textfiles/sex/EROTICA/T/trinit13.txt

                      Chapter Thirteen

     High on our list were Jim Wells and Kathy Steward, the former
television news stars.  I say former because The Mole had exposed
not only their love affair but also their three-way with me.  His
magazine had paid our detective for a copy of the tape of the three
of us in Kathy's hotel room.  They became immediate stars in adult
videos when the scandal destroyed their careers and their marriages.
They were good to watch together.  Our business always got a big
boost.
     Oh, yes, our business.  We had to give up the ministry, of
course.  The National Personality articles pulled no punches.  Our
names and faces were better known than the President's.  We
capitalized on it.  We entered a new business which was not only
more profitable than our ministry had been for us, but also more
honest -- for us, I mean.
     Trinity Productions.  Videos, books, magazines, and the most
exciting adult entertainment house in the world.  We were
headquartered in Storey county only an hour's drive from Reno.
Prostitution is legal there, and we developed the most creative menu
ever.  Daddy was CEO since he really was a master manager of a big
business.  Mom ran our whorehouse, Sisters of Sierra, a name we
borrowed from Kennedy's article on Christina and me.
     The most exciting thing for me was getting to know so many
stars in our business.  It was a cunt-gladdening experience to learn
that most of them were even sexier and more uninhibited than they
were in the videos.  You'll understand if I do not identify them too
clearly.
     There was one porn star named Barbara I had long admired.
That's putting it mildly.  I had a collection of every tape she was
ever in.  I was in her fan club and used to write letters to her all
the time through a magazine and tell her I was in love with her.
Her return letters were a love-struck young girl's treasure.  The
only time I ever got mad enough to hit Daddy was when he tried to
tell me her letters were probably written by some male writer on the
magazine and that I just had a school-girl crush.
     I was already famous and well beyond crushes when I finally got
to meet her.  Daddy had made a deal to let my favorite producer use
our facilities to make a movie.
     "I have a special birthday present for you, Sweetheart," Daddy
teased.  "I think you'll like it."
     "A new car!"
     "You already have three new cars.  This is something you don't
have, something I happen to know you want."
     "Give it to me, give it to me!" I said excitedly.
     "You have to join Paul and me for a late dinner at Cheryl's
Tahoe."
     "Oh, Daddy!  Paul's a great producer and director, and I love
him in bed, but business talk is boring, boring, boring." I bored my
finger into his navel.  "I pass."
     "No present."

     I went, of course.  Paul was waiting at our reserved set of
semi-circular booths in a special section.  So were about twenty
other people, including my family and some friends and some folks I
only knew from videos.  Everybody started singing Happy Birthday.
     Then I saw Barbara was sitting beside Paul.  She wasn't
singing.  She was just looking at me with that incomparably
beautiful face, smiling at me.  She knew!  They had told her about
my infatuation with her, and she knew she was my special present.
     When she smiled that Barbara smile, her entire face smiled.
Her eyes smiled, just like they do in the movies.  A calm,
beautiful, California-healthy smile that made you feel good.  You
felt like you were in the presence of a gracious princess.  I felt
like inferior people in high school must have felt when they were
near me and I smiled at them and accepted them into my presence.
     I scooted around the booth to her.  We looked at each for an
electrifying moment, her most excellent radiance outside the range
of belief.  In person and up close.  That face, those twinkling
eyes.  Her delicate sweet breath, the light scent of honeysuckle
emanating from her.  I was mesmerized.
     "I love you," I said numbly.  My IQ had dropped about fifty
points.
     Barbara leaned to me and kissed me right on the lips!  I felt
myself going limp.  Her mouth followed mine as I sank bank against
the booth.  I barely heard the others applauding and hooting.  She
touched my face and chewed slowly on my mouth.  All my soft
reflexes, uh, reflexed.  I chewed back.  Her tongue entered my mouth
deliciously.  I reciprocated with my own, and we lollygagged in each
other's mouths, sucking tongues, wallowing, deliberately swapping
saliva.
     My free hand found her bare thigh under her short flowing
skirt, and I jumped when I touched it, realizing whose it was. My
God, I was touching a leg I had yearned to feel.  Barbara's legs
were the most beautiful in the business, and I had seen them only on
television screens.  Smooth and full, proportioned and shaped to
compel desire.  I pictured them as I moved my hand up her leg and
stroked its fullness and smoothness and squeezed the pliable,
womanly flesh.  The front of Barbara's leg, the side of her leg, the
back of her leg. I pictured a scene I saw her do where she had laid
that very part of the back of her leg on a woman's face.  And now I
was actually feeling it.
     She drew back slightly and let me look at her.  She inserted
two fingers into my mouth.  I gazed into those eyes and looked all
over her face still in a dream that it was really Barbara.  She held
me by the back of my neck and sensually finger-fucked my mouth.  She
shared her fingers with me, first in my mouth, then in hers, then
mine.  Face, leg, mouth, Barbara, all of heaven in one woman.  One
by one, she inserted all her fingers into my mouth.  Her perfect
face, never distorted as some actresses do, her fingers, the hold
she had on me, her breath on my face, her smell, her softness, her
Barbarousness.
     "Get down under the table and suck me off," she breathed.
     Just like her movie scenes.  She always controlled the action,
and whoever was with her of either sex was always glad to follow her
lead.  I had read an interview of another famous actress who said
she had sex with Barbara on screen and then showed up at her home
for more.  She said she almost gave up men altogether after sex with
Barbara.
     I wasn't about to give up men by any stretch of the
imagination, but for that moment no one existed in my world but
Barbara.  I would have done absolutely anything she wanted right
then.
     She urged me down and I slithered off the seat like a melting
snake until I was on the floor with my face between her legs.  I
rested my chin on the seat and peered into womanhood of the first
order as she pulled her skirt slowly up and clear over her soft,
luscious stomach.  There was Barbara's pussy, not the grotesque
unshaved pussy of porn video but the blond, well-groomed, soft, warm
fuzzy of a real pussy.  There was her famous tatoo inviting me to
kiss it, but I stayed where I was letting indelible memory images
burn themselves into my brain.  I whispered her name over and over
to be sure those images were always associated with Barbara.
     She understood completely and sat above me permitting me my
visual brain feast.  I felt her calf muscles and memorized her legs,
every movement creating a new memory to blend with every other of
muscle and tissue interplay.  The fine girl-down of blond hairs on
her belly and stomach, the alluring, trance-inducing up-and-down
movement of her stomach when she breathed.  Her rounded succulent
breasts now exposed to my lusting eye when she opened her blouse.


     I was grateful there was no director moving us around or
switching my view before I was ready.  Barbara would determine all
that for me with her innate sense of timing.
     The calf muscle in my left hand flexed, and I felt from calf to
foot as she raised one leg.  I slipped her shoe off as it passed
the screening station of my hand.  When she put her bare foot in my
face, I grabbed myself between my legs and squeezed.  I manipulated
myself in time with Barbara as she pushed her foot against my face.
     God, what a woman it takes to understand so much.  Only a woman
like Barbara knows that everything is sensual, every place on her a
source of erotic pleasure both for her and for her consort,
everything from the pretty bow in her pretty hair to the bottom of
her foot.  I licked the bottom of Barbara's foot!  I couldn't
believe I was getting to do that.
     I understood why women must have fallen in love with her as
easily as men.  She knew.  This woman knew, and she was bold enough
to do what she wanted to do without concern for whether it was
acceptable or embarrassing.  She knew to act on what pleased her and
not to worry about whether it might also please her partner.  Her
sex partners had the same freedom; it was up to them to use it, not
up to her to wonder what they wanted.  She did whatever turned her
on.  If her partner was passive, she used them.  If her partner was
active and creative, she cooperated equally with them.
     My tongue committed the lines on the bottom of Barbara's foot
to memory.  I traced them with the end of my tongue, I licked with
the flat of my tongue, I kissed and drooled on the bottom of her
foot like a food fiend with a chocolate eclair.  The pace of my
masturbating hand measured my increasing excitement.  When Barbara
moved her foot down my face and pushed all five toes into my mouth,
I was so glad and thankful I wanted to cry from a sense of
overwhelming gratitude for what she was willing to do.
     She was rubbing her pussy as I sucked her toes and felt her
legs.  The moment was nearing now, and I would be tasting her and
having her in my face.  I knew from having watched her so many times
that it wouldn't be a simple she-sits-there-while-I-suck fuck.
Barbara was known for uninhibited positions you'd think you'd see
more of but seldom do in porn flicks.  I loved it when Paul was the
director because he backed the camera off so you could see.
     Paul!  My God, I had forgotten he was sitting beside her. I had
forgotten where I was and that there were a good twenty people in
our party.  When Barbara slipped her foot out of my mouth, I looked
around as best I could from under the table.  Most of them had
forgotten me, too.
     Paul had his pants clear off and was masturbating slowly,
watching Barbara and me.
     I recognized Daddy's beautiful erection in the mouth of an
actress named Robin who could ejaculate like a man when she cum.
That was, if I was not mistaken, Christina's foot probing up into
Robin's twat.
     Yonder was my mother with Peter's dick in her mouth; Darlene
was probably the only one there who could take Peter's pressure-
boiler of copious white cum and not get any on the seat. Or the
ceiling, in Peter's case.
     I made a mental note to arrange a three-way with Peter and
Robin, the geyser and the gusher.  I would swim and bathe in their
cum, wash my hair in it, gargle it.
     Say, I wonder if you could bottle that stuff and sell it as
mouthwash or shampoo to an informed citizenry.  It would be the only
alcohol-free mouthwash on the market.  Safe to swallow and
inherently fortified with protein.  Can you see the ads?  For people
who want their breath to smell like the stars'.  You've heard of
summa cum laude, the highest grade average; now there's Trinity Cum
Swallowit for your sexiest breath.  As long as we didn't let
Christina name the products, we'd be ok.  WomanFuck Breath.  Use
CuntSlime Deluxe for those close moments.  Enriched with Bartholin
to keep that sheen in your hair.  Oil of Twat, a natural lubricant.
Wonderful if swallowed.  We could manufacture our own chewing gum.
Barrett's Bubble Cum, all you do is stick your tongue in it and
blow.
     Barbara had turned us both around while I was exploring
merchandising possibilities.  Sorry you missed that.  My head and
upper back lay on the seat, and Barbara was giving me sex in the
mouth.  A forward face fucking as only Barbara can administer it.
No one who has sex with Barbara ever feels like they're sucking or
fucking a disembodied body part.  She looks at you, touches you,
crinkles her eyes, shows her dimples when she smiles at you.  You
know you are with someone, a person with a personality who knows
you're there with her.
     And, oh my God, can she fuck a mouth!  I looked up the length
of her sexy body and into her eyes and back down as she fucked and I
sucked.  Even when my vertical panorama was narrowed to eye-to-cunt
contact in her crotch, I still felt like I was with a real human
being who could say my name if she chose and look me in the eye when
we were done.  I also knew there was a moment during a Barbara
orgasm when only her pussy and private thoughts and secret language
were known to her and that I would be a thing for that moment.
     She began to tug at my head and face and I felt hands on my
breasts which groped their way down and under my buttocks. It took a
little study midst my sucking off Barbara to realize she and Paul
were moving me around to get me up on the seat so Paul could fuck
me.
     "Fuck her face," Paul said.  Forever the director, I guess, but
watching Barbara use my mouth had to be a turn-on for this horny
cockster.  She was his favorite star.
     No doubt a turn-on.  He had been masturbating and watching, and
now he entered me and was fucking me.  He didn't last long, but it
felt good while it did.
     Barbara decided to stand over me awhile.  Unless you've been
there -- and many have -- you cannot imagine the sights and
sensations you experience when Barbara rises to her feet over your
face.  Unlike what they show you in porn flicks, Barbara gives you
plenty of time to enjoy gazing at her.  She'll be looking down at
you much of the time, so you continue to know you're a real person
interacting with a real person.  When you're with Barbara in
reality, there is no thought of using a fast-forward button.
     Beside your face are her ankles.  Don't leave them out: they're
part of Barbara.  The ankles are connected to the: shins of her.
The calves of her legs are: glor-ious.  Right above them are her:
knee caps.  Around on the back are the: knee backs.  The knees are
connected to the: thighs of her.
     Pause wherever you will, it is Barbara Herself who is standing
above you with all the confidence that comes with being who she is.
Look at that stomach and think how much you want to bury your face
in it.  Those tits of perfect size for her.  And there is that
wonderful face.  She may be smiling, or she may be simply looking at
you without expression.  It depends on the mood she prefers at the
moment.  She may even be looking off, and you can work that into
your preferred fantasy easily enough.  Unlike some actresses,
though, she will not be gawking up at the ceiling because there is
nothing up there that's relevant and because it doesn't fit any
fantasy.
     Ah, fantasy!  Without it, we are animals and sex is mechanics.
Nothing is more real than Barbara, but she understands fantasies and
gives you plenty of opportunity to construct them.
     Did I not mention her crotch and pussy in the inventory just
now?  That's because they are on their way down to your eyes.  You
are possessed by the ripples and indentations created in her legs as
she lowers herself slowly down on you. If you have your hands on her
calves, you feel the soft ridge and valley formed by the flexing
muscles there.  Look up at her inner thighs, though, for there you
will behold a lustworthy sight found nowhere else in the universe
but on a woman.  Close your eyes a moment and picture that.  Now
remember that I was looking at it in real life.  Understand what I
was going through?  The thrill is almost unbearable.


     "Barbara," I prayed weakly.  "Barbara."
     No expression on her lovely face.  No answer.  God, what
a perfect woman with perfect wisdom and understanding of the
importance of mood.
     I became aware that one of the actors had jacked off on
me and had shot his load on my tits and stomach.  I rubbed it
all over my tits and licked my fingers.
     "God damn, this young stuff is a turn-on!  I'm coming
back for seconds.  I got to get inside her."  It was Jerry. 
A good actor, one helluva lay, and a clown.
     "Somebody fuck me, for God's sake," I pleaded with the
little breath I could spare.  Barbara was poised not more than
a cock-length above my face, and I needed to go off.
     She decided to reverse herself and sit facing the other
direction.  She stood up and turned around and started back
down.  As her magnificent ample buttocks descended, I glanced
down to see that Jim Wells was answering my plea to be fucked
and was preparing to mount me.
     Perfect.  Jim, with the beautiful manly smooth body, a
big hard cock that always looked pink and new, and of renowned
staying power, was my pussy's best friend.  I would get fucked
long and well now.
     Barbara's ass covered my face.  I held my breath as long
as I could to remain enshrined in legs and hips.  Jim entered
me all the way in one thrust, and I tilted my head back to
gasp.  Brain cell damage prevented, I adjusted my face in
Barbara again so I could breathe and suck without interrupting
her movements or my pleasure.
     Slurp suck slurp suck slurp suck, ahhhhh.  Suck suck
slurp suck suck suck, ahhhhh.  The rhythm method.
     Barbara fucked.  Jim fucked.  I fucked and sucked.  Jim
and Barbara were kissing and he was fondling her titties. 
Barbara was squeezing my titties and pinching my nipples, and
I was feeling her legs and ass and the curvature of her body
at her waist.
     My nose was probing her asshole, and my open mouth was
securely covered in juicy Barbara cunt.  She tasted delicious,
absolutely delicious.  She was juicing up good, and I sucked
it into my mouth and drank it.
     With a minor realignment on her part, my nose slid up
into her soupy hole, and I attended to her clitoris with all my
skills.  She fucked my nose and wiped her ass in my eyes.  Her
weight increased as she sat up on my face and alternated
between a grinding fuck and a vibrating fuck.  I felt her
hands encircling my neck, but I knew she would be careful not
to break my neck even if she started cumming.
     Jim's ramrod filled my cavity.  We fit together as though
a master designer had matched us.  Ideal friction and
tolerance, precisely the right amount of lubrication, the fuck
action operating according to specification in the Great Book
of Sexual Sculpting, machine parts of high quality materials
built to endure industrial strength sex for long periods of
time.
     With Barbara sitting high on my face, my arms were free
to reach out and touch someone.  I ran my hands up her
sweating body and grasped her breasts.  I held her nipples
twixt thumbs and forefingers and rolled them.  If her legs had
not been clamped against my ears, I'm sure I would have heard
her moan.  Imagine it!  Me, giving pleasure to Barbara!
     What women like, men like, so I diversified my tit-
tweaking.  One hand for Barbara and one hand for Jim. 
Barbara's chest and Jim's chest were chests of treasure for my
hands and fingers.  I felt manliness in one hemisphere of my
brain and womanliness in the other.  I switched hands and
hemispheres and let myself be aware of the different
sensations I received.  Try it sometime when you're
masturbating.  You'll be amazed at the difference in
sensations the two hands receive.
     Tit tweaking was doing something to my partners.  So were
my pussy and mouth, and so was the sight and feel of me under
them.  They increased their pace almost simultaneously, and I
increased my fuck movements and sucking action to match
theirs.  We were fucking good, and I had the best of both
worlds.  Soon, I knew, they would cum in me.  Jim would cum in
me where I fucked, and Barbara would cum in me where I sucked,
and both these beautiful virtuosos of sex would cum in what
they were fucking: me.
     My orgasm caught me off guard.  My body had gone ahead
while my mind was integrating fantasies and maximizing
pleasures.  My internal fires ignited.  My pussy contractions
would have collapsed my walls if Jim's beam had not braced
them.  His fuck movements in and out of me and my vaginal
gripping and grinding around his snug-fitting tool launched us
into a warp in the space-time continuum.
     Barbara went with us.  She was all over my face, sliding
and hunching and shaking and humping and fucking and grinding
and pressing.  Then the characteristic Barbara motion when her
juice suddenly increases, the fast pressing into my mouth
while vibrating.
     It is only for that moment that she forgets you as a
person and uses you as a sex object.  I couldn't see her face
from her crotch, of course, but I had seen her hundreds of
times and I knew what she was doing.  Her eyes seem to roll
back in her head, her face loses all expression, and she's
saying something over and over no one can hear.  It looks like
she's saying "fuck fuck fuck fuck."  Her brightness is
transferred from her face and brain to other parts of her
body.  It is a wonderful moment to be a part of.  Barbara
cumming in your mouth.
     She sat on my face long after she was done.  Just sat
there with her soft stuff in my face.  I memorized the
sensations to play back later.  This was a session I wanted
permanently locked in my fantasy vault.  No girl has ever had
such a twenty-first birthday.
     Jim was replaced by somebody's mouth.  I could tell it
was a girl, but I didn't know who.  She sucked his cum out of
me and cleaned my pussy and crotch, whoever it was.  Somebody
started licking my legs before she was done, and still another
mouth, a man's, was sucking the sweat off my body and tits. 
I could tell from the shaking he was jacking off at the same
time.
     Barbara finally climbed off my face and helped me sit up. 
Covered with cum and a face that looked thoroughly fucked, a
totally satisfied pussy, and my body and legs licked clean, I
felt beautiful.
     Everybody started clapping, and I took a well-deserved
bow.  I had been face-fucked, fucked in the pussy, jacked off
on, sucked between my legs, and licked all over.
     Paul said he was stupid not to have captured it all on
film.  Daddy said, "No problem, Paul.  From the satisfied,
proud look on her face, my guess is she'd be willing to go
through the whole thing again.  Right, Trinity?"
     We all laughed.

     I was twenty-one years old.  In less than three short
years since I had started fucking, I had revolutionized many
lives and careers.  Because of me, many people had found their
true and honest niche in life, and others had returned to
their faith with a firm dedication they might never have known
but for the experience I gave them.
     But the most spiritually satisfying achievement and the
one that means the most to me personally was that I had
reunited our family.  We were a tribe that had had the good
fortune of finding ourselves in this world, an honest life
none of us had known before.  We would never again be
separated, nor would any of us ever have occasion to employ
those tricks of mind that enable many to justify living a life
devoid of personal integrity.
     We do not condemn folks trapped in their lifestyles, nor
do we cast aspersions on folks who deviate from time to time
from their public persona.  They have to live in this world,
and that often means keeping secret their little wishes and
fantasies and obsessions.  If you're one of these, don't make
it worse by hating yourself.  Get fucked!

--end chapter 13--
--end of The Book of Trinity--
--"Trinity Barrett" (Wilma)--