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It's amazing the speed at which an idea you don't even know you have can
turn into a plan you don't realize you have made. I had gone to her house,
knowing what would happen. The new idea had formed independently in my
head. I wanted to fuck Kathleen in the ass. I wanted a toy. The thought
hit me just like that. I know it seems selfabsorbed and more than a
little unhinged. Normally guys that thought of other human beings end up
with all three of their names being announced on the news while they cover
their heads. You know the headlines, "Serial Killer Caught" and all that.
It's a classic case of a psychopath to not see people as being as real as
they are. That's one of the reasons guys like Ted Bundy and Jeffery
Dhalmer can be as brutal as they were. I wasn't thinking of anything
brutal or even painful. As I drove home, the idea I had been gestating in
the back of my mind suddenly slipped forward.

It would be easy, well, relatively easy.

The idea was simple. I had to find another job, out of Texas. It had
to be out of Texas because I had a fairly large and close extended family.
There is a strong resemblance with my brother, my sister, and myself all
look fairly similar. Maybe Virginia, that seemed far enough away to allow
me to live this out and see what happened. Virginia would work well, it
was far removed from anyone that knew my family and Kate lived there. She
would be my start. I had already started to alter some of her behavior and
the question was how much more I could. I felt that because I was not too
far removed from my sense of humanity; that I would be able to alter it
further to suit my needs. I wasn't thinking about making her walk naked on
the street. No what I was thinking of was far better than that. I would
take a job and in my time and start a stable of Girls. A perversion of the
standard family. Kate would be my first, and I think I did feel some
degree of anger for her, but that really was yet to take hold. The odd
thing was I actually thought of it as a perversion, yet it did not hold the
revulsion or distaste for me that most people have when they think of the
word. I embraced the idea.

Kathleen called me that night. We chatted about this and that. She
worked for a company that helped small mom and pop stores go out of
business. This afforded her a good deal of travel without many questions
from her husband, whom did not seem too terribly interested regardless.
She was hungry for my attentions and even more so for my cock. As I always
had a tendency to do, I began to turn the conversation sexual. I was
already naked and asked her to do as much. As we moved into phone sex, I
began to talk. I rarely masturbated during phone sex and even during real
sex had a propensity for vocalizing. As she panted and moaned into the
phone I started laying my plan into action, but oddly I had no script or
clearly laid out plan, it was all instinct and happening pretty much
without too much effort.

"I love the feel of your legs around me." I said. "The feel of your
pussy." She moaned. "When you came down last time in that skirt and those
stockings I wanted to fuck you right there in the terminal in front of
everyone."

She gasped and called out, "Oh my sweet love!"

"I wanted to rub your pussy in the car." Another gasp and a moan, she
was getting close. "If you didn't wear panties I could fuck you and touch
you anytime I wanted." She cried out, her breath and voice caught in the
ecstasy and I grunted and groaned with her, simulating the sound of my own
orgasm. Then I waited for her breathing to calm, I had to press my luck
now. I could not allow her to fully come from the plateau she was
currently on. As soon as she was nearly purring in my ear, I pressed the
point. "I don't want you to wear panties anymore."

"What about my period?" She had received a barium enema for some reason
in childhood, but the doctor had been all but a criminal putting the enema
in the wrong orifice thusly putting a whole in her uterus. Still, she had
her monthly courses but assured me there was no need for a condom.

"You already use Tampons. You don't have to have anything to attach
them to." She made a brief sound of argument but did not agree or disagree.
"The thought of knowing you are bare assed under your skirt..." It was my
turn to make a sound, an honest one, of hungered lust. "If you feel you
have to have some pairs of panties, you should by thongs or gstrings only,
oh my god, seeing you in a thong." I made the noise again as the thought
had literally just occurred to me.

"I may have woken Ted." She answered. "I should go."

"Think about what I said Kate, I'll see you in two weeks."

"I love you." She whispered almost silently. I smiled and hung up as if
I had been making the motion before she made her declaration. Somehow her
saying she loved me made it easier for me to go through this. We had
agreed early on that this was not about love and here she was changing it.
Yes, she would do nicely.

I was smiling up at my ceiling when my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey Ian." It was Julie. I had worked with Julie at Kroger. She was a
sweet girl with a nice body, great eyes and a smile I loved to see.
Unfortunately she picked a bad time to call. She had broken up with her
boyfriend several of months before and after a serious car crash that had
removed the pinky from her right hand. She was a nurse now and had odd
hours but we had become fairly close friends over the last couple of
months. She had wanted someone she felt comfortable with to do stuff with,
and had picked me. She had assured me she wasn't looking for love and I
had set that as a boundary in my mind. The last few times we had gone to
the movies our casual flirting had become more intense leading up to the
space of the three weeks I had not heard from her. I was feeling lustful
now and wanted to call up the night she had felt a change in our
relationship.

We had gone out for burgers and a movie and arrived back at my parents'
house. Over the last few weeks, our conversation frequently turned to talk
of sex while we drove. This night, I laid down a challenge to her. So now
we sat on the comfortable sofa and talked about the challenge.

"So really do think you kiss that well?" She asked me.

"It's not really a matter of think, Jules." I really did think of her as
a jewel, so that's what I called her. "It's always happened that way. I
mean when other guys were talking to guy about how to kiss I was making
friends with the girls, I figured they were a better source of
information."

"So how do you do it?" She leaned on the beige sofa, one hand on her
cheek.

"You want me to tell you?" She nodded. "It's not that easy. There no
set patterns or sequences of events that makes a perfect kiss. It's
attitude and paying attention to the person you are kissing."

"Well, that makes it easy to not be able to dispute." She grinned. "You
mean I just have to take your word for it."

"I could show you but you are prepared so it might not take your breath
away as much." I shrugged. "But I also don't want to jeopardize losing my
friend."

"We'll be friends no matter what, ok?" She put her hand out for me to
shake and I took in mine and held it there. "But have to be able to prove
it."

"Agreed." I still had her hand, in a handshake grasp in mine. It wasn't
hard for me to look at her with hunger. I had been attracted to her before
she and Charles broke up. She had soft, though small, and inviting lips
and blue eyes that were soft like the spring sky after a good rain. I
slowly rubbed my thumb on the back of her hand. I looked into her eyes for
three minutes at least and I saw her swallow. She was feeling it.

"When do you start?" She tried to mask the husky tones in her voice but
I heard them. I moved my left hand to cup her right cheek and slowly
leaned towards her.

"Who says I haven't?" My voice was equally thick with lust just before I
brushed her lips with my own. I kissed her softly and gently until I felt
them part. My key to a great kiss is in restraint. You have to be aware
of the subtle hints of readiness your partner will give you. I mean a
woman's neck is a highly erogenous area and should always by high on a
man's hit list, but you can't go stampeding for "the goodies." If you do
that you break the magic and kill the moment. So my rule I use my tongue
when I feel the tips of hers. I don't go grabbing breasts until she is
obviously feeling my up, and even then I wait, keeping my hands on her face
and neck. Kissing her lips, cheeks, eyes, and neck, always only stepping
up or responding to her own natural reactions. Some people might say I'm
dispassionate, but I doubted Julie felt that way. It's not that I didn't
want to just shove my hands under her blouse and my tongue down her throat,
but there was a time for that. I had to hold off until it was what she
wanted, that was never too long from when we started so waiting was not a
problem. I kissed the soft and tasty flesh of her neck, moaning as she
pressed against me. She wanted me to touch her somewhere else. Instead I
pulled her over onto my lap, straddling me. She was wearing jeans and so
was I, but I knew she could feel my rock hard prick and she pulled my mouth
to hers and her tongue invaded my mouth. I started untucking her blouse. I
fumbled a bit on the buttons of the garment but it didn't take long for it
to fall open, I slid my hands up her smooth soft belly. Only the scars
from her emergency surgery marred her chest and stomach and I didn't mind
them in the least. My hands slid over the satiny feeling material of her
bra. The curves of her breasts were soft and warm and I wanted to suckle
on her nipples, my thumb slid into the valley between the twin globes of
flesh and discovered she had a front hooking bra. I thanked God for small
favors, and undid the clasp. My hands moved down and then back up over her
great breasts. I, like most men, did enjoy gargantuan breasts but Julie's
didn't fall in that category. Yet, in my mind they were perfect. They fit
in my hands and were firm and soft and smooth. I was sucking her erect
nipple before she spoke to me again.

"If we don't stop now," her voice was husky with arousal and what I
thought was heavy regret at what she was saying, "your parents are going to
find us in a bad situation." She was right. I helped her get herself
covered and walked her to her car and we shared a very brief kiss
goodnight.

Since then she had avoided calling me. I had been sidetracked from
calling her and should have felt bad but... now she was calling me. A
part of wishes she had called me in the morning and the two of us might
have lived a nice quiet "normal" life, as I do love her greatly. Yet she
had not waited, and now my run away mind had made another decision.
Julie was going to be my queen.

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2004-07-29T22:59:00.000-07:00

RENEWING AQUAINTANCES (Chapter 167)

Saturday, the day after the opening ceremonies, was the day the Olympics
began in earnest. It was also the first day of figure skatingthe pairs'
short program.

It was considered the most wideopen contest of all the figure skating
events. The field was led by the defending Olympic champions and the home
country favorites, Jenny Sellers and Denis Poulin. However, they'd had a
rough year. They'd lost the last World Championship to Andrea and Brett,
and had had a rough time at December's Grand Prix final, finishing only
fourth.

Brett and Andrea were the defending World Champions, but had also had
problems at the Grand Prix, losing to the young Czech pair of Trogonickova
and Kepul. Another impressive pair were the young Russians, Yaskovarina
and Chebinskiy, who had won the bronze medal at the Grand Prix. And, then
there were the Chinese, Yin and Li. They'd had a disastrous Grand Prix,
but were the defending World bronze medallists and couldn't be counted out.

Any of these pairs could seize the moment in the short program.
However, the initial gauntlet was thrown down by none of these. Skating
early in the order was a secondtier German pair, Dagmar Lachen and Johann
Schusster. They came out and laid down an absolutely flawless short
program. With all of the big guns yet to come, their marks were a little
lower than might have been expectedbut the top teams were going to have to
be excellent. The room was there, but the Germans had set a high standard.

The Chinese couldn't meet it. The problems from the Grand Prix
reasserted themselves, and Yin and Li found themselves well behind the
Germans. The next of the precontest contenders to skate were the
Russians. They were good, but had a few minor flaws. They defeated the
Chinese handily, but were behind the Germans.

The final group contained the Big Three. Andrea and Brett were the
first to go, and they nailed everything in their program. Skating with
verve and flair, they went to first place on every judge's card. The next
up were the Canadians, under extreme pressure for being the home country's
best gold medal hope in figure skating. They responded to it wellexcept
for one flaw. Denis twofooted the landing on their side by side triple
toes. Minor, but since Andrea and Brett had skated perfectly, it was
enough to put them in second.

Then came the Czechs, on a roll after their Grand Prix win. And they
were wonderful. As flawless and Andrea and Brett, with a style all their
own. It was as close as it gets, a 54 split, but they moved into first
place. Andrea and Brett were in second and the Canadians in third. The
Russians and Germans, fourth and fifth, would join the top three in the
final group for the free skate, two days hence.

Sunday, Sophia and Warren gathered Betsy up and headed to the same place
they had found themselves four years beforethe ski slope, for the men's
downhill.

And, to their delight, they found themselves again in the midst of a
bunch of Austrians.

They had kept in contact with their old friends Otto and Wilhelm, and
were pleased to find them here. "The last time we talked, you weren't sure
if you were going to make it," Sophia told them.

"Right. Well, it's harder, going to Canada instead of Switzerland. It
costs more. So, we decided to make this the family vacation for this
year," Otto told them, smiling. He introduced Sophia and Warren to his
wife, and Wilhelm introduced his. All four fawned over Betsy.

"So, Gerhard Weichenbauer retired," Warren said, "so I suppose this is
the Ingo Buell fan club now?"

"Got that right," Otto said. "It's gonna be a battle between him and
your American guy, Alan Zimmer. They've been trading the World Cup
Downhill championship back and forth since the last Olympics."

"Yep, I know. Go Alan!" Warren joked.

They chatted easily as the first couple of skiers came down the slope.
Then it was Ingo Buell's turn. He skied impressively, and easily went into
first place, to the delight of the Austrian contingent.

Three skiers later, Alan Zimmer roared down the slope. At the first
checkpoint, he was very close to Buell's time. At the second checkpoint,
he was even closer. He came flying down the final stretch, and crossed the
finish line. Everyone looked up at the clock, and then it flashed: he'd
defeated Buell by half a second. The large American contingent, including
Warren and Sophia, went nuts.

"Dat guy win?" Betsy asked.

"Not yet, sweetheart, but he's in first place," Sophia told her.

"Ah, well," Otto laughed. "Can't win 'em all. Zimmer ran an excellent
race."

They kept watching. Nobody else approached Buell or Zimmer's time.
Otto, a pretty big guy, had put Betsy on his shoulders, to Betsy's delight.

The way big time skiing races go was that the top 15 skiers, based on
the year's results, were seeded. They drew lots for the first 15 places in
the order. They went first so they could ski on the freshest snow. So,
the winner of big races almost always came from skiers in that top 15.

Almost always. Warren and Sophia and their friends were chatting, when
they heard a roar drift down the hill. They looked up, and saw that the
skier on the slope was ahead of Zimmer's time at the first checkpoint, even
though he was skiing in the nineteenth slot.

They checked the scoreboard, and saw that it was Ed Lazlo, who was
Canadian. At the second checkpoint, he was still ahead. "Man, this place
is going to go berserk if he wins," Warren said. The shouting was already
building at the bottom of the hill as Lazlo came into view. He came down
the final stretch, pushed over the finish line by the shouts of his
countrymen. Everyone looked up at the scoreboardand it quickly showed
Lazlo in first place. The place just erupted; and Lazlo, a definite
underdog, was jumping up and down on his skis in delight.

Lazlo and the Canadian fans watched closely as the other skiers came
down the slope. Of course, Lazlo was also besieged by the TV folks. He
did one interview standing right in front of Warren and Sophia and their
friends, and was completely thunderstruck. "I can't believe it, I just
can't believe it," he kept telling the interviewer.

"He sounds like us, the first time we medalled at Worlds," Warren
laughed.

"Or that first silver at Nationals," Sophia laughed. She turned to the
Austrians. "He screamed so loud he punctured my eardrum."

"I remember that," Warren laughed.

After the last skier had descended the slope, the standings had held up.
Lazlo won, with Zimmer and Buell filling out the medals. As the first
Canadian gold medallist in a Canadian Olympics, Paul Lazlo became a very
popular guy.

"The Super G, on Tuesday?" Otto asked Warren and Sophie.

"We'll be here!"

The free skate for the pairs was Monday night. The Russians and Germans
were the first two in the final group. Both skated well, the Russians just
a little bit better, and they moved into the lead.

Andrea and Brett were nextand they skated an absolutely perfect
program. It all came together, and they were even better than they had been
when they had won Worlds last year. Warren and Sophie, watching from the
stands, were ecstatic.

"I love it when a program we choreographed is skated that well," Sophia
said.

"I know, it's like seeing it the way you saw it in your head," Warren
agreed.

The Czechs were up next, and the pressure got to them, just a little
bit. They didn't make any major errors, but were slow and laboring. They
were still young, and, with the pressure of leading the Olympics when they
had never even won a world medal, their youth showed. They finished behind
Brett and Andrea. That would keep them in the medals, but it would be
silver or bronze.

Last to skate were Denis and Poulin. Under a lot of pressure from the
Canadian crowd, they dealt with it. Trying to repeat as Olympic champions,
they dealt with it. From the beginning, they were strong and sure, hitting
every move perfectly.

The crowd noise was building, trying to bring them along, and they just
seemed to get stronger and stronger. Until, with about 40 seconds to go in
their program, they attempted their last tricky movea throw triple loop.
And Jenny boofed on the landing.

She didn't fallbut she was wildly out of control, her free leg swinging
frantically trying to keep her upright. Her landing leg skidded off the
edge. She finally dropped the free leg and came to an almost complete
stop. It took them a couple of seconds to get back into the flow of the
program.

That was all it took. Since Brett and Andrea had skated flawlessly,
that one mistake took the Canadians out of it. They finished second, with
the Czechs third. Brett and Andrea became the first American pairs team to
win an Olympic gold medal.

"There we go," Brett told Warren and Sophia afterwards. "We got the
firstAmericanpairs thing taken care ofso you guys have to do the
firstAmericandancers thing."

"Damn right," Warren said.

"American sweep! American sweep!" Sophia chanted, laughing.

"Let's not count our chickens," Tom Bellamy, who was there, interjected.
"There's this little obstacle known as Lavrenti Bladanikov to worry about."

"You beat him at the Grand Prix," Warren pointed out.

"Fluke, complete fluke," Tom laughed.

"No way. Mark my words," Warren argued. "You're going to beat him."

"Well, we'll find out, starting tomorrow," Tom said.

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The Process of Inspiration {Redman} {MF cons}
November 2000

Before I close my email client for the night, I
looked lovingly at the last file received. It's a
story from her, the woman that inspires me. My email
muse.

It's a VERY erotic story, filled with lust and
passion. I'm tired. But sleepy? Not any more!

In our bedroom, my wife Marj lies curled like a
innocent, naked as Eve. She should know better than
to present her nether regions toward me so invitingly.
On the best of nights, she's hard for me to resist.
Tonight, it's impossible!

I silently disrobe and slide into bed. From the light
streaming through the door, I look upon my love's
lovelies. I think about that email, comparing what
my muse wrote and what I see before me.

My fingers rise obsessively to touch the two flowers
I see. One is a delicate dewlily that I spread and open
slightly with my petting. The other, a wrinkled bud
that shies away from my caress. I lean forward,
tasting both lightly with the tip of my tongue.

Marj moans and rolls, ending on her back, legs akimbo.
A dream induced invitation? If so, I accepted.

My tongue begins lapping at her lily, stirring the
moist dew from its depths. My tongue's vigor awakens
Marj. Still halfasleep, she reaches for my head,
dragging me forward by my ears. Typical Marj, always
horny, even while appearing virtuous in repose.

Awake now, Marj casts subtlety aside. When Marj gets
excited, she's no delicate lily. She's only cunt.
Raw, greedy cunt! She wants what I want. She needs
what I need!

Her urgency soon exceeds mine, without even the
assistance of email. Her hips come to life.
Slowly at first, then more emphatic. My face becomes
her scratching post. Pussy rubs against my lips,
it nibbles my nose. It's a voracious, hungry beast.
As I fuck it with my tongue, it fucks me back.

Then Marj insistently pulls me upward by my ears.
Her itch has gone deeper than my tongue can reach.
Our groans harmonize as my thick cock begins to
scratch it.

Forget finesse! Now there was only the vigorous,
headlong fuck toward oblivion. Over and over,
I hammer her. I cling to Marj, the willing receptacle
of our sexual savagery.

I think about that email. Digital dick! Password
protected pussy! Input! Output! Cock! Cunt! Binary Code!
A slick Silicon Valley of sex and sperm, of infidelity
and adultery!

My muse sings over my ISP connection. My wife's cunt
bellows a bawdier tune. Together, they inspire a fresh
eruption of creativity in me. It comes bubbling,
boiling, roaring through my brain and through my cock,
deluging my cerebellum and Marj's cervix equally with
hot fertile seed!

As I roll off of Marj, exhausted, she purrs contentedly.
Her fingertips stroke my forehead to the rhythm of the
aftershocks tingling her cunt.

"You must have gotten another email tonight!" said my
omniscient Marj.

"You guessed, eh? Enjoy it, love?"

"It was yummy! I hope she writes again tomorrow!"