DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times.

Note:

This text was originally submitted for a contest held a few years ago to explain
Celeste's temporary [alas, now permanent] absence from Celestial Reviews on
ASSM. Some readers have become confused between the author, the narrator, and
characters in the story. One reader even suggested there may be some
autobiographical reference involved. This is naïve, but understandable for
several reasons. First, the name of the putative author, Homer Vargas, is also
the name of a character in the story. Second, although the story is written in
the impersonal third person, at various points the narrator speaks to the reader
as "I," seeming, thereby to pierce the veil between author and narrator.
Finally, the character "Homer Vargas," also claims to be a writer of erotic
stories as the putative author would appear to be.

Readers should not be distressed by these shenanigans as other writers such as
Phil Roth, Johnny Updike, even Homer's own cousin, Mario Vargas Llosa, have done
the same. Nor is this a new literary device. You probably remember that Mickey
Cervantes in Book Two explicitly poo-poos any correspondence between himself and
the author of Book One of "Don Quijote." Doubts have even been expressed about
the authenticity of Homer's own namesake, although most scholars now agree that
both The Oddessy and The Iliad were written either by Homer or by someone with
the same name.

Professor Gail Myrthwright has an excellent treatment of the problem of
subject/frame interaction in her recent thesis, "Exhibitionism and Self
Reference in Internet Erotica." In her paper, Professor Myrthwright cites
dialogue of Mercedes Cortez a character in "A New Infection," also by Homer
Vargas (or someone with the same name) to explain the phenomenon:

"But, Vivian, can't you see, deconstruction of a text ALWAYS requires attention
to the semiotic conventions of time and place. I find your attempt at
a-historical analysis futile, at best. A deeper analysis . . . uuh, yes, a
little deeper. DEEPER, Darling. You KNOW how Mommy likes it! Oh, oooh, OOOOH!"

While holding in tension the dialectic so well expressed by Dr. Cortez, Ms
Myrthwright also presents us with the contrarian view which Vargas puts in the
words of Vivian Wu in the same story:

"Mechas, my dear, you simply fail to recognize the importance of STRUCTURE. A
hermeneutic exegesis of a messages can no more be disguised by convention than
can the language in which it is transmitted. With a little more time I know I
can explain it to you. I'm really so close. YES! So CLOSE. Work that tongue,
you bitch, ...AYYYYY!"

Those interested in a broader, if somewhat popular, treatment of issues of self
reference, should see "Godle, Escher, Bach" by Douglas R. Hofstadter. The rest
of you, who may be tiring of this postmodernist horseshit by now, can go right
on to the story below.

Celeste Withdraws by Homer Vargas vargas111@yahoo.com

I know a lot a people have been wondering why Celeste has withdrawn
"temporarily" from publishing the Celestial Reviews. I don't suppose anyone
actually believes the phony explanation she put out in CR 310. Hard disk crash.
Haa! The story is a lot more complicated. Incredibly, it started with the
marital problems of a minor pornwriter, "Homer Vargas," thus . . . .

Homer loved his Angela.

He loved her deeply, totally. She was his light, his life. Even after thirteen
years of marriage, she still had the smashing figure of a woman in her twenties.
People constantly expressed amazement that she was old enough to be married and
even more that she could be the mother of a twelve year old daughter. His Angela
was just beautiful. Every day at work, Homer yearned to get home to her. She
filled his thoughts and she filled his dreams. Unfortunately, she did not fill
his arms.

Homer had met Angela when he was working in South America. They had been
virgins when they married; Angela because of very traditional, protective
parents and convent education; Homer because Anglo girls in his small Southern
high school just didn't find big brown boys with funny accents very attractive.
In State University, even the few Latina women were more interested in the Black
and WASP "jock" types, so he had been very frustrated. When Homer met Angela
and she let him hold her hand on the very fourth date, he was in heaven. No
other girl had ever let him take such liberties with her body. Within a month
or two, Angela was letting him feel her titties. She was beautiful, intelligent
and she had shown she really liked sex. What more could he want in a wife?

The problem seemed to start when they came back to the United States and had
Cindy, bang-bang, almost as soon as they were married. Angela hadn't really
planned to have a baby so soon; it just happened. Homer guessed she became
frightened by her own fertility. Angela's mother had had thirteen children;
Angela must have wanted to avoid anything like that. She was determined to
finish her degree and to have a career. Cindy was a setback and she said they
weren't going to have any more babies for a while.

Angela was one of those women who could not take the pill, so they had to use
the rhythm method. (They tried using condoms a couple of times, but by the time
Homer got the damn thing on, he'd lost his erection. This did not seem to upset
Angela.) Unfortunately, Angela's period was pretty irregular. On average it
was short, but occasionally she could go thirty or more days. Those of you who
know about how the rhythm method works know that means they had a very narrow
window of "safe" days each month.

After Cindy was born Angela decided that to reduce the risk, they would have to
stop having sex so frequently. They hadn't been having sex that frequently,
anyway. Homer took it badly. Sex was very important to him. He thought was
the ultimate way of saying "I love you" to the most desirable woman in the
world. Maybe it was difficult for Angela, too at first, but through some kind
of internal discipline, she seemed to convince herself that she didn't really
want sex that much. Once or twice a month seemed fine with her. Once or twice?
Many times they were (Homer was) still eagerly awaiting the "safe" days when
Angela's period showed up unexpectedly early and he had to start counting all
over again.

The standard advice for couples using the rhythm method is to use "other means"
to express love and affection during those days. Angela, however, was very
conservative and reacted with disgust when Homer tried to pleasure her with his
fingers or -- worse -- with his mouth on her pussy. He got them a copy of "The
Joy of Sex" and once or twice after reading it Angela brought herself to place
her lips on tip of his penis, but she just couldn't force herself to put it in
her mouth. Thus, for most of each month they ended up not having sex of any
kind.

Don't get the wrong impression, Homer was sure Angela did love him, but she
began to think that love didn't need to include sex. They had much in common in
addition to their daughter. Angela was a great cook and they enjoyed reading
and listening to classical music together. She did all those sweet "wifely"
things like straighten his tie, tell him when his socks didn't match, and keep
an eye on his weight. Homer knew that if he looked a lot better than most guys
his age, it was because of Angela. He didn't think she meant to be cruel in
denying him sex; he suspected that she really did not understand just how much a
man needs it.

Since she was intent on their not "doing it" most days, Angela became reluctant
to let Homer be too "lovey-dovey." Over the years, she began to reject his
kisses, took a dislike to being hugged or cuddled, and would seldom let him even
touch her beautiful tits, which she was constantly complaining were "too big."
"What's got into you, Homer?" she would protest if he forgot and tried to take
her hand or slip his arm around her waist. She probably felt (maybe with some
justification) that he was trying to seduce her. Perhaps she feared that if she
allowed herself even a little sexual pleasure, she would loose control and go
"all the way" and another trip to the maternity ward would be the result.

Homer was going crazy. He tried doing all those things that are supposed to
make women melt. He sent her flowers, but she berated him for being silly or
thanked him because they made "the house" look nice. He asked her to go out on
romantic evenings for dinner, but she thought it was a waste of money. (Even
then his company was starting to take off and there was always enough money for
entertaining members of her family.) Angela didn't like to drink, so sharing a
bottle of wine over a quiet dinner at home was out, too.

Homer had the idea of their taking dancing lessons together, but that was
another disaster. Angela hated it and constantly criticized the other women
there for wearing short skirts and heels (the things Homer has always wanted
Angela to wear) to "show off their legs." He began to leave those women's
magazines with articles on how to keep the "spark" in your marriage lying
around. Angela wasn't buying. She was determined to make sure that no sparks
led to no fires.

More and more Angela dressed to minimize her innate attractiveness, although she
could never be unattractive to Homer. She would never wear high heels; deciding
they hurt her feet. She wouldn't wear earrings; the clip ons pinched and she
was allergic to the wires in the pierced kind, so she said. She preferred the
triple protection of baggy slacks with pantyhose over panties. When Angela
"had" to wear as skirt, it was always loose and a little longer than the fashion
-- never with a slit and never above the knee. Homer tried buying her shorter,
tighter skirts, but Angela wouldn't put them on. The sexy pajamas he got for
her birthday or anniversary or Valentine's Day languished in the bottom of some
drawer. Bangles, bracelets, and necklaces she found gaudy. Homer didn't even
bother asking about an ankle chain or tattoo.

Homer had grown up as an only child and had always wanted lots of children.
One, admittedly pretty perfect little girl, was not enough for him. Angela,
however, just fawned over dozens of nieces and nephews and seemed content with
Cindy. Homer, too, thought their nieces and nephews were cute, but cursed his
fate that while all of Angela's sisters and sisters-in-law were having three and
four kids for their husbands (one sister in law had eight!), Angela would give
him only one. And not all those marriages were happy ones. Angela's sister
Margarita, for example, was married to an alcoholic who beat her and Consuelo's
husband spent all his money on his mistress with whom he had a child. Yet
Margarita had had two boys and two girls for her man. Consuelo had given her
cheating SOB three girls and a boy and was pregnant again. Even worse for Homer
was putting up with Angela's relatives who wondered aloud why they didn't "go
for a boy," as if he wouldn't be just as overjoye
d to have four or five more little girls competing for their daddy's attention!

Little by little having more kids and the resentment that Angela refused to let
him make her pregnant again got to be almost an obsession with Homer.
Everywhere he went he noticed pregnant women, women nursing babies, women with a
brood of kids. Whenever he saw an attractive woman with a man, Homer wondered
how long it would be before the guy had her pregnant. He looked at balding,
pudgy guys with three or four kids and ground his teeth. What had HE done to
deserve this torture?

All this was mixed up with sex or the lack of it. At night Homer would lie
awake next to his sexy wife, yearning to reach over and touch her and knowing it
would only anger her. Outwardly he looked like the luckiest man alive -- a
beautiful wife, his company doing better and better, a pretty, intelligent
daughter -- but he wanted more sex and more kids. Life seemed so unfair.

Why didn't Homer have an affair, you ask? I told you already; he loved Angela.
He wanted her, not another woman. He wanted Angela to be the mother of his
children; look at their success with Cindy. For the same reason he never
seriously considered divorce.

At last he decided to have a serious talk with Angela. Luckily, Cindy was at a
friend's house on that Friday night and they could be alone. It wasn't easy,
but he told Angela about his feelings, how he loved her, but how he needed for
their love to be physical, too. He admitted he wished she would dress more like
the sexy woman she was. And finally, could they never have another baby?

Angela exploded. "So, that's all you want! To dress me like a whore and fuck me
'till I'm pregnant!

"No, of course not, Honey Maybe I said it wrong. I meant ..." Homer collapsed
in tears. He couldn't believe what he was hearing from his wife. Seeing him
cry only riled her more. In the heat of anger she said that she didn't love
him, that he had never satisfied her sexually and never would!

That's when Homer got mad. *He* -- who had suffered blue balls 360+ days of
each of the thirteen years they had been married because *she* refused to have
sex, -- had not satisfied *her!* Did she think sex was a spectator sport in
which the man "performed" to please his woman? Homer knew Angela had never had
an orgasm, but was that just his fault? She never allowed herself to try!

Homer knew he needed help but who? A woman, of course, a good Catholic like
Angela, someone intelligent that Angela would respect, but most important, a
woman with a sense of humor who loved sex. It didn't take long to light upon
the ideal woman. He thought of the woman who once said that one of his stories
was "disgusting," but that she had laughed her head off and then "done the
dirty" with her happy husband. -- Celeste.

Homer decided to track Celeste down. It wasn't as hard as you think. Have you
ever heard of "iso-logues"? They are lines linguists can draw on detailed maps
marking the way that people in different regions of the country use words. For
example in some places people say "nobody" in others, "no one." Generally,
linguists can demarcate exactly where more people use one and where the other.
That is but a very obvious example, but these maps are far more subtle. Word
frequency, word placement, grammar, syntax, all can be analyzed and, in
Celeste's case, they were.

Homer put his company's programmers on it. Every sentence Celeste had ever
written in over three hundred Celestial Reviews went into a huge database. Of
course Celeste had told everyone some things about herself that were plausible
-- married with daughters, Catholic, English teacher in a high school.

Homer's linguistic map located her to the western half of a certain rural county
in a medium size state. His private investigators found there was only one sexy
English teacher in the local high school. Guess what; she was Catholic,
married, and had two daughters. Bingo! Homer had Celeste!

Celeste didn't reply to his first e-mail. He didn't expect her to. Then he
mentioned the name of her husband and her oldest daughter's best friend and
hinted he would expose her. "What do you want?" Celeste finally wrote back.

Homer knew what she thought -- that like millions of other ASSM readers, he
fantasized about shagging the sexy English teacher. But Homer was in love with
Angela. He told Celeste to meet him in the bar of a large hotel in a medium
size city near her home. He was reasonable about allowing her to find a time
that would not arouse suspicion in her husband, but Celeste was very
apprehensive, suspecting the worst.

Homer had told her how to recognize him, a tall brown man with a mustache and a
red cravat. He had the pictures his private investigators had obtained. They
didn't do Celeste justice. He spotted her the instant she walked in -- long
straight brown hair. slim but with large breasts and the roundness of a woman
who had borne children. She wore a business suit cut just a little bit
provocatively, heels, large earrings. Celeste had read his stories and had
decided to dress to please him.

"How did you find me?" she asked, upset, but not able to restrain her curiosity.
"I though my system with AOL was foolproof. I'm going to sue the bastards!"

"You'd better not or I won't be the only one who knows who you really are.
Besides, that's not how I found you." Homer explained how innocent information,
a few lucky guesses and the linguistic maps had uncovered her identity. Celeste
had been drinking heavily as he explained her undoing. As he spoke, she
realized she was trapped. The combination of the liquor and the despair was
fatal. She broke down in tears.

"Oh God! No, no" she sobbed. "You are going to blackmail me and I'll have to do
anything you say. I know what's going to happen now. You must be able to see
how wet I am." Celeste was becoming hysterical "You're going to take me to your
hotel room to fuck me senseless in front of video cameras. In the elevator you
will reach up under my skirt and discover I'm not wearing panties. You're going
to finger me to an orgasm that will leave me incoherent."

"Celeste," Homer tried to break in

"I can't believe this is happening to me. I was a virgin when I married. I've
always been faithful to my husband," she wailed. "Why is my body betraying me
like this, at the worst possible time of month when I'm ovulating?. Oh! It's
your magnificent cock; it mesmerizes me. You are going to lay me back and eat
my pussy until I am so hot I can't make you use a condom."

"Celeste, Celeste! You have been reading too many slutwife stories," he tried
again without success.

"You'll have me in an overpowering rut. I'll spread my legs for you and beg you
to make me pregnant, plead with you to put a little brown bastard in my white
womb that I can never explain my husband. I'll scream for you to place your
cock at the opening of my dripping fuck hole and to slowly split ..."

"Celeste, stop it! Stop it!" He shook her a little. "This story is a (Cons.
Rom.)." Celeste opened her eyes in confusion as her fantasy dissolved. Her
breathing began to become more regular. "And even if it weren't," Homer
grinned, "Whatever I was slowly going to split, Celeste, it sure wouldn't be
your infinitive!"

The implication of his words hit her like a tank. Celeste collapsed in
mortification. Realizing that in the heat of passion, she, ASSM's Goddess of
Linguistic Purity, had committed a grammatical error, devastated the poor woman.
Knowing now she would be putty in his hands, Homer told Celeste his story.

*****

"So all you have to do is make Angela into a sexy, cockloving woman like you,"
he concluded.

Of course Celeste tried to say she couldn't do it, that she was just an English
teacher not a psychologist, but Homer knew she had done counseling and insisted
she try. It was that or the PTA of ____burg would have some very interesting
new gossip about one of its English teachers. Celeste agreed.

Money was no object. Homer set Celeste up as a language coach in a house in his
city during her school vacation. Angela's pronunciation really did need some
polishing, so it fit. Homer didn't know just how Celeste turned their
practicing of vowel sounds and syntax into "girl talk," but since sex is never
very far from Celeste's mind, he guessed it wasn't too hard.

Celeste was astounded at Angela's attitude and soon found herself genuinely
interested in trying to help the benighted woman. "You don't know what you're
missing, honey" Celeste told her, grinning.

"You mean that you just let your husband *do it* all the time?" Angela asked
incredulously.

"At least every day, babe, more if I can on weekends."

"But you already have three children and you said you don't want any more. Why
don't you make him stop?

"Because I love my husband and I love getting fucked," Celeste replied.

"But Homer wants to do those - *things*," Angelica explained, shivering with
disgust"

"What *things* do you mean?" Celeste asked, although she was afraid she knew.

"He tries to put his mouth on my breasts. And if I didn't stop him he would put
his *hand* between my legs. One time he even tried to put his *mouth* down
there!"

"But of course, dear. That's the way men gets us warmed up to enjoy the main
event."

"Oh, Celeste, don't say things like that. You sound like one of those horrible
women. The sisters told us only whores actually enjoyed "doing it."

"Are you calling me a whore, Angela?"

"Oh, no, Celeste. I'm sorry! But I just don't know what to think."

"The sisters at your school were probably like the ones at mine. They were
feeling guilty about seething with desire and masturbating in their cells at
night and projected that guilt on us. Sex is supposed to be pleasant. A few
good orgasms every day make you feel great!"

"What is an 'orgasm' anyway? Even when I was letting Homer do it when I wanted
to have a baby, nothing 'happened.'"

"The woman has to help make it happen, darling. You've got to let Homer touch
you and feel you up good. Relax and tell him what you like and don't like. My
husband knows that I like to have him chew my ear and tongue my neck. Each of
us has different things that turn us on. Don't be in a hurry and don't let him
be."

"You mean I have to just lie there and let him arouse me, make me 'want' it?"

"Of course you don't just lie there! You are the director of the orchestra.
And don't just tell him what you like. Moan appreciatively when he hits a
sensitive spot. Kiss him back with all you've got. Play with his prick. Kiss
*his* nipples."

"But why did I never get an orgasm though he always did?"

"It's nature, honey. For a man, having an orgasm is like learning to walk.
Unless his equipment is badly defective, it happens. For us, having an orgasm
is more like learning to cook. If you never try, it never happens. And the
more you practice, the better you get. But Mother Nature gave us something to
compensate for having to work a little harder. We can have one after another."

"What!" Angela asked in disbelief.

"Maybe I'd better show you." Celeste smirked.

"Celeste, no!" Angela protested, but Celeste suspected that their sexy talk
might have Angela more aroused that she realized. Besides, Celeste had taken
the precaution of spiking Angela's orange juice with Absolute 100 and her pupil
was a bit tipsy.

More than most women, Angela was shy about her body. She tried to push Celeste
away when the teacher reached over to fondle her older pupil's breast. "Let,
me, Angela. You are so gorgeous. You must torture poor Homer by not letting
him do this." Celeste said, fondling Angeles's tits through her blouse. "Your
tits must be beautiful, honey. Let me see them," she whispered even as she
unbuttoned the blouse of Homer's unresisting wife. Even as she removed Angela's
bra and began stroking her boobs, Celeste was planning her next move.

"You 'are' beautiful, honey. These titties deserve to be worshipped and
kissed," Celeste said, demonstrating. Angela moaned as Celeste expertly tongued
the nipples. "Teach Homer how to do this and let him make you a happy woman,"
Celeste whispered and unzipped Angela's skirt.

The sensations of having her tits sucked by Celeste's talented mouth prevented
Angela from realizing that Celeste now had her stripped down to just her
panties. Interrupting her work, Celeste gently stood Angela up and led her to
the bedroom where the dazed pupil let Celeste remove her panties before laying
her on the big bed.

Celeste stooped to admire. Angela was as beautiful as Homer had told her,
especially her pussy. Celeste knew there was nothing that makes a woman more
unique than her pussy. She had seen and tasted plenty of them. They came in
all different sizes, colors and shapes; some were tucked inside like a little
girl's cunnie and some had thick luscious lips that come out to greet you. Some
were nested in bushes of fur and others are covered with transparent fuzz. She
appreciated Angela's wild, unused qualities and told her, although not in those
words.

Women are a good deal more verbal than men, especially during love-making.
Celeste knew that her husband could almost make her come just by telling her
what he was about to do. Maybe that was one of Homer's mistakes, she thought.
"Oh, Angela. baby. You have the cutest pussy. Let me make it wet for you, so
wet," she whispered all the time she was petting and stroking her. "That's it,
honey, let me love your beautiful pussy."

Gently Celeste pulled the lips apart and looked at Angela's inner lips, giving
them their first, playful lick which made her shudder. Next Celeste spread the
tops of Angela's unvisited pussy until she found her clit. She blew it a soft
salute, but avoided touching her there yet. Celeste would work up to that
slowly. Before she had Angela sufficiently aroused, her clit would be too
delicate to be handled. Celeste stalked Angela's pussy slowly, knowing that
women, even more so than men, love to be teased. She zeroed in on the inner
part of her victim-lover's thigh, a most tender spot. She licked it, kissed it,
made designs on it with the tip of her tongue. Celeste came dangerously close
to Angela's pussy, then floated away. Celeste made Angela uncertain about just
when she would strike.

Suddenly Celeste was licking the crease where Angela's leg joined her pussy.
She felt Angela quiver as she nuzzled her face into Angela's untamed bush.
Brushing her lips over Angela's now flowing slit without pressing down further
excited Homer's inexperienced wife. Celeste had her! Soon Angela was bucking
up from the bed, straining to get more of Celeste to her. It was time. Celeste
put her lips right on top of Angela's slit.

Celeste kissed her, gently, then harder. With her tongue, Celeste separated
Angela's pussy lips and when she opened up, her seductress ran her tongue up and
down between the layers of Angela's pussy flesh. Gently she spread Angela's
unresisting legs more with her hands.

Gently, ever so gently, Celeste began to tongue-fuck her. Angela's moans of
arousal and frustration told her she was teasing my wife unmercifully. Now,
far from rejecting the sweet manipulation of her sex as degrading and perverted,
Angela was dying for some attention her clit. Celeste took a quick look.
Angela's clit had gotten hard enough to peek out of it's covering. Angela
wailed when Celeste licked it and again when she licked harder, pressing into
her skin.

Gently, Celeste pulled the pussy lips aside flicked her tongue against Angela's
uncovered clit. She did it quickly. Angela's legs shuddered. Sensing that
Angela was approaching orgasm, Celeste made her lips into an O and took the clit
into her mouth. Starting to suck gently, Celeste looked up at Angela's face for
her reaction. She could handle it so she began to suck harder. Angela was
responding enthusiastically. "Typical," thought Celeste. The frigid ones are
always the hottest, once you cracked their shell. She sucked harder. Angela
lifted her pelvis into the air with the tension of her rising orgasm. Celeste
hung on, keeping her hot mouth on Angela's clit. "Don't stop. Please! Don't
ever stop!" Angela wailed.

Celeste was pleased with Angela so far but she wanted to do something else to
intensify the naïve woman's pleasure. She began to finger-fuck Angela who was
enjoying her teacher's cunt- licking talents. Celeste made for the sensitive
area at the roof of her vagina. This is what drove Celeste crazy when her
husband fucked her. Well, there was no cock handy so her fingers would have to
do the fucking.

Wetting them with Angela's flow, Celeste slipped one then two fingers into the
aroused woman's pussy. She slid them inside, rubbing slowly at first, then a
little faster, massaging her G spot rhythmically with a "come here" motion.
Celeste paid careful attention to Angela's responses, speeding up only when her
pupil did. Angela's ragged breathing told Celeste what to do. Sucking Angela's
clit and finger-fucking her at the same time, Celeste was giving Angela far more
stimulation than Homer would be giving her with a cock alone. She could feel
Angela's almost uncontainable excitement. Homer's aroused wife turned red and
began to tremble.

Even when Angela's orgasm broke, Celeste didn't let go of her clit, hanging on
for the duration. When Angela started to come down from the first orgasm,
Celeste pressed her tongue along the underside of Angela's clit, leaving her
lips covering the top. Gently, she moved her tongue in and out of her cunt.
Her fingers were still inside and she began to move them a little too, gently
though, knowing how sensitive Angela would be just now. Bingo! Angela was off
towards another climax.

Not content to make her come, Celeste wanted to make Angela a love-slave. She
didn't leave her leave her alone just yet. She talked to her, stroked her body,
caressed her breasts, pinched her nipples. She continued making love to her
quietly until Angela had floated all the way down.

"Oh Angela, baby, you come so good! You love it. Why don't you let Homer do
this?" Celeste asked.

"My God! I've never felt anything like that. Is that what Homer wanted to do?"

"Of course not. Homer just wanted to please you. That's what *you* wanted him
to do, but didn't know how to tell him. He'll need lots of training. Men
aren't born knowing how to eat a pussy. You've got to show him. But if he
loves you, he'll keep practicing until he does exactly what you want."

"But if I let him do that, how will I be able to stop him from ... you know?

"Why would you want to?"

"I might not; that's the problem." If I let him make me come like that, he'll be
able to fuck me silly any time he wants. He'll keep me pregnant from now until
menopause. I'll have a house full of kids, just like Mamma." Angela had begun
to cry.

"Not necessarily, honey," Celeste said holding her close an comforting her.
"Talk to Homer about it. Let him make love to you without fucking on the days
you're fertile, if that's what you both want. But what would be wrong with
letting him have two or three more babies?. You are still young enough and you
know he can afford it. With child care, having babies need not interfere too
much with your studies."

"I think I'm about to find out," Angela smiled weakly.

*****

A few months later Celeste got another e-mail from Homer setting up another
appointment in the same hotel bar. She looked a lot less apprehensive when she
walked in this time. Smiling in her short yellow flock she came over and sat
down.

"I've got some good news and bad news," Homer grinned. "First I have to thank
you again for the change in Angela; she is one hot woman! Now she not only
fucks me like a twenty dollar whore, but afterwards she says 'thank you,' not
'sank you.' Better yet, I have her pregnant with a little girl. Can you guess
what we're going to name her?"

"Oh, that's so sweet of you, Homer. I'm so happy for you," Celeste said
sweetly, reaching over to take his hand. "So what is the bad news?" she
inquired.

"That's not the only change in Angela. She's become a real slut. I told her
about my stories and she has really gotten to enjoy them, especially some I
wrote under a former non de plume."

"Oh, I didn't know you had written under another name, but it sounds wonderful!
What's bad about that?" Celeste replied, puzzled.

"After reading my other stories, Angela isn't content with (Cons, Rom) anymore.
She thinks they're too tame. She wants me to make this story a (NC, Interr,
Wife, preg)," Homer replied, a cruel Dark Wandering gleam in his eye.

"Oh god! No, no" Celeste sobbed as the realization dawned on her.

"Yes, I can blackmail you and you'll have to do anything I say. Come here with
me." Homer could see how wet the horny teacher was as he led her toward his
hotel room to fuck her senseless in front of the video cameras. In the elevator
he reached up under her skirt and confirmed the gasping teacher wasn't wearing
panties. He fingered her to an orgasm that left her incoherent.

"I can't believe this is happening to me," Celeste wailed when they got to his
room. "I was a virgin when I married. I've always been faithful to my husband.
Why is my body betraying me like this, at the worst possible time of month when
I'm ovulating?"

"Because of this," Homer explained, fishing out his enormous cock. Mesmerized,
Celeste was helpless as Homer lay her back and ate her pussy until she was so
hot she couldn't make him use a condom. He had her in an overpowering rut. She
spread her legs for him and began to beg, "Oh, fuck me, Homer! Make me
pregnant. Please, put a little brown bastard in my white womb that I can never
explain to my husband. Put your cock at the opening of my fuck hole," she
screamed. "I want you to ... I want you to ... Slowly split My sopping slit"

Evil elation filled Homer as he saw how in only minutes he had corrupted the
Erstwhile Empress of Erotica. Reaching between her legs he expertly flicked her
indirect object with one hand and pinched the engorged modifier of a large
dangling participle with the other. In no preposition to object, Celeste let
Homer slide his first person singular into a pluperfect tense conjunction with
her direct object. The horny grammarian was in an subjunctive mood, long past
her interrogation point and her active voice rang out imperatively, "Fuck me!
Fuck me!" Homer had Celeste where he wanted her, on her hands and knees,
writhing in passion, over-using alliteration and splitting infinitives right in
the middle of her period.

Best of all he had made her do it doggerel!

*****

The rest, as they say, is history. Celeste's husband didn't understand how his
vasectomy could have "failed." Since he had never wanted the snip in the first
place, he was too elated at seeing his sexy wife's pregnant belly to ask
questions. When Celeste gave birth to a baby boy several shades darker that
either she or her husband, however, he took the girls and threw Celeste out with
her bastard offspring. She was also fired from her teaching position for
obviously immoral conduct. Unable to keep paying her AOL bill with her welfare
check, Celeste had no alternative but to invent a bogus reason and withdraw
"temporally" from publishing the Celestial Review.

Don't despair, however. Angela heard about Celeste and got on Homer's case
about her. Angela was pregnant again herself and during an especially good fuck
she pleaded with Homer to let Celeste move in with them, saying Celeste could
help take care for their growing second family. Homer knew Angela really wanted
to get between the sexy ex-teacher's thighs, but thought, why not? There was
plenty Celeste could still teach Angela about pleasuring and being pleasured.
In fact, Home promised Celeste that if she would let him get her pregnant again,
he would let her have her AOL account back. So keep an eye out. In about nine
months or so Celeste may be back to writing Celestial Reviews.