TIFFANY
                              



                            *** PART 1. ***

The first time I met Tiffany I wasn't particularly impressed by her.  
I met her at a beach party in the beginning of the summer and I was 
there with a couple of friends.  This beach was more of a sand-covered 
clearing in the forest at the shore of a smaller lake, and not what 
you may expect from a "real" beach.  It was a perfect place for 
parties though; there were no houses for several kilometers.

	Tiffany was an ex girlfriend of Ron, one of my friends, and she 
came over to say hello.  Or actually, she staggered halfway over and 
screamed hello.  She was a dead drunk and a blonde and she had no 
problems at all to exceed any prejudices I ever had about blondes; 
within the hour she was making out heavily with someone in her gang, 
in the middle of the beach, no less.

	To be honest to Tiffany, she was mostly lying on her back 
giggling as the guy did most of the making out.  However, the lying-
on-the-back-and-giggle part did nothing to increase my valuation of 
her.  After a while the guy on top of Tiffany wanted to drag her along 
into the nearby forest -- no one had to guess what he wanted to do 
there.  Neither did Ron, and he necessarily had to check out what was 
going on, and that Tiffany was okay.

	It started all too well when the other guy asked Ron to go fuck 
himself, or, as he put it, "even better, fuck that sucker", and "that 
sucker" was me.  I had followed Ron to pose as some kind of backup.  
Knowing Ron and knowing the amount of beer he had already gotten down 
his throat I moaned to myself, sure a fight was coming up.  Tiffany 
cooled the situation, however, even if I am sure Ron would have wished 
for anything else than the kind of cooling she provided.

	Tiffany stepped in between Ron and the other guy, loudly and 
clearly -- at least clearly considering the state she was in -- 
declaring that what she did or didn't do was none of her ex looser 
boyfriend's goddamn business.  Her escort grunted, grabbed her and 
dragged her into the bushes.  I held Ron back until he calmed enough 
to get back to our party instead of following Tiffany and her guy for 
retribution.

	Both before and after the incident on the beach I had heard 
about Tiffany from Ron and his friends.  After the first time I saw 
her we met on a couple of parties, but it wasn't until several years 
later that we started spending time together.

	One day I bumped into her in the local grocery store.  She was 
basically the same as the first time I've seen her, but she'd grown 
more mature and she seemed less wild -- maybe that was because she was 
sober.

	I said I bumped into her, but actually it was she that bumped 
into me.

	"Hi there," she said cheerfully.

	I didn't even recognize her at first.  But then I did.  I 
noticed the shimmer in her eyes and started feeling a bit uneasy.

	"I just moved in a couple of houses away from you," she 
continued before I had a chance to greet her back.  "Why don't you 
come over for coffee some time?"

	"Uh, right." was all I managed.

	"Gimme your number," she continued as she grabbed her purse and 
pulled out a big address book.

	She managed to bring me out of balance in a peculiar way and 
before I had a chance to think she had made me give her my phone 
number and promise to come over for coffee.

	The first time I went over to her she answered the door dressed 
in only panties and a t-shirt.  At the time I strongly suspected that 
she did this to gain some kind of advantage over me, and boy did she!

	Tiffany was tall, almost as tall as me, and she had a slender, 
lithe build with long legs, round hips and large breasts.  It could 
have been that her slender frame made her breasts look larger and her 
butt rounder, but it was a sight for sore eyes anyway.

	The fact that her t-shirt did nothing to conceal the swaying of 
her breasts under it -- she wore no bra -- or the dark shape of her 
nipples made it necessary for me to keep my eyes under strict control 
the whole duration of my visit.

	After a while I realized the conversation was forced and instead 
of continuing to avoid staring at Tiffany I reached for my pack of 
cigarettes, probably the fourth or fifth time since I entered her 
apartment.  While gazing into the glass tabletop I lit my cigarette 
and took a deep breath on it.

	We kept talking.  She seemed to sense that I was discomforted by 
her appearance and she seemingly wanted to make me feel even more 
manipulated.  At least that was the effect when she pushed her chair 
back, placed one of her feet at the table and started painting her 
toenails.  You may question the manipulative quality of this action.  
At first I would agree that it wasn't manipulative at all, but that 
was before my focus shifted from her toenails to her panty-clad crotch 
below and behind them.

	She had lace panties and they were semi-transparent.  I hadn't 
noticed this before since only the top part of them where lace and 
this part were covered behind her shirt when she was standing.  Now, 
however, I could see the lace part of her underwear and I could 
confirm that she was indeed a true blonde.  When she took a deep smoke 
on her cigarette, her blue eyes watched me.  I swallowed and had to 
direct my gaze at a tree outside her kitchen window.  The tabletop 
could no longer provide any shielding from what she had placed on 
display for me.

	"Elm," she chuckled as she too looked at the tree.  
"Interesting, huh?"

	"Yeah," I managed just giving her a quick glance before I 
continued staring at the tree.

	While she switched to painting the toenails on her other foot 
she started talking about elm trees.  Apparently she had read a lot 
about trees and she was more than willing to tell me.  This was one of 
the many paradoxes about Tiffany that I would successively discover 
during the following weeks.

	On the surface she was average: She worked as an assistant nurse 
at the city hospital.  Spent one or two Saturday's a month at the 
local nightclub, usually the Saturday after she got her wage.  She 
preferred drinks, especially gin-tonic's, to liquor or beer and she 
would usually tease but seldom bring anyone with her as she left for 
home.  When she didn't work she spent time with her friends, and she 
smoked about a pack of cigarettes per day.

	This was on the surface.  Under it, she liked to read, actually 
loved to read, anything she could get her hands on, the more strange 
the book, the more eager she would be.  She had bookshelves in her 
living room and her bedroom and they were all filled with books, most 
of which her mother had passed on from Tiffany's dead grandparents.

	She read Kafka, and she even tried to discuss the Process with 
me, but she lost me quickly.  She had read most books by Dostoevsky 
and she had read "The Satanic Verses" by Salman Rushdie.  That was the 
only one of the books she knew that I had read, or actually, I had 
tried to read it and given up somewhere on page ten.

	"Have you read all these?" I had gaped at her bookshelves once I 
realized what kind of attitude she had toward books.

	"Not even half of it," she had laughed.

	Back in her kitchen I realized she had gone silent.  She was 
concentrating on painting her nails.  Now and then she raised her eyes 
and looked at me, occasionally taking a smoke on her cigarette.  
Instead of meeting her gaze my eyes jumped back to the tree, then back 
to her and when she was not looking my gazes slid down her shapely 
thighs and fell on the round shape of her crotch.

	I immediately noticed two things:  somehow the slit in the 
middle of her panties seemed more marked.  I realized this was because 
her pussy was puffier.  Either she was squeezing her thighs together, 
or... she had swelled.  I swallowed.  That was when I saw the spot; 
her panties were wet.  I looked up into her eyes and she was gazing at 
me under heavy eyelids.  Cigarette smoke was hanging between us.

	Right about then I made my first real mistake.  Instead of 
acting on impulse, grabbing her and kissing her, I got up, mumbled 
some excuse about needing to go to the toilet and headed for her 
bathroom.

	If I told you I was an expert on women I would be lying, as I 
would if I told you I had great courage, or even that I was convinced 
I was worth someone like Tiffany.  I didn't believe any of these 
things and of course it was no help to me, even when she practically 
offered herself on a platter.  I was attracted, how could I not be?  
Ever since I'd seen the wet spot on her panties I had been transformed 
from the casual untouched observer to the victim of her love spells.  
But I was able to logically explain each of the things she did, and 
none of my explanations was anywhere near the reasons my instincts 
kept telling me she had.

	The next time I went over to Tiffany for coffee, a couple of 
days later, she must have decided to play a game with me.  At least 
that was how I perceived what she did, which in retrospect probably 
was another great mistake.  This time, when I rang her doorbell she 
didn't answer at first, after a second ring and almost a minute of 
waiting, the door opened and there was Tiffany wrapped in two towels, 
one around her body and the other around her head in a turban.

	"I'm just out of the shower," she breathed.  "Sorry."

	I simply nodded.  She was totally naked under her towels and the 
one around her chest barely reached past her hips.  However, this was 
nothing compared to what was to come.

	"Why don't you make coffee while I get dressed?" Tiffany 
continued and went into her bedroom.

	Between Tiffany's kitchen and her bedroom was the hallway.  Two 
doors lead from each room to the hall, and when they were both open, 
like they were then, it was possible to see from the kitchen all the 
way into her room.

	If I had been forced to peek through a keyhole or glance into a 
mirror to get a glimpse of her as she put on her clothes I would have 
assumed I was the pervert and she the innocent victim.  When Tiffany 
turned her back at me she was standing in the middle of her room, 
clearly visible all the way from the kitchen.  

	She dropped her towels and put her whole naked, firm body on 
display.  I was pretty sure she was doing this on purpose.  When she 
bent down to put on her panties and her blonde, furry pussy came on 
display between her thighs, below her firm butt I knew she was playing 
me like an instrument.  My instincts told me to rush her, grab her ass 
and try to fuck her before she even had a chance to complain about it.  
And, well, the logical part of my brain kept screaming about how 
reasonably and surely innocently she was acting.  I didn't do 
anything.

	She saw me standing in the kitchen with a filter bag in my hand 
and after a quick smile she pulled on her panties, rose and half 
turned to me, giving me an eyeful of her firm breasts and proud 
nipples as well.

	"You put the coffee in the filter bag and the filter bag in the 
coffee machine," she grinned and her blue eyes shimmered.

	"How many cups?" I mumbled and lowered my gaze.

	"Sixty-nine?" she replied and her eyes shimmered, blue like a 
lagoon, as she kept gazing at me.

	"Sixty?" I started before I realized what she was saying.

	I am sure my eyes grew wider and my mouth was trembling.  I was 
probably a really pathetic sight.

	"Make it eight cups," she laughed and quickly got dressed.

	I stared at her for another couple of seconds before I decided 
to get going with the coffee instead of trying to figure out what was 
going on.  While we drank the coffee and smoked, we made small talk, 
but she seemed like she wanted to say something.  She didn't, however.  
I knew I wanted to say something, or do something.

	An opportunity had just come and passed.  I was sure of it.  I 
had seen a woman naked and it was deliberate on her part.  Surely that 
must count as an opportunity?  But she was so cool about it, a voice 
in my head kept telling me she was just being natural; maybe she 
didn't think nudity was such a big deal?  There are nudists and they 
don't seem to think nudity is sexually charged at all.  I was at a 
loss and when it was time for me to head back home I was sure she was 
nothing more than innocently natural.



                            *** PART 2. ***

I kept visiting Tiffany for another two weeks but none of my visits 
contained anything as striking as the first two.  Sure, she usually 
walked around in her apartment dressed in nothing more than panties 
and a t-shirt, usually without a bra, but she never put herself on 
display as much as she did the first two times.

	I didn't reflect on this much until the day I came over to her 
and a guy was sitting by her kitchen table.  Tiffany and I had nothing 
tangible going on between us, at least not sexually tangible, so I 
shouldn't feel anything, but of course I did and I had a hard time 
hiding it.  Who was he? a new boyfriend? a friend? who?

	"This is Dave," Tiffany answered my questions.  "He's renting a 
room..."

	"Okay," I replied without really knowing what else to say.

	"I had to get the costs down."

	"I see."

	"I sleep on the sofa most of the time anyway," she continued.

	I nodded, took Dave's hand and shook it.  He had a firm, a 
little too hard, handshake.  He didn't look into my eyes when we said 
hi.  I tried really hard not to dislike him, but the more I heard 
about him the more I started to suspect that he was into more than 
just renting a room from Tiffany.

	"So," Dave said to me.  "What do you do?"

	"What do I do?" I asked not really sure what he meant.

	"For a living?"

	"He's in computers," Tiffany filled in before I had a chance to 
answer.

	"Ah," Dave nodded.  "A computer wiz."

	In the two minutes I had known the man, he had managed to annoy 
me already.  At least he didn't call me a "kid".  Always something, I 
told myself and sunk down by the table as Tiffany poured me coffee 
with milk.

	"I hear he's pretty good too," Tiffany added.

	I glanced at her.  She was now dressed in shirt and jeans.  I 
thought for probably the millionth time, I should have done something 
when I had the chance.

	"You don't say," Dave chuckled and grabbed his coffee cup.

	I opened my mouth, about to say something rude, then I looked 
over at Tiffany and realized she probably needed this asshole to help 
her out with her rent or she would have to leave the apartment.  I 
kept my mouth shut.

	From now on, whenever I was having coffee with Tiffany, Dave 
would be there too.  As a construction supervisor, Dave was quite well 
built, no hunk but larger than me, even if I wasn't neither tall nor 
particularly well built.  I was in computers; most of the physical 
exercise I got was from typing.

	I wasn't sure what taste Tiffany had in men, but she didn't seem 
to be interested in Dave.  It was logical that she wouldn't end up in 
bed with him, since doing that would introduce the risk of them 
breaking up and that would mean she would have to pay her rent alone 
again, something she apparently was unable to do.

	I would have been calm about the fact that Dave was sleeping in 
her apartment if it wasn't for two things.  She was sleeping on the 
sofa, to me that seemed like a temporary arrangement if any.  Part 
from that, whenever Dave and me was around she would talk and act in a 
way that made us both stare at her with bulging eyes.

	She didn't really say anything alluring, nor did she act 
promiscuous in any way, it was just the topics she brought up, and the 
way she did it, that made me think on lines I would prefer not to 
thread, at least unless I could realize them.  I am sure Dave was 
having the same problem.

	"I have a secret weapon," she said one time and with a contented 
smile she leaned back in the corner of the sofa, between Dave and me.  
She sipped her coffee as we stared at her.

	"And?" I asked.

	"Tell us what it is?" Dave broke in.

	"It drives guys wild," Tiffany grinned.

	"So what is it?" Dave insisted.

	"I'm tight," she said softly.

	I don't know Dave's reaction to this, I can only guess from my 
own.  I would have choked on my coffee or spitted it all over the 
table, but fortunately I wasn't drinking any coffee right then.  I 
guess knowing Tiffany some and having instincts, I waited for her 
reply before I did.  However, I did choke and I wasn't sure where to 
look.

	From that point on the sex talk became less innocent and less 
polite.  When Dave started describing how he had been doing anal with 
some girl, I felt I had to get some kind of break.  I rose and grabbed 
my pack of cigarettes.

	"I'm going to smoke," I said and went out on the balcony without 
waiting for Tiffany.  

	Dave didn't smoke.  Tiffany stayed in the living room devouring 
each of his words.  I didn't have much to say since I had been 
involved in pretty basic things, nothing like Dave's anal sex or 
Tiffany's threesome -- she told me once she and another girl had 
picked up a guy, but that's a totally different story.  I felt pretty 
left out on the sex talk, not that I wasn't an eager listener, I just 
wished I had been able to make Tiffany give me the same attention she 
was now giving Dave.

	About a quarter of an hour later the discussion was turned to 
the art of chaining people to beds and Dave once more came up with not 
only good advice but a bunch of anecdotes as well.

	"So," Tiffany asked curiously.  "How do you do it?  Rope or...?"

	"No, no." Dave laughed.  "Hand cuffs are the best.  Ropes burn 
you or hurt you.  Chains too..."

	"Only if you pull," Tiffany added.

	"You always pull unless the other is failing miserably," Dave 
grinned.

	I decided I had heard enough, that the hour was late and it was 
time to leave for home.

	"I'm leaving," I mumbled, my words filling the quietness after 
Dave's comment.

	"Okay," Tiffany smiled, not even getting up from the sofa to see 
me off.

	I left, my goodbye echoing hollowly in her hallway.  I didn't 
even stay long enough to see if she would answer it.  I didn't want to 
know.

	The following days I was assuming crash position.  Even if I 
didn't see Dave on any of my visits, I was sure something was going on 
and I was just waiting for Tiffany to say something.  Still, logic 
kept telling me she wouldn't; she needed the money more than the sex, 
didn't she?  She said nothing the first couple of visits, and just as 
I had started to calm down, a pile of her underwear on Dave's bed 
informed me of the status of things quite frankly.  She saw my gaze.

	"Let's have a smoke," she offered and led me to the balcony.

	I had underestimated the kind of feelings I had for her.  I was 
filled with a hollow, black emptiness, and I had no clue what to say 
or do.  I was surprised my hands didn't shake when I lit my cigarette.

	"We went out for a beer a couple of nights ago," Tiffany begun.  
"I got pretty drunk and he more or less had to carry me home."

	"Okay," I replied still no emotions.  As she kept speaking I 
finished my cigarette, and immediately lit another.

	"I woke up in the middle of the night, in the bed..."

	I swallowed.  Finally I felt something.  Pain.  I cursed my eyes 
for filling with tears and I clenched my teeth to keep them from 
overflowing.

	"I was still drunk," she continued.

	I looked at her.  She was looking down at her hands.  She raised 
her eyes as she took another smoke.  "He was there too...  But he 
didn't use me..." she added.

	"Okay," I replied.

	"I..." she hesitated then lowered her eyes again.  "I just 
needed something and he was there, you know..."

	I wanted to scream to her to stop.  "You know", her words echoed 
in my head.  I know?  Do I?  I decided I knew nothing.  Tiffany kept 
talking and I had to shut her voice out of my mind.  When I listened 
again she was talking about something else.  The subject of her and 
Dave was finished as far as she was concerned; I had one more thing I 
needed to know.

	"So," I asked.  "He's your boyfriend now?"

	She shook her shoulders.  "I don't...  No."  After a couple of 
seconds she continued:  "It's not so smart, you know?"

	"What?" I asked, a little scared that maybe she knew something 
about what was going on inside me.

	"This."

	I swallowed.  "This?" I managed after several seconds.

	"Yeah, I really need help with the rent otherwise I'm fucked..."

	They say black humor helps you see the light in the darkness.  
Right then I thought to myself she was fucked all right.  I almost 
laughed about what might have happened if I had told her when she was 
so concerned about her economy.  I guess she brought out the mean 
streak in me.	



                            *** PART 3. ***

The next few weeks I was busy feeling sorry for myself.  I avoided 
Tiffany, and I ignored her phone calls.  I wanted to avoid meeting her 
face to face again until I had managed to get my feelings in order.  I 
definitely wanted to stay away from Dave until I had regained my self-
control.  I was trying not to be judgmental about what Tiffany had 
done, but in my eyes, Dave was a moron and far below her.

	My opinion was biased of course, but still there was some part 
of me that kept telling me something was seriously wrong about the 
situation.  I blamed my self-pity, and maybe I was right.  Being in 
the middle of a typhoon of feelings, like I was, and at the same time 
seeing straight is almost impossible.

	Since Tiffany was the kind of person she was, stubborn beyond 
belief, she wouldn't let me alone for long and after one particularly 
sweet and pleading voice message I decided to get back in the loop and 
to hell with any remaining pain.

	I went over to have coffee with her that same night and things 
started to go bad from the beginning.  Tiffany opened the door in her 
panties and a t-shirt, like so many times before.  However, this time 
was different.  My mind was not full of plans on how to interpret or 
use the situation; my mind was full of pain and regret that the 
sweetness that was Tiffany would never be mine.  I was in much worse 
shape than I thought, even if Dave was not there to remind me about my 
defeat.

	We sat on the sofa drinking coffee and smoking.  She said 
nothing about me not answering her phone calls, and I didn't offer any 
explanation.  After a while our discussion drifted on to Tiffany's 
work.  She was upset people were so ignorant.  After some coaxing she 
told me someone had died that day because his relatives didn't know 
how to perform CPR.

	"Everybody should know how to do CPR," she stated.

	"Hey," I shook my shoulders.  "I don't."

	She frowned at me.  "Sure?"

	"I mean I know the theory, but if someone asked me to do it.  
Jeez."

	Tiffany suddenly put down her coffee mug and I could see in her 
eyes she was up to something.

	"I'm going to teach you," she simply stated.

	"What?"

	"Get down on the floor...  On your back!"

	"Well," I tried to protest but she was determined.

	"Lie down!"

	I did as she asked.  Lying on the floor I couldn't help peeking 
between her thighs.  I was able to get a really good glimpse before 
she kneeled beside me.  I once more felt the pain of regret and I had 
to blink several times or the pain might just have appeared as tears 
in my eyes.  She didn't seem to notice.

	"First you have to take care of the breathing, okay?"

	"Okay."

	She placed the tip of her fingers under my chin and gently 
lifted my head up while placing her palm on my forehead.

	"You lift like this, then you pull down," she took my chin 
between her thumb and index finger and opened my mouth.  "And you 
blow."

	She didn't blow, even though I wouldn't have minded.  She did 
however bend forward and she did hesitate.  Was she planning on giving 
me mouth-to-mouth and backed out the last second?  How about Dave?  I 
realized something was going on, in the room or in my head.  I would 
have given my right arm to find out which.

	"Then you pump..."

	"...The sternum," she added when she saw my expression.

	"Right," I nodded.

	"Take three fingers," she held up three fingers.  "...from the 
bottom edge of the sternum, the hole here," she placed her fingers on 
my chest and I couldn't help myself.  Being ticklish I started 
laughing.

	"I am trying to save lives here," she commented wryly trying 
hard to keep from laughing as well.

	"Yeah," I gasped.  "Sure, I think I get it now."

	I started to get on my feet.

	"Oh, no," she commented.  "You're not getting off that easy.  
Now do it on me."

	She got on her back and smiled up at me.  I stood there, staring 
down at her.  She wanted me to do what?  mouth-to-mouth?  for real?  I 
decided definitely not.  Tiffany, however, got impatient with me and 
reached up, grabbed my hand and pulled me down on my knees.

	"Now, please!  I am dying for a smoke."

	"Okay," I mumbled, not at all sure what to do, especially not 
with someone as gorgeous as this woman.

	"First?" Tiffany asked.

	"Breathing," I managed and placed my fingertips under her chin 
just like she showed me.  This was crazy.  I opened her mouth and I 
bent forward, then I hesitated and finally stopped.  If Tiffany had 
any reaction to this, I didn't see one.

	"Then?" she simply asked.

	"Eh... Pump... Pumping," I was stuttering.  I was making a total 
fool out of myself and she was just lying there, looking up at me, not 
smiling, but neither frowning.

	"So?" she prompted.

	"How do I do it?" I asked.

	"Three fingers," she replied.

	"Yeah, I know, but the ... pumping."

	"It's called massaging," she smiled.  "Heart massaging, if you 
prefer that to pumping."  She paused, just a second before continuing.  
"You place the heel of your hand three fingers above the lower edge of 
the sternum and then," she grabbed my hands and placed one between her 
breasts, the other on top of it.

	My hands were between her breasts; I just had to move my fingers 
and I would be touching them, and I just had to move my palms and I 
would be cupping them.  Tiffany picked up on my thought immediately, I 
could see it in her eyes, but she didn't move, not at first.  We were 
simply looking at each other's.  Her eyes where shimmering like 
sapphires, and I felt an almost painful want growing and growing until 
I felt as if I was about to choke.

	"Do it," she mumbled.

	"Pump?" I asked.

	"No, silly," she breathed.

	My hands where shaking.  She scared me, or to he honest, the 
worst-case scenario that I painted in my mind scared me.  What if 
I...?  What if she...?  My hands slid apart and cupped a breast each, 
gently, only touching, as I was afraid to do it too hard.  I could 
feel her stiff nipples through the thin fabric of her t-shirt and 
things where immediately starting to grow in my trousers.

	She suddenly sat and I pulled my hands away from her, sure I had 
done something wrong and offended her.  Before I had a chance to say 
anything more stupid she grabbed my head and pulled me into a deep 
kiss.  While our tongues and lips where caressing one another I 
wrapped my arms around her and pulled her as close as I could without 
hurting her.  She moaned into our kiss and as we broke it she gazed 
into my eyes, her blue eyes jumping between mine.  She stroked my hair 
gently.

	"We're totally forgetting about the pumping," she giggled 
softly.

	I couldn't answer; my mouth was too dry.

	"Why don't you lay me down on my back and pump me," she 
continued while brushing her lips against mine again.

	I didn't need more persuasion than that, and while we kissed 
again, hungrily and passionately this time, our combined efforts 
quickly ridded both of us of all clothes.  She smiled at me and 
gracefully leaned back until she was lying on her back.  I followed 
her and ended up on my side beside her.  We were lying on the living 
room floor, actually half on the floor, half on the mat.  I kissed her 
while gently -- as gently as I could manage in my overheated condition 
-- stroking her breasts, first one, and then the other.  Tiffany 
didn't bother much about foreplay though; she grabbed my cock 
immediately, and stroked it firmly.

	"Come on," she mumbled.  "Fuck me."

	She parted her legs and tried to make me lay on top of her but I 
held back.  I wanted to excite her more before I would get on top of 
her and come before she did, making a fool out of myself.  I kissed 
her again and slid my hand between her legs, through her incredibly 
soft pussy hairs and to her equally incredibly wet and hot slit.

	"Do it," she mumbled and ground her crotch against my hand.

	I explored her slippery folds, relishing in the soft wet sound 
her pussy made, and I could see and hear Tiffany's reaction to my 
caresses.  I kept stroking her for several minutes, determined to make 
her come before I would do any "pumping".  However, this proved harder 
than I expected.

	Every time Tiffany's breathing increased and she arced her back 
I was sure this time I would bring her off.  She seemed to be stuck 
just outside the reach of her orgasm and soon she fell back on the 
floor with a frustrated sigh.

	Finally she was whining and trashing her head from side to side 
and I was sure she was coming.  However, when she opened her eyes, 
grabbed me and forcefully pulled me on top of her it wasn't to calm 
down after an orgasm.

	"Fuck me Goddamnit!" she hissed between clenched teeth and 
before I could protest she had grabbed my cock and guided it to her 
opening.

	Tiffany hadn't been lying about being tight.  When I pushed into 
her, my cock was welcomed by the tightest grip I had ever experienced.  
If it hadn't been for her being sopping wet, I am sure it would not 
have been so easy to slide into her.  Tiffany groaned as I worked my 
way into her until our pubic bones meshed into each other.

	"Oh God," she whimpered, her hands holding my arms hard.  "Oh 
God!"

	"Are you okay?" I asked, worried that I may be hurting her.

	"Oh God!  Just fuck me," she hissed in reply.

	I started moving and I immediately felt pleasure rushing to my 
groin, threatening to make me explode right there and then.  A deep 
breath later, the crisis was over.  Somehow I'd managed to detain 
myself, and not even gorgeous Tiffany with her tight pussy could make 
me come, not right away at least.

	Tiffany however, was a completely different story; as soon as I 
started moving in her she gasped and her thighs started shaking 
uncontrollable.  Her fingernails made marks in my arms -- maybe that 
was what made it possible for me to keep my orgasm back.  She was 
arcing her back and within a dozen strokes she was screaming out what 
couldn't have been anything other than an orgasm.

	I, on the other hand, had ways to go still.  She soon proved 
that so did she.  Shortly after she had calmed down she rolled on top 
of me and while passionately kissing me, her hips rolled into mine 
making my cock moving in her delicious grasp.  She struggled into 
squatting over me and suddenly I was treated to an even deeper 
penetration.  I moaned and she chuckled.

	"You like that?" she whispered and took me deep again.

	I could only moan in reply.  Suddenly her grasp became even 
tighter and I felt how my control was starting to give away.  I 
grabbed her by the knees and started pounding up at her.

	Making love on a floor is something completely different from 
making love in a bed.  Even the hardest bed is soft and yielding 
compared to a floor.  On a floor you can do things that isn't as easy 
to do in a bed; like grabbing a girl squatting over you and pound her 
pussy full of cock, just as I did then.

	"You want to make me come again?" Tiffany whined and wrapped her 
hands around the back of my neck.

	I didn't reply, unless keeping up what I was doing was an 
answer.  She hissed and gasped for air and suddenly I could feel how 
her pussy got considerably wetter, and as I kept fucking her, I could 
hear it as well.  I looked up at her face, framed by her blonde hair 
falling like a curtain around both our faces.  Her mouth was half-open 
and her eyes closed, she almost looked peaceful, but just for a 
second, then she clenched her teeth, closed her eyes even harder and a 
high pitched, whine escaped her.  She pushed my hips down on the mat 
as she forcefully ground into me.

	Her thighs were shaking and her fingernails were digging into my 
neck, and even if I couldn't feel her coming, I could see and hear how 
powerful her orgasm was.  As her wet heat caressed my whole length she 
finally pushed me over the edge and into my own climax.  I arced my 
back and pushed back up at her, our bodies grinding into one another.

	"Oh!  Yess!  Yess!" she whined.  "Fill me!"

	Within moments I did exactly what she wanted and in spurt after 
delicious spurt I emptied myself totally in her hot depths.  Our 
bodies where tensed, shivering, as the moment was stretched into an 
eternity.  I was straining to reach her, fill her, raising my butt, 
and pushing up at her.  She was squatting above me, holding me in her.  
We were both straining to keep the contact, keep the moment, but 
finally she exhaled with a prolonged groan and collapsed on top of me.



                            *** PART 4. ***

I was lying on my back and savoring the delight of my diminishing 
orgasm.  Tiffany soft, but firm was resting against my chest.  She 
finally moved and planted a soft kiss on my neck.  Her light blue eyes 
stared into mine and just as she was about to say something we both 
heard a gasp from behind us.

	"What the fucking hell?" a voice whispered.

	Tiffany instantly turned around and got on her feet.  As she 
moved out of my line of sight I could see Dave standing in the 
doorframe, his eyes wide open, and filled with an insane light.  He 
was pissed all right, and the sanest thing for me to do would be to 
grab my clothes and run for my life.  I simply couldn't do that.  I 
couldn't just leave Tiffany in his hands, not when he looked like he 
did.  I got on my feet as well, grabbed my clothes and hid behind them 
as well as I could.  Dave's jaw was chewing in anger as he was 
searching for something to say.

	"Dave," Tiffany started.

	"What the hell is that cocksucker doing?" Dave roared as he 
pointed his shaking finger at me.

	He took a step towards me and I backed off.  Our gazes where 
locked and I could read my instant death in his eyes.  I remember 
asking myself, was it worth this?  They say there is only one drive 
stronger than the sexual drive.  Tiffany suddenly appeared between us 
and I knew in my case this wasn't so.  I would willingly die for this 
woman, even if sex would be all she would ever give me.

	"Stop this!" she commanded facing Dave.  "What the hell is your 
problem?"

	"Him." Dave snorted and pointed at me.

	His face was slowly turning red, and I remember thinking that 
maybe Dave getting a heart attack would save my life.

	"And?" Tiffany asked, her eyes shimmering with rage.  "What 
makes you think it is any of your business?  You're not my boyfriend!"

	"And neither will he be." Dave hissed as he tried to move past 
Tiffany.

	I am not sure Dave could hear or even see Tiffany; his eyes 
never left me while she talked to him.  She placed her palms firmly on 
his shoulders and after several attempts she managed to get him to sit 
in the sofa.  She then turned to me.

	"Leave now!" she mumbled.

	I wanted to protest; I didn't want to leave her when Dave so 
obviously was enraged out of control, but one stern gaze from Tiffany 
made me change my mind.  I silently left the living room and got 
dressed enough to be decent.  Tiffany joined me in the hallway and 
before I left I made her promise me to call within two hours.

	"If I see you two together again," Dave hissed from the doorway 
to the living room.  "I swear to God..."

	"Leave," Tiffany mumbled to me and opened the door.

	I walked back home while my mind played worst-case scenarios on 
repeat and my heart pounded like crazy.  I regretted leaving Dave 
alone with Tiffany, but still I understood that they would never be 
able to talk about what had happened, and sort it out, unless I was 
gone.  Tiffany didn't seemed to be scared of him, and she knew him 
since long before I did.  I could only hope she knew what she was 
doing.

	The hours waiting for her call were some of the longest of my 
life.  I was sitting with the phone in my lap, staring into the 
opposite wall, several times a minute checking the clock.  It seemed 
like the minutes took forever and after one hour of waiting I had to 
get up and do something.  I made sandwiches.  It took seven minutes to 
make them and eat them.  Then I was back.  Sitting on my bed, 
clutching the phone, again counting the minutes.

	One and a half hours passed and she still hadn't called.  I was 
sure Dave had beaten her up, or done worse, and the big knot of 
anxiety grew even larger in my belly.  I had to do something.

	Suddenly I realized two hours had passed.  I stared at the clock 
in terror.  Two hours had passed and she still hadn't called!  The 
next fifteen minutes was hell.  I was about to call her, call the 
police, or run over there.  I was sure she was hurt, or in desperate 
need for my help, or even worse, unthinkable, things.  And just as I 
was about to call her, the phone finally rang.  I almost had a heart 
attack and I managed to drop it before I could get the handset off the 
hook and answer.

	"Hello?" Tiffany's wonderful voice came from the other side.

	"Tiffany," I sighed in relief.  "Are you okay?"

	"Yes," she replied.  "I'm okay."

	There was a long moment of silence.  The outcome of this 
situation had never crossed my mind.  What was she going to tell me 
now?  My heart stopped again.  It was over, she was going to tell me 
goodbye.

	"Come over?" Tiffany mumbled.

	"Dave?" I asked unsure what her invitation meant.

	"He left... just... come over."

	Two minutes later I was standing outside Tiffany's door.  It 
usually took four to five.  I tried to catch my breath before I rang 
the doorbell.  Like so many times before Tiffany opened the door in 
her panties and t-shirt.  Somehow this was comforting.  She seemed 
informal, like old times.

	I closed the door behind me but she didn't back away to give me 
room.  Our faces were close and I only had to reach a little bit to 
brush my lips against hers.  She beat me to it though, wrapped her 
arms around my neck and pressed her lips against mine.  Her slender, 
thighs pressed against my legs and soon her crotch was grinding into 
mine.

	"Welcome back," she breathed when we broke the kiss.

	She locked the door.

	"Get out of you your clothes and follow me," she smiled and 
disappeared around the doorframe into her bedroom.

	I spent a second wondering how to exactly interpret "get out of 
your clothes", before I decided to get rid of my shoes and jacket and 
nothing else.  As I peeked into her bedroom I immediately realized I 
had made the wrong assumptions about the meaning of getting out of my 
clothes.  Tiffany was naked, resting on her side in her bed, a big 
grin on her face.

	"Like what you see?" she asked me and when I nodded, unable to 
make a sound, her grin became even wider.  "Then you'll love this."

	She rolled over on her belly and with a lustful gaze over her 
shoulder she parted her legs and revealed her pink folds.  She pushed 
her ass upwards; showing even more of her pussy and every thought I 
had about being chivalrous disappeared in an instant.

	Within fifteen seconds I was naked and in bed with her.  My 
intension was to start slow, kiss her and tease her even taste her, 
but when I lay on top of her she moaned and started grinding her ass 
up at me.  My cock was pressed into the crack between her buttocks and 
she moved her hips until I felt how my organ sprung free and pressed 
against her hot wetness instead.  She reached between her legs, 
grabbed me, and before I could say or do anything, she pushed me 
halfway into her.  I had little, if any, choice than to finish the 
work by pushing all the way.  The second time in my life I managed to 
hold back the instant wave of pleasure threatening to drown me and 
soon it felt like I could fuck her forever, if need be.

	"Bite my neck," she moaned and I brushed her hair aside and 
scratched my teeth against the skin on the back of her neck.

	"Bite me harder, let me feel your teeth."

	I bit her even harder and she started whimpering and whining.  
When I bit harder still she started to squirm.  I was unable to hold 
back anymore and I started to fuck her with abandon.  Soon she begun 
to shake and she became, if possible, even louder.  Her tight embrace 
became even wetter and I was suddenly close to coming; she was closer 
though.

	Within a dozen strokes she threw her head back -- I had 
forgotten about biting her neck a long time ago -- and with a 
wordless, feral scream she announced the arrival of her climax.  I 
kept pumping and when she twisted her neck as far to the side as she 
could I bent down and kissed her passionately.

	"Come in me," she whispered.  "I want to feel it!"

	I hugged her close, held her hard, pumping into her forcefully 
but slowly, grinding deep, and pulling back far.  Each time I buried 
in her as deep as I could she whimpered and soon she was squirming in 
my grasp once more.

	"You're gonna make me come, again!" she whined.  "I'm gonna 
come!"

	I felt my own climax gathering into a hot, tight knot.  After a 
couple of seconds and a few strokes, the knot was transformed into a, 
seemingly, never-ending flow of pleasure and semen.  Tiffany was true 
to her word and while our juices mixed so did our screams of ecstasy.

	I buried my face in the pillow beside her head, resting on my 
elbows, knees and forehead while still comfortably buried in her hot 
depths.  She sighed and started softly kissing my cheek.

	"You made me come," she breathed.  "Twice."

	I turned my head facing her a proud grin playing on my lips.

	"I wanted to tell you that," Tiffany added.  "Before...  how... 
wonderful it was..."

	She kissed me, and then she pulled back a bit, looking at me.

	"I'm not that special," I mumbled.

	"But you are," she said seriously.

	I stayed on top of her as long as I could, but finally I was 
unable to support my own weight any longer.  I pulled out of her and 
lay beside her on the bed.  Tiffany made a disappointed face when my 
cock slid out of her.

	"Keep up the good work," I whispered.  "And I'll be back in no 
time."

	"You want to do it again?" she purred.

	She draped her legs over mine.  I placed my arm under her head 
and pulled her closer until I was lying on my side and she on her 
back.

	"Soon," I smiled.

	She looked at me for a long time, as if pondering something.  
Then she bit her lower lip.  "That was the first time, you know..."

	"What?" I burst out.  "First time?  But I thought you and 
Dave..."

	"Not the first time I had sex, silly!" she laughed then she 
became serious again.  "The first time I came..."

	"Really?" I asked.

	She nodded.

	"You are a little special after all," she mumbled.  Then she 
laughed.  "Wanna show me how special?"

	"Sure, how?"

	"You can try and make me come three times," she whispered with a 
wanton shimmer in her eyes.

	"I can try and make you come all night long," I added and kissed 
her.

	"All night?" she asked.

	"All night," I confirmed while continuing to kiss down the side 
of her neck.

	That was the first of many nights I spent with Tiffany.

                              ~ The End ~