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From: shakespeer2b@yahoo.com (Shakes Peer2B)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 17 Feb 2004 01:37:14 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Parminder, Stranded (MF oral, anal, celeb, slow, caution)
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Date: Mon, 16 Feb 2004 23:10:06 -0500
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FEEDBACK! If you like it, let me know! Even better, let me know how to
improve it!
________________________________
This is a story about a sexual FANTASY written for consenting adults.
If you're not both of those, don't read it.  Characters in a FANTASY
don't get sick or die unless I want them to. In real life, people who
don't use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do get sick and die.
You don't live in a FANTASY so be safe.  The fictional characters in
my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY - don't try
to do what they do - someone could get hurt.

If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters
here, congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the
characters in this story and any real person is purely coincidental,
since all of these characters are figments of my dirty little
imagination.

This is my story, not yours. Don't sell it or put it on a pay site.
You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information
intact, but if you make money off of it, you're breaking the law and
pissing me off.
_________________________________
Parminder, Stranded (MF oral, anal, celeb, slow, caution)
(C)Copyright 2004 - Shakes Peer2B
shakes_peer2b@NONOsbcglobal.net
(remove 'NONO' from the above address to contact me)

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Shakes_Peer2B/
http://storiesonline.net/  (go to the Author's page under 'S')
________
In a break from my usual rule, I am writing a story about a real
person without that person's permission, so I want to make a few
things clear: I do not know the young lady in the story, except as
other 'ER' fans know her, from her TV role as a young medical student.

All of the events in this story are fictional. I do not even know if
she is Sikh or if her family really has ties to the Punjab region of
India. So, readers, please understand: THIS IS FICTION!

__________________
The beamer caught my eye, partly because of the rental sticker on the
bumper, and partly because of the petite, dark-haired, dusky-skinned
young lady pacing in frustration nearby.  Don't see many BMW's in
these parts, nor people who can afford to rent them.  Also don't see
many such exotic beauties.

I pulled over well in front of the apparently stalled vehicle, leaving
a cushion of distance so the young lady wouldn't be too frightened
having a stranger stop.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" I said as I stepped from my truck.

"This stupid car has stopped!" (she pronounced it like "shtewpid cah".
I love British accents!), "and I forgot to charge my mobile!"

"Would you like me to take a look?" I asked, still keeping my
distance.

"If you would, please!" she almost demanded, "What a effing day! First
I have to put up with that silly Sikh ceremony, and now I'm stuck in
the middle of nowhere with a mobile that doesn't work. Now here's
Gomer effing Pyle to the rescue!"

Well! That wasn't very nice!

I got the rental company's 800 number off the sticker on the car and
dialed it on my cell.

"Hi! My name is Nick Stafford. Could you please connect me with
whoever handles breakdowns of your rental cars? Thanks!"

After a short pause another voice came on the line.

"Yeah, my name is Nick Stafford, I'm calling to report that one of
your cars has broken down about ten miles out of Williams on the old
Monroe Highway. Yeah, it's about half a mile west of the Compton
turnoff."

"Oh, no, I'm not the renter, just a guy passing by."

"Try Parminder Nagra..."  I saw her head whip around as I said her
name.

"Yeah, that's it..." 

"About half an hour? Ok, thanks!"

As I passed her on the way back to my truck, she stared at me, but
said nothing.

I had gotten the engine started and was checking the mirror for
oncoming traffic when I saw her reflection huffing up to my door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" she panted.

"I'm going about my business, ma'am." I said, "And the name's Nick
Stafford, NOT Gomer effing Pyle! Your tow will be here in about half
an hour. Have a nice day."

I started to move again.

"Wait! Please! I'm sorry!" she cried, running to keep up.

I stopped.

"Please! You've been very kind and I've been such an ass!" she gasped,
a little out of breath, "Will you please do me the favor of waiting
with me 'til the tow arrives?"

She was standing on the running board, holding onto the wing vent.

"Hang on." I warned, putting it in reverse.  

I backed up to within a few feet of her car and said, "You gonna stay
out there all day, or do you want to climb in here out of the sun?"

I killed the engine, waiting for her reply.  She gazed at me
speculatively, giving me time to notice that she looked even better in
person than she did on TV, without all that makeup on. Her skin was
flawless, and created the perfect setting for her dark eyes.

Finally deciding I probably wasn't a homicidal maniac, she walked
around the front of the truck, her lustrous black hair just showing
above the hood, and climbed into the passenger's side.

She ran her hands over the leather of the upholstery and inspected the
rest of the interior.

"You've kept this in very good shape!" she said, with apparent
admiration.

"Yeah, she's kinda old so I have to baby her a bit," I let my pride
show a little, "but she still runs like a top, and can haul anything I
need moved."

We sat in silence for a few moments. I didn't want to stare, but
occasional glances showed her struggling for words to say. Finally,
she must have found them.

"When did you recognize me?" she asked.

"About the time I got close enough to get a good look." I watched her
face to catch her expressions, and because it was a very pleasant face
to watch.

"Most people, at least outside the studio," she continued, choosing
her words carefully, "when they recognize me, fall all over themselves
trying to please me or get an autograph. Why didn't you?"

I met her gaze steadily and shrugged before replying, "I'm not most
people."

She waved a hand in frustration and a frown clouded her features,
"That's obvious! But specifically, why?"

I thought a bit, choosing my own words, before replying, "I never
understood all that brouhaha over celebrities.  I'd venture to say
that I'm at least as good at what I do as you are at what you do. The
difference is, you do it in front of millions of people, so a lot of
folks recognize your face. Why make a fuss over it? Have you saved the
world? Have you invented a cure for cancer? Have you built a rocket to
help us escape from this mudball when the politicians finally screw it
up so bad we can't live on it?"

I paused for a bit, then continued, "No, ma'am. If I was to make a
fuss over you, it'd be because you're such a pretty little thing and
I'd want to date you. I reckon, though, that whatever agents and
business managers you have lookin' after you are gonna be lookin' to
whisk you away from here pretty quick, so why bother?"

She stared open-mouthed at me for a long moment, then a smile burst
across her face, "What a refreshing perspective! I'm afraid I always
took it for granted that I deserved all the attention people gave me. 
In fact, I guess I've come to accept it as my right. No wonder I've
been such an ass!"

I cracked a smile and replied, "Well that'd make you about the best
looking donkey I've seen in my lifetime."

That got a small laugh, which was more than it deserved, but I was
grateful.

"So, what do you do, Nick Stafford?" she asked, with a twinkle in her
eye, "Besides telling bad jokes, that is!"

I acknowledged her assessment of my comedic talents with a wry grin
and answered, "I develop software and try to keep my little piece of
dirt producing enough to get by."

"So you're sort of a 'gentleman farmer'?" 

"Hardly!" I showed her the horned callouses on my hands, "These didn't
come from the keyboard.  Couldn't make ends meet if I depended on
others to do everything."

"But, if you work so hard farming," she asked, genuinely puzzled,
"when do you have time to write software?"

"Well, first of all," I replied, "I don't WRITE that much of it. I
DEVELOP it. The largest part of that is nailing down the requirements
so that I have a pretty good idea what the customer wants and needs,
from his perspective, then designing the system to meet those
requirements.  When I do write, I mostly write building blocks - code
modules that can be assembled with other modules to make a system. I
can build some pretty complex systems from the modules I've developed
over the years without writing much new code."

"Doing things that way, the software development doesn't take much
time at all." I continued, "The rest is time management - or rather
managing my activities to fit in the available time."

"But that must keep you awfully busy!" she actually seemed interested.

"Nothing wrong with that!" I laughed, "But you'd be surprised. I still
find time to sit in a rockin' chair and whittle now and then, or go
fishin' or skinny dippin' in the creek. Can't imagine living life any
other way."

"But don't you get tired?" she probed, "All that physical labor, then
doing your other work too?"

"When the other work was all I did," I replied, "I'd go to bed tired,
and not sleep a wink. My mind would keep churning on the problems of
the day. Now, I go to bed, and I'm PHYSICALLY tired, but mentally
rested. I sleep like a baby, and wake up rested and refreshed."

"You seem to have life all figured out." she said, with only a little
sarcasm in her voice.

I shrugged, "I like the life I live, but I'm not fool enough to
believe that what's right for me is right for everyone else."

She had the grace to flush a little.

"Actually," she said, "I think I'm a little envious! My whole life
seems to be run by other people!"

"Oh?" I asked, just to be polite.

"when my agent or the studio aren't rushing me off to some event or
audition or something," she said, with a hint of bitterness in her
voice, "I'm having to attend some ritual or other for a religion I
don't believe in, just to keep my family happy! I can't remember the
last time I did something I wanted to do!"

"When was the last time you said 'no' to any of these people you say
are running your life?" I asked, deadpan.

She looked as if I'd slapped her.

"I can't do that!" she exclaimed.

"Why not?" I asked, calmly.

"Well, because, well, you know, my career... my family...!" she
struggled, having to think about a set of circumstances to which she
had only reacted before.

"Life is a set of choices, Ms. Nagra. If you continue to choose your
career and your family's wishes over your own, then others will
continue to control your life. If, at some point, you decide you need
to find SOME time for yourself, then you start saying 'no' sometimes
to the demands that others make on you. It's a matter of knowing
what's most important to you."

She contemplated on that for a long time. Before she could comment,
the tow truck showed up and we got out to deal with the driver.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Nagra," the driver said, not really caring, "but I
only haul them back to the shop. The company won't charge you for the
rental, of course, but the nearest replacement is back at the airport
where you got this one."

She was about to blow another gasket when I said, "Look, what time is
your flight?"

Temporarily distracted, Parminder searched in her purse for her
itinerary. Fishing the paper out, she said, "It's at three. Well,
eight past three anyway."

I consulted my watch and said, "It's a quarter to three now, and the
airport's about forty five minutes away, so you've missed that flight.
Why don't you come with me while I dump this load of feed, and you can
use my cell to call whoever you need to and to re-schedule your
flight. Then, after you've had a chance to freshen up, I'll take you
to the airport."

She looked me over speculatively, then gave me that brilliant smile
that I'd seen only once before.

"All right, Mr. Stafford!" she said, "You've got a deal, but you must
let me pay you for your trouble!"

I had started to take her bags to the truck, but stopped dead in my
tracks and dropped the bags.

"You either come as my invited guest, Ms. Nagra," I said, "or you find
another way to the airport. Either way, I will not take your money,
any more than I'd ask any of my other guests to pay for the
hospitality I offer."

Parminder's lovely brown eyes went wide with shock, "I was only trying
to be polite, Mr. Stafford!"

"It's not polite to treat your host like someone hired to do you a
service." I said, very seriously, "If you wish to be polite, don't
insult me."

She was clearly taken aback by my response, but said, "Of course!
Again, I apologize! It's just that, well, in the places my career
takes me, everyone has his hand out."

"I'll be sure to keep mine in my pockets." I relented a bit, "Shall we
go?"

I threw the bags in the bed of the truck with the feed sacks.  The
high wooden rails around the flatbed would ensure that nothing came
out on the short trip to my 'little piece of dirt'.

Parminder was on the phone with the airline for only a short time
before turning to me and saying "There's no flight 'til tomorrow! Is
there a decent hotel nearby?"

"There's a motel out on the interstate, but I doubt if it's what
you're accustomed to." I said, "But why bother? I have a number of
empty, furnished rooms, and I'm sure one of them would serve quite
well as a guest room."

She looked at me speculatively and said nothing.

Guessing at her concern, I said, "All the rooms can be locked from the
inside, if you're worried about uninvited visitors."

She smiled at me, looking embarrassed, and asked "Are you a
mind-reader, Mr. Stafford?"

"No," I said, turning into the long drive between white rail fences,
"I am an observer and I think about what I observe. You were obviously
worried about something. A pretty young lady alone in a strange house
with a man you hardly know - it wasn't hard to guess that you might
have some concerns about that."

"I think you are someone it would serve me well to know better, Mr.
Stafford," she said, pensively, "you intrigue me. I don't think I've
ever met anyone who thinks like you, yet what you say makes sense."

"It's not a unique trait, ma'am." I said deprecatingly, "All it
requires is that one think for one's self instead of adopting the
thoughts of those around us. Of course, that also means you have to
get used to THINKING, a fad which seems to have gone out of style
these days."

As I pulled up into the common yard and backed toward the barn,
Parminder looked around with a gasp.

"THIS is your 'little piece of dirt'?" she exclaimed, following the
fence lines out toward the horizon, "What would you call a BIG piece
of dirt?!"

I smiled indulgently.  "It's only a few hundred acres, ma'am. Mostly I
just raise horses, but I keep a truck patch for the table, and a few
Holsteins. They're kind of switch hitters - produce plenty of milk but
make decent beef if it's aged right. Got a few chickens and a couple
of sheep too. I'm sort of partial to lamb, but don't much care for
pork, so I don't keep pigs."

I walked Parminder and her bags to the house and got her settled in
her room, pointing out the bathrooms, the living areas and the
kitchen, then went out to unload the feed.  This is one of the reasons
I've gotten in pretty good shape working this place - tossing forty or
fifty hundred pound sacks of feed into the loft, even from the
elevated truck bed, is a pretty good workout for anybody.

After I got the feed sacks stacked for easy access to the feed
troughs, I went in to wash up, and was pleasantly surprised to find my
nostrils filled with some very savory aromas.  Following my nose into
the kitchen, I found Parminder with her sleeves rolled up and an old
apron of mine wrapped almost all the way around her.

"You keep your pantry and spice cabinet very well stocked, Mr.
Stafford!" she said, stirring something on the stove, "I was able to
find most of the spices I'd find in my mother's cabinets, and
reasonable substitutes for the others. I do hope you don't mind, but
it's been a while since I had a good lamb dish, and your mention of it
got my mouth watering. I wasn't really expecting to have to cut it off
a hanging carcass though!"

I smiled at that. Most people are a little surprised at the meat
locker I built just off the kitchen, and how much meat they find
there. I guess she hadn't looked in the walk-in freezer yet.

"If that tastes as good as it smells," I smiled, "I can probably find
it in my heart somewhere to forgive you!"

That got me another charitable smile.

By the time I got cleaned up, Parminder had set two places and was
serving a delicious meal for the two of us.

"It's nice to see you haven't completely abandoned your heritage!" I
said as I savored a tender morsel of spicy lamb. The flavor was
reminiscent of curry but there were other spices in combinations I'd
never tasted before.

"It's not that I don't respect my heritage, Mr. Stafford." she said, a
bit huffily, "I just don't find that all of it is compatible with
modern life."

"Don't get your bowels in an uproar ma'am." I said, placatingly, I
hoped, "I meant it as a compliment - another way of saying 'this is
delicious'. How you preserve your heritage is as much your choice as
how you live the rest of your life. I may have an opinion about it,
but it don't amount to a hill of beans, since you're the one that's
got to live your life, not me."

She was silent for several long moments, studying me as I tried not to
wolf down the delicious repast before me.

"I can't get a handle on you, Mr. Stafford." she finally said, "Most
people I can figure out pretty well, but I can't figure out what it is
you want with me."

"Why don't you try asking me?" I said quietly.

The obviousness of that set her back a bit.

"Very well, then," she said, screwing up her courage, "what DO you
want from me?"

I chose my words carefully before replying, "I WANT only a couple of
things from you, Ms. Nagra, and EXPECT even fewer. I want to spend a
little time with you, to enjoy your company. I also want to get you
into my bed - to enjoy sex with you. I EXPECT the first of those - to
spend a little time with you and enjoy your company.  I don't expect
the second, but I can always hope."

She didn't, at first, know whether to be angry, shocked, or flattered.

"But, well, I guess a lot of men want to have sex with me," she
finally said, "so that's a pretty obvious one, though one doesn't
normally expect it to be approached so directly! The first one, about
spending time with me, I don't understand. What's your real purpose?
What are you hiding?"

"Is it so incredible, Ms. Nagra," I said, "that someone would just
like to spend a little time in your company? You are a lovely young
woman, and just being around you lifts my spirits, but I also think
you have within you, the seeds of an actual thinking human being - a
rare and valuable species! I have found that hiding my agenda, so to
speak, only complicates things. By telling you up front what I want,
we can bypass all the dancing around and trying to communicate without
saying anything, and get right to the decision-making stage."

"Well, Mr. Stafford, I'm not going to share your bed, so that
decision's made." she said, "As for whatever else you want, well, I've
gotten pretty good at avoiding the people who want to cheat me out of
my money, so whatever scheme you've got planned, forget about it!"

"I can understand your paranoia, Ms. Nagra," I said past the forkful
of food I was preparing to stuff in my mouth, "so I won't waste my
breath trying to convince you.  Thank you, by the way, for being
honest about the sex thing. Now I can forget about that and just enjoy
your company."

She gave me a curious look and went back to eating. A few minutes
later I heard her fork land on her plate rather loudly and looked up.

"That's it?!" she asked, somewhat peeved, "I tell you you're not
getting me in your bed, and you just accept it?! You stop trying?"

I just looked at her calmly and said "Yes."

"No man alive does that!" she cried, "Why would you?"

"Ma'am, if you want to have sex with me, just say so." I replied, "If
you don't, why are you making such a fuss about getting your wish?"

"Whatever happened to romance and seduction?" she ranted, "When a
woman says no, most men take it as 'not yet'! But not you! Oh no! A
simple refusal, and you just give up the chase!"

"First of all," I said, "I wasn't chasing to begin with. Secondly, if
you can't say what you mean, how are we ever going to communicate
effectively? I took the first step by taking your words at face value,
as I do everyone's until I catch them lying to me. It's quite simple,
really. You say something, I believe it. I say something, you believe
it. Saves all that chasing around after hidden agendas."

I went back to eating, but could almost FEEL her seething.

"Why the hell would I want to sleep with an infuriating,
holier-than-thou FARMER such as yourself, anyway?" she almost shouted

"That's what you need figure out, if you're considering it." I said
calmly, "I will say this: For someone who doesn't want to sleep with
me, you're certainly making an awful fuss about not having to!"

She spluttered for a few moments before retorting, "Well, a girl wants
to feel wanted, even if she doesn't return the feeling!"

"I already TOLD you I want you!" my exasperation was starting to show,
"So that's not the real reason. Why don't you close your mouth and
open your mind. You just might discover something about yourself that
you didn't know."

That caught her up short, but to her credit, instead of exploding, as
I half expected, she snapped her mouth shut and sat, sullenly mulling
over my words.

Finally, grudgingly, as I continued eating, she said, "It's the female
stereotype, isn't it? Despite our pretense at liberation, we still
want to be pursued, until we catch our pursuer. That way we can avoid
taking responsibility for whatever happens, but if it turns out all
right, we get to feel all smug and clever."

Without looking up, I said, "Are you asking a question, or thinking
out loud? If it's the former, you can answer better than I."

"Just thinking out loud, I suppose." she said, her face still twisted
in thought.

"And are you reaching any conclusions?" I asked as I placed my
utensils on my nearly spotless plate.

She shot me a venomous look, followed quickly by that dazzling smile,
and said, "You're an evil man, Mr. Stafford, forcing me to face my own
weaknesses like that..."

I held up a finger to interrupt, and said, "I beg to differ, Ms.
Nagra. I have encouraged you to think, but have forced you to do
nothing. As for facing one's weaknesses, how else does one get
stronger?"

"As I was saying." she gave me a reproachful glare, "In the cold light
of logic, I'm forced to admit that I want you, too. All that other
flotsam was just to relieve me of the responsibility of admitting it
to myself."

I gave her a warm smile and changed the subject, "This has been an
excellent meal, Ms. Nagra! Whatever else you may be, you're a superb
cook!"

"Hey!" she exclaimed, "What's happened to your country bumpkin
accent!"

I twisted my mouth in grimace, "It seems to come and go at will,
without conscious intervention on my part. I kind of wish it didn't
because it's a bit deceptive, but the habit's been with me too long,
and changing it would require somehow becoming conscious of it at all
times.  I haven't figured out how to do that yet."

She laughed a little at that and shook her head, "You still confuse
me, Mr. Stafford..."

"Nick, please!" I interjected.

"...Nick, then." she continued, "You tell me you want to sleep with
me, then, when I finally admit to the same desire, you immediately
change the subject! Have you changed your mind?"

I chuckled, "No, Ms. Nagra..."

"Parminder, or Par, if you please!" it was her turn to butt in.

"Par." I said, "I haven't changed my mind, but now that it's out in
the open, there doesn't seem to be much to discuss. From here on, I
will assume that it's ok to make advances, when the time and mood seem
right, but there's no hurry to get to it!"

Her laugh was soft, like her face, "You're right, of course. Such
things are best left to find their own time and place!"

We worked together to clear away the dishes and straighten the
kitchen, swapping stories and jokes like old acquaintances reunited.
When all was done, we settled into chairs in the sitting room - what
most would call a family room, I suppose, but since it was just me...
I poured us each a snifter of fine cognac and settled down across from
her, watching the sunset behind the hills, and the way the waning
light highlighted Parminder's dusky features.

She joined me on the sofa, after a few minutes, without being asked,
and we watched the sun's final plunge together. We sat for several
minutes in peaceful silence, just enjoying Mother Nature's light show.

Some time later, Parminder spoke in almost a whisper, "It's so quiet!"

Indeed, the creatures of the day were putting themselves to bed, and
the sounds made by the swifts and bats as they hunted insects in the
fading sunlight were inaudible to our ears. Their fantastic, seemingly
silent, aerial maneuvers only emphasized the quiet.

Almost as though a signal had been given, though, as soon as the last
rays of sunlight winked out, a symphony of night sounds arose around
the house. Crickets started their nightly serenade and owls hooted in
counterpoint. Whipoorwills called to each other, and night insects
began buzzing at the screen door, hungry for the meager light that
seeped out from where we were.

"I remember this from my childhood!" Parminder whispered, "In the
Punjab, at night, it's like this! Oh, some of the sounds are
different, but this brings back so many long buried memories!"

As naturally as if she'd done it all her life, she wrapped both arms
around my right one and leaned her head on my shoulder, heaving a
contented sigh.

A few more minutes of silence, then suddenly, Parminder sat bolt
upright, exclaiming "Oh bugger! I've forgotten to ring my agent! He'll
be worried sick!"

I just handed her the handset from the cordless phone and tried not to
listen as she finally tracked him down on his cell phone.

"Maury! I'm so sorry! I forgot to call, with everything that's
happened!"

"You won't believe! The stupid rental car broke down!"

"A BMW! Can you believe it! Anyway, there was no replacement closer
than the airport."

"No! I missed my flight!"

"No, no. I TRIED to book another flight, but there's not one 'til
tomorrow!"

"Oh, I'm not in a hotel."

"No. A nice gentleman offered me a room and a ride to the airport,
and..."

"No, Maury, he's been a perfect, if somewhat infuriating gentleman..."

"Well, it's the oddest thing! He expects me to THINK!"

"No, really, my head doesn't hurt at all! I think I could actually
come to like it!"

"Not another one! Come on Maury, those guys are just dirty old men!
They're not looking for an actor, just a pretty face and sexy body!"

"Yes, I know their movies sell, but to whom do they sell?"

"I don't want to be a sex symbol! I want to act!"

"NO, Maury! Call them back and tell them no!"

"I don't know if I'm coming back tomorrow or not. If my host agrees,
perhaps I'll take a long overdue vacation and stay here for a few
days."

"Yeah, the number is... No, Maury, you know what? I'll call you!"

"When I'm good and ready!"

"No!"

"No, my mobile's dead and I don't have a charger."

"You'll live, Maury, and, more important, so will I."

When she hung up, I couldn't hide the grin that spread across my face.

"What?" she asked, suspiciously, then realized, "Oh, my! I've just
told my agent 'no'! What an absolutely wonderful, powerful feeling!"

"What have you done to me, Nick?" she whispered, resuming her position
on my shoulder, "I feel so... so... comfortable! Despite your
irritating habit of expecting me to think, somehow, I feel very
contented just now!"

"How about a massage, to help with that?" I asked softly.

She looked up at me in the dim light and said, "Farming, developing
software, and now, giving massages! Is there anything you don't do?"

I pretended to think very hard before replying, "Well, I don't fly
without a plane, but I'm still working on that!"

She laughed and punched my arm.

"So, is that a yes?" I asked, then, remembering her conversation, "And
by the way, your host agrees."

She looked puzzled, then her face cleared and she smiled, "Yes, it's a
yes, and thank you! I really could use a vacation!"

A frown clouded her face and she continued, "But what about you? I
can't just take you away from your work for several days, and all that
livestock isn't going to feed itself!"

"That's rather presumptuous of you, don't you think?" I said
mockingly, "I will take whatever time I need, but I don't intend to
wait on you hand and foot, you know. I have hands to help with the
stock, and I'm between contracts for software at the moment."

She looked chastened and said contritely, "I'm sorry! I suppose I WAS
presuming a trifle! After all, how much help do I need just relaxing
for a few days?  I'll shift for myself most of the time, but would
appreciate any of your company you can afford to give."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll see at least as much of me as you can stand!" I
chided, "You're welcome to use the pool and spa as much as you like.
with the height of the fence and the fact that it's accessible only
through the house, swimsuits are optional, though if you're shy, you
might want to cover up if anyone's working the hills to the east.  Can
you ride a horse?"

"Oh yes!" she cried "That would be lovely!"

"I'm afraid I only have western saddles," I continued, "and the horses
are trained for working cattle, so they'll feel and handle differently
than ones you may be accustomed to."

"Not to worry, Nick," she laughed, "I once took a course in riding
American style in case I should ever land a part in one of your
Westerns!"

"Good!" I stuck out my hand to be shaken, "It's settled then!"

Her hand was dwarfed in mine, but her grip was firm, and her smile
brilliant.

"Now," she said, "How about that massage?"

I laughed and replied as I held out a hand to help her up, "There's a
massage table in the room next to my workout room, and like the pool,
it's clothing optional."

I flipped the wall switch and subdued lighting flooded the massage
room as soft, rhythmless music floated through the air.

Parminder's eyebrows rose in surprise and she shot me a questioning
glance.

"I have someone come in occasionally to give me massages," I answered
her unspoken question, "and I thought it would be nice to be
comfortable while being massaged."

"Why aren't you married, Nick?" she asked, un-selfconsciouslessly
shedding her clothes, folding each piece neatly and placing it on a
chair.

"Was once." I said, "She died several years ago. The money from the
insurance and the lawsuit helped me to get this place."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed sympathetically.

I shrugged, "Happens. I still miss her some, but life is beginning to
go on. I don't see her out the corner of my eye anymore, or hear her
voice calling me."

"Why aren't you married?" I asked, to shift the conversation off me.

"Mostly, I've been concentrating on my career." she said, "but if I
admit it to myself, I guess I've also been trying to avoid having to
tell my parents that they don't get to choose my husband."

She climbed easily onto the table and settled into position. Since she
didn't ask for one, I didn't offer a towel.  I was too engrossed in
admiring her body to want to cover it unless she asked.

I warmed the oil and used sandpaper to smooth off the rough edges of
my callouses, also making sure my nails were trimmed back.

Parminder moaned contentedly under my ministrations. I was a bit
surprised at the firmness of the muscles under those soft curves. I
had to use considerable pressure in some areas to work out the kinks.

I worked my way down her back, then up her legs, saving those luscious
buttocks for last.  It was a distinct pleasure to knead and manipulate
those firm little orbs, and by the time I was finished, I could smell
her arousal.

I gently helped her to turn over and worked her shoulders and pects,
avoiding for now her lovely breasts. Her moans took on a tinge of
frustration when I left her chest and moved to her feet.

She melted all over again as I worked the bottoms of her feet, then
kneaded my way up her calves. I spread her legs slightly to work her
thighs, and could see moisture seeping from her opening, filling the
room with a mixture of her scent and that of the oil. By the time I
reached the tops of her thighs, her hips were rocking in time with my
strokes.

I bypassed the dark triangle and, using plenty of oil, gently worked
her rounded little bowl of a belly.  Gradually, keeping my hands well
oiled, I worked up to the soft mounds of her breasts.  When my greasy
hands first started kneading those lovely dusky orbs with the dark
brown centers, Parminder's back arched, offering them to my grasping
hands.

I kept the pressure gentle, but as I got to the tip of each breast, I
squeezed the dark nipple tightly between thumb and forefinger and
continued upward until the oil and the stretching pulled the slippery
nub out of my grasp. A small cry erupted from Parminder as each nipple
escaped its bondage.

For several minutes I repeated the process, turning my hands to
different angles and moving rhythmically to 'milk' those beautiful
teats. Finally, I bent over her and took one hard, dark nipple into my
mouth, congratulating myself on my forethought for having bought that
flavored massage oil!

My palm slid down her lubricated abdomen and came to rest on the dark
forest covering her mound as two fingers slid alongside her clit and
slipped easily into her self-lubricated opening.  A deep moan arose
from her throat, and her head arched backward.

As my fingers found her G-spot, I started tapping it.  With each tap,
my teeth would close sharply on the hard little eraser of her nipple,
and immediately release. Her body bridged between shoulders and heels
as she came the first time, but I continued the rhythmic tapping and
biting.

After three or four more orgasms, I relinquished my hold on her erect
nipple, and swept downward to suckle on her engorged clit. Now,
instead of tapping, my fingers slid relentlessly back and forth across
her G-spot in time with my lengual manipulation of her sensitive
little bud.  Higher and higher I took her, pausing each time she
neared the precipice, never quite letting her cum.

At first gently, then with more and greater vigor I played her
dripping instrument, building toward a final crescendo.  Parminder's
sighs and moans became more desperate, more strident. She would inhale
two or three times before remembering to exhale, and each time the air
gusted out across tightly stretched vocal chords.

I shifted position to the bottom of the table, and the lovely actress
wrapped her luscious brown thighs around my head, crying her lustful
frustration to the rafters. I turned her cries to screams as I plunged
a finger deeply into the brown crinkled star of her anus. Again and
again I brought her to the edge, only to back off and let her cool
down.

Finally, as her small hands beat at the massage table in frustration
and I feared she would pass out from hyperventilation, I drummed two
fingers of one hand against her G-spot while pistoning two fingers
rapidly in and out of her backside.  As her hips rose to meet my
manual assault, I bit sharply, quickly at the tender bud of her clit
several times in succession.

Parminder's voice broke mid-scream and the remainder of her cry gusted
silently out of her throat as her entire body went rigid, her legs
almost breaking my neck as they spasmed then straightened to drum her
heels against my back!  My mouth couldn't keep up with her ratcheting
pelvis, and I thought I'd have to come back later for my fingers as
her openings clamped down on them! For a long, long moment, her climax
seized her.  When it finally relinquished its grip on her body, every
muscle seemed to lose its strength as she collapsed back to the table,
twitching with aftershocks.

Slowly, gently, I extracted various parts of my anatomy from hers,
causing new tremors as I touched oversensitive tissues.

I had finished washing my hands and face before Parminder once again
became aware of her surroundings. As I turned, drying on a towel, she
groaned and made a feeble attempt to sit.

"That," she said hoarsely, "was the most relaxing massage I EVER had!
I can hardly move!"

"Then don't try, just yet." I said, "Let me clean you up first."

She surrendered without a fight, and with a series of warm washcloths,
I cleansed the oil and other fluids from her body, eliciting more
sighs of contentment.

Without a word, I lifted her limp form from the table and carried it
upstairs to the room I had designated as hers, depositing her gently
on the bed. As I covered her and turned out the light, she murmured,
"But, what about you?"

I kissed her lightly on the forehead and said, "Plenty of time for
that later. I prefer my partners to be at least semi-conscious!"

That got me a feeble smile followed almost immediately by a ladylike
snore.

Breakfast was almost ready by the time Parminder shuffled into the
kitchen looking quite fetching, if somewhat disheveled, in a terry
robe about twice her size.  She eagerly took the cup of coffee I
offered as she sat down at the table.

A couple of sips later, a little life came back to her eyes.

She looked up at me from under an unruly mop of black hair and said,
"I can't recall the last time I slept so soundly! If this coffee
hadn't smelled so marvelous, I'd still be snoring away!"

I put a heaping plate of bacon, eggs and grits in front of her and sat
down with my own plate.

She eyed the plate dubiously, and gingerly tasted a buttery bite of
grits.  Black eyebrows arched across her forehead as she exclaimed,
"This is quite good! What is it?"

"It's called 'grits'," I replied, "or, more formally, hominy grits.
Don't quote me on it, but I think it's made by soaking cornmeal in
lye. Or perhaps they soak the corn in lye before grinding it to this
consistency. Anyway, I eat a lot of 'em. My roots are in the South,
and some habits die hard."

I pointed at the eggs and bacon and said, "Better eat those, too. You
expended a lot of energy last night, and today just might turn out to
be a long one!"

"I usually only eat a piece of fruit for breakfast...!" she said,
taking a tentative bite of egg, and following with a crunchy piece of
bacon, breaking it off with her fingers before slipping in discreetly
between those dark, full lips.

After that, until the plate was clean, all I heard was un-ladylike
'Ummm!'s and 'Aahh!'s.

"My God!" she said, falling back in her chair as her fork clattered
onto the empty plate, "I must have been famished! That was very good!"

I smiled and finished the last bites of my breakfast.

"Well, what would you like to do today," I asked as I refilled her
coffee cup, "on this, your first official day of vacation?"

"This coffee is quite good!" she said, nose still hovering over her
cup, "It's not that brown, watery muck you Americans usually drink!"

"Thanks!" I took a sip from my own cup, "I've got to feed the
livestock in the barnyard, but I've got someone coming out to take
care of the rest of the chores.  I can round us up a couple of horses,
or you can just relax by the pool today."

She thought for a while, savoring the aromas carried by the steam
rising from her mug before replying, "You know, I'm feeling so relaxed
at the moment, Nick, I think I'll just take it easy this morning, if
that's all right with you. Perhaps later in the day I'll have regained
some of my strength. You devastated me last night!"

She followed that with an impish grin, which I couldn't help but
answer.

I finished my chores and showered then wandered out toward the pool,
having seen Parminder sunbathing from my bedroom window.

As I passed down the main hallway, a blinking light on my security
system sent me back upstairs to check out the east hills with my
binoculars. Confirming my suspicions, I went to the pool and covered
Parminder's deliciously naked form with a towel.

"I need to go for a short ride," I said, "If I were you, I'd stay
covered until I get back. OK? Somebody's over on the east hills with
lenses.  I'm going to go check it out. Do me a favor, though and stay
out here so they'll still have something to look at."

She nodded and lay back down.

I quickly saddled Buck. Buck, unlike the other horses, seemed to like
being ridden, and he had the stamina to go forever.  He never strayed
far from the main buildings, just on the off chance that I'd want to
ride.

He was in a playful mood, and I had to wait until he exhaled before I
could tighten the cinch, but it was mostly for show.

I mounted up and headed northwest, angling away from the buildings and
the east hills.  After I was sure I was obscured from the sight of
whoever was up there, I circled back and put Buck into a ground eating
gallop, catching the creek bed almost directly north of the house. 
This late in the summer, the creek was mostly dried up and the sandy
bed muffled Buck's hoofbeats as we pounded back toward the southeast,
behind the hills where my trespasser was waiting.

I walked Buck up the backside of the hill and came down on the guy
with my lariat already loose and ready to go.  He didn't hear us until
Buck was about twenty yards away, and by then it was too late. I
lassoed him as we barreled past at a gallop, and by the time he
realized he was caught, I had taken a couple of turns around the
saddle horn as Buck hit the end of the slack.

The photographer was jerked unceremoniously off his feet before I
pulled lightly back on the reins. Buck planted all four hooves and
almost sat on his haunches as he slid to a stop.

Buck's a well trained cow pony and when I dismounted he kept the rope
taut as I approached the guy, who had managed to struggle back to his
feet.  He must have thought I was going to hit him because he cringed
a bit as I passed.

Without a word, I gathered his equipment and slung it over the back of
Buck's saddle. I remounted and drew my revolver - the one I wear when
away from the house in case of snakes & other vermin, letting Buck
slack off on the rope.

As the noose slackened and fell around his feet, I told the guy, "Get
your clothes off."

"What?" He must have thought he was still in the city, "I'm not taking
my clothes off! This is outrageous! I'll call the cops! I'll..."

"You don't seem to understand, mister." I said calmly, holding the
piece rock steady, "You're trespassing on my property. I know you saw
the signs, because I've got 'em every ten feet along the fence line.
Folks around here don't take to kindly to city folk comin' out here
and traipsin' around our land uninvited. I'll call the Sheriff for you
if you like," I held up my cell phone with my left hand, "and you can
spend the next couple of months dealing with the local law. See, the
sheriff and me, we're drinking buddies, and his cousin Jeff, well,
he's the judge hereabouts."

I grinned at the expression on his face, "Oh yeah, my buddy Bob, he
runs the county jail. I'll be happy to talk to him for you, and get
you some real special accomodations.  I think Butch Cramer's in lockup
again. He's always had a thing for tender city boys! Or..."

The guy's face was getting even whiter and he had to gather some
saliva before he could make his mouth work, "...'Or' what?"

"Or you strip, right here, right now, every stitch," I grinned evilly,
"and you can pick up your clothes and equipment back at your car after
a little hike."

Actually, the nearest place where he could have parked his car was
well over a mile away. That was going to be pretty rough in bare feet.

He wanted to say something more, but realized the futility of it and
started undressing.  When he was down to his shoes and socks, he gave
me a venomous glare and started back in the direction I figured his
car was in.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" I asked.

He stopped and looked back at me, puzzled.

"I said 'every stitch' and I meant it!" I said, waggling the barrel of
the gun menacingly at his feet.

"You can't expect me to walk all the way back there in my bare feet!"
he cried.

I spat at a beetle crawling across the ground, not really trying to
hit it, "Can. Do." was all I said.

He angrily removed his shoes and socks and stomped off across the
grass. That stopped within a couple of steps as his tender feet told
him there were other things besides grass there that weren't good to
be stomped on.

I let him get well down the hill before I swapped the film canister in
his camera for a fresh one, pocketing all the exposed rolls from his
bag as well as the one from the camera. I dismounted and searched the
pockets of his clothing as well, and found one other roll.

When I was pretty sure Parminder's picture wasn't going to wind up in
the Enquirer, I rolled up my lariat and hung it from the saddle again,
then trotted Buck down the hill after the guy, snapping pictures as I
went. I kept snapping as I passed him, getting some great shots of his
little floppy bouncing up and down. If looks could kill, I'd have been
dead several times over.  I was well ahead of him when I spotted his
car.

True to my word, I left his clothes and equipment on the hood of the
car, but kept the film, including the roll I shot. I also left a note
that read, "My property and my guests are off-limits. If there is a
next time, when I shoot you, it will be legal."

I watched from the top of the hill until he drove off, then rode back
to the barn and gave Buck a few extra oats for his trouble, as I
curried him before putting him back in the pasture.

Not surprisingly, Parminder was on pins and needles, wanting to know
what was going on.

"I think you need a new agent, Ms. Nagra." I said as I handed her the
film, "I'd keep that one." I pointed to the roll with the
photographer's nude studies on it, "You may have a use for it someday.
I recommend destroying the rest."

"Wait! Back up!" her confusion showed in her voice, "What do you mean
I need a new agent!"

"Ok," I said patiently, "Put it together. Call to Maury. Paparazzi on
the hill..."

"Oh heavens!" she said, hand to mouth, "Your phone doesn't have caller
ID blocking does it?!"

I slowly shook my head.

"That bastard!" she pounded her fist on the chaise, "That ruddy
bastard!"

She fumed for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing, "He's just
ruined himself! Cheeky bastard didn't think I'd figure it out! Now no
one will use him, not once I've told my story to a few people I know
who can't seem to hold onto secrets!"

I smiled and said "I like the way you think!"

"But wait!" She put a hand on my arm "What about the photographer?
What if he comes back?"

"That's unlikely," I said, with a twisted smile, "but my security
system actually watches the entire perimeter of this place. That's
what tipped me off. I'd have known sooner, but I hadn't thought to
carry the remote beeper. I'll have it with me from now on."

"What makes you so sure he won't come back?" she asked, so I told her
what I'd done.

She looked at the roll of film and laughed, "Oh, you are a devious
man, Mr. Stafford!"

When I told her what the note said, she looked shocked and asked, "You
wouldn't really shoot him, would you?"

"A threat is only as good as the threatened person's willingness to
believe it," I said, "If our spy should ask around, he'll find I'm not
given to making idle threats."

That didn't settle her mind much, but she didn't pursue the matter. We
took a ride around the place in the afternoon, and the wind in her
hair seemed to lift Parminder's spirits. I know it lifted mine! She
looked absolutely ravishing sitting ramrod straight in the saddle, her
tits bouncing enticingly under her shirt!

Over dinner, Parminder said teasingly, "You gave me such a good
massage last night, it's only fair that I return the favor."

"May be fair, Par," I replied, "but it takes a person with some heft
to be able to apply the right kind of pressure for someone my size. 
I've had ladies try before and the results were less than
satisfactory."

She was quiet for a few bites, then said coyly, "Actually, the massage
I have in mind might not relax you much, but I think you'll find it
enjoyable, nonetheless!"

I studied her mischievous smile for a few moments, replying with my
own smile, "How can I refuse an offer like that?"

Once the dinner dishes were cycling through the dishwasher, Parminder
insisted that we retire to the massage room. I stripped off and lay
prone on the table, positioning my face comfortably in the padded
ring.

I tried to resist the temptation to look as I heard rustling and other
sounds from Parminder's vicinity, but one sound caught my attention
and I just had to check it out.  To my astonishment and delight, the
young actress was bent over, facing away from me, slathering her round
little buttocks with a generous coating of massage gel!

"Hey!" she must have caught my movement from the corner of her eye,
"No peeking!"

"Ok! Ok!" I said, laying back down, my curiosity as fully aroused as
my aching cock!

A few moments later, I heard a chair slide across the room toward me,
and felt Parminder climbing onto the table. My hard-on grew even more
as I felt her naked, greasy little buttocks settling firmly atop mine.

"Right!" she said, slipping around a bit on her fleshy perch, "Let's
begin, shall we?"

Placing a small hand on each of my shoulders, she began sliding the
full length of my back with those deliciously slippery buttocks! Her
angle changed as she reached my neck, probably because of the position
of her feet, and I felt an equally slippery pussy 'massaging' the back
of my neck!

"There," she said smugly, "that should take a few of the kinks out!"

For several minutes she slid up and down my back, not doing much to
relax me, but turning both of us on big time.  When she moved to my
legs, she had no choice but to generously lube both of her crevices as
it was impossible for her to keep her buttocks on top of my narrower
legs, or maybe she just didn't want to! Her breathing was getting
ragged, and I think my left leg got short changed a bit as she rasped,
"Turn over!"

She stood astride my body as I turned, and I had the most erotic view
up her legs and torso. Her entire body was glistening from the
lubricant by now, and it was all I could do to put my hands at my
sides instead of running them up her legs.

Applying another generous coating of lube to her nether regions (I was
thanking my lucky stars that I had bought the large, economy size!)
she plopped down on my abdomen, her dark eyes burning into mine as she
slithered to and fro, coming to rest momentarily with my chin nestled
in her pubic hair.

"Are you enjoying your massage, Nick?" she asked from somewhere above
her luscious breasts.

"So far, Par," I replied into her greasy muff, "but there's one part
down there that's still very tense!"

She twisted to look over her shoulder at my erection and said, "Ah!
I've got just the thing to relax that!"

She slipped backward and when my rod collided with her lower back, she
reached behind her and raised it to a vertical position, then lifted
herself and sat gingerly on top of it, slowly lowering her stretching
vagina down my shaft.

"Oooh!" she murmured, hard at work trying to get it all in, "That's a
big one! Hang on! Almost got it...!"

She swiveled her hips and pushed, a couple of inches still outside.
Suddenly, one of her oily feet slipped off the table and she dropped
the last couple of inches! Her shriek almost deafened me and I thought
she'd been seriously injured.

"Are you all right, Parminder?" I asked.

She nodded, still unable to speak, but made no effort to raise herself
back up. My cock was pressed hard against her cervix and her tunnel
was spasming around it.

Finally resting some of her weight on her hands, she gasped, "That
wasn't in the plan! Have you registered that weapon?"

I grinned, and said, "Tried, but the county clerk's a woman, and when
I showed it to her, she wanted to see how it fired, and, well, one
thing led to another, and we never did get that paperwork filled out!"

Slowly, with numerous grunts and moans, Parminder swiveled her hips,
trying to stretch herself to accomodate me. When my glans slipped
across the hard bump of her cervix, both of us gasped!

"I'm sorry, Nick," She said, rising off me, "but it's just too damn
long for that hole."

I was disappointed, but it wasn't the first time a small woman had had
trouble accepting all of me. What Parminder did next, though, broke
the pattern all to hell.

Slipping forward an inch or so as my glans slipped out of her, she
nestled it into the greasy brown star of her anus, and with one long
slow slide, accompanied by many 'Ooohh's and 'aaahhh's, she slid all
the way down. Her eyelids fluttered as it slid into her and eyes
rolled back in her head! When the plum popped through into her colon,
her sounds became wilder, more guttural, and more urgent.

She rested a moment, breathing heavily, when she was finally seated on
my pubic bone, then her eyes bored into mine as she said huskily,
"This hole goes a bit deeper! Just give me a little time to adjust to
your girth, and we'll be off!"

I tried to stay still, but the inside of that hot brown tunnel felt so
good, I couldn't resist flexing a time or two. Each time I did,
Parminder hit me on the chest with a small brown fist and said,
"Bastard!"

After the second or third time, though, the epithet was accompanied by
a constipated sort of smile.

Eventually, she started moving, very slowly, all the way to the point
where the ridge at the back of my glans lodged against the inside of
her sphincter. Then, staring fixedly off into space, she lowered
herself back down.

"Oh my stars!" she exclaimed, "Will that thing never end?!"

But it did, and this time she circled her ass around my pelvis, a
beatific smile on her face as my cock rearranged her insides.

"Oh, I do love having a large cock in my arse!" she moaned, "It's so
very naughty!"

Head thrown back, eyelids aflutter, she started fucking me with short
strokes that let my glans slip in and out of her inner sphincter,
sending shockwaves up my spine, and, from the expression on her face,
having a similar effect on her!

Suddenly, she was all business!

"Right!" she said, "That's done it! Now let's see if we can't work the
tension out of this thing!"

With a smile she rose to the top and dropped, all the way to the
bottom! Again and again, she lifted herself, only to plunge back down!
My hips rose to meet her, as my cock reveled in the gritty warmth of
her nether passage!

As much as the physical sensation, the transported expression on her
beautiful face and the cooing sounds emanating from her throat excited
and drove me onward! Our pelvises slapped wetly together, as excess
lubricant splattered all over the room!

After the slow buildup, this rapid self-rape of her tender asshole
quickly drove me over the edge. My reproductive system turned itself
inside out in its effort to blast everything it had into the lovely,
greasy ass of the young actress!

Her eyes flew open wide as she felt the pulsing of my cock and the
spreading warmth in her bowels, and she threw her head back and
screamed her climax at the rafters!

Moments later, she collapsed, gasping, onto my heaving chest. My
shrinking rod spasmed and twitched within her and her sphincter
squeezed and milked the softening member in response.

When we finally caught our breath, Parminder gingerly raised herself
and let me slip out of her, saying hoarsely, "There, that's relaxed
the pesky bugger!"

I couldn't muster the strength for a laugh, but only smiled
contentedly as the lovely Sikh slipped off my body and the table.

"Shower?" she asked.

I made a feeble hand gesture and struggled to drag myself off the
table. I grabbed a slippery nipple and led her, eyes wide, a couple of
doors down the hall. Releasing her nipple with a grin, I bowed her
into the shower room I use after workouts. She set the water controls
and waited for the hot water to reach the shower head.

Peering seductively over one dusky shoulder, her disheveled hair half
covering her face, she asked, "Coming?"

"Already have!" I quipped, then, "But I'd love to shower with you!"

She acknowledged my attempt at humor with a twisted smile, and stepped
aside to make room for me under the spray.

It took almost a full bar of soap to get all that massage oil off our
bodies. She washed my back, then turned hers for me to wash.  I soaped
my front thoroughly, then plastered myself to her back, my reawakening
cock slithering up and down the crevice between her buttocks as I
moved my body in something approximating a circular motion.

"Having fun?" she asked, not moving away.

"Why, yes!" I replied, "Yes I am! A lot of fun!"

Realizing that about the only thing this would offer her was some
nasty thoughts, I relented and stepped back, completing the job with
the soapy wash cloth. Since her buttocks and the area between her legs
had gotten the most greasing, they naturally required the most
washing, but I figured the washcloth would be too rough for those
sensitive parts, so I soaped up my hand and gave them a thorough
cleansing, taking care not to delve too deeply, especially into her
ass. (Anyone who's tried it knows that soap is more of an irritant to
those tender tissues than a lubricant, no matter what fantasies arise
because of its slipperiness!)

Parmider was panting heavily by the time I finished rinsing her, hands
supporting herself against the wall, and when I took the shower wand
off the wall, aiming its spray between her widespread thighs, her
moans echoed loudly in the tiled chamber. I twisted the control ring,
producing three strong, pulsing streams from the center of the face,
then planted it at her gaping anal opening.

She cried out, but thrust backward to receive the warm flood as it
pounded its way inward. The face of the wand formed enough of a seal
against her flesh that very little of the water escaped, and Parminder
almost swooned as the warmth flooded her guts. When I judged that she
was on the edge of discomfort, I removed the wand and allowed the
brown water to gush out, carrying the remains of our sex down the
drain.

"Oh!" she cried in dismay, as her sphincter, unable to stem the tide,
sprayed the floor of the shower stall with the contents of her lower
intestinal tract. I could swear she blushed!

I rinsed the remains away, then with a hand on her belly, pulled her
hips backward to position them for one more rinse. As I sealed the
wand against her quivering anus, Parminder gasped, "You wicked, evil
man! What are you doing...AAAAAGGGHHH!"

She came, mid-sentence, and panted the last two words "...to me?!"

I stood and whispered, close to her ear, keeping the wand sealed
tightly in place, "Apparently, I'm making you feel very good!"

She cried out and came again as her belly distended, then gasped
"...and very wicked! What I told Maury was very wrong! You, Nick
Stafford, are no gentleman!"

"Never claimed to be!" I grinned, twisting the wand a little for
emphasis.

This time the discharge was almost clear, and once I had washed it
down the drain, I put the wand back in its bracket and turned
Parminder to face me. I placed her hands around my neck and, reaching
between her thighs, lifted her by her tight little buttocks, her legs
draped over my arms.

As I lowered her onto my erect cock, she said, with a worried
expression, "Not there Nick! It's too big!"

"Hold yourself up for a moment." I told her.

When I felt her arms tighten around my neck, her face still showing
worry, I moved my hands and locked them in the small of her back so
that her knees bent over my forearms.

"Now, use your arms and legs to control the depth."

She tried it experimentally and smiled when she realized that as long
as I didn't move, she had complete control. With my hands locked
behind her, and her doing all the work, I expended very little effort
as she gingerly slid up and down my rampant cock.

Her passion mounted as she impaled herself further and further on my
shaft. She leaned forward and locked me in a fiery kiss as her tight
little tube squeezed and massaged my raging hard-on. Her lips were
soft and sweet as they melted against mine and our tongues danced
within the joined cavities. She moaned into my mouth and came softly,
shuddering against me.

When she came up for air, I said "Look." Nodding downward to indicate
the juncture of our pelvises.

She came again when she saw her pubic hair mingled with mine and
realized that she'd taken all of me without discomfort!

When her spasms ceased there was a fire in her gaze as she rasped,
"Fuck me, Nick! Now that I've got it all, I want it all! Fuck me good
and hard!"

I moved my hands back to her buttocks as she relinquished control and
pulled her legs up to rest on my shoulders. I took a couple of
tentative strokes, testing the waters. When she showed no discomfort,
even seemed impatient with my caution, I raised her bottom to the very
top of my shaft and dropped it! At the same time my hips slammed
upward, and my shower nymph screamed and spasmed through another
orgasm!

"Again!" she rasped, and I obliged.

For the next five minutes I ravished her willing pussy, and each time
I hammered the end of tunnel, she came!

With my own climax approaching fast, and my arms beginning to tire, I
backed her up to the tiled wall and simply pounded her against it,
harder and faster with each stroke! Her cries, moans and squirming
body gave me to know that she was cumming continuously, and it wasn't
long before I joined her, pumping what meager offerings my middle-aged
body could scrape together in the wake of its previous depletion, deep
into her clutching, spasming body! What my ejaculation lacked in
quantity, it more than made up for in quality! Stars burst behind my
eyes and my knees lost the ability to hold us up! We slid slowly down
the wall, my valiant member still trying to spit something, anything,
into Parminder's nearly comatose body!

When next I was aware of my surroundings, the water from the shower
was beginning to cool, and Parminder was planting a series of small,
tender kisses all over my face.

I reached up and turned off the water, slowly, carefully extracting
myself from Parminder's twitching pussy.

As she clumsily got to her feet, supported by the wall and my hand,
the young actress said, "Do you realize that this is the first time in
my life I've had sex just for the sake of having sex?"

"Casting couches?" I asked, "I would have thought those had fallen
into disuse."

"They have, except for adult movies." she replied, "Sex is so easily
available in and around the industry that an actor would have to be
fatuous to believe that sleeping with someone would get her a juicy
part. Still, there are certain people to whom a fledgling actor
doesn't say 'no'. It's never blatant, but the implication is always
there: 'Put out or get out!'"

"Hmmm...!" I tried to think of something sympathetic to say, but
sympathy has never been my strong suit, so I said, "Well, I hope you
find many other occasions for recreational sex! I'll certainly do
whatever my poor, tired old body can manage to help with that!"

She hit me with a wet fist, "'Poor, tired old body'! That 'poor, tired
old body' has nearly destroyed this young, energetic one, I'll have
you know!"

We dried off in silence and headed for our separate rooms. I had just
turned out the lights and settled in to sleep when I felt the covers
lift, and Parminder slipped in, her naked back spooned to my equally
naked front. I put an arm around her soft, warm body and fell
contentedly to sleep.

Parminder was my guest for three more days. Sex, after the night she
gave me her 'naughty massage', was slower, sweeter, and less urgent.
She slept in my bed the rest of her stay, and I couldn't have been
happier. No one had shared my bed for any length of time since my wife
died, but this felt, well, right.

When it was time to drive her to the airport, I took her bags out
while she put the finishing touches on her hair and make-up.  I waited
in the yard and when she emerged, looking somehow younger than when I
first met her, she headed for the truck, parked near the barn.

"I think we'll take something a little more comfortable for this
trip," I said, triggering the garage door remote, "unless you really
want to be dropped off at the airport in a farm truck."

She turned at the sound of the door opening and her eyebrows rose
almost to her hairline when she saw the collection of vintage cars
behind the rising doors. I guess I had forgotten to mention how much I
enjoyed restoring old vehicles, not just the truck.

I donned the chauffeur's cap I had hidden behind my back, and opened
the passenger compartment door of the classic Rolls, offering my hand
to help her in.

"Amazing!" she said in wonder as she took in the pristine condition of
the leather and the polished wood.

I climbed into the open driving compartment, and started the engine,
giving it a few minutes  to warm up. When it was purring like a
kitten, I pushed in the clutch and put the shift lever into first.
Just as I was about to let the clutch out, I heard the window behind
me slide open, and turned to see what my passenger wanted, being
careful not to release the clutch.

"Wait!" was all she said, then I heard the passenger door open and she
rushed around the front of the car to climb in beside me. "There!
That's much better! I won't have you treated like an employee!"

I grinned at her reminder of how I scolded her when we first met, and
slowly let the clutch out while giving it some gas. The powerful
engine made little noise as the Rolls slid smoothly out onto the
driveway.

"Will you come visit me, Nick?" Parminder asked, hopefully.

I met her gaze steadily and said, "Probably not, Parminder. I like
what I've got here, and don't particularly want to get mixed up with
that crowd. You probably wouldn't benefit from it either, since I tend
to speak my mind."

She nodded, understanding, but not pleased.

"You're welcome here, though." I said, "Anytime!"

I see her now, once or twice a year, and though we still enjoy sex
together, we're more like old friends. I've built the east fence
around the pool area so high that no one on those hills is going to
get a shot into that area, and I've covered the entire fenced portion
with reflective material that lets plenty of light through, but keeps
out prying eyes from helicopters and the like. It's not enough light
for sunbathing, but one must make concessions. Oh yeah, I now have a
kennel full of guard dogs that do a better job of discouraging
intruders than my signs.

When Parminder's not around, I roll back the reflective cover and let
anybody who wants to spend the money for a chopper take pictures of
me.  My drinking buddies and I got a good laugh the first time my
nudes appeared in National Enquirer, but now they're only good for a
few chuckles before the subject changes.  I will say, though, that the
local girls, of all ages, have shown considerably more interest in me
since those pictures started coming out! You'd be surprised how many
of them want to have sex by the pool!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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