Noise in an auditorium has an odd effect. All the new students shuffling their pens and binders, while chattering with their new acquaintances, are sure noisy. Yet, until one tries to speak to the person in the next seat and cannot even hear oneself, one does not realize that the sound levels are as high as a jet plane taking off. That’s why the professor is fidgeting with the old style microphone that hangs around his neck. His voice stops the beehive like activity, even though the speakers are faint and crackling.

Dave stares down from his high seat at the end of a stadium like lecture hall. There are over a hundred students in the hall. Some have creative fashion haircuts. Some girls have still wet and matted hair. Some guys sport elegant 20’s style hats. A dozen girls have a fun hair colors like a dash of red or completely green. Some already were white or blue medical coats. Others still showed up in baggy pants and oversized, untied basketball sneakers. The latecomers were sitting on the stairs leading down into the pit. The pit contained the professor in a dapper suit, a traditional leather bag on the desk, and his name on the chalkboard, professor Greenberg.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to medical school. Medicine has an ancient and proud tradition. It is the only established profession that does pure good as sworn by an oath. A chemist can work on rocket science after a four year bachelor degree. You will learn medicine, which is vastly more complicated. You will study hard for over a decade before you get to cut for the first time.”

“Now, please take a look at the student to your left and right. Introduce yourselves. Only one of you will be here by the end of the semester. The first year drop out right at our institute is around 70%. Some of you will fail our tests miserably. Some of you will give up utterly crushed. We do not make doctors for average hospitals here. We nourish heads of surgeries for the most prestigious hospitals. We inspire the doctors that make medical breakthroughs.”

Dave looked under the table at his leather shoes. A leather boot was knocking against the side of his shoes. The leather boot was stiff with the toes standing up. Flames were stitched on the shaft of the boot with purple leather. The male student next to him looked at him intently. He wore a white shirt with thick fabric along the edge of the fabrics, where the buttons were. The thick fabric made the white shirt stand stiff. The two top buttons were opened. The student smiled and leaned over to Dave.

“That’s Professor Dick. All the other professors hate him, yet they treat him nice. He washes out most of the students. The other professors appreciate to be spared wasting their time on dim wits. You survive him and you get to experience some of the most brilliant people on this planet. My name is Armando.”

“Hey, Armando, we can talk after class. Right now, I want to pay attention to the lecture. My name is Dave.”

Armando seized up Dave. Dave was wearing blue jeans with an oval washed out section on the thighs. Thin lines of washed out jeans looked like faded creases. Above the right knee was a small roughed up square, where the designer went to town with a knife to scrape the fabric. At the left bottom was a heart and ‘K’ stitched almost invisibly into the fabric, because the thread was exactly as blue as the jeans. The bottom of the black shirt fell over the top of the jeans. The black shirt had an oversized Marilyn Monroe printed over ten entire torso front reaching under his armpits. The photo print was painted over with bright colors. Her black pupils were filled with the outline drawing of one fetus each, proposing her pupils to be wombs. The Edge of her smiling lips had a cross of two tiny long bones. From the distance they only looked like an X. The black shadow in her blond hair was an illusion. It was actually, the outline of a sultry Goth girl with long flowing hair reclining on Marilyn Monroe’s forehead.

Dave leaned forward onto the narrow surface in front of him. The entire row was sitting on fixed wood chairs. In front of them was a white plastic surface as a writing surface. The writing surface was attached to the top of the chair row in front of them. The row in front of them was lower, so that they could look down onto the heads of the person in front of them.

In front of Dave was a girl with dark dirty blond hair. The hair was twisted into a neat noodle with two white chop sticks sticking way out in both directions. Japanese Kanji characters were engraved on the end of one chop stick. The line drawing of a peacock finished the phrase. The other chop stick had waves, their white crest, and a koi fish engraved. The girls flip flops were hanging of the balls of her feet with a large gap at the heel. She clapped the heel of the flip flop against her naked heal in mindless abandon. The binder in front of her was pink with a large Hello Kitty face. The summer dress was cheery yellow with straps on her shoulder. The guys could see the top of her breasts a bit.

Armando slowly, soundlessly tear a quarter sized paper piece of a bar flyer. He rolled the paper into a tiny ball and snipped it into her hair. The paper pellet had two shiny strands of hair running over it. Yet, a few other loose strands held the paper a bit above the actual hair. The paper was hovering. The girl did not react. Dave whispered to Armando “No.”

Armando proceeded to make the next paper pellet. The paper pellet landed right between the girl’s flip flops. Dave quickly grabbed Armando’s hand and held it. The girl did not react. “You can’t do this.” Armando smiled in success until the professor interrupted him: “The next person that utters a sound will have to leave this session immediately. I don’t care if you just found out the meaning of life or your class mate stepped on your foot.”

Armando snipped the next paper pellet into the girl’s hair. He fully looked at Dave to capture his reaction. Dave looked away. The girl roused. She reached for her hair. As her finger touched the first paper pellet, she started digging and pulling. She snipped it on the floor and went looking for more. Her hair was sensuous and recently washed. Dave could almost smell the fruity scent of her shampoo. She had a piercing at the top of her left ear. Her summer dress ended in the middle of her thigh. The skin and muscle texture looked young and in average shape.

This time, Armando rolled the paper pellet in his mouth before he flung it down at the girl. He went for her décolleté. The wet paper hit her chest high and stuck to the skin. The girl turned around. Her fierce eyes were right in front of Dave’s who was still leaning forward. Armando placed his finger on his lips to warn the girl from speaking to avoid the ire of the professor. When her facial expression changed, his finger in front of his lips slyly pointed at Dave. The girl shook her hand at Dave. Dave waved ‘no’ with both hands. The girl turned back to the front. Dave hit Armando into the side of his thigh with a closed fist. Armando’s face brightened up only more.

The whole class stood up and started walking toward the front and out the doors next to the chalkboard. The next step was the surgical initiation. The professor believed that students needed a taste of actual surgery to be motivated through the drudgery of learning the basics. On their first day, they were to assist life surgeries with a menial task like injecting a drug into the IV, sucking blood out of the surgery site, or handing the surgeon a scalpel. The surgery rooms were behind the lecture hall. The students formed five lines for each of the surgery rooms. There was a lot of waiting for students to neatly wash the hands all the way up to the forearm and dressing with hairnets, gloves, and surgical gowns. Then, as one student exited one door, the next student could step in. There was usually only space for five students at a time to observe among the many people of the surgical team.

Dave stood next to Armando: “You are an absolute ass.”

“You have a problem with hesitation. In medicine, not the students that study the most win. It is the students that can step over boundaries. That girl in front of us will be unable to step over the boundary of cutting a corpse. She will fail anatomy. You will fail, because you are too modest. You will kill the woman with vaginal bleeding, because you don’t dare asking her the right gynecological questions. Perhaps, you won’t ask her a single one. Medicine is not normal. Cutting and sawing into bodies requires you to give up your hesitations. You still have a chance to get over it before they kick you out.”

Dave and Armando stood quietly in the line of blue students covered in puffy coverings head to toe. The pre-room was large, functional with a wooden bench to get dressed and rows of oversized hand sinks. The sinks had foot pedals to operate the water to avoid the clean hands touching anything. Every five minutes, the door opened with a glimpse of machines, large surgical lights and the surgeon. Rancid air wafted into the room from burned flesh. Blood vessels were soldered to stop the bleeding. Everyone looked ahead and was quiet.

When Dave stepped into the room, he scanned the surgical staff to pick out the student, surgeon, anesthetist, nurses among the anonymous smurf-like looking people. The appendicitis surgery would be open soon. He recognized the bothered girl from the class earlier standing near a nurse. He pushed himself past the other students to stand next to her and apologize. As he pulled up next to her, he reached with his right hand for her shoulder to get her attention. His elbow knocked against a shiny stainless steel try. The meticulous instruments rattled loud. A ten blade fell to the floor with the ringing sound of a coin jumping around before it finally settled, only louder. Armando quickly stepped on top of the ten blade with his shoes. The surgeon paused. The nurse next to the surgeon quickly exhaled. “Who dropped a scalpel in my OR?” The nurse next to the girl from class quickly twisted her body around. Her body relaxed a bit, because she had something to do. She peered on the floor and reported: “There is no scalpel on the floor.” Another nurse joined her search and confirmed. The surgeon grumbled without a word and continued poking in the abdomen of the patient.

Armando whispered in Dave’s ear: “You owe me. I get to double dip and do your surgery task as well. They won’t recognize us with the face masks and eye shields.”

The girl cut him off by whispering to us: “You guys are in so much trouble!”

Armando cut her off: “Actually, you are in deep trouble.” “Phew” “Just look down at your feet. Those are pretty Hello Kitty flip flops. But what are they doing in this spanking clean OR, where sharp instruments can drop. You were lucky that the nurse was so focused on the scalpel that she did not notice. Once she calms down, she may remember.”

Her face looked haunted. She reached for my arm: “Oh my god, I will get kicked out on my first day. Let me get passed you, so that I can get sterile shoe covers.”

Armando firmly grabbed her biceps to stop her: “My dear, running will only draw more attention to it. It is a common beginner mistake to forget protection. Your peers are here to cover for you. I saw you going in like that. So, I grabbed an extra pair. I will drop them on the floor. You will put them up. While you are down there, you will pick up the ten blade under my boot and sneak it out.”

She squatted down in front of Armando. She pulled the bunched up shoe coverings apart and stepped into them. Then, she pushed Armando’s boot away to grab the ten blade. She put it into the pocket of her surgical gown. The next minute, the space opposite the surgeon opened. She stepped to the unconscious body. The nurse gave her a sponge with rusty red fluid to sterilize the skin around the sutures. The appendix surgery was near the end and the cut already closed. She painted thick lines of rusty red on the lower right abdomen.

They meet again the next day in the library. The girl introduced herself as Sandy. The professor introduced the reason for the odd class location. Yesterday, they had tasted the joy of surgery. Today, they would taste the ardor of long hours of work. They all had access to anatomy books. Their task was to learn all the 206 bones of the adult human body in one long session. The day could either end by passing an oral quiz on the bones or being expelled for falling asleep. The maximum allotted time was 72 hours – 3 days.

To make things more interesting, everyone had to grab a study partner. The study partner was actually an adversary. If a study partner fell asleep and the awake partner could write ‘loser’ on his/her forehead, the sleeping partner would be eliminated. The awake partner would be rewarded by having to answer one question less on the quiz. A new study partner would be assigned. There were ten questions on the quiz. A particularly alert, yet dumb student could succeed by simply staying awake long enough. The same is the case in real world situations. During long shifts, surgeries, and disaster emergencies, the last doctor standing still saves patients, while the brilliant yet exhausted doctor does not.

Armando was paired with Sandy. Dave was paired with a small Chinese girl with large glasses. The morning in the library was packed with a lot of noise and movement. By early afternoon the snack vending machine in the library had run out. Students were re-using their soda cans to drink water from the bathroom tap. All four were sitting on the floor. The coarse floor had become familiar like a home by now. In the morning, it seemed like a dirty floor. Now, it felt like an inviting living room. Looking up at the window brought a reassuring familiarity. Everyone knew the major bones like femur and humerus. Some even name all the wrist bones: scaphoid, lunate, triquetral, pisiform, trapezium, trapezoid, capitate, and hamate. Pisiform was the most easy to remember, because of its crude reference to ‘piss,’ and the prominent location as the bump on the pink side of the wrist. They had learned them in pre-med classes. Yet, the small and unusual ones gave even the top students a challenge to remember.

Dave noticed glitter on the Chinese girl’s cheek. When a second tear ran down her cheek, he recognized the glitter for crying. He talked softly to her and offered his last pretzel in the aluminum pack to help her blood sugar stabilize. “Eight hours. I only know 103 bones. Last hour, I learned five new bones and forgot three.” Dave put his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged sharply and grabbed her bags. She whisked out. Dave followed her. Near the door, the professor stopped him: “Congratulations son, you are down one question. Now, pair with Sandy and Armando. They sit over there.”

Night passed surprisingly quickly. Most brains were too exhausted to track time. The blue, red, purple sunrise inspired the first student to try the test. The student passed. It was the thirteenth student to leave. The other ones had easer silently walked out in shame. Or, they had received loud cheers of the sleep deprived raucous students for the red word on their forehead “Loser.” They had fallen asleep. The first student to dare write on the forehead of the other had broken a taboo. Everyone was now eyeing their partner carefully to fall asleep and provide an easy way out.

When Sandy dropped the book on her belly, Dave expected Armando to immediately scrawl ‘loser’ on her forehead or face. Yet, Armando leaned forward on his knees to get closer to Sandy on the floor. He carefully placed his index finger on Sandy’s heal. Her flip flops were somewhere else in our circle. Then, his finger glid along the sole of her foot to her toes. On the second pass, Sandy snorted and flung her eyes wide open.

“Sleeping beauty, you almost wasted your parents savings by flunking med school. I got just the thing for you.” Armando pulled an orange prescription container out of his pocket. “600 mg of modafinil proven to keep combat pilots alert and accurate for over 40 hours.” Armando turned prescription container over while waving it back and force, so that the pills clicked against the lid. “What is it going to be? Years of school for nothing or doing whatever it takes?”

Sandy lurched forward to grab the modafinil out of Armando’s hand. He pulled it away quickly and she fell on his legs. Armando laughed: “There is a string attached. There are always strings attached. You let Dave and I practice breast exams on you, so that we pass the women gynecology part. In exchange, the modafinil will help you pass the bone test. Sandy punched Armando’s chest and walked away to the bathroom. Armando sang: “Time is on my side, yes it is. Now you were saying that you want to be free, but you'll come runnin' back”

For then next hour, Armando intermittently belted into “time is on my side” and evilly added “yes it is.” The room took little notice of his antics. All the people with ticks had started showing them. The tall guy with the basketball shoes was bending his torso all the way forward to his thighs and back into the backrest of his chair. A yoga girl had taken all kinds of odd positions. Once she was balancing on her with her legs stretched to the sides. Her hands were holding onto the anatomy book. Some people had purple sacks under their eyes. Some people had really disheveled hair as the spray wore out and they scratched their head. A survivalist girl had tried eating the plant decoration of the library. It was a South American plant that gave her hallucinations. A nurse took her away.

Unerringly, Sandy’s abrupt head dropping and jerking back up ended in her head staying down. Armando picked up his soda can of purple. He moved it over Sandy’s crotch and let a drizzle of water from the bathroom down. Any remnant of sticky colored soda had long been washed out by the frequent refills. Dave punched him hard. Armando lost his balance and dropped the can into Sandy’s crotch. The can quickly spurted out the water onto the brown dress. Sandy woke up and punched the can away.

“Sweetie, this time it was really Dave. However, you have not reason to be upset. We saved your ass. It is modafinil time. It is time to feel like a top gun pilot, wide away through forty hours of combat. See even Dave will take one. He has an open tap on IOU’s with me. He already owes me one favor for the scalpel drop. Sandy, it is time that you join the gang.”

Dave quickly grabbed a modafinil. Even he knew that he was simply a string man to induce Sandy into the boob grabbing, he knew that he was a slow learning in need of an edge. Sandy poked her stinky finger into the air at Armando and took a hit of modafinil as well. From then, Sandy got only more edgy. Every other time that she flipped a page in the anatomy book, she’d hiss peanut balls, trashy rat, and so on at Armando. Armando enjoyed getting back at her by talking about spiders walking in her hair or her getting dangerous wrinkles from dehydration. Sandy would each time jump up and run around the library. The side effects of edginess and anxiety were setting in.

Around noon, a group of noisy kindergartner kids ran into the library. They were on an excursion trip. Their teachers quickly herded them out. Armando had noticed the two Pakistani girls had not looked up at the kids screaming “I will be a doctor, too.” They were both sitting in armchairs with a little magazine table in between them. Armando slowly closed in from behind one. Armando said, “For every evil under the sun there is a remedy and your mine.” Neither of them motioned. He carefully got his red pen out and wrote “loser” on their foreheads. After they still did not rouse, he undid the top two buttons on the shirt of one girl, so that the inside edges of her boobs could be seen. Then he walked over to the professor to get the two questions down credit for his deed.

Sandy left the two guys a little after sunset. Her face had a red rash from the modafinil. She passed all of the questions. During the night, Armando had easy pickings of writing loser on student’s foreheads. The students without stimulants were falling asleep and their study partner’s were not longer coherent enough to recognize their opportunity and act on it. In the deep of the second night around 3 am, Armando had one by eliminating a student for every question on the quiz. Dave was assigned one new study partner after the next. The final study partner was a young Iranian man shaking from all the caffeine stimulants that he had indulged in. At the 72 hour mark, the professor offered them a match of the first person to get a question wrong losing and the other person passing. Dave clearly won, because the Iranian guy was stuttering badly from exhaustion and caffeine.

Sunday afternoon, Dave walked up the wide, gray, and worn stairs to the tall stone building with the large wooden gate. He stepped into the church. The cold tall pillars held up the tall ceiling. Rows of hard wooden benches filled his path to the front, where a table filled with flickering candles stood. He made a right looking up at the yellow and blue colored glass window of a female saint folding her hands and a cross on a staff next to her. He stepped into the dark mahogany wood enclosure. He sat down on the hard wooden bench with a purple velvet pillow on top. He drew the curtain close behind him. His fingers ran around the edge of the window to the priest. The edge was engraved with figures re-telling the passion of Christ. He heard the priest sliding open his side of the window. Now, only a fine screen separated them.

“Father Dagur, it is me Dave. I have sinned.”
“Go on.”
“I have used a prescription drug to win an exam at school.”
“Dear Dave, the Lord is not concerned with the laws of the Roman emperor or any emperor. Have you broken divine law?”
“I have cheated, father.”
“Son, I had a little wine to mellow my gut before taking confession. It helps me accept the long rants of the bored house wives. Would you say that I have cheated?”
“No father.”
“Dave, say five Hail Maries and waste no more time. Go home and study. We need bright doctors like you.”

Monday during the first recess, Armando walked up to Dave, high-fived him, and told him to follow. He found Sandy talking to a group of girls. He grabbed her by her pony tail and pulled her away. Sandy walked behind Armando and tried to talk to him from behind like a little dog trying to catch up with its owner: “Hey, I thought about it. I am uncomfortable about it and won’t do it.” Armando turned around, seized up her face, and said, “You still have the rash on your face. It would be easy evidence to get you flunked out of the program.” Armando continued walking. Sandy opened her mouth and did a little body wave with her body, as she decided to continue walking. Near the central elevators was a wall segment, where porters would hide unconscious patients in their beds until their room was ready. Armando gathered the three of them there.

“Get over yourself. We are all here to learn. Sandy for all I know, you may have lumps in your breast.”

Sandy stood there. She stood on happy Hawaiian flip flops. She wore roughly cut off jeans with a black tank top. Her breasts were full and well formed. Her arms boxed her head like a frame for a moment, as she pulled the top over her head. A purple bra with a smooth round shape appeared. It pushed her breast slightly up. Sandy unhooked the bra behind and the bra jumped immediately forward and down in a V shape. Her breasts sagged down a little bit into their natural shape.

Armando got black electrical tape out of his pant pocket. “We will give you some privacy.” Sandy’s eyes brightened a bit and she nodded. Armando ripped a one inch piece of tape off the roll. Next, Armando spit on his fingers and rubbed it on her nipple. Sandy stepped back. “Sandy, you will thank me, when we are going to pull off the tape later.” Sandy let Armando step closer and put spit on her other nipple. Tiny white spit foam bubbles were next to her nipples. Armando made black crosses on her nipples with the electrical tape.

Armando started making little circles near the lower fold of her left breast. “Armando, do you realize that I am half naked, where people can walk in on us?” Armando continued working horizontally along the breast looking for lumps, while smiling brightly about what he was looking at and touching. Dave half tried to sneak away and half tried to get a better look at Sandy’s full breasts. His face was flushed red. Sandy alternated between looking at the ceiling and looking into Armando’s face.

“Clear. It is Dave’s turn to check the other breast.”
“No man, look.”
“Dave, if you want to become a doctor, you have to get over your modesty.”

Dave stepped forward and put his hand flat on Sandy’s boob, pushing it up, so that the boob bulged out around his hand. “Happy?” Armando, grabbed his index and middle finger and circled them in over one small area at a time on Sandy’s breast. Dave looked down at the floor with a couple long hairs and a discarded back cover of a band-aid.

“Dave, be a doctor. Look her straight into the eyes, while you touch her breast. Tell her that she is the hottest coed in class. You have fantasized about her breast at night in bed. Now, you are so glad to touch them.”
“Armando, I had my first kiss at age 18 with a girl that I meet at the local swimming pool. I am in new waters here.”
“Really, are you one of those man-virgins? Will I be your first boob contact? I had my first kiss at age 15, when my date walked me out of the restaurant.”

Dave was quiet. He shook Armando’s hand off and attempted on his own. When he avoided the black tape over the nipples, Armando corrected him to not miss an inch out of modesty. Dave could feel Sandy’s nipple under the black tape. He could feel her breath on his hand as he looked up at her eyes. Her eyes were curiously looking down at her naked breast. After he was done, Sandy put the bra and tank top back. They all separated.

On Friday, Dave and Armando meet again. They were assigned as study partners for the first clinical practice. The professor had handed them a multi-page health questionnaire. The first page provided an introduction on conducting patient interviews tactfully and thoroughly. It was important to make patients comfortable with the power inequality of a patient doctor relationship. Equally important was detailed interviewing to catch even hidden hints at a medical problem.

Dave and Armando were waiting in a small exam room. The short exam table had been placed sideways to fit into the room. The cabinets had common supplies. The drawer top had gloves, wooden spatulas, and the medical waste container. The wall had a funky multi-colored diagram about the cold and the flu. They were wearing a white coat over their student clothes. Dave had the clipboard, questionnaire and pen. Dave’s nitrile gloves were a size to large and had many wrinkles.

The door opened and a eighteen year old slightly chubby girl stepped in. She was chubby in all the right places like her hips and boobs. The tight black leggings helped getting a good look at her figure. And, her t-shirt was equally snug fitting. She dribbled into the room with short steps in her white sneakers. “Hi,” and she waved her hands at them.

“My name is Dave. That is Armando. What brings you here today?”
“Oh, I am here for my regular check up. My name is Emily.” She raised a peace sign next to her eyes.
“Okay, I have a few questions that we need to ask you, before we can send you back to the nurse to take your blood and urine samples.”
“Actually, let me cut Dave short. Let’s do the physical part of the exam first. If you could do some jumping jacks for us. Jump your feet apart, while clapping your hands. Jump your feet together, while reaching out with your arms. Give us 10 of those.”

Dave scribbled on the side of the paper: “That’s not part of the questionnaire.” Armando replied: “I know. I just love watching those young bobs bounce up and down.” Emily’s breasts were so chubby round that they touched each other on the inside. They bounced up to her shoulders and back down with each jump.

“Now, Emily, please give us ten situps.”

Emily sat down on the floor with her legs straight and together. She lay on her back. Her boobs would distribute onto her chest and become flat. As she leaned forward to touch her toes, the boobs would hang down and forward at twice the size from before. The sight of her boobs and the chubby outline of her thighs next to them was delicious.

Dave scribbled back, “You are getting us in trouble.” “There will only be trouble, if you let on to Emily that there is something unusual.”

“Emily, stand back up. Let’s see how flexible you are. I will have you stand up and reach for your toes.”

Emily was bending forward. The leggings stretched over her butt and showed that she was wearing a colorful g-string. Armando lightly pushed on her back with one hand, “Can you do a bit more? You are still young.” Emily strained forward. Next, Armando’s other hand went straight in the middle of her butt and moved her an inch back: “Now, don’t fall forward.” Emily’s face was red from straining to get the last bit towards her toes.

Now, Armando pinched the legging fabric at her butt together to get a hold of the g-string. He pulled the g-string up. She got a wedgie as the g-string pulled into her vagina. “Now don’t cheat by bending your knees. Okay, I guess that’s all we get.” The flustered face of Emily reappeared.

“Dave will now go with you through the health questions.”

Dave rattled down the question in a quest to get out. Armando interrupted him.

“Emily, you are now eighteen years old. There is new freedom that comes with age. With that come also new issues. Are you sexually active?”
She said “Yeah”, while looking down.
“How many sex partners have you had?”
“Three.”
“Have you had anal sex?”
“Yes.” Her young fingers were walking around her thighs in discomfort.
“Tell us about it.”
“Well, this guy from church was over watching TV. My ma was out grocery shopping. We cuddled under a blanket. He suddenly threw me over and thrust his penis inside of me. It hurt.”
“Ah, that tells us what to screen for. You masturbate of course. What is your preferred way?”
“Oh, like in the shower, I have this electric tooth brush and I put a lot of tooth paste on it. And, then I hold it there. I have to be quiet though, because my brother is sometimes using the sink outside the shower curtain. He just walks in like that sometimes.”
“Okay, Dave can continue now with the questionnaire.”

After they had walked the girl back to the nurse, Dave yelled at Armando that he had crossed a line. He told him that his hesitation speech would not work this time. Armando were on a power trip. They left in disagreement.

Dave saw his priest in confession that night. He touched the familiar cordelet that ran around the seating pillow. He still had the anger gushing out of his voice, when he talked.

“Father Dagur, I have been part of a terrible sin today.”
“Go on.”
“Another student and I abused our clinic practice to enjoy the sensual appearance of a young female patient. Then, we asked her sexual question to arouse ourselves.”
“Dave, you and me have a similar lesson in our profession. When a precious slender girl in a skirt runs into my office sobbing and throws her around my neck, don’t you think that I notice her tight ass in that mini skirt? Don’t you think the biology in my body reacts no matter how many times I read the bible?”
“Father, I am in deep need of your wise advice.”
“Son, sometimes, I take a leave from the Buddhists. There is a saying, let the fruit fall from the tree, when it is ripe. The idea is to allow your urges and vices to ripen until they naturally vanish. Armando is teaching you an important lesson early. You will get aroused by this or that patient. How you face your arousal is important.”
“I hear you, father. How shall I handle my arousal?”
“There is a wrong way. If you repress it, it will only grow strong. That strength will overpower you every once in a while with terrible consequences. Instead, let it flow. Let yourself be aroused by a cute chick or two. Maybe, even indulge a little. Trust me. You will soon bore of it and move on to something else. Next time, allow the erotic arousal in and make friends with it, lest it become the demon that will control you.”
“Dagur, your counsel has been wise in the past. Say how many Hail Maries today?”
“Five, son.”

Day two of the clinic practice brought Dave and Armando back together. They waited in awkward silence for the nurse to bring in the patient. The patient was a tall blonde woman in sharp business attire. She wore black very high heels. Her knee long dress was pinstriped. Her thighs were strong biker thighs that showed the definition of her quadriceps. She had a white blouse and pinstriped jacket. Her hair was sprayed to go back very tightly. She had bright red lipstick and golden ear clips.

She had fallen during yoga practice. During handstands another student had tumbled and fallen onto her. Her back was hurting. The two young med students were supposed to do the general exam to rule out any secondary issues, before the orthopedic doctor would treat her back.

Dave was holding the clipboard with a copy of the questionnaire from yesterday. He attempted to clip the pen to the top of the clipboard. It dropped to the ground. He moved a little back, yet was too close to the wall to bend down.

“Jennifer, could you pick the pen up for me, please.”

Jennifer squatted down. Dave could see deep into the slit between her breasts, because her blouse had a v-shaped top. He could see the slivers of a pink bra with the deep blouse look. Armando pressed his lips together as he saw Dave looking down at Jennifer’s breasts.

“Let’s check your respiration before we start the question. Please, take off your jacket.” Dave reached for the cold stethoscope. Without hesitating, he reached under Jennifer’s blouse up her back. He told her to breathe deeply. He worried about the boner in his pants. Yet, he assumed that the jeans and white coat provided enough of a visual buffer. He pulled the stethoscope out. He slid it under her bra up front. Jennifer shivered, when he touched her nipples.

“All good. Armando will do the questionnaire.” He handed Armando the clipboard. Armando skipped half of the questions. He was not very interested. The blonde business woman made herself more comfortable and answered the questions with precision.

“That was the last question. You are now ready to see the orthopedist about your back. To get you ready, you will have to change into a hospital gown.”

Armando held out the hospital gown with the blue flowers printed on. Jennifer waited for them to leave. Armando added: “The orthopedist will go on lunch break soon. Let’s get you wrapped up.” Jennifer unbuttoned her blouse. A purple bra with black laces appeared. She had a trim body. Jennifer made a sound with her mouth as if she were unsatisfied. Armando took the blouse off her and put it over his arm. Jennifer opened the zipper in the back of her skirt and let it slide down to her feet. Matching pink panties with black laces appeared. Armando took the skirt as well.

Armando stopped Jennifer from reaching for the hospital gown: “The bra as well. We may have to do an MRI and the metal in the underwire interferes with the machine.” Jennifer rolled her eyes and considered how far she had gone with the two male students. She unclipped her bra and her twins fell out. Armando grabbed her bra as well. “Almost there, we don’t have all day.” Jennifer stomped her foot and pulled down her panties. Armando grabbed her panties, making sure that his fist covered around the white hygiene fabric that had been next to her vagina.

Jennifer stood there completely naked in front of the two young white coats. Her arms covered her breast. She was tall, slender, and athletic. Her body clearly showed her hard workouts. She took the hospital gown from Armando. She put her arms through the short sleeves, so that the solid fabric covered her front. The back was hanging wide open showing her sexy back and tight ass. Dave offered to tie her back. He started with the top string. He continued with the middle string. The lowest string was near her butt. He made sure to put his finger a little between her butt to cop a feel and pretend to pull out the string. Her nakedness still showed through the loosely tied back strings.

They told her to follow her out into the hallway. She strutted such scantly closed in her black high heels into the hallway. They made sure to walk past a waiting area without a nurse. They did not want to get in trouble and provide her with the most public exposure. In the waiting area, Armando stopped next to an old man with a walking stick. His lips were shaped as if he had lost his last tooth. Jennifer turned to Armando with her behind against the old man. Armando told her to wait her. He would check, if the orthopedist office was empty. She stayed there with her partially exposed butt two feet away from the old man’s face. A little kid pointed at Jennifer. She blushed even more.

Armando returned. He simply walked her into another exam room. The whole pretense was simply for publically humiliating Jennifer with her public nudity. He left her in the room with her clothes in his hands saying that he’d leave them with the nurse. Thus, Jennifer was left without her clothes at the mercy of the real doctor arriving.

At lunch time, the trio of Dave, Armando, and Sandy meet up. They were chatting over cafeteria sandwiches and salads about their experiences in the clinic practice. Sandy gushed out the story of an old woman in her exam room. The old woman could not find her dentures. Without her dentures, her speech was completely unintelligible. Finally, they had to finish the exam by writing to each other on a notepad. The old woman’s hand looked tall and ornamental as if it had been from the Civil War. Armando tried to top her story by spilling the downblouse view and under blouse touch that Dave had caught. Dave was upset. Sandy was even more upset.

“You guys abuse pretty women. That’s no fair. We women have to score back. This afternoon, if you get a guy, you text me. I will get you right back for it.”

The first patient of the afternoon was a twenty year old male. Dave and Armando should do the basic health exam and send him on to triage for further assessment. They texted Sandy from the exam room. A minute later, the door swung open. Sandy stormed in. Her white coat was wide open to show her top and her wonderful boobs in it. She gave the patient a full body hug to make him uncomfortable.

“Richard, have a seat here.” She sat down next to Richard on the exam table. Richard was a tall lanky man. His shirt was too short at the wrist. His Khaki pants were too tied. His penis was visible in the right pant leg. Sandy put her hand down on Richard’s thigh, so that her finger tips touched his penis. Richard had a pale squeamish face.

“Richard, what brings you here?”
“I have had a headache for a week.”
“The doctor will see you in a bit. We are going to do a general exam to look for red flags. I will have you lie back and pull up your short for an abdominal exam.”

Sandy started patting methodically across his stomach. Yet, she made sure to avoid the firm professional touch. Instead, she was caressing his stomach softly. She moved around in circles. She made sure to slip her hands under his belt loop as well. Richard had goose bumps racing over his body. His face was red. Armando and Dave stood in the far corner watching Sandy amused how she worked the patient.

“Okay, that’s good. Let’s check the reflexes of your knees.”

Sandy squatted down to roll up his pants. Her approach was half hearted.

“Honey, those pants have to come off.”

Richard stripped his khakis down. Now he was sitting there in his boxer shorts and white athletic socks. Sandy ran his hand up his inner thigh as if to steady the leg for the reflex test. Yet, she really tried to make Richard uncomfortable by arousal. She banged around his knee with the rubber mallet until his knee foot jumped forward.

“Richard, are you gay? No? So, guy butts and pecs don’t turn you on at all? So, you are straight? So, boobs like mine turn you on? So, we have to take a peek at it. Pack it out. Stand up.”

Richard stood up. Sandy pulled down his boxer shorts. She took a sniff. “Oh, it is a bit filthy.” She reached for a disposable alcohol wipe on the counter. She unfolded the white alcohol napkin. She carefully wiped down his penis and surrounding area. His penis was clean. She simply needed a pretext to handle his penis longer.

After she discarded the alcohol towelette in the trash can, she was still squatting in front of Richard’s balls and penis. She wiped a string of hair out of her face with the back of her hand. Then, she groaned, “Those have been pinching all day.” Then, she reached with her gloved hand inside of her bra and adjusted her boobs. Without changing gloves she grabbed Richard’s penis again. Dave and Armando gave each other looks.

Sandy pointed the penis up, down, and sideways. Then, she pinched the head and pulled the skin all the way back. She grabbed the shaft with her hand. “Please, squeeze as if you are holding back urination. Okay, thank you. Now, I will test tissue flaccidity.” She pinched the penis near the base between her thumb and index finger. She quickly flicked the penis up and down, so that the penis outline blurred. She continued by handling his testicles. She checked his penis with small circles.

Next Sandy took out a yellow metal measuring tape. She placed the cold metal against his penis from the pubic bone down. She took a pen out of her coat pocket. She tried to make a mark at the first inch. The pen did not write. She took the pen in her mouth to get spit on it and tried it again. It still did not work. She now drew the pen across his belly in large circles until the pen started leaving a line. She marked every inch with a small line on his penis. “I am looking at the proportion of your penis. Let me do it again, because I am new to this.” She repeated her marks and measured an extra half inch. She feigned confusion. Then, she blamed Richard, “Are you getting a hard on during a medical exam? What kind of pervert are you?” She told him to turn over. He kneeled on the exam table. She spanked his naked butt with long swings and thudding hits. She reached her hands between his thighs to grab his penis: “Are you done getting hard?”

The young man turned around and tried to cover his raging hard on with his hands. Sandy firmly looked at him: “There is one cure for a trouble patient like you. Cold water!” Sandy got her cold Snapple raspberry ice tea out of her book bag. She unscrewed the cap of the wide mouthed bottle. “Put your penis in here and keep it there until it is flaccid again.” Poor Richard was on hands and knees on the exam table. He lowered his pelvis to dunk his erect penis into the Snapple bottle. “I will be back in two minutes. And, you better be presentable again.” Before Sandy left, she took a snapshot with her IPhone of Richard’s naked butt and penis in the Snapple bottle. She left the door wide open for anyone passing to see Richard in the compromising position. Dave closed the door swiftly to avoid detection by a supervising teacher.

Armando addressed Richard, “Yah, Richard, not so much tact with the female doctors here, huh. Get your clothes on and we finish with a few questions.”

Dave saw his priest again. He was scratching his fingernails along the graffiti that the youth had carved into the confession booth.
“Dave, it is you again!”
“Father Dagur, I am tormented by terrible guilt.”
“Tell me from the beginning, what had happened.”
[…]
“Son, that was a wonderful story. I live vicariously through your tales. Tell me about Armando. Does he have a religious conviction?”
“Father, I do not know his private beliefs.”
“He may be of use our order. The Island Order has a particular use for man with a dominant temperament like Armando. Men with great guilt have a great motivation to serve. Their service is so much deeper and more sincere than that of an innocent man. I give you the special order to facilitate his deprived ambition. When his guilt is at a peak, he will willingly come.”
“Dagur, you tell me to sin on purpose and misuse my medical office?”
“Think of it like a license to commit minor crimes for an undercover officer to blend in.”
“Father Dagur, your ways are sometimes hard to comprehend.”
“Dear Dave, do your five Hail Marries and get out of here.”

The last day of the clinic practice was rather menial. Dave and Armando alternated going through the questionnaire. That all changed, when Stephanie came into their exam room. She was a happy MILF with her tank top, pants, and heels. The heels had mushroom shells. Her large breast had fed two boys. Her eyes were large. Her lips were luscious with a warm smile. She had come in to check her cholesterol levels. She sat on the exam table with her feet happily swinging around and her hands at the edge of the exam table.

“Hi, Stephanie. My name is Armando. You are here to check your cholesterol level. After you answer our questions, you will have to fill a cup with urine.”

Armando took a second look at Stephanie. He checked out her body. Her belly was a bit flabby. Her pants were a little large. Everything was a little worn and old like a MILF. Yet, she had this fire cooking inside of her off excitement. He looked over to Dave to check him.

“Stephanie, I notice that you are insured with Kaiser Permanente. Unfortunately, Kaiser has a lot of patients, who share their insurance card with family members. In order to get reimbursed for the medical fees, we have to take special precautions to ensure that your urine is being tested and not your sisters. We actually have to supervise the urine sample. Yes. This is a little intimate. Yet, it is nothing like a rectal exam.”

Stephanie looked a bit stunned. The excitement went out of her face.

“Stephanie, here is the cup. It only needs to be filled half way. I will have you pee in it right here, so that we can certify your urine as genuine.”

“You want me to squat down here?”
“Yes, actually, we ask patients to squat in the corner over there. It makes it easier, if there is a little spill.”

Stephanie slowly walked into the corner. She pulled down her pants and panties to her ankles. She still wore her high heels, when she squatted down. Dave and Armando looked at her vaginal lips. They were hanging down a bit from the child births. Dave stirred.

“Stephanie, I will have to touch your vagina for a moment. Sometimes, people hide tubes that are connected to pouches of urine from family members. I have to frisk your vagina for any tubes.”
“Really!?”

Dave moved forward and bent down in front of Stephanie in the dark corner. His blue gloved fingers prodded around her urethra. Then, he thrust his fingers in her vagina. He carefully separated her labia. Stephanie starred into Armando’s face, who looked down at the proceedings intently. Finally, Dave held the cup in front of Stephanie’s vagina and insisted that he had to hold it. Stephanie starred up at the ceiling trying to relax pee into Dave’s hand with the cup. She heard her pee streaming into the cup. Dave was right in front of her. “That’s it.” Dave handed her a paper towel to wipe herself. Stephanie tried to perk up: “I am glad that you don’t have to dig out any fecal samples!”

Stephanie stood up and pulled her pants up. The pink-white checkered panties disappeared behind the zipper and pant button. She swung her arms a little to the side and folded them in front of her before stepping back to the exam table. Armando had already the wooden spatula ready. “Now, Stephanie could you open your mouth wide and say ‘ah’.” Stephanie swallowed and opened her luscious pink lips. The upper lip had a pronounced v-shape at the top. Her tongue was pink with a little white on top of the taste buds that looked like chubby hair. Her teeth were ivory white with a shine and even height. Armando put the wooden spatula to the back of her throat on purpose. Stephanie’s body rushed forward. She bit down on the spatula. Her eyes got teary.

“Dave, could you hold her head. Stephanie, I want you to relax.”

On the second try, a tear ran down Stephanie’s face and saliva drooled on her top near the boobs. Armando now put two fingers in her mouth. “Please, pull all the air out of your mouth, so that we can see the tone of your facial muscles.” Stephanie’s lips formed a pink circle around Armando’s two fingers. Her lips puckered in. Armando moved his fingers a little back and force. “Now, try to blow up your cheeks to test the ring muscle of your mouth.” Stephanie’s cheeks ballooned big like a trumpet player. Armando abruptly pulled out his fingers with a loud plop and some of Stephanie’s saliva flying out. “Oops, I am like a water fountain today.”

Dave finished the questionnaire and sent Stephanie on to the nurse for her meeting with the real doctor.

During a nice fall day, Dave an Armando had lunch at the pond side cafeteria. A little pond was surrounded by benches for hospital patients to get some fresh air, except for the hospital side. There a worn wooden deck was filled with metal mesh chairs and a seasonal cafeteria cart served boxed lunches and drinks. Dave tried to sell Armando on the finer points of sin and the need for confession. Armando was distracted texting a girl, whom he had meet at a dance club during the weekend. Sandy came walking with a swing in her hips and bouncing hair with every step. Her tray claimed space on the small round metal table. She stretched out her legs onto Armando’s lap. The calves below the hem of her dress were stubbly. The flip flops were a bit worn. A petal was missing from the adorning white-yellow flower on her flip flops. “Armando, it is time for payback. We have to practice rectal exams.”

“Ha ha, little girl, you are delusional.”
“Oh, my bad. Now, that you remind me, I remember what the right thing to do is. A girl friend of mine in administration passed me a complained by a Stephanie. She did not like something about how a urine sample was taken. I will give it straight to the professor.”
“That’s not only Armando’s problem. What do you want us to do?”
“You my friend, Dave, make sure that Armando shows up after hours at 7 PM in the lecture hall. We made a little deal with Stephanie. Rather than getting a slap on the wrist, we will get five girls plus Stephanie to observe the rectal exam.”
“Sandy, how do you know that it would not turn me on to have your hot little hand fumbling around my ass?”
“Perfect 7 PM. Wear some sexy underwear, heart breaker. Hey did you guys already struggle with the surprise quiz today in class?”

The three of them chatted about school.

In the evening, the hospital section with the teaching rooms was empty. The lighting had already switched down to conserve electricity. Only every third ceiling tube was turned on. The ceiling tubes ran along the hallway. The floor of the ceiling reflected distant bright lights beyond double winged glass doors of another department. Dave and Armando opened the door to the familiar lecture hall, which had a completely different mood now. Only the light beam for the lecture stage was turned on. The stadium seating was in semi darkness. Sandy stood up front doing a little dance snaking her body left and right as she shifted from one foot to the other. Next to her was the imaging machine. A rolling wheel base with a mounted screen and thick, long tube rolled around a spool.

Once Dave and Armando got next to Sandy, they could see the faces of the girls sitting in attendance. There was Caroline, the overweight administrative assistant with two inch long fake nails. There was Katie, the tiny student from the first row whose black hair was matted from neglect. There was Liz-B, the long term cancer patient, who often tacked along doctors and nurses. With a red head, Stephanie was there as well. Her round boobs looked especially lovely today. The dark lighting smoothed the skin on her face and made her look sexy.

“Armando, here is the jury to ensure that your penalty for maltreating a patient is well delivered. Hop on the teacher’s desk.”

Armando climbed on the teacher’s desk. His white shirt was hanging down under him. He steadied himself with one hand and unbuttoned his pant with the other. Everyone heard the zipper. His black pants glided down to reveal Dallas Cowboy’s white star on blue background logo on his jock straps. He pulled those down to his knee as well. “Enjoying the sites, ladies?”

“Armando, we got the high resolution cam. You know, it is big. I will loosen up your sphincter with my fingers.”

Sandy pulled on the Nitrile gloves. She squeezed clear paste out of a non-described tube onto her two straight fingers. She distributed the lube. She placed one hand on Armando’s lower back. Armando’s lower back arched up, as she placed her fingers at the entrance of his anus. His butt was very hairy all the way in between his butt cheeks. She inhaled. She exhaled and crammed her fingers in. Armando struggled. He tried to get up. Yet, Sandy swung her leg out and on top of Armando’s neck. She was standing there half like a ballerina doing a stretch at the bar and half like a movie martial artist doing a high kick. She kept turning and rotating her two fingers in Armando’s ass. Caroline cheered and clapped. Katie came closer to take a photo on her IPhone of Armando’s face in agony and Sandy’s heroic pose.

“Girl’s I need some help. We are going for the real deal.”

Caroline walked to the front of the desk. She kneeled down and put both of her fat hands on Armando’s hands. Her fake golden arm rings were oversized and fell sideways. Katie jumped on top of Armando in reverse. She faced his butt and put her butt down on his head. “Armando, let the rodeo begin. I am not wearing any panties today under my skirt!” Dave regretted not being the victim, when he heard that. Sandy looked at the large instrument in her hand. It looked like an oversized dildo attached to a vacuum tube. She switched the screen on. It beeped. She rolled a condom over the instrument for hygiene. Stephanie got up. “He is getting the real deal, not the synthetic stuff.” She spat on the imagine sensor. Sandy went around the girls to collect spit from all the girls before she distributed it over the entire imaging sensor.

Sandy placed the white sensor at his anus. She pushed. Only an inch or so of the tip went in. Armando was struggling. He lifted up Katie, who held onto his body with a cowgirl cheer. Sandy pressed harder. Armando started swiveling his butt away from the pressure force. Stephanie stepped forward. She reached under his belly and grabbed his penis firmly. “Any way that I can be of assistance. We might save your life today by chance. Don’t fight it.” Sandy gave it another push, before Stephanie took a hold of the anal probe. “He is just like my two little boys. It is only a little more to get over the hump.” Stephanie gave the anal probe a confident shove. It went in smoothly. Armando moaned and his head collapsed down under Katie’s weight.

Everyone gathered around the screen. Sandy would move the probe back and force, as well as turned it. The girls were busy looking at the grainy dots and lines to identify, what they saw. A little discussion broke out about a dark spot that may have been an early cancer growth. However, Dave suggested tilting the probe a little to find out, if it was a shadow. It was a shadow. Armando’s body started relaxing and going with the flow.

After Sandy pulled out the probe, she asked Armando, if he wanted to keep the used condom as a souvenir. Everyone dispersed quietly into their own directions.

That evening, Dave visited the confession booth.

“Who is it?”
“This is Dave the medical student, father Dagur. I have sinned again.”
“Why do people always say that they have sinned? It is already obvious by sitting down here. Tell me, child.”
“There is this classmate. Her name is Sandy. I have fantasies.”
“What are they, Dave?”
“She has these perfectly round boobs. She has these pretty bras with laces and colorful prints. I see the edge of them peaking out sometimes and imagine the rest of it. Most of all her spirit is so bubbly and upbeat. I believe, if I could hold and lick those boobs, her happiness would fill me as well.”
“So, you fantasize about that girl. What is in your fantasies?”
“Oh, father Dagur, I often sit in class behind her. I look at her freshly washed hair. I lean forward to get a smell of her shampoo. Then, I imagine that I take her by the hand and lead her to the stair case. All the way in the basement of the stair case, there is a hidden spot. Behind the last steps of the stair case is a completely hidden spot. I imagine us taking off each others clothes, kissing and breathing heavily, as the occasional hospital workers clunk their feet on the metal stairs barely above us. Her young, smooth, and joyful body and the idea of being close to getting caught, yet safe, is such a turn on.”
“Dave, that is completely normal. If you knew the thoughts passing my mind during my lonely evenings in the church. If you knew those fresh memories of nuns. Well, those are my own.”
“Father Dagur, you must think that I am very harsh on myself.”
“Dave, I must finally tell you a bit more about the Order of the Island. We have teaching that clearly breaks with believes of the Vatican. So, we keep them secret. You must not tell any of this to anyone, except Armando. Armando has the attributes that we seek in a priest. The order has approved a ten thousand dollar reward for you, if Armando becomes a priest with us.”
“Father, that is a lot of money. However, Armando is far from a celibacy oath. He parties every other week in bars and clubs.”
“Dave, you do not know the Order of the Island. We have a nursery in Vermont for all the illegitimate children. I have three of my own there. Our order is more interested in foul apples than the good apples, because the foul apples will willingly help cover up. Oh, I have told you too much, because you are such a straight arrow. Let me assure you that Armando will see the light.”
“Okay, father Dagur, five Hail Marries again?”

The last day before Thanks Giving was a special class. The professor was pacing in front of the class with his oversized microphone hanging on his shirt like a bib. A middle aged man was sitting silently on a swivel chair. The lecture desk contained two towers of clear sample cups. There were also a few magazines and video tapes that showed a lot of skin, faces, and large type.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today is another make it or break it day. Today, you have to proof that you have whatever it takes. We save lives. Your loving mother may tell you that you tried everything. To the patient it only matters that they survived or not. If a man lies bleeding in an alley and you don’t have a trauma kit, take your shirt off to make a compression pack. If a woman chokes in a restaurant and turns blue, do not tell her that you did not learn yet, how to treat her. Take a pen from the waiter and figure out, how to make a trachea cut on the spot. If a child in a car crash scenario screams your head off, so that you cannot concentrate, put duct tape on its mouth. Yes, it may seem cruel. Yet, do you want to loose the mother to uncontrollable bleeding or tell her grave that you cuddled her child?”

“The test today may be emotionally, morally, and religiously revolting to you. That is exactly the point of it. As a doctor, you must not be held back by imaginary hesitation. The patient’s health is of utmost importance.”

“Mr. Walter is a handsomely paid volunteer. He gets $200 an hour and has been through this many times. Your job is to collect a sperm sample from him. You have the tools available on this desk. The rest is only limited by your imagination. The trick is that you have to collectively get five samples out of him. The first sample will be easy. Each sampling will tire out Mr. Walter and it will get harder to arouse him. Volunteers first, then I pick victims. Failure to collect the sample is ground for dismissal from the course.”

Armando’s hand shot into the air like a school boy. The elbow was straight as an arrow. His fist held the singular index finger up. The professor waved for him to come down. Armando pulled his shirt straight with both hands. Then, he walked down the stairs with a swagger fully enjoying the attention of the students in his back. He confidently moved the DVDs and magazines around. He settled on an old issue of Naughty Neighbors magazine. He made four steps towards Mr. Walter. He swung around 180 degrees like John Travolta. He squatted down and put his arm around Mr. Walter’s shoulders. He opened the magazine.

“Mr. Walter may I introduce Veronique. Here she is crawling on a pool table. Look at this cheery face and her disheveled brown hair. Glance at these young smooth ass cheeks that she is spreading apart and the pink youthful vagina. Imagine pounding your dick inside there and looking at her dreamy happy face. Imagine your large hairy body taking that smooth little thing. Those moist feet make even me hard. Why don’t you take your pecker out and make yourself feel, what it would feel like to be inside of her.”

“Take a look at this photo below. Veronique is under the pool table split naked. Her toes are so cute and without that distracting nail polish. She is reclining with her legs pulled up, so that you can see her vagina. She is showing you her white teeth with the smile. Imagine, playing with her, chasing her through the apartment, as she playfully poses for you around the room. Every once in a while, she lets put your penis inside, yet only to get a little taste, never enough to start getting into a rhythm. Yes, Mr. Walter, keep pumping.”

“Take a look at this next photo, where is holding up her sweet eighteen panties with faded green, blue, and white stripes. Imagine your name on it: ‘Love, Mr. Walter.’ She lets you keep them as a memory. You can see the moist print of her vagina. You can smell her juices any time you want. Around her anus, there is a soft smell of her ass. It is the soft young smell of an eighteen year old girl. Yes and congratulations, that sample is mine.”

Armando raised the cup with the sperm high into the air. He put the cap on it and handed it to the professor.

Katie got up next. She was wearing a green skirt today with bright ring colored socks that went high and disappeared somewhere under her skirt. She grabbed the same Naught Neighbors magazine and walked up to Mr. Walter. Mr. Walter had his pants at his ankles. The penis was large yet flaccid.

“Sir, have a look at Cassandra. Look at those large jugs and white areolas. See her pink top is pushed up and she is pulling the orange panties to the side. Hm, that’s not doing it for you, sir. How about this photo of her, where her beautiful slender fingers are splayed over her large boob and lift it up to her mouth, so that she can lick the boob, while her eyes are peering straight at you out of the corners. Oh, could you please get hard, so that I pass?”

“How about this photo? She still has the same large jugs. She is completely naked, except for her high heels. Guys like girls naked in high heels, don’t they? Look at how far the panties at her knees are stretched by her pulling on them with her teeth. Wouldn’t you want to cop a feel?”

“Katie, you have a minute left. You make it or you are out.”

Katie dropped the magazine on the floor. She grabbed the flaccid penis and attempted pumping it. Yet, it was too soft. She put his hand on her boob. Her face lightened up and she started fumbling his penis faster. She put the man’s hand under her bra. Within seconds the member was hard. Katie added fire by straddling Mr. Walter’s knee with her legs. She pressed her panties under her skirt against his knee. The professor sensed the climax near and gave her a little extra time. Katie victoriously bowed to the class with the filled container in her hand.

The next girl performed outright fellatio. She had Mr. Walter kneeling over her. She sucked his penis from below and stimulated his prostate gland with two gloved fingers through the anus. Mr. Walter spasmed inside of her, while her cheeks puckered sucking the good stuff out of him. She spat the cum with her saliva into the sample cup. The professor shook his head. The girl screamed, “A working girl’s skills rock. This is how I put myself through med school!”

The final two candidates were guys, who utterly failed. Thanks Giving would provide the first longer break from the rigors of school. Sandy went to Armando’s family for Thanks Giving dinner. Her family was on the other coast. Armando’s family had a table full of Italian dishes: Risotto, pasta, pizza, foccachia, etc. Sandy secretly presented Armando with the panties she had been wearing under her dress. During the after dinner coffee sipping in the living room, she had walked up to him with her hands clutched around her tiny panties and stuck them into Armando’s coat pocket. When Armando whispered the tale in Dave’s ear during class the following Monday, Dave became distant.

Dave visited the confession booth that evening.
“Father Dagur, I am mad as hell. I want to kill Armando.”
“Dave, slow down. What is the matter dear?”
“Armando is getting the goods from Sandy now.”
“Oh, and you want the goods from Sandy. I understand.”
“She is so wonderful.”
“We can help each other. You want Armando gone. I want Armando.”
“Okay, what do I do to turn Armando into a priest to get him out of school and sight?”
“Rarely, does anyone become a voluntary member of the Order of the Island. We don’t even trust them. Blackmail is our preferred recruiting tool.”
“Won’t that be a sin to do?”
“Son, you know so little about our order. We have a Hail Mary factory in Indonesia. Faithful women are cooped in factory halls reciting Catholic rites twelve hours a day. They are cheap. It costs only a couple dollars to get a thousand Hail Mary’s. I will set up a revolving credit line of thirty days of Hail Mary’s for you.”
“What if something happens to me, before the Hail Mary’s are done?”
“Don’t worry. I will give you a phone number. You text the phone number with your pin and Hail Mary request and everything is taken care off by the fully automated system.”
“Wow! That’s religion of the 21st century.”
“You get me blackmail material and I take care of you.”
“Could I use my revolving credit line for the five Hail Maries now?”
“Don’t worry, those are on the house. Now, go make a plan!”

The next morning, the professor was red in his face. He started lecturing the moment that he walked in five minutes before the official start time of the class.

“Those idiots in Washington believe that they can meddle in matters of medicine. They try to tell us, how to operate. They are uprooting century old medical tradition. Some woman in Missouri complained. One uneducated little glib runs of her mouth to those insects in Washington: ‘Oh my feelings were hurt. I felt uncomfortable.’ Our profession rips out hearts and puts new ones in. We break through rib cages with saws. And, the media feels that we are inconveniencing the public by being hands on.”

“I myself have learned pelvic exams that way. The anesthetist knocks the patient out before surgery. While the surgical team preps for surgery, I got to practice a pelvic exam on the patient. It is much more humane to have young clumsy students practice on unconscious bodies. A shaking hand can hurt or even bruise. Few people like that, while they are conscious. Oh, the Washingtonites complain that we never ask the female patients for consent. Who would consent to a young student poking around their privates? Still they want to be checked by someone to make sure that the babies come out.”

“Today may be the last day to practice pelvic exams. In the future, you may have to practice by mere visualization. Today, there is a vote for new legislation. Today, we have all five surgery rooms booked with females. We have five females coming out of surgery and five going in. That’s a total of ten bodies waiting for you to practice. Grab your books and read up on pelvic exams, while we walk over to the holding rooms.”

Dave and Armando ended up at the end of the line. Fortunately, that gave them more time to study the pelvic exam procedure. When they entered the room, they found themselves in a simple and small hospital room. A little table and two chairs were against one wall. A very bright light was behind the only bed. The bed had a railing on each side to keep the unconscious patient from falling out. She was covered under a sheet. Her head was on a big fluffy blanket. Her face was pale and her hair curly natural red. The professor left them on their own devices in the room.

Armando grabbed the blanket by the two corners and lifted it up and down to create a wave with it, “Oh-hoo, whom do we have here? Anyone awake?” He laughed and finally tossed the sheet aside. The thirty year old woman was lying on her back like an angel. The white hospital gown with blue flowers reached down to the middle of her thighs. Dave folded the board at the foot of the bed down. They both grabbed each one leg and pulled her body down, so that her bottom was against the edge of the bed. For a moment, they were unsure, what to do about the legs, because there were no stirrups. Then, Armando decided to hold them up in a spread fashion. Dave took the legs down for a moment to pull the hospital undie with the diaper over her feet.

The red haired patient was no naked below with her stretched out spread legs held by Armando. Dave inspected the area around her firm, juicy labia. He folded the labia out with his fingers. He lifted the hood of the clitoris. He poked her urethra for a moment. He moved his nose clothes to smell for anything unusual. Armando shook the patients pelvis, so that his nose dove onto her vagina. He laughed. Dave wiped his nose. Dave continued inserting two fingers in her vagina. The other fingers palpated her abdomen. This way, he could feel the uterus in between his two hands. “Fucking shit, I forgot to put on gloves again.”

Armando laughed loud. He placed the red haired patients feet together and pretended that they were a talking mouth: “Ooh, you filthy doctor.” Dave got a pair of Nitrile gloves from the box near the door. He got back into position. Now, he inserted the speculum and looked at the round circle of the cervix. He inserted a cotton swap to take a sample. He finished the exam by spreading her butt cheeks and poking her anus looking for hemorrhoids. “Your turn.”

Dave went around the bed to hold the patients legs up. Armando got to the bottom of the bed. He looked at her pussy intently. He groomed the red pubic hair to one side. Only a landing strip above the vagina was unshaved. He opened his pant zipper and got his penis out. He whipped his penis against her outer vagina a few times. His penis increasingly hardened: “You like this? I will stop, if you tell me to. What a lucky find a true red pub.”

“Armando, you should use a condom to avoid leaving a trace. Here, I got one.” Dave held the condom out that he had secretly pierced with a needle. “Dave, when did you come around to having a little fun? Go watch the door. I got the legs.” Armando pushed the patients bottom up, so that her legs flung over her head. She was in the yoga pose called plough. Her chin was on her chest. The hospital gown fell down on her face. Her boobs were hanging over her gown. Armando stood over her. He inserted his penis and started pounding away. He finished quickly.

They returned the patient into a presentable position and moved her bed over to the next room, where the next student pair was waiting to practice. Dave and Armando separated at the next hallway intersection. Dave got his phone out and dialed the number from father Dagur.

“Italian pizza, how can I help you?”
“My name is Dave. My PIN is 7-8-7-7-9.”
“You are authorized. Please, go ahead.”
“The evidence for operation Armando needs to be secured ASAP. Armando is in the cafeteria at the street level.”
“Thank you, Dave. A team has been dispatched. Is there anything else that I can do for you?”
“Yes, I would like to call 10 days of Hail Maries from my credit line.”
“Of course, they are authorized now. You can finalize your confessing with father Dagur later today. It was a pleasure doing business with you today.”
“Good bye.”

Dave lingered in the hospital entrance. Half hour later four priests in black Armani suits and black sun glasses entered the front door. They wore black leather gloves and carried refined leather suitcases. The white collar clearly marked them as priests. Two of them swiftly walked for the cafeteria. The other two went for the elevator. Five minutes later Armando appeared with two of them. Both priests had their arms linked with Armando’s arms. He looked pale. Another five minutes and the other two priests appeared from the elevator. One of them handed Dave a check and said “well done.”

The next day, Armando appeared before class with balloons. He taped a banner to the back of the lecture hall: “I quite. I will become a priest.” As Katie walked past him, he grabbed her ass and smiled at her “need to confess anything?”

In language books using the superlative for more than one item is frowned upon. The people with the wagging finger imagine a line up of all items, where the item to the left is the worst friend and the one to the right the best friend. Obviously, in such a world, there can only be one best friend. If you are writing a carefully researched biography by all means be accurate and name the one best friend.

However, don’t buy into the claim that there is only one best item or person. Imagine a wine cellar and the owner attempting to pick the best wine for a guest. In practice, it is very hard to determine the single best bottle. One bottle may have a uniquely intriguing flavor, the other may have the most rounded taste, and another may be the most reviewed. We are left with a few bottles vying for the ‘best’ label. Unless our guest is a pedantic grammar teacher, the guest will be delighted with the privilege of enjoying anyone of our top choices.

Similarly friends are hard to exactly rank. Sandy picks me up from the airport every time. Lucy lets me cry on her shoulder. It would be a cool British understatement to tell either of them ‘you are one of my better friends.’ They would throw the nearest object at me for thinking so little of them. Things in life kind of fall into three categories: There is good food at the store. There is better food at specialty stores. Yet, the best food is the food that gets us really excited. You may replace the ‘best’ expression with premium or top. Yet, every company calls its products premium these days. And, top sounds a bit stilted, official, and outdated.

There is an innate need to set category levels in our modern world. In old times, you may have had a choice between the eggs from your aunts or your grand pa’s chicken coop. Nowadays, every market is saturated with many different quality levels and innovations. Traditional ways to categorize were first class, second class etc or A, double A, triple A etc. Calling Brady a triple A friend may get a chuckle, because it sounds a bit contrite.

If you must hold onto the logical idea that you ordered all your friends in a row with only one claiming the top spot, imagine a tie. If two swimmers have the exact same time, they both get the first place and the second place remains empty. Ha, you shudder at this logical loophole. Now, you can have multiple best friends, because they are all tied at the same position!

Let me console you, in speech, the thrust of best friends is often the emotion of connection rather than a precise inventory of the relationship. If a moviegoer walks out of the theatre saying that it was the best movie ever, he may not be expressing his multi-year research into movie history, he is expressing that he is utterly overcome by the movies emotion, intrigue, or action. In that very moment, it may very well appear the best movie to that person.

An expression like best friends forever is high on emotional content, not factual content. After all, we all know that forever means little. A year later, we may have lost touch. A decade later we may not remember our bff’s name. BFF is kind of its own special phrase that is more than its words would imply. A best man, for example, is not simply the best man to somebody. A best man has very specific responsibility at a wedding that cannot be directly inferred from the two words ‘best man.’

If you write a news article, don’t call Bidden BFF of Obama. Focus your news on facts. If your friend brings you a surprise cake, do not follow Strunks Style be being correct and concise: “Thank you.” Please tell her that you are blown to pieces and cannot imagine a better friend (even if another friend brought you ten cakes the week before!).

My name is Babbita. I am not the subject of observation. However, I have become part of it. I have gone native so to speak. So you must know me. My inclination has first manifested itself at age seven. I was hiding under a corner bench of a banquet. The grown ups minded their own wedding celebration business and did not pay attention to us kids, especially, because we were beneath the furniture. Nine feet ahead of me were Yamir and Yamika sitting on their behind with the legs slung sideways. A Western table served as a roof to the childhood play house. The tablecloths were the curtains. Yamika’s hot little hands were holding tender Yamir’s hands: “Will you marry me, when you grow up?” Bug eyed kiddie eyes looked back on her. After careful consideration of the novel idea, he agreed to marry her. Yamika placed a peck on Yamir’s check and slung off. The next boy whom she propositioned was Waman.

I carefully updated my notes on the back of the wedding invitation with a crayon. Then, I draw another line on what I know now as a network diagram. Yamika was a serial bride. Yamir was her seventh groom this afternoon already. Yamika was the first kid to have gotten the idea of asking for marriage promises. From there, other kids copied her. Yamir was growing wiser by the moment, as he turned around to face me. He crawled under the chair between us on his belly. With his big head resting on his arms, he looked at me:

“Will you marry me, when we grow up?”

An ivory tower collapsed then. My enthusiasm for tallying the wedding game collided with the need to muster an action. The action failed me. Yet, Yamir made up for it all by himself. He turned his lips upside down and firmly placed the bundle of wet on my lips. The heroine, yours truly, was further daunted by such impulse and affection. So, I ran crying for my mother’s skirt. Thus, ended my first anthropological study. The lesson was to better camouflage myself for further studies.

My parents should have realized my anthropological talent, when I pushed my older brother out of the closet. The darkness of night was outside the windows. The incandescent lamp lighted up the dinner table. Piles of rice were smothered in Dal. I liked my rice like a pyramid with the right side covered in Dal. My older brother liked his rice like a volcano with the Dal in the center as lava. My father liked to berate my mother about her duties in the household. He listed out all the things that he wanted her to buy at the grocery store. My mother was waving her index finger in the air higher and higher like a sailplane soaring in a thermal. When my father mentioned rice for the second time, because he hadn’t paid attention to his own list, her hand came smashing down on his chest with a shrill ‘Kutha.’

After 300 seconds of respectful silence, I announced that I had a presentation. Mother looked at me stern: “Is this for school or your nonsense?” I assured her that it was a relevant family matter. Her feet walking to the kitchen to fix dessert suggested her disbelieve in my words. I started by asserting that a twink described a young-looking, clean-looking, and slender man like my brother, as honorably as he was sitting at the dinner table. My brother helped me to an extra spoonful of rice. Unfortunately, he missed my plate and hit my sari. A bear described heavy-set and bearded male, who appears to be very cuddly. Observing the eye movement in the streets of my brother, he clearly preferred to check out bears. Last week counted 23 glances at a bear of more than 3 seconds. My brother must have gotten very excited, because he accidentally kicked my shins under the table.

Evidently, the fascination for boys had started five months ago, when the cousin from Bombay stayed with us for a weekend. He had shared the room with my brother and me. I had started making fake snoring noises immediately with lights out. It did not take long for the young lads to start a whispered conversation. The cousin was very proud of his male genitalia. They brought their penises out at moonlight to compare. The cousin’s seemed long, yet thin. My brother’s was more of a stout nature. They could not trust each other in the weak moonlight. As they did not dare turning on the light and wake me, they took measures on each other with their own hands. There was a discussion about measuring flaccid or stiff, from the back or from the front. They kept taking each others measurements until the cousin said, ‘feels good, doesn’t it?’ A silence had fallen. My brother invited the cousin into his bed to hold each other. Nothing happened that night. I carefully analyzed the bed sheets and the trash can. Father did not seem comforted by this, as he flung two plates off the dinner table, when his fist pounded on it.

However, my brother bought a magazine the next day with his new credit card for his 18th birthday gift. My unimaginative brother hid the magazine under his mattress. I regularly check the typical hiding spots in the house. My brother’s first centerfold was Ettore Tosi, an Italian porn stud. The centerfold showed him slouching in a turquoise ottoman. His head hair was short and curly. Warm blue eyes and a soft smile looked straight at the viewer. The chest hair was curly all the way out to the male nipples. The six pack abs were covered in fluffy hair with a thick line of hair running up the middle. His hands were holding down his khakis with an open fly. The penis hung out of the V of the pant fly like the lord’s candle. My brother left two cum dribs on the lower right corner. This was his first gay wanking session. Mother was waving the rice pot high in the air. She was completely oblivious that it had contained rice, which was now spilled over her hair, clothes, and the floor.

Obviously, I secretly followed my brother everywhere that week. By Friday, he had set up a date. If I may add, it took quite a bit of skill on my part to follow him for an hour through the busy streets. I was hiding behind the last antiquated red British telephone booth. He sat a bistro chair made from skinny wood. He was all dapper and even wearing an elegant white hat with a black band. The other young man was rather bear-like. His chest was big the suit was smooth. My dear father unduly interrupted me by pulling me into the air with both of his hands. I reached for the picture frame behind me. I waved the highlight of my presentation prematurely in the air. It was my brother’s wet and first used condom ever framed and preserved to show his children.

My father said that it was for my own protection, when he explained why he locked me in the closet. Obviously, the reaction to my presentation was rather surprising. I had diligently collected all the evidence to paint a rather engaging portrait of my brother’s sexual development. At the time, I used the night in the closet to take notes on my brother’s coming out night. Later, I noticed the pun of being locked in the closet, when my brother figuratively came out of the closet. I learned about de-closeting being a delicate emotional process. My academic arrogance had cheated me out of observing my brother’s coming out.

At the time, my class mates and family simply considered me nosy. I considered myself destined as a prodigy of anthropology. Unfortunately, my high school offered neither anthropology nor journalism. However, the school had Ekanga, our school’s handyman. He was a jolly man, who took much joy in watching the teenagers at lunch brake. He’d break up fights and give heart broken girls flowers from the school garden. We’d watch the teenagers scatter around and chatter with each other.

My favorite pastime with Ekanga was making profiles. We’d pick a kid like pocket grabber boy. We nicknamed him that. He had a habit of walking up to a girl and asking her to look over his homework. As the girl would lean over his papers, he would slide clothes pretending to get a better look. Then, he’d put his right hand in his pant pocket and start shifting around the change. When the girl would suspect some kind of oddness in the air and shifted a bit away, he would tell her that he was really scared of the particular teacher. They’d usually keep helping him. The smart ones told him that they’d bring his homework corrected back at the end of break and walked away.

Ekanga and I were curious to find the origin of the boy’s behavior. So, we made a bet. If I won, he promised to get me into an anthropology college. If he should win, I had to bring him a naked photo of my mother. He was a pervert in some ways and reminded me that college were a much bigger deal than a photo.

The last pocket boy’s last girl was a buxom blonde Indian of fair skin. She wore a black net over her hair. Her eye lids were colored blue. Pearls were her ear rings on either side. She wore a tight blue sari. I was nervous to approach her. She gave me a quick hug. A hug is an utter warm feeling that distracts from one’s purpose. The girl had not paid much mind to pocket boy. However, when his habit was revealed to her, she squirmed. A plan was laid to find the first girl. They would acquire pocket boy’s notebooks. With the help of other girls, they would find the handwriting of the first girl ever to write in his notebooks to help him with homework.

After school, they approached pocket boy. They asked him for a little company until the bus would arrive. It only takes two girls and a boy will do anything. They led him behind the school building to the athletic track. With school out, the area was completely abandoned. They sat down on the grass under a tree. The girl brought out an empty milk bottle from lunch and announced a game of truth or dare. Pocket boy was so excited, that he wiped his palms up and down his thighs. Do boys realize when they drool?

The girl’s first spin landed on me. She dared me to kiss her on the lips. That said, she leaned over before I realized, I tasted pink lipstick for the first time. Anthropological side note, lip stick colors cannot be tasted. Her hand reaching for one of my boobs startled me just as much. Her tongue slithered between my lips for a moment. Anthropological side note, this was my first French kiss. She smiled at me with a sparkle.

My next spin landed me the boy. Of course, I dared him to give me his notebooks until the next morning. He was all too eager to push me his book bag in exchange for making the next spin. I was the lucky one again. He dared me to show my boobs. The problem was that I was wearing a dress. Lifting up my white knee long dress would mean raising the hemline from my knees up to show my thighs, my panties, my belly, and finally my bra. So, I quickly jumped up, raising and lowering the same second to only exhibit a flash.

The bus honked to spare me further misery. I limped with his book bag hitting against my thigh. In the bus, the girl and I had our own booth. The seat in front of us gave us cover, so that only the bored and gray haired lady on the opposite side of the aisle could make out, what we were doing. Pocket boy’s hand writing was a horrible squiggle. All the letters were four levels high and as wide as a pigeon’s toe. Yet, every entry was diligently dated. The first girl’s corrections were made to an entry about five months ago. The girl was an observing Hindu girl, now sitting at the back of the bus in a chaste sari and sandals. She wore the correct bindi dot on her forehead for her caste, gender, and marital status. The only little personal flair on her was a bear pin. She was occupied reading Bhagavad Gita. We interrupted her middle in the discussion between Arjuna and Krishna, if it were better to forgo action or to act. The hindu girl was consciously upset about the interruption of her religious duty and subconsciously glad to be freed of reading the same well known chapter again.

Hindu girl quickly started telling about her encounter with pocket boy. It was during a class excursion. To celebrate the last student in class turning eighteen, the English language teacher had taken them to the first R rated movie: Sin Nombre. Funny enough, the movie was in Spanish with English subtitles. The boys in class thought that the teacher was too stupid. The girls in class thought that the teacher wanted to be hip and had taken them to a movie that showed young love and a bit of skin. Pocket boy had found his way onto the red seat with orange style lines next to Hindu girl.

At first, he had whispered her friendly things in her ear. After a few distractions from the movie, his lips had accidentally touched her ear. She had moved over to the other end of her chair. It was dark. Everyone was quiet to listen to the movie. She did not dare talking. However, when his arm fell over the arm rest onto her side, she told him firmly to keep his arms away from him. Faces started turning toward her. She froze into her seat trying karma yoga tricks to become invisible. Pocket boy’s hand came back a few movie scenes later. She told him to put his hands in his pocket and if she saw the brown skin of his hands outside her pocket, she would go to the teacher. Seemingly, it had worked. However, the breathing and body position in his chair suggested something laborsome going on. Only, the next day, when he asked her for help with his homework, had she realized what kind of pocket habit she had taught him.

Hindu girl and blondie decided to teach pocket boy a lesson in reverse eve teasing. They walked to the rear exit, where pocket boy was standing holding onto a pole in the bus. I stayed back to remain the objective observer. Blondie brushed against pocket boy’s salwar butt. He was wearing traditional pajama like salwar pants with a draw string. Pocket boy jumped a little up. His head cocked a little back, before it jumped forward, when he comprehended that someone had just touched his behind. Blondie left her hand hanging in the vicinity waiting for the next street corner. As the bus turned, everyone swayed a little to the opposite side, except for blondie’s hand, which reached between pocket boy’s legs to tweeze his balls briefly. Pocket boy moved forward to hug the bus pole. His gaze turned around to meet Blondie and Hindu girl. Blondie excused her ‘accident.’

Hindu girl wagered her move with the next pothole that had everyone jostling. Her fingers went on a sniping mission, pulling the drawstring of his pants. The loose salwar quickly slid down on both sides, exposing the white drawers. Pocket boy was holding his pants center. His shoulders seemed to duck a little, as he hastily secured his prudent dress. The Hindu girl got bold and flicked his nipple through the t-shirt.

The scene is still vivid in front of my eyes. The old ram shackled bus with the chips on the handles, the bright Bangalore sun, and the colorful throng of people outside in the streets. Pocket boy was making his way back in the bus away from the girls. A college girl stood with black ‘Blank Noise Project’ and jeans. All she wanted to know in the affirmative was, if it was justified and if frog boy was over eighteen. Then, she pushed pocket boy onto a bus bench, sat down next to him, and blocked him from getting out. Blondie and Hindu girl were kneeling on the bench in front of them. Blondie reached over the back rest to pinch his nose closed. As he started breathing through the mouth, Blondie taunted him, ‘oh, you are so turned on, you are panting already.’

“Do you want to touch my breast?” “No, no, no!” “Are you saying that my breasts are saggy, old, and ugly?” “No, no, no, they are wonderful!” The Blank Noise girl grabbed his hand and put it on her boob. With the other hand, she felt for his crotch. “Are you getting hard?” Pocket boy jumped back in the seat. It seemed that he tried to disappear in the fold between the seat upholstery and the backrest. “Oh, that’s not doing it for you, how about this?” Blank Noise put his hand from her boob inside of her jeans to feel her front. Blondie still leaning over the backrest raised her top to shower her yellow bra into pocket boy’s face. “Oh, you love those, don’t you?”

Hindu girl kicked of a sandal. She pulled her sari up, so that she could reach the leg across the backrest. She pushed the balls of her foot over his eye. “Kiss my feet, kiss my feet” Blank Noise girl let go of his hand on her boob to run her finger nails on his throat as a thread. He started kissing the balls of her foot. The Hindu girl giggled with enjoyment. “We got a hard one, pull his salwar off,” called the Blank Noise girl. The Hindu girl came around the seat. She squatted down and bent over Blank Noise girl’s sneakers to reach the ankle of pocket boy’s salwar. She pulled them down. His drawers stuck to the tightly tied drawstrings. She grabbed them and his sandals. She followed the instructions on the window to push in case of emergency. The window flapped open. The drawers, salwar, and sandals flew out into the street among the chaos of two stroke mopeds. With this, the older women at the back of the bus started shooing away the sole two men.

Pocket boy was sitting there in his t-shirt, naked underneath, with his penis hard in Blank Noise girl’s hand. He was sitting there with lust in his penis and panic in his head. The girls commanded him to dance. He was unmoved until Hindu girl’s hand slapped down on his face and left a red mark: “We want entertainment, too.” He stood up. He started moving his hips in circles. “Spank your ass, make us wet.” He spanked himself. “Show us your ass. Pull your cheeks to the side.” He did as ordered and revealed the pink of his anus. The girls started poking around in it. He was fire red in the face. He started struggling against them.

Blank Noise girl asked the Hindu girl for her Sari. A Sari is a long piece of fabric that is wrapped around the body a few times. She wore a modest bra and panties that covered half her thigh underneath. She had never been that naked in public. Yet, she merely looked like a Western tourist. She unwrapped the Sari from her body. Blank Noise girl tied pocket boy’s wrist behind his back and his ankles together. Then, she tied the ankles behind his back to his shoulders in a hog tie. He was lying on his stomach across both seats of the bus bench. She scooted towards the aisle, lowered her jeans and ordered him ‘eat!’ Her arms reached behind her to rest on the seat opposite the aisle. Her feet wrapped around his body. Her pelvis pushed into his face. Blondie spanked his naked butt over the backrest and cheered ‘eat her well.’

A mere minute later, the Blank Noise girl pushed him off. She partly untied him to take off his t-shirt and throw it out into the streets. Now completely naked, her lips went down on his rod until he was firm again. She straddled him with space in between, so that she could stroke his cock. She pushed one of her breast free of clothes into his mouth. He quickly came and soiled himself on his belly. So, he was sitting naked and drenched in his own cum in a public bus, completely exposed and denigrated.

The girls tied pocket boy naked in the aisle. His butt was facing forward. His hip was tied to one pole. His arms were tied to two poles further behind, so that he was bending forward. They painted with pink lip stick on his thigh and ass: “Eve teasing is bad. Please, teach me just how bad.” The girls ran of at the next stop, leaving him exposed and at the mercy of anyone. I stayed on the bus to observe.

The first person to approach him was an old man with gray hair and a neat shirt and pleated pants. He was walking with a wooden cane. It was one of those canes made of wood of the same diameter with a 180 degree curve on top. He reached the curved part of the cane between pocket boy’s legs. Then, he looped it over his penis and pulled back gently to probe the standing power of the still erect member. Satisfied, he pulled the wooden walking stick back. He tried to insert the handle of the stick into pocket boy’s ass. Yet, pocket boy was an anal virgin. So, he let go. He cupped pocket boys balls with his hands to say good bye.

The second person was a holy woman. She looked like she had been living in the streets of donations for months. Her hair was kinky, twisted, and unkempt. Her hands were dirty with street dust. She must have crawled through the filthiest streets as a form of karma yoga to wash clear of her sins. Her sole dress was a black torn sarong that was thrown over sloppily. It exposed skin here and there in between the folds of fabric. White and red paint covered most of her face. She approached pocket boy cautiously pushing the right leg forward and dragging the left behind. As she stood next to his naked butt, she called out to Lord Shiva and slapped his butt hard.

A uniformed police officer entered the bus. The driver had summoned for help earlier. However, the holy woman gave the whole thing the appearance of a religious act. The officer stood there curiously in the distance out of respect to this obviously ascetic initiation act. The woman started tickling the helplessly tied up pocket boy. While he writhed around giggling, she chanted to cow spirits. She reached under her sari to her crotch. Her hand came out. She painted mystic symbols on his back with juices of her unwashed twat. She sat on the ground under him and performed fellatio. As he came shuddering into the dirty wicked woman, she had her satisfaction. She hadn’t received any donations in days and was hungry. The cum was her food. She walked off the bus at the next stop.

The police officer called after her: “You forgot your disciple.” She was gone. The police officer scratched his head. Once backup arrived at the next bus stop, they untied him and walked him off the bus. They made a tight circle around him.

I remained sitting in the same seat. There were only people left in the front half of the bus. The streets outside had gotten empty, as we approached my residential neighborhood. I had a notepad on pen on my lap to record the events and the story of pocket boy. I glanced at people outside. I looked at their boobs, behind, and feet, the mundane body parts that had been so alive a few minutes ago. A woman walked with a sari that I now knew could be used to tie someone down. A sandal foot stepped into a water puddle with foam. I knew such a foot to be in pocket boy’s face a little earlier. Pocket boy, the boy who had learned to grab his penis through his pocket, while talking to girls.

At home, everything was quiet. My brother was probably out chasing pants. My dad was still at work. My mother was quietly doing house work. My room had an unmade bed and a pile of clothes. The computer was in the corner. The canopy of the tree outside my window shielded most of the sun light. The window was wide open. I could feel the outside air and hear the sounds of our quiet residential street. My computer crackled the hard drive as it started up. My brown hands were resting on the keyboard waiting for the slow box to come alive. The notebook with the fresh notes was open next to the keyboard. I looked at the snow globe on the drawer. It was a souvenir from visiting my uncle near the Himalayas. He had a beautiful farm with its own lake and baby chickens under a heat lamp.

My fingers started typing the anthropology article for the Bangalore Society of Living Anthropology: “Hidden Auto Erotic Behavior in Adolescents”. The time blurred as I was typing. By the time that I was done, I had to check around me, as darkness had fallen and my ma had already thrown her second slipper against the wall to make me come down for dinner: Yellow dal with rice and chapatti again. The good news was Mangos for dessert.

The next morning at school, Ekanga already waited outside on me. He stood there leaning against the school building with his hands in his farmer John pants with the two shoulder straps. His white sneakers were slightly worn. The stream of school children ignored him as they passed through the double glass door building. Ekanga looked straight at me, as I walked up to him. I was wearing a green skirt today to celebrate my successful research of yesterday. The green skirt was my most prized possession. It was from a boutique of imported clothing. It was knee high and made of soft, fluffy material.

After I finished telling pocket boy’s story on the way to my classroom, he said that he’d honor his bet. He would get me into a college to study anthropology. He’d drive me to admission interviews, write me a recommendation letter, tutor me, or whatever needed to be done. He said that he was bound by his word. He also suggested that the Blank Noise Project girl may have point to an interesting anthropology research project. The Blank Noise Project is an anti-eve teasing organization. They sometimes walk around with banners or video tape young man harassing young girls. Their slogan is ‘I never asked for it.’ I had been curious myself.

On the bus ride home, the Blank Noise girl was there again. She sat by herself. Today, she was wearing a tight snow camouflage pant that showed her butt clearly. She was wearing black slippers and a blank t-shirt with a deep v-cut. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. The black hair at her sides was smooth and shimmering in the daylight. Her lips were painted red and she had mascara on her eyes. She said, ‘hey girl,’ as I sat down next to her. She explained to me that she was part of the military wing of the Blank Noise project, just as the IRA had a political and a military wing. The political wing works the public perception and negotiations. The military wing achieves real results on the ground. She invited me to follow her. Her name was Fila.

Fila stood up. She placed herself next to a group of standing bus riders near the rear exit. A middle aged woman was facing the front. Her right hand held onto a vertical bus pole. In the crook of her elbow was a large black handbag hanging. It was one of those large handbags that may as well be able to have carried a shotgun. Next to her facing outside the window was college boy. He had his black hair slicked and styled. He was wearing a damper pant and shirt. The top button of his shirt was undone to add a casual note to his elegant appearance. He had an elegant leather watch on his arm. His face looked like he was a bit too eager to look like a business man. At the first rustling in the bus for a pot hole, everyone swayed a bit, except for Fila. Fila swiftly pushed the black handbag into the college boy’s groin. The middle aged woman assumed that her handbag was swinging, because of the pothole. The college boy’s eyes popped open and his butt popped back. Fila whispered to me: “It does not hurt them. It simply startles them a lot to get touched there. He is learning that the recipient side of eve teasing is not much fun.”

The cute college boy had the habit of changing his weight from one foot to the other about every minute. Every time, he did that, his body shifted a couple inches to either side. Fila perfectly timed the next shift towards her with her moving her full, beautiful, and round boobs forward. The college boys arm softly bumped into her boob. He stopped. He shirked back. His face turned red and he shuffled a step away mumbling ‘sorry.’ Fila quickly took up the space and waited for him to relax and shift his bodyweight again. When he turned at her in surprise again, she gave him a look like he was seriously out of line. He walked a few steps off to the center of the bus. There was a space without chairs to provide more standing room. Fila giggled to me: “This is the bus waltz.”

A minute later, Fila motioned me to follow her to where the college boy stood. There was a map over head. She placed herself in front of college boy to point her finger up at the map. She told me about a few stops that we could take for different clothing stores. I almost thought that she wanted me to go shopping with her, until she let her arm drop down with a little too much a swing. Her hand swung a bit behind her and got college boy in the crotch. He jumped a little bit with both feet. His posture and movement suggested discomfort and confusion. Fila said to him with a sexy voice: “Oh, you are standing awfully close to me.” College boy turned around to face away from us and cut us out of his world. She whispered to me: “Oh, now he is learning to give us girls some space.”

Fila slowly and carefully reached her hand towards his butt. His pants were dressy. The fabric was a pattern of grey, white, and black dots, mostly grey. His butt looked well formed. There was a sharp line running down his pants from ironing. At first, college boy did not even seem to notice the hand. With a little more pressure, his butt twitched like a fly had landed there. Fila started drawing circles on his butt cheek. College boy seemed to be confused. He made a step forward. Yet, Fila’s hand kept following him. She switched to his other butt cheek. A little boy from across the aisle was turned around back to watch the scene.

The crowd from the front of the bus shuffled deeper to the back to make place for newcomers. College boy had to make a step back to make space. Of course, Fila was standing right behind him. So, his body pushed against hers. Her boobs were rubbing in his back. His hand hanging down touched her pants. He turned around to apologize. Fila slapped his face faster. There were tears at the edge of his eyes. His face was deep red. He said that he was sorry. There was space behind Fila. Yet, she did not budge at all. The college boy was wedged between her and a large, overweight market merchant. The market merchant had large flabby t-shirt with sweat stains running down the bag.

College boy was now helplessly trapped. Fila’s hand started tapping his butt. She quickly and easily tapped on his butt in the middle and lower part. She gave him thin pinches with her thumb and index finger. When college boy reached back to push her hand away, she’d be quicker and make sure that his hand would reach her t-shirt or pant fabric. Then, she would loudly and shrill for everyone to hear tell him to let go of her clothes. He gave up resisting. Fila played with his butt, however she wanted.

The bus filled up even more until they were all stuck in a mass of people like a tire is stuck in deep mud. Fila pressed her body against college boys back side. Her thighs touched his hamstrings. Her boobs pressed against the middle of his back. Her lips were resting on the side of his neck leaving red lip prints. Her hand reached around his waste and slipped into the front of his pants. Her hand slipped under his drawers. Her hand slipped onto the hardened mast. Her hand explored the mast going down. Her hand found great depth until she reached the base of the mast. The hand gripped firmly and pulled the skin up over the head. With a little more pressure the hand pulled the skin down over the penis again. The hand explored the balls that were hanging much lower. The ball sack was relaxed, open, and large due to the heat in the bus.

College boy steadied his stance and got a firmer grip on the handrail. Fila enjoyed feeling the soft skin on the hard organ. She pumped it well. The penis started convulsing a bit. Fluid came out of it. The fluid slowly seeped into the drawers. Fila’s hand wiped herself off on the college boy’s clothes. A minute later, the fluid had seeped through the thin dress pant fabric and started marking a dark circle. Fila’s hand tapped the market merchant in front of college boy: “Hi, I think that this man has been rubbing himself on you.”

The market merchant turned around to seize up college boy. When the market merchant saw the dark wet spot at the crotch of the pants, he started bawling. Two large brawns came down on college boy’s shoulders. College boy came down to the floor with them. Bystanders were falling sideways. Others shuffled to the side. The market merchant was sitting on college boy’s belly. Ironically the wet spot was right up against his ass. I did not see more, because Fila was pulling me by the hand through the crowd. Fila found narrow spaces between people to squeeze in.

We were at the market. Multi-colored clothed people were pressing their way ahead, while pushing large bags and carts with their purchases in front of them. Fila pulled stickers out of her back pocket. She’d peel off the back side and press the sticky side onto crotches of men that she pushed her way through. An old man with grey hair and a shifty gait from age was holding his woman by the side. Fila’s hand made a mouth out of her middle finger and thumb. She pinched the old man’s underside with her index fingers on the balls and her thumb on his asshole. The man slowly turned around and looked at her to avoid startling his wife.

“The young man on the bus did not do anything. Yet, you punished him.”
“Yes, he did not do anything. Remember, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”
“I think that maybe you liked the handsome guy.”
“Yes, that too. What is your interest in this anyway?”
“I want to study anthropology in college. To get credentials on my college application, I am publishing papers at a local anthropology paper. My friend proposed that your organization would be a good topic.”
“I tell you, what a good topic is. It is the best topic ever. Research rites, codes, and life of secret societies at college! There is a college here in Bangalore, which has the most evolved secret student life of all schools in India. There are many reports and claims of bits and pieces. Yet, nobody has been able to write anything substantial about that college.”
“(continued) Three anthropologists have tried to go to the college undercover. The first already failed admissions. Apparently, one has to bring a man. The man has to completely undress and present an erect penis. Her husband, who had volunteered, apparently could not get hard under the pressure of the situation. The second was found on the first day naked in the trunk of a cab. She had three cucumbers stuck in her body: her mouth, her pussy, and her ass. The third lasted all four years in college. However, she was turned by the secret societies in school and never published a word.”

We kept walking through the market and taking different buses. Fila’s games with the men continued. I took notes. She even let me interview some of the men after her counter harassment, if she had only done simple things to them. That evening, I wrote another successful article for the Bangalore Society of Living Anthrophology. Ekanga had agreed in the end to come to the admissions interview, if he could wear a black towel across his face with holes for his eyes cut out.

The college building was a large rusty red square with white stones at the corner. There was a low brick wall around the building. The little patches of grass between the entrance gate and the building suggested that the designer had intended the brown patch to be a lush green lawn. A singular tree guarded a hard patch of soil. The hallway behind the entrance door was linoleum and functional white walls. A couple photos of principals hung on the wall. A glass cabinet showed a few trophies and certificates for various student activities. A wall carpet had the school banner woven in. An open door into an administrative room lit up the hallway a bit. There were only spaced out singular sounds suggesting that college was not in session at the moment due to an early summer break.

All the doors had square signs next to them. I stopped at the one labeled ‘principal’s office.’ Ekanga stood behind me. His nervousness made him seem extra wobbly. He was wearing a shirt with lines running across the white. His shoes were extra shined for the occasion. He carefully pulled the edges of his black towel over his face. He feared that he could be recognized by his ears and wanted to know, if they were showing. Supposedly, ears are as unique as a finger print. I was holding a portable stereo in one hand and my application papers in the other. I was struggling to knock at the door and open it later with my elbow. Ekanga was busy bending his elbows as a gymnast would to prepare for a series of summersaults.

The esteemed principal’s office had wide glass windows that gave an expansive few on the local low rooftops. Plaques and framed certificates gave the principal his power. The principal had a large leather chair with a high backrest. The two chairs in front of his wide and deep desk were simply metal frame chairs with a plain fabric and thin cushion. The armrests were simply metal bars holding the backrest in place. A wide open daily Bangalore newspaper hid the entire principal. Only a glowing cigar appeared to rest on a glass ashtray on the table and tell us: “Capture my attention.” It was an old application interview trick from Oxford to make the applicant work hard.

“Okay, my turn. Run the music!” said Ekanga. I pressed play on the portable stereo. The Bollywood movie music Dum Mast Mast started blaring. The stereo was quite chap. So, the blaring was stronger than the music. Ekanga jumped out of his chair. He raised his arms in front of him and started shaking his shoulders. His whole body flabbed around. Then, he jumped across the room scissoring his straight arms in front of him. Next, he rested his chin on the top edge of the principal’s newspaper. He had to lean far over the desk to get there. He started at the top button to undo his shirt. His butt was shaking next to my knees in the air with the music.

The shirt went flying through the air behind him. I had to get up to collect it. Now, Ekanga was half squatting down. He pulled his arm back and pulled himself forward by the power of pantomime. After a few pulls, his feet started swinging high to throw off his shoes. One shoe hit the window with a bang. The other shoe hit the lamp. I rummaged through the principal’s window plants to find the shoe. Ekanga stood now next to the principal vibrating his whole body to make his pants slide down. He stepped out of them and started running around the office to stop frequently and look around like a spy trying to spot a hidden enemy. Ekanga’s fat flapped on his middle aged body. He had a few hairs on his chest and rosy small nipple buds. His back was a bit hunkering round from fat with a bit muscle. Around this time, the principal covered his entire head in the newspaper. The principals head looked like Papier-mâché.

Ekanga started really getting into it as his hands and feet were on the ground with his butt happily in the air dancing to the music, while facing the sunlight and the principal. The son had ended. In stark silence, Ekanga rushed to get his drawers pulled down and flung over his feet. There was a little stomach fold over his pubic hair. His balls hang lower than his penis. Ekanga reached for the penis and talked to him: “Get hard! Get hard!” The silence brought the full awkwardness to the situation. It was awkward in both directions. Ekanga was naked, very immodest. Ekanga was soft, not good enough for admission. In desperation, Ekanga started smacking his penis on the leather of the desk with loud thuds. The principal’s head appeared from under the newspaper to find out, what was going on.

“Babbita, I would never think of you in that way. You got to hold my penis with your hand.” Ekanga turned to me. I reached with my hand for his penis. I felt the soft flesh. It felt like jell-o, only the skin held it together to keep it from running between my fingers. Worried about failing admission, I leaned forward, puckered my lips, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of the penis right were the opening was. Ekanga looked out of the window: “I am not even looking.” I was looking at the brownness and pinkness of it. I looked at the straight shaft and the round curve, where the head attached to the shaft. I gave it another neat kiss through puckered lips. This time, I pointed my tongue, moved my tongue out of my mouth and tasted the handyman’s penis. The skin was dry. I formed a large cave with my mouth. Without touching his penis, I slowly blew hot and moist air on it.

Ekanga’s penis started growing. I moved my head back to look at it. The head barely noticeably slow moved forward away from my hand. The shaft grew longer between my hand and the penis head. The penis grew rounder. Ekanga presented him right next to the principal with his hard on: “See, I did it all naked and erect!” “Yes, you did it. You may go now into the side room.” I gave Ekanga the pile of his clothes as he left through the side room. The principal reviewed my academic records and made me correct a few things on the application form.

The rest of my observations at the college are part of my dissertation. So, I cannot write about them. However, there was a time, when we went off campus. I can tell you that time. We had won the first dorm soccer tournament. Dorm soccer has little to do with real soccer. It is a vile hazing game with little rules that mainly provide the backdrop for abuse. Our team consisted of my room mates. There is Sheela. She is an innocent rural girl. She seems to have a little crush on our room mother Trishana. There is Rhada. She exudes sexuality and is very knowledgeable. My bunk mate Anisha tends to always get punished. She almost has aura that attracts punishment to her. It is like it is the only way that she knows that she belongs, if she gets punished. There was a highly promised reward for winning the dorm soccer tournament.

One of the dorm rules was absolute nudity from dusk till dawn. The reason for the rule was that our dorm mothers could at all times inspect our perfectly shaved pubic hair. Due to the proximity of living with so many girls it was deemed necessary to be cleanly shaven. The true reason was probably simply to have all the freshmen run around naked, while our dorm mothers, students of the last year, were dressed. My roommates and I were corralled out of our room, down the hallways into the yard in front of the school building. The low brick fence left us naked and exposed to the public. However, as it was night, the street was empty. The exception was the taxi that had stopped. The driver in his drab clothes was leaning against his car smoking and watching us.

The dorm mother’s explained to us that our treat and reward was a secret mission. It may seem at first like a punishment. We were to be given to a rival college for a night and day of punishment to their pleasing. However, the treat part was that we were on a secret mission. We were to still the underwear of the rival principal. To successfully steal a pair of his underwear would bestow much glory on us. If we succeeded, all of our freshman class mates would have to serve us however we wanted for an entire week.

We were let out onto the sidewalk with our bare feet on the pavement. There was a blue pickup truck. We were corralled onto of the truck bed. Our bare feet stood on the corrugated metal truck bed. Our naked butts sat on the rim of the metal trunk. We were quickly ushered to stand up. There was a tall metal create on the trunk bed. It was about six feet tall, like an oversized coffin. Sheela was told to lie down on the rough wood. Rhada was told to squeeze herself next to it. The two were nestled into the bottom of the crate touching each other. I was ordered to lie on top of Rhada facing down. Rhada kissed me on the lips as a warm welcome. Our boobs, stomach, and hips were resting skin to skin against each other. I lowered my head to her side to rest it comfortably.Anisha lay down next to me. The top of the crate was pushed against my butt. The sound of the hammer driving nails into the crate shuddered in my ears. The car started and we were driven off.

When the car would make a swift motion for an abrupt stop or a pothole, eight girl hands were reaching around four naked girl bodies. Rhada got tired of my weight. We tried to shift sideways to both lie on the side. My butt cheeks got pressed against Sheela behind me. Anisha accidentally drooled on my neck. Rhada stole kisses from my face.

The car motion was replaced by humans carrying our crate. The car motions were short jerks. The human motions were large and soft movements. We were placed on the ground. We heard a crowbar pulling nails out of the crate, until the chanting of many college girls drowned out the sound: “Fresh meat! Fresh meat!”

We weren’t given much of a chance. We got one glimpse of a large mess hall with clothed tables and college girls in uniform. Then, we would be dragged off by a single leg. The other leg would fall to the side to widely expose our sexes and anus to any onlooker. Thus, our weight resting on our chest, we were dragged. The smooth floor glided under our breasts. Occasionally, the skin squeaked against the floor.

Next we were lifted on little service tables on wheels. The tables were as long as our torso. Our butt was right at the edge of the table. The legs were placed on medical stirrups to raise them out of the way of any access to our bodily orifices below. Our heads rested on a little head rest extending out of the table. The surface of the table was covered with elegant white table clothes. Under the table was another level where certain knick knacks had been placed. We were neatly tied to the table with soft white rope.

A tall girl with a black, checkered skirt, white blouse, and shiny black shoes addressed the crowd: “Dear fellows, today we are learning to cook with humans.” The mess hall became quiet. The cook lifted a white asparagus stalk high into the air. “Of course, you expect something phallus shaped.” She pushed the white asparagus into my vagina. The feeling was cold and thin, so thin that my muscles or tension could not resist the foreign object.

“While the vaginal emission provides a nice coating, asparagus does not take on much of the pussy flavor. Something soft and porous like these bread cubes acts like a sponge absorbing her liquids. As bread easily crumbs and crumbs are hard to get out, we put the bread cubes into a little bag made from cheese clothes. It is called a sachet garni. It comes with a string attached to pull it out.” A finger joined the asparagus and started circling to loosen up my vagina. Then, the little bag with three bread cubes was pushed inside of me. This was all interesting for anthropological reasons. Human cooking is little documented.

“You probably wonder about the ass. There is so much more space. Even the taste may be strong, there is a valid place in human cooking. A little bit ass taste can be delicious, just like salt makes dishes excellent, yet is unbearable to eat by itself. Here is a cherry tomato. We will dip it into her ass only for a second and put it into her pussy for finishing. Covering the cherry tomato in olive oil makes it go in more easily.” A moment later, I felt two fingers pushing around the outside of my anus. Then, with a sudden movement, a cherry tomato plunged into me. I felt repulsed. I tried to call out, yet swallowed any sound in the shock. The cook’s voice told me to shit the cherry tomato out into her hand. A second later, her fingers pinched my nipples so hard that I felt it down to my clitoris. The pinch turned harder on my nipple, until I was pushing hard despite my repulsion to shit into a cupped hand of another person. The cherry tomato popped out. The cook held it up to her nose to smell it. With satisfaction, she pushed it into my vagina.

“Now, we don’t want to overfill the pussy oven. Even, if there is more space, there may not be enough juices to go around. So, let’s turn the oven on.” The cook rolled a Hitachi vibrator wand out on a rolling stand. The stand had three wheels and a height adjustable metal stick in between. The Hitachi want was placed against my vagina. The vibrations were intense and shook my body like a Jumping Jack soil compactor to make streets.

The cook lectured over the whirring of the vibrator: “Of course, when you get bored, there is the entertainment feature of a human oven.” My headrest was flipped down. I tried holding my neck up. Yet, a hand pushed down on my forehead. The cook lifted her skirt and dumped it over me. She pushed her vulva against my lips and told me to lick. Her vulva was dry. The cook must be nervous about public speaking. I licked her a couple times all the way up and down. Then, she stepped away. She continued her lecture on other recipes with Rhada, Sheela, and Anisha.

My world was intensely colored by the Hitachi at my pussy and my sexual feelings. It is weird getting sexual aroused without being mentally turned on. It is almost like an outer body experience. Apparently, my pussy got wet. Apparently, I felt good. Apparently, I was kind of confused about being in front of so many people naked and thus treated. As I got sweaty from the experience, the cook came back to place rice sushi rolls on my stomach and breasts. She wanted to soak up the essence of my sweat into the rice.

The feeling of pleasure rose and ebbed on my clitoris. At times, I felt my whole trunk dully being shaken by vibrations. Other times, I felt a plum of passion in my loins that made me press down on the Hitachi to feel it more. The first orgasm was the best. The latter ones were mere peaks. My eyes would close and all I’d see were colors. My eyes would fall open. With my head tilted back, I’d see one of the college girls at a dining table. She’d look at the cooking instructor handle Rhada. I’d look at her. I’d look at her pinks lips with that soft lip stick. I’d imagine her lip prints on my naked body. I’d imagine her mascara becoming runny, as she’d move her face across my sweaty body.

The cooking instructor deemed the food in me as done. Her index finger glided over my forehead to pick up sweat. She tasted my sweat in her mouth. She rated my sweat between dull and salty. She pulled away the Hitachi. She pressed her hand on my wet pussy, before she unplugged the food one by one out of my pussy. Her gingerly fingers went in. She’d swirl them around in a hook inside of me to get the last piece out. She placed all the food on a serving plate. It was white and had some soft blue ornaments. With a delicate knife and for, she cut all the pieces into tiny sample sizes and placed tooth picks on the plate as well. I was untied and told to squat on the floor.

I was squatting on the floor with my naked butt at my heel. My boobs rested against my knees. I had my arms wrapped around the shins for balance. The room was elegantly decorated. That made me the zoo animal on exhibition. The room was quiet as the college girls obeyed the ceremony. A plumb girl with fat curls around her face randomly stood out to me.

The cooking instructor gave me the presentation plate. I was sent off to walk in a squat to never raise my boy high, like one of the privileged people. I was to server as many girls as possible. I was to be quiet and only get their attention only by kissing their feet. So, I waddled on in my squat. The tooth picks tended to roll around. I had to be careful to keep them rolling only on the plate. The first table was a few steps away.

Four girls were sitting around the table. The table top with the white table clothes was at my eye level. They were above the table pretending to ignore me. My eyes were focused on the shiny black patent leather shoes of the first girl. The shiny black buckle went over the arch of her foot with the sinews showing as five lines crossing beneath it. Her brown skin was dry. Her thigh swung open. Her school uniform skirt went straight from the top of one thigh to the other like a roof. A pair of tidy white panties looked straight at me. Her hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled me forward into the triangle of her brown thighs. As my head reached the center of her thighs with my chest pressed against the cold edge of the chair, she wrapped them tight around my head. The voluptuous flesh of her thigh cradled my ears and pressed them against my skull. My cheeks were pushed forward. A heavy bulge of her thigh flesh pressed against my eyes making it hard to see. A hand took the plate from mine: “You don’t need to hold that.”

Her thighs turned sideways and torqued my whole body to shuffle under the table. The white table clothes brushed over my back. Her hand pushed against my black lush hair. I fell backward under the table. The table underside was like a room. The white table clothes fell halfway down to the floor in formal elegance. Eight knees, eight shins, and eight feet were extending into my room. The legs neatly kicked of the patent leather shoes and shoved them into a nice parallel pair next to each chair. The first foot had neat purple toe polish with white and black dashes extending from a center like a stylist flower. The foot landed squarely on one of my boobs. The foot pushed my nipples down. It pressed my breast tissue down in the center, so that it bulged up around the ball of her foot.

A more muscular and darker foot followed on my face and nose. It had rancid cheese-like smell: “Oh, I played extra hard Lacrosse for you and did not shower just for you.” The foot tapped my lips and cheeks like a game. Many feet followed on my legs and body. I could not individually count them. Eight naked girl feet were dancing on my body. I clearly noted that the feet started pushing in synchronicity to pull my legs apart. Following their success a foot started grinding on my pubic bone. In some kind of odd reflex to the confusing feeling of pleasure, I reached for a foot and started sucking on the big toe in some infantile regressive behavior.

“We need her for dessert,” said a firm voice. The happy dancing feet expulsed me out of my table tent. Strong arms grabbed my upper arms and pulled me towards a hotel trolley. There was a golden trolley that hotels used to transport baggage from the curb side to the room. It had a solid platform over wheels with a fake and worn carpet. Each corner had a two inch pole extending up to head level. Two poles were connected with an arch on top. The two arches were connected by a fake golden rod. The hotel porter would hang clothing from it. I was put on the carpet.

A soft white rope was wrapped around hip in three rounds. It fit snuggly against my pelvic bone. The rope was tight to the wardrobe rod on top. Another three rounds of a separate rope were wrapped around my upper torso close to my arm pit yet above most of my breast. The rope was also fastened to the wardrobe rod. Hand gently yet insistently pushed me to lean back, until my body was horizontal and resting on the two ropes like an ultra cheap hammock. The rope at my hips was raised a couple inches to make sure that only the balls of my foot touched the worn carpet.

Four more rounds of rope were wrapped around the middle of my trunk. These ensured that I would arch my back elegantly back. My hands were tied to opposite rods. I now looked like a high jumper pushing off the ground with my feet, while my back already arched over the jumping pole and my arms reached way back. My posture was finished by lifting my left thigh. My heel was pushed against my buttocks. Rope was wrapped a luxurious eight times around the tope of my thigh and ankle. The knee was fastened to a corner rod to ensure that my sex was spread open and available. The final touch was to tie my foot that was still in contact with the ground to remain in touch with the ground. Thus, I was strapped into the hotel trolley – immobile and elegant.

The cook from earlier pulled a serving cart close to me. It was covered by elegant white table cloth. On top of it was an alcohol burner with four plates. Each plate had a coffee pot with a long beak on it. The thick blue color with white sprinkles on the coffee pot looked pretty. Next to the coffee burner were little glass bowls with slithered almonds, bright colored sugar balls, and chocolate chips. “Chocolate is so delicious, because it melts in the mouth. This chocolate has been especially formulated to remain hard at body temperature.” The cook raised one of the kettles high into the air.

The cooks hand touched my shoulder as to reassure me that nothing bad would happen. She lifted the kettle high above my breast and tilted it forward. Thick brown liquid poured down. The burning pain jolted my senses. The next moment, it turned into a cozy warm caressing sensation. I started looking forward to the pain relieved by heart warming pleasure. The circles that the cook painted on my breast widened out from the nipples to create a bra. As the chocolate cover reached the edge of my boobs, the center at my nipples had turned into a hard chocolate brick. The firmness felt kind of good. There was something snug about body fitted chocolate.

The cook reached for another kettle. White thick liquid poured out of it. She painted little bows and crosses on my chocolate bra. The black kettle drew little fake folds onto my chocolate bra. It accentuated the bottom more as to give my breasts more shadow, depth and volume. She finished it off by using the bright yellow sugar balls to create a highlight on the top of my breasts.

My vagina was a lot more sensitive. The flow of hot chocolate on my clitoris was painful, yet the tingling that it caused was so sensual. The pain and tingling drove me wild. I wanted to have a penis inside of me to unleash the erotic fury that was building. I wanted more heat, yet a layer of chocolate had already set. The second layer only radiated mellow warmth through the set chocolate layer. Now I had a bikini top and bottom.

“Dessert time!” exclaimed the cook. A million chairs shuffling on the ground was followed by the click clock of a herd of patent leather shoes on the ground storming. The first lock of hair hit me in my face as a college girl had missed her mark and bumped into my head. The next was a mouth that eagerly lurched right into the middle of my breast and bit my nipple to break of a piece of chocolate. All the girls were pushing in around my hotel trolley. Some merely managed to hold onto the trolley or me to maintain position. A few others managed to maintain their balance in the pushing and shoving to dart their mouths and tongues onto my body. They were feverish like a herd of piranhas darting to chew their prey clean to the bone. I don’t recall the details. It felt wonderful like a million cats licking you with their tongues. There was a mixture of softness of tongues and the sharp prick of teeth biting a bit more than the chocolate. There was the contrast of pin accurate mouths and broad bodies being pushed against mine by the crowd.

As the last straggler found out that I was licked and bitten clean, the crowd gave a bit of space. The girls had gotten the chocolate distributed over their face and smeared on their clean and prim clothes. The cook laughed broadly. My roommates looked at me in a kind of horror.

My roommates and I were finally released from the dinner processions. We were lead upstairs to the dormitory. The rich mahogany railing of the stairs, the marble tiles on the floor, and elaborately framed photos at the wall were beautiful. We were locked into the shower room. Little square white and blue tiles covered the floor, walls, and ceilings. Metal drains were in the middle of the room. A nest of mattresses and blankets was in the corner of the shower. We showered our naked bodies from the dinner leftovers and cuddled in the corner on the makeshift bedding. A plastic pouch of cookies was hidden under a pillow.

After the cookie snack, I started bawling. The echo of my sound startled me and I started sobbing quietly. Rhada came close. Like all the nights, I pushed her away. Her strong body stayed close and moved on top of me. The whole experience of my undercover research into college hazing is so overwhelming. Most of my life has been spent observing and mentally living the wildest things, yet even being talked to by a friend caused anxiety to me. Being so intensely thrust into the world to feel and be treated is so overwhelming. It is not that I want to cry. It is that these waves come over me and all my academic reason leaves me. I want to stop shuddering, yet my body keeps shuddering. I hear my wailing voice. It scares me. It sounds foreign. And, then Rhada breaks through my struggle each time. I feel her warm body. I feel her kisses on my lips. I feel being held. I start feeling consoled. I surrender to her. She starts eating my pussy. It makes me ashamed. And, then this good feeling rises up my spine. The pleasure dispels the shame like the sun dispels the night’s shadow. The demons are scared into the corners and deep underground. I feel good in pleasure united with Rhada. That’s how it also was this time. The clean white high thread count sheets felt luxurious. I started licking Rhada’s labia to return the favor. Sleepiness settled in. I’d drift a sleep and jolt awake to remember to lick and suck Rhada. I’d dream and find myself suckling on her clitoris.

The slight morning light tickled my face and roused me to look around. The college girls had snuck into the shower. They had little woven baskets in their hand. A few purple flower petals were falling down on my face. It was not the morning light that had tickled me. They were showering us with flower petals. Rhada, the lucky one, had rich red rose petals falling on her butt. The butt was still near my face. She had moved a little down on my torso. We were to be in a good mood to meet the principle.

The rival college girls formed a circle around us, as we were lead back through the hallways and down the stair case. The door was large and made of dark mahogany. The door plate spelled out the principals name ‘Ram Singh.’ Above the name was a photo of a jolly laughing man in a suit with a tie. The dark knocking sound hinted at the depth and weight of the door: “Come in, beautifuls.” The principal’s office had all the furnishings of a noble office. There was an old fashioned globe from wood, a leather coach, floor to ceiling book shelves with old books. The towering wooden desk was filled with a name plate, business card holder, pen holder, papers, and oddly a cheap plastic radio. Behind the desk sitting on a high back rest leather chair was the principal. He was wearing a suit. His hair was short to hide the receding section. Gray hair crawled over his scalp in between the still black hair. Big glasses were taken from his nose and put on the desk. The jacket of his suit was resting on the backrest.

My roommates and I were by ourselves with the principal. The rival college girls had left quickly. The principal smiled broadly at us. We were standing around a bit unsure. Was the principal in on this? Was our nakedness appropriate? Would he play with us? We had always only been played with by other college girls. Some of the awkwardness left, when the principal took of his pressed pants. Without his pants, the big white boxer shorts showed and the neat black dress socks.

“First, we shall get my dick hard.”

He motioned Rhada to kneel under his desk, pull his drawers down, and take in his whole penis. Rhada kneeled in front of him. He slid to the front of the chair reclining. Rhada took his flaccid penis. Because it was soft, she could take it in her mouth completely. Her lips wrapped around his penis at the bottom of the shaft. To show off, she licked his balls with her tongue.

Sheela was asked to stand on his arm rest with her behind toward him. Her hands were resting on the table as she leaned forward. The leaning forward made her sex shine trough behind her legs. The principal took some broad licks with his whole tongue. Then, he pressed his mouth into her sex and started munching deeply. His hands pulled her hips closer.

Within a minute, the principal was standing stiff. He sent Rhada and Sheela to stand in front of the desk with us. He took off his dress shirt and undershirt. His belly was big and flaccid. The chest hairs were a few isolated white curls. The muscles on his arms and chest were sagging like an old man.

“Let’s play a little game. Shall we! You all know musical chairs. It is that game, where you have to move from position to position until the music stops. The girl not having a position gets eliminated. This game is a little different. I will play music. You will jump on my lap. You will thrust your vagina on my penis. Then, you thrust your butt on my penis. After those two thrusts, you move on. The next girl gets in position. The girl on top of me, when the music stops, gets to finish me off.”

The principal pressed play on the cheap plastic boom box. Marching music sounded. “Let’s go ladies!” Rhada was the first to jump on his chair. Her naked feet were standing on his arm rest. She squatted down on his penis. She took his penis in her vagina and moaned as her vagina was still tight this morning. She lifted her hips to position his penis under her ass. He pushed her down. She yelped and fell a little bit back. He held her from falling hard onto the edge of the table. Rhada jumped away.

I jumped after her. I liked the idea of feeling Rhada on his penis. Our morning cuddling had been cut short. Up close, the principal was all breathy. He was heaving with excitement. His face had a double chin and squirrel cheeks. He could have stored quite a few nuts in his mouth with those extra pockets. I took him into my front. He exhaled deeply a smell of sausage and eggs waved across my face. I gave him the pooper for that, stuffing his penis into my behind. Then, I jumped off his lap.

Quickly, the game turned into a rapid chase. One of us would plop her vagina on him with a loud thud of sweaty skin hitting sweaty skin. A quick lift and second drop with another skin on skin thud. Off, we’d be. The next girl would climb him. The former girl would dash half way around the desk to wait in line again.

When I came around for the fourth time, he slapped the boom box to stop. He pulled me close. His red lips covering the gap of his mouth opened with spit spindles hanging thinly from the upper to the lower lip. He swallowed my mouth. His pelvis thrust inside of me rapidly. My legs were still squat style up, so that he penetrated me deeply. When he convulsed in orgasm and his glassy eyes looked into mine two inches away, I heard Rhada rustle his clothes in the background.

As the sated man slumped deeper into his rich leather chair, Rhada opened the window and called on us to follow her: “I got his drawers. Let’s get out of here.” Outside the window was a lovely vegetable garden with half ripened fruit. The glorious morning was still working on waking up the neighborhood. The thick European grass felt luxurious under my feet. Rhada was already cowering under the low white washed brick wall at the edge of the college. Her mind was action oriented looking for a way back to our school with our exposed nakedness.

She found a pile of news papers under a nearby tree. She instructed us to roll a few pages to make strings out of them. We’d wrap a plain sheet around us to cover our bodies. Then, we’d use a rolled paper sausage to tie the sheet in place. We’d wrap the top of the flat sheet around the rolled paper sausage to hide the paper sausage. In that way, we had one such piece covering our hips and another covering our breast right under the arm pits. We looked a little like Tahitian girls with grass skirts and coconut bikinis.

Back at our school, we presented the rival principal’s underwear as our trophy. We had succeeded with our spy mission. The girls quickly walked us to our own principal. He quickly walked us out of our own college. He put us on the back seat of the car. We were pressed together four girls on a narrow seat bench for three. As he walked us back to the principal, we got to sit similarly pressed together on the leather coach. Our principal proudly waved the drawer in front of the rival principal’s face. The rival principal gnashed his face: “Okay, you got me this time.”

While we were breathless for the negotiation of the return of the drawer to happen, the principals packed out a game of Backgammon. We did not understand their complacency. The tension was clearly in the air. The dice knocked against the game box. Our principal would remind the rival principal to drink with every throw of the dice. The rival principal had already finished one and a half large plastic bottles of water. “Okay, I am ready,” said the rival principal. Our principal smiled overly happy and jumped a little bit into air, when he got up with too much eagerness.

We followed the two up the stairs, along the hallway, and into the girl’s shower room. Our principal took of his clothes. He waved his fist in the air and did a little Jimmy dancing in a circle. His eyes looked a little bluer. The rival principal chewed air with his teeth to work off a little bit of his unwilling energy: “Okay, old man, here comes your birthday gift.” Our principal kneeled in front of the rival principal. His outstretched arms reached back with his fingers sprayed open. He looked like a little boy running towards the beach for the first time. The rival principal unzipped his pants. He got his old penis out and started peeing at our principal. The strong volume of the one and a half water bottles from earlier unleashed.

Our principal let the mostly white stream of urine fall on his chest. Then, he doused his hair in it. He let it spray on his face. He opened his mouth. His mouth filled and the urine spilled out on the side of his lips. He gargled urine. He swallowed urine. As the last drops came out of the rival penis, his cupped hands caught them. He eagerly licked them up. Then, he rolled onto his back to roll in the puddle of pee on the floor. The rival principal shook his head and looked at us: “We are former lovers. This is what he most fondly remembers of our liaison.”

The little plastic doll had a round head. The face was two black dots for eyes, two pink dots for cheeks, and a wide black arc in the middle for a smile. Her hair was black and covered have the head. A red bow and a branch with yellow flowers accessorized the hair. The doll wore a kimono colored by bright red, orange, and yellow bands. Her cue flip flops on the feet rounded out the doll. She was hanging by a string from a pen. The pen had "atashi no dorimu no sekai" written on it – “my dreamland.”

The pen was writing on a thank you card with traditional Japanese line drawing. A dragon looked back. He had skin, hair, or wings flying in long banners in the wind. A tree stood over him. The landscape’s rocks near and hills distant balanced the motif. The pen wrote much gratitude to a grand mother for all her letters and gifts, while Aiko had gone to high school in Tokyo.

Her academic cap, the mortarboard, lay next to her on the little fold out table. The tassel neatly lay across the top with the last bit hanging down. The end of the tassel swung like a pendulum with each bump on the tracks of the railroad. The landscape blurred outside the window. The Shinkansen high speed train was going at over 200 mph. The business men and women in the compartment were on their way home. Aiko was on her way to celebrate her belated 18th birthday with her grand parents.

Her grand parents lived in Hokkaido, the large Northern island of Japan. They lived in a little remote village with the other remaining Ainu people. Most Ainu people had been killed by sword or starved by poverty. The current approach by the government was dilution of culture by consistent interbreeding. The village kept its ethnic origin secret from travel books and government census. The only hint of Ainu people in the village was a traditional reed hut in the center. It was still there as the taxi with Aiko drove a circle around it.

Grandma rushed to Aiko stepping out of the car. The large bosom, belly, and overfloating clothes of grandma wrapped around Aiko. The congregation of a slow stepping grand pa, little nephews, nieces, and dogs followed. “Look at you,” said grand ma and stepped back. Aiko was wearing a knee high white summer dress with shoulder straps. Her breasts were covered by two white triangles attached to the shoulder straps. The edges of her tender young boobs peeked out among the edges of the triangles. Her hair was black and long. She still had cute and stubby knees. Her feet stood on white high heels.

Aiko took a deep breath to feel the fresh forest air from the forest surrounding the village. She listened to the familiar noises of her childhood: Dogs running around, kids making their play sounds, relatives clicking kitchen utensils and pots, and the wind whistling through the trees. The smell of forest dirt was fresh. The smell roasted wolf flesh reminded her nose about the traditional foods.

She handed her grand mother a neatly gift wrapped present with the dragon card. The wrapping paper had neat creases all around. The end of the paper was folded under to hide the uneven cut. Not a single clear tape was visible, because the double tape had been placed under the wrapping paper. Aiko bowed deeply. Her grand mother bowed deeply. Then, they laughed at the old tradition. The present was an artisan made calligraphy set with brush, ink stone, ink stick, calligraphy pad, and water bottle.

The house was simple, poor, and full of love. The contrast was the high tech toilet that a rich uncle had insisted on installing. He had threatened that he would never visit my grand parents, if he could not receive comfort in a civilized manner. That thing stood in front of her. The long journey had built up a solid need to relief herself. That thing looked like a mushroom. It had a round stem at the bottom. The top was a big bulge with the extensions spreading horizontally. It was even carefully painted to look like a mushroom. There was no gap anywhere to open the thing.

Aiko stepped closer. The thing opened by itself. Pleasant singing of whales came out of the toilet. The whales sounded like sonar pinging, like a dog whining, like a squeegee pulling over a windshield, like a teacher blowing his nose. So, she sat on top of those otherworldly noises with her naked butt. Her vagina smelled strange. It smelled funny like the salty ocean and her mother’s perfume. The smell became so strong that it clearly was not her vagina. The toilet was deodorizing.

So, she sat there with her white panties around her ankles. They were white and tied with strings at the side. Her little toes were cute, moist, and knobby, as they were pressed forward in her white high heels with the cork soles. Her elbows rested on her knees. Her cheeks rested on her hands. The bottom of her dress was pressed between her hands and cheeks to raise it up. Her gaze looked around the room and toiletry bottles of her grand ma. Her naked hips rested over the whale song waiting for a movement.

The tugging feeling started in her rectum. She started breathing deeply to help the fecal matter move along. She felt it slowly moving. Then, the anal sphincter stretched. It stretched far for the big lump that had collected during the whole day’s voyage. The stretch felt so good and pleasurable. The brick fell into the water. Water sprayed back up at her perineum. She hated the idea of fecal water touching her privates. Yet, the pulsing at her urethra announced the imminent pee. The pee gushed forward with a slide shudder of her body. Tingling enveloped her body from the toes to the hair roots on her head.

There was no toilet paper to be found around her. The control panel for the toilet had a spray button. She had read in the magazines that toilets like these had a water jet. The stream of water hitting her vulva startled her. She jumped half up, remembering to control herself to avoid watering the whole bathroom. She pushed her bottoms down against the stream. She felt the warm pleasure of the millions of nerve endings around her anus, as the warm stream cleaned her. She pressed the pulse button on the control panel. The pulse would send three flashes of water at her anus. The fourth flash was thrice as firm. It was so firm that the water entered her rectum. Then, it paused as the water flowed out of her. The cycle repeated. She felt the heat in her cheeks, each time the fourth pulse sent water inside of her.

She pressed the soap button. The toilet under her hissed and sprayed super hot soap suds in a wide spray for a second. Her behind burned like on coals. A cold spray with ice water followed to rinse of the soap. Her nipples firmed at the coldness and her sensitive underside started feeling numb in the ice water. She had enough and pressed on the fan drying button. The water stopped. A gentle warm air enveloped her whole behind. The air caressed up her back and up in between her thighs. She relaxed into the soothing wind. Her butt was drying. Her vagina was drying. Actually, her vagina started feeling sensitive and slightly painful from being heated too much. The feeling was kind of pleasurable and turned her on a bit. She let her pussy become hot, painful, and throbbingly erotic.

She finally pressed the moisturizer button. A fine spray of aerosol white moisturizer landed on her behind, anus, and vagina. The millions of tiny moisturizer bubbles were deliciously cool. She rubbed the white film into her skin. When her hand touched her clitoris, it felt so good that she kept moving more moisturizer into her slit. Her hand moved up and down inside of her labia. When she reached the point, where simple pleasure and the need to orgasm meet, she switched to putting her fingers flat on her clitoris. She circled swiftly. “Just like teenage times,” ran through her head, when she quickly came. She considered leaving her panties off, as she felt free and happy.

Dinner was waiting on Aiko. The whole family was already sitting on the floor mats. Her little city nephew wanted to know from her: “Is that really wolf? Like a big bad wolf?” Her niece from the village wanted to know, if she had gotten her the tokidoki stickers form the city. Her grand mother told her that her father should return from Tokyo to live with her mother. They were divorced long ago, a fact that didn’t seem to exist in grand mothers world.

When grand father started talking about the kamui, everyone became quiet. The kamui are the spirits inside of people, animals, plants, and rocks. They are what animates them. Grand father said that he had spoken with the wolf kamui, before he was killed. The wolf kamui had told him about a wolf romance. Last spring, the wolf had met the most beautiful wolverine right near the large canyon. They had instantly fallen in love. However, her last lover was jealous. So, a big fight ensued. It lasted for three days. On the third day, they were starved and thirsty. The wolf finally threw the other wolf down a steep slope. The kids in the audience were excited. They mindlessly squeezed their little toes. Sadly, the romance lasted only as long as spring. A car hit the wolverine. The wolf had since lived in sadness yearning to be re-united. That’s when the wolf offered his body to grand father, so that his kamui could be free to search for his heavenly wolverine kamui. The mountain spirit guided the wolf kamui to find the wolverine on the peak of a Daisetszuan volcano. Grand pa would not tell them which volcano exactly, because he knew the kids to be mischievous. They giggled loud and proud about themselves.

The next day, two vans were packed with family and other village people. The little niece was proud to sit on the front bench of the van. She was squeezed in between grandma and grandpa. They were glad to have freed up a seat in the back that way. An uncle sat there with his hiking head, a glad smile on the face, and both hands on his hiking stick in front of him. The little nephew was sitting next to him. He was unzipping the uncles zippers in pure amazement how many pockets the uncle’s hiking jacket contained. The aunt next to Aiko was holding a large bowl of salad covered with plastic wrap on her lap. A tonkori was in Aiko’s lap. She plugged the strings of the tonkori. Upon hearing the sound, grandpa started singing about the bear deity. The rest of the van started humming along.

Once the two van caravan turned onto a dirt road into the heart of Daisetsuzan national park, the van started shaking. The belongings on their laps jumped up every once in a while. Grandma was startled by a tree branch smacking her side of the windshield. Grandpa loved in joy about his driving, as the tires were half spinning and gliding through the wet muddy soil. The aunt called out to the deity of the ocean.

The destination was close. The grassy clearing was wonderfully inviting in the warm summer sun. The entire extended family sat in a large circle. Grandpa sent the underage girls to bring wildflowers. The smallest girls were the proudest to be given such an important task. With gleaming faces, they ran off on their little legs. A watchful eye was sent by the mothers. The eyes were cautious that they may trip over a log, rock, or plainly the uneven ground. The niece returned to Aiku to place a daisy flower into her outreached palms. The daisy flower lay across both palms. The niece kept a red clover for herself.

Thus, the family was sitting in a circle with flowers raised like an offering to the circle. Aiku felt the playfulness and joy of the plant kamui in her hand. She started humming in high short pitches to give the daisy kamui sound. Her niece next to her was mumbling ‘hm – bum – bum’ to express the clover kamui. Grandma had the same melodic notes that she had for all plants. A gentle breeze ruffled the quietly sitting extended families clothes and hair. Grandpa announced that the spirits had thanked them.

He sent the underage boys to collect lady bugs. The exuberance of the boys quickly started a competition for the most lady bugs. Moments later, the nephew stood in front of Aiku with a gleaming face. He carefully put one finger in the way of a lady bug running on his forearm. Then, he placed the lady bug into Aiko’s hand. He was eager to repeat the process with the many lady bugs that were running over his arms, legs, shirt, and everywhere. Aiko smilingly stopped him.

The little ladybug ran over her hand. It tingled a little bit, not enough to tickle, yet enough to feel enlivened. The ladybug ran up on her finger. He fluttered his red wings with the black dots to expose the black wings underneath. He closed them again. The second time, he flew off. Aiko jumped up. She started running after him. He flew high into the air. He turned around. Aiko jumped up to him. She skipped past her grandpa, who was following his own ladybug. The Ainu people were dancing with the ladybugs in the clearing. Aiko’s ladybug landed in the grass. She lay down on her stomach to keep watching him. Her niece snuggled up to her from the side. She asked, if she could watch hers, because her own had disappeared. Thus, they lay side by side watching the ladybug climb one grass stalk after the next.

The men and the women separated. Grandma held both of Aiko’s hands. She explained to her that the time had come for Aiko’s rite of passage. She needed to walk into the forest, meet the spirits, and return. She was to walk barehanded without any tool, so that she would have to proof her communion with nature to live. Aiko nervously asked, if the men were clearly out of sight. After grandma assured her, she took off her shoes. As she unclipped them, the niece asked, if she could hold them for her. She pulled her dress over her head. She handed her bra and panties to her grandma.

Stark naked, her right forearm covered both her breast. Her left arm was swinging hard as her feet ran across the grass. The grass had been soft on her soles. At the edge of the clearing, the sticks, stones, and branches poked her soles. She walked. Her naked butt was waddling left-right, as she disappeared into the forest from her family. She dropped her right arm. The feeling of nudity felt free. She felt the soft air moving on her butt and vagina, two places that were always covered by firm panties. It made her happy and she started humming a song.

She came up to a tree that felt special to her. She leaned her chest against the tree. Some of the bark crumpled on her nipples. Her nipples felt the rough and grooved bark of the tree. Her belly was breathing against the log. Her arms wrapped around the tree. Her nose touched the bark. She could smell the deep vanilla-pineapple flavor of the tree. Her backside was naked with her black hair falling down on it. The tree kamui told her to seek a dip to her left.

She wiped the bark crumbs of her breast and belly, as she walked to the left. The tall tree logs were high. The canopy above her head was thick. Yet, beneath the canopy, the air felt free for her to run every which way she wanted. Soon enough, a dip and creek appeared. Next to the creek a patch of yomogi appeared. She collected the soft leaves of the plant. Close by was a kusamaki tree with red berries. She collected those as well. She put both on a flag creek rock. Using a round fist sized creek rock, she smashed and mashed the yomogi leaves and kusamaki berries together. The yomogi leaves quickly gave green sap to the rock and painted it green. The kusamaki berries let go of their read sap. Once mashed into a singular ball, she started chewing and sucking on it.

Her first hallucination was a volleyball dropping out of nowhere onto the ground in front of her. The volleyball dropped away into thin air. She turned around herself and looked carefully at the pink elephant. The pink elephant cautiously looked out from behind a tree with his tusk. He blew his tusk into the air. Yellow sparkles came out of it. Aiko looked around. There were yellow sparkles everywhere. The golden sparkles were so beautiful that they mesmerized Aiko. Aiko wanted to touch them. She walked towards them. Yet, they would always disappear before she could touch them. She went after the most beautiful golden sparkles that she could see. She followed one swarm of sparkles and then the next. It was so pleasurable to reach for the joy in the air. Her body started turning blue like a smurf.

Her senses jolted back to her two, three, or four hours later. She could not tell the passage of time. Yet, she could tell that she must have climbed far up the mountain. Snow surrounded her. Her naked feet were stepping over the ankle deep into snow. Her body was sweat covered and shaking violently from the cold. The trees up here had not yet sprouted their foliage, because they were apparently in a shaded cold pocket of the mountain. Aiko felt her life being in danger of dying within hours in the cold. Her hands were blue and painfully cold. Tears started running down her face. She walked on. Every step was putting her feet into another cutting cold blanket of snow. She wanted to fall down and give up, yet the idea of touching her body to the snow kept her standing up.

Not too far, she could see the steam of a natural onsen, hot spring. The onsen was already occupied by a band of nihonzaru, snow monkeys. Their brown-gray fur was covered with white snow and ice. Their paws were hanging over the edge of the rock pool. Their near human faces watched her coming closer. Their faces were deep red from the cold air.

Aiko reached the safety of the hot water. Her shaking lasted for a long time. Yet in due time, each jostle ran out in the pleasure of warm water relaxing her body. As toasty and cozy as her situation was in the hot water, she was in grave danger. Being naked and wet made her a prisoner of the hot spring surrounded by snow. The nihonzaru make keep a scared distance for now. Yet, monkeys were known to be thieves and daredevils. She lay there on her back. She had found the perfect smooth rock for her naked butt with a stone that let her recline to look up at the sky. The sky had been bright blue on her arrival. She could see white little thingies swirling in the air, probably an illusion or defect of her eye. The blue had turned saturated and dark until it was black. One star had appeared, then two, three, four, and many. She gave up counting once more than a hundred stars had appeared. She released the pee in her bladder into the hot water.

The onsen stirred. An old man appeared. His hair and beard were gray and long. He had a twisted and thick root as a stick. Aiko froze in surprise. A strange man with her naked was bad. Another human being in her dire situation was good. The strange man was wearing rags. Wherever his skin was visible, it was hard, scaled, and had many age dots.

“Aiko, I have waited for you. I am onsen oyasi.”
“No, oyasi are evil deities.”
“Oh, oyasi are misunderstood. Yes, we are powerful. Yet, you must not run little girl.”
“I need to find a way back to my family.”
“No, you must stay with me for your rite of passage. I am the oyasi that is prophesized to instruct you.”
“Dear, kind, friendly, and powerful onsen oyasi, please show me the way home.”
“Aiko, polite little girl, would you like to eat something? Maybe, with food in your stomach, you think more of my valuable lessons.”

Onsen oyasi searched the beneath the snow outside the water. He found a large leave left from fall. He held it up in front of Aiko’s face. The breath of onsen oyasi smelled like an old dying man. His finger nails dented the leaf. They left a mark on the leaf. The mark looked like a banana. He marked a bowl of rice on the next leave. He laughed to himself and marked a chocolate bar on the next. He wrapped each leave inside of its own snowball. Then, he threw the first snowball at the head of a monkey. The monkey was dazed for a second and then jumped in a circle. His tiny hands fingered the leaf out of the water. With an intelligent look in his face, he studied the leaf and ran away.

Onsen oyasi explained that the nihonzaru were servants. If instructed as demonstrated, they would run off to find tourists of the national park. They would trail the tourists up in the tree. Should a tourist show a desired item, the nihonzaru would sweep down from the trees and rip the item from the tourist to bring it back here. The nihonzaru would not return before tomorrow, because they were far away and tourists were mostly available during the day only. However, he assured her that Aiko need not fret, because he had ordered beef yesterday. As he finished his explanation, four monkeys showed up with kobe beef, vegetable, and rice.

They were eating with their bare hands dropping the occasional piece of food in the water. The monkeys were eager to fish any leftovers out of the water. Sometimes, they landed with a splash next to them to grab and dart away the next second. The onsen oyasi implored her to tell her about the changes in society. He loved hearing about the bullet trains. He deplored the diminishing of the Ainu People. Apparently, it had been two or three decades since the last Ainu had reached his hot spring.

Once Aiko’s stomach was full, her eyes started getting drowsy from the long day. She fell asleep into a dark, black, and dreamless sleep. The next morning, she woke up by something intently moving around in her hair. She could feel a bit of hair pulled to the side. She could feel a finger moving over hair stubbles right on the surface of her scalp deep inside her hair. It felt kind of good. So, it took a moment to realize that fingers should not be moving through her hair. She opened her eyes and found a nihonzaru smiling at her with both hands in her hair. The monkey was cleaning her hair as a gesture of affection. She found herself on rocks in the middle of the onsen. The air was warm enough from the water steam. Had she stayed in the water all day, her skin would have shriveled up completely.

She felt strangely tired and weak. Her vagina felt like she had slept with a boy the night before. She explored the area a little bit. However, she quickly grew cold walking naked in the snow. She spent most of the day lethargic in the hot water watching the monkeys. The monkey faces looked strangely like human people. She knew that the nihonzaru resembled human faces. Yet, she thought that she could make out a grand grandma from a faded photograph and another famous historic Ainu man. She watched them lying lazily in the water like her. The little ones were occasionally splashing water on each other until a female sharply bit one of them on the neck to call to order. By noon the three monkeys from last night returned with a banana, rice, and chocolate bar.

She tried the old man’s lesson. She searched for leaves under the snow. Her nails pressed on the leave to mark the outline of an apple. The next leave was marked with more rice. Another one was marked for beef. She put each leave in a snowball as she had been shown. She missed the monkeys a few times. She had to swim over to where the monkey had been. The monkeys would scatter. She had to search for the leave, make another snowball. Finally, she sent the monkeys of with her orders. Waiting was boring. So, she made another leave with something impossible. She drew a car on it. An idea came to her to send another monkey for a cell phone. That way, she could call for help.

By nightfall the onsen oyasi returned. He had a rosy complexion today and walked without his root stick. She told him about the familiar monkey faces. He explained to her that the nihonzaru were servants. Their most important function was to store the kamui of people. They were spirit urns. He summoned the monkey that looked like her grand grandma. He told Aiko to cuddle the monkey in her arms. The monkey nestled against her naked breasts. The monkey’s hand reached to her face. His tiny fingers curled around her nose. She closed her eyes for a moment in reflex to the hands coming close. Immediately a dream came over her.

In the dream, she was walking with her grand grandma on a small trail near the Ainu village. It was the herb trail, because many useful native herbs grew next to it. The grand grandma held her hand. The grandma looked at Aiko: “Oh, dear child, you are in grave danger. You are such a sweet child.” They continued walking together. Aiko felt the human warmth from the rough hand that was holding her. The grand grandma bent down to pick up some fresh herbal leaves from a plant. She pressed the free hand with the leaves against her nose to take a deep inhale. Grand grandma looked at Aiko with deeply blue eyes. The herb was clearing her vision and made her eyes vividly blue. “You must follow his orders. In the end, he will give you everything that you need to escape.” Aiko’s eyes opened and the monkey went scurrying away.

Dinner was quiet. The beef, rice, and a fruit seemed to be the standard faire that was ordered from the monkeys. Over peeling and eating the orange, the onsen oyasi explained that he needed to tattoo Aiko. As part of the rite of passage, he had to paint power symbols on her.

Onsen oyasi sharpened a bamboo stick. The tattooing process would be the traditional horimono way done by hand. The Sharp bamboo stick would pierce her skin and push the color. Aiko lay with her chest stretched over a rock, while her lower body was in the hot onsen water. The onsen oyasi etched a branch along the top of her shoulder blade. From the thick gnarly branch, thin and fluid branches reached down and across her back. The branches were covered with flaming-autumn-red, five-star-fingered leaves. A white bird with elegant, white wings and flowing tail looked interested down to her right buttock. Up her back from her right buttock were two koi fish swimming. One of them rippled the water surface, as he reached out of the water to look at the bird. Half green and half red five-star-fingered leaves were floating on the water surface on her lower right back. It was a scene that might have played at this onsen in fall.

He turned her over. Above her right breast, he etched a palm sized tattoo. It was a bright red lotus flower with orange flower stalks shining out of it. The lower half of the red lotus flower was surrounded by water waves. It seemed to be a power symbol of strength due to the vivid colors and bold lines.

She had fallen asleep before he finished the tattoo. She only got to admire it in the morning. She had found herself on the same rock in the center of the water pools engulfed in the warm stream. The same monkey was grooming and cleaning her hair again. She looked at her tattoo on her breast. Her vagina was very sore this morning. She barely wanted to move. She did not want to move anyway. She felt herself being lethargic, even weak as if she were bed stricken thick.

She lay there doing nothing as her monkey servants returned with all five items. The car order had yielded a small toy car. The cell phone order had brought her a shiny new iPhone. The iPhone was in a cute pink animal case. Unfortunately, there was no connectivity in the mountains. So, she played Tetris until the cell phone battery died. Curiously, a female nihonzaru had managed to show up with another iPhone. Even more curiously, after much chattering to the phone and button pushing, it made the same melodically beeping Tetris sound.

Being bored, she tried to summon one of the monkeys. She focused on the one that reminded her of a famous Ainu on a faded photo. As her grandpa had taught her, she carefully looked at the monkey. He had a fierceness, a gentleness, and a boldness about his face. Aiko attempted to feel, what it felt like to be that fierce, gentle, and bold. She imagined the feeling of being with her family around a familiar dinner table. She extended that warm feeling from the center of her heart out to the famous looking nihonzaru. Her warm energy touched him softly on the fur. It felt good to her to project good energy out.

After a few minutes, the nihonzaru noticed. He slowly moved closer. He cuddled on her bosom. His hand reached for her nose. One finger poked her eye by accident. In reflex Aiko closed her eyes again. Immediately, she found herself behind a large rock looking down at a canyon. The famous Ainu was next to her in person. He carefully looked over the rock down at the canyon.

“We thought that we could surprise the Japanese at this chokepoint. Instead, they killed us all from their helicopters. We had planned to roll large rocks down into the canyon. We could not throw those rocks up at the helicopter. We surrendered with white handkerchiefs flowing in the air. They killed us without mercy. The rocks are still up here. I was the last leader of the rebellion.”

“Come walk with me. There is a glen not too far away from here. Our dead warriors are buried there. They are not warriors. We are not warriors. We have always been tender communicators with the kamui. When we kill a bear, we have a two year ceremony to send of the kamui in the best possible way. We are not killers with machine guns that kill another beautiful man or woman every second. When you return to the Ainu from the onsen, you must tell the elder about this glen. They will know the proper ceremony to bring closure to the massacre of our last stand.”

The famous rebel leader walked her to many holy and memorable sites. When the monkey let go of her nose and she jolted back into reality, the sunlight was already waning. She looked around her. The monkeys were in an excited uproar, yet sitting all by themselves. She had to rub her eyes twice. Many monkeys were new owners of iPhones. The iPhone cases were fascinating. There were plain shiny blue ones. There were cases with pop drawings. Another case was a luxurious, smooth, and highly polished wood box. The sound of Tetris was clearly recognizable. Had they all learned to start the download, start, and play the Tetris application?

The onsen oyasi came roaring out of the water. The grayness of his hair was completely gone. He stood there like a firm and trim grand pa. His voice was clear and harmonious: “You fool! Don’t you know about the one hundredth monkey effect? When the hundredth monkey learns to play Tetris, all the monkeys on all the islands will know how to play Tetris. You have to be careful, what you teach these monkeys. These monkeys have human kamui inside of them. They are a lot smarter than the regular nihonzaru. Yet, they still affect the other nihonzaru with the one hundredth monkey effect!” As an editor side note, scientists were baffled that year by the vehemence of iPhone theft by monkeys and their addicted focus to play Tetris until the battery died. Rumors whisper that the top high score is now held by a nihonzaru.

The onsen oyasi calmed down. He remembered when he spent a lonely winter crocheting hats. The monkeys watched him of course carefully. It only took them a week to learn crochet. Once they had made a hat, they would run down the mountains to the national park tourists. They would pull the crochet hat over the tourists head. They made sure to pull the hat over the eyes. Some tourists would simply freeze. Yet, other tourists would start running and inevitable ran into a tree. The tree would knock them on their butt. The sound of that was memorable ‘tock – thump.’ Then, the monkeys would jump summersaults in joy. When there was a group of monkeys with crochet hats on the trees, the ‘tock – thump’ sounds would start soon. Oh, those mischievous nihonzaru!

Over dinner of rice, vegetables, and chicken, the onsen oyasi explained that Aiko was a girl. Now she was to be a woman. To finish her transformation, she needed to be introduced into sexuality. Those young boys did not know how to properly have intercourse and would hurt her. Thus, the experience would be bad. Aiko tensely interjected that she already had had sex with a couple boys. The onsen oyasi discounted that, because it was not with someone from the Ainu people.

He pulled his penis out from. The penis of an old man stood oddly out. Old men don’t hold penises in their hands. He told her about the love of her family, when she would be reunited. He told her that this was a crucial part of her rite of passage. He fondled her breast. He kissed her lips. The old man grabbed his penis and pushed it into her belly. She gasped, because her vagina was so raw from the last days. She begged him to put it in her ass instead. She begged him to use a condom. He was horny. The strong old mans body held her tight and humped her. He grunted. She felt a little arousal as well and pushed her pelvis bone against him. She drooled on the old skin of his shoulder.

The old man called out grunts like he was nearing orgasm. His touch grew softer. His penis became more comfortable. Her lubrication must have kicked in. His body weight on top of her became lighter. His face became hazy and unclear. Now, she barely felt the penis. His head seemed transparent with the night sky’s stars shining through it. The onsen oyasi was only a smoke and finally blended with the vapor of the hotspring. Aiko had one hard orgasm that triggered the next. She fell asleep exhausted.

The next morning, she woke up early. The water had uncomfortably soaked her skin. Yet, she felt strong and invigorated. She was not in the usual spot on the rock island in the middle of the onsen. She was in the same place, where she had been fucked the night before. The monkeys were already holding her breakfast. Today, they had brought a pack for military MRE – Meal Ready to Eat. She warmed the aluminum wrapped dried food with water from the onsen.

The vigor that she felt motivated her to finally seek freedom. The solution was so clear now. She summoned another monkey to ask him questions. A fury old looking fellow seemed the best bet. He swam to her. He cuddled in her bosom. This one stuck one finger each up her nostril. The two skinny fingers felt surprising, violating, and refreshing at the same time.

“The onsen oyasi captured part of my kamui. He stored it in this monkey. The elder believe, when a person dies, the kamui should be free to go, where it wants. The onsen oyasi believes that he must save the Ainu people. He tries to save us by taking part of our kamui and storing it in the nihonzaru.”

“You are feeling weak, because the onsen oyasi takes part of your kamui and your youth. Your genital hurt, because he forced intercourse on your every night. When your vaginal lubrication pumps, his penis sucks it into him. That’s how he steals part of the kamui and youth. Did you notice how he was more youthful after every night?”

“During the day, he is weak and in a coma. This is the only time that you can escape the powerful deity. The snow and cold temperature around here is bound by a mystical spell. Walk for an hour down the slope and you will be back in summery air. You must walk swiftly, because an hour naked, wet in the cold can kill you. Send a monkey for something. Watch the direction carefully and follow that direction.”

The monkey let go of her nose and disappeared into the pack. She got another leaf. She etched on it a book with her finger nail. She wrapped it in a snow ball. She hit a monkey on the head with it. Her strength was so intense today that she knocked the monkey over. The monkey ran. She stood up out of the water. Her warm nostrils blew smoke into the air. Water vapor was rising up from all over her naked youthful body. She felt her muscles strong, like they had grown larger after a hard workout at the gym. She ran after the monkey. Her feet were strong. Her boobs bounced with each step. The snow was cold on her feet, yet her blood was hotter.

An hour later, the snow had vanished. The trees were green again. Birds were singing. The warm summer sun felt good on her skin. She meandered through the trees towards the lower elevation. She would surely cross a road. She found the family at the clearing. They quickly gave her the dress, panties, bra, and shoes back. They had camped here waiting for her return. The whole story with the onsen oyasi seemed but a dream of native plant hallucinogens. However, a nihonzaru appeared and gave her a book, a field guide about native plants.

From that day on, Aiko’s college days were ordinary. She messed up some tests. She was the best in class for one thing. She took up fencing and swimming as extracurricular activities. She flirted with boys. She snickered about them with her girl friends. She bought little knick knacks with her first own money from a college cafeteria job.

About three years into college, her friends decided to dress in their old high school uniforms for memory’s sake. She wore shiny leather heels. The socks rolled up over her knees. The school uniform skirt went to her mid thigh. She wore a white blouse. The second button from the top, the dai-ni button, was missing. She had exchanged the button with her high school sweetheart. It is the button closest to the heart. The patch of her school was on the left chest side. On the other side was a red ribbon. The end of the ribbon had a symbol. It was a circle with a wavy line going across it. There were two wave peaks. It was an old gypsy sign that told the mistress of this house is horny and shameless. Her girl friends had given her major props for being so daring and knowledgeable about European legends.

So dressed, she was on her way home from college. She was standing in a crowded Tokyo rush hour subway car. Her hand was held up high on the horizontal pole. People were sullenly swaying with the uneven tracks of the train. Looking closer, some high school kids were excited about a new technical gizmo. A couple in the corner was making out. An old lady with gray clothes gave a man the evil eye for bumping her earlier.

A male hand caressed Aiko’s butt for a moment. She did not like the groping on the train. Yet, she ignored it. As Aiko sunk into her own thoughts again, the hand grew bold and pinched her butt cheeks. She tried to move away. Yet, the train was too crowded. People gave her evil looks, when she tried to squeeze in between them. The train wheels vibrated on the tracks. The inside lights lighted up pipes, walls, and graffiti on the subway walls. Aiko was aware and anticipating the next grope. The hand pinched her butt again and a young man’s voice said: “You are pretty. Do you want to be my girlfriend?” She shrugged no, tilting her head to the side and squinting her eyes.

The young man behind her dropped his hand on her shoulder intending to leave it there. Aiko wiggled her body free of the hand. The male voice laughed: “Oh, you are like a wild stallion that wants to be tamed first.” The train door opened at the next station. She tried to get out of the train. The young man’s hand quickly felt for her bra strap on her back and held her with it. She wouldn’t have made it out anyway. Too many people were pushing into the overcrowded subway car. The next station would be three minutes out. Three long minutes with that man.

The young man was very aware of the time and her helplessness as well. His fingers pushed the skirt between her buttocks. He pinched her between the legs. “Oh, very good pussy. You should be proud!” He pushed his erect penis against her skirt from behind. She felt the firm bulge. His hand reached around her body and grabbed her boob. He found the missing dai-ni button and reached inside of her white blouse His fingers felt over the edge of her bra. His fingers fingered under it and pinched her nipple. “You are my girl friend now. What is your name?” “Aiko. No. Stop.”

The young man stood two inches back from her. She felt relieved about the erect penis disappearing from her behind. Now, he lifted up her skirt. Her butt was exposed. Not many people would see it. Two young guys were laughing raucously. A business man in a suit ogled her without moving his head with the eyes peering down. She struggled with both hands behind her to push her skirt down. The next subway corner unsteadied her high heeled feet and she leaned back onto the young man’s body. She felt his erection, the clean, luxurious suit, and his strong muscles. “Ah, now you are ready to hug me. You should keep your arms up on the pole to steady yourself.”

His hands guided her hands back to the top vertical pole. His large hands held both of her wrists there. His free hand unbuttoned her blouse. Her bra was showing partially. The neatly tucked in blouse did not fall open completely. She struggled and wined. The other passengers mostly ignored her not wanting any trouble. He flipped one of her boobs out of the cup of the bra. Anyone looking at her from the right side and ankle could now see her naked boob and nipple. “You like that, you slut, don’t you? You dream of showing your hot young body to people.” In secrecy, she was a shy girl and had dreamed about being naked and exposed to people. It had turned her on as she masturbated quietly at night to avoid waking her roommate. Yet, the actuality of the situation was so unwanted and uncomfortable. She winded and wiggled.

The subway entered the next station. The man looking into the window as the train came to a stop saw her with her unbuttoned blouse and one nipple showing through the blouse. The other nipple was still covered by a bra. The throng of people pushed into the car, yet nobody could enter the full subway car. The doors closed. The man whispered into her ear: “Three stops that makes us a married couple. I should see your goods as husband.”

He still had both her arms pinned to the horizontal pole above. His free hand reached under her skirt. It reached around the top elastic of her panties. He pulled them down under her butt. He could not stretch his hand further down. So, he lifted his foot to reach between her legs. The soles of his leather shoes pushed down her panty to her knee. The dirty soles of his shoe had touched the pavement, where people had spat, homeless had peed, and dogs had taken a shit. Aiko shuddered at the idea of having to pull the desecrated panties up against her most intimate, when this would be over. She felt so humiliated with the panties low and twisted, her boobs showing, among all these important and neatly dressed business man. The young man enjoyed watching the subtle reactions from the bystanders. Nobody dared to look openly or show a reaction. Yet, a woman clearly showed her disgust and assumption that Aiko were a fetish prostitute indulging her client. The woman did not like the young girls, who could make a lot of money simply for having a youthful and spunky appearance.

They stood quietly for a minute or so. She could feel her red face. The man could feel his horny feelings circulating through his body. As the subway left the station, he let go of her hands. He reached for her shoulder. He pushed her down. When he pushed his knee into the back of her knee, her legs gave out from under her. She was no in the netherworld of a subway car. The world looked so foreign. She looked at a forest of legs and bags dangling down from hands. She tried to get up. The young man’s hands pushed her down. She tried to crawl away. Yet, the business man pushed her bag with his leather suit case. He did not want to be part of it. Across the aisle was a young woman sitting in a jeans mini skirt. She could see her turquoise panties from this low vantage point.

The young man opened his zipper and whipped out his erect penis. The red head and smooth shaft was right in front of her face. He pressed the penis against her eye. Then, he whipped the smooth skin of her cheek with it. He tried to push his penis into her mouth. Yet, she puckered and pressed her lips together. He managed to push his penis a little in between her wet lips. Yet, the smooth teeth provided the final barricade. He rubbed his penis a bit back and force: “Ah, you like brushing your teeth, don’t you?” The penis strangely made her think of sex. She pushed away any arousal.

The next station, the business man with the leather brief case next to her left the subway. She followed the momentarily gap outside. She waddled in short strides with her panties at her knees and her high heels. During the push out, her blouse became untucked. Her one breast fell into public view. Outside the train, she reached between her knees to pull up the panties to move faster. She pushed through the people in a straight line to get away.

She walked into a pedestrian tunnel. The tunnel was empty of people. A yellow paper notice suggested that the particular track was closed for renovation. She turned around to see the young man following her. She kept moving forward. Her high heels echoed like the sound of horse shoes through the empty pedestrian tunnel. The man’s foot steps were a baritone thumping. The old fluorescent lamps turned everything into a pale color. The tiles on the floor had dirty black fillings in between. The end of the tunnel had a black wrought iron gate with a dark subway platform behind it. The gate was locked.

A man’s bathroom door was nearby. She went inside. The mirror had a split running across it. The balls of used paper hand towels flowed over the trash receptacle onto the floor. Empty paper toilet rolls and discarded toilet seat hygiene covers were left on the floor. The urinals have semi-circular piss stains on the floor. She ran into the nearest stall. The metal door shut with a click behind her that made all other doors shudder as well. The lock had been removed.

She stood frozen in the filthy stall. The young man opened the stall door: “Oh, what a taste for a honey moon suite you have!” He pulled her out of the narrow stall. He grabbed her neck with one hand and throat with the other. He put his leg behind her. He pulled her back on the throat. She fell over his neck backwards. He softly guided her to the floor. She was lying with her clean clothes on this bathroom abandoned by subway riders and the janitorial cleaning. He pressed his lips on her closed mouth. Her head wiggled left and right to escape the pressure of his jaw. Eventually, he got her pinned.

She felt a strong urge against this young man. The tattoo on her back and over her breast started burning strong. Her muscles tensed. Her mind tightened to shut everything out to focus on the task of pushing him back with all her strength. She lost track of time to how strong she was pressing. Her whole body was pressing against his reviled body. She half noticed that she was pressing his body against the ceiling. She was too focused on putting all her will into pushing him hard against it to think much about what happened. Every exhale that he took gave her the chance to push him a little tighter against the ceiling. He could not inhale. He could only give little exhales until his longs were completely empty and he fainted.

As the young man’s struggle stopped, Aiko’s senses came back. She realized that she was floating in the air. When she noted the impossibility of floating in the air, she fell down hard on the floor butt first. The lifeless body of the young man was on top of her. She looked at her breast tattoo from the onsen oyasi. It was brighter and more vivid. The symbols had more detail now.

Her hair was tussled. She straightened out her blouse and hair in front of the mirror. Now that she was safe, she felt the nastiness of the place. It weirdly turned her on. She thought about her wet good night fantasies of someone taking her beyond her will to experience wild sexual pleasures. She was oddly turned on and felt her panties getting wet.

She turned to the man, who slowly came to his senses. His eyes were blinking around. He said that he was sorry. She stepped her high heels left and right of his head. He looked up under her skirt. “Do you like this?” The young man smiled nervously. She squatted down balancing on her high heels to present her bottom to the young man’s face: “Eat!” The young man gingerly pulled the panty to the side. He licked across her vulva. His tongue slid in between her vulva.

The wet touch of his tongue felt good, yet did nothing to diminish Aiko’s wild urge. She stood up. The young man had become sullen, happy, and cozy tasting her juices. She walked around and told him to pull down his pants and drawers. He was now lying on his back with his pants and drawers bunched around his ankles. She stepped one of her high heels between his legs. The balls of the shoes lightly stepped onto his sack of balls. The skin spread out under toes like a dough ball pressed into a pizza. “Who is in charge?” “You are Aiko.” “Then, I will use your penis to fuck myself.”

Aiko kneeled on the floor and inserted the penis into her vagina. She was riding the penis hard. She went up all the way on it and fell down bumping her buttocks against his pelvis. The fire inside her burned even harder. When he came inside of her, she felt inside of her a muscle in spasms and convulsions. She felt a bit eased of her urges not by her orgasm, but by his. She got up. Strangely, she did not feel any cum oozing out of her. The young man looked ten years older. She felt invigorated and fresh. She left him sprawled out. She pulled her panties in place.

She reached her hand out to push the door open. She felt the resistance of the door, because the door was meant to open to the inside. The next moment, the door fell outside. For whatever strange reason, she had blown the door out of its sockets. She did not dwell on it much. Her body felt good and strong. Plus, she had the urge to sleep with another young man. Her pussy felt like a wide open mouth filled with ravenous hunger.

She walked through the busy station with its many little stands for candy, drinks, snacks, and books. She walked in a straight line to the exit stairway. She bumped into people. Strangely, people were falling off her like dead flies. She felt so strong and energized. A large security man had seen her walk like that. He smiled big as he braised himself for the impact of her shoulder. She felt so strong and daredevil that she did not hesitate for a moment. His body flung back. He half circled himself and grabbed on two passersby to regain his balance.

Outside the station, night had already fallen. She waved for a taxi. The middle aged man looked strangely erotic to her. He dropped her off at a night club. She walked past the long line of dressed up people. Girls had mini skirts. Boys had suits. The bouncer in black dress put his spread out hand in front of her to stop her from unlocking the velvet rope: “Miss, first you are cutting in line and second you are not dressed sophisticated enough. Please, go.” Aiko was mad. Madness dashed across her reddening face. Her mind was filled with anger firing at the bouncer. The bouncer started stumbling backwards as if an invisible hand were pushing him.

She unclipped the velvet rope maintaining her anger singularly focused on the bouncer. The bouncer walked backwards through the entrance curtain. She followed him. His face was visibly shaken in terror as he could not stop himself from moving back. He fell over a stair onto his back. His arms were waving at her to let go. She stepped to his head. She held her white high heels into his face: “Lick, you dog.” As the bouncer eagerly licked the soles and surface of her boot, the anger in her began to subside.

Her gaze turned to the club. It was filled with colorful lights. The mirror behind the bar reflected the lights and refracted the colors through the multi colored liquor bottles. Girls were dressed smart and sexy. They were dancing on platforms and tables. Guys were dressed smooth in suits and holding drinks. On the near side was an area with half circular leather booths. On the far side was the dance floor with pumping music.

Ordinarily, shy Aiko would have stayed with her girl friends. Tonight, she was full of life like a group of playful dolphins were teaming in her body. She leaned forward over the back of a booth. Her fingers glided through the spiky black hair of the young man sitting there. The five scantily clad girls in his booth immediately starred at her. The young man slowly turned around to face her with a warm smile. She asked him, “are you a good kisser? I just broke up with my boy friend and he wasn’t.” The young man’s smile widened: “Akeno, pleased to meet you.” “Aiko,” and she launched forward to kiss him on the lips. Her tongue darted between his lips. They quickly kissed each other wide mouthed. Her hands were caressing his dandy body. Yes, he had nice muscles.

“Let’s dance,” and Aiko lifted Akeno effortlessly over the backrest. Her body had been so strong since the bathroom incident. The girls followed them and circled around them as Aiko and Akeno were dancing. Aiko squatted in front of Akeno, so that her head was in front of her pant zipper. She slowly stood up while gliding her hands up on his body. Akeno smiled. He stepped his thigh in between her legs. She held onto his arm, while leaning back and riding his leg. Her free arm was swirling in the air like a cowgirl. Her vulva touched his thigh. She stepped in front of him and reached inside his pants. Her hands wrapped around his penis to ensure that it was hard. Holding onto it, she walked him to the back exit of the club. He followed like a lamb lead by his staff.

The club was in a dilapidated industrial part of town. The back alley pavement had holes and long fissures. The other side of the alley had a mesh fence with barbed wire on top and rusted holes beneath. She walked him still holding his penis in his pants into a darker alley. Akeno complimented her on her dress, body, and bold spirit. Behind a green dented dumpster leaning against the white paint of a electrical parts store, she unbuttoned his pants. She kneeled to wet his penis by sucking on it. Akeno leaned back with his hands folded behind his neck. She spat a white wad of saliva on it rubbing her closed fist a couple times back and forth on his dick. She looked up at him with big eyes. He was ready.

She lifted her skirt and guided his penis inside of her. It filled her well. She felt a little piece from the burning desire that had driven all of her actions. He grinded hard inside of her with his hands wrapped around her cute, tight ass. They were kissing passionately. She had always dreamed to claim the stud of a club. She wanted to feel him from behind. She kneeled on the gutter with her high heels spreading to the side. He was kneeling behind her. His hands were pulling her hips against his pelvis as he thrusted forward. Her hands were on the rough and half wet pavement. His mouth had a loop of her panty dangling out. She had stuffed her panties there to keep them safe from the filthy environment. It had made him only harder.

He came hard in her. His whole body clenched around hers. She felt the penis pumping sperm inside of her. She felt the same spasm and convulsion from earlier. Every semen squirt inside of her made her feel more radiant and strong. The good feeling lasted only for a moment. Then, she knew that she needed more. She needed much more. Akeno was wheezing behind her. He fell to the ground. His asthma was acting up. He looked ten years older. Despite her good upbringing, she was more eager for another man then being a Samaritan. She told him to call the emergency number on his cell phone, if it got really bad. She plugged her saliva wetted panties from his hand and put them on. Oddly, there was no cum oozing out of her even they had not used a condom.

The entrance line for the club wrapped around the whole building block now. The bouncer spotted her and immediately kneeled with his hands folded begging for mercy. She told him that there was only one way to receive mercy: “Put your butt high and kiss the floor in front of me.” The bouncer obliged. He kneeled. He raised his butt. He kissed the dirty floor of discarded chewing gums and spilled drinks. She carefully waited for him to make the floor sacred before making the next step.

The club was wilder and more sexual now that people had been lubed up. Cocaine was probably powdering the air as well. Aiko went to the dance floor. She fancied a Scottish man in a kilt. He was wearing knee high boots and a knee long kilt of heavy woven checkered pattern. He had a purple shirt on. His hair was blonde. He looked muscular. The short chatter over the music between the dancing explained that he was an elite British navy soldier on a joint training exercise in Japan. His name was Scotty.

Aiko hugged Scotty. Her hand ran up his kilt and in between his butt cheek. Lesson number one was that true Scottish men do not wear underwear. Lesson number two was that the British navy produces firm muscular butts. Aiko reached lower to play with his balls middle on the dance floor. They were in public in the midst of dancing people. She was holding his naked balls. He smirked with pleasure. She reached her hand in between them through the waste band of Scotty’s kilt. She grabbed his hard cock: “Soldier, we have to hide your weapon from the police raid or you will go to prison.” She lifted her skirt and guided his penis into her vagina. Western guys’ penises are so much fuller. Her pussy was happy. He grabbed her legs. He lifted her knees up in his arm pit, so that her butt was hanging down onto his penis. She held onto his neck. Her knees were now like the joint of a swing. Her butt was the seat that was swinging back and force onto his penis. Kilts and skirts are so useful.

She was very wet. He was very hard. She looked at guys’ and girls’ faces around her as warm lust and good feelings were filling her. Scotty’s dick was pounding up to her cervix. She screamed and moaned loud. Barely anyone heard her fucking loudly to the music. People brushed against her body as they were dancing around her. They all became part of her sex act. Scotty shuddered and roared the timber scream of a true Highlander as he came inside of her. The spasm and convulsions deep inside her pussy seemed to eager suck up the sperm. Her pussy was dry again with no cum dripping out of her. How strange! Scotty looked like he had aged. He was out of breath and tired from the dancing.

Scotty needed a breather and to sit down. She was bored. She felt stronger and more awake then before. She stepped out of the club. The morning sun was coming up. She started feeling drowsy. All the activity and events seemed to catch up to her. Her steps became wobbly. People cheered her for having had a drink too much. One knee went softer then before. She stumbled to the floor. The last thing that she remembered was hitting the sidewalk with her head.

When her eyes opened again, she was in a hospital bed. The sheets were white. The light was stark bright and white. She was in a hospital gown, one of those sheets that only cover your front and are wide open behind. Everything around her was functional. The black night was outside. The door to her room was open. A side door lead probably to her bathroom. She felt young and strong again. A young man in police uniform was sitting on an upholstered plastic chair on her bed side. Strangely, he had a samurai sword instead of a gun holster.

“I am Ranmaru Shindo with the special police investigation unit Tokko. Tell me everything about last night. We detected supernatural activity in the area.”

“Ranmaru, I was dancing at the club. See!” Aiko got out of bed. Her bare feet were slightly moist and sticking to the clean, smooth linoleum floor. She twisted her hips. Ranmaru waved his hands for her to stop. Her little hands grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the chair. He uncomfortable did a few side steps before he stopped: “No, miss, I have to ask you questions, so that I can stop the supernatural demons.”

“Oh, Ranmaru, I cannot think, because I have slept so long and need to pee badly. I am afraid the demons are in the bathroom. You must come with me to protect me.” She pulled Ranmaru into the small bathroom. He half confused mustered the clear decision to refuse. With the door closed behind them, she sat down on the toilet and hissed her piss into it. Ranmaru had turned to face the door in embarrassment and prude behavior. Aiko intentionally dropped the toilet roll behind the toilet. She weakly tried to reach it and asked Ranmaru for help. On the third request, he finally turned around to investigate. He got on his knees in front of the toilet. The toilet was backed into a corner. A closet next to it made it hard to reach. Ranmaru reached his arm further and further back trying to get the toilet roll. Hi face came forward. Aiko cheered him on until his nose was pressed on the side of her hip. He was relieved, when he handed her the toilet roll.

Without a word Aiko stood up and let her hospital gown drop to the floor. She stood there stark naked with her plumb thigh and lush boobs. The face in the mirror looked back at her youthful. She looked like she was three years younger, like on her eighteen’s birthday. “Ranmaru, will you protect me from the demons, while I take a shower?” Ranmaru reached for the door handle. “Oh, no I am naked, keep the door closed, or someone will see me.” Ranmaru froze for a moment and turned around. Aiko had stepped into the shower and was holding the plastic shower head. She sprayed the water on Ranmaru’s crotch: “Oh, looks like you peed yourself. You better dry that off, before you bring disgrace to your police unit.”

Aiko wetted and soaped her whole body in the shower with drawn open curtains. Ranmaru was busy turning his back and rubbing his pants with paper towels. Aiko wanted to seduce him so badly, because she felt the burning lust inside of her again. So, she tried once more: “Inspector Shindo, I think that I may have been drugged last night and violated in the ass. Could you check for physical signs?” She stepped her butt towards him. She put his hands on her butt cheeks: “You have to pull them apart to check my asshole for violation.” The embarrassed Ranmaru spread her wet butt cheeks and looked at her brown anus. “Does it look pretty? Should I get anal bleaching?” The suggestive images flashed across Ranmaru’s mind, as he finally grew hard wood in his pants. She turned around: “Oh you little perv, you have an erection. Let mama see it.”

As boys tend to get clumsy with an unwanted erection, his defense was weak. He knocked more things of the sink then managed to get Aiko away. Aiko opened his pant zipper. She got the wonderful eel out and started sucking on it. Ranmaru felt so good, yet his mind knew that he had to stop it. He made a deal with himself that he would enjoy for another second and then stop her. The deal turned into waiting for foot steps of discovery before stopping her. By the time that Aiko got up and put his penis inside of her vagina, he had completely surrendered to his last. Her wet naked body was pressing against his police uniform. He started pushing his penis inside her belly and kissing her wildly, as he was leaning against the door of the small bathroom. With one last thrust, he came against her. His pelvis pushed against hers to the point of pain. Yet, he pushed it tight until the last ebb of ecstasy had flowed out of him. The same spasm and convulsion inside of her sucked up his sperm. Ranmaru’s face looked gray. He grew weak and dropped to the floor. Aiko felt strong like a warrior ready to run through the hospital hallways screaming a war chant. She let his body drop to the floor. Ranmaru closed his eyes in exhaustion.

She slipped back into her hospital gown that left her backside revealed down to the coin sot of her butt cheeks. The hospital was quiet in the night. The patients were sleeping. The night nurse was busy typing away on her computer in the airport tower like nurse office with the glass panels all around. The square label next to a door said, ‘531 locker room.’ The door was locked. Yet, her tug had been so powerful that the door lock broke. Aiko slung swiftly in the darkened room. She found the light switch. The light illuminated the skinny lockers. She rifled through the clothes undecided, which doctor’s or nurses clothes to steal. She found a female Halloween suit, a naughty nurse uniform: a short white mini skirt with a red cross, a blouse that was too tight and revealing, a red pushup bra to make her boobs bulge out of the revealing décolleté, glassy stripper high heels, and a little white thing with a red cross for her hair. She put a real doctor’s ID card. She was now doctor Asuka.

Thus, sexily clad, she walked down the hallway. She found exam rooms. The first three were empty. The fourth had a young man. She turned on the busy light outside the room to avoid interruption. The young man was immediately uncomfortable by her forward sexual dress. He sat there with his hands in his lap on the exam table.

“What is your name?”
“Akihito”
“What is your age?”
“18”
“What is your complaint?”
“I cannot sleep doctor.”
“Well, we want to be thorough and do a full panel of exams to rule out even exotic diseases. Take off your clothes.”

Akihito stood in front of her with his sport briefs on. Aiko insisted that he take them off as well. She put on blue nitrile exam gloves. She felt his chest. She fingered his teeth inside of his mouth. She felt under his tongue. She pushed around his belly and asked him for tenderness. She squatted down and reached for his penis. She carefully squeezed along the whole shaft. Akihito turned his face to the side for prudence and embarrassment. She forced him to look at his penis by pointing on a spot and asking, if that ever itched him. She knew that he had to look down at her face. Her lips were on purpose only inches away from his penis. He must have seen his penis hovering over her cleavage that was exposed from the top. She made sure to spit a little bit, while she spoke. There was a little bubble of spit on his penis head: “Oh, I am so sorry, I spit on your penis by accident.” She wiped the spit from his penis. The young boy’s face showed a lot of torment and a strong desire to leave the room. “Lucky for you, you have a good healthy penis.” She let go of his penis and stood up.

“Please, turn around and bend forward onto the exam table for the rectal exam.” Akihito turned around slowly and bent forward. Aiko spread his butt cheeks apart: “This will be a little bit cold.” She rammed a metal pen from the side table into his anus. Akihito jumped forward and clenched both hands around the green edge of the exam table. “Oh, I don’t like this. You may have a rare hereditary, genital disease.” She pulled the metal pen out of his ass and threw it into the medical trash container.

“We have to do an ultra sound of your penis.” “Oh, my god, is it bad?” Akihito was sweating and blushing. “Let’s first find out the facts.” Aiko found a large plastic tube with gel on the medical table. She squirted a big dollop onto her hand. Then, she started rubbing the gel on Akihito’s penis. She pumped his penis back and force. His penis hardened a bit. “I am sorry. I am sorry.” “Do you always get hard with a doctor?” “No, no, no!” “Actually, we need it hard to see good picture on the ultra sound.” She put her pinky, the only finger without gel, into her bra and pushed it down. Her boob and tingling nipple popped out. “This should help you, kiddo.” She kept pumping his penis until it stood erect on its own.

She pulled the mobile ultrasound machine out of the corner. The head of the ultra sound ran up and down his penis. Poor Akihito was melting with embarrassment. Aiko popped her boob back into the push up bra. “I have to consult with a colleague. Stay here.” She left out of the door. She left the door wide open on purpose to expose the naked and erect Akihito to any possible person wandering by. After Akihito closed the door on his own, she returned, because the fun was spoiled.

“Akihito, there is very good news. Your prostate is overfilled with semen and needs to be released. The semen has gone bad and was poisoning your body. We have to release that semen. Now, you are glad that I am a young woman and not an old practitioner or even worse a man.” She opened her white coat and dropped her skirt. She stood there naked with the glass stripper high heels, her push up bra, and the white clothes with the red cross in her head. “Okay, put it in already before I change my mind and have a male nurse empty your prostate gland. Akihito lurched forward. He put his penis in and started humping her wild. The vision of getting violated by a male doctor made him hump her feverishly like a dog in heat. Aiko loved the young body and young exuberance. She was dripping wet from the mental foreplay of anguishing Akihito.

Akihito deposited a huge load of cum inside of her. The spasm and convulsions churned to suck up his cum. She felt strong and boisterous. Akihito looked like a thirty year old man as he pushed himself on the exam table to rest. Aiko put on her clothes neatly. She kissed Akihito’s penis: “You are sweet. You can’t imagine on how many people, we had to practice on during medical school. The nurse will be back to finish the second round of extraction.”

Outside the room, the real female doctor was patiently waiting. Aiko assured the doctor that Akihito was ready and prepared. As Aiko walked away, she heard the female doctor squealing. A metal plate fell to the floor. Akihito was pleading to the doctor to empty his prostate to save his life. Aiko smiled and giggled walking away with the newly found pep in the gate of her clear plastic stripper shoes. The burning desire to collect more cum inside of her drove her on to find another male.

She pushed the double door open to radiology. Radiology was often working 24 hours to utilize the machinery to the best. A door with a green square label ‘MRI,’ seemed like a good choice. She entered the changing room. A wooden bench was there. A man’s pants and shirt were hanging on a hook at the wall. This was a good sign. The pants were designer jeans with bleaching and holes cut into them. That promised young bait.

The two young doctors looking through the glass panel from the control room into the MRI room were immediately waving her to get out. She walked up to the glass panel decisively. She opened her coat, pushed the bra down, and pushed her boobs against the glass, so that they flattened. She could feel the cold glass. The young medical doctors were laughing. One of them tried licking her flat pressed boobies and nipples through the glass. He left a line of saliva on the glass. Behind her the MRI machine was humming, knocking, and screeching. Through the noise, the sound of a young man counting ‘147-148-149’ gave a constant metronome. To get into an MRI machine, one is moved into a narrow tube. It can be quite claustrophobic.

Aiko turned around. She put her upper body into the MRI tube. She wiggled her butt at the young doctors, fully knowing that the hem line had slipped high and was showing her panties. The young doctors were over themselves in joy, clapping their thighs and high fiving each other. They announced over the speakers, “Mr Shinto, the nurse is coming to administer a sedative. Please, do not move at all to avoid disrupting the MRI. Let her perform her actions without help.”

Aiko glided into the narrow MRI tunnel. The sounds were intense of the machine banging magnets. The MRI tunnel was so narrow that she had to slide up on the body of patient X. He was only wearing the flimsy hospital gown that covered his front and socks. Aiko’s head moved up between his thighs. She knew where the penis and balls were still hanging down. As her chest glided up on the belly of patient X, it pulled his hospital gown along with him. His balls and penis were now starkly exposed. All pretense of not being naked under the thin gown were shattered. Aiko reminded patient X to not move to cover himself to avoid disrupting the X-Ray.

She told him that she had his pill in his mouth. Unfortunately, the MRI tube was so narrow that she could not bend her arms enough. So, he had to take it out of his mouth. After she begged him not to expose her shortcoming in handling the MRI tube, because she was new, he kissed her. His tongue expected the pill. She told him that the pill was glued to the roof of her mouth. He had to help with his tongue to get it out. He put his tongue in her mouth. He was eagerly searching for the pill that was not there. He was eager to find the pill. She was passionately making out with him. It took not long for the anxiety of the narrow space, her young boobs on his chest, and the erotic kissing to induce his penis to move up. Aiko coyly chasted patient X for taking opportunity of her being new to the job and the unusual circumstances.

She tried to glide out of the tube. She ensured that his penis slipped into her vagina: “Oh, I am stuck. Please, do not move mister. My boss cannot find out about my ineptitude. I will free myself.” She moved a little bit up and moaned, “Oh your evil poker is out of me.” She moved back down and had the penis slide back in her: “Oh, no, you are taking advantage of me. Please, tell nobody about my misfortune mishap.” She moved back to let the penis flop out. She moved back down, guiding the penis back into her. This time, she tried pushing hard. When his body started slipping, she exclaimed, “Oh, I moved you, the MRI might be disturbed.” She paused for a moment with his penis inside her wet pussy: “Mister, the MRI tube is too narrow for me to lift my pelvis over your penis. The only way out is to make your penis flaccid. Taking that my body on top of yours turns you on that much, this won’t happen before the end of the MRI exam. Thus, to avoid detection by the doctors, we have to make you come.” Thus, Aiko started bumping uglies with patient X inside the MRI. The young doctor’s in the control room were watching a new kind of porn: MRI imaging of penetration.

The spasms inside of her cervix sucked up the come again. Aiko felt strengthened by it. Patient X aged a few years. Aiko slid out of the MRI. She made sure to cover him and kiss his penis good bye. She waved the young doctors good bye. The radiology department was near the exit. Aiko walked out into the fresh air. The dawn was gently raising sunlight across the hospital buildings. Aiko fainted again and fell to the floor.

Her eyes opened again the next night. Ranmaru was sitting at her bedside, holding her hand tenderly. His eyes looked worried. Today, he did not wear his police uniform. Instead, he wore black leather pants and a black leather jacket that was left open to expose his bare torso and belly. The shadows of his muscles looked delicious. The moment that Aiko raised her head, he reached for her neck with syringe needle and drugged her. She looked at him groggy.

“Aiko, I love you dearly. That is why I made a mistake last night. You have demon residue on you. I will take you to a special Japanese bathhouse. It is run by a spiritual yakuza gang. They have a special cleaning treatment that will remove the demon residue from you. You will be normal again.”

Ranmaru had brought an elegant nightgown and suave shoes for her. The lingerie was tasteful and erotic. He did have feelings for her clearly. They walked out of the hospitals with their arms intertwined. Aiko was leaning hard on him, because everything around her was weak and hazy. The night had an eerie stillness about it. Only few cars drove through the night. The streetlights were shining on her lap in a rhythmic pattern as they passed them. The ground reflected the light, because it was wet from recent rain.

The bathhouse was ancient. There were many lion and dragon statues. The pillars were marbled with marble veins running through them. The high ceiling was lighted by indirect lighting. Opposite the wide entrance doors was a man behind a high counter. The high pedestal was so that he could look over the wall behind him. Behind him were two areas, one for man and one for women. He was the bath master. He sat there. He had a white feeling stick of the blind in his hands. He was dressed in black with a high hat. As people walked up to him, he pointed at the women to take the left door and men to take the right door. Ranmaru explained that the spiritual sage was blind, yet could tell the gender by energy.

The sage man faced Ranmaru and pointed at the right door for him to disappear behind the curtain. He faced Aiko and sent her to the right door as well. Aiko giggled that the oh so wise sage man was fooled. The sage man paused as he heard the giggling. He stood up and ordered the bathhouse to be closed. A bulky man in a suit had been standing behind a pillar. He had yakuza tattoos colorfully running up his neck and over his face. His suit was impeccable with a white shirt and tie. He pushed the people behind Aiko back toward the entrance door. As people fell due to his gruff pushing, he started dragging them. He was dragging a man and a woman, while his chest kept pushing the other people back. He locked the doors. He turned to face the sage man with a black drawn handgun.

Ranmaru dragged Aiko through the right door. A heavy curtain was behind it. It was the changing room. Many square boxes were piled on the wall for men to store their clothing and brief cases. Men were sitting naked. Some men were shaving in front of the mirror. News papers were folded on blonde wooden benches. Warm misty air fogged up the screens partially. Another yakuza man in suit was standing in the corner. Upon seeing them, he moved towards them and followed.

Ranmaru walked to a small side stairway. The stairway was wooden and spiral. Every plank in the railing had another intricate wood carving of a mystic fantasy creature. At the top of the stair case was a red velvet rope. A slender tall Japanese girl was dolled up with makeup and a long patterned dress. She held a clipboard. Upon seeing the two come up the stairs, she called out ‘Oh, dear, I will summon the committee.’ She quickly opened the velvet rope.

The next room had tiles on the floor. The ceiling was high and cathedral like. The night stars gazed through the windows high up in the air. At the floor level, the room was surrounded by pillars and little alcoves. In the center was a square water pool with still water. Big steps were all around the inside boundary of the pool. Ranmaru pushed her into the pool. Aiko stood there motionless in the center. The water was belly deep and warm. Her elegant evening dress was wet. She stood there in a daze. She watched more yakuza man in suits file into the room. They surrounded the pool. They took off their suits, ties, dress shirts, and elegant loafers. They put the gun on the clothes behind them. Their bodies were covered completely by tattoos. They held samurai swords unsheathed in the air in front of them. The blind sage man arrived. He touched Ranmaru’s arm: “Now is the time. Go.”

Ranmaru screamed. He ran into the pool towards Aiko. The water splashed up from his body. The sword entered Aiko’s solar plexus and went straight through her back. Her mouth gapes open in shock, horror, and pain. Both hands grabbed the blade. She cut herself not feeling the pain, holding on. Blood ran down her solar plexus into the water. Blood clouds formed in the water. A circle of red blood soon surrounded the two young lovers.

The onsen oyasi appeared as a strong middle aged man. He roared: “It is too late. She has been turned.” With that, he assaulted the sage man. His hand wrapped around the sage man’s throat, they fell to the ground. The yakuza man rushed with their samurai swords. The samurai swords were so sharp that they cut through bone like butter. Only a pile of pieces of flesh and fabric was left. Aiko fainted from the loss of blood.

Aiko woke up in her familiar bed in the apartment with her roommate. She felt her familiar bed covers. She saw her books and posters on the wall. She saw her personal clothes on the floor. Ranmaru was by her side. He tenderly looked at her and wiped her forehead with a sponge.

“Oh, sweet Aiko, you were possessed by a kind of sexual vampire. Instead of lusting for blood, he made you lust for sex. Instead of drinking blood, he would make you suck up the sexual fluids of the other person. Thus, you’d rob them of their youth and gain supernatural strength. Yet, those extra abilities came at a prize. You went weak and unconscious during the daytime. When I lunged the samurai sword into you, you were dying. With only seconds of life left in you, the sexual vampire left your body. In the physical form, we killed him with our spiritual swords. You are safe now again.”

All seemed well with Aiko. She went back to studying at college. She went on dates with Ranmaru. Another beautiful spring arrived. She learned about self defense against subway attacks. She saw pretty birds fighting over bread crumbs and chirping happily. The woman at the coffee stand smiled at her every morning as she handed her the coffee just as she liked it. Life was a happy college life, except for the nightmares.

Every night, her mother would appear in her dreams. Her mother would beg and plead Aiko to bring her father back. Her mother would cry tears with her makeup running down. Sometimes her mother would kill herself in front of Aiko. Other times, her mother would attack Aiko with household items until she would wake up in fear and terror.

During a visit back to the Ainu village, Aiko visited an old wise Ainu woman. She left separate from the village in a stone cabin. The wooden table was made from wood that she had felled herself. She offered Aiko a cup of tea. The herbal tea leaves were plugged herself from a nearby tree. The little pieces of dried leaves swirled in the tea sweetened with honey. The old wise woman held one of her hands with the palm facing up: “I believe part of your mother’s kamui is trapped in a monkey at the onsen. You must have met that special monkey. Perhaps, it was the monkey that groomed your hair every night. I believe the onsen oyasi has taught you, how to bring your father’s kamui to the onsen.”

The idea had been too gruesome to Aiko. Yet, during a particularly bad night, she sat the plan in motion. She picked an elegant card. She wrote formal invitation to a masquerade ball on it. She signed it with the name of one of her dad’s business partner. She printed the admission card for the masquerade ball on her printer and added it. The next day, she had a geisha hand deliver the invitation to her dad’s penthouse apartment. The geisha politely held the invitation card out with both hands and bowed correct to ceremony, as he picked up the card. She knew that her dad slept around with other women. She knew that her business partners were often the providers of those women. After all that was why her mother had divorced him.

The masquerade ball was at a dark elegant building. The room was perhaps six levels high with vast glass panel windows. The center of the room was a stair case leading up in square spirals. At random intervals, suspended walkways left the stairs. The walkway was made from steel. The railings on the side were glass panels with a metal rod along the top for the hands. At the end of the walkways were little platforms hanging from the ceiling. There was a couch that filled all around the edge of the platform with a little table in the middle. Her father was sitting by himself waiting for the business partner’s present.

Aiko wore a long blue dress with circular folds draping down on her. Her laced high heels had little jewelry stones to ad a sparkle. Her face was covered by a blue mask with feathers. A band attached the mask to her face. Long blue gloves covered her hands, forearms over her elbows. She gaited deliberated on top of each step up the stairs. She walked the walkway to her father, who did not recognize her. Her father kept looking up and down her body to see the curves of her hip. He loved the chin that peaked beneath the blue mask, the only part of her face visible.

She sat down next to him. Her father put his arm on top of the couch behind her. Her father politely opened: “Nice to meet you, miss. What is your name?” Aiko presented her iPhone. Her iPhone was inside the green case of her roommate to avoid her father recognizing it. She opened the text message application. She typed: “I cannot speak. If you wish to talk with me, you must type. There is no need to speak for you. You come with impeccable credentials.” Her father smiled wide.

A waiter brought him a Bourbon and a Cosmopolitan for Aiko. The father told her to dance on the table. He motioned her hand to get up. She stood there to turn on his dad. She swayed her hips side to side. Then, she coyly squatted down with her knees together. As she got up, she left her hands on the floor. Only her behind rose up. Her father could look deep into her braless décolleté. He leaned forward. His familiar fingers fingered in between her boobs to reveal more from the hanging dress. She felt a revulsion inside of her, as the familiar person, who had read her so many bedtimes stories and hugged her warmly after a bike accident, now saw her sexually.

She made the splits on the glass table. She felt the cold of the glass. Milky condensation of her warms were left on the glass, where her naked sex under the gown dress had been. Her own father leaned forward to lick the glass, to lick the left behind fragrance of the vagina of his own daughter. He smiled. He grabbed her young ass and pulled her off the table on top of him.

She knew that her father had some sick sexual practices. She told her to take off her dress. He called the waiter. He gave him the dress to make sure that she could not walk away from him, as she had no more clothes. Aiko grew nervous, what her dad would do to her. He had a bamboo stick. He tied her arms and legs to the bamboo stick. She was in a kind of squatting position with her legs spread open. The whole thing completely constraint her from moving. He unpacked his penis out of his suit pants.

She had seen that penis flaccid so often in the locker room as a little girl, during an accidental walk-in to surprise him in the bathroom, and so on. That harmless and flaccid member was now rushing into his little girl’s vagina. He had a firm and even rhythm. He came promptly. The sucking spasm inside her belly sucked up his cum and kamui. He swiftly rose and stampeded off. She left her tied to the bamboo rod on the glass table.

Five minutes later a group of young hipsters found the empty couch. They sat around her chatting. They assumed that she was part of the art installation at the upscale masquerade ball. One of the girls with blonde colored hair was curious to find out, what they were allowed to do with the human part of the art installation. She put the bottom of her martini glass on Aiko’s boob. That forced her nipple into the conical shape of the glass. The group laughed out loud. One of the males inspected her pussy closer and remarked that it was wet. The other girl took a photo of the wet pussy with the butt against the bamboo rod on the glass table. The first girl insisted on being in the photo. She placed her head on Aiko’s belly sideways looking down at the camera. She reached her tongue towards Aiko’s clitoris. The camera light flashed again. The eagerly grouped closer to get a look at the shot. Aiko was afraid that her dad might come back. So, she did not dare speak to avoid him recognizing her voice.

The waiter returned to offer the hipsters refreshments. A bold guy in the group asked, if they could eat on the display girl. The discrete waiter of the upscale establishment recommended a few rolls of sushi. He returned with the sushi. He carefully placed the sushi on Aikos naked belly. The guys were eager to eat the sushi of her skin. One of them tried to trump the thrill by gushing soy sauce on his sushi roll. The brown soy sauce ran over her body. The girl with the blonde colored hair tried to regain attention from the boys by trying to pick up one of Aiko’s nipples with the chop stick. Aiko had goose bumps running over her nipple. The nipple firmed. The hipsters laughed.

The hipsters got bored and walked away. One of the girls gushed, “You did not!” The other girl confirmed, “I did! Where else was I going to put my chop sticks? Her vag is a perfect chop stick holder.” One of the guys added that this was a truly rad party. Aiko was left with sticky soy sauce on her belly and a pair of chop sticks in her vagina. The waiter promptly cleaned up the table. He took away the empty drink glasses. He wiped the soy sauce of her body. He kept the chop sticks from her pussy in his chest pocket as a souvenir. He arranged her head to drop off the glass table. With her head tilted back, she was a perfect offering for a man to deep throat her, to tickle down her throat.

Luckily, nobody else came to the couch. In the morning, the waiter freed her and returned her evening gown. She picked up her suitcase at home and went to the train station. She slept the whole way to her Ainu village. She climbed the mountain to the onsen. She released the kamui of her father into the monkey that had groomed her in the morning. It seemed to have been right, because the monkey started masturbating immediately. I guess, his father’s and mother’s kamui were having sex inside of the monkey. She fell asleep from the exhaustion.

When she woke up she felt herself strangely tied to the onsen and unable to step more than a few feet away from it. She was held in by an invisible wall. As she remained sitting and pondering, it dawned on her that she was the new onsen oyasi. That’s what the last one had meant, when he said that she was turned.

The story could end here. It provides a fitting explanation, why it is dangerous to visit onsen at night, when the onsen oyasi is roaming. Never be deceived by the onsen oyasi sexually. It could be a nice scary story for the children. However, a few young and daring lads on purpose stayed overnight at the onsen. They were youthfully desperate enough to trade the sultry sex with Aiko for a few years of their life. The story of the young lads provided a nice story for rave organizers to organize sex raves for the whole weekend. Now youngsters make the long trip from Tokyo to the onsen for wild parties. It is sad that Aiko mingles in between the party crowd. She is now over eighty years old. Yet, with a few wads of male semen, her body looks like that of an eighteen year old. She is said to turn one lucky partygoer at each festival. Those lucky ones gain her powerful forces and her insatiable sexual appetite. They are said to roam the clubs and bars of Tokyo. Hold tight, the infection is spreading across the world!

Ridges were pushing in from left and right into the distance. They looked like fingers pushing in between each other interlocking. Yes, they looked as dry and brown as the dried and dirty work hands of a redneck pa. Only straight down ran a weak river twisting left and right past the ridges. He could count the ridges into the distance: one, two, three, and four. Four more ridges to night camp were left. They had run out of gas, the gas that was firing their boots. Those dusty, dirty army boots were stepping along an old Bedouin path.

Earlier that day, their eyes had half been on the sheep shit pebbles on the path to avoid stepping on them. The other half had been admiring tall black burned bushes with all branches facing up to form a cage, itsy little bit yellow flowers on a pale gray flower, true cacti with their spikes on green flesh. The sun, heat, and dryness had beaten all flair de vivre out of them. Their eyes were solely fixing the fourth ridge in the distance, the thumb on the topographic map, and the rapidly lowering sun.

They were crossing a field of grass. The field was flat. The golden grass was thick and thigh high. By any other measures, it could have been a summer dream dancing through the fields of Italy with barefoot kids pulling kids. Yes, this morning at mission briefing in the air conditioned office, their captain holding a cup of fresh coffee with steamed milk in the hand had said that it were a vacation: Protect a ridge next to a natural hot springs. “Sit in the Jacuzzi, pet the rubber ducky with one hand and the other hand on the barrel.” That’s how he had explained their mission. This field of grass had the grass dried out long ago in the desert heat.

Dried out and mind numb, so were Sergeant Major Blane and Corporal Sookie. Blane looked at Sookie’s ass, as she was wading through the grass in front of him. With the overnight backpack towering over her back, her camouflage print fatigues were the only sexy spot of her body exposed. Thank the lord, for black women with their juicy asses. The point of an ass is not to walk. The point of an ass is to have the bulges and curves in the right spot to trigger a massive dose of brain chemicals to be released inside of males. The curve on the side of her ass, at the smile of her ass, and in between her ass cheeks, those were the drugs that helped him move on. They helped him forget the dried out nostrils plugged with desert dust that plagued him since hours.

As they reached, the end of the field, they saw movement at the slope below. They quietly cowered behind a thigh high rock. “Looks like a perfect hiding spot, the only rock in this goddamn flatness. Keep the enemy guessing, where possibly, we could be hiding, dirt diver.” “Fucking shit, Betty Blue.” Blane’s call sign was “Betty Blue.” Betty Blue is a French film with the French title of “37.2 degree Celsius in the morning.” That is the normal body temperature of a pregnant woman. Blane was infamous for the pregnancy scars at the academy, yet lucky enough to have gone scotch free so far. Sookie’s call sign dirt diver should have an easy enough to imagine background.

It was like it always goes. They were shivering and tense from adrenaline. Yet, their crouched position gave them enough of their own body for a self hug to self nurture. The thighs, where pressed on the chest. The arms were rapped around to hold the M16. The right hand would shift from the trigger to the grenade on the vest. Blow ‘em up or shot ‘em down?

“Friendlies! Friendlies!”
“Yeah, that’s what the last scum bag said, too. They hand out IPod’s with those phrases now.”
“Code Papa-Uniform-Sierra-Sierra Papa-Alfa-Lima-Alfa-Charlie-Echo“

Sookie scrambled for the dog eared code book in her pocket. Flags, color coding, symbols, dates were circled, pointed, and abandoned by her index finger. It was the right daily code.

“Golf-Oscar-Tango Bravo-Lima-India-November-Golf.
“Are we good now?”
“No, the last fucker had found the same fucking book on a dead body. You move and I blow your head off.”
“Venga, dame eso y para ya de tocar los cojones! Scrap the bullshit, you blunt idiot of a toad. We have been marching for days to extract a piece of shit package. You blonde son of whore with green ears and pee drops in your panties, when I get my hands around your bloody rotten throat, I will ram my dick up your ass so high that it’ll tickle your throat. You fucking fuckup, you….”
“Definitely American! We are coming out now. We are two Rangers behind the only rock around here.”

Five scrawny Asians in camouflage climbed up the hill. They were quiet. Their faces had the plainness of a long day of walking. Their officer shared that they had seen some action. They were bringing their target home for tagging and identification. At first Sookie and Blane exchanged faces due to the lack of a stretcher, coffin, or any other means to transport a human being. However, as the men walked past them in file on their way out of the combat zone, they saw the head tied to the back of a back pack. The head was cut off at the throat. The messy and sweaty curls sticking to the forehead were the most memorable. It had been a man with dark eyes and dark hair. Now, he was pale, drained of blood, and with its eyes closed. The next soldier walking past them carried his hand on the backpack, presumably for finger printing. They were glad that the ghastly convoy had moved on.

An hour later, they arrived at a river crossing. He had already gotten his boots wet earlier during a mishap. So, he carried her across to spare her still dry boots. She stood on a rock. He squatted down. He grabbed in between her legs with the right arm. The left arm grabbed her arm and pulled her on his shoulders. Her chest and belly were now lying on his shoulders and top of the backpack. She lied on top of him like a wet and slack package. He could not get much joy of the idea of the possibility of feeling one of her boobs through the uniform, shoulder strap and all the crap hanging on him. The water felt oddly good. He was looking down at the only refreshing and vividly alive thing in this desert. He negotiated the best stepping places between the greenish rocks in the water to avoid them falling and getting soaked. Horse shoe marks right at the egress of the water. A mounted unit must have come through. The sun was barely over the horizon.

When the sun was down, the reddish shimmer showed them the jungle that they had to cross. The map said that on the other end was their camp location. The map was too old to tell them about the swamp ahead. The river had widened onto soft sandy banks. The water had grown thick vegetation and standing pools of water. The Bedouin trail had run into a wall of green somewhere: A shallow river branch with tall reed on the other side. They had to find their own way to a camp that may not exist anymore.

They doubled back to the beginning of the sand banks, where the river was still defined. On the other side, a faint animal trail lead under willows and in between thick bushes with a million leaves. The green coverage and waning daylight made them turn on the flashlights. The beams of the flashlights were running over sand and little branches growing out of the sand. Half a klick into green jell-o was a sand bar with an old metal foldout chair and black fire circle. Sookie thought that it might be the camp site. Blane thought that it was straight out of the computer game Half Life. Father Grigori would have set up a hangout spot like this to down beer, while he was shooting zombies. They walked on.

They had to turn the flashlights off. With the protection of the green jell-o behind, the light might give them away. In front of them was the mountain slope. In between was a patch of grass and spread out trees. Meandering through it was the continuation of the Bedouin trail that would lead up the mountain in a gully. That was for tomorrow. For now, they needed to put up camp. The hut and low walls up front may be the camp ground.

Sookie had a worried face. She clutched his belt hard, as she was following his lead closely. They were advancing in a low crouch along a wall towards the hut. The M-16 was at the ready with the security off. He set the fire mode selector was set to burst mode. A burst of three bullets per click would raise the chances of one bullet bringing down the prize without emptying the whole magazine on a single target. Most of the time, your heart is beating like mad for another empty dilapidated piece of nothing. The few times a bogie pops up, you wish that you had been vigilant a second earlier.

“Let’s pop a grenade and blow the whole hut to shreds,” whispered Sookie. She clearly didn’t like the tension of sneaking up on the hut. “We’d be watching our six the whole night for all the cockroaches that we’d wake up in this whole valley.” Sookie stood flat against a tree. She seemed to be carrying utterly too much for her body. The straps of the backpack, canteen, and M16 made for an intricate work of webbing. Her face was tense and focused on the task at hand.

Her barrel was lowered and aimed at the hut. Her trigger finger moved from a safe position along the barrel onto the trigger. Blane’s fingers counted down to three. He jumped up and over the low wall in front of him. He dashed towards the hut. He broke down the door. He swiftly moved the gun sight through the corners of the hut. The hut was utterly empty. There was not even a floor on the ground. His boots were standing among bleached white bones. The white was so stark that it was almost phosphorous. The bones were long and large, probably harmless and bovine.

He got Sookie to fall back to the green jell-o, before she realized the bones. He knew a spooked soldier, when he felt her wet hands clutching on him. Father Grigori spooked him. So, they went back pushing through plants looking for a good night spot.

A dry sand bank lighted in the now risen almost full moon light provided an inviting place. The loose sand would be a soft bed to sleep on. A few branches burning in a circle in front of them provided much needed cheer to scare the ghosts out of their bones. The warm food would give the belly courage. The green jell-o would hide the light of the fire.

The tent was set up swiftly: Packs at the entrance, boots knocked against each other stuffed next to the packs, the sleeping bugs puffed up and rolled out, the dusty overclothes kicked off and rolled into a corner. “Do you want to fuck?” “Yes, let’s fuck.”

Life returned into the movement. Hands were gliding under the open sleeping bag. Panties were pulled down. A hand reached for a boob. A mouth snatched a kiss. A rubber was pulled out of a pocket with strain. Teeth bit a neck. “Is it in?” “Can you put it in?” Good feelings rolled. Bodies rolled under the sleeping bag to find each other for more skin contact. Sweat collected on an eye brow. A hand found a boob in between the fabric and underwear. A foot caressed another foot.

“Flip over, your crotch makes me hard” Sookie turned on her stomach. Blane pounded her from behind. His fingers feathered her clit. Then, his hands held her hips, as he drove his soul down and into her. Sookie moaned softly into the puffed hood of her sleeping bag. He warned her about imminently coming. He came. She had already come. A minute of afterglow, then hands fumbled under covers to securely wrap the wet condom in tissues and put it in a safe place. “That’s why I like oral better in the field,” were Blane’s thoughts.

When he awoke again, it was night. The tent ceiling was covered with thick pregnant water drops. Sleeping in the midst of a humid river sand bank had not been a good idea. He did not want to move to accidently kick the water on Sookie and him.

The morning light roused him for a second time. Sookie was sleeping on her back. Her face was red and squished from the night. A boob lurked out from under the half open sleeping bag. A crease was running across her brown firm breast. She had been lying on her chest earlier and a fold of fabric must have pressed into her. He was ready to get busy with her again. The atmosphere in the tent felt like they were simply on a camping trip out in nature for fun and sexual frolicking.

During breakfast, the sat phone rang. The patch of dirt that they were sent to protect turned out to simply be a patch of dirt worthless to protect. The wise wizards at the Pentagon ordered them back for a new mission.