Date: Thu, 25 Jun 2009 14:28:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: ba9ba9goodman@yahoo.com
Subject: "A Professional Visit" (parts 1 and 2)

    Her tight black jersey was long-sleeved. The low-cut neck line was
circled by tiny embroidered leaf and flower forms. Her breasts, shaped as
perfect as could be, were proportioned slightly larger than you'd expect
for an adolescent. They looked ready to suckle. The deep cleavage in
between them was on conspicuous, erotic, view. If she was a "type" it was
the gypsy-princess-indian maiden variety, and if on the planet more than
sixteen years it wasn't by very much.

    A sash tied at her waist was also black. It was edged with tiny beads
and had the look of an expensive Madison Avenue boutique. The ends of the
garment flowed down between her supple thighs which were open just a little
too much for a girl freshly past puberty. The garment modestly hid her
pussy from view, but also called attention to it. The black spandex tights
that fit her lower body like glistening second skin revealed the slightest
twitch of the smallest muscle. The sash's woven texture against the slick
spandex set off the beauty of her teenage form exquisitely. I thought I
could feel the cheeks of her small cute ass, which I could see in profile,
pressed against that lucky bench. The general look: school girl casual cool
and though still tasteful a little too erotic for a kid her age.  She
inspired a pornographic poem on the spot:
       "Pussy, sweet pussy--young cunt,
        how I adore you!
           On my mind's tip tongue
         you dwell, always."

I was making a professional visit to a private school with a High
Establishment pedigree, the elite St. James's Institute, whose charter was
granted by the King himself. The massive brownstone and granite buildings
of hoary ecclesiastical style proclaimed solid old wealth while the quality
of the new section impressed just as much.

I stepped inside and smelled the clean smell of money. I was greeted in the
lobby, directed to sign-in, then guided to the proper location. Two other
visiting art teachers and me formed the evaluation team.

We gathered in large and bright working studio made still brighter by its
spaciousness and skylights high overhead. Along the walls the usual art
paraphernalia was neatly arranged and open shelves for work in progress
were now almost empty. Another smell: the energy of young, vibrant bodies
and their creative efforts made a good karma you could practically taste.

On our left about seven or eight students, girls, were seated at table. A
small snack of juice and fruit, rice cakes and nuts had been set out for
them.

We visitors were as much motivated by the prospect of a day off from our
own duties as anything serious and were pleased when our host, from
Connecticut with three of her own children in the school, said she could
spare only an hour with us. Now 9:30, that meant we would virtually have a
whole day off. The weather couldn't be better, we might learn a
professional trick or two and in the bargain even look good to our own
school. Perfect.

The host teacher explained the program. Immediately, my mind began to
wander. All of us were only going through the motions, just the same as the
students, marking off these few days before we all escaped into that golden
reward: Summer. This group, I heard her say, was having it's last class
meeting today, and when I glanced across at them, my limp attention
suddenly perked up! A familiar little spasm passed over me. The group of
ninth or possibly tenth grade girls, 14 or 15 years old, perhaps one or two
a bit older, chatted quietly while they ate. Our task wasn't going to be a
difficult: this was an elite school lacking in nothing, including many
beautiful, sexy girls.

My, my I thought as I regarded each of them briefly, if this be a random
group of girls gathered before me, then there is more beautiful young cunt
in this place then is usual for a private school!  The tight black stretch
pants which hugged lasciviously at all the right curves, and the various
types of tailored shirts, vests or pullovers was the normal outfit for a
New York City private school, but the bodies in them were anything but
routine.

As attractive as all of them were I did not study the whole group very
long. My full attention was sized the moment my eyes fell upon one of them,
seated a little apart from the rest. All were at one table, but the one
girl, this stunner, this incredible sight--she was perhaps 15, not
more--was alone at the next table. She jolted my brain out of its slumber
far better than morning caffeine. Later I was to learn her name was
Bridgit, the subject of this true writing.

Who is this extraordinarily beautiful girl? Where does she come from? Her
parents, are they famous or wealthy--or both? I was in elite-ville after
all. Her presence was faun-like and captured me completely. It was hard for
me to turn my head away yet if I didn't do so soon the others might begin
to notice my enchantment. I was keenly aware that I was the only male in
the room. The sight of her small, tight ass pressed against the bench
excited my imagination. Had any boy yet had the pleasure of knowing the
feel of that cool ass? Had any boy put his lips against those cheeks?
Perhaps another girl? A degree of lesbian play was pretty normal in these
schools. I turned away. I was staring to get a stiff. A firm round young
teenage girl's ass is among the most beautiful objects nature has
fashioned.

By now I should be immune to these alluring young girls. So many of them
had been in my classes over the years, wiggling their ass in my face, their
hard tits high and pushed out, bodies bending, stretching, flexing,
radiating intense sexuality. How could they ever become routine? They were
too breathtaking. And if I did became indifferent to any one of them
(sometimes this did happen), there was always a new group to inspect and
appreciate each September. And inspect I did. Many of my girls were able to
surmise my desire for them and they loved it.

Snap out of it!

We were invited to move on. Quick mental notes: long straight hair, very
dark but not quite black, highlighted beautifully from the skylight
above. Face: innocent pubescent open gaze like in ads in teen
magazines. Body could model thong underwear for the "young miss." Skin:
flawless and fair, the juvenile blood coursing under its surface blushing
it very slightly pink. No blemish of any sort I could see, and her skin
glowed on this spring morning like the sunshine. No make up; maybe a tiny
amount of lip gloss. In tights, her legs looked exquisitely long and
delicious. The profile of her ass was promising. Tits any right thinking
boy would love to suck. Nature: I just stood there in awe that nature could
form so beautiful a creature as this young one whose tender perfection was
almost unbelievable. She was more seductive than I thought one her age
could be. So, unexpected bonus of the trip!

I shouldn't have been surprised. The top tier of New York City private
schools is filled with girls of outstanding looks. The young lasses who
appear in the ads have to go to school somewhere, and schools like this one
is where they are. Most of them know how attractive they are--some have the
model bookings to prove it--and these limber teens dress to emphasize their
bodies. When two or more such sweethearts are in the same classroom at the
same time, I amazed the smoke alarms don't sound off. School girls of this
caliber tend to set up the unofficial but ruling dress code, the only code
that really counts. Skintight black spandex patterned on athletic gear is
the fashion right now. The feeling of sexy nakedness they give is very
seductive.

We adults, more drably attired, moved on to visit the other spaces, I did
something that I realize now was necessary to the delicious series of
events that were to follow this visit. On the way out we passed close to
the students, so, as casually as I could manage I asked about this group of
girls. They were ninth and some tenth grade students. And when I glanced at
her, she was looking directly at me. Our eyes locked for a mere fraction of
a moment. But I got it. I felt it. I held my breath. Then I found myself
out in the hallway. I regretted I got no more than a brief look at this
celestial body. The encounter made me wish for more.

The rest of the tour was uneventful. I went in search of my knapsack down
the passageway from which we entered when I saw her again; saw HER again,
coming toward me. Perhaps fifteen feet separated us. Everything happened
quickly. Closer now, our eyes locked together again. I made my stare fixed
and deliberate this time so she could not mistake my interest. Our looks
seemed to penetrate each other and meld together. She walked directly
toward me, a neutral expression on her face. Her lips were parted. Her
teeth were so white and perfect! The space between us diminished to an arm
length. I couldn't think of anything clever to say! I just held a dumb
grin. We actually had to sway away from each other to avoid a
collision. Her eyes were stunning. I gave a little nod and grin. I put as
much smile into my "hello" as I could. There was a response. I got a smile
in reply, one that was radiant and captivating, a bit shy but also a bit
sly at the same time.

I felt a definite shiver, a little electric thrill, go through me: the look
she gave in reply had contained message, I was certain.

Our gaze remained fixed a moment longer. I glanced away and for a fraction
of a second my eyes swept down along her small body: nice sized tits, flat
tummy, and legs that were long and perfectly proportioned. And where they
met, a nice tasty "v" shape in spandex. She was about five foot seven,
maybe one hundred-and-ten or so pounds of beautifully formed adolescent
girl. I thought I could smell her clean pussy.

Speak. What? Say something. Eh...Ahh...

But now it was too late. She was gone

I searched for the other teachers as I mused on this little sweet event,
and the meaning of her look. As far as I could tell, this is what her
darling eyes said, more or less: "I know you were looking at me. I like to
be looked at. If we were alone together I might let you touch me."

The chance to actually speak to her, whoever she was, and her
response--however short and accidental, was all I needed to melt into a
revelry of lust. Stupid me! I should have kept my head and had the presence
of mind to ask her some innocent question--anything to delay her, to remain
with her longer, even a moment. Later, as I thought back on the assured way
she responded to my greeting, and the sensual look in her eyes, I
reproached myself even more.

My tongue might have been dumb, but not my body. I could feel my cock grow
longer in my shorts and my balls tighten and tingle. That familiar feeling
of pure lust was on me again. Yes, how nice it would be to put it in her
mouth. How delightful to bend her over the arm of a chair and lick her cute
little ass. She would whimper and moan with such pleasure! How tender and
sweet and how utterly impossible! In perhaps just another six months she
would be a woman. Perhaps Johnny or Joey would wet his finger and work it
deep into her virgin pussy and she, so willing for this new exploration,
her legs spread wide, would throw her head back, ready for her first
cock. Why couldn't I be the first to show her? I would be more gentle and
careful. I would be more dirty. Certainly dirty! Dirty old man!

I finally found my knapsack and I left the premises high and light in the
head, invigorated by all that had happened.

Her effect lingered around the edges of my mind for the rest of the day. At
certain moments her image would pop into my mind and distract me. There are
many, many attractive young girls in the City. But let's face it, nature
doesn't always get everything just right: a girl with a beautiful face
might have a flat ass; a girl with a luscious ass may have no tits; the one
with a beautiful ass and perfect breasts could have a disappointing
face. But not her. No darling, nature put it all together perfectly for
you.

Not until I reached home in late afternoon was able to reestablish more
normal bearings. Unpacking my book bag, yet again I mused on the
difficulties of being a teacher when one wants to fuck so many of one's
students. But my mood remained light and buoyant. The day was still
glorious and everyone I encountered reflected the blossoming season.  Then,
I noticed it. A pink piece of paper, folded into a crude triangle, fell out
of my bookbag. I can't explain why, but before I unfolded it a flash of
pleasure ran through my groin. Some carnal intelligence inside me was at
work, alert even before I my work-a-day consciousness could respond.  This
is what I read, written in a strong hand:

I know you were looking at me. I think you are very handsome. Please call
me 565-1288.
                    Bridgit



PART 2

    There were six phone calls. I made the first five. No talk of sex or
even suggestive language at first, just stuff about schools, movies,
actors, music, and so on. I think it's when she mentioned Johnny Depp-- how
sexy he was-- the talk got down to business. I carefully urged her on,
slowly, and she finally admitted that she often masturbated imagining his
naked body, sucking his cock, the feel of his dick in her. Angelina Jolie
was my dream fuck. Bridgit said her pussy was probably very tasty. After
that we talked freely and even masturbated together. The fifth time, she
called me.

    Was I willing to meet her at certain Starbucks outside Manhattan?
"Willing?" Darling, I'd crawl on my hands and knees and swim a lake of
burning gasoline for you!

    Of course I got there first. Just thinking about sitting next to her
beautiful slim body gave me a stiff dick. She popped in the door half an
hour late, no apology offered. They all think they're the center of the
universe. Seeing her outside school I was struck by how young she
looked. Among the customers absorbed in their laptops or reading she could
pass for a thirteen year old. I couldn't stay annoyed by her late arrival.

     I remembered how she dressed at school. Did she choose her clothes
this morning with more particular care because, in an aroused state, she
knew men and boys would turn their heads her way, and their attention would
cause her clit to swell and get moist? Was my little darling, so dressed on
this day, feeling especially sexy? On such days did she move with a mild
ache between her legs? That spandex! The tight slinky fabric was
important. On the subway if the feeling really got too intense she might
flex her thighs, work the inseam up between the lips of her cunt. So moist
and warm: squeeze-rest-squeeze-rest, all hidden under a book. No one would
know. And what a thrill to do it in public! Only bicycle seats were better.

    Face to face again, it didn't take us long to get around to sex. I
asked why she wanted this meeting.

    She lowed her gorgeous eyes demurely, explaining, "because you're
handsome...attractive...ah...you know...  like...you're sexy." Pause. Then
her face reddened. "Because I want to have sex with you."

    We sat in silence for a time while she reached down under the
table. When her hand emerged her middle finger was extended toward me.

    "Smell," she said with a silly giggle.

    You little teasing bitch! Now it was my turn to redden. This girl was
not innocent! I almost came in the tight confines of my jeans. It was
twelve years since I left high school. Do teen girls behave like this
nowadays? My ego, already inflamed exploded to elephant size.

    Other than sex we didn't have much to talk about. I babbled about how
beautiful she was, how attractive to men and boys, how she dressed and
moved in such a sexy manner. But where could we be private together?

    Not to worry! Don't underestimate a hot young adolescent who wants to
fuck: she had it all worked out! She gave me a large envelope. On the
subway I opened the flap cautiously. Two items: a poem she'd written, and
one of her thongs, unwashed. Oh you sweet little vixen! Oh you little
teasing slut! There was a note where to meet her, next Saturday. It was on
the East Side.

    The address was among a row of beautiful townhouses. In one of these
homes my alluring young temptress waited--I hoped. The thought crossed my
mind that this could be some kind of weird set-up, that cops would swoop
down the minute I pressed the door bell.

    But press I did and as I waited I thought of certain girls I'd known,
sometimes as young as twelve even, who possessed a definite seductive
manner around male teachers. With surprising skill, and probably from
learned from television and internet, they seem to know just how to exhibit
their sexual charms. Newly aware of the power feminine charm can exert on
the males around them, and because many boys their age still seem oblivious
to the scent of sex from such females, these little lolitas often flirt and
vamp for any nearby older male they might find attractive. Such little
vixens appear in tight sweaters proud to show off their firm new tits,
their lithe forms squeezed into the closest fitting jeans or black stretch
pants imaginable. I give silent thanks for that wonderful sexy little
garment, the thong. That tiny item that allows these hot-assed teens to
display their appealing butts without unsightly panty lines and the effect
is close to
 x-rated.

    The door opened. She led me straight to the huge living room and I
almost jumped out of my skin--almost pissed my pants! She introduced me--to
her mother!

    Goddamn little teasing slut! Stupid stupid stupid of me to trust a kid
her age. My heart was racing. My mouth was dry, my palms sweaty. My balls
drew up so tight against me. My guilty conscience was half-expecting some
sort of trap for lusting after these young ones. Cops were hiding in the
next room for sure. I was going to jail!

    In my fright I couldn't catch the mother's name. I thought I heard
Diane, but it was Ryan. She calmly asked me to make myself comfortable and
produced three glasses of red wine. Poised on the edge of the couch cushion
I sat, afraid, but not so anxious not to see which genes contributed most
to the child's beauty. Ryan was small, with the proportions of a well
shaped teenager, had clear penetrating greenish-blue eyes, an exquisite ass
in tight tailored jeans, perfectly shaped medium sized tits whose nipples
suggested themselves through the rayon fabric of her rust colored
shirt. Her face was framed by a mass of radiant brown corkscrew curls
cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Flawless and radiant
skin. A hot fuck.

    Mother settled herself next to me, her daughter slouched in an easy
chair. Ryan offered a little toast to "today's special event."

    "You look uncomfortable Michael, very uneasy, so let me get straight to
the point: It's ok with me. Bridgit wants to make love to you. She's old
enough to decide." She said this in a condescending tone accented with a
voice steeped in upper-class breeding. Letting this sink in for a minute
she continued, "All I said to her was I wanted to check you out, to see you
for myself first. I suggested Starbucks. I was there too, not too far from
where you both sat, and I watched." Looking at her daughter she added, "I
even saw what she did with her finger, the little tease." They both smiled
at me, but my face was rather stiff.

    Oh shit! None of this was calming me down.

    "My daughter has very good taste in boys... and let me say...men too. I
gave my approval." She fell quiet and studied my reaction. I didn't budge.

     "This is not our home. It doesn't matter. We're going to be here only
once." Glancing at her stunning daughter, she added "Bridgit is my only
daughter and I'm very protective of her." Then to me, "When you're ready
you both can use one of the bedrooms upstairs, in the rear. I'll be down
here."

    She sipped her wine while from under lowered eyelids studied me closely
to determine how I took all this. I noticed her delicate hands and slender
fingers, just like her daughter's, and wondered how they might feel around
my cock.

    Ok! Ok! Finally I get it. I'm to fuck her daughter while mother stood
guard. Technically, I was supposed to rape her daughter in the legal sense,
with her mother's approval. Not exactly what I was counting on. What amazed
me was the presumption of these people, these socially elite, the
privileges and transgressions the wealthy assumed for themselves. Simple
for them: Bridgit wanted to fuck me so why shouldn't she have what she
wanted? She was entitled. The entitled class. I get it. I was of a untitled
class, sort of like a servant, hired help, and could be imposed upon for
their unusual needs. And I was willing.

     Bridgit emptied her glass and followed her mother's suggestion to sit
by me. Actually, the teenager draped her lithe warm body against me,
pressing her teacup tits on me, an arm around my neck. The warmth and smell
of her young body was intoxicating. "Go on Bunny," mother said "I can see
he likes you. He's already got a hardon." Daughter squealed a small squeal
of satisfaction.

    Of course I had a hardon; what red blooded male wouldn't around this
pubescent teen? Was I expected to make out with her daughter while the
mother watched? I guess I was normally perverted wanting to fuck this young
high school girl, but what was really perverted was to have her mother
along for the ride.

    Bridgit kissed my ear and took my arm and lead me to the stairway. We
entered a large sunny bedroom that obviously belonged to a teenage girl. It
had all the usual juvenile paraphernalia in abundance: cuddly stuffed
animals, loads of CDs, scores of snap shots of boys and girls around
mid-teens, posters of movie stars and the like, all pink and pastel.

    She sat on the bed. She asked me to sit next to her

    "Are you afraid?"

    I didn't answer. Again she embraced me. Her lips met mine and her sweet
tongue forced my mouth open. It was a sexually educated tongue which
produced a throbbing in me almost instantly. My shrunken libido suddenly
revived. I lowered her onto her back and rolled part way onto her slim
body. My hardon pressed against her slim tummy insistently. She felt like a
fragile doll next to my fully grown frame.

    "This is my first time" she whispered.

    Oh you beautiful little bitch, I thought, you want me to deflower you?
Is that what's happening here? These girls never failed to surprise me.

    "Why is your mother here?"

    "She wants to make sure everything goes well."

    After a shy pause she added: "She told me I should suck you first, that
all men like that...  And that... you'd probably want to lick my pussy."

    Oh darling yes, yes, I would. I reached for my belt but she took over
with nervous fingers and in a moment my cock was in her sweet mouth. I told
myself risk of jail was probably worth this. The thought of fucking a girl
as young as Bridgit was nothing new to me. I'd seen many girls who at the
age of fourteen--some even earlier--reach a kind of angel-like perfection
that lasts, at a peek level, for only a short time. Newly aware of the
power feminine charm can exert on the males around them, and because many
boys their age still seem oblivious to the scent of sex from such females,
these little lolitas often flirt and vamp for any nearby male they might
find attractive, age not withstanding. A teacher, an uncle, a coach can be
a safe target upon which to practice a make-believe seduction, a sort of
dry-fuck-but no-touchy safe sex. An excited breathy speech, a sparking
smile, a direct gaze and lots of small talk are usual. Add to this a tight
 sweater under which apple-firm breasts push out, an erect carriage and
graceful hand movements. Standing with one hip raised to round out an ass
cheek is part of the game. Frequent eye contact ties it all together. If
the male responds, then "show me how to do it" could be the next move for
the girl. Sometimes these seductive games do lead to the real
thing. Bridgit just might be one of these cock-crazed adolescents, or she
could simply be crazed. I didn't know.

    Her blowjob wasn't really that good and I was far from cumming. But she
was so willing it was painful. I told my little novice to rest a few
moments. She curled against me sweetly.

    Eventually I undressed her and beheld her body. Yes, this is what I
want. Yes, this is what I fantasize in class, more beautiful than I
imagine. I took hold of her ankles to scissor open her legs and buried my
face in the warm silkiness of her inner thighs. I kissed, I nibbled, I
tasted, licked and sucked the swollen flesh there--and got her and myself
incredibly turned on. I tried my cock in her mouth again and this time she
was ravenous. What I quick learner these elite school girls are! In that 69
position we made oral love until I could not hold back. She shyly inserted
a finger in my ass and that pushed me over the edge. I came quickly and she
seemed surprised at the amount of semen flooding her mouth, did her best to
contain it all, and even put on a smile after swallowing. She was so
fetching, and her smile so phony I had to kiss her sweet lips again. Good
girl! mother will be so proud!

Finally came the time to do the deed. I held the head of my dick against
her small hole ready for the main event.

"There won't be any blood," she said. Ok. Fine with me.

In I pressed. Oh, so tight! I pushed and she scrunched up her beautiful
face. I pushed, and she tensed up a little. I pushed again and made a small
advance, but she gasped and said I hurt her. Still I pushed more and though
she said nothing I could tell I was hurting her. I thrust still harder into
that adolescent pussy which was hot and wet but not yet accustomed to a
man-sized dick, or any dick as far as I knew. I didn't care now if I hurt
her. I was going all the way now. A little bit of sadism I didn't know was
in me emerged. I was half in when she asked me to stop but I ignored her. I
saw the word "rape" form in my brain and I slammed even harder. "Cocktease
pussy-girl!" I thought. "This is what you want. Take it like grown up".

"Mom!" she cried.

Her mother--how long had she been in the room?--knelt next to the bed and
held her daughter's hand.

"It hurts"

Ryan told her to expect some pain, that it should get better shortly, and
to me: to keep going. With her mother there--who must have been watching us
for sometime--my penetration was more determined. I had doubts about the
virgin part. If she was so tight what did she mean by no blood? But now I
felt united with her mother in this perverse scene and approval from her
was all I needed to shove hard, as hard as I could, and Bridgit cried out
loud in pain and bit her lip.

"Keep going" insisted her mother.

"It really hurts" said the girl. I could sense mother was beginning to
enjoy her daughter's pain and we were together in desire for the same
thing. I pinned the girl down with my weight and forced into her further
and she started to cry. Ryan ducked an arm under me and embraced the girl
around the neck.

"He's making you a woman, Bridgit..." Her voice was husky, aroused. "His
cock is beautiful in your cunt... Don't cry, darling." Ryan's breath was
hot and labored now.  "It was like this for me when I was 13, with your
uncle, with my brother...Oh, god...I'll never forget it. So good, darling,
so good... You'll always remember your first fuck. Your pussy is so
beautiful. My beautiful little girl!...This is what we wanted..."

To me she turned and practically shouting, commanded: "Fuck her! fuck her
good! Now!"

Despite the tears I would not have stopped. I was virtually raping the
girl, not just in the underage legal sense but really and her mother was an
accomplice, a witness. Her daughter's pain was her own perverted pleasure.

My strokes were gradually longer and longer: each back and forth motion
matched by a whimper from Bridgit. Then faster, faster, harder,
thrusting--building to a climax. The mother's hand pushed on my ass to
increase the force. I felt her finger work its way into my asshole. I
couldn't stop. I came again. In her child's clenching pussy. It was over.

I lay exhausted, half on and half off the now silent girl. There was no
blood. In the long quiet that followed I felt the most vulnerable ever in
my life. The finger was still against my ass. Despite my spent energy I
lifted and spread slightly the better to enjoy this after orgasm
massage. Then the mother's attention turned to her daughter. Ryan nuzzled
between Bridgit's legs like a dog on the scent. Daughter spread her thighs
open to allow better access, to better enjoy the application of her
mother's hot tongue.

"Eat me, Mother."

Did I hear correctly? You crude little bitch! It wasn't over. Now it was
their turn. It was clear this was not something new to them. I was moved to
the sidelines.

"Suck my cunt, mommy. Taste his come." And mommy certainly did, exciting
her daughter all over again.

They put on a stunning performance, so beautiful and so in violation of all
the norms of a child parent relation. I only wish I had my camera. I needed
proof that mother-daughter incest does happen. Bridgit was super charged
and it didn't take her long to pop again, cursing and shuddering without
inhibition. When she recovered she lay across the bed looking used and
spent, hair a mess, eyelids heavy, cunt glistening. She looked smug,
transformed. In control. She was not finished.

Round three. "Suck him!" she commanded as she pushed her mother's beautiful
face between my legs. "Taste his cock."

Yes, Ryan. Taste it. Its was in your daughter a short time ago. Its still
wet.

Mother was an expert at oral sex and her dirty young daughter watched
closely. As she sucked, my eyes were locked with Bridgit's wicked eyes. In
them I saw lust and power. But then my lids closed and in the darkness I
concentrated on the feeling provided by that beautiful mother's mouth. I
could sense Brigit's little body moving on the bed. Then her finger on my
asshole. Dirty little girl! My orgasm flowed out as if by itself into her
mother's mouth. Then they kissed.

We rested. It was really over. Then we dressed in silence.

Ryan walked me to the door. "If you ever try to contact Bridgit again I
have your balls sent to me on a plate. Thank you for everything." And the
door closed behind me. I doubt she was kidding.

I walked to the subway in a state of complete confusion. Fucking Bridgit
was wonderful for sure. But there were so many tempting, unanswered
questions. Was she really a virgin? Was this really her first time? Were
mother and daughter really in a lesbian relationship? Had they done this
before?  Had I just gotten a little peak into the kinky world of the
wealthy girls in these elite schools? Did Ryan really want me to hurt her
daughter; were the two of them in a sadistic relationship? Why had Bridgit
turned from a cream puff suddenly into a bitch? There were many more
questions, but then I became distracted.

I had walked about two blocks when my radar, which never seems to turn off,
became aware of a young girl up ahead. Long black hair, down to the middle
back, straight as an arrow. I picked up my pace and closed the distance,
perhaps a hundred feet. Slim waist. We were headed toward Madison. Tan
colored stretch pants molded against a mighty fine body. Beautiful hips. I
drifted out of my dreamy state and focused. The fabric wrapped her up very
snugly. She displayed a tight, very round athletic butt, one cheek of which
would fit easily in my outstretched hand. Now, there is a chick with ass! I
told myself. I felt slightly dizzy. I heard myself pretend to talk to her:
If you need a place to sit baby, please, use my face!

Another thong-bound golden-ass goddess! There were so many of them on the
streets of New York! All these riches! How could I deal with these
displays?

The light at the corner held her up, and I was able to draw up beside
her. She had a backpack. I glanced sideways. She was a very pretty asian
honey, perhaps seventeen.

End

Please email me if you enjoyed this story. I am always open to suggestion
for further chapters or new adventures.

Julian, ba9ba9goodman@yahoo.com