The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

We waited in the chairs at the airport gate for our flight to board. The hard plastic arm rests made it impossible to sit hip-to-hip, arms around each other.

“I can’t believe my parents are letting us go together,” Helen sighed, holding my hand.

I stared deeply into her eyes. “I don’t care how it happened. I’m in heaven. Why question the will of the angels.” I kissed her, softly. This was only about our five-hundredth kiss that day, and as far as I was concerned, that was nowhere near enough.

It was a minor miracle that Helen and I were allowed to go on the senior year trip to the islands together. My parents had somehow come up with the money, and her parents were tacitly giving her permission to become a woman.

Helen and I had discovered our love for each other when we were both in the school play. We had so much in common: our love of art and creative drives, similar tastes in music, and most importantly a desire to explore the world. We had both had crushes before, but this was real, true love.

When our parents learned how serious we were about each other they arranged a barbecue to get to know each other. My Dad had his usual take on her folks. “Nice people, but you can tell they’ll never get anywhere.” My Dad has a habit of classifying everyone based on their drive and ambition. (To this point in my life I thought I was on the losing end of his scale. But with Helen, I knew I could take on anything!)

They grilled me about our Her before Her family came over. “Now I’m guessing you haven’t had sex with her yet. Do you know if she’s still a virgin?”

“Da-a-ad!”

“I’ll take that as a yes. That makes it a lot more difficult for your first time. Not for you of course, boys just stick it in and go. But if you’re both virgins. . .”

My Mom piped up, “Don’t be surprised if you ejaculate quickly the first time, or can’t at all. That’s perfectly normal. But it took about five or six times of having sex with your father until I even enjoyed it.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing back then,” he explained with a wink. “The girls I did it with were all more experienced than me.”

“Or they were sheep,” My mother laughed. My Dad had grown up on a farm, and according to legend had worked out most of his teen lusts on sheep, instead of his hand like your average suburban boy. Apparently a sheep’s vagina is similar to a woman’s. You led them face up to a wall or a fence pole, positioned yourself at their entrance, and the poor things kept trying to back away from the obstruction. As they did so, they slid back onto the farmboy’s dick, until they hit the human’s hips and stepped forward again. Thus, the sheep did all the work, simulating a willing partner.

I found it both disgusting, to use a poor animal that way, and yet fascinating to have a wet pussy engulfing me. I’d heard of friends using stuffed animals and watermelons, and if the sheep were too dumb to care....I was so horny all the time, I understood, even if I didn’t approve.

“Remind me to get you a bottle of lubricant,” she went on. “The very last thing you want to do is hurt her if she has a dry vagina. You have to be careful about what type you use, as well. Some lubes, like baby oil, dissolve condoms.”

My face had been reddening as we talked, and I just barely gulped out, “...onna—pill.”

“Then you better be sure she’s a virgin, or used condoms before you. All it takes is once, and you can get herpes, gonorrhea—Aids is less likely with vaginal heterosexual sex, but it definitely happens.”

I was sort of used to this sort of talk at my house. My parents often read the letters out loud from Penthouse Forum. One story my Mom read while they were driving, got me so hard I was going to burst. When they got to the end of the story, though, they burst out laughing that anyone would write something so patently stupid. How was I to know that Chinese women didn’t have sideways cunts. It was all mysterious to me—so why not?

When my sister and I became teenagers they explained that they were frequent visitors to swingers clubs. And frankly, my Mom sounded like a donkey when she came.

But that didn’t change the fact that I was a teenager, and as much as my friends told me I had the coolest parents ever, I was always completely embarrassed by their frankness. And where my sister had gone out and flaunted her sexuality, getting both pregnant and the clap on the first time out (in defiance of their lectures on safety), I had always been more private and shy.

Helen’s family, on the other hand were what my family called strait-laced. I’m sure her folks considered themselves sexual pioneers compared to their own parents. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were progressive enough for her Mom to accept the fact that her Dad read Playboy! But next to my parents. . . . I’ve no doubt my parents spoke to them frankly and diplomatically as to whether their daughter and I were already banging each other’s brains out under the bleachers. Unplanned pregnancy and STDs were never a joke in our house. And feelings and emotions, in any relationship, were just as important as sexual play with strangers. But I’m sure they made it clear to her folks that it was only a matter of time before the ship left the dock. Or rather, the train entered the sheep.

Helen had reported to me the next day at school that she and her mother had a very long talk, not only about the birds and the bees (which we already knew about) but also about contraception and not being forced into something before she was ready.

“What did you tell her?” I asked, kissing her long, delicate hands.

“That I know you’re the one—”

My heart leaped! We’d talked around it, but she never had said it before.

“—And that we want to wait for the right occasion.”

I nodded and held her closer than ever. My erection swelled down my leg. We exchanged our vows of love with our kisses.

I’d always been proud of my sense of smell, even if I thought my nose was too big. and her nose fit her face perfectly—straight and regal without being overbearing—but as we kissed I wished our noses would disappear, so they wouldn’t keep banging into each other as our lips wetly pressed together from every possible angle.

Our discussions of when was the perfect time had led to our asking to go on the senior trip, and to our surprise, both our parents agreed. So here we were, with a hard plastic armrest and several hours of flying time away from knowing each other. Before we became adults. Before we walked together, naked, hand-in-hand, through the gates into the secret realm that every grown-up seemed to know.

I looked around the airport gate as we all sat waiting to be called aboard the plane. There were other teens our age, other couples oblivious in their embraces, knots of kids laughing and playing cards, girls chattering like squirrels, and guys trying to figure out how to get alcohol—and I tried to pick out our friends, people we had been in the play with together, our classmates. For some reason I was coming up empty. I didn’t recognize the teachers who were chaperoning us. Surely I’d seen them at school. I searched my memories, but came up blank. Ah well, a glance back at Helen, and everything else went blank anyway. Except that stupid armrest digging into my stomach!

On board the plane, we sat together at last, side by side. And after watching the ground drop away and turn into an endless flat blue field of ocean, I dug into my carry-on and presented her with a medium-sized book of Gaughan’s island paintings. After the round of kissing that resulted, we sat snuggled up together looking at the details, pointing out the light on objects, the expressions, the flat strokes.

“If we came to a topless beach,” I asked, “would you ever walk around with just one breast out, like her?” I pointed to one of Gaughan’s Polynesian women.

Her white skin reddened. “Are you asking me to?” The tips of her ears were absolutely scarlet.

“No, no!” I stammered. “Darling, I just was—I always imagine you as being free from anything that would bind you, or tie you down. You’re such a—such an air spirit to me, I always see you soaring above any sort of rules.”

“No, its—you’ve seen me in a t-shirt! I don’t have—I never grew...any...You know!”

“You’re willowy! I’ve never seen—y’know you always have a bra on.”

We both sat there flustered. I piped up, “In the Narnia books— Y’know Pauline Baynes’s art, she draws these dryads, and he talks about the birch-tree girls.... That’s how I always think of you. Slender and tall and straight and pale.”

“Am I air-y or tree-y? Make up your mind.” She smiled.

I did what any confused guy should do when he’s not being clear. I cut through the clutter of words and kissed her. That’s what I meant, anyway.

At this point in our relationship we had been snogging pretty deeply, more than just lips. Our tongues had tried out every corner of each others mouths, from the tips of teeth to tops of tonsils. We’d each tried to stick or tongues down each other’s throats. It sounds so disgusting, but felt so exciting, I don’t have words. Plus we’d nibbled and sucked on every extremity and hollow we could while clothed. Ears, noses, fingers, necks, palms, knee backs—she was the first to try putting a tongue in my ear, and I thought I would die of pleasure. We had delicately licked each others faces, like puppies, but we thought that was too weird. Necks were cool, though, and we had both sported hickeys above our collar bones for a while.

We would try something, like my running my fingers through her short blond hair, and if it felt good, I would feel her fingertips running along my scalp. She would place my fingertips to her lips and kiss them, and I’d do the same, perhaps sucking on them a bit. Before long we’d have our fists in each others mouths, trying to suck in an arm. And then we’d realize how far we’d gone, with giggles and sighs.

And then we’d hold each other and breathe in the scent of approval. I’d never felt like a god before, just a lumpy kid with a big nose and big feet. But here I was, swelling with the love of a goddess who worshiped me like a divine being. I felt like there was a bubble of impossible lightness straining to float free of my chest. I loved her. I worshipped her. And she loved me back. And she loved me back!

“I need a blanket,” she announced. I stood, and opened the overhead bins until I found one, light blue and thin. More of a fuzzy throw sheet than anything that would keep you warm. I grabbed three, just to be safe. As I came back down, I saw something slither out her arm hole. some scraps of wire & cloth. She was turned away from the aisle, facing the window. We’d been lucky enough to have both rows all the way across to ourselves, and it seemed doubly lucky that no one had bothered us at all. The other kids sat behind us on the other side of the plane. No sky waitresses had come to offer us peanuts. We seemed and felt effectively isolated in our little row.

She took the blanket and wrapped the left side around herself, leaving the right open for me to snuggle against her. I took one of the other blankets, mirroring her, so we had a good layer of cloth where we were covered. I hugged her close, feeling the warmth building.

“Put your hand on my stomach,” she beckoned, and I felt bare flesh where she had lifted her t-shirt. “Shhh,” she warned, and craned around to kiss me. As she turned her head back towards the window, my hand slid up her smooth, flat stomach, I came to the hard ribs that stood out, rippling, and above—Oh, wonders! A gentle swelling of soft flesh topped by her small, rubbery nipple!

“Ohh-hh!” I shuddered.

“Quietly, gently,” she cooed. her eyes half-lidded.

I kissed her long swan neck, and she swooned back into me. She was right, she hadn’t grown breasts, at least nothing even close to the swelling, firm buckets of flesh in my Dad’s magazines. But here I was, with my love, who trusted me and loved me back, and her hard, hard nipples gazing against my fingertips. She turned more towards me and I snaked another hand under her shirt. One for each hand.

“You’ll always love me?” she asked, with—a little sob?

“Forever!” I assured her.

“I love you so much!” she said. “I want you so badly.”

“I’ll never leave you,” I promised her. “I can’t imagine anywhere else in the world as magical as here, now, having you in my arms.”

She broke, and pressed even harder into me. I crossed my arms across her chest, right hand, left breast, etc. “I want to be yours forever! I don’t want anyone to take you from me. I know boys just want to—and then they—” Her voice was catching in her throat.

“I want you,” I admitted. “I never thought I could feel so hungry for someone. You fill me so much that I feel like I’m overflowing all of the time. I never knew that I coud feel so much love. You know how lonely I’ve been. I’m yours! We are one person, now. One heart. One soul.”

Yet even as I said these words I felt a twinge of hypocrisy. A small part of my mind reminded me how I lusted after those ripe and luscious women in the pictures. If Helen had large tits, wouldn’t that be even better? Her heart, her soul, her love—but with big breasts?

“I love you,” I said earnestly, pulling my hands down, and back to myself. “If I have to prove it in any way, I will. I am your knight. I will fulfill any quest. If—” I stumbled, “If you want to keep your virginity until I prove myself...”

She turned quickly to me, eyes wet. “You twit! That’s the last thing I want! A soon as we lock the door to our hotel room, I want you naked and holding me! I want you to have me! It’s—afterwards! What will it mean when when we’re done with that?

“I can’t tell you how many girls I know, how many of my big sister’s friends in college, who have told me that guys just think they’re in love. That once they’ve had you—that’s it! They’re holding you and looking over your shoulder at someone else.”

I sat there, body next to her warm body, staring out the window at the blue sea, flat and unmarked at that height, except by the black shadows of clouds. And the clouds themselves, shocking white, floating above it all. Where was I in my love?

“I don’t know...” I said softly. “I don’t know what’s over the horizon. I’ve been in love before. I’ve always loved girls, since I was a little boy in school. Until I was twelve I’d always had girl-friends. I always hung around with girls instead of boys. They were always so much more smart and capable and alive. Boys would just hit me. They spent all of their time turning away from the things I loved: Books and stories, making things with my hands, drawing.

“But then it all started to change during middle school. My Dad was always telling me to stand up for myself. In Boy Scouts they used to push me to get my sports badges, and they got me into boxing and hiking. I learned to start hitting back. But the more I smacked people and got smacked, the more I wanted to spend time alone, walking, taking on hills, and then mountains. I’d bicycle for hours to find someplace high to walk, and dream about doing that with my soulmate.

“The girls I used to be friends with were now shy and withdrawn. They teased me for wanting to be near them, and the boys, though they now left me alone, knew I wasn’t like them. I had a few friends, but it always felt like it was more geographic closeness.

“I’ve been in love with girls forever. And when I turned thirteen, my—well—“ I whispered, ashamed. “You’ve felt it. I started getting hard, all the time. You know.” I could feel a blush coming up. “I spent these last few years with a book or a binder in front of my crotch. I mean it doesn’t ever go down!

“And you know my parents. They wanted to know everything. They wanted to tell me everything. I mean, they knew nothing when they were kids. Nobody talked about it. So they wanted to make sure me and Sissy knew it all. Movies and books and baby oil and vibrators—I know they mean well, but it just makes me feel like such freak!”

My eyes met hers again. I could see she was going to let me talk until I was done. “So then, when you moved to town, and you were like a magical princess: slim, and flowing, and beautiful, and brave. And you laugh at my jokes, and love my stories, and—you loved me as much as I love you. This year has been, as close to real magic as I can imagine. And if magic, like you, is real, then why would I ever give that up?

“I don’t know what will happen in the future. I only know my past was so horribly lonely, but the present, ever since I met you, has only been better and better each day. I know most high school romances don’t go on, but some must make it. Why can’t ours be the one?” I was spent.

“I want it to be.” Her blue eyes were deep and damp. “If we have true love, we’ll be the ones to make it,” she closed her eyes and leaned into me. Our mouths opened again, and my hands lay on top of her shirt, back onto her nipples. They were hard little bumps under the cloth. “Oh, we are so past that,” she giggled, and raised the shirt upwards until my hands stroked her skin.

A thousand years crawled by aboard the plane as we made out, and the heat of actually touching her breasts was going to be too much for me. I explained to sweet Helen that I was going to have to go to the bathroom, or I would come in my pants.

She was shocked, and her white ears pinked. “Really? I—should I—Can I help you? What about later? Will we be able to—”

“I’ll be able to. No—don’t touch me. I’ll be right back!” As we were near the front of the plane, I moved forward. I was trying to walk with my hard on stretched down my leg. God, why did I have to wear jeans? They hurt! No, but if they were sweats or shorts I would be poking forward. What if there was someone in there?

I’d kept my eyes to the ground, unwilling to make eye contact. The plane was roaringly silent between the sound of my blood and the engines. Occupied! The red light shattered my hopes of making this easy. As I watched the door, trying to think of ice water and yetis (the most unsexy thing I could imagine) The door of the bathroom started thumping lightly from inside. Then the thumping grew heavier as it started to bow outwards rhythmically. Bang, bang, bang.

One of the stews was making her way forward, and I was going to point it out to her. She glanced at me briefly, passing a bit closer than she needed. “Sorry. Cock—pit,” she mumbled. I thought she looked a bit flushed.

The door had stopped thumping, and there was a low keening. After a moment more there was a flush, and a man slipped out. The door slid shut behind him, and the red light stayed on. “Sorry kid,” he muttered and made his way back down the aisle. I looked around for the first time at the people behind me. They all seemed to be itchy or restless or something. There were some people making out as desperately as Helen and I had been, and it brought it all back to me.

A second flush came from the bathroom, followed by a spritz of water, and door opened on tall black-haired woman, who winked at me quickly and trotted down the aisle after the man.

I stepped into the tiny gray room, and closed the door. As the smell of bodies hit me, the coin dropped. Ew! God, they’d been—I was immediately disgusted and my pants and underwear dropped at the same time. Oh, jeez it hurt and felt fabulous as my hand went around my thick cock. I pulled myself firmly and gently, it felt sooo good. I closed my eyes on all of that dark gray plastic and imagined Helen, her hard little nipples, her blonde hair, the taste of her amazing mouth and tongue, and how soon we would be—

Whoosh! I could actually hear the cum shooting out of me. It kept coming. I grunted and continued pulling, trying to keep my hand away from the sticky white goo I could feel rushing out of my balls. Ohh, still good, almost done. My face was twitching reflexively. My left hand was holding me up against the wall as I aimed downwards towards the little flap in the bottom of the toilet.

Suddenly, the plane bucked and shook. I heard the bing of the return to seat warning. I felt a drop as the plane dipped. But then as quickly as it began, the plane levelled out, and the light binged off. I opened my eyes, and saw that my aim was a bit off. I’d cum not only in the little metal bowl where I was aiming, but all over the back of the seat and onto the walls.

The intercom came on. “Sorry about that folks,” the pilot said in his warm voice. “We had some bumping and turbulence in here, uh, up here.” there was a giggle and chuckle from some other voices with him. “Anyway, I think it’s, um, blown, over and we’ll be at our destination in about 45 minutes.”

I cursed him for ruining my aim, and gathered up some paper towels to wipe my spunk off the walls. 45 minutes, maybe an hour or two. I’d be in the hotel with my beautiful girlfriend.

As I opened the door to the restroom, the stewardess opened the cockpit. She looked over her shoulder at the two pilots and stuck her rear-end towards them. There were two smacks against her butt, as she closed the door and confidently walked past me to the back of the plane. As I stepped away from the door, there was a scurrying as a couple stepped around and past me into the toilet. I didn’t want to know.

I slipped back in next to Helen and buckled up. “My parent’s are right,” I said. “I don’t know how kids don’t see it. The world is filled with adults having sex constantly. Everyone over 17 is fucking all—the—time!”

The islands are hot. The air is wet. Stepping out of the airport felt like being misted with warm, orchid-scented bath water. By the time we stepped into our room we had been warmed and chilled a half-dozen times by the alternation of real and conditioned air. The air-conditioner in our room was chugging like a little diesel boat, and the noise was almost enough to drown out the traffic noise from the street. The view, however, was exquisite, looking up and down the beach and out to sea. I don’t know how we lucked out on that. As we stepped out onto the balcony (back into the wet clinging breeze) the looming mass of an extinct volcano was visible off to our left. The long curl of hotels hanging onto the eroding beach stretched off to the right.

She nestled backwards into my arms as we both stared out at the ocean. I felt like one of those pictures you see in magazines of a perfect couple gazing romantically out to sea. The sun was just past noon, although we had been flying for too many hours. By mutual, unspoken agreement we turned our heads and kissed, as my hands slid up under her shirt. We stepped back into the room and closed the sliding glass door. An oblong of sunlight on the carpet lit the room with a blueish light. I lifted her shirt over her head exposing the glittering white skin of her torso, punctuated only by her dark pink nipples. I kissed the left, then the right, feeling them swell even harder.

Undoing my shirt, she ran her hands through the thick hair on my chest that had been sprouting recently. She dipped her head kissing my nipples causing them to tighten. “I’m sorry, they’ve been growing a ring of hair around them lately,” I explained.

“Shush,” she warned. “If we start talking about the problems with our bodies we’ll never get started. You’re beautiful. Shut up before I bite you.”

“I’ve never seen anything so lovely,” I countered, then saw the look in her eye. “Shutting up.”

Her fingers fumbled at my belt, so I reached down, letting her undo her own pants. She skivvied down to her underwear, and stepped out of her sandals. Like an idiot, I’d worn sneakers, and had to waddle over to the bed to unlace them from under my jeans. Maybe it was ok I’d done that, as it meant turning away from her so she wouldn’t see my penis pushing out against my undies. I knew my self-relief in the plane wasn’t going to be a problem for us.

I kicked my pants and shoes off to the side, trying to do a silly-suave Inspector Clouseau. She reached down and held my hands as I stood. She reached around to hold me close. “I don’t think this will work,” I explained, looking down at the lump in my pants taking up space between us. I reached down and pulled them off freeing my steel-hard rod. “I guess—” I reached down and stood it up between our stomachs, pulling her tight. “Until we—Where do we put it until then?”

“I never thought about it,” she said, wriggling against me nervously, feeling it wiggling. We kissed and held each other close until we calmed back down.

Nuzzling her nose, I asked, “Can I see—”

“Sure.” She bent her knees, pulling down her pastel purple undies, and stepping out of them. She looked down. “Wow, it’s, um, big.... I guess it’ll mostly—” She reached out and stroked it’s length. My eyes closed at the touch of her fingertips.

“I’m sorry! Does it hurt?” She pulled her hand back.

“No. No it’s good. different from my own hand. Your touch is so soft and delicate. No, it’s good! It feels so very good!”

I looked down at the delicate V of where her legs came together. There was a very soft cloud of downy hair, lighter than honey. So different from the thick, dark, red-brown curls that bunched up around my cock. Her hair seemed to float off her skin. She reached down and softly scratched herself, puffing it outwards. “I’ve been in those tight pants forever!” she explained. There was a dark black line bisecting the tight folds. She exhaled softly. “What do you think?”

“I guess, everything I’ve seen has been airbrushed, like in Playboy, or in the movies, they’re always like—y’know—spla all over the place. ‘Oh, Mr. Butcher, I forgot my purse—and my pants, where should we put that sausage? Boom! I mean, they’re all ready to go. But, I don’t know. Do you touch yourself? I was told guys are just always on, but women have to stroke themselves. Or I’m supposed to lick you and kiss you.”

She looked at me with, not confusion, but, I don’t know, dread? “I think—” she began. “Let me use the bathroom.”

“Okay.” I watched her as she walked quickly to the bathroom, turned on the lights and fan and closed the door. There was a click as it locked.

I looked around the room, and stepped over to our suitcases, my erect cock banging and flopping around like a stunned fish. I put them in the closet, adjusted the air conditioning, tidied up the remains of our clothes, and adjusted the air again.

I’d blown it. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I sounded so stupid. I got nervous and my mouth ran off. I mean who wants to be compared to the hookers in the movies? I turned down the bed. I was starting to deflate, and when that happened, my bladder usually took that as a signal that it was its turn to use the track. I climbed into bed to stay warm. Oh, hell, now I really needed to go. I climbed back out of bed and tapped on the door.

“Helen. Sweetie? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Sweetie? It’s just—I get scared, I start to babble. Whatever I said, I apologize. I’ll just shut up now.”

“I’m okay.” She said on the other side, gulping. “Just—just give me a few more minutes, okay?”

“Sure love. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. I just need to have a few more minutes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I sat back on the end of the bed. I wondered if I peed off the balcony if it would, like, break up and drift away. I got my book out of my bag. I also got out the lubricant and condoms I’d been given. My parent’s had also given me a hand vibrator, but I left that in the bag. Better not to leave the supplies on the table—I put them in the dresser. Maybe if I put my clothes back on I could use the bathroom in the lobby. But then when she came out and I wasn’t there—

I tapped again. “Sweetie? I love you so much. I don’t want to be a jerk, but I really need to go myself. What do you want? Should I pass your clothes in?”

There was a long silence, followed by a click as the door unlocked. She looked downwards as she passed. I slipped in and closed the door. Too dark! I turned on the light, and the fan started humming. I lifted the seat and unloaded my bladder. The thick yellow stream foamed as it hit the water of the bowl. I always wondered why it did that, foaming up. And I remembered how I always wondered what it was like for girls who don’t watch themselves pee constantly. I guess it means nothing to them, like breathing.

I sighed in relief and flushed the toilet. I realized I had to put it down while we were together. Would we be together? I washed my hands. Then what? Should I wash my cock? Like wash it inside? Or just dab at it with a piece of toilet paper like girls do. I unrolled some paper and opened the hole at the end. I dabbed a tiny drop out of it, and put it in the toilet. I guessed I better wash again.

I put my hand on the knob. Now what? Step out? Wrap a towel around myself? She’s seen a naked boy before, I mean she’s got a little brother. And she’s seen me naked just now! I mean, hopefully she’s going to see my cock close up when she sucks on—stupid, stupid! Shut up brain!

I exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist. I’d wrapped another under my armpits, and draped a third over my shoulders and down my arms. The final towel I put on my head, wrapping it around my face. For good measure I’d taken the washcloths and put them on my feet.

As I shuffled into the center of the room, I announced, “If you want to sock me, aim for the middle. I’m most padded there.” She was sitting on the bed.

On the end of the bed. She laughed. “What are you doing?”

“I am the Sheik of Araby, and I am looking for a naked white girl for my collection. Ah, here’s one!” I bent and grabbed her around the middle throwing her over my shoulder. Skinny, hell yeah, but she was tall and heavy!

I walked over to the mirror. “Ah yes, what a nice white ass! Very cute.” I slap-patted it.

She lifted the back of my towel. “And yours is all hairy!”

“The better for riding camels, my dear.” The towel came undone and she dropped it to the floor.

“Oops.” She slapped me, a lot harder than I did her. “Ooh, nice and hard. That riding must help.”

I walked her back to the bed and flung her down onto it. She bounced, and was limbs akimbo. Oh god. All at once I hardened and it stood up pointing at her. He legs were open, and the little lips along the line of her privates looked ripe and sweet. She was ripe and sweet, and her chest rose and fell as she looked at me.

I tore off the rest of the towels and approached her on my hands and knees. We kissed lightly as I ran my hand down her side. “I don’t want to hurt you, in any way,” I whispered, staring into her ice-bright eyes.

“Slowly,"“she said. “Touch me delicately.”

And so I did, running my fingers along her body. her skin was exquisite, beyond anything I’d imagined. Soft and warm, nearly hairless. She had a few strands under her arms which were feathery pink gold, and her body smelled clean and fresh. We kissed, again and again, lightly but moist. Her fingers played over me and I felt transported. I’d never felt anything so good in my life.

And then her tongue left my mouth and she began to lick along my jaw line and under my ear. “Ho,” I moaned. Here was a next level beyond anything else. She gradually began kissing me up and down my neck, and I had no choice but to start kissing and licking her shoulders. Well she shouldn’t have started it!

A war of pleasure was on. The rules quickly wrote themselves. Lips, fingers, tongues on each other, no rubbing or touching ourselves, No grabbing genitals, nipple licks were special weapons to be deployed carefully. I controlled the skies, landing touches from above, Helen had the ground forces, attacking from below. Slowly we roiled against each other, launching strikes against ribs, down the bellies, and even had some navel encounters. I made a sortie onto her back from around her stomach, lifting her slightly to find her spine. She rolled with the attack, sitting up to press her warm front onto me. retaking my mouth with hers, and digging her long, strong fingers into my shoulder blades.

It proved to be a tactical error, as her nipples were pressed into me, and I could feel that they were in fact exposed on a hill of soft breast— Not enough to hang into roundness, but a rising nevertheless. Our battle had made the little she had swell. I telegraphed my blow a bit by reaching to touch them, and then quickly attacked with my mouth, sucking the left one, tonguing the hard pink bunker. Her concentration broke and scattered, and a cry, part moan, part squeak escaped. I continued to strike my advantage, until, feeling her rally, I shifted to the other side.

But the element of surprise was gone. She continued to gather her strength, stroking her hands through my hair, holding my head. She sighed and lifted me to her mouth. I’d won that battle. But she needed to retreat to recover.

The room had reached an optimum body temperature. We were just cool enough not to be sweating, but warm enough not to need wrapping. She rose from the bed, and bade me to as well. there was fire in her eyes now. This was the Helen I loved, the fighter who wouldn’t let anyone get the better of her, the passionate, the fierce, the deep. Grabbing the rumpled covers she flung the blankets and top sheet onto the floor, leaving a clean white battlefield.

“Our canvas,” she explained. “Let’s paint this moment in love.”

Obviously she was following a different metaphor than I was.

She arranged herself as an odalisque painting. laying 3/4 view on the bed, her upper half propped against pillows, one hand hand artfully arranged near her head, fingers curled lightly. Her other arm draping down to fall like water between ribs and navel. Her lower leg on the bed reached along down, bending back at the knee, while the other leg, also bent, rose upwards, came down foot flat on the bed. Her open legs exposed the valley of heaven.

The light in the room made her translucent skin shine. I still saw her as a landscape where I could strafe my tongue into the hollows and attack her with pleasure.

I bent forward to kiss her, then began a close examination of her artwork. I painted her with my breath, very occasionally applying a stroke of my tongue. “This work is so fine,” I explained, “It just needs the occasional touch.” I caressed her with the air above my fingers.

“Ah, but here...” I came to her sweet join, staring at the folds in wonder. “Here is a masterpiece.” I stroked the hair gently, applying no pressure to her skin, but then stroked down onto her thighs, one side along, then the other up coming back again and again to touch her hair. “So fine, so delicate. Framed here perfectly with alabaster.”

I had no choice but to begin laying kisses inside of her thighs. It was so hard to be gentle. I so wanted to lay her flat, and drive my tongue into her, as I had seen in those damn films. I wanted to fuck her with my tongue and suck on that bump, and have her scream and shriek and roll on the bed until she begged me to fuck her. And then I wouldn’t until she sucked on my cock all the way down into her mouth. Only then I would fuck her from behind until she begged me to come on her ass. But I wouldn’t, I’d just keep fucking her until we both came and came.

Instead I gently placed kiss after kiss between her thighs, along her shiny white legs.

Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing softly. I took my eyes off her snatch to look at her beatific face. God I loved her. Gently I stoked her delicate hair, applying now the smallest pressure to her skin. “Tell me how this feels,” I asked.

“Good, good,” she sighed. “Amazing.”

“I don’t want anything to hurt. Tell me, love,” I implored.

“Yes.”

She lay on her back, stretched in her spine, and somehow rolled her hips upwards while spreading her legs and raising her knees. She was feline in her grace.

That small black line that had hidden such mysteries when she was scared earlier had somehow opened and opened into a beautiful valley with its own geography. Here her lips came together, yes, but they were defined and full. The line now descended further, down and backwards into the split of her bottom.

I touched the two swelling sides, The outer lips I guessed, and they parted gently for me. I stroked them like soft cushions And gradually, so gradually, they pulled themselves aside, revealing what I guessed were her inner lips.

She was making little sounds and I kept checking with her, “Is this good? Is this good?”

“Yes, yes, yes! It’s just—don’t worry! I’ll tell you if its—ohh—too much.”

I touched her with the tip of my tongue. It was somehow rubbery, but nice. She kept squeaking. As I continued to lick her softly, there was less room for my hands. I slid my arms under her legs and pulled her forward. turning her up even more, her sweet white bottom rolling up into my chest.

I gradually laid in more licking and less kissing, pressing her inner and outer lips with my tongue. She had somehow opened even more, and there was a depression in the back of her groove. I guess I expected it to be more of a—well—a hole. I mean—

No time for over-thinking! Forward man!

I slid my tongue forward and backwards, gradually pushing in as I went back. She was wet! As I slid my tongue a bit in I could taste her. This is what wetness was!

It was... it was like—Goh, I dunno. Strong, that’s for sure, and kind of forest-y, animal-y. But man, was she loving it. I continued licking as she squirmed.

I raised my head a bit. “I’m going to press my tongue in. I’ll go as gently as I can. Tell me if anything hurts.”

“Ok...” she breathed. And as gently as I could I began to press it forward, trying to follow the opening. I think I have a narrow tongue, and I sure hoped so for her sake. I don’t think I can describe the anatomy. It sloped downward into her, there were fiddly bits towards her bottom end that gradually opened up, and then just layers of...her. I slid it in and out of her, never withdrawing completely. I’d gone past the fact that I had my tongue buried deep inside of my love, and was just examining.

I slowly pulled all the way out and sat up. “How are you?”

“Okay I guess. It’s weird. Being inside of me. I mean when you were licking me, I thought I was going to die, it felt so good. But the tongue inside is—weird. I can’t explain it.

“Can you-can you do me a favor?” she continued.

“Name it.”

“Slide your tongue back into me, get a good taste, and then come up to my mouth.”

“Okay!” I slid down to vagina again. Her request stiffened me up again, when I hadn’t realized I was getting soft.

“I don’t think it’s—whoo! Yeah, like that—It’s not fair for you to lick me if it tastes weird.”

“Ooo tase fime,” I told her. I made my way back up and slid my tongue into her mouth. She sucked at it, then licked the wetness off my lips.

“That’s—is that okay for you?” she asked.

“I think so,” I told her. “I like to make you squirm. I think it will be great.”

She sat contemplating for a moment and stroked my chest.

“You know, I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to supposed to taste,” I informed her. “I think that’s only half the flavor.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think when we’re done, you’ll need to try our two flavors mixed.” I paused for a moment. “I know I want to.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed. “We’ll clean each other, like cats.” And we kissed on the deal.

“Did you—did you feel my hymen?” she wrapped her arms around me, and we pressed together.

“Uhh, I don’t think so. Did it hurt?”

“No, just tight. Am I still—y’know, a virgin you think?”

“I guess not. I mean, I think that’s just like being entered. Have you ever put your fingers inside?”

“No! I’ve just rubbed the outside a bit. Well, a lot. But I’ve used tampons plenty of times, and I get checked at the doctor’s.”

I was confused. “Then what does virginity mean? I always thought it was entering.”

“But boys are called virgins until they have sex.”

“I guess I’ve been having sex with my hand for the last four years. And with the occasional sock.”

She laughed. “You lost your virginity to a sock?”

“Better than a tampon, I guess.”

“Don’t be grumpy. We’re experiencing our first time together. That’s that.”

“Well, I’m still—” I gestured down to my still thick cock.

“My turn then,” she said. “Lay back.”

I lay on my back, and the length of my cock flopped against my stomach. I was never the sort to take showers at the gym, being too embarrassed, but I’ve always assumed I was normally sized. My cock reached to my navel, and that had always seemed appropriate. Like If I was god, that’s how long I’d make ‘em on average, geometrically speaking. Again with just movies to go by, I kind of assumed they hired horses, the way the also hired women with tits that looked like hard volley balls.

She stroked it gently on the underside, and I sighed. She gently rubbed her fingers through the piles of hair surrounding it. “There’s so much, and It’s so curly.”

“I assume you mean my hair.” I chuckled.

She gave me the eye, and acted exasperated. “Yes, this is a lot of meat hanging between your legs, and you better be nice if you want me to do anything with it. But what’s all this hair like? Does it itch?”

“Only when it grows back after I shave it off. Kidding.”

She ran her hands downwards through my hair, lifting me up straight to do so. “It seems so odd to see this here, to touch it. When I run my hands downward I’m just a smooth slide until I touch myself. But you’ve got this—”

“Massive, godlike cock.”

“This,” she shook it, “big hard tube in the middle, with a squishy clown nose at the end. And this—well these—balls? Testicles?”

“Well, the cocks not always hard, and the skin of my, well scrotum sounds like such a stupid word. But ‘ball-sack’ sounds even worse. Anyway, when it gets hot in the summer time the skin spreads out to let out heat, and sticks to my legs. And during the winter, they get small and the skin is all tight and wrinkly, like brains. But it’s always nice to scratch.”

“Like this,” she said, drawing her fingers lightly over the skin.

“Ooh! No that actually feels—erotic. Like this.” And reaching down I gave them a manly clawing. “Kind of like a bear scratching his back. Or when you rub your eyes and it feels nice.”

“Hah! You know, girls get itchy too. It’s probably the same.” She went back to flopping my cock. “How about this. Does it get hard when you pee?”

“Sometimes. Especially in the morning. I think that’s when I first started noticing my erections.”

She leaned over close to it, and without ceremony licked up the side of it.

I yeeked out a screech and jumped. It felt like a live electrical cord had been plugged in underneath my nuts.

“Oh my god, are you okay.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said shuddering down onto the bed. “Give me some warning!”

“Sorry. Okay, lover, sorry. I’ll try again more gently.” She leaned forward and kissed the head. She checked I was okay, then kissed it again. It actually didn’t feel like much.

She began to kiss very gently up and down the sides, along the underside. I closed my eyes momentarily, sighing. This felt good, the little wetnesses drying cooly.

“Licking now,” she informed me, the tip of her tongue lightly glided upwards. It wasn’t as strong as before, but was still massively intense, especially on the underside. The sight of her, catlike, very slowly licking my cock was so erotic I couldn’t believe it. I realized I was starting to shiver.

She looked me directly in the eyes, her icy blue eyes excited by what she couldn’t believe she was doing. “I’m going to put it in my mouth now.”

She slid her fingers under my cock and lifted it up straight. She kissed the tip of it, then opened her mouth to slide it inside. She took a little suck, sending me back up the electrical pole, and then swirled it around her mouth.

“Aggh!” I shouted. “Too much, too much!” It was probably the strongest feeling I’d ever felt.

She popped it out. “Are you okay? Are you going to come?”

“No! No! It’s just—I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Was it good?”

“It was—intense! Like finding your worst tickle spot and then stroking it with a wet feather.”

“Like along my stomach.” One day at the beach we’d found a spot where her hip met her stomach that was out of bounds.

We looked at each other. “If that’s a blowjob....”

I sat up and hugged her close again. I’d been taken through he wringer so far today, and we still hadn’t ‘had sex.’ She was feeling the same thing.

The patch of sunlight had moved across the floor and was covering the blankets. I grabbed the sheet, and pulled her back down with me, covering us both. With my cock back between out stomachs we held each other and went back to kissing. She rubbed my back, and I reached around and grabbed her small white bottom.

“Mmm,” she said into my mouth. “That feel nice, spreading my butt apart. I’m kind of sweaty back there.” She reached down and lifted my cheeks apart. I hadn’t realized I was getting warm, and it really did feel good to have cool air against my back hole.

Kissing some more I kneaded her ass, as she did mine. Finally, I withdrew my hand and grabbing her shoulder, rolled her onto her back. My fingers touched her between her legs, and she spread them apart so that I had to scooch to the side.

I stroked, her, and she was really, really wet. At the top of her valley was a hardened bit that I assumed was her clit. Gathering some of her juices I stroked it from one side, and then the other. She squirmed at my touch, but didn’t complain, so I kept going on.

She was spread wide, and I could feel every slippery fold, every ripple in her lips, the delicate tent over her clit. I rubbed it firmly, like I would my own cock, and she drew in her breath. “Softer, softer.” I rewet my fingers, and stroked it with the back of my nails, being careful not to ever catch an edge. She felt so good, and it was so magical to have her writhing at my touch. Gathering a bit more wetness, I stroked her lips, and then we licked them off.

“I’m going to mount you now, my beloved,” I informed her. I slid over her leg and placed the base of my cock against her clit. She stroked me, and the dry touch was nowhere as intense as her wet sucking.

I dragged it downwards, but couldn’t figure out where it went. I kept touching her too high. “Here, let me get it,” she said, grasping my length, and then placing it to just the right spot. “Now slide it forward, slowly... ow, ow! No, don’t back up, it’s just tight. Slowly.”

And as I felt the head of my cock, so overly wound tight, slide a bit at a time into her, I felt the bubble of joy in my chest burst. “Helen!” I called out.

“Oh! Slowly in. Ow! I love you.” my cock slid the rest of the way into her, and my groin pressed up against hers.

“How does it feel?” I asked.

“Well, I’m not a virgin any more!,” she barked, half-laughingly. “I definitely felt it tear. Umm, but it feels good to have you against me. You’re inside of me!” She laughed again and rubbed her hips forward. “It feels interesting. Try sliding in and out.”

It did feel good. “It’s like you’re holding me completely,” I explained. “Oh, god, yes. Each time I’m in I want the feeling of sliding out, and when I’m out a bit—” I grunted. “I just want to be all the way in again.”

We groaned together as we slid back and forth. Then suddenly, before I knew it—

“I’m going to come.”

“Can you hold off?”

“Let me—No, I can’t!”

“Push it all in, I want to see if I can feel it.”

There was a squirting out from myself and I pushed up against her, shaking from the force of it. “Oh, god,” I said. I pressed into her.

“I could feel it. It’s kind of warm inside of me.”

I lay on top of her, gasping. “That was good,” I said. “I can’t say what it’s like. It’s different from when I just use a sock. You’re so much smoother and wetter.”

“I hope so.”

“I’m still very hard,” I explained sliding back out and back in. “I don’t know about you, but I’d love to keep going.”

“Oh, please, a bit longer. It feels nice.”

We looked at each other and continued to kiss as I slid in and out of her. She sighed contentedly and stretched herself as I established a rhythm.

“I can’t believe we’re having sex,” she said.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to do this for the rest of my life.”

“We could have room service bring the food to the bedside. We could feed each other.”

“Yessss.”

We kissed each other and made love for the next thirty years, drifting along in a spell. Finally a volcano erupted, covering us in molten lava, and we made love in the center of the earth, our rhythm turning the years. Finally, as the sun burnt away the planet from around us we ascended into space.

“I think I’m going to come again,” I explained.

“Fuck it into me,” she whispered. I erupted again.

This time I could feel myself getting soft. We could feel the edges of drowsiness starting to overtake us.

“I’m going to climb off, now.”

“Put it in my mouth. I’ll try to just hold it there. I want to taste us.”

I somnolently put my head between her legs. “There’s just a few spots of blood.”

“I’ve bitten my lip before. I’m not afraid.”

“Put this leg over my shoulder.”

“That feels good. This tastes good. I want to end like this next time.”

“Try sucking a little bit. Ooohm, that’s nice. You taste perfect now. I knew I’d love licking your sweat.”

Sometime later that afternoon we awoke long enough to hold each other and press our faces together.

Some hours after that she rolled on top of me and began lifting her hips up and down while she cradled me inside of her sweet cunt. (There, I meant that word, and it was beautiful, describing her sweetness.) I think she came for her first time ever. She straddled my face and I licked her out as she rested her cheek on my hip and suckled on me.

When we finally staggered onto the street, it was noisy with people strolling, barkers inviting us in, and taxis racing up and down. We found a chain restaurant we’d never heard of, Loopy’s, and took a booth, where we cuddled together, exhausted.

“I can’t imagine why I’m tired,” I said. “We’ve been asleep for hours.”

“It must be 2 am at home,” she explained. “What is it here, 9, 10?”

“We never called home,” I realized.

“I’m not,” she said defiantly. “They know our plane landed safely. We’ll be on the one home, or we won’t.”

“Let’s stay,” I agreed. “I’ll get a job delivering bananas, and you can pick coconuts.”

“We’ll take art classes at night, and paint sunsets to go over couches.”

“We’ll be the King and Queen of the sunset set. We might even branch into sunrises for bathrooms.”

“Moonrises would be more appropriate.”

In a moment we were back at kissing again. When we surfaced there were menus in front of us.

We ordered an omelet, a double order of hash browns, a fried chicken salad, french fries, and a large sundae. Until our paintings sold we had to live off the travelers checks our parents had doled out to us.

Somehow it was possible to squeeze in one more set before we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

And that set the rhythm for most of our trip. Wake up, make love, go to out for breakfast or a swim, come back and have sex, go out again, figure out how to fuck (or at least touch each other) outside, and make love again before falling asleep. More than once we surprised each other in the middle of the night, as dreams of love woke us, and our bodies did the rest.

One night, as I lay dreaming, I had a sense of dream deja vu. I get it sometimes, when I recognize a place I’ve dreamed about before, but don’t know in my waking life. As if my waking mind and dreaming mind have parallel sets of memories.

I’ve never been to the islands before. Every place Helen I explored was a revelation. But in my dream, I remembered taking a limo from the airport. I remembered all the details of the luxury hotel at the end of the tourist strip, of the view of the beach from the penthouse, the volcano and the ocean beyond it. I remembered the days I spent, sitting on a chair, looking out at the view, and hearing the door open all day, when woman after woman entered the room, took off their clothing, and sat on my lap, impaling themselves upon my hard cock until we came. I remembered that I had forgotten it all. A succession of women, each lovely and naked when they took me, each more beautiful as they left.

Helen shook me awake, kissing me as I regained consciousness. the dream fled, and with her touch, all I remembered were certain architectural details of a luxury hotel lobby which turned out to be accurate when, on a whim, I dragged her in there one morning. I couldn’t remember why it was important. After that, it was on to a shallow lagoon, where I got my hand under her bikini, and stroked her bottom.

Over the week we tried it from every angle and position we could think of, every place we could imagine. We snuck away during the native cookout and learned why beaches are a terrible place to screw. We also learned that salt water is not a lubricant, but saliva is great. There isn’t enough time in an elevator ride to unzip let alone get it out. Showers are fun if you’re careful about not getting soap anywhere you want to lick. What else? If you get a seat in the back of the submarine ride and use a towel a gal can get it in while sitting on your lap. The only place in an art museum safe enough to be blown is the boy’s bathroom. Balconies are fine, so long as you don’t mind seeing the other people who are doing it as well. And deserted jungle paths are never quite as deserted as you think.

As we flew back, we were even able to join the mile-high club.

During all of this I don’t know whether we were lucky, or whether those people who knew what we were doing were just really, really indulgent. I mean if adults are doing it like rabbits all the time, we must have fit right in. Often enough I seemed to catch people just on the edge of it themselves. Everywhere we looked people were nudging and rubbing each other. And now we were part of that world.

As we exited the baggage area with our bags, scanning for the bus to take us back to school, I was surprised to see a stunningly beautiful woman, like a Playboy model in a chauffeur uniform carrying a placard with our names. She grinned at me. “Special service for the young couple,” she explained. I couldn’t place her accent, but it wasn’t from around here. “I hope you had a good time.”

As we climbed in the back we held each other in our arms, saddened that our trip was coming to an end. Soon it was back to school and the everyday world.

“I love you,” I told Helen. “I’ll love you forever.”

“I love you too,” she said, snuggling in.

The flight back had taken it’s toll, and we drifted off to sleep.

Something awoke us as we drove through town. How long it had been, we had no idea. We stared at each other, remembering our vacation, remembering our lives. Our bodies had aged back to how they had been before. Our hair was graying and skin crinkling once again. But Helen’s skin had tightened, and she would never have cancer.

“It’s not that I didn’t have feelings for you,” she explained. “Of course I did. But at that age you have so many feelings. Back then I loved Greg so much, but it also made me jealous to watch you and Wendy kissing.”

“And it’s not like I disliked Greg in any way. I admired him! I just loved you.”

“I have to laugh at the irony of the situation back then,” she said. “You had no way of knowing. Before I met Greg, I’d had another boyfriend named Mark. He was the boy I’d first made love to in college. I loved him more than he loved me. We’d met again a few weeks before you came to me. He was trying to woo me again, and I almost left Greg for him. It tore my heart out, but I chose Greg. And then when you came along.... I was actually very mad.”

“I remember.”

“Now I have—we have this—thing between us.” she waved her hand in the air. “Mark wasn’t as gentle. There was the passion, but it was rough and nasty. This was sweet. I’m not sure how many of my feelings are things you’re putting into my head now....”

“As part of my natural defenses, people won’t hurt me. But other than that I’m not doing anything.”

“Mmm. I’m not sure if I want to see you again.”

My heart crumpled. “Fair enough,” I said evenly.

“But I can’t say it was a bad thing. You haven’t been married. You don’t know what it’s like. When you live with someone forever you can love them so much you want to bust out in butterflies, and then the next minute you’ll see a jar in the fridge with the lid off and be looking for the longest knife.

“I love Greg, and some days I love the children more. But occasionally you feel you’re drowning in the day-to-dayness of the whole thing. It’s hard to hate something that comes as a break. Something that helps you see what you love from a new angle.”

I was earnest as I spoke. “I hope I was able to give you that. I feel like a part of me that wasn’t set right, like a bone set wrong, now fits.”

She shrugged slightly. “Actually, I don’t care what you feel. That’s pretty harsh, but it’s true. We used each other, and I won’t deny I had a good time, but right now I don’t have any feelings for you, for or against.”

“That—makes it sound like a transaction.”

“It was. Isn’t that what you meant it to be?”

We arrived at her house, and I helped her get her bags out. She gave me a peck on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said politely but without warmth, and opened the door.

Calls of “Mommy! Mommy!” burst out as she went inside.

Kara held the door open for me, then climbed in herself.

“How was your time?” I asked her, before she could say anything.

“Great! It was nice to think I had children and a loving husband. A very loving husband. We rode all of the rides, ate together, watched TV. I’m going to miss it.”

“I’m not holding you back. I never hold any of the women back. I could give you a life like hers if that’s what you want.”

“And leave show business?” She laughed. “No, you could give it to me, but that’s not as nice as earning it. Maybe one day, when I’m ready to settle down I will find a rich old capitalist with a mistress and pool-boy and raise some children of my own. But for now—” she turned towards me, “just point me, open me up, and drive me.”