Strange Lands


“C’mon, fairy boy, wiggle those pretty buns for me.”

“Don’t call me that!”

The human brain is wired to launch itself out of a sound sleep at certain cues, be it the smell of smoke, or a loud threatening noise. The sounds of sex worked for me. A split second ago I was blissfully unconscious on Mark’s fold-out couch. Then they started going at it upstairs.

“But I know how much you like it. Maybe I’ll make you dress like Tinkerbell for the rest of the day.”

“Cut it out! I don’t like it.”

“Your body tells me different when I squeeze your tiny nipples.”

“Don’t—don’t talk to me like …”

“Like a horny bitch? You know you like it.”

“Shut up.”

“You want me to stop?—Well?”


“All right then, Tink, I’m going to violate your pretty ass now. You want me to, don’t you?”


“What’s your name?”


“C’mon, you know you want to. Tell me your name.”

“Don’t make me …”

“Say it.”


“Fucking fairy.”

The groan I heard next signaled Mark’s penetration of his new boyfriend’s ass. He must have been in the apartment somewhere when I arrived in the wee hours, but I don’t recall being introduced. Mark and I had knocked back a few Jack Daniels, so I don’t suppose I would have recalled much of anything.

I’d been exhausted after I’d gotten off the red-eye. I gave Mark a quick call from the cab and he told me to come over and put in with him. Mark is a great short-notice friend.

Upstairs, Mark’s bedmate was wailing, “God—oh god—please …”

“I got something for you, Tink. C’mon, wiggle those cheeks, make me come. Come on, you little bitch, make a mess of my bed.”

“Oh, Jesus!”

Mark made a sound like a lion belching, followed by a high-pitched wail from his partner.

I had a hard-on, and it wasn’t just from the JD that I’d filtered through my kidneys overnight.

Upstairs, I heard a half-hearted reproach.

“You treat me like a slut.”

The sound of a wet kiss followed. “But, you are a slut, baby. Now, let’s take a shower.”

I lay in the sack a while, then I pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt and stumbled into Mark’s kitchen. I fired up the coffee maker and sat contemplating what to do with my rampant dick. Then I heard footfalls, more like skipping down the stairs.

A young man with a kind of blonde hair not found in nature rounded the corner and abruptly halted. He stared, then he glanced upstairs and back at me. I read the confusion in his eyes.

I gestured with my thumb toward the ceiling. “Just friends,” I said.

He seemed to relax, but a skeptical frown remained.

“I’m Jim,” I said.

“Jason,” he replied. “Did you—hear?”

“Huh? Oh, no, just woke up with a big head.”

He nodded. Mark came down the stairs, jauntily slapped Jason’s ass and kissed his neck. “Off to work, love. You don’t want to be late on your first day.”

Jason nodded, gave me one last look and quietly left.

The coffee was ready. I poured us each a mug and we sat at the table.

“What do you think?” Mark asked, and sipped his coffee.

“Of what?”

“C’mon, don’t be so morbidly heterosexual. Isn’t he a little dream?”

“How little?” I deadpanned.

Mark chuckled. “Well, in point of fact, he’s got a little boy cock, but it’s smooth and tasty. And he plays the role of the reluctant slut so well.”

I lifted my mug and arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, you are so fucking straight as string,” Mark clucked. “I’ll bet you were whacking off listening to us, weren’t you?”

“In your dreams.”

“Okay, did you at least get a hard-on?”

I sipped my coffee.

“You did, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, a piss hard-on.”

He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. “You’re such a cunt.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I stretched and yawned. “Damn, I need to get over to Gosnold.”

“Gosnold? That little fly-speck of a town? What’s there besides retired evangelicals?”

“A woman named Barbara LaVerne. She writes erotic poetry.”

“Hmm, so, is she—like—the next new thing?”

“The company thinks so. They sent me here to get her to sign a contract. She doesn’t use an agent, and she broke off negotiations a few weeks ago. I don’t know a damned thing about her. I’m not much for poetry.”

“Since when does poetry sell?”

“I don’t suppose you caught that story in the New York Post, about the epic poem spreading over the Internet, the one about Oprah being abducted by Amazon lesbians who force her to be their queen?”

“Oh, my gosh! A friend at work told me about that. Don’t tell me your Ms. LaVerne wrote it?”

“She did. Now my bosses want to sign her up and rush her stuff into print before the excitement fades. Or at least before the next stupid thing shows up on the Net.”

“Well, you can take my car. I won’t be needing it.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“Are you gonna be able to play later? I was hoping you could come with us to the club. I guarantee you’ll get laid. You look like you haven’t gotten any in a while.”

“Is it that obvious? It’s because of the damned job. Hell, I’m almost tempted to take you up on your offer, but …”

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you see if you limit yourself to a single gender you’re automatically cutting your chances of getting fucked by 50 percent?”

“Oh, really? So when’s the last time you screwed a girl?”

“That’s irrelevant. Besides, to me—I dunno—girls just seem to lack something.”

“That’s what makes them girls.”

He threw up his hands. “Heaven knows, I try. The car keys are hanging on the hook by the back door. I have to run, see you later.”

By late morning I chugged into Gosnold behind the wheel of Mark’s beat-up Jetta. It was an odd little town, and you had to drive through several other odd little towns to get to it because it wasn’t just off the highway.

The only address I had for Barbara LaVerne was simply ‘Strange Lands—Gosnold’. I asked for directions at a coffee shop on the quiet Main Street.

“Yeah,” a heavy-set waitress said. “It’s straight up Route 104 about two miles, then take a left at the sign that says ‘Dighton’. If you end up in Dighton, you missed it.”


“You a reporter?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m not a reporter.”

A big-bellied white-haired gent who looked like a retired pastor said, “Lots of reporters asking how to get there a couple of weeks ago.”

I nodded and turned to leave.

“Yup, we hear all sorts of deviant things go on there …”

I bolted out the door as his voice trailed off. I was back in the Jetta chugging smokily up Main Street, and imagining Rod Serling back at the coffee shop introducing the next episode of The Twilight Zone.

I came to the Dighton sign and took a hard left onto a woodsy lane. I drove until I came to an arch with the words ‘Strange Lands’ carved into it. There was no gate. Beyond the arch a crushed stone driveway continued toward a house I glimpsed between tall oaks.

The driveway continued past the trees and opened into a circular drive in front of the house, which was surrounded by lush gardens. I pulled up in front of a huge bow front porch.

I stepped out of the car and looked around. There were no other vehicles in sight. Three hummingbirds hovered, suckling at long-stemmed, ungainly beautiful flowers. I had never seen hummingbirds before, except in pictures, and stood and watched them a while.

I climbed the few steps onto the deck of the porch. A knotted silk rope hung by the door. I tugged it and a cavernous tone reverberated from inside.

A moment later the door opened, and the most perfectly lovely heart-shaped face greeted me. Did I say perfect? Her eyes were like liquid emerald, her lips, lush cherry red. She was maybe five-feet-two at most, and her olive-toned face was framed by long, silky brown hair.

Such a face. I was so entranced, it took me a full three seconds to notice her gossamer, see-through kimono with the subtle floral print. But for all practical purposes, this girl was naked. She smiled and bit her lower bee-stung lip.

“Ms. LaVerne?”

She shook her head, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders. Behind her an older woman’s voice called, “Olivia? Who is it, dear?”

The girl stepped back, opening the door wider as she did.

A woman, also wearing a kimono, but this one substantially opaque, eyed me curiously.

“Are you Ms. LaVerne?”

“Oh, dear, not another journalist.”

“No, no ma’am, I’m not a reporter. I’m from Askew and Broadleaf.”

She cocked her head, her curious gaze even more intently curious.

“The publishers, ma’am?”

“Publishers? Oh—oh yes, of course. I completely forgot about them. Why, it’s been some weeks since I spoke to a young woman with an annoying, nasal voice.”

“Yes, well—they would like to publish your poetry, and perhaps offer a contract for future volumes.”

She continued to gaze at me, stroking her chin as if she were trying to figure out what kind of animal I was. Finally, she threw up her hands. “Well, I just completely forgot about them.”

“Ma’am, are you saying you’re no longer interested …”

“No, I’m saying I just completely forgot. Would you care for some tea?”

“Uh—yes, sure. Tea would be nice.”

The woman clapped her hands. “Olivia, now you run to the pool and wait for me. Please tell Nonie to bring us tea. Now, run along.”

The girl smiled and nodded.

“Oh, wait,” the woman said, embracing her from behind as she traipsed past. “First, let me squeeze these luscious little beauties.”

Ms. LaVerne slid her hands beneath the girl’s kimono, scooping two of the sweetest little tits I had ever seen. The girl leaned back against her, closed her eyes and sighed, “Ahhhh.”

Ms. LaVerne kissed the girl’s cheek, released her breasts and swatted her affectionately on the ass. “There you go, dear. Run along now, you sweet little trollop.”

I’m not sure what I was thinking at that moment. I was glad I was wearing dark trousers, because I was sure my crowbar-rigid cock was leaking like a faucet. There I was, a guy who hadn’t come close to getting laid in more than six months, and all at once I found myself in a candy store of sensuality.

Ms. LaVerne eyed me again with that curious look. “You’re not gay, are you Mr. …?

“Huh? Oh, no—no, not gay at all. The name’s Jim Cullen.”

“Yes, Mr. Cullen, I can see from your reaction to my little Olivia. Well, I can’t blame you; she has the same effect on me. I was rather hoping that you might be gay, however. I’d have made it worth your while.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just a notion—I’ve always wanted to watch a man fuck another man. Well, follow me, Mr. Cullen. Tea should be ready.”

What the …? I followed Ms. LaVerne through a breezy solarium and exquisitely furnished hallways to the back of the house and a grotto-like pool.

Ms. LaVerne was a beauty herself. I could imagine her being as luscious a morsel as Olivia in her twenties, but add another three decades and she had achieved vintage beauty. Her hair was dark, except for a streak of silver that began over her forehead and streamed past her left ear. Her hips swayed girlishly as she walked, and her strides indicated perhaps some European dance training in her youth.

She directed me to sit at a small table shielded by an umbrella. She sat opposite me in the bright sunlight. Beside her, Olivia reclined on a lounger, her eyes closed and her thighs spread. She was naked.

Ms. LaVerne spread shaving cream redolent with the aroma of aloe over the girl’s pussy.

“Relax, sweetie,” she cooed. “We don’t want to nick you while we’re sweeping away that icky stubble.”

She proceeded to scrape away the lather with a silver razor as Olivia licked her lips. She patted away the remnants with a moistened towel, then she turned to me.

“Mr. Cullen, would you mind handing me the baby oil?”

“Uh—baby oil?” I said thickly.

“Yes, please. On the table.”

Table? What the fuck’s a table? Finally, my brain’s flywheel began to whir again and I clumsily grabbed the clear bottle, stood and handed it to Ms. LaVerne.

She poured some into her hand and began to massage Olivia’s pussy.

Olivia moaned and squirmed in the lounger as Ms. LaVerne lovingly squeezed her plump, glistening lips, and trailed the tips of her fingers between her wet folds.

“Olivia, you insatiable little minx—let me see that tiny pink bunny pop her head out—there she is.”

I was mesmerized, frozen in step as Ms. LaVerne stroked the girl’s increasingly viscous snatch and teased her clit between her fingers.

“Come, Darling, come in Barbara’s hand—let go, let go … yes …”

Olivia whimpered as her body bucked on the lounger. Then she relaxed, like all the air had gone out of her. She began to suck her thumb.

Ms. LaVerne smiled at her young companion, raised her fingertips to her lips and licked them one by one. “I love her to be baby-smooth.”

Cripes, I needed to jack off something fierce.

“She’ll nap for a while,” Ms. LaVerne whispered. “Please, Mr. Cullen, sit down and relax.”

Relax? I was about to crawl out of my skin. I could have drilled a hole in granite with my dick at that point.

She looked at me with motherly concern. “Mr. Cullen, do you feel well?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, ma’am. Just a bit tired. The company sent me here without much prelude. They’re quite eager to sign you.”

“Hmm, why the rush? Do they send you on such short-notice errands often? It can’t be an easy way to make a living.”

“The fact is, ma’am, they hired me as an editor, but once I managed to talk a recalcitrant author into signing a contract. So, whenever an author balks, or threatens to jump to another publisher, they send me to bring her back into the fold. I got a rep as a troubleshooter.”

“My, my, you must be a very persuasive young man.”

“No ma’am, just lucky. They just wanted to vent, and after they did they signed on the dotted line. But, it seems I’ve been pigeon-holed. I’m always on the go—not much time for myself.”

“I see. And now they’ve sent you after me—all on account of that silly poem of mine that’s making the rounds of the Internet.”

“That’s right ma’am. If they can sign you quickly they can make a bunch of money—you will too, of course.”

“You are a refreshingly honest young man, Mr. Cullen. But, writing poetry is a hobby, a diversion among many. I have all the money I’ll ever need in one lifetime and then some.”

After observing her home and her various other “diversions,” I didn’t wonder that she was independently wealthy.

“I assume you took some satisfaction in having your work read, though,” I said.

“Oh, yes, I did. But, it isn’t like I crave recognition. Still it’s fun.”

“Ma’am …”

“Oh, Mr. Cullen, I think we’ve known each other long enough—call me Barbara—may I call you Jim?”

“Well, yes ma’am—I mean—Barbara. I just was about to point out that once you’re in print you’ll acquire another audience. And, from a purely selfish perspective, my employers would be quite pleased.”

“Hmm, so honest … Very well, I’ll sign whatever. My personal assistant will work it out with you. She lifted a phone from her pocket and held it to her ear. Lily? It’s Barbara, could you come out to the pool for a moment, there’s some business I need you to take care of for me. Thank you, dear.”

She slipped the phone back into her pocket and frowned at the dozing Olivia. “Dear, I don’t want her to get sunburned.”

She retrieved the phone. “Hello, n’Kome? Could you come out to the pool and bring Olivia to her room. The sweetie has fallen asleep in the sun and I’m afraid she’ll get a burn. Thank you, darling.”

Barbara poured us more tea.

A woman—she was at least six feet tall—with skin the color of dark roast coffee strode silently from the house. She looked like a Nubian goddess with short, cropped hair, long arms and legs, sculpted, muscular.

Without a word she scooped Olivia into her arms and carried her like a baby toward the house.

“Thank you, dear,” Barbara called after her.

Jesus, I thought, I bet that woman could kick my ass—and I’d love every minute of it.

Another woman stepped from the house giving wide berth to n’Kome and her sleepy cargo. She looked so—normal—she seemed rather out-of-place.

She wore a long, navy skirt that reached her mid-calf, and a no-nonsense white blouse. She wore her reddish-brown hair up and was attractive in a 1950s office-girl sort of way, with her sensible black shoes and plain, black-framed glasses.

“Yes, Barbara,” she said. Her voice was soft, disarming.

“Lily, yes, this is Mr. Cullen—Jim. He works for some publishers who send him on missions impossible and such. I’m going to be immortalized in print. Please work out the details with him.”

“Yes, of course, Barbara.”

Barbara’s eyes made an admiring climb from the young woman’s ankles to her forehead. “Dear Lily, I should so much like to feast my eyes on those coltish legs of yours.”

Lily’s face reddened in a flash. She glanced quickly at me, then at her feet.

“Jim, isn’t she a lovely girl?”

My words caught in my throat. I was embarrassed at the young woman’s embarrassment.

“She’s such a bundle of inhibitions, though, aren’t you, Lily? But she’s so efficient, and she takes such good care of my affairs, that I overlook such defects. But, not to worry; you’re my pet project, dear. I’ll see you naked eventually.”

There was nothing salacious in Barbara’s tone. She sounded like a mother offering homely advice to a daughter.

“Uh—Mr. Cullen,” Lily said. Her eyes were glued to the ground. “Would you come with me to my office please?”

“Yes, of course.”

I stood and Barbara said, “Will you stay for dinner, Jim? I do enjoy your company.”

“Yeah—sure thing.”

She smiled and waved us away.

Lily walked ahead with determined, deliberate strides. Her shoulders were slightly hunched as I followed her through corridors and then up a flight of stairs. I followed her through a door and entered her office.

She plucked a tissue from a box on her desk and wiped her brow.

“Must be quite interesting, working for Ms. LaVerne,” I ventured.

She spun around and planted her haunches on the edge of her desk. She folded her arms tightly and finally looked me in the eye.

“You have no idea, Mr. Cullen. You know, I was brought up a certain way. One was expected to behave accordingly, and there were proprieties to maintain.”

I nodded.

“But this house—oh my gosh—you wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve witnessed.”

“Really,” I said, as evenly as possible.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand, I adore Barbara. She’s a lovely person. She pays me far more than I would make in a similar position. She’s just a genuinely nice human being. But—but …”


“Well—I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Cullen. I live here too, and I don’t usually have someone from—outside—to talk with.”

“That’s quite all right, Lily.”

“Mr. Cullen,” she whispered. “I’ve witnessed orgies here—girls dressed like nymphs out of Greek mythology, and satyrs—well, not really of course, but they sure played their parts well.”


“Oh, Mr. Cullen, those are just the special occasions. But every day—well, you’ve seen Olivia.”

I exhaled perhaps a bit too loudly. “Yes, I’ve seen Olivia.”

“That girl—she’s just not of this world—she exudes …”

“Sex,” I said without meaning to.

Lily nodded vigorously. “You have to understand, Mr. Cullen, working here is like—like—being in a state of constant arousal. I—I … Well, it’s just so hard to maintain any sort of, well, professional detachment.”

“I can’t say as I blame you, Lily. By the way, are you all right?

“Um, yes, just a little light-headed all of a sudden.” She breathed like a bellows. ” Oh, Mr. Cullen, I’m trying so hard …”


She began to tremble. Before I knew it she was in my arms, melting into me. I could feel the blood coursing through my body, simmering. My hands slid down her back and cupped her ass. It was like I’d tripped a wire. Her hands were all over me. And I was tugging the zipper of her skirt down her hip.

I had tugged it as far as it could travel and sensed her skirt slipping from her hips when she grabbed my hand firmly.

“No—I’m sorry, but, we shouldn’t—we can’t.”

What? I wanted to scream: Jesus, lady—are you trying to turn me into a rapist?

She pushed herself gently out of my embrace. “I—I’m sorry—for my lapse.”

“Lapse? Lapse!”

“Don’t you see? I could never behave like this—you know, outside of Strange Lands.”

I was dumbstruck. Didn’t she realize I was this close to throwing her onto her desk and fucking her brainless?

“I mean,” she continued. “I don’t even know you.”

I grabbed her hand and shook it. “Hi, I’m Jim Cullen.”

“Lily Warren.”

“Nice to meet you, Lily. Now that we’re old friends, may I fuck you?’


Things happened pretty quickly after that. She wiggled her hips and that skirt began to softly hiss its way down her legs. It took forever to pool at her ankles. Barbara was right. Lily was like a colt—all legs: pale, taut, stratospheric.

She lay back onto her desk, scattering papers, pens, sundry other items. Her legs—the word ‘long’ just didn’t do them justice—she scissored above her sending her shoes tumbling through the air. White bikini panties, damp and translucent, were the only barrier between me and where I wanted to be. I leaned forward and hooked my fingers into the waist at her hips and drew them slowly down, grazing my thumbs over her thighs to the accompaniment of her sweet whimpers and sighs.

A triangular patch of reddish down pointed like an arrowhead to her pink-flushed pussy lips.

Lily’s chest rose and fell with a shuddering sigh. I began to pluck the buttons of her blouse, slowly, excruciatingly, teasing her, teasing myself. A simple white bra shielded her breasts. I didn’t waste any time with the clasp. My fist gathered the fabric between the cups. I yanked it off, and her creamy, pink-nippled wonderments jiggled like Jell-O. Lily’s eyes flew open. Her cheeks glowed reddish-pink. “Oh, God, you’re going to rape me, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” Well, damn right, if that’s what she wanted.

I can’t even remember shedding my pants and underwear. I leaped onto that desk, onto her. My cock followed the red arrow to her syrupy cunt. I was inside her, and she was thrashing beneath me, speaking in bizarre but decidedly obscene tongues.

Her legs closed around my hips and her heels banged me in the ass as I pummeled her. Double-jointed? No, this girl was more like triple-jointed. I would gladly have died wrapped in those legs.

My crotch and groin were soaked from her fluids. Damn she was slippery. And I was in the zone; the whole world faded away as I speared her, soaking up the sensations as I ploughed her cunt. But before long my balls were sending the launch signal.

I didn’t want to come before her. I was desperately trying to hold it back, but then Lily shrieked in my ear and I felt a tremor, and then another rock her body. I was out of control then. My cock exploded like a shaken soda bottle.

I didn’t dare move. Every part of my body was supersensitive, to the point of being painful. I cradled Lily beneath me, then raised my head cautiously. Tears were streaming from her eyes.

“Lily? I’m sorry, did I …”

Before I could finish she kissed me and sighed. “That was sooo good.”

I grinned and kissed her back.


Lily and I froze, our eyes locked. Hesitantly, we turned our heads toward the door. It was Barbara standing with the stoic n’Kome.

My dick hadn’t even slid all the way out of Lily. In fact, at the sight of Barbara it began to stiffen again, blindly poking its way back into her.

Barbara stepped over to the desk and raised one of Lily’s legs. She slid her hand along the lovely ivory limb, took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Yum, I just knew they were beautiful, but I had no idea. My dear Lily, if you were a racehorse, you’d win every heat.” Then she chuckled to herself, “heat.”

She patted me on my ass like she would a pet. “Oh, Jim, I’m so glad you came by today. It seems you were just the medicine Lily needed to break her out of her shell. I’m so pleased. Well, dinner is at 7.”

She turned to leave then hesitated at the door. Over her shoulder she winked, “Oh, Lily, dear, you haven’t forgotten our wager, have you?”

“No—no, I haven’t, Barbara.”

“Good girl. n’Kome will help you.”

n’Kome nodded. “I’ll wait for you in the hall.” She closed the door behind her.

I lifted myself off the desk and pulled on my trousers. Lily sat up and swung her legs over the desk. A sheen of moisture where she had lain evaporated before my eyes.

“Oh, my God.” Lily sighed. She shook her head and her hair freed itself and fell over her shoulders. She was lovely.

“What’s going on? What ‘wager’ is she talking about?”

“Oh,” she pouted. “When I took this job Barbara told me one day she’d catch me doing something—naughty. I said I wasn’t that kind of girl. I—I promised if she ever did find me—you know—I’d work in the nude from then on. After all this time, being careful even to lock my door if I ever—well, touched myself. And now she walks in on me getting screwed.”

My dick twitched. “Well—Lily—anyplace else it might be a problem, but around here …”

“It isn’t just that,” she said. Then she shrugged. “I have to go with n’Kome.”

She didn’t bother to dress. She just walked to the door and opened it. She looked back.

“Jim, I felt so—nasty—but it felt so good. You won’t think different of me, will you?”

I smiled. “No way, Lily.”

She turned and stepped into the hallway. My eyes followed her alabaster ass cheeks until they were out of sight. My dick was twitching again.

I stepped out of Lily’s office and strolled around the house. It was immense, richly furnished, with fine woodwork. It wasn’t stuffy like a lot of big houses. It was breezy, inviting. I found my way outside and followed a path to a lovely garden pond stocked with goldfish. A little man fed the fish. He looked up and smiled, but returned to his task. I waved and moved on.

The grounds were beautiful and aromatic. The gardens lush with fragrant blooms and herbs. I sat on a wrought iron bench and just absorbed all the beauty.

A bell chimed and I turned toward the house. It was Olivia, bareassed naked as the day she was born, waving for me to come inside.

I followed her, lured by her swaying buns to the dining room. Barbara sat at the head of a heavy table of dark polished wood. A selection of flowers from the gardens graced it with color and fragrance.

Barbara was naked. I could only guess her age, but I thought she was well into her fifties. But there was something in her warm smile that combined the wisdom of age with youthful enthusiasm, a zest that shone from her dark brown eyes. Her complexion was sort of bananas and cream; her breasts were not too large, but full and tipped with beige nipples. A 20-year old might give her soul for a body like that. She was pretty in the classic sense.

“Jim, you goose. I didn’t think to tell you. At Strange Lands, everyone dines in the nude. Our only exemption was Lily and, well, that’s gone by the boards—thanks to you.”

She pointed to my place at the table. As I pulled out the seat, Barbara said, “n’Kome will help you.”

The amazon held out a hand. I nodded and doffed my shirt and shimmied out of my pants and briefs. My cock rose like a howitzer; n’Kome noticed. One brow arched and the slightest hint of a grin turned her lips.

Olivia sat near Barbara, trying to suppress a giggle.

Barbara smiled coyly. “I’m glad to see you’re enjoying our company, Jim.”

My cheeks burned.

A moment later, Lily walked into the room. How can I describe her entrance? Regal nakedness, perhaps. She wore her hair down over her freckled shoulders. It seemed lighter, redder that it did when she had it bound in a pile on top of her head.

Barbara gasped, “Oh, dear, you’re so lovely.”

Lily was nervous, but she nodded and smiled at Barbara. Her hands were clasped over her pussy.

“Oh, Hon, don’t hide it, let us see.”

Lily parted her hands. Her red arrow was gone. She was smooth as a newborn. She looked at me and shrugged.

“Lovely,” Barbara sighed.

Lily took her place at the table opposite me.

A substantial, middle aged woman in a white uniform entered with armfuls of dishes. Even if she wasn’t as large as she was she’d stand out for being the only one among us with any clothing on. She efficiently placed the dishes around the table. The feast she laid out was lavish: roasted pork, vegetables I recognized and some I didn’t. She poured wine and turned to leave.

“Thank you, Nonie,” Barbara said. “Will you be enjoying the entertainment with us later?”

Nonie turned, “No, ma’am. I have plans for Chan later. I’ll clean up in the morning.”

“Very well, dear. Goodnight. Give my best to Chan.”

We passed the dishes around and filled our plates. What a meal. It was delicious, and I said so.

“Nonie is such a wonder,” Barbara nodded. “She’s been my cook and housekeeper for ten years, ever since I bought Strange Lands. So efficient when she came here, but lonely too. Thankfully, she found Chan. Have you met Chan? He’s a lovely little man. He created these gorgeous gardens.”

“Uh, yes,” I said. “I saw him feeding the pond fish.”

“Well, Nonie just claimed him, is what she did.” Barbara chuckled. “She tickles him to orgasm.”

I coughed up a bit of wine. “Excuse me,” I said, wiping my chin.

“Can you imagine? He loves it. That’s how they make love—she ties him up and tickles him mercilessly—until he comes, of course. I’ve begged her to let me watch, but she says Chan would be too bashful.”

I looked across the table at Lily. Her expression had changed. Her eyes went wide and her mouth parted in an ‘O’. She was panting.

I was afraid something hadn’t agreed with her, then she relaxed and slumped into her seat. I was trying to puzzle out what had happened to her when I felt wet lips close on the tip of my cock. Now my eyes were bugging out of my skull as those slippery lips nibbled down my shaft and tiny hands cradled my balls. Then they were gone. I could have begged out loud for them to return.

“Olivia?” Barbara called. “Olivia, where have you gotten to? Are you hiding under the table?”

We heard a giggle then Barbara threw herself back in her seat, her jaw slack and her eyes rolling back. “Ohhhh!”

She closed her eyes and bit down on a finger of her right hand. Then she whimpered and a barely perceptible tremor buffeted her. Olivia’s head poked up from under the table, she was grinning and her lips glistened.

Barbara caught her breath. “You—you little—oh you terrible brat. Oh, darling.” She cradled Olivia’s head to her breast.

If I had stood up then I’d have tipped the table over with my dick.

Barbara took a moment to recover, and then we all had coffee, just like any civilized folks would. Finally, Barbara signaled the silent n’Kome, who sat at the opposite end of the table. “Darling, will you take Olivia upstairs? Get yourselves ready.”

Olivia pranced ahead of n’Kome.

“Let’s go out to the porch,” Barbara instructed. “The girls have prepared a lovely entertainment for us.”

I looked across at Lily, who nodded at me and stood. We strolled onto the porch and Barbara signaled to Lily and me to sit together on a cushioned swing seat. Lily smiled and snuggled into me. My dick was unabashedly rigid. She closed one hand around it and squeezed.

“Chan has planted herbs that keep the biting insects away,” Barbara said matter-of-factly. “I hate to see a mosquito bite mar lovely skin.”

I nodded dumbly. Lily had begun to stroke me oh so slightly, and nibble my ear.

Olivia skipped through the door. She was covered in body paint, a russet brown with white spots. She looked like Bambi.

“Oh, you’re adorable,” Barbara gushed. “All right, run along my little fawn, the fierce hunter is hot on your trail.”

Olivia ran giggling into the gardens.

A moment later n’Kome emerged; her naked body was streaked with bright red and white paint with elaborate patterns traced over her arms and thighs.

Lily stopped stroking my cock to stare.

“Isn’t she striking?” Barbara said. “Run along, your prey awaits you.”

n’Kome bounded after Olivia.

Barbara clapped her hands. “She’s Diana, the huntress. I fear my poor little fawn stands no chance.”

From the gardens came a rustle of vegetation, then an occasional shriek and giggle. Lily and I were transfixed at the drama.

“She’s Kush, I just know it,” Barbara said.

“Excuse me,” I croaked.

“My n’Kome. Those Nilotic features tell me everything. She’s descended from the Kush, the ancestors of the Nubians, who of course gave their civilization to the Egyptians.”

“Of course.”

“I studied them when I was a girl, went on a dig in Africa. They had a cult of women warriors. They kept herds of men for breeding only.”


“Oh, yes. Kept the poor creatures in a constant state of arousal. You see, they fit them with little woven baskets that acted as a chastity device. Whenever a Kush warrior decided to have a child, she’d pick a man out from the herd, mount him, and it was all over in a few seconds because the poor dears were—oh, shall we say, on a hair-trigger? No time to waste with procreation, the warrior wanted the deed done so she could rejoin her real mate, a fellow warrior.”

A shriek rattled us out of our reveries. n’Kome emerged from the gardens with Olivia slung over her shoulders, giggling.

Barbara stood and clapped. “Very impressive, Mighty Huntress. Please, take her to our lair.

n’Kome nodded; a lascivious grin curled her lips. Barbara stood and followed her into the house. She called to me as she entered, “Please stay the night, Jim. It’s been so fun to have you.”

“Well, okay.”

“Goodnight, darlings.”

That left just Lily and me alone on the porch swing. Somewhere, I thought I heard the mad cackle of a man being tickled.

“I can’t remember ever spending a day like this in my life. Nothing comes close,” I said.

“Uh-huh. Despite everything else I’ve seen since I’ve been to Strange Lands, this definitely topped them all.”

Lily held my dick in the cocoon of her hand, leaned over and tongued the tip. I sucked in some air and held it as her tongue traveled the underside of my cock.

“Is there—someplace we can—go,” I panted.

“My room—I’ll show you.”

We stood.

“Carry me?”


“The way n’Kome carried Olivia this afternoon?”

I lifted her into my arms and she showed me the way to her room, which was above an elegant staircase. I was a naked Rhett to her naked Scarlet.

Her room was frilly and feminine. A canopy bed was so soft she sank into it when I laid her down. Moonlight poured through a window, illuminating her snowy skin. I parted her thighs.

“No rush this time,” I said. “We’re going to take it slow.”

I kneeled and licked her pussy lips, slipping my tongue tip between her folds and French kissing her cunt. Her syrup was flowing warmly and I lapped at it gratefully. Time meant nothing—I calculated it by her orgasms only. She cried after the first one struck her. Then we cuddled and started all over again.

It was a long night—not long enough.

In the morning I woke spooned with her, my arms closed around her breasts.

We had breakfast—in the buff, of course. Then it was time for me to leave. I dressed reluctantly for that.

Barbara, Lily, n’Kome and Olivia gathered on the porch to see me off. Even Nonie stepped out of her kitchen to wave goodbye. Chan waved from the gardens. The poor guy looked really tired, but he was grinning just the same.

The Jetta rumbled to life and I put it into gear. Barbara called for me to stop, and ran to the car. She leaned into my window and kissed my cheek.

“Come to work for me, Jim.”


“Dear, you’re practically one of the family. I appreciate what you did for Lily.”

“But, I didn’t …”

“Oh, yes you did. Please, I’ll pay you triple whatever your employer is paying you. And you can live right here at Strange Lands.”

“Thanks, Barbara, I’ll think about it.”

“Please do. Promise me you’ll at least visit next weekend. I’m staging a tribute to Bacchus, and I’m inviting all sorts of lovely people. I don’t suppose you know any gay men, who’d be willing to make love for an audience, do you?”

“I’ll see what I can do. And, yes, I’ll be here.”

“Oh, good. Drive carefully, dear.”

Back on the interstate, it occurred to me that the real world didn’t feel so real.

Back at Mark’s I walked in on a blowjob in progress. Jason was mortified and ran upstairs. Mark laughed.

“Impeccable timing,” he scolded. “I was worried my car broke down and you were stranded in some god-awful place.”

“Well, that car of yours is a shitbox, but actually I spent the night at Ms. LaVerne’s.”

“Oh? Details, Jimmy, details.”

“I don’t know where to start. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. But first, I need to ask you something.”


“How do you think Jason would feel about getting fucked in front of an audience?”

“Did you really ask what you just asked?”

“Would he do it?”

“Male or female audience?”

“Likely both.”

“He’d be mortified—but he’d love it, the exhibitionist slut. Now, Jimmy boy, tell me just what you’ve been up to.”

“I will. First, let me tell you about a little patch of Eden—called Strange Lands.”

© 2017 Robert Buckley. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

About the Author Robert Buckley

Bob’s stories have appeared in numerous anthologies, including multiple editions of Maxim Jakubowski’s Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica.

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