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The Book of Trinity (ALL parts, 1- 32)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
The Book of Trinity
by "Trinity Barrett"
(a pseudonym of Wilma)
NOTE: This is a book-length story I wrote some
time ago. Except for some scenes that came
from my personal experiences (some of which
have been posted in my stories about me), the
book is fiction. It freely mixes religion and
explicit sex, including D/s, algolagnia, male-
female, fetish, obsession, incest, Lesbianism.
It is NOT intended to portray Christian folks
and is blatantly offensive and disturbing. You
may well want to skip The Book of Trinity.
--Wilma.
Chapter One, Post 1 of 32
My name is Trinity Barrett. I'm a natural blond and
undisguisedly, outrageously, gloriously beautiful. I don't try to
hide it. I love it. Wherever I go, no one can avoid looking at
me. I look back and smile because I really understand what it must
be like for them. For some reason, they never expect to be
acknowledged, especially men who can only dream of goddesses and
can't believe we exist outside of magazines and movies. Even women
study me in disbelief.
I'm sexy. Can't help it. I love sex. All kinds. I'm that
way because of Jonathan, my first lover and still my best lay.
Reverend Jonathan Barrett. Surprised? Yes, Jonathan and Trinity
Barrett, still lovers in spite of the story I'm going to tell you.
I said Jonathan was my first lover. He was not my first fuck,
though. He was my second fuck, a couple of weeks or so after I
fucked James. I don't count dildoing myself senseless several
times a week before I took James into the woods.
We were 18 and seniors at Doolittle High School in Reno. My
class had voted to have our graduation party in a wooded area of
the Sierra Nevada foothills. I was horny as a two-pussied mink and
decided I wanted to fuck the class valedictorian. James was
intelligent, quiet, and afraid of girls, and I figured it would be
his first time and he'd be safe and clean. I was right about that
but wrong about thinking a genius would learn so fast he would know
what to do. I told him I wanted to talk to him about what I should
take in college. I needed his advice. We managed to slip away
from the crowd for a walk through the woods.
I was wearing short shorts and had the ends of my shirt tied
in a bow at my cleavage. I led him down to a clearing near a
stream and leaned against a tree. The poor boy. His eyes darted
all over the trees and the stream and his hands and the flora and
the fauna trying to avoid looking where his soul wanted to look.
I'll never forget his moment of surrender. He was trying to talk
but couldn't get his breath or keep his concentration. Finally, he
just stopped and let it all out in a pitiable sigh and stood there
helplessly looking at my body.
"Wanna fuck?" I said softly.
He couldn't answer. Couldn't move, even. He stood there
catatonically, his eyes glazing over. I captured his defenseless
gaze with my sexy blue eyes as I glided to him and unbuttoned his
shorts. Looking him right in the eye all the while, I reached in
and found his unsoftening cock and played with him slowly. He
still hadn't moved, but his eyes widened and he took a breath of
air finally. I sunk slowly to my knees and took his dick in my
mouth and sucked on it.
He wasn't catatonic all over. His floppy peter grew in my
mouth and stiffened into a prick so rigid I wondered if it hurt.
It seemed like it was being engorged with much more blood than it
could hold. I decided I'd better get it inside me before it
hemorrhaged. It was so tight a cat couldn't have scratched it.
Getting him down was no problem. His legs were already so
wobbly I thought he was going to fall before I could suck as much as
I wanted. A slight tug on the backs of his knees, and down he came.
I pulled his shorts off underwear and all, eyeing that tight tower
curving toward the sky. He let out a high, weak moan as I
practically ripped my shirt and shorts off and stood over him. I
was suddenly in a big hurry and had to have it I-mean-now!
Forgetting that sensuality is supposed to be slow, I wasn't
gentle with the boy at all. I sunk down on him and took his hard
swollen organ all the way up in me in one swell foop and used him
mindlessly and viciously, digging my nails into his tits and then
grabbing him by the face and mauling him as I fucked him like a
crazed animal. I was absolutely demented. I didn't even feel it
when he shot his heavy teenage loads in me, and then I went into a
rage when his cock shrunk into worthlessness.
It's possible I lost contact with reality in the heat of my
twin passions of rage and lust. I don't remember hitting him, but
I know I was momentarily psychotic and I know I left him lying
there bruised and crying. I was hotter than ever and hated the
little four-eyed bastard for going off like that before I was done
with him. There was no time for pity or shame. I had to get to a
dildo I kept in the car before I killed somebody, and I couldn't
have cared less about poor James.
I broke nails off all ten fingers attacking the glove
compartment and retrieving my dildo, and I raped myself in the
front seat of my Saab with complete abandon. I dildoed and clawed
myself for a week before I came down far enough to feel sorry for
what I had done to James. Do you suppose I'm the reason he turned
down his scholarship to Harvard to tour the country as a foil for a
women's wrestling outfit? I heard he married a body builder after
that and, when she tired of him, joined a feminist cult in
California which worships Inanna and burns wicker men in pagan
rituals. Oh, well, Blessed be She, but maybe James can switch to
Pan when the Inanna women have used him up. He did have a nice
cock on him, and it would be a pity for it go to waste altogether
just because a few hundred women here and there prefer each other
or would rather burn wickers than suck wicks.
The second fuck was different. Jonathan had preached a
beautiful sermon that evening and had taken me and several other
choir members out to dinner afterward. We dropped them off one by
one at their respective houses before going to a special getaway
cabin the church provided him as a retreat. It's a beautiful place
on Lake Tahoe where Jonathan often went to get in touch with
himself and pray and study. You'll know very shortly why we
weren't afraid to be seen together at Tahoe or anywhere else.
We'd been there many times before, but some unspoken knowledge
passed between us this time. Somehow, we knew we were going to
make love. When we got to the cabin, we sat our bags down and
looked at each other and simply started kissing as though we had
done it all our lives.
"This is it, isn't it?" I said. "We're going to make love."
"Yes."
"Finally."
"Finally."
We got naked unhurriedly, our eyes never leaving each other.
I got on the huge bed and lay on my stomach facing the foot of the
bed. He stood in front of me, and I watched his cock harden as his
eyes and his soul took in the beauty of my young body. We've never
gotten used to seeing each other naked. Not that we were
inhibited. Not at all that. No, I say without need for modesty
that it is the irresistibly lustworthy magnificence of our naked
bodies that stimulates us afresh each time.
That, and an exciting sense of the forbidden our minds
overcame but which lingered in archetypal uneasiness within our
psyches.
He moved closer, his great god-cock fully engorged, the base
of his beautiful organ of male lust inches from my face. His
smooth, bronzed legs and manly body towered over me with its male
power beckoning me, drawing me, pulling me to it like a dynamic,
spiritual force.
I tilted my head to one side and let my silky blond tresses
cascade across my shoulder to the bed. I opened my mouth. He
squatted and pressed the base of his hard prick against my warm,
sensuous young lips. I sucked gently, chewing, licking the blond
hairs and lip-biting the base of his huge hard-on.
"Ohhhhh, Baby," he breathed, and he gyrated slowly against my
mouth. His big dick slid back and forth across my soft young face
as I chewed at the base of it. He held me by the head and face as
he fucked. "Oh, Jesus, Jesus, sweet Jesus in Heaven, this is good.
Suck it, suck it, my sweet beautiful young goddess."
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 2, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 2 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
His blending of earnest prayer with the act of mind-bending
sexual pleasure deepened the experience for me. I often felt as
though Jesus Himself was participating in sex with me, so close did
He seem when I and the first man I had ever known made love.
Jonathan Barrett had that gift. Jesus always seemed close,
palpably so, when Jonathan preached or sang in his rich, cracking
baritone. The hardest of hearts would come to his services with
their cynicism and their prejudices, and they would leave with
Jesus in their hearts and His blessings on their lips.
Jonathan's presence was a spiritual experience. His
congregation knew that much. But I knew much more. Jonathan naked
with a hard-on was a spine-tingling spiritual experience. Kissing
Jonathan's hard-on as he fucked on my face was a soul-lifting,
spine-tingling spiritual experience. Swallowing him or feeling his
god-cock penetrate me and work on me was a soul-lifting, spine-
tingling, ecstatic and profound spiritual experience.
Drinking his cum or feeling it bathe my insides and instill
peace in my soul and body was an incomparable, supernal
transporting of my entire being into the loving and secure arms of
God Almighty and His angelic hosts, the ultimate spiritual
experience that began with a spinal reflex and culminated in
oneness with God.
He had turned me over on my back and was wiping his crotch in
my eager young face. I licked his balls and his crotch and parted
his cheeks so I could service his asshole. I felt him relax his
sphincters when I touched my tongue to his anus. He pressed down
slightly and I pulled on him. My tongue slipped easily up inside
his shitpit, and I heard him groan and swoon as I licked inside him
and tasted him.
I believed myself to be part of God's ministry. Because of
me, here was a force to be reckoned with by the Devil and the
powers of darkness: Jonathan Barrett, a man of God with a full sex
life and free of the guilt and negative energy that consumes so
many of God's people. Satan didn't have a chance. Jonathan
brought the Lord with him even to the variety of sex a misguided
world enslaved by fear and ignorance would call perverted.
His hard-on was all the way down my throat. He pulled it out
slowly and let me ready myself for the next slow-motion
penetration. I watched in fascination as his balls loomed down
toward my eyes. I felt the soft hardness of his big wet fuckstick
sliding in my mouth and pushing at the back of my throat. My
throat opened miraculously and I felt him slide down it. I moved
my head back and forth to work his monster cock in my throat and
feel his legs and balls on my face. I worked his dick with the
muscles in my throat.
Again he withdrew, and again he eased his hard juicy dick down
my throat. He slid it out, back in, out again, and back in again.
He withdrew and stood looking at me for a moment, letting his
gaze glide leisurely over my exquisite nakedness. He crawled over
me and lay on the bed, holding his hand out to me. I came to him
and cuddled against him, feeling the manliness of his body against
the womanliness of my own.
"I'm going to fuck you now, Baby, my wonderful, delicious
young beauty. I'm going to stick my big hard dick up inside your
young body. I want to press my nakedness against the soft, god-
given wonders of your magnificent teenage body. Our souls will
meld as our bodies unite in the holy communion of love."
"I love you, Daddy. Fuck me . . . fuck me, Daddy."
"I love you, my darling daughter." He gazed into my eyes.
"My darling Trinity," he whispered, and he kissed me deeply with a
passion known only to those who indulge forbidden lusts.
I moved against him, sliding my long, beautiful leg up his and
over his hip to his waist. I hooked my foot under the cheek of his
ass and tugged at him coaxingly. "Do it to me, Daddy. Fuck me.
Fuck me."
I felt the blunt head of his turgid hugeness probing me,
searching single-mindedly for the juicy opening and the angle of
best entry. I pushed against it to let him know he had found the
slot, and I gasped when he thrust himself into me.
"Ohhhh, Daddy! Daddy . . . .."
He rolled on top of my luscious youthful body, shoving his
cock deep into me and holding it there at maximum penetration, the
entirety of it buried in his daughter's tight young yoni.
"Ohhhhh, ohhhh, my Daddy, my Daddy. I love you, Daddy." I
gripped him with my legs and wrapped my arms around him. I
squeezed his big cock with my talented cunt muscles, manipulating
it inside me, gripping it, pulling it, kneading it, pussyloving it.
"Oh, God, Trinity, my goddess, my love." He began fucking me
in long, slow strokes, our bodies coupled together inseparably in a
union older than taboo, blessed by the ages before history and
sanctified by human physiology.
And cursed by every known society, reprehensible and forbidden
in the eyes of the civilized and the savage alike from the cave to
the penthouse.
Man and woman.
Father and daughter.
The Reverend Jonathan Barrett and his lovely princess, his
goddess, his lover, the exquisite product of his loins and the
offspring of a slut, locked in sexual union that consumed us in the
presence of our everlasting Bedmate, the Lord Jesus. Faster and
faster we fucked, thrusting and writhing, hunching and sliding,
moaning and swooning. Fucking, fucking, fucking . . . ..
"Oh, oh, oh," Jonathan panted.
"I'm cumming, Daddy! Oh, oh, oh bless Jesus, blessed Jesus,
praise His holy name. Fuck me Daddy, fuck me Jesus, fuck me Jesus,
fuck me Lord Jesus, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Ohhhhh, ahhhhh,
unh, unh, oh Jesus, Jesus, unh, unh -- Unhhhhh!" I screamed and
buried my face in his neck to muffle it, biting and sucking and
thrusting and bucking and gripping and flailing him with my legs,
pounding him with my hands and fists, fucking like a lamia.
"Hallelujah!" Jonathan yelled, and his volcanic dick erupted
in the womanquake. He shot load after load of hot, male love juice
into me. Powerful, copious flash floods of cum washed the junction
of our lust and bathed us in peace-instilling glory.
We vibrated together in the embers of our subsiding, glorious
orgasms. "Bless Jesus, bless Jesus," we moaned in unison, and we
offered our worshipful and grateful praise to our heavenly Bedmate.
I let the power and the peace of the Godhead flow over me,
soothing my soul and satisfying my every need and longing. All
human anxiety and striving left me as I surrendered to Him. I felt
as though I had had sex with God, had received the pure and
powerful cum of Jesus and the filling of the Holy Ghost. I had
been released from earthly cares and transported into the divine
and restful presence of attending angels.
"Thank you, Jesus," I breathed gratefully, and I was sure I
heard His voice saying, "I love you, my daughter, my child, my
beautiful Trinity. I love you." I slept in peaceful exhaustion
and awoke with the Heavenly Host fucking me again and cumming in me
again. I slept deeply then, His arms embracing me and holding my
wonderful young body against Him.
"I love you, Trinity."
"I love you, Jesus."
He kissed the tattoo of the cross Jonathan had burned into my
flesh between my pussy and my leg, a mark of my consecration and of
the great love we have for each other.
I was one with God, His child and His bride. His rod had
comforted me, and I had brought calmness to his staff. The lover
of God. We slept together in profound mutual gratitude and
adoration.
Jonathan and Trinity.
Father and daughter.
The handsome minister of God and the beautiful bride of
Christ.
Looking back, I can't imagine how I was persuaded to conspire
against my daddy and seek to bring him down. It is time now to
relate that part of my story and introduce the woman who blinded me
for a while and turned my love for Daddy into a need for revenge.
--end Chapter 1--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 3, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 3 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
Chapter Two
Daddy kept the church off TV because he thought that sort of
thing contaminated the church in America. He said he didn't want
the church replaced by show business. Still, he was invited by
churches all over the country to lead revivals, and he travelled a
lot to promote the Jonathan Barrett Bible College. Since I had the
summer off before starting college, I went with him when he was
invited to lead a crusade in New Orleans. He had not wanted to go
because the crusade was sponsored by a consortium of churches which
always televised its campaigns for souls. Since the consortium sent
many young people to our college, though, he had agreed to do it.
My story would be radically different if he hadn't. I decided
to skip the services Sunday morning and explore the fabled city
where jazz was born and they still dance on the sidewalks. Because
I stand out in any crowd, I was soon invited to dance by a little
group jamming and jiving and preaching the gospel on a side street
in front of a row of bars. Not your standard church service.
That's where I first saw Darlene Maynard. Smiling widely,
clapping her hands to the music, a woman in her mid thirties wearing
a nondescript dress that fit her in the right places and whirlpooled
first one way and then the other around her bare legs as she swayed
and twisted to the beat, high heeled open shoes that practically
screamed fuck me, she exuded a sort of dignified lewdness that made
me nervous.
"You were great," she said when my little show was done.
"So were you. There were as many people watching you as were
watching me. Are you from around here?"
"I am right now. I'm from wherever my work takes me."
We had begun walking together as though we had continued a
stroll started earlier. People gawked at us, and it occurred to me
she was as used to it as I was.
"What kind of work do you do?" I asked her.
"I'm a whore."
My mouth fell open and I must have looked like somebody had
just jerked a hair out of my nose. She laughed. I swallowed and
regained my composure.
"I'm walking the streets of New Orleans with a prostitute."
"Don't they have any prostitutes where you're from?"
"You kidding? It's legal in some counties. I'm from Reno."
Her smile faded and she had an oddly thoughtful look for a
moment. I figured she was tossing around the prospect of
relocating to a place where she could earn a living without being
arrested for it.
"Of course it's not legal in the big gambling cities because
it would interfere with the economy," I chattered on like an
expert, "and it's all in houses instead of on the streets." I
didn't know what I was talking about, but I felt a nervous need to
pretend I wasn't thrown by her frankness.
"Houses. I'd rather work for myself."
"Don't you have a pimp?"
"I don't need one. And I don't work the streets, either.
Right now, for example, I'm working a national convention of judges
at The Fontaine."
"There's a big Christian crusade in town right now," I blurted
out, feeling stupid as soon as I did.
Her face got hard. "I don't fuck preachers." She spit the
words out bitterly, and I felt like I must have violated some moral
code in her profession.
But I held my ground. "I do."
She needed to change the subject for some private reason I was
to learn later, but I thought her next words were just an attempt
to one-up me.
"Listen, would you like to watch me work? I have a trick
meeting me in my room this morning."
"What's he going to think about my being there -- hey, listen
just a minute!"
"First of all, it's not a he, and second of all, she will pay
twice as much for the humiliation of it. You can join in or just
watch."
She had raised the stakes in the game I thought we were
playing, so I called her. "Sure, ok," I said as though it were
nothing. Big time sophisticated street person me.
Off Bourbon Street in the heart of the French Quarter stands
The Fontaine Hotel, holding its nose in ornate dignity above the
stench of street garbage and gumbo. It prides itself on its Louis
Quatorze decor and its fine cuisine, if anything that smells like
fish can be properly so called. Most of its rooms are clean. Old
clean, not the bright new clean of modern resort hotels. Slightly
musty. You know everything is clean, but you feel the history of
other people's feet on the carpet and of their bodies on the beds.
The covers have memories.
Darlene Maynard, her lewd body glistening, was making her
contribution to the room's history. She would be a part of its felt
memories for future guests. It had been a profitable convention
week for her. She had averaged half a dozen men a day -- and this
girl, daughter of a big time judge from Minneapolis. Picked her up
at the swimming pool.
Darlene's room was ten floors above the street, but the
buildings nearby created an amphitheater effect that made raucous
speech sound as though it were in the room with you. A siren
pierced straight into the brain, and a truck rattled the windows.
It was a single room. I wondered why single rooms always had two
beds as I lay on one of them, watching.
She had moved the small armchair between the beds. She was
leaning back with her ass on the edge of the chair and one foot on
each bed. Very comfortable for her and ideal for the college
freshman on her knees sucking between her legs. The large cabinet
directly in front of her opened its doors to a TV set so she
wouldn't be bored.
Sunday morning. Nothing on but preachers. Some of them were
pretty good.
Darlene touched the tender place between her leg and her
pussy. The girl swooned and nuzzled her face under Darlene's hand
and kissed with open mouth. Darlene took a drag off her cigarette
and tapped it in the ashtray on the bed. She looked down the
length of her long, lewd body at the young girl sucking between her
legs. She took a handful of the teenager's hair.
"Eat it," she snarled. She knew it turned the girl on. She
had known what the judge's daughter was all about almost as soon as
she had strolled by her at the pool, she told me.
"Suck it up. Hurry it up, Stupid. I got paying customers
waiting. Your father, for one. Hey! How 'bout your mother? I bet
she'd go for my tasty juice, wouldn't she? Wouldn't she?" she
growled as she pulled the girl's face roughly into her hot, wet
cunt.
"Umph, mumph, umm."
"Drink. Swallow it."
The girl let out a pitiable little whine, feeling Darlene's
legs while she sucked eagerly between them, moving her face in it
and swooning.
Darlene relaxed and watched her feast on female sex sweat and
cunt slime, getting it in her eyes and all over her face. She
watched the teenager wipe her face on her slick legs and slide back
down to suck up some more woman fuck. She was going to cum in the
girl's mouth, and there was no way to hold it back much longer.
Her breathing became more labored and shortly started coming in
gasps. I watched her stomach pump the air and knew she could not
control the reflexive fuck movements as old as nature itself. I
listened to her grunting groans, every breath voicing a moan of
pleasurable agony with the ineluctable approach of her orgasm.
She screamed. Her legs gripped the girl's face in a vice of
thighs and her hands clutched the girl's head. The merciless
violence of her orgasm punished the teenager's face as Darlene's
legs slammed the helpless victim of her temporary insanity. I
relived my experience with James as I watched. Her feet slammed
down on the girl's back, and she knew but could not care that she
was brutalizing the unsuspecting source of her throes of ecstasy.
It lasted forever. She had jerked herself senseless. The
girl had become a rag doll and was barely holding on to
consciousness. Darlene lifted her legs high and swung them down
hard, catapulting her out of the chair to her feet. The girl hung
on for dear life and fastened her mouth up in Darlene's cummy hole.
Near collapse, her cunt sore, and her crank case drained, Darlene
could only stand and let the girl suck. She had to catch her
breath to have the strength to shove her away.
She brought her hand down hard against the teenager's face and
heard her high-pitched grunt of pain. Again she hit her. Again,
and again. The girl loosened her bear hug from around Darlene's
hips and legs, and her face sagged in Darlene's sex pit. Darlene
pulled the teenager's head back by her hair, prying her loose, then
kneed her viciously, sending her crashing backwards to the floor.
I had to remind myself the girl had paid her to treat her this way;
I was there when she told Darlene what she wanted. I grabbed
myself between my legs and starting pumping myself slowly.
The girl lay there on the floor stunned, trying to breathe, her
eyes crossing and glazing. Darlene planted one bare foot on her
hair and the other on her face. She looked down at her and let
herself return to normal. "Play with yourself, queer," she ordered
the girl, and stood there with her foot in her face as the girl
obeyed.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 4, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 4 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
The television preacher was saying, "I feel somebody out there
in pain."
"Huh! You ain't said shit, Preacher," Darlene answered back.
She looked at the TV, refocusing her eyes, adjusting her foot on
the masturbating teenager's face.
"I feel your pain. I know your pain," the handsome blond
minister of the gospel said.
Darlene told me later she thought she was seeing things, that
the unrelenting intensity of her orgasm must have scrambled her
brains. Take away the age, and the preacher was an exact replica of
the grinning young preacher boy who had burned the symbol of
Christianity into her tender flesh almost two decades ago. History.
Memories. The brand of the cross. The laughing monster who had
burned it there while the other boys watched. Preacher boys.
A cross exactly like mine in exactly the same place, as I
would soon see, burned there by the same man.
She ground her foot into the girl's face, and her eyes shot
fire at the televised image. "It couldn't be," she whispered. She
watched. Yes. Yes, yes, yes! It was! Twenty years of hate
seethed within her as she relived the humiliation at the hands of a
boy she thought loved her as she had loved him.
She watched.
She watched Jonathan Barrett, knowing my daddy's future.
I won't take you through our shock and emotions after the girl
left. Darlene saw it first. I was still jerking off, and she
started feeling my legs. I felt her jerk back abruptly, and she
scared the shit right out of me when she screamed "NO!" at the top
of her lungs.
I got what I thought was the full story that morning and
afternoon. We sat in silence for a good part of the time, stunned
by the incredible coincidence of our meeting on a street in New
Orleans and the further unlikelihood of our ending up staring at
each others crotches in a hotel room to whose musty smell we had
added the unmistakable scent of girl funk.
But I didn't know the whole story. As stunned as I was, I
could not at that moment have been persuaded to do to Daddy what I
was later persuaded to do. That took another revelation, one that
made it impossible to pass off Daddy's branding young women as a
strange but forgivable fetish. Besides, although Darlene's
branding had been traumatic for her, I had accepted my own branding
on my eighteenth birthday as an initiation rite upon coming of age
as a woman. It is truly amazing the twists and turns a girl forces
her mind to take to keep loving her daddy.
But I did not yet know the whole story, and in my naivete I
could not have fathomed the depth of long-term hatred I would later
discover in Darlene Maynard and what such ingrained loathing can
drive people to do.
And furthest from my bewildered mind was the possibility that
fewer coincidences exist in this world than can be suspected by an
eighteen-year-old girl.
And would you believe it? I had sex with Daddy that same
night. Ah, youth. I do miss it so. Midst all that had happened,
my pussy kept its own agenda, caring not for the silly meandering
of human foibles and concerns. I had taken a mental picture of
Darlene standing in front of that college girl holding her by the
head and fucking her in the mouth. It was burned into my visual
cortex as vividly as the brand in my crotch. I pictured her legs
with their incomparable interplay of sinew and flesh, the creation
and subtle evolution of indentations and feminine mounds of muscle
as she moved.
I wanted to see myself like that, to watch my own younger and
prettier legs and my beautiful naked body create those magnificent
visual effects. I wanted to lust on myself, and I needed Daddy as
a sex object.
I sang in the choir in the evening service, and Daddy gave a
beautiful message on Mary Magdalene. He is so moving when appealing
to the downtrodden and hated members of society who are people to
him with needs and hopes and wishes just like the rest of us.
Our hotel was a total contrast from The Fontaine. Bright and
new with blond furniture, indirect lighting that could be adjusted
to any brightness you wanted, and polished mirrors that covered two
walls. Our adjacent rooms had a connecting set of doors which we
only shut when we weren't going to be there.
Daddy was in the shower, and I sat naked on the bed waiting
for him. When he came out, he was wearing a white cloth robe and
had a white towel over his head with the ends tucked into the robe
at his neck. It gave me a brilliant idea for role playing. I
pulled the blanket off the bed and draped it over my hair and slung
it dramatically around my body.
He stood there with a slight smile on his face watching me. I
positioned myself so I could see everything I needed to in the
adjoining wall-sized mirrors.
Jesus Daddy came to his Mary Magdalene daughter.
"Mary," he whispered.
"Kneel to me, Jesus."
He knelt humbly before me with his head bowed. I opened my
blanket and let it fall behind me and stood magnificently over him
looking down on him haughtily. I pulled the towel off his head and
tossed it across the room.
"Divest thyself of thy raiment and bow before me in thy
nakedness."
He did. I put my foot on the nape of his neck and beheld the
wondrous sight reflected in full in the mirror. God, I loved it!
Power and lust commingled in my womanly majesty, and my loins
stirred with devilish greediness.
"Kiss my feet, Nazarene."
He began to giggle.
"Oh, Daddy! I was really getting into it."
"I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I couldn't help it."
"I'll show you 'couldn't help it.'" I reached down and took
his face in both hands and pulled it snugly up into my crotch and
started fucking. "Eat me, Daddy. Suck it up. Drink it. Swallow
it."
I looked at us in the mirror, and that did it. I went off
like a bomb, hunching and fucking Daddy's face and mouth and
watching the whole scene. In it and watching it at the same time.
What a fantastic turn on!
"Suck me off!" I snarled just like Darlene had, and I cum in
Daddy's mouth uninhibitedly at the same time the mirror goddess cum
in her man's mouth. The mirror goddess and I communed spiritually
as we cum in our mortal slaves' hungry faces.
Then came the damndest feeling I've ever had. As the mirror
goddess and I stood in the relative calmness of afterglow, looking
at each other in curious bonding, we began to rise! Float right up
into the air! It took deliberate effort on my part to come out of
the near hallucinatory fantasy and realize Daddy was rising to his
feet with me on his face. I caught my balance and wrapped my legs
around his face and held on to his head as he walked blindly toward
the huge bed. Running his hands up my back when his knees touched
the bed, he bent over and deposited me gracefully thereon.
I released him from the head scissors, and he crawled up my
body face first, sliding through the perspiration on my belly and
stomach, pausing at my tits and sucking tenderly, and entering me
gently but firmly as our open mouths joined like perfectly fitting
suction cups of soft, moist flesh.
I smelled myself on his warm breath and tasted my woman goo in
his mouth, but it was the stuff and smell of the woman in the
mirror. I wanted her hot, wet sex in my mouth and her legs and
crotch in my face, and I sucked at Daddy's mouth gluttonously for
it as he fucked me. I cum again, and again I cum, sucking the
woman in the mirror and fucking my daddy in a glorious melange of
images and feelings, veritably transported into a surrealistic
netherworld where delusion copulates with primitive archetype. My
orgasm pervaded the universe and transcended time, place, and
dimension.
Daddy exploded inside me, his thick cream of male essence
lapped up and swallowed by my thundering, pulsating, sucking pussy.
I cum again, and lapsed gratefully into unconsciousness at the peak
of my orgasm. I could not have taken another minute of this
rampant phantasmagoria of all-consuming psychotic lust.
New Orleans had its spiritual experience, and I had mine.
Daddy and I fucked every single day and sometimes more for two
spectacular weeks. In part, I think I was trying to fuck Darlene
Maynard out of my thoughts. I did not miss another service,
either. I knew if I wasn't in church or fucking Daddy, I'd run
straight to The Fontaine Hotel, and there would be no predicting
where I'd go from there.
So I fucked and went to the crusade. Our role playing was a
riot, and we sometimes ended up rolling on the floor laughing
instead of cumming. "Can I blow your trumpet, Joshua?" That
destroyed one skit. I rode him into Egypt one night, and he rode
me in a triumphal entry into Jerusalem another. I went psychotic
again in another mind-bender when I played the Virgin Mary fucking
the Holy Ghost. I was the woman at the well and sucked him off as
payment for telling my fortune.
I won't tell you how we conducted Communion, but it wasn't
with crackers and grape juice, and our version of the Last Supper
was in the bathtub with biscuits and gravy.
But mostly we just made wonderful, unforgettable love with
each other. My Daddy. My darling, wonderful Daddy. There would
never be anyone like him.
--end Chapter 2--
[[ Cont in Trinity 5, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
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^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 5 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
Chapter Three
I was not at all certain my feelings for the sensual young
professor could be called love, but I was certain he ranked high
among the best lays I had ever had. His dark manliness contrasted
with the manly blond beauty of my father. Beauty depended on my
mood, I decided, or maybe what was available at the moment.
I sat in his office managing to keep my mind on the
conversation while still allowing myself delicious moments of
fantasy. Ricky -- Dr. Enrique Alvarez -- was a true Latin lover and
easy to fantasize. I often smiled as other girls wondered aloud
what he would be like in bed.
But right now the discussion was of a different sort, one that
made me more uncomfortable than I let on.
"Why does your father oppose your taking a major in sociology?
I've seen him on TV, and he doesn't strike me as one of those
preachers who oppose education."
"He's not. In fact, he has a master's degree in history
himself. But he is afraid I'll get exposed to ideas that will
erode my faith. He wants me to major in something safe, maybe phys
ed or something, and become a high school teacher."
"If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?"
"Crawl between your legs and swallow your cock."
I loved the way he could arch one eyebrow while giving me a
patronizing look of amusement at the same time. I loved a lot of
things he did with his face. I gave him a wide smile.
"You are a wanton freshman, Trinity Barrett. Where, I can't
help wondering, does a fundamentalist preacher's daughter develop
the talents you have in the bedroom? You do things with your pussy
muscles and throat muscles experienced seniors haven't learned."
"Preachers' kids are notorious. We learn it from the deacons'
kids. Wanna fuck?"
"What would your father say if he knew what you're really
like?"
"How do you know he doesn't?" I moved out of my chair and
crawled between his legs. "My father has a very healthy attitude
toward sex." I unzipped his pants. "He believes sex taboos are
society's inventions, not God's." I gently hauled out his already
erect cock and kissed it lovingly. "He thinks everything is ok as
long it doesn't do anybody any damage." I deep-throated him.
"Ohhh."
"Ummm."
"God. Trinity."
"Ummmmm."
I held his cock down my throat and pumped my face into his
hairy genitals. I worked my throat muscles.
"Oh, my God. I'm going to go off like a volcano. Trinity,
oh . . . Jesus God!"
My tongue felt the pulsing of his liquid on the underside of
his cock, and I pulled back enough to receive his cum in my mouth.
My mouth filled with his dick juice and I swallowed, losing as
little as possible of the powerful, copious spurts of Ricky's sperm
made by his big balls just for me. I withdrew to let him cum in my
face, and swooned at the warmth of it hitting my eyes and nose and
mouth. I licked a huge wad off my upper lip and worked it around
in my mouth before swallowing it. He spurted again and it hit me
at the hairline and trailed gooily down my forehead. He shot
another big load that splashed across my nose. I looked like I had
pushed my face into a bowl of mayonnaise.
"Holy, Christ, woman, how did you grow up to be so good?"
"Good parental guidance."
* * * * *
"Why does that waitress keep staring at me?" I said to Ricky.
"I wish she'd stare at me. Maybe she goes for goddesses
instead of gods."
"We sure are a humble pair, aren't we?"
I was used to being looked at. Men looked at me in
appreciation and perhaps longing. Women looked at me in evaluation
and were disappointed to find everything to envy and nothing to
criticize. But the new waitress at the College Union Coffee Shop
seemed to look with no discernable motive. There was appreciation
but not exactly craving. Curiosity, sort of. Evaluation without
judgement. Her name tag said Christina.
"I've seen her somewhere before."
"Very likely," Ricky said with a smile. "She sits almost
directly behind you in my Intro class."
I felt foolish. I had nearly started a fantasy about the
mysterious, sensual young woman.
"My my, sweet Trinity, I believe your face is red. What must
have been going through that mind of yours? Certainly not this
report we are ostensibly working on."
"Oh, sure, you can be cool and relaxed. You just cum all over
yourself. What about me?"
"I just cum all over you too."
"I sit corrected. And still horny. Here she comes with the
coffee pot again. She's jealous. She wants you."
"Maybe she wants both of us."
"I don't do women. I can't figure out what to do with another
woman. They're too soft and pliable. I'd be afraid I'd break her.
I want a hard cock on a hard body ramming me and cumming in me. I
want ------"
"Coffee?" Christina asked.
"Right," I said with an impish smile.
The woman's hands were graceful, her arms lovely, her body
sensual. When she reached across me to pour the coffee, there was
the hint of honeysuckle in her raven hair. Sensual? Yes, but
close to lewd in spite of her beauty and grace.
Damn you, Ricky, I thought. You left me so fucking horny I'm
getting turned on by a goddamned woman! My senses were aflame with
desire. If it went on much longer, I'd be making a grab for the
woman.
Christina smiled, her eyes answering yes to unspoken pleas,
her lips moist with an invitation to lust. I imagined I could feel
heat emanating from the woman's sexy body. Christina cocked her
head, her beautiful face a tempting question mark. I tore my gaze
away and studied the napkin holder. I looked back in time to see
Christina cat-walking away.
"Whew!" Ricky said in amazement. "I've never seen so
electrifying a connection between two people in my life! What in
the world was going on there?"
I leveled fiery eyes at him and spoke through clenched teeth:
"Alvarez, you dirty son of a bitch. You take me somewhere and fuck
me, and I mean now!"
* * * * *
He slammed himself against my exquisite ass as his meat
penetrated the soul of my vagina. I felt it deep inside, thrusting
and probing and pounding and satisfying. I went up on my tiptoes
and clutched the bed covers in my fists. I ground my softly firm
young buttocks back against him to take all of his big rock-hard
cock. My body was not my own. It belonged solely to the man
plunging his god cock into me. My moans sounded like they came from
someone else.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 6, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
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wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 6 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
"Fuck me, use me, make me know I am Woman and you are Man.
Ohh, Ricky, Ricky."
"Take it good, baby, take it all. Feel my power. Feel my
manliness slam-fucking you. Take it, take it, take it, you
beautiful, cum swallowing Goddess of Lust. Take me in."
"Ram it to me, Ricky. Be my master. Use me. Ohhh, Ricky,
fuck me to death."
"You're my dick slave. I'm using you. I'm going to cum in
you. Ohhh, God, Trinity, God, God, God damn you!" His
vocalizations then became a long series of grunts, growls, and
moans, culminating in a Morse code of panting gasps.
His emphatic and bountiful cum squirting into me sent me into
sexual hysteria, and I matched his near loss of control with my
own. He had to hold tight to keep from losing me. I screamed and
thrashed in my seizure of orgasmic frenzy, squishing and squashing
his organ of my ecstacy deep into me, feeling it consume and fill
me simultaneously.
We collapsed forward on the bed, his cock ramming and jamming
me continuously, my body now in spasms as the two-celled animal we
were went temporarily insane, writhing, thrashing, plunging,
thrusting, kicking, moaning and wailing in the little death of
orgasm.
We lay coupled together in complete sexual union, panting and
gasping our way back to normalcy, our bodies spent, our minds
awhirl, our limbs weak. At last the peace of exhaustion came and
gave way to tranquil sleep.
The unconscious is not so readily satisfied, nor is it quite
so kind to our pretense of convention and propriety. It designed a
dream exposing the desire I had tried to avoid when awake. The
latent content of the dream was more disturbing than its manifest
content and would leave me curious and unsettled upon awakening.
I dreamed Ricky had left for class and I had showered and was
lounging on the bed in his apartment. Oddly, I heard the shower
running. The dream changed to my father's large bedroom, but it
was not my father in the shower. It was my mother, the mother I
had never seen, not even in a picture.
The shower stopped and directly my mother came through the
door toweling her long, raven hair, her face hidden by the towel.
Her body was beautiful and sexy, and I lay naked on the bed waiting
to see my mother's face. I had a feeling I almost knew what she
looked like, but I could not quite picture her features. I waited,
letting my eyes roam freely over the wonderfully inviting nakedness
of my mother. She had a cross in the same tender place I did,
proof we loved the same man.
"Dry my hair for me, Sweetheart, will you?"
I scooted to the edge of the bed and my mother, face still
hidden from sight, kneeled between my legs to let me towel her hair
dry. I rubbed slowly, both of us knowing what was really
happening. My mother nuzzled her face in my soft, beautiful legs,
feeling them, kissing them, worshipping them. I tossed the towel
away and held my mother by the head as she kissed. I tried to pull
her face up, but the dream force would not allow it. I parted my
legs and let her slide her face between them, keeping them against
her face all the way to the wonderful goal of soft, young, fresh
pussy waiting eagerly for her mouth to titillate it and satisfy it.
My mother's mouth was warm on my responsive cunt, and her hands
roamed slowly and caressingly over my legs. I lay back on my
elbows to watch, hoping to see my mother's face, but I could not.
I pressed my legs against her face, then wrapped them around her
head and rested my feet on her back. I rocked my mother's face in
the cradle of my womanhood, feeling myself juicing up and my body
heat rising. I was finding it necessary to take deeper breaths.
I began admiring my own naked beauty. My large, firm,
youthful breasts rose and fell. My flat stomach with ripples and
shallows in perfect places was sensual and lustworthy. My
beautiful legs displayed an exquisite interplay of muscle and flesh
that made me drool. I had noticed my mother was similarly built,
and I was grateful for my genes. Was her face also beautiful? Why
this frustration of not being able to see?
Female sexual intensity, caring not for the weal and woe of
aught but its pleasure, followed its course without regard to my
other needs. My cunt was full of woman juice manufactured by my
young body at the insistence of my mother's face and mouth. My
stomach was pumping and my breasts were heaving. I could not hold
still. My thrashing made it hard for my mother to service me. I
needed more leverage. I needed to fuck face uninhibitedly.
Holding my mother by the face, I pushed myself off the bed and
turned the two of us around so my mother was sitting on the floor
with her head back on the edge of the bed. I humped her that way
for a minute or two, enjoying the sight and feel of sweat on my
hunching, glistening body, then pulled her farther onto the bed and
climbed on her still-unseen face.
At last my position and hold were perfect, and I hunched and
lurched to my pussy's content in my mother's mouth, sitting full on
her face, the dream allowing a vigor that would have left a
toothless woman under me in reality.
There was a flood of release the likes of which few women have
known except in their dreams. My body seemed to release all its
tensions at once, and I sagged over my mother and let her slurp up
the slime and sweat and goo of spent and satisfied womanhood. I
sagged forward, my cummy cunt still in my mother's face, and lay
slumped over her in exhaustion.
When I startled awake, however, reality was quite different.
My legs were strangling a large pillow, and I was anything but
sexually satiated. I hunched the pillow and grabbed myself between
my legs and masturbated until the intensity subsided without orgasm
and without the comforting feeling of having had sex.
That son of a bitch Alvarez had left me there in his apartment
and disappeared. Twice in one day. I resolved to use him the next
chance I got and leave him laying there with a hard-on. Yeah,
right. That'll be the day.
But if I could have that dream come true, it would be worth
all the Ricky's in the world to me. If I could see my mother's
face . . ..
In the meantime, my dream had left me needy, and there was
only one completely fulfilling sex partner. Daddy. Any time spent
with Daddy returned perspective and stability to me. Sex with
Daddy was immeasurable icing on the cake.
Imagine having a dream about having sex with my own mother! I
thought. That's what I got for staying too long away from Daddy's
magnificent body and his sensitivity to my needs in bed and out.
And that waitress, Christina, with her sexy body and sensuous
attitude. She had practically seduced me right there in the
College Union. She had made me think thoughts and feel feelings
that bothered me.
But it would be okay as soon as I got home to Daddy. He would
prove I wasn't a lesbian, and I would prove we were meant for each
other like no other couple had been since the Garden of Eden. Then
I'd forget this strange reaction to another woman . . . this
strange, wonderful and frightening reaction to another woman . . .
and the dream. Still, deep inside me, I knew the dream would
someday come true. I had no idea my wish was in the process of
being fulfilled.
--end Chapter 3--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 7, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
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@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 7 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty
Chapter Four
"There were a lot of good papers I want to follow up on,"
Ricky Alvarez had said to his Intro Sociology class. He had
gone on to ask several students to make appointments with him.
He had asked Christina and me to meet with him at the same
time.
"Your papers were both excellent presentations on the
sociology of women in America. But you take quite different
points of view, and I think it would be valuable to see them
together. I really believe it would result in a publication,
maybe in a national journal or even a magazine that would pay
you for it."
So the three of us had met briefly after class, and
Christina had offered her apartment for an evening planning
session. I was there, and of course Christina was there.
But no Alvarez.
"I wonder what's keeping Ricky," I said as I sipped my
second glass of wine in Christina's comfortable apartment. I
felt warm and tingly. The conversation had been surface stuff
up to now, but there was an undercurrent between us on the
sofa. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was Christina's bare
legs flashing from time to time beneath her flowing fuchsia
skirt. Maybe it was the hint of honeysuckle that wafted by
when she moved.
"Oh, he called and said he'd be along later," Christina
said in her boudoir velvet voice. "Car trouble. He said we
should get to know each other and share points of view about
women . . . and sex."
All according to plan, I learned later. It wouldn't
matter if I saw through the setup. Christina had read me
correctly, with that bastard Alvarez's help, and they knew we
would be sliding around on each other's luscious bodies before
the evening was too far along.
Well, I had gotten to where I could read minds pretty
accurately, and her lingering looks at my cleavage announced
her thoughts: I want to suck those beautiful young breasts.
I knew exactly what I was thinking, too: I want to plant
my lips on that perfect thigh.
"Trinity, your paper was really fascinating. The
relationship you describe between women and religion and
between women and sex made them sound like the same thing.
I've never thought of religion as sexy. Maybe sex as religion
but not the other way around. In fact, I've always thought
religion oppresses sex and women."
"It does. That's why the sexuality of worship, at least
in Western history, comes out in disguised form. You can see
it more clearly in less sophisticated churches where ecstacy
is emphasized. I see it every Sunday. Women clutching their
breasts, going into orbit, rolling on the floor and jerking in
paroxysm. They're having a wild orgasm but nobody admits it.
My daddy's an expert at building them up to that point and
then bringing them all the way home."
"You mean his sermons are foreplay and their spiritual
ecstacy is an orgasm? Wow, I need to go to your church! But
that's hypocrisy, isn't it?"
"Not really. They really believe they're possessed by
the Spirit when that happens. The women don't recognize
they're having orgasms, you see. Most of them don't know what
an orgasm feels like. They're being filled with the Holy
Ghost. God Himself is in them, consuming them. The physical
entry of God Almighty into a frail human body is powerful.
The indwelling of the Holy Spirit is all-consuming. When
Jesus enters you and you surrender to Him, you are taken out
of ordinary realms and lifted up in rapture. Listen to them
talk as they're going up and coming down: it sounds exactly
like they're making love to Jesus."
"Making love with Trinity sounds great." She smiled
slyly.
There's something in me that compels me to prove I'm
unflappable. I have to call people's bluff, and I can't be
the first one to back down when something starts. Besides, it
was time to stop tiptoeing around what I knew both our pussies
wanted.
But I had been fighting lately to convince myself I was
straight. Kinky as hell, yes, and uninhibited, no doubt, but
all my experience was heterosexual. Except for some fantasies
like the mirror goddess and a dream about my unknown mother.
And some thoughts I'd had this evening about Christina.
"I didn't mean to throw you, Trinity. I was just being
cute. Sorry." She was still being cute. She said it in that
phone-sex voice with that luscious mouth, and her whole
presentation was the picture of female sensuality. That
exposed thigh was a magnet with extraordinary force fields.
"I've never had sex with a woman, Christina. Besides,
there aren't enough of us here to make a Trinity to fuck you
with."
I jumped like I was shot when Alvarez spoke. He had
slipped in behind me on little Spanish cat feet.
"God the Father is here," he announced.
My drink went all over me and the couch and Christina.
"Alvarez, you goddamned son of a bitch!" I screamed. I turned
around with full intentions of throwing my glass at his head,
but I confronted a sight that stopped me cold.
He was standing there with his cock out, fully erect. I
sat frozen in my twisted position with my glass drawn back
like a baseball pitcher, staring at the mighty baton like I'd
never seen one before. I saw the setup and didn't care, just
as they had known I wouldn't. Alvarez knew I had never been
with a woman, and they wanted a three-way with me. Christina
was to soften me up with wine and seduce me, and Ricky was to
join us when she had taken me beyond my ability to resist.
The horny Latin had been listening and couldn't wait any
longer. Cocks are not as patient as cunts.
In truth, I've never been so relieved to see a dork in my
life. I was about to have sex with a woman, and I was
struggling hard over what that said about me. Alvarez knew
all about my conflict from our conversations and had come up
with a solution to ease me into what I wanted ? and ease his
lusty probe into my equally lusty body.
I felt Christina remove the glass from my hand. I felt
her hand on the back of my head, pushing lightly as Ricky
moved close. I opened my mouth gratefully, and she pushed me
down over Ricky's insistent tube of meat. I engulfed it, and
Christina forced my face clear down to the base of it. I felt
her straddle my rib cage, and she took my head in both hands
and pumped me slowly up and down over Ricky. One hand snaked
its way around to my face and enhanced my oral pleasure with
feminine soft fingers on my mouth. She had me surrounded with
hands and legs, one hand bracing my head and the other holding
Ricky's thick cock in my mouth as he slid it in and out. I
loved both, her soft hand with its special firmness and his
hard prick with its unique suppleness. Hard and soft at the
same time, forceful and gentle at once, simultaneously
masculine and feminine, concurrently using me and gratifying
me. Male and female made He them, and delivered me unto them
for their pleasure and my oral delight.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 8, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
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@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 8
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, and even some normal stuff.
The weight of Christina's body on me and the pressure of her
legs against me multiplied my sense of subjugation and surrender to
them, and Ricky's rhythmic male thrusting in and out of my open and
receptively wet mouth completed the strong undertone of abject
submission to man and woman, god and goddess. I was theirs in body
and soul and would do anything they wanted. They owned me. They
could do anything to me they pleased, and I would only love them the
more for it.
Christina removed her hands, and I whined my objection before I
realized she was pulling her dress over her head. Her hands returned
and griped my head and face and pulled me off Ricky and turned me
around. I was a thing she could do with as she chose. She had
already pulled my dress over my hips while I blowing Ricky, so
sliding it over my head was accomplished with such an expert
facility that I barely knew she had it off me. Ricky had gone
around the couch, and he took me by the feet and pulled me farther
under Christina. My mouth literally watered as I looked in
amazement upon the beautiful body of the woman straddling my tits.
She sat erect, pridefully, knowing my need to lust on her stomach
and belly and full breasts.
"Fuck her mouth," Ricky told her. "Sit full on her beautiful
face and hunch her in the mouth."
She looked down on me with a lecherous contempt and moved up on
my chest. She opened my mouth for me as though I would not have
cooperated. Wider. She stretched my mouth with her woman hands and
forced her knuckles into my mouth.
"Suck my fist," she hissed, and I distorted my mouth to take
it. I could see she was using her other hand to get her hairy pussy
ready, and I was eager to taste her, to imbibe her female essence,
to drink from my goddess.
Ricky had spread my legs and positioned himself for the great
male thrust. He shoved into me all the way and held it there
powerfully. I tried to gasp but I gagged on Christina's fist. She
slid her knuckles out and pushed on my mouth with her fist.
"Hit me, Christina," I begged. "Hurt me, Goddess, hit me,
please. Punish my face with your woman fists."
I can't imagine what had come over me. Fortunately for me,
Christina understood it was the idea and not the reality that is
sexy, so she roughly pushed my face back and forth with her fists.
"She loves it, Ricky; look at her. I'm going to fuck your
cuntsucking mouth, queer girl." She held me by the hair and
actually did hit me with her open hand but not hard enough even to
jar me. Then she backhanded me the same way.
"Oh, Christ, I love this idea. Look at this beauty, Ricky.
She's loving what I'm doing to her." Then to me, "I'm going to make
you suck up inside of me, slave." She moved onto my face, settling
comfortably down on it with her soft legs covering my face and her
now drippy cunt full of woman fuck in my wide open mouth. She may
not have wanted to hit me, but she didn't mind taking my face like
she was riding a fast pony. I squeezed my dominant goddess's legs
and sucked and sucked and sucked and sucked as hard and as nastily
as I knew how.
Ricky was fucking me like he'd never get another chance. My
mind dashed back and forth between the woman on my face and the
thorough reaming Ricky was giving my plumbing with his giant
snorkel. He varied his strokes between whole body movement which
penetrated me deeply and faster pelvic hunch- dancing which
stimulated my insides. He started taking strokes so long that he
actually withdrew and re-entered me. He gave me the stroke he called
his Latin rhythm stroke, short fast ones interspersed with deep
powerful ones. He had perfected several varieties, and he was
alternating between them now. When my mind was down there, I could
match the rhythm perfectly. The Mexican Hat Dance is easier than
you might think, but Malaguena takes some well-timed vibrating.
I wanted the soft-hard probing of my insides never to stop and
the firm-mush using of my face to go on forever. I'm not the type
to adopt it on a permanent basis, but being a submissive woman was
wonderful. When my mouth got tired and I couldn't hunch, I just lay
there and let them use me until I regained the strength to serve my
master and mistress more actively.
"Lick around up inside my body," Christina was saying.
"Unh, unh, hunh, ahh, ohh, unh," Ricky explained.
"Unh, slurp, mumph, slurp," I pointed out.
"I'm going to cum all over your pussyloving face."
"I'm cumming in her already. Ooooooooo." He began vibrating
so fast I couldn't keep up. I just hunched upward once and stayed
there letting his lightning strike me and his flood wash through my
gorge.
"I want to cum in her eyes," Christina announced and covered me
completely when she released herself in my face. "Here it comes,
baby -- Ahhhhhhh."
Ricky continued to slide his greased pole in and out of my
hungry pussy with slowly diminishing involuntary jerks ordered by
his spinal cord. Christina got into sliding around in her own slime
on my well-used and gooey face.
Ricky collapsed diagonally across me to keep from busting his
nose on Christina's backbone, and I felt that odd sensation of his
shrinking schlong crawling out of me like a tired python.
Christina was suffering fatigue but couldn't seem to stop. Her
brain was obviously fried but still trying to function. "Gooey,
gooey, gooey, nasty woman fuck slime sucky pussy slavery slobber
swallow wallow." Then a brief moment of near lucidity before she
slumped forward and lay still on my face: "Drink my woman fuck,
slave."
When they were done with me, I was done with me, and I drifted
into the deepest, sweetest, most peaceful sleep I had ever known.
Lying submissively under two naked bodies, free of all stress, I was
entirely satisfied in the unpressured peace of my total passivity.
The setup for this m?nage ? trois and introduction to
bisexuality was already obvious before the three of us discussed it
openly afterwards. They weren't sure which of them had the idea
first, but I figured it was born in the ever-vigilant-to-get-laid
mind of our concupiscent professor of sociology, Dr. Enrique
Dicklust Alvarez.
Wrong. The setup was, in fact, Scene Two of a play whose plot
had been hatched and whose first scene was staged not in Reno but in
New Orleans. Ricky wasn't even supposed to show up. He thought the
plan was just so Christina could seduce me for her own pleasures,
but he got horny thinking about it and crashed the party.
Ricky was only an oblivious foil for a much more sophisticated
schemer and planner driven by ugly memories boiling in a cauldron of
resentment and seasoned for eighteen years with profound female
hatred. No man can be quite so devious and persevering a planner as
a woman whose love and trust is unconscionably violated. No male
can match the willingness of a woman to use every possible resource
in bringing down an enemy, even if that resource has to be developed
over a twenty-year period.
That night I was to learn more about the dark side of human
nature than I could ever have conceived possible. Not the most
vivid of grim preachers who pass through some fundamentalist
churches had ever described in their endless recounting of human
depravity a loathing so intensely held for so long that it would
cause a mother consciously to brainwash her own daughter into
readying herself for enlistment in the service of her mother's
vengeance.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 9, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
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@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 9
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
I came to in a bed, still groggy. Christina was sitting
across the room smoking a cigarette and watching me. She was
wearing a shorty black lace nightie, and when she catwalked
slinkily toward me, I thought the role-playing with me as sex
slave was still the only game. I was still into it, so that
was ok with me. She stopped at the bed and stood looking down
at me, weight on one foot, cigarette dangling, arms akimbo.
"Where's Ricky?" I asked sleepily.
"He had to go home." She reached for the phone on the
nightstand beside her.
"What time is it? Daddy doesn't know where I am."
She handed me the phone and started dialing. "I'm
calling him now. Tell him where you are and that you're
staying over with me tonight. You don't want your daddy
seeing your face tonight. It's been used."
I did as I was told. A game is a game, and I couldn't
just walk out on it, especially with her taste still in my
mouth and those long shapely legs contrasting with that black
nightie. It did flash across my awakening brain that I was
getting too deep in my role, enjoying too much the placid lack
of responsibility in slavery and having thought and choice
obviated. But the joy of slavery was that I didn't have to
care or think about it. Christina was in charge.
Daddy was disappointed but said ok.
Christina took the phone and placed it back in its
cradle. Her attitude was perfect.
And I had it all wrong. Totally, completely wrong. I
lay there looking up at her, and she stood there looking down
at me.
"I'm going to show you something, Trinity, and it's going
to shock you. You were supposed to see it earlier, but you
were too busy."
She raised her leg and placed her foot on the bed beside
my face. It took me awhile to see what she was talking about.
When I saw it, I gasped and held my breath in confused horror.
The cross! Burned into the tender flesh between her leg and
her vulva, the cross. Just like mine. Just like the woman
Darlene in New Orleans.
My spirit returned and my fire with it. "Just who the
gaddamned hell are you and what are you trying to pull? You
saw it on me and painted one on yourself. You and that
fucking Alvarez! Well, let me tell me you, it's not funny."
From the doorway behind me came another voice: "No, it is
not funny, Trinity."
I jerked around, ready to fight anything that came my
way, but I wasn't ready for what I met.
"Darlene Maynard, remember?" She came over to the bed
and placed her foot up on it, pulling her flowing dress over
her waist as she did. I stared at the cross.
"Remember?" she repeated.
I lay there between two beautiful women showing me their
crotches and crosses. What I said next was the only rational
analysis I had made all evening.
"This is bizarre. Who the fuck are you people and what
do you want?
"I'm your mother," Darlene said.
"I'm your sister," Christina said.
"You're both full of shit, too, if you think you can
extort money from my daddy with a couple of cheap tattoos.
Oh, I see. You think you can blackmail him because of what I
did tonight. You took pictures didn't you, Christina? A
video camera somewhere, right? It won't work. I'll go to the
cops and newspapers myself and blow the lid off your little
racket."
"You're not going anywhere until you shut up and hear
what we have to say," Christina threatened.
"Kidnapping? Is that it? Are you serious? I'll kick
both your asses and drag you out of here by your cunts!
That's after I rip those crosses out of your crotches." I
leaped forward and bounded stark naked off the foot of the
bed. There was an umbrella leaning against the wall and the
chest of drawers. I grabbed it and charged Darlene.
She covered her head and waited for the blow. I stood
over her with the umbrella poised to strike, but I couldn't
hit her, cowed down like that as she was. Besides, I was in
full command of the room then and didn't need to. Christina
was out of it. She was standing on the other side of the bed
clasping her mouth with both hands, her eyes filled with
terror.
I took Darlene by the hair and forced her down, then
knee-walked her around to the foot of the bed where there was
more room. I pushed her to the floor.
"Sit," I ordered her. I pointed to Christina who was
still frozen with fear. "You. Sit." I pointed to the floor
where her mother was. She obeyed, never taking her hands away
from her mouth or her protective arms away from her breasts.
"Now tell me who you are," I commanded Darlene, "before
I get a little vexed."
She looked up at me at smiled! The damn woman smiled!
"If I had been like you when I was your age, Jonathan
wouldn't have dared to do what he did. You are magnificent!
You're also very naked, which makes it a little hard to
concentrate. No, we're not here to extort or blackmail or
kidnap. Won't you please listen to what we have to tell you?"
"What've I got to lose? Talk." I pulled a chair over in
front of them and sat down, crossing my legs and dangling my
foot near Darlene's face.
"This is very awkward," she said. "Could we ------"
"Talk," I said.
They did, and I listened.
Within an hour, I was a believer. We continued over
coffee in the living room, fully dressed, and I joined a quest
to bring down an ogre who preys on young women and spends his
life in a lie by which the three of us had been inexpiably
violated and debased.
And not we only. My mother and sister had been
collecting data on the Reverend Jonathan Barrett for the last
two years. They showed me newspaper articles from around the
country about an unidentified man whom the papers described as
"tall, handsome, and possibly associated with religion in some
way." They had photographs, not very good ones but still
convincing, taken by a private detective and even a dark and
scratched up video tape showing my Daddy, my one true love and
lover, taking turns on a woman with three other men. It was
ugly. They laughed at her and threw money on her when they
were done. Mother said the woman was a professional and had
played the same scene with Daddy and his friends several
times, but I was revulsed.
Daddy never knew about Christina. She was born two years
before I was, and Daddy arranged for an abortion. But Mother
had the baby and put her up for adoption. Incredibly, she
went back to Daddy who continued to use her for sex and
pretend he loved her. He knocked her up again. This time she
stood her ground and insisted he marry her. She had me soon
after that. They had been married about a year when the
cross-burning thing was done to her. She ran away and spent
years in one jail or another or one whore house or another or
with one pimp or another.
Christina had tracked her down a little over two years
ago, sobered her up, and gave her a reason to live: vengeance
on my father. When they followed him to New Orleans and saw
me for the first time, they decided it was time to stop
planning and preparing and start the process of slowly
reducing Daddy to the sewer he belonged in.
They did a thorough job, and I hated him. I hated him so
much, I missed the meaning of their self-satisfying nod to
each other when they didn't realize I could see them in a
mirror in the living room.
--end of Chapter 4--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 10, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 10
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
Chapter Five
Years earlier, Calvary Hill Tabernacle had built an apartment
complex close to Pyramid Lake, beautifully laid out and well
maintained. It served as temporary housing for the homeless,
lodging for visiting dignitaries and their families, and quarters
for folks attending conferences at the church and the Jonathan
Barrett Bible College.
One suite of rooms, now unused, had been set aside and fully
equipped for a counseling center. I arranged for my mother, whom I
still called Darlene, and Christina to live in those unused rooms.
Two rooms in that section were separated by a small room designed to
allow students to view counseling sessions through one-way mirrors.
These two rooms became bedrooms for Darlene and Christina.
Phase One. Phase Two was to start fucking everybody in Daddy's
church and college and to do it on church property. We had planned
to start small, maybe just a bus driver or an unknown Sunday School
teacher, but we got lucky right away. Darlene showed up at church
one Sunday, anonymous among thousands, and the man who greeted her
at the door and struck up a conversation was none other than the
head deacon, Freddy Moreland. Friendly little name, friendly big
Christian cock. Nice and clean. Non-smoker.
She had him in three Sundays. Men are men no matter who they
are or what they do or what they believe. The purest souls can be
dragged through life by their cocks if the right woman comes along
who knows how.
Christina and I watched them through the one-way mirror in our
sound-proof little room. Darlene wrapped her legs around Freddy's
and hooked her ankles behind his knees. She was sure the missionary
position was the only one he was used to. Why he'd pay to do
exactly the same thing he probably did with Edna, his wife, was
beyond me. Darlene said most men came to her for that, though, and
that it really was the best of all positions. I agreed. It
provided full body contact, kissing, fucking, hugging. Great
position. I'm just glad it's not the only one possible for humans.
"Give it to me good," Darlene coaxed Freddy. "Run that big
powerful cock in and out of me. I want to feel your cum washing my
insides. Oh, I need it so bad."
Freddy wasn't a talker. He was a listener who needed the words
from her to make his sin nastier than it was. Someday when he
confessed his transgression -- not too soon, we hoped -- he would not
have to exaggerate it to match someone else's story of how the devil
got him through a harlot. Stupid turd. He didn't know the half of
nastiness he would engage in by the time we had him fully addicted.
Darlene loved the feel of a man on her. Two naked bodies,
fucking organisms, holding flesh against flesh and kissing each
other lasciviously at the same time he power-fucked her cunt was
unmatched by any other position. Darlene said she had seldom found
it necessary to fake anything in sex. She loved it all, and she
would do it all. If it also paid the bills and advanced her
purpose, so much the better, but she would do it just for sex.
"When the mood strikes her, she'll do it with women too,"
Christina whispered to me. "Funny how the mood always strikes when
the money is right, but it also strikes when the woman is right."
Women too. The only woman I had ever had was sitting right
beside me drinking a beer, and I shuddered at what Daddy's church
and school were in for. This was going to be a ministry that went
down in history. The news media would have a blast. We would make
sure there was a heavy cover-up to be exposed, too; for some reason
cover-ups are always found to be more reprehensible than immorality,
especially when money and sex are both involved.
Yeah, we would do the women too. Get them all addicted. Turn
the Christian girls into cunt suckers.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Darlene whispered coarsely to
Freddy.
Silence from the head deacon except for his heavy breathing and
little grunts and moans.
"Oh, fuck me good. I love it, I love it. You're so big, so
good, so good, so powerful. Ohhhhh, fuck me." Her voice was low
and velvety textured. Too much would turn him off, and too little
would not be dirty enough for him. He would need lots of guilt and
an overwhelming conflict with lust -- and lust would win as always
and intensify itself and his shame.
"Use me, use me."
That did it. Properly timed and expertly executed, it
petitions every attribute of maleness. Freddy gasped and his body
lurched involuntarily. He shot a big load up into her, and she
gasped and hunched involuntarily herself. Jesus, he really was
good! Most guys in their forties don't cum that much. Poor man
must have gone without pussy for a while. He must not even jack
off. Onanism, one of those esoteric words for flonging your dong,
is thought by some fundamentalists to be a sin; the word comes from
the Biblical story of Onan who was required by Mosaic law to fuck
his dead brother's wife. Instead, he "spilled his seed upon the
ground," and God struck him dead. Wow. And little boys today are
just afraid they'll go blind or grow a hair in their palm.
"Oh, God, it's good. Fuck me, use me, screw me, screw me,
screw me." Darlene wasn't faking anything. She tightened her grip
at the point of orgasm, and it hit her before she had time to
prepare for it. Her scream started at low pitch and volume and rose
to what would have been siren strength if Freddy had not cupped his
hand over her mouth. He kept cumming in her and cumming in her and
fucking her, and she kept jerking and cumming and gasping and
moaning.
He was spent before she was, but his cock stayed hard long
enough for her to get all she needed. She coasted down, jerking
spastically under him until he could not hold his weight up any
longer and buried her beneath him. Still she jerked, even when his
cock began to soften and slide slowly out of her. She gripped him
with her legs and arms and buried her face in his neck for one last
lurching hunch or two, finally eased of her need and satisfied.
"Oh, God forgive me," he whined.
Turd. Why do guilt and remorse always wait until after orgasm?
He was anything but paralyzed by it before, why now? Fuck first, pay
for it in guilt later. The cock's religion. For the Freddies of
this world, it takes precedence over everything but getting caught.
"Preachers are all alike," Christina observed contemptuously.
No. I knew better. Daddy wasn't like that. He wasn't like
that with me. We always had healthy sex with no undercurrent of
shame and no guilty recriminations afterward. In an entirely
different way, apparently Daddy had had no shame after fucking and
degrading Darlene, either.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 11, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 11
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
"No matter," Christina continued. "It's only the deacon's
first time with her. He'll overcome his guilt and be back again.
And again and again. When I get in on the action, I'll have him
begging to eat cunt. Christians like to beg. They need humiliation
and punishment. No problem. We'll satisfy their every need and
longing, as the old song goes."
She was right -- except for Daddy. Were those pictures really
of him? It could have been any tall blond man. And the videotape
was too scratched up and dark for me to be really sure it was Daddy.
This is a helluva time to start doubting, I thought. Why would they
go to all this trouble if what they said were not true? Nonsense,
little girl. You're just still in love with your daddy.
I bolted from my doubts by forcing a statement reconfirming my
dedication. "We ought to start on the choir next. Christ, the
whole world of Christendom will lie prostrate before us. Go through
the deacons, the preacher-boy students, the administrators, the
faculty, their wives and daughters and sons."
"Let them sacrifice their firstborn to your crotch," Christina
said with the evil smile of a leering demon.
Freddy's face was buried in Darlene's neck. She looked at the
mirror behind which she knew we were watching, and waved at us with
a big smile. She couldn't restrain chuckling. Freddy thought she
was crying and begged her forgiveness.
Stupid turd.
* * * * *
Freddy Moreland, Jr., the deacon's kid everybody called Junior,
was the Youth Pastor at Calvary Hill Tabernacle. He showed up at
our little whorehouse door one day a few minutes after his father
had left. He asked to see Darlene, but Christina told him Darlene
was resting and took him into her chambers. I retired to my cubby
hole behind the mirrors, this time with a video camera we had taken
from the counseling lab and set up permanently in the mirror room.
Junior was a very sincere and straightforward young man, but
obviously out of his depth in dealing with the situation. He
introduced himself and asked when Darlene would be available. I had
already told Christina who he was and had said I didn't think he was
susceptible to corruption. She took it, naturally, as a challenge.
After she explained that she knew all about his father and her
mother, he frankly stated his purpose to her. His mother was
worried about his father. She was afraid he was seeing another
woman.
"So you followed him here, and sure enough."
"He's hurt her before like this, Miss Maynard. I don't want to
see her go through that again. Dad has this weakness, and the Devil
uses women like you against him."
"I'm honored."
"I want to appeal to you to stop it. If you need help, I'll
pray with you. Jesus can deliver you."
"Apparently, Jesus is too busy to deliver his own saints, let
alone one of the Devil's helpers."
"Miss Maynard ------"
"Call me Christina. It's cozier . . . Junior."
"Miss Maynard, what can I say that will appeal to your innate
sense of decency and goodness? What will it take to get you to
leave my father alone?"
"Give us money and get us somebody else to use."
Junior was visibly shaken. "Dad's having sex with you, too?
Your mother and you both? He paying you?"
"Dad's not only paying me, he's satisfying me sexually. You'll
have to come up with something better than salvation to beat that."
"I'm afraid I don't know many whoremongers, Miss Maynard."
"Sure you do. Your church is full of them. As Youth Pastor,
you know a lot of secrets of a lot of people who have sex problems
only a safe woman can solve. That's why people come to women like
me. No complications, complete confidentiality, and no necessary
guilt. It's an obvious solution for most of your problem people.
You might even want to sample it yourself."
They looked at each other. His eyes searched hers as though
trying to read beyond them.
"There's no catch, Junior. It's just service for a fee. Just
like your job only more effective and more to the point."
"Are you really that hard, Miss Maynard?"
"Oh, I assure you I'm nowhere near as hard as you Christians.
I just don't have the elaborate system of self-justification you
people have. I state it simply without all the pretense at some
other motivation for my business."
"You're very intelligent . . . and very beautiful." His eyes
widened in alarm at his own remark. He took a deep breath and
looked away. "For my own sake and for the sake of my soul, Miss
Maynard, I'm afraid I'll have to leave now."
And he did. That same week, the elder Freddy Moreland was
introduced to three-way sex with Darlene and Christina. They fucked
him four times that week, leaving his lips blue the last time from
Christina's facefucking session.
Junior called one afternoon and asked to see her. He came in
without a word and sat on the sofa. Christina sat at the other end,
wearing a grass-green chiffon robe that barely did the job of
concealing her. She lounged back against the arm of the sofa with
her feet on the coffee table. Her previous client, the kinky choir
director with the nice buns, had given her a pedicure, and she was
pleased to show her pretty feet.
He held out a handful of twenties. She looked at them, then at
him, coquettishly, nodding to the coffee table. He laid the money
at her feet.
"I saw what you did to Dad."
"I thought you might. He loved it."
"That's three hundred dollars. Leave my father alone."
"Three hundred dollars is only half the amount, Sweetheart, and
money is only half the price."
"You don't know what I had to do to get that money."
"I don't care what you have to do. And like I said, money by
itself isn't enough."
It was better than we had dared hope; Junior must have shuffled
church funds to pay her, and there was a lot more where that came
from.
"You want me to pimp for you."
"Think of yourself as a broker for services. You'd simply be
making referrals to a professional. You send people for
professional help, don't you? Psychiatrists, counselors? I'll solve
more problems than they will."
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 12, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 12
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
I watched his mind work the proposition over, a mind used to
turning concepts around to justify his actions. I've never had
trouble seducing wordsmiths. They can always come up with a logic
that lets them do what they want, even lying and stealing church
money to pay a whore. Lawyers and Christians are the easiest.
Christina decided to sweeten the offer, for him and for
herself. "Tell you what: You can avail yourself of my services at
no extra cost." She took a long drag off her cigarette and blew the
smoke toward his face. "It'll relieve you of bodily anxieties and
free your cluttered mind."
He searched her face, then dropped his gaze to her long,
shapely legs stretched out before him. He seemed to sag a little
and bowed his head with his eyes shut. I realized I was about to
lose a ten-dollar bet that Christina couldn't seduce him.
"Junior. Isn't there something you've always wanted to do but
couldn't? Something you fantasize in secret?" She opened her silky
robe to reveal the irresistible delights of her exquisitely lewd
body. She wore no underwear.
I saw his eyes squeeze tighter shut. He wasn't praying, he was
fighting his natural impulses.
"Do it," she said. "Do it, Junior."
His resistance left with a little whimper. What he wanted was
the simplest thing in the world to ordinary folk, but he had let it
build up to something sinister in his mind. He slumped in abject
surrender and melted face-first into her lap. The poor young man
just wanted to suck her off.
Christina let him nuzzle between her legs and assisted him in
his lust with her hand in his standard evangelist's coiffure. He
ran his hands gently over her legs and body and breasts, moaning and
breathing and wallowing in her glorious flesh. He kissed her
crossed legs where he could reach between them, he kissed her
thighs, he moved to the side of her leg, kissing and swooning and
surrendering to his lifelong fantasy. She raised her leg over his
head and draped it on the back of the sofa, giving him a clear shot
of his heart's lust, her sweet-smelling crotch and cunt, the Canaan
land of his best dreams, flowing with milk and honey through which
he now crawled face first.
His mouth found its target and he opened wide to suck it.
Christina obviously felt her juices starting. He sucked oh-
so-gently in spite of his driving craving, savoring the taste and
lost in the sight and feel of woman crotch. She undulated sensually
in his face, her entire body responding to his loving caresses, her
hands slow in pulling and moving his nodding head, touching his face
tenderly, fucking him in the mouth.
The young preacher slid his face down into her juicy cunt and
rubbed his eyes in sex, sighing the release of pent up passion and
living a dream come true. He smeared his face in the slime, back
and forth, up and down, pushing and wiping his face and mouth and
tongue in Christina's sexed-up cunt. I heard him moan submissively
when he placed his salivating mouth on the brand of the cross burned
there so many years before by another young preacher he was
unknowingly helping her destroy.
What? Wait a fucking minute! Where did Christina get a
cross?! Hadn't Darlene said Daddy never knew about Christina? I
must have misunderstood.
Christina took young Moreland by the hair and growled as she
forced his face into her soaking cunt and slop-fucked his open mouth
and wallowing tongue. His face was already a mess of woman goo,
slick and nasty with pussy juice and saliva, his eyes pasted with
her warm ooze. She wrapped her divine legs around his face, and he
slid off the sofa to his knees for better leverage and to keep her
from breaking his neck. She mashed and squished his face in fuck
juice, and he sucked and swallowed and gasped and sucked,
relinquishing any right to resist or even to survive the rampaging
thrusts of the uncontrollable female lustquake ravaging him.
Her strength multiplied by inflamed pussy greed, she rolled off
the couch with him still sucking mindlessly, knocking the coffee
table over and landing hard on the floor with her riding his face
like there was no tomorrow.
"Eat my fuck, Preacher! Suck it up! Eat it, eat it! Swallow
my fuck! Suck!"
She raped his face without mercy, her entire being concentrated
in her gluttonous loins, the insanity of lust pervading her body and
brain and soul. She was oblivious to the jerking thing beneath her.
She used it. She raped it. Its tremors and thrashing were no match
for her own seizure, and she could not have cared if she were
killing it.
The dying throes of her orgasm left her hunched and lurching on
his face, grunting with each spasm as she coasted uncertainly toward
normalcy. At last she was sane enough to be aware that the thing
under her was human, and she smiled triumphantly at the mess she had
made of his face. She fucked him in the mouth for a few more
seconds and then just sat there on him looking down on him from her
perch. His vacant eyes still feasted on her sweating nakedness, and
he looked up at her with a mixture of wonderment and gratitude.
She dismounted slowly and eased her spent body and relieved
soul onto the sofa. It was then she saw the mass of wet stickiness
that had come through his thin summer pants.
She had a convert. He would be back again and again, and he
would do absolutely anything necessary to keep from losing what he
now had to have.
"You'll pimp for me," she said.
He nodded his head submissively, too weak to do else, his
allegiance subverted, his will subordinate to hers. I remembered
she had done the same thing to me; she was very good at it. She had
given him what he had longed for all his life, and all she wanted in
return was his soul. It was hers by right of benevolent conquest.
Whatever story he had to concoct to explain his damaged face
was nothing compared to the lies he'd have to tell and the lie he
would have to live. Christina did not care. She had a more urgent
goal, one driven by seething anger at a life of foster homes and
state agencies and fed to the point of bursting by the vengeful
passions of our mother.
I was worked up into a lather by watching Christina and
associating her dominant violence with my adopted purpose. I would
cum all over Daddy's ministry, fuck the hell out of the saints, and
slime the church with a gooey substance that seeps into every pore
and cannot be washed away. I was the ultimate power and my
onslaught would obliterate all that dared resist me. I was woman!
The most destructive force on earth.
I had my hand up in my cunt and was going out of my mind in a
fit of lust and power. My fantasies jumped back to James, my first
victim, and I imagined with hallucinatory vividness that I was
stomping on his face with my bare feet and beating him senseless,
brutalizing him and punishing him. I fell clear off my chair in the
grand mal seizure of a savage orgasm which swallowed me up and
tossed me all over the floor in a hurricane of orgiastic convulsion.
--end Chapter 5--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 13, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 13
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
Chapter Six
For weeks, Darlene and Christina fucked and sucked and played
roles and collected souls while I wasn't getting any at all. I had
turned into a voyeur watching and doing myself like a dirty old man
in one those dirty little booths in adult video stores.
I wanted cock. Not just any old cock, either. I wanted a
pretty one, big and dynamic and part of a real man. I wanted Daddy.
When the pussy speaks, the rest of me listens. The pussy, just like
the cock, sets aside nonessentials such as insults and breaches of
trust when the juices are dominant. Hypocrisy itself, whether merely
a generalized behavior you abjure or an act that personally affects
you, can be overlooked at least long enough to get laid. Our high-
sounding melodramas and psychosocial intensities are brought into
perspective when our crass biological mechanisms express themselves,
telling what is really important in life and has to be handled. No
matter the seeming significance of the issue before you, if the body
says go take a shit or you're sexually turned on or you have to cum
now, you will. Your causes and projects just have to wait their
turn.
Thus it came to pass that I cuddled up next to Daddy on the
couch one evening, and we watched old movies and ate hotdogs. When
you boil a wiener, it swells up just big enough to remind your pussy
and mouth of what they've been missing but not big enough to do more
than torment you. I was tormented.
We were watching Dracula, of all things. Daddy said, "He
wasn't quite so appealing in the original Bram Stoker book. Smelled
like a slaughter house full of disemboweled animals."
"That's interesting," I said. "I want to suck your dick."
"There was a real person named -- what did you say?"
"I said I want to suck your dick."
He looked at me, no doubt wondering why, after these weeks of
no sex with him at all. But he wasn't about to sidetrack me with a
discussion. Like I said above, issues can wait.
"Ok. Suck it. You'll find it right where it's always been."
I dismissed where all my Daddy's big sweet cock had been in his
hyperactive sex life, and unzipped his pants, adeptly stuffing a
cloth napkin over the zipper so it wouldn't puncture the base of his
prick when we got going. Nothing can be more distracting to a man
getting a blowjob than prick pain. I didn't want to be interrupted,
and I didn't want him to be.
He was right. His big dick was still there. Flaccid peters
turn me on, especially when they're big like Daddy's. "Don't get
hard too fast, Daddy. I want to suck it like this."
"I'll just watch a little TV," he quipped.
I took half his dick in my mouth and moaned as I cupped it on
my tongue and clamped it in place with my lips. Unlike a wiener, my
daddy's nice big soft dick let me slide my mouth clear down until I
touched base and all the way back up to the head without actually
moving my mouth, except to suck, of course.
Different parts of the tongue and mouth have different kinds of
taste buds and sensitivities. The unhurried sucking of Daddy's dick
the way I was doing it gave me a variety of sensations and flavors I
forego in a frenzied gobbling for cum.
Going down slow, I tasted the characteristic differences by
focusing my attention on different parts of my tongue and mouth.
All the way down, the head of his dick was in the back of my mouth.
I sucked with my lips and the front half of my tongue for one
sensation and with the back of my mouth for head taste and a duller,
thicker sensation. When I pulled back, I focused on the experience
all along my tongue and lips and the inside of my mouth at different
stages. Then I savored the different taste of the head of his dick
on the front part of my tongue. I went back down to remind myself
of how the head tasted in the back of my mouth, then came back up
and compared it to the taste and sensation in the front part. They
were both wonderful, and getting there and back was wonderful, too.
I lip-sucked his helmet with my tongue pointed down so the end
of his dick could poke at the middle of my tongue. I got a craving
which required that I hold his big schlong and milk it while I
licked all around the helmet. Then I went through the whole
procedure in a few smooth movements to integrate all the tastes and
sensations at once. Lick around the base of the helmet, lip it and
tongue it, slide down halfway, renew the grip halfway down, push all
the way into his hairs, and then suck my way back up. I did it and
did it and did it and did it in flowing integrated movements that
gave me exactly the unified experience I wanted in my mouth.
I heard Dracula say, "You are a wise man, Van Helsing," and
remembered I had left Daddy sitting up there watching TV. I looked
up at him. I don't know how to describe the expression he had on
his face as he sat there looking down at me. Sort of a hollowed out
or dazed, perhaps the wide-eyed idiot-like expression of one who is
awed, stunned, titillated, and beguiled all at the same time. Maybe
it was just a daddy marveling at what his daughter was doing.
"Daddy." I said it in my best little-girl voice.
"My, God," he said in a barely audible sigh.
"You're getting harder, Daddy," I teased. I cupped his balls
in my hand and fondled them.
"Suck it."
I took it in my mouth again and did the whole number slowly
while manipulating his balls. I pressed my middle two fingers
against the pressure point under his testicles and worked his balls
in my palm with my thumb and other fingers, all the while giving him
the new Trinity blowjob I had just developed.
"My daughter is sucking me off," he observed very quietly.
"I'm going to make my daddy cum, and I'm going to swallow my
daddy's cum," I murmured.
I sucked his dick lovingly and caressed his balls with soft
hands. He stroked my hair and petted me serenely, lingeringly.
"I'm very much in love with you, Trinity. I don't think I
could live without you."
I could barely hear him, barely sense his sedated fear of
losing me. I felt guilty at what I had been up to lately. This
loving, generous man with his dick in my mouth, in love with me, had
a sense of the foreboding, a presentiment of imminent loss, and was
telling me of a soul about to be wounded and asking that he not lose
the one thing he held most dear under heaven: me.
But his cock was in my mouth, immense and august, and I could
not at that moment have given him spiritual balm in any better way
than by receiving his essence into myself.
"Cum in my mouth, Daddy."
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 14, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 14
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
He released it. His splendid member burped, and I got a shot
of Cowper's up the length of my nose before I could get my mouth
back over his dick. Just in time. He began filling my mouth, and I
began drinking it. He had gone weeks without release, and I
swallowed and swallowed and swallowed more gushes of thick man cream
than I thought two balls could hold. I thought he must have a
reserve tank down there in that powerful male apparatus, and I was
glad for it. I sucked with all parts of my mouth and milked his
long thick tube to get all of it. Every time I thought he was done
and started to suck up what had spewed over, he'd shoot some more of
his hot substance into my mouth, and I'd swallow. I saved up
several loads so I could swallow a whole mouthful at once. I felt
it slide down my throat like the big nasty slug of cum it was, and I
had to swallow several times to get it all down.
Daddy's cum. Daddy's cum from Daddy's dick. Breathes there a
soul anywhere on earth among the daughters of men one so sublimely
blessed as I? I counted my blessings as I cleaned my daddy's balls
and cock with my mouth and tongue. His spent peter, flaccid again,
was still delicious but had a new taste and feel altogether
different from its presucked state. No matter how sedulously I
licked, it retained a sticky, clammy quality, and I liked it. It
meant this cock has had sex, has performed one of its primary
functions, and will resurrect itself in time to do it again.
I laid my head in his lap and held his big floppy sticky cock
in my mouth. My daddy's cock in my mouth. He stroked my hair and
caressed my face and neck and shoulder. I sucked at will, and he let
me, but mostly I just let my natural mouth movements happen and
basked in the intimate glow of domestic tranquility. I entered
sleep gracefully.
The halcyon personality of the evening lingered sweetly into
the night. I awoke when Daddy took his dick out of my mouth and
lifted me in his strong arms. He carried me to his bedroom.
Kissing me lovingly, he placed me on his giant bed and removed my
clothes. Unhurriedly, he removed his own clothes, never taking his
eyes off mine. Those eyes so kind, and his expression so warm. I
felt genuinely loved, his beloved, my daddy's lover and soul mate.
He crawled on top of me, and I opened myself to him. He
entered me slowly and steadily, kissing me with profound tenderness.
He fucked me as he had seldom fucked me before, slowly,
methodically, savoring each stroke up inside of me, cherishing the
feel of my female body. I met his movements with my own. He held
his hardness deep within me and locked his open mouth on mine. Our
kiss was a slow, chewing, tonguing, sucking kiss, and we held each
other as one and experienced the feel of each other in our
incestuous coupling. He withdrew nearly the full length of his shaft
and slid it all the way up in me again, holding it there as we
renewed our sensations both physical and mental.
He began pumping steadily, rhythmically. We melded together in
the natural unity of father and daughter, moving with celestial
harmony to the music of the ages, the dance of sexual love.
I found the words he had found earlier to express a new depth
of love: "I'm in love with you, Daddy."
"I'm in love with you, Trinity."
The magma of his manforce gushed from him to me in symbiotic
interfusion of maleness and femaleness as we abandoned ourselves to
each other in the eternal ecstacy of divinely inspired sexual orgasm
and the sacred love of daughter and father.
That is, we fucked and loved and cum until we passed out. It
was the best and most sensual and fulfilling fuck I had ever had. It
would be matched by no other again until Daddy and I returned for an
encore and then a thousand more -- after lessons were learned that
still had to be learned.
Oh, how I wish the lessons men and women must learn could
somehow be presented linearly in nice, neat, orderly fashion with
one module following the other logically and no branching into what
could have been an infinite abyss. On the other hand, had there
been no snake in the Garden of Eden, would Adam and Eve have missed
knowing their joys for want of contrast?
This man I loved and who loved me could not be the fiend
Darlene and Christina had portrayed him to be. Our love was true,
our sexual union beyond discrediting. I would confront the diabolic
snake and her beautiful offspring who had weaved and swayed and
beguiled me.
I could be wise as a fox instead of harmless as a dove this
time. If necessary to effecting a good end, I would be as deceptive
as Darlene had been. I wasn't in too deep to pull out. I would lie
and say I had merely given them shelter and had no knowledge of
their sinful activities. They may bruise my daddy's heel and hurt
those they led astray, but we would all recover and be the stronger
for it.
Maybe someday I would meet my real mother, and she would join
Daddy and me in our union of bodies and souls.
Yes, I was eighteen and gullible, but I was learning fast.
Looking back over my life, I think it is my trusting naivete that I
now miss most. There are sophisticates enough already in this
world. What we lack are the innocents, people not on guard, not
afraid to be fooled. What we lack, and what we most need.
In a short time, I had gone from loving Daddy to hating him and
back not only to loving him but being in love with him. Can there
be a middle ground?
If so, I didn't find it with my next lesson. I confronted
Darlene and Christina. How did Christina get a cross brand when
Daddy didn't know she existed? According to Darlene, Daddy thought
Darlene had aborted the baby.
"We shouldn't have let you believe your father burned the cross
into Christina," Darlene said. "Christina did it herself as a
symbol of solidarity with me. She showed you her crotch just to
identify herself, and we just never spelled it out. You assumed
your father had done it, and we should have told you otherwise. We
know how persuasive Jonathan is, especially in bed, and we knew he
was fucking you."
Ok. After some discussion, her explanation was reasonable.
But I didn't believe Darlene had just run across me by accident on a
Sunday morning in New Orleans.
"You're right. It was not just a coincidence. I thought we
told you that. We had been collecting data on Jonathan for two
years and had followed him to New Orleans. The whole act in the
hotel room when I pretended to be shocked at seeing him on TV was
just that. An act, perfectly timed. And my shock at seeing your
cross was an act. Try to understand that we had been working
undercover for two years; you get to where you automatically take a
devious route to everything you do."
Her frankness was disarming. But if they were so habitually
deceptive, they wouldn't be above staging scenes and taking dark
photographs and showing me a scratched up video tape of a blond man
I couldn't really see taking turns on a prostitute with three other
men. The reenactment of what Daddy and three other preacher boys
had done to Darlene was a bit too pat.
Besides, I told them, I simply did not believe that Daddy could
be so completely reprobate as to make love with me as he had this
week and say the things he said if what they were telling me was
true. No one, especially Daddy with me, could be that cold a liar.
Darlene and Christina looked at each other in some kind of
mental conversation. "We have to show it to her, Mother," Christina
said.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 15, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 15
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
And they did. It was a videotape, well photographed with good
lighting and in color. It started with a back shot of a woman
sitting on a man's face.
"Oh, great," I said. "Here we go again. I'm supposed to
assume the man I can't see is Daddy?"
"Keep watching. And keep listening. There were five cameras
set up in that room, and we paid a professional porn director a lot
of money to put this tape together."
The woman was fucking his face good. Whoever she was, she was
certainly beautiful, and she knew how to move like a cobra. Sensual
is an understatement for the way this beauty fucked face.
"Nice back," I said sarcastically, "and she knows what she's
doing. So who is she and where's Daddy? He's not the only man in
the world with blond hair on his legs and a beautiful cock. Even I
know that much."
There was a shot now of the woman's body taken diagonally from
the front. A wonderful body. Dimples and ripples in all the right
places as she cobra-danced on his mouth, perfectly formed breasts
designed in heaven to coordinate with her body size, soft, smooth,
plenty of bounce when she hunched.
I was getting turned on in spite of my intention to be analytic
about the whole thing.
"You ok, Trinity?" Christina asked.
"I want to suck her off."
"You can."
Just as she said it, the camera zoomed out far enough to show
the woman's face. It was Christina! I caught my breath, both at
the surprise and at the little jump my pussy does when it gets
excited. I had been where the man was, and I had seen Christina
from his enviable position. I could almost taste her again as I
watched, almost feel her legs on my face. God, she's good.
"Tell me again who you want me to pretend I am," Christina was
saying to the man. "Tell me. I want to hear the words."
"My daughter," he answered through his girl muffler. "You are
my daughter."
"Suck me, Daddy. Suck me. Suck that sexy daughter pussy 'til
I cum. I want you to swallow daughter fuck."
I was wet between my legs and adjusted my posture uneasily.
Christina knew some buttons to push with her fascinating combination
of words. She used the expression I had heard her use several
times, one that did strange things to me:
"Drink my womanfuck, Daddy." I forgot for a moment what the
tape was supposed to be about. I swooned. "God," I whispered
coarsely.
"Steady, girl," Christina said to me. "You won't make it
through the movie at this rate."
The view switched to a shot taken off to the side and slightly
behind her to the right. It was perfectly timed to catch
Christina's brilliant maneuver, one I had never seen.
First she drew her feet up so she could squat on the man's
face. She did it to him for a while that way, then she suddenly
threw her feet and legs out from under her, squashing his mouth in
sex and female crotch, and twisted completely around like a weather
vane. I heard the man grunt in pain and saw his body lurch. She
was facing the other direction before he could get his hands up to
push her off. He moaned again and seemed to collapse under her,
spreadeagled and totally vulnerable.
"Suck my asshole," Christina commanded him confidently. "That's
it, yes. Stick your tongue up your goddess daughter's asshole."
She ground her ass in his face. "See if you can get some of my
shit on your tongue. Suck for my shit, Daddy." Saying it in such a
matter-of-fact way was ten times sexier than any deliberate attempt
to sound nasty. Not even professional porn directors have learned
what Christina seemed to know naturally.
Well, I'm not into coprolagnia, but you have to remember that
Christina understood perfectly that it's the idea of a thing that
drives a person nuts with lust. Only a couple of years older than
I, she had acquired a slut wisdom I had to admire.
She went skin diving next, swimming down the man's beautiful
body and engulfing his erect penis in her mouth. They rolled onto
their sides, his face toward the camera but hidden in glorious
female flesh. Only his blond hair was visible, and I strained to
see if it just might be Daddy.
They had hit upon the best position for sixty-nine. There's no
strain in that position. You have complete flexibility of movement,
and each partner has full access to the other's goodies. They ran
their hands over each other, maximizing their pleasure as they
sucked at each other. They pumped and hunched and felt and sucked
each other, and I listened to their slurping sounds and grunts.
Christina started crawling down his legs, kissing and feeling.
My eyes widened in fearful expectation, and I sat forward and waited
without breathing.
There! Oh, God! It was unmistakably Daddy! His face was
soaked with Christina juice and was goofy with pure lust. His face
sagged and his mouth hung open and his eyes drooped with sexual
labor. He breathed and looked like a dying animal who had
surrendered to inevitable death.
And I hated his fucking guts. Seeing him like that with
another woman, willingly and hungrily participating in sexual acts
with her, nasty and dopey-looking with a draining lust that sapped
him of dignity. I wanted to reach into the scene and destroy the
hated face of the slimy thing my daddy was.
He followed Christina down her path and turned her over. They
lay face to face and petted each other. Like lovers. Lovers! They
kissed deeply. He smeared his nasty face on hers and rooted his
chewing mouth in her neck away from the camera.
Christina reached between them and guided his lust-filled organ
into her. He began fucking her. She looked directly into the
camera, directly into my eyes, and smiled coyly and superciliously
at me.
Still smiling the smile of a conquering, sneering slut, she
said, "Fuck me, Daddy," and grinned widely as he obeyed. It was
filthy. Profoundly squalid, slovenly, spiritually depraved,
Christina making all the moves and sounds of sexual abandonment and
uninhibited craving while smiling out of his sight to prove she was
just putting on a performance.
"Cum in me, Daddy," she begged, looking into the camera with a
superior nonchalance that made me sick.
"Please stop it," I said quietly.
"It's almost over," Darlene said.
"There's still one more thing you have to hear," Christina said
to me.
I had my face in my hands, unable to witness more of my daddy's
degradation. I was crying in absolute and devastating
disillusionment. Christina put her arms around me. "Listen,
Trinity. You don't have to watch anymore, but listen."
"No, please. I don't want to hear. Please. I don't want to
hear."
But I did hear: "Tell me, Daddy. Say the words you need to
say. Say it!"
"I love you, Christina. I'm in love with you. I can't live
without you. I love you."
And I heard his distinctive grunts I had heard so many times
before as he cum in her. I sobbed violently in the arms of the same
woman who was taking his cum into her body.
--end Chapter 6--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 16, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 16
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
Chapter Seven
Junior Moreland, the Youth Pastor, was still sucking Christina
off once a week. He was keeping his part of the bargain by pimping
for her, too, sending us some of his counselees. They ranged in age
from eighteen to thirty-two. The older they were, the more fucked up
they were. Almost every one of them, though, wanted simple stuff,
very few asking for anything perverted. Like Junior himself, they
had built little acts ordinary people take for granted into
something big. Junior, taking his referral to professionals
seriously, made the appointments for them and reviewed their silly
little cases for us over the phone.
One young man -- I say young, but he was eight years older than
I was -- is a good example. Delbert Atkins. I had known his family
for many years. We used to go on picnics with them before the
Atkins kids grew up and moved away. Decent, upright citizens all.
Anyway, Delbert had let this little fantasy about being a
girl's slave become an obsession he was sure he'd go to hell for.
So heinous was the ideation that he didn't dare ask his wife to role
play it with him. Nothing unusual about that. Wives don't role play
anything. That's why men need whores. So do some women.
We took his innocent little fantasy and turned it into
something worth going to hell for. It's easier to recover from
something obvious that has significant consequences than it is from
vague and secret thoughts that might be a sin but you're not sure.
Delbert's little problem gave me an idea for how I could get in
on the action. "I'll take this one myself," I told Darlene and
Christina. "Take him into your room, Darlene, and just leave him
there."
"Don't hurt him, Trinity. Remember it isn't pain that's
important to these types. In the mood you've been in since you saw
your Daddy fucking your sister, you'll kill him."
Delbert showed up, on time of course. Christina and I watched
Darlene through the mirror as she prepared him for me. "You the
little wimp needing a goddess?" she asked him.
"Yes, ma'am."
She gave him a contemptuous look. "Strip, swine."
She watched him take his clothes off, the effect on him
obviously what he wanted. From the top drawer of her chest of
drawers, she removed a riding crop. His eyes widened as she came
toward him. She used the crop to knock his clothes off the bed to
the floor, then kicked them across the room.
"Open your mouth, boy."
He did. She made him hold the crop in his mouth. "Sit here
and wait. The Goddess will be in when it pleases her. And you'd
better have that crop still in your mouth when she comes in, too.
Understand, creep?"
He nodded compliantly. Darlene looked down at him in total
disgust. She spit right in his face, then slowly turned and walked
out. In a few seconds, she entered the mirror room where Christina
and I had been giggling at the performance.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked me. "To someone
you know so well, I mean."
"I had that figured out from the start. Watch this." I was
out of my clothes in an instant, enjoying their appreciative eyes on
my nakedness. I opened a small suitcase and took out a bejewelled
red robe I had worn when I played Bathsheba in a church play. It
reached only to my upper thighs and had made a lot of people in the
audience terribly nervous. Delbert's old man, for example, couldn't
take his eyes off me, as I recalled.
From the pocket, I removed a red mask and black velvet bikini
bottoms and put them on. The mask covered only my eyebrows down to
just under my high cheek bones, but Delbert would never think to
recognize me.
Darlene knelt in front of me and slipped a pair of red, open
high heels on my bare feet. They were more like high-heeled
sandals with straps. She looked up at me and said, "Goddess."
"Later, slave. I have a paying customer." I tossed my blonde
tresses haughtily as Christina helped me on with my robe.
"How do I look?"
"He'll shoot all over Darlene's carpet when you walk in.
Goddess Trinity."
I assumed the attitude and posture befitting my role as
imperial queen and goddess, and exited my exalted self from the
mirror room.
When I made my entrance into Darlene's room, Delbert was
obviously gratified by what he saw. He whined and almost lost the
crop he had obediently held in his mouth. He slid slowly to the
floor, his legs bent backwards under him.
I walked over in front of him and stood majestically above him.
"Put your hands behind you," I commanded without expression. I took
a length of cord from my pocket and, bending over him, I tied his
wrists together securely. When I stood erect, I saw that Delbert's
member was also standing erect, saluting me.
I kicked his dick a little harder than I meant to, but it did
no real damage. He doubled forward and lost the riding crop from
his mouth. I let him bow before me and recover from the kick. I
put my foot on the back of his head as he did obeisance to me.
Tiring of this, I removed my foot and nudged his face with it,
raising him up with my beautifully shod foot, admiring my own
shapely leg and my pretty shoes as I did. I snapped my fingers and
pointed to the riding crop. He bowed down and retrieved it for me.
I took it out of his mouth and hit him carefully but solidly in the
face with it. He winced in pain and bowed his head.
"Pray to me."
He began to pray. Not bad for an impromptu prayer to a pagan
goddess from a Christian boy. "Beautiful Blonde Goddess, I beseech
thee for thy bountiful discipline. I pray that thou wilt teach me
how to worship thee and praise thee. I beg thee my Goddess to
accept the loving worship of this unworthy worm of humanity. In
thine own wonderful name I pray. Amen."
I loosened my robe and stood with my legs apart and my hands on
my hips with my robe open. His eyes glazed as he beheld his
venerated pagan Blonde Goddess. He was aswoon with lust as his eyes
roamed over my flat belly and my lovely stomach and my perfect
breasts. I looked down on him with no expression, showing neither
pleasure nor disgust, taking his worship for granted.
"You are unworthy, Delbert," I said in a normal voice. "You're
stupid, ugly, and short. You unmanly, ridiculous little creep. You
disgust me, you useless little shit. You're not worth my time,
Delbert. Open your mouth so I can spit."
I made him wait with his mouth open until tears formed in his
eyes. I worked up a mouthful of saliva and leaned over slightly and
pushed it slowly out of mouth with my tongue. He received my
copious rope of spit gratefully and treasured it in his mouth before
swallowing it. It gave me a viciously marvelous idea for an ending
when we got to that point. My pussy blew the ending as you will
see.
"You're disgusting to me. You're disgusting to all beautiful
women. We laugh at ugly little worms like you, Delbert. You're
nothing to us. We walk on you, we spit on you." Here I spit in his
face. "Pretty women are superior to you. Call yourself names,
Delbert."
"I'm an inferior little weakling. I'm ugly, stupid,
disgusting, ridiculous, and worthless."
"And short."
"I'm short. Pretty women make fun of me and take me for
granted. Oh, Goddess, I love you."
He meant it. I was the woman he had dreamed of, strong,
superior, dominant, cruel, beautiful, and totally out of his reach.
"You will pray to me every night."
"Yes, Beautiful Goddess. I love you my Goddess, my Blonde
Perfect Goddess."
"You will bring me money. I don't care what you have to do to
get it for me. Just get it. No beautiful woman would have anything
to do with you unless you paid her. And you will pay, Delbert.
I'll make you pay me even if I just take your money and dismiss you
from my presence. You belong to me."
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 17, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 17
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
He loved it. "Yes, Beautiful Blonde Goddess. I belong to
you."
"I will humiliate you in front of other women next time. You
will be our footstool, our rug, our toilet if we choose. And now,
Delbert, I will mark you with the mark of beautiful women as a
symbol of what you are to us."
I slapped him across the face hard and he fell sideways to the
floor. It had to have scrambled his brains a bit. He shook his
head trying to restore his vision and knowledge of where he was and
what he was doing. I pressed my foot firmly on his erect prick and
dug my heel into his testicles between his balls as he sought to get
his senses back. He writhed beneath me, moaning in an ecstacy known
only to masochists.
I pressed until his eyes once again filled with tears. Then I
giant stepped over him and placed my other foot on his face.
"The mark of beautiful women," I announced, and I pressed my
heel into the soft place under his cheek bone. I watched my
helpless victim take what I was doing to him. I raised my foot to
check my work. One side of his face was bright red from my slap,
his forehead bore the dirty smudge of my shoe, and my heel had left
a wound that would be there for several days.
I stood astride his face letting him peer through tearful eyes
at the magnificence of my towering beauty, raising his futile hopes.
"You will be here at this same time Friday, pissant."
I left him there on the floor, his hands still tied behind him.
My queenly dignity vanished as soon as I shut the door behind
me. I dashed toward the mirror room and practically crashed through
the door.
My performance had done Darlene and Christina the same way it
had done me. Christina was fucking her kneeling mother in the mouth
hard, and Darlene was ramming herself with a dildo in a frenzy of
woman lust.
There was no consideration in my loins for their needs. "Give
me that goddamned dildo, Darlene, or I'll kill you." I literally
pushed her on her ass and jerked the dildo out of her in my frenzy.
She got up and took off running, stark naked, on her way to the
unsuspecting victim I had left on the other side of the mirror.
Christina was as pussy greedy as Darlene and I were, and she
was not to be denied. As I rammed the big dildo into my juicy cunt,
she grabbed me roughly by the face and mercilessly used me as
vigorously as I was using myself. She could see what Darlene was
doing to poor Delbert. I had to wait to see it on tape.
Three women cum almost at the same time from three sources of
stimulation. Christina cum in my mouth and almost broke my jaw. I
cum all over the dildo and my hand. Darlene and Delbert cum all
over each other.
We played back the tape later that night and wished we had had
another camera in the mirror room pointed at Darlene and Christina
and then at Christina and me. I was magnificent and turned myself
on all over again.
We laughed ourselves silly at the end of the tape. Delbert was
lying there with his hands tied behind him trying to masturbate
himself with his legs. There was dead silence. Then Darlene burst
through the door like a naked wild woman and scared the shit out of
him and us too. She bounded across the room in three leaps and
jumped like a goosed cat into the air, landing on her feet in
perfect position and squatting onto that pole so fast it looked like
she landed on him from the air. She fucked him harder than I have
ever seen anybody fuck an animate object. A wild woman she was, and
both of them were already so overheated they exploded together in a
cum festival that had everything but rockets going off and a brass
band playing a triple-time march.
We laughed until we cried, falling all over each other's naked
bodies on Christina's bed and ending up in a daisy chain that
must've looked like a giant, obscene alien organism with its face
stuck in its own cunt squirming to get out. How about a ring of
melting white fudge given arms and legs and brought to life by a
weird magician? Would you believe a Siamese triplets roll?
Delbert was back Friday as I had ordered. He was getting over
a black eye I hadn't realized I had given him when I hit him.
In prayer to me, he confessed stealing money from the
collection plates after the Wednesday night services at Calvary
Tabernacle. I took the money coldly.
"Very good, Delbert. I am pleased with you. Steal some more
to give to me. See if you can figure out a way to steal from the
special fund for the poor. You may suck my toes as your reward." I
sat in an armchair with my legs crossed and let him grovel on the
floor with half my foot in his mouth.
Christina joined us this time to intensify his humiliation. A
pretty girl watching him being unmanly. Not that she needed to hide
her identity, but she wore a black cat mask and a black bikini.
Bare feet. She did not participate except to show her disdain for
his type. I offered him to her for a foot stool, and she rejected
him. "Yech," she said, jabbing two fingers at her mouth in the
well-known gesture of gagging at the thought of having anything to
do with him. He got a hard-on. She smoked a cigarette and watched.
I did the ending I had wanted to do the first time before I was
so rudely interrupted by my need to cum. It was the idea I had
gotten while spitting in his mouth. I sat on his face backwards and
pinched his titties while he sucked ass. Then I made him put his
legs up and held his ankles in my armpits and masturbated him as I
bounced lightly on his face.
I timed it perfectly. When he stiffened to cum, I slid
backwards off his face and aimed his steaming prick carefully.
"Open your mouth wide, cumsucker," I ordered, and he took his
stream of spurting cum right in the mouth.
"Bulls eye!" the ingenious Christina laughed.
He cum in his own mouth, he cum in his own face, he shot a load
across his stomach when I jerked his dick at the wrong time, and he
drank his own dick cum.
"Does it taste good, wimp?" the cruel Christina taunted. "You
ought to make that your prayer position, you nerd wimp of a pussy
fart."
When his well finally ran dry, Christina and I dragged him off
the bed and across the room and all the way into the bathtub. We
considered pissing on him, but once a man cums, he's done. Why
waste a good idea? Besides, we knew he'd think about it and jack
off and probably beg us for it next time. We just turned the shower
on him and left him there, laughing and joking about him as we went
out.
The next time he came, I took his money and sent him away.
"You're a nice little diversion, boy," I told him, "but I'm tired of
you. Don't come back anymore. Just bring some money around, and
one of us might let you look up our dress or something. Go away."
I shut the door in his face.
Can you believe it? The poor little masochistic slob actually
did bring money to us for nothing! One of us would open the front
door to the annex, take his money, and shut the door like he wasn't
even there. Sometimes Darlene felt sorry for him and brought him in
and let him look up her dress. Christina spit in his face a few
times. I let him come in and pray to me. Every now and then, we'd
bring him in and punch him in the stomach or slap him and make him
cry for us.
But mostly we just took his money and gave him nothing.
Then he stopped coming. He was arrested for stealing money out
of women's purses at church. You want to hear something ironic? He
stole money out of my purse once when I left it in the choir room.
And I sang a solo that day, too. He showed up at the annex the
following afternoon. That was one of the days I brought him and
punched him.
"What goes around comes around," Christina laughed.
When he got out of jail, he came before the church and asked
forgiveness for stealing from us. We forgave him.
Then he came to the annex and begged me in prayer for
forgiveness. I punished him for failing me and ordered him to keep
stealing money to give me.
Power. I loved it.
And sometimes I loved submission to Christina just as much,
albeit she followed my lead except when we played that particular
scene with Delbert. Christina was a fantastic actress.
I was getting pretty good at it, too: I was still fucking
Daddy regularly and enjoying it. Still sucked him off on the couch.
Still sat on his face. All the while building the edifice of slime
that would suck his church and school and his whole ministry
irretrievably down into a dank, dark, squalid dungeon of sticky
filth. If God didn't destroy the Jonathan Barrett Ministries when I
was done cumming and shitting all over it, he would owe Sodom and
Gomorrah an apology.
I was getting good at it, but I could not switch myself off
like Christina could. Always when I fucked Daddy, I had a twinge of
conscience to deal with. I often pretended to myself I was
Christina when he fucked me. That helped, but I could not seem to
fall out of love with my Daddy.
--end Chapter 7--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 18, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 18 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
Chapter Eight
Delbert's father was head of the Jonathan Barrett Bible College
and one of Daddy's closest advisors and friends. At fifty-eight,
old man Atkins was also the closest thing to a father-figure Daddy
had, and I had always thought of him as my adopted grandfather.
Indeed, among intimates, I called him Grandpa. Even when I played a
sexy Bathsheba in a church play and Mr. Atkins couldn't stop looking
at me, I took it as disapproval from an elder. I saw him pretty
much as Daddy saw him: a wise and kindly old gentleman.
And that's what he was. I don't intend to demean him just
because he also turned out to be a human being. Perhaps the hardest
lesson I learned in life was that great personages remain great
personages for mature people even when we discover they are normal.
They eat, shit, have sex, feel, cry, laugh, fart, dream dreams,
experience disappointment, work, play, get hiccups, and do
everything the rest of us do.
But I was barely nineteen that April, and I did not have the
maturity to appreciate this principle when I discovered my
grandfather figure was also a man. Like Moses at an advanced age,
his eye was not dimmed nor his natural force abated.
So I thought nothing of bouncing into Mr. Atkins's office in my
ragged jean shorts with the slit in one leg, and interrupting his
meeting with Daddy. Daddy and I were going fishing, after all, not
to a White House reception. After the usual bright greetings and
kisses, Daddy said he and Mr. Atkins would be another hour, so I
plopped down on the soft leather couch with a magazine. I laid my
head back on the arm and threw one leg over the back of the couch
and started to read.
Daddy cleared his throat after an embarrassing silence. "Uh,
sweetheart, we're actually in a meeting. Why don't you wait for me
in the coffee shop?"
I slapped the magazine against the floor and gave out a breath
of exasperation.
"Let her stay, Jonathan. Indeed, she may have some insights
into the problem."
I looked at him with delight, but his eyes were glued to my
legs. "What problem?" I asked.
He grazed his way up my legs as he spoke, nibbled over my bare
midriff, crawled over my bulging halter, paused briefly on my lips,
and finally made eye contact.
"We were discussing a change we think we detect in our people,
Trinity," he said to the exposed flesh of my inner thigh. "A
preoccupation of some sort that has made our fellowship with the
saints feel distant and strained," he explained to my crotch and
belly. "It is as though, uhhh --" he searched for his words in the
dimples on my stomach -- "as though a spirit is at work contrary to
the interests of God's people." The jutting mounds of my breasts
expanded with the knowledge he imparted to them.
When he made it to my lips, I couldn't keep myself from getting
playful with the old man. I licked them sensually.
"Uhhhhh . . .." He lost his train of thought and journeyed
hopefully on to my twinkling eyes.
I looked casually at Daddy who knew exactly what I was doing.
He gave me a scolding look that feigned disapproval.
"How does it show up, exactly?" I asked Mr. Atkins.
"A very perceptive question. It shows up as eyes averted that
used to make contact, tension in families where peace had been,
absenteeism among formerly faithful staff members, teachers not
attending to routine, a subtle demoralization in our community. My
own personal heartbreak was my son's behavior and his arrest,
behavior which I believe is symptomatic of this problem we must
resolve."
He was right. I did have some insight into the problem.
"And then there are certain accounting anomalies." He checked
with Daddy to be sure it was ok. Daddy nodded his assent. "Funds
are being shuffled according to the auditor, Trinity. A most
disturbing thing. There are expenditures for items we cannot seem
to find. The paper trail for many of our functions seems to be,
let's say, less careful than it used to be."
"Wow," I summarized insightfully. What's going on?"
"Satan," Daddy answered. "We've done something that has
allowed Satan to bend the saints to his purpose. I feared a
diminution of our purity of purpose when we expanded to a national
television ministry. I should have heeded your admonition, Emmett,
and vetoed the Board."
The secretary stuck her head in the door. "Jonathan? Did you
want to see Junior Moreland? He's waiting for you in your office at
the Tabernacle."
"Oh, shoot! I forgot all about Junior! Gee, Sweetheart, we
may not get to go fishing after all."
"Nonsense," Mr. Atkins said. "You go keep your appointment
with Junior, and I'll entertain Trinity until you get back. The
fish won't know you're late."
Uh-oh. Oh, well. If Grandpa wants to play, I'm game. Why
should he be any different from anybody else?
Daddy left.
"Put your legs down, young woman," Mr. Atkins said firmly.
"You and I are about to have a frank conversation."
I rose to the challenge. "My, Grandpa, what big teeth you have
all of a sudden." I decided to push him to the brink. As you've
seen, it was a reflex for me. I moved off the couch and walked
around his huge desk and leaned the cheeks of my ass against it and
braced myself on it with both hands behind me. It made my breasts
prominent.
I looked down on him as I had his son. He took his time
raising his gaze from my legs to my eyes.
"So. What's on your mind, old man?"
"My son. He confessed his sins to me. He described his
'Goddess' in embarrassing detail, Trinity. When he mentioned the
robe this young woman wore, I remembered your Bathsheba. It was you,
wasn't it?"
We studied each other's eyes. I was in need. This wise and
kind old man might be the balm my disturbed soul needed. I
confessed. "Yeah. It was me, Grandpa."
"Trinity. Will you let me kiss your legs?"
Well, shit! I should've known. Here I was thinking I may have
found a much-needed spiritual advisor, and he turns out to be an old
fool lecher.
I pushed myself away from the desk and raised my leg high,
placing my dirty sneaker on the back of his high-backed leather
chair next to his face.
"Kiss them, Grandpa."
He rolled his head to one side and kissed my ankle
passionately. I saw the tension leave his body. He kissed slowly
up to my calf. I reached down and ran my fingers through his gray
hair. A dignified hair style just didn't fit what he was doing. I
messed it up for him and caressed his head tenderly as he kissed. I
felt sorry for him. A decent old man with a decent old need.
"I understand, Grandpa."
He looked up at me, surprised, grateful for my saying it.
"Thank you, Trinity. You can't know how much it means to hear you
say that, given who we are and what I'm doing."
"You're still the same wise and lovely old Grandpa you were
before. I don't think any less of you for having needs like this.
You shouldn't think yourself to be less than you are, either."
I touched his face and guided it gently to my inner thigh
stretched out boldly in my brazen position. "Enjoy it. Don't think
about sin or pride or shame or anything of the sort. Just think
about kissing Trinity's legs as you've wanted to do for a year.
Poor Grandpa. I had no idea. If I had known, I would have let you
a long time ago."
He kissed. He pushed his face into the flesh of my leg, and I
helped him by pressing my leg against his face and moving his head
back and forth with my hand. He kissed under my leg, he kissed my
inner leg, he ran his mouth along my spacious thigh. He was feeling
the muscles of my other leg, tenderly and unhurriedly feeling me,
letting his hand know joy as he squeezed my taut, flaring calf,
running his hand up the back of my standing leg while nuzzling his
mouth and nose in the softness between my raised leg and the
womanhood he knew was hidden in my jeans.
He slid out of his chair to the floor, and I put my leg over
his shoulder, my foot on the seat of the chair. He pushed his face
into my crotch and inhaled through my jeans. I cupped his head at
the nape of his neck and pulled his face deep into me, rubbing my
leg on his face. He wrapped both arms around my standing leg as he
rooted, and I pulled on him and hunched for him.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 19, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 19 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
It occurred to me that he was awfully old and that I might
break something. I straightened up and took my leg off him, pushing
him gently back so his head rested on the chair. He felt my legs now
with both hands, and I let him.
I wondered what a man his age who had spent his life in
Christian work knew about sex. I was starting to need my pussy
sucked, but I didn't want to upset him by making him do something
that might never have occurred to him was something anybody ever
did. So I just stood there in front of him and let him feel me and
look at me.
Being careful was not something I was used to. But then, I
also wasn't used to letting my adopted Grandpa, a treasured old
family friend, sit beneath me and lust on me. If I let me be
myself, I was afraid it would scare him into a heart attack or
repulse him.
But I had to do something besides just stand there, so I
started making slow fuck movements like a shy belly dancer. They got
bolder and bolder but I kept them slow. Obviously, the old man had
an innate understanding of real sensuality, and sensuality is slow
and fluid. Yes, he was practically drooling. Beautiful young
Trinity Barrett, his favorite and probably only fantasy, actually
standing bare legged over him slow fucking the air he breathed while
he kept his hands on her calves.
"Trinity," he said softly, confirming my hypothesis that he was
down there living a dream of me.
"You didn't think in your wildest imagination that this could
ever happen, did you, Grandpa. Trinity Barrett. It's really me,
old man. Look at me. I'm real. I'm the only reality on earth
that's better than the fantasy. Lust Grandpa." I added heavy
rhythmic breathing to my obscene hunching over his unbelieving face.
I reached behind me and undid the clasp of my halter and freed my
perfect young thirty-eights. They frolicked in their unique dance
to the pulse of my body's erotic undulation.
The old man lusted on my body as I have never been lusted on.
His lust was draining his strength, and I smiled compassionately
down on him, glad to be his dream come true and glad to be giving
him a gift he so earnestly wanted.
But I was indeed Trinity Barrett, and I was not one to go long
without getting my own needs satisfied. I unbuttoned my jeans and
pulled the zipper down slowly.
"I hope you're ready for this, Grandpa, because I don't think
I'm going to give you any choice." He showed his readiness for what
I was obviously going to do to him by helping me get my jean shorts
off. I reminded myself to take it easy and not hurt the old man,
then I took his face and head in both hands and pulled him to me.
He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, and I let him
lick the hairs out of the way and lick my pussy lips open. I
hunched. He fastened his open mouth in my cunt and started sucking.
He sucked and I fucked, holding his head and face and humped-up
in the classic suck-me-off posture. It was slow and maddeningly
sexy for me. I entered an indescribable dimension of almost
unbearable prurience, a deep and unsatisfiable loin lust in the very
process of being satisfied. It is that impassioned predicament when
your sexual being reaches critical mass that typically launches a
young person into orbit at the expense of sensuality -- not to
mention at the expense of the partner who momentarily ceases to
possess a personality or an identity. So I endured the torturous
rapture because I did not want it squandered in the mindless tyranny
of orgasmic chaos.
"Truh hnh uh," I heard him chant. A mantra? No, it's how my
name is pronounced when spoken into a gooey mask. Ok, so it could
have been a mantra for the old guy, a chanting of the name that had
acquired such meaning and magnitude for him through its forbidden
nature and its having had to remain a secret in his needy soul. I
had secured a higher and more forthright status, deeper and more
honest, in the mind of this beautiful old man of sincere integrity
than I had in the sleazy little mind of his wimp pervert of a son
who prayed to me as Goddess.
He was losing it down there, mild muscle spasms increasing to
trembling and then to vibrating and finally to violent shaking of
his whole body. My God! What if he had false teeth and I was
fucking them down his throat? I eased up to give him a chance to
pull away if he needed to. He didn't.
What was happening, of course, was that he was cumming in his
pants. I didn't know how much a man of fifty-eight cum, but it
obviously felt the same way to him as it did to me. He was having a
wild orgasm with the girl of his most secret desires doing to him
what he, uh, most secretly desired.
I let him finish and felt him sag. His arms lost their
strength, and his hands slid weakly down my legs and fell limp at
his sides.
"My turn, old man." I stepped one leg at a time over his
shoulders and tucked his face up in my crotch. I held him tight
because I knew it wouldn't take long. I would cum and let him loose
long before he could suffocate or drown.
I gave myself over to the natural workings of my body, still
humping him sanely and with the sensuality of a mesmerizing snake.
He summoned up a momentary surge of vigor that enabled him to stick
his tongue up inside me while holding his mouth open wide.
I went off like a shaken bottle of hot champagne with a weak
cork. Even as I cum deliriously, I thought of how wonderful the
experience must be for him. My legs he had only been allowed to
look at from a respectable distance for so long now squeezing his
face, my body glistening with sweat, my titties bouncing, the feel
of me all over him, drinking sex juice from a girl he had craved and
fantasized for who knows how long. I got as much pleasure out of
doing it for him as I got out of doing it to him.
When I was done in his mouth and face, I just straightened up
and let my arms hang at my sides. I worked my leg muscles on his
face without moving them. I figured he knew the scene was ending,
and I didn't want to just get off him abruptly like a cold whore
hollering "next." This was the most important day of his life, and
I wasn't about to rob him of the chance to take mental and tactual
pictures he could enjoy in his head for the rest of his life.
Well, I have to admit it was certainly a surprise day for me.
I never would have guessed old Mr. Atkins, Grandpa, my father's
mentor, a dignified man of wisdom and integrity who had known me all
my life, had come to see me as a woman and had found himself
involuntarily lusting on me.
He told me he never would have made a play for me, out of
respect for Jonathan and our history, if I had not gone around his
desk and deliberately, brazenly made it impossible not to. In fact,
when he had said "Can I kiss your legs, Trinity," he was talking
from a state of total confusion I created in him by my bold
presentation and readiness. He had said those words in his head so
many times in the last year that, in the jolting confusion of having
my legs so close and my attitude so compromising, he barely knew he
was saying them aloud.
You know, we never did get around to discussing what I had done
to Junior. Also, we never got around to discussing what was
happening in the church, the "demoralizing" of the saints by Satan
through some unseen hand. I had a feeling old Emmett Atkins knew I
was that unseen hand, and for reasons of his own didn't want the
full truth. He preferred his fantasy. After this day, he preferred
the reality of Trinity Barrett and the memories I gave him.
Loving old Mr. Atkins as a grandpa, even though I often let him
feel me or kiss me on the legs after that, made it hard to continue
doing what I was doing. But I did.
--end Chapter 8--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 20, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 20 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christianity, nasty.
Chapter Nine
Clifford Oates Lockery was the Sunday School superintendent. A
small-time actor before he got saved at the age of twenty-two in one
of Jonathan's revivals ten years earlier, Cliff loved skits and
plays. Over the years, he had gotten quite good at putting them
together, and Daddy had always seen to it that he got all the money
he needed for scenery and the like.
Never married, he was openly and happily the butt of playful
joking in our church and school community for his "eye for the
ladies," as it was put. It lightened a message on man-woman
relationships when Daddy referred to him. One of Daddy's funniest
sermons included the line, "That's why I love Cliff: he gives us,
uh, perspective." The crowd applauded. We were proud of our healthy
attitude.
The David and Bathsheba play I've mentioned a few times was
Cliff's brainstorm. The robe I wore and Bathsheba's sexiness was
his idea, too. Because it was Cliff, his personally darkening my
legs with body make-up was just amusingly risque. There was even a
picture of it in our church newspaper. Everybody was all smiles --
except Mr. Atkins, who got caught in the picture looking like an Old
Testament prophet hating the levity and sexual implication.
You know now, of course, what Grandpa was really thinking, and
it was anything but disapproving. It was envy at Cliff getting to
rub body paint on my bare legs.
What never seemed to occur to anyone was that Cliff must also
fuck from time to time. Wonder why they never thought of him doing
that. I guess our pride in our healthy attitudes would have been
sullied if we pictured Cliff actually getting naked with a big hard
prick sticking up in the air and fucking a naked woman with her legs
spread open. I still wonder why healthy attitudes have to exclude
the act itself. What is sex, anyway, dating? Holding hands?
Not for Cliff, it wasn't. Cliff Lockery fucked! Those of us
in the elite crowd, as the students called us, loved his
irreverence. Cliff once quipped that fucking was forbidden to our
Bible college students because we were afraid it might lead to
dancing.
I was in the television studio one day blowing Roosevelt
Brownman, our director of televangelism, when Cliff called him with
a new brainstorm. Roosevelt was a twenty-nine-year-old genius and
Clifford's best friend. We were doing our favorite thing. I was
under his desk sucking cock while staff were in and out having no
idea he was sitting there with his prong in the pastor's daughter's
mouth. Loved it.
Anyway, he answered the phone, and it was Cliff. His new idea
was for the Jonathan Barrett Ministries to produce a series of
one-hour movies depicting Bible stories.
"Great!" Roosevelt exclaimed. "I don't know why we haven't
thought of it before. Uhn, hunh, hunh, ohh. What? What funny
noises? Hunh huh huh huh, oh oh, ahhhh. What? Yes, as a matter of
fact, she is here. How did you guess?"
He held the phone down to me. "He wants to say hello."
"What are you doing, Trinity?" Cliff asked.
"Ummm, ummm, slurp, yummmmmm, ooooou," I explained.
Roosevelt took the phone back. I deep-throated him and tried
to see how long I could hold his prick down. I had mastered --
mistressed? -- the ability to work muscles in the back of my mouth
and down in my throat. It makes men go ballistic. I lip-viced the
base of his fuckstick at the same time and slid my tongue in and
out.
"Ohhhh, damn, damn, damn. Sorry Cliff. Oh, my holy God! Oh,
shit oh damn oh piss oh fuck oh suck."
I sucked my way up his uncircumcised mule dick and licked
around inside the foreskin. I had practiced so much on Roosevelt
that I learned a trick he said nobody had ever done but me. I
sucked the foreskin over my tongue and tickled the urethral opening
with the tip of my tongue.
He grabbed me by the head so I wouldn't move. I sucked the
foreskin and the end of his hard-on and licked in the hole. He
stiffened and gave me a primer of semen in the mouth. I sucked my
way down and did my deep-throat trick and was sucking my way back up
when his firehose started spurting for real. I swallowed as fast as
I could, alternating my focus between that and feeling it surge
under my lower lip and across my tongue before it cumblasted my
tonsils.
"Well, I'm just as sorry as hell, fella!" Roosevelt said to an
objecting Cliff on the phone. "I'd like to see you try to carry on
a sensi-huh sensi-huh sensible conversation while Trinity's doing
her number on you. What? She's washing me. Listen, what do you
have in mind for a movie? Our star is eager to know."
I was sucking up the cum off his balls, making extra nasty
noises just for effect. On him and me. When I got all I could, I
removed my trademark, a folded handkerchief this time, from over his
dork-threatening zipper and tucked his wang back into his pants and
zipped him up. When he signaled all clear, I scurried out from
under the desk before someone came in and made an obvious deduction.
"Cliff wants to know if you have any ideas for a movie. And he
wants you to be in it. You'll have to wear a black wig again,
though, and paint your beautiful white body."
I made a face. They knew I prized my natural blond hair and my
soft, milky white skin. "How about the story of Lot in Genesis 19.
His two daughters got him drunk and fucked him."
Roosevelt relayed the idea. "He doesn't think so."
"Ask him if there's any place in the Bible where a woman screws
two men."
Roosevelt asked. "He says lots of places but not at the same
time. What?" Roosevelt listened then asked me, "Are you interested
in doing a slightly revised version of Lot? You play a woman named
Lotta and we're your two sons."
I reflected on it. "Tell him I have an idea."
When an exciting and beautiful young damsel has an idea for
sex, adventuresome knights will take out their lances and ride hard
for her. Thus did Cliff and Roosevelt spend thousands of dollars of
church money on an elaborate scheme to make two sets of movies. One
series was their legitimate enterprise and would result in some
quite good features to be televised throughout the nation.
Taped at the same time were alternative versions of each story
using the same scenery. My adventuresome knights thought we were
doing only one porn skit which they would keep for their own
purposes. They would discover too late that they were committed and
in over their heads the minute they shared Darlene on camera.
They set up a scene in an unused room in the same annex where
Darlene and Christina lived. My contribution. I introduced them to
Darlene and Christina. The set looked exactly like a mountain cave
Lot and his daughters would have used. Darlene was perfect for the
part of Lotta who was to get porked by her sons, played by Cliff and
Roosevelt. They had had hard-ons for weeks in anticipation of our
little skit. Christina and I operated the cameras.
The story opened with the sons, two clean-shaven young Arabs of
ancient times, discussing their plight. God had destroyed Sodom and
Gomorrah and turned their father into a pillar of salt for fucking
the sheep he was supposed to sacrifice.
The firstborn, Cliff, said unto the younger, "With the
destruction of our cities, we ain't got nobody to fuck but Mom. Let
us go in unto her, for she's the best piece of ass in the land."
"Yea, verily," came Lotta's voice from the cave. "Get thy
great young dorks in here, for thy mother's juices doth flow for
thee. I ain't been laid for a *while*."
Lotta was sitting stark naked on a pallet of new grass, doing
her nails. Beside the pallet was a framed 8-by-10 glossy of
Jonathan Barrett. As her two sons came toward her, she turned the
photograph face down.
The men stripped on their way across the cave and stood on each
side of the most beautiful Arabian mother two boys ever had. Both
were erect and ready.
"Thy two cocks are maximum turgid, my sons. I will incorporate
them anon into my mouth, for I am an hungered."
And she did. They moved over her and she ran her hands up the
insides of their legs and massaged the cheeks of their asses. They
rubbed their distended cocks all over her face, in her eyes,
crossing each other back and forth on her open mouth, then taking
turns giving a big stroke into her mouth, one of them uncircumcised
and dark, the other having no foreskin and fair.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 21, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 21 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
Lotta paused, moved her head back and looked first at one cock
and then the other, puzzled. "Oh, well, thou art the products of my
fucking around on thy father. God, I miss Sodom."
"I'll give thee Sodom, Mamma," Roosevelt told her.
They lifted her to her feet and bent her over. Roosevelt, true
to his word, sodomized her from behind while Clifford fucked her in
the mouth.
"Suck that big cock, Mother."
"Take it all, Mamma."
They reamed and fucked and fucked and reamed, and Darlene
pushed and pulled and pulled and pushed. They had it down pat.
They both hunched into her at once, plugging her from both ends, and
I marvelled at Darlene's talent for taking two young men into her at
the same time. Her mouth was distorted over Cliff's huge member.
He stopped fucking and let her suck, but Roosevelt pumping her ass
moved her back and forth over Clifford.
Both men hunched forward and held themselves in her at maximum
depth. Cliff gripped her head and Roosevelt her hips. The only
movement was their vibrating. The seconds ticked away but they held
her fast and vibrated in her mouth and up her ass. Cliff let go of
her head finally, and Darlene escaped, gasping deeply for air and
panting loudly. She bent completely over and let Roosevelt have at
her. Cliff pulled her back up and twisted her head up by her hair
and rammed his big prick in her mouth again, fucking in and out with
long strokes. He withdrew and let her breathe as Roosevelt
continued to fuck her in the ass, then rammed it to her again.
Roosevelt was looking concerned. "Let her go, motherfucker,"
he told Cliff, and he lifted Darlene up in the air with his dick
still up inside her. She hooked her legs backwards around
Roosevelt's hips and straightened up on it. She wrapped her arms
backward around his powerful body. He had one arm around her
stomach and a hand on her breast. He let her do all the moving, and
she showed her ability to fuck in any position with any hole.
"Electric fan, electric fan, electric fan," Roosevelt blurted
out. Clifford broke up. Christina and I looked at each other
wondering what was going on. It was Roosevelt's trick for delaying
orgasm. He distracted himself, see, and thought about something
else?
He whispered something in Darlene's ear and leaned her forward
so she could put her hands on the floor of the cave. Cliff, himself
again, albeit with only a semi-hard cock now, stood astride her. As
Roosevelt started to withdraw, Cliff bent down and wrapped his arms
around Darlene. Understand, now, he was positioned over her back
and facing the asshole Roosevelt had been fucking. I got a little
nervous, but I shouldn't have. These men had obviously fucked
together before, and they had this choreographed.
I almost applauded when Cliff picked Darlene up and swung her
in a breathtaking loop as he stood up. Darlene ended up perched on
his shoulders with her cunt right in his slurping mouth. Fantastic
move! She looked about her rapidly, trying to figure out how she
got there. As experienced as she was, she had just learned one hell
of a new stunt.
She adapted right away to her new situation. She hooked her
feet together and held him by the head and fucked mouth. I knew what
it was like to have Cliff's long tongue up my cunt, and I knew his
soft-mouthed technique of sucking pussy, so I knew Darlene wouldn't
want off that face for a while. She wiggled and squirmed and fucked
and juiced and moaned and breathed heavily as he ate and sucked and
ran that long tongue in her.
With Cliff's help, Darlene started climbing. She climbed up on
his face and shoulders and squatted on his upturned face. She
humped him like a gargoyle taking a shit. She clung to his head and
used her legs on his face doing the squats and then riding a
bicycle, mauling him as she fucked his mouth. I had seen
constipated dogs go through fewer movements and contortions.
Fatigue, the enemy of the most fervid and compelling of sexual
activity, finally overcame her, and she slumped on her face perch
like the world's most beautiful and sexiest bird settling on an egg.
Perspiration stood out on her legs and body as she sat there
hatching his face.
Unlike his quim-soaked face which couldn't get enough of
femaleness, Cliff's neck simply could not take any more. He
supported her buttocks and back on his powerful biceps and forearms
and boosted her up enough for her to get her feet off his shoulders
and slid down the front of his body. His prick awaited her arrival
with a one-eyed vigil and seemed to be peering up at her as she
descended cunt first upon it. Cliff could not move his neck and
continued staring irrelevantly up at nothing as Darlene sunk slowly
down over his pole and wrapped herself around him. She was some
kind of strange animal fucking a tree of flesh. Cliff hunched
forward and leaned back and let her work on him. He was a doomed
victim resigned to being slowly consumed by the slick pulsating
female animal absorbing him.
His knees began to buckle. Roosevelt went behind him and eased
his descent to the floor. Darlene fucked him all the way down, an
unrelenting phagosome. She sat up on him and continued to rock on
the only part of him staying alive. Roosevelt opportunistically
stepped over Cliff and stood strong and fresh in front of Darlene.
She opened her mouth and accepted his arrogant maleness all the way
down her throat. She rocked on the passive and exhausted Cliff and
sucked on the cooperative and accommodating Roosevelt. Rocking and
sucking, rocking and sucking, rocking and sucking.
Cliff's body, reports of whose demise had been premature, began
jerking with the irresistible convulsions of male spirit. Almost at
once, Roosevelt emitted a bullish moaning grunt and began pumping
copious amounts of cum into her mouth. I saw the swallowing action
in Darlene's throat, but she couldn't take it fast enough. It oozed
out of her mouth and over Roosevelt's powerful organ. He was
fucking a mouthful of his own cum like it was a close-fitting spongy
cylinder of warm mayonnaise.
Christina and I watched in our trance-like state as the two men
filled her up from both ends. Darlene had cum so many times her
strength was sapped. She pulled back from Roosevelt and got a
couple of loads right in the face. Fucked beyond her incredible
endurance and thoroughly spent from repeated multiple orgasms, she
lowered her head and slumped forward between Roosevelt's legs and
lay exhausted on the comatose Sunday School superintendent.
Roosevelt, standing astride them with nothing to do, looked
into the camera and shrugged. Turning around, he masturbated on
Darlene's back and, unbelievably, shot another load on her and
strutted off full of energy. I could see Cliff and Darlene shaking
each other with laughter.
We had launched a new and important phase of our crusade to
choke the ministry on its own hypocrisy and on our cum. We starred
in all the porn skits, of course, and we made sure we appeared in as
many of the legitimate productions as we could, too. The bigger the
television ministry grew and the more Daddy became famous, the more
potent was the toxic seed growing inside it.
Darlene made a startling observation, however, in one of our
review sessions. We listed everyone we had fucked on tape or
otherwise sexed off on. We noted the extended sins we had caused,
including embezzlement of funds used to pay us. The list was
gratifying, and we clucked over our success and laughed at some of
the people we had seduced.
But I felt a gnawing pain in my gut at what we were doing to so
many to hurt only one. And he was the one I loved.
--end Chapter 9--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 22, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 22 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit, sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
Chapter Ten
"One of those national television news shows has been sniffing
around," Daddy said. "They want an interview with me."
We were in a meeting of The Elders, as they were known. The
Elders were twelve men who guided the Jonathan Barrett Ministries.
They met once a month with Daddy in our spacious living room in the
mansion. I was there simply because I wanted to be. Nobody dared
object.
"Nothing but trouble can come of it," Mr. Atkins said. "They'll
put us in a bad light no matter what."
"Emmett's right," said Freddy Moreland. "They smell something
here, and they'll do their level best to spread their slime on the
Ministries."
The youngest and newest member was greatly alarmed. He
predicted our total destruction. It was Clifford Lockery.
"Let's let them look anywhere they want," eighty-five-year-old
Tom Bradbury growled. "We've nothing to hide."
I looked around the room as Old Tom continued his unique
analysis. He was the only one there who had not swallowed pussy
fuck from my team of sluts. All the others knew what the television
show might well discover -- but each one thought he was the only one
of them trapped in my net.
My team and I had cum all over everything. Old Tom didn't know
it, obviously, but his wife, twenty-three years his junior, had
licked my pussy in his own kitchen while he dozed in his easy chair
in the living room.
My intention had been to spread my cum on the old man's life.
He was the only one of The Elders who had escaped us. I never got
anywhere with him. He missed every move I made. Always treated me
like a little girl no matter what I did. I had given up on him.
Indeed, my visits to see Old Tom and his wife Clara became a respite
from my salacious life.
I had continued to visit the Bradburys because it was peaceful
there and innocent. We played cards and chatted and planned little
events for the church. Then one day Clara and I were making cookies
for Sunday School kids to sell. I was wearing a white dress that
made me look angelically pure and a pair of white high-heeled pumps.
Clara had put an apron on me. I was Miss Housewife 1950.
It happened when a hunk of dough fell off my spoon as I stirred
the cookie batter. It fell on my shoe. Since I had my hands full,
Clara said, "Oh, dear! Here, I'll get that up for you."
She was down there with a hand towel before I could object.
But she wasn't doing anything. She wasn't even moving. She seemed
suddenly transfixed by the dough on my shoe. I stood over her
waiting. I wondered if the old lady was having a stroke.
"Clara? Are you all right?"
"Yes."
I took a slow breath and let it out. I looked down at the back
of her head. Her hair was pulled back in a sort of duck's ass bun.
She finally moved. Down. She was taking the dough off my shoe with
her mouth!
"What are you doing, Clara?" I asked softly.
"I like it down here."
"Ok, you like where you are. Do you know what you're doing?" I
was still entertaining the possibility that this ancient woman had
slipped a cog in her brain and I might have to get her to a
hospital.
"I'm sucking something nasty off your shoe. You are young and
I am old. You are beautiful and I am ugly. I am bowed low before
you where I should be."
I had long recognized the internal tug of war waged inside some
fundamentalists, pulling them back and forth between inflated
arrogance and a need for humiliation. But this old woman? Geez,
what a world! I let her finish her little chore. My shoe was
clean.
"Look up at me, Clara. How did you know I would go along with
this?"
"I've watched you trying to get Tom to respond. I knew he
never would. He hadn't the slightest notion you were anything but a
sweet little girl being nice to two old folks."
"But you did."
"Yes, Trinity. I knew. I watched you move and rub and touch
and cross your legs so he could see up your dress. Tom has always
been totally unaware of that sort of thing, the wiles and guile of
young women, but I have gone nearly out of my mind wishing I could
put my head up under your dress where those bare legs are."
Everything she said was so matter of fact. I saw no lust at all.
Weird.
I blinked and shook my head. "I can't believe this, Clara.
You should be ashamed of yourself. Have you no pride?"
"You won't tell anybody will you? I'd die if you did."
"No, Clara. I won't tell. My God, who'd believe it? Well,
we've come this far. Go ahead. Scoot under me."
She edged herself under me, and I felt her wrinkled old hands
on my calves and her lips kiss my leg. She hadn't discovered yet
that I wasn't wearing panties.
"Oh, dear!" I heard from under my dress. "I didn't think of
this, I guess."
I couldn't help chuckling. It had never occurred to the old
lady that there was a pussy involved. She touched her mouth to it.
I watched the outline of her head under my dress. I felt more
amused than bizarre. I felt the tip of her tongue on my vulva and
heard her smack her lips. She was down there tasting it carefully.
She sampled it again. The third time was a slow licking up and down
in my cunt. She stopped and tasted it in her mouth again, smacking
her lips.
"Oh, I quite like it!" she exclaimed, and she put her mouth in
it and sucked and sucked and sucked.
I pulled my dress up so I could see, and she stopped. She
peered at what she had been sucking and inspected my legs and felt
them.
"You are indeed a beautiful girl. And now, my dear, if you
will be so kind as to help me up, we must finish making these
cookies."
"Are you kidding me, Clara? Was that all you wanted?"
"I shall be eternally grateful, child. Perhaps we can do it
again some time." She patted my hand like a sweet old lady thanking
a little girl for bringing her a fistful of dandelions.
That was it. We made the cookies and took them to the church
so the kids could box them and sell them. It was the most dignified
and saintly cunt licking I ever had, and it was so matter-of-fact
and ended so politely, I had to think to be sure it had happened.
Amazing.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 23, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 23 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
As I sat there remembering, I suddenly realized old Tom was
asking me a question. "I'm sorry. I was somewhere else. What did
you say?"
"I was wondering, Trinity, what you thought should be our
approach to this news show thing."
I had fucked, sucked, or otherwise used every man in the room,
had sex with two of their wives not even counting Tom's, humiliated
one of their sons who still prayed to me, and sat naked and sweaty
on at least one family member of everyone there. I had made them
lie and steal for me and cover up what they were doing with me and
my team of sluts.
Tom Bradbury was the only member of The Elders who had done
nothing wrong, had nothing to hide, and had no idea what had been
happening.
I gave Tom my answer: "Tom, I think you'd better circle the
wagons." He disagreed. The others agreed. Daddy agreed with Tom.
Ah, television. So frigging mindless. My beauty was a magnet.
The stars, Jim Wells and Kathy Steward, came after me before they
even knew I was Jonathan Barrett's daughter. They saw me in the
choir, for crying out loud, and decided they needed to interview me.
The producer insisted the interview be conducted at the pool behind
the mansion. He knew the church was having a poolside party for our
young people who were graduating from high school and college.
"Don't worry about what you say, beautiful," said the producer.
"We just want you on camera with Jim and Kathy. We'll be doing a
voice-over and nobody will hear you. Wear something like you're
there to swim, ok?"
I wore a modest bikini. The whole thing was a vicious little
setup. Me in a bikini, a voice-over relating rumors about sexual
promiscuity, and two well-prepared interviewers thinking they had
found an unsuspecting bimbo daughter of a nationally known preacher.
Jim Wells and Kathy Steward were not the only ones with an
organization that could ferret out dirt on people. Darlene and
Christina had a lot of friends in low places. With almost unlimited
funds available to us through our tight grip on the genitals of key
people in Jonathan Barrett Ministries, we had found a beaut: Jim
and Kathy, the beautiful stars of tabloid TV had a little secret.
So I played the pool scene straight and let them plant their
salacious notions in the minds of their viewers. I deserved an
Oscar for appearing to be too stupid to know I was adding fuel to
the fire they wanted to burn us with.
That night, Jim and Kathy found out they may not be able to air
the interview they had taped no doubt with evil glee. Even as we
were talking, a tape was being delivered to Cheryl's Casino, the
resort hotel in Tahoe where they were staying. Where they were
staying and where they were fucking each other's brains out every
night. Both were married to other celebrities, both had children,
and both must have shit their pants when they watched the tape.
At ten-thirty that night, Christina called me from Cheryl's.
She said Jim had literally run from his room to Kathy's with the
tape in his hand. I called Kathy's room.
"Hi," I said like a bright-eyed bimbo. "This is Trinity
Barrett. Did you get my little gift?"
Forty-five minutes later, I was in the room with two very
scared television stars who could visualize their careers and their
lives sliding down the same toilet they had flushed other people
down to advance themselves and get rich. Not where they were
because of their brains, they didn't have the mental wherewithal to
remember they were sitting on the very bed on which they had fucked
on tape.
"What do you want from us?" Kathy said.
"I want to have sex with you," I said brightly.
They looked at each other, two trapped animals.
"Ok, so we have sex with you," Jim said. "Then what?"
"Then you have sex with me again," I said like a brainless
bimbo. These mental gnats had assumed that's what I was, and I was
rubbing it in for spite. "After that, you arrange for me to get a
job in your business. I think I'd be good at it, don't you?" I
didn't want anything of the sort, of course, but they needed a
sleazy motive. They bought it; the dumbasses still thought I was
just a bimbo looking to get famous in the glamorous world of
television.
"Kathy?" Jim checked.
"Why not?" she shrugged. "It'll be a new experience for me."
In one seamless move, I stood and pulled my dress over my head
and kicked off my shoes. Kathy gulped and her eyes bugged. Jim
whispered the Lord's name in amazement as he took in my body with
lusting eyes.
I watched Kathy's temperature rise as I vamped in front of her
feeling myself sensually. She was so entranced she seemed not to
notice that Jim was removing her blouse and slipping her skirt off.
I held her captive until he had her bra off, then I moved to her
where she sat on the edge of the bed.
I engulfed her in woman with my arms wrapped around her head.
She rubbed her face on my body and nudged my breasts while her hands
and arms explored my legs and hips and back.
Jim watched as he got naked. I was not surprised to see one of
the most beautiful male bodies I had ever seen. He was hairless
except for his pudendum and just muscular enough to make my mouth
water. His prick was turgid and as beautiful as his
well-proportioned body. The man's legs were male pretty, if you
know what I mean, smooth and clean and strong and male and oh, God.
I held out my arms to indicate to him where I wanted him, and
he got up on the bed and came to me. He squatted and braced his
legs lightly against Kathy's shoulders, and I pushed against her
firmly as I ran my hands over his god-like legs and got a good grip
on them. His powerful staff strained to reach the ceiling.
"Ohhh," he moaned when I took a mouthful of hard peter and
sucked on it. Oh, God, his almighty erection was Maleness itself,
and I worked on it with my lips and tongue and let him move my head
up and down on it as suited him. He moved my sucking face down and
back over a span of several inches for a while, then pulled my mouth
socket down over the entire length of his meaty tube. He developed
a rhythm so I would know when to breathe, all the way down and all
the way up clear out of my mouth, then all the way down and all the
way back out and oh, Jesus God Almighty, I got so turned on I didn't
think I could stand it. The slurping noise when we disconnected and
reconnected enhanced my lust.
Kathy, hugging my hips and legs and benefitting from our moving
flesh front and back, was wallowing in my body sweat and licking it
up like an addict. She slid her hand over my hip and down into the
crack of my ass. Keeping the grinding beat Jim had set, she pulled
on me and released me, pulled and released, pulled and released.
She extended a finger which probed my asshole each time she pulled.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 24, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 24 of 32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
She pulled and fingered and wallowed on the down beat as Jim's
prong went down my throat, and she released and gripped the cheek of
my ass and licked my sweat as he unplugged. The sounds filled the
room with a primitive trio and an age-old beat. Jim's ah-oomph-ha
ah-oomph-ha ah-oomph-ha was the rhythm bass tuba. My gasp for air
and the nasty kiss-suck sound of his cock leaving and re-entering my
mouth was the primal wind instrument. Kathy's high-pitched grunt as
my softness pressed against her face followed by her sweat-slurping
quick inhalation was a primeval string and jug combination.
The tune may not have hit the charts, but the beat was one that
three sexed-up naked young people could really get down to.
The stamina Jim's strong young male body exhibited was
praiseworthy. He had fucked long and hard, if you'll forgive the
pun, squatting and hunching and keeping his balance all at the same
time. I felt him trembling from the strain and let his legs slide
over my hands as he sunk back onto the bed. His eternal maleness
persevered beyond the endurance of his legs and refused a nap on his
belly. It was doing pushups while Jim regained his muscle tone.
I wanted it. I pushed against Kathy and raised my knee to the
bed as I started crawling over her. She slid under me and off the
bed, licking and feeling all the way. I crawled onto Jim and
straddled him facing his legs. El Persevero, his live-forever cock,
was ready. I positioned it and eased myself gloriously down on it.
It slid up and up and up, and I let my breath out in short aspirated
grunts as it slithered through the slick walls of my saturated chute
to maximum penetration.
I thought I was going to pass out from the intolerable pleasure
inside me. I had to raise myself up to ease the euphoric torment of
my hedonistic exhilaration. But rather than relieving the
unbearable jubilation in my depths, the cock-milking action of my
vaginal muscles grasping his sliding member immersed my soul all the
more in the carnal celebration progressing in my pit. There was no
escaping my titillating affliction. In a crescendo of pussy
thoughts driven into madness by excruciating and ineffable pleasure,
the core of my femaleness detonated and blew me into outer space. I
femaled into a supernova and validated the Big Bang theory of
creation. The atom of my womanness split and filled the universe
with Bartholin fluid.
That is to say, I cum like a six-pussied mammoth.
I crumpled half conscious on his king post and hung there
loosely like a skewered condor. Unable to resist, I felt myself
being lifted off his unrepentant spear and eased onto my back beside
him. As through a glass darkly, I saw a vision of loveliness take
my place as Kathy mounted him and laid her perfect body down on his.
I watched her slow-fuck him, lovers coupled together, flesh on
flesh, woman on man, cock sliding in cunt, mouths seeking mouths,
whole-body involvement of male and female. I had the strength only
to lay my hand on Kathy's back and feel the smooth movement of her
warm, wet, undulating female body fucking the man beneath her. I
lapsed peacefully into unawareness, subcortically participating in
their union even as I slept.
When I came to, it was a graceful awakening to a new vision.
My hand was no longer on Kathy's back but on her breast, and I was
squeezing it softly. Jim's muscular beauty sent shivers through me
as he fucked her. I scooted down and began sucking her titty and
feeling her, looking down her body at the action. She touched my
head tenderly and urged me toward the sexual union. I kissed and
face-wallowed my way down her body and over the Mound of Venus to
put my mouth on Jim's battering ram at the entrance to her tiny
cave. His hot tube of lust slid back and forth over my lips as it
pistoned in and out of her.
I sucked at their sexual union and felt myself becoming aroused
again at the commingling of tastes and sensations. I rooted in
Kathy's cunt hole, and my mouth became a spongy sleeve to guide
Jim's power pole as it plunged her depths. I became aware that
Kathy was urging me onto her face, and I threw my leg over her. She
serviced me in long, loving licks from my cunt to my asshole and
back. I felt her tonguing my anal orifice, and I sucked at her with
grateful vigor.
Kathy's hands moved over my legs and hips and along my sides.
She urged me gently to sit up on her face. I sacrificed my
two-course meal and accommodated her, knowing I would be back when
dessert was served.
She feasted on me. I sat up erect on her face and let her eat.
She ran her hands back and forth along my thighs, and I began
pump-squeezing her face with my legs and writhing on her. She found
new places to breathe as I moved around on her face. I knew her
increasing urgency from her quickening pace and faster head
movements. She was sucking harder and nastier and hunching Jim's
jackhammer harder and faster. Jim picked up the pace in her cunt,
and I fucked harder on her face.
Jim moved Kathy's legs over his shoulder and secured a firm
fuck hold on her. He was going to slam her good. I pulled my feet
up and squatted on her face so she'd have room to move when Jim
starting drilling for deep oil. She pulled me down onto her face,
and I fucked on her. She stuck her tongue up my ass, and I relaxed
my sphincters to give her better access. Jim began his denouement.
Faster and faster did he fuck, and her face under me kept time with
him. She sucked cunt, she sucked crotch, she sucked asshole. I
fucked her face. Jim fucked her cunt.
He stiffened and held himself in her, but he was too late to
postpone orgasm with the hovering technique. He shot into her like
a cannon, his astounding staying power finally having reached its
limits. I squashed down solidly in her mouth, and she deep-sucked
up inside my fuck hole. Jim was pumping his cum into her cunt, and
she was filling her mouth with female fuck. She sucked my cunt
juice out of me and into her mouth and drank liberally. Her hungry
cunt sucked Jim's cum out of his plunging hard cock and consumed it
with her own juices.
We fucked her face and cunt until Jim was empty and she lay
still.
I had waited long enough. I leaned forward and licked Jim's
smooth male chest and stomach. Kathy's face followed my cunt like
it was stuck in the woman goo. I rooted at their junction and
sucked up spilled man fuck. Jim withdrew and stuck his cummy prick
into my mouth. I sucked off the extra cum and woman goo, then dived
face first into the reservoir between Kathy's slick legs. She
wrapped her legs around my head and buried me in fuck slop as I
sucked and swallowed his cum loads out of her. I sucked all over
her down there, and she sucked out of me at the same time.
It was a sumptuous repast. Kathy and I rolled around on the
bed with our faces in cunt and our legs around each other's faces.
We sucked until both of us cum again and lapped up each other's
woman fuck.
We unsaddled and coupled face to face and slid around in each
other's arms, licking and sucking each other's fucked faces and
spitting to simulate more of the substance we couldn't get enough
of. Girl slime and man fuck and female sweat and woman spit. We
went to sleep kissing.
--end Chapter 10--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 25, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 26
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
I knew The Mole. I had fucked Paul Kennedy a few times. All
three of us had. Nothing extraordinary about him in bed unless you
consider a take charge-fuck-roll off-smoke-a-cigarette male as
extraordinary. It was always a nice simple fuck which I enjoyed.
Having sex with Paul was never the most significant thing about
being with him. He was fun and knew his way around. Conversations
never lagged. As far as sex was concerned, the most different thing
we had ever done was when I sucked his dick all the way down the
mountain from Tahoe in one of the church's fleet of cars.
He got in on the scene at the annex a few times. He fucked the
choir director's wife for us and a couple of visiting missionaries,
one of them in the ass. He was in one of our parallel skits, as we
called them; he played one of the two men Joshua sent out of Shittim
into the city of Jericho who were hidden by the harlot Rahab. The
Jericho whore is listed as an example of faith in the Epistle to the
Hebrews and in James as justified by faith. The Bible doesn't hold
a woman's profession against her. Christina played Rahab in our
porn version.
We knew Paul was a reporter. We brought him there, in fact.
Darlene had known him in New York, and we gave him the opportunity
of a reporter's lifetime. He could make himself a national name in
his business. His magazine went for it like ugly goes for moose.
In the third week of my fucking-to-forget fever, Paul called me
and wanted to see me. I met him at the Come Inn, a little hotel in
Reno that caters to people who want to watch adult movies and fuck.
You would think I would have showed up with a scimitar and
lopped his balls off, but I didn't. As soon as I walked into his
room, I fell into his arms and we kissed like two young lovers. I
had to get fucked before I could discuss the situation.
We undressed each other while we kissed. I started by
unzipping his fly and reaching in and fondling his soft peter. He
responded by pulling my tank top over my head and sucking my
titties. His peter grew in my hand as he sucked. I loosened his
belt and opened his pants and skinned them down his legs as I sank
to my knees. I kept his dick in my mouth as we got his pants off.
Still sucking his growing cock sticking out of his boxer shorts, I
slipped off his shoes and socks. I felt and kissed my way up his
body, and we wrapped our arms around each other in a long, sexy
kiss. I undid my skirt and let it fall, kicking it and my beach
sandals behind me.
I stood naked before him. He bent down and kissed my stomach
while removing his shorts, then went to his knees in front of me. I
held him firmly by the face and head and hunched his mouth
unhurriedly as he licked me and sucked me. Pushing him down a
little, I raised one leg over his shoulder and pressed it against
the side of his face. He rubbed his face in my cunt, rooting gently
with his nose until he actually got it up inside me. He tried to
inhale in it, and the strange new sensation made me gasp.
"Suck it down your throat through your nose. Snort my woman
cum directly into your brain. Fill your head with it."
My words heated both of us up even more than we were, and I
tried to drown him in fuck slop while he tried to breathe my cunt
slime into his mind and soul. I felt him making an attempt to
escape his gooey prison and tightened my hold with strong hands and
leg muscles.
"I'm filling your brain with pussy pollution. Breathe, snort,
suck. Inhale my stuff deeply into your very self. Let it seep into
your brain cells and engulf your being in a murky swamp of my ooze."
Nearing brain damage, he broke free of me finally and doubled
up beneath me gasping and holding his stomach. He aspirated the
stuff in his mouth and choked until his face began to turn purplish.
I stood over him not caring if he died, then walked over and relaxed
on the bed to watch him.
When he was able to breathe, he pushed himself up and looked at
me like a murderous savage about to attack. I wanted him to. Tears
streamed down his face from the physical strain he had endured. His
mouth was bleeding. His face was a mess of blood, sweat, tears, and
cum.
"You're insane," he growled through clenched teeth. "You ought
to be locked up. You tried to murder me."
"Come here and fuck my body."
His whole body moved with each breath he took. His rational
fear pulled him one way and his primitive carnality another. He
scanned his brain cells for one not immersed in my gravy and found
none that were not under the influence. He dragged himself to his
feet, and I saw that his cock had relinquished its blood to his
starving brain and hung there flaccid and irrelevant.
But not for long does the cock of a man remain extraneous to a
situation involving a naked personification of archaic lust older
than Reason. It began to rise like the resurrecting monarch it was
as he lusted on me. I slithered to the middle of the bed and,
propped up on my outspread hands, I brazenly spread my legs and
waited.
There was no way he was going to risk any more brain cells by
plunging his face again into my inviting soaked quagmire of crotch.
No. But the prick of a man slides in where logic fears to tread,
and he came to me intrepidly with his flagpole leading the way fully
erect.
He entered me pole first and laid on me. I wrapped around him
warmly and took his mighty maleness inside me. I kissed and licked
the bizarre and intoxicating solution off his face as he screwed me
methodically, pinning me down and holding me securely for fear I
might come off my hinges again and destroy him.
We moved together as only a copulating man and woman can.
Nowhere on earth is there a comparable machine so well oiled, its
parts fitting together so perfectly, its movements so uniquely human
and yet so singularly divine.
When he cum in me, there was no interruption of our embrace nor
of the fluidity of our movement together. I cum again and again as
he emptied himself in me and probed my depths with God's perfect
gift.
We lay yoked together in the timeless posture of man and woman
long after we had spent ourselves. He rolled off my grateful body
and out of my embrace, finally, and leaned against the bedboard. He
took a cigarette from the pack on the end table and lit up, the last
act in all of Paul's sex scenes.
"I called you," he said, "because Darlene and Christina were
worried about you. They said the article really threw you for a
loop. I knew you had no idea about the cover-up or that you were
the dead boy's masturbation fantasy. I should have told you before
you read about it."
"You don't owe me any apologies, Paul."
"I didn't say I did. As far as I'm concerned, you have to take
what comes when you enter a vicious world as the most vicious animal
in it. To tell you the truth, I have more respect -- and less fear
-- of mafia hoods than I do good citizens like you who scheme to
destroy innocent folks for no gain just so you can hurt a man you're
in love with. You're the kind of irrational and self-centered slime
I take great delight in exposing."
I didn't say a word. I got my clothes together, put them on,
and walked quietly out without so much as glancing at him. It was as
though I had gone into a toilet, taken a shit, wiped my ass, and
left. I had no feelings and was barely cognizant that he had been
there with me.
-end Chapter 11--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 27, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 27
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
Chapter Twelve
"Daddy?"
"In here, Trinity."
The living room. I pictured him naked with his beautiful cock
hard and waiting for me. Kennedy had taken care of my pussy, but I
had a craving only deep throating could satisfy.
There is nothing like it when that's what you need. The throat
has fantasies, you know, a memory of sensations. There is that
little moment when you're not sure you'll get the monster swallowed,
then the tongue drops on cue and the throat opens miraculously.
There's that little wet pop as a man's hard cock squishes a small
pocket of saliva and air out of the way, and down it goes.
I walked into the living room fully expecting to be able to
dive down in my daddy's lap throat first. When I walked in,
however, it was not as I had pictured it. Daddy was on the couch,
all right, but fully clothed. To his left in a rocking chair was
Mr. Atkins, Grandpa.
The mind shuts out the incredible for the sake of mental
economy, so I saw the other two people last. Across from Daddy sat
Darlene, apprehensive and tentative. I stared in disbelief and
confusion. Shaking off the illusion, I looked to Daddy to get my
bearings. It was not until then that I saw Christina sitting beside
him. His arm was on the back of the couch, and she rested her head
on it when I looked at her. In spite of the situation, I let my
eyes trail along her beautiful legs stretched out from under her
shorts to her bare feet crossed on the small padded footstool in
front of her.
I recuperated fast. "What are you, Grandpa, the referee?" I
said to Mr. Atkins.
"I asked Emmett to be here," Daddy said. "I think we need a
steadying influence in this situation, don't you?"
I had an impulse to go wild on them. As you know by now, it is
my characteristic defense to surprise situations that are supposed
to catch me off guard. For some reason, it was Christina who was my
mind's focus. I vacillated between jerking her pretty ass off the
couch and taking her place beside Daddy and deep throating her
pedicured foot with its red toenails. The choir director kept them
beautiful for her.
I started toward Christina figuring I'd make up my mind by the
time I reached her. She jerked her feet off the footstool and sat
up, no doubt thinking I was going to start with her and trash the
place and everybody in it. I straddled the footstool and looked
around at them.
"Well," I said, "who wants to go first?"
"We've told Jonathan everything, Trinity," Darlene volunteered.
"He knows everything about us and everything we've been doing."
I looked at Grandpa skeptically. He shook his head in quick
little movements, eyes darting at Daddy. Daddy didn't know about
Mr. Atkins's fetish with my legs and crotch. I winked at him. He
blushed. I reached over and ran my hand along Christina's leg and
lifted her foot to my lap. Actually, I needed something to do with
my hands. I massaged her.
"You fucked my sister," I said bluntly to Daddy.
"Yes. I fucked your sister. I didn't know Christina was my
daughter, not that it makes any difference."
"That all right," I said, "I sucked where you fucked."
Mr. Atkins cleared his throat. "Jonathan and ladies, I'm
perfectly willing to do what I can to help, but I find myself more
than a little distracted by this language."
I ran my hand along Christina's leg and smiled knowingly at
him. "Is that all that distracts you, Grandpa."
He watched my hand longingly, then cleared his throat and
averted his eyes to Daddy.
Daddy laughed. "Emmett, relax. I knew what would happen when
I left Trinity in your office that day. It's time for all of us to
get honest."
That was the start of a family encounter group I dare say only
a family like mine, if there is one other than mine, could have
withstood. The details of it are unimportant here, and I won't drag
you through the emotional groundswell of those hours. I know you're
looking for the next sex scene, and you know that's where we ended up.
Mr. Atkins was, naturally, the only one among us too inhibited
to do anything in front of anybody. We left him in the living room
with Christina, his brand new adopted granddaughter with full,
shapely, long legs and an experienced expertise in making his kind
of fantasies come true. I took Mommy and Daddy by their hands and
walked backwards with them toward Daddy's bedroom. Just as we
entered the hallway, I saw Christina go to Grandpa and get on his
lap. She was giving him titty as we disappeared out of sight, and I
knew they would both enjoy their playtime.
That irrepressible craving in my throat made introductory play
impossible. Daddy and Mommy were still holding hands when I
unzipped Daddy's pants and went down on him as they watched.
"Not your run-of-the-mill family reunion," I heard Darlene
observe. "Do you love her, Jonathan?"
"I love her very much, Darlene."
I heard a rustle of clothing as Mommy shucked her dress, and I
felt her legs slide over me as she straddled my shoulders. They
were kissing passionately above me. Daddy's prick swelled and
lengthened in my mouth. I kept it there and sucked while I worked
his pants loose and pulled them down. He stepped out of them and
pulled his shoes off awkwardly, still kissing Mommy and still
getting his dick sucked. I got his socks off, and Mommy got his
shirt off.
She sucked his titties and hugged his magnificent body, and I
hugged his legs and deep throated him. When his big tube of meat
first went down my throat, all tension left me. I've always been
surprised at how much of what we think is spiritual anxiety is
resolved by liberation from crass physical tension. No amount of
emotional rending of ourselves in our family encounter group could
have done for us what open sexual intimacy was doing for us.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 28, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 28
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Chritians, nasty.
My throat's hunger eventually satisfied, I sank down and kissed
my daddy's legs. I felt my mother move farther over me, and she and
Daddy renewed a naked embrace that had started two decades earlier.
Her sexy legs rubbed the sides of my face as she hunched against
Daddy's ever-hard prick.
I pushed my head back between Mommy's pretty legs, and she
opened them so I could root up in her crotch. I had parental love
aplenty now. I held on to the back of Daddy's leg with one hand to
keep from falling backwards and felt Mommy's leg with the other
hand. She developed a rowing motion that allowed her to wipe her
cunt, crotch, and ass in my face on the back-and-down stroke and
work herself against Daddy's big club on the forward-and-up stroke.
She stood still and let me suck while they held each other
above me and kissed. Long, deep kisses between my mother and father
locked in each other's arms. A daughter's repressed dream now real.
I looked up my mother's back, loving her lewdness as I had loved it
the first time I saw it in that New Orleans hotel. I thought for a
second I smelled gumbo again as I had then.
I loved the slight inward turn of Mom's lower back, the gentle
valley which blended into the outward turn of her upper back, the
hypnotic swaying to and fro of her hair as she kissed Daddy and
rubbed mother sex in my mouth. I watched Daddy's hands roam over
her sexy back and her rounded hips. He grasped her cheeks and spread
them for me, and I went up with tongue pointed to service my mother's
pink little asshole.
Her anus flinched and puckered when my tongue touched it. I
licked her asshole and tasted its distinctive taste. She was able
to relax, and I was able to insert my tongue up her rectum. I heard
a gasp from up above and wriggled my tongue as much as possible in
my mother's corridor. Daddy loosened his grip on the cheeks of her
ass and squeezed my face with them. He opened and shut them on my
face as I sucked and tongued Mommy's beautiful, sexy ass.
When you suck asshole long enough, there comes a point at which
you are abruptly taken up in a rush of consuming lust. It comes upon
you without warning. You're sucking and feeling and tonguing and
licking and looking and enhancing your pleasure by thinking about
what you're doing, and WHAM! In an unexpected twinkling of an eye,
you are suddenly assaulted by a flash flood of lust that lurches
through your loins and pervades your entire body.
It's the closest things to instantaneous orgasm you can have
without having one. I went nuts between Mom's asscheeks. The woman
with the sexiest, lewdest body I've ever lusted on must have
expected it, having the range of experience she had, because she
knew what to do. She went back to being Darlene in my mind, since
what she did next wasn't all that motherly.
Daddy got momentarily out of the way when the womanquake hit.
Darlene bent over and reached between her legs and grasped me around
the back of my head. She ass fucked me in the mouth. My hands went
all over her. I couldn't feel fast enough and sensually enough at
the same time. Darlene, my beautiful, tempestuous whore-mother
fucked rapaciously and I sucked wildly at her shitpit.
She lowered us down to the plush carpet to keep from breaking
my neck, and I felt my head sink into a pillow Daddy had wisely
provided when he saw what was happening to his wife and daughter.
Mom sat on my mouth and moved seductively as I continued my
not-so-graceful ravenous feeding frenzy.
My hands couldn't make up their minds. They felt Mom's
licentious body as she moved, they found her legs and pulled her
down harder on my face, they squeezed my tits, they clawed at my mad
pussy and slapped it. I was jerking all over in a sex fit and could
find no release.
My parents in their wisdom knew what to do. Mom grabbed my
breasts and twisted and squeezed hard while Daddy pried my hands
away from my cunt and held them down as he rammed into me with all
his powerful thrust. He fucked me hard. Hard, hard, harder! He
ravished my applauding cunt while keeping my dangerous hands pinned
to the floor. Mom twisted and squeezed my breasts roughly and
ground herself into my face and mouth.
We all three cum at the same time, my mouth sucking Mom's cum
into itself hungrily and my cunt sucking Daddy's cum into itself
with an abnormal neediness not known among mortals or gods. We were
a trine of demented demons lost in a boiling cauldron of steaming lust.
We went at it forever, the three of us screaming animals in the
throes of mind-blowing rapture humans are ill-designed to withstand.
Our coasting down was a never-ending tough withdrawal period
punctuated by aftershocks that threatened to shatter us. Daddy
lurched and spurted again, and I responded by another wave of deep
vaginal orgasm which tossed me about like Legion. My jerking face
sent Mom off again, and I sucked in another mouthful and drank it.
Daddy was the first to collapse. Drained of juice, he jerked
from dry orgasmic aftershocks when he fell by the wayside. Mom lay
herself down on my body and sucked Daddy's cum out of my cunt as I
wrapped my legs around her head, my arms around her body, and
cleaned her gently with my tongue.
Christina strolled through the door, full of energy, and stood
midst the orgiastic aftermath. "Any leftovers?"
My mouth and pussy were satiated, as was my throat. Darlene's
pussy and asshole had been used and cleaned, and her mouth was full
of daughter fuck and daddy cum. Daddy's dick was taking a nap after
its valiant performance down my throat and up my cunt.
"Daddy's mouth," I reported. "Everything else in the room has
temporarily retired. What happened to Mr. Atkins?"
"Poor old fellow. He kissed me all over. Then he was lying
flat of his back on the floor, and I walked over and put my foot in
his face, and he cum in his pants. He went home."
She walked over to Daddy and looked down at him. "Hi, Daddy."
"Your sister anesthetized my penis."
"Wanna suck some daughter fuck?"
He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Christina stood
astride his face and lowered herself slowly down to his waiting
mouth. She closed her legs over his face and rode at a fast trot.
Daddy ran his hands over those goddess legs and hips and up his
daughter's back. Christina spread her legs and rested her wrists
on her knees. With her feet beside his face and her legs bent out
over him, she looked for all the world like a beautiful human frog
sitting comfortably on her lily pad ready to jump. She had to
stretch her neck and bow it slightly to look down and watch him
lick, and something about that picture made it stick in my mind to
this very day.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 29, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 29
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
"Lick, Daddy."
Oh, God, there she went with the words that drive me crazy and
send men into orbit. Unconsciously, I had adopted many of her
strange expressions, but they always sounded sexier when Christina
used them.
"Suck daughter fuck, Daddy."
Never spoken harshly, never an amateurish attempt to make it
sound nasty, never melodramatic or artificial, Christina would
simply say the words in that boudoir velvet voice and send chills up
my spine and a tingling through my loins.
"Incestuous lust in your mouth from your sexy daughter fuck
fuck fucking in your mouth mouth mouth."
God, that voice. You could cultivate orchids in it. If
Christina spoke to a potato, a cook would have only to mash it and
serve it.
"Mushy mushy gooey gooey girl fuck slime."
On the other hand, her brain's verbal facility was sometimes
the unwitting fool of her pussy, a relay station that did the best
it could to translate primeval messages from her cave into words
simulating real language. Still, what she said had a certain
primitive if arcane logic, don't you think?
"Hunh hunh hunh fuck, hunh hunh hunh fuck, hunh hunh hunh
fuck."
A prehistoric cadence which archaeologists found inscribed on a
clay phallus twenty thousand years old. Some scholars believe
extraterrestrials introduced the meter to the planet. Others are
convinced the beat and the phallus on which it was etched are unique
to Earth and its creatures.
"Ohhh, shit my fuck! Aieeee, Daddieee! Sweet cumming Jesus my
sweat cum fuck eat sex spit slime goo fuck."
Most definitively unique to our species. A later evolutionary
development, I believe, when the human brain passed from preverbal
to inchoate speech patterns. Early attempts to articulate orgasmic
convulsion have never really been improved upon in spite of sincere
efforts of writers and linguists through the ages of written and
oral history.
Christina thrashed and writhed and screamed and moaned in the
desultory drama of her sexual seizure. Rendered completely
inarticulate now, she babbled in indecipherable noises of exotic
tongues never heard in this galaxy. At the end, she just sat
slumped over on Daddy's face, involuntary tremors convulsing her
randomly in aberrant paroxysms as though impish demons were smiting
her and darting away.
When Daddy lay her backwards on his body, I beheld the
awe-inspiring resilience of the male apparatus. So did my mother
who had been watching from her sticky vantage point on my Mound of
Venus where her face had been resting.
She crawled off me and toward the beacon of my father's
lighthouse. Christina, her face upside down on Daddy's belly, must
have seen a most peculiar vision in her delirium, for Darlene
straddled the redolent tower of love which leaned nonchalantly
against her daughter's forehead.
I crawled toward their junction and viewed the scene in
close-up from the backside. It was a weird stroboscopic effect that
was produced by my mother's up and down movements on Daddy's erect
cock as they fucked in their daughter's faces. When Mom went up, I
peered briefly into the inverted eyes of my sister until Mom's
descending ass and cunt momentarily cut off the view.
Too long at that causes eccentric discharges of neurons across
the brain, a waking nightmare of upside down eyes, penises, mother
organs and father symbols, a veritable kaleidoscope of distorted
percepts. When these are mixed with the human brain's inherent
attempt to synthesize its experiences into a coherent understanding,
the result is a frightening symbolism of psychosis.
Christina and I must both have feared mental derangement from
it, for we moved at the same time to participate in the parental
coupling. Turning our heads sideways, we met face to face with our
mouths forming soft braces at the base of our father's maleness.
Fearing she would tamp her daughters flat from her pile driving
action, our mother found a pace and force that contributed pure
sexual delight to all four of us. As Christina and I tried to kiss
and tongue each other's mouths around Father Lingam, Mother Yoni
descended and sandwiched our faces in the squishy parental union of
genitalia which had created us. The symbolism augmented the
carnality, and Christina and I masturbated as Mommy and Daddy fucked
on our sucking faces.
Myth, taboo, totem, and archetype came together in our ancient
souls, and we partook of each other in a family ritual that seemed
itself older than dawn. I pictured myself in a mountain cave of
prehistory safe from predators engaging in a familial tribal
ceremonial which gave honor to the gods, themselves incestuous and
concupiscent. The gods and goddesses of reproduction, of fertility,
of male and female principle, were surely as much the deities of
humans as of crops, and our union was deified by principalities of
nature older by millennia than any god known in written history.
Besides all that, we cum all over the place, Christina and I
competing for mother fuck and daddy cream while being bashed into
near senselessness.
It was a scene -- nay, a sacred pagan sacrament -- we would
repeat many times in the years to come, for we had bonded that night
and vowed our union would never split asunder no matter what befell
us. We were more than a family in a modern world, a mere
sociological institution sanctioned by the state. No, we were an
ancient tribe, a people blessed and sanctified by Nature Herself,
fused inseparably into a unit that would withstand the attempts by
man and God to sunder it.
That is to say, we were the cummingest goddamned family that
ever lived and intended to stay that way.
Ricky Alvarez, doctor of sociology, called me one night with a
finely tuned argument for letting him come over and fuck me and
Christina and Darlene. He pointed to a fact of anthropology which
the family took seriously: exclusive tribes that did not interfuck
with outsiders had always become extinct.
We decided to include selected others in our activities while
maintaining our core commitment to the tribe of Barrett and Maynard.
We made a list and began immediately.
--end Chapter 12--
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 30, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 30
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
Chapter Thirteen
High on our list were Jim Wells and Kathy Steward, the former
television news stars. I say former because The Mole had exposed
not only their love affair but also their three-way with me. His
magazine had paid our detective for a copy of the tape of the three
of us in Kathy's hotel room. They became immediate stars in adult
videos when the scandal destroyed their careers and their marriages.
They were good to watch together. Our business always got a big
boost.
Oh, yes, our business. We had to give up the ministry, of
course. The National Personality articles pulled no punches. Our
names and faces were better known than the President's. We
capitalized on it. We entered a new business which was not only
more profitable than our ministry had been for us, but also more
honest -- for us, I mean.
Trinity Productions. Videos, books, magazines, and the most
exciting adult entertainment house in the world. We were
headquartered in Storey county only an hour's drive from Reno.
Prostitution is legal there, and we developed the most creative menu
ever. Daddy was CEO since he really was a master manager of a big
business. Mom ran our whorehouse, Sisters of Sierra, a name we
borrowed from Kennedy's article on Christina and me.
The most exciting thing for me was getting to know so many
stars in our business. It was a cunt-gladdening experience to learn
that most of them were even sexier and more uninhibited than they
were in the videos. You'll understand if I do not identify them too
clearly.
There was one porn star named Barbara I had long admired.
That's putting it mildly. I had a collection of every tape she was
ever in. I was in her fan club and used to write letters to her all
the time through a magazine and tell her I was in love with her.
Her return letters were a love-struck young girl's treasure. The
only time I ever got mad enough to hit Daddy was when he tried to
tell me her letters were probably written by some male writer on the
magazine and that I just had a school-girl crush.
I was already famous and well beyond crushes when I finally got
to meet her. Daddy had made a deal to let my favorite producer use
our facilities to make a movie.
"I have a special birthday present for you, Sweetheart," Daddy
teased. "I think you'll like it."
"A new car!"
"You already have three new cars. This is something you don't
have, something I happen to know you want."
"Give it to me, give it to me!" I said excitedly.
"You have to join Paul and me for a late dinner at Cheryl's
Tahoe."
"Oh, Daddy! Paul's a great producer and director, and I love
him in bed, but business talk is boring, boring, boring." I bored my
finger into his navel. "I pass."
"No present."
I went, of course. Paul was waiting at our reserved set of
semi-circular booths in a special section. So were about twenty
other people, including my family and some friends and some folks I
only knew from videos. Everybody started singing Happy Birthday.
Then I saw Barbara was sitting beside Paul. She wasn't
singing. She was just looking at me with that incomparably
beautiful face, smiling at me. She knew! They had told her about
my infatuation with her, and she knew she was my special present.
When she smiled that Barbara smile, her entire face smiled.
Her eyes smiled, just like they do in the movies. A calm,
beautiful, California-healthy smile that made you feel good. You
felt like you were in the presence of a gracious princess. I felt
like inferior people in high school must have felt when they were
near me and I smiled at them and accepted them into my presence.
I scooted around the booth to her. We looked at each for an
electrifying moment, her most excellent radiance outside the range
of belief. In person and up close. That face, those twinkling
eyes. Her delicate sweet breath, the light scent of honeysuckle
emanating from her. I was mesmerized.
"I love you," I said numbly. My IQ had dropped about fifty
points.
Barbara leaned to me and kissed me right on the lips! I felt
myself going limp. Her mouth followed mine as I sank bank against
the booth. I barely heard the others applauding and hooting. She
touched my face and chewed slowly on my mouth. All my soft
reflexes, uh, reflexed. I chewed back. Her tongue entered my mouth
deliciously. I reciprocated with my own, and we lollygagged in each
other's mouths, sucking tongues, wallowing, deliberately swapping
saliva.
My free hand found her bare thigh under her short flowing
skirt, and I jumped when I touched it, realizing whose it was. My
God, I was touching a leg I had yearned to feel. Barbara's legs
were the most beautiful in the business, and I had seen them only on
television screens. Smooth and full, proportioned and shaped to
compel desire. I pictured them as I moved my hand up her leg and
stroked its fullness and smoothness and squeezed the pliable,
womanly flesh. The front of Barbara's leg, the side of her leg, the
back of her leg. I pictured a scene I saw her do where she had laid
that very part of the back of her leg on a woman's face. And now I
was actually feeling it.
She drew back slightly and let me look at her. She inserted
two fingers into my mouth. I gazed into those eyes and looked all
over her face still in a dream that it was really Barbara. She held
me by the back of my neck and sensually finger-fucked my mouth. She
shared her fingers with me, first in my mouth, then in hers, then
mine. Face, leg, mouth, Barbara, all of heaven in one woman. One
by one, she inserted all her fingers into my mouth. Her perfect
face, never distorted as some actresses do, her fingers, the hold
she had on me, her breath on my face, her smell, her softness, her
Barbarousness.
"Get down under the table and suck me off," she breathed.
Just like her movie scenes. She always controlled the action,
and whoever was with her of either sex was always glad to follow her
lead. I had read an interview of another famous actress who said
she had sex with Barbara on screen and then showed up at her home
for more. She said she almost gave up men altogether after sex with
Barbara.
I wasn't about to give up men by any stretch of the
imagination, but for that moment no one existed in my world but
Barbara. I would have done absolutely anything she wanted right
then.
She urged me down and I slithered off the seat like a melting
snake until I was on the floor with my face between her legs. I
rested my chin on the seat and peered into womanhood of the first
order as she pulled her skirt slowly up and clear over her soft,
luscious stomach. There was Barbara's pussy, not the grotesque
unshaved pussy of porn video but the blond, well-groomed, soft, warm
fuzzy of a real pussy. There was her famous tatoo inviting me to
kiss it, but I stayed where I was letting indelible memory images
burn themselves into my brain. I whispered her name over and over
to be sure those images were always associated with Barbara.
She understood completely and sat above me permitting me my
visual brain feast. I felt her calf muscles and memorized her legs,
every movement creating a new memory to blend with every other of
muscle and tissue interplay. The fine girl-down of blond hairs on
her belly and stomach, the alluring, trance-inducing up-and-down
movement of her stomach when she breathed. Her rounded succulent
breasts now exposed to my lusting eye when she opened her blouse.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 31, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 31
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
I was grateful there was no director moving us around or
switching my view before I was ready. Barbara would determine all
that for me with her innate sense of timing.
The calf muscle in my left hand flexed, and I felt from calf to
foot as she raised one leg. I slipped her shoe off as it passed
the screening station of my hand. When she put her bare foot in my
face, I grabbed myself between my legs and squeezed. I manipulated
myself in time with Barbara as she pushed her foot against my face.
God, what a woman it takes to understand so much. Only a woman
like Barbara knows that everything is sensual, every place on her a
source of erotic pleasure both for her and for her consort,
everything from the pretty bow in her pretty hair to the bottom of
her foot. I licked the bottom of Barbara's foot! I couldn't
believe I was getting to do that.
I understood why women must have fallen in love with her as
easily as men. She knew. This woman knew, and she was bold enough
to do what she wanted to do without concern for whether it was
acceptable or embarrassing. She knew to act on what pleased her and
not to worry about whether it might also please her partner. Her
sex partners had the same freedom; it was up to them to use it, not
up to her to wonder what they wanted. She did whatever turned her
on. If her partner was passive, she used them. If her partner was
active and creative, she cooperated equally with them.
My tongue committed the lines on the bottom of Barbara's foot
to memory. I traced them with the end of my tongue, I licked with
the flat of my tongue, I kissed and drooled on the bottom of her
foot like a food fiend with a chocolate eclair. The pace of my
masturbating hand measured my increasing excitement. When Barbara
moved her foot down my face and pushed all five toes into my mouth,
I was so glad and thankful I wanted to cry from a sense of
overwhelming gratitude for what she was willing to do.
She was rubbing her pussy as I sucked her toes and felt her
legs. The moment was nearing now, and I would be tasting her and
having her in my face. I knew from having watched her so many times
that it wouldn't be a simple she-sits-there-while-I-suck fuck.
Barbara was known for uninhibited positions you'd think you'd see
more of but seldom do in porn flicks. I loved it when Paul was the
director because he backed the camera off so you could see.
Paul! My God, I had forgotten he was sitting beside her. I had
forgotten where I was and that there were a good twenty people in
our party. When Barbara slipped her foot out of my mouth, I looked
around as best I could from under the table. Most of them had
forgotten me, too.
Paul had his pants clear off and was masturbating slowly,
watching Barbara and me.
I recognized Daddy's beautiful erection in the mouth of an
actress named Robin who could ejaculate like a man when she cum.
That was, if I was not mistaken, Christina's foot probing up into
Robin's twat.
Yonder was my mother with Peter's dick in her mouth; Darlene
was probably the only one there who could take Peter's pressure-
boiler of copious white cum and not get any on the seat. Or the
ceiling, in Peter's case.
I made a mental note to arrange a three-way with Peter and
Robin, the geyser and the gusher. I would swim and bathe in their
cum, wash my hair in it, gargle it.
Say, I wonder if you could bottle that stuff and sell it as
mouthwash or shampoo to an informed citizenry. It would be the only
alcohol-free mouthwash on the market. Safe to swallow and
inherently fortified with protein. Can you see the ads? For people
who want their breath to smell like the stars'. You've heard of
summa cum laude, the highest grade average; now there's Trinity Cum
Swallowit for your sexiest breath. As long as we didn't let
Christina name the products, we'd be ok. WomanFuck Breath. Use
CuntSlime Deluxe for those close moments. Enriched with Bartholin
to keep that sheen in your hair. Oil of Twat, a natural lubricant.
Wonderful if swallowed. We could manufacture our own chewing gum.
Barrett's Bubble Cum, all you do is stick your tongue in it and
blow.
Barbara had turned us both around while I was exploring
merchandising possibilities. Sorry you missed that. My head and
upper back lay on the seat, and Barbara was giving me sex in the
mouth. A forward face fucking as only Barbara can administer it.
No one who has sex with Barbara ever feels like they're sucking or
fucking a disembodied body part. She looks at you, touches you,
crinkles her eyes, shows her dimples when she smiles at you. You
know you are with someone, a person with a personality who knows
you're there with her.
And, oh my God, can she fuck a mouth! I looked up the length
of her sexy body and into her eyes and back down as she fucked and I
sucked. Even when my vertical panorama was narrowed to eye-to-cunt
contact in her crotch, I still felt like I was with a real human
being who could say my name if she chose and look me in the eye when
we were done. I also knew there was a moment during a Barbara
orgasm when only her pussy and private thoughts and secret language
were known to her and that I would be a thing for that moment.
She began to tug at my head and face and I felt hands on my
breasts which groped their way down and under my buttocks. It took a
little study midst my sucking off Barbara to realize she and Paul
were moving me around to get me up on the seat so Paul could fuck
me.
"Fuck her face," Paul said. Forever the director, I guess, but
watching Barbara use my mouth had to be a turn-on for this horny
cockster. She was his favorite star.
No doubt a turn-on. He had been masturbating and watching, and
now he entered me and was fucking me. He didn't last long, but it
felt good while it did.
Barbara decided to stand over me awhile. Unless you've been
there -- and many have -- you cannot imagine the sights and
sensations you experience when Barbara rises to her feet over your
face. Unlike what they show you in porn flicks, Barbara gives you
plenty of time to enjoy gazing at her. She'll be looking down at
you much of the time, so you continue to know you're a real person
interacting with a real person. When you're with Barbara in
reality, there is no thought of using a fast-forward button.
Beside your face are her ankles. Don't leave them out: they're
part of Barbara. The ankles are connected to the: shins of her.
The calves of her legs are: glor-ious. Right above them are her:
knee caps. Around on the back are the: knee backs. The knees are
connected to the: thighs of her.
Pause wherever you will, it is Barbara Herself who is standing
above you with all the confidence that comes with being who she is.
Look at that stomach and think how much you want to bury your face
in it. Those tits of perfect size for her. And there is that
wonderful face. She may be smiling, or she may be simply looking at
you without expression. It depends on the mood she prefers at the
moment. She may even be looking off, and you can work that into
your preferred fantasy easily enough. Unlike some actresses,
though, she will not be gawking up at the ceiling because there is
nothing up there that's relevant and because it doesn't fit any
fantasy.
Ah, fantasy! Without it, we are animals and sex is mechanics.
Nothing is more real than Barbara, but she understands fantasies and
gives you plenty of opportunity to construct them.
Did I not mention her crotch and pussy in the inventory just
now? That's because they are on their way down to your eyes. You
are possessed by the ripples and indentations created in her legs as
she lowers herself slowly down on you. If you have your hands on her
calves, you feel the soft ridge and valley formed by the flexing
muscles there. Look up at her inner thighs, though, for there you
will behold a lustworthy sight found nowhere else in the universe
but on a woman. Close your eyes a moment and picture that. Now
remember that I was looking at it in real life. Understand what I
was going through? The thrill is almost unbearable.
[[ Cont. in The Book of Trinity 32, by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma) ]]
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
The Book of Trinity 32/32
by "Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)
Keywords: religion, incest, obsession, fetishism, explicit sex,
D/s, algolagnia, MF, FF, revenge, offensive to Christians, nasty.
"Barbara," I prayed weakly. "Barbara."
No expression on her lovely face. No answer. God, what
a perfect woman with perfect wisdom and understanding of the
importance of mood.
I became aware that one of the actors had jacked off on
me and had shot his load on my tits and stomach. I rubbed it
all over my tits and licked my fingers.
"God damn, this young stuff is a turn-on! I'm coming
back for seconds. I got to get inside her." It was Jerry.
A good actor, one helluva lay, and a clown.
"Somebody fuck me, for God's sake," I pleaded with the
little breath I could spare. Barbara was poised not more than
a cock-length above my face, and I needed to go off.
She decided to reverse herself and sit facing the other
direction. She stood up and turned around and started back
down. As her magnificent ample buttocks descended, I glanced
down to see that Jim Wells was answering my plea to be fucked
and was preparing to mount me.
Perfect. Jim, with the beautiful manly smooth body, a
big hard cock that always looked pink and new, and of renowned
staying power, was my pussy's best friend. I would get fucked
long and well now.
Barbara's ass covered my face. I held my breath as long
as I could to remain enshrined in legs and hips. Jim entered
me all the way in one thrust, and I tilted my head back to
gasp. Brain cell damage prevented, I adjusted my face in
Barbara again so I could breathe and suck without interrupting
her movements or my pleasure.
Slurp suck slurp suck slurp suck, ahhhhh. Suck suck
slurp suck suck suck, ahhhhh. The rhythm method.
Barbara fucked. Jim fucked. I fucked and sucked. Jim
and Barbara were kissing and he was fondling her titties.
Barbara was squeezing my titties and pinching my nipples, and
I was feeling her legs and ass and the curvature of her body
at her waist.
My nose was probing her asshole, and my open mouth was
securely covered in juicy Barbara cunt. She tasted delicious,
absolutely delicious. She was juicing up good, and I sucked
it into my mouth and drank it.
With a minor realignment on her part, my nose slid up
into her soupy hole, and I attended to her clitoris with all my
skills. She fucked my nose and wiped her ass in my eyes. Her
weight increased as she sat up on my face and alternated
between a grinding fuck and a vibrating fuck. I felt her
hands encircling my neck, but I knew she would be careful not
to break my neck even if she started cumming.
Jim's ramrod filled my cavity. We fit together as though
a master designer had matched us. Ideal friction and
tolerance, precisely the right amount of lubrication, the fuck
action operating according to specification in the Great Book
of Sexual Sculpting, machine parts of high quality materials
built to endure industrial strength sex for long periods of
time.
With Barbara sitting high on my face, my arms were free
to reach out and touch someone. I ran my hands up her
sweating body and grasped her breasts. I held her nipples
twixt thumbs and forefingers and rolled them. If her legs had
not been clamped against my ears, I'm sure I would have heard
her moan. Imagine it! Me, giving pleasure to Barbara!
What women like, men like, so I diversified my tit-
tweaking. One hand for Barbara and one hand for Jim.
Barbara's chest and Jim's chest were chests of treasure for my
hands and fingers. I felt manliness in one hemisphere of my
brain and womanliness in the other. I switched hands and
hemispheres and let myself be aware of the different
sensations I received. Try it sometime when you're
masturbating. You'll be amazed at the difference in
sensations the two hands receive.
Tit tweaking was doing something to my partners. So were
my pussy and mouth, and so was the sight and feel of me under
them. They increased their pace almost simultaneously, and I
increased my fuck movements and sucking action to match
theirs. We were fucking good, and I had the best of both
worlds. Soon, I knew, they would cum in me. Jim would cum in
me where I fucked, and Barbara would cum in me where I sucked,
and both these beautiful virtuosos of sex would cum in what
they were fucking: me.
My orgasm caught me off guard. My body had gone ahead
while my mind was integrating fantasies and maximizing
pleasures. My internal fires ignited. My pussy contractions
would have collapsed my walls if Jim's beam had not braced
them. His fuck movements in and out of me and my vaginal
gripping and grinding around his snug-fitting tool launched us
into a warp in the space-time continuum.
Barbara went with us. She was all over my face, sliding
and hunching and shaking and humping and fucking and grinding
and pressing. Then the characteristic Barbara motion when her
juice suddenly increases, the fast pressing into my mouth
while vibrating.
It is only for that moment that she forgets you as a
person and uses you as a sex object. I couldn't see her face
from her crotch, of course, but I had seen her hundreds of
times and I knew what she was doing. Her eyes seem to roll
back in her head, her face loses all expression, and she's
saying something over and over no one can hear. It looks like
she's saying "fuck fuck fuck fuck." Her brightness is
transferred from her face and brain to other parts of her
body. It is a wonderful moment to be a part of. Barbara
cumming in your mouth.
She sat on my face long after she was done. Just sat
there with her soft stuff in my face. I memorized the
sensations to play back later. This was a session I wanted
permanently locked in my fantasy vault. No girl has ever had
such a twenty-first birthday.
Jim was replaced by somebody's mouth. I could tell it
was a girl, but I didn't know who. She sucked his cum out of
me and cleaned my pussy and crotch, whoever it was. Somebody
started licking my legs before she was done, and still another
mouth, a man's, was sucking the sweat off my body and tits.
I could tell from the shaking he was jacking off at the same
time.
Barbara finally climbed off my face and helped me sit up.
Covered with cum and a face that looked thoroughly fucked, a
totally satisfied pussy, and my body and legs licked clean, I
felt beautiful.
Everybody started clapping, and I took a well-deserved
bow. I had been face-fucked, fucked in the pussy, jacked off
on, sucked between my legs, and licked all over.
Paul said he was stupid not to have captured it all on
film. Daddy said, "No problem, Paul. From the satisfied,
proud look on her face, my guess is she'd be willing to go
through the whole thing again. Right, Trinity?"
We all laughed.
I was twenty-one years old. In less than three short
years since I had started fucking, I had revolutionized many
lives and careers. Because of me, many people had found their
true and honest niche in life, and others had returned to
their faith with a firm dedication they might never have known
but for the experience I gave them.
But the most spiritually satisfying achievement and the
one that means the most to me personally was that I had
reunited our family. We were a tribe that had had the good
fortune of finding ourselves in this world, an honest life
none of us had known before. We would never again be
separated, nor would any of us ever have occasion to employ
those tricks of mind that enable many to justify living a life
devoid of personal integrity.
We do not condemn folks trapped in their lifestyles, nor
do we cast aspersions on folks who deviate from time to time
from their public persona. They have to live in this world,
and that often means keeping secret their little wishes and
fantasies and obsessions. If you're one of these, don't make
it worse by hating yourself. Get fucked!
--end chapter 13--
--end of The Book of Trinity--
--"Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)--
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
@@@@@@@
@@ O O @@
@@@ x @@@ Being a woman is what I like most about me.
^\_/^
wilma@stage.com
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