Date: Sun, 05 Jun 2016 20:29:51 -0400 From: Full Name Subject: TS "The Voices In Wendy's Head" Part Two Like all of my stories, this is fiction and fantasy. My advice is to read Part One of "The Voices In Wendy's Head," or some of this won't make complete sense. There are several references to Part One, and you won't be disappointed if you read it. As always, I welcome comments and criticisms: pinkpumps1@excite.com I thank the many of you who have indeed commented and offered ideas on how I can continue on with some of my previous stories. And every one of the ideas all of you gave me have gotten my blood pumping to just the right place. But I think I still have enough left for my brain to function. Just a note on my writing style: As you will see, I use incomplete sentences at times for emphasis. I try my best to write in conversational tones, and I hope that works for you. Please donate to Nifty: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html The Voices In Wendy's Head – Part 2 By Pink Pumps Chapter 1 – Three years before Wendy and Lindsey met ... Little Wendy was confused. So very confused. What was causing the worrisome uncertainty for our favorite twelve-year-old creampuff was the looks she was getting. Not from just boys – she understood what a crush was, and that just about all of the boys in her class had raging ones on for her – but from men. Grown men; even from Daddys! Men made Wendy feel things boys were incapable of. She didn't know how to process those feelings toward men. That is, she didn't know how to just yet – emphasis on "yet" – but she would. If you haven't read Part One of "The Voices In Wendy's Head", I should tell you now that Wendy is a very special little girl and has been for all but one year of her brief life. Even as a one-year-old who could barely walk, her parents could see that she was so beautiful, so dainty. The realization and recognition of her femininity was undeniable. So the decision was made – not even discussed for very long, despite it being life changing – to raise "Wayne" as "Wendy". (Oh, god, she would think to herself over and over, how lame is THAT? I would die if anyone ever found out I was once a "Wayne!" It would be even worse than someone finding out about my special secret before I wanted them to.) Her parents had her name legally changed and she's been Wendy ever since. She liked that name very much. Anyway, Wendy asked the voices in her head (they'd been there since she was old enough to think) to PLEASE help her understand SOMETHING, ANYTHING about her feelings. "Well, Wendy girl, what are you feeling?" asked voice number one. ("Windy girl" was its pet name for her, if you didn't already know that.) Of course, the voices knew exactly what she was feeling, but thought they should help her understand. Both knew that a very sexy twelve-year-old special girl was about to admit to something that excited her. The voices are asexual and neither is capable of popping woodies or getting wet. They are, after all, just voices. "Tell us Wendy!" said voice number two. It would have giggled knowingly, if it could. Even the sarcasm that would come from voice number one by the time Wendy was fifteen was not appropriate at this point in her life. It would only add to her confusion. "Well," she said shyly, "I get these feelings when men look at me. Why do men look at me like that? Why do I fell like I do when they look at me? What does that mean?" "First, tell us what you feel when they look at you, Wendy girl," said voice number one. Voice number two said, "You always trust us. You know we love you!" "And I love you two just as much!" she said. "When grown men look at me like that, my thingy gets stiff, my nipples get hard and my pootie-hole tingles." Voice number one said, "Those are sexual feelings, Wendy girl. We know you don't understand that right now, but just go with it." "You'll be glad you did," said voice number two. "We'll tell you what you should do." Their first advice was to put on her tiny khaki miniskirt, yellow skin-tight singlet and yellow-trimmed white Nike trainers, then walk down to the park. Wendy had just started puberty but wouldn't start hormone therapy until later this year, so she was still as flat as a board; she didn't even need a training bra like most of her friends. As Wendy walked to the park, her little ass swayed delightfully. Of course, she had no flare to her hips yet; she was as straight up and down as a little boy. Still, her asscheeks already had some very pleasing plumpness to them. On top of that, if Wendy bent over in the slightest in that particular skirt, you would get a visible hint of her white cotton panties. White cotton panties, especially those with pink trim and tiny bows, signify innocence, don't they? She entered the park and headed for the swings. "Good idea, Wendy girl," said voice number one. "You'll flash your panties when you swing." "I'm scared to flash my panties!" Wendy squealed, but softly so no one could hear. "Why do you want me to do that? What if somebody laughs?" "Girl," said voice two said, "NOBODY will EVER laugh at that sweet ass!" "Your ass is just one of your many sexy parts, Wendy girl," said voice number one. And it was right – a face that could launch a thousands ships (see Helen of Troy), crystal blue eyes, blond hair and traffic-stopping long, long legs were all equal parts of her undeniable appeal. Wendy's parents are both full-blooded, third-generation Swedes – meaning she inherited 100% Swedish genes – and she would soon begin the growth spurt that blesses so many Scandinavian women. By the time she was fourteen, she would be taller than most of the boys in her class. Further, by the time she was a junior in high school, she would look like a member of the women's vollyball team at the University of Florida; many of them calendar girls. Google it, if you don't believe they are. So Wendy sat down on a swing and pushed off. She did, in fact, flash her panties. As she swung, she noticed that one of her very best friend's Daddy – Mr. Tommy – was watching her and he HAD to seen her panties. That was unavoidable. ("Tommy" was his first name, of course, and Wendy added the "Mister" out of respect. She thought Mr. Tommy was soooo handsome!) But he wasn't laughing, oh fuck no he wasn't, he had "the look" that got our Wendy girl going. Her peeny stiffened to its full two inches, her poop-chute began winking uncontrollably, and her nipples hardened. "Walk over and sit with him, Windy girl," said voice number one. Voice number two totally agreed. She walked to the bench he was sitting on and plopped her scrumptious hinney down beside him, started swinging her legs, and smiled. Wendy had not developed her come-fuck-me smile yet, but she was well on her way. Let's call it her rookie come-fuck-me smile, shall we? "Hi, Mr. Tommy!" she squealed. Mr. Tommy had to gulp and catch his breath. When did a friend of his daughter's start do that to him, he wondered. She's always been pretty – even down-right beautiful – he thought to himself, but, DAMN! She is so hot too; so sexy. When the fuck did that happen to her? Why the fuck is this happening to me? "Hey, Wendy," he said. "You look, ah ... pretty today." He had to stop himself from saying "hot." What would Wendy say about that? (Wendy would have said that made her happy; she wouldn't know why, but it would have.) She smiled again, and Mr. Tommy felt himself erecting. He thought: Just a twelve year old's smile can make me hard? But he admitted to himself that Wendy was an exceptional twelve year old. "Would you like something to drink?" he offered. "Uh, could I get a snow cone? Strawberry?" "Of course! Want to walk to the refreshment stand with me?" If she had, she couldn't have missed Mr. Tommy's obvious bulge. "Is is okay if I just wait here?" she asked, still swinging those unbelievable legs. "Sure. I'll be right back." Mr. Tommy walked off, trying to hide his boner with his hand as casually as possible. The voices congratulated her on her decision to sit and let her skirt ride up, exposing her pantied bottom again. How did I know to do that, she asked the voices and herself. "Because you're goooooood!" voice number one said, leaving out "Wendy girl" for maybe the first time ever because it was so impressed with her unknowing tease of Mr. Tommy. Said voice number two: "What you have are great instincts on how to attract a man. They'll serve you well." It didn't add "and control a man," but that would come. Mr. Tommy returned – he'd managed to lose his hard-on – with her strawberry snow cone and a beer for himself. Shit, he had to have something to calm his nerves! But it got worse when he saw the fullness of her white pantied ass and rock-hard nipples under her tight yellow singlet for the first time. He took several huge gulps of his beer and uncontrollably burped. Wendy giggled that wonderful bootie of hers off. "Sorry," he said. "What are you up to, Wendy?" "Nothing. Just too bored to stay at home." The voices recognized her instincts again, and knew something was cooking. I can't believe I'm about to do this, but I have to, Mr. Tommy thought. He looked at the strawberry-color from the snow cone on Wendy's soft, plump lips and couldn't stop himself. "Want to walk to our house and watch a movie or something?" he asked, but he was actually pleading. (How the fuck will I handle it if she agrees?) "I could fix us something to drink and eat. I know how to make nachos. (Shit, who doesn't know how to pour melted Velveeta over cornchips? Dumb, dumb, dumb!) My wife and Sally (his daughter) are not at home, but we could watch one of Sally's DVDs." "Sure!" she squeaked. "Let's go!" She felt safe with Mr. Tommy. After they were well away from the park, Wendy took his hand in hers and he nearly passed out. His house was only three blocks away, but Mr. Tommy wanted to hold her hand forever. He prayed no one was watching. He was almost in full-panic mode before realizing the street was deserted. Chapter 2 Mr. Tommy popped a comedy DVD into the player and sat down beside Wendy on the couch. Right before, he had fixed himself a very strong gin and tonic; so strong it burned going down. But, shit, he had to have it. "Can I have a taste, Mr. Tommy?" Wendy asked. He was powerless to deny her. He silently handed Wendy his glass and she took and small sip. It made her mouth feel like it was on fire. She choked it down – the burning went right along with it; all the way down to her tunny – then all but screamed, "Ugh! How do you drink that?" That made Mr. Tommy laugh. "Daddy lets me have some wine every now and then, Mr. Tommy," Wendy said. "Do you have any wine?" Of course Mr. Tommy had some wine. And of course Mr. Tommy got up and headed to the kitchen to get some for her. What the hell else was he supposed to do? She asked and he'd already surrendered to her charms. Wendy was in complete control THAT FAST. But Mr. Tommy gathered himself enough to have coherent thought about what she might enjoy more: "Wendy, would you rather have some pink champagne?" "Sure!" she said. "I like champagne! Especially pink champagne! I snuck some at a wedding one time – it tasted great and the bubbles tickled my nose!" (And a cute little turned-up, nose it is!) It made me dizzy and happy all over!" How could he overcome THAT? Mr. Tommy's single goal at the moment was to make Wendy happy. Dizzy and relaxed was gravy. With drinks in hand, they began watching the movie. He thought it was so silly, but Wendy liked it, and that was ALL that mattered to him. After about 30 minutes – and after Mr. Tommy's third stiff gin and tonic, and Wendy's second glass of champagne – she moved over closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. She didn't understand why she did it, but she knew it was the right thing to do. SHE sighed. HE melted. "Good, good instincts again, Wendy girl," said voice number one. "Own him!" Voice number two agreed and said so. "The champagne is making me sleepy, Mr. Tommy," Wendy giggled. "Want me to walk you home, honey?" he asked. (Please say no! Please say no!) "Nah. Mommie and Daddy are visiting my aunt in the next town over and won't be home for awhile – probably not for four of five hours at least, Mr. Tommy. You can walk me home when it gets dark, though." Thank you, god, he thought. I can't believe I'm letting her get to me like this. But what am I supposed to do? She's pushing every button I have. Wendy was starting to realize that and she liked the way it felt. Wendy then sprung another trap: "Mr. Tommy, could I sit on your lap? It would be a lot more comfortable for me, and I'm soooo sleepy." "What a great move, Wendy girl!" voice number one said. Voice number two said, "Instincts, baby! Instincts!" "Yeah, Wendy, sure," he managed to say. She squirmed onto his lap, looped her arms around his neck and gave him a quick, light kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," she said. Mr. Tommy tried not to – he tried so hard not to – buy he wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her cheek right back. His kiss lasted a little longer than hers. Wendy gave him the rookie come-fuck-me smile. When she moaned a little and wiggled her ass on his hard cock, he thought he would lose his mind and cum in his pants. Windy giggled, "Your thingys hard. Why is it like that?" She knew very well why it was like that. She didn't know how she knew, she just knew. Wendy was becoming a little cock tease and the voices recognized that, even if she didn't. "Ummm," he said, trying to figure out how to diplomatically respond; he couldn't, so he blurted out: "That's what happens to a man when a pretty girl sits on his lap." "Oh! Do you think I'm pretty, Mr. Tommy?" He was breathless, and couldn't speak for a second. Then he said, "Honey, you're a living doll." She thanked him and quickly and lightly kissed him again. On the lips. That took Mr. Tommy's breath away. "Wendy, I don't know what to do," he finally croaked. "Please help me out. What are we doing?" "I don't know either, Mr. Tommy," she said. "But I know I want to go upstairs with you. Not to Sally's bedroom; your bedroom. Whatever we do, I can't do it in her room. It wouldn't be right." "Honey, nothing about this is right, but I can't help myself." "It feels good, though, doesn't it Mr. Tommy?" He admitted it did. Wendy said, "If you'll let me go up first – and if it would be alright – I'll put on some of your wife's pretty clothes for you. She's not much bigger than me; I'll bet I could find something nice that would fit. I want to look good for you." Can she possibly look better? And he knew she was right about the clothes fitting – his wife was very petite. So he agreed to allow the most beautiful, alluring, sexy thing he'd ever seen dress however she wanted. Chapter 3 Wendy dashed upstairs, stripped off her clothes, and began rifling through a closet, picking out a very short, sequined, body-hugging, green cocktail dress with a single two-inch strap that looped over one shoulder to hold it up. Before slipping it over her head, Wendy searched through drawers for some underthings, coming up with a white-lace garterbelt, sheer nude stockings – almost invisible except for the sheen – and a white micro g-string that barely covered her peepee. She felt a tingle rush through her as it cupped her little secrets. This was the first time she'd ever worn a garterbelt and stockings, and she fell immediately in love with both. Until now, the closest thing to them she'd ever worn were opaque tights under her school uniform. She put the dress on then dug through the closet to find just the right pair of shoes, finding what was obviously the match to the dress – green suede four-inch stiletto pumps. As we all know from our reading, Wendy would be able to easily handle five-inch stilettos by the time she was fifteen, but certainly not at twelve; she wobbled just a bit in the four-inch heels before catching on. A fast study in confidently walking in high heels, was our Wendy girl, right? She dressed quickly, used mouthwash, then applied some lip gloss she found. Wendy started to spritz on perfume, but she decided against it – the last thing she wanted was for the fragrance to remind Mr. Tommy of his wife. Then it was as if a lightening bolt struck her – how do I tell him about my secret? What if he thinks I'm gross! She actually teared up before the voices came to her rescue. "It's like this, Wendy girl," said voice number one. "You don't know it, but no man can say no to you." "He'll look at your tiny, pink circumcised peeny and fall in love with it," voice number two said. "Even if he's confused by it, he won't be put off; he'll think of it as a swollen clitty just to get to you. He won't be able to back down, no matter what's between those legs of yours." Voice number one added: "And your little pucker is sexier and tighter than any pussy hole, our love. When it winks at him, he may never want pussy ever again." Wendy took a deep breath and whispered, "Okay. I'm ready." She walked to the door, and called for Mr. Tommy to come up. Chapter 4 Wendy was standing in the dimly lit bedroom when Mr. Tommy walked in, but she still glowed. It was as if a halo engulfed her entire body – nothing short of angelic. "The Hallelujah Chorus" began playing in his head. No, shit! It really did! She looked so grown up and sexy; but at the same time, young and oh so innocent. How the hell can she do that, he wondered. As you saw in Part One, Wendy can most definitely do that. "Oh, my god!" he said. "Wendy, you're gorgeous! I can't believe my eyes." "Thank you Mr. Tommy. Want to kiss me for awhile? Then there's something I need to talk to you about. But first I need to tell you that I don't really know how to kiss. The only man I've ever kissed on the lips was Daddy, and it was just quick pecks at bedtime." He sat down on the bed and invited her onto his lap again, placing one arm around her waist and the other hand on a stocking-covered thigh. Mr. Tommy lost his erection after she'd gone upstairs, but it came roaring back when he laid eyes on her. Wendy felt it and was so proud and happy to be able to do that to him. So empowered by it, maybe? One of her best friend's Daddy! Still, she felt no guilt in that; she wasn't trying to steal anything from Sally, or lessen Mr. Tommy's love and devotion to Sally and his wife. What she wanted from him was entirely separate from, and exclusive of, those things. "Way to go, Wendy girl!" said voice number one. Voice number two said, "Just place you lips to his. Open you're mouth a little; but not too much. Invite his tongue in. You'll make his night if you moan, even if it's not for real." (But the voices knew it would be the real deal.) Wendy's first real kiss started slowly and lightly, and she moaned – yeah, it was for real. As it was getting intense, she pushed away. "Did I do something wrong, Wendy?" Mr. Tommy asked. "No! Not at all!" she said. "But I need to show you something. I hope you won't hate me when you see. Mommie and Daddy are the only people who know about me." She turned and asked Mr. Tommy to unzip her, then slid the strap off her shoulder, allowing the dress fall to the floor. Wendy stepped out of it and turned to face him, only her g-string was in the way of ecstasy or agony for her. Her flat chest, hard nipples, garterbelt, stockings, heels and g-string couldn't have been sexier. Even a big-titty lover would be in awe of that chest and those nipples! She prayed Mr. Tommy would like what he was about to see. "Here goes," she said, and lowered her g-string to just below her two-inch stiffy. After a moment, she asked, "Do you hate me?" Mr. Tommy actually laughed at that. "Of course not! I've seen little girls like you before and they're beautiful!" "Where? How?" She was totally confused. "Come here, honey. Sit on my lap again. I'll tell you all about it." She removed the g-string – almost losing her balance and falling down when it caught on a heel – and wiggled her naked ass onto his lap again; her two inches still at attention. Remember the "Special Lolitas" website Wendy lured Lindsey to in Part One? Well, Mr. Tommy was not just a fan, he was a HUGE fan – a long-time subscriber – and explained it all to her. "Baby, those girls I see on that site are drop-dead gorgeous," he said. "But they are not even CLOSE to being in your league. You're without a doubt the hottest tgirl on the planet." "Mr. Tommy, I know what a tgirl is, and I don't want to be called that. I'm a girl without the `t'. I just want to be a special little girl." "You are whatever you want to be, honey, as far as I'm concered. But just know this: You are spectacular, no matter what you are." "Thanks," she replied. "Will you take your clothes off? I want to see your thingy. Is that okay?" Hell fucking yes it was okay! Mr. Tommy stripped out of his clothes as fast as he possibly could without actually ripping them off. Wendy asked him to lay back on the bed and she moved onto her knees between his legs, wrapping a tiny, soft, warm hand around his boner. He gasped and almost came. Just Wendy's touch was electrifying. "Can I just feel it and look at it for awhile? I think I know what to do next. One of my friends showed me one of her Daddy's DVDs. I've seen a girl suck a man's cock. I want to do that to you. "But Mr. Tommy," she continued, "I know you can guess that I'm a virgin. I don't want to do everything in you and your wife's bed. Can we maybe wait a little while? You can take me somewhere private when we're both free again, if you want to. I really hope you'll be my first – I've always liked you very much, but never in the way I feel now. "If it's private, we won't get caught, will we? I would die if Sally found out!" she went on. "My parents would kill me! Everyone would know my secret, and I'd be grounded for the rest of my life." "Wendy, there is no way I'll let us get caught," Mr. Tommy assured her. "I'd lose my family and go to jail. I'd never work in this state again; hell, I wouldn't even be able to find a job anywhere! I'd have to register as a sex offender. I'd never see Sally again." So you can now see why Wendy only targets married men and the secrecy that comes with them, right? She had an itch now, and if it was going to be scratched, it had to be by a married man. After thoroughly examining his cock, she kissed the head. Mr. Tommy jumped, not in surprise, but in lust for a twelve-year-old special girl. Wendy took him into her mouth and began to suck and stroke; his cock hit the back of her throat and she gagged. "I'm so sorry, Wendy," he said. "Want to stop?" She moved off of it, fought back the gag reflex, and said, "It's fine. Just give me a second." Wendy caught her breath and went back to work, bobbing up and down with her mouth and stroking with her hands. As Mr. Tommy started to breath hard, she quickened her pace. "I'm getting close," he said. "Maybe you shouldn't try to swallow the first time." She managed to say, "Um humph." The voices knew she was trying to say "okay", whether Mr. Tommy realized that or not. Wendy pressed on, and her wonderfully developing instincts began to take over, whether SHE realized it or not. She sucked as much of his cock as she could get into her mouth then licked up and down its shaft; pinched below its head with two fingers; fondled his balls, and alternated speeds between really fast and agonizingly slow. Before long Wendy thought she could feel his orgasm coming. She considered sliding a finger in Mr. Tommy's pooper like she'd seen the woman on the DVD do ... but, ugh! She didn't want to do that at all! (You'll understand why in a moment.) "Now, Wendy! You need to stop!" Mr. Tommy pleaded. Wendy took her mouth off and stroked him into an explosive cum – the strongest, uncontrollable orgasm he'd ever had. He shot all over her – hands, hair, face, flat chest. Everywhere! Then she lightly teased him with her hand until the spasms stopped and he began to soften. Mr. Tommy was breathing so hard it actually scared her. "Are you okay, Mr. Tommy?" she asked. "Wendy," he said. "I've never felt anything even close to that. You were wonderful." "Want me to get a towel and clean myself off? I want to get on the bed with you, but your cum is going to get on you if I don't." "It's my cum, Wendy. I've accidentally gotten some in my mouth. It's not something I especially liked, but it wasn't terrible. Please get in bed with me," he pleaded. "Can I take care of you like that? I mean, I've never done that; never WANTED to do that. But I will try for you." "Mr. Tommy," Wendy said. "I don't know why, but I don't want you to suck me." The voices knew why. Our sweet Wendy was an extra-feminine "bottom" – a girl without the "t." That's why she couldn't put her finger in his butthole, and definitely not her thingy! "Maybe if you suck my nipples and play with my ass, I can cum. I can't squirt, so I won't make a bigger mess. Maybe you could put some Vaseline on your middle finger and put it in me? I think I might like to be fingered. I have a little vibrator at home – I use it and pinch my nipples sometimes and that makes me cum." Mr. Tommy said, "I can do all of that for you honey, and I have something way better than Vaseline." He rolled over enough to open a bedside drawer and took out a tube of Anal Eze. His wife loved anal fucking as long as he lubed her up. Mr. Tommy scooted down, then began to slowly kiss his way up from her tummy, over her inny belly button, to her nipples. The innocence of her flat chest and tiny, pink, granite-hard nipples was as erotic a sight as he'd ever seen. She's a child he thought; a virgin; an ultra-sexy, irresistible child! He cupped her asscheeks, then inserted a lubed a finger into her pootie. Wendy moaned and pushed back. He could feel her pooper muscles expand and contract. She would learn how to control that, as you know, but couldn't now. Mr. Tommy continued and her muscles clamped down hard on his finger, signaling that her orgasm was coming. He nibbled her erect nipples just a touch harder. Wendy squeaked, squealed, moaned, arched her back and spasmed as the orgasm overwhelmed her. He let her catch her breath and relax. "Good?" he asked. "Oh, Mr. Tommy! That was soooo much better than my vibrator! I can't wait to feel your cock in me," she said. "But I told you I just can't do it in this bed. And it's getting late. Can I shower and then will you walk me home?" Wendy thought a second, then said, "Get in the shower with me, Mr. Tommy. Please." Final Chapter Their shower and toweling off complete, Wendy slipped on her panties, skirt, singlet and trainers. Mr. Tommy put on a pair of Bermuda shorts, a polo shirt and a pair of Sperry Topsiders. As they headed for Wendy's house, she slipped her hand in his again. "It's dark enough, Mr. Tommy. I won't ever let anybody find out about us. I know you won't either." When they reached her door, she unlocked it and opened it enough to reach an arm in and flip off the porch light. "We're invisible, Mr. Tommy!" she giggled. They wrapped their arms arms around each other for a long, wet kiss. After reluctantly breaking apart, Wendy stepped into her house. But before she closed the door, she flashed the rookie come-fuck-me smile and said, "Good night, Mr. Tommy. Thank you for everything!" Mr. Tommy laughed and replied, "Wendy, honey, let's drop the `Mr. Tommy' please. Don't you think we're way past that?" "Sooooo, what would you like for me to call you, Mr. Tommy?" she teased. "How about just `Tommy?'" "Nah," she giggled. "I don't think so. I'm going with `Stud Muffin.'" Wendy closed the door and her Stud Muffin headed back to his house. He was already hard again. Holy shit, she got to me, didn't she, he thought. A couple of weeks later, Stud Muffin thought of an ultra-safe place to deflower our little Wendy girl, just as she wanted – a small, but very private hunting and fishing cabin on a beautiful lake that he and some of his friends owned. Stud Muffin was drinking cold beer on the deck that extended from the cabin out onto the water. And Wendy was sipping from a glass of the pink champagne he'd had the good sense to bring along. They both knew what was about to happen, but wanted to savor the sweet ecstasy of anticipation. This would be Wendy's first time, and Stud Muffin was determined not to hurt her; thus the ample amount of Anal Eze he'd also brought along. They'd managed to figure out away to spend the weekend together, and there was just no way he wanted to make her so sore she couldn't enjoy the second fuck ... and third ... and fourth. You get the picture. They both had stiffies; his a big one, hers her normal two-incher. They were on a thickly padded double deckchair when the moon's bright light on this crystal clear night bathed Wendy and her tiny white bikini in it. She was glowing again, and he heard the "The Hallelujah Chorus" so vividly he thought for sure it was real. Who was he to ignore "The Hallelujah Chorus?" Stud Muffin picked Wendy up, took her inside and laid her on the bed. Twenty minutes later, our Wendy girl was no longer a virgin. ____________________________________________________________ A Word From Pink Pumps: Obviously this is a flashback from Part One. And one last thing about Part One I wanted to make you aware of: Remember the former lover Wendy talked to on the bench at the mall that she promised to take care of "soon?" Well she did, and it was Mr. Tommy. As I said in that part, Wendy keeps her promises, and she did so with enthusiasm for Mr. Tommy. The voices and I are already working on Part Three with Lindsey back in the picture. Please check back. You won't want to miss it.