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.

When rescue finally came, it was spectacular to say the least.

I awoke to a sound like thunder, only constant. A low rumbling that got louder and louder. Gina ran from the bedroom at the back of the bus to the kitchen area, which has a large window. I slid out of my bunk and trotted up to be with her. She looked at me with a Cheshire cat grin, saying nothing.

Down in the flat area below us rested a helicopter so huge I couldn't even imagine such a thing might exist. And crossing the space between the helicopter and us were three men in boots, for much of the area was inches deep in mud and muck. The one in front was Gina's billionaire boyfriend, Ray.

"Get dressed. Help has arrived!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. I then ran to put on some basic clothes myself. While I dressed, Belle and Kelsey were rounding up some clothing and putting it on, too. I could see that Belle, who always likes to look perfect, was none too happy at having to get ready in a rush, and especially since rescue probably meant she'd be seen by men.

In a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. Gina answered it and in stepped Ray with two big friendly-looking guys who had a military look to them. Gina gave him a huge hug and when Belle came over to greet her uncle with a kiss, he held her as well.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked.

We indicated that basically we were well and were quite glad to see him.

Kelsey, who had been staring out the window at the giant helicopter, asked "What is that thing?"

Ray smiled and said, "It's a specialized VHLH for lifting heavy loads."

Kelsey asked, "And 'VHLH' means?"

"It means a 'very heavy lifting helicopter.' It's a prototype. At this point, there are only two of them. The other one is currently being tested in Montana logging operations. This one was the closest one and, luckily, was only 300 miles away. I know the owner of the company that built it. I'm also an investor. He thought it'd be a good test for it. It's designed to be a high-capacity crane in situations you can't easily get an earthbound crane to. Situations like this one, for example."

I think we all looked incredulous. Ray added, "Hey, it's designed to pick up trucks, railroad cars, large bundles of logs, even armored vehicles weighing half again as much as this bus weighs. There are other ways of extracting this bus, but they're all time consuming and at least as expensive. This is the way to do it."

Kelsey still looked dubious. Ray chuckled and said, "Don't worry: you won't be in the bus when we lift it. Or even in the helicopter, for that matter. There's a Hummer a few dozen yards behind the bus now. We'll all be traveling in that. Not even I am allowed to be in the helicopter while it's lifting. There's no way to make this a risk-free task. Even once those things go into production, their tasks will always involve risk."

I offered him and his helpers a bit of breakfast but of course they had already eaten. (It was a pro forma offer anyway, which I didn't really expect to be taken up on.)

To make a long story short, we all grabbed a few bags of essentials, in case the airlift turned into a debacle, and trundled back to the waiting Humvee. It crept backward until we were, I'd say, a good quarter mile away.

It took surprisingly little time for some straps to be put around the bus. No more than 15 minutes. Ray explained that the men he had brought with him were engineers who were there to decide how best to attach the strap to maximize balance while minimizing the chance of slippage.

The gigantic helicopter lifted itself off the ground surprisingly nimbly. It hovered over the bus and dropped down a pair of cables, which the men attached to the straps. I don't know what we expected, but the helicopter lifted the bus no more than two or three feet off the ground and set it back down on the other side of the washout. A total distance of perhaps 50 or 60 feet.

I said, "You mean...?" "Yep," said Ray, "we checked the road ahead. No more bad road." I was crestfallen. "You mean, if I had gone ahead and gotten us across that bad patch...?" He shrugged saying, "You had no way of knowing."

So, the helicopter gone, the Humvee took us across the washout to our waiting bus, which, other than being a bit muddy along the bottom where it had come in contact with the flood, and aside from some grime on the windows kicked up by the helicopter's rotor wash, was okay, though we needed to get some fuel pretty soon.

Clearly, Ray would be with us on the rest of this leg of the trip. He could hardly swing by to save his sweetie and just breeze on out of there. Besides, as you may know from a prior story, Ray's a pretty good fuck, and it's not every day you can orgy with a billionaire who's also a wonderful guy. Gina really lucked out when she won his heart.

Ray volunteered to drive for a while, and we were all glad to have him do so. Gina, of course, grabbed shotgun to be with her lover. But even while driving, we told him about the adventures we'd been having along the way. Of course, Gina filled him in briefly almost every day, but there were many things she hadn't had the time to tell him as well.

It was a jolly time for the next few hours. Everybody laughing and joining in to the conversation. All except Belle, though. And I was beginning to worry about her. You may think from how I've described the encounters I've had with her that she's a shallow airhead. She's not. She's a little immature, she's spoiled, but believe me, she's not lacking in psychological depth. I knew she wasn't worried about not getting the Gucci this or that she wanted. Something a lot more serious than that was on her mind as she stared out the dirty window.

I wondered what it might be. She wasn't ready to tell me, but when she was, I'd be there for her.

We made it to a truck stop in the middle of the afternoon, refueled, got more water, dumped the toilet waste, grabbed some lattes and magazines, and were soon on our way again, Ray still at the wheel. It was early evening when we pulled into Phoenix. Ray had arranged for us all to stay in a large suite together in one of the city's top hotels.

We all took what we needed from the bus and after Ray checked in, we went up the elevator to the top floor. The view was great, with streetlights on and cars using their headlamps. We all stood there marveling at the miracle of a sky that blended from yellow-orange at the horizon to indigo to black bespeckled with stars. I don't know what the others were thinking, but I was thinking what an odd thing it would be if there existed a universe that couldn't see itself.

Well, if the physicists' prevailing theory is right, that will indeed be the situation at some distant future time, for the universe is expanding at an increasing rate and, even with "dark matter," there doesn't seem to be enough stuff in the universe to cause The Big Crunch that once was thought to be the cosmic destiny. The universe will kind of evaporate and become devoid of all heat and light.

Strange.

This suite had four bedrooms. One for Ray and Gina, and one each for the rest of us. As enjoyable as the bus could be, it'd be nice to spend a night in a place where I could have a room all my own and sleep in a bed instead of a bunk.

We decided to crash for two hours and then go out for a mid-evening dinner.

It didn't take long before I heard clear evidence that Gina and Ray weren't using this time for taking a nap. I laughed to myself. Looking at my watch, I realized it was getting close to my brother's bedtime, so I called him up to see how he was doing. He didn't pick up. That worried me just a bit, mainly because I wanted to talk to him and hear his voice. I'd try again in the morning.

That done, I did snooze for maybe an hour and was puzzling over what to wear when Gina simplified things a bit by announcing that we'd be going dancing after dinner. So...something hot to trot. I found a plaid miniskirt with short just-above-the-knee black stockings. This plus a white shirt, red sweater, and black Mary Janes with a bit of platform, and I was ready!

The only surprise was that Belle, who is spectacularly gorgeous, was dressed in a rather dowdy manner...for her. A longer skirt than I'd ever seen her wear with a knit top, flesh-toned hose, and flats. Flats?!!! Those fantastic legs of hers are always shown off so well when she wears heels, but here she was wearing flats!

Both Gina and Kelsey were looking at her and then at me with that "WTF?" look on their faces. All I could do was shrug a "I dunno... You got me!"

Ray had gone ahead to arrange for a limo, according to Gina. And as we exited the elevator, sure enough, there he was by the front door. Outside was the longest limo I've ever seen. It had comfortable seats, a well-stocked bar, cable TV. What more could one ask for?

It turned out we were going to a restaurant called T. Cook's, which was very highly rated and is thought of as one of the top restaurants in the Phoenix/Scottsdale/Tempe area. It was located in a very impressive spa hotel setting. It looked expensive and it was. But Ray is rich and loves to spend (he once told Gina that he makes money faster than he can spend it), so I was secure in the knowledge not only that I wouldn't have to pay a penny, but that he'd be disappointed if we didn't help him accumulate a huge bill.

Belle, coming from a billionaire's family herself, knows how to spend money, and she tried, but clearly she had no appetite. Even Ray asked her if she felt okay, and she said she did, but I knew otherwise.

I won't go into a lot of detail, but between us we had tenderloins, lobster, crab, and lamb. The wine was exceptional. The service couldn't have been better. But we skipped dessert because we had a whole evening of dancing ahead of us.

Soon, we were on our way to Phoenix's Old Town area, where we did some club hopping. A billionaire with four cuties doesn't have to wait in line at almost any club in the world, and these clubs were no exception, with the owner or manager always coming down to welcome us and offer us a round of drinks. (Funny: the richer and more famous you are, or the sexier you are, the less you have to pay for.)

I have very wide-ranging taste in music. At home, I could just as easily be listening to Bach as Moby, to Coltrane as The Beatles. But for dancing, I'll take some uptempo electronica every time. E? Hell, no. For me, music is as exciting and intoxicating as any drug. After sex, it's the most fun you can have. Kelsey and I were getting a little out of control, making sure to show off our undies, and it was a tribute to the firmness of Kelsey's ample bazooms that they didn't pop out of her rather low-cut loose-fitting top.

Gina and Ray danced a little, but as it was a bit of a reunion after being apart for a couple weeks, so they spent a lot of time in each others arms getting all smoochy and huggy. While I love my independent life, there are moments when I wish I had a boyfriend.

Belle just watched. Now, we all knew that was absolutely unnatural. Belle was born to party. Whenever I hear Girls Just Want To Have Fun, I think of her. She even caught Ray's attention. Ray is her uncle and he cares a lot for her, so he left Gina momentarily and walked over to Belle, who stood up. They hugged, and I could almost read his lips saying, "What's wrong, sweetie?" Once again, she denied anything was wrong.

Like Hell! All the time she's been with us, she's been a little down. Even her beloved uncle Ray couldn't pry it out of her.

About 1:30 a.m., by mutual consent, we decided to return to the hotel. I really couldn't wait. I have done three-ways with Ray. In fact, if you read my story from August, 2005, "And To Think I Got Paid For Doing This!," you'll know that I met him when Gina was briefly an escort. Well, by then I guess you'd have to say she was more a "kept woman," but she arranged a three way for him. I'm the one female who can join them with no hint of jealousy. He likes us both and she knows I'd never betray her by trying to take him away. Besides, he is so in love with her and she with him, that'd never happen anyway. I like him, he's fun, but for me a three-way with them is just fun.

When we got back to the hotel suite, I was not so much expecting as hoping to have a good fuck, but instead of the invitation, Gina looked at me as if to say, "I know what you want, but not tonight." She even kind of shooed me toward my room with the strangest of smiles. Like she knew something I didn't.

"Strange," I thought. I'd get an explanation tomorrow, I thought. Until then, I'd just have to be puzzled.

The answer came sooner than I expected, for when I walked into my room and toward the walk-in closet, I heard a familiar voice say, "Jill." I turned, and there was my brother. Damn that Gina and her surprises! I'm sure that the night I was on the phone with my brother she got in touch with Ray and set this up.

As I've said many a time, Gina is virtually a sister. To her, Cliff (I believe this is the first time I've used his name in a story) was her brother in a way. The three of us have done things together. There is a bond between them similar to the one between Gina and me.

Anyway, when I turned and saw him, I think I burst into tears the way Halle Berry did when she won the Oscar. Did you see that? I think tears didn't just fill her eyes, they more or less squirted out of her head, flying through the air like juice from a squeezed orange. I think that's an experience we've all had. I was so happily surprised to see Cliff that I shrieked...loudly. This is when everyone else appeared at my door, smiling. Except for Belle, who was obviously depressed and, besides, had no idea who Cliff was, until Gina told her. Then she smiled just a little. Kelsey gave Cliff a little wave and a smile, and he waved back.

I gave my brother a huge hug and he lifted me off the floor in hugging me back. Gina dragged the others away, closing my bedroom door while sending the rest to their respective rooms, thus giving Cliff and me a little privacy.

Now, I have described my room as a bedroom, but each bedroom was a complete suite in itself, with an open floor plan and its own bathroom. One entire wall looked over the city. It included a corner that functioned as a little living room area with a TV on a rolling cart (the cart populated with recent popular DVD's and a DVD player to play them with...no calling down to the main desk to set up a rental!). There was also a couch and two chairs with a coffee table between them.

I got Cliff a beer from the well-stocked minibar and made myself a weak rum and coke and we sat down and got caught up in a way that's impossible or impractical using e-mail or even the brief phonecalls we'd had from time to time during the trip, not counting the long one the night Cliff called about his love life.

He was still bummed, I could tell, but I could see he would get over it and move on, as nature intended, and not do something foolish like a high school friend had done. She had hung herself when her first love dropped her. Cliff knew all about that, and knowing her parents as I did, and seeing the devastation she had left in the wake of her selfish solution to her depression, I think he is now proof against suicide. He loves mom and dad and me far too much to ruin our lives the way she had ruined her family's.

We talked for about an hour, but both of us were tired. Especially him, since back in Ohio it was dawn already and his body wash aching for rest. Having been partying fairly hard all evening and into the night, mine was craving sleep as well.

We continued to chatter, though, as we got ready for bed. We brushed our teeth and talked through the bathroom door as we did our last "business" of the day, and then climbed into bed with each other for the first time since our preteen years.

Now, don't go thinking anything kinky happened. We gave each other a dry kiss on the lips, hugged, and then I turned the light out. That was the last thing I remember. I can't even remember my head nestling into the pillow.

Gina knocked on the door at around 10 a.m. and said we should get ready, for Ray was taking us all down to the restaurant buffet at 10:30. So, Cliff and I got ready and were the last to reach the gathering at the elevator.

The breakfast was a typical breakfast buffet, only everything was top drawer. Pancakes, waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, several kinds of toast, bagels, cream cheese, about 10 kinds of jam and jelly. You get the idea, I'm sure.

Everyone was well-rested and eager to get on with the day, so we were a little boisterous. So much so that Ray indicated with his eyes and a nod of his head that people at other tables were looking at us with a mix of curiosity and mild disapprobation. Not everyone wants to listen to a bunch of giggling and yapping girls while having their breakfast, so we toned it down quite a bit.

Cliff sat between me and Gina, the two people he knew best. He knew Kelsey fairly well, but Ray and Belle not so much. Ray had been there with Gina when my folks renewed their vows, but he didn't know Belle at all. Even so, I caught Cliff staring at Belle from time to time. And why not? She's a goddess in human form. Yes, she's immature and acts childlike and self-centered, but isn't that how gods and goddesses have always been, even Yahweh the supposed God of Christianity?

The Greek gods were supposedly jealous backstabbers. Yahweh supposedly likes to send people to eternal damnation for what seem to be relatively petty offenses made due to the very frailty he built into them. And I remember something like "I am a jealous God and you shall place no other gods before me." In humans, jealousy isn't an admirable emotion.

And yet, a flash of jealousy was what I felt, for as much as I complain about Belle, on some level I'm absolutely and totally smitten by her as well. And now, it seems, my brother is, too. "Smitten," that wonderful word from our Germanic heritage (English was born out of German, after all). It obviously comes from the German verb "schmeissen," which literally means "to smash," or in older English "to smite." Yeah, whenever Belle is around, I'm absolutely and totally smitten.

Belle seemed to pick up on his attention after a while, but it didn't have much effect on her gloom. Eventually, I elbowed him and asked him if he might try to stare at her just a bit less, and he stated the obvious, "I'm sorry. She's simply the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!" "I agree," I thought. I said, "Yes, she's very beautiful. Just try and bear in mind that she's still a human being."

He got straight to the point after that: "But...she seems so sad. Why?"

"Hell if I know," was my earnest reply.

After that, he stared somewhat less.

As breakfast wound down, Gina announced that the bus was waiting out in the parking lot for us. Ray had had it cleaned up inside and out and checked over. Some adjustments had been made and it was running better than ever.

So, we went up to the suite, gathered our stuff together, and once we were all ready, we took the elevator down to the lobby, waited while Ray checked out, and he walked us to the bus, where he gathered Gina and his niece, Belle, in his arms, giving them both loving kisses and hugs.

And off he went to try to find newer and better ways to spend his billions. As for us, Vegas was were we'd decided to go next, for we had a friend who'd invited us to visit.

Gina, of course, felt that ineffable sadness one feels when one bits ones lover good-bye, even if it's only to be temporary, and in actuality, his visit was a treat, for he wasn't even supposed to visit us on our trip.

I think it's when I saw her momentary flash of sadness that it really hit me that once we arrived in Portland, Gina herself would be even more of a visitor than she was before. Her home base is Detroit, mine was Cleveland, and Portland is so far from either of those cities.

But...then I reminded myself that her man owns an airplane company, after all, and that she could fly to Australia on practically a moment's notice if she felt like it. Portland didn't seem so far away when I thought of it that way.

Gina volunteered to drive, but Kelsey said, "When is it going to be Belle's turn?" We looked at each other and then at Belle, who suddenly emerged from her doldrums to say, "Who, me?" Gina, Kelsey, and I said, "Why not?" in unison.

Cliff then said, "Well, I should learn to drive it, too, then." And so, after Gina drove around and found a space big enough to make mistakes in, Belle and Cliff both were taught the basics of driving the bus.

Belle had been first nominated, so she took to the wheel and surprised us all by driving virtually flawlessly. After about two hours on the road she complained of getting the drowsies. Gina said, "Cliff, go up and talk to her. Keep her awake by keeping her thinking."

Cliff looked at me as if to see if I objected. I shrugged and smiled, indicating "Why not?" I think it was his shyness.

And so he went up and obviously she at first thought he was coming up to take over the wheel, and I could see a little frown (for the same mirror that allows the driver to look back into the cabin also allows the cabin to look at the driver's face.

Kelsey got out the cards and we had played a few hands of poker when we heard something we hadn't heard in quite a while...Belle laughed! She laughed a few more times while we played, and each time the three of us just smiled to ourselves.

After a while, it was obvious Belle was past fighting off sleep, and so I yelled, "Come on back, Cliff. Play some poker with the girls." And so, he tore himself away from her and came back.

We tried not to make it too obvious, but we all wanted some idea what had happened up in the front. We would never have asked directly, but we were hoping for some insight.

He sat down and, bless him, all he said about her were two things we didn't expect to hear: "She's really smart." When we all stared at him blankly, for we were trying to wrap our minds around the thought that Belle=smart when he stunned us further by asking, "Why? Don't you know that she's a math major? We talked about Ramanujan and joked a bit."

"Of course we knew," said Kelsey. But, of course, truthfully, we didn't. Gina had been about to take a sip of coffee when he dropped that bomb, and he's lucky he didn't say it about three seconds later or I'm afraid we'd all have been drenched with java!

So we played poker a little while, when Gina finally laid down her cards and asked, "Who the fuck is Ramawhatsis?" Cliff looked at her in nerdy astonishment, like a Star Wars nut who's been asked "Who is Luke Skywalker?" "Ramanujan. He's just simply the most fantastic mathematical genius of the last century."

Well, actually, to my credit, I did know that Ramanujan was a great mathematician. You learn things if you watch Nova or The Discovery Channel instead of The Bachelor or America's Next Top Model. But I couldn't have told you much about him beyond his fame and the fact that he led a sad life.

Belle? The clothes horse? The girl who I'd personally seen fuck at least a half dozen guys? That Belle? I entertained the idea that maybe she knew just enough to put him on. However, when I took a quick potty break, I walked past the bunk that had her gear on it. Using my body to hide what I was doing, in case Belle was looking back into the cabin, I picked up a notebook on her bunk. The notebook she sometimes could be seen scribbling into, and which we all thought was just a diary.

It was like looking at fucking Einstein's blackboard. My jaw dropped, and I felt just like I did when I was 13 and had found out that Mike had kissed Sally. I couldn't wait to gossip!

If you've read the series of stories entitled "It Didn't Stay In Vegas," you'll remember that while in Vegas the last time, Kelsey, Gina, Belle and I had met a well-known entertainer who, to protect his identity and privacy, I refer to simply as "NW" (name withheld). I never divulge whether he's a singer, magician, mentalist, or comedian. But I'll tell you, he makes money by the truckload.

You hear the word "compound" thrown around. The President has one at Camp David. Michael Jackson has one. The Kennedys apparently have one. Well, NW has an estate on the outskirts of Vegas that is surrounded by a 15 foot high brick wall, and where dobermans run around rather freely.

We pulled up to the compound gate in the early evening and were met by an armed guard who obviously had been expecting us. We were let in and NW was standing out front of his home, dobermans on either side of him. Like any well-trained guard dog, they took their cues from him. He was welcoming us, so they waited until we were close and as he embraced us, they took a sniff, probably remembering us from our last visit. I say that because they seemed much more attentive to Cliff, the one they'd never met. With his scent filed away in their canine memories, they soon paid no additional attention to him.

Cliff had met NW at mom and dad's renewal of vows, but had never seen how someone as rich as NW lived. My parent's house is a comfy three-bedroom bungalow. NW's place had probably somewhere between 15 and 20 rooms. It was set in several acres of land, most of it covered with green grass, which in itself is a miracle under Vegas's sweltering sun. To Cliff, it was all like a dream. To Belle and Gina, it was just another very nice home. Belle had been born to wealth and Gina has been living in wealthy circumstances for several years. To her credit, she remains a real mensch and it hasn't spoiled her or gone to her head one bit.

Belle was acting almost normal. She remained a little sad, but much more able to interact than before. I still couldn't get over the fact that my brother's nerdspeak had got her to open up, for he was much more used to talking with other guys about video games, sci-fi flicks, and other bright boy stuff than stuff most girls like talking about. But then who knew she was a mathematician. For some reason, it never occurred to us she was even a student! Come to think of it, being a knockout might even put a girl math wizard at some sort of disadvantage.

We all walked inside. NW's arm was around Belle in an almost fatherly fashion. She rested her head on his shoulder from time to time and they whispered in each other's ears. When we go to the dining room, where a buffet had been laid out for us, NW gave Belle an extra squeeze and said that he'd have to leave soon to go to the casino and prepare for his evening show. He waved and was off.

Hilda, the cook, hovered over the buffet, helping to serve, explaining what things were, answering questions. As the first time we were here, Belle was the first in line, and the way Hilda talked to her indicated that she was not just a welcome guest, but a very familiar one, too.

As we ate, Kelsey and I filled Cliff in on the wonders of this place. The huge grounds, Olympic-size swimming pool, shady bowers where one could get some relief from the sun (not such a problem this time of year, but welcome in mid-summer, for sure). We even mentioned that "NW" had a pet elephant, but then Hilda, who had overheard us interrupted to report that, sadly, the elderly elephant that Belle had lovingly dubbed "Little Nell" had passed on. I didn't want to think about what one does with a dead elephant, so I changed the subject to more frivolous things.

After dinner, Hilda guided us to our rooms. The last time, we had been put in what was essentially a dormitory room with several beds, obviously originally intended for an entire family, so that they could all be together.

This time, probably due to the fact that we were now a mixed sex group, we all got separate rooms. They were arranged consecutively all in one hall, but each of us now had complete privacy, and each room had its own bathroom. It was much like a hotel room in that regard. Hilda instructed us to put our things in our rooms and meet her back by the front door. Once we got there, we got a surprise. Hilda announced that NW had invited us to see his show. So, we piled into a limo and were driven to the casino hotel where he performs. We didn't even have to go in the front door. We went through the stage door and were ushered through a door beside the stage to a front table, center stage.

The show was incredible, as so many Vegas shows are, and after the show we were led backstage to NW's little backstage apartment (because it's so much more than merely a dressing room, and was obviously designed for NW to entertain guests before and after shows). When we got there, there were two pop stars, a sports celebrity, and a well known politician. We were introduced as "friends" and I shook more famous person's hands in one minute than I have in any other minute of my life. (Remember: well-known musicians were frequent guests in our house when I was a kid, so it's not like I've never met a famous person in my life...just not so much lately.)

We had some wine and hobnobbed with the celebs, except for Cliff, who hobnobbed but is too young to drink alcohol legally, even if provided by a famous person. I promised him some once we got back to NW's place, but I could see that he was feeling a little "odd man out." And then, you know what happened? Belle dragged him off to a corner where they talked some more. She was smiling! It was just like back when she was driving the bus.

And so it was for a half hour or 45 minutes until NW announced that he would have to be moving along to another obligation. A subtle wink our way indicated that that obligation was us. And so he shook hands, patted celebs on the back, and one by one they filed out, leaving just us.

Grabbing a small duffel bag, he said, "Let's get outta here!"

I noticed that he looked frequently at Kelsey with a smile, which she returned in kind. And why not? Apparently, when we were at his beach hacienda in Yucatàn, he and Kelsey had got it on out on the beach in rather spectacular fashion. Of course, he and I had had a very nice discussion just prior, and I certainly hoped for more of that, because he's smart and interesting, but I can certainly understand matters of the hard-on coming first.

I looked around the room and noticed that Cliff and Belle were together. They were quickly becoming a pair, and it seemed to be benefiting them both very nicely. Of course, Cliff didn't know that I have a "thing" for Belle, and since I don't really like having that crush, handing her off to someone else I truly loved, my brother, seemed to be a rather handy solution, although any solution would hurt somewhat.

In a way, even though it seemed Belle and Cliff were benefiting each other at the moment by taking their minds off what had been bothering them, I really didn't want Cliff hooking up with Belle long term, because her family sucked. They were rich, but they had no idea what it is to be a family, and Belle had obviously been an interruption and inconvenience in her parents' career.

I suppose if one wondered about Belle's gloom, one could guess it might have something to do with her family. It might be pregnancy. It might be a diagnosis of cancer. It could be any of a dozen things. Oh, well. It would come out when it came out.

After clambering into NW's limo, we drove around town with NW pointing out the various casino hotels, with interesting stories about each. He pointed out some of the unique shops located in Vegas, many of them existing only in Vegas and New York, Vegas and Paris, Vegas and London, Vegas and Milan. Vegas is a very special place.

Even so, Vegas isn't a place to live as far as I'm concerned. It's either the strip or the suburbs with their cookie cutter housing projects and strip malls though, actually, some of the better casinos are now out in the 'burbs. I'd compare the best buffets in the suburban casinos favorably with the best on the strip.

It had to happen. NW and Kelsey were cuddling, Belle snuggled up against Cliff, and so I looked at my little friend Gina and put my arm around her and we started kissing. Cliff knows that Gina and I have a "special relationship," but this was the first time he'd ever seen us making out.

Things got hotter and heavier with time. Kelsey and NW were necking fiercely, Gina and I were all over each other (though I was conscious to try to position myself so as to preserve a modicum of modesty, given the presence of my younger brother, and Gina realized my concern, for it was hers as well.

Belle was clinging to Cliff like he was a big teddy bear, just soaking up his warmth and goodness, for Cliff is going to be a carbon copy of our lovely and loving father, someone totally good and totally lacking in guile.

I wanted to give it good to Gina, but maybe she was having pity on me since she, at least, had had a night of passion with Ray, her #1 lover, and she knew that Cliff and Belle had claimed each other, at least for the time being. She insisted on being the giver, not the taker.

And so, soon Gina was on her knees between my legs, having pulled my skirt over her head for modesty's sake, for she herself was aware of my brother's presence.

Soon, NW and I were getting fairly discreet head. (In his case, both his and Kelsey's body position and his overcoat kept the cocksucking out of general view.)

My brother's eyes were closed and Belle was cuddling up to him. He stroked her hair. They looked so contented, and that actually made me glad for both of them.

They actually fell asleep in each other's arms, and so Kelsey and NW and Gina and I started going at it in a more public way. Watching someone else have sex can make your own sex so much more exciting, though the intimate, private sex is more meaningful in many ways.

By now, Kelsey had NW's pants and boxer shorts down at his ankles, and she was sucking on his cock vigorously, as though her life depended on it. Seeing NW's big cock in Kelsey's mouth was making me extra hot. She was no longer even trying to be subtle. Not that she was trying to put on a show, but she was just sucking dick like crazy and didn't care who saw.

Gina is a superior cunnilinguist with any girl, but with me, she's an artist, and it's because she knows the things I like and don't like, plus after years of experience with me, she can read all the signals so that her pacing and timing are almost always perfect.

And thus it was that she knew when to wet her thumb in her mouth and let it slide slowly up my asshole, while continuing to lick away on my twat. This gave me a bad case of pleasure chills and goosebumps. I shrugged my shoulders up to my ears and kind of twisted, which she of course knew to be a sign that I was entering a state of ecstasy.

I saw NW ejaculate into Kelsey's mouth, because she reacted to it by opening her mouth enough to let the jizz run down his the shaft and over her fist, which was firmly clenching his cock at its base.

I could see that while Cliff was fast asleep, Belle was half awake momentarily. Just long enough to gently take his hand and put it under her top and right on top of a breast. She clenched it there and her eyes filled with tears.

What the fuck is going on in that head of hers? I suddenly felt like I wanted to distance Cliff from her. He was hurting, too. Perhaps them pairing off wasn't such a great idea after all.

When we got back to NW's place, everyone was rather tired and wasted from the prior day's events...and from having sex. Waking up to find his hand under Belle's top, he quickly pulled it out and blushed when he saw that everyone but Belle was stifling a giggle.

I put my arm around my little brother as we walked into NW's mansion. He started to say "I don't know that I..." but I stopped him with, "You didn't do it. She did." "She did?" I shrugged the shrug that means "Don't ask me! I don't know any more than you do."

I was so tired. I gave Cliff a big familial hug and pecked his cheek. Then, I sent him off to bed.

I got ready for bed, pulled up the covers and drifted off to sleep.

Jill Hill awoke after a night of disturbing dreams to discover that she had been transformed into a hideous vermin.

I awoke from that dream with a violent twitch and a heart pounding like a hammer. Fuck! So, now I'm dreaming Kafka. I wish I'd never read Metamorphosis. I calmed myself and was soon sleeping again.

Until sometime around 4:30 a.m., that is, which is when Belle let out a scream that woke me up with such a start that my heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

I covered up with a robe and, with Kelsey, Gina, and Cliff's heads poking out of their respective doors, knocked on Belle's.

"Enough is enough," I announced loudly. "Let me in."

Of course, Gina, Kelsey, and Belle all know I write for Nympho-Girl, and they don't mind as long as I don't use their real names (and, of course, Jill Hill isn't really mine, either!). While passing the time somewhere on the trip (in Florida, I think), Kelsey proposed that they give me an idea just to see if I could write a story about it. She and Gina bounced a couple ideas back and forth, finally settling on this one: "Someone wakes up to find herself floating."

I wrote the following in about an hour on my laptop computer:

"I hate you!"

Jan hung up the telephone.

As soon as she hung up she felt remorse. Bill had a point. He was right. That is exactly what irritated her. He was always right.

"Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it," she thought. "Why can't I control my temper when I talk to him?"

"Hey, you guys!" She called. Timmy and Barb had a tendency to wander, and if that was bad in Lawrence, Kansas, here in Austria it was terrifying. Thankfully, they had stayed nearby as she'd told them to.

When she accepted her Czech relatives' invitation to visit, Bill had objected. Partly for practical reasons, partly for financial reasons, and partly just to be difficult, she thought. But mostly for financial reasons. They were, as he frequently pointed out, not made of money. They had lots of debt. Tons of debt. But...they were slowly working their way out of it.

He pissed her off, though she knew that really wasn't his intent. She knew she had issues that had to be addressed. She was not the most responsible of people, and Bill, really, was more tolerant than she had a right to expect. He loved her, she knew.

Oh, well...

She would get down to fixing things when she got back. Her brother had given her the card of a good therapist. One who had helped him get a grip on life and had probably prevented his suicide.

"I'll call Bill when I get to Prague," she thought. "I'll patch things up for now. I'm such a fuck-up. I wish I hadn't yelled at him."

Grabbing the kids, Jan walked to the station, picked up her tickets, and walked to the train. Within 30 minutes, it was pulling out of the station. Within an hour it was out in what passed for boonies in this part of the world.

She was planning it all out, that first night back. She'd bought a very sexy teddy in a nice shop in Paris. More than she'd ever spent on lingerie in her life. Not back-breakingly expensive, but enough to make it very special. She knew she looked absolutely spectacular in it. Bill would be unable to resist.

She would make that Beef Wellington recipe her cousin had given her last year. She was trying to cut back on meat, especially red meat, and thus there had been more chicken, fish, veggies, and salads on the table lately, which Bill, as a beef lover, didn't appreciate. She'd have to give a bit there.

She only hoped he'd never find out about that five month fling she'd had with her trainer at the gym. She'd cut it off, but she'd been spotted with him at least once that she knew of. And that by someone she felt would be ready to move in on Bill if she and he ever broke up.

She and the kids played in their compartment. Of course, there was little need to entertain them because riding in a train was so novel in itself. Mostly, they looked out of the window while she perused a French language edition of Vogue. Now and then one or the other would say, "Look, moo cows!" or "Look at the big mountain, Mommy!" She would smile in loving acknowledgement.

It was so important to preserve the marriage. For the kids. She would do whatever it took.

Eventually, they went to the dining car, where the kids didn't seem to like anything other than the dessert, but they were quiet enough for her to enjoy her dinner own of chicken schnitzel, späzle, and white asparagus, all washed down with an outstanding German Gewürztraminer.

The train ride would arrive in Prague fairly early in the morning, so she felt it best to get to bed early, right along with the kids.

That night, Jan woke up. Or...it felt like she was awake. What made her doubt her senses was that she was floating above her bed. She looked, and little Timmy and Barbara were floating in the air as well. Kids don't wake for anything!

Not only that, a lot of their stuff was floating. It was as if gravity had momentarily been suspended.

Strangest of all was that the Moon, which should have been directly above the car and out of view, was shining right through the train window. Which led her to believe this was all a dream.

(The following is excerpted from an Austrian TV report the next morning)

"Well, when the train left the tracks, it did so over one of the deepest gorges in Europe. The entire train was in free fall for at least 15 seconds."

* * * * *

Well, how did I do?

|

Saturday, February 9, 2008
Shortcuts And Rainstorms
The Trip West, Pt. XII

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 was the driver the next day. We decided to make Phoenix our next stop. That's about 300 miles from El Paso and would be one of the easier driving days.

Or so we thought.

It was a cloudy and gloomy day. Not at all what one imagines when one thinks about this part of the country. There was an accident on the highway far ahead and traffic was backed up a great distance, just creeping along, so Kelsey, always one to take charge, started poring over the maps and found a detour. It would involve getting off at the next exit and taking some smaller roads.

It took a good 45 minutes at least to reach that exit, and by the time we got off, we were obviously not the only people who wanted to give up on the freeway. The ramp itself took another 20 minutes or so before we were able to make the turn.

The roads were one lane each way, and although they had generous speed limits, we found ourselves behind a caravan of underpowered recreational vehicles. The roads were hilly and twisty and opportunities to pass were rare, and when you're driving a huge bus, you can't think about passing as you would if you had a well-powered passenger car. As a result, we resigned ourselves to chugging along behind a bunch of Winnebago wannabes.

The frustration resulted in some teasing and squabbling behind me. Belle, in particular, who is always used to everything being easy, or made easy, for her, was distraught. I don't know what her problem was: she didn't have to be anywhere at a particular time, and we're driving a vehicle we can live in. Kelsey is almost always calm and Gina is very mature, even if she does look like she's 16 years old.

Kelsey and Gina pored over the maps and asked me to pull over when I got a chance. I found a turnout and parked the bus. The three others were huddled over a couple maps. Kelsey explained that leaving the freeway appeared to have been a mistake. We needed to decide whether to proceed with the plan hoping things would get better or just or turn back and take our chances on the freeway again.

Belle whined impatiently, "God...we're an hour away from the freeway by now." "Not really," said Gina. "Actually, it's taken us an hour to get here, but averaging about 10 or 15 miles per hour. I'd say we could be back at the freeway in 20 minutes, maybe less."

All of a sudden, Belle looked seriously at the map and pointed out something. "What about this road?" We all looked and indeed there was a small road that appeared to be something of a shortcut. Kelsey said, "You do realize that how major a road is is signified by how thick the line is on the map? That line is..." "About as thin as a hair," I finished. The rest of us looked at each other and Gina said, "Well, it's just a short ways up. We could take a look. Jill, if it's a paved road with no traffic, you could take it. What do you guys think?" Kelsey shrugged and agreed and naturally Belle, whose idea it was, agreed.

After about 2 miles of slow going, the road appeared on the left. It looked just fine. It was rather narrow and would require some care when oncoming traffic approached, but otherwise quite good, so I made the turn and off we went.

There never was any oncoming traffic, which was spooky, but I kept driving. After maybe a half hour I came upon a sign saying, "Bad Road Next 3 Miles," and looking ahead, I saw that the asphalt had dried and crumbled and the road would be a bit uneven. Nothing the bus couldn't handle, though I consulted with the girls and the consensus was to keep going. So, we moved along at maybe 5 mph. About 2 miles in the road got even worse. A flash flood had completely washed the asphalt away and I would have to really tippy-toe through that section. Luckily, it was dry so there was no danger of skidding down into the gully below and possibly overturning the bus.

I asked what I should do and Kelsey asked me how I felt about backing up two miles and then turning around. "In no way am I backing this bus up for two miles," I replied. If one of you wants to try that, be my guest." No volunteers came forth.

So, given that forward and backward were the only two options, I crept through that area and was soon back on good road. About five miles down the road was another sign, "Bad Road Next 13 Miles." I stopped the bus and the girls ran up front to see what the problem was. "Oh my God," said Gina, laughing. Kelsey laughed, too. Belle looked sheepish, for she had suggested the route in the first place.

"This shortcut is going to lose us more time than our original detour or if we'd simply waited on the freeway." Nobody said anything, for it was so obviously true and was what everyone was thinking, I'm sure.

I didn't even have to put it up for a vote, there was not much to vote about. No place to turn around and backing up was out of the question, so no one objected when I put the bus into gear and tiptoed along at probably 3 miles per hour. That's roughly correct, because it took about four hours to negotiate those 13 miles, and several times along the way I actually had to stop and the four of us got out and decided which way to take what was left of the road. This meant that sometimes the bus (a very tall bus) negotiated the road at a perilous angle that had me holding my breath and the other girls hiding out (and perhaps praying) in the windowless bunk area where at least no one would be in danger from window glass or of being thrown through a window if the bus did roll.

It was probably an illusion based on my fear, but I could have sworn on several occasions that the left side wheels left the ground and that the bus was balanced on the right side's wheels. Clearly, in the rear view mirror, I didn't see either of the two sets of tires clearly touching the road. I had to remind myself that they were mounted in pairs and that the inner tire was probably making contact.

I got past that patch of bad road, drove a quarter mile or so, and was confronted by an equally bad one. I stopped the bus and sighed a very exasperated sigh. Would there exit from this room in Hell?

Somewhere in there, Belle started apologizing profusely and nonstop. Finally, Kelsey, who had had enough, said to Belle, "Shut the fuck up or I'll rip off your head and shit down your neck!" There was a silence and then we all laughed, even Belle, because it was a reference to a movie we had all seen at one time on one of Ray's private jets: Doctor Detroit, certainly one of the most underrated comedies of recent decades.

"Well," Gina said, breaking the silence, "I guess we now know why there was no oncoming traffic." This was met with a long and uncomfortable silence.

I could see Belle was moping. I had expected Gina to say something to make Belle feel better, and maybe it was because of the shitting down her neck comment, but it was Kelsey who said to Belle, "Come on, cheer up. It was a group decision to go this way. I didn't hear anyone object, and I voted for it myself."

Belle smiled a meager little smile: all was forgiven.

Now...I did mention that it was cloudy and gloomy that day. Here's where we bring that thought back in, because it was at this time that the van shook from a gust of wind. Gina was sitting near a window and looked out. "As though things couldn't get worse" was all she said gloomily. The rest of us went to look over her shoulder, and as we did so, a second big gust plastered so much water on the window that we literally couldn't see out. This was followed by a bright flash and an earsplittingly loud thunderclap.

"Oh, fuck!" I said. "We're going to be here for a while." "Maybe we should make a run for it," said Gina. "Nope," I replied, adding "did you see that washout in front of us? It's at least as bad as the one we just crept through. And now...it's probably at flood stage." I went up and turned on the wipers and we could just barely make out that, indeed, a small creek had formed where the bad road had been. And naturally, what had once been dirt and rocks was now mud, rocks, and flowing water.

"It can't get worse," lamented Kelsey, who added after a slight pause, "can it?" "Well," said Gina, "the water could scour the washout deep enough that we won't be able to get past it." "And," Belle added, "that stream could change course and come our way. We could be in the middle of it." That was a cold, stark possibility that no one could deny.

I then added "We're not going anywhere soon. And with only a third of a tank of gas left, we can't just sit here with the motor running." There was a short silence while Gina said, "We're going dark. Let's shut all the systems down and wait it out."

So, we were in "silent running mode" as Kelsey called it. With what little light came through the window, we played poker for a while and then my cell phone rang. It was my little brother. I call him little. He's not that little. Nor is he slight. He's average height for a guy, about 5'10 or 5'11" I'd guess, with an average build. A pretty face for a guy, but he isn't a sissy boy. He's your Matt Damon type, only a real nerd.

He wanted to talk to his big sister about something, so I excused myself and wandered back to the bedroom at the back of the bus. Laying on my back I heard his laments about his first big love. A freshman enrolled in Cleveland State University, he met her in Philo 101 or something, and they really seemed to connect. They met for coffee several times and even went out on a date, and now, he tells me, she has no time for him, which clearly is causing him so much angst that he had to call his big sister just to talk about it.

Now, this brought back so many memories. Memories almost every one of us has of those first few painful love relationships. He never even mentioned the word "love," and yet clearly his heart was breaking.

I had tell him that I couldn't offer him much hope. I told him that this would likely happen time and time again, this liking of someone who turns out not to be into you...or not into you to the same degree you are into them.

I softened this blow with the assurance we all hear when someone older and wiser wants to console the inexperienced: "There are lots of fish in the sea. You need to spend some time getting some experience." He wanted advice about this particular girl, and I told him that I couldn't tell him anything that would help. That when the time is right and the person is right, both people know it. (Is that true? I thought. I hope so.)

My brother and I are so close. I don't talk about him much here mostly for that reason. I remember when I was maybe 9 or 10 and he was 5 or 6. He would cuddle with me while we watched some kids show. We had to share a room for a few years, and sometimes he'd crawl into bed with me. I always liked it when that happened. He was so much warmer than a teddy bear or doll.

Actually, it was probably my arrival at puberty that forced my parents to look for a home with more than 2 bedrooms. Luckily, my dad's session career was blooming, and he and some musician friends had some fairly regular gigs. My mother was making fairly good money (for a teacher and librarian) and so it was time to move anyway. But when that happened, so did the sleeping in the same bed. And...like I said, I was in puberty and it was no longer really appropriate for that sort of physical intimacy.

But we've never lost the psychological connection.

He began sobbing, and my heart started breaking for him. I got misty sympathetically, and he could hear me sniffle a bit. Like most guys, he wouldn't want to cry in front of his friends, or even mom and dad, but he and I are open books to each other emotionally.

"You'll get past this," I assured him. "If this is the end of the world, you'll experience the end of the world more than once." "I know," he said. "You know, losing a love is a little death. You have to grieve for a while. It's life."

Gina, my closest friend, arrived at the door and tipped her head in the manner that silently asks, "What's up?" I put up a finger in the international "Give me a minute" signal, as I told my brother to hang in there and call me anytime he wanted to. That I could always make time for him. And we said good-bye.

Gina sat down on the bed and I explained the situation to her. We reminisced about some of our own painful experiences when we first started getting involved with boys.

At last, Kelsey yelled, "Hey, you guys, it's getting kind of dark. Got any flashlights or candles?"

Gina replied: "Flashlights won't last long. We do have some candle lamps, though." Actually, there turned out to be quite a few, and soon about five or six such lamps were putting out a pleasant yellow-orange glow."

"Anybody for dinner?" asked Gina. We all agreed we were hungry. Not wanting to open the fridge, because the power was still off and there was no sense in helping its contents to spoil, we heated up some tomato soup and had that with peanut butter and honey sandwiches. One of the most delicious meals I've ever had, probably due to the company I was keeping.

The topic turned to Portland, our ultimate destination, and something was said about that photographer who told Kelsey and me the story about his strange love affair with identical twins. You'll find this story under the title Moonlight and Elise. Belle had never heard the story and so nearly an hour was spent retelling it and discussing it.

Belle, who is easily the most fashion conscious of the group, wanted to know more about Kelsey's career as a model. And so Kelsey told her story, if not from the very beginning, from before her few years as a high fashion model. Kelsey, like Gina and me, came out of the middle class, but the upper middle class. In this country of ours with more than 2 million millionaires, a family well into the six figure is still in the middle class.

I'm sure that my family rarely topped $50,000 then and in a very good year might have approached $60,000. Certainly, $400,000 or $500,000 would have resulted in a very different life for me, but one in which it was unlikely that Gina and I would have grown up together, so I have no regrets.

Here is the story Kelsey told us:

"I grew up in a nice home with busy parents, both of whom were in real estate. They worked in friendly competition with each other for different agencies. Busy as they were, I was not a neglected child. After school, I'd go to one agency or the other, doing homework in their little lunchrooms. I met a number of wonderful people by doing this.

"I've always been tall for my age, and like all tall girls in their teens, I felt lanky and out of place. I felt I stuck out like a sore thumb everywhere I went. There was another agent in my mother's agency. She was herself tall and beautiful, as successful women in real estate often are. A lot of girls, when they become too old to compete in the world of pro modeling, where most of the work goes to gals in the 16 to 25 age range, turn to real estate, because they are still beautiful and, in real estate sales, image is important.

"Her name was Dollie, with an 'ie' at the end. Her real name was Dolores, but she shortened it to Dollie, taking the odd spelling to make it more memorable. She came into the lunchroom one day while I was standing in front of a snack machine. She excused herself, because she knew exactly what she wanted, and was in a bit of a rush.

"She said what, at the time, was the about the worst possible thing for me to hear: 'My, you're tall!' Yeah, I was 16 and about 5'10'. She grabbed a candy bar, tucked it into a pocket in suit jacket, and looked me over again. It was excruciating for me to be looked at all, much less to have my height noticed.

"Then she asked, 'Do have any boobs?' She grabbed me by the hand and took me across the room to a counter with a sink and a mirror. She turned me sideways to the mirror and told me to pull my shoulders back. Suddenly, I had breasts. Another bodily feature I didn't want people looking at.

"'Look at yourself,' she said. I was looking, ashamed. Her next words changed my life: 'You're a very beautiful girl. Don't be ashamed of your body. You're very easy on the eyes. When I was your age, I was a model and I had a lot of fun. You obviously aren't modeling because you don't appreciate your beauty, but, sweetie, you could be making a mint as a model.'

"With that, she left the lunchroom. My shoulders have been back ever since.

"Apparently, Dollie had a chat with my mother, for on the drive home that day, she mentioned that Dollie thought I could be a model. Mom asked me if I wanted to explore that possibility. I was excited by the prospect and said that I very much wanted to explore it.

"Mom had Dollie come by one day. Dad was banished to the den to watch sports (something he normally would be doing anyway), and so the three of us sat down, me feeling like something of an adult for the first time in my life, and over coffee and cookies Dollie told us about her career in New York City as a model for clothing designers, fashion photographers, and occasionally, fashion or lifestyle magazines.

"My mother asked if I should maybe go to a modeling school, like the one Barbizon offers, and Dollie's advice was not to spend a penny on any kind of modeling course because, 'If an agency feels you can make money for them, they will invest in you. Modeling schools are a rip-off.

"'Realistically, what kind of opportunities can Kelsey have as a model? How much money can she make?' Her reply stunned us both. 'In Kelsey,' she said, 'I see the possibility of a career well beyond the one I had. I modeled for designer catalogs, mostly. Kelsey can be a runway model, I believe. She could be making more money than you and your husband combined.'

"My mom was, to say the least, dumbfounded.

"But then Dollie added, 'Remember, though, that she can do that only until her mid-20's, when younger women will be in greater demand. And if her boobs get to be more than a small B-cup in size (I was still an A-cup then), no more high-fashion modeling, either. At that point, you start modeling lingerie or you work for Hugh Hefner or Larry Flynt. Or...' she smiled, 'then it's time to get out of modeling.'

"Dollie's husband is a talented amateur photographer. She had him take me downtown and out to parks and attractive business campuses to be photographed against interesting backdrops. She sent these photos to friends of hers in New York. People who had left modeling to work for agencies, and two of them expressed interest in me.

"Dollie helped us select one. They flew me and mom out to New York. Mom had been to NYC before, but it was my first time, and when your idea of a big city has been Cleveland, Detroit, or Pittsburgh, the sheer scale of NYC can be both scary and exciting. I suddenly realized what was meant by 'If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere.' Everybody is moving so fast. I saw on the Discovery Channel or Nova or something that there is actually a correlation between the size of a city and the speed with which people walk.

"They were very enthusiastic during my audition or interview, whatever you want to call it. My mother was so glad for me. The idea of modeling was bringing me out of my shell and making me proud of my body. I was suddenly enjoying the attention I received for being tall.

"One thing led to another and soon I was working with well-known photographers, modeling clothing designed by famous couturiers for shows in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles.

"Then, my mother was asked if I could travel to Europe, which would mean traveling across the ocean without a parent reasonably handy. Living on the West Coast, as was the case, I could always get home on a mere four-hour flight. From Milan or Paris, just to New York is about 6 or 8 hours minimum, then four more (after what might be a fairly long layover) to get home. It was a big decision, but by this time I was seventeen and in a few months I'd legally allowed to make my own decisions anyway, so they decided to give me my first taste of real freedom and let me go.

"The agency's partners in Europe had me going to shows in London, Paris, Madrid, and Milan. I did no more than one show a week, and with meetings about the show and traveling, there were about four or five days of total freedom every week.

"I was going to college via a correspondence program. Both mother and Dollie had drilled into me the fact that modeling was something a girl did for a while, after which she has to be prepared to do something else. And so...I studied business and management, a choice which has served me well.

"Anyway, I was under pressure to become even thinner than I was, so I had to give up grass as my recreational drug of choice because, as we all know, it gives one the munchies. Instead, sad to say, I turned to coke which burns off calories like crazy, mainly by increasing one's metabolism and activity level.

"It also impairs one's judgment and makes one do things one otherwise wouldn't do and take risks one otherwise wouldn't take.

"One of the dirty little secrets of high fashion modeling has to do with the fact that one frequently sees those girls on the arms of filthy rich men. They aren't there because they think those guys are swell guys, they're paid arm candy, and typically there is an agreement, spoken or unspoken, that the men can have their way with the women sexually, too.

"That's right. Many top models are basically engaged in legal hookery, engaging, basically, in sex for money. However, since it's disguised as dating (a euphemism hookers and escorts use as well, with less legal success), they are not generally thought of as sluts.

"Soon, I found myself going to two or three parties a week. Parties where coke and other drugs, heroin included, were quite available. Men who wanted sex would come armed with drugs, and generally were able to buy a blow job or an overnighter for the cost of some coke or pills.

"Oh...I did my share of legal prostitution. Coke can make a pot-bellied middle-aged industrialist look like Matt Damon. Not that all of them were that repulsive. I even fell in love a couple times, but I wasn't thinking clearly. Men don't marry women they've paid to have sex with, so those never turned out well in any way. Any hint I was becoming attached and they'd fade on me. It was during this period that I had my fling with the Italian director, which I know I've told you before.

"That's when I discovered sex with women. I'm basically heterosexual, but like most gals I can be bisexual, and I soon discovered that fooling around with the girls I worked with tended to be less emotionally draining. They wanted the same thing I did: uncomplicated fucking. You can have sex with another female and she doesn't have to feel like she owns you.

"Things went pretty well for three years or so, and then I started getting less work. I had continued to grow and by the time I was 6 feet tall, I was taller than most of the designers wanted. Plus, and even bigger problem was developing. By binding my tits, I was able to hide the fact that my boobs were growing for quite some time, but by the time I had to give in and buy my first C-cup bra, gigs were not coming nearly as often as they had a year or two before. Even though the rest of me was actually a little underweight, my boobs insisted on ballooning until, one day, someone from the agency laid it on the line: I'd get no more couturier work unless I got breast reduction. They did offer me the option of doing lingerie modeling for the likes of Victoria's Secret.

"I went home and sat down with my mother and father and told them what I'd been told and asked for their thoughts. They said, almost in unison, the words that changed my life a second time: 'Honey, you're perfect just the way you are.'

"And so I quit modeling and haven't looked back. I decided not to even go the lingerie route because sooner or later that would be wrong for me, too. I needed a career that relied on my education and intelligence, not just my body."

Then, Belle said, "What's that sound?"

The deluge and wind had died down considerably, and now underneath the pitter-patter of the rain and the occasional whir of wind was a new sound. A rushing water sound. I think we all were simultaneously terrified at what it might mean.

While the motor was off and it was quite dark except for candlelight by then, the bus has certain systems that are always at the ready, one of them being external lighting all the way around. I went to the driver's seat, sat down, and felt around for the switch, which I had seen but hadn't used before. It took about a minute, but finally found it and suddenly we could see what was going on. As I remember it, we said "Oh shit!" in almost perfect unison.

The bus was in the middle of moving water. The sound we had heard was the sound of the water going under the bus with the occasional splash hitting the side or underside of the bus.

Kelsey said, "We are so fucking screwed!" Gina looked out, concerned but silent. Belle sat down in a corner looking like she might suck her thumb any second. I'm sure I was white as a sheet. I don't recall saying much other than that we had no choice but to wait it out.

For a half hour or so it got worse and we could hear that water was now actually hitting the body of the bus full on and not merely going under it.

Gina said, "Put out the candles." "Why?" asked Belle. I said, "If the bus rolls or slides, we could be trapped inside a bus that's on fire, that's why." "Oh," she said, her eyes wide with terror.

We sat around the kitchen table silently looking at each other in the moonlight, for by now the storm was over and all we could do was hope that the water would subside as well, which it did.

I said, "Gina, maybe you should tell Ray what's going on here." "Yeah," she said. She checked her cell phone and said, "No service." I tried mine, which had worked earlier, and it had no service, either. Nobody's cell phone worked, meaning that the storm had probably taken out the nearest cell tower.

Luckily, this superbus had its own satellite communication system. It was safe to light candles again, so we lit up and Gina broke out the manual for the radio, which I read to her as she looked the radio over, identified the various controls, and rehearsing what she would have to do.

After a couple minutes of false starts, she finally got through to someone who could patch her through to Ray, her boyfriend. Ray owns a huge executive jet service, which had made him rich. All I could hear was our end of the conversation, but it went like this:

"Ray, hi. Listen...(pause) Yeah, I know. Oh, the bus has GPS. (pause) You know where we are. Well, that's comforting. Well, yeah, we made a bad choice trying to take a shortcut and we're... (pause) Yeah, we are stuck on a stretch of road between two bad washouts that would have been rough going as it was, until a storm... (pause) Oh, you're aware of that as well. Anyway, if getting off the road was going to be a nail-biter before the storm, I think it can't possibly get much better now that everything is wet and muddy and washed out even more than before. So... (pause) Oh, can you? Will you? Tomorrow before noon? Great. Love ya, sweetie! Yeah, me too."

When she signed off, she saw that we were all looking at her expectantly. "He's fixing things. Tomorrow." "How?" asked Kelsey. "He didn't say," she replied. She didn't need to say more. Ray is a billionaire, and just knowing he was on the case pretty much guaranteed a fix of some sort.

Belle, whose parents are billionaires, too (her father being Ray's brother), was reassured that a billionaire was on the case, and even better her uncle Ray, who she probably respected even more than her own absentee parent dad. For the first time in hours, she was fairly relaxed.

Looking at her watch, Kelsey noted that it was well past midnight by then and that we didn't know to expect in the morning or when it would start, so that maybe it would be a good idea to go to bed. The rest of us agreed, and somehow by unspoken consent, we all, taking the candles with us, went back to the bedroom in the back of the bus, which was intended for two people. It was a queen-sized bed.

We were all so tensed up and needed so much relief that the sex started almost immediately.

It was an all-girl orgy for the record books. Everybody had sex with everybody. Change partners and dance. I'm sure I licked every pussy, and I clearly remember burying my face in Kelsey's ample tits while Belle fingered my asshole. Whatever Gina was doing to Belle was enjoyable judging by Belle's moaning.

Later, I looked over while licking Belle's perfect little asshole to see Gina fisting Kelsey. The next time I looked, Kelsey was fisting Gina's pussy. (Little girl, big pussy!) They had a good time for a while, but I wanted to fuck Gina for a while, too, so I extended a hand and touched hers. She looked my way. Kelsey saw this, slowly extracted her hand from Gina, and she traded places with me.

Gina is my oldest active sex partner. We started having sex in junior high, and sex with her is as comfortable as it gets. Plus, I love her to death and she loves me. It's always special with her. It's "making love" in the full sense of the word, and so I just wrapped my legs around her and hugged her tiny little body to mine, whispering "I love you so much" in her ear, to which she replied "I love you, too."

She clung to me like a child for a while, but then lust got the best of us and we got into tribbing position. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, it's the word for when two girls grind their pussies against each other, and yes, we can get orgasms that way. I've done most of my tribbing with Gina and we're well-practiced at it. So...we had to hold back from orgasm several times so as to make the fun last.

That worked for a while, but finally I found myself looking at Belle's gorgeous pink pudendum (she was engaged in sucking on Kelsey's boobs at the time and her legs were akimbo). That made me a little extra excited. Gina noticed this, smiled, and knew it was time to finish things off. Watching me and pacing herself perfectly, we both came pretty much simultaneously, making a little wet spot in the sheet.

Belle and Kelsey finished each other off while Gina and basked in the afterglow.

That done, we all went to sleep, Kelsey and Gina in the big bed, and once again I took Belle into a bunk with me.

I woke up at one point in the middle of the night. I guess Belle had awakened me, for she was shaking. Shaking and sobbing with her back to me. I stroked her hair and asked, "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Nothing," she said, seemingly shrugging it off.

Yeah, right.

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Another Flood Of Sexy Flix & Pix

SapphicErotica has dished out anothe huge helping of masturbation material which I'm passing along o you for your late evening enjoyment. So, get your little bottle of Astroglide ready and turn up the mood music and get down to business because, as is always the case, the chicks they choose for their SapphicErotica, InFocusGirls, and OnlyCuties sets are super sexy!

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Wednesday, January 16, 2008
In Which We Own The UT El Paso Fucking Team
The Trip West, Pt. XI

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.

According to an online driving distance calculator, the distance from Austin to El Paso is about 530 miles. At the speed we drove the bus and with the occasional shopping or refueling stop, we tended to average around 45-50 miles per hour. So, it was a long day's drive. Not the longest of the trip, but given the harrowing and emotional days before, we were all a bit off our normal sleep schedules and were a bit more tired than normal.

Kelsey stuck it out for four hours before asking for relief. Gina jumped into the breach (I think she likes driving the bus anyway) and drove the rest of the day, except for a half hour when she found herself wanting to nod off. I took over for a half hour, finding myself in peril of falling asleep at the wheel. Luckily, Gina had napped in one of the bunks, which was all she needed to finish the trip.

We pulled into a restaurant's parking lot well after midnight and I ran in to get permission to park in a corner of their oversize lot. It was easily granted at the mention of four girls, along an invitation to come in for a free round of booze. When I went back and relayed the invitation to my friends, the general response was "Hell yeah!"

We changed out of our casual traveling duds into something a bit more festive. You know, something to show off our legs and cleavage, though truth be told, only Kelsey has much cleavage. I'm small, as is Belle, and Gina is absolutely flat-chested. But Kelsey has enough for all three of us, and can be counted on to attract men like flies in any bar or dance club situation.

We all took Margaritas, made with a Tequila supposedly made by a Mexican distiller that the bar owner had a stake in. I think Tequila tastes like piss, anyway, and only becomes palatable when hidden behind something else with an overpowering taste, such as lime juice. So, the Tequila wouldn't have impressed me anyway.

Their drink menu included at least a dozen versions of Margarita, and we agreed to each order a different one and then pass them around a bit. The free Margaritas were soon gone and so we started paying for our drinks. Soon, we were getting a bit tipsy.

The bartender announced on the PA that it was time to play (as he put it) "our song." With this, the crowd grew quiet and as soon as the opening lyrics started...

Out in the West Texas town of El Paso
I fell in love with a Mexican girl.
Night-time would find me in Rosa's cantina;
Music would play and Felina would whirl.

Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina,
Wicked and evil while casting a spell.
My love was deep for this Mexican maiden;
I was in love but in vain, I could tell.

One night a wild young cowboy came in,
Wild as the West Texas wind.
Dashing and daring,
A drink he was sharing
With wicked Felina,
The girl that I loved.

I knew what it was, of course. El Paso, by Marty Robbins. I remembered hearing this song on my mom's car radio from time-to-time. (While my dad is very sophisticated musically, my mom's taste in music tends to be quite a bit more proletarian. For example, Lyle Lovett is one of her favorites, as is Shania Twain, who I think has just about the prettiest female voice around.)

The song is a tragedy. It's about a cowboy who falls in love with a beautiful Mexican girl named Felina (hahaha, which means "the cat"). She's a devilish girl who uses her beauty to manipulate men. Despite his love, she is beyond his reach. One day a handsome young cowboy comes in (I gather the character doing the singing is neither young nor handsome) and she flirts with him. In a fit of jealousy, he challenges the stranger to a gunfight and shoots the boy dead.

He then goes on the run and eludes capture for a while, but is drawn back to the cantina so that he might see the beautiful Felina one more time. Unfortunately, he's spotted on the way in and is shot, eventually dying in the now apparently not-so-wicked Felina's arms.

I have to admit that when you've had 2 and a half Margaritas, the song is quite effective, and while my own eyes remained dry, Gina's and Belle's got pretty misty. Kelsey who doesn't cry much, looked appropriately saddened by the song.

The song ended with a round of applause from all present, and apparently it's a tradition to follow it with something slow. In this case, it was Tanya Tucker singing I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry, the Hank Williams tear-jerker. I was noting how much Tanya sounded like a singer from an earlier generation, Brenda Lee, when Gina was asked to dance by a rather small guy in typical Texas "maybe I'm a cowboy or maybe I sell real estate" clothes. She looked at me as if to ask, "Should I do this?" My smile told her to go ahead, that a dance wasn't really being unfaithful to Ray.

She told him that while she was here alone and wasn't wearing a ring, she had a boyfriend. He said that was okay with him. He was just asking for a dance, not asking her out on a date. They went out onto the dance floor.

I leaned back against the bar. I was between Kelsey and Belle. Kelsey said under her breath, "I really feel deprived. I could really use some cock!" and I laughed because I was thinking and feeling the same thing. Belle turned her head and asked me what was funny, and I said, "Kelsey wants some cock." A sly smile crept onto Belle's face and she said, scanning the room, "Yeah...me, too."

This is when Kelsey took off. Belle and I watched her go to a table not far away where three guys were sitting and talking. There were two pitchers on the table, one empty and the other half full. So they had been drinking and each presumably had had at least 3 beers, as a rough estimate.

She spoke to them briefly, pointed our way, and the three guys accompanied her to the bar. She had claimed the tallest one, a good match for her in height, being perhaps an inch taller than her six feet. His name was Steve.

The other two were about the same height, about 5'10". The one who approached me was named Jason and Belle's was named Abe.

Actually, the Tanya Tucker song ended just as we got out on the floor, but the next one was slow, too. Patsy Cline singing the country classic, Crazy.

As I put my head on Jason's shoulder and danced, it gradually dawned on me that I was feeling something fairly hard "down there." And not just hard, but fairly large as well.

The next song was fast, and so we graduated to the guys' table. Gina lost her dance partner and came with us. She ordered a round of drinks for us girls. The guys still had beer to drink, of course.

"So..." asked Kelsey after taking a big sip from her Margarita, "Who are you guys?"

Steve replied without skipping a beat, "We're the University of Texas El Paso Fucking Team." Gina laughed first, the rest of us following suit. Kelsey spoke up with, "Well, if you guys are up for it, I think you guys are in for a heavy-duty practice session tonight."

The boys pumped their fists in the air and yelled "Whoop-whoop-whoop!" At this point I added a condition: "But you have to dance with us until the bar closes."

And so we spent a little while dancing, for it was about a half hour from closing time anyway. But when closing time came, we discovered that Jason's uncle owned the bar. The bartender/manager was a friend of the family and had no problems with allowing us to remain behind. He reminded Jason that the cleaning crew would come in about 6 a.m.

The jukebox remained on and we continued to dance, but with a difference, because we took our tops off. Generally, when Kelsey removes her top, she becomes the center of attention, at least temporarily, but Jason kept his eyes on me, admiring my little A-cuppers with sincere appreciation. "They're gorgeous," he said. "I like 'em puffy like yours."

"Take off your shirt," I ordered. He was happy to comply. I pressed my tits into his chest and he gave me a firm hug as we finished up dancing to the slow tune that was playing at the time.

Next came Donna Summer's I Feel Love, which surely has to be one of the sexiest disco tunes of all time. Now...I'm no big fan of old disco, but this early example of electronica was way ahead of its time in terms of production techniques, and when you hear it through a capable sound system with lots and lots of bass, it's just unbelievably sexy and infectious. Somehow, Jason had rigged it to play over and over and so you have to imagine what follows as happening to the pulse of I Feel Love.

In every situation like this, we end up explaining to our male partners that Gina is off-limits, for she's, in effect, the bound concubine of her boyfriend and benefactor, Ray. A very nice guy who's also very rich and quite the catch for Gina. She'd be insane to ever be unfaithful to him. She can fuck girls but not guys, and so, typically, one of us will continue with her once we've drained all the sexual energy out of a guy. Sometimes, she just goes without.

Kelsey is the most aggressive of the bunch, and she was the first to tease a cock out into the open. Looking over Jason's shoulder, I saw Kelsey dancing opposite Steve, his cock sticking out of his fly in full erection. A good 11 to 12 inches, I'd guess. They kept dancing a foot or so apart to the throbbing rhythm, and, from time to time, she'd cup his cock gently in her hand and run it up and down the underside of his shaft.

I rubbed Jason's crotch with the back of my hand until it felt hard and then I pointed with my nose in Kelsey's direction. He took the hint and got his cock out. It, too, was mighty large. Another 11 or 12 incher. And as hard as a rock as well!!!

Looked over at Belle and she was progressing in parallel with me, since Abe's dick was out and plenty stiff, too. He also had a big one. All of these guys were about equally endowed.

They were, indeed, the University of Texas Fucking Team!

Belle slowly removed everything but her thigh-highs and shoes in a slow and calculated strip, as did Kelsey. I stripped and teased, too, ending up in my green and black striped stockings that I had created by snipping the legs off a pair of tights. These were held up by a simple black garterbelt. When Jason saw me in these, I could tell that he really, really approved!

I looked at Belle, who I swear has the greatest legs in the world. She has an ass to match, and her face, framed in a a jet black pixie cut...wow. I'm stunned every time I see her body all at once, from head to toe. For a moment, I had a glimmer of self-consciousness for not feeling I was in her league, but I soon realized that Jason didn't feel that way at all. He thought I was fantastic, and soon my self-esteem was back where it belonged.

Kelsey and Steve danced toward a nearby table. She had him lean back against the table. Drawing a chair from a nearby table, she sat down in the chair in front of him and began blowing him every way imaginable: tip licking and sucking, deep throating, handjob mixed with sucking, the curly tongue under the glans tease. You name it, she did it. She knows all the tricks.

Belle simply got down into a squat in front of Abe, and what she lacked in expertise she certainly made up for with enthusiasm. Abe certainly didn't seem on the verge of complaining.

I took Jason over to the bar, but he insisted on giving me head. I had no fundamental complaint with this, so I sat up on the bar, each foot on a the seat of a stool, and he sat on a stool between my legs.

What ensued was, I'd guess, about 15 minutes of fairly expert cunnilingus. He knew lots of tricks, too, and gave me one of the best head jobs I've had...ever. I almost came, and would have hadn't I stopped him. I told him it was time to change places. So he got up on the bar and I sat between his dangling legs, for he had placed himself so that his ass was half off the edge of the bar, putting him into a severe pelvis-forward position. I've noticed that guys seem to enjoy blow jobs best when they can thrust their pelvis forward, their body arched like a bow.

He was so big, I had to try deep throating to see if I could fend off the gag reflex. I did that successfully a few times, but he, like most guys, really appreciated glans attention, so I spent a lot of time sucking and teasing on his glans to his enthusiastic ooohs and ahhhs.

Soon I had him in the situation where, if I continued, he'd cum. Neither one of us would want that, and so he dropped to the floor, picked me up, and took me to a table where, to put it bluntly, he proceeded to fuck my brains out.

If you've been reading my stories, you've read a lot of lesbian scenes, and by far most of my sex is with chicks. My friends, in fact. However, I'm very bisexual, not so much because I'm equally attracted to men and women, but because sex with women, especially friends in a similar situation, is readily available and less fraught with romantic complications.

In truth, there's no substitute for a cock well applied by a guy who knows how to use it. And...Jason really knew how to fuck.

You are probably picturing me laying on my back with him standing between my legs, but that is only one of several positions we used.

When I felt we were getting close to the end, I took it to the next level by telling him that, if he wanted, he could fuck my ass. A delicious leer appeared on his face as he pulled out of one hole and poked his cock into the next one over.

I don't think he'd done anal before, because he was a little too eager to get in. Assholes are not vaginas and require a little delicacy. I told him to take it a little easy, and he did. He's big and it took a little work and cooperation on both our parts to get dick into my ass, but finally he was in, with just a little of my spit and pussy fluids, and his precum, as lubricant.

This was one of the driest assfucks I've ever had and long, dry assfucks can result in a world of pain for several days after, so I told him to get the deed done, which he proceeded to do. I was standing with my chest flat on the table, my legs fairly well apart, masturbating furiously. I came and relaxed, female ejaculate running down my inner thighs. He wasn't quite "there" yet, so I gritted my teeth and maybe 30 seconds later I felt him pull out. This was followed by the warm sensation of his jizz squirting halfway up my back at first, and then into my ass crack.

He dropped into a chair, apparently lifeless. I've learned that men do this because of a flood of calming and relaxing hormones that gets into their blood as a natural part of their orgasm. When I was younger, I used to resent this response, but an older and wiser woman corrected me. We get to have longer and multiple orgasms. They get this hormone-induced euphoria, that almost simulates the effect of a small dose of morphine (a drug whose very name is a reference to sleep).

I grabbed some paper napkins and did my best to clean up my back and ass. As I did so, I looked around and saw that Kelsey and steve were down on the floor and she was taking a fuck in the good old missionary position.

Belle, too, was on the floor face down, her ass slightly up, her arm position telling me that her hands were down in her crotch where she was, no doubt, playing with herself. She was getting banged anally, too. She looked at me through half-opened eyes and a vague little smile appeared on her lips. I smiled back and gave her an intense thumbs-up. She closed her eyes as I did that, and grinned.

"Okay," I thought, "where is Gina?"

She was off in a corner taking in the proceedings and, of course, waiting for it to be her turn. Obviously, she's been priming herself by masturbating while she watched the goings-on, one hand holding her skirt up and the other one tucked into her satin panties.

She saw me coming toward her with obvious intent. Disrobing rapidly, she was ready when I got there. I put my arms around her and she put her arms around my neck, lifting herself up and wrapping her legs around my body, rubbing her pussy against my tummy as I braced her body by clasping my hands under her ass.

We kissed. We've been kissing since our early teens and nobody kisses as well as she does. She's wicked good at kissing. We've been lovers since our early teens, and she knows me inside and out (literally), as I know her.

Soon, she got me hot all over again and went down on me. I closed my eyes for a while, and when I opened them, I saw that Belle had assumed a position behind her where it appeared she was working on little Gina's pussy from behind, and the increasing vigor of Gina's licking confirmed that Gina was not stimulating me, but was being stimulated herself.

Glancing behind my two buddies, I saw that Abe was laying on the floor, all of his energy spent. I could also see that Kelsey, now in a cowgirl position on top of Steve, was just finishing up. She was sitting on him, leaning back on both her hands, and lifting her pelvis up and down on his cock. His eyes closed, his mouth open, he was convulsing in the midst of orgasm, his legs involuntarily moving much the way a dog's legs move when it is running in its sleep.

My eyes closed again and presently I became conscious that someone was pulling me off the bar. It was Gina and Belle pulling me down to the floor. I decided it was my turn to do Gina for a while, so I started licking and sucking her crotch, which was already quite wet. As I did so, Belle squatted on her face and I could see Gina's tongue flicking away on Belle's lovely and perfectly groomed labia.

I heard Gina say something to Belle, but couldn't quite make it out. However, I soon figured out what it was, for I could see little squirts if pee jet from Belle onto Gina's face and into her mouth.

Soon Gina was doing me the same favor. I redoubled my efforts and got her very excited, as the rhythmic motion of her hips was telling me. I had started masturbating and was feeling quite good myself.

It all came to a head when Kelsey, who had taken a wide stance that straddled me let go with a healthy stream of urine, soaking us all. Gina came, I came, and I think Belle came, too, all in the space of a few seconds.

The boys had watched all this with great amusement and applauded when the saw the show was over.

We gathered our clothes and other things and Jason led us back to a room bands could use as a green room before a show. It had a shower off to one side. We went in, helped each other get clean in the shower, and dressed all over again.

When we returned to the bar, the boys were dressed themselves and had cleaned the piss off the floor with paper towels. Each of us, except Gina, said good-bye to our guy and, luckily, they didn't ask for our phone numbers, because we were moving on and tend not to look back in situations like this.

Besides, they couldn't be tied down.

After all, they are the University of Texas Fucking Team.

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They're Back! (Those Sexy Sapphic Pussy Lickers)

It's been a little while since I gave you some masturbation material, but here are the latest galleries from those friendly and generous folks over at SapphicErotica.com. You'll find links to the photo and video galleries below the following four sample photos. Enjoy!

Photos Strapon passion... Carnal pleasures... Lawn loving Garden orgy... Couch fingering... Bedtime trio Poolside passion... Picnic lusts... Garden sex Tender fingers

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Videos Summer love... Awesome 5-way... Office oral Tender toying... Bedroom trio... Strapon surrender Sunbath 3-way... Bedroom love... Finger fucking Park antics

Look At My New Toy!

This is my second toy review, and once again I'll tell you that I am given these toys by PleasureMeNow.com, which is nice. Even nicer, they tell me to give you an honest review, Well, in this case an honest review gives this item a nice strong A-.

It's called the Galan II G-Spot Vibrator by a company called Fun Factory.

What impressed me was the combination of comfort, due to the soft feel of its medical grade silicone sheath. It's 100% hypoallergenic and latex- and fragrance-free.

If you go to an adult store or shop online, you'll run into many shapes and sizes, but this vibrator has a look that's different from almost everything else.

It's 8.25" long and the specs say that 6" of it is insertable. It looks to me like you could certainly insert a good 7"-7.5" but of course if you do that, you're probably not stimulating your G-spot any longer. That's okay, it makes a great "regular" vibrator as well. If you like to take a vibrator up the ass, this one is pretty comfortable, I must say.

Also, if you take your fun in the shower or bathtub from time to time ("Ye Olde Running Water On Your Clit Tricke"), you'll probably get stronger orgasms if you use this toy. Yes...it's waterproof, too!

Anyway, if you want a direct link to where you can find out more about Galan II G-Spot Vibrator, click here. If you want to see the full PleasureMeNow.com G-spot vibrator line, visit their G-spot dildo page.

GirlsOutWest.com Isn't About Cowgirls

No, it's about Aussie girls. You may be familiar with Abby Winters. Well, GirlsOutWest is much the same. I guess it must mean Western Australia or something. All I know is that they have some of the nicest "girl next door" girls around. No, they're not Euro-hotties like the ones you'll find in MET-Art, Hegre, or JustTeenSite. These are the girls who'd be serving you dinner, serving up espresso. Here are a few typical GOW girls (just click on any of them to hop on over to their website):

Sunday, January 6, 2008
Good and Expected News
The Trip West, Pt. X

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.

The last thing I heard the doctor say to my mother was to get my dad to an emergency room immediately. He handed the cell phone back to Gina while saying to me, "Your mother had to hang up," adding, "It doesn't sound like a stroke and certainly not a heart attack. It's probably transient global amnesia, also known simply as 'TGA,' but to be sure your mom has to get him to an emergency room where a neurologist can examine him. Luckily, your mom was with him and can describe his behavior and take some action. If someone has TGA alone, they won't know anything is wrong, but they will probably experience a disconcerting confusion after the episode. Where did the time go? What did I do all last night? Stuff like that."

"But he's acting crazy," I said. "I understand, but patients with TGA generally are quite docile and easily controlled. Typically, they'll just drive you up the wall asking what's going on, where they are going and why over and over again because they can't remember what just happened or what they just said, so they discover and notice things anew every few minutes."

Gina asked the question that was on the tip of my own tongue: "But is it serious?"

"Well," he replied, "first off I can't do a definitive diagnosis over the telephone and I'm not a neurological specialist. It sounds like TGA to me. I've actually run into it a few times. If that's what it is, they may give him a hospital bed and something to help him sleep and when he wakes up in the morning he'll be just fine except he won't remember how he ended up in a hospital ward. Most of the symptoms I heard tend to indicate TGA. Add to that the fact that it tends to happen most of all to men over 50. Given all that, I'd bet that's what it is. You'll know in the morning. The good news is that it doesn't seem to be a stroke or heart attack. And if it is TGA, the word 'transient' is the operative one. It goes away."

I sat there in the dining area of the bus, drinking coffee all night long. They all stayed with me until about 2 a.m. when I realized they were staying up for me. I told them to get some sleep. Gina refused to leave and stayed with me all night long, though she slept with her head resting on my thigh starting about three, which I found comforting.

My cell phone rang at about 6 a.m., startling me and waking Gina up. She sat up as I answered the phone. It was my father. "I hear you're worried about me. I had something called transient..." "Transient global amnesia?" He laughed as he said, "Yes...was that just a good guess or...?" "The doctor here in Texas who talked to mom on the phone predicted that's what it'd be." "Well," he said, "I feel a little strange about not remembering much from last night, but otherwise I seem to be just fine."

Maybe you remember when Halle Berry got the Best Actress Oscar. Tears didn't well up in her eyes, they squirted out of her eyes. Well, that's what it was like for me. When it finally hit home that all was well, tears fairly gushed out of my eyes and I couldn't speak. Gina grabbed the phone so that I could get a grip and talked to him for a little while. I don't know what was said because I was running around hunting up tissues.

Belle and Mike peeked out of their bunks and Kelsey was standing in the doorway of the bedroom at the back of the bus. I told them it was just that TGA thing and that he was fine. They all smiled and said they were glad. Mike gave me a thumbs-up and a wink.

When I got back to Gina, she was talking to my mom and gave me the phone back. My mother thanked me for putting the doctor on the phone for she sincerely didn't know what to do. At first, she thought dad was toying with her, and while he certainly is a bit of a joker, he never lets his pranks get out of hand, so it took a while for her to be sure something was wrong. That's when she tried to reach me (don't ask me why) and when I didn't answer, she tried Gina, who had just switched her phone on. She should have called 911, but that's mom for you.

When they got to the emergency room, they swept him to an examination room while she took care of the insurance details. About 15 minutes later, she was allowed to be with him. The ER physician had said there didn't seem to be any life-threatening aspect to his case and that it was apparently neurological in nature. They waited for a neurologist, which took about 30 more minutes.

The neurologist asked mom a few questions, diagnosed it as TGA, and told my mom that the best thing for him would be sleep. He explained that there are a number of known triggers including stress, immersion in cold water, and sex. My mom laughed when she got to sex, which told me what the trigger had been. She asked the neurologist if it would happen again. He said most likely not, but that recurrences can happen. If it happens again, the doctor said, just bring him in again. Or just put him to bed if the symp