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Old 03-06-2017, 01:07 PM
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Default Rumspringa and the Nymph

The air was still, the night was black. Emma’s plain black dress and oversized prayer cap cloaked her dainty body. She shuffled her feet along the desolate road, nudging loose dirt before plopping herself to the ground. Her dress bellowed momentarily, exposing her sock-covered shins. Above her hovered a wooden sign with hand-carved lettering welcoming travelers to town. She didn’t mind to read the sign. It might as well said, “Nowhere." She dropped her knapsack to her side and whimpered. Her lips pursed and a breath of exasperation warmed her contorted wispy fingers. She rubbed her hands together, then placed them under her arms. She was losing hope.

It was the edge of dawn, when the night was the darkest. Emma watched between shivers as the veil of night lifted over the next hour. Her tiny body struggled to stay warm, though her arms and legs wrapped her tightly. The sun finally peeked above an expansive field of flowering wheat and tinged it with it’s golden yellow hue. Normally at this time of year Emma often found herself stripping those flowers from the wheat- collecting them by the fists-full- and tossing them throughout town. Her father, however, was far less amused. After witnessing her supposedly innocent act, he dragged her to the center of the village and forcefully cropped her hair to the shoulder.

“Those flowers,” he explained, “are for pollinating the wheat!” His punishment went to far. After that, no one talked to her, though she begged. She only intended to spread beauty to the world, but instead she received scorn. Isolated from the rest of the community, she’d daze off about the English, the strange people from the outside with their large trucks and fast-paced music.

Emma ruminated about the English and their supposedly wicked ways. She knew little about them first-hand, but from what she heard through stories and gleaned from objects brought back, the outside world sounded dangerous- a place where it was easy to be taken advantage of. But it also seemed intriguing, where the people had no shame and would indulge in every beauty the world had to offer. That part, at least, allured Emma. The English, she figured, would be different. The English would understand her.

Emma often played, “English,” in the barn, hidden behind stacks of hay. There she would act out and speak in a way she thought the English would. She would practice pouting her lips, striking glamorous poses, and tilting her head forward with intense, sultry eyes, pressing a makeshift cigarette holder between her fingers, as she had seen in the magazines, and all in front of the full-length mirror she had dragged from her mother’s old room. She would roll her dress indecently high, exposing her long silky legs, and would remove her prayer cap. Emma exhilarated in showing off her beautiful legs and long hair, and couldn’t wait to show off her beauty to those that could perhaps appreciate it. One day she would visit the outside world, and when she did she resolved to fit in. Her favorite object from the English, however, had to be that particular magazine.

Oh, that magazine! That magazine was different from the others see had seen. Emma reached into her burlap knapsack, slowly pushing her fingers through, until her fingers pressed against the smooth glossy cover of a magazine she had once found sitting on the nightstand of her brother’s room. She almost forgot she packed it. She ran her fingers across the cover, then plucked it from her sack. This was why she was here, plopped next to an empty road in the chilling cold. This is what she sought.

Emma flipped through the pages and felt her body quiver, a sensation she could hardly explain. The women in the magazine wore skimpy clothes and huge grins. They put their whole bodies on display and they seemed happy. That’s what she wanted for herself, a reason to smile again. She turned to one of the first pages. On it stood a woman in a black dress, similar to Emma’s, but much shorter, with her hand pressed against a man’s hairless chest. The woman clearly took control. Emma’s eyes followed the woman’s long slender legs to the woman’s plump ass, just barely covered by the skirt. Emma felt her heart palpitate and her legs tingle. It was so raw, but so beautiful. And just out there for the whole world to see. Emma flipped through the pages and watched as the woman slowly shared all of her beauty with the bare-chested man. Emma decided that she, too, wanted to share her beauty with the world just like the woman in the magazine, father be damned!

She stood up in a moment of defiance. She clasped at the side of her dress with both hands and pulled the threads apart. Her nose wrinkled and her lips curled. The crisp sound of tearing fabric caused her heart to beat even harder. With each tear she could feel her knees weaken. To her it was the sound of freedom. With the final thread split, she felt the cold rush of air between her thighs. She dropped the fabric to the ground and kicked it angrily to the side. She glared at the limp pile of dirty fabric with little to say for itself, but quickly switched her attention to her work of art. The tear wasn’t even, and perhaps even shorter than the woman’s in the magazine, but that didn’t matter. She smiled to herself and for the first time in her life felt like her own woman.

In her excitement, Emma then ripped her sleeves off and used one as a belt, wrapping it around her willowy waist and tying it behind her back. She took off her heavy shoes and socks, and then reached for her head covering, but stopped. Her father had cut her hair and it was no longer as long and as lustrous as it once was. Her cheeks burned red. She couldn’t completely escape.

She glossed over that thought and instead preoccupied herself with her newfound freedom. She pranced with bare feet on the tips of her toes, imagining herself in high heels. She twirled and felt the dress catch the wind, lifting up so the cold breeze brushed against her underside. She felt so exposed, but so free. The cool dirt would slip between her toes. She struck several poses from the magazine, showing off her half-exposed ass, her long, soft legs, and her arched back that protruded her budding breasts as far as they could go. She would pout her lips and give puppy dog eyes to an imaginary camera.

She grabbed the magazine again for further inspiration. She flipped through a few more pages and noticed the woman had removed her undergarment. She loved the way the bare-chested man begged the woman in the magazine with his eyes. Emma blushed momentarily, but the woman’s smile was too intoxicating. She wanted that. With hesitation Emma reached under the remnant of her skirt and wiggled her hips as she glided her fingers down, removing the last bit of fabric that hid her innocence from the world. She slipped it over one bare foot, then the other. She held it up and stared at it curiously. A large wet spot appeared in the middle, but where did that come from?

Her eyes switched to the road. Something was moving. A faint humming from the distance accompanied her panting. She didn’t know what to do. Two glowing orbs approached. She was scared, nervous, excited. The humming turned to a roar, the faint spec in the distant grew to a mechanical beast! Flustered, she threw the magazine back into her knapsack and stood back up. Regaining a bit of shame, she tried awkwardly to cover her bare legs by pulling the front of her shortened dress down with both hands, but only managed to expose even more from behind. The oversized truck blared it’s horns, startling the girl and rousing her into action. This is what she wanted. This is what she was waiting for. She began hopping, her skirt following with her, and flailing her arms as the truck barreled past. The air brakes hissed and the beast screeched to a halt. She stared at the large truck just down the road in disbelief. Success.

Emma assembled her scant possessions and raced to the truck. As she approached, the door propped opened. She slowed her pace and cautiously climbed the side of the truck, displaying her innocence for the world to see-- if anyone were around to witness. Her head poked past the chair and she observed her savior, an older man sporting red hair, light scruff, big burly arms and a ponch to his stomach.

“Hello...” Emma spoke softly.

“Get in the truck,” the driver responded. He had a disinterested stare, like he was analyzing her, trying to figure out her story. Her once conservative outfit was all torn up. He didn’t know what to make of it, though.

She dropped her knapsack onto the floor in front of the passenger seat and climbed onto the chair, bare ass pressing against the leather. The girl felt the heater blow warm air into her face. Her adrenaline remained high, but for a moment she felt relaxed.

“C’mon, close the door,” he spoke, still trying to get a sense of her. Her legs were naked. Her dress draped so feebly he could see the curve of her buttock against the seat. Her situation remained a mystery, but the smell that was filling the cabin partly gave her away.

Emma, noticing his gaze, reserved herself, holding her hands to her knees and squeezing them together. She turned to the hefty door. She reached so far her body tilted. The driver immediately noticed a lack of undergarment under the girl’s dress. Emma meekly shut the door, the driver hit the gas, and the truck roared back onto the road.

“Where are you heading?” the driver asked.

“Into town,” the girl eventually responded.

“Well this isn’t the way to town, you know? I’ll let you off at the next busy road.”

“No, no, no! Um, wherever you’re going is fine," she quickly answered back. She refused to go through that whole ordeal again. He seemed safe. He seemed kind. She looked up at the man, inspecting his legs, his chest, his face, until her eyes met his. She blushed and turned her eyes to her fidgeting fingers.

The driver raised one eyebrow and gave her a curious look. “All right.”

She looked again, but from the corner of her eye, and gave a little smile. The driver reminded her a bit of her father, but with much less facial hair and red hair instead of white. He dressed differently as well . He wore a red stripped shirt. Her father only ever wore black.

From there they rode silently, both staring ahead into the distance. Emma would steal a few glances at the driver; He would roam his eyes across her naked legs. Eventually Emma’s whole body acclimated to the warm cabin heat and she began to relax, letting her thighs separate a bit and her arms fall to her lap. She rested her head back into her chair and smiled to herself.

The driver looked the girl over. “Brook,” he half grunted.

The girl shot him a confused glance. “Pardon me?”

“That’s my name, Brook,” responded the driver.

“Oh.” She smiled. “Emma.”

“Well, Emma, you look a bit young to be traveling alone. How old are you?” Brook inquired.

Emma sat there shocked, but didn’t have a good answer. “I’m old enough!” she responded, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, okay, well I’m heading in to Ohio,” Brook shared.

“That is fine,” Emma spoke, “I will go there with you. What will we do there?” Her naivety was fully exposed.

“I’ll take you as far as the border, but if you would like to go further, you’ll have to pay. No ride is free.” Brooks face was expressionless as he spoke, his eyes trained toward the road. Emma was a bit confused, and began to think what she may have in her knapsack that she could use to barter. She grabbed her knapsack and placed it between her thighs, rummaging for anything to give.

“I have a slice of pie I baked. It is all yours, if you like.” She unwrapped the cloth-covered slice of shoofly pie and offered it to Brook. He looked at it through the corner of his eyes and then looked back to the road.

“Actually, I was thinking of something more, well, personal,” he spoke.

“Personal?” she inquired, unsure what he could possibly mean.

“Well do you want to go to Ohio with me or not?” he asked. She thought about it for a second, trying to understand the conversation.

“Yes, I very much do. But what personal thing could I offer you.”

“Here,” Brook responded, ready to be more explicit and cut the confusion. “Let me show you,” He steered with his left hand while reaching down with his right. He shuffled his fingers about until his pants made a zipping sound. He reached further down and within a moment produced something she was only familiar with from her magazine. She sat there shocked he so willingly shared his beauty with her having only just met her moments ago. In her town that was taboo.
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Old 03-06-2017, 01:11 PM
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Emma was giddy with joy and knew exactly what to do. She fumbled in her chair until she rested on all fours facing Brook with an open-mouth smile. Brook was surprised at her willingness, but just stared at her from the corner of his eyes. Emma began striking the many sexy poses she practiced repeatedly back in her barn. Her poses started as teases: crossed legs and pouty lips; biting her lips while squeezing her tiny breasts together with her arms; kneeling on her chair with bunny paw hands, puppy dog eyes, and duck lips. But as she floundered about, she started noticing what Brook was responding to. Whenever her skirt flipped up as she positioned herself, she would see his eyes widen and his lips curl in. She started striking more suggestive poses: standing between the two cabin seats and lifting her already obscenely short skirt ever higher, exposing her leg all the way to her hip; kneeling on the chair while leaning back, causing her dress to ride up just enough to show where her two thighs met; and finally escalating to her on all fours, face pressed against the seat of the chair as her ass pointed upward, while looking back with her, “oops,” face.

Emma watched Brook grind his hips into his chair and his face contort. His shoulders hunched over like he was restraining himself. Despite not being completely clear about the situation, Emma reveled in the tension she could feel building between her and Brook. She looked down at Brooks rod, standing as forthright as ever through his pants zipper. Forming at the tip was a bead of morning dew. She studied it curiously, then look at Brooks begging eyes.

“Can I touch it?” Emma spoke softly, then looked down shyly.

Brook thought she would never ask. “Yes, of course. I brought it out for you.”

Emma almost leapt out of her chair, a giant grin stretched across her face. She clapped her hands and let out a squeal of excitement.
“Wait, wait, not too rough!”

Emma froze in mid-clap for a moment, processing what he had said. She looked at Brook, she looked at his protruding member, then gave a devilish grin and and giggled to herself. “Hehehe, okay!” She stepped from her seat and kneeled beside Brook’s, trying with each moment to slow herself down and contain her enthusiasm. Up close, it towered over her. Brook struggled to keep his eyes on the road as he watched Emma with intense interest. She reached out her hand and traced the engorged veins twisting and knotting around the shaft. Brooks legs twitched as her fingers found the curve of the bell and rubbed underneath. Finally her fingers made their way to the clear liquid bead resting so delicately on the very tip. She took her pointing finger and placed it atop the dew drop, deforming it so it wrapped around her finger tip. She lifted her finger and watched curiously as a stream of semi-sticky liquid continued to connect her to Brook. At this point Brook could hardly contain himself and he shivered with anticipation.

Emma grabbed Brooks rod in her soft, warm hands and again, starting striking poses she saw acted out in her magazine. She placed his rod across her face, demonstrating its size; She pressed her lips together and kissed the tip, dragging a stream of dew as she pulled her lips away; and finally she shoved it into one side of her mouth like a cigar so it puffed up her other check; and all while maintaining the biggest grin Brook had ever seen. He could tell she loved what she was doing and that only served to further harden his already solid excitement.

Emma had not had so much fun since she could remember. Everything she had hoped about the English turned out true. They were ready to embrace her beauty, and she was more than willing to embrace theirs. She shoved his beauty in her mouth and pushed her face down as deep as she could go, clamped her lips tight, and dragged her whole head back until her lips made a popping sound and his manhood bounced back covered in Emma’s saliva, glistening beautiful in that morning sun. Brook let out a moan of satisfaction.

Emma climbed back onto her chair and giggled shyly.

“Was that right? Did you like my beauty?” She asked. She looked up at Brook. He panted heavily, but he furrowed his brow and his lips quivered with frustration.

“Uh, yes, I very much loved your beauty, Emma,” Brook started, realizing she was unaware how these things work. “But you haven’t finished paying.”

Emma looked stunned. “What do you mean?” she asked inquisitively.

“Don’t get me wrong. What you did was great, but you haven’t finished yet. You see...” Brook wrapped his hand around his protrusion and began bouncing his hand up and down. “You need to milk it,” he said. “You’ll know when you’re done because, well, my milk will squirt out.”

Emma tilted her head in a bit of confusion. She had practiced this moment so many times and now she risked messing everything up. She hesitated for a moment, then reached her hand out, her mouth agape and her eyes uncertain.

“No, no, with your mouth,” Brook continued to instruct. Emma shot him a glance, then looked back down. She climbed from her chair and stood in-between the seats once again. She opened her mouth wide and began to bend over.

“Wait,” Brook interrupted. “Take off your cap.”

Emma shot straight up mortified. She grabbed the back of her cap with both hands and held on to it defensively. What would he think of her short hair? Would he reject her? Would he not talk to her anymore like the others?

“I want to see your hair,” Brook begged. Emma knew she couldn’t keep it a secret forever, but did it have to all unravel so fast? With each reaction, Brook understood the mystery girl a bit more, putting the pieces together. He stretched out his big arm and placed it comfortingly on Emma’s shoulder. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Emma felt slightly comforted, but her anxiety stayed strong. She felt her whole body flush with shame. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and slowly removed her prayer cap. Her short hair untangled and fell to her shoulders. She clasped her prayer cap in front of her and slowly opened her eyes. Her eyes caught the light and shined a luminous green. Her smile turned to a quivering lower lip and her eyes glistened as tears formed at the corners. She saw him staring at her, judging her. He did not move.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” Brook said, finally breaking the silence. Emma was taken aback. She interrogated him with her piercing eyes, but his eyes just continued to beg for her. A smile expanded across her entire face as she leapt up and hugged Brook as hard as she could. He did not see her shame; He only saw her beauty. She immediately dropped to her knees, took everything he had to offer in her mouth, and bounced her head up and down. Soon enough his hips tightened. She felt him twitching in her mouth, then streams of a thick liquid coated the back of her throat. Her mouth filled with this sweet yet musky milk until her cheeks bowled out like a chipmunk. Emma clamped her lips as tight as possible, but some of this newfound ambrosia slipped from the corners of her mouth and slid down her chin. The deluge eventually stopped and his engorged rod shrank to a twig. Emma pulled her head back until his member plopped out. She fell back and held her head up, unsure of what to do but not wanting to lose a drop.

“Show me,” Brook said. “Open you mouth and show me.”

At this point, Emma put her full faith and trust into Brook. She placed her hands under her chin and opened her mouth. a waterfall of milky fluid flowed out and into her hands. She wiggled her tongue and swished what was left in her mouth from side to side. Her hands couldn’t fully contain the entire puddle she was holding, and some slipped from between her fingers and dripped onto her dress.

“Now swallow,” Brook instructed. Emma obediently followed. She closed her mouth, tilted her head back, and gulped. Brook watched as a lump traveled down her throat, imagining his juice plopping into her stomach. Emma then took her cupped hands full of juice, placed it at her open mouth, and once again tilted her head back and let the liquid slide into her mouth. In three gulps it was mostly gone. Emma pulled her hands from her chin and held them in front of her. She opened and closed her fingers, watching the threads of dew stretch and compress between them. She licked her palms clean and sucked each finger one by one. She held her hands out to Brook, wiggling her fingers to get the last bit of stickiness off. Eventually she wiped the remainder onto her dress, next to drips pooled onto her chest from earlier.

Emma bit her finger while grinning, one shoulder up and swaying side to side.

“That was delicious. What was that?” she asked curiously.

“That,” Brook responded as he slumped back in his chair in ecstacy, “was payment.” His eyes looked into space and his body collapsed in a state of complete relaxation. Never had he came so hard. Their quiet moment of bonding was interrupted, however, by the flash of red and blue lights from behind. Brook hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the rode. They waited. Emma passed Brook a nervous glance, but he just looked back with a sly smile while tucking his beauty back into his pants.

“It was totally worth it,” he said. “You’re so beautiful.”

Emma bashfully turned away, still giddy from her first time truly sharing her beauty.
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Old 03-06-2017, 01:16 PM
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Eventually, from outside the driver-side door, a masculine voice rose up. “License and registration,” it said. The truck was too high for Emma to see what the person looked like. Brook shuffled around until he produced a card and sheet of paper. He handed them to the invisible man. After a moment the voice came again. “ I’m going to have to ask you to step down.”

“What’s the matter, Officer? I was driving under the speed limit,” Brook protested as he pulled the door handle and propped the door ajar. He waited hesitantly.

“Just come down, Brook,” spoke the officer, demonstrating a sense of familiarity. Brook rolled his eyes, but followed through with the command. He stepped down and closed the door behind him. Emma scrambled to the driver seat and peered down below. A tall, muscular man in brown uniform flashed her a glance through dark sunglasses perched on his nose. Emma held in a chuckle at the sight of his clean-shaved face. He looked like a child, she thought. The officer squinted, but after assessing she posed no threat, he brought his attention back to Brook. One by one, the officer gave Brook odd commands that, when Brook followed through with them, made them more confounding. Emma watched Brook touch his nose and count to one hundred. She watched him walk in a straight line. Finally the officer relented on the orders, visibly miffed.

“You’re 100% sober, so what the fuck were you doing swerving all over the road?” the officer chastised. Brook stood silent. “I’m not taking you to jail this time, Brook, so be grateful. But I am writing you another ticket.”

“Wait, wait, wait, Brady,” Brook resisted. “I can’t afford another point to my record, you know that. This here is my living we’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that sad-sap story you always give,” the officer rebutted.

“Look, how about we settle things right now. See that girl right there?” Brook pointed at Emma and Emma quickly ducked behind the door. Brook’s words trailed to whispers. Slowly, Emma peaked over the window again and the officer glanced up. He studied her more closely this time and noticed a flaky substance peeling from Emma’s chin and white stains on her chest. They whispered for a few more moments, and then shook hands approvingly. Emma wondered what all the commotion was about.

“Young lady,” the officer spoke in his deep voice. The officer rested his hands on his belt as Brook took a step aside. “I’m going to ask you to come down.”

Emma paused, unsure of what to do. Was she in trouble?

Almost reading her mind, Brook assured her everything was okay. “You’re not in trouble, Emma. The officer here just found out you’ll be joining me to Ohio and says you need to pay him before you can cross. I told him how beautiful you were and he wanted to know first hand.” Emma blushed and disappeared into the cabin. The officer looked at Brook.

“Sweety,” Brook continued, “I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

The door propped open and a foot stuck out. Then a second as Emma carefully climbed down the side of the truck. The officer was struck with what he saw. Her dress did not cover up her intimate parts at all. He could see the sun glisten from between her legs. Emmas bare feet sunk into the warming dirt and she stood in front of the officer, hand in hand hanging to her front, with her now infamous puppy dog eyes on display.

“She’s absolutely gorgeous,” said the officer.

Brook knelt down before her and whispered in her ear, “Show him how beautiful you truly are.” This put that smile back onto Emma’s face and she felt giddy and warm again. The officer reached out his hand and Emma grabbed hold of it. He slowly walked her along side the truck and around the back so they were hidden from the road.

“Brook told me you had a lot to give, personally,” spoke the officer. he placed his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her down. Emma took the hint and kneeled before his trousers, much like that woman in the magazine. He produced his beauty before her, like Brook had done just minutes before, and Emma could not believe the sheer willingness of the English to share with her their most intimate treasure. She truly must be so beautiful.

Emma stuck out her tongue, pressed it into the tip of the officer’s manhood, and lifted it into her mouth. After of moment of savoring the taste, she bobbed her head back and forth until she heard the officer moaning loudly. She looked up into his eyes and couldn’t help enjoy the sight of this strange man in the throes of pure ecstacy. This made her bob her head faster and faster.

The officer placed his large hands atop her small head and began taking control of the rhythm and pacing. He would force his whole beauty deep into her mouth, passing her uvula and into her throat. She would gag and grab his ass trying to pull away. Her eyes teared and face turned red has he rammed his spear deep into her mouth, her cheek pressing against his abdomen. His thrusting sped up and then stopped. He pressed her face deep into his crotch, and Emma could feel his member swell up and stretch out her throat. Emma struggled to breath as she felt large globs of thick liquid pour down her throat. She tasted a ribbon of salty-sweetness land on her tongue as he slowly pulled out. His beauty went limp and Emma could breath again.

Emma, disappointed it all went down her throat and she didn’t get to “drink” it, defiantly grabbed the officer’s dick tightly at the base and pulled up, squeeze every last drop onto her protruding tongue.

Still not enough, she closed her lips over the limp head and sucked as hard as she could. He didn’t give up the second load easily, but Emma persevered. She watched as his balls raised up and suddenly another load poured into her mouth. She looked up at the officer with a look of gratitude. She let the load sit on the tongue as she took in the complex flavors.

The officer watched in shock. Emma opened her mouth in front of the officer and swished the juices around with her tongue so he could see his load, then swallowed it all in one big gulp. The weak-kneed officer stepped back speechless. He nodded approvingly, then waddled to his car without saying a word. Emma recognized that look of relaxation at the end and knew he truly enjoyed her beauty. She giggled to herself and wondered why both Brook and the officer tasted so different. She climbed back into the truck cabin and was greeted by Brook again in the driver seat.

“How was it?” Brook asked.

“It was good, but yours tastes better, I think,” she responded. Brook smirked. He started the engine and they continued back on the road. Emma sat in her chair in a daze. She just couldn’t believe how willingly people shared their beauty. She didn’t have enough. She wanted more. After a couple of hours reminiscing about the two men, she looked to Brook.

“Can you share me with more men?” Emma asked innocently. “I want as many men as I can to share my beauty with. I want to swallow every drop they have to give me.”

Brook was impressed with how quickly she turned. She was a flower just ready to bloom. And he knew exactly what to do with his newfound nymph. He knew exactly where to take her.

The road grew long and hypnotic. The tension between Emma and Brook subsided a bit and comfort started to set in. Their longing stares turned to giggles, like they were sharing an inside joke no one else knew. Emma climbed into Brook’s lap and slipped between his legs. Brook hit the cruise control and spread his legs to accommodate her. Emma wistfully reach for Brooks pants, unzipped him, and pulled out his beauty once more. She put his semi-hard rod in her mouth and sucked gently, almost like a pacifier, sporadically playing with it and experimenting with different maneuvers. Brook kept his eyes on the road this time. He lied one hand on her head and petted her soft, short hair, occasionally sweeping her hair from her face, and just enjoyed the moment. As they traveled along, Brook would occasionally surprise her with another mini-load. She would swallow it and just continue sucking gently like nothing had happened. Eventually she fell asleep, her head in his lap, his cock in her mouth.
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Old 03-06-2017, 06:23 PM
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Emma woke to a series of stops and the occasional turn. She opened her eyes and noticed herself wrapped in a thin blanket in the sleeper of the cabin. She pulled at her blanket and rolled to her side so she could watch her savior navigating the truck, gripping the steering wheel with his massive hands. She slowly sat up, causing the blanket to fall to her waist and exposing her bare chest. Emma didn’t think much of it- she felt safe with Brook around- but her eyes quickly scanned the room for her missing dress. She found her knapsack on one of the shelves and her dress by the cabin door. She stretched and yawned softly, then slumped over. She grabbed a small sewing kick from her knapsack, walked into the main cabin, snatched her dress and sat cross-legged naked on the passenger chair. She furrowed her brow with each missed attempt at threading the eye, but finally managed to push it through while the truck stopped at a light, despite the constant rumbling of the engine. She tied the thread off and began re-hemming her dress. She grabbed a small pair of scissors and cut a deep back out and then hemmed that as well. She trimmed the shoulders, but left the collar in place. She moved quickly with a clear idea in mind. Again, Emma took inspiration from the woman in the magazine. This, she felt, could only make her more beautiful.

Emma looked to Brook, who so far remained steadfast on the road. She stood between the chairs and held her new dress to her naked body.

“What do you think, Sir?” She asked, fishing for attention.

Brook grunted. “Put it on.”

Without missing a beat, Emma lifted the skirt overhead and slipped it on. The skirt was even shorter than before, a feat that left her purely indecent. Her breasts peaked out the side, showing off what little side-boob she had. Only the collar she buttoned around her neck kept the top of the dress up. Her shoulders and back were completely exposed. Emma took notes on where it could be cinched and adjusted further, but stayed largely undeterred. She made the biggest changes already, and felt freer than ever. Emma grabbed the hem of her skirt and twisted side to side, clearly proud of her work.

Brook’s gaze shifted slowly from Emma’s bare feet, up her scantily clad body, to her adorable rosy cheeks. He could feel his pants tighten, but resisted the temptress for now. He took one final turn, hit the brakes, and shifted the truck into “park”.

“Lunch time,” Brook spoke. Emma looked out the window. The wheat fields took a momentary break, opening up to a small trucker’s rest stop with a restaurant and gas station. She saw dozens of trucks scattered about, some neatly parked in a line, others parked in random spots along the dirt ground. Emma had packed some food into her knapsack, but jumped at the opportunity to try food of the English.

“Oh, can I join, Sir?” she requested. “I’ve never had food from the outside before.”

Brook smirked at her. “Of course.” He had come to this spot specifically for her. Emma jumped with excitement. She crawled across Brooks lap, pushed the door open and practically leapt out of the truck and onto the ground. All her commotion created an avalanche of turned heads and glaring stares. The area was swarming with men. She could feel herself practically drowning in eyes. What an opportunity to show off her new dress! She stretched out her body to absorb the energy of the place, then twirled around in pure bliss. The day had warmed up and Emma felt the heat rising from the ground and between her legs.

“You’ll need these,” Brook hollered. Two strappy, heeled sandals landed on the ground next to Emma. They looked eerily similar to the shoes the woman wore in Emma’s magazine. How did he know? Where did he get these? Emma sat on the ground, spread her legs and quickly strapped them on. Once on, she stood up as tall as she could. Everything looked different from her new height. She felt on top of the world! She began posing with her new shoes, tossing her head back and bending her leg like she was in mid stride; crossing her legs and bending over. Brook step to the ground and wiped the dirt off her bent-over ass. Emma jumped up and hugged him tightly. With the heels on, she was able to rest her head onto his chest. She leapt away and pranced around, then stumbled and fell to the ground. She struggled to stand back up until Brook grabbed her by the underarms and lifted her. Emma blushed and decided to slow down a bit.

Emma clasped Brooks arms tightly, practically hanging on as they walked, still not used to her newly acquired height. She walked as proudly as she could, despite dangling off another human, swaying her hips with each step. Her dress was so short she could no longer hide her ass and if the dress bounced just right her bare pussy was equally exposed.

They climbed a couple steps to the diner and Brook escorted her through the door. The bell hanging from the door rang, a gentleman looked up, and invited them to pick any seat. The room felt a bit stuffy and hot. The plastic seats and warn out wood betrayed the diner’s old age. Sunlight streaked through the skylight and illuminated particles of dust floating in the air, but not much else. Though the room half-filled with dining men, the room rung silent. That is, until Emma took the quest to find the best seat in the diner a bit too seriously, jumping from one available seat to the next until she could confidently say she knew the answer. This was all new to Emma and Brook did not dare tamp down her excitement.

Finally she picked the two backless stools at the corner of the bar in front of the entrance. She wanted everyone that walked in to get a glimpse of her. She hopped on to the red plastic seat and straddled it between her legs. Her bare ass pressed down on it, spreading her cheeks apart. Her feet dangled and her skirt was so short her asshole made an appearance every time she leaned forward. She wiggled her legs and bounced on her seat waiting for the gentleman to offer them a menu. Brook lugged his weight over the stool beside her and plopped down with a thump.

The gentleman behind the bar walked over. “What will it...” mid-sentence the gentleman noticed Emma’s sparingly clothed body. “Be?” he finally finished, switching his glance to Brook.

“Tell Larry to come up front,” Brook said, ignoring his question. The gentleman looked Brook over suspiciously. He called out for Larry while never taking his eyes completely off Brook. A rotund man soon waddled into the bar area dressed in a grease-stained arpong, carrying a metal spatula and a weary expression. He instantly recognized Brook. He grabbed the front of his heavily soiled apron and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He approached Brook and pressed his entire weight onto the edge of the bar.

“You have some nerve coming here. You going to pay me back?” Larry asked. Emma was still bouncing in her chair, catching his eye. He flashed her a glance, then looked back to Brook.

“Something like that,” Brook answered. “This here is Emma.”
Larry looked her over again. Emma carried a big smile and exuberant energy. He saw her half-naked body and felt a bit of inspiration growing, but ignored it. “What of it?”

“Look...” Brook spoke. He glanced to either side and beckoned Larry to another corner of the bar. Emma unwrapped the napkin from a set of utensils and began to play with it as the two men spoke. Emma could hear them whispering and noticed Larry kept looking at her from around his shoulder. Emma knew what they were talking about and couldn’t wait to milk another man. The gentleman behind the bar folded his arms and stared at Emma. Emma put a fork and a spoon in either corner of her mouth and made silly faces at him. He smirked. Then Larry called out for him.

“David, c’mon,” said Larry. The gentleman waved, “bye", to Emma and joined the other two men in their huddle. Then all three shook hands. Brook stepped away from the group and sat next to Emma again.

“Emma,” Brook began, “those two men have our food waiting for us in the back, but you need to go back their with them and pay them. Can you show those two men how beautiful you are?”

This was no longer a surprise to Emma. She looked up at Brook with the utensils still in her mouth, closed her eyes tight and gave him a giant close-mouthed grin while nodding slowly. She reveled the moment. She obediently stepped from her stool and then inbetween the two men on the other side of the bar. She grab each of their hands and the three of them disappeared behind the swinging kitchen doors.
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Old 03-06-2017, 06:28 PM
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Emma scanned the kitchen area. The floor was spotty and slippery. She took care to avoid the black punctuated mats that haphazardly dressed the tile floor. A burner heated a giant boiling vat on the stove and pans hung off little hooks from shelves. She dragged her fingers across the pans, making them sing as they tapped each other mid-swing. The men walked her to the giant humming refrigerators and then stood there not sure what to do next, so Emma sprung to the occasion. She pushed them both against a giant metal sink and stood in front of them ready to perform. She struck poses this time she had never done before. She had so much beauty to share, so decided to be more open and risque. Emma faced the men and lifted her skirt, showing her bald beaver. She turned around and bent over, then grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them apart. The floor was too dirty for her, so she walked up to the men and squatted in front of them. She reached between their legs and rubbed her hands into their pants. She could feel their bodies stiffen.

“Will you guys show me your beauty,” she begged. With haste the men undid their belts and dropped their trousers. Larry held his apron to one side as Emma grabbed their freed members with her hands and pumped them rhythmically. She pulled at Larry’s rod and dragged him closer, then closed her lips and sucked roughly while pulling her head back. After a few bobs of her head, she repeated the same with David. In her spirit of experimentation she then tried to fit both into her mouth, but could only get them an inch in.

Larry was the first to go. Her third time switching to Larry, his hips tightened. He pulled his dick from Emmas mouth and pinched it between his fingers, milking it himself. Like a bird clamoring to be fed, Emma kept reaching her mouth to his rod- she wanted to drink every last drop- but Larry kept stepping away. Then Larry’s body spasmed and his milk released, first across Emma’s forehead and into her hair, then across her two soft round cheeks, but finally she managed to get the last three squirts in her mouth. Despite his apparently small rod, he made up for it with the massive amounts of milk he had to share. Emma held her head back to minimize the amount that dripped down her chin, then garggle the juice. Larry reacted in shock and Emma laughed out loud. The whole load spilled from her mouth and on to her chest. Emma laughed even harder as Larry lifted his pants back up. He waddled to his stove and tended to his cooking. After her fit of laughter subsided, she pulled at the front of her dress and licked up what she could of Larry’s load; It tasted very bitter this time. As she pulled at her dress, David could see her breasts escape from the side. Emma looked up and gave him her sultry eyes. She let him know it was his turn.

She crawled on all fours to David, then fumbled back into her squatting position to tend to David’s short, but thick rod. David had her all to himself now and decided to explore a bit more. While Emma sucked on his kindness, he reached for her hand and placed it on his dangling balls. Emma found them amusing and pinched, pulled, and stretched them about. Then David reached into her dressed and pinched her soft, puffy pink nipple. Electricity ignited her body and her head bob harder. She closed her eyes tight and moaned while trying to keep her lips tightly sealed around David’s member. She could hardly contain herself. She could feel the her pussy contracting and liquid run down her leg. She had never felt such bliss. Before long, David pulled his dick from her mouth, turned around and bent over in front of her.

“Lick here,” he suggested. Emma looked curiously at the new perspective. She grabbed either side of his ass cheeks and let her tongue roam about. She saw his balls still hanging there, so she reached for them while he pounded at his own beauty. His body began to tighten and Emma took that as her signal. Small enough to crawl between his legs, she ripped his rod from his hand and pulled it straight down and into her mouth. Though an odd position, it did the trick. She swallowed as he shot his load until there was none left. It tasted sour, with a lingering sweetness. She smacked and licked her lips, then accidently let out a burp. She giggled, then grabbed onto the edge of the metal sink and helped herself up.

“Thank you,” she said bashfully. David lifted up his pants and stepped aside.

Larry returned and handed Emma a plate. “This one is for your daddy,” he said.

Emma laughed at his misperception. Brook was not her father, but she thought it might be cute to play the part.

“Yes, Sir. Daddy will love this," she joked.

Larry then took the second plate in his hands and dropped it down to his waist. He pulled out his tiny rod, hovered over the plate, and massaged his rod between his fingers. Emma assisted by squeezing his balls with her warm hands. It didn’t take him long. Emma giggled again as he shot a second load over an open omelette. He folded the omelette in half and handed Emma the second plate.

“And this one is especially for you,” said Larry. Emma laughed and with graciousness accepted them both. She walked back to the stools she had picked out with two plates of food in her hands and saw Brook still there playing on his phone. She placed the plates on the bar and jumped onto the stool.

“Here you go, Daddy,” said Emma, sarcastically. Brook looked at her funny and she giggled again. “That’s right. You’re my daddy.” Brook shrugged. He grabbed a set of utensils and started to cut away at his food.

Emma excitedly cut her omelette in half and watched Larry’s load seep onto her plate. David had stepped back into the bar and watched Emma eat her special food. Between cum-filled bites of her omelette, Emma scraped the ooze that managed to escape with her fork and guided it to her mouth. Each time, little strands of dew would form, so Emma would tilt her head to one side, raise her fork extra high, then cut the threads with her tongue and pile the dripping dew into her mouth. She loved watching David’s reactions as she ate. With each bite, Emma would lean forward, exposing her asshole to the men behind her. The quiet men started whispering to each other. When the omelette was completely devoured, she licked the plate clean, then sat into her stool and burped again. By this time a crowd of men formed behind her, some taking pictures with their camera phones.

Brook finished his plate, as well. He pushed the plate aside and stepped down from his stool. He held out his arm and Emma stepped down and held on tight.

“We’re going for a walk,” Brook said. He tugged at her gently and they waded past the sea of men. The men turned their heads and followed the swaying of Emma’s hips. The two of them stepped back into the sandy lot, but instead of walking straight to Brook’s truck as Emma expected, Brook paraded her in circles around the lot, walking her past any group of men he could find until a large circle of horny men formed around them.

Emma melted in on the attention. She felt her body shake. She took the opportunity to strike her poses in front of the lecherous crowd. She strutted herself around the men, occasionally spreading her ass cheeks or dipping her finger in her mouth and pulling out a thread of saliva, only to carefully fold it back onto her tongue. She watched the men reach for their crotches and belch out crude colloquials about the quality of woman she represented and the misdeeds they’d enjoy performing on her. Emma’s heart beat like a drum.

“Twenty dollars to get your knob jobbed,” Brook hollered out as he opened his arm to Emma. Emma hung her feathery weight onto Brooks arm once again as he lead her to a corrugated barrier behind the restaurant. The circle of men reassimilated into a staggering line of lascivious ids pursuing a bin to deposit their carnal impurities. Brook slung his leather coat from his shoulders and rested it on the ground. Emma knelt down and took in a deep breath. Show time, she thought.

The men watched her and she watched them, both seeing who would act first. One man in a cowboy hat and the attitude to match, unfurled a sheet of legal tender and handed it to Brook. With Brook’s consent and two strides, the man towered over Emma in a wide leg stance. Emma looked up and laughed. She tugged at his tight, musky jeans until finally he removed his oversized belt buckle. Emma could now unwrap her beautiful gift. She took her time with him as she did with each man to follow. She would tease them, joke with them, and laugh coyly while their rods hung from her mouth. She wanted each of them to feel special. She would look them in the eyes as she started slow to watch their expressions contort, their bodies twitch, and their mouth gasp. As she inevitably switched to a more ambitious tempo she would wait for that moment of no return and flip her tongue against the edge of the bell to feel every twitch while spurts of sappy goo flooded her mouth. She would show them she had properly received their gift, then adequately dispose of it all and thank them graciously for their contribution. This was the basics of her routine as she started servicing each man, one by one. However, her methods evolved over the course of that evening.

By the third man, Emma began counting the number of loads she had swallowed thus far. By four, she became hyper-aware of the varying shapes, sizes, and colors of each man’s beauty. She began to name them after their characteristics and attributions: This one was Hairy; this one was Chubby; and this one was Like Daddy’s. By number five, she would give nuanced critiques to each man on the flavor they had produced with words such as nutty, bitter, gooey, sweet, and fruity. By number eight, Emma became aware that if she pressed a man in just the right spot between his scrotum and asshole he would release his load faster. By twelve, she realized they also produced more goo. By fifteen, she figured out how to finger a man’s asshole and by twenty-five she mastered it. This, she realized, produced even more goo than before. By 29 her stomach felt stretched and bloated, but she felt obligated to let each man who asked enjoy her beauty. She dreaded the idea that if she missed a man, she may never have another chance to taste his special blend of flavors. By 35, the loads would spill from her stomach when she burped and she could taste a brand new blend of man’s milk splashed across her tongue. By 42, she was tired. After 43, there was no one left. She thanked the last man graciously, then gave Brook her puppy dog eyes. She whimpered sheepishly, stretched her arms out listlessly, and impotently flapped her hands about. The last man scurried off and Brook lifted Emma by the pits of her arms and threw her over his shoulder like a child. With half-open eyes, head resting on Brooks shoulder, she took note of the sky. It lit afire like garnet. The sun perched itself on the horizon at the verge of recession and sleepily descended down. The sun, she thought, so openly shares it’s beauty with the world. But the sun, too, needs it’s rest.

Brooks arms comforted her. No, more- they sheltered her. She felt at home. Emma’s body fell limp in Brooks arms, pure exhaustion seeping in. She let out a burp and rustled into a more comfortable position. She tried to recall each man in her head, one by one, until she finally slipped into the void of darkness.

“You did good,” Brook said as he rocked her side to side. “You’re safe now.”
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Old 03-06-2017, 06:29 PM
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From then on, several times a week Brook, would line the men up for Emma and Emma would empty them out. On days when Brook had no freight to carry, it was pretty much guaranteed. Except for shopping days, Emma’s second favorite days. When they traveled to a city, they’d inevitably hit a mall. Emma would pick out every cute dress she could find and Brook would purchase them with the money she had earned them. She often had to shop in the juniors, and sometimes even children’s, section to find dresses that were short enough and could fit her willowy body, though she often altered them anyways to flash more skin. Clothes distracted from her beautiful body, Emma thought, so she only used them strategically to emphasize her personal beauty. She would experiment with different cuts and lines to focus on the different curves of her body. She loved plaid skirts and puffy dresses. She liked the look of knee high socks, but preferred to go barefoot or wear the high-heeled sandals Brook had surprised her with. At the end of shopping, Brook would buy ice cream. Emma would order the double fudge with chocolate chips, or the brownie fudge chocolate malt, or the cocoa coffee chocolate bark. Brook would order the vanilla. He always ordered vanilla. Not vanilla bean. Not French vanilla. Just vanilla.

Several months had passed since that first fateful day and Brooks truck overflowed with Emma’s assortment of scandalous dresses. They must have crossed the country several times by then, though they never seemed to arrive in Ohio. Their adventures turned to routine course as she counted her total loads into the thousands. Brook and Emma would have moments of excitement from time to time. Like when an old man with crooked jaw and weathered hands snatched Emma by the waist and tried to get more than just a blow job. He lost a couple teeth before Brook dropped the pipe. We cut that day short. Emma didn’t like the sight of an injured man. She just wanted to spread her beauty. Up to her, she would have let the man take her there, in front of all those men, if it meant no one got hurt. But to this day, no one has actually enjoyed her in that way. She knew why. Brook was protecting her. When they met, Emma was innocent. He corrupted her, but deep down she thought he felt if only he could keep her pure in this one way, she could maintain her innocence forever. She knew Brook loved her. And over the months she fell in love with him, too. Those nights they cuddled to keep each other warm. Emma would shove her hips into his lap late at night and rub his groin with her ass, but he never took her like she wanted. In the beginning, she did it all for herself. Over time she did it for the many men who enjoyed her. She watched as she spread happiness and relief into the world. By then, two years later, she did it all for Brook, those men be damned! It was their thing. It was how they bonded. Without it, they were simply two lone souls, lost in the complexity of what life is, or at least what it’s suggested to be, on a road trip to nowhere.

They had just left the New York harbor. Emma wore the first dress she ever altered. It fit her differently now. It stretched at the hips and the chest, almost clawing at her body, though it still sat comfortably at her waist. She hung her head outside the window and smiled into the gusting wind, the cold air flappy her mouth obscenely. Flowering wheat hugged the edge of the road and she reached out and grabbed a fist full of flowers then let them loose and watched the float away into the dusty air. That’s when she saw it. Up ahead. A wooden sign with hand-carved lettering. It hung there at the fork in road, almost like a beacon. She knew that sign. She once waited under that sign two years ago- the day she met Brook. Emma could almost she her youthful, naive self still waiting their. Still looking for hope and happiness, and redemption. Emma’s mind wandered to a place she didn’t want, a place she didn’t expect. Home. It was time to return.

“Wait, Daddy, stop here!" Emma called out. Brook hit the air breaks, and the truck screeched to a halt on the side of the road. Emma ran out and to the sign. Her dressed flapped in the wind and cold air rushed between her thighs. She looked at that field of flowering wheat, largely unchanged since she had left. It was as if they waited for her and beckoned for her return. It’s time, they spoke, to reap the seeds you sowed. She turned and mapped out the direction she had come from. She could still smell that night. After a few moments of nostalgia, she climbed back into the truck. Her head peaked over the chair, and she saw Brook, with his steadfast eyes and rugged hands. Emma fumbled into her chair and clothes the door behind her.

“What?" Brook asked.

Emma gave him a weary, distant start. “Oh, it turned out to be nothing," she replied. Brook hit the gas and the trucked back onto the road. She looked at Brook and watched him steer his monster truck, barreling down the road. He kept his eyes glued to the road. She watched his chest rise and fall with each breath. She looked back outside, past the wheat field, past the sun, to the deepest corners of her mind.

That night Emma insisted that they rent a hotel room. Thirty miles later, Brook parked behind an old, rustic motel that sprawled out over open dirt. Deep grooves traversed the weathered wooden walls, and the window stained a light brown. Brook flicked on the single lamp in the middle of their suite and bathe the room in a soft, eerie orange. He turned the furnace and it made a deep thumping sound. The metal ached and moaned. It crackled and hissed as it heated up. There were two beds in the room, but they both wrapped themselves into each other on just the one, to the right, next to the closed drapes and wrenching furnace. Emma rested her head on Brook’s chest and listened to his heart beat and his lung fill up with air. The tv flickered and kaleidoscope the room in muted colors. Emma reached down and slipped her hand into Brooks loose pajama pants and began to fondle him gently. Brook took the hint and shut of the television. She crawled her naked body under the itchy sheets until Brook could feel her warm breath spread down to his balls. His beauty twitched then hardened as Emma ran her tongue along the side. She took it into her mouth and bobbed her head a few times until Brook stood solid. She crawled back up to Brook’s chest and whispered in his ear.

“I want you,” She said. Brook opened his eyes in momentary resistance as Emma finally used the poses she saw splayed on the last few pages of her magazine. She held his rod up and sat slowly down. She struggled as the tip penetrated her, but not the full head. She leaned forward and gyrated her hips, trying to move the tip further in. Emma’s body shivered with excitement. Soon enough she found her anticipation ooze down her leg and Brook’s shaft. Her walls slickened, and Brook’s rod started to slide. Finally the head popped in and her whole weight fell on top. Emma trembled, squeezed her thighs together, hunched her back over and tried to lift her hips a couple of inches. She waited their surprised at how much it hurt. Eventually the tinge of pain subsided and she looked to Brook with a forced smile. His eyes filled with a mix of begging and guilt, but he did not stop her. She kissed him on the cheek and began to milk him slowly. Soon pleasure replaced pain and Emma could feel Brook’s beauty pushing deep inside her, touch her from the inside of her navel. Every few minutes her body would wash with ecstasy and she would collapse and shiver on top of brook, drenching his crotch with an avalanche of her own ambrosia. Each time she felt Brook’s beauty twitch inside her, but then he would collapse his hips and stop himself from erupting. Emma grew impatient with his resistance and didn’t know when she would finally collapse into exhaustion. His member was so big, and she was so tight, but she forced every inch into him as her rhythm grew more staccato and desperate. It hurt to take in every inch of him, feeling even her organs shifting with each thrust, but she wanted his milk. With each collapse of his hips, Brook found the time it took to take him near edge diminished, and the harder it became to stop in time. Emma kept going and felt him twitch once more. Determined, she took her opportunity and shoved her finger up Brook’s ass. She pressed in hard and the more he collapsed his hips, the deeper her finger went. With the other hand she grabbed onto his nipple and tugged at it. Brook had no choice. Soon his beauty relinquished his milk. It jettisoned out like he had never experienced before. Emma engulfed every inch when Brook finally shot his load. It was an explosion and Emma shuttered in pain as his load unleashed. She felt his semen force its way into and past her cervix. Emma fell to Brook’s side and rolled around to distract her from the throbbing, the gallons of his milk flowing from her flower. She rocked herself until the tingling passed. She opened her eyes and saw Brook staring back with fear in his eyes. Emma rubbed her pussy softly, then took a glob of Brook’s goo. She showed it to Brook, smiled and then licked it off her hands. She held her fingers in front of her and scissored them together, causing threads of Brook’s dew to form between them. Brook’s eyes softened and Emma giggled. She wrapped her arms around him until they both fell asleep. The next day, Brook woke to an empty bed.

Emma had woken up in the middle of the night and sewed a new dress together out of several from her collection. She recreated the plain dress she had tattered that day she met Brook, complete with her prayer cap that she wrapped around her now long and lustrous hair. She didn’t have enough black material, so she made her dress red this time, with a little lace along the hem. Before the sun came up, she had left. She waited in the parking lot until she found someone just leaving bound westward.

“There!” she said to the driver as they came across that wooden sign once more. The driver pulled over and Emma quickly ran out. She began retracing her steps until, by the rise of the early sun, she saw her father’s house. A few weeks later, after confirming her faith to the whole town, she married a man many years her senior, but very respected in town. Nine months after that, she gave birth to her first son. They named him Amos, like his father. His middle name was Brook. He grew up big, and strong, with a tinge of red to his hair. Emma would often think about her time on the road, never with any regret. She had spread her beauty everywhere she went, like a trail of beautiful flowers. She loved it all: The sights, the dresses, the flavors, Brook. But it had become time for her to set her roots and blossom into a full woman. She wanted a family, a place to cook, and a safe place to rest at night. She grew weary of adventure. She chose happiness instead. Brook could never provide that for her, and Emma didn’t want to force it upon him. Their love of beauty brought them together, be beyond that was nothing. Brook, however, was the only man Emma ever truly loved. Sex was mostly boring now, but every month or so when she went into town to go shopping, she would bring one of her outfits she managed to hide away and find some hapless man, or men, and share with them her beauty. She would express to them the uniqueness of their flavor, then thank them graciously and be on her way. She no longer had Brook to protect her, so on several occasions she found them pushing things too far and unloading in her pussy and even her ass, but she didn’t mind too much. As they entered her body so passionately, she would just imagine Brook there, spreading her wide open and jamming himself into her until he relinquished his torrent of love. She would call out Brook’s name, then her body would spasms with her intruder’s and she would drench their cocks with her cum. The mixture of their juices that would flow out of her was the most beautiful thing she could ever imagine. She would thank them graciously, and watch them scurry away.
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