Chapter 3

2010

I was a bit in love with Allen the delivery driver. I mean, we had good sex, and lots of it; but I was 90 years old, I’d had plenty of sex in my life. Was I a woman who fell in love with any man who I slept with, or was this a side effect of the treatments that I’d had? I tried to remember what it was like when I really was 16, back in 1936.

I’d enjoyed making out with my boyfriend, the intimacy, the touch, his orgasms and mine too. I’d loved him; it’s not the joy that proves it, but the pain at separation. I remembered that pain. My own father participated as my boyfriend and the other jews of our town were executed by Nazis while I watched. It was extremely traumatic, I was damaged after that and it was hard to quantify my emotional state.

I thought of other men I’d known. Good men, and bad ones too. And I realized the answer was no; because I’d never loved the Nazis I’d had sex with while I was a spy, even though the sex itself was quite pleasurable. I’d had many lovers later in my life, and I hadn’t been this vulnerable. Allen was a good man it seemed, and it was conceivable that I might have strong emotions for him eventually.

My emotions were totally out of whack. It had only been 2 weeks and we’d done it together 8 times.

“Why don’t you come with me when I go south tomorrow.” He suggested as we lay side by side, sweat and sex coating our breathless bodies, my belly digesting his excretions. “Come live in my real house.”

I wanted to; my emotions said YES. My experienced old mind said no. I sat up, and my big tits rolled around to hang in front of me. I saw myself in the mirror on the far wall. Damn, nice tits I thought. Killer tits like I used to have, long long ago.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because, you need a place, and I have one, and, well, I think I love you.” He grunted.

Fuck.

“Do you fall in love with every hitchhiker you pick up?” I asked.

“No! And I’ve picked up plenty, and brought a few home too.” He admitted, “I don’t know why I feel this way, I don’t know a thing about you. You just appeared, jumped in my truck, then in my bed, now in my heart.”

“Listen Allen, this love thing, it’s nonsense.” I said, “We had great sex, and then all these hormones flood our brains, and we feel this way.”

“So you feel it too.” He noted.

“Yes, but I’m saying no.” I told him. “You don’t know me. What I really am.”

“I don’t care!” he said desperately, “Don’t you understand? That’s what love is all about.”

“I do understand. Love is crazy, literally. And then it fades, and you regret it. I told you Allen, I’m older than I look.”

I stayed as he drove south again, he’d be back in 4 days. I knew my brain would gel up before he got back. I was experimenting on that, using a computer program to test my intelligence every day, quantifying the effect, working out just how much semen I needed at what intervals to stay at full power. Of course, that was only using one man as a source, other men might have more or less of the required ingredient. Research is a process, it takes time and every experiment needs to be repeated many times.

Eddie, the owner of the building who lived below Allen’s apartment, was disabled and needed home help. I moved in with him; I didn’t have sex with him though, he was completely impotent. I checked to be sure, and it really didn’t work at all. So I would go upstairs and do it with Allen when he was there. It was rough on him, I was just using him for sex and semen. It was tough on me too, because Allen was away for a up to a week at a time, and I really needed it daily.

Of course I could have easily found another guy, willing men and boys were everywhere; even that little town had hundreds of them. Only I didn’t want to do that. We were sort of in love, and it would hurt us both when I left there. I wouldn’t betray him before that. Besides, I was in a safe place and if my mind wasn’t at 100% every day, it didn’t matter.

Eddie’s apartment was a good place for me. An honest job, a place to hide out, and someone to talk to. Eddie was fun, smart, still sharp as a tack. We watched movies on TV, told jokes, and he told me his war stories which were pretty tame compared to mine. No one came to see the old man; no one knew I was there, except Allen.

I needed an identity. I solid one I could build on, with a decent chance of lasting me for my life, however long (or short) that might be. The only way I could think of was to find a dead person, without a death certificate being issued. And the way to maybe, possibly pull that off was by working in a coroner’s office. Over the next few months, I worked on that goal.

Using internet search first, then social media, I identified 40 or 50 possibilities, then slowly focused on a few, then down to just one.

Doug was a lonely man. I wrote on his comments first, not always agreeing. Then messaged him a few times, asking about technical things that girls who looked like me were not usually interested in. Then I video called him. I liked Doug; he had a sense of humor. He wasn’t good looking, and had no dress sense. His hair was thinning.

Men are so easy; you just let them talk, laugh at their jokes, and smile a little. Within a short time, they’re eating out of a girl’s hand. Or whatever. Eddie wasn’t going to last much longer. His pain kept increasing, and so did his meds.

I liked him, he was almost as old as I was and had been an infantryman in the war. I asked him if he’d killed Nazis and he said he had. I slept in his bed with him; he liked that, even though we never had sex, not even oral. Sometimes, in the dark of the night, I held his failing body against mine. He sighed, relaxed, and I knew it helped him.

“I want you to have everything when I die.” He told me through a fog of opiates. “The building is paid for, it’s worth a million at least.” I stroked his withered face kindly; I had a fake ID barely good enough to buy beer with, I couldn’t inherit anything.

“My son will be here right after I’m gone, don’t let him have any of it!” the old man instructed.

I wasn’t ready to leave yet, I needed to keep him alive for a while. And then something happened; Allen called and told me two men had turned up at his residence in the south, looking for me. A tall thin one, and a short fat one.

“Shit! You didn’t tell them anything, did you?”

“No; but I’m not sure they believed me either. It’s time to go to the authorities, Gisele.”

It was indeed time to go, not to any authority though. I had to leave, fast.

Eddie’s condition was bad, and he wanted it to end. I liked the old man, he was good to me. So I helped him. I crushed up his pills, dissolved them in saline, I put the needle into a vein, and his hand on the syringe.

“If you press, it will all be over.” I told him softly.

He stared into my eyes and held my hand desperately with one hand as he pushed the plunger with the other.

“Thank you.” He whispered as the life faded from his eyes. He went limp and after a few minutes his heart stopped. I didn’t regret helping him die, yet it made me feel quite sad.

He’d left his safe open for me, there was considerable cash, rent he’d collected. I took it. Maybe that was wrong, maybe my being alive is wrong.

Whatever; I am alive, and I like it. The sky was bright, the air cold and clear, every day in this body was a gift. I walked out of the building with a pack on my back, nothing to lose, and everything to win.

I hadn’t had any semen in 2 days, and I needed a dose. I walked into the woods behind the high school, and found some boys vaping. 3 teenage boys.

“That’s crazy.” I told them, putting down my pack. “That stuff is addicting.”

“Who are you?” one said, “Do you go to Rosevelt high?”

It took me a moment to realize he was referring to a high school. I had to laugh; it was so great to be alive, to be sexy and strong. All I needed was a mouthful of come, and it was going to be a lot of fun extracting it.

“I’m a prostitute.” I told them, “Do any of you boys have money on you? I’ll blow you for five bucks.”

Just to be clear; I had $40,000 in my pack, I didn’t need the $5. It was simply the quickest way to get a dick into my mouth.

They looked totally shocked; I could have told them I was a Martian. I smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, you heard me, I’ll do it right here, well, behind that tree ok? Who’s first?”

“I don’t have $5.” One said.

“I do!” another said.

“Ok then.” I said, and grabbed his wrist.

He made little resistance as I pulled him around the big tree and stood close to him, breathing into his wide eyes as I opened his trousers by feel.

I was a little taller than he was, which somehow added to the massive inequity of it. I almost balked; then my hand found his hot stiff penis, and I knew I had to have it.

He was beautiful, with skin as clear as a girl. His penis was lovely, 6 inches of hot pulsing promise. I remembered that the taste of boy semen had seemed better to me all those years ago; I wondered if it would be that way now.

I touched his lips lightly with mine, and ran the tip of my tongue across his mouth.

His eyes widened, he went stiff and he grunted with orgasm; I pinched the tip hard between my thumb and forefinger so he couldn’t ejaculate. It was sort of sad; the poor kid had blown his chance for a blowjob. I wasn’t going to waste it though, I squatted down and released it into my mouth, sucking on him as he grabbed my head and seemed to come again.

The boy heaved and shivered; his balls were small and tight, and I wondered where all that semen came from.

“Mmm, good.” I gasped as I stood, “Next!”

I didn’t kiss either of the others, as my mouth would have stank from the first boy. As I got to work on the next, I wondered what the effect to my brain would be from 3 doses of adolescent semen?

That wonderful feeling of stiff penis in the mouth, sliding in and out, the taste and texture of excited male; the anticipation of the coming ejaculation, the deep intense pleasure he was feeling seemed to reflect in myself. There were times when I didn’t like cock sucking; I did it to get the guy going, or because it was expected before fucking.

Now though, with my medical need for the stuff, I’d come to really love the extraction of come. I enjoyed every part of it, the sensations in my mouth and hands, the looks on their faces, the different way they reacted to me, and of course the sweet wonderful precious ejaculation, fresh come to feed my need.

The boys were fast and bountiful. I loved their tight little balls, and the way they grunted and groaned as their penises throbbed in my mouth.

I hadn’t had boy cock in my mouth in a really long time, I tickled and sucked each cock as though it was my last, and each spurted a nice hot lot of semen into my mouth.

Was it a crime? It wasn’t one in the legal sense, as I didn’t take any money from them in the end, but was it wrong for me to fool those school boys into giving me what I wanted?

Well, just put it on my long list of crimes, over on the ‘minor infraction’ column.

That was a joke by the way.

It was also a good experiment; I learned that more stuff does not have more effect, nor does it last significantly longer than a smaller quantity. Whatever it is gets flushed from my body, or converted into something else after a day or two. One good big ejaculation per day was probably the optimum dose, there was a lot more to learn about it though.

And as I said, experiments need to be repeated. If I was going to figure it out, I needed more samples. I needed to stop being emotional and just suck a lot of dick.

I made them give me their beer, which was awful American stuff. I drank it carefully as I walked to the bus station, swishing it around in my mouth before each swallow, to get the smell out.

I took a bus, then another. Carefully zig-zagging towards my goal. I sat in the aisle seat, so I couldn’t be seen through the window. I had no idea how I’d been tracked so close to discovery; facial recognition? I thought that was science fiction, yet something was getting them close to me. From that point on, I never went in public without big dark glasses on.

I took a motel room near Doug’s morgue, and had my white hair dyed black. I bought black clothing, and black makeup. I was posing as a “Goth” girl, fascinated by death.

I got Doug on video again, and asked him about working with the dead; And the more ghoulish he got, the more I flirted. There are girls like that, you see; and I was pretending to be one of them, so he wouldn’t suspect the real reason I was interested in a middle aged coroner. I was supposed to be 22, and he was 58.

“Can we meet?” I asked, “I’m in a motel on Johanna.”

“What, here in Pittsburgh?” He asked.

“Yes.”

I had sex with him for gain; I guess that makes it prostitution. I’m not proud about it, and I’m not ashamed either; I’m a survivor and I’ll do whatever it takes. Besides, he didn’t seem to mind and I needed the seed.

I met Doug at a nearby diner. “I’m real.” I told him with a laugh, and we talked until they threw us out at 2AM. Mainly shop talk; I asked him about his work and he prattled on happily. I was careful not to know too much, just enough so that he could impress me. I liked him, or maybe I convinced myself to like him. Anyway, he seemed decent enough, a good guy.

Who I could use and betray. Yeah, I’d give him what he wanted, and take what I wanted. If he knew my true intent, he might go for it anyway. I’ll never know.

“I want to see a dead person.” I told him excitedly.

Most people have strong reactions to the dead; I did not. I’d worked on cadavers during my medical training, and I’d turned a few men into that state too. I just needed a reasonable cover story to explain why I was into him, and that worked. I hadn’t had come for days by then. The three doses from the school boys had stopped working and I was getting a bit slow in the head.

I’d been hoping my desires would ease up, that whatever biochemistry was driving it would balance out. Instead I’d been salivating every time I talked to an adult male. It was really annoying generally speaking, and now was the time to let it all loose. I was going to fuck and suck the shabby fat insecure coroner, and I was going to enjoy it.

I was wearing a tight black leather miniskirt, which I opened and pushed down over my ass. I had separate stockings on, so I was able to take my panties off while leaving them and my boots on.

His eyes bugged out as he stared at my naked pink vagina, framed by milk white unblemished skin and black clothing.

I don’t think I’ve described my vagina; it’s really very pretty. Especially when I shave the hair away from it. When I’m excited, the lips swell a little, pink and symmetrical. When a man looks in between my white open thighs and sees it, he wants it.

“You’d better do it right now.” I told him urgently as he stared at my open slot, “I’m ready!”

I sat on a tool table with my legs up as Doug opened his trousers and pulled out a very nice looking and stiff 8 inch penis.

I smiled at him with genuine warmth; whether I got what I wanted out of him or not, I really did want sex.

Sure, I like a good looking guy; Doug wasn’t sexy to look at. He was nice though, gentle, smart, and his cock was big, and really hard.

It was great; his rod slid into me easily, and felt good in there as he heaved away, his pudgy face displaying his thrill, his fear, his disbelief as we fucked like crazy in his office. I hoped he wouldn’t come too soon, because I wanted my orgasm as well as his.

I started to come, looking up at the man I’d chosen to use. Yes, I thought; yes! The orgasm was the only thing that was true. He started to come so I pushed him back and quickly slid down onto my ass to get it in my mouth. He grabbed my face and ejaculated, squirting and grunting as he gave me the hot vital fluid I needed. It was good stuff; I could taste that, and I soon felt the effect.

My mind revved up to full power as I rinsed out my mouth at a laboratory sink. This was a comfortable place to me; tiles, stainless steel, analytic lab equipment, bright lighting. I could spend happy hours in this little laboratory.

Life was good then, and my plan was going better than I could have expected. I’d come, and he’d come too. I had hope, and I clung to that.

After we were done, he showed me around some more. They had Xray and ultrasound for forensics. A large office too. I hadn’t put my skirt back on, I walked around the place with my round white cheeks exposed. I’d done it! This was the best place I could possibly be, I’d seduced the coroner of a large city.

“Let’s do it again.” I challenged him, turning and pushing my tits against his torso. I really did want to, for differing reasons. For one, I wanted to do it with a clear head. Two, I just wanted more sex. He wasn’t even 60 yet, he was like a baby to me. I held his heavy body tightly, feeling the heat of him, the strength. His hands caressed my ass, soft sensual hands.

I felt great then; Doug was perfect, I’d hit the jackpot. He had good come, a good cock, he was ok to talk to, and he had the morgue. It might work; and if it didn’t, I wasn’t suffering.

“I don’t think I can.” He admitted, staring at me through his thick square glasses.

“We can go back to my room, have a bath, and then do it.” I insisted, running my fingers through his hair and kissing his mouth with genuine desire.

That was my power; to make myself want who I needed to want. During most of my life, the power had been dormant. I’d never needed to use it after the war was over, until now.

Of course I could have used my sexual power in my career; I chose not to. For me, the science was the fun part, and I was good at that. Position and money were nice too, just not important enough to me to lift my knees for anyone.

The second time with Doug was really good; the motel room had a bathtub and we soaked in it together for a while as we talked some more. Everything I told him was a lie, except the part about wanting more sex. That was probably the only part he cared about anyway.

I stroked his penis and tickled his balls, my big tits floating on the surface of the hot water. He had kind eyes; I focused on them, and his cock, because the rest of him wasn’t very attractive. Eyes and cock was enough for me. Yes, I’d targeted the man, my intent was criminal. I’d give him a lot of pleasure, and a lot of pain too.

Some of those Nazis I’d been in bed with were really good looking. I really didn’t associate good looks with good men, or good sex. What I mean is, Doug’s appearance wasn’t important to me.

He was divorced, two adult children, ex-wife had gotten the house and alimony had wiped him out. Just to let me know he was pretty much broke; I appreciated that he thought I could be a gold digger, and of course I was. It just wasn’t money I was digging for.

We dried off and got into the bed together, I kissed his mouth and fondled his nice penis as the sun rose through the east window. I cradled his balls in my hand too; the precious testicles, home of semen. One day, hopefully, I could find a way to live without it. It was fun and all, but it took a lot of my time and energy to keep these guys coming.

I got on top, rotating my hips as his stiff penis slid in and filled my middle. I wanted it up my vagina this time. My overdrive sexuality was working for me, I rotated and twerked, my big breasts bouncing above my victim, I stared into his eyes, kissed him, he held me tight, I could feel his cock hard inside me, and it felt good. Then I came. Doug’s pudgy face eased into a more basic, steady emotion. He loved me already, poor man. We rolled over so he was on top, and he fucked me with good hard steady thrusts as I stroked his back and ass, as I kissed him with passion that was only half fake.

I wondered why his wife had left him? He was so nice, and a good lover too.

“Yes, yes!” I chanted as he groaned and stiffened, “I need it in there, Doug! Give it to me!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go on, squirt it in there!” I insisted happily. “I want you to do it, come inside me.”

He did, and I smiled up at him thankfully. Although I usually took it in the mouth, I did like it in the vagina.

I told him I had a week before I had to be back at work in Charlottsville. We met, had dinner and sex three more times before he took me home with him. Good sex too, I really came, and he ejaculated into my vagina again. We both liked that.

His apartment was modest and needed decorating. We had more sex, I came and he came, I got seed in my vagina and my mouth, he was a good provider that way. His stuff worked; later, I found that some semen didn’t. Around 10% of men didn’t seem to have the component.

To achieve my goal, I would need to work in the morgue. It could take months, even years. If I could keep Doug coming three times a week or more, it might all work out. If it didn’t, I’d just keep trying. It was all good; every day was a gift, every bird that sang, each meal I ate and cock I sucked was wonderful to me. I was living again, young and free.

I’m a criminal; I guess I always was. I lied, betrayed my country, I stole secrets, I stole husbands, I seduced virgins, I participated in the unethical malpractice of the institute, resulting in our volunteers’ early deaths. I never cheated at science though; the rules of man were flexible for me, the rules of science were sacrosanct.

So I took this extra time happily, more than willing to con Doug into loving me. What is love anyway? Who can say if an emotion is true? Love is a feeling, it’s neither true nor false.

He sure enjoyed fucking me, there was nothing fake about that, and I enjoyed it too.

I told him I could only stay if I had a job, and I wanted a job with the dead.

So that’s how I got into the Pittsburgh morgue. After a few months I had keys, codes, and knew the procedures. All I had to do was wait for the right cadaver. There was just one problem; I had a young body, with powerful sex drive, hormones, and emotions.

After living together for 6 months, I was in love with Doug. He had sweet soft eyes and a sweet hard cock, we had fun together and he was crazy about me. We talked, laughed, ate together. I’d got him to lose weight, exercise, and get surgery so he didn’t need glasses anymore. The pudgy old coroner was now a hot daddy.

He was able to make enough come to keep me at 80 or 90% if I worked him a little; dressed up in slutty outfits, teased him, made out with him for a long time each day. Kissed him while tickling his testicles and penis, and gave him plenty of head.

All that sex, regardless of the underlying motive, led to emotional attachment. Maybe the emotion referred to as “Love”, depending on your definition.

That was the price I had to pay. The agony I would feel when I walked away.

My mind was the same ruthless calculator that had seduced my enemies as often as my friends, that knew how to survive, and I had to get out of there before my half baked identity got blown. Every day, I was looking for those guys looking for me to turn up.

1941;

I was the general’s secretary as well as his lover; a fairly normal arrangement at the time. It was taken for granted that powerful men did as they liked, and girls like me were expected to keep the office tidy, the paperwork in order, answer the phone, look sharp, to accept male hands slipping up our skirts, and to open our thighs whenever our boss wanted a fuck. Some parties were for wives, other times functions were for the top men to show off their lovers.

I liked those, I put on really sexy great clothes; low cut blouses and push-up bras were the fashion, and my big breasts really worked in them. I found the other girls and made connections. Some were secretaries like me, and I soon had a network of gossiping girls I could phone up for information. Which I could pass on to the resistance of course.