Chapter 2: Hiding Out and New Pastimes With New People

I regained consciousness without opening my eyes. I knew it was daytime, and I also knew that someone was watching me intently from very close.

I cranked one eye open.

Carrie broke into a huge smile. She was next to me and nude. "Can you make love to me again, please?" Her voice was eager and intense, showing her need for our act of passion.

"I can, and I will after I go to the bathroom."

"I already went. You didn't wake up. I've been watching you. You are so handsome. I love you."

I waved and trod across the room to take care of a few things. I hoped this wasn't a dream that I'd wake up from.

When I came back, Carrie took me back into her mouth again and sucked. She stimulated me, but it was the kind of blowjob one might expect from a sixteen-year old. I thought of my first few sexual encounters at that age. I hardened right up, but then I turned the tables on her.

I toyed with Carrie's clit, and then I went down on her.

Carrie moaned, "Oh, dear, God. You ... you're licking my vagina ... my juices. No one has ever done that to me. Oooooh." It didn't take long after I focused and sucked on her clit; she had a lovely climax.

I changed position again, and sank my long shaft into her slippery tunnel of love. Carrie experimented with different thrusts she could make to intensify the experience for her, and then kept at it until she had another orgasm. I went a little longer, and realized I wasn't going to cum, so I just slowed and stopped, leaving my cock deep inside her.

We kissed a few times.

I cautiously asked, "Carrie, how many men have you made love with?" I had decided to broach the issue that had niggled at me the night before.

She studied me carefully and said in a quiet and shy voice, "One."

"One?"

"Yes. You."

"You were a virgin until last night?" I said in surprise. I delivered the question in staccato fashion, surprised that she'd elected me to be the one to take her most precious gift. I sat up in disbelief after uncoupling from her. I also felt a little miffed that she didn't tell me ahead of time that I was her 'first.'

She nodded her head. "I hope that's all right. I tried to pretend I was experienced."

I hugged her to me and kissed her, "Oh, honey, darling. You don't need to pretend with me. I love you just the way you are. You can be sweet and innocent with me, and I won't care. I care for you just as much. You don't need to be someone you're not."

"But you've had all those other girlfriends, and you've had sex with them. I read about some of what you did and how you felt in your journal. I know, I'm sorry. It was sweet and tender, what you wrote. I just wanted to ... be in there too. I hope you write about me, and how much I love you and what you did to me ... for me." Her yearning was palpable and I could see her eyes get glassy with tears. She wanted to please me so.

I hugged Carrie to me and stroked her bare back.

She said, "And I know I probably gave a lousy blowjob too. I never touched a man's penis until last night. I'd only read about what to do in some old sex book I found on a bookshelf in the palace; it had been written in 1936."

"You did great. Sometime we'll watch some porn and learn about how to bring each other more pleasure."

She pepped up, "Oh, that'd be cool. I know it's available on the Internet, but I never dared look. Now, I want to – with you."

"Hang around me, and I'll corrupt you."

We didn't get too far from the apartment that day. We did take a walk because the weather was so pleasant and I needed to recover a bit from spending an inordinate amount of time in bed playing and doing sexual things with each other. Carrie was insatiable.

That night she insisted that I bring my laptop computer to bed so we could watch some porn. We did about two hours worth, starting with blowjobs. Carrie would watch something with great intent, and then have to practice on me. I kept having to stop her, lest I blow my load.

At first, I was a little embarrassed to show her how I cruised the porn sites for my personal entertainment, but Carrie took it all in as though it was normal behavior, and for me, it was. More than that, she was like a sponge, absorbing everything that went by on the screen. She was more into the whole porn scene than I was by the end of the evening.

She perfected a custom blowjob for me, having two hands counter-rotating around my shaft that she lubricated, and as she licked and sucked on the head. She tried to deep throat my entire shaft a couple of dozen times, but had difficulty overcoming her gag reflex, until I stopped her and told her to move on to some other endeavor. I didn't want to asphyxiate my princess on her first full night of sexual pleasure.

After a moment or two playing with my equipment, Carrie asked, "What's it taste like?"

"What?" I thought I knew the answer to the question, but I wanted her to vocalize it so I was sure.

"Well, one of the girls giving a blowjob in the movie jerked the guy off into her mouth ... he came in her mouth and she made a big deal of swallowing it. She called it 'jerking off' and 'cum.' She seemed to like it a lot because she kept smiling."

"Oh, Jeeze. I don't know. Porn is not necessarily like real life; I hope you realize that."

"So, will you ejaculate into my mouth sometime soon so I can try it?"

I sighed. I was creating a sexual monster, and not even a full day had passed since she'd lost her virginity to me. I noncommittally said, "Sure, you pick the time and place." I worried that she was going overboard with all the sex stuff, but then I recalled my first girlfriend; we'd taken each other's virginity and then were fuck machines for many months, unable to get the 'sex stuff' out of our systems.

I moved Carrie along in the porn websites to some cunnilingus, even involving two lesbians. I enjoy giving head, love the taste, and feel that I'm good at it. We'd skipped over that element of foreplay the night before in our rush to couple. Carrie made me laugh because as the second short video ended with an overacted climax by one girl, Carrie flipped over on her back next to me and spread her legs. "Eat me, Lover." She was even picking up the vocabulary from the men and women in the porn films.

I quickly descended onto her snatch, my tongue extended, and my fingers at the ready to show her what a G-spot orgasm was. I latched on with my mouth, my tongue going wild, and my fingers quickly finding just the right spot inside her sweet tasting hole. We'd done some of this earlier in the day; however, this was the whole treatment.

In the span of two minutes, Carrie had about five orgasms that slammed from one part of her body to another again and again, like seismic shockwaves. Her screams got louder, and finally I stopped, worried that one of my neighbors might get worried and call the police.

Just for variety, I lightly fingered her ass, teasing the opening up to a knuckle and adding some spit, only making her think I might do something more serious there.

Carrie was again panting and gasping for air from the whole situation. She said, "I didn't think that women were supposed to have that many orgasms, and certainly not from intercourse ... and ... you played with my rump. I didn't know that was part of sex, but you made it so sexy and alluring."

"Mostly I paid attention to your little clit, and that's your orgasm center," I said in a patronizing tone. "We haven't even begun to have intercourse tonight – yet, but I intend to show you that that statement about only one orgasm is a myth with the right man."

"No, I know that, but you did something inside me too; something special – in my vagina."

"I stroked your G-spot. It's named after some old German doctor. It has lots of sexually sensitive nerve endings in a small area, just like the opening of you butt." As I talked I thrust two fingers into her cunt and lightly stroked her G-spot again.

Carrie gasped, "Well, he knew what he was talking about! I've never had such pleasure in my whole life all added together compared to what you did to me while you ate and fingered me ... my G-spot."

I smiled. "Good. I'll see whether I can do that again real soon."

"Do people have intercourse in their rectum?" Where were these questions coming from?

I ran a quick search on the website and opened one of the first anal sex videos that resulted. Part way into the film, the lead male actor stopped regular fucking, and sank his cock into the pretty actress's asshole. She carried on like it was the greatest thing to ever happen to her. He pumped away, and she seemed to have orgasm after orgasm.

Carrie watched with abject fascination, "Really?"

"Some people get off on it," I explained in a neutral tone. "I've never done it. I think it's more than just a small step for the woman, since it's her ass that's getting violated."

"Would you do that with me?" Carrie even sounded hopeful.

"If we use a lot of lube and you're hotter than the surface of the sun, maybe."

"Oh, goodie. We have a growing list of new things to try." She paused and asked, "Go back to that movie with two women having sex each other."

I went to my browser's history and backed up to the film entitled 'Lesbian Love.'

After watching for a couple of minutes, Carrie asked, "Do women really do those things together? I mean in school we kidded and teased each other about being lesbians, but none of us had any idea what that really meant."

I nodded, "They certainly do that stuff. One of my friends who is now in California is a lesbian, and she was very open with me about what she did on a 'date.' I think it made some of what we saw a little tame. They can get as wild and have as much fun as a man and woman can."

"Oh, wow. Maybe I could try that with some woman someday ... that is, if you wouldn't mind sharing me a little." Carrie turned and studied my reaction to her statement. She still had her hand around my cock, so when I hardened further and surged in her hand she broke into a smile. She said, "Oh, you like that idea don't you."

I thought, 'In for a penny, in for a pound.' I made a quick search on 'MMF' and clicked on a video from a site I knew had hot films aimed at women as well as men. A young girl walked onto the set pulling two men with her. Near the bed, they slowly undressed each other, she gave each man a blowjob, even taking both cocks into her mouth simultaneously, and then they took turns making love to her. Near the end of the short film she experienced a double penetration – one lover in her ass, and the other in her cunt. She also seemed to have endless orgasms, and obviously displayed her love for both men. The film ended with double cream pie – cum dripping from her cunt and her ass, and a shower of kisses between the girl and the men.

Carrie whispered as the film ended, "Wow. Would you do that with me too? I mean I'll still be devoted to you, but I ... well, just wow!"

I leaned over and kissed Carrie, and we got really carried away and soon forgot about the computer and the porn. We were making our own.

In that short time period, I realized that I would willingly share Carrie – or someone I loved – in open sexual situations: with another man, or with another woman. The erotic nature of the situation seemed to override any compunction I had about monogamy or exclusivity. I'd never known that about myself.

A few more orgasms, and we lay together panting and pretty well spent. Carrie's head was on my chest, and occasionally she'd kiss my pecs or even use her tongue to lick one of my nipples. Her hand continued to lightly fondle my flaccid and well used cock.

After a while, Carrie said, "Is it time for the late news? I want to see what they're saying about me."

I reached over to the bedside table and captured the remote for my bedroom TV. I flicked it on, and we waited for the news with the sound off. When the news started, I turned up the volume.

The top news story started and still was about Princess Caroline. 'Police report receiving several phone calls today regarding the whereabouts of Princess Caroline. Apparently, one of those calls from Fairfax proved credible, police even retrieving a cell phone to augment their investigation. Based on that call, the frantic nature of the search has been reduced. Police have reason to believe that the Princess is reasonably safe and acting on her own, although they would like to find her and will continue their search. Police plan to revisit many of the initial leads they had in the investigation, also believing that one of them may be the key to her mysterious disappearance.' The story continued with erroneous and some idle speculation about her whereabouts and motivation in disappearing.

As the news story ended, Carrie speculated, "That sounds like the police will come back here soon."

"You're probably right. We need to do something about that. You're stamp of femininity is all over the apartment now."

"I could try to make it disappear – return it to what it was when I first arrived."

"No, I have a better idea, I think."

At eight o'clock on Sunday morning, I called my friend Paul. His neighborhood roots had always made me suspect he had some loose ties to the underworld, and I wanted to tap into that dark place. Paul answered, and a few minutes later had agreed that I could come over to his place.

Carrie and I drove the ten miles to Paul's apartment, but she stayed in the car enthusiastically playing a game on my iPad.

I went up and talked to Paul. "I need some fake ID. I'll pay, but I'm very naïve about this kind of thing. I need a credit card we won't use, but one that should have a picture on it, and a driver's license."

Paul laughed, "That's easy and not too expensive – about $500 cash. How soon?"

"Immediately, if you can."

Paul nodded and slipped to the side of the room and made a phone call, talking in inaudible tones into his phone. A minute or two later, he returned and passed me a slip of paper with an address on it. "This is Micky-J's address. He's waiting for you. You owe me a beer real soon." He put out his hand to bump knuckles with me.

I promised the beer, and soon we were on the road again, this time heading towards College Park.

Micky-J stood about as tall as a door and about as wide. He must have played football, no doubt as a defensive back. He looked nimble ... and dangerous. Nonetheless, he was cordial, especially after I paid him the $500 in cash in response to his request for up-front payment.

He had Carrie sit in front of two different drapes, and he took her picture a couple of times. A few minutes in front of a computer, the whirrs of a special printer and laminator, and the new credit card and license were done. Carrie had become Karyn Bishop.

As Micky-J finished and we made to leave, he said to her, "I've never met a real princess before, and may never again. It has been a pleasure helping you, and helping my friends. I wish you luck with whatever it is you're trying to do."

Carrie smiled at him, and then kissed his cheek after pulling his head down to her level. Micky-J blushed.

We stopped at a couple of garage sales on the way home looking for an old purse and wallet. At our third sale, we found what we were looking for: a battered purse that had seen better days, and a wallet on the verge of falling to pieces. After paying a dollar for the lot, Carrie and I drove home.

I gave Carrie some cash to put in the wallet, and showed her how to display the license and credit card. I spent an hour on the Internet, and printed up some other cards on stiff paper that were typically found in a wallet. I also had an eclectic collection of small photos that helped fill out the wallet's bulk so it looked normal for someone her age. We made everything look as though it had been in that wallet for years. She filled the purse with some tissues, cosmetics, and several feminine products, and that passed muster too.

Carrie stood in front of a mirror for a couple of minutes with the purse over her shoulder, the Redskins' t-shirt, baseball cap, sunglasses, and her new tight jean shorts. She had great looking legs. She pronounced in a thoughtful voice, "I look so much like a normal person. This is so right. This is the person I want to be ... providing you're there with me." She turned and looked adoringly at me.

I came up next to her and looked over her shoulder; I put my arms around her and nuzzled into her neck. She turned in my arms, and we were kissing, and thirty seconds later we were stripping our clothes off so we could make love.

The sunlight was streaming in my large front window, painting a bright swath across my red-toned living room carpet. Carrie said, "I want to make love in the sunlight." She pointed at a spot on my carpeting lit by the sun, "Right there!"

We did. We coupled up and did the dirty right there on my rug. Neither of us wanted to prolong the experience. I was afraid in our rush to finish that she wouldn't have an orgasm, but that turned out to be far from what happened.

In our afterglow, we lay side-by-side, just touching and panting until our respiratory systems regained some semblance of routine breathing.

Carrie said, "Now we need to recover for a couple of hours; so can we go somewhere out in the nice weather for a late lunch? I'd love to eat outside."

I smiled and agreed. I figured I couldn't keep her cooped up and hidden for the rest of her life. We dressed, and drove to a nearby Panera's where they had outdoor tables. We went through the sandwich line, plus got our soft drinks, and sat just like 'normal' folk did. I felt myself laughing inside because for me this was anything but 'normal.' I was sitting with a princess and every cop within a thousand miles was looking for us.

Carrie did attract a couple of stares from people, mostly other guys. I worried that she was being recognized, but then detected just the roaming male eye that'd spotted a hottie. With her great legs and shapely body, plus the red hair and tattoos, she looked extra hot. She kept the large shades on, so I wasn't too worried about identification.

After lunch I drove us to Rock Creek Park, and we walked along with our arms around each other as we talked. There were a lot of joggers, but no one paid us any mind.

Carrie asked, "Do you suppose those two guys back at the restaurant recognized me?"

"No. They just thought you were hot – the same way I do."

"Hot?"

"A dish. Somebody desirable. Someone they'd like to ... make love with."

"You mean fuck?" Carrie giggled.

"That especially," I laughed.

Carrie opened up a new door suddenly, "When we were fucking earlier, you'd said something about dirty talk in response to some crude words I used. What did you mean?"

"Errr, this is going to corrupt you even more than I already have. Dirty talk is a kind of sexual foreplay, although it can carry on through the entire lovemaking act. It means using graphic words and painting pictures of lewd acts that turn you and your partner on. Often, what's said is more alluring than what we're seeing."

"What's an example?"

I nuzzled into Carrie's neck and said, "I would like to take you over on that grassy knoll, pull your clothes off, and lick your pussy until you started to scream in one orgasm after another. When you'd attracted a crowd of people, I'd invite some of the handsome men to come and join me. I'd let them show their prowess in bringing you to orgasm too. You could hold a cock in each hand, suck on another, and meanwhile I'd be pumping my cock into your sweet warm pussy. You'd have so many orgasms you'd be crying with joy."

"Oh, wow. You just made me all wet between my legs."

"That's the idea. I want you so worked up sexually that when we walk in the door of the apartment you'll jump my bones and not let me go until I've satisfied every sexual urge you have."

"Oh, you say the sweetest things. I like that idea too. Tell me more about foreplay too."

I laughed, "Babe, you have led a sheltered life."

"You don't know the half of it. The only reason I know how to cuss is that I listened to some of the construction men working on parts of the private school I attended. I compared notes with some of my classmates, and together we worked up a good vocabulary. My father told me I was never to use those words in public when I blurted out a few of them at some event and he heard me."

I said, "Foreplay is all the physical and emotional things we do to each other to get us ready to have sex. It's the teasing and arousing, the words – like talking dirty to each other, and anything else that signals I want to make love to you – to bury my cock in your pussy and fill you with cum." I cautiously added, "It's also just spending time with each other, being attentive and romantic, and using nice words about love and caring."

"Oh, yes, but what are the words I should be using for dirty talk and dirty foreplay?"

"Usually, words like penis, intercourse, vagina, labia, and such are too clinical. In dirty talk you'd use words like cock, schlong, prick, or dick; fucking, plowing, boning, or balling; pussy, fur pie, gash, twat, quim, or cunt, and lots of other terms. You can look them up on the Internet. There are hundreds of them."

"Oh, I will, ... and I do want you to stick you long schlong into my cunt, and fuck the daylights out of me until my fur hole is dripping in your man juice."

"Very good, and I promise I will. Let's head home. I want to be attentive to your tight little fur hole and fill it up with my cum."

The police came again on Monday evening.

There was a knock on the door, and Carrie raced into the bedroom stripping her clothes off as I went to open the door. We'd just finished take-out Chinese and had been sitting at the table talking. I glimpsed her purse sitting on the counter, and her girlish jacket on the end of the sofa. I took a deep breath.

Two detectives were there, one of who had been in the first group. I invited them in instead of putting up a stink or asking whether they had warrants and all. I didn't want to act suspiciously.

"Mr. Westerly, we're just revisiting all the leads in the Princess Caroline case again. I'd like to go over last Thursday night with you again."

"Sure."

"Could you recount what the night was like for you, and anything you might remember about the people around you? Please don't worry about telling us the same thing over again, just be as complete as you can."

I stated, "Well, I met my friends Paulie, Bart, Billy, and Dave as agreed in the Washingtonian bar at eight o'clock. Dave now lives in Kansas City, and had flown in for a meeting on Friday before he went back home that night; he was staying at the hotel. We were all college buddies at the U. of M. I think it was more like eight-thirty before we were all there. We got our first round of beers, ordered dinner in no rush, and started to talk about guy things: our jobs, cars, girlfriends, and almost everything under the sun, even some politics. We stretched out the drinks, ogled a few pretty women – four cougars – who came in as a group, but they had only one drink and then they all left. I wasn't facing the door, so I didn't see too many of the people passing by the bar area; Paul or Bart might have. I got tired as the time neared midnight and I had to work on Friday morning. We were pretty well talked out by then anyway. I said goodbye to everyone, and headed off to my car. Let's see, I crossed the lobby to the garage elevator. No one was around. I left the hotel without seeing anybody other than the desk clerk, I took the elevator up to level three where I'd parked, got in my car and drove home. I didn't see anybody in the garage. It took me about a half hour to get home."