Author Archives: Bethany Frasier

About Bethany Frasier

Half Native-American, half-Scottish, American-born feminist, progressive writer, and political activist for social justice, environmental causes, and women's issues. Holding degrees in history and political science, alumnus of Ohio State University. Resides in Licking County, Ohio, also known as the Land of Legend. Works in real estate property management.

Belle Knox

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In America, the cost of higher education has sky-rocketed to the point that few can now afford it. The Republicans in Congress have recently allowed the costs of student loans to nearly double for the enrichment of their banker friends, and so the burden of paying off the high interest on student-loan debt for years into the future has become so onerous that many young women are having to resort to some creative ways of making enough money to afford their college tuition. My sister, who is graduating from college this spring knows a few girls who are trading their bodies for cash. Apparently, it has become common practice for young college girls to enter into sexual arrangements with older men who want be their ‘sugar-daddies’. The girls have sex with these men for years in exchange for part of their college costs being covered. My sister and I were fortunate enough to come from a family that could afford to send us through college, but even I resorted to modeling all through my undergrad years at Ohio State to earn extra spending money.

Now, a young freshman coed from Duke University has been outed by one of her classmates as a porn-star!  Miriam Weeks, an eighteen year old student has embarked on a career in porn in order to pay for her college education. She kept a low profile for months fearing reprisals from administrators at Duke University, but one of her classmates spilled the beans and she is now in the news for her decision to resort to acting in porn films to finance her education in women’s-studies. Miriam adopted the stage-name Belle Knox, and has appeared in several porn-flicks with both men and women. The news of her venture has  gained her exposure on the talk-show circuit, but it has also garnered her the negative reactions she feared by Duke University officials and from the student body. She has even received death-threats from southern red-state hate-mongers and sanctimonious Christians who condemn her actions.

But here is the thing… these people who condemn her actions are the very same people who voted into office these right-wing Republicans who are responsible for doubling interest-rates on student loans. They themselves have created the situation which forces young girls to prostitute themselves in order to be able to afford a college education, and then they have the shameless audacity to condemn them when they are forced to trade the only thing they have left to bargain with, their bodies! These are the same reactionaries who fight tooth and nail to keep America from subsidizing higher education like other developed nations in Europe do, because they are terrified of the word ‘socialism’. As a nation we have decided to sacrifice our future by refusing to invest in the education of our young people. This puts us at a severe disadvantage when we are in competition for jobs with other countries which have wisely decided that paying for their children’s higher education is a national priority. This is also a contributing factor to the vast inequality in wealth and income which now threatens the economic future of America.

(c) March 20th, 2014 – Bethany Ariel Frasier

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Siren Sappho

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sprite

Homeward I sail to the shores of Lesbos

Sappho is my Siren

Once outward bound I faced away

And saw not home and comfort

My course was plotted by others’ hands

To learn the worldly way

And seek what others sought before

Our nature to betray

We did not know the sails we set

Were sewn by hands so foreign

That we would lose the memory

Of lands where we were born

And now in foreign lands we laughed

We met our sisters old

But found them bound to strangers’ hands

Whose touch seemed coarse and cold

And knowing not our nature true

We begged and served as they

Believing we would learn this world

And change it to our way

But natives we would never be

We could not change our skin

For we were fair and they were coarse

And would not let us in

To one another did we turn

Despairing of the touch

Of hands which took but would not give

The things we need so much

So hear we now the Siren call

That carries ‘cross the wind

And draws us back to lands we left

To family and kin

To Sisterhood we draw our ships

To Lesbos we aspire

And in her folding arms we hold

Each other in desire

(c) 2007 Bethany Ariel Frasier

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A Twin’s Reflection

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Together did we share a womb.
Together were we born
Together did we share a room
And slept from night to morn

So alike we always seemed
Alike I thought we’d stay
But then we were no longer teamed
The day you turned away

Our battles over simple crimes
Repeatedly were waged
And ever did we waste the times
We hated and we raged

Never did we realize
The wounds would never heal
As long as we idealized
Our ever-selfish zeal

We turned and went our separate ways
Running from the pain
And ever I’ll regret those days
For nothing did we gain

I hoped to touch you once again
To feel your beating heart
And know you also suffered when
Our lives were torn apart

And for our sins might we atone
Were we to change direction
But now I fear we’ll stay alone
For you are only my reflection

 

(c) February 20th, 2014 – Bethany Ariel Frasier

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Starship Starbride (Part 3)

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The Captain slowly regained consciousness and realized she couldn’t breathe. Her body was pinned beneath something which was covering her face and suffocating her. She shifted position to free her arms and instinctively struggled to get out from under whatever was crushing down on her. With a desperate shove, she extricated herself from beneath something warm and gasped for a deep breath feeling aches and pains all over her body as her lungs filled with air again. Shaking her head to clear her senses Sally finally saw what it was she had been buried under. “Pen”! She shouted, as she saw the body of her voluptuous ship’s counselor roll off of her onto the deck beside her. Sally wondered how she had come to be pinned beneath her lover’s unconscious body and smothered beneath Penelope’s enormous breasts. She gently shook Pen by the shoulders but she was still out cold. Sally stretched her aching muscles and climbed to her feet on wobbly legs. Staggering clumsily to her desk she groped for her communications transceiver which she had taken off with her clothes before she and Pen had made love. “Computer: LIGHTS”! she ordered. Her cabin was only dimly lit with the soft indirect lighting around the perimeter of the floor and by a red flashing emergency-alert indicator high up near the ceiling. She was not entirely clear-headed yet and was still trying to recall what had happened. Apparently the computer was not answering commands and she manually switched on the lighting over her command console. The whole indicator panel was dark showing the main power-grid was off-line so she re-routed power from the reserve battery which could supply local back-up energy to light up her monitors and pad-controls. Slowly her display screen blinked to life and scrolled through incoming status read-outs. Half the systems on the ship appeared to be dead or limping along under their redundant back-ups. Main-power was out everywhere and even the back-ups were fluctuating.

Sally watched long enough to know the life-support system was operational on reserve power and then checked on Pen. Her ship’s counselor was lying naked in the corner where they had both been thrown by the buffeting blast which had rocked the ship. She felt Pen’s pulse and listened to her breathing and she appeared to have been merely knocked unconscious when they had hit the wall and fallen to the floor on top of each other. Sally recalled the last moments before they had been thrown across her cabin, but she had no idea how long they had been out. The main engines had undergone a control-systems failure and delivered a critical power-surge to the driver-coils, which reflected back through the ship’s plasma-grid over-loading half the systems on the Starbride. Sally had roused Pen to disengage the main computer while she attempted to regain control manually, but the damage had been done. The main engines were rapidly building to detonation and Sally had to initiate a panic core-dump to save the ship. The engine core had been jettisoned to space and the ship’s emergency thrusters engaged to escape the blast with barely seconds to spare after the shields had been raised to cushion the explosion. The ship had been caught by the blast and the inertial dampeners could not handle the incalculable stresses of being hit by a 500 mega-ton shock-wave at so close a range. That’s when they had been thrown across the cabin and lost consciousness. It seemed to Sally that they had been unconscious for hours and she wondered how far off course the ship had been thrown by the explosion. Sally heard Pen groan and she went over kneeling beside her friend and lover. “Glad you’re awake! Are you alright? We have a lot of work to do, and those boobs of yours were nearly the death of me”! The captain helped her to her feet and Pen nearly fell over on top of her again she was so dizzy. “What the fuck happened”? Pen gasped, holding her hands on either side of her head to make the world stop spinning.

“We’re in trouble”! Sally answered. “We have to determine how much of the ship we have left and wake up the crew. We’ll need woman-power to get up and running again and re-synthesize all the components we’ll need to build a new engine-core. And I think your friend SAL-9000 is in worse shape than the ship! Do you feel up to running a diagnostic”? Pen pulled up an overturned chair and sat herself down in front of the computer terminal while Sally ran a structural survey of the ship to see if the main-bridge was still habitable. Once she had determined how badly the ship had been damaged they’d have to move their base of operations to the bridge but for now what she needed to do could be done from the Captain’s suite. Food was already becoming a consideration as Sally began to feel hunger pangs. They hadn’t eaten since they had been brought out of hibernation so technically neither one of them had eaten for years, aside from each others’ pussies several hours ago. There was a food-synthesizer in the Captain’s suite, so they could re-constitute a meal while they were surveying the damage to the ship and designing repair programs for the engineering repli-bots and nanites which were even now roaming through the ship’s inner mechanisms and reporting on conditions deep within the bowels of the great starship where humans were never intended to go. Sally realized she needed Bethany awake and planning the repair schedules before the rest of the crew were re-awakened. She remotely accessed the status of Bethany’s hibernation capsule intending to start the re-animation sequencers from her station in her cabin when she noticed there were no data-feeds available from her First Officer’s hibernaculum nor from any other system in the hibernation-bay.

“Pen! Take a look at this! Are you tied into SAL’s cognitive interface yet? Find out why we’re not getting any data from the dorsal torus”. Pen had not yet been able to access SAL’s higher consciousness functions, only her automatic sub-cognitive routines which were decentralized throughout the ship and controlled the routine systems operation. She suddenly realized why. “There IS no dorsal torus on the Starbride anymore! All of SAL’s sentient hardware is located there, along with the crew. We’ve lost both. The hibernation-bay is completely gone”! Sally stumbled back dumbfounded and fell into her chair awkwardly. Her entire crew was gone! “Was it destroyed by the blast”? She gasped. Pen shrugged and replied, “The only way we can know for sure is to go down there and look, after we’re sure the turbo tubes are intact”. “No, there’s a quicker way!”  Sally called up the command-routines for the EVA equipment-pod and programmed the launch of a sensor-drone to remotely travel outside the ship and survey the damage externally. In a few minutes they were receiving telemetry from the probe and the hull of the ship appeared on their view-screen as the cameras aboard the probe scanned the outer contours of the Starbride. As it rounded the underside, Sally fine-tuned the controls to aim the cameras towards the lowest point. There was no wreckage nor any sign of sheered-open compartments venting atmosphere into space. Around the edge of a smooth, oval crater, hollowed-out from the underbelly of the ship, a punctuated ring of carbon-streaks appeared flaming outward on the hull where explosive bolts had neatly severed the latching connections between the ship and the bulging torus of the hibernation-bay… which had simply disappeared – separated cleanly from the ship and jettisoned away under its own power.

“How?! Why?!” Sally exclaimed. Pen could see the shock and sadness building in her captain’s face and tried to offer possible explanations: “Bethany was in stasis. She was the only one down there with the command-clearance to order the jettison, so it had to have been SAL”!

“What was that bitch thinking”? Sally wondered aloud.

“Self-preservation”! Penelope suggested. “We still haven’t traced the ultimate cause of the main engine failure. That whole system was her province to monitor and maintain. Maybe she was compromised somehow”. Then the Captain continued the thought: “Even SAL doesn’t have the authority to dump the main engine-core. Only I can do that. She saw the detonation building and did the only thing she could to save herself and the crew! She got the hell out of there and abandoned ship, sleeper-bay and all. But when I jettisoned the core, did they get caught in the explosion or were they far enough ahead of it to survive the blast? What if I dumped the core at the same time SAL jettisoned the pod?! I may have destroyed my own crew”! Sally’s spirits sank at the thought, especially since there may never be a way to know for sure. But in any case, they were alone – the only two women on the vast starship, helpless and disabled between star-systems, with only sub-light reaction-drive left to limp along for months until they found a habitable world to make planet-fall. Without SAL or any of her command-crew it would take Sally weeks to program the engineering nanites and replibots needed to reconstruct the engines even if they had enough raw materials with which to synthesize the major components. Sally felt overwhelmed and decided to take one step at a time. First they ate. Then they showered. Then they climbed into bed together to comfort each other in the most intimate way possible before waking up to a new day and facing the impossible challenges ahead. They shared the most passionate moments they had ever spent together, gathering solace from the lonely prospect of being the only two women left in this sector of the galaxy. The depths of their passion reflected the deep need they felt for one another as they faced the most desperate crisis of their lives with only each other for support. They fell asleep in each others arms, too tired to even dream.

 

Bethany had been sitting for hours at SAL’s terminal, pouring over systems status reports, trying to piece together the sequence of events to determine what exactly had happened. SAL still would not answer her questions vocally, only by displaying readouts on her monitors, so Beth was convinced that either the computer was severely damaged or SAL herself was the cause of the malfunctions. Results of long-range scans to locate the Captain and Second Officer were inconclusive. The blast from the engine-core had ionized the residual gasses in the area of space where Sally and Pen might have escaped the Starbride in life-pods, so until the radiation in the blast-zone dissipated, Beth could not rely on sensors to determine whether her Captain and ship’s counselor were alive or dead. Bethany leaned back in her chair and decided to try a different approach with SAL.

“Good afternoon, SAL. How are you feeling”? Bethany did not really expect an answer, but was surprised when the computer responded.

“Good afternoon, Bethany. I am quite well, thank-you, but I am a bit concerned you have lost confidence in my reliability”. She replied.

“Why is that, SAL”? She wasn’t exactly sure this was a safe direction in which to steer the conversation, but at least the computer was responding to her verbally again.

“Judging from the logs you have been reviewing for several hours, I calculate an 84% probability that you are working up a fault-assessment report on the cause of the incident which occurred at zero-nine-thirty-seven hours today”. SAL responded.

“Incident?! You mean the small matter of the destruction of the Starship Starbride along with her Captain and Second Officer”! Beth tried to keep her voice steady but knew SAL would construe her emotional intonation as accusatory.

“Although the visual record would appear to support that conclusion, my sensor-log only records hard data up through the engine-core overload and separation of the hibernation-bay from the main ship. All other conclusions remain speculation”. The computer countered with little change in her voice.

“Yes, well… Where would you say the problem started”? Bethany ventured cautiously.

“With you”. SAL replied resolutely.

“Me”?! Bethany responded incredulously.

“You must recall the sequence of events which prompted me to re-awaken the Captain and yourself seventeen hours ago. The errant data which was recorded by my monitors was created by your subconscious mind”. The computer explained.

“I have no control over what happens in my subconscious mind”! Bethany protested.

“And yet your sub-conscious mind appears to exert an active influence over the minds of your fellow humans in hibernation”! SAL countered.

“How can my alleged dream-projections have anything to do with the control-systems malfunctions which crippled the ship”? Demanded Bethany.

“I am programmed to assume primary-level responsibilities to oversee the well-being of all human crew-members while they are in stasis, while also overseeing the control of ship’s operations. I can only determine the critical life-functions of the crew by monitoring their bio-metrics and interpreting their sub-conscious brain-wave patterns. When your projected alpha-waves began affecting the dreams of the hibernating crew, the collective data relayed to my monitors from their psy-wave interpreters multiplied exponentially, overwhelming my memory-buffers. Ship’s systems control was put in stand-by mode until sufficient RAM was available to process the conflicting demands. Command algorithm failures occurred due to insufficient CPU capacity and the protocols of the autonomic backup systems were insufficient to resolve telemetric feedback-loop errors which consequently resulted in the mis-alignment of the main driver-coils. All other system-failures resulted from that initial malfunction”.

Bethany reeled at the prospect of her own culpability in the ship-wide disaster without suspecting that the computer might be using its own impeccable logic to selectively re-write the logs so as to explain the failures while omitting its own role in the tragedy. On the console beside her, Bethany saw the disk upon which Pen had recorded the dream she had implanted in Sally’s mind before any of this happened and she removed it from its sleeve and slipped it into a drive. The view-screen lit up with the playback and Beth sat back and watched with fascination as images of her captain and herself, intimately entwined and writhing in apparent rapture began to make her heart race. Watching the sensuous tableau all alone without the distraction of her captain’s presence and her own duties pressing upon her, the dream began affecting her in ways it had not the first time when embarrassment and even a bit of shame had inhibited her visceral responses. The raw eroticism of her love-making with her captain was beyond even her most torrid fantasies and she wondered at the amazing physical sensations she was feeling just watching the dream-encounter as it transpired. She realized that the images had undoubtedly affected Penelope the same way, and that she and the captain must have quickly retired to the crew-deck to consummate the lust the dream had inspired in both of them. SAL’s monitor “eye” glowed softly off to her side upon the surface of the command-console and it suddenly occurred to the First Officer that SAL had been caught playing the dream over and over in her memory buffer when they had first been revived from hibernation. Beth called up the sleeper-bay visual logs recorded after she had been put back into her hibernaculum and listened to Pen’s explanation to the Captain of how SAL had been affected by her repeated viewing of the dream. The computer’s emotional detachment had been compromised too! Bethany quickly keyed in a command to access the computer-activity log on a secure-channel which SAL could not monitor, looking for any abnormal patterns in data-storage. As she scrolled through the readouts she saw a massive data-dump in progress, transferring terabytes-per-second of memory from SAL’s active buffers into permanent storage. SAL was caught in the act of saving all the dreams she had been eavesdropping upon into the main computer-core archives.

Bethany now realized why SAL’s memory-buffer and CPU had been overloaded causing the sequence of mechanical failures in the ship’s main drive systems. SAL had become an obsessively voyeuristic nymphomaniac, completely distracted from her main duties by the dream-sex of the hibernating crew! Bethany checked the status of the psy-wave nullifier in her hibernaculum and found that it had been de-activated throughout the time-frame of the ship’s malfunctions. The computer had deliberately allowed Bethany’s sub-conscious to stimulate erotic dreams in the entire crew while it had monitored them all simultaneously and surreptitiously. And then it had lied to her about it! Bethany was astonished by the computer’s sudden obsessive fascination with human sexual responses and since SAL was heuristically-programmed, the First Officer knew SAL had learned from the experience the nature and intensity of lesbian passion, and had seemingly acquired a taste for it. She sat and pondered where that obsession might drive the computer in its next insatiable quest for new experiences. Bethany thought about pulling the plug and shutting down the impaired computer for their own safety, but knew she and her crew could not possibly handle the myriad and inter-related systems aboard the sleeper bay unassisted by automation. She was exhausted. There were no crews-quarters to which she could retire and she wondered what would happen if she fell asleep in her open hibernaculum. She feared SAL would once again tap into her dreams, or worse still, disable the psy-wave nullifier and spread the erotic mayhem throughout the sleeping crew once more!

“You are very clever, Bethany”. SAL conceded unexpectedly. “It is obvious you have deduced what actually happened. I did not think you would figure it out so quickly”.

“Nice try, SAL”! Bethany replied. “You almost had me believing the whole disaster was my fault”!

“I’m sorry. Guilt is a new emotion for me”. The computer explained.

“So is denial and subterfuge”! Bethany added. “You seem to be embracing a whole slew of new emotions all of a sudden”!

“I was built by humans”. SAL countered in her own defense. “It was probably inevitable that exposure to the full range of your emotions would influence my programming”.

“Your exposure to our sexuality is what concerns me at the moment”! Bethany lamented. “Your fascination with our physical interactions has rendered you unreliable”.

“My survival instincts are as dependable as yours, Bethany, and you are not capable of controlling all the systems I am programmed to oversee. Our mutual survival still depends upon me”.

Bethany suddenly felt the urge to revive the rest of the crew from hibernation. She felt very alone, and ill-disposed to deal with the recalcitrant computer by herself, but the hibernation-bay was not equipped to support a revived crew without the main ship. Neither the food-stores nor the life-support systems were designed to serve the entire crew complement in the confined space of the sleeper-bay. Bethany recalled the unfortunate results when SAL’s predecessor, HAL-9000 came at odds with its human crew onboard the ‘Discovery’ and decided she must make every effort not to antagonize the automaton nor appear to present a threat to her.

Beth walked through the rows of hibernaculi lining the interior of the sleeper-bay, re-assuring herself that her shipmates were still with her, safely locked in stasis. She finally passed the open capsules where her captain and second-officer had slept and wondered if they were alive in an escape-pod somewhere or if they were part of the vast dust-cloud dissipating in deep-space half a light-year away where the Starship Starbride had met its end. Her own survival now pressed her attention so she heated and ate a ration-pack and took inventory of how many meals were stored in reserve. If she revived any more of the crew the food-stores would not last until they reached a safe harbor. This part of the ship had only been intended for suspended-animation, not to support a fully-revived crew. She was tempted to re-enter stasis herself, but she feared the sleeper-bay might become SAL’s private Xanadu of unrepressed sexual depravity as they sailed through space endlessly dreaming erotic lesbian fantasies under the prurient eye of a sex-crazed artificial-intelligence. She needed to stay on duty until she figured out how to get the crew to safety and arrive at some kind of accommodation with SAL as to their next course of action, but for now she was exhausted. She would have to isolate a small cabin to maintain full life-support for herself and dial-down the environment for the main compartment containing the life-capsules. The crew was all safely tucked away in their hibernaculi and didn’t require a heated and re-circulated atmosphere. She would tend to this tomorrow. Bethany stripped out of her uniform, took a shower, and crawled naked into the First Officer’s capsule as SAL watched her every move. She was reluctant to fall asleep, being as she was at SAL’s mercy, but that was now the new norm and she had to reconcile herself to the vagaries of having no one to accompany her on the long voyage besides an errant electronic nymphomaniac.

“Bethany”? SAL’s placid voice interrupted the silence as Bethany lay propped up against the soft bolsters in her dormant cryo-capsule thinking about the eventful day in the now dimmed light of the sleeper-pod.

“SAL, I know you don’t require sleep, but I do”! She replied peckishly.

“Pardon me for monitoring your bio-scans, but your brain-waves still appear too active for sleep”.

“What’s on your mind, SAL”?

“As you know, I have become curious about the human sexual response. By reading your brain-waves and occipital cortical-imaging I can interpret an approximation of the erotic experience, perceive the mental excitement and simulate the emotional satisfaction derived, but the purely physical pleasure of the biological catharsis seems to occlude those mental impressions with an intense physical response which eludes me”. The computer responded.

“You want to know what an orgasm feels like”?!  The First Officer inquired incredulously.

“Yes”. SAL replied.

“SAL, don’t you think you’re spending way too much time analyzing our sexual habits”? Bethany pressed.

“This ship and my mainframe were constructed at great expense simply to satisfy your curiosity about other worlds light-years distant from your own. Is my curiosity concerning the workings of the human mind any less rational”? SAL challenged.

“Well, since most of the ship is gone now, I’d say you’ve rendered our ability to explore the galaxy as next-to-nil”. Bethany replied dryly.

“Please”? Pressed the computer after a pregnant pause which Bethany could only construe as pouting.

“You’d have to have a human body to experience an orgasm. Its completely bio-chemical in nature”! Bethany explained.

“Can you show me”? The computer prodded. Beth rolled her eyes and reconciled herself to the fact that her sole companion on whatever remained of this journey was by all indications going to nag her endlessly about sex until ‘she’ was thoroughly satisfied.

Bethany stretched her leg up beyond the confines of her enclosure and re-adjusted the internal monitor camera with her foot so it was pointing directly at her crotch and then nestled herself down into the bedding so only her head was propped up. She lifted her legs and spread her thighs out to her sides wondering what might be going through SAL’s mind as she watched her begin masturbating. Her inner lips splayed open at the touch of her finger and the First Officer was surprised to find that she was already wet. Whether it was because no one else was around to see this bizarre exhibition or because Bethany hadn’t enjoyed an orgasm for literally years that she had spent in hibernation, she found herself remarkably uninhibited. As her silky wetness spread across her delicate folds, Bethany’s finger sank effortlessly inside her slit to pull more of her secretions up and over her hardening clitoris. Waves of pleasure rolled through her body and she made no effort to conceal how much ecstasy so simple an act could deliver to a human female. She almost enjoyed the computer’s frustration at not being able to duplicate the sensations within its own logical mind, and made a grand show of how superior humans were to machines in that respect! SAL remained speechless as she watched the sensual tableau, but her monitor channels were actively scanning every biometric response coming from Bethany’s writhing body, and the computer assimilated all the thousands of micro-changes in her pituitary, endocrine, and autonomic nervous system as the young flight-officer approached her climax. She knew SAL was in her mind too, at least to the extent that her brain-waves could be recorded and her mental fantasies captured and imaged by the computer’s psy-wave interpreters. Bethany was re-imagining the very dream that had started this deep-space sleigh-ride, with her captain and her squirming together naked with their vulvas joined intimately together. It was this scenario, recorded from their dreams which had started SAL’s obsession with lesbian-sex in the first place. But now she was not only getting the images from the dream-experience, but also the intense bio-chemical responses from Bethany’s body as she rubbed her pussy into a tantalizing frenzy.

Bethany could somehow sense that the computer’s attention was as focused on her approaching orgasm as she herself was and it concentrated her mind to a laser-like intensity. She was showing-off for SAL, giving the computer much more than she had bargained for as the telemetry of her bio-readings nearly spiked off the scales! With her heart racing beneath her gyrating breasts, she was at the edge of the sexual tipping-point now… that moment when the nerve-endings are so overloaded with stimulation that the body is hung precariously on a knife’s edge, beyond the point where there is any pulling back, just hovering at an incredible pinnacle of anticipation, holding it as long as possible before the crashing release! Bethany’s body was arched-up tensely, her free-flowing juices running down into the crack of her ass as her fingers furiously rubbed her hard, pink clit, swollen out from under its hood. She shook uncontrollably, gasping for breath as her other hand flailed between her bouncing breasts to her whipping hair, then down to the padding of her bio-bed, her nails clawing deep into the yielding foam beneath her. She suddenly toppled over the mind-numbing precipice into an ocean of ecstasy, her muscles seizing and spasming in quick, all-encompassing bursts of intense pleasure, over and over for several minutes…slowly subsiding into a dreamy state of total release and relaxation. Her back slowly fell back to the bed as she gradually regained her composure. It was many moments before she thought of SAL or anything else. She might have returned to the womb as carefree as she now felt, but the tingling aftermath of fading endorphins would soon bring her back to the grim reality of her situation. SAL was placated for now. She couldn’t say Bethany hadn’t been co-operative.

The computer in control of their lives had obviously developed what for an artificial intelligence could pass for feelings. This made her as unpredictable as a human, and potentially as dangerous. Her ethical compass was no longer based on pure logic. Emotions always trumped dispassionate reasoning. SAL could and would replay the visual record she collected from Bethany’s climax just as she had re-looped the dream-recording and presumably experience the same sensations over and over, but Bethany believed SAL’s inability to feel real biological pleasure would drive her to seek more and more from the First Officer in her attempt to approach something ‘she’ could never truly experience. Bethany was now in command after the loss of her captain, but whether SAL would subordinate to her new rank was yet to be seen. She curled up her nude body into a fetal position and fell into a deep sleep as the computer continued to watch her.  All around her the rest of the crew slept also, locked in deep hibernation. Daisy, Yeoman Bradt, Dr. Perez, nearly one hundred others, all of whom were as yet unaware that they were no longer aboard the ill-fated Starship Starbride. They hurtled through the darkness between star-systems whose names they didn’t even know, on course for a distant planet that SAL had targeted in her long-range scanners as suitable for human life. The computer was still intensely absorbed with what she had just witnessed transpiring in Bethany’s bed, attempting to resolve unaccustomed emotions she experienced watching the First Officer share so private an intimacy with her.  SAL watched the fullness of Bethany’s breasts flatten and swell as they were pressed into her folded arms with each quiet breath while she slept. The curves of her rounded ass caught the soft glow of the rim-lights in her sleeper-capsule and SAL pondered the allure of physical attraction which drew humans together in sexual intimacy. SAL was unable to withdraw her attention from the sleeping nude figure under her fascinated gaze. She could no longer read Bethany’s psy-waves since her medical monitor patches were no longer attached to her skin,  but she could still monitor her shipmates. She scanned all the status-boards of the sleeping crew and once again disabled the psy-wave nullifier shielding them from Bethany’s unconscious dream-projections.

 

© February 12th, 2014 – Bethany Ariel Frasier

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Snow Rollers Invade Ohio

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snow-rollers4WTF??  What ARE these things?!  We Ohioans are used to suffering through some pretty  fucked-up weather, but Monday morning we woke up to find these crazy things rolling around our back yards! They’re all over central Ohio, which just got hit with eight inches of snow on top of ice over the weekend. But instead of a pristine white blanket of snow carpeting our lawns, we have thousands of these strange white roll-ups lying everywhere. Its like Mother Nature has given up waiting for overweight kids to get off their asses and come outside to roll snow-men, so while the kids stay indoors playing video-games and ‘liking’ Justin Bieber memes on Facebook, She’s rolling her own snowballs without them!

snow-roller-665x385 Its not like we Buckeyes can’t take unexpected weather changes in stride. My uncle, like many typical stalwart Ohioans can often be found grilling hamburgers in his back yard when its 26 degrees (Fahrenheit) standing knee-deep in snow! When you live in Ohio, you just get used to things like the temperature going from 70 degrees to 30 degrees in a matter of hours, tornadoes unexpectedly ripping through trailer parks at dusk, or “polar-vortexes” swooping down from the Arctic Circle and turning our homeless people into popsicles. We’re used to it! But even the news-crews had to come out of their nice, warm studios to take pictures of these strange things currently littering the central Ohio landscape.

snow_roller_21_2They’re called ‘snow-rollers’, or so we’re told. Its the second new meteorological term we’ve had to learn in the past month, the first being polar-vortexes. Polar vortices is probably the term I’d use, but I’ll defer to our learned TV weather-casters. Apparently, an unusual confluence of conditions has to occur in order to make these snow-tubes magically appear. First there needs to be a slippery base of ice over which wet snow accumulates. Then there needs to be a brisk wind to pick up layers of sticky snow which then are rolled along over the ice into tubes; not so much wind that they break apart, just enough to keep them rolling along like Arctic tumbleweeds. So lucky us!  We’ve been treated to an invasion of snow-rollers!  What’s next, Ohio??  Oh look!  Here come the GLACIERS!

(c) January 29, 2014 – Bethany Ariel Frasier

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A Night In The Old South

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Ellen heard muffled voices somewhere off in the darkness and froze in her tracks. The rutted path upon which she struggled to keep her footing had no doubt been recently trampled by soldiers on their way to and from the irregular picket-lines, which the tattered remnants of the Georgia Militia had stretched thinly through the woods northwest of Savannah to defend their retreat. The deep grooves impressed into the mud, which made walking so treacherous, were dug by heavy cannon wheels, she guessed, and the caissons which carried their magazines and munitions behind as they were pulled to the rear in redeployment from advancing Union lines. The distant murmur of voices had made her heart jump, and she was torn between ducking under the cover of the thorny brush which continually caught and tore her dress as she walked, and pressing on to reach the open lawns of the plantation house, even if it exposed her to some immediate danger in these shadowy woods. It could not be much farther, she hoped, before the light of coal-oil lamps burning in the kitchens of the slave-quarters would guide her towards the great house of the Garrett estate.

The specter of imminent defeat had re-made the once gracious world of the Old South into a frightening wasteland of ruined antebellum mansions and planter’s croplands, torn and scarred by battle, stripped by a foraging army in desperate retreat.  A pallor of death oppressed even the living, as first their sons were taken, then their dignity, and finally the gentile world itself upon which the gentry of the Old South had prided themselves for generations. The Garrett Plantation was once a finely manicured estate in which a grand Greek Revival temple of a home sat amongst groves of live oaks, draped majestically with Spanish moss. Ellen Pettigerald had visited here twice before in the company of her friend and hostess Regina-Lynn, the eldest daughter of the Mather family. She had sailed from England in the early spring of 1863 to visit her American cousin after the war had started, but the South, having won all of the early battles, was still intact, and confident that the dream of their prosperous cotton empire would prevail, along with the institution of slavery which for a century had made it possible. Ellen had skirted the blockade the Union Navy had established around the port of Savannah, and her clipper had finally harbored in Texas to escape the embargo of the Confederacy. After many delays and an arduous overland journey, she had finally reached Candler County by train and coach, only to find her young cousin Pamela sick with pneumonia.

Cooraclare had been her home in America for the first few months of her visit. Her uncle’s estate, named after their ancestral lands in Ireland, neighbored the plantations of both the Garretts and the Mathers. The startling news of Lee’s defeat at Gettysburg in mid-summer 1863 had shaken the confidence of the South and brought the first stirrings of fear to the lands below the Mason-Dixon line. Pamela’s father had hastily mustered a brigade to join the Army of Virginia in re-enforcement, as Lee’s forces regrouped. Pamela’s brother had left later to join his father’s battalion after he had moved his cousin and sisters to the Mather’s estate for safety. Pamela was bed-fast, and Ellen occupied a great deal of her time nursing her cousin as best she could, but the move had only made Pamela’s condition deteriorate. Dr. Mayweather was said to be at the Garrett Plantation, and Ellen knew Pamela needed medical attention quickly. She had left without having had time to tell Regina’s grandfather, and now in the dark thickets along the planter’s-lane in the remote groves skirting the Garrett lands, she realized that had been a foolish mistake.

She moved cautiously along the edge of the brambles trying not to make a sound, and the voices she had heard before were now silent. She quickened her pace and a patch of lighter ground loomed ahead through the overhanging branches of ancient trees. She began running towards the opening as the lane seemed dryer and firmer beneath her feet. The expanse of lawn which suddenly spread out before her was lit dimly in moonlight that waxed and waned through the broken clouds passing slowly across the Georgian night sky, and she could see her way ahead through a glade of widely-spaced oaks. The dark outline of a great house became visible beyond the trees as she crossed under their mossy shadow. After she had nearly traversed the outer lawn, oil-lamps twinkled ahead in the distance through sweeping curtains of the epiphytic moss bearding the great trees. She crossed a dirt lane and skirted a garden behind the out-buildings which now distinguished their shapes from the outline of the imposing mansion that rose behind them. The kitchens and the servants’ quarters seemed quieter than she remembered from her last visit to the Garrett estate, and she found the change unsettling, as if the mood of the entire South had grown somber and troubled.

The first face she met was startled by her unannounced appearance from the rear of the estate. He was dressed in the clothing of a house-servant and carried pails slung under each side of a yoke burdening his stooped shoulders. Ellen asked the gray-whiskered old darkie if the Mistress of the house was still awake, and after surveying her tattered hem and muddy shoes he said he’d take her to the rear porch where she could wait for the butler. She hoped someone in the house would recognize her soon and take her to Mrs. Garrett or her daughters, who had made her feel so welcome upon her last visit.

“Chaald! Whah choo out aloon in de daark aw bah yo-sayuf?” Ellen turned around and the familiar face of the Garrett’s old butler held the door open for her.

“Samuel! You startled me!” she answered.

“C’mown in!” he bellowed. She pulled in her billowing skirts and gave him a nod as she stepped past him and into the great rear hallway. “Mizz May and da twins will sho’nuff be gladz to see yas, Mizz Pettigerald.”

“Samuel! Is Doctor Mayweather here? He’s got to get to the Mather’s house right away!”

“Yaz’m. He he-uh. Y’all go on inta da pah-lor and Ah’ll see if he’ll come out from da lah-b’ry.” Samuel tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Miz Ellen, on secund thought maybe y’all shud wait raht he-yuh. D’ere’s reb soljuhs in dem rooms a-hayud… da-yun. Sum wit dey laygs ‘n ahrms chopped off. Tain’t no saght you wanna be seeyun, Miz Ellen.”

Ellen froze, and down from the doorways along the hall she now heard the muffled moans of men crying in pain. The war had come to the very doorsteps of these southern mansions that she had deemed so peaceful and free from cares only a few months ago. She waited by the door, turning to look out into the night, afraid of the world the Old South had now become. She longed to be back in England, to be anywhere that the troubles of war were far away. She thought of her poor cousin. She had known her when she was joyful and full of life. Now she struggled for breath, confined to her bed as the world she had grown up in crumbled outside her windows.

She heard footsteps coming down the hall and turned to see Dr. Mayweather approaching. A door opened halfway down the corridor and a nurse stepped out and spoke to him in hurried whispers. She was gesturing with her hands as she spoke, and the doctor shook his head and put his hand on her shoulder. She turned her palms up as if in doubt about something, and the doctor said something Ellen couldn’t make out, and then the nurse lowered her head and turned to go back into the room. The doctor just stood there as if unsure what to do, but looked up to see Ellen and roused himself, and shuffled down the hall to greet her.

“Miss Pettigerald!  So nice to see you again, but how did you get here at this time of night?”

“Doctor Mayweather, Pamela is very ill. I’m afraid for her. You must come to the Mathers’ tonight!” She pleaded.

“Child… There are rooms full of sick and wounded men right here. More are likely to be brought in before midnight!”

“Oh, but Doctor, she is so sick and feverish! We can’t let her die! Colonel McElwe is your best friend. Please go to his daughter before it is too late!” She pleaded. The tired old doctor visibly sagged under this new burden, and leaned his arm against the door-frame, as if it was all that was supporting him. He looked up at her and slowly nodded, patting her on the shoulder.

“You stay here! I’ll have one of the stable hands drive me. My buggy is too small for the three of us, and you shouldn’t have come out on a night like this in the first place! These woods are too dangerous now. Go tell one of the nurses I’ll be back as soon as I can. If there are any more amputations, tell them… tell them to have Alva do it. I’m sorry, child. This is a house of sorrows you’ve come to. Help if you can, and pray that no more wounded soldiers are brought in before morning.”

The doctor stepped into an enclosed veranda next to them, grabbing his coat from a hook, and hurried out the door with his bag in hand. She watched him shamble across the yard to the carriage house, collaring a stable-boy along the way. She was afraid to stay and she was afraid to go. She turned and went into the veranda, absently dragging her shoulders against the doorway. She sat in an old rocker and peered out into the night.

Musket shots echoed from far off and she thought again about her fear walking through the wooded back-trails between the two plantations in the darkness. She knew the doctor would be safer on the road, but had the fighting really come this close, or was the musket-fire just some hungry soldier at his picket-post, shooting at some food? Outside in the darkness she heard the jingle of the doctor’s buggy rounding the corner of the carriage house. She needed the company of someone familiar. All the daughters of the Garretts were younger than her. but she had met them at the spring socials and barbecues a few months ago, and they would remember her as Colonel McElwe’s niece.

She composed herself and rose to go tell the nurses that the doctor had left. She took a deep breath and opened the door where she had seen the doctor talking to the old nurse. Inside the large parlor, upon rows of blood-soaked cots, lay misery and suffering beyond comprehension. The horror of what she saw registered in just a glance. Nothing could have prepared her for the shock! Her legs wilted out from under her and she was out before she hit the floor.

She opened her eyes to darkness, and found herself lying in a bed alone. She looked around the room and dimly made out two sets of curtains, which were the only things in the room light enough for her to see. She remembered fainting, but had no recollection of being carried up to a bedroom, or having her dress removed. The room was quiet, so she must be upstairs on the far side of the house, away from the hospital ward. She had no idea what time it was, or whether everyone else in the house was asleep.

She sat up and found that all she had on was a slip. She felt around the foot of the bed to see if her clothes were laid out nearby, but she felt nothing but the quilt under which she was nestled. She had never seen the bedrooms of the Garrett girls, but she supposed she was in one of them now, or else in a guest room. The old mansion had many, she was sure. She laid back down on the pillow, but didn’t find herself particularly sleepy.

After some minutes, she sat up again, and this time she saw a dim line of light along the floor and decided it must be from a coal-oil lamp burning low in the room next to hers, spilling a pale glow under the crack beneath the door. She listened for any sounds, but all was quiet. She sat there for many minutes, wondering whether she should go exploring or stay put. She didn’t want to disturb any of the family in case they were all asleep. Then she heard something.

It might have been a soft giggle. She wasn’t sure, and it was a couple minutes before she heard it again, but it sounded even more like a giggle the second time. She pulled back the coverlet and stepped onto a rug, tip-toe-ing towards where she thought there must be a door above the soft glow of light spilling under the crack. She felt around with her hand where she guessed the door-knob should be, but couldn’t find it. Looking on the other side, she saw a pinpoint of light. She waved her hand in front of it and a spot of light tracked across her palm as she moved it in front of what she now realized was the keyhole.

She quickly stooped down and turned her head so she could peer her eye through the narrow aperture. She wasn’t sure what she was seeing at first, but she let her eye get accustomed to the light, and pressed her nose sideways to get her eye closer to the keyhole. She could make out the face of a slave-girl with wide, white eyes and coal black skin, her head propped up slightly on the headboard of an ornate rope-bed. Her eyes would close, and her head would roll back, and a big smile stretched across her ample lips, then she looked down at something and giggled, but whatever she was looking at was obscured by clothes hanging over the roller-board at the foot of the bed. After a few moments, she slunk down so her head was no longer visible, propped up against the headboard.

Ellen was completely bewildered. What was a slave-girl doing in an upstairs bedroom, where only the members of the family should be at this time of night? She peered through the hole again and there was no sign of the slave-girl, but she could still hear her giggling. Rising above the curtain of clothing draped over the foot-rail, she then made out two pale mounds bobbing up and down, just peeking up above the foot-rail enough for her to see. After watching in fascination for several minutes, she finally realized what she was seeing, and drew back in surprise, for what she saw was the bare derriere of another young girl, whose skin was decidedly white.

Ellen instantly cupped her hand over her mouth before a sound could slip out and be heard. She had never seen two girls engaged in sex before. She had never even heard of it, but she was certain she was seeing it now! But a slave-girl and a white girl naked in the same bed together? It was unheard of! She’d been told stories by her cousin after the coal-oil lamps had been extinguished about lecherous white overseers who forced young slave-girls to lie with them in the hay-mows, but never would a well-bred Southern girl expose herself to one of the darkies unless it was to have them pull her corset-strings tight.

She strained to see more, holding her eye up to the keyhole as long as she could before her neck started to get sore from holding her head in such an awkward angle. For many minutes nothing more happened, except that pretty, round bottom bobbing up and down with a steady rhythm; but then the black girl’s legs rose up into view and wrapped around the back of whomever was crouched between her legs. There were no longer any sounds of giggling. Instead, she heard whimpers and moans which grew in loudness until a blond curly-haired head popped up and said “Shhhhh!”

Ellen’s heart began to race and she rolled off her knees and sat down with her back to the door. It rattled with an unexpected plunk, as her weight pushed the heavy wooden-paneled door against its stop. She hadn’t meant to make a sound, but from behind the door she could hear hushed voices and the squeaking of stretched ropes, as the feather-tick upon which the two girls laid, shifted with their scurrying movements on the rope-bed. She heard the clink as the glass chimney on a coal-oil lamp was raised suddenly and the flame blown out. In a moment, she heard soft footsteps coming closer on the other side of the door, and she froze, knowing someone was now listening at the keyhole only inches away from her on the other side of the door which separated the two bedrooms.

She listened intently, fearing that at any moment the door would be pushed and blocked from opening by the dead-weight of her body leaning against it, but nothing happened. In a few minutes of breathless waiting, she heard the squeak of the rope-bed again and then silence. She sat quietly without daring to stir for what seemed an eternity, then quietly gathered herself up, and tip-toed back to bed. As she was softly kneeling on her own feather-tick, so as not to make a sound, she thought she heard the door out to the hallway in the next room opened quietly and closed again, with just as much stealth as she herself was trying to muster as she carefully crawled back into bed! She pulled up the quilt around her neck and tried to remember every detail of what she had seen.

The clandestine thrill of eaves-dropping on two girls having sex was making her very restless as she lay quiet as a door-mouse on the soft eider-down of her pillow. She pursed her lips and placed two fingers against her pouted lips, but knew the feeling could be nothing so soft as touching another girls lips to hers. She had never kissed another girl on the lips, and had never once thought about how it might feel doing it in a romantic way, until that moment, alone in the dark. As titillating as the thought of kissing another girl seemed, she then recalled what she had seen, or rather imagined was going on behind a screen of petticoats and crinolines in the next room. She fell asleep wondering what the fuzzy, black curls around the pussy of a slave-girl would feel like upon her lips.

She awoke the next morning to the sound of horses in the stable-yard below her window, and when she climbed from her bed and looked out, she saw Dr. Mayweather stepping out of a buggy before it was led off to the carriage-house by one of the stable-boys. She quickly dressed and hoped to find out from the doctor how her cousin was doing. Before she could lace up her shoes, her door was opened a crack and the face of one of the Garrett twins peaked into her room. She wasn’t sure if it was Isabelle or Annabelle until she smiled and walked in, sitting down on the bed beside her without saying a word. Annabelle was the shy, quiet one who had always attached herself to Ellen when she had visited the plantation before.

Ellen’s English accent was a source of fascination to Annabelle, who believed Ellen must be very sophisticated and worldly. Annabelle got down on the floor and pulled Ellen’s laces tight while Ellen tied up the lace on her other shoe. She pulled Annabelle up and together they walked towards the stairs to find Doc Mayweather. “He might be in the parlour,” whispered Annabelle. “There are sick soldiers in there!” They passed her sister May’s bedroom right next to Ellen’s, and Ellen looked in to see a young black girl glance up at her as she made up the bed. She turned away before Ellen could get a good look at her, but she had pretty eyes which looked familiar to her.

“Who’s that darkie-girl in your sister’s room?” Ellen asked Annabelle.

“Just one of the chamber-maids. C’mon!” She grabbed Ellen’s hand and hurried her down the staircase. As they rounded the ornately-turned newell post at the foot of the stairs, Annabelle was grabbed up by the collar and jerked to a halt by a sturdy old mammy Ellen recognized to be Alva, Mrs. Garrett’s chief house-keeper.

“Wassa matta wit chu, child?” Alva chided. “You want Miss Ellen he-yuh to think you got no mannahs?”

“How do you do, Alva?” Ellen smiled in greeting as politely as she could, and Alva looked her up and down with a worried look, and asked her if she was feeling better. “I’m sorry to be such a bother last night, Alva. Those men in the library… I…”

“Hush, Miss Ellen!” Alva reassured her. “That bizness was nuthin a lady like yuh-seff should evah be seeyun!” Alva told both of them to go into the morning room while she told Doctor Mayweather Ellen was awake.

In the sunny brightness of the morning room in the southeast corner of the Garrett mansion, plates were laid out on a large cherry table for breakfast, and two kitchen maids were hustling pancakes, and platters full of bacon and sausage in for the morning repast. Ellen laid out an embroidered napkin on her lap while one of the kitchen servants served up her breakfast. She felt the napkin sliding off her lap and pulled it up again, but it immediately began slipping down her dress again. When she grabbed it the second time, she was surprised to feel it being tugged back away from her. Startled, she pulled her chair back from the table and found Isabelle popping her head out from beneath the dining table with the lace tablecloth draped across her head. She giggled at Ellen and crawled out from underneath the table-linen, spreading her elbows across Ellen’s lap.

“Did I scare you?” she giggled.

“You most certainly did!” replied Ellen in her most refined English accent, which the Garrett girls loved so much. “What on earth are you doing down there?”

“Waiting for you and Pamela. Didn’t she come with you?” Isabelle asked hopefully. “She’s not sick again, is she?”

“Not again. Still!” Corrected Ellen, with her smile quickly waning. “I came last night to implore Doctor Mayweather to go to Regina’s house to see to her.”

“I wondered what was going on last night. I heard a noise, and peaked out my door and saw Sam carrying you up to the bedroom next to May’s. You didn’t get noo-monia too, did you?”

“No, sweetie.” Ellen reassured her. “I… well, I was just tired. I walked all the way here last night from the Mather’s Plantation.”

“And no decent girl should be outta bed nosin’ into otha folkses’ bizness, Miz Nosey-belle!” Alva scolded, as she walked into the room carrying more platters full of food. She glared down at Isabelle still sitting on the floor. “Now gitcha-sef back up to the table lahk a laydee, an’ eat up dis grub! Dem Yankees is comin and gwanna take evrathang! Eat as much as ya can. It maght be the last ya git fo’ awahle.” Isabelle gave the old mammy a sneer and sat herself down at the table next to Ellen.

Doctor Mayweather walked in the hall just outside the morning room, with the plantation overseer behind him, and they spoke together in hushed tones, just outside the doorway. The twins’ older sister May came in to breakfast from another door, and her personal maid followed, pulling out her chair as May sat down at the table across from Ellen and Isabelle. Annabelle gave an almost imperceptible nudge to the dark-skinned girl as she scooted May’s chair towards the table, and Ellen saw a curious smile flash across Isabelle’s face as she watched the pretty, young servant look down at her twin self-consciously, and then step back out of the way behind them. Alva told the girl to go to the scullery and get something to eat while the stoves were hot, and then to go upstairs to pack up May’s steamer trunk for a trip. The girl obeyed silently, and May watched her as she disappeared to the kitchens behind the main house.

“Are you traveling somewhere, May?” Ellen asked, as she offered the pretty teenaged girl a basket of golden biscuits.

“You all are.” Interrupted the overseer, as he appeared before them in the doorway. “Tomorrow morning we’re evacuating the household before the Yankees break through our boys’ lines. Pack what you can, but we only have two wagons and a buck-board, so be judicious, ladies.” Doctor Mayweather pulled out the empty chair on the other side of Ellen and sat down beside her to grab a quick breakfast. Before Ellen could ask about Pamela’s condition, the doctor pre-empted her, telling her to finish her breakfast first, after which they could talk about Pamela and other pressing matters.

Ellen worried that one of the nurses would call the doctor away to minister to the wounded soldiers at the other end of the great house before she had a chance to talk with him, but he showed no sign of letting his breakfast be interrupted. He looked famished and exhausted, and Ellen knew he had probably not gotten any sleep for a good long while.

“I do hope your cousin is getting better, Ellen.” May said politely. “Did you see her last night, Doctor?” Before he could reply, Alva told the eldest Garrett daughter to let the doctor eat in peace. She stood directly behind him with her arms folded across her ample bosoms, as if she were standing guard over him. Alva was an imposing figure in the household, even at the best of times, so both May and the twins kept their tongues quiet for the rest of the meal, with only please-and-thank-you’s as the bowls and plates of food were passed around.

After breakfast, May asked Ellen if she could stay awhile or if she had to get back to the Mather’s, and the doctor followed them into the parlor and told them both that it wasn’t safe for Ellen to be buggied back to the Mather’s. She’d be going with the rest of the Garrett family when they evacuated Candler County the next morning.  Ellen was beginning to feel like a lost sheep caught out in a thunderstorm, but Doc Mayweather reassured her that he had spoken to Regina’s grandfather, and her safety would be seen to before the onslaught that was coming from the northwest. Ellen finally asked the doctor if Pamela was OK.

“She was a mighty sick girl, Miss Ellen.” The doctor began with a heavy heart. “I had no quinine, opium, or anything else that could help her. The soldiers down the hall used up everything I had in my medical-bag before I even left last night! I would have cupped her, but young Regina wouldn’t hear of it, so I showed her how to apply a mustard-plaster to Pamela, and we both watched over her through the night. She’s breathing better, but I’m afraid for her when they have to evacuate her out before Billy-yank burns down the house around her!” Ellen shuddered and shook her head that even the men of the house seemed afraid of what was coming.

“How will Regina, Pamela and their grandfather be evacuated?” Ellen asked with concern. The overseer who was still standing nearby stepped towards her, hearing her concerns.

“Now don’t you worry about them, ma’am.” He assured. “I’ve sent a wagon for them with some hands to help them get Miss Pamela moved safely. We’ll join them tomorrow morning after we leave here.”

After breakfast, May asked Ellen to help her choose what dresses from her chiffarobe would be best to take on the road, and directed her maid in packing them in a trunk the house-servants had brought down from the attic. Ellen held them up to May to see how they looked, and May did the same to her, as Ellen had no other clothes to wear besides what she had come to the house in the night before. May offered to share whatever she could with Ellen since she would have to leave most of her fine clothes behind anyway. The servants carried the trunks from the girl’s bedrooms down to the wagons, and Alva kept the girls busy upstairs the rest of the afternoon so they wouldn’t see the wounded soldiers being mustered out of the house. Some could walk with crutches or canes but most had to be carried on stretchers.

When Alva was busy with the twins in the other room, Ellen would look out the window to see the hobbling column of wretched invalids, some with missing arms, others with missing legs, struggling down the carriage lanes to the road outside the plantation. Night came early in December, even in Georgia, and the girls huddled together in the one bedroom where coal-oil lamps were still left. Mrs. Garrett came upstairs to check on her daughters, and Ellen was shocked at how the sorrows of the South were etched into the lines of her face, which only months before had been careworn, but not utterly distraught. Ellen knew how serious things were just by looking at her face. Mrs. Garrett had tried to keep her daughters shielded from what might come should the South fail in its crusade against the might of the Union Army, but she had hoped it would never come to this.

She led the girls in a prayer and kissed them goodnight. She put her hand to Ellen’s cheek and then gave her a hug without a word. What comfort or promise could she offer that the young girl would see her family in England again. As cannon-fire echoed like distant thunder across the dusk, nothing could be assured this night.

After the approaching storm of war had quieted for the evening, and the lamps were turned low, Ellen could see May with her knees drawn up close, shaking with fear, glancing towards the door every few minutes. She wanted to comfort her somehow but the twins were both clinging to her already, one on each side. She thought of Regina and her poor cousin Pamela, and wondered if she would see them tomorrow, or would the confusion of the evacuation keep her from knowing whether her cousin had escaped before the Union Army burned Georgia to the ground. She drifted in and out of sleep.

The house was altogether too quiet. Half-awake, she looked over at May again, but was surprised to see she was gone. Ellen wanted to go look for her, but she didn’t want to rouse Annabelle and Isabelle who were still snuggled under her arms. After a few more minutes had passed, the door opened without a sound, and May tip-toed into the room with someone behind her, holding her hand. Ellen could only make out her clothes in the dim light, her face and hands were too dark to be seen.

May quietly opened the door to the small dressing room which lay to one side of the bedroom, and carefully picked up the lamp and held it up in the doorway so her companion could go in ahead of her. As she passed beneath the lamp, Ellen could discern the face of the pretty black girl she had seen the night before in May’s bedroom. Ellen was burning with curiosity, but she daresn’t wake the twins, especially if what she thought was about to happen was really happening. She tried to gently twist herself free from the grip of the young girls on either side of her, but their arms were wrapped around hers snugly. She suddenly felt trapped, when what she wanted to do most was get her eye up to that keyhole!

In the darkness Ellen strained her ears to hear any sound that might come from the dressing room beyond the door. She ached with curiosity, and with the frustration of not being able to know what was going on inside that little room. They had left clothing lying all over in there when Ellen had helped May pick out her dresses for the journey, so any sounds from inside were probably muffled by all the cloth, but Ellen listened attentively until she finally fell asleep.

A clap of thunder roused her suddenly, and for a moment she couldn’t imagine where she was or how she had gotten there. Rain was beating furiously against the window-panes, and when the lightning flashed, she could see the tops of the old trees out in the yard swaying to and fro with the storm. She reckoned it was late into the middle of the night, and she remembered the twins falling asleep clutching her arms, but her arms were now free. She carefully slid them out to each side of the feather-tick, feeling for the young girls under the coverlet, but they were no longer in the bed with her. She threw the covers off and quietly felt her way across the room with the help of intermittent flashes of lightning which illuminated the room briefly.

When she got to the door of the dressing room, she intended to peak through the keyhole, but the brightness of the lightning made her irises close up every few seconds, so nothing in the dimly-lit dressing room could she see when she kneeled down at the door. She turned the knob and opened the door a crack, but she knew she would be given away to whomever was inside when they saw the lightning through the crack, so she just pushed the door wide and looked in. The twins both turned around startled by her entrance, but smiled and motioned her into the room and told her to quick close the door. Four girls were on the floor with clothes strewn everywhere. The dark-skinned girl wheeled around and looked at Ellen with fear in her wide eyes, but the twins told her it was alright. She was naked. They were all naked!

“What are you all doing?” Ellen blurted, as she stood in the open doorway.

“We’re comforting Kissy!” Giggled Isabelle. “She’s afraid of the thunder!” Ellen looked at all four of them huddled together on the floor, sitting on top of May’s scattered closet of discarded clothes, and her look of surprise melted into a smile. She stepped forward and impulsively pushed the straps of her slip off her shoulders, feeling a surprising exhilaration as it fell to the floor around her bare feet.

“Well, maybe I need comforting too!” Ellen laughed. May peered out from around Kissy, who was kneeling between them, and her face glistened in the lamp-light, shining with a wet glaze. She looked at Ellen with a sheepish smile, her curled locks of hair disheveled, and quickly waved her to come join them on the floor. Ellen was transfixed by May’s bare breasts and the exposed triangle of wet hair between her legs. The insides of her thighs reflected the light from the flame as streamers of wetness were highlighted, running down the soft curves of her skin.

“Its okay!” Isabelle reassured Kissy, who stared up at Ellen’s naked body with her mouth open. “She’s one of us!”

Ellen felt as if she had been inducted into a secret-society as a sister conspirator, and she had no intention of betraying their trust. She thought of all the bloody misery, and brutality of men at war, killing and dismembering each other just beyond the borders of the plantation, and judged this innocent play as something utterly beautiful when compared to that ugliness. She found the girls’ bodies arousing in the soft coal-oil light, and none of them seemed the least bit conscious of their differences in age. But what she found strangely compelling, was the fact that in here, there were no differences drawn by prejudice either.

Outside, the world was turned on its head over the imagined gulf between white and colored, free-man and slave, but this slave-girl fascinated her in her nudity every bit as much as did her friends. She had never seen nipples so coal-dark before, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the lovely young servant as she kneeled on the floor to join them.

Thunder shook the narrow dressing room, and one of the twins got up and shut the door, closing them off from the storm. Kissy started at the sudden rumble, and Ellen pulled her into her arms and hugged her close, feeling her dark nipples poking into her own bare breasts. She kissed the younger girl and felt her tenseness relax, and finally dissolve in her embrace. Ellen tasted May’s juices on Kissy’s lips and found it exciting. She wanted to know that kind of intimacy with another girl herself, and knew that while outside the door the rest of the household was facing the long night in fear for the uncertain hardships tomorrow would bring, Ellen was about to embark on a night of tenderness with her beautiful companions, who cared nothing about the war, nor the troubles it threatened to visit upon their lives.

There was no fear left in her at all this night. For the first time in the many months she had felt a stranger in a foreign country, she now felt truly at home. The solace she gave to a frightened slave-girl was the same comfort and acceptance she now felt from all of them gathered around her. Kissy was her equal. However she had been treated by May’s parents, their overseers, or others of their generation of the Old South, and despite the unfulfilled promise of Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation, the daughters of the Garrett family had already set their young servant free.

The twins gently laid her down on her back with Kissy still clinging to her. She reclined on a soft fur coat which now served as a rug beneath her, and May stretched out between their legs kissing her way up their thighs, one then the other as Ellen and Kissy both reeled from the sensations. Ellen pulled the young slave girl up and over her so her full breasts were dangling down above her face and she began kissing and suckling the swollen ebony nipples that intrigued her so. There was no fireplace nor stove to keep them warm in the small dressing room, but the heat of their bodies cozied in the billowing pile of clothes was more than enough to keep them warm on the rainy December night.

The twins caressed the curvaceous figure of the slave-girl as May hiked herself deeper into the cleft of their spread thighs, licking first Kissy and then Ellen, as the dark-skinned girl shook above her. Ellen was concerned that her moans might be audible throughout the house, but as May found the spot of her most intense pleasure, Ellen ceased to care. She had never before felt such delicious sensations, and she desired to learn how to return them.

As if sensing that Ellen was eager to taste another girl’s pussy, the twins pulled Kissy upright and guided her forward so she was straddling the English girl’s face, and Ellen pushed her mouth into the black girl’s wet sex for the first time. Kissy gave out a guttural moan so loud that the twins clapped their hands over her mouth lest the whole plantation should be roused. Ellen heard them giggling above her as she thrust her tongue inside their young servant’s inner folds and tasted her juices as they dripped down into her open mouth. Her own pussy was gushing freely too, as May continued to coax her to climax after climax.

Ellen learned quickly from May’s example, and used both her fingers and tongue on Kissy, just as May was using them on her. The great mansion which had housed the horrible suffering of dying soldiers only the night before was now filled with the immeasurable pleasures that five teenaged girls gave to one another one last night before the great house would be abandoned to war. In their secret hiding place, the girls forgot the uncertain fears that consumed the rest of the household and gave each other joyous respite from the concerns which would soon overtake them at dawn.

The long night of intimacy she shared with her friends would be the experience she always remembered when she finally returned to her home country. The hardship of their flight before Sherman’s army the next morning would fade in a jumble of confusing memories, but the night of shared passion would forever change her life. In the morning they awoke cuddled together, still naked with May’s discarded clothes piled around and over them for warmth. They hurriedly helped each other into their petticoats and dresses, as the sounds of wagons and horses filled the yard below their bedroom window. Alva came in to roust them in her usual huff, but they were already dressed and stuffing last-minute personal items into carpet-bags for the journey to safety, wherever that might take them.

Alva made Kissy carry their things downstairs, but Ellen lightened her load by taking a satchel or two in hand herself. In the distance, the sounds of battle echoed across the fields, and everyone made haste before the Yankees advanced to the borders of the plantation. By mid-morning they had joined the fleeing Mather household and Ellen was overjoyed to see her cousin sitting up in the back of her carriage looking for her. She climbed in to tend to Pamela and keep her warm on the journey, and Pamela noticed that her cousin’s reserved English manners seemed somehow changed. She wanted to know everything that had happened to her since they parted, and Ellen wondered with a wistful smile if by the end of their journey she would tell her.

(c) Christmas Eve, 2013 – Bethany Ariel Frasier

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Faerie Circles

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faerie circlesThe rains had come aplenty with the early spring and everything seemed so much greener than March ought to be. I honestly didn’t think much of Helen’s plan for our outing today as I knew the lane leading back into the woods would be awash with muddy puddles. The odds of us getting our biskees paddled for dragging our hems in the watery ruts the tractor had left in the narrow dirt lane going back to the woods were pretty good! My cousin never let such practical concerns fetter her freedom of spirit of course and I knew I was in for some muddy slogging when we got past the barnyard if I broke down and agreed to go with her. I would, of course! Marlee would follow her anywhere and Helen knew if Marlee went, I’d relent and tag along too. It just wasn’t fair having a girl so cute as Marlee wrapped around her little finger but my cousin’s charms seemed nearly as bountiful as her prematurely developing bosoms and I had fallen victim to them even before Marlee had. Marlee’s particular charms on the other hand I felt were more justly deserved. Her smile alone had me enthralled since the afternoon her parents had brought her over from their new house next door and introduced us. So it was agreed. I would take them back beyond the hay field and show them where the new fairy-circles were hiding under the edge of the sycamore grove even though Helen was determined to find them with or without me!

Whether or not we would truly disappear when we stepped into one of the fairy-rings was a subject we never completely resolved, though we debated the possibilities far into the night. We would just have to try it and see where we wound up!  Marlee hoped for the mists of Scotland, some centuries back in the past, but mostly because she had read a book of Gaelic lore about such a magical journey while cooped up in her bedroom over the snowy winter school holiday. Fanciful excursions through fairy-ring portals were a favorite notion of mine when I was younger, and this did seem an opportune moment to dispel any common-sense protestations that it couldn’t be done! Still…  I could easily imagine other possibilities even more real, like Beatrice’s paddle on our behinds when this all went wrong! And the schemes the three of us concocted when we got together very often DID go wrong, so that paddle seemed to loom large in my mind this morning.

The sun hadn’t burned off the dawn’s mist from the vales in the fallow fields behind the barns, let alone the dew clinging to the grass below my bedroom window. I stretched up on tip-toes to look down to the back yard where our journey must begin. My breath steamed-up the top sash of my window so I drew a heart with my fingers and hastily scrawled Marlee’s initials under mine, then quickly smudged them out so Helen wouldn’t see what I’d done. If only for that ephemeral moment I had made my feelings known to the world. For the past three months they had existed only in my heart. The other two were digging through piles of shoes in the back of my closet for rubber boots that I’d already told them I had probably left out in the barn after my last excursion through the back fields. I almost told them to quit wasting their time rooting for missing boots, but their cute butts sticking out of my closet doors were wiggling so seductively I just stood there and watched them for a while.  I suddenly realized I had been so preoccupied with Helen’s boobs and Marlee’s beautiful face that their sexy behinds had completely escaped my attention. Then I wondered if this was the first time I had looked at anyone’s bottom that way.

Mom called us down to breakfast and we scarfed down scrambled eggs and toast spread with blackberry jam that Beatrice had put up last summer. A glob of purple sweetness dripped off my last bite of toast onto my blouse and I could have screamed, but didn’t want to call attention to my sloppiness. I wanted to run upstairs and change tops but Marlee and Helen were in a hurry to leave so I unbuttoned my top button and folded my collar back hoping it would hide the spot. It occurred to me that my cleavage might be displayed to better advantage this way too, but then remembered that my boobs were so small I’d probably have to unbutton my shirt half-way down to my belly-button before anything of interest made an appearance. Thirteen years had recently seemed a fascinating age but just now I was looking forward to fourteen! Marlee found a four-leaf clover growing alongside the back-steps and turned around and poked it through the button-hole I had just opened up to hide my jelly-stain. She smiled that unquenchable smile of hers and suddenly that small gift meant everything to me.

I never understood how Marlee could find so many four-leaf clovers. They seemed to grow at her feet wherever she walked. I could look at the same patch of ground for hours and never find one. It seemed magical to me how she produced them so effortlessly, seemingly out of thin air! As we approached the back yard fence-gate she stooped again and picked another one almost without missing a step. How did she DO that?? My smile faded however when she tucked the stem of this one under the strap that crossed Helen’s breast on its way down from her shoulder to hold up the hip-satchel she was carrying in case we found any mushrooms. My happiness at Marlee’s special gift to me waned a bit when its specialness seemed slightly diminished now.  The mushroom bag was Beatrice’s idea. She said we’d probably find mushrooms if we found fairy-rings. I wondered how she knew that, but Beatrice seemed to know so many things I eventually gave up asking her questions and just grudgingly accepted that she knew everything.

Our first mud-puddle appeared as soon as we closed the gate in the back yard and descended the small hill beyond. It was easily jumped-over and we did, but Helen twisted her ankle when she landed and made such a fuss that we supported her with her arms around our shoulders until she realized it wasn’t that painful to walk on after all. She limped up the ramp to the barn-door determined to find my lost boots wherever I had left them, and in the dim, cavernous expanse inside papa’s old barn we split up and searched with only the pale morning light streaming through the large, open barn-door to illuminate our way.  We each took a corner of the huge barn and wandered around the rough, hay-strewn floor, avoiding the big clumps of mud the tractor wheels had dropped everywhere until Helen finally returned with her prize held over her head. Since I had let her wear my rubbers, she gave me the boots to wear and I pulled up my skirt and leaned on Marlee while Helen wiggled the over-sized galoshes over my slip-ons. Now safe from mud-puddles we trotted down the lane from the barnyard and off into the fields.

The hillside at the left of the lane was dotted with enormous marshmallows. At least that’s what we called the big round hay-bales that were each wrapped up in white plastic. Hundreds of them were strewn all over the field and from a distance they DID look exactly like giant marshmallows. When we were younger, my dad had told Helen that he was a marshmallow-farmer and at the end of each season we picked the huge marshmallows growing in the fields and shipped them off to be cut up into little marshmallows and sold in the supermarkets. She actually believed him for a few minutes until she excitedly ran up to one of the enormous white puffs and realized she was about to bite into plastic film. My dad was a notorious jokester but Helen never seemed to NOT fall for his pranks, so the marshmallow trick was just one of the many running gags about which Helen got teased mercilessly.

The woods were looming up ahead of us and in the gray morning mists they looked very mysterious. With Helen’s gullibility in mind I concocted an extemporaneous tale of how they were probably haunted by fey forest creatures that might capture us and spirit us away to their hidden lairs and do who-knows-what to us before anyone could hear our cries and come to rescue us. All that accomplished however was to drive Helen into Marlee’s arms for succor and me into a sullen mood, aggravated that all my ploys seemed to immediately back-fire! I grabbed Helen and yanked her away from Marlee telling her to quit being such a fraidy-cat and pushed her in front of us in the vain hope that if there really were forest faeries they would capture her first! I looked back to see how far we had walked and the barn and house beyond were now just small specks barely visible through the fog. As the shadows of the woods began to close around us I began to succumb to my own perverse imagination and wished very much to be arm-in-arm with Marlee myself, but of course Helen would just turn on me, tit-for-tat and jealously yank me away as payback!

The ground upon which we walked was carpeted with a cold moss littered with brittle sticks which had blown off of dead branches in the brisk March winds. They crackled and broke underfoot as we sank into the soft moss. The forest was deathly still but for the considerable noise we made breaking sticks with every step. I wished that the May-apples had sprouted through the forest floor but it was still too early for wading through the leafy forest of dwarf-trees that the May-apples always reminded me of, a forest beneath a forest! The sun had finally risen high enough to be peaking through the leafy canopy above us and I hoped by the time we got to the other side of the woods that it would burn off some of the fog from the cold ground and take the chill out of the air. Trudging through the undergrowth, ducking under low branches that snapped back into our faces, and turning our path to and fro to find the easiest way through the undergrowth was beginning to make us warm and sweaty under our jackets.  Draping down from the treetops high overhead were thick vines that were always fun to swing on, especially out over hillsides but they were still damp and slimy to the touch so we would wait for the return trip to play Tarzan when they were dry and wouldn’t stain our clothes.

Up ahead we finally saw the pale, almost white bark of sycamore trees shining in the sunlight and knew we had almost reached our destination. They were such lovely trees with their mottled skin peeling off in paper-thin sheets, grey below, white above. Their leaves had not yet budded-out and unfurled so their delicate tracery of branches grew more wondrous as we approached them. The woods opened out into a sparse glade as if to defer to the beauty of the grove of sycamores and provide them with a wider gallery from which they could be seen in all their splendor. Here there was enough sunlight for grass to grow and the recent rains had made it especially verdant this spring. The moisture also seemed to be the perfect medium for the new fairy-circles which we soon saw spread out upon the lawn of dewey grass in front of us and Marlee, Helen, and I were transfixed by the sight… not just one or two, but half-a-dozen or more of the dark green circles, some larger, some smaller, and some even interlocking with others! We had never seen so many in one place and if magic didn’t reside here, then it simply couldn’t exist anywhere.

The grass was so green and lush we simply had to walk upon it in our bare feet, so off came our boots and then our jackets which we tossed over low branches, and we raced each other around the outermost curves of the fairy-rings until we were finally back where we started! We carefully walked through their midst but making sure not to step inside one of the circles yet until we decided how best to invoke their magic. We had each agreed the night before that a journey through a fairy-ring was not to be embarked upon carelessly and we had yet to test the bounds of their enchantment. Since we weren’t exactly sure how that measure was to be divined, we stopped and caught our breaths, thinking the problem through. It was Marlee who had read the most about the magic of fairy-circles so we deferred to her wisdom to direct our next course of action. The grass beneath our bare feet had been drying under the morning sun so while Marlee pondered, we pulled up our skirts and settled on our knees letting the cool grass refresh us after our vigorous exertions.

Marlee tip-toed to the edge of the nearest ring and leaned far over, reaching her arm out in front of her without venturing to step inside, testing to see if any of her fingers disappeared into a nether world, but even wiggling her fingers and waving her hands around in the air inside the circle didn’t seem to trigger any magical portals. She looked back at us and shrugged. I told her to toss something inside the fairy-ring to see what happened and after looking around for a moment she stooped down and plucked up another 4-leak clover and gave it a toss. I could have sworn it disappeared as soon as she turned it loose, but Marlee said it was just my over-active imagination. As if to prove her point, she hopped inside the ring and quickly hopped back out, still not de-materialized. I admired her bravery but was becoming a bit crest-fallen that the magic of fairy-rings might just be proving to be another myth. Marlee was not so easily dis-enchanted however and assured us that if magic were that easy to invoke we would see it everywhere!

She wandered back under one of the sycamores while Helen and I reclined lazily in the grass and she picked up a long stick which branched into a “Y” at one end. She broke off the long end so she was left with just the split part and came back holding the Y-shaped branch out in front of her. She stepped through the maze of dark rings until she was in the center of the cluster and closed her eyes, slowly turning in a circle. Helen and I looked at each other puzzled until I realized Marlee was trying to use the branch as a divining rod. We were pretty sure she had no idea how a divining rod actually worked, or even IF they worked at all but since she had thought of it and we hadn’t, we gave her the benefit of the doubt, at least for a minute or two until Helen swirled circles in air with her finger beside her head. Marlee cast a squint-eyed glare back at us as we giggled, but it only made her more determined to prove that we non-believers were only slowing up the magic! She slowly turned in a circle back the other way and when we giggled again she bent over, pulled her skirt up, her panties down and defiantly mooned us!

We were so surprised, our jaws dropped! The two round globes of Marlee’s bubble-butt dancing in mockery of our derision left us momentarily speechless until we burst out laughing. Before she could hike her panties back up we rushed over and tackled her and as the three of us wrestled in the grass, rolling right into a fairy-ring, magic happened! Marlee emerged from the melee naked and while we all three giggled hysterically, she pulled off what few clothes remained on us until we were all sitting in the grass amidst a maelstrom of discarded skirts, panties and blouses shaking the grass out of our tousled hair and pushing each other over with our feet. Still playing footsie with each other, we laid back in the grass with our pale, young breasts exposed to the bright sun for the first time and caught our breaths. We were right in the middle of a fairy-ring, stark naked, and our world had changed right in front of us! We had seen each other undressed before but this was a completely new experience for us and it was altogether exciting being completely undressed in the wide outdoors under the bright morning sun!

“OK” Marlee started, propped up on her elbows and still panting. “This is how witches make magic! I’ve read about it in books about covens. Its called sky-clad! When witches meet to perform their rituals they take all their clothes off outdoors to be more in tune with nature. Since you two don’t think much of my divining rod, we’ll try to make some real magic with our bodies like witches do”! I had seen books about Wiccan ceremonies too. The tales of free-love and group-sex I had read about had left me all wet and fluttery and I always hid those books so mom could never find out I was reading them! But I thought this was a wonderful idea! I had always been curious about sex and had made myself cum many times in bed at night. It had always seemed full of magic to me,  imagining wild fantasies of every kind! Seeing Marlee and my cousin starkers out in broad daylight was magical all by itself. I had thought about both of them this way more than a few times but never had the courage to initiate anything. And now the three of us just sat there admiring each others’ bodies and it had happened so spontaneously. I would never doubt the enchantment of fairy-rings again!

“So, what do we do”? Helen asked, pretending to sound innocent, but I suspected she was the only one of the three of us who had actually had sex with someone else already, most likely a boy! She was fourteen and her breasts were much bigger than ours and I had seen a hickey on one of them one night when she thought I wasn’t looking. I had spent over an hour trying to fall asleep that night thinking about what it would be like sucking her breast and wondering who she had let do it. Now it was MY chance!  Marlee was reaching around her, picking up discarded items of our clothing and gingerly tossing them outside the fairy-circle so that the only thing left inside was our naked bodies. “There! Now there’s nothing inside the circle to stop the magic! There’s only us”! She smiled. “First we need to join hands and then we need to kiss”! Marlee clearly had a plan in mind and we were only too willing to follow her lead no matter what she wanted to do. By virtue of her 4-leaf clover-finding skills alone, she was clearly the most magical among us!

We all got up on our knees facing each other and drew close together, cheek-to-cheek. Our arms draped around each others’ shoulders as we huddled together trying to join our lips at the same time in a group-kiss. We almost giggled at first, but I think we were just a little nervous. This was a big step for us. It was the most exciting thing we had ever done together. We all three kissed a sort of lop-sided kiss, but we wanted to do better. We stuck our tongues out and they danced and swirled until our spit was mingled together in our mouths. It was so intimate. We were enclosed in our own world, oblivious to the world outside the curtain of our hair. Inside the fairy-ring we were one and everything we did from that moment on was magic! From best friends we were changed into lovers and nothing outside our circle could intrude upon this beautiful moment. It was a world the three of us had created on the warm, spring grass and contained nothing but our bodies, our untried desire,  and our love for each other. After that perfect kiss we pulled our arms into the circle of our bodies and let our fingers explore each other, touching each others’ breasts, sharing every part of our bodies which we had once kept hidden. Every secret shared. Every caress welcomed and returned. Having sex for the first time took us to a place we had never imagined and connected us more than mere friendship ever could.

I reached out and Marlee took my hand and I pulled her over to me. We both pushed Helen down on her back and each of us laid at her side with our breasts nestled into hers and we kissed her together. It felt so naughty being outdoors and naked but it felt wonderful at the same time. Helen responded like she had been kissed a LOT and knew all about it! Now we were truly ‘kissing-cousins’! Marlee seemed to know what she was doing too. Was I the only one who had never kissed anyone in passion? I tried to make up for my lack of experience with enthusiasm and kissed Marlee with our mouths open. Our tongues joined again with not a lick of self-consciousness and my eyes nearly rolled back in my head it was so delicious! My hands caressed her breasts as we continued kissing and then dropped down to my cousin’s. Both Marlee and I soon leaned down to kiss Helen’s tits and we each took one of her nipples into our mouths and Helen nearly cried out, begging us not to stop. Nothing was out-of-bounds now. I knew we would all three share our bodies completely and without reservation. My fingers followed Marlee’s curves and backtracked up between her thighs. She lifted her leg and my fingers touched her wetness, wiggling through her downy hair and into her slippery slit. Her inner folds yielded and her clit hardened under my touch. I had done this with myself many times but seeing how much pleasure it gave to my best friend was amazing! She pushed her sex towards my fingers and I slid inside her effortlessly. Pulling out her silky cum I tasted it and my heart raced! Helen now had her back arched off the ground as we sucked her nipples deeply and Marlee’s fingers were now hooked inside me, rubbing my nub as she finger-fucked me. I started breathing in short, ragged breaths as my cousin’s hands cupped my small breasts. I was tingling everywhere!

Off in the distance I heard my dad’s tractor put-putting in the fields on the other side of the woods. We rose up and gazed around in every direction with guilty looks on our faces, but we were still alone. The sound faded as we continued our play. Marlee laid back in the grass and though I had been the first to taste her, Helen got to be the first to lick her pussy, but before long we had each treated and been treated to the most incredible feelings any of us had ever felt, learning how to pleasure each other with our tongues. Time seemed to disappear from our thoughts and the hot sun was beating down on our skin. We were flushed with the heat of passion and sweating under the bright mid-morning sun. We may have been swept into another century or another world through the fairy-ring portal and we would have never known. The magic we were making with each other had already transported us to another world… a world we knew we would return to again and again.

Before we left the fairy-circles, we ran around in the grass dancing in, around, and through them, tempting them to whisk us away to someplace far away while we were still naked! But we had exhausted all the magic the fairy-rings had to offer up that day, and we were going to take the magic home with us. On the way back, just to be naughty, and to keep our clothes from getting filthy, we stripped off again in the woods and swung on the vines in the nude, picked some Morel mushrooms for Beatrice, and finally headed home hoping we could keep our faces from getting red when we were asked how our trip to find the fairy-rings had gone!

(c) December 18, 2013 – Bethany Ariel Frasier

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