Another Scavenger Hunt Part Two

If you haven't read part one, you need to. Seriously. You will have absolutely no clue what is going on if you don't. Trust me.

06/17/11
Church - Special Person: Preacher

Sunday started off just as you would expect: with me terribly horny and wanting a serious screwing. But since I wake up like that on most days, it’s not like this revelation is news or anything. I resisted the urge to run my fingers through my petals. I was wet, which is no surprise either, and I have to admit that getting a hold of the small string attached to the ben wa balls that had nested inside me all night sent shivers of an animal like lust through me to the core.

But I pulled them out and dropped them on my… um… excess juice towel. (Yes, that is exactly what it sounds like.) Sunday’s toy was rather more intense, intentionally so, and I slipped the two vibroballs into my pre-lubricated well with a familiarity that most women reserve for their special lovers. I wriggled my hips to seat them, and then moved the dial to the lowest setting. The two vibroballs began trembling inside me, changing the sexual urgency inside me from “present on the horizon” to “fast approaching orgasm.”

There were still a lot of things to do that morning. I went downstairs, pausing in the living room. My dad, surprisingly, was asleep on the couch. That was terribly weird. But then again, so was the fact that he had been up when I got home. Usually my father is a ten o’clock bed fiend. For him to stay up, watching the television, was rather unusual. Even odder was the fact that he didn’t go back upstairs to bed. It also meant that I’d have to do my thing in the living room last. I could hardly go grab my Core Driller dildo and have a go at myself while he was lying on the couch sleeping a few feet away! So I tiptoed past him and went out to the barn.

I took care of the critters and an hour later was in the kitchen helping my mom get breakfast ready. She chewed my dad out for sleeping on the couch, but it wasn’t a serious yelling and he took it meekly. But he smiled at me with a gleam in his eye and an easy laugh. Obviously he wasn’t phased by my mother’s “mothering.” I guess we’re all used to it!.

After breakfast I changed into something a little nicer, a respectable summer dress. Yes, I know, every one of you is disappointed. But you don’t go to church dressed like a hooker when you’re accompanied by your family. There are some things you just don’t do. On the flip side, I still looked hot. Well… I THINK I looked hot. I wore two inch heels and my bare legs were long and smooth and nicely shaped and everything.

After mass we stopped at the recreation hall for donuts and hobnobbing, which is what my mom calls it. I call it boring. So while my parents were off doing their weekly chitchat with friends, I strolled off into the semi-populated bowels of the church. Our church isn’t exactly the biggest on the planet and it doesn’t take very long to wander your way through it. However, we’ve been going for about… oh… all my life, and that kind of familiarity breeds… uh… well… um… not contempt (sorta), but a knowledge of where to drag eighteen year old Grant Chase in order to bestow my blessings upon him.

That spot happened to be an Audio Visual closet that was only marginally stuffed with an old television set on a cart and some other strange and barely recognizable electronic things. I had to ask my dad once what those strange boxy cartridge things were (I’ve been in the AV closet quite a few times since I was 15) and he laughed when he said they were 8-tracks. I was like, “8-tracks? They only have eight songs?”

Yeah, I know. I should dye my hair blond, right?

Oh geeze, Kari is so going to kick my ass when she reads that one. Blond jokes were instant punishment back in the old days. I once had my hands tied behind my back, stood in the center of the living room, and watched as Kari used string to tie my nipples to the ceiling fan. It went around, twisting the string tighter and tighter, pulling me upward. She didn’t turn off the switch until both nipples were purple and I was standing on tip toe. I tried hard not to make blond jokes after that.

Grant Chase was your typical high school senior. Don’t worry, he was of age, and more than willing to accompany me to that small closet, pull down the front of his black pants, and let me nibble on his holy scepter. While he wasn’t the priest, I sorta doubted I’d be able to seduce our good shepherd into taking a little extra care of one of his sheep. So the sheep would have to fuck the sheep. It wasn’t much of a problem. Grant wasn’t used to girls like me and my skills at sucking cock, while not legendary, are pretty decent. He popped within five minutes of being in my mouth. I swallowed most of it, but on his last spurt he accidentally jerked out of my mouth and sent a stream of cum that hit my left shoulder and trickled down my dress. Damn. I tried to clean it up with toilet paper, but anyone with half a brain would know it was cum.



It didn’t help either that by this time my vibroballs had me in a state of hyperactive sexuality. I thought about fucking Grant, but I had forgotten my purse, and thus my condoms, and I wasn’t about to rely on the Holy Spirit as a means of making sure everything was kosher. Besides, I’m not quite sure God would have my best interests in mind. He did say “go forth and multiply,” right? Besides, I’ve met God and he seemed pretty sexually sadistic. I’m pretty sure he LIKED the idea of me being desperately horny in his house.

After church we headed home. I expected my mom to say something about the semi-transparent blotch on the upper slope of my left breast, but it was my dad who stepped close, lifting a finger and running it, not over the stain, but along side it. He shook his head without a word and then got in the car. I drove everyone home (Dad can’t drive with his leg like it is) and ran upstairs to change.

I also stuffed everything I needed in my bag. Condoms? Check. Clothes to change in to? Check. High heels? Check. Clover clamps? Check. List of places and people I needed to fuck? Check.

And so with a wave to my family and my dad’s admonishment to “have fun!” (Oh trust me I will, Dad!) I hopped into my truck and drove down our gravel drive. The farm to market road that borders our farm was, as usual, deserted, so it wasn’t much of a problem to strip off my tee shirt, bra, denim shorts, and panties, and pull the tight stretchy short black skirt up over my ass. Master Brandon had kindly granted me the right to wear what I wanted today, as long as it was “appropriately slutty”. So instead of a tee shirt, I wore my chevron shirt, a beautiful top that left my back completely bare and tied around my neck and then once more down by my waist. The collar was low, leaving a lot of cleavage visible, but the sides of my breasts were also exposed, making the gold, brown, and red pattern of the shirt that much more appealing.

Once appropriately dressed, I headed down the road to my first stop. It was time to buy a new car.

Car Dealership - Customer Buying a New Car

Anytime you step onto a car dealership’s property, there is some sort of internal inaudible alarm that alerts every salesman that someone, probably gullible, has arrived. I’ve never bought a new car actually. My Saturn coupe was bought used, but I actually bought it, so I’m at least somewhat familiar with the process. You go in, get fawned over, take a vehicle for a test drive (you have to give them your license and credit card to do that) and then you and the sales clerk go for a nice little drive. Then you come back, visit the finance people while they run your credit and add up the total amount for the car including tax, title, and license, and usually a zillion fees.

I was planning on just seeing things through to the “end of the test drive section”. Granted, the assignment specifically stated that the “special person” was a customer buying a new car, but the likelihood of me finding a person actually BUYING a car was pretty slim, not to mention the fact that getting said person alone… well… I was hedging my bets. Easier just to fuck or suck a sales guy any day of the week.

I got out of my truck and wandered on over to the Chevy Suburbans. I was looking for something very specific in my “new car.” I needed heavily tinted windows, as wide a body as possible, and a comfortable looking back seat. I’ve had sex in a lot of different cars before (including one really weird and gymnastic session in a mini Cooper) and let me tell you, for good sex, you need a pretty generous back seat. Or if you’re a SUV person, good padding is essential. Let’s see… I’ve had sex in a Dodge Durango, a Nissan Pathfinder, a Ford Explorer, the Lucerne, two Cadillac SeVilles, a number of Camaro sports cars, two Corvettes, one Ford Mustang, a whole smattering of pick up truck beds (including mine), the mini-Cooper I mentioned, and once in a modern VW Beetle. I may have forgotten a few. When you test fuck as many cars as I have over the years, it sort of all blends into this mishmash of interior textures and colors. Sorry.

I only had to look at three different Suburbans before the sales guy descended upon me. I’m not going to describe him. Let’s just say he was my type. Granted, I have a rather wide open opinion of my type (male and reasonably clean) but he had a gruff cuteness about him as well that made me want to untie my shirt and let him wax and buff my breasts.

I told a little white lie in order to get him to get the keys to the Suburban and in short order I was climbing in and out of the vehicle. He did seem a little confused as to why I checked out the backseat first, rather than getting behind the wheel, but after I sat down in the driver’s seat and pretended to check all the controls, he was much more comfortable. That’s when I told him I wanted to take it for a test drive. He was very pleased and we walked back to the sales center for them to take a copy of my driver’s license and hold onto a credit card while I took their sales clerk for a test drive.

Oops. Did I say sales clerk? I meant their SUV.

I’m one of those girls who are fairly comfortable driving new and large vehicles. I’ve been driving our tractor at the farm from the time I was ten. Our combine pulls a large assortment of harvesters, bailers, ploughs, and cutters. I think I could probably handle anything from a semi-truck right down to a tank.

A tank! Wow! There’s an idea! Anyone who let’s me drive their tank around can use me for target practice afterward! Especially if they’re working on their PENETRATION ability.

I started the SUV with … uh… Greg. I’ll call him Greg, sitting next to me. I drove carefully, and well under the speed limit as I turned out onto the frontage road and drove cautiously east bound. I had a plan and it was a pretty good one. I went all the way down to the light, crossed the intersection, and then got on the freeway. That made Greg a little more nervous, I could tell. But I accelerated normally and made some lighthearted talk about checking acceleration and smoothness of the transmission.

What? Don’t look at me like that. I’m not stupid. I may not be able to repair an engine, but I change the oil on tractor and both my cars. Usually. I have a BASIC understanding of how it all works.

To ease Greg’s fears, I took the next exit, which was all part of the plan. Another left had us facing in the correct direction, but instead of getting back on the freeway, I turned right instead and began making comments about stop and start and how I wanted to test the vehicle under low speed neighborhood conditions.

Greg was reasonable, but now he was looking at me a little differently. I’m not sure what his deal was. That was why I immediately pulled the Suburban over at the first large enough shoulder.

“Is anything wrong?” Greg asked. I gave him one of my million watt come get in the back seat with me smiles.

I shook my head. “Nothing. But I need to check something in the back seat.”

Greg gave me this confused expression and I hopped out of the driver’s seat, and climbed into the back. Greg twisted in his seat to watch me, which was exactly what I wanted. I slowly slid side ways until I was literally lying across the bench seat.

“What are you doing?” Greg asked. The tone of his voice made it tough to tell whether he was getting turned on or whether he was concerned this sale wasn’t going to go where he wanted it to go.

“I’m testing this seat,” I replied. “I’m not sure about the texture though.” I wriggled a bit which had my skirt slipping upward in no time. I reached up to my chevron shirt and obviously squeezed both breasts. Greg looked at me with astonishment.

“Hey… you can’t…” his voice trailed off. That was possibly in response to the fact that I had scrunched the shirt material and managed to pop my breasts out of the sides of the shirt. Now the material was crumpled and nestled between both breasts as I played with the tips. I suddenly sat upright, legs spread. From the way Greg’s eyes moved from my breasts to my crotch, I knew that my pussy was now clearly in view.

“Do you think this back seat is good for sucking cock?” I asked, still maintaining a professional tone. His mouth was still open. “Would you mind coming back here? I need to test it.”

Have you ever seen a zombie movie? Or a hypnosis session? Or how about Star Wars? “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.” Greg was clearly a weak minded fool because my Jedi mind tricks had him out of the front seat and into the back before he even had time to think about it. He closed the door and I immediately was unbuckling his pants. His cock was hard and I went down on his stick shift, immediately moving him from park to drive. He moaned as his engine revved and I pistoned up and down on his rod. There was plenty of lubrication; my mouth provided plenty and I could taste a bit of pre-cum as well. His fingers found my breasts, squeezing the tips and sending sparks through my plugs, igniting my fuel and making me ready for a nice long road trip.

Okay, maybe that’s enough car puns, right?

I could tell he was getting close. I had intended this whole operation to be just a blowjob, but I was way to desperate. Instead I grabbed my bag, got out a condom, and put it on Greg’s pipe. He didn’t object. In fact, when I pulled out the vibroballs and turned them off, he seemed to enjoy the whole sight. Then I discovered that the back seat of a Suburban is certainly big enough to fuck in. I straddled him like a lap dancer, ground myself down, and ran his thick cock through my folds. His thighs pumped against me and he grabbed me, pulling me down for a hungry kiss even as his rough hands caressed my breasts, tweaking my nipples. I felt him rise up, his cock spearing me as I let myself open and then I was pinned. I put my hands on the roof as he thrust upward and we made love, pulsing in time to the purr of the engine. Minutes later we changed position and I was suddenly on my back against the seat, my legs up in the air, with him kneeling between my legs. My head was pressed against the door but that didn’t matter to me. All that mattered was that the new position was incredible and Greg drove into me with an urgency that had me screaming in delight and begging for it to be harder and faster. I came with a cry and Greg thought it was him. It wasn’t. He wasn’t a better lover than any other I’ve had, but I’d been in a sexually deprived state since the previous night, struggling with almost constant sexual stimulation. I was dry tinder. He was fire, along with a large bucket of gasoline. Is there any surprise I exploded? I don’t think so.



But it made him feel good and a moment later he added his own fireworks to the intensity of my detonation. (Michael! I used the thesaurus for that one! Like it? LOL) Then Greg slumped against me, his mouth nibbling on my breasts as we both slowly calmed down. Greg stayed in me until he was soft, which I absolutely love. I hate guys who pull out seconds after they’ve come. I want the weight, the sense of fullness, of being complete. It’s… romantic.

I helped him pull of the condom and I tossed it out the window before going back down and sucking him clean. His cum was salty and a bit tangy, but not bad and he just moaned, managing a semi-hard response. I stopped then. I was pretty much satisfied at that point. I retrieved my vibroballs from the floor of the back seat and slipped them back into my wet and satisfied pussy, turning the dial back to low. I felt them of course, but the tension was gone. The vibrations just felt… good. Present, but neither intense or stimulating. Of course I knew that would change. But it would be a while before I was dry tinder again.

I fixed my shirt and skirt as Greg managed to get his own casual business dress outfit back in place. We returned to the front seat, me with a smile and Greg with a stunned look. Granted, he did smile at me a lot, but his eyes kept going down to my breasts. For fun, I wiggled my eyebrows and pulled my shirt away from my right breast, baring it. We drove almost all the way back to the dealership with my right nipple exposed and Greg rather intensely focused. I pulled the Suburban back up to the curb and then tucked my breast back into my chevron shirt. Greg blinked, as if he was slowly becoming aware of his surroundings.

“So do you like the car?” he asked with a grin. “Does it meet your needs?”

I laughed. “Not as much as the salesman does. Is he an available option?” I asked.

There was a long pause. “He might be.”

I looked up at Greg. His eyes were intense and he was staring at me. I blushed.

I swallowed. “Do you have a business card? I have a couple of other SUV’s to test drive,” I replied without thinking. Greg’s eyes widened and then his expression darkened. I realized what I had said.

“Oh! No! Not like that! I was test driving YOU at that point. Not the SUV.” I blushed again, more than a little embarrassed by my slip up. Greg seemed to relax and pulled out a business card. A pen clicked and he quickly wrote something on the back. He handed it to me and I saw a phone number.

“That’s my personal cell phone. I’d love to hear from you. Maybe do dinner some time?” he asked. I smiled and tucked the card into my purse.

We said goodbye and I gave him a kiss on the cheek before getting back into my truck. I’m not sure I’m going to call him, but he seemed to be on the level and a really nice guy. I put my truck into gear and rolled on.

Gas Station - Special Person: Soft Drink Delivery Guy

I pulled into the next gas station I passed, not because I needed a fuck, but because I needed gas. I know. That’s a surprise, isn’t it? So after filling up the pickup, I grabbed my bag and headed inside. Of course, the soft drink delivery guy was not there, and only two clerks were manning the register. I hung around for a bit, waiting for a decent customer but no one came into the store that met that requirement. I thought about trying to seduce one of the clerks into the bathroom for a quick suck or fuck, but they seemed rather business like and I was pretty sure the older one was either a supervisor or a manager. With a sigh I headed off to the back of the store and went into the ladies room. It was empty except for me, so I had my pick of stalls. Once I was sitting, I extracted the vibroballs and hung them on the door hook. Talk about silly!

Getting out my Core Driller was easy enough, and it slid in nicely thanks to all the lubrication I had just recently expressed, but to be honest, it took me almost twenty minutes, and some pretty serious flicking, pinching, and rubbing before I was able to push my body into an orgasmic response. It wasn’t anywhere near as satisfying as fucking Greg, but it still felt good. It wasn’t until I was at the sink, already enduring the vibrations of the vibroballs again, washing the Core Driller, when I realized that I was supposed to wear the Clover clamps if I had to masturbate instead of fuck or suck. With a deep breath I pulled them out, holding the two clamps and their connecting chain up.

The nice thing about the Chevron shirt is that it doesn’t pull tight UNDER my breasts. Instead it’s a little open air with the point facing downward. Staring at myself in the mirror, I popped the shirt off my left breasts and delicately placed the pincer of the clamp on the nipple. It tightened, sending a sharp sensation through me. Pain laced through my breast, spiraling downward toward my sex. I recovered my breast, not that it made much difference. The rather clear outline of the clamp was easily visible through the material and the chain dangled down across my bared belly. I lifted the other clamp, lightening the load on my left breast and I exposed the other side of my chest. In short order I was clamped there too, the hanging chain providing weight and a visually intriguing accessory to my outfit. The shirt wasn’t long enough to hide the chain swinging across my belly between my breasts, though the clamps and a little bit of the chain right in the middle was concealed. My nipples hurt, quite a distraction I admit, and I felt my pussy contracting around the shaking trembling vibroballs.




I know it says something about me personally, but when I walked out of that restroom, I was already wet and wanting to fuck again. Does that make me some sort of sex addict? Does it mean I’m sick? Soft in the head? Or does it just mean that “nympho humiliation pain slut” is the perfect title for someone like me?

I did get quite a look from the younger of the two clerks who saw the chain and had absolutely no trouble figuring out what the chain was dangling from and how. I gave him one of my million watt please take me to the bathroom and fuck me up the ass while your partner screws my pussy and pull on this chain hard smiles.

Too bad I had already earned my one point.

Movie Theatre - Special Person: Ticket Taker

Just a bit further down the road is one of those multi-screen stadium seating theatres and it was relatively easy to drop in there and scope the place out. Sunday afternoon wasn’t packed, but the theatre was still doing business. Lots of people going to see the summer movies. In fact, I had just gone to see Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides a few days before with Becca. Good movie. Not quite as awesome as the first one but way better than two and three. Trust me. Jack Sparrow could do me in a heartbeat and he wouldn’t have to mistake a Spanish Convent for a brothel to find me either.

Master Brandon had stated that I my special person was the ticket taker. This posed something of a problem. First of all, I didn’t have a ticket. Second, the ticket taker appeared quite busy. Third, well… she was young, pretty, and barely legal. And by barely I mean that if I were hiring her to pose for nude pictures she’d have to wait a year.

But the age of consent in the grand State of Texas is seventeen and I’ll be totally honest. Amber looked delectable. She was this willowy blond with dark streaks in her hair, a bit too much eye liner, and these full pouty lips. Her hips and breasts were still pretty small, she hadn’t filled out much yet, but I could tell she would. She also had this innocence about her that I found immediately attractive. Ever seen a butterfly about to emerge from its chrysalis? That’s the feeling I got when looking at Amber.

I struck up a conversation with her and after ten minutes we were giggling together like school girls. This was interspersed occasionally with her taking someone’s ticket and directing them to the appropriate theatre, which she did very well. It only took her about ten minutes to summon the nerve to ask about the obvious part of my attire that was drawing attention.



“They’re nipple clamps,” I whispered conspiratorially. Her eyes widened.

“Oh my God! Don’t they, like, you know, hurt?” she asked.

I laughed and nodded. “A little, but it feels good to me. I like it. Of course I’m stuffed with vibroballs too.” I reached into the waist band of my skirt and extracted the remote control, complete with wire disappearing into my clothing. I stepped a bit closer and turned up the vibroballs to high so she could hear the buzzing. I shuddered a bit from the sensation as she watched, mouth a bit open.

“Why are you wearing them?” she asked, intently curious. I smiled at her. “I have to. I can’t take the clamps off or turn off the balls until I make someone cum.”

Her eyes widened and she suddenly looked around the lobby of the theatre. It was so cute. She didn’t even consider herself when looking for potential partners for me.

“You mean you have to seduce someone?” she asked, still astonished. Apparently this was rather new to her. I grinned and nodded again.

“So like, who are you going to chose?” she asked, once more looking around. Her eyes lingered on the two guys running the concession stand and then on a few of the customers. I gave her a warm smile and a very intense stare.

“I chose her awhile ago, Amber.”

It took a moment but finally the gears turned all around in there and the color drained from her face. Her eyes widened even more and she swallowed.

“Me?”

I nodded.

“Why me?” she squeaked.

I leaned in closer. “Because I want to taste you and make you cum.”

“But… but… I’m not…” she stammered, clearly disturbed.

“See if you can get relieved and meet me at the restroom,” I said authoritatively and walked away. Now everything rested with Amber. Would she come? Would she cum? I certainly hoped so! But everything was now up to her. I crossed to the other side of lobby and disappeared into the lounge in front of the restrooms.

I waited. And I waited. But it was less than fifteen minutes before Amber appeared. She saw me, eyes wide, trembling slightly. I grinned and stood up, my hand outstretched and she took it. I started for the restroom, but she shook her head, put a finger to her lips, and then led me to a door marked “employees only”. Moments later we were in the bowels of the theatre, hurrying down a well lit hallway. At almost a run we took a turn and then Amber was pulling me up a stairway. To my surprise I found myself on a second story. There were several small rooms, each containing a projector. Amber put a finger to her lips, and I understood. Be quiet. I followed her down another small hallway and then she opened the door at the end. We entered and she flipped on the light after the door closed.

Boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. Amber grinned at me.

“This is where we store the marketing stuff and reels. I looked down at one of the labels. It was for something called Dr. Wiggins’ Market. Never heard of it. Oh well. I turned back to Amber who was standing there, clearly unsure of what to do or how to do it. I took a step forward, lifted my hands, and cupped her face. She stiffened a bit at the touch, but as I leaned forward and kissed her, she seemed to melt a bit, leaning into my body as our lips melded. My fingers slid down her neck and over her shoulders and down her sides. No sense in taking it too quickly, right?

I bent my head and touched my lips to her jaw and then nibbled my way back as she tilted her head upward. I kissed her exposed neck and felt her shiver under my touch. With my hands around her waist, I pulled up the silly black polo shirt she was wearing and ran my fingers against the skin of her sides. She let out another gasp as I caressed her. She tasted like strawberries and cream and it took me a moment that I her hair was scented like something fruity. I totally agree with that. Women should ALWAYS smell like something sweet and fruity and delicious.

Amber finally touched me, putting her hands on my sides. It felt amazing. Her soft inexperienced hands moved up, encountered the chain, and didn’t know where to go next. I pulled my face away from her and then touched her hands with mine. I brought her finger tips up to my breasts and then helped her to grasp the shirt material and pull it, exposing both clamped breasts.

She let out a low whimper and reached up, clearly intending to remove the clamps. I stopped, her catching her fingers just in time.

“No!” I whispered. “Don’t take them off. Pull on them!” I begged. Her eyes widened and she grabbed the chain. One single gentle tug was enough to almost make me swoon and I reached out to her and lifted the polo shirt upward.

She was wearing a white cotton bra which in moments was fully exposed as she helped me pull the polo over her head. It was tossed to the side and then our hands were together, behind her back, working to release the clasp. Then we stood as the material fell, breast to breast, the steel coldness of the clover clamps the only thing between us. I reached down and began unbuttoning her pants and she let me. Pink panties with little purple hearts… how adorable! I tugged her panties down as well. She resisted just a little, pressing her thighs together. But a little pressure from me and in moments she was sitting on one box with me kneeling in front of her. I gently spread her legs. She tried to close them again, but my mouth left little hot kisses on her skin from the knee all the way up and as my mouth got closer and closer to her pussy she opened up more and more. Finally I was there. She didn’t shave but that didn’t bother me. What little hair she had by her petals was light and not in my way. My tongue darted out and she gasped as it hit her clit. Her fingers entwined in my hair and I gave her a slow circle of my tongue, thoroughly licking that tiny nub of sensitivity that I know so well.

I wished I could have taken my time. I would have loved to tie Amber to my bed and use my mouth on her for hours, alternating it with a vibrator and ice and hot wax and oil and so many other things. But I didn’t have hours, and neither did she. So I used my tongue and then my fingers. Imagine my surprise when I stuck two fingers into her body and found…

Holy Shit. A virgin.

I pulled back out and sucked my fingers clean. She tasted a bit like soap and delicate girl and I wrestled with myself on this one. God did I want to take her so bad! She was literally naked except for her socks, head tilted back, perfect little breasts popping outward, hips churning, wanting, desperate, needing, innocent. I needed to make her cum so I went back to sucking on her clit.

And she did cum. She came and cummed. A generous squirt of juice splattered my face as she exploded and she let out a quiet cry of absolute abandon. Her chest heaved and I saw her face flushed and passionate. Talk about a conquest! My own pussy was quivering and I knew that I was practically ready to fuck just about anything that moved. Slowly she recovered and I got hold of myself. She straightened up and finally looked at me, a dazed expression on her face.

“That was….” Her voice trailed off.

“Wonderful.” I bent down and picked up her bra and held it out. She took it gratefully, realizing that time was short. She hurried back into her clothes and then turned to face me.

“Can I take those clamps off you now?” she asked. I nodded. Her fingers reached up and pinched the little jaws open and I winced as the blood rushed back into my crushed nipples. I let out a little whimper and then she handed the clamps ot me. Oh god… I was almost too much.

She covered my breasts back up and then we hurried back downstairs, back through the hall where she gave me a deep rapid crushing kiss and hug before walking back out to the ticket station.

I went to the bathroom, jacked the vibroballs to maximum, and rubbed my fingers against my clit until I came, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Desperate people do desperate things.

Amber? We spoke. We traded phone numbers. I’m taking her out next Saturday. She has no clue what’s coming either. She won’t be a virgin when I’m done with her, trust me!
A Government Office of some kind - Special Person: Government Employee

Did you know that most government offices are not open on Sunday? Yeah, I did too. But for that matter, most government offices aren’t open on Saturday either, so berating myself for not doing it the day before wasn’t really an option. I guess I should take Master Brandon to task for such a difficult task. I must have driven around for forty minutes after leaving the movie theater looking for an OPEN government office before I found one, and the one I found was NOT the kind of place you want to be asking guys if they’d like to be sucked or fucked.

No, I wasn’t at a prison. But I might as well have been. Of course at prison you’ve got two types of guys. One type wants it but can’t have it. The other type wants it but shouldn’t have it. Nothing worse than being the loot in a state level game of cops and robbers.

It’s always been a fantasy of mine though… to get arrested by a police officer, physically and completely searched – preferably strip and body cavity type – forced to put on a prison jump suit, but with certain cuts made to certain parts, locked in solitary confinement where officer after officer came in to interrogate me about some crime, touching me, fucking me, making me suck them over and over. Handcuffed. I want to get fucked with someone’s baton, their flashlight, hell… what would it feel like to have my pussy pepper sprayed? Would it hurt? I want a cop with an old fashioned weighted sap, standing over me, bringing the leather paddle down right between my legs, or maybe across my breasts. Am I sick? Am I demented? Or am I just a nympho humiliation pain slut?

Or maybe at the very end, they take me to my new prison cell, and make a slight mistake. I’m pushed through the door and find myself in a large room, with 24 prisoners, all looking at me, all male. The gang bang only takes two minutes to start and doesn’t stop…

Okay… I’m good. Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to get lost in my thoughts!

Of course, walking around dressed like I was in the police station is not real smart either. Everyone probably thought I was a hooker. I mean, I was sorta dressed like one. Thank God I didn’t have the nipple clamps on. They were safely in my bag.

I admit, I did toy around with the idea of asking a cop to screw my brains out. But most cops are honorable guys, and unless you get them out of uniform and with a beer, cops are, in general, too good to corrupt that way. Even by free nooky. They even have a term for it – girls calling the cops to get a nice burly guy to come fuck them: fender licker calls.

So rather than risk getting arrested for soliciting sex I decided that I could handle another masturbation session with the Core Driller. I made my way to the women’s restroom and proceeded to use one of the stalls to do a rather complete and through self-fucking. The place was empty, right up to the moment when I was getting ready to cum. The door opened and I clenched my teeth together and struggled to keep things quiet. I stopped the pounding thrusts and just gently and slowly pushed the Core Driller in and out.

The woman who came in choose the stall next to mine. Worse, she wasn’t wearing heels like me, she was wearing a set of rather comfortable but serviceable black sneakers and I could see the hem line of her black pants. It took her a while to get set up too and I knew… there was a cop next to me.

Have you ever fucked yourself with a dildo? It’s not exactly super quiet. So I had to practically STOP, which was not cool. I tried to find a decent balance point between keeping myself sexually stimulated (so I wouldn’t loose my place) and not make more noise than any decent person would in a stall. I pumped slowly, felt the orgasm coming, tried to stop and then practically bit my tongue while my body reacted to the sweet stimulation and the feeling of having a twelve inch long, four inch thick, black rubber, rocket ship shaped cock shoved through me. I know I made SOME noise but I’m guessing from the lack of response that all Ms Police Officer was thinking was “what the hell is she crapping over there?”

With a deep and somewhat silent sigh, I pulled out the Core Driller and set it aside on the handrail above the toilet paper dispenser. Then I fished out my ben wa balls and inserted them, but didn’t turn them on. Are you kidding me? She would have heard it in a heartbeat in that restroom. Then I waited for her to finish and leave so I could go wash the Core Driller and put on the nipple clamps. And I waited. I got impatient and with a little clinking got out my clover clamps and put them on, wincing and gritting my teeth, breath held as I tried to stay as silent as possible. I think I let out a few grunts or groans, but hey… I could have just eaten a Chili Dog at James Coney Island.

Finally I got impatient. Ms. Police Officer evidently HAD eaten a chili dog at James Coney Island because she was spending an awful long time on the john for someone who wasn’t trying to masturbate quietly with a 12 inch long black rubber dildo. So I stood up, smoothed out my skirt, grabbed my purse and the dildo, and opened the stall door. A quick peek confirmed that someone was in one of the other three stalls, but no one was at the vanity. So I quickly went to the sink and began washing the Core Driller. I figured if Ms Chili Dog finished, I’d hear her getting her gear back in place LONG before my handling a 12 inch long dildo would be an issue.

However, it never occurred to me, and it should have, that ANOTHER police woman could walk through the door at any moment.

So imagine my surprise when the door swung open and in walked the female version of Wyatt Earp. I was half bent over the sink, cleaning with soap and water, what was OBVIOUSLY a 12 inch long black rubber dildo. Had I not been wearing a guilty expression of “oh shit” on my face, I might have gotten away with it. As it was, the first thing out of her mouth was “what the hell?”

I flushed crimson. “Uh… Just finishing!” I muttered and quickly turned away, hiding the dildo from sight. I made a few steps toward the paper towel dispenser.

“What the hell is that?” she demanded. “Hey. Turn around. Now.” The tone of voice she used made it clear that we were no longer “women who are all in the bathroom,” but “police woman and potential suspect”.

Of course that tone caused Ms. Chili Dog to rapidly finish up and start getting her gear into place even as I slowly and cautiously turned toward the second officer. She was blond, French braid, exactly what you’d expect. Her vest did unpleasant things to her figure, but she could have been cute. I have no clue. I don’t date female police officers, though maybe I should. If I’m ever going to have a shot at my fantasy, even if it’s only part of it, I’ll need someone with the right gear, right? Anyway, her right hand was on her gun, but she hadn’t drawn it thank God. I was quaking in fear.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing at my Core Driller. I held it up and it sort of flopped around a bit.

“Uh… It’s a model rocket ship.” I replied.

What? It IS! Have you seen it? It’s got little bumps and four stages and everything. Hell, paint it white and slap a NASA sticker on the damn thing and you could sell it in Wal-Mart for God’s sake!

There was a commotion behind me and the Officer Chili Dog came out looking a little grumpy.

“What’s going on? Oh… what the hell is that?”

“Oh my God. Is that a dildo?”

“Where you fucking that thing in here?”

How long is that thing?”

“You’re not serious…”

“No, I heard her! I thought she was just having digestive troubles. She must have been fucking herself with it.”

“What’s with the chain? Are those clamps? Shit!”

“Wow.”

“Disorderly conduct?”

“Nah. Public Lewdness?”

“Didn’t see it.”

“Jury wouldn’t like it.”

“Probably get thrown out by the D.A. No visuals, and you wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t been washing it in the sink.”

This is how the conversation went and I was definitely not a part of it. I did lower my hands though. Now I happen to be a college graduate and my degree is in criminal justice. To be honest, I was much more worried about the public lewdness issue. There was a case there. It wasn’t a great one, but these two officers COULD arrest me for public lewdness.

“Let me see that,” the second police officer said. Officer Chili Dog stepped closer. She was a heavier brunette, a bit older than the first. I held out the dildo and she took it, swing it like a baton.

“My god that thing is huge,” the blond asked.

“You don’t really get this whole thing up in there do you?” I was asked.

I was already rather embarrassed and wished they would just let me go. But technically I was still under “detention” and I knew it. I swallowed and nodded. “Yes ma’am, I can get it all in,” I replied.

“Seriously? All the way?” she asked.

I nodded. Officer Chili Dog laughed with disbelief. “I sure would love to see that!”

The conversation stopped suddenly. The blond police officer looked over at the brunette and I just sort of stood there. Things had gotten… uncomfortable.

Officer Chili Dog turned toward the other officer. “Jan, I’ll handle this one, okay?”



The blond looked at both of us and then gave this sort of rueful smile. “Sure. I got a report to write anyway. Don’t take too long though.” She turned around and walked out of the bathroom.

I blinked and the words What The Fuck appeared in glowing flashing lights above my head.

I turned toward the other woman and said intelligently, “uhhhh….”

She laughed. “You’re not under arrest, and you’re free to go. But if you are willing, I’d absolutely love to see that thing fit inside you.” She pointed back toward the stall I had just vacated.

Well gosh, that’s just not an opportunity you get every day, is it? I mean how often does a lesbian cop ask you to masturbate for her? Not very often. So I took a deep breath, nodded my agreement, and went back into the stall. Officer Chili Dog followed and leaned up against the wall as I turned and faced her.

“Are those clamps on your nipples? She asked. I nodded.

“Don’t suppose you’d mind showing me? Should be easy enough,” Officer Chili Dog asked. I took a deep breath and popped both breasts out of the shirt, exposing the tight crushed nipples, both locked within the powerful bite of the clover clamps. The police woman smiled, staring at my breasts.

“Well, go ahead. I want to see that thing go in there.” She waved her hand, hurrying me a long.

I sat down on the toilet a second time and lifted my skirt, spreading my legs. Of course not wearing panties makes it much easier to get to your pussy and I heard a muttered “should have guessed” from the police woman. Then I reached down and extracted the vibro balls.

Officer Chili Dog came off the wall and took two steps forward. “What the hell are those? My god, are you some sort of slut?”

My reply was automatic and out of mouth before even thinking about it. “I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut,” I said.

She grunted as I put aside the vibroballs and took the remote out of my waist band. I grabbed the Core Driller from where it was sitting, wedged between the wall and the handicap hand rail. The vibroballs got set down on the toilet paper dispenser and I brought the Core Driller down between my legs.

She watched every second and even got closer to get the nitty gritty. I worked it in, partially turned on from the absolute worst humiliation of the day not to mention the fact that I was still scared of going to jail. Sure, I could call Kari, but I’m not even willing to IMAGINE the punishment I’d earn for THAT. I’d be lucky if I’d even be able to WALK for a few days.
I did manage to work the Core Driller in rather deeply and quickly thanks to the clamps, circumstances, and the fact that I was still pretty well soaked. Officer Chili Dog watched the whole thing and when I was deep in the throes of ecstasy, legs spread, breasts clamped, not even bothering to keep my voice down or try to hide my noises, the police officer came up to me, grabbed the Core Driller, and rammed it several time into me for herself, making sure that all 12 inches was fully embedded. I groaned and she grabbed the chain between the clamps and pulled nicely. I popped immediately.

“Nicely done,” she said, complimenting me. “Just don’t do it at the police station again, okay?”

I nodded as she stepped out of the stall and left the bathroom. I repeated the process I had done just a bit before. I pulled out the Core Driller, replaced it with the vibroballs, and then cleaned the Core Driller in the sink. I’m going to admit it. I was sore. It was also getting late and I was getting hungry. I got everything tucked away (either inside me) or in the bag. Then I stepped out of the bathroom.

To my surprise, there was an out of order sign on the door. That hadn’t been there before and the only thing I can surmise is that the blond cop put it there. I headed for the entrance and the safety of my truck. But as I was walking out, I saw Officer Chili Dog and in a sudden flash of brilliant inspiration, I approached her. She was talking with someone and I waited politely until they were finished. Then she turned to me, face wary, but very professional.

“Can I help you miss?” she asked.

“Can I get your name and badge number?” I asked.

That wariness in her eyes suddenly turned to major concern and she put her hand on her belt. The leather creaked under the stress of her grip.

“And why do you need that?” she asked.

I stepped closer to make sure no one could possibly over hear me.

“Because I like being in handcuffs, and would love to be searched properly.”

That look of wariness flashed into surprise and then became a smile. She fished a business card out of her pocket and grabbed her pen, scribbling something on the back.

“Don’t call 911 to talk to me, sweetheart. Call my cell phone.”

She handed me the card and walked away. I still have it. I haven’t called the police yet. But I’m planning on it. Fantasy… here I come!

As I left I realized that despite two masturbations and the clear involvement of a government official, I still hadn’t earned more than a single point. Damn. I wish I could have fucked her!

Comic Book Store - Special Person: Any geek

I went looking for a comic book store at that point and to my dismay, people don’t buy comic books on Sunday. Surprise surprise. Every store I looked up and went to was CLOSED! How’s that for crappy? So I went to an upscale large book store, figuring… gosh, they’d have comic books, right? Well they do. But evidently comic book people really don’t buy them from Barnes & Nobel. Maybe it’s the selection. Beats me. But I hung around in the comic section, getting hungrier and hungrier as NO ONE came up and even LOOKED at the comic book stuff. Or was it called “graphic novels?” Whatever. By that time I would gladdly have screwed just about anyone who showed up. Qualifiers? “Have you ever read a Batman comic book?” would have been enough. As it was the combination of the vibroballs, nipple clamps, and hunger motivated me to go find an appetizer for dinner.

That appetizer came in the form of a good looking guy I picked up in the music section. He was not a geek. Definitely not a geek. Sorry. I did LOOK for a geek, but I was in a preppy part of town and the store employees were starting to give me looks. I mean, I was hanging around wearing a shirt that revealed some questionable personal jewelry and didn’t do much to conceal or obscure HOW the chain was hanging.

When I approached Jessie, this rather dashing college aged guy with a mop of curly brown hair, he seemed a bit shy. But it didn’t take long for my particular brand of charm to put him at ease and soon we were laughing together. I had my hands on him a few minutes later. When I told him I wanted to take him to the bathroom and suck his cock, his only reaction was surprise and then a quick nod.

I’m going to admit, I’m tired of fucking in bathrooms. The problem with these “fuck in public” assignments is that if you don’t want to get arrested, where else do you even get a smidgen of privacy, right? I mean, was I just going to whip out his dick right there in the computer software section? Should I have taken him over to the café? Or how about the customer service desk? Hell, there’s a fucking STAGE in the children’s area. How about that?

Exactly. No good place. So it was back to the bathrooms.

I was just ready to move on so I did Jessie pretty quick. We weren’t interrupted either, which was rather nice. I’ve had bathroom sucks before where it was either me suck EVERYONE or meeting a nice police officer.

Jessie’s cock wasn’t anything special, but it was decent in size and frankly, I would have loved to fuck him. But I was worried about doing it in the restroom like that. It would have taken twice or three times as long and in the end, my concern over the time and exposure was more pressing that the buzzing of the vibroballs and the pinch of the clamps. Besides, I got to take the clover clamps off the moment we finished, and trust me, after I swallowed his cum, I took those clamps of with relief.

Jessie, who thought I was the best girl who ever lived, asked me out for dinner and in the interest of my pocket book and time, I agreed. It was already after six and we had a really nice one hour dinner. We left my truck at the book store and went in his Sentra. Nice car actually. I got to see a lot of it. Even the back seat.

Large Parking Lot - Special Person: Security Guard

After dinner we played a new game. It was called “Do As I Say”. Jessie, who was reacting quite well to the fact that my hand was literally down the front of his pants, took my directions in stride. When we pulled back into the parking lot of the bookstore, I had him pull into a parking spot well out of the way of the other cars, in a back corner, where it would be easy to see an approaching car. I pulled my hand out of his pants and then told him to wait there for a moment.

It was already dark outside and I got out of the car. Then I got in the back seat. The first thing I did was untie my shirt. Bare breasted, I then worked my skirt down. Jessie watched, astonished from the front seat. I laid both articles of clothing on the seat back and then made a simple “come hither” gesture with one finger. In seconds Jessie was out of the car and jumping into the back seat.

Well, it wasn’t a suburban, let me tell you that. But it wasn’t bad either. Jessie was intrigued by the vibroballs and spent several minutes playing around with the settings before finally pulling them out and letting me straddle his lap. I slid downward, impaling myself on his cock, feeling his muscular thighs underneath me as his mouth came down on my nipples, sucking and licking and tasting me. Sometimes, it’s a good thing to be a delicacy. We moved gently and as far as vanilla sex goes, it was rather nice.

His strong hands caressed me, my breasts, my arms, my shoulders, my back, and then came to rest on my bottom, squeezing me even as I rocked my hips, his cock gliding through me like a well oiled machine. It was so much better than the Core Driller, so much better than the vibroballs. It was real, live, blood engorged cock. And it was inside me.

I came first, a relief from the tension and torture I had endured all through dinner and frankly, since I had masturbated a second time in front of that police officer. I’m not usually so voracious, but being put on display, in a position of sexual torment, having to suck cock, well… all of it was just enough to make sure that I was ready to pop almost from the moment I got stuffed.

After I exploded it was Jessie’s turn and I worked my carnal magic until his calves tightened and he thrust once hard up into me, his fingers clutching my body. I brought my face down and kissed him as he exploded, our bodies melded together in a stupid car, sitting in a parking lot.

What a fucking waste.

Bar - Special Person: Bartender

Nine thirty found me pulling into one of our local bars, a country western place I’ve frequented in the past. Usually, it’s been a good spot to find a willing, mostly drunk, cowboy with a large cock and the willingness to use it and not remember what the hell happened the previous night. That’s always good when you aren’t looking for a relationship. You have to be careful with cowboys. They tend to become possessive and the last thing I needed was a brand on my ass and fist fights over who would get to fuck me repeatedly.

I grabbed a hat from behind the seat of my truck. The rest of my attire, while not country, wouldn’t be terribly out of place unless I tried to line dance (I don’t line dance by the way. Don’t ask me. I’m terrible at it.) So in a mixture of country and contemporary, I waltzed in to the bar and looked for the bar tender.

Not a chance in hell. He was too busy. The likelihood that I would be able to either suck or fuck the bartender was about as good as me winning the lottery or flying to India in order for Avishkar Ghule to fuck me tomorrow morning. So with a sigh of disappointment I turned away from the bar and began looking for the right guy.

The right guy showed up a few moments later. I wasn’t picky. Typical cowboy. Blue jeans, dark skin, stubble of a beard, button up oxford, boots. He smelled like horses too and had already had a few too many. It wasn’t hard to convince him to follow me into a corner and have a seat behind a table. I saw next to him and let him do some rather rough touching before I slipped a hand into his lap and worked his jeans open. It took a bit of work to get his cock hard, which rather sucked, but we finally got there. Then I slid under the table and sucked and sucked.

He groaned. He moaned. He slammed his fist on the table top. I grabbed my hair. He made some rather loud comments. Thank God NO ONE paid any attention whatsoever. He was groaning loudly as I stroked his balls and then he popped without warning, a quick sudden spurt that literally caught me unprepared and sent a splatter of cum across my face and down my bare shoulder. I blinked, shaking my head, but then suddenly he stood up, cock hanging out, as he stumbled out onto the dance floor.

OMG.

I kind of left then as a number of the other guys corralled him and made him put his package away. I was already heading out the door as he pointed back to the table and told them there was this girl sucking his cock and she’d do everyone. Yeah… not cool. I took a deep breath. It was late, going on eleven o’clock and way past my bed time. I got in my truck, slipped the vibroballs back in and set them on low. I still had one more location to do and it was a doozy.

Your Living Room - Special Person: Your dad.

To my surprise, there were lights on when I pulled up to the house. I let out a rather disgruntled snarl since it meant I had to change out of my shirt and skirt into my denim shorts and tee shirt before going in. I did it quickly and with my cum splattered shirt and skirt under my arm, I went inside.

Like the previous night, it was my father who was sitting in the living room. The History Channel was on and he was deeply engrossed in some Vietnam Show. I waved at him when I came in.

“What are you doing still up, Dad?” I asked. I might have been a bit surly toward him. The living room was the last place I needed to do “something sexual” in. My plan had been to masturbate there with the Core Driller.

He smiled. “Oh, just really wanted to see this show. You’re home late.”

I shrugged. “Been out and about.”

“I’m sure,” He replied.

How… uncomfortable. I bit my lip and then told him good night. After climbing the stairs I retreated to my bedroom, tossed my dirty clothes in the laundry and then headed to the bathroom. A quick shower was exactly what I needed and I came out feeling refreshed and ready for anything. I tucked the vibroballs back in, but I didn’t turn them on. Instead I set my cell phone alarm to wake me later, around one thirty in the morning. My dad would be in bed and asleep by then and I could finish.

A few hours later I woke to the sound of my cell phone alarm and quietly got out of bed. I was wearing a nightgown and I stripped off my panties and took out the vibroballs. Then as quietly as I could, I grabbed my Core Driller dildo and my small bottle of grapeseed oil and headed downstairs. Everything was dark and quiet and I left the lights off as I settled down on the couch. A moment later I had one leg up on the arm rest and the other spread wide. A thin coating of oil lubricated the tip of the Core Driller and I tugged up my nightgown, exposing my shaven slit. The tip of the dildo slipped through me rather nicely, catching only slightly on my opening. Of course, the next slide through my pussy dipped the tip inward, and thus back and forth, I slowly but surely worked myself up into a chest heaving frenzy. Finally I slid the Core Driller in, feeling it open me, spreading me, fucking me, impaling me. I drew it back out and plunged it in again. My eyes were closed and I whimpered softly, totally caught up in the abandon of sexual gratification. I knew masturbating would only get me one single point, but I didn't care, and there are some things you just shouldn’t and can’t do, right? I fucked myself stupid with that giant toy, and I was so close...

The lights flipped on and I opened my eyes to see my father staring down at me. I dropped the dildo and closed my legs, hurriedly pulling my night gown down. I could tell that he had seen everything: the huge black rubber dildo sliding in and out of me, my spread loins, my moaning ecstasy filled face, all of it. My face was scarlet and I admit I felt a flash of fear. Oh my fucking god. What would he say? What would he do? He just stood there, his cane in one hand, staring down at me. I shrank back into the cushions, the Core Driller digging into my thigh. I wasn't about to move to keep it from poking me.

My father limped across to the easy chair and sat down. His withered right leg was bent at a slightly wrong angle and I felt a flash of anger at what life had done to my dad. He took a deep breath, eyes still on me, pinning me to the couch. His fingers folded together and he licked his lips.

"Gotta tell you, Breanne," he paused. "I'm really enjoying the blog. N.H.P.S. huh? Fascinating reading though."

The sinking feeling I had been harboring in my gullet suddenly turned to lead and iron and then plunged through my intestines, tearing me to shreds. My heart thumped painful against my chest.

"It's good to know about Kari, though. I always thought something was going on between the two of you. Granted, didn't think it was THAT, but your mom kept saying ya'll were just friends."

I swallowed hard. Oh my GOD. My DAD has been reading Michael's BLOG! He’s been reading my assignments? Holy SHIT!

"Does Mom know?" I croaked out, my entire body feeling like it had been body slammed into the wall. My life was over. Even now I’m still floored.

Dad shook his head. "Nope. She's not into the computer. I only found out by accident. Friend of mine emailed me a link since he knew I lived in Katy. Thought I'd get a kick out of reading about a local. Took me all of about five minutes to figure out it was you. I always thought you were a little dark."

My father was not reacting like I thought he would. "You don't mind?" I squeaked.

He glanced over at me? "Mind? That my kid is screwing her way from one side of Houston to the other on a daily basis?" He shook his head. "Ah... not really. You should have seen me back in the sixties with your Mom at college." He laughed. "Maybe one day I'll tell you about that party your mom and I went to."

Talk about uncomfortable. I shifted on the couch and the Core Driller prodded me again in the ass. Not cool. I took a deep breath. This changed things. IT HAS changed things. Everything in fact. My dad knows about me. And worse, he's okay with it. I guess I'm not the weirdest one in my family, am I.? I pulled the Core Driller out from under my ass and held it up. My Dad clearly saw it, wet with oil and my juices.

"Sorry I interrupted you. I thought you might be here tonight,” he said.

I rotated on the couch, tossing the Core Driller aside. My dad sat opposite me, in a tee shirt and his night shorts. He grinned at me. I smiled back.

"Dad?" I asked softly. He cocked one eyebrow.

"I've got a question to ask you." My voice faltered. I couldn't believe I was about to do this...

"A Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut question?"

I nodded. He smiled at me.

And I did. I asked it. Assignment finished.


Total Points: 161

* Update: Evidently I can't count worth a damn. Thanks DJ and Kittish... guess I deserve a punishment just for that...