Message-ID: <12121eli$9806121638@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: mswillow@juno.com (Jeannette C Wilson) Subject: Us Three, part 8 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980612.131425.7615.7.MsWillow@juno.com> Tgff, rom, spank, interracial, intergenerational, mild BDSM, Witchcraft This story contains sex, full frontal nudity, bondage, SM, transsexuals, lesbians and a few other things that might not be legal in your locale. If you do not choose to read about this, or if it is illegal for you to do so, do not read it. Skip it in its entirety. Avoid it at all costs. However, if you wish to continue, you may find this isn't your typical wank story. Each part has something of a plot, or at least a reason for happening, and the whole story is filled with very much love and romance, and a moderate amount of sex. Sorry, guys looking for typical TG stories won't find this one real interesting. Tough. It is, however, realistic. It's about me ("Jeannette" aka "Jean"), my fiancee Michelle (aka Chelle), and another friend of mine, Rachel. None of this story actually happened, and I've never met Rachel in real life, yet I've tried to show us all realistically, as we might have done the events described. I wrote most of this a year ago. It is my second-ever attempt at writing anything serious. Once I finish it, I'll also post the first attempt, which I call "Rewards." I call this one, "Us Three." Enjoy. Blessed Be Jeannette mswillow@nomorespam.juno.com Oh, just because I'm sharing this with y'all doesn't mean that it's not copyrighted. It is. However, I WILL let y'all make copies of it, ifn you give me the credit (or assign me the blame) for having written it. If you're making money off of it, that's great too. Hope you make a big-assed pile of it, so you can roll around in it and retire forever, and hire Bill Gates to lick your shoes clean for you. Just please keep me as the author of this, ok? Thanks. Jeannette Us Three copyright (c) 1997, 1998 Jeannette Cathy Wilson Part Eight A parent's worst nightmare - staying up late on a rainy night, waiting for her child to return, when the phone rings. Hello? Yes, this is she. Oh my Goddess! Is she OK? Where is she? I'll be right there. *click* I rouse Michelle and let her know that Rachel's been in an accident. She hurriedly dresses, jeans and a tee-shirt and her boots and she's ready. I still haven't undressed yet - a quick check in the mirror, some more powder, grab my purse and keys and we're off in the Jeep. While we drive, Michelle wants to know what happened. All I can tell her is what the hospital told me, that she'd been hit driving down Third, apparently coming home from the library. We pull into St. Joseph's lot, thankful for the 'Clergy' tags I got years ago (Dianic Wiccan High Priestess and legally ordained Minister). We go to the Emergency room to see Rachel. She's alive, just badly banged up. Her face is a mess - apparently she wasn't wearing her helmet, but she survived anyway. I can't cuss her out for this, I'm just glad she's alive. "Love, what happened? Are you OK?" "I'm OK, sort of. Hurts a lot, but they say that I'm OK. I think I broke my leg, tho, and the bike's all squashed. Some guy in a black van blew a stop doing about fifty, and when I tried to get out of his way, the bike went down. Thank Goddess I was thrown clear - I remember him hard on the brakes as he hit the bike, barely missed me, then he was hard on the gas, running away. I got most of his license plate number, tho." Rachel smiled. Good girl! She keeps her head even in a crisis. "Did you tell the police that?" Michelle asks. "Yeah, just after they got me here. I told them the whole story, they got my license and insurance and stuff." "Oh, sweetie, I'm just so glad you're going to be OK!" I said. Both Chelle and I leaned over to kiss her. While Chelle stayed with her, I went out to find the police officer whom I spied while coming in. "Are you her parent, Ma'am?" "Well, not exactly, but close enough. She's in my care while she's in school." "Can I get your name and address, in case we need to get in touch with her?" "Sure, no problem, Officer." He got the info down in his notebook. We stayed until they let her go home, wheeled out to the Cherokee with her leg in a cast. I had Michelle put the crutches in the back, while I helped Rachel get in. We all got buckled up tight, reminded of our mortality by this accident, and I carefully drove us home as dawn was forlornly creeping over the city. When we got home, I called work to say that I wouldn't be in, and called Rachel's folks to let them know. Of course, they came right over and fussed over her for an hour or so, but eventually they left, re-assured that Rachel was OK. Days passed, and we settled into a slightly different routine. I took Chelle's Gold Wing to work, so that she could drive Rachel to school. We had Rachel's Yamaha taken to a shop, and eventually it got repaired. $500 deductible, and they raised our rates after that. The insurance company dicked us around on every little detail, as is their job I guess. I kept checking to see if the police had caught the guy who did it, but they still hadn't caught him. The van he used turned out to be stolen - they did find it, and most of a case of empty beer cans in it, but not the driver. Finally, exasperated at how little progress was being made, I had a talk with my grrls. "Grrls, you know there *is* something we can do to help. Magik. I want the son-of-a-bitch who did this to my grrlfriend caught. Would you two like to help?" "Sure, Jean!" "Yeah, when can we start?" "How about tonight? I need to lay in a few supplies first." We agreed, and I set off in search of a few things... some candles, some charcoal, some incense, stuff like that. That night, I made us a wonderful spaghetti dinner - doing real magic takes effort, and I didn't want anybody passing out. After cleaning up the dishes, I gathered my grrls together in the bedroom, which is our most-sacred space. I lit some charcoal in my little brass censer, lit the candles for light, and put some intense trance-inducing dance music in the CD player. I called the four corners for protection and cast a circle, bringing us three to a place that is no place, in a time that is no time. As the grrls clapped in time to the beat to raise power, I called for our Goddess, Diana, to help us. "Diana, we're here, so please let you be near. My lover's been hurt, she's been treated like dirt and she wants it fixed, so please now, no tricks. Driving home in the dark, she was nearing the park when some guy blew a light. Imagine her fright! Into Rachel he crashed, and her leg got all smashed, then he turned tail and ran, cruising off in the van. He caused her much pain, driving fast in the rain in some other guy's car driving home from a bar. We want this guy found, in handcuffs be bound, to be thrown in the jail where he'll sigh, cry and wail." The grrls started chanting in time to the music, raising more power. I continued the spell. "I know it's not fun, but let justice be done. The police force is stumped by this drunken young punk. Your help we do seek, we must find this geek ere he injures another, a sister or brother. Let him trip, let him fall, on his belly he'll crawl to the arms of The Law where, by flapping his jaw he'll confess to his crime and they'll make him do time." As the song neared its end, I raised pulled the power into my hands, building a large ball of pure magical energy. I eyed my grrls, and they nodded, ready for the ending. "We want this job done by the dawn of the Sun," and then, in unison, "By the voice of us three, an we say, MAKE IT BE!" As the song crashed to its finale, I hurled the ball of Power skyward, to Diana, to help her in her job. We stopped, out of breath. I gathered my two young grrlfriends into my arms, proud of them. Tired as we were, the hugs of comfort soon turned semi-amorous. We retired to bed and made slow, tired-but-pleased love, taking care not to move Rachel's leg too much. Each time I saw her wince in pain, I fired another shot towards the guy who'd hurt her. The energy we raised from the love-making, I put into healing Rachel's injured leg. Two days later, we got the telephone call from the police. Seems they had responded to an accident report last night. Some drunken young guy in a stolen Camaro had lost control and hit a tree. The switchblade he had in his belt had tripped upon impact, slicing into his penis. The police arrived to find him crawling around, blood all over his jeans, trying not to bleed to death. Once they got him through the emergency ward, and ran his fingerprints, they matched the ones in the stolen van. When confronted with this, he confessed to both the theft and hitting "some longhaired biker." Rachel positively IDed him in a lineup a few days later, and eventually he did serve five years for a variety of offenses. Rachel's leg healed rather faster than usual (gee, I wonder why? Could the power we put into it in our near-nightly lovemaking sessions have helped?). When I drove her home from the hospital with her freshly-healed leg, she thanked me in the best possible way. "Jean," she said, "first off, I would like to thank you so very much for all you've done for me. You're helping put me through college, you help me with my Comp Sci homework, you bought me the bike, you were there for me when I got hit, and you healed me afterwards. You've always been there for me. No, for us, cause you do the same for Michelle. Is there anything I can do for you?" I sat there, blushing. How to explain to this 18-year-old grrl that she pleases me utterly just by being with me? That I had never in my life believed I'd find one woman to love me-the- person, let alone two such treasures? That she and Michelle were helping me learn to actually *like* myself for who I am, and forget about the past? I tried my best. "Love, just be yourself. That, truly, is all that I need, just knowing that you love me, and that I'm good for you." I kissed her tenderly on her cheek, lay her head on my breast, and cried tears of joy, peace and happiness. _____________________________________________________________________ You don't need to buy Internet access to use free Internet e-mail. Get completely free e-mail from Juno at http://www.juno.com Or call Juno at (800) 654-JUNO [654-5866] -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----