Camilla Ch. 100

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Camilla’s next memory vision was one that had occurred eight years before her predicament in the public aquarium. She was twenty-nine at the time, and she and her husband Cameron had been lecturing on English literature in Montreal’s McGill University for a year.

She still felt guilty about the encounter she’d had with the ‘masseur’, and hadn’t found out he was one of the masked men. The pain of that guilt, however, had abated somewhat; for she’d been controlling her sexual urges very well ever since, and the masked men hadn’t done anything else to trouble her…yet.

One afternoon in late September, Camilla was lecturing on Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter, and she was enjoying showing off her wide range of knowledge–of everything from the best of all Christian virtues to the darkest forms of evil in the themes of all great literature. Indeed, there was much of both in Hawthorne’s novel. She found discussing the redemption of adulteress Hester Prynne especially therapeutic.

“Though shunned by her priggish society,” Dr. Camilla Fox went on, reaching the end of her class, “Hester actually becomes a much better Christian than all of her Puritan neighbours combined. Time has passed since her affair with the minister Dimmesdale, and she has spent that time helping the sick and the poor, a far better thing to do than self-righteously judging the sins of others. She has gone full circle, going from extreme shame to extreme honour, from the hellish bitten tail of the ouroboros to its heavenly biting head. Sometimes a brief visit to hell actually saves us. Think of Jesus between His own death and resurrection.”

One attractive young man–tall, thin, and blond–was listening to her words in rapt attention. He was as intellectually turned on by her ideas as he was physically turned on by her body. Who wouldn’t have been? She was wearing tight beige slacks, black high heels, a white dress shirt unbuttoned low enough to show off a bit of black lace brassiere, and bright, heavy makeup to put some colour on her otherwise pale, ‘Goth-looking’ skin. Her black hair and eyes were particularly enticing to the boy.

Class ended, and everyone left the room except him and Dr. Fox, a name all the male students found quite apt for her.

“Dr. Fox?” he said, drawing her attention from the papers she was looking at on her podium. “That was a great lecture.”

“Thanks,” she said with a grin. “You’re Mike, right?”

“Yeah,” he said shyly. “You remembered my name. Wow.”

“How could I forget, sweetie? You who always have a lot to talk to me about after every class. What would you like to ask me today?”

“Well, uh,” he began, leaning against a desk and pushing out his right knee, “You’ve mentioned this symbol of a snake coiled in a circle, biting its tail, several times over the past few lectures.”

“The ouroboros,” she said, standing up close in front of him, with her legs spread open a bit.

“Yeah, the ouroboros. It’s a symbol of eternity, of endless cycles; but you seem to speak of it in a different way. Can you explain your interpretation? I’m not sure I understand it.”

“Well, I see it as the Western version of yin and yang in Chinese philosophy. We never have one opposite without the other one, right next to it. All opposites–folly, wisdom; good, evil; heaven, hell; et cetera–can each be put on its own continuum ranging from one extreme to the other, with every intermediate point lying in between. You can then take those extremes and coil the line of each continuum into a circle, and one extreme opposite mysteriously dissolves into the other–a circular continuum. The serpent biting its tail represents that idea to me.” She moved a little closer to him, her crotch almost touching his knee.

“I see,” Mike said. “So the hell of Hester’s shame dissolves into saintliness with her charitable deeds; while Dimmesdale’s shame over sleeping with her is kept secret, and his hating of himself, which ironically reinforces his false public image as a good, humble man of God–always seeming holy in his confessions of worthlessness–that ultimately kills him.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Hester goes from bitten tail to biting head, in her confrontation with her sin, and in her resolve to be charitable. Dimmesdale, however, goes from biting head to bitten tail, in his cowardly inability to confess his sin, and in his perpetuating of his false image as a virtuous Christian. He confesses his worthlessness only in a general sense, and this impresses his flock; but never until his death does he take responsibility for sleeping with Hester by publicly admitting to it, for such a confession would have been too shocking.”

“Brilliant,” Mike said, beaming almanbahis adresi at her as she used to do with her old teachers. “You’re amazing, Dr. Fox.”

“Thank you.” Camilla suddenly started feeling hot, both physically and sexually; she was breathing heavily as she eyed the cute boy. She’d been successfully resisting adultery for over a year since her encounter with the ‘masseur’, sleeping only with Cameron. But temptation was taking her over, and quickly. “You’re obviously a very bright young man.” She put her crotch on his knee and rubbed where her vulva was back and forth against him.

“Th-thank you,” he panted. Though getting very excited from his teacher’s come-on, the shy boy needed an excuse to cool down from this all-too-hot situation, so he nervously looked down at his watch. “Oh, I gotta get to my next class.” He got up from the desk and picked up his book-bag. “Bye, Dr. Fox.”

“Bye,” she said, grinning at him as he shuffled out of the classroom. “What a little hottie.” Then she quickly cooled down. “But I’m married, and I already have a scarlet letter of my own.”


Mike met up with a male friend of his in the hall just outside Camilla’s classroom.

“So how was your class with The Fox?” his friend asked.

“Hotter than usual,” Mike said. “As I was asking her questions, I was leaning on a desk with my knee sticking out, and she started rubbing her pussy against it.”

“Holy shit!” his friend whispered. “Fuck her, man! Fuck The Fox!”

“I think she wants me to.”


The next day, Camilla saw Mike walking down the hallway of another building on the McGill campus.

Catching up to him, she said, “Hi Mike!” with a big grin.

“Oh, hi,” he said shyly.

“Where are you off to?” she asked.

“Oh, a class on the Romantic poets,” he said.

“Oh, really? Who will you be studying today?”

“Coleridge. ‘Kubla Khan’.” They got into an elevator together.

“Oh, the one who decreed a pleasure-dome in Xanadu. ‘And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair!'”

“You know the poem well?” Mike asked, pressing the button for his floor.

“Oh, yes. My doctoral thesis dealt with it,” she said, pressing the button for hers. “‘Kubla Khan’ deals with the influence of drugs–opium in particular–on poetic inspiration, and with creativity and the poetic imagination.”

“Can you help me with it? I’m having trouble understanding it.”

Heating up again, she said, “Sure. We can discuss it over dinner.”

“R-really?” he asked, getting hot himself.

“Sure,” she said, grinning. “My treat. Do you know Chez Louis?”

“Y-yeah, that classy restaurant. Wow, it’s pricey, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that’s not a problem for me, don’t worry,” she said. The elevator doors opened.

“I can meet you there at 8 tonight. Oh, here’s m-my floor.”

She gently caressed his buttocks. “Great. See you then.”

“Bye,” he said nervously, then got out of the elevator.

Cooling down as she continued up to her floor, she thought, What am I doing? I’ll help him with Coleridge, and that’s it! I love Cameron, and only him!


That night, she and Mike were eating at Chez Louis.

“So what do you think about the untimely death of Prime Minister Van Duyne?” she asked Mike.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “It’s odd how not only he died, but also the American president, the prime minister of England, and the German chancellor died, all within the space of a month.”

“And they’re all Green Party leaders,” she added.

“Do you believe that tripe about Muslim terrorists conspiring to kill them?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Muslim fundamentalists hate us ‘infidels’, and want to kill us all. I should know: I was in Bali several years ago, where the Bali bombing had happened. It was really scary having so many of them around, ruining vacationers’ fun with our fear of them. And why do they hate us? Because we would rather worship the Goddess, our Mother Earth, than pray to Allah,” she said.

“But the Greens are creating emergency laws and suspending civil liberties. That’s just plain wrong.”

It’ll only be temporary–for our safety.” She stabbed some meat on her saliva-spotted fork and brought it over for him. “Here, sweetie: let me feed you.” She put the fork in his mouth, and he bit off the meat.

After chewing it a bit, he asked, “But how long will ‘temporary’ be? Months? Years? Decades?”

“If the Muslim extremists win, they’ll impose sharia law, and restrict our freedoms in a much worse way. Here, baby: have some more food.” She served him more of her food on her fork. He wrapped almanbahis adres his lips around it, and pulled the food off her fork. “Feeding you is so sexy, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” he said, chewing. “But let’s not get too far off topic here. I can’t see things getting much worse than they are now. We don’t even know if the Muslims are guilty.”

“Looked pretty obvious to me on the TV,” she said, putting some more of her food on her fork and feeding him.

“Yeah, but do you really trust the media? They could have manipulated the images to deceive us. The West is paralyzed with fear and desire. I’m sure the Greens are taking advantage of this–I suspect even causing this fear. Now there’s talk of war with the Arab world. This is awful,” he said, taking some more food off her fork.

“Well, war may be necessary.”

“But the destruction that war causes can only hurt the Earth. That goes against the principles of the Green Party. They’re being hypocritical.” She fed him more of her food from her fork.

“Well, they want to bomb only dry, desert areas,” Camilla said. “There will be few, if any, trees to harm, I imagine. When they win, the Greens hope to bring vegetation to those areas.”

“How do they hope to do that, in the desert? Can they do miracles?” He took more food from her fork into his mouth.

“Oh, they have special abilities,” she said automatically, not even consciously aware of what she was saying. Mike was now also in a trance. “With their divine power, they can actually influence the climate, causing rainfalls where there had never been rain before. As soon as they put sod on the sand, you’ll see. With vegetation and plentiful precipitation–each raindrop with its own microscopic black egg of nourishment–the Green Party will more than compensate the Muslims for any lives lost. The Arabs will then grow crops, and feed their families. We’ll solve their economic and political problems, bring them into conformity with our democratic values, and have the Green Party in their countries. When they’re all like us, then we’ll have world peace.” She fed him again.

“I see,” he said, still dazed. “Now I understand.” He ate from her fork again.

“You’ll vote Green Party, always.”

“I’ll vote Green Party, always.”


After their dinner, they left the restaurant and walked down a street towards the bus stop.

“We never talked about Coleridge,” Mike said.

“Oh, well,” Camilla said. “We’ll have to do so during another date.” They reached the bus stop. “OK, we’re here.” Heating up again, she patted him on the behind.

“Uh, can I have a good-night kiss?” he asked.

Remembering Cameron and cooling down with considerable effort, she said, “Sorry, sweetie. You’re really cute, but I’m happily married, with a ten-year-old son. I had a great time tonight. Good night, and we’ll do this again real soon, OK? Bye.” She began walking away.

“OK, good night,” he said, frowning in disappointment.

On her way back to her car, she thought, Well, I resisted temptation; but I set myself up for more. Being a faithful wife is getting more and more difficult every minute.


Camilla and Mike made another date the following week, and she went to meet him in his apartment. Burning with a heat that seemed to be coming from outside of her, she fought hard against temptation as she walked into his apartment building.

I’m just helping him with ‘Kubla Khan’, she thought as she approached the elevator. No feeding on honey-dew for me; no fun in his pleasure-dome. She pressed the button for the elevator to come down to the ground floor.

Waiting in his apartment for her and about to take a shower, naked Mike was also feeling a strange heat permeating his body. He had a partial erection that pointed at a 45 degree angle from his standing legs. Camilla rang the doorbell, and he felt compelled to answer the door naked.

Afraid his nudity would scare her away, he opened the door only about a foot wide; nonetheless, he absent-mindedly stood so most of his left side–his left arm, left nipple, left hip, and left leg–were showing to Camilla’s delighted eyes.

“Hi Dr. Fox,” he said with a smile.

“Hi,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re naked?” She began ogling him, hoping to see more.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, turning to the side so she could see him in profile, while keeping his erection hidden behind the door. Her eyes greedily poured all over his skin. “I was about to take a shower. You can come in and wait for me at my desk if you want.” He opened the door a little wider as he walked from the doorway to the bathroom.

She came in and saw his almanbahis adresi pretty buttocks for the first time. Sighing at the beauty of his tall, thin, young body, she caressed him along his anal cleft.

He stopped and looked back at her with a smile. “Do you like what you see?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” she panted, still ogling his ass.

“Wanna see some more?”


He turned around, showing her his long, thick, hard cock. Her face lit up with lecherous ecstasy at the pointy prick she was staring at.

“Well?” he asked, smiling immodestly. “What do you think?”

“You’re beautiful,” she said, almost crying as she continued staring at his hard-on. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“I have to take my shower now.”

“Let me bathe you, sweetie.”

“OK.” They went into the bathroom together, and he got in the tub. He put in the plug and turned on the water. As the water slowly rose up, she lathered up the soap.

She started by rubbing the lather in circles on his chest as he washed his face. Then she soaped up his arms and armpits, then his belly; he was rubbing shampoo on his hair. Naturally, she spent a long time thoroughly cleaning his cock and balls, always careful not to get him so excited that he would ejaculate and then be limp. (She used Nigrovum to keep his erection peaking, but never climaxing.) He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair.

“OK, baby,” she said. “Turn around, and I’ll clean you from behind.” He turned around, and she built up a lather while he rinsed his front off.

Now she got the lather all over his back, and moved down to his buttocks, again taking longer and being more thorough.

“Can you bend over and spread your legs, please?” she asked.

“OK,” he said, and bent over. She began soaping up his asshole, and slid her soapy finger an inch or so inside. “Ooh!”

As her finger continued soaping up his asshole, she asked, “So sweetie, have you ever had homosexual feelings?”

“No, of course not,” he said. “Unh! Why do you ask?”

“I’d love to watch a beautiful boy like you satisfy the lust of a gay man in bed. Him penetrating you anally, then you blowing him. It’s a kinky thing I’m into.” She pulled her finger out of his asshole.

“Eww! Sorry, that’s not my thing.”

“No big deal. It’s not like I’d ever make you do it.” She squatted down and started soaping up his legs and feet. Guiltily remembering how she’d sexually humiliated her transvestite ‘priests’, she knew she’d never make Mike do any of that. “OK, let’s rinse you off.” She took the shower head from him and rinsed off his back and ass. He, still bent over, pulled out the plug.

He got out of the tub, and she got a big towel and dried him off, paying extra special attention to his cock, balls, and ass. Then they left the bathroom and sat on the bed.

“So, what do you want me to wear, and where will we go?” he asked, looking over at all the clothes hanging in his closet.

“You aren’t wearing anything,” she said, staring at his still hard cock. “And we’re going nowhere.” She took his head in her hands and plunged her tongue inside his mouth.

They were moaning loudly as they French-kissed, her playing with his cock and balls, but never enough to make him come. Then she stood up and began unbuttoning her blouse. He just sat on the bed and enjoyed the show.

I’m finally gonna see The Fox naked, he thought, grinning. Alright!

Off came her blouse, revealing a white bra. Then she undid her dress pants and pulled them down, showing him her white panties. He was thrilled and amazed to see so young-looking a body on a 29-year-old. Indeed, she seemed to have the body of a girl in her early twenties. He hoped her breasts wouldn’t sag. She took off her high heels, then pulled her feet out of the leg holes of her pants. Now she straightened up and put her hands on the hook of her bra.

The moment of truth, he thought; firm, or floppy?

She unclipped and removed her bra with her characteristic wiggle of her still perfectly shaped breasts. His eyes almost popped out of his head to see their flawless hugeness.

Thank God, he thought. Her bras haven’t being lying.

Then she pulled down her panties, revealing her Nigrovum-blackened pubic hair. He was practically salivating at the sight of her nude loveliness. She turned around for him.

“OK, baby,” she said with a grin. “How do I look?”

“DIvine,” he panted. “Let me make love to you, Goddess!”

She got on the bed on her back, and he got on top of her in the missionary position. He looked in her eyes as he slowly slid his big cock inside her wet pussy. She looked up at him and squinted as her agape mouth released high-pitched squeals of pleasure. He pushed in half-way, rubbing against her tingling G-spot; then his cock went in all the way, kissing her A-spot. She screamed in whistle register and came her first orgasm of the night.

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