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Amorous Goods: Three Horny Monkeys � Part 2 "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil." Based on a post by ShowTime8. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods. Continuing from Part 1. Chapter Fifteen. 'Arising from its charm? WTF?' Sam had thought at the time. But old Freitag had sure been right, the photographer remembered now. Everyone had been very happy indeed with the pictures he'd taken that night. "How about we look at some of the images we've captured so far?" Sam said to So-Young. He grabbed his laptop and a cable from his desk, and then took a seat next to her on the sofa. Her nipples looked ready to cut glass and he could positively smell her musky sex, but he'd learned to take it slow and really build up the legitimate aspects of what they were doing together so that what followed would come naturally, with no hesitation or regret. Sam connected his camera to the laptop and booted up the viewer. He nodded at a throw pillow beside her, which the young model placed on her naked lap. Sam put the computer on the pillow. Whatever image he brought up for review in the camera viewfinder, she would see displayed on the computer screen. "You have been magnificent," he told her. "One of my best models ever. I know we have many pictures you and your husband are going to love. But we'll take a quick look through to make sure we have everything you want in this setting or if maybe a certain pose should be re-done for whatever reason. Okay?" So-Young glowed at the praise and nodded. As the pictures slowly rolled across the computer screen, she felt the warmth in her lower belly growing even stronger as she saw her body through his eyes. The first shots were in her own red baby dolls and So-Young thought she looked very nervous and unsure of herself, more like a teenager than a 24-year old woman, but Sam was praising the images. "You look so sweet and innocent here," he purred. "But your outfit and the way you hold your beautiful body are on the edge of dirty." He turned his head to look into her eyes. "Are you a young innocent, about to give yourself to your first lover? Or a dangerous Lolita about to take away a married man's fidelity?" The young wife blushed and re-examined the photos with Sam's perspective. As they progressed, she had changed outfits a few times, each one somehow more risqu� than the ones before. The looks on her face also changed, following the same progression from innocent interest to carnal desire. Then suddenly she realized the photos they were looking at now showed her completely unclothed. They were the last ones they'd shot, since she'd done her beauty poses for him. She was naked in them, just as she was naked now; but she was also somehow more than just nude. Her head raised from the monitor and looked at him with a hint of doubt. "You're surprised at how comfortable you feel, aren't you?" he crooned. He'd been on the lookout for the doubt and was ready. "I have to say how impressed I am with your poise, with your confidence. You truly carry yourself like a professional. Yes, a professional. I almost feel like I should be paying you for this session, not the other way around." A smile began to creep across her face. "I did say 'almost'," he offered with a small laugh. "I'm afraid I'll still need my fee." The humor did the trick and all doubt left her. She returned her gaze to the screen. There were full body shots from high and low, close ups of her ass from side and back, shots of her thick bush with a light aimed directly at it to show its texture and the shine of the wetness building beneath, and many angles of the tits that she secretly feared were too small, but now looked absolutely perfect. She especially liked some where he'd had her caress or hold her tits and you could clearly see the three jade monkeys dangling over tit and nipple. 'No Ludwig Freitag to stop me from taking pictures of the treasure now,' Sam thought as he looked at what had become one of his signature shots. "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil," So-Young said softly, almost like a mantra. Chapter Sixteen. "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil." Sam remembered hearing Mrs. Terwilliger saying the same thing to Mr. Terwilliger while he moved in to get pictures of their faces so close, so loving, so romantic in the midst of so much debauchery. "Exactly," the husband had replied. "I see no evil, only beauty. I hear no evil, only words of desire. And what we speak cannot be evil, because it comes from our hearts." Romantic words to go with the romantic kisses, Sam had thought, wishing he had a video camera. He'd suggested bringing one, since he'd shot video of the Terwilligers in their home. But Freitag had said no, it was too easy to capture inadvertent images and too hard to find and delete them afterward. Maybe on a future visit, Sam had thought, if I can prove myself this time. He'd gotten back to proving himself with his camera, but he'd really had to work at it because he kept getting caught up in the words between the Terwilligers. "Has it felt good; has it been exciting?" The Mister asked while staring into his wife's eyes. "Yes," was all the Missus said. Sam noticed the bank officer had his hand on the kindergarten teacher's wrist; the same wrist with the bracelet. In fact, his hand was covering most of it and Sam took the chance to get a shot he hoped would pass Freitag's censorship; there were just a few links of silver in one area, and just enough of one jade monkey to know it was the one with its hands over its mouth. "And there's nothing wrong with that, is there?" the man continued. "No," she answered. Sam thought she sounded a bit hypnotized at first, but then she repeated, "No," in a strong, clear voice. "There is nothing wrong with that at all." A full smile broke across her face. "It's been good to watch all these wonderful people making love and now it's going to be even better to take part; to enjoy the pleasure around us." "I've wanted to for a long time," she admitted. "And I'm ready." She paused. "Are you ready?" she asked with a slightly sinister tone. Mr. Terwilliger didn't have the charmed bracelet to banish his doubts, but he'd committed them to this step. "Yes. Shall I ask the first stranger to fuck you?" Of course, they weren't really strangers, but that was the play they'd scripted. "No," she answered, drawing a look of surprise from her husband. "I want the biggest one first, not the smallest one." The banker raised one eyebrow. The teacher carried on. "Instead of building up to the biggest one, I want to start with him, and then challenge myself to squeeze down on the smallest even after I'm fucked out." The look on her face was indescribably wanton and sensuous and challenging and Sam still thought it might be the best image he'd ever captured. A giant enlargement of that face, with that look, now hung on his bedroom wall, looking at him every night. Chapter Seventeen. Looking now at the exotic Asian beauty of the young Mrs. Lee, Sam wondered if he might not have a chance to capture another perfect moment. "Exactly," the duplicitous photographer responded to his bewitched model. "I see no evil, only beauty. I hear no evil, only words of desire. And what we speak cannot be evil, because it comes from our hearts." Sam had stolen this line from Mr. Terwilliger (although he suspected Terwilliger had stolen it first from Freitag) and used it often with his models. Sam took the computer from So-Young's lap and disconnected it from his camera as he walked to his desk. When he returned to the sofa, he snatched the pillow off her lap with a flourish and a smile and tossed it aside. He reached out, took her hand and raised her to her feet. He stood close in front of her and So-Young realized viscerally how much she towered over him, even though she was only 5' 6". She'd never had this perspective on a grown man before and found it remarkably sexy and powerful. She played the role of the man and bent down to kiss him. She hadn't kissed a man other than her husband this way for almost four years, but she didn't feel guilty. She just felt horny. Sam reveled in the passion of her kiss and almost lost his way. The charm had worked and she was his and he was more than ready to take her. Fortunately, he still had his camera in his hand and when it bumped up against the woman's naked thigh during their kiss, he remembered that he had much more to do with John Lee's wife before he fucked her. Sam Dolan pulled back, still holding the Korean beauty's hand in his. "Come my dear," he said softly as he led her over to the bedroom part of the set. So-Young couldn't believe the man's self-control and will power and it just made her want to give up her own control and submit to his will even more. She padded obediently behind him to the edge of the double bed. The man stroked her tits and belly as he said, "Your husband is going to love the pictures we've taken so far. But you know he'll really lose his mind when he sees your beautiful body laid out on a bed for his pleasure, won't he?" This little word play served a dual purpose for Sam. He'd found that every reference back to the original plan appeared to make it easier for his victims to think that whatever outrageous thing he asked them to do next, it fit properly into that plan. The other purpose was for his alibi tape. Sam had a couple of wide-angle video cameras in the ceiling that covered the entire set. Their microphones were mated to other mics by the sofa and bed. If anyone ever challenged him on the authenticity of a wayward wife's model release signature on his full-ownership/full-use contract, all he had to do was show them the video of the wife agreeing to everything; all in the name of pleasing her husband. "Yes, yes he will," So-Young said honestly. She could easily imagine her husband John taking her on their marital bed, with the Boudoir album lying open alongside them so he could be sure she was in the same position as in the photos. It made her pussy tingle even more and she wished John was here right now so Sam could take photos of them making love. Then, Sam's finger was inside her wet pussy and So-Young's imagination took another leap; to where John took Sam's camera to take pictures of her fucking another man. When the little man slipped a second finger inside her, So-Young grabbed the back of his head and pulled his mouth to her tit. He suckled as he finger-fucked her and the enchanted wife felt an orgasm building up inside her. Then suddenly Sam was gone and So-Young felt desperately empty. He marched over to where her original red satin baby doll lay on a chair and tossed it at her. She barely managed to capture the outfit against her torso; her eyes were wide, wanting Sam's touch, his direction. "Put that on," he growled, struggling to hold himself back from attacking the dripping pussy. But he put the attention on her, to build up her own passion. "You liked my fingers inside of you, didn't you?" She eagerly nodded yes. "But that wouldn't be enough for you would it?" She looked a bit perplexed. "What do you want even more than my fingers?" A smile grew on her face. "Your cock!" she declared. "Won't you give it to me?" His return smile was decidedly more evil than hers. "Oh yes, yes I will. But we need other images first. I know that once I give you my cock, I won't be able to see straight and so won't be able to take any more pictures. And you want more pictures for your portfolio, don't you?" So-Young was very pleased to know that Sam thought she'd fuck him cross-eyed, but he was such a strong man, such a professional about his photography, and she knew he was right, she did want more pictures for her album. More naughty pictures to show her husband. And her friend Chae-Won, she thought suddenly. That would be a whole other type of fun to compare photos with her sexy friend. She kept smiling as she put on the baby-doll she'd brought from home. For the next 30 minutes Sam posed her on the bed in the red satin and in the other outfits she'd worn in the "living room." But this time each set ended up with her more exposed; finding different ways to pull the fabric of the outfits either up into her soaking wet crack, or away from her straining nipples or cutely wrinkled asshole. The last shots captured So-Young's face and body straining in orgasm as she frantically played with herself through a set of crotchless panties. Now she eyed Sam's crotch with almost ravenous hunger, but he forced a bottle of mineral water into her hand and told her to take a drink and then put on the red satin baby doll again. "No more wine?" she asked, though that wasn't what she was really frustrated about. "We want to be relaxed, not sloppy," he replied. Another link in the alibi tape; 'No, he hadn't gotten her drunk and taken advantage.' So-Young did what she was told. Sam walked over to a shelf against the wall and returned with a plastic box. He pulled off the lid and she saw it was full of different types of sex toys and lubricants. "It's time for the next stage," he told her in his firm, masterful voice. He brought over a video camera mounted on a tripod and set it up pointing at her sitting on the edge of the bed in her red pajamas with their wet stains. He turned it on. He picked up his still camera and started taking more pictures of her as he spoke. "We've taken the "safe" photos you can show your friends and the "exposed" photos you can show your nastier friends. Now we're going to take some toy photos that will make your husband really excited. Then we're going to take the pictures with the real cock. It's up to you if you share those with John." Sam moved so he was in front of and just to the side of the video camera, so she was almost looking into it as she looked at him. "And we're going to add video, to really capture your pleasure and excitement. Is that what you want, baby?" Sam demanded. "Do you want me to take photos and videos of you fucking yourself with your fingers? With toys? With another man's cock?" She began doing the first thing, pulling the crotch of her pajama bottom to the side and jamming her fingers inside her cunt before answering. "Yes! Fingers, toys and cock! I want you to record it all, to take pictures of everything." "Did you know you wanted to be an exhibitionist before? Have you ever wanted your husband to show you off in public? Or take dirty pictures of you and put them on the Internet?" "Oh, my God!" the bewitched young woman cried out. "I've never done that, never talked about it. But you're right, I do want to. God, the idea is so exciting." Her fingers were flying over her clit. "Let people watch me. Let them know what a slut I am! Ah ah ah," she screamed in another orgasm. Sam was feeling golden. He didn't plan on her, or especially her husband, ever finding out what he was going to do with her photos and video, but even if they did, this last little bit would make it very clear it was all with her consent and even desire. And of course, he wouldn't ever have to tell them that the consent had been obtained fraudulently by his three magic monkeys Chapter Eighteen. "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil," said Morgana Delacroix to her two young partners in the basement of the Amorous Goods mansion. "What does it mean to you?" Vikki answered first, with her undergraduate studies in history and a graduate degree and experience in archiving academic and literary collections. "Most people tie it back to ancient China and the teachings of Confucius and/or Buddhism. Either way, we know it best in the west with its treatment in Japan after Buddhist monks introduced the maxim. And all of that boils down to living properly. Not taking part in evil or looking for it in others. Don't pre-judge, don't blindly accept bad things you hear; really look and listen and learn. And don't speak evilly about other people and ideas, even if you don't agree with them." Dylan's degree was in the much more pragmatic school of business and his post-graduate studies had been in the cold-blooded arena of deal-making and profit-taking. He laughed. "Gee, I always thought it was more a code of silence, like among the Mafia. 'Sorry, Officer, I didn't see anything, I didn't hear anything, and I'm not saying anything.'" Morgana smiled ruefully. "You two have framed it perfectly. From Vikki's side, imagine a bracelet with a light charm to help its wearer have a more open mind, not be judgmental of people different from her, and to be more open minded to new images, sounds and ideas. A very nice charm, intended for good. But over on Dylan's side, what if that charm was corrupted so that the wearer started to lose her sense of right and wrong? What she saw and heard while wearing the bracelet never seemed evil. And she wouldn't say anything to stop those acts. She might not even say anything after taking the bracelet off, because they'd never registered as evil actions." "How far could it go?" Dylan asked worriedly. "Is it like the hypnotist we talked about earlier? You can still only push a person up to their personal limit, but not beyond?" "I think that's why Ludwig put in that question mark in the ledger," the occultist replied. "I don't think he knew how far past their normal limits a person would go. Remember that even a non-evil enchantment can make people admit to and act upon fantasies they'd never really considered before; like the charmed lingerie. But a truly cursed item could potentially make the wearer think there was nothing wrong with murder. Or since Ludwig specialized in erotica, that there was nothing wrong with rape. Even their own. It could turn a person into a monster or a monster's victim." Chapter Nineteen. Sam went into a frenzy of activity; switching between still and video cameras. He had So-Young use the different toys in different positions and different outfits. He had a mental checklist of special requests he'd received from subscribers and tried to fill as many of those as he could because they would bring in the biggest tips. He had her talk about craving her husband's cock for one audience and then belittle John's cock for another audience. He kept letting her know how beautiful, how sexy, how professional she was and how good she was doing with her photo shoot; her completely normal photo shoot. She'd never deep-throated a cock, but now she'd taken three different sized dildoes. The same was true for her ass. Sam had learned he could get anyone to give up their ass at least once, but if getting past that initial uncertainty and fear didn't develop some true pleasure from the act, it was better to let it go, rather than risk breaking the spell. So-Young clearly had been raised to believe it was tabo

Amorous Goods: The Victrola � Part 2 An old record player and a ring changes their lives. Based on a post by ShowTime8. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods. It was the end of the quarter for us, and I was tied up in meetings and spreadsheets for several days, making sure everything was as it should be. I went over all the expense reports, the balance sheets, and the spreadsheets provided by the various departments. I also spent a lot of time making sure our tax filings were correct, so I didn't have much time at work to do any research on the record player. I also spent that time watching Terri closely. I noticed some things after a few days. Call it a trend, if you wish. For starters, she always wore that ring on the days she went to the Parker house. I also realized that we never had sex on those days, or most of the other days for that matter, but Never on the days she wore that ring. I also noticed her temperament was quite different on the days she was at the house. Instead of the carefree, happy woman I married, she seemed distant and sometimes short-tempered. At first, I thought it was the stress of selling the place, but she was always under stress to sell more property, so that couldn't be it. What was so different about those days, I wondered. I also noticed that she was spending more days at the Parker house than before, and she was coming home later and later. Sometimes, she wouldn't get home before midnight. She always dressed professionally and she never appeared disheveled when she came home. I never said anything because I didn't want to set her off. The few times I asked if everything was okay, she simply said, "just fine," waving me off before she turned and went the other way. Eventually, the kids began to notice as well. Both of them came to me, asking if there was anything wrong between Terri and me. "It's just that damn house she's been trying to sell," I told them. "Well I hope she sells it soon. It's like she's two different people, and I want our old Mom back," April said. "Yeah, me too," I said. It was about the middle of October when things settled down at work. By then, I had found what I thought might be a solution to the volume issue. I found a couple websites where people said they used to put socks in the horns to quiet them a bit. According to one site, that's where the phrase, "put a sock in it" came from. Whatever works, I thought, but I didn't want to use anything that might scratch the ornate wooden horn, so I found a nice soft towel and decided to give that a try. The next day, I put the towel in the horn of the old player and tested it with "Stars and Stripes Forever." Sure enough, it worked like a charm. I could even open the office door as it played and no one was bothered by it. I decided to try it with the unlabeled record during my lunch hour. When the time came, I grabbed my lunch out of the refrigerator; a sandwich, a banana, a small bag of chips and a Pepsi; packed by myself, since Terri was too busy these days to really care about much except her work. I closed the door, put up my "out to lunch" sign and pulled the shades; a signal to everyone else to leave me alone; and fired up the player. I had just taken a bite out of my sandwich when I heard the voice of a man with a slight accent come out of the horn. "Good afternoon, Mr. Thornton," the man's voice said. I nearly spewed Pepsi out of my nose when that happened. I looked at the Victrola, shocked. "Yes, I'm talking to you, Mr. Thornton. Jack, isn't it? May I call you Jack?" "Uh, yeah, Jack is fine," I said. "And who are you?" "I'm Jonas Parker," the man said. "But how can that be?" I asked. "You're dead. Aren't you?" "It is true that my physical body no longer functions and is what you would call 'dead,' at least on the physical plane you perceive as reality, but the essence of who and what I really am continues on," the man said. "You might call it the soul." "But how is that possible?" I asked. The man laughed before continuing. "What was it the Bard once wrote?" Jonas asked. "Ah yes, 'There are more things in heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' You have no idea how correct he was." "But how can you be speaking to me through this phonograph?" I asked. "Because it was once mine," he said. "It was in my home for many years and like so many other things in my home, it has become what you might call enchanted. Or cursed, as the case may be. Although I am glad it is now in the hands of someone who appreciates history as you do. I know it will be well cared for." "You still haven't answered my question," I said. "HOW is all this possible?" "Very well," the man said. "I don't have time to explain more than 50 years of work, but I'll give you a brief synopsis. In 1921 an amateur archaeologist named Alfred Watkins discovered that ancient sites around the world, both man-made and natural, seemed to have a form of alignment. When looked at on a map, they seemed to be arranged in straight lines. These lines were later called 'ley lines,' and the points where those lines intersect were thought to be highly charged with pockets of supernatural energy that can be harnessed by some individuals. "It turns out that my house happens to sit at the intersection of six of these lines. My grandfather was something of a spiritualist in his day, and felt there was something special about the location, so he built the house there, long before Watkins made his discovery. Naturally, I took up his work and traveled the world looking for clues; anything that might give me answers. "Along the way, I collected a number of artifacts and trinkets that on their own, held some amount of power. But when brought together at that location, their power grew in ways you cannot imagine. I learned to harness the power of those objects for my own benefit. You see, the so-called 'scientific community' wasn't interested in hearing about what men like Watkins had to say. They dismissed it as just so much hokum." "So I endeavored to prove them all wrong. I spent over a half century collecting and researching. I sold many of the items I collected, but there were others I kept for myself. You wouldn't believe the mountain of information I gleaned. Eventually, I was able to understand nearly all of it, but there was one step I had to take before I could realize my ultimate goal," he said. "What was that?" I asked. "I had to let my physical body die," he said. "So I did. And voila, here I am." "You're mad," I said. He chuckled. "Perhaps," he said. "I've been called that and much worse, by experts. But consider this. Of the two of us, which one is holding a conversation with a machine?" "I see your point," I said. "Each of us has a purpose, Jack," he said. "Mine is to travel the space-time continuum and enjoy whatever is out there. Yours is to raise your two children to be responsible adults. And your wife is fulfilling her purpose even now as we speak." "What are you talking about?" I asked, my anger rising. "Oh come on, Jack, surely you know what I'm talking about," he said. "You mean selling your house?" He laughed out loud. "Selling it?" he asked. "Heavens no. She's not selling it. She preparing it." "For what?" I asked. "Quit talking in riddles, dammit!" "For our return," he said. "My wife was taken from me years ago by a cruel disease. In short, I was robbed of a lifetime of love and happiness. I intend to get that back." "How do you plan to do that?" I asked. "And what role does my wife play in your scheme?" "I'm sure you noticed the ring she was given," he said. "The pattern came from an ancient tribe of people who believed the dead could replace the souls of the living. The pattern on that ring makes it possible. Your wife's body will soon host my dear departed wife's soul for good. Haven't you noticed the changes in your wife recently?" "I have," I said. "That's because the human mind was not made to house two people," he said. "My wife's soul is slowly taking your wife's body and mind over. In the meantime, she's learning to adapt and use what your wife's body has to offer. And I must say, it's quite exhilarating. Your wife sure knows how to be a wild woman in bed, the way my Annabelle once was." "And what happens to my wife's soul?" I asked. "Eventually, it will replace Annabelle's in the great beyond," he said. "Before long, there'll be no need for the ring. When Annabelle gets strong enough, she'll push your Terri out completely." "You'll never get away with this," I said. He laughed. "Jack, Jack," he said condescendingly. "Please don't insult my intelligence. Look at the big picture here, will you? There's no way you can stop what has already started. And who would believe you? You'd be sent to a mental institution, and who would be left to care for your children. Hmm? Why not simply accept the inevitable and get on with your life? There are other women out there, you know. Many of them would love to be with someone like you." "This can't be real," I said quietly. "Oh, but it is real, Jack," he said. "It's as real as it gets. Look, I'd love to chat some more, but the record finished playing long ago and I really need to get back to what I was doing. I know this is a lot for you to embrace at one time. Terri has left a message for you on one of the records you bought this morning. The label is clearly marked. In the meantime, listen to this;� His voice went away and was replaced by moaning and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. I could hear a woman's voice in the background and knew it was Terri. "Oh God, yes," she moaned. "Fuck my pussy, Master. Keep fucking me. Cum inside my slutty cunt." I heard a man groan out loud and then there were no more sounds. I looked and saw the needle was in the final groove next to the label. How long had it been there, I wondered. Shocked, I lifted the needle and stopped the player. I pulled the wax record off the turntable and replaced it in its paper sleeve before putting it away. I looked through the other albums carefully and found one with an old RCA label marked, "To Jack From Terri." Strange, I thought. That wasn't there this morning. How could this possibly be? I thought about playing that record, but had another idea. I had a turntable at home that could play 78 RPM albums, so I decided I would take the record home and listen to it there, and if necessary, confront my wife. I looked at the time and realized my lunch break was nearly over. Could I really have been conversing with a dead man through an old phonograph that long? Stunned and shocked, I tossed the rest of my lunch away and went back to my desk. I called Terri's office, hoping to speak to her. "Is Terri Thornton available?" I asked the receptionist. "I'm sorry, Jack, but she's been out all day," the receptionist said. "I don't expect her back until sometime tomorrow. Can I leave a message?" "No, that's alright," I said. "I'll talk to her later." I ended the call, then pulled out the card and called Vikki. "Hello, Jack, I was expecting your call," she said. "Would you like to come over so we can talk?" "Yes," I said. "How did you know I'd be calling?" "Call it a woman's intuition," she said. "I suggest the sooner you get here the better." "Okay, I'm coming right over," I said, ending the call. I went to Alan's office. He looked at me and invited me inside. I walked in and closed the door behind me. "What's the matter, Jack?" he asked. "You don't look too well. Are you feeling alright?" "I need to take some time off," I said. "Family emergency." "Well, you've got comp time coming, and we don't have anything pressing, so go ahead. Take a few days and get it under control," he said. "If there's anything I can do, please let me know." "Thanks, Alan," I said. "I appreciate that." With that, I went back to my office, put the record from Terri in my briefcase and headed out. I decided to drive by the old Parker place to see if she was there. Sure enough, she was. I could see her car along with another parked in front of the house. I couldn't get in because the iron gate at the driveway was closed. I looked but didn't see any signs indicating the place was for sale. Odd, I thought. From there, I drove straight to Vikki's shop. I was desperate for answers and I hoped she could give me some. When I got there, I went inside and saw her behind the counter. She looked up as I walked inside. "Good afternoon, Jack," she said. "I assume you want some answers." "You assume right," I said. She nodded her head, went to the door and locked it, putting up a sign that red, "Closed." She turned back and started walking to the back of the shop, I assumed, where her office was located. She stopped and looked back at me. "Perhaps you should come with me," she said. I followed her into a small, crowded office with a desk and three chairs. One of the chairs sat in a corner and was covered with an afghan. She invited me to sit in the other chair as she took her place behind her desk. "I take it you listened to the record with the blank label," she said. I nodded my head. "You might say that," I said. "More to the point, I had a conversation with the man who recorded that disk. What can you tell me about your uncle?" "Well, for starters, he was actually my great-uncle; my grandfather's oldest brother," she said. "He held two degrees. One in archaeology and another in history. He got married and taught for a while, but after his wife died of meningitis, he left the college and began exploring the world, collecting artifacts from all over. About 35 years ago, he finally settled back into the old house and opened this place. He never remarried and always talked about how he and his beloved wife would one day be reunited." "Did he say how that might happen?" I asked. She shook her head. "No, but he did talk a lot about otherworldly things," she said. "Supernatural things." "Was he involved with the occult?" I asked. She shrugged her shoulders. "I can tell you that he was accused of that, more than once, and I can tell you he dabbled in things I never really cared to mess with," she said. I nodded my head in understanding. "Would you like to see a picture of his wife?" she asked. "Sure," I said. She turned to her computer and pulled up a digitized black and white photograph of a stunningly beautiful woman in her mid-twenties. I looked at the photo in shock. She looked like the spitting image of my Terri. Vikki saw the expression on my face. I pulled out my cell phone and showed her a recent picture of Terri. She looked at it, shocked. "What's your wife's maiden name?" she asked. "Hanson," I said. Vikki opened another file on her computer. "Uncle Jonas was really into genealogy," she said. "He originally had everything on paper, but put it into a computer a few years before he died." She pointed at one entry in a box. "This was his wife; Annabelle. Her maiden name was Simpson and according to this, she had a sister, Freida. We know Annabelle didn't have any children and Uncle Jonas never remarried. Let's follow Freida's line and see what we come up with." We both examined the screen, following the lines down through the generations. Fortunately, there wasn't much to go through, but Vikki found it and pointed to a box on the screen. I looked and saw it: Terri Ann Hanson. A box next to it was connected with a line and had my name inside. Below that were the names of our children. "There's your answer," she said. "He was waiting for someone who resembled Annabelle." "Do you have a picture of your brother on here?" I asked. "Sure," she said, going back to the pictures folder. She pulled one up and showed it to me. "How much does he resemble your uncle?" I asked. "Quite a bit," she said. "His name is Donald. They were quite close." "Is it possible that your uncle had him give her that ring?" I asked. "Anything's possible, I guess," she said. "Did your uncle keep track of the things he picked up over the years?" I asked her. "Yes," she said. "Mostly for keeping inventory. It's all here in the database. He spent years putting it together." "Can you search for 'ring' and 'soul' in that database?" I asked. "Yes I can," she said, pulling up what looked like a custom program built for a database. She entered the search terms and hit enter. There were a few items displayed and most were marked as "sold." The top item, however, caught my eye. It was the exact ring I saw on Terri's hand. Vikki clicked on the item description and we red the entry Jonas had input. "According to this, he discovered the ring at a dig in central Africa," Vikki said. "Local legend had it that an ancient tribe used a ring like this to commune with the dead. The wearer could supposedly channel the spirit of someone who passed away and even take on some of that person's personality traits. But there's a warning. If worn long enough, the departed spirit could displace the spirit of the person wearing the ring." "Oh my God," I said. "Did Jonas say anything else? Like, how to reverse the process?" "He has an entry here that gives a chant," she said. "According to Jonas, it has to be spoken by two females, and one of them has to be related to the person wearing the ring." Terri's mother lived in Florida, and was too far to get here in time. But there was one other person. It was a risk, but if we were ever to get Terri back, it had to be done. "Would you be willing to help me break that spell?" I asked. "Yes, I would," she said. "But we need two females. Where are you going to get the other?" "I'll have to get her out of school," I said. "Print out two copies of that chant if you would please. I have to call the school." "Okay," she said. As she did that, I called April's school and told them there was a family emergency and I needed to pull her out. They wanted to know the nature of the emergency, and I simply told them it had to do with her mother. The vice principal I spoke to reluctantly agreed and I said I would there shortly. By the time I ended the call, Vikki was finished

Amorous Goods: The Ring - Part 2 Why do her boobs look bigger? Based on a post by ShowTime8. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods. Back home, the five us of smoked a little weed, and drank either Bourbon, Scotch, or Tequila, depending on one's taste. I'm a Tequila girl, myself. Rod and Cole went for the Bourbon, Dan went for the Scotch, and Becca just kept smoking. The obvious began. Dan and Becca were on the couch, and they started making out a bit. It was just kissing, and Dan was feeling up Becca's boobs through her clothes, but it was enough for Rod to get started with me. I had decided tonight was the night Rod would get what he had been wanting, but I was a bit put off by Cole being there. I knew I wasn't put off enough by Cole being there, and that troubled me. I was having meta discomfort! Becca and Dan were in their own world, and I guessed they would soon move to my bedroom, and they did. I was now alone with Rod and Cole and Rod was kissing me, then Cole would turn my head and he would kiss me, and then Rod again, and then Cole again, and I was beginning to get dizzy. Each man had his own style, and as they kissed me, my clothes gradually left my body. Rod had rendered me naked on our previous date, but we didn't have sex, at least not in the Biblical sense. Cole had already seen me naked, along with everyone else at the Halloween party, but this was different because it was in an intimate setting. As if to underscore the intimacy, I quickly had four hands exploring every square inch of my body. Rod went for my boobs, and Cole went for my feet. It was pretty clear Cole had a foot fetish. I mean, the loving way he was caressing my feet, kissing my toes, complimenting me on my toenail polish, and just caressing them beautifully, over and over again, left no doubt at all about his fetish. I was proud of my toenail polish. I had a fly painted onto each of my big toes. Classy, right? That's when it happened. I realized this had happened to me before. When I had gone to that party at Purdue, seven years earlier, when I was only eighteen, two men had taken me to a bedroom and had begun to make out with me. I had been up for it, eager to experience sex, and the two of them had teamed up to get me naked, save for my panties, and then one man went for my boobs, while the other went for my feet, and all the while they were both kissing me, sometimes on the mouth, other times anywhere they wanted to kiss me. It had all happened before. The problem was I could not remember the faces nor the names of the two men. I didn't even remember having had sex with them, although it was of course obvious I did, since I became pregnant. The only thing I could remember was the word "Cod." Now I was living through the same experience. Was it possible it was a coincidence? I stood up, pushing them away. "Where were you, seven years ago?" I asked. "What?" they replied together. Oh my God, Cole and Rod? Could that be the mythical Cod? Was it these two men to whom I gave my virginity? Did they both enjoy me; that way; or was it just one of them? I shivered at the thought that my first (and only) time could have been a threesome! I was back on the floor. Cole was still going at it with my feet, but Rod apparently was a more conventional man. Rod removed my panties (I raised my hips to help him do it, even) and subsequently he was spreading my legs. Cole now (finally!) left my feet and moved to my mouth and my tits. Uh-oh, it was showtime. Rod was fingering me as if he were a brain surgeon, as it seemed to be his fingers had extraordinary delicacy and talent! I knew I was turned on; hell, everyone did. I could hear the sloshing sounds of my own lubrication. I hoped Rod was the kind of guy who would replace his fingers with something else, something a little bigger perhaps, at some point? I was on the pill. I was ready. I was more than ready! Hell, I was eager. Rod must have red my mind. It's also possible he had simultaneous, independent discovery of what turned out to be; quite simply; a wonderful idea. He adjusted his body, getting into position, and while I didn't actually lay eyes on his cock, it was no secret to me where it was, and where it was about to go! I felt as if this were my first time. In some sense, it was, since I had no memory of the sexual act the only other time, when I had become pregnant. My goodness, it felt wonderful. Rod entered me and I lost it. I tried to speak, but Colm's tongue was in my mouth. I was reduced to moaning. Rod's cock sliding into me, and then sliding back out, or almost back out, and then plunging back in, slowly increasing the speed, was sending ripples of some special kind of pleasure running through my body. I was bucking my pelvis up and down to match his thrusts. My enthusiasm was unbridled. I didn't fully comprehend it all at the time, but having one man give you a fuck from heaven, while another man was playing with your tits and kissing you, was; for me; perfection itself. It was only around two minutes after the fuck began when I climaxed, moaning into Colm's mouth, as his tongue was engaged with mine. I could feel Colm's hard cock against my outer thigh as Rod repeatedly plunged his cock into me. I knew I could never forget this! Rod had never asked where to cum, but I was glad when he chose to cum inside me, just like the mythical "Cod" must have done seven years earlier. When he was done, there was still Colm, as hard as a rock, looking at me expectantly. I figured he wanted to fuck me too, and as I was wondering if I could emotionally deal with that, my bracelet once again entered my head. I knew what to do. I moved around so that I held Colm's thick cock between my feet, and I caressed it with my toes. I had never done anything like this before, nor had I ever even thought about doing it, and yet, it seemed familiar, as if I had done it before. It's not the same as jerking off a guy, because your feet can't grab the cock, unless you're a monkey or something. It's just fondling and gently caressing, but with your toes, with my elegant nail polish, and not my fingers. Luckily, I had enjoyed a wonderful pedicure, just by chance, two days earlier, so my feet were all smooth and feminine. Funny, I had splurged for the pedicure on impulse, which is not like me. Could it have been due to my ring, too? Colm, to my surprise, squirted up into the air, just from the caresses of my toes and feet! After he squirted, Rod moved me around, and he fucked me a second time! This time he lasted a good, long time, maybe twenty minutes or more, and by the time he finished, I realized I had an audience of three naked people: Dan, Rebecca, and Colm. Rebecca was sitting on the couch in between Dan and Colm, and she had her right hand wrapped around Dan's cock, and her left hand wrapped around Colm's thick cock, and she was jerking them both, and at the same time! Whoa, Rebecca! You go, girl! I was super turned on that the three of them had watched us fuck. I was tempted to fuck Colm, too, but he seemed happy as it was, so I just relaxed and enjoyed the afterglow of Rod's amazing second fuck, which had driven me to two more orgasms. I think I dozed off a bit. "You know, sweet Michelle, you remind me of my dream girl," Rod said, when we were all awake and dressed, at least to some extent. I had my panties and a T-shirt on, no bra, and so too did Becca who had borrowed one of my T shirts, and the men were back in their Halloween costumes. "That's nice, I suppose. What happened to your dream girl? Maybe you should be fucking her instead of me?" I said, showing my annoyance at Rod's idiotic remark. Ignoring my remark made in anger, Rod continued, "It was seven years ago. Cole and I went to a Halloween party at Purdue. We were students at Butler University in Indianapolis, but Purdue had the famous Halloween party. Girls went to it from all over. Anyway, we got lucky, and met this super-hot freshman. She too was named Michelle. She had a pretty face, similar to yours, but a very different body. I was smitten." "How was her body different?" I asked. "This will sound crude, but she wasn't built like you, my lovely. She was flat chested, and had almost no ass. I didn't care, because she was totally my dream girl. It was love at first sight, maybe for both of us," Rod said. "Did she fuck like me?" I asked. "Funny you should ask. Yes, exactly! And she was a virgin, too, at the time," Rod said. "Her feet were like yours, too," Cole piped up. "Her adorable little toes curled up when Rod fucked her. I kissed her while Rod and her fucked, just as I did with you, and she didn't mind at all. She seemed up for anything with the two of us. We've never met another girl like her, ever again, until tonight." "Did you both fuck her?" I asked. "Well, first she played with my cock with her toes. That's when I developed my foot fetish, I guess. Maybe I had always had it, I don't know. But yes, after Rod fell asleep, I fucked her, too. Boy, could she fuck! She was my first, you know. Rod had been around the block, but Michelle was my first girl, ever," Cole said. "You never forget your first. I'll never forget my second, either," he added, looking me in the eyes, then letting his eyes wander down to my toes. "Some people forget their first," Becca said from the couch, and I shot her a death ray with my eyes. "What happened after that night? Did you continue to date her?" I asked. I had always wondered why I had never heard from the guys who fucked me at that Halloween party, seven years earlier. "Oh, I tried," Rod said. "Every weekend I'd head up to Purdue, looking for her. I'd party hop, hoping to find her at a party, and I'd walk around the campus looking for her. She never told us her last name, or anything, basically. I never found her. Cole looked, too." "I sure did. We spent the last two years of college looking for her, it seemed," Cole added. "Really?" I felt much better to hear that. "Listen, Michelle, you helped me get over my fixation on my dream girl from college. I'd love to keep dating you. May I?" Rod asked. "Yes," I said. "Can I come along on the date?" Cole asked. "No," Rod and I said together. Cole looked crestfallen, the poor guy. "Look, Colm, how about we meet up, the three of us, for brunch some Sunday, and I'll wear open toed sandals, and play footsie with you under the table? I mean if Rod is okay with it?" I offered. Colm's face brightened up considerably. We both looked at Rod. He nodded. Com exhaled, and he replied, "I'd love that." "Why didn't you tell Rod and Cole you were their dream girl from seven years ago? It's obvious you were," Becca asked me, when we met the next day for lunch. "I want Rod to like me for me, not because I'm the incarnation of some fantasy he's been having since forever," I said. "And I certainly never want to tell him he knocked me up that night. If it was him. It seems Cole fucked me, too." "So it sounds like you're taken with Rod," Becca said. "It seems so, at least for now. He's quite a strange guy, you know, and I'm not sure I like strange," I said. "Are you okay with me seducing Colm?" Rebecca asked. "Sure, it would relieve the pressure on me, to fuck him, too, which is not going to happen; but what happened to Dan?" I asked. "It turns out Dan is married. His wife was out of town. It's too bad," Becca said. "How was his cock?" I asked. "You saw it; it didn't live up to the promise of his big nose, alas. When it was inside me, however, it was perfection itself. I came three times during one of his fucks alone!" she said. "How many times did he fuck you?" I asked. "Four. Can you believe it?" "Four? You didn't have time for four fucks!" I exclaimed. "He drove me home, remember?" "Oh. Right," I said. "You going to keep seeing him, on the down low?" "No way, no how. He wants to see keep seeing me, but I don't fuck married men. Knowingly, that is," she said. "Right." "Colm, on the other hand;� "He's all yours," I said. "I promised him, though, to fondle his cock with my toes at brunch on Sunday. Say, why don't you join us? My toes will get him going, and then you can fuck him?" "Where, in the ladies' room of the brunch place?" Becca sarcastically asked. "Sure, why not?" I replied. "Michelle, your new jewelry is giving you one hell of a dirty mind!" Becca said. "You need to get a grip." "Are you here to return the jewelry?" Vikki nervously asked, when Becca and I showed up at her store. "No, I'm keeping it. Fabulous stuff," I said. Vikki smiled, and it seemed to be a smile of relief. Becca was wandering around the store, checking out some dining tables. "I have a question, Vikki," I began. Vikki encouraged me, so I told her the story; all of it. "Has your memory of your first time returned yet?" she asked. "No, and I still don't know why, but that's not the question," I said. Vikki waited patiently, and I continued. "The ring and the bracelet wanted Becca and me to go to a club, the week before Halloween, and so we did. There I met the very same Rod and Cole I've just told you about. My question is this: Could the ring and bracelet have somehow known about my Halloween deflowering seven years earlier, and arranged somehow; I have no idea how; for me to meet the two men again?" "No, of course not. The ring and bracelet couldn't possibly have those extraordinary powers, such as you ascribe to them," Vikki replied. "Okay, then," I said, relieved in a way. It would be scary if this had all been a set-up via the jewelry. Becca interrupted. "Is this Louis the thirteenth buffet enchanted? I'd like to have a man be compelled to fuck me, bent over a beautiful buffet like this one." The price, I had noted earlier, was $4,000. It's a good thing Becca is rich! Vikki and Becca discussed things for a while. I heard Vikki remind Becca that she didn't know which items were charmed, and which were not. "This other buffet, also Louis the thirteenth, however, should do the trick. It was returned for just that reason. So many men had fucked the woman who bought it, that she was going crazy. She claimed almost every man who entered her house fucked her, including her neighbor and his son, and both of them at the same time! Every man, that is, but her husband. I can let you have it for $100." "Sounds perfect. I'll take it," Becca said, as I just stared at her. Becca could really surprise me at times. "Colm," Becca said to me, as if that were an explanation, upon seeing my stare of incomprehension. Vikki smiled broadly. I made a mental note to keep Rod out of Becca's apartment. Vikki then turned to me. "No, the ring and bracelet could not have arranged for you to meet this guy Rod in a club. No, that would have to have been the doings of the necklace. You see, you need the added power of the gemstones for that kind of magic. I'm sure my Great Aunt Elizabeth would be thrilled to hear about your subsequent happiness. We have some ruby and jade encrusted earrings, too, if you're interested?" To be continued, in the series, Amorous Goods; a collaborative storyline for Literotica Amorous Goods: The Ring - Part 1 Why do her boobs look bigger? Based on a post by ShowTime8. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. "Are you sure this is the right way?" Rebecca asked me. "No, not really, Michelle. It's a small town around here somewhere, though," I said. "What's it called, at least? There's a signpost coming up," Rebecca said. "Middletown, what else? It's right, smack, dab in the middle of nowhere," I said. "You got that right," Rebecca replied. "Remind me again why we're doing this? And Michelle? Please don't say again, it came to you in a dream!" "I told you: I saw a little squib about an estate sale in Middletown. We haven't been to an estate sale in months, and I'll just bet there's some great antiques there. I know you love antiques. Hell, we both do! Also, it came to me in a dream," I said. Rebecca was looking at Google Maps on her phone. "Take your next left," she said. Then she glared at me. "Boy, this town is small! It's got like five stores total, and that includes the grocery store and the general store. This place has to be it," Rebecca said. "Yep. See the small sign in the corner of the window? It says Estate Sales." I replied. "The sign above the door, painted rather poorly I might add, says Amorous Goods. What the bleep does that mean?" Rebecca asked. "At least they spelled Amorous correctly." "Let's go inside and find out," I said, and I opened the door, causing a small bell to tinkle. A thirties something woman emerged from a back room, sweeping her dirty blonde, longish hair from out of her right eye, and she looked at us squarely. "Welcome to my store, Amorous Goods. I'm Vikki," she said. "I'm Michelle, and this is Rebecca. We thought the store was called Estate Sales R Us. Is this not an estate sales store?" I asked. I was confused, because what was inside the store looked exactly like the estate sales Rebecca and I have enjoyed haunting for the last couple of years, but the store name didn't fit. The furniture was so pretty, my mouth was watering. My apartment was still seriously under furnished. It's hard, when all that you want is antiques. "Oh, yes, definitely, but now I've devoted it to just one estate: that of my Great Aunt. She was a collector, you see, and what you see here is only around a tenth of her collection! Her estate will keep me occupied for years, I guess," Vikki said. "Why did you rename the store Amo

Amorous Goods: The Pendulum A demon-haunted pendulum guides a man into a life of vice. Based on a post by ShowTime8. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods. The dreams had been getting intense since Jack returned from Canada. He always awoke with flashes of imagery: torchlight against stone pillars, the reek of incense smoke, a pair of inhuman green eyes. Also, a word ringing in his ears: "Rozrael". Jack didn't immediately make the connection between his dreams and the obsidian pendulum he bought from a store in Toronto. It was the weirdest pawn shop he had ever seen: a red brick mansion that seemed curiously out of place within the shopping district. It was called Amorous Goods, which sounded like a sex shop. When he entered, it looked more like a shabby antiques store. Its items were a curious mix of the mundane and erotic. Lamps and pill-boxes sat beside bizarre pieces of erotic artwork; statues of nude women, early twentieth century paintings of orgies. Jack really wanted the antique erotic art, but he couldn't afford it. The owner didn't seem open to haggling. But he had to get a memento of the weirdest shop in Canada. So, he picked up this obsidian pendulum, with a metal chain. It was cheap and interesting. The pendulum looked like a pyramid with a hexagonal base. He paid for it, chucked it in his satchel and left. The owner looked like he couldn't wait to see the back of him. Days later, he was back in the UK, and the life from which he had fled for a week. He returned on Saturday night, and was expected back in the office on Monday. Jack wondered if the money spent on the flight should have gone into something that could have improved his career prospects. Or if he should have spent that time doing something to get out of that job. But he had been down that path too long, and it led him straight back to where he was now; in his thirties, doing data entry, and living with his parents. He needed that holiday. Sunday night, the dreams came again. The exotic, torch lit temple. And that word: "Rozrael". He woke to see the pendulum, previously in his satchel, now on his bedside table beside his alarm clock. "The fuck!" He jolted upwards. Did he put it there? He was tired last night, maybe he forgot. He looked over at his satchel, which was still in the corner of his bedroom where he dumped it yesterday. Sitting on the bed, he picked up the pendulum, examining it in his hands. "Take me with you." Jack dropped the pendulum. He heard a voice. A female voice. Was he dreaming? He wondered if this was a side-effect of jetlag. He put the pendulum back on the table, took out a notepad and biro and wrote down "Rozrael". Amorous Goods, Toronto. One year later. Dylan entered the shop floor holding a ledger open in front of him. Behind the counter was a young woman with red shoulder-length hair, peering at a laptop. "Vikki, look at this." "Umm hmm?" "You know anything about a pendulum that uncle sold?" "Ask Marshall,' she replied, 'he knows about this stuff." "This one might be tricky," said Dylan. "What do you mean?" "Uncle sold it to someone in England." "England?" asked Vikki. "Someone came all the way from England to shop here?" "Ever heard of tourism?" Vikki slammed the laptop shut. "Goddamn it," she exclaimed. "Does this mean we'll have to pay for a flight to fucking England to get this thing back?" "Hey, relax," said Dylan. "This thing was just a cheap trinket. Could be nothing." "I hope so." They turned to see a middle-aged man with a stack of papers under his arm. Marshall seemed unremarkable in khaki chinos and a button-down shirt. He was big-built, but had developed a paunch with age. Once, he would have been physically intimidating, but he still moved with youthful energy. "I heard my name," said Marshall. "You know anything about this pendulum in the ledger?" Dylan asked. "Oh, the pendulum of Rozrael? That item has quite a history behind it." "I knew it," exclaimed Vikki. "It's cursed, isn't it?" "You could say that," said Marshall. "It houses a powerful demon." "Okay, tell us about this demon," said Dylan. Plymouth, UK. Jack had a whole morning to kill before work. He wanted to see if this pendulum was an antique, if it was worth anything. He sat before his PC with a coffee. First, he wanted to google this word he kept hearing for the past two days. Google turned up results, but they were scarce. All he could find was the name of a demon from some grimoire called Liber Virtute. There was an online archive of historical grimoires, scanned from public and private libraries across the world. This demon seemed to be on the lower end of a demonic hierarchy, nothing else to be red besides a name and a seal. While other demons had descriptions of their office and their position in the hierarchy, this one didn't seem to be worthy of description. So, he was being contacted by a demon. Or he was losing his mind. There was only one way to find out. Jack signed up to web forums frequented by occultists, people who actually practiced this stuff. He made his intro post to several of them, and then posted his request for information, along with a quick photo of the pendulum. Then he packed his rucksack and left for work. "The pendulum was created in sixteenth century Venice," Marshall explained, "on commission by an occultist named Marcilio Cellini for a merchant called Filipo d'Este. Filipo married into the family who became the Hapsburgs that ruled England since the British Empire. Filipo did not simply want money. He wanted power. "To get that kind of power, one must be a commanding presence. Filipo was simply a merchant who rode on the tails of his ancestors." "So, the only way he could get that kind of power was through magic," Vikki interjected. "Precisely. He hired Marcilio to create a talisman for this purpose. Unfortunately, he did his job a little too well. This thing housed a demon of immense power, giving her a foothold in this world. She piggy-backed on Filipo's earthly desires to establish her own kingdom." "And this demon was Rozrael?" asked Dylan. "Correct. When the she unites with the owner, her power shines through them, making them charismatic and unstoppable. She eventually was stopped when the pendulum was passed on to his eldest son. He made too many enemies in business and politics. And he slept with the wives of powerful men. One of whom had him assassinated, ending his reign, and ending Rozrael's influence." Jack's day at work was the same underpaid monotony he tolerated for years. He got off the bus at the local depot, where he worked in data entry for a communications company. Every day, for seven hours, he sat at a desk and typed in postal addresses. It was an open plan office. Thousands of black and white address labels passed his screen every day. Nearby, a huge window opened out onto an industrial landscape, where he glanced at the sun as it set each evening. Jack's attempts at leaving this job in the past had been met with a wall of silence: job applications, the occasional "informal chat" over the phone, a half-assed Linked In profile. All of which no one cared about. Every day Jack started his shift with this thought, which he kept to himself. Until he opened his rucksack, and found the pendulum at the top of the pile. He dropped the rucksack. Did he put it in there without thinking? He must have put it in there by accident. Somehow. Jack took the pendulum out, looking at it. He noticed the cluster of desks on the other side of the office where the managers carried out administrative tasks at their own computers. Among them was Sadie, striding between desks with papers in her hand, obviously busy. Sadie would have been plain and unnoticeable. However, she knew what she was doing with her hair, clothes and make-up, making the most of what she had. She had long, dark voluminous hair that framed mousy features, although her lips were full and luscious. She would flash a beautiful smile at him as he passed her in the corridors. Sadie was slim, but curvy in the right places, and she dressed in a way that accentuated her figure. Jack never forgot the Christmas Eve when the managers wore casual clothes. Sadie's tight jeans made a lasting impression on him. When she bent over the desk in front of him, his erection got so big, he had to spend his break sat at his desk. Jack absent-mindedly fingered the pendulum, thinking about that ass as Sadie walked towards his desk, a mound of papers clutched against her chest. He let the pendulum drop between his fingers, watching it swing back and forth, always in the direction of Sadie walking past. Jack looked at it, then put it back on his desk. "So, the pendulum," Vikki asked. "What's so sinister about it?" "It houses Rozrael and is used to communicate with the user," Marshall explained. "It answers simple yes or no questions. It points him in the direction of business opportunities. Sometimes, it will point to sexual opportunities. Filipo used it to judge which ladies in the Venetian courts would be open to sleeping with him." "Are you saying," asked Dylan, "that this pendulum dowses for pussy?" "Correct," Marshall smiled. "But to Rozrael, sex is a means to an end. Any domain she establishes won't be in the interests of humanity. It may be a portal between whatever hellish dimension she comes from into our world." During quiet moments, Jack would pick up the pendulum from his desk and let it swing. He noticed a pattern in its movements, always swinging in the direction of certain women. Perhaps he was just horny. Perhaps it was his imagination. He had not had sex in years. The pendulum swung in the direction of Donna, sat nearby. A Goth back in the day, she still wore band T-shirts in her thirties. Dark hair, pale skin, and impressive tits that Jack struggled not to stare at. Her big tits jutted through a black T-shirt with some obscure metal band print. Donna never showed him much attention. They never spoke. Jack never knew what to say to her. The pendulum was interested in her though. It swung in her direction, not wavering until Sadie walked past. Then it would follow Sadie, until her fine ass had sauntered around the corner. Then it would go back towards Donna, until Jack put it back on the desk, before someone noticed. His shift ended. He packed his rucksack, got up and caught the bus home. An hour later, sat at his PC desk, he logged on to see the responses to his queries that morning. Responses were few, but revealing. It turned out that the Liber Virtute had a small but dedicated following of experienced occultists, who had been experimenting with it for years. And they were happy to share their advice. "What else do we need to know?" asked Dylan. "She appears to the magician in a way that is sexually enticing. She appears as a woman, with certain features exaggerated." "Certain features?" asked Vikki. "Tits and ass, usually" Marshall replied. "Thanks for clarifying." "When she fully unites with the operator, she guides them, and her sexual power shines through them into all they meet." "How do we stop her?" asked Vikki. "You probably won't have to. In fact, I would classify this task low priority." "Low priority?" exclaimed Dylan. "A demon is trying to take over the world, and this is low priority?" "Our customer is highly unlikely to accomplish anything with the pendulum alone. He needs the grimoire containing Marcilio's notes. It tells us how to wake that demon back to life, and it tells us how to put her back down again. And it's in our vaults." "So, we're safe?" asked Dylan. "For now," responded Marshall. "We should get it back at some point, but let's focus on the real dangerous ones, the ones bought locally. Save this one for a vacation abroad." Vikki frowned and pulled out her laptop. "What did you say his name is?" Jack sat on his cheap office chair in semi-darkness. His bedroom was lit by a single beeswax candle on top of his cupboard. Illuminated by this candle was a piece of paper, on which Jack had scrawled the seal of Rozrael. In his hand was the pendulum, hanging between his fingers as he gazed at the seal. His online friends had given him a simple ritual to contact Rozrael, who was largely unknown and lacking established contact protocols. Jack was glad he didn't need the complicated, near-impossible tools that more established entities in the Liber Virtute required. Jack gazed at the seal and chanted the name over and over. He lost of count of how long this took. His eyelids drooped, blurring his view of the seal. The pendulum clattered to the fiber glass surface of the cupboard, jolting him upright. The room seemed to be lit by a golden glow. Jack swung around slowly in his office chair, and saw a light behind him. The other side of his bedroom opened out onto a bizarre scene. Where his bedroom ended was now a vast room, lit by flaming torches ensconced on huge stone pillars. A tall figure emerged from between the pillars, into the torchlight. A woman, slightly taller than Jack. She was clad in black latex, buckled and strapped across the front. She resembled a stereotypical dominatrix, her boots resounding across the stone floor. She appeared human, although unearthly. She gazed at him with bright green eyes, in a face that was inhumanly beautiful. Her should-length hair was blonde, shining with a fiery aura. Her fingers were a little too long to be human, slender with claw-like nails. She seemed too perfect, like a photoshopped pornstar come to life. Her tits were huge, straining to break free from the buckled latex. And yet she had the body of an athlete, slim, with long legs. "Rozrael?" Jack said. "Of course." She strode into his bedroom, standing a meter away. Jack stood, but remained silent. "What do you want?" she spoke in an echoing voice. "Are you the one who calls me in my dreams?" he asked. "Yes." Jack kept glancing at her tits, the cleavage behind the straps. "Why?" "I think we can work to each other's benefit. I can make you powerful." "How?" "When we unite, nobody will be able to resist you. Women will desire you. Men will fear you. This way, your status on Earth will rise." "What do you want from me?" She reached forward with a long, slender hand and brushed it down his chest, down to his crotch. Her touch was cool, electric. He let out a sharp intake of breath as she gently reached for his balls over his jeans, holding them. "Give of yourself to me," she said. "And I will give of myself to you." With her other hand, she unbuckled her top, revealing her magnificent cleavage. Huge tits burst out almost to the nipple, as her top opened down to her midriff, casting a shadow over her toned stomach. Jack was transfixed, as she ran her fingers up underneath his T-shirt, back towards his chest. His cock was hardening already, straining beneath his jeans. He needed no instruction. "It's a deal." Jack unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans down, revealing a semi-erection in his black boxer shorts. Still with a hand on his chest, she pulled his boxers down with the other hand, releasing his cock and gazing at it with a smile, as she cradled his exposed balls with her other cold hand. He went fully erect immediately. She pushed him towards the bed behind him. "Sit." Jack lay back on his bed, his erect cock between him and the busty demoness. Her other hand reached down to the shaft of his cock, and she bent forward, swallowing his cock. She cradled his balls as she ran her mouth up and down his shaft, engulfing it right down to the base. He had never received a blowjob this deep before. His entire groin felt charged with a cold, fiery energy. Jack expected to shoot his load in seconds. Strangely, this blowjob was prolonged, like he wasn't allowed to cum, not just yet. He lay back as this energy engulfed his body from his groin. When he exploded in her mouth, he convulsed a few times. It felt like more than just semen leaving his body. The energy left too, and he felt empty. Jack lay back and watched her stand up from his body, releasing his spent cock from her mouth, to his thigh. She knelt between his parted legs and unbuckled her latex top further, pulling her top apart to allow her huge tits to fall out in the torchlight. Her tits were round and firm; large pink nipples with areolas that seemed stretched out by the size of her tits. Her nipples were thick and erect. The desire in him was strong, but he was tired and weak. She took his hands, pressing them to her tits. He squeezed and fondled them, feeling their weight, their smoothness. His thumbs went over her hard nipples, and they seemed oddly moist. She reached behind his head with one hand, pulling his head towards her tit. His mouth clamped eagerly over her tit, his tongue flicking against her hard nipple. It tasted faintly salty. He sucked harder, and more fluid trickled into his mouth, down his throat. He felt it build in his body. More fluid came out, and he felt his lust return. Eventually, he didn't need her to hold him. He sucked eagerly on her tit until she wrapped her arms around his head and pulled his face down between them. For a second it seemed as though he breathed in her entire body into his, before everything went dark. Jack woke up on his bed in darkness, his pants around his ankles, his stomach and chest wet with semen. The temple scene was gone. He got up from the bed, pulled his pants up and walked to the bathroom. Wincing when he turned on the light, he washed his hands. He splashed water on his face and looked in the mirror, running his hands over his forehead, his cheekbones, his jaw, like he had never seen them properly before. He liked what he saw. And he felt powerful. The next day, Jack walked into the office, as usual. But this time, things seemed different. People looked up from their desks as he walked in. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. He didn't know. He looked at the world around him with new eyes, and he saw a world ripe for the taking. Jack sat at his desk, got out his iPod and water bottle, and then the pendulum. When no one looked, he let it hang between his fingers. It swung towards the stairwell nearby. He watched the glass doors to see who it might be pointing towards. Sadie came up the stairwell towards the doors, and t

Amorous Goods: The Flute After dinner conversation piece. Based on a post by ShowTime8. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods. The Flute Jeff had recently joined our small team of international shipbrokers. He was new in town and single. I knew he would soon sort out his social life, but he would be lacking some home comforts in the short term, so I invited him to our house for dinner one Friday after work. My wife, Hazel, is a wonderful woman and an excellent cook. After a superb dinner she offered to tidy up while Jeff and I went through to our lounge for a wee dram. I got out the Glenfarclas and poured us each a generous measure. "I see you have a flute of some sort on top of your mantelpiece" Jeff observed. "Do you play it at all?" "Not really," I replied. "I use it from time to time, but I don't actually play it. It's not really for playing in the normal sense of making music. To tell you the truth, it's a magical Japanese shakuhachi flute. I got it years ago from an old guy who ran a curiosity shop full of antiques and bric-a-brac. I think the shop was called Amorous Goods." Jeff grinned and settled back on the Chesterfield sofa where he was relaxing. "I'm sure there's an interesting story behind it?" he enquired. "There sure is," I replied. "Shakuhachi flutes are traditionally made from bamboo or cane, but this one is said to be made from the wood of one of the six ancient zelkova trees of old Roppongi. It's a district of Tokyo that's famous for its nightlife nowadays. Of those six old trees, three were cut down around a hundred years ago and the others were destroyed in the Second World War. The story goes that the six trees were invested with the spirits of six witches and the wood from those trees has magical powers." "And you believe that?" "I was skeptical at first, but the shop owner arranged a demonstration of the flute's magic. The old guy told me if I blew just one note on that flute, the next woman who came into the shop would give me a blow job. I had to pay a deposit of five hundred dollars then he let me use the flute." I paused and took a sip of the whisky, cherishing my memories. "From the look on your face, presumably it worked," said Jeff. "Less than a minute after I blew a note on the flute an attractive young woman came into the shop. She saw me holding the flute and without saying a word she dropped to her knees in front of me, unzipped my trousers and fished out my cock. As far as I'm concerned, any blow job is a good blow job, but I can honestly say that was one of the best blow jobs I have ever had. She licked and sucked me until I came like an express train. She swallowed it all, tucked me back in, zipped me up, thanked me profusely and left the shop." "So did you buy the flute?" he asked. "You bet I did." I said with a smile. "The five hundred dollar deposit was non-refundable on condition the old guy could prove the magic flute worked, but I still had to pay another five hundred bucks on top of that." "In other words, you got a blow job and a small wooden flute for a thousand bucks?" "Yes indeed and it's been well worth it." "You're kidding!" Jeff exclaimed skeptically. "I bet it's never worked since you tried it out in that shop." "Jeff, I can honestly say it's worked every single time since then," I said, "That's why it has a place of honor on our mantelpiece. I wouldn't say this to just anyone, but I can let you try it for yourself." "You want me to borrow your flute?" he asked. "No," I replied. "The flute stays here. You can have a shot at it right now, but you must agree not to breathe a word to anyone about it." "Okay," he said, standing up and taking the flute from its resting place on the mantelpiece. "It would be rude of me to turn down your invitation." Glancing at me almost suspiciously, as if he was expecting some sort of practical joke, he sat back down on the sofa and blew a squeaky note on the instrument. A few moments later Hazel came through the door from the hallway, looked at me enquiringly and then saw Jeff holding the flute. Without hesitation she went over to the sofa, got down on her knees in front of Jeff, unzipped his trousers and got his cock out. She leaned over his crotch and started to lick and suck his cock enthusiastically. He leaned backwards over the arm of the sofa in an effort to give her easier access, grinned happily, raised his eyebrows at me and mouthed the word "Wow!" I took the opportunity to recharge our whisky glasses while Hazel polished Jeff's knob, bringing him to a gasping finish. Afterwards she tucked his cock back in his trousers and zipped them up, got to her feet, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, thanked Jeff and smiled at me as she headed back to the kitchen. "Are you okay with that?" Jeff asked quietly. "No problem as far as I'm concerned," I replied. "Hazel absolutely loves giving blowjobs. Very occasionally a special guest gets to enjoy a happy ending after dinner. If Hazel likes them enough I let them toot the flute. It's just a good excuse for some adult fun." Jeff grinned from ear to ear. "Well, as far as I'm concerned that was truly a magical experience, but the real magic is not in the flute. It's in the art of the blowjob!" "Exactly," I replied. "The flute on the mantelpiece is my way of acknowledging my wife's special talent. No doubt she will join us soon enough for a drink or two before you leave. Just be aware though, like many magicians, Hazel prefers not to discuss her magic trick after a show." To be continued, in the series, Amorous Goods; a collaborative storyline for Literotica Amorous Goods: The Magic Pen Errant penmanship disrupts a marriage. Based on a post by ShowTime8. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Nikki Feingold peered over her menu, its calfskin folder soft and supple in her hands, the offerings transcribed in an elegant Garamond font. "Dessert?" Her dark eyebrows arched. Leonard Reminger leaned back, feeling the tightness of his belt against his waist. "I'm not sure Nikki, the temptation is huge, and we don't get to do this very often, but I am quite frankly stuffed. Filled to the gunwales. Popping at the seams." "In a good way," he added, seeing the hint of disappointment in her face. "Often? This is only our first time here. But yes," her expression recovering, "I know what you mean." Alo's atmosphere was exactly what Leonard had hoped it would be, one of the finest restaurants in Toronto. Expensive, far above their normal night out, candlelight not so low that you couldn't read the menu, but soft enough to set a mood. And quiet, a lovely quiet hum of the other's diners' voices that didn't intrude, it was possible to have a whispered conversation with your paramour and still hear each other. Paramour, Leonard rolled that word around in his head. Yes, that was precisely the right term. And on this, their fourth wedding anniversary, that characterization was still accurate, redolent, meaningful. Nikki's eyes went back to her menu. "Why don't we split something, maybe on the lighter side? The baked apple slices in cognac with clotted cream perhaps?" suggested Leonard. Nikki smiled back. Leonard had hit the perfect note. "Yes, that sounds wonderful." She was pleased he would meet her halfway, even though she knew she might end up with three-quarters of the dessert herself. One of Leonard's many appealing aspects was his willingness to compromise, even indulge. She gave a little shiver, she had been so lucky to have met him back at university, that first time that she saw him at Angela's party, so well dressed compared to the other students at the gathering, understated and not flashy. With those hazel eyes that seemed to stare into you, the shoulders squared, no academic question that came up that night to cause the slightest fluster, his answers thoughtful, thorough, in fact, she had noted even then, unlawyerly. That was it, he was the quietest, least rapacious of all the other law students she had met at university, most of them courtesy of her then roommate, Angela, a law student herself, who had introduced her to Leonard that fateful night. But now, of course, during the day those hazel eyes scanned corporate contracts, torts case briefs, and other impossibly mundane, although lucrative, documents. She was glad her own work involved teaching Renaissance architecture at the city's second university, York, and not in a corporate office. When they were done, Leonard beckoned their waiter. "If I may, I have a large favor to ask." He held the menu in his hands, Nikki couldn't help looking at his long elegant fingers, ones capable of so many duties, intimate or purely functional. The young waiter, perhaps early twenties, bowed his head respectfully, and Nikki noted for the hundredth time how easily Leonard wielded his charm, all the more effectively for being completely authentic. "Tonight is our wedding anniversary. The dinner was outstanding, many thanks. Might we be able to take tonight's menu home? I'd be pleased to reimburse you for your consideration. But it would be most special to us." He gazed at Nikki, who smiled shyly. The waiter bowed. "Please allow me to check, I will be right back." "Leonard, such a sweet thought!" Nikki beamed. "It never would have occurred to me to ask. October fourth, four years ago! How symmetrical, how Jungian!" The waiter returned with the bill. "Please accept the menu with our compliments and wishes for many more years of marriage. We are honored you chose us for your destination tonight." "Shall we walk home?" asked Leonard, when they had made their way to the street. "I know we were going to Lyft it, but it's probably only a thirty or forty minute stroll. And I'd love to settle the food a little, before sleep." Nikki smiled up at him. "Yes, of course. I'd love to have you settled a bit, for later," giving Leonard a slightly wanton look. "We cannot have an anniversary without some other celebrating." Her taffy colored hair was done up in a chignon, and Leonard thought her pale rose-colored evening dress, tight about her waist, could have charmed the venom out of a cobra. Her soft inviting neck, uncovered by her hair, could still produce a frisson of excitement that ran up and down his spine, even now, six years after first meeting her. That the dimple on her left cheek appeared so easily when she smiled was a distinct bonus. "Excellent, then." They chose a slightly more roundabout route than they might have picked otherwise, the October evening air possessed of that last bit of summer warmth before Toronto's often abrupt shift to much colder weather. On a leafy street paralleling one of the main streets of the city, residential with businesses only at the corners, Nikki spotted an unusual dwelling. "Len, look at that! What a stately place, in the middle of the block." This was an older part of town, many of the buildings of Victorian era with expansive and well-tended yards, nothing built later than perhaps 1920. But the object of Nikki's attention would have stood out regardless. Unlike the other houses on the block, all two stories in height, with lawns sloping down to the street and manicured shrubbery, this place loomed. Dark gray, an almost black exterior, with a slate mansard roof, it sat forbiddingly in a tangle of trees, which shaded every corner. A spiked fence surrounded the front section, and as they crossed the street and approached, Leonard pointed out a sign near the granite steps up to it from the street. "Most Curious Goods," he red. "Hours 12-8 except Sundays." What an odd formulation thought Nikki, wrinkling her nose. She looked in the windows, struck by the intriguing light that came from within. "Len, let's take a look." Indeed the front door was cast wide, the light spilling from the threshold inviting one in from the street. "Good evening," intoned a voice as they passed through the door into a foyer. Leonard looked about, startled, and was greeted by the slightest bow from a tall man in a dark suit. "Please have a look around. We are open until the top of the hour." The man's face was guileless and open, in that middle-of-the-country way that contrasted with bustling Montreal or cosmopolitan Vancouver. His movements were careful but informal. "Welcome to Most Curious Goods, I'm Dylan," he said by way of introduction, "please let me know if you have any questions." Leonard nodded and they passed from room to room, each one seemingly arranged as a theme. The first, to their right as they entered, could have been the drawing room from an English townhouse in the early part of the Twentieth century. The bricked mantle shelf held knickknacks of every description, Montgomery mugs, silver candlesticks, wooden birds and small animals, a taxidermy owl, sitting proudly at one edge. Nikki admired a small secretary's desk, dark wood with fine inlay, little cubby holes for envelopes, documents. Another room seemed to be Oriental, in the old British sense of the East, with carvings of snakes, intricate carpets, exotic animal heads attached to the wall, fangs and antlers on display. They passed from room to room, finding one towards the back of the house of remarkable interest. Leonard examined a balance scale, perhaps a foot wide, with small brass weights on each balance plate. They were metric units, and the label attached to the piece indicated it was early nineteenth century, from Nuremberg. "Look at his!" Nikki pointed to a narrow grandfather's clock, the hands of polished brass, its woodwork striking in both intricacy and color. Leonard was drawn to a large table, the sort found in old libraries, with a smooth dark wooden surface. A place was set for a writer to work, a typewriter, blotter, and a fountain pen of exotic polished wood. Leonard held the pen in his hand, its weight pleasing, with a substantial easy-to-grasp thickness to it. Removing the top revealed an elegant golden nib, and the name of the manufacturer, Faustographia, Leipzig, engraved in a small, tidy script. "Mid-nineteenth century," said the male voice that had greeted them on entering. Leonard started, so engrossed with the pen he had been unaware Dylan had followed them into the room. "We are unsure of its original provenance, but it was last owned by the Earl of Northumberland. Would you like to try it out?" Leonard was tempted but shook his head. "We're just looking at the moment, we noticed your place quite by accident while passing." Leonard was not sure why he declined the offer, as the urge to write with the pen, while he held it in his hand, had been strong. "But we still would like to poke around a few minutes more, before home beckons." Dylan inclined his head. "Of course." They admired some paintings, a fin de si�cle lamp, and reluctantly left for home. Nikki's eyes were shining. "What a striking shop! I would never have expected to find it there." Their last steps up to their door were weary, welcome. Leonard arranged the menu on the corner table in their dining room that held their silver. He could still conjure up the taste of the apple-cognac slices. "Thanks for a wonderful meal, Leonard, that was sweet of you." Nikki sidled up alongside him. "My thanks to you. I could not possibly be as happy in my life without you at my side." Their kiss was short, anticipatory. After final bathroom ablutions, Leonard found Nikki spread out in bed, covers tucked to the side. Her legs were wide, she had taken the time to array her hair in a fan-shape on the pillows. Early on Leonard had said how ravishing she looked that way, her long hair loose, unruly and wanton. Leonard smiled. "Just the way you like it," Nikki whispered. "Hurry get your clothes off and bring me your erection." She wiggled her hips. Leonard complied, and knelt to her side. His cock had grown half stiff in anticipation while he removed shirt, trousers and drawers, and after dangling his cock for a few minutes in Nikki's soft limpid mouth, he was fully hard. He knelt at her notch, already damp, and fingered and licked her arousal to an almost unsustainable condition. He had learned early on this was always the best way to proceed before entering her. Their copulation was swift, explosive, and exhausting. Leonard lay on top of her, thinking there was no contentment greater than when he could feel his cock softening inside his Nikki. They kissed, and she rubbed his back and bum, as he felt the fluids surrounding his cock, within her, warm and comforting. While the next day meant work for both of them, Nikki arranged to leave her office early after lunch and was back at Most Curious Goods the next afternoon. "We were in yesterday," she explained breathlessly to Dylan, "my husband and I. I've come for the pen we admired." "Yes, I remember." Nikki could not quite decipher the clerk's expression, perhaps amused, maybe conspiratorial, but more likely just pleased at a potentially successful transaction. "You must take this ink as well," insisted Dylan. "Comes along with the pen." He held a silver polished ink bottle with a handsome cap. "You know of course the nib is gold alloy, yet must only have non-acidic ink. This is a special formulation." Dylan demonstrated the proper way to fill the pen, spoke in general terms of its care and use. "Thank you," she said, as she handed over her bank card. Although none of the items in the shop had indication of monetary value, she had known the actual price of the pen would be dear, and she had winced at the final amount. But worth it, she couldn't help thinking. Dylan bowed as she left. "May your enjoyment be complete." Su

Amorous Goods: The Decision Maker Young man at a crossroads gets help. Based on a post by ShowTime8. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods. Decisions. Tom liked to go for long walks when he was making a difficult decision. Right now he had been walking for two hours with no end in sight. His girlfriend, Dorothy, had practically given him an ultimatum. He needed to propose soon or she was going to move on. While it was true that they had been dating for nearly a year, Tom was not convinced that she was a good fit. Dorothy was without a doubt a responsible driven woman, who would go far in the world. She was an executive assistant for one of the partners in the accounting firm where he worked. She always dressed sharp and was very attractive. She was 5'7" and 24 years old, whereas Tom was 5'10" and 26. They met at work and started dating. Not exclusively at first, but for the last six months they had been monogamous. She wouldn't agree to sex until he agreed to stop seeing anyone else, which wasn't an unreasonable request. The sex was good, but not the best he'd ever had. Dorothy not only seemed reserved, she was distant during sex. Perhaps she'd had better sex before and was feeling the same disconnect he was. More likely, she just didn't like sex and was going through the motions to satisfy him. Of course, he just couldn't know. He wondered if he was willing to spend the rest of his life with a mediocre sex life. On the other hand, she was driven and organized. She kept his apartment clean and organized, while doing the same for her own. She spent the night at his apartment most days of the week, while he stayed at hers during the weekends. She managed to give him some good advice on how to get ahead at the company, and was helping him with the process of establishing his own financial consulting firm. He had no doubt that with her as his wife he would become a very successful business owner. But deep down Tom missed his old girlfriend, Samantha. Sammi was a real party girl who loved to fuck. There was nothing reserved or distant about Sammi in the sack. The two had met while he was in college. She had been a psychology major, and it was true what they said. Most psychology majors were trying to figure out what was wrong with them. Sammi had self-esteem issues, commitment issues, trust issues just to start. She had more issues than The New York Times. Tom dated her for three years, but Sammi could never be completely faithful. She never cheated on him, because she never promised him to be monogamous. Every time he wanted to be her only one, she told him upfront that it wasn't going to happen. She gave him the option to stay on her terms, or leave. He left a few times, but would inevitably end up back with her. She liked him and he liked her, but she just kept allowing herself to be seduced by smooth operators. She sought validation through sex, and Tom couldn't provide enough. He tried to get her to settle for threesomes with the two of them and some other partner, but she would eventually break whatever rules he tried to enforce. If Tom could have been satisfied with a relationship minus the monogamy, he would have been happy with Sammi, but that was a deal breaker. Sammi was a fun girlfriend, but would not be a wife for him. On the other hand, he could have Dorothy with all the monogamy he wanted, but none of the passion. His biggest concern was that he might marry Dorothy and cheat on her with Sammi. Could he marry Dorothy and risk turning into the sort of person who might cheat? Would he be able to settle for a lifetime of missionary position with a starfish after having sex in twenty different positions over the course of a week with Sammi? And so Tom kept walking. He had started from Dorothy's apartment, ostensibly to clear his head with the intention of arriving at his own apartment. He left the familiar confines of the financial district long ago, and now he was in the eclectic neighbor of used book stores and antique shops. He was lost in his thoughts, when he pulled up short realizing he had no idea where he was. He pulled up his cellular phone to look at a map, only to find that his phone was out of power. He looked around him, hoping to find a familiar landmark or welcoming store front. Across the street was a store named Amorous Goods. The seemed more welcoming the South Asian Herb market he was walking past. He looked in the window at some of the objects in the window on display. It reminded him of some of the sex shops that he and Sammi has visited, though this shop has a more refined air to it. He walked in the door and a bell sounded somewhere. Tom wasn't really shopping as much as he was looking for a shop keeper who could give him directions back to civilization, but he felt an obligation to look over the display merchandise. A voice from somewhere in back of the store called out "Just a minute." Tom looked around at the various objects on the shelves. He recognized the Ben Wa balls, though these seemed to have a malicious shine to them. He saw a strap-on dildo that was emitting a low rumbling hum that he was afraid to touch. On another shelf he saw a small clear box that held what looked like a Magic 8-Ball. The box was labeled as The Decision Maker. Just like one of those classic children's toys, it had a little window that displayed a small message inside. The current message said "Definitely, Yes". Tom began to reach for it, when a woman came down the aisle. "Hello, I'm Vikki. Can I help you find something?" "Yes. Thank you. I'm looking for directions. I'm a little lost. I took myself for a walk and now I need to get back to Crenshaw Street." "Oh. That's over a mile away. Do you want me to call a cab for you?" Vikki asked. "No. I'm happy to walk, just tell me which direction to head and I'll be fine." Tom assured her. "Well," Vikki began, "you'll want to turn right out of the store and go three blocks. That will take you to Jefferson Avenue. Turn left and in about a mile and a half, you should be in familiar territory." "Right. Jefferson eventually runs parallel to Crenshaw. Okay that will get me where I want to go." Tom thanked her. "Are you sure you don't want a ride? It's still a long way. I can get a cab here quick." "No, the walk helps me think. By the way, what can you tell me about this Decision Maker here? How much is it?" Vikki startled for a moment and looked where he had pointed. "Oh. I had forgotten about that piece. I suppose it would be harmless to let that one go." She thought for a moment. "Forty dollars." Tom thought. That was more than he really wanted to pay. But she had been generous with the directions and maybe it would help him with his decision regarding Dorothy. Sometimes it's just useful having someone to help make the important decisions for you. "Deal!" he said. He paid the money and walked out of the store with his Decision Maker and headed for home. He arrived safely at his apartment about half an hour later, but he was no closer to making a decision. When Tom arrived home he immediately plugged in his phone. It took a few minutes to come alive, but once it did it buzzed with message alerts from missed phone calls and text messages. Tom anticipated these were from Dorothy and decided he was not ready to talk to her yet. He sat down at his kitchen table and stared at his Decision Maker. He shook it as if it were a Magic 8-Ball and asked aloud, "Should I marry Dorothy?" Immediately he felt a deep lassitude as if he had fallen asleep and he started dreaming. Tom was sitting at a kitchen table, but it did not look like his kitchen. This was a much nicer, much larger kitchen with a large professional grade refrigerator and stove. There were marble top counters and a large central island. The afternoon sun was shining in through huge vaulted windows looking out over a large backyard. He could see an outdoor hot tub and a pool house in his backyard. That's right. That was his backyard. This was his house. Tom lived here with his wife Dorothy and daughter Delilah. It was a large six bedroom house with a three car garage and finished basement. They purchased this house eight years ago. Tom's company, Insight Investing, had taken off and the family was quite wealthy. Dorothy had informed him that they needed a bigger house because Delilah was going to be born soon. They bought a house big enough for a large family that never materialized. Tom looked up to see his wife standing over him. She had an impatient look on her face that he knew too well. She had always been a take charge demanding personality, but it had served their marriage well so he never complained. She had good business contacts from working as an administrative assistant that she had steered his way over the years. While she had been only working part time since Delilah was born, she had been instrumental in Insight Investment being as successful as it was. Make no mistake, Tom had put in the long hours, working fourteen hour days and most weekends, but he depended on his wife to raise their daughter and manage the household. Tom looked down at the table in front of him and saw the Dissolution of Marriage forms laid out on the table. His loving wife of eleven years had just asked him for a divorce. Tom was shocked and dismayed. He knew there had been cracks in their marriage for a long time, but he had always assumed that Dorothy was happy. He had spent their entire marriage trying to keep her satisfied. She had always been a cold fish in the bedroom, but he never pushed. They hadn't had sex ever since Delilah was born, because Tom never wanted to force the issue. Dorothy said, "You know we haven't been happy in a long time. Just sign it and we can get this over easily." Tom felt like he had been punched in the gut. "Can't we try counseling? Can't we try to make it work?" He tried to read the divorce papers in front of him. "Why didn't you talk to me about this?" Dorothy signed. "I'm done. I don't want to discuss it. I just want out. This is as good a settlement as you will get. You've got unsupervised visitation with Delilah every other weekend. I already found you a two bedroom apartment close to your work." Tom goggled. "What?? You already found an apartment for me? How long have you been planning this?" "Actually, I've been thinking about this for about a year. Things haven't been getting better. Delilah and I will stay in the house. The alimony is very affordable and will allow you enough money to live off of." Tom growled. "Are you kidding me! You've been thinking about this for a year and you didn't talk to me about it? You ambushed me you fucking bitch! There's no way I'm signing this without having my own lawyer looking it over." "You dumbshit! You don't have a lawyer. Our family lawyer is Jon's friend. We've made sure that any decent lawyer in a fifty mile radius has a conflict of interest. If you try to fight this, then you will find out just how nasty I can be. I've spent the last year documenting a history of abuse by you. Fight this and I'll destroy your reputation." "I've never hit you. I haven't even touched you in years. Where do you get off accusing me of that!" Tom shouted. "So what? I've been giving myself bruises and showing them to friends. I've been telling enough people at work and at the gym about it, that I'll be able prove it in court. If you fight this you will lose. Jon is sending four guys from work to help move your stuff out. They will be here in ten minutes, so sign the agreement and make it easy. If you don't sign it, I'll have a restraining order filed before the day is over." Jon was Dorothy's boss. She had been his administrative assistant for as long as I had known her. Clearly he had known about this for a long time. "How long has Jon been involved? Why did you talk to him before you talked to me?" "Jon has been involved since the beginning. I mean, he's been a big part of our lives for years. He's the reason your company has been so successful. If you make this easy, your company will stay successful. If you fight, you'll lose most of your biggest clients. He wants you to be successful so you can continue to support Delilah and me. Just go along with this and everything will be fine." "Wait? Are you saying what I think you're saying? Have you been screwing him? Is he Delilah's father?" Dorothy squirmed. "You are Delilah's father. You're the only father she's ever known. Don't talk like that. I'm just tired of living like this. We don't love each other. We need to move on. You've got your company and your daughter. Just let me go." "Let you go! Look at this alimony you're asking for. Four thousand dollars per week! That's well over half my income and is doesn't include the house payments. How much is Jon contributing to his child's upkeep." "Delilah is your child, not his. He has been steering business your way to make sure she is well provided for, but that's all he can do. He has his own family to take care of. Don't ruin it for him or us." She sighed. "Just sign the papers. Let's make this easy." There was a loud knock on the door which immediately opened. Four large burly men let themselves into my home. "Ma'am? How can we help?" Tom looked at these thugs who were going to enforce these terms. No matter what he did, he was going to be out on the street in a hour. These guys were going to clear everything out that belonged to him. They might move it into this new apartment or they might just dump it in the gutter. If he fought, he end up with some broken ribs and bruises, but no doubt he would lose. He looked at his wife, soon to be ex-wife, with tears in his eyes. He picked up the pen and started reading the agreement, before he realized it didn't matter. He was completely screwed. He steeled himself to sign the contract. He took a breath. Just then his cell phone rang, and he startled awake. Tom looked at the Decision Maker. In its window showed one word, "No". His phone continued to ring. It was Dorothy. As a reflex he picked it up and answered. Dorothy started into him, "Where the hell have you been, Tom? I've been calling for hours ever since you left. We were talking and then you just walked out saying you had to think. Don't I get a say in what you do? Aren't you going to talk to me about it?" Tom was still reeling from his vision. He was so unhinged he blurted out, "Are you sleeping with Jon?" Dorothy spluttered on the other end of the line. "What?? Why would you ask that? Who told you that? I mean, who gave you the idea that anything was going on? It's completely ridiculous. Where do you get off accusing me of that? Is this you trying to blame me for your indecision. Listen, you better get your head screwed on right if you think we're going to get married. Hell, I bet you wish you were still screwing Sammi and you're trying to distract me with this accusation. Now you get your ass back here so we can continue this conversation. Do you hear me?" Tom hung up the phone. He had heard enough. The vision was starting to fade, but it was clear that he did not want to marry Dorothy. He was thankful that this toy had saved him from a potentially disastrous marriage. He sat there thinking about it a little longer, and finally he shook the Decision Maker and asked, "Should I marry Sammi?" Again his vision fogged over and he drifted off as if to sleep. Tom was sitting on the couch in his living room as the morning light was streaming in. He was tired. Tom had been unable to sleep and now he was staring blankly out his front window. He had been crying earlier, but now he had no tears left. Sammi had not come home last night from her night out with the girls. She had sent no text message telling him that she was okay. He felt like a complete afterthought. Tom knew he had worked hard to convince Sammi to get married. She loved Tom, but she loved to party more. She would go out on the town, but she would always return to him. He tried to be a good husband, but that didn't seem to be enough for her. He had bought this house with his own money. He had started his own financial advising company with some of the guys from work. He was a good provider, and he kept hoping that she would finally get tired of the hangovers and the loud crowds. He remembered their wedding day. She had promised to be true to him, and she had meant it. Of course, what she meant by being true wasn't what he had in mind. She still danced with other men. She still flirted and kissed, but no sex. That was what she promised. Well, 'no intercourse' she admitted later. She didn't consider oral sex to be cheating. And of course, she might give a fellow a hand job, but that was only fair since she wouldn't fuck him. They fought all the time about that. She told him it was who she was. She couldn't give it up no matter how hard she tried. He kept waiting for her to grow up, but she never stopped going out. Of course, when they fought the make-up sex was phenomenal. He would take out all his frustrations on her. He would pull her hair and call her names. She just egged him on, telling him to punish her, to hurt her. He had to admit, the sex afterwards was the hottest sex he'd ever had, but he was getting tired of it. He wanted to settle down and start having kids. He felt like Sammi was just another child he was destined to spend his life taking care of. He needed to figure out how to get her to leave the party life behind. He was patient, but he wasn't going to wait forever. He kept pressuring her to grow up, but she only pushed back harder. She was treating him like a strict father she had to rebel against. And he was getting tired of it. He heard a car pull up to the house followed by Sammi staggering to the front door. It was unlocked, but she still struggled to get the door open. Her hair was a mess. She was wearing a tight black dress that wasn't fitting right, as if she had gotten dressed in a hurry. Her eyes were bloodshot, either from alcohol or lack of sleep. It took her a moment to realize Tom was sitting there watching her, but when she did her face broke into a huge smile. "Hey, baby!" "Where have you been? It's much too late to be getting in from a night out. The sun's already up. I was worried about you." Sammi sashayed over to wear Tom was sitting. She knelt down in front of him and started rubbing her hands along his thighs. "I have a surprise for you." She looked seductively into his eyes. "You've been interested in starting a family. I decided, sure, what the hell. So I went off birth control a month ago. I decided last night it was time to start working on making a baby." "What?" This was a surprise. Tom had not expected this. Although, it seemed odd that her idea of settling down and having kids started with an all-night binge. "Don't we need to talk about this first? I mean, how is this going to affect our marriage. Are you sure you want to settle down like this?" Sammi's hands had slid up and were massaging Tom's cock through his pajamas. He quickly hardened, but he was still distracted by what she was telling him. Kids? Really? He had discussed it with her before, but she had prett

Amorous Goods: Season 1     Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods. Open the door, and take a step inside: Amorous Goods: Gaudus Invited a friend to safeguard me enjoying sexual artifact. Based on a post by ShowTime8. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. This 18 part series is devoted to many of the stories of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods. Funny how much the preparation centered on my friend, Marie, and choosing a date when her husband was out of town at the same time my husband was traveling. Then the excuse to have her sleep over was not forced. Falling in October, I was incited to try the third gaudus, the last adventure, the forbidden. "The box is ornate," Marie said. "Very unusual. Where did you get this?" She hesitated but I encouraged her to trace the delicately carved design with her fingers. I perceived a small shudder and a momentary loss of focus before she fixated on the illustration, very similar to my reaction the first time I touched the motif and then all sorts of symbols and figures within the pattern seemed obvious. Hearts and circles with lines symbolizing classical gods of love, serpent-like marks fitting tribal archetypes of fertility, an arc pierced by an arrow from the occult, and more of the phallus and sexual feats. "I found this odd little shop in the city," I answered her question. "You'd probably call it the shady part of town. It was mixed in with smoke shops and sex boutiques and other stores selling incense and tarot cards and touristy kind of voodoo paraphernalia. I don't know why this shop seemed more authentic. As I entered, the owner led me to a back room where I could examine this box. She was like a gypsy, telling me small things about where I lived and my marriage that she probably guessed from my clothes or my words or my facial expressions to the things she was saying. She told me of her vision, of how I would visit and this box was meant for me, and it all became very convincing that somehow by fate I came to unite with this artifact. "And how does all this work?" Marie wanted to know. "Why do you light these candles around your room and place these crimson towels beside of your bed?" "I make it a ritual. Maybe it's my own doing. I wipe them lightly with the towels when I'm done and then I won't erode the natural oils with soap. The experiences guide me, like each time I do the gaudus I learn something new. I let my feelings guide me. For this occasion, for this third gaudus, I bought this special robe, this black satin robe. And I ask you to watch over me, to make sure nothing bad happens. Because I'm nervous. I'm anxious but more, I'm afraid." "What do you call them?" Marie wanted to know. "Each one is a gaudus, or a gaudu, or all three are gaudi?" "I don't know, the woman said 'Experience the gaudus' and I called each one a gaudus." I opened the lid and showed Marie the three wooden objects laying in their molded berths of velvet. Three small knobs like shoe horns or the neck of a bow that could fit in your hand and nest with your palm and the crook of your thumb. The shape and etchings evoked millennia of women seeking gratification. I touched the chestnut colored horn in the middle, and then the dark mahogany horn on the left. But not the light birch horn on the right. "They don't look like much," Marie commented, but her tone was friendly and light. "I thought that, too" I agreed. "But after you encounter one and you appreciate the way it grows on you, you won't look at them the same. The first one I experienced was this caramel colored piece in the middle. I was seduced by a bronzed Italian stud on the Riviera. It's crazy, but I think it happened." Marie looked surprised and also concerned for me. I continued, "This dark piece on the left took me to a wild adventure in the jungle, where I was forced to submit and yet I woke with rejuvenation. If you watch you will see, I know. But if you can, I fear what this third journey will bring, and I want you to safeguard no physical harm comes to me." "What makes you worried?" Marie asked. "Why is it different?" "There's a symbol on the bottom of it," I explained. I lifted the piece and showed her the end. "It's faint but that looks like a Christian cross, and roughly hewn. I feel a strange mixture of emotions when I touch it. And the color is pale, like death." "Let me touch it," Marie suggested. "It will be safer if I go first. You'll see how quickly these pieces transform. I'm certain of that. There are many aspects still unclear, as to what took place and what was imagination, and I questioned if I was losing my mind. But you will see the transformation. Watch." I rolled the pale wood in my fingertips and rubbed my thumbs up the smooth shaft of the bow. Instantly it was larger in my hands. I rubbed it across my chin and smelled the ruddy mix of blood and dirt and sweat. I brushed my cheek flush against the tip. I kissed the soft surface and let the round head nestle on the inside of my lips. My tongue tasted the underside. I made it wet with my saliva yet savored its own moisture. Heavy and masculine and aggressive. I was offended at first but became accustomed to it. Like the first time when that boy, Jared, kissed me. I wasn't expecting it and I could smell his breath and he must have eaten something like meat. The smell put me off but then I accepted it and learned it like coffee or liquor, and I could anticipate the depth of the kinship like knowledge itself. My thumbs and fingers worked the shaft, firm and full and slippery from my saliva. The slickness helped the shaft swell. I created friction through a circle of thumb and forefinger. It swelled in in my mouth as I pushed down to receive its length. I felt the ridge of the helmet bump my lips on each pass. I tried to extend my tongue to simultaneously tease the meaty underside and the tender skin along the middle ridge. A bright light pierced the darkness. The light shone in my eye and made me squint. I could barely discern the pale tip of the cock before my face as I held it in my hands. Above, the dark silhouette of shoulders and hood eclipsed the beam of light but I saw no facial features. "Do not hesitate," he commanded me. "You will accept the sacrament." I tried to catch my breath. I opened my mouth and extended my tongue to receive. He pushed into my mouth roughly, forcing to the back of my throat. It made me gag. At the same time I felt my vagina clench and send a tingle through my pelvis. His hands on the back of my head held me down. I pressed my hands against his thighs to hold him back but he moved my hands one at a time to his testicles. "Feel the weight," he commanded me. They were large and hairy as they hung in my fingers. I looked forward to the time I could make them retract and yield their juice. "You will stand and be naked before us," he said sternly. I stood as he raised my hands. He untied the front of my robe and pushed the collar back off my shoulders. I pulled the robe off the rest of the way and let it fall at my feet. Though the air was warm, I felt a chill on my nipples. "You have sinned," he yelled sternly. "No," I screamed. "I have done nothing wrong. "Do not tell us the lame tale that you are a victim! We are not ignorant of your ways and the methods you young girls use to tease men. You led him to defile your body!" "No, I never asked for that," I said. "He forced himself on me." "Do not lie to us! We can make you tell the truth." "I said 'No' yet he forced himself." "Did he force himself in your mouth or in your womb?" The man's voice shook within my head. "First in my mouth," I answered. "We were kissing in the back of the car as any teenagers do. That is not a sin. He grabbed my head and forced me into his lap. I had not even seen in the darkness that he unzipped himself and his cock was hard. He shoved my mouth onto his cock. He smelled bad. I don't think he had showered in days. And his friends in the front were laughing as he fucked my head." "You enjoyed it!" the man demanded. "I did not want it," I protested. "When it happened, you took him in your mouth and you enjoyed it." I did not deny this. "And you led him to take your maidenhood?" "No, he stole my virginity. I never consented. He pushed me back on the seat and ripped my panties off. His friends leered at me over the front seat and one took my panties as a souvenir. He was too strong for me and I could not stop him. He pushed his cock inside of me and it was all I could do to withstand the sting as he took my virginity." "Do not lie to us!" he commanded again. "You did not close your legs or try to stop him. You did not scratch him or punch with those little fists of yours. You wished the others would have fucked you, too, that night." "They did not," I asserted. "You wished it," he insisted. "You wished as he thrust his manhood in your vagina and squeezed his hot sperm in your body that the others would follow." "I could not stop my body," I argued. "I was young but my body was disposed to mate. When he took control of my vagina and he stimulated my genitals then my mind could no longer stop it." "Look how wet you are," he demanded, shoving his fingers in my cunt. He pushed two fingers inside, sliding deeper in and out. Then he put those fingers to my mouth and made me taste my stimulation. "The devil has possessed your womb and makes you lead young men to sin." "They force their will upon me," I protested. "You will atone for your transgression." My hands were lifted roughly above my head and back, forcing me to fall back on the bed. I expected to feel the soft cushion of my mattress but it was hard and firm, a wooden plank to angle my body elevated and vulnerable. My hands were tied to the upper corners and I could not defend myself. The strain on the sinews of my shoulders sent a rush of adrenaline through my body. Standing between my legs, he opened his robe completely and revealed his erect cock at the edge of my vagina. It was not large or attractive, but he rubbed the tip on my lips and made them swell and open to want him. He pushed his cock slowly inside of me and the strength of his cock felt good against the tight cincture of my cunt. As he cleared the rim of my entrance and lubed my vagina, I felt wetness spread through my pelvis. I relaxed to take him and ease him deep within. The silhouette of his hooded frame hovered over me before the dancing flame of a torch ensconced on the wall. "You consort with the devil," the man breathed heavily in my face. His pelvis bumped my clitoris as he thrust completely inside. The electricity running up my spine prevented me from thought or speech. "He has chosen you and he will possess you." The man withdrew and left a hole of want and loss inside of me. I whimpered for him not to stop. My hands were taken and turned to force my body over, my nipples rubbing against the hard grain of the wood. I tried to press up on my elbows so my swollen nipples would not be scraped. The man pushed my legs apart sternly. "You wish to yield your anus," he commented. "No, I've never done that," I denied him. "You wish it," he corrected me. "You desire to take my cock and lose your anal virginity." He pressed his cock at the entrance of my anus. It was wet and firm and it set all of the tender nerves in my pelvis on fire. As he forced the head of his cock in the tight cincture of my ass I was powerless to relax but I could enjoy the friction of his strength within the trying rim of my muscles. My ass was struggling to stay closed and at the same time desiring him to push further. When he more fully entered my ass and fucked it as he had fucked my cunt, I appreciated the tight swish of his gnarly stick firing impulses all around my pelvis. Slick and tingling while tugging the sphincter. I wanted him to cum in my ass. "You will prepare him," the man commanded. I did not understand him. I was lost to his cock. "You will prepare him," the man repeated. I opened my eyes and saw the small dark knob before my face. It was the mahogany gaudus now brushing my cheek. I smelled its musk. The deep, meaty odor of animals rutting in the jungle. I opened my mouth and sucked on the head and then the shaft of this black cock. It was instantly swollen, much more quickly than I had experienced before. The foreskin protecting the helmet retracted and I could run my tongue on the edgy rim of the head. It tasted earthy and scorched like burnt wood or incense. I licked more eagerly to understand the complexity. The black cock was full now and impaled in my throat. I relaxed my esophagus to deep throat the shaft. Bigger than I remembered but pushed slowly without coercion to allow me to swallow. When I choked for air he withdrew. He pressed his testicles to my face and I kissed them. I snaked my tongue under his balls and teased the meaty bulge between his scrotum and anus. He lifted one leg before my face to let me lick this area and taste the nasty, dirty ooze of his sweat and filth. I longed to lick his testicles and suck his cock at the same time. The man stopped fucking my ass but held still within me. He rolled me over and now I lay back against his chest with his cock fully up my butt. His legs wrapped around my ankles and held my legs spread open. He grabbed my wrists and forced my arms behind me to the small of my back, clutched in one of his hands, arching my frame and tilting my hips. "You will receive his wonder," the man commanded in my ear. "You will take the darkness and feel the utter glory of his power. The black cock pushed into my vagina. I had never felt two at once. The pressure within was unbearable as the man in my ass pressed my muscle wall against the black cock. The black man sensed the limits of my body and slid slowly. Contortions flashed across my face. My cunt melted to a river flowing on his shaft. When he was completely inside, and the crux of his groin bumped against my clit, then he increased the pace and hit all the ribs of my vagina in cycles of fire. His body was so hairy over me. I saw the hair shooting from his head before the fire of the torch. There may have been smoke from the torch or incense burning that made it hard for me to focus. I could smell the obscure and foreign aroma of incense mixed with his sweat as he grunted close to my face. I thought for a moment those might be horns or was I imagining shapes from his spiky hair in silhouette? His hands were rough like paws on my shoulders to hold me down as he thrust inside and bumped my cervix. Fortunately, the man behind laid still within my ass to let the black man dictate the progression, but he teased my nipples with his free hand. His fingers were normal and soft enough to titillate me without harm. "That's so beautiful," the woman whispered in my ear. Her voice surprised me. "Is that your disciple?" the man behind asked me gruffly. I tried to see her face to understand who. Her hair was darker, straighter and a little longer than I remember Marie's. Her eyebrows were full and thick, but sharp above her eyes. Her lips were red with a tint of lipstick between rose and blood. And she wore my robe, or she had found a satin robe almost identical to the one I had been wearing. By the way her nipples pressed the fabric, I perceived she was not wearing anything else. "Did you bring a disciple to assist your breeding?" the man behind asked further. The woman only smiled at me and brushed my cheek gently. The lightness of her nails barely touching my skin contrasted how vigorously the black man thrust in my cunt. She leaned down and kissed me with those red lips. It was wrong and I tried to turn away. She held my chin and edged her tongue between my lips and tried to fuck my mouth with it. The woman withdrew. She traced the caramel gaudus down the bridge of my nose and poked my cheek with it. Then she leaned back slightly with a smirk and inhaled the tip of the gaudus. I tried to focus, to understand if it was Marie, but she seemed more like a relative, perhaps Marie's younger cousin. She slobbered on the gaudus and then turned it sideways before my eyes, sliding her tongue under the length to tease me. As it grew, the woman sucked it within the O of her lips. She let it pop out with a distinctive smack and touched it lightly to my lips. I tasted the rich Tuscan sun that I knew so well but mixed now with the woman's slaver. I tried not to react so it would not encourage her but I knew the waves of vigor from the dark cock that owned my cunt overwhelmed me and sent ripples of submission across my face. The woman smiled and formed her lips to an O again, yet overly demonstrative to make me watch. She sucked the cock deeply. I saw her tongue poke out to tease the tender bulge, as I had done, and letting her spit pool to a drop running down to his balls. He stepped close to my head, which blocked the dim light of the flame, and I could only see shadows of his testicles near my forehead and the massive curve of his thigh and the intricate curve of her lips sliding on his cock. It seemed that he wanted me to watch the cock I loved being sucked by another. The man in my ass started to hump slightly. Just a subtle counter movement to the large, black cock stuffing my vagina like a piston. My eyes rolled back as I lost control. The caramel cock pushed at my lips now. He was standing over me and I saw nothing. I tilted my neck back to take the length of his cock directly down my throat. I enjoyed the familiarity of his shape. But I also tasted the unusual saltiness of the woman. Or it could have been a mix of the woman and his pre-cum. I was swimming in the simultaneous fucking of my cunt, my ass and my mouth. Fingers playing lightly over my nipples. It completed the sensation on all parts of my body. Delicate fingers pinching and rolling my nipples, and barely brushing over the tops like wind. Small, graceful touches. Not his fingers but hers. The proctor stated in my ear, "You like her touch." I mumbled on the cock, "No, I did not seek sex with another woman." "Yes, confess it!" he countermanded me. "You have fantasized about a woman touching you." My Italian lover withdrew his cock, now dangling over my face. The woman leaned forward and slurped at the tip, as though trying to taste my sex with him as much as to pleasure th

Dave's Journey Back To Nature: Part 5The Energetic Naturists, in a lockdown.Based on posts by&nbsp;Big galoot, in 6 parts. Listen to&nbsp;the Podcast&nbsp;at&nbsp;Steamy Stories.The naturist photoshoot was much more fun than I anticipated. It gave license to delightful ‘touchiness’. As we were catching our breaths and chatting James was looking through his shots, "I think I have some great ones. What next Muriel?" He was definitely getting into his stride."I think David should chase me but I'm old and will be easy to catch, I think he should chase me with Annie on his back."I wasn't expecting that and nor was Annie but she was the first to respond, "sounds like fun."I knelt down and Annie climbed onto my back, her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, as I stood she held on tightly, pressing herself into me, her short legs spreading further until I could feel her mound rubbing against my lower back, and her boobs squished into me. She wiggled up and down a bit, rubbing herself against me."Comfortable?" I asked"Oh yes." She answered a little huskily."Before we start running I think you should get some still shots, come here and stand behind Annie." Muriel said.James did this and then Muriel told him to kneel down. I heard him gasp and then he started clicking away."You dirty bitch! I'm completely exposed, he can see everything from down there." Annie said laughing.She obviously wasn't too worried because she arched her back and stuck her ass out, exposing even more to the camera, all the time whispering in my ear, "I'm so wet, I think I'm dripping.""I think they're the most incredible shots I've taken.""Stick with me kid, with my dirty mind and your camera skills we'll make a great double act."As we were laughing at this Annie was still whispering in my ear and rubbing herself off against me."Oh James, you have to get a close up of this, I've never seen Dave's tallywhacker looking so big, what do you think Muriel?" Suzi asked, smirking and making it obvious she knew what was going on.Muriel played right along, saying, "definitely the biggest it's ever been." As she encircled it with her thumb and forefinger, making sure James got shots emphasizing the fact they didn't meet. They were right, I was ready to burst, but work to do first.Muriel ran slowly with James behind her, stopping and bending as if out of breath, insisting he took pictures of her exposed holes, "they're for my private collection."We could have caught her easily, but Annie whispered for me to go slow as she was enjoying it. She was beginning to feel heavy, but as her breathing changed, and she started to wiggle faster I forgot about the weight. Her mouth was next to my ear and a cascade of oh and ah; followed by "fuck, fuck, fuck I'm cumming."She was letting everyone within five hundred yards know she'd orgasmed, and she nearly deafened me.As she settled I went to put her down but Muriel had other ideas, "you haven't caught me yet." So off we went again, Annie no longer whispering as she said, "take it slowly, my nips are sensitive and my clit’s on fire."To Annie’s relief, Muriel let us catch her easily but insisted on mounting from the front for our hug. She managed to clamber up and sat astride me, teasing my upright pole with her twat, allowing James to click away merrily as she did so. I stood a bit with both women wrapping their bodies around me, their tits and cunts grinding in. This should have been erotic for me, but I was concentrating on bracing my body against the weight. It was only when Muriel and Annie started kissing over my shoulder and then both nibbling at my ear that my legs turned to jelly.Muriel was in her element "I think we should all have some more wine before our next shots or maybe some water, better still wine and water." While the rest of us recovered on the grass, Suzi and Jenna went to get the refreshments. "Bring the baby oil back with you." Muriel shouted after them."How are the photos coming?" I asked James"Incredible, I can't believe some of the shot's I've got, very hot and erotic.""Was it weird taking those sort of pictures of your sister.""Yes and no, as I got into it I forgot she was my sister, it was only after she came that I felt a bit embarrassed.""Not ones for the family photo album then?""I wouldn't put it past her."When they returned with the refreshments I made a beeline for Suzi, feeling a wee bit guilty.<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: norm

Dave's Journey Back To Nature: Part 3Jill, Mike, and Penny Contrive a publicity plan.Based on posts by&nbsp;Big galoot, in 6 parts. Listen to&nbsp;the Podcast&nbsp;at&nbsp;Steamy Stories.On Thursday, Geri phoned. She spoke with Muriel for a while before being handed back to me,"How you doing?" Geri asked."Good. A strangely odd week, very hard for poor Muriel; but we're getting there.""How's the resort looking, have you got many bookings.""I think there's a couple for this weekend and Suzi and I are going to sort out the chalets tomorrow for them. A few more next weekend, after that I don't know, why?"" Remember I said I'd ask around, see if anyone had any ideas.""Yes.""Well Freddy Spencer, one of my old chums from the Arundel Naturist Resort, is now the editor of H &amp; E magazine."Geri sounded really excited but I didn't know what she was talking about."H &amp; E magazine is like the naturist bible, it's run for and by naturists.""Ok and?" I pressed."Well, like me, Freddy has some fond memories of coming down there with his parents. They were lovely, innocent, naked days,""That's great, but how does that help us now?""Well Freddy would like to come and do an article about the place, promote it as a fun, welcoming place to be. He says he'll give us a four page spread, and if we can make it look fun, with a good mixture of young and old, then it should do wonders for the resort’s image and bookings.""Sounds great but how are we going to do it, there's very few people booked in for the next few weeks.""They normally use professional, perfect models for their shoots, but I think we can make it more real, more natural.""How so.""I've volunteered myself, Mary, you and Suzi to be models, I'm was also thinking about Muriel, but with Jim passing away I don't know."Fine for me, Suzi or Geri, But I could never see Mary agreeing. "What doe's Mary think of it?""I haven't told her yet."I found myself shaking my head and laughing. "Good luck with that."I told Muriel about it, and she was over the moon! Her spirits immediately lifted, chattering away about where we could take the photos and such.There was a knock at the door and I said I'd get it. Mike Squires and his wife, Penny, were standing there along with two other neighbors; come to show their condolences.When the visitors entered the living room, Muriel seemed pleased as she stood to greet them."So good of you all, to come over."To make ourselves useful; Suzi and I asked if anyone wanted tea,"Maybe something a bit stronger?" Muriel said.Everyone had a drink and they were having a good old natter, telling stories about Jim and 'the good old days'.We just sat and enjoyed listening, keeping everyone's glasses topped up. The conversation eventually got around to Muriel's plans for the future and for the holiday resort."Well I hope to keep it running, although my bookings are way down on previous years. But these two lovely young people are going to help, so we might manage.""Yes; I met Dave and Suzi the other day and the place is already looking better." Mike said, smiling at Suzi.<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-cap

Dave's Journey Back To Nature: Part 1A young man discovers nudism.Based on posts by&nbsp;Big galoot, in 6 parts. Listen to&nbsp;the Podcast&nbsp;at&nbsp;Steamy Stories.My name is Dave and I found out I'm a naturist.I was a shy and introverted teenager. By the time I was eighteen, the most I had done sexually was to masturbate over the lingerie models in my mums home shopping catalogue.Around this time I also discovered that I loved being naked. This was a good few years ago, before the internet was everywhere; more innocent times maybe. I didn't know anything about naturism, or anything like that, I just knew I loved being naked. It felt so right. Everything was fine for a while; I would spend time in my room naked, with the door locked of course. Then I met my first girlfriend, and even though we got on well, I found I couldn't tell her about wanting to be naked. I even started cancelling dates so I could stay home in the nude. We would eventually drift apart.I started getting bolder with my nudism. I'd go from my bedroom to the bathroom with no clothes on; that sort of thing. I eventually built up the courage to walk around the house naked when I knew no one was at home. That summer I ventured outside for the first time.It was amazing, the warm sun on my naked body. I started refusing to go on trips with the rest of the family, or meet up with friends, so I could stay at home, alone, naked. My parents just thought I was a surly teenager.On one such occasion, everyone had gone off for the day. By 11 o'clock I was laid out in the back garden, basking in the hot sun, idly playing with my cock. I heard a little cough and a female voice say "umm, excuse me, sorry for interrupting" I sat bolt upright, my hands automatically covering my genitals, I looked around and saw Muriel, a friend of my mother's, standing there; an amused look on her face."Sorry for startling you David, I was just dropping off this parcel for your mum, when I saw no one was in I thought I'd bring it around the back and put in in the garden shed."I was too embarrassed to say anything.&nbsp;Muriel continued, "I've known you since you were a little boy, my how you've grown."&nbsp;I think I went even redder, if that was possible,She continued; "I envy you; lying there enjoying the sun on your body. If I had more time, I think I'd strip off and join you. But I must keep going. Enjoy the rest of your day, and tell your mum I'll phone her later."And with that, she was gone. Now, as I said earlier, these were more innocent days, before the big fetish for MILFS. Although Muriel was a very attractive woman, and would definitely have qualified. I just didn't think of her in that way. What I did take from what she'd said, was that maybe being naked wasn't that strange, and maybe I wasn't some sort of weirdo. I was also aware that a bit of me had enjoyed getting caught. My cock hidden behind my hands, growing, rather than shrinking.In September, I went to college and had to find somewhere to live. I eventually moved into a house with three other students; John, Mary, and Suzi. They were a good bunch and we got along well, but I really missed my freedom to wander around nude.One evening we were all very drunk and Suzi suggested we play truth or dare. After lots of moans and groans, we eventually got the game started. It came to my turn and I elected to tell a truth. I was quite pissed and blurted out about wanting to be naked all the time. There was silence for a while until Mary, who I think was even more drunk than me, started laughing and said she thought it was great; and that she thought she was a lesbian; and that we should all be free to be what we want. Mary's confession certainly trumped mine and thankfully took up the rest of our drunken conversations.I was first up the next morning, my head ready to explode. I was making coffee when Mary walked into the kitchen, we both managed painful good mornings, and then Mary said, "Did I really tell everyone last night that I was a lesbian?""Yes you did, and I told you all I was a nudist."When we stopped laughing Mary said, "Right; get them off." Pulling at my tee shirt."Piss off," I said, laughing.Mary stopped "I meant what I think I said last night. It’s great you've told us, and this is your house and you should be free to be naked, if you want.""Thanks Mary, I'm not sure if the other's agree with you, though.""Well fuck them! They'll just have to get used to it.""You’re still drunk." I dismissed her remarks."Probably, but l do mean it."I sat with my coffee, thinking about what Mary had said. I wasn't too concerned about what John thought. He spent most of his time at his girlfriend’s anyway.Suzi was another matter. Both Mary and Suzi were good looking, outgoing girls who were fun to be with. But truth be told, I had a bit of a crush on Suzi. All of us in the house had flirted a bit and made some saucy comments, as any group of young people might. But Suzi had flirted a bit more with me, enough to make me think that the attraction might be mutual. But I was young and inexperienced, and not too certain of myself, and had now confessed my, what some might see as, perversions.Pushing Confessions into Conversions.That evening, I was in the house on my own, sat watching television. I was sorely tempted to strip off, but I dared not. Mary came in and said, "What are you up too?"<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-a