The ad said “Wanted, male, 18 to 24, to share 2 bedroom house, with same.
Rent, $200 per month. Call…” and the number was listed. I had the ad
running for a few weeks and a number of guys came by to look. The house was
a typical batchelor pad, sparse furniture and no frills. It was located
in a quiet neighborhood and far back far from the street and other houses.
I was renting from a couple who had moved to Florida and wanted someone
to take care of the house.

I guess that either the house was too far away from civilization, or my
housekeeping was atrocious, because I had no takers. My money was starting
to run low and having no extra income as I had planned, was getting to be a
real drag. Then I got a phone call from Julie. I hadn’t considered renting
the room to a girl, as I thought that it could cause some complications
when I brought a date home. She was in a terrible need of a place to stay.
Her apartment complex had been sold and the rent was increasing to a point
where she couldn’t afford to live there anymore. I told her that I didn’t
really want to rent to a female, but she must have sensed that I was
getting desparate to find a renter. She talked me into letting her look
the place over.

When I opened the door, I was taken by surprise. I had envisioned a plain
looking girl with glasses. She had long blonde hair, which cascaded down
to her waist. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement and she was a very
beautiful vision of lovliness. I ushered her into the room and began
making excuses for the shape of the house. She ignored my comments and
seemed to have a number of ideas to spruce up the house.

I was being entranced by her beauty and wondered if I should really rent
her the room. Although there was some complications, I thought that it
just might work out to our mutual benefit.

You were just talking about it, when he suggested that he take some
pictures of you. “No,” you told him, “I don’t think I could do that.
Looking is one thing, but taking my clothes off for a camera is something
else. I mean, what if someone saw them??”

“No problem, doll. No one ever will. I can develop them myself, and we can
save them. That way, in 20-30 years, we’ll remember how good we looked, and
how much fun we had. I’ll tell you what: if you don’t want to, how about if
we just take some of you in regular clothes, or a swimsuit? You know,
fashion photography. How about that?”

“Well, I guess that’d be ok,” you told him. Thinking to yourself, though,
“Hmmm, maybe I could just start off that way, and see how it goes. I’m sure
I could always quit.”

So after a little more coaxing, you told him to be here at your place next
Saturday. Well, today was Saturday, and you had gotten up early, fixed
yourself a good breakfast, (so your stomach wouldn’t be growling), and took
about 2 hours to do your hair and make-up. When he came in, he said you
looked great, but that the make-up had to be a bit heavier, so it would
show up better on film.

“Kinda make it look like a hooker’s make-up. I know it seems like too much,
but it really IS better for the camera. It tends to get washed out from the
flash, so you need more to make it show up.”

So you went walking back into the bathroom (still wearing just a towel),
and applied more pancake, rouge, eyeshadow, etc…

While in there, you called out to him, “What do I wear?”

“ANYTHING you want, baby,” he answered. “Where should I set up?”

You told him the empty living room would be good. You had taken all the
furniture out so you could put in the new carpet, but so far had only
gotten as far as removing the old carpet, so all you had now was a bare
wood floor.

As you put on more cosmetics, you heard him banging around, moving his
equipment. You wondered what was involved. You assumed he would just have
his 35mm and a flash. “Must be more to it than that,” you thought. You
guessed that since he had done some photography for “High Society” before,
that he knew what he was doing.

Having finished with the Mary Kay, you head into the bedroom, and pull out
a business suit. You pull on the blouse, and put on the crotchless panties,
hoping he won’t notice till later. You pull on your suntan pantyhose over
them, and put the purple skirt on. The high heels come next, and, checking
your hair one last time in the mirror, you head out into the large living
room.

You are surprised at the amount of equipment he has there.

“What IS all that stuff?” you ask.

He starts pointing things out, explaining what they are needed for. “Well,
that’s a tripod, used to hold the camera steady, so we can get very clear
pictures. Wouldn’t do too well to have you all made up, and have it come
out blurry, now would it? That big white panel is a reflector. I use it to
even out the lighting all the way around you. That’s so when the flash goes
off, you don’t look like you are in a spotlight. These two boxes with the
umbrellas on them are called ‘fill-in flash’ units. That’s an additional
way to add light, because with just the flash on the camera, no matter what
reflectors I had, you’d still be in a spotlight. We want as much a natural
look as we can manage. I don’t want it to look like a picture. I want it as
a captured moment of time.”

You smile at his drop into romanticism, and ask what the cable on the
camera is for. He told you that it’s a remote for setting off the camera,
to insure even further that the camera doesn’t move when he take the
picture.

“Ok,” you say, “NOW what do we do?”

“Well, first, we have some wine. This is needed to relax you. I can see you
are a bit nervous.”

“Well, I’ve never done any film work before. I don’t know what to do. I’m
afraid I’ll mess up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you, “you CAN’T mess up. I’m the one who
controls everything. Just relax and be yourself.”

“OK, but, do we REALLY have to drink this early in the day? I mean, it’s
only 10 am.”

“Yep, necessary. Believe me, it’s ok. It’s only 1 drink.”

He gets out the bottle (already opened), and pours you a drink, in a long
stemmed wine glass. You sip it, and notice its chilled just right, and
actually tastes good for this early in the morning. You sit down, and look
around, intimidated by everything. You aren’t sure if you want to continue
with this.

He seems to notice this, and tells you to take your time.

“Drink the whole glass, but only at your own pace. Relax, it’ll be ok.
Think of it as fun, not something to be afraid of. Just like having your
school picture taken.”

“I HATED getting my school picture. They ALWAYS turned out terrible.”

“Not this time, love. This time it’ll be great. You’re so beautiful, I
could do this with a instamatic and make people think it was a Renoir.”

You smile at him, relaxing a bit. You are enjoying the attention he is
giving you.

“A Renoir? No, I don’t think so. Maybe I’d make a good Picasso?” You make a
funny face at him, sticking your tongue out.

He laughs, and leans forward to give you a kiss. You stop him, reminding
him of the lipstick.

“Hey, wait!” he says. “That’s perfect. Stay there.” And he turns the camera
around, and starts taking pictures of you. He has you cross your legs, and
hold the wine glass on your lap, both hands wrapped around the stem. He
takes the picture, then tells you to tilt the glass forward, so he can get
the ring of lipstick you have lip on the rim. Then he has you hold it up
almost to your lips, ready to take a drink.

The whole time, he is telling you how great you look, and how perfect the
pictures will be, especially since you are in them. You feel flattered and
amused that he would say so. “You’re just saying that.” you tell him,
hoping it’s not true. “No, I’m not. I really believe it. Really!”

After about 10 pictures of this, he asks if you would like to do more. You
say sure, since you are starting to enjoy it. He goes over to your stereo,
and turns on some hot, soft, romance music. Not sleepy classical, but
something with an underlying urgency to it. Not rushed, but not boring. He
has you look down a bit, stare up at him, with the glass close to your
mouth.

“Ok, now. Lick your lips very slowly, like it’s the most arousing thing you
have ever tasted.”

You do your best act, and notice your lips feel pretty good and smooth. You
put on a ghost of a smile, trying to be alluring. You guess it worked,
because he says, “Don’t do that! I’m trying to take pictures here!” You
smile wickedly, and decide to try and turn him on. You guess the wine is
starting to work on you, since this is your third glass; you have been
sipping it in between shots.

So you tell him to set the stuff back up where it’s supposed to be, and you
go over in front of the camera. You remove the blazer you had put on, and
he notices you don’t have a bra on underneath your silk lavender blouse.
“Great,” he says. “Put the glass down, stare at the camera, and pull your
shoulders back. Now lift your chin, and put one foot out to the side. Hands
on your hips. Great!”

He takes a series of pictures, you trying to be the sexy business woman
boss type. It seems to be working, because as you watch him take the
pictures, you notice he’s getting a hard on. You are about ready to spring
a surprise on him, when he announces, “I’m out of film. Hold on.”

Damn! You go back and get the glass, filling it up. Standing in front of
the camera, you wait, sipping at your Cabernet Souvignon. He reloads the
35, and gets back behind the lens. He says, “OK, ok, let’s go.” Seems to be
in a rush, does he? Ok, let him try this…..

You lean back, hold the glass high over your head, and tilt your head back.
He’s snapping like crazy, because your tits are tight against your blouse.
Then, without warning, you tilt the glass and let the wine run down your
chest, over your stomach, and down to the floor. He is snapping furiously.
Good thing he’s got that auto-winder on there! The wine is cold, and makes
your nipples tighten, and stand out even farther against your blouse. He
has you turn towards him, and do the same thing again. The blouse is now
see through, just adding a hint of color to your skin. Your large breasts
are looking good through it, and you feel excited. He says it’s perfect.
Just what he was looking for. So sexy, yet not dirty. Kind of like a wet
t-shirt contest, he says. So you continue….

You start to unbutton your blouse, and get down to your cleavage before you
stop. You lean forward, pushing your tits at the camera, and holding the
blouse open to show your breasts. It looks good against the see-through
which is all around it.

He just lets you do what you want, snapping pix at a rapid pace. You start
to undo the skirt, unwrapping it from around you, and letting it fall to
the floor. He almost faints when he sees the garter belt and crotchless
undies you have on. When he runs out of film again, it only takes him about
6 seconds to change rolls, and he is off again.

You decide to get very bold, and grab the front of your blouse, right at
your nipples. While he is snapping, you rip the blouse off you, letting
your tits swing free. You throw the blouse to the ground, and turn sideways
to show him your profile.

He pushes a stool over to you, and you sit on it. It’s kind of like a bar
stool, with the legs connected by bars. You sit on it, and press your knees
together. He throws you a towel, and you dry off. You put your hands on
your knees, and hold your tits together with your upper arms. He has you
straighten your back, and hold your head up, so you make a type of
triangle. “It looks so good, angel. I love it!” Your nipples are standing
up still, not from the cold anymore, but from the heat. You find that all
this is turning you on. You imagine yourself as a model for Playboy, and
that soon you’ll be Hef’s woman.

Your lover tells you to wake up, and move around. Who the hell is he to
interrupt your fantasy? So you put those heels on the floor, stand up, and
turn around, showing him your ass, covered by the black lace of the
panties. You pull it together, against the middle of you ass, showing off
your cheeks. That flash is going like a strobe light! You put your fingers
in the band of the garter belt, and bend over, sliding them down your long
legs, pointing your ass at him. You turn around, and kick off your shoes.
Now all you have on are the panties.

You stop, and notice he is rubbing his cock through his pants. “Excited?”
you ask him. “You know it, babe!”

You sit down on the stool again, and put you feet on the cross bars. You
slowly spread your knees apart, showing him the opening in the underwear.
Your legs get wider and wider, till it’s like you have nothing on at all.
Your pussy is wide open, and you can see him zooming the lens in on it,
pressing that cable release. He finally says he has to let himself out, and
wants to take his pants off.

“No. If you want to do that, YOU get in front of the camera.”

He hesitates. “No, I’ve always been the taker, not the takee.”

“Oh well,” you tell him. “Guess I’ll just get dressed then.” You start to
pick up your clothes.

He practically flies out from behind the camera. You giggle, and run back
behind it. He explains that all you have to do is get what you want in the
middle of the frame, and squeeze the cable. You tell him you think you can
handle that, and he takes no time in removing his pants, revealing his
tight bikini-type black underwear. His cock looks so huge in that tiny
thing! You almost forget to take pictures, but then you remember, and start
looking through the view finder. You get his whole body in view, and take
pix as he removes his shirt, shoes, and socks. Now he is dressed just like
you. (Except, of course, his underwear isn’t crotchless.) You tell him you
want to see his cock, but only if he does it nicely.

He has a nice body, and he turns around and around, acting like a male
stripper, dancing for the camera. He moves closer, and shakes his package
into the lens. You can see his balls bouncing through the material. He
backs up, and shows his ass to you. He, too, pulls the material between his
cheeks, and wiggles his ass at you. You find your free hand between your
legs, rubbing your clit. What a hot ass he has.

He drops his shorts, and turns around very fast, surprising you with the
length and stiffness of his cock. GOD, it looks inviting. But you want more
pictures of it, so you keep snapping. But it won’t take anymore. “Damn,” he
says. “Out of film again.” He rushes over, and changes the camera for a
camcorder. Mounting it on the tripod, he tells you, “I can make still
pictures from this. It runs for two hours, so don’t worry about missing
anything.”

Then he goes back to the chair, sits down, points his cock at you, and
pours a new glass of wine over it. You can’t resist. You love the taste of
cock, and the taste of red wine, especially this kind. You leave the
camera, and run over to the chair. He turns sideways, and you get on your
knees, taking it in your mouth. God, the taste of it is enough to drive you
crazy. The saltiness of his sweat, and the sweetness of the wine is almost
too much. You reach your hand back down between your legs, and furiously
pump your pussy. You stick two fingers into it, and are surprised at how
slick it is, then you remember you had poured wine on yourself, and some
had probably gotten inside. So you remove his cock from your mouth, and lie
down, legs spread towards him. He immediately kicks the chair out of the
way, and drops onto his stomach, putting his face between your legs. He
groans as his hard cock hits the wood floor, and you start to laugh.

“Verry funny. VERRRRY funny. I think I broke my cock!”

You tell him to turn around, that you’ll kiss it and make it better. He
does, and you take the glass that is still sitting there, and dip his cock
into it. There was just enough left to get the whole thing coated.

Then you put his legs on either side of your head, and put your hands on
his hips. He lets you control him, and you pull him down onto you, letting
his cock slide deeply inside your throat. His balls tickle your chin, and
you swallow, letting your throat muscles close around his shaft. He moans,
and drives his tongue into your pussy. You almost gag at the feeling he has
just given you. You pull your thighs close around his head, and hold him
there. He starts flicking his tongue up and down in your slit, making you
wetter, and licking off the stickiness of the combination of the wine and
your juices.

As you suck his cock, you feel it building in pressure in his balls. He
licks you faster and faster, across your clit, through your lips, and
across your asshole, teasing it just slightly. He holds your lips apart
with his hot fingers, and stabs your cunt with his tongue. He snakes it
around inside your nether hole, making you wetter by the second. The soft
bottom of his tongue rubs across your clit the whole time, making you jump
from time to time from the electricity his touch gives you. You feel
yourself starting you cum, and you pull his hips down, stuffing his massive
cock all the way down your throat, sucking as hard as you can. He pushes a
finger into your ass, and you cum, squeezing his head, and using your hands
to jam him farther into your pussy. He starts to cum, and you can feel it
burst in your throat, filling you up with the heat. You can’t hold it all,
and it starts to run out your mouth. Licking and sucking, you pull it out
as fast as you can, letting it spray your face. He turns around, after
going limp, and licks it off your face, then kisses you. Then he gets up,
points to the camera, and says, “We got it all on tape!!”

some. Dr. Maxwell Jones, otherwise known as Mac to his friends and colleagues,

sat enjoying his coffee in relative silence. It was his first day as a Professor

at the Institute for Science and Technology and already he was bored to tears. He

stared idly into the newspaper, propping his feet on the coffee table, while

lounging his tall frame on the hard couch. As the lounge area started to get more

and more crowded, he decided to head down to his office before his first lecture.

After a moment’s hesitation, he dismissed the thought of introducing himself to

the newcomers, instead he left with a casual, “Good Day” and a wink at the

ladies.

Peering over her mug Dianne asked, “You know him, Janine. What’s the scoop?”

“Who? Dr. Jones? Yes, we’ve met before,” answered Janine. In fact, they had more

than just met. The two of them had quickly become very intimate at Berkeley

several years ago. It took her a couple of months to recover from their caustic

break up, but she still had the urge to kiss him whenever she saw his ruggedly

handsome features. He was the essence of danger, the definition of male

chauvinism personified; yet, she had never stopped loving him.

“He does not look like a scientist, much less the most highly qualified member of

the scientific community,” blurted out Dr. Ronald Peterson. Of course, anyone who

didn’t wear tweed, a pocket protector, and spend enormous amounts of time

bragging about their success meant they probably were not, in Ron’s book at

least, a “Scientific Mind.” It especially meant they didn’t deserve the praise of

all academia like Dr. Jones had won the year before with his brilliantly

conceived breakthrough thesis on the relatively new frontier of Nanotechnology.

“Actually, his work has brought new light to the field of Science,” said Janine.

“From what I hear, he is arrogant, self assured, acts like a teenager, and has no

respect for authority,” spat Ron in disgust. Tiny droplets of spittle flew from

Ron’s mouth as he lectured on about the necessity for authority and correct

behavior being the most important characteristics >>for any Instructor to have

because without them chaos would ensue. “You see, we are considered role models!”

he said, as his hands flew up in agitation.

“I like this Dr. Jones already,” whispered Dianne, diverting her thoughts back

and forth from Dr. Jones to her coffee mug. “I am certain he was watching me

before he left,” she thought as she started to fidget with the top button of her

blouse. She had felt that particular “something” emanating from his open-eyed

stare. Perhaps, it was her imagination, but she still felt his animal magnetism

drawing her attention away from the group discussion.

“Further more, if it were not for his supposed high intelligence and his somewhat

ground breaking work, he would only be an associate professor at a small college

in the middle of nowhere,” droned Ron, as he finally sputtered out of steam.

“Tell us more about him, Janine. This is getting interesting.”

“Well, he is a womanizer. He drinks too much…and, all in all, he is a bad

influence.”

“Didn’t he win that triathlon last year?” asked Lydia, whom up to this moment sat

idly by listening to the gossip as if it was the latest rerun of “Seinfeld.”

“He is a hard drinker, yet he is a health nut! Make up your minds,” demanded

Dianne in mock anger.

“Well, he is a hypocrite in a certain sense. He has been married four times. Each

wife was high spirited, intelligent, and unforgiving. His first wife was a

lawyer. She wanted to change him. His second wife was a doctor. She wanted to

settle down and have a family. His third wife caught him cheating on her with her

own sister.”

“His wife’s sister? How tacky,” blurted Ron

“And his fourth wife?” asked Dianne.

“Back on the prowl again, Di? Thought you were going with that beefcake soldier

boy? What’s his name, Biff?” stabbed Ron, with his searing, highbrow sarcasm.

“No, his name was Bill,” she replied, licking her lips suggestively, thus causing

Ronald to head off to his office, after he announced: “Well, I must go prepare

for my 10:00.” She was sure old Ronny had a severe crush on her and she did

everything she possibly could to frustrate the poor bugger.

Once, out of sheer boredom she let the old man watch her through the partially

open door to her office from the hallway as she changed into her jogging outfit.

She found that changing in her office saved her some extra time before doing her

daily exercise routine. Moreover, it drove Ronald mad with desire every time he

watched her from his window as she bounced her way down the front steps. She

still smirked every time she thought about how he reacted as she once burst

through the door and bumped into him, making sure her hand clumsily boinked him

in the groin. She had often wondered just how exactly well built he was in the

sex department. However, she never planned on finding out by sleeping with him

because she couldn’t even stand being next to him, let alone stand the thought of

being under him.

“Is he still married?” Dianne asked, trying a different approach.

“His fourth wife died of natural causes. I think it was Cancer.”

“Oh. That’s sad. Do you know if he has a girlfriend yet?”

“For crying out loud, Dianne. You haven’t even met him yet.”

“What?” she asked indignantly. “What’s wrong with wanting to get to know your

colleagues?”

Lydia rolled her eyes as she chuckled at her colleague’s behavior. With her

innocent coy eyes and lack of makeup, she portrayed a natural beauty. Her deep

brown orbs reflected sympathy with their warm, enticing stare. She was an

optimist and felt everybody needed a fair chance to prove themselves. She hadn’t

officially met Dr. Jones, but she followed his work very closely. In her heart

and mind, she knew that Dr. Jones was probably more human and more real than the

participants in this current childlike discussion. She sat listening to them like

it was just another form of entertainment without any merit whatsoever,

entertaining none the less. She, herself, had received her job because of her

father, General Frank Trent. The government-funded research, that the University

relied on, created a need to keep the relationship congenial between the two

institutions. Her parents had planned her whole life. Her only time of freedom

was in college, where she found her sexuality. Yet, due to her strict upbringing,

she denied herself happiness with her only true love, Kate McCormick. They were

buddies, who had met one fateful Saturday night in the TV lounge at their

dormitory keeping each other company while the rest of the campus partied until

dawn.

“And why are you laughing, Lydia? You should know as well as I do that good men

are hard to find,” stated Dianne, who had always thought of Lydia as an old maid

type. By the time she would get around to try to get a man, her quaint good looks

would be gone and she would be left high and dry. “Or low and wet,” Dianne

thought to herself as she noticed her own growing discomfort between her legs.

She was horny as always.

“Well, as much as I would love to sit around and talk about my sex life, I must

go to my class,” Lydia remarked absconding from the troubling chatter, which by

some strange twist of fate she had been forced into.

“She really should get out more often,” said Dianne nonchalantly, not noticing

the look of distaste on Janine’s face at the uncalled for jibing of her best

friend and colleague.

Janine quickly excused herself from any further conversation and walked back to

her office. Once inside, she sat down heavily in her chair. She couldn’t keep her

mind off Mac because her mind kept recalling the long sexy nights she had shared

with him. It was the little things, which she thought she had always abhorred,

that enticed her and drove her to love him further. The gentle way he would kid

about her sexual appetite, the crude and often abusive language he used while

making love and the overall sexy way he looked at her with his large inquisitive

eyes, all made her melt like butter in her seat.

Soon the unbearable heat between her thighs became a raging fire and she began to

thirst for something to quench her uncontrollable lust. “A finger or two would

do,” she thought as she closed her eyes. She had plenty of time, until her first

lecture. Slowly, as if it moved on its own, her right hand crept down to pull up

her dress. One hand found a breast, while the other dug its way into her soaking

wet panties. A jolt of pure pleasure shot through her as her hand came in contact

with her slick, feminine perfumed sex. Through her lust filled daze, she heard a

knock at the door.

Straightening herself up and rushing to the door with a professional face, she

opened the door after unlocking it nervously. There stood the object of her

fancies grinning like a Cheshire cat in heat.

“Good morning, Doctor,” he said stepping into the small tasteful office of Dr.

Janine Sloane.

Not sure of what to say, feel or do, Janine extended her hand out to greet him.

In a pseudo-like gesture of sincerity, actually more of a mock romanticism, Mac

took her hand and kissed it like he would the delicate hand of a princess. She

noticed his eyes widen slightly with erotic intent. She thought at first he had

caught her in the act of solitary pleasure, and a second later it was obvious he

had, his sparkling eyes projecting that knowledge. She flushed as she realized

the evidence was right there under his nose, he could feel the slight dampness

and taste the remnants of her womanly secretions on her hand.

“Did I come at a bad time?”

“No, I was just getting some work done,” she replied, taking her hand away.

“I bet.”

“What do you want Mac?” she asked.

“I just wanted to say hello, that’s all,” he said stepping closer. She could feel

his magnetic personality pulling her towards him. Even the deep character lines

around his sinister smile were making her feel woozy.

“Well, hello. I am really sorry, but I must be going,” she said, picking up her

books to leave and to get as far away from him as possible.

“We will catch up later, perhaps?”

“Maybe.”

She walked briskly to her classroom, thinking about his stare of sexual innuendo.

He had degraded her again with just the look in his eyes. The knowledge that he

knew she had been touching herself made her want to go and hide forever, but it

also made her feel extremely randy. Mac always made her randy; in fact, it was

his specialty. He could make any situation erotic no matter what they were doing.

Once in the early days of their courtship, they had been sitting at a play. He

started letting his hands wander, holding her close, whispering tantalizing

thoughts in her ear – thoroughly letting his magnetic charm make her weak at the

knees. He exuded sex from every pore in his body like it was a hormonal

pheromone. They could have been at a funeral and she would have gotten excited.

Dragging herself back from the faculty meeting for the Science department, Janine

couldn’t believe her newfound situation. Part of her hated Mac for everything he

stood for and another part of her yearned for his touch. “I guess opposites do

attract,” she thought. There were no two other people who were SO as different

from one another as she and Mac. His idea of a romantic evening usually was a

brutal verbal battle of wits, followed by a passionate make up session. She never

had to beg anything from anyone before she met him, especially for sex. Never had

she been so willing to be subjugated by a male through her own desire – like she

allowed herself to be with Mac. She wasn’t into BDSM or anything, but he knew all

the right buttons to push to bring her down to a totally submissive level. For

awhile, she had thought it was just a phase she was going through, but it wasn’t.

He overwhelmed her. He personified the arrogant, self-confident bad boy while she

played the “goody two shoes” role as if they were cast in a cheesy romance novel.

She often pictured herself as the rich catholic schoolgirl, with Mac as the boy

from the other side of the tracks.

A strange sound interrupted her brooding as she rounded the corner to her office.

For a second she thought she heard sobbing coming from Lydia’s office next to

hers. Apprehensively, she started to knock on the door, but before her knuckles

could rap on the big heavy door, she heard a conversation between Lydia and

presumably one of her students. It seemed a bit too early in the semester for

such a sobbing appeal to a professor.

“I just can’t do it,” sobbed the faceless girl.

“Listen,” said Lydia’s voice. “Sometimes, you just have to find your priorities.

It will all work out.”

“How do you do it? I mean live with the knowledge you’re not like other girls?”

“Well, I usually try to think of myself as normal because there is nothing

abnormal about me. It’s the people who would put me down for being different that

are abnormal. They have the problem and I don’t,” said Lydia, as she thought of

how much a hypocrite she was being. The poor girl needed advice though and damned

if she was going to allow the girl to make the same mistakes she had made at that

age. “Once you find happiness you should hold onto it,” she thought, as Kate’s

last words echoed in her mind. Their last goodbye kiss had lasted for hours as

they lounged in bed memorizing each other’s body with their lips, tongue and

hands. She couldn’t forget the beautiful image of Kate’s long, raven hair

whipping side to side with each spasm of pleasure that she had given her. There

had been nothing like it in the world for her before and there probably never

would be again.

“You’re right, you know,” the girl said, as she blotted the tears from her face

with a soiled tissue.

The girl noticed the caring in the soft eyes looking at her. It was that

tenderness that led her back to reality. She felt a warmth as she gradually

calmed down to her normal happy self. It was so kind of the doctor to talk to her

and to let her in on her secret. They both shared something very special.

“Someday, you will find happiness, Charlotte. And when you do, don’t let it slip

away.”

“Dr. Trent?” She asked. Her eyes pleaded for some sign of what to do next and she

knew this woman had the answers she sought.

“Yes?”

“I was just wondering, I mean, I know you told me that you were…like me, but I

was wondering if you have ever?” she asked hoping the attractive older woman

would divulge the secret knowledge she yearned for, since she had first found

herself attracted to a woman. She ached to know what it would be like to kiss a

woman, let alone make love to one. If she was ever going to find out, then she

hoped it would be from a generous and sweet person like Dr. Trent.

“Dated another woman? Yes, a long time ago, when I was in college,” Lydia stated

apprehensively, wondering if she should have mentioned her own sexual preferences

to the girl after she had found her crying after class.

“What was it like?”

“Well,” she paused, not sure of how to explain what it was like or even if she

could. Then, she wondered if it was her place as Charlotte’s professor even to

have this conversation with her and admitted: “It’s very special.”

Charlotte brushed her hair from out of her eyes and just stared at Lydia with a

new look in her eyes. Lydia knew that look well. It was the same look she saw on

Kate’s the first night they professed their love for each other. It was a look

with a combination of love, respect, and lust. Whether or not Charlotte was in

love, or even somewhat attracted to Lydia, was hard to tell, but the chemistry

between Instructor and Student had changed.

“If you would like, you can call me anytime, if you like to talk about things,”

said Dianne, regretting it as soon as she spoke the words. She didn’t know what

she was doing. Something like this could cause her to lose her job. “What if the

rest of the University finds out?” she thought.

“May I? Thank you! You are the only person I have to talk to about this.”

“Of course, you can, Charlotte. Nevertheless, let’s keep this conversation to

ourselves. I am not out. Out of the closet, that is. It could cause problems for

me.”

“No, don’t worry! I know what that is like.”

Janine trembled with surprise as she listened to the startling conversation. She

knew Lydia was not interested in finding a man or a husband, but had thought it

was just because she had been hurt in past relationships.

“And what are we up to Doctor?” asked an all too familiar voice.

“Oh, I was just going to ask Lydia a question, but she is busy with a student.

What are you up to Mac?”

“I was just going to drop by to see if you had changed your mind yet? How about

dinner?”

“All right. But, only dinner.”

“No dessert?”

“Perhaps, but I am watching my weight,” she said, licking her lips unconsciously.

“How about around six?” he offered.

“Sounds good.”

She knew she was setting herself up for another fall, but she had always had

trouble saying no to Mac. “I can handle having dinner with him,” she thought,

reassuring herself.

Sitting at her desk, she noticed a small petite black girl leaving Lydia’s

office. The girl was definitely a beauty and probably had all the boys falling at

her feet. It seemed ironic to Janine as she thought about Lydia and all the

signs, which she had missed, that now so clearly suggested she was bisexual if

not lesbian. It was hard thinking of Lydia in that way. She had always seemed so

calm, reserved, and rather asexual. Evidently, there was a lot more to her than

appearances suggested.

***

By the end of the day, Dianne found herself alone in her office with damp panties

and a caffeine rush. Too much caffeine gave her way too much energy, making her

bounce off the walls. She looked forward to meeting Mac privately to get to know

him better, so taking matters into her own hands she had put a note on his desk

asking him to drop by for a chat. Life had become boring in the past month or so.

Her summer had been filled with hot sex and companionship, but then Bill had

shipped off to southeast Asia somewhere. Of course, she polished his pistol for

him before he departed, but that had been over four weeks ago. While she did

indulge in a casual one nighter here and there, she had not been thoroughly

fucked in over a week.

Dianne once had thought of going to a sex addicts meeting, but she figured she

would probably screw all the members. She started to fantasize about all the

different kind of “members” that would be at a sex addicts meeting. “It would be

like a candy shop,” she thought. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of

such tantalizing thoughts, as she started to go through her lecture notes for the

next day.

“Come on in,” she announced, after hearing the knock at the office door. She

licked her lips and casually ran her hand down to smooth out her dress.

“Well, hello there, Doctor. How are the classes going?”

Mac just walked in and perched on the desk inside of Dianne’s office as they

exchanged pleasantries and informal hellos. He knew she was the complete opposite

of the women he usually went for, but she seemed all right. Her personality

needed some fine-tuning, yet she still had an excellent body. “Perhaps,” he

thought, “taking this job wasn’t that bad of an idea.” It had been getting a bit

uncomfortable at Berkeley after his countless rendezvous’ with half the female

student population. Sometimes, it was just easier to screw a student, rather than

be slapped with a sexual harassment suit from a fellow employee. The students

were much more liberal.

“So, I hope you don’t find this too bold, but would you like to have dinner

tonight? You know, a get to know the new guy dinner,” Dianne asked, hoping he

would answer in the affirmative, although she didn’t have a serious doubt that he

would.

“Dinner? I have…plans. How about a raincheck?”

“Oh, ok…sure…no problem,” she said smiling, but visibly taken aback.

“Well, I must get going. Lovely talking to you,” he winked.

Dianne sat down with a loud thump. If there was ever a time she needed to be

fucked, this had been it. “Damn,” she thought. “He’s probably gay.” At this

point, she would have screwed anything that moved. It had been a long day and she

decided to head home for the day. Perhaps, she would go down to Bill’s Bar. She

could make it that far. The gentlemen there usually liked seeing her and right

now, she wasn’t in a mood to be very discriminating.

***

Over dinner at a fancy restaurant, Mac brought the conversation back around to

sex. It was his favorite subject. Janine didn’t seem to mind though. She couldn’t

keep her mind off of it either; in fact, his familiar sensuality was starting to

get to her. He smelled wonderful. She started to become lost in his eyes like a

little girl watching her teenage idol.

“So, do you still scream out my name when you make love?” he asked.

“I never screamed out your name.”

“No? I remember, and I am sure all of Palo Alto remembers, that you did.

Actually, I bet I could make you scream my name right now,” he said, goading her

on.

“Hmm, I don’t think so. What are you going to do hit me?” she asked, remembering

the game. Perhaps it’s the wine, she thought, as she made a mental note not to

accept another glass of it. Then, all mental processes ceased to work when she

felt his stockinged foot creep up her pantyhose clad legs. He didn’t say a word

as he sipped his wine and let his probing foot climb higher up under her dress.

She gasped out, while looking around to see if anybody noticed his foot resting

on her upper thigh. The tablecloth was long enough to hide the game.

“No, I don’t have to hit you,” he said, as his foot found her the apex at the top

of her thighs. He noticed her spreading her legs further and knew he had her.

“So,” she gasped, “what do you think of your new job?” His toes had found her

special spot and were rubbing her persistently.

“Oh, I like this job, much better.”

Dianne couldn’t stand the torture any longer. She felt her frustrations leaving

her body in an excruciatingly pleasurable orgasm. She bit into a dinner roll as

the first wave of pleasure coursed through her body. She barely had time to fake

a cough as the second spasm caused her to clasp her legs together pinning his

foot tightly against her covered sex. When she was through, she heard him talking

softly to the waiter asking for more water.

“Are you alright, darling?”

“Must have gone down the wrong pipe. I am fine now,” she said, waving off the

waiter, with the start of a schoolgirl giggle.

“Would you like dessert now?” he asked, staring into her eyes with a look of

lust.

“Yes.”

***

Dianne lay in her tub with bubbles up to her neck. Her wet fleshy breasts poked

out from out under the frothy water. Her hands splashed around in the water

looking for her sponge. Teasing herself, she brushed her hand between her legs

and fought off the urge to submerge her fingers into herself. She was an expert

at auto arousal and could have written her thesis on it. Her thumb found her

clitoris and she thrummed it slowly, while rubbing the soapy flesh around her

slit under the water. Her middle finger slowly trailed her open lips. The labia

parted and a finger slipped into her.

The door opened and a burly looking man entered. He was a nightly patron to

Bill’s Bar. She liked the muscled hunk without a brain, which enjoyed being a

monthly patron to her open bed.

“Where would you like these glasses, Dianne?” he asked, holding two champagne

glasses in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other.

“Oh, forget the wine for now. Would you hand me that towel?” she asked, slowly

rising from the liquid depths of the tub. The water fell like sheets of rain down

her body and soapy bubbles clung to her body, lightly covering her furry sex and

firm breasts.

“Of course,” he answered. He was never one to talk too much. It was never

expected anyhow.

“Oh, I seem to have gotten you a bit wet. Let’s get those clothes off you before

you catch a cold,” she said playfully.

“Oh, yeah…right!” he said, disrobing as if he was the next contestant competing

for a prize for the fastest undresser in the west.

He picked her up easily as if one would pick up a doll. He carefully carried her

lithe form into the bedroom, over to the bed, then set her down, as if she were a

precious object. Unwrapping her towel, she swung her legs wide and teasingly

splayed her labia with her fingers, while saying, “You know what to do.”

He didn’t say a word as he knelt between her legs. The dim light of the bathroom

shadowed his hard rugged features. She looked down at his red fur covered head

while he slurped at her dark depths of pink. He swirled his tongue around her

womanhood like she had taught him. Her hips lurched forward against his face and

her body trembled with each thrust of his talented tongue. She groped at her own

breasts twisting the nipples slightly between her fingers. The tingles spread

through her body starting at her loins up to her stomach. It was time.

She yanked his hair, which prodded him to cease licking her; instead he got up on

his haunches and pressed his mammoth penis at her entrance. He thrust into her

letting her have the full length of his shaft quickly. Her groan of pleasure/pain

drove him to start moving quicker. He knew from past experience that she liked it

hard and fast. Her breathing matched his timed strokes and her breasts jiggled in

his hands as his mouth sought her rosy nipples. Simultaneously sucking and

humping her gyrating body, he felt the desire to spill his seed within her, but

he knew that would be a mistake because she was not done yet. Trying his best to

keep her climbing the staircase of her desire, he bucked his hips in a frenzy of

lust.

She was close and could feel his tension as he got closer to orgasm, too. She

moaned out that she was there. The orgasm made her body tense and her inner

muscles squeezed, churning the orgasm throughout her body. Her release made her

weak and she felt his oozing within her.

***

Mac opened the door to his apartment and ushered Janine into his humble abode.

The lights were flicked on and as soon as the door was closed, she threw her arms

around him. The kiss was urgent and full of passion. The two of them buckled to

their knees onto the shag carpet. Neither of them were worried about rug burn, as

they tore off their clothes in abandon.

He withdrew his mouth from hers and backed away. Mac looked at her with a knowing

grin and waited for her to ask. She had to ask because it was part of the game.

It was their game.

“Please…” she whispered.

“What?” he asked, “Would you like some wine?”

“No! Pleeaase,” she said reaching for him. She knew what she had to ask, but

tried to seduce him out of the game.

“Oh, would you like water instead?” he asked grinning wider.

“I want you.”

“Want me to do what?” he pressed further, stroking his penis.

“I want you to make love to me, NOW!” she gave in and begged.

“Ok.” He slid to the floor and started kissing her with lust. This was his

favorite part. Watching her beg was just the beginning. It was the way she

screamed his name in passion that he loved to hear her pant, moan and scream

because of what he did to her. Enveloping her body, mind and soul with desire got

him off. It was like no other thrill. She was like no other woman and he had had

many women. He had had all kinds of women. Some had large breasts he could play

with for hours, some had an ass he could look at forever, some had such a

beautiful face he could kiss for an eternity, but Janine was a woman whom he

could make love to forever because she loved every moment of his passionate

torture. She begged for his desire and she took him to another place. All it took

was for him to touch her with his naked hand on her thigh and she would open up

her soul to him. She would let him rape her mind for a moment of bliss. It was

something he felt guilty about, but he loved playing with emotions. He actually

went to other women in order to come back to her and make her love him more. It

was perverse and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself or his own desire.

The sex was wonderful. Their bodies bounced and heaved in a writhing bundle on

the carpeted floor and their moans pierced the night. The sound of the sweaty

bodies bucking and slapping into each other made them both quiver with passion.

The release was only the beginning. The game wasn’t over, yet.

***

Lydia lay on her couch watching “Seinfeld” again. Kramer had just entered the

room in a whirlwind of comedy as the phone rang. For a brief second she got

frightened that it might be Charlotte, but she figured it was probably her mother

again.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Dr. Trent?” asked a quiet feminine voice.

“Yes?” she asked. Her heart beat a mile a minute. Thoughts of how to get out of

her new found friendship with the girl passed through her head, each one seeming

like a lame excuse to ditch the poor girl in her need.

“I just wanted to thank you again. Am I bothering you?” Charlotte asked.

“No, no you’re not bothering me. Are you all right? You sound scared.”

“Well, I just don’t have anybody to talk to about my feelings and stuff.”

“Is there a girl involved? Perhaps, someone you know?” asked Lydia, assuming the

poor girl had a crush on someone.

“Yes, but I don’t think she is interested in me. I can’t really talk about this

on the phone. My roommate is coming back soon. It’s not too late at night for me

to come…I mean, oh nevermind. I am sure you have a lot more important things to

do.”

“Oh, I see. Well, you could come over here and talk about it. That would be

fine,” proclaimed Dianne.

“Great! You don’t really mind?” Charlotte asked in a girlish voice.

Dianne gave the poor girl her address and hoped she wouldn’t have any trouble

finding the house. It was starting to get late and she didn’t want Charlotte

wandering the streets this late at night just to talk to her. Against her will,

she started to become anxious like a schoolgirl waiting for a date. She checked

her hair in the mirror and became even more nervous because of the effect

Charlotte was having on her.

It didn’t take long for her to arrive and Lydia let the desperate looking girl

into her home. Charlotte’s long dark hair hung down over her shoulder and rested

on her petite breasts framing her delicate olive face. She looked young, innocent

and beautiful, yet her eyes told a different story, as they shone brightly with

sexual intent.

Lydia had the girl come in and sit down, then relaxed as they talked about all

the obstacles in the path of lesbians in modern society. The discussion slowly

turned into laughter as they each relayed their horror stories. They both had

been caught glancing at other girls in a shower room and they both had crushes on

a roommate or two.

“Tell me about your roommate? What is she like?” asked Lydia.

“She is this cute little redhead. I just loved redheads!” Charlotte exclaimed and

Lydia blushed as she played with a red curly lock of hair.

“Redheads, eh?” Lydia laughed.

“You have beautiful red hair,” Charlotte said getting bolder.

“Thank you. I often think of coloring it though. It gets a lot of attention.”

“NO! Don’t ever do that.”

“I won’t…it’s just a thought I have every once in awhile.”

“Do you brush it often? Your hair is so shiny and perfect!” exclaimed Charlotte.

“You sound like a shampoo commercial!” laughed Lydia.

“Haha, I am sorry. Would you let me comb it for you?” asked Charlotte, as her

eyes gleamed with sexual desire.

“Sure. There is a comb in my bedroom. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“You’re apartment is so gorgeous. Here sit on the bed and I’ll comb your hair. I

was going to be a hairdresser you know, but I decided on getting a degree here. I

had a scholarship, so its not like I could turn it down,” blurted Charlotte, as

she gently brushed Lydia’s hair.

Lydia felt a hand massaging her back as Charlotte ceased brushing her hair. Lydia

didn’t resist because it felt good to be touched. Charlotte’s hands kneaded her

neck in tiny circles and she said, “Boy, you’re really tense!”

“That feels really good. Don’t stop,” said Lydia, knowing full well it wouldn’t

end with just a massage. She didn’t really care. The girl’s hands were like heat

seeking missiles, finding the tense spots immediately.

“Lie on your stomach,” breathed Charlotte.

Lydia lay on her stomach as Charlotte unzipped Lydia’s dress releasing the

tension of the tight dress and also allowing herself to explore more of Lydia’s

soft flesh.

“There that’s better isn’t it?” asked Charlotte.

“Mmm, yes.”

“Let me undo this terrible contraption here. It’s really not good to be wearing a

bra during a massage.”

Lydia didn’t say a word, as the brassiere was unclasped, feeling Charlotte’s warm

hands caress her bare back. She let go of all pretenses as she turned over

letting the bra fall from her ample breasts. The dress slinked off her shoulders

and she threw the bra onto the floor.

“I know this is not appropriate, but dammit I want you,” whispered Lydia into

Charlotte’s ear, as they hugged.

Their breasts pressed together for the first time, Lydia’s naked mounds pressing

against the soft cloth of Charlotte’s sweater. Lydia pressed her lips to the

passionate girl’s mouth. Their two tongues touched for the first time in an

intimate kiss. Slipping out of her dress, Lydia motioned for Charlotte to do the

same. As more of the innocent girl’s olive skin began to show, the more Lydia

desired to touch her.

Lydia lay back as Charlotte explored her first woman sexually, soft tender

explorations meandering over Lydia’s body. Her breasts were cradled in loving

hands as a soft mouth suckled her hardened nipples. A thigh wedged itself between

her legs when Charlotte pressed the moist lips of her womanhood against Lydia’s

thigh after sitting astride her leg. Lydia let her rub herself on her as they

kissed. Then, with a sudden jerk like magic Charlotte’s eyes fluttered with her

first orgasm.

Lydia held her in her arms softly, stroking her sweaty brow. Slinking down her

body kissing olive colored flesh, Lydia found two treasures begging to be

touched. The tiny nipples sprouted from the firm, spongy flesh. Her lips traveled

down to a pierced navel and sucked the metal hoop into her mouth. A trail of

kisses followed her hands to the soft curly fur of the girl’s vagina. Lydia

feasted, teaching the young woman the art of love.

***

The next morning early in the Faculty lounge. Dr. Maxwell Jones and Dr. Janine

Sloane stood by the Mr. Coffee laughing over the latest Dilbert comic strip and

Dianne peered over her mug in jealousy as they left almost holding hands.

“Good Morning,” chirped Ron in his usual snobbish way.

“Hello, Ron.”

“It looks like our new recruit and Dr. Sloane are getting quite comfortable

together?” he mentioned rather glibly.

“I don’t know. I think they have some things in the past in common. Probably a

bed or two,” said Dianne coarsely.

“Jealous? I thought you of all people wouldn’t let that stand in your way. From

what I heard not many have turned you down,” chuckled Ron.

“Oh shut up, Ron! You’re such a gossip.”

Lydia strode into the lounge gracefully and was greeted by a bitchy Dianne and a

nosy Ron. If they couldn’t tell she was glowing, then nobody could.

***

“Here?” she asked.

“Why not? It’s a good a place as any. Don’t you think?” he said.

He slid down her body and pushed her onto the desk. Her dress allowed his hands

to rip off her panties savagely.

“Oh, God.”

“Mmm, nope, I am not a god. Have you become religious lately?” He slipped a

finger inside of her.

“Don’t be such a wise ass,” she said. “Yes, that’s it right there. Shit, that

feels so good.”

“You mean here?” he chuckled sucking her lips into his mouth. Her coral sex was

wet with arousal and his saliva gleamed on the pouting lips. She could feel the

intricate pattern of his oral ministrations effect her. She was so close.

“Yes! Don’t ever stop,” she moaned. Janine was almost there. Her whole body was

tense. Her breast’s heaved with passion causing them to jiggle in each response

to his lovemaking. With each swipe of his tongue on her clitoris her whole body

jerked in a spasm of pleasure.

“Hmm? I have to get going, love,” he said leaving her at the edge of release.

“What? NOW?”

“Yes, I do have to teach classes every once and awhile.” He grinned.

“YOU bastard!”

“Later, perhaps?” he smiled.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Later, love.” He kissed her softly as he broke away from her clutching embrace.