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Hot Girlfriends Self Pictures And Videos

January-22-10

Hot GFs Selpics

Posted by admin under GFs Self Pictures

1 Hot GFs Selpics

To start this day right for you guys, I present to you a set of  sweet GFs Pictures featuring plenty of  bitchy girlfriends exposing their sexiness by getting naked and posing for the camera while showing us how kinky really can be.  Each amateur naked girl possess a nice pair of racks, slim waist, and lovely firm ass are all worth beating your hard meats to. And let me tell you about this homemade set featuring this latina GF, she is damned beautiful and has a perfect huge set of fun bags…I would gladly put my big cock between those boobies…

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January-22-10

Watch My GF Naked

Posted by admin under Promo

hpa_watchmygf_2 Watch My GF Naked

January-22-10

Pretty GFs cam stripping

Posted by admin under GFs Self Videos

303 Pretty GFs cam stripping 312 Pretty GFs cam stripping

32 Pretty GFs cam stripping 33 Pretty GFs cam stripping

Every kinky amateur sweetie has her own different story to tell whenever they are camwhoring for horny voyeur dudes like us. And though Watch My GF , an awesome site specialized in user submitted homemade naked girlfriend porn, has seen millions of this type of naughty babes, each of them always seems to have their own charm and talent to tease your cock and make it bigger… And today I am doing just that, bringing you a nice set of video from this sizzling girlfriend stripping naked while sucking her fingers and masturbating her pink shaven pussy…She’s been gifted with a pretty sweet face and a firm body that can already pass anyone’s taste as sexy.

If you find these clips worth jacking off to, well, wait ’til you see the entire GFs picture and video collection this site has to offer. Click Here To See More!

January-22-10

Amateur GFs posing naked

Posted by admin under GFs Self Pictures

5 Amateur GFs posing naked

Nobody can resist a naughty amateur blonde like this one especially when she is naked. It helps a lot when you got connections like i do who can give you all these GFs self pics who are ready to show off their sweet skin and a whole lot more. A good example would be this long -haired steamy chick I’m showing you today. Obviously, she is damned hot and I don’t even have to point that out i hope. I myself can’t easily shove off the fact that I’m one of the countless horny guys who’d want to bang this slutty GF.

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January-20-10

College And Girlfriends

Posted by admin under Girlfriends Erotic Stories

I have a short story to share, if you want to hear it. It was my freshman year at college and one of our friends, Wanda(about 5′4″ dark hair athletic build) was an R.A. (resident assistant) anyway we had all planned to watch movies in my room one weekend. Wanda cancelled on us because she had to make rounds. At first we didn’t really mind but after two weeks we still hadn’t gotten to hang out because of her RA status. So the four of us went to Wanda’s room (which was on the floor above us) to see if she’d be available this weekend. So as expected she told us that she couldn’t goof off this weekend because of work. Through all of this my roommate (Jerry) was slowly pulling her hands behind her back. Now you have to understand, my roommate’s a really touchy feely guy, so Wanda and the rest of us didn’t really think anything of it. So we’re standing there begging Wanda, a girl that i always wanted to be my girlfriend, to ditch work and come hang out with us when all of a sudden Jerry whips this roll of ductape out of nowhere and quickly starts to wrap it around Wanda’s wrists. Cody and Josh followed his lead and produced additional rolls and going to work on her torso and ankles. By this time Wanda was saying things like “what are you doing!?” “Ha Ha very funny.” and “Ok seriously guys quit it, I have to work tonight.” Cody looked back and me and said, “Curb, can you shut her up or something?” Happy to oblige, I walked around behind her and clamped my hand over her mouth. At first she Mpphhed a little, but I guess she realized that she was beaten and settled down. The guys wrapped her in tape for what I’d swear was about five minutes, when they were done she was mummified. Jerry walked over in front of Wanda and said, “Now, we’re all going down to our room to watch some movies, any objections?” Wanda kind of whined a little then sighed and shook her head ‘no’. “Ok then.” Jerry said while he strolled over to Wanda’s dresser. He opened to top he opened the top drawer (I’ll never forget this) and pulled out a pair of white panties. Wanda went crazy, she even tried to bite me! She started struggling and I had to throw my arm around her torso to keep her from falling over. Jerry walked over to us and told me to take my hand off of Wanda’s mouth. I did, and when I did, more profanity came from her mouth than I’d ever care to hear from a lady again. Jerry stuffed the panties into Wanda’s mouth mid- swear and Cody wrapped some tape around her head twice. Jerry kind of snickered and said “ok, NOW we’re ready to go.” Josh threw Wanda over his shoulder and she kind of let out a yelp and we headed back to my room. We sat Wanda on the couch while we watched such bad cinema as ‘Six string samurai’, and ‘Big trouble in little china’. While Wanda occasionally mpphed or tested the tape.
We let her go after the movies, and boy ‘o boy did she give us a scowling. It’s ok though, we’re all still friends and every once in a while Wanda ‘arranges’ to be kidnapped. Peace, felons

January-20-10

My Girlfriend Tries…

Posted by admin under Girlfriends Erotic Stories

Nothing ever happens on a Wednesday night. No matter what a girl does, if
its Wednesday you should just stay home and either watch TV, read a book,
or call a girlfriend up and have her come over for a visit. I’ve never
really understood why they call it hump-day. Hell that’s what I was out
that evening trying to do, get myself laid, but even though Carolyn and I
were wearing some of our most suggestive, okay slutty dresses, and flirting
around signaling we were on the prowl for cock. After spending 3 hours
bouncing around from bar to bar, and lounge to lounge, and fending off
unwanted advances from some of the most repugnant drunken guys a girl would
have to be desperate to fuck. She and I decided around 9:00pm to just
gather up our purses and call it an evening.

My name is Joan D. I’m a mature 58 year old Lakota and French, half-breed
Native American woman living in Rapid City, South Dakota. I was born in
1950 on the Cheyenne River Indian Reservation here in South Dakota. I
possess what used to be called a photographic memory or as they call it now
an eidetic memory. That means I remember events, people, conversations, and
just about anything I’ve experienced in my life clearly and concisely. In a
sense it’s like I have a recorder in my head and anytime I want to I can
literally close my eyes and recall with perfect clarity any experience I’ve
had, even those that occurred when I was a small girl. When I do this it’s
like I’m watching a TV show or movie playing, and all of it with sound. I
can literally see the things I’ve experienced in my life and when I choose
to do so I can relive the emotions I’ve had. That last part, feeling past
emotions, is rather unique because most people with eidetic memory don’t
have that ability but I do. A lot of people have told me that they wish
they could do what I can do and get a chance to relive their experiences,
but honestly having almost total recall of your entire life experiences can
have a real negative aspect to it because people just think they can relive
the good times they’ve had but for people like me we know that it is not
just the good things in life we recall, it’s all the bad things in our
lives as well. So there is that for the downside of having an eidetic
memory.

Growing up my family, mom, dad, and my 5 younger siblings, 2 sisters and 3
brothers, moved around a lot as dad transferred his way up the Bureau of
Indian Affairs ladder moving from one reservation to the next. I grew up
very girly, very feminine in nature and behavior because that is what my
mother and grandmother expected of me. Since I’m the oldest I also had to
grow up, or act older than my age as a young girl because I helped mom take
care of the rest of the kids when they were little. By the time I was 10 I
knew how to cook, how to clean a house, how to do laundry, and how to
sew. My life as a young girl may sound a bit dull but that’s how all
Indian’s used to live back in those days. The older kids helped raise the
younger kids and honestly I wouldn’t change a thing about my childhood.

I love being a woman and I love showing off my femininity. As old as I am
I’m in good shape, I run, I workout daily, I eat right, heck it must be a
genes thing because I may be 58 years old but honey I still feel like a
young girl and possess the same figure I had when I was in my
twenties. I’ve never colored my hair and it’s only been since last year
that strands of grey have been showing up in the mirror. I’m a size 6
dress, bra size is a 36 C-cup, and I wear a size 7 shoe. I’m 5 foot 5
inches tall, weigh 128 pounds and have medium length jet black hair, well
except for the grey strands that is. My eyes are colored a dark brown and I
have full eye brows. God I just hate those pencil thin eye brows you see on
women nowadays. As a half-breed I have a naturally tanned skin
complexion. In fact if any of you remember her picture Linda Harrison the
actress who played the character Nova on Planet of the Apes, and you’ll
have a perfect picture of what I actually look like in real life because
she and I are exact mirror images of each other, although I’m darker.

Like I said I’m a girly girl. I was raised that way. Mom and grandma were
always instilling in me how important it is for a woman to dress like woman
and behave like a woman. Neither of them ever let me tomboy up when I was
little and both of them more or less lived by the mottos “it’s the clothes
that make a woman” and “always sit like lady.” I’ve come to accept those
two sayings as truisms in my life as well. As a little girl growing up in
the 50’s and hitting my teenage years in the 60’s, I was highly fashion
conscious about clothes which is a rather unusual thing to find among
Indian girls. I used to spend hours and hours paging through the JC Penny,
Sears, and Wards, clothing catalogues daydreaming about being able to
afford all the pretty dresses, fabulous shoes, underwear, and lovely
hosiery, those really pretty women models were photographed
wearing. Because we didn’t have a lot of money and couldn’t afford a lot of
store bought clothes, knowing how to sew and make our own clothes wasn’t
only practical, but sewing also became a pastime for me and something I
grew quite proficient in. Mom used to buy us girls really lovely dress
patterns and fabric and we’d go home and lay things out on our kitchen
table and away we’d go. I just loved making my own dresses. I still have a
1950’s styled one-piece light brown coat dress I made in 1967 when I was
17. It’s one of my most prized possessions. When I made it from an old
pattern I found I shortened the hemline from mid-calf to a more scandalous
mid-thigh length. I never wore the dress out in public but there have been
times over the years when I’ll be home remembering how things used to
be. Missing old times and daydreaming about simpler lifestyles I’ll get my
old creation out and put it on. When I do this I’ll pretend I’m an Indian
version of June Cleaver, the Beaver’s mom, and frankly I’ll clean house,
dusting and vacuuming, in it. Back when I was young where most of my
girlfriends were wearing women’s jeans as little girls and teenagers, I
refused to. No, for me I believed then as I still believe today that the
only proper attire a girl can wear on her body is a pretty dress.

Oh I just love wearing pretty clingy dresses, or stylishly cut form fitting
skirted business suits. I always complete my outfits by donning high heel
pumps; classic pumps are my favorite although I will wear strappies on
occasion. And contrary to public opinion about them today as necessary
every day wear I love wearing hosiery. I’m a stockings girl people. I wear
real 100% nylon stockings held up by garter belts, gartered waist cinchers,
gartered corsets, or a gartered bustier. I wear nylons when I go to work,
attend parties, or socialize with my friends. I love wearing nylons and
revel in how feminine they make me feel. Nylons enhance the look of a
girl’s legs and feet, making what nature gave you look better. Real quality
nylons are soft, silky feeling, smooth to the touch, and utterly female in
essence. The way a stocking can slide across your skin as you walk, sit and
cross your legs; can cause you to get goose bumps. As far as I’m concerned
there is nothing more feminine a girl can wear on her body and how we look
in them, even if a girl isn’t in shape, okay even if you’re a fatty,
wearing nylon stockings on our legs, flashing our stocking tops and garter
straps for a man to see, well ladies you know as well as I do that any guy,
unless he’s gay or grew up around sheep, will become instantly aroused
seeing a woman in her stockings. If a girl for whatever reason can’t wear
her stockings, then I’ll wear pantyhose. I enjoy wearing sheer pantyhose
almost as much as I love wearing my stockings, and I love how tightly they
hug my feet, legs, crotch, tummy, and of course my sweet little ass. It
really upsets me when I hear a woman or one of these young
twenty-something’s call pantyhose tights. God I hate that word. Pantyhose
are hosiery, something we feminine women wear. Tights are something little
girls wear. I am not a little girl. Tights are nothing more than long
cotton socks attached to cotton panties they’re not nylons. I’m a woman and
I wear hosiery. When you wear a pair they move on you sending delicious
little pulses of naughty stimuli over your feet, legs, tummy, and butt,
every time you take a step in them. The first time I ever put a pair on and
felt how snug fitting they were on my tummy and little round ass I got this
incredible horny feeling in them. I spent nearly a whole hour in my bedroom
that day just walking around my room, sitting down, crossing my legs, or
lying down on my bed and rubbing my legs together, just enjoying how
wonderful my pantyhose felt on my body. I realized that day that wearing a
really good pair of pantyhose can be as stimulating to wear as a pair of
nylon stockings. Back in the 60’s when they first came out pantyhose were a
perfect complement for a girl and her mini-skirt. In the 60’s a girl could
put on her pantyhose and only her pantyhose, under a mini or micro-mini and
turn heads every time. Gosh I miss wearing mini’s. Umm they were so
revealing and so provocative, especially if you had the legs and tight
little round ass like I have which mini-skirts were designed to show
off. Guys, boys, they dug us ladies in our pantyhose and mini-skirts and I
was crushed when they went out of style. I love those old 60’s fashions
because they were so feminine.

When it’s winter here in the hills and cold outside I’ll don the sheerest,
silkiest, high quality pair of pantyhose women can buy. You should know
that I’m not a Wal-Mart, Target, or Shopko, girl when it comes to buying my
hosiery. When I need to I’ll buy my hose from department stores so I can
purchase quality nylons, but more often than not I order all my hosiery
through the mail, getting my stockings and pantyhose from specialty stores
in places like New York City. Okay, just New York City, but I did order
some stockings from a place in Chicago once. I was happy with what I
received, perfectly happy, but the store I order from in New York does have
a larger selection of nylons and although the prices in the Chicago store
are a few dollars cheaper. I do admit that I like it when I tell my
girlfriends, and men who appreciate a girl wearing fine quality nylons that
my stockings are from New York. I feel classy and cosmopolitan when I do
this. Silly I know, but true none the less. Anyway when it’s cold here
during the winter I’ll forgo wearing a dress and instead I’ll put on my
pantyhose and go to work wearing a lovely, pretty, pantsuit. My colleagues
at work tease me about how they can tell how cold it is during the winter
because only on the coldest days does Joan D. show up for work wearing
dress slacks instead of standard dress or skirted business suit.

God you should see my lingerie drawers at home, and yes, I did say
drawers. I love wearing soft, clingy, lingerie. No cotton granny panties
for me. I wear silky nylon bikini cut panties, nylon briefs, g-strings or
thongs as everyday wear. When I have my period I’ll wear a gartered
teddy. Every bra I own is either solid lace or sheer nylon. I like my bras
to fasten in the front, not the back. It’s a preference of mine; one I
think is sexy to have because over the years as I’ve disrobed for men and
the lovers I’ve had I’ve learned by watching their reactions as I remove my
bra for sex that guy’s really love it when I go through this little teasing
production I perform for them as I open my bra and expose my tits for
them. A girl can’t do that wearing a bra which fastens in the back.

By the time I was 18 years old, 1968, I was pregnant and married to my high
school boyfriend. I lost the baby due to a miscarriage and fortunately for
me, not meaning the baby, my first marriage ended quickly and I was a
divorced 20 year old woman by 1970. Like most professional girls, and I do
consider myself a professional woman with a great career here in Rapid, I
thoroughly enjoyed my 15 years of being a bachelorette during the 70’s and
early 80’s but honestly I’ve always wanted children and a family I could
call my own. So in 1985 I married what I thought was a wonderful man, my
second husband Ben Swift Bear from Pine Ridge. Like me, Ben is a
half-breed; actually he’s a quarter-breed and lighter in hair and skin
color than I am. Together we conceive our beautiful daughter, Rainy Jo, who
came into this world on my birthday January 20, 1986. Now what are the odds
for that happening, mother and daughter sharing a birthday? Oh little Rainy
has truly been a blessing in my life and there is no one in this world who
means more to me than she does. She was born in the Pine Ridge Indian
Health Service hospital while I was working for the BIA in their Social
Service Office. She is the spitting image of her mom too. About the only
thing of her father you can see in her is her hair color which is much
lighter in color than mine, but other than that she and I mirror each other
in our physical appearance and our personalities. Although I believed my
second marriage was going to last forever by the time 1989 came around my
husband and I were divorced and Rainy Jo and I were on our own and we have
been ever since.

As a divorced single mother, even though I had a good job in Pine Ridge
with the BIA, I wanted more for my daughter than I could give her working
as a Social Service employee. So within a month after my second divorce I
got all the necessary paperwork together that I needed to and by August of
that year I was enrolled and attending college at the University of South
Dakota in Vermillion. My 4 years of college in Vermillion were fantastic
and although it does sound cliché, the college experience even as a single
divorced mother was an eye opening experience and one that not only gave me
a good education and an earned college degree, but it also broadened my
horizons. I became a more socially and politically conscious woman being in
college. I challenged myself to re-evaluate my life and my beliefs and
discovered to my delight that I’m liberal oriented person. I loved being in
college and frankly I’m back now working on my Master Degree. I only have a
semester to go to graduate with a MS in Clinical Psychology but that is
another story for another day.

I graduated with my undergraduate degree in Psychology in May of 1993 and
once I was out of school I applied for and got a terrific job here in Rapid
City in August of that year with the Indian Health Service at the Sioux
Sanitarium or Sioux San for short, working in their Social Service
department and Rainy and I have been here ever since. My job requires me to
work with people, helping them obtain government assistance and do some
counseling for certain clients who really need someone to talk to and a
shoulder to cry on. I get to do some traveling in my job and I’ve been to
big cities like Denver, Albuquerque, Chicago, Phoenix, Minneapolis,
Washington D.C., and New York. What I like most about going on trips to big
cities for meetings is I use the trips as a means for me to go out and hit
those big high fashion department and high end ladies stories where I’ll
buy up as much fancy, sexy, lingerie and hosiery as I can afford. I just
love the work I do, the home I have here in Rapid City, and of course my
beautiful Rainy Jo. But being a single parent hasn’t been easy. There have
been times when I would come home from work depressed, angry, or just
downright lonely for someone to talk to besides my beautiful little
girl. But I’ve never remarried and frankly don’t intend to. If there was
one single minded goal I had in my life as a mother with a beautiful
daughter it was to ensure that my little girl would grow up like I believe
all little girls should, and that is girly and independent. Hell I did and
did it living on Indian reservations. So for Rainy Jo that meant that I was
always open and honest with her, trying to instill in her good values and
principles, but especially good personal beliefs about what it means to be
a woman and how young ladies conduct themselves and dress themselves. I
wanted Rainy to have the things I wished I’d had as a young girl so I doted
on her, still do actually, and I made sure to teach her how to appreciate
pretty girly things. As her mother it was important to me to teach to want
to wear pretty dresses and pretty underclothes like her mommy, and never
being afraid to explore her own interests. Although I am Indian, the thing
I hate, well detest, is the simple fact that Indian girls are like white
girls nowadays, they dress like boys and look like shit. Oh pretty girls
are pretty no matter the clothing but I just hate all this unisex clothing
kids wear. I know I’m a product of my era which are the 60’s and 70’s
because for me a woman should look like a woman when she dresses herself
for public outings, and more so for intimate occasions. So with that in
mind I’ve made doubly sure that Rainy Jo’s taste in clothing has mirrored
my own.

Okay, I began my story by bringing up what I’ve always thought of as my
hump-day, the Wednesday night in late October when my girlfriend Carolyn
and I tried to get ourselves laid. Now why did I do that? Well I did so
because that is the night back in 1998 when I became my daughter Rainy Jo’s
nylon fuck whore. Oh God having an incredible incestuous relationship with
my daughter has been both a blessing and curse in my life because of the
shame and guilt I feel inside about fucking my beautiful little girl when
she was only 12 years old. Never in my life did I ever think my daughter
and I would become nylon wearing lesbian lovers with each other. God it’s
so sick, sinful, wicked, and depraved, what I did to my own daughter that
there are times when I remember how we got ourselves into that situation
that I’ve actually thought about putting a razor blade against my wrists
and slicing them open. I’m so ashamed of what I did to my little girl. So
ashamed of what I allowed her to do to me that I just hate myself. Yet,
honestly, in a truthfulness, as bad as I feel sometimes when I think back
about the two of us having sex and just becoming these wanton sluts with
each other, every time I remember that night in October, and the nights
which came afterwards when her and I shared my bed as lesbian lovers; when
I remember every sick, disgusting, depraved, utterly degenerate, thing her
and I did with each other, those memories are so sexually arousing, so
stirring, and physically exciting to me that I can’t help myself and I
always end up masturbating like crazy to them.

Rainy Jo’s babysitter whenever I went out was Mrs. Madeline `Maddy’ Allen,
of 121 Prescott Lane. Maddy was a wonderful auntie type woman, you know the
lovable, crazy, carefree, cliché older auntie figure we see on TV shows and
in movies. She was a widow who used to live next door to us here in
Rapid. When Rainy and I moved to Rapid City in 1993 after I got out of
college, Maddy, who was 50 years old then and 8 years older than I was,
welcomed us to our new home by bringing over a complete evening dinner
basket to share with us our first night in the house. After spending most
of move in day stacking boxes, unpacking boxes, shifting furniture around
setting up our living room, arranging our bedrooms, putting kitchen and
bathroom things away, hanging pictures, heck just settling into our new
home, Rainy Jo and I were just exhausted. We had been so busy that neither
she nor I noticed the sun going down or that it was growing dark
outside. Yet that evening as we were deciding what we were going to do for
supper the doorbell rang and we looked at each other wondering who could
possibly be calling on us? When I opened the door and laid my eyes on
Mrs. Madeline `Maddy’ Allen, of 121 Prescott Lane for the first time I was
a bit stunned by her appearance. Illuminated by the porch light, I saw her
standing on my front steps wearing a pretty print dress, classic high
heels, and a hair comb in her hair. I literally thought that Donna Reed,
the actress in `It’s a Wonderful Life’ and who had her own TV show from
1958 to 1966, was standing in front of me. With a smile that brightened the
spirits of any one blessed to receive it Maddy introduced herself, and
informed me that as her new neighbor she felt it was her duty to come over
and welcome Rainy and I to the neighborhood. All three of us hit it off
instantly around the dinner table that evening and she and Rainy became
fast friends with each other by the time dinner was finished. In fact Rainy
always called her auntie Maddy after that and she cried and cried and cried
for her when she died suddenly in 2003 at the age of 60 from a brain
aneurism. I loved Maddy as a friend, confidant, and relative, and like my
daughter I cried hard when she died. She was such an incredibly fun-loving
woman, who simply enjoyed life to the fullest. Oh the times we shared
together were special. Maddy was over to our house almost every day,
pitching in helping me clean, or relaxing with me in the living room
drinking soft drinks, or coffee, or tea, as we chatted and gossiped with
other about girl things, store sales, television shows, goings on in the
neighborhood, or daily events happening in town, in the state, or national
news. She adored little Rainy and used to take her out shopping and
sightseeing in the hills. The first time I ever decided to go out with my
girlfriends from work for an evening of dancing and flirting around, Maddy
insisted on babysitting for Rainy. She wouldn’t allow anyone but her own
self to sit with my precious little baby and frankly I was so relieved that
she’d volunteered sit for her because there was no one else in this world
that I really trusted with my little girl.

Now usually when Maddy came over to sit for Rainy she always knew to expect
me home anywhere between 1am or 2am in the morning. I remember how she
would always encourage me to stay out late when I headed out for a night on
the town with Carolyn or any of my other girlfriends, but honestly staying
out any later than 2am just wasn’t and isn’t something I’m comfortable
doing. I suppose I’m too much of a mom to be comfortable leaving Rainy Jo
to wake up in the morning and watching her mother come through the front
door tired and still buzzed up from horsing around all night.

What you have to know about me is that I’m a very sexual woman. I’m what I
describe as a aggressive/submissive girl, meaning I’m up for almost
anything a man cares to do sexually to me, and more often than not I’ll end
up telling a guy what I want him to do to me. I’ve never been a simple
`wham, bam, thank you madam lady.’ I’m a sexually uninhibited woman who
enjoys herself thoroughly during sex. I like what I like, want what I want,
and I don’t apologize for this. I always keep my nylon stockings on when I
fuck because wearing them during sex makes me feel pretty. I love it when a
man touches, and caresses my stocking clad legs with the tips of his
fingers, or best of all when I have a man brush his lips along my stocking
feet, calves, and thighs. Being touched like that and experiencing the
thousand and one electrifying tingles that shoot up through my nylon clad
legs makes me feel so soft and feminine inside. I just love being dominated
in bed and I’ve always been into bondage, not the hard stuff mind you, but
I love being tied up and fucked until I scream in pleasure. I’m a very
visual person too especially when it comes to sex. I don’t like making love
in the dark. Therefore I insist that my lover keep a light on because one
of things I love most when I’m fucking is being able to see my stocking
legs held up in the air when I’m being penetrated. I love looking at my own
stocking legs and feet during sex and if a man won’t touch my nylons during
sex, if he won’t feel me the way I want him to, well believe me that guy is
never fucking me again. I’m not afraid either to have a man take pictures
of me during sex. I love being photographed in my nylons and posed either
sucking or fucking him. Being in front of a camera, or better, a video
camera and getting myself recorded fucking a man, being tied up and
dominated in bed, watching sex tapes of me in those oh so hot kinds of sex
sessions is such a turn on for me. I absolutely love it. Yes people, I’m a
complete wanton whore when it comes to sex, but you must know too that I
don’t go home with any of the one-night stands I hook up with in clubs. I
may love being a whore in bed when I’m with a man but I’m not a fucking
tramp. Instead I make the guy get a hotel room for us and then once we get
each other off I clean up and then I go home. I never, ever, bring a man
back to my place. On occasion but not often I will go with one of my
boyfriends, men I know and date and who like me are not looking for
something more than a casual sexual relationship, to their place for
sex. When I do this we’ll have sex of course, but once we’re done I’m
cleaned up and on my way home. Anyway like I said already I’m usually home
by 1 or 2 in the morning but that Wednesday night back in 1998 I came home
unexpectedly early.

After dropping Carolyn off at her place I drove home and kind of stewed
behind the steering wheel thinking to myself that here I was all dolled up
and horny for some hot sex, and instead of finding me a good cock attached
to a fairly decent man here I was going home early. To describe how I felt
as being sexually frustrated is putting things mildly. Frankly I was
feeling rather pissed off because I wanted to be with someone that night. I
wanted to feel special and wanted, longed for and lusted after. I was
craving to be held, touched, to have a man explore my body with his hands,
to feel him kissing my nylon clad legs, brushing his lips along the soles
of my feet, flicking his tongue across the bottom of each of my toes, and
then slowly kiss his way up my stockings until he finally made his way up
between my legs and enthusiastically began probing deep into my pussy with
his hot, wet, strong, tongue. Oh god I was horny that night but every guy
hitting on Carolyn and I that night had been either drunken boys who’d
tried way too hard to impress two really hot looking women, or they’d been
just plain old ugly guys, smelly truckers, or cowboys. God I hate cowboys,
or shit kickers as my dad calls them, they smell and stink. They are such
uncouth people and have no idea how to treat a lady. Anyway as I drove
myself home, as I turned down my street, I told myself that once I got to
the house I would thank Maddy for sitting with Rainy, see her to the door
and wave her goodbye as she went home. Once Maddy was out the door I’d
check to make sure my little girl was sound asleep in bed, and then after
locking the house up I was going to head upstairs to my bedroom, drop my
dress, remove my silky thong, kick off my high heels, and leaving my lacy
bra, garter belt, and coffee brown reinforced heel and toe nylon stockings
on, I’d step over to my dresser get out one of my dildo’s from the top
drawer and after I put on some nice music and dimmed my nightstand lamp,
I’d turn down my sheets, lay down on my back on my bed, spread my legs, and
quite literally fuck my pussy silly with my dildo until I came good and
hard.

God I was so horny that night. Yes I was disappointed about not finding a
man for sex but on the other hand there are a lot of good things to say
about a girl fucking herself silly with her own dildo. And so by the time I
pulled into my driveway I was actually getting wet between my legs and
damping the front of my thong with pussy juice thinking as I was about what
I was going to do to myself once I got into my bedroom. Parking the car,
switching off the ignition, and getting out I noticed the light was on in
my bedroom window which overlooks the driveway. The outside light above the
backdoor was off and as I used my key to unlock the door and go inside I
noticed the only light on in the house on the first floor was the floor
lamp I had next to the foot of my couch. All my window curtains and drapes
in the living room, the curtains in the kitchen, the small dining room
area, and on my front and back doors, were tightly closed. While I peered
around noting all the closed curtains, but unconcerned about it, from
somewhere upstairs I could hear music playing. Usually when I got home
after a night on the town Maddy would be lying stretched out on the couch
watching TV or listening with her eyes closed to the type of soft rock
instrumental music I could hear softly playing upstairs. But as I stepped
into the living room Maddy wasn’t there. Since it was early, well early for
me anyway, I just thought that Maddy and Rainy Jo were upstairs and Maddy
was getting my little girl into bed for the night. After all a quick glance
at my wristwatch showed me it was nearly 10pm, Rainy Jo’s bedtime, so
blissfully ignorant of what I was about to walk in on I left the living
room, went down the first floor hallway paralleling my driveway, to
upstairs stairwell at the back of house and headed quietly up stairs. Like
most people who have stairs in their home I know by heart the exact number
of stair steps, 10, leading upstairs in my house. By the time I got to step
4 I froze in place with one high heeled stocking clad foot on step 3 and
the other on step 4 because drifting down the stairwell I heard the sound
of a woman moaning out loud.

Oh My God. I remember with perfect clarity that moment on the steps. Frozen
in place I listened to what I can only describe as the purest, most
heartfelt, sensuously quivering, breath catching, deeply emotional, and
throaty, mind-blowing moan of pure unadulterated pleasure that was so
utterly female in expression that I simply caught my breath in
amazement. Never in my entire life had I heard such a sound as that
beautifully wondrous, sumptuously stimulating sexual moan. It was so
passionate, so ardent, and I’ll be damned but I knew that voice, or better
yet, who had made that moan which I knew was coming from my own bedroom. It
was Maddy!

What was happening in my bedroom? My breath caught in my throat and I had
to reach out to steady myself with my hand against the wall. Did Maddy have
a man in there with her? Had she put Rainy Jo to bed and then as my little
daughter slept soundly snug in her bed across the hall from my room, did
she bring a man into my home, into my bedroom, so they could fuck on my
bed? Heaven help me but I felt totally crushed by the very idea of
Mrs. Madeline `Maddy’ Allen, of 121 Prescott Lane sneaking a man into my
home so she could have sex with him in my own fucking bed when she was
supposed to babysitting for my beautiful little Rainy Jo, and making sure
she was safe, protected, and taken care of while I was out. An intense
feeling of anger came over me and I felt my face flush and burn hot with
indignation as Maddy’s moans of pleasure punctuated with small yelps of
“oh, oh, oh,” grew louder and more intense. The realization of what was
going on in my bedroom so pissed me off that I made up my mind I would
confront that bitch and whoever she had with her right there and then. I
was going to burst into my bedroom and surprise the cunt, catching the two
of them in the act, and then as I imagined how the two to them would be
scrambling to cover themselves up I would deliver this condemning
ass-chewing of the ages, and then kick the perverts out of my house. How
fucking dare she sneak a man into my home, into my bed, and expose my
precious, innocent, little baby girl to such a carnal act. The bitch was
going to pay for this betrayal of my trust.

My house is an old rectangular designed two-story Victorian style
home. It’s actually small and charming because it was built way back in the
60’s. Upstairs are two bedrooms which sit across the hall from each other,
and at the end of the hall is a bathroom. Each bedroom occupies one an
entire side of the upstairs, running the length of the second floor. The
floors measure 12 feet by 21 feet, so Rainy and I have really large
rooms. My bedroom is on the right side of the hall overlooking the driveway
with the bedroom door just a few feet away from the top of the
stairs. Rainy Jo’s bedroom is on the left side of the hallway and her
bedroom door is located closer to the bathroom at the end of the hall so
our bedroom doors are offset from each other. The door to my room swings
open to the right and my bed is directly across the room from it. When I
got to the top of the stairs I could see my bedroom door was partially open
but the door I was concerned with most was Rainy Jo’s. I desperately wanted
it to be closed so the sex sounds emanating from my room wouldn’t be
overheard by her. I very much hoped my poor little baby was asleep and not
lying in her bed listening to Maddy tearing it up in my room. I was so mad
at Maddy that I felt like I could just burst. But the moment I saw Rainy’s
door was shut a modicum of relief washed over me and I turned my attention
back to my own bedroom doorway and that’s when it registered with me that I
could see into the bottom half of my room.

You know had I taken just one small step forward I would have ended up
standing directly in front of my bedroom doorway but that quick glance down
to the hall to check Rainy’s door first made me pause at the top of the
stairs. Essentially because of my position at the top of the stairs, the
fact that my door was only partially open and casting a shadow into the
hall because it was being backlit by my nightstand lamp next to my bed,
this meant that I was shielded from being easily seen. Oh you could see me
if you looked directly out the door at me but you would have seen me
silhouetted in the shadows. Anyway before I could take that last step to my
door I looked into my room and there between the foot of my bed and my
mirrored dresser and my mirrored vanity which were both resting up against
the bottom wall of my room I saw the most shocking, unbelievable, mind
numbing, outrageous, shameful, and despicable, thing in my life. I swear
the bottom of jaw touched the top of my chest as I just froze up bugged
eyed and utterly stunned as I identified just who Maddy was having sex with
in my bedroom.

No! No! No! This couldn’t be happening! This couldn’t be true! I wanted to
scream! I wanted to shout! I wanted to make the scene in front of me
disappear. The balled fist of my right hand snapped up to my mouth and I
bit down hard on my knuckles stifling a silent shocked cry of despair,
disbelief, and soul shearing grief. What I saw going on in my bedroom so
stunned me that it felt like someone had just delivered a hammer blow to my
stomach, driving the wind from my body. I felt like I was being
smothered. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, and worse, I couldn’t look
away! I felt a wave of dizziness sweep over me as tears formed in the
corner of my eyes as I instantly recognized the partially obscured facial
features of the person who was sexually pleasuring Maddy in my bedroom.

Oh dear god in heaven! Oh sweet Jesus! It was my darling, sweet, innocent,
little girl Rainy Jo.

Hump-day, the late October Wednesday night in 1998 when my girlfriend
Carolyn and I tried to get ourselves laid is for me the worst night I have
ever experienced in my life. Yet honestly, it is also the greatest night I
have ever experienced in my life. Imagine the worst and best night I’ve
ever had and they both stem from the same event and experience.  In the
open floor space between the foot of my bed and my dresser and vanity,
Mrs. Madeline `Maddy’ Allen, of 121 Prescott Lane stood hunched slightly
forward with knees bent straddling my little girl who was on her knees down
on the floor between her legs. Rainy was bent backwards, stretched out with
knees open and parted, with her arms behind her back holding herself
upright. She had her face buried in Maddy’s crotch yet I could still see
the upper portion of her face. Maddy was faced towards the far wall of my
room. Their position below my bed relative to mine by my door meant I was
seeing a full unobstructed side view of the two of them. As I struggled to
comprehend the scene being played out in front of me, rapidly blinking my
eyes, trying to clear away my tears, Maddy threw her head back between her
shoulders moaning in ecstasy as Rainy Jo, my sweet little Rainy Jo, used
her little girl’s mouth to pleasure her hairy old pussy. The sight of them
together like that sent my head spinning. Wishing the scene in front me
wasn’t happening. Silently screaming that what was taking place in front of
me couldn’t be real. I just stood there in the hallway in the shadow of my
bedroom door biting down hard on my knuckles staring at the two of them.

As Rainy continued to eat out her babysitter’s pussy, making that perverted
cunt moan and groan with pleasure as her 12 year old tongue lapped,
swirled, and probed deeply into her, an uncontrollable full body shudder
hit me and I began to tremble and shake. Neither Maddy nor Rainy Jo was
naked. No, they weren’t naked at all. While I watched spellbound by what
was occurring in my bedroom I took in how Maddy, my most trusted friend, a
woman both I and my daughter called auntie, I saw how she’d dressed herself
and dressed my daughter as they fornicated with each other in my bedroom.

While my sweet baby girl continued to tongue fuck her, making her whimper
like a bitch, my eyes roamed across Maddy’s still trim 54 year old
body. She was wearing a beautiful gartered, black lace trimmed, red satin
open breasted corset. The garment is designed to enhance as well as help
create a defined hourglass curve for a girl’s figure and believe me it did
just that. I saw she was shoeless straddling over my daughter and my eyes
were drawn to her stocking clad legs. Oh damn how I hate myself for the
sudden, unexpected, simply disgusting sense of admiration that hit me as I
drank in the sight of her lovely stocking legs. I should have been rushing
into my bedroom at that moment, hell before that moment, and physically
throwing that bitch off of, and away from my daughter. But the sight of
Maddy’s legs, those long, full, perfectly structured stocking legs of hers
kept me riveted in place by my bedroom door. My god she had beautiful
legs. She had on a pair of topaz colored reinforced heel and toe stockings,
real nylon stockings just like I wear, and her nylons shimmered and gleamed
in the soft bedroom light. So perfectly fitted, they defined and brought
out every sensuous detail of legs. God I hated myself for admiring how
fabulously stunning she looked in them but I couldn’t help myself. As I
drank in the sight of her stocking legs, letting my eyes roam over her
shapely tapering thighs, and down her sculptured calves, I simply marveled
at how pretty her legs looked. Her stockings were striking, and how
magnificently they hugged her thighs, calves, and shapely feet, how they
outlined and defined her legs was amazing. Her nylon stockings were a
breathtakingly perfect match for her creamy skin tone and they made her
legs look absolutely gorgeous. I couldn’t help but silently commend her for
her choice of color for her hose.

And my little girl Rainy, my sweet, beautiful, darling, little baby girl,
the joy of my life, my darling little angle, the one person in this world
who means more to me than mere words can possibly describe. There
underneath Maddy was my little 12 year old Rainy Jo down on her knees on my
bedroom between Maddy’s spread stocking clad legs, I saw my little girl was
wearing a deeply brown colored pair of my finest, sheerest, pantyhose. Oh
my god she looked so incredibly beautiful in them, so utterly feminine and
sexual, that I couldn’t stop myself from gasping out loud at the sight of
her. Rainy Jo was only 12 years old in 1998 but she was entering into
puberty then and her little girl’s body was beginning to flesh out in all
the right places. Even at 12 years old she had an elegant body line,
developing curvaceous hips, an impossibly well rounded and exquisitely
defined derriere, a taut slim waist, and a deepening upper torso on which
her breasts had begun to bud. Rainy had always been blessed with those long
perfectly proportioned legs and very pretty shapely little feet. Yet when I
saw her wearing my pantyhose and how they wore on her legs, even tucked
under her, how they outlined the side of her pretty little foot, and lord
how smooth and wholly form fitting they were around her waist, and the way
they showed off the curve of her tight little rump, seeing her dressed in
them, wearing them, wearing nylons for sex like her mother does, oh lord I
was completely blown away by how she looked. The waist top of my pantyhose
she had on were an even darker hue than the legs were and she looked
absolutely striking in them. Looking at my baby, admiring her nubile young
body, I could see that the front of my pantyhose had been holed, either
torn or cut open, done so in order to expose her crotch and make her hot,
young, little pussy accessible to Maddy. Even in the in the soft glow of
light illuminating my bedroom I could see that wisps of delicate downy soft
pussy hair were beginning to grow above her clit. Lastly as Rainy’s hot
young tongue forced another deep groan of pure pleasure from Maddy I saw
that my little girl’s wrists were bound tightly together behind her with a
nylon stocking. Oh god forgive me but seeing my daughter performing a deep,
vigorous, pussy tonguing, while wearing a pair of my pantyhose and being
bound at her wrists by a nylon stocking. Forgive me, but the sight of her
like that was so powerfully erotic, so sensual, so magnificently sexual,
that my anger at discovering Maddy having sex with my precious little girl
evaporated in an instant. While I stood in the hallway next to my bedroom
door watching my daughter service Maddy so wantonly, so hungrily, my body
began to respond in a manner that shamed me because an overwhelmingly
powerful, animalistic, lust unlike anything I’d ever felt before that night
began to well up within me.

Abruptly Maddy gasped, catching her breath, and I saw goose bumps suddenly
sprout up down the length of her arms. She cried out in pleasure and
lowered her head to look down into the upturned face of my daughter. When
she did this I saw around her throat that she wore a thin black satin
chocker, and I listened as between gasps of pleasure she ordered my
daughter to continue munching on her dripping wet cunt.  “That’s it my
sweet little whore. Oh my pretty little baby. Keep sticking your wicked
little girl tongue in my pussy. Oh god sweetie tongue fuck your auntie
Maddy until I cum in your mouth baby. Tongue fuck auntie Maddy until she
cums!” That last cry of hers was nearly a scream as Maddy reached down with
both hands and grabbed Rainy Jo behind her head and pushed her mouth
tightly up against her pussy.

As Maddy ground her pussy into my daughter’s face she rose up onto the
balls of her stocking feet and I heard Rainy Jo loose a muffled but
deliciously wicked nasty high pitched moan of pleasure as she furiously
tongued out her auntie’s pussy. God my sweet little girl was simply tearing
it up between Maddy’s spread legs. I watched in utter awe as she moved her
head slightly from side to side while opening her little 12 year mouth as
wide as possible, all in an attempt to ram as much of Maddy’s wet pussy
into it as she could. Suddenly Maddy turned her head to the right exposing
most of her face to my view and I saw this incredible expression of pure
sexual satisfaction and unbounded joy on her face. She seemed to be in a
completely different world, one that I know well, the unabashed deeply
intimate and personal world of a woman building towards a powerful, almost
spiritual orgasm, an orgasm that explodes throughout your entire body
sending wave after wave of electrifying muscle quivering spasms through you
that rocks a girl from head to toe and leaves you feeling totally spent and
utterly satisfied. Her mouth was partially open, her eyes were tightly
closed, and she was gasping for breath over and over as Rainy Jo feverishly
continued tonguing out her pussy. That look on her face told me she was oh
so close to exploding in my baby girl’s hot mouth.

Maddy’s expression thrilled me beyond description and an undesired,
unwanted, shameful, thrilling rush of an intensely burning deeply felt
sexual arousal welled up inside me. Pure, raw, wanton, uncaring, emotional
lust, washed over me, and any degree of shame or disgrace I had felt
towards myself and the physical reactions I was experiencing at the sight
of my little 12 year old daughter eating out Maddy just
disappeared. Underneath my bra my nipples hardened like never before and
grew almost painfully pointed and erect. Down between my legs a deep
pulsating throbbing began and a rushing hot tingling sensation exploded
throughout my own pussy as the noises Maddy and Rainy Jo were making, their
murmuring, their whimpering, and cries of ecstasy started to increase in
volume and intensity. I felt so excited; I was so aroused, that my
sphincter muscles contracted involuntarily.

Good god that was my baby girl down on my bedroom floor in front of me. I
should have been charging into my room to physically attack the fucking
bitch whose pussy she had her innocent mouth on, but instead of stepping
into the room to put an end to this insane nightmare and kill that old
bitch with my bare hands, I just stood there watching and listening as
Mrs. Madeline `Maddy’ Allen, of 121 Prescott Lane, that Donna Reed looking
cunt, the woman I had trusted for the past 6 years to watch over and care
for my little baby daughter, just ejaculated shot after shot of hot pussy
cum into Rainy’s open mouth and across her upturned angelic little
face. There were tears in Maddy’s eyes as she pulled and pushed Rainy Jo’s
face into and away from her squirting pussy. Just like men, a woman when
she’s experiencing a powerful orgasm, we can ejaculate and shoot out spurt
after spurt of hot gooey cum. Fuck we can shoot it father out than any man
can for that matter. Maddy’s orgasm hit her so hard that her entire body
shook, her cum shot out of her not in massed globs of hot womanly juices
but in thick long pulsating streams which splashed and splattered into
Rainy Jo’s open hungry mouth which my little one happily swallowed
down. God her orgasm was a wondrous mess to behold. Huge drops of errant
cum splashed across Rainy’s beautiful face hitting her on the forehead, her
eyes, her nose, her lips, her cheeks, and her chin. Between gulps,
franticly trying to catch as much of Maddy’s hot juices in her mouth as she
could, I heard my little 12 year old begging her auntie Maddy to give her
all she had.

“Please auntie,” she whimpered. “Let me have it all. I want to taste it,
feel it, smell it, and eat it all for you.” Rainy Jo’s face was just soaked
with hot cum. Holy fucking God! How long Maddy stood over my daughter
squirting out thick pulses of hot cum into her mouth and across her lovely
angelic face, thoroughly drenching my little girl, I’ll never accurately
know, but it seemed like she would never stop. The tonguing ministrations
administered to her nasty fucking pussy by my daughter had been an
unbelievable sight to behold.

Maddy’s breathing was ragged and horse sounding as she fought to catch her
breath. I heard her murmur “oh, ooh, oh,” softly to herself while she
placed her hands on her knees to support herself. She was still quivering
from her orgasm and dripping fluid down onto Rainy as she dropped her head
down and spoke softly to my daughter. “Oh my sweet baby,” I heard her
say. “You’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me in my life
baby girl; the most wonderful beautiful thing in the whole wide world.”

“I love you auntie Maddy,” Rainy Jo replied. “I love you as much as I love
my mommy,” and then she smiled.  A small smile, one so beautiful, so
angelic, that seeing it just brought tears to my eyes.

“I love you too my little angle,” Maddy said, and then she stepped back
from my daughter and repositioned herself above her. Sinking down into a
crouch, then falling to her knees so she could mount Rainy Jo, Maddy leaned
in and sticking out her tongue I watched in dumbfounded fascination as she
placed her tongue flat on the cummy face of my little girl and licked up a
cooling puddle of her own milky cum and brought it into her mouth. Hearing
her swallow it, watching her clean my baby’s face with her tongue, god it
looked so disgusting seeing her do that. It was so raunchy, so sick and
perverted. I felt repulsed by what she was doing, licking up and eating her
own cum, “ummmmmm, ummmm,” she went.

Rainy, eyes closed, just remained still as Maddy cleaned her face. I could
hear my little girl breathing rapidly through her nose as Maddy reached
down and ran the palms of her hands along my daughter’s pantyhose clad
tummy then up to her tiny buds. She cupped Rainy’s tiny buds in the palms
of her hands, pressing and squeezing on her, grabbing her little erect
nipples between her finger and thumb tips, tweaking them and pulling on
them. Rainy Jo moaned softly under her touch, enjoying how the older woman
brought her little 12 year old body into a state of sexual arousal.

As Maddy fondled her buds, she asked Rainy Jo how she liked having her
nipples fondled. “Does it feel good sweetie,” she demanded. “Do you like
this? Do you like it when I pinch your little titties and nipples?”  “Yes
auntie,” Rainy softly replied. “I like it.”

I saw Maddy smile into the face of my daughter, enjoying the sexual
domination she had over her. I watched in horrified fascination and
disbelief as she ran her tongue across the cummy chin and lips of my
daughter, gathering up her spent juices, sucking that load into her
mouth. Oh god I knew what she was going to do. I heard my little girl, my
angel, whisper “yes, yes,” and I covered my mouth with my hand as I watched
Maddy tilt her head to the left, and kiss Rainy Jo on the mouth. I watched
her tongue probing deeply into Rainy Jo’s mouth knowing full well that she
was transferring her cum to my little girl. Rainy whimpered and returned
her kiss and as my baby received her gift from Maddy she opened her
beautiful brown eyes and looked directly at me.

Oh my fucking Christ. Oh my sweet fucking Christ! Rainy Jo was looking
directly at me and even as she continued kissing Maddy, accepting her cum
into her mouth, I saw the corners of her mouth pull back in a smile.  Time
drew still as Maddy and Rainy Jo kissed one another deeply and
passionately. The whole time the two of them kissed Rainy Jo never took her
eyes off me. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t do anything but
stand there and return her gaze. Maddy lowered her left hand to softly
stroke the length of my daughter’s pantyhose clad thigh, while bringing her
right hand down between their meshed bodies so she could use her fingers to
stimulate her sweet young pussy. I became aware listening to my daughter
whimper in ecstasy under her touch that while I had been standing by the
door watching the two of them behave so shamefully with each other that I
had taken my hand away from my mouth and had been quietly, but urgently,
squeezing and kneading my own breasts, feeding the mounting sexual arousal
that had been building within me as I watched my daughter being sexually
abused by Maddy. As my eyes locked with and held my daughter’s gaze I
became aware of what I was doing to myself with my left hand which I had
dropped down between my legs.

When I began to masturbate watching Maddy and Rainy Jo escapes me. But at
some point while I had been watching my beautiful little girl bring Maddy
off, marveling at how expertly she’d tongued fucked that woman, and how
willing she’d taken her cum shots into her mouth and across her whole face,
I had dropped my left hand down and lifted up the front of my dress
skirt. I honestly don’t remember doing it but after lifting up the front of
my dress I had bunched it up and held it tightly up against my abdomen with
the inside of my forearm. Between my legs, underneath my thong, my hand was
stimulating my pussy, stroking, tweaking, and pinching my swollen wet cunt
lips. As Rainy Jo and I continued to stare at one another a disgraceful,
sinful, but overwhelming desire came over me, one I couldn’t and didn’t
want to fight. Looking deeply into my daughter’s eyes, praying with all my
heart that she would forgive her mother for being such a sick, wicked,
wanton, whore, I slipped my right hand inside the top of my dress,
underneath my bra, and then sliding my hand across my breasts I pushed it
down, forcing it underneath my breast so they could hang free, fully
exposed for Rainy to see. I saw her raise her eyebrows reacting to what I
had done and moving quickly, before she pulled away from Maddy and broke
their kiss, once my tits were free I reached down and grabbed my thong and
pulled it off to the side, wedging it in the crotch area between my thigh
and vagina, holding it there up and out of the way giving Rainy, presenting
to her an unobstructed view of what I was doing to myself.

My god I wanted my daughter to see what I was doing. I wanted to display my
sick lust to her and show her I was fingering my own pussy. I felt hot
tears streaming down the side of my face as I shifted my position to move
directly in front of my partially open bedroom door, stepping fully into
the light streaming into the hallway where Rainy would get a better view of
her depraved and disgusting mother. I knew as I stepped into the doorway
that I must have looked a sight to her. Remember I had been out that
evening on the prowl for a nice thick cock to ride so I was dressed for the
hunt. The outfit I had on was a black strapless zippered one piece thigh
length billow skirted cocktail dress. Underneath it I had worn one of my
sheerest strapless underwire nylon bras, my see through black nylon thong,
and a wide hip hugging black garter belt trimmed with little silk red
roses. My stockings I wore were sheer 100% non-stretch chocolate brown
colored nylons, with extra dark reinforced heels and toes, whose tops are
edged with a thin white nylon band. To finish everything off as well as
signal my intentions that night I had worn my classic 4 inch metallic
silver colored high heeled pumps, or what I always call my `fuck me’ shoes.

Once I was positioned in front of my partially open door I parted my legs
thrusting myself out towards Rainy. Opened mouthed and carried away with
lust, I inserted my middle finger into my pussy, fingering myself for her
to see. Although I was crying over what I was doing, hating myself for
being so sickeningly sinful, so brazenly depraved, so blatantly wicked,
watching Rainy Jo watching me masturbate, getting myself off to her and
Maddy, god those feelings of self-disgust and self-loathing I felt over
what I was doing made me want to scream in horror at my behavior. But yet
those ugly emotions were competing with even more powerful feelings of
sick, passionate lust and an unbelievable, all encompassing, sexual
excitement that gripped me and which demanded I act on them in the
disgusting manner I was doing.

What I was doing wrong. So very, very, wrong, but I couldn’t help myself as
I displayed my throbbing cunt to my little girl. I should have rushed into
my room and killed Maddy for what she was doing to my daughter. That
fucking cunt was sexually molesting her, forcing her to be her sick,
wanton, slutty, 12 year old child whore. The anger, outrage, and shock I
had possessed after unexpectedly discovering what was taking place in my
bedroom, what perverted things were be done to my little girl, should have
propelled me into action. I should have been screaming in rage and blinding
white hot fury over what my daughter was being forced to do. My darling
sweet little angel was being sexually abused by a beautiful mature woman
who I had trusted completely. I should have been attacking that cunt with
my bare hands, scratching out her eyes, kicking her with everything I had
right in the middle of her dirty, stinking, cum drenched pussy. I should
have felt like strangling her with my bare hands, wrapping my fingers
tightly around her throat while forcing her to the floor where I would
straddle her and squeeze the very life out of her. I should have felt that
way. I should have done those things that my minds-eye pictured me doing
but the pure, unbounded, joy my daughter had displayed as she took Maddy’s
cum shots into her mouth and on her face, the look of utter bliss she’d had
as she willingly, happily, accepted during their deep passionate kiss the
transfer of Maddy’s cum into her mouth; those things I’d seen her doing,
enjoying every last sick depraved second of their sex, they were so
visually stimulating, so sexually arousing, so beautifully astounding to
see that my body betrayed me.  Where anger should have been, I felt lust,
lust for my daughter and insatiable desire to display myself to her, to
show her how much I wanted to take her as Maddy had taken her. Instead of
rushing into my bedroom to protect her and end the disgusting things she
was being forced to do, I had stepped into the light, stepped into my
doorway and exposed myself to my little girl, giving her a full, clear,
view of me as I finger fucked my own pussy for her watch. God I wanted to
have her down between my own stocking clad legs, her mother’s legs, sucking
long and hard on her mother’s dripping wet pussy, tonguing me so deep that
each time she probed into me I would sob with pure pleasure. I wanted to
fuck my own daughter! I wanted to fuck my sweet little angel, my precious
baby girl, and have her fuck me as she fucked her auntie Maddy.

Catching Maddy and Rainy Jo having sex, watching my little daughter being
such a whore, a beautiful submissive pantyhosed little cunt, kneeling and
tightly bound at the wrists with a nylon stocking between Maddy’s gorgeous
stocking clad legs, was such extraordinarily and shockingly exciting
unexpected turn on for me. Never, ever, in my entire life had I been so
sexually aroused. Where mere seconds ago I imagined myself killing Maddy
with my bare hands, straddling her, chocking the life out of her. Now as I
displayed my debased arousal for my daughter to see, reveling in finger
fucking my own pussy as she watched, I pictured myself holding Maddy’s face
in my hands, kissing her on the mouth, probing her mouth with my hot
anxious tongue desperately trying to suck her own cum from her mouth and
take it into my own just like Rainy Jo was doing. Instead of saving my
daughter from what was happening in my bedroom, I wanted body and soul to
go in and join them, to share myself with my daughter and her. As I stood
there brazenly masturbating myself in the hallway, Rainy Jo pulled her back
from Maddy, breaking their kiss. “Auntie,” she said never taking her eyes
off of me. “My mommy’s at the door watching us.”

The revelation to Maddy that I was watching her sexually abuse my daughter
caused her to snap upright and scramble to her stocking feet, popping her
head around to look over her shoulder at me. “Joan!” she cried and I
watched in total silence as she tried to cover up her breasts with an arm,
and her cummy soaked pussy with a hand. A horrified expression was etched
on her face as she shot a quick glance down at Rainy Jo. What thoughts were
going through her mind I don’t know? But Maddy looked absolutely terrified
at me catching her fucking my baby girl.

“Cunt,” I spat at her as I continued to finger fuck my pussy. “You fucking
cunt! What are doing with my daughter!” Maddy didn’t utter a sound. “I
trusted you,” I cried. “I fucking trusted you to watch over my baby, and
this is how you treat her!” I heard the tremble in my voice as I felt my
pussy puff outward as I built to a climax. “I trusted you Maddy Allen. I
trusted you to take care of my baby. And what do you do? I come home and
find you forcing my precious little girl to service your nasty, dirty, old
cunt with her mouth.” I felt goose bumps shoot up my back and down my nylon
stocking legs as my words hit her with a physical force. She literally
recoiled backwards and forgetting her semi-nudity, she raised both of hands
to her open mouthed face grabbing her cheeks, attempting to speak but only
managing to stutter out a quivering, disjointed string of nonsensical
syllables.

“You fucking cunt,” I yelled. “You forced her didn’t you,” I accused. “You
forced my baby to service you like a whore. You made her dress in my
pantyhose like a wanton whore. You made her dress in her mother’s nylons
and bound her wrists with one of my stockings to make her submit to your
perverted lust! Don’t you dare try and deny it you filthy cunt! You made
her your bound whore and forced her to eat your filthy pussy, didn’t you,
you cunt!”

“You forced her.” I wanted to scream the words, intended to, but hearing
myself say what I had just said, looking on as Maddy stood in front of me
still straddling Rainy Jo, standing there in her red corset and nylon
stockings as drops of pussy juice fell out of her and down onto the
developing chest of my little girl. Lord imagining her forcing my little
girl to be her sex slave, making her dress up in my pantyhose, binding her
wrists with one of my stockings, and pushing her down to the floor so she
would have to suck on her pussy, all of that proved too much for
me. Sucking in a deep breath, feeling how swollen and taut my pussy was
underneath my hand, I experienced an unbelievably powerful exploding
orgasm. My first contraction was so strong I felt it push my finger back. I
was racked over and over again with spasms. My god I was experiencing what
all us girls desire most during sex, what Maddy herself had only just
gotten to do, I was in the throes of a massive multiple orgasm. Like Maddy
I was ejaculating.

“You forced her,” I whispered and I felt like I was suddenly floating in
air, like I was in a far off place. So powerful was my orgasm that I felt
like I was undergoing something akin to an out of body experience.

“Oh mommy!” I heard Rainy Jo call out to me but her voice seemed so far
away as my orgasm rocked me to very core of my being. A loud steady ringing
seemed to be bouncing between my ears and my throat constricted as I heard
myself grunting and groaning in sheer ecstasy. Through partially closed
eyes I watched totally detached from any sense of reality as my precious
little girl struggle to her feet. With her hands tied behind her back she
had to squirm out from underneath Maddy and then throw herself forward to
get upright onto her knees before standing up. Once on her feet she rushed
past Maddy stumbling awkwardly across the bedroom floor and before I could
do anything to stop her, never dreaming what she intended to do; my little
girl ran over to me and fell to her knees in front of me. Sweet Jesus I
nearly collapsed, I almost fell down as my little girl, my darling angel,
forcefully pushed her face up between my legs, pushing my hand aside and
out her way as she placed her hot, wet, mouth on my pussy.  “Aaahhhhhhhhh!”
My God! I felt like I was dreaming. I felt that this couldn’t possibly be
happening. It was, is, beyond belief what my daughter had done. No one, no
one, no mother, no daughter, no person in the world could have actually
done what my little girl just did as I stood there cumming into her sweet
hot mouth. This kind of fantastical thing exists only in the fantasies of
perverts who sit around all day dreaming up the most sick and depraved
sexual fantasies a person can come up with. What Rainy Jo did was so
utterly unbelievable, so fantastically unreal, that even though it actually
happened that way, I am still to this day hard press to accept that she did
what she did to me.  Down between my own stocking clad legs, grunting like
an animal, was my 12 year old daughter wearing a pair of my pantyhose with
her wrist bound behind her back with one of stockings, and god help me, her
hot tongue slipped right into my pussy and she cupped her lips tightly down
around my mound and sucked down hard on me as she desperately tried to eat
my hot cum. As Rainy sucked on my pussy I grabbed the back of her head and
pulled her into me, holding her tight on top of me. I was crying as I
emptied into Rainy’s mouth.

“Oh God Rainy,” I screamed. “Oh God suck me hard,” and I closed my eyes and
gave myself over to her. “Yes,” I screamed as I shot off in her
mouth. “Yes, baby! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

My little girl, my precious Rainy Jo has a mouth on her that you just can’t
believe is real. My daughter worked my pussy like it had never been worked
before, or since. God she can eat pussy. When she finally drained me, when
she finally sucked out every last delicious drop of my cum. I stumbled away
from her, sobbing, racked with shame and guilt over what I had done to my
baby, and I slumped up against the hallway wall. I was gasping for breath,
desperately sucking up draughts of air trying to get my wind back.

“What have I done,” over and over I repeated that phrase to myself as I
looked down at my daughter who remained kneeling down on the hallway floor
next to me. How long I stood there looking at her, wishing with all my
heart that none of this sick ugly mess I’d walked in on had never happened,
I’ll never know. I felt lost, emotionally drained and overcome with guilt
and remorse while I struggled to catch my breath, and regain my wind. I was
crying, tears were running down my cheeks, and I wanted to curl up and
die. The pleasure I took in having my own daughter suck out my pussy,
feeling her take her mother’s cum into her mouth and happily, willingly,
swallow it down. I wanted to die! Castigating myself, cursing my life,
Maddy came through the doorway and leaned down over Rainy. In a moment
she’d untied my daughter’s wrist and draped the stocking over her
shoulder. I heard her tell Rainy to help her get me into my bedroom and
numbly, too weak to resist, I allowed them to lead me into my bedroom.  Led
into my room I assumed they would take me over to my bed, however as the
three of us passed through the door Maddy pulled me towards the bottom of
my room, walking me over to the open floor space area between my bed,
dresser and vanity, where minutes before I’d first seen her straddling my
daughter. “Now honey,” Maddy spoke to me. “Now our little party is going to
continue.” With that said she turned me so I stood facing my far bedroom
wall. “You were never supposed to discover what Rainy and I do here in your
room Joan.” As she spoke to me she positioned herself directly in front of
me and I felt her place her hands on my hips. “Joan honey,” she said as she
dropped her hands down and slipped them under my skirt, “when you caught me
with Rainy I just wanted to die.” I stared at her, wishing I could react to
what she was doing to me, but as I felt Maddy slide the palms of hands up
and down my ass cheeks, felt her squeeze me, felt how my cheeks parted in
her hands, I just stood there. “I was so scared seeing you at the door
Joan,” she said, and she brought her hands out from under my dress and my
body began to respond to how she was touching me as she raised her hands
up, sliding them up along my sides until she reached the top of dress which
still rested underneath my naked breasts. A shiver of lust ran down my
spine and I trembled at the shoulders as I just let Maddy do what she
wanted to me. “You’re a beautiful woman Joan,” her voice was softer in
tone. “When you caught me with little Rainy,” she said as she slide her
fingers under my dress, “when I saw you at the door,” and I felt her give
my dress a tug, a pull downward, “Joan,” she whispered and pushed my dress
down until without any aid from her it simply fell away from me and came to
a pile around my ankles. “I love you,” she said and that’s when something
inside me just snapped. Hearing her proclaim her love for me, allowing this
woman whom I’d caught sexually abusing my daughter, dressing her in my
pantyhose, ripping out the front of them to expose her sex, tying her,
binding her like a whore with one of my stockings, forcing her to service
her between her legs, it was all too much.

I can’t explain, let alone try and describe the emotions I felt as Maddy,
since I still had it on, reached up and readjusted my sheer nylon bra,
lifting it back up over my breasts and fixing it so it wore correctly on
me. I can’t explain why I let her undress me, why I let her touch me, why I
behaved so docilely in front of her. Even now after all these years, after
recalling that night, reliving everything that happened, even now I can’t
explain my actions, my behavior and my feelings. But as my dear Maddy,
Mrs. Madeline `Maddy’ Allen, of 121 Prescott Lane, finished adjusting my
bra, I simply moved beyond any sense of caring, of feeling any concern,
towards the nightmare I had stumbled into coming home early that
evening. The nightmare of discovering, literally walking in and seeing my
daughter being sexually abused, a mother’s worst fear, I moved beyond my
nightmare, and it became, how I don’t know, but my nightmare became my
dream, my most cherished, most treasured, dream of my life.

“I want to bring you into our world Joan,” I heard Maddy say and then she
stepped into me, her arms encircling my torso, pulling me to her. We
kissed, kissed with open, hungry, mouths. My tongue responded to hers,
probing her back hard and urgently.

Behind me, where I couldn’t see, Rainy Jo had stood quietly by watching her
mother give in to her sick lust. As I kissed Maddy back she and I both
simultaneously reached down to cup one another’s naked asses in our
hands. While we ground our pussies and stocking tops up tight against the
other behind me my daughter came to me and I felt her place her little
hands along my hips, hooking her thumbs inside my thong.

“No, no,” I whispered. I knew Rainy was going to remove my thong. I knew
she wanted to pull it down, to let it fall to the floor along with my
dress. I wanted to stop it, stop her, stop what I was doing, but my arousal
at being the recipient of what I now know was the same sexual abuse Maddy
perpetrated on my little girl, what was being done to me was just too
overwhelming to resist. As I felt my thong fall Maddy reached up and cupped
my breast, squeezing it, squashing it, and kissing me hard and
deep. Whimpering returning her kiss, I felt Rainy Jo’s hands grasp my ass
cheeks, felt how tightly she pinched down as she forced them apart.

“Nooo!” I cried into Maddy’s mouth. “Rainy nooo!” But my little girl paid
no attention to my call to stop. Behind me, once again down on her knees,
my sweet Rainy spread my ass cheeks apart and hearing Maddy moan in
pleasure in my mouth as she realized what Rainy was doing, I sobbed in
shame, humiliation, and embarrassment, as I shifted my feet farther apart,
parting my legs, opening myself up to my daughter, giving her access to
me. I felt Rainy force her hot, wet, wicked, tongue up into my asshole,
spearing into me, sticking me with her tongue as far as she could. Oh god
in heaven, please forgive me for my wickedness, for the depravity I allowed
to occur between my daughter and I because the sensation which hit me as
Rainy tongued me in the ass, the knowledge that this was my baby girl doing
this to me, oh fuck, oh Christ, of Jesus fucking Christ, it felt so good.

“Yes baby,” Maddy said as she broke our kiss and pulled back to stare me in
the eyes. “Our little whore can really play a girl out with that mouth of
hers,” she chuckled. “Oh honey you look like you’re loving every little
inch she’s giving you,” and I knew what she said was true. I was. While I
stood there, swept away by the sheer pleasure of being tongued fucked in
the ass by my own daughter, feeling Maddy’s hands on my body, I experienced
as sexual joy I’d never felt before because while my daughter tongued my
asshole, driving up into me, using her tongue like a man uses his cock,
Maddy put her arms around my shoulders and pressed herself tightly against
me, hugging me, holding me and whispering the most wicked, the most
humiliating, the most hurtful things into my ear.

“I’m not done yet Joan,” she said. “I’m not done with your daughter Joan.”
I heard the words, and caught my breath, waiting in anticipation of what
she would say next. “I’ve been molesting you daughter for months now,” she
breathed hotly to me. “Just think of it honey. While you’ve been out,
tricking yourself out to any swinging cock and balls you could hook up with
in a bar. I’ve been here in your home Joan, in your house, in your bedroom,
in your bed, and I’ve been fucking your little girl, little Rainy Jo. I’ve
been making her into my little cunt whore while you’ve been out tramping
around for a thick fat cock to suck and fuck.” That last was said with
urgency and intensity.

“For months she’s been my bitch, my sweet little cunt eating bitch.” While
I grunted out my pleasure from Rainy’s tonguing, I reached down between us
and placed my hand on her mound. God she was wet. Already lubricated I
didn’t need to stimulate her in the least and I just inserted my middle
finger into her, stabbing into her as my daughter was stabbing into me.

“Oh Joan,” Maddy moaned. “Do you want to hear how I forced Rainy to be my
little pussy bitch? Do you want to know how when you left her with me, how
after dressing yourself up in nylons and heels, how I brought her to your
bedroom and made her put on your naughty things and then forced her to fuck
me?” Maddy words whispered in my face were turning me on. God I wanted her
to talk dirty to me. To tell me how she’d molested my little girl. I wanted
to hear her describe it all to me and take pleasure in hearing it.

“I want you to know everything I’ve done to Rainy Jo, Joan,” she said. I
kissed her on the mouth again and grunted softly as I felt her insert a
finger into me, felt her push it into me and I caught my breath as her
finger and Rainy’s hot tongue began to work on me in rhythm. Oh fuck being
penetrated in front and back at the same time was absolutely
amazing. Repeatedly, over and over, I panted with pleasure as the two of
them worked me over.

“I know how nasty you are,” Maddy whispered. Softly she kissed my lips,
pecking me, talking to me between each little kiss. “I know how slutty you
like to be Joan. I’ve known for years because I found your pictures, your
dirty, nasty, sex pictures of yourself.” Behind me I heard my daughter moan
and I reached around behind me and grabbed her by the head. Maddy felt and
saw me do this. “Yes, that’s it Joan. Pull your slutty little daughter into
your ass. Pull her into you. Make her split your ass cheeks apart. Force
that little bitch to tongue you out like you want it. Force her in there
Joan. Pull that cunt into your ass and make her tongue like you want.”
Maddy’s commands, her sick directions, god I listened her and did just as
she ordered. I pulled hard on my little girl’s head, pulled her directly
into my ass while I pushed back into her.

“Tell her you want it you sick cunt,” Maddy said. “Tell her!” And I did.

“Tongue me,” at first my voice was soft; I’d spoken in little more than a
whisper.

“Louder,” Maddy ordered.

“Tongue me,” I repeated. “Tongue fuck me in the ass Rainy. Of fuck! Do it
baby. Do it to mommy. Do it baby, do it good.” That time I wasn’t asking
for it. No. I had demanded it. I had spoken in my mother’s voice, using a
harder tone, one which I used whenever I needed little Rainy Jo to mind her
manners and do without question or hesitation what I needed done. I’d just
spoken to my baby as I would have had I been telling her to get busy
cleaning up her room, pick up her clothes, or finish her homework. Hearing
me speak that way behind me my little girl responded and I felt her drive
her tongue into my ass hard and deep. Like a pile driver her tongue probed
into my asshole and as she fucked me in my ass her hands fell to my legs
and Rainy began stroking my stocking legs up and down.  “Oh yes!” I
cried. “Rainy Jo! Oh Rainy Jo touch mommy’s legs. Feel her stockings
baby. Feel my nylons Rainy. Oh fuck I love that honey. I love it. Touch
mommy’s nylons Rainy. Touch them!”

“You’re a sick bitch Joan,” Maddy said and she removed her finger from my
pussy and took a step back away from me. “Take it all,” she ordered. “Let
that little whore do you honey. Let her tongue fuck her mommy in the ass,”
and she laughed. “Oh Joan you wanton cunt. You’re such a whore, such a
divine filthy whore.”  “Guess what honey,” Maddy’s voice seemed distant as
she spoke. My daughter was tonguing me so exquisitely deep, so forcefully,
that I felt myself building towards another orgasm. How she rubbed her
little hands along my legs, god my stockings were shooting bolts of
electricity up my legs and directly into my pulsating, swollen, pussy. I’ve
never been tongued in the ass before that night. Oh I’ve had anal sex a
time or two, especially with my former husbands, but there is a difference
between getting a long, thick cock pushed into your asshole and a
delightfully, soft, wet, probing tongue, especially if that tongue is
attached to your own pantyhose wearing little daughter. My little Rainy Jo
was eating my ass out so enthusiastically, giving herself over so
completely to pleasuring and servicing her mother back there and feeling up
my legs the way I love to have them fondled when I’m wearing my stockings
and having sex, that I leaned forward and resting my hands on my knees I
stood as still as I could hold myself and just grunted, moaned, and
whimpered in sheer bliss.

While I breathed in and out with my mouth open, moaning in sheer pleasure
Maddy started talking to me again. “Smile honey,” she said. “Look over your
shoulder and smile Joan. Look over your shoulder towards your
window. You’re standing here with your own daughter’s tongue up your ass,
taking her like a whore, like the whore you are and you’re being taped
honey. I’m getting you on tape, recording you fucking your baby girl.” I
did as she said and I looked over my shoulder and there in front of the
curtained window next to the head of my bed I saw for the first time that
my video camcorder was set up on its tripod. “I record everything I do to
your daughter,” Maddy said to me. “I record us together every time we come
to your room to fuck. And now honey, I’m recording you.”

Seeing my video camera, catching sight of the little red light on front of
the housing glowing brightly, letting me know that it was on and recording
everything it captured in its viewfinder, realizing that I was being
filmed; that did it for me. “Oh, oh, oh, oh,” I grunted and feeling so
excited, so horny, so hot, so aroused, so fucking nasty, I looked directly
into the lens of my camera and I came. God I exploded down between my legs
and came so hard that I felt like fainting. Oh Jesus did I ever feel so
good as I spurted out cum between my legs. I heard my daughter giggle and
moan as she felt me shiver and clench up as I gasped out loud and
screamed. “Oh yes! Yes!”

Knowing my video camera was recording me I turned my face completely
towards it. I wanted my face to be captured on film, I wanted to have my
expression captured and recorded so I could watch myself and see how I
looked as I came for the camera, came for Maddy, and came for my little
girl.

“Oh that’s it honey, that’s it. Squeeze out every sweet little drop. Push
it out Joan. Grunt like a bitch and push out your juice out Joan. Grunt
like a bitch Joan. Grunt honey. Grunt out loud,” and I did just as Maddy
asked and I smiled.

Rocked by my orgasm I zoned out. How long I don’t know. Well actually I do
because I’ve watched that sex tape of Maddy, Rainy Jo, and I, more times
then I can count since that night. After cumming hard and loving every
wicked moment of it the tape shows me straightening up and turning to face
and embrace my daughter whom I pulled up to her nylon clad feet. I pull
Rainy into me and bending my head down put my arms around my daughter, she
throws hers around me and we kiss each other full on the mouth, heatedly
pushing our tongues into one another, kissing each other passionately. I
remember the taste of her mouth, and the smell of my own ass on her. My
backdoor scent on her little mouth and chin filled my nose. I could taste
myself in her mouth and I sighed in contentment as I kissed her harder. My
daughter had eaten my ass, sexually servicing her mother in a simply
disgusting manner. But I loved it. As I kiss her I hook my stocking right
leg around her and she hooks her right leg around me. Locked in our embrace
we stand there kissing and touching one another as the camera records our
actions. You see me reach down and grab my daughter’s tight little ass. You
hear me moan and Rainy whimper as I squeeze her ass cheeks tightly in my
hands and then slide my palms across them, splaying out my fingers and
moaning as I fondle her, loving how soft, how sensuous my pantyhose feel
against my hands.

Behind us you see Maddy step over to my dresser. She pulls my top drawer
open and takes out one of my dildos. Shockingly, for me because I’ve never
owned one, she also pulls out a strap on dildo. The flexible jelly-rubber
cock fixed to the leather harness is black. The harness fits around a
girl’s waist, runs between your legs, splits into two smaller thin straps,
and these hook into the back of the waist band just above your ass in the
small of your back. Two other leather straps, thin little belts actually,
are fixed so they go around each of your thighs. The way the harness is
designed ensures the dildo which is affixed to a triangular leather plate
which covers the pussy doesn’t slip or allow the cock piece to pull out
away from your body. Maddy then pulls out my vanity chair and faces it
towards the camera. On the tape you hear her ordering me to bring little
Rainy Jo to the chair, which I do. She tells me to stay off to one side so
you can see my daughter present herself to the camera, so my camcorder can
record every single inch of her little pantyhose wearing body. You hear
Maddy order little Rainy to sit down on the chair, lean back, and lift and
spread her legs.

Holding a sex toy in each hand Maddy orders me to remove my shoes. “I want
to see your stocking feet,” she says and I do as she commands. “Oh,” she
mutters as she’s captured on the tape looking down at my stocking
feet. “Reinforced heels and toes. Oh honey I love reinforced heel and toe
nylons. There so pretty, so sexy, so lovely.” Her voice trails off for a
moment and while I stand in place you see Maddy kneel down in front of me
and careful to get her face in full view of the camera lens, looking back
into the camera to ensure she was being recorded, Maddy begins to kiss my
stocking feet, brushing her lips across the top of my toes and over my
arches. While she does this she makes these sweet little noises in her
throat and unbidden I raise my right foot up off the floor, pointing my
toes downward, and trying hard to keep my balance and not sway in place,
you see Maddy grasp my foot in both her hands as she licks my nylon with
the tip of her tongue. “You’re so pretty honey,” she mumbles. “You’re feet
are so pretty in your stockings, so pretty.” Maddy is shown kissing,
licking, and touching my foot for only a short time but long enough for her
to open her mouth and wrap her lips around my toes. She doesn’t suck on
them, there isn’t any pressure applied by her mouth. Instead she just
presses her lips down on my toes and making sure not to wet my
stocking. When she finishes kissing my nylon clad foot Maddy rises back to
her feet and then looks me right in the eye.

“Get on your knees cunt. Get down in front of your little girl and mouth
fuck that delicious little pussy of hers. Do it,” she orders with hands on
her hips, and obediently I do so. While I kneel down in front of Rainy Jo I
glance up to look at her and I see my daughter tip her head back, close her
eyes, and listen to her as she begins to beg me to suck on her hot little
12 year old pussy.

“Please mommy,” she cries. “Oh mommy, please eat me. Lick my little pussy
and make it feel good like auntie Maddy does. Tongue it like auntie does.”
You can’t see it because my back is to the camera but I’m smiling as I hear
my little girl talk like a whore to me. I reach out with my hands and I
grab each of her little feet and put them together, side by side, and then
I pull them towards my face and you hear me moan as I breathe in the smell
of my pantyhose she is wearing. Captivated by the scent of the sheer
material I press the soles of Rainy’s pretty little feet tightly against my
face. While I’m trailing the tip of tongue across the balls of her feet,
along the inside of her arches, you see Maddy disappear from the camera
view and then the picture shakes, bounces, and wanders across the room as
she picked up the camera and brought it over and reset off to the side of
Rainy and I and zoomed out to make sure the whole of our bodies are
centered in the middle of the viewfinder.

I can hear the lens whirr as Maddy zooms in to record the first time I
place my wicked mouth on my daughter’s nearly hairless Venus mound. Oh god
Rainy’s taste is electrifying. I moan and groan deep inside my throat as I
lick my baby between her pussy lips, sliding my tongue up and down her
moist heated channel, pressing into her, hearing her gasp and whimper as I
gently, softly, lovingly, suck just so on her. I’m holding her legs up as I
swirl my tongue around her opening and I feel her muscles in nylon clad
thighs begin to quiver. Looking up from between her young legs I see her
mouth is parted and I gaze spellbound as the sight of her nylon clad feet
and I just want to kiss them. I want to lick the soles of her feet and
taste the material of my hose she is wearing. I want to touch her like I
desire to be touched in my nylons. I want to give my baby the feelings I
get when I feel a hand, lips, and naked skin sliding across my stockings
sending goose bumps up all over my body. I feel my own pussy swell between
my legs as I think about how this moment is being captured on film and when
I stab my tongue into Rainy, curling it to make it stiff and ridged, she
jerks and she cries out. “Yes mommy! Yes! Oh mommy, oh mommy, oh mommy it
feels good. It feels good mommy. Your making my little pussy cry,” she
calls out and I first taste, then begin to greedily suck up her flowing
pussy juices, swallowing my babies flow, feeling my lips and chin grow
slick with her.

Little prepubescent girls and that was Rainy at age 12. Young little
prepubescent girls don’t really achieve sexual orgasm like big girls and
women do. No they don’t. If you haven’t passed through puberty your body
simply isn’t capable of having an orgasm like an adult. Oh little boys and
girls can cum if you stimulate them, but it doesn’t happen like it does in
an adult. Instead little ones just secrete fluid, they leak it out and when
they do achieve orgasm their cum isn’t thick or heavy like an adults. It’s
thinner, runnier, and clearer in appearance. Actually I say it’s similar to
pre-cum produce by adults rather than cum. But it’s still hot, it’s still
slick, and it’s still deliciously wonderful to take into your mouth and
swallow down. And that’s precisely what my daughter was doing; she was
cumming into my mouth as I sucked on her, tonguing her deep inside her
sweet little pussy. She began crying out, and I felt her grab the back of
my head with both hands, pulling me into her as she spilled into my willing
mouth. She was snapping her knees in and out, waving her pretty nylon clad
feet up and down as she flexed and thrust her pelvis forward. As I happily
took my daughter’s flow I felt Maddy position herself behind me, getting
between my legs. Feeling her brush my stocking legs with her finger tips I
spread my knees farther apart signaling my willingness to be penetrated, to
get fucked by her. I was anticipating her inserting my dildo into me, cock
fucking me with it as I sucked out my daughter. But instead of that, aching
for it, wanting it, praying she would toy fuck me, I felt her cinch her
strap-on around my waist. By the time she’d fastened it on me Rainy was
little more than quivering flesh, beautifully pantyhose clad quivering
flesh on my vanity chair.

“You got nigger John on honey,” Maddy said as she rubbed her pussy up tight
against my ass. “Me and nigger John are old friends Joan. My husband bought
him for me so I could fuck him up the ass like a bitch.” I groaned
lustfully as she leaned down on my back and reached around to massage my
tits. “I brought him over with me because tonight I was going to finally
fuck your little girl. I was going to fuck Rainy with him. I haven’t fucked
your daughter yet Joan. She’s still a virgin. I haven’t fucked her because
I knew you would find out she’s had a cock in her. So I restrained myself
until tonight. I was going to mount her like a field hand, like a bull
nigger Joan from behind. I was going to mount your baby and slam nigger
John into her until she screamed. But now I’m not going to do that
Joan. Now instead of me breaking her it’s going to be you,” and Maddy
shifted slightly and I cried out in pain, caught off guard and surprised as
she jammed my dildo up into my ass, driving it in deep, pushing in hard
with no care if she hurt me or not.

Oh it hurt. I felt like I was being split apart. I hadn’t been aware of
what she’d been doing as I serviced my daughter and made her cum in my
mouth. As Maddy began to rape my ass with my own dildo I clamped down hard
on Rainy Jo’s pulsating pussy and I pushed, thrust back into Maddy, arching
my back as I accepted every last inch my dildo had.

“Whore!” Maddy cried. “You disgusting fucking whore. Take it cunt! Take it
up your ass! Take it all the way!” I did and I liked it.

Holding my dildo deep inside my ass Maddy used her free hand to grab the
back of my head; balling my hair up in her fist she forced my head back.
“Baby, oh my baby,” she cried and I reached up and grabbed Rainy’s feet and
pulled them down to my face. Pressing her soles tightly into my face I
sniffed the nylon material, drinking in the smell of my nylons she wore
while Maddy continued to hammer my dildo into my ass. Push, pull, push,
pull, push; “beg for it bitch! Beg for it Joan. Tell me how good it hurts.”
“Oh Maddy,” I cry. “It hurts Maddy. It hurts so good!” You can hear me
growing louder and more strident in my cries on the tape. You see Maddy
driving my dildo in my ass giving me all I can take. God she was brutal
with it in my ass. Twice she removed it from me, taking it all the way out
and then stabbing me hard and deep with it. When she does this I cry out in
pain and joy. In front of me my daughter is watching her mother squeal, cry
out, and gasp in pleasure and pain. You see her listening as I beg Maddy to
ass fuck me, and then thank her for treating me so rough. I’m crying,
shedding tears, as Maddy finally stops, finally stays her hand and leaves
my dildo stuck up my ass as she draws back and orders me to get up off my
knees and sit down on my vanity chair. “Move your honey of an ass Rainy so
your mommy can sit on the chair,” you can see Rainy instantly comply with
her words. “Go to the dresser and get my rope sweetie. Get it for auntie so
we can tie your mommies stocking legs together before she fucks you.”

It’s all there on the tape, all of it. I’ve watched it time and again,
drinking in the images showing my little girl rise up and go to the dresser
where she retrieves a long thick white nylon rope. You can see me perched
on the edge of my vanity chair, my legs together and stretched out in front
of me, watching Rainy offer it to Maddy but she refuses it, and insists
upon Rainy herself binding my ankles together. With an expertise that
surprises me my daughter quickly kneels down and in seconds she ties my
ankles securely together. Then as she returns to her feet Maddy orders her
to climb up into my lap.

“Now baby get on your mommy. Climb up onto her lap and get your little hot
cunt over nigger John. Put the tip of it on your little girl pussy
honey. Get over it baby. That’s it sweetie, straddle your whore of a mommy
and get ready to become a woman,” and Rainy obeys her.

Since the camera is in front of us the image it shows is Rainy Jo
straddling me. First she just got onto my lap then because she needed to
get up over nigger John you can see her placing her pretty little feet on
the support rungs between the chair legs. She grabs me by the shoulders and
raises herself up over the toy cock and holds herself in that position
waiting to be told what she must do next. On the tape at this point what
always draws my gaze is just how luscious her round little ass looks, how
defined its shape is as a result of wearing my pantyhose. Every time I
watch our tape I can’t help myself when I look at my daughter’s pert tight
little pantyhose covered ass hovering over the strap-on I’m wearing and I
always run the tip of my tongue across my lips wishing I could lick each of
her firm round cheeks. Between her legs you can see my stocking legs
stretched out in front of me, my bound ankles easily discernable as is
nigger John. The toy cock is sticking up in the air like a real man’s cock
would be had I been a man. And every time I move or shift position which I
must because I’m desperately trying to keep my dildo from sliding out of my
ass, you can see nigger John sway between my daughter’s legs. It’s that
movement the toy makes that pulls your gaze downward. Since I’ve always
been into bondage I love seeing myself ankle tied as I was and the white
rope looks fantastic wound around my stocking clad ankles. While my
daughter pauses in the air holding herself up over nigger John you can
listen as Maddy orders me to grasp Rainy around the waist. “Hold her tight
you whore of a mother. Hold her tight Joan. I want you to grab her and pull
her down onto nigger John. I want you to fuck your daughter with that black
cock. Fuck her with nigger John and pop her cherry Joan. Deflower your baby
Joan. Break her baby, break her.”

“Maddy no,” is what you hear me say on the tape. “Don’t make me do this
Maddy. Don’t make me do this.” Even as you listen to me begging Maddy to
stop what is about to happen. You can see me grab Rainy Jo around the
waist, putting my hands on her hips, and hear me gasp as I feel how soft my
pantyhose she’s wearing are. Between her legs you can watch me stretch my
stocking legs out, and if you look closely you’ll see me wiggle my ass ever
so slightly as I adjust my position on my chair so my dildo stays firmly
planted in my ass. Yet what you don’t see are the tears I’m shedding as I
look lovingly up into my daughter’s eyes.

Since Maddy is talking louder than I am on the tape you hear her ordering
me to fuck my own daughter. Oh she says the most horrendous things to me,
to us. You hear her using racial slurs on Rainy and I. You hear her talk
dreadfully bad about me using nigger John, a black nigger cock to deflower
my baby girl. And worse you hear me catch my breath, see me sexually touch
my precious innocent child, and then you see me pull Rainy down, forcing
her down onto nigger John.

My babies face is beautiful to me. I watch her closely as I grip her by the
waist and exert pressure on her hips, pushing her down onto the strap on
dildo, onto nigger John. As the head of the long black rubber cock presses
against her tiny, tight pussy, I’m the only one who can see the grimace of
pain she has on her face as the head of that black dildo begins to part her
opening. Nigger John is a full size replica of real cock, an adult
cock. Rainy is only 12 years old. She’s just a little girl and her tiny
little hole is tight. Oh she’s so tight and small.

“Owww,” she whimpers as the head of nigger John enters her. “Owww, owww,
owww,” and my baby begins to weep and cry as I keep pushing her down. Since
the cock is jelly-rubber it’s flexible, bendable, a quick glance down
allows me to see it bending between Rainy’s legs. To prevent the thing from
popping out of my daughter I reach down between us and grab it, holding it
ridged and steady while still forcing Rainy to sink down onto it and take
it all way into her.

“Owww, owww!” Rainy’s crying then. She’s really crying. I can feel her
little hands digging into my shoulders as I keep pushing her down onto the
toy cock. “It hurts mommy,” she tells me. “Owww, mommy it hurts.” Oh god,
the farther in it goes the more she sobs. Her little face is just scrunched
up in pain as she sinks downward taking more and more of nigger John into
her. Rainy is really crying as I feel her little pussy touch the top of my
hand. Oh my poor baby is crying hard by then, hearing her cry, seeing it,
oh god it breaks my heart but I don’t stop. I’m watching her face as I let
go of the dildo. Poor Rainy, her tears are huge. On the tape you can hear
her crying, sobbing in pain, and you see that fucking cunt Maddy step into
the shot. She gets behind Rainy and grabs her around the waist, placing her
hands on top of my own.  “Fuck your baby,” she says. “Do it Joan. Push this
little cunt down onto that nigger cock and make her take it all!” I’m
crying too but you can’t see my face on the tape.

While Maddy and I force Rainy to sink down onto nigger John I’m whispering
to Rainy telling her it will be okay, that it’s only going to hurt for a
short time. “It will start to feel good Rainy. It will start to feel
good. I know it hurts baby. I know it hurts right now but it will start to
feel good in just a little while. I promise Rainy. Mommy promises you it’s
going to feel good in just a little while. Please baby, don’t cry. Don’t
cry baby girl. Mommy doesn’t want you to cry honey. It will hurt for just a
little while and then you’ll start to like it. I promise you baby
girl. Mommy promises it will start to feel good. Hush honey. Don’t
cry. Don’t cry baby. Trust mommy Rainy Jo. Trust mommy. It’ll feel better
soon and you’ll like it honey. You’ll like it a whole lot. Honest you will
baby. You will. Just wait Rainy. Just wait and soon it’ll feel good. I
promise you baby. Mommy promises.” Those are the words you hear me speaking
to my little Rainy Jo as I and Maddy make her take nigger John until she
buries that toy cock to the hilt in her little girl pussy. Then Rainy, who
is just wailing, then after she’s taken that cock to the hilt Maddy and I
force my daughter to fuck it like a woman, to ride it up and down.

Oh sweet Jesus did Rainy throw herself into fucking that cock. Her sobs
turned to gasps of pleasure as her tiny little pussy stretched out to
accommodate that toy cock. Soon she wasn’t crying out in pain, she was
crying out in pleasure. While my daughter fucked herself on that cock, I
leaned back on my chair and held her by the waist, supporting her, helping
her balance herself. Rainy quickly got to the point where she would lift
herself up, raising up until the head of nigger John was nearly out of her
little pussy, and then she would drop down, grunting and moaning as she
slipped down on the toy and drove it deeply into her, taking it all the way
in until she couldn’t get any more in her. Oh my baby is a marvel to watch
on our tape. She’s so enthusiastic fucking that strap-on I’m wearing.

As the tape plays you can watch Maddy step away from Rainy and I and kneel
down on the floor by the stocking feet. While my daughter rides nigger John
I like to switch between watching her fuck that strap-on and watch Maddy as
she kisses, licks, and touches my stocking feet. Oh that Donna Reed looking
bitch touched and fondled my stocking feet so softly, so lovingly, that
between her and my daughter Rainy I felt myself building towards another
hot orgasm. What finally got me off was when you can see Maddy moving to
straddle my feet and rub her pussy softly up against my stockings while she
reaches up around my thighs and grabs my dildo which is still firmly
planted in my ass. As she slides her pussy along the top of my stocking
feet she’s also fucking my ass with my dildo and kissing Rainy Jo’s. Oh I
exploded so wonderfully between my legs as I leaned over to peer around
Rainy and watch Maddy kiss and lick her pantyhose covered ass. I came so
hard I nearly pushed my dildo out, and I would have if Maddy hadn’t been
firmly holding on to it.

Although the sex tape showing me sexually abuse my own daughter, capturing
me sucking her pussy, eating her little girl orgasm, fucking her with a
strap-on dildo named nigger John. Although all those things are recorded on
tape I’ve always considered the most disgusting and disturbing part of the
tape, the one guaranteeing I’m going to hell where I’ll burn for eternity,
is the scene showing Maddy and I licking off nigger John, cleaning Rainy’s
fluids and vaginal blood off of it with our tongues and mouths. Yes
sickening isn’t it. But you can see us after finishing with my daughter
ordering her to lie down on the floor in front of my video camera. You can
watch as Maddy unbuckles the strap-on, takes it off me and places it down
on top of my little girl’s pussy. Then both of us kneel down on either side
of her and we start at the hilt of the dildo, licking our way up the shaft
until we kiss each other full on the mouth. Then together we lick and suck
the toy until it’s absolutely spotless.

After that the tape shows Rainy wearing nigger John and she and I are
finally on my bed. I’m down on my hands and knees and Rainy is behind me
just fucking the shit out of me. God nigger John is a fantastic toy cock. I
get off so quickly being fucked my little girl. The last image you see on
the tape is me looking over my shoulder, staring up at my daughter and
thanking her from the bottom of my heart for being so well fucked. Then the
tape runs out. Believe it or not my sex tape is only just an hour
long. When it first plays you see Maddy and Rainy on it. It takes about
fifteen minutes before you see them reacting to me catching them fucking
each other in my bedroom. After that it’s the three of us.

The remainder of my night with my daughter consisted of all three of us
just wearing ourselves out having all kinds of kinky sex. But I also want
to tell you about the pictures we made as well. You see just before the
tape ran out and while Rainy was fucking me from behind. Maddy brought out
her still camera and she began taking pictures of Rainy and I. It was after
Rainy finished fucking me from behind on my bed that Maddy made us get up
and do some real naughty posing for her throughout my bedroom, on the
floor, on my bed, anywhere she directed us to go we went. She took pictures
of Rainy tying me up and then sucking me, touching me, fingering me, just
doing whatever she wanted her to do to me. Rainy even spanked me, using a
wide waist belt from one of my work outfits on my naked ass which I wave at
the camera. But it wasn’t just me being tied up and photographed. No, I
tied up my daughter and Maddy took pictures of her bound and abused as
well. Oh how I loved being photographed doing those wicked things with
Rainy Jo. But I have to admit that Maddy and I got our pictures taken
together too. Like me Maddy likes having her picture taken during sex so
she ordered Rainy to switch places with her and had her take pictures of
her and I together. Most of the photographs showing Maddy and I are bondage
shots showing us tied up together, struggling against our bonds, looking up
into the camera and pretending to be frightened and terrified. Several
times you see us showing our stocking clad legs tied tightly to each other,
back to back, and because the camera had a timer on it, Rainy is in a lot
of shots and she’s shown rubbing her pantyhose clad feet over our bodies,
on our stocking clad legs, across our breasts, or across our faces. I loved
every moment of those shots and feeling my daughter’s nylon clad feet on
me.

Although there aren’t many of them, why I don’t know, Maddy did order Rainy
to take some pictures of her and I lying tied up tightly together with each
of us wearing a pair of my pantyhose pulled down over our heads and
faces. Oh god I loved having to do that. At one point while we were untied
Rainy brought out two more pairs of my pantyhose and my little girl order
Maddy and I to literally cut out the crotches and put them on our bodies
like you wear shirts. Oh lord it was deliciously sinful to be encased in my
nylons like that.

How long did we fuck in my bedroom? It seemed like hours went by because I
was having such fun. But honestly by the time all three of us collapsed
upon my bed and laid there holding each other and drifting off to sleep it
was only around 11:45. Just over an hour and half had passed by since I
caught Maddy molesting my daughter. We slept the rest of the night there on
my bed, the three of us in our nylons.

In the morning when we got up things were awkward between all of us. Maddy
left the house very quickly and Rainy and I were both silent with each for
most of the day. I called in sick and didn’t go into work and I called
Rainy’s school and told them she wouldn’t be in that day due to illness. I
spent my day regretting what I’d done the night before and I cried off and
on all day long. I wanted to talk to Rainy Jo, I wanted to say things to
her but she stayed in room most of the day. It wasn’t until that evening
when Maddy just walked into my house and she and I had a long, emotional,
talk with other in my living room that I started to feel better. We spoke
about what she’d done to my little girl, what I had done, and what Rainy
did to us. We talked and talked and I listened in silence as Maddy told me
when and how she’d started sexually molesting Rainy Jo. I listened quietly
as she described to me how she’d gotten Rainy to dress up in my nylons for
her, tricking my little girl into believing that they were going to play a
dress up game and that auntie Maddy was going to teach her how to put on
real stockings like a woman should put them on. Then as she continued to
tell me how she got my daughter to finally engage in sex games with her she
reached down and lifted up the cardboard box she’d brought over with
her. Inside the box were three large photo albums, and each album was
filled with black and white and colored pictures showing my Rainy forced
into being Maddy’s sexual plaything.

As I looked at the first two albums Maddy slide up next to me on my couch
and I stared at the pictures in them while Maddy talked. The photos were
arranged in order and they chronicled Maddy’s molestation of Rainy Jo. The
last album held all the pictures we’d taken the night before and god help
me, as I looked at those photos I grew aroused by them and I turned to
Maddy and failing to fight my urges, I kissed her.

We made out on my couch for short time and then we went up stairs and after
each of us dressed ourselves in my nylon stockings, we went over to my bed
and the two of us had sex with each other. That night it was just her and I
in my bedroom and we fucked each other for a very long time. After that
Maddy and I became lesbian lovers, and for the next four months her and I
had sex with other, lovely passionate nylon stocking sex in my bed at least
once a week. And at least once a week when we were together I would go and
get my daughter Rainy Jo and bring her into my bedroom, order her to put on
a pair of my hose, and Maddy and I would use her as a sex toy. But Rainy Jo
was a very willing sex toy. During that 4 month period two more photo
albums of sex pictures were completed and things might have continued to go
on like that between us if Maddy hadn’t suddenly gotten sick. The aneurism
in her head had begun to form in 1998 and by January of 1999 it had grown
to the point where it caused her such pain that the pain killers she had to
take began to turn her into a walking vegetable.

Yes I’m a sick, depraved, terrible mother for what I did that hump-day back
in 1998. But honestly I wouldn’t change a single moment of that night. What
was the worst day in my life is also the best day in my life. I do hate
myself at times for what I did to my little innocent girl. After all I’m
the one who popped her little cherry, and I continued to sexually molest
her for another 4 months. When I’m lonely and depressed I do contemplate
suicide remembering that night and terrible things I did then and
afterwards. Yet I also cherish those memories of it, view the video tape of
it, and stare at the pictures we took of it, so many times that over the
years I’ve come to the conclusion that what happened, that becoming my
daughter’s nylon fuck whore, that all of that magical night was my
destiny. It’s 2008 and although Rainy and I don’t have sex with each other
anymore, I’m still my daughter’s whore. All she ever has to do is ask for
it, and honey I’ll put my nylon stockings on and spread my legs for her in
an instant.

I miss her and Maddy. I miss them both terribly. Like I mentioned earlier
Maddy died in 2003 from a brain aneurism, and Rainy Jo, my sweet little
baby girl, she’s gone now too. In 2004 after graduating from High School
Rainy went off to college in Minnesota. We write and telephone each other
all the time but this old house of mine is so empty feeling with her
gone. I still work at the Sioux San, and I still go out with my girlfriends
for a night on the town when the mood strikes. But in 07 I met a new girl
friend, her name is Sarah and she and I are currently in a deliciously
sexual lesbian relationship. Sarah and I share the same interests and share
a love for wearing nylon stocking, pantyhose, sexy lingerie, and taking
naughty pictures of ourselves during sex. We met here in Rapid and although
I consider her my lover, she’s avoiding me now because recently, just a
week ago while her and I were here at my home, yes I bring my sex partners
home now, now that Rainy Jo’s gone, I got crazy when she and I were having
sex and I told her everything about that night in 1998 when I caught Maddy
and Rainy Jo having sex in my bedroom, and I showed her the sex tape of me
having sex with my own daughter back when she was only 12 years old. I’ll
write about that night next if anyone writes in and requests me too. Thanks
for reading my story and letting me share with all of you.

January-20-10

My Girlfriend And An Escort

Posted by admin under Girlfriends Erotic Stories

Here’s the rest of my account of my experiences with Xiomara.  I’ve inserted

into the original text file that includes my first e-mail to you, but I can’t

get the margins for the new part to line up with what was already there.  I’ve

never worked much with TXT.  Please let me know if this works or if you need me

to send it to you some other format (RTF?) or directly as a (very long) e-mail.

This is the final complete version and I have double-checked to make sure I

changed the names of all the people and some of the locations to preserve

anonymity.  So I think you can now safely post it.

Finding the rest of those old e-mails was a real blessing as otherwise there is

no way I would have been able to remember so many details on my own.  As a

result though, it has gotten really long.  I hope that’s not a problem.

Please note that these e-mails were mostly written in Spanglish, so I have

translated quite a bit.  Where I left in words in Spanish, I’ve added the

English translation in parenthesis.  I have also inserted a few explanatory

notes in the middle of some of these old e-mails.  These are clearly marked NOTE

and were not part of the original e-mail.

I’ve clearly taken considerable literary license in recreating the other

incidents I describe outside of the old e-mails, particularly conversations.  My

memory isn’t that good after more than 8 years.  But for whatever its worth,

they are all based on real incidents (not that I expect anyone to necessarily

take my word for it).

I’ll probably eventually try to get around to writing you about Liliana if you

are still interested, but the timing depends on how busy things get at work.

This week was really light and I got caught up in all my memories from that

time.

Saludos,

Rob

********************************************************************************

Sent:    Wednesday, January 23, 2008 3:44:58 PM

Kelly:

Thanks for getting back to me.

I guess I did get kind of carried away yesterday..  What happened was that Lili

and I had a long talk about her experiences this weekend while at the beach,

after a few years of not really talking about it.  This was sparked by reading

your essay on escorting and the fact that she surprised me by actually sounding

fond about those days, I guess in comparison to her recent more routine life of

studying at the University and taking care of our small daughter.  She even

asked what I thought about her dipping her toe in those waters again,

particularly as she’s trying to get together some start-up capital to start a

business (she finishes a business degree this year).  Needless to say this kind

of shook me up a bit.

As it was a really slow day at work yesterday, while I was waiting to be sent a

document from one of our other offices I just started typing out the letter, I

guess more as a way of organizing my own thoughts (I find writing things out

helps me do this).  The next thing I knew I had written over 2 pages and I

started to wonder if you would even be all that interested.  So instead of

writing more, I just proofread what I had typed and sent you what I had last

night.

Anyway today I do have a lot more work, so I better get back to it.  I guess if

you are interested I could write more when I free up some time and if its OK

with Lili.  Otherwise, please keep up the diary as I do enjoy reading it.  You

have a great way of writing sex scenes while providing enough context to make it

real..

Regards,

Rob

********************************************************************************

Sent:    Saturday, January 26, 2008 10:26:47 PM

Hi Kelly:

Ever wonder how a successful businessman ends up getting married to a former

escort and prostitute?  It is a bit hard to explain.  To do this, I think I

first need to write about the woman I was dating before Liliana.

When Liliana and I first met towards the end of 1999, I had been living here for

almost two years, having taken an assignment abroad shortly after the definitive

break-up of my first marriage to my college girlfriend.  During my first year

here I basically played the field, just getting used to dating; a major

adjustment after having been with the same woman for most of the time going all

the way back to my sophomore year in college.

At first, this seemed to be the perfect country for getting into the dating

scene.  There certainly seemed to plenty of available single professional women

in their mid to late 20’s, who were interested in a 30 year old guy with a good

job.  It helped that I spoke good Spanish and tended to me more culturally

sensitive than many Americans men down here.  And I did meet some really nice

attractive women.  But the timing was all wrong.  Most of these women were

looking for something long-term and the last thing I wanted coming out of a

divorce was a serious relationship.

So during my second year in country, I spent most of the year in and out of a

relationship with a woman with whom it seemed there would be little danger that

things would get too serious.

Xiomara was a 28 year old Nicaraguan graduate student who was financing her

education by being the mistress of a middle-aged married Italian business-man.

He had her set up in an apartment, and was paying her tuition and a $2000 a

month stipend in exchange for her being available to him the one week each month

that he flew in from Milan to oversee his investments in the country.  This kind

of arrangement is really not all that unusual in Southern Europe and parts of

Latin America (though not so much here).

Xiomara was a pretty fascinating woman.  While not what you would call a

classical beauty, she radiated a certain elegance, natural intelligence and

inner strength that most men found very attractive.  She was always perfectly

groomed and quite stylish, in an artsy European sort of way.  For example,

Xiomara is the only woman I’ve ever known who could smoke using a longish

cigarette holder (which she only did very occasionally at parties), and not look

utterly ridiculous doing so. It didn’t hurt that she was tall for a Nicaraguan

(about 5′8″), had a fantastic body and was incredibly good in bed.

I was a bit of a jock in college and am not a bad looking guy, but quite

honestly, Xiomara would have been way out of my league back in New York (or in

Milan for that matter).

We originally met in January 1999 at a soccer game of all places, when she and

the Italian guy ended up sitting next to me and a friend.  I then ran into her

in a bar one evening and after she blatantly flirted with me for about an hour,

managed to work the nerve to ask her out.

Instead of writing what happened next from scratch, I’m inserting an extract

from an e-mail I sent at the time to my best friend from high school.  For years

he used to write me about all his misadventures with the opposite sex (and if

there ever was a guy with incredibly bad luck when it came to women, it was

him), but after my divorce we sort of reversed our roles as he had finally met

his future wife and I was the one trying to figure things out.

From e-mail dated May 13, 1999:

“The other good friend is Xiomara, this spectacularly good looking Nicaraguan

woman in her late 20’s.  When we first met, we actually dated for about a month

until I broke it off as it started getting too weird for me.  She’s the mistress

of a 40 something Italian businessman ….  She never really opened up to me, was

completely undependable about showing up for dates, and was always paranoid

about being seen by some friend of the Italian – a real stereotype “femme

fatale”.

Funny how things turn out though because when I ran into her a couple of months

later downtown, we went into a soda (like a café) and ended up spending 5 hours

just talking.  It was like being with a totally different person.  We ended up

getting together as friends several times a week after work (when the Italian

was away), sometimes just the two of us to drink beers and talk in “total

confianza” and other times with her rather wide circle of friends, mostly from

the local arts scene.  She turned out to be totally different that the image she

gave when we were sleeping together.  When not, in her words, “jugando el papel

de la querida” (playing the role of mistress), her real personality comes out.

She is extremely well read and very perceptive, with a very strong loyalty to

her friends.

This woman has a really fascinating past, some of which she told me and the rest

I learned from old friends of hers.  She had been a leading dancer with the

Nicaraguan National Dance Company as a teen-ager, before blowing out a knee at

the tender age of 18 just as she was accepted in an advanced dance program in

Cuba .  She had also undertaken military training while in the dance company -

they had been incorporated into the Sandinista Militia back in the 80’s.  So

with her dance career over, she was called into active service in an

administrative position, eventually becoming the mistress of the head of the

Sandinista Police.

That lasted until she figured out he was never going to leave his wife for her,

at which point she used her political contacts to finagle a scholarship to study

in Italy, where she also taught classes in salsa and merengue for expense money

and fell in and out of a drug problem while living with a young rich coke-head.

She returned to Nicaragua after finishing an undergraduate degree to find that

the only job she could get given the disastrous economic situation in that

country was as the financial manager of a chain of motels (ie. the fancy by-the-

hour kind that you find on the outskirts of most Latin American cities).  She

got bored with being broke, did not like the proposal of the now ex-police chief

to manage a high class whorehouse he was opening up (his solution to the new

“capitalist” Nicaragua), and was looking into going abroad again to study.  So

when she ran into the Italian guy (who had actually taught a business course at

her University in Italy), she agreed to his proposed that she move here where

he had business interests that would require him to visit regularly and the

Universities have a decent reputation.

All the above left her with an abysmal attitude towards men (as well as a rabid

hatred of drugs), and as I am not a masochist, I’ve been resisting the

temptation to resume any kind of romantic relationship with her.  In fact, she

gotten into a “matchmaking mode” trying to hook me up with some of her friends.

She has some pretty amazingly attractive friends, but I kind of leery about the

whole situation.”

Kelly, I think I’ll have to stop here for now as Liliana is finally ready so we

can go out with some friends.  Will try to continue this account about the days

before I met my wife in another e-mail; maybe tomorrow if I have time.

Take care,

Rob

********************************************************************************

Hi Kelly:

Here’s the rest of my account of my experiences with Xiomara and how that seemed

to set things up so that I was open to beginning a relationship with Liliana.

This is the final complete version and I have double-checked to make sure I

changed the names of all the people and some of the locations to preserve

anonymity.  So I think you can now safely post it.

Finding the rest of those old e-mails was a real blessing as otherwise there is

no way I would have been able to remember so many details on my own.  As a

result though, it has gotten really long.  I hope that’s not a problem.

Please note that these e-mails were mostly written in Spanglish, so I have

translated quite a bit.  Where I left in words in Spanish, I’ve added the

English translation in parenthesis.  I have also inserted a few explanatory

notes in the middle of some of these old e-mails.  These are clearly marked NOTE

and were not part of the original e-mail.

I’ve clearly taken considerable literary license in recreating the other

incidents I describe outside of the old e-mails, particularly conversations.  My

memory isn’t that good after more than 8 years.  But for whatever its worth,

they are all based on real incidents (not that I expect anyone to necessarily

take my word for it).

I’ll probably eventually try to get around to writing you about Liliana if you

are still interested, but the timing depends on how busy things get at work.

This week was really light and I got caught up in all my memories from that

time.

Saludos,

Rob

PART 2: XIOMARA AND FRIENDS

Things did get kind of weird, as you can see in this next much longer extract

from another subsequent e-mail to my old high school friend, “Chicho”. (Chicho

is originally from South America but did high school & college in the US before

moving to Europe). Reading it again now, it does give a pretty good idea of

where my head was at during the summer of ‘99 (not that it was summer down here,

but anyway…)

Extracted from e-mail sent July 11, 1999:

Oye Chichote:

So you want to know all the juicy details about Xiomara & her friends?  Que

pasa?  Is your inner voyeur coming out now that you’ve finally settled down with

Katia?  Well I guess it’s only fair given all the stuff you used to write me

when I was the “poor married fool” (to use your own words).  So you’re in luck

because it’s a lazy Saturday afternoon and for once I have no dates or other

compromisos.  A certain balding Italian guy is in town and my other main squeeze

(See, I really can sound like you!) has some activity with her kids.  Oh right,

I haven’t told you about her yet.  Well get comfy because this is going to be a

long one.

I already wrote you a bit about Xiomara, and its true, her story would make a

good novel.  The Police Chief I mentioned (or the “Comandante” as she calls him)

was actually in charge of one of the regions near Managua and not the entire

country.  He kept that position through the early Chamorro years when the

Sandinistas still controlled the police and military.  He sounds like a real pig

as he took advantage of an emotional time for her (her mother had a first minor

stroke and she had left the National Dance Company) to swoop down and steel her

away from her long-time high-school novio (boyfriend), who had wanted to marry

her.  Then being his lover made her “unmarriageable”.

According to an old friend of hers, Zayda (whom I’ll write more about later), it

turns out that she actually had quite a high profile in Managua at one time as

the “amante del comandante” (lover of the commander), even appearing in gossip

columns. This notoriety came about in part because she already had some public

recognition after an incident that happened when she was about 17.  Along with

some of the other dancers, she was doing a USO type tour performing for the

troops in the northern part of the country when their truck broke down forcing

them to spend the night in a small encampment instead of one of the larger more

secure bases.  Their encampment came under fire from a Contra raiding party late

that night. When the guy who was watching over the dancers got hit, she picked

up his AK-47 and helped hold that section of the perimeter. While Zayda is prone

to exaggeration and Xiomara doesn’t like talking about the incident, there’s

probably at least some basis for the story.

((NOTE: I found out later that Xiomara’s father had been pulled out of his

office, tortured and killed by Somoza’s goons in the early days of the

revolution, when she was just a kid, for daring to sign a petition that asked

that the Dictator call for elections as a way of avoiding further insurrection,

which he saw as bad for business.  He underestimated how desperate Somoza had

become that he would start killing small businessmen from respectable families.

This explains her early affinity with the Sandinistas and absolute hatred of the

Contra.  This is also why she didn’t hesitate to volunteer for the tours for the

troops or to become a reservist as soon as she was old enough)).

Anyway, because of all the gossip, the Comandante had to arrange for a discharge

for Xiomara, though he did then use his influence to get her a teaching position

in an elementary school and set her up in an apartment.  He now owns the most

exclusive escort agency in town (the one he tried to get Xiomara to manage).

Actually, you can hardly recognize her from her photos from that period because

the guy was obviously predisposed in that direction and already liked his women

to dress in slutty outfits, with lots of glossy make-up, hooker heels, the

works; something that Xiomara now does only on rather rare unpredictable

occasions that drive me crazy.  I never know how to dress when we’re going to

see each other since she normally wears more comfortable, though stylish,

outfits, with understated make-up.

Unfortunately, even the teaching job turned out to be only temporary as the

Comandante wanted her as dependent on him as possible.  She eventually feared

she was becoming an alcoholic from sitting alone in her apartment or the Italian

Restaurant downstairs, drinking and waiting for his increasingly infrequent

visits.  Fortunately she became good friends with the older Italian couple who

ran the restaurant and they started looking out for her.  They got her

interested in taking Italian lessons and were the ones who introduced her to the

right people in the Embassy so that she could arrange for her scholarship.  She

was quite willing to do her thing for the Revolution, but not on her back, so

she fled the country.

Her problems came after she had been back in Nicaragua for a couple of years

when her mother lost what remained of the family business (a couple of

boutiques) due to the ailing economy and promptly had a second more serious

stroke.  Her measly salary of less than $150 a month from the motel chain (which

believe it or not is actually pretty good money in Nicaragua) was not even close

to being enough to cover the costs of caring for her mother.  Fortunately she

avoided having to become a Madam by the surprising appearance of one of her

former professors from Italy in the restaurant below her old apartment; which

she still frequented even though she was now living with her mother.  The guy

wined and dined her all week, before finally convincing her to move here.

Personally I think the Italian guy must be really nuts, because he’s paying her

a lot of money just to see her a few times a month when he’s in town, despite

the fact that she accepts no limits on going out with friends whenever she feels

like it; having leaned from her experience with the Comandante (though she does

make a point of being very discrete).

The guy usually doesn’t even stay at her place, but rather gets a hotel suite he

can work out of and then just has her stay over there part of the time.

For him it must be some kind of macho thing.  Also, while Xiomara is bright and

attractive, she is much more the artsy intellectual type than the glamorous

empty-headed model you tend to think of as a mistress.  Actually, the way she

describes it is kind of funny.  I can just see her lazing about on top of the

bed dressed in fancy lingerie and full make-up, with her reading glasses on and

her head buried in a book, while he’s off in the other room meeting with all his

co-investors and other business contacts.

For her, I think it helps that he is relatively young (about 40), and in her

words, “muy guapo, muy respetuoso y muy elegante” (very handsome, very

respectful, and very elegant).  He reminds her a bit of the singer Eros

Ramazotti, and I have to admit there is a resemblance, right down to the shaved

head to cover up his premature baldness.  But she talks about all this as if it

were just an added bonus as what’s most important is that he gives her the money

she needs.  She insists that she never talks to him about anything serious and

she still doesn’t understand his motivation since his wife is very nice, quite

gorgeous and is elegant in that high fashion way that Xiomara will never be (not

surprising since the wife is a former model who works in the fashion industry in

Milan).  Her only conclusion after much personal experience is that “los hombres

italianos son todos unos perros.” (All Italian men are dogs)

Xiomara’s problem now is that while she genuinely did love the Comandante (at

least initially), she only “likes” the Italian and being dependent on him is

eating away at her.  But to go to school and keep supporting her family back

home, her only alternatives are even worse.  Xiomara is now not only paying for

full time personal care for her incapacitated mother, but also for her sister to

go to secretarial school and for her nieces to go to a private bilingual school,

as she talked her sister into leaving an abusive alcoholic husband.

One disconcerting thing about Xiomara is that she does have a temper.  So far

she’s never gotten angry with me, but the most extreme example is what she did

to another Nicaraguan woman a few weeks ago.  Of course, she did have a good

reason for getting very angry.

The entire incident started with Zayda, a 16 year old girl and former student of

Xiomara’s from her teaching days, who Xiomara at various times calls “hijita” or

“hermanita” (little daughter or little sister).  Xiomara actually took Zayda in

upon returning from Italy, when the girl was kicked out of her house by her

well-to-do father, after being caught sneaking a boy into her bedroom.  I

strongly suspect from some things Zayda and Xiomara have said that her father

had been molesting her from the time her mother died when she was 12 and that he

acted more out of jealousy than outrage over his daughter’s misbehavior.

Xiomara had left Zayda with the elderly Italian couple from the restaurant, but

there was no way in hell they could control the girl.  It seems that as soon as

Xiomara left to come here last year, the girl went wild – dropping out of school

and getting herself knocked up.  So Xiomara flew back home earlier this year,

got Zayda an abortion and brought her back here to finish school in the nocturno

(night school).   But the silly fool took advantage of the fact that Xiomara was

busy all the time and the excuse that she was supposed to go to school in the

evenings to fall into the company of another woman from back home who got her

into prostitution.

This other woman is a rather stuck up and pretentious bitch from another well

off family, who is now working here as a high class prostitute after her

family’s business also tanked along with the rest of the Nicaraguan economy.

While it was clear to me that Xiomara never really liked her much, she did

tolerate this other woman under the theory that people from the same place

should try to stick together when far from home.  But she certainly didn’t want

Zayda hanging around her and told the girl as much.

As I understand it, Zayda had snuck out with the woman to see Titanic for the

umpteenth time as one of the cinemas here brought it back.  Zayda looks a lot

like a slightly darker version of Kate Winslet and identified with the actress.

Coming out of the cinema, they ran into a regular client of the woman’s and a

friend, who took them out to dinner at a fancy restaurant and back to their

hotel.  The friend gave Zayda a generous $200 and she promptly romanticized the

whole thing skipped school the entire following week to be with him for the rest

of his business trip.  After that, I guess she started begging the other woman

to take her to the Casablanca (a pick-up bar for foreigners) so she could meet

other similar men.  The other women agreed figuring she could make some money of

this eager young girl and helped her get a fake ID.

I got involved when Xiomara and I met to go to a movie and she promptly told me

there was a change in plans.  Someone had gotten word to her about what was

going on and she dragged me along to look for Zayda at the Casablanca.  Sure

enough, there she was, and to make matters worse, Xiomara caught her in the

women’s room in the act of snorting up a line she had been given by their

compatriot. We got Zayda out of there fast (to the protests of an angry Texan

she was in the process of picking up, who quieted up real fast when I told him

her real age).  Fortunately Zayda had only been at it for a couple of weeks so

hopefully we got her out in time.

Unfortunately, we ran into the other Nicaraguan woman a few days later as we

were about to enter a dance club.  Xiomara completely lost it when the stupid

whore made the mistake of taunting her.  2 or 3 quick moves later and Xiomara

had the other woman face down on the ground in an arm lock, with her knee

pressing into her lower back, while telling her in the coldest tone of voice

I’ve ever heard, “If I so much as ever see you again, you will not survive.”  It

took Beatriz and I working together to finally pull Xiomara away from the other

woman, but only after she got in one last lick by stepping on the back of the

other woman’s hand with one of her spike heels.  No real damage was done as

Xiomara seemed to know exactly how far she wanted to go, but sure scared the

hell out of the other woman.  After seeing Xiomara fight, I certainly wouldn’t

want to have it out with her and it kind of scared me as well.

What was particularly surprising is that Xiomara normally comes across as quite

level-headed.  But I do know she feels a particular affinity for Zayda, dislikes

prostitution, and really hates drugs.  Xiomara ended up flying Zayda back to

Managua, but not before getting into a huge fight and slapping her when the girl

admitted that she had not used a condom with her first client because he was so

“nice”.  I guess that was the last straw as safe sex is another one of her pet

causes ever since she had a real bad scare in Italy and she had certainly

lectured Zayda often enough about it.

One thing that was strange about the entire incident is that Zayda obviously

worships Xiomara and it doesn’t make sense she would do something so much

against the older women’s wishes.  The girl even keeps as a prize possession an

old scrapbook with newspaper cutouts from Xiomara’s dancing days that she

rescued when Xiomara was going to throw it out back in Managua.  Maybe Zayda’s

acting up was just a bid for attention after feeling abandoned, first by her

real mother when she died, and then by her substitute adopted mother/elder

sister when Xiomara left Nicaragua.

It’s clear that Xiomara feels a lot of guilt about the whole thing, particularly

as she now realizes that she may have overlooked some hints that there might be

a problem.  First came an incident that happened right after Zayda got here when

they had dropped by the Casablanca with the Italian to look for some of his

friends.  Though Zayda stayed outside because she’s underage, she did watch

through the window and expressed wide-eyed interest in the goings-on, Xiomara

then sarcastically told her that since in Nicaragua she had started sleeping

around with everyone for free she might as well try it for money; never

imagining that the silly girl would take it literally.

The other bit of warning came about because of Xiomara’s neighbors; a youngish

looking Belgian widow in her mid to late 30’s and her 15 year old daughter.  I

was certainly surprised to find out that this pretty but rather conventional

looking and cultured former upper class housewife was providing escort services

once or twice a month to older wealthier tourists and a few businessmen.  It’s

all arranged over the internet and she tends to spend anywhere from 2 days to a

week with each client, serving as combination companion, hostess, tour guide and

often, bedmate (for an extra fee).  She fell into it almost accidently when her

husband (a local guy) left her with a bankrupt company and a lot of debt.

As Xiomara explained it to me, the widow’s new career started when a foreign guy

who had done business with her husband contacted her because he needed to host a

series of social events here in town and thought she made a great hostess.  She

ended up falling into bed with the guy on her own accord, but when he went to

pay her, he added a big tip for the “extra” services.  He then recommended her

to someone else and suddenly she had found a niche in the market that wasn’t

being filled by the traditional escort agencies with all their young beauties.

Xiomara says the widow was kind of resigned and down about the whole thing at

first.  But one time she came over all excited and cheerfully went into great

detail about her latest client.  The guy had flown her around the country with

him in a chartered plane to see the sights and had given her a $5000 tip on top

of her regular fee.  The tip alone was enough to cover her daughter’s tuition

for an entire semester at (an American School) – this from just four days worth

of work.  I guess Zayda was in the other room and overheard the whole thing

because Xiomara says that afterwards she was very curious about their neighbor’s

activities.

The Belgian woman had a fit when it turned out that Zayda had been confiding in

her daughter all along and was now claiming that after she raved about her first

night at the Casablanca, the other girl had asked Zayda to get her a fake ID so

that she could see what it was all about.  It didn’t help when I reported on

hearing this, that one time when I stopped by to drop off a book, I found both

girls wearing what only could be described as outrageous outfits and makeup,

while Zayda taught her new friend how to walk in very high heels (I actually

didn’t recognize the Belgian girl at fist because she usually looks kind of

girlish).  As they didn’t seem at all nervous about being discovered, I didn’t

think anything of it at the time.  In any case, I didn’t have a chance to say

anything because I was heading off on a business trip and didn’t see Xiomara

again until it was too late.  But you should have seen the look of panic on the

Belgian woman’s face when I brought up the incident the morning after we pulled

Zayda out of the Casanova.

Fortunately, the Belgian girl, though a year younger than Zayda, seems a lot

more level headed and mature (pretty amazing considering), as well as a good

student who is very serious about making it to college.  So I think once people

calmed down, they tended to believe her when she explained that she actually

tried to talk Zayda out of it, but didn’t tell on her because Zayda threatened

to reveal that she had been steeling her mother’s cigarettes.  Her credibility

was helped by the fact that she had started dropping hints to her mother that

something was up with Zayda, but had been ignored.

Needless to say, all this created a great deal of tension between Xiomara and

her neighbor, only exacerbated by Xiomara’s insistence that what she’s doing

with the Italian is totally different than what the other woman is doing.

Fortunately, the last time I went over there, I found the two talking to each

other like nothing had happened.

What I’ve written about Zayda makes her sound like an obnoxious rebellious

teenager, which is not completely accurate.  In fact, she came across as being

generally good natured, but rather silly, immature, naïve, and not too smart;

just basically screwed up and badly in need of counseling.  Unfortunately, that

kind of counseling is not readily available in Nicaragua as sexual abuse of

children is only now becoming a recognized issue (what with Ortega’s daughter

accusing him of raping her when she was in her early teens).  I did mention to

Xiomara that she might consider bringing Zayda back here where she could get the

kind of counseling she needs, but it sounds like things are still too hot

between the two of them for that to happen anytime soon.

A few days after the incident in front of the dance club, once things had cooled

down a bit, I had a long talk with Xiomara about the danger of what she had done

both because she didn’t know what kind of ‘friends’ the other woman might have;

as well as the fact that she was in a foreign country and no longer under the

protection of her former lover, the Comandante.  At Ziomara’s initial stubborn

refusal to accept that she had done anything wrong, I got kind of angry and told

her, “Don’t count on me if you start something like that again because unlike

you, I neither have militia or martial arts training nor have I learned how to

handle these situations in the bed of the former Chief of Police of a repressive

– Sorry, I mean ‘revolutionary’ – regime.”

I think Xiomara regrets losing her temper and attacking the other women, but I

still see her get very angry sometimes when she feels that her friends or family

are being put down or betrayed. Don’t get me wrong though, unlike my ex, she

doesn’t get angry at little inconveniences, and she just laughs off slights from

strangers or people she doesn’t care about. I think she developed a pretty thick

skin during those years with the Comandante when it comes to herself.  But

Xiomara does feel extremely protective about those she considers, “hers”.

In fact, one of her problems is that she seems to feel the need sacrifice

herself for people she considers family.  Given her mother’s condition and the

general lack of economic opportunities back home, she sees herself as inheriting

the role of matriarchal leader who is responsible for supporting any other women

in her family (or close friends) who has been done wrong by men (ie. about all

of them).  I keep telling her that she needs to think about herself and her own

future at least a little bit, as it sounds like she’s supporting half of Managua

and is at the same time creating a dependency on her that traps her into her own

current financial dependency on the Italian.

Despite all the problems and crisis I’ve mentioned, Xiomara tends to be

surprisingly upbeat most of the time.  She’s always looking to me for advice and

to be honest, I’m often not sure what to say.  Also, I feel guilty because from

my point of view it’s like having a real live telenovela around to keep my mind

off my own problems.  But it seems like she doesn’t want much from me except

company (and an occasional friendly bout of sex), so I guess I shouldn’t worry.

It helps that she’s also a good listener.  Though I admire her, I don’t think I

could ever fall in love with her.  Fortunately, she shows every indication of

wanting to keep our relationship exactly the way it is.  She says that if she

let herself fall in love with me, I could no longer be her confident.  This

concept of hers that sex and friendship can go together but that love and

friendship cannot seems pretty strange to me, but is rather convenient.

In any case, she’s certainly backing up what she’s saying with her actions by

hooking me up with, of all people, her best friend Beatriz.

Beatriz is divorced from an abusive wealthy Dutch guy who left her behind when

he fled the country a couple of years ago after a messy land speculation deal.

It seems he swept her off her feet and took her home to Holland when she was

only 17 and pregnant by her first boyfriend, who had promptly dumped her.

Fortunately for her, the Dutch guy left behind several assets including an

estate in (a wealthy neighborhood) which ended up not getting confiscated in the

aftermath of the busted land deal. She was able to sell the property and is

basically living off the interest. She is also running a small art gallery in

town of which she is part owner, though I doubt she gets much income from that.

Beatriz is absolutely gorgeous at about 5′4 with olive Mediterranean colored

skin, a round face with big dark eyes, and plush very kissable lips, both of

which she manages to emphasize quite effectively with make-up.  Yes, I know.

I’ve always agreed with you that when in comes to make-up, less is more.  Even

the impeccably groomed Xiomara tends to live by this rule (though in her case,

it would be: ‘less obvious is more’ since she sure takes her time about getting

ready to go out – even if I can’t tell what the hell she’s done). But Beatriz is

a walking advertisement for the wonders of heavy mascara, eye-liner and glossy

red lipstick. She was clearly genetically blessed as she also has the body of a

1950’s centerfold and you can barely tell that she’s had two kids.

((NOTE:  If you want to know what Beatriz looked like, google Cristina Kirchner,

the current president of Argentina, then take off 25 years and triple the

sexuality.  But there is remarkable resemblance.))

Besides her great looks, Beatriz is also a very nice person.  Of course she

isn’t perfect.  For one, she is not even close to being as sharp or intellectual

as Xiomara.  More importantly, she does have her own sordid past because of some

of the things the Dutch guy got her to do in Amsterdam strictly for his

amusement (the guy sounds like a total monster).  And then finally, there is the

fact that will probably make you fall right out of your chair when you read it:

Beatirz smokes.  Yes, the guy who made your life miserable back in High School

is now actually dating a smoker.  But I have to admit, it isn’t as bad as a I

thought it would be.  She’s not a heavy smoker (never in her house with her

kids), and somehow it just seems natural with her.  Maybe its also that I’ve

gotten used to it a little with Xiomara, who is one of these people who’s

constantly insisting she quit, but ends up bumming cigs off her friends when she

just can’t resist the temptation.

Xiomara’s smoking does seem a bit more incongruous to me because she’s a bit of

a health nut.  She never misses a day at the gym, unless it’s to go to her

martial arts classes, and is always lecturing the rest of us on the need to have

a healthy diet.  At first I thought it might be something she picked up when

young and stupid like most smokers do (sound familiar Chicho?), but she recently

told me she only smoked her first cigarette last year when the Italian pressured

her into at least “trying” it after he got fed up with her hassling him over his

own habit.  It turned out that she actually liked the damn things.

In any case, I’ve already been on several solo dates with Beatriz beginning in

early June and she sure surprised me the first time by asking me straight out to

take her to my place, though she did rush home relatively quickly.  Beatriz is a

lot of fun and certainly enjoys herself, but her two kids come first at all

times and she makes a point of always being there when they wake up in the

morning.  She’s definitely scared of commitment and, not surprisingly, seems to

have a strong desire never to be dependent on a man again, so I don’t know if

much will come out of our dating.

Now you’d think that my dating Beatriz would make it awkward when I’m doing

things with them both, but it hasn’t turned out that way at all.

In late June I even took a trip to (the beach) with the self-described “Las Tres

Mosqueteras” (Xiomara, Beatriz and their friend Sandra – and its just so

typically Xiomara to pick a masculine warrior name instead of something more

feminine that I had to laugh when I first heard them use it).

It was certainly an experience being the only guy among a group of really hot

women.  Now while this may sound like the ultimate male fantasy, the reality was

a bit different.  All three of them are going through one kind of crisis or

another so it became rather intense.  Unfortunately it turned out to be a lot

more like group therapy than group sex, but I can’t complain too much as we did

have at least a little fun, if you know what I mean.  But mostly I gave them

plenty of time for girl talk and actually finished a really good novel while I

was down there.  I certainly needed a relaxing break from work, so all in all

I’m glad I went along.

The beach trip was originally conceived a couple of months ago as a celebration

of the good results after Xiomara had dragged the other two down to take the HIV

test (about which both were incredibly nervous).  The trip was then postponed to

coincide with both Xiomara’s and Beatriz’s birthdays (29th and 27th

respectively) which coincidently are only 2 days apart.

I was actually kind of surprised to be invited along as I had assumed it would

be an all-girls outing.  The reasons behind my invitation became quickly

apparent when I realized that Xiomara and Beatriz were basically using me so as

not to be hit on by every guy in sight.  In fact, one of the fun parts was that

they both intentionally showed me a lot of affection in public (extremely out of

character for Xiomara), which drove people crazy trying to figure out which one

I was with.  It certainly did no harm to my ego.

It was also a chance to get to know Sandra a little bit.  I had met her and

certainly heard a lot about her from the other two, but had never spent much

time around her.  It turns out that Sandra had a somewhat successful career as a

professional dancer and is now in Grad School with Xiomara.  She’s a tiny little

woman with the body of a ballet dancer (which is to say, not many curves), but

does have this cute pixie thing going for her.  Though she is a little older

than her two fiends (maybe 31 or 32), she’s by far the least experienced having

been only with her husband since they started dating in High School; up until

recently anyway.  She is now in the process of getting a divorce because her

husband turned out to be gay.  She only found this out when Xiomara started

suspecting something after Sandra admitted that he hadn’t really made love to

her in years.  One evening a few months ago Xiomara used her extensive contacts

to track the guy down in a gay club, and found him making out with another guy.

So that was that.

Sandra’s problem is economic as her husband works as a lowly accountant by day

and is an actor in one of the local theatres at night; neither of which bring in

much income. So though Sandra’s keeping their small house, she can’t expect any

alimony.

((NOTE: Sandra’s ex actually co-starred with my wife Liliana in a comedy several

years later and turned out to be a really nice guy.  He just got caught living

in a society where he couldn’t come out of the closet, and Sandra suffered the

consequences.  But things are changing here and now he’s quite open about his

sexual preferences without really getting hassled about it.)).

Even then, we were quite stunned at the beach when Sandra announced that she was

seriously considering picking up guys for money at one of the bars downtown.

She’s become quite the little slut since breaking up with her husband – making

up for lost time I guess – and started figuring that she might as well charge

money for it.

Sandra was actively discouraged by the rest of us, with Beatriz going into

gruesome detail on some of her worst experiences in Amsterdam . Hearing

Beatriz’s stories made me want to puke and Xiomara was shocked speechless.  It

certainly had the right effect on Sandra.

Actually, a few days ago Beatriz admitted to me that she had greatly exaggerated

and emphasized the bad things to discourage Sandra, more because she felt that

her friend would not be able to handle being in that business than because of

any objections in principal to prostitution.  She pointed out that Sandra is not

young or physically attractive enough to be very successful at the highest

levels and has no street smarts or money sense.  She would inevitably get

herself into trouble.

Beatriz went on to admit that at the beginning she went along willingly with her

husband as it was not very frequent.  She was so young and had gotten bored and

frustrated during the pregnancy and later being shut up in a house in a strange

country taking care of a small baby.  It was a way of doing something exciting

that made her feel sexy again; as well as to please the guy she was dependent

on.  Besides, in exchange, he finally agreed to pay for her to go to art school.

It was only later that he started pushing her more and more until he finally

actually arranged for her to stay in a bordello for a week while he went on a

business trip.

That woke her up fast enough and she grabbed her kid and ran home.  He soon

followed her back here begging for her forgiveness; and in fact he did improve

quite a bit in his treatment of her at first, particularly when she got pregnant

with his son.  But he also started getting heavily into drugs as his business

problems increased and then by the end he had actually started hitting her.

Finally she fled to her mother’s house in (a provincial town) until her husband

went back to Holland .  Even worse, she confirmed something I thought I had

overheard in a discussion between Xiomara and her.  She admitted that she had

worked as a whore for a time after returning to (the capital) once her husband

had fled.  She explained that she had done it mainly for the money, as it took

some time to clear up the legal situation with her husband’s assets, but also

just to have sex with guys who she wouldn’t have to deal with afterwards.

Beatriz does joke that she made a pretty lousy prostitute as she kept turning

guys down if she didn’t find them attractive.  Otherwise, she found the local

scene to be pretty tame compared to some of the stuff she had seen in Holland

and insisted it wasn’t all that bad.

There’s an interesting contrast between Xiomara and Beatriz on the subject of

prostitution, something that came up once again when the three of us met for

lunch earlier this week.  The former abhors the very concept and

intellectualizes that it’s the ultimate exploitation of women. (for all that

some of her best friends have been or are prostitutes of one sort or another).

She sees it as this big trap that once you fall into soils you for life.

Perhaps this comes from the fact that she’s been so close to falling into it

herself.  Beatriz, for all that she blushes so charmingly when she talks about

the subject, has a much more practical point of view.  She’d rather not, but if

she needs the money and cute guys are willing to pay her under her terms, then

what’s the problem?  She’s certainly seen and done much worse and clearly can

take it or leave it as she wishes.  As for Xiomara’s intellectual arguments,

that’s just so much BLA-BLA-BLA to her.  As Beatriz argued back, “How can I be

the one who’s being exploited if I’m the one in charge?  The one who decides

what, when, with whom and for how much?  Exploited is having a husband who

forces you to fuck strangers in front of a crowd when you don’t want to.”

This has all been somewhat eye-opening for me as I’d never really thought much

about the subject before.  If you’d asked, I would have probably given you the

usual American view of prostitutes as dirty slimy junkie streetwalkers getting

beat up by their pimps.  Clearly the situation is very different here where it’s

a legal (albeit less than reputable) profession.  Certainly I have trouble

reconciling Beatriz or the Belgian woman for that matter, with anyone’s image of

the downtrodden prostitute.  Perhaps they’ve had some bad luck and made a poor

choice of husbands, but they’ve both certainly made the best of circumstances

and on their own terms.  Yeah, I know what Katia would say – that they are all

victims of a patriarchal society, etc, etc. etc.  But as you well know, there

are certain realities in this part of the world and people just have to get by

while trying to hold on to their values the best they can (and BTW, I still

can’t get over the fact that you of all people are engaged to a Green Party

radical feminist.  (WTF???)  After that lecture she gave us in that beer hall a

couple of years ago I was surprised enough to hear you were still dating each

other, let alone living together and getting married.  But don’t get me wrong, I

totally approve – probably exactly what you both needed.)

In any case, its certainly true that despite all of her experiences, Beatriz

definitely still does very much enjoy sex, as long as she picks the person and

the time.  But still, it sounds pretty screwed up, right?  The funny thing

though is that Beatriz now comes across as relatively level-headed and

emotionally stable.  Maybe it’s because she does have a good support structure

in her friends and her mother, who she finally brought to the city to live with

her once she settled things.  Though Beatriz comes from a more working class

background than the rest, her mother sounds like by far the most progressive and

positively supportive parent of the bunch and Xiomara thinks this is what really

settled Beatriz down. There’s also the fact that she is so dedicated to her

kids.

I can tell you though, that after talking to these three women, it can sure make

you pretty disgusted with a lot of men and I start understanding where Katia is

coming from. I have to admit that some of their stories sounded so incredible

that I was pretty skeptical at first, but the problem is that I keep getting

little bits of confirmation when talking to the women separately.  For instance

almost all the main points in Xiomara’s story were repeated to me in

conversations with Zayda who was in a position to know.

I guess this e-mail has gone on long enough by now and it’s already Sunday

afternoon as I finish this up.  I spent most of the weekend on this damn thing.

You probably didn’t expect to receive this “novel” when you asked for more

details, did you?  Obviously I find Xiomara and her friends to be quite

interesting and ended up using this letter as a way of getting down their

stories and organizing my own impressions.

(end of extract)

PART 3: SOME FUN AT THE BEACH

Of course some pretty interesting stuff did happen on that beach trip that I

didn’t write Chicho about.

Xiomara had reserved a bungalow with two double-beds in the bedroom, which was

shared by the women, and a sofa-bed in the living room, which I took.  We also

shared the cost of the room 3 ways (with me paying what was originally to have

been Sandra’s share since she clearly couldn’t afford it).  They took turns

preparing meals to save money and were surprised when I insisted on being

included in the rotation.  Not that I actually cooked anything, as instead I

used my “turns” as an excuse to take them all out to eat.  They certainly didn’t

complain about that.

I was surprised at first about the way Xiomara and Beatriz would make a point of

each taking one of my arms as I escorted them in and out of restaurants and

bars, until I figured out why they were doing that.  Then I worried that Sandra

would start feeling left out, until it became apparent that she very much wanted

to get hit on (and in fact let herself get picked up a couple of times).

We were at the beach for something like 5 nights, and there really was no sex

during most of that period.  They teased me often enough and some pretty risqué

sexual jokes flew back and forth at times, but I knew both Xiomara and Beatriz

well enough by then to realize that they weren’t really serious.  I think that

at least initially there was an unstated recognition that it would have been too

awkward had one of them decided to take me off into the bedroom.

The first exception occurred one day when we hiked down the coast and found a

little cove with no other people around.  The 3 women promptly stripped off

their bikini tops and made a huge production of applying sun tan lotion to their

breasts.  I did get some great photos of the three of them playing topless in

the waves, though unfortunately Liliana later threw them out when she found them

shortly after moving in with me.

Inevitably I got hard, and they had a wonderful time teasing me about the bulge

in my swimming suit.  But it did come as a big surprise when I woke up after

dozing off following our picnic lunch to suddenly find Xiomara and Beatriz

pressed up against me, one on each side, while they lightly ran their fingers

through my chest hair.  After laughing at my startled expression, they started

commenting to each other about how it really wasn’t fair the way they had been

teasing me without giving me any relief.  Of course, feeling their naked breasts

up against my side and having them touch me was worse than any previous teasing

they had put me through.

Then to my surprise, Xiomara reached down and handled my cock through my bathing

suit, while noting, “It really is big and hard now.”

Beatriz followed her lead and ran one of her long red fingernails up the other

side of my cock, while agreeing with her friend.

By this point, I was about to come right there in my trunks, but they seemed to

realize this and stopped stroking my cock.  As I moaned in protest, Xiomara

noted, “Bea, I think we’ve really have been unfair to poor Roberto, don’t you

think?”  When Beatriz simply nodded in agreement, Xiomara continued by asking

me, “Rob, do you have a coin?”

“What…?”  I couldn’t figure out what she wanted a coin for, but I nodded towards

my backpack.  The two women then proceeded to flip for the right to give me some

relief.  Beatriz won the coin toss and the next thing I knew, she was leading me

off behind some bushes.  She promptly got down on her knees, pulled down my

trunks and gobbled me up.  I have to admit that I didn’t last too long, not

surprising given the state I was in.  But it was great the way she took my first

spurt in her mouth and then had me cover her tits in my cum.

When we walked back to join the others, I was kind of worried about Xiomara’s

reaction.  But as we stood above them I could see that she seemed to think the

whole thing was funny.  This was confirmed when Beatriz then ran a finger up the

top of one breast gathering up my cum and tasted it, while noting teasingly,

“Que rico!” (how delicious).  Xiomara promptly jumped up and chased her as they

both ran laughing into the waves.

The blowjob had been pretty nice, but there was still more to come.  A while

later, Bea and I started feeling the effects of the sun and moved our towels

over to sit by Sandra (who always stayed in the shade because her lily white

skin tended to burn too easily).  Sandra started tentatively asking Beatriz some

questions about what she had done for me.  It turned out that our smaller friend

had never really given a blow job, afraid that she would choke if she took a

cock all the way.  And admittedly her mouth was really small, so I could see

where she was coming from.

Beatriz thought that was a real pity and tried to describe methods Sandra could

use to control things.  The next thing I knew, without so much as asking my

permission, Bea pulled down my trunks and started to give our friend a practical

demonstration.  Not that I was complaining too much, particularly when Sandra

moved over and started following her more experienced friends instructions.  Now

they weren’t really trying to make it particularly good for me.  I just had a

handy instrument that they could practice on, with the advantage according to

Bea that if Sandra could learn to handle mine, she would have little trouble

with most others.  Now my cock isn’t really much longer than average, but it is

rather thick, so I guess she had a point.  In any case, I was hardly complaining

and fortunately Sandra was a quick learner.

Once she gained confidence that she could control how far I penetrated into her

mouth by holding my cock with her hand, she decided she wanted to see if she

could swallow a load of cum.  So it was at that point that she really went to

work focusing much more on my pleasure.  Well, it certainly worked as I

eventually ejaculated my second load of cum of the afternoon into the mouth of a

second Mosquetera.  Sandra wasn’t able to take it all on that first try, but she

did make a valiant effort to take some of it down and was quite proud of

herself.  For my part, the image of my thick cock next to her cute little pixie

face became a recurring part of my masturbatory fantasies for awhile.

But that was to be the first and last time I ever had any real sexual contact

with Sandra, which was probably for the better as I already had by hands full

with the other two.

After that little day trip, I kind of figured that was about as far as things

would go sexually, especially since none of the women made a move towards doing

something with me that night.  Of course, it turned out I was wrong.

The last day of our vacation was quite eventful as the Mosketeras got identical

smallish tattoos of three crossed swords and a red rose on the outside of their

upper thighs (in a location where it would not be visible except when wearing

the shortest of skirts or a bikini).  Beatriz had sketched out the design over

the previous few days and I was completely ignored when I pointed out that she

had drawn broadswords, and not the kind used by the three musketeers.

Only Beatriz had a previous tattoo, a nicely done not too large flowery design

on her lower back which she got in Holland.  But they were beginning to come

into fashion over here at the time, along with belly button rings (Beatriz

already had one of those as well) and the other two allowed themselves to be

talked into getting this symbol of their friendship.  Where Xiomara and Sandra

did hold the line was on getting the tattoo on the back of a shoulder where it

would be more visible.  Now I wasn’t so sure the tattoos were such a great idea.

But no one was asking my opinion.  It was clearly some kind of feminine bonding

thing and I quickly decided it was better to keep my mouth shut.  At least the

tattoo artist did a pretty nice job.  Certainly the women were excited enough,

and properly primed for a fun evening.

That night we ended up dancing on the beach to a live reggae/socca band that had

set up in a large thatched hut.  Up until this point on our vacation, the women

had tended to be rather careful about not drinking too much, but since it was

the last night, they completely let go.  Sandra even came up with a couple of

joints that she had procured somewhere, which she proceeded to share with

Xiomara later on in the evening when we were resting by a bonfire someone had

lit on the beach.  Xiomara’s strong opposition to hard drugs didn’t extend to

very occasionally indulging in pot.  For my part, I had never really liked pot

much when I tried it in college (more out of a rebellion against my super

straight strict catholic future wife, then because I had really wanted to).  So

I was happy to keep Beatriz company in abstaining.  Besides, I was driving and

had limited myself to alternating beers and cokes all evening.

Things really started getting interesting when Sandra got around to her second

joint.  After Xiomara waved it off, she immediately crossed over to the other

side of the bonfire to sit with two young university students she had been

flirting and dancing with all evening.  Once she had shared it with them, we

overheard her ask through a sudden break in the music, “Quieren cogerme?” (Do

you want to fuck me?)

The two boys looked surprised at being asked so directly, but seemed to have no

problems with the idea, only asking, “Where?”

Sandra motioned into the darkness down the beach and soon the trio was on there

feet rather unsteadily moving away from us.  They actually looked kind of funny,

tiny little Sandra sandwiched between two well built young guys, either one of

whom probably weighed twice as much as she did.

But given how blasted Sandra was, I wondered if Xiomara would interfere and was

kind of relieved when she called out, “San”  But all she did was toss her one of

our towels and the beach bag the three women had brought between them to hold

their cigarettes, make-up and such.  When I gave her a questioning look, she

explained, “Condoms.”

I had to ask, “Are you sure she’ll be fine?  She seems pretty drunk”.

Xiomara smiled in response before explaining, “You worried that those boys might

take advantage of her?  I think that’s exactly what she wants.  Besides, would

you stop a friend of yours from helping himself to two sexy willing 20 year old

girls?”

Well, when she put it that way…

Xiomara continued, “Sandra is just making up for 10 years of drought.”

It was at this point that Beatriz returned from having danced with someone and

started looking around for her cigs.  When Xiomara explained why Sandra had

walked off with them, Beatriz looked rather envious.

The three of us ended up lying back and looking up at the stars while we waited

for our friend to return with her boy toys.  Soon I had both women scrunched up

against me with their heads on my shoulders.  I was already turned on having

watched them dance all evening wearing only their bikini tops and short wrap-

around skirts, and I’m afraid my shorts started bulging again.  This didn’t go

unnoticed, but this time when they didn’t comment on it directly.

Beatriz finally noted out loud, “Lucky Sandra.”

Xiomara sighed and responded, “I know what you mean”

Beatriz continued, “I could really use a man right now.”

There was a long pause during which I considered whether I should point out the

obvious.  Fortunately I didn’t have to as Beatriz spoke up rather tentatively,

“Well we do have a perfectly serviceable man right here…”

Xiomara responded carefully, “It’s not like we both haven’t been with him

before.  But there are two of us…”

As they both fell silent, I decided to say nothing.  My best shot was clearly to

let them talk themselves into something.  But nothing more was said at the time,

though both women did scrunch up even closer to me.

Soon enough, Sandra came stumbling back propped up between her two boys, looking

very drunk but also quite satisfied.  They dropped her off and quickly excused

themselves acting somewhat embarrassed.  Noticing that we were all staring at

her in curiosity, Sandra simply shrugged and noted, “I really need a cigarette.

Where are they?”

Beatriz answered sounding a bit peeved, “You walked off with them.”

“Oh right.”  She then pulled out a cigarette and lit up before tossing the pack

to Beatriz.  Watching her inhale deeply, it was clear that sex wasn’t the only

thing Sandra had taken to lately.  She had only started smoking occasionally a

few weeks earlier, but had gone full out during this vacation, preferring to

ignore Xiomara’s repeated warnings about how easy it was to get hooked.  Of

course our Nicaraguan friend’s message was somewhat weakened by the fact that

she was also constantly bumming cigarettes off of Beatriz (and sure enough,

after that beach trip Xiomara gave up any pretentions of trying to quit and went

back to buying her own cigarettes.  Perhaps it was never a realistic goal anyway

as long as she was with the Italian.  They soon even had me lighting up

occasionally, though fortunately I never became more than a social smoker).

We left shortly after Sandra’s return, and she was soon snoring away during the

short drive back to our hotel.  We had trouble getting her into the room, where

she promptly collapsed on my bed by the entrance.  I was standing there trying

to figure out what to do while the other two women rushed into the bathroom.

Then Sandra rolled over on to her back and her skirt fell open giving me a

perfect view of her closely trimmed pussy.  She’d obviously lost her bikini

bottom or panties somewhere along the way.  It was immediately apparent that

Sandra hadn’t gotten around to using the condoms, as her crotch and upper thighs

were covered in cum.  I could see some still leaking out of her pussy, and

immediately started getting hard again, almost despite myself.  It really was

like something straight out of porno movie.  Sandra might not have had much in

the way of breasts or hips, but her pussy looked incredibly beautiful and I

stated musing that if there was such a thing as a pussy model, she could make a

bundle.

It was at that point that Xiomara came back in the room and caught me staring at

her friend.  She teased, “pervertido” (pervert).

I tried to cover for myself by noting, “I don’t think she used protection.

Maybe you should have been more concerned about her.”

Xiomara looked closely and after cursing, went on to note quite seriously.

“I’ll definitely need to have a talk with our Sandrita in the morning.  And to

think how much she agonized over those blood tests.  At least she took my advice

and went on the pill.”

Beatriz came back in and after noticing what we were staring at, quickly moved

to cover up Sandra with a sheet, blushing charmingly in that way she had in

these types of situations.  Of course that didn’t keep her from teasing, “I

don’t think we will be moving her anytime soon.  Too bad.  I guess Rob will just

have to share a bed with one of us.  But which one of us?”

I of course was not about to point out that the obvious solution was for the two

of them to share a bed and instead quipped, “You could always toss a coin

again.”

Xiomara, a girl that i consider to be my girlfriend,  just gave me a knowing look and then pushed me towards the bathroom

while responding, “We’ll figure something out.”

When I came out of the bathroom I could hear the two women whispering to each

other in the living area, so I turned off the overhead light, leaving just the

bedside lamp on and plopped down on one of the beds.  I had decided to leave on

my boxers so as not to seem too presumptuous.

I must have dozed off a bit, because the next thing I knew, a naked Beatriz was

climbing into bed with me.  I started to mumble something about it being her

lucky week, but was interrupted by a naked Xiomara kneeling on the bed on my

other side.

When I looked over at her, I saw that she was holding a box of condoms and as I

reached for her, she waved me away and announced the “rules” for our upcoming

encounter.  I was way too excited by then at the prospect of fulfilling one of

my top fantasies to pay much attention, which actually was probably for the

better since the whole thing started out just as I might have imagined and I

could let myself go without thinking about some of the limitations Xiomara had

come up with.

To be honest, I can’t remember all the details of everything we did that night,

but I know that they started by kissing me all over.  Beatriz began with my

feet, while Xiomara started kissing my face and neck.  They both moved gradually

towards the middle, leaving a trail of red lipstick marks in their wakes, and by

the time they got to my cock I was pretty much ready to explode.  Fortunately,

Xiomara used her trick of squeezing my cock in a certain way to keep me from

coming too soon.

While they had been working on me, I had been lightly stroking Xiomara, since

she was the one within reach.  I first concentrated on her breasts, before

eventually moving down between her legs until she was quite juicy.  But when I

tried to pull her over so that she could straddle my head, she moved away and

the women switched places.  Suddenly I had an already aroused Xiomara settling

on to my cock, while Beatriz’s shaved pussy descended towards my hungry mouth.

I remember thinking rather vaguely that I was kind of glad they switched, since

Xiomara only trimmed her bush enough to fit into her bathing suit.  Her Italian

actually preferred some hair down there.  Personally, I’d rather not have a

mouth full of hair.  What is it about these Italian guys anyway?

Of course, they didn’t arrange things this way just to please me.  I had already

learned that while Beatriz could come rather easily when being eaten out, she

had a much harder time during regular intercourse.  On the other hand, of all

the women I’ve ever been with, no one could match the speed with which Xiomara

could come from straight out fucking, particularly in the cowgirl or missionary

positions (she didn’t like the doggy position – probably too submissive for her

tastes).  As a result, the first round was a complete success, with everyone

getting off rather handedly within seconds of each other (Beatriz, Xiomara and

me, in that order if I remember properly).

Now if this had been my fantasy threesome, we would have spent the rest of the

night in various wonderful combinations, including the one that always got me

off when masturbating (one girl lying atop the other with me thrusting back and

forth between their pussies).

But of course reality did set in.  For one, I was no longer 18 and could not

just recover my hard on instantaneously.  Now this would have been OK if the

women had been willing to entertain each other while I recharged my batteries.

But neither one was bisexual and they almost went out of their way not to touch

each other even by accident (which I should have expected since lesbian sex

seems much more of a taboo in Latin America than in the US).  And finally, there

were those pesky rules that I had not really paid attention to.  It turned out

that they were really serious about the fact that I couldn’t go from one to the

other without changing condoms.

At least we did manage a second round in which I first fucked Xiomara in the

missionary position until she came, and then mounted Beatriz from behind until I

came.  The encounter finished with me eating out Beatriz until she finally had

her second orgasm (which turned out to be one of the few times she had ever come

more than once in a night).

All in all, it was a pretty great experience even if it didn’t go exactly the

way I had imagined it might.  At least this way, it left part of my fantasy

alive to be fulfilled in the future.  I remember thinking at the time that maybe

someday I’d get two women into bed with me who were also into each other and in

a situation where we didn’t have to worry about safe sex.

It is worth noting that once we were done, Xiomara moved to the other bed,

leaving Beatriz to spend the night in my arms.  Furthermore, on the drive back

to the airport the next day, Xiomara made a point of giving Beatriz the copilot

chair, which had been hers during the entire vacation.  I didn’t really make

much of it at the time, but when it turned out that the threesome was the last

time I was to have sex with Xiomara that summer, even I realized this

significance of her actions.

As for the Poor Sandra, she woke up with the worst hangover of her life and, as

people will do, promised she’d never drink again.  In her case, she actually did

really take it easy with booze after that.  At least the car rental guys didn’t

notice the stain on the backseat upholstery where Sandra had been sitting the

night before.  Those boys sure must have pumped her full of a lot of cum.

PART 4: THE MOSQUETERAS RULE

I think this is about the right place to insert the following extract from my

next e-mail to Chicho, after he responded to the previous really long one:

Extracted from e-mail dated July 21, 1999:

Personally I’m beginning to feel kind of guilty because I’m having a pretty good

time going out with these various women while I certainly wouldn’t want to get

seriously romantically involved with any of them.  They simply carry too much

baggage.  I still think its weird that I’m dating two best friends and they seem

to have no problem with it at all.  There certainly hasn’t been any pressure to

choose between them, either because they don’t see me worth fighting for or

because they’re well aware that the decision is basically theirs and not mine.

It is true I haven’t seen much of Xiomara recently, but her Italian was in town

for longer than usual this time; for what seemed like most of the first half of

this month.  She did call me this morning and it sounds like she’ll be joining

us at their favorite dance club this Friday night.  This time I might not be the

only guy in our group (not that they’ve ever had any trouble finding men to

dance with once we get there).  It sounds like Sandra has a new guy she’s been

seeing and Xiomara suggested I make one more attempt to get Diego to come along.

I think I mentioned him before, but he’s this Argentine guy out of MIT and the

only foreigner at the office who’s about my age.  The problem is that he’s

really crazy about his girlfriend back in the States, so he’s been reluctant to

do more than go to soccer games with me.  But we’ll see.  In any case, it will

be nice to watch Las Tres Mosqueteras ride again (figuratively anyway).

To tell you the truth, I don’t know why they keep hanging around me (they tend

to call me more often than not), except that maybe its because I listen with

genuine interest, am careful not to be judgmental and am not in the least

possessive or jealous around them.

Also, its true that I do tend to pick up the check if I’m out with just the

Mosqueteras (or any combination of the three), though not if we’re with a larger

group.  But we are in Latin America after all and its to be expected.  I also

think it helps that I don’t have the kind of money or personality that makes me

a potential long-term provider (by their standards), so its all kind of relaxed

for them as well.  They treat me primarily as a friend, but one who they can

sleep with if they feel like it, which is fine by me at this point.  One key

aspect from my point of view is that they all have very strong reasons for

staying away from drugs (Beatriz once ended up in the hospital from a bad

reaction to some coke she finally accepted from her husband late in her

marriage).

I am beginning to start wondering where I want things to go from here.  My

original connection was with Ziomara and I still feel the strongest about her.

But Beatriz is impossible not to like because she’s just so damn nice and so

amazingly unpretentious despite how gorgeous she is.  Its also cute the way she

still blushes when talking about the wilder things she’s done in her past.  But

she is very definitely not looking for anything serious with any man, period.

Even though I have been seeing a lot more of her lately, I still don’t get the

impression that she sees me as anything long-term.

Xiomara can be more “chocante” (brusque/harder edged), but she’s also more

interesting and exciting to be around.  We can talk for hours with perfect

understanding even when we disagree, which to be honest I think scares us both

so much that one or the other ends up backing off from the relationship every

once and awhile.  As long as she’s dependent on her Italian (and I certainly

don’t have the money or inclination to take his place), I don’t think that’s

going anywhere either.

I guess you can tell from all these long e-mails that it has been kind of

intense.  Amazing to think I met Xiomara for the first time only 6 months ago.

One thing’s for sure though, eventually I’m going to need to move on to other

types of women.  While I have continued to go out on a few dates over the months

with more “normal” women, nothing really clicks.  I still don’t like all the

games you have to go through when dating (particularly down here) and in the end

many of these women seem even more mercenary than Xiomara and her friends.  In

some cases, like the last one a couple of months ago, you can almost see them

thinking: “rich professional gringo!”  I guess at some point I’ll be ready to

meet young single professional woman that I might have more in common with.

In your latest e-mail you ask me what kind of woman I was looking for; “my

perfect woman”.  Well, she doesn’t have to be quite as openly sexual as Xiomara

and Beatriz.  As long she’s intelligent enough so that you can carry on a

reasonable conversation about a variety of things and cute enough so that I find

her attractive, I would be quite happy.

It would certainly be an interesting change to be around a woman who hasn’t been

completely screwed in the most sordid ways (both literally and figuratively) by

the men in her past – that is if such a women exists over the age of 25.

(end of extract)

Well, that’s the end of the relevant parts of that particular e-mail to Chicho

and as you have probably figured out by now, I didn’t quite end up with the type

of woman I thought I was looking for as described at the end there.  I also

didn’t quite manage keeping from getting romantically involved with at least one

of the Mosqueteras.

What did happen over the next couple of months or so was that Beatriz and I kept

seeing each other quite frequently, but this didn’t mean that we neglected our

friends.

The Mosqueteras as a group decided to take on the town.  Pretty much every

Friday night they would descend on one of their favorite dance clubs.  Things

got really interesting when they adopted the custom of always dressing in such a

way as to show off or at least be able to flash their matching tattoos, without

getting kicked out for indecent exposure.  This usually meant wearing skirts

with a slit up the one side, though they did get inventive at times, like one

night where Beatriz wore skin tight jeans torn strategically in just the right

place.  Given that the fashion at the time seemed to be long black stretch pants

(at least I think that’s what they’re called), this made the Mosqueteras stand

out even more than they normally would have.  They certainly made an impression.

Probably their favorite club was an old disco called Galaxia.  The place had

been around since the late-70’s when it had been the most fashionable disco in

town, somehow survived the lean years and was reborn in the mid-90’s catering to

a more eclectic crowd looking for a much wider variety of music compared to most

of the other clubs.  They usually alternated three 20 minute sets:  European

electronic dance music, Latin music (Merengue, Salsa and Cumbia) and finally an

assorted set that included Hip Hop, Reggae and Rock in both English and Spanish.

One of the nice things about the place is that it did not cater specifically ot

the 18 to 25 crowd the way so many clubs in town did, though of course you would

get plenty of college kids (both local and foreign).  But you also got the local

Goths, the marijuanos (hippie throwbacks), married couples of varying ages,

tourists and pretty much any other group you can imagine.  It was even a

favorite place for the whores from the upscale pick-up places like the

Casablanca and the hotel bar Liliana worked out of to take any dates who wanted

to go dancing.  On any given night, you could find people from almost any

ethnicity and at least a dozen different nationalities.  A final important

consideration was that the Italian guy and his friends didn’t like the place so

he never took Xiomara there.  All in all, it was perfect for the Mosqueteras.

The dynamic when I was along with them, which was most of the time, was quite

interesting.  When Beatriz was alone with me, she would act like the typical

girlfriend, holding my hand, walking arm in arm, even the odd kiss.  But when we

were with the others at the club, she would generally keep her distance, though

at least she always sat by my side.  I would take turns dancing with all three

women (and any others they had roped in to joining our group for the night), but

it was clear I was not to play favorites.  Besides, I’m really not the best

dancer, so they spent most of their time dancing with other guys or even each

other – spreading the wealth around a bit.  All three were spectacularly good

dancers, not surprising given their training, and that only added to the impact

they made on the scene.

This naturally meant that there was a lot of speculation about where I fit in.

While a lot of guys were quite envious, kidding me about my “harem”, I think

most quickly realized that the girls were the ones in charge and that I was

along for the ride.  I didn’t mind that, but wasn’t happy at all when someone

let me know that people were wondering if I was a gay friend of theirs.  When

the Mosqueteras caught on, they resolved the situation in typical fashion by

taking turns giving me the occasional open mouthed passionate kiss out on the

dance-floor.  Even Sandra got in on the action when not accompanied by date of

her own (and she was no slouch as a kisser).  This of course amped up the

speculation by several degrees as no one could figure out how this rather normal

looking Gringo in his levis and t-shirts, who couldn’t even dance all that well,

could possibly have such an in with the three queens of the club.  The

Mosqueteras certainly didn’t mind adding another layer of mystery to their

mystique, and I certainly didn’t mind all the attention I suddenly started

getting from other women.

At least at the end of the evening, Beatriz would invariably leave with me.

Unless accompanied by a date, Sandra would almost always take someone home with

her, though after one bad experience she learned to first consult with Xiomara &

Beatriz about her intended target as they had better instincts about such

things.  The interesting thing about Sandra was that she seemed to have two sets

of lovers; guys (usually younger) whom she picked up at the club for a one-night

stand, and a small roster of more serious men in their 30’s and 40’s (several of

them married) who she would regularly date for a period of time, without ever

letting it get exclusive.  It was funny the way she was always surrounded by men

and not just at the club.  I mean she really did have no tits or ass to speak

of, something particularly important in a Latin country, and though she was

acting like a slut, she certainly didn’t dress like one, at least not outside of

the club.  It did probably help a lot when Beatriz took her on as a makeover

project, finding her a style that maximized her natural delicate elegance and

cute face.  She got Sandra’s long light brown hair bobbed and lightened, taught

her to use more make-up, something she had really never bothered with before,

and helped her pick out a few new outfits she could afford.  But more important,

Sandra absolutely exuded sexuality.  Guys can tell when a woman is interested in

sex and Sandra clearly was.  I guess a way to sum it up is that she became

something of an elegant slut.

As for Xiomara, she almost never let herself get picked up, though it hilarious

the way she weeded through her prospects.  She would treat any guy who hit on

her with utter contempt and only when one of them proved study enough to

withstand her most withering best, would she deign to consider letting him

escort her out of the club.  It did make me realize how out of character it had

been when she had flirted with me so blatantly at that bar when we met back in

January.  No wonder Sandra (who had been with her at the time) had looked so

surprised.

PART 5: DATING BEATRIZ

As I’ve mentioned above, beginning at about the time we returned from the beach

trip, Beatriz and I started dating on a regular basis.  But what did this

actually mean?

I quickly learned that she had two very different facets to her personality.

First, there was Beatriz the mom and caring friend, the picture of a responsible

mature single mother, running her home and her business with remarkable

efficiency, while always being there for her friends when they needed her.

And then, there was Bea, the playful inventive sex fiend.  Of all the 20 odd

women I’ve had sex with in my life; Bea was the one who most closely resembles a

character in an erotic story.  For one, this girl really loved cum and not just

deep inside her pussy.  She loved it in her mouth, down her throat, all over her

face, on her tits, or anywhere else I wanted to shoot it.  I’ve been with (a

few) women who didn’t mind swallowing or taking it on their tits every once and

awhile, but Bea would have been perfectly happy to bathe in the stuff.  She

detested condoms and it’s no coincidence that soon after we really started

dating, she rushed us both down to get tested.  She hadn’t had a guy bareback in

over a year (not coincidently, since becoming friends with Xiomara), and was

quite desperate.

The other thing that stands out in my memory is that she also really liked anal

sex, something I hadn’t even brought up with a woman since my first wife once

kicked me out of the bedroom for even suggesting that we might consider trying

it.  Though it didn’t become my favorite thing to do, it was at least something

new and different.

But our relationship wasn’t all day in and day out sex.  Dating a single mom

always has its complications, even when you have Grandma around to babysit.

Beatriz always insisted on dedicating most weekends during the day to doing

things with her kids, though she did start inviting me along on occasion after

the first few weeks.

Given that Friday nights were invariably dedicated to hitting the clubs with the

other Mosqueteras, this left Saturday nights as our big date night.  Of course

we would see each other during the week as well, but again Beatriz strongly

preferred to be home to give her kids dinner and put them to bed.

As a result, we ended up starting to meet for lunch a couple of times a week,

when we could both break away from work at about the same time.  It turned out

that both my office and her gallery were within walking distance of one of the

main plazas, though in opposite directions, so it quickly became our custom to

meet under a particular statue and then hit one of the nearby restaurants.

Occasionally we would be joined by Xiomara, Sandra or my co-worker Diego, but

usually it was just the two of us and it was when we did most of our talking.

I did get a kick out of the fact that no one watching us would ever imagine that

the beautiful classy looking young women in the conservative dress elegantly

smoking a cigarette over her after-lunch coffee was telling the rather staid

looking young businessmen next to her about how much fun it had been to dress up

in black leather and whip some naked slobbering fool in an Amsterdam B&D club;

or the time at a party where her husband had her lie naked on the dinner table

covered in food while 9 other people ate right off her body; or the time in a

swing club where he insisted they get together with a couple composed of a hot

young blonde and a pudgy middle-aged guy and it turned out that while the blonde

just lay there like a slab of meat,  the guy had a huge cock and fucked her like

a pro.  Whether the stories were 100% true or not, who’s to say, but they sure

spiced up a boring workday.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one getting worked up over lunch.  One night about

2 or 3 weeks after we returned from the beach, I was surprised to hear someone

knocking on my apartment door sometime after 10 pm.  I opened up to find a

vision standing there leaning against the wall wearing a jet black pageboy

haircut, heavy glossy make-up, a corset, garter belt, stockings and platform

fuck-me heels.  As I stood there open-mouthed, the vision took a drag from a

long white cigarette, exhaled into my face and said in a sultry voice, “I

understand that someone here needs my help.”

“Help?  Uh, with what”

At which point she reached down and gently cupped my cock between her long blood

red fingernails before replying, “With this”

She proceeded to gently pushed me ahead of her back into the apartment and up

against a wall, shut the door behind her, threw a purse and what turned out

later to be a long raincoat on my couch.  She then got down on her knees in

front of me and pulled down the Dockers shorts I was wearing.  A second later my

rock hard cock was in her warm mouth.  She proceeded to play my cock as if it

were an instrument, driving me repeatedly almost to completion, before backing

off just in time to slowly take another drag from her cigarette while waiting

for me to calm down a bit and then repeating the process.  This went on until I

couldn’t take it any longer and I finally just grabbed her head and fucked her

face until I filled her mouth with cum.

As soon as I came down from my high, I saw that she had fallen back on the floor

and was lying there panting loudly with her eyes closed.  I immediately

regretted having treated her so roughly.  But as I dropped to my knees to

apologize, it was her turn to grab my head and thrust it up between her legs on

to her hot wet cunt.  It seemed like I had barely started lapping away when she

went into spasms and yelled out her own climax.

Afterwards, we both just collapsed there on my rug breathing heavily.  After a

few minutes, she finally stirred and picking herself up off the floor, took her

purse and went into my bathroom without saying a word.

I managed to pull myself up on to the couch, wondering what the hell had just

happened; to the background noise of Jay Leno beginning his monologue on the TV

I had been watching in the bedroom.

Several minutes later, Bea came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and

carrying a wet washcloth.  She proceeded to kneel down in front of me and gently

wash all the red lipstick marks off my cock, while nervously avoiding me eyes.

She had taken off what must have been a wig and most of her make-up.  In fact

the only sign that this was the same woman was her blood red fingernails.

I finally lifted up her chin and simply said, “Thank you.”

She blushed and asked, “You liked?”

I answered by giving her a long soft kiss and we ended up cuddling and making

out on the couch.  Being a weeknight, she couldn’t stay too long and eventually

I walked her out to her car, after loaning her a T-shirt and some sweatpants

that she had to roll up.  It was only after she left that I stumbled across her

cigarette which had fallen at some point in the proceeding.  Liliana always did

wonder where that cigarette burn mark on the rug had come from.

That was certainly not the first time Beatriz surprised me with a late night

midweek surprise visit, but it was the most memorable.  It was also when I

discovered just how much Beatriz liked to role-play.

Of course our relationship wasn’t always quite that erotic.  Most of our

Saturday date nights involved simply going out to eat or if we were really

tired, picking up take-out on the way over to my apartment.  Usually after a

long Friday night partying at the club, we weren’t up to too much excitement the

next evening anyway.  Besides, what she was clearly much more interested in

leaving as much time for sex as possible.

Of course there were exceptions when we did take our games elsewhere.  Probably

the most memorable took place maybe a month after that first late night visit to

my apartment and it also involved some role-playing and a wig.

Ever since Beatriz had told me about whoring herself out while waiting to get

her hands on her husband’s assets, I had been curious about the subject.  I had

certainly never considered paying a whore before coming to this country.  And

though I no longer assumed all prostitutes were beaten down streetwalkers, the

way Bea made fun of her former clients, calling them “cocks with wallets”, made

paying for sex seem even more unimaginable.  But that didn’t keep me from being

curious, and at various times I asked Beatriz questions about where she had

picked up guys and how the whole thing worked.

So I probably shouldn’t have been surprised when one Saturday afternoon in early

September, I got a phone call from Beatriz in which she started out by asking,

“You know the Excelsiior Hotel downtown?”

“Yes of course.” It was a nice looking 4-star establishment smack in the middle

of the hotel district known for having a ground floor bar that was primarily a

place for men to pick up high class hookers.  It also happened to be the place

that Beatriz had worked out of when she dabbled in the business (and where my

future wife Liliana was to whore herself out beginning a month or so later,

though of course I didn’t know that at the time).

“Good.  Be there at the bar tonight at 9:00 pm and the “puta” of your dreams

will be there for you.”

I immediately felt a quiver of excitement.  Beatriz was clearly up to one of her

role-plays and this one sounded like a doozy.

I heard her ask, “”Esta bien?” and realized I hadn’t yet said anything so I

quickly agreed to be at the designated spot.

I got to the place a little early and after looking around and not seeing

Beatriz, took a stool at the bar and ordered a beer.  The place was crowded with

what must have been about 30 to 40 women and at least half that number of men.

Most of the women were sitting around against the walls chatting with each other

while looking appraisingly at the men, particularly those who were

unaccompanied.  The rest were sitting with guys either at the bar or at tables

off to the side.

The women came in all ages, shapes and sizes from cute young girls who were

probably not yet 20 to a few well preserved women who looked like they could

easily be closer to 40.  There was also a considerable range in attractiveness,

from the spectacularly good looking to the relatively ordinary, though there

were none that one would consider outright unattractive.

I was interested to note that though most of the women were dressed nicely, even

the most daring were not wearing anything beyond the pale of what you would

normally see in any bar or club on a Saturday night.  In fact, if I hadn’t known

so ahead of time, it would not have been obvious that they were prostitutes.

As for the men, they were mostly foreigners dressed rather informally; a lot of

Khaki pants or jeans and polo shirts, which made sense given that it was a

Saturday.  Perhaps the most surprising thing about them was how many looked to

be about my age or younger.  Somehow I had expected all the clients to be in

their 40’s and 50’s, but this was clearly not the case.

Though several girls tried to catch my eyes, it was at least 10 minutes before a

dark haired girl came up to me and asked if I wanted some company.  She was

clearly either drunk or stoned, and I could see several of the other women

giving her a disapproving look.  Clearly this was not a place where the whores

were expected to be aggressive.  In any case, as soon as I told her I was

waiting for someone, she simply backed off with a smile.

After I had been there a full 20 minutes with no sign of Beatriz, I really

needed to use the restroom, so I asked the guy next to me, who seemed to be

absorbed in an NBA game on the big screen TV, if he could watch my drink.  As I

came out of the restroom into the lobby of the hotel I noticed a girl sitting

over on a couch seemingly underlining something in a book.  Since she had the

same body type as Beatriz and as I couldn’t see her face, I decided to walk over

and make sure it wasn’t my date, though I couldn’t imagine why Bea would be

reading out in the lobby.

She must have sensed me coming, because she looked up at me and after giving me

an appraising look, burst out with a really beautiful smile.  She was dressed

quite attractively in a classy short dress and suede pumps, but was clearly

someone I had never seen before.

We both started to talk at the same time and then went silent waiting for the

other one to speak.  I finally managed to explain that I had mistaken her for

someone else.  She smiled regretfully and noted, “And I’m waiting for someone.

But maybe another time?” As I turned around to leave, I noticed that it what she

had been reading was a Psychology textbook.  I could remember people grabbing

moments to study in some pretty strange places when I was in college, but this

was a new one.

I had only been back in the bar for a couple of minutes, when I noticed a

stirring off to my right.  A spectacularly good looking woman wearing a short

tight spandex dress had walked in; clearly one of the daring outfits in the

place, without being beyond the pale.  It was only when she sat at the bar

across from me that I realized that this time it really was Beatriz.  The reason

why I hadn’t recognized her right off had been that she had almost white hair in

a cut that reminded me of the pop singer Blondie.  She had obviously paid

another visit to her friend who ran the wig and costume shop in the building

across the street from her gallery.

Bea was almost immediately approached by a rather well dressed Latino guy and

ended up letting him lead her to the bar across from me.  She caught my eye and

motioned for me to stay put.  He bought her a drink and then I watched as she

began to flirt quite outrageously with him.  It was clear that she had fully

reeled him in when he leaned down and whispered something in her ear to which

she laughed while running a fingernail up his chest.  Just as I started to

wonder if she was actually going to let herself get picked up, she started

shaking her head with a regretful smile on her face while motioning towards me.

The guy gave me an envious glance and then reached into his jacket and gave her

a business card.  She responded by planting a quick full lipped kiss on his

cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that was visible from where I was sitting.

She stood up and gradually made her away around the bar to my side.  Everyone’s

eyes followed her as she approached me and after giving me a similar kiss on the

cheek sat down on the stool right next to me.

She then smiled seductively and asked, “Do you want some company?”

I laughed, “Sure, but it looks like that guy over there is not too happy about

you leaving him.”

Breaking out of her role momentarily, she noted, “I got his card and you can bet

I would have had him later if I had wanted to.  I had forgotten how much fun

that could be.”

I bought her a drink and we continued to flirt for awhile as she demonstrated

her skills, very effectively I must say.  Beatriz could certainly be the

seductress when she wanted to.

I think we were both getting turned on and after a while I decided that it was

my turn to surprise her.  I asked, “Do you think you might want to come to my

room with me.”

Looking confused, she asked, “Your room?”

When I showed her my key card, she smiled in appreciation and answered, “Perhaps

I could accompany you to your room, if there were a little gift involved.”

“How much of a gift?”

“For you, $100 would be sufficient.”

I immediately reached for my wallet, but she stopped me, saying “Not here,

silly.”

“I know that, but I do have to pay for our drinks.”

After paying my bill at the bar, I moved to escort her towards the elevators,

but she stopped me once we entered the lobby and let me over to a nearby

counter.  She then handed over her ID to a hotel guy standing there and he asked

me for my room number.  It was only as he started writing down her name, that he

suddenly looked up in surprise, at which Bea burst out into laughter while

saying, “Manuel, has it been that long that you don’t recognize me.”

He burst into a big smile while rounding the counter to give her a hug, while

saying, “Mi Palomita, I never expected to see you here again.  Didn’t you come

into some money from that “hijo de puta” (SOB) husband of yours?”

Bea explained that she was just there for fun, “for old times sake” and they

went on to ask each other about their respective kids.

I was still pretty aroused and I guess my impatience was noticeable, as Manuel

finally suggested that Bea go take care of her “client” and drop by later to

chat some more.

As soon as the elevator door’s closed, Bea turned to me and gave me a long

passionate kiss that practically had me coming in my pants.  I literally dragged

her behind me in my rush down the hallway to my room.

As soon as the door was closed behind us, I practically threw her on the bed.

After Bea fell on her back laughing, she pulled up her short dress over her

hips, and then spread her knees so that I could see her moist shaved cunt though

her lacey transparent panties.  But as I started to follow her on to the bed,

she suddenly covered herself with one hand and asked, “Aren’t you forgetting

something?”

When I looked at her in confusion, Bea held out her other hand palm up and I got

the message.  I fumbled to get my wallet out of my jeans and managed to pull out

and give her five 20’s.  She slipped these in her purse, quickly pulled off her

dress and then lay back down with her legs spread again, clearly open for

business.  She had never looked more like a real centerfold than in that moment.

Meanwhile, I had been rapidly taking off my own clothes.  As soon I was naked, I

crawled up between her legs desperate to start licking that juicy cunt.  But

once again she stopped me, saying, “Just fuck me; treat me like your puta.”

Well, if that’s what she wanted, who was I to refuse?  I climbed up between her

invitingly open legs and buried myself inside her in one hard thrust.  God was

she tight and hot.  As she urged me on I started pounding away much harder than

I ever had before.  This seemed to send her right over the edge, as she started

shaking her head back and forth while chanting, “cojeme como una puta” (fuck me

like a whore) and “así, así, así” (like that).  Her hips were moving back and

forth with incredible speed as she thrust back at me just as hard as I was

pounding into her, to point where I was actually a bit sore the next day.  But

at the time, it felt incredible and I literally lost track of everything else

until I finally exploded into the back of her cunt.

Afterwards I felt like I had been run over by a freight train as I collapsed on

the bed beside her.  I finally looked over and noticed she still had her legs

open with her knees up and was slowly playing with the cum leaking out of her

pussy.  She had this dreamy look on her face as she explained, “It feels so

strange to be full of a guy’s milk in one of these rooms.  I never dared when I

was working here.”  She then turned over and gave me a big kiss, before

continuing, “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to experience this.”

She had just given me the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life and she was

thanking me?

Later, after we showered together and I ordered a snack from room service, I set

out to show her just how grateful I was by leisurely lapping up my desert from

between her legs.  I think I practically drove her crazy by keeping her on edge

for a good 30 to 45 minutes before finally letting her cum.  Going down on a

girl as visibly responsive as Bea, is always a delight.  Later, when it was

finally time for me to drive her home before her kids woke up; she spent an

inordinate amount of time with her make-up in front of the bathroom mirror.  She

usually tended not to care so much once our fun and games were over, given that

she would just have to take it all back off as soon as she got home.  When I

asked her about it, Bea explained that she couldn’t very well walk through the

lobby looking any less spectacular than she had when she arrived.  After all,

“Paloma” had an image to keep up.  She also never did offer to give me my money

back, so I guess I had broken my rule of never paying for sex.  But it had been

more than worth it.

Though I’ve only described in detail a couple of our encounters, there were

several others that were equally as hot as Bea led me through a smorgasbord of

sexual experiences.  This is how I learned, among other things, that while I

enjoyed taking her up the ass, it wasn’t my favorite; that light bondage only

did something for me when she was the one being tied up; and that spanking her

until her ass glowed red turned me on more because of her explosive reaction

than from the actual act itself.  My take is that she got a kick out of guiding

me, much the way her ex had guided her through opening her sexual horizons; with

the key difference being that she never pushed me into something I didn’t want

to do.

Given all this, you’d think that I’d have been incredibly happy with Beatriz.

But as the weeks went by, I started feeling vaguely dissatisfied.  In

retrospect, though Beatriz was keeping my cock happier than it had ever been, I

found that I started getting bored with her when we were not having sex.

Hearing her go on endlessly about her kids and the art scene started getting

more than a bit repetitive.  Even incredible sex can get a bit old if it’s not

accompanied by something more.  It might have been different if we had been

falling in love, but neither of us had any illusions about that.  In many ways,

1999 for me was all about discovering the limits of fantasy.

PART 6:  THE LAW OF ENTROPY

Despite the fact that I was beginning to have some misgivings, things seemed to

be moving along smoothly until one Saturday night in what must have been late

September, when Beatriz switched things up at the club.  We had gone on Saturday

that weekend because of a Ricardo Arjona concert (at least I think it was

Arjona) that the women had wanted to go to that Friday.

Bea let herself be monopolized on the dance floor by this muscular black guy

(who admittedly was also a fantastic dancer).  I don’t know if it was an

unconscious response to this or what, but I in turn started paying particular

attention to this cute little college aged bottle blonde, whose spectacular

tight little ass was almost irresistible.  The girl had been around on previous

nights and had been quite blatant about showing her interest in me.   I had

danced with her a few times, but had not let it go farther than that.  This

night was to be different and without really realizing how I got there, I

suddenly found myself in a corner making out with her.  Having regained my

sanity, I gently excused myself and returned to our table where Xiomara and

Sandra gave me amused looks as the former gently wiped some of the blonde’s

lipstick off the corner of my mouth.  Bea on the other hand, looked so wrapped

up in her dance partner that it gave me hope that she might not have noticed.

No such luck.  As we were getting ready to leave, Beatriz suddenly walked over

to the table where the girl was sitting with her friends and talked to her for a

bit.  The girl had looked real apprehensive at first, but was all smiles by the

time Bea came back over to join us and I had to ask her what was up.

Of course I don’t remember the exact words we used, but I’ll never forget the

conversation, so the following is a pretty good approximation.

I asked, “What did you tell her?”

Beatriz smiled and answered, “I told her that she could go home with you

tonight, but it was only for this one time.”

When I started to protest, she interrupted, “I know you want to fuck her.  I

would if I were a guy.  Anyone can see that she’s ripe, ready for the taking”.

“But what about you?”

She responded as if were the most natural thing in the world, “Don’t worry about

me.  I’m going home with him,” as she nodded towards where the black guy was

waiting discreetly by the entranceway.

I tried to protest, as for all the games we had played, we had never involved

others.  But she cut in to say, “It’s only for this one night.  I’m not breaking

up with you.”

I’m sure I looked totally shocked as I watcher her walk away.  Then when she

hesitated and turned back towards me I hoped for a moment that it had all been a

joke.  But all she asked was, “What time are you picking us up tomorrow?”

I must have looked confused, because she clarified, “You know, to take the kids

to the amusement park”

I responded rather automatically, “At about noon?”

She nodded in pleasant agreement, gave me a nice longish kiss and headed off to

get fucked.

I must have stood there looking stunned for some time, until Xiomara nudged me

and said, “We’re leaving now.  Are you coming or are you staying?”

When I looked at her blankly, she nodded towards the bottle blonde who had

clearly been following the action and had a hopeful look on her face.

Suddenly feeling a bit angry, I decided on the spot, “I think I’ll stay.”

Clearly approving of my decision, Xiomara simply said, “Mejor así” (better that

way).  And then of course, being Xiomara, she had to add, “You do still have

condoms?”

I only nodded in the affirmative.  I knew I still had a box in my bathroom

cabinet somewhere.

Xiomara then gave me a pretty hot kiss of her own, before whispering, “Don’t

worry about Bea, she’s just feeling hemmed in a little, but she’ll come around.”

And of course, given a little time to take in what was happening, I began to

understand why Beatriz had pulled her little switch.  I decided to shelve the

matter for future consideration as I had an eager young blonde to fuck; which is

exactly what I did that night.  It was pretty good too, except for the part

where I burst into laughter when I first saw the Tasmanian Devil tattooed on to

that tight little ass.

By the next day when I picked up Beatriz and her kids, I was feeling a little

more put out again.  After all, she could have talked it over with me ahead of

time.  At least she looked a bit apprehensive.

It was a couple of hours before we finally had a chance to talk when her 10 year

old daughter took her little boy on a ride for smaller kids.  As we sat on a

bench waiting for them, she asked rather timidly, “Are you really angry with

me?”

“A little bit.  Though we never said we wouldn’t be with others, at least we

could have talked it over ahead of time.”

“I know, I’m really sorry about that.  It was kind of impulsive.  It’s just that

I had to find out if the stereotypes are true.”

“Which sterotypes?”

“That black guys have larger cocks and that guys who are good dancers are also

good at sex.”

“So, what did you find out?”

Looking gloomy, she responded, “No and No.”

I mused, “It probably wasn’t a fair test.  He looked like the type who probably

takes steroids.”

That got an ironic laugh out of her.

Thinking back over her stories about her past experiences, I had to ask, “Didn’t

you fuck black guys in Amesterdam?”

She blushed while replying, “Once, a big African guy.  But that was on a stage.

Of course he was big.”

By this time we were both in much better spirits so when she asked about the

blonde, I responded truthfully, “A lot of enthusiasm, but no finesse.”

It suddenly felt like we were back to normal.  That impression seemed to be

confirmed when she actually accepted dropping her kids off with her mother and

coming back to my apartment (unusual for a Sunday afternoon).  The sex that

afternoon was really good as I surprised myself by getting off on the idea that

her pussy had just been fucked by another cock a few hours earlier.  I had

always been kind of turned on by the fact that Beatriz kept wanting me to fuck

her even after having been with so many other guys in her past, and I guess it

carried over to guys in her present as well.

Over the next few days I gradually realized that things were definitely not back

to normal.  Sure, the next weekend at the club we returned to our routine, to

the disappointment of the young blonde.  But clearly I wasn’t the only one

having misgivings as Beatriz was looking increasingly troubled.

I think it was the following weekend that Beatriz and Xiomara seemed to get into

an intense conversation at the club.  After a while they both excused themselves

and walked outside, clearly needing to talk without having to shout over the

music.  When they didn’t come back relatively soon, I finally went and peaked

out the door.  They were both pacing back and forth in front of each other

smoking with intense nervous motions.  From the body language, Beatriz seemed to

be insisting on something, while Xiomara was shaking her head in denial, though

clearly without much conviction.

After awhile they came back in arm in arm and I was glad to see that they seemed

to have resolved their disagreement.  But neither one was much in the partying

mood that night.  Beatriz looked kind of sad but determined, while Xiomara kept

giving me these rather uncertain thoughtful glances.

The mystery was resolved later that night after Beatriz and I had enjoyed a

relatively low key fuck.  She suddenly sat up cross-legged and announced with

tearful eyes that this would have to be out last time as she didn’t think it was

right for us to continue sleeping with each other.  Seeing my confusion, she

explained quite succinctly, “I like you, but Xiomara could really love you.”

Naturally I protested that it was Xiomara whom had gotten us together in the

first place, and in fact she had stopped having sex with me again once it was

clear that Beatriz and I were trying to make a go of it.  But Beatriz insisted

that she had finally realized that Xiomara had only done that because she felt

she wasn’t available to give herself completely to me.  In Xiomara’s strange

mind, since she couldn’t have me and she thought I deserved a good woman and

that Beatriz, especially after her experience with her ex, needed a good man,

the logical thing to do was to hook us up with each other.  Of course the real

world doesn’t work like that as we were all discovering to our regret.  Though I

might not have noticed anything, Beatriz insisted that seeing us together was

hurting our friend, which is why she seemed to be avoiding us outside of the

nights at the club.  “Besides,” she concluded, “the two of you are much more

suited to each other.”

I have to admit that I wasn’t as surprised as I could have been at Beatriz

wanting to break things off.  She had never disguised the fact that she was not

interesting in tying herself to any one man.  But I was stunned to hear that

Xiomara might feel more for me than just good friendship.

PART 7: XIOMARA

After mulling it over for a few days, I finally tired to pin Xiomara down on the

subject one evening at my apartment when I invited her to come over to pick up a

book she had been asking to borrow.  Of course, I didn’t come right out and ask

her if she was falling in love with me.  Instead I started out by just noting

that I had missed our talks and wondered how she was doing.

One thing led to another, and a few beers later she broke down and ended up

sobbing on my shoulder (the only time I ever saw her cry).  I won’t try to

repeat here the details of what we discussed – it was way too personal even

given the anonymity of the internet – but for the first time she really opened

up and I realized that perhaps she wasn’t so tough after all.  Maybe it was the

fact that she was approaching 30, but she was clearly depressed to still be

doing the mistress thing.  It wasn’t that she minded the Italian so much, but

what was getting to her was that it also meant that even when she met a nice guy

with whom she could see settling down with, she had to let him go.  Though

Xiomara never tied this directly to me, it was pretty clear that I was one of

those nice guys she was referring to.  The whole evening was quite a revelation

– this was not a woman who normally moped around feeling sorry for herself.

Xiomara ended up on my bed curled into fetal position, clearly completely wrung

out.  So after pulling off my own clothes except for my underwear, I curled up

behind her, pulled the bedspread on top of us and held her as she fell asleep.

I woke in the morning to find that I was still spooning her from behind, but

that she was now stark naked.  Furthermore I had a boner poking between her

legs.  When I tried to pull away, she immediately turned over and hugged me up

against her body face to face.  That morning was the first time I actually made

love to Xiomara.  Sure we had fucked plenty of times, but this was different and

I think we both knew it.  It was also the first time we didn’t use a condom (not

intentionally on my part – it’s just that I had gotten used to not needing one

with Bea) and the fact that she didn’t ask me to get one is quite telling in its

own way.  Certainly, I felt something special about finally filling her up with

my cum.

Therefore, I was quite upset when she seemed to go out of her way to avoid me

over the following week, even to the point where she called off club night.  In

retrospect it makes complete sense.  She was not a woman used to showing any

vulnerability and probably didn’t know how to handle what had happened.  But at

the time I was quite upset.  Finally in desperation I called Sandra and gave her

an abbreviated account.

A couple of days later, Xiomara suddenly called me at the office and after

asking if I could break away early that afternoon, suggested I go pick her up

when she got out of her Tae Kwan Do class at 5:00.  I was quite surprised for

many reasons, but one of them was that she had never wanted me to come by her

gym or martial arts school because the Italian had signed her up for both and

they knew him as her boyfriend.

Because I was curious to see her in class, I made a point of getting there a

half hour early.  When I walked in, there were about a half dozen women in the

room wearing white uniforms, chest pads with a large circle on them and green or

blue belts.  Their Korean instructor was standing off to the side watching.

Looking around, I spotted Xiomara warming up against a wall at about the same

time she saw me.  She frowned momentarily, but then gave me a little nod towards

where another guy was standing near the door watching.  I guess she wasn’t too

upset at the fact that I had arrived early.

The instructed started by pairing off the women and each duo took turns sparing

with each other.  Xiomara was wearing a blue belt, which I figured was probably

pretty advanced since she had been studying the discipline off and on for a few

years going back to Italy.  She was matched up against a slightly shorter, but

clearly more muscular woman wearing the same color belt.

I didn’t know much about the sport, but it was actually kind of interesting to

watch, seeming to involve a lot of fast footwork and sudden kicks aimed at the

opponents chest.  When it was her turn, Xiomara came out extremely aggressive

seeming to overwhelm her opponent.  The other girl had her hands full just

trying to block these attacks and never managed to counter during the minute or

so the fight seemed to last, before another pair rotated in to take their place.

With her black hair in a pony tail poking out the back of her helmet, and a cool

determined look in her eyes; Xiomara looked like some kind of Mayan warrior

princess.  It took me a moment to make the connection and realize that the last

time I had seen her look like that was in a parking lot in front of Galaxia

several months earlier.  I somehow doubted that her instructor would have

approved at that particular use of her training.  Not that she had done much

kicking that night, what with the 3-inch spike heeled pumps she had been

wearing.

In Xiomara’s next fight, she was up against the same opponent, who this time

tried to attack from the beginning.  Xiomara easily blocked a flurry of kicks,

and then with an fast spinning move managed to smack the other woman right in

this middle of the target on her chest, sending her flying on to her back.

The instructor took Xiomara aside and gave her a long talk.  I wondered if she

wasn’t supposed to kick the other girl so hard in practice, but she didn’t seem

all that upset.  I also heard a neutral sounding grunt from right next to me and

turned to see that another young woman had come in, this one wearing a black

belt.

The instructor seemed to see the woman standing next to me and called her over.

A little time later, Xiomara was out on the floor again, but this time facing

the black belt.

The guy who had been standing next to me finally spoke up, “This one should be

good.”  When I asked him why, he explained that the black belt was actually the

national champion and had competed internationally, while Xiomara was a natural

who never gave up.

This time they both came out aggressively and it was a wonder to watch.  It was

obvious where Xiomara’s dance training helped with her footwork, but the other

woman was simply too good and seemed to get a kick through to her chest pad 2 or

3 times.  This didn’t seem to faze Xiomara at all, as she just looked more

determined and right before the end, she managed to sneak a kick through her

opponent’s defenses and hit her chest pad with a loud smack.

As soon as the instructor stepped in to end the round, Xiomara bowed to her

opponent and then after ripping off her helmet, walked over towards me with

satisfied smile on her face.  I suddenly realized that she had never looked

sexier than she did right then in that bulky uniform with sweat running down her

face and that glow of triumph in her eyes.  Maybe it was the sharp contrast to

the last time I had seen her, curled up on my bed in abject misery.  Whatever

the reason, I hardly resisted when she came up and grabbed me, pulled my head

down within reach and gave me a long passionate open mouthed kiss to the hoots

of her classmates.

After that, there wasn’t much more to say.  Oh, I did take her over to a café

once she had showered and dressed.  She came out looking like a million dollars

in high heeled boots, skin tight jeans, a skimpy army green tank top and more

make-up than usual for her.  Once we had settled down and got served, she did

get around to explaining that she was finally tired of holding back and that I’d

better watch out because now I was hers.  But it really wasn’t necessary; the

kiss had said it all.

So for the first time, Xiomara and I actually started acting like a real couple,

or at least we did during the three weeks each month the Italian guy wasn’t

around.  It was difficult of course, particularly since Xiomara had no idea how

to be a girlfriend.  But I kept putting my foot down at the slightest sign that

she was reverting to her bad habits from the first time we had dated, and she at

least tried.  For my part, I tried to adjust to the existence of the Italian.

It helped that she no longer seemed so paranoid about being seen with me.  When

I asked her about this, she explained that the Italian already knew that I was

her friend and didn’t consider me a threat (Great – just what you want to here

from your girl!).  She went on to explain that he wouldn’t think anything of it

if word got back to him that she had been seen around town with me.

We began to toss about ideas on how she could break off with him and still meet

her obligations.  While she had over a year of grad school to go, I figured I

could afford the relatively inexpensive tuition they charge here, particularly

if she got a job to cover her expenses.  The real problem was her family back

home.  Though dollars went a long way in Nicaragua back in those days (when the

dollar was actually worth something), her mother’s care alone was beyond my

financial capability given the salary I was earning at that relatively early

point in my career.  So we never did come up with a solution.

Up to this point in our friendship, Xiomara had usually preferred to visit my

apartment rather than have me hang out at hers.  She certainly avoided having

other men in the bed “paid for” by the Italian.  Of course, I knew were she

lived since it was not too far from my own and I had dropped by on occasion,

usually to pick her up or drop her off, but rarely had been invited in to spend

any amount of time.  Xiomara was quite rigorous in keeping to her own (rather

unusual) code of behavior.  She considered that since the Italian was paying for

her apartment and for her time when he was in town, she would do nothing to

disrespect him by violating either condition.

As I’ve also noted, Xiomara had tended to keep her social life separated into

two.  I was in the part reserved for her true friends, along with the other

Mosqueteras.  But she also had an entire set of other contacts and friends in

the local arts, business and expat communities, who knew her as the Italian’s

woman.

Now that our relationship was out in the open, Xiomara did start relaxing her

rules by integrating me much more into the rest of her social life.

As I explained in another e-mail to Chicho:

(Extracted from e-mail dated Nov 19, 1999)

One of the nice things about being back with Xiomara, this time as more than

just a friend, is that I now get invited to some pretty interesting parties.

Given that she’s only been in (this country) for about a year and a half, she

knows an amazingly wide variety of people through her involvement in the

cultural scene, even if she only has a few really close friends (primarily

Beatriz and Sandra).

Perhaps the most notable was also the smallest.  About a month ago Xiomara

hosted a dinner party involving a really unusual mix of guests, including a

visiting older Canadian former missionary couple whom she’d met years ago while

hitchhiking in Nicaragua; a laid back German guy about my age who runs a car

rental agency and turned out to be an avowed atheist; the Belgian mother and

daughter who live next door, whom I wrote you about last summer; and finally

Sandra and her latest sex partner, a well known former national team soccer

player who now works as an engineer.

The Canadian missionary guy cracked jokes all evening, getting into a good

natured needling contest with the German, mostly over religion, before moving on

to soccer so as to include Sandra’s date; who fortunately turned out to also

have a good sense of humor.

But the surprise of the evening were the Belgians, as the mother didn’t hesitate

to explain what she was doing for a living despite the fact that her daughter

was sitting right there.  Initially she brought in up in response to a question

from the Canadian woman and just tossed it out there almost daring someone to

criticize her choices, while sending Xiomara a challenging glance. Clearly our

host had started preaching at her once again about the evils of prostitution.

The Canadian woman on the other hand sounded surprisingly non-judgmental, and at

her prompting, the Belgian mother continued in a much friendlier tone to explain

the in and outs of her business and exactly why she was working as an escort.  I

guess the Canadians were the right kind of liberal Anglicans.

Though all of this, many of us were glancing in curiosity over at the girl.  But

she didn’t react much at all, beyond stealing a cigarette out of her mother’s

pack and lighting it up while continuing to look rather bored.  Clearly some

things had changed in that household in the aftermath of Zayda’s visit, not the

least of which was the fact that the girl was practically unrecognizable wearing

the latest in current skimpy teen fashion and a rather garish belly button ring.

But interestingly enough, when the soccer player finally expressed some mild

disapproval, it was the daughter who jumped in to defend her mother.

Fortunately the conversation moved on to the less sensitive topic of the girl’s

upcoming PSATs and college plans.  It was almost a relief to see that contrary

to outward appearances, the girl hadn’t lost her aspirations for the future.

Meanwhile, the Canadian woman had taken the mother off to one side they were in

a deep conversation that had both of them on the verge of tears.

Don’t ask me how, but this weird combination of people seemed to work and the

conversation was pretty fascinating for the rest of the evening.

One result of that dinner is that I ended up hanging out quite a bit with the

German guy.  Everyone here calls him Jorge because no one can pronounce his real

name.  He’s a laid back intellectual with a quirky sense of humor and a kind of

quiet charisma that seems to attract women.  He’s quite definitely not your

stereotypical German, having initially come over to Nicaragua to “help” with the

recovery effort after the revolution. Becoming disenchanted with the

Sandinistas, he bummed around Latin America for a couple of years painting

pictures until he finally ran out of money and settled down here with the car

rental job.

Jorge is currently separated from an old friend of Xiomara’s going back to when

they overlapped with the National Dance Company.  The two originally met and

dated when he was living in Nicaragua and once he nailed down the car rental

job, he went back to marry her and bring her here.

The reason for the separation is that he’s pissed off because she lied to him

about having danced in a night club back in Managua during the couple of years

he was bumming around the hemisphere.  He assumes, probably correctly, that she

had whored herself out to some of the clients.

((NOTE:  In parts of Latin America, the term “night-club” refers to anything

from a strip bar to a cabaret – with the common denominator being that someone

(whether male or female) is taking off their clothes for the audience.  Most of

them are basically strip-bars – and whorehouses in some cases – though there are

a few that actually put on real floor shows)).

To compound the problem, Felicia is currently the headline act at the ritziest

night club in town.  She went out for the job after the separation when she got

pissed off about his attitude (a miscalculation of major proportions on her

part).

Xiomara insists that Felicia wants him back and had only started dancing again

after they separated as she stubbornly refused to take any of his money.  In

fact, the main reason she invited him to that dinner is that she promised

Felicia to try to bring him around and it was at her suggestion that I called

him a few days later to see if he wanted to get together to watch a soccer game

and have a few beers.  My instructions were to convince him to go see his wife

perform, both so that he could see how good she was, but also that the club was

not nearly as slimy as he imagined.

The problem for me is that I’m not very sympathetic to Jorge’s point of view.

Whatever Felicia did to survive, I’m not sure where he comes off criticizing

her.  Was she supposed to get by for two years off the odd postcard from Cuzco

or the Iguazú Falls?

Despite my encouragement, Jorge kept agonizing over whether to go see Felicia

perform without really coming to a decision.  Finally, Xiomara got fed up and

offered to go along with us if he wanted.  This was actually a major concession

on Xiomara’s part because she really loathes night clubs.  She had always

refused to dance in one even though at times it could have been a solution to

her economic problems.  It’s not that Xiomara is inhibited about showing off her

body; because that’s the one thing she is not.  Rather its that she takes

dancing very seriously, talking about it almost as if it were something sacred.

To her, a night club is a perversion of what it means to be a dancer.  This all

goes back to the Comandante who used to take her along with  him to the various

night clubs in Managua.  The first time, Xiomara got so upset she ended up

vomiting in the bathroom.

But of course, Xiomara’s loyalty to her friends comes before her personal

discomfort, so a couple of weeks ago the three of us went to see Felicia

perform.  Right from the beginning it was clear that her set was actually quite

good, something of an imitation of the better European cabarets. Felicia clearly

aimed the show right at her husband, in what was a very effective combination of

seduction and contrition.  I found the performance to be amazing, all the more

because it came from genuine emotion.  Though at various times she flashed her

tits and pussy, this was a long ways from being a simple bump and grind.  Even

Xiomara had to grudgingly admit that it was kind of beautiful.  It was certainly

funny to watch Jorge’s face get redder and redder as he realized what was going

on.  I later made a point of pointing out how in this particular high class

club, the dancers only had to sit and talk to customers between sets, with no

lap-dances or touching allowed.

The whole plan seemed to be working when Jorge went back to the club twice more

on his own just to see his wife dance and actually bought her drinks so that she

could sit with him.  Xiomara was encouraged, noting that if he was willing to

pay for $20 drinks just to sit with his own wife, he was probably getting close

to forgiving the fact that she had lied about her past.  But I’m still not so

sure.  Unfortunately he also saw one of the dancers leave with a client crazy

enough to pay the exorbitant bar fine and though Felicia was quick to insist

that she herself, as the headline act, never had to leave with clients, he

didn’t sound so convinced when he told me about it.  He sure can come across as

the righteous German sometimes.  Well, we can only hope for the best.

(end of extract)

Unfortunately, in the end, the plan to get Jorge and Felicia back together did

not work.  I think he still loved her in a way, but simply couldn’t get the

image of her fucking a bunch of strangers for money out of his head.  When I

came back from the end of year holidays, Jorge told me that they were getting a

divorce.  I don’t really know what Felicia did after that, but frankly I felt a

lot more sympathy for her than for him. For my part, I gladly stopped hanging

around Jorge.

The whole episode did make me think about the fact that I had never gotten upset

over the fact that Xiomara and Beatriz not only had rather sordid pasts, but

were actually fucking others for at least part of the time they were seeing me.

For instance, what annoyed me about the Italian wasn’t that he was having sex

with my girlfriend, but rather that he seemed to have first dibs.

The Mosqueteras continued to hit the clubs for awhile, but it really wasn’t the

same after after I hooked up with Xiomara.  For one, the two of us made no

effort to disguise the fact that we were a couple; not that it was all that

obvious given Xiomara’s reluctance to show any affection in public.  But the

word did get around, which took some of their mystique away.  The fact that

watching Beatriz flirt and occasionally hook up with other guys didn’t bother me

is pretty telling in itself.  That certainly wasn’t the problem.  I think it was

more that the novelty wore off and our club nights gradually became much less

frequent as we moved towards the end of the year.

It didn’t help that there was a strain in the relationship between the three

women, which came about as another consequence of that dinner party.  It turned

out that one of the Belgian women’s clients was planning a return visit to the

country, this time with his two sons, and had asked her to line up a couple of

girls for them.  The client was in his 60’s and the sons were in their 30’s, so

he specified that he didn’t want just some young whores, but rather age

appropriate women of some class.  Without consulting Xiomara first, the Belgium

women had taken Sandra aside at the party and broached the subject.

Though Sandra had been successfully discouraged from trying her hand at

prostitution back at the beach in June, her financial situation remained

precarious.  She’d had to drop out of school and take a full time job.  As soon

as she heard that her share would be $1000 a day for four days, more than she

would make in 6 months at her current job, it was a done deal.

This time the other two Mosqueteras were not able to dissuade her.  I wasn’t

there, but according to Xiomara, Sandra had at one point pulled out her pocket

agenda where she had made a notation each time she had sex with a guy since

starting her spree.  She came up with over 30 different guys and asked her

friends if this really would be so different.  Xiomara sure thought so, but the

ever practical Bea came up with a solution: she would volunteer to be the second

girl, so that at least Sandra would not be on her own (as by this point Xiomara

wasn’t even speaking to her neighbor and none of them trusted her too much).

The Belgian woman wasn’t crazy, there was no way she was going to turn down a

chance to use Bea.

A couple of weeks later, I was lounging in Xiomara’s living room while the three

women were busy getting Sandra and Bea ready to go out to the airport with the

Belgian woman to meet the clients.  Though Xiomara still openly disapproved of

the plan, she had let them use her apartment rather than having to get ready

next door.  I had been a bit worried that they would have a problem in that both

sons would clearly prefer Bea, at least until they saw Sandra’s pussy.  But when

the Mosqueteras finally came out, I had to whistle.  By whatever magic they had

used, they had managed to make Sandra look almost as enticingly irresistible as

her friend.  If gorgeous classy women are what the client wanted, he was getting

more than his money’s worth.

After her friends left, Xiomara looked really sad.  She honestly felt that

Sandra had fallen into the trap of prostitution and was really worried about

her.  At the same time, she was pissed off at her two buddies.  She seemed to be

in a funk even after we went back to my place and made love.  Nothing I had said

seemed to work, so as we were lying naked on the bed, I started tracing my

fingers over her tattoo.  She followed my fingers for a moment and then mumbled,

“Uno para todos y todos para uno” (One for all and all for one).

I responded, “Damn right.  And by the way, I still insist these are the wrong

kind of swords.”

Xiomara groaned and promptly bopped me over the head with a pillow, to which I

of course had to respond in kind.  There’s little that a good pillow fight won’t

make better.

Of course, when our two friends returned four days later raving about the

experience, Xiomara didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad.  The way Sandra

kept waving around her wad of fifty 100 dollar bills, taking the nice tip as a

confirmation of the success of her first foray into the world of sex for pay,

made it clear that she had caught the bug.  And in fact, she went on to do two

more such assignments for the Belgian woman well spread out over the next few

months, sufficient to allow her to quit her job, finish grad school and have a

nice nest egg with which to start her real career.  But contrary to Xiomara’s

fears, Sandra never engaged in any other kind of prostitution (if she is to be

believed).

Beatriz’s reaction to the experience was much more sanguine.  She liked the

money and the sex, but had started missing her kids too much and had no interest

in ever leaving them for that long again.

Xiomara continued to spend time with the other two (both with and without me

along), but more likely than not it was just to meet at a café or bar and chat,

or hang around one of their homes.  The days of them strutting into the Galaxia

on their spike heels, flashing their matching tattoos from beneath their short

skirts, were over.

I did spent Christmas that year with Xiomara in Nicaragua, before continuing on

up to the States to spend the Millennium New Years with my family.  I thought it

was kind of funny the way she made me stay in a hotel and would not spend the

night with me.  But I guess she did have a reputation uphold in her home town,

particularly given what many people assumed young pretty single Nicaraguan girls

were doing abroad in those days.

I had rented a car and Xiomara did make quite a point of showing me off around

town, basically to counter rumors (which she insisted had been spread by the

Comandante) that she had become a prostitute.

At least I had a chance to finally meet Xiomara’s family as we tended to spend

most of the day over there when we weren’t seeing the sights of Managua and its

surroundings.  Her mother really did look like she was in pretty bad shape.  The

strokes had left her unable to talk, so the most I could do was tell her what a

wonderful daughter she had.  Her older sister looked like a plumper beaten down

version of Xiomara, but at least she was in a pretty good mood as she had just

gotten her first secretarial job (at the whopping salary of $90 a month), but

she knew that wouldn’t be enough money and was considering eventually sneaking

across the border into neighboring Costa Rica, the way half of Nicaragua seemed

to be doing at the time.  There she could earn at least twice as much plus room

and board working as a household maid or in a factory (and what a sign of the

times in Nicaragua that the daughter of a formally solid middle class family

would even be considering those jobs).  But since it would mean leaving her kids

with her ex-husband’s folks (whom had backed her up in the divorce), she wanted

to wait at least until the youngest entered high school the following year.  So

it sounded like that economic burden on Xiomara was not going to lessen all that

much in the short term.

I also met the infamous Comandante.  This last happened when Xiomara took me to

see a performance by the National Dance Company and he approached us during the

intermission.  He actually came across as a pretty friendly guy who seemed

genuinely glad that Xiomara had found someone, but then again he is a politician

of sorts, so take that for what its worth.  I looked it up and he currently has

a somewhat important (though not cabinet level) position in the current

Nicaraguan Government, now that the Sandinistas were voted back into power.  I

guess having run an escort service and whorehouse for awhile didn’t hurt his

long-term political career.

The most interesting part of that evening was the conversation I had with their

long time choreographer, a man who clearly felt an almost paternal affection

towards Xiomara.  The sad part was when he told me that she had clearly been the

most talented dancer in her generation and could have gone on to great things

well beyond Nicaragua if she hadn’t gotten injured.  But he followed that up by

looking at her impressive bust size and asked straight out if they were fake or

real.  When I assured him that they were real, he shook his head and said that

perhaps her future potential hadn’t been so bright after all.  I guess her boobs

grew quite a bit after she turned 18 and left the Company.

The funniest part was his description of her reaction to the infamous Contra

attack.  The way he described it, Xiomara had been so pissed off at being woken

up that she had started yelling curses and throwing pebbles at the attackers,

until one of the soldiers tackled her to the ground to get her out of the line

of fire, getting hit in the arm in the process.  This pissed her off even more

and ignoring the orders of the military guys with them, she grabbed up his

weapon and started firing short bursts roughly in the direction of the enemy

while continuing to cuss them out using language he’d never thought he’d hear

coming out of the mouth of a teenaged girl.  Now that certainly sounded much

more like the Xiomara I had come to know than Zayda’s overly heroic version of

the event.

Another funny moment came on the day of our arrival.  Or at least is was funny

to me though not so much for Xiomara.  It started at the airport back home when

she had lit up a cigarette and announced that it would be her last.  She didn’t

want to ruin her reputation back home as a health nut.  While it was true that

she had been able to sort of quit for the duration of Zayda’s visit, she really

hadn’t been smoking that much before then.  This time I had my doubts it would

be so easy, given that she had now been smoking at least a half a pack a day

regularly since July.

I started making bets with myself on how long she would hold out and I have to

give her credit.  We got all the way to Managua, dropped my stuff of at my hotel

and spent three hours in her house before she finally announced just as we

finished eating dinner that she wanted to take me to see a friend of hers.  Her

sister and the caretaker couldn’t understand why she just didn’t wait until the

next day, but I suspected that I did.  Sure enough, as soon as we got a few

blocks away, she directed me to stop at a small store.  She was in and out in a

flash and before I knew she was sitting next to me sucking desperately on a cig.

I couldn’t help but laugh, which got me a punch on the shoulder for my troubles.

After that, she made sure to space out our little excursions so that she could

get her fix when she needed it.

The one more negative note came when we dropped by to see Zayda where she was

living in her own small apartment (to our great surprise).  Xiomara had been

seriously considering my suggestion from the previous summer that she bring the

girl back with her and get her into counseling.  But from the moment she walked

in it was clear that Zayda still resented Xiomara for what happened earlier in

the year.  The first thing the girl did was defiantly light up a cigarette,

almost daring Xiomara to say something.  My girlfriend quickly took the winds

out of that little bit of rebellion by pulling her own cigs out of her purse and

lighting one up herself.  At least that cut short any silly stuff, though to be

honest; Zayda really did come across as much more focused and serious than I

remembered.  She was already 17 and was clearly set on finding her own way.  She

explained that she had hooked a Sugar Daddy of her own and he was paying for her

apartment, acting classes and had helped her land a role in a local TV

commercial.  At least the guy had also insisted that she finish High School, so

it wasn’t all bad.

Xiomara was quite gloomy afterwards as she had hoped Zayda would avoid repeating

her own mistakes.  I don’t think Xiomara realized what she was getting into when

she rescued Zayda years earlier.  But considering that she was only in her mid-

20’s at the time and had plenty of other serious problems to deal with, she did

remarkably well by the girl.

Overall, it was actually a really nice trip, but I think it also led to our

final breakup.  Once we got back home, it simply became impossible for us to

continue while she was still seeing the Italian.  We started fighting all the

time and lasted barely a month.

The breakup was really tough, but it was mutual.  Xiomara finally came right out

and said that we had worked better as friends with benefits, noting that we had

even stopped talking with each other the way we used to (for which she correctly

accepted the blame).

To be honest, I was kind of relieved and it wasn’t just the Italian.  A lot to

the things about the way Xiomara treated her lovers that I hadn’t liked when we

first met were still bothering me, and though she did initially make an effort

to improve, she started reverting to her old bad habits after the holidays.

When we hooked up after Beatriz broke things off with me, I had somehow

forgotten all the very good reasons for not getting involved with this woman

that I had written to Chicho the previous summer.  By the end of January 2000,

they had been rubbed in my face once too often.

Surprisingly enough, one of my key additional gripes was that I had started

becoming increasingly dissatisfied with the fact that Xiomara simply wasn’t

“cuddly” enough.  She normally detested too much PDA, even preferring not to

hold hands in public.  That would have been OK, if not for the fact that she

wasn’t much better in private.  For instance, she was the first girlfriend I had

who did not like to cuddle up after sex, preferring instead to that I move over

to the other side of the bed.  Now some guys might prefer a woman who doesn’t

get clingy after sex, but I sure started missing it when it didn’t happen.

Still, as I think back, Xiomara remains one of the most impressive women I have

ever met.  I’m just glad I didn’t end up marrying her.

Ironically, it was a few weeks before that Christmas trip to Nicaragua that

Xiomara introduced me to Liliana in another one of her attempts at matchmaking,

though this time I wasn’t the intended target.  But that’s a story for another

day.

WHERE ARE THEY NOW

I guess I shouldn’t just end this account without including the obligatory

“Where are they now” section.

The one member of the Mosqueteras whom I still have somewhat regular contact

with is Sandra, despite the fact that I didn’t see her for some 3 years or so

after my breakup with Xiomara.  The first time we ran into each other again was

at a cast party for the play her ex was in with my wife and I found her in a

corner, smoking away while talking with Liliana, her ex, and another man.  She

seemed really happy to see me and introduced the other guy as her new husband.

Judging by how content she looked, this guy clearly was capable of appreciating

her feminine charms.  She’s repaid him by becoming the epitome of the devoted

wife and mother.  Seeing her now, you’d never guess that this was a woman who

slept with 30 guys in 7 months and even did some escorting on the side.

It’s through Sandra that I get news about the other two, since true to their

pledge during that beach trip; they’ve remained in close contact, even when

living far apart.  Beatriz was Sandra’s maid of honor and they remain best

friends today despite the fact that they now live very different lifestyles.

I did run into Beatriz occasionally around town over the next few years, but we

always simply greeted each other and went on our way.  According to Sandra,

she’s still single, but has slowed down her hectic social life considerably.

She got into a pattern of serial monogamy, breaking things off whenever a guy

showed signs of becoming too attached to her.  She even ended up playing the

role of the mistress herself a couple of times over the years (though never

letting herself become financially dependent the way Xiomara had on the

Italian).  This includes an affair with a former president of this country that

they managed to keep out of the press.  As a result of the clever management of

her ex-husband’s assets and some of the gifts she received from lovers, she was

able to afford to send her kids to the same expensive American school that the

Belgian girl had gone to and her daughter will be heading off to a US college

next fall.

As for Xiomara, once she got her Master’s and her mother passed away, she dumped

the Italian and got a decent job using her new degree.  About a year later she

surprised everyone by marrying Jorge, the German car rental guy.  They

eventually moved back to Germany when he came into an inheritance.  Sandra and

her husband went over there and stayed with them during the 2006 World Cup.  She

reports that Jorge now manages a car dealership of which he’s part owner, while

Xiomara runs their household with an iron fist, takes care of their two kids,

gives dance lessons to children in their neighborhood and writes poetry on the

side.  Perhaps she needed a guy as laid back and easy going as Jorge all along;

someone willing to let her be in charge as long as she doesn’t go over certain

lines.  Good thing then that she resisted the temptations of stripping or

whoring.

But Xiomara – a suburban German housfrau?  It boggles the mind!

Sandra has actually become something of a friend of Liliana’s.  After all, they

do have a bit of a wild past in common and my wife is one of the few people that

Sandra can be honest with about some of the things she got up to.  But I tend to

feel a little uncomfortable around her and it’s not because she reminds me of

Xiomara and Beatriz.  The problem I have is that I can’t help but picture her

cute little pussy dripping cum on to my bed that night at the beach.  Xiomara

was right; I really am “pervertido”.

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