A journal of wanton and wildly inappropriate sex.






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When I started this blog, I had no idea how big it would grow or how prolific I would become, with posts that pretty much expanded from episodic length (a few paragraphs) to short story length. I've been wringing my hands, wondering how to deal with this, especially given my own limited HTML skills (yes, I maintain the site's HTML coding as well...and I don't even know CSS!). What I've done is to break the site up into nine pages of approximately the same size, then I created a page listing every story by name and listing them in the order they were written with links to those pages. Someday, I may be able to have you link to each story as well, but that will be a lot of work and so, don't hold your breath! You'll also find some navigation links on the right-hand column and the complete story list repeated at the bottom of each story page. And so, without further ado:




Key Figures In My Stories

There are more than 120 posts or stories now, and the number of people I write about grows with almost every story. And yet, there are a few persistent or regularly recurring characters. If you're new and you need a quick crib sheet as to who's who and what their relationships are, just click on the following link:




There are lots of stories here, but first
some things you should know (if you have
seen it all before, click HERE to go to the most
recently added stuff)



About Quoting and Trading Traffic

From time to time I get requests to quote or link to me. If you want to link to me, go ahead. Just let me know. If I feel I can reciprocate, I will. But put up the link to me first so I can see how you're linking. As for quoting, that's a bit touchier. While I promise to be generous, all of my stories are copyrighted, and so the courtesy of a request for anything beyond a hundred or so words would be appreciated. just write me and ask!

Want special consideration? Link to me with a banner.

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Ultimately, however, continued linking depends upon the traffic you send me.







At Last: Video of Me Masturbating + 1100 Pics

I'm not going to hide the fact that this little blog brings in a few bucks. In fact, I'll tell you it's only about $200 a month or a little less, which is enough to support all my bad habits and help me feel rewarded for the huge amount of time this blog requires (have you noticed: I write about two full short-story length posts a month?).

I have set up a great little "members area" with about 15 minutes of me masturbating (let's call it "Jill Jacks Off") plus more than 1000 photos of me, a good deal of them showing all of the parts you are probably lusting after. Just to be clear, that means absolutely and totally nude and exposed (yeah, the "swimsuit area"...all of it).

Here is a sample clip to give you a bit of a preview of the image quality, which I admit isn't up to Larry Flynt's standards, but should be more than good enough for day-to-day wanking. While I have my panties on in this clip, most of the time in the videos I do not and am working hard to entertain you, first by hand, then with a good-sized toy. Seeing it all will cost you $9.95 (collected and administered by CCBill, a reputable American billing company). This small sum gives you access whenever you want for 365 days, meaning there's no need for you to feel hurried.

Want to see it all? Just click here.










Feel Free to E-mail Me, But...

Because this is a spare-time thing for me, and I do need time to write, I can't reply to every single e-mail I get. However, I do reply to several every day.

What not to expect: If you write and get a reply, don't bother writing again. I actively discourage stalking or people trying to drag me into cybersex. Thus, if I reply to you, you'll probably have to make do with that one reply. I realized one day that if I just added two correspondents a month, I'd have 24 correspondents in one year and nearly a hundred in four years, which ain't gonna happen.


(Note from Jill: I got this e-mail from Gina early in the summer. Sorry I didn't give it to you then. After Belinda's fiance, Franco, and his entire family were killed in a horrific traffic accident, the family's wealth and holdings fell to her. They owned a conglomerate, so now that conglomerate belongs to Belinda, a young math student in her very early 20's. Her beloved Uncle Ray, Gina's boyfriend, went to be with her, for her adoptive parents had disowned her over her liaison with the Italian family which competed with them in the business world. As for her relationship to Gina and me, Belinda is a friend who, at one time we thought to be an airheaded annoyance, but has turned out to be a math genius and one of the deepest people we know. She's also become one of the richest people on earth virtually overnight with the death of her fiance's family. Why? Well, literally hours before his death, he had made her the primary beneficiary of his will. His father, the family patriarch who died at the same time, had made him the prime beneficiary. Thus, when both Franco and the father died, the father's wealth and holdings went to Franco, and Franco's thence to Belinda. This made her far wealthier than her parents. Imagine the irony! It's a miracle as well as a tribute to her inner strength that she has survived so much reasonably intact.)

I got to the house on Lake Como last Tuesday morning. Sorry I didn't write sooner, but Ray has been keeping Belinda busy, and with her, me. He thought it a good idea that she start visiting her holdings, which has led to some interesting experiences. I tagged along despite my jet lag. Some melatonin and stiff coffee (in abundance here in the land that invented espresso) and toughing out the first 24 hours is usually the best way to deal with it. If I'd stayed behind, I probably would have slept, which frankly would have prolonged the adjustment.

Ray flew us to an aerospace company near Roma. It has its own runway, but Ray felt it best that our visit be a surprise, so we flew into a small private airport his company regularly uses and we drove the rest of the way. The word hasn't gotten around entirely, and finally we had to have the guard at the gate call a vice president who told the guard to verify Belinda's identity and let us in.

We were asked to wait in the desolate lobby for a guide who turned out to be the very same vice president. He swooped in after about 20 minutes and after being surprised to discover that Belinda is not, as he had expected, a frumpy middle-aged matron, but instead a gorgeous girl in her early 20's with incredible legs, gave us a tour of the place. This tour took a good 6 hours.

(Did I mention that Belinda wears the black of a widow whenever in public, as is the ancient tradition of Italy? Her hems are just above the knee, which for her is quite long, as you know, but she shows enough to signal that her gams are major. She no longer wears the black hat and veil she apparently wore for a while upon her return. She took her cues from her staff at the villa as to when it seemed appropriate to eliminate the hat and veil. They obviously love their Belinda. She is so well taken care of. They all, even the men, talk about the arrival of the baby.)

The VP's contempt for the idea that his important company was owned by an American girl was hidden, but not very well. That changed when we toured a research facility working on rockets for planned space exploration, an area where Europe is trying to catch up with the United States, Russia, and most recently China, who put a man in space and brought him safely home several weeks ago.

We walked into a laboratory office and after we were introduced, Ray started asking intelligent questions. Belinda listened intently, chiming in with a question of her own from time to time. Then she wandered over to a blackboard with a blizzard of formulas on it. She didn't even know what the formulas were about, so she asked.

"Ahh...you probably wouldn't understand," he said. "They are formulas related to aerodynamics and fuel consumption." "And they aren't working for some reason?" she asked, looking at him. He laughed a bit, saying "It's always something. These formulas are extremely complicated and interrelated. If the whole thing doesn't work, it's hard to know where the problem is."

Belinda looked at the board intently a second time and said, "I imagine it's even worse to fix if there are two mistakes." He laughed even harder and said, "Yes, to use an analogy from the kitchen, if you double everything but the flour when you bake a cake, and then your oven isn't set to the right temperature, it's more difficult to figure out why the cake didn't turn out. So...yes."

Apparently he thought that she, as a female, would relate best to a cooking analogy. (The irony is that her total experience in the kitchen, other than pouring herself a drink from time to time, had probably consisted of making the occasional sandwich or microwaving popcorn after the servants had gone to bed.)

"I ask" she said, pointing in a sweeping way to a lengthy formula, "because this formula isn't balanced. Probably this exponent is wrong. Also," pointing to a number, she said, "This can't possibly be right. It's off by a factor of ten. I think you'll find I'm right if you check it." (Now, I hope I got that right: I'm not a mathematician but that is what I think she said.)

The researcher looked at her as if to say, "Who the fuck are you?" The expression quickly evaporated when he saw the VP turn white. The VP said, "You will double-check it." Not a question. An order. "Certainly" was the instant reply of the underling. "Now," said his boss, adding "I still have things to show our guests. Let me know within the hour."

We then looked at some rockets under construction, which was really cool. Ray, as a pilot, really gets off on seeing anything that can fly. The VP walked us back to Belinda's car and was saying good-bye when he got a call on his cell. His eyes were as big as saucers. Looking at Ray (not Belinda), he said, "She was right on both counts."

Belinda spoke up, "You can talk to me: This is my company now." Ray and I laughed. "So sorry," he said with a blush, "I'm just used to... Yes, of course. You own the place, don't you?" Ray looked at him and gave him the "Don't look at me!" shrug. I smiled inside, so proud of her.

On the way back home, she said, "I'm so lost." "I thought that went rather well," I said. Ray indicated his agreement with a nod. She clarified, "I know math. I don't know how to run a company." She has said this before.

Ray explained again that the owner of a conglomerate has people running her companies for her. She may have to hire and fire those managers, but she didn't have to feel that she needed to run an aerospace company, bank, or restaurant chain day to day. At the same time, he said, her knack for math couldn't hurt when it came to understanding complex problems and seeing through to the solutions, be they in aerospace or the logistics of running complex institutions.

We ate dinner out on the pier. It was quite warm and we took full advantage of it. After dinner, Ray, with a servant showing him how, fired up one of the boats, a powerful speedboat, and we toured the lake for two heavenly hours in the fading light.

I watched Belinda as the air hit her face. Several times, she closed her eyes and, strangely, at one point, she teared up and smiled, her tears blown back to her ears and into her hair.

I dared not ask her what was on her mind for, despite her tears, she seemed so at peace. I could guess it was some joyful memory of Franco, perhaps even of being on the lake with him on a night like this, and possibly in this very boat.

We all went to bed early, but first Belinda showed me where she sleeps. Her room is vast. It's actually more like a suite. A bed is at one end which actually is on a kind of pad that functions as a stool all the way around it. You have to step up to get into the bed. At the other end is basically a living room with a couch, a loveseat and two chairs assembled around a glass-topped table. There's a huge mirror over a fireplace that looks like a scaled down version of the one in Citizen Kane. You know, the one you could walk into. Well, you could just about sit on a chair in hers!

There's also a full bar, very well stocked with only the best in spirits, and an entertainment center featuring a huge flat screen TV and speakers on either side of the fireplace, each one bigger than me.

Her bathroom is equally oversized. I was heartbroken to see that it is still a "his and hers" bathroom. She hasn't removed his toothbrush, his hairbrush, his toiletries or even his towels. Clearly part of her is hoping his death is all just a horrific nightmare from which she might wake up.

Ray fucked me crazy that night. He even came two times and while he worked up to those orgasms, I must have cum a dozen or more times myself. I even found myself cumming while he fucked me in the ass. I know you love anal sex and now I'm finding out why. Thanks for the encouragement and the advice about the little lipstick vibrator. That turned out to be the key to enjoying it for me and now I always have one handy. And Ray, who always wanted it but never nagged me about it, is all the more eager now that he can get in the back door. LOL

Because we had gone to bed about 9:30 p.m., I woke up at the crack of dawn and walked over to the window of our room when I heard a splashing sound coming from somewhere outside. Looking down, I noticed that the villa has a fairly large swimming pool. Belinda was doing laps in a bikini (black, of course). (So that's how she keeps that svelte figure of hers!). Anyway, I watched her for a few minutes until she pulled herself out of the pool.

Belinda is starting to show! She's in that awkward stage where she hasn't reached the ripe pear shape yet and simply looks a bit misshapen. Her breasts are growing. She has easily gone from an A cup to a B. As the glow behind the mountains grew in intensity, she stood there watching, as if wanting to see the moment the sun would first reveal itself. She rubbed her hands up and down her tummy slowly and lovingly, which caused me to cry, for now I knew that despite the tragedy which had overtaken her, she had a reason to live.

As the sun rose, she was enveloped in an orange glow. Suddenly, she turned and trotted into the house. Excuse me...I meant to say "into her home," for clearly this, now, is where she belongs. I don't think she has ever belonged before, not with those wretched parents of hers. No wonder she was so happy when she was with Uncle Ray. He has always made his lovely niece feel wanted.

Ray has to get back to work soon, but Belinda has invited me to stay. I may stay until she comes to term if that's what she wants. I think she needs a friend. Some link to the past before she met Franco, and I can perform that role. I will love performing that role.

You should come visit us! I know you'd be a most welcome guest. She does ask about you and often recalls our adventures together.




Monday, October 6, 2008
I Love This Vibrator!

The good folks at PleasureMeNow.com gave me this baby to try out and it's every bit as powerful as it looks. Pretty much a jackhammer in a pretty lavender colored package. It comes with three attachments: a round one, a vaguely nipple-shaped one and (my favorite) a knobby textured one.

I got together with Kelsey one night to play. She brought her favorite vibrator, which has given her plenty an orgasm, but her eyes just about popped out of her head when I pulled my Aphrodite Infared Rechargable Vibrating Massager. And boy was she jealous when she saw how quickly this thing gave me series of strong squirting orgasms. Here, take a look:

It's nearly 12.5" long and comes with the aforementioned attachments, plus on the opposite side of the head from where the attachments go is an infrared heater (the glowing red part of the photo). Whenever I have a sore back or leg muscle, I get the Aphrodite Infared Rechargable Vibrating Massager out and take advantage of its nonsexual uses. I always feel better after a nice heated massage.

It does have two disadvantages which are that if you're a girl who's never used a vibrator before, it can seem intimidating, though one of my buddies who felt that way came back a month later after using less capable products wanting to know where to get one; and the other disadvantage is merely that it's for external use only, so if you're looking for that inner vibe, this one isn't for you. However, it gives me better orgasms than any of my vibrators intended for internal use.

You can bet it didn't take Kelsey long to get one for herself and I'm going to think about giving these out as stocking stuffers for all my girlfriends when Christmas time rolls around. And it's quite affordable, too, which surprised me. I mean, it's more than one of those basic $24.95 vibrators you can get in your local sex store, but it's well worth the difference in cost, believe me.

As I always reveal, PleasureMeNow.com gives me toys as gifts, but without any requirement that I give anything a good review, and I certainly receive no cash! Nor am I signed up to get a chunk of sales.


Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Where Have I Been For Six Weeks?

Sorry it's been so long since I've posted anything, but if you've followed me from the beginning you know that the business services company I work for is very sensitive to outside events. When the Christmas tsunami happened in the Indian Ocean and later when Katrina decimated New Orleans, my company had many obligations to fulfill. Many lives depend on the operations of this company.

The Olympics, the latest round of hurricanes, and now the financial crisis have made us extremely busy here. I've been working 60-65 hour weeks and my life has been less than adventurous sexually. What follows gets you caught up a bit on an adventure that happened before all of those things, though.

I do have a story I can give you soon based on e-mails I got from Gina, who has been staying with Belinda. Pretty amazing stuff. Watch for it. By the way, since some of you have asked, Belinda's at six months now. Due in late December.


Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Quick, Dirty, And Uncomplicated

Summer is drawing to a close here in Portland, and I must say I love the weather here so far. It's quite pleasant most of the time and seldom oppressively hot. But when it is hot, it's less humid than it would be in Ohio. As explained to me, in the winter the weather comes in off the ocean and it's seldom cold enough in the Portland area to result in snow down near sea level where I live. In the summer, the weather tends to come from the desert inland, and thus is mostly dry.

Hanna picked up genital herpes from one of her "clients" which meant that I could no longer fool around with her, something that only happened a few times anyway. She wasn't around all that much and when she was, I suspected she was pretty well fucked out and simply wanted some time to herself. I think we had sex perhaps five times, maybe six.

I've been more actively fooling around with Mandy, the girl I met on a prior trip here, before moving out. Remember, she was the one who ended up having a crush on me that I had to deal with by giving her a rather brusque brush off. Well, she got over it, grew up a bit and has turned into a fairly frequent bed partner who, like me, accepts nasty sex as good clean fun and fine recreation.

Of course, Kelsey and I still get it on. She is one hell of a lay, and of all of my buddies, she's the only one with big tits! Tits aren't all that important to me, but she is the only one who can nearly suffocate me with the sheer mass of her breast and massage my G-spot at the same time.

So, I'm not starved for sex.

However, as I often say, I'm a sexual opportunist with a strongly bisexual side, but at heart I'm a heterosexual. The advantages of sex with women, which are physical safety and far less in the way of power games, is also its disadvantage. You dance with darkness when you have sex with a man, who has a much greater ability to overpower one and certainly far greater potential for harm. That certainly adds to the excitement, though I'm sure I'm losing some feminism points by admitting as much. To listen to them, I'd be seeking out some harmless, retiring little Poindexter type... No thanks!

Women can fuck you and fuck you good, but to be owned for a night by someone far more physically powerful than you, and to have your brains fucked out of your ears...you need an alpha male. Having broken up with my last beau nearly 2 years ago, I've been screwing women far more frequently than men, and a craving for cock has been festering inside me. Getting a cock into my life on a regular basis has become something of an obsession.

That was pretty much the situation when, in the throes of midsummer, Lewis rolled into my life. He was a transfer from the Atlanta office. A network admin type, he got to work the day he arrived, fixing several bugs in our network and pointing out a few things that would make the system more efficient and useful. A smart guy and well-read, too. But for me the biggest attraction (other than his sheer physical hunkiness) was his knowledge of music.

Now, my father is a musician who has an encyclopedic knowledge of music in general and jazz/blues/rock, in particular. Perhaps it was Lewis's knowledge of music that got to me more than anything. I am 100% comfortable with dad, who talks about music almost constantly, so after getting into a conversation with Lewis one day in the lunch/break room about saxophone jazz, and finding that he was one of the few people in the world other than me and my dad who had ever heard of the Joe Harriott/John Mayer Double Quintet's Indo-Jazz Suite, a collaborative effort of British jazz artists and traditional Indian musicians, I was almost immediately smitten.

Now, Portland is a jazz town with many jazz spots, including Jimmy Mak's club regarded as one of the greatest jazz clubs in the world. In fact, Down Beat magazine has called it "One of the world's top 100 places to hear jazz." I asked him if he'd ever heard of it. He hadn't, so I told him about it, and he took the cue, asking me if I'd like to go there with him. I told him I'd be happy to.

We went out the Friday of that week, had some good food, listened to some great jazz, and then he walked me to my apartment, which is about a 6 or 7 minute walk from the club. His arm was around me as we walked, which was doubly okay since it felt good and right to me and since there was starting to be a bit of a chill in the air. (Unlike where I grew up near Cleveland, Ohio, the nights tend to cool off nicely in Portland, which can mean sleeping with the window open without trying to choose between sweating myself to sleep or the sterility of air conditioning, which I hate at bedtime.

He stood behind me on the elevator and his pants gently and (I assume) unintentionally brushed up against my ass, but I didn't waste the opportunity: I pressed my butt gently against his groin and I swear my ass could feel his cock swell as I did so. Your basic "Schwingggg!!!"

He took me in his arms at my door and gave me a long and lingering wet kiss.

With one hand I was reaching around in my purse for the key, and with the other I got his cock out of his pants which was made difficult by the fact that it was rock hard! Luckily, given the time (nearly 2 a.m.) one of my neighbors didn't happen to see this spectacle.

As soon as we were inside with the door closed, I dragged him to the floor and licked his dick up and down, savoring the slight taste of urine at the tip. This was, unfortunately, soon followed by the familiar taste of semen and a penis that lapsed into it's normal state of flaccidity.

He apologized and told me he had a problem. ("No shit, Sherlock," I'm thinking.) I told him it was no big deal (yeah...like I wasn't looking forward to an hour of so of getting my face, pussy, and ass slammed. Fuck!

He left. I got out a toy I reserve for occasions like this: a big dildo with a suction cup at the back end. I stuck the sucker end to the side of my bathtub, lubed up the shaft and my pussy, and gave myself some doggy style fucking in the pussy and ass. A meager substitute, but without it I'd never have got to sleep.

The next day, I called Mandy and we went shopping, after which we came back to my place, had dinner, and licked each other's pussies. Nice Mandy!

I liked Lewis and I did want to see what it was like to fuck him, so I invited him up for dinner one day after work the next week. I fixed up some spaghetti and meatballs while we made small talk. Along the way, I told him I'd like to work with him on his problem since it was probably a self-confidence thing anyway, which is what premature ejaculation typically comes down to, according to most experts.

After dinner, I put on a romantic French movie, Un homme et une femme (A Man and a Woman) and we snuggled through the first hour of it. Then I put my head in his lap and using my index finger, I massaged his dick. Soon it was out and in my mouth. I stopped long enough to tell him to close his eyes and relax. I got maybe 10 minutes out of him before I had a mouthful of jizz again.

About this time, my dad came out for a visit. I had arranged for him to come while Hannah was taking a two-week vacation with her sister, so I had him all to myself. He knew I was dating, and so he knew when to make himself scarce. Even so, finding time to be together with Lewis was not easy, especially since he lived with another guy and way out in an Eastern suburb.

I finally got Lewis hard long enough to fuck me a few times, and I found myself going to the library and reading up on sexual dysfunction, pumping friends I felt knew something about the subject and so on.

Finally, one day when I came home from a tryst with Lewis my father told me that he sensed something was amiss, so I broke down and told the whole story (without being explicit, of course). He hugged me to him, kissed me on the forehead, and said, "Honey, women have a tendency to want to fix wounded birds and make homes for lost puppies."

I kind of knew what he meant, but even so I asked him and he said, "It's not your problem. It's his problem. Why not get into a relationship that's easy? One that isn't so much work?"

As usual, dad cut through all the bull. He was right. I was trying too hard. I should be looking for a relationship I could slide right into like a stiff cock into a wet pussy. That's the way it had been with Eric, my last real boyfriend. We had grown apart after a while, but getting into the relationship had happened so easily that I was in it before I knew it.

Shortly thereafter I had the relationship talk with Lewis, telling him that he needed to address his problem professionally and that I had to get on with my life. The second week of my father's stay I spent every spare moment with him, knowing that I might not have him for many more years. At his age, he could be gone tomorrow or in twenty years, so I am learning to savor every moment I can with him, the #1 man in my life. The one I can always count on.

Dad went home and Hannah came home and life got back to normal for a while, meaning Hannah wasn't around a lot. Mandy and I spent a little more time together and she gives superior head, so it's not like I was lacking for sexual pleasure, but I was still wanting some cock.

One weekend, I took the train up to Seattle with Kelsey and Mandy. This is something Mandy had said we should do and she was right. Portland's Amtrak station is a five minute walk from my building's front door. I had everything I needed in a backpack and by the time I got to the station, Kelsey and Mandy were there waiting for me.

The ride up took about four hours and it was so pleasant. We chatted and joked and read all the way up while enjoying the outstanding Pacific Northwest scenery.

But what a contrast between Portland's gorgeous old Italian style train station, with its period exterior, well-kept grounds, and marble and mahogany interior vs. Seattle's dumpy train station. Here is what Portland's Union Station looks like:

We found and checked into our hotel, which wasn't far from the famous Pike Street Fish Market. One thing we all agreed on was that Seattle lacks that hominess that is so characteristic of Portland. Perhaps it has to do with the longer city blocks and wider downtown streets, but it feels like Seattle is trying to be NYC or Chicago, whereas Portland tries to be more like a Scandinavian city. Or perhaps, Portland doesn't try to be anything. It just is what it is.

We grabbed a quick bite at a sandwich shop/cafe in the general vicinity of Pike Street Market, and then, passing the fish mongers at the entrance, wandered into its maw in a shopping frenzy. Given that my income went up when I moved to Portland, and that I no longer have a car (hallelujah...and just in time to avoid the spike in fuel prices!), and that I have much more disposable income, though, to be sure, I've also started putting more into my 401K.

Between Mandy's overt cuteness (second only to Belinda's in my estimation) and Kelsey's overall good looks combined with her overabundant boobage, I always feel like the least attractive of the bunch, but a big strapping guy in a handmade jewelry store seemed to pay extra attention to me, a fact not lost on the other girls who smiled at me and waved whenever I looked their way.

I finally bought a lapis lazuli pendant on a silver chain. As I was paying, Kelsey butted in to ask, "How late are you open?" When he told her, she asked him if he'd like to have drinks with us after work. He smiled and accepted. She asked for advice on a good place to go for that purpose, also telling him where our hotel was. He suggested a club not two blocks away, and so our evening agenda was set.

His name is Gordon, though he suggested that most people called him "Gordie" for short.

We dined at Seattle's famed fish house, Ivar's, which isn't a gourmet restaurant by any means. Rather, it serves the most delicious, stick-to-your-ribs fish and chips type fare, chowder, and other basic seafood at a reasonable price. Mandy had told us about it and recommended it, and it was great. Nothing quite like it in Portland that I've discovered yet, but I'm still learning my way around my new home city.

We met up with him at about 10 p.m. and right away he asked me to dance. I know enough about guys (having learned from my father, my ex-boyfriend Eric, and by simple observation) that only gay guys dance for fun. Hetero guys will dance to get into a girl's pants, so immediately it was clear what was going on in his mind, and it was clear in my mind as well. He wanted to fuck me and I wanted to fuck him.

I got pretty drunk and danced a lot. I couldn't wait to get him into our hotel room, and while I hardly remember it, there is a picture Kelsey took of Gordie and Mandy. Mandy is looking down into Gordie's lap, Gordie's eyes are practically rolled back into his head. Then you notice the top of my head peeking above the table right in front of Gordie's belly and the bottoms of my shoes in the shadows under the table.

This was just before we got bounced from the club. The four of us went around the side of the building and the girls watched while I finished the "job." Swallowing his load, putting his dick back into his pants, zipping him up, and staggering a few more feet before I had to lean against the brick wall rather than fall like a Douglas fir to the ground. Kelsey and Gordie helped me back to the hotel where, after about 30 minutes of toilet hugging, I was tucked into bed where I slept until 6 a.m. the next morning when I was awakened so we could pack up to take the train home.

Have you ever ridden a train when you're very hung over? I don't recommend it at all. It was a miserable trip, and it took me two more days to entirely shake it off.

Back at work on Monday is when Kelsey broke the news: before Gordie left, he had had sex with Kelsey and Mandy, too, both of whom were much less drunk than I had been. Kelsey suspected that somehow the dancing had forced me to drink quicker and as much out of thirst as enjoyment and that that had made me more drunk than them.

I couldn't blame them, but it bothered me that I had given Gordie a blowjob and they had ended up fucking him. Shit!

Well, that's the latest in The Real Life Adventures of Jill Hill. Except for one thing...

When I got home from work yesterday there was a tall, handsome man sitting in the lobby of my apartment building. Someone I hadn't seen in about two years.

It was my ex-boyfriend, Eric. And Eric most definitely has a cock. A big one, too. And he knows how to use it!

We rode the elevator up just smiling at each other. Walking into my apartment he said, "Nice place..." at which time I slammed him onto the couch and whispered into his ear, "Fuck me so hard in the ass that shit squirts out of my ears."

For the next two hours not a word was said as he took me completely, fucking my mouth, my pussy, and my ass. On the couch, on the floor, in the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and laundry room. I made us a couple drinks and we sat out on my balcony. He started to say something but I put my finger up to my lips and hushed him. He knew instantly not to spoil the moment.

He also knew the correct denouement...

When he finished his drink, he kissed me on the forehead and left.

I haven't seen him since. He probably was just passing through and wanted to say hello. But...that was the most perfect fuck I've ever had. Quick, dirty, and uncomplicated.




Saturday, August 16, 2008
My Roommate's Other Job

Getting started in Portland was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Kelsey and I had to simultaneously scout office locations, interview potential staff, and figure out where we would live. All of those things equally urgent, so for a while, any time spent enjoying ourselves left us feeling guilty.

Luckily, I did find a place I liked after a couple weeks and was able to qualify to rent it. Since I have never been one to use my credit cards much (saving them for emergencies), I didn't have much credit. Also, the apartment was quite a bit more expensive than what I had been paying, so I guess I must have made a pretty good impression on the rental agent.

I ended up getting my company to, in effect, cosign on the apartment, with the understanding that I would use the next year to build up my credit score by using my cards and paying them off promptly. A bit later, once our office location was determined, I decided to give up my car, which allowed me to better afford my new apartment and a lifestyle that was in every way (besides living without a car) a step up from the one I'd had in Ohio.

And with American gas prices creeping ever closer to what they pay in Europe, it's good riddance as far as cars go. I can always get where I want to go by taxi, rental, plane, or train (and I live a 6 or 7 minute walk from Portland's Union Station, probably the most beautiful train station in the United States).

Giving up the car was no big problem, it turned out, since my chosen apartment in the so-called "Pearl District," was very close to a trolley line taking me to within easy walking distance of my office, and to be truthful, on nice weather days, it was an easy bicycle ride to work.

In Cleveland, a boss who bicycled to work would be the subject of ridicule, but not here in Portland where, in our office, fully 30% of the staff ride bicycles whenever weather permits it. Portland is renowned as The Second Greenest City in The World as well as the most bicycle friendly large city in the United States. There are bike lanes on many of the major thoroughfares, and although when I first got here there were a spate of deaths where bicycles and trucks or cars tangled and the bicyclists lost, since then such incidents have been rare. I think it was just a statistical cluster, not a permanent state of affairs or trend.

In two cases, drunken drivers were involved, in the other cases, which involved young people (students), I think maybe their lack of experience or a sense of immortality impelled them to do risky things or distractions in their lives (love, sex, grades, etc.) probably had much to do with it. One girl, an art student, was waiting for a light and was run over by a truck making a right turn on red. As you may know, a truck may initiate a turn apparently wide, but then the rear wheels come close to or go over the curb as it turns, and if there is a bicyclist whose mind is elsewhere at the curb, then it's bye-bye baby bye-bye.

In another case, a high school student in Beaverton (a suburb) was struck by a city bus. While the kid's mother is suing the local transportation agency, Tri-Met, it has come out that the boy was wearing a headset and listening to his iPod when it happened. I don't expect the mother to get the $2,000,000 she's asking for. Wearing an iPod while biking is somewhat equivalent to driving drunk. When you bike, you're in a soft shell (your skin) and just about everything else is hard shell. Pretty clearly, you need all of your senses in a full state of awareness to maximize your safety.

Anyway, I'm sure you're wondering, "Okay, your last post was great but...no sex! How about some wild-ass fucking and sucking?" So, here goes.

When I finally found the apartment I wanted, I got my stuff (which had been shipped ahead) out of storage and moved in. It overlooks a cute park which looks like nothing I've ever seen before. It has terraces to sun oneself on, a little lake with a boardwalk over it, and bunches of scrub grass with gravel paths and park benches placed strategically. It even has a little man-made creek running into the lake! I'd be able to see Mount Hood except for the fact that there's another building across the park. Oh, and while I call it an apartment, it's actually a condo being rented out by its owner. Even though it's pretty expensive, I think the owner even loses a few bucks on it every month, I'll gladly make some sacrifices to live here.

My apartment is a 3-room 2-bath unit. I only need one bedroom and a work room, so I decided to take on a roomie. I put an ad out on Craigslist and started getting replies right away. A surprising number of guys responded to an ad put out by a female. (Oh, well, why should I be surprised?) I like guys, but rooming with one who isn't my boyfriend (of which I have none, by choice) is out of the question. Unless he's gay, of course. Even so, I wanted to share the place with another chick.

At last, I settled on a girl about my size but a bit fuller than me and with bigger boobs. If you were to ask, "Which movie star does she most closely resemble?" I'd say probably Elizabeth Shue only with light blond hair. A pretty sexy girl.

She proved to be a flight attendant and in many ways the ideal roommate. Why? Well, she tended to be away more than half the time, sleeping at the end of her run wherever that took her. This left me plenty of time to think and write. In fact, she had two days off every week, and seldom, if ever, the same two days. And even then, she frequently spent the night away from home.

Her name is Hanna.

One time, I saw her while I was out shopping with Kelsey at Lloyd Center, one of Portland's better indoor shopping malls. She was with a tall Asian man. She saw that I saw her and she smiled that smile that invited me not to introduce myself.

This made me curious, of course. Typically (and annoyingly) girls tend want to flaunt their arm candy, especially when he is as obviously prosperous as this man was.

Then, there was the fact that she had a car that was way beyond the means of a typical flight attendant. It was a Bentley Continental GT. A little googling told me that it sells for about $175,000 stock, before adding anything on! After that, I saw her several other times behind the wheel of that car, alone, and I realized she hadn't borrowed the car: she owned it!

I wouldn't have even known she owned it except for seeing her pull up in front of the building one Saturday while I was on the main floor to get the day's mail. She ran into the building and was obviously a little upset that I'd seen her. "Wow," I said as we got on the elevator together, "whose car is that?" "Mine," was her reply. I was stunned into an uncomfortable silence which she filled with "A boyfriend gave it to me." She said "a boyfriend" and not "my boyfriend," which told me something in itself: that her relationship with the so-called boyfriend wasn't all that romantic.

I changed the subject, which made her a bit more comfortable. She grabbed a pair of sunglasses and put together a small bag of clothes, cosmetics, and toothbrush. Obviously, some kind of overnighter was in the works, or at least being prepared for.

A number of other strange incidents helped me put it together: she was more than a flight attendant. In fact, being a flight attendant might be nothing less than a very smart marketing strategy.

My roommate was a high-priced international call girl! I found that idea terribly exciting!

Now, actually, I'm not opposed to prostitution. I've had plenty of sex with strangers and I personally see nothing wrong with being paid to perform a service in a professional way. Many men aren't interested in or ready for family life and just want a good fuck from time to time. At the same time, it's tragic when a gal isn't her own boss and is "run" by some kind of pimp. I personally think that legalizing prostitution would go a long way toward putting pimps out of business.

It was a Saturday morning, and one of the few she was actually at home. I asked her point blank if she was a call girl. She had a piece of toast with peanut butter on it going up to her mouth as I said it. She froze and thought for about five seconds before asking, "Would you care?" "Not particularly," I answered. I pointed out that she knew what I did for a living and about this blog and that her lifestyle had made me curious, and so I put that together as the leading possibility.

She then took a bite out of the toast, followed it with a sip of coffee, and said, "Well, in that case...I don't think of it that way, but I suppose I am. She laughed at the thought, which prompted me to follow suit.

I explained that seeing her in the Bentley several times had me realizing that she owned a car a flight attendant couldn't possibly afford, and that either she had a side business of some sort going on or was the heir to a hefty sum of cash.

She explained that at first her job as a flight attendant was just a job like any other until a pilot had shown her the possibilities. They had landed in Frankfurt just as a major snowstorm hit, snarling the airport and keeping her from getting a taxi to the big downtown hotel she normally would have stayed at. The pilot of the flight, Paco, a dashing 50-ish Spaniard, who normally stayed at the same hotel, kept her company. Their chitchat was very pleasant and much more serious than the levity which prevailed on the plane.

Gradually, it became clear that they might end up spending the entire night sitting in a gate, so he got on his cell phone and called around, finding a room for himself in a nearby airport hotel. He also made arrangements with the airport to get taken there. She asked if he could get her a room as well. He made another call to the airport hotel and shrugged in a way that told her "no luck."

"You are welcome to stay in my room," he offered, and since she had had a bit of a crush on him for several months, this invitation was welcome, and after some disingenuous hemming and hawing, she finally accepted, and had, as she put it, one of the greatest nights of sex in her entire life.

In the morning, over coffee and rolls in the hotel's dining room, he told her that she was one of the best lays he'd ever had. After that, he went back to being funny and friendly on their flights together, but gave no hint to anyone (least of all to her) that they had had sex, or had any sort of special relationship at all.

Then, after a month or so, after she had seen the last passenger off in Paris, she left the plane and was walking through the terminal when she passed a male passenger who was buying a paper at a newsstand. He was a well-dressed and rather good looking Asian in, she guessed, his mid-30's. He saw her, paid for the paper, and scrambled to catch up with her. Since she was off-duty, this annoyed her at first, but she was polite because, as she was constantly reminded, while in uniform she represented the airline, which was all about being friendly.

He made small talk in surprisingly good English as they walked along, complaining about the weather and giving his advice on dealing with sleeping in constantly shifting time zones. When she finally got to the departures area, where she intended to grab a taxi, he finally asked her if she'd be his guest for dinner. Now, normally she'd say no, but dinner in Paris, with someone ready to spend some serious cash? That was an offer to consider, and finally she said she'd be happy to. He then said, "Thank you. Your pilot, Paco, is a friend of mine. He greatly recommended you and said I would not be disappointed."

She was floored. Was Paco telling everyone he knew that she was a good and ready lay?

She went through with the dinner, hiding her resentment as best she could at first, but as time went by she found the man to be engaging and intelligent. When the time came at the end of the evening, she accepted his invitation for a nightcap, and found that sex with him was enjoyable if a bit quaint. His Asian formality was a bit foreign to her, and at first she tried to match his formality, but she saw his frustration and quickly figured out that what he wanted was a real lusty American girl. She gave him the blowjob and fuck of a lifetime, letting him cum in her mouth.

In the afterglow, he asked if she'd ever seen Japanese porn. She said she had. He said it's customary to the point of being almost ingrained in Japanese women that they reveal no enjoyment of sex and remain very passive or even resistant. In much Japanese porn the female just lays there and lets the man toy with her pussy, and if he fucks her, she makes a show of acting very girlish and shy and of not displaying any lust or pleasure.

Because of this, he said he enjoyed having sex with European and American women.

At something like 3 a.m., she got dressed to go and he walked her to the door. He gave her a check folded in half, which surprised her. Even so, she took it and after giving him a kiss good-bye, she walked to the elevator, opening up the check as she got on: $5,000.

She said that all of a sudden she felt like a prostitute...and it was the most delightful feeling she had ever had.

Paco was the pilot on the way back. He winked at her and she smiled back, thus giving him permission to send more business her way. She had a lot going for her, and not just her natural good lucks and ample breasts. Luckily, she worked for an international airline that provided uniforms that were at the same time businesslike and sexy. Lining up work would have been impossible on a budget airline like Southwest, most of whose attendants appeared to be soccer moms, and whose clientele thought paying anything over $300 for a flight was highway robbery. On her airline, only standbys ever got a seat for under $1000, and the flights were generally about half-full, which is good when the flights could last upward of seven or eight hours. She had ample time to socialize with the passengers.

From then onward, she'd have sex once or twice a week, earning anywhere from $5,000-$10,000 each time, and receiving expensive gifts of clothing and jewelry. The Bentley was the largest gift of all, and it came from an Arabian prince. Despite its high value, she felt it was the hardest gift to earn, for his tastes were rather extreme and involved going to a party with him where she was passed around for several hours among six businessmen who had a taste for anal sex and bukkake and nothing but contempt for womankind. So much for that vaunted Islamic "respect for women" thing: that was only extended, if at all, to Islamic women. Thank heavens they'd never heard of fisting and he said something about inviting her out to his horse ranch in Kentucky. She wasn't going to take a chance on that. There'd be no visits to the horse ranch, she told me with a laugh.

Possibly because my reaction wasn't negative, she would tell me about her every adventure from then on. Finally, she asked me if I'd like in on a menage à trois one of her regulars was jonesing for. I'd done this once before during a time when my best friend Gina had been earning some bucks by escorting. The answer was, sure, why not?!!! I was curious to see what went on.

The day came for our "job." I'd cleared the decks and impressed on Kelsey that I would be unavailable. I explained to her why and she gave me a broad smile along with a look that said "You lucky little bitch."

I hadn't seen Hanna and was only aware she was in town because she told me she would be. Apparently, she had been with this man and had, presumably, spent the night with him. I was told it didn't matter what I wore because I'd be given special clothing to wear.

This made me even more curious, of course.

At the appointed time, about 9 p.m., I went down to the lobby and saw a black stretch at the curb outside the door. I walked out and a door opened. Inside was Hanna dressed in a conservative skirt and long sleeve shirt. I was wearing a dress that came down mid-thigh and a pair of platform wedgies with uppers made of woven straw. I hardly ever wear a bra and that day I saw no serious need to even wear panties.

With her was a gaunt man she introduced as Helmut, a businessman big in the European coffee business. He was in the United States looking into opening up Starbucks-style coffee shops specializing serving up coffee more in the German style. Having been to Bremen, in Germany, I can attest that German coffee is second to none, and nothing I ever had at Starbucks was better.

Anyway, we were driven to one of the most expensive hotels in Portland. We took the elevator to the penthouse floor, which faced the direction of Mt. Hood, meaning an incredible daytime view. Of course, this was after dark, giving the suite a great night view of the city.

It quickly became apparent that this was going to be one of the strangest, kinkiest escapades I've ever been involved in. I know that the only people who can compete with the Germans when it comes to kinkiness are the Brazilians. And this guy was weird.

We both got nude. He wanted me to tie Hanna up and torture her by pinching her nipples and labia and by smacking her vulva. She gritted her teeth and let me do all these things in a serious way, because he would have settled for nothing less.

Now, in the meantime, he spent most of his time hiding behind a curtain, peeking around it to observe the goings on. Occasional shaking at the pelvic level let me know that he was playing with his pecker while engaging in this voyeuristic fantasy.

This went on for something like a half hour, at which time he changed gears. Now came the truly weird stuff. Retrieving a duffle bag from the closet near the front door, he removed some black garments which we were ordered to put on. They turned out to be nuns habits and so, except for the fact that we also wore black masks covering the raccoon area, we looked like nuns. Don't ask me why the masks: even a fetish as common as big asses or garterbelts isn't subject to explanation. Fetishes are just reflective of personal tastes and one's private fantasy life. Perhaps he'd felt attracted to a nun in his teen years. Perhaps he simply enjoyed thinking about subjecting something sacred to profanity. We never found out and in the end it doesn't really matter.

Once the garb was on, he wanted some fairly straight sex: Hanna blew him while I let him eat my pussy. Then, he wanted to assfuck, and I guess that isn't Hanna's specialty (though she assures me she's done it). On the other hand, I just love it, so I let him fuck my ass. And of course, I masturbated simultaneously, cumming several times and leaving a pool on the floor behind me, because, as you may know, I'm a squirter.

All the while we humiliated him verbally, as was his desire. Even while he was fucking my ass I taunted him with his imaginary inadequacy (even though I was quite enjoying myself!).

Then Hanna invited me to leave and wait in the next room. The next part, apparently, involved only him. This was unexpected and surprising, but I was only an assistant here, so I left.

I wouldn't spy intentionally. I respect people's privacy and boundaries for the most part. So, I sat on the bed and turned on the TV with the volume just barely audible. After a few minutes I realized that I could see what was going on in the next room reflected in the glass of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

At first, I thought she was giving him a facesitting, but then I realized what was really going on, and it excited me. I mean, it got me really hot.

He was masturbating. I was masturbating. And Hanna...

Well...Hanna was doing what comes naturally (usually, the urge comes after my first morning bran muffin and coffee), and she was doing it right into his open mouth!

After we left, the limo took us home. I made myself a stiff one and sat down in the livingroom. It was about time for the 11 p.m. news. To keep things "legal" for myself, I had refused to haggle over price. There was no quid pro quo. I treated it as an adventure, and if some money turned up as well, I'd put it to good use. There wasn't even an understanding that I'd be paid. And yet, Hanna handed me an envelope containing twenty $100 bills as she sat down next to me. Gosh damn! I wonder how much she got to keep! My guess would be a good $8000!

She smiled and said, "That was pretty weird, wasn't it? Most of my work is much more conventional."

She was aware that I knew what she had done because, did I mention?, as I saw her in the reflection, as in any such reflection, she could see that I was watching.

Now, I'm very tolerant and open-minded, so while it's nothing I'd ever want to be involved in myself, and strictly speaking it's illegal even beyond the prostitutional aspect of it, it didn't bother me. If the guy was willing to risk a pretty extreme case of colitis, that was his business. It didn't hurt anyone but him: no child molested, no hooker beaten by a vicious pimp, and I've always felt that a guy who's had an orgasm isn't going to rape anyone. (Rather, I worry about the guys who have no sexual outlet: I think they are the potential rapists and sex murderers, not the poor soul jerking off to an assfuck video.)

Things went on as they had before for a while, but then Hanna started spending more time at home and I noticed her watching her money more closely. Eventually, she explained that her lifestyle had finally caught up with her: she had contracted gonorrhea, which she successfully treated with a series of antibiotics. It was scary because gonorrhea is becoming antibiotic resistant and it was on the fourth try that they found one that cleared her up.

That was a wake-up call for her. As she explained it, next time it might be herpes, which you just have to live with and is very limiting in terms of one's sexual lifestyle. But besides being industrious, she is a good businesswoman and clearly had saved much of what she had made. Spending it wisely and continuing to work, she was set for life.

And since she gave up her prostitutional ways, she has become an even better friend and, yes, occasional sex partner.

I know some of you worry about me and even write me to urge me to use protection, because I never mention it in the stories. Don't bother. I am writing stories for your excitement and the story always comes first. Take a James Bond movie for example: what would it do to the flow of the story if, before he jumped into his go-fast car, he did a 10-point safety check. That's why you'll never hear me talk about birth control or protection from disease unless it's actually part of the story.

Don't worry about me: I can take care of myself.




Lesbians Lovin' Each Other (Huge Video Dump)

They must have a worldwide factory going to produce this stuff in vast the vast quantities they do. I almost want to send them an e-mail to volunteer as a performer, except that I pretty much try to fly under the radar. Anyway, once again you can see some of the world's pretties legal teen and early 20's girls licking, fingering, and dildoing each other into one orgasm after another. Pardon me...I think I know where I left my rabbit.

Four stunning teens in dildo frenzy
Three cute teens dildo wet pussies
Gorgeous lesbians passionately kiss
Lusty teens finger shaved pussies
Three sweet teens share huge dildo
Sweet teen cuties lovingly caress
Luscious blondes strapon fuck twats
Teen cuties kiss and dildo pussies
Blazing vixens dildo tight butts
Three sultry honeys lick in garden
Thee hotties in living room orgy
Sensual lesbians make love in bed
Brunette hotties have sex in garden
Four beauties strapon fuck on sofa
Horny teens deeply finger pussies
Stunning trio dildos twats on patio
Sultry sirens soap up in the shower
Three hot ladies orgasm on couch
Sultry vixens rub and toy poolside
Three vixens rub and toy on sofa
Lusty teens lick and rub to orgasms
Adorable teens wildly dildo pussies
Tempting schoolgirls fuck dildos
Five sultry ladies in outdoor orgy
Brunette cuties rub to loud orgasms

Enchanting teens kiss and toy holes
Blonde hotties have sex outdoors
Sublime teens lovingly lick and rub
Horny hotties works toys into butts
Three dazzling honeys lap pussies
Sweet teen trio deeply dildos twats
Dazzling teens in outdoor threesome
Three cuties lustily dildo pussies
Tempting beauties finger wet holes
Three sublime beauties lap and rub
Teen sweethearts dildo furry muffs
Sultry sunbathers have sex poolside
Raven haired vixens in dildo orgy
Brunette honeys eat hairy pussies
Beautiful lesbians tenderly tongue
Blazing vixens dildo butts poolside
Luscious ladies lovingly lick twats
Captivating ladies toy in kitchen
Enchanting blondes bang big sex toy
Passionate ladies use anal beads
Three sultry vixens in patio orgy
Passionate lesbians strapon fuck
Sultry vixens lustily lap in office
Blonde sweethearts finger wet slits
Sensual lovers tenderly lick twats

Sweet teens hungrily eat pussies
Sizzling trio tongues and dildos
Blazing trio fills twats poolside
Three hot blondes in picnic orgy
Angelic blondes in hot sixtyniner
Three bewitching vixens lap and rub
Sultry teens have sex on pool chair
Brunette cuties dildo to orgasms
Hot teens deeply tongue and finger
Sultry honeys trib and toy outside
Horny teens rub quims in threesome
Hot teens make love on tennis court
Dazzling ladies finger holes in bed
Lusty teen trio dildos shaved twats
Pigtailed darling make sweet love
Stunning vixens drill tight holes
Gorgeous brunettes lovingly kiss
Three teen cuties bang toys in bed
Luscious ladies tongue buttholes
Naughty teens dildo in the office
Ravishing hotties eagerly finger
Lusty ladies loving lick pink twats
Raven haired vixens dildo outdoors
Captivating beauties in sixtyniner
Tempting teen trio fingers on couch




Saturday, July 19, 2008
Ray's Report From Lake Como, Italy
The Trip West, Addendum I

NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a story like this, spread over more than one post, you really need to find the first post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.

In my prior post, I mentioned that Gina got a stunning e-mail from her beau, Ray, who had gone to Como, Italy, to be by his niece Belinda's side. With Belinda's permission, we are now learning what happened there.

* * * * *

Bear with me, honey. This e-mail will be long, but there is a lot to tell.

I flew to Milan where I had arranged to get a car and managed to get to Belinda just before her bus to Como arrived. She was so glad to see me, and I was so glad I caught up with her. I saw her before she saw me and she looked so terribly lost and alone. Obviously, being in Italy and returning to the home that was to be hers with Franco was a melancholy chore at best, but more likely something she was approaching with overwhelming dread.

The drive from Milan to Como isn't terribly long. It took us about 45 minutes. I've never been to Como before and I must say it's quite simply the most beautiful location I've ever seen.

The family home is right on the water and is immense. Fifty-five rooms, the servants told us, and almost none of them small. There is a huge patio jutting out into the water with moorings on one side. The family owned several boats. The patio is so large, Belinda told me that they would have held their reception there with 300 people or more. Here is link to a page with a photo of the home.

(Note from Jill: Ummm...not going to show you that page but instead one with a similar-looking villa, so click HERE.)

Obviously, there was a contingency fund to keep the house running and provide for the servants in case of an emergency such as this. Maria, the elderly housekeeper, found rooms for Belinda and me. She's a wonderful lady who has been in charge of the house for decades.

One thing is clear: the servants all love Belinda and had accepted her as "family" during her stay there. When we arrived, a dozen servants arranged themselves in the foyer to greet us, and although they tried to shake her hand at first, she gave them each a hug, and so after a moment or two, it was all hugs, no handshakes. She knew every single one by name.

At the same time, they are servants and they are at a loss with no one to serve. At last, and at least for now, with Belinda there, they had a sense of purpose. Heaven only knows the doldrums they must have been in until her arrival, dusting, polishing, cleaning for no one in particular.

They prepared a small feast for us, treating the both of us like royalty. Afterward, in my room, I got online and did some research, discovering that this family was one of the richest in Europe. In fact, they owned what might be described as a conglomerate. You'd have to go to Japan or Korea to find anything like it. Electronics. Shipbuilding. Auto parts. Restaurant equipment. Several chains of restaurants. Three five-star restaurants. Two villa hotels right there on Lake Como. Aerospace industries... I could go on. Their holdings are extensive and varied. And I'm sure some of them are not publicly known. In fact, I doubt anyone knows the depth of the family's wealth.

Oh, yeah...they also have a fortune in gold which is kept in a commercial bank. A bank they also own.

My jaw was on the floor, as you can imagine.

The next morning, the attorney I arranged for came by and, over espresso, explained the basics of Italian inheritance law to us. The law prevents someone from totally stiffing their spouse or children. But he was mystified as to why Belinda was being called.

We spent the next day enjoying the area. It was Sunday and it's still spring so there was a bit of chill in the air, but flowers were blooming as well. We rented a pair of scooters and tooled around the lake together. Belinda seemed to enjoy that. It was nice to see her smile from time to time. Seeing her there, she seemed to belong.

By the way, her Italian is very good, especially considering she never took it in school and had been in Italy for only several months.

We lunched in a cafe on the far side of the lake enjoying paninis and Italian sodas. After a full afternoon of sightseeing and hiking, I took her to dinner in a fine restaurant (of which there are many in Como, though unbeknownst to me at the time, the one I chose is one of the ones the family owns, and so the manager refused my AmEx card while kissing her hand).

After dinner, we went to a local jazz club named (guess what?) Como Jazz Club. People in Como don't lack much when it comes to food or entertainment.

The next morning, she met me at the home's carport wearing a black dress which Maria had obtained for her, using clothing she had left behind for sizing. It was heartbreaking to our beautiful little Belinda dressed like a widow from head to toe, including black shoes, black stockings, and a black hat with a fine veil, which at least had the advantage of covering the tears I'm sure were there.

We went to the reading of the will through torrents upon torrents of rain. It was miserable, which made her depressed. It took me five minutes to get her out of the car and into the building. The family's attorney greeted us and asked us to follow him to a consultation room in his offices. We discovered that we were the only ones present. Belinda's attorney arrived about 10 or 15 minutes late, apologizing profusely at having been delayed by the rain.

Belinda had been expecting to see some of the family's other relatives there, but the family's attorney informed us that there was no need to invite anyone else since this had turned into a rather simple matter involving no one else.

He went to a heavy antique safe in the corner of the room and withdrew a folder. From the folder he withdrew an envelope. He pulled the contents of the envelope out and put it in front of him. Putting on his glasses, he read the will, which, indeed, was as simple as could be, distributing the family's fortune among his wife and children and specifying his son, Franco as the one ultimately in control of the businesses.

Then the family's attorney said, "But then, we have the rather extraordinary and sad circumstance of the annihilation of the entire family in that terrible accident, which I will refer to only this once. Normally, the estate would then have to be probated, except for the fact that there is another claimant..."

Belinda's attorney looked at her. Nothing. He looked at me and I shrugged.

The family attorney who, apparently to enhance the drama of a situation, had awaited our reactions, continued... "namely Franco's wife."

I was stunned. Belinda shifted in her chair nervously. Belinda's attorney seemed baffled as well.

Retrieving another envelope, he read the last will and testament of Franco, leaving to his wife his entire fortune and interests should anything unfortunate befall him, and to any children who might be born to them in the course of their marriage.

Belinda burst into tears because, I assumed, the fact that Franco was married was a secret unknown to her. I was wrong. Belinda knew exactly what the family's attorney was referring to.

For the first time Belinda spoke up, managing to ask the family attorney, "When was this will drawn?" "Literally hours before he died, while you were in Milan." Then he smiled a smile I imagine he had been suppressing ever since we arrived. "But it was signed in front of witnesses. It's a valid will." She burst into tears and fell into my arms, heaving and crying uncontrollably.

Belinda's attorney had a blank expression on his face at first. But then I could almost see the gears of his mind churning and he asked her, "Please pardon me if I'm wrong here, but when did you and Franco get married?"

It took a minute or so for Belinda to compose herself enough to say, "Two or three months ago. In Monaco. We went away for a weekend of fun and on a whim got married so that we could express our love legitimately. That would have mattered to the family. We were going to have a big wedding later to please his mother. We didn't even want to tell anyone. I wouldn't have even let him do such a will until after we were married in the eyes of his parents."

After a very long pause, she added, as if she needed to justify herself, "We only made love once, and now I have his baby in me."

"Once is enough to consummate a marriage and make an heir," said the family attorney, "I have seen the certificate of marriage. There is no doubt in my mind that you are his wife. That you are to be the mother of his child only makes it harder to contest."

Belinda's attorney was grinning ear-to-ear. He stuttered for a few seconds before managing these opaque words, "My God! My GOD!!!"

I thought I knew what it meant but to be sure I asked as much as said: "She inherits everything?" He could still barely speak, but finally said: "She inherits everything: the family home, the entire family fortune." He paused to absorb it himself. Laughing hysterically, he said, "Holy Mother of God!...this lovely child owns a bank! She is one of the richest people in the world!"

I know you and your friends think I'm wealthy because of the company I own. Let me tell you, she is far wealthier than I am. To say she's several orders of magnitude wealther hardly expresses it. Wealthier than anyone I know. She is among the super wealthy. She's so wealthy there's no way to even measure it accurately. This family must have people who's full time job is to spend their money for them. To invest it, to buy businesses, to sell businesses, to wheel and deal, and to do so without much, if any, supervision. That is real wealth. That is Bill Gates' kind of wealth.

Belinda's attorney got back to business, saying "There are relatives who may not like this." He indicated that the two attorneys needed a huddle. I excused us and took Belinda out to get some air. During the period inside, which lasted no more than 45 minutes, the rain had subsided and the clouds were breaking up. Straight, steeply diagonal shafts of light were punching through the clouds, hitting Lake Como and illuminating parts of the mountains flanking the lake like spotlights. The cobblestone road was wet, emphasizing the colors in the stones. Anything that was green was vividly green and the air was full of the earthy smells of burgeoning spring.

She paced. "I didn't want this. I didn't marry Franco for his money. I didn't even think about the money. I'd give it all up just to have him back. I'd live in one room with him and wait tables if that's what it took." I said, "I know, sweetie, but money is part of life. This is what happens when people pass away. It doesn't matter to you right now but believe me it matters. Especially this much money. Do you have any idea how wealthy you are or what it will mean to your child? The advantages that he or she will have?"

Lifting her veil, revealing mascara-scarred cheeks, she said, "Uncle Ray...I'm just a girl, a student who doesn't even have a degree. I've been sheltered. I have no idea what to do with the money. I own a bank? I don't even know what that means. I know what it means to own a pair of shoes or a car or even a house. I can change shoes, drive a car, or live in a house. What do you do with a bank?"

I was at a loss. She wouldn't know how to run a company like mine, much less a huge conglomerate consisting of companies, many of them larger than mine.

I did my best: "Don't worry: things like that are run by managers, not owners. You see: I'm here. My company would go on even if I was struck by lightning as I stand. You can even sell it off bit by bit if you want, but I wouldn't recommend doing that precipitously. You'll grow into this. You have no idea how lucky you are." Immediately, I regretted saying that. Of course she couldn't feel lucky. Not now.

She grew quiet. I said, "You'll need time to absorb this." I took her to a nearby coffee stand and got us some espresso and a delicate cookie. She drank the coffee and munched on the pastry. I gave her a paper napkin and told her she should wipe her cheeks. She pulled a small mirror from her tiny black purse and at first laughed, but as she dabbed her cheeks, she began weeping again, saying, "This really means nothing to me." All I could manage to say was, "That is how we all feel when we lose a loved one. Nothing means anything for a while, but time gives us perspective. This will always be something sad to think about, but you will find new reasons to live. You have one in your tummy. A little someone who is half you and half..."

Belinda's attorney came on the scene just then and, seeing the state she was in, and knowing I was a trusted relative who was somewhat older, asked me to come and talk with him. "We looked things over and tried to anticipate any claims that could be made, and while it's impossible to stop someone from making a claim based on family relations, we can't see that they'd have a leg to stand on. Cousins and uncles are not as close as wives, and in Italy no such claim can trump the claim of a spouse, especially one bearing the deceased's baby.

"Basically, if she had hired someone to eliminate the family (I'm so glad we were out of earshot when he said that), that is about the only way the bequest could be kept from her. We both think she's quite safe."

I explained this to Belinda on the way back to the family home, which was now hers, or would be once all the legal formalities were taken care of. She nodded without emotion, merely acknowledging that she had heard me. Nothing more.

Belinda wanted to go to her room, no doubt to weep some more before fixing her makeup, which gave me a chance to update Maria, the housekeeper, who was, quite simply, elated by the news. "Oh, my! That is such welcome news. If anything good could come out of this, this is it." "And of course, the baby," I said without thinking, realizing by the surprise on Maria's face that it was not universally known. Immediately I regretted my indiscretion. It was really for Belinda to reveal.

"Miss Belinda is pregnant with Franco's baby?" The cat well out of the bag, and knowing such things mean more here, I added, "It turns out that it's Mrs., not Miss. They were married some months ago in Monaco." "A baby...how wonderful!" Clasping her hands under her chin with pleasure, she continued, "That is marvelous. There hasn't been a baby here in nearly two decades. It's something this ancient house needs." Then panic crossed her face and she asked if Belinda would be staying.

Belinda, who had returned and had overheard much, looked at me with exasperation and said with more composure than I might have expected, "Yes, Maria. For now, anyway. I haven't had time to think of the future, but here I know I can have shelter and peace and quiet."

"I can speak for your entire staff," Maria said with conviction, "We want you to stay. We would all love to help you stay and raise a child. How could there be a better place to raise a child? And besides, this is your house now. This is your home." I almost burst into tears at that point. I don't know how Belinda managed it, but perhaps she did so by throwing her arms around Maria's thick torso, clinging to the sturdy woman as if she were her mother.

Then, to my total surprise, Belinda let go of Maria and took on a commanding tone, no doubt learned from hearing how Franco and his father, the patriarch, had talked to the staff. She ordered Maria to gather the entire staff for a meeting out on the large patio. (The one on the lake, which I have already described.) Once they were assembled, she somehow got through explaining that she had inherited the house (leaving out the fact that she also owned the entire fortune and all the holdings) and that she and Franco had been married in Monaco and that she would be having Franco's baby in about six months. She did so solemnly but without shedding a tear.

Clearly, she was pulling herself together and giving herself a sense of purpose.

The delight that crossed the faces of the female staffers at the news was evident. At this point, and perhaps buoyed by the reaction the staff was having, she added, "...and I have decided that I will be having our baby here." Maybe it was something in the way she said it. Maybe it was just the context of the situation, but they took the word "our" to mean the baby was theirs as well as hers.

This announcement was followed by deafening applause. I tell you, these people are in love with Belinda. I can't imagine a better situation for her right now. She will be surrounded by affection and showered with attentions every moment of the day. I got the impression any of them would take a bullet for her.

What a series of changes this little niece of mine has gone through, and the wonderful thing is I'm actually watching her mature in front of my eyes. She's realizing she's the mistress of one of the great houses of Como, the heir of a grand family, and she's taking the helm. I'm sure she's still lost as far as the family's business holdings, but like I told her, those are run by managers, and while she'll eventually need to look at them, for now they will run themselves under the care of experts and specialists who are well-paid, but not so well-paid as to not want to impress the boss. By running this house, she will learn to run a business.

I think she's going to be okay. I know you all will be happy about that.

It's bedtime here. Belinda told me to fill you in and I hope I haven't left anything major out. I'm sure you're not bored! She asked me to have you update her buddies. So, there it is.

It's 2:30 a.m. and I need some sleep. Tomorrow will be a very busy day. For now, I, too, am Belinda's servant. I'll keep you posted.

Love, Ray

* * * * *

(Note from Gina: Okay, I need to tell you that Ray doesn't write that well. At the same time, she got all the facts in and made the e-mail quite a bit more readable.)

Hey, I apologize for another sexless post, but as with the others I think you can understand why. More sexy yarns are on the way, don't worry!




Tuesday, July 9, 2008
The Arrival
The Trip West, Pt. XVII

NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a story like this, spread over more than one post, you really need to find the first post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.

We woke up to a rainy morning and learned from a local radio station that we had just beat a storm that was starting to snarl traffic on the I-5 mountain passes and was probably going to result in chains being required and possibly total closure of the road behind us. We were lucky. I doubt if we'd have been able to mount chains on the gigantic bus all by ourselves. Just considering the size of the tires, I wonder if I could even have handled a set of chains by myself.

During breakfast, Belinda called to inform us that she had landed and was awaiting the bus which would take her from Milano to Como. She was mystified as to why she had been invited to a reading of the will. She and Franko had never married. Perhaps, she thought, she was simply on a long list people who, through their association with the family, might be mentioned or might be needed as witnesses.

We told her to keep us posted and said good-bye one by one. It was heartening to see that Cliff clearly cared for her as much as we did. So many guys are callous and cynical nowadays. He has a good heart and will make good father, just like our daddy.

Gina made a call to Ray, who said he'd try to get some Italian legal assistance for his niece.

We let Cliff drive the rest of the way. It took about 5 and a half hours and we arrived just before sundown. It had been gray and intermittently raining all the way up I-5, but as we passed from Tigard, Portland's big suburb to the South, the clouds broke and we were treated to the last orange rays of sunlight as the sun set below The Coast Range to our left.

Once in town, we followed some advice we'd been given and found a place to park on the road that runs along the Willamette River. We parked below what I later learned was The Broadway Bridge. Since there was a stairway up to bridge level, we put on some jackets and walked up. Those 80 steps (yes, I counted) took us up about five stories, which gave us a great view of the northern part of the city.

In the dying light, it was apparent which way to walk to find some food, so we walked into the area called The Pearl, which is full of little shops, restaurants, and gorgeous condos. We had dinner in a great Chinese restaurant called Sungari Pearl. That done, on the advice of the locals at the next table, we took a tram into the downtown area, a place Kelsey and I had been to several times, though it was new to Gina and Cliff.

Portland is a city that feels like a town, and nowhere more than in the city center. It's the most compact major city I've seen anywhere, and it has a public square that still is a public square. By that, I mean that Pioneer Square is a place at the center of town where public events are held such as rallies or concerts or displays. At other times, people just go there to watch people or, in the summer, to sun themselves.

Of course, it's still a major city with, rain aside, a fairly mild climate. So it attracts more than its share of the homeless and houses many street people who, of course, tend to abuse alcohol and drugs. So...all is not sweetness and light.

We walked around a bit, saw a movie, at one of the four downtown movie theaters (all within a five minute walk from the center of Pioneer Square, by the way...see what I mean about "compact"?). and by then it was around 10 p.m.

We were a little lost and stopped by the Hilton where someone at the desk told us how to get back to the bus by taking the MAX (the local commuter light rail system), getting off at the Old Town/Chinatown stop, and walking a bit.

We drank a little wine, watched a video, and went to bed about 1:30. The next morning was glorious: Sunny and somewhere in the mid-50's, whereas back in Cleveland it was still in the 30's.

Our main task now would be to find a place to live, and our main resource was a girl we'd met on an earlier visit. Mandy. She had taken the day off and would be meeting us for lunch, where we would talk about our needs and give us the general lay of the land.

We met her for lunch at a downtown dive bar called Kelly's Olympian. As she walked in Cliff made the three of us laugh when he said under his breath, "Jeeeezus, Jill...do you know any chicks who aren't hot?"

Mandy was even more beautiful than she had been in my memory. She was wearing a green flannel shirt with a plaid pattern and black denims that couldn't fit better even in my imagination. Her long dark hair flowed as if she had just stepped out of a shampoo ad. I gotta tell ya: I was feeling it in my loins.

Poor Cliff! I could almost feel his pain. I say "pain," remembering the photographer who had defined the highest level of beauty is "So beautiful, she's painful to look at." The pain being the pain of realizing the girl is so desirable and yet is beyond one's reach. I just feared Cliff was in for another disappointment. I'm glad I'm no longer his age.

You may remember that when last I had been with her, she'd developed a crush on me that I had to put an end to, which hurt me greatly, because I really don't enjoy hurting people (especially people I like), but which I'm sure hurt her even more.

After a while, we'd started staying in touch via e-mail and the occasional phone conversation and I was pretty sure she was over it by now.

I wasn't so sure I was over her, though, upon seeing her again. My relationships had been so topsy-turvy the last few years, what with leaving Eric, my boyfriend; my own crush on Belinda, which turned into a deep love-based friendship; and then seeing Mandy again and realizing how fucking attracted I still felt her to be.

So, over burgers and beer, she laid the city bare. The city had five "quarters" (one of the wacky things about Portland, and one I still don't know the genesis of).

The central downtown area is in the southwest (SW) quarter, up against the river. This is where the tall buildings and public square are. It is also the public transit hub of the city. Most bus lines and the MAX light rail line go through here. Stretching in the southwest direction, one runs into a residential area largely characterized by roads forced to be serpentine due to having to deal with a very uneven landscape.

Across the river is the southeast (SE) quarter, which she described as the "West Virginia part of town." This is where a lot of the low-cost rental housing and old slapdash construction bungalows are. This is where the bikers and tweakers tend to be found, and if there's a murder in the news, more than half the time, it's in this quarter of town.

The northwest (NW) quarter is heavy on young people, students, artists, and the well-educated, and cost of renting there reflects its popularity. The close-in northwest is called The Pearl (which has been mentioned earlier). This area used to be mostly industry- and warehouse-oriented. Today, it has trendy shops and restaurants, as well as a growing list of luxury condos and apartments. And the apartments tend to be spaces rented out by condo owners who bought them as investments.

In the northeast (NE) quarter, you have old neighborhoods full of well-kept homes that are holding their value. It also holds Lloyd Center, the original Portland area enclosed mall. It's very family-oriented, and if you want to raise a child, it's probably the quarter to concentrate on. (We assured her that raising kids weren't among out intentions in coming to Portland. We all got a good laugh out of that.)

This leaves the north (N) quarter, which might be described as somewhat like the southeast quarter in terms of having poorer housing than the other quarters, in part because it blends into the industrial part of town. But it also houses The University Of Portland, a fine institution of higher learning operated by The Catholic Church

Gina rented a car and we all hopped in and with Mandy as navigator, we spent the next five or six hours driving around town. In my prior visits, I'd been largely limited to the downtown area. It was refreshing to get out into the suburbs and discover old neighborhoods that look about the same no matter where you go.

Somewhere along the way we got a call from Belinda with a bit of a surprise. We had been concerned that Belinda, in her fragile state, would be going through something harrowing all alone in Italy. It turned out that that was not to be the case. Her Uncle Ray, Gina's beau, had jetted out and caught up with her. He had been waiting for her when she stepped off the bus. He would be a quasi-parental presence. Not as old as her adoptive father, Ray's brother, but old enough to play the role of a mature male solely interested in her welfare, and powerful enough to actually provide help, should she need it.

She was in safe hands and sounded optimistic.

The phonecall over, I looked at Gina, saying "You...you never tell us what's going on." She smiled. "It's family stuff." "Yeah, but..." "I like to surprise you." Yes, that she does.

Gina told us that Ray had arranged for Belinda to have the assistance of a good Italian attorney specializing in inheritance to explain the proceedings and assist her should she need it. The reading would be coming up soon and we were all very curious about it, as you can imagine.

Over dinner, it seemed Kelsey and I had fallen in love with the same part of town: The Pearl District. It was brand spanking new, but bordered Old Town and Chinatown as well as the trendy Northwest area heavily populated by students and artists. It had galleries, great restaurants, several neat parks, and good bus and trolley service. What more could one want.

We would continue to look around because our love for "The Pearl" was based on first impressions, but I think we both felt that something would have to be mighty impressive to be more attractive.

After dinner, Cliff volunteered to go back and stay in the bus so that it wasn't left unattended. He probably wanted to play some video games and have some privacy to chat with some friends as well.

As for the rest of us, we went to Mandy's studio apartment in the Northwest quarter. To a lot of people, the words "studio apartment" conjures up images of a very small apartment where there is perhaps one room doubling as a bedroom, living room, and kitchen, plus a small bathroom.

No...her apartment actually turned out to be an artist studio, and it it is not only open design, it is huge. Also, we discovered a side of her we hadn't known about before: she's an artist. She makes objects out of papier maché and paints them. It seemed most of her objects were animals of various sorts, but that might have been because she had a contract to produce decorations for a Mexican restaurant. I remember a coati mundi, an armadillo, a jaguar (yes, in southern Mexico!), a puma, and some birds. Plus...a piñata.

Mandy still worked in the hotel on a modest salary, and apparently the extra income brought in by sales of her art were enough to pay the $900 a month she pays in rent. This isn't to say she lives a lavish lifestyle. Her shelves (she has no kitchen cupboards) were full of ramen and canned soups as well as basics like flour, sugar, vinegar, molasses and so on. Obviously, she did a lot of scratch cooking. This was verified when she served us some delicious homemade bread with butter and cheese and a jug of Hearty Burgundy.

Before long we were drunk and all getting kind of horny (of course!). Mandy put on some dreamy ambient music and we all got up with our wine glasses in our hands and swayed to the music.

After a couple minutes, Mandy dimmed the lights and stoked a large woodstove that had previously gone unnoticed. She left the stove door open and when it provided enough light, we danced in the warm glow of the flames and embers therein.

Kelsey was the first to start disrobing. The stove was putting out so much heat that she removed her sweater, then her bra, and her gorgeous breasts looked ever so appetizing sharply outlined in the light from the fire. I was next, followed by Mandy. Gina was last. Her chest is all but flat, and I'm afraid she's a little self-conscious about it, but none of us really cares. We all love her. Heaven knows Ray doesn't care.

Mandy stripped down to her panties and the rest of us followed suit. She opened another bottle of wine and put on some soft and sultry saxophone jazz. We continued swaying and it was in the air: we were all horny as could be.

Mandy stepped out of her panties revealing something that gave me a thrill: she had a dark triangle in the pelvic area that, if anything, was blacker than her black hair. It gave me a thrill: I shave, but I have a "thing" for hairy pussies. I wanted to dive down into her crotch so bad! Then, to make matters worse, she produced a bottle of baby oil and oiled her body. We got out of our panties as well and the bottle was passed around.

I wish you could have seen us: four sexy girls gleaming from oil, dancing in the light of the woodstove. It was like what I'd always imagined a witches' sabbath would look like, with naked witches dancing around a bonfire.

Kelsey drew me into her arms and against her pillows. She dropped to rug we'd been dancing on, pulling me on top of her. I slid around on her body. I laughed because it was hard to stay on top of her. So, I finally gave up and slid half off her. I sucked on her nipples, which were already hard.

Soon I sensed that Mandy and Gina were next to us. I glanced and saw Gina planting a kiss on Mandy's lips. Mandy's legs were wrapped around tiny little Gina, both of them grinding their pelvises as they kissed.

Slowly, I kissed my way down to Kelsey's crotch. Her legs opened for me and I pulled her labia apart. Her tiny clit stood to attention and I teased it with the tip of my tongue, and Kelsey writhed with pleasure.

I love this position where a girl's pussy is at my mouth and I can look up at her boobs and face and watch her respond to my ministrations.

By this time, Gina was between Mandy's legs, too, and I know from experience that tiny little Gina's tongue could give an orgasm to a bowling ball. Yeah...she's that good. It didn't take long for Mandy to cry out requesting Gina to stop. But Gina knows better, and Mandy had probably nearly a dozen consecutive little orgasms.

I enjoyed hearing Mandy's cries, and it made me work Kelsey ever harder until she came with a goodly squirt. Kelsey doesn't squirt nearly as readily as I do, so that was something of an accomplishment, and she was totally exhausted, so I joined Mandy and Gina.

By this time, Mandy was giving Gina what for, lying between Gina's legs and going crazy on Gina's little clit. This left Mandy's package vulnerable and I took advantage if the fact. I was so hot I didn't think twice about licking the crack of Mandy's add, running my tongue up and down over her anus, but not sticking my tongue in. If you've never had your tongue in anyone's anal area, it burns the tongue a bit.

Mandy was still hot as hell as evidenced by the drip, drip, drip of liquid out of her pussy. After a bit, I turned onto my back and positioned my mouth under her pussy and, lifting myself up a bit on my elbows, I went to work on her clit, her pussy juice at first wetting my chin, then running down my neck to the floor.

I could tell by Gina's breathing that she was about to cum, and I could tell by Mandy's hip motion, done in contra-rhythm to the rhythm of my tongue, that she was getting there as well.

Gina finally orgasmed with a stifled whimper, and this left Mandy and me to enjoy each other.

Presently, she turned around and got into the classic 69 position, leaving me to admire her gorgeous ass as I licked and probed her vulva with my tongue.

She came with a squirt that left my forehead and hair wet, which sent me over the edge as well. I let go a generous squirt, too, hitting Kelsey with it. She yelled, "Hey, you've got to learn to aim that thing!" and we all rolled around on the floor laughing.

We were all bushed and slept together in Mandy's massive bed, getting up early with Mandy, who had to go to work that day.

After seeing Mandy off, we made our way back to the bus and went about looking for lodging again. A couple days went by when Gina got the most astonishing e-mail about Belinda from Ray. Something had happened to our lovely little hard-luck girl that was so unexpected and incomprehensible, it almost left us speechless.




Sunday, June 15, 2008
The Snow Job
The Trip West, Pt. XVI

NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a story like this, spread over more than one post, you really need to find the first post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.

I stared at my laptop's display for a couple minutes, terrified to open Gina's e-mail, yet knowing that I would surely not sleep if I didn't.

So, at last it opened and I read it: "I took Belinda to a specialist recommended by one of Ray's doctor clients. After a manual examination and an X-ray, he declared that it was unlikely to be malignant, but he recommended excising it to be sure. He said it would leave a hairline scar at most. So...isn't that good news?

"We're bushed and have checked into a hotel. The surgery will be done in his office (it's that simple!) and she'll be kept there for an hour afterward under observation. After that, we'll catch up with you guys wherever you happen to be. Love, Gina."

I have to tell you, I didn't even reach the end of the first paragraph before I burst into tears of joy, for more than you can imagine, I identified with Belinda and wanted to hear some good news.

I knocked on both Kelsey's and Cliff's doors. I pulled them both into a three-way hug and told them the news, that Belinda's lump seemed to be benign and would be removed in just a few hours just to be sure.

They were both glad beyond words.

This is when I realized I was indeed topless and covered my tits with my hands. Kelsey laughed at me and Cliff, with raised eyebrows (and while staring at my hands) said, "Too late, sis!" Then we all had a big laugh and I let my hands down. So he saw my tits. Big deal!

With that, we went back to bed and while I can't speak for them, I slept long and hard, dreaming of fields of wildflowers shimmering in a languorous breeze under a deep blue sky populated by the occasional puffy cloud.

Cliff and Kelsey had been waiting for me for about 30 minutes, I learned, and we had a small late breakfast together of danishes, bacon, and coffee. We decided to hit the road again. It seemed to us (and I'm sure even more to you, the reader) that we had been on the road forever. Would we never reach Portland?

With the help of some of NW's staff and even NW himself, we packed our stuff into the bus, including Belinda and Gina's things. NW and Hilda had been informed of the good news regarding Belinda and were joyous for her, too. So it was a really emotional farewell as Kelsey, Cliff, and I hugged NW and hopped into the bus.

I took the wheel and before long were were on our way to our next destination: Lake Tahoe. I had never been there, but from the photos I'd seen, it was certainly one of the top five or so most beautiful locations in the United States.

The 450 mile drive took about 9 hours what with a brief dinner stop. Ray's company got us a suite of attached rooms Caesar's Palace. Those accommodations probably wouldn't have been available to us otherwise. We might have stayed in the bus, had we been able to find a place to park, but that was in doubt as it was still ski season there and parking was severely limited by mounds of snow.

We had dinner in a hotel restaurant and spent an uneventful night watching movies and drinking before going to bed in our respective rooms. Cliff, an inexperienced drinker, got sloshed on three beers. Hahahaha!

I woke up after a few hours of sleep to be greeted by the orange glow of dawn. I got up and went over to the window, for a moment or two drinking in the beauty of this locale which, in the United States, I'd rate second only to the Grand Tetons in terms of sheer sylvan beauty. I got up, closed the blinds and slept a few more hours until Kelsey knocking on my door awakened me.

"Planning on sleeping all day?" I looked at the nearby clock. It was 11:45! Rubbing my eyes, I replied. "Sorry." "Cliff and I have been having coffee for the last hour and a half, waiting for you to wake up. Get ready, let's have lunch and figure out what to do with the day." "Cool," I said, waving her away. "I'll be out in a jiff."

Over lunch we perused the literature cliff had amassed about activities in the area, which this time of year mostly had to do with skiing, snowboarding, snowmobiling, and so on. We settled on snowboarding and after a few calls found a place that would rent us the gear.

Now, I'm no snow bunny. Yeah, in high school I went with friends a couple times and skied some not very steep slopes in Pennsylvania, mostly spending time falling on my face or ass. So...I wasn't looking forward to this very much since I was sure that snowboarding was, if anything, harder than skiing.

I was right about that, but it was new to Kelsey as well. Cliff, who had done it before, was much better and helped us quite a bit, but soon our struggles got the attention of a young guy who introduced himself as Ross (first name? last name? who knows?

To say that Roth was hot would be an understatement. Who did he look like? Kind of like Justin Timberlake, only very blond. Slender but athletic. Kelsey looked at me and smiled, knowing exactly what was on my mind. Cliff...he was totally oblivious; probably thinking more of Faith than anything else, because at his age every encounter seems pivotal and every relationship, however brief, seems destined to end in a walk down the aisle.

He worked with us for a half hour or so until Kelsey pretty much had the hang of it and Cliff, who was already fairly good, was looking semipro. I'm afraid I wasn't trying that hard because I wanted some 1-on-1 tutoring.

When Roth finally suggested that Cliff and Kelsey go off on their own so he could concentrate on me, they agree, Kelsey doing so with a suppressed chuckle. We all had our cell phones with us, so we agreed we'd get back together later on in the day.

Roth seemed oblivious to my plan, so when I drifted off the edge of the hill and into the woods (don't worry: I had more control than I was letting on to Roth), he followed me. I had fallen into the snow and was laying on my face. I felt him grab the collar of my jacket to lift me up. "Okay?" he asked. "Yeah," I said.

Finding myself on my knees in front of him, I made an attempt to get up but intentionally lost my balance and ended up falling forward and hugging his upper thighs to keep from falling. This put my mouth right over his cock. I regained my balance and looked up at him, still hugging his thighs. He laughed and asked, "Having fun?"

I laughed and said, "Not as much as I'd like to have. Ummm... Mind if I suck your dick?" This took him aback, I could see. "Don't say know," I said, adding "that could be pretty humiliating." He laughed and said, "Actually, you must be a mind reader!"

And so I opened the fly of his pants and stuck my tongue inside. Feeling underwear, I stuck a finger in and pulled it down. Out popped a gorgeous cock. Not a huge cock, but a very pretty one. About 7" inches long, I could deep throat it without choking. I sucked for a minute or two enjoying the change in texture and taste in my mouth as the first seminal fluid (aka "precum") came into my mouth, along with the slightly salty taste that always accompanies it.

I must have sucked for about five minutes when he said, "Want to fuck?" "Absolutely!" I said, pulling my own pants and undies down to my ankles, suddenly finding my bare ass laying on packed snow. Seeing my distress, he removed his jacket and helped me get it under me. Soon, he was in me and fucking me hard. We did a lot of tongue-wrestling along the way.

Deciding to give this cute hunk something special, I pushed him off me and onto his back and, sucking him off again, I stuck my finger up his ass and massaged his prostate while blowing him and jacking him off.

When, presently, his load filled my mouth with semen, I myself came. One of the few times I've ever had an orgasm from circumstances alone, with no direct physical stimulation at or around the vagina. It was strong enough that I felt myself squirt.

"Wow!" he said as he pulled his pants up, "that was something else. I wouldn't mind a little more of that."

Well, fun it had been, but I am quite practical about such things, and while I said that sounded great, I really had no intention of turning a little escapade like this into a big "thing." In no way am I ready for the little cottage with a white picket fence around the yard, 2.5 kids in the yard playing with their puppy and kitty cat. In fact, I have my doubts that anything like that is in my future. By choice.

He told me where he was staying and to make it harder for him to catch up with me later, I told him a lie about staying at a hotel across the lake from Caesar's Palace. He then told me his intended agenda for the evening, and I made a mental note to avoid those places.

When we got back to the hotel, guess who was waiting for us? Okay, you've probably guessed it was Gina and Belinda, with good news: indeed, the lump in Belinda's breast was not malignant. Belinda pulled open the collar of her sweater to show a tiny scar with just about three stitches. I could believe that in a year or two, after completely healing, it would just be a hairline scar and would not deform her in any way.

We took turns hugging Belinda and telling her how glad we were that this had turned out well. She still seemed a little gloomy, though, and we had to remind ourselves of something she, doubtless, could not easily put out of her mind: that not only had she been disowned by her family over the love of her life, but that her lover had then died in a horrible accident.

We ended up having dinner across the state line at a restaurant we could walk to, after which we gathered in my room and watched a couple movies before going to bed.

The next morning, as we'd arranged, we met downstairs for breakfast. Belinda was the last to show. She explained that she had received a call just as she was leaving her room. She was being summoned back to Italy. Why? we all asked almost in unison. "For the reading of the wills."

Are you going? we asked in our various ways. Her eyes flooded with tears. "I...I don't know. I'm almost out of money." Now, I know what you're thinking: Gina could certainly arrange to fly her there, through the executive jet company her boyfriend Ray owns. But I could feel that Belinda was starting dread prevailing on her friend for yet another big favor.

This is when Kelsey pulled an envelope out of her purse. I recognized it from two nights earlier, when we had made $1000 screwing the cowboy in the downtown casino hotel.

"Jill and I won this," she lied. "We have decided that you need it far more than we do." "I can't..." Belinda started to say, but I shushed her and said, "It no longer belongs to us. We just gave it to you. Go to Italy. It's worth $1000 to us just to find out what's going on.

Belinda wept openly. "You've all been such good friends." Cliff took her hand and put his arm around her shoulder.

After breakfast, I took Belinda to a nearby bank and we wired the $1000 to her account. When the transfer had been completed, we went to my room and I helped her arrange the trip for her return to Italy, which to my surprise, still left her with a few hundred dollars.

The trip would begin at Reno, take her to Las Vegas, then New York, and from there to Milano (Milan). From there, she would take a bus to Como. She would be staying with an older cousin of Franco, and her husband. She had to be in Reno in six hours, the bus ride is about two, so she packed and we saw her onto the bus to Reno. We crossed our fingers and wished her the best. And it was no pro forma wish: We all loved her and hoped she was going to hear some good news. Perhaps she'd been left something.

After seeing Belinda off, we gathered our stuff and got into the bus. There, we sat down with a bunch of maps and decided to push on to Medford, Oregon. (Oregon! at last!) It was about 300 miles, which on a flat highway would take about 5.5 to 6 hours. Through mountains in a bus, and with a couple scenery stops where we jumped out of the bus to take some photos, it turned out to be about 8.

We found a friendly bar, pulled into their parking lot for the night, and went inside for some hamburgers and beers. We played cards that night, speaking little of our unlucky friend. In fact, we spoke so little of her precisely because she was all we could think about. After we made ready for bed, and as we were all drifting off to sleep, Gina wondered aloud, "I wonder where Belinda is about now?"

I did some mental calculations and said, "I believe she's somewhere over the Atlantic. She should be in Italy before we wake up."

That night, I thought of Belinda and all she had been through. That made me sad. Finally being in Oregon, though, was making me happy. In one day, I'd finally be in Portland starting to look for a new home.

With that contradictory blend of feelings churning around in my head, I somehow managed to get to sleep.

A new day was dawning in so many ways.




More Pussy Than I Could Possibly Lick
In A Million Years

SapphicErotica must be a huge organization to be putting up lesbian videos and photos at the rate they do. I mean...it's just astonishing! And Sapphic chicks are so unlike the Met-Art and Hegre girls. They truly look like American "girl next door" girls, though someone told me most of them are actually from The Czech Republic, Hungary, The Slovak Republic, Russia and other Eastern European places, and that the locations are all there as well. Go figure. They look like American girls to me!

VIDEO

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PHOTOS

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Saturday, June 7, 2008
Feminists Backing John McCain? WTF?!!!
(my involuntary rant on misguided feminism)

Here's another reason (among many) the "feminists" bug me. There's talk among feminists of backing McCain.

Yes...Hillary lost to Barack Obama. Yes, he did call a reporter "sweetie." Did he fuck her in The Oval Office, like Hillary's husband did? No! There's no evidence he doesn't like women or thinks their just a blowjob on legs.

Both candidates are human.

As for the Michigan/Indiana primary votes question, Hillary's Army seems put out that the outcome didn't favor Hillary 100%. But, let's face it: this was a problem caused by renegade democratic committies in those states to start with. Naturally, one expects Obama's supporters to push for one result and Hillary's supporters to push for another. Just as naturally, that the ultimate outcome was a compromise is no surprise, either. What is surprising is how rude her supporters were at the Rules Committee hearing and how bitter they were that the Committee didn't just roll over for them.

If you believe in Democracy, you understand that it's all about compromise and waiting your turn. Hillary's turn may come in four or eight years, but not if her supporters continue to make asses out of themselves and threaten not to play at all if they don't like the score. The following pardigmatic old-school feminist Hillary supporter can't seem to grasp the plain fact that a lot of women prefer Barack Obama over Hillary Clinton, and not only because they like his looks. She, for better or worse, represents old politics many of us want thrown out of Washington.

Study after study has shown that women will not automatically vote for a candidate based on sex, and many of us (and I'm not taking sides here) actually prefer having men in leadership roles. That's a reality. It's the way it is.

All that aside, for me, the astounding main message is that, sooner than anyone thought possible, a racial minority or a woman can be taken seriously for the Presidency by one of the major parties, and that party certainly isn't the Republican Party. My dad is blown away. Thought he'd never live long enough to see either. He's so proud of his country. Great Britain is smug about the way it has absorbed its Indian and Pakistani minority, but how soon do you think it will be that an Indian or Pakistani will be considered for Prime Minister?

They could surprise us, I suppose, but don't hold your breath!

And before you ask why I'm not quoting my mom, it's because, like many women, she's simply not very political. The feminists, who are radicals, seem to believe they can get women voting as a bloc. The trouble is, almost all of them are urban women. If they would bother to visit towns in places like rural Ohio, Kansas, or Nebraska, they'd discover how far away they are from having a bloc like that. For any woman to become President, she'll have to appeal to men as well. Not on a sexual level, which to my shame is the appeal Obama has to many women, but as someone who can make hard choices like dealing with 9/11-like situations. Someone who can stomach sending bombers out on missions that will likely kill innocents collaterally.

We're talking someone along the lines of a Golda Meier or a Margaret Thatcher. Men would vote for a female like that, but not one who is cute.

I might add here that a lot of women have never forgiven Hillary for her famous cookie baker comment in which she seemed to dismiss housewives as irrelevant. Come to think ot it, my own apolitical mom, who, while she has had a few part-time jobs in teaching or library work, was almost always there to welcome me home after school, frequently with some nice, warm freshly-baked cookies...she always looks at Hillary with disdain whenever she appears on TV. She says nothing, but I can feel her disgust in the air.

I also think that Hillary's voice, a shrill and nasal monotone, has never worked in her favor. Gina thinks her voice is just a notch more pleasant than the sound of a dentist drill. She also lacks taste to a painful degree on occasion, as when she adopted the brogue of a poor southern black while addressing a black audience:

I read somewhere once that what characterizes all radicalism, left or right is that it values purity above victory. In other words, it's a form of obsession. Compromise, they feel, leaves you with dirty hands. Better to lose than give everyone involved some satisfaction. Better to wait until you can convert everyone to your cause. Which is why radical politics fails so frequently.

But let's take a look at what a McCain victory would mean.

Do you value your abortion rights, ladies? You have no ally in John McCain. Do you value your online freedom to read and see what you like? Do you, like me, feel that porn, literary or pictorial, is merely masturbation material and that it's harmless? Well, that view isn't the Republican view. They feel that the Internet is something threatening that needs governmental control.

Funny how they feel choice and lack of governmental interference is what's important in health care, but quite the opposite is what's called for on the Internet.

The Republicans talk about how the Internet promotes rape and destroys the family, but let's face it: if a guy has masturbated, he's in no mood to rape anyone. Porn probably prevents far more rapes than it promotes. And as for the destruction of the family, why do Republicans fight tooth and nail to prevent us from taking time off from work to care for children or ill relatives?

Health care is another issue you can't rely on Republicans to help us with. McCain's notion is that what we need is more choices and tax credits. If anything demonstrates how out of touch the Republicans are with the reality so many of us live, that lays it bare.

The problem many have, especially those freelancing in the arts, is no healthcare, which I suppose is the ultimate "lack of choice." I know a freelancer who says, "I can choose between having affordable health care that really is just coverage for catastrophes, because it only kicks in after I've spent quite a bit of money, and then the copays are ridiculous, which makes it impossible to afford regular office visits, tests, and the ongoing health maintenance everyone needs. Or...you can do what I do which is to forgo insurance and take care of paying for ongoing health maintenance trusting that if something catastrophic happens, I'll be one of the many who gets treated in the Emergency Room making rates higher for those who do have insurance. One thing Sicko taught me is that even if you do have health insurance, there's no guarantee they will pay anyway."

If you haven't seen Sicko, the Michael Moore documentary on the American health care fiasco, rent it. It will open your eyes. Prisoners at Guantanamo may be abused by their guards, but if injured, they are guaranteed better health care than millions of Americans have.

Quite frankly, talk of a Hillary VP nomination aside (I think it won't happen), we could get the best of both worlds as far as health care and other issues we care about with a strong Democratic win in November putting Barack in the White House and leaving Hillary in the Senate to shepherd a proposal for a national health care system through.

Anyway, I hope this is my one and only rant at the feminists about the upcoming election.

But...you never know...


Friday, May 30, 2008
Hope And Faith
The Trip West, Pt. XV

NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a story like this, spread over more than one post, you really need to find the first post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.

Apparently, Belinda and I were the last to wake up. It was nearly 10 a.m. We got up together and showered together. I gave her the full treatment, washing her hair and her body, after which she did the same for me.

After we were both clean, we toweled off. She caught me looking at that breast. The one with the lump. She took my hand and put it where I could feel it. I would guess it was about as far around as a dime and it seemed round, like a marble only smaller, with a circumference about the same as a dime's. Anyway, as I touched it I got goosebumps. Was this all there was, as I fervently hoped, or was it evidence that the shadow of death was spreading all through her sublime body?

At 10:45 or so, we found everyone waiting for us in the smaller of NW's two dining rooms, which was more family size than banquet size. Even so, there were still a few empty chairs even with all of us there.

As we walked in, everyone's eyes were on Belinda. They all bore vague smiles which they exaggerated momentarily as a kind of greeting. Some of them gave a tentative little wave as well.

NW was there, too, and he said "Welcome, Belle." Gina, who was sitting next to him spoke to him behind her hand, and he corrected himself by saying it again, "Welcome, Belinda."

Cliff had held two seats next to him for Belinda and me, and I put her between us. Probably not what he had expected, but clearly he and Belinda had developed a bit of a rapport through their common nerdiness and I felt that she'd be comfortable being between Cliff and me.

Knowing Gina, with the wealth and resources she had at her disposal, I was sure she was working on something to help Belinda, and I was equally sure that Belinda wouldn't be sleeping under any bridges despite being disinherited. She might not lead the life of unbridled opulence she had grown accustomed to, but she could look forward to a comfortable life with these good friends and more to come.

Assuming, of course, she would have a long life free of cancer.

(Strange, how quickly your attitude can change. I've always resented the way I felt so helplessly attracted to her, making her the one part of my life that seemed hopelessly out of control. Now...I didn't feel that at all. I didn't even feel pity, despite her misfortunes. I felt a healthy sympathy and, finally, a healthy and genuine love.)

After Hilda started bringing in the food, the mood normalized quite a bit and I found Belinda and Cliff engaging in friendly small talk, which made me happy. As I had hoped, he was taking her mind off her troubles.

It was becoming just like any other breakfast I'd had with these friends, comfortable and jovial and without the "elephant in the room" of Belinda's overwhelming trials and tribulations. Whatever lay ahead, she would not be alone.

After breakfast, as Belinda and I were tidying up our respective rooms, I saw Gina walk past my doorway at a nice clip, her cell phone flipped open, so I stuck my head out and saw her go in to talk to Belinda.

Moments later, Gina appeared at my bedroom door, Belinda in tow, and said, "We're flying to LA. Probably be back tomorrow." If it had been a pleasure trip, she would have invited the rest of us to tag along. She did not, so I assume we would have simply slowed her down.

NW had to go for the day, leaving the rest of us on our own. We were given one of NW's cars to use and were told by Hilda "Not the Bentley, of course," which I'm sure had little to do with its value (somewhere near $200,000) and more to do with it being his personal toy.

We looked the menagerie over, which must have included about fifteen cars, and it was Cliff who said simply, "gold Caddy!," and sure enough, down at one end of the garage was a Cadillac. A Cadillac convertible from that era when cars had fins, and Cadillac fins were the tallest and proudest of the lot. It was an old car, but it didn't look old. It looked like the day it rolled off the assembly line. Even better! It looked like it had rolled off the assembly line and straight into a detailing shop. The paint and chrome shone in an almost spectral and otherworldly fashion. I could see from the gleam in Kelsey's eyes that the Caddy was the car for her, too. And me, I was sold at first glance.

Elvis had a Caddy like this beauty, I believe.

The drive into town took about 20 minutes, and we parked near the strip, tipping the attendant in advance to keep an eye on it. Kelsey and I had probably been thinking about doing a little gambling, until Cliff asked quite casually, "Am I old enough to go into a Casino? Is 18 old enough?" We all stopped dead in our tracks. Kelsey looked at me and said, "It's 21, isn't it?" I said, "Yes, it is." We had forgotten all about that.

No casino that day. Neither Kelsey nor I would humiliate him by abandoning him in one of those stupid rooms with video games for kids whose parents are gambling. Nor would we drop him off in a mall while we played the slots. We found a restaurant to snack in and over cold sandwiches decided to hit a movie. That killed most of the afternoon. Then we decided to walk to downtown Vegas.

If you've never been to Vegas you may not realize that it has two gambling centers. The "strip" is the new part of town with the huge casino hotels you hear about: The Wynn, The Luxor, The Belagio, Mandalay Bay, and all the rest of that luxurious ilk. Downtown is where you'll find the original Las Vegas and a lot of the real gamblers. By this I mean the people who gamble professionally as opposed to the vacation gamblers and so-called "whales' (big spenders).

So, we turned on our heels, had the baffled attendant get our car for us again just minutes after he'd parked it, and we headed downtown, Kelsey at the wheel.

Downtown is small and seedy by comparison with the strip, which is not to say that the hotels are small. They'd be large in most other cities, but while they are large, many of the top ones on the strip are unbelievably vast, able to house several times as many people.

The main casino drag downtown is covered and the arched ceiling puts on a light show after dark. Near the downtown drag is a very nice theater, so we watched two movies.

By the time we left the theater, it was early evening and we were getting hungry. We looked around and found an Italian restaurant in one of the Casinos. It was plain and simple Italian fare, which suited us fine. None of that "Swiss Italian stuff," as dad calls the tomato-free Northern Italian fare.

The waitress was so cute. We chatted her up, discovering that she was just 18 herself, the same age as Cliff. She was attending UNLV. She was a short girl with flowing blond hair that went halfway down her back. She wore short shorts tight enough to show that she had an incredible ass. They also revealed very shapely legs. In the boob department, I'm guessing she was a large A-cup, or small B.

Her makeup was perfect for a girl serving food in a mid-priced restaurant: very natural with just enough emphasis to highlight her eyelashes and eyebrows. Natural blondes with blond body and eye hair can sometimes look a little blah in the face without darkening the eyelashes and eyebrows a bit. She did it just right. Not too dark. By contrast, her lips were out and out Chinese red. She looked fabulous.

I wanted to do her myself, as did Kelsey. But poor Cliff could barely hide his helpless attraction to this little demi-goddess. In my mind I was afraid he'd lose control and say or do something nerdily outrageous. But he managed to restrain himself. Even so, he did stumble a bit through the ordering process, trying to act more worldly about food than he was.

When the little doll left, he realized Kelsey and I were both looking at him, barely keeping ourselves from laughing out loud. We lost it when he looked back and forth at us and said..."What?!" The smile she gave us when she heard us laugh told me she understood. She'd picked up on his infatuation.

I was realizing how young and naive Cliff was. How much a prisoner of his adolescent hormones he was. How every pretty girl caught his attention and held him in her thrall. First it was the girl he had had trouble with back in Cleveland, then Belinda, and now this little blond cutie. Well, Belinda had the same effect on me. Quite unintentionally. So, I guess you're never immune. He was still getting that attraction thing under control, though. I wondered if he'd ever gotten laid. I doubted it.

Maybe we could fix that.

We had ordered spaghetti with meatballs, lasagne, and ricotta-filled ravioli to be served "family style" in bowls, which came with a refreshingly crisp and fresh bowl of salad and a basket full of ciabatta rolls with our choice of butter or olive oil to go with them.

Continuing our repartee with the waitress, we discovered that her name was Faith and that she was a psych major. Funny how young people think the world needs more shrinks, and sometimes it's the most messed-up cases who seem to want to become one. Well, Faith seemed mentally healthy enough, though being so attractive hardly seemed an asset for someone delving into the depths of other people's psyches. People with issues would likely find her looks a distraction.

It turned out that Faith was from Oregon. A city named Tigard, which is a suburb of Portland. That gave us lots to talk about. She recommended places to go and things to see and do, which was all quite fascinating. Despite being such a stunner, she was quite down to earth. I thought she'd make a nice friend.

One surprise was that she turned out to be quite a sci-fi fan, which I was glad for because it brought Cliff into the conversation and so, in bits and snatches (for she had to serve other tables in addition to ours) they got into a conversation about Battlestar Galactica, a show which I know has been getting good reviews, but which I hadn't had time to get into. You see, I work, I write, I eat, I eliminate what I eat, and I sleep. And whenever I can, I get myself laid. Not much time for TV, but when I do watch it, it tends to be nature shows.

She was about to get off work so we asked her if she had time to show us around the area a bit, and she agreed. We offered to pay her, but she declined. So, we waited out front for her for about 15 minutes while she finished off her shift. When she joined us, she led us all around the downtown area, dutifully pointing out this and that, offering little tidbits of trivia or history. At the same time, she and Cliff kept wide-ranging discussion of sci-fi going. Clearly, they were getting into each other.

That made me feel good, for here was a girl who was realistic, available, and shared his interests. She also seemed quite kind and unlikely ever to abuse him in any way. You know, there's a lot of talk about sex abuse by men, but women have their ways of abusing men as well, and all under the veil of "You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?"

I announced that Kelsey and I wanted to gamble, and even though I hadn't consulted with her at all, Kelsey knew why I was doing it and went along with it as if I had. We wanted to let Cliff be alone with this girl for a while and by wanting to go where he and Faith couldn't follow (both being under the magic age of 21), we could detach ourselves from them and let them enjoy each other for a while.

Assuming Faith went along, of course...

If Faith had prior plans for the evening, she said nothing. Clearly, she was interested in Cliff, if not totally smitten. Perhaps she was merely entertained. Perhaps he was making her panties damp. I couldn't tell. What was clear was that she didn't mind spending more time with him.

We agreed to be in touch with Cliff later by cell phone, and so Kelsey and I went to the nearest casino and decided to have a little fun. Sneaky fun.

I went to a poker table that had a couple empty chairs. Sitting there were a nice-looking guy whose face was hidden under a cowboy hat and a chubby woman of about 50 whose eyes were half closed and appeared ready to drift off at any moment.

I introduced myself. The cowboy looked up and smiled, held out his hand, and said to call him Buck. The older woman's eyes widened a bit. "Sarah" was all she said. Our dealer was an Asian woman of, I'd guess, 40. She spoke with an accent that hinted at Chinese. When she spoke, which was only to do what the dealer does, there was no hint of banter between her and the players at this table.

After a couple hands, along came Kelsey holding a glass of gin and tonic. "Mind if I watch? What are you playing?" Sarah said, "Texas Holdem." "I don't mind," said Buck, whose eyes had definitely rested on Kelsey's deep cleavage a bit too long. I feigned simply going along with the consensus, avoiding eye contact with my friend.

So, from then on, Kelsey clung to the cowboy's side, asked him questions, and assessing the strength of his hands.

We had devised a code whereby Kelsey would pick one of the players and simply signal if what she saw was good for the player (and thus hard for me to beat) by putting a finger to her lip. If she saw he was bluffing, she would cross her arms. That player turned out to be Buck, the cowboy.

It only gave me an advantage over one player and only a small advantage, so it took a goodly number of hands for me to amass a large chip advantage. Buck still won a few hands and Sarah certainly won her share. She was no worse off then before.

Buck said, "I think I'd like a drink. Maybe it'll change my luck." Kelsey jumped in with, "Oh, what do you guys want? I'll get you all drinks for letting me watch and helping me learn." We all placed our drink orders and she was off.

We played two more hands while she was gone.

As Kelsey distributed the drinks, Sarah looked at Kelsey first and then me saying, "And so...how long have you gals known each other? And don't tell me you just met here at this table tonight!"

The dealer laughed for the first time and Buck looked around with a "WTF?" expression on his face.

The dealer got very serious all of a sudden and said, "I can have the both of you thrown out. Maybe worse."

"Aw," said Buck, "they was just havin' fun with us." Sarah said, "I'm no worse off. If Buck doesn't care, let's see what happens when these two play fair."

I looked at Sarah and asked, "When did you first suspect?" "Pretty early on." "What gave us away?" "Hard to say but, honey, I earn my living at poker. For one thing, you seemed to avoid looking at her. Two pretty girls at a table are usually sizing each other up."

Enough said. I guess I have no future as a pro poker player.

Buck and Sarah were happy to let us continue to play, probably knowing full well they'd be able to win it back if we played fair. So, I split the chips with Kelsey and within two hours we'd lost it all, mostly to the cowboy. I actually think Sarah held back a bit to be fair to the cowboy. Maybe she had a soft spot for him. Maybe she was hoping to get laid.

Unfortunately, it was Kelsey and me he invited to join him for drinks after the game broke up. Sarah shrugged resignedly and wandered over to another table.

Because we had had a few at the table, the two additional rounds of drinks made us pretty giddy, and so we accepted Buck's invitation to go up to his room. This was not one of the high-end strip hotels, understand. Far from it, this was one of the older, seedy downtown hotels. As soon as we entered his room, which had obviously had maid service since he was last in it, we were hit by an indefinably unpleasant smell that had tobacco as its single most obvious element, but probably included decaying foam rubber and odors related to the various human effluents. Those related to sexual reproduction in particular.

Obviously, Buck was of a mind to try for a twofer, which is what we had in mind as well, so it was definitely a "go" as far as that went. However, I was hit by a wave of responsibility as I realized that Cliff was out there either with Faith or wandering around alone. I ducked into the bathroom and tried to call him quickly on my cell phone. No answer.

When I exited the bathroom, the cowboy's pants and underwear were down at his ankles, which, since he was also wearing fancy cowboy boots, looked absurd. I almost laughed. Until I saw his cock, that is. It was not particularly long, but when it came to girth it was in a class by itself. I mean, he had a miniature fireplug for a dick!

And not so miniature... It was bigger around than my wrist, even if it was only about 6" long.

Kelsey wanted to fuck, but being fully clothed presented a problem there, so she signaled for me to take over, and as I did so she disrobed.

I nearly had to unhinge my jaw to accommodate him, and in fact I heard at least one mumbled ouch as I tried to get his dick into my mouth. If he complained further, or wanted to, I didn't hear it for Kelsey squatted on his face, giving his mouth something else to do, and his dick, already hard, got as hard as granite.

That didn't last for long, though.

I needed to get naked, too, so I got up and tapped Kelsey on the shoulder, an opportunity she didn't waste for she shuffled backward and got that dick of his in her before I could even my panties off! She sat on his pelvis and let him pump away.

So, once I was undressed, I took my place on his face, oriented facing back, so that Kelsey and I could kiss each other while he entertained our pussies with his mouth and cock.

I must say, whatever he lacked in length in the penis department he more than made up for in the tongue department, for not only did I get my clit licked expertly but I could swear the tip of his tongue caressed my cervix from time to time. It was the weirdest sensation.

Kelsey fell off him onto the floor into a steaming heap of quivering flesh. She had had her orgasm...

My turn!

My thoughts turned to my brother again, so I needed to take a shortcut to orgasm. I sat down on his dick, helping it into my asshole, which I assure you hurt at first, but soon my sphincter totally relaxed and the noises he was making were quite convincing: he was having a good time.

However, my anus wasn't lubed up. The only "lube" (if you can call it that) was Kelsey's pussy juice. Protracted ass fucking would have soon been unpleasant, so I went about working his cock with my anal sphincter while masturbating with great intensity with a mind to getting us both off fairly quickly.

He came first, for I could feel him going soft inside me (never once have I felt semen in me at the moment of ejaculation). With this, I really let myself go and soon I had my own orgasm and rolled off him to one side.

Kelsey knew I wanted to find Cliff without being told, and by the time I had cooled off enough to start getting dressed again, she was way ahead of me and actually helped me out.

The cowboy wanted some post-sex chitchat and offered us some whiskey, but I told him that we really had to be on our way. Checking my watch I was shocked to see it was a bit past 3:30 a.m.

I did need to visit the bathroom before we went (if I didn't want a big blotch of semen forming in my panties, and took care of the problem as quickly as I could. As soon as I emerged, I found Kelsey and Buck at the door, which he was holding open for us.

As we left, he invited us to return the next night and we gave him an extremely insincere promise to consider doing so, just to shut him up.

We hightailed it back to the garage and took the elevator to the floor where the car was parked. We walked toward the car, not seeing Cliff. I looked glumly at Kelsey as if to say, "What now?"

That's when we heard a moan coming from the car and a distinctly feminine knee came into view. The knee was moving (or being moved) rhythmically. It was Faith's knee. Obviously, she was getting pretty severely dicked by my little brother.

Kelsey, despite being as beat as I was, stifled a chuckle and said, "Cliff's fucking her brains out, isn't he?" I looked at her with a proud smile as if to say, "My little bro is a rather studly nerd!"

"I don't have the heart to interrupt them," I said. "Or embarrass them, either," Kelsey added. I looked around and saw a stairwell. I pointed it out to Kelsey. We tippy-toed to the stairwell and sat on the landing where they wouldn't see us.

We sat there whispering now and then about the day we'd had, but listening from time to time for evidence that Cliff and Faith had finished. Kelsey reached into her purse at one point, pulling out $1000 in $100 bills! "Where did you get that?" I asked. "Can you believe it?" said Kelsey, "Buck paid us for our services. We were hookers tonight, love."

It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. I covered my mouth and stifled the loud guffaw that desperately wanted to get out. My initial response after that was to be mad at Kelsey for taking the money, but...what the hell. It's not like we had charged him $1000.

I thought for a moment and said, "I don't really want it. Let's do something nice for Belinda with it." "Yeah," said Kelsey. "She hasn't been cut many breaks lately, has she?"

At last, we heard them talking and chuckling and cooing. Then we heard the car door open. We took this as our cue to pretend we had just arrived on the scene. We found that Faith had just gotten out of the car.

Kelsey and I pretended not to notice how disheveled Faith was, as she tried to make sure what she'd been doing didn't seem overly obvious by distracting us with small talk while she made sure her clothing was tidy.

"I was about to find a bus or taxi to go home," she said. "Don't bother," I said, "we'll drive you."

It was well after 4:30 by the time we trundled back into NW's place.

We went to our respective rooms. I showered and brushed my teeth and was about ready to go to bed when I realized I hadn't checked e-mail in quite some time.

Checking my laptop, there was a message from Gina. The subject was simply "Belinda." I was almost afraid to open it, but at the same time I could never sleep without knowing what it contained.




Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Portland Update

Let's take a little break from my adventures on the way out here, and I'll give you a bit of an update. Our company had no local presence in Portland. To open up a branch office, we had to scout out locations, evaluate them, offer upper-level management some options, and once that was done (which took a good 2 months), it was on to the even more daunting task of staffing the office.

We were loaned ten experienced staffers from within the company. They would get the ball rolling and play a key role in training the local hires. So the office is finally up and running and is, I'd say, at about 90% of peak efficiency. I'm guessing we'll reach that point in a few months, certainly by the end of the year. The bosses seem to think things are moving along fine.

In the story of the trip, it's still springtime, but in real life I've been through my first full Portland summer and winter, and wow, what a difference from Cleveland. The summers are far less humid than Cleveland's. As a local explained it to me, "Summer in Portland is much more like summer in Las Vegas than summer in a midwestern or eastern city because in the summer the weather tends to come from the interior desert country, in the winter from the ocean." Of course, Las Vegas is far hotter. Only a few Portland weeks were truly hot, pleasant temps in the 70's and 80's were more common.

As for winters, the big news was no blizzards. No ice. In fact, no snow at all down here in the city! Of course, in Portland, if you want snow you can drive to it even in summer. In winter, there are far more skiing opportunities than you have anywhere in Ohio or even the East. Not even Maine offers anything like what's an easy drive from Portland.

Speaking of driving, Portland is perhaps the ecologically greenest city in the United States, and believe it or not, I sold my car and am now living without one. I live in a nice apartment in the so-called "Pearl District," which used to be a warehouse/industrial area, but has been gentrifying (along with adopting the made-up name "The Pearl"). It now is the center of Portland's art galleries (though it's far too expensive for 99% of artists to actually live there. Artists tend to live in the Southeast quarter of town along Hawthorne, or in the newly lively close-in North quarter.

This reminds me: there are many strange and funny things about Portland, one of which is that the city is divided into "quarters," of which there are actually five, not four. There's Northeast, Northwest, Southeast, Southwest, and then there's the fifth quarter, the North.

Anyway, I live right on Portland's Trolley line and on a bus line that runs fairly frequently. When I want a car, I can rent one, and while I haven't taken advantage of it yet, the Zipcar service allows you to rent a car anywhere from an hour or two to overnight at a very reasonable rate. (Zipcar operates in a number of cities, as you'll find out if you click on the link. It may even operate where you live!

Because Portland has such fabulous public transit, I'm spared insurance and upkeep costs, and car payments, and did I mention the cost of gasoline?!!! I'm happy as a clam to live without a car. Between the raise I got when moving out here and the lower car expenses, I've been able to upgrade my living quarters by renting a condo from its owner. I live in an apartment I'd never be able to afford in Northern Ohio where life without a car would be all but impossible..

From my apartment, I can see Mount Hood, and below my window is the cutest little park with a pond and terraces where, on a nice day, you can see people catching rays, reading, or making out with each other.

I've also discovered a very entertaining radio show which broadcasts live, in real time, over the Internet and, also, I think, in podcast form. It's The Rick Emerson Show on KCMD 970 AM. Here is their webpage, and on the left of the page is their "listen live" link. His show runs from 10 a.m. until 3 p.m., but the first hour is a "recap" of an hour from the previous day's show.

Rick is one of those people with the true "gift for gab." He seemingly never runs out of things to say about whatever the topic of the moment happens to be. The show is also graced by two exceptional co-hosts or sidekicks, whatever you want to call them.

Tim Riley has probably the most interesting delivery of any newsman I've ever heard, on radio or television. He delivers news with a devilish relish for the offbeat or shocking. He runs a rather oddball news blog here. If you want to hear his delivery, you'll be better off listening to one of the Rick Emerson Show's live shows or podcasts, though. There's precious little of Riley reading news on his blog.

Rick's other helper on the show is the show's producer, Sarah X. Dylan, who runs her own blog here, which is interesting but difficult to describe because it runs the gamut from commentary on pop culture to celebrity gossip to highlighting the weird and wonderful and oddball news of the day. Check it out.

Did I mention that Sarah is (as the expression goes) "hot as balls"? Sarah, I want to get in your pants! Sarah runs contrary to the maxim that "If a woman is pretty and in broadcasting, she's in TV, not radio." I understand she had a run-in with TV that included them insisting on her dyeing her hair a natural color (it seems she likes streaks of hot pink in her hair). She has a vaguely Bettie Page look to her, by which I'm referring to her Page-esque bangs and a figure that from what I've been able to see is rather curvy in a most delicious way (but without of that 1950's fullness of figure that characterized Miss Page). Any way, here is her Myspace page.

But here is my personal plea to Sarah: Sarah, I see you smoking in a lot of the photos. If you don't want to be dragging an oxygen canister around with you in 20 years (or, worse, laying in a bed counting your remaining days off one by one), give it up. I know you have the strength to stop smoking!

One of the most endearing things about the show is the way they talk about each other's foibles. Rick has his insecurities, such as his self-consciousness about his hair loss, which he apparently took care of by taking advantage of one of the show's sponsors, a hair restoration surgery clinic. He's an admitted geek and nerd, and if he has an on-air flaw, it's spending far too much time talking about nerdy things (video games, in particular). One can almost hear Sarah snoring in the background and Tim wondering how many sponsors are listening and thinking about canceling their ads.

As for Sarah, her apparently almost nightly clubbing and partying are a frequent topic as is whatever is going on in her love life. She handles these intrusions with admirable dignity and aplomb.

Tim comes off as a bit of a milquetoast. A vegan, one can often almost feel him squirming whenever the topic turns to meat, as it frequently does, for Sarah and especially Rick are definitely of the carnivorian ilk.

Give The Rick Emerson show a listen via their "Listen Live" feed, but remember, the show's 10 a.m.-3 p.m. hours are in the Pacific Time Zone. Adjust your listening time accordingly and remembering that the first hour repeats a portion of the day before. The actual live show begins at 11 a.m. Pacific.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that Rick has his own blog here.

As for local TV, considering that Portland is a smaller market than Cleveland, the TV news is overall done much better in Portland. As with most of America, and with the exception of PBS programming, the local morning shows, and those local access shows with microscopic audiences, most of it comes from the national networks.

For someone from a major Midwestern and/or Eastern city, one of the biggest shocks upon moving to Portland is that it's so, well, white. Sure, there are black people, and Portlanders are very liberal, generally, when it comes to race, but the contrast between downtown Cleveland and downtown Portland is stark and impossible to ignore. It feels like ninety-five perdent of the people on the street in Portland are white or Asian. Blacks seem to be few and far between, although there are black neighborhoods here where well over 50% of the residents are black and most of the local shops are black owned.

By contrast, if you're a white person walking around in downtown Cleveland, you'll soon realize that you are the racial minority there. Fully 75% of the people on downtown Cleveland streets the last time I visited were black. Asians? I don't think I saw any.

While there are a fair amount of closed storefronts here in Portland, some no doubt due to the current recession, but many due to the major construction going on downtown as well, it's nothing like the disaster area of downtown Cleveland, where away from the bustling Terminal Tower complex, things can be pretty grim.

If you like food, Portland is a great place. It's a restaurant town with fantasic fare of almost all kinds. What it lacks that Cleveland has is really good old-fashioned Italian restaurants serving pasta with tomato-based sauces. Sylvia's restaurant probably meets that description best here, but in Cleveland it'd be rated only a fair example of this traditional type of restaurant. Even worse is the corned beef situation. Kornblatt's does a fairly good job, but their corned beef sandwich contains about half the corned beef of one you'd buy at Corky & Lenny's in Cleveland Heights, and of course with the overall health-nuttiness of the Pacific Northwest, corned beef is invariably served lean here, whereas any corned beef lover knows that the most succulent corned beef is riddled with fat. (Take that, Tim Riley.)

Well, more on Portland on another day. Just thought you'd like an update on my new life in Portland. Don't worry, I have new friends out here. I'm getting laid and having other sexual adventures, and once I'm done describing the trip to Portland, I'll be getting into those.




I Love Glass Toys!

I got another toy to review from PleasureMeNow.com. I just love glass toys because they're so firm and smooth. Even on this one, which has those bumps on it, the bumps are smooth. They give it texture, but it's not rough or abrasive.

I'd like to tell you want it's called, but it can be found at PleasureMeNow.com in the Glass Dildos department. At this writing, it's temporarily out of stock, but stock is due back in soon. Don't worry, there are lots of other glass toys I wish I had there as well.

Now, I used this one mostly on my clit and labia and didn't insert it until I the end was near, because I do think the texture would become uncomfortable in the vagina after a while.

And the great thing about glass toys is they're so easily sanitized. In general, the thought of using someone else's sex toy gives me the creeps, but a glass toy can be washed off in the sink. If you want to sanitize it even more, rub some alcohol on it. Actually, what I do is the easiest thing of all: I simply run it through the dishwasher on heated dry along with a load of dishes. The heated dry kills any germs on either the toy or the dishes.

By the way, I'm not the only one who likes it. I gave it to a girl in my apartment building who's become a friend (heh, heh) and I couldn't believe my eyes: She used it in her ass and gave herself a squirting orgasm in about only two minutes!

Anyway, click on the following link if you want to find out more about their glass toys.


Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Belle's Hell
The Trip West, Pt. XIV

NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a story like this, spread over more than one post, you really need to find the first post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.

It took three loud fusillades of knocks to get Belle to open her door.

She came out in a robe and looked up and down the hallway. As she did so, the others popped back into their rooms. The only one left besides us was a very disheveled looking Hilda, who offered to make us hot chocolate.

I accepted for both of us and we waited wordlessly in a little alcove off the side of the kitchen. When Hilda brought us the steaming mugs of chocolate, I thanked her and she left us alone to talk.

I held Belle's hand. "Your emotions have been all over the place lately. I've been waiting for you to talk about it...whatever it is, but now that you woke everyone up, I think it's time for me to simply ask you straight up...what the fuck is going on here?"

She crossed her arms on the table in front of her, nearly knocking over her drink, and then she rested her forehead on her arms and sobbed. I pulled up a chair next to hers and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Sweetie, what has made you this way? This is so unlike you. You're usually so happy-go-lucky! You're usually so care-free it actually bums me out that I can't be the same!"

She stopped crying and wiped her tears off onto her wrists. If she hadn't removed her makeup before bed, she would have looked like a character from a zombie movie. Instead, she just had pink and puffy eyes.

"His name was Franco..." she began, and of course I thought, "Oh, shit. Somebody dumped her and she's acting like the pathetic jilted schoolgirl."

I was wrong. So very wrong.

She continued. "I met him in Advanced Calculus. He was a graduate teaching assistant. Really smart guy. As smart as they come." She laughed, "And, he had the cutest Italian accent. He grew up in Como."

(Lake Como ...a sublimely beautiful Italian lake. A very expensive place to live, too, I'm sure.)

I found this whole thing fascinating, since I was just getting used to thinking of Belle as a math nerd myself. Not a very nerdy-looking nerd at all, but a nerd nonetheless, which explained her social clumsiness to a very great degree. Her mind was constantly in another dimension.

"The professor is brilliant, but a disaster as a teacher. Besides being busy, he's one of these people who makes you feel dumb for having a question. Franco was always available and always took time. Not just with me, but with anyone in the class who needed help.

"I found myself meeting with him almost daily with questions, and it soon dawned on me that I didn't really need his help, I just liked being with him."

"You had fallen in love," I said.

"Yeah. Majorly. When that class ended, we started seeing each other from time to time. Then, we started making love."

(I don't think I'd ever heard Belle use the "L-word" regarding someone she was dating or having sex with before, so that alone told me this was something special.)

"I went to Italy with Franco to meet his family. That's how serious it was becoming. I loved them. They were wonderful. His mom treated me like a daughter. His two sisters were fun and not resentful of the attention I was getting. Suddenly, it was as if I had two sisters. It was a loving family, a perfect family. And I was becoming part of it."

A twinge of sympathy ran through me, for I knew Belle's own family to be largely dysfunctional. This beautiful daughter of theirs that my own parents would have treasured was such an inconvenience that she got almost all of her love from a surrogate, a nanny. That nanny loved her as if she were her own daughter, but when Belle graduated from high school and was ready to go to college, her nanny was summarily dismissed with a niggardly severance package of several months' pay. For 18 years of loyal service.

So, here Belle had found herself, in effect, adopted by a good family.

"Then, my folks got wind of it and they didn't approve. I guess dad's company had had a run in with Franco's father's company and it had created some bad blood between them. Instead of viewing it as a way to get past all that, they refused to bless a union between Franco and me. They threatened to cut me off from my inheritance if I married him."

I was thinking, "What a bunch of shits!" Her family...the more I find out about them, the less I like them.

"It got worse when my dad put together a hostile takeover of Franco's dad's company and forced him out. I think it was all over me. It was just mean. They have a family fortune and so his father wasn't put out on the street or anything, but you can imagine how tense things became, but his wonderful family never blamed me.

"I finally told my parents that I didn't really care what they wanted. I wanted Franco, and if it meant losing all that money, so be it."

I'm thinking...Wow! She got some balls. I guess being in love can do that. Like Woody Allen said, "The heart wants what the heart wants."

"At last, he asked me to marry him. I accepted. It was no secret, but I wanted to tell you guys in person. In fact, I was planning on coming back largely for that purpose. But first, there was a big wedding of a cousin that he and I were going to attend. The wedding party was all family. (Italians have such large families, even some family members weren't included in the proceedings they had planned.) But most of my good clothes were evening clothes or casual clothes, not something you'd wear to a traditional wedding, so Franco's sisters gave me a list of their favorite stores in Milan. That's why I went off to Milan to do some shopping. This meant I would miss the rehearsal dinner which I would have wanted to attend with Franco, but there was no choice and I wasn't needed anyway."

"So, what happened?" I asked. Her story was obviously leading up to something.

"On the way to the rehearsal dinner, there was an accident. They were in two cars. As the first car rounded a blind turn, there was a truck that was out of control. No brakes. The first car with his mother and father and one of his sisters slammed into it head on. Franco was driving the second car with his other sister. They say he tried to avoid the accident, but his car went out of control and flew over the edge, falling several hundred feet onto a pile of boulders at a construction site and landing upside down on a pile of rubble."

With that, Belle broke into tears and sobs all over again.

A group gasp came from behind us at the same time. I turned to see Cliff, Kelsey, and Gina all in bathrobes. They all rushed in and surrounded us, wanting to touch Belle and show their sympathy.

"When did this happen?" I asked. "Two months ago!"

Kelsey's face went pale. "If you hadn't gone to Milan..."

"...I'd be dead," said Belle. After a brief silence she added, "...and sometimes I wish I'd died with him. When I screamed...I was dreaming of being in the crash."

We were all stunned. How could this have happened to our friend and she didn't even tell us until now, after two months had gone by?

"But surely your parents..." I thought out loud.

"I'm still disowned. They won't even talk to me."

Gina said, "I wouldn't worry about that." Gina could fix almost anything and, after all, her boyfriend is Belle's uncle. The love between Ray and Belle has always been palpable. No...Ray would take care of Belle if she needed it.

"It gets worse," said Belle.

The room grew silent. Worse? How?

"I've been hit with one thing after another since then. After being disowned and disinherited, I talked to my nanny and she let slip something I didn't know. That I was adopted."

I thought I heard a pin drop.

"And now..." she broke down completely. She tried to say something through her weeping and sobbing. I had to have her repeat it twice more before I finally understood it and explained it to those assembled.

"She's carrying Franco's baby." As I said it, she nodded.

Oh my God, I thought. This sweet, guileless girl has had so much shit heaped on her in such a short time, and after a very sheltered life, too.

Gina, who always looks for the proverbial silver lining said, "Well, actually, that's wonderful, isn't it? I mean, one good thing to come out of it."

"Not if I won't be around. I'm probably carrying an orphan." And with that she opened up her gown to display her breasts to all of us. Poor, innocent, Cliff was included. Pulling the skin taught over her left breast, a very definite lump appeared, defined very clearly by a shadow cast by the overhead light.

Strangely, it was Cliff who broke the seemingly interminable silence with, "Not all breast lumps are cancer." Belle, suddenly made more aware that there was a male present, quickly covered up.

Kelsey, ever the practical one, asked, "Have you had it checked? Biopsied?" Belle shook her head to say no. "Why not?" asked Gina.

"Because..." said Belle with a shrug. Gina finished the sentence for her: "Because you're afraid of what the answer might be. But, honey, the answer will be the same tests or not. If you find out it's cancer, there are treatments." We all nodded. Gina added, "And like Cliff said, it could be benign and you'd have one less thing to worry about."

There ensued a very long silence. Belle seemed relaxed, and was obviously relieved that we knew what was going on in her life.

I spoke up first, "So, that story about bumming around Europe with some guy you weren't very serious about..." Belle replied, "I just couldn't have talked about it. That wasn't true. I was with Franco and we were so in love. I had a family who wanted me. Everything was going to be perfect."

We all got misty because, I think at that moment we girls, who had grown to know Belle as a gorgeous airhead, and then as a math nerd (which went a long way to explaining the airhead part) were looking at her anew yet one more time. She was someone with a real interior life, with deep feelings. There was a very real person in there which she'd been hiding from view for the two or three years we'd known her.

We could never look at Belle the same again.

Talk about something coming out of left field, and yet so appropriate to the moment. Cliff, apparently feeling the need to change the subject (which was perhaps more than he at his age could handle) looked at Belle and said, "Your real name...it's Belinda, isn't it?"

She nooded a yes.

"Can I call you Belinda?" asked Kelsey? I don't think any of use really liked Belle. I'd never name a child Belle.

She smiled through her tears and said, "I wouldn't mind it at all. I mean, I'd like that." And so, Belle was reborn as Belinda, the name we all now use when referring to her.

We all stood up and encircled Belinda and gave her a huge group hug. Then we all went off to bed and tried to sleep.

I couldn't. I kept thinking about Belinda and how much had happened to her in such a short time. I thought about her amazing capacity to do what men do so easily: to compartmentalize her life. She'd joined with us in group sex. Shared our company. Driven the bus. Laughed from time to time, and she did this all the while hiding a soul-crushing tragedy. She was even facing the possibility that she was bearing her lover's child while with a possibly cancerous tumor in her breast. And if she lived, she would have to face the fact that she was adopted.

I had dismissed her as just a goofy but glamorous clothes horse. There was so much more to her than met the eye. As I have discovered so many times in my life, that's usually the case. But she made it so easy to underestimate her.

I was startled by the sound of my door opening, and a ghostly figure slowly drifting to my bedside. "Are you asleep" came the whisper. It was Belinda. "No. Do you want to sleep with me?" "Yes. May I?" "Of course."

I curled up into a very loose and long spoon position and she snuggled back into it, laying her head on my outstretched arm. She wept. I wept. I don't think I could have gotten to sleep without her in my arms that night. I had been reminded what a fragile and tenuous grip we all have on this life of ours.

(NOTE: Sorry for another sexless post, but once again real life intrudes and provides a drama into which sex escapades simply can't be fit. I've been very busy at my day job lately and haven't had a lot of time to write, what with putting in many overtime hours helping Kelsey make the new Portland office run smoothly. We'll be back on track in the next post, I assure you, though more revelations regarding Belinda are on their way.)




Here's Another Massive Flood Of Sapphic Chicks

Things have been so busy here in the Portland office. It's hard to find time to write, but the next installment is on the way and you'll find out what's been bugging Belle in that one. In the meantime, here are some new SapphicErotica galleries. Much as I like the classier stuff from MET-Art, Hegre, and JustTeenSite, when I wank to chicks, it's usually SapphicErotica girls. They are cute but in a very normal way, not like they're supermodels or something.

VIDEO

Stockinged vixens finger pussies
Hot teen trio fucks in strapon romp
Sultry ladies dildo on poker table
Horny teens fuck strapon in kitchen
Gorgeous lesbians have sex in bed
Angelic blondes make love on couch
Lusty teens eagerly toy to orgasms
Steamy trio licks and fingers holes
Sensual teens lap sweet buttholes
Beautiful honeys have sex in bed
Blazing teens in locker room oral
Naughty cuties in bathroom loving
Enticing hotties dildo in bathtub
Luscious ladies kiss and rub quims
Tempting trio rubs and toys outside
Sultry ladies in outdoor foursome
Curious teens lustily rub pussies
Sultry teens finger holes poolside
Hot honeys have sex on tennis court
Horny bathers finger dripping quims
Lusty teen trio laps pussies in bed
Hot vixen dildo and fist pussies
Busty honeys rub in poolside romp
Beautiful ladies make love on couch
Playful teens in bedroom threesome
Horny teens dildo in sofa threesome
Slender brunettes dildo furry muffs
Enticing teen trio dildos in bed
Angelic blondes trib and rub in bed
Ravishing brunettes finger pussies


Horny teen trio laps and fingers
Four sultry ladies dildo in garden
Sizzling hotties finger wet holes
Naughty teens deeply finger holes
Ravishing teens fuck with strapon
Enticing bathers make sweet love
Tempting teen trio laps and rubs
Dazzling vixens in poolside loving
Gorgeous teens have hot sex in park
Hot teens share double headed dildo
Hot teens kiss and have sex in barn
Three luscious lesbians eagerly toy
Lusty teens rub and trib on floor
Sublime brunettes dildo in garden
Brunette hotties finger and dildo
Horny golfers lick on putting green
Sunbathing honeys lap wet pussies
Stunning teen trio laps on green
Lustful teens deeply dildo twats
Sultry ladies dildo on park bench
Naughty teens finger tight holes
Beautiful teens finger hot twats
Dazzling teens lap pussies in park
Sweet teens in bedroom threesome
Tantalizing vixens make love in bed
Dazzling brunettes have sex outside
Luscious blondes lap in sixtyniner
Three beautiful honeys lick pussies
Tantalizing hotties dildo outside
Passionate teens tongue and finger

PHOTOS

Cute teens in bandannas lick twats
Stockinged vixens finger and trib
Dazzling ladies in strapon fucking
Sultry honeys dildo on poker table
Stunning lesbians in strapon romp
Sweet teen trio strips and licks
Tempting teens dildo wet pussies
Angelic blondes make tender love
Adorable teens get naked and dildo
Horny teens dildo twats in kitchen
Luscious honeys fist twats in bed
Heavenly blondes have sex on couch
Lusty teens dildo quims in armchair
Exquisite vixens tongue and finger
Sultry trio fists and toys outside
Dazzling honeys dildo in foursome
Tender teens kiss and rub pussies
Sizzling teens finger in the pool
Horny tennis players have hot sex
Naughty teen trio fingers in bed
Vixens in fishnet fist wet twats
Bikini hotties in poolside loving
Lithe ladies toy twats and butts
Adorable teens dildo dripping quims
Sublime lesbians make love in bed
Three blondes lap in bedroom romp
Lustful teens tongue and trib quims
Gorgeous honeys make love in bed
Ravishing brunettes dildo on couch
Delightful teen trio dildos pussies


Playful teen trio in bedroom romp
Stunning teens in outdoors foursome
Blazing teens finger quims poolside
Horny lesbians bang tight pussies
Sweet teens make love in kitchen
Naughty teens finger fuck assholes
Passionate bathers lap and dildo
Dazzling teens in bedroom threesome
Sultry honeys in poolside loving
Gorgeous teens have sex in the park
Brunette cuties have sex in the gym
Sultry vixens dildo twats in garden
Delightful teen trio dildos on sofa
Ravishing brunettes lick and dildo
Sublime beauties in bedroom orgy
Gorgeous golfers have sex on green
Dazzling sunbathers nude and finger
Teen trio nudes and rubs on green
Luscious teens lap and dildo twats
Beautiful brunettes dildo outdoors
Delightful teens tongue and finger
Slender teens strip and have sex
Ravishing ladies in strapon romp
Enticing teens have sex in garden
Captivating trio in bedroom oral
Sizzling vixens dildo twats in bed
Captivating honeys dildo on lawn
Enchanting teens dildo quims in bed
Blazing sirens bang glass dildos
Graceful ladies tongue and finger







Complete list of Stories
In The Order They Were Written
I have been realizing that the blog has developed, shall we say, a navigation issue as it has grown. In order to make it easier to get around, I've created a chart (below) listing the stories by name and in the order they were written. The day may come in the future when every story name here will directly link to that story, but for now, there are links which will take you to that page. When you go to each page, bear in mind that they are blog pages with the oldest story at the bottom and the newest one at the top. In other words, the reverse of the order they are listed here. For example, "The Story Of The Sad Girl" on Page 2 is the second story from the bottom of the page, not the second from the top.


PAGE 1
Blowjob On The Bus
How Sexy Can Beans Be?
I Like Being Fucked In The Ass!
I Molested A Girl On The Bus Today
Okay, So Erik Came Home And...
Oh, My Golly, Send Me Out More!
The Weekend Is Over, And Boy Is My Pussy Sore!
I Caught A Coworker Masturbating Today
I Took A Mental Health Day
Open Wide!
I Met A Berry Good Girl
A Lucky Substitution
One Of My Earliest Sexual Memories
My Finger In The Dyke
Going Out For A Spin
And To Think I Got Paid For Doing This!
Life Is A Carnival
A Fair Exchange
Three Pussies Are Better Than Two
I Can Dream, Can't I?
The Deflowering Of Wally
My European Holiday, Pt I
My European Holiday, Pt II
My European Holiday, Pt III


PAGE 2
My European Holiday, Pt IV
The Story Of The Sad Girl
Going Down For The Count
Motherfucker!
Erik's Mrs. Robinson Story
My European Holiday, Part V (The Finale)
The Taste Of A Martini
A Pervert Home Alone (Or How To Rack Up A Big Phone Bill!)
Kelsey And I Experience The Orgasmatron
The Gangbang At The Ski Lodge
The Redhead Helps Me Sleep
The Big Fuckup
Two Working Stiffs
In Which Promotion Leads To Adventure (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt I)
In Which We Haunt The Ghost Bar (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt II)
In Which We Meet A Famous Man (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt III)
PAGE 3
In Which We Gang Up On Hernando (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt IV)
In Which We Take A Road Trip (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt V)
In Which I Name A Constellation (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt VI)
In Which Kelsey Is Left Hanging (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt VII)
In Which I Blow It With NW (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt VIII)
Tall Girl, Shy Girl
In Which I Get The Blues, And That's Good (A Return To Portland, Pt. I)
In Which I Blame It On The Retsina (A Return To Portland, Pt. II)
In Which There's An Assfuck At Flatrock (A Return To Portland, Pt. III)
In Which My Trip Ends As It Began (A Return To Portland, Pt. IV)


PAGE 4
Am I A "Feminist"? That Depends (essay)
You Figure It Out
Moonlight And Elize
The Summer I Totally Lost My Virginity
The Summer I Mostly Grew Up
"Toys In Babeland" or "No Thanks To Jesus"
PAGE 5
Initiation Of The Novice
I Got The Greatest "Dear Jill" Letter
Sometimes Life Just Fucking Sucks
Living The Life Of The Rich, Pt I
Living The Life Of The Rich, Pt II
In Praise Of Older Men


PAGE 6
Distant Thunder (A Weekend In Guyana, Pt I)
Rough Jungle Sex (A Weekend In Guyana, Pt II)
Beach Bondage Bingo (A Weekend In Guyana, Pt III)
A Dream Comes True And We Do A Good Deed (The Trip West, Pt I)
PAGE 7
A Stunning Revelation (The Trip West, Pt II)
Tragedies Come In Threes (The Trip West, Pt III)
Sodom Comes To Panama City (The Trip West, Pt IV)
Self-Doubt And Vindication (The Trip West, Pt V)
Bruno Kilimanjaro And The Big Easy (The Trip West, Pt VI)
Guess Who Has Jizz On Her Cheek (The Trip West, Pt VII)


PAGE 8
A Quick Update And Some Ruminations On Porn (essay)
We Discover The World's Most Boring City (The Trip West, Pt VIII)
We Finally Catch Up With Danielle, But There Are Other Concerns (The Trip West, Pt IX)
Good and Expected News (The Trip West, Pt X)
In Which We Own The UT El Paso Fucking Team (The Trip West, Pt XI)
Shortcuts And Rainstorms (The Trip West, Pt XII)
My Short Story Challenge
Ray To The Rescue (The Trip West, Pt. XIII)
PAGE 9
Belle's Hell (The Trip West, Pt XIV)
Portland Update (report)
Hope And Faith (The Trip West, Pt XV)
Feminists Backing John McCain? WTF?!!! (my involuntary rant on misguided feminism)
The Snow Job (The Trip West, Pt XVI)
The Arrival (The Trip West, Pt XVII)
...
Jill Hill

JillHill@Nympho-Girl.com

I like sex. I like it in the pussy, in the mouth, and in the ass. If my ear canals were wide enough, I'd like it in the ear. Read here my adventures as a young woman of today with a sex drive of epic proportions and an exhibitionistic streak a mile wide.

I'm 22, about 5'5" and 120 lbs. I'm a natural redhead and a certified nymphomaniac. I'll do it with a man, a woman, or a group. As a teen I worked in a stable of horses two summers. You can imagine how much fun that was!

I grew up near Cleveland, Ohio, but I now live in Portland, Oregon, in a downtown apartment near the Willamette River (and as the locals insist, it's not given the French pronunciation, but rather is pronounced to rhyme with "cwazy wabbit").

I moved here with my friend and boss and frequent sex partner, Kelsey, to open up a branch office for the business services company we work for. I have a Bachelor in Business Administration, but I'm not all business: I love to read and write and this blog is one of my outlets.


You are on Page 9

To go to another page,
just click on the link:

Page 8
Page 7
Page 6
Page 5
Page 4
Page 3
Page 2
Page 1

For a complete
list of stories and
the pages where they
may be found, click here.







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