The Marcott Academy

The Marcott Academy VI By: Jackie

VI

Chantel insisted on moving her stuff to the freshman prefect's quarters. Well maybe insist was a little too strong a word but Mildred Brown had no doubt how important it was to the chocolate skinned girl. It didn't take long. The teenager threw her underwear and night wear back into her suit case unceremoniously while the Head Mistress collected the uniforms and blouses on hangers from the closet. The room wasn't as large as Barbie's but it did have its own bathroom so it was clearly a huge step up.

"I'm so happy you made me prefect," Chantel cooed when they had finished the move. She slid her hand under the matron's skirt and ran it gently over her pantiless backside.

Miz Millie felt the familiar twinge but she was not a sexual machine and decided she'd had enough for one day. The older woman extracted the little brown hand from under her skirt and kissed it.

"Let's save some for another day," she proposed.

"Sure miz Millie," Chantel agreed plopping herself on her new bed about as ungraciously as it could be done. Her short kilt flew up revealing that she too had not bothered with panties after their love fest. Mildred knew that as sexually spent as she was, if she hung around this nymph any longer that she'd find her appetite again.

Speaking of appetite...

"I'm going to go down for some lunch," her teacher announced with her hand on the door knob. "Wanna join me?"

"Na... I think I'll stay here... or maybe see if I can find Barbie," the girl on the bed showing off her most precious asset replied.

"Suit yourself, but dinner's not until seven," she cautioned as she left the room.

The thirteen year old lay back on the bed feeling very smug.

Doctor Marcott's groans were getting progressively louder and more rhythmic. She alternated her attention between the replay of the black girl's entry exam and the live image from the freshman prefect's quarters. Since the girl on the bed was essentially motionless the Academy's founder had positioned and zoomed the camera so that only the adolescent black pussy occupied one of the twenty inch monitors. She glanced at the live show from time to time enjoying the rare chocolate treat.

On the other monitor doctor Beal was seated on the examination stool between those same black thighs explaining genital geography to the freshman spread out on her table. The visuals were highly erotic, but what had the sixty year old educator approaching climax was the knowledgeable and more importantly talented tongue of Rachel Beal.

Doctor Beal alternated between rapid flicks on the matriarch's distended clitoris and long slow swipes up the flooded labia. Every third or so swipe she would suck Miranda's thick lips into her mouth and almost chew them. As she felt her employer's excitement mounting toward its peak she slipped two, then three fingers into her vagina and began to pump. She now concentrated all her oral attention on the pleasure knob at the top.

Doctor Marcott had been waiting for this moment all day. She had deliberately teased, and allowed herself to be teased into a state of arousal that had made her uterus and vagina feel like a balloon that was steadily being inflated—over inflated—something had to give.

When she permitted the glorious explosion to happen the hot rush enveloped her while the thrilling sensation of release expanded out from her lower belly at a much slower pace. The waves spread in every direction and took control of all her muscles as they flowed. Even her toes flexed and tingled while her brain flooded with the most powerful narcotic known to man. The pleasure centers of her brain locked on the long denied satisfaction and sent the Academy's founder to a place where earthly physical laws did not apply. Even as her mind floated in the gravity-less world beyond, her earth bound body convulsed and she clutched the kneeling doctor's face hard up against her spasming cunt.

As planned the orgasmic plateau went on for most of a minute before she became aware of the shuddering and shaking again. There was an instant of disappointment when she returned to her earthly bounds, but the denial of satisfaction had worked to perfection extending her time off the planet by a factor of three or more. The regret didn't last it was very quickly replaced by the next phase—mind numbing contentment. Everything relaxed as the hot waves subsided to ripples.

In the post orgasmic bliss Miranda Marcott's eyes focused on the monitors once again. The live shot now displayed a rumpled and quite empty bed in the freshman prefect's dorm room. The teenager had departed but no matter the matriarch was pretty sure she knew where to find her. The other screen had automatically transitioned to the next recording. Her Head Mistress was seated between the smooth black thighs in her staff quarters. As she watched her administrator separate the delicate teenaged folds Doctor Marcott knew she just had to sample the delectable chocolate confection for herself—and soon.

Chantel knocked on her only classmate's door and waited patiently for a response. It was slow in coming. Barbie had been lying naked on her bed face down putting the cool side of the pillow on her pink derriere. She knew the knock was Chantel. Her well eaten pussy responded with a twitch which very much surprised her. The senior prefect had never felt so satiated and sincerely believed that she wouldn't be interested in sex for a couple of days.

Retrieving her robe from the closet and putting it on, she opened the door for the adorable little black girl. Chantel danced into the room exuberantly. "Guess what?" she chirped

"You had fun at your medical," the senior speculated distractedly.

"Well... that too, but that's not the surprise!" the spinning teenager replied.

"What then?"

"Miz Millie made me freshman prefect!" Barbara Trent was shocked and sat down immediately on her bed.

The freshman prefect was never chosen until two or three weeks after the start of classes. For the Head Mistress to hand the job out before the other girls arrived was unprecedented. She looked into the big brown eyes set in the flawless milk chocolate face and thought:

`be careful with this one she's a force to be reckoned with.'

"That's great honey... so you're getting the bigger room with the ensuite?"

"I already moved in," Chantel replied plopping herself on the bed beside her classmate.

Barbie's head was spinning.

`She's been here less than three days and she already has Mistress wrapped around her little finger.'

The younger girl let herself fall backward so she was lying across the bed with her lower legs dangling over the side. Sitting beside her the blonde saw the hem of the school issue skirt ride up until it barely covered the chocolate cookie. The pulse between the older girl's legs had her recalling the previous night, the one for which she'd received the arousing tanning that still burned on her taut buns. She envisioned the black kitty tattooed against the white cotton panties. Oh how she'd wanted to see it... taste it. She was coming to the conclusion that this freshman, quite against normal protocol, was no longer taboo.

But what if she is?' the prefect analyzed if I mess with her I'll probably get a worse spanking next time.'

"How does this prefect thing work?" Chantel asked, very aware of where her prey's gaze was focused.

"Well... we're responsible to observe the other girls and make sure they follow the rules. You'll get a notebook to keep track of infractions. Every Friday morning the prefects meet... that's you, me and Shannon McDermott... to discuss our observations. We decide which infractions merit punishment and how much. Then we report to miz Millie, who makes the final decision."

"Wow! That's a lot of power" the little black girl commented.

"Uh huh" Barbie agreed feeling the pressure beginning to build in her pelvis.

"So you like... vote?" the youngster asked to clarify the process.

"No... we discuss the observations and everyone has their say, then I... I mean the senior prefect decides on the recommendations."

The senior prefect was having more and more trouble concentrating on the freshman's questions. The little imp had squirmed and moved enough that miz Trent became aware that there were no panties under the plaid skirt. The slightest maddening hint of the black treasure was peeking out from beneath the checkered hem.

Chantel felt the arousing power-surge as she watched the strain developing on the pretty blonde's face.

"Last night... you really wanted to see my...uh... you know, didn't you?"

Barbie's eyes stayed riveted between the black girl's legs, but she nodded her head and it was accompanied by a little groan. "Do ya still want to...uh , you know... see it?"

Barbie moaned again. Her desire to get at the black pussy superseded her fears of the potential consequences. It was so close to being revealed she thought she could smell the girl's sweet scent, but of course her own fragrance was wafting up as well.

Chantel's hands were resting on her hips and she clawed delicately with her fingers causing the plaid hem to raise another half an inch.

"Would it be OK with you if I presented the prefect's findings to miz Millie?" the reclining girl asked continuing to raise her skirt ever so slowly.

Barbie could now see most of the lower part of the dark colored vulva and the sight was as thrilling as she'd imagined it would be. Her affirmative grunt in response to the younger girl's question was unintelligible.

"You want to kiss it too... don't you... just like miz Millie did."

The senior prefect was trembling and the cramps between her legs had reached unbearable levels.

"If I let you... uh kiss me here," the black girl said running her fingers over her now fully exposed mons. "Can I be the one who recommends?"

Another completely incomprehensible sound came out of the blonde but she was in motion, sliding off the bed and kneeling on the floor in front of Chantel's knees.

The black girl pressed her thighs together and put her hands over the chocolate treasure.

"Pardon?" the nymph demanded confirmation.

The kneeling girl looked up into the extortionists laughing brown eyes and said,

"Yes..." it came out breathless and weak. Chantel didn't move a muscle.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... you can be the one to make the recommendations," the blonde pleaded.

The brown hands stayed in place and the brown thighs remained tightly shut. Barbie looked up at her tormentor again in confusion.

"What else?" the black imp asked smiling.

The senior prefect, very unaccustomed to groveling in front of a freshman, searched the adorable thirteen year old's face for a clue. Then it came to her.

"May I eat your pussy now... mistress?" Chantel felt the deliriously satisfying feelings of dominance wash over her when the senior spoke the humble words.

"You may," she agreed pulling her skirt the rest of the way up to her waist and spreading her legs wide.

Barbie attacked with a pent up ferocity that shocked the inexperienced dominatrix. The older girl yanked the brown hips to the edge of the bed and descended on the startling pink gash like a dog that had just caught a rabbit—licking and sucking while shaking her head from side to side. It was only the second mouth that had ever been applied to her sensitive vulva and there was no comparison between this assault and the tender almost reverent ministrations of the Head Mistress.

Chantel, who'd been too caught up in her devious plot to realize how horny she was, was suddenly catapulted into ecstasy. Barbie had been waiting for it, begging for it, making concessions for it for so long that she was completely out of control. She hadn't even taken the time to enjoy the view which of course embodied the uniqueness. Once her face was buried in the hot spongy flesh it really wasn't any different than the dozens of white coochies she'd enjoyed.

It didn't matter. The need to get her mouth on the black girl's cunt had become an obsession.

The never before experienced aggressive stimulation worked quickly. Within two minutes the black girls hips were heaving off the bed and she was screaming out the third climax of her life.

Barbie felt the shudders and aftershocks rake the little brown body and reluctantly backed off as she'd been taught. Her own arousal seemed to have gone into some kind of suspension while she was devouring her classmate. Now the need in her crotch reasserted its urgency. Twisting off her knees she sat on the floor and plunged her hand through the gap in her robe. Her fingers played gently at first over her dripping honey pot before pulling the slippery lips apart and stroking firmly on the velvet interior.

With her free hand she explored the engorged black pussy stroking over and marveling at how dark it was on the outside. The post orgasmic vulva did not close completely and so still displayed the bright pink crease down the middle. The girl on the floor pulled the pastrami colored lips a part and thought

`We're just the same on the inside...' the profundity of the thought was not completely lost on her even as she squeezed her throbbing clit between her thumb and forefinger and felt the hot tidal wave of pleasure wash away the capacity for rational thought.

Chantel could vaguely feel the continued manipulation of her genitals and thought it was kinda like when the doctor had done it.

`I'm almost numb down there right now,' she was realizing when she heard Barbie's climactic scream. Then she knew her subservient classmate had attended to her own needs. It's just as well the black teen thought as the relaxing afterglow became a doze.

Chantel was surprised to find herself fully up on the bed with the blanket covering her. She caught the faint scent of perfume and rubbed her foggy eyes. Across the room the senior prefect was applying make-up at a table in the corner. The freshman pushed herself up onto her elbows for a better view.

"You better get up now sleepy head... if you want to shower before dinner... it's after six" the senior recommended.

"How long did I sleep for?" the confused thirteen year old asked through her haze.

"A couple of hours," Barbie replied.

The black girl lowered herself off the bed onto shaky legs and made a half-hearted attempt to straighten her rumpled uniform.

"I'll meet you down stairs," Chantel announced as she headed back to her own room.

The senior prefect wondered how her freshman classmate had beaten her to the dining room. When she saw Chantel sitting at the table, she thought,

`Maybe she's not so bright after all' but she didn't say anything, she just took her position standing behind her chair.

The black girl gave her an adorable smile and remained seated.

Miz Millie entered the dining room at seven on the dot. Barbie waited for the Head Mistress to react to the disrespect but was surprised and maybe just a little disappointed when the matron took her seat without a word. Miz Trent sat down immediately after the older woman.

The server, as if summoned by some telepathic signal, entered a few seconds later carrying three salads. She placed the seasoned carrot and raisin mixture in front of the women in sequence—the first to the teacher, the second to Barbie and finally to Chantel. The senior was watching the matron for her cue to begin. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her classmate pick up the salad fork. The younger girl had the first scoop of shredded carrots on the way to her mouth already. Once again Barbie braced for the school administrator's rebuke that didn't come. As soon as the Head Mistress had taken her first bite the blonde doll lookalike joined in.

`She can get away with anything!' was the thought that occurred.

"Doctor Marcott would like to see you at her residence after dinner," miz Millie informed the freshman when she had finished her first mouthful.

Barbie was shocked. She had never heard of a student being invited to the Academy's Founder's home. More significantly neither had Mildred. "I'll take you over there when we're finished."

The remainder of the dinner passed in near silence. Each of the women lost in their own thoughts. Barbie was wondering what kind of spell the chocolate skinned teenager had cast on the Head Mistress and how.

Mildred was pondering the unique instruction she'd been give to deliver the school's newest pupil to the mansion and wondered if this was going to be a new procedure.

Chantel was looking forward to her audience with the real power.

It was less than a mile so they could have walked but miz Brown elected to take the freshman up the winding driveway in her Jag. When they parked in front Miranda Marcott's home Millie looked at the teenager expecting to see a nervous little girl. She couldn't believe calmness and self assurance of the teenager's demeanor.

I get nervous when she calls ME up here,' Mildred thought. How can she be so cool about it.'

Greta, Doctor Marcott's maid and personal assistant, opened the door and greeted them.

"Hi Millie," she said brightly and then stooped a little toward the teenager. "And you must be Chantel."

"Uh huh," the black girl confirmed looking around the impressive marble and oak entry hall.

"Do you want me to come back to pick her up later?" the Head Mistress asked.

"No... I'll see to it that she gets back to her quarters," Greta replied taking the youngster's hand.

Millie turned and left feeling a little pang of something. The word jealousy flashed through her mind and she rejected it as she guided the XK-8 back down to the school.

They were walking through the luxurious residence when Chantel thought `I'm gonna live in a house just like this someday.'

Greta entered the drawing room towing the black teenager. Miranda sat savoring a snifter of Cognac. The matriarch looked at them and smiled. "Have a seat sweetheart," she said indicating the wing backed leather chair opposite hers.

Her assistant released the freshman's hand and left without a word.

When she'd gone to the washroom after dinner the teenaged temptress had rolled the waistband of her skirt up to make it even shorter. Now as she sat opposite the Academy's Founder she opened her legs to display the narrow strip of white cotton, evermore apparent framed by her smooth brown thighs. Chantel suppressed a grin as the matriarch's eyes were drawn to her indiscretion like a moth to a flame.

"So you'll be our freshman prefect," Miranda said without taking her eyes off the girl's crotch. The desire to touch and taste the African American delicacy that she'd only been able to observe on her monitors was becoming an imperative.

"That's right."

"Well it's a very responsible position," Doctor Marcott said and noticed that she was beginning to salivate.

"I intend to be the best prefect ever" the teenager assured the school's owner opening her legs slightly wider.

"Good... that's good..." Miranda commented and she wasn't sure if she meant the pussy display or the comment about the prefect job. "How did the lesson part of your examination with Rach... uh... Doctor Beal go?"

"It was good... uh, really... good" Chantel said in a dreamy little voice as the question stirred her memory.

The Academy's founder's memory was also stirring. The recollection of Rachel's expert pussy eating while watching the replay of the examination sent a jolt to the sixty year old pussy.

"Did you learn a lot sweetheart?"

"Oh yeah!" Chantel confirmed meaningfully.

"And did you review the lesson with miz Millie afterwards?" the matriarch knew the answer to her own question. She had the evidence on her hard drive. She just hadn't had a chance to look at it yet.

"Uh huh" the girl agreed.

The question sparked the memory of her second orgasm and turned the thermostat between her legs up to boil. The heat that had been slowly but surely building was now accompanied by an insistent tingle. Exposing her panty clad crotch to the school's senior executive was a kick but something much more was going to be required—and soon.

"It's part of the first term curriculum so there's going to be a test on it... do you think you've got it all straight?"

Here we go the black girl thought.

"Doctor Marco..."

"Call me miz Mandy," the matriarch interrupted. "That's what the girl's called me when I was still teaching."

"OK... miz Mandy... You don't have to make an excuse if you want to look at my cookie. I'll let you look... I'll even let you touch it and lick it, uh... if you ask me nicely."

Miranda was taken-a-back by the frank statement. She sat there speechless. Chantel sensed the subtle power shift and pressed her advantage. "Do you want to look at me?" the teenager asked running her fingers over the taut white cotton on which the older woman's eyes had been fixed.

Miz Mandy felt another spike of pleasure in her well used vulva. She'd been dreaming of this moment since her Head Mistress had stripped the black teenager naked in the shower yesterday.

Tiny brown fingers of her left hand played over the bulging crotch gusset while the inexperienced seductress began to slip the buttons on her regulation white blouse open with her right.

"In fact you can see all of me..." to which she almost added for a price' but stopped short. No point in getting her suspicions up,' she decided.

Following the last electric jolt through her clit Miranda's pussy had taken up a steady throb. Why does she affect me like this...' her mind toiled. It can't be just because she's black... but that's part of it.'

Her eyes flitted back and forth between the fingers running over the strip of white cotton to the nimble movements of the other tiny brown hand on the buttons of her blouse.

Chantel felt the heat radiating out to the fingers of her left hand through the double thickness of cotton. She also felt the stretched material becoming damp. She had to stop the faint teasing of her cookie lest she loose the control over the situation that she had, and was determined to maintain. When she opened the last of the buttons she brought her hands up and squeezed her little tits through the unconnected halves of the blouse front.

"Did you like looking at my boobies when I was in the shower?"

The question made Miranda shudder, `How did she know that's what made me cum? She knows about the cameras already!'

"Do ya wanna see them again?" the little teenaged voice offered.

The Academy's Founder was speechless so she simply nodded.

"OK," the extortionist conceded, "but you've got to do something for me."

"W... what?" the matron croaked

"I want the cameras out of my room," the teenager demanded.

"But... but..." the beleaguered woman protested.

"You can watch me any place else... every place else, just not there."

"But... I... I..." miz Mandy was stammering when she saw her tormentor begin to refasten her buttons.

"OK, OK... I'll have them taken out," she agreed feeling like she had just been slapped.

In spite of her chagrin the urge to put her hand inside her dressing gown was becoming harder and harder to resist. `This is not going according to plan,' she realized helplessly.

"Good! Will you do it tomorrow?" Chantel queried fingering the lapels of her blouse.

"I... I'll try.."

The imp's fingers were moving to re-button again.

"I'll do it... I will!" Miranda amended sounding overstressed.

Slowly the teenager parted the white cotton halves of the blouse that contrasted so nicely with her chocolate complexion. When the firm cupcakes with their dark chocolate centers were fully revealed miz Mandy could no longer contain herself. Her right hand slipped through the gap in her silk dressing gown and clutched her throbbing mound. The pressure on her engorged vulva felt good and her hand was quickly coated with the flood of lubricant that was forced out.

The black Lolita cupped her plump round cones and squeezed. Her breasts looked bigger than they actually were being contrasted with her tiny hands. Miranda was mesmerized by the suppleness of the pubescent titties being demonstrated by the girl's kneading fingers. She was even more enthralled with the growth of the nearly black nipples that were now sticking out a full half an inch. The matriarch felt the surging in her loins. A sensation like her pussy was bouncing on a trampoline—each bounce taking her higher. She was well aware of what this meant and stopped diddling immediately.

It was too late.

Even with her hand removed, her vulva continued its trampoline like surges—one... two... three more. The third surge sent her over the top of the mountain with that incredible rush of pleasure blotting out all thought. The battle against the impending orgasm lost she furiously frigged her pulsating womanhood to add fuel to the climactic rocket.

Chantel felt the booby squeezing being manifested between her legs. The hot waves and tingling were interrupted by a sharp pulse of joy when she realized her prey was cumming. She watched in fascination as the older woman's head snapped back and she let out a lung emptying groan.

`So much for restraint and protracted pleasure,' the senior woman chided herself when her head cleared.

"Oh that looked like a nice one," the teenager commented as her victim started lapping the thick juice off her hand. "Do ya still want to see this?" the black girl asked tugging at the elastic around each of her legs.

For miz Mandy the transition from post orgasmic contentment to the exhilaration of increasing arousal was abrupt. The floating serene feeling all at once faded and was replaced by lust. The urgent need to get her hands and her tongue on the black muff resurfaced seemingly stronger than ever.

It isn't so bad,' the Academy's Founder rationalized. I was prepared to work to get into her panties, and here she is freely offering herself... if I have to make a couple of concessions along the way what's the harm?'

She didn't answer the girl verbally—instead she chose to show the nymph her intentions. Pitching forward out of her chair the athletic sixty year old was kneeling between the brown African American knees before Chantel could prepare. The matriarch's somewhat boney fingers reached under the plaid skirt and hooked the waistband of the cotton briefs. The freshman temptress was delighted at the aging woman's display of libido. She did not resist the removal of her underpants and in fact raised her hips slightly to make it easier.

Miranda glanced at the expensive lace trimmed panties and concluded, `there's no way she's ever getting these back,' before dropping them on the carpet and resting her hands on the adolescent knees. Pushing outward she tried to slide her hands up the silky brown thighs. She was shocked and dismayed by the magnitude of the resistance.

The kneeling woman looked up to her pupil's face for a clue as to why she was being denied access.

"I wanna do the best job ever as prefect," the freshman informed her suitor.

Oh fuck!' the matron's brain screamed. Why is she bringing this up now?'

"I know you do sweetheart," the frustrated older woman agreed pushing a little harder. The milk chocolate thighs parted exposing the thick dark lips and the contrasting pink gash. Miranda inhaled deeply savoring the pungent sweet scent.

"To do it I need to have access to all the cameras."

The statement was like a fist to the solar plexus. All the air went out of the renowned educator and frankly she felt a little nauseous. Some girls graduated without ever realizing the surveillance was there. It was rare for a student to know about the sophisticated spying system before their senior year. This incredibly astute young woman had not only discovered the voyeuristic equipment in the brief time she'd been there but appeared to be demanding access in return for sexual favors. Doctor Marcott's head was spinning around the concept of a student, any student, much less a freshman, being privy to such sensitive intelligence. Still the sight and aroma of the dark vulva beckoned.

"Oh sweetheart I can't..." the teenager's thighs slammed shut.

The erotically spread pudenda was now no more than a demur triangle of black peach fuzz above the silky brown thighs. The doctor's hands were driven back to back between the vice-like closure of the little brown knees. Looking up Miranda was confronted with the face of resolve. Quid pro quo was the order of the day. Short of out and out rape the matriarch knew she had no alternative. The Academy's founder valiantly fought her lust.

`This is too much... this is unacceptable!' her reasoning brain screamed but her lusty sexuality ultimately prevailed.

"There's a viewing room be... beside the infirmary. I can give you access to that. But... but no one can ever know," miz Mandy capitulated and increased her outward pressure on the African American thighs once again.

"When?" the question was firm and the thighs unyielding.

"Tonight... tonight before you leave," the pathetic older woman promised feeling violated herself.

As if the final tumbler had clicked into place on a Federal Reserve vault the teenaged thighs parted exposing the ineluctable treasure. Doctor Marcott savored the moment of submission. She couldn't think about what she'd had to concede to reach this point only the thrilling fact that the virginal black cunt was now hers for the taking. Gently tonguing the outer folds and tasting the sweet nectar the kneeling woman exercised as much restraint as she could.

Chantel was incapable of differentiating the feelings of power that came as a result of her bartering from the ecstatic sensations being created by one of the most knowledgeable tongues in the history of cunnilingus. The expert pussy eater brought the pubescent child to the brink and back several times, pacing her lingual tribute to the teenager's moans and groans and thrusts. When her teacher allowed the forth climax of the day—of her life—to finally overtake her the teenager collapsed back into her chair dizzy and spent but completely cognizant of what she had achieved.

The next several minutes were long and extraterrestrial as the two women with the fifty year plus age differential cuddled in sexually satiated paradise. The Academy's Founder ultimately pushed the button that brought Greta back.

Doctor Marcott's personal assistant was not in the least surprised that she had to dress her cargo before she could load it. The sleepy teenager seemed to be ambivalent to the action. She was very very tired now and wanted nothing more than the tranquility of her own bed. When Greta undressed her and laid her in her freshman prefect's bed for the first time, the teenager reflected on her accomplishments with exhausted satisfaction. The warm soothing covers enveloped her. A vision that she'd be totally in control before the first of this year's class arrived floated just out of reach.

`It's too easy,' she troubled, but euphoric sleep descended quickly.

THE END

And I do mean the end—the end of my writing career such as it was. Farewell faithful readers/commenters. In the end there were just too few of you. Jw1137@hotmail.com

Remember to contribute: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html