2. Pick a number between 1 and 10. Shit you lose now take off your clothes.

I must send my thanks to whoever sent me the one about rat poop in the glue on envelopes because I now use a wet towel with every envelope that needs sealing.

Also, now I scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's novena has granted my every wish.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an email to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

I no longer drink Coca Cola because I've learned that it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer buy gasoline without taking a man along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put "Under God" on their cans.

I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.

I now know that I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face - disfiguring me for life.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.

I no longer shop at Target’ since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda, Singapore, and Uzbekistan.

I no longer have any sneakers -- but that will change once I receive my free replacement pair from Nike.

I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.

Thanks to my many internet friends, I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt.

And thanks to the great advice, I will never pick up $5.00 I dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 PM this afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician...

Have a wonderful day....

PS: A South American scientist from Argentina, after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain and sexual activity read their e-mail with their hand on the mouse.

Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late. .....

A warning - this story contains non-consensual sex, something I am in no way advocating. I wasn't even sure I wanted to write about it but the story seemed to go this way and I went along with it. And while I hope this doesn't really need to be said, I will say it anyway, sex should always be between consenting adults. Carry on.

I wake to find myself alone in bed. The whistle of the kettle and faint aroma of cinnamon tells me that Isabella is in the kitchen being domestic. Stretching my arms above my head, I catch sight of myself in the mirror across from the bed, and am surprised that what I note first is the look of peace, of contentment I see. Normally, I'd admire or criticize the definition in my arms and chest, decide to amend or stick to my workout regime of the moment but today I find myself rather stunned to see my usual look of stern intensity replaced by one of serenity.

I'm still in bed when I hear her footsteps approach. Waiting for the door to open, I look forward to the smile on her face. The door opens and she's there, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing the denim skirt I bought her that stops midway up her thighs, a simple tee shirt, one of my cardigans that reaches the hem of her skirt and a pair of running shoes.

“Gabriel, Gabriel, I'm glad you're awake. I have an idea, somewhere I'd like to take you. Oh please say yes,” she says, flinging herself on top of me. The excitement in her voice is endearing, her eyes, those damn eyes, sparkle with enthusiasm. I find it hard to say no to her when she's like this, the little girl inside the woman touches me, even though I have not the slightest idea what she's planning. At the same time I feel the low rumble of the beast, intent it seems on corrupting any innocence he encounters.

“And just what are you planning, my pretty little bitch,” I say grabbing the hair at the back of her neck, pulling her towards me for a kiss, pushing the beast back but knowing that the longer I keep him restrained the harder he'll strike when he's finally free.

She feels my cock harden underneath her, and reaches behind her back to stroke me through the covers, eyes fixed hard on mine, she groans and then laughs, shaking her head, her ponytail whipping from side to side. Bending, she kisses me, “I'm sure we'll have time for that later,” she says.

“So what are these plans, Isabella?”

“I looked outside this morning, and it's such a beautiful day, Indian summer. It's so warm and sunny and it made me think of my favorite place in the world, well, maybe not in the world but in New York. It's not all that far, I thought we could drive up. I made muffins and found some travel mugs, I thought we could eat breakfast in the car and leave right away. I made sandwiches for lunch but I couldn't find a backpack though I'm sure you must have one hidden somewhere around here.”

The words just seem to spill from her; her excitement is contagious, although the thought of eating in my car is utterly foreign to me. I have my standards, after all, and eating in my car is positively uncivilized. But the expectant look in her eyes seems to temper me, I imagine I could let her eat her muffin and force myself to drink from a travel mug this one time. And perhaps, whispers the beast darkly, make her pay for that later.

“Can you get showered and ready? It will probably be a two hour drive, it will be better to be there early, more pleasant to hike.”

“You're going like that,” I query, “in a skirt?”

“It's all a trail, you'll see, no real climbing though I recall they added a ladder in one place, but it's seems too warm for jeans. I prefer to be cool.”

I pull her to me, kiss her softly but deeply, enjoying how soft and pliant her body becomes as she yields to me. I watch as her eyes close, lids lightly fluttering, lashes long, black and lush even without mascara. She sighs as I break the kiss, but a smile plays over her lips as she tells me to hurry. I watch her ass, thinking of sinking my teeth into the firm flesh right where her cheek meets her upper thigh, as she races from the room in search of the elusive backpack.

In the shower I realize I don't even know where we're going. That fact alone confirms to me how she's succeeded in changing me. I love her; therefore I make allowances, willingly but not thoughtlessly, no, never thoughtlessly. The beast inside however softly whispers that eventually she'll pay for these allowances, love or not. Still, this is her day and I am determined to let her have it, breakfast in the car and all.

The day is warm and sunny with a light breeze that stirs the wisps of hairs around her face which have escaped the tight band that secures her thick raven locks. I realize with a start that this is the first time I've seen her in the sunlight and she seems to be drinking in it warmth. As I open the garage, she waits on the curb, backpack slung over one shoulder, coffee mugs in hand, eyes closed, her face upturned to the sun, softly smiling.

I back out of the car, a Mercedes SLK, black with cream interior that makes me cringe at the thought of coffee stains, lower the top to as much to see Isabella with her hair whipping about as to take advantage of the unseasonable warmth. Getting out to close the garage door, Isabella approaches, “Oh, I love convertibles, Gabriel. This is a different car then the one from, er, that, that night.”

“Yes. I rarely take this car into the city. But I like to explore on the weekends, so I treated myself a bit.”

“Can I drive,” she asks, but quickly noting my expression she adds, “Too much isn't it, Gabriel? I ask too much.”

“Yes, pet, you certainly do. Now get in, I thought you were in a rush.”

Situated inside, she arranges mugs in holders, and tells me we need to get Route 52 in Ellenville which is off Route 17.

“Want to tell me now exactly where we're going?”

“No, but I can't keep the secret any longer, so okay, yes. Sam's Point Preserve. It used to be called Ice Cave Mountains. You'll love it, Gabriel, the views are stunning. It's one of the only places my father ever took me. I make sure I go back at least once a year. It's changed so much though. I sort of miss the way it was way back then.”

“What's changed?”

She answers as she opens the backpack, unwraps a muffin, breaks off a piece and brings it to my lips. Inwardly I cringe, but I do my best to keep it to myself, and the muffin is damn good.

“When we first went, there was this little gift shop that sold the admission tickets at the base. It was this rustic cabin filled with silly things like those Indian beaded belts and geodes and plastic dinosaurs. I think I still have one of those belts somewhere, I remember it vividly. It said Ice Cave Mountains in multi-colored beads. An old married couple ran it, it was sweet and quaint and charming. It's been replaced by a modern building, that's nice but rather cold, no charm. It's generic, you see. Before, you could drive all the way to the top. The drive was so beautiful; my favorite part was always this utterly still lake, Lake Maratanza, it's one of five sky lakes. It made me wish I could find such stillness inside of me. I never have,” she says eyes suddenly downcast, “until now, with you, when I'm entirely spent, even after you've hurt, especially after that, I feel oddly at peace. As still, as deep, as that lake.”

I reach for her chin with one hand, flash her a smile and ask for another bite of muffin. It lightens the mood and she's able to continue.

“I used to go alone with my father, my mother was never one for nature. He had an old corvette. A ’69. It was black, with T-tops and a rear window that popped out. Even in the winter, the few times he'd take me for a drive, the top would be off and we'd wear hats and scarves and gloves. The heat would be blasting. I thought he really loved me those times, Gabriel. He wanted to be just with me, but then once we got back home, it was always the same, too busy, too much work, too many charities and of course, my mother.”

“I remember once, Gabriel,” she says, her eyes lighting up, “on the way down from the top, my dad put the car in neutral and just let it sail down the mountain. It was so exciting. I miss those times.”

She takes out her own muffin after she's fed me mine, and eats in silence. I turn on the radio, not wanting to bother with CD's; in my rush I forgot my ipod. We drive in companionable silence until she sees the sign for the turn off and her excitement becomes evident.

We pay our fee for parking, take a trail map and decide on the path through the caves that will lead us to Sam's Point and views of the Shawangunks. The walk is easy, as she said it would be, in the few rougher places I grab her hand and help her a bit. She sees a little stream that clearly stands out in her memory and stops to dip her hands in it and scoop up water to drink and splash on her face; she encourages me to do the same.

“This stream means that the caves are close, Gabriel. It wasn't a very cold winter and the summer has been so warm, I doubt there'll be ice but it will be remarkably colder inside.”

We come to a wooden door and I hold it open for her as we enter the cave. It's cold and the walls are slick with moisture, not frozen but close. There are railings in place where the caves drop off; she leans over and looks down into the deep crevice. Her skirt rises enough for me to just glimpse the bottom of her ass. It's enough to make me hard.

“Come here, bitch” I say and my voice rebounds through the cave.

“Gabriel….”

I approach her, pressing her back against the rough, frigid wall. My fingers move under her skirt, finding her slicker than the rock that supports her. My cardigan has long ago been removed and placed in the backpack, and she shivers in my grasp from the chill that penetrates her thin t-shirt and the feel of my fingers separating her folds, preparing to delve into the warmth of her sex.

“Someone could come,” she whispers in my ear, tensing her cunt around the digits inside her.

“We'd hear them from miles off, pet. Leave it to me to worry about, you just be my obedient little bitch.”

In answer she draws her legs up and wraps them around my waist as one hand works my zipper, finally freeing my throbbing erection. She looks into my eyes, brings her hand to her mouth and licks it before encasing my cock in her hand again, stroking me until I can take no more and slap her hand away, to place my cock at her entrance. She's so wet that I decide I want her ass. I rub my cock along her puffy lips, collecting her juices, pushing her even more roughly into the wall as my finger moves to prepare her. She gasps at the intrusion, my face is buried in her shoulder but I look up and see her eyes filled with a silent plea as she mouths, “No, please, no.”

I ignore her, place my cock up against her opening, working it slowly inside while savoring her groans, knowing they're a mixture of pleasure and pain. Once fully inside, I show her no mercy. I batter her and she yells so loudly I tell her to bite my shoulder to stifle her screams.

One hand, fingers splayed wide for purchase rests against the cool, damp stone as I move the other to her engorged clit. I strum her like a fine instrument, knowing exactly which chords to play to make her hum and vibrate, her song one of sighs and gasps and moans that are sweeter to my ears than any music.

“Oh god, oh my god, oh god….Gabriel…..I'm coming, coming…coming,” she whimpers as her body convulses against mine, the muscles in her ass milking my cock as I come with her, slamming her one last time hard, maybe too hard, into the rock.

We both lean there for long moments, collecting our breath. I feel my come begin to leak onto my thigh as it seeps out of her. She unwraps her legs from my waist and stands up; I open the backpack, and get out some napkins so we can clean ourselves up. She stands on her toes to reach my lips, I bend to meet her mouth and feel her body tremble, the chill of the caves has finally caught up with her. I retrieve the cardigan and wrap it around her slender shoulders before taking her hand and leading her down the slippery downhill path out of the caves. When it becomes so narrow in places that we have to go single file, I lead making sure her hand is firmly in mine until we emerge into the open once again, the magnificent vistas of the Shawangunks with their striated cliffs stretching before us.

We make our way to Sam's Point and stop there, looking out from the limestone ridge scattered with low scraggly pygmy pine. Isabella points out High Point Monument, the highest point in New Jersey she tells me, only visible on a brilliantly clear day such as today. We continue walking back to the car, stopping occasionally to admire the red-tailed hawks as they glide along until encountering thermals and buffeting up higher only to spread their wings and glide once again.

Back at the car, she slips the cardigan off her shoulders and I see the back of her white t-shirt is streaked with a line of crimson.

“Isabella, let me look at that.”

“At what,” she says looking at me quizzically.

“Your back, there's blood on your shirt,” I say as I lift it and see a shallow scrap, no doubt caused by banging her into the rock wall in the cave.

“It seems you always manage to hurt me,” she says in that petulant way that combined with the sight of her blood rouses the beast.

I ignore her comment, and we get into the car for a leisurely drive back that finds us stopping at several little antique shops and farm stands. She leans into me, rests her head on my shoulder and closes her eyes.

“Did you enjoy your day, Isabella?”

“Oh yes, so much, thank you, Gabriel,” she says without opening her eyes.

“I'm glad, pet. There's just one thing you'll do for me in return.”

She opens her eyes and tilts her head, looking up at me. “What's that,” she asks.

“I want to hurt you when we get back. I need to hurt you. It's that simple.”

I feel the tension jolt through her. Her body becomes so taut that I think if I touch her she'll vibrate. Finally, she sighs.

“Yes, Gabriel. I think I may need that too,” she says.

Then she lays her head on my shoulder and closes her eyes again. I feel the tension leave her body and when I glance down minutes later, she is asleep.

I smile to myself, enjoying how she looks like a little girl slumbering with her pony tail, short skirt, sneakers and peaceful expression and the thought of how she'll look like anything but a little girl in just a matter of hours.

(Click Here for Part 15)
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BLANKET
BLINDFOLD
BREEZE
KISS
GRAPE
STRAWBERRY
BANANA
KISS
APPLE
CHERRY
KISS
TORTILLA
CHEESE
WATER
KISS
CHOCOLATE
ICE
AND ME
KISS