Gi Hentai Oh Porn Yu

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2004-08-01T12:20:00.000-07:00

Gi Hentai Oh Porn Yu Sex story

2004-07-31T05:00:00.000-07:00

[FDWritings] Chanting
=====================

It all started innocently enough. First there was this thread on
FDWritings.
-----------------------------------------------------------
artyeleven
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 9:43am
Subject: Chanting

It has come to my attention that there has been some unlicensed
chanting occurring in this here group.

This has got to stop.

The spread of unlicensed chanting could lead to the spontaneous
creation of CMDs (Chants of Mass Destruction) and then where would we
be? [On a side note: could anyone tell me why everyone wants to
destroy Massachusetts? (Mass. Destruction) LOL! Oh all right I
promise not to do it again!]

So from now on only licensed chanting allowed ... OK?

Licensed chant: 145, 145, 145, 145, 145 ...

Arty
(What do you sing as you hurtle over Niagara Falls in a refrigerator?
"Like a Fridge over troubled waters...")
-----------------------------------------------------------

rodramsey
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 2:50pm
Subject: Re: Chanting

--- In FDWritingsyahoogroups, artyeleven wrote:
> It has come to my attention that there has been some unlicensed
> chanting occurring in this here group.
>
> This has got to stop.
>
> The spread of unlicensed chanting could lead to the spontaneous
> creation of CMDs (Chants of Mass Destruction) and then where would
> we be? [On a side note: could anyone tell me why everyone wants to
> destroy Massachusetts? (Mass. Destruction) LOL! Oh all right I
> promise not to do it again!]
>
> So from now on only licensed chanting allowed ... OK?
>
> Licensed chant: 145, 145, 145, 145, 145 ...
>
> Arty

Does that mean chanting "Fridayella, Fridayella, Fridayella" is
prohibited and will result in my being punished? Preferably by
Friday.

Rod
-----------------------------------------------------------

artyeleven
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 3:40pm
Subject: Re: Chanting

--- Rod Ramsey wrote:
> Does that mean chanting "Fridayella, Fridayella, Fridayella" is
> prohibited and will result in my being punished? Preferably by
> Friday.
No.

Fridayella
by Arty

[Snipped Fridayella]

Arty
(Sorry folks he made me do it!)
-----------------------------------------------------------

A.G. Becker
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 6:13pm
Subject: Re: Re: Chanting

--- artyeleven wrote:
> Fridayella
> by Arty

Great story Arty. Only one Problem, our heroine doesn't get laid. At
least make the magical dildo get her off every few minutes.

After all that the poor girl needs RELIEF!!

Heathen- who is still chuckling about the story.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The trouble starts!
-----------------------------------------------------------
girlfriday70
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 6:28pm
Subject: Re: Chanting

--- A.G. Becker wrote:
> --- artyeleven wrote:
> > Fridayella
> > by Arty
>
> Great story Arty. Only one Problem, our heroine doesn't get
> laid. At least make the magical dildo get her off every few
> minutes.
>
> After all that the poor girl needs RELIEF!!
>
> Heathen- who is still chuckling about the story.

Uh yeah - what he said ...

If you're going to continue to abuse me at least have the decency to
make it worth my while!!

Friday
Needs a volunteer to provide "Relief"
-----------------------------------------------------------
When one looks back, even the most innocent things suddenly take on a
new significance.
-----------------------------------------------------------
A.G. Becker
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 6:54pm
Subject: Re: Re: Chanting

--- girlfriday70 wrote:
>
> Uh yeah - what he said ...
>
> If you're going to continue to abuse me at least have the decency to
> make it worth my while!!
>
> Friday
> Needs a volunteer to provide "Relief"

<Jumps around with hands raised Doing his best Horshack imitation> OOO!!
OOOO!! ME!! ME!!
-----------------------------------------------------------
When one's muse makes a request like that, what can one do but respond. It's
a difficult task but someone has to do it!
-----------------------------------------------------------
artyeleven
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 7:38pm
Subject: Re: Chanting

--- Friday WMM(CE) wrote:
> Needs a volunteer to provide "Relief"
Relief
by Arty

It was relentless.

Friday once more attempted to extricate herself, but it was
futile.

And now the twin dildos were causing her to crest once
again. The electrodes attached to her clitoris and nipples
started to stimulate her once more and Friday screamed her
release as her overloaded senses experienced her 100th
orgasm. The countrer in front of her clicked from 901 to
900, it had started at 999. The idea that she had another
901 to go was a thought too horrible to concentrate on at
the moment, even without the constant erotic stimulation of
the machine.

The machine slowed once more and a gentle mist of water
cooled her flushed and heated body. Friday reached for the
water, she grimaced as she began to simulate giving a
blowjob to the artificial penis. After ten seconds the
machine rewarded her with a stream of liquid. It was
obviously isotonic as it felt more refreshing than normal,
though it was probably just thirst that made it feel that
way. She kept swallowing and sucking after the stream
stopped as she was also hungry after a few more seconds
Friday felt the spurts of the liquid food that was obviously
intended to mimic ejaculation, though no merely human male
could continue this long.

Eventually Friday had eaten enough and the machine started
to take her on the short trip to her next orgasm.

"Next time," she mused to herself as she felt her thoughts
become disconnected once more by the imminent arrival of the
next rollercoaster crest. "I'll keep my mouth shut!"

-Fin-

Arty
(I'm in trouble now!)
-----------------------------------------------------------
On reflection, perhaps 1000 was too many?
-----------------------------------------------------------
daiwakizashi
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 8:45pm
Subject: Re: Re: Chanting

--- artyeleven wrote:
> --- Friday WMM(CE) wrote:
> > Needs a volunteer to provide "Relief"
> Relief
> by Arty

snipped a good deal of a "good-deal!" >,-p

> Eventually Friday had eaten enough and the machine
> started to take her on the short trip to her next orgasm.
>
> "Next time," she mused to herself as she felt her thoughts
> become disconnected once more by the imminent arrival of
> the next rollercoaster crest. "I'll keep my mouth shut!"
>
> -Fin-
>
> Arty
> (I'm in trouble now!)

I cannot say for sure if you are in trouble or not, but Friday seems to be... if
you can call extasy or throes of orgasm trouble! ;-)

Dai
-----------------------------------------------------------
Yes, I think 1000 was probably overkill. Oh well, perhaps the post-orgasmic haze
will save me?
-----------------------------------------------------------
girlfriday70
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 9:23pm
Subject: Re: Chanting

--- daiwakizashi wrote:
> --- artyeleven wrote:
> > Arty
> > (I'm in trouble now!)
>
> I cannot say for sure if you are in trouble or not, but Friday
> seems to be... if you can call extasy or throes of orgasm
> trouble! ;-)
>
> Dai

Well, I can say he is definitely in trouble.

I will have my revenge.

Friday
-----------------------------------------------------------
Nope. Maybe I can head trouble off at the pass?
-----------------------------------------------------------
artyeleven
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 9:44pm
Subject: Re: Chanting

--- Friday WMM(CE) wrote:
> Well, I can say he is definitely in trouble.
>
> I will have my revenge.

Looks innocent What have I done?

Arty
(Of course if it involves a naked muse some silk scarves and honey
then I'm your man! 8-) )
-----------------------------------------------------------
Dai is my friend. In this and other fora.
-----------------------------------------------------------
daiwakizashi
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 11:13pm
Subject: Re: Re: Chanting

--- girlfriday70 wrote:
> --- daiwakizashi wrote:
> > --- artyeleven wrote:
> > > Arty
> > > (I'm in trouble now!)
> >
> > I cannot say for sure if you are in trouble or not, but Friday
> > seems to be... if you can call extasy or throes of orgasm
> > trouble! ;-)
> >
> > Dai
>
> Well, I can say he is definitely in trouble.
>
> I will have my revenge.
>
> Friday

Himmm... after getting what you asked for... aren't you being a bit
ungrateful... he's gone to all that trouble to satisfy your appet-... I mean
wishes... and now, he finds himself in trouble... ;-p

I guess this is a case of a woman changing her mind, perhaps... ;-p

Dai
(trouble, I ain't looking for one, but sometimes it finds me)
Arty, you might want to adopt this one
-----------------------------------------------------------
Thanks Dai, but I don't think that's helping any.
-----------------------------------------------------------
girlfriday70
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 4:51am
Subject: Re: Chanting

--- artyeleven wrote:
>
> Looks innocent What have I done?
>
> Arty
> (Of course if it involves a naked muse some silk scarves and honey
> then I'm your man! 8-) )

Well now that you mention it ... 2 out of 3 isn't bad.

Arty's punishment can be found here:

groups./group/FKWLounge/message/480

Since the archives are public, all the messages can be read without
having to join the group.

Hope you enjoy it,
Friday
-----------------------------------------------------------
Nope, definitely didn't help. Though I must say Friday is very cute
when she is cross!

[FKWLounge] Fridayella
======================

Whilst chatting to Friday I made a throaway comment about a variation
on Cinderella's slipper. The thought of a whole countryful of eligible
women trying to see if a dildo fitted tickled me, so I wrote a story.
-----------------------------------------------------------
artyeleven
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 3:38pm
Subject: Fridayella

--- Last week sometime Friday WMM(CE) wrote:
> Get your butt out of the cellar and participate, you randy
> Englishman!
>
> Friday
> not a muse for nothin'
> now WRITE!

Now if one knows what is good for one, one does as one is told so:

Fridayella
by Arty

[Snipped Fridayella]

-Fin-

Arty
(Sometimes I really do wonder where it all comes from.)
-----------------------------------------------------------
In the interests of fairplay, I've kept all the posts in this thread.
(That's my story and I'm sticking to it!)
-----------------------------------------------------------
elhopes
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 11:21pm
Subject: Re: Fridayella

--- artyeleven wrote:
>
> Fridayella
> by Arty
>
> Once upon a time there lived a handsome widower and his daughter.

Arty, in the couple of weeks I've been hanging around here, I've come
to realize that you're remarkably talented, and really quite twisted
(in a good way, of course). How you come up with this stuff I have no
idea, but it's rather marvellous, you know?

Cheers,
Ed
-----------------------------------------------------------

zap292
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 3:20am
Subject: Re: Fridayella

--- artyeleven wrote:
> --- Last week sometime Friday WMM(CE) wrote:
> > Get your butt out of the cellar and participate, you randy
> > Englishman!
> >
> > Friday
> > not a muse for nothin'
> > now WRITE!
>
> Now if one knows what is good for one, one does as one is told so:
>
> Fridayella
> by Arty

Very nicely done Sir Arty of the Cellar ! Very nicely done indeed.
Thanks for sharing this new twist on an old tail !

:-)

Zap
-----------------------------------------------------------

artyeleven
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 11:12am
Subject: Re: Fridayella

--- Ed (the nice but barmy bloke) wrote:
> Arty, in the couple of weeks I've been hanging around here, I've
> come to realize that you're remarkably talented, and really quite
> twisted > (in a good way, of course). How you come up with this
> stuff I have no idea, but it's rather marvellous, you know?

Thank you for your kind words.

Of course other may doubt your sanity, but I'll be your friend
anyway. 8-)

Thanks again

Arty
(If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. What happens if life gives
you Alligators? Why make Gatorade of course.)
-----------------------------------------------------------

girlfriday70
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 1:25pm
Subject: Re: Fridayella

> --- Sir Arty of the Cellar wrote:
> Arty
> (If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. What happens if life
> gives you Alligators? Why make Gatorade of course.)

ROFL - I think you've been hanging around with Cat too long. I had
to double check that this wasn't one of hers when I read it.

Friday
-----------------------------------------------------------

[FKWLounge] Relief
==================

What's this? I didn't post this here - perhaps I will get away with
it after all?
-----------------------------------------------------------
girlfriday70
Date: Mon Dec 1, 2003 7:45pm
Subject: Relief

--- Friday WMM(CE) wrote:
> Needs a volunteer to provide "Relief"

Relief
by Arty

It was relentless.

Friday once more attempted to extricate herself, but it was futile.

And now the twin dildos were causing her to crest once again. The
electrodes attached to her clitoris and nipples started to stimulate
her once more and Friday screamed her release as her overloaded
senses experienced her 100th orgasm. The countrer in front of her
clicked from 901 to 900, it had started at 999. The idea that she
had another 901 to go was a thought too horrible to concentrate on
at the moment, even without the constant erotic stimulation of the
machine.

The machine slowed once more and a gentle mist of water cooled her
flushed and heated body. Friday reached for the water, she grimaced
as she began to simulate giving a blowjob to the artificial penis.
After ten seconds the machine rewarded her with a stream of liquid.
It was obviously isotonic as it felt more refreshing than normal,
though it was probably just thirst that made it feel that way. She
kept swallowing and sucking after the stream stopped as she was also
hungry after a few more seconds Friday felt the spurts of the liquid
food that was obviously intended to mimic ejaculation, though no
merely human male could continue this long.

Eventually Friday had eaten enough and the machine started to take
her on the short trip to her next orgasm.

"Next time," she mused to herself as she felt her thoughts become
disconnected once more by the imminent arrival of the next
rollercoaster crest. "I'll keep my mouth shut!"

-Fin-

Arty
(I'm in trouble now!)
-----------------------------------------------------------
Oh Oh! She was just lulling me in to a sense of false security.
-----------------------------------------------------------
girlfriday70
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 4:40am
Subject: Re: Relief

> --- Sir Arty of the Cellar wrote:
> Relief
> by Arty
>
> Arty
> (I'm in trouble now!)

Yes, you are. Your punishment follows:

Relief, Part 2 - Friday's Revenge.
by Girl Friday
2003, all rights reserved

001

"Oh OH OH YESSSSSSS!!!"

000

Friday heaved a sigh of relief as the counter clicked over to zero and her body
was released from the orgasm machine. Exhausted and filthy beyond measure, she
stumbled home and crawled into the shower. She cleaned up as best she could
before falling into bed and sleeping away the better part of two days.

She awoke ravenous and more than a little sore. Friday made her way to the
kitchen where she brewed a pot of coffee and sat gingerly in a chair. [Look, if
you had just been forced to orgasm 1000 times, you be sitting pretty damn
gingerly too!] As she tried, unsuccessfully, to find a comfortable position, she
thought 'something has got to be done about Arty'. With an evil grin, she began
to make a list ...

BANG - BANG - BANG

The loud pounding on his cellar door caused Arty to jump straight out of his
chair. He'd been working hard on his next installment of "The Friday
Chronicles," lost in dreams of what new torments he could subject his
Fairytaleland muse to next. Making sure his work was saved, Arty went to open
the door. To his surprise and trepidation, there stood Friday, his
aforementioned muse, looking quite a bit different from her usual self.

Oh, the wings were there, and the slightly bent halo too, but then it got weird.
Instead of chocolate, Friday was wearing a black leather bustier, laced with red
ribbons up the front, an impossibly short black leather shirt, and last but not
least, knee-high black leather boots. She carried a small, black briefcase and a
riding crop.

"Friday! What are you doing here?"

"You are working on a new installment of 'The Friday Chronicles', correct?"

"Err, yes."

"Last I checked, I was still your muse ... unless there's some memo I didn't
get."

"Uh, no, you're still my muse."

"Well then, I'm here to help. Are you going to let me in or make me stand out
here all night?"

At the sight of his muse tapping her riding crop impatiently, Arty thought
perhaps he ought to do as she suggested and let her in.

[Uh, do I really have to?]

[Look buster, I'm writing this, not you, so shut up and stand aside.]

Friday strode into the room and looked at the story in progress on Arty's
computer.

"1001 Friday Knights? You can not be serious!"

[You've been going it alone again, haven't you? How many times have I told you
to run your ideas by me first?]

Arty cleared his throat nervously as Friday looked over the story. The further
she read, the harder her expression became. When she came to end of the story,
Friday snorted in disgust and pinned Arty with a steely glare.

"Once again, you've written me into all sorts of embarrassing situations and
then don't have the decency to allow me a nice, satisfying romp with a handsome
fellow."

"I gave you 'Relief'," he protested.

"A machine? 1000 orgasms? Simulating a blow job to get food and water? That is
not what I call a satisfying experience. More like degrading and abusive.
Where's the love? Where's the tenderness? God damn it, is it too much to ask for
a little human contact and some decent sex?"

As Friday continued to rant and rave, she advanced on Arty, her eyes flashing
dangerously. Arty backed away from Friday until he found himself up against the
wall. Friday opened her briefcase and pulled out two silk scarves. She advanced
on Arty once more as he cowered against the wall.

"Spread 'em."

Her tone was commanding and brooked no argument. Arty complied instantly. Friday
looped the silk about his wrists and tied them to the iron rings embedded in the
cellar wall.

[I object! There are no iron rings embedded in my cellar walls!]

[Wanna bet? Are you forgetting who signs all your purchase orders for this
crap?]

Friday pulled a large knife from the briefcase and showed it to the bound
author.

[HOLD IT! What are you doing?]

[If you don't stop interrupting, I'm going to take steps ...]

"Uh, uh, uh. Friday? Beloved muse? What are you doing with that knife?"

[I warned you.]

Friday threw the knife down in disgust and pulled a large ball gag from her bag.
She stuffed it into Arty's mouth and fastened it tightly behind his head. Now
that he was unable to protest, Friday retrieved her knife and quickly cut the
clothes from his body.

[Let's see how you enjoy being naked and on display.]

[Mmmpfhh]

Friday perused his naked form and smiled rather lasciviously while inspecting
certain portions of his anatomy. Arty's penis twitched and throbbed under
Friday's gaze. She giggled at him and fastened a third silk scarf around his
eyes. Arty struggled briefly before submitting to the blindfold. Friday made
sure he couldn't see anything then picked up her riding crop.

"Now Arty, you have been a very bad boy."

THWACK! Arty started at the sound of the crop hitting the wall, just barely
grazing his hip.

"You've stripped me." THWACK!

"You've abused me." THWACK!

"And you've viciously withheld any enjoyment for me." THWACK!

Poor Arty was a bundle of limp, nervous tension as the riding crop continued to
smack the wall around him. Friday exchanged the crop for a long, elegant
feather. Stepping close to Arty so that her breasts, contained only by the
leather bustier, brushed against his chest, Friday whispered in his ear, "I
think it's time we revised our Author-Muse contract so that these types of
misunderstandings don't occur in the future."

Arty whimpered behind the gag and tried to press himself against his seductive
muse. Stepping back and laughing softly, Friday began to tease Arty with the
feather. Running it over his neck and then drifting down to circle his nipples,
Friday teased him mercilessly. Then the feather moved lower, tickling his ribs
and his abdomen. Arty's cock twitched and started to grow.

"Do you enjoy this, Arty? Does it turn you on?"

Arty whimpered again and nodded his head as Friday played the feather over the
insides of his thighs.

"If I make you feel good, will you promise to behave?"

Arty nodded his head violently, banging it into the wall behind him. The feather
teased his cock, sliding over his erect shaft, circling his glans before
drifting down to tickle his balls. Arty groaned and humped himself against the
feather.

"Oh Arty ... I've got one more surprise for you, but I guarantee you're going to
want to see this."

Friday reached up and removed his blindfold. Arty's eyes were filled with need
and lust. He watched avidly as Friday reached into her briefcase and pulled out
a small bottle of honey. Slowly, Friday dribbled the honey over the upper slope
of her breasts, making sure to get some in the valley between. His eyes widened
as she scooped up a small amount of honey on one finger and brought it to her
mouth. Sliding her finger into her mouth, Friday licked it clean as Arty groaned
in longing.

"Do you like honey, Arty? Would you like a taste?"

More groans and much nodding ensued.

[Can't you do anything but groan?]

[Mmmpfph]

"Of course with that gag in, you can't taste can you?"

Arty shook his head.

"Too bad too because it tastes sooo sweet." Friday brought another honey covered
finger to her mouth and sucked it clean.

"Mmm. Tell you what, Arty ... how about we put the honey on you?"

Arty's eyes bugged out of his head as Friday dripped honey all over his erect
cock.

"Now how on Earth will we get that honey off?"

Friday trailed one finger through the honey on his shaft, drawing small spirals
and lines as she teased Arty.

"Do you think it should be licked off? Would you like that, Arty?"

The poor man nearly collapsed at her words. Had he not been tied to the wall, he
would in fact be a largish puddle of English goo on the floor.

"Just sign this new Author-Muse contract and I'll make sure that honey gets all
licked off."

Friday held up a clipboard and slipped a pen into Arty's bound hand. Hastily he
scribbled his signature, eager for the licking to begin. She checked the
contract to make sure that his signature had gone through all three copies.

[One for me, one for you, one to be filed at the Central Office; can't have you
saying later that you never saw any contract.]

Friday smiled in satisfaction and pulled the middle copy out. Laying it on the
desk, she began to gather her things. Using a warm, wet towel to clean the
sticky honey from her chest, Friday dropped it in the washing machine before
picking up her briefcase and turning to leave.

[Hey, I'm nothing if not tidy. What? The licking? Oh yes, I almost forgot ...]

Arty struggled against his bonds, whimpering and moaning in a pathetic manner.
Friday glanced at him without sympathy.

"This was supposed to be a punishment and I think you've enjoyed it entirely too
much. Now I do believe I promised that honey would be licked off, but I just
don't have the time now. I have a very full schedule and I'm already late for a
spanking session with another author, so I've arranged for a replacement to
finish up here with you."

Friday took a small counter from her bag, set it to count down from 1000, and
placed it on the desk.

"Since you were so generous earlier, I thought I would return the favor. You owe
me 1000 orgasms, Arty. When that counter hits zero, you will be released."

A knock sounded at the door.

"Ah, there's my replacement now. Enjoy your relief, Arty. I know I did. Now, let
the licking begin ... "

Friday opened the door to a huge, grinning, purple dinosaur. Arty's muffled
screams followed her all the way to her car.

-- Fin --

Mess with the Muse at your own risk.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I'll never look at the purple one in the same way again!
-----------------------------------------------------------
Tony J
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 4:45am
Subject: Re: Re: Relief

--- girlfriday70 wrote:
> --- Sir Arty of the Cellar wrote:
>
> > Relief
> > by Arty
> >
> > Arty
> > (I'm in trouble now!)
>
> Yes, you are. Your punishment follows:
>
> Relief, Part 2 - Friday's Revenge.
> by Girl Friday
> 2003, all rights reserved

Oh dear. You are in trouble Arty. Barney takes his cocksucking seriously!!!

TonyJ
-----------------------------------------------------------
Friends are supposed to sympathise not to to gloat!
-----------------------------------------------------------
zap292
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 5:00am
Subject: Re: Re: Relief

--- girlfriday70 wrote:
> --- Sir Arty of the Cellar wrote:
>
> > Relief
> > by Arty
> >
> > Arty
> > (I'm in trouble now!)
>
> Yes, you are. Your punishment follows:
>
> Relief, Part 2 - Friday's Revenge.
> by Girl Friday
> 2003, all rights reserved
>
>
>
> 001
>
> "Oh OH OH YESSSSSSS!!!"

ROFLMAO ! !

A purple dragon that loves honey, that was great Friday!

:-)

Zap
(I guess that Arty was 'just dessert' ?)
-----------------------------------------------------------
Sympathy involves kind words and commiseration; it doesn't involves
rolling around on the floor laughing!
-----------------------------------------------------------
zap292
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 5:01am
Subject: Re: Re: Relief

--- Tony J wrote:
> --- girlfriday70 wrote:
> > --- Sir Arty of the Cellar wrote:
> >
> > > Relief
> > > by Arty
> > >
> > > Arty
> > > (I'm in trouble now!)
> >
> > Yes, you are. Your punishment follows:
> >
> > Relief, Part 2 - Friday's Revenge.
> > by Girl Friday
> > 2003, all rights reserved
>
> Oh dear. You are in trouble Arty. Barney takes his cocksucking seriously!!!
>
> TonyJ

Was it Barny, or his twin sister 'Barnadette' ??

Zap
-----------------------------------------------------------
More gloating ... sigh.
-----------------------------------------------------------
artyeleven
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 7:09am
Subject: Re: Relief

--- Friday WMM(CE) wrote:
> Mess with the Muse at your own risk.
ROFLMAO!

Oh thank you, thank you ...

If I didn't already love you, I'd be falling big time!!

It's a good job my kids are too old for a certain purple toy or I'd probably
have some explaining to do around Christmas. LOL!

Arty
(Who is wondering what the contract was that he signed.)
-----------------------------------------------------------
Now I'm doing it! Oh all right I enjoyed it really! Though I think
it's time to apologise to Friday again. (I seem to be doing this a lot
recently.)
-----------------------------------------------------------
artyeleven
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 9:27am
Subject: Relief II

Relief II
by Arty

He'd spent all day preparing for this. Not to mention the weeks of
experimentation until he had the dishes cooked to perfection.

The knocking startled him; he'd lost track of the time. Checking that all was
perfect he hurried to open the door.

She took his breath away; she always did - once more he thanked whatever Gods
were listening when she had fallen into his life.

"Come in."

Friday stepped across the threshold and nodded approvingly at the decor. The
cellar had been transformed; dank and gloomy had been replaced by light and
airy. Garlands of woodland flowers had been wrapped around iron rings, which
were the only discordant note, embedded in the wall. The centrepiece was a table
set for two. A silver candlestick and the finest crystal glasses glittered in
the pool of light in which the table was bathed.

"I hope you don't mind Greek food? I was looking for a dessert that you would
like and it was Greek so I ran with it ..."

He realised he was babbling and shut up.

Friday smiled, "Greek is fine."

He took her wrap and hung it in a concealed closet and then seated her at the
table. He poured two glasses of champagne, a Dom Perignon '55 and proposed a
toast.

"To fulfillment."

After they had drunk the champagne he brought out the frist course, a Mezza [I
apologise for the misspellings everyone]. This was followed by a Moussaka and
finally a Baclava, sweet and sticky with honey. Throughout the meal the resiny
Retsina that they drank was a perfect counterpoint.

The final coffee and the 40 year-old armagnac were drunk slowly to allow the
meal to digest. During the meal he had delighted in making her smile and laugh;
now he stood behind her and massaged her head and shoulders Friday groaned in
appreciation.

Taking her hand he led her towards a massage table and carefully undressed her.
A kiss on each exposed piece of skin meant that this process took slightly
longer than necessary, but eventually she was lying prone on the table. The
massage started with long sweeping strokes over her back and shoulders, Friday
relaxed as he concentrated all of his love and devotion into his searching
fingertips.

A gentle pressure on her side, was the indication to roll over. Friday glanced
at the clock, wow where had the time gone? It hadn't seemed like 45 minutes. And
then he started again with gentle sweeps of his hands. This time, however the
masage was anything but relaxing as he gently brought her to several most
satisfying orgasms.

Placing his arms beneath her legs and back he scooped her from the table and
carried her towards a gently steaming bath. With the utmost care he slid her,
feet first, into the bathwater. Friday sighed in satisfaction as a wave of
warmth spread up her body.

Using a natural sponge he proceeded to wash the massage oil from her. He may
perhaps be forgiven for spending a little too much time on certain areas, but
Friday was certain that no trace of oil remained anywhere. Finally he washed and
conditioned her hair taking the opportunity to give her another head massage.

Helping her to rise from the bath he wrapped her in the largest, fluffiest and
whitest bath towels that human ingenuity could create and spent the next ten
minutes ensuring that she was dry.

Now he raised his eyebrows in silent question as he led her towards the bed.
Friday nodded in answer and he helped her to lie back. Once more he unwrapped
his muse and this time his worship of her was almost entirely oral. Nipples were
kissed, licked and nibbled; ears and neck, underarms and navel. No part of her
was left untouched. Sometimes she gasped, sometimes she giggled but always her
arousal grew, finally he concentrated on her womanhood. Her first orgasm was
followed by a second and a third as he gently encouraged her release. Finally he
slowed down and looked up to see her smile.

Now it was her turn.

"You are wearing entirely too many clothes. Get them off. Now!"

Knowing better than to disobey when she spoke in that tone of voice, he hurried
to comply. When he was naked, he protested a little.

"But I had the handsome Prince Charming all lined up for you."

"You're handsome enough."

He glanced down at his rampant erection.

"But 'average' is being generous, Prince Charming is a legend."

"It looks big enough to me. Now if you don't do as you're told and make love to
me I'll never visit you again!"

He was hers to command after all, so he knelt between her widespread knees and
entered her in a single smooth thrust.

An explosion of pleasure almost blew him away, he struggled successfully to stop
himself from coming. He knew it would feel good but this was beyond his wildest
dreams! It was like every pleasurable experience he had ever had all rolled into
one and concentrated in his loins. He focused on his muse and started to thrust.

He was rewarded with delightful sounds of arousal. He grunted out his apology

"I'm sorry, just because I tease you doesn't mean I don't love you, you know?"

"I know."

"Uhh Friday, I'm sorry but I can't hold back any longer!"

The power of his orgasm caught him by surprise, it felt like he was being turned
inside out. Friday smiled, the fact that she had rendered him helpless within
her was enough to tip her over the edge too. He had just enough strength left to
roll her over so she was on top of him.

"Am I forgiven? (Again!)"

She giggled and waved her arm expansively, "I'll let you know, after we've done
this a few more times."

He groaned, "Yes Mistress!"

-Fin-

Arty
(Whose trepidation knows no bounds at this point.)
-----------------------------------------------------------
Fingers crossed.
-----------------------------------------------------------
girlfriday70
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 1:23pm
Subject: Re: Relief II

--- artyeleven wrote:
> Relief II
> by Arty

<snip one of your best stories yet!>

> Arty
> (Whose trepidation knows no bounds at this point.)

That was most wonderful and exactly the sort of thing I was looking
for. I don't mind all the fun and games, but every woman wants to be
worshipped once in a while.

Thank you, dear one.

Friday
still glowing
and trying to return all that black leather crap
-----------------------------------------------------------
Yes! She loves me! Making up is so much fun don't you
think?

[FKWLounge] Fridayella 2
========================

Here comes Heathen to 'stir the pot'.
-----------------------------------------------------------
A.G. Becker
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 7:49am
Subject: Fridayella2

With apologies to Arty, I dreamed up this little tome. I couldn't let it alone:

Fridayella II: the Revenge

Fridayella fell back onto the bed exhausted. It had been over a week since she
had inserted the magic dildo and been found by the prince. During that time, she
had not left the bed. The prince was a wild man in bed, and when he had to
attend to affairs of state, his most trusted knight would fill in. And he
certainly filled her as well.

She finally stood on her trembling legs and headed to the bathtub that had been
placed in the corner of the room. Easing her luscious, but overworked body into
the hot water, Fridayella sighed with relief. She closed her eyes and relaxed.

A serving wench awakened her a short time later. �Come my lady.� She said.

Fridayella groaned. �I don�t think I have another cum left in me.�

�So you have met the team of the Prince and Sir Lance-is-long. They are a randy
pair. Me and the other girls in the castle have enjoyed the rest this last week�
Then the wench gazed in open admiration at Fridayella�s generous curves.
�Perhaps m�lady could stand just one more orgasm, just to relax her.�

Any thoughts that Fridayella would have formed vanished as the wench started
licking around her still swollen labia. This girl�s expert ministrations brought
Fridayella to one last crashing orgasm.

The next morning Fridayella dressed and went in search of her husband-to-be. Now
that the honeymoon was over, there was still the wedding to plan. She moved
gingerly since her nether region was still quite tender. �I never got that
girl�s name,� she thought. �I will need a lady-in-waiting, and while we are
waiting��

Fridayella soon found her way to the kitchen and put away a large amount of
breakfast. �A week of fucking really builds an appetite.� She thought as she
finished her second ham and mushroom omelet. � The cook is very good, but why is
he yelling �BAM� every time he adds anything?�

She soon found herself in the office of the prince. He was sitting behind a
large desk with his feet propped up on the edge. He gave her a smile that did
little to hide his lust. Fridayella knew she didn�t have very long before she
would be bent over that desk her bare buttocks glistening in the sun as the
Prince pounded her from behind.

He was thinking the same thing, but had to put those thoughts aside until
business was finished. And today�s business was to deal with Fridayella�s
stepmother and sisters.

He was trying to decide what matter of death to subject them to and asked her
for her opinion. To his surprise, her devious nature surfaced and they put
together a plan. Then as she expected (and hoped), her buttocks were soon
bouncing as he pounded into her again and again.

It wasn�t long before the two sisters were seized and taken to Sir Rod of the
Reddened Butt cheeks. Stripped naked they were taken to his punishment room. Sir
Rod walked in and surveyed the two taking in their ample buttocks. Taking the
paddle that was constantly in his gloved hand, he brought it down firmly upon
their backsides. Their yelps foreshadowed what was in store for them. �You were
very bad little girls for your treatment of Fridayella. Now you must be
punished.� He pulled the first over his legs. As the first slap landed, he
thought to himself, �I love this job.� Their cries were soon mingled with the
sounds of the paddle on their tender flesh.

The stepmother found herself standing in a walled village. The men who had
brought her here refused to go through the gate, instead shoving her through and
slamming it shut. As she moved toward the center of town, she noticed that the
men walking around did not even acknowledge her presence. That was something
that never happened. She knew she was good looking and had a sexiness that
normally drove men wild. Then she looked closer. These men were holding hands
and kissing. This couldn�t be happening! She was locked in a gay colony. For a
woman who craved cock as she did, this was the ultimate . Then she saw a
chubby short guy coming out of one of the hut. He had bushy hair and was wearing
a muscle shirt and matching silk shorts. She cringed at his high-pitched whiny
voice as he gathered everyone together. �Come on boys, we have to do our
exercises then pick our deal-a-meal cards.� Her last thought as she passed out
was �I am banished to spend my life with Richard of Simmons�

Fridayella went on to have many more adventures including saving the kingdom�s
maidens from an invasion of pussy-eaters by causing them all to die from
exhaustion. But it is not the job of this scribe to detail those here.

~~~FINIS ~~~

Enjoy,

Heathen-
-----------------------------------------------------------
Now there's a man who really knows the way to a girl's ... errr ...
heart.
-----------------------------------------------------------
girlfriday70
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 1:34pm
Subject: Re: Fridayella2

--- Sir Heathen wrote:
> With apologies to Arty, I dreamed up this little tome. I couldn't
> let it alone:
>
> Fridayella II: the Revenge

Finally! Arty's Relief II was wonderful but this is the icing on the
cake.

Better hope Rod isn't pissed for being stuck with the ugly
stepsisters though.

Friday
-----------------------------------------------------------
I'll never understand women, or muses. Heathen gets praised and I get
tied to a wall and sucked off by a purple dinosaur! There ain't no justice
I tell ya.

[FKWLounge] Relief II and Fridayella 2
========================================

Business as usual, i.e. tease the muse.
-----------------------------------------------------------
artyeleven
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 2:44pm
Subject: Re: Relief II

--- Friday MM(BL) wrote:
> <snip one of your best stories yet!>
You mean it didn't happen? 8-) Blast and it seemed so real too. 8-)

> That was most wonderful and exactly the sort of thing I was looking
> for. I don't mind all the fun and games, but every woman wants to
> be worshipped once in a while.
Hurriedly kicks the chains and things under the bed, whistles and
tries to look innocent

Breaks into song:
"I'd do anything,
For you dear anything,
For you mean everything to me..."
[Oh all right, I'll stop laying on so thick ...]

> Thank you, dear one.
The pleasure was all mine.

> Friday
> still glowing
> and trying to return all that black leather crap
It's fun once in a while ... leers. Hence the alternate form of
your musehood: Mistress Muse (Black Leather)

Arty
(Who is sailing close to the wind yet again. Will I never learn?)
-----------------------------------------------------------
More teasing. Will I never learn?
-----------------------------------------------------------
artyeleven
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 2:49pm
Subject: Re: Fridayella2

--- Friday SMM(CC) wrote:
> Finally! Arty's Relief II was wonderful but this is the icing on
> the cake.

Oi! At least I fed you, doesn't that count for anything nowadays?

LOL!

> Better hope Rod isn't pissed for being stuck with the ugly
> stepsisters though.
Doesn't matter if he is, he can just take it out on their bottoms! 8-)

Arty
(Sex Maniac Muse (Crossed Condoms) - I really, really deserve
everything I get don't I? ROFL)
-----------------------------------------------------------
I'm glad someone is having fun ...
-----------------------------------------------------------
rodramsey
Date: Tue Dec 2, 2003 3:26pm
Subject: Re: Fridayella2

--- girlfriday70 wrote:
> --- Sir Heathen wrote:
>
> > With apologies to Arty, I dreamed up this little tome. I
> > couldn't let it alone:
> >
> > Fridayella II: the Revenge
>
> Finally! Arty's Relief II was wonderful but this is the icing on
> the cake.
>
> Better hope Rod isn't pissed for being stuck with the ugly
> stepsisters though.
>
> Friday

While the 'Ugly Stepsisters' pale when compared to the delectible
Fridayella, they are quite attractive (when ever Friday isnt
around).

As for the daunting task of punishing the backsides of these two
very naughty wenches well...can you say 'Job Lottery'? A tough job,
but someone has to do it.

Rod
Oh Kira, where did you put my tawse?
-----------------------------------------------------------
How does it all end? Why not join us and see?
groups./group/FKWLounge/join

href=groups./group/FDWritings/join

To be continued ...
-----------------------------------------------------------
Acknowledgements
================

This page would not have been possible without the great wit and insight
of the following illustrious persons:
Rod Ramsey
Heathen (A. G. Becker)
Dai Wakizashi
Ed (elhopes)
Zap
Tony J
and last but definitely not least:
Girl Friday in her various guises:
WMM(CE) - WebMistress Muse(Chocolate Edition)
MM(BL) - Mistress Muse(Black Leather)
SMM(CC) - Sex Maniac Muse(Crossed Condoms)

Thanks guys, you're great!
-----------------------------------------------------------

Gi Hentai Oh Porn Yu sex links:

Gi Hentai Oh Porn Yu Sex picture

2004-07-29T12:24:00.000-07:00

Gi Hentai Oh Porn Yu sex links:

Gi Hentai Oh Porn Yu Sex story

2004-07-26T21:30:00.000-07:00

Drawing It In

by Ovid

Susan and Robert Hunter lived in England, in a small town outside
London.

We had met them on a tour in Russia and discovered that we all got on
well with

each other. We shopped and went to dinner together with them when we
had free

time from the tour and really enjoyed each other's company. After the
tour we

corresponded with them. When we wrote that we were coming to England
for a few

weeks' vacation, they were delighted and insisted that we spend at
couple of days

with them at their house.

So one morning, after we had been in London for a week, Susan and Robert

picked my wife and me up at our hotel. Susan, her dark hair up in a bun
and her

face hidden in sun glasses on one of the few English days for which it
was

appropriate, was wearing jeans and a loose denim shirt. Robert had on a
red, plaid

flannel shirt and dark gray pants. He had light brown hair that must
have once been

blond, and it looked like he had driven with his window down, for his
hair was

blown every which way. They suggested we do some sightseeing on the
outskirts of

London, have lunch at a pub they liked, and then continue sightseeing on
our way to

their home, which we'd reach in time for tea. Then, they had tickets
for the local

theater production, after which we could have a late dinner. It all
sounded great,

especially as it was one of those warm, sunny days that make you want to
reread all

that poetry about the English country side. We were looking forward to
a wonderful

day with old friends.

The sightseeing was fun and the lunch was hearty, fortified by a bit too

much real ale, so we were in great shape. Throughout the day, Susan
continued her

sketching. As in Russia, she always had a little sketch pad with her -
it was her way

of taking pictures. They lived in a lovely little cottage in an area
that was as close

to country as you can get that close to London. The cottage was made of
yellow

Cotswald stone. In front of the house was a small garden, a bit of lawn
surrounded

by roses in full bloom. My wife, the gardener in our family, remarked
to Susan on

how beautiful it looked.

"Oh, Robert's the gardener," Susan said. "You should see what he's done

out back. He's got veggies and everything. He'll give you the tour
later."

The house was decorated with Susan's oils and sketches, which we both

commented on and admired. I told Susan that my wife used to draw and
paint. She

had also taken courses in college in both drawing and painting. When we
were first

married, she made ink drawings for our Christmas cards and invitations.
But as the

quotidian demands of life increased, she had less and less time for her
art and had

not picked up a sketchbook in years. When Susan heard this, she got out
another

sketch pad and insisted that my wife try sketching again while we were
having tea.

We had tea in their sitting room, which doubled as a dining room. It
was a

small cozy room with windows looking out on the roses in the front
garden. There

was a small table and four chairs in the center on a gray Axminster rug,
with roses

around its border. There was a couch upholstered in rose and gray
facing the

window, a sideboard along one wall, and on the opposite wall, what they
called an

electric fire - a fake fireplace with an electric heater built into it.
Dominating the

room, over the sideboard, was a portrait of Robert that Sue had painted.

So over tea, while Susan did a sketch of me, my wife tried her hand at

Robert. My wife was rather discouraged with her effort, but Susan was
very

encouraging. "For someone who hasn't sketched in years, that's very
good. There's

a lot of talent showing. You just have to regain confidence in your
line and get your

eye a bit more back in practice." Following a few of Susan's pointers,
my wife

managed to get quite a respectable picture of Robert. Then we looked at
Susan's

picture of me. It was wonderful. With a minimum of lines she had
somehow

captured me.

We asked to see the other sketches in Susan's book, so she turned back
to

the beginning and showed them to us. They were almost all of Robert.
The first

several pages were of his head and upper body, dressed in a loose shirt,
opened at

the collar. Then there were pages showing all of him in various
everyday clothing,

rapidly drawn, as if she had captured him in snapshots as he went around
the house.

Then began a series of nudes of him - standing, sitting, lying in
various positions.

These sketches were extremely well done, with a lyric eroticism
pervading them.

He was tall, on the thin side, but well-muscled, and she had captured
the three

dimensionality of his musculature with deft shading. She also had
studies of parts

of him - his hand, his elbow, but mostly his prick. Her sketches showed
the loving

effort she had devoted to his prick. One sketch, in particular, showed
his prick and

balls in full detail. Susan's three-dimensional shading that even
indicated the veins

running along his prick. Minute detail showed the crinkles in his ball
sack, the seam

that nature had closed it with, and even a dark birthmark on it. Around
all this was

carefully detailed pubic hair, which then faded off with the rest of him
barely

sketched in with a minimum of lines, as if his body was an ethereal
frame, there

only to support his more corporeal genitals.

"I just love Robert's cock," Susan said, turning to my wife. "Isn't it
a lovely

cock? Not too big and not too small. Cleanly circumcised, so the ridge
is pretty.

All in all, just right."

My wife reddened a bit and finally agreed, "It's a lovely cock." She
wasn't

used to talking about her friends this way.

Susan continued turning the pages. Now the sketches of Robert showed
him

with an erection. Again, they were surrounded by studies of his prick
in full

tumescence - studies drawn from all angles, with a variety of
techniques, but all

showing the adoration Susan had for Robert's prick.

"Robert is such a joy to sketch. He's a perfect model. He can hold a
pose

forever. Why don't you try sketching him?" Susan said to my wife.
"Robert, take

off your clothes and pose for the lady. Come," she said, turning to me,
"you can

give me a hand moving this the table out of the way and onto the porch.
It looks

like it will be a perfect evening for eating on the porch when we get
back from the

theater." And somehow, before either my wife or I could say anything,
Robert was

stripping and Susan was fussing about the lighting. With Robert
standing naked in

front of her, there was little my wife could do to cover her
embarrent other than

sit on the couch and start sketching as Susan and I moved the table.

So I helped Susan move the table to the porch, and then moved the chairs

out, and then I helped her get some food ready in the kitchen for our
late dinner. By

the time we got back, my wife was working on her third or forth sketch,
and Robert

was standing there with a full-blown erection. His prick, stiff and
sticking straight

out from his groin with just a hint of an upward curve to it, had a
purple bulbous

end. A large vein meandered along its upper length, while a fine mesh
of blue

capilaries gave the shaft an overall bluish tint. The birthmark on his
balls was

clearly visible.

"Oh, that's lovely," cried Susan, whether in reference to my wife's
sketch or

Robert's prick was not clear. Susan turned her attention to the sketch
and then

looked at the other sketches my wife had done. "I can already see
improvement.

You're getting your confidence back. You should do some more later
today and by

tomorrow you'll be up to your old form. Why don't you let Robert show
you his

veggie garden now while your husband models for me? Robert, go put a
bathrobe

on and give her the grand tour." Then, turning to me, she added, "Get
out of your

clothes and stand over there where the light is good."

Susan's take-charge way overwhelmed us. Before I really thought about
it, I

was taking off my clothes and Robert had slipped on a bathrobe and
slippers and

disappeared out the door with my wife. Suddenly, I was alone and naked
with

Susan. For a while, Susan said nothing, except to change my position,
or to remind

me not to move when holding a pose. Then, without looking at me, she
asked,

"Why do you suppose Robert had the hardon? Hmmm?" She paused. "Do you

think maybe someone gave him a little help?"

I didn't know what to say. Susan had a way of catching me off-guard,

asking a question or making a statement that I was utterly unprepared
for. Unfazed,

she went on. "She was awfully close to him. Do you think maybe she
reached out

her hand and ran a finger along his cock? Maybe she cradled it in her
hand and

helped it get stiff." She looked up at me and smiled. "Maybe she even
ran her

tongue along its length, or gave it a kiss on its tip. What do you
think?" And she

winked.

The image of my wife handling or licking Robert's prick got to me. My
own

prick responded by swelling up, so it was as stiff as Robert's had been.
Unlike

Robert's, mine stuck out and up from the groin at a steep angle, and the
head of my

prick was more conical in shape, less bulbous than his. Susan sketched
rapidly. I

took a deep breadth and hoped that my prick would soon subside, but
Susan kept it

up. "He doesn't usually get a hardon when he poses for me. I have to
get him

started. Sometimes just a caress is enough, but sometimes I've got to
take it in my

mouth to get him rigid enough for the picture I want."

Consequently, when my wife returned from her tour with Robert, I was

sticking up like a flagpole and thoroughly embarrassed. My wife looked
a little

embarrassed, too, even before she saw me, and Robert looked a little
different than

he had when he left. As if his robe had been opened and hastily retied
differently.

"We better wash up and get dressed if we're going to get to the theater
on

time," Robert said as he came in the door. "It's very informal, we can
wear what we

were wearing during the day." Susan put down her sketch pad and my wife
and I

were bundled off to our room to get ready, but not before looking at the
sketch

Susan had just done of me. It was amazing. Somehow, in a picture that
looked very

much like me, without concealing my bodily flaws, she had instilled an
energy and

vitality that I didn't feel I'd had in years. The man who's image
stared out at me

from the page of Susan's sketch book was alive and sexy, an adjective
that I would

never have thought to apply to myself.

"My, that must have been exciting," my wife said in the privacy of our

room. "What was going on?"

I told her of Susan's comments that had elicited my erection. "What
went on

with you and Robert?"

She said she was just sketching him and not really talking, when she
noticed

his prick beginning to move and expand. She didn't say anything and
didn't know

how to behave, so she just kept sketching and he kept growing. "Maybe
he was

remembering some experience with Susan when he posed for her," she
suggested.

"Or thinking about having the same experience with you," I thought but
didn't say.

In the garden, he had showed my wife the various plantings. It was a
lovely large

garden, part formal with lawn and bushes and the ever-present roses and,
behind, a

large vegetable patch. They had discussed gardening with her until they
came to a

little gazebo. He told her that Susan had found a dictionary definition
of a gazebo "An erection in a garden" - and that got him on to the subject
of his prick. "Susan's

got a fixation about my cock," he'd said. "She loves to draw it in all
its

configurations. If it's not hard enough for her, she drops her sketch
pad and makes

sure it reaches the rigidity she wants." He'd gone on like this, to some

embarent to my wife, when she noticed that he was getting erect
again. First

she could see the bulge under is robe, and then his prick had stuck out
through the

robe's openning as if he was unsuccessfully trying to conceal one of his
large, long

zucchinis under his robe. Robert had gone on discussing Susan's cock
fixation for a

few minutes more and then suddenly realized he was sticking out. "Oh,
excuse me,

I'm sorry," he had muttered while he retied his robe to cover his prick.
Then he had

quickly changed the subject, "We'd better be dressing for the theater.
It's getting

late." My wife said she would have been even more embarrassed had he not

previously been standing naked in front of her only a little time
before.

All in all, this was a side of the Hunters we hadn't seen in Russia, and
we

were pretty confused as to what to do. They were catching us off guard
at every

turn. Well, at least at the theater things should be normal, unless it
was one of those

60s audience participation in the nude sort of thing, we joked. It
turned out that the

play was a perfectly normal play, but they still managed to catch us, me
in

particular, off guard.

It was a small, local theater. Robert said that they wanted us to see
how

good community theater could be in England. The building was small,
evidently a

converted barn in which they had installed a stage at one end and a
number of

straight rows with an aisle on either side. Our seats were in the first
row on the

extreme right. Susan insisted that my wife enter the row first, so that
she would

have the best seat, closest to the center. Then Robert went in,
followed by Susan,

with me on the aisle. So, Susan was on my left, there was nothing in
front of me but

the stage, and on my right was nothing by the aisle and a wall. This
geometry is

important for what followed.

No sooner had the lights gone out and the play started, than I felt
Susan's

hand on my crotch. At first I thought it had happened by accident, but
when I tried

to move away, she got a grip on my prick and wouldn't let me move. I
looked at her

and saw that she had placed her large purse in her lap in such a way
that no one on

her left could see what she was doing. She was looking straight forward
at the play,

as if she had no idea what her right hand was up to.

I tried to move her hand, but she wouldn't let me. Any stronger attempt
on

my part would create a fuss and call attention to what she was doing.
That was the

last thing I wanted to do in the theater. I couldn't say anything while
the play was in

progress. All I could do is resign myself to her groping. But it was
soon more than

groping. With amazing dexterity, she had unzipped my pants and her hand
dove

into my fly. A moment later she had my prick out and was rubbing it up
and down.

Whatever I thought, my prick is always beguiled by a woman's hand, and
was

promptly sticking straight up. Well, I thought, at least no one can
see.

However, I was mistaken there. Although the lighting keeps the actors
from

seeing much of the audience, we were in the first row and enough light
from the

stage leaked out that we were visible from that corner of the stage. As
one actor

came over, he must have noticed us, for he suddenly forgot his line. He
stuttered

through it finally, all the while staring at Susan's hand massaging my
prick. Then he

tried to position himself so the actress he was playing against would
have to move in

our direction. Evidently that wasn't what the script called for, so she
resisted.

Eventually, however, he managed to maneuver her close to us. The effect
was

startling. Her mouth dropped, she stared at us, and she completely
ignored the

speaking cue he had given her. Susan's hand went rapidly up and down,
her face

looking at the actors with apparent rapt attention, while he repeated
the cue.

Finally, the actress responded on the third cue and then stumbled
through the rest of

the first act. Fortunately, the end of the act came before I did.

As soon as the curtain started down, Susan removed her hand and I

immediately zipped up my fly. When the lights came on, Robert rapidly
ushered us

to a table they had reserved for tea. Susan's only comment was "My,
wasn't that an

exciting first act." I, of course, had no idea what the play was about.

They served us tea and cookies on dainty English china, and the Hunters

managed to keep the discussion on the food and the English tea habit and
how it was

giving way to coffee. When we returned to our seats, I instantly
crossed my legs,

covered my crotch with the program, and folded my hands over that.
Susan wasn't

getting in there during the rest of the play if I could do anything
about it. In fact,

she didn't even try. All her attention seemed riveted on the play,
which I now tried

to figure out. So the only thing unusual about the rest of the play was
that the actors

kept passing though our corner of the stage and looking in our
direction, no matter

what the script called for.

Driving home, Richard driving in the front with my wife, and Susan in
the

back with me, we discussed the play. We agreed that the level of acting
in England,

even in this small, local theater, was much better than what we usually
saw in the

U.S. My wife said the acting really amazed her, but wanted to know what
was

going on during the first act when the actors seem to forget their
lines. I was

thinking of what to respond when Susan candidly answered, "Oh, I was
playing with

your husband's prick and they noticed." My wife turned around sharply,
and Susan

went on with a smile, "It's incredible how they can keep the play
running no matter

what you do. It's sort of like the royal guards at the palace of St.
James, who stand

stiff and unsmiling no matter what kind of faces you make at them."

Robert took Susan's admission as if it were perfectly normal, while my
wife

seemed to be struggling for words. She looked questioningly at me and I
all I could

do was shrug my shoulders as if to say, "That's Susan." The discussion
went no

further, for by then we had pulled into the driveway of the Hunter's
home. We all

washed up and Susan brought out a lovely cold supper onto the porch.
There was

smoked salmon, followed by a cold quiche and a salad of fresh vegetable
from

Robert's garden, with a chocolate mousse for dessert. We ate listening
to the quiet

noises of the English countryside, with the smell of the roses seeping
in. By the

time we had finished supper, along with a bottle or two of white wine,
and were

working on the brandy, we were all pretty relaxed.

Susan turned to me and said, "Why don't you and Robert clean up? I want

your wife to model for me." So Robert and I cleared off the dishes and
began

washing them, and Susan and my wife disappeared into the dining room.
During

one of my trips between the porch and the kitchen, I looked in and saw
Susan sitting

on the couch sketching my wife, who stood totally nude in the middle of
the room.

The electric fire had been turned on against the cool of the evening,
and the red light

that it cast on her seemed to emphasize my wife's nakedness. Seeing her
nude, with

all the rest of us dressed, gave me a funny feeling in my stomach, so I
quickly

returned to cleaning up.

After we had washed the dishes, Robert sent me back to the porch to get
the

chairs. On the way, I looked in again. Now, no doubt at Susan's
instigation, Susan

was posing nude and my wife, clad loosely in a bathrobe, was sitting on
the couch

sketching. I stared at Susan. Although not exactly thin, she had a
lovely form. Her

breasts were fuller than they had seemed in the loose shirts she wore.
They sloped

gently down from her shoulders, like giant tears running down her chest.
They had

large pink areolas, each crowned with a nipple of a slightly deeper red.
Her waist

was perhaps thicker than ideal, but her hips were beautifully rounded.
Her thighs

were smooth and solid, and at their juncture lay a bush of dark, thick,
curly hair. All

her pubic hair seemed to curl in one direction, giving her a slightly
asymmetric look

- the hair all ran horizontally toward the right, and then curved and
flowed down to

her cunt. It looked like an artist might have done it as a way of
drawing attention to

her cunt, and I wondered if Susan had trained her hair to do that. She
had unpinned

the bun on her head and let her hair fall freely. It hung to just below
her shoulders,

and she had tilted her head so it all hung on one side, over her
shoulder and curved

slightly so that it drew your eye to her tit. It was a splendid sight.

"She is quite lovely, isn't she?" Robert had silently come up behind me
and

almost scared me out of my wits with his question. "Quite," I gulped in
response,

and we went out to get the chairs.

When we finished straightening up, we rejoined the women. My wife had

just finished her sketch, and you could see the strength and confidence
of her line

improving with each sketch she made. It was an altogether satisfactory
sketch of

Susan. But Susan's sketch of my wife was something else again. It was
incredible.

She had drawn a picture of my wife that was both accurate and blatantly
erotic. She

hadn't made her a Playboy centerfold, but the slight spread of her legs
and the look

in her eye that stared up at me from the page gave an overall impression
of

sensuousness, and made me look at my wife with new eyes. It gave me a
feeling

about her that I hadn't felt since the time when we were first
discovering each other's

body. It was breathtaking.

When I told Susan how erotic I found the picture, her response was, "You

like erotic? I'll show you erotic. Here," she pulled the robe off my
wife and had her

pose again. "Robert, get off your clothes and pose with her. He wants
me to do an

erotic picture." As always, when Susan wanted something done, it got
done

quickly. Almost immediately Robert and my wife were standing naked in
the

middle of the room. Susan put them in a loose embrace and then kept
changing

their positions. The effect was that Robert's prick kept rubbing
against my wife's

leg and every time it did so it got a little harder. At the same time,
my wife's tits

would brush against his arm or chest, and her nipples were getting
firmer and firmer.

By the time Susan had settled on a position, Robert was fully erect.
Robert's

left arm was around my wife's shoulders and his right hand rested on her
hip. Their

bellies lightly touched each other, with his stiff prick sandwiched in
between. My

wife's right tit was pressed against Robert's chest, while her left
nipple barely kissed

it. I could see how enlarged that nipple was and how puckered the
areola around it

had become. Her hands were gently touching the sides of his chest, the
right hand

higher than the left. Looking at my wife in this pose gave my stomach
the feeling it

gets when the elevator drops. My breathing threatened to stop.

"I found all this nudity terribly exciting," my wife told me later, "so
when

Robert was rubbing his prick up against me, and I could feel it growing,
I began to

get very stimulated and damp between my legs. I was thinking that you
and I were

going to do some serious fucking when the sketching was over. Then,
when we

were pressing his rigid prick between us and I could feel it throb and
feel the slick

wetness seeping from its tip, the fucking dominated my mind, but who it
was to be

with got less and less clear."

Looking over Susan's shoulder, I could see the sketch rapidly forming as
she

sketched with quick, sure motions. The sketch wasn't erotic, it was
downright

pornographic. It didn't take her long to get just enough lines in just
the right places

to convey exactly what was going on. Then she put her pad down and
turned to me.

"Alright," she said, "you can't be the only one dressed. Get out of
your clothes.

You and I are going to pose for your wife. Here," she said, turning to
my wife and

handing her the sketch pad with her finished sketch, "you try your hand
at some

pornography."

As usual, Susan's wish was our command. My wife settled down with the

sketch pad at one end of the couch without even bothering about the
robe. Robert,

his prick still sticking out, stood beside her so he could look over her
shoulder at her

sketch. Susan had me lie on my back on the Axminster rug and, on all
fours, she

straddled my legs, her head just above my prick. She looked around at
the lighting

and then made me turn a little so the electric fire would illuminate her
face. I was to

look at her face while she looked down at my prick.

I was in a state of only partial erection, but Susan quickly cured that.
She

dipped her head down just a little so that her dark hair fell on my
prick. Then,

turning her head slowly from side to side, she dragged her hair back and
forth across

my prick. This "hair job" felt as if she were caressing my prick with a
feather. It

didn't take long for my prick to be sticking up rigidly, precum oozing
from its tip.

My breathing started to catch again. Susan then flipped her head back
so the hair no

longer blocked the view, and began staring at my prick as the pose
demanded. The

admiration in her eyes, however, seemed more than was required. Holding
the pose,

I guiltily looked over at my wife. If any of this bothered her, she
didn't show it, for

she was busy sketching with a rapid, confident motion of her pencil.

But of course Susan, being Susan, wasn't satisfied. She rapidly lowered
her

head and took a quick lick with her tongue across the head of my prick.
In an

instant her head was back up in the pose, but now her eyes seemed to be
laughing. I

cast a glance at my wife. She still held the pencil to the sketch pad,
but it wasn't

moving. She stared at us. Again, Susan's tongue flicked across my
prick head. She

did this three or four times. By this time, my wife had lowered both
the pencil and

pad and was just staring at us. Robert's hands had begun a slow massage
of her

shoulders. Then Susan ran her tongue the length of my prick, from my
balls up to

the tip. My wife continued to stare.

What was happening to us? I began to think, but immediately stopped

thinking as Susan's mouth engulfed the head of my prick, her tongue
swirling

around it, licking off the precum that it continued to emit. Then, she
took a little

more in, so her tongue could circle around it on the ridge of my prick.
I felt the

urging in my balls, impelling me to thrust my prick all the way into her
mouth, but I

resisted. I looked toward my wife, giving up all pretence of
maintaining a pose.

She had dropped the pad and pencil and continued to stare. By now
Robert had

leaned forward and his hands were on her breasts. His left hand was
gently

clutching and squeezing her left tit, the tit just filling his hand.
With his right thumb

and index finger, he was rolling her right nipple back and forth. It
stuck out hard

and red. But my wife seemed to be concentrating on Susan's head, which
had now

captured half my prick and was sliding up and down on it, her lips
pressing tightly.

My hips were now responding to Susan's cocksucking. My ass tightened

and I began to thrust my pelvis forward to get my prick further into her
mouth. But

Susan placed her hands on my hips and held them. As always, she was
going to

control the action. Maintaining her own pace, she raised and lowered
her head,

gradually taking in more and more of my cock. She almost had it all in
now. My

hands were now on her tits, kneading them and pulling on the hard
nipples.

Again, I looked toward my wife. Robert had moved around in front of her

and was kneeling between her legs, his head at her snatch. I could see
his head go

up as his tongue ran along her thighs, and then down as he licked around
her labia.

The red light from the electric fire illuminated her cunt and made the
swollen labia

seem ever redder than they were. The juices on her cunt glistened in
the light. His

tongue caressed her labia. Then he pushed his head further forward, and
although I

couldn't see, I had no doubt that his tongue was delving deeply into my
wife's cunt.

Still, she stared at us.

Susan's head was now moving rapidly up and down my entire shaft. Her

tongue swirled along the length of it and then, when her head was up,
flapped back

and forth across its tip. I was pulling and rolling her nipples, and
thrusting my prick

up as high as I could, trying to keep it deep in her mouth. I could
feel the pulse in

my balls and felt ready to cum. Sensing this, Susan slowed her pace.

Robert wasn't slowing his pace. He had moved my wife so she lay along
the

couch and was kneeling on the couch between her legs. His left thumb
was rapidly

rubbing small circles around her clit, while he slid two fingers of his
right hand in

and out of her cunt. She was no longer staring at us or, indeed, at
anything. Her

eye's were closed, her right arm thrown across them. Her left arm
trailed off the

side of the couch. Her head whipped from side to side while he pumped
his fingers

in and out of her cunt, and her breasts flowed from side to side across
her chest in

rhythm with the motion of her head. She was thrashing up and down,
pushing her

pelvis up as if trying to force her cunt further onto Robert's fingers.

Seeing my wife so completely given over to another man's actions gave me

a strange feeling in the pit of my chest, almost akin to terror. The
adrenalin coursed

through my body. Wait, I thought, she's mine. But it was precisely
because she was

mine that her reactions were so exciting. I could share in her
pleasure, I could

watch her body taken over with sexual passion in a way I never had
before. This

feeling of shared pleasure, this passion, this terror, all combined with
the excitement

that Susan was eliciting with her lips and tongue on my prick to drive
me to a level I

had never felt before and that I almost feared.

Somehow aware of this, and not fully ready herself, Susan released my
prick

from her mouth and, together, we watched how Robert was driving my wife
wild.

Robert now moved up between my wife's legs and inserted the purple,
swollen tip of

his prick between her labia. My wife's pelvis thrust upward, trying to
grab at that

prick, trying to clutch it. It seemed somehow bigger, fatter, and more
alive as he

slowly began to sink it into her.

As if to avert any qualms I might have about watching another man's
prick

being driven into my wife's cunt, Susan suddenly prevented me from
watching by

covering my eyes with her tits, which now hung pendulously above my
face. She

had mounted on top of me, her wet, warm cunt was fully ready and slipped
down

easily, drawing in the head of my prick. This was no longer the time
for slow

teasing and tantalizing foreplay. I quickly grabbed one nipple and
started sucking it,

while I thrust my prick further into her cunt. I could feel the muscles
in her cunt

clutching and grasping my prick as she lowered her pelvis and completely
engulfed

my prick.

Now the room was filled with the sounds of sex. I could hear Robert

grunting and my wife moaning as his prick slammed into her over and
over. I could

hear the slaps of Susan's thighs as her downward motion slapped them
against mine.

I could hear my own breath coming more and more rapidly as I sucked
Susan's tit

into my mouth and ran my tongue around the nipple. And I could hear my
heart

beating more and more forcefully as I listened to my wife's passion.
Over and over I

heard her moaning louder and louder. Then she suddenly let out a yell,
an

inarticulate cry that she screamed again and again as her body spasmed.
This was

soon joined by Robert's yell of "Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, YESSSS."

Susan was next. With a series of loud "ungh"s, her head whipping from
side

to side, her dark hair flying across her back, she repeatedly raised her
ass and thrust

down. Then she began to cry "Oh, oh, oh," and her eyes closed, her
mouth

grimaced, and seismic tremors raced through her body. I responded by
thrusting my

whole body upward, from my toes, trying to force my prick deeper into
her body.

My arms wrapped around her back and I could feel the explosion starting
to rumble

in my balls. Two more thrusts and it ran through my prick and erupted
into her.

Wave after wave roared from my balls up my prick as I pumped load after
load into

her cunt, which now ran with our juices. I have no idea what sound came
out of my

lips, but I heard a cry of "Aaaaggh!" echoing and reverberating around
the room.

Then all was silent.

All four of us lay there still. The only motion in the room was the
silent

flowing of the sweat, cunt juices, and cum across our bodies, glowing in
the red

light of the electric fire.

When we left two days later, Susan presented us with two of her
sketches.

They are now framed and mounted on our bedroom wall. They are the two
erotic

nudes that Susan had drawn and we had admired so much, one of me and one
of my

wife. They look at each other and at us down on the bed, and they serve
to remind

us how to look at each other.

THE EN