Sunday, August 01, 2004

 

Black Clip Porn Thick Sex story

WARNING: This story is an act of fiction that contains graphic sexual
descriptions and language. If you are a minor (under 21) or if you are
offended by this kind of material then you should stop reading now.
Any resemblance between this story and a real event is coincidental.
The participants are imaginary; their actions have no negative
consequences other than those portrayed in the story. The story is
intended for entertainment and should not be emulated in the real
world.

Chance Gim's Black Arts Magick Plan!

by Arthur Kay

CHANCE GIM sat at the desk in his home office and looked down at the
long list of names, phone numbers, and personal data. He had numbered
them, using the date as a sorting guide. One hundred and eleven. All
women. The youngest, eighteen, the oldest, twentysix. All
proportionately built, judging by the photo each had enclosed. All
carefully weeded from an even longer list of three hundred and eighty
two.

Like fruit, he thought, you gals are ripe and ready, oh so ready, to
be added to the lovelies I already have. All I have to do is give you
my magical song and dance, and you'll jump from the tree right into my
basket.

Yessiree, old Chance now had the pick of the female crop. But it
wasn't always like that, so easy, so sweet and easy. Not at all. For,
prior to his fantastic plan anyway, he had trouble getting near a
woman, let alone having her do his every sexual wish. Like sucking his
cock and fucking him. Willingly. And in front of two other guys, no
less. And come back for more! Again and again. Chance thought it was
no less than a miracle.

At twentyfive, Chance looked younger than his years, but the years
had not been kind. Far from it. He was a loser when it came to the
ladies. Shit, he once said to his image in the bathroom mirror, I
couldn't get laid in a cathouse with a fist full of hundred dollar
bills! It was true, he couldn't, even with new bills.

For how many females are out there, who would want to fuck a cadaver?
A ghostly white, even vampire white, cadaver. One dressed all in
black, the cadaver's favorite color, who reminded anyone with even one
good eye of a funeral parlor director, or an evil looking mortician.

Or Lurch of The Addam's Family fame. A long and lanky Lurch, for
Chance displayed his ghostly pallor on a 6' 5" frame. And he always,
but always, covered the frame in black denim trousers and black knit
shirts. Was it any wonder women immediately thought of him as weird,
strange, and downright warped looking? A freak, a loner, a loser. All
in black. And ghastly white.

It didn't help his chances with women, not in the least, that he was
well off financially by inheritance, owned his own home, drove a brand
new car, and could wine and dine them in the finest restaurants.
Chance never got the chance to go beyond the first meeting. His looks
and demeanor saw to that.

It wasn't two years after he had graduated high school that his
widowed mother died and left everything, the big old house and a
quarter of a million dollars, to her only child. And left him a lonely
hole in his heart the size of a basketball. This, coupled with his
general failures with women, had him feeling so lonely, so out of it
all, and so depressed, he even considered suicide.

But, and in spite of it all, Chance was, as his mother was, a fighter.
He had watched her cope with her husband's sudden death and the almost
failure of his real estate company because of dad no longer being at
the helm.

Instead of caving in and folding up her tent, she fought back. In less
than three months, she had not only turned the company around, it had
one of the best years in its thirtyyear history. "Son, make
lemonade!" was her familiar war cry.

So Chance took his lemon of a life and squeezed it. All he needed, he
reasoned, was a plan. A game plan that would change things and make
them better. One that would rescue him from his doldrums and turn
things around, just as momma had done with a failing firm. All it
would take was time. And, given his now rosy financial picture, he had
plenty of that commodity . . .



IN TIME, a very short time, a plan of sorts did emerge. He called it
Plan "A" even though he had no Plan "B" in mind at the time. Perhaps,
he reasoned, I won't even need a Plan "B."

Plan "A" popped out in the form of an ad in the personals column of
the local newspaper:

SWM (A Leo!), Financially secure, 25, 6'5" 170#, black hair, green
eyes, seeks female for oneonone relationship. Yeah, I like long
walks and cozy dinners for two, but I also dig weird music, strange
movies, and kinky novels. If I sound like your bag of tricks, contact
me at: BOX 12462.

He received six responses to Plan "A." And dated all six, even the two
overweight ones, but only once. None of them, not a one, wanted a
second date. One date was sufficient, thank you, Lurch. Why don't you
go and tend to a grave someplace. OK?

Plan "A," it seemed, sucked. Chance considered running the ad again,
giving it a fair chance to work, but gave up on the idea. He didn't
have the heart to go through the same rejections again.

What I need now, he pondered, is a Plan "B." But he had no Plan "B."
So he took to staying in the house and reading. Perhaps an idea would
be sparked by something in a book, some phrase, some written thought.
But the only books he found in the walltowall bookcase of his
father's den were of the boring kind.

Business books, ho hum, accounting books, yawn, real estate books,
bleh, not one with even a glimmer of fiction or general interest in
it. He couldn't see a plan emerging from this conglomeration of ho
hums, yawns, and blehs. But momma was still in the background,
inspiring him.

He looked at the bookcase and said, out loud to the air around him,
"C'mon, you fucking lemons, get your dumb, lazy asses off the shelf!
You're going into cold storage in the basement."

When the books had been stored away, Chance looked at the now empty
bookcase. It reminded him of an empty shell. Very much like how he
felt at the moment. What it needed was filling up. And fill it up, he
did, and in one helluva hurry.

One quick trip to Samuel's Used Books store was all it took. "Sam," he
told the proprietor. "Here's a hundred bucks. Box me up some of your
best twentyfive cent books, would ya?"

Sam, being quick with basic math, said, "You want I should pick out
four hundred books for you? Just like that? You don't want to pick
them out for yourself? You want me to do it for you? Just like that?"

"Yeah, Sam, just like that. Just don't throw in any ones that are so
friggin' ratty, they'll draw flies, OK?" It was OK by Sam. A hundred
bucks doesn't walk in every day of the week, that's for sure.
Especially when it throws in an extra twenty just to deliver them. All
twentyodd cartons.

When the books had been placed in their new bookcase home, Chance gave
them the once over. Sam had, sure as hell, been truly eclectic in his
picks. There was "The Poetry of Robert Frost." And one called "America
in Pictures." Also included was "Adventures in Literature," a book
Chance saw as having some possibilities for exposing a Plan "B."

There were also books on politics, government, gardening, and basic
homemaking. And one by a Wendell Wilkie, called "One World," that
Chance thought might hold promise. At least until he read into the
book a bit. Wilkie had been, ho hum, a Republican presidential
candidate, yawn, in the last century, bleh!

Stifling a yawn, Chance picked out two to get him started in his quest
for a plan: "Forty Years of Murder" by Keith Simpson, a retired
British medical examiner. Just like Quincy, Chance reckoned. And "The
New Ager's Biography of Aleister Crowley," including, it said, many
passages from Crowley's "Magick in Theory and Practice!"

Chance set fire to some logs in the fireplace, fixed a gin and tonic,
and settled in for some good oldfashioned reading. He started on
Simpson's book first, but threw in the towel halfway through. Yeah,
Simpson was as good an M.E. as old Quincy, maybe better even, but who
the cares?

The book on Crowley was a totally different matter. Crowley, it
appeared, had also been a bit of a loner, and an outsider to society.
An oddball to most folks. One with weird ideas of the world. But, to
Crowley, these weird ideas of his was the way the world should be, and
had to be, in his vision, anyway.

Some called Crowley a genius. Others called him the king of depravity.
But, Chance thought, at least they called him something.

Crowley was also known as a poet, a mage, a prophet, and as a man who
was well versed in all things odd or occult. Yoga, Freemasonry,
Witchcraft, Black Magic, and others of this ilk were in his bailiwick.
He was also seen as the most notorious magician of the last century,
or any century for that matter.

One particular quote by Crowley, among the many the book offered,
grabbed Chance and made him think, really think:

"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law." Aleister Crowley.

Shit, thought Chance, this guy even created a new law! Do whatever the
fuck you want, Jack! I like this Crowley guy. Classy! And he didn't
take crap from anyone.

Crowley's catchword, it appeared to Chance, was "Thelema." Which was
somehow linked to something called The Golden Dawn. It was rough
reading, very rough reading, but he did come away with a few things.

He read how Crowley had created a tradition known as Thelema, leading
to the Thelemites, which was, and still is, a spiritual or religious
system centered on ideas of freedom and personal growth.

But, when Chance read that OTO stands for Ordo Templi Orientis (Order
of the Eastern Temple), a magical order that leans heavily on Thelemic
principles, Chance skipped ahead a lot. A whole lot. Paragraphs and
pages fell by the wayside. In rapid order. The Golden Dawn, poor
thing, never got a chance to really come up.

When he read about neophytes entering the paths of evil, and something
about Konx om Pax, and "The thinkable is false, then? (Once more!)
Yea, but equally it is true." and some crap about avoiding the "Scylla
of Ay and the Charybdis of Nay by the Straights of Nomeaning," Chance
got lost real quick and started his paragraph and page hopping again.

When he read that Crowley had compared Londoners to emptyheaded
Athenians, he could relate. Chance had more than a few emptyheaded
Athenians in his life; they were all around him, Londoners or
otherwise. They seemed everywhere, the annoying, silly fools.

After reading such things as, "The manifestation of Nuit," and, "It is
revealed by Aiwass the minister of Hoorpaarkraat . . ." and, "The
Khabs is in the Khu, not the Khu in the Khabs," Chance felt a wee bit
KhuKhu and ready to call a Khab and go home! Nuits to this shit, he
mused. But he stuck in there, and mixed himself another drink . . .



HOWEVER, soon after picking up his reading thread, with items swimming
around in his head such as, "The Call of the First Aethyr," and
"Goetia of the Lemegeton," he'd had it. Up to here. But he saw a
potential in it all. A helluva potential.

Plan "B" had arrived, and was staring at him from the horizon of his
mind: He would start his own Crowleylike group of magic seeking
individuals and, to be sure, they would all be females.

Except, he quickly figured out, for two other males, his two friends,
Ben and Jerry, if you could call them friends, to give his magic group
a little yin and yang balance.

Plus, he reasoned, if he couldn't comprehend this shit, the average
person couldn't, sure as hell, either. Lordy, he thought excitedly, I
would be the teacher and they would be my . . . willing pupils. Very
willing pupils. Oh, yeah, I like that. Thank you Plan "B." You look so
much more promising than that schmucky Plan "A."

For, in his reading on Crowley and the black arts of magic, Chance had
glommed onto another particular phrase:

"Sex is a serious road to magical power and a gateway to the
unconscious mind."

To Chance, this translated easily into: Sex! Magic! Power! House!
Mind! Ergo, women! Ergo, slave women! Ergo, sex slave women! In his
house! All he had to do to make it a reality was fuck with their
minds. Which, he now firmly believed, would lead to fucking with their
bodies. And their mouths! And, lordy, perhaps even an ass hole or two
tossed in for good luck.

Another passage he read concerned Crowley's attitude toward women. He
felt women had no magical powers of their own. The men had it all. One
women, a practicing witch, emphasizing this point, was actually quoted
as saying:

"The only way a woman can get the power that lives within men, is to
swallow their sperm! The lifegiving magical sperm that comes from the
shaft of life. Or by taking this magical elixir into her vaginal
sheath."

Holy shit! Thought Chance, Crowley, you were a real genius! Take my
sperm, honey, and feel the magic going in you! Unreal!

The incredible possibilities he now had crawling all over his brain
seemed not only hopeful, and certainly doable, but endless and
beautifully simple. As long as one had an imagination. And Chance
knew, if nothing else, he sure had that little needful thing.

Thus, with excitement oozing out of every pore, he immediately started
on a design plan for a room. A room where all the action would take
place. The magical room. Of suck and fuck. Where women would swallow
magical spermand ask for seconds . . .



A THOUGHT POPPED UP. He would use the windowless basement room. It was
very large and perfect for the job he had in mind. True, it would have
to be cleaned, emptied of clutter, and the walls, floor, and ceiling
painted, but it had wonderfully rough old cobblestone walls. Just like
in a castle. Or a dungeon! He could picture the flickering light of
the candles playing on the old stones. It was all, to Chance, sounding
simply delicious.

Black! It had to be all black, his favorite color. Walls. Floor.
Ceiling. And low lighting. Yeah! Candles! Only candles. Too dark? Wait
and see. Torch sconces were also a possibility. They would look great
on the black walls.

Also, a dimmable overhead tracklighting source would be a snap to
add. And, he just now thought of it, a rebirthing tub! Made of rough
hewn wood for a backtonature effect. Caulked to hold water. Warm
water. Body temperature water. He quickly sketched out the tub.

Its dimension would be 2' x 3' x 6.' Coffin like. He liked that
aspect. He then sketched the plan for the roughhewn wooden table. A
fuck table. But not an ordinary table.

Dimensions: Just wide enough to hold a woman's back! No, make it wide
enough so she can rest her elbows on it. This width would make it look
different from your everyday household table. It would look a little
magical.

Height? Cock height! For stand up fucking. But he foresaw a small
problem. He was 6'5" tall, Ben was 5' 10" and Jerry, 5' 8." An
adjustable top! But no electric. Too modern. A hand crank setup. Piece
of cake. He could build it. The thought that perhaps a bed would be
easier to do crossed his mind, but he threw that out. Too obvious. Too
hornybachelor like. Too much like . . . like . . . a bedroom. Not
very magical.

And, ho ho, he thought, it needs a spermswallowing area. Think! Aha!
A platform! A round one. Wood. Rough looking wood. Like the tub and
the fuck table. Delicious.

Dimensions? A diameter just large enough to hold four people, three
men and woman. 5'? 6'? He'd have to figure it out later, but six, as a
guess, seemed the most promising. Height? Low. 6" off the floor seemed
ideal.

And a camera! A hidden one, of course. Allowing him and his cronies to
review the actual proceedings at their later leisure. A training film,
if you will. But why only one? Four! One capturing the inside of the
tub. Another, the spermeating arena. With two aimed at the fuck
table, taking two different angles. Oh, what fun!

Wait! A fifth, to capture her walking naked around the tub! Yeah! I'll
have her walk around the tub a few times before getting into it. Give
us boys a good look. Four times? No, five sounds better, much better.
With instructions to walk slowly! Maybe not? Too lecherous sounding?
Weigh this aspect.

How, he thought, is the best way to get Ben and Jerry involved without
them thinking it's just another of my oddball ideas? While mulling
this over, he made a quick note: Black robes, men's and women's sizes.
With those kooky hooded cowls. Designs on them? No. Keep it simple.
Black simple.

He solved the Ben and Jerry problem by deciding to wait until the room
had been completed. This would telegraph his seriousness. And, if
these doltish Athenians didn't bite, well, fuck 'em, he'd find two
others easily enough.

Ben and Jerry not only bit, they swallowed the idea, hook, line, and
sinker. Neither of them was in the chick magnet arena. And the way
that Chance had laid it all out for them, showing them his now copious
notes on the subject, and the all black, magical room, with 30
candles, and four torch sconces, how could they resist? It had vast
potential. Even Jerry, the dimmest of the trio, could appreciate that
little tidbit. The entire room had the aura of otherworldness. And
magic seemed to be present in the overall feel of the room.

Chance had even figured out how to go about getting the magicseeking
females. An ad in the personals of the local newspaper:

If you're a female, 1835, who wants to put real Magick into your
life, join us now! Expand your mind and your power. Be a better you!
We have a few (limited) openings for select new initiates. Contact
Aether, High Priest of The Black Arts Magickers. Box 34213.

And thus, Chance Gim's Black Arts Magick plan quickly went from his
fertile mind to a firm reality. He was now, today, known to a cadre of
willing servants, consisting of two loyal men and twelve loyal women,
as Aether, High Priest of the Black Arts Magickers of Coventry. With
Coventry being an imaginary place of the mind, and not any actual
location he had in mind.

He had simply chosen the name because it reminded him of London, and
those emptyheaded LondonAthenian fools. That, and because it had
the word coven in it.

Chance had built the tub, which he named The Thelema Tub, from 1" x 4"
planks of cheap oak lumber. When finished, it measured 2' x 3' x 6'
and looked as boxy as a pine box coffin. He then caulked the tub's
interior to make it waterproof.

The overall effect looked more than just homemade, it looked sloppily
homemade. Chance had slathered on the caulking, and it was heavier in
some places than in others, bumpy here, smooth there. And the light
color of the caulking stood out starkly against the dark wood's rough
surface, magnifying the errors immensely. He had planned it this way,
in keeping with a back to nature look.

And it did the job it was intended to do, hold water. And, in a room
lit only by candles, torches, and controllable track lighting, it had
a mysterious and magical aura to it.



BEN wasn't too keen on the name Chance had given the group. "Still
sounds like a fucking small town basketball team to me! Schmucks, 6,
Magickers, 2."

Although Chance didn't say it, he thought: Piss off, you Athenian
headed dolt! What the fuck do you know about it all, anyway? You
schmuck. You loyal fucking schmuck. Kiss my High Priest's ass.

What he said, was, "I have my reasons, Ben. Now, go and prepare the
tub, we have our thirteenth baptismal rite tonight. Her name, if that
matters at all, and in case you forgot, is Yolanda. Sounds kinda
magical, don't it? But, you dumb shit, what really counts is she has
great tits and a bodacious ass!" Chance knew exactly what to say to
motivate the faithful Ben. "And get Jerry to help you."

Thirteenth! A lucky number . . .



WHILE Ben and Jerry got the baptismal Thelema tub prepared, Chance
remembered his first female follower of the Coventry Magickers,
Margaret, or Maggie. He called her Magic in honor of her being his
first faithful female follower and because it fit her name.

Margaret didn't know this fact, her being first, and he wasn't about
to enlighten her. That was one of the good things about being the High
Priest; he didn't have to tell anyone shit about shit. He only had to
tell them what he felt they would eat up in their ridiculous quest for
magical powers. Just the way he did at Margaret's first "get to know
us" meeting with him. He had snowed her plenty.

Their second meeting was more pointed. The introduction to the black
robe. The necessary nudeness beneath the robe. The black room and
candles. Give her just a small taste. Some mumbojumbo incantations. A
handful of odd sounding names, such as Nuit, Thelema, and the Khu's
and the Khab's crap. A mantra was also spoken, in unison, and very
somberly:

"Ommmm! Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. Ommmm!"

The third meeting was the swearingin phase. Where the woman, and the
roleplaying initiates, Ben and Jerry, would be sworn to absolute
secrecy . . . on "pain of death . . ." should they ever reveal to the
outsiders, the profaners, exactly what went on in this magical room of
the Coventry Black Arts Magickers.

It was all cleverly geared to bind the woman to the cause, to the
magic, to the power, and, to be sure, her fellow practitioners.
Without her smelling a male rat at the same time.

It was, to the woman, quite heady stuff, highly charged and exciting.
Just like being on a movie set and playing a part. Without, however,
being aware of the cameras. Just as Chance had planned it would be.
And by now, the three black arts magicians had it down to a science.

The fourth gettogether for Magic Margaret was the Thelema Tub bit.
Where anyone could be reborn, any female that is, and as Margaret had
said herself, "It's just like old Grisabella, the Glamour Cat, who
gets a new lease on life in Cats, the musical." But with a foot of
warm, body temperature water thrown in.

Ah, Margaret! How great she was! How sweet it was, too. And how easy
it had all gone. In just three meetings with her new High Priest,
there she was, standing naked, willingly, in front of him and his two
minions. Momma, it was all they could do not to gawk and drool all
over themselves.

Ben and Jerry played their roles of initiates very well. Geared to get
her used to the idea of being in the same room, and naked, with the
three men. Each would be asked, in turn, with Ben being first, "Are
you ready to be baptized and reborn, my faithful follower of Thelema?"


Ben would say, quite somberly, "Yes I am, my High Priest." Then Ben
would be told to remove his black robe and, and it should be said, he
played his acting part very nicely. He darted his eyes about as if
nervous, coughed a few times, then looked slightly, but only slightly,
embarrassed.

Ben, naked before the other still robed people, with his semihard
erection in plain view, was given the instruction to walk around the
wooden Thelema Tub. Very slowly, and exactly five times before getting
in and sitting down in the baptismal water.

There was a reason for the five times tub walkaround. It gave the
boys a good, long look at the female initiate when it was her turn.
And it afforded them, and the camera, many enticing angles.

It also gave Chance the opportunity to judge her willingness, or
reluctance, at having to walk naked in front of the men. He would then
know just how much schmooze he had to lay on her in order to get her
to do the suck and fuck session.

Margaret went next. Same words spoken, same answer. She was a good
faithful follower. When she popped her black robe up over the top of
her head, the boys almost lost it.

Ben stared bugeyed, his tongue hanging out, his saliva beyond his
control and running down his chin. Jerry gasped, quite audibly,
startling everyone in the room but himself. And the High Priest almost
whistled, and surely would have if he hadn't had the presence of mind
to bite his tongue hard. For Margaret, sweet Magic, was mindblowing
gorgeous.

And Chance estimated that the little minx knew it. She had taken, in
his opinion, more time than necessary to let the robe fall to the
floor. It had just hung there; her hands in it, over her head, letting
the boys get a good feast of her body. Chance thought: Oh, yeah,
Magic, you're an exhibitionist, for sure.

She did her five times around the tub as professionally enticing as
any striptease artist could execute. Slowly. Sensuously. Cat like. On
tippytoes, her breasts wobbling slightly to and fro seductively, with
her ass cheeks grinding rhythmically together. She walked as if upon a
stage.

Seeing this, Chance had the fleeting idea in his mind that he could
order her to get on her knees before him, right here, right now, and
tell her to grab his cock and suck it, but . . .

But the good stuff, the fun stuff, the suck and swallow and fuck
stuff, would have to wait for a future lesson. Chance knew not to rush
matters. Gain their trust would play out better in the long run. Get
their loyalty firmly set. Make them, in essence, come to you,
willingly and with both eyes wide open. No illusions involved. Thus,
the first such bathing tub bullshit of the Magickers of Coventry
merely ended with a stare, a gasp, and an almost whistle.

Later, mild reprimands went to Ben and Jerry from the magical High
Priest named Aether to behave more coolly, "You emptyheaded Athenian
troglodytes." And they did, in the future. For they now had faith and
believed in the wisdom of their new High Priest . . .



LATER, when the boys reviewed the film of Margaret, they were
overjoyed. There was Magic, naked, and in living color, walking around
and stepping into the Thelema Tub. The track lighting had done a good
job, too. Every detail of Margaret was shown in crystal clarity. Right
down to some small, blond hairs on her areolas, and the unshaven bush
of her pussy.

And Chance had added a new trick to the cameras. They would zoom in
whenever they caught a glimpse of Chance's ring. A chip inside the
ring accomplished that bit of magic. The closeup of her face and
breasts, when she was seated in the tub, was absolutely first class,
and priceless.

All Chance had to do to make it happen, was to place his ringed hand
on one of her shoulders so the camera could spot it. Of course he
mumbled a few pieces of magical bullshit at the same time, to allay
her suspicions. To cancel the camera's tracking ability, all he had to
do was turn his ring around, or hide it from the lens. Simple as a
dimple.

Most of his mumbojumbo crap came from disjointed snippets right out
of the book, but he was not beneath making up a few as things went
along. "Har des kebab, Thelema is among us! Let us praiseth and
raiseth her powers! The Khu are with the Khabs! Let them seeth the
light, those who canst yet see! See, my child. See! Thelema is with
us! Verily and yea!"

He would then reach a hand into the tub, scoop up some water, and
splash it on her chest, baptizing her, and, in the offing, making her
nipples harden up. This made those wet Tshirt contests seem quite
pale by comparison.

Chance had planned on giving Margaret two, perhaps three more bullshit
sessions, but upon viewing the tapes, and having had observed her in
action, he decided she was ready to take the suck and swallow plunge.
Hell, he thought, if it fucks up, it fucks up. Gotta learn somehow.

To this end, he called her and told her he was mailing her the next
sacred part of her initiations. She said, quite excitedly, she
couldn't wait. We'll see, he thought, we'll see, Magic, old gal.

He mailed her a sixpage treatise he had printed out. It was titled,
"Learning and Knowing The Art of Thelemic Sexual Magick! As Practiced
by the Faithful Minions of Thelema, Nuit and Hecate!"

He had written the entire piece himself, with a lift here and there
from Crowley, and a few blurbs from other books on the occult. And,
but of course, the quote from the woman, who said sperm possessed
magic was featured prominently, in bright blue ink. At the bottom of
each page, neatly centered, and also in blue ink, was:

"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law." Aleister Crowley.

Then Chance waited, with bated breath, for sure. A week later, with
the boys figuring she must have chickened out, and Chance blaming
himself for rushing matters, she called. When Chance realized it was
she, with a hello from him and a cheery hi from her, he felt his heart
stop. And his breathing with it. But she opened with:

"My High Priest, as one of your faithful minions, I am ready for my
next lesson. If you will but set a date, I will . . . " He had her!

Unbelievable! Now he had to make sure it was suck and swallow time.
With an erection beginning to form in his trousers, he said, "My most
faithful follower, Margaret, you must first answer some questions.
OK?"

"Yes, my High Priest."

"Good. Now, tell me, my child, have you read the entire Thelemic
monograph I sent you? All six pages?"

"Oh, yes, my High Priest, all of it." Good girl, Magic.

"And are you now ready to receive the magical elixir, as mentioned in
the monograph, from the staff of life?" He held his breath. She
hesitated . . .

"Yes, My High Priest, I am." Her words sounded raspy. He now had a
full hardon, as did the two cronies, who were listening to it all on
the speakerphone. He decided to make sure, damn sure, that she would
do Ben and Jerry, too.

"And, Magic, my dear, if you read it carefully, you know you must
receive three such elixirs for the magic to take place. You do
understand that, don't you? Are prepared to receive from three?" Again
he waited, his heart and breathing at a halt. However, this time she
didn't even hesitate.

"Yes, my High Priest. I am ready for the magic to enter into me. Just
tell me when and at what time you would like me to be there." Holy
fucking moley! It beat the shit out of ordering pizza sent in! "Hello,
could you send over a delicious cunt, one who will suck me and my two
friends off? And if she's not here in half an hour, I understand it's
free! And, oh, I have a centsoff coupon!"

"Tonight, seven o'clock." He hung up, not giving her a chance to
change her mind. He didn't think she would, however, because she
wanted to suck and swallow. That much was crystal clear to Chance. All
he was really doing, he believed, was giving her a reason to do it.
Without guilt creeping in.

Ben said, "Mother fucker! Chance, you're a fucking genius!"

Jerry said, "I don't believe it! Chance, ditto on the fucking genius!"

Chance sat there, his face beaming up a storm. A genius! A fucking
genius, no less.

"And, man," said Ben, "I'm gonna give her one helluva drink of the old
magical elixir. Shit, I haven�t cum in four or five weeks!" He rubbed
the tent in his trousers and when he took his hand away, the other two
could see a stain the size of a silver dollar.

Jerry said, without rubbing his own dick, "Oh, man, me too! I got a
load in me that will drown the bitch! She's gonna be swimmin' in
magical elixir!" He laughed. Ben followed suit with a deep chuckle.

"Yeah, guys," Chance said. "Me too. Its been a while, that's for sure.
Christ, just thinking about tonight is making me tremble all over. I
hope I don't fuck up and trip over my robe and poke her eye out with
my dick!" They all laughed.

"Hey!" Ben said. "Let's rehearse it, check the cameras out, too. You
know, a dry run sorta." He grinned. "It'll take our minds off of the
evening's shit."

Chance knew that sometimes, just sometimes, Ben showed pure
brilliance. He smiled at Ben. "Great idea, Benny, let's do it!" Ben
fairly beamed. It wasn't too often someone agreed with him, much less
a High Priest of the black arts, even though a sham one.

They traipsed down to the magic room, Chance leading the way, the
slowwitted Jerry clomping along at the rear. Once there, Ben
suggested they go so far as to put on the black robes. Chance readily
agreed. He felt it would lend an aura to it being a real fulldress
rehearsal and, perhaps, at the same time, kill some of the anxiousness
he felt swimming all over him and through him.

They donned the black robes, but unlike it would be for real, they
kept their street clothes on underneath. Tonight, if all went as
expected, the Uniform of the Day would be birthday suits, with the
robes merely acting as props.

"Now, guys," Chance said. "She'll be standing about here . . . "



DINGDONG, dingdong! The front door bell. It was showtime. Magic
time. Suck and fuck time.

Chance told the boys to stay in the magic room while he answered the
door. They stood there, looking too excited for words. Chance decided
to lower the lights just a touch on his way out. The less she could
see, initially, the better. The only light he left as is, was the
light that shone on the suck and swallow platform. For the camera's
benefit.

With his robe in place, the hooded cowl over his head, he went up the
stairs, feeling the blood rush to his head.

Margaret looked absolutely lovely. Scrumptious. She had on shorts,
which showed her lovely legs to their full and shapely advantage. A T
shirt top, with the words, Magic is Power! completed the simple
ensemble. And, it was obvious to Chance, she had no bra on. Her large
nipples were poking right at him.

He decided to add a twist to the night. Believing he was now totally
in charge of her, he wanted to push it and play some. The idea had
popped into his head on the way up the basement stairs. He had met her
with her robe in his hand. He placed it on a small foyer chair.

"Now, Magic, as your High Priest, I must prepare you, here and now,
before you enter the room of Thelema." She just looked at him and,
because she didn't speak, he went a bit further.

He reached out and took hold of the Tshirt on both sides of her
waist. He paused, giving her time to absorb it or even protest. No
protest, so he went further. He lifted the Tshirt up and over her
head in one motion, her arms rising compliantly as he did. She was now
naked from the waist up. With the loveliest, rubbery looking tits he
had ever laid eyes on.

Chance wondered why Margaret didn't seem to see him as the pale and
cadaverous ghoul most people saw. She sure seemed to treat him
differently than anyone else in recent history. Or, he thought, maybe
she does see me as they do, but it adds a mystique to my overall
mystical aura. My socalled magic powers. If that's the case, talk
about turning a frigging negative into a mindblowing positive! Wow!
Who knew?

Chance knelt down, his face hidden by the cowl, and unhooked the
button on the side of her shorts. He did it slowly and deliberately.
Testing her. A quick pull on the zipper and the shorts fell to the
floor and bunched up around her feet. She stood there in just her
panties. The light, perfumy smell of her hitting his nose and making
him feel weak all over. Except in his groin area.

She just stood there, her eyes riveted on the carpet, as if waiting
for him to attack the panties next. He smiled. Wonderful, just
wonderful. And what a body you have, my dear Magic!

He was amazed that his hands weren't shaking in the least. And glad of
the robe. It hid his raging hardon. But somehow, he didn't think it
would matter to her. Nothing, he now believed, was going to scare her
away. Well, maybe seeing a severed head in his refrigerator . . .

He hooked both his thumbs into the top edge of her panties, which were
so transparent he could see her pubic hairs quite clearly. Blond and
curly. He kept the fingers in place and said, "My loyal and faithful
minion, are you prepared to do all my bidding tonight?" He had said
the words without looking up at her, preferring to keep his eyes on
her pussy.

He heard her say, from above, "Yes, My High Priest, instruct me and I
will do all you ask of me." Holy fucking cow! He kept his thumbs in
place. Her skin felt cool and warm at the same time.

He said, "And are you ready and prepared to take the magical elixir in
both your mouth and your vaginal sheath? Thrice each as proscribed in
the Thelemic monograph?" It was shit or get off the pot time.

"I am, my High Priest." Whew! It don't get no better than this!

With a slow pull, the panties made the trip to join the shorts. He
stood up, retrieved her robe, and saw she had stepped out of the
shorts and panties circle. Good girl. He stood up and looked right
into her eyes.

"Repeat after me! Tonight I will swallow the magical sperm. Thrice
times!"

She looked right into his eyes and said, "Tonight I will swallow the
magic sperm. Thrice times."

"And willingly take the magical sperm into my vaginal sheath. Thrice
times." She repeated it.

"And in the doing, I will follow carefully any and all instructions
from my High Priest." Again, she swore faithfulness to his oath.

The temptation to tell her to, right here and now, "get on your
fucking knees and work my cock head to death!" was overwhelming, but
he had time. Besides, he had another new wrinkle to play out. One that
just came to him.

Originally, it was supposed to be her blowing them all at once on the
platform, going from one cock to another, but he was going to change
that a bit. He would go last! And the boys would go, not as a unit,
but individually, with him acting as the High Priest director in each
case. It would stretch it out, make it all the more exciting and
enjoyable. And look absolutely fanfuckingtastic on film.

Then, when the two boys had made their, ho ho, deposits, he would tell
them to leave the room. He wanted to teach the lady a new trick. Deep
throat! And he felt she would be more receptive to it without an
audience.

But, for now, he wasn't through with her. He placed his right hand on
the top of her head and said, "Now, my most faithful minion, close
your eyes." She obeyed.

He took a few seconds to admire her body. Her luscious tits stood out
in perfect harmony, the nipples erect, and both moving seductively as
she breathed in and out. Her stomach looked smooth and, he thought,
so very kissable. He had to see more of her.

"Now, true and loyal minion, turn to the west, your left." She
complied. He looked at the profile of her breasts, so perfect. He
looked at the curve of her ass cheeks, so perfect. They were two
lovely globes that seemed to shimmer in the low light.

"Now, my faithful minion, another turn to your left." Again, she
followed his direction. She now had her back fullly to him. He looked
at her ass cheeks. Oh, God, he thought, how I so want to bury my face
in there! And tongue the shit ouf of your ass, you gorgeous cunt.

He kept her in this position by mumbling some nonsense. "Hecate and
Nuit will protect you. Hecate is in the west and Nuit in the east."
He, then and there, decided to push her a bit further.

"The magical triangle of a woman consists of three things. Her two
breasts, and her vagina." Then he reached his left arm around her and
cupped her left breast. "Her left breast is Hecate. Say Hecate three
times." He started to massage the breast, his fingers playing with the
nipple, hardening it up.

"Hecate . . . Hecate . . . Hecate." She sounded quite throaty.

He took his right hand and ran it around her to find her right breast.
He squeezed it, and massaged it, working over the nipple, and said,
"Her right breast is Nuit. Say Nuit three times." He continued
manipulating the breast.

"Nuit . . . Nuit . . . Nuit." Less raspy, as if she had recovered her
voice.

"Her vagina . . . " he paused, letting the words sink in, "is
represented . . . and protected . . . by Thelema, mother of all of the
earth. Say Thelema three times." He took his left hand, with his right
hand still massaging her right breast, and pressed it into her pussy,
his fingers finding the entrance and working their way in.

"The . . . lema . . . The . . . lema . . . The . . . lema." The words
came out haltingly as she shuddered. His fingers probed her vagina
some more. He now shoved three fingers deep within her, judging her
reactions. She was moving her ass in small circles, and her pussy was
sopping wet. Oh, yeah, Chance thought, she's ripe! But, he told
himself, enough of this for now.

He handed her the robe and told her to wait right there. He then went
down to the basement and clued Ben and Jerry in on the new plan. At
first, the two Athenian morons balked at the idea, but he sold them on
it when he said she would learn deep throat. And in future, well . . .




THE MAGIC ROOM now had four black robed people in it. All naked
beneath the black. With three of them having unbelievably hard
erections.

In a darker part of the magic room, Chance threw out some of his
wiggywoggy incantation crap, but this time it was directed at the two
playacting initiates. He made them swear, ho ho, not to hold back on
the delivery of their precious lifegiving magical elixir. "Into the
mouth, yea verily. And into the vaginal sheath, yea verily."

With the boys duly sworn in, Chance now led Margaret over to the suck
and swallow platform. He told her, in his most commanding High
Priest's voice, to disrobe and kneel on the Platform of Thelema. She
complied without a whimper, or even a moment's hesitation.

"Now, minion Ben, disrobe and join minion Margaret on the Platform of
Thelema. Face her, and reveal to her your shaft of life and show her
it is at the ready." Oh, man, you could cut the sexual tension in the
magic room with a butter knife.

Ben complied. Thank goodness Jerry was standing behind her, for his
face was one of pure, unadulterated lechery. Sweat was actually
dripping from his chin.

"Now, minion Margaret, take Ben's shaft of life into your right hand,
at the base." She reached out and took hold of Ben's fully erect 7"
cock. The tip, if anyone cared to look, was coated with precum, a
large white blob that looked ready to give in to gravity. Margaret
surely noticed, but more importantly, so did Chance.

"Minion Margaret, never waste a drop of the precious elixir. With your
tongue, reach out and take in the early . . . uh . . . flow." He
watched as her pink little tongue did just that, flicking at it,
erasing it, then going back into her mouth for the swallow. Jerry, fun
boy that he is, quickly moved around to her front for a better view.

Chance was now warmed to the task of being director. "Now, minion
Margaret, take minion Ben's penis head fully into your mouth and,
using all the ardor and passion you possess, work your mouth, back and
forth, until he gives up of his elixir."

Chance and Jerry watched as her mouth approached Ben's fat cock head.
And then consumed it. Ben couldn't help himself; he let out a great
moan. "Ooooooh!" He shot a glance at Chance, expecting a rebuke for
upsetting the ambience, the mood.

"That's okay, Ben, it's human to enjoy yourself. In fact, the more you
do, the more the magic gets transmitted to your sperm. So, don't hold
yourself back. Minion Margaret, please tell minion Ben not to be
ashamed and to just enjoy himself."

She removed her hot mouth from Ben's cock, looked up at him and said,
"Minion Ben, please listen to our High Priest and just relax and enjoy
yourself." Well, knock me down with a fucking feather! After Ben
nodded down at her, she resumed her magical cock sucking. With an
ardor and passion that shocked the three men.

"Now, minion Margaret, listen to my words. Don't swallow your saliva.
Just let it flow out naturally and uninhibited. It will increase Ben's
pleasure." He knew she had heard him when, a moment later, her saliva
was flowing out around Ben's shaft and spilling onto her knees and
down onto the black robe. Good girl, takes directing well. But she was
only going a halfinch or so beyond the flanged ridge of the cock
head.

"Now, minion Margaret, listen to me. You are not going down the shaft
of life's length far enough. Please take as much as you can into your
mouth short of choking." He watched her lips travel down the shaft
until she had a good four inches of Ben in her mouth. Ben was moaning
like a freak. "Ooooh! Oh! Ooooh, fuck! That feels so good! Oooh, oh,
oh!" He was nearing the end of his road.

"Now, minion Margaret, listen to me. Press your tongue hard against
the shaft's underside and keep it that way." Ben let out a howl! A big
howl, "Oooweeeeeeee!" He was about to cum. And, a few seconds later,
he did. He reached out and took Margaret's head gently into both
hands, and flooded her mouth something fierce. She gurgled at the
first spurt and spluttered with spurts two and three.

Anyone with ears could hear her swallowing. And Ben wasn't quite done.
He dribbled a large puddle onto her tongue. And, again, they heard her
swallow it all.

"Good, minion Margaret. Now, vacuum suck the head until you have
drained Ben completely of his elixir." She did just that, for two or
so more minutes.

During this time, the High Priest asked her, "Can you feel the
connection? The connection between your mouth and Ben's penis? The
magical connection of sperm and throat and stomach?" They all heard
her mumble a yes, his cock still in her, "Mmm Hmm!" And she had, it is
to be believed.

She sucked away on Ben's dick right up until Ben went fully soft and
pulled it from her mouth with a splooshing noise. She then looked at
Chance as if seeking his approval of her efforts. He rewarded her, as
any decent High Priest would do under the circumstances.

"Well, done, minion Margaret, well done, indeed. Thelema, herself,
would be proud of your first effort! Now, minion Jerry, shed your robe
and get onto the Thelemic Platform, please." If you think Jerry had to
be told twice, you don't know Jerry. He was out of that robe and onto
the platform faster than you could say, "Am I next, am I really next?"

Jerry's cock was an inch shorter than Ben's, but it was also a
quarterinch wider, give or take, and with a slightly larger head,
which, as with Ben, was also cummed up all over the tip. Of course, it
never got a chance to succumb to gravity. It went into minion
Margaret's mouth too quickly for that nonsense.

The proceedings followed along similarly to Ben's event, with the High
Priest directing the female initiate. But this time, he added a turn.

"Minion Margaret, listen to my words, while you work minion Jerry's
shaft, reach out with your free hand and caress and massage his
scrotum. This will greatly increase his pleasure." She quickly
complied and Chance took a look at Ben. They exchanged knowing glances
and smirks.

During both times, as Maggie did the men, Chance, here and there,
placed the ring finger in a direct line with the camera. There's
nothing better than those extreme close ups, now is there? And minion
Maggie, so hard at work listening to instructions, hadn't noticed a
thing out of the ordinary. If you could call all this ordinary.

Jerry, too hot from watching before, didn't last more than a few
minutes. But the load he dropped, a big, built up one, forced her to
swallow three times.

It was now time for her next lesson. Chance's deep throat one. Without
a word, Chance waved a hand at the boys and they took the hint and
left the room, quietly, and without a word.

Margaret, seeing the change, said nothing. She was, as far as she was
concerned, in the hands of her magical High Priest, the man named
Aether.

Taking off his robe, Chance said, "Now, minion Margaret, I'm going to
teach you a new way to work on the shaft of life. It's called deep
throat. Have you ever heard of it?" Probably not, he thought.

"Uh, uh, yes I have, my High Priest." She surprised him. So he probed.

"Have you ever tried to accomplish it?" Nah, he thought.

"Oh, yes, my High Priest." Hmm.

"And, uh, did you, uh, succeed?" Never.

"Um . . . yes . . . I did, my High Priest." Holy moley, Batman!

"Why didn't you use it . . . er . . . before? On Ben and Jerry." Fuck,
he thought, that sounded like ice cream.

"Uh, well, II don't know. I guess I was embarrassed. I didn't want
you to think less of me. I . . . "

"Less of you? Oh, my child. If anything I would have thought more
highly of you." To be sure. "Well, then," he said, stepping onto the
platform, "why don't you just show me what you are capable of. OK?"
She nodded, still in the kneeling position. We'll see, he thought, if
you can take my over eight incher.

Chance's boner stood almost straight up, as if trying to touch his
stomach. She reached out and pried it downward. Feeling its urge to go
back to its previous position, she said, "Oh, my High Priest, it's so
strong. I can feel it pressing up against my fingers." She seemed
amazed by this.

"Yes, my dear, and if, while you are sucking on it, you take your hand
away, you will feel it pushing up against your upper lip. Would you
like to see?" She would. Still holding his cock, she put her hot, wet
mouth on the head. She then released her hand from it . . . and
moaned. "Mmmmmmm!"

She took her mouth off and said, "My, yes, it does feel good that way.
Nice and strong. Is it all right if I do you that way entirely, my
High Priest?" He said, "But of course, my dear. Your pleasure is
important here, too." Exact words I would have used.

Well, Magic didn't just suck him off, she sucked him off! With the ice
broken, so to put it, she let out all the stops. She deep throated
him, right down to his pubic hairs, and stayed there a bit.

Then back up to work and slather all over the cock head, her saliva
flying out all around. Her tongue doing little tricks, swirling,
pressing, exploring every nook and cranny it could touch. And she
moaned here and there as the enjoyment of sucking his big eightinch
prick got to her, reached into her, and made her, in her mind anyway,
feel the mouthcock connection. The magic.

And Chance went wild, too. He put both hands into her hair and
proceeded to mouth fuck her. Furiously and with great deliberation.
This created even more saliva. His dick was awash in the stuff as it
splashed out all around his shaft and made its way to the floor below.
He was moaning, too. Loudly.

But even at his hottest, he still had the presence of mind to place
the ring on his finger in various and sundry locations. Those close
ups, you know.

Then he lost the hightoned Priest's crap. "Oh, Magic, you suck my
cock like it's never been sucked before. You're one great cocksucker,
baby, you know that?" She responded with, "Mmmm Hmm!"

As he stood there, deep throat fucking her face, all the way in and
all the way out, his hands on her head pulling her toward him, he
shouted, "You like sucking my cock?" She said, "Mmmm Hmm!" Then he
pushed her even further on the road of commitment.

"And you will suck my cock whenever I want you too?"

"Mmmm Hmm!"

"And Ben and Jerry, too?"

"Mmmm Hmm!" He'd had it. There was no stopping the flood now. Try as
he might, it was a losing game.

"You ready for my cum?" She said, once again, "Mmmm Hmm!"

"Scoot up to the head!" She complied just as he let loose. And the
High Priest sure did let loose, in a seemingly endless flow of lava
like cum. It shot out of him, it bubbled out of him, and shot again.
He heard her swallow four times, moaning after each swallow. He knew
he had given her the biggest fucking load he had ever dropped in all
his years. The excitement of it all mostly responsible for his added
heat.

He pulled his slowly dying cock from her lips. "Now, minion Margaret,
I want you to suck on my balls, going from one to the other, getting
them nice and wet with your saliva. All right?" She nodded and reached
her head out toward his nutsack. And sucked and licked both his balls
as if she was in love with them.

When he felt she had done a sufficient job, he lifted her off her
knees and said, "Now, minion Margaret, are you ready to receive Ben's
elixir into your vaginal sheath?"

"I am ready, my High Priest."

"And Jerry's elixir? And my elixir after Jerry?" She said she was
ready. His wish was her command. He decided to prime her pump a bit
before letting the boys have their fun. He reached down between her
legs and played his fingers into her pussy. As he expected, it was
more than just a little moist, it was hot and dripping wet. She moaned
at the first touch. He fingered her a bit until he felt the time was
now. But she surprised him.

"My high priest, is it against the rules or something for you to
suckle at my breasts?" Silly lady. What rules? Who's rules? Crowley's
long dead. I make the rules now.

Now Chance, his head filled with corruptive power, was tempted to play
cagey and make her beg for a suckle or two. But he decided against it.
He had the feeling that he had one very horny babe on his hands and to
disappoint her could be counterproductive. So he sucked her titties,
one by one, and quite sloppily, too. He got both areolas and nipples
soaking wet. And super hard.

But, shortly, it was time for the, ahem, main event. He led her over
to the crankoperated "fuck" table. A couple of new things had been
added since his original design had formed in his mind.

There was now a soft, 3" deep cushion covering its entire surface.
And, hanging from the ceiling, were two leather loops, one on each
side of the table. The loops were also crankoperated and could be
raised or lowered a full twelve inches. He had thought of it all.

He had her lie on the table on her back; her buttocks aligned with the
edge, and put he both her ankles into the leather loops. They needed
no height adjustment. Thus, there she was, naked, flat on her back,
with her legs spread out wide and held in place at the ankles by the
leather loops.

He then turned the tabletop's crank and set it for Ben's height. Two
clockwise turns did the job. Jerry would require just one turn more in
the same direction. Then, for himself, all he had to do was give it
five counterclockwise turns and his cock would be at the perfect
height for pussy entry. With any small adjustments easily made. The
rehearsals were paying off.

He then told her to wait while he went and got the other minions. On
the way out, he glanced back at her. Her pussy was glistening in the
dim light. This reminded him of a small task to be done. He hit that
area's dim switch up a notch, brightening the area for the cameras.
And its closeup lens.



CHANCE found the boys in the living room, watching TV of all things,
and still as naked as jaybirds. He quickly filled them in on her deep
throat cocksucking skills and had to hush up their natural exuberance.
"C'mon, guys, we've got some fucking to do!"

Ben stood in front of the spreadlegged Maggie and guided his 7"
readytogoagain hardon into her. He was liking this. He wiggled it a
bit before putting it entirely into her. He reached out and fondled
both her rubbery breasts at once, tweaking the nipples into even
greater hardness.

She squealed a moan, "Eeeeeee!" He kept working the tits while he
slowly fucked in and out of her. "Eeeee! Oh, ooooooh! God! Eeeeeee!"
Ben was moaning, too, but softly, as if not to interrupt her sounds.

Ben leaned forward, bent over her, and kissed her breasts, first one,
then the other. Then he leaned farther in and planted a kiss full on
her lips. She immediately put her arms around his neck. The two other
men could hear her moaning throughout the long kiss. Ben broke from
the kiss and stood back up, again sawing in and out of her. With her
legs flailing wildly in the loops, and her head rolling from side to
side, Chance had an idea.

Because the table was so narrow, he reasoned, she could also easily
suck a cock at the same time. So he went to the left side of her and
said, most unHigh Priestlike, "Suck my cock, Magic!" And she found
that all she had to do was turn her head to the left and take him into
her mouth.

Chance spoke again, "Minion Jerry, get to her other side. Minion
Margaret, suck Jerry's cock, too, and go back and forth between us."
She complied, much to Jerry's childlike glee.

There she was, this initiate, being fucked by Ben and sucking two
cocks in turn. And moaning all the time. Chance realized she was one
hot cumloving babe. Oh, he, yeah thought, we're gonna have lots of
good fun times here in the magic room with Margaret.

Ben shot his load. With an overall body shudder and a yell,
"Aaaayeeee!" He stayed in her a moment or so and then pulled out, his
cum trailing stringlike along.

Jerry wasted no time in taking his place at the pussy helm. And, Ben,
bless him, had an idea, too. He went to her right side, offered his
shrinking cock to her and said, "Suck me clean, Magic, suck me clean!"
And, lo and behold, she did just that, leaving poor Chance,
momentarily, to his own devices. He busied himself with some sensuous
titty and nipple play.

When Jerry had blown his wad and departed the vaginal sheath, Chance
said to Maggie, "Maggie, my dear, have you been able to cum, too?"
Thoughtful bugger, eh?

"Oh, God, yes! Three big ones and two smaller ones, my High Priest."

"Good!" Chance said, waving his hand in a dismissal of the boys. "Now,
my most loyal minion, are you ready to receive your High Priest?" As
the boys left, she said, "Oh, yes, my High Priest. I'm ready. Really
ready!"

His heart pounding, he went and cranked the old cranker, lifting the
tabletop up, and her with it, to his ideal cock height. He pushed his
raging dick downward and inserted the head a few inches into her
pussy, feeling his cock's natural inclination to rise back up.

Her pussy felt wet and cumfilled. He knew he was taking gloppy
thirds, but he had decided earlier it was better he direct the
proceedings. Just in case. He could alter it all in the future.

He gave her all hard eight inches and felt cum squoosh out around his
cock. Her pussy made a small fartlike sound. All the way in her now,
he bent forward until his lips were near hers. She took the hint, if a
hint it was, and kissed him. They kissed; swapping spit and tongue
touchings for quite a while. He slow fucked her throughout.

Then, while still fucking her deeply, he placed his head alongside
hers and whispered into her ear, "Did you enjoy sucking three cocks
tonight?" She whispered back, "Yes, yes I did, my High Priest. It felt
wonderful."

"And did you love swallowing three hot loads of male cum?" Again, in a
whisper.

"Yes," she hissed. "I love the taste of sperm." He was getting hotter.

"And did you like being fucked by Ben and Jerry?"

"Oh, God, yes! Oh, shit, I'm gonna cum. Nooooooooow! Oh, oh, oh, oh,
oh!"

He waited for her to subside. "And tell me, do you love fucking me?"

"Oh, God, yes! Oh, yes! Your cock is magnificent! I can feel it
pushing up inside my pussy, just as it did in my mouth. Oh, yes, I
love you fucking me! Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Yesssssssssss!" Again he waited.

"Tell me, have you ever before sucked a cock while being fucked?"

"NNNo! NNot even once." He felt she wasn't lying.

"Did you like that?"

"Yes! Oh, I'm . . . oooooooooooooooo!" He waited for her.

"Have you ever been fucked in the ass?"

"YYYes! My ex boyfriennnnnd . . . oooooooo! And, and, and . . . I
loved it!" Ex? He liked the sound of that. But he had surmised it to
be the case.

"Would you like being fucking in your pussy, your mouth, and your ass
all at the same time?" On, man, he was really getting hot, and so
close.

"YYes . . . yes, yes, yes . . . ooooooooooooh, God! Ohhhhhhh!" She
squeezed his neck. "Oooooooooh, fuck, bastard! Fuck me, you
motherfucker, fuck me good!" Then, a moment later, she seemed to
collapse and lose steam. But he was now ready.

He pumped real hard for a few moments, banging his groin into her
buttocks, then whispered in her ear, "I'm gonna cum, darling, hold
still and take me." Then he moaned as he came, his body shuddering and
shaking. She felt his cock throb inside her as it spurted load after
load. She started showering his face and neck with hot, sloppy,
salivafilled kisses. "Oh, God, my High Priest, I can actually feel
you spurt! That's a first for me!"

He moaned one last time and collapsed upon her belly and chest, his
arms on both sides of her braced against the narrow table.

She said, "Oh, God, my High Priest, I'm all fucked out!" He laughed, a
hoarse one.

"Me, too, minion Maggie, me too!" He then pulled out of her, eased her
out of the stirrups and helped her up to her feet. He then told her to
suck and clean his cock. She complied. Then he told her she was to be
at his beck and call, twentyfourseven. She agreed. Then she
surprised him once more.

"I have a girlfriend, my High Priest, named Samantha, who will be
curious to know what I've done here tonight. But, while I fully
understand the need for secrecy, pain of death and all that, is it all
right if I tell her just enough to get her interested, because, you
see, she's boyfriend free, too, and just loves to suck cock and fuck.
And take it in her ass. I think you fellas would really enjoy Sam.
She's very downtoearth." My, my, my. Number two is on the horizon,
old High Priest. Delivered by none other than number one.

"I see nothing wrong in that, but she would have to go through the
basic orientation just as you did. So, feel free to talk to her. And,
if you think she's of a mind to enjoy herself here, bring your friend
Sam to me . . . "



SAM worked out just as Maggie thought she might. The only difference
being Chance had to teach her how to perform deep throat. It only took
one lesson for the downtoearth Sam to get it right.

Before you could say Aleister Crowley, the five members of the
Coventry Magickers were having sex frequently. Sometimes six times a
week. With fucking, assfucking, and deepthroat blowjobs providing
the evening's entertainment. All filmed. Chance even put together an
Xfile album, with photos and a brief dossier.

Needless to say, the three boys had never had this much sex, not even
in their wildest wet dream fantasies. It was as if they had somehow
rubbed a magical pussy lamp and a wild, oversexed genie had popped
out and had granted them unlimited sex wishes. And the boys only had
two faithful female followers back then. Today, bless their ornery
hides, they have twelve:

Barbara, Clarissa, Freda, Gwendolyn, Janice, Joan #1, Joan #2, Maggie,
Mary Ann, Samantha, Sue, and Wendy. Just to put them into alphabetical
order. Hugh Hefner, eat your old heart out. You too, all you dim
witted Athenians.

The boys were now getting laid twice and day, if they felt like it,
and setting up the schedule was getting to be a bitch. Out of
necessity, most of the women did not know about the others. For not
all were as liberal minded as Maggie and Sam. Only three others were
off that ilk, Freda, Joan #2, and Wendy. Even then, Chance kept them
apart. He was taking no chances by letting them compare notes, of any
kind. Perhaps, one day, he would have a large group sex party. Maybe.

And today, he had a list of over a hundred more! Shit, when it rains,
it pours! In buckets, it seems. Well, after a hastily called meeting
of the High Priest and his two goons, it was decided to take just one
more female and put the rest on the back burner. As backups, just in
case.

Ben, looking through the XFiles album, said, "Man, oh, man, I never
dreamed we'd get so many fantastic women to have sex with us! Look at
'em! All fucking raving beauties, and all with great bodies, too. Man,
oh, man!"

Jerry said, looking over Ben's shoulder, "Christ, you can say that
again, Benny. Shit, I haven't seen this many great looking gals, not
even in my wettest fucking dreams!" He whistled.

Chance said, "Yeah, guys, it is amazing, isn't it? Who'd have thought?
And, shit, they all love it! Fucking love it! We must be doing
something right!" Ben and Jerry nodded simultaneously.

Ben said, looking quizzically at Chance, "Why do they do it Chance?
They can sure do better than us."

Chance thought a bit. "Well, guys, the way I see it, they want to suck
and fuck. We just give them the excuse to do so, without any guilt
trips attached. And, with our secrecy bullshit, they know their
reputations won't get all fucked up. This way they can have their cake
and eat it, too."

Ben corrected him, "Actually, Chance, that should be eat their cake
and have it, too!" Chance grimaced at him and said:

"Yeah, whatever. But one thing is for sure. We fuckers are in sex
heaven!"

Ben said, "Amen to that!"

Jerry said, "Ditto!"

Also discussed at this meeting was, for shits and giggles, which woman
did they think would enjoy having her mouth pissed into?

Because Freda was a little kinky and loved licking ass holes, Jerry
offered her name up for consideration, but when the other two named
Magic as a most likely candidate, he folded up and agreed. If and
when, it was duly decided, they ever added water sports to the agenda
of magick, Maggie was the one.

And, if there was a slow moment, which there hasn't been too many of
lately, they always had the films in their rapidly growing library of
Black Arts Magick porn to gander at.

Enter Yolanda . . .



YOLANDA, the latest novitiate, had already been primed. Chance's first
meeting with her was the gettingtoknowus crapola. Of Magic and
Power and Mind. Blah, blah. As usual, he cleverly left out any mention
of Sex.

She had breezed right through the next two sessions, including the
Thelema Tub ridiculousness, and seemed to be overly eager in her
search for real magic, of the Chance Gim Magickal kind.

Thus, Yolanda's fourth session would be, it seemed, a nobrainer . . .



AFTER CHANCE had talked to her,

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Saturday, July 31, 2004

 

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Thursday, July 29, 2004

 

Black Clip Porn Thick Sex story

This story is fiction. It involves the use of models to be dressed as
mermaids for a movie sequence, where they must wear the mermaid costumes
for a long time during which they must consume a lot of fluid, but cannot
urinate. No hard sex, nothing nonconsensual.

W/s (Holdit), exhibitionism, consensual, MFFFFFF

MERMAID MOVIE

By Francine



CHAPTER 2

Applicants

Information for Those Interested in Posing for Special Mermaid Scene

Will require models to wear mermaid costume for up to fifteen hours

continuously, one day only; seminudity required. Five youthful female

models needed, plus one female between 50 and 60. Older model should

preferably have natural gray hair. All must have attractive appearance

and youthful models must have slender figures. Mature model should

be slender with notably mature bustline. Models will require
substantial

physical endurance, which must be demonstrated in advance.

Those who wish to apply as mermaid models for this event should call

to make an appointment for interview with Tim Holt.

Please arrive for your interview in casual attire, but without brassiere

and with bladder full to capacity,

Lucy and Tim looked at the information sheet they had prepared for the
prospective mermaids. It was being provided to those they considered
prospects and anyone else who expressed an interest. "It's the strangest
looking sheet I've ever produced", Lucy commented. "I'm going to have a
hard time making explanations for all this! I'm going to get the
questions." She shook her head, smiling. "What do I say when they ask
what, 'full to capacity' means?"

"Just tell them what we agreed upon. It doesn't mean they just feel
like they need to go to the bathroom; they have to be way beyond that,
holding as much as they can possibly stand. Tell them they will be tested
on it. I think you should feel the applicant's bladder before she comes
in, and if her abdomen doesn't feel absolutely hard, you should tell her to
go drink a few glasses of water and come back later! With the procedure we
discussed, you should be able to."

"Yes, I hope it works. Let's see, I'm to make appointments so we don't
have over one at a time, and I will be sure they meet the requirements
before I send them in to you. We agreed I would have them remove
everything above the waist before they come in to see you. I suppose you'd
like to interview them naked, and watch them pee at the end of the
interview, but I doubt most would agree to that. Since the job doesn't
require them to show their legs, it doesn't really matter what kind of legs
they have. "

"OK, let's do it that way. I will interview them, and draw it out for a
while. If she really has a bladder full to capacity, you will have checked
it and found it feels hard, so if you send one in, I'm going to assume she
is full to the brim. By dragging out the interview, and asking her to pose
a bit, I'll be able to judge if she can really look cute and pretty while
struggling with an overstretched bladder. If I'm satisfied with her, I'll
send her back to you, and then you ask her to go behind the screen and pee
into the pitcher. If she can't do it, she must not be full enough. If she
produces much less than a quart, we probably can't use her because she
won't be able to hold enough for the session, what with all she'll have to
drink. We can't risk using a girl with a small bladder, or who doesn't
have really good control over it. It should be a good test. But I'm still
afraid of the one we need for the mermaid mother finding an older woman
to meet these requirements is going to be rough!"

They did their work, and Lucy began to call their list to schedule
interviews. They hoped at least a few new volunteers would call in to get
on the list.

Monday morning came, and Lucy had scheduled nine interviews, starting at
9 A.M. Time was getting short, for on Friday the scene was to be shot.
They needed to have their mermaids prepared.

At nine, the Paula showed up, the first candidate. She was twenty,
about five feet five, slender and very good looking. She had on casual
attire, as had been requested; jeans, with a colorful shirt. Lucy looked
her over. There were no bra straps in evidence. Her bustline, however,
looked high and firm, but not particularly large. She was noticeably
nervous, fidgeting and shifting from one foot to another.

Lucy greeted her, then made an excuse to have her wait. She slipped
quickly into Tim's office. "Number 1 is here, Tim! And the way's she's
jumping around, she must be close to full up! I'll keep her maybe fifteen
minutes and send her in with her top half au naturel."

"Paula,. sorry to keep you waiting. Did you understand clearly what we
need?"

Paula nodded, fidgeting nervously. "I've tried to meet what you asked,
but isn't this a very unusual type of interview? It seems the rules are a
bit as though I was going for a medical."

"Yes, Paula, it is unusual. We not only have to have models for this
job who look the part, but they have to have a lot of physical endurance.
The day of the shooting will be a very long one, and you will have to spend
it inside a costume that will greatly restrict you. We have to be sure the
ones we select can tolerate it."

"I know about what a mermaid costume is going to look like, so I guess
that explains the nobra bit; but I don't understand why I need to come
with my bladder so darned full! Do mermaids have to pee in this scene? If
that's part of it, I'm really not quite into that!"

Lucy laughed a bit. "No, Paula, the mermaids won't have to pee. In
fact it's really the opposite of that mermaids don't pee, and the models
posing as mermaids won't be able to, at least not as long as they are
wearing the costumes, which may be up to fifteen hours. During that time,
however, they will have to drink quite a bit of liquid, as part of the
scene. We need models who can look like mermaids, but they also have to be
able to hold a lot of pee for a long time, and we can't take a chance on
you not being able to do it next Friday. That's why we need to have it
demonstrated today. Do you understand?"

Paula seemed a bit astounded. "I see your point. I need to get on with
this what do I do?"

"Slip off your shirt and let me see you without it. You can hang it on
the clothes rack. I see you followed the rules no bra. right?"

"Right. I got it. Say, if I take things off here, is someone going to
walk in one me? I don't want to be an exhibitionist!"

"Don't worry," Lucy reassured her. I've got the outer door locked. I
won't unlock it while you're undressed."

"Did you say undressed? Look here, the paper said seminude. I'm
willing to do bare breasts, but I don't really do full frontal nudity!"

"Calm it, Paula. For the interview, you have to be nude from the waist
up. You only need to be totally nude for the time you're being dressed.
The costumers will require you to strip while they get your costume on,
because it has to go over bare skin; but there will be no posing or photos
of your bottom half. However, you will need to be interviewed with your
breasts bare, and afterward I will ask you to step behind the screen and
empty your bladder into a container."

Paula looked puzzled, but removed her shirt. Lucy had her make several
turns, satisfying herself that Paula had a good enough figure for the
mermaid scene. She asked Paula to stand close to her. Carefully, Lucy
pressed on Paula's abdomen. It did indeed feel hard, and the touch made
Paula wince noticeably.

"You feel reasonably full. Paula. Tell me what you did to assure that
you had a full bladder?"

Paula blushed a bit. Being half naked was bad enough, but having to
talk about her urinary situation was really stressing her modesty. "Well,
I got up about seven. Usually, I go to the bathroom and take a pee right
after getting up. Today I skipped that. I drank about five cups of coffee
instead of eating breakfast, and also had a big glass of juice and two
glasses of water, all between seven thirty and eight. Then I drank a
canned drink on the way down here."

"How does your bladder feel, and when did you pee last?"

"I haven't peed since about eleven last night; and my bladder is sore.
It feels hard when I touch it, and it hurts, and I really need to pee
something awful! When can I?"

"In a little while, after your interview is over. All right, you can go
in and see Mr. Holt, now!" She started to open Tim's door.

"Just like you are. Bladder and all. Mr. Holt will make the decision
on who we select."

Blushing and shaking, wearing only her shoes and jeans, Paula walked
into Tim's office. He rose to greet her, and extended his hand. She
hardly knew how to act., She wasn't accustomed to doing interviews half
nude, and, anyway, her distended bladder was hurting her terribly. But she
was a model, and she tried to maintain some semblance of poise.

Tim tried to ease her a bit. "Paula, I hope Lucy explained why we're
doing things this way. I know you are terribly uncomfortable, but this is
the way you're likely to feel toward the end of the day on Friday, if
you're with us when we do the shooting. Despite how you feel, we still
need models who can look like pretty mermaids. So I need you to show me
how you would do it."

He talked with her a few minutes, had her walk and pose, and looked her
over carefully. She did try to recoup her composure and managed a smile.
She did have a good figure, and her bare breasts were perfect for a
mermaid. After about twenty minutes, Tim decided to go to the physical
test.

"Paula, I had to ask you to do this, but we have to see what your
bladder capacity is, because we can't risk using a girl with a weak or
small bladder. What do you think about yours?"

"Right now," Paula replied, "it feels as big as a watermelon and as hard
as a rock. I hope you're going to let me relieve it soon!"

"Right now," Tim responded. He produced a large plastic pitcher bearing
calibrations. "I am going to send you out to Lucy, with this. She will
allow you to go behind a screen in the outer office, and fill it as much as
you can. That will give us an idea of what your bladder capacity is. Go
ahead!" He handed her the pitcher, and escorted her to the door.

Outside, Lucy directed her to a screen set up at one end of the room.
"You may go behind it, while you fill the pitcher," she directed.

"Do I have to do it here? Can't I go to a bathroom?" Paula asked,
nervously.

Lucy explained with a shake of her head, "We can't take any chances of
applicants filling the pitcher from a water faucet or from someone else. I
must ask you to do it here. You do want the relief, don't you? And the
modeling job?"

She blushed some more, but stepped behind the screen. She unfastened
her jeans, dropped them and her panties, and assumed a halfsquatting
position, holding the pitcher under her with one hand.

It took her a minute or so to get things going, but she did manage to
urinate into the pitcher. To her surprise, Lucy talked to her while she
was urinating, asking her of her schedule to assure her availability for
the job. She answered, thoughtfully, but horribly embarrassed to be
talking while she was urinating into a pitcher.

At length she finished. "Do you want it?" she asked, holding the
pitcher. Lucy took it, inspected it, and noted the calibrations. "920
ml's just a little less than a quart. That's a good load for you. And
it's not too strong, either, showing you drank a lot recently and that
dilutes it. OK, thank you. I believe you can be confident of being one of
our mermaids." She asked her to put her shirt on and wait, while Lucy went
in to see Tim with the foaming pitcher of yellowish urine. "I think she
meets our standards, Tim. Close to a quart. And you know, she sure feels
better!" she commented to Tim, as Paula retrieved her clothes and began
dressing. Lucy returned to the outer office, carrying the pitcher. She
thanked Paula and dismissed her with assurance she would be very favorably
considered, after which she took the pitcher out to dispose of its
contents.

At ten, the second candidate showed up. Lucy took her through much the
same routine. She was just a little older than Paula, with a good figure.
She didn't seem quite so nervous, though.

Tim found out why. After his interview, when she seemed just too
relaxed, he gave her the pitcher and Lucy found out she had only 500ml in
her bladder a little over half of what Paula had held.

The day went on. By midafternoon, he had found three girls whom he
felt would make good mermaids, and seemed to have adequate bladder
capacity. Another, terribly upset about her small bladder, asked if she
could come back and try again Tuesday. Two, disturbed about the whole
procedure, left before reaching Tim for an interview. He had three more to
interview today.

Around 4:30, he conferred with Lucy.

"We're doing pretty good with our young mermaids, but what have got for
the mermaid mom? I haven't heard you say a thing!"

Lucy shrugged. "Only one bite, and the woman wasn't interested after I
explained it. You had it right it's going to be hard to find an older
woman for this. "

One more mermaid candidate was added to the "maybe list", after Tim
finished with an hour later. He returned her to Lucy, who directed her to
the screen, from where she returned holding a pitcher filled to 800ml.
Lucy reported to Tim, who responded "She did pretty well, but I don't
really think she looks right. What else have we got coming?"

"One more tonight, and then there's a list for tomorrow."

Tim began his last scheduled interview for the day with Renee, 29 years
old, and the most relaxed one he had seen all day. She walked proudly and
confidently into his office, nude to the waist, as they all had been. She
didn't seem to mind this at all, and acted quite at ease.

Before him, she did the right posing. He thought she was a bit old for
the job, but she had a good shape, and she certainly had poise. What
bothered him was that she did not seem to suffer from bladder distress at
all, though Lucy had signaled him that she indeed had a very firm hard
bladder.

He felt compelled to broach the question to her. "You know," he began,
"you are very poised and you certainly are experienced and look the part.
But I don't understand you feelings you are either awfully good at
covering up your bodily feelings, or your bladder really isn't full. Which
is it?"

"Lucy asked me what I did to get ready, that is, to fill my bladder, and
I told her. I know you want it full, and if you want me to, I can
demonstrate how full it is. I just have a good capacity. I have had to
hold myself lots of times, and I have become good at it. Yes, it's
stretched pretty bad, and it's hurting me a bit, but I've learned to handle
it."

"Good. you can show us" He handed her the pitcher, and started to usher
her to the outer office.. She stood still, looking a bit puzzled at first,
but seemed to get the message. "I'd prefer to make the demonstration for
you, instead of Lucy, if you don't mind," she said, rather firmly. Tim was
a bit astounded, and answered "Do you really? Well, OK, if you want to,
but I'm not requiring it. Without a further question, she unfastened her
slacks and stepped out of them, then pulled off her panties, still standing
in the same spot. Then she spread her legs, held the pitcher under
herself, standing erect, and began to pee a fierce stream into it.

"Does this satisfy you?" she asked, calmly, while her stream shot
forcefully into the pitcher, already half full. He asked her how she had
prepared, and, while continuing to urinate, she answered "I drank water all
afternoon. I don't know how much. At one point, I drank a quart almost
straight down. Another time I drank several glasses, then stopped only
because my stomach was full. I haven't eaten all day, just filled my
stomach with water. It's all water, and I probably drank over three
quarts. I haven't peed since eight this morning, until now; and, you'll
notice, I'm still peeing, and I have more in me. I think I'm going to fill
this pitcher. Do you have another?"

He was amazed. He did have a second pitcher and got it for her. She
calmly stopped her flow, handed him the pitcher filled with about 1350ml of
almost clear urine. She placed the second pitcher under herself, and
asked, calmly, "shall I start up again?" He answered, "Go ahead", and she
released her stream again, continuing her commentary as the liquid poured
from her, "I'm getting low now, probably will stop soon. Am I producing
enough for you?"

He was amazed. She produced almost another 300ml in the second pitcher,
a total of about 1650. What amazed him most was her seeming lack of
distress with a bladder that must have been exceedingly well stretched.

He concluded the interview, and shared his report with Lucy. "I think
she's mermaid number 4", he indicated. Lucy seemed to agree, but she had
something else to report. "The Mermaid Mom I've actually got a bite!"

She got his interest, and continued, "I've called four of our mature
models, and didn't get anyone who would interview for it. But I got a call
from a Martha Lewis, who want to be interviewed tomorrow. She wanted to be
sure she understood the requirements. She wanted to be allowed to come in
wearing a bra, saying she would take it off during the interview. I talked
her out of that, and told her we needed to see how she looked braless as
she came in. She really didn't want to walk around without a bra, but said
she would pose bare breasted. The bladder thing bothered her too she said
how full is full. I told her again, it means as full as she can stand it.
Her reply was 'you mean so full it hurts", and I said yes, indeed. She's
56, says she has natural gray hair, but asked for a later appointment, said
she needed time to fill herself up. So I gave her eleven tomorrow."

"She's a bit older than I would like, and it sounds like she's probably
got well hinged breasts; but, well, she's the only mermaid mom we've got so
far."

That evening, Tim tried to get two older women who had done modeling for
a friend, but got a complete turn down from one, and an "I'll think about
it" from the other.

Tuesday began with them still needing one young mermaid and a mermaid
mom.





END OF CHAPTER 2 (Chapter 3 Next)

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Wednesday, July 28, 2004

 

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Saturday, July 24, 2004

 

Black Clip Porn Thick Sex story

Originally posted to June 6, 2003

The following story is fiction. It is intended for consenting
adults. It may contain any and all sexual perversions. If you
are offended by sex stories, you don't belong here. All
characters are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead is purely coincidental.

This work is ed 2003 by Rod Ramsey. License is given
for end user to make one copy for personal use, without
modification. No website or publisher that charges a fee for
access or distribution shall use this work without prior written
consent of the author. Free archives may store and distribute
this work, provided this disclaimer and notice remains
attached.

If you like the story or have constructive criticism please
feel free to let me know at rodramseyyahoo.

If you really like stories like this and enjoy the spam free
environment of please support . Go to:
</donations.html> for more information.


Forbidden Fruit (M/f, voy, no sex)


John Peck heard the bus stop just down the block and levered
himself out of his recliner. For years he and Jasmine had been
playing this game. John stood at the window, peaking out the gap
in the curtains when she arrived.

Jasmine poked her head through the gap in the fence and looked
toward the house. She was sure he was watching as she wiggled
between the pickets. A couple of years ago the fence was
replaced, yet when Jasmine checked the same board was loose
giving her access to Mr. Peck's garden.

Today it was strawberries, ripe and waiting to be picked. As
the spring and summer progressed it would be cherries, then
apricots and pears, finally ending the season with tart
blackberries. John watched the slender girl bend over and pick
one of the red berries. She had to know the trouble she was in
if caught. Although he had never complained, her mother punished
her if she was caught. Several times he had heard her screams as
she was spanked when younger.

Jasmine noticed the plastic container nestled in amongst the
bushes. A smile played across her lips as she glanced at the
house. Opening the dish she found a couple of chocolate pieces
melted together. The silly old man should have known better than
to leave chocolate out in the warm sun. She so loved chocolate,
yet didn't care to lick the sweet from her fingers.

John could see sudden inspiration cross the girl's face. Her
pink panties showed as she bent to pick another berry. Her face
beamed in the golden light as she placed the chocolate covered
treat on her tongue.

Jasmine worked her way along the rows of berries, picking the
sweetest looking ones. Her back to the house, she knew her
panties and adolescent legs were giving Mr. Peck a show.

John stood at the window mesmerized by the vision. The girl
looked so lovely and delicate in her school uniform. The long
coltish legs, the soft swell of her breasts, beauty beyond
anything he could imagine in his lonely life. He heard the
girl's mother call out her name.

Reluctantly Jasmine set the dish of chocolate down. With a
smile and wave toward the house she slipped through the fence
before her mother came around the corner and into the backyard.

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