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Message-ID: <43998asstr$1061284203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Frank Downey" <fabfour.fan@verizon.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 18 Aug 2003 21:37:00 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} Crucifix, by Frank Downey (mf rom first flash 449 words)
Date: Tue, 19 Aug 2003 05:10:03 -0400
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

If you're under the legal age for smut in your community, begone. If such
things offend you, begone.

Copyright 2003 Frank Downey. All Rights Reserved.

CRUCIFIX
by Frank Downey
fabfour.fan@verizon.net

Should I remove it? That was the dilemma.

I had been told my whole life that what I was about to do was wrong. Stern,
lecturing men in black robes with white collars had told me, cobbling quotes
together haphazardly from an ancient book to justify it. Old women in
habits, throughout grade school, had told me,  rapping my knuckles with
rulers to emphasize it. Mom and Dad had told me--though, lately, I think
they'd given up. Leaving me alone for the weekend, I'm sure they had a guess
what was going to happen. They muttered disapproval and turned a blind eye.

I'm not sure when I stopped believing it. Maybe it was when my body's
signals became recognizable, and undeniable. Maybe it was the first time
Garret touched my breast, and the world didn't end--on the contrary, it
began. I don't know.

Now, it was four days after my seventeenth birthday.  Garret and I started
dating at fourteen. Don't give me puppy love. Don't give me infatuation.
Almost three years--do  you realize the differences between fourteen and
seventeen? And we'd gone through them together, and only gotten stronger.
Young? Yes. But we'd already lasted longer than my Aunt Sally's first
marriage.

I loved Garret, completely, and he me. It was time. We'd done everything but.
I was protected to the hilt. Coerced? Please. Garret had stopped me. "Not in
the back of the car, not our first time." I'd heard that more than once.

We both hoped we'd marry someday. But we were young. Who knows? In any case,
that was in the future. Marrying at seventeen was impractical. But why
should I be forced to apply practicalities to love, to sex? It was time. I
was ready. No cars, just my familiar, comfortable bed.

I  had no doubts. Except--should I remove it?

Then, he was here. With me. In my bed. Finally. Those men in black had
talked about the glory of God. The closest I've ever come to seeing it was
when I climaxed with Garret inside me. Twice.

In the end, I was curled up with my sweetheart, my surest confidant, my best
friend--my lover. His arms enveloped me. I felt euphoric.

It was still there, hanging from its gold chain, nestled in the crevasse
between the naked swells of my breasts.

Because I believe in love, in truth, in beauty. All those things were in my
bed beside me. And any God that expects my allegiance had better understand
that.

I believe He does. The rest is just narrow men with their picky, petty
details. The truth was in my arms. And the witness was around my neck.


--the end--

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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