My First Time

 Trouble in Paradise before I take revenge.

Based on a post by Senor Longo. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

 THE FREAK; Part 3 of 5

“What happened to your face, Jack?”

“You did,” I replied with a little chuckle.

“Oh, no! Did I pee on you? I’m so sorry.”

“No; no; it’s not urine. Did you have seven orgasms?”

“I don’t know. I kind of lost track. I don’t know what you did to me, but it was incredible. I came quickly and then I kept on cumming and cumming. I didn’t think it was ever going to stop.”

“Well, every time you came I got flooded. I don’t know what it was, but I’m glad I was able to do it for you.”

She moved up a bit to look me straight in my eyes. “Me, too,” she whispered just before pressing those sweet plump lips into mine once again. I checked out the dashboard clock and pointed at it; 3:26, time to head on home.

Everyone was asleep when we walked through the back door. We turned left so Barbara could take a quick shower. She had left her night gown and robe here in anticipation. I closed the bathroom door and began to turn the couch into my bed when I felt a hand on my arm. Barbara was standing there naked. Damn, but she was a beautiful woman. “Come and join me,” she whispered.

I laughed. “Funny! You have got to be kidding. There is no way that two of us will fit in there. It’s all I can do on my own. Thanks for the offer, though; maybe someday, but not tonight.” I gave her a quick kiss and she returned to the bathroom, a pout on her face. Ten minutes later she came out, kissed me quickly and walked to the living room. I followed so I could turn the stairway lights on for her and off once she was safely upstairs. I showered quickly, mostly to wash my groin and my face, knowing what my parents would think if they saw me covered with Barbara’s juice. It was almost four by the time I crawled under the covers.

We slept in New Year’s Day and I would have stayed in bed after 10:00 had I not been invaded by an eight year-old monster named Carole. “C’mon, J.J., get up so we can play.” Did I mention that she was jumping on my chest at the time?

“What time did you go to bed last night?”

“Mom and Dad let me stay up until 10:00.”

“That’s great! I stayed up until four. Let me see; ten is bigger than four so you must have been up later than me.”

She responded with a scowl. “Even I know that’s not true. You need to get up. Barbara’s already up and dressed. C’mon!”

“Ugh! It’s a good thing that I love you.” I growled and Carole scampered away screaming down the hallway. Thank God I wasn’t a drinker. J didn’t know how I could handle a hangover considering how tired I was. I struggled out of bed to shave, run a comb through my generally unruly short hair, and brush my teeth, dressing in a Harvard sweatshirt, jeans, and slippers. Then I made my bed, turning it back into a couch before yawning my way to the kitchen.

Barbara was there getting a cup of coffee. I wrapped my arm around her waist and she moved up for a quick kiss. That was accompanied by a giggle from the breakfast nook. Knowing that Carole was watching, I moved in for a real kiss. Mom and Dad already knew of my intentions even if Barbara didn’t so I wasn’t worried that they’d say anything. Of course, the giggling was non-stop through the entire kiss. I broke it and jumped into the nook, grabbing Carole and swinging her around while I hugged and kissed her. Her giggling turned to loud laughter which stopped only when Dad complained of an after New Year’s headache. I felt real sympathy, knowing how I felt without one.

Barbara and I had only a light breakfast of pastries and doughnuts from the bakery. I broiled hot dogs for lunch then we retired to the living room for the traditional football games. Barbara sat on the couch where she had been on Christmas and I sat on the floor at her feet. She rubbed my neck and ran her fingers through my hair for most of the afternoon. Around three she moved to the kitchen to help Mom with the dinner. Carole and I helped by setting the table.

We ate dinner as one big and happy family before I walked outside with Barbara to drive her home. Tomorrow was Sunday so I’d see her early for Mass, knowing that we’d spend the entire day and much of the night together. Somehow, my need for seven days of basketball a week had ebbed, replaced by a greater need; a need to love and be loved and to be with that one special person. I let Barbara take the Olds home with her Sunday night so we could spend time together after Tuesday’s game.

January and February are the months when the basketball season kicks into high gear. Every game is a league game and every game counts toward that elusive league championship. Well, it was elusive if you played at a school other than ours over the past four years. There was pressure though; the pressure of being ranked number one; the pressure of having a target on your back every time you stepped onto the court. Despite the pressure we ran the table, winning every game by a wide margin.

I had expected to play against every junk defense in the book; box and one, triangle and two, and every variant that was ever devised. There were two big problems with this approach. The first was that I never cared how many points I scored; doubling me had to leave someone else open and my teammates were all very good players in their own right. Doubling me led to more open layups for them than I could count. The other problem was that the smaller guards couldn’t leap with me and the bigger layers were just too slow. You’re not supposed to be able to drive through a zone, but I drove for layup after layup most games. When I couldn’t score I gladly passed to a cutting teammate. Could I make All-American playing this way? Who cared? All that mattered was that we won.

There are four classes of schools in New York; A, B, C, and D; based on school enrollment. Tuckahoe was in Class D. Our success over the past four years meant that we could go anywhere we wanted to in the tourney to play against any class of opponent. Some of us wanted to go into Class A. Most of our opponents had been in Class B or higher, but I argued for us to stay in Class D. “Let the bigger schools beat each other up. Guys will get hurt. Guys will get tired. We’ll meet the best in the inter-class finals just as we have in the past.”

That was what we did and, sure enough, New Rochelle faltered in the A semis and so did Mount Vernon, another highly ranked school from our area. One of the lesser schools won the A competition and the same thing happened in the Class B finals. We blew the Class C champs out of the gym and the following night we whipped the A Champs. They were exhausted from their game against the B winners. Our starters had only played about half of our game the previous night. I won the center jump, one of the few that were actually contested and scored on our much practiced opening play, rubbing my man off on Eli’s strong broad body for a crashing dunk. We pressed full court and ran at every opportunity. For all purposes, the game was over at the half when we had built a twenty point lead. Instead of relaxing we shifted into overdrive and, once again, the basket looked to be as big as the ocean. I couldn’t and didn’t miss and neither did my teammates. We had our fifth consecutive state championship. Three of us made the all-tournament team; three out of ten. Our win streak was at 129 when the season ended.

Best of all; Barbara was there with me every step of the way, even staying overnight in a room with my sisters during the two finals weekends. She was one of many who stormed the court first when we won the Class D State Championship and, finally, when we won the whole shebang. She was the only one of that horde, however, to greet me with a searing kiss.

It was the last week in March and I had just driven to our favorite parking place after an early night of bowling. Soon the outdoor movies would open and we could look forward to an entire night of making out. So far Barbara and I had done everything sexually other than fucking. I loved her enough that I wasn’t going to push it. We were sitting together holding each other knowing that we had plenty of time for sexual activities later. Barbara broke our kiss and looked up at me, her pleading voice just above a whisper. “Jack, what’s going to happen to us once we graduate?”

“I think we’re going to stay together. We will if I have anything to say about it.”

“But how? You’re going to Harvard and I’m staying here to attend St. Elizabeth Seton. We won’t see each other for months.”

“No; you need to come to Massachusetts with me.”

“How can I do that? Where would I live?”

I could see that Barbara was almost in tears and I would never want that. I leaned down to kiss her then opened my door to get out. “Do me a favor and scoot over here a bit. Please?” I gave her a quick peck and got out, walking around the back of the car and getting back in on the passenger side. My right knee was on the car floor and my left foot was on the asphalt as I reached into the glove box to get a plain brown paper lunch bag. Mom had hundreds of them for Carole and even Marie on occasion.

Taking her hands in mine I began to speak. “Barbara, you know that I dated quite a few girls before you, but I’ve never once told a girl that I loved her, not until this very second. Barbara, I think I fell in love with you even before I caught you in front of St. Catharine’s. I am so totally in love with you that it’s scary. I told you about the flash where I saw you fall, but I never told you about the other flash that day nor about the hundreds I’ve had since then; flashes about our love and life with each other.”

I could see her start to understand and she smiled broadly as I continued. “Barbara, I hate being away from you for even a single night now so I can’t imagine what being away from you for months would be like. Actually, I can; it would be the closest thing to hell for me. What I’m doing here in case you haven’t figured it out yet is asking you to marry me. I promise that I will love and cherish and protect you forever, maybe even longer.”

I reached into the bag to retrieve the small blue velvet box from Harry Winston. Barbara hadn’t said a word, but she did push her finger out to me. There were tears in her eyes as I slipped the ring onto her finger. Once it was on she pulled me to her for the hottest kiss of my life. Then she whispered in my ear. “Jack. I have loved you for so long; as long as I’ve known you. I want more than anything to make love with you. I’ve wanted that for quite a while, too. I want to feel you inside me. I only wish I could feel you spurt into my womb, but that will have to wait; for a while, anyway. Can we get into the back seat?”

After a tight hug and a tender kiss I replied, “I think you deserve a real bed for our first time. You want to drive?”

“No, I want to cuddle up next to you and look at my ring. Was it expensive? I’ll bet it was!” She leaned forward again to kiss me then shooed me out the door. I drove us to Nepperhan Avenue, one of the main drags in Yonkers where I had seen some old fashioned motels; the kind that are a bunch of individual small cabins; on our way to an away game. We were there in less than thirty minutes. I handed Barbara a pocketful of change, telling her, “Why don’t you phone Mrs. Gleason and tell her you’ll be late. Be sure you tell her why; the engagement why not the making love why.” Barbara laughed then hugged and kissed me before slipping into the phone booth. (Remember! This was 1961 when such things were commonplace.) I walked into the motel office to register.

“I’d like to rent a room, please.”

He looked me over closely before responding. “Are you actually old enough?”

“My attorney tells me that one must be eighteen to legally sign a contract so the answer is ‘yes.’ I have my passport in my pocket if you like.” He responded by holding his hand out and I passed it to him. He spent more than a minute checking the photo and my date of birth before returning it to me.

“I suppose the woman outside is your wife.”

“Not yet, but we just became engaged tonight. She wants to make love and I thought her first time should be in a real bed as opposed to my back seat.”

“First time? Yes, I guess I can see why you’d like that to be special. Fifteen bucks and I don’t expect to have any trouble.”

“There won’t be any. I have too much to lose; a full ride to Harvard being at the top of the list.”

“Wow,” he said as he made change and passed me the key to number seven. “You’re a big kid. Ever play any kind of ball?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah; a five year starter in basketball and baseball and a four-year starter in football.”

“I recognize you now. Tuckahoe, right?” I nodded. He laughed as he said, “Nobody is happier than I am that you’re graduating. My son played JV basketball and will be a junior at Gorton next year.”

My smile vanished. “Too bad about Jimmy Albin.” He nodded. Jimmy’s situation was sad. He’d been found dead just after the end of the season, a hypodermic needle jutting from his arm. All of my teammates and I attended his wake and funeral. Barbara was there, too, never leaving my side. I put my smile back on my face as I walked out, but there was no fooling my love.

“What’s wrong, Jack?”

“Nothing really; his son played JV at Gorton. He knew Jimmy.”

She reached up to stroke my cheek. “You tried to warn him, Jack. He didn’t listen. A lot of kids think they know everything. Oh; Mrs. Gleason is thrilled. She didn’t seem to be too surprised.” She took my hand and we walked together to our room. She showed me a handful of condoms from the glove box.

“You trying to kill me before we’re even married?”

‘No, but I like to be prepared.” I smiled; prepared is good. I opened the door and turned on the light. I expected the room to be worn and it was, but it appeared to be clean although it was cold. I found the heater and adjusted the control. I was pleased when the machine responded immediately.

Now that we were here we were both nervous and hesitant. Eventually, we started to giggle and that developed into full laughter. We came together for a long kiss. “Don’t you think you should undress me now,” Barbara whispered. I kissed her again, moving my hands to her tiny buttons while she began to work on mine. My hands are big and powerful, but they weren’t made for this kind of work. She had me practically naked by the time I had half of her buttons opened.

“Here, silly, let me help you.” She pulled the blouse up and over her head, turning around so I could handle her bra. I leaned forward to nuzzle her neck and cup her beautiful breasts in my hands. Barbara reached behind her to lower my slacks and my briefs. Luckily I had worn my loafers so I was able to step out of my shoes. I placed all of the clothes on a chair while Barbara lowered the blanket and sheet. “I think I need to practice some sexy poses for you; something that will help you get turned on.”

“You haven’t needed anything so far. Just one glance at your beautiful face and your incredible body and look at me.” I looked down at my cock which stood at attention, as hard as granite and already leaking pre-cum. I kneeled on the bed and lay next to my goddess to caress and experience her fantastic body from head to toe; her soft smooth skin, her glimmering hair, her perfect conical breasts topped with sensitive and responsive nipples and areolas. I kissed each of those nipples, licking and suckling like an infant. My hand rubbed her labia until she was panting and squirming with desire.

“It’s time, darling. Make love to me. I want it. Damn, I need it.” She pulled a condom from the night table and with practiced precision unrolled it down my shaft as I moved between her legs.

“I know it’s going to hurt at first. Am I going to bleed?” I hesitated a second then jumped up to the bathroom, returning with a thin bath towel. Barbara raised her hips to accommodate me then spread her legs wide. I rubbed myself up and down her slit several times before gently pushing home. I was going slowly for two reasons. First, Barbara was a virgin, unused to having anything anywhere near as thick as my cock in her tunnel. Second, I didn’t want her to hurt any more than necessary. Apparently, she had other ideas as she thrust her hips upward several inches, ripping her hymen in a flash.

She cried out, several tears streaming from her face, but when I looked at her all I could see was her love. I kissed those tears away as Barbara began to smile. She relaxed as I pushed further into her. We began a rhythm, moving together; slowly at first;  Barbara’s legs wrapped tightly around my waist. “Oh, Jack!” She was moaning continuously now. I raised my body up onto my elbows so I could worry her sensitive nipples with my fingers. I could tell from her movements that she was rubbing her clit; her big hard clit loaded with sensitive nerve endings; into my pubic bone.

She was working as hard as I was, driving her hips into me with every thrust. Her face was a mask of love and lust. Her love for me was evident, but just as obvious was her lust; her desire and need to fuck and be fucked; to cum and cum hard.

Our pace increased until we were fucking like animals then; suddenly and without warning; she froze, grabbed me by the hair and pulled me down for a kiss that showed her passion and her love and her lust. Then, just as suddenly, she lost it. Her body shook in three or four directions at once as her powerful orgasm claimed reign over her body. Even my weight wasn’t enough to keep her in the center of the bed. She was just coming down when my orgasm hit. She knew by now what to expect. Six straight times my hips drove forward, a fountain of semen erupting from my hard hot tool. I tried to move off her, but she would hear nothing of it. “Please, Jack; stay where you are. I love having you in me.”

“There’s nothing I’d like more, but, if I do, there’s a good chance that the condom will leak. That would never do.” I kissed her again, a relatively chaste one, and slid off to her side, the condom, loaded with my seed, dangling from my shrinking cock. I trotted to the bathroom to flush it away and wash my organ thoroughly. I knew that Barbara wanted to play and the last thing we needed was for some stray sperm to find its way into the wrong place.

Barbara was grinning like the Cheshire cat when I returned. I lay next to her, kissing her cheek and hair and rubbing her back and ass. “Why the silly grin,” I asked.

“I was just remembering something you said. Remember when you told me that making love was the most fun thing you ever did? I agree completely. It really was the best thing I’ve ever done. Can we do it again?”

“We can, but we’ll need to rest and wait a bit. Men aren’t built like women.” She began to laugh and I joined her. “That’s not what I meant. Women can make love time after time as long as their vaginas are lubricated, but a man has to recover. I think it’s called refractory period. I should be okay to go again in about thirty or forty minutes. Then if you want to do it again it’ll take me a bit longer.”

She “pouted” until she smiled, calling me a spoil sport. I just shrugged my shoulders as I pulled her to me again. We talked about our plans. I wanted us to marry as soon as possible. I also wanted Barbara to accompany me to Cambridge the week after Easter so we could look to rent an apartment or house. I thought that she could apply to local universities for admission in January. She had good grades and there were plenty of universities in the Boston area so I was sure she would be successful. I’d rent two motel rooms for appearance sake, but after tonight there would be no reason to use both. If we could marry at the end of the school year we could move to Massachusetts the following week.

Barbara had been playing with my cock, something she had done often; almost every night we spent down past the apartments and, sure enough, thirty-five minutes later she rolled another condom down my shaft. “Why don’t you take the top this time? I think you’ll like it, maybe even better. You’ll have complete freedom of movement and I’ll be able to play with these babies.” I was already massaging her gorgeous breasts.

“It could be better?” Her tone was incredulous, but she climbed over me to straddle my hips. I took my cock and helped her to line up her cunny with my organ. She had her eyes closed, her face showing total contentment as I stretched her vaginal walls. She began a rocking motion, rubbing her clit into my muscular abdomen. She leaned down for a quick, but hot kiss as I rubbed her breasts and rolled her hard wrinkled nipples with my hands.
Barbara’s clit was big; much bigger than average. When swollen as it was now it was easy to rub it into me. Roughly half protruded from its hood. Barbara obviously enjoyed the freedom this position gave her. I knew that I loved seeing her physically expressing her love for me in such an energetic and enthusiastic way.

We had experienced intense orgasms less than an hour ago so both of us were much slower to cum. I thought it was a blessing to be inside Barbara’s heavenly cunt for such an extended time. Finally, after more than ten minutes a silent scream passed Barbara’s lips as her back arched about thirty degrees, driving her sensitive clit even more firmly into my body. I moved my hands from her breasts to her hips. Only my strength kept her from thrashing around, and possibly off, the bed. Once again, she was coming down; after almost a minute of what the French call “the little death”; as my hips drove her up and my cock exploded into her steaming hot vault.

Barbara was spent so I pulled her down to my body, taking care to let my shrinking organ escape her cunt. I knew there’d be leakage in this position so I wanted it on the sheets instead of in her. I spent the next fifteen minutes covering her face with tiny kisses while my hands rubbed her back and her glorious ass. Checking my watch I saw that the time was 1:17. I tried to rouse her. “C’mon, we need a shower and then I have to get you home.”

The shower was just a tub surrounded by a plastic curtain so we got in together once I had figured out how to work it and the water was warm enough. I washed Barbara with the motel’s tiny bar of soap while she used the other on me. For some reason we decided that was hilarious and we laughed through the entire episode.

I dried Barbara while she did the best she could with her hair then we dressed and I took the key back to the office. I was surprised to find the owner still on the job. On the brief walk Barbara had asked if we could come back tomorrow. That meant that I had two things to discuss. “I’d like to book the room for another night and I think I owe you for a bath towel. I’m sorry, but she bled on it.”

“You sure are an honest young man. Don’t worry about the towel. I’m just glad you had the sense to use one. It’ll be another fifteen for the room. I passed him another twenty and he amended the registration card. I left the office just a few minutes later. The clock on the wall said 1:54.

Barbara snuggled as closely to me as humanly possible for the entire drive home. We were ten minutes into the drive when Barbara looked up at me. “I can’t believe that something so beautiful could be a sin.”

“Welcome to the club. Truthfully, I find that a lot of the things that the Church considers to be sinful are ridiculous. Why do the priests and nuns always make everything so negative? If you don’t attend Mass every Sunday you’ll burn in hell. If you eat meat on Friday you’ll burn in hell. If that’s not bad enough, you don’t even have to commit a sin to burn in hell. All you have to do is think about it.”

“Yeah,” she responded cheerfully, “you’ll burn in hell for impure thoughts, or whatever.”

“On the positive side you have to know that what you’re doing is a sin for it to count. I don’t consider what we did tonight to be wrong, let alone a sin. Here’s something else; I find it hard to believe that someone who leads a good life, obeying the Commandments, won’t get into Heaven unless he’s Catholic. That just doesn’t make sense. I think that a lot of the things we are told exist only so the priests can control the people. Why else use all those scare tactics? Instead why not tell people how great they’ll feel if they attend Mass? I just don’t understand it.”

“Me neither, Jack; I do know this; what we did tonight was NOT WRONG. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced and tomorrow I want to do it again and again.” She reached up to kiss my cheek. I agreed with her completely. Making love with Barbara was the single most amazing thing I could imagine.

I dropped her off a few minutes after 2:30 Saturday morning and, even then, neither of us wanted me to leave. Finally, I whispered, “The sooner I leave the sooner I’ll be able to return. I’ll call you first; right after I tell my family how happy I am.” I leaned down for one more kiss before pushing her through the door. I was bone weary when I fell into bed around 3:00. Barbara had worn me out, something that hadn’t happened in 130 consecutive basketball games. What a woman!

I stumbled into the kitchen around 10:30 Saturday morning. My eyes showed my exhaustion and what my eyes didn’t show, my yawns did. I had just grabbed an apple for my breakfast when Carole plopped herself in my lap. “Why are you so tired, J.J?”

“I was up late celebrating.”

“Oh,” Mom asked as she walked into the kitchen. “What were you celebrating?”

“Yeah, J.J., what were you celebrating?”

I leaned down to hug and kiss my little sister. “I was celebrating you getting a new sister.”

Mom laughed, but Carole asked, “Is Mom having another baby? “ Then I laughed as Mom choked, nearly spilling her coffee all over her shirt.

“No, this time you’re getting an adult sister.”

“I guess you asked her, then.”

“Yes, Mom and she said yes; obviously.”

Mom came over to hug and kiss me, but Carole was still confused until I picked her up to hug her. “I asked Barbara to marry me last night. When she does she’ll be your sister-in-law.” I turned to Mom and explained how Barbara had almost fallen apart last night at the thought that we might break up when we graduated. “I couldn’t sit there and watch her cry, Mom, especially when I already knew that I was going to ask her in another couple of weeks.”

“Well, I’m not going to ask how you celebrated. Just make sure you’re careful.” I shook my head. There was no fooling my mother; dad either. I picked up the phone to dial the Gleason’s number. Mrs. Gleason answered and I spent fifteen minutes listening to her tell me how thrilled she was for both of us. I knew then that I’d sit through at least thirty minutes of the same when I picked Barbara up in half an hour.

I listened politely as the Gleason’s extolled about what we should do with our wedding. I thought that was funny because all four of us knew that they didn’t have any money to spend on it. This wedding was going to be on me. I felt blessed that I could afford the best for Barbara. She deserved it. I stood after being polite for forty-five minutes on the dot, explaining that we had a reservation for lunch and we had to meet with my family, too. They hugged and kissed us and I led Barbara down the stairs.

“Do we really have a reservation for lunch, Jack?”

“Well; .” Barbara grabbed my arm and hugged me as we stepped onto the sidewalk. A few minutes later we pulled into the diner’s parking lot. It was where we had our first real social interaction; not quite a date, but almost. We sat in the same booth, but this time around we ordered club sandwiches, mine with extra mayo, and Cokes. Unlike our first and even our subsequent visits, we sat together; very closely together; so we could touch and hold each other while we waited for our food.

I knew that Barbara was impatient to make love again. To tell the truth, I was impatient, too, but we still had to spend time with my family. She knew and she understood, but, like me, she wasn’t all that happy about it. None the less, we had our smiles in place when I opened the door around 2:00.

My parents were extremely pleased. I knew they loved Barbara and approved of our union. No; not that union; the marriage; the marriage!

There were hugs and kisses all around, but none like those from eight year-old Carole whose hug of Barbara might have killed her had I not intervened. We sat around the living room talking about when the wedding would take place. We already knew the where; St. Catharine’s. We talked about what Barbara would do in regard to her college and where we might try to find housing. That would be my priority when we went to Cambridge next week.

We stayed until four and left after Mom had invited Mr. and Mrs. Gleason to go out to dinner with our family tomorrow. “I think we’ll go to Manero’s. What do you think, Jack?”

“I think that’s great and seeing that it will be Sunday night we can probably have some of their garlic bread, too.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that restaurant,” Barbara told us.

“Not surprising,” I answered. “Manero’s is up in Greenwich; in Connecticut. We had an aunt and uncle; Dad’s sister;  who lived there a few years ago so we used to go there occasionally when we visited. It’s a steak house and a good one, but as much as it’s known for its steak that’s how much it’s known for its garlic bread. You’ll need to try some if only for self-defense.”

“I don’t think you’ll want to kiss J.J., Barbara.”

“Want to bet, Carole? What did I tell you? I kiss your brother whenever I can.” And then she demonstrated as Carole giggled and my parents just laughed. We waved good-bye as I turned around in the driveway.

Barbara was once again snuggled up really close. “I really love your family Jack. The Gleason’s are great people, but I’ve missed out on having brothers and sisters. I’m glad we’re going to have a family.”

“I’m glad we’re going to do all that practicing,” I kidded. She gave me a little elbow to the ribs, but whispered that she agreed. I drove into the motel’s parking lot and a minute later we were alone in the room. It had been made up and cleaned. The bed was turned down and a small bouquet of flowers had been placed on the dresser with a note that said, “Congratulations.” We were both surprised, but pleased.

Barbara once again moved into my arms. “I’m glad it’s early, Jack. We can spend a lot of time kissing and touching while I figure out what I want to do with you. I would have laughed except I knew that Barbara was dead serious. We stood kissing tenderly as we slowly removed each other’s clothes. Once we were naked we moved to the bed. Barbara pushed me onto my back so she could climb onto my torso. I wasn’t huge physically, but thanks to the changes in my brain I had been able to sculpt my body to maximize my strength. As such, I had very little body fat; just enough to promote optimal bodily functions. My legs were long with muscular definition from my crotch to my toes.

Barbara was about to kiss me again, but stopped and turned to look at my feet. She grabbed one foot and brought it up to lie across my other thigh. Then she did something that made me laugh. She held her tiny foot up to mine so our heels touched. My foot dwarfed hers. Turning to face me she said, “I never noticed how big your feet are. What size foot do you have?”

“Fourteen double-E,” I responded. “I need large muscular feet in order to jump so high and to be able to maintain my balance while moving quickly.”

“You have big feet. I wonder if there’s a correlation between the size of your feet and the size of your penis. Could you have made it bigger, too?”

“Yes, I could have made it twelve inches if I wanted, but why? You learned yesterday to rub your clitoris against my abdomen. You wouldn’t be able to do that if my penis; my cock; was that long. That wouldn’t be any good for you. It’s seven and a half inches long and thick enough to get the job done. That’s all that matters.”

“It sure is. I love the way it feels inside me, especially at the beginning when my cunny has to stretch to fit you. I had some doubts initially that you’d be able to get it into me. I should have known better, but I was a virgin. I just didn’t know.”

“I do know one thing; if I don’t get into you soon my cock is going to explode. Maybe we can do it three times tonight; once now, once after dinner, and then later, like eleven or twelve. What do you think?”

“I think I need to get that condom on you.” She reached over my body, tore the packet open, and unrolled the latex sheath; all in a space of only five seconds. Then she positioned herself over me and dropped, impaling herself just a second later. “You know,” she commented as she began to move, “this gives an entirely new meaning to words like impale, spear, pierce, stab, and skewer. I feel like I’ve been skewered on you, but it’s a wonderful feeling; absolutely wonderful. I love it almost as much as I love you.” She leaned forward then to kiss me; a kiss that seemed to go on forever. Then she broke it and got down to serious business, fucking me with incredible determination and strength.

She humped me furiously for more than five minutes before I began to feel tiny tremors running through her body. Those tiny tremors grew bigger and stronger with every thrust until they took over complete control of her body. She thrashed around wildly, moving from one side of the double bed to the other in just seconds. I would have cum earlier had I not been so wiped out, but I did cum eventually even as her tight cunt continued to grip me through her orgasm. She had collapsed onto my chest before my erupting cock ran out of semen.

We lay there together, my arms wrapped around her semi-conscious body, for some time before she began to stir. “Oh, Jack; I can’t wait until we are married so we can do that every day.; every single day. Are there other ways to do it? I want to try them all.”

“Well, there’s doggie; so named because it’s how dogs and all animals have sexual relations; strictly forbidden by the Church as is every position other than missionary which is how we did it the first time. There are others, too. Ever hear of the “Kama Sutra?” She shook her head to tell me “no” so I told her all about India’s imaginative sexual practices.

“How did you learn all about this?”

“Where did I spend most of my time? The public library of course; it is truly amazing what you can learn there. I even read the entire Kinsey Report there one Saturday when I was in eighth grade. Truthfully, some of those positions aren’t very appealing, but we can try as many as you want. We can buy the book after we’re married if you like.” She did like and we made love two more times that evening; doggie the first, which she loved when I reached under her body to caress her breasts, and lying on our sides with her in front of me with her top leg reaching back over my body. It was a slow and gentle mating after our frenzied sex earlier, but she loved it anyway. We finished the night by showering together before taking her home around 1:30.

I was up early to take her to Mass then we went to my house to relax with my family. Mr. and Mrs. Gleason came around three to meet my family and we left at five for the restaurant, roughly forty-five minutes away in Connecticut.

Dinner was great and; yes; we had plenty of garlic bread, but that did nothing to stop Barbara from kissing me. I sent her home early in my Olds; school tomorrow.

Barbara had decided not to make a big deal of her engagement. Her few close friends knew that she had a steady boyfriend; even knew who he was; but she thought a big announcement would be like bragging, something she usually despised. She went to her locker to put her jacket and purse away then selected her books for the morning and walked off to class.

She didn’t quite make it. One of her fellow students noticed the ring and practically screamed. A large crowd gathered around Barbara wanting to know the details. Unfortunately, this happened in front of Sister Mary Patrick, probably the meanest man-hating nun in the school. “What is going on here.” she practically screamed, totally overreacting to the situation.

“Barbara got engaged over the weekend,” one of the girls squealed.

“That’s absurd! Get into class now and get seated. We don’t have time for silly things like that.” The girls moved into the classroom, but when Barbara tried to pass Sister reached out to grab her wrist. She pulled and twisted Barbara to her and as she did she grasped the ring with her other hand, pulling it off of Barbara’s finger.

“This is no engagement ring. It isn’t even gold.”

“No, Sister; it’s platinum.”

“Nonsense. I’m keeping this in my top drawer with the rest of the cheap costume jewelry. Get to your seat. You’ve wasted enough of the class’s time already.” Barbara was near tears as she sat at her desk. She managed to get through the class and the next three, but returned to speak with Sister Mary Patrick before lunch.

“Sister, may I please have my ring back. I promise you that I won’t wear it to school again.”

“Sure; I know your type,” Sister Mary Patrick replied with a voice that dripped sarcasm. “You shake your filthy ass and flash your tits and all the boys go crazy.” She grabbed Barbara strongly by the elbow and pulled her into the classroom. “I remember girls like you from when I was in school. Girls flaunting themselves at boys, acting like tramps and floozies.”

“But; I’m not; .”

“Shut your mouth, slut!” By now she had pulled Barbara in toward the closet and reached inside. A second later her hand reappeared and Barbara felt the first horrible sting. She looked at the nun in disbelief as she whipped the astonished student repeatedly. “You’re a slut! A whore! A slag! A slattern! You’re no better than a woman who sells herself on the street. I know what you’re thinking.” And using her most mocking voice she continued, “I’m going to tell. I’ll tell the principal; Sister Mary Theresa.

“Well; go ahead, whore; I’ve been beating sluts like you for almost twenty years and I’m still here. She knows and she’s done nothing about it. She’ll do nothing about it now either.” She began whipping Barbara’s back anew, but this time Barbara was able to push the older and much heavier nun away.

She ran to the door, crying and bleeding. “You don’t know my fiancée. He’ll eat you alive; Sister Mary Theresa, too.” Then she bolted out the door and down the hall. Stopping only for a moment at her locker she grabbed her purse, left the locker open, and ran to the parking lot. Less than a minute later she was off school grounds, driving as carefully as she could through the veil of tears that poured from her eyes.

Where to go; that was the question. Mrs. Gleason would support the nun even though Barbara had done nothing wrong. She drove instead to Jack’s home, praying his mother would be there.

I had just opened my poetry book to Poe’s classic, “The Raven,” when the public address system blared. “Mrs. Wohl, please send Jack French to the office immediately. His mom is on the phone and there’s some problem at home.” I didn’t have to be told twice. I was out of my seat, leaving my books behind, knowing that one or more of my friends would take care of them for me. I went down the stairs two at a time and less than ten seconds later I stormed into the office. Mrs. Cecil told me to come behind the counter to take the phone. “It’s your mother, Jack.’

“Mom, what the problem?”

“Jack, Barbara’s here. She’s crying and incoherent. Something terrible must have happened at her school. You need to come home. She really needs you, Jack.”

I rung off and dashed out the door, running to the parking lot about a hundred yards away. I was in the Jeep and driving away in less than a minute. That’s when I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I would be doing nobody any favors if I crashed and killed myself. I slowed down, knowing that I’d still be home in ten minutes or less. There was no traffic so I was able to go a few miles above the speed limit. The closer to home I got the faster I drove, my tires squealing when I pulled into the driveway. I ran into the house where I found Mom and Barbara in the living room. She was still crying and shaking terribly. The first thing I noticed was that her engagement ring was missing. “Barbara, honey, what’s wrong,” I asked as I put my arms around her. I was shocked when she grimaced and gasped in obvious pain and my shock was even greater when I saw her blood on my hands. I stood and looked in amazement at her blood-soaked blouse.

Taking her hands into mine I then used my handkerchief to wipe the tears from her face. “Try to calm down, love. Tell me what happened. Mom, can you get her some water, please?”

Barbara took a couple of long drinks then told us in barely coherent sentences that were broken by gasps and heavy panting. “It was; Sister Mary Patrick. Some of the girls; they crowded around me to see my ring then she; she grabbed my hand and ; she twisted it off my; off my finger. My wrist really hurts. I tried to talk; tried just before lunch to; to speak with her, but; but she called me names; whore and slut. She pulled me into; into her classroom and started to beat me. She; she told me she’s been doing; beating girls for; for twenty years.”

“What about the principal?”

“She told me, Jack; she told me the principal knows but hasn’t done anything.” I was livid. Luckily, they were ten miles away and Barbara needed medical help or I would have driven to that school and killed both of them. Instead, I unbuttoned Barbara’s blouse, gasping in shock when I saw the oozing welts on her back. Gently, I replaced the blouse and walked out to the kitchen to phone my lawyer.

Stanley Silverman had been my lawyer for years. He had been instrumental in forming my corporation. That’s right, I was incorporated; my investments were all owned by JJF, Inc. I knew he’d give me good advice. He was on the phone less than a minute after his wife Rebecca had greeted me. I settled my nerves and told him what had happened. “You know where Cross County Hospital is in Yonkers, don’t you?” He continued once I had agreed. “I’m on my way. I’ll have a friend from the Yonkers PD meet you in the E R. His name is Lieutenant Paul Flanagan.”

“You’re getting an Irish Catholic cop for a case against some Catholic nuns?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just take care of your fiancée. I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and helped Barbara to her feet as I explained to my mother what we were doing. I eased Barbara into the passenger seat of the Olds. It was much faster and more comfortable than the Jeep.

Cross County Hospital was just off the Cross County Parkway; thus the name; only about ten minutes from my home with but one traffic light on the trip. I stopped in emergency parking at the ER and helped Barbara in. “What’s the rush, buddy?” It was a security guard who asked.

“My fiancée has been whipped at her school. She needs attention.” I turned her around to show her bloodstained blouse. “Don’t bother calling the police; they’re already on the way.”

Barbara was shown to a screened off area where her blouse was removed while I gave what information I could at the registration desk. Rather typically, they were mostly interested in who was paying. I was there when a tall thin man in a grey suit walked in. “You Jack?”

“Yes, I’m Jack French.”

“Paul Flanagan; where’s your girlfriend? Stan gave me some preliminary info, but I’ll need to speak with her directly. I also have a photographer and a female officer on the way.” I finished the registration process by signing that I would be responsible for any fees then led the detective down the hall. I was sure that he’d seen everything in his years on the force.

Yonkers was a city of more than 70,000 people and there were murders and rapes that occurred almost every day. All the same, he did a double take when we walked in to see her.

Barbara was lying on her chest when Lt. Flanagan told the nurse to keep her blouse and bra for evidence. “Also, I want you to wait a few minutes until a photographer arrives.”

“We have a camera here for cases like this Lieutenant.” She returned with it a few minutes later and had taken three flash photos when the female officer and the police photographer rushed in. Once again several photos were taken. Barbara was asked to sit up, a towel over her breasts for modesty and privacy, so more could be taken from different angles. Then she was allowed to lie down for treatment. Lt. Flanagan asked her about the incident and Barbara, who was much calmer now, told exactly what had occurred from the theft of her ring through her beating.

I was watching Flanagan’s face as Barbara spoke and I was surprised at his reactions. I could see real anger in his eyes. I found out why later on, after Stanley Silverman walked into the area, attracted no doubt by hearing Flanagan’s strong voice. He sat by silently until Flanagan was finished. “How much did the ring cost, Jack?”

“I have the receipt right here in my wallet. I got it from Harry Winston for $2,750 when I bought Barbara’s Christmas presents. It’s insured for that amount.” I showed him the slip of paper. He asked if he could keep it. Then he asked what we wanted to do. I looked at Barbara and saw immediately that she trusted my judgment. “I want these people in prison. Besides that, Stan, I want to sue, especially if we can find out if it’s gone on for years. I realize that nuns have been known to use corporal punishment, but I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

“I have,” Lt. Flanagan stated. “Something similar happened to me when I was a kid, except then it was a priest. I never set foot in a Catholic church again.”

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing I could think of to say. He spoke to and with Barbara until the doctor called an end to the interview. Lt. Flanagan, Mr. Silverman and I retreated to a small unused office we had been told was set aside just for situations like this. Lt. Flanagan sat at the desk expanding his notes while I asked Mr. Silverman a few questions. “Stan, what is the waiting period on a marriage license?”

“Normally seventy-two hours unless a person can get a waiver.”

“What about blood tests?”

“No, they went out after World War II.”

“How do I get a waiver?”

“Why?”

“I don’t want Barbara going back to that school. If I marry her can she attend school where I live? When I proposed I promised to love, cherish, and protect her. I’ll feel a lot better if she’s where I can help her.”

“Okay, I think I can help you on both fronts. When were you going to get the license?”

“Either this afternoon or tomorrow morning and I was hoping we could get married Thursday morning, why?”

“I’ll put together a writ for a judge I know very well waiving the 72-hour period in favor of 48-hours. At the same time I’ll ask the judge for an order requiring the school district to enroll Barbara.” He took out a small notebook and wrote Barbara’s full name and date of birth, adding my address. “The law says nothing about a married woman or man attending school so long as the residency requirement is met. That hasn’t stopped most school districts from barring married women, though. Schools do all kinds of illegal things until they’re challenged. If I can get a judicial order we’ll have the upper hand.”

“Okay, how about getting a short-term lease at an apartment or house?”

“I can probably help you there, too. You will probably have more success renting using your corporation than doing it yourself. I assume you’ll be taking her to Massachusetts with you?” I nodded and he agreed. “Then we should use the same approach when you go there. Let me know what you plan to do.”

“Fine; next issue; how do we go about suing the school and the archdiocese and how does Barbara press charges against the teacher and the principal?”

Stan was about to answer when Lt. Flanagan interrupted. “You might want to hold off for a bit on that. You ever hear of a Monsignor Moran?”

“You mean that pompous ass who’s the cardinal’s right-hand man? Yeah, I’ve met him. The first thing he ever told me was how he knew everything that happened in the archdiocese and that he was the real power. That was at a dinner last September about donations to refurbish the chapel at Dunwoodie. I made a sizable pledge.”

“Here’s what I’m thinking. Let’s assume that this nun was telling the truth. She’s been beating and whipping girls for the last twenty years. The principal would have to know about it and if she knows then Moran would have to know, too.”

“Damn! That’s conspiracy and that would mean we could make a good case for a class action suit.”

“That’s exactly right, Stan.”

“Mind telling me what you’re talking about?”

“It’s simple, Jack. If someone knows that a crime has been committed or either knows or suspects that a crime is going to be committed, but doesn’t report it to the police that’s called conspiracy. Conspiracy is a Class A felony. Striking a student with a whip or a cane; that’s a flexible stick like rattan or leather or bamboo; could be considered assault with a deadly weapon or, at least, aggravated assault. But, Paul, how do we get the evidence on Moran and the principal?”

“I’ll need a warrant, but with Barbara’s statement and the pictures I don’t think that will be a problem. I can’t send a sworn officer in to speak with them, but I could send Barbara.”

“Absolutely not! That’s never going to happen!”

“Or, I could send you, Jack. As her husband you’ll have a legal right to discuss her situation and to demand the ring back and action against the teacher. There’s another advantage to using you. You’re big and strong. You’re not likely to be intimidated. If you made a pledge with Moran you’ll already have a legitimate reason for speaking with him. You can wear a wire. We’ll have a team nearby taping the conversation. I’ll tell you what to say and how to steer the conversation. When we have the evidence you and Barbara will have to testify before the grand jury. Don’t worry about that. It’s done in secrecy with only the district attorney or his designee asking questions. I think I’d ask for you to go first. That way you can be in the room with her for support. She’ll need it, Jack; all you can give her.”

We spoke then about some of the details, like how many girls had likely been beaten. The teacher had said something about dozens. That would mean that others besides the principal and Monsignor Moran also knew. How many other sisters? How many lay teachers? It would be interesting once the lawsuit was filed. Knowing Stanley Silverman there would be a huge press conference on the courthouse steps. Stan was nothing if not a publicity hound, but he did listen carefully to what Lt. Flanagan said. He knew we would have a much stronger case if criminal charges were filed first; better still if there were convictions. Looking at my watch I saw that more than an hour had passed so I wandered back in to Barbara. She was asleep, lying on her stomach, when the nurse said she was okay to go home. She handed me three preions and gently shook Barbara’s shoulder.

I saw that she was wearing only the hospital gown. While she was rousing herself I went downstairs to the shopping mall. This was the craziest situation I had ever seen; a hospital right in the middle of a major mall.

Once in Macy’s I spent only a few minutes selecting new clothes for Barbara. She dressed in minutes then I found the car and helped her in from the wheelchair to the front seat.

“Where are we going, Jack?”

I knew that we had to talk so I pulled over to the side of the road. “Barbara, we need to make a few adjustments in our timetable.” She began to cry, thinking that I was breaking the engagement in light of what had happened. Just the opposite was true. I gently stroked her cheek as I explained. “I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t say that well. Tomorrow morning I’d like for us to get our license. Mr. Silverman will get us a waiver so we don’t have to wait seventy-two hours to get married. If you agree we’ll get married Thursday morning at the Eastchester Town Hall. Until then I want you to stay with my family. You can sleep in Carole’s bed. I promised to protect you and that’s what I plan to do. We may have to put off our trip to Cambridge for a day or two. Lt. Flanagan has a job for me.

“I don’t want you to ever go back to that school. Mr. Silverman says you will be allowed to attend school with me.”

“I think it will be a bit difficult living with your family.”

“I agree. You can get a little noisy from time to time.” She smiled for the first time since this mess had transpired and she moved over to kiss me. “That’s why he’s looking for a short-term apartment lease for us. It’ll all work out; you’ll see.” I gave her a quick peck then pulled out onto the highway again.

“I don’t want to sleep in Carole’s bed, Jack. I’m still afraid. I want to sleep with you where I know I’ll be safe.” I wondered how I’d explain that to my parents, but it turned out just fine. I put Barbara to bed wearing one of my tee shirts and a pair of gym shorts that I had tied around her slender waist.

Later I helped her with a bowl of homemade chicken soup for dinner then I took two large suitcases to Mrs. Gleason so I could get most of Barbara’s clothes. She wasn’t happy, not believing that one of her precious nuns would ever harm a student. “I invite you to say that after you’ve seen Barbara’s back, Mrs. Gleason. I think you are a wonderful woman, but when it comes to the Catholic Church you’re deaf, dumb, and blind to the things they sometimes do. Barbara has a badly sprained wrist from when that nun; your ‘good Sister’; twisted it and ripped her engagement ring from her finger and she has at least thirty welts across her back from being whipped. And, for what? Because she asked politely if she could have her ring back? I guarantee this: she will get it back and a whole lot more before I’m done with them.” I got most of Barbara’s things in the Olds before driving home around 9:30. I was glad to see her laugh when I told her I had no idea where we would put all this “stuff.”

We watched TV for about a half hour before I took a shower and prepped for bed. Barbara couldn’t shower for a few days. Her back was covered with bandages and the painkillers she was taking made her woozy. I helped her to the toilet then we climbed into bed with me lying on my back and Barbara’s head on my chest, her leg lightly draped over mine. It had been a long and difficult day. I was surprised at how quickly I fell asleep.

I phoned the school office the following morning to let them know that I’d be late. Mom signed the note I had written even though Mr. Silverman had told me that someone my age could write and sign as an adult. Dad had made us a good hearty breakfast of cream of wheat and orange juice with coffee for Barbara and hot chocolate for the rest of us. My sisters were very sympathetic toward Barbara, but Carole seemed devastated. Barbara looked at me and it was as though we communicated through mental telepathy. I confirmed with a slight nod.

“Jack and I are going to get our marriage license this morning and we’re going to be married Thursday morning in a civil ceremony. We’ll have a formal ceremony later in a church, but we don’t know which one it will be yet. Carole, I’d like you to be my maid of honor. You get to stand fight next to me the whole time. Who’s going to be your best man, Jack?”

“I’ll tell my buddies when I get to school this morning and I’ll ask Eli. He’s my closest friend. If he can’t I guess it will be Dad. We kissed everyone good-bye even though we knew we were too early for the license bureau. Instead we drove around the community checking out the apartments. There were only two in Chester Heights, but we found an additional four in the Village of Tuckahoe that were in the school district. Checking the local newspaper I also found three houses for rent. We thought they might be better because they were furnished. I found a phone booth and called Stanley Silverman’s office. He was already en route to the court, but his wife said he would get back to us later this evening.

Barbara and I were first in line when the office opened. We completed the form and paid the three dollar fee. While there we also checked on how to get married and were advised that a justice of the peace was always on duty from nine to five weekdays. That would suit our purposes perfectly. I dropped Barbara back with my mother, leaving her with a big kiss and drove to school.

It was lunchtime before I had a chance to tell everyone what the emergency was. I was seated at a table with my basketball teammates when I also told them about the wedding. “I’d like all of you to come Thursday morning. We won’t know the actual time until it happens because we might have to wait if there are others ahead of us, but Eli, I’d like you to be best man.”

“I’d be honored, Freak, but someone will have to pick me up. You know I don’t have a car.” I did know that. Eli’s dad ran a gardening/landscaping business and; unlike many of the other Negro families in the area who lived in apartments; he lived in a small house that I had visited many times. The house was always immaculately neat and clean and I knew his parents were strict. Boy, were they strict! One time back in junior high when Eli had cut his hair into a Mohawk, his mother had banished him to the garage until it had grown in again to something she considered presentable. He never did anything that foolish again. I had to agree with his mom. He looked like a fool until he finally had the opportunity to trim his hair to a uniform length.

As happy as they were for my impending wedding that’s how angry they were when they heard about Barbara’s injuries. They couldn’t envision any scenario in which something like that could be considered appropriate. Even in our public school none of us could remember any time when a student had been struck by a teacher; by another student, sure, but not by a teacher.

Before I knew it the day was over and it was time for baseball practice. I phoned Barbara from the phone booth outside the cafeteria and we spoke for a few minutes. She assured me that Mom was taking good care of her. I told her that I loved her and ran out to my car to drive into the village to our field.

Tuckahoe High School had been built in the 1930’s on a plot that was really much too small. Looking at the schools we competed against anyone could see that they had three or four times as much land as we did. I didn’t know why and I probably would never know the reason, but our baseball field belonged to the Village of Tuckahoe and was about three miles away. I skipped the bus because I saved almost an hour by taking my car. Today Eli and Tony joined me. We were in a jovial mood even though they teased me about giving up my freedom. They had met Barbara on several occasions so they knew what I was getting. I was also sure they were thinking about all the sex I was about to get, but they were good friends so they had huge smiles, but said nothing.

I walked in the door at 5:30 that evening to my usual greeting from Carole who always jumped up into my arms for a hug and kiss. That ceremony was a little shorter today because I needed to look after Barbara. I found her in the living room, sitting calmly and reading a book from the library. She looked better and when I touched her back I could see that one of the preions, an ointment that I had rubbed in this morning before replacing her bandages, had done a good job on her welts. Still, the doctor had told us the full healing process was likely to take several weeks, at least.

I know what you’re thinking. Why couldn’t I use some of my special brain power to help her? I would have gladly, but I had never been able to help others that way, not that I hadn’t tried. Two years ago Carole stepped into a big patch of poison ivy near our parents’ bungalow way out in Long Island. I tried everything, but I was totally unable to relieve the stinging, burning, and itching sensations she had. Instead, I rubbed calamine lotion over her legs four times a day for almost a week.

I grabbed a quick shower so I’d be presentable at dinner and after and dealt with my homework in the breakfast nook, finishing at nine. Barbara took a shower that was more a sponge bath as she still had to keep her injured back dry and I helped to dry her then carefully applied the ointment before affixing new bandages to her back. She turned to face me clad only in the gym shorts and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I love you, Jack. You make me feel so safe and secure and it’s nice to see that I have an effect on you, too.” She did; she’d made me as hard as a rock in seconds. “I think I’ll be able to handle that rather big problem you’re having as soon as we get into bed.”

“What about my parents?”

“Oh, Jack; your mom already knows and if she knows so does your dad. She saw how you handled my body last night when you dressed me for bed and put two and two together. We’re going to be married in two days. She asked me if you were taking care of me and I assured her you were; the very best of care; and then we both laughed. I don’t think I can handle missionary yet, but I can take the top if you’ll be careful about touching my back. On the positive side I won’t have to go to confession ever again. Maybe we can check out some churches on Friday.”

“No, by then we’ll be in my parents’ bungalow out in Shoreham. It will do us some good to get away and relax for a few days. I can phone Lt. Flanagan late Friday morning. I think he’ll have some info for us by then.” We brushed our teeth and climbed into the bed. She stripped my pajamas from my body while I helped her out of the shorts. I thought it might be better if she kept the tee shirt on, but she pulled it over her head, telling me she was much more comfortable without it.

She was ready; no, actually she was eager; to make love, to show her love and to take mine freely. She lay on my chest, kissing my neck and my cheeks before her lips found mine. Her passion had never been more ardent. I wanted more than anything to hold her in my embrace, but I knew that would hurt my love terribly. Instead I moved my hands to her hips, massaging the tight globes of her ass as she drove her pubis into mine. Suddenly she stopped, broke the kiss, and lifted her body. I supported her by placing my hands on her shoulders, being careful to keep my fingers on the front of her deliciously sexy body. She spent almost no time running my cock into her slit and slowly easing her way down.

“Hmmm; impale; spear; penetrate; any way you say it, Jack, it’s the best feeling in the world. Push it into me, Jack; all the way. I can’t tell you how much I need it.” She took the tee shirt and jammed the sleeve into her mouth then, hands on my shoulders she began the ride of her life. Her movements were frantic, demonstrating her terrible yearning. This was no slow loving intercourse. It was instead hard animalistic fucking; sex at its rawest level.

She moved herself up and down my cock at an incredible pace; sweat falling from her breasts ; until she threw her head back and growled like a feral beast as her body shook wildly. I was truly concerned for her safety as I was unable to grasp her torso without hurting her. I settled for her hips as I drove up; thrusting my spear deep into her slender body. Only when we were done did I realize that I had failed to use a condom.

“Barbara,” I whispered, “I forgot the condom.”

She leaned down to kiss me. “I think we’ll be fine. My period is due in three days so I’m not terribly concerned. Even if I become pregnant we’ll be married and we’ll be proud and loving parents. Don’t you have any flashes?”

‘No; you know that I can’t control that. Maybe we should throw some clothes on and get to sleep.” Barbara agreed and soon enough we were under the covers and asleep in the same position that we shared last night. Little did I realize that we’d sleep like that virtually every night for the rest of our lives.

Wednesday was just the same except that we had a scrimmage against Mount Vernon after school. Because of that Barbara had driven us to school, returning later so she could follow our bus to the Mount Vernon field which was quite close to our house. I usually play center field when I’m not pitching. Being early in the season each of our three pitchers was scheduled throw three innings. I started the game, relying on my mid-nineties fastball and slider. I threw three innings of one-hit ball while we took a two-run lead behind a double by Eli, single by me and another double by Tony two outs later. I shifted to center in the fourth inning, getting another single as we won by the score of 2-1. I drove back with Barbara, eagerly looking forward to tomorrow’s ceremony. The game had been a good preparation for our opener right after our Easter vacation.

My sisters had a huge discussion at dinner about what they should wear. Dad and I laughed, but Mom silenced us with a look. “This is an important day in our lives and understandably we want to look our best. What are you wearing, Jack?”

“My navy suit, white shirt, and the paisley tie that Barbara gave me for Christmas.”

“So, you’re dressing up as you should. I know that Barbara will also dress up. It isn’t every day that you get married. I know what Barbara is wearing and I think that the two of you will look great. Now leave the girls alone so we can plan what to wear.”

I usually knew when to shut up and this was clearly one of those times. I picked up a pork chop with my fork and when Barbara held out her plate I passed it over to her before being rewarded with a nice, but chaste kiss.

Once my sisters decided what they were going to wear the meal was like so many others we’d had over the years, loaded with animated discussion. Tonight, however, it was all centered on the wedding. My sister Marie told us that she had gone to the pharmacy this afternoon to buy flashbulbs and film for her Kodak Brownie. “I’m going to take a lot of pictures,” she told us with a huge smile.

Suddenly, Barbara had a somber serious expression on her face. “Jack, we don’t have any rings.”

“We don’t need rings to get married, but we do have some. They are a matching set to your solitaire as you’ll see when you get it back. Okay, now?” She smiled again and threw her arms around my neck, kissing me passionately in front of my giggling sisters and smiling parents.

Turning to the sisters on the other side of the table she said, “You’d better get used to seeing that. What did I tell you about kissing Jack, Carole?”

“You kiss him as often as you can.”

“And he deserves it, too. How many boys do you think would rescue their fiancée the way Jack has rescued me? A lot of them would have turned tail and run, leaving me high and dry even though I did nothing wrong. Only crosses are permitted around your neck, but there’s no school rule about wearing rings or bracelets. I’m very lucky to have him and all of you, too.” That was my cue to lean over and kiss my future bride.

Rather than help with the dishes, Barbara, Carole, and I were excused so I could shine the shoes. I did Carole’s and mine and then I got my first glimpse of what Barbara would wear. Her shoes were a silvery color. That was the only way I could describe them. Fortunately she had polish for them. I assumed correctly that it was squirreled away in the box with the shoes. Looking at Barbara I resolved to thank Mrs. Gleason the next time I saw her.

NEXT: My day of revenge.

To be continued, by Senor Longo.

 I learn to love my Catholic School girl.

Based on a post by Senor Longo. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

THE FREAK; Part 2

We were in my car and on our way when Barbara asked, “Would you really have fought with that guy?”

“No; I knew he’d back off. He was all mouth. If he really wanted to hurt me he and his buddies would have jumped me without any warning. How about we get some seafood tonight? I know of a good restaurant just down the road in Bronxville.” Barbara agreed and ten minutes later we were seated at a table, menus in our hands.

I ordered a pitcher of Coke as we checked the menu. I had to laugh when I showed one item on the menu to Barbara. “No, thanks,” she said with a smile to my offer of garlic bread. I passed on it, too. I decided on the seafood alfredo and a tossed salad with bleu cheese dressing. Not surprisingly, Barbara ordered the same.

She started the conversation by telling me how much she liked my family. “Your mom and dad are so nice and so are your sisters although I barely know Angela because she’s always cheering at the games. I especially like your little sister, Carole. It’s so obvious how much she loves you.”

“She always has nice things to say about you, too. Say, I just had a thought. Want to come to Tuesday’s game? It’s at home against Gorton. That’s another high school in Yonkers. They’ve always played pretty well against us.”

“I’d love to, but how will I get there? You’ll be at school and your parents will probably get there long before I can get to Chester Heights.”

“You have a driver’s license, don’t you?”

“Yes, but; .”

“I’ll pick you up for church Sunday and after breakfast I’ll let you drive to your school then back to mine so you’ll know how to get there. I’ll draw you a map, too.”

“You’re going to trust me with your new car?”

“Yeah; aren’t you trustworthy? Is there a place you can keep it at your apartment?”

“There’s some parking in a fenced lot behind the building and I’ll make sure to lock it, too.”

“Oh, Jack; you’re the best.” I thought she was going to continue to tell me that she loved me, but then I realized that it was too soon.

Our salads were delicious and very fresh, which I found surprising considering that it was mid-December. We ate in comfortable silence. Every once in a while I’d look at Barbara and I always found that she was looking at me at the same time. We just smiled at each other and returned to eating.

The alfredo was a great choice. The shrimp and scallops were tender and delicious and the sauce had obviously been freshly made. It really was a great meal. We left a bit after eleven, driving to my favorite parking spot at the end of the apartment complex, only two blocks from my home. I moved to the center of the seat, telling Barbara that we’d have more room that way.
We began kissing, lips locked together and tongues dancing in desire. The windows were steaming up when Barbara moved to straddle me. We never broke our kiss when she began to dry hump my thigh. Seeing this as a signal that she wanted to go a bit further I lightly brushed her nipples with the back of my hand. Her moan of pleasure died in my mouth so I did it again, this time a little harder. She responded by spreading her legs and grinding her cunny into my leg.

I opened her blouse and snaked my hands around her to remove her bra. A second later her glorious breasts were in my hands. I wasn’t someone who thought that playing with a girl’s breasts was all about some kind of stupid conquest for me. This was about making her feel good; maximizing the pleasure she was experiencing. I rolled her sensitive nipples in my fingers, being careful not to pinch or hurt her. We continued like this until she threw her head back, groaning in her ecstasy. “Jack! Oh God, Jack; that feels so good.” Then looking into my eyes she whispered, “I’m a virgin, Jack.”

“And you will be until you decide otherwise. Barbara; will you ; will you touch me?” She looked confused so I continued. “I mean here.” Taking her hand, I placed it lightly on my rock hard cock.

Looking straight into my eyes she began to rub me through my slacks. “What do you want me to do, Jack? Please tell me.”

“Undo my belt and open my pants then pull down my zipper.” I continued to massage her breasts then when my briefs were exposed I used both hands to move my cock and balls through the leg hole. I had tried boxers a year ago when I received several pair at Christmas, but I didn’t like the feeling of no support so I threw them out and went back to the briefs. Barbara took me in hand and began to slowly stroke me. Her touch was like velvet, exactly what I imagined her cunny to be as her slender delicate hands moved up and down my thick shaft.

I probably could have made my penis as big as a horse’s, but I never saw the appeal. A really long cock would mean either having several inches out in the breeze while fucking or driving into her sensitive cervix with every thrust. I was perfectly satisfied with my seven and a half inches. Yes; I had measured it one night way back in junior high. Now I was being stroked by an absolute goddess. She must have enjoyed it because she gripped me tighter with every stroke and what had begun as slow gentle rubbing was now approaching a feverish pace.

“Barbara! Please! If you continue like that, there’s going to be a terrible mess. I can’t send you home with semen on your clothes and in your hair.”

“It would squirt that far?”

“I’m afraid so. What you’re doing to me is heavenly, but; .”

“What if we used one of those things? Those condoms?”

“Yeah; that would work.” Barbara leaned forward again to kiss me then she turned to open the glove box. A minute later she had rolled the thin latex sheath over my organ, taking care as I had instructed to pinch the nipple tightly to keep air from intruding the space between my skin and the lubricated rubber.

Stating slowly again, she ran her fingers up and down, squeezing tighter and tighter and, once again, building her pace until she was in full masturbation mode. I usually had good orgasm control, but tonight I’d had plenty of sexual stimulation from Barbara’s sweet lips and her hard sensitive nipples. She hadn’t been at me for even two minutes when my hips thrust up violently and long thick ropes of slick sperm-laden semen erupted into the tip. It was more than full by the time I finished more than thirty seconds later, sinking back into the seat in exhaustion.

My breathing was deep, slow, and labored as I began the trek back from the abyss of my orgasm. I could see from the alarm on Barbara’s face that she’d never experienced anything close to what had just happened. “Are you okay, Jack?”

“I know that appearances can be deceiving, but; yeah, I’m more than okay. That was great, better than great. It was incredible. Just let me get rid of this and clean myself up then I’ll gladly take care of you.”

“Me? How?” I leaned forward to kiss her, whispering my thanks into her ear then I rolled down the window and eased the condom off my shrinking penis. After tying it into a knot I tossed it through the window, closing it quickly once that was done. Reaching over the seat I pulled my gym bag up, unzipped, and pulled out my still damp towel. Then it was a breeze to clean myself and dress.

Once that was done I took Barbara into my arms again. “I hope that didn’t scare you. Orgasms can be pretty intense. That one sure was.”

“I have to admit; that was my first male one.”

I looked at her and we began to giggle. “I didn’t realize that this was confession time. Do I get to give you penance now? For penance give me a long deep and juicy kiss.”

“Penance isn’t usually fun at least it’s not supposed to be.” She leaned forward and we kissed as I moved her down to the seat, her head near the steering wheel. My hands found the button and zipper on her slacks then she lifted her hips to help me get them off her slender body. I folded them carefully over the seat back. I couldn’t send her home with slacks that we’d stepped all over. That would never do. Her cotton panties were next. I felt the moisture in the crotch and I could easily smell her arousal. I began by kissing her lightly then my kisses went to her ear and then her neck. I followed by kissing each areola and suckling each nipple. By now Barbara was a panting wreck, tremors coursing through her body.

They only got worse when I plunged my tongue into her navel, licking clockwise then changing to the opposite. Finally, I moved between her legs and attacked her quivering cunny with the broad of my tongue. Starting at the bottom of her slit I moved forward slowly, teasing her terribly. I continued for more than five minutes, my strokes getting lighter and more teasing every time. Barbara was shaking uncontrollably when my tongue penetrated where nothing had ever been before. She responded by wrapping her shapely silken thighs around my head and humping my face with incredible vigor.

The dashboard clock told me I had to hurry. It was almost time to take her home. I spread her legs wide, moving her hard bud out from its hood then I sucked it between my teeth and gnawed for almost a minute. Barbara’s shaking turned into thrashing that ended with a mighty convulsion from which her body was lifted almost a foot above the seat before it collapsed with a mighty exhalation onto the firm leather almost totally out of it.

I pulled her up into a sitting position then struggled to return her panties to her body. Her slacks followed and finally I clasped her bra and buttoned her blouse. I backed out the door and helped her to stand so I could tuck her blouse into the slacks and help her back into her coat. We left then, driving to Pelham where we kissed goodnight just outside the apartment door. She turned as I descended the stairs, blowing a kiss. I smiled then turned and walked out into the cold clear night.

I picked Barbara up at seven the following night for bowling. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Gleason commented on Barbara’s condition last night so I assumed that they had been in bed when she walked in to the apartment. Barbara confirmed that once we were in the car.

I drove to Mount Vernon, parking in the small lot that was used primarily during the morning for the commercial bakery that occupied the building’s first floor. It was a long climb up the stairs, a bowling bag in each hand and Barbara hanging onto my arm. “Tell me again why you have two balls.” Then she began to laugh before continuing, “Er; bowling balls.”

I just shook my head. Holding up my right hand I explained, “This one is my strike ball. It’s the one I always use to start a frame. If I miss the strike I use the other ball for the spare. Lots of bowlers use more than one ball. I’ll show you how they work once we’re inside.” I leaned over for a second and Barbara, apparently reading my mind brought her lips up to mine for a brief kiss. I opened the door by tucking one bag under my arm and pulling it so Barbara could walk in before me. I led her up to the counter where I was greeted by the owner.

“Hi. J.J; .haven’t seen you for a while. Taking a look at your friend here I can understand why.”

“Hi, Stan; this is Barbara. She’ll need a pair of shoes. Barbara, trade him yours for a pair of his then you’ll trade back once we’re done.”

She removed her shoes, telling Stan, “Size six, please.” A minute later we were walking to lane 12 with a large score sheet in Barbara’s hands. We laced up our shoes and I placed my balls on the rack then accompanied Barbara to find her a ball. Stan had come around the counter once he had looked at her hands to show us where to look among the sixteen racks, each of which had at least two dozen balls of various weights. It took us a while, but with Stan’s help we found a 12-pound ball that fit her well.

“Want a couple of practice throws.” I asked. “Stan will turn the machine off for what is called ‘shadow bowling.’ It’s a good way to warm up and get your timing set.” I waved to Stan and he returned the gesture, knowing immediately what I wanted. Then I showed Barbara how to coordinate her approach. I used a four-step approach and suggested that to her. “Just relax and don’t worry about the score.”

“Don’t you think I can beat you?” She sounded serious, but I knew she was only teasing. I’m a very good bowler. I’d bowled in an A-level league for the past two years with my Dad and would do so again once the basketball season was concluded. We’d won the league championship last year with me bowling in the anchor position. I had averaged 203.6, one of the top averages in the league. We spent about ten minutes practicing until I waved at Stan again. The lights went on and we did it for real. I tried to show Barbara that timing and coordination were more important than sheer brute force. In fact, I showed her that brute force was almost always the cause of a split or worse.

We had a great time, just as we did with everything we had done although Barbara did accuse me of cheating when I scored a difficult spare; the 6,7,10 split; left handed. Barbara did well, breaking 100 in each of the three games we bowled. I bowled 177, 184, and 223, my first two games showing the rust from not having thrown a ball in several months. We finished and exited the lanes around nine when I drove us to a nearby Carvel for ice cream sundaes. We were at the end of the apartment complex by 10:15. Barbara seemed pleased at that.

She waited until I had moved over to the center position then rose to straddle my lap once again. She locked those sweet plump lips onto mine in only a second. We went from zero to one hundred; full make-out mode; in less than a second. It was the most passionate kissing I had ever experienced and, knowing of Barbara’s limited experience, I was sure it was for her, also. We were only into it a few minutes when she removed her coat and threw it into the rear seat. Back to kissing, she led my hands to her blouse’s buttons. “Please, Jack. I need your hands on me. Please massage my breasts and do that thing you did last night with my nipples.”

She pressed those hot lips into mine with a ferocity I’d never seen or experienced before. My huge hands pulled her to me, almost crushing her in my embrace and in my passion. Slowly, I moved those powerful hands to the buttons on the front of her blouse. It found a place on the back seat a moment later. Like most guys I struggled with the clasp on her bra until finally freeing up her pert breasts. She brought my hands to them even as the bra flew behind me.

I was deeply engaged in our kiss, massaging her flesh and rolling her nipples between my fingers when she pushed my jacket off my body and began to open the buttons on my shirt. She was efficient; less than two minutes later our upper bodies were naked. “I love the feeling of your skin; your hard strong muscles; against mine, Jack,” she whispered just loud enough that I could hear her over the strains of the radio.

“I have to agree. Your skin is so smooth and soft. It’s like velvet.”

“Can I open your pants, Jack?” Yeah, like I’d complain about having my cock stroked by a hot woman I was rapidly learning to love. She was anything but tentative as her fingers tore at my belt and opened my pants. She reached into my briefs, pulling my manhood; my hard pulsing manhood; out into the cool December air.

Her hand wrapped around me to begin a gentle stroking rhythm. “You know, Jack, people send their daughters to Catholic school for more than one reason. Some want their girls to get a strong religious education.”

“And the others?”

“Well; mostly they want to keep them away from boys.”

“Does that actually work?”

“Sometimes, I guess, but other times I don’t think so. If a girl wants to get involved with a boy there isn’t much the parents can do.”

“So, which one are you?”

I could see Barbara’s wry smile in the dashboard light. “I’d say the first kind until I met you. Now, I don’t think anyone could keep me away from you.” I leaned forward and we kissed again then I leaned down to suckle at her breasts. Suckling, I pulled her hard sensitive nipple between my teeth causing Barbara to gasp audibly and arch her back in an expression of her ecstasy.

Suddenly, she stood up as well as one can in the front seat of a car and slid her slacks down her legs, her panties following seconds later. “I hope the cops don’t show up,” I laughed.

“Me, too,” she replied. “Maybe we should lie down or, even better, why don’t you lie down. I want to be here.” She knelt then on the floor while she pushed my head toward the driver’s seat. “You know, Jack; what do you think girls in a school without boys talk about?’

“Boys, of course.”

“You’re right, and mostly they talk about the things they’ve done with boys. They talk a lot about them fondling their breasts and their pus; er, vaginas; jerking boys off and doing this.” I looked down just as she opened her mouth to lick around my cock’s head. She went around twice then tested her tongue in my pee hole. “Is this where your stuff came from?”

“Yes. You probably know that women have two separate channels; the urethra for urine and the vagina for fun.”

She looked up, shaking her head and laughing. “You’re terrible! Is it really that much fun?”

“No; it’s a hell of a lot more. It’s the most fun thing I’ve ever done, but more than that is the intimacy; the sharing between two people. Of course, not everyone makes love. Some people just; .”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, but what makes it special is when two people really care for each other.”

“You sound as though you’ve had that kind of relationship.”

“I did; last year, but her dad got transferred to Seattle and that was the end of that. We liked each other a lot, but I don’t know if it would have become love.”

“I’m sorry.”

I looked straight into her eyes as I whispered, “I’m not. If I was still with her it’s likely I would never have met you.” I was silent then, but it was enough. Barbara knew how I felt about her and I knew how she felt about me.

Her hand was slowing, making its way up and down my shaft the entire time, until she stopped suddenly. “You know, Jack, this is nothing like I imagined. The skin here is so soft and smooth and it’s loose so when I stroke you it moves with my hand.”

“I think that’s to prevent friction burns on the skin although that doesn’t always work.”

“Hmmm; maybe, but up here on the head it’s so spongy. Why?”

“Truthfully, I have no idea. Maybe so when I push into you it doesn’t hurt your cervix too badly. I understand that can be painful.”

Barbara laughed. “I wouldn’t know. Maybe someday, but not tonight; I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t think either of us is quite ready for that; not if we want a real meaningful relationship. We can take care of each other much like we did last night.” I leaned forward to kiss her again as her stroking resumed. I slid into the passenger seat and pulled her up to sit at my left. Her hand had never left my cock as she moved and now she was in perfect position. My left hand around her neck and shoulders attended to her nipples; it was large enough to cover both at the same time while my right attended to business between Barbara’s legs.

My hands are huge and powerful, but I could and would be gentle and loving as I began to lightly rub her labia. I stayed there for more than five minutes while Barbara and I kissed, swapping spit and wrestling with our tongues. I must have been getting to Barbara because she slid forward on the seat, spreading her legs even wider to increase my access to her core. I responded by slowly pushing my finger into her tunnel. Knowing that she was a virgin I moved with the utmost care.

Now, I’ve fingered roughly a dozen girls, but none of them had been as responsive as Barbara was. She moaned in rapture the second that my finger entered her and then she began to move on my finger, essentially fucking herself on my digit. My thumb moved naturally up to her clit and I was momentarily shocked. I had licked her last night, but my tongue; other than taste; is hardly the most discerning part of my body. Now that I was feeling her clit I realized that it was much bigger than I had thought. It felt as though it was at least an inch long and roughly half as wide as it protruded from its protective hood

I rolled it as I did her nipples. She came immediately, her left hand tightly gripping my head as her right went crazy on my cock. There was no way that I could resist and, as she was coming down, I shot my first thick rope of viscous white semen almost three feet into the air. It landed on Barbara’s chest and abdomen. Five more times my cock erupted, every drop finding its way onto her sensitive skin.

She fell back onto the seat, her breathing deep and irregular and rapid. I watched in amazement as she rubbed my semen into her skin. She looked up into my eyes and I could see her love, just as I prayed she could see the love in mine. Then, suddenly, the mood was lost and Barbara laughed. “I have to say, Jack; that was amazing. What you did to me was something; it was more than I could ever imagine. You weren’t kidding when you said it would get all over the place. I guess that’s what it will do in my cunny.”

Then she stopped, realizing what she had just said even though we both knew that she wasn’t anywhere near ready. This was 1960, after all, and most girls expected to be virgins right up until the day they wed.

I held her close then whispered, “Aren’t you cold?”

“No, I have my; I have you to keep me warm.”

“All the same, I think we need to get dressed.” I started the car to activate the heater then leaned over the seat to retrieve our clothes. Dressing was actually funny. I was holding her bra when I told her, “I think this is yours.”

“I should hope so. You have a big chest, but I doubt you’ll ever need a bra.” We laughed as we wriggled around, pulling shirts and sweaters down and pants up. Finally, after almost ten minutes we were actually presentable.

Barbara had her head resting against my chest when she looked up at me and asked, “Jack; are we going steady?”

I couldn’t stifle a little chuckle. “Well; I can’t speak for you, but I am and I think I have been ever since I stopped you from falling.”

Barbara responded by punching me in the chest. It was just a little one, more to get my attention than anything else. “How can a person who is so smart in most respects be so dumb about a relationship?”

“It’s a guy thing,” I replied, a deadpan expression on my face. “I think it’s one of the few genes on the Y-chromosome, but I’m glad you’re willing.”

“Not willing, Jack; eager. Now, what do you say we stop talking and; .” That was all she had to say.

I had a little helper when I picked Barbara up for church the following morning. Carole ran into the apartment the second Barbara stepped out of her room. She bent at the waist to hug my little sister then, holding her hand, walked up to me, kissing my cheek. We said good-bye to the Gleason’s and walked down to my car. “J.J. told me we’re going on a trip after breakfast, Barbara.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a trip, but we are driving to my school and then to Jack’s. It’s practice for Tuesday so I can see Jack play then.”

“You can sit next to me. I’ll save a space for you,” Carole replied enthusiastically. Barbara kissed Carole’s cheek and we walked down the stairs to my car.

We got to the church early enough that Barbara and Carole could go to confession, something I never did. If I was going to confess my sins I was going to do it straight to God, but; personally; I thought the practice was silly, especially when everyone knew that there were so-called sins that were certain to be repeated week after week after week. Anyway, we all went to receive communion, even me. Not twenty minutes later we were seated in a booth at the diner.

Barbara and Carole sat next to each other and I had to laugh at how easily Barbara had won my sister over. I waited until we had ordered before telling Carole to explain why she was with us this morning. “What are you going to do for Christmas, Barbara? We talked about that last night at dinner and we all want you to do it with our family.”

“Who is ‘we all?’”

“Our whole family; we all want you to join us. We always go to Midnight Mass then open our presents when we get home. I bought you a present.”

“That’s nice, Carole. Barbara bought one for you, too.” Barbara looked at me in surprise and I nodded just slightly when Carole’s attention turned to her. “I’ve seen the present and I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“You can stay overnight, too. You can sleep in my bed in my room.” I explained how all three of my sisters were involved in girl scouts and how they all had sleeping bags. “Yeah,” Carole added. “I’ve slept there plenty of times like when Nana French comes to stay. Please!”

“Where will you be, Jack?”

“My room is the big family room behind the kitchen. When our parents knew that they were expecting they realized that we’d need another bedroom. The one Carole is in used to be mine and it’s really small; just enough room for a twin bed, desk, and dresser. It made sense for me to move downstairs, especially since I’ll be out of the house fairly soon. I didn’t say anything last night because Carole wanted to ask you. I know you need to spend some time with the Gleason’s so I was thinking why don’t we give them our present the afternoon of Christmas Eve?”

“Our present?”

“Yeah. Remember you told me that they wanted something, but couldn’t afford it.”

“Jack! You didn’t! That’s too expensive!”

“Barbara, you know I have plenty of money. I rarely spend it on myself although recently I’ve found a really good reason to spend some.” I was surprised when Barbara actually blushed. She agreed to talk it over with Mr. and Mrs. Gleason and let me know at Tuesday’s game.

After breakfast we loaded Carole into the rear seat then I walked Barbara over to the driver’s door. She hesitated for a second before reaching up to kiss me. A minute later she was cruising down the road, following the bus route to her high school in Yonkers. We drove past the entrance to Siwanoy Country Club; the road that led to my school; then on to Bronxville and Yonkers. All told the trip took us about thirty minutes with more than half the time from Pelham to the Siwanoy entrance. From there school was less than five minutes away.

We reversed course and, sure enough, Barbara made the return trip in less than fifteen minutes. I reminded her that there would likely be more traffic on Tuesday afternoon. From school she drove us to our house where Carole and I exited. Of course, Carole had to ask if Barbara was going to kiss me. She laughed as she replied, “What do you think?” Then she gripped my head strongly and placed me into a most enjoyable lip lock for almost a minute while Carole giggled. I closed the door behind her and stood watching as she backed out and drove away. Carole ran into the house to immediately tell my parents about the kiss and lending my car to Barbara. They didn’t say anything then, but I wasn’t surprised when they said they wanted to speak to me later that evening after my sisters were all in bed.

“Jack,” my father began just as I was about to shower and turn in. “Your mother and I would like to talk with you about your relationship with Barbara. I; we never thought you would lend a girl your car, especially one you’ve only known for a few weeks.”

“I understand your concern, Dad; Mom, so let me explain. I told you about the flash when I saw Barbara fall. I didn’t share the second flash I had that day That one was much longer and in vivid detail. It showed an elderly couple; mid-eighties, at least. They appeared to be in a hospital room with the woman in the bed. Even for that brief period their absolute love for each other was totally clear. The man was obviously me and the woman was clearly Barbara. I couldn’t tell if she was dying or just sick, but they had matching wedding bands.

“Since then I’ve had at least one flash every day, but mostly I would say two or three a day and they are all about our life together. I can tell you this; you’re going to be grandparents several times over and fairly soon. I’ve had plenty of other girlfriends, but Barbara will be my last.

“Last night she asked if we were going steady and we both agreed we were. I hope you like her because you’ll be seeing her a lot.”

“We do like her very much, Jack. We were only concerned. Have any of these flashes turned out to be false or misleading?”

“No, Mom; never. I think in this case they’re influenced by my feelings for her. Not only is she a beautiful young woman, but she’s a beautiful person; actually more beautiful than her physical being. Thanks for your concern, but I’m okay; actually much better than okay. If there’s nothing else I’m going to shower and go to bed.” I rose, kissed and hugged my mom and dad then disappeared to the back of the house.

The next two days; the last before a lengthy Christmas holiday; dragged like you wouldn’t believe. Finally, after what felt more like two months than two days I took the books I needed from my locker and walked straight to the team locker room to tape, dress, and go through my other revolting ritual. I felt as though my body had been turned inside out when I finally made my way to the court. I was pleased to see Barbara sitting with my family; right between Carole and Marie. She saw me look her way and smiled and waved. I smiled back then joined the layup line with my teammates.

Gorton was a big high school in Yonkers; much bigger than we were; and they’d had a long line of superior players like Jimmy Albin who had been All-County with me last year. I knew he wouldn’t make it this year, our last, because he had succumbed to the temptations of cocaine. I told him when we shook hands, “Jimmy, you need to get off that shit before it kills you.” He glared at me in response then we went out and cleaned their clocks. I had a game like the one with New Rochelle except that the team didn’t need to run the offense through me every time. Still, the basket seemed to be as big as the ocean. I couldn’t and didn’t miss, and when I did it was because I was fouled. We pressed and ran our fast break off every steal, turnover, and rebound, running up the score like no game I’ve ever known. We scored 63 points in the first half alone. That was about 4.5 points per minute. We scored at an impossible rate, continuing with forty in the third quarter before Coach Darling replaced the starters with our subs.

I only took eighteen shots the entire game, a few below my normal number, but I made seventeen of them including fifteen in a row, and they weren’t all layups or dunks either. I wound up with thirty-nine and two of my teammates had more than twenty. The other two starters were also in double figures as we went over the one-hundred mark; all the way to 115; for the third time this season. As anticipated, Jimmy played poorly, turning the ball over numerous times and missing many more shots than he made.
Carole ran to me once the game had ended to hug me and kiss my sweaty face. She was holding on to one side of my face when Barbara hugged me on the other side and kissed my lips, holding it for almost a minute. I finally freed myself as Barbara and Carole laughed. They were holding hands when I hustled to the locker room and a much needed shower. I learned how much my parents had accepted my remarks and Barbara when I returned to the gym. Barbara and Carole were there waiting for me. Barbara had been invited to join us for dinner.

It was a fun time; sausage pizza and Italian salad; for all. Looking back I realized that it was the beginning of our serious relationship. I drove her home at 8:00, but didn’t return until 9:35. Barbara only lived ten minutes away, especially at that hour when there was little traffic. I swear, my mom laughed for five minutes when I walked in the door.

Christmas was on a Saturday so most businesses other than retail outlets were closed on Friday, Christmas Eve. I picked Barbara up at 11:00 and returned after lunch to her apartment in my Jeep, the rear compartment filled with a large box that I carried up the stairs to their apartment. Rather than unlock the door and walk in Barbara rang the doorbell so we could yell “Merry Christmas” when it was opened. I carried the large gift-wrapped box into the living room as Barbara hugged her foster parents, something I did only a few seconds later.

They had small gifts for us; a sweater for Barbara and short-sleeved dress shirt for me. We thanked them enthusiastically before they opened their large box. Barbara had told me that they had a TV, but it was old and barely worked. The box contained a “portable” set and a stand on wheels that could be moved from the living room to one of the bedrooms using a long antenna cable that we had also included. I spent half an hour putting the pieces of the stand together and moving the set into place. Finally, I connected the thin cable to the set and then to the wall socket and plugged it in. They were obviously well pleased and thanked us; mostly me; repeatedly before we had to leave around 5:15.

“That was really sweet of you, Jack. They’d never be able to afford a new TV.”

“They’re nice people and they deserve some of the better things in life. They’ve done a great job raising you. I’ll be forever grateful for that.” She gave me a funny look and was just about to say something, but apparently decided not to. She scooted over on the seat, gripped my head with her left hand and my cock in her right then she leaned forward until our lips met.

Her tongue was in my mouth a second later. My hands found strategic areas of her body, rubbing her labia until her panties were soaked. Reluctantly, we broke the kiss. We didn’t have the time and this certainly wasn’t the place. There were stores with lights and illuminated signs. We smiled, kissed again briefly, and I pulled out into traffic. Fifteen minutes later I parked across the street from my parents’ home.

Carole, of course, was hyper about Christmas just like any young child would be. I thought that Barbara’s presence was a positive calming factor on her. They sat on the living room floor and played War, Barbara obviously cringing for effect every time Carole won a War much to Carole’s amusement. I wasn’t at all surprised when Carole won two games. Nor was I surprised to see Barbara’s unending patience in dealing with my sister. It was just about six when my mother called us to the dining room table.

Our traditional Christmas Eve meal was nothing more than deli fare; boiled ham, deli-made roast beef, Swiss cheese, and a choice of white or deli rye bread. We had potato salad and something the deli called health salad which all of us loved and, of course a big kosher dill pickle. Naturally, we had a wide choice of drinks as long as that choice was milk. There was plenty to eat and clean-up was a breeze. Barbara and I placed all of the dishes into the dishwasher and started it.

Shower time is always challenging when you have six people; four females; and only two bathrooms. I stayed in the living room so Barbara, my sisters Marie and Carole could use my bathroom at the rear of the house. After her shower Barbara joined me in the living room dressed only in her robe, her hair still damp. She looked around and, realizing that my folks and siblings were all upstairs, flashed me a quick look at her tits. I’d seen them before, of course, but I still marveled at their faultless beauty. Their shape was sheer perfection in my opinion and they were actually bigger than I had originally thought. Her areolas were about the size of a quarter with large puffy nipples that were perfect for licking, suckling, and rolling between my fingers. I quickly kissed each one then her lips before she closed the robe and walked upstairs.

My room was deserted when I closed the door, but the bathroom was a mess with towels on the floor and basin. I rolled them up and threw them down the basement stairs where one of us would pick them up for the laundry, probably tomorrow. Yes, laundry was done even on Christmas day.
I had shaved and showered and dressed in my dark grey suit, starting long after the women, but finishing long before. Dad joined me in the living room and we shared a laugh. “Get used to it, Jack.” We laughed again then waited until 11:20 when we drove to church, wanting to find seats in one row for all of us. Carole joined Barbara and me for the short ride. Midnight Mass was always held in the church hall so I parked on the street just past it knowing that we could get away quickly once Mass was done.

Carole was on my right and holding my hand with Barbara holding the other as we carefully crossed the street, meeting the rest of the family at the hall’s entrance. We found a row of chairs near the rear and entered; Mom, Dad, my sister Marie, Angela, Carole, and finally; Barbara and me. I almost laughed when I looked down the row to see Barbara holding Carole’s hand, but stopped when she leaned forward to take mine, too.

We rose when the priest strode in to begin the Mass, but I also leaned across Barbara to kiss my little sister and wish her a merry Christmas before repeating with Barbara. “Merry Christmas,” I whispered, “the first of many.” She accepted my kiss on her cheek, but I could see the confusion on her face. I gave her another quick one and turned my attention to the Mass.

One of the good things about Mass in the church hall was that we didn’t have to kneel. Instead, we sat, leaning forward slightly. We took Communion, Carole again holding hands with Barbara and me. Seeing us together the priest must have thought we were a young family and paused briefly to bless us, much to Barbara’s and my amusement. We walked out into the cold December morning just before 1:00 a.m. and were home less than fifteen minutes later.

This was the time that we traditionally opened our presents from Santa and our family. I helped Dad and my sisters bring piles of wrapped gifts down from my parents’ bedroom to the living room where they were sorted into piles on the floor. Then I retreated to my closet, carrying a big armful of boxes that I placed mostly in front of Barbara before doing it all over again, this time with presents for my sisters and parents.

Barbara and I sat on a couch while the sisters took the floor and my parents sat on a large sectional in the opposite corner of their huge living room. I thought Carole would tear into her gifts as she always did, but instead she walked up to Barbara to ask her, “Will you open mine first? I bought it with my own money.” Barbara took the small package and shook it, causing Carole to laugh crazily. Then Barbara acted as though she couldn’t get it open and asked for Carole’s help which was eagerly given. Inside was a small spiral notebook, roughly 2.5 inches by four.

“I love it, Carole. It’s perfect for keeping my assignments and homework for school and pink is my favorite color. Thank you so much.” Then she hugged and kissed my sister who was thrilled. Looking across the room I could once again see how pleased my parents were.

Carole ran to her pile returning a few seconds later with a good-sized box with a label that said; to Carole from Barbara and J.J. “Will you help me open it, Barbara,” she asked. Barbara slipped to the floor and turned the box upside down before showing Carole where to tear the paper. Carole’s eyes were the size of saucers as she saw the present she had begged for only for weeks before this blessed day. Inside were bunny slippers and a special bunny robe. She had her shoes off in a blur of motion and the slippers and robe on almost as quickly before leaping forward to hug and thank Barbara and, as an obvious afterthought, me.

Everyone began to open their gifts. My first was a silk tie from Barbara. I thanked her with a kiss. Her first was a woolen cap and glove set in a red, black, and green plaid from my sister Angela. Next was a matching scarf from Marie, my middle sister. My parents had bought her a cardigan sweater; gray, and then she reached for my gifts. The first small box had come from Harry Winston, the world famous jeweler. She opened the box and gasped. “I know the good sisters won’t let you wear anything around your neck but a cross. It’s platinum and so is the chain. Platinum is a lot stronger than gold so it should last you a long time.”

“Are these real diamonds?”

“Yeah, and that’s a ruby in the center. I hope you like it.”

Her eyes showed pure adoration as she replied, “I love it. I really do. It’s beautiful.” She put it down to pick up the next box. She held it up and was about to shake it when I suggested that might be a really bad idea. Instead, she opened it carefully. Under the wrapping paper was another Harry Winston box. Her hand went to her mouth when she opened the box. The diamond and opal pendant with matching earrings and ring were truly exquisite. The opal was her October birthstone. “Oh, Jack! It’s too much! I bought you a tie!”

“Yeah, and I love it. I can’t wait to wear it. You spent within your means and so did I. Merry Christmas!” Barbara took one more look then closed the box and pulled me into a long kiss. As expected, Carole was standing next to us when she broke it. “Carole, there is something about your brother; .”

“Yeah, I love him, too.”

I had also bought her a knee-length coat made from water-resistant nylon with a hood and a removable merino wool lining for real warmth and two dresses suitable for a fancy dinner or party. All of the gifts , had been opened by 1:45 so my mother retired to the kitchen to start the oven for the rolls that were also a part of our traditional breakfast. We broke up for bed and sleep by 2:30. I kissed Barbara good night then she whispered, “I guess it really was my lucky day when you saved me, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,’ I thought. “It was my lucky day, too.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss me and that was when we heard the giggle just above the landing where the stairs turned ninety degrees before continuing to the second floor. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed,” I asked with a ferocity that all three of us knew I could never have toward my sister.

“I just wanted to kiss Barbara goodnight again,” Carole said with another giggle. Then she bounded down the stairs to hug and kiss my girlfriend for at least the tenth time. I scooped her up into my arms as she laughed again to hug her and give her a kiss complete with what was known at the time as a “Bronx cheer” in which my lips vibrated wetly onto her cheek. Carole claimed to hate it, but we both knew differently. I put her down and swatted her behind playfully as she finally ran all the way up the stairs.

“Finally,” I whispered. “I agree; it was a very lucky day for me, too. And, every day since has been just as lucky.” Barbara obviously agreed as she moved into my arms. This time there were no giggles, only the quiet sound of two pair of lips meeting in unbridled passion, my arms tightly around her body and hers wrapped almost as tightly around my neck. We held the kiss for almost five minutes before she whispered that she’d better go. She gave me a quick peck before ascending the stairs. I turned out the rest of the living room lights and moved to my room at the back of the house where I fell immediately into the deepest sleep.

Christmas day was always spent either trying out new toys or trying on new clothes although I did receive a great spinning reel and rod that I really wanted last year. I had Barbara go first, using my bathroom to give me a fashion show with her new coat, dresses, and sweater from my parents. She even tried out the new hat, gloves, and scarf from my sisters. I wasn’t at all surprised that everything fit, but Barbara was mystified until I explained about having several flashes that had told me everything I needed to know. Last of all she tried on her new jewelry. Everyone agreed that her opal and diamond set was exquisite and elegant simultaneously. “You can wear the set and one of the dresses on Tuesday.”

“Huh?”

“That’s when I’m taking you to see “Irma la Douce” and to dinner. I have basketball practice at 9:00, but you can come if you wish.”

“Are you going to; you know?”

I laughed. “No, that only happens before a game, thank God!” Everyone laughed then, even Barbara.

Then she asked, “What’s going to happen this afternoon?”

“We’re going to visit my mother’s parents and her family.”

“Don’t worry about learning everyone’s name,” Angela interrupted. “I can’t tell who half of them are either.”

“You’ll recognize my grandparents,” I continued. “That’ll be easy. Also, you’ll meet my Aunt Debbie and Uncle Dave. She’s my mother’s closest sister and a very good friend. She’s also my godmother so you’ll no doubt see her again. Then there are her sons; David, who’s my age; Kenny, who’s Angela’s age; and Brian, who’s roughly Marie’s age. You’ll also meet our cousin Richard and his parents. David, Kenny, Richard, and I usually go bowling as soon as we can get out of there which is right after we eat. For some reason Nanny Harris always makes a big turkey for everyone even though she’s almost ninety. Mom is the youngest of eight children; good Irish Catholics.” Barbara laughed and we all joined her.

Barbara and I spent more than an hour playing Chutes and Ladders with Carole. I realized then that she had missed out on all of the family interaction that I had always taken for granted. I was tired long before Barbara was and I thought that might be the reason why Carole liked her so much. Then I had a flash and realized that I was wrong. There was something that Barbara had that made Carole love her. Of course, her love for Barbara wasn’t of the romantic kind that I held for her. Watching her now interacting with Carole and Marie I understood completely even though I’m a guy and we’re all a little dense about stuff like this.

We showered and dressed; casual clothes; and left for my grandparents’ apartment at 3:00, my bowling balls in my trunk, Barbara next to me and my littlest sister in the back with her head securely between mine and Barbara’s. They lived on a main street in a not so great section of New Rochelle. In fact, they actually lived ON Main Street. I found a parking spot just down the block and we all clambered out of the car, my arms full of presents for our grandparents and for my Aunt and Uncle, the ones I actually knew.

After living with foster parents I was sure that Barbara was overwhelmed by the sea of people in the apartment. We had waited for our parents because it was just easier that way, mostly because I didn’t know everyone’s name and probably never would. Dad handled the gifts and Mom the introductions while I took the coats to the bedroom where I dropped them onto the bed.

My grandparents had what I had learned was a “railroad car” apartment. It was long and relatively narrow with the living room, parlor, bedroom, dining room, and kitchen in a straight line. There was but a single bathroom adjacent to the kitchen and, because the apartment occupied the entire side of the building there were plenty of windows for ventilation in the warm weather. I returned as quickly as possible to Barbara’s side and I would have taken her hand had two of my sisters not held them already. I shooed them away with a laugh and led Barbara to the dining room where I found my cousins. That was hardly a surprise. As much as I loved to eat there was no way I could keep up with David. All of my cousins attended Catholic high schools; David at Iona Prep, Kenny and Brian at Salesian; both in New Rochelle; and Richard somewhere else in the Bronx. We weren’t as close as the others, but we got along and I guessed that was enough. I introduced Barbara, noticing David’s obvious and lecherous interest. He was about to make a comment and had he done so it would have ruined his Christmas, for sure. He noticed the steely look in my eyes and returned to his turkey breast sandwich.

I helped Barbara to a plate with some white meat, stuffing, and mashed potatoes with gravy then assisted her to a seat. There were plenty around the large room. I grabbed the last drumstick and some stuffing. That would be more than enough. We ate and drank apple cider as Barbara got acquainted with my cousins. Half an hour later we all walked out the door having hugged my parents, grandparents, and my aunt and uncle; David’s and Kenny’s parents. They jumped into David’s beater, a 1950 Dodge coupe while we took my Olds, driving all the way to the lanes in Eastchester, just up the road from Albanese’s restaurant, the site of our first real date.

I knew we would have a wait for an open lane so we used the time to find shoes and a ball for Barbara and Kenny and Richard. David had his own. We had spent quite a few Saturday nights bowling together last year once we were old enough to drive, but not yet all that interested in dating.

There were five of us on but a single lane so three games took almost three hours. I had always enjoyed bowling with my cousins and today was no different except that most of my attention went to Barbara rather than beating David into oblivion. He was an excellent athlete and would have been better than me had I not been struck by lightning. He averaged almost 190, but I had two games over 225 and one of 197. Barbara broke 125 all three times, just edging out Richard who was clearly no athlete.

We left just after eight that night, turning down David’s invitation to stay for a pizza in the bowling alley snack bar. Barbara and I had something else in mind. I was sure that my cousins knew what was afoot, but wisely had kept their mouths closed. I was bigger and stronger than the three of them combined and they all knew that I’d never accept any kind of insult to her. It was fifteen minutes later that we found our usual spot at the end of the apartments. I had the engine off, but the radio on, and I was glad that the holiday music had come to an end. I had always found it fun at first, but I was more than tired of it long before Christmas had arrived.

Barbara was in my embrace as soon as the engine was off, not that she had far to go. She was almost in my lap all the way to what had become our favorite make-out spot. We kissed passionately for maybe five minutes before Barbara’s hands found my belt, opening my zipper and pants in less than a minute. I raised my hips so she could lower both pants and briefs easily. My ass’s first contact with the bare leather seat was shocking; that was for sure, but Barbara’s warm hands on my cock and balls heated me up in a hurry.

I broke my embrace to remove her jacket then her blouse and bra. She helped with her slacks and panties and less than two minutes later we were totally naked writhing around in my front seat. I knew we weren’t going to have sex; not penetrative genital sex, but we would both cum sometime in the near future, hopefully more than once for her. The sensation of her velvet skin against mine was almost more than I could handle.

I lay on the seat under Barbara’s beautiful and sexy body with her perfect breasts, flat tummy and graceful hips all within my reach. My cock was hard and oozing pre-cum trapped between our bodies. We kissed again, dry humping each other until Barbara sat up, reaching for the glove box and my dwindling supply of condoms. I joined her sitting just as she rolled the latex shield down my shaft. “It’s really amazing the things I’ve learned since I began dating you,” she joked. Then she kissed me quickly and began her stroking.

Her delicate hands with their long fingers were surprisingly strong as they wrapped around me. Tighter and tighter she gripped me as her hands moved with blurring speed. I came suddenly with a powerful thrust of my hips. Five more times semen exploded into the condom’s tip until it was filled to overflowing. I fell back onto the seat exhausted from my sweet ordeal, watching as Barbara expertly slipped the used condom from my wilting organ. A few seconds later she threw the gooey mess out the window and then surprised the hell out of me by extending her tongue to my cock’s tip. “Hmmm. Some of the girls at school have talked about the taste. It’s not as bad as I thought; a little salty, but not bad.”

“I’m glad you approve. I love the way you taste, by the way, and I plan a lengthy sample in a few minutes; my final Christmas present to you.” Barbara said nothing, but then she didn’t have to. Her smile said it all. I waited about five minutes before lifting her and laying her back onto the seat with her long shapely legs on either side of my head.

I began by gently kissing each of her silken thighs from her knees to her labia. Up and down I went, teasing her mercilessly until she was shaking in rabid anticipation. Long strokes with the broad of my tongue enflamed her labia until I gently penetrated her. I was using my tongue as I would a vacuum to slurp up as much of her nectar as possible. It was a losing battle in that regard, though. She was producing faster than any machine, let alone a human tongue, could possibly remove. She was shaking wildly and moaning almost non-stop by the time my mouth moved up to its ultimate target, her hot swollen bud.

Sucking it between my teeth brought her to her first explosive orgasm as she screamed into the night. She came again after only two minutes’ gnawing, leaving her a panting groaning mess. I held her closely, but tenderly, warming her with my body at first then pulling her clothes from the back seat and helping her to dress even though I did most of the work. I threw my clothes on quickly then relaxed, listening to the radio and talking quietly with and loving Barbara.

I drove her home an hour later. My arms were full of her presents when she reached up for our final kiss of the day. “Thank you, Jack, for the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I never realized how much I missed having a family like yours. Good night, Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I kissed her again then stood back while she opened the door. I carried her gifts in and placed them carefully under the tree. After a quick kiss, I was gone. It had been a long, but wonderful day for me, too.

By agreement Barbara and I skipped Mass Sunday morning. I always thought that once a weekend was enough and, apparently, she agreed. Besides, Christmas had been an exhausting day. I did pick her up around 5:30 for dinner before a movie. Mr. and Mrs. Gleason thanked me again for their new TV telling me that they especially enjoyed watching it in bed.

They asked about my family’s Christmas so I answered whatever questions they had. Barbara had told them a lot, but there was always room for more. They were especially interested in hearing about my sisters. I was just telling them about Carole when Barbara walked out of her room to kiss my cheek. We left a minute later. I drove her to a restaurant that my parents liked. It was nothing special, but the food was decent and the setting was fairly elegant.

We sat at a banquette which we both enjoyed quite a bit more than either a table or a booth because we had plenty of room and our hands could roam with almost total privacy. I only knew that she had me hard before the salads had been delivered and she kept me that way until I paid the check with my credit card. I’d gotten the card at the suggestion of my financial manager; the person who saw to it that my bills were paid on time and that I had enough cash for my normal expenses. For that I had purchased a New York Tax-Free Bond Mutual Fund that brought me just over two percent on about $150,000; more winnings from the track over the past two years. Now that I was eighteen I’d be going even more often and I’d take Barbara with me.

The vacation was almost magical. I picked Barbara up at her apartment by 8:30 every morning, arriving at school just in time to tape and dress for practice. I was done and showered and we were out the door by 11:40. Then it was a quick lunch, usually at a nearby deli or Italian restaurant, before driving to the Mount Vernon Public Library just two blocks from my dad’s shop. We both had long research papers that were due about a week after the break had ended. The one exception was Tuesday when Barbara and I carried her dress and shoes to my car in the morning and we showered and dressed at my home in preparation for our train ride into Manhattan for dinner and the play.

We went to a Chinese restaurant only a few blocks off Broadway. Because we were early we enjoyed a leisurely stroll after dinner to the theater. “That was the best Chinese food I’ve ever had, Jack. Mostly, all I’ve ever had was chicken chow Mein. I really liked that yellow rice with the pork in it.”
Barbara’s hand was looped in my arm as we walked. Manhattan is pretty safe, but that didn’t stop me from keeping an eye out for trouble which, fortunately, stayed away. We walked up to the Will Call window more than thirty minutes before curtain. I checked our coats and led Barbara to the bar. New York at the time was the only state I knew of where the minimum age for drinking was eighteen and not twenty-one. “Why don’t we celebrate with a glass of champagne?”

Barbara shot me a wry smile as she asked, “Oh; and what might we be celebrating?”

“How about my lucky day at Mass?” We both knew when that was; the day that we’d met and I’d saved her life. We both had our ID’s out as we approached the bar. They were checked carefully, even to the point of asking our addresses and dates of birth. We walked away, flute in hand, once I had paid.

“To lucky days; for both of us,” Barbara said as we touched glasses and took our first sip. I rarely drank alcohol; booze and sports didn’t mix well; and Barbara had never asked so Coke or Pepsi had been our norm until this moment. I wasn’t overly fond of champagne, but it fit the bill this evening. Looking over the rim of the flute I took note once again of Barbara’s beauty. Her hair shone like moonlight on the waves of Long Island Sound near my parent’s bungalow. The iridescence of the opals and sparkle of the diamonds on her necklace and earrings was matched only by the twinkle of her eyes.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only person to think so because an older woman stopped by to comment, “Your jewelry is really striking, my dear.”

“Thank you, ma’am; they were a Christmas present from my boyfriend.”

“Well, he must really love you to buy such a beautiful gift.” She smiled as I nodded in reply. We finished our drinks and walked into the theater to find our seats. Two years later we went to see the movie and we laughed just as hard as we did that evening. There were times when we both had tears in our eyes. That was just how hard we were laughing.

We caught a cab after the play and were back in Pelham just in time for the submarine races. This time I took care of Barbara first; her orgasms leaving her semi-conscious when my teeth finally released her swollen clit. I caressed her lovingly; stroking her cheek and running my fingers through her hair; as she slowly recovered. It was some time later that she spoke. “I never dreamed that a boy would want to have my; well, you know, in his mouth just as I never thought I’d want to have his in mine. But; I think I’d like to try it even if I have no idea what I should do.”

“Just don’t use your teeth, okay?” She smiled in the dim light as she leaned forward. Her tongue found the helmet of my cock, swirling around it several times before lowering her entire mouth to my shaft. She used her hand to gently stroke me as her head bobbed up and down, her tongue teasingly washing me with every stroke. Damn! For an amateur she was doing one hell of a job.

I doubted that she was ready to swallow so I gave her plenty of advance notice. “I’m getting close, Barbara. You need to move.” She did; just in time, directing my spray to her gorgeous breasts. The thick viscous liquid oozed slowly down their gentle slope. I was about to reach into the back seat for a towel I’d brought for exactly this reason when Barbara shocked the daylights out of me. Using her finger she scooped a dollop of semen from her left breast, licking it clean a second later. I sat there in utter amazement as all the semen on her chest found its way to her stomach.
She laughed when she saw the expression on my face. “I told you I thought the taste was interesting, didn’t I? I find I like it even more than I thought. I think next time I’ll just take all of it into my mouth. Would you like that?”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Take a wild guess!” Barbara joined me, laughing crazily until we realized how loud we were. We dried ourselves with the towel and dressed. My watch said 12:30 exactly when she walked into her apartment.

Friday was New Year’s Eve and after practice we went to my house for lunch and relaxing before dressing for dinner and a party at teammate Richie’s house for everyone in our senior class. There were only sixty-five of us, after all.

Dad and Mom reminded me to be extra careful driving. I would be, knowing how many drunks would be on the road. I drove Barbara to an excellent seafood restaurant in Larchmont with windows that overlooked the harbor on Long Island Sound. We sat at a table facing the water, holding hands through most of the meal which was exquisite. Barbara had a platter of fried shrimp while I had grilled scallops with an order of fries that we split. Topping off the meal was a delightful Coca-Cola on ice in lieu of wine. We also shared a hefty slice of cheesecake for dessert, leaving at 8:25 for the half-hour trip to Richie’s house only two blocks from the high school.

I drove through two traffic stops on the fifteen mile trip even though I was driving five miles below the speed limit both times. My license and registration were checked both times and I was asked if I had anything to drink that evening. I shared a laugh with the officers both times when I replied, “Does Coke count?” I was relieved when I pulled to the curb near Richie’s house. I’d managed to elude the drunks so far. Hopefully, I’d have the same success later when I took Barbara home. She was staying over, sleeping again in Carole’s bed.

I’d been to Richie’s several times before, either for a party or just to watch a football game with our mutual friends. In some respects his house reminded me of my grandparents’ apartment. It was long and relatively narrow. There were living and dining rooms and a family room all in a row with the kitchen just off to the left about two-thirds of the way back. Most of my classmates were already there when we arrived and I was pleased to see that Richie’s girlfriend Marlene remembered Barbara, welcoming her with Richie and introducing her to our classmates while I dropped our coats behind the couch along with about forty others.

We danced for about an hour, mostly slow ones with my arms around her waist and hers around my neck and helped ourselves to Cokes and pretzels, mostly having a wonderful time, until Barbara excused herself to use the bathroom. It was in the rear of the house and on the way back she was grabbed and groped by someone who shouldn’t have been there. She didn’t scream, but she did protest loudly enough that I heard her and, when I saw who had groped her, my expression turned to steel. Luckily, Marlene had also heard Barbara and she warned Richie and my teammates. Two of them intercepted me while two more walked back to have a polite word with Kenny Maples. Meanwhile, Marlene had rescued Barbara and was leading her back to me. Kenny took one look toward the front of the house and, seeing my anger, took off at the run; out the back door and gone.

I hugged Barbara once she assured me that she was okay. “I was shocked more than anything else. I couldn’t believe that a friend of yours would do that.”

“He’s no friend of Freak’s or mine either,” Eli told her. “You must know how protective he is with his sisters. Well, last year sometime in the fall, I think, we walked into the cafeteria only to find Marie crying. It seems that asshole Kenny had stolen her ice cream money. We found out later that he’d been doing’ it with all the junior high kids since the opening of school. We wanted to take care of him right then, but the teachers have a table in the cafeteria and we couldn’t get near him without getting into trouble.

“Then at the end of the day Freak and I told a bit of a white lie to get out of class a few minutes early. We were waiting at the back door when he walked through. Freak grabbed him by the throat and walked him behind the auditorium. There are some high bushes there and we went behind one of the biggest. Then Freak told Kenny that he wanted his sister’s ice cream money back. Stupid Kenny just laughed and told us that he had already eaten it.

“I still remember exactly what Freak said. ‘No problem, asshole.’ Then he punched that asshole in the stomach so hard that he lifted him more than a foot in the air. He threw up all over his shirt, pants, and shoes by the time he fell into a heap. ‘Told you I’d get it back; and let me tell you this; you’ll think this was a love tap if I ever hear that you’ve stolen some kid’s lunch money again. I’ll break every bone in your body.’ Those were his exact words. Turned out there was no need; stupid Kenny quit school a week later. What a loser!”

Then Eli turned to me. “You need to leave him to us. Elmer, Tony, and I live in the Village and we have a lot of friends there. We know you’d like to kill that bastard, but if he’s hurt the cops will come looking for you. We’ll take care of him. That’s a promise. There are plenty of us who hate that jerk and mostly for very good reasons.” I looked at Tony and Elmer and they nodded. They were good friends and I knew their word was as good as gold. Barbara thanked them and especially Marlene and we went back to dancing.

Barbara was in my arms when the ball in Times Square fell. Our kiss lasted for more than five minutes. I hadn’t yet told Barbara that I loved her, but I was sure that she knew, just as everyone there knew, as well. I tried to shake hands with my buddies, but they laughed. “You’re a little late, Freak; like five minutes.” I was sure that my face was a little red, but Barbara didn’t care. She just grabbed me again and pulled me into another long deep kiss.

We joined my classmates for a late snack; one of those six-foot heroes; with some potato and macaroni salad. Barbara and I left just before two, driving carefully past the apartments where Barbara stripped me efficiently in only a minute. It wasn’t long before she joined me. I recall thinking at the time that I’d never tire of feeling her incredible skin against mine. We kissed for a few minutes as our hands explored until I moved down to the seat, pulling Barbara on top of me.

She spun around, presenting her sweet cunny to my lips as she took my entire cock deeply into her mouth and throat. Up and down she moved as her tongue wrapped its way around my shaft. For a total amateur she was doing an incredible job on me, just as I was trying my best with her. I kissed her several times, eliciting a series of soft moans that died in her cock-stuffed mouth. The way she was sucking and licking my cock told me that I needed to get cracking. I had just penetrated her when she began to rub my balls.

After fucking her that way for a few minutes she startled me by whispering, “Cum for me, Jack. Cum in my mouth. I want to feel and taste you when you explode. Please!” Normally, I’d try to slow down my reactions, but it was hard to deny Barbara. I decided to let nature take its course and cum when I was ready; when the orgasm hit.

Rather than nosh on Barbara’s clit I decided instead to tease her by running my tongue over her hard swollen bud as lightly as humanly possible. Her reaction was just the opposite of what I had anticipated. I could feel the waves of pleasure as they coursed through her body. She came quickly and, as she did, my face got a bath. About twenty seconds later it happened again. Her body shook wildly and I was again bathed in her aromatic juice. All told I continued for more than a minute and Barbara came seven times if I counted correctly. My face was covered in her goo. All this time she had been working my cock like a pro and her perseverance paid off. Barbara got her New Year’s wish as I flooded her mouth and throat with my jizz. I couldn’t speak for her, but I was exhausted. She turned around and lay on top of me, a huge smile on her face. That’s when she noticed my face.

NEXT: Trouble in paradise.

To be continued, by Senor Longo.

 The man with two birthdays.

Based on a post by Senor Longo. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

PROLOGUE.

My legal name is John; John Joseph French, but nobody who knows me; not even a single teacher; calls me by my legal name. My family calls me Jack or JJ. All my friends call me Freak. It’s not an insult. It’s a term of endearment. After all, how many people do you know who celebrate two birthdays? I have my original one; November 12, 1942; and I have my “Re-birthday”; March 27, 1951. It was the day I almost died. It was the day I was reborn. It was the day my life changed forever.

December, 1960.

My story doesn’t start here, but this is where I’ve decided to begin; in church. It was the first week in December and a surprise blizzard had dumped almost ten inches of wet sloppy snow overnight. Luckily, I had a 4-wheel drive Jeep with big knobby tires that were great for snow or for driving on the beach, something I did occasionally in the summer at my parents’ bungalow on Long Island. It was slow going over the eight miles from my home to St. Catharine’s, but I still arrived in plenty of time to get a seat on the end of the pew.

I had been there maybe fifteen minutes when I stood for the start of the Mass. I couldn’t help but notice the striking young woman standing just behind me along the wall. Looking down I could see from the puddles at her feet that her shoes were soaked through. She had walked a long way in the snow. I’m a gentleman so I exited the row and pointed her to my seat. “Thank you,” she whispered with a smile.

I tried to pay attention to the priest, but, truthfully, I found the girl much more interesting. As I concentrated on her I realized that this was her lucky day, but I had to be in the right place at the right time. Just before the service ended I walked quickly to the stairs at the main entrance where I pulled two carefully folded objects from my coat pocket. They were Korkers; rubber soles that strap to one’s special shoes or boots with numerous sharp metal studs that give incredible traction on the slickest surfaces. Once they were in place I stepped to the icy sidewalk and waited.

It was some five minutes before she appeared with the throng of worshipers who signaled that Mass had ended. I stepped in closely behind her, grabbing her firmly under her arms even before her shoes slipped on a small patch of ice and she fell backwards. Had I not been here she would have landed on her back, smashing the rear of her skull onto the sharp-edged concrete below. She would have died from a brain hemorrhage long before any emergency services would be able to reach her. Instead, I helped her to her feet and suggested she take my arm.

“I noticed your shoes were wet in church. Once you came out into the freezing temperature those wet soles turned to ice. You’re lucky I’m an observant person. You might have been badly hurt.” We had walked almost half a block before I spoke again. “How far do you have to walk?”
“Just to the other side of Lincoln Avenue.”

“Okay; that’s more than a mile. I think I’d better give you a ride. You’ll be a lot safer in my Jeep than on these sidewalks. I’m sure that a lot of them aren’t shoveled yet.”

“You’re right. I wish I’d worn my boots, but I was almost halfway here when I realized how wet my feet were becoming. I would have been really late if I had returned to my home. I don’t know you. I don’t even know your name.”

“I’ll tell you everything at the diner. I’m sure you’re hungry. You received communion so you haven’t eaten anything since last night. I’ll give you a dime so you can phone your family as soon as we arrive. Incidentally, if I hadn’t caught you when you fell you would have hit your head on the concrete and died. I’ll explain how I know that, too. Okay, there’s my Jeep; that green monstrosity at the corner. I don’t think you’ll be able to get in on the other side because of the snow, so.” I bent over, lifted her legs with my left arm and placed her gently onto the passenger seat.
I was in my seat when I pointed to the shoulder/lap belt. “You might want to use the seatbelt. They’ll be mandatory in another twenty years. It will protect you if we have an accident. I’m a safe and careful driver, but I can’t account for others, especially in snow and ice.” I pulled the Jeep out, driving slowly and turning right at the corner. Three minutes later I pulled into the diner’s parking lot. We had just stepped into the restaurant when the waitress directed us to a booth.

“Here’s the dime I promised you, but before you go I want to show you something. Are you having coffee?” I continued when she nodded. “Then you’ll probably want some sugar.” I held my hand on the table and a second later the sugar dispenser slid into it.

“How; how did you do that?”

“Make your call. I’ll explain everything while we wait for our breakfast; or lunch if you prefer.” She was shaking her head in dismay as she walked to the phone booth. I watched her dial and speak briefly before returning to the seat facing me. She sat quietly as I began my tale.

“It happened while I was on vacation with my family in Florida. I was in third grade and playing hide and seek with my two cousins and my two sisters. I was “it” and had my head resting against a palm tree while I counted to 100. A storm blew in from the ocean; lightning struck the tree running through my brain and down my arm to my elbow.” I opened my collar and turned around so she could see the inch-wide burn scar. “That runs all the way to my elbow. It used to be on top of my head, too, but I took care of it so I’d at least look normal.”

“But, you’re not, are you?”

“No, I am definitely not.” The waitress gave us menus and we ordered omelets with coffee for her and hot chocolate for me. “I woke up a day later in the hospital. I’m sure you’ve heard that opposite charges attract and like charges repel. Well, for a split fraction of a second that tree and I had incredible negative charges. Being lighter and not stuck in the ground I was repelled; forty feet, I was told; into the side of a pickup truck.

“When I woke up I still had my eyes closed and when I tried to figure out what was wrong with me I got the shock of my life. Starting at my head I could essentially ‘see’ inside my body. I actually saw the two cracked ribs, broken bone in my forearm, and broken shin in addition to a load of bruises and cuts on my head, body, and legs. Once I knew that I wondered if I could also make my body and bones heal faster than they would normally.”
“I’ll bet you could.”

“Yeah, I could and I did. I’ve read recently that human beings only use about ten percent of their brain’s capacity. I should have been killed, but instead, something happened when I was struck that changed my brain. I had a high IQ before, but I’ve been tested more than a dozen times since and my score is always off the chart. Of course, that alone is no sure sign of success. That takes a lot more like motivation and willingness to work hard.

“Oh; I’m so sorry. I just realized that I never introduced myself; I’m John; John Joseph French, but please call me Jack. I live in Chester Heights; know where that is?” I continued when she nodded. “I go to Tuckahoe High School. I’m a senior there, just turned eighteen three weeks ago.”

Her name was Barbara; Barbara Millard She was an orphan; her parents killed in an auto accident when she was three; and she had lived with the same foster parents, the Gleason’s, ever since. She was also eighteen; roughly a month older than me and a senior at a Catholic girls’ school run by the Archdiocese of New York in nearby Yonkers.

“Okay, there’s a lot more to tell so I’d better get back to it. I had been in the hospital about three weeks. My dad had driven my sisters back to New York while my mom stayed in Florida with me. That was when I told the doctor that I was completely healed and I wanted the casts removed. Of course, he scoffed so I suggested a deal. If he would have my ribs x-rayed and they weren’t healed I’d stay in the casts. But, if they were healed I wanted x-rays of my arm and leg. You already know what happened. I was completely healed although the doctor was mystified. I couldn’t tell him how it had occurred. He would never have believed me.

“I love to read the newspaper, especially the sports section. I noticed almost immediately that certain teams seemed to jump off the page. Then my parents told us that they were going to Yonkers Raceway on Friday night. They did that at least once a year with their group of friends. Monday night I looked at the newspaper’s racing form and five of the horse names stood out. The following day I checked and they all had won.”

“You could make a fortune with that.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled, “my thinking exactly.” I paused while our eggs and sides of bacon were served. “On Wednesday night I gave my father a sealed envelope and asked him to sign his name across the seals then I put it onto the refrigerator door. The following afternoon I brought in the racing results and opened the envelope in my parents’ presence. They were shocked that all of my predictions were correct. Then I gave them my predictions for Friday when they were going to the track along with two dollars from my allowance and directions for placing two bets for me.

The first was a horse in the third race with high odds. It went off at 18 to 1 and paid $38.20. The second bet was a parlay; the entire thirty-eight bucks; on the Perfecta in the ninth race where the odds would be roughly 4500 to 1. I also gave them three other races in between. I explained that I did this so they would trust my predictions. I know my dad; he’d go to the track and not bet for me, telling me he forgot if I didn’t prove that I knew what I was doing. I thought it was funny at the time that I couldn’t see the results of every race and that’s never changed. I can usually see five or six out of the total. The same is true with baseball or football schedules.

“Long story short, everyone bet on my choices, but fortunately not so much as to create suspicion. My mom and dad and all of their friends bet ten bucks on the perfecta, winning almost $46,000 and I won almost four times as much. I took half knowing that my parents would have to pay income tax on their winnings and placed $10,000 into a bank account for college then invested the rest through a friend’s father who is a stockbroker.”

“Did that work with stocks, too?” My smile answered the question for her.
“Needless to say, my parents went to the track more often and my personal money has grown into a fortune. My friend’s father no longer charges for my purchases and sales, but he does use the information with his other clients so he makes plenty that way. Then again, so do all of the brokers at Merrill Lynch. I actually have a contract that they have to make my trades first; before releasing the information to the other brokers.

“When all this happened I was a tall skinny and bookish kid, but I loved sports even though I was terrible so I wondered if I could make myself into an athlete. For me the obvious place to do that was the public library where I could learn all about the traits and skills that great athletes have. I was able to make myself strong, fast, and quick. I love basketball so I became ambidextrous and grew my hands and feet and body to what I thought would be perfect for playing and I developed excellent depth perception. Then one day I found a set of New York State law books in the library’s research section. That’s where I learned that eighth graders could play high school sports with the principal’s permission. I was in sixth grade then so I had time to gradually improve my body and my skills. I can dribble, shoot, and even write with both hands. I can run like the wind and jump like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I think I would believe even though what you’ve told me is unbelievable.”

“Everyone in school thought I was crazy for trying out in eighth grade, but I made the team. Our first games were on a Friday night; junior varsity at six and varsity at eight. I didn’t start the JV game, but I went in midway through the second quarter and played very well so the coach told me that he wanted me to suit up for the varsity game. I had to throw my sweaty uniform back on and run out to the gym to tell my parents.

“I did get to play when our first two centers got into foul trouble and again I played well, but we lost the game. The following Tuesday I played more and we won. The next day I was promoted to first team. I’ve been there ever since and we never lost again, winning four straight state championships.”

“Did you win any awards? Is that what they’re called?”

I smiled. “Yeah; ’awards’ is good. I made second team all-league in eighth, first team all-league and all-county ever since and last year I was All-State and All-American, too. I’m sorry, I’ve monopolized the conversation.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s been fascinating. You probably should have been killed, but you weren’t and what’s happened to you has been a miracle.”

“I guess it has. Are you in any school activities?”

Barbara laughed. “I have a bunch of nuns for teachers. What do you think? Besides, I have to take three buses just to get to school. That takes me more than an hour each way. I ride the red bus to Chester Heights then the blue bus to Bronxville and then transfer again to Yonkers.”

“I can empathize. My dad told me I could try out for sports, but I’d have to walk home every day. It’s about three and a half miles and after running my ass off for two hours it’s a long walk, especially in the winter when it’s dark and cold. Sometimes I walked across the Siwanoy golf course and the parkway. It’s shorter that way, but last year I got my senior license and now I can drive which is good because I play football and baseball, too, and the baseball field is down in the Village of Tuckahoe. There’s a bus back to school, but it takes almost half an hour to get there.”

“You know, I’ve never even been to a high school game of any kind.”

“Would you like to come with me Friday night? It’s going to be a big game. Tuckahoe is a really small school and we’re going to play New Rochelle. My mom went there and she told me that they had more than 3,000 students then. I think they still have that or more. They’ll be a real challenge. They want to break our win streak. It’s up to 105 now; a state record.”

“I’d love to go. What time?”

“I’d have to pick you up at about 5:45 so have a bite to eat first. I’ll take you out for pizza after if you like.”

“That sounds great. What should I wear?”

“Jeans or slacks and a blouse, but nothing too heavy because the gym is always jammed and it gets hot.” She nodded her agreement and we rose from the booth. I paid the bill, tipped the waitress and led Barbara back to my Jeep. I drove her around the block where she showed me to the entrance to her apartment. She lived on the second floor above a number of retail stores; a far cry from where I lived in a big house on a big lot on a quiet street.

I phoned Barbara on Wednesday evening as we had agreed. She had read about our Tuesday game against Concordia, a Lutheran private school only about two miles from mine. We destroyed them, 96 to 40. We had an outstanding group of seniors. Any one of the five of us could score double figures at any time and we all did in this game and we also had two skilled subs with good experience. I’d had 40 and I only played three quarters. Our point guard, Tony, had twenty-two assists, but there was nothing unusual about that.

We spoke for almost an hour and I did get to speak briefly with her foster mother, Mrs. Gleason, who told me that Barbara was really looking forward to our date on Friday. I was looking forward to it, too. Most girls were dwarfed by my six feet six inch, two hundred and twenty pound frame and Barbara was no exception. I estimated her height at five feet nine inches and she was slender with medium-sized breasts and shapely hips. Her face was absolutely beautiful in my opinion; perfectly oval and symmetrical with sparkling blue eyes and a small nose; nicely framed by shoulder-length lustrous reddish brown hair. I was sure that I had a good hundred pounds on her. Looking back, I was sure I’d fallen in love at first sight.

The weather was cold and clear Friday night when I rang the bell at her apartment. An elderly woman I correctly assumed was Mrs. Gleason opened the door on the second floor. She greeted me warmly and smiled when I gave her the bouquet of flowers I had bought for her. I was met by Mr. Gleason just inside the living room where he thanked me for stopping Barbara from falling. “I’m a bank guard now so I don’t make a lot of money and Barbara doesn’t have great health insurance from Social Services so any kind of injury would have been a burden on us. Of course, her welfare always comes first.” I realized then that Barbara hadn’t told them much about our lengthy conversation.

She appeared from a door across the living room and I could tell she was shocked by my attire. I was wearing a blue sports jacket with a white button-down shirt and a blue and gold striped tie with charcoal gray slacks and cordovan loafers. I laughed as she approached. “You’re probably wondering why I’m all dressed up when I told you to dress casually. I have to dress up for games. It’s a team rule, but I have some casual clothes in my car.” We said good night to the Gleason’s and walked quickly down the stairs to the street where I led her not to my Jeep, but to my ’61 Olds Starfire convertible.

“Where’s the Jeep? You have two cars?”

“Yeah, I rent a garage a couple of blocks from my home and keep one of my cars there. The Jeep is great in bad weather, but the ride is really harsh and the heater stinks.” I held the door for her then sat behind the wheel and started the Olds’ powerful V8 engine. Two minutes later we were on the parkway on our way to my school.

“I need to warn you; well, maybe not warn you, but I do need to tell you what will happen when we get there. The gym will be packed; it always is. The school is old; built in the early 1930’s; and the gym is small. They probably violate every fire regulation ever created by packing people in at every game. They even have a TV camera that broadcasts to the cafeteria just downstairs to accommodate all of the people. I’ll introduce you to my family; my mom and dad and my two youngest sisters. I have three, all younger than me, but Angela who’s in tenth grade is a cheerleader. Mom and Dad are saving a seat for you. There are four men who always sit behind them. They’ll get up when we walk in so I can lie down and meditate. I clear my mind of everything and go into a kind of trance until the end of the third quarter of the JV game when I wake up and go into the locker room to dress for the game. I always hug and kiss my mom and dad and my sisters and I’ll do the same with you if that’s okay. I’ve asked my mom to speak with you once I’m in the locker room.”

“Why? What about?”

“I’ll let her tell you. It’s nothing bad. Okay, that’s the school just ahead.” I pulled into the parking lot and found a place to park, grabbing my bag and locking the car before walking Barbara to the entry. I had timed our arrival well. The first half of the JV game had just ended. The teams were just walking off the floor when everyone stood and began screaming, “FREAK! FREAK! FREAK!” I waved my acknowledgment and turned to Barbara. “Sorry, I forgot to warn you about that. They get a little carried away. That’s what all the kids call me; kind of like a nickname.”

We walked along the end of the court as I pointed to the four state championship banners hanging from the wall at the other end. Behind us was another with my name and number. “What’s that,” Barbara asked.

“The school board retired my number last year which is really strange. They usually wait until a person has graduated before doing that.” I introduced her to my parents and to my sisters; Marie and Carole. The four men greeted me then rose and stood while I laid my coat and sports jacket on the bleacher. A minute later I was in a deep trance, one that wiped my brain clean of any extraneous thoughts. When I roused myself there was only the game on my mind. I stood and, after thanking the men again, I hugged and kissed my dad and mom then my sisters and finally Barbara who surprised me by turning her head so my lips fell on hers. She broke it with a smile as I walked down the court to our locker room.

Jack had just entered the locker room when I turned to speak with Barbara. “Did Jack tell you that he wanted me to speak with you?”

“Yes, Mrs. French, but I don’t know why.”

“He told me about Mass and afterwards Sunday morning so I suspect you already know what kind of person he is. He is probably the kindest, politest, and most considerate son I could hope for and that’s exactly what he is right up until he walks onto the court. Then he becomes super aggressive and the ultimate competitor. He has what coaches call ‘killer instinct,’ not that he’d deliberately hurt an opponent. Jack is also extremely smart so he knows that his behavior on the court might scare you. Don’t worry. He’ll be the same sweet young man once he steps over the line when the game is over. He knows that you’ve never seen a high school game so he’s concerned. I know from our talk that he likes you and that he’ll want to see you again.

“Now, there’s one other thing you need to know. Jack becomes physically ill before every game.”

“You mean; ?”

“Yes, he’ll look like hell when he first steps onto the court. He’s always the last one out of the locker room because he has to clean up and rinse his mouth several times before coming down. The locker room is up there, a floor above us. The worse he looks the better he plays.”

“But; why does he do it? Why does he go through that over and over?”

“Because he loves the competition. He loves being a part of a team and representing his school. He loves winning and making his father and me proud of him. It’s all of those reasons and more. Jack has very high expectations for himself and this is one way he strives to meet those expectations.”

Barbara sat quietly for almost a minute before speaking. “Thank you, Mrs. French. I think I understand a bit better now.”

I stripped out of my clothes and walked into the uniform room in only my jock. The uniforms were washed after every game and I found mine hanging on its hook. I took the shirt, shorts, warm-up jersey, and socks, grabbing a fresh roll of adhesive tape on my way out the door.

Sitting on the bench in front of my locker I slowly began the process of taping my ankles. I taped them before every practice and every game and I had to be careful. If not placed properly, the tape would cut into my skin, both at the lower end of my Achilles and at the crease where the front of my leg meets my foot. I’d learned the hard way back in my freshman year to cover those areas with a strip of tape before beginning the actual supports. This was the price I had to pay for having a 44-inch vertical leap. Coming down on an opponent’s foot without the extra support could break my ankle. Yes, I could heal it quickly, but I’d be out of competition for several weeks at least.

I had just finished lacing up my sneakers when I felt my stomach heave. I ran off to the bathroom where manager-scorer Jimmy Piersall met me. Jimmy reminded me of me before my “accident.” He was bookish in the extreme and he was the only student in my class with an academic average close to mine. My teammates were gone by the time I went to wash my face and rinse my mouth. Jimmy patted me on the back as we began the walk down to the court.

I looked over toward my parents and I could see the shocked expression on Barbara’s face. Even my mother’s remarks hadn’t adequately prepared her. I shrugged it off as I stepped across the out-of-bounds line where I took on an entirely different persona. We were in a layup drill and I joined the line left of the basket to feed the shooters on the other side.

I knew what would happen when it was my turn to take the layup or shot; the same thing that had happened every single game since our pep rally while in eighth grade. I’d played well in practice and the first three games, but hadn’t needed to show my real jumping ability until then. Each of the players was handed a ball at the locker room door to dribble the length of the court for a layup once his name was called. I was the last of the starters; the last player called; when I began my dribble. I sped up at about half-court and took off for the basket once I was about fifteen feet out, cupping the ball between my arm and hand as I soared up and up. The gym was deathly silent as I neared the basket, my head even with the rim when I reared back and threw the ball through the net with enough force to rattle the backboard on its braces. The crowd reacted to the thunderous dunk with a massive roar that lasted long after I had joined my laughing teammates.

“Where the hell has that been,” Charlie Green, our captain, asked me. I just shrugged my shoulders and grinned. Ever since then the crowd has always wanted me to dunk. I rarely did during warm-ups, saving my energy for the game. I thought they’d see plenty tonight.

I had known Coach Kendall from New Rochelle for several years through my participation in summer basketball camps so I jogged over to shake his hand after the team introductions. Then I returned to our huddle. Coach Darling didn’t say much. He didn’t have to. We all knew the drill; play tough defense, rebound, share the ball, and play together. Those were the keys to any successful game.

Very few teams contested the jump ball at the beginning each quarter. My jumping abilities were too well known. Not only did I jump high, but I was a quick jumper, too. I hadn’t lost a jump ball even once since I began playing. Most teams lined up for the handshakes then pulled back into defensive position under our basket while I tapped the ball to one of our players. Tonight I tapped it to Tony who began to slowly dribble up the court.
We loved to run. That was how we could score ninety points or more in a 32-minute game, but this was part of a set play we had worked on in practice over the past two weeks. Two of our players retreated deep into the corners while forward Eli, physically our biggest player at 245 pounds moved up to the corner of the foul line, what’s known in the game as the “elbow.” I cut in front of him and brushed my defender off and reversed, leaving me open for a lob and a powerful dunk, exactly the start few teams wanted as the crowd went wild.

We were the top-ranked team in the state, but New Rochelle was number five so this game should have been close and it was, closer than anything we’d played over the past four years. The score went back and forth until we opened a small lead at the end of the first quarter. As usual, I had no idea how many points or rebounds or blocks I had, but I knew that I’d led the team as usual. We led 23-19 at the end of the first quarter.

I led our defense in the second quarter with several blocks and key rebounds that started our fast breaks, always trailing the play for a possible offensive rebound in the event of a miss. We scored a lot of points in the second quarter as we built a lead of seven points at the half; 54-47.

We relaxed at half-time, splitting a bag of oranges that Jimmy Piersall had brought for the game, as we listened to Coach Darling critique our first half performance. “You played well, but we need more help on the boards and I think we need to press. I don’t think their guards can stay up with us.” Tony and Eli looked at me for a reaction. I gave them one by nodding.

Pressing can really mess up a team’s offense. Most people think that the objective is to steal the ball, but all that does is cause unnecessary fouls. Mostly, what a press does is to cause the team on offense to speed up their play. A fast pace was exactly what we wanted. We thrived in a helter-skelter game.

I was just about to enter the center circle for the third quarter jump ball when Tony pulled us together. “Listen, Freak. I’ve been talking to the guys and we agree you need to take over the offense. I checked the book and you’re 16 for 19. You already have almost three quarters of our points and you’re not missing. If we shoot we’re going to miss a hell of a lot more often. We want to run the whole offense through you.”

I had listened and looked into my teammates’ faces, noting that they all agreed. “Okay, but we still need to run and get easy baskets and if they double-team me you need to go to the basket so I can feed you.” That was the plan, but sometimes plans don’t exactly work out.

I may have superior skills, but I’m still human. I have good games and bad. Fortunately, my skill level is such that I can usually score even on a bad night. When I walked onto the court for the second half the basket looked like the Grand Canyon. I made my first shot, a long jumper, and my second, a dunk on an offensive rebound. I blocked their next attempt and caught the ball, dribbling down court for another layup and a foul. They missed and I grabbed another rebound. They were back on defense so I ran my opponent around the court, brushing him into two picks that freed me up for another dunk.

After their timeout I scored again on a rebound and pass from Tony to me in the corner. I was fouled and their center had to be removed with four fouls. He was replaced by a big bruiser of a player and I had one of those flashes where I could see the future. I didn’t like what I saw so I walked up to the refs. “See this guy; number 35? He’s going to try starting a fight with me so I’ll be kicked out of the game. I overheard him in warm-ups. Keep an eye on him, will you?”

Sure enough, he started by pushing me into the wall on a fast break. I made the shot and he was called for the foul and warned. Next time up the court I went into the high post on the foul line and he slugged me in the head with his forearm. This time he was called for an intentional foul. I made the shots and we got the ball again. I drove by him as he threw a vicious elbow at my face. This time he was thrown out of the game as I made two foul shots and another for the technical. There was no stopping me.

That’s the way the quarter went as we built a fifteen point lead; 88-73. I still had no idea how many points I had and I didn’t care, either. I only cared that we were winning.

Tony fed me for a really long jumper that I drained easily. As the final quarter proceeded I took over the game, leading us on a 17-3 run that really opened up the score. I couldn’t miss. I’d had games like this before, but never one as important. Everything I threw up went in until Coach Kendall removed most of his starters with four minutes left. They were behind by twenty-nine at that point and he was conceding the game. Our starters left the game only a few seconds later and our subs maintained our lead until the game ended with the score 97-70.

We had a huddle as we did after every game and I was just about to walk over to my family and my date when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Coach Kendall. “You had to pick tonight to have the game of the year. You really were phenomenal, J.J. We had no way to stop you. I apologize for that idiot Carmichael. He’s done so far as I’m concerned. I’d never condone deliberately hurting another player.”

I shook his hand as I told him, “I know that Coach. I’ve played for you enough to know that. I never had a doubt.” He shook my hand again then I was approached by three New Rochelle players I knew from camp or playground ball. We shook hands and hugged. They were excellent players and better people.

I was just about to walk over to my parents when Tony commented, “Who’s the babe with your folks?”

“Don’t get any ideas. She’s my date. I met her in church last Sunday. We’re going to Albanese’s after we get out of here. Want to join us?” He said he’d ask his girlfriend and let me know.

My youngest sister, Carole, ran out to me, jumping up into my arms. “You played great, J.J. I loved those dunks.” I pulled her up so I could kiss her cheek, but she threw her arms around my neck even though I was a sweaty mess. I noticed my other sister, Marie, scribbling madly in her notebook. She always kept a record of my points, rebounds, and blocks, taking great pride in announcing my stats to our parents.

She looked up a moment later. “Holy cow, J.J.; you almost scored as many points as their whole team. You had 68 and 29 rebounds and; wait a second; 8 blocks. Great game; you didn’t miss a single shot the entire second half!” I gripped her by the head and leaned down to kiss her forehead. I knew my folks wanted to leave so I said my good-byes then took Barbara by the hand and led her over to where my teammates’ girlfriends were sitting.

“Guys, this is Barbara. Barbara; Marlene, Carolyn, and Teri. Would you sit with her for a while so she’s not alone? She doesn’t know anyone here.” They agreed so I squeezed her hand before running upstairs to hear Coach Darling’s critique of the game. I wasn’t really listening as I stripped off my uniform and took the special scissors from my locker to cut the tape from my legs and feet. The tape was soaked with sweat; something verified when I stepped on the scale. I had lost seven and a half pounds in water weight during the game, fairly typical for me.

The mood in the shower; just twelve shower heads in a large rectangular room covered with white tiles; was jocular and carefree. I doubted that we’d face another opponent as good as New Rochelle until deep into the state tournament and we’d shown that we could handle them easily. I rejoined Barbara in the gym only fifteen minutes later. I had my jacket, slacks, and shirt on a hanger as I approached. I saw Tony and Carolyn and Richie and Marlene leaving through the back door. “I guess they didn’t want to join us at Albanese’s.”

“No; they said something about watching the submarine races.” (Okay, a brief historical note is needed here for those of you who didn’t grow up in the New York Metro area in the fifties and sixties. Probably the most popular and influential deejay of the time was Murray Kaufman, known throughout the area as “Murray the K” on AM station 1010 WINS. He coined many expressions, but by far the most popular was his “submarine race watching,” a euphemism for a make-out session even though many times there was a lot more going on than making out.)

“Okay, I’m sure they’ll have a good time. However, I promised you pizza and I’m sure you’ll understand that I’m hungry. I never have much to eat before a game for obvious reasons.” I took her hand and we walked out into the cold clear night.

I laid my clothes in the trunk right after opening the door for Barbara, joining her in the cold car a few seconds later. I had the heater on “HIGH” as soon as the car had warmed up a little. By then I was en route to White Plains Road where I turned right toward Eastchester. I turned off about a mile later and from there it was only a half mile to Albanese’s. We walked in through the bar and I wasn’t at all surprised to see my coach, my baseball coach, and the school’s assistant principal enjoying a cold one at the bar. I introduced Barbara then excused us to the restaurant.

We took a booth as I hung our coats onto a rack that was attached to her bench. “I enjoyed the game, Jack. I thought you played great. Those people sure do yell a lot.”

“Yeah, they’re great fans. What would you like to drink?” I ordered a pitcher once she had told me “Coke.”

“You probably noticed that I sweat a lot during the game. It’s not unusual for me to go through three or four towels. I actually lost more than seven pounds, but that’s nothing compared to practice. I need to drink a lot to make up for the water loss otherwise I’ll wake up around three with cramps in my legs.”

“Is every game like this one?”

I had to laugh. “No, most of our games are routs and that’s not just because of me. Basketball is the ultimate team game because there are only five players on a team. In baseball a player could go the entire game without a chance in the field and in football it’s possible to take some plays off because the action is going the other way. Well; you can do that on offense, but in basketball every player has to be in on every play, both on offense and defense. One good player just doesn’t do it. We have seven good players in my grade. The two subs are good enough to start on a lot of the teams we play against.

“What kind of pie do you want?” We talked about the options before deciding on a plain cheese pie. Being Catholic meant no meat on Fridays back then. Well, it did if you were religious. My mother served us meat-free meals on Fridays, but if I went out on my own I never thought twice about having some sausage on my pizza or even a burger.

We chatted idly for a while before I asked if she would allow me to take her on a real date tomorrow night. Smiling slyly she said, “I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

“Well; I suppose we could go bowling. That’s usually fun or we could go to the movies in New Rochelle or Mount Vernon. I don’t think the drive-ins are open now. Or I could take you out to dinner in Manhattan and then to a Broadway show.”

Barbara’s mouth dropped and stayed there a few seconds before she recovered. “Really? You mean that? What would we see?”

“Of course, I mean it. I know I can get tickets for ‘West Side Story’ and for ‘Irma La Douce.’”

“I’ve heard about West Side Story, but what’s the other one?”

“Are you taking French?” She shook her head “no,” so I continued. “It means ‘Irma the Sweet.’ It’s a comedy that takes place in Paris sometime in the past; the thirties maybe. Irma is a prostitute and the other main character is a naïve police officer. It’s a comedy and there’s no actual sex in the play, but there is a lot of suggestive dialog. Everything I’ve read about it is very positive; in fact Hollywood’s making a movie of it. I read recently that Shirley MacLaine is going to play Irma with Jack Lemmon as the cop.”

“It sounds like fun, but I’m afraid the nuns would skin me alive if I saw it. Can we see ‘West Side Story’ instead?”

“Of course; I’ll phone for the tickets tomorrow morning. I’ll have to pick you up around 4:30 because we’ll have to take the train to Grand Central and then we’ll take cabs to the restaurant and theater. You’d better ask Mr. and Mrs. Gleason if you can stay out after midnight. I’ll try to get you home by then, but we could have trouble getting a cab and we’re stuck with the train schedule, too.” She was about to speak, but stopped as the waitress slid the pie onto the table.

We were mostly silent while we ate. I refilled her glass with Coke, but I could see that she’d just as soon that I drank it. She must have been hungry, because she ate three pieces to my five. I knew that I was starving between skipping even an early dinner and then evacuating my stomach before the game. I was just finishing my final piece when Barbara asked how I had found this place.

“Actually, my parents found it. My dad is involved in the Eastchester Fire Department and so is Mr. Albanese although they’re in different stations. They still go to the same training sessions and I know they were both Station Chiefs a few years ago. Mr. Albanese often stops by and he used to offer me free meals until I insisted that I had to pay. It’s one thing to offer my parents something free, but I can’t accept anything.” I paid the bill a few minutes later and we walked to my car. It was just barely 11:00.
“What would you like to do now? We probably have at least half an hour before I have to take you home.”

She gave me a coy smile before replying. “Do they have any of those submarine races around here?”

“As a matter of fact, they do.” I started the car and drove to an apartment complex near my home in Chester Heights. The road went past the end of the apartments where it ended at a turn-around. There were always places to park here. I made the turn and pulled over to the curb, turning the car’s engine off, but leaving the radio on. Murray the K was still on 1010 WINS. Barbara slid over to me and raised her face to mine. I leaned down to kiss her and I was surprised at how widely her mouth was open when our lips met. We kissed for almost a minute, our tongues dueling until I broke it.

“Have you kissed many boys before me?”

“Umm, no; does it show?”

“A little; try to relax a bit more and open your mouth a little less. Our tongues will still be able to; well, you get the idea.” Then I stopped talking and we kissed again. She was much better this time around, so much better that I wanted to do it again and again. We stayed there for about half an hour until I had to get her home. There was no traffic at that hour so we were actually a few minutes early. We spent those minutes getting to know each other even better. All I knew was that I couldn’t wait until tomorrow night. I promised I’d call her once I had bought the tickets.

I phoned the theater at 9:30, giving my credit card number over the phone as well as my name. The tickets, the best I could get were in the Orchestra, row twenty-one; center. They would be at the “Will Call” window and I was reminded to bring my driver’s license as identification. I phoned Barbara as soon as I had ended the first call. We spoke for a few minutes before I had to go. One of my jobs at home was cleaning my bathroom and tidying my room and there was no excuse that my mother would accept. This was hardly my favorite chore, but I knew from experience that I would be done with it in less than an hour so the sooner I started the better.

I ate a relatively light lunch; four hot dogs cut into inch-long pieces then fried until the skins were burnt and served with a big dollop of mustard. I washed it down with a big glass of milk. As soon as lunch was done I began to shine my shoes for the week. All four of us; my sisters and I; always wore shoes to school and, of course, to church. We had sneakers and sandals, but there would be hell to pay if we ever tried to wear them to school. The same was true for our clothes. At home I wore jeans almost exclusively, but if I tried to wear them to school I’d probably be dead. As big as I was I was relatively small compared to my dad. His arms were the size of my legs and my legs were big and muscular.

I had just finished my three pair of shoes; black and cordovan loafers and black dress shoes; when my little sister Carole asked if I would help her do hers. She was the youngest at eight and I remembered trying to shine mine at her age so I smiled and opened my arms for a big hug and kiss. Then I held the shoes while she tried to apply the polish, getting more on me than on the leather. Still, we were done about half an hour later. After checking the clock and thoroughly washing my hands I decided it was a good time to lay out my clothes for tonight. I decided on the blue blazer/grey slacks look because I had no idea what Barbara had to wear. Based on what she had told me I doubted that her finances were anything like mine.

My first investment was about 13,500 shares of IBM which I had bought at just under five dollars a share back when I was eight thanks to one of my famous flashes. Since then the stock had split three times, once at three to one and the price was now up to almost fifty a share. I always reinvested the dividends so I now had more than 100,000 shares. Figure it out; fifty times 100,000 is about five million dollars; and that was only one of my investments. I had also done very well with AT&T and Standard Oil of Ohio, known as ESSO in those days, among others. Of course, I’d had to pay taxes on those earnings, but my net worth was just under eight million and I knew that there was almost always a track open nearby where I could pick up a few thousand more.

I was dressed and ready to go by 4:00. Checking my wallet one last time, I kissed my parents and my sisters good-bye and a few minutes later I was driving down the block, narrowly avoiding a collision with some idiot who had backed out of his driveway without even looking. There wasn’t much traffic on our street, but there was some and there were a few dozen kids living there so it paid to be cautious.

I was about ten minutes early when I pulled into the curb near Barbara’s apartment. She had told me that she’d be ready early so I rang the bell hoping that she was. As before, Mrs. Gleason answered the door and asked me into to the apartment where I shook hands with Mr. Gleason and we spoke for a moment before Barbara stepped out from her room. She asked, “Do I look okay?”

She was stunning in a fashionable, but modest dark green dress that ended just below her knees. There was a scoop neck that exposed only a small amount of her cleavage and the dress had short puff sleeves that ended half-way to her elbows. “You look sensational; just perfect.” I helped her with her coat and we were in the car for the short ride to the train station a minute later. I found a parking spot up near the station fairly easily. During the work week these spots would be in short supply, but at almost 5:00 on a Saturday afternoon the station was virtually deserted.

I bought tickets in the terminal and we retired to a bench on the platform for a short wait. Ten minutes later the train pulled into the station and twenty minutes after that we stepped out of Grand Central Station onto 42nd Street. There were always plenty of cabs around the terminal so we had no difficulty finding one to Keens Steakhouse. It had been around forever and had always been one of the city’s great restaurants. I had made a reservation for 5:30 which would give us plenty of time to eat and take the short trip to the theater less than a dozen blocks away.

Barbara’s eyes were the size of quarters when she saw the prices so I leaned across the table to whisper, “I’ve eaten here before so I know what the prices are. Please don’t worry about them. Let’s just relax and enjoy ourselves. Okay?” I took her hand in mine and kissed it gently then I told her what I had planned to order. Our waiter appeared a minute later and I explained that we had to be out by 7:00 at the latest for the theater. I knew we would be. They did this kind of thing every day.

The meal was everything I had hoped; delicious salads, filets medium rare, and fries. We skipped dessert. Frankly, we’d both had too much to eat. We had the restaurant phone for a cab and ten minutes later we stepped up to the Will Call window. I had my identification in the form of my passport so I led Barbara into the theater. “Let’s check our coats. We’ll be much more comfortable inside without them.”

We had just taken our seats when Barbara took my hand. “I’m so excited, Jack. I’ve never been to a Broadway play before.”

“I think we picked a good one. Everything I’ve heard about the show is great. Maybe next time we’ll take in “Irma.”

The woman sitting next to her had overheard our comments. “I wasn’t prying, but I did overhear you talking about seeing ‘Irma la Douce.’ My theater club saw it last month. It was fantastic. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard.”

We thanked her and turned toward the stage. Barbara whispered, “Thank you so much for this, Jack. Feel my heart. It’s going a mile a minute.”

Then she took my hand and placed it over her heart. She held it there for several minutes before she realized that my huge hand was almost exactly covering her left breast. She gasped suddenly and pushed my hand away, her face turning dark red. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry.”

I moved my lips up close to her ear so only she would hear my words. “Don’t apologize. I’m not sorry at all.” Then I leaned forward the final inch to gently kiss her shapely ear. It must have tickled because she began to giggle. I kissed her cheek and turned again to the stage. The orchestra was just entering the pit and several had begun tuning and warming up. Barbara looped her arm in mine as we waited for the overture to begin.

The show was everything it was supposed to be; the music, the singing, the dancing. The audience showed its appreciation with a standing ovation at the end with Barbara and me leading the way. We took our time exiting the theater, waiting patiently at the end of the line for the coat check room. I tipped the woman who gave us our coats and helped Barbara into hers before donning mine. The sidewalk in front of the theater was relatively deserted when we finally walked out. I’d been to the theater before and I knew how hectic the crowd would be with everyone trying for a cab or rushing to the subway. Now I stepped to the curb, raising my arm in signal. Five minutes later a cab stopped and I helped Barbara in. “Grand Central,” I told the driver. The tab was only six dollars so I gave him a ten and helped Barbara out. I checked for the correct track on the schedule board and we hurried to the train, arriving only a few minutes before it left.

We sat back in the seat as Barbara snuggled in close to my body, her head on my shoulder. “I had such a wonderful time tonight, Jack, last night, too.” She reached up to kiss me, but it was only a quick one. The train was hardly the place for a hot make-out session.

We pulled into the Pelham station at 11:42. I took her hand and led her to the car. A minute later she asked if there are any submarine races on schedule tonight. “I think there are scheduled races every night of the year,” I replied with a chuckle. “You just have to find the right place. We need one here in Pelham so we don’t have to drive all the way to Chester Heights and back.”

“I agree,” she said with a sly grin. “We could miss half of the races.” I laughed as I turned left away from her apartment to the village’s small independent movie theater. As I expected their parking lot was almost empty. I backed into a slot in the back row and stopped the car, leaving the radio set to 1010 WINS for Murray the K. For some reason he had a sub working so I changed to 770 AM; WABC and Cousin Brucie. Barbara slid across the seat and into my arms.

With some of the other girls I’ve dated I’d have my hands all over her tits or even up her skirt, but I knew something about Barbara that I wasn’t quite ready to reveal. I had told Barbara on the phone about how I knew that she was going to fall and be severely injured. I called what happened to me a “flash.” It was as though a snippet of film; a coming attraction, if you will; had been shown in my brain. That film showed her falling on the slippery concrete. It wasn’t long, only about two or three seconds, but it was enough.

There had also been a second flash, this one longer. It showed two elderly people with matching wedding bands, me with white hair and the woman I knew was Barbara with gray. We were obviously in a hospital room and I could tell that Barbara was seriously ill. I’d had any number of girlfriends before Barbara, but she was going to be my last, if only I didn’t fuck it up.

She must have been a smart person because she learned how to kiss really quickly after last night’s brief lesson. All I knew was that I wanted to kiss her for the rest of my life. All told we shared only three kisses over the next half hour with but a few seconds between, mostly to laughingly wipe the spit from our faces. At one point she opened my glove box looking for a napkin or paper towel, finding instead a small box with the word “Trojan” on the side.

“What’s this, Jack?”

“Those are condoms.”

“Oh; I’ve heard some of the girls talking about them, but I’ve never seen one and I’m not sure how they work.”

“Open the box and take one out if you wish.” She pulled one of the foil-wrapped packets from the box.

“What do you do with this?” I knew they didn’t teach contraception in a Catholic girls’ school so I thought I’d have to tell her.

“Open the packet.” Once she had the condom in her hand I told her to unroll it down her finger.

“This is much bigger than my finger.”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed my ass off. “Thank God for that!” I was practically choking.

“I don’t understand, Jack. Won’t you explain it for me?”

I took a couple of deep breaths. “It’s not for your finger. It’s for my penis. Do they have sex education in your school?” Barbara gave me a look that asked if I was crazy. “I didn’t think so, and even if they did I doubt that there would be any discussion of contraception.” I took the latex sheath from her hand and held it up for her to see. “When a couple decides that they want to have sexual relations there are changes that occur to their bodies. I’m sure you know that the man’s penis becomes erect; an erection; to enable penetration and the woman’s vagina becomes lubricated to make that penetration easier. The Church has declared that contraception is a sin which is a totally ridiculous concept. What we need in the world are more children who are unwanted by their parents or whose parents can’t afford to clothe or feed them.

“Condoms are also used to prevent venereal diseases although they’re not perfect. They are, however, a big help in both regards.”

“Were you planning on using these with me?”

“No; you’re not my first girlfriend. I’ve had those for a while. You’d be amazed at how many girls practically throw themselves at me. Last year we played an away game at Rye Neck. I went outside the gym for a drink of water and two girls gave me their phone numbers, promising me that they’d take the very best care of me; both of them at the same time.”

“Did you call them?”

No. I dumped the paper with their numbers into the trash as soon as I walked back inside. Having sex with someone who would throw themselves at a total stranger just because he can play basketball could be dangerous, not to mention stupid. The last thing I need is some sexually transmitted disease like gonorrhea or syphilis.”

“So, I guess that means you don’t think I’m sexy.” I almost laughed because her teasing was so obvious.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I always make it a practice to date women who are ugly fat slobs.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.” I dropped the condom into the plastic bag I kept in the car for trash and wrapped her into my arms as our lips met again. I started the car at 12:35 to drive the two miles or so to her apartment. I pulled to the curb about a hundred feet from her door. We walked together, my arm around her until we reached the entrance. The last thing we did after kissing for more than a minute was to make arrangements to attend Mass together later this morning. I watched her climb the stairs and open the apartment door before walking back to the car. Fifteen minutes later I was home and in bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

I had a bit of a surprise when I woke up so I phoned Barbara to ask her about it. She agreed immediately that I should bring my little sister; eight year-old Carole; to Mass with us. I sat her in the back seat as I drove into Pelham. Carole held my hand as we walked to the apartment and went up the stairs. I introduced her to the Gleason’s as we waited for Barbara. Carole ran to her for a hug then we were on our way to the church only a mile away.

Once I had parked Carole walked between us holding both of our hands. Looking at Barbara she asked, “Do you hold hands with J.J, Barbara?”

“Yes, I do, Carole. Is that okay with you?”

“I suppose so, but why do you want to hold his hand?”

“Why do you do it, Carole?”

“I want to be safe. J.J. is big. People driving cars can see him and sometimes he stops me from falling.”

“Did you know that he did that with me, too? That’s how we met. I would have been badly hurt if my head hit the sidewalk.”

Carole was obviously thinking as we approached St. Catharine’s. “Barbara, do you like my brother?”

Barbara stopped and knelt to face Carole then spoke calmly and quietly so just Carole and I could hear. “Yes, I do. I like him very much.” Then she hugged Carole and took my other hand. Together we climbed the steps into the church. We sat on the aisle near the back. Mass began on time and passed as slowly as always. I attended because it was something my mother and now Barbara expected me to do. My mind often wandered and I had another flash that told me a lot about my future relationship with Barbara. She took Carole with her for communion while I remained in the pew. A few minutes later we walked out into the sunny day and that was when I received my best surprise of the morning. My dad was there to take Carole home.

We were in my car when I laughed. “Thank you, Dad!”

“Jack, that’s a horrible thing to say.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I love my sister. We have a bungalow out on Long Island and we don’t have enough bedrooms so Carole sleeps in what used to be strictly mine. She wakes up really early every morning and stands next to the bed until I wake up and let her climb in with me. Obviously, that won’t continue much longer, but she’s done it every morning since she was three and I always welcome her. She snuggles up to me and we go right back to sleep until we wake up again around eight or so. However, having her with us, even on a date to attend Mass; well, let’s just say that I much prefer having you all to myself.”

“Do you really want me all to yourself?”

I smiled then leaned over to kiss her. It was just a short one before I answered her question. “What do you think?” Barbara laughed then kissed me again. “Want to know what Carole asked me on our drive over? She wanted to know if I had ever kissed you.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I would never lie to her so I told her that I did it as often as possible.” Then I showed her by kissing her again. Finally, I started the car and drove us to the diner where we enjoyed another great breakfast although she did laugh when I told her I was going to play basketball this afternoon.

“Don’t you get enough of that during the week?”

“No, I usually play seven days a week. The gym is open for recreation Saturday and Sunday from two to four. All the guys on the team go to play and so do a lot of others. Some of the games are really intense, but we do look at the big picture; winning another state championship; so we try to make sure that nobody gets hurt. Mostly, it’s a lot of fun.”

“It’s hard for me to relate. We don’t have anything like that at my school.”

“I’m not knocking private schools, but there are a lot of things that we have that you don’t. For one thing, all of our teachers have to be certified by the state. I don’t know about a high school, but I do know that there are teachers in some parochial elementary schools who have never even attended college, let alone learned how to teach. On the other hand, I’ve had a few teachers who I think would be better off selling insurance than teaching. Of course, you have God and religion which we’re not supposed to have and you don’t have the distraction of kids making out in the hallways; at least I hope not; and I hope you don’t have to worry about your students getting pregnant like two of my classmates did this year. I guess that every school has its pros and cons.”

“You’re probably right. I know that there are things I love and things I can’t stand about my school although you’d be wrong about the pregnancies. We weren’t told anything, but one of my classmates just stopped coming to school even though we knew that the family didn’t move. When do you play again?”

“Tuesday afternoon; we usually play every Tuesday and Friday unless there’s a holiday. I’ll phone you Tuesday night, okay? But you have to tell me if you have homework. I don’t want to mess up school for you.”

“I promise that I’ll tell you, but I usually read on the bus so I get a lot of my work done before dinner.” I found it amazing that Barbara and I could speak so easily to each other and that we were so comfortable in each other’s presence. I checked my watch and saw that we had plenty of time. The only question was; did we want to spend it in the diner or in my car. Barbara solved that question for me by standing. I paid and a minute later we were in my car, but where to go? Then I had the answer.

My dad owned a plumbing and heating business in Mount Vernon only a few minutes from the diner. The street was strictly commercial; a Monday to Friday kind of place so I doubted there would be anyone there on a Sunday. Five minutes later I pulled up in front of French Plumbing and Heating, Inc. The street was deserted. In those days the only stores open on Sunday were delis and, thanks to Blue Laws, there was no beer sold before 1:00 p.m. Barbara took the hint and pulled my mouth to hers as soon as I had turned the car off. We spent the next forty minutes swapping spit and dueling tongues. I couldn’t speak for Barbara, but I was actually thinking of skipping basketball and I might have had Barbara not mentioned that she had a report she needed to finish. I sighed, gave her a quick peck and drove her back to Pelham.

I phoned her as promised Tuesday evening. “Hi, Jack, did you win? How many points did you score?” That was how she began our conversation.

“We did win, and quite easily. I had twenty-two.”

“What happened? I thought you’d score more than that.”

“It was payback time. Friday night my teammates sacrificed their games to support me and our team. Their unselfishness was one of the big reasons why we had a relatively easy victory. You don’t score 68 points without a lot of help. Today I turned the tables. We played Eastchester and we’ve killed them every time we’ve played over the past five years. I decided that I’d only score on offensive rebounds and foul shots. The rest of the time I made a move to the basket and forced them to double-team me. Every time they did I was able to pass to my teammate, mostly for an easy layup. So I didn’t score a lot, but I did have more than twenty assists and more than twenty rebounds. Rebounding is more important than most people realize.”

We spent the next hour talking about school and what we were studying. Once again, I marveled at how comfortable we seemed to be with each other. I asked her if she wanted to attend Friday’s away game in Yonkers. Even though she went to school there it made sense for her to take the bus to Chester Heights where I lived. Yonkers was a big city with more than 70,000 people. We agreed that I’d meet her at the bus stop and she would come home with me to change her clothes and have a bite to eat. Then I’d drive her to school so she could follow the bus to the game.

Everything worked out perfectly. I walked into the Yonkers High School Gym with Barbara, paying for her ticket and giving her a five so she could get a soda or a snack if she wished. We sat together watching the JV game until my family came in to join us. I lay on the bleacher behind them at the half for my meditation then followed my ritual hugs and kisses before walking to the locker room to dress. My kiss with Barbara had a little extra in it, especially when she gripped my head to prolong it.

I caught a little grief from my buddies once I got into the locker room, but I knew they were just jealous. Barbara was a beautiful woman with a great body. Hell, I’d be jealous, too if I saw her kissing someone else.

I taped up, dressed in my uniform, and threw up all in the space of fifteen minutes before walking onto the court. Looking over to Barbara I saw her wave and smile. Apparently, she knew better what to expect this time around. I joined the layup line, mostly to loosen up my muscles. I didn’t need to practice shooting; I got plenty of that every day at practice. It was my goal to sink fifty straight foul shots every day before practice began. That’s what I did every day while other guys were fooling around and taking shots they’d never dare in an actual game.

Here at Yonkers they introduce one player from each team who meet at mid-court to shake hands before moving to the foul line. As usual, I was introduced last and waited to shake hands with their center, Marcus Coburg. It was a cool reception both ways; there was no love lost between us. Our history went back two years to a play in which he had intentionally tried to injure me. He had rebounded a missed shot and had viciously swung his elbow at my head. Luckily, I’d had one of my famous flashes just a few seconds earlier so I was able to turn and duck my head. He still hit me, but it was a glancing blow instead of one that would have probably broken my nose. Worse, he tried the same thing later in the game and he repeated the next three times we played, too.

I’d had two flashes on the bus earlier so I had a good idea what to expect and when. I won my 427th consecutive jump ball to open the game. We were about to run our opening play when Coburg shot his leg out in my path in an attempt to trip me. Instead of trying to avoid him I faked tripping and stepped onto the outside of his ankle. I could feel it crumble as he fell to the floor in anguish. I knew he was done for the rest of the game, at least, but I’d managed to get even at last. Normally, I’d go to the opponent in the name of sportsmanship to express my concern, but that would never happen with this asshole. He had to be helped from the court, swearing at me the entire time. Hey; I didn’t make him try to hurt me. I wondered then how many times he’d tried that with other opponents.

I knew one of their guards fairly well so I asked him. “He’s no loss, believe me. All he does is try to hurt people. He’s been kicked out of two games already this year and he’s had at least one technical every game. Truthfully, I’m glad he’s hurt. He’s just a total asshole. You should have heard him brag about how he was going to take you down.” We might have continued, but he was finally off the court and the ref had blown his whistle to continue play.

I passed it in to Tony, brushed my new opponent off on Eli and took the lob for an easy dunk. We pressed from the start and disrupted their offense more than half the time. We went up early and stayed there, winning eventually by twenty-six even though I only played five minutes in the second half. I met up with my family afterwards and I made sure that my dad told Coach that I had his permission to skip the bus back to school.

My parents volunteered to stay to stay with Barbara so I hurried into the locker room to strip out of my uniform and cut the tape from my ankles. I rushed into the shower, soaping up my body with both hands and using the soap in my hair, as well. Then I dried myself, handed my sweaty uniform to Jimmy Piersall so he could return it to school for washing before the next game, and dressed as quickly as I could. My wet towel joined my sneakers, socks, and jock in my gym bag. Hurriedly, my hair still wet, I almost ran into the gym. We walked out together with my family, Barbara holding my right hand and my gym bag in my left. We walked through a group of disgruntled male students, some of whom made comments about hurting me the way I had hurt Coburg. I moved Barbara behind me and turned to face one of the closest. “Well, here I am,” I said as I dropped my bag. His bravado evaporated in a flash when I took a step toward him. The crowd dissolved and we continued our short walk.

To be continued, by Senor Longo.

Rediscovering the ancient lore of being in love..

Based on the works of ron de, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

"Jessica told me she wanted me to breed her again. I know I can't, not yet, but after she said that, I found the idea was rather exciting. Is it wrong that she felt that way or that I thought I'd like to breed her again?"

Regina shook her head.

"No, it's not wrong. What you were both feeling was the release of endorphins into your brains during the orgasm and it's a little like the addiction to some drugs. You feel the endorphins and want to have the feeling again."

Danny pursed his lips.

"Why haven't I felt like this before? The breeder and I always have an orgasm."

Regina smiled.

"We really don't know, Danny. That's part of what this experiment is all about - to find out. What we know is impregnation is much more successful if the breeder feels something for the sire and the sire's sperm count is higher if he feels something for the breeder."

Danny thought for a while about that. He did like Jessica, but he'd liked Barbara too. The feeling had been there with Barbara, a little, but not as strongly as with Jessica. Maybe that was because Barbara hadn't said anything like Jessica had. Maybe that was the reason.

He looked at Regina then.

"Do you feel that when you're bred - like you want to be bred again by the same sire?"

Regina looked at the floor when she answered.

"I've never been bred, Danny, because I was designated as a critical employee. If I took time off for pregnancy and to raise a child it would cause serious damage to the program."

She looked up at Danny then.

"Maybe once we get this all figured out, I can be bred. I would like to have children someday."

Over the course of the next eighteen weeks, Danny selected and bred eighteen more breeders and completed what he jokingly referred to in his weekly after breeding reports as his harem. In those after breeding reports, he tried to explain what had attracted him to each breeder. Often, he really didn't know exactly what that was so his answers were a little confusing.

The breeders were also interviewed and asked if they were attracted to Danny, if they would like him to breed them again, and were asked to rate their attraction to Danny from a list of characteristics on a scale of one to ten.

Over the months, she began to see a pattern in Danny's selections and the breeder's responses. That was important because once the twenty breeders were selected, bred, and in residence, Danny would have the freedom to choose a breeder once a week even though all were in some stage of pregnancy. Only in the last month of gestation was a breeder not able to engage in sex.

In her last report to the W R E, Regina had put the remaining reservations to rest. Danny's impregnation rate had been ninety-five percent, much better than even the best of the other sires. The data indicated that even though genetically matching sires and breeders was very successful, the last key to the puzzle was in the mental processes of both sires and breeders.

When Danny had bred the twentieth breeder and she had conceived, Regina sat down with him and explained the data she had collected and what that meant to the experiment.

"Danny, the data I've gathered is interesting to say the least. Even though your ratings of the breeders you selected are fairly consistent -- large breasts, wide hips, and an attitude of eagerness to be bred, your sperm count shows me something different.

"Your sperm count tends to indicate you prefer brunettes who have not shaved their pubic hair. Another interesting thing is that while breast and hip size do show some correlation, in general, your sperm count is lower if the woman has any hair color other than brunette. It seems as if you prefer her pubic hair to be the same color as well.

"The other thing that is rather unusual is your sperm count is higher if the breeder's after breeding report indicates she was nervous about the breeding. Your sperm count is even higher than if she was very confident. I'm still trying to figure that one out. Any thoughts about why that would be?"

Danny thought back over his times with the twenty breeders. Yes, some seemed to be nervous so he had taken special care to make sure they were completely aroused before he bred them. The others, the ones who seemed to be more than ready, he had just bred them like he had over a hundred others. What could make him treat a nervous breeder differently?

"I'm not sure. It just seemed like to ones who were nervous needed more stimulation, so I tried to give them that."

Regina had watched the videos of each breeding and though she had seen some differences in what Danny did with those breeders and how they reacted, she couldn't see enough detail to really understand what he was doing.

"Danny, what did you do differently with the nervous breeders?"

Danny had to think about that for a few moments, because he didn't really remember doing anything consciously. He just did what seemed to arouse the breeder and it was more or less instinctive.

"I'm not sure except when something I did seemed to arouse them, I did it some more."

Regina smiled.

"Can you give me some examples...like what did you do with Heather, the little brunette with large breasts? She started out being nervous, but her orgasm left her shaking and breathless."

Danny remembered Heather. He'd found her especially attractive and planned on breeding her several more times.

"Heather didn't put much on her application form about what excited her, so I had to figure it out as I went. Like you said, she had large breasts and she seemed to really like having them gently stroked. Once I figured that out, that's what I started doing. She also had large nipples, and as I stroked her breasts they got even larger. From what I've seen, most breeders like having their nipples lightly pinched and sucked. When I did that to Heather's nipples and then checked to see if she was becoming aroused, I found out she was very slippery inside, more so than most other breeders I've bred, so I kept doing it while stimulating her with a finger until she spread her legs and pulled me between them. It was pretty exciting for me too, to find out that a simple thing like sucking her nipples could excite her so quickly. I've bred a lot of breeders, but not as many as you've studied. Is that a normal reaction?"

Regina said she'd seen similar reactions in the population of breeders she'd studied. She didn't tell him that just listening to the description of his actions with Heather had caused her own nipples to swell and that she felt as if she was becoming wet. That would have been embarrassing besides being unprofessional. She wasn't supposed to be excited by what she witnessed during the breedings or by what the sire and breeder said in their after-breeding interviews.

"Yes, Danny, I've seen that before in some women. Other's not so much."

Danny had been watching Regina while he related what he'd done with Heather, and what he saw made him smile. Regina was breathing a little faster and she'd closed her thighs tight and then moved them up and down a little when she changed position. That was the same way Heather had reacted.

That reaction caused Danny to look at Regina in a different light as well. Before, she'd been just another researcher who happened to be female, and she was always calm and analytical in her questions and responses. Now, knowing she had dreams of someday being bred and seeing that he'd excited her a little, she became a woman, a woman with large breasts and brown hair and the small but full figured body that attracted him to some of the breeders more than to others.

He thought maybe part of the reason for the change was they were no longer in the sterile environment of the breeding center. They now lived together in a house in the countryside and he'd become more aware of her appearance since she'd dispensed with the white lab coats she always wore at the breeding center. That let Danny see how her large breasts moved when she did, and how her wide hips swayed when she walked. He'd been more than a little aroused by Regina in street clothes, and now...

"Regina, a man stroking your breasts and sucking your nipples does the same thing to you, doesn't it?"

The thought of Danny doing that to her flashed through Regina's mind and she felt her nipples stiffen a little more and the feeling of dampness between her thighs increased. No man had ever touched her that way, but it was what she did to herself when she was alone in her bed at night. She would watch one of the videos of one of Danny's breeding sessions and fantasize about how it must feel to the breeder. At the end, when Regina stifled the cry as her hips raised off the bed because of the orgasm, she was thinking about how it must feel to the breeder to have Danny groan and pump his sperm inside her.

Regina frowned at that thought. It wasn't right. She was supposed to be an unbiased observer of the breedings and then analyze them so future breedings would be more successful. She couldn't let Danny know she even thought about sex, let alone that his description was affecting her. That might bias his actions and the study data would be contaminated.

"Danny, I've never been touched that way, so I don't know. Now, what else did you do with Heather that was different?"

Danny wasn't dumb and he was very observant. Those qualities are what made him a very valuable sire. He could watch a breeder's reactions to what he did and modify his behavior accordingly. He didn't miss the fact that in spite of the bra Regina wore, her nipples had stiffened enough he could see the bumps they made in her light blouse. He decided to see if he could cause any other responses in Regina, partly because it would be teasing her a little, but also because he was thinking he'd like to breed her. He didn't really know why, but the feeling was there and it was a stronger feeling than he'd had with any of the breeders he'd bred.

"Well, once I slipped a finger inside her, I knew she was probably ready, but she was still a little stiff. I remembered what you said about breeding success being better if the breeder was very aroused, so I kept stroking her inner lips and clitoris until she rolled her head to the side and started to take panting breaths. That's when I entered her. It didn't take her long to have an orgasm after that, and that was fortunate. The way she was responding was extremely erotic and I was having difficulty not having my own orgasm before she did."

Regina squirmed in her chair because there was no doubt in her mind her panties were wet. She felt the wet warmth on the lips between her thighs. What Danny had just described was the same thing she did almost every night in her bed. She'd stroke her inner lips until they were wet with her juices and then move her finger up to the little button at the top of her lips.

The first touch of that little stiff nub would make her gasp. Gentle rubbing would make her pant. All it took then was moving that finger quickly in and out. Regina would feel the tension building inside her, building to a level that tightened the muscles in her belly, hips, and legs and was almost unbearable. Then, suddenly, that tension would explode in a release that left her gasping for breath and quivering. She could only imagine how Heather had felt at that moment.

Regina was uncomfortable about how she was reacting to what Danny told her, but she was also a little dumbfounded. They'd had this conversation many, many times and it had never affected her before. She'd always just assumed her clinical mindset and faithfully recorded what Danny said he had done. What could be the reason she couldn't do that now? The education and experience she'd gained in psychology should have been able to explain her reaction, and yet, she couldn't find any logical reason for it.

She was the same, wasn't she? Danny was the same, wasn't he? Then what was different? Regina's mind was racing for an explanation when Danny smiled. He was going to push Regina just a little to see what she did.

"I could show you if you want. You would be getting first-hand experience into what a breeder feels. That might help your study more than just talking."

Regina felt her face and chest grow warm. What Danny had just proposed was against all her training and education. A scientist was never, never, ever supposed to become personally involved in an experiment. Doing so would cause questions about ethics and validity of the data. She could not allow that to happen after so much time and money had been spent.

The warmth that was spreading down to her breasts wasn't caused by Danny's challenge to her ethics though. It was caused by her desire to let him do what he said -- excite her until she wanted him and then breed her.

It was the same thought that filled her mind when she aroused herself at night, though up until that day, the sire was just a faceless body. Now, that body had Danny's face, his broad shoulders, and his tall build. For an instant, the vision filled her mind of Danny between her open thighs, his cock buried deep inside her as the waves of her orgasm swept her away into the exquisite abyss of release.

Regina felt her stomach contract and then more wet warmth between her thighs. She took a deep breath that didn't do anything to still what was happening to her.

"Danny, I -- I think I have enough information about your experience with Heather for now. Have you given any thought to which breeder you'd like to choose to breed a second time?"

Danny smiled to himself because it was obvious he'd aroused Regina. Her face was flushed and she was breathing much faster than before he'd explained what he'd done with Heather. That in itself had started him on the road to arousal, but there was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on, but it was there. He wanted Regina, wanted to hear her gasps and moans as he aroused her. He wanted to feel the spasms that tightened her passage around his stiff, stroking cock and caused him to let go and fill her with his sperm. He wanted to feel her hands on his back as she tried to pull his cock deeper inside her as they made love.

That was it, he suddenly realized. He didn't want to breed Regina. He wanted to make love with her. That was a new feeling for him. He'd always taken great care to make sure the breeder reached orgasm, but other than a very few, it had just been his job. He couldn't think of Regina as just another breeder. She was different.

Danny smiled again.

"You're not going to like my answer."

"Danny, you know there are no wrong answers to any of my questions. What you say is just how you honestly feel. Now, which breeder would you like to breed again?"

Danny leaned forward and put his hand on Regina's knee.

"You", was all he said, and he smiled again when he felt the little tremble of Regina's leg.

Regina's mind swirled again with that same vision of her and Danny together, naked and striving for the goal of release. She caught her breath when Danny squeezed her knee gently, then stammered, "Umm, me? I'm not a breeder."

"I know and that's why".

"But I can't."

Danny slowly moved his hand a little higher up Regina's leg.

"Why? From what I'm seeing, you wouldn't be completely against the idea. You're breathing faster and your face is flushed. That's the same way the breeders react when I touch them, though it usually takes more touching in more places."

Regina knew she couldn't hide what her body was doing from Danny, but she had thought maybe he wouldn't notice. Now that he had and was absolutely correct in his assessment of her, what could she say?

"Even if I wanted to -- and I'm not saying I would - that would invalidate all my work because I'd be biased."

Danny smiled and moved his hand up a little more.

"Wouldn't it just make it easier for you to understand how a breeder feels when I breed her? I'd think that was valuable information you could never get from an interview."

Regina abruptly brushed Danny's hand off her leg and then stood up.

"I think we'd better end the interview right now."

Without waiting for Danny to respond, she walked out of the interview room and left Danny sitting there.

Academic Theories Be Damned

When she got back to her room, Regina dropped her clipboard on her desk and then sat down on the bed. What was wrong with her? What Danny had said was true. She did want him to breed her, wanted it more than she could remember ever wanting anything else. The thought had stirred something deep in her mind, something she'd never felt before.

It's just hormones, she thought, and I know how to fix that for at least a while. She stood up, took off her clothes and lay back down on the bed.

The first touch between her thighs told her she hadn't been imagining the wetness there, and she knew the reason. Her body was preparing itself to be penetrated by a man's rigid cock. She tried slipping a finger into her entrance and found it was even wetter there. The second finger she slipped in made Regina catch her breath.

With her other hand, Regina closed two fingers around her right nipple and pinched gently. The effect was immediate. She stifled the moan that threatened to slip from her throat as her belly tightened. Another pinch tightened her belly again and she felt the tension begin building in her core.

Regina's two fingers moved slowly in and out a few times, then moved up to the little smooth button at the top of her lips. Just a few strokes was all it took. Regina gasped as the first wave of spasms wracked her body, then arched up off the bed as the wave swept over her. She couldn't control what her body was doing. It just did what it felt like, and the only thing she saw in her mind was Danny's face above hers, a face wearing a mask of intense pleasure as he pumped his stiff cock in and out and spurted his sperm inside her.

Regina lay there panting until the contractions in her core mostly stopped. It was relief from the tension, but as another twinge of tightness swept over her, she realized the orgasm had done nothing to take away the vision that still filled her mind. The only thing that would do that was the vision becoming reality and that scared her.

She'd never before experienced such a longing, no, such a need, and she didn't know what to do about it. If she did as her scientist's mind was telling her, she'd put that need out of her mind and go on as she always had. The problem was the other part of her mind, the part that was screaming at her to go to Danny's room and make that vision a reality was quickly drowning out her logical self.

Her logical mind struggled to be heard through the din.

What if I got pregnant? That would be the end of my career. No, that can't happen. The W R E knew some psychologists might be tempted so all female psychologists had been temporarily sterilized by an implant. Regina felt for the implant and found the small bump on her shoulder where it had been inserted. No, she couldn't get pregnant.

What if somebody found out? That would also end my career. Then she shook her head. Like Danny had said, that wasn't likely to happen. It wasn't unusual for her to spend hours interviewing a sire or a breeder. If she and Danny were together long enough for him to breed her, everybody would just think it was part of the interview process. It was a cardinal rule that once an interview started, no one was permitted to interrupt it unless there was some life threatening emergency that required evacuation of the residence. They wouldn't be disturbed no matter how long it took.

In trying to give herself a reason why she shouldn't, all Regina had done was convince herself she could do this without any repercussions. Her logical mind then softly told her that Danny was right. She could never truly understand how a breeder felt unless she herself had had the experience.

Romanticism

That night, during dinner, Regina noticed Danny looking at her and smiling. She forced herself to look away, but secretly enjoyed the fact that he didn't seem to have lost interest in her. That was a new feeling too. She'd experienced many male scientists praising her work, but never had even one said anything about wanting to get to know her better much less have sex with her. She'd always been proud that her achievements had been recognized by her peers. Now, she was proud that Danny was recognizing her as a woman.

When dinner was over, Danny walked up to her and smiled.

"Regina, what happened today...if I offended you in any way, I apologize. All I was doing is what I always do. I was telling you my true feelings. I know nothing can come of it, but that's how I really feel."

Regina felt her emotions raging inside her, but she'd made up her mind.

"Danny, I still have a few questions I need to ask you. Could we continue the interview now?"

Danny started down the hall the interview rooms, but Regina caught his arm. She couldn't look at him when she spoke for fear she'd change her mind.

"Danny, I was thinking about someplace else, some place a little more private."

Danny felt a little tingle race up his spine. Could this be what it seemed?

"Where would you suggest?"

Regina's voice was so soft he barely heard her.

"I was thinking maybe my room if that's OK with you."

Once they were inside Regina's room, she locked the door and then turned to Danny.

"Danny, I've thought a lot about this afternoon. I'd never thought about it before, but what you said about experience is true. If you still want to...to give me that experience..."

Danny took Regina's hand in his.

"Regina, are you sure about this? If you aren't, I'll just leave."

Regina shook her head.

"No, I'm not sure, but I don't know any other way to...since this afternoon, I've been going crazy imagining how it would be and telling myself it shouldn't be but I want it to be. I can't keep going on like this. I have to know."

Danny didn't say anything. He just moved closer, took Regina in his arms and pulled her close. As his hands stroked over her back, Regina felt her skin begin to tingle. She'd never felt her breasts pressed against a man's chest before, and the feeling started a tiny little tremor in her core. When Danny's hands cupped her hips and squeezed gently, that little tremor got a little stronger, strong enough she gently backed away and smiled sheepishly.

"This is where I take off my clothes, right?"

Danny shook his head.

"No, Regina. You're not a breeder. I want to take this slow in case you change your mind. I'll undress you a little at a time. If you do change your mind, just tell me and I'll stop, no questions asked."

Danny kissed Regina then. Kissing wasn't something he usually did with a breeder. Though he'd been taught how to kiss a woman to excite her, usually it happened only when a breeder kissed him first, and he seldom felt anything. When he pulled Regina tight against him again, she closed her eyes and her mouth opened a little. Danny didn't really understand why, but it seemed like he should kiss her, so he did.

When their lips touched, Danny felt something he'd never felt before. A strange sensation raced from his lips down to his cock and caused it to begin to swell. When Regina tentatively touched his lips with her tongue, Danny knew he should do the same because he'd been taught to do that. When their tongues touched, Regina moaned, and Danny surprised himself by moaning too.

Regina had felt the kiss tighten her core. It was the same as when she excited herself, but different. It was different because it was caused by Danny. She hadn't expected it, and that made the feeling stronger, so strong she wanted to keep feeling it.

Regina pulled gently away then and whispered, "Danny, I don't want you to stop. I want to know what it feels like to be bred and I want to feel that now."

Danny continued to undress Regina slowly, taking great care to stroke her skin as soon as he'd removed the clothing covering it. He hadn't been taught to do that and yet it seemed like something he should do. That was also a new experience for him. Always with a breeder, he'd stroked her skin in the places he'd been taught, but with Regina, it was so much different.

A breeder would have been slow to respond to his touch at first. That was because most breeders were a little unsure, or at least that's what he'd learned in training. Regina seemed to instantly respond to every touch. When he stroked her bare back, she shivered, but pressed her bra-clad breasts into his chest again. When he removed her bra and then cupped her breasts, she kissed him again and then moaned into his mouth when his fingertips touched her nipples.

Danny was a little surprised when after he'd removed Regina's bra, she began unbuttoning his shirt. After undoing the last button, she put her arms around his neck and pressed her bare breasts against his bare chest. That had never happened to him before either. A breeder might pull him down on top of her after her orgasm, but usually they didn't do anything like that during the breeding.

Regina was attempting to maintain her objectivity in order to mentally record all the sensations she was feeling, but as Danny eased her pants down over her hips, then cupped her cheeks and squeezed, her thoughts slipped from remembering to just experiencing. She stepped out of her pants when he pulled them down her legs, then gasped when he slid his hands up her inner thighs.

She'd have been embarrassed to be nude in front of any other man, but when Danny began pulling her panties down, she wasn't embarrassed. She knew what Danny was going to do next because she'd watched the videos of his breedings countless times. She wasn't nervous or afraid. If anything, she wanted him to do it faster.

After Danny gently lifted her legs one at a time so he could slip the panties off her feet, he quickly removed his own clothes and then took Regina in his arms again. As with a lot of things that had just happened, he hadn't been taught to do that. It just seemed like something he should do, and once he'd felt her naked body against his, all he knew was he wanted Regina, wanted her like he'd never wanted a breeder.

He didn't understand the feeling, but it was there, the feeling that he wanted to feel his cock sliding inside her, stroking until she had an orgasm, and then letting himself go. He gently laid her down on the bed, then sat down on the edge.

When Danny slipped his index finger inside Regina to see if she was becoming aroused, that was different too. With all but a few breeders, he'd had to use a lot of stimulation before they were slippery enough his cock wouldn't hurt them when he slipped it in. Regina was already slippery with the fluid that would ease his first thrust.

Danny explored her entrance with that finger and found it was snug. Could it be that Regina had never been penetrated before? Regina answered that question by catching her breath and wincing when he tried to insert a second finger. Danny withdrew the second finger and began gently massaging the little button at the top of Regina's lips.

As he massaged with his right hand, Danny stroked Regina's breasts and nipples with his left, and when her nipples tightened, he leaned down and took the right one between his lips. Regina's hips rocked when he sucked gently, and Danny felt her hand on his head, holding him there. He sucked a little harder, and Regina moaned a little moan. Danny felt the finger inside her get a little more slippery. She was reacting faster than any breeder he'd ever bred.

Regina's mind was a blur of sensations that stopped her attempts to think. Every time Danny sucked her nipple, she felt her core tighten, and the tightening didn't completely go away when he stopped. It was like it tensed, relaxed a little and then tensed even more when he sucked her nipple again. The finger between her lips was causing even more sensations. She felt another tension building, a different tension that made her open her thighs wide and pull on Danny's shoulder. It wasn't conscious thought that made her do that. It was just something her body made her do.

When Regina began rocking her hips into his finger, Danny knew she was ready for him. He also knew he'd hurt Regina if he just did what he felt like doing and thrust his cock inside her in one quick stroke. When he felt her pulling on his shoulder, Danny knelt between her spread thighs and slipped his cock head between her swollen, slippery lips. He found her entrance and pushed in gently.

Regina gasped at the feeling, but didn't push him away. She only raised her knees and opened her thighs a little wider. Danny kept massaging the stiff, swollen little nub of flesh at the top of her lips as he began slowly pressing in and then withdrawing. After only three of these gentle strokes, Regina began lifting her hips to meet his cockhead. Danny knew she was close to having an orgasm, and had to will himself to not just ram his cock inside her. He was too close himself.

Suddenly, Regina gasped and held her breath while she lifted her hips higher. Danny felt his cockhead pressing against something soft that yielded a little. He pulled back when Regina breathed again and let her hips fall back to the mattress. She did it again when he pressed his cock in a little more firmly, then her thighs began to shake against his sides.

Danny withdrew, then pushed in again while his fingertip rapidly stroked the throbbing center of Regina's sex. She cried out, dug her nails into his back and heaved her body into the stroke. As Regina's body shook and she cried out again, Danny pushed his cock through the barrier and deep inside Regina, then gasped as his own orgasm wracked his body. He made four quick but deep strokes before he stopped. Regina continued to pant and shake for a while, and Danny held his weight on his arms and enjoyed the feeling of the contractions that seemed to milk at his cock.

Regina then let her body ease back down to the mattress, put her arms around Danny and kissed him. This time, Danny felt a different feeling. It wasn't a feeling that stiffened his cock. That wouldn't happen again for at least half an hour. It was a feeling of...he couldn't describe it, but it was there. It was kind of like the feeling he'd had with one or two breeders, but it was more intense. It was a feeling of wanting to breed Regina again, and a feeling of wanting to stay with her.

As the waves of her orgasm ebbed, Regina could think again, and she was having two thoughts. One was that she liked feeling Danny's cock inside her. It was a feeling of being content, warm, and secure. The other was that as good as it felt, it was also uncomfortable. She knew this was because Danny had taken her virginity. For a while the feeling of contentment overrode the feeling of discomfort, but when Danny's cock softened and slipped out of her, Regina winced.

Danny whispered, "Did I hurt you?"

Regina stroked his back.

"Just a little, but it wasn't bad. Everything else was more than I ever expected. I didn't realize it would be like this."

Danny kissed Regina on the forehead, something else he'd never done to a breeder, and then whispered back.

"I didn't expect it to be like this either."

She Ruined Him

Danny didn't spend the night with Regina. She said someone would notice and suspect what had happened. He dressed and went back to his room, then lay on his bed and wondered at what had just happened.

It had been so different than when he bred a breeder, but it shouldn't have been. All he'd done was show Regina how a breeder felt when he bred her. Then, he realized the difference wasn't Regina. The difference was him. He'd never felt with a breeder like he'd felt with Regina. It was like they'd been one for a while, one body straining to achieve the orgasm that both wanted and needed instead of him giving the breeder an orgasm and then enjoying his own. He fell asleep still wondering if that was right or wrong.

Strange Feelings

Regina took a shower that night, and as she washed between her thighs, she remembered how she'd felt. She didn't remember any breeder telling her she'd felt anything but a nice orgasm and relief that it was done and she was probably pregnant. That wasn't what Regina had felt, not at all. What she'd felt was a need to have Danny inside her, a need to feel his body moving against hers, and a feeling of not wanting him to stop. Was this normal, or was she letting the sensations of her first actual sex make her think that way? She fell asleep trying to analyze those feelings and put them into the context of what she'd learned in college and through experience.

Conflicting Emotions

The next morning at breakfast, Regina couldn't talk to Danny or even look at him. She was afraid she'd blurt out how she felt about what they'd done or somehow give away their secret with her expressions. Danny was the same. He was still confused. He needed to talk with Regina, but the breakfast table with the other breeders wasn't the time or the place.

That time was that afternoon. Danny had no breeders scheduled so neither he nor Regina had any interviews. He walked down to Regina's room and knocked on the door.

When she opened the door, Danny said, "We need to talk". Regina didn't say anything. She just opened the door and motioned him in. When Danny said "About, last night...", Regina cut him off.

"I think I know what you're going to say Danny. You're going to say you don't understand what happened. I don't understand it either. It was supposed to be just an experiment so I'd understand what the breeders feel, but it didn't turn out that way. I've watched hundreds of videos of breedings, and the breeders never displayed what I felt. Is that about it, the way I acted?"

Danny shook his head.

"No, that's only half of it. I've never felt the same way with a breeder either. It was like...I don't know what it was like, but it was an entirely different feeling. It didn't feel like I was breeding you. It felt like we were the same, like we were one person for a while. I don't know what to think about that. I mean, you said I was free to choose any breeder now, but...well...you're not a breeder, but when I thought about that last night, I realized the only one I want to choose is you."

Regina smiled, though she wasn't smiling inside. She was trying to think of a reason for the way they both felt that wouldn't cause Danny to hope for something that could never be.

"Danny, what I think is we've worked so closely together over the past weeks that we've become very comfortable with each other. Once you breed another breeder, you'll feel differently about me."

Danny shook his head again.

"I don't think I will. I don't think it will ever be the same with a breeder again. You said my sperm count is higher if I like the breeder. It probably won't be in the future because I'll keep remembering how it was with you."

Regina put her hand on Danny's shoulder.

"Danny, you can't think that way. There's too much at stake."

Danny put his arms around Regina's waist.

"Are you saying you don't want to do it again?"

Regina felt a tear trickle down her cheek and hastily wiped it away.

"No, Danny, I'm not saying that because I do. What I'm saying is I can't, not if I'm going to keep the study going, and I have to do that. I have to finish the study so I can learn how to improve the breeding program."

Danny let his hands slip under the waistband of Regina's pants and down to her hips. He then cupped and squeezed them gently and grinned when Regina shivered.

"I think you've learned a lot about how to improve the breeding program from just doing it once. How many breeders have you interviewed who said they want to keep being bred by the same sire?"

Regina thought for a second, then answered.

"Not many...maybe a percent or so."

Danny gently separated Regina's cheeks and stroked between them with a fingertip.

"But you think you'd like me to breed you again, right?"

Regina felt her nipples begin to swell at the thought of having Danny inside her again.

"I suppose I would. How does that help anything?"

Danny moved one hand up Regina's side until he touched her breast.

"Well, since the more times a breeder is bred, the more likely it is she'll get pregnant, doesn't it make sense to pair a breeder with a sire she wants to breed with as much as she wants instead of a sire she can breed with only once?"

Regina's tummy tightened when she felt Danny's thumb on her nipple.

"Yes, but how would that be possible? There are a lot more breeders than sires. We could never match up a different sire for each breeder."

Danny chuckled as he stroked his thumb over the stiff bump of Regina's nipple.

"You're the scientist. Can't you figure out how to do that?"

Regina pulled Danny's hand away from her breast.

"Please stop that."

Danny grinned.

"Don't you like it? If feels like you do."

"I can't think when you do that. We can't just let any man breed any woman. There are things like genetic propensity for birth defects and low intelligence and anti-social behavior that have to be considered."

Danny slipped his hand down and squeezed Regina's cheek again.

"Well, I thought about that last night. Right now, there are about six hundred thousand breeders across the globe and about forty thousand sires, right?"

Regina nodded as Danny again slipped his hand up her side and smiled when he found her nipple was still stiff.

"So, what you get is about six hundred thousand babies in a year?"

Regina shivered when Danny stroked her stiff nipple.

"Yes, but more like six twenty. Sometimes a breeder has twins."

Danny lightly pinched Regina's nipple through her bra, then smiled.

"So, what would happen if you had four million breeders and four million sires breeding every other day until the breeder was pregnant?"

Regina started to pull Danny's hand away, but then felt her core tighten enough she caught her breath.

"We'd have over four million babies in about a year. But Danny, some of those babies wouldn't be healthy and some wouldn't be a smart and --"

"Which would be better for the world population -- six hundred and twenty thousand perfect babies a year or four million with a few that aren't quite perfect?"

Regina shook her head, partly to shake off the feeling of Danny stroking her nipple and partly to have a second or two to think.

"If we did that, most of the sires wouldn't know how to make the breeder have an orgasm, and all our studies say that would lower the impregnation rate."

Danny picked Regina up and carried her to the bed, then laid her down and unbuttoned her blouse.

"They would if you taught them like I was taught."

Danny had never disclosed the details his grandmother used to tell him, when he was a little boy. The chivalrous tales of men who devoted their very lives to a woman they were.. The term was “In love”.  He knew there was a concept referred to as ‘loving’; but the term, ‘in love’ was completely alien to his current-day culture.
Mankind had so deeply obsessed itself with birth control, and fighting over-population of the earth. They had become a cult of intellect which was devoid of wisdom. They’d become a cold world.

The urgent reforms would never be adopted if the academics were made to feel threatened or discredited. The strategy required manipulating the group-think, so that the universities could claim to have discovered the concepts for the rest of the world to follow.

Policy Reforms

Regina's proposal wasn't accepted at first. It took several sessions with the W R E before they granted approval for a pilot program consisting of ten thousand sires and ten thousand breeders. A year after the program started, the impregnation rate was ninety-nine percent and the W R E increased the program from a pilot to an alternative program. A year after that, the alternative of half a million sires and half a million breeders became the standard because it was producing babies fast enough the population was beginning to increase.

The new generation of humans were allowed to live outside of the juvenile centers. If the parents agreed, the children were kept with them, in what was referred to a familation unit.

Ten years into the reforms, there were familation units with as many as 9 young offspring. The offspring were educated by the parents and socialized with other familation units.

After 20 years, the Academies declared an end of the emergency and proudly congratulated themselves for saving humanity. The new generation came of age and some cultural conflicts emerged. The youth developed their odd musical expressions, clothing and hair fashions, and even started some communes. This new generation had no interest in the symphony music which was prevalent. Instead they used crude wooden contraptions with tight strings, to accommodate their simplistic music. It was referred to as ‘folk’ music, and obsessed itself in themes about love and other such frivolous emotions that intellectuals dismissed as unproductive.

Based on the works of ron de, in 2 parts, for Literotica

Something had to be done about the ominous world population decrease.

Based on the works of ron de, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Kristin lay naked on the bed with her legs spread a little and watched as S405698 removed his clothing. Before, she'd been nervous, but eager. Now, as he removed his underwear and his erect cock bobbed free, she was nervous and a little afraid. It was her first time in six months, the celibacy period mandated by her contract, and she was a little fearful of how it would feel. He looked large - not particularly long, but really thick. Matt, her former partner, hadn't been so thick and it always felt like he stretched her a lot.

He smiled as he approached.

"This your first time here?"

Kristin nodded her confirmation.

He smiled again and stroked her right breast.

"Just relax, and I'll make this great for both of us. Do you have a favorite position?"

Kristin's voice was almost a whisper.

"I thought it made a difference and we'd have to do it with you on top."

He chuckled.

"That's just an old wives tale. All the data says it really doesn't matter as long as you have an orgasm. Usually it doesn't matter even if you don't providing the time is right, but I'll make sure you do. Now, what do you like? I read your application, but some women have special things they like and are too embarrassed to write them down. It's just you and me here, and it will be better for us both if I know."

Kristin thought for a moment. Should she tell him, could she tell him, that having her nipples pinched tight and then pulled would send her into a blinding orgasm? Would he think she was weird if she told him that?

He smiled when she didn't answer.

"You won't shock me, I promise. I've heard everything from 'spank me really hard' to 'pull my hair' to 'tell me I'm just a brood cow and you're going to breed me like a bull'. There have been other things too, but those are probably the most common."

Kristin smiled coyly.

"Well...I like it best when I'm on my hands and knees...and I like my nipples pinched hard and then pulled."

He smiled again.

"That's one of my favorites too. Before we do that, let's get you ready."

Kristin was quiet when he began stroking her breasts, but caught her breath when he lightly brushed her nipples with his fingertips. When he nuzzled her breast and then closed his lips around her right nipple, she closed her eyes so she could feel every little tingle. After he stroked down her side and then slipped a fingertip between her puffy lips, she wasn't afraid anymore. She just felt the craving building, the craving to be penetrated by his thick cock, and then taken to the point her body would convulse as the orgasm sent her into a blinding fog of sensations.

That was when he'd pump his seed into her, the thick, white, sticky ropes carrying his sperm that would find their way to her womb and impregnate her. She wouldn't feel the spurts, she knew that, but she'd feel his thick cock throb inside her when he did it. Some women in her group who were there for the second or third time said they thought they could feel it splatter inside them, but Kristin never had. All she'd ever felt were the contractions that twisted her belly in a knot, caused her legs to turn to jelly, and made her hips writhe around the cock inside her.

And so it was that day. He stroked his finger in and out, then used two fingers to stroke deep while his thumb lightly brushed her clit, and all the time, his mouth sucked and pulled at her nipples. By the time he turned her over and lifted her hips so she was on her hands and knees, she'd felt the orgasm building twice. He'd stopped his stroking fingers and thumb then, but as soon as her hips stopped rocking into his hand, he started again.

Kristin had just gotten to her hands and knees when she felt him spread her lips and then slide his rigid cock between them. She was so wet by then there wasn't much sensation until his cock head touched her clit. Her body jerked when that happened and she tried to move forward so his cock was at her entrance.

He wouldn't let her do that though. He just kept stroking his cock between her wet, swollen lips until his cock head and shaft glistened with the slippery/sticky wetness that flowed from her entrance when she tightened her belly. He smiled to himself at how well he'd excited her.

That was a point of personal pride with him. He'd been taught the mechanics, but his real education had come from a woman named Barbara. She'd been very forward about what she liked and didn't like, and one of the things she liked was being teased until she was gasping for breath and her wetness flowed enough it trickled from her entrance and then down between her ass cheeks.

He knew Kristin was ready when she began pushing back against him, trying to get his cock inside her. He hoped she was close to an orgasm because when a breeder acted like this one was acting, he sometimes had trouble holding back until she came. It wasn't the way she moaned and panted. It was the way her lips gradually swelled and then opened when he spread her legs a little more.

Kristin felt him pushing his cock head at her entrance and then the feeling of him stretching her open. It didn't happen all at once like she thought it might. After all, he was being paid to breed her, not to make love to her and she thought he'd want to do it as fast as possible.

He didn't though, and Kristin couldn't hold back the moan as his thick, swollen cock head eased into the snug spot just inside her entrance. She moaned again when he pushed deeper and she felt him fill that tight ring. He didn't keep going then. He just pushed in and out right there, making his cock head stretch her open and then letting her close a little. In less than a minute, Kristin was unconsciously pushing back at his cock and trying to get him inside her all the way.

He did push harder then, and Kristin gasped as his cock head slipped past that snug spot but the stretching feeling didn't lessen. It was still there, the same pressure that sent little tingling sensations to her brain and her core. Those sensations tightened her belly and took every thought from her mind except the exquisite stretching and his hands on her breasts.

He was carefully watching what she did, and when he began hearing her rasping, panting breaths knew she was close. He moved his hands from cupping her full, hanging breasts to close his fingertips on her swollen nipples. When he pinched them lightly, she moaned. He pinched harder and felt her passage clamp down on his cock.

She rammed her body back when he pinched harder still, hard enough he knew he was flattening her nipples between his index fingers and thumbs, and she started to make continuous little moans. It would only take a little more and she'd have the orgasm she needed to have for it to be nearly certain he'd impregnate her.

He pulled down hard then and stretched her breasts out into cones. She shrieked and he felt her begin to shake. She started to sag then because her legs were shaking, so he put his left hand under her belly to hold her up, and began pushing his cock in and out a little faster. In moments, she began to murmur something he couldn't understand, and when he pulled hard on her right nipple, she shrieked and started to writhe her hips. As soon as he felt her body jerk the first time, he allowed himself to let go. With a groan, he pushed his cock in until his belly flattened her shaking hips and then felt the surge race up his cock and inside her. Three more times, he gasped as his cock went home and another surge flew out the tip.

She was still making little mewing cries and pushing back into his cock when he groaned and felt another tightening in his cock. That one would be just a dribble, but it would add to the amount he could already feel leaking out of her and onto the mattress.

It wouldn't matter if some leaked out. He could feel her body moving now, feel her passage contract and then push out, then contract again. Her body was doing what it was supposed to do, dipping the tip of her womb into the sperm that covered it and helping the sperm find its way inside.

He kept his cock in her and stroking until it got soft enough it was just bending when he stroked in. He pulled out then, but held her lips closed with two fingers until he couldn't feel the little contractions anymore. He knew it wouldn't matter if he did that, but he liked the way most women reacted when he lightly pinched their lips together and then moved them around. This one was no exception. She purred out a little moan and then her hips rocked a little.

She was lying on her back when he got dressed, and just before he left; she blew him a kiss and said "Thank you".

He grinned.

"The pleasure was mine."

The Emptiness

As Danny walked back to his room, he smiled at his fortune to be one of the chosen males. It was partly because of his intelligence but also because of his build. He was a little over six feet tall, depending upon the time of day, and was a lean and strong hundred and seventy pounds. That had been enough to get him the position, and when his sperm count was higher than average, that was an added advantage.

He didn't know how many women he'd impregnated, but he knew he'd been mated with about a hundred and fifty over the past two years. He figured he had about another ten years of service left, give or take, as long as his sperm count remained at least average. By that time, the crisis would have been avoided and though the breeding program would still be required, the natural process of reproduction would again be helping to populate the earth.

In another four days, Danny would have another appointment with a woman probably between the ages of nineteen and twenty-nine. There had been women as old as forty in the beginning, but anything over twenty-nine was considered a little old now. A breeder could be bred only every two years, and the sociologists had all agreed that after the age of thirty, the breeder should concentrate on child rearing. A woman who was nineteen at her first breeding was optimal. She could be bred seven times before retiring.

The other issue with a woman's age was fertility. After the age of thirty, it sometimes took two breedings to impregnate her, and that wasted sperm. Women as old as forty had been used to get things started though, because not using every available and willing woman would have been catastrophic. A few women over thirty were still being bred, but those were women with exceptionally high intelligence, nearly perfect physical traits, and strong mothering instincts.

Foundational Knowledge

The federation authorities were not going to question the sages of the academics. Science must never be questioned by the unenlightened; and certainly not publicly opposed. It was met with swift re-education orders, and the rebels who dared challenge the sages were taken to institutions where they were re-educated. Sometimes they were further treated with pharmaceuticals to bring ‘balance’ to their temperament, before slowly being re-introduced to the civilian populations.

Mandated Abstinence Phase

Four days of rest was optimal for Danny according to the testing he'd been through. Some sires needed as many as six, but four days gave his body a chance to replenish his sperm and gave his mind a chance to rest from the concentration required to ensure the woman had an orgasm. During those days, he'd sleep, eat, stay in shape with a workout or a swim, and do little else other than take a class or two in how to arouse women. Danny didn't really need the classes in how to cause orgasms in most women, but there were some women who needed what Judy, the instructor, called "special handling", so he'd take at least one.

Judy always taught the classes nude so she could demonstrate, and Danny wished she was one of the breeders. While he was skilled in producing orgasms in any woman, he sometimes had to concentrate on producing his own if the breeder had small breasts or narrow hips. Judy had the large, heavy breasts and sensuous, wide hips, the same characteristics that always made it easy for him to fill a breeder with his sperm. Unfortunately for him, Judy was forty-eight and no longer fertile. Coupling with her would have been an exquisite experience, he thought, but would have also been a waste of his sperm.

He'd have liked being the first to breed her because she was probably quite a woman when she was nineteen, but in those days, things were done a little differently. Most matings were natural then, and the selection process was left up to the individuals involved.

A Dying Human Race

No one could put a single, concrete reason to the lack of population growth the world was experiencing during the early 2000's, but it was definitely a problem and it was growing quickly. In 2015, the population of the globe was a little over seven billion and growing slowly. By 2030, that number had stabilized because the death rate was about equal to the birth rate. Medical science had not been able to find a way to extend the life of any individual. All evidence appeared to point to a biologically programmed "expiration date" for the human body.

It was estimated by the W H O that with the current declining birth and steady death rates, in ten years the population of Earth would be nearly halved and would continue to decline at a rate of about eight percent per year. Within twenty years because of geographical dispersion, the human species would effectively be extinct. A few small pockets of humans would exist in the major cities, but would quickly begin to suffer from congenital diseases and defects cause by lack of genetic diversity.

There were various theories for the decrease in birth rate proposed, but the problem was worldwide, so culture was not a major influence. What appeared to be the cause were several major changes in how people thought about their roles in society.

Some sociologists thought the problem began in the 1960's with the so-called "free love" generation. The culture of the "hippies" changed sex into something anyone could enjoy and they did. Women learned about having orgasms and men learned that having an orgasm at the same time as your partner was much more enjoyable than basically using a woman to masturbate with instead of using their hands. The advent of the birth control pill furthered this "sex without guilt" mentality because it nearly eliminated the risk of pregnancy.

Other sociologists thought it was the generation of children born to the free-love generation. While when they were young, most of the free-love generation had rejected normal jobs and careers, as they got older, they fell into line behind their parents. The difference was they made more money than their parents and could afford to give their children more. Those children grew up and became selfish because they'd seldom had to wait for anything.

When they looked back at their parents, what they saw were people who had sacrificed a lot to give their children what everybody else's children had, from new bikes to the latest style in clothing to the limousine that took them to their high school prom. According to the sociologists, that realization made them vow to not have children so they didn't have to sacrifice anything in their quest for self-satisfaction. Better and safer birth control methods made that goal a reality.

It was obvious to most nations in the world that if the birth rate continued to decline, long before human extinction became reality there would be fewer young people working to support the world economy while there were more older people consuming the results of that economy. Infrastructure would deteriorate because of the lack of labor to keep it running, and food would be an ever-increasing problem because of the lack of agricultural workers. The social safety-net systems such as medical care and financial support in the form of the various government entitlement systems would suffer a spiraling decline in input while their outlay would continually increase.

The result was the formation of the "W R E - the acronym for "World Re-population Effort" - by the leaders of every developed country on the globe. This organization was separate from the United Nations because world leaders knew the problem had to be solved quickly. Any committee of the United Nations would only hold meaningless votes on meaningless, non-binding resolutions for years. There would likely be UN diplomats continuing to argue over infinitesimal details even as the light of human existence slowly flickered out.

After six months of debate about the practical and ethical considerations, the W R E embarked upon a solution. That solution was to offer free medical care, free housing, and financial support for life to any woman, single or married, who would agree to be impregnated and raise the child to adulthood. The program was funded by the World Bank after that organization was appraised of the consequences of doing nothing.

In the manner of all government programs, the W R E wrote a glossary of accepted terms. Women participating in the program were designated as "Base Re-population Donor Recipients " or the acronym "BRDR". Men serving as sperm donors were designated as "Sperm Inception Reservoirs ", or "SIR". Both terms were to be used in any and all public correspondence and conversation, but in private conversations in the W R E clinics, the doctors and nurses used the somewhat phonetic pronunciations of "Breeder" and "Sire". To guarantee anonymity but allow for detailed tracking, in all records breeders were given a number -- a "B" followed by a sequential number. Sires were likewise numbered by an "S" followed by a sequential number.

In the early stages of the program, it was felt the breeding should proceed by clinical means to guarantee conception happened in a sterile environment, so the breeder was impregnated by artificial insemination. The success rate was relatively poor, being only about thirty percent for women under thirty and only about ten percent for women between thirty and thirty-five.

After multiple studies that all proved inconclusive relative to how to improve that success rate by artificial means, some old data about the success of natural conception was compared to the new data. The old data demonstrated almost a seventy percent conception success rate for women between nineteen and thirty-five if the woman was monitoring her fertility and her partner's sperm count was average. The success rate was still over fifty percent even if the woman did no monitoring.

As a result, the W R E began a trial program of natural matings between sires and breeders. The success rate was the predicted sixty-five to seventy percent if the breeder didn't have an orgasm, seventy-five percent if she did, and eighty percent if she had an orgasm and the sire had a high sperm count. After a year of the trial, this method became the norm.

It was also determined during the trial program that virgins seldom conceived at the first mating, while all fell within the predicted ranges after the second. The doctors and psychologists employed by the W R E stated this was for two reasons. Most women experienced some amount of pain when their maidenhead was broken and that pain prevented them from having an orgasm. The other reason was that many women reported being too nervous about their first experience with intercourse and so couldn't let themselves relax and enjoy the same experience they always enjoyed when masturbating.

The solution developed was to pair a virgin breeder with an experienced sire who had been taught to understand she might be apprehensive and had been taught how to overcome that tendency as well as to minimize the pain she might feel.

In both types of breeders, those who were virgins and those who were not, their sires were selected to compliment and accent the characteristics of intelligence and physical development. That topic, standards for pairing breeders and sires, was the topic most debated through the program development.

While throughout most of human civilization, mate selection was mostly random and served to continue proliferation of the strongest genes, there were always some children born who had a difficult time fitting into that civilization. With the advent of the sequencing of the human genome and subsequent deciphering of which gene did what, it was possible to eliminate these mistakes of nature.

Utilization of that ability did not upset most people when the program was proposed. After all, what person would desire to produce a child with a mental or physical deformity or a propensity toward a life of crime?

The selections would be random, but random among volunteers deemed to guarantee the resulting offspring would be the best humankind could produce. While race of the sire would be an option selectable only by the breeder, the characteristics of mental and physical health and mental stability would take precedence over any other criteria.

All breeders and sires had their DNA sequenced and categorized relative to genetic disposition toward both traits considered good and bad. When a breeder signed her contract, she was given a list of potential sires. The sires on that list were matched to her DNA to yield a child with above average intelligence, no propensity for development of congenital disease or physical deformity, and most importantly, no tendencies to resist the codes of society.

It was impossible to find breeders and sires with no undesirable genetic characteristics, so the pairing routine matched breeders with undesirable characteristics with sires who had the genetic makeup to counteract those characteristics. In this manner, the new population would be stronger, more intelligent, and there would be little, if any, crime.

While there were still babies being naturally conceived by couples, that was both a blessing and a concern. Those babies were needed to re-populate the planet, but some of those babies would develop the unfavorable characteristics dictated by their DNA.

After some deliberation about methods of guaranteeing proper genetic makeup of all children born, the W R E concluded that the number of such children produced by natural matings would be small compared to the number of planned births. That number would be small enough that any mental abnormalities could be handled by the current methods of incarceration or psychiatric treatment. Physical abnormalities would be handled by corrective surgery or prosthetics. Both would disappear in a generation or two anyway.

The initial year of the program proved the potential of the plan. The initial two thousand sires chosen from all over the world had each been mated with between sixty and eighty breeders each, and the result was eighty-three thousand babies.

The impregnation rate was a disappointing sixty- percent, but this was attributed to the age of some of the breeders. The second year, the number of sires was increased to six thousand, the number of breeders by two hundred fifty thousand, and eleven months later, the number of births was over three hundred and fifty thousand births.

At that rate of impregnation, within one generation, the population of the Earth would be well on the way to return to the levels of the early 2000's. Given that the selection process matched breeders and sires for both physical and mental characteristics, those new individuals would have a natural desire to reproduce and the resulting children would return the world's birthrate to a percentage that would match the world's death rate.

Several psychologists had warned of the unintended consequence of a planned and organized breeding program. After an entire generation of men and women had been conceived, born, and raised to the state of adulthood, they might resolve themselves to arranged breedings as the norm.

It wasn't hard for Danny to believe that would be the case. He seldom felt anything for any breeder he impregnated. It was just his job, albeit a very pleasant job. He knew the other sires felt much the same way.

Technology of Insemination

After Danny filled out his after-breeding report detailing the experience - the breeding position used, what techniques he had used to arouse her, had the breeder achieved an orgasm or not, and a short written statement of his impressions of the breeder - he sent the electronic form to the central computer and then sat down to reflect upon what he had written.

Danny didn't think anybody actually read his comments, but in actuality, they were the most important data on the form to the psychiatrists monitoring the breeding program. They understood that there would be some mental stress if men were coupled with anonymous women by a computer program rather than by natural means.

Female humans were biologically programmed to seek a single mate to care for and to protect them and to mingle their genetic makeup with a male who made them feel safe and secure. Using a computer program to match breeders and sires was contrary to that programming and could cause stress which would prevent the breeder from conceiving.

As a result, every breeder received counseling before being bred. The counseling sessions were intended to make the breeder accepting of the sire by pointing out how the sires available to her were compatible with her list of likes and dislikes. While a few breeders were still hesitant, the method worked for most and they readily chose a sire from the list.

Studies had shown that once the breeder was pregnant, the resulting hormonal changes would minimize the instinct to bond with a male and replace that instinct with the instinct to nurture the child. No counseling was required for a breeder until the next breeding.

Sires were a different problem. Sires experienced no changes in hormone types or levels as a result of breeding a breeder, and were prone to follow their instincts when breeding. Those instincts were to breed as many females as possible in order to successfully pass on their genes, but there were some conditions unique to each sire that caused the breeding instinct to manifest itself.

There were the usual conditions of mental compatibility and personality, but those could be sorted and matched based upon the genetic data for each breeder and each sire. The condition that could not be predicted was attraction of the breeder to the sire. This was because the primary attraction was physical beauty. Physical beauty was evaluated differently by each sire and appeared to be "learned" rather than genetic because there were no markers in the genome that correlated with any sire's initial psychological analysis or his after-breeding reports.

As a result, each sire receive special counseling between breedings. These counseling sessions were one-on-one interactions between the sire and a psychiatrist and took the form of observation and discussion between the two of pictures of women representing all races, body types and facial features. The sire would explain what he liked and didn't like about a particular woman and why. The psychiatrist would then attempt to determine and explain the reasons for the sire's evaluation with the hope future matings would be more in accord with each sire's preferences.

The psychiatrist who worked with Danny was Regina Allison. Regina was very skilled in her field, but hadn't made much headway with Danny. She thought she understood why.

While most sires had a strong desire to breed and would accept almost any breeder, over time a curious anomaly was seen. If they reported the breeder was attractive, it was usual that impregnation would result from one breeding. If that attractiveness was not there, the sire would still breed the breeder, but about twenty-five percent of the time a subsequent breeding would be required.

The anomaly did not appear to be a result of something the breeders were doing. A breeder that required two breedings when bred to one sire would conceive at the first breeding with another sire of similar characteristics. Regina began to concentrate on the sire as the possible cause of the anomaly.

She had studied this phenomena over the period of a year by collecting sperm samples from freshly serviced breeders and making a sperm count, and then interviewing the sire to determine his thoughts about the particular breeder. All her data indicated that a sire tended to react by withholding sperm from those breeders he found less than attractive. Regina believed the sire's brain was regulating the number of sperm expelled in order to maintain a reserve for a breeder the sire found attractive.

Regina had put her data into a proposal for the W R E, and had been given approval for a pilot program of one sire and twenty breeders. She had selected Danny as her sire, and he would select the twenty breeders from a group who were genetically matched to him.

It was the day of his appointment after breeding Kristin that she proposed her pilot program to Danny.

"Danny, you've been a sire for almost two years now. We've talked about your opinions of various breeders before, and I must say our conversations have been interesting. I find it fascinating that you really want a mental connection with the breeders.

"As you already know from the weekly sessions, the average impregnation rate for the total program is about seventy-five percent. I and the other psychologists have been studying all breedings to determine why our average isn't higher.

"We have discovered an interesting correlation between the after-breeding report from our sires and the impregnation rate. Our data suggests if a sire finds a breeder less than - for lack of a better word, I'll use 'attractive' - if a sire finds a breeder less than attractive, his impregnation success is reduced. The correlation is there for every sire I have studied.

"When I looked for a cause, the data demonstrated the sire's sperm count present at the time of breeding was lower for less attractive breeders while sperm count for more attractive breeders was at or even a little higher than the base line sperm count for that sire. Sperm count correlated extremely well with impregnation success and by inference, to the attractiveness of the breeder to the sire. I have found no correlation of any breeder characteristic across the range of sires studied. It appears as though attractiveness is a variable unique to each sire.

"You've been successful in impregnating almost all breeders, and in fact, your average impregnation rate is about eighty-nine percent, but you are very similar to other sires. Your sperm count decreases when you breed a woman who does not match the characteristics you find most attractive. It is probable that your high baseline sperm count minimizes the difference in your success at breeding breeders of different characteristics."

Danny was a little confused. It was true that he found some breeders more attractive than others, but he didn't know how that could affect his sperm count. He also didn't think it made much difference as long as the breeder impregnation rate remained high.

"What difference does it make as long as the breeder is impregnated? Isn't that the point - for sires to impregnate the breeders matched with them?"

Regina frowned.

"If it was that simple, no, it wouldn't make any difference. The problem is that unlike you, some sires have an impregnation rate in the order of ninety percent if they find the breeder attractive, but only fifty percent if they don't. The data says the problem is related to sperm count, and we don't understand why and how a sire can vary it.

"We understand you can't intentionally change your sperm count, but there are still a lot of things we don't know about the human brain. What my data shows about you is that your sperm count is lower when you breed a woman with small breasts than when you breed a woman with large breasts. The same data correlates with several other factors you've related in your post-breeding reports.

"Your sperm count is about average with blonde breeders, lower than average with breeders with black hair, and higher than average with breeders with brown or red hair. You apparently also favor breeders with fuller figures over slender figures.

"The many variations of male preferences have been documented by multiple studies, but it was never suspected those preferences would affect reproduction. What I believe is your brain subconsciously controls your sperm count based upon your evaluation of the breeder. It's probably a vestige of instinct from the early days of man and would ensure the variability of the gene pool.

"Now, we find ourselves in the position of requiring rapid population growth while still maintaining variability in the gene pool. To accomplish that goal, we need to have impregnation rates in the order of at least eighty percent. The only way to do that is a controlled study to determine if sperm count is truly affected by the attractiveness of the breeder to the sire. I want you to be part of that study."

Danny couldn't see how any study could be much different than what he was already doing. It would probably be more interesting than just breeding a different breeder every four days.

He shrugged.

"I guess I can. What do I have to do?"

Regina smiled.

"I hoped you'd say yes. Here is the plan I've laid out.

Regina's plan didn't sound any different than what he'd already been doing, and that's what he told Regina. She smiled again.

"Breeder selection is the real difference. Each week, I'll give you the applications of six breeders along with a picture of them both clothed and nude. You'll choose the breeder you prefer from those six. The other five will be matched with other sires just as happens today."

Regina pursed her lips then.

"Danny, there is one other change of which you need to be aware. Sociologists have been concerned about the feasibility of children being raised only by breeders. As part of this study, each of the breeders will stay with us until they give birth. Once you've bred all twenty, you'll be able to choose which breeder you'd like to breed again even if she's already pregnant.

Danny chuckled.

"It sounds like you're going to give me a harem to take care of."

Regina grinned.

"In some respects that is what it is. After she gives birth, those breeders and their children will stay with us to be bred again, this time as you see fit. In this way we can correlate your initial after-breeding report results with the breedings in subsequent years. You'll have your choice of breeder, your choice of the timing, and of course, her acceptance to be bred again by you."

Danny smiled.

"That might be nice, but I don't think twenty women and their children are going to fit in my room."

Regina waved her hands.

"No, they won't, but they will fit in the house that's nearly finished. The house is being built a hundred kilometers from the city limits on one of the auto-farms. We felt that it would be easier for you and the breeders and their children to develop relationships if the setting was of a more private nature."

When Danny saw what Regina had called the breeding study house, he was amazed at how much she'd understated the size. It wasn't a house. It was a mansion. On one wing of the first floor was a dining room with several tables that Danny figured would sit at least sixty people. The center part of the house was a huge living area with couches and chairs for at least a hundred people. These were arranged in groups around the twenty televisions that lined the walls. On the other wing of the house was the kitchen and quarters for the twenty service people who would do the cooking, cleaning, and grounds work.

The second floor consisted of twenty-three apartments, each with a small living area, two bedrooms and a bath. One of those apartments would be Danny's and across the hall was a breeding room. Unlike the breeding rooms at the W R E breeding center, this one was equipped with video cameras located to provide six different views of the breeding bed. Regina said her apartment would be adjacent to the breeding room.

The third floor was a small functioning hospital that would be mainly used as a maternity hospital with two examination rooms, two labor rooms, two delivery rooms and two operating rooms along with living quarters for three doctors -- a general practitioner, an obstetrician, a surgeon, and six nurses. Their quarters were also on the third floor. Regina told Danny the hospital was equipped to handle almost any emergency though it's primary function would be as a birthing center.

A week later, the new location was complete with a small staff, and Danny and Regina moved in. That afternoon, Regina brought six folders to Danny.

"These are the first group. What I want you to do is look at them all, and record what you think on a form that is the same form as the new after-breeding report.

Then, select the breeder you like best and I'll have her moved here. She'll be ready to breed anytime in the next six days, so you have some time to decide."

After dinner, Danny sat down with the folders and read all the applications. The applications were somewhat different than the applications he'd read before. The applications he was used to only contained height and weight along with a psychiatrist's evaluation of the breeder and a picture of the breeder's face. The new applications included a lot more physical data such as body measurements along with a statement by the breeder of her expectations from the program. There were also four pictures included, two of the breeder's full body, dressed and in frontal and profile views, and two of the breeder nude in the same poses.

The other difference was the breeders were identified by breeder number as had always been the case, but this time, each breeder was also identified by a first name. Danny found knowing the first name of the breeders was somehow comforting. He'd never known that information before and all breeders were told not to tell him their name.

Danny didn't pay much attention to the written part of the applications. Instead, he spread all the pictures out on his desk so he could compare them. He was surprised by two things.

There was a huge difference in how he saw each breeder when she was dressed versus when she was nude. When the breeder was dressed, his attention was drawn to her face and hair. When she was nude, his attention was drawn to her breasts, waist, hips, and legs. He found that with some of the six, he was attracted to the face of a breeder, but not to her body, and sometimes it was the other way around. Only one seemed to be attractive both ways, a blonde named Barbara.

Barbara had a face that pleased him, and although her breasts weren't especially large and her hips weren't as wide as some, he found himself comparing all the other pictures to the pictures of her.

He hadn't expected that to happen. What he'd expected was that he'd be attracted to more than one and would have to choose between them. When Danny filled out the selection form, he rated the women honestly, and even though some of their scores were higher than Barbara's, he still checked the box on her form as the breeder he'd selected.

When Danny gave the folders back to Regina, she looked at his evaluations and the check mark on Barbara's form, but only said, "I'll have her here in two days. She'll be ready to breed two days after that."

It felt odd to meet Barbara and to get to know her during the two days before the scheduled breeding. Before, Danny had only had a few minutes with a breeder before beginning the breeding process. He wasn't certain how to act, and he thought Barbara was a little confused as well. It was like when he was in high school and on a first date with a girl.

After dinner the first night, he was more comfortable with her and she with him. After dinner the second night, Danny found himself liking Barbara. She was intelligent and had a sense of humor. The next afternoon, he enjoyed breeding Barbara because of that feeling. It was different, somehow, and Danny liked the difference.

Over the rest of the week, they met for dinner and by the time Regina brought him the next six folders, they were talking about what they liked and didn't like and what their thoughts were about the future.

From the next set of six breeders, Danny selected Jessica, a breeder with the skin tone that told him she was Hispanic, very large breasts, and wide hips. Danny selected her mostly because she looked very confident in both the pictures of her dressed and nude. He found she was indeed confident when they talked over the next two days. Breeding Jessica was also a pleasure for Danny because she was as confident about being bred as she was in her pictures. Her favorite position was riding him, and he had to concentrate on not cumming before she did. After she came, she pressed her big breasts into his chest and sighed, "I want to do this again."

The conditions of Danny's contract with the W R E made that impossible until he'd bred all twenty breeders for the study, but he wondered if the second time might be better than the first. He talked to Regina about that when they had his post-breeding session. Regina asked him the questions she always asked and Danny gave her the answers. When she finished filling out the form, Regina asked Danny if he had anything to add.

Danny frowned.
To be continued in part 2, Based on the works of ron de, in 2 parts, for Literotica

Estelle’s Training.Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.



"I feel a wetness."

Estelle sighed as my fingertip again stroked between her puffy outer lips.

"Yes, it is because you are arousing my passions. The flow will increase as I become more excited. It is so to ease the passage of your cock when that time comes."

I confess I was ready for that time to come at that moment, but refrained from acting upon that urge. Instead, I continued my examination of Estelle's cunny, for having never seen one, I was very curious.

I parted her lips and saw inside another pair of lips. They were much more slender and were an exciting series of ripples that originated at the soft fold of skin at the top of her cunny, the same soft fold I had touched before. As my fingertip traced between those ripples, they seemed to grasp and flow around it. Estelle would also make a tiny little mewing sound with each touch.

As Estelle had predicted, I soon saw a small amount of her slippery/sticky fluid flow from between the lips I stroked. She moaned then, and reached for my hand.

"One finger now; inside my portal; and move it in and out."

I was not certain where such a portal might be located, but reasoned the fluid must originate from that spot. Slowly I moved my fingertip down, probing gently as I did so, until it slipped into a spot that seemed to mold itself around the finger. As I began moving that finger in and out as Estelle had instructed, her hips rocked and she moaned again.

"Yes, Johnathan; that is the way. You stir my fires as they have not been stirred in some time. Pray add another finger to the one that gives me so much pleasure."

The second finger was a snug fit and I was somewhat concerned about injuring Estelle. I inserted it slowly, and when it joined the first in her warm, wet depths, began stroking both in and out. Estelle rocked her hips again, then began lifting her body into each push of my hand.

I felt Estelle's hand on my thigh and looked down. As I watched, she slipped her slender fingers up my thigh and then grasped my rigid cock and began stroking its length. To say that was pleasant would be to say a downpour is slightly damp. My mind was nearly carried away with the sensations she caused with her soft fingers. I knew what was to come soon, and wished she would instruct me to plunge my cock inside her lest I spill my seed on her hand.

She stroked me at the same pace as I moved my fingers in and out of her cunny for a while, then pulled on my stiff cock.

"Put your cock in my cunny now and move it as you do your fingers."

Estelle opened her thighs wide as I knelt between them, and pulled at my cock to guide it to the opening. Once she found the place with my swollen cock, she pulled on it again. I, in turn, pushed in.

The feeling of my cock slipping into her slippery warmth was indescribable. Estelle pulled at my hips to push it deeper inside her, and kept pulling until I felt my sack touching the cleft between her hips. She gasped when the base of my cock spread her lips and flattened them against her body, then sighed when I began stroking.

"Ah; it has been so long I am nearly at my end already."

I was not certain what she meant, but continued to stroke my cock in and out. After only a few moments, I felt my sack tighten and the now familiar feeling that meant I would spew my seed. Knowing the inevitable outcome, I attempted to pull out of her clasping depths that my seed would not be squirted inside her. Estelle gasped, "No; inside me" and then began rocking her hips wildly.

Controlling my actions then became an impossibility, for her gyrations had rendered any such attempt useless. Moments later, I felt the first spurt erupt from my cock when it was at its deepest penetration of her cunny.

Estelle cried out then, and arched her back. My second spurt splashed inside her as she arched higher and then began such a quaking and rocking it was difficult to keep my cock inside her. I did manage in spite of all her motions. With a groan, I thrust my cock deep and shot the last spurt as she cried out and then fell back to the bed.

Estelle wrapped her legs over my back then and held my cock inside her. She sighed and stroked my back.

"Hmm; this first lesson was quite satisfying. You are an apt apprentice."

"I only did as you instructed."

"Yes, but you did so with the great vigor I enjoy. I believe I will have to give you another lesson shortly."

And so Estelle did that night, two more lessons actually. For the second, she taught me of the ways to increase her passion by the rubbing of what she called her pearl. Once she had released me from the entrapment of her legs, I found that nub of flesh had come out from under a little fold of skin at the top of her cunny lips. It was very pink and very stiff, and when I touched it, Estelle nearly jumped into the air.

"Oh, yes; gently now, but continue and I will soon want to be skewered on your wonderful cock again."

The skewering did happen after a while, and Estelle proved to be even more active in her body movements. As I had already spent once, I was able to restrain myself, and continued to stroke my cock in and out of her swollen cunny lips until she cried out loudly and heaved herself up off the bed. The shaking of her body then was more than I could bear. My cock splattered her clasping passage with more of my seed.

The third lesson was the same, except the duration was longer. I attributed this to the partial sating of Estelle's desire and to the fact I had spent most of the seed my body had stored. Still, the ending was every bit as wonderful as the first two, and left me gasping for breath as Estelle pulled me down on top of her. I felt her teats press into my chest as she held me tight. After a few moments, she chuckled.

"I do believe you have a talent for this work."

I also chuckled.

"It was not work, Ma'am. Nothing so enjoyable could be called work."

Estelle stroked my back.

"Be that as it may, you have learned your skills well. Were the hour not late and were I not satisfied for the moment, we would have yet another lesson. I shall leave you for my own bed for now, but we shall continue our lessons when my husband is again away. Do not forget what you have learned tonight."

Estelle then rose from my bed and clasped her hand over her cunny. She chuckled and remarked the next time she would bring a cloth to stop the flow of our juices from her body, then left my bedchamber for her own. I slipped under the blanket and thought of my new teaching.

I was still somewhat fearful of her husband discovering the truth, but then realized Estelle had as much to fear as did I. Her husband would surely cast out both her and I were he to know of our coupling. That understanding caused my fears of discovery to wane, and I fell asleep knowing I would welcome any lessons she desired to teach me.

Still, I was apprehensive for the next two days, but found my fears to be unfounded. Estelle greeted her husband upon his return with a kiss and an embrace, and fixed us a special dinner that evening. Though I watched carefully from the corners of my eyes, she did not so much as look at me through the course of the meal.;

Master Eaton did inquire as to my progress with the manufacture of Estelle's new lantern and I showed him the various pieces I had shaped and filed. He was pleased and suggested I might make various piercings on the sides that the lantern would cast a pleasing pattern of light upon any surface near it when lit.

There were several patterns for such piercings in the shop, but when I examined them, I found them not to my liking. Instead, I drew a new pattern of piercings that pleased me. Upon showing them to Master Eaton, he remarked they were unique and fit for the lantern of his wife. I set about using a sharp punch to make the series of small holes of the design in the four sides of the lantern above the openings for the glass panels.;

Our business began to increase with the cool breezes and shorter days of autumn. The women of the village required new pans for baking of the usual holiday treats, and the waning daylight forced the use of lanterns even in the early evening. Master Eaton and I were busy in the shop from early light to dusk in fashioning these items. As a result, our supply of tin plate quickly required replacing.

I had thought to go with him to the mill for I had never done so, but at the last market, all the pastry cutters we had were purchased and still the women wished for more. He instructed me to stay in the shop and make as many as possible for the next market day.

I was happy with this decision for two reasons. I had the week prior to the market day fashioned a few cutters in the shape of the fir tree that would decorate each home during the Christmas season, and they were quickly sold for a price twice that for the normal round, oval, or star shaped cutters. They were simple to manufacture and required little more time than the other shapes, and it pleased me to know the women of the village wanted more.

The other reason I was happy was that the mill was a day's travel by wagon. Master Eaton would leave at first light, drive throughout the day, and then purchase the new stock of tin plate late in the afternoon. The next morning, he would begin the journey home and arrive in the village as the sun was setting. I would have almost two days and one night for more of Estelle's lessons.

True to my wishes, Master Eaton had only just climbed into the wagon seat and clucked to the horse when Estelle came into the workshop.

"How is my apprentice this fine day?"

"I am doing well, Ma'am. I would hope you are the same."

Estelle sighed, but then smiled.

"I am not, though I believe there to be a cure."

I was certain I knew what that cure might be, and smiled.

"Would I be able to assist with that remedy?"

"Oh, most certainly you can. It is a remedy I have not yet taught you. It may require much practice before the remedy is effective."

In my admittedly limited knowledge, I believed I understood the normal means of effecting that which Estelle desired. I was at a loss as to what she was saying.

"Is there not but one remedy?"

Estelle giggled.

"Johnathan, you have much to learn. There are many remedies, all similar, but all different in some ways. Come. I shall teach you of two that please me greatly."

Once in my bedchamber, Estelle lost no time in removing her clothing. As her loose, long legged under-trowsers fell from her hips and then to the floor, she chuckled.

"The remedy requires you to be without clothing. I cannot teach you if you remain as you are. Surely you are not embarrassed after our earlier lessons."

I was not embarrassed. I was only watching Estelle's breasts wobble about as she removed her clothing and thinking of how they had felt in my hands. I quickly pulled off my shirt, stepped out of my boots, and then unfastened my trousers. My cock bobbed in the air when I stepped from them, and Estelle chuckled again.

"I think my apprentice is ready for the next lesson, for your cock stands at the ready. We shall begin by easing your desires a bit, for I see already a droplet of your essence. That and the flood that will follow cannot enter me this day or I shall quite likely become with child. Do not be sad. There is another way, a way I believe you will greatly enjoy."

With that confusing statement, Estelle took me by the hand and bade me lie upon my bed. She sat down on the edge, then grasped my rigid cock and smiled.

"On such days as this, a proper woman would do thusly."

I watched, spellbound, as Estelle lowered her face to my cock, opened her mouth, and engulfed the swollen head. She sucked at it gently and then I felt her warm, wet tongue licking the underside. Estelle giggled when I groaned.

"Is this not as I said? I believe you do enjoy my new method."

She licked all around the darker head and caused me to groan.

"Yes, it is quite wonderful."

"I quite enjoy my method as well. Perhaps you will find this as pleasant."

Estelle slowly lowered her mouth over my cock head and then down my shaft. I felt gentle suction when her cheeks moved inward and then the sensation of my cock head touching the back of her throat. My hips lurched upwards of their own accord, and only because of her small hand with which Estelle gripped my shaft did it not plunge deeper.

Estelle giggled around her mouthful of my cock and then slowly pulled her lips back up the length. When she reached the rim of my cock head, she sucked a bit harder and swirled her tongue over the tip. My hips lurched again.

Estelle's mouth pulled off my cock head with a little smack, and she looked up at me.

"Shall I continue?"

My hips lurched again because she was slowly stroking my shaft. The feeling was much more arousing than when I did the same.

"As you said, your new methods might require practice to perfect, though I think you have already perfected this one."

Estelle giggled and then circled my cock head with her wet mouth. I felt her hand stroking my shaft as she bobbed her head up and down, and then her other hand fondling my sack.

At that time in my life, not much manipulation was required to bring me to my end, and that end was fast approaching. Estelle's stroking hands and her sucking mouth caused my sack to draw up, and I knew that meant I would spend. I attempted to warn her but she took no heed.

"Estelle, I cannot stop myself."

She only ceased her sucking and looked at my face.

"Then do not. I shall enjoy what is to come."

She resumed her stroking and sucking then, and I felt the end approaching. When I groaned again, Estelle thrust her sucking lips down my shaft until they met her hand and then pulled them back up. She did this rapidly several times before my loins exploded with the release of seed. As the first spurt left my throbbing cock, Estelle swallowed and then continued to swallow. The sensation of her throat closing on my cock head made me groan again as the second, then third and fourth spurt spewed from my body.

I was shaking somewhat when I eased my thrusting hips back to the bed. Estelle sucked as she lifted her lips from my cock. After that same smacking sound as her lips formed around my cock head and then released it, she used her thumb and fingers to strip up my length. She caught the resulting drops on her tongue, slipped that tongue into her mouth and then swallowed again.

"Umm; .I do love the taste of a man and his seed. We shall do this again presently, though you must learn another lesson first. As I enjoy your taste, you must learn to enjoy mine."

Estelle lay down beside me then and pulled my hand to her breast.

"Do as you did for our first lesson. Stroke my pillows and then my cunny. Once I am flowing with passion, I will teach you of what I speak."

I am somewhat proud of the fact that flowing was not long in coming, for this was only my second attempt at applying the skills I had learned. Estelle's teats quickly rose long and taut under my tongue and lips, and shortly after I touched her rippled inner lips, I felt the slippery juices begin to flow.

Estelle was breathing faster, and it was seemingly with difficulty she stopped her little moans in order to speak.

"Oh, yes; you; you have caused the flow. Now, my able apprentice, kneel between my legs as before, but; oh; do not enter my cunny with your cock."

"What am I to do then?"

"Use your tongue to lick my folds and my pearl."

To think of doing so was both fearful and exciting. I had witnessed the dogs on the estate doing the same, but had never given thought that people might do such a thing. Estelle seemed to want this, so I put my fears aside and knelt between her spread thighs.

The hair on her lips glistened with her wetness, and as I had already separated the strands that my fingers might enter her, her swollen lips were visible and a little open. A scent came to my nose as I lowered my face to those lips, a scent I had never smelt before and a scent that made my already stiffening cock twitch. Tentatively I touched those swollen lips with the tip of my tongue.

Estelle's juices were surprisingly pleasant to taste and I wasted no time in licking the length of her lips on the outside. She moaned and adjusted her position to open herself a little more.

"All around the outside and then between", she sighed.

It was with increasing pleasure I did as she asked. I found her outer lips to be very soft and a little puffy feeling. The slender lips hidden inside were even softer and rippled into folds. Both excited me greatly both for the wonderful texture as well as her musky and slightly tart taste.

As I lapped away, Estelle seemed to flow from time to time. I would feel a slight lifting of her hips, and if I let my tongue move down, I was rewarded by the taste of her fresh juices.

"My pearl now", she murmured between moans and gasps.

What I had seen as a small hidden button was now swollen stiff. At the first touch of my tongue, Estelle gasped and lifted her body into my face.

"Oh, yes; do not stop."

I did not stop, for by that time, I had realized if I continued, Estelle would reach her end. Making her do so would give me great pleasure, I thought, even though I could not sheath my cock in her tight cunny. I licked the stiff little button until Estelle was beginning to thrash about on my bed.

From my higher position now, I could look over the crinkled hairs on her mound and see Estelle's face. Her face was to the side and her mouth was open because she was panting. From time to time, she could close her mouth and then lick her lips, then resume her panting breaths. I thought the sight quite a beautiful one.

My tongue happened to slip from the turgid tip and instead stroked the side. Estelle moaned and her body tensed. Reasoning that several types of licking might be better for her than only the one, I began sliding my tongue on each side, then the top, and then back to the tip. Estelle began lifting her hips regularly, just as she had done when she reached her end before. A moment later I felt her hands on my head.

"Oh, Johnathan; I am nearly there. Suckle at my pearl and I shall reach that end."

Though her pearl was small, I was able to seal my lips around it, and I then began to suckle. The effect upon Estelle was quite remarkable. She began to rise slowly by arching her back, and I felt her entire body grow tense. A few moments later, she gasped and her body rose even more. A small cry followed this rise, and then I was forced to hold on to her hips because of the rapid rocking my efforts had caused. A louder cry slipped from her throat and she pressed my face tight into her cunny. I felt her pearl begin moving in and out, and suckled with more force to keep it between my lips.

Estelle suddenly cried out loudly, her cunny jerked up into my face several times, and I felt her thighs squeeze my head tightly. After one last lurch upwards, Estelle sighed and eased back down upon the bed and pulled me up over her body. As I lay there with her breasts pressed tightly to my chest, she kissed me.

So much did her lips move, it seemed as if she wished to join her lips to mine. I opened my mouth to allow this, and felt her small tongue slip in and touch mine.

I would suppose it to be more instinct than anything that made me attempt to thrust my stiff cock into her cunny. Estelle stopped kissing me and chuckled as she reached between us for my cock.

"My apprentice appears to need another stroking. On your knees over my pillows, Johnathan. I will remedy your desire."

What followed was much the same as my first experience with this new way of coupling without actually coupling. The strokes of her hand were just as arousing, and though she did not again take my cock into her mouth, I quickly reached my end.

As seed spewed in strong spurts from the tip, Estelle opened her mouth and attempted to direct the streams therein. She was successful at doing so with the third and fourth. The first spattered onto her breasts and the second painted her eyes and brow.

Estelle only chuckled and used a finger to capture the misguided streams and than transfer them to her mouth. She smiled at me.

"Such a flow so soon after the first is a pleasant surprise. I must rest now. We will resume this lesson after we dine tonight."

I went to the workshop and began again on my pastry cutters. I had discovered early in my pastry cutter days that by making several shapes at once, then the required handles, and finally soldering them together enabled greater output than making them one at a time. As a result of my method, by the time for the evening meal, I had completed as many as would have taken me a day had I made them one at a time.

After our meal, Estelle joined me in my bedchamber again, and we practiced our skills twice more. Both my times at bringing Estelle to her end were exciting and very erotic. Upon commencing my licking the first time, Estelle sighed that she would greatly enjoy feeling my cock, but as that was not possible, I should use two of my fingers in her cunny. The second time, I was happily lapping away and looked up over her mound to treat myself to her beautiful face.

Estelle was manipulating her teats by pinches and pulls. Reasoning she would not do so if it did not give her pleasure, I moved my free hand to her breasts and began doing the same. Estelle gasped at my touch, and then sighed.

"Yes, Johnathan, pinch tight and pull. I will feel it in my belly."

I believe her peak from the combination of my lips on her pearl and my fingers in her cunny and on her teats was a bit more energetic than before. Seeing her thrashing about under my lapping tongue made me very happy. Feeling her mouth sucking at my cock until I spurted was wonderful.

The next morning, we repeated the lessons, and after Estelle had cried out three times and nearly threw me off the bed, she fell back to the mattress and sighed.

"Ah; would that I could do this again, but I feel another ending might cause me to swoon. The cause of that swooning would be so wonderful, but alas, such is not possible. It would not do for my husband to return and find me naked in your bed. I shall go to bathe and prepare for his return. Do not be sad. There are many more lessons to be learned before you will become a journeyman lover.";

And so, my training as a tinsmith continued for the remaining year of my indenture. On the day of my nineteenth birthday, Master Eaton pronounced me a journeyman tinsmith. He went on to say that unfortunately, he could not envision sufficient increase in the business of the workshop to support us both. He recommended I strike out on my own by traveling the countryside and repairing pots and pans as well as manufacturing new items for sale.

His recommendation was very logical. While the people of Honiton had only to walk to the market if they required a new pot or lantern, the people of the countryside had no such market. By traveling the countryside, I would find customers for my skills and be able to earn my living.

I would not be sad at leaving Master Eaton's workshop. While he was a fair man, he seemed to never smile or laugh. I enjoyed doing both, but had been rebuked by him for doing so in the past.

Leaving Estelle would cause me some pain. It was she who taught me the skills of arousing a woman to both our pleasures. The days I had lain between her trembling thighs as I pumped my seed into her clasping cunny were days I would remember always.

Her training had continued through that last year when the opportunity presented itself. Estelle taught me of other positions for pleasuring each other. I believe my favorite lesson was the afternoon she straddled me and lowered her cunny onto my stiff cock. I could lie there while she stroked her body over my shaft and enjoy catching her swinging breasts by the teats and then pinching and pulling those stiff, swollen knobs.

There were other positions as well, and I enjoyed them all. I would miss Estelle, I knew, but not just for her lessons. I had found her to be a pleasant woman to be around and to talk with.

Our last coupling was during the time she had said I could not fill her with my seed. I knew this because I had come to understand the counting of days she did to determine such. I was prepared to begin as I had on those days in the past and did so.

As Estelle became more and more aroused, she sighed that she needed my cock since this would be our last time together. I replied that I believed that would not be possible.

Estelle only smiled, and then rose and fished in the pocket of her dress. Upon returning to my bed, she sat down and showed me what appeared to be a small ring of thin, almost transparent material. From the center of the ring, more of the material covered the end and was knotted in the center.

"It is more usual for a man to obtain a lambskin, but I have managed. It is the preserved gut of a small sheep, and will capture your seed when you spend inside me."

Estelle placed the knotted tip over my cock head, and then unrolled the ring down the length of my shaft. After doing so, she straddled me, guided my cock to her entrance and then shuddered as she sank down over the length.

I found the sheath around my cock to diminish the sensations somewhat, but not to a disagreeable amount as it was very thin and the fit was very snug. Our coupling continued as on prior occasions, with Estelle crying out and quaking over my cock as she reached her end. I likewise reached mine and groaned as Estelle's body milked my cock with the contractions that tightened her cunny around it. When I withdrew my cock, I saw the truth of her statement about the lambskin. My seed had been contained entirely within the tube.

Our second and third that day were accomplished as on other such days, with Estelle taking my cock into her mouth until I spent, and I returning the favor by licking at her cunny and suckling her pearl until she cried out and pulled me tight to her rocking hips. I found both methods to be an absolute joy, and told Estelle I would remember her always.;

As it was, once I had been deemed a journeyman, I did stay in the workshop with Master Eaton for a time. He had secured a contract with a nearby village for over a hundred pails for use by the townspeople in case of a fire, and required my assistance in order to complete the contract in a timely manner. I was paid in coin for this work, and used most of that payment to purchase such tools as I would need to strike out on my own.

After making a further purchase of a small amount of tin plate and a pushcart to carry everything, I bade goodbye to Master Eaton and to Estelle, and began pushing my cart down the road I had taken from Whitchurch to Honiton. My intent was to return to the place of my birth and establish a workshop there.

Along the way, I would do such tinker's work as I might find and increase the coin in my purse. I had no doubts about the success of this venture. It was usual for the tin surface of pots to become worn through in spots, and once the tin surface was gone, the iron beneath would rust and develop a hole. The repair was fairly simple though beyond the skills of most untrained people. For a few pence I would repair the pot and it could be returned to service

I had done these repairs frequently in Master Eaton's workshop. It was a simple matter of cleaning the rust from the iron and then forming a small ring of clay, called a "Tinker's Dam" around the worn place. After heating a copper iron in the small furnace, the iron was used to melt a thin stick of tin inside the ring. Once the tin melted and then cooled it was fused to both the bare iron and the surrounding tin, and the pot was as good as new.

The housewives who brought the pots were more than happy once the repair was completed. I assumed the housewives of the countryside would be likewise pleased and be eager to pay the small cost. I did not anticipate the other rewards I would receive from some of those housewives.

To be continued in part 3, by ron de for Literotica.

The adventures of a tinsmith's apprentice.
Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.



I write this memoir to leave somewhat of a legacy to future generations, for my trade, like many, will no doubt be replaced by the mindless machines already in use for the making of pots, pans, and other tin plate work. Some will no doubt shake their heads at parts of this tale, though I make no excuses for it. Such has been my life so far, and it was a life lived to the fullest extent possible. To have done otherwise would mean I would suffer the regrets common to people who have lived a life of propriety until old age and therefore barren of excitement and adventure.

I was born Johnathan Harrison Erickson in the year 1753 on the estates of one Baron Farnsworthy, my father being the manager of the crops and livestock at the estate. My early years are of little consequence save that I grew up, as do most boys, being full of adventure and fearing nothing.

At the young age of twelve years I knew nothing of what I wished to do in life other than to chase the frogs in the brook and to roll hoops with my brother. I was happy doing so even though there were the occasional chores to be done around my father's household.

It was expected that I would carry water to the sheep that provided a lamb for Easter dinner and wool my mother spun into clothing for us. I was also expected to gather eggs from the hen house every morning and evening. The gathering of eggs would have normally been a chore for young girls, but as I had no female siblings, the task fell to me.

I did not mind the sheep. They were calm animals and would always come to my call in hopes of a morsel of the sweet cake of oats and molasses I sometimes brought them. True, were I to turn my back on the ram, he would often give my backside a jolt, but he did so in jest, or at least I believed such.

The hens and the rooster I did not like. The hens seemed to be always moody and pecked at my hands when I tried to take the eggs from under them. The rooster was a massive bird with long spurs, and seemed to believe I was after his harem for some reason. If I did not watch carefully, he would fly at me and try to sink his spurs into my leg. Often I wished for a Sunday chicken dinner at which the rooster would be the main course.

Upon my thirteenth birthday, my father informed me I was to leave home and learn a trade. He also explained that trade would be as a tinsmith, for he had arranged an apprenticeship for me with a Master Richard Eaton of Honiton in Cornwall. I would be indentured to Master Eaton for six years after which I would have attained the skills of a tinsmith and be able to earn a living for myself.

I was somewhat put out by this news. By then, I was aware that while my father was not of the landed gentry, my family did not want as did some, and I had assumed I would follow in his footsteps in a few years for such had been the case with he and his father. To learn that not only was that occupation the one chosen for my younger brother, Edward, but that I was to be banished to a life some hundred miles away was quite a shock.

I would suppose the reason to be one of intellect and constitution. Though a year younger than I, my brother stood a head taller and weighed half again as much. He was as strong as the bullocks he wrestled for the purpose of separating them from their knackers that spring. Strong though he was, he had no sense nor inclination toward mathematics or the manual arts.

I, on the other hand, was of slight build and greatly enjoyed using my mind to guide my hands in the making of things. Mathematics came easily to me, and I easily learned the basic calculations for the length of iron to form a hoop of a certain size and to construct the various angles used by the blacksmith on the estate.

In retrospect, my father's choice was a wise one. I now know I would not have enjoyed the life of a manager of the fields and livestock nearly so much as I have enjoyed the trade of tinker.;

I did not understand this at the time of my departure from the estate and was greatly saddened to see the fine house, barns, and fields fade into the distance as my father drove the wagon to Whitchurch. It was just at first light, and I watched the cows walking toward the barn for their morning milking as the wagon went by their pasture. Boys of my age did not shed tears over something so small as leaving home, though it was with great difficulty I did not do so.

In Whitchurch, my father purchased me a passage upon a coach to Honiton, the village in Cornwall where Master Eaton's shop was located. The journey was to take three days, and after some conversation and the exchange of some coin, the coach driver agreed to guide me through the trip. I was also to sit beside him in his perch high above the horses.

After the first mile, I was happy for that open, but secure seat. Several of the coach passengers rode on the roof, for the fare for those seats was much lower than for the padded seats inside. For the reduction in fare, they had exchanged a soft cushion for the hard, wooden roof of the coach, and the comfort of being inside for holding on with all their might to the railing around the roof lest they fall.

It was indeed necessary to hold tight to something, for the roadway was not at all smooth and level, being pocked here and there with shallow holes and depressions. As these often occurred on each wheel at a different time, the coach was jostled about in a fearful manner.

The driver seemed to ignore these pits, and kept encouraging his team to the trot. At this breakneck speed, the jostling was enough to loosen one's teeth or so it seemed. Many times I heard the two ladies inside the coach cry out in fear as a coach wheel dropped into a particularly deep hole and then climbed back out.

Our first stop was at a way station just outside Andover. At this station, the horses were changed. It was told to me by the coachman this was a new practice. Before, he would have driven his team the ten miles from Whitchurch and then stopped to rest them for an hour. By the changing of the horses, we would be on our way again in only the time required to lead the tired team from the coach and then hook up the traces of the new team.

Indeed, this was the case, and I had time only for a drink of water before climbing to the coachman's box again. He spoke to the new team and cracked his whip, and we were again off.

The rest of the journey is not worth relating save that the ride continued to be harsh, the food bad and the sleeping accommodations worse. After paying my three pence for the first night's lodging and seeing the scurrying insects when I pulled back the blanket, I joined the coachman on one of the seats inside the coach for my sleeping place.;

Our arrival in Honiton was likewise uneventful. I dismounted the driver's box with my small bag of belongings and began looking for Master Eaton. In his letter to my father, he had said he would wear a red shirt. I quickly spied him sitting on a bench in front of the station and went to introduce myself.

Master Eaton looked old to me at the time, but such is the way the young view adults I would suppose. I later learned he was forty-one at the time, and had worked many years as a journeyman to earn the title of Master. He seemed to be a stern man. As my apprenticeship progressed, I found this was the case, but that he was also a fair man in his appraisal of my work. After confirming my name, he walked me to the shop attached to one side of his house.

Though I did not know what to expect, his shop seemed small in comparison to the blacksmith's shop on the estate. It was indeed smaller, but I soon learned it was of the appropriate size for the few tools used by a tinsmith. There was a large table used for the laying out and cutting of the tin plate with a large shear at one end. The only other equipment I saw were two devices of iron shaped like the letter "T" stuck into holes in sections of log and what appeared to be a small stove.

Of more of a surprise was his wife. Upon seeing her in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, I thought her to be his daughter, for she looked very much younger than he. Master Eaton introduced her as his wife, Estelle. She smiled at me and then went back to her work. Master Eaton then showed me the quarters which would be mine for the duration of my apprenticeship. It was a very small room, more of a large closet really, and directly across the hall from the bedchamber he and Estelle used.;

As my apprenticeship was six years and the first four were only my learning the simpler tasks of the trade, it would be somewhat boring to relate those first four years here. Suffice it to say I spent nearly a year at sweeping up the workshop, cleaning the small stove, and filing parts to remove the sharp edges left by the shears. My day began at first light with a breakfast of oats and cream, and ended when the sunlight coming into the workshop through the windows had waned enough it was difficult to see to work. A supper came after a washing up, and then it was off to bed.

Only Saturday and Sunday were different. Saturday was market day, and Master Eaton and I would load his wagon with pails, lanterns, and pots and pans, and then go to the village market to sell them. I was expected to demonstrate the features of each to customers and to announce the price when asked. After a day at the market, we would come back to the workshop. I would again clean up and arrange things while Master Eaton counted the proceeds of the sales.

On Sundays, we did not work. Master Eaton was a pious man, and insisted upon my attendance at church in the mornings. The afternoons were mine to use as I wished, though since I had no coin, I could only enjoy a walk by the river or a trip through the town to see the sights.;

After that first year, Master Eaton taught me to do simple layouts and to use the hand shears. I thought this to be a great achievement at first. After spending hours upon hours laying out and then cutting the ears for pail and lantern handles, I wished for something more. Gradually over that year and the next two, Master Eaton taught me the proper use of the tools in the workshop.

By the fourth year of my training, I could make pastry cutters in various designs for sale to the local women. These small cutters were used to cut the dough used for biscuits and tea crackers into pleasing shapes. They were a joy to make, for I was able to use my own designs as well as the standard stars, circles, and ovals. It was with some pride I manufactured pastry cutters in the shape of the waning moon and the snowmen I had drawn on paper as a child.;

On my eighteenth birthday, Master Eaton instructed me to make a new candle lantern for Estelle as my first major undertaking. She used the lantern to light her way should she need to use the privy after dark. Her old lantern did not yield much light, for the panes were not of glass but of horn scraped thin enough to be mostly transparent. She wished for one with glass panes.

The pattern was to be the same, so I would take her lantern after breakfast, use it during the day to take measurements and to confirm how it was assembled, and then return it to her at dinner. I was very careful in constructing the lantern, because it was a test of my skills by Master Eaton, and also because of its intended owner.

When I first arrived at Master Eaton's workshop, I viewed Estelle as somewhat an ordinary woman. She was not in my estimation a particularly pretty woman though she did have a very pleasant smile and I did like the way in which her long dark-brown hair flowed over her shoulders. Her cooking was very good as were her efforts to maintain a clean house and to care for her husband.

On Saturday of every week she changed the sheets on the beds, including those on mine, then washed them and hung them on the lines behind the house to dry. The other days of the week she occupied her time with other housework or the sewing of clothing for herself, Master Eaton, and once I came to live in the house, for me.

I confess that as I grew older, I began to look upon Estelle in a different way. I began thinking she was a prettier woman than I had at first thought, and by the time I reached the age of eighteen, had discovered her to have a very arousing figure. I could not see much of her curves, of course. The propriety of the day dictated that women not expose themselves to any save their husband. She did have some ways of working, however, that tightened her bodice to her breasts or outlined the curve of her rounded backside when she assumed certain positions. I was always watching from the corner of my eye for one of these positions.

Estelle seemed not to notice my observations. She continued to bend at the waist in front of me when setting my bowl on the table at meal times. Doing so would cause her breasts to well up to the top of her dress, and the soft mounds would draw my eyes and fill my head with thoughts of touching them. She would bend at the waist when retrieving something from her oven as well, and the way her dress outlined her shapely hips caused similar thoughts. Those thoughts usually caused a rising in my trousers.

I understood the rising and its purpose, for I had seen the same rising by the ram each spring. His organ would extend from his sheath as he nuzzled a ewe who seemed to be agreeable to his attentions. He would then mount her and thrust his organ through her swollen portal and pump away for a while. My father had explained this was the way the ram planted his seed in the ewe.

I had no actual teachings in how this might be accomplished by people, though I assumed it to be much the same, for I had witnessed the same event with the cattle and the horses on the estate. I thought surely women must have a similar entrance though I had never seen a woman in such a state of undress that I might do a proper inspection. I could only imagine how such an entrance might appear every time Estelle bent to get some item from a low shelf or her oven.

It was often I imagined such of an evening, and stroked my manhood in an attempt to simulate what I imagined how coupling with a woman would feel. The first time seed erupted from the tip, I gasped, for the sensation was quite overpowering. It was also very pleasant, and from that day forth, I would exercise my imagination when visiting the privy.

Those visits were very pleasurable, though I felt the act would be even more so when done as nature intended. Alas, though I saw several girls of my age as they accompanied their mothers into the workshop to purchase a new pail or pan, I was somewhat backward with the ladies. They were a mystery to me, a mystery that tied my tongue into knots when I attempted to speak to them.;

As I related earlier, Estelle sewed the clothing we wore every day. She was an excellent seamstress, though my trousers and shirts tended to be loose fitting at first. Her reasons for the fit was that I was growing taller and broader through the shoulders, and were the fit proper at first, I would quickly be stretching her seams to the breaking point. She would size my clothing by using a string to obtain the various lengths and circumferences required, and then lay the string upon a rule and record the actual dimension.

I was eighteen and a half when she came to the workshop one afternoon. Master Eaton happened to be away at the rolling mill to purchase a supply of tin plate that day. I was taking the measurements for Estelle's new lantern at the time.

Estelle smiled and said my trousers were nearly worn through at the knees and she would make me a new pair. She produced her measuring string and began.

Estelle wrapped her string around my waist as she had in the past, but her fingers seemed to trace from my sides to my belly in a somewhat different manner. I took little notice of this as her interruption would cost me half an hour of working time and Master Eaton had given me a required date for the completion of her lantern.

Estelle pinched the string between her fingers, then laid it on her rule and noted the length on a small piece of paper. Then, she used her string to measure from my waist to my ankles. Again, her fingertips seemed to trace the path of the string, and this time, I felt a twinge in my manhood. She recorded that measurement as she had for my waist and then proceeded to measure from my ankle to my crotch. She had never made this measurement in the past and I wondered at the reason.

She smiled at my expression.

"Boys do not require so loose a fit as men. As you are nearly a man, I must increase the fit that you may be comfortable."

I understood her meaning and thought this to be a reasonable explanation, though my manhood and sack had been of a quite larger size for some time now. That there might be a different reason did not occur to me until she made the measurement.

With her left hand, Estelle held the end of her string at my ankle. She asked me to spread my legs a little, and once I had done so, her right paid out the string as she slowly moved her hand upwards. Her fingers brushed the inside of my thigh and I felt that same stirring in my manhood. They moved further up, still slowly, until they touched my sack. My manhood gave a lurch that pushed out the front of my trousers.

I was quite embarrassed, but Estelle seemed not to notice. When she turned to do the recording, I quickly pushed my manhood to an upright position and somewhat relived the bulge in my trousers.

Estelle made the measurement several times, saying she wished to be certain of the dimension. I was certain she would notice how my erect manhood still bulged my trousers since her hand touched it with each measuring attempt, but she said nothing. After she measured around my thigh in the area of my crotch and touched my sack several times in the process, my manhood was frightfully erect and I knew she must see it. Still, she gave no indication different than in the past.

As one might surmise, my manhood would not lay back down after such an experience. When Estelle went back into the house, I went to the privy. Remembering how her small hands had touched my body was enough to bring an end to my arousal. I went back to the workshop to resume my work.;

As I had learned from Master Eaton, all Masters of a certain craft belonged to a guild of those craftsmen. They met from time to time to discuss the craft and more importantly, the pricing of such goods the craftsmen made. In this way, they were able to value their wares at such prices as would bring in a good income and no Master would seek to price his work lower than any other. A week after Estelle had measured me for my new trousers, Master Eaton left for the guild meeting. I knew from past meetings it would be the next morning when he returned.

Estelle and I ate our evening meal and then prepared for bed. As was my usual practice, I went to the privy to relieve myself that I should not require the trip halfway through the night. Upon returning to the house, I quietly walked down the short hall for I did not wish to disturb Estelle. When I passed her door, it was ajar a ways, and I could not stop myself from looking through the opening.

Estelle stood beside their bed and she was without any clothing at all. She was facing away from me, and I felt my manhood begin to rise at the sight of her slender thighs, soft rounded hips, and the small diamond shaped opening between those thighs and hips. I could not tear away my eyes. Such a sight I had never before seen, and my mind drank in every soft curve.

Estelle turned toward me then, and her full breasts swayed gently at the movement. They were round and soft looking, and her teats were large, darker lumps sitting on likewise dark circles in the very centers of the firm globes. My eyes roamed downward then to the triangle of dark hair that covered her mound. The sight caused my manhood to extend to its full erect length and I was forced to rearrange its position lest it be painful. The slight movement caught her eye. She gasped, but did not attempt to cover herself, instead walking toward me with a stern look in her eyes.

"Mister Erickson, do you not know it is not proper to spy upon a lady in her bedroom?"

I stammered at first because speaking was difficult. Estelle stood not an arm's length away from me and her dark teats both drew my eyes and confused my tongue.

"I, I; I am sorry, Ma'am. I was just walking past and your door was open and ;"

"You try to apologize and yet you continue to stare at me. Have you no shame at all? When my husband hears of this, he will cast you into the streets. Your apprenticeship will end and he will inform all the Masters in the guild of your peeping. None of them would accept you then and you will be reduced to begging in the streets. That must be your desire since you still look at me."

After that statement I was quite terrified and finally was able to lower my gaze to the floor.

"No, it is not my desire. It is just that, I have never; you are so; please, please do not tell him."

I looked to Estelle's face for some sign of clemency, but saw only a frown.

"If I do not, what will you do for me in return?"

"Anything, anything you desire. Just please do not tell him."

Estelle smiled then.

"Does looking at me please you?"

I replied that it did, for such was the truth.

"Look at me again. What part of me pleases you most?"

When I looked up, she lifted her breasts.

"My pillows? Is it my pillows that you favor or --"

She released her breasts and stroked her mound with her right hand.

"Or my furry cunny?"

I honestly did not know how to answer.

"I can not say. Both cause me great enjoyment."

"Ah; as they do me, but my cunny is by far the most enjoyable. Would you not say the same?"

"I do not know. It is difficult to see because of the hair, and I have never seen another."

"You have never seen another cunny?"

"No, Ma'am."

"My, My. I also have got me an apprentice then, have I not?"

"I am not certain what you mean."

She chuckled.

"My husband is teaching you the skills of a tinsmith. I would teach you different skills, the teaching of which would be very enjoyable to me."

I only knew of two skills Estelle had.

"Do you mean cooking or sewing?"

Estelle grinned.

"There is heat involved and at times a boiling over. There is also the threading of certain things through certain small openings, but it is not cooking or sewing of which I speak. I speak of the proper ways with women."

By then, I was unconfused sufficiently to understand her meaning, and that meaning increased my terror.

"Surely your husband would not agree to this teaching. He would cast me out even more quickly were he to know I have done more than look at you."

Estelle smiled wickedly.

"He would not know unless I tell him, and if you do as I wish, I shall not breathe a word. If you would prefer not to apprentice yourself to me, well, I must act the part of a good wife and tell him of your seeing me. I have no doubt you will succeed as a beggar if you can avoid the work farms."

What was I to do? I had decided I did indeed enjoy the work of a tinsmith and did not want to leave the trade. There was also the urging of my manhood. Though I was afraid of what might happen should I choose either course, such fears did nothing to relax my stiff member. The lesser of two evils appeared to be to do as Estelle said since she controlled my future no matter which I chose.

"How would you teach me without Master Eaton knowing?"

"Ah; so you accept my proposal."

"I fear I have little choice, though I know not why you would make such a proposal. Surely your husband is enough."

Estelle sighed.

"My husband has an affliction of late, an affliction that causes me much distress. His poker, as it were, cannot remain in a state fit to stir the coals. My coals require stirring frequently. Do you understand my meaning?"

I allowed as I did and she smiled again.

"Excellent. I believe you will find your choice to be the better. My husband will not return until the morrow. We shall begin at this instant."

Estelle led me into my chambers and as soon as she had closed the door, bade me undress. Being still fearful of what might happen if I did not comply, I did so. It was greatly embarrassing to stand there in the candle light with my manhood standing so proudly. Estelle was not embarrassed. She gently grasped the shaft.

"Johnathan, by what name do you call this."

"I call it my manhood, for that is what my father said it should be called."

"Ah; spoken like a true farm boy. In the cities, it is known as a cock. We shall henceforth call it such."

She began to stroke my shaft in the same manner I used in the privy, but the feeling was much more pleasurable. After a while, I began to thrust my hips into her hand. She giggled and stopped.

"I believe you have experienced this before, have you not?"

I replied that I had by my own hand. Estelle stroked my cock again.

"What did you think about."

I confessed I had thought about her. She smiled.

"Perhaps you thought about putting your cock in my cunny?"

"Yes, those were my thoughts."

"In your thoughts, did I enjoy this as well?"

I had never given the matter any thought at all, and that was my reply.

Estelle stopped stroking my shaft again.

"If you think not about the woman, your pleasure is halved, but I would suppose no one has taught you the ways. I shall do so, and you will understand."

Estelle lifted my hand to her right breast.

"My pillows are very sensitive. You must be gentle at first."

She closed her hand around mine, and I felt her breast compress and then slide away from the light grip. Estelle sighed.

"Yes, just as I showed you; several times to each."

My squeezes were as gentle as I could manage to make them. Her breasts were so smooth and soft I wished to do the squeezing more, but she caught my hand.

"Here, at the center is the most sensitive part. Stroke gently with a fingertip."

I was surprised at the reaction to my touch. Estelle's teats were as large as my small finger is around, but not quite so long as that finger is in breadth. At my touch, her teat began to swell longer and thicker. She moaned and whispered, "Yes, that is the way. Now the other."

I was greatly amazed at the way in which Estelle's teats responded as well as the ways in which the dark circles of her skin around them reacted. Her teats swelled to a very large diameter as well as extending much longer. The dark circles around them changed from smooth and soft to rippled with little ridges and pebbled here and there with small, round bumps.

I was also amazed by the response of the rest of her body. At each touch, she would either catch her breath or breathe out a low, quiet moan. I became entranced by those responses and continued my gentle strokes until she gently pulled my hands away.

"I must lie down with you for the next lesson."

So saying, Estelle sat on the edge of my bed and then rolled onto the mattress. When she patted the blanket beside her I understood I was to do likewise. No sooner had I stretched out beside her than she grasped my hand and placed it upon the soft hairs of her mound.

"Touch my cunny now, but just on the outside to begin."

I know my cock was as hard at it could ever be, but it felt as if it would grow even harder when my fingertips found Estelle's lips. I raised up off the bed to look at them.

They were soft and puffy, as if they were swollen for some reason. I parted the strands of dark hair in order to examine them better. When I did so, Estelle spread her thighs apart and those lips opened slightly. Between them, just at the top, I saw rippled soft skin. I touched that softness and Estelle gasped.

"Oh; .you have found my pearl. Do not stroke it yet, for the feeling is too much. Stroke between my cunny lips first and tell me what you find there."

I did as she asked and was a little taken aback when my fingertip came away with a slippery, but somewhat sticky, liquid on it.

To be continued in part 2, by rond e for Literotica.

After a world-wide disaster, new rules take effect.
Based on a post by barnabus, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.



Jolene was satisfied that she had done her duty. She lay the washcloth on the night stand. Without a word, she sat on the bed, removed her saddle shoes and bobby socks, then, naked, slid under the covers. Jim's erection was returning with a vengeance at the sight of this nude girl climbing into bed with him. Jim was ready, his arm extended to be beneath Jolene's head and around her shoulders. On her back, her breasts lost their definition, spreading and flattening. It had never occurred to Jim how much a good bra shapes and complements a woman's figure.
Still, Jolene, the secret fantasy of every boy in school, had just climbed into his bed, and she had just given him her virginity. The streaks of blood he had found on his penis and thighs and Jolene's washcloth had confirmed that. He swelled with masculine pride knowing that he had been the man to pop Jolene's cherry! It was he, not her quarterback boyfriend, but he who had taken her virginity. He had hoped to fuck her today, but had only the faintest expectation that he might actually be her first! After all, she was beautiful and popular! Jim expected that Tom, her current boyfriend, or someone else would have claimed her maidenhead before today.

The two talked for a while, saying little, but talking none the less.

Finally, he boorishly put his hand on her breast. Jolene stiffened.

"They said we should do it several times to;"

Jolene felt the tension in her stomach when she heard Jim's words. "I know," she replied.

Jim was elated. Jolene had given him her virginity. She hadn't exactly fucked him; rather, she lay there on the bed and unresponsively let him fuck her which was as much as he could realistically expect. Then, he watched as she had removed the rest of her clothing and returned to his bed, naked, to do it again. Can life get any better than this? Yes! he decided openly allowing his fantasies to progress to the next step. It would be better if she fucked him back! But that was an unrealistic fantasy. 'Nice girls' would never actively participate in sex. They might permit it, but they would never initiate it and certainly never become the aggressor or even actively participate themselves.

Jolene was determined to do her duty, even though the experience might not be everything she had hoped for and the man was not the partner she would have chosen. Replenishing the world's population was more important than her own personal likes and dislikes.

As crude and inexperienced as Jim was, he was also a very perceptive man. He knew that their initial encounter had not been very satisfactory for Jolene And, if possible, he wanted to rectify that.

Softly, gently, his hand caressed her breast and body, slowly exploring every place he could reach, but always watching to see if she liked it. Jolene was tense and nervous, even frightened. The memory of the pain of her deflowerment was still fresh in her memory. But slowly, she began to relax beneath his tender touch. There was an itch forming deep inside her, a small but definite fire growing in her belly. Was this the beginnings of passion that Jim was stirring up in her?

Still holding her breast, Jim leaned over and kissed Jolene He was unskilled at kissing, but the kiss was gentle and although she lay unresponsive, there was a stirring in her loins and gradually she began to return the kiss, bringing her hand up behind Jim's head. Unconsciously, her vaginal muscles quivered with expectancy.

Jim kissed her nose, her cheekbones, her forehead, and gradually worked his way downward, grazing her perky nipples, momentarily sucking on them before his kisses worked their way downward. Again, she tensed nervously, knowing that he would be kissing her; down there! He observed how she tensed up when he kissed the area below her soft stomach and closed in on her most intimate areas.

As his kisses moved downward, the sheet moved with him, leaving her uncovered and exposed. Unconsciously, Jolene's hand covered her breasts, concealing them from view.

With utmost care and tenderness, he kissed her fur-lined mound. As he continued kissing her pubis, he brought up his hand and barely inserted a single digit into her damp vagina ever so slightly penetrating her, but causing a spasm of shuddering from the blond cheerleader. Her long, slender legs separated, permitting better access to the finger and hand. His kisses continued, his shoulder moved between her knees and his tongue found her clitoris jolting a whimper from her.

His finger moved very little, simply being a presence at the entrance of her womanhood while his darting tongue spurred her libido. The combination caused Jolene to rapidly become hot and bothered. She didn't love Jim. And she wasn't in love with him. So why was he generating this excitement, this thrill in her? It should be Tom touching her, not Jim!

Soon, she was practically pumping her hips against his finger and tongue. Her breath was coming hard and fast, she raised her head looking down, momentarily distracted by her tingling, fully erect, nipples that were pointing straight up. Jim, who had moved his entire body between her thighs, looked up and she gave an embarrassed smile that looked both innocent and hungry at the same time. The agitation she felt from the magical effect his finger and tongue extended far beyond where they were actually touching, radiating throughout her pelvis, breasts and, indeed, her entire viscera.

Overcome by stimulation, Jolene grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face upward so she could stop the maddening stimulus to her holy of holies. Her breasts flattened against his chest and her rock-hard nipples pressed into him as his weight settled on top of her, sandwiching her between his firm body and the mattress beneath her, but she didn't seem to mind. Their mouths met and Jolene could taste herself on his lips. She hesitated to kiss him.

Jolene felt his penis at her opening. This time, he had found it without her help. He was erect and ready to penetrate her again. She was trembling with temptation and anticipation and she gasped as he moved between her velvet lips. She was more than ready for another union! Closing her eyes, she surrendered, relaxing her body and her vaginal muscles, and began to kiss him back. Still afraid, Jolene steeled herself as a delicious ache in her abdomen grew.

It was like a soft electrical current running through her pelvis and up her spine! Once again, she froze, caught in the deep kiss she had instigated, yielding before the insidious pressure as he slowly entered her, at first, barely penetrating, but pushing in deeper with each very gentle thrust, proceeding slowly, one inch at a time. A tiny moan emerged into his mouth, smothered by her lips, as his penetration deepened.

Jolene's well-lubricated vagina was still sore from the loss of her virginity, but there was almost no discomfort as he moved into her this time. The stimulation in her loins was growing as the kiss deepened. Her thighs presented no resistance as Jim slipped between them. Slowly, she shifted her hips until she felt Jim slip comfortably into her.

Jim began a slow, rhythmic movement, filling her, then pulling out only to press into her again.

(Jim was thankful he had found that book in the library that seriously talked about technique, and not simply flat out fucking. He was using some of the techniques mentioned in the book; and even with his lack of experience, he recognized Jolene's responses.)

Jolene was surprised to find that her misgivings about joining in sexual intercourse with this geek were slowly eroding. He had said he was a virgin. So where had he learned to treat a woman like that? She realized that she was moving her hips in a steady rhythm matching the rhythm that Jim had established. Catching herself, she froze, but sensations she never thought possible were careening through her mind and body.

When she realized that she was matching his rhythm a second time, she relaxed and let her body respond as it wanted to, moving her hips against his which allowed very real pleasures to overtake her. Her conscious kept reminding her what was 'right' and what she 'should' be doing. but this conflicted with her instinctive physical responses and her confusing emotions. Slowly, her body won out and Jolene began rocking her pelvis into Jim, acknowledging the feeling of having him inside of her, filling her, stimulating her desire. It was almost more than she could take.

Jolene progressively became as fully aroused as she could imagine. Surrendering her ability to think clearly, the guilt she had felt having sex with a virtual stranger was replaced with anticipation and increased pleasure as her body became acclimated to being female and delighting in the joys of receiving physical love from this wonderful male. He had to be a wonderful man to make her feel like this.

Jim grinned and pumped more urgently now, shifting forward, plunging his stiff cock deep into her tight, slick opening with each long, deliberate thrust. Jolene didn't even realize it when she started panting and making tiny animal noises. Jim stroked deeper, burying himself to the hilt inside her, each stroke making her moan softly. He felt his cock swelling inside the cheerleader, and his arousal caused him to become animal-like in his increasingly intense thrusting. He penetrated her deep and hard, driving her to loud moans of ecstasy.

Jolene's response made Jim swell with male pride, and he pumped her even harder and faster. Fucking this beautiful cheerleader made him feel wonderful! The bed quaked with their passionate lovemaking as Jolene arched her back, whimpering and crying out while Jim pumped in piston-like rhythm. Slowly but surely, Jolene's once innocent and virtuous reserve was collapsing, and her once icy demeanor was melting away as her instinctive feminine needs were awakened by Jim's attentions and lovemaking. There was a satisfied look of euphoria and adoration on Jolene's face when Jim climaxed and once more she received his sperm inside of her
Chapter 4: Ah!

Jolene had felt a strange excitement and frustration building within her. In many respects it reminded her of her first kiss. Or the emotions she felt when she first fell in love. She suspected it might be an orgasm building, but not yet achieved. But Jim had stopped before she could find out.

She'd had sex twice now and hadn't received an orgasm. And how after three times she still had not had an orgasm, she was starting to wonder if something was wrong with her or if her girlfriends were just making stuff up. Maybe all of this stuff about orgasms was just stuff that people had made; Tiffany gasped and suddenly learned what all her girlfriends were talking about.

Jolene had heard about orgasms, those mysterious, mystical experiences that older girls whispered about, but Jolene didn't know anyone who had experienced one. Nanette was her only close girlfriends who had 'gone all the way'. Several times, as a matter of fact, and with different boys. And Nanette had complained that once she slept with a boy, all he ever wanted to do was fuck! But Nanette also grumbled that she had never experienced an orgasm with a boy. And yet, this nerd, Jim, seemed to have Jolene teetering close to one. Then he came and he stopped. It was like Nanette had said: "when a boy's through, he's through!"

Crudely speaking, Jolene had been given the assignment to fuck. And since Jim was her assigned 'mate', they were obviously going to continue fucking, at least for a while. Virtue and propriety were no longer considerations in Jolene's life, at least not in relationship to sex. And if she was going to fuck, Jolene wanted to orgasm, too! She deserved an orgasm! She wasn't going to be cheated out of an orgasm just because some man didn't make the effort. She was entitled to her orgasm! Why didn't he know how to give it to her?

But she knew that was silly. If she didn't know how to achieve an orgasm, why should Jim know how to give her an orgasm. He had said that he was a virgin too, so how would he know?

When his softening member slipped out of her, Jolene impatiently tried to urge Jim to make love to her again. She actually wanted to experience an orgasm and find out what it was really all about. But Jim became agitated and complained that he needed time to 'recharge', whatever that meant. When she grasped his manhood and tried squeezing and pulling, she was surprised that there was no response. Jim explained that it took a man a period of time before he could regain an erection.

"How long?" she demanded. Jim didn't know.

Petulant, Jolene lay back to wait. Strangely, she had never even though about orgasming when she had been with Tom in the back seat of his Jeep.

Jim was somewhat shocked by the 'new Jolene'. This was not the prim and proper Jolene he had seen at school for years. It was not the shy and submissive Jolene of his fantasies. Still, he had wanted Jolene to fuck him back. And that was exactly what she had done. Now she showed every inclination to actively fuck him without reservation. So, why not?

He had also been surprised when she pouted and pulled away whenever she didn't get what she wanted or whenever things didn't work out the way she wanted. He had never seen this side of her before, and it wasn't very attractive.

But Jim was young and virile, so it wasn't long before he began growing larger and harder in her hand.

Jolene felt it first. Then her eyes were drawn to that shaft in her hand that was slowly, much too slowly, rising.

"Now?" she asked, almost eagerly. "Again?"

Without prompting, she spread her knees wide and licked her full red lips as Jim crawled between her legs. Jim was afraid of this new Jolene: would he be good enough for her? It was one thing to simply stick his cock in a girl's pussy and shoot his wad. The responsibility of doing whatever was necessary to please her was intimidating and scary as hell.

Jolene, with heart hammering, still holding is penis in her hand, guided him straight to her womanhood where he paused, savoring the moment, but also dreading it.

Not knowing what to do, he decided to try every option he could remember from the book. It was frightening, and a tremendous responsibility. And it would be much more work than fun.

Jim started by sucking and gnawing on her neck. Jolene rolled her head from side to side and sobbed. He bit her earlobe, unfortunately much too hard, and she cried out. It hurt her, but it excited her also and she didn't want to do anything to interfere with the excitement.

Jim nibbled and kissed his way down until he found a nipple. Jolene moaned when he sucked hard, almost filling his mouth with her breast. Lustful pleasure transfused her as her breast distended, reforming itself to the contours of his mouth. She was twisting and turning beneath him, but she made no attempt to escape him. Desire was burning inside of her, her womanhood yearned for sex. The pure, prim and proper Jolene, the captain of the cheer leading team, was aching to be fucked!

Jim moved from one breast to the other, sucking her nipples, making them harden with each intake into his mouth. Then, her senses crashed through the ceiling as, unexpectedly, he slipped a single finger barely into her pussy. Unbidden, Jolene's juices poured into his hand and Jolene started panting at his unexpected, but intensely erotic intrusion.

Still holding his penis, she pulled him toward her. The teasing finger disappeared and she felt something large and rubbery separate her feminine folds.

She began to stroke his shaft and held her breath as he mounted her. She was utterly helpless and vulnerable as his weight settled on top of her. Then she gave a squeal of sexual excitement and lust as the now familiar cock moved into her already hot pussy She gave a gasp, then sobbed as he moved deeper, stretching her wider than she could have imagined. Gasping, Jolene was filled like she never imagined she would be filled.

For a minute, she kept her hand between them, feeling his penis as it moved into and out of her, receiving the double sensation of feeling with her hand what her body was experiencing.

She removed her hand and clutched him to her pressing her soft mountains of flesh into his chest and he buried his cock to the hilt.

From his first entry, her body responded. Jolene whimpered as his penis began to repeatedly press into her increasingly hot body. She responded to every thrust. His thrusts became stronger, more masterful, building a sexual heat within her beyond anything she could ever have imagined. Waves of pleasure made her back arch and she sighed in sheer delight!

This was the road to orgasm. Jolene was getting what she wanted. Why, then, was she so surprised that she was receiving it? Smiling, she let her head lie back 'Savor it,' she told herself. 'Don't analyze it! Let it go. Enjoy it! Let it go!'

Jim was desperately trying to read her responses, trying to observe what pleased her, what satisfied her. He had cum twice. He wanted to give her the same satisfaction that he had enjoyed.

He watched her beautiful face and grinned when he saw her smile and heard her sighing in sexual bliss.

Jolene's luscious body was building on the arousal of their last attempt at lovemaking. She suspected the orgasm that she wanted so much was coming. "I can't believe what your cock is doing to me," she gasped out, and immediately she felt Jim's manhood harden even more as she uttered the 'dirty words'.

Her hips were thrusting into his as hard as he was thrusting into her. She was giving Jim the ride of his life!

the book had told Jim.

Having left behind her initial virginal reluctance and reserve Jolene throw herself into the act of love with wild abandon. She had no reservations this time and she actively joined in. Arching her back, she pressed her breasts into Jim's hands when he fondled her. His lips on her nipples sent the most wonderful sensations throughout her entire body. She was so intent on seeking her orgasm that she no longer cared who she was with. Her pleasure increased as she totally accepted Jim as her mate. Remembering what she had done earlier and what had excited her, Jolene ventured further into unexplored territory. She used every thrust as an experiment to try to find how she could to shift her body to achieve more stimulation. Every time he thrust into her, she responded, moving her hips, trying to position them so that, selfishly, she would receive the greatest stimulation.

Jim, having the gratification of already fucking Jolene twice, concentrated on the lessons he had learned in that book, paying constant attention to her, listening to her responses, observing what she did, doing whatever he sensed pleased her.

Panting hard, Jolene immersed herself in the warm excitement washing through her. It was more intense than anything she had ever experienced and Jolene's libido exploded to unbelievable proportions. Jim was doing new and wonderful things to her. Her sexual energy was sizzling and she was squirming and tingling in all the right places!

Poor Jim struggled to keep up with Jolene's incredibly self-absorbed efforts. It was only Jim's youthful stamina that gave him the energy, and the fact that he had already climaxed twice that gave him the 'staying power' to meet Jolene's demands, working with her as she frantically pursued the much desired orgasm.

Jolene barely heard the sensual words he whispered in her ear, lost in her own storm of sexual heat and lust. Her whole body ached as his cock drove her toward orgasm. She closed her eyes.

He clutched her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers as he pressed deeply into her womanhood: The womanhood that felt like a vice of soft flesh clamped around him.

And suddenly, without warning, Jim's golden haired mate thrashed and screamed as the tingling in her breasts turned into the illusive orgasm, claiming her, convulsing through her enthusiastic body. Jolene's face transformed into an expression of euphoria and adoration. She latched her heels behind his knees, to pull her pubis against his. Her fingers clawed at his back as she arched her spine and screeched with pleasure. Engulfed in an ultimate will-breaking orgasm, Jolene felt nothing but hunger and lust, pleasure and debauchery. She came over and over, screaming and sobbing in lust filled paroxysms that couldn't possibly be reality. She thrust over and over onto the cock that had made her cum.

The huge orgasm shook her soft body and Jolene wailed. Arching into him, she screamed as her orgasmic spasms continued.

Jim pounded all the harder, wanting to make her climax again, even though his own cock was ready to explode. Filled with his own lust, he grabbed her hips so that he could drive into her even more powerfully.

"Yes!" Jim yelled and he came with a loud howl. He shot his load deep into her. They were both bucking and twisting in erotic pleasure.

Jolene felt his cum filling her and she screamed as yet another gigantic climax claimed her. Stars and fireworks exploded as her body pulsed and spasmed.

Completely energized by Jolene's display of wanton passion, Jim pumped yet another load of milky semen deep into her, his climax overlapped hers. Her muscles tightened, milking him. And an unexpected, delicious feeling sweep over Jim.

Finally, the wonderful, mutual climax ran its course and both teens slumped into the bed. Jolene, panting and sobbing, lay there quivering and helpless. There was nothing clear in her mind except that never before had she experienced more pleasure and satisfaction.

Jim rolled to the side, relieving her of his weight but still holding her tightly, and listened to her pants and sobs. Ever so gently, he caressed her sweaty body.

Jolene smiled, her eyes focused on infinity. She was filled with a profound sense of satisfaction.

The two lovers lay entwined, sweating, puffing and panting

Jim felt secret delight in his blatant corruption of the captain of the cheer leading squad. His wish had been simply to fuck Jolene this afternoon. The fact that she had become so passionately aggressive exponentially increased the intense pleasure he was already enjoying. And with the eagerness she had displayed, combined with his youth and stamina, he suspected he probably could fuck her at least two or three more times more this afternoon before hitting his limit.

As they both came down from their post coital highs, Jolene was frightened by the wanton libido and passion that had been released within her. Her passion was burning so hot that she was afraid of where it might lead. She didn't know if she could take much more of the intense feelings she had just experienced. Her neurons had been so scrambled by the intensity of her orgasm that she was afraid of any more sex just then.

But nonetheless, Jolene's orgasm had affected her profoundly, releasing new hormones that were flooding her body and brain creating a sense of bonding with her partner, with Jim. And that frightened her. Jim may be the best choice for her in this post cataclysmic world. But she wanted to wait a bit before she absolutely committed herself.

And even though Jim was her assigned 'mate', they still were not married.

And besides, she was sore and she was sure that she had received enough of Jim's sperm to inseminate her (if this was the correct time for her to be impregnated). More than enough since there was definitely an excess of semen leaking from her down her buttocks and onto the bed sheets. So, fearfully, she decided to call it quits for today. She was sure that the government would want to repeat the procedure for several days to assure impregnation, so it was reasonable to expect that she and Jim would be fucking again tomorrow. By then, she would have had a chance to spend some time recovering and thinking about everything that had happened to her today.

She smiled to herself. She had wanted an orgasm. And, without dispute, she had experienced an orgasm. In spades!

She could easily become addicted to the orgasm! Already, she felt committed to the cock that had filled her, the cock that had raised her to an unbelievable climax. How many more will-breaking orgasms would it take to enslave her to that cock? To Jim's cock?

She also smiled at how critical she had been of the moaning girl in the next room. Jolene had screamed louder than any moan, a fact that both embarrassed her and pleased and gratified her. Any woman who orgasmed as hard as she had certainly deserved to scream.
Chapter 5: Revelation.

Jim wanted to do it again to see if he could. By luck he had chanced an the proper sequence of events to give Jolene an incredible orgasm, and he wanted some more practice so that he could master that technique.

But somewhat reluctantly, Jim accepted Jolene's decision to end the day's activities.

Jolene and Jim dressed. As she dressed, Jolene realized she was still not particularly attracted to the man who had been chosen for her, but he had proven a better lover than she expected. And that final orgasm was enough to bring her back to his bed whenever he wanted. But on the serious side, if they were going to have a child together, she felt she'd better get to know him better: maybe she could find things about him that she liked. In any case, like it or not, he was her husband for all practical purposes. She assumed they would probably share a house or an apartment, and she assumed they would have ongoing sex the way she thought most married couples did. At least early in their 'marriage'.

Taking each other's hand, Jim and Jolene stepped out of the room and moved down the corridor returning to the meeting room where everything had started.

Nanette stepped out from a room and saw them. "Well, Jolene, did you do it?" Before Jolene could answer, Nanette smiled broadly. "You sure did!" Nanette gloated. "You have that 'well-fucked' look all over your face!"

So long as Jim was by her side, Jolene was too embarrassed to respond or to ask if Nanette had gone through with it. But Jolene already knew that Nanette had. Nanette had not been a virgin when this started, so one man, more or less, wouldn't matter to her.

Nanette fell into step with Jolene and Jim as they walked down the hall. "So, how was it, Jo? How do you like fucking now that Jim's actually plucked your cherry?"

"Nan!" Jolene exploded, her face burning with embarrassment. Jolene would be glad to share her feelings with 'the girls'. But that would be 'girl talk'. It was not something she was about to broadcast to the world, and even though she had just given her virginity to Jim and might be carrying Jim's baby, she still didn't know him well enough to start discussing how she felt about, well, about fucking him in front of him.

"Poor John," Nanette commiserated, referring to the boy who had been selected for her partner. "He was so nervous and afraid. I managed to get him to fuck me, but he came so quickly! And then, he was so self-conscious he grabbed his clothes and ran out of the room. If he weren't such a nerd, I'd feel sorry for him. But since the purpose was to get pregnant, I put my butt on a pillow and my feet against the wall and stayed there for half an hour.

"You know," Nan commented introspectively, "it's different doing it and actually trying to get pregnant, instead of the other way around. It's kind of exciting!"

Suddenly Nanette remembered something. "My book! I'll be right back!" Nanette turned and ran back down the hall to fetch the forgotten item. Both Jim and Jolene paused to watch her run. Then they looked at each other and Jolene took his hands in hers, knowing that she should say something, but not sure what it should be. Hand in hand, they walked down the hall coming to what looked like the lobby of a hotel.

Jim spoke. "Jolene, Thanks for a great time. I had a really enjoyed being with you this afternoon. I mean, it was fun."

Fun? That was a strange word to choose. It almost like he was saying the things that everyone had to say at the end of a date, thanking her for a date, no matter how miserable the date might have been.

They had just made love! She had given him her virginity, and was beginning to think of him as her partner in life, even her husband. They would probably have a baby! Jolene was beginning to feel committed to spend more time with Jim, to get to know him. She had even begun to think about the apartment they would share. And the; unconsciously, Jolene swallowed nervously thinking about the sex that they would probably have. Husbands and wives had sex. It was part of the arrangement. Jolene still wasn't particularly attracted to Jim, and she certainly didn't feel passionate about him. But she was developing a commitment to make things work out! Having a baby together was a real commitment!

Besides, she wanted to do her duty to help rebuild the world after this disaster; she still didn't know exactly what the disaster was.

Nanette caught up with them as they stepped through the door leading outside. Jim paused to take Jolene's face between his hand and he gave her a warm kiss. "I'll call you," he whispered. "I sure would like to be able to get together again!" He turned and walked purposefully down the street. Confused, Jolene watched him move away.

"Jolene Nanette. What are you doing here?" Jolene was startled out of her puzzlement. She turned and saw Krystal Gereaux, the third member of her 'group' at school, coming up to her. Jolene looked around and realized she and Nanette were standing in front of a rather seedy hotel about a block from their school. Down the street, she saw kids pouring out of the school just the same as they would on any other day.

Jolene turned to Krystal but before she could say anything, a familiar Jeep pulled up to the curb. It was Tom Green's Jeep and Tom leaned out of the window. "Don't forget, I'll call you tonight!" Tom shouted. Jolene stared in disbelief. She had been told that Tom was dead.

"Got to go now. Don't want to be late for Football practice!" And with Jolene continuing to stare in disbelief, the Jeep roared off toward the football field.

"Jolene," Krystal spoke again, more insistently this time. "Jolene Nanette. What are you two doing here?"

A terrible fear began to invade Jolene's consciousness. "Why weren't you here, too, Krystal?" Jolene asked softly, fearfully. "Weren't you affected by the disaster?"

"The only disaster I see is how you're going to explain to your dad why you missed half a day of school." Krystal answered offhandedly.

Suddenly, Jolene envisioned herself standing before her father explaining what she had done that afternoon. And she knew that truth would not be part of her answer. Jolene took a firm grip on Nanette's arm.

Seeing the confused looks on Jolene and Nanette's faces, Krystal asked, "What disaster?"

"The world-wide disaster," Jolene replied. "It took place several weeks ago."

"Jolene," Krystal replied seriously, "there has been no disaster. The closest thing that I can think of as a disaster is the fact that you've missed your classes ever since Trigonometry this morning. By the way, what were you doing in that hotel?"

Her mouth hanging open, Jolene looked down the street and saw Jim heading home. He was several blocks away.

Based on a post by barnabus, for Literotica

After a world-wide disaster, new rules take effect.
Based on a post by barnabus, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.



Forward:

The setting is the nineteen fifties. After a world-wide disaster, new rules take effect.

Jolene; A high school cheer leader, awakens to find that a worldwide disaster has occurred killing 85% of the world's population. She has been selected to participate in a breeding program to replenish the world's population.

Most of the participants are virgins. It also explains Jolene's surprise when she hears a girl moaning with sexual pleasure and Jim's shock when Jolene becomes 'the aggressive partner' in their relationship.(For those who grew up after the 'free love' period of the 1960s and 1970s, you'll just have to take my word for it: That's the way it was!)

Nanette, on the other hand, has obviously been 'sexually active' (to use a modern term: In the 1950s, another description would have been used), but it becomes apparent to the astute reader that although she has been sexually 'active', she probably has not received a great deal of satisfaction from her sexual activity.
Chapter 1: Orientation.

"As you all know, there was a world-wide disaster."

As if coming out of a daydream, Jolene's mind drifted back into reality. The last thing she remembered was sitting in a Trigonometry class thinking about a cheer leading routine. She was the head cheerleader and was scheduled to run the next cheer leading practice.

There was a man with a clipboard and a briefcase at the head of a long table, talking. Instinctively, Jolene tuned in on what he was saying.

The word "disaster" grabbed her attention. He continued: "To our best estimate, as much as 85% of mankind has been destroyed." Jolene was suddenly awake and alert, carefully listening. He went on, "The government, what's left of it, has determined that an organized breeding program must be established, and you have all been selected to be part of the initial phase. Everyone in this group is 18 years old and was a high school student. You're all in good health, and hopefully, you will be able to produce healthy offspring. The girls are all in their fertile period, so this is an ideal time for each of you. You have been pared with a partner who is a favorable genetic match to you, and you have been brought here to see if you are compatible with your match. And if you are, you will be expected to breed to procreate children to help repopulate our country and world."

Jolene looked around the room. Everyone was about her age, except the man at the head of the table. They were arranged in boy-girl couples. Jolene recognized two of the girls in the room: she was sitting next to Jim and across the table, Jolene recognized Nanette, a close girlfriend, was sitting next to John. Jim and John were both nerds and not part of Jolene's 'inner circle' of friends. She had seen the another girl and boy from her school in the halls and knew they were a couple, but she didn't know their names. And there were other couples that Jolene didn't know, apparently from other schools.

Nanette wore a new, scandalously fashionable see-through blouse which displayed her lacy camisole top that hugged her well-shaped breasts and revealed the lines of Nanette's brassier The bra-straps were clearly visible. There was just a trace of two bumps showing exactly where Nanette's nipples were beneath her undergarments. Nan's skirt was the shortest skirt in the room, stopping slightly above her knees: rather immodest for the mid 1950's.¬

All of the girls were wearing blouses that buttoned down the front and skirts. There were no sweaters or slacks.

Jolene raised her hand. "Excuse me. What disaster? I don't know about any disaster. The last thing I remember was sitting in Trigonometry class at school. What are you talking about?"

"That is a normal after effect of the disaster. The disaster occurred several weeks ago. Many people do not remember either the disaster or what happened afterward. At some point, your memory will begin working again and will pick up from that point onward. I'm sorry, Miss," he paused to look at his clipboard, "Miss Jolene, if your memory hasn't begun functioning yet. And in case you don't remember, I am the monitor of this program."

He scanned the others in the room. "Are there others that don't remember what has happened before today?" he asked. Several hands in the room went up. "This must be terribly frightening for you."

Jolene and several others nodded.

"I'm sorry that you are finding yourself in this situation without knowing what led up to it. However, it has been decided we cannot delay the program to increase our population any longer." He looked around the room, meeting the many nervous eyes in the room. "I appreciate that this might be especially difficult for many of you. In this world of the 1950's most of you young people live celibate lives, and although you might think about sex, probably most of you have never", he paused and stammered, "taken your fantasies to, um, shall we say" he paused to swallow, "their ultimate conclusion."

Many of the young people, especially the girls, were embarrassed the casual way he was talking about their sex-lives; or, rather, the lack of sex in their lives.

Again, Jolene raised her hand. "Excuse me, but shouldn't I be matched up with Tom Green?" she asked. Tom was her boyfriend. He was a year older than she was and they had been dating for a little more than a year.

"Green?" The man asked and pulled a large book from his briefcase. He perused the pages, then looked up sadly. "I'm afraid Tom didn't survive the disaster. I'm sorry, Miss Jolene" He returned his book to his briefcase. "In any case, we believe that, er," he fumbled with a name and pointed toward Jim, the boy sitting next to Jolene, "that he is the best genetic match for you that is available."

Jolene gave Jim a withering sideways glance.

Resuming his lecture, the man continued, "Each couple will be given its own room, which will be adequately furnished. We would like to get the program started as soon as possible." There was a moment of embarrassed silence in the room before the monitor added: "I know that many of you are embarrassed by this, but let me assure you that there are boys and girls all around the country are meeting in rooms like this and are being told the same things you are. Many are meeting their prospective mates for the very first time. I believe you all have the advantage of already being acquainted with the mate that has been selected for you."

A pretty girl, the one from her school that Jolene didn't know, raised her hand. "But I can't do this. I'm not married to; " she pointed to the boy sitting next to her.

"We chose to start this program without requiring marriage," the monitor stated. "If it turns out that your offspring match our genetic expectations and you wish to get married to your partner, then of course you can. But we'd like to keep the option of rearranging the couples if the genetics don't work out the way we hope they will. We need to replenish our population as rapidly as feasible and to expand our gene pool as widely as possible. Therefore, every girl of childbearing age will be expected to have at least four to six children. Ideally, each child will be sired by a different father since that will give us the widest possible diversity to our gene pool. So for the moment, marriage is not required. If you wish to be married before you proceed, we can furnish you with an appropriate clergyman.

The girl who had raised the question looked at the boy sitting next to her, and shook her head. "No, I think marriage can wait." Obviously, although she had been dating her 'mate', she wasn't ready to be married to him, yet. She probably also was not enamored with the idea of deliberately having a baby with him. Or possibly it was simply going through the process of starting a baby that she didn't look forward to.

Again, Jolene raised her hand. "I'm only eighteen. That's awfully young to have a baby, or to start a family," she stated.

"The world is different now," the monitor stated. "Some of the old principles are not practical anymore. This program starts with 18-year-olds and above, but soon, probably even younger girls will be encouraged to have babies."

Considering the discussion closed, the monitor concluded his remarks.

"All right, then. We will take each couple to its room and we will allow you to proceed. Each room is equipped with a sofa and a bed and bathroom facilities. There is a phone in each room. Simply pick up the phone if any of you need help or encouragement. We're here to help you, and we'd like to make things as easy as possible for you."

He stood and started toward the door. "Oh, I know this may be difficult for many of you. I suggest that once you are in your room, girls should open their blouses and remove their bras and panties. Boys should remove their trousers and unbutton your shirts. This may help encourage the mood.

"Also, remember, our goal is for each girl to get pregnant as soon as possible. Therefore, we encourage each of you to copulate several times to increase your odds of getting pregnant. He paused and faced the group with a smile that somehow seemed inappropriate.

"And now," he said officiously, "be fruitful and multiply."
Chapter 2: Getting started.

The room had the sterile feel of a hotel room. There were no windows, and Jolene remembered there had not been a window in the room where they had their 'orientation'.

Painfully self-consciously, both Jim and Jolene turned away from each other to remove the required garments.

When they turned to face each other, both quickly averted their eyes after a quick, curious glance. Jolene was relieved that even though Jim had removed his pants, he had the presence of mind to keep one button on his shirt closed. Thus his shirt hung down far enough to conceal his male anatomy.

Jim's glance revealed that although her blouse was open, either she wasn't wearing a bra (something that he had suspected when he had seen her walking around school with an eye-catching bounce) or it had been one of these open-in-the-front bras and she had already opened it. Of course, her skirt hung down revealing nothing improper.

Then, as if by mutual agreement they both sat on the sofa facing each other. The sofa was wide enough that Jim could rest his arm on the back behind Jolene's shoulders, but there was still a small distance separating them.

Both teen were embarrassed and uncomfortable. And both were afraid to speak the first words.

Jolene couldn't imagine how she could be in a hotel room with a boy she scarcely knew. Jolene had good grades in school, was head cheerleader, was planning to attend college. She came from a well-to-do family who lived in a good neighborhood in a big house.

She had always known she would give up her virginity someday. Having been raised with the idea of 'saving herself' for her wedding night, she had assumed it would be when she got married. But Tom, her boyfriend, had been pressuring her during the past couple of months. Tom's pressure had led her to question the validity of waiting and she had been seriously considering 'doing it' with Tom.

After all, Tom had argued, the hymen was just a small piece of membrane: it's presence or absence is totally invisible to the external eye. In fact, some girls don't even have one. And some have lost it riding bicycles or in some other innocuous way.

And if Jolene married someone other than Tom, and virginity was important to her husband, Tom reasoned, Jolene could always assure her husband that he was the first one and her husband would never know the difference.

But now, if she was going to have a baby, virginity was really a moot point.

Jim was a relative stranger to her. She had seen him in the halls at school and they had spoken briefly, but she really knew very little about him.

'It's not the right time of the month for me to get pregnant', Jolene thought. But with a start she realized that apparently some time had passed since the 'disaster', whatever the 'disaster' had been. Undoubtedly, she was at a different place in her cycle than she remembered.

Without a word, Jim slipped the band from her head that held her hair in place. Then slowly, one at a time, he removed her hairpins, allowing her hair to fall over her shoulders. When the last pin was removed, Jolene shook her hair loose, allowing it to fall naturally over her shoulders.

Finally, Jolene looked into Jim's eyes, her face filled with fear and concern.

"I guess we're lab partners and we've been given a homework assignment," she stated flatly. "Do you think we should start?" she asked, and, although Jim had only seen the slight movement of her arm, he felt her hand pushing his shirt aside and gently encircled his manhood. It was already erect. He was afraid. He had never done this before.

"Do you think we should?" He asked looking down.

Jolene nodded her head and looked down. Already Jim's teenage penis was pulsing at her soft, feather-like touch.

Jolene's boyfriend, Tom, liked it when she held him like this, although she had only held him through his pants. Now she was touching Jim's naked penis. and apparently Jim liked it, too.

Staring at her breasts, Jim hesitantly raised his hand, but he stopped short. "Are you sure it's all right?" he asked, unable to believe that he was being touched by the head cheerleader, the most beautiful and popular girl in class, and she was waiting, squeezing his penis ever so gently, her eyes watching his hand, her lips parted expectantly.

"I think so," she replied, nervously glancing around the room. "Go ahead. You can touch them." She whispered, her eyes again returning to Jim's hand.

As gently as he could, he allowed his hand and palm to slide inside her blouse, beneath her breast as if to support it. He weighed it in his hand. She took a deep breath and her fingers surrounding his penis closed a little tighter. Jim closed his fingers around her breast, feeling its softness, and sensed her hold her breath. He wasn't sure what to expect, He had never touched a woman's bare breast before. Jolene's breasts were perfectly shaped, not too large, sagging ever so slightly under the effects of gravity ('would they sag a lot more when she grew older?' he wondered), with perfect nipples protruding slightly from tan aureoles located exactly where they should be. Her breasts were softer than Jim expected. Somehow he thought they would be firm and full, but decided that even though she was a senior in high school and had passed her 18th birthday, perhaps her body had not yet fully matured.

His fingers found her nipple and gently grasped it, squeezing very slightly.

"Oh!" She gave a surprised moan and an unexplained tingle ran up her spine. Her fingers reflexively tightened around Jim's penis. He gently rolled the nipple, and she moaned again she gave a small whimpering sound, and again her grip tightened around his penis. She was holding him so tightly, it almost hurt, but he didn't want to say anything.

"Am I hurting you?" Jim asked, releasing her breast and lifting his hand slightly, barely maintaining contact with her breast.

"No!" she answered immediately, and dropping his manhood, her hand flashed to Jim's and she pressed his palm against her breast. "No, you're not hurting me. It's just; I don't know,; "

She hesitated.

"What is it?" Jim asked, sounding like he sincerely wanted to know what she was thinking.

"I've never felt this way before," Jolene stammered. "Do that again. I mean, with your fingers on my nipples."

Jim took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed.

"No; softer! They're very sensitive! Be gentle!"

Jim rolled her nipples as gently as he could between his fingers and heard her moan, "Yes! That's it!"

He kept rolling and her hand returned to his lap to find and grip his penis again.

"I don't know how to explain it," she whispered, her head leaning back against the sofa, her hand tightening around his penis.

"It; they're sensitive." She gave a small gasp, "and when you, uh, roll them like that, it stimulates them." (Jim could feel the nipples growing bigger and harder between his fingers.) Jolene continued, "and it; makes me feel; funny. It makes me feel funny in other places, too!" She was breathing faster now, and so was Jim.

Jolene loved her boyfriend, Tom, and at his insistence, she had reluctantly let him touch her breasts. But he always mauled them like he was mixing meatloaf. had always been impatient and grew irritated if she asked him to be gentler or to do anything differently. Jim, on the other hand, was actually listening to her and doing what she asked him to. The difference was incredible. Although she was not in love with Jim, her body was reacting more strongly to him than it ever had with her boyfriend.

Jim changed his hold of her breast, capturing her nipple between his index and middle finger, which freed up his thumb to push back her blouse giving him a better view of those beautifully shaped teen-aged mounds. He kissed her just above the collarbone, right where her blouse met her skin. She arched her back, pressing her breast into Jim's hand. Encouraged, he kissed her chest a little lower and again she seemed to press her chest into the kiss. Jim paused and looked up at her.

"May I kiss your;" She opened her eyes and met his. "Can I kiss;" Jim swallowed hard, trying to find the courage to speak the words.

"You can kiss my breasts. And my nipples, too. I think I'd like that. That is, if you want to!"

"I want to!" Jim replied, returning his attention toward her chest and gently brushing his lips against the flesh where the top of her breast met her chest. He changed his grip on her breast so once again, cradling her protrusion in the palm of his hand, but he still kept her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it. She squirmed a little, but made no attempt to pull away from him.

"It's funny," Jolene commented. "I always imagined sex as a nighttime thing. I never thought of having sex during the day."

Jim nodded. "I guess you can do it anytime you wanted. I never thought about it." Somehow, Jolene doubted that he had really never thought about it.

He kissed more of her breast and began moving his lips toward her nipple with each kiss. Shifting his hand to support her breast, he nibbled at the top of her nipple, then softly drew the nipple into his mouth.

The electricity swept through Jolene "Oh," she moaned. He was gently, sweetly, sucking on her, pausing every now and then to kiss her nipple. It was exceedingly erotic and generated a ripple in her stomach.

She looked down to watch Jim nursing at her teats and instinctively, she raised her hand to support her breast for his lips. As she took over the job of holding her breast steady, Jim's hand slid down her stomach, grazed over her skirt where it covered her pubis, and continued down the inside of her thigh until it came to the hem of her skirt and settled over the bare skin of her leg.

Suddenly frightened again, Jolene pulled her breast back and grabbed Jim's hand on her bare leg. "Tom, don't!"

Jim stopped his sucking and raised his head to look at her. "I'm not Tom," he whispered. "Tom is not here."

Burning from mortification, Jolene quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, Jim! It's just that, well, I've had to stop Tom," Jolene paused and shuddered, "from doing what you're doing. I'm sorry."

"I understand," Jim replied sympathetically.

"I know! Things have changed. Things are different now," Jolene replied miserably. "I refused Tom. And now," Jolene gave an involuntary sob, "now I'll never;"

"I understand," Jim whispered soothingly, releasing his grip on her thigh to put his arm around her. Jolene curled up in his arms and sobbed. Jim held her close and she was comforted being held snugly close to a warm, masculine body while she sobbed, mourning the loss of her boyfriend. Abstractly, she wondered why Tom had never taken the time to simply hold her, especially when she needed comfort.

After a while, her sobs subsided. She composed herself and sat up to pull a Kleenex from the box on the table and blow her nose.

"I'm sorry, Jim," she sighed, and she lay back on the sofa. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I know what we have to do! We both know what's at stake here. "

"I know you were dating Tom. He must be on your mind. Do you want to continue?"

Jolene was touched by Jim's thoughtful consideration of her feelings. And of his show of respect to Tom by being willing to stop. But she also felt the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. If every girl who had lost a boyfriend (and if 85% of the population had been destroyed, there must be a lot of them) refused to participate, then the 'repopulation program would obviously fail.

Carefully, Jolene returned Jim's hand to her thigh and carefully drew it up her leg about half way to her pubis. Then, she moved her hand to his shoulder and held her breath as his hand slid beneath her skirt, higher and higher. Her instincts told her to stop him, to resist, until his hand grazed her pubic hair (as instructed, she had already removed her panties) and her breath escaped in a small moan. Her body was reacting to his touch. Jolene gave a sudden intake of breath as his hand ran over the top layer of her pubic hair and he felt moisture beginning to build. Jim smiled as a finger carefully grazed her clitoris causing her to jump . She was growing wetter.

Showing remarkable perceptiveness, Jim whispered, "I'm sorry that Tom's not here with you instead of me."

"I know you're not Tom. But there's something you need to know. Tom and I; never did; it; I'm a virgin. You'll be my first.

"I; uh; well," Jim stammered, sounding embarrassed, "I guess I'm; uh; I guess, me, too."

Jolene was somehow pleased. "You don't have to explain. But it's nice. I mean, if we're both virgins."

"Uh, then," Jim paused, "I guess it's time".

Jolene tensed when she heard Jim's words. It was not the most romantic statement he could have made! She would have rather let things simply grow naturally into fulfillment. She knew she wasn't ready yet, but didn't know how to say it or what to do, so she said nothing. She was frightened, and thrilled at the same time. Like so many teenagers, she was more than curious about sex and wanted to know where her feelings would take her. Jolene let Jim pull her to the side, and she slid down onto the sofa onto her back. Jim moved over her.

Lying on her back, her skirt bunched around her waist and beneath her hips, her blouse hanging from her shoulders exposing the curve of her breasts, she parted her thighs and allowed Jim to slip between them, her heart thumping inside her chest. She positioned herself, her legs, giving Jim a good long view at her already glistening womanhood.

In his inexperience, Jim, with very little foreplay, probed for her opening, unsuccessfully. Frustration grew in both of the teenagers.

Jolene was disconcerted. She had always dreamed of giving her virginity to a masterful lover who would gently, lovingly, but with finesse ease her into womanhood. Instead, she was experiencing the ambivalent fumbling of adolescence. But then again, Jolene was little more than an adolescent herself. If it were her responsibility to take the initiative, she wouldn't know what to do or how to do it any more than Jim did.

Frustrated with his inability to find her, she reached between them and grasped his penis and lead him past her pubic patch, actually positioning him at her surprisingly wet and hypersensitive opening. Immediately, Jim pressed forward, separating her lips.

And he paused.

Jolene was surprised that her womanhood was actually aching in anticipation. She knew her hymen was still intact. He hadn't reached it yet, although he was exerting some pressure on it. Her muscles spasmed and she wiggled her hips, not knowing what she should do now. After what felt like an interminable wait, perhaps three or four seconds, she hesitantly moved her hands to his bare buttocks and took a deep breath as she prepared to lift her hips and pull him into her.

Suddenly, Jolene heard the repeated, rhythmic moans of the girl in the next room. Distracted, Jolene didn't know why a girl would moan in that fashion. It didn't sound like she had been injured or was in pain. Suddenly, she realized what the sounds represented and her vaginal muscles spasmed tight. She was immediately embarrassed at this essentially public revelation of the activities in the next room. Jolene would never make such noises! No girl with any refinement would broadcast such personal activities to anyone within hearing range.

Meanwhile, now that Jim had found the entrance of her vagina, he reveled, anticipating for a long moment what was about to happen. When he felt Jolene gently pulling on his buttocks and timidly lifting her hips toward him, then tense up, he pressed forward with what he thought was a manly thrust, tearing through Jolene's maidenhead and eliciting a hoarse groan of momentary agony from the anxious cheerleader beneath him.

Jim knew the moment he had stolen Jolene's cherry. Breaking her maidenhead, his shaft seemed to swell two sizes larger at the thought of taking the beautiful cheerleader's virginity. Jim gasped with shock, realizing just how tight she was. She was truly fresh, untampered with.

Jim experienced a double pleasure: first, he was taking possession of her body as he entered her making her a real woman. He was actually fucking Jolene who was the wet-dream of almost every guy in school. And second, this pleasure was increased exponentially by the knowledge that her cherry belonged to him! She had given him her virginity, freely and without objection, without force.

Jolene knew that it would hurt the first time. But even so, she was totally unprepared for the excruciating pain of her deflowerment.

As the pain of her defloration subsided, Jolene's sexual curiosity was somewhat satisfied. There was more to come, and much more to be experienced. But there was little that Jolene had not already imagined. Yielding to her sexual yearnings, Jolene was quickly ready for whatever came next. With blank, obedient eyes, she looked up, staring needingly into Jim's eyes. Simply speaking, her mind was simply focused on the pleasure she expected to receive and give and Jim felt it. Jolene was perfect! She would be his own sex kitten: a goddess.

Jim began pumping, pushing in deeper. Although it was her first time, she thrust back like a seasoned professional, and within seconds he lost control, shooting his cum into the gorgeous cheerleader. Jolene felt Jim pulsing inside of her. She suspected that each pulse represented millions of sperm being injected into her vagina headed for her womb and Fallopian tubes.

Poor Jolene had been left far behind.

Twenty-four hours ago, the very suggestion that she would behave in such a wanton manner would have shocked Jolene She had displayed herself before a boy, spreading her legs, opening herself, all in anticipation of a; cock; being jammed into her most sacred of places.

He was an acquaintance at best. An acquaintance! Certainly not a lover, or even a boyfriend.

Cynical jokes entered her mind. He hadn't offered her candy. Or chewing gum. He hadn't even bought her a cocktail!
Chapter 3: Interlude.

It wasn't long before Jim fell to Jolene's side, his breath coming in strangled, gasping breaths!

Somewhat disappointed, Jolene murmured, "Is that it? Is it over?"

Jim grunted affirmatively.

Jolene was surprised and disappointed.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

She disentangled herself from Jim's embrace and awkwardly climbed to her feet. She was unbelievably sore and she felt used and abused. She made it into the bathroom, feeling like she was walking bow-legged. Her blouse and bra still hung loosely from her shoulders and her skirt hung wrinkled from her waist. Her sex felt damp and sodden. Lifting her skirt, she used the facilities and saw semen dribbling down her inner thighs showing that she was leaking cum from her vagina. Obviously, Jim had provided her with enough sperm to impregnate her if, in fact, the time was right and she was ovulating.

Taking a washcloth from the sink top, she dampened it with warm water and, still seated, she washed the lines of semen from her legs and perineum. There were streaks of blood mixed with the semen. It was blood from her torn hymen. Tears came to her eyes. This was not the way she wanted to give away her virginity. This was not the great adventure she expected sex to be. All of those 'experts' on the talk shows and in the books inferred that it would be great! They had lied to her!

Then she saw the stain on her skirt, her nice skirt. And tears poured from her eyes. She wept silently.

When her tears had passed, she drew herself up and slipped out of the skirt and, using another corner of the same washcloth, cleaned it as best she could. When she was finished, she looked at her skirt with the large wet spot. She wanted to put it on and leave. But she felt the responsibility on her shoulders. The monitor had told them that her duty was to get pregnant, to 'be fruitful and multiply'. And he had suggested having sex several times to increase the odds of successful insemination. Enjoying the process was not a requirement.

Jim had been selected as her mate. He was certainly smart. Apparently he had good genes. And his genes combined with her genes would produce a healthy child. In this post-disaster world, did she have the right to ask for anything more?

Determined to do her duty, Jolene washed her face and returned to the bedroom, feeling somewhat better and to some extent resigned to her fate. Her fate, her destiny, her function, at least for the moment. But there was no point in her blouse getting more wrinkled and possibly stained also.

Jim had taken off his shirt and moved to the bed during Jolene's absence. Lying on his side in the bed, Jim observed her return and noticed she was no longer wearing her skirt. He watched her stop at the credenza and take off her blouse to hang it up and slip out of her bra. She was not as well built as he had thought. She was a little thicker in the waist and her breasts were smaller and less perfectly formed than he had envisioned. One breast sagged lower than the other.

Almost naked, she approached him, holding out a washcloth with a stain tinted with red. "I thought you might want to see this," she said simply. "It's your semen and the blood from my broken hymen."

Astonished, Jim stared at the stained cloth and nodded. He was surprised, but secretly pleased that she would present the proof of her 'innocence' to him. But during her absence, he had already examined his own penis and seen the red streaks of her virginal blood.

To be continued in part 2, Based on a post by barnabus, for Literotica

Miracles can happen on Christmas Eve.

Based on a post by auguy86, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at My First Time.

 

“I; I don’t want to just be a charity case,” Ken replied. “If you do this, Gabrielle;”

“It

will only be because I want to. Promise,” Gabby replied, finishing his

thought. “Now, your first lesson in kissing: making the move. I’m a

young, attractive woman who has been making eye contact with you all

night and finding every excuse in the book to touch you. You may not

realize it, but when a woman does that, it means she’s ready for you to

make the move. Try it on me, just like I did.”

Mimicking Ken,

Gabby closed her eyes, waiting for the moment that Ken would kiss her

once more. He leaned in as she had done, trying to take his time and not

rush anything. As he was about to kiss her, he remembered that

agonizing wait when he could sense her almost on top of him. Pausing

mere centimeters from her lips, he allowed the tension to build up for a

few moments. Soon, a huge smile began to form on Gabby’s lips; she was

enjoying this, and he hadn’t even touched her yet! Ken collected his

courage and finally met her lips with his, moving them ever so slightly

as he kissed her. He only had his instincts to guide him, but she didn’t

seem to mind one bit.

“Umm; that was very nice,” Gabby whispered

as they parted. “Good job in mimicking my technique. Let’s try one

more. This time, lick your lips just a bit before you kiss me, and try

to let our mouths fit together like a puzzle. You can take my lower lip

between yours, or I can take your lip between mine. Tilting your head to

the side a bit is also a natural position. The possibilities are almost

endless. When you’re ready, don’t be afraid to put your tongue in my

mouth. In the future, you’ll want to be careful about doing this too

soon, but for our purposes tonight, go right ahead.”

Ken did as

she instructed, and found that the increased moisture to be quite

pleasant. It allowed each of their lips to slide along the other’s with

little effort. All too soon, he felt Gabby take his lower lip in hers,

sucking lightly and even nibbling for an instant. After she did this a

second time, Ken took the hint and reciprocated in kind, eliciting a

contented murmur from Gabby. As their kissing became more passionate, he

could no longer resist the urge to taste this gorgeous woman. Still

tentative, he pressed his tongue against the crease of her lips, which

parted to allow him entry. Though he didn’t know what to do once he was

in, he soon found himself enthralled in Gabby’s passions. Her tongue

danced with his, exploring his mouth in a slow, methodical fashion. This

gave him the perfect gauge to judge his own efforts by. After nearly

twenty minutes of making out, they finally separated, their faces

flushed from the experience.

“Holy shit.” Ken sighed.

“You,

my friend, are one quick study. The next girl that kisses you may well

get addicted and refuse to let you go,” Gabby agreed with a playful

grin. Leaning back on the sofa, she reached down and unbuttoned the top

button of her jeans, asking, “You ready to learn something else?”

In

spite of his hardening cock, Ken couldn’t help but feel like he was

doing something he shouldn’t. “Look, you seriously don’t have to;”

“I

want to,” she said with confidence. “Ken, you are such a sweet, special

guy, and I want to show you that. I want to prove to you how lucky a

girl I would be to have a guy like you.”

Would be? What’s that supposed to mean?

“I’ve

never made love to a virgin, Ken,” she continued. “But I know what I

love in bed, and I think I can help you get quite good at this. You

don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but if you’ll allow me, I’d

love nothing more than to take your virginity tonight.”

Ken was

torn. This woman certainly drove him crazy, but part of him worried this

was all an elaborate setup. Women never came on to him like this, let

alone one this beautiful! Then again, she hadn’t balked in the slightest

in kissing him. Hell, she had even encouraged him to French kiss her.

In spite of the fact that he had every reason to be distrusting after

Jacqueline’s message, he recognized that she had shown him nothing but

kindness and patience. He didn’t believe in destiny or fate, but if

there was a moment in which he was supposed to lose his virginity, this

had to be it.

“Okay; I want to,” he whispered.

“I’m glad,” she replied with a warm smile.

Fumbling with his belt, he said, “I guess I’d better;”

“There’s

plenty of time, Ken,” Gabby reassured him. “If we do this, I want to do

it right. I want to show you the proper way to take a girl around the

world. That starts with what we were doing earlier, only this time, you

can start removing my clothes in the process.”

As Ken leaned in

and resumed their kissing, Gabby guided his hands lower and slipped them

underneath her sweater. He spent a few moments enjoying the warm

sensation of skin-to-skin contact before tugging her sweater up. They

separated for a moment so that Gabby could finish peeling her top off,

revealing a simple, black silk bra. As they continued making out, Ken

reached behind her, trying to decipher the key to unhooking the

ever-hated bra.

“Want some advice?” Gabby asked with a slight giggle.

“Sure,” Ken signed, beginning to get frustrated.

“Feel for the crease, then slip one finger under and one finger over. Squeeze together and rub your fingers until it unhooks.”

Concentrating,

Ken did as she instructed. The clasp itself was easy to find, and her

descriptions were spot on. To his surprise, it only took one

unsuccessful attempt before he managed to snap the garment open.

“Impressive,” Gabby marveled.

“Thanks, but that was all you. I’d be lost without your instructions.”

“You’re a natural student; you take direction well. Ready for the next lesson?”

“Oh yeah,” Ken said with anticipation.

“Your

kissing skills have grown by leaps and bounds in just a few minutes.

Now you should remember that you don’t have to kiss just my lips. My

cheeks, my neck, my shoulders; my entire body is your playground. Few

things turn a woman on more than a man whose only desire is to worship

every inch of her form.”

With that, Gabby shrugged her shoulders

and slipped her bra off, revealing her ample D-cup tits to Ken. He was

utterly speechless at the sight he now beheld. They were not only large,

but quite perky as well. Her tiny pink nipples, already hard from their

making out, were the perfect accent to Gabby’s most notable assets. As

he drank her in, he felt her guide his hand towards her, reaching him

out to touch her tit. It barely fit into his hand, yet it was so soft

and warm that it felt like it just belonged there. Taking a deep breath,

Ken now reached in with both of his hands, squeezing her tits together

and exploring every inch of their surface. Remembering her words from a

moment ago, he leaned in once more and began to kiss his way from her

lips down to her chest.

“Yes; just like that.” she cooed.

Arriving

at the valley of her bosom, he made his way to one side, kissing her

tit while also stimulating her nipple with his finger.

“That’s so good, Ken; ooh, you can suck on them too,” she whispered with encouragement.

Ken’s

heart leapt at her suggestion, and he moved to take one of her tiny

nipples in his mouth. He sucked with eagerness at first, but Gabby soon

coaxed him to go slower.

“Careful there; be gentle.”

“Sorry.”

“Quite alright, they’re just a bit sensitive,” she said with a sweet giggle.

Ken

spent quite some time lapping at her tits, alternating sides every so

often. At first, Gabby advised him on when to change so as not to over

stimulate one side or the other. Soon, though, Ken was moving back and

forth all on his own, driving her wild with lust in the process. After

several minutes of this, she lifted his head up, a wicked grin on her

face.

“Ready for the big reveal?” she asked, lowering the zipper of her jeans.

“Uh; uh huh.”

Lifting

her hips up, Gabby slipped her jeans over her curvy ass and down her

long legs before kicking them off with her boots. She then turned to

recline back on the sofa, spreading her legs a tiny bit. The smoldering

come hither look she gave Ken was enough to bring any man to his knees.

“Come on, Ken; you’ve got a Christmas present to open.”

Ken’s

mouth went dry as he stared at her black thong panties, mesmerized in

disbelief by what was about to happen. With trembling hands, he slipped

his fingers into her waistband and slid the silky garment off, revealing

Gabby’s shaven pussy at last. In that moment, Ken had completely

forgotten that he was still wearing all his clothes.

“I just love the way you’re looking at me,” Gabby breathed, breaking his trance. “It’s like you won the lottery or something.”

“I; think I did.”

“So

sweet. Now then, time to learn how to really make a woman happy. Most

women are at least willing to engage in oral sex, but you always need to

give at least as much as you receive. It’s only polite. And there’s no

better way to make a woman want to suck your cock; than to eat her pussy without prompting. With that said.”

Gabby

now spread her legs wide for him, beckoning him to explore her

delectable womanhood. Following a trail she laid with her fingers, Ken

began to kiss his way up her leg and inner thigh. After repeating the

action on her other leg, he arrived at her soaked pussy, breathing in

the musky aroma seeping from within her.

“Spread my lips, Ken,” Gabby whispered.

Using

a gentle touch, he did as she asked, gazing deep into her slick tunnel.

He soon leaned forward, touching his tongue to the folds of her labia.

She tasted different than he had expected, perhaps a bit salty, but

nothing unpleasant in Ken’s mind. He continued to taste and tease her

lips for a few moments, and she began to squirm and writhe under him in

pleasure.

“Oh, yes; that’s just right, Ken; you can move a little

higher, too. See that little bump there? That’s my clit. She’s

sensitive, but if you pay enough attention to her; something good is

bound to happen.”

He tilted his head upwards a bit, running his

tongue along her lips as he arrived at her clit. Flicking the nub a

couple of times, he was surprised at just how strong Gabby’s reaction

was. Ken liked that. She was having the time of her life, and it was all

because of him. Feeling a twinge of confidence, he redoubled his

efforts and began lapping at her clit again and again, never giving her a

chance to rest.

“Yes; yes, that’s fucking incredible!” she cried out.

As

Gabby’s hips began to buck, Ken looped his arms around her thighs on

instinct, helping her to remain still. He continued his worshipping of

her womanhood, savoring every drop of her juices as she squirmed and

squealed in delight. Soon, he began to sense that her thrashing was

reaching a crescendo and an ultimate plateau. He received almost

immediate verbal confirmation of this.

“Holy shit; Fuck that’s awesome! Oh, Ken don’t stop; don’t; stop; please don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop; ah!”

Ken

knew in an academic sense that women could achieve powerful orgasms.

Still, he had never actually seen it happen, let alone experienced it by

his hand, or rather his tongue. Yet lying beneath him was the most

beautiful woman he had ever met in his life, and she was becoming even

more beautiful by the second as her body erupted in ecstasy. The look of

pleasure on her face as her eyes fluttered closed was awe-inspiring. A

few final licks to her pussy, and she gently pushed his face away from

her crotch.

“That’s quite enough; but oh so wonderful.” she sighed. “You’re a natural, Ken.”

“Thanks. That’s; got to be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Seeing you lose control like that, it was surreal.”

“So

sweet,” she said, sitting up straight on the sofa. “For all your

supposed awkwardness, you sure know how to pay a girl a compliment.” She

leaned forward, planting a long, slow kiss on his lips. As they parted,

she whispered, “Ready for your due reward?”

With a slight gasp, he replied, “Oh, hell yes.”

Gabby

stood from the sofa, smiling the entire time. Reaching behind the

armrest of the sofa, she pulled out a dark blue sleeping bag and began

to spread it out on the thick rug in front of the fire.

“It’s a

tradition,” she explained, seeing the look of confusion on Ken’s face.

“When I was a little girl, I swore I’d catch Santa in the act by

sleeping next to the tree. He’d never be able to sneak past me. Well, my

parents told me to go for it, but that it wouldn’t work; he’s too good.

Sure enough, he had come and gone the next morning. He even left a note

next to my pillow that said, ‘Nice try, Gabby. Merry Christmas.’ Ever

since then, I’ve slept by the tree every Christmas Eve.”

“Love it,” Ken grinned.

By

now, she had finished spreading the sleeping bag out on the floor and

affixed a couple of pillows at the head for them. As it was designed for

one person, she had opened it completely and laid it out flat, making

it large enough for two to lie on. Seeing what she was doing, Ken

grabbed a large throw blanket from the sofa to cover up with.

“Why, thank you,” she said. “But don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed?”

“Huh?”

Ken had been so entranced with Gabby’s naked body that he’d forgotten

that he was still wearing his clothes. “Oh, uh, I guess so.”

“Can I help with that?” she asked with a mischievous grin.

“Sure.”

Gabby

sauntered over to him, wrapping him in a warm hug as they stood next to

the fireplace. After kissing his lips, she moved to his cheek and neck,

just as he had done to her before. As she began to drive him crazy, she

slipped her fingers into his tee shirt and pulled it off of him,

exposing his bare chest to her. Now with a new playground to explore,

Gabby continued from where she left off. She first lingered around his

neck and shoulders, then down his chest before finally reaching his

stomach. As she knelt before him, she unbuckled his belt and slid his

jeans and boxers down to his ankles, freeing his rock hard cock at last.

Ken

was not large my most standards, being only about five inches in length

at full staff, but to Gabby he was perfect. She had no hesitation as

she began to lightly stroke his length in her hand, and soon began to

take him in her mouth bit-by-bit. Ken was in blissful agony; not only

was he receiving is first blowjob, but he also had to keep from

exploding too soon, all while concentrating on standing still. She

sucked him for a few seconds more before releasing him.

“If you get close, let me know, okay? I want this inside my pussy, too.”

Ken

could only nod in reply. She soon resumed her pleasuring of his member,

sucking him with gleeful determination. He had been so good to her

tonight; she only wanted to reward his efforts. Slowing her pace, she

gazed up at him with her smoldering eyes, her pretty face framed by her

long blonde hair. As Ken began to lose himself in her beauty, he also

felt a familiar bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. Though he

panicked for a moment, he soon had the presence of mind to tap Gabby on

the forehead.

“I think you’d better slow down,” he stammered.

Releasing his cock from her mouth with a pop, Gabby grinned and replied, “Good. Because I think it’s time for me to take your virginity.”

After

switching off the gas logs, she stretched out on the open sleeping bag

and held part of the blanket up, beckoning Ken to slide in with her. He

did so with eagerness, though was still nervous as hell; he had no idea

what he was doing! Sensing his doubts, Gabby spoke with soft confidence

and reassurance.

“Let’s go you on top to start. That way you can

control it so you don’t go off too soon. Honestly, though, don’t worry

about stamina. You’ve already lasted through one of my blowjobs, which

is no small feat, if I do say so myself. You ready?”

“Um, yeah; I think so. But do we need any; protection? I don’t have a condom or anything.”

With

a warm smile, she replied, “Don’t ever change, Ken. Sweet, humble, and

considerate, that’s what you are. I don’t have any diseases per my last

doctor’s visit two months ago, and I know you’re a virgin so I don’t

think there’s any concern.”

“That’s good. But; what if you get pregnant? I’m not sure I’d be able to pull out in time.”

“Well,”

she paused, her smile becoming more bittersweet. “It’s a long story,

but trust me when I say that there’s no risk of me becoming pregnant.

We’re clear to let loose with this, as long as you’re comfortable with

that, of course.”

“I am. I just; wanted to be sure.”

“Thank you, Ken. Now, if you please, my pussy is aching for your cock, and you’d best make her happy.”

Positioning

his pelvic region between her legs, Ken attempted to push into her, but

his slick cock merely grazed the surface before slipping up to her

belly. Gabby just smiled and reached down, taking a gentle grip on his

cock with her hand and guiding him to the entrance of her pussy. Feeling

a bit of give, he followed his instincts and penetrated her at long

last, his virginity melting away in the process. She was divine, far

tighter than Ken had ever imagined in his wildest dreams and fantasies.

“Oh Ken; that’s just where you belong,” she cooed in satisfaction.

“Holy fuck; so tight.” he could only reply.

Ken

began to thrust in and out of her, keeping his tempo moderate at the

start to get a feel for how sensitive he was. The sensations of making

love to this goddess were only enhanced by the look of sheer enjoyment

in Gabby’s eyes. He prayed that he would be able to last and enjoy it

all, even if only for a few minutes. As he continued thrusting into her,

Gabby began to get a mischievous look in her eyes.

“You’re thinking something,” Ken observed.

“Uh huh. Wanna learn a trick that’ll drive any girl nuts?”

“Sure.”

“Come

up on your knees and keep your torso straight up. Try to get to where

you can keep yourself inside me without having to balance on your arms.”

“Like this?” he asked, relaxing back on his folded knees.

“Exactly. You can also stretch my leg out against your chest to help you balance.”

“Very nice,” he said as he followed her instructions.

“Yep, but that’s not the trick. This is the trick. Use your hand; and masturbate me while you fuck me.”

Ken

at first wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly, but Gabby soon

confirmed that he had when she took his hand and slid it down her thigh

towards her slit. Once there, he reacquainted himself with her

womanhood, finding her clit with little effort. Gabby’s reaction was

immediate. Her eyes bulged and her arms began to flail about in ecstasy.

This only spurred Ken on further, as he upped the tempo of his thrusts

while continuing to jack her off. Gabby was in such pleasure that she

couldn’t even form words. Nothing but incoherent babbling came from her

mouth. Finally, her long-awaited orgasm arrived, and Gabby screamed into

her pillow at the top of her lungs. Meanwhile, Ken had the pleasure of

experiencing what would become his favorite part of lovemaking: a

woman’s pussy erupting in climax around his cock.

“Oh my god; that; was awesome,” he marveled.

“Uh huh; you’re fucking amazing, Ken.”

“Thanks to you,” he grinned, slowing his thrusts to allow her to recover.

“I just gave pointers. You executed; to perfection, I may add.”

“My knees are about to give out, though.”

“Well isn’t that excellent timing; because I wanna ride you now.”

Disengaging

from him, Gabby gave Ken a playful push to the side, landing him flat

on his back. Before he could even think of retaliating, she had already

clambered on top of him and was rubbing her slick entrance against his

cock. If she wasn’t careful she might have made him blow his load right

then and there, but she backed off in time, planting a deep kiss on his

lips. As their tongues danced, she positioned his head against her and

lowered herself onto him. Ken moaned into her mouth at the

reintroduction of her wonderful tunnel. Their mouths parted as she

arrived at the base of his cock, and she sat up straight to give him an

unobstructed view of her glorious tits.

Rather than bounce on him

full force, Gabby used a smooth, firm grinding motion on his cock.

After all, they were on a sleeping bag on the floor, rather than a

proper bed. Ken couldn’t help but reach up and take her jiggling globes

in his hands, squeezing them and tweaking her nipples a bit. This only

encouraged Gabby further, now exploring every inch of his cock with her

velvety pussy. She rode him for all she was worth, no longer trying to

extend their session, but actively working to send him over the edge.

Ken, perhaps picking up on this, tried to coax her to slow down.

“Gabby, you’d better slow; oh shit; down. I’m not gonna;”

“I don’t care. Give it to me,” she replied in a husky voice.

“Huh? But I haven’t even gone ten minutes? Aren’t guys supposed to be able to last?”

Gabby

smiled at him. “Ken, you’ve been wonderful tonight. You kissed me like I

was the only woman in the world, ate my pussy, and survived one of my

world-famous blowjobs. Believe me, you're no slouch. You’ve lasted Ken,

and made me orgasm twice in the process!” She leaned closer, whispering

in his ear, “Cum for me, right in my pussy. I want it. I need it. Please

don’t hold back. Give it all; to me.”

That did it. Her masterful

motions combined with her seductive voice were too much for poor Ken to

handle. As she planted her lips firmly on his, he thrust his last into

her and began to spray his seed into Gabby’s pussy. Though he had

masturbated many times, none of his orgasms were ever this long or

powerful; it was unreal. As he finally came down from his high, Ken’s

cock began to soften inside her pussy, slipping out after a few seconds.

“That was; amazing.” he sighed, feeling the call of sleep washing over him.

“Nuh uh! No you don’t, Ken!” Gabby replied with a playful slap.

“Huh?”

“There’s

one more thing for you to learn: the art of pillow talk. Trust me, Ken.

You stay awake and talk to a woman after sex, and you show her she’s

more than just a piece of ass,” she said, rolling off to lie next to

him.

“Guess that makes sense,” he mused, rubbing his eyes to stay

awake. “Well you asked me all about myself, and I was about to do the

same when, uh; all this happened.”

“Not complaining are you?” she asked with a grin as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“Hell no! Still, what about Gabby? What makes her tick?”

“Well,

my family is the biggest part of my life, in all honesty. With Mom,

Dad, plus two big brothers and a little sister, there’s a lot of love to

go around. We’ve always been tight.”

“Oh yeah! You mentioned

earlier about not being alone on Christmas Eve, yet you would have been

alone if we hadn’t met. What’s up with that?”

Gabby replied,

“We’re kinda spread across the southeast right now. One brother works in

Birmingham, another in Nashville. My sister is visiting a sorority

sister up in South Carolina. Mom and Dad live near here, but have been

traveling. They were supposed to get in today, but their flight got

delayed. Won’t be seeing them until after lunch tomorrow. Still, we

should have everyone together by the day after Christmas.”

“Always

good,” Ken smiled, wishing his own family was a close as Gabby’s.

Noticing the silver cross still hanging from her neck, he asked, “I

guess you’re pretty religious, too?”

“Very much so. Born and raised Catholic.”

“Yet, you’re not at mass?”

“Extenuating circumstances,” she replied, a slight grimace on her face.

“Sorry,

didn’t mean for that to come out harsh. No judgment from me, promise.

My mom’s always been religious, but it just never spoke to me. I mean,

how can a supposedly loving God allow such evil acts in the world He

created?”

Gabby looked up, calm confidence in her eyes. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people. That doesn’t mean God causes those

bad things to happen. In all things, I believe God works for good. Even

in the worst situations imaginable, God manages to cause some amount of

good to come from them.”

“You really believe that?” Ken asked.

“With every fiber of my being. It’s what keeps me going.”

“Well,

you’re the first that’s been able to answer me that question in a way

that makes sense. No ‘it’s all in God’s plan’ or ‘you must not love God

enough’ or any such nonsense. You; you get it.”

Lying there in silence for a few minutes, Ken finally found the courage to ask the question he was afraid to know the answer to.

“Will I ever see you again?”

A long pause, then Gabby replied, “No.”

“Why?

I know I go to school in Massachusetts, but I’d be a fool to give up on

an incredible woman like you. Why can’t we give it a shot?”

With

a sigh, she answered, “Because there’s something you don’t know about

me.” Taking his face in her hands and gazing deep into his eyes, she

continued, “I’m dying, Ken.”

He blinked twice, uncertain if he had heard her right. “Dying?”

“I

have; a rare and aggressive form of grade IV brain cancer. The doctors

diagnosed me about two months ago. I have less than six months to live.

They said they could treat it, but it would only buy me another year at

best. Even if it were successful, I’d be so weak from the chemo that I

wouldn’t be able to do much of anything. So, I opted for a powerful

regiment of pain management and resolved to live what time I have left

to the fullest. Experience all I can, spread as much joy as I can.”

“This

explains everything,” Ken realized. “Why you weren’t scared of me in

the park, even with me holding a knife. Why you didn’t hesitate to

invite me to your home. Why there was no concern of you getting

pregnant.”

“And why we can’t be together, as much as I want it.

Ken, I meant what I said earlier. If I could spend any amount of time,

and especially years with a guy like you, I would be so lucky and

blessed. You’re a wonderful person, and you’re going to make some girl

happy beyond belief someday. Whoever she is, wherever she may be; I envy

her.”

“I just wish it could be you.”

“I know, Ken, but

you don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to fall head-over-heels in

love with a girl that you know will be dead in a few short months. In

another lifetime, maybe we could have been soul mates. But God seems to

have other plans.”

“Gabby, how can you still believe in God

through all this? You said that He works all things for good, but what

good can come of this?”

She collected her courage, deciding to

tell him her darkest secret, one that not even her own family knew.

“About a month ago, I was in a really bad spot. I still believed in God,

but couldn’t believe He would put me through such pain and suffering. I

had dreams, hopes, plans; but all for naught. I got low. So low that,

one night, I almost did; what you almost did.”

“Take the easy way out?”

“Exactly.

I nearly went through with it, but at the last moment decided to sleep

on it. That night, I had a dream. Someone, I don’t know who, was

speaking to me. ‘Your life still has meaning. You still have a purpose.’

That’s what they told me. There’s no way that was a coincidence. When I

woke up, I promised myself I’d find that purpose for my life. Tonight, I

may have done just that.”

“What do you mean?” Ken asked.

“Ken,

if I had killed myself, I wouldn’t have only been responsible for my

own death. I’d have also been responsible for yours. I wouldn’t have

been there to talk to you and convince you there was a better way.”

“That’s one way of looking at it, I guess,” Ken mused, pondering her realization.

“There’s

more, Ken. You’re going to be a brain surgeon. I have no doubt about

that. If I’m not there tonight, how many lives are lost in the future

because Dr. Ken Dix isn’t around to save them? How many children have

their lives snuffed out from you not being there to ward off the hand of

Death? You are going to help so many people in your life, Ken. I can’t

tell you how happy that makes me.”

“And all that is worth the horrible death you’re destined for?”

“Absolutely,” she replied without hesitation.

Shaking his head, Ken said, “You’re a far better human being than I am.”

Kissing

him lightly on the cheek, Gabby whispered, “Don’t sell yourself short.

You had a moment of weakness, but walked back from the brink. Doesn’t

matter how or why, the fact is you didn’t go through with it. Hang on to

that.”

“So there’s one thing that still confuses me.”

“What’s that?”

“With you being as religious as you are, I still don’t get why you aren’t at mass tonight? It’s Christmas Eve, after all.”

“Well;

shortly after my diagnosis, I had a falling out with Father Maxwell. He

was comforting at first, but soon began trying to convince me to allow

him to pray over me for healing. He said that my tumor ‘was not unlike

that of a demon needing to be exorcised.’ That hurt me deeply. If I had

let him pray over me for healing, yet was not healed, the logical

argument could be made that God refused to listen! Good people get sick

and are cut down too soon, but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t pray

hard enough or that they didn’t love God enough. After those

conversations; I couldn’t take anything that man said seriously. I’ve

made my peace with God; that’s more than enough for me.”

Nodding,

Ken replied, “I think you made the right call, and that’s not just

‘cause I’m a religious cynic. Your reasons make perfect sense.”

Gabby

smiled and snuggled up in the crook of his arm, pulling the blanket

over them in the process. “Thank you, Ken. For everything. I can’t tell

you how thankful I am to have met you tonight.”

Kissing her on the forehead, he whispered, “Merry Christmas, Gabby.”

Christmas Morning.

Gabby

awoke on Christmas morning feeling surprisingly cold. Turning over, she

saw that the other side of the sleeping bag was now empty; Ken had

already gone, it seemed. As she rubbed her eyes awake, she found a piece

of paper on his pillow with a note written on it.

Gabby,

I’m

so sorry for leaving before you woke up, but I think it will be less

painful this way for both of us. I’m guessing from your statements last

night that you’ve fallen for me, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t

crazy for you. As much as I want us to be together, deep down I know

you’re right. It’s just not meant for this lifetime.

I want to

thank you for giving this religious cynic the most valuable insights on

God, that he’s ever heard in his life. I have a lot to mull over and

some serious questions to ask myself, about the man I want to become.

Though I never said it out loud, I’m so sorry that I considered killing

myself. It was selfish and shortsighted of me. Thanks to you, I realize

that now.

Gabrielle Libertine, you are truly one of God’s gifts

to mankind. For me, you’re an Angel of Mercy; descended from on high at

just the moment I needed you most. I promise you, from this day on, I

will never again consider killing myself. You have my word of honor. In

your memory, I am now devoted to finding my purpose in life. I do want

to help people. I do want to save lives. I do want to find a special

girl to spend my life with. And thanks to you, I still can. Thank you

for everything, Gabby. I pray that your life will be full of joy and

happiness.

All my love, Kenneth Dix.

P.S.

 Merry Christmas to you and your family.

Tears

of joy streamed down her face as she read his message. Gabby had hoped

that her efforts might in some small way have an impact on Ken, but to

see such immediate effects was more than she could have ever hoped for.

To bring about such direct improvements in a young man’s life was truly

the greatest purpose she could ever imagine in her life. She no longer

had any doubt in her mind; this was God’s intention all along. Perhaps

she had lost the love of her life, but she had also saved the love of

her life, giving him a second chance at love in the process.

“Merry Christmas, Ken. God speed,” she whispered, kissing her fingers and touching them to the paper.

The sound of a phone ringing from the sofa interrupted her thoughts. Reaching over, Gabby saw that it was her mom.

“Hey

Mom! Merry Christmas; Yes, I slept in front of the tree; Oh, your

flight’s already here? Awesome! Lemmie get dressed, and I’ll come get

you guys; Love you too. Bye.”

Mother’s House.

Ken

pulled up to his mom’s house in a taxi around seven that morning.

Before he was even halfway up the driveway, Helen was already running

out to meet him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Ken! Thank God you’re alright!”

“I’m fine, Mom. No worries.”

Taking his hand, she said, “Come on, Uncle Lee wants to talk to you. He’s up in your room.”

Ken

climbed the stairs in relative silence, pondering what sort of

conversation awaited him. Arriving at his room, he entered, closing the

door behind him. Uncle Lee sat at his desk chair.

“Ken.”

“Uncle Lee.”

The two eyed each other for several seconds, the tension growing in the room.

“Mom said you want to talk to me,” Ken said, sitting on his bed.

“Yeah, I do. Ken; I was a real ass yesterday.”

“That’s not really fair;”

“No.

No, it is. You were right about everything. A real man stands up for

his family, lends a hand to someone being ganged up on. Truth is; I was

afraid to get involved yesterday. I was afraid if I did; you’d never

learn to be self-sufficient. Fact is I was a coward. Plain and simple.”

Sitting for a moment, Ken replied, “It’s alright, Uncle Lee. We’re still family, after all.”

“Glad

to hear you say that,” Lee said, rising to shake his nephew’s hand.

“Now, as my apology, how ‘bout you and I pay a visit to this Jason

character? Make sure he knows what’s what.”

“That’s; really kind of you, Uncle Lee, but I’m not interested.”

“Not interested?”

“Jason

Brown’s a fucking dumbass!” Ken said with a laugh. “He’s peaked in his

life; even he knows that. It’s all downhill for him from here on out.

Me? I’m going places. Hell, I’m on scholarship at MIT, aiming to go to

Harvard Medical in a few years. Why should I care what a stupid jock

thinks of me?”

Lee studied his face for a few moments. “There’s

something different about you, Ken. You’ve got this look in your eye. ‘I

don’t know where I’ll end up, but wherever it is, I’m going to be

kicking ass.’ That’s what it says to me. What’s up? What did you do last

night?”

Thinking of Gabby, Ken smiled and answered, “Just; took

some time alone, found a bit of peace and quiet. That’s where I do my

best thinking. It let me put things into perspective, figure out what’s

most important to me.”

“Huh. Well whatever you did, I like the results. Still as smart as ever; but somehow more confident.”

“Thanks.”

“So what was Jason so hot about, anyhow?”

“Ah,

he had seen me talking to his sister, Jacqueline. She and I had been

partners a lot in school, and I stopped to chat when I saw her in the

parking lot. He didn’t like that.”

“Seems like none of his fuckin’ business.”

“Yeah,

but she’s just as mean as he is, deep down. She’s just really good at

hiding it until the opportune moment; for her, of course,” Ken

explained.

“She shot ya down in the worst possible way, eh?” Lee realized.

“Yeah,” Ken said, recalling his lowest moment from last night. “Her loss, though.”

“Damn right, it is! Come on, we got presents to open,” Lee said jovially, leading the way down the stairs.

The Gravesite.

“Come on, Tiffany. It’s this way.”

“Where are we going, Ken? What’s so important that we have to wait until tomorrow to leave for our honeymoon?”

“You’ll

see. It’s just up ahead. Besides, all our patients are in good hands

with Dr. Nguyen. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Always the hopeless romantic.”

Ken

clutched the hand of the gorgeous redhead following him, running his

finger along the rings on her left hand as they went. The pair remained

careful, always watching where they stepped, as several tree roots

popped up from the ground along the trail. Finally, they reached their

destination.

“Here she is,” Ken said.

The couple stood in

front of a headstone, simple yet beautiful in its design. Tiffany, still

confused, began to read the words carved on it.

“

Gabrielle Dorothy Libertine.

February 10, 1993 to April 29, 2017.

Loving daughter, sister, and friend.

An Angel of Mercy.

“Ken; who is this?” Tiffany was confused.

“Well;

I’ve told you about the night I almost killed myself. Remember how I

said that there’s more to the story, but I wasn’t ready to tell you

yet?”

“Of course.”

“She’s

the rest of the story, Tiff. Ten years ago, to this very day, Gabby

arrived at the moment I needed her most; and saved my life. If it hadn’t

been for her, I wouldn’t be here today. I’d have done it. She had no

skin in the game and was going to die of cancer a few months later, but

she felt called to help me nonetheless.”

Turning to the

headstone, he continued, “Gabby; It’s me, Ken. I did it. I did

everything you said I would. Became a brain surgeon, save the lives of

kids every day; and I met the love of my life. This is Tiffany Sanders,

or Tiffany Dix, as of yesterday. We met at Harvard. We practice medicine

together, we help people; she’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And

because of everything you did for me; I made it. You saved my life,

showed me what worth I had, encouraged me to find God’s purpose for my

life, hell you even took my virginity. Gabby, no words could ever

express my gratitude for you. All I can say is; thank you.”

Moved

to tears, Tiffany collapsed to her knees, touching the letters on the

headstone with her fingers. “You; saved my husband’s life? You would

spend what little time you had left on Earth helping him? My God;

miracles do happen, after all. I; I love him, Gabrielle. I love him with

all my heart. He completes me. Ken’s always had his doubts, but I know

there is a God. I know there is a Heaven. And if everything Ken said is

true; that’s exactly where you are today. Please, watch over us. One

day, I plan to thank you in person.”

Ken rested a gentle hand on

her shoulder, comforting her. Tiffany began to rise to her feet,

wrapping her husband in a long embrace. They shared a long, tender kiss,

thinking of nothing but each other. At long last, they parted, their

eyes locked together.

“You ready to start our life together?” Ken asked.

“Yeah; more than ever.”

 based on a post by auguy86, in 2 parts for Sex Stories.