2006 World La Crosse

Just what happened when Chloe found Clark in Metropolis on Red K?
She was grinning at him as she stroked her hand along his shaft under his pants. His dark eyes barely acknowledged her, but they were in a car worth several hundred thousand dollars, and she didn’t really care. Kal barely glanced at her.
They were driving through the streets of Metropolis like mad, the thousand dollar tyres screeching in protest as Kal slammed the car into high gear. The brunette was panting beside him as her fingers began to work away at the zip of his jeans.
Kal gave a smile that chilled her bones, but his pockets were stuffed with folded hundred dollar notes, so none of that really mattered. Her neon fingernails worked inside his open zip and gripped his thick length. The woman’s eyes widened and she looked at Kal, who smirked without turning.
She bent down and began to suck him to full hardness, and Kal dropped one hand onto the back of her head, egging her on. The sensations were pleasant, as she began to suck harder and harder, feeling the hot meat in her mouth. Kal could feel her tongue moving up and down just under the head, rubbing him roughly.
There was a sudden flash of feeling as her tongue stud scraped across, and Kal smiled to himself. He pulled the car up in front of the club, and tapped her head. He grinned at the bouncer on front, who laughed and gave him the thumbs up as the brunette in his car tucked him away back into his pants and bounced out of the car, wiping her chin to the bouncer.
They got through without a fuss, as Kal gave the bouncers a green handshake of yet more $100 bills. The brunette’s eyes were glazing over as he made his way to the bar and ordered himself a drink. His dark eyes flashed in the dark club, and he took a deep breath, settling into a bleak, uncaring mood.
Kal leant far over the bar, staring into his drink. The inconsequential woman by his side chatted away at him, like a hummingbird, though far less pretty. His cruel sneer twisted further. Pretty was not something he knew much about, and cared for even less. Kal felt the burn of the whisky sliding down his throat.
He could hear them all, all in the room, nearly two hundred people. The nightclub, whichever one it was, was packed with people tonight. Kal stared around at the humans in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar.
They were such a weak people, he thought. Strength was something he believed in, he felt. Strength of character was nothing. Strength of arms and the will to smash them through your restrictions was what Kal had lived and breathed for four weeks now.
He took another sip, and his school ring flashed in the strobe lights. Kal’s eyes narrowed. Not his ring. It wasn’t just Clark’s ring, to Kal. To him, it was freedom, control. Who was there on this earth that could challenge the unweakened might of Krypton’s last son?
He turned as the brunette stopped chatting and put her hand on his chest. Kal gave her some perfunctory affection. She frowned and her fingertips spread out over his chest. His scar burnt slightly, not like when he’d gotten it, but mild, sullen warmth. He felt uneasy tonight, and needed some air.
Kal looked at the woman and shook his head. She had no strength, no substance. She had nothing. “Why don’t you catch a taxi home?” The girl looked at him and frowned.
“What?” Kal shrugged out of her grip and turned back towards the bar.
“Go home.” The woman scoffed, then grabbed her handbag.
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” Kal’s glass shattered as he clenched his fist, but nobody noticed in the intensity of the club. Kal felt his eyes burning, until something screamed in frustration inside of him, and the fire died as the blonde stalked off. Kal closed his eyes and sighed.
There was a whisper of a scent, and Kal sat up as something inside of him stirred. “Chloe…” Clark’s soul roused himself suddenly, and Kal whipped around, staring out towards the myriad of faces passing through the room before him. The room was covered in blondes, some real, most not, but none of them were…
“CHLOE!!!!” Clark’s voice screamed inside of Kal’s head, and Kal gave a sharp cry. He stumbled to the door and made his way past a throng of people, and lurched towards his bike. The scar on his chest burnt, and he gritted his teeth against the pain, and clenched his fist. The red kryptonite ring winked in the Metropolis night.
A shadowy figure with blonde hair stared as Kal rode off, then gave a sharp whistle and jumped into the answering cab.
Kal rode swiftly through the streets and made his way to his apartment. Built on the spoils of fun, his apartment had everything he needed. To be far away from anything. And clothing, and a bed. He sighed as he shut the door, but didn’t bother locking it. He was Kal. He could take what he wanted should anything be stolen.
There was a sudden scent in the room, gentle and tantalisingly familiar, and Kal turned. Chloe stood in the doorway, staring at him. “Clark…” She breathed his name like he was God and Kal liked the feeling. But not the label.
“Clark’s gone. He was weak. I’m Kal now. What are you doing here, Chloe?” Chloe flinched at the flat harshness of his tone, and stepped closer to him.
“Clark, the… what happened? Your parents are worried sick, Lana’s a complete mess, and as for me…?” Her dark eyes shined in the dark apartment. Kal shook his head.
“Doesn’t matter to me now. I know that they’re better off. Besides, they never wanted me anyway. Da-Jonathon blamed me for losing my little brother. Not that he was. Or sister. Either way, gone now, and Jonathon blamed me. Like I could have helped or something.” Chloe stared at him with anger in her eyes.
“Goddamn it, Clark, what’s wrong with you? I know you’re in there somewhere…” She reached her hand out, and Kal scoffed and shrugged it off. Chloe stared at him as though he’d burned her, and stepped back out towards the door.
Kal swaggered the few steps between them, and leant in close. “C’mon, Chloe. We both know you’re glad you got me alone. Admit it.” He lifted his hand to her chin, and her eyes closed. Kal smiled, and leant back. Then he frowned, as something hot and sharp moved inside of him.
“Uh…you… get out of here, Chloe. If you ever tell anyone, I swear, I’ll disappear off the face of this planet, like you’ll never…” Kal frowned as Clark’s soul surged inside of him, and he blinked and fell to one knee as light exploded before his eyes. He heard Chloe’s steps back towards the door, and gasped as his scar burned, not like before, but from within.
*********
“You’re weak, Clark. These people make you weak. Look at you.”
“You’re not in control, “Kal”. You’re here because…”
“Because these people made you so weak, that you had to run away. You can’t deal with them, so you hide behind the fiction of the ring. The red kryptonite. I’m who you want to be, Clark. For the last month, you’ve BEEN me. Now one visit, and there’s a chink in your shining armour.”
“Get out of my head.”
“You’re an idiot, Clark. I’m not in your head. I’m your soul, your true soul, and you know it. That’s why you accepted me so readily when you slipped on the ring.”
“I accepted you because I thought I couldn’t handle it. I’m stronger now.”
“No. You’re me now. And I’m the stronger. I always have been. You don’t need any of them. You NEED ME. Kal is who you are, and who you want to be, and who you always wished you could be.”
“I’m Clark Kent. And my friends believe in ME.”
*********
Clark opened his eyes and stared down at the ring. His hands shook as he pulled it off, then looked up. Chloe had turned away from him, her hand on the door handle. “Chloe…” Clark’s strangled voice stopped her short, and she turned around. He slowly pushed his right hand forwards, and Chloe stared at him as he opened his hands and the ring dropped to the ground with a metallic ping.
Clark’s hands opened wide, and turned around, palms out as he looked at her. Chloe stared at him as he raised his arms, offering himself to her. Chloe’s lips twisted into a crooked grin, and she leapt at him. She pulled him close to her and hugged him tightly.
“Clark?” Clark didn’t answer, but his arms tightened around her, and felt him shaking. She held him like that for an eternity of heartbeats, and then she leant back as she stared at him. For the first time since she’d known him, Clark was crying.
After a while, he stood up, and opened his eyes. Chloe watched him as he stepped back and collapsed onto the couch. His green eyes stared at her, and she felt that familiar rush at his eyes on her. “Clark. What’s going on?” Clark didn’t meet her eyes, but stared at the ring on the floor. Chloe glanced at it, and then went and sat down beside him.
Clark shook his head. “I know that we had rocky ground before I left. It’s one of the reasons I did leave. But I’ve barely spoken to anyone real since I left Smallville.” Chloe blinked.
“Wow. You mean anyone really?” Clark shook his head and jerked his head towards the ring.
“Chloe. You’re… you’re so…important to… me. I need to talk to someone I… trust. And um…” Chloe leant over and ran her fingertips down the side of his face. His blue-green eyes slid into hers and she saw nothing but anguish and heartache there.
“Ssh,” she breathed, leaning in closer and holding his face with both her hands. “It’s okay, Clark. You can tell me anything.” Clark nodded, and then his old smile came for an instant, and Chloe felt her heart beginning to pound. She couldn’t believe how amazing it felt to have him smile at her.
“God, it’s going to be so good. I’m so sick of all the lying and covering up. I’ve missed you so much.” Chloe moved her hands down to rest on his chest, and gasped as she felt thick lines of scar tissue there. She stared at him and softened against his body on the couch.
“It’s the red meteor rocks, Chloe. They make me… not myself. Like…” Clark stared out the window and shook his head softly. “You know how the green meteor rocks affect people, right?” Chloe flashed him her crooked grin, and ducked her head.
“You’re talking to the creator of the Wall of Weird.” Clark grinned and she felt his hand slide over hers on his chest. Chloe’s heart started to beat faster.
“The red meteor rocks affect people too. It’s like I’m someone else. Me, but… someone who doesn’t care what I do.” Chloe nodded, almost unsurprised. Clark glanced at her, and she shrugged, then tossed her hair out of her eyes.
“I believe you. It’s not as if the green meteor rocks have been keeping a low profile. I guess this one has, though. So, whenever you’ve been…” Chloe moved her hand, making a weird gesture, and Clark frowned. “Un-Clarky. It’s been this stuff?”
Clark looked down at himself and smiled, and Chloe felt her heart turn over in her chest. “Un-Clarky, huh? I think I’ve really missed those little things from you, Chloe.” His chest gave a lurch as he sobbed for a breath. “God I’ve just missed you so much, Chloe, I’m so sorry about what…”
Chloe gave a short laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She could feel her hand beginning to shake under his, and Clark looked at her, his deep green eyes searching hers.
“M-missed? Me? You um… you missed me?” Clark slowly smiled, and Chloe stared at him longingly. Clark’s hands moved off of hers and up to cradle her face. Chloe’s lips parted and Clark sat up towards her.
“Uh…um…I…” Clark brought his mouth up to Chloe’s and kissed her tenderly. The kiss was tentative and gentle, and Chloe felt something erupting inside of her. Her eyes felt hot and prickly, and she pulled away and covered her lips with her fingertips. Clark opened his eyes and blinked.
He stared at her and slowly lifted his hands off of her face. “What…?” Chloe shook her head and took a deep breath.
“It’s nothing, um…” She gave her head a little toss, moving the bangs out the way. “Look, I think you’re just upset, you know. You um… you’ve been away for a while, not yourself, and you needed…” Clark stood up.
“You’re not a default, Chloe. And I can get what I need from…” Chloe’s face turned to stone, and she stood up, too.
“From Lana.” Chloe began to weep, and Clark knew that it was his fault. “You can get what you need from Lana, any time you like. I’m just here, so…” Clark grabbed her and hugged her to him, and Chloe’s eyes closed as she hugged him back.
“This is Metropolis, Chloe. Girls are here in the billions. None of them real. But they’re here. And it’s not what I want, it’s…” Chloe shrugged against him, and sniffed.
“I understand, Clark, I do. We’ve always been better off being friends anyway. It’s ok.” Clark held her out at arm’s length, and then tilted her chin up towards him. A small smile came and went as he once again realised how short she was; she’d always seemed gigantic in his mind’s eye.
“No, Chloe, you’re wrong. I do need you. You…” Chloe’s eyes closed, and her crooked grin slid across her face as a tear slid down her cheek.
“Yeah, well you didn’t exactly have me at “hello”, so don’t even bother with “complete me.”" Clark’s hand spread over her chin and slid up to cup her face again. Chloe’s heart skipped a beat when she realised he was shaking.
“You let Clark Kent be Clark Kent. And no one’s let me do that for a lifetime. Not even Lana.” Chloe sobbed and nuzzled her cheek into his palm. She lifted her hands and held his in her tiny grip.
“Oh, Clark. Come home, now, with me. Your parents really are worried sick.” Clark’s arms enveloped her again, and Chloe sighed and began to cry. Clark sighed and breathed in the scent of her hair, the scent that he’d recognised in the club, and the scent that had brought him back to his senses.
He could almost feel Kal sullenly watching from deep within him. Chloe so near and so vulnerable made Clark feel strong though, she gave him the strength that he really needed. He’d been hiding in Kal ever since he put the ring on.
Over Chloe’s thin shoulders, Clark stared at the ring on the floor, and deep inside of him, Kal stirred again, rising, wanting to be free again, to stop the pain. Chloe’s tiny arms slid up around Clark’s neck and pulled him down to her. Clark closed his eyes as he leant in and kissed her again.
This time, no tears rolled down her cheeks, and nothing caved in. Clark smiled against her lips as he picked her up and made his way back to his bed. The sheets were silver, and silk, and the mattress was soft underneath them. Clark laid Chloe down onto the bed slowly.
Chloe bit her bottom lip gently, and Clark began to laugh softly. He reached up and touched his fingertips to her lips, and Chloe closed her eyes. “I love that. Your little smile, where you bite your lip. It’s so adorable.” Chloe opened her eyes again, and they sparkled at him.
“Adorable?” she scoffed quietly as he pulled himself over her. Her fingers spread out over his chest again as she began to undo the buttons of his shirt. “I-I, you know, uh… dammit.” Her eyes teared up again as Clark kissed her softly.
His shirt fell off his back, and Clark arched his hips up against her as he slipped his pants off. He wasn’t wearing any boxers, and Chloe’s eyes went wide as she felt him against her. Clark’s arms slunk around her and tightened her against him as he pulled her shirt off with his other hand.
Chloe kicked her pants away from her and lay beneath Clark self-consciously as he stared into her eyes. A small smile came and went on his face as he reached up to switch the light off. The lights of the city didn’t leave them in complete darkness, but the harsh bright light was gone.
Chloe sighed happily and Clark kissed his way down her shoulder. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, Chloe.” She didn’t answer, just shrugged and gasped as he caught her breast in his mouth.
“I’m just…oh…my god, Clark…I’m just not…Lana…” Clark let go of her breast and straightened, his hands snaking around her waist again, holding her tiny frame against him.
“Hey.” She didn’t look at him, and he nuzzled his cheek against her turned chin, and stared at her as she uncertainly met his gaze. “I’m here with you. Not with Lana. I’m here with you.” Tears began in her eyes again, and she surged up, opening her mouth and taking him with her as she rolled over on top of him.
She bit her lip as she ran her hands down his chest, but frowned and lost her smile as she felt the ridges of his scar. One hand went up to her mouth as she leant over, tracing it with her fingers. Clark grew still beneath her, and Chloe could hear her breathing seem very loud in the room. “Oh, Clark…”
He didn’t move, but she lowered herself and tenderly kissed him. Clark arched his hips, and Chloe could feel him pushing towards her. A sudden flash of nervousness went through her and she rolled over, bringing Clark on top of her again. “I haven’t been with anyone else since Jimmy…” she breathed to him.
Clark nodded as his hands shook, and he shrugged and feigned a smile. “I haven’t been with anyone.” Chloe’s eyes went wide, and then her smile came back. She reached down, and Clark grunted as she grabbed hold of him and began to ease him inside of her.
She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. Clark stopped pushing and gasped, and held his breath again. “I don’t want to hurt you, Chloe.” His soft whisper opened her eyes, and Chloe smiled. Her leg slid up along his hip, and she pulled him down towards her and kissed him tenderly again.
Clark smiled against her lips and pushed inside of her slowly. Chloe shook against him and sighed, holding him tightly. “Jesus…” Clark gasped as Chloe arched up around him, and felt his cock get hot and thick inside of her. “Chloe, I’m… I think I’m…” She nodded silently and smiled at him.
“It’s okay, Clark, it happens fast the first time. C’mon, it’s okay.” She felt worldly and mature, having been through it once already. Clark was nervous, and Chloe felt for the first time powerful over him. She gently kissed at his face, and gave a low, happy laugh as she felt him shake and burst inside of her.
There was a ripping sound, and the silk sheets tore in Clark’s grip like they were tissues, and his eyes opened wide. He panted as his breath tickled her neck. Clark sagged against her and Chloe spread her arms over his massive shoulders and smiled as he kissed her neck tenderly.
He was still thick and hard inside of her, and Chloe felt a wicked thrill go through her as she clenched down onto his shaft. Clark growled low in her ear, and she felt his hips move. Chloe gasped in ecstasy as Clark began to roll his hips against her, his teeth and tongue moving over her chin and mouth. She pulled him up towards her with each roll of his hips, until the rhythm moved beyond soft into something earth shattering.
Chloe arched her chest up as Clark held himself up above her, and gave a low cry. Clark smiled to himself, and kissed at her lips again. Chloe’s nails scraped along the back of his shoulders and then slid down onto his hips.
His muscles moved under his skin as he pushed himself inside of her over and over again, and Chloe closed her eyes. All she could feel was Clark, inside of her and all over her, and it was almost worth the wait. Her mind went back to the spring dance, where he’d kissed her and danced with her and played her favourite song.
Chloe opened her eyes and stared at Clark, whose warm sea-green orbs watched her enjoying him. Chloe began to open her mouth and moan in time to his thrusts, and Clark felt her getting tighter and hotter around him. He leant down and kissed her as he sought her hands with his.
He pushed her down onto the bed with his body, feeling her wrists in the silk sheets of his bed as he held her down gently. Chloe gasped and moaned softly, and sudden her breath quickened. Clark stared at her as he felt a sudden tingle deep in his spine and Chloe began to moan louder. She arched up against him and her nails scraped against his impenetrable skin as she came.

You lock my eyes in Yours and looking at me so intensive I’m almost getting the feeling of being hypnotized. You nod significantly at my clothes and I smile softly to You, lowering my head and obedient start to remove my shirt. I let the shirt fall to the floor by my feet while I start to finger on my jeans till they end on the same place. Feel how the smile on Your face grows wider as You study me during silence. The cool air gives my naked arms goose flesh and my nipples grow harder under Your patient glace. You pat with Your hand on Your lap.
My face is shining with delight when I slide towards You and sink down in Your lap. You give me a lowing smile before You lift me up with firm hands and arrange me the way You want me in Your lap. Your hand moves up behind my neck, and I feel the thumb caressing the sensitive skin below my ear as You pull me closer to You. Open my mouth for You, shape my body after Yours and let You lead my lips to Yours. Sense rather than hear how You breath in my smell when I press my lips against Yours, and all thoughts just leave my head when You then plunder my mouth. My hands plays with the short hair in the neck, fondle with the fingertips and playfully scratch with my nails. I start to breathe harder as the kiss becomes more demanding, hands moving down over Your back and caress You in eager moves.
Feel Your thumbs playing in my neck, still with a firm grip of my head. You interrupt the kiss and i open my eyes and stare at You. Meeting Your eyes with an expression of humility in mine and looking at you both hopefully and asking. Slowly breathing out when I get confirming nod as answer, and even if the hand around my neck is still there the grasp is a now loose enough for me to go down between Your knees. I look up at You, adore what I see and get a warm smile in return while my hands starts moving over Your crotch. Concentrated I chew on my lower lip and finger on the pants to unzip the buttons.
Pull my fingers over the thighs and feel the warmth through the rough material in the jeans, then pull off the pants when You raise slightly from the chair. Lean forward to kiss Your belly; notice how the muscles gets tense and Your hand in my hair turns into a fist. You wrap a few locks of my hair around Your fingers and play absent with them. Caress captivated the outside of Your boxers, and feel the hard cock on the other side of the fabrics. Move with my thumb on one side and the index-and middle finger on each side of the shaft, playing with my fingers slowly up and down a few times to feel the masculine hardness pulse between my fingers. Hear how You gasp after air when my soft fingers keep stroking You carefully, and find my own breathing becoming more strained. I stare at the cock which depicts itself clear enough for me to project it in my head. Impatiently I start to pull in the shorts and get them off You. My eyes shine with pure excitement as I see the cock swing before me. Stick out the tip of my tongue to lick my lips, like a cat waiting for a bowl with cream.
I lift my hand and close it around the root; holding it there for a while just to feel the contact with the hot skin. Then I can’t wait any longer, but lean forward to gently kiss the top. The pre-cum already on the head spreads over my lips and makes them glossy. I press my lips against the glans, trying to control myself to not devour Your right away. Hear a dark, deep sound from Your throat, like a mix between a roar and a groan revealing how much it requires of You to control Yourself. I stick out my tongue, wet with saliva, and start licking over the glans. Feels so great to seduce You with my mouth, pleasing You and tease You. Play with the tongue over the head, licking carefully on the underside and follow the string with the tip. Continue with licking the whole shaft till its shining with my saliva, hearing Your more and more exerted breaths echoing in my head. Look up and You, submissively and pleading.
“May I?” I pray.
“Yes, you may.”
I give You a sexy smile and my hand moves down over my belly, in inside of my black panties and spread my soaking wet lips. Whimper of frustration for the arousement I’m holding back, still with my lips against Your cock.
“That’s enough.”
Look up at You a bit disappointed, but obediently removing my hand. Rub the shaft with my juices so my hand feels even smoother around Your cock, just like I know You want it. Starting to wank in slow but firm strokes, moving my right hand back and forward over the hard shaft. I can feel how You grow a little more in my hand.
“Look at Me.”
Quick as lightning I lift my eyes up to You, and You lock them with an intense glance. Feel how I almost drown in Your eyes as I with great passion continue to lick every millimeter around the glans. Patiently You mumble my name, pronouncing it the way only You can and wait till my tongue is resting still over the cock before You speak again.
“Suck.”
A smile passes over my lips and I spread them further, but not much. Increase the pressure against the head of the cock, feel how it press against my wet lips and trying to force them. Happy I look at You where you loom up in front of me while I feel the glans move its way through my lips. Stop with it in my mouth and let the tongue stimulate the underside while my eyes are looking imploring at You. You grin down at me, pull Your thumb over my cheek down to the corner of my lip and then grab behind my neck like before. Then You encourage me to suck You by urge me down on the cock.
“No.” You answer on my unspoken question and I whine disappointed, forgetting the wish to ride my own hand while I suck Your wonderful cock. I force myself to govern myself, strongly driven by my wish to please and obey You. Slowly I start moving my head forward to take You deeper, all the time with my eyes locked on You and hungry I suck in any response Your face might give me. Your hand is holding a safe grasp of my neck, without hurry me or pressure me. It is enough for both of U/us to know that its there, and that I am Yours. I force myself to breath through my nose as I suck You in deeper, while I start to move my head faster by each blow. Your almost savage sounds are making me insanely horny, and the hand around Your cock shivers with frustration. As I increase the speed my lips notice the very shape of Your cock, remember it and longing for it. My lips are tightly shut around the shaft and yours are spread in an encouraging smile. I start to take You even deeper, fighting purposeful to press myself down deeper over you. My smell, my vision and my feeling become stronger and therefore I rather sense than hear what You say when You mumble to me. The shaft is resting on my tongue as I suck You in deep, passionate moves. I enjoy the feeling of pleasing You and my power to be able to do it.
“That’s enough.” I feel Your hand in my back guide my head backwards, but my lips are locked carefully around Your cock and I let myself be pulled back infinitely slow.
The air is vibrating with tensions and despite the coolness I feel warm inside when You smile at me.
“You are so beautiful when you look at me with that trustful smile.
The grip becomes a little bit harder and You lead my to Your tensed mouth. I smile with my lips against Yours, breathing with hot air over Your lips.
“You make me beautiful.” I lean forward to give myself to You, and kiss You deep; suck in the tongue in my mouth and playing almost aggressively with it. Lift my arms and place them around Your neck, leaning towards You. Your hands moves over my back and up over my sides till the cup around the breasts pressing against the thin lace material in my bra. Grumble impatiently and squirm in Your arms, rubbing my body against You and looking up at You, feeling restless.
‘Easy now. We will have time.” Feel the hands caress their way from my breasts to the back and smoothly open the lock of my bra. The bands slide down from my shoulders and You tear off the bra, an contradiction to Your calm voice. Your hands moves back to my breasts and You lift them, start to massage them roughly. I groan and my lower lip shivers in Your mouth when You roll the nipples between Your fingers till the are hard like little diamonds. I look at You with my eyes almost begging, I’m so horny it almost hurts and the blood in my head is pulsing. Cant do much but whimper frustrated when I see Your almost diabolic smile, knowing well what it means. My inner is screaming with happiness in the same time as it gets tense with back hold feelings.
I feel Your hands lock around my wrists and pull them away from Your neck till You have my hands almost buried in Yours. Glancing up at You a few times while I wait, licking my mouth impatiently. Letting my obedient be pulled up When You stand up; hold my body close to Yours, unwilling to leave the warmth from Your body. We move over to the sofa and I sob with happiness when You place me over Your lap, and then lift me up till I’m laying there with my ass over Your thighs and my arms leaning against the arm rest. I feel Your hand caress over the cheeks through the thin material and I’m breathing hard. Very well awarded of the dark spot on the silk I feel You grip my panties and pull them up so they cut in between my as cheeks. My entire body is shivering when Your hands moves over the skin. I lift my hips to move myself against You.
“Maybe W/we should remove them…?” You chuckle softly and it’s impossible not to notice You are playing with me. I moan dreadfully as answer, my head feeling dizzy. “Well, honey?”
“Yes, please take my panties off.”
“Do you want to be naked for Me?”
“Mm! I want You to see everything. Everything You see is Yours to have…to use…to take.”
Hear your approving by a low mumble and then start to remove my panties, doing it slowly just to torment me. Once they are off You go back to caress me and the warmth makes me shiver. After a while I start moving restless in Your lap, worried and frustrated that it never comes.
“Yes, what is it?” You ask and I can hear the smile in Your voice.
“Please, do I have to wait longer?”
“Oh? You were waiting for something? Look at Me.”
I sob and turn around to look at You over my shoulder. My cheeks have turned pink with excitement and my eyes are dark and stormy.
“PLEASE, spank me.”
You laugh and lean forward to kiss one of my as cheeks. Your smooth lips stroke over the skin and I sob again. Then You pull back a little and just a short moment after a relaxed but firm hand ends just above where the ass ends to turn into the thigh. Three slaps comes right after each other on the same place before You move Your hand a little to let a harder slap hit higher up on the cheek. Whimper with arousal, and feel the juices pour out to make my clitoris all wet and then down over Your thigh. You continue with spanking me and I adore the fact You mark my body with Your hands. The lust increase while You experienced keep on spanking me, changing between a few fast with one single slap, some of them softer and others so hard it starts burning in the skin. The differences in tempo and power makes me almost go wild and I realize I’m very close to orgasm even though You haven’t touched my cunt yet.
You read my body language and see how close I am. Therefore You let the hand rest on my ass after the finishing slap. The skin is burning under Your hand and You caress it with love and then kiss it slowly. You try to clam me down when I’m shaking, overwhelmed by feelings and You lean forward to my ear and whisper that You love me. Your approval and tenderness is almost as painfully arousing as Your hands. Let out a short scream of surprise when the cold feeling of ice spreads over my pink shining cheeks. I feel how the ice is melting and almost make my sore skin numb. The cold water is pouring down between the cheeks and over my cuntlips.

The secluded, rock enclosed little beach was a perfect retreat from the daily grind. Daphne was so very glad she had finally submitted to her secretary’s pleas for her to take some time off. Running a fast paced modeling agency was exciting and very fulfilling, but she now understood the need for some down time. This wonderful summer house in the San Juan Island chain in the northern Puget sound area was just perfect. She could just kick back, enjoy the weather, as well as the perfect seclusion created by the rocky enclaves on either side of this wonderful little beach. No one could get to this beach by land without having to come through the locked gate on the driveway.
To celebrate this perfect spot, she had been enjoying the carnal sensations of skinny dipping in the cold Sounds’ waters. So very invigorating were those blasts of cold water upon her body. It is amazing how one can get so wrapped up in work, that the simple pleasures of the body can be so very rewarding. She loved the opposite sensations of laying on the mattressed chaise, letting the sun warm her now bronzing body. She loved laying there, letting the sun hit, caress, and harden the nipples on her exposed breasts. She loved the feeling of spreading her legs, to focus her attention on Sol’s rays hitting her exposed pussy.
The sun’s heat, mixed with her own, made for many enjoyable sessions with her lotion filled hands, spreading apart those protective lips, and letting both her fingertips and the sun’s heat attack her hungry clit, until she screamed in the throes of another orgasm.
After her last cum, she fell back into the soft chaise, and just let her mind float and wander, the way her body was. Although she loved the freedom of this seclusion, she felt a little pang, a want for some company, but a very special kind of company, without all the bull shit. With this thought, she drifted into that wonderful world of “almost” sleep…
His strong, sun browned shoulders glistened in the warm sun, with both his own sweat from digging his kayak’s paddle into the water so hard, and from the little saltwater drippuletts, that fell from the paddle with each exaggerated stroke. As he reached this new rocky cliff at the shoreline in the distance, he stopped paddling, and enjoyed the fruits of his labors, as the kayak continued gliding in the water for a bit. He felt a tug, a gentle push in his mind, which made him look up, as he rounded the end of this latest rocky reach, and saw a little beach, protected by two of the rock abutments on either side. He felt her more than saw her, for from this distance, all he could “see” was that there was a form on the beach. Picking up his pace again, he started to paddle towards the shoreline.
He saw her sleeping form as he beached his kayak softly. Climbing out of it, he walked slowly up to her, enjoying the sight of this unknowingly erotic creature. The gently rise and fall of her breasts gave away her state, so he continued his quiet approach, and drank in her lovely form as he walked. This sight had aroused him to the point, he could feel his cock stirring in his trunks. He knew they would not long be able to hold him, for his desire was building at a geometric rate.
She began to stir a bit, as she had the sensation she was no longer alone, for a dark shadow appeared which she could sense even with her eyes closed, for it blocked the sun’s rays. As she opened her eyes, she gasped out loud, at the figure before her. She could see it was a man, but with the sun behind him, she could not see much but his chiseled body outline.
“You called?” he said in a soft, yet so strong voice.
“What are you talking about? I mean…… wait! Who the Fuck are you?” she felt her anger rise at his intrusion.
“I was in my kayak, out there,” he turned his strong shoulders and pointed with his well defined arm, “and I felt you, calling me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I did nothing of the sort” said Daphne trying for that indignant superiority that worked so well for her in her negotiations at work.
“Who is being ridiculous?” he said smiling, looking into her eyes, into her soul, holding her soul as it had never been. His unnerving cold, clear blue eyes, set against that tanned face, gave her the sensation, he not only knew her desires, shared her desires, but knew how to fulfill them.
She reached out with her hand, as she continued holding his gaze, to let loose the knot at the top of his trunks. It was silly she thought, to have one of them dressed, and the other, not. She knew she was not going to cover her body, so he must shed his clothes. As she untied the string, unsnapped the snap, she pulled back on both sides of the suit, pulled it away from him, and let it drop, giving her a sigh which caused a short gasp to escape from her. But, just as she was about to move to take this beautifully engorged man into her hungry mouth, he gently pushed her back onto the chaise, spread her legs on either side of it, and began a slow, sensuous journey with his mouth and tongue, that started at her toes, and was going to end……… well, she hoped, it was not going to end.
Daphne’s hips started their own response to his oral delights. There is a lot to be said about making love in the large satined sheeted bed in her apartment, but she could not remember the sheer number of wondrous sensations being made love to on this secluded shoreline was invoking. The sound of the waves hitting the sand in their irregular pattern, mixed with the aroma of the saltwater, her suntan lotion, and now their combined musk was truly a celebration of the sensual.
She felt her passions build as his travels both teased and satisfied. Each slow movement of his mouth was a combination of fascinated discovery, and experience. His mouth tasted and savored her like a fine wine connoisseur would explore a new, highly awarded vintage. She felt herself shiver as his tongue played with her claves, then, slowly made his way behind her kneecap, playing a while in this soft valley.
At first, she wondered how he knew all her most erotic zones, but as she felt her own body moving, she realized she was telling him, and for once, someone not only knew how, but was actually listening. Oh, yes, he “heard” her, the flowing of her anticipatorial juices would be testimony to this. His tongue had now reached the highly sensitive, soft, sweet skin of her inner thigh, and his hands were now reaching higher. The contrast between her soft skin, and his calloused fingers was dramatic, yet intoxicating. She loved the sensation of his rough hands caressing her.
As his body slid up hers, she gave herself over to his hands, as the slipped underneath her buttocks, to lift her drenched mons to his mouth. She offered herself to him, with a push, and his mouth thrilled her, as devoured her. As he sat on the chaise’s edge, he lifted her legs, so she could put them around his neck, and hold her new “captive” tightly with them (although her “captive” had yet to even hint at mounting an escape).
His moans, were like purrs, deep in their beginnings, and vocal in their proclamation of his own pleasures. The closer she came to her orgasm, the tighter her legs held him to her, and the more voracious became his feeding frenzy. His tongue would lavish her with long slow strokes, starting at her anal opening, thrusting inside her pussy as deeply as it could go, then ending at her aroused and beaconous clit, only to give way to those delicious nips of his teeth. As she felt her final push start, she moaned with delight as his teeth held her clit between them, and his tongue caressed its tip with frantic precision. As her back arched, and her head tilted back to push off the chaise, she heard her own passionate song, resound off the rocks. His hands clamped on her butt, he held her there as her own waves brought her to her pinnacle. As she slowly descended from her peak, he followed her, by letting her hips follow this same descent, until, spent, he place her completely back onto the chaise.

My parents were divorced pretty early on in their marriage, which left my mother with the bulk of child rearing duties. I rebelled occasionally, of course, but mostly I was a pretty normal kid. I liked sports, putting an engine or a motor on anything, and girls. I wasn’t very successful with the opposite sex, so as a result, I spent 99% of my time scheming and dreaming. In the course of this scheming and dreaming I invited some girls to a party at my home the summer before my Senior year in high school when I was 18. My mother was to supervise, but an elderly neighbor woman whom she looked after became ill, and my mother agreed to stay the night with her. To keep an eye on things, she asked her friend Faye to come by, serve some pizza and provide adult supervision. Faye was also divorced, shapely, and a decent looking forty year old woman. She probably would have come by anyway, seeing as how she was close to my mother and enjoyed a good time. I always liked her laugh, but it was her sweet round rear that was her greatest asset, and I spent many hours worshipping it in the most sincere way a teenager knows how. I should tell you also that Faye had an “Innocent” crush on my good friend Tony, a dark, quiet type who was actually kind of shy. I’d heard his name mentioned more than once, and my mother and Faye always smirked on hearing it.
The evening began okay, and some girls actually showed up. I did about as well with them as I usually do, which means I spent a lot of time playing ping-pong. Faye served the pizza, hung out for a while with us and had a beer, then another, then left us alone. An hour or so later one of the girls had to go, then the others followed, then it was just four guys and me.
We bullshitted a bit, then two of them left, leaving Rob, a very good looking guy, Tony and me.
Tony wanted a beer, so we snuck inside to raid the fridge, but Faye appeared. Faye had apparently had another beer, because she was both stern and flirtatious with us. We grudgingly agreed to forego the beer, and settled in on the couch, talking with Faye and watching mindless television. Every so often Tony would get up and pretend to go to the bathroom, by way of the kitchen, and Faye would head him off. They were practically dancing around the kitchen with their arms on each other by the third time, however, and Faye dragged Tony back to the family room by the hand. Conversation soon got more daring, and there was talk about women, sex, who was dating who, and normal teen stuff. Faye was really enjoying it. Helped by the beer, she laughed constantly, and encouraged us to be more bold and pursue the women we lusted after. When the subject got around to kissing, each of us guys all claimed to be the best. And somehow, during her fourth beer, we got Faye to be the judge. We preceded “Scientifically”, turning the room lights down and finding a dark scarf to blindfold Faye. I don’t mind telling you that at this point I had a raging hard-on. Faye, dressed in a khaki jeans skirt and a top I can’t remember, was standing in the center of the room, blindfolded and surrounded by three guys with raging hormones. We put on the same cologne, agreed to wear the same shirt, Faye agreed not to touch us and began.
Rob went first, and he really went at it, holding Faye’s head. Faye seemed not to mind, and soon we could see they were even French-kissing. In the midst of this, Rob caressed Faye’s back lower and lower until he was almost grabbing Faye’s butt. She hardly seemed to care. After one squeal of protest, she grabbed Rob by the butt herself. They broke for air after two minutes or so, then Tony stepped in. It was a repeat performance, but Tony grabbed Faye’s ass a lot quicker and winked at us as her skirt rode higher up her ass, exposing nearly all her thighs. He and Faye pushed at each other like lovers, and there was obvious full body contact. They broke off after running out of breath, and Faye said she needed another sip of beer before continuing. We gladly provided it, helping her to finish her fourth can by holding the can to her lips, but not removing it until it was empty. Faye wobbled a moment unsteadily then I took my place and helped steady her.
Unbelievably, this woman who was always so adult and above me, now put her arms around me. I grabbed her soft body and held her to mine, running one hand through her hair and the other across her back and ass. When I met no resistance, both my hands dropped to cup her rear and pull her against me tightly. Our tongues went around and around, then we alternated sucking each other’s tongue and lips until we got a signal to stop. Faye practically fell over when we stopped, so I slipped behind her and held her while we loudly debated results. Faye leaned against me and I put my arms around her waist, which meant my stiff dick was forced up against her backside, but she made no complaint. In fact, she agreed to another round of “Tests” if someone got her a different scarf that wasn’t wool and hot. I handed her over to Rob and raced for a different scarf from my mother’s closet.
Faye put the second scarf on and gamely started a new round, but she was so unsteady on her feet now that she and Rob soon dropped to their knees, then the floor. The two rolled around, mauling each other between breaths for several minutes. When they stopped Faye asked if the lights were out, and we lied and said “Yes”. Faye said something about this being “work”, but then added that it was nice work if you could get it. I laughed and took my place on the floor beside her.
My second round began almost leisurely, but then I pulled Faye on top of me. She didn’t miss a beat. We continued our kissing while my hands caressed her butt and pulled her skirt so high that I felt bare skin and the edge of her panties. With the fervor of a madman, I skipped my hand across that pantie-covered ass and pulled her tight against me. There was no resistance! One of my mother’s close friends was letting me touch her! I was in heaven. My kisses were secondary now, and I slipped my hand beneath Faye’s panties and felt her hot cheeks. That caused a shift in Faye’s position, which made it hard to hold her ass, so I stopped kissing and got up.
Faye asked for a glass of water before continuing, which we quickly provided. After finishing the water she asked us again about the lights. We lied again. She also made us promise to keep this “Contest” to ouselves, which we agreed to, of course. Then Faye called for “Contestant Number Three”.
I think she knew it was Tony, and this time was pure passion. Tony had Faye on her back and one hand up under her blouse in about twenty seconds, and pulled up her skirt with the other hand. Rob and I looked at each other with eyes wide and silently took up positions close by. Amazed, we watched and listened as the groaning couple mauled each other. Rob strained to get a look at Faye’s breasts. I scooted around on the floor until I had a perfectly breathtaking view of pinkish middle-aged panty crotch tightly pulled against a full mound. I held my breath at this incredible visual treat, silently cheering as each flop of her knee separated her legs to expose more panty-covered pussy, then sighing in disappointment as they closed.
Rob joined me on the floor a moment later, silently whistling at the sight of this middle-aged woman’s exposed crotch. Minutes passed while she and Tony got more passionate. It was obvious the contest was over, but what now?
Rob and I took matters into our own hands and began rubbing the nearest foot. Faye jumped for a second, then moaned in ecstasy as two hands massaged each foot. Being teenagers, we didn’t spend long on the feet, and soon began working our way up Faye’s legs. In a few short minutes we were massaging soft forty-two year-old thigh so close together that we had to take turns. Meanwhile, Tony had shifted position and was straddling Faye lightly. I heard a zipper and froze in shock as Tony seemed to pull out his dick. Unbelieving, I watched as his butt shifted and he apparently reached down to put his penis within reach of Faye’s mouth. This was too much. It COULDN’T be happening. I was stunned, so stunned I actually shook my head like they do in books to clear the cobwebs of whatever. Nothing changed, though, except the wet sounds of oral sex.
Rob and I went for broke now, using our fingertips to tease Faye through her panties. Neither one of us was immediately so bold as to reach inside and stroke wet pussy, so we traced the slot between her folds and rubbed Faye at different speeds in different ways. Faye strained and shook, but with each of us on a leg, there wasn’t much she could do. She wasn’t trying to buck us off anyway. At least I don’t think she was. She was just crazed with lust.
I couldn’t hold back for long, though. I crooked a finger beneath the legband of her panties and slowly reached in. I felt wet pubic hair first, then a half inch later found some incredibly slippery and warm labia. Where her labia ended and her pussy began was a mystery to me, I just caressed anything that was soft. Then Rob and I each tugged on Faye’s panties and quickly took them down her legs and off. An odor of sweet womanhood greeted us, me for only the second time in my life. Rob beat me to the punch and had a finger in Faye’s pussy before I could toss Faye’s damp panties aside. He had Faye bucking wildly in seconds, and within a minute she came, rising up on her knees, moaning and gasping in blissful agony. Tony turned and gave us a thumbs up with a big smile.
I wasn’t sure what to do next, but I didn’t want to relinquish my place or my hold on a nude woman, so I returned to massaging thigh and pussy, then began licking Faye’s inner thighs.
My only experience with oral sex was all too brief, so I figured to make this experience last a little longer. My real target was Faye’s pussy and I quickly found it. I kissed and slurped and sucked everything that was wet and feminine. Faye moaned, then Tony moaned, then Rob gave me a thumbs up himself and retreated. It wasn’t very comfortable, but I was so intently focused on my tangy target that I hardly gave it a thought. Soon my labors had the desired effect. Faye’s legs shook and she made a series of delirious noises before spasm after spasm made her body alternately rigid and liquid.
Was that ever fun! I wasn’t sure what to do next, and I didn’t know what to say to anyone, so I went to the bathroom and completed my own orgasm. My sperm rocketed out my stiffened dick and landed on the wall above the sink. More sperm streamed into the sink, then still more dribbled out on the cold white marble. I took a few breaths and stared at myself in the mirror. Wow!
Who was I now? Was I any different than I was a few hours ago? Older? More mature? More manly? All that and more, I concluded, lifting my head for the most flattering angle and staring back at the grinning face before me in the mirror.
Amazingly, there were no real repercussions to this wild indiscretion. Faye and Mom remain friends to this day. I had to listen to some remorseful and slightly accusatory words from Faye a couple days later, but that was nothing. I deserved them. Far worse for me was her refusal to even flirt with me when we were alone in the following years. My ego wanted more. I wanted to sink my manhood between those sweet and tasty pussy lips. It never happened. Anyway, we converted the house into a duplex and mom has her own side now–the new one. I still have the old side, and a room with a great memory.

This story is set in the Soviet Union, beginning in the Communist era, when two women tourists decide to ignore the rules on export of restricted items. There are consequences for both, for one humiliating and the other highly inconvenient.
The story involves a sequel, when there is a return to scene at a later time.
* * * * *
Chapter 1
Alone at Last
Irma Bradley and her friend and companion Helen Murzac stood at the entrance to the modest hotel they had occupied with their tour group for the last several days. They were waving farewell to the others of the group with whom they had been touring the Soviet Union for the past two weeks. The time was 1983, the place a town not far from Kiev in the Ukraine. Irma and Helen had long looked forward to this tour of the communist empire, and now it was coming to a conclusion. This was to be their last stop, but Irma, ever the adventurer, had persuaded Helen to arrange with her that the two of them might remain for two extra days after the group left; a time, Irma had insisted, would allow them to taste a bit of the country without the supervision of the tour guide and enable them to taste the ‘real’ Soviet nation - also a time to do a bit of prowling and shopping of the type that would make them the envy of others when they returned to their homes in the USA.
As the bus carrying their former companions pulled away, Irma turned to her friend. “Now it’s just the two us for two days. We get our chance to pick up the things we want to bring home - and not from the shops the guides steer us to! And we can roam around by ourselves, talk to whom we wish, and in two days we go home with an experience that wasn’t on the official list!”
Helen smiled back. To be sure, Helen was a bit less adventuresome than Irma. She liked to poke around in strange places and pick up interesting bits of artwork or artifacts, but she was a bit more conventional than Irma. Helen would prefer to do her shopping in stores or museum shops, while Irma loved to hunt up street merchants, always looking for a bargain or something that couldn’t be found in the conventional places.
Both women were single, fairly independent, and educated. Irma was thirty eight, a real estate salesperson accustomed to negotiations and completely at home with the bargaining process. She liked people and had no fear of anyone she might meet. From long experience she understood posturing and the processes of deception people often used; yet she inherently liked people and felt she could deal with such strategies. Irma, a schoolteacher, was a bit more of a conformist in her habits. She could be open and friendly with her students, yet she had a private side that she seldom revealed. She liked her privacy, enjoyed watching others get into adventures she would prefer to avoid, as she might watch that activity in her students, yet enjoyed intellectual exploration of the cultures and varied people she encountered.
Irma wasted no time. “Remember that man on the street corner who asked us about changing dollars? He offered an awfully good rate - twice what the banks would give!”
“The one our guide said to ignore? Because it was illegal?”
“So she said. What she really meant was that he didn’t give her a cut! If we’re going on a shopping spree, we need a supply of rubles. Let’s go!”
The two women wandered back along the street, looking for a familiar corner. After a time they found it. They stood, looking around. Before long a rather plain looking man approached them. He was wearing an old coat, his head covered in a gray woolen cap, fairly appropriate to the changeable fall weather. “Ah, my American ladies!” he greeted them in rather good English. “I hope you are having good time in our country! We like our friends!” He went on, complimenting them on their dress, their hair styles, their smiles. Irma cut him short. “Yesterday - you offered a good rate on money exchanges - are you still in the business?”
The man suddenly became quiet. He looked about carefully, then motioned them to come into a sheltered doorway.
“In my business, it is good not to be too noisy. I have many competitors - they would not like to know what good rates I can offer - I like to do business with Americans, but some of the others are not so understanding. If they hear the good offers I make for you, they make things hard for me. You understand?”
Irma nodded. Helen looked on, a bit suspicious. He went on “How much you want to change? I make very good price - but, you understand, I cannot let others know what I do for you - so it just between us? So?”
Before long, a deal was struck. Several hundred dollars changed hands, and Irma and Helen moved away, purses stuffed with wads of rubles.
Irma smiled to Helen. “See why the guide didn’t want us dealing with him? She probably gets a cut from all the places she takes us to, and this guy wouldn’t be cutting her in. So we got a good deal! Now, where would you like to go first?”
Helen’s taste went to small pieces of jewelry, and a bit of hand made skirts and blouses; things she would use as gifts to her close friends. They browsed a bit through street stalls and small stores.
Irma had more exotic tastes. She inquired at one small store, “I hear there are old pictures - religious icons - for sale. I’m interested in old art - could you guide me?” At first she got shakes of the head, or comments indicating her English was not understood, but Irma was insistent. She had a brochure describing old artwork sometimes found among merchants selling antiques, and she used the pictures to help with her inquiries.
Helen was less than enthused. “Even if you find any of the icons, you know you can’t take them out of the country if they’re over a hundred years old - it’s not allowed, as the guides told us!”
“So who’s to know the birthdates? Old art doesn’t come with date of manufacture - that’s what makes it interesting. I was told we’d find some old icons if we looked far enough. Oh, I’d love some of that - something of old Russia, from the Czarist times - or older!”
They continued looking, until a shopkeeper showed signs of interest. “Pictures? Old pictures? The old churches - they tear down - some make into museums - sometimes, sometimes, people sell pictures from old churches. Such is you want?” Irma’s interest was immediately aroused.
Both of them were ushered into a small back room. A large chest was opened, and from it the shopkeeper withdrew several framed pictures, obviously quite old. Irma’s eyes brightened at the site. This might be what she was looking for.
A number of old pictures, obviously church icons, were spread before her. The shopkeeper offered comments in broken English “old - sixteen, fifteen century - from old church - very rare- you want?” Then he added, “Old book - too?” Her interest was piqued. She nodded.
After some further search, a very old book was produced, illustrated with several hand painted pictures. She failed to connect with the text, all in Russian, or perhaps Ukrainian, but the pictures cleared showed her it was a religious text, and probably at least two centuries old.
Irma employed her negotiating powers. She played the pictures against the book, seemingly debating which was her real interest. After a time, she finally had a bargain - the book and four small icons. She smiled as she paid out the cash, thinking how these would appear as rare finds in her home. All, she noted, were small enough to fit in her suitcase.
The shopkeeper offered no receipt, no papers. The deal was closed. The purchases were wrapped in a nondescript cloth and given to Irma. The two women left the shop, pleased their shopping expedition had yielded such quick results.
The next day was largely Helen’s. Her tastes were less exotic, but resulted in more bulky purchases. At the end of the day, they retired to their room to prepare for their impending departure.
Irma had thought it best to place the icons in the bottom of her suitcase, wrapped in articles of her apparel. Helen was unconcerned about her purchases, and packed most of them in a carton she had acquired along the way. They had a late late dinner, and retired early.
The day of their departure began. They breakfasted, and had arranged a car to transport them to the airport. The driver arrived on time, and they were off, anticipating a long day returning home. They would not be disappointed.
On arrival at the airport, they checked in for their flight. After receiving their boarding cards, they were ushered into a room where passports and customs papers were checked. Baggage, tagged for their flight, was still in their care until it was cleared by the customs officials.
The two approached the customs counter. They were directed to place their bags on the counter and unlock them. Two customs officers carefully looked over their currency and baggage declarations, and passports.
One official tapped on Helen’s box. He indicated she was to open it, which she did. She stood as he carefully went through the contents, carefully looking at the pieces of clothing and jewelry she had purchased. Helen was a bit irritated as she saw her careful packing being disrupted by the rummaging hands of the official, as he withdrew item after item and looked it over. Finally, he seemed satisfied. With a nod of his head, he motioned for her to close it up. With a shrug she bent to the task of restoring order to her carefully packed carton.
Next was Irma’s suitcase. Again, items were withdraw and examined. The officials seemed disinterested in conversation, or couldn’t communicate in English. With sour expressions, they explored the contents of the luggage. At length an article was withdrawn, Irma’s slacks, worn and unwashed, wrapped around one of the icons. The official carefully unwound the slacks. He withdrew the icon. His face brightened as he drew it out and held it up to the light.
The other official stopped what he was doing and turned to see the find. Together they inspected the icon. With an expression of disapproval, the customs officer looked directly at Irma. “Nyet!” he said, clearly, followed by a string of words in Russian which Irma could not decipher.
They burrowed further into her suitcase. One official looked over the customs papers she had completed, and pointed to it in a quizzical way. Their voices became animated. Irma sensed there was a problem.
“I just bought that - I didn’t know there would be a problem with it! I’m sorry - can I leave it?”
The official clearly did not understand. Then he found a second icon. He voice rose as he spoke to Irma. She flushed.
One of the customs officers disappeared into another room. It was indicated that Irma should wait. Helen, her own inspection completed, stood beside her.
“What are they going to do?” Helen asked. “I think maybe you should have declared the icons! They seem upset about them!”
“If I had put them on the paper, they wouldn’t have let us take them out. They don’t know where we got them. They don’t know whether they are fakes or not - these men aren’t art experts! Just wait - everything’s going to be all right!”
The customs officer returned with a man they had not seen before. He addressed Irma. “Deutsch? Francaise? Italiano?”
“English! We’re American - as you can see from our passports!”
The newcomer nodded slowly. “English. We will try. You … together?” he indicated the two of them.
“Yes”, they agreed, in unison.
He picked up the two icons, one in each hand. “Not allowed. Not on form. Who? Which one?”
Irma indicated herself. “They are mine. I bought them!”
“More?” asked the official. “No - just me!” Irma responded, evidently misunderstanding the question.
“Purse”, he said. indicating Irma. She handed over her purse. The official began to rummage through it. The contents were hastily dumped on the counter.
After a few moments, he opened an envelope and withdrew a small pile of ruble notes. He held them up, showing them to Irma. He looked at the currency declaration, where she had listed no rubles. She knew full well export of ruble notes was not allowed.

The official frowned. His displeasure was evident. “Not allowed - forbidden!” he said emphatically. “No rubles can be taken!”
Helen whispered to Irma, “Why did you keep them? You know they were not allowed?”
Irma answered quietly. “They’re what’s left of the ones we bought - I couldn’t change them at the bank without an exchange receipt, so I just stuffed them in my purse.”
She quickly addressed the official. “I couldn’t change them back- I lost my exchange receipt. What else could I do?”
He seemed to ignore her statement. “Rubles not allowed - old pictures not allowed - no, no!” he shook his head, and said something in Russian to the other customs men. They began dumping out the contents of Irma’s suitcase, searching every item.
In a few minutes they had found the rest of the icons and the book. They began writing, at some length, on an official-looking document. Irma and Helen were both addressed in Russian, but they could only understand that the officials were disturbed.
Soon their boarding cards were taken from them, along with their passports. They were ushered into a small office.
A new, and evidently more senior, official came into the room. After a long conversation in Russian with the customs men who had inspected the baggage, he addressed them in hesitating English.
“You carry…. forbidden material. Rubles, old, antique - no permits. No declaration. You cannot go. It is not allowed. ” He tried to explain further, but his command of the language was slight. They understood only that they were in trouble, and would not be allowed to board the flight.
Irma tried to explain. She protested. She stood up and shouted. “I am an American! You cannot keep me here! Take these things if you will, but you cannot hold me! I demand to speak to the American consul!”
The officials did not answer in English. They conferred among themselves, then left the room, leaving only a guard to watch them.
Irma fumed. “No one understands us! They have made us miss our flight! This is ridiculous! We bought these things, paid for them with money we got for good U.S. dollars! How can they do this?”
Helen was a bit calmer. “Irma, you know we were warned. The guide told us not to exchange money on the street, and we were told taking out antiques would not be allowed! Maybe, if we just get to someone who understands English, we can explain. It won’t help to shout!”
They were made to wait over an hour. Finally a uniformed officer came into the room. He tried to speak to them. “Go - go Novorosk! Militia will handle. English. You go!” he motioned to the door.
They were taken to a waiting vehicle. The uniformed officer ushered them into the rear seat. He and a driver took the front. Their baggage was not loaded and their passports not returned.
“Where are we going?” Irma said to her companion. “I can only guess”, Helen responded, “he said something about Novorosk, I think. That sounds like the name of a little town I saw on the map, a ways from here. They seem to think someone will speak English wherever we’re going. But that’s just a guess!”
The driver and their escort talked among themselves, but they used no English words. Irma and Helen could only guess at their destination. The car drove for some time, and eventually they spotted a road sign pointing to Novorosk. Helen had guessed correctly.
Chapter 2
English at Last
The car stopped in front of an official looking building in the town of Novorosk. The escorting officer opened the door, and indicated they were to come out. They entered the rather drab building, passed a number of uniformed persons whom they assumed to be police, and were taken to a fairly large room with several benches. “Wait!” the escort ordered them. They sat down, and waited.
A female in a military style uniform came in, evidently to keep an eye on them. She sat beside the door. Their escort left.
Time dragged on. They waited and waited. The room had a small water dispenser, from which a glass of water might be obtained, and two rooms that were evidently toilets. They made use of the facilities and helped themselves to the water. The female guard seemed to tolerate these actions, but said nothing to them.
After they had been in the room almost two hours, a uniformed militiaman entered, and called out, “Irma Bradley!” Irma stood up. “That’s me,” she answered. The man indicated she was to come with him. She followed down a hallway, and then into an office. The room was the usual drab official style, furnished with an old desk, a couple of chairs, and an assortment of shelves holding papers and books. She was offered a chair.
Behind the desk was a man in a military or police uniform, slender, perhaps about forty. He smiled at her. Then he addressed her, in rather good English. “I am Vassily Kuznetov. I am, as you might say, an officer of the Novorosk militia, or police, to you. You have been referred to me, I have been told, because you do not speak Russian or Ukrainian, and you are foreigners. Sometimes persons are sent here because my English is perhaps a bit better than some of our men at the customs posts. I have been given some information about you, and it is my task to deal with you so we can resolve this matter-”
Irma could not contain herself. “We have been taken from the airport! Our luggage was taken from us! Our passports were taken! We have missed our flight! No one understands us, or can tell us what we are expected to do - then we were brought here and you kept us waiting for two hours! I insist you tell us exactly what you expect us to do, and let us get back to the airport as quickly as possible!”
Vassily listened to her outburst with as much patience as he could muster. He allowed her to finish. Then he told her, “Miss Bradley, you are charged with violation of the currency control laws and attempting to export prohibited items. You were found with rubles in your possession as you were about to embark on a flight out of the country. You were found with antique artwork in your luggage, for which you had no export permit. You had not declared either to customs. You had, in fact, wrapped the paintings in articles of clothing, in an evident attempt to hide them from inspection. These are serious matters.
“Further, the value of the artwork and the currency in your possession would seem to considerably exceed the value of foreign currency you brought into the country and legally exchanged. This suggests that you have engaged in foreign currency transactions at places not authorized to do such business. These are serious charges. Do you deny them?”
Irma was furious. “We declared all of the money we had when we entered the country. Why do you care where we spent it? We paid for everything we bought! We stole nothing! We’re Americans! You can’t hold us against our will! We have rights!”
“In our country,” Vassily went on calmly, “We have laws that govern where you can exchange money, and what you can bring in or take out of the country. They may not be like the laws of your country, but they are our laws, and while you are here you must abide by them. The charges against you are quite serious, and it may take some time to deal with them- ”
Irma interrupted him. “We are not going to stay in this place! You have no right to hold us! If you must, you can keep the things you found in my suitcase, but you have no right to hold me! I know my position! I am American, and I demand to see the consulate!”
“You will have opportunity to make your defense, Miss Bradley,” Vassily answered. “In due course. We may allow you to contact the American consulate, but it is not yet time. As for the items in your suitcase, we shall indeed hold them. We intend to find out where you acquired them, and how or if you paid for them. You may have had an accomplice. What is you friend’s position in all this?”

This is the beginnings of my career - the market of buying and selling female slaves. It begins, however, in my backwater college - a mere state school in the upper midwest. I’m hardly impressive physically, just your average thin runner-type. I was, however, fortunate enough to be a bit of a lady’s man. Never so much that I was swarmed for dates. Rather, I was the funny, non-threatening type. It was because of this, and because of the trust that one particular woman had for me, that I was allowed to participate in perhaps one of the most sexually-charged sorority initiations the law-abiding world has ever seen. At least in upstate Wisconsin.
I was brought into the smoke-filled basement of the sorority house with my chaperone. Curiously, no one was smoking. My chaperone was certainly one of the better looking women I’ve met. Sara is small: short, thin, and a particularly tight body. Her breasts, on the other hand, are quite large, at least for her size, very possibly a C-cup. I know what you’re thinking, a dream girl. Well she is, I just doubt those breasts could possibly be real. She has light-brown hair but she dyes it blonde, and some nice blue eyes. Although her beauty is great, Sara’s best advantage is her innate cuteness. Whenever she smiles her mouth goes off to the side, and when she talks you see flashes of her tongue along with her sexy lisp.
In the sorority basement were about eight guys, each with their own chaperone/already initiated member of the sorority. Most of the guys were pretty big, and all were juniors at the least, making them older than I. We all waited in our chairs, trying to prod information out of our chaperones and each other about what the initiation was going to be when down the stairs came eight female bodies, led and followed by sorority sisters. I say bodies because their shirts were pulled over their faces and hands cuffed in the air. The sisters at the back and front of the line held the arms up with a long line of string that went from the front to the back of the group. It was spring, but also night, so the girls all wore pants. Of course, the boys all cheered when they saw the bras of eight girls with their hands cuffed. Our chaperones quickly hushed us, telling the men that were weren’t to allow the women to know who we are. As the eight parade in front of us it becomes easier to see that they have pictures of their faces taped onto their shirts in front of their real faces to allow us to see who is who.
I quickly recognized one, although I had only seen her in passing. She had long dark hair, big brown eyes, and a thin, tall body. But that was not what allowed me to recognize her. I remembered her from seeing her always in white shirts - indeed, she was in one now. I always saw a little nub pointing out of those white shirts, but I couldn’t quite make out if those points were nipples or a bend in her bra. Now I was fortunate enough to easily determine that it was her nipple pushing through a pretty thick bra all along.
After we were allowed to inspect, although not touch, each woman, they were placed behind us so we would pay attention to a sister. She told us that to raise money for the sorority the initiates had kindly offered their bodies in return for money. Every guy but me snickered and gave low-fives at that. Then she said that we could not be given sexual favors from our slaves, nor harm them in any way unless consent was given by the initiate. Furthermore, no one could say what happened, nor who they saw this night. Other than that, each man would bid for one of eight ladies for the rest of the weekend, it being a Friday night. Finally, if any woman hesitated to do anything we asked of them that was within the rules, each offense was to be an additional six hours of slavery. Our chaperones would stay with us to ensure the rules are followed and to judge exactly what a “hesitation” is.
Of course you can imagine I bought the body I described earlier, which I was to find out went by the name of Jenny. Each man filed out with his new slave separately with the initiate still blindfolded so the slaves couldn’t identify who was in the basement that night. When Sara, Jenny and I got upstairs Sara introduced us to each other, checked her watch, and told me I had until 6:30pm Sunday to play with my new toy. Despite the fact that I’m a pretty shy guy, when given this chance I decided to go for the gusto. I’d be lying not to admit my boxers were tight when I knew I could have this tease for my own. And being an aspiring lawyer, I decided to go to the letter of the law, and certainly not the spirit.
I decided to go to Jenny’s dorm room so we could pick out some better clothes. When we got there it was void of Jenny’s roommate, so I decided the fun shall commence. For my first command I told Jenny to take off her bra, which she easily did without taking off her white shirt. Not that she could hide her nipples, which I realized were pointing through her bra because of their massive size - and now they were pointing through a thin white shirt. Since Jenny’s skirt collection consisted of one rather long skirt, I had her wear her PJ bottom - a soft and extremely short pair of shorts. Of course, she foolishly did so keeping her panties on. when I corrected her, she looked at Sara pleadingly. “I think that’s a hesitation.” I said. Of course, she tried to get out of it by saying her nudity was a sexual favor, but I picked up an additional six hours. Then she tried to peel off her panties while throwing on her bottom as fast as possible so I’d see as little as possible.
“You know Jenny.” I said, “I think six hours isn’t punishment enough. Every time you hesitate, I think I’ll throw in an extra punishment which not only benefits me but you don’t like. I want you to shave your pubic hair.” Sara almost cracked up laughing. As you can imagine, I picked up an additional six hours before Jenny went to the bathroom to shave herself. As she was gone, Sara and I rummaged through Jenny’s things until we found what I was looking for - a vibrator. Sara was so curious and kept pestering me about what I was going to do I almost didn’t remember to pocket the vibrator when Jenny returned.
The three of us went to a bar. Of course, Jenny wasn’t old enough to enter one, but I hardly thought anyone would stop such a tarted-up young lady. The three of us sat down at a table and I told Jenny that I’d forget about the extra twelve hours she owed me if she’d promise to do one thing for me. When she said yes, I handed her the vibrator, told her to turn it on and put it in herself. When she spread her legs, adjusted her body weight to one side, pulled the tiny bit of fabric between her legs to the side, and inserted a small vibrating egg into her shaved vagina I immediately got a hard-on. Jenny was also apparently enjoying the situation, as she immediately turned a shade of pink as her eyes glazed over. I told her to go to the bar, sit down, and see if she could get a drink.
Jenny slowly got up and approached the bar like an old lady, bending over and hobbling a bit due to the warmth between her legs. As she got up onto the barstool she must have flashed the man sitting further down the bar with her pink cunt, as he immediately got up to sit next to her. She ordered a honey ale which the young barman immediately got for her, as he seemed enamored by her tits, pushing their way through her shirt. The two men struck up a conversation with her, and she tried to nod and smile, but I think she was beginning to lose her inhibitions.
Meanwhile Sara and I were already talking. She was pleased with what I had done, and said she admired my imagination. She placed her hand on my knee, causing me to look down and see the mound that had grown in my pants that she had certainly noticed by now. She slowly moved her head towards me until our lips met, and we immediately began a dance of tongues. My hands wrapped her close until I practically lifted her light body up against mine by grabbing her ass-cheek with one hand and her armpit with another. Her hands also roamed over my body, but they managed to breach my clothing. Her hand that had once stood at my knee had moved inside both my pants and boxers from below, and Sara was now gently fluttering her fingertips over my rock-solid cock. I had to pull away from our kiss momentarily as spasms of pleasure rocked my body. This gave Sara enough time to direct my eyes towards Jenny.
Jenny had her legs spread at the edge of the barstool, her shorts doing nothing to cover her naked cunt. Her left hand was on the stool and her right around the shoulders of the man to the right of her, and her head was on the shoulder of this man so she could stay upright. The barman was reaching over the bar to both tweak Jenny’s nipples as well as to look down at her cunt. The man to her right was holding her up with his left hand while his right was actually underneath Jenny’s shirt and moving around quite actively. Being a bit jealous, to be honest, I walked up to the bar with Sara, and like a parent scolding a child I told Jenny to give me it and come with us. Sara hesitated, giving me six more hours, but after using a more stern voice I got the dripping wet vibrator she had pulled out of her cunt in front of two total strangers.
On the way back to Jenny’s dorm she complained about how bad she wanted to cum. I told her that if she wanted to, she’d have to give me a sexual favor. I explained she didn’t have to do me the favor, but she didn’t have to be able to cum either. She agreed. After seeing a big smile on Sara’s face and her hands all over me during the walk back, I knew it would be a wonderful night.
When we got to Jenny’s dorm I told her we were sleeping there for the night - and that there were some new rules. First, she had to be nude at all times unless going to the bathroom. Then I’d let her wear panties or her PJ-bottoms. Second, her cunt could never go up a solid surface unless I told her to. This meant no laying face down or sitting, only kneeling, laying on her back, or squatting (my favorite for reasons I you’ll come to realize). Third, she had to keep her knees apart by two feet at all times unless standing. And finally, she had to submit to any and all sexual favors on demand. I assumed Jenny would complain about this one, but I was surprised to find she was so intent on having an orgasm she quickly agreed to all my terms. She quickly stripped and asked what to do next.
I had her put her hair into a ponytail and then squat at my feet. I then told her to constantly keep her eyes locked on mine, but her head still down, so she looked like a cute little girl despite the fact I was going to fuck her mouth. Due to my commands she used her teeth to pull down my zipper as her fingers unbuttoned my pants, all while looking up at me like a good little girl. She then pulled my cock out of my pants which was already rock-hard from her being naked and looking up at me so seductively. I asked her one more time if she was willing to do this, and told her I wouldn’t be nice about it. She nodded before proceeding to bob her head up and down on my cock. I gave her instructions on how to apply pressure and use her tongue to her advantage. She applied my commands wickedly, even making slurping noises as her tongue slipped sloppily in and out of her mouth over my cock. For a time I reached around her squatting ass and came at her cunt from behind with my hand. While squatting her cunt was wide open and unable to stop my intrusion, although from my position I was only able to get about half of two of my fingers into the warm, sticky folds of her vagina. Instead I was happy with flicking about her clit and pinching it between my fingers while she masterfully gave me head.
At about the half-way point I took both hands and wrapped them around Jenny’s head, my thumbs firmly gripping her eyebrows. I then proceeded to hold her head in place forcefully as I bucked my cock into her throat. She merely accepted the situation, still looking up at me so cutely, as I fucked her face and continued to throw my cock into the back of her throat. Eventually I came, although I managed to firmly pull Jenny’s head up at the last moment as a strong stream of my cum shot hard into her eye. A second stream deflected partially off the side of her cheek, the majority of it pooling into her ear or sticking to her dark-brown hair. I then pulled her face over my cock and told her not to let one drop go down her throat. She obeyed, and as I slowly allowed her to milk my cock with her hands and lick the crown with her tongue stark white cum drooled out of her mouth, onto her chin, and between her breasts.
Totally spent I told Sara to handcuff Jenny to the corner of the bunk bed. This gave me a good view of her cum-soaked face, hair, and breasts as she couldn’t bring her arms down from above her head. After relaxing and listening to pleas from Jenny for me to let her cum I decide to enjoy placing the vibrator into the warm folds of Jenny’s cunt. As Jenny works her way into another world with the vibrator humming in her warm vagina, Sara and I begin to make out again. As she slowly strokes my cock back to an erection I can’t help but think what a luck guy I am. As Sara and I begin flinging clothes onto the floor Jenny decides to vocalize her pleasure with seductive but almost pleading moans. As Sara gets out of her pants, myself already naked, I grab Jenny’s ass for support as I pull the vibrator out of her juicy cunt. She whines a bit but I tell her she won’t be let go - even for the bathroom - until she cums. “I suggest you let us watch you hump the pole.” I said. Jenny, too turned on to deny us, begins moving her exposed pink flesh up against the black metal support for the bunk beds. At first she has difficulty moving up and down, but after her juices have lubricated the support, making a dark spot on the pole, she begins to slide both higher and lower with more and more speed.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, Sara pulls be back from behind and sends her tongue deep into my mouth. While doing this she maneuvers her torso above mine, soon squatting with her cunt positioned directly above my erect cock. She then moves her head back from the kiss so she can observe herself pull open her vagina with a finger from each hand and then slide herself slowly onto my erection. Her vagina is extremely tight, and she slides up and down a few times before she can get the whole of my cock into her. Because of the position we are in, I enjoy my cock feeling the warmth of her vagina all the way to the hilt, and I swear I could feel her cervix applying pressure to the tip of my member. Also, I could merely lack back and relax as Sara’s tight body with her large, surprisingly firm breasts bounce almost comically every which way, and also catch a view of Jenny at the brink of her orgasm, not quite able to go over the edge, giving me the ultimate stripper’s pole dance.
Sara began to slide faster and faster up and down my cock, taking my hands and placing them on her breasts. With me supporting her weight I could also now feel that these breasts were joyously real, as well as a firm handful. Giving me the responsibility to hold Sara up by squeezing her breasts allowed her to use one hand to divide the upper folds of her vaginal lips while the other went to work meticulously on her clitoris.
As Jenny and Sara were both getting towards their climaxes (any orgasm after my first takes notoriously long), into the room walked (as I eventually found out) Jenny’s roommate Marie. Marie was in the same class I had with Sara, and the two of us were pretty good friends. Marie is a somewhat tall, but very shapely woman with an exceptional bust line. Her hair is naturally blonde, and very light - even her eyebrows. Her eyes are even more gorgeous, with dark pupils contrasting nicely with very pale but deep blue irises. When she entered it seemed as time stood still. Jenny had mastered the technique of sliding as low as her handcuffs would allow before almost jumping up and forward against the pole and was oblivious to Marie’s presence. Sara was equally inattentive, her eyes having rolled into the back of her head and her head itself thrown backward long ago as she also jumped up and down on her own little pole. I looked at Marie as she entered and covered her mouth to muffle a small cry. It seemed like an eternity before she closed the door and locked it behind herself and looked down at me and paused, still stunned. After realizing she had walked into a room of three good friends in the throws of passion she flashed me a lovable, genuine smile, her gorgeous eyes obscured occasionally as her blond eyelashes fluttered.
Marie dropped her bag and hustled to the desk behind Jenny upon which I had placed the vibrator after removing it from Jenny’s cunt. Marie easily dropped her fly, turned on the vibrator, and held it to her clit beneath her panties. She pulled out the chair beneath the desk, but before she could sit down Jumping Jenny asked her for some help. So here I am, laying on my back with one woman’s breasts in my hands and vagina around my cock, another woman moaning into the neck of a third with her hands handcuffed in the air, and a third woman pleasuring herself with a vibrator and her hand in Jenny’s pink, fleshy folds.
Jenny came first, with Marie’s hands working quite well on her tired clit. Jenny fell from her standing position so forcefully I was afraid she’d dislocate her shoulders because she no longer had the strength to stay up. Sara came soon after, having been waiting so long for her own orgasm and pleasuring herself skillfully with her own hand. Sara collapsed as well, forward into my waiting arms as we kissed passionately and I held her warmth close. However, I was still far from done, so I turned my attention to the blonde bombshell at the foot of the bed…
To Be Continued…

JEN ~ A GIRL, A CAR, A ROAD:
GETTING HER KICKS ON ROUTE 66 ©
Chicago
[This is a work of fiction. The story is an unadulterated and unabashed attempt to tickle male fantasies and perhaps some female fantasies as well. As such, the story may or may not totally conform to reality. With the exception of the historical places and persons, all other locations, characters, and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]
HISTORICAL NOTE:
The TV drama, Route 66 that aired its first of three season from October of 1960 through June of 1961, almost never actually took place on Route 66. The adventures of “Todd” and “Buzz” took place all over the country: from Maine to Florida, from the right coast to the left coast, and from the Canadian border to the Gulf. I decided to remedy that by telling some of the story of Route 66 and to tell it with full disclosure of Jen’s “kicks.” The complete story of Route 66 can probably never be fully told, but a check on the internet for the Mother Road or Route 66, will keep you busy for a long, long time. This is the first of a series of stories that I wrote in 2005, that will take Jen from Chicago to L.A. on “The Mother Road,” U.S. Route 66.
There is sex im the story, but not every other paragraph. If that is your interest, read some of my other stories or go to another author. The story is first and foremost about about the road, second the girl, and third the car. Enjoy. The author.
******
Hi! My name is Jennifer, but no one ever calls me that. I am known simply as “Jen.” The story I’m going to tell you took place more than forty years ago in the summer of 1963. I remember what happened, although some specifics have dimmed with time, but I still have my detailed diaries for that decade to which I can refer for most of those specifics. My diaries started at age five. I still keep one daily.
I had just turned twenty-three in February of that year and I bought the car in the last week of April. What a car it was, too. It’s a shame I didn’t hang on to that masterpiece of machinery instead of selling it ten years later–one of the biggest mistakes of my life! Such a rare car would be worth a lot of money today. This story is about me, a car, and a road.
So first, more about me. I was a pretty good looker in those days and not too damned bad yet, if I do say so myself. I was twenty-three years old, a flaming natural redhead with green eyes and a smattering of freckles–not too many, from my face to my boobs.
Speaking of boobs, I had an ample supply, to the tune of 38 D and all natural, too. This was near the top of my five foot, ten inch frame. Further down, my waist measured 28″ and my nicely shaped hips, 36″. My thighs and calves were shapely and toned, tapering nicely from my tight little rounded butt. Back then, I wore a size ten dress (eleven or twelve if I did not want it skin tight in places) and a size six EEE shoe.
I was into the women’s liberation movement, in both attitude and dress, even before it arrived officially with the NOW organization in 1966. That’s why I usually wore shorts, halter or tube tops (braless, naturally), either very skimpy panties or none at all, and went barefoot in sandals.
I could afford to roam around footloose and fancy free because I was an only child, living on a more than generous inheritance from my parents who had been killed in an accident two years before. It would be a number of years yet before I settled down enough to think about a job and/or marriage.
The little Illinois town I grew up in during the 1940s and 1950s had a population at that time of about 3,300 people. It was then and is even more so now, a bedroom community for those who worked in Peoria, a few miles away, especially those who worked at Caterpillar. I don’t remember a whole lot from the 1940s, but I do remember bits and pieces of that time.
Then there was the fabulous fifties! The tame fifties. Eisenhower would dominate the decade in the White House, and I started fifth grade in 1950. My grade school memories aren’t many, but they are mix of pleasant and painful.
High school occupied my time the second half of the fifties. Life in a small town high school of less than three hundred students was great, easy, and boring. Boys were boring, interested in only one thing beyond sports, scoring with girls. That is to say, getting to all the bases and scoring a home run was the goal. Only one boy made a home run with me. And that was just to satisfy my own curiosity, but my interest had been whetted for later.
That later was college, which for me, began in the fall of 1961, but only lasted two years. I was more interested in campus parties than campus study groups. I also began feeding my sexual appetite rather frequently at some of those parties and I lost interest in gaining either a B.A. or an MRS. very quickly. So, with my parents dead and me terribly bored, with that generous inheritance, that was the end of school for me.
I decided to cut loose any way I could. A few years later into the decade brought the women’s liberation movement and the so-called sexual revolution and I embraced them, body and soul. Independence! Empowerment! Sexual freedom and Equality! Those were heady thoughts and heady times, especially for women, believe me.
******
Ahhh, then second, we come to ‘the car.’ I usually referred to it (her) as ‘Swifty’ or occasionally as ‘Miss Swifty.”
“Just what was this stupid car?” you ask.
Well, the stupid car was a 1963 Corvette.
“And what.” you ask, “was so damned special about a 1963 Corvette?”
Well, I will tell you what. Miss Swifty was a 1963, all black Corvette, split window coupe with red interior. And not just any coupe, but the Z06 coupe. General Motors only made 199 of the Z06s and the entire split window coupe line, only that one year. And of those 199, only 50 of them (mine was one) were delivered with the big, N03, 36.5 gallon fuel tank.
She had the L84 FI, 327 cubic inch, 360 horse power engine with the G81 positrac rear end. Other parts of the $1,818.45 Z06 option package, added to the base price of $4,257.00 were: the M20 four speed tranny; special, heavy duty racing suspension; special big brakes unique to the Z06; and the P48, knock off wheels. It has been reported that there are only two sets of these P48 wheels in existence today.
The option list went on,