Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 A Fine Lad - Part One - By Mack the Knife

   Sarina sat quietly as her friend, Evia, cut her hair off.  Long, brown,
flowing locks fell to the floor of the barn.  "I don't understand why
you're doing this, Sari," said the younger girl.

   "I can't tell you, because if you knew you'd have to tell others," said
Sarina DelVago.  She looked at the hand mirror.  "A bit more over the ears,
I think."

   Evia giggled at her as she performed the requested change.  "You're
going to look like a boy if you keep me cutting."

   Sarina's eyes narrowed, but she kept her silence.  It was her hope to
look like a boy when she was done.  Long minutes passed as she directed her
friend's hands and her hair continued to fall onto the barn floor.  She was
finally satisfied; it looked uneven and blocky.  It didn't look girlish.

   Evia bid her friend good night, somehow knowing that it was most
important to do so this night, and she hugged her older companion. 
"Whatever you're up to, be careful," she said.

   Sarina said nothing still, and quietly went toward the farmstead.  As
soon as Evia was out of sight, walking toward the neighboring farmstead,
Sarina turned about and reentered the barn.  She dug through a small
haystack, pulling forth a large burlap sack.

   A young man emerged from the barn twenty minutes later and skulked to
the fence by the road.  His furtive movements revealed a need for secrecy
that made it obvious he was up to no good.

   - - - - - - - - -

   Puerta Bonita was a largish town, larger than any Sarina had seen
before. Dozens of ships were moored in her bay, their colorful banners
flying proudly from their mainmasts, marking their origins and their
allegiances.  Their off-white sails were furled; else they hung limply
across wind, with sailors busily mending them of tears and holes.

   In the town, she was jostled and pressed, and she nervously scanned
about herself for the merchant that she had seen in her home village of
Provito.  She soon saw him, by dint of his massive banner over his tent. 
He seemed a kind man, and had asked her father if he had any boys seeking
to learn a trade.  Her father, sonless, had growled at the poor merchant,
and nearly chased him from the property.  Geraldo DelVago was a proud man,
who felt always shamed at having six children, all daughters.

   Of those six, Sarina was the youngest and only one still home, the
others having been married off.  She was supposed to be married off, as
well, in six months.  The young man they had promised her to was agreeable
enough, a good-looking youth named Marco.  He was nice to her when they
met, and polite.  He was even sweet, after a fashion.

   He was also typically male for the men of Costa Roja.  He had certain
expectations that he did not hesitate to let her know about.  It was crude,
she knew, for a betrothed to tell his prospective bride just how much he
was going to take his liberties of her once they were wed.  She had told
her father, and he had simply shrugged, saying that the lad was right, even
if a bit rude in saying so.

   "Hello young man," said the Merchant as Sarina stood near his stall,
peering at the mixed wares on his table.  "Have you an interest in my
goods?"

   Sarina shrugged, but shook her head.  "I heard from a friend you seek an
apprentice." She tried to deepen her voice a bit, giving it a rougher edge
than it normally had.

   The merchant nodded.  "Yes, I've not, like many men, been blessed with a
son, and the lads I've met in Vilders all seem to wish to learn my trade in
mere weeks.  Have you the patience to spend a few years being a fetcher and
runner in exchange for a future of some comfort?"

   Sarina nodded and said, "I do." Her mind flashed to her imagined wedding
with Marco, and the fact that she would never have to say those words to
him now.

   "What's your name then?" asked the Ghantian.

   "Sarino," she said.

   "Well, Sarino," said the merchant, "I'm Emilio Inremelli.  If you turn
out to be hard working and trustworthy, I'll keep you, if not, you'll be
dropped back here as soon as I can find a Rojando-bound ship to put you on,
deal?"

   "Deal," Sarina said.  The heavy-set merchant stuck out a meaty hand and
Sarina took it, squeezing it as hard as she could and smiling.  "You won't
be disappointed," she said, eagerly.

   "How old are you boy?" asked the merchant as he gestured for him to come
around the stall to the open area behind it.

   "I'm fourteen," said Sarina.

   The merchant considered this carefully.  "A bit of a runt for that," he
said.  "But, still, a merchant's skill isn't in his strong arm, is it?"

   She shook her head, though her expression was questioning.

   "You've got an honest face, lad," said the merchant, holding out two
silver coins.  "Go buy yourself something to eat and get me a bite or two,
as well.  I have to work to keep my trim figure, and you need meat on those
bones of yours."

   She gingerly took the two coins and slipped them into her belt pouch,
which also held a handful of copper coins already.

   "And as a bit of practice at merchanting, what you don't spend of that,
you can keep," said the merchant, magnanimously.

   She grinned and ran off into the crowd.  The merchant was half convinced
when an hour later, his new hire had not returned.  However, he saw Sarino
moving toward him a few minutes after he had sighed and written off his two
marks.  Sarino held up a small wicker basket toward him.

   "What's this, fancy eating?" he asked, opening it and seeing half a
dozen burritos within, stuffed with peppers, meat, beans, and cheese.  "Not
too good at saving the silver are you?" he asked, taking a bite of one and
mmm'ing at the flavor.  "These must have cost most all of it."

   "No, sir," said Sarina, smiling brightly.  He held up the two silver
coins in a proud hand.  "I had a few coins of my own, bought the
ingredients with them, and made those."

   "A lad who can cook, eh?" asked the Merchant.  "A enviable skill,
indeed. And a money saver, as well, good thinking." He patted Sarina on the
head.  "You may have the makings of a fine merchant."

   She beamed under the praise, wincing at the heavy hand on her head, but
happy nonetheless.  A few hours later, she helped the merchant pack his
wares onto a handcart and moved toward the docks.

   "I've no ship of my own, lad, not yet," explained Emilio.  "But I travel
with several other merchants on the Transit Queen.  We share the boat under
one captain and go from port to port, spending a week or so at each."

   Sarina nodded, listening closely to his accented Rojando.  "You're
lucky," he said, "I've two rooms and no other apprentices for you to share
a cabin with."

   She blinked at those words, not having thought about such matters
before. She was instantly relieved that she would not have to try to hide
herself in intimate confines with someone else.

   They arrived at the Transit Queen.  She was rather unimpressed, it was a
small ship, only about forty feet long, with only an aft castle.  There
were a half dozen men working in the rigging as they dragged the handcart
up the ramp and lashed it to the deck after covering it with an oilcloth.
"Come, my boy, we'll look at your room."

   She followed him belowdeck into the narrow passage.  He opened a door
halfway down into a large closet.  Then she realized this was her cabin. 
"Not too bad, eh?" he asked.

   Sarina forced a smile onto her lips.  "Not at all, sir," she said,
stepping into it and looking at the hammock folded against one wall and the
small chest on the floor.  These two things comprised its entire
furnishing. She added her burlap sack, with two changes of clothes and a
few other possessions to the decor.

   A young man peered around Emilio's shoulder.  "Who's that?" the lad
asked, trying to get a good look at Sarina.

   "That, Guisippe, is Sarino, my new apprentice," said Emilio, proudly.

   "Really?" he asked, slipping under the fat man's arm and into the room.
Guisippe was tall and slim with startling blue eyes.  Sarina smiled timidly
at him.  "Hello, then, and well met."

   She took his proffered hand and shook it as heartily as she could
muster. The lad was good-looking and she found herself unable to speak.

   "I've got to speak with the other merchants," said Emilio.  "Guisippe,
would you show Sarino around the ship?"

   "I'd be happy to," said Guisippe, "not like there's a lot to show."

   Emilio patted the boy's shoulder.  "There's a good lad," he said, "and
be damned if that isn't the truth."

   Emilio then turned and disappeared into the passage.  Sarina's eyes grew
a bit larger as she turned to face the young man, a bit of fear creeping
into her expression.

   "Well, lets show you about, then," said Guisippe, walking out into the
passage.  "There's really not much to show."

   She followed him down the narrow passage to a door near the aft end.  He
opened the door and pointed inside.  "Very important, this is, the head,"
said the young man.  He pointed to two holes that seemed to open down
toward the water.  "Ware high waves, they'll wet your willie if you're not
careful." He chuckled at his wit and Sarina blinked for a moment as she
tried to divine what he was talking about.  When it came to her, she
giggled helplessly, which caused Guisippe to look a bit oddly at her, but
he shrugged and moved to another door.

   He opened it.  "This here's my room," he said.  She peered inside. 
There were two hammocks slung from wall to wall, and one had a young man in
it.  He was lying there, seemingly asleep.  Then she noted a movement over
his middle under the blanket.  "One's pride, Ruglio, you could at least
stop while people are in the doorway!" said Guisippe, laughing.

   The boy's eyes opened and he looked at the taller, older lad.  "I was
just getting to the good bit," he said.  "Now go away so I can finish
seducing this elven maiden."

   Sarina blushed deeply at what she had just seen, but, luckily, closing
the door also cut off most of the light that would have shown up her red
cheeks.  She still feared he would feel the heat of them in the tight
passage.  "Ruglio plays with his rod every chance he gets, Sarino," he
said. "Just ignore him."

   "At least he covered it up," she said.

   A sardonic look came to Guisippe's face.  "You'd think so, eh?" he said,
then opened the door again.  This time the lad had the covers off and was
stroking his cock furiously.  Sarina's eyes grew very wide indeed.  It was
the first man's rod she'd seen erect and among the first handful she'd seen
period.

   "Unless you're gonna come in here and whisper into my ear in elven,"
said Ruglio, hurling a pillow at the door, "get the hell out!"

   Guisippe yanked the door shut as the pillow landed against it.  He
looked at Sarino and noted the embarrassment on the young man's face.  "Oh,
damn, sorry, mate," he said.  "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

   "No, it's okay, just surprising was all," she said.  "I've never seen
others do it before."

   The older boy's face lit up with a broad smile.  "Aye, but you've done
it, I'll wager."

   Sarina swallowed.  "Yeah, of course," she said, trying to put some
bravado into her rather squeaky voice.  "But I do it differently," she
added and immediately regretted it.

   "Well, I suppose each has their own technique, no?" said Guisippe.  He
shrugged at the rather stunned look on the younger man's face and led him
down the passage again, to yet, another door.  "This is the bathing room,"
he said.  He opened the door, and mercifully, there was no one in it.  The
room contained only a few buckets and several stiff bristled scrubbing
brushes.  On a long shelf seemed to be buckets of lardy soap.  "Count your
blessings when you want to bathe and you get this room to yourself," said
the boy.

   She nodded at that and then thought about the eventuality of her own
need to bathe.  She would deal with that when it came up, she was sure.

   They spent a while longer below decks, with Guisippe showing her the
bilge and the food locker.  Then they went topside, where she had not noted
the stifling air of below deck until she breathed fresh outside air again.
There were six handcarts on the deck now, all lashed down and covered with
oiled sailcloth.  "This is good, we're setting sail now," said the young
Ghantian.  "You should enjoy seeing this."

   The walked up atop the aft castle and stood near the helm.  She watched
the sailor steering the rudder back and forth, ensuring it moved freely. 
Poles were used to push the ship clear of the dock and breezes from ashore
pushed the ship back and away from the shore.  Soon, they had room enough
to let out some sail and turn about.

   Then the men in the rigging started dropping sail and it caught the
wind, bellying the sails outward and the ship picked up speed.  She felt a
small wave of nausea pass through her, but not too badly and she managed to
keep down her own lunch.  One of the sailors caught her eye in the rigging,
a woman.  She moved among the ropes and pullies like a spider, dancing in
the network of complex systems that made the sailing ship work.

   "That's a woman," she said, pointing toward the female sailor.

   "Yeah," agreed Guisippe, "that's Crazy Alicia," he said.  "She's more a
man than most men, if you get my meaning."

   She blinked at him.  "No, sorry, I don't."

   The young man coughed.  "Well, she likes girls," he said.  Still her
face showed confusion.  "She likes girls in her bed."

   Her eyes widened now and her mouth formed a small `o'.  "One's truth?"
she asked.

   "Aye," he said.  "I've seen her kiss another girl, right on the mouth,
with tongue."

   "Wow," she said, turning to regard the lithe form in the rigging. 
"Pity, huh?" she asked.

   He nodded.  "Aye, she's not a bad looker, is she?" he replied.

   Like most sailors, Alicia was dressed brightly in striped red and blue
pants and a loud yellow shirt.  She had bare feet, as did all the sailors.
And they seemed to use their feet almost like hands, gripping ropes with
their agile toes and lifting them to their hands.  She even watched the
woman tie a knot with her feet, dangling from another rope as she did so.

   "No, she's not," said Sarina.  "She's quite pretty."

   The young man laughed.  "Watch yourself, laddie," he said, "Alicia likes
men, too, and you're pretty enough a boy what she might take a liking to
you."

   Again, the sense of artificial bravado rose up and she said, "And that
would be bad, how?"

   Guisippe blinked at that one.  "I suppose it wouldn't," he said finally,
then broke into a florid smile.  "Let me know if it happens, I'll want all
the details."

   She tried to laugh like a boy should, which brought an even odder look
from the older boy than did her giggle.  Guisippe soon forgot it, though,
as the ship settled onto a course and the riggers came down to deck.

   Alicia was first to approach them, moving with an easy grace that Sarina
immediately envied.  "Who's this handsome lad, then?" she asked, looking at
him with large hazel eyes.  Sarina could not help but feel she was being
appraised for auction.

   "This, Lady Alicia, is Sarino.  He's Emilio's apprentice," said
Guisippe.

   Alicia looked down at Sarina, though she was, in truth, only a few
inches taller than the younger woman.  She leaned close to Sarina's ear. 
"You know why Guisippe has no sons, don't you?" she asked in a whisper.

   Sarina shook her head.

   Her voice lowering a bit more still.  "He's a fancy man," she said.  "He
doesn't much like women folk, you hear?"

   Sarina immediately wondered if all Ghantians were perverts, or if it
were only merchants, or the just the ones on this ship.  "Tell the lad I
invited you to my cabin tonight," whispered Alicia.

   She leaned back, patted Sarino on the head, and walked off, her rump
swaying far more than necessary for locomotion.

   "What'd she say to you?" asked Guisippe, immediately.

   Sarina smiled.  "She invited me to her cabin tonight," she said.

   "One protect you," said the older boy, then his face shifted to mock
jealousy.  "You lucky bastard, I've served aboard for three years, and
she's not invited me."

   The afternoon passed slowly, and she found she had many chores aboard
the little ship.  Word of her cooking skill was passed about and she was
soon put to work in the galley, assisting the ship's cook, an
emaciated-looking man who had eyes so large they seemed ready to pop from
their sockets.  He went by the name Grinder.

   They were preparing supper when she asked him, "Why grinder?"

   He grinned at her with what remained of his teeth.  "Because I likes to
grind things," he said, pointing to the meat grinder bolted to the edge of
the preparation counter.  "Pretty much everything, really."

   Ruglio, who was on potato-peeling duty in the corner, chuckled.  "Tell
him about Willie," he said.

   Grinder winced and looked at the boy.  "Now, we'll not speak of that
cretin.  He insulted my cooking one time too many and was put off ship,
everyone knows that."

   "So says you, Grinder," said the young man, "but we had good meat for
weeks after you and he had words."

   Grinder shrugged.  "He inspired me to cook more better," he said.  "What
can a soul do if the muse is upon him?  Now you, get back to peeling spuds
or pulling your pud.  Leave the cooking to me."

   Ruglio seemed to take no offense to the reference to his mastubatory
habits, and smiled, in fact.

   "You're a quiet one, what?" asked Grinder, eyeing her.

   She looked up from her chore of chopping vegetables for the stew. 
"Sorry, I'm just concentrating, don't want to cut anything off, do I?" she
said.

   "Hell, no, lest we need something ground up for the stew, eh?" asked
Ruglio from the corner, earning him another glare from the cook.

   Sarina giggled at that and earned her own glare from Grinder.  "You
watch yourself, bucko, don't go copy-catting `Forty Strokes', there."

   She blushed slightly at the reference to Ruglio's masturbation.  "I'll
try not to," she said.

   Ruglio harumphed from the corner.  "And I was going to invite you to the
roundabout tonight," he said.

   She giggled again.  "I fear to ask, but what's that?"

   "All us lads stand in a circle and tug our poles," he said.  "First to
go off wins."

   Sarina's face turned deep purple.  An image of a dozen young men,
pulling on their collective penises rather appealed to a portion of
herself. She swallowed hard and said; "I think I'll keep that to myself,
then."

   - - - - - - - - -

   She lay in her hammock after doping out how to climb into it without
falling out the other side.  It was reasonably comfortable and she soon was
nearly asleep.

   Her door opened a little and she saw a shape move through it in the
darkened cabin and passage beyond.  "Who's that?" she asked, reaching for a
small knife on her hip.

   "It's me," said a feminine voice.  "Alicia."

   She blinked as the door shut and a covered candle was unmasked, lighting
the little cabin.

   "I thought you were joking," said Sarina in a quiet voice.

   Alicia smiled.  "I was, but I wanted to talk to you anyways," she said.

   Sarina slipped out of her hammock, barely maintaining her grace in doing
so.  "What is it?"

   "You best watch yourself, young woman," said Alicia.  "If I can see
through you, then someone else is bound to, eventually."

   The younger girl blinked, then tears welled in her eyes.  "Please don't
tell anyone," she begged.

   "I won't lass," said Alicia.  "You've got a set bigger than most of
these lads just to try what you're about."

   There was a scraping sound in the hall, and something of muffled
conversation, followed by a slap of flesh on flesh.  "We've an audience,"
whispered Alicia.  Sarina looked toward the door with wide eyes, and fear
on her face.

   Alicia took a deep breath then let out a long, shuddering moan that
sounded very pleased.

   There was another muffled giggle outside and Alicia winked at Sarina. 
"One's praise, yes, give it to me harder, you fiend!" said Alicia, gently
slapping her thigh with one hand in a rhythmic pattern.

   It took Sarina a moment to figure out what Alicia was doing, and then
her face lit up with joy at the fun and usefulness of it.  Alicia rolled
her hand at the younger woman, encouraging her to join in the act.

   She looked confused for a moment, and then said, "Yeah, it feels so good
inside you."

   Alicia grinned at that.  "Harder, big boy, harder!" she exclaimed,
moaning between words.

   Sarina grunted like a rutting pig several times, and yanked on the chain
holding her hammock to the wall, causing it to jingle noisily.

   Almost laughing, Alicia said, "Yes, yes, I'm almost there, just a bit
more, my stallion!" Her voice rose in pitch as she wailed out a convincing
climax and kicked her heels on the floor.  "Oh, Serino.  Damn you, you've
hurt me down there," she finally said.  "Hurt me again, soon, my stud."

   "Whenever you want, woman," said Sarina, deepening her voice
theatrically.

   They sat silent a moment, and heard the scuff of feet moving off down
the hall, now that the show was over.  "That should hold them a few days,"
said Alicia.  "In the meantime, you'll bathe with me, as my lover, so that
they'll not bother you in there."

   "As your lover?" asked Serina.

   Alicia smiled at her gently.  "I don't expect anything of it, lass," she
said.  "Lest you truly seek to offer it?" Her eyebrow raised in curiosity.

   "I don't know that I like women," said Serina.

   The older woman nodded.  "Understandable, I'll not encourage you, then -
well, much anyway." She winked at Sarina.  "I'm not a saint, after all."

   They spoke a while longer, and Alicia gave her the idea of stuffing a
rolled sock down her pants to give her a certain lumpiness that boys had
down in their nethers.  She tried it out and Alicia whistled
appreciatively. "Might want to try a smaller sock, lest you start picking
up women in port," she said.

   Sarina tried a smaller sock, and Alicia pronounced it dandy, even giving
her bulge a grab, just to check for proper form.  "Yeah, that'll do for
it," she said.

   - - - - - - - - -

   "Gore, but you gave it to her good, did ya?" asked Guisippe over
breakfast.  "I heard her plum in my cabin."

   "Well," said Serina, "she said it had been a while."

   He nodded sagely but just chewed his bread and butter.  "Still.  I say
you're one lucky bastard, to have gotten to lie with her on your very first
night," he said.

   "Have any of the other boys?" she asked, stuffing a chunk of bread into
her own mouth with an attempt at equal gusto to the other boys about the
mess.

   "Not that I've heard," said Guisippe.  "Though, I've heard she
occasionally beds a sailor, to settle a bet or other times."

   There was a slight scent of perfume that washed over her just before she
heard the distinctly feminine voice of Alicia.  "How's my big man this
morning?" she asked.

   "I'm fine, and you, dear?" asked Sarina, blushing at the obvious awe on
Guisippe's face.

   She sat down with theatrical gentleness.  "A bit sore after what you put
to me last night," she said.  "You need to take care with that prong of
yours, else you'll leave women spoiled for other men."

   The look of respect and awe deepened on Guisippe's face to near worship.
Sarina was likely to be severely peppered with questions later.

   The three ate and chatted about ships business.  Mainly where they were
bound next, which was the Windy Isles, to Pigwillow.

   "What an odd name for a port," said Sarina as they spoke of it.

   Alicia nodded.  "They're an odd lot, those Islanders," she said. 
"They're great folk, but a bit off, I say."

   Guisippe murmured, "It's from hanging about with fey folk, I tell you,"
around a bite of bread.

   "Might well be," said Alicia, grinning, showing her sharp canines. 
"I've bedded an elven lad, and it left me a bit crazy."

   They finished their bread and butter, and washed it down with weak ale.
"Come, lover, time to bathe," said Alicia, stroking Sarina's back
suggestively.  "You still owe me for hurting my woman bits last night."

   "Of course," said Sarina, "I'll go gentler on you this time."

   "Don't you dare!" said the older woman.  "I want you to use that weapon
more firmly this go round."

   Once the bathing room door was shut, Alicia sat down and started to
disrobe.  "You better watch that one," she said, jerking her head toward
the mess.  "I saw those eyes you gave to that lad, if he sees it, you're
liable to get beaten half to death."

   Sarina began disrobing, as well, her self-consciousness at being nude
only resurfacing when she saw Alicia looking at her.  "Damns a pity that
you don't like girls," said Alicia, smiling.  "You're a lovely young
woman."

   The young woman smiled gently.  "I've been called all sorts of thing
since I donned pants," she said, "lovely isn't one of them.  Thank you for
the kind words, though."

   They scrubbed themselves as best they could with buckets of water and
then helped each other reach places less accessible, scrubbing with the
hard-bristled brushes and lye soap.  By the time they were done, they were
pink and raw, and a bit sore, but very clean.

   Surprisingly, at least to Sarina, the older woman never touched her
inappropriately, which she had rather expected.  Had she wished Alicia to
do so?  She rather feared that she had.

   Sarina watched the sensual form of Alicia dress, noting that she wore
clothes that rather did not flatter her form.  "You do know that those
stripes do not make your figure its best?" she asked.

   Alicia winked at her.  "I know it well, Sarino," she said.  "I'd rather
the lads on the ship think me just a little less than ideal, if you get my
meaning.  They press for my favors enough without knowing my true
appearance."

   As attractive as Alicia was in her sailor clothes, she was a beauty
without them, lean and slender with long limbs.  Sarina caught herself
staring at her several times, admiring her movements and form.

   The older woman pulled her tunic over herself and said, "If I didn't
know better, pretty gel, I would think you smitten with me."

   Sarina blushed to the color of an apple and looked away.  "Oh, dear,"
said Alicia.  "I didn't mean to embarrass you." One of her slender hands
came up and caressed the young girl's cheek.  "I was just joking, and see
I've struck a near blow, have I not?" she asked.

   A small nod from the younger girl answered her.

   "Well, give yourself time to think on it, and we can always explore your
thoughts later," said Alicia with a nod.  "Fear not me losing interest in
you."

   Alicia's hand slid down Sarina's still nude back and her fingertips
brushed over the younger girl's curving rump, then the touch was gone, as
gently removed as it had been laid down.

   For all its softness, the touch had an effect far out of proportion to
the cause, sending shivers up her spine and down her legs.  Her knees felt
weak and her heart was now racing, thudding so hard, she would have sworn
Alicia could hear it.

   She hastily dressed and followed the older woman from the bathing room
to many a stare from the lads of the ship, envious stares.

   A half hour later the ship was a flurry of activity as they neared a
port at the coming of sunset.  It was Pigwillow, on the Windy Isles.  A
small town chock full of people from the capital of the island nation
seeking wares to purchase.  Pigwillow acted as a sort of shopping vacation
spot to the city folk.  They would come to peruse the many merchants and to
frolic in the warm waters of the bay.

   The small ship pulled into the port and Sarina was fascinated by the
garish lights, hung in long strings of colorful lanterns.  People milled on
the docks and a furor arose from the throng, a background murmur louder
than anything she had heard before.  Music wafted across the water to the
ship, some of it very odd-sounding.  Very melodious and with unearthly
undertones that she could not imagine hailed from a human throat.

   Emilio put his meaty hand on her shoulder.  "That's elvensong you hear,"
he said, turning his head slightly to listen to the soprano sound.  "I can
tell you hear it, even now, from the tears near to falling in your eyes,
lad."

   She looked up at him.  "It's beautiful, sir," she said.

   "It is that," he agreed, nodding.  "The people are far more beautiful,
even, though." He smiled down at her.  "Watch yourself, elven lasses can
steal your heart without trying."

   An odd look from the young man made Emilio blink.  "I see Guisippe has
given you the full gossip of the ship, as well," he said.  "Despite popular
belief, I don't lie with men," said the old merchant.  "I just don't find
solace in the arms of women anymore.  If and when you meet and speak to an
elven girl, you will see why, I was betrothed to one, once."

   Sarina blinked.  "You were married to an elven maiden?" she asked.

   "Not married, no, and more's the pity for my weak heart," he said.  "For
a year and a day, we were bound, and then she moved on."

   "How cruel," she said, her heart weeping for him.

   His smile turned bittersweet.  "That's easy to say, but the truth of it
is far subtler," he countered.  "I still count myself blessed to have had
that year."

   The sailors were tying the ship to the warf and the gangplank was run
out.  "You should enjoy yourself here, lad, we'll start your real training
on the morrow." His very eloquent face turned into a broad smile as he held
out another two silver coins.  "With these, on top of the two you already
have, you should be able to enjoy quite a lot of the sights in this town
this night."

   She took them hesitantly.  Why was her mentor being so nice to her?  She
had, rather, expected somewhat harsher treatment from her new employer.

   "I understand the lass, Alicia has taking a warm liking to you," said
Emilio.  "Quite the coup, that is." He winked at the lad.

   Alicia had snuck up behind the fat merchant.  "Aye, I've taken a liking
to the lad, alright, he's twice the man half these others are at half their
age," she said, and slipped around him to take Sarino's arm.  "Hope you
don't mind my corrupting the boy."

   "Not at all, Alicia," said Emilio.  "He was old enough to apply for the
position alone, he can make his own decisions about whom to bed."

   She kissed Sarino's cheek.  "If only the hooligan would keep to the
bed," she said.  "We needed the whole of the floor last night."

   Emilio ruffled the boy's hair and headed toward the gangplank.

   "I've a bit of sordid business to attend, Sarino, do you mind if I catch
up to you later?" asked Alicia.  There was no one in hearing range, and
this was not done for show.

   She blinked at the older woman.  "You're asking as if you need my
permission," she said.

   "Don't I?" asked Alicia.  "Am I not your woman for now?"

   Sarina giggled.  "You're Sarino's woman, perhaps," she said.  "But if no
one can hear us, I'm Sarina."

   Alicia kissed her on the lips.  "Sarina or Sarino, I'm your woman until
else is spoken," she said, then slipped her arm free and bounded down the
gangplank to nearly tackle two other sailors as they trooped down the docks
toward the nearest taverns.

   Sarina blinked after her and smiled, then nearly leaped from her hide
when Guisippe put his hand on her shoulder.  "Going into the port this
night?" he asked.  "Or has that skinflint, Emilio left you penniless?"

   "I've some money," said Sarino, somewhat defensively.

   "Good.  You can buy me a beer," said the lad, grabbing his shoulder and
pulling the younger boy toward the gangplank.

   They wound up in a seedy bar with a lot of other Ghantians about, and no
few Rojandos.  The two languages were similar enough that one could
understand the other with patience.  So far the people who had spoken to
her on the ship had been being kind enough to use Rojando's dialect when
speaking to her, though they had made it clear she was expected to learn
Ghantian, and other languages, as well.

   Linguistics, she quickly learned, filled a major portion of a merchant's
skills.  People dealt more readily with folk who made the effort to speak
in their own tongue.  In the bar, people spoke the two openly back and
forth, each using their own tongue and understood well enough by others. 
There was also a rather stridently spoken tongue of a very different sound
being spoken by a few of the patrons.

   "That's Syrisian," said Guisippe.  "The Islanders and the Empire speak
it.  Everyone used to speak it, in the whole world.  At least, as a second
language."

   She thought about that for a long moment.  "Pity it isn't still so, for
it would serve as a language for all to use with each other, and people
would need learn but one in addition to their own."

   He nodded.  "It has been spoken of many times, but it seems that people
like their own tongues," he said.

   Suddenly, Guisippe's eyes turned waxy and they focused on a spot over
her shoulder.  He seemed to have simply frozen solid and she turned about
to see what this was about.  She, herself, froze as well.  In the doorway,
speaking to a merchant was an elven maiden.

   She was as lovely as Sarina had been told.  The elven girl had delicate
features, sharply angled, and long, pointed ears peeking from a thick mane
of wavy golden hair.  The most startling feature was her silver eyes.  They
flashed and glinted in the light of the tavern's lamps.  She was dressed
scantily as well, revealing a great deal of smooth, fair skin, quite a lot,
really.

   The elven maiden seemed to have finished her speaking.  She then spun
about and left.  Sarina had not noticed, but the bar was nearly silent
while the elven girl had stood in the doorway.  The ambient volume slowly
rose to its former level.

   "Wow, she was a pretty one, even for an elf," said Guisippe.  A twinge
of jealousy shot through Sarina's mind before she could stop it.  "I know
what I'll be thinking about in my hammock this night."

   She blushed at his bald-faced admission, and looked away.  "Not like you
have that problem," said Guisippe, "what with Alicia to tend to your
needs."

   Sarina smiled at him.  "Well, I'm just lucky, I guess," she said,
sipping her beer and watching the crowd recover from the elf sighting.

   They sat quietly for a long moment, drinking their beers.  Sarina
thought much of what was happening in her new life.  She had become a young
man in many people's eyes.  Interestingly, however, the one person who knew
her secret was a woman, and that woman still sought her company.  A small
grin bloomed on her face as she thought on the delicious irony of her
current circumstances.

   The smile was short-lived, however, as thoughts of home came to her. 
She was worrying her parents, surely to no end.  Her best friend, Evia,
would also be worried for her.  Evia had sworn to keep her haircut secret,
lest some folk of home divine her intentions.  Had she kept the secret? 
Sarina decided to get a letter to Evia, if she could, to comfort her
friend. Evia could relay a second letter to her family through other folk
and let them know she was well, too.

   "Penny for your thoughts," said Alicia, caressing her back and kissing
her neck.

   Sarina smiled at the pretty woman.  "Far more than their true worth,"
she said and caressed Alicia's cheek.  Alicia, for her part, nuzzled the
proffered hand.  The sight of the woman, seemingly enjoying her touch,
rather touched her and rather thrilled her.

   "Oy, you two get a room," said Guisippe, laughing.

   "Excellent idea, Guisippe," said Alicia.  "Let's get a room." She was
looking at Sarina with eager, somewhat drunken eyes.

   "Um.  Okay," said Sarina, scooting her chair back and taking Alicia's
offered hand.  They went to the innkeeper who readily took a half mark and
gave them a crude skeleton key.

   They entered the small inn room and Alicia sat down on the bed.  "Would
you like to be a girl for a while?" she asked, looking up at Sarina and
lifting a small burlap sack.

   "How?" asked Sarina, eyeing the bag.

   The older woman pulled a long blond wig from the bag, along with an
outfit similar to that which the elf girl had worn.  "I bought these for
you," said Alicia.  "I thought you might enjoy being yourself for a bit."

   "I was never blond," said Sarina, picking up the wig and looking at it.

   "The lads on the ship are less likely to recognize you as a blond, and
in this skimpy thing," said Alicia, holding up the revealing elven
garments.

   Sarina nodded slowly.  "I'm sure they won't," she said.  "Surely, only
elven girls can get away with wearing such clothing."

   "Not at all, many human women wear them, actually," said the older
woman. "Mind you, only the slim ones, though.  The form is NOT flattering
to women who are much, well, rounder."

   "And you think I can?" asked the younger of the two.

   "I know you can," said Alicia.

   Sarina flipped the wig over her head, binding her black tresses beneath
it.  Alicia fussed with it for a moment, getting it just right, and then
brushing it smooth with her fingers.  "There you are, a girl again."

   She looked in the mirror and regarded a tall, slender woman once again,
not the boy she had been seeing peering at her in mirrors and the water.

   Sarina then changed her clothes to the elven outfit, rather grumbling
over the places that it showed more of her than she initially desired to
show.  She pulled the loincloth into place and looked at Alicia for
approval.

   "Wow, elf girl," said Alicia and widened her eyes appreciatively.  "If
you had pointed ears, you'd be a spitting image.  Well, and silver eyes."

   The younger girl giggled at her.  "Flatterer," she said, then added,
before she could check herself, "you're just trying to get into my skirt."

   "Of course I am, you're sexy," said Alicia, unapologetically.

   This stopped Sarina in her tracks, and her face went rather blank.

   "Sorry if I offended you," said the older woman.

   "No," said Sarina, "it's not that at all, rather the reverse."

   Alicia stood up and pulled Sarina against her.  "I won't rush you, but
know this," she whispered into Sarina's ear, "I will take you if you let
me." The words were accompanied by little puffs of warm air that sent
shivers down her spine.  A slender, cool hand moved over her bare back,
where the halter-top did not cover and to the little crease atop her
backside, which showed above the belted top of her skirt.  Sarina let out a
tiny moan and leaned into the touch.

   "I wish I knew for sure," she sighed out, half turning toward Alicia. 
"For if I did, it would not be a hard choice."

   The older woman stepped back and smiled at her.  "Go, enjoy being a
young woman a while," she said.  "I will go enjoy some time among old
friends, and we will meet again as the night wanes."

   Nervously, Sarina stepped out of the room and walked down the stairs. 
She never before had shown so much of her flesh in public and was very
uncomfortable doing so.  Men turned to give her long looks as she descended
the narrow staircase.  She glanced over to see Guisippe openly staring as
well, and she briefly wondered if he recognized her.

   He did not, apparently, for he noted her return stare, blushed, and
turned away from her, unable to meet her gaze.  A certain incautious
boldness filled her and she walked toward him.  Alicia coughed from the
stairs and shook her head in negation.  Sarina blinked at her then walked
back to stand near enough to talk to her while looking another direction.

   "Don't approach any crewmen, dear, you still have the same shoes on and
the same eyes," said Alicia.  "They may not notice, but they may, as well.
You don't need one of them lads holding a deep secret like that, do you?"

   Sarina's eyes went to Guisippe again, he was looking upon her as well,
but only with casual interest, like he would show any attractive woman who
was near.  "I understand, thanks for reminding me," she whispered.

   Alicia walked past her, turning her head casually as if giving a passing
greeting.  "He is a comely lad, though, is he not?" she asked.

   Sarina smiled and nodded, then gave Alicia a little wave as she headed
out of the inn.

   The young woman had grown up on a farm, and had, on only a few
occasions, been into town for fairs.  They were nothing compared to the
heated and jubilant crowd gathered in the wharf quarter of Pigwillow.  She
tried to move through the crowd to leave the inn, and succeeded, but only
after being jostled several times, and just as often, touched rather
personally.

   She moved down the almost as crowded streets, weaving between knots of
chatting and laughing folks.  A bit of fear had set into her; the crowd
seemed oppressive and threatening.  She sought out the solitude of a small
field behind the row of taverns and inns.  Trees dappled the moonlight into
high contrast black and white and she sighed as she leaned against one,
hiding herself in the shadow of one large oak.

   "You're a hard one to follow," said Guisippe's voice from near the alley
she had taken to get to this secluded pasture.

   She intentionally raised her voice in pitch, "I was unaware that I
needed an escort," she said.

   He came forth from the shadows.  "It isn't needed, no," he said.  "But I
hoped your look earlier meant you would welcome sharing words with me."

   She smiled in the shadows.  "We can share words, yes," she said.  She
figured it was safe enough, in the shadows of the trees, where the lighting
only barely showed their outlines.

   Guisippe stood near to her.  "I was rather stunned inside the inn when I
saw you looking on me," he said.

   "You're a comely lad," replied Sarina, remembering what Alicia had
called him.

   He smiled.  "I think you're beautiful beyond words," he said.

   Sarina felt herself blush at his overgenerous compliment.  "Do you
always lathe so much butter on bread?" she asked.

   He hunkered down, sitting upon the grass beneath the tree.  "I hope you
don't think I compliment you idly," he said.

   "No," she replied, "I accept it, thank you."

   She heard a cork being pulled.  "I've brought wine, would you like a
drink?" he asked.

   Sarina sat down across from him, feeling the cool grass on the backs of
her thighs.  "Please," she said.

   A bottle was pressed to her hand and she drank.  It was a good, if not
expensive wine and she took a long swallow.  "My name is Guisippe," he
said, leaning back and watching her.

   She thought for a moment.  "Juanita," she said, giving her mother's
name.

   "Juanita?" he asked.  "That's a pretty name."

   He was trying so very hard, she found if adorable.

   She sidled closer to him, under the pretense of handing the bottle back.
"Your Rojando is very good," she said.  "I'm glad, as my Ghantian is poor."

   He grinned in the darkness, his teeth flashing lighter.  "I was just
telling my friend, a young man from the Costa, that languages were very
important to one who wishes to become a merchant," he said.

   She suppressed a giggle, fearing it would reveal her to him.  He passed
her back the bottle for another drink, using it, as she had, as an excuse
to get a bit closer to her.  She could now feel his homespun pants on her
bare knees when he moved.  Was she ready for him to try to kiss her?  That
he would try was not in doubt.

   She leaned a bit forward, inviting him to do so.  Sarina wondered if he
picked up on the subtle hint.  He shifted a bit, uncomfortably, from the
appearance of it.  Was he roused by her presence?  That idea thrilled her,
more than she would have thought.

   The boy reached for the bottle and she moved it, as if unconsciously
back a bit, leaving him a bit off balance.  His hand went out to steady
himself and gripped her thigh, just above her knee.  He managed to regain
his balance and sat back, and she handed the bottle to him.

   His hand stayed on her thigh.  She allowed it, then welcomed it by
putting her own over his, granting it tacit permission.

   "This is my first time in the Windy Isles," she said.  "I thought it
rained all the time here."

   He nodded.  "Most of the year, it does, but this is late summer, and it
dries up, relatively speaking," said Guisippe.

   "You've been here many times?"

   "Quite a few."

   Sarina reached for the bottle again, lifting up as she did so, his hand
moved a couple of inches up her thigh with the motion.  She felt him
attempt to pull it back, but she pressed her hand atop it down, holding it
in place, gently.  "I don't mind your touch," she said in a very quiet
voice.

   He looked down at his hand upon her soft, olive skin.  Finally, he
leaned toward her and kissed her.  She met the kiss aggressively, the
tensions of the time on the boat wrenching themselves loose and feeding
into it.  Soon, they were pressed together like old lovers, their lips
mashing hard and his tongue exploring her mouth.

   The young woman relaxed her pressure on his hand, letting it free. 
Almost immediately, it began slipping upward on her long thigh.  She kept
her hand atop it, applying pressure to stop him only when he had reached up
beneath the hem of her skirt and almost to her loincloth.  "No farther,
just yet," she said in an amazingly husky voice.  The sound of it surprised
even herself.

   He nodded, squeezing the thigh where he was, which sent a massive charge
of pleasure up her body.  Sarina felt her loincloth dampen slightly at the
sensation.  They kissed some more.  She decided turnabout was fair play,
and put one hand on his thigh, midway up it.

   Guisippe inhaled sharply at the initial contact, and moved his leg
slightly.  She suspected that he would not stop her hand's progress up his
leg, for obvious reasons.  She voluntarily stopped at a few inches below
his groin, simply gripping and releasing, as he was her thigh.

   His hand tried to move upward on her thigh, and she allowed an inch or
so, just enough that his fingertips reached, and brushed against the
loincloth.  Both of the young people were now breathing hard, eagerly
sucking air in to fuel their heated bodies.

   She echoed his motion, though, moving her slim hand up another two
inches.  She felt something solid and warm under her fingertips, and knew
she had reached a bit too far.  There was nothing for it now, and she
stopped there, letting her fingertips feel the side and head of his organ.
She smiled into their kiss as she felt it twitch under her touch.

   The kissing ended, and their hands moved back to more normal positions,
upon their knees.  "What brings you to Pigwillow?" he asked her.

   She thought a long moment, and then said.  "I suppose I can say it to
you," she said, conspiratorially.  "My father is a messenger for the King.
He travels much to relay important documents and missives."

   The lad's eyes widened.  "It must be terribly interesting," he said.  "I
wish I could tell you something more impressive than being an apprentice
merchant."

   Sarina leaned back.  "There's no shame in that, Guisippe," she said,
"it's an honorable profession."

   He grinned broadly.  "Aye, usually it is," he agreed.  "And it does
offer its fair share of interest."

   She laughed at that, still working to keep her laughter different from
that which he had heard her use on the ship.

   He leaned forward and kissed her again.  This time, she put one of her
slender hands on the back of his neck and massaged his scalp with her
fingertips.  His own hands weren't idle, however, and one brushed over the
edge of the loincloth, tracing it over the curve between her thigh and
groin.  She sighed at the close but not quite contact and their kiss
increased in ferocity, their lips parting, and tongues dancing with one
another.

   In near panic, she pulled back.  "I can't," she said.  "Not yet."

   "Yet?" asked Guisippe.  "As if we will meet again?"

   Sarina gave him a weak smile.  "We may," she offered, "you move about a
lot as do my father and I.  We may well meet again, any time."

   "I'll pray for it," said Guisippe, earnestly.  "I'm already smitten, I
fear."

   She smiled at him.  "Not an utterly unwelcome admission," she said,
moving back to her feet.  "I thank you for the drink, and the company,
Guisippe the Merchant."

   He rose to his feet, as well.  "And to you Lady Juanita," he said, "Your
company has graced me to the point of joy."

   A light blush rose in the young woman's cheeks.  "We'll meet again, I'm
sure of it," said Sarina.

   - - - - - - - - -

   "I told you not to get too close to Guisippe," said Alicia, lying on the
bed of their tiny inn room.  "I hope he didn't recognize you."

   Sarina was leaning on the door, her back to it, holding it shut.  "I
didn't mean to," she said, sighing.  "It just happened."

   "Well," said the older woman, "if he `just happens' to recognize you on
the ship, you may be in for a drubbing out of the merchant's guild that
will be memorable."

   She blinked at Alicia.  "A woman cannot be a merchant?" she asked.

   "Of course one can," said Alicia.  "But they frown much on open lying. A
merchant can stretch the truth, bend it a bit, even hide it, but to openly
lie gives them a bad name and they'll not tolerate that."

   Sarina nodded.  "I'll try to be more cautious," she said.

   With that near apology secured, Alicia excitedly sat up.  "Well, talk,
girl," she said, her eyes glinting with both alcohol and the promise of
gossip.  The effect was to both make her look younger and prettier than she
normally did.

   Sarina grinned and sat upon the bed, hiking one leg up onto the
mattress. "He bought wine for us, and we sipped it in the moon-shade of a
tree.  We spoke and I told him I am the daughter of a diplomat of the king
of the Costa," she paused to inhale, having delivered all that in one
breath.  "He kissed me, and we caressed in the dark, it was very exciting."
Her smile broadened noticeably.  "I felt his stem," she said, finally.

   "Did you?" asked Alicia.  "Worthy?"

   "I don't know," said Sarina, shrugging.  "I've nothing to compare it
to."

   "I do," said Alicia, reaching for her ditty bag, a small knapsack all
the sailors seemed to carry when off ship.  She lifted it onto the bed and
rummaged through it, finally coming up with a satin-wrapped shape.  She sat
the bag down and laid the shape between them, almost reverentially.  "Don't
be terribly shocked, okay?" she asked.

   "I'll try," said Sarina, eyeing the bundle.

   Alicia unwrapped it and Sarina immediately blushed crimson.  "It's a
man-part," she gasped.

   The older woman held it up, her hand obscenely gripping it at its
`base'. "Was he this large?" asked Alicia.

   Sarina thought back for a moment.  "Perhaps, or just a bit smaller or
bigger," she explained.  "I did not actually hold it."

   Alicia's eyes glinted with good-natured malice.  "Hold this one, then,"
she said, holding out the long, thick ivory phallus.

   Again, the younger girl blushed, but she timidly lifted a hand and took
possession of the artificial prick.  It felt massive and heavy in her hand,
smooth and cool to the touch.  "I can't believe you own such a thing," she
said in a whisper to Alicia, as if fearing being overheard on the ship.

   A smug grin formed on Alicia's face.  "While two girls do not need such
toys," she said, "it can sometimes be pleasant to feel a man's girth
inside, even if none are handy."

   "You've used this?" asked Sarina.

   "Aye, many a time," replied the older of the girls.  "It's larger than
many men, but not so large as some." Her eyebrows rose questioningly at
Sarina as she said `some'.

   Sarina looked closely at it, it was carefully crafted with veins and
all, and even a slight curve, rather than ramrod straight, as she had
imagined.  "Where is the foreskin?" she asked, her fingertips brushing over
the smooth, bulbous head.

   Alicia giggled.  "Notice that did you?" she asked.  "It was made in the
Western Realms, and those folks snip theirs off their lads."

   The younger girl's eyes widened.  "That's awful!" she said.

   "It's not so terrible," said Alicia.  "It is a religious thing with
them, a sign of devotion, or something."

   Sarina's eyes widened.  "They believe the One collects foreskins?" she
asked, her voice growing rather dubious.

   A long laugh from Alicia rang out as she thought on Sarina's words. 
"No, silly, they see it as cleaner than with a foreskin, and cleanliness is
next to godliness, in their minds."

   "Ah, I had heard boys must work hard to keep their tips clean," said
Sarina, though she had only heard it in the last day.

   "Exactly," said Alicia.  "And the men of the Western Realms simply have
an easier time of it, is all."

   Unconsciously, Sarina had gripped the phallus in both hands, squeezing
it as she spoke.  Alicia's eyes moved down to it.  "Would you like to
borrow that?" she asked.

   "Dear Lord, no," said Sarina, noticing it as if for the first time.

   Alicia took no offense.  "Then, I would have it back, for hearing your
tale has me a bit on the randy side of calm."

   With a smile, Sarina handed it back to Alicia who slid up the bed on her
rump and propped her upper body against the rough-hewn headboard.

   Sarina murmured something that Alicia failed to hear well.  "What was
that, dear?" she asked.

   "May I watch?" asked Sarina, louder and blushing deeper.

   The smile that spread on Alicia's lips was enticing and infuriating all
at once.  "Of course you may," she said, her voice almost a purr.  "I was
rather hoping you would."

   Alicia leaned back and closed her eyes.  Almost instantly, her breathing
changed, it became deeper and softer, with longer inhalations and
exhalations.  She sat the long fake penis beside her thigh and her
fingertips moved along her legs, sliding the soft cloth of the elven skirt
upward.

   Sarina's eyes were drawn to the tanned flesh of the older woman's
thighs, and the apparent softness of them as the fingertips left slightly
red marks that slowly faded back to the earthy tan.  The skirt was now
hiked all the way to her waist, and she gently pushed it aside, over the
left thigh.  Her loincloth seemed a bit moist, and colored darker blue
directly between her legs.  It was, however, soon gone and Alicia slid it
out from under the skirt's upper hem.

   Alicia's opening was revealed to her, pink and full and very wet
looking. A slight musky scent came to her nose that she found appealing,
despite herself.  Again, the fingertips moved, this time toward those moist
folds, when they brushed over them, Alicia moaned and Sarina almost moaned
in sympathy, knowing how good touching herself like that felt.

   The elder girl flicked one fingertip over the nub of a clitoris at the
top of the folds and gasped as her hips twitched involuntarily.  Sarina's
body gave a shudder, thrilling to the arousing sounds that Alicia was
making.

   Sarina hadn't seen Alicia open her eyes, so transfixed was she by the
show down lower.  One of the older girl's hands came up and stroked her
smooth cheek with the tips of her fingers.  "Still unsure about women as
lovers?" she asked.

   "A bit," said Sarina, "though only a small bit." She smiled at Alicia
and had to try to keep from looking down at the older girl's open and
wanton display of her opening.

   "You do it," said Alicia, sliding the phallus toward her with one hand.
"You don't need to even touch me yourself, just slide it into me."

   Sarina blinked at it a moment before her small hand picked up the cock
and held it up.  "Will it hurt you?" she asked.

   "Not really," said Alicia, smiling.  "Though it helps if you wet it
first."

   The younger girl looked blank for a moment.

   "With your mouth," said Alicia, smiling.

   "Oh," said Sarina, "just call me stupid." Distracted over her lack of
knowledge and not even truly thinking about what it was she was doing, she
licked the false cock and then pushed the head of it into her mouth,
wetting it with her saliva.

   "At the back of your mouth is very slick spittle," said Alicia,
helpfully.  "Just shove it back until you almost gag."

   Sarina did as the other girl said, pushing the head of the cock to the
back of her mouth.  She felt it pressing against her soft palate, and then
almost coughed.  Pulling it out, it had strings of saliva running from it.
The stuff was indeed slick, and her fingers slid over the surface now like
it were oiled.

   "Just push it in slowly, stud," said Alicia, remembering the word she
used for Sarino, her new lover.

   Cautiously, Sarina moved her hand down to hold the phallus before
Alicia's entrance, pressing the bulb of a head at the folds of the woman's
entrance.  Alicia moaned at the touch.  "It is so much nicer when someone
else is controlling it," she sighed.

   Sarina grinned up at her.  "You will really enjoy this?" she asked.

   "If you'll do it, aye," said Alicia.

   With that confirmation, Sarina pushed the ivory cock up into Alicia. 
She watched, fascinated as inch after inch slid into her, effortlessly. 
Alicia groaned and pushed upward with her hips until only the portion
within Sarina's hand remained outside the older woman.  "Nicely done," said
Alicia, her hips moving in a tiny circular motion.  "Well, as a lad, you're
no longer a virgin."

   Sarina blinked as she looked down where her hand held the thick phallus,
pushing it into the gaping slit of Alicia's entrance.  A delicious
sensation spread through her mind and she began to piston it into the older
woman, who responded with effervescence of her own, writhing and moaning in
time to her thrusting hand.

   A few moments later, Alicia cried out, screaming in pleasure.  Her hips
bucked and pushed against Sarina's hand, forcing her to grip the ivory
penis with both hands to keep ramming it into her friend.

   The older woman fell limp, sighing out a lungfull of air as she relaxed
in a post-coital glow.  "Wow, my stallion," she whispered, her fingertips
moving up Sarina's arm to the nape of the young girl's neck, just below her
hair.  She pulled the wig from her.  "Kiss me, Serino," she said.

   Serino moved over her prone body, still imbedded in her wet cunt, put
his hand behind Alicia's neck, and lifted her head to kiss her.  As they
kissed, slowly and gently, Alicia's hands moved over her arms and
shoulders, feeling the boy's twitchings.  Then he pulled forth from her,
sitting upright again.  He slid out of her well-used entrance, leaving her
feeling empty inside, but pleasantly sore.

   "I did well?" asked Serino.

   "Aye, my lover," said Alicia, curling up on her side, almost as if shyly
hiding from the boy's eyes.  "Lie beside me, now, and we'll hold each other
this night."

   Serino lay beside the pretty young woman, smiling at her and stroking
her long, blond hair.  "Of course," he said in his soft voice, "my lover."