index


Message-ID: <28998asstr$982858205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
Subject: {ASSM} The Innocent Fugitives Ch16 {Varkel} (MF m+g Mg oral anal ped size)
Date: Thu, 22 Feb 2001 11:10:05 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

The Innocent Fugitives
a Novel by Varkel
Copyright (C) 2001, Varkel



Chapter 16: Basement Adventures


Bobbie was always willing to pause for men and boys.

School had concluded for the day, but she had an appointment with 
the science teacher to obtain a make-up study list for next 
week's test.  On her way to that teacher's office she crossed an 
intersecting hall down which the corner of her keen eye spied 
boys.  Six, seven of them, stood in a loose grouping at the far 
end of the other hall.  They were older ones from the higher 
grades.  Something about their stance was too casual, almost 
furtive.  Reflexively she stepped back in concealment.

The last students were just departing via the outside door behind 
her.  The hall rang with multiple door slams and shouts of 
exuberant freedom.  When the echoes died away, only the hiss and 
hum of hidden machinery remained.  Carefully she peeked around 
the corner toward the group of boys -- just in time to see the 
last two or three pass through an open door, the farthest on that 
side, and close it silently behind them.  Unconsciously she noted 
the lack of light on their faces, suggesting that this was 
neither a door to the outside nor even to a room with windows, 
and shook her head without understanding what troubled her.

She had to see Ms. Bragg!  She marched quickly along to that 
lady's office but, when a seat was pointed out, soon realized 
that she need not have hurried.  Ms. Bragg was talking on a 
telephone, something about round lots with puts and takes, 
whatever that meant.  Bobbie tapped her foot impatiently.  The 
woman was giving someone detailed instructions that obviously 
contained nothing of interest to Bobbie, though her ears perked 
up at a few phrases, such as, "The ups and downs are coming too 
fast, I want to get out from under that one," and "Hold him up 
for another point.  I don't feel like giving it away."

After waiting a good ten minutes by the clock on the wall, the 
woman, still on the telephone, fished around on her desk and 
handed Bobbie a stapled sheaf of papers.  "These are my notes on 
the Solar System, which is mainly what the test will cover.  Take 
good care of them.  I want them back."

Bobbie understood this as permission to leave and whirled out of 
the room.  She paused at her locker and left off the books from 
her last class, as well as the new study papers, before hurrying 
down the hall where she had seen the boys.  At the door, almost 
uniquely unlabeled -- strange, she now realized, if the purpose 
was to avoid drawing attention -- she paused and looked back 
along her path.  It was empty of people.

She turned the brass knob.  It was a heavy steel door but opened 
without complaining.  Beyond were dim metal stairs, leading down 
into gloom, though not complete darkness.  She slipped through 
the door, stepping down the first two treads, and closed it 
silently behind her.  She listened and heard men talking.  But 
were they men or the boys she had seen?  They had looked big 
enough to have men's voices.

A handrail was set into the brick wall.  Holding it for balance, 
she tiptoed down the stairs and around the midpoint landing, 
carefully drawing near the dim doorway at the bottom.  She peeked 
around the edge.

A large box with firelight flickering beneath it squatted at one 
end of the windowless basement room:  a furnace, of course, whose 
fire provided warmth and the only illumination.  What interested 
her were the boys squatting in a rough circle on two air 
mattresses laid on the concrete floor.  Except for shoes and 
socks they were stark naked.  Clothing was draped over two 
sawhorses nearby with books stacked beneath them.  Three of the 
boys sat with backs toward her, but of the four whose faces were 
visible, three leaned back against the wall with eyes drifted 
shut, each gripping his erect penis in one hand.  The fourth one, 
closest to the fire, likewise secured his manhood while his other 
hand held an open book up to the light.  He was reading it aloud 
with clarity and precision.

"'... Is a real woman in minature.  She has the shape, and a 
swell one, too, and she even uses her body the same way as a 
woman of twice -- that is, of normal -- size.

"'She has wonderful tits.  They're so small that when you put 
your hand over one of them it's hidden, but for her size they're 
regular showpieces.  There's not a chance in the world of taking 
a fuck between them.  Arthur's cock looks like a baseball bat 
when he tries it later.  But it's an entirely new sensation to 
suck some bitch's boobs by putting the whole works in your 
mouth.'"

One of the listeners exclaimed, "Wow, I bet!"

Bobbie's eyes narrowed with a plan.  She slipped out of her 
clothing, aside from shoes, leaving it folded neatly on the last 
stair step, as the reader continued, "'Arthur's found something 
to bitch about.  He wishes he had his Kodak with him.  He doesn't 
want to take dirty pictures, he tells Charlotte.  All he wants is 
just one picture of her on the couch next to him, so you can see 
the cock he's got and what little she's got to take it with.  
Charlotte is peeved by that.  What kind of a girl does he think 
she is, anyway?  But that doesn't keep her from grabbing his dick 
as soon as he has his clothes off.  Arthur and I lay side by side 
and Charlotte sits up between us, playing with both dicks.

"'It's easy to get a finger into that split under her bush.  
Charlotte is as juicy as anyone else, and it's no trouble at all 
when you do it right.  And she likes to play that finger game.  
She lies back and spreads her legs and tells us to go right 
ahead.'"

Another listener declared sagely, "They all like that."

Someone snickered.  "What do you know about it?"

"Here comes the good part," warned the reader.  "'Arthur sits 
sniffing his finger.  He looks at Charlotte's fig and then at me 
--'"

"What's a fig?" someone demanded.

"I think he means her cunt.  'What Arthur's thinking about is 
obvious, but he's being fastidious.  Finally he has jacked up his 
nerve.  He bends over and takes a good sniff of Charlotte.  She 
closes her legs around his neck and rubs her figlet in his face.  
Arthur looks up at me and says I can go fuck myself if I don't 
like it.  He runs his tongue into her and begins to suck.  I lie 
beside Charlotte and play with her boobs.

"'She's a baby doll that I could play with all day, but --'"

Bobbie was able to approach the group closely because those who 
might see her were watching a different spectacle with the mind's 
eye.  All seven jumped when she interrupted.  "Why don't you guys 
play with a _real_ doll?"

"Wh-wh-what?" erupted from several open mouths.  To a man they 
leaned forward over themselves in pitiful concealment.

Bobbie smiled serenely.  "I mean, you're reading about two guys 
doing a midget, right?  I'm almost one."

She slipped easily onto the air mattress next to the reader and 
took his book from nerveless fingers.  "Henry Miller," she read 
from the spine.  "Sounds like a good book."  She gave it back and 
spun around, grinning invitingly.  "Who wants to be Arthur?"

"But -- but -- you're just a kid!" declared one of the tallest, 
voice breaking, eyes wide, crouched on skinny haunches.

"I know what that thing in your hand is for."  She faced him, 
thrust her hips forward and spread her labia with both sets of 
fingers.  "Do you know what this is for?"

The lad blushed over almost his entire body, evident even in the 
dim firelight.

The boy beside him licked his lips.  "She wants it, Tim."

Holding her gash open, Bobbie sank to her knees, then to her back 
in the center of their circle.  "He's right, Tim.  I want it."

The skinny lad already possessed a man's hair at pubes, on chest 
and legs.  With a hoarse cry, he rose up to collapse forward 
between her legs.  He hesitated and looked up at Bobbie 
wonderingly.  "What does Arthur do, just lick?"

She chuckled.  "Let me show you.  Stick out your tongue."  She 
rose up enough for her hands to clasp his temples.  "Now lean 
down."  She guided his whole head.  "That's right.  Just there, 
and all around it.  Put some fingers in."

She looked up to the boy on her right.  "What's your name?"

"Mikey."

She raised up a little farther.  "Kneel down at my shoulder, will 
you, Mikey? ...  That's right.  Slip your knee behind me so I can 
rest my head and I'll show you something you'll like."

When the folded leg was in position, she turned and popped 
Mikey's ruby knob into her mouth.  Mikey gasped.  So did two or 
three watchers.

"You lucky shit!" declared one of the boys on her left, staring 
in obvious envy.

She released Mikey momentarily and grinned around at all of them.  
"Take it easy.  We're all gonna have fun today, and I do mean 
_all_!"

She took Mikey again.  Her hand rose to jack the loose skin 
beyond her lips with almost immediate result.  Mikey groaned.  
She backed away slightly and, still jacking gently, let a white 
streak squirt visibly into her open mouth, bringing additional 
gasps to her watchers and a louder groan to Mikey.  The remaining 
spurts she accepted on cheek and chin before grinning around 
again.

"Who's next?"

"Me!" declared the erstwhile reader before anyone else could 
react.  He pushed Mikey aside and substituted his own leg to 
support her head.  She accepted him immediately.  His eyes 
widened and his face contorted.  "Oh, god, what a tongue!"

Perhaps prompted by the verbal excerpt from _Opus Pistorum_ to 
which he had listened raptly, the boy who had envied Mikey 
squatted forward and lowered his mouth to the girl's left nipple.  
After a moment he raised up and announced, "Just like the book 
said, you can get the whole thing in your mouth."

The farm boy among them grunted.  "Not because she's a midget, 
which she ain't.  She's just a kid who ain't growed her tits 
yet."

"You mean she's too young to fuck?"

The farm boy leaned down and nudged Tim's head slightly to one 
side, exposing the three fingers that he was working vigorously 
back and forth inside her under his tongue.  "Young don't 
matter," he declared.  "She sure as hell ain't no cherry."

"I'm next!" cried the breast suckler, already replacing the 
reader's knee with his own as the other withdrew, groaning, 
leaving last dribbles on her forehead.

But the girl turned her wet face away.  "Oh, god!" she moaned, 
clenching her fists and shuddering.  She drew herself suddenly to 
a sitting position.  Her hands forced Tim's face away from her 
groin.

He sat back in concern.  "Did I do something wrong?"

She smiled reassuringly as she relaxed.  "Girls are the same as 
boys.  You have to let up when they come."  She turned her well-
spotted face around to the others.  "Hey, that's a good start!"

She seemed to study their penises briefly.  Settling on Tim, she 
leaned further forward and caught his hands in hers.  "Come on," 
she said, pulling him atop her as she threw herself back, "do me 
right."

"I'm about to come," he warned her.

"Then you're next," she said, pointing to the breast suckler as 
her other hand guided Tim unerringly.


* * *


The question had been, "Which human tissue can expand by a factor 
of ten in response to an external stimulus?"  Dr. Nathaniel 
Hawker chuckled in amusement as he drew a red line through 
another girl's answer and wrote above it in his near-print 
handwriting, "The iris of the eye."  Once again he refrained from 
adding the punch-line of the old joke, "and I fear you shall be 
sadly disappointed."  It was interesting, though perhaps not 
surprising, that so many more girls answered incorrectly than 
boys.  He gave Peter Scort half credit, as he noted on the paper, 
for originality.  Peter's answer claimed everything _except_ the 
eye and defined childhood growth as the consequence of one 
stimulus:  eating.  He thought to comment further that "What an 
organism does to itself, such as eating or jacking-off, is not 
considered a stimulus," but again refrained.

The school building was very quiet.  With a sigh he leaned back 
and glanced at the clock on the wall.  It was a bit early to 
close up the place, which along with furnace maintenance was one 
of Dr. Hawker's less pedantic duties in this under-funded 
institution, but even Miss Glockinvess, the night-owl math 
teacher, had already wheezed past his door toward the exit.

He took a sudden breath and declared aloud, "Enough puerile 
handwriting and unconsidered responses!"  He rose to his feet, 
donned coat and hat, locked his office and went first to the 
nearby rear entrance of the old school.  He set the extension 
bolts at top and bottom of both doors, hung the "Closed" sign and 
reversed his course through the building.

At the intersecting corridor he turned toward the basement door, 
behind which the ancient gas furnace had to be set manually for 
lowered nighttime output.  He grinned as he trudged along.  
Surely by now the "Fast Fist Literature Appreciation Society" had 
met and duly analyzed the latest chapter of _Opus Pistorum_, a 
book from his hoard that he had loaned to it only two weeks 
earlier.  He resolved to order Harvey, its reader, into his 
office tomorrow for a chat.  It was time to make a decision about 
the two members new this year.  Were they suitable candidates for 
introduction to the deeper mysteries -- in particular for the 
biology professor's introduction into them?

He had stationed himself within the apparently locked tool closet 
to spy upon a recent meeting.  The two neophytes were very young, 
nearly hairless below their ears.  One had shown himself to be a 
spurter instead of a dribbler, having shot his load across the 
circle between two startled older boys.  Hawker licked his lips.  
Both doubtlessly had tight anuses.  The question was, how tight-
lipped were they at the other end of the alimentary canal?

He pushed the door open, took one step down the stairs and froze.  
He heard groans and boys' voices calling encouragement.  Someone 
was panting.  My god, were they fucking each other already 
without his permission?

But the building might not be otherwise empty.  He stuck his head 
back into the hall long enough to verify that at least no one was 
in sight, then allowed the door to close gently behind him.  He 
tiptoed down the stairs and paused at the bottom after stepping 
over the clothing folded neatly on the last step.  Why on the 
step, he wondered, instead of a sawhorse?  Had they inducted a 
reluctant new member unbeknownst to the biology teacher?

The common characteristic of the scene before him was upturned 
buttocks, though only one pair of them was moving in the expected 
manner.  One boy was sitting back against the wall, slowly 
pumping his cock.  He would have noticed the teacher had he been 
less intent upon the spectacle.  Three boys were kneeling side-
by-side, obscuring the body on the bottom before them.  From 
shoulders twitching in the same rhythm, Hawker gathered that two 
other kneelers were contributing fingers to the point of contact.  
But wait: counting fucker and wall sitter, that total was seven.  
Indeed they had inducted an eighth!

His first impulse was to charge back up the stairs and proceed 
without pause to the Canadian border.  He felt the twinge in his 
left arm and shoulder that the doctor had foretold.  He thought 
briefly of taking a nitro tablet but took a breath instead and 
reminded himself, as he had before, that these were in fact 
children blissfully unaware of how speedily the adult world would 
leap on their complaint.  He suppressed his jolt of fear, daring 
to chuckle at his own precipitous caution, straightened his 
shoulders and marched forward.

He recognized the birthmark on the buttocks cheek of Chad, one of 
the junction handlers.  Leaning down, he clutched the lad's 
extended arm near the shoulder and exerting himself, raised Chad 
to his knees.

"What's going on --" he began, but stopped with popping eyes, 
realizing that Chad's body had concealed a folded knee splayed 
out from the boy on the bottom.  But the _inside_ of a thigh was 
now exposed, meaning that its owner was lying face up!  Hawker 
stooped, verifying that the expected apparatus was indeed absent 
and that the lips flexing around the fucker's instrument, though 
hairless, were not the kind ever to be found surrounding an anus.

"My god, that's a girl!" he asserted in awe and consternation.

"She made us do it!" declared Chad, looking fearfully around at 
the astonished teacher.

"Is your name Adam?" demanded Hawker absently.

"Adam?  You know I'm Chad!"

Others had noticed the exchange.  The wall-sitter sprang to his 
feet, blushing.  The two next beside Chad rocked back on their 
heels, eyes wide on the teacher.  But the latter's attention was 
on the now-exposed head with the shoulder-length blonde hair 
bouncing on the air mattress.  Its mouth was open for panting 
breaths interspersed with soprano whimpers.  The eyes were 
clenched shut.  This was an orgasmic woman's face, he was 
confident, though in his whole life he had been privileged to see 
only one err now.

When Hawker stood up, so did all the others except the girl and 
her fucker, now perceived to be Harvey, the reader.

"Who is she?" Hawker demanded of Chad, still the closest.

The boy shook his head wildly.  "We don't know!"

"Who brought her here?"

"Nobody.  She ... just showed up and wanted to fuck."

Hawker laughed shortly.  "You expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth!"  Others joined in, reinforcing Chad's 
assertion.

"How long has this been going on?"

Chad looked puzzled.  "I don't know.  A good while.  We've all 
had two turns."

"Harvey's on his third," another contributed.

"Sounds like him."  Hawker took a deep breath.  "Does any of you 
even begin to imagine what kind of trouble she can cause?"

When they only looked at him with wide eyes, he added 
authoritatively, "Get Harvey off her, get your clothes on and bug 
out.  I'll handle the rest of it."

But when two of them grasped Harvey's arms from either side, he 
screamed, "Get the hell away!  I'm coming!"

The girl's eyes flew open.  She stared up at the naked legs 
around her and the one pair in trousers.  "Oh, shit!" she 
declared between gasps for breath.  But her eyes clenched again.  
Her arms and legs closed around Harvey's body and pulled him down 
tight upon her.  "Fuck hard!" she urged.

The would-be interventionists looked to Hawker for directions.  
He sniffed.  "Give him another half a minute.  The rest of you 
get your clothes on."

Apparently that was too much for the girl.  Her arms and legs 
fell away.  She pushed the boy to one side.  "It's no use, 
Harvey.  They've caught us."

"But I'm almost --"

"No, Harvey!  Get off me."

Panting, the boy rolled over to hip and elbow.  He stared, 
recognizing Hawker.  "She made us do it."

The teacher observed dryly, "Another descendant of Adam's!"

He studied the girl, who instinctively if pointlessly covered her 
pubes with both hands.  Streaks of semen, interspersed with the 
occasional gobbet too sticky to run off, coated her face, neck, 
chest, belly and thighs.  Hawker suppressed the expletive that 
occurred to him and instead extended his hand.  "Come on, young 
lady.  Get up."

She allowed him to assist her.  Her hand was wet, too.  The air 
mattress was slimed where her groin had lain.

"Wait here," he told her, going to the janitorial closet and 
returned with two handfuls of rags.

He caught Chad's arm, giving him one handful.  "Take these to the 
boys' washroom and soak them with warm water."

Harvey, zipping his britches, asked, "Do you want us to ... meet 
you some--"

"You come by my office when you get to school tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir."

"All of you know to keep your mouths shut about this, I hope," 
Hawker added warningly, glaring around at the sobered boys.

He had to be content with their chorus of acknowledgments.  They 
filed up the stairs, stepping carefully over the girl's clothing.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, studying the 
teacher.

"That's a good question.  You're Bobbie, ah ..."

"Smith."

"Yeah.  The new girl.  How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"Going on 25, right?"

Her eyes twinkled.  "What you can do is what matters, not how old 
you are."

"Are they right?  Did you make them do this?"

"I showed them my pussy."

He nodded.  "Good answer."

Chad came down the stairs two at the time and held out the 
dripping cloths.  "You need me for anything else?"

"No.  Not today.  And thank you."

"Okay."  He looked at the girl and shook his head.  "You're 
something special!" he told her fervently.

"You, too," she answered with a smile.  "You've got the biggest 
dick."

"Yeah!" he agreed with a grin.  Hawker opened his mouth to order 
Chad away, but the lad turned of his own accord and ran back up 
the stairs.

The man shook his head at Bobbie.  "You're a come-soaked mess."  

She craned her head to study herself and leered at him.  "They 
were full of it."

"At that age they always are."  He began to sponge her off with 
the warm cloths, drying her with the others.  "How did it get on 
your back?"

"Probably from turning my head and spitting it out."

"A twelve year old cocksucker?  Do you claim to like doing that?"

"_They_ like it!"

"Very few twelve year old girls -- boys, either -- care what boys 
like."

"_I_ care!"

"Yes, obviously.  And that's the real question: how did you learn 
to care about such things?"

She sniffed.  "Anybody can see they'll do more for me if I do 
more for them."

"Anybody!" he agreed dryly.

"I care what men like, too."

One of her hands clutched his wrist.  The other snatched and 
threw away the wash cloth presently swabbing her thighs.  She 
guided his fingers between her labia.  He stiffened at first but 
soon relaxed as his fingers probed deeper.

They stood silently, her hip pressing his lower belly.  He bent 
over her short figure, fingers working between her legs, passing 
back and forth between vagina and anus.  She endured it until she 
felt the new pressure at her hip.  Her hands found his zipper and 
shortly captured his almost painful erection.

He noted, "Not as big as Chad's, is it!"

"It's big enough," she answered stoutly.  She stooped slightly 
and took it into her mouth.

He groaned at the feel of her tongue, but clasped her chin and 
raised her head away from him.  "That's not what I want."

She studied him.  "You want my ass?"

"I am no stranger to mouth and anus," he replied, beginning to 
remove his clothing.

"That leaves my pussy."

"Exactly: your twelve year old, presumably tight little pussy."

She watched him thoughtfully.  "You knew about the boys' circle 
jerks, didn't you?"

"Why makes you say that?"

"Because you didn't raise hell with them.  You've fucked them, 
haven't you?"

"Do you find something wrong with that?"

She smiled.  "Why are so many grown-ups against fucking?"

"It scares them.  If I let myself think about it, what I'm about 
to do to you would scare the hell out of me, too."

"Why is that, Mr. Hawker?"

"Because you're so young."

"Do you think I'd tell on you?"  Her voice was incredulous.

"Why not?"

"Because then you couldn't do it again."

He laughed.  "I can't believe this!  Hell, you know all about it, 
don't you, Bobbie?  Are you sure you're only twelve?"

"I'm twelve."

"Not a twenty year old midget?"

She giggled.  "They were reading about fucking a midget woman."

"That's what I'm going to do, Bobbie."

"What is?"

"Make you my midget woman.  I'm going to sit down next to the 
wall, and you're going to sit facing me on my dick, and I'm going 
to hold your hips and bounce you up and down like a rubber doll 
that was made for fucking.  What do you say to that?"

She grinned slowly.  "I'm not a rubber doll, but I was sure made 
for fucking."


* * *


Tom sat at the cluttered table with a snug bathrobe covering his 
morning nakedness.  He ate quickly to prevent the corn flakes 
becoming mushy but mainly because he was eager to jack off.  He 
had awakened with the image of a beautiful woman's body in the 
forefront of consciousness.  He didn't know her, but he knew 
where he'd seen her.  A series of her photographs was secluded in 
a carefully misnamed folder on his computer, a folder he was 
ashamed to possess.  Those images were not grossly pornographic 
but their effect upon his imagination excited him more than 
hardcore.  He would use Vaseline and make the session last 
perhaps a half hour.

Outside the wind screamed and snow swirled against his window.  
He wondered why he remained in this wretched basement apartment, 
plodding through the writing of a dissertation that would be read 
once by three people and then consigned to a shelf.  He 
questioned not for the first time the choice he had made four 
years earlier to earn a Ph.D.  He was lonely.  He wanted a woman 
to love.  The memory of Jenny in his bed a few nights before 
raised a curious anger in him, anger at himself.  He was tempted 
to give it all up, to move to some place warm and find a woman 
who would make him happy.  But of course he would do none of 
that, hence the anger.

He heard a rapping on his door and feared it was once again 
Bobbie, that depraved, indecent little girl who deliberately 
threatened the fundamentals of his moral principles with her 
overtures of sex.  He rose to his feet determined to shoo her 
away one more time.  He would rather masturbate than fuck a 
sexually deranged child, no matter how eager.

"Hi, Tom," Jenny said sweetly, when he opened the door.

Tom gaped at the woman who was clad in a nurse's uniform, all 
white, even her hose, lacking only the cap.

"Aren't you late for work?" he asked stupidly.

"I called in sick," she smiled.

"Are you ill?  Can I help you somehow?"

"No, no, Tommy.  I'm just faking it today.  Haven't you ever done 
that?"

He just stared at her, at the bulge of her blouse.  He had never 
seen her titties in the light.

"But you can certainly help me," she added with some amusement.  
"Won't you let me in?"

"Yes, of c-course, I'm sorry," he stammered and jerked aside for 
her to enter.  "I'd rather you came in more than ... well, more 
than anything."

She chuckled as he closed the door behind her and turned to her 
with the air of a puppy expecting a bone.  She raised a cool palm 
gently to his cheek.  "Tommy," she asked softly, "do you think 
you could take a day off to comfort me?"

Suddenly he was elated.  She wanted him a second time!  He had 
never had the same girl twice, except for Fat Betty.  He stared 
dumbly at her, his tongue momentarily paralyzed.

"You're such a shy boy, Tommy, so much like my brother," Jenny 
whispered as she undid his robe, pushing it off his shoulders.

He squeaked and pulled the attractive woman to his naked body.  
"I love you," he gasped.

"I'm so glad, Tommy."  She stroked his head.  "We'll love each 
other this morning and into the afternoon.  I need a young love 
today."

He tried to help her shed the uniform but of course only 
succeeded in interfering.  His eagerness and obvious pleasure in 
the intimate touch prompted her to indulge him.

"We have all day, darling," she cooed into his ear, feeling his 
hard cock poke at her belly.

"It's chilly," he remarked with a shiver.

"Let's get under the covers."

They pushed their bodies warmly together beneath the thick quilt.  
Jenny purposely enfolded Tom's erection and slowly masturbated 
him.

"You're too excited, darling," she noted.  "I want you to last 
when you get atop me."

Her expert hand pumped him closer and closer to release as she 
kissed his lips.  Their tongues touched when his body jolted and 
he spewed in great pleasure.

"I think we're going to make a real mess of this bed today, 
sweetheart," she giggled.

"I wish you weren't married," Tom complained wistfully, his hand 
full of tit.

"Why is that, Tommy?  Do you have moral scruples about fucking a 
married woman.?"

"No," he responded quietly.  "I'd like to marry you."

"Tommy!  You're talking like a horny graduate student.  Let's 
just enjoy today.  It has many hours left in it."

"I suppose," he sighed, knowing the truth of her words.

He ducked his head under the quilt to suckle a soft tit.

"Ah, baby," Jenny groaned and held his head to her breast.

She enjoyed his mouth on her while waiting impatiently for him to 
become hard again.

"Do you need me to suck on you, darling?  I want you so much."

"I hope you will suck me later," Tom replied, moving atop the 
woman, between her spread legs.  "But just now I want you in my 
arms more than anything."

After a false start he found the hole and sank himself into her 
completely.

"Oh, glory!" Jenny exclaimed and raised her knees high to push 
back at her lover.

They kissed passionately as they fucked, Jenny almost out of 
control, Tom with an icy determination.  He pounded his cock into 
the gasping woman, measuring her response, wanting to bring her 
to utter wildness, knowing that thanks to her foresight, he could 
last.

"Oh, god!" she wailed and scratched his shoulders.  Her body 
quivered beneath him and she uttered a screech.  There was more 
to come, he knew and pumped her relentlessly.

"Oh, Tommy, oh god, Tommy," she yelled loudly, and her body went 
absolutely rigid, her thighs squeezing his body.

She was not yet done, he knew instinctively.  He continued to 
fuck her violently.  She screamed into his mouth for long 
seconds, then suddenly became limp beneath him.

He felt a great satisfaction at his accomplishment and slowed his 
thrusting to relish the feel of her warm tightness around his 
cock.  With small kisses to her sweaty, dazed face he brought 
himself to a momentous, shuddering pleasure.  He remained atop 
her for a few moments, supported by his elbows, his cock wilting 
within her.  He felt proud at that moment.  He had done a good 
job.


* * *


"Paul's so moody lately," Jenny complained as she played with 
Tom's right nipple.

They snuggled together, enjoying the warmth of each other's body.  
Womanlike, Jenny needed to tell someone about the incredible turn 
her life had taken, about the old men she serviced almost every 
day.  She didn't dare to mention them, which left only Paul.

"I can't imagine being moody with you," he responded, 
affectionately placing his lips over her nose.  "How could any 
healthy man not want you?"

"You're still young, Tommy.  You haven't been worn away," Jenny 
said, holding his flaccid cock in her hand.

"If I'm to experience wear and tear, I'd rather you do it," he 
said with a kiss to her cheek.

"It's a lovely thought, darling, but I'm too old for you, except 
for today.  I'm being selfish, you know, robbing the cradle like 
this."

"Robbing the cradle!" he exploded with amusement.  "I was a 
soldier in a war."

"You're just a young boy, you know, despite your soldiering.  I 
bet you never went with a whore."

Tom remained silent.  It was the truth.

"You're just a baby to me, Tommy, a delightful baby."

"And yet we fuck.  Do you prefer to fuck babies, Jenny?  Bobbie 
is a little baby to me.  Should I let her have her way?"

"Stop it!" Jenny shouted and leaned up on an elbow, her face 
screwed up in anger.  "Don't you ever touch that sick little 
girl!"

"I would never do that, you know," he said softly, seeking to 
calm the woman.  "But don't refer to me as a baby.  I'm a grown 
man, although younger than you."

"I'm sorry, darling," she murmured and kissed his left eye.  "It 
was just an endearment...  Speaking of Bobbie, she's beginning to 
worry me even more."

"What's she done now?"

"You're here just about all the time, aren't you?  Have you 
noticed when she gets home from school?"

He hesitated, then admitted that he had noticed.  "About three 
thirty, usually."

"That's what I thought.  But I got home early yesterday, about 
five, and she came in with her book bag at six thirty.  She said 
she'd been at school, studying, but she reeked of sex.  And I 
know the school locks up at five.  I'm afraid she'll get 
seriously hurt."

He grunted.  "Maybe so, but I doubt it'll be a sexual hurt."

Again Jenny couldn't tell him what she really feared: that the 
heedless child would come to the attention of city authorities, 
with direct consequences for Paul and herself.  She said only, "I 
suppose not, if men would stick only their dicks into girls."

They cuddled, his hands roaming over her body, lingering in the 
usual places, where male touch had become so common to her as to 
be noticeable only when she concentrated.  Except in one spot, 
into which a roaming finger probed briefly.

"Tommy?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you have, you know, some lubrication?"

"For what?  You're juicy enough."

Jenny hesitated and finally whispered, "I want you to do me in 
the behind.  I want to give you my only virgin part."

"But that would hurt you!"

"I want to feel it at least once, Tommy.  I want to be very 
special with you."

She was lying, of course.  She had already let Paul fuck her in 
the ass, which she had managed to enjoy overall because of his 
concurrent attention to her clitoris, and several cocks had 
penetrated her the next day before the porno cameras.  But now 
she wanted this young man, so like her dead brother, to feel 
special about her -- despite the likely discomfort.

"It would be selfish of me," he protested.  "I would get pleasure 
while you were getting hurt."

"Tommy!" she scowled in exasperation, "you should be more 
forceful.  Take what I'm offering you."

He hesitated but finally leaned across the bed to retrieve a 
well-used jar of Vaseline from the drawer of the night stand.  
Jenny turned onto her stomach and spread her legs slightly in 
invitation.

"You're a beautiful sight from behind, Jenny," he murmured as he 
smeared his cock with the grease.

He fondled a soft thigh for a moment and then pushed her legs 
further apart.  He climbed between them and searched for her hole 
with the tip of his cock.  Finding it, he pushed into her ever so 
gently, but her twitch signaled her pain.

"Are you all right?" he asked, ready to pull out.

"Put it in, darling," she choked in response, "all the way."

He did so very slowly.  At last he pressed his lower belly 
against her buttocks, thighs touching hers, chest upon her back.  
All of her was soft against his body and his cock was encased in 
a warm snugness.

"It feels exquisite, Jenny, but I won't come soon."

"Leave it in a while longer, dearest."  She sighed.  "It doesn't 
hurt any more."

He pumped a few slow, short strokes as he nuzzled his face to her 
fragrant hair.  Then, after two long thrusts, he withdrew and 
rolled off her body.  "I thank you, honey," he murmured, hand on 
her shoulder, "but I could tell it was hurting you."

Jenny turned over and smiled at him.  "You're too considerate, 
Tommy.  You'd probably get laid more often if you weren't so 
sweet."

"With you I can only be sweet," he said and pulled her to him for 
a lingering kiss.

"Let's take a shower together, darling.  I want to wash you and 
then swallow the seed of such a sweet man."

As she caressed him in the shower, he asked, "Are you mad with me 
for pulling out?"

"It _is_ a form of rejection," she admitted though smiling into 
his eyes, "especially when a man pulls out of his woman for her 
own good."

"Oh, Jenny, I'm so sorry!  I would do anything to --"

"Hush!" she admonished, a finger on his lips.  "You'll put back 
into me in a moment, and I guarantee it won't hurt either of us."


* * *


Jenny left Tom's apartment at four in the afternoon.  Their 
numerous couplings had been interspersed with naps in each 
other's arms.  His love for her was profound, but, indeed, 
hopeless, because he knew he could never have her for his own.  
She felt somewhat guilty at using the lovely boy, but she went 
upstairs feeling a sense of pureness about herself that had too 
long been absent from her life.




NEXT:  Chapter 17: New Friendships
Varangian:  ludmax11@hotmail.com
Kellis:     kellis@dhp.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+


  index