This story is purely fictional and meant for adult audiences only! All resemblance to actual persons is coincidental. It contains graphic sex described in first person narration by its transgendered, teenage protagonist. If you are not an adult, or if you find this type of material offensive, please stop reading and dispose of this file. You have been warned of the content. If you proceed neither the author nor the site host will be held responsible!

 

The Greatest Lie

by Alexandra Rios©

 

Chapter 8

Belles of the Ball

 

I love academia just as I love getting fucked; each validates me in a different way. I was born of academic parents, and was holding forth at their cocktail parties before I could pronounce all my consonants. To me research papers and exams are just opportunities to display my superior intellect and diligence. By semester’s end, I had not only aced my own courses, but I had successfully tutored my dumb jock boyfriends Rick and Randy through theirs: they had so excelled that their hockey coach wanted me to tutor the rest of the hockey team next semester. I figured I could convert that into work-study credit, and endless nights of hot, varied sexual encounters with the squad. I had so overawed my English professor with my contemporary translations of the Canterbury Tales that she insisted that I co-author a Middle English to Contemporary English dictionary with her: another no-brainer for me. I’m fluent in French, Latin and Swedish, so Middle English was like a walk in the woods. Professor Finch, my mentor for my Trangendered Sex Industry Workers project, had been so delighted with scope and detail of the sixty T-Girl interviews that I had completed first semester that he was submitting my independent study for publication in Annals of Contemporary Anthropology: he had assigned one of his grad students to write our grant proposal. Professor Epstein of the law school had cajoled the Undergraduate Dean to let me take an upper level law school course for undergraduate credit. Next semester, I simply would not have time to take any of the ordinary freshman curriculum. Thus, it would not matter if I returned to classes a few weeks late, as would be necessary to give me time to recover from my planned sex reassignment surgery.

My greatest fear, dealing with the University about my gender reassignment, turned out to be no problem. The Dean of Students was holding a thick sheaf of letters of support from the cream of his faculty when I proposed re-registering as a female student in the Spring Semester. I’m sure Epstein’s support, and the implicit threat of litigation, moved the bureaucracy. The Dean and the Scholarship Review Committee both signed off on my gender reassignment without a whisper of dissent.

Brad Whitman had gotten passports and visas for Thailand in Tran’s and my female names. When I met him to pick them up, I confided the purpose of our journey. "I thought you were broke. How are you going to afford the operation?" he demanded. "Well, I am planning a real life test of yours and Epstein’s First Amendment theories."

"Oh my god, I’m sorry I asked," he replied, flushing with embarrassment. "Just because Epstein writes that prostitution is protected speech, it doesn’t mean you have to practice it! You’re so terrific as a thinker and a writer. Why are you wasting yourself, and risking your life?"

"You know, what my research shows on a personal level is that it’s hard for transsexuals to form lasting relationships. Yet for most of us, realization of our sexual identities is manifest primarily through sexual relationships. Like you, most guys aren’t interested at all in transsexuals, and those who are usually are only interested in one-night stands, for kicks. Advertising in the personal pages, hanging out at pick up clubs, and streetwalking are the just ways to reach out and find new guys to fill the void, to continually validate oneself as desirable and acceptable. And in those sorts of relationships, the guy expects to pay, so he can assure for himself the dominant role, and the ability to leave when he’s done. So, in a way, prostitution is at the basis of the sexual expression of transsexuality. To forbid it is to suppress that expression."

"So the money is secondary? Unbelievable! You just admitted you were doing it for purely meretricious reasons."

"That’s the other side of the problem. Because of all the social disapproval and dissonance about transsexualism, career opportunities don’t exactly abound. The sex industry is the only place where we can reliably make a living. And I’m not exactly streetwalking. I’m going to be in a movie."

"Well, that’s completely different. Art for art’s sake, no doubt," Mark said sarcastically.

"More like, life imitating art," I retorted.

"You’re going to have to live with your "art" for the rest of your life."

"I’m going to forget it as soon as the check clears, and afterwards, I’ll look different for the rest of my life."

"Oh well, you gotta do what you gotta do!" We looked in each other’s eyes, saddened by this confrontation. I blinked first.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say good bye like this. Have a happy holiday, Mark."

"You too, and travel safely. Good luck."

"Thanks, see ya next semester."

Tran was delighted with her new passport. She had renamed herself as Terri New. I was now Alexandra Rivers. We celebrated by smoking a joint, my first since the beginning of the semester. (I never smoke dope during a semester; it wreaks havoc on short-term memory). Just after we finished, the doorbell rang. It was Rick and Randy, back from their last final. They had already downed a few beers, and were looking for me to help them celebrate.

They took an immediate interest in Tran. She is really exquisite. She has light skin for an Asian, glossy, smooth black hair that falls to her round, but tiny ass, small bones, a slender waist, a perfectly proportioned, high cheek boned face and soft, inviting lips surrounding a slightly toothy, but winsome smile. She smiles and laughs readily and infectiously, and she possesses a biting but self-deprecating wit. But the features which caught Rick and especially Randy’s goggling eyes were her D-cup breasts, cantilevered, jiggling and seeming to defy gravity beneath her tight, low cut top. Too large for her petite frame, they were always an eye catching sight, and wonderful to play with.

"Very nice to meet you, Allie you a very bad and selfish girl that you never introduce your hockey stick friends to me," she chided jokingly. Her diction and pronunciation were imperfect, but she spoke in a charming song-like voice that made one forget her occasional lapses. I could tell Rick was interested, and Randy seemed smitten. When she went to the bathroom, he pulled me aside and asked "Ah, is she, you know, like you?"

"We have some things in common."

"Do you think she’d want to party with us?"

"I don’t know, we’ll see. What do you have in mind?"

"Let’s go catch some parties and get some beers, and see what happens. My mom’s not using her hotel room. We can party there all night."

I hate beer, but Tran was ecstatic to be included. "I like your friends, they’re cute. Are they sexy?"

"I think they want us all to do a scene together."

"I like that. You’re very sexy, and they are very sexy too. I want to be sexy with all of you."

My pride was a little hurt, and my security was a little threatened, but my menage a trois with Rick and Randy had become a little unstable. After our wild double fucking experiment, it was hard to chart a course that could top that, and bringing Tran into our scene offered new potential avenues. Then too, a foursome made a more socially presentable configuration to outsiders. And if I had to invite anyone into our little club, it would be Tran. I felt close to her as a friend, and she was the only T-Girl (except poor, dead Daylene) who turned me on as a lover. I was happy that she felt the same way about me.

"Girl friend, you’re the sexiest girl I know. Bring it on." Inside, I had mixed emotions, but I was outwardly enthusiastic. When I confided her interest to Rick and Randy, they let out whoops of joy.

They went out to buy some beer and snacks. "Don’t forget condoms," I reminded them, and gave them Tran’s address. We went over there to get ready. She had been dressing for years, had been living on her own since she had dropped out of high school three years before, the victim of merciless small town teasing and a hostile father. She was a regular at the Town House, and was one of the most popular T Girls there. "I getting sick of all the same tricks at Town House, sick of all the guys from the personals. I like your hockey sticks. Maybe I should go college, meet more college boys."

I surveyed the array of skimpy, sexy, fuck me dresses and tops, color-coded neatly in her closet. "I don’t know, Tran. You sure don’t dress like a college girl."

"Sure, but I can suck cock lot better than a college girl."

"Don’t be so sure, Tran. You can get Randy’s opinion later tonight. He’s an expert on getting blown by college girls." We both giggled at our naughtiness. When we T-girls talk to each other, we get raunchy: perhaps because we’ve sat on both sides of the aisle; or because we can abandon both our good girl pretenses and sex kitten act; or because we’re most at ease with one another. That night, as we dressed and made up, our talk ranged from X to XXX. Tran and I had popped a couple of my Desoxyn and she had poured some Grand Marnier. The drugs and booze combined to put me into a horny, edgy haze.

Tran had found one of her old pre-boob job party dresses for me, and its post boob job replacement for herself. It was a short, tight, black, spaghetti strap shift. It plunged at the neckline, and displayed my small, firm breasts demurely and appealingly. On Tran, the plunging neckline and her push up bra exposed her quivering breasts nearly to the aereole. As she curtsied playfully for me, her boobs swayed and strained against the tight rayon of her dress. "Tran, you should use less foundation and eyeliner, and soften up your hair. Try to look more like a college girl in a party dress, and less like a whore on the make. Pulled back, your hair is so severe: try clipping it in a half ponytail." Tran replied "What’s the matter with looking sexy? Don’t you like to be sexy? Don’t you want Rick in your slutty little ass."

"Actually, I want both of them to fuck my slutty little ass. Don’t you?"

She giggled excitedly and gave me a hug. Her warm breasts flattened against mine. She joked "I was all wrong about you. You’re a nice, generous T-Girl." She smiled and I kissed her.

"We just have to try to fit in with the college girl bitches at the these bashes we’re going to, not look like we’re trolling for tricks at the Town House."

"OK, you show me how, Miss College Girl. I showed you how to hook at the Town House, now you show me how to be college girl."

"Deal. You’re going to be the best looking coed on campus tonight. Well, maybe second."

I skipped the foundation , eyeliner and false eyelashes and used about a quarter of her usual mascara. I switched her shadow from metallic green to a light acqua. I’m no expert, but with a face as classically beautiful as Tran’s it was hard to go wrong. She was very happy with the results. "You make me look like a virgin."

"That’s the idea. Guys like it when you act like it’s a big deal getting fucked. Especially at the beginning, act like it’s killing you."

"They like moaning and crying?"

"Yeah, and don’t forget to beg them to go slow and how big they are."

"How big are they"

"Not bad. Randy’s about 8", not too thick, and Rick’s about 8 ½ and thicker. Big cockhead too. They fuck hard."

"I can’t wait."

"Make them wait. You look irresistible now, and I want to go dancing and party, not straight to bed."

Tran’s buzzer sounded. The intercom squawked "We’re ba-ack," and I interrupted Tran, saying "We’ll be right down." We bundled up and headed out into the chilly Minneapolis night.

Rick’s mother had driven in from Fargo to pick him up for Christmas break, and had rented a room at the Hyatt Regency, but was staying with her sister. Rick triumphantly announced he had her car and hotel key. I hopped in the front of his mom’s Cherokee, and snuggled up to Rick. "I’m freezing," I complained, and as we got under way Rick guided my hand to his open fly and I warmed my frozen fingers on his hot, hard cock. From the back seat, all I could hear was heavy breathing and sucking noises on the short ride to our party.

The Tri Delts, the most snobbish and wealthiest sorority on campus, hosted the Freshman Winter Sendoff. Rick and Randy, as emerging sports stars and good looking studs, had rated an invitation, but from the jealous stares we drew from the sorority sisters, they had not been expected to bring dates: especially not a couple of hot babes like me and Tran. After we had made our way to the bar and Rick and Randy had settled down with us at a corner table, two of the girls approached. One them sneered to Rick and Randy, "You two are so rude. Aren’t you going to introduce your friends?"

 

Rick stammered drunkenly, and I stood and said "I’m Alexandra Rivers, and this is my friend Teri New."

"I haven’t seen either of you before. Are you students? Only students are allowed at Tri Delt parties."

Yeah, and a lot more of a student than you, nosy bitch, I thought to myself. But instead I said "I’m a freshman, but I’ve been taking upper class English and Physics courses and an independent study. I only have one freshman class, and it’s so easy I never had to show up to get my A. So, I guess that’s a long way of explaining why you’ve never seen me around."

Rick nodded in enthusiastic agreement, but the sorority bitch said, "Oh, I’m sure! And who is this?" she demanded nastily, pointed to Tran.

"She’s my high school friend. She’s transferring here next semester."

She challenged Tran, "Is that so, where do you go now?"

"St. Olaf," Tran extemporized, giving the name of a small liberal arts college in her drab Minnesota home town.

"And to what do we owe the privilege of your coming here?" the bitchy sorority girl inquired.

"I transferring for the Greek scene here," Tran giggled.

Rick and Randy guffawed at this obscene double entendre, and Tran and I convulsed. Our hostess just glowered uncomprehendingly and stalked off.

Suddenly, a blues band cranked up and electrified sound split the air. Tran and I rose to our feet and Rick and Randy followed us to the dance floor. I’m a pretty good dancer: my mom made me go to Cotillion in LA, and naturally I learned both parts. Tran had spent most nights for the last three years boogying at the Town House or the Brass Rail. We dazzled the room with our well-practiced steps: our dresses billowing up, our pumps clacking staccato on the floor, our hair flying. Most of the sorority girls sat and stared enviously. The daring few who rose to challenge slouched off the floor after a few numbers, astounded at our repertoire and our amphetamine fueled stamina. Rick and Randy were panting and slathered with sweat when the band broke at the end of its first set. Tran and I both glistened with the evidence of our fanatical dancing.

As we walked out, I smiled pleasantly at our grumpy hostess and said "Thanks so much for having us. See you next year!" Like, as if she would even recognize me after my Christmas makeover.

Rick drove us to the Hyatt, and we went up separately to avoid attracting attention. Tran and I opened up the room. "Oh good, two beds," I said. Tran looked nonplused. "I thought we having a foursome."

"Tran, if Rick and Randy fucked us on one bed, they’d probably break a hole in the floor."

"Oh, goody."

We went into the bathroom to rinse off, freshen up, and smoke another joint. Outside, we heard Rick and Randy breaking into the mini bar and popping open more beer. "I hope they not too drunk for fucking," Tran said. Remembering my first night, I said "Not to worry, it brings out the best in them."

"You mean the beast in them?"

"Yeah, that too."

We emerged in fluffy Hyatt bathrobes: not the sexiest attire, but easy to take off. Rick had brought an XXX rated tape, which he popped into the machine. To my delight, it was a T-Girl tape, starring Stasha, a blond beauty who, like me and Tran, loved to get fucked. We watched only the beginning of her seduction by a muscular stud before Rick put my hand on his hardened cock and pulled open my robe and began to caress my breasts. "Do you wish my boobs were bigger, like Tran’s or the actress’s?" I whispered.

"That would be great, but you’re already great the way you are." As he smothered me with kisses, I heard the squeaking of Randy and Tran’s bed, and heard her begin to moan. Randy never favored much foreplay, and he was entering Tran. I couldn’t wait any longer. Before I could say anything, Rick either read my mind or his competitiveness was aroused, for he rolled over and grabbed a condom and lube from the nightstand. I ripped open the condom with my teeth, and smiled lovingly into his handsome, determined face, as his lubricant-covered finger gently tweaked and probed my eager, tingling ass. "Mmmm, that feels good," I said. "So does that," said Rick, as I stroked his condom clad cock with my lube covered fingers. Next door, Randy and Tran moans had risen to a crescendo, and their bed was shaking with the pulsing of their bodies in motion. "It sounds like they hit it off," I said wistfully. "Let’s show them how," Rick replied, as he mounted and expertly entered my horny, tight little ass.

I welcomed the initial burst of pain, for it quelled the tingling in my ass that had been nagging at me all night, and I let out a moan to answer the chorus coming from Tran. She was a loud and expressive submissive, crying out with each of Randy’s masterful lunges into her behind. She had told me that Asian asses were tighter, and I suppose she should know. I thrilled at the momentary flash of incendiary pain that surged through me, conscious that this could be one of my last fucks as a pre-op. Rick, seemingly sensing this angst, began fondling my cockette like an overgrown clit. I had been off estrogen for a week in anticipation of my surgery, but my orchiectomy prevented me from reaching the true penile orgasm. Still, it felt great, and my insides melted in welcoming Rick’s manhood. I loved to be possessed, and with Rick wrapped around and deep inside me, I was his. He fondled my breasts with one large hand, my soft, castrated cock in the other, and throbbed up my ass as he breath heavy, beery grunts into my ear. God, how I loved to get fucked. How could I be giving up any part of this?

I could hear Tran was reaching climax on the bed beside me. I glanced to my side and saw her lovely face contorted in a spasm of ecstasy, for a moment, her eyes met mine in a gaze of understanding and love that only two close friend and lovers, captured together in state of extremis, could share. Her eyes closed, as she descended into a state of bliss that only she could experience. Randy grimaced, jaw set, and went into overdrive as he pounded himself into her slender, lithesome body. She tossed her luxuriant black mane in a final spasm of pleasure, and I caught a final glimpse of her beautiful face as she reached orgasm.

In response, Rick re-doubled his assault on my own delicate frame, and as the fury built behind me, I responded with my own involuntary pulsing. Rick’s relentless fucking awakened my sleeping prostate, for a felt a barely familiar tingling inside which built in concert with the storm growing in Rick’s madly throbbing groin. As Rick’s cock surged mightily within me, I felt a thunderclap within rumble and I let out a cry of pain, pleasure and relief: then darkness descended over my consciousness much as Rick’s massive, muscular frame slumped on top of me.

I was unconscious for a few moments, before the lingering dose Desoxyn and the sensation of suffocation under Rick sleeping body roused me. I gently expelled his softened cock and slipped out from beneath Rick. "You awake?" Tran whispered.

"Yeah, I still need to breath, and I can’t sleep yet."

"Me too. I’m trapped. Help me move him."

Feeling Lilliputian, I helped Tran remove the snoring Randy from atop her. We covered them with the disheveled blankets and retired to the bathroom to clean up and compare notes. They were both stunningly powerful, athletic lovers. Tran counted Randy amongst her very best, and she was working from a much larger data base than mine. I agreed that Randy was fantastic, and I confided that if anything, Rick was even better. "I want to make up my mind for myself," Tran demanded. "In good time," I concurred.

The Hyatt had a deep, luxurious tub, and was well stocked with toiletries. We drew a steaming bubble bath, scented it with lilac bath crystals, and slipped in beneath suds. Tran’s lovely titties floated at the surface: I covered her with a demure film of bubbles, and then fondled them in the slippery suds. Tran’s immaculately black lacquered toe slid under my ass, and poked at my tired, happy hole. "Mmm", we said simultaneously, and then burst out laughing. "Tran, we are so bad."

"I never get enough," Tran said agreeably. "Do me the same way." I readily complied, and we lay together in the soapy waters, engaging in gentle, but kinky massage.

"I hope my new pussy is this sexy," Tran murmured sexily.

"If it’s not, we can always do it this way."

"Both ways," said Tran.

"At the same time," Tran agreed.

"With another cock in my mouth," I countered.

"And one in each hand."

"Sounds like a plan. Speaking of which, are you packed?"

"I’ll take care of it tomorrow."

"Tran, the limo is picking us up at 12:00 noon."

"Plenty of time for me to pack."

"Well, I suppose we’ll be spending most of the time in bed, one way or another."

"What time is it now?"

"About 1:30."

"Time to wake up our boys?"

"Let’s give them ten more minutes while we fix our make up."

"As if they’ll notice now."

"But we’ll know how good we look."

The door opened, and a bedraggled Rick staggered in, mumbling "I gotta take a leak." As his pissed splashed vigorously into the toilet, I gestured Tran toward Rick’s rumpled bed, and I crawled into Randy’s. He roused, and groped toward the bathroom just as Rick returned to his bed. I heard Tran’s coquettish giggle, and then the rustling of sheets and the sounds of heavy breathing and sucking. Randy saw what was going on as he emerged and hopped into bed next to me. I whispered "Ready for a midnight snack?" and he nodded "Mm, hmm." I slid down his brawny torso, kissing him along the way across his smooth, muscular shoulders, his rippling abs, his granite-hard abdomen to his cock, around which I circled my glossy, wet lips. I took him into my mouth to his pubes, which were redolent with the musky, sweet aroma of Tran’s ass-juices. I filled my nose with their rich pungence and hoped that Tran enjoyed inhaling my musk from Rick as much as I did hers. Randy swiftly hardened and filled my mouth and throat with his cock, and took control of my head and pistoned it on his thrusting shaft. I succumbed happily to his control. I easily deep throated his familiar cock, and as I did so I lifted my ass, offering myself to him. He began massaging my sore but still tingling hole, and stroking my empty scrotum and tiny, soft cockette. I took a breath and whispered "Use some lubricant, please." He grabbed it from the night stand and applied it to his finger, which slid easily inside me. I was sore, but still horny.

Wordlessly, I ripped open a condom and rolled it over his stiff cock. I sat astride him, and settled my ass onto its tip, and pressed down, so he entered me. I let out a moan, and heard it echoed from the bed beside me by Tran’s gasps of pleasure as Rick entered her. The mental picture of Rick’s massive cock-head stretching and entering her tiny brown hole filled me with such envy and lust that I impaled myself on Randy’s cock to the hilt, and thrilled at the jolt of pain that shot through me. I rose again until his cock nearly slipped out, and then dropped back down until his pubes banged against my buttocks and his long cock felt like it was poking my navel from within. He seized my waist and began repeating this motion: lifting me vertically and slamming me down on top of him, and his pelvis rose and fell in concert with me. I felt like I was riding a bucking bronco, with an oversized saddle horn penetrating my ass. My breasts swayed, my hair swirled and my body shook as Randy’s massive, powerful body took command and battered my insides with his rampaging manhood.

The second sodomy of an evening is very different from the first. The external ring is puckered and taut, but it yields more readily to the pressure of a well lubricated cock. In the interval, the sphincters will have been restored to their fortress function, but so long as muscle remembers the previous penetration, they open more readily and less painfully for the second cock, especially if it is slightly smaller than the first, as Randy’s was compared to Rick’s. In the long channel of colon deeper within, the mucosa will have been activated by the first fuck to and have become swollen and wet. Thus, deep inside the colon is actually is tighter for the second cock, and the experience is more sensual with the second cock than the first.

And so it was tonight, as it felt as if I was trying to resist Randy as he surged inward and retain him as he pulled out. I was soon sweating and sighing with the effort of receiving and containing his flailing member, and my voice joined with Tran’s sensual, exotic warblings of pain, exertion and bliss, to make a sexy chorus, backed by the bass line of Rick’s and Randy’s grunts and the slapping of the flesh of our tender asses against their sinewy thighs. I looked over and saw Tran too was atop Rick, and her breasts billowed and fell as the storm within Rick bobbed her like a vessel in a gale at sea. Our eyes met and we exchanged a satisfied, conspiratorial smile before refocusing on the rough fucking we were getting.

Randy tossed me from the saddle, rolled me on my stomach and mounted me like from behind like a bitch in heat. I let out yelps as his cock exited and reentered me from behind in powerful, and well aimed lunges. He grabbed my breasts in one and with the other fondled my cockette and stroked the smooth, flat skin of my empty scrotum. The full length of his cock slashed in, out and though me as he struggled to reach his second orgasm. Success came in a dozen bone crushing thrusts of his pelvis against my body that left me breathless, weak and quivering in his embrace, and left him sprawled unconscious atop me. As his cock softened and slipped out, I felt a warm glow rise from inside me and spread sleep through me. As the noise and fury of Randy’s assault subsided, I heard Rick’s attack on Tran’s willing ass reach its apogee, and hear his guttural cries and Tran’s song-like responses herald the coming of his orgasm. I fell asleep with the fading notes of that lovely melody in my ears.

I awoke to the insistent, incessant ring of the room phone. After what seemed like a hundred rings, I heard Rick answer. "Hi Mom. … What do you mean, we’re late. … You mean, you’re already here. Oh shit, I mean, nothing. Yeah, we’ll be right down."

He slammed the phone. "Fuck, Randy, wake up. My mom and yours are here for breakfast. We gotta get down to the restaurant." I looked at the time with alarm. It was 9:30. "Tran, we really picked the wrong day to oversleep. We have to wake up and get packed." She rolled out of bed and brushed her tangled mane from her sleepy eyes. "Says who? Where are you going?" Rick demanded. I didn’t want to spoil our surprise, so I improvised that we were just going to visit my mom in LA.

Rick and Randy were half dressed. I was pleased that they were breakfasting with their families with the nocturnal residues of Tran and me as their cologne. I sprang to the door and demanded hugs from them as they left. Tran did likewise, and it seemed like they each gave her an extra embrace, the better to squeeze her breasts as they bade her farewell. "Oh well," I thought. "I’ll soon be making up that deficiency."

Tran and I showered together and soothed each other’s tired bodies with warm, soapy massages. We primped ourselves one last time in the luxury of Rick’s mom’s suite, and left the hotel arm in arm. As we left, tottering wearing our high heels and sexy party dresses, we attracted condemnatory glares of the hotel staff, and looked back haughtily. If you only knew, my eyes proclaimed. I suppressed a desire to wave at Rick and Randy, as they animatedly talked with their moms, a couple of attractive but dull looking Mid-Western matrons.

As we left them, I felt mixed pang of loss and relief. Would I ever eat Christmas dinner with Rick’s family, or proudly pick up a child at a college campus? Would the destiny which chosen me had ever put me in a mini-van taking kids to soccer? My life would be lived in an alternative world, where I would live according to rules of my own making. It was a liberating but scary world. I was frightened, but free. And I would make the most of that freedom.

(continued)

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Alexandra Rios. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.