Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Ken Charles' March Treat --"Lucia's Affair"

This story is not intended for those individuals under the age of eighteen, or for those individuals who are unusually sensitive to adult or sexually oriented materials.  For the rest of you, enjoy. 

Lucia’s Affair

     “Damn, where is that damn school bus,” Lucia muttered to herself. “Do they want all the babies to catch a cold?” Despite her complaints, the bus was just coming into view, and right on time. But it was Thursday, and she was unusually impatient.

     Lucia grabbed her daughter’s tiny backpack. “C’mon, Maria! The bus is coming! Give Mommy a hug and kiss.” Maria, like a little duckling in her yellow boots, rain slicker and cap, splashed over to her mother, and tried without success to lift her face for a kiss without getting it wet.

     “If it’s still raining tomorrow, Mommy, can I wear your big raincoat?”

     Lucia smiled, and gave her daughter a kiss on the nose. “We’ll see, baby. Now get on the bus before you have to swim to school.” They both laughed, and Maria blew her a final kiss as she jumped on the bus. Lucia waved goodbye, and thought that even if it is not raining tomorrow, I will not need this big coat to keep you from asking me why I keep squeezing my legs together!
     He looks furtively both ways as he exits the delivery van, as if any of the neighbors have nothing better to do in this deluge than to watch him slink up the walk. Of course, even if they do not actually see him, it would be difficult not to notice the bright green Morales’s Florist and Gifts van parked in Lucia’s driveway for the third Thursday in a row.

     Lucia is waiting shyly by the door. She cannot believe that it has only been three weeks. It seems like forever. She shivers slightly at the cool wet breeze coming in through the cracked door.
She is not wearing much in the way of protective apparel. But she is warmed at the thought of that first Thursday. Lucia smiles as she remembers how he arrived with the large colorful centerpiece for her dinner party. He complemented her on her dress. They made small talk. Then he told her she had such pretty ankles. She had giggled like a schoolgirl, then on a devilish whim, had slowly lifted her hem to reveal her lovely calves. He nodded with greater interest. She lifted her dress above her knees. Without a word, he came to her, seized her with his huge powerful arms and kissed her deeply. He lifted her dress up to the small of her back. His strong hands squeezed her firm ass, and lifted her to meet his fiery kisses. She has no recollection of how he freed himself from his slacks, but she vividly recalls being bent over the counter, having her panties ripped away, and the crashing waves of pleasure that assaulted her with each pulsing thrust as he took her fiercely from behind.

     Lucia finds herself flushing, and short of breath as he enters the hallway. Without a word, he crushes her to him. His jacket is wet and cold against her diaphanous nighty, causing the brown nipples on her small firm breasts to harden like marbles against his chest. She breaks away to catch her breath, but grabs his hands and puts them on her chest. “You’re so cold! Here, warm your hands. Do you want some hot coffee?”

     He smiles and squeezes her breasts, causing her to moan. “You know what I want!” She knows, and wants the same. He does not bother to hang his jacket, but tosses it on the hallway settee. He picks her up, causing her to squeal in delight, and carries her to the bedroom. She nips his ear, and undoes the buttons on his shirt as they move down the hall. She is surprised as they enter the bedroom when he stops and sets her down at the door. She does not understand the scowl on his face.

     “What’s wrong, darling?”

     “You aren’t excited to see me,” he replies quietly.

     Lucia is confused. She met him at the door dressed in next to nothing, kissed and fondled him passionately, and practically undressed him with her teeth. What more does he expect?

     “Wh-what do you mean?”

     He does not say a word, but merely points to the unmade queen size bed in the middle of the bedroom.

     “Oh, I’m sorry. The little one couldn’t find her boot, and we had to run for the bus. Then I just forgot when I got home, you know ...”

     He puts a finger over her lips. “We must work on your memory.” He takes her by the hand, and leads her over to the unmade bed. He sits on the end of the bed, and pulls her over his knee.

     “Wh-What are you doing?”

     Without answering verbally, he gives her firm round bottom a sharp smack. Satisfied with her surprised yelp, he promptly gives her another smack. Her surprise starts giving way to anger as he smacks her again.

     “Okay, next time I’ll remember!”

     “Oh, I’m quite certain of that,” he assures her giving her another loud smack.

     “Ow,” she complains, covering her stinging rear with her hand. “That’s enough! You’ll leave marks!”

     He laughs, and removes her hand. His powerful grip prevents any thought of her pulling away. Although it offers virtually no protection, he turns up her nighty, and gives her another smack. He likes the feel of her hot round cheeks under his calloused square palms. Rhythmically, he smacks her again and again, causing her to cry out and kick her legs. Although the pain is extraordinary, she finds herself lifting her thighs to raise her bottom up to meet his punishing hand. She derives a perverse pleasure upon her descent, grinding her pelvis against the ever-hardening rod beneath her. When her bottom is red and blazing, he lifts her and effortlessly impales her. She throws her arms backwards around his neck and locks her fingers in his hair, pulling his head down to kiss away her tears. She grinds her fiery tail into him until they both explode.

     Lucia watches the van pull away. She rubs her stinging bottom, and wonders whether to skip tennis this afternoon. Of course, it was her girlfriends who suggested that she have an affair. Mrs. Morales smiles wickedly, and wonders, what would happen to her naughty bottom if she ever had an affair with someone other than her husband?

KC copyright 2007. Moral rights to be identified as the author of the foregoing article asserted worldwide (including in Great Britain in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act of 1988)

"Lucia's Affair" appears in:


Sunday, January 28, 2018

Ken Charles' Valentine -- "The Widow"

This story is not intended for those individuals under the age of eighteen, or for those individuals who are unusually sensitive to adult or sexually oriented materials.  For the rest of you, enjoy.

     Captain Frederick J. McAndrews, R.A.F., was young, dashing, heroic, and an absolute fraud. Everybody loved him. Every girl, whether bar maid, nurse or steno clerk, would kill for his smile. Everybody watched his every move. But only I took the time to observe him. I suppose that is why he chose me when he could have had any birdie in town.
     It was like any other Saturday night in March, 1944. Everyone was drinking a little too quickly to get it in before curfew, laughing a little too easily, and pretending that Hitler was going to fall any day. Everyone was pretending to ignore the build up around the base. Everyone was watching everyone who might be a Nazi spy while pretending not to watch. So it did not surprise me that no one really took the time to do more than simply watch Captain McAndrews while he chatted up the locals, or pretended to drink the Yanks under the table. However, it was my job to watch the watchers and the watched.
     I was extremely discrete, nursing a pint at the end of the bar, never looking at him directly, but never taking my eyes off of him in the mirror behind the bar. It was the same as always. In the last hour, he had bought two rounds, and been spotted two more, but he had never finished more than a couple of sips from any glass. Although some people came and went, Captain McAndrews was always the center of attention. After the first round or two, he rarely said a word, but it was apparent that he never missed one either. Two or three times, he was accidently jostled by blushing patrons on their way to the powder room. It did not work three weeks ago, two weeks ago, or last week either, but that would not stop them from trying it again next week. It was becoming so predictable that I was considering just adding additional dates to last week’s report.
     Mercifully, he decided to make an early night of it. Before he finished putting on his coat and making his numerous farewells, I was out the door. The early evening drizzle was now a downpour. I was still three blocks from home when the wind reversed and ripped my umbrella. I was two and half blocks from home when the car pulled up.
     “Say, can I give you a lift?”
     It was wrong. The simple and obvious answer was no thank you. Double pneumonia was still better than being shot.
     “Thank you. You’re a life saver.”
     “Well, I’ve been called many things in my day, but that is a first. I’m Frederick
     “Julie Winters. Pleased to meet you Mr. McAndrews.”
     “Pleased to meet you as well, Miss Winters. But call me Freddie.”
     “Fine. Julie, then.”
     He nodded and smiled. I smiled back. He was much larger than he appeared in the mirror, and his smile was markedly different. It actually appeared to be genuine. I shivered.
     “Sorry, Julie. But I’ll have you home long before there’s any heat.”
     I nodded and told him not to worry about it. In a minute, he pulled up in front of my flat. I never told him where I lived.
     “I’ve been watching you, too.”
     They can only shoot you once.
     “Lordy, what time is it?”
     “A quarter to five. You can go back to sleep, but I have to get going. And I’m going to need that.”
     I was snuggled in his shirt. I liked it. I did not care to give it back. I informed him,
     “Sorry, but you simply cannot have it.”
     “Now see here, Missy...”
     I giggled and pulled the comforter over my head.
     “If I have to come in there after you, someone is going to get her naughty bottom
     “You wouldn’t dare, you brute!”
     “To the contrary! One... Two... Three!”
I gripped the comforter as tightly as I could. But that only proved to be another Maginot
Line. Before I knew what was happening, the bottom half of the comforter and a bundle of sheets flew up from the bottom of the bed. Freddie grabbed both of my ankles in one large hand and lifted both legs up. As his shirt dropped, is other hand landed three sharp smacks on my poor inverted bum.
     He dropped my legs and uncovered my head. “You’re a beast, you know.” I pouted and was rewarded with a kiss. So I pouted again.
     I leaned on my side and watched him finish getting dressed. Unshaven and wearing a wrinkled shirt, I would have bet a pound that he could have reported for duty just like that and escaped a reprimand. As he tied his tie, I rolled out of bed. I walked over and hugged him tightly. I did not plan them, but tears started anyway.
     “This is wrong, you know.”
     “Yes, it is. But not for the reasons you think.”
     “How do you know what I think?”
     “Don’t worry about that. Suffice it to say that you have not done anything wrong or
anything to feel guilty about.”
     I hugged him tighter. “But still I do.”
     Freddie hugged me and stroked my hair. He leaned down and gave a long deep kiss. Then he took his jacket off and laid it over the chair. He took me by the hand and led me back over to the bed. He sat down on the half stripped bed and pulled me across his knee. I did not resist.
     He raised his hand and paused. I held my breath. When I exhaled, he gave me a
frightful whack on the right cheek. I would have cried out, but I had no air. He gave me
another fearful smack on the left cheek. But I was ready now. I whimpered but did not cry out.
     Smack! Crack! Freddie alternated back and forth leaving no part of my poor bottom untouched. I did not kick or try to pull away. This was a gift, and I recognized it as such. After about two dozen fiery cracks, I fully embraced its solace and with a small sob, let loose a torrent of dammed up tears.
     After my final goodbye kiss, I told Freddie that dinner was at 7:30. He shook his head and told me that he could not promise anything. I nodded and told him I understood. We performed this ritual every morning for the next six weeks.
     I do not know how he found them, but the package contained six lamb chops. I smiled weakly, kissed him, and told him that it was a wonderful surprise. I refused to start crying. But there was an extra clean shirt at the bottom of his bag.
     We made love three times that night. The first time I raped him. The second time I rode him for as long as I could. The last time, I took him as deeply as I could so that that much more of me would remember him. I did not sleep that night. I held him until dawn.
I laid out his clean shirt with his other clothes. I made a pot of coffee, then woke him at a
quarter to five. I refused to cry while I watched him dress. Tears would come soon enough.
     Freddie finished adjusting his tie. I walked over and hugged him tightly. He bent down, stared into my eyes for hours, then gave me a long kiss.
     “This was not wrong.”
     “No, Freddie, it wasn’t. But not for the reasons you think.”
     “How do you know what I think?”
     “It doesn’t matter. But I know you love me.”
     “Yes, Julie, I do love you.”
     “Mark me, Freddie.”
     “Pardon me?”
     “I want you to mark me, Freddie.”
     I broke away from him and walked to the closet. We both knew this day would come. So several weeks earlier, I had prepared myself. I took out the antique whale-bone cane that I had purchased. I brought it over to him, kissed it, and placed it in his hands. “I want you to mark me, then leave. If I see you to the door, I won’t let you go.”
     I kissed him for the last time. Then I took the pillows and put them in the middle of the bed. I laid down over the pillows and turned Freddie’s shirt up.
     June 24, 1944. The marks had faded. The next outward signs of our relationship would not be apparent for a few more weeks. I was not surprised to see the MP’s waiting by my desk. In fact, I was relieved. They took me directly to the Colonel’s office.
All of the papers were laid out on the Colonel’s desk. I was surprised at how much material was there. And I was correct that Captain Frederick J. McAndrews was a fraud.
     “Do you have anything that you would like to say, Julie?”
     I shook my head no. What was there to say?
     “Fine, then I have a few things to say. James Frederick Browne was a fine man, and a great patriot. I served with his father, and I knew James his whole life. I hand picked him for his mission. Though I cannot give you any of the details, I can tell you his work saved a lot of lads on June 6th.
     “James was a very thoughtful and dedicated man. But I never would have described him as happy until he met you. The family solicitor will help you with James’s estate. But here are a couple of things that James left with me to give to you.”
     I had never seen it before, but the signature at the bottom of the marriage license from April 14, 1944, for James Frederick Browne and Juliette Winters, was mine. The stone on the ring was small, but perfect. Captain Frederick J. McAndrews, R.A.F., was young, dashing, heroic, patriotic, an absolute fraud, and first and foremost, my husband.

KC Copyright 2004; Moral rights to be identified as the author of “The Widow” asserted worldwide (including in Great Britain in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act of 1988)


"The Widow" appears in Venus and Marks.


Friday, January 5, 2018

January Heat, er Treat from Ken Charles-"Billy and Missy"

This story is not intended for those individuals under the age of eighteen, or for those individuals that are unusually sensitive to adult or sexually oriented materials. 

by Ken Charles
    Billy awoke to the sensation of warmth. Missy had a bowl of warm water and two washcloths, one wet and soapy, the other still dry. She carefully washed his cock then rinsed it, and gently patted him dry. She smiled when he opened his eyes.
     The blinds were lowered, but the room was plenty bright. Billy groaned. “It can't be morning yet.”
     Missy shook her head. “No, it's definitely not morning. It's 2:15 in the afternoon.”
    “You're kidding.”
     “Nope. We didn't go to sleep until half past three this morning.”
     “How's your aura?” Billy inquired.
     "Bright and shiny!"
     Billy met Missy on a late night, sex-chat phone line. They had talked half a dozen times in the past couple of weeks. In the past, they'd skipped any small talk, and gone straight to phone sex.
     This week was different. They actually started talking to each other, rather than at each other. Missy had complained and moaned for several days that her aura was dark and cloudy. Although he had no clue what she was talking about, he recommended several times that she try to change it. Missy preferred to grouse. By the third day, his recommendations turned to warnings. On their fourth call in as many nights, Billy threatened to adjust her aura with the back side of her favorite wooden hairbrush.
     The line went silent for the better part of a minute. Billy thought she hung up, and was about to do the same, when a tiny voice replied, “That's exactly what it needs.”
     It was already after 1:00 a.m., but they agreed to meet at a twenty-four hour diner. Although he was better than ninety percent certain that she wouldn't show up, he used the restroom, brushed his teeth for the second time in an hour, dressed, grabbed his keys, wallet, and pair of condoms off his dresser, then ran out to the car, and drove off to meet her. To his surprise, she was waiting for him when he arrived. To his greater surprise and pleasure, she invited him home after they finished their coffee.
     Missy stood in front of Billy, her hands clasped behind her head. He tapped the palm of  his hand with the oval wooden brush. He noted, with appreciation, her well-filled, plain white blouse.
     “Do you know why you're here, young lady?”
     “Yes, sir.”
     “Your behavior has been unacceptable. It is going to change, starting right now. Do you understand?”
     Missy whispered, “Yes, sir.”
     Billy nodded, and forced himself not to smile. Her nipples were clearly outlined beneath her sheer blouse. She wasn't wearing a bra.  He set the brush down on the night stand between his chair and the bed.  “All right then. Let's get started. Over my knee.”
     Missy placed herself face down over his knee as instructed. This time Billy allowed himself a smile. She was as impressive from the back as she was from the front. He ran his hand over the tight seat of pants. “You've had this coming for a while, girl.” He raised his hand, then gave her bottom a sharp smack. Without giving her time to react, he raised his hand and gave her a second firm swat. This time he paused to gauge her reaction. Satisfied that she was serious, he continued. Left, smack. Right, whack. Center, smack. He continued to give her several dozen firm spanks before ordering her to stand up.
     Missy stood. Her face was red, but she wasn't crying. She was about to rub her bottom, but stopped abruptly when Billy barked, “Hands on your head, young lady!” She put her hands back behind her head.
     Billy reached over and unzipped her slacks. She inhaled sharply as he lowered them to mid thigh, but left her panties up. “Back over my knee.”
     “Oh,” she half-heartedly objected.
     “Silence, girl. You have a long way to go yet.”
     Missy resumed her place over his knee. Billy noted the soft, smooth pink flesh just below the bottom of her panties. Pink, not yet red. She had a long way to go. Without a word, Billy gave her a dozen more smacks to each cheek.
     He paused, and asked, “Up or down?”
     He gave her a sharp smack on the back of her left thigh eliciting the first of many “Owwww”s.
     “I don't like to repeat myself. Up or down?”
     “Sorry, sir. I, uh, up, I guess.”
     Billy grabbed her panties and pulled them deep into the crack of her firm, round ass, baring both pinkened mounds. He gave each cheek a firm squeeze, then resumed the spanking. Left, whack. Right, smack. Center, whack. And repeat. Every couple of rotations, Billy gave one thigh or the other a hard smack just to keep her attention. 
     As Missy's bottom grew warmer and redder, her breath grew shorter. As expected, the spanking was proving to be a real pain in the ass, but the smacks on her thighs really stung. Billy gave her three hard smacks on the right cheek, then squeezed and rubbed her bottom several times. Missy became acutely aware of the wedged panties, particularly where they rubbed across her tingling mons.
     For the first time in several minutes, her butt cheeks unclenched. Billy took that as a good sign. He gave her six blistering smacks, three on each thigh. Missy burst into tears.
     “Stand up.”
     Missy rose unsteadily. Billy helped her up, then stood himself. He took her by the left ear, and pulled her, shuffling along in tiny steps, over to the corner. She stood there sniffling with her nose pressed to the wall and her hands behind her head.
     Billy walked uncomfortably over to the side table and picked up the brush. He brought it back over to Missy. He took her hands from behind her head, and crossed her arms behind her back. He placed the brush in her left hand. “Do not drop it.”
     Billy walked back over to the night stand. He emptied the pockets of his jeans, setting his keys, a small pocket knife, some change, and a pair of foil wrapped condoms on the stand. He opened his jeans, reached into his briefs and adjusted himself. It provided a small modicum of relief. He expected to become much more uncomfortable in the next several minutes.
     He walked slowly to the bathroom. He took a moment to drink a paper cup of cold water, then returned to his chair in the bedroom. “Come here!”
     Missy started at his command. She hurried, as best she could with her slacks around her knees and her arms crossed behind her back, back over to the chair. She stood in front of him and waited for the next instruction.
     Billy reached over, and lowered her panties, noting with satisfaction that the gusset was as moist as his briefs. He nodded, pleasantly surprised to find her trimmed, but unshaven. Although it was exactly the reaction she wanted, Missy still blushed watching him inspect her.
     “Hand me the brush, then back over.”
     Missy took a deep breath to center herself. She exhaled slowly, handed him the brush, and took her place back over his knee. She trembled, waiting, dreading, wanting.
     Billy let her wait. The view was magnificent, and he was in hurry. After a full minute, he gave her the first smack without warning.  Missy screamed.
    Whack! Crack! Smack!
    The brush was merciless. He delivered a dozen blazing cracks to each cheek, leaving her kicking and sobbing. Missy tried to protect herself with her right hand, but Billy grabbed her wrist and pulled it up behind her back. “That will be quite enough wriggling, young lady.” He raised his right leg and crossed it over hers, pinning her into place. Satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere, Billy resumed with a dozen firm whacks on her thighs that left her wailing.
     Billy stopped to examine his handiwork. Missy's mounds were deep red. Several small lines and abrasions marked the edges of the brush from several strokes. He was tempted to leave well enough alone, but she had been quite insistent at the diner. She needed to be well marked. Billy always tried to give a woman what she wanted. He raised the brush, and gave her the first of twenty-five cracks right across both cheeks.
     A dozen more thunderous cracks to each cheek followed. Billy paused to peruse her purpling puppies. He had definitely given her what she asked for. He set the brush down on the small of her back, and gave her a moment to compose herself.
     “Have you learned your lesson, young lady?”
     “Y-y-y-yes, s-s-sir,” she whimpered.
     “You are going to get five more cracks. You will ask for each of them, and thank me for them.
You may ask for the first.”
     “P-please, s-sir. May I h-have the first.”
     “Owowowow! Thank you, s-sir. M-may I have the s-s-second?”
     “Ooooooh! Th-thank y-you, huh, huh, sir. May I have the third, s-sir?” 
     “Ow! Thank you, sir. M-may I have, uh, uh, the fourth! The fourth, sir?”
    “Oooooow! Th-thank y-you, sir. May I, uh, uh, uh, h-have the l-last one, s-sir?”
      “Omigod! Owowowowowow! Th-thank you, sir.”
     Billy set the brush down on the night stand. He traced several rubescent weals with his finger. She would be well marked in the morning, as requested. He lifted her off of his lap.
     Billy picked up the brush “Do we need another session?”
     Missy opened her mouth, then shut it without saying a word. She walked back over to the corner, and stood with her nose to the wall sobbing, her hands behind her head, and her rosy red rear on display for Billy's viewing pleasure. Billy thoroughly enjoyed the view for several minutes.
     Missy's corner time was as hard on Billy as it was on her. When he couldn't take it any more, he walked up silently behind her. The sobs were reduced to sniffles. He leaned close to ear, and asked softly, “Have you learned your lesson, young lady?”
     Missy flinched, then replied, “Yes, sir.”
     Billy put his arms around her. “Are you ready for some forgiveness?”
     She leaned back against him. “Yes, sir,” she answered, a little more enthusiastically.
     He leaned down and kissed her neck. She attempted to take hold of his head, but he warned her to keep her hands behind her head. He licked her ear. She moaned.
     Billy ran his hands up and down her sides, then slid around and cupped her breasts. He squeezed both of them, then pinched her nipples. Reluctantly releasing the nipples, he unbuttoned the first button on her blouse. He kissed the other side of her neck as he undid the second button.
     He slipped his right hand into the blouse and cupped her left breast. He found the nipple once more, and rolled it under his thumb. His left hand slid down her side until it reached her bare thigh. It slid around to the front. He gathered the curly hair in his hand and gave a soft tug, before seeking out the soft folds of skin beneath. She gasped as his middle finger sought out and found her throbbing pleasure nub, and gently teased it.
     He finished unbuttoning her blouse, and slid it off. He cupped both breasts, and helped her step out of her slacks and panties.
     He turned her around. He reached around her and grabbed her hot bottom with both hands. He kissed her. She opened her mouth and let his tongue sweep inside. He released her bottom and reached up and took her hands and placed them around his neck. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her up and carried her over to the bed.
     Billy set her down, then freed himself long enough to strip off his shirt, and unbutton his jeans. Missy took over and unzipped and lowered his jeans and briefs. He stepped clear, shed his socks and rejoined her on the bed.
     He took her breasts and pressed them together, allowing him to take both of her nipples in his mouth at the same time. He rolled them back and forth under his tongue. Missy sighed, then yiped as he gently nipped them.
     She took his cock in her hands and stroked him. She cupped his balls, then reached between his legs  and teased his anus with one long pink french nail. It was Billy's turn to gasp.
     Missy giggled, then released him. She reached over to the night stand and grabbed the condoms. She ripped open the top package, and pulled out the condom. She grinned as she slid it on Billy's waiting shaft. “I want you inside me. Now!”
     “Your wish is my command. But you've been a very naughty girl. And your punishment isn't over yet. Turn over. I want your head down and your naughty bottom raised up. That's it.”
     “Yes, sir. I've been such a bad girl. Please fuck my naughty ass and teach me to behave.”
     Billy noticed a pump bottle of skin repair lotion on the night stand. He pumped a large glop into his hand, then rubbed it into the crack of her ass. He placed the tip of his throbbing cock at her rear entrance and pushed forward. There was resistance, but he managed to force the swollen glans inside. He pushed steadily forward and slid in an inch. Missy exhaled, relaxing, then pushed back against him. Billy met her push with a thrust of his own, and slid all the way in.
     Missy was so tight and hot.  He pulled back, then slammed forward. He was so close.
     She reached underneath herself and slid a finger inside. She rubbed herself in time to his thrusts.
She was so close.
     He grabbed a handful of hair, and lifted her head. He slapped her thigh as he drove into her. Missy yelped, then shuddered as the climax that had been building for the last half hour washed over her. Billy gasped, and joined her.
      “How's your aura?” Billy inquired.
     “Bright and shiny blue. Thank you,” Missy beamed.
     “My pleasure. I'm glad I could be of service. How's your ass? Turn around.”
     She set the bowl and washrag on the side table. She turned around and wiggled her well marked ass in his face. “You know, you could be of service again.”
     “Oh, really? And how may I serve you this afternoon, young lady?”
     Instead of answering verbally, Missy leaned over and took his flaccid penis in her mouth. Billy stirred instantly. She swirled her tongue over it twice, then popped it back out. She took the rising member in her left hand and stroked it gently while she ran her tongue up and down the underside. She cupped his balls in her right hand and squeezed gently. 
     Billy was almost fully erect. Missy ran her tongue down the length of the shaft, and across his balls. He moaned, eliciting a high pitched giggle from Missy. “You like that, don't you?” she cooed.
     “Oh, yeah. That's very nice.”
     Missy swept her tongue back the other way, and proceeded up the shaft. When she reached the top, she put him back in her mouth, and bobbed up and down several times to ensure that he was as hard as he was going to get.
     She lifted her head clear, but continued stroking him with her left hand. She reached over to the side table and picked up the last of the condoms that Billy had brought. She ripped the foil packet open with her teeth, then put the condom in her mouth. She leaned over, and slid the condom over his turgid rod using only her mouth.
     Missy clambered over him, then faced and straddled him, and slowly impaled herself, singing softly to herself something like “Dum-de-de-dum-de-de-dum”. When he was fully inside her, she stopped and enjoyed the sensation of being filled. Billy reached  up and squeezed her breasts. She closed her eyes, and began posting up and down, slowly and rhythmically to the music in her head. She continued to mouth the words silently, but occasionally gave voice to some of the lyrics, something about going into the city to save a horse.
     She continued to post. Each time she started down, Billy thrust upwards to meet her halfway. He rolled her nipples back and forth, then mashed her full breasts together. He pinched the nipples. Missy gasped, and smiled and said something about gigging frogs.
     “I'll gig your frogs, baby.” He pinched her nipples again. “Frogs. That's a new one to me. Jugs, boobs, honkers, tomatoes, melons, tits, knockers, sure. Frogs. Nope. That one is new.”
     She giggled, then went back to mouthing her lyrics. She continued steadily lifting herself up, then slamming back down. Her breathing quickened. Billy squeezed her breasts together, did his first abdominal crunch of the day, and licked both of her nipples. 
     “What? What?”
     He dropped back against the pillow. “What?”

     When she didn't answer, Billy reluctantly released his grip on her right frog, and gave her a sharp smack on her bruised bottom. Missy yelped, then threw her head back and screamed. “Yeeeeeeeeeehaw. Way to go, Cowboy!” Billy thrust upwards just as Missy threw her weight back, practically doubling the heat and pressure on the top of his driving piston. Billy threw his head back in the pillows, and came hard as well.

KC Copyright 2011; Moral rights to be identified as the author of the foregoing story asserted worldwide (including in Great Britain in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act of 1988) 

"Billy and Missy" is an excerpt from Billy's Tale-Sex Tales From West County


Sunday, August 21, 2016

A Tale of Two Prepositions

AUGUST 2, 2016
By Bruce C. Cohen
            This is the tale of two tiny prepositions, “to” and “by”. Between them, they have the power to decide all statewide elections this November. As it stands today, “to” is winning which means that if nothing changes between now and the November elections, Republicans will sweep all statewide contests.

            There are 115 counties (including St. Louis City) in Missouri. The election authorities for these counties is established in Missouri Revised Statutes Section 115.015 which provides, “The county clerk shall be the election authority, except that in a city or county having a board of election commissioners, the board of election commissioners shall be the election authority.”  Section 115.017 establishes the counties where a board of election commissioners can operate. Six counties qualify, including St. Louis County, St. Louis City, Kansas City, Clay County, Jackson County and Platte County. According to the Official Manual State of Missouri 2015-2016, as of 2014, these six counties had a total of 1,647,478 voters out of a statewide total of 4,081,259, comprising approximately forty percent of the electorate.

            In 109 of 115 counties, the county clerk serves as the election authority. In the other six counties listed above, however, a board of election commissioners serves as the election authority. The problem is, these six boards of election commissioners have no constitutional authority to act. Missouri Constitution Art. IV, Section 12 provides in relevant part, “Unless discontinued all present or future boards… of the state exercising administrative or executive authority shall be assigned by law or by the governor as provided by law to the office of administration or to one of the fifteen administrative departments to which their respective powers and duties are germane.” (Emphasis added) On its face, this section applies to “all” executive branch boards without exception, including boards of election commissioners. This is where the preposition “by” comes into play. Boards may be assigned “by” law or “by” the governor as provided “by” law.

Nothing in Missouri Revised Statutes Chapter 115 assigns the boards of election commissioners by law to the office of administration or to an executive branch department as required by Missouri Constitution Art. IV, Section 12. Accordingly, the responsibility for assigning these boards falls on the governor. The law providing for assignment of a board by the governor is the Omnibus State Reorganization Act of 1974, Missouri Revised Statutes Appendix B (hereinafter “OSRA”). Under the OSRA, if a board is not assigned by law to the office of administration or a state executive branch department, then the governor may assign the board. All it takes is a one page letter. It is so simple, even John Ashcroft could do it (see e.g. EXECUTIVE ORDER 86-03).

This is where the preposition “to” comes into play. Unfortunately, no governor has ever assigned the six boards of election commissioners “to” the office of administration or an executive branch department. The Official Manual State of Missouri 2015-2016, at page 871 lists the six boards of election commissioners as “Boards Assigned to the Governor”. Under Missouri Constitution Art. IV, Sec. 12, there is no such thing as a “Board Assigned to the Governor”. Boards may be assigned “by” the governor, not “to” the governor. Until such time as the boards of election commissioners are assigned “to” the office of administration or an executive branch department, those boards have no more authority to conduct election activities than a Wednesday night coed volleyball league.

In the governor’s election in 2012, Democrat Jeremiah W. (Jay) Nixon defeated Republican David (Dave) Spence 1,494,056 to 1,160,265. Governor Nixon outpolled Spence 725,825 to 366,058 in the six board of election commissioner counties: St. Louis 324,748 to 185,704; St. Louis City 117,979 to 19,478, Kansas City 107,474 to 23,806; Jackson 94,008 to 73,518; Clay 57,962 to 43,398; Platte 23,654 to 20,154. Without these six counties, Spence won 794,207 to 768,231. Similarly, in the Secretary of State election, Democrat Jason Kander defeated Republican Shane Schoeller 1,298,022 to 1,258,937. But if you subtract the votes from the six board of election commissioner counties (Kander 675,103 to Schoeller 382,293), Kander lost 876,644 to 622,919.

In short, democrats cannot win a statewide election without the votes from the six board of election commissioner counties. But without a constitutional election authority, the forty percent of the Missouri electorate residing in those six counties are disenfranchised. Their votes cannot be counted.

There are two ways to return the franchise to the voters in the six affected counties. First, Governor Nixon could assign the boards of election commissioners to the office of administration or an executive branch department in accordance with Missouri Constitution Art. IV, Section 12 and the OSRA. Second, the legislature could assign the boards by a new law. Unless one of these two things happen, Republicans have already swept the statewide elections in November. All that is left is the final paperwork.

Copyright 8/2/16 by Bruce C. Cohen
Permission granted for reproduction with proper attribution.

Bruce C. Cohen and Doni R. Miller are currently challenging the 2014 elections for St. Louis County Executive and Prosecutor at the Missouri Supreme Court, CAUSE NO. SC95793. Electronic copies of Appellants’ Brief are available upon request at bccohen1@earthlink.net.

Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Trump Campaign Shake Up Press Release

AUGUST 17, 2016


The Trump campaign announced a major shake up for the second time this political season. The executive chairman of Breitbart News LLC, Stephen Bannon, replaced Paul Manafort as the campaign's chief executive following Manafort's recent Ukrainian difficulties manufactured by the DNC and the Clinton campaign.

Mr. Trump explained, "We are absolutely thrilled, absolutely thrilled to bring Stephen Bannon on board. Breitbart is the world-wide leading publisher of right wing fantasy and fanfic. The world-wide leader. With Stephen here, we can finally start ignoring facts altogether."

Friday, March 11, 2016

Ballroom caning from The Mercies of Cinderella by Ken Charles

     It had the curious appearance of a ballroom dance. The twelve hand selected members of the Prince’s personal guard, in their finest dress uniforms, strode into the Court in two files of six. Each carried a four foot long cane at his side. As the two columns approached the thrones, the last in line stopped. Every four steps thereafter, the next in line from the rear would stop, until the first in each line stopped ten paces from the thrones. The guards then took two steps apart, clicked their heels once, then froze in rigid attention. Cinderella’s twelve Ladies in Waiting, dressed in diaphanous translucent white camlets, entered next in two files of six. When each had taken a place next to one of the guards, the Ladies curtsied to Prince and Princess.


     The Ladies turned around in unison, and bent over and grabbed their ankles. Each guard then parted his partner’s camlet at the rear, exposing twelve lovely pairs of creamy white orbs. The guards snapped back to attention as Captain of the Guard came forward, and bowed to the Prince and Princess. Captain of the Guard turned and addressed the twelve pairs.

     “It is the duty of a Lady in Waiting to attend to the needs and desires of her mistress. But the paramount duty of every Lady, which rises above tending to the needs or desires of her mistress, is to ensure the safety and well being of her mistress, even when it might conflict with a Lady’s other duties. In this regard, these Ladies have failed their mistress. While the fault might not be entirely their own, there is still a price to be paid for such negligence.”

     Cinderella felt tears welling up. She had not told any of them what she intended when she went for her ride. Indeed, until she gave Snow Princess her apple, she had not even thought of such a misadventure. It was not fair that her Ladies should have to pay for her misdeeds.

     “Assume positions. One!”


     Twelve simultaneous cracks echoed through the Court, accompanied by twelve concurrent gasps.



     Twelve red lines appeared an inch below twelve others. Twelve more gasps were followed by several intermittent sobs.



     The Prince and Princess looked out at thirty-six fiery bars.



     A dozen yelps, and a dozen more crimson weals leapt to the fore.



     Tears fell readily as a fifth line blazed forth, forming a dozen perfect staffs for musical compositions.



     A dozen vicious diagonal cuts barred the gates. The guards snapped back to attention, as Captain of the Guard turned back to the Prince.

     “A full measure, Milord, as ordered. Does it meet with Milord’s satisfaction?”

     “Well done, Captain of the Guard. You may dismiss your troops.”

     Captain of the Guard bowed, and turned to his troops.

     “Company dismissed.”

     The guards clicked their heels, then retreated in the reverse order from their entry, leaving the weeping Ladies bent over on display. When the last of the guards had left the Court, Captain of the Guard turned back to the Prince and Princess, bowed, and took his leave.

    The Prince rose. “I leave you, Milady, to deal with your Ladies further as you deem meet and proper.”

     Cinderella rose and curtsied to the Prince.

     The Prince left the Court to the fanfare of a dozen muted sobs. Once the great hall doors closed behind him, Cinderella ran down the steps to the center of the room.

     “Come to me!”

     The Ladies ran to Cinderella and hugged her and each other. Together they cried.


Ready to read the rest?  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01B1W4YWK