Synopsis: Molly is a deeply closeted lesbian. After a neighbor man comes to her aid the two become fast friends. They can talk and share without the emotional stress of a romantic involvement; that is, until Molly needs help taking an enema. The intimacy of that experience causes her to re-examine their friendship.

Chapter: [ I | II | III | home ]

It was a night I won't soon forget. I was walking toward my apartment building. As I passed an alley I heard a shriek. Whatever possessed me I don't know, but I sprinted in that direction. In dim light I saw a tall, bald and tattooed figure holding a young woman. She was bent over, her skirt folded over her back and her briefs around her knees. He held her in an arm lock and was pressing his hips against her buttocks.

"Help! Rape!" she cried.

I looked around the alley for something to use as a weapon but found nothing. "Hey! Stop!" I yelled.

Her assailant pushed her to the pavement and headed my way. The next thing I felt was a thud against my jaw that dropped me to the ground.

The girl knelt beside me and helped me to my knees. "Are you all right?" she asked.

I rotated my jaw to make sure it wasn't dislocated and then took inventory of my teeth with my tongue.

"I'm supposed to ask you that," I replied. Then I whipped out my cell and punched in 911. While we awaited the squad cars I dug out my wallet and handed the girl a business card. "Here," I said. "In case you need to get hold of me to testify or whatever..."

Several days later I was in my apartment finishing some Chinese leftovers when I heard footsteps approaching my door. I looked up expecting to hear the bell ring. Instead I saw an envelope pushed under my door.

Inside was a thank-you card, with her business card enclosed.

Thank you, it read, for coming to my aid. I know what you did rose above and beyond the call of duty. I would love to repay your courage and concern. How about a home- cooked dinner? Saturday at six -- apartment 505. Molly. PS: RSVP regrets only -- M.

Saturday I approached her door and rang her bell. "Molly?"

"Come in," she said. I stepped in and handed her a paper bag. "What's this?" She withdrew a bottle of rose wine. "You didn't have to."

"My mom taught me never to accept an invitation empty- handed," I replied. "Since I didn't know what's on the menu I thought I'd bring something that'd cover all bases."

I regarded her. Molly was in my estimation a few years younger than I. I figured she must be in her late twenties. Her round face was youthful and pretty with a cute, upturned nose, broad mouth and full lips. She was petite, but a little chunky and with a full figure. Her eyes were deep, clear blue and her hair medium brown with reddish highlights. She was wearing a tee, cut-off shorts and flip-flops. Her legs were short but full and shapely with dimpled knees and well-formed calves.

Molly gestured me to the sofa. "Dinner is meatloaf," she said. "It still has some time in the oven. I'm afraid I'm not a very good cook, but this is something my mother taught me."

"Sounds wonderful," I replied.

"So -- did you spend much time with the police?"

"The other night? Yeah -- they took my statement ... had me look through mug books ... did a composite sketch. They say it's the same guy who's been terrorizing this part of town. How did you make out?"

She sighed and held her forehead in the palm of her hand. "The worst part was going to the hospital for the forensics exam. I was poked and probed and swabbed and photographed..."

"I had never thought about that part of it."

"It wasn't until two days later I looked at your card -- and realized the address was an apartment here in this building."

"Yeah -- I didn't realize we were neighbors."

"It seemed odd -- I've never seen a business in this block."

"I work out of my apartment," I explained. "You could've phoned -- I answer that number day and night."

"I'm naturally a little shy," she replied. "I prefer writing notes -- that way I can polish my words so I don't embarrass my self."

"It was a very sweet card."

"I meant every word of it -- you didn't have to come to my aid. You put yourself in harm's way for me."

"I would have done it for anyone," I replied and then stroked my jaw. "Of course, now that I HAVE done it for someone I'm not sure I'd do it again."

"I did want to thank you in person," she added and stopped short. A burning odor wafted from the apartment's kitchen, "Ohmigosh..."

Molly jumped up and sprinted into the kitchen. "The potatoes have boiled dry," she said glumly. "I was going to mash them."

"Just boiled is fine -- the crispy bits add character."

"You're too kind... Oh no! The meatloaf!"

She pulled open the oven and brought out a pan holding an overly brown oblong object.

"Looks like you saved it," I observed.

"There's a corkscrew in the drawer," she said. "Why don't you open the wine and I'll set the table.

She put a plate before me. I scooped some of the meatloaf.

"How is it?" she asked.

"Charcoal is good for the digestion," I replied.

"Other than the crispy ... the charred bits ... how..."

I nodded "Pretty good. If I were making it, thought, I'd add some onion..."

"Onion!" She smacked her forehead with her fist. "I forgot the onion..."

"Molly -- it's OK. We can't all be cordon bleu chefs."

"Don't tell me you are one," she replied. "Please don't..."

"I'm not -- but I am a pretty good Asian chef -- Indian, Chinese, Japanese ... Malay... How would you like to try some of my shrimp Vindaloo? Next Saturday, same time, my place?"

"With or without crispy bits?" she asked.

"With -- but only where they belong."

She nodded. "It's a date."

We finished the wine and she served ice-cream sundaes -- perfectly made -- for dessert. I glanced at my watch. "It's getting late," I said. "I'd better go..."

"Wait," she said and approached me. "There's something I have to say to you -- to clear the air."

"What is it, Molly?"

"You seem like an awfully nice guy and ... I ... I feel ... chemistry between us."

"I feel it, too. I wasn't going to push anything -- not on a first date..."

"There's a problem..."

I gazed at her. "Let me guess ... you're engaged..."

"...no..."

"...seeing someone..."

"I'm ... between someones..."

"What is it, then?"

She looked into my eyes. "I'm a lesbian..."

I stroked my forehead. "Well..."

"Please understand how difficult it was for me to tell you that." She pressed her hand to her chest. "My heart is still pounding. No one else knows, but I had to tell you."

"You're pretty far into the closet, then."

"Pretty far. I wouldn't have told you if I didn't think..."

"I'm discreet. I won't tell anyone unless you want me to. Molly -- it doesn't matter to me what your orientation is."

"You're not upset? Disappointed?"

I shrugged. "I like you, Molly -- and I'm in this with you. I have your back. If they catch that guy and put him on trial -- well, the going can get a little rough. I'm sure I'll be asked to testify. I'll give you what moral support I can."

"I appreciate that."

"And -- I suppose there's no reason we can't be friends. I know a lot of straight girls who like to hang around gay guys. Why can't a straight guy be friends with a gay girl?"

"Why not, indeed."

"We can go to bars together ... check out the girls ... after all, I like what you like." She suppressed a giggle. "And if you ever need a beard..." I held out my hand. "Friends?"

She took it in hers. "Friends," she replied.

"And, we're still on for Vindaloo next Saturday."

"I wouldn't miss it."

I started to turn the doorknob. "Molly -- if you ever want to talk or have some company ... I'm in my apartment most of the time."

"I wouldn't want to disturb you."

"You can't -- I won't let you. If I can't talk I'll tell you. Okay?"

She nodded. "Good night."

Wednesday I was working at my laptop when the doorbell rang. I opened it and saw Molly. "Is it a bad time?" she asked.

I gestured her in. "No -- what is it?"

"I need some advice."

"Okay..."

"I was at lunch and when the waitress brought me the check this was stuck to it." She handed me a yellow Post-it note:

Hi. I've seen you in here the past few days. I'm new in town and I like you. Give me a call -- no strings, no expectations. -- Britney.

"And," I remarked, "she left her phone number. Funny -- I never had a sticky note like this on any of my lunch checks. Are you going to call?"

"That's why I wanted your advice," she replied. "My last ... relationships ... were in college. Four of us with the same ... interests signed up for a suite in the dorms. It was easy to keep things quiet..."

"And, in college who cares?" I remarked.

"Exactly. I haven't had any since I graduated..."

"Then you're due for some. What's the harm in calling her?" I asked and regarded her. "You DID call her, didn't you?"

She nodded "We have a date Friday -- there's a club she wants to go to... I wanted to know if you think I should keep the date."

I shrugged "Why not?"

"Suppose it gets serious?" she asked. "What would happen to us?"

"Us?"

"You and me."

"Molly -- you make it sound like we're a couple when we're only friends. If you found someone to care for you ... well, I'd be delighted."

"Really?"

"Really. And I don't understand how it could hurt our friendship."

"Thanks..." She turned toward the door and stopped. "You know -- you're more like one of my girlfriends than any guy I've ever known. I mean that as a compliment..."

"I'll take it as one."

"...of the highest order. Thanks again."

She headed out the door. "Molly," I called after her. "I want a full report Saturday night."

"You've got it."

Saturday was the last warm day of the fall -- so said the weatherman at least. I had slipped into polo, a pair of shorts and sandals. I heard my bell ring and I let Molly into my place.

She inhaled deeply. "Oh, it smells so good in here ... and I'm so hungry." She held up a bottle of Riesling. "This should go with Indian -- shouldn't it?"

"Yes -- good to put the fire out."

"I'll start chilling it."

"Dinner's almost ready -- just putting on the finishing touches..."

I set a plate before her. "Shrimp Vindaloo ... Basmati rice ... dahl ... some raita to quench the fire... That Riesling will go wonderfully with this."

She scooped a forkful. "Mmm..." Then she picked up a chapatti. "I see some char..."

"It's supposed to be there -- to caramelize the flour for flavor."

"Funny how much better it tastes like this..."

"So -- how'd it go?"

"How'd what go?"

"The big date -- with Britney?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "All she wanted was to get into my pants. We had little in common -- just pure physicality."

"Don't knock pure physicality," I replied. "It can feel pretty good."

"It's not what I wanted. I'm not going to see her again."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," I replied.

"And, she SMOKES! That is the most disgusting habit."

"I agree one hundred percent. You know, Molly -- the more I get to know you the more I think you're the sort of girl that needs a connection first."

"Yes -- you're right." She scooped a mouthful of rice. "I think I have more in common with you than with her. It's why I feel so comfortable around you."

"And," I added, "no agenda."

"Right -- no agenda..." Molly set down her fork and regarded me.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No ... it's nothing."

"It must be something."

"It's ... no -- I'm too embarrassed."

"Don't be shy -- we're friends."

She shook her head again. "It's just ... I look at you across the table ... the conversations we've had .. the vibes I get from you... It makes me..." She shook her head again. "It makes me a little curious, that's all."

"Curious about what?"

"What a physical relationship with you would be like."

"So you think you'd like to try batting for the other team?" I asked.

"No -- I like pussy too much ever to change. I just have pangs of ... curiosity."

"Have you ever had straight sex?" I asked.

"No ... never."

"Then, technically you're a virgin."

"I would not classify myself as a virgin," she replied and sipped her wine. "Virginity is more a state of mind, don't you think?"

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Well, it's been years since I've been in a virgin state of mind." She swirled the wine in her glass. "Have YOU ever had gay sex?"

"No -- never," I replied.

"Haven't you ever been ... curious?"

"You mean..."

"Haven't you ever wondered what a gay relationship would be like? Haven't you ever had a crush on another guy?"

I leaned back in my chair. "Well... Maybe when I was about twelve... There was this kid in my class. He had light, light blond hair -- almost an albino -- and pale blue eyes. I really liked this kid."

"Enough to fuck him?" she asked.

I chortled. "At twelve that was pretty far from my mind."

"It wasn't far from mine at that age," she replied.

"Then either you were precocious or I was slow."

"What happened to this kid?"

"I lost track of him. I don't think he even knew I existed."

"How sad," she said, "unrequited gay love. You never felt that way about another guy?"

"You know -- as I matured I lost interest ... I started finding men to be repulsive. To this day I'm more comfortable around women and prefer women as friends. I guess you could call me a male lesbian."

Molly nearly blew wine out her nose laughing.

I sipped some of the Riesling. "I think it's the hair that turns me off."

"I'm with you on that one," she replied. "There's nothing that repulses me more than seeing a man's hairy legs." She shuddered. "I mean -- some guys actually have nice-looking legs ... IF they weren't hairy that is." She skewered a shrimp with her fork. "I was looking at your legs when you let me in..."

"And?"

"You have nice legs ... and they're not TOO hairy."

"I'm not hairy like some guys."

"I know... I like legs. I guess I'm a leg girl." She popped the shrimp into her mouth. "You never told me," she said.

"Told you what?"

"What you do for a living -- other than whatever it is you do, you do right here."

"I'm a freelance writer," I answered.

"Does it keep you busy?"

"It's a living."

"What sort of writing? Fiction ... journalism ... what?"

"Lots of different things," I replied. "I do some ghost- writing -- when some celebrity has a book deal sometimes the writing needs to be tweaked a little."

"Anyone I've heard of?" she asked.

"Oh, certainly," I replied.

"Who?"

"I've signed a confidentiality agreement. If I told you then I'd have to kill you." She pouted. "There's one I can tell you. Have you ever heard of Doctor Jack?"

"The Quack-Buster? Yes -- he has a show on cable."

"We started as a syndicated columnist and now we have a book coming out."

"We?" She looked at me wide-eyed. "YOU're Doctor Jack?"

"Not exactly. Jack McLaughlin is a real doctor, but he can't write worth shit. So, he and I collaborate on columns and on the book -- which comes out next month in fact. Doctor Jack is my biggest client. He pays most of the bills around here."

"How did you land that gig?" she asked.

"I guess I'm uniquely qualified. You see -- I went through four years of medical school before bagging it and becoming a writer. I didn't have the ambition to go through a residency and set up a practice." I gestured around the room. "Here I have no office overhead and with computers and the Internet I can email my contributions. It works out good for me, at least. Of course I'm not locked in this room. Many times I've traveled with Doctor Jack to investigate the alternative medicine practitioners he seeks to expose."

"Wow," she replied. "It makes my job seem so mundane."

"What do you do?" I asked.

"I'm an administrative assistant for an investment firm -- I'm working my way up to become a bond analyst."

"That's an impressive job, too," I replied. "I'm no good with money. I don't have a good relationship with it. It's a means to an end for me." I picked up my plate. "Finished?"

"It was very good."

"I'll clean up later -- there's some wine left. Care to sit on the sofa?"

"Sure," she replied. "Did you have after-dinner plans?"

"I thought I'd watch a movie."

Molly picked up a Netflix envelope on the coffee table and peered inside. "Torn Curtain?"

"Yeah," I replied. "It's a Hitchcock film with Paul Newman. After his passing I thought I'd give this film a peek. I'm a fairly big Hitchcock fan."

"I love old Hitchcock movies," she said.

"Then, let's watch it." I slipped the disc out of its sleeve and slipped it into a player on a bookshelf.

"Watch it on what?" she asked as she looked at the blank wall across from the sofa.

I lowered the lights, picked up a remote and pressed a button. The projector concealed in the coffee table illuminated the wall with a theatre-sized image.

"What a great way to watch a movie," she said.

I set her wine glass on the table and took my place on the sofa. Molly sat beside me. About halfway through the film she snuggled against me.

Then I felt her drift to sleep.

I nudged her "Molly ... Molly -- the movie's over."

"Mmmph," she said and rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry -- it happens every time I watch a movie. I fall asleep and when I wake up the menu is playing over and over again." She stood and stretched. "I'd better be going. Thanks for dinner -- it was delicious."

"Same time next week?" I asked.

"Sure -- what's on the menu?"

"I dunno," I replied. "I'll have to think about it."

The next morning I arose and stepped into the shower. The promised cold front had moved through overnight and now the temperature hovered in the mid fifties.

I soaped up and looked down at my legs. Some impulse made me reach for my razor and slip in a new cartridge; then I began shaving them. I knew I'd feel self-conscious wearing shorts but with the cold weather upon us that wouldn't be likely for several months. I guess the conversation Molly and I had was fueling my curiosity.

After drying off I stood and examined them in the mirror. Molly was right -- they weren't bad looking, and shaved they might pass for a girl's. I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

Chapter: [ I | II | III | home ]

My bell rang. I opened the door and saw Molly. She appeared agitated.

"Did the city attorney call you?" she asked.

"Yes -- I spoke with him earlier. Did he call you?"

"Just a message on my machine. What did he say?"

"They caught the guy. He wants us to testify when it comes to trial."

"Oh, God!" I opened my arms and Molly fell into them, trembling. "Oh, God..."

I held her and kissed the top of her head. "Don't you want to see the guy punished?"

"Of course, but I'll have to go through it all over again. I'll have to face him. I don't know if I can..."

"I have your back, Molly. I'll be with you. The D.A. said they have at least three other women he attacked. Their plan is to try the cases separately in hopes of piling on enough consecutive sentences so he'll be put away for a long, long time." I kissed her hair again. "The trial won't be for several weeks. It'll give us time to work up some courage. Then it'll be over."

"But what if he gets off?"

"Unlikely -- they have physical evidence ... your account ... my account."

She lay her face against my chest. "It feels good when you hold me."

"Do you want to sit on the sofa?" I asked, "'til you calm down?"

"Okay..."

She sat beside me and I slipped my arm around her shoulders.

"What kind of a guy gets his kicks out of assaulting someone?" she asked.

"Rape isn't about sex or gratification," I replied. "It's about power. It's a hate crime."

"Why did he pick me?"

"You were just unlucky enough to cross his path."

"They gave me the morning-after pill at the hospital ... made me feel awful..."

"You're not on the pill? I asked.

"I'm a LESBIAN -- why would I need to be on the pill?"

"Point well taken," I replied.

"...I was sweating bullets until I got my period..."

"But you did get it," I said as I stroked her shoulder.

"Yeah I got it ... but I still have to go in for regular AIDS testing..."

"Now that the caught the guy they can test him and maybe you won't have anything to worry about."

"Maybe..." She kissed my cheek. "I'm feeling better now. I should go -- you probably have work to do."

I walked her to the door. She took my hand and squeezed it. "Thanks."

"See you Saturday?"

"Okay."

Saturday evening my doorbell rang and I admitted Molly. She gave me a quick hug and stepped into my kitchen.

"Seeing as how it's such a cold and dismal day," I said, "I decided to make goulash and noodles. There's nothing better than a Central European dinner on such a day -- comfort food. After a meal like this you know you've eaten something."

Molly sat at the table and picked at the plate before her.

"Is something wrong?" I asked. "Do you not like it?"

"Oh, it's delicious -- as usual," she replied. "I guess I'm not feeling very well."

"Are you coming down with something?" I asked.

She shook her head. "It was a bad week at the office with the market melting down ... then the call from the city attorney ... thinking about testifying... The only good news is they tested that creep for HIV and it came back negative -- so at least I don't have that to worry about..." She looked up at me. "I have a lot of stress ... okay?"

"It's not okay if it affects you physically," I replied.

Molly stood and paced. "When I get stressed it affects me here." She pressed her hand against her abdomen. "I get all bloated and..."

"Constipated?"

"Well, no -- it's more complicated ... yes I guess so ... I wasn't going to use that word..." She turned to face me and held her blouse tight against her belly. "See how I'm bloated?"

"It's hard for me to judge."

"I did go to a doctor ... he thinks I have some mild form of irritable bowel syndrome."

"Did he give you anything for it?"

"Yes -- some Xanax."

"Xanax?" I replied. "For IBS?"

"He thinks it's anxiety related and it's supposed to relieve anxiety. But I don't like taking it -- it makes me feel ... dopey."

"But -- does it work?"

"Not really -- by the time the symptoms appear it's too late for it to help."

"By the time you feel poorly the anxiety has already done its dirty work," I replied.

"Exactly. You're almost-a-doctor. What would you recommend?"

"Well..." I headed to my laptop and began flicking through folders. "Back before I started working for Doctor Jack I would've recommended a laxative ... start with something mild like ducosate or milk of magnesia and work up to bisacodyl or senna."

"I usually resort to that but I hate the cramping."

I pressed some keys and my printer whirred into action. "Now I would recommend something different."

I took the sheets from the tray and handed them to her. "This," I said, "is Doctor Jack's column on enemas from a couple years ago... You don't have to read the whole thing -- the summary at the end says it all."

Molly read aloud, "Although some of the wilder claims of the holistic medicine crowd may be dismissed as specious, and the fringe advocates of treatments such as coffee enemas as downright dangerous; the fact remains that for immediate relief of simple constipation in otherwise healthy patients few treatments are as safe and as effective as a gently-administered large-volume tap water or mild saline enema."

"Have you tried that treatment?"

"...no..."

"The real advantage is that you're treating the final three feet of your digestive system -- where the problem is -- than the entire thirty feet of it."

"Or, my whole body like with the Xanax."

"Precisely. In addition we're talking about a mechanical rather than a chemical mechanism and one that's much more natural. Interested in trying it?"

"What do I have to lose?"

"Let's walk down to the corner drugstore and acquire the necessary apparatus," I suggested.

"I'll get my coat."

I waited by the elevator for her and rode to the street level. A short walk took us to the Duane Reade on the corner. I found the appropriate shelf and reviewed the inventory.

"I recommend this," I said, pointing to a box containing a combo syringe. "It's a closed-top syringe which has the advantage that you can set it down without spilling the contents."

"Fine," she said.

I picked to box from the shelf and carried it to the checkout. "This one's on me," I said.

We headed back to the apartment. "Thanks for buying that," she said. "I would've been too self-conscious."

"No reason to be," I replied. "It's not like it's illegal or anything." We walked a bit further. "The article on enemas was one of my first assignments with Doctor Jack. It's the first one that involved a field trip."

"Field trip?" she asked.

"Yes -- he and I went to an enema spa on an island off of Thailand. It was an all-expense-paid trip to Thailand and I couldn't turn it down."

"An enema spa?" she asked.

"Yes -- run by a one of the fringe advocates Jack alludes to. He believes we all develop a buildup in our colons from years of lousy diet and that by fasting and flushing it can be removed. It was at this camp I learned the fine art of administering an enema. It's going to be a big chapter in Jack's book."

"So, did you get thoroughly flushed?" she asked.

"Thorough enough for my tastes," I replied. "I was there mainly to interview the participants. One guy claimed that the treatment dislodged a ball-bearing he had swallowed as a kid. This thing had remained lodged in his gut for over twenty years. Another guy -- an older chap -- claimed he actually expelled metallic mercury that he ingested years before from taking calomel."

"Do you believe these claims?" she asked.

"I believe the ball-bearing one -- because I saw the actual article. The mercury one I kinda dismiss ... in no small part because calomel was deprecated as an internal medicine by the 1860s."

We arrived at the apartment building. "My place or yours?" she asked.

"Yours I think. I'll show you the procedure and then you can handle the particulars on your own going forward."

We rode the elevator to the fifth floor and she unlocked her door.

Molly eyed me. "I don't have to get naked for this, do I?"

"No -- but we will need access to your bottom. It's okay to wear something that preserves your modesty."

"Unfortunately I don't happen to have any hospital gowns in my closet," she replied. "I'll see what I can find."

I carried the box into her kitchen and use one of her paring knives to open the cellophane wrapper. Molly approached me in a long, cotton sleep tee. It had short sleeves and its hem came halfway to her knees. "Will this do?"

I regarded her. "I guess so -- you didn't need to take off your bra, though."

She blushed. "Force of habit I guess ... I never wear one to bed and I never wear this unless I'm going to bed..." She watched what I was doing.

I measured out two tablespoons of baking soda and two teaspoons of table salt into a custard cup. Then I ran water from her tap 'til it was warm.

She pointed to the cup. "What's that for?"

"Baking soda is soothing to the colon," I replied, "and the salt will make the solution mildly hypertonic. That'll make it just a bit more purgative than tap water. This really is an excellent cleansing solution."

I filled a quart measure with water from her tap, dumped in the salt and soda and stirred it with a spoon. This I poured into the syringe bag and followed it with another quart of plain, warm water.

I showed her how the apparatus was assembled; then I snapped open the clamp, blew some air into the bag through the hose and clamped it again.

"What did you do that for?" she asked.

"To give the bag some headroom so I can mix the contents..." I rocked the bag to make sure the solution was uniform. Then I attached the enema nozzle, held up the bag and opened the clamp to flush air from the hose.

"How much water?" she asked.

"Two quarts -- but you don't need to take it all ... just enough to fill you. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

"Grab a towel and we'll go into your bedroom. You need to be horizontal for this treatment."

I followed her into her bedroom.

"I'm glad I made the bed this morning," she said.

"Spread the towel ... to catch any leakage."

She spread out the towel and climbed onto the bed. "I'm kinda nervous," she said.

"Nothing to fear. One of these can be administered with nearly zero discomfort."

"With 'nearly' the operatve word I suppose. How should I lie?"

"We'll start on your left side." I opened a tube of petroleum jelly and smeared it on the tip. "You know where this goes," I said. "I'll turn my back while you insert it. Don't force it -- rotate the tip 'til you open up. Then it should slide in easily."

"How far?"

"All the way.""

"Okay," she said. I turned and looked at her, lying with her back to me. She was tugging down the hem of her nightshirt. I regarded the white hose leading up underneath it, and her shapely legs.

"Now," I said, "put your left arm behind your back and roll halfway onto your stomach. Keep your right knee bent and straighten your left leg... Perfect. Relax and get comfortable."

She pulled a pillow under her face. "Okay -- I guess..."

"I'm going to start the flow," I replied. "We'll go real slow at first. If you should feel any discomfort -- any at all - - tell me and I'll pinch off the flow 'til it passes. Any mild cramping will be due to constriction in your lower colon. It needs to relax to admit the water. Got it?"

"Got it."

"You should NOT feel any sharp pain. If you do, tell me right away."

"Got it," she repeated.

"Here we go..." I snapped open the clamp and held up the bag. Then I grabbed the hose and pinched it to release the water in short bursts.

"I'm feeling it," she said. "It feels like a cool spray inside me."

"The water in the hose has cooled off," I replied. "Once we get going it should feel warmer. Tell me if you feel anything."

"I feel pressure," she said.

"Cramping?"

"No -- pressure ... It just released."

"Your colon folds back on itself down low toward the end," I explained. "If it's impacted then it can take some time for the water to relax it and flow in deeper."

"It's feeling better." I made the bursts longer as more flowed into her; then I let go of the hose. "Oh, I feel it flowing now ... it IS warm ... oh, God -- what a sensation ... the pressure building and releasing."

"Take long, deep breaths," I coached. "The motion of your muscles will flex your colon and help distribute the water.

"I can feel it going deeper and deeper into me," she said.

"Any pressure or discomfort?"

"No. I feel bubbles inside. I've never felt anything like it ... feels kinda good actually..."

The bag was about half-empty. "You're doing great, Molly," I said. "Are you starting to feel a bit full?"

"A bit? More than a bit."

"If you're really bound up you might start feeling uncomfortably full before you take the whole bag. Tell me if you start to feel that way."

"I'm starting to feel that way already," she said.

I closed the clamp. "We'll let you rest a moment before giving you any more."

"I don't think I can hold any more."

I squeezed the bag. "It feels like you took three pints -- maybe a bit more. Pull out the nozzle and I'll take this to the kitchen."

She reached under her hem and retrieved the tip. "Now what?" she asked.

"Roll onto your back if you like. You need to hold it until you feel a strong urge to go -- the longer the better. If you can hold it for five minutes that would be good. Fifteen would be better."

She rolled over and stretched her legs. "This feels a little better... I thought I felt bloated before ... it was nothing like this," she said.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

"Just very, very full," she replied.

"I'm going to massage your belly," I said. "Don't worry -- I'll be gentle." I pressed my palms against her sides; then I traced the shape of her colon, counter-clockwise, from her lower left abdomen, up, across under her ribcage and down her right side. "This will work the fluid into the nooks and crannies ... maybe get some stuff moving. You are full, Molly - - no question."

"I'm starting to feel like I want to go," she replied.

"Hold it 'til the urge is very strong."

"It's getting stronger."

"Keep holding it."

"Enema wants out," she said. "Enema wants out bad."

"Then, go ahead and go."

She swung her feet to the floor and trotted into her bathroom. I went into the kitchen and drained the remaining fluid into the measuring cup -- it measured just under a cup and a quarter. Then I rinsed the apparatus with clear water and blew the remaining drops from the hose.

Molly emerged from the bathroom. She pressed her hand to her belly. "I feel so much better," she said.

"Did a lot come out?" I asked.

"A lot," she replied. That was such a ... different sensation. You're right ... what did Doctor Jack say? Immediate relief..." She looked up at me and bit her lip. "Can we do it again?"

"You want another?"

She nodded. "I don't think we got it all with the first one."

I reassembled the syringe and began running water again.

"Oh," she said, "can we make this one a little warmer?"

"Warmer? Okay..."

While the water warmed up I measured out more salt and soda. I tested the temperature with my finger, filled the syringe and flushed out the hose.

We proceeded into her bedroom again. Molly lay on her bed.

"You can try different positions," I said as I slathered the tip with Vaseline. "I had you take the first one in Sim's position -- it's a good one for a first enema. You should find the position that works best for you. Other good positions are on your stomach or on your back. On your back is good because there's no pressure on your belly."

"I'll try it that way this time." I handed her the hose and turned my back. "Okay," she said.

I faced her. Her lovely legs were stretched out and she was smoothing the fabric of her nightshirt. I held up the bag and snapped open the clamp. "We shouldn't need to go as slow at first this time," I said. "You should be quite a bit emptier, now."

"Oh, I feel it," she said. "You did make it warmer."

"Too warm?"

"Oh, no -- it feels good ... the warmth reaching deep into me ... feels so good..." She stroked her belly up and down. As I was minding the bag I glimpsed her stroking her breast with her thumb. She glanced up at me and smiled, then returned to caressing her belly. I could see her rocking her hips. She was taking deliberate deep breaths and I could see her ribcage and breasts heave.

The bag emptied with a soft glug and I closed the clamp. "Good job! You took it all."

Molly reached under her hem and handed me the hose. "Oh," she said, "I am SOOO full. I think my tummy is bulging." I sat on the bed beside her. "Feel..." She took my hand and pressed it against her abdomen. I could see distention from the enema and her belly felt firm and full.

"You probably have some of the first enema still inside you," I said.

"Well -- I'm going to go get rid of this one," she replied.

She headed to her bathroom. I rinsed out the apparatus again and then waited for her on her sofa.

Molly stayed considerably longer in the loo the second time around. Finally she emerged. "God that felt good!" she said. "It came out in long gushes ... I could feel my stomach shrinking. Look how flat..." She turned sideways to me and pulled her nightshirt taught against her belly. "My stomach feels so empty and so relaxed now."

"So -- do you want another?"

"No -- I want something else."

The next thing I knew Molly was on my lap and unbuttoning my shirt. She slipped her hand under the fabric and caressed my chest. "You're not hairy -- that's a good thing..."

I looked into her face and we kissed.

"So -- did curiosity finally get the better of you?" I asked.

"YOU might say that," she replied. "I might say YOU got the better of me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you were right when you said I needed to feel a connection. I've never felt more connected to anyone than I do to you. Never with anyone. I've been edging toward this moment for weeks. You've been so kind and so supportive. Then the enema -- it pushed me over the brink. The warm water reaching so deep inside me -- it made me so horny -- I never expected it to do that but it did. And the gentle, caring way you administered it. When you put your hands on my stomach I felt ... electricity. It was all unbearably arousing."

"Administering it to you made ME horny," I replied. "I didn't expect that either. I was hoping you wouldn't notice, and I hope you don't mind."

"I didn't notice and I certainly don't mind."

"What about your love of pussy?" I asked. "That's something I can't provide."

"No one's perfect..." We kissed again.

"You said a lesbian has no need for the pill. I suppose she'd have even less need for condoms -- and I'm not the sort of guy who carries one in his wallet."

"Somehow I didn't expect you were," she replied. "If you have some in your apartment ... I can wait."

"That would kill the passion don't you think? Besides -- I don't."

"It's not very Boy Scout of you to be so unprepared," she chided.

"Well -- I've never experienced spur-of-the-moment sex. I figured I'd have some advance warning -- you know, meet a girl ... have a few dates..." I kissed her lips "...dinners together ... discover shared interests ... start feeling connected..." I kissed her again. "...then go buy some condoms. I never expected to be blindsided like this. I'm sorry, Molly -- the man's first and foremost duty is to protect his woman. I'll never do anything to harm you. We can't go all the way."

"Is that a big problem for you?"

"...no -- not really. We'll figure something out."

I regarded her pretty, round face. She continued caressing me. Her eyes brimmed and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Sorry," she said and brushed it aside.

I followed her back into her bedroom. As she turned down the bedcover I stripped to my briefs and stacked my clothes on her chair. She slid into bed beside me. "This is my first time with a guy," she said. "Please be patient with me if I don't know what I'm doing."

"There's a first time for everything," I replied.

We snuggled together and kissed, and she caressed my chest. I could feel her legs smoothing against mine.

She stopped short, sat up and pulled back the covers. "You shaved your legs!" she exclaimed.

"Yes I did."

"Oh, you DO have pretty legs ... very nice..." She knelt and ran her hands along my knees and up my thighs. "Very nice ... your legs would look good on a woman..." She continued caressing my legs, then looked up at me with a broad smile. "Did you do that for me?"

"I guess you could say curiosity got the better of me," I replied.

Molly knelt on the bed. She grasped the hem of her nightgown and gathered it above her hips; then she lifted the gown up and over her head and set it on the foot of the bed.

I beheld her gorgeous nude body. Molly had firm, round breasts that were just about C-cup sized and with large, pale pink-brown, perfectly circular areolas and thick, fleshy nipples. She lay beside me and we gazed into each other's faces. I pulled the comforter up above our waists.

She slid her legs against mine again. "Mmm..." she said, "...smooth legs. I love smooth legs..."

I regarded her breasts. Molly had clear, pale skin that revealed superficial veins as a network of light blue lines. I followed one of the blue traced in her breast as it looped near her areola.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing next," she said.

I led her hand onto my chest. "I think you'll find we both like the same sorts of thing," I said and began teasing her nipple with my finger.

She let out a sharp breath and I felt her legs twitch against mine. Then she began fingering my nipple. "You like?" she asked.

"I like ... you like?"

"Mmm... very much."

Her nipple was firming under my touch and I began rolling it between my thumb and forefinger. Molly gripped my leg between her thighs and squeezed.

"Both hands -- both sides," she gasped in a voice just above a whisper. I shifted to free up my left hand. "Mmm ... deep ... like you're milking them..."

I squeezed her breasts from her chest wall toward her areolas and ended each stroke with a pinch on her nipple. Her eyelids drooped, her lips parted and she began taking deep breaths through her mouth. "You have a nice touch," she said, "and I like your pacing... Oh, it's building..."

I kissed her breast and drew her nipple into my mouth and began nursing. My right hand I slipped behind her and caressed her back and shoulder blade. Molly held my head against her breast as I tongued her.

"Oh, God," she gasped. "This feels so good ... so good... I'm melting into a puddle..."

"Let me know when you're ready for me to move down," I said as I switched to nurse her right breast."

"You're in the driver's seat," she replied.

I fondled her left nipple, still wet and slippery with my saliva. Then I moved my hand down, caressed her abdomen and reached her well-groomed pubic patch. I cupped my hand over her mons, probed her slit and found a pool of her juices. I dipped my finger in and dragged some of the slippery fluid up to her clit and began stroking. "Is this a good spot?" I asked.

"Mmmm... Over to the left a little ... perfect." She grabbed my shoulders and dug her nails into my skin as I stroked.

Her breathing was becoming panting. I lay my face against her breast and could hear her heart pounding and beginning to race. Molly tightened her grip and her thighs began to tremble against my leg.

"Don't stop -- don't change it," she panted. I kept as steady a rhythm as I could and began tonguing her nipple in synch with my stroking.

"Ohmigosh ... ohmigosh," she gasped, "I'm gonna come ... I'm coming..."

She arched her back, drew up her legs and let out a low moan. "Oh, God stop stop ... stop," she panted.

I withdrew my hand and caressed her cheek with the back of it. "Good?"

"Oh ... more than good ... the best." She hooked her arm around my neck and drew my face to hers. I kissed her lips, dry from mouth-breathing.

Molly stroked my face. "You know -- I've had girl partners who couldn't do as good a job as you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"...of the highest order."

"Are you starting to catch your breath?" I asked.

She nodded. "What's next?"

I gazed into her clear blue eyes. "I'm hoping what's next won't be too difficult for you."

"Difficult? How?"

"After your ordeal I thought..."

"Do you mean the rape? Thank you very much for reminding me of it at a tender moment like this."

"Gosh, Molly -- I'm so sorry... I was just afraid..."

"I can't be angry with you. You were thinking of my needs..." She kissed my cheek. "My psyche isn't made of glass after all. I do realize the difference between the creep who attacked my and you."

I lifted up, slid my briefs off and tossed them onto the floor. Molly sat, cross-legged on the mattress near me. She regarded my very firm member.

"This is the first time I've seen one of these up- close," she remarked. "How should I..."

I guided her fingers so they were wrapped around my shaft with her thumb against he underside of my glans. "Just like this -- back and forth ... rub here."

She squeezed me and suppressed a giggle. "You're dripping ... slippery..."

"Like your juices," I replied. "The male and female sex organs are more similar than different."

"I suppose the differences are at the macro level," she observed, "and the similarities at the micro level." She used some of my juices to lube her thumb. "How's this feel?" she asked.

"Very nice." I shifted so I could stroke her breast as she stroked me.

Molly reached and began pinching my nipples, alternating from left to right. "How's this feel?" she asked.

"Very, very nice..."

Her touch was driving me toward climax -- actually less of a drive and more like a short putt. My heart was beginning to pound as the tension built between my legs -- built to an inescapable conclusion.

"Oh, God Molly," I grunted as I came. My first squirt landed on my sternum with a trail of other blobs along my belly. She ran her thumb along the underside of my shaft and squeezed out the last drops.

"Oh my," Molly said, "messy..." She grabbed some tissues from her nightstand and cleaned up the globs. "Was that good for you?"

"It was wonderful for me."

"Me, too," she said. "I liked feeling you have yours." Molly switched off the nightstand lamp and cuddled beside me. I felt her body relax and her muscles give involuntary twitches as she drifted to sleep. Her lips parted and she began regular breathing through both her nose and mouth.

"Molly," I said softly, half-hoping she wouldn't hear, "I love you. I've loved you from the first."

"Mmm," she replied drowsily, "I know you do. I know. I love you, too."

Chapter: [ I | II | III | home ]

Morning light waked me. I looked to my left and saw Molly, gazing at me propped up on her elbow. "Morning," she said.

"Good morning."

She kissed my cheek. "Oooh, stubbly." She stroked my cheek with the backs of her fingers. "...not accustomed to waking up to that..."

"Sleep okay?" I asked.

"Like a baby."

"How's your tummy feel?"

"Still really empty and relaxed."

"Any regrets?"

She shook her head. "None at all."

"Are you hungry?"

"A bit. I usually have a pop-tart for breakfast."

I turned up my lip. "A pop-tart? Come down to my place and I'll fix a proper breakfast -- bacon and eggs..."

"I want to take a shower first."

"I suppose so should I. I really don't want to run out on you..."

"It's okay," she replied. "I'll see you in a little bit."

I slid out of bed and pulled on my clothes; then I grabbed my jacket and keys and headed out her door for the elevator. Once inside I punched the key for the street level and ran for Duane Reade. There I grabbed a box of condoms, stood in line for what seemed an hour and then ran back to my building.

Inside my apartment I stripped down, lathered up and scraped my face. Then, I hopped into the shower where I decided to give my legs another shaving as well.

I put on a polo and a pair of shorts and greeted Molly when she rang the bell. She regarded me up and down, her gaze fixing on my legs. "You know how to please a girl," she said.

She was wearing her cut-offs and I regarded her legs. "You know how to please a guy."

"Our thoughts run in the same channel," she said. She handed me a bag from behind her back. "How about a Champagne brunch?"

I withdrew the bottle. "Wow... I'd better get this on ice right away."

"I'll set the table while you're preparing... Where are your wine glasses?"

"Cabinet above the sink -- wait a minute..."

I opened the fridge, took out a pack of raspberries and dropped one into each glass.

Molly strolled into my small galley kitchen and hugged my left arm as I flipped an omelet with my right. "So what do you think?" I asked.

"About what?"

"You. Did last night change anything?"

"Mmm... Not really. I always knew I'd find a girl who I could really connect with. I never expected her to be a guy. I mean that as a..."

"Compliment? I'll take it as one."

"...of the highest order. You do think more like a girl than a guy."

"Maybe it's why I get along better with women. I feel totally out of water when I'm with a bunch of men."

"I think the world needs more men who think like you."

I popped open the Champagne and poured two glasses. We clinked rims and sipped; then I set an omelet with bacon before her.

She scooped a forkful. "About the enemas..."

"What about them?"

"How often would be too often?"

"Well -- if you read Doctor Jack's article..."

"...which I will ... carefully and with attention to detail..."

"...he has concluded that for someone who's otherwise healthy the procedure is at worst harmless. He even dismisses the notion that excessive use leads to loss of tone in your colon. I'd say that once or twice a week probably isn't too often at all."

"So, making it a Saturday night ritual..."

"Wouldn't hurt you in the least. Are you thinking of that?"

She smiled. "Maybe... I liked having you help with it... Would you..."

"Molly -- any time you need help with an enema give me a call. I'll come running."

There was a bit of Champagne left in the bottle after we finished our breakfast. I carried the glasses to the sofa and set them on the coffee table. Molly sat beside me and brushed her leg against mine. "Smooth legs," she said. "I love smooth legs."

"So I recall..."

"What do you usually do on a Sunday?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I dunno... It depends if I have a backlog of work to do."

"Do you?"

"Not today. What about you -- what do you do on a Sunday?"

She shrugged. "I dunno ... not much."

"How about a walk in the park?"

"Too cold," she replied. "I'm not dressed for it."

"Me, neither. It takes the building super a few weeks to get the heat balanced. Yesterday it was too cold. Today it's too warm -- that's why I put on the shorts."

"Me, too."

"So -- what would you like to do?"

Molly broke into a broad smile and kissed me, then glanced toward my bedroom. "We tried out my bed ... how about yours?"

I drained the bottle into our glasses and we each carried one. I opened the drawer to my nightstand and showed her the box of condoms. "As you see, this time I'm prepared like a good Boy Scout. Are you game?"

"Of course I am." She smiled and turned her back to me as she slipped off her tee. I could see she was wearing a camisole or something underneath it. Then she undid the waistband of her cutoffs and turned again to face me as she dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them.

She had on a taupe teddy with a sheer lace bodice. "As you see, I also am prepared. Do you like?"

"Very nice. I didn't realize lesbians went in for lingerie."

"Why shouldn't we?"

I pulled my polo over my head and stripped off my shorts. I sat on the bed and patted the mattress beside me. Molly sat and I handed her the glass of Champagne.

"Bottoms up," I said. "It might help make things go better."

"Not that we need them to go better," she added.

"No -- but a little buzz can be fun." I drained my glass. "Molly -- there is one topic I think we should discuss."

"What's that?"

"Oral sex."

I could practically hear her crest fall. She drew in a deep breath and sighed. "I don't know if I'm ready for that step -- not yet. I mean -- I'm not saying I'll never be ready..."

"You call the shots," I replied. "You set the pace."

"I mean ... I think I've been really adventuresome since last night..."

"You have been."

"I don't want to be a passion-killer..."

"Oh, you're not."

"I hope you won't think poorly of me..."

"I don't."

"And I hope I haven't disappointed you."

"You haven't."

"I won't say never -- just ... not right now. Okay?"

"You know your comfort zone."

Molly drained her glass and set it on the night stand. I patted my lap and she sat on me. We kissed and then kissed again. I put my hand on her knee and caressed her thigh.

"Molly -- just to make sure we're on the same page ... I was referring to ME performing oral on YOU."

Her eyes grew wide. "I'm a lesbian. I ADORE receiving oral sex." She regarded me. "But -- what about you?"

"I don't care for it."

"Really?"

"I don't like how it looks -- a woman with a dick in her mouth. It looks ... degrading."

"Wow... I didn't think I'd ever..."

"Of course I'd let myself be persuaded I'm wrong -- if I could find the right, willing volunteer."

"Maybe sometime," she said.

I turned down my covers and stretched out with my back against the headboard. "Here," I said and patted the sheet between my legs. Molly stretched out and leaned against my chest.

"I am really feeling the Champagne now," she said.

"Feel good?"

"Feels good." She ran her hands along my thighs. "Mmm ... smooth legs... Do you see how good your legs look?"

"No -- I was distracted by how good your legs look." I slipped my arms around her waist and kissed the top of her shoulder. Then I nuzzled the base of her neck. She suppressed a giggle. "Did that tickle?"

"No ... it felt good... No one's ever done that."

"No one's ever nuzzled your neck?"

"Uh-uhn. And, I like feeling your arms around me."

I nuzzled her again, this time reaching up and running my fingers across her breasts. I could feel her nipples responding, and Molly drew in a deep breath. "Mmm..." I fondled her breasts through the fabric of her teddy. "It feels so good - - especially with your arms around me..."

Next I slipped my finger under the fabric and explored her breast, savoring the different textures of her skin. I looked down on her costume and noticed a pair of buttons holding the bodice together. With a bit of a struggle I managed to get them unfastened and I slipped the left strap off her shoulder to expose her breast.

I had worked up to a deep massage of both her breasts, milking them the way I knew she liked. Molly kept caressing my legs, occasionally grabbing my skin and digging in her nails.

"This feels so good," she said. "But there's one problem..."

"What's that?" I asked.

She turned around and knelt straddling my thighs. "I can't touch you..." She began caressing my chest and working my nipples. "You know -- my roommate in college wasn't much bigger on top than you are..."

I ran my hands up and down her back and then pulled her toward me so I could tongue her nipples, nursing them and alternating from left to right.

"I feel all melty again..." I coaxed her onto her back and then tried to unsnap the crotch of her teddy. "Here -- let me," she said and worked her nails under the fastener.

I knelt between her knees and caressed her legs from her thighs to her ankles. "You have pretty feet," I remarked.

"I'm happy with them..."

"And gorgeous legs. I love your shapely calves."

"Too shapely," she replied. "I can never find boots I can zip around them."

"Skinny legs wouldn't look right on you, Molly."

"Yes I know. I'm chubby."

"You're not chubby. You're gorgeous and round and soft and shapely -- just like a woman should be. You have a wonderful figure -- everything nicely proportioned."

"I'm happy you like it."

I began kissing and caressing the insides of her thighs, working from her knees, up. Then I lay between her thighs and pet her pubic hair. Molly rolled her thighs apart. I accepted her invitation, worked my tongue into her slit and pushed it into her vagina as far as I could, tasting her copious, salty juices. Gently I spread her labia and found the her clit under its little hood. I kissed it -- it was as hard as a pebble. I began a gentle sucking action while I worked my arms under her thighs, reached up and cupped my hands over her breasts and caressed them through the lace.

"That's good," she said. I felt her flexing her clitoral shaft and I attempted to fine-tune the position of my tongue. Molly ran her fingers through my hair. "Mmm ... just like that..."

I couldn't reach to pull her straps off her shoulders; so instead I went up, underneath her teddy and began pinching and rolling her nipples, my fingers against her skin. "Ohhh..." she moaned. She lifted one arm and then the other, crossing her wrists above her head; and she drew in a deep breath to expand her ribcage. She arched and rocked her torso to push her breasts against my hands.

I looked up at her through her pubic patch. Molly had closed her eyes and let her head fall to one side. Her nipples were now very firm and I continued to roll them in synch with my tongue. Her breathing became panting and I could feel her heart accelerating through the flesh of her breast.

I looked at her face again. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed and she was biting her lip. I had been rolling her nipples between my thumb and middle finger. Now I added brushing their tips lightly with the nails on my forefingers. That did the trick.

"Oh, God!" she gasped and groaned. Her thighs began to tremble. A red flush spread across her face as she chewed her lip and grimaced, and a vein in her forehead began to bulge.

"Too much, too much!" she panted. I let go of her breasts and lightened the pressure of my tongue 'til I was barely touching her glans -- all the while keeping my rhythm -- then I began caressing her abdomen. "You can stop," she said and touched my face. "I said you can stop ... oh! It's feeling good again..."

I ramped up the pressure with my tongue and reached under her to grab her buttocks. She rotated her pelvis upward and this gave me a different angle of attack on her clit.

Molly moaned again and gasped. I could feel her coming this time -- a rhythmic pushing of her pelvic floor against my chin. She fell limp, panting; then tensed her legs and I felt more pulsing. She moaned again. "Oh, God! Stop!" She covered her mons with her hand.

I came up from between her legs. The flush now extended to her neck and chest, and two wet lines ran from the corners of her eyes to her temples.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I am so very okay..." I helped her sit, cross-legged on the bed and I lifted the teddy from her. She threw her arms around my neck and covered my face with kisses.

From the nightstand I retrieved the box of condoms, tore it open and removed a foil pouch. Molly helped unroll it onto me and I stretched out on my back. "Ready?" I asked.

"How do you want me?"

"On top..."

Molly climbed onto me on all fours. I held the base of my shaft and steered it to her entrance. She lowered herself onto me, rolled her eyes upward and let out a low groan.

"Are you all right?" I asked. "Did I hurt you?"

"It felt good going in -- better than I expected. Why did you think you hurt me?"

"I was concerned," I replied, "since you said you haven't..."

"If there was anything left of my hymen -- that creep in the alley took care of it."

I bit my tongue. "God, Molly -- I brought him up again. I'm so sorry."

"No -- I brought him up this time... I'm okay -- really."

I held her, my right arm across the small of her back and my left around her shoulder blades; and I rocked my hips to push into her has deeply as I could. Molly brushed some stray hair off her face and looked into mine. I gazed into her blue eyes and she smiled.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.

"I'm savoring," I replied. "This feels so good."

"Feels good to me, too." I continued to hold her and look into her face. "NOW what are you waiting for?" she asked.

"For you."

"For me?"

"Yeah -- I did you, now you do me."

She began rocking her hips. "Like this?"

"That's good. Build up a rhythm..." I slid my right hand down her smooth buttocks and could feel the muscles in the back of her thigh as she increased the force of her thrusting. I caressed her bottom and explored the depths of her crevasse with my fingertips. She was quite wet and quite slick from earlier -- I think she left a dinner-plate-sized wet spot on the sheet. My finger encountered her anus and I slipped it in, up to my first knuckle.

Molly increased the vigor of her thrusting. My finger slipped in further and she pushed harder, grunting with the exertion.

"I don't believe it," she panted. "I'm gonna come again!" She doubled both the force and the rhythm of her humping, and her back was becoming moist.

Then, she let out a guttural groan. I could feel her sphincter tightening and pulsing against my finger.

"Where are you?" she gasped. "Aren't you coming?"

"Soon..."

Now I joined the fray, pushing hard against her. I felt my climax approach. "Oh Molly," I grunted. With both hands I grabbed her buttocks and pressed my hips hard against hers and ejaculated; then I fell limp against the mattress.

Molly collapsed on top of me. I stroked her hair and kissed her cheek. She turned her face and we kissed on the lips.

I reached under and snagged the rim of the condom. Molly rolled off me and then snuggled under my arm.

"That was terrific," I said.

"I still feel it," she replied. "It feels like you're still inside me... Mmm... I get these little aftershocks..." She pressed her mons against my hip. "That was a good one... I've never been big on penetration... I used to play with vibrators but never put one inside me. It felt better than I thought it would."

"It felt as good as I thought it would," I replied.

"And -- where did you learn that tongue action?" she asked. "I have never come more than once..."

"How many did you have?"

"Three I think -- not counting the one just now. The first one felt normal ... but you wouldn't stop. Then next thing I knew I was coming again and again. It was so intense -- if you didn't stop I think I could've come a lot more."

"Then -- why did you make me stop?"

"Good question... It was just too intense. Still -- where did you learn that technique?"

I shrugged. "It just seems the right way."

"It is indeed... If other women knew you had that sort of technique -- you'd need to fight them off with a stick."

"Then it'll be our little secret -- okay?"

Copyright (C) 2008 by the author. Redistribution in any form is strictly prohibited without the expressed, written consent by the author. For more works by the author visit K-Files Home .