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From: One Gallus <onegallus@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Counselor 13, 14, 15
Date: Wed, 25 Oct 2000 09:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "C 13.txt" begin>
{ASSM}
Title: Counselor Part 13 (MF, rom, oral, anal, feet) Author: One Gallus,
<OneGallus@yahoo.com>
Disclaimer Not to be read: by anyone under the age of 18, or if it
violates the standards or laws of your community, or if adult erotica
offends you.
Not to be posted on any other site, or changed, or used in any way
without author's permission.
THE COUNSELOR
Part 13
After sending the poem, I did a lot of pointless surfing on the web,
discovering a wealth of information about nothing at all. It did finally
exhaust me, which was my goal, and I wearily turned off the computer and
lifted myself by pushing against the chair-arms.
I felt my back pinging from sitting so long in one position. As I rose
and found myself in that half-crouching, half-standing position that I knew
only too well. As I lifted my knees, I felt like I had lead weights on my
thighs, and the muscles in my lower back were twisted into a ball. I
forced myself to the toilet and peed through the agony, barely hitting the
aperture. I was in too much pain to shower, so I washed my hands while I
sucked in gulps of air through my teeth. I gagged down a Darvocet and
dragged myself to the bedroom. Fully clothed, I went down on the floor
next to my bed, pulling the pillows and covers off on top of me. I opened
my eyes and saw the light was still on, but I could not rise to switch it
off. There, with the blanket and bedspread in twisted disarray, the bright
light filtering through my eyelids, I felt the reassuring hardness of the
floor pushing up against my hip, and I fought through to sleep.
Friday morning, I looked at the clock, 11:10 AM. I lay still without
pain, but my bladder was insisting I get up. I rolled to my stomach then
scrunched to my hands and knees. I climbed the side of the bed with my
hands, bit by bit, like going up a ladder, till I could rest my elbows. No
pain, so far. Then I pulled up, and felt the compression seize me. I
repeated the same bathroom agony, but forced myself into the shower this
time, where hot water tatooed me till my back was glowing red. As I dried
off, I remembered the Darvocet in the medicine cabinet. It is not unusual
for me to forget pain medication, because it is the last thing I want to
take. I simply do not want to put my mind under the control of any
substance, but necessity was upon me, and I succumbed. I read the label,
"Take one or two capsules three times a day as needed for pain." I took two
this time, and an irrational notion flashed in me that I would enter drug
rehab by the end of winter. After brushing my teeth, I shuffled back to
the bedroom and onto the floor, wearing only my mid-thigh underwear shorts.
The phone rang. I opened my eyes and looked at the time, one o'clock. I
crawled to the phone on the dresser, and pulled it off into the floor,
making a bang. Then finding it, "Hello?" Breathing came over the line, a
kind of hesitancy. "Hello?" "Clifford? Is that you?" Reilly asked.
"Yeah," I managed, "it's me."
"What's wrong with your voice?"
"I just woke up," I said.
"Wow, you must have had a wild time last night!" she crooned in that
sweet thick mocha voice.
"Yeah, real wild," I croaked.
"I'm back early!" she said.
"You left early," I countered.
She giggled, "I think the school will dock me on that one for sure," she
said.
"So, are you still alone over there?"
"Oh yes, I'm quite alone."
"Could I come see where you live?" she asked.
"Reilly, I am in utter pain, it's my back. "No, coming over wouldn't be
a good idea."
"Gee, I'm sorry, Clifford, can I get you anything?"
"No Reilly, I'll be OK, I just have to rest."
"Clifford, you don't sound right."
"What's that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.
"You're angry at me."
"I.I." then I sighed. "Reilly, I'm not mad, but I feel so strange,
really odd."
"I have offended you, haven't I?"
I couldn't speak for a moment. "Reilly, I'm not blaming you for
anything, you were straight forward with me all the way. I knew what you
were going to do. I guess I was just not emotionally prepared for it when
it happened."
"Could we talk?" she asked.
"Reilly, I'm not up to talking right now, I'm sorry."
"I don't want to lose a friend, Clifford. Have I lost you as a friend?"
"Right now, Reilly, I'm going to have to learn to cope with my feelings,
if I ever figure out what they are. I didn't know this whole scene would
affect me this way. I'm sorry, I just can't see you right now."
"Will you ever talk to me again?" she asked.
"Sure I will, but I need some space and time."
"You're not just putting me off are you, Clifford?"
"No, Reilly, I mean it, really."
"Let me know when you're ready, Clifford." she said very somberly.
"OK Reilly."
"See you Tuesday at class?" she asked.
"No, I'm quitting the class, Reilly."
She was silent.
"I won't leave you in the lurch with all those papers. E-mail them to
me, I'll keep that up, but I'm not coming in."
"God, Clifford! I feel horrible!" she moaned.
"I'm sorry, Reilly, it has to be this way right now. I'm just not up to
it. I promise you this, I will talk with you when I can, just give me some
time."
"OK Clifford." I waited in silence for her to say more. Then she said,
"All right, Bye."
"Bye, Reilly."
The pillow was at my feet. I hooked my toes around the pillow slip and
pulled the pillow within my reach. I managed the same way with the
blanket. Oh that blessed Darvocet! I fell asleep immediately. I was
awakened again at 5:00 PM by Emily, calling from Nashville. She
sympathized with my back trauma and offered the comment, "You should never
have lifted your mother." She was right, the experience of that year would
probably cause me problems like this the rest of my life. But this truth,
coming from her, was of little comfort to me.
Emily had decided to stay through Monday and come back on Tuesday. I
tried not to sound relieved before I told her goodbye. I lay back flat, my
eyes were now open wide. Suddenly I was ravenously hungry! As I carefully
stood, I glanced at the mirror. My bare back and legs were textured from
the carpet. I examined my self closely and snorted a laugh. I wandered to
the refrigerator which was still groaning under the weight of Emily's fear
I would starve. I peeled off a thin slice of of ham from a plastic zip
lock bag and stuffed the whole thing in my mouth. I looked in the pantry,
and grabbed a bag of potato chips and took them back with me to my desk,
and booted up the computer. I took a poptato chip from the bag and popped
it into my mouth.
I fumbled around putting a storage box under my keyboard and monitor,
and I soon stood upright at the computer screen. As long as I could stand
straight, I'd be OK. I reached for the bag of chips but clipped it instead
and it tumbled, open-end down. My hand snatched at it involuntarily and
succeeded only in slapping it across the room, strewing the chips across
the floor. As I reached, a pain torpedoed my hip, and I stepped to the
side to balance my lunging body. My foot came down hard on the bed of
chips, grinding them into the carpet. I pulled my feet together and
carefully stood straight; the pain receded. I was not going down on my
hands and knees to pick up those chips. My stomach growled. I picked up
the phone and dialed directory assistance for Donato's, and had them dial
the number for seventy cents. "I want a pizza delivered I said. Make it a
large."
"Whatcha want on it?"
I thought a moment, "Make it a Veggie and Chicken combo."
I went online and checked my e-mail, and there it was, the only message
listed, a letter from dreadmil@overland.com. I stared at the address, took
a deep breath and shook my head, and I exaled. I crunched through the
potato chips, leaving a trail of crumbs halfway down the hallway. In the
kitchen, I picked a Vernor's out of the refrigerator and marched carefully
back to the computer room. I looked again. "Re: Phone Number." Then I
clicked on the message and a short note appeared: Clifford, I don't have
your telephone number. Information says it's unlisted. Please call me.
Millie." I looked at the time of the message, 1:05 PM.
I stared at the phone in apprehension. Unlike my stomach, my mind was
full of undigested food, now someone else was putting another full plate
down in front of me. I sighed, and dialed Millie's number. She answered
before the first ring was through.
"Hello Millie."
"Clifford, I've been worried, I thought you would have checked your
e-mail before now, I was about to send another one."
"No, I've been on the floor all day, my back is out."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Thanks. Floor time is the only thing that helps, that and Darvocet." I
said.
"Clifford?"
Yes?"
Hesitation, "Are you alone?" she asked, unsureness in her voice.
"Yes, looks like I will be till Tuesday."
"Have you eaten?" Her voice was still uncertain.
"No, not yet."
"Let me bring you some food?" she said.
I considered for a long moment. "Millie, I've already ordered a pizza.
If you can come now, we'll share it."
Her voice lost its tentative edge."Really? What kind?"
"Donato's Veggie and Chicken combo."
END OF PART 13
<1st attachment end>
<2nd attachment, "C 14.txt" begin>
{ASSM}
Title: Counselor Part 14 (MF, rom, oral, anal, feet) Author: One Gallus,
<OneGallus@yahoo.com>
Disclaimer Not to be read: by anyone under the age of 18, or if it
violates the standards or laws of your community, or if adult erotica
offends you.
Not to be posted on any other site, or changed, or used in any way
without author's permission.
THE COUNSELOR
Part 14
I went to my closet and found a loose, light gray sweatshirt wide
striped with purple and blue. I selected a pair of neutral toned khakis,
thick socks and my bulky Rockports to slip over them. It was a struggle to
dress, and I labored to keep myself in line at all times, fearing The Back
would strike me down if I did not stay straight. I shaved and splashed on
that exotic after-shave, Aqua Velva, and patted my face dry. The bathroom
was a mess, and I swabbed my thick towel across the floor, soaking up the
splashes. I looked into the sink and said, "Millie, do those whisker bits
turn you on at all?" I rinsed wiped the sink with a hand towel and put out
fresh ones. Then I dropped everything into a pile in the floor, and kicked
them out the bathroom, down the hall to the laundry room, and closed the
door. I couldn't bend to straighten the bed, so I closed the door on the
mess in the bedroom.
My home office room was a bit shabby, but that was the norm for someone
with as many lopsided interests as I had. A guitar in the floor, a copy of
"The Trumpet Major," on my desk. "Writing the Natural Way" was always
handy, along with a biography of Abraham Lincoln, "With Malice Toward
None." This room would have to remain "as is" too.
I went to the garage and hit the door button. As I did, the Donato's
Van was pulling into my driveway. I met the delivery man at his truck,
paid and tipped him, and carried the pizza toward my kitchen entrance.
Just then, a white Toyota Carolla pulled into the space vacated by the Van.
I waved her into the garage, and she nested her Carolla next to my Escort.
She exited the car, smiling, eyes flashing. "Hi Clifford!"
"Hello Millie, welcome to my home," I smiled.
I stepped aside and she walked up the steps through the door into the
kitchen and turned to wait for me. I had installed a grab-bar by the door
for my mother when she was with us, and I used it to great advantage as I
pulled myself up, step by step into the kitchen.
"Wow! Your kitchen is large!" said Millie. It would make three of
mine!
"Well," I said, "You are a very compact person, and yours suits you
well. I on the other hand am high, wide and slipshod, and I need the space
to unfold. Are you ready to eat?"
"Sure," she said.
"Well, have a seat, and I will get the dishes. I have Coke and
Vernor's, and Agua Pure Spring Water." I said.
"Water is fine." She followed my stiff movements around the kitchen with
her eyes, and got up to help. She washed her hands in the sink, dried on a
paper towel and gathered the dishes from the cabinet. As she handled the
pottery and the glasses that another woman's hands and selected and
stacked, I wondered if these little truths bore on her mind at all.
Half way through the meal, I stood up. "I'm sorry Millie, I can't sit
for very long. This back... I can stand, and I can lay, but not much in
between."
"That's OK, I probably shouldn't have bothered you by coming, but I just
had to see you after last night," she said, her face serious. "I'm sorry I
was so abrupt, I was-mixed up, scared."
"Angry?" I added, then talking a large bite of pizza.
"Yes, that too," she said. "I wasn't very sympathetic toward your
feelings, I'm afraid."
I chewed my pizza, took a swig of Vernor's and swallowed, too much, too
quickly. The extremely, high, cutting carbonation of the ginger ale
tingled up into the cavity behind my nose, and my eyes, watered. Suddenly
I involuntarily burped, deep and moist and robust. Millie burst into
laughter.
"I'm sorry, Millie, this Vernor's is a killer, but I love it." I took
out my handkerchief and wiped my eyes.
"I know, I can't take it," she smiled.
"Millie, you look beautiful tonight, stand up and model."
She had on a long sleeved, black silk blouse. It was nice to see her
neck for a change, and the collarbone was prominent beneath her skin. A
black pair of pants blended well with her blouse, though not a match. A
silver chain with a shining silver dollar at the end, encased in a black
round frame, lay across her nearly flat chest. Her small feet were
enclosed in smooth black loafers. Her ears were pierced with round, silver
studs and her nails glowed red. She stood, and twirled self consciously,
and came around to face me. Then her face was flushed, and she came to me
as I stood before her. Her arms went around me, just above my waist, and I
could feel her open palms against my back. The cinnamon wafted to me as
she put her head against my chest. My hand went to her back, I felt the
sharpness of her shoulder blades.
Thank you for the "Hummingbird," her voice subdued.
"You are welcome." I said.
"It was beautiful." she paused. "It was sad." She looked up at me, and
her dark eyes were glistening. "Men have not been good to me." Her ear
went back against my heart. "They haven't cared."
My hand lifted from her back, I rested it on the side of her face,
covering her ear, and pulling her against me. "I care."
"What?" She lifted her head against my hand and turned her eyes toward
me and smiled, "I'm sorry, all I heard was booming in your chest."
"I said, `I care.'"
She looked at me deeply, then laid her head back on my chest and pulled
in tightly, snuggling.
"Millie, would you mind if I lie down on the floor? I can't stand like
this anymore."
She released me immediately, and said, "Of course, Clifford, I'm sorry
if I hurt you."
"No, no, it's just that if I stand too long, I turn into marble, and
then I topple over, like a ancient Greek column."
"Where?" as she took my arm.
"Greece."
She punched me softly in the stomach. "Where do you want to lie down?"
"In the living room," I said, and she led me past an open dining area
and into the soft carpet of the living room.
"Clifford! This is a palace!"
"Nope, not really, we got it from a couple who'd been trying to sell it
for a year. We couldn't believe they accepted our offer, and it's exactly
what we needed with Mother."
Millie held my hands while I went down, stiff backed in front of her.
When I reached my knees, she said, "Wait Clifford, I can see us in the
mirror!" She was looking over the couch to a large plate glass mirror
against the wall, tilted down slightly. "I want to remember this picture,
always!" she said, giggling.
I released her hands, "Well, here's a better one, I'm going down on my
face before you." I slid my knees back and brought my head down on the
carpet.
"You don't have a camera, do you?"
"Ahhh," I groaned, ignoring her suggestion, and came up on my elbows.
"You'd be surprised how much this helps."
"Clifford, I have to tinkle," she said.
"Straight down the hall, the door will be in front of you."
I heard the toilet flush in a bit, then after a long while, the door
opened.
Then another door opened. Uh-oh, I thought, she's checking out the
place.
I lowered my elbows, and touched my forehead against the carpet.
Silence. Where could she be? When I lifted my head, her tiny bare feet
were in front of me. "You're as silent as a cat when you sneak up on a
guy!" I remarked.
"Only on wounded guys, she laughed. I brought some medication," she
said.
"Medication?" I asked.
"Yes, you had some lotion in there, and I ran it under the hot water and
let the bottles sit in it a while. Let's see, this one smells like--like
vanilla, and this one smells like--like nothing at all. But it's slick.
Take your shirt off."
I started to raise my self to a kneeling position.
"No, never mind. Stay where you are." Then she knelt with a knee on
either side of my head, leaned over and grasped the tail of my sweatshirt.
She skinned it off my body by inches; I helped by lifting various portions
of my chest, till finally, she backed away with it in her hands. Then she
slid a pillow beneath my head, which I turned to the right, and relaxed.
Now her knees came back around my head and she leaned out over me, and I
felt the warm lotion spreading on my back. My nose was against the bend in
her knee, and I breathed deeply, trying to catch her scent. I smelled only
vanilla.
She worked my spine, from my neck down to my waist, kneading and
pressing as she went. Several times she lunged heavily, at least as
heavily as she could, and there was no pain, just deep, deep pressure. I
groaned with pleasure and relaxation. "You like that?" she asked.
She went to my side and rubbed along my belt line. She oiled her palms
and slid them under the belt, to reach the lower back. I felt her little
fingers pushing.
Then she shifted to my feet. She untied my shoes and slipped them off,
then pulled my socks off. "Clifford, there's room enough for two families
in your shoes."
"Yeah, well, I rent them out a night." I felt her slick hands slathering
the lotion on my foot. Her little thumbs were pressing into the arch. I
felt the looseness climb my leg and spread up into my back. Then came the
other foot. "O Millie, I can't tell you how good that feels!"
"Loosen your pants, Clifford."
"What?"
"I need to get to that lower back," she said, straightforward, just like
my chiropractor.
I rolled to my side and unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants, then
lay back on my stomach. I felt her hands grip the belt and pull it down. I
know from the final jerk she gave the pants, three or four inches of
cleavage must have been showing.
"That's better," she said.
I felt her hands rub across the bare skin of my lower back, keeping the
pressure on, putting what weight she could behind it, which to me, was just
right. Her hands, being so close and nearing so much intimacy, stirred me
into a beginning firmness, pressing against the floor.
"Wait a minute," she said, and I waited.
"What are." I said, wanting her hands back on me, beginning to turn my
head. Then I felt her bare legs straddle me and felt her feet push up over
my shoulders, hooking over them with her toes. She was facing my buttocks,
and as she put her hands back on my lower back, I felt her thighs and
calves, sliding about against my slick sides. "Oh Millie." I sighed.
Her hands were now under my pants, palms and fingers gripping my
buttocks, the slick of her hands making it easy. All the way down she
went, cupping my ass cheeks with her fingers, kneading them, then spreading
them.
"Millie, Millie."
I felt the warm lotion being poured into the crack and running down past
my anus and onto my scrotum. Her hand followed the crease, fingers
slightly in the crevice itself, tracing on past and pressing me firmly
behind my balls.
She paused, her hands had returned to my lower back. "Clifford, I want
to kiss you."
"Yes, darling, kiss me." She lifted her leg over me and sat, leaning on
her stiff left arm. Her legs, one on top of the other, ran along my side,
and her feet close to my face. She was still wearing her blouse. Her
panties were black and rode about three inches beneath her navel. In spite
of her lean frame, her belly sagged a bit. The brand a baby leaves on a
woman, the bluish marks, was also apparent. The veins in her shapely but
thin legs were also showing through. A couple of spider-like marks of tiny
purple capillaries marked the bend of her knee. This was a sixty-year-old
woman. As I rolled to my side, she saw me gazing and said, "Sorry,
Clifford, what you see is what I am."
<2nd attachment end>
<3rd attachment, "C 15.txt" begin>
{ASSM}
Title: Counselor Part 15 (MF, rom, oral, anal, feet) Author: One Gallus,
<OneGallus@yahoo.com>
Disclaimer Not to be read: by anyone under the age of 18, or if it
violates the standards or laws of your community, or if adult erotica
offends you.
Not to be posted on any other site, or changed, or used in any way
without author's permission.
THE COUNSELOR
Part 15
I lay back on the pillow aware of my stiff penis rising beneath my
shorts. I lifted my arms to her. "I want what you are."
She shifted her body to kneel beside me, her hands on either side of my
head. I looked up, beyond the black silk, into her face. Her focus
appeared to be traveling past my eyes, to somewhere inside of me. Her face
was very serious. Then it seemed, she retreated out of my mind, and her
eyes came back to rest on mine. She smiled slightly, and lowered her red
lips to my mouth. I smelled the lipstick, a woman scent, covering a
woman's scent. I tried to breathe past it. She kissed me with closed
lips, soft, but closed. Then she placed her hands on my arms, holding them
to my body, and kissed my chin, my cheeks, and my neck. I smelled into her
short, dark hair, sensing only cleanness. She kissed my chest, lifting her
hand to caress its graying hair. As she did, I lifted my hand to her
shoulder and felt the silk. She gently pushed my hand back down to my body
and held it there.
I could hear her periodic intake of breath as she identified my own
scent. She kissed my abdomen, slightly older than her own. I had been
abandoned by thirty pounds last year, leaving me trimmer, but less than
firm. Her hands came away from my arms but I did not move them. My penis
was still covered but struggling against the shield of white cotton, the
elastic very close to it's base. The salt and pepper hair was visible, and
she put her mouth on it and drew in her breath. She captured some of the
hair by compressing her lips tightly, then pulling up as she did, letting
it be dragged from her mouth, then repeating the movement again.
Now she was kneeling at my abdomen, and her thumb was under the elastic.
She looked at me and then flicked it off. She gasped. I felt my heart
plummet, what was it? I knew I wasn't overly large, or small, but maybe
she had been used to the ideal. I must have disappointed her. I started
to move.
"Lie back and let me look, Clifford. I have never seen an uncircumcised
penis before."
"Are you--I mean, are you all right with it?"
"Oh yes! But all the men I have ever seen in my 59 years were
circumcised, except for babies." I felt some better, and lay back, but I
doubled the pillow so my head would be elevated enough to see her.
Not yet having touched my genitals, her lips neared my penis toward the
base where she had been. She again buried her mouth and nose in the pubic
hair, moving around me, nudging my penis with her cheek, but keeping her
lips away from it. She had not opened her mouth to me.
Then she sprawled on her stomach, feet alternately swinging, she shifted
her weight to her left elbow and took me into her right hand. Her touch
was very tentative, very gentle. She stroked me downward and watched,
fascinated, as the skin peeled away to reveal the glans.
"God, Clifford, I've never seen this before." Her hand glided upward,
taking the foreskin with it, covering the head. A tiny, clear bead of
moisture seeped from its end, and then she brought it back down, putting
the pressure on this time. The moisture spilled over onto the glans and
she stroked up, enclosed it with my foreskin, I felt its slickness.
"Aren't most men circumcised?" she asked.
"Well, all I know about is the quick locker-room check, and I can say I
haven't seen nearly as many of us guys as I have those guys." I said.
She reached her thumb and two fingers to the foreskin, taking it
lightly, sliding it around on the head as the pre-ejaculate dribbled out. I
could feel a threatening pleasure building in my thighs and running to my
center. I did not want to cut this short.
"Millie?"
Her mouth opened and rose over my member and darted its tongue out to
manipulate the foreskin. It grew slicker inside.
"Clifford, you taste sweet," she said.
"Millie, let me."
"Now Clifford, we can't have that back go out again, can we?" she asked
playfully. "Tonight, I am the cow, and you are the farmer."
"Pardon me?" I said, puzzled.
She held my penis to her face, and said, "One night the farmer came out
to milk the cow, and the cow could tell he was aching all over from working
hard all day. She turned around and said, `Look, you're in a bad way. I
will help you out. You just hang on, and I'll jump up and down.'"
I snorted a laugh, bobbing her hand, as I contracted my belly. "Oh
Millie, you are special."
She kissed up the length of my penis and ran her lips down over it once
again. Then she lifted her shoulder over it and smiled at me, her left arm
over my belly. She smiled, "I love to kiss, I love to kiss everywhere."
"Yes you do," I said, and I'm glad,"
Millie seemed completely comfortable with her body now, unconcerned as I
was about its flaws. She hooked her thumb under her panties and drew them
down over her right hip. Then pushing against my body with her left side
and arm, she lifted herself a bit, and brought them down on the other side,
then taking them all the way with her right hand, pulling them over her
feet. She reached for a lotion bottle and said, I hope this isn't cold
now. She poured it on my upper body and began spreading it around my chest
and belly. I groaned in delight.
Then she squirmed back astride my hips, her buttocks pushing my penis
back toward my feet. Then she sat, on it, her cleavage along the top of
its length. I felt her wetness, sliding over me. I looked to see the
heavy growth of curly hair, quite long, very black and untrimmed. Her
littleness was so pronounced her legs looked stretched to the breaking
point across me. The ligaments in her inner thighs stood out, cutting into
her hair. She was incredibly sexy like this, all elegance and Eros and
smallness. She continued to back up until my penis had been transversed to
its tip, and then I felt her hot moisture on the top of my foreskin.
Millie then started moving forward, into the head of my penis. I felt
the sheathe of foreskin run along her vagina, husking itself back over,
baring the head to the wet heat. On she came, and deeper I went, until I
was embedded completely in her. Her smallness was there in her sex as well
as her frame. She groaned and began to move slowly, and I felt her
slippery grip around me. Now she lay on my chest and my hands went to her
back. The silk blouse moved smoothly over her skin as she shifted with a
kind of lazy intensity. My fingers lifted, and the silk grazed against my
fingertips, which registered a slight quickening in her movement. She
accelerated from there, soon pounding against me furiously. I looked down
but could only see her dark head, charging and receding. I felt her chest
hugged tightly against my chest, and now she emitting an audible pant.
I drew in my own breath deeply through my nose, and it burst out through
my lips. I knew my time was near. Suddenly her tiny body stabbed itself
deeply on me, and shuddered. "Ah Clifford, dearest. Oh sweetheart!"
I increased my own abandon, and followed her pleasure into my own, where
it flushed from me into her, then backed into my legs and chest.
"Mille, darling, yes," I could only murmur.
We dozed there together, awakening only to caress the body of the other.
"Millie?" I said.
"Hum?"
"Sit up, darling."
She sat up and looked at me with half-close eyes, her smile was radiant.
I moved my hands to her sides and ran them up to her armpit, loving the
damp warmth there.
I want to see you naked, Millie, totally naked."
"Hush!" she said, and came back toward me for an embrace.
"No, not this time, I want to see you; take the shirt off."
She sat up straight and tensed, "Clifford, there's nothing there, my
breasts are not my strongest suit."
"I want them, I insist," I said, "I'll love them. I love small
breasts."
"Please, Clifford. Don't make me.
"Millie, you are a beautiful person, why all this worry about breasts?"
She was very agitated, perhaps I should not have brought it up, but I
had visualized seeing her that way, and I wanted it. Some people were just
overly sensitive about their body, and she must be one of them. This issue
had suddenly become too important to me.
She sensed my demand, and started to unbutton her blouse. Her face was
white with fear and doubt. I smiled, hoping to put her at ease. I watched
as the silk fell apart and revealed a black bra beneath. It made me think
of my daughter's training bra when she began to develop. Millie didn't
take her eyes off me.
"Let me, have your hand," she said.
I gave her my right hand and she guided me up under her bra. Beneath
it, I felt the most wonderful pear shaped softness I could imagine, just a
scant hand-full.
"Darling, you feel marvelous," I said, "Please let me see."
"Clifford, that's all I have."
I was puzzled. I looked at her quizzically. "What do.?"
"I'm sorry, Clifford, it's all I can give you."
My hand was still on her breast, but I was frozen in uncertainty.
"What.what do you mean, Millie?"
"What I mean, Clifford, is that I have only one breast. It was cancer."
"Oh, Millie, I'm sorry," I said.
"I'm not a young woman, Clifford." Her voice was artificially hard.
Slowly I said, "Nor am I a young man, Millie."
"Now you won't want me!" Her voice caught. Her face was stricken.
After a moment she shook her head resolutely, "I'm sorry, what a grotesque
thing to do in the midst of making love! I'm sorry, I should have just
told you. I'm sor."
I put my left hand over her lips. "Shhh, Millie, be still."
She stilled, and I put my hands gently on her shoulders, and trailed
them slowly down her arms, bringing the straps of her bra with them, and
slowly uncovered her chest. True enough to my touch, her left breast was
beautiful, like a child's beginning to grow. Where her right breast had
been was simply flat, with a four-inch scar running horizontally. I heard
her sob one time as I gazed at her.
I don't know why I did what I did, but I was moving before I thought. I
gripped her under her arms as I had done that night on her couch. I lifted
her easily, and felt her rise from where she had been sitting on me. I
pulled her up toward me, and lowered her to my lips and held her there,
kissing the place where there was not a breast.
<3rd attachment end>
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