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From: Jeff Zephyr <jeffzeph@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Angelina the Naive Nymphette (f-solo, exhib; M-solo, Mf oral) [2/3] {Jeff Zephyr} 
Date: Fri, 18 May 2001 00:10:04 -0400
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Usual disclaimer:  This story involves sexual subject matter.  If you
aren't old  enough to read this, go home!  Don't blame me if you have
problems which result  from reading further.

Copyright by Jeff Zephyr (jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2000.  Please don't
distribute  in an altered form, or with any charges for acquisition.

This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons is 
unintentional and strictly coincidental. Any real people, places, or
things  mentioned in this story do not appear with permission, and any
representations  of them should not be interpreted as being in any way
based on reality.

If reception of this work is illegal due to your age or other
repressive local  regulations, liability for downloading it is your
problem, not mine.



 Angelina, the Naive Nymphette (Part 2) (f-solo, exhib), M-solo, Mf
oral) - by Jeff Zephyr (jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2000.  All Commercial
Rights Reserved.



  Early one morning, Angelina woke to find Sister Abigail in a strange
mood.   The Doctor was there that day, too, which was unusual.  When
the girl asked what  was wrong, both assured her that everything was
fine. Angelina was sure that  they were lying, but she didn't know
what it was about.

  The Doctor examined her, as was common for her visits, even though
this wasn't  scheduled. Angelina had reported no signs of illness or
injury, which worried  her.  After finishing the exam, the Doctor gave
her some medicine, pills in a  circular package, and gave stern
instructions for Angelina to use them.

  "Take one each day, in the sequence shown on the package.  Don't
skip any  days.  Tell us immediately if you should do that."

  "What are these for, Doctor?" Angelina asked quietly.  "Is there
something  wrong with me?"

  "Why, no, Angelina.  These will help keep you healthy, especially
when you  leave this place."

  "Leave?"

  "Sister Abigail can explain about that.  I don't know when that
might happen,  and you shouldn't work yourself up about it."

  Despite the Doctor's hints, and Angelina's persistence to the point
of brief  imprisonment, Sister Abigail refused to discuss the details
of Angelina's  departure, beyond the bare fact that "Yes, you will
leave here, my girl.  Not  long now."

  Not long wasn't days, though, and after three weeks, Angelina had
almost  forgotten.  Still, Sister Abigail spent more time alone, and
allowed Angelina  far more free time than before.  Since it was still
warm, she spent most of that  time outdoors, unclothed whenever she
was away from the house.  It was in that  condition that the girl
observed a large, long, black car approach the house on  the road. 
Angelina had never covered up before when visitors came, though the 
delivery women rarely got close enough to speak with her.  Nor was she
deliberately trying to expose herself.  It was just natural for her,
part of her  playing.  Still, when the car came close, she ran off, in
order to get back to  her clothes.  Undressed, Sister Abigail would
chastise her, at the least, if she  came to the house, and Angelina
wanted to see the new visitors.

  When she arrived at the house, Angelina got a shock.  The new
visitors were  men.  Two of them, one older, but not much older than
Sister Christy, perhaps  30, and the other was a bit younger than her
friend, in his early twenties  perhaps.  The first man fit the
descriptions and pictures she'd seen more  precisely, as he wore a
suit, had short hair, and was clean-shaven, though he  wasn't much
taller than her.  The second was taller, and had hair on his face.  
She'd read the definition of the word beard, but had never seen a
picture of one  before.

  Angelina didn't know that the two men had received just as much of a
shock,  seeing her nude by the road, then running into the woods as
the car past.  The  older one was a lawyer named Mr. Smith, and though
he was briefed on the girl's  case, seeing her in person, unclad, put
a whole new perspective on the  situation, one that he didn't know how
to deal with.  The younger man, Mr.  Thomas, was torn between acting
his role as a responsible chauffeur, and letting  his feelings for the
very attractive girl show.

  Sister Abigail was out in front of the house too, and arguing with
Mr. Smith.

  She said, "I don't care what you say.  I have no plans to leave this
place.   I'm happy here.  Angelina doesn't really need me anymore, and
Letitia is in no  position to give me orders, not now.  I'm not the
right person to finish her  schooling, to teach her to be an adult
away from this place.  That's my final  word!"

  Mr. Smith looked upset at that, but said, "I'd really like it if you
could  come.  I'm not sure how to deal with the girl either."

  The men hadn't noticed Angelina come up behind them, but Sister
Abigail did.   The old woman said "Angelina, come over here!"

  The girl did that, slowly.  She wasn't sure what to think, except
that  somehow, she knew that the departure from this place had finally
come.

  Sister Abigail confirmed that, saying "I don't know if you've always
been  happy here, but I've done my best to raise you well, to keep you
innocent, yet  not unlearned.  Mr. Smith is here to take you to your
home.  I know, you may  think of this as home, and I'd love to have
you return, if you wish.  But your  Great Grandmother Letitia sent you
here, to have a chance at life free of the  problems of the world.  It
is time for you to see that world, now."

  Angelina was sad, almost crying. She didn't quite know why that
should be,  since there were times when she dreamed of leaving, if she
only knew where to  go. She asked, "I'm going to live with
Grandmother?"

  "No, child," Sister Abigail answered.  "You will live at her house,
but she is  dead now, gone to her reward.  Mr. Smith will take care of
you now, and make  sure that you are treated as your Great Grandmother
wished.  Trust them, and  remember all that you have learned here."

  Angelina was led into the house, where much to her surprise, she
found her  things packed in bags ready to travel.  The change was
sudden, but she wasn't  disposed to fight it.  Part of her was
curious, part afraid.  Mr. Smith looked  kind, but a man in person
looked so strange, compared to a woman.  Mr. Thomas  had an odd look
on his face, and seemed to be staring at her.  Angelina wasn't  sure
she liked it, but part of her felt warm, invigorated from all of the 
attention.

  The introductions were awkward at first.  Mr. Smith seemed stiff and
formal,  calling Angelina by her last name, which she barely used. 
Angelina didn't think  to ask his first name, either, not that day. 
She didn't mind calling him Mister  Smith, just as she didn't mind
always calling Sister Abigail by that name, never  omitting the title.

  "It is a new situation, an unusual one for me," Mr. Smith told
Angelina. "I  will be your guardian, according to your Great
Grandmother's will.  This wasn't  something I was expecting to deal
with, even though she was so old.  I'll try my  best to help you, and
take care of you, and do what your Grandmother wanted."

  "I never really knew her," Angelina answered.  "Can't I stay here?"

  Angelina didn't really want to stay.  But leaving was such a shock,
even with  the warning she'd had, that it seemed safer to wait.

  "I didn't really know her that well myself, Angelina," Mr. Smith
answered,  smiling.  "But Sister Abigail is getting older, and it is
time for you to learn  more of the world.  You cannot live here
forever, and there are things that you  simply will have to learn. 
Important things, and this isolated farm can't give  them to you.  I
hope you'll like your new home."

  Angelina felt that Mr. Smith was kind, a friendly man, despite the
initial  aloofness.  His smile was nice, much like Sister Christy's. 
The other man, Mr.  Thomas, had stood at the end of the room, saying
nothing, but he also seemed  interesting.  Something was melting
inside Angelina.  She didn't know what the  sensation was, or how to
describe it.  But she wanted to get away from here, to  live
elsewhere, to see other people, more people.  To be free.  She didn't
think  of it that way, not using that word. She wanted to have
friends, and Mr. Smith  looked like the first new one she'd ever had,
since Christy.

  "There will be other people there?"

  "Lots of people," Mr. Smith said, laughing.  "You may need some time
to get  used to them, but we'll be near a city, with so many people
you probably  couldn't count them."

  "I can count perfectly, Mr. Smith," Angelina said, pouting a bit. 
She was  very good at arithmetic, and was proud of that, especially as
Sister Abigail  praised her for that, unlike most of her other
studies.

  "Of course you can, girl.  What I meant was, there are many people,
thousands,  more than you could easily count."

  "Oh."  Angelina answered, then stood silent for a minute.  Then, she
moved up  to Mr. Smith and hugged him, saying "I like you, Mr. Smith. 
Can we be friends?"

  Mr. Smith sputtered a bit, trying to speak.  The sudden contact made
his  temperature rise, especially contact with her breasts, which did
not seem  secured with undergarments.  Combined with a flashing memory
of her nakedness  from his arrival, he felt a most un-guardian like
response to her touch.   Composing himself, without pushing her away,
he told her "I like you too, and am  glad that you like me.  Think of
me much as you did Sister Abigail, please."

  "I don't know if I can do that," Angelina said, her breath hitting
his face.   "You don't look much like her at all."

  Her tone was so serious, that Mr. Smith had a hard time not laughing
in  reaction.  But he held back, letting only a wide grin show his
feelings. 

  "I may not look like her, but it is my job to take care of you, help
you out,  and get you prepared for your new life.  I'm not a teacher
like her, but you'll  have other teachers to help you."

  "That will be fun!" Angelina said, smiling, her eyes bright with
excitement.

  With that, Mr. Thomas commented on the long trip ahead of them. 
Gathering  Angelina's belongings, which were not much, just a few
clothes and some personal  mementos, into the car, they soon were on
their way.

  The big car was a limousine, and Angelina and Mr. Smith sat in back,
as Mr.  Thomas drove them down the road.  Angelina had never followed
the road all the  way to its end, and her attempts had left her very
tired.  During the time on  the bumpy, unpaved paths leading away from
the farm, Angelina moved from her  place opposite Mr. Smith to sitting
next to him.  Soon, she was leaning against  him.  She liked doing
that, and was surprised when he did not suggest that she  move away,
or withdraw himself.

  On his part, he didn't know what he should do with a girl like
Angelina.  Her  isolation gave her an innocence that he had a hard
time imagining from her file,  and yet, in person, she was like no one
he'd ever met.  Her sexual  attractiveness was all unconscious,
nothing deliberate, and for that reason, it  was even harder to ignore
than a deliberate attempt at seduction.  Yet he was  responsible for
the girl, her legal guardian, and an adult too old for her.  To 
further deter action, he had a girlfriend, who certainly would not
take well  to... whatever it was he might do with this girl.

  Pushing her away, though, seemed like a horrid thing to do to her. 
His  briefing on her situation disturbed him.  Taking a girl from her
home, keeping  her isolated, in order to raise her in pure innocence,
seemed evil, despite its  purportedly good purpose.  The girl had
little contact with people.  Sister  Abigail was cold, indifferent,
never hugging the girl, barely touching her.  An  adult man could
resist letting a child, even a well-proportioned teenage girl,  arouse
him into unwanted actions, while still giving her basic human
comforts.   Or so he told himself.

  After about an hour, they finally reached a road that was smooth, if
not well  paved.  Angelina had talked little, often staring out the
windows, or at Mr.  Smith, during this time.  When she started
talking, it was like a dam breaking.   She had a million questions,
about the world, his life, other people, and  everything they were
doing.  Mr. Smith tried to answer, and soon, found himself  enjoying
his conversation with the girl.  She knew a lot, more than himself in 
some areas, including science and religion.  But much she knew only in
theory.   Television, telephones, radio -- the music playing in the
car startled her --  she knew in theory, from books, but had never
seen.  As they reached places with  other cars, she'd see other
people, and stare at them as they passed.

  When they stopped for fuel, Angelina realized that she had another
need, to  relieve herself of excess water.  Mr. Thomas had obtained
some sweet drinks and  food for them, but first, she had to deal with
the situation.  Her manner  surprised both men.

  "I need to urinate, please.  Where is the bathroom?"

  When Mr. Smith led her to it, Angelina went in, but was confused by
the  arrangements, the odd door in front of the stall, unlike at her
home.  She went  out, and insisted that Mr. Smith help her with it. 
He was reluctant, but the  girl seemed upset and really needed to go
badly, so he went in with her.  The  partition made it seem less
improper, though giving her advice, and hearing the  sound of her
water embarrassed him.

  When she came out, her first response seemed reassuring.

  "I guess it isn't that much unlike the one at home, but the pop-up
lid and  handle are different."

  But her panties were in one hand, and she was approaching the sink,
holding  her skirt up with the other.  Though Mr. Smith wasn't
positioned to view her  exposure well, the mirror showed it.  Angelina
ran water, and not finding  anything convenient to wash herself,
cupped a bit of it, and let it run off her  onto the floor.  Mr. Smith
found the paper towels, and turning to look away from  the girl, he
handed some to her, so she could dry off.

  Mr. Smith was excited by this situation, but Angelina showed no sign
of  embarrassment, nor any coyness, sexual teasing, or any sign that
this was  unusual.  He didn't think that she did that kind of thing
with Sister Abigail  around, and though he felt that he could handle
the situation, he worried that  she might run into men who'd do
otherwise.


  He knew that men would want to do things with her, especially if
they knew who  she was.  For that reason, among others, Mr. Smith
declined to reveal Angelina's  exact situation.  Instead, they
conversed about her immediate future, living  with other people,
dealing with more than just one person. She asked him if he  was
married, and when he explained "No, but I have a girlfriend," she
wondered  why he wasn't married.  That led to more questions and
answers, away from the  issue of the girl's inheritance. Angelina's
explanation of marriage amused Mr.  Smith, and though tempted to
correct her, he felt that it wasn't the appropriate  situation to
begin discussing such delicate topics.  Nor was he sure that he 
wanted to do so, with a girl who so unexpectedly had become his
responsibility.

  At another stop, Mr. Smith went off alone to take care of his
business,  leaving Angelina in the car.  Mr. Thomas got some more
drinks for them, and came  back to find the girl waiting outside, then
joining him in the front seat.  The  girl wanted to know more about
people and men, and found Mr. Thomas interesting.   He was married,
for one, and that gave her other things to ask about, such as  "What
is being married like?  Do you have children? What does a beard feel 
like?"

  Mr. Thomas, on his part, was curious about the girl, especially her
nakedness  on the visit to her farmhouse.  Since he was married, but
not yet with children,  he was willing to let the girl explore his
beard, and talk about nature and life  a bit, though he was reticent
on the exact nature of marital activities.  He did  find her charming,
and expressed his admiration for her with a number of  colloquial
terms, including "hot chick," "fox," and "sexy babe."  That last 
Angelina found funny, since she was no longer a baby, but Mr. Thomas's
explanation of how men thought of even adult women they loved as
"babes"  reassured her.

  Angelina, on the other hand, had no reluctance to discuss her
playing  activities, including touching herself to feel the "love of
god."  During the  discussion, she pointed to the places that felt
good, and asked whether Mr.  Thomas had similar feelings.  Though he
deferred, it was impossible for him to  ignore the girl's question
when she pulled her skirt up, revealing her panties,  damp in the
center, to point to her most sensitive spot, and touch it briefly.

  "Angelina, yes, men have similar feelings, and other women do too,"
Mr. Thomas  said, speaking rapidly, as if short on breath.

  "I just love touching myself, it feels so wonderful.  Is that a good
thing?"

  "Definitely!  Though you might want to take care about doing it so
openly, in  front of strangers."

  Angelina wanted to ask more, but Mr. Smith returned. At that point,
she  realized that she had another need to relieve, and thinking on
Mr. Thomas's  advice, decided to take care of it in the bathroom.  Mr.
Smith followed, but  when it became obvious that her activities were
sexual, he excused himself,  telling the girl that he'd be outside,
waiting for her.  Angelina stayed for  some time, and Mr. Smith could
hear water running and splashing, as she  apparently washed up after.

  Though Mr. Smith thought about berating the girl for her activity,
the happy  smile on her face as she came out made that difficult.  She
hadn't done anything  wrong, it was just that most girls simply
weren't so open about this.  His Marta  did such things often, though
he would have liked her to do more with him,  rather than alone.

  In the car, Mr. Smith noticed that Angelina had a sweet perfume
about her, a  natural scent whose origin he couldn't easily ignore. 
Angelina was rather quiet  now, rummaging through a bag of clothes, as
if looking for something, but not  talking.  Finding a pillow, she lay
on her side, and fell asleep.

  Mr. Smith wanted to sleep as well, since it had been a long day, and
a long  trip.  Darkness was falling outside, but there was enough
light within the car  to allow him to look at the girl, sleeping next
to him.  She rolled over,  parting her legs, revealing that her
panties were now off.  The man hesitated,  not sure what to do.  The
vision was lovely, the wet pussy slit exposed from  behind, open, a
wet virgin place ready to change. Her light, silky pubic hair  didn't
conceal, but provided an added attraction, as Mr. Smith wondered if it
was as soft as it looked. The temptation was too much, and he reached
out to  touch her.

  He forced his hands to move to the skirt, and pulled it down,
covering the  exposed loveliness.  Removing it from his eyes did not
take the vision from his  brain, nor did it disguise her sweet
fragrance.  The air conditioning could not  compete with her, for
long, and it soon became too cold to run it.  Fortunately,  he had
work -- papers to read, especially those about the girl he'd just met
and  seen so intimately.

  Angelina slept through their arrival in the city, and their passage
through  places with bright lights and many people.  Mr. Smith thought
about waking her,  but decided there would be time later for that. 
When they arrived at the house  in the countryside, Angelina awoke.

  "Welcome to your new home, Angelina!" Mr. Smith beamed.

  "Are we in a city?  Are there lots of people around?"

  "Well, we're near a city, but not in one.  There are some people
here at the  house and others not too far away.  Later, we may visit
the city.  For now, I  think we need to get you situated, and rested
for tomorrow."


  Angelina was surprised at the size of the house. Her farmhouse was
large, for  just two people, but this was bigger than the barn.  She
didn't know how many  people lived here, but it was obviously too big
for just the two of them.

  Upon entering the house, she found many faces waiting, new people to
meet.   The introductions were short, but enough to let the girl know
that her home had  many people living there, even if she didn't quite
understand the relationships  yet.

  First to greet her was Mr. Alexander, an older man with gray hair,
and a look  which suggested decorum and wisdom.  "Pleased to meet you,
young mistress.  Or  should I say miss, Mr. Smith?"

  "I think miss, or Angelina, should do fine.  What do you think,
Angelina?" Mr.  Smith asked.

  "Oh, that will be good.  Your hair is a bit like Sister Abigail's."

  "Thank you, my dear Miss Angelina.  I take care of the business of
the house,  greet guests.  If you have any questions or need help,
just call on me."

  "I'll do that," Angelina said, grabbing and hugging him in greeting.
He  seemed to take it well, looking a bit surprised, but not
unappreciative.

  Next was Mrs. White, a buxom woman of early middle age.  She
explained about  doing cooking, and feeding everyone here, among other
things, and expressed her  hope that Angelina would enjoy it here. 
The girl hugged her in welcome too.

  Miss Cassie, the maid, was about Sister Christy's age, pretty to
look at, but  very quiet, saying little in greeting but a basic
"Hello."  Angelina hugged her  close, anyway, and hoped that she might
become a friend like Christy was.

  There were absent members of the household, explained Mr. Smith. 
"Mr. Allen  does gardening, and Mrs. Thomas, the wife of the chauffeur
who drove us here,  does bookkeeping.  You'll meet them later."

  Two other people were present.  Mr. Smith hadn't introduced them,
and they  looked somewhat unhappy, Angelina thought.  A man and woman,
in their late  thirties, standing next to each other, not touching,
but watching her arrival,  and staring at her.  The woman had a
glaring expression, which frightened  Angelina, though she had no
reason to think that it was directed at her.

  Mr. Smith thought about simply dismissing them, but they were
already there,  and Angelina was moving to the couple.  The man spoke.

  "I'm Mr. Jones, George Jones.  Your cousin.  Your Great Grandmother
is my  Grandmother too.  It is nice to meet you."

  Angelina rushed up to him, and hugged him, as she had the others. "I
didn't  know I had a cousin.  That is almost like a brother."

  "I didn't know I had one, either.  Grandmother kept you a secret,
after your  parents died."  He turned to the woman next to him, and
introduced her.

  "This is my wife, Sara.  We've been staying with Grandma, up until
she died,  and then, we stuck around here, waiting to see what would
happen, especially  with you.  I'm glad you're here."

  Mr. Jones had a hard time not being glad, with the pretty, busty
blonde girl  in his arms, pressed tightly against him. His wife looked
less glad, and it was  good she didn't show her full feelings. 
Angelina was nice to look at for  certain, but she didn't need to hang
all over people, Sara thought.  But it  wasn't that which raised her
ire, but the fact that she had expected George to  be the heir, to get
everything, and the fact that this young girl got it was  hard to
take.  Her attempts to contest the will had failed, but she was too 
stubborn to simply leave with the small pittance they'd received. 
Especially  after enduring the wrath and domination of the old woman
these last few years.

  Her husband, however, liked his Grandmother Letitia, at least some
of the  time, and felt he'd been left well off by her bequest, even if
it wasn't the  same as the entire family holdings.

  Sara might have said something, but Angelina let go of her husband
and latched  on to her, pushing her body into the woman's.  "I'm so
glad to have family.  Not  that Sister Abigail wasn't nice, but I just
never had any relatives around.   I've read about them, and never knew
I had any, other than Great Grandmother.   You seem like a nice
person.  Are you two staying her with us?"

  Hearing that, Mr. Smith interjected "I believe that they were
leaving, and  going back to their home.  They've stayed here too long,
especially after your  Great Grandmother was gone."

  "Oh, can't they stay, at least for a while?  I'd like to get to know
them, to  know more people.   Can they, please?"

  Sara Jones, spotting a chance to stay close to what she wanted,
joined in the  request.  "I think it would be good for us to be
together, to get to know each  other, like family.  There is nothing
more important, not for George and me."

  Though Mr. Smith had hoped the couple would be gone by now, since
he'd  requested that, and didn't want to deal with their presence, and
the  complications it might bring for the naive girl in his care, he
couldn't find a  gracious way to refuse their request.

  It was hard to dislike Angelina.  She was happy, hugging everyone,
laughing  and smiling, seemingly overjoyed to meet every person in the
house.  George  genuinely accepted her, and enjoyed her company,
talking briefly about his  Grandmother.  Sara was polite, at first,
then seemed a bit artificial in her  attitude toward the girl.  When
Angelina decided to kiss her on the lips, during  the second round of
hugging, Mrs. Jones found her resolve melting, with new  feelings
toward the girl rising.  Her relationship with her husband had been 
difficult, and keeping the problems secret from both him, and his
Grandmother's  household, had been difficult.  Impossible, in fact,
but the old woman was wise  enough not to interfere.  Letitia never
let on that her Great Granddaughter was  alive, let alone the heir of
the family.  Sara was quite put out about that.   But the girl was not
at fault, and her sweetness was quite attractive.  There  was more
than just appearance and touch, of course, and Sara noticed the odor
of  the girl as well.  It was very enticing, especially in one so
young in age, and  with such an attractive, adult body.

  "They are my relatives, Mr. Smith," Angelina explained, when the man
tried to  convince her that they should leave, having business of
their own. "I want to  get to know them, to have a family."  There was
no easy way to argue with her,  and it was late, a long day for Mr.
Smith, and for Angelina.

  "They can stay for a short time, I guess.  For now, we should get
some sleep.   We have lots of things to discuss tomorrow."

  Mr. Smith and Mr. Alexander took Angelina to her room.  Compared to
her small  bedroom at the farmhouse, it was amazingly luxurious, with
carpeted floor, lots  of space, and its own bathroom. Her bed was
almost as big as her old room! After  getting her clothes and things
settled in a little, Mr. Smith suggested that  Angelina might want a
bath before she slept. The girl found the shower and bath  fixtures a
bit confusing, and asked Mr. Smith for help. He was worried that the 
girl would insist that he get her into the tub, and was relieved when
she seemed  to figure things out enough on her own, and let him leave.

  As he left the room, however, Angelina called him back, saying that
she had  some more questions, things she'd forgotten in the excitement
of meeting  everyone.  She wasn't in the bathroom, so Mr. Smith felt
safe going in to talk  with her.  Finding her naked, dress laid on the
side of the bed, was a shock.   Angelina didn't seem deterred by his
confusion, and went on asking about the  arrangements of things in the
house, where to get food, what they'd do tomorrow,  and other things,
as if her lack of clothing wasn't anything unusual.

  Trying to avoid looking at her body, but failing and unable to force
himself  to stop staring, Mr. Smith slowly, sometimes stammering,
answered the questions  briefly.  He tried to get away, but Angelina
had more to ask. His response  embarrassed him, though Angelina seemed
not to notice, or at least, said nothing  of it.  He thought that the
girl simply had no idea of what her body did to men,  and very soon,
he'd have to let her know that this kind of thing wasn't  acceptable. 
Perhaps Miss Cassie could help out, he thought.

  He wasn't sure, given the girl's unusual background, and beauty.  If
he, the  responsible guardian, had a hard time dealing with her,
others might do worse.

  When he finally was able to explain enough, and Angelina's
exhaustion seemed  to come forward, he bid her goodnight, and
explained "If you need anything, you  can ask for me, or Mr.
Alexander, or Miss Cassie.  We'll be around, close enough  that you
can find us."

  "The quick tour you all did was good, I think I know where the rooms
are,  anyway. I don't get lost easily."

  As Mr. Smith closed the door, and heard the water splash in the
room, he  sighed, almost with relief.  When he got to his room, he
undressed and took a  quick shower, running the water cold to reduce
the heat within.  That didn't  succeed, and he lay in his bed naked,
unusual for him, and took himself in hand.   He thought about his
girlfriend Marta, but it was late, and calling her would  only make
her upset.  The vision of Angelina was still in his mind. The time 
spent with her, talking while she stood, naked, exposed, nipples
hardening,  pussy open, was irresistible in effect.  The brief
exposures before, especially  of her wet pussy as she slept in the
car, drew him on, leading toward his  release, with eyes closed, mind
filling in what he knew couldn't become real.

  When the bed shook slightly, Mr. Smith opened his eyes.  Angelina
had entered  his room, and had been watching him for some time. 
Stopping his actions came to  his mind, but the girl was still naked,
touching herself as he did himself, and  his hand seemed to move on
his own, drawing an explosive orgasm, perhaps more  intense because he
tried to hold it back.

  Angelina hadn't said anything, just looked at him and watched his
actions,  enjoying her own to this point.  She had only the vaguest
idea of male anatomy,  but had good empirical knowledge of her own,
and knew that Mr. Smith must have  experienced something like she did.
But what was this?

  "Gosh, Mr. Smith.  What is that white stuff shooting out of your,
uh...,  thingie?"

  The man didn't answer right away, still held in the throes of his
climax.  He  didn't know how to react, though certainly his body had
reacted.  The girl was  obviously still curious, but she was also
aroused sexually.  That was hard to  resist, and there was no simple
way to send her off, and not deal with this  somehow.  In his haste
and confusion, he had sprayed over his body, with much of  the fluid
falling on his genitals, rather than being caught for disposal.  That 
would need to get cleaned up.  A stray thought hit, the kind of thing
he knew  wasn't safe, but the girl seemed so willing, so interested,
that...

  "Did you feel "the love of God" when you did that?  I did, when I
was watching  you, but even though I ooze wet a bit, it doesn't shoot
out like that, and isn't  all white.  Is it the same for men as for
women?  Do other women do it the same  way?"  Angelina asked rapidly,
after waiting and watching Mr. Smith for a few  seconds.

  "Uh, 'the love of God', you called it?  I guess that is a nice name
for it,  other words are orgasm, coming, uh..."

  Angelina had leaned over, running her fingers through the white
fluid,  touching the man's now softening cock in the process.  She
seemed fascinated by  it, as if she'd never seen one before.  Mr.
Smith realized that she truly  hadn't, and yet, despite her innocence,
or maybe because of it, she had no  inhibitions about it at all.

  Mr. Smith went on, wanting to help explain things to the girl, and
hoping that  somehow, he could convince her to keep this situation
quiet, not talk about it  to anyone.  "The white stuff is called
sperm, or semen.  Men make it when they  come.  Girls don't, but I
think that the feeling is about the same for both of  us."

  "It seems a bit messy.  My bed gets wet sometimes, but this seems
worse."

  "I usually try to catch it.  Or have a nice girl around, who'll lick
it all  up."

  "Isn't that..." Angelina trailed off, as she put her wetted finger
into her  mouth.  "I thought it would taste yucky.  But I guess it is
OK.  I've tasted my  oozes, off my finger."  Then, to Mr. Smith's
surprise, the girl leaned over, and  started licking up the fluid,
getting the little splashes on his chest and  belly, licking his
fingers, and finally, his cock and scrotum.

  He thought seriously about telling her to stop.  But despite her
lack of  practice, and the fact that she was merely licking, not
sucking or trying to  arouse with her touches, the sensations were
intensely pleasurable, gentle, not  clumsy.  That the girl seemed to
enjoy the process, making humming noises like a  child enjoying candy,
increased the effect.  Angelina slowed down her contact  when she
noticed Mr. Smith's organ increase in size again, becoming stiff, and 
she decided to ask about that.

  Mr. Smith was happy for the break, giving him time to think about
the  situation.  Though he was tired, his sexual response invigorated
him.  He  couldn't let the girl go without doing something about this
situation.  Continuing it to the next stage, which his body certainly
seemed to want, didn't  seem wise, and any distraction from that
helped.

  An impromptu anatomy lesson followed, mixed in with a bit of
admonition not to  tell others, not yet anyway, about the discussion. 
Angelina was surprised to  discover that all the parts had such
interesting names, and many had more than  one.  For example, her
"flowers" were labia, the stem was a clitoris (and God  must love that
spot a lot, for how it felt when touched), her opening a vagina.   But
men often called it pussy, or cunt, or other words, and she found it
all  fascinating.  That the man's organ grew so large and hard, was
interesting, but  the fact that it took time to harden again was a bit
disappointing, especially  when Mr. Smith lied, and said that he
couldn't show her again how it worked.

  Angelina was quite wet herself, and ready to go sexually.  Mr.
Smith, letting  his desire and empathy for the girl overcome his
resistance, decided to "clean"  her up, saying that nice men did that
for girls, too. When his tongue touched  her "flowers", she sighed,
but when it reached the hard "stem," she cried out.

  "Oh, God, gosh, Mr. Smith... I never imagined that it could feel
like that."

  Mr. Smith continued, inspired by her enthusiastic response.  His
Marta enjoyed  this activity, when he could talk her into accepting
it, but she mostly lay  quietly, letting him do it without much
response, as though it wasn't worth  talking about.  Angelina's
writhing and moaning left no doubt that the girl  enjoyed the contact,
and wanted more.  After some time, lapping her wetness up  each time
it ran out, he slowed his pace, and kissed her lightly on her labia, 
licking around them, and between them, catching all her wetness with
his tongue.

  Then, he sent her off to bed, promising that he'd explain more in
the morning.   She thanked him for the fine lesson, and hoped that
there was more.  Before she  left, she had one more question to ask.

  "Is it OK if I am naked around the house?  I was able to do that a
lot at the  farmhouse, and wouldn't want to stop. It helps make my
skin nice and tan."

  "Sure, I guess.  We'll talk more, tomorrow," Mr. Smith answered,
hastily, not  thinking about the implications.  His hard cock tempted
him to do more with the  girl, and he had seen that she was certainly
still a virgin.  He wanted time to  think, to release the pent-up
pressure, without risking that he'd ruin the  situation with the girl.
Making love to your ward was definitely not something  that the courts
would look kindly on, no matter how much her actions were in  favor of
it.

  Before she left, he decided to add one more thing. "You can call me
Robert, or  Bobby, not just Mr. Smith."

  "I like calling you Mr. Smith.  It is like with Sister Abigail, she
was in  charge of me, and that's just what I called her."

 "Don't talk to anyone else about this, what happened tonight.  Not
until we  have a chance to talk about it tomorrow.  OK?"

  "Sure, no problem.  Gosh, this was a good idea coming here."

  He watched her leave, still naked, and held his cock in his hand. 
It didn't  take long to relieve the need he felt.  That night, he
dreamed of Angelina.   Visions of her naked filled his night, making
love with her, and strangely for  him, Marta joining in
enthusiastically.

  Angelina, back in her room, enjoyed the "love of God" again, calling
it an  orgasm for the first time ever, saying its name each time one
arrived, over and  over, taking hours to fall asleep.  Her dreams were
filled with the naked form  of Mr. Smith, Sister Christy, The Doctor,
Mr. Thomas -- and every other person  she'd met or seen that day, all
touching her naked self, licking her "flower,"  and finally, coming
home to her farmhouse to get naked and play together.

  When she woke up, the heat between her legs tempted her to play by
herself.   But this time, she had someone new to play with.  She hoped
that Mr. Smith was  awake, but if he wasn't, she had an idea of how to
wake him up.  The house was  still dark, and as before, she left her
room naked, padding down the hall, to  discover new things in her new
home.

  The end ;-) for now.


Copyright by Jeff Zephyr (jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2000.  Please don't
distribute  in an altered form, with removal of any part of the story
or author credit and  copyright info.  Do not distribute it, or place
it on a website, CDROM, or other  location or publication, with any
charges for acquisition, either to access the  site or archive, or any
other charges specifically for the story, without  permission.

If you liked this story, want to put it in a free collection, want to
tell me  how I could write better, or just would like to say hello,
write to me at my  email address shown above.

You can find more of my stories and other things at my website:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/jeffzephyr/www/

or via FTP:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/jeffzephyr/


 

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