I awoke in the morning, performed my toilet and dressed. As I finished my oatmeal, I spied the book, left open to my writings on Carmen. I left I casually flipped to the next page.

"George dreaded the upcoming tedium of another day with his classes. As he had some time on Wednesday morning, he wondered if it wouldn't be beneficial to use the power of the book on his school."

I was dumbstruck. I was surprised I hadn't thought of it earlier. I considered placing myself in the language department but I did not risking killing anyone or getting them fired. I decided to keep a light touch and keep it general. Being careful not to affect myself further and providing motivation, the final draft came out as this.

George Carfax is the most beloved teacher in Caym-by-the-sea senior school. All the girls find him attractive and hang on his every word. All the lads respect his intellect and think he is cool. They all want to learn all they can from him.

The faculty has nothing but the highest regard for George Carfax. The men speak of him in reverential tones and often seek his advice and approval. The women on staff are completely besotted with him. Depending on their age and marital status, the women range between wanting to mother him or be his girlfriend. A stranger may find the flirting going on in the faculty room shameful but everyone accepts it and does not make comment to outsiders. They think George deserves it.

The parents are rock solid in their belief that George Carfax can do no wrong. He is the best thing that ever came along. Secretly, each mother has speculated at least once about George Carfax bedding her and come up deciding he would be dynamite in the sack. (I know. I am a bastard. But if you knew my parents you wouldn't think I was that much of a bastard.) All of the fathers respect George Carfax. All the mothers and fathers happily defer to his authority and never even thing of questioning anything he does in the classroom or with his students.

The clock chimed so I closed the book and headed for school. The changes became apparent immediately. A parking space close to school had been left open for me, no small thing considering how heavily it was raining that morning. In the halls, everyone said "hello" to me. My class was a dream come true. Everyone was well behaved.

I was so infatuated with my dream class, it wasn't until halfway through second period that I noticed the girls. My lecture hall has the desks on rising steps. The girls sat in front rows baring themselves in the most unlady-like ways. Many deliberately flashed me their white cottons, lacy lingerie' or bare cunts underneath their skirts. Winks, licked lips and provocative unbuttoning or pencil motions were directed my way. And they laughed at my discomfort!

I was livid. I blushed, I stuttered and did my best to continue but they doubled and redoubled their efforts with each period. They abused me with the power of their young bodies.

I had no idea that girls of only eighteen could be so forward, really! All I wrote was "attractive." At the time it was just the best way I thought to get their attention. I realize now that many girls harbor a "teacher fantasy" and the book gave that fantasy reign. I was used to the occasional schoolgirl crush but this was beyond the pale. I wasn't about to take advantage of girls little more than half my age, even if they were legal.

The faculty room was heavenly. The matrons all brought me lunch and he younger things all sat at my table, laughing hysterically at my deliberately bad jokes and "accidentally" brushing against me. Miss Phelps, from math, ran her stockinged foot up my pant's leg and Ms. Stein, the archetypal gay divorcee', from chemistry passed me a most shocking note proposing a liaison in her storeroom. I was in heaven. Violet and Amy were still cold but no longer were they openly hostile. In the end, I favored the lovely Miss Phelps with a kiss on her hand and bowed out.

The rest of the day was simply glorious. I was more prepared for the sexual advances. All the students, regardless of reason, paid close attention. I performed more educating in that one day than in the whole past month. At day's end, sweet little Fatima asked for my help. I was happy to provide what little I knew. She had actually read Jane Eyre all the way through. I showed my appreciation. Watching her cute little Middle Eastern face light up was worth all the dung I put up with.

Perhaps too euphoric, I slid into my mini and began my drove home. I was almost out of town when I was surprised from my back seat.

"Hello. Where are we going?"

"Molly! What are you doing here?"

The chubby little redhead looked up at me freckles and all. "One of my mates, let me in." She through the brown wool army blanket off of her and wriggled into the passenger seat. "I wanted some time to speak with you, alone."

Just then the vicar himself pulled up next to me. I shoved Molly's head down onto my lap and waved causally. It was as I down shifted that I felt my zipper unfasten. I couldn't stop her, the vicar had just pulled ahead. Her mouth was warm and wet. "Her crooked teeth rasped on my shaft. Stop it, Molly." She didn't even slow down.

"You are so handsome, Mr. Carfax." She mumbled. Like that was supposed to quiet me. My cock had a mind of its own. It grew hard, filling her vulgar mouth. "And so bloody big! I bet you feel great. Teach a girl thing or two, wontcha?"

Molly was an ugly girl in the true sense of the word. She was fat, crass and a notorious roundheel. Her red hair was as rough and as dry as frayed copper wires. The idea of all the germs in her mouth repelled me. I held on, reciting Shakespeare, picturing Thatcher topless, anything to keep from ejaculation but this girl had her own techniques too. I was losing.

At last I came to an ungated country drive and pulled in until a bend in the road hid us from view. I used a fist full of red hair to pull her all the way off of me. It was then when I began to realize how huge my John Thomas really was. "Off Molly."

"But Mister Carfax...!"

"Off an out!"

Unwillingly, she complied and gathered up her things. "But how will I get home?"

"There's a motorcoach stop down this road. Now out!" I re-fastened my pants.

"I am so sorry. Let me explain."

I remembered grandfather's mistake. "If you want a chance to explain, you'll have it. But only if you don't mention this to anyone; not your girlfriends or anyone. I will know."

"I won't. I promise."

"See that you keep that promise." One of the great things about a mini is the small turning radius. I was able to use the lane to turn around.

Molly used her cell phone to call for a ride. She knew Fatima usually had her father's delivery truck at about this time.

I finished the rest of the drive weighing my options. Should I go home to the book? Or to the manor and Carmen? What would you have chosen?

I chose the manor. Truth to tell, I didn't like the book's growing influence on my life. So I ignored it. But I did want to change out of my suit before driving over. I entered my cottage nonchalantly. I resolved to just see what was written. I swore not to take up the pen and I meant it. I flipped open to the next page.

Fuck Fatima.

I laughed, recalling the girl's overprotective father. "Better than you have tried old boy." I sauntered off to leave a shit.

The book knew my weaknesses, better than I did.

After a change and a bite, there was the book just lying there, on my table, just begging for me to write in it. I just glanced on it.

Mr. Punjabi was a very clever man: clever and paranoid. The cameras he used to watch his shop recorded his family as well. He had used a simple mini-camera to bug his stepdaughter's room. Downstairs, in his shop, he heard every word of Fatima's conversation with her friend, Molly. He could hear how she found this man, (a man!) attractive. He could hear tell how this man made her young heart beat faster. How he helped her after school. He made her feel special. Every endearment made his blood boil hotter and hotter.

Then her friend, Molly, began to describe her lewd encounter with that Mr. Carfax, that pompous ass teacher of theirs. He watched as Molly's outstretched her palms farther and farther describing her teacher's monstrous cock. Fatima's eyes grew wider and wider. Molly stopped. Fatima giggled. He could take it no longer. That was why he dismissed his complaints earlier. She was having affair with him!

Leaving his precious cash register unguarded, he raged upstairs in a murderous fury. Heaven help his wife if she interfered with his discipline again.

The word "murderous" and "stepdaughter" rang my alarm. I couldn't wait. It was using present tense. I grabbed my pen and wrote.

But then, on the stairs, Mr. Punjabi reconsidered. A grown man might be just the thing little Fatima needed. A grown man was constant and earned a living. He took a deep breath and reigned in his temper. He recalled that older men were sought after in his home country. "If only she would have love an upstanding man, like that Mr. Carfax, then I would be at perfect ease." He thought. He felt his pulse rate steadying. "Yes. Perhaps an older man is what that frivolous Fatima needs." He resolved to be kinder to her from then on. He never felt the need to beat her or her mother again or even close.

With sweet little Fatima and her mother out of danger I took a deep breath and then decided to teach the old man a lesson. Before I wrote out of mercy. Now I wrote out of wrath, a mistake, I know.

As he walked down the stairs, Mr. Punjabi mulled over the mating of his daughter and Mr. Carfax in his head and the idea warmed in his belly. The warmth spread to his loins. Just the thought of that manly Carfax man in the intimate company of his stepdaughter aroused his manhood. Curious, he thought of his wife husbanding the man and the arousal shot to a fever pitch. He managed to duck into a closet before he dropped his pants and wanked off to the idea of his wife and daughter being enjoyed by Mr. Carfax. He knew that no other man would do for this fantasy. His orgasm was superior to all his previous orgasms combined. As he recovered he accepted this as his fetish. He would be a cuckold for Mr. Carfax and relish it.

It was terrible, I know, but I was working without a draft in an emergency situation. What was really terrible was the book had pulled me in deeper. My simple desire to get my schoolgirls' attention had exploded into very unethical behavior. Now I was responsible for Molly, Fatima and Mrs. Punjabi.

In a blush of shame, I grasped for some way to make it up to the girls and still find a pretense to keep my secret. Molly was fat, Fatima was soft and her mother was flabby. I thought healthy exercise would be good for all involved. They needed to loose weight. The girls needed something to do besides chase boys and the mother needed something to escape her house.

Molly, Fatima and Fatima's mother had their own cycling group. They had been cycling consistently for four years. They told each other secrets and no other person on those long rides and only on those long rides when no one else could hear.

Then I shut the book. Maybe I was thinking about their health. Maybe I was thinking something worse. I rushed off to Carfax manor, hoping to avoid what I had just done, trying to focus on the inventory. But Carmen greeted me at the door. I had forgotten to undo my excesses. Her uniform dress was very low cut and very revealing. Grandfather must have been out.

"Ah, Master Carfax. Welcome. Shall I meet you in the library with the usual refreshments?"

"Please." My pulsed raced. All shame was washed form my mind at the sight of her bosom.

As we walked she talked. She walked a bit ahead of me and swayed, displaying her backside virtues. "Your grandfather is out but will be back for supper. Miss Carfax is at lesson but will return." We parted ways at the kitchen. She halted at the door, presenting her buxom profile to me. "I have taken liberty to prepare your snack so you will not waste study time, si?"

"Si, who?"

"Master Carfax." She giggled and bolted into the kitchen. I sauntered to the library and scanned in more cards.

Carmen entered carrying a tray and demure smile. She was enjoying the play as much as I. She placed her hands on her knees and bent in my direction. "Master Carfax's refreshments. Does Master require anything else?"

I stood and faced her. "Yes."

As she dropped she undid her hair. She remembered how much I enjoyed playing with it.

She wasn't just undoing my pants, she was undoing a dream come true. I must admit, I needed it. After the trauma of the day I need to feel in control. I needed to be the master. I know it was illusion.

Carmen sucked on my peter without regard for her own pleasure. She had never performed such a service before and it showed. But her eagerness to please was completely endearing. I instructed her in what I liked. I taught her suck my balls and scratch my ass. I taught her to tickle my cap with her tongue. She was a fast study. But I needed more. I had gotten head that day. I needed cunt. I bent her over the on the library's oversized table. She laughed with joy saying this was just what she wanted. And then I took her. Damn but my cock was huge. I could barely squeeze it in.

The sex was rough and uncomfortable for us both. Her pussy didn't secret enough. The table was too high. In the end, I ejaculated on the small of her back. We left both disappointed. Even as a god, I was a failure.

It turned out to be a good thing the sex was so short. I heard Beryl shortly after. She had tried to get one last piano lesson and failed. "Did you show her the coins?"

Beryl first looked fearful then dejected. "I sent the coins on to a broker and the delivery company called to report that they may have been lost due to a railway accident."

"Railway accident!" I knew the book was to blame. I still hadn't done as it had instructed and this was its warning.

Dinner was some dreadful instant Japanese pasta soup with frozen peas.

I couldn't wait to get back home. For the first time in memory, I chaffed in Beryl's company. I was furious she had been denied the music she loved. Today's lesson was to be her last, ever. The captain was gratefully terse with more bad financial news.

"Now the Township is looking to buy it."

"Who? Buy what?"

"The Manor and grounds, you nit. The township wants to buy the whole bloody thing."

"For ever why?"

"They want to turn the dell into an amphitheater for rock concerts. "

I shuddered to think of what that and all the accompanying construction would do to the old sheep meadows not to mention the watershed. "What about the golf course?" That was my best hope. The manor would be converted to a clubhouse and the grounds mostly preserved that way.

"Some damn feasibility study of that Caw's boy said there was more money to be made in 'special events. He wants to build holiday homes on the moors.'"

"And the woods?"

"A commons."

I was shocked. A commons was the worst possible news. At least a park would have a warden or a groundskeeper. All my attention had been for naught. Beryl exploded into tears and ran to her room. She locked her door to me and wouldn't come out.

That night, I went for a walk on the moors. Moors have their own charm. A man can be alone there with his thoughts. I had seen Caw's developments; Pepto pink houses surrounding lobes of black asphalt. It was rape; rape against my family. The winter clouds came in from the sea. I could hear thunder in the distance. It wouldn't do for me to be caught in one of our classic Southwest thunderstorms. Lightning deaths were common enough hereabouts.

The book awaited me.

I slammed the door to my cottage. "All right. I get the idea. 'Fuck Fatima is it? Fine. But I want Beryl's lessons back, the coins back and the manor out of the red. Got it? Or it's to blazes with you." I had to hit the lavatory before I took to writing.. That gave me some time to clam down. I turned up the heat poured myself a brandy and then threw open the leaves. A part of my reward was already there.

It was the most glorious day of Carmen's life. It was like every orifice was made for her beloved master. It was destiny, she was sure. She only hoped she met up to his measure. She had never liked even the idea of fellatio before but his penis changed all that. She loved the meaty feel of it filling her mouth. She loved the velvety head, the musky scent, and every little thing. She even found the way the hairs on his scrotum tickled her chin delightful. She couldn't wait to taste his semen. She was sure it would be divine.

As for George, he felt sure his family's fortune would improve. What concerned him now was corrupting sweet, innocent Fatima and now her mother. Fatima's mother ached for a child and George was going to give it to her. George, poured himself another tall vodka tonic and took up his pen.

The rest of the page was blank; an open invitation. I had upped the ante and so had the book. Now the mother was included. I poured myself a tall vodka tonic, and shut off the house lights . "Dark rooms for dark deeds." I had heard grandfather say more often than once. Then I drew up my writing lamps.

I tried to think of a way to fuck Fatima and her mother without spoiling them. First, I dealt with Molly.

Molly Fagan told no one but Fatima about her liaison with Mister Carfax. She was as good as her word. For the first time in her life she felt, if not love, then loyalty. She held true to her belief that he was different, a quality man. From then on, Molly sought out quality in all things.

The idea of sex with a Carfax still made her weak in the knees but she was patient. Her friend, Fatima, seemed interested in George Carfax too, and that was fine by her. She wasn't the jealous type and she had shared her affections often enough. Meantime, she would kick up her heels at all the lads and wait to deliver the sly wink to Carfax.

It was time to deal with Fatima. I couldn't put it off any longer. I refilled my drink and my pen.

Fatima came to think of Mister Carfax as a sort of prince and she the fair maid. His maturity dazzled her. She felt warmth in her cheeks, her heart beat faster and her pussy itched whenever he was near. She was enough of a woman to know what that meant. She wanted him to make love to him very much. He would be her first. There might be others but he would be the perfect one to show her the way. She wasn't afraid or doubtful. She was in love with him, at least for now.

Now for her father. Between the drafting and the scribing, I needed another drink.

Mr. Punjabi's plan was simple. He would invite Mr. Carfax to dinner and let him alone with his beautiful stepdaughter and wife. He would spend the day preparing. First, he needed to talk with his wife. She would be obedient. With ant luck, she would find him handsome.

I freshened the tumbler with vodka as I considered the mother.

Since the new school year, Mrs. Punjabi had a new lover, at least in her mind. Each time her new husband grappled with her, she would picture it was Mister George Carfax between her legs. The more perfect her imagination, the more perfect the orgasm. As she cuddled with her man in post coital bliss, she would cover him in the blanket of her long hair and fantasize that she finally had another baby swelling in her belly. A couple of weeks ago, she had notice her daughter's lustful gaze on the teacher and looked on with approval. "Of course, she wants him, like mother, like daughter." She thought. "He is the most virile, handsome man I have ever seen. I would be very happy if she had such a great man as a lover." A few years ago she would have taken him herself. She was the most beautiful girl in her old town. Even now, time barely left a mark, she could try and have him now.

Shortly after she took a bike ride with just her and the two had a woman-to-woman talk. Both mother and daughter admitted their attraction to the man and their common loathing for their current income earner. Such a bonding took place! They debated who should have him, both offered to step aside for the other. In the end, they decided to share him, like the women did in the old days. Their plan was simple. They would trick their male into inviting him to supper on the his darts night. Then they would seduce the Cornishman.

When her husband broached his idea with her, she did not leap with joy. She played it coy. If she wanted her to go along with her husband's lust, he would have to buy her new dresses and jewelry. He took her shopping that very day. He gave her his credit card and cart blanche while he purchased things that would make his voyeurism comfortable.

George did get her pregnant with a beautiful baby girl. (girls didn't inherit in my family) His daughter would be healthy and clever. She would have her father's gift for language and all the best features of her mother. Her stepfather was content to raise her as his own and always did right by her, as did her mother and sister.

I left it there and poured myself another. I passed out on the sofa. I slept fitfully. In half-dozed nightmares, I remembered the self-loathing that took place when I failed with Carmen. She gave me the reproachful look that so many women gave me before.

The book fixed that for me! Not me. The book, like it felt sorry for me! Indignant beyond words that a book should arrange my sex life, I resolved not to let it happen again. I would be fantastic in sack right from the start. Half asleep and half drunk rolled off the sofa and scrawled.

George Carfax is a sexual god. He is built like an Apollo. He instinctively knows what every woman likes and just the way she likes it, even if she doesn't know herself. He divines every little pleasure point and zone in their body. He can deliver the goods. His balls never fatigue. He is a tireless master of the erotic arts.

I was drunk enough that I slipped tenses with my next paragraphs.

For Fatima and her mother it was the best sex either could imagine. It seemed all George Carfax's cock had to do was touch them and they orgasmed. Their tits seared at his kiss and burned for his lips when they weren't there. They shared his cock like a lolly with mother showing the daughter how. They couldn't taste enough of his flesh. Their long fingers lovingly explored his pleasure spots.

George didn't give them a wink of sleep Fatima was almost compelled to dive on his cock whenever it presented itself. His semen became her ambrosia. Her mother cheered her on but she had her own needs. The mother wanted a new life in her womb. Fatima cheered her mother on. She had wanted a baby sister for years. They found the other making love to George exquisitely beautiful and they joined in. Fatima's pussy became her mother's mango, her sweetest nectar. Her mother's pussy became Fatima's sacred well of sex. But the two never lost focus on the object of lust, George Carfax.

In the end, George gave the Mrs. a new, beautiful bairn, Fatima a taste for cum and both a yearning for ménage a' trois. All of them were completely loyal to the House of Carfax, and completely discreet. They were able and willing to hold their emotions in check until a proper time and place. As for Mr. Punjabi, he would always like to watch and, whatever the great Carfax said, perform like the loyal right hand man he was.

I closed the book resolved to never let the damned thing let me fail me again.