by Candy



Part 12 of my life in So. California

© 2011



No sex in over a year!


Ever since I lost my virginity at thirteen, I’ve enjoyed sex.  You’ve read about the movies and such, I’m sure, so I won’t re-tell that part of my story here.  This past year, my junior year in high school, has been way different.  I concentrated on school work and trying to be that normal teen girl.


I’ve kept in touch with Alan, but no one else from what I think of as my secret life.  I never see Jimmy around the beaches anymore, so I think he has moved away.  I’ll always keep Jimmy in a special place of my heart, remembering fondly that day on Redondo Beach I spied on him changing into his wet suit, and of course what came after.  Ed Ibanez on the other hand, knew better than to call me.  He’d used me enough even though I never begrudged what he paid me for being in his movies.  It’s my college fund, after all.


The feedback from my “Open Letter” was mostly sweet.  It was nice that people were sad I wasn’t going to concentrate on writing any more stories.  I did write one, “Aliya” which everyone seemed to like, but mostly I was too busy with school to write more.


Anyway, my secret life isn’t as secret any more, at least to my parents.  I knew I had to tell them sooner or later especially because of the money.  I dreaded the moment so much that when I told my Mom, it really wasn’t as bad as I imagined it would be.  Dad was more difficult (as I guess any father of an only daughter would be), but Mom helped me break the news to him.  Before I told him, we flew to Boston during spring break so I could visit colleges.  I think Harvard is beyond me but maybe I’ll apply to MIT.  More than likely though, I’ll go to a California school (Stanford is still my number one choice) but it was fun to travel back to Massachusetts where I used to live, and see relatives I don’t see much anymore.


Since I am an Excel wiz, hee-hee, when school finished for the year I got a summer job in an office that wasn’t too bad.  I had a hard time concentrating on my work though because I kept thinking about Alan.  He knew I always wanted to go to a nude beach, and he had told me about a beach on the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe that he’d been to.  We’d basically made a date for me to spend a week in that area with him in July.  My parents weren’t thrilled.  Neither one wanted to meet Alan regardless of how I felt about him.  Maybe someday they’d come around.


As I have for the past few years, I pondered the irony of my teenage life.  I knew how I could be with other people; I wasn’t the easiest person to be friends with, kind of stubborn, which I think I got from my mother.  I got two invitations to the prom, one from Jacob, who chases me around like a puppy dog, and another loser who’s a gang-banger wannabe, which I politely turned down.  And here I was, about to spend a week with one of the hunkiest men I knew.  Go figure.  I assured my mom that I was okay not going to the prom (“Maybe next year” I told her) though I had a dream one night I was at my prom dancing with Jimmy.  That dream made me sad when I woke up.


In late July that date with Alan became a reality.  My folks still didn’t want to meet him.  I don’t think they were ready so soon after me telling them, to meet a man almost twice their daughter’s age who was a porn actor and my lover.  I was so happy to see him drive up.  I jumped into his arms, wondering if my folks were watching out a window.  We kissed for the longest time. 


We eventually got to the 5, where he drove north.  I leaned back in the passenger seat, losing track of what road we were on but trusting his driving.  I didn’t want to stare, but I spent the time in silence looking at him.  I watched his taut arms handle the steering wheel with nonchalance.  Every once in a while he’d look over at me and smile.  Our silence was comfortable somehow, like we didn’t have to talk to be connected.  I wondered if that’s what being married would be like.  I hugged myself, enjoying the imagery.


A little while into the trip I asked him if he could play my iPod through his car system.  He said, “Not that shit you call music,” and we both laughed so hard he almost went off the road.  I really didn’t pay much attention since he was driving but at some point we were on I-80 and heading east.  The mountain scenery was very beautiful (I did pay attention to that).


We ended up at a place called Incline Village, that Alan explained was on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe.  We checked into the Hyatt Regency, which was an amazing hotel, much more than I expected.  I watched the desk clerk and bellhop intently, but no one seemed to react to our age differential after Alan registered us as Mr. and Mrs.


The room was beautiful!  He asked, “Shower first?” as I was shedding my clothes as fast as I could.


In the shower, I said, “Mr. and Mrs. huh?” as he began to soap me up.


“You like that, don’t you?”


“It sounds nice,” was my answer.  I washed his cock until it was as thick and hard as it could get.  He never got into the whole ‘how long is it’ bullshit that’s part of the porn machinery.  I knew he had to be at least nine or ten inches long.  He wasn’t as long as Ed Ibanez (who was?) but he was thicker and whatever he had it was more than enough for me.


We never made it out of the shower.  Alan put me up against the stall wall and with my legs wrapped around him he nailed me good.  With strong, muscular men like him, this was my favorite position.  Considering I hadn’t had sex in a year, I knew I’d cum fast, and with Alan filling me up I’d be even faster.  I squealed so loudly it was almost deafening in the enclosed space.  I never knew if he came or not, since my orgasm was so intense.  Besides, porn actors are often asked to ‘last’ without cumming, so if that’s what Alan did, I would accept it as natural thing for him to do.


We dressed up and he took me to a fancy restaurant here in the hotel.  When he complimented me on my dress, he smiled and said except for some of the silly porn costumes this was the first time he’d ever seen me in a real dress and heels.  “Makes those skinny legs of yours look fantastic,” he said with a smile that melted me.


The dress wasn’t much (I hardly ever wore one) but it was short, and besides Alan, I saw other men look at me as we walked through the lobby and restaurant.  Alan was so handsome in a suit-jacket.  “First time I’ve ever seen you with a tie,” I said.


“And maybe the last,” he replied.  I saw a shadow cross his face which made me wonder what he was thinking.  Could he have imagined the same as me?  Men wear ties with tuxedos, don’t they?  I wasn’t going to go there with him, at least not then.


We went to the casino afterwards and played the slots.  I thought it was kind of cool (especially playing with his money!) but he grew bored fast.  I saw that, and told him I was tired so we’d go back to the room.  He saw right through my ploy.  “You’re not tired.  How about we find ourselves a nightclub and do some dancing.”


I said, “I’m not that good at dancing.”


He leaned close and whispered to me, “Dancing is like sex with your clothes on, so I bet you’d be good at it.”


Yes, he made me blush.


One place wouldn’t let us in because I didn’t have ID, so we drove around Incline Village until we found a lounge that was playing music.  He didn’t have a drink because I couldn’t have one, so we both had Cokes and he taught me how to slow dance.  I let him sort of lead me around so it wasn’t much more than hugging him close, and I loved being in his arms.  I’d love to be in his arms forever.  Before we left, he kissed me right there on the small dance floor, while the few that were in there stared at us, probably wondering about the young, petite brunette dancing with the well-built, older man.


He bought a bottle of Champagne and we took it to our room.  We showered together but didn’t have sex.  Instead we drank and talked about what we’d do all week.  I admitted to him that the whole idea of being with him all week made me nervous, especially going to the nude beach.


“I guess I understand, Lin, even if we’ve slept together before and you’ve been naked a bunch of times in front of strangers.  This is different and I’m not downplaying it at all.  It feels different to me too.”


“It’s love, isn’t it?” I asked, looking up into his beautiful dark eyes.  “I feel something when I’m with you that I can’t explain, so it must be love.”  He didn’t say anything in response, he just held me tight.  Naked in his arms never felt more right, more perfect.


After a few moments, he said, “It must be the Champagne talking,” and then he chuckled.


I laughed along with him.  After all, he knew what Champagne did to me, but I knew that he was kidding me too.  I knew that he had difficult time saying the three magic words to me.  Where our relationship would go long-term had been the subject of many discussions over the past couple of years, and we both knew the improbability of a high school teen marrying an older porn actor, especially when the teen had dreams of college.  Especially when the man felt inadequate since he never went to college.  It hurt me that he felt that way but there wasn’t much I could really do about it.


I couldn’t really put words to what I was thinking, but I tried.  “No matter what becomes of us, I’m happier than at any time in my life to be with you right now.”


He carried me to the bed, and our lovemaking somehow transcended anything we had done before.  I didn’t think of positions.  I didn’t think of anything.  I just thought of Alan, the man, not the porn actor.  I’m such an easy cummer, especially if I’ve had some Champagne, but it seemed tonight all I did was orgasm.  I can’t describe what we did or how we did it.  The sex was a blur, indistinct, almost other-worldly, if that makes any sense whatsoever.  I kept on cumming and cumming and cumming, and there was no way I can view it with intellectual detachment, let alone describe it with mere words.  Everything was raw emotion, and I wondered if, being the first time I ever felt this way having sex, it would ever be as vivid again in my entire life.


In the morning, I awoke to a smiling Alan looking down at me.  “You look like an angel when you’re sleeping.”


“Does that mean I’m a devil the rest of the time?” I said as I stretched, and before pulling him down to me for a morning kiss.  This hadn’t been the first time I spent the night in bed with a man, but somehow it felt like a first time to me.


The day promised to be a scorcher, so it would be great swimming and sunbathing weather (as long as we used sunscreen, that is).  We had breakfast in one of the hotel’s restaurants before heading off to the nude beach.  We both wore bathing suits, and Alan joked that they wouldn’t be on for long.  We drove down a highway for a while until we turned off where a sign indicated we were going to Secret Harbor Creek Beach.


I had pictured the place to be secluded and I’d pictured correctly.  When we got to the beach I was overwhelmed by the sight of so many naked or mostly naked people.  Alan and I spread out a beach blanket.


“Well, you ready?” he said, smiling broadly.  Without another word down came his shorts.  I couldn’t explain my nervousness still, but I reluctantly let my top fall away before slipping out of my bikini bottoms.  Alan gave me a hug before saying, “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”


I finally was fulfilling one of my fantasies—visiting a nude beach—and now I didn’t know what to do.  We sat around on our blanket and watched the crowd, which grew by the minute.  There were people of all ages, including a few couples with small kids.  One thing I didn’t see was another teenager.  Alan pointed out three women who were walking along the lake’s edge.  To say that they were well endowed in the breast area would have been an understatement.


“Maybe I should go over there and say hi,” he said teasingly.


“And maybe they’re in the same business you are by the looks of them,” I answered with my best pout, but he wasn’t buying it, so we both ended up laughing.  He took me by the hand and we walked toward the water.


What mixed feelings I had.  I’d envisioned something like this, but not to this extent.  Every woman on the beach, no matter if old or young wanted to talk to Alan, to be close to him, really.  All my emotions were laid bare like my body.  I was extremely proud to be with him.  I was extremely jealous of the easy manner with which he returned their attention.  I felt so insecure when a large breasted woman spoke to us, knowing that I couldn’t compare in that department.  I understood it all, but that didn’t mean it didn’t bother me.  I had to detach my feelings and look at him with cold logic.  He was dark, handsome, beautiful even, and with the largest penis on the beach, no wonder the women flocked to him.


Maybe to mock them, or tease them in some way, when we were wading in the water (I was about mid-thigh deep) he lifted me in his arms like a baby and kissed me hard.  God bless him, like he was showing everyone he was mine.  The tongue duel went on for a long time before he gently lowered me back to the lake.  The two closest women to us were staring wide-eyed at Alan, and when I too looked, the reason was obvious.  While kissing me grew semi-stiff.  His cock was even more impressive when erect—didn’t I know it!  From that moment on, we (okay, more Alan than me) were the most popular couple on the beach.  Everyone talked to us, probing for details of who we were, where we were from, etc.  In roundabout ways people wanted to know about our obvious age difference.  We lied a lot.


One good-looking young couple openly wanted to know if we’d swap.  Alan politely declined.  Later, he whispered to me, “…Unless you wanted to…”


I told him I’d never swap him for anybody.


As the day progressed, I became very comfortable being naked.  It felt as good as I fantasized it would be.  Being with Alan, sneaking glances at his magnificent body every so often, and teasing him while applying sunscreen made this nude beach seem like paradise on Earth.  Alan asked me once how I felt, leaning close and saying, “You’re arousal is obvious, little girl.  Those puffies of yours must be tingling they’re so stiff.  You’ve got that glow about you I know so well, and I bet you’re as wet as can be.”


“I wish we were alone so you could check out your hypothesis,” I said in a hoarse whisper.


“My ‘hypothesis’ huh?”  He gave his cock a surreptitious shake.  “I know how to test that hypothesis when we get back to the hotel.”


I swooned.  He was right; I was so horny I could feel the moisture leaking down the crack of my ass as we sat on the beach blanket.  I didn’t want to wait until we got back to the hotel.  I wanted him to take me right there on the beach.


He saw my arousal.  He said, “You’re the most amazing woman I ever met, you know that?  I don’t care about your age; you’re more comfortable in your own skin than most women ever hope to be.  You’re so damned attuned to your own sexuality…” he chuckled, “ …maybe that’s why you have hair-trigger orgasms, and were so good in front of the camera.”


I laughed with him, but I doubted I was as “comfortable” in my body as he believed me to be.  I immediately thought no way!  But then I thought about how I had sex with older men, while being filmed no less, and how it seemed so natural to walk around naked between scenes.  And here I was, a seventeen year old, on a nude beach with the man I loved.  I was very proud to be here with him.  I didn’t really feel as jealous as I thought I might be with all the women ogling.  Maybe that’s what he meant by ‘comfortable.’


Of course he knew what I wanted.  He also knew how we were being looked at by others.  He whispered, “Should we make another pass along the beach so everyone can be jealous of us?”  We walked along the water’s edge once more, stopping to chat with folks, all the while with Alan’s arm around my waist.  We were asked more questions about where we were from, how we met, etc.  When asked where we worked, Alan deflected them since neither one of us could really be truthful on that front.


One woman of about forty was brazen in her approach to Alan.  With a man who I assumed to be her husband standing right next to her, she wanted to know where we were staying, and whether Alan and I wanted to party later.  Obviously, I knew what she meant by ‘party.’  Alan was noncommittal, but like before he put his arm around me and made a humorous comment that his ‘party’ was me.


We soon left the beach, knowing we still had other days to bask in the sun.  We rode around the lake roads, some better and more travelled than others.  We reminisced about the movies we made two years ago out in the desert near Barstow.  Then we talked about the first time we met, when I made the Cleopatra movie for Ed Ibanez at the house on Catalina in Redondo Beach.  As he’d done before, he admitted how much he lusted after me that first time, but also that I scared him, not simply because of my age.  He said that he saw right away that I wasn’t like girls my age, and that he knew being with me would “mess him up” during scenes.  What he meant by that was that he would lose control, as he did when he came too quickly during filming and they missed the “money shot” as Jake called it.


During our silences, as I often do I reflected on how I got to this place in time.  Who would have predicted that my curiosity about boys, a curiosity all girls have, would lead me to spying on the surfers that fateful day on the beach when I was thirteen?  Who could have predicted that I’d see Jimmy changing that day, and that later I‘d have sex for the very first time?   Who could have predicted that my best friend’s father would be a porn actor and producer and that he’d want me to be in movies?  Who could have predicted that I’d make the movies I did at my age, and have great sex with so many hunks in the process?  Who could have predicted that I’d learn so much and meet so many interesting people, like Glory, who in their own way made me who I am?  Who could have predicted I would fall in love with a porn actor twice my age?  I glanced over at Alan as he drove.  He sensed I was looking at him and looked back, smiling.  Yes, it was love.  I felt it deep inside me.  I was in love with him.


I guess love explains why I wanted him to pull over and fuck me right there on Highway 29.  He said, “Why are you looking at me like that?  What’s going on in that head of yours?”


“Oh nothing,” I answered, but then admitted how much I wanted to go back to the hotel and make love.


“Let’s have an early dinner first,” he said, even though he also chose that moment to reach over and cup a breast.


We headed back toward Incline Village and stopped at a cool Mexican restaurant called Hacienda De La Sierra.  Alan knew how much I liked Mexican food so it was another good feeling to know he was thinking of me in more ways than sex.  I kind of laughed to myself, contemplating that he would fill my belly before filling my vagina.  As with every place around here, the restaurant had magnificent views.  We had a big pile of Nachos Supreme, I had a “Gringo Verde” burrito, and Alan had a combo special of a taco and enchiladas.  He also ordered a humongous margarita, and when no one was looking he moved the straw toward me and I snuck sips.  He made funny faces as he ate, sort of rolling his eyes like it was the greatest meal he ever had, and when I giggled and he saw me looking, he exaggerated the faces which got me giggling even more.  Later, my giggles were probably fueled more by the surreptitiously imbibed margarita.


“I still don’t know how someone so small can eat so much,” he said to me after he paid the check.


Before I could answer, I burped, and that got us both laughing like lunatics as we left the restaurant, much to the consternation of the hostess at the door.


Alan leaned close to me and whispered, “I bet she counts ceiling tiles while she’s being fucked,” meaning the dour faced hostess, who couldn’t be more than 30.  We didn’t stop laughing until we were almost to the hotel.


We showered, and of course didn’t get out until we’d fucked, my legs around his waist and my back against the stall wall.  After we dried off, I went into his arms and said, “I love you.  I know that’s what it is.”  He wanted to say something but I didn’t let him.  I continued, “It’s ultimately not my decision to make, but I’ll be yours forever, if you want me that is.”  I was so emotional I wasn’t sure exactly what I had said, but that was close to it.


We curled up on the bed and he tried to let me know how he felt.  In many ways Alan is still a big kid.  Maybe being in the amusement park-like make-believe world that was porn, he had difficulty expressing his true feelings, as maybe we all stumble once in a while I guess.  He knew what I meant before about decisions.  He explained that outside of the porn movie business, he didn’t have a skill and he wondered how his “second life” would be lived.  I may be a kid, but I understood what he really meant: how could he be a breadwinner in a few years, no matter who he was in a relationship with.  I think he was in some way explaining in his boyish roundabout way that he felt not worthy of me, which was the silliest thing.  I didn’t care about stuff like that and I figured I never would.  One thing Alan would never be was a deadbeat, so after his porn days were over I knew he’d find a profession he’d like.


Finally he said what he meant by all of his rambling.  “I love you, Linda.  Like you said to me a few times, it’s hard to know what love really is, but I think now I know.  I need you, and think of you every waking moment of my life.  When I’m in a scene, no matter who the girl is, I’m thinking she’s you…”


I interjected, "Do you lose control sometimes if you fantasize it’s me?”


He chuckled, “Yeah, sometimes, and it really pisses off the director.”


We laughed and hugged and kissed.  That’s when he proposed to me.  Sort of.  He didn’t give me a ring or anything, but he started talking about marriage.  I really didn’t have to think it over.  I told him that I would marry him, but not until after my first year in college was over.  He’d have to wait for two years, I said to him, but what I didn’t say, and what I hoped he understood, was that the time would allow us to be sure of everything while allowing me to get my feet planted in school.  He promised me a huge diamond but not until next year.  He joked about me “being legal” and that he couldn’t see me walking the school corridors wearing a big diamond ring.  He was right, that would be a silly picture.  What came up later in our intimate conversation was if I’d marry him if he was still making porn.  I told him that’s how I met him; I knew he was making porn with other women now, and questioned why the near future would make a difference.  Even as I said it, I wondered if I really could contain any jealousy.  I admitted something to him that I had a hard time admitting to myself.  I told him that I still had a desire to make porn again, to be wild in front of that camera, to experience that thrill of being watched.  I guess I missed that feeling more than I thought, even if I’d never do it again.  “Maybe that’s why I’ve written about everything,” I told him.  “To relive the thrill.”


He smiled and said, “Let’s pretend.”


To the invisible video camera, we fucked, shifting positions occasionally until I had my ass in the air and my head buried in a pillow, squealing with orgasmic delight.  And just like in the movies, he pulled out and gave my ass cheeks a good coating; the proverbial money shot, though no director would applaud or yell “Cut!”


Like finger paints, I daubed his cum all over me.


“I can make a mess, can’t I?” he said.


“You can make a mess like that on me anytime,” I answered.


I slept very well that night, the second night of my “honeymoon.”


We relived the first day by going back to the nude beach after we had breakfast.  Some of the same people showed up, but of course some new ones as well.  Alan and I got naked and went into the water, which wasn’t as warm as it would be later in the day.  I splashed him and then he grabbed me, picked me up high, and sort of spun around.  I wrapped my legs around his waist and said to him, “I wish we could make love like this, right here, right now.”


He kissed me and then said “Me too, but even though we’re naked, no sex on the beach.”


“I bet you’re hard though.”


He was.  When he set me down, I saw his erection, and so didn’t the rest of the sunbathers.  I knew it would be like that, but when a man on a nude beach gets many more looks than all the women, then that says something.  It says that I’m the luckiest girl alive!  Mostly because of the nature of his work, Alan was a comfortable exhibitionist.  His attitude was If I have an erection, so be it, let everyone look.  He didn’t try to hide it.  You know, I didn’t really mind either.  After all, I would be the one to experience what the others could only dream about.


We were invited to “parties” which I was sure were excuses to get us somewhere to swap, or at least to separate us.  Like with yesterday’s couples, we politely declined.  When we were alone, Alan said in a low voice, “See, all those men want you.”


I said to him, “Bullshit, it’s the women who want YOU.  I’m like in a baseball trade, you know, the player to be named later.”


“Naw, you’re much more than that, my little sweetheart.”  Even if I couldn’t jump him right then and there, at least kissing was acceptable on the beach.


After two days of judiciously sunscreened sunbathing, I was getting a good all-over tan.  Obviously, I never had a no-tanline tan this good before, and I was thinking about how I could show it off to friends back home.  Of course that would mean telling all my secrets, like Alan.  These last two days have convinced me how much of an exhibitionist I was.  I loved being looked at, though I wasn’t being looked at here on the Tahoe beach as much as I’d been at the porn shoots.  That told me something—despite my petiteness I didn’t look like a little girl anymore.  Otherwise, as I figured out, everyone would have ogled me and questioned Alan and me being together.  That was the part of our relationship I let slip my mind.  As far as I knew, I still wasn’t ‘legal’ in California, so Alan still risked everything to be with me, and I couldn’t forget that.


The rest of the week was spent about the same way.  Either we went to the nude beach or we hung by the hotel pool, then went back to our room and fucked before having a big dinner.  He took me sightseeing, and I think we exhausted every amenity the hotel had, including sailing out on the lake on a huge catamaran.  By week’s end the nude beach had lost some of its allure, and I was content to keep my bikini on and hang out with Alan at the pool and the hotel’s own lakefront.  Two things would never lose their allure—sex with Alan and all the great meals.  We did Mexican again and after gorging myself at the restaurant, later that night Alan said my pussy tasted like guacamole!


“That’s gross!” I shouted, but after that I screamed even louder (wink)!


It was going to be very difficult not seeing him for a while after I got home.  This week has been the best of my life, yet I know that both of us had to get back to our regular routines, apart from each other.  He had to travel to northern California for a series of video shoots, and I had a few more weeks of summer work before I began my senior year at RUHS.


The morning before we checked out, we made love for a long time.  I can’t describe the position since we were wrapped together, sometimes him on top and sometimes me.  He gave me so many orgasms I didn’t bother counting.  I knew that men sometimes can’t go long, but Alan’s work in porn helped him do that.  His stamina was my heaven.  I never wanted it to end, though it had to sometime.


We were quite quiet on the long drive home.   As I was, he was probably wondering about the future while savoring this past week.  After the beauty of the lake and the mountains, the bustle of civilization that was Southern California was jarring.


When we got close to the beaches, I asked him to come inside and meet my parents.  He didn’t like my invitation.  “They don’t want to talk to me, I know,” he said.


“Just the other day we talked about getting married.  Why not get the hardest part over with right now?  Meet them.  Let them know you’re a regular guy and not some creepy pervert or something.”


“It won’t be pretty,” he said.


It wasn’t.


I nearly dragged him into the house.  My folks weren’t hostile but you could still feel the heat.  I thought Alan did a wonderful job of explaining how much he loved me and that he would never hurt me.  We didn’t spring the proposal on them—that would have been too much for them to take all at once.  My dad (as dad’s are supposed to do) was clear in reminding Alan about my age, and how important college was to me, as if I hadn’t been telling him the same thing.  All in all, the only thing we did was break the ice, though it would take quite a bit more to melt that ice completely.


My mom was weird though.  I expected more arguments from her than we got.  It wasn’t until later that I figured out why—she had been aroused by Alan!  I bet she creamed her panties looking at him and imagining what he looked like under his clothes.  The idea should have creeped me out, but it didn’t.  My mom had always been open with me about sex, so I knew she still liked it.  I bet she’d have some interesting dreams for a while.  I knew we’d talk about Alan and love soon, since she is that kind of mom.


Out by his car, we kissed long and hard.  I wanted him to fuck me one more time before he left, and he knew that’s what I was thinking.  When our lips parted, he said, “I won’t let so much time go by again.  I’ll see you soon, Candy doll.”


Would I actually be able to concentrate in school, waiting until the next time we made love?


If you liked this, e-mail me at and let me know what you think of my writing.  You’ve read the other parts of my story, haven’t you?  This is Part 12.  You can find the previous parts at the Cotton Candy web site

Thank you,