[EDS: The following tags may be used to identify this story: MF,
fantasy rp, fantasy ped]

This story is nearly true, with some of the names changed. It has
to do with my long-term girlfriend Kiki, who gets off big-time on
one-on-one fantasy role play. I've probably gone into too much
detail, but hey, the descriptions
were fun to write.

Kiki's Games

by Boy Howdy

I met Kiki when I lived in the mountains, near a village at the
state line. Kiki taught first grade at the local public school,
and my brother's wife, who knew Kiki casually, introduced us.
This was about a year after my divorce from a woman who shall
remain nameless. My brother, who owned (and slowly was restoring)
the house I lived in, offered it to me rent-free, in exchange for
whatever work I'd do around the property, partly to help me find
peace after the divorce and subsequent punitive judgment.

I was working free-lance at the time and was making pretty good
money, thanks to some good contacts with a couple of industrial
giants. Not having to go to an office every day, my time was
fairly flexible, and I jumped right in on the construction work,
replacing the old windows, replanking the huge front porch,
putting down new floors in the kitchen and bathroom, and
installing kitchen and bathroom fixtures. Meanwhile, my brother,
Frank, contracted with a fellow who jacked the house level and
redid the old stone footings with concrete and block. Another man
was at work on rewiring. The place was shaping up.

My next project was a large outbuilding just down the hill from
the house. Frank wasn't sure what it was. The structure was too
large for a stable and wasn't laid out for a barn -- some
believed it might have been a schoolhouse, or even a church,
predating the house, which had been built around 1890. It had no
floor, nor any floor joists, but that was nothing that couldn't
be resolved with a level, a hammer, and a couple trips to the
sawmill along the river. (The sawmill, by the way, still operated
off a steam engine with a through-shaft and pulleys; this
community was <I>primitive.</I> I envisioned the shop of my
dreams -- plenty of space for stationary power tools, wood
storage, a full bench, everything. So I set in on that.

OK, back to Kiki. She didn't impress me much at first. She looked
to be typical schoolteacher, early 30s, a very small girl, no
tits. I guessed she was a little over 5 feet and 110 pounds wet.
But as I talked to her, at a party given by Frank and his wife, I
noticed she was sharp and sexy, in a way that crept up on you.
She was from an even more remote spot in West Virginia --
<I>way</I> up in the mountains. She said she'd lived with some
local hillbilly for six years before moving here to take her
current job, but that she had no one at present.

I got a very strong sense from her that she wanted -- needed --
someone, like <I>now.</I> So did I. So that night, a few hours
after our first introduction, we went back to my house and mated,
and it was pretty damn good. I got a good look at her, of course,
watched how lively and freely she walked around naked, and I
decided I might want to see her again. Underneath her thin shell
of austerity, this mountain girl was pretty damn hot.

The more I looked at her, the prettier she got, it seemed. She
had short dark hair and a nice-shaped face with small, fairy-like
features. Her breasts were small, true, but I've never been a big
tit-man, and she told me she never wore a bra unless she had on
something clear and sheer. She was petite, yes, but somehow, in
proportion to the rest of her, her legs seemed long, and they
were beautifully shaped, with small feet. Her skin, all over, had
a rosy blush to it.

The only thing I really objected to was that she shaved her
pussy. I don't know about you, but I'm not big on the idea of
fucking a hairless, 5-year-old girl; a pussy should look and feel
like a pussy. She obliged immediately by letting it grow,
compromising with a judicious trim now and then.

She was exceedingly clean, showering twice a day (I finally drew
the line at once; the artesian spring that fed the
house could only yield so much) and insisting on making the house
spotless when she stayed over. She even bought curtains and
carefully hung them up, using my 2-foot level to square the rods.

Every morning on work days, she was up precisely at 6, took a
shower, had coffee and a pastry or some oatmeal, then out the
door before 7. Her car, an ordinary late-model Nissan, could have
come right off the showroom floor. She did not smoke, and
discouraged me from doing so, even though I'd cut down to five or
six a day -- she made me go on the porch or sit by the window and
blow out the smoke. She liked taking long hikes up the nearby
peaks.

She had a small apartment in town, which she shared with Carolyn,
another teacher at the school. I could see it coming. She'd leave
a toothbrush over, then a kitchen knife, then some clothes, then
asked me to run some laundry for her while she was at school;
she'd pick it up later. Pretty soon, she was coming over Thursday
after school and staying until the opening alarm Monday morning.
Then she stopped going back to her apartment at all, although she
still paid her share of the rent. She'd pretty much moved herself
in.

And I didn't mind because she turned out to be a hell of a
fuck, very enthusiastic in bed and inexhaustable over the long
haul. Whenever I wanted it, which was often, she was right there
with me, and whenever she wanted it, she'd expect me to drop what
I was doing and give her a ride. Moreover, I really was beginning
to <I>like</I> this little girl.

Bonus: She showed a real aptitude for heavier chores, pitching in
with carpentry work and firewood, which was a surprise in such a
little girl. What she didn't know, she could pick up quickly by
watching, then by trying. It never took her long to learn.

And that went for everything, even in the sack.

She said she'd lived with Carl in West Virginia for six years,
and either she was flattering me, or Carl was a lousy lay,
because she told me after one long session, maybe the second time
she came over, that she'd just had her first fuck-induced orgasm.
She lay there, fucked-out but with a huge smile on her face. I'd
eaten a couple dozen oysters for lunch that day, and Kiki finally
groaned and joked, "Where'd you get those oysters? I'm going to
write that man a thank-you letter."

I'll confess to one thing: I might have had something Carl
didn't. It's not a lethal blunt instrument, but it's above
average, whatever that is. Not all petite women have small
pussies, but Kiki sure did, and our first time I felt like a
battering ram at a keyhole. She said it hurt her to walk the next
day. Maybe that's why she did not climax during our first
encounter.

Kiki had a fighting side, and when she thought she was right, she
<I>knew</I> you were wrong, and would hold her ground. She also
had a peculiarly weak, little-girl side, especially when she was
sick. She had some kind of fairly serious female trouble, with a
lot of bleeding, and she decided her regular ob-gyn in Winchester
wasn't giving her the correct treatment, so she had me drive her
to Charlottesville for examination. The doctors there took her
off her pills and put her on an IUD, and she cried all the way
home about that, thinking the device would make her infertile.
Turns out that stopped the trouble, though.

(Her latest, and one that really has us somewhat aground, is that
she "wants a baby". She's 31, and I suppose the clock is ticking.
Me, I don't want any more kids. So that's that.)

OK, enough about all this other stuff. I began to learn early
that Kiki had a couple of very active sex fantasies, which she
liked to act out -- very realistically. I called them her
"games",  and they became a lively part of our sex life. I was a
little reluctant to play along at first, but I quickly learned
the benefits. Played right, the games gave Kiki thrills you
wouldn't believe.

GAME ONE

I believe most women have a rape fantasy, no matter how deep they
try to suppress it. Some get angry and self-righteous whenever
the subject comes up. Others admit it's crossed their minds.
Kiki, however, indulged it freely, within the bounds of a
trusting relationship. Like I say, the games are a part, but
certainly not the whole, of our sex life, and we've probably done
this one ten times in the three years I've known her.

Given the privacy of the property, Kiki enjoys sunbathing nude on
the back deck, and she occasionally likes to be taken "by
surprise" by "a stranger". She also enjoys being "raped" in
the woods during our mountain hikes. Once, she met me at the
front door naked, treated me like an intruder, and made me chase
her around the house while she struggled and resisted.

She even allows for some rough stuff, as long as we keep it in
bounds.

I'll give you a couple examples. After lunch one summer day, we
decided to take a walk up the wooded ridge to the north and west
of the house. Instead of her usual hiking gear -- lightweight
boots, sweats, belt pack -- she wore white sneakers, a tight
white t-shirt that kept no secrets, and a pair of loose white
short-shorts. As we walked, with me behind her, it became pretty
apparent that she hadn't bothered with panties, either.

As we reached the top of the ridge, she suddenly turned and
challenged me. "Why are you following me, man?" she said angrily.
"Don't think I haven't seen you."

At first I didn't know what to make of her sudden turn, but I
played along. "I like what I see," I said, then added some
menace. "And I take what I like."

With that, she turned and bolted off the path, dodging among the
oaks and birches. She pretended to trip and fall, looked back at
me in fear, then hopped up and ran some more. Kiki was pretty
quick -- she'd run track in high school. Somehow, though, I
headed her off and caught her, shaking her roughly. I
slapped her face, lightly, I thought, then shoved her so she fell
to the ground asprawl. Quickly, lightly, she got to her feet
again and tried to kick at me, but I caught her ankle and dropped
her to her back.

This time, I was on her, pinning her to the ground, my elbows
pressing on her shoulders. She seemed tiny and fragile, and I
could feel her chest heaving. "All right bitch, you're going to
<I>get</I> it, right now. Suddenly, she let out with a scream you
could have heard across the hollow. "<I>Someone help me. I'm
being raped."</I>

It was all I could do to keep from laughing, but I kept my evil
composure, clamping one hand over her mouth and clenching her
neck with the other. She twisted and struggled, then went limp.

I'm not an experienced rapist. Some restraint was necessary, but
at the
same time I needed to get her pants off and to get mine at least
down. I pressed harder on her mouth, and though she continued to
make a show of crying out, all that emerged was a sequence of
muffled squeals. I reached down with my other
hand, and unbuttoned her shorts, then began pushing them down
over her slim, twisting hips. She tried to knee me in the belly,
but that played into my hands, as I was able to work her ankle
and foot out of one leg of her shorts. She was <I>mine.</I>

Still pressing down on her mouth, I unbuttoned <I>my</I> pants
and
slid them down to my knees. That's when I discovered that amid
all the struggle, my cock has grown to full, steaming erection.
Although she wriggled about, presenting only a moving target, I
found the mark quickly and shoved my cock into her brutally. And
against all the rules of what you might expect in a real rape,
her pussy was swollen, juicy, and completely ready for me. My
thick tool slid easily all the way in, bumping against her
womb.

And I really let her have it, the way I imagined a savage would.
The act, out here on the ridgeline,
on a not-so-gentle carpet of leaves, sticks rocks and roots,
felt primal, and we coupled wildly. She threw her
pussy at me, and my violent strokes created a steady slap-slap of
our wet, overheated parts. She tried one last "Get off me you son
of a bitch. Oh god oh god somebody . . . help . . . me . . . he's
. . . " Her cries trailed off into incoherence as she tumbled
into an orgasm, and she screamed aloud at
each of my subsequent strokes.

Well, I thought, she'd had hers, but I was a long way from mine.
Again roughly, I yanked her to her feet and shoved her in the
direction of a downed birch log. I forced her down over the log,
her bubble butt in the air, then spit on my cock and on her ass
hole.

(We hadn't done the back side but a few times in the four
months I'd known her, and those acts were done in controlled
situations, with everything set up just right. Today, of course,
I hadn't brought so much as a condom, and certainly no jelly. But
sometiing told me an ass fuck would be checkmate in the game.)

I spat on my fingers and worked one of them into her ass hole,
then two. I'd never figured how my invading her smalll ass could
bring her pleasure. She cried out, "No, no, not my butt. Please
no, you'll tear me apart. And yep, I inserted the head of my
cock in her and began to tear her apart. It took a little more
work than it had in sinking into her pussy, but I finally felt
the whole thing break through and go balls-deep into her guts.

I quickly worked up a frenzy, ripping into her
unholy tight ass. I locked my hands on her hip bones,
pulling her back hard to receive each forceful stroke, and
believe it of not, Miss Ass-Over-Stump went off with another
noisy climax. I clawed down her back, leaving visible marks, and
I twisted and yanked at her hair.

Enough. I squeezed every muscle in my lower torso, trying to
force my climax to the finish line, and in a couple minutes of
this I felt it building, building, building, and BLAM there it
was,
flooding her sweet ass with jets of jism. After a few
afterstrokes, I pulled out slowly, weakened from the effort and
the endorphins. There we lay, my belly against her back. I
rubbed and kissed her shoulders and idly twisted her hair.

"Jesus, Paul," she said as she caught her breath. "Jesus." I had
to admit that I also was shocked at the intensity of the
experiencce. Here at the peak, from where you could see
three states, a cool breeze bounced from ridge top to ridge top
and was tangible even in the warm sun. I picked her up, put her
over my shoulder, and carried her partway down the hill like a
caveman would.

All right, one more. I was working down in the "shop" one
morning, while Kiki
attempted to solve coping cuts on crown molding. About noon, I
noticed that i wasnt hearing the mitre saw and hammer, so I
figured she'd deided to knock off for lunch. I was hungry too, so
I walked up the hill to the house. And I noticed the front door
was locked. I knocked loudly, and Kiki came to the door and
opened it just enough to see me (but wide enough for <I>me</I> to
see that she was stark raving nude). Here we go, I thought.

She tried to shut the door, but I blocked it with my foot, and
she slammed the door on my foot and it hurt, so I forced the door
with my shoulder and stepped in, the door swinging wide. It was
chilly out, late November, but very warm in the house; Kiki had
both stoves up full. She backed up a few paces as I slammed the
door behind me. I pulled off my hoodie and sweatshirt, then my
undershirt; Kiki likes my build -- or says she does. I unzipped
and pulled my half-hard cock out, shaking it at her like a
menacing snake.

"Oh, don't go any further than that," Kiki said, very coolly.
"I'll call my husband upstairs and he'll blow that thing right
off you with his magnum."

It's always amazing how these games take on a life of their own,
and how inventive you can be as you go. "Baby, I said, very calm.
"I've been watching you, and this house, off and on for a week. I
can tell you I know your husband isn't here. You're all alone,
bitch. Now it's my turn."

As I spoke, I circled, equidistant between front and rear doors.
If she started for the front door, I could block her with a quick
move to the left. If she darted for the back door, I ould head
her off with a move to the right. Finding herself in no position
for counterattack, she ran back to the room she used as her
study and tried to lock the door. I pressed against the door so
she could not lock it, forced it open, and approached her.

Suddenly, she gave me a kick in the nuts -- <I>in the nuts</I>
-- that glanced off but still briefly stopped me. She zipped out
the door, and in a seeming panic turned to run up the center
staircase. Her steps were light; mine were heavy and threatening.
I caught her by the ankle, and she fell hard to the risers, then
kicked again and
broke free. This time she ran into the guest bedroom, the one
across from ours. I was right on her, allowing her no time to try
to lock the door.

She dashed from corner to corner in the room like a frightened
cat, until I caught her and pinned her
into the corner, muttering approapriate evil threats. Holding her
hard against the walls, her chest against mine, I
lowered my pants and flannels, my cock pointing out straight and
hard. One look from her and "oh my god.. You're not putting
that thing in <I>me."</I>

I pulled her feet off the floor, forearms supporting her thighs
as I pressed her body to the wall, And amost immediately, I
jammed "that thing" into her and began nailing her
to the corner. Her body stiffened, and her face showed surprise
as I banged her pussy hard against the painted walls.

"No no no no no NOOOOOOO," Kiki wailed, but I continued to hurt
her with my cock, pounding her to the limit as she spread her
legs wider to take me.
Not two minutes into the act, Kiki came, loudly and dreamily,
involuntarily beating the back of her head into the hard plaster.
I moved us away from the wall, and she wrapped her legs around my
waist, her cunt clenching. I stepped
away from the wall, her body wrapped around me, and we
fucked freestanding for a minute or two.

This was for real now, two lovers trying to make the most of a
gift
from god. I fell backward to the bed, and she, still impaled,
fell on me, and we kissed hard and I molested her precious little
titties. Kiki put her feet on on the floor and pogo'd up and down
on me . She put her hand to her clit and pressed it as I fucked
her, and she came again.

"God damn, <I>rape</I> me, Paul," she cried. "Finish me off. Just
<I>fuck</I> me."

I rolled Kiki to her back, still connected (we'd been connected
non-stop for what seemed like 20 minutes), and looking down at
her sweet face and heaving chest, glistening with sweat,
her skin returning to pure china after the sun-kissed peach color
of summer's all-over tan, we went at it in a full blaze, each of
us switching angles and the partner adjusting to meet them. My
body on top of Kiki's, pressing the breath out of her, my cock
filling and stretching her cunt and driving into her like a
machine -- yes, we were way far gone.

I decided to work her to the mythical shared climax. "God damn
tell me," I growled. "Tell me you got to have it. Talk to me,
bitch." The words alone seem to wind her up again, and, her
voice shaking, she cried, "Paul, oooooohhh Paul, oh Paul oh Paul
oh ohh ohhhhhhhh, I'm . . . "

Her cunt gripped and rippled around my dick, and she gave out
moans of prolonged surrenderas she came. That was all the cue I
needed. Ten
more strokes and my whole body centered in my nuts and cock, and
I blasted half a cup of jism into all the crevices of her cunt
and
womb. No way an IUD was going to stop that one.

We lay just like that, in that zone of five minutes of true love
that follows a great fuck. The way I felt that moment, I could
have gone another two or three times, no problem. Kiki gave me a
look from our shared extra-special consciousness that indicated
she could too. We didn't. We got up, ate lunch, and went back to
work.

GAME TWO

Kiki's other primary fantasy was, get this, to be 14 and a
virgin, desiring her first sex experience. She wanted me to play
an older man, although she never defined age and relationship. It
wasn't a family member -- a neighbor, maybe, There was always
some prearrangement, that she and her "teacher" had agreed
beforehand to do this. Whatever, her signal to me was to come to
bed in a pair of flannel pajamas. Like me, she
usually slept naked in the summer, and on colder nights in knit
tights, a sweatshirt and thick socks. The flannel pajamas, I
suppose, made her feel more like a little girl.

This one took a little finesse in creating a "real" feeling, at
least for her.  I had to go very slow and patiently, and gently
put up with the kinds of questions a little girl might ask her
first lover. I also had to explain everything I was doing to her
and to tell her what to do to me.

"I'm kind of nervous, Mr. Wright," she said, concocting a name.
"Maybe I shouldn't do this."

I had to call her something other than Kim or Kiki, so I called
her
Karen. "Do what you think is right, darling," I told her. "As I
told you, I'm not putting any pressure on you. My god Karen, I
feel more guilty than you do. I mean, you're young enough to be
my daughter, and, uh . . . "

"And what?" she inquired.

"And you haven't done this before," I
said. "Don't you think you'd be more comfortable waiting a couple
years, then trying this with a boy your age, someone you care
about?"

"I don't want to be a virgin, Mr. Wright," she declared. The boys
don't like going with virgins -- it scares them. I had one boy
who put his thing in me, and when he couldn't get it in he went
limp and stopped. Then he wouldn't even talk to me after that.

"Besides, I'm almost not a virgin," she said. "I've had orgasms
before, with my hand, a sofa cushion, even the handle of my
hairbrush. Boys have kissed me and rubbed me and almost gave me
orgasms. I gave a hand job to a boy and made him shoot.

"I know it will feel good if you -- I mean, you've done it lots
of times. You'll know what to do."

Kiki was good. By this time, she almost had me believing her act.

Kiki took hold of my hard cock and began
tentatively to stroke it. She bobbed her hand back and forth the
length of it, gripping it and squeezing it. "That's very good,
Karen," I said. "You're doing that just right." She looked at me
wide-eyed in the dim night light, a pleased smile on her lips.

"I want to see it," she said. I lowered the blanket until my cock
was in full view. "Oh god, that's <I>big,"</I> she cried. "That
won't
fit inside me." She watched intently as it throbbed and swelled
under her hand.

"Can I kiss you, Karen?" I said. Without waiting for an answer, I
leaned to her and kissed her mouth, gently at first, then more
insistently, and she responded with a girlish kiss of her own. I
ran my hands through her hair, on both sides of her head,
smoothing her hair out of her face. She beamed like an angel.

"Let me see your body, Karen," I said. "I know you're pretty, but
I've never known just how much." I began to unbutton her flannel
shirt, and she stopped me. "Karen. Please." With a sigh, she
continued with the buttons herself, and I lightly kissed her ears
and neck.

"You smell wonderful," I said. "Oh," she lied, "I put on perfume,
just for this. Right here." She pointed to a spot between her
breasts. I drew my tongue slowly from her throat to the place,
then moved quickly to take a nipple in my mouth, sucking it
lightly and circling it with my tongue. "Mr. Wright, oh don't . .
. " she moaned, then added, "Ohh, that feels so nice."

With the usual foregame of kissing, stroking and feeling, and a
long tight embrace, Kiki was fully responsive (it never took her
long). But she had to resume the game when I tried to slide the
flannel bottoms off her waist and over her hips, and once again I
had to go through a charade of persuasion. Then her pants were
off, and she lay there on her back with her flannel top spread
like wings.

"Are you ready, Karen?" I asked. "This is the moment. I'm going
to touch you now. I'm going to show you what <I>good</I> feels
like. I want you to tell me time is right."

Haha. In real life, she'd have jumped me 20 minutes before, but I
have to admit, the anticipation was taking us both to the boiling
point; I could feel her legs squirming, making
give-it-to-me-now-Paul motions. I put my hands on her "virgin"
pussy. I began to pet it as I would a small, furry animal. Kiki
was about ready to drop the game as my fingers found
her clit andplayed with it. Then I put a finger into her hole and
pushed it in, about to where I guessed her maiden would have
been.

"Oooooohhhhh," the murmured, her body tightening. I kissed her
breasts as I fingered her and said, "My god, Karen, you are so
tight." That, of course, was honestly no shit. "Are you ready,
little girl?" And just like that, she went off in my hand. That
was against the spirit of the game, and she tried to suppress her
orgasm. My cock had begun to ache.

"Oh yes yes <I>please,</I> Mr. Wright," she cried, her voice
trembling.

I rolled onto her and mounted up. With my hand, I guided the end
of my cock into her hole, again, pressing no deeper than her
"virginity" would allow. She stopped me suddenly, and with a hint
of fright said, "Do you have any condoms?"

"No dear, I don't," I said.

"Well then, you have to stop," Kiki/Karen declared. "My dad would
kill me, for real, if I got pregnant. You have to have
protection."

(Oh god.)

"Karen, dear, the only way you can get pregnant is if I shoot
inside you. I'll stop before I cum, and you can finish me with
your hand. I'll be very careful," I said.

"Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully, and I swore to her I was
and that I would.

"It's going to hurt, isn't it," she said. "Please don't let it
hurt me."

I eased my cock into her, to the stopping point, and I rocked
slowly in and out to and from that depth, concentrating on her
clit. I could feel Kiki's body tensing again, and again her pussy
cluched at me, and it was all she could do not to throw her cunt
at me and take me all at once. She came again, again making
almost no sound, and I could tell only by the radiating tension
in her loins and the spasms of her cunt muscles.

"OK, Karen. Now I'm going to push a little harder. I pressed,
steady, continuing pressure, and I gasped as I broke her
imaginary hymen, and she screamed out loud, crying, "Oh my god no
no no. Take it out. Please, ohhhhh, take it out."

I pushed deeper, slowly, deeper, until I filled her cunt
completely, and she let out some little sobs, and I began to fuck
her gently and deeply. I put my arms under her back and held her
tight to me and kissed her as I fucked her more ardently, and
then the money was off the table and we went at it like two adult
lovers.

And god how she came. I'm sure she climaxed four or five times,
maybe more, in the 30 minutes we fucked. That's the power of
fantasy. Then my own climax began to build, in my legs, ass and
back, and my swollen nuts began to draw up, and I howled, "Karen,
<I>now.</I> I'm gonna cum, baby. I'm gonna cummmmmm."

With seconds to spare, I pulled it out of her, and she reached
for it with her hand, but it didn't need any help. I went off
like a big, booming skyrocket, splattering her belly with long,
strong streaks of juice, even reaching as far as her tits. I
couldn't recall ever having cum that hard, or that much. I
collapsed onto Kiki/Karen, feeling the cum smear between
like melted butter. I kissed her hard, and we both lay, spent and
satisfied.

"Did I do it good, Mr. Wright?" she peeped, shy but eager. "Oh
god, it was everything I dreamed it would be."

There were variations on this one. I was supposed to take the
lead and seduce her in one iteration. The constants were the
flannel pajamas, the deflowering of the virgin, and not coming
inside her (or using a condom).

There have been a couple other minor games, or ideas she's
suggested (some of which I'd <I>never</I> do, but I won't get
into them, as I've gone on long enough about all this.

The question to me is why these two games/acts get her off.
Again, we don't do them that often -- each maybe ten or twelve
times in
the three years we've been together. I've asked her about them,
whether she's actually been raped ("No, it's just a fantasy a lot
of women have, me included. It's the ultimate in subjugation"),
or whether she actually gave up her virginity to an older man --
she'd always told me she lost it at 17 with a kid she cared about
at the time. I don't know whether Kiki's games are keys to some
hidden doors in her personality, or what, and I'm certainly not
therapist to take a guess. So I just enjoy the play.

Well, I've read back over all this and realize I've made Kiki out
to be a stark raving psycho-slut. Or maybe
not. Most of the time, we're pretty normal people who enjoy sex,
lots of sex, as part of a loving relationship. Overall, we work,
come home, eat, plan for the future, worry about money, go to
beaches and ballgames -- all the normal things normal people do.

Conclusion? Yeah, she's <I>hot,</I> she's mine, and I intend to
keep her. You want one like her? Go find your own.






