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From: El Sol <munster@eden.rutgers.edu>
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Subject: {ASSM} "The Wolf Summers" By Elsol (Chap. 2/10) (Mdom, Incest)
Date: Sun, 27 Jul 2003 20:10:04 -0400
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Author's note for Email: I do not read this email address contact me at
munster (at) remus (dot) rutgers (dot) edu.

<1st attachment, "summer2.txt" begin>

			The Wolf Summers
				ElSol

---- 
Chapter 2: The Itch
	   The beginning of a large story. 
----


	I did not know until later in life how oblivious I was while
growing up. The only people I connected with were Marisa, Rachel, and the
twins. My stepfather was an abusive asshole and my mother stayed married
to him. If it had not been for martial arts and swimming, I would have
gone from school to home and back to school until I left for college.
	The fact that everybody and I were quite happy ignoring each other
left me without some basic knowledge of the changes to come after I turned
twelve. I understood that boys and girls were different, but how exactly
was a mystery that I had no interest in.
	That changed when I discovered 'The Itch'.
	My family lived in a three bedroom apartment. My mother and
stepfather used the master bedroom. My sister Marisa was in the bedroom
next to theirs. My bedroom was on the opposite side of the living room
down a small hallway. My room's isolation served me and my sister when we
wanted to get away from the fighting.
	The night I discovered 'The Itch' my mother and stepfather started
a louder than normal argument. My little sister ran into her room to get
away from them. I got my night clothes ready and started a shower. I
enjoyed standing in the shower with hot water pouring on me. It was an
escape from the yelling in the apartment. I finished washing and was
enjoying the heat when my penis got hard. I was not aware of my penis as
THE male member at the time. It was the part of my body that I peed from.
I usually got hard in the shower, but this time there was something else
in the hardening.
	Not only did I get harder then I ever remembered being, but there
was a pulse of heaviness in my penis. I stood with the hot water pouring
over my back and let myself pulse confused at what to do about it.
	The shower curtain was flung aside and I jumped back. My hands on 
the wall behind me was the only thing that prevented me from falling. 
	My stepfather, drunk, yelled at me "Aren't you done yet.. you've
been in here for a half hour?"
	I looked at him confused.
	He looked down at my crotch which because of my position was
pushed towards him. He seemed to get angrier.
	 "Why are you hard?" he said in a tight voice.
	I did not know what to say. I had been startled while trying to
deal with the confusion of new feeling flooding my body.
	My mother came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder "What
are you doing, Manny?" she said in a controlled voice. 
	She looked over her shoulder at me. She took in my confusion and
her face tightened with anger. Her eyes moved down to my crotch like my
stepfather's had. She looked at my hardon for seconds longer than he had.
She met my eyes and relaxed. She smiled at me. It was a comforting and
discomforting at the same time. Her reaction made me get harder and added
to the flood of confusion. My stepfather had turned to her by this time,
thankfully missing my reaction. She turned her face to him and gave him a
hard look.
	"Get out." she said quietly. 
	I watched him deflate. There had been confrontations over the
children before. He never won any. Twice he had been kicked out for
physically disciplining me. My mother had not bothered to pack his things
but had thrown them out the nearest window. Those were the only times that
I ever saw her stand up to him. There had been a different type of
incident the year before involving Marisa. Some of my uncles and their
families had been visiting from our home country. We were having a family
picnic in a nearby park. Everyone had been having a good time until my
mother and my stepfather started arguing. People started to move away from
them and there were disapproving looks on my uncles' faces. Usually my
sister ran away from these confrontations, but this time she ran into it
to try to stop it. He pushed Marisa aside to continue yelling at my
mother. I moved towards them; Marisa jumped between them again yelling. He
grabbed Marisa's arm violently and raised his hand as if to slap her.  My
mother told me I grabbed a wok-like heavy frying pan from the picnic table
next to them, and hit him full in the face over Marisa's head. He let
Marisa go and fell back. I walked around Marisa and hit him again before
the first of my uncles tackled me. It took two of them to hold me down,
all the while I was yelling that if he touched her again I would kill him.
One of my uncles helped him move away from us. An aunt had grabbed Marisa
and brought her over to me. Marisa started yelling at my uncles to get off
me and helped by pushing them. When they got off me, she jumped into my
arms and we held onto each other for a long time.
	He would not test my mother's resolve when it came to me, and
Marisa led to me anyway.
	In the bathroom, my stepfather looked at my mother and then back
at me. He skulked out of the bathroom angrily slamming the door behind
him. My mother watched him leave and then turned back to me. She smiled at
me gently.
	"It's okay, baby." she said "Finish your shower and go to bed,
okay."
	I nodded. 
	She looked down at my crotch again. She stared at me. A feminine
smile touched her face before she turned to walk out of the bathroom. I
stood there even more confused at the world around me, at the world inside
me. Finally, I turned the water off and dried myself. I was still needy
but did know what to do about it and decided to ignore it.
	I put on my pajamas and a t-shirt. I walked to my bedroom, closed
the door and lay down on my bed. I tried to go to sleep but I was nearly
trembling with restlessness. Everytime I felt my dick begin to relax, the
image of my mother's smile while she looked at my crotch hardened me
again. I tossed and turned until I ended up on my stomach pressing my
crotch into the bed. Given my ignorance, it had to be instinct that made
me rub myself on the bed. Once I started though I felt the need and weight
grow, but towards a conclusion. I grabbed my pillow tightly and squeezed
my eyes shut while continuing to rub myself against the mattress. In my
mind, I could see an image of my mother staring at my hard dick and her
feminine smile. I started to rub harder as my mind made her reach towards
me.
	My mind and body fragmented from each other. I grew lightheaded as
my entire existence focused on my dick. My body shaked gently and I bit
into the pillow as pleasure exploded outward from my dick emptying me of
everything else. Seconds later, my mind rejoined my body and I gasped deep
breaths. I turned over on my back, the pressure inside me eased. I closed
my eyes and did not open them again until morning.
	
	I did not have the knowledge or experience to define what had
happened to me so I called it 'The Itch'. It became a part of my nighttime
routine. I carefully repeated the steps every night for months. The
shower, the hot water relaxation, the hardening, lying on my stomach, the
thoughts of my mother reaching for me, the rubbing, and finally 'The
Itch'.

	After the shower confrontation my mother behaved differently
around me. My mother had dominated nearly every aspect of my life, but now
if I stood my ground she allowed me to do what I wanted. I did not
consciously notice it or the knowing smiles from her for months. When the
change did register, I wondered what would happen if I pushed back instead
of just standing my ground.
	My relationship with stepfather became more actively venomous.
After the second time, he had been kicked out we had declared a silent
truce of courteously ignoring each other. The shower scene had pushed him
to the edge again and he began to be verbally abusive towards me every
chance he got. He tried to use special attention to Marisa as a weapon
against me. I did not understand why he had broken our truce, but his
attention to Marisa was something that could not affect me. She was
happier, and that made the situation as bearable as the truce had made it.
	Aspects of the nighttime routine that I had observed religiously
for months changed when I started to consider actively challenging my
mother's authority. The rubbing on the bed became slower allowing me time
to expand on the thoughts of my mother. The images changed to her touching
me, bathing me, holding the center of my pleasure. 'The Itch' changed with
these thoughts. At times, it lasted longer, other times it was more
powerful, some times more pleasurable.
	It always centered on thoughts of my mother. I do not know where
things would have gone had I continued down that fantasy path. A lot of
things that happened in our home would have probably come sooner or maybe
nothing would have changed. It does not matter because something did
derail the thoughts of my mother.

	I had been brought from our country before I turned six years old.
At the beginning of that summer, my mother signed me up for swimming
classes that the high school was running as a community summer program.
She wanted me to meet kids my age and get exposed to English.
	I met the twins, Sean and Patrick Smith, at the pool. Their family
had major money and they should not have had anything to do with a public
summer program, not to mention the twins were excellent swimmers. Their
father put them in the program to introduce them to more kids in the hope
that they would not be so 'twinish'.
	The twins were more oblivious to everything not them than I was to
everything not me. People talk about one twin finishing another's
sentence, but Sean and Patrick had identical thought streams. From the
moment I met them I treated them as one person and never resented that
they always ganged up on me when we played. We became partners in fraud
when our parents came to believe that their agendas were being met. To
some extent it was, I rapidly learned English and the twins allowed
someone else into their outer circle. To the world, the twins and I became
best friends but to us we had loyalty, protective presence and most
importantly silence. To maintain our facade, I made treks to their house
to play. They had a large mansion, lots of toys, and a pool in the back so
it was an enjoyable play environment.  When I was to begin school, I was
awarded a 'scholarship' to the same private school the twins were to
attend. School made our relationship screen an even more important device
to hide behind.
	Their father had been sick during that first summer we met, but
the summer before 'The Itch' he had died. I spent a lot more time at their
house, but more for their mother, Rachel Smith, than for the twins. The
twins were cold even towards her so I was cast in the role of comforting
presence. My mother drove me to their house everyday for months after the
twin's father died. After the daily visits were no longer necessary,
whenever I visited the twins I would spend a half hour talking to Rachel.
I guess she was my first friend, as much as a 27 year old woman can be the
friend of an 11 year old boy.

	Late in the summer of 'The Itch', Rachel Smith became the object
of most of my pubescent fantasies.
	It had been a normal visit to the twins. The half hour
conversation with Rachel was me complaining about having to go back to
school in two weeks. Rachel teased me about it. The twins came downstairs
in their swim trunks having decided it would be a relaxing pool day. We
had started to enter swimming competitions two summers after we met so our
pool time was mostly training. I thought it would be great to just play
that afternoon.
	Everything was normal; tossing a ball around, one on two water
polo, being half drowned by their tag team action, and just being kids in
a pool. After about an hour and a half Rachel came out with soft drinks
for us. I did not think anything about her being wrapped in a towel until
she said she was going to grab some sun.
	The twins and I had avoided recreational pool time because of
training and competitions. Rachel had always joined our pool play before,
but since before 'The Itch' we had not been in that situation. I was being
pushed around by the twins so I was not looking at her when she removed
the towel and laid it down on the lounge chair. 
	The full vision of Rachel Smith in a yellow bikini hit me when I
turned around. It was modest for a bikini but a very bright yellow. She
was a 5 foot 9, multishade blonde, blue eyed, fit, curvaceous goddess to
12 year old eyes at the first step of sexual maturity. How I did not
shatter the glass by dropping it as my hormones declared for
heterosexuality I will never know. Rachel swam while the twins and I were
coached but she also spent time by herself working out so her body showed
no effects of being the mother of twins. She was also blessed with high
C/D cup breasts, wonderful hips, and generously more than two handfuls of
ass.
	The meaning of woman hit my body and I was as confused as I had
been in the shower with my mother's eyes on me. My dick hardened and my
mouth would not close.  
	She was adjusting her things on the small poolside table by her
lounge. She turned back to the lounge and bent over to adjust her towel.
Her ass was mostly covered by her yellow bottom but it did not matter. My
mind listened to my body and I understood for the first time the reason I
hardened. 
	I felt the way I did because my body wanted to be IN her.
	She lay down on the lounge and grabbed her book. I knew that any
second she would turn towards me. My mind refused to allow her to see me
in my mental state or with a fierce hard-on tenting my swim trunks. I
placed the glass down on the tray she had brought out and walked into the
pool. I swam to the far side, as far away from her as I could and sat with
just my head above the water. The twins continued playing around out of
the pool. Fifteen minutes later Rachel took a quick dip in the pool to
cool off. 
	My life became her walking up the steps of the pool.
	To this day, wet is sexier.
	The twins took their play inside the pool when their mother had
hit the water. They were slowly getting closer to me. Rachel dried herself
and applied suntan lotion. The twins started talking to me; I could hear
them begin their wave of teasing that usually came before we got physical.
I could not separate their voices into words, I had to watch Rachel as she
applied lotion to her body. The twins stopped teasing me, and I could feel
them watching me. I looked at them but could not focus. I turned my head
to continue staring at their mother. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw
them turn their heads, watch her for a few seconds, and then turn back to
me.
	They turned to her again and turned back to me.
	"Oh!" they said at the same time. I could feel pressure in the
back of my eyes, my body wanted tears to flow. Some of it was embarrasment
at what they had discovered but most of it was need mixed with want
causing more frustration than I had ever felt in my life. They nodded and
swam away from me. They played noisily to ensure that their mother watched
them instead of me.
	Loyalty, protective presence and silence.
	
	Rachel went inside to get more drinks. I took the opportunity to
get out of the pool, enter the house and change. I was sitting outside
when she came out again.
	"David, are you leaving so soon?" she asked as she put the tray
down.
	"No, Mrs. Smith," I replied, "I'm just tired, right now."
	She looked at me strangely and turned to watch the twins. I had
not addressed her formally since the first time she cried because of her
husband's disease in front of me. She laughed at a spectacular splash made
by Patrick. She lay down on her stomach on the lounge. I could not look at
her directly because if she turned her head she would catch me. My eyes
flicked from the twins to her ass, to the twins, to her legs, to the
twins, to all of her for the next hour while I waited for my mother to
pick me up.
	On the drive home, I could only stare out the window blindly as
the frustration continued to burn through my body. I was stuck in the
ritual of the 'The Itch' so could not take care of myself when I got home.
I sat in front of the TV feeling the frustration burn itself down to a
simmer.
	I barely noticed dinner, and sat in front of the TV not
registering anything afterwards. Finally, the ritual time came and I ran
to my room for my sleep clothes. The shower was quick and I skipped the
hot water part. I stood in front of the bed with my pajama bottoms tented.
I looked down at myself. I knew even the pajama bottoms would be too much
after this afternoon. I reached down and pushed them down to my knees. I
looked at myself again. My dick seemed angry with frustration, it was so
hard. I lay down on my stomach. I grabbed the pillow in clenched fists.
	I knew what the vision would be.
	Rachel was bent over adjusting the lounge. I rubbed myself on the
mattress. I stepped up to her. I was not wearing swim trunks. My cock was
hard. There were strings on the side of her hips. There had not been that
afternoon, but I had seen it in a magazine and in my vision they were
there. I untied one and the bottom opened but hung on covering what I
needed. I untied the other. My humping on the bed became more frantic but
I was fighting to hold 'The Itch' back, I wanted the entirety of the
vision. The bottoms were still on her body, I pulled them off of her
exposing her to my eyes, to my cock. I had looked through a Penthouse
magazine at a convenience store while the clerk had been busy with a rush
so I knew what she would look like, how we would fit together. In my mind,
I grabbed her hips like I had seen in the magazine and pushed myself
forward and into her.
	'The Itch' arrived with a vengeance ripping through my control as
in my head Rachel and I became one body connected by dick and pussy. 'The
Itch' had never been that powerful or rich in the fullness of experience.
I felt lightheaded and prickles of sensation covered my chest. I rode the
wave up through my body, and rode it down again rubbing myself into the
mattress as shivers from the aftershock hit me.
	I fell asleep with my pajamas around my knees. 
	I woke up the next morning and the ritual shattered. I had woken
up hard and the first thing that came to my mind was the vision of me
inside of Rachel. I started pumping into the bed without waking up
completely. I kept pumping into the bed as the images of my dick entering
Rachel, being pulled out and entering her flashed through my mind.
Finally, I had my first daytime visit from 'The Itch'.
	I lay there for a few minutes before I heard the knock on my door.
My mother yelled it was time for practice. I got up from the bed and
smiled as I realized I could give myself 'The Itch' at anytime and even
the shower was unnecessary.

	Fantasies of Rachel and sometimes my mother became my new ritual.
It stopped being at night most of the time and changed to being after I
got home from martial arts training, or after I got home from playing with
the twins.
	I managed to buy some magazines from clerks who found my boldness
of outright trying to buy them when noone else was in the store amusing.
It was not the best sexual education; reading the Penthouse forum or
looking through Hustler. I read and looked through the magazines for the
small amounts of true things between the pages.
	I learned 'The Itch' was really an orgasm or cumming. I thought of
it as 'The Itch' anyway until someone else became involved in my sexual
awakening. 
	Even with the magazines though, Rachel remained the focus of my
'The Itch' dreams.

	Things changed in December when my mother's youngest sister came
to live with us. Iris was my mother's half sister, the youngest child of
my grandfather and born of an extramarital affair. The family did not know
about her until my grandmother died. Iris's mother became very ill and
Iris moved in with my grandfather. Questions were asked by my uncles and
my grandfather denied nothing. When my grandfather started the slow spiral
to his own death, Iris was passed around between the uncles' households.
The summer of 'The Itch' she had been moved in with an uncle that lived in
the US. There had been conversations as to what would be done with her,
and somehow she became my mother's responsibility.
	I believe my mother insisted Iris move in with us. 
	Iris moving in was the last nail in the coffin of my mother and my
stepfather's marriage. It would take them a year and half and my
intervention before the marriage laid down and died but looking back Iris
was the end.
	The problem was the argument of where Iris would sleep. My
stepfather thought the obvious that having Iris share a room with Marisa
was the best thing. Marisa did not agree and did so very loudly. She had
never shared a room with anyone and did not want to start. This left the
living room or my room. I had thought my room was out of the question
until my mother dictated it would be my room.
	I did not care about Iris in my room. I wanted Marisa to get what
she wanted and if it meant Iris in my room that was fine with me. The
sexual possibilities and consequences had not occurred to me. I was only
trying to make sure my baby sister got what she wanted.
	My stepfather hated the idea with a passion but my mother was
steadfast. Marisa and I sat in the livingroom as avid spectators to the
arguments. I had seen my mother go ballistic over my stepfather striking
me, but this was different. She was going to get her way. She was just not
going to relinquish the point no matter how long it took. Finally out of
frustration at my mother having become an immovable object, my stepfather
caved.
	The Saturday after the decision was made, we built bunk beds in my
room. Iris moved in that Sunday.
  	Sunday night after my shower, I realized the bunk beds made it so
she would know something was going on if I gave myself 'The Itch'. The
situation became worse on Monday afternoon when I got home from my martial
arts class and she was in my room playing.
	'The Itch' which was a part of my everyday life became something I
had very little opportunity to do. For the next six months, I had to sneak
in a quick 'The Itches' whenever I could, usually when Iris was showering.
	In time, my frustration with the situation grew.


	

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