It was two in the morning when I woke up. I took off the mask and walked to my luggage. I rolled my bag, quietly into the sitting room. I shut the door behind me. I took the bag to the desk. As was my custom, I place the book on the desk with no light on but the reading lamp. During one of my lighter dozes, it occurred to me that I might want to keep it in the wall safe. It was big enough.

I moved the false panel aside. I typed in the code and opened the safe. There was soft, flickering glow beaming through the seam at the back of the safe. The safe was false!

I quietly shut it, tuned off the reading lamp, put the book in my bag and thought. On my way in, I remember seeing the plain door next to the suites big double doors. I assumed it was a storage closet. Now the mirrored surfaces of the room took on a more sinister aspect.

Molly had kept the lights on. I knew enough about one-way glass that it counted on light being on in the victim's room. "So she is in on it." I sweated. "Who knew what they did when my blindfold was on?" I reckoned the mirrored closet was the best place for observation. In theory, the mirrors in the ceiling could be false too, but I guessed the closet doors had a better angle. Mrs. Shamus was very careful to show me the closet was already filled to the brim and to show me to "my" wardrobe on the other side of the room.

How could I see into the "storage closet?" The balcony wrapped around in that direction. But I was naked. Then I saw the fox fur coat where I tossed it, on the wingback chair. I was desperate.

I slipped on the heavy coat and crept outside. I walked past the bedroom's closed French doors and continued around, past my bedroom where Molly slept, to where the railing ended. Three feet away, the balcony continued a short way. A large curtained window faced the small balcony. A light was on inside. Even a cursory glance at the railing in the streetlight revealed gate hinges. The balconies were meant to connect!

The hinges were so rusted that I crossed over the hard way. The concrete hurt my bare feet. I near froze my prick to the painted steel railing. If the curtain was in better repair I would not have been able to spy. As it was, ten plus years of ocean air and moths provided me with ample visibility.

There was Mister Punjabi, on a plastic folding chair, urging Fatima to suck him off. "Call me George, bitch!" It was good thing. If he wasn't so engaged in sex he would have seen me leave to the sitting room. I saw enough of a tripod to deduce that I was right about the mirrored closet doors. The rear of the closet must slide away and now a camera stood inside.

I also counted a TV cart. The TV's' glow was what I spied thought the safe's faulty seam. I could not see the images on the screen. It was facing Punjabi. I guess he had a pretty loose idea of what made a "right hand man." Fatima disappointed me too. My faithlessness in people was reinforced.

Before my feet went completely numb, I climbed back to my balcony and made it to the sitting room. It had a mirror but I checked. It was honest. I was alone. Perhaps bugged but that was all. This treacherous bridal suite certainly explained Tom Shamus', the former owner, untimely demise. Blackmail only works on the middle class. The lower class has nothing to loose. The rich, like all my school chum's families, had former Special Forces on the payroll that took care of just this sort of thing. The whole family must have known. "Why did they do this to me? They were supposed to love me." Ironically, I was hurt by their betrayal.

Back in the sitting room, I warmed myself by the fire and hid behind furniture with the book. I had to act fast. One of those new Pinhole Cameras could be anywhere.

I decided to start out with the widow, Sela Shamus, the current owner. I could not imagine anyone running this sort of game in her own place without her say-so. I focused my intuition on her. Her fantasy ran to her ex-husband: him faking his death, coming back and fucking her all night long like he used to. If the man was half the performer, in reality, as he was in Sela's mind, the man had my total respect. I would have felt sorry for Sela but for her blackmail scheme.

Beryl was better at reading people than I. For a moment I wished I could share with her about what I was doing to people. I hunkered down and did my best to figure my new opponents out, started with Sela Shamus. She changed when I changed my history.

What I guessed was that Tom's special hook into Sela wasn't just his well-endowed physical form. No, she had "hitched her wagon to a star." With such a powerful man, she felt invincible, an ultimate winner. It was this "top of the world" feeling that she loved so much. So when someone put a bullet in her hero's head, her entire world probably came crashing down.

Then I had written my historical vignette in the book. I made myself the talk of the town. A new star had arisen on her horizon. Sela tapped into that. It wasn't just that she wanted me, but that everyone else wanted me too. They got her blood boiling again. To get the victorious feeling back, her real opium, she gave up drink, gluttony and sloth. That little show in the classroom was must have been meant to pique my interest and separate me from the pretty young things in the class. She was marking her territory!

But why blackmail me? To make sure I date only her? Then why help out with Molly? I needed to get to the bottom of this.

As tempting as it was to call everyone together, small groups were more controllable. First I needed to ensure Molly's loyalty and silence. Then I would interrogate Punjabi. I would decide what to do then. Meanwhile, everyone would pay dearly for playing me for the fool.

Molly roused herself from slumber. Her lover, George, was not in bed with her. "Probably in the loo." She mused then the stretched like a cat. She let the deliciousness of her afterglow ripple through her. As a lover, George Carfax was beyond fantastic. She admitted to herself, she was his totally. She was his "wench." She giggled. That was the term, wasn't for a lord's kept peasant girl? She rolled the idea around in her mind, "Wench, mmmm." The more she thought about being kept the more she liked it, just cleaning around the manor, (Molly's second favorite thing to do in life was making things sparkle and antiseptically clean.), just waiting for George to fuck her. The fantasy made her heart beat faster and her pussy melt.

She heard a noise in the sitting room. His "wench" got on all fours, ass towards the door. She intended to have a little fun at his expense. She awaited her man's arrival. She heard the door swing open, and her man, yes her man...stood in the doorway, naked. She saw him between her legs. "Your wench awaits your pleasure, m'lord." He centered himself, entered and then something happened she did not intend.

The concept of being a 'wench" opened a door she did not know she had. The combination of the concept of complete servitude in mind, and then his taking her so dominantly awoke something deep inside of her. Flare's of orgasmic light illuminated the dark recesses of her mind, the parts that craved to release control, responsibility, the burden of daily life.

And George was so big! So masculine! Her femininity screamed, no begged, to be this man's thrall. In her heart of hearts she knew that being his wench was a far better fate than being a king's wife. The white light of truth and a searing orgasm riven her soul and her new self poured in to fill the void; the self that was of House Carfax, the self that would live for House Carfax, the would that would die for House Carfax, the self that would fuck for House Carfax.

As he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, she whispered all she knew. He simply said, "I know." And kissed her. Of course he knew, he knew everything, he WAS everything. She had met her destiny. She was Molly Fagan, George Carfax's wench.

"So as it is written, so let it be done." As I shut the book, I knocked over the reading lamp. It did not break. I decided to see if my writing took effect. I entered the bedroom. Molly had her pink arse in the air. I could see her vulva. I stepped up behind her and slipped in. I hoped Punjabi was getting all of this. It was interesting to see Molly's transformation. She went from an active participant to a willing victim. I doubted we would ever have as interesting evening together again. I cuddled with her and she told me what she knew.

We were being filmed. "It was Punjabi's, and the Shamus woman's idea. All I know was that money was involved. I just wanted you two so badly."

"Two?"

"Then she began to cry. "And I'm in love with your sister"

That surprised me. I had a million questions, but all I said was, "I know." Damn book. I stood up and in one swift motion, moved aside the closet's one-way glass door. There was Punjabi with his hand around his pecker beside a huge, humming camera.

"Wait! I..."

I belted him hard. With my new strength I darn near broke his neck. My hand hurt. But he was out cold. Fortunately, Fatima was still healthy and able to answer my questions.

"He and Amanda's mum, did it for money. That tape he made is selling for ten pounds each. The man at the video store promised him that if he was able to retrieve a tape of good quality, the profits would triple and he would get half.

Father was the Shamus' camera man before a London minister ended their crimes."

"This is an awful lot of trouble for just a tape."

"He can't keep copies in the store. The people come right back asking for more, men and women! No other will do. There is something about you, Mr. Carfax. The women want to be with you and the men want to be you. I am sorry, Mister Carfax, but watching that video of you and Molly, I couldn't help myself." She looked down at the sprawled figure of her father. "I don't think he can either."

"And Mrs. Shamus?"

"Dad said she needs the money, badly. This room was all ready."

Punjabi was out cold. "Fatima. I want to see you watching a new tape. Turn it on."

"Which one? There were three, not including the one in the camera."

"Pick your favorite."

I was expecting Molly and I making love. Instead Fatima was all fours, performing fellatio on my blindfolded form (I thought there was something odd). Molly was on her back , between Fatima's thighs, licking her pussy. They did take advantage of the blindfold.

Punjabi must have done this many times before. His approach was practiced and methodical.

I had seen better porn, but the effect it was having on Fatima and Molly was electric. Before the tape began, both girls were in the throws of guilt. The second the image became clear, they drowned me in lusty looks and shoved whole hands insides their privates. I left them in a sixty-nine and re-read my text regarding Punjabi's filming. In my effort to be general and applicable, I empowered he and I to make films that would take the watchers, any watchers, to erotic heights.

Right now, the "red light" folk of Caym were wanking off to my escapades with a shopkeeper's wife and daughter. I had always assumed that Punjabi's loyalty would come with a price tag. I guess the price had been met. I packed the tapes. And woke him up.

"I am so, sorry, George."

I crushed his balls in my hand.

He screamed, then restated "I said I was sorry."

"Now you mean it. I should kill you."

"Please, no. I am loyal. People love you, especially after they see the video. I was making you more popular, yes!"

"You are loyal? Having your daughter suck your cock in my name?" I crushed his balls again. "Don't bother to deny it. I saw you!"

"One moment of weakness that will never happen again. No one is more loyal."

"Fine. They you won't mind filming me and the Shamus women."

Punjabi stilled. "Nothing would give me more pleasure. The woman is a devil. It was her idea to go after the Minister that got poor Tom assassinated."

So he had a longer association with the Shamus' than I knew. Now I knew why Molly and Fatima were childhood friends. "Very well. There is an ice bucket in my room. Put your balls inside. I have work to do."

Feeling more secure, I used the office secretary desk. There was new writing. The book left me a suggestion, not a demand.

Try sympathy.

It read me like I was a book. It's subtle hint intrigued me. I thought about what it meant. I was far beyond using conventional sympathy. I used my linguistic skills. Perhaps it meant "sympathy" as in "sympathetic magic." The two tines of a tuning fork, humming in syncopation, but only one was struck, separate but the same: sympathy.

The widow Shamus' inn was failing. The guild from London's fancy new digs overshadowed any quaint charm hers possessed. Of course the inn's reputation for waylaying important strangers did not help. It was the holiday season and was barely at 40%.

It needed an influx of gold, desperately. Moneylenders are cowards, wishing to lend only to a large guild, like the Londoners. She racked her mind searching for aid. Then it occurred to her, the Carfaxes. They had capital. They were interested in keep money inside the little town. The noble family had acted like the town's unofficial bank for centuries.

The reason the name had occurred to her in the first place was because the family's second son was rogering his current wench in the bridal suite. She needed to talk with him. It was long after midnight. Oddly enough, this was her best time. During the day, she was too busy with the guests. But what pretense would she use? Was he even awake?

She walked out of her office and onto the chill patio. Lights were on in the sitting room and the bedroom. A shadow passed across the drapery. It was a good sign. But should she go alone? No. The Carfaxes understood family. They would loan her money, but only in exchange for a permanent alliance, a bond of blood. That's the way those people worked. Sometimes free was the most expensive price of all.

The more she thought about it, the idea seemed to be sound. Isn't that why the minister could kill Tom with impunity? Because he had friends in high places? Isn't that why the guilds could dodge zoning laws, because they had politicians, like Caw, in their pocket? Oaths of fealty had never gone away, only gone underground. Maybe it was time the Shamus' had friends of their own.

Her two lazy daughters were up late that night. With the bar closed, they had taken to getting drinking in their rooms. "Come on you lot. Time you did something for your family."

"Not fair, mum. You know we'd do anything to help." It was true the girls were the best helpers an inn could hope for. Amanda showed a head for management and finance. Colleen was a right good hand at repairs and ordering the help about. And both of them thought keeping things neat and tidy was great fun.

"Get dressed then. We're asking Carfax for money."

"Which one?" They both blurted out.

"George."

They scrambled. "I'll give you five minutes." She needed only four. Later that same night, Sela Shamus was discreetly knocking on the bridal suite door.

"Come."

Tentatively, she opened the door to Carfax. It was just him, alone, in his robe and slippers, lit by gaslight. "Yes?"

"I'm not disturbing you am I, my lord?"

"No. And I am not a lord. That's my grandfather." He shrugged. "Maybe my brother. Can I help you?"

Sela and her daughters entered the suite. "Yes. I saw the light and thought to inquire if you wanted something?"

"No. You came here to ask for something. I have been expecting you for quite some time. Do you want me to cut to the chase? No? Too bad. This inn is failing. Your credit is stretched to the limit. You need an influx of cash. This place reeks of decay. I'll have to check with my sister.

You seem surprised."

"Taken aback is all." She blushed. "Am I that transparent?"

"No. It's just that the situation is that obvious. I will ask my sister but I don't think she will agree. This is not a Carfax interest."

"Suppose we make it a Carfax interest."

That got his attention. "An alliance?"

"A quarter share and I run it."

"A half share."

"A third. All the work is mine."

"Done." Sela turned to leave. The girls looked disappointed. They were after something besides money. George let her get almost out the door. "One more thing. A mixing of blood." Sela feigned shock. "To make it a family interest in earnest. Your daughters seem willing." Both Amanda and Colleen were breathing hard. "You?"

Sela recalled the hard, huge, shaft she felt that day in his classroom. He was easily in her old Tom's league. "Very well." She took off her blouse. "A mixing of blood. Come on, girls". George led them to his bedroom. The closet glass door was shut and Molly got out of the way.

Something snapped in the Shamus women. When the sex and drinking and cavorting began, Molly slid the closet door aside. Punjabi entered with his camera. The Shamus women laughed and thought it great fun. They encouraged him and followed his direction.

It all came true. I wrote a parallel ditty and it all came true, archaic terminology and all. Amanda, with her fit abdomen, big tits, milky thighs and long, bare neck was my favorite. Colleen with her long, straight brown hair, thrashing about was entertaining enough and there was something about her dimpled grin and freckles that intrigued me. Sela's expertise and ruthlessness was welcome, but Amanda was prime. The session concluded with Sela jacking her new partner, me, off and bathing Colleen and Amanda's faces in spurting semen. Then the sisters descended on each other and lapped up my creamy seed. Punjabi recorded the sex on tape. Then I told him to cut.

Throughout the sex, I had a nagging doubt. "I had thought I had made everyone loyal. What happens when wicked perverts fall in love? They have wicked, perverted love." I practically smacked my head at my stupidity. I made them love me just enough to want to fuck with my life. Yes, it was the best sex any of them had enjoyed. But was that enough? I told them I needed some time alone.

My vellum was running out. I had only more than three clean sheets, six and a half pages left. In my mind, I had dedicated a whole page to getting me out of this jam. A quarter page remained in the allowance. I used the memory of the blackmail attempt to fuel my fury and to allow me to forget what I was doing to them was wrong.

Amanda had found her life's calling as one of George Carfax's wenches. She would serve him above all others. No one else, certainly not her mother, would ever command the same level of loyalty or love.

For Colleen Carfax, the sex was both terrific and disappointing. Amanda was the clear favorite. George loved her long dirty-blonde hair and her hard body. But exercise had burned the fat from her chest and he obviously loved Amanda's globes and softer features. Then a miracle happened when he made love to her. Either her hormones kicked in or the songs were true; love made every person beautiful. As she napped after sex, her breasts increased in size, from fried eggs to cantaloupes. Her long hair turned a shade blonder and developed a permanent curl. It was so beautiful, shiny and full she wanted to grow it to her feet. She had George Carfax to thank. As she thought about him, her fierce lust and loyalty rose to the fore. She would be his faithful servant forever. Her greatest aspiration in life was to earn his approval in everything.

I had spent more page on Colleen than I anticipated. I should have examined that further. But I was more concerned that I had just a little space left for Sela. I was brutal.

After the sex, Sela Shamus is George Carfax's creature, his willing cat's-paw. She wishes he would ask her to help him conquer the town. She would lead all the girls to him, just like she wanted to entice the girls in his classes to jump his cock.

I had a tiny bit of space left now. I used my ability and checked each's fantasy. Amanda was dressed as a wench and serving me breakfast in bed. Colleen had me in a sunny meadow, beneath a spreading oak. Flowers laced in her hair, her hair trapped the sunlight. Our horses in the distance, picnic Basket next to us, she rode me gently. My dick reacted to that but I moved on to Sela. She was kissing my feet and presenting me with the town's girls, each had a ribbon tied around her neck and held a basket of money. I was patting her on the head, telling her she did a great job.

I figured that was enough, almost. There was still a bit near the margin I could use, if I wrote small.

None of the women were ever jealous or controlling to George. He was free and so were they. That's what made their slavery so thrilling, they wanted it. Free will was overrated. They were quite happy serving him in any way whether it involved sex or not.

I slid the book under the secretary and hid it with the chair. I walked in the bedroom. Sela hung up the phone. Amanda stretched herself awake on the bed. But it was Colleen who caught my eye, with her long curly hair, nice melons, she threw herself at my feet. The image of her brownish-blond curly hair obscuring my feet and her flared rump made me rock hard. I wasn't sure why.

I made love to Colleen, to her and her alone. I kept all the others away. To occupy their time I told Molly to introduce everyone to the Punjabi's and our new deal. As they talked I kissed Colleen all over her body. I had Colleen swearing to be my wench forever and meaning every word with every cell in her body. But little things didn't seem "right." Her breast fell directly forward, not off to the side a bit, the way I liked. Her ass wasn't as large or her thighs as full as I liked. I enjoyed her freckles, hair and her broad mouth showed promise. But soon I left. I was tired and for some reason, disappointed.

The Shamus' wearily went back to work. I send Punjabi to off to edit the tapes. Molly took continental breakfast in our room. Molly liked pouring me coffee. Mrs. Shamus was right. Her scones were delicious. Last night, after swearing to change the hotel's name to the Carfax Inn, she told me her secret: sour cream or buttermilk depending on the fruit. (sour cream for blue, buttermilk for red berries).

Molly and I made love once more, in the bath this time. Then I apologized and departed. I had been doing a lot of thinking in the car of late. This morning was no exception.

I mulled over what I was doing to the town. I controlled the school, the largest church, an up-and-coming (I hoped) inn, a day spa and had been instrumental in sending the town on a healthier track. I knew that with the book's help, I could control more. The Carfaxes were back as force to be reckoned with!. My dick liked that idea.

I warmed to the idea of all the way back at my cottage. There, I made up for lost sleep. When I awoke, it was 1 PM. I checked my voice mail. Brother would be flying in from London for recovery. Good. There were half a dozen messages from the Starlings, updating on Sunday's wedding, warning me about how upset their father was and promising to make up for lost time once the wedding was done. The Woo sisters left me a message telling me (between giggles) that they were in town for another week and their husbands were off to the Highlands. I called them back and asked them to check into the future Carfax Inn.

There was a knock at my door. I know I had not been lazy, but one cannot help but feel that way when it's a sunny afternoon and active people at the door greet one. The active people were Ned Gwynn and two of my girls, Becky Foss and Cindi Yu.

"Caught these two trespassing, Mr. Carfax. Lost they were. Said they were students of yours." Ned was a intimidating figure, even in his late fifties; his shotgun at rest and a brace of hares in the basket on his hip.

"That they are, Ned. Thanks. I'll ring their parents."

"No trouble ta'tall. It was on my way home." He shot the two girls a black look and marched on.

"Sorry, Mister Carfax. We were just in the neighborhood. We didn't wake you did we?"

"No. I've been a bit lazy today though. Dear me, you are perspiring. Put down your rucksacks and come inside. You are lucky Ned found you."

Cindi shot a look at Becky. "We would have stayed to the road, but it was gated and posted ands we didn't want to get you...anyone angry at us."

"It's all right. But I enjoy my privacy. If any one found out you were here, I could get in trouble."

"No one else knows. They think we're out for a drive to Cardiff."

"Really? All right then. Just you two and no one else, all right?"

Cindy brightened up. "All right. Ow!"

"What's the matter?"

"Blister. We left the car miles back."

"I see. There are some Epsom salts in that cupboard. You two soak your feet and I'll dress. " The book was in my bedroom, just where I left it. These girls were so obvious and clumsy it was positively endearing. The sexy clothes they wore were grossly unsuited for a romp in the woods. I left the book closed and felt like a big man. Vanity.

As I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, came to the conclusion that neither of the girls could help me much. Becky's sister was a good barkeep who needed to get out from under her father's heel. I knew Carfax Inn needed a bartender. I made plans to instruct Sela to sell the bar to her. Cindi's father ran a dry cleaners. I did not see how he could help my plans and except for the nicely plump Cantonese girl, her family was rather plain, if industrious. I did not see the reason to use any vellum.

I re-entered my kitchen.

"This cottage is cute, Mr. Carfax. Lots of cupboards, low beams, a fireplace in every room. How old is it?"

"1800's sometime."

"Ohhh." Cindy hissed as she slid off her boots. She had four red, shilling sized blisters on her feet. She was definitely not the outdoor type.

I picked up my cell phone and went for the phone book.

"Who are you calling?" Becky mixed the salts in an old bucket.

"Your sister."

"Oh please no! She'll kill me."

"Well I am going soon and Cindi is in no condition to walk. What do you suggest?"

She pulled on her deep brown hair as she thought. "I guess I better call. But let me call her, okay?"

"Fine." I tossed her the phone. While Becky whispered, I fixed a proper pan of Epson salts for Cindi's feet.

"That feels, great. Thank you Mister Carfax."

"Epson salts are a miracle for hikers. Let me introduce to moleskin." I felt like a real teacher for a minute.

Cindi checked to make sure Betsy was distracted then whispered. "I bet you know why we've come."

"Yes. Things have grown rather peculiar in class."

"We don't both have to go." She gave me a look that was supposed to be seductive. "I brought some things you might like." She wasn't dressed for the woods. Her tight, hip hugger jeans were meant to show of her big round ass and her bright pink angora sweater was supposed to show off her dramatic chest. Instead, the just made her rough, sweaty, black hair cake her head. Becky was dressed for seduction too. She wore tight clam diggers and a whiter, corset-like shirt under her jeans jacket. Her navel was pierced with a silver stud.

"Cindi I am flattered, but let's be real. Save yourself for the lucky guy you will marry."

"That can be you, can't it?"

"Life isn't like a Bronte' novel. We just don't have a lot in common. You want to hit discos. I like hiking." I pointed to her blisters. "Think you could do this every weekend?"

Her, naturally puckered, cherry-sized lips made the cutest attempt at a frown.

Becky hung up my phone and seemed relieved. "Jessie's stuck there until two."

"Fine. We have an hour. Who wants tea?" We three sat and had a lovely chat. Things when awry when I mentioned going to church on Sunday for Prudence's wedding.

"Daddy says religion is for fools." I guess Becky was trying to impress me. Many young people mistake cynicism for adult speech. Adults mistake it for wisdom.

"What do you say, Becky?"

"I don't really need it. It's good for comforting and all but I'm fine."

"And you, Cindi?"

"I have problems believing in a supreme being that would allow all the suffering in the world. We're all atheists in my family"

"So you would trade comfort for free will?"

"Free will is an illusion. We always have to do what we have to."

"Becky?"

"Sure. If someone gave me everything I wanted, I'd worship him. Look out Monte Carlo! That's a god I could believe in." she laughed and Cindi joined her.

"If he'd make me a millionaire, I'd go to church."

I was shocked. "Becky?"

"Not me." I waited for the punch line. "He'd have to make me a princess!" Each laughed in a very immature manner.

"What about good and evil?"

"I'm not into judgment. One person's good is another's evil." Cindi's seemed like she had spoken those words before.

"Even being generous means you've taken away from someone. One takes what they can. It's the way the world works." I could hear her father.

"So you are saying that if someone gave you enough money or power you would worship him?"

"Or her!" They nodded yes and giggled. I sat there, stunned. These girls were corrupt. I did not wonder why they, above all others, sought me out. It was all about them getting what they wanted. Condemned by their own mouths. Maybe I should give them what they wanted.

"Would you excuse me?" I walked into my room and checked the book. It cheered me on, like it shared my outrage.

Have fun.

I would. I knew I only had five and a bit pages left. But I had grown curious as to the extent of the book's world shaping power. These girls have just given me to permission to use them as playthings "As long as you're happy, eh?"

George Carfax is Becky Foss' and Cindi Yu's god. His love makes them happy." I picked up the book and walked into the kitchen to view my work. The two immediately fell to the floor and touched their foreheads to the ground.

"Now what am I going to do with you two?"

"Anything you want."

"Of course." I stopped short of doing anything too dramatic, like turning them into frogs. I used the page like a sketch pad of words, touching up their faces, teeth, eyelashes, metabolism, everything. I was never able to write and see the transformation at the same time. I always looked up from my scrivening a second too late. In the end, they were bombshells that went to church services every weekend. Saturday would be my day.

Cindi was taller, more leggy with ghostly pale immaculate skin but her sexy areas still passes the same lusty heft they always had. Her straight, hair became so black as to shine blue and became extra silky and fine. She would prefer to wear it up, unless she was having sex, when she loved to whip it around. Her eyes were so brown as to be black and then hid behind lashes of supernatural thickness and length. Her pussy hair was blue-black and fluffy. She and her descendants would always be able to tell when they were most fertile. Her tits were fine the way they were, but I molded her flabby, cellulite-ridden ass to where it formed a healthy haunch with two huge dimples on the side. She would need a healthy haunch for she loved getting it pinched and fucked.

Becky... no! Rebecca's hair I turned a deep auburn, naturally full and fluffy. Her mane hung down to the top of her ass. She loved wearing up or curled in public. Her heavy tits lifted out from her chest, torpedo like. Her nipples were pins of detonation for she would love having them sucked, especially when a man was between her legs. Her legs were as perfect as I could make them. Then I "inflated" her lips to juicy. She would love to suck and kiss as well as fuck. She and her descendants would enjoy predictable fertility.

I made them both healthy, strong, disease free, with definition, but not so muscular they lost all their feminine charms. They were now priestesses in the C of G, the Church of George. They would tirelessly work for the greater love of George in Caym-By-the-Sea. Service to the church would make them very happy. Eventually, Saturdays they would host services in my name then go off to church, proper as could be. Perhaps I should have described the religion a little better. But Jessie was only half an hour away and I had already concluded I wanted her in the little fiefdom I was building.

I ordered the two to use my mini and unchain the gate at the Wodehouse road turnoff in anticipation of Jessie's arrival. I told them they did not need clothes, just shoes. They thanked me and crawled away from my august presence. Then I got to concentrating on Jessie Foss. This time, her fantasy led towards big chested blonde girls. I could sense that she wasn't a straightforward lesbian just not thrilled about men. Working at the ugly pub, with that slave driver of a father, I could see how she got that way. That explained a great deal about how she was able to work at her father's place and how Becky told me she thought I was handsome but she never more than polite. I made a mental note to hook her up with Chastity, then altered things a bit.

As she drove onto Wodehouse Lane Jessie recalled that the road was once called, "Wosehouse Lane. Local legend had it that a Wood Wose lived at the end of the road. Wose's were like Green Men. They would seduce young women. But they would also grant wishes.

When she arrived at the house, no one appeared to be at home. Then she heard the sound of laughter. She followed it. The old creek had been dammed up and a pool had been formed. In the clear, Oak shaded pool, two young women frolicked naked, like two nymphs. She watched for a while, drooling over their lithe and fulsome bodies. The fact that one was Chinese first awakened her to the possibility, the voices gave it away. The two Nymphs were Cindi and her sister, Becky!

But the hair, faces (and their bodies!) were all wrong. She had to get a closer look. "Hello."

The nymphs did not stop frolicking. "Hi Jessie, come on in, the water's great."

It was Betsy. She saw the resemblance now. "It is not. It's freezing."

"I know, see?" she pointed to her erect nipples, then cupped Cindi's. Jessie always thought Cindi's chest was prime, so she blushed. "But it feels invigorating."

"Where's, Carfax?"

"Not here. We have the place to ourselves."

"Come on in. I'd simply love to see you naked." The Chinese girl licked her lips. There was no mistaking Cindi's intent. Becky giggled.

Jessie's head said no. Her own body was far from perfect. Her tits sagged. All the years of standing had given her varicose veins. The pub food made her flabby and ridden with cellulite. The smoke made her skin blotchy. Her night hours rendered her skin fish-belly pale. Her teeth were rotten from lack of care and her lungs were a two-pack-a-day ashtray. Her voice, which was once the pride of the school choir, was now a hoarse rasp. She didn't even want to think about her liver.

But her pussy said yes. Her eyes drank in Cindi's form. She preferred blondes but the Asian was stunning. It had been a long time since a woman that beautiful had called her name. But she came to her senses.

"Becky! What happened to you and Cindi?"

Becky fell backwards as floated away, legs opening and closing. "Come swimming and we'll tell you. Promise."

There was a bit more argument but Jessie eventually agreed. The girls were right, the water did feel invigorating. But she only stripped to her undergarments Cindi and Becky tried to have fun with her but she was adamant. She stopped walking into the pool when the water was up to her waist. "So how did you two become...?"

"So beautiful?"

Cindi swam right up to her, so close she could feel her breath. It smelled like orchids. Their breasts touched. Her nipples reacted to the tap of cold water. "Yes, we are beautiful, aren't we?"

"I...I..how did it happen?"

"He did it." Becky had swum up behind her unnoticed. Her breath smelled of cinnamon, She was pointing towards the riverbank. Carfax stood there, in his swim trunks.

Jessie covered her chest. Then noticed that the other girls didn't. They seemed to want to show him their breasts, "Carfax! What did you do to them?"

"Nothing they didn't want."

"It's true, Jessie. All he did was make us happy."

"And what did you have to give in return?"

"It's a fair bargain, Jessica. George is some kind of wizard. He has given us everything we wished for. All he asks for is loyalty." Jessie was going to call them insane, but for the hard, cold proof staring her in the face. She wondered if all those stories about the Wood Wose weren't bullshit after all.

Cindi smoothed her shoulders. Her hand felt clean and chill. "He can do the same for you, Jessie."

"Yes, Jessica." Her little sister hugged her so tight her bush tickled her ass though her panties. She didn't want to like it so much. "He likes you and wants to give you want you ask for."

She tried using anger and outrage to rescue her from the feeling the cold, clean touches were bringing. "OH! And what is that?!"

"Happiness." Cindi kissed her shoulder.

"Happiness." Becky whispered in her ear. "Money, power. Cindi's going to be a millionaire. I'm going to be a princess."

"You're both insane. He's just a shit school teacher that got some kind of hormone into you." Jessie tried to escape but then found herself held tight. She screamed and cursed her sister. In the course of the struggle, all three fell in the water but Jessie did not escape. They viscously dunked her, tearing at her garments, leaving her naked and gasping for air. "We'll let you go, sister but he really needs an answer. Just so you know, it's okay to refuse. He only wants willing people."

"Okay. My answer is...bloody hell.!" Cindi dove on Jessie's tits. The combination of her cherry lips and cold water sent shockwaves through the pleasure centers of her mind. Her blood was already up due to the wet wrestling match.

Meanwhile her sister hissed in her ear. "Did I forget to mention the sex? You can have any woman or any man you want. "As proof..." Becky bend her sister's head towards her own and planted a smoldering kiss on her. Jessie could not resist, her sister too strong and was the best kisser she had every experienced, not to soft, not to hard, not dry or wet. Women always knew what she wanted better.

Her pussy was on fire. "It's a trick!" she managed to say between breaths.

"Not true Jessie. Becky wants her big sister to fuck her so bad."

Cindi too, "Fuck me Miss Jessie. Take me, lick me, suck me. Take us both! We love you. AH! I feel so free!"

The mature woman regained her composure and looked straight at Carfax. "Is this true? You can do all this?"

"You have my word."

"Deal." As quickly as that, her world turned upside down. Now George Carfax was on the top. Ironically, she didn't want to bargain with him. "Make me as you will, my lord."

The two girls dunked Jessie under the water. When she bobbed up she was a new woman, long blonde hair (the kind she always admired) a healthy chest, tits like two large, firm raindrops. She was now as fit as the other to. But her skin, as smooth as a baby's bottom, was as tan as if she spent weeks on the beaches of Brazil. Her brown eyes were now green. Her breaths were fuller, healthier. Her teeth were white and straight. She was everything she ever desired.

Her face lost its crow's feet. Her lips were luscious. Her hindquarters would make a Parisian statue green. All the regrets, guilt and indignations were washed away. Especially the ones regarding family. Her past was dead. She had a new, bright future.

The Deliverer was walking towards her, naked, in his glory. She met him half way and dropped to her knees. "You will still like women." She nodded and took his phallus in her mouth. "I don' t want to change anyone's sexual orientation. It will just be my cock you love sucking and fucking and only because I treated you so well. Stand up."

Jessie knew he was speaking truth. She still couldn't wait to get back to the other two. It wasn't sex with George so much as a form of worship. It was as beyond sex and to have almost nothing to do with it. Besides she treated herself to dick as often as some straight girls enjoyed a little walk on the other side.

"Stand up." He slid into her. The cool spring water flooded in with him, washing her pussy clean for her god. It wasn't just a fucking. He was deep inside her. It was a rapture of the heart and mind.

Her greatest ambition realized, Jessie threw her darkened locks back and drank in the moment. He spoke, no he prophesized. "You will be my Pythoness, my chief priestess. These two are your acolytes. You will be the new owner of the bar at the inn. You will recruit women into our cult, cleverly, without arousing suspicion. Our goal is the complete subjugation of the county to the Carfaxes. You are a smart girl. You have experience reading people I leave the details up to you."

"Of course." Her orgasm immediately followed the taking of her oath. Her Hercules left a little of him behind in her Hippolyta. He left, commanding the three to enjoy their new relationship. If he hadn't commanded them, they would have rushed right out to lead other women to the same happiness.

I was out of room. I hid the mini behind the generator shed and we three awaited Jessie's arrival skinny-dipping in the pond. I heard the van in plenty of time to hide.

The oath taking took much less time than I anticipated. I arrived at Carfax Manor at about four-thirty. The drive flew by. I was already plotting how to make inroads in the unions. Beryl met me at the door with Carmen, and Marjorie. All four had been busy in my absence. Eva had flown out to care for and retrieve Heath. Right now, Heath and Eva were out for a walk on the moors, as part of my brother's recovery regimen. Marjorie was in the process of moving in. Carmen, with Fatima's help, was cleaning. Mareet was cooking. Beryl was redecorating the manor.

Except for grandfather, who was particularly surly, everyone seemed in good spirits. Even Heath was bragging about the weight he had lost since his cardiac arrest. Eva seemed happier too. Now she had a purpose that Heath valued: doting wife. I reconsidered my plan to cuckold him, even as Eva's foot rubbed inside my pant's cuff. Beryl was simply popping with plans for the old place.

I saw Marjorie frown at each of Beryl's big ideas so I knew we needed more funds. Beryl's dreams were bigger than our bank account. I was about to have a good long talk with the book. Then the packaged arrived; more good news. A new dictator had come to power and our diamond, platinum and cobalt minds in Central Africa were producing again. As a thank you for our support, he dispatched each stockholder a share of the first year profits. The dividend check made Marjorie choke. I guess the book liked the idea of a cult.

The news triggered an embarrassing rant from Grandfather. "Friggin' darkies, can't handle independence. They need a strong arm, that lot. Looks like the old man isn't so stupid after all, eh? One of my investments finally paid off!" We sat in silence, ashamed we thought we needed the checque so much.

After dinner we had a lovely time playing bridge, like in the old days. Sour, grandfather simply got drunk, only on reasonably priced scotch this time. As we sat out dummy hands, Marjorie and I had a chance to talk. I explained to her about the Old Inn at the Quay and she agreed it did sound promising. But the hotel business was exceedingly volatile. I explained that I could arrange for Chinese tour groups, cheap maids, cheap laundry service, the lot. She seemed unimpressed.

She told me her scheme of making the estate (or at least the taxable part of it) into a country club. It did sound good. Tenant farming had gone the way of the dinosaur. A golf club would actually appreciate the old moors. Sheep would clip the grass as they had for hundreds of years. Instead of farmers, our family would look after golfers. And our home would be preserved. That's all I ever wanted.

Then Carmen summoned me to the door. Amy was there. Her face was black and blue. Her mouth was too swollen to speak. She had a trunk in either hand. Beryl appeared out of nowhere and guided her to the kitchen for ice and first aid. She knew what to do. So did I. I used the faculty directory and called Amy's home.

"Yeah?"

"It's me. I'm going to beat your fucking face in."

"You know where I am, school teacher."

I sure as hell did. I took the rover. It handled the unimproved roads at high speeds better. Freezing rain pelted my windscreen. The thunder and lightening suited my mood. In forty minutes I was knocking on the asshole's door. He came out to greet me with a cricket bat. A cricket bat! It's good to know that is these fast times that there are some people willing to observe tradition.

I let him get one swing in. I dodged back, then bobbed in under the bat's arc. A simple jab to his nose and he was blinded. I twisted the bat out of his hands and slammed my knee into his gut, hard. Then I worked his kidney over. He would piss blood for a week or I'd know the reason why. I didn't resort to applying the boot. Ask the neighbors, they saw it all. I didn't want to kill him.

He would have laid there all night in the cold and rain. Or someone would have called the police. I didn't want either. I took him inside and put his soaked form down on the sofa. The side table was littered with empty bottles of lager. The place reeked.

I stood over him and admired my work. "Beat on a woman half you weight, eh?"

"W...w....why?"

"Why what, you shit?"

"Why did you taker her?"

"Take her? Aren't your wanker videos enough?"

"That doesn't mean I don't love her! It just means I'm human. Did she ever tell you she watched them too? Huh, did she? Want me tell you her favorite? Gang bangs. That's right, right up the ass too!" He laughed up blood. I got him a tissue. "All I ever did was have a thing for tying girls up. But she never let me do that." Then he blubbered like a little girl. "Never got sex when I wanted...."

"Guess you're going to keep her now."

"Should she stay with you?"

"No reason to now, I suppose."

"I'll be going."

I was almost out the door when he called me from the doorway. "It's worked out well for her, hasn't it?" I turned. He was leaning against the lentil. "Give her a kiss for me will you, George? Hee. Hee. Hee."

I trembled with adrenaline on the return drive to the Manor. Carmen was waiting up. Everyone was asleep. Beryl asked me to leave Amy sleep. It was just as well. I retired. I was on the way to my old room when I realized that I had the guest suite now.

Carmen was there, in a long, pink night shrift to fix me my nightcap, rub my shoulders and console me. Then Eva arrived in her white nightgown and shimmering silk robe. Heath's pills made him sleep. We shared a drink. She drank only tea. I kept the bottle of Vodka out on the snowy window ledge to make sure it was extra cold. She was a fascinating woman with many interesting stories of her jet set days. We played backgammon with an old set that was made from ivory and coral. Marjorie joined us. She was dressed in light green slip and a matching deep green silk robe. Carmen fixed her a rum and lime, using a dark Jamaican rum, her favorite.

We chatted and drank. Then the three took me to bed. First I fucked Marjorie, with Carmen's help, until she agreed to back the Inn. Eva chose to simply watch. She nuzzled me and asked me to send the others away. Marjorie was a good sport and always left soon after anyway.

"George, what we had was beautiful." I didn't like the "was." "But Heath needs me now. And I..."

I was a good sport. Truth be told, now that my bother didn't live and breathe finance he was a good company. I didn't hate him so much. "Say no more. I wasn't too comfortable either. But it was fun, wasn't it?" We shared a good laugh and a good-bye kiss.

Carmen tucked me and excused herself, she had lots to do in the morning. I slept fitfully. I couldn't get Harold Fife out of my mind. What he said was true. A little porn is hardly a tinker's pimple in this world of ours. Amy just might have played us both for fools. But what really burned was the fact that the book and I...no just I had ruined a perfectly fine marriage. How many more homes had I broken? There were the faculty women, the Super, his nieces, the Punjabi's the Shamuses? True many of them were broken, but did I make things better? And then there were the general things I wrote about the town? What were my three witches doing as I lay there? How many loyal wives were they leading astray?

I was a bastard. I knew burning the book was no longer a safe option. Things just might remain as they were. The book stayed locked in the wardrobe I had five pages to make everything right. I had to be very careful. I had to think this through, for once.

Sunday morning, I awoke and bathed alone, then breakfasted. Beryl still seemed cheerier than usual as she took Amy her breakfast. The old man was as grim as death. Heath had gotten some good news on the financial front that I didn't understand. I guessed I had made the book happy. I really wanted more sleep. I wanted to get writing. But manners were manners and the huge wedding would give me a change to assess the damage,

We dressed up in our finery and drove the rusty old Bentley to Prudence's wedding. When I was around the reverend, the temperature noticeably dropped, which ticked me off no end. He had fucked his daughter and was an adulterer besides. Who was he to judge me? I could have had him making love to a herring. He should have been thanking me.

Caw, the big man was there too. He talked to grandfather and I saw him pass him a legal sized envelope. Grandfather flushed. Caw left him to get to his pew.

"What is it, grandfather?"

"A writ of lien. The bloody bastard is serving us the papers himself."

I looked at the fat man in his tux. He was smiling like an idiot. The wedding was beginning. No doubt he thought this was the happiest day of his life. He was wrong. "Don't worry Grandfather. It will never happen, I swear. The Caws will dine on ashes."

He looked into my eyes and a calm came over him, like he had made up his mind about something. "You're a good, lad, George. Sorry I never told you that before."

"What an odd thing to say. Come on. Beryl wants us in the pew." I had never seen my grandfather cry before that day.

There Prudence was, taking her wedding vows and discretely rubbing her belly, right above our quickening child, and licking her lips in my direction. Poor, stupid, Stephen Caw, never noticed a thing. I think his old man might have. That helped assuage my anger. Prudence was radiant in her ice-white gown and veil. She had bought the dress months before. The lace and seed pearls rode all the way up her neck, hiding her glorious cleavage. As a cost cutting measure, her train was short, so at least her tight bum got some attention. I fantasized about taking her right then and there while the congregation applauded.

The other Starling women looked sexy too. I especially appreciated Caroline's simple ivory dress. It hugged her form like a sock. The bride's maid's dresses were as proper as Prudence's. Hope's glorious chest was tucked away. Chastity looked as her name, until she winked at Jessica Foss. Faith looked good enough to eat.

My little nymphette knew I liked her appear virginal. The white bride's maid outfit provided her with the perfect venue. She had added a half veil, extra lace and pearls to her gown. Her silky brown hair was done up in curls and embedded with baby's breath. Her light make up contrasted her deep red lips. She, like all the Starling girls, had taken in the waist a bit, to show off their figure. I felt like the big bad wolf watching little white riding hood walk down the path. "Do I really want to give that up?" I wondered.

Beryl seemed to know something was going on but refrained from mentioning anything.

When I kissed Prudence at the reception line she slipped me a small envelope, the kind one finds in bouquets of flowers. "I wish it was you." It read. When we danced she promised me nasty sex tricks with such a sweet smile, no one guessed.

Chastity and Jessica left early to get to know each other better. While Hope kept her father occupied, Caroline arranged for Faith and I to have a moment alone. I had Faith just remove her panties and I took her in all the rest. It was like a fantasy come true. As the virgin rode my pole and called me "her naughty little daddy", I knew this would probably be the last time Faith would be with me. I tried to prolong the experience but the vision of purity she presented to me, and her perfect, smooth, pussy was too much. I came like a fountain. While we cleaned up we talked.

"George. Can I move in next week?"

"Sure. But wait a day, okay? I won't be at the cottage. I'm staying with my family at the manor. I need to break the news to them."

"Oh, I'll stay at the manor. Tell them I'm a new maid. Anything to be with my big daddy." She pouted. 'Fatima saying that's she your maid now."

"She is?"

"Mmmm. I won't ask for any pay either."

"Okay. But wait a day, right?"

"Yay!" she gave me a big hug. "Here, let me clean that off properly for you." She dropped to her knees, flipped up her veil and sucked. She smiled and licked it like a dog on a stew bone. She took my sack in her mouth, then kissed the helmet like her Romeo. Since it was the last time, I allowed myself to enjoy a bridesmaid going down on me.

I left the office first while she re-applied her lipstick. I caught Caroline at her watch post and told her to make sure Faith waited a day before starting her new job.

The reception wasn't all lust. Beryl and I danced often. For pity's sake, once she even turned down a boy to dance with me. (No doubt thinking I was still the same wallflower of my youth.) We had a grand time. She was the belle of the ball. All done up in a light pink silk dress and her sheaf-gold hair in an ornate bun, she was a vision. All the young men paid court to her and the way she chatted away with all the girls made me envious. She truly had all the grace in the family. I used a devil-book and I still did not generate the same level of general affection, not even close.

It was a good thing I went to the wedding. It was held in the new, America chain, hotel reception area. It was little more than a box with a carpet and a chandelier. The Inn at the Quay was much more romantic. The wheels turned. "What a venue for "first night" Carfax Inn could be. I had a bit to drink, and not much sleep of late, so Beryl drove us all home.

While we were away, the house wenches moved in. I was scared stiff when I saw Carmen, Fatima, Mareet and Molly in a row as we opened the door. But Beryl introduced them as "the new help." In a stroke of blind luck, Beryl had advertised for help. Fatima was known and was hired right away. Molly showed up the next day and was hired with excellent references from the owner of the Inn at the Quay. Fatima and Molly became permanent residents in the old maid's quarters. Mareet was our new, full time cook. Her husband served as provsioner and put his shop up for sale.

Beryl had found Fatima's and Mareet's sari's charming. So she instructed them to wear them around the house until she found an appropriate uniform. Fatima's was to always leave her midriff bare. Mareet preferred a tight chef's kit, as opposed to the loose sari when she was in the kitchen. Molly, got to select from the chests of old servants clothes. She found a formal, black and white lace ones that Beryl thought would do for now.

As Beryl explained it all to us, Grandfather seemed proud that his granddaughter was becoming the Lady of the house. Except for insisting that she find the valets, Marjorie was clearly not interested in domestic affairs.

Then Beryl said, quite pointedly to me I thought, "All we need now is a gardener and a stable hand and we'll be all set. Oh. And dear Carmen is now our housekeeper, please address her as such. All the help will answer to her."

That night, in my suite, Molly and Fatima awaited me. (Preparing for bed was not beneath Carmen's station.) They stood at either side of the foot of my bed, hands folded and eyes demurely downcast. I stood and opened my arms. Without a word they undressed me and hung up my clothes. They helped me on with my freshly laundered and pressed pajamas, robe and slippers. Molly drafted my cigar (I had concluded by then that Churchills were too big for me. I would finish the box then move on.) Fatima poured me a drink. The firelight flickered of her sunset colored sari and glittered in her onyx eyes.

She handed me the drink. Molly rubbed my shoulders. It had been a long week. Fatima pushed aside the folds of my robe, opened my fly and took my member in her mouth, suckling it like it was her mother's teat. So there I was drink in one hand, fine cigar in another, sexy redhead rubbing my shoulders and an exotic beauty sucking my dick. Life was good. Who cared how I got that way?

I graced Fatima with a dose of my semen. "See, Fatima? I do love you." I stroked her head. She fell back and mauled her tits while she lolled her tongue, savoring the taste. I felt a kiss at my neck.

"What abut me?"

"Why, my dear." I stood and faced her. "You are my favorite wench." It was odd watching her shiver with thrill at the word.

"Say it again."

"You are my whore, my trollop, my bed warmer,..." as I went on, she pulled off her clothes.

"Take me, my lord, oh take me!"

I handed of the cigar and brandy to Fatima and then picked Molly up, carried her to the bed and threw her down and ravished her. I buried my face I her tits while my dick split her seam. I came with a growl. Then I took Fatima, put her face on Molly's cunt and ordered her to lick while I took the sweet girl in her sweet behind.

After that session we relaxed on the bed, Fatima tasting she and me on my slumbering phallus, Molly produced a blindfold. "You seemed to enjoy it last time."

I laughed. "I did. No surprises this time though."

Molly smiled. "Well let's just say no surprises you won't like."

"All right. I suppose I am safe here. Lock the door though." Fatima went to do just that. I would hear the old brass latch if anyone entered from the hall.

Molly produced a bottle of olive oil. "Carmen says you like this."

"That I do." I slipped on the blindfold and allowed myself to relax fully on the big bed while the two maids rubbed me down. "Now this is service." If I wanted a drink or smoke, all I had to do was ask. One of them (the brandy was potent!) would draw a smoke and blow it in my mouth. Brandy was warmed and shared in an open mouthed kiss. They turned me over and rubbed me down there. Then the kissing and nibbling began. I couldn't tell who was who. They nibbled on my back and my thighs. One of them seemed to enjoy, in particular, my bum. One straddled me to nibble on my neck. Then they began to shave my back!

It must have been a straight razor. Using the oil as lotion the hair came off easily. Any remaining oil was rubbed in to sooth abrasion. It left my skin tingling and invigorated. I heard the splash of a washing bowls as they wiped the razors. Little Fatima giggled from time to time. The shaved my legs as well. I am not that hairy but it felt wonderful.

They turned me over and Molly removed my blindfold. She was wearing the ridiculous white, frilled, maid's cap again. "See? Just your two wenches." They both laughed. Before I could reply, Molly slipped the blindfold on and Fatima slipped me another shot of Brandy. I decided to let go. The shaving continued down to my pubes, pits and legs. I wasn't cut once. Without the pull of my hair, the sheets felt quite different. So did the blowjob.

It must have been Molly. It was fantastic. My new, smooth dick slicked in and out like it was covered in butter. I held her head in my hands. The starchy cap contrasted strangely with the smoothness of the sex act. I spewed like a champagne bottle. She drank it all with a sweet sigh. Then she kissed and nibbled me all over my thighs and legs. Receding like the tide.