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Message-ID: <57741asstr$1213459803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Richard Short <shattims@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Quest for Paradise {Richard Short} (MF,mF cheat 1st)
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Date: Sat, 14 Jun 2008 12:10:03 -0400
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                          Quest for Paradise
                             by SHATTIMS
                          shattims@yahoo.com

The first two years were fantastic! My knight in shining armor had come
to rescue me; no more weeks of slogging through the swamps of despair,
no more of the cyclic ennui I had felt since I started high school.

Ron and I fell in love during the summer of 1959. He was twenty-one, I
was nearly twenty-one, and we were both deeply religious, puritanical,
really. We were also both still virgins, brought up to believe that sex
was for marriage, and not before. Our passions that summer would have
none of that nonsense, and the passions prevailed. Once that barrier
was broken there was no stopping us.

We both knew I would have to join Ron at his college that fall. I could
talk my father into anything when I was on top of the world, and I told
him I just had to go to Ron's school. My father, who could be very
persuasive, went straight to the university president. I got enrolled
there.

Ron and I were both staying in college dorms -- and there were no co-ed
dorms or co-ed visits in those days. We snuck off whenever possible for
a little privacy, and we were not too choosy about that. A dark corner
behind the gym, a bush in a nearby park, the back seat in a borrowed
car. Nighttime or daytime, it mattered not. We both lived for the sex;
we needed our fix, at least once a day; two or three times if we could
manage it.

By the end of November we could no longer bear living apart, and for us
that meant we had to get married. We each broke the news to our parents
at Christmas. I think mine breathed a sigh of relief to have their
moody daughter off their hands. Ron's parents were shocked, but decided
he was old enough to make up his own mind. His mind was indeed firmly
made up, and we were married at the semester break.

It was unbelievable! A room with a bed of our own! It wasn't much of a
place really. We were in an old house that had been broken up into
apartments, of a sort. We had a bedroom with a kitchenette that had
originally been a large walk-in closet. The rather cramped bedroom
contained a dresser, a wardrobe, a small table and two chairs, in
addition to the double bed, leaving hardly any room to walk around. The
bathroom was down the hall, shared with another apartment.

We couldn't have cared less. I think we must have made love about four
times a day all spring. I was madly in love, and ecstatically happy.
The next year, Ron's senior year, we may have eased up a bit, more like
two or three times a day, but it was still fantastic. I was still
deliriously happy. Ron gave me all the love and all the sex I could
dream of.

Well ... except for one time. Wait, that sounds like he held something
back once. He didn't, not ever. But I did hold something back from him.
I had one secret day, a day I never told him about.

Ron and I were always short of money, and always looking for ways to
bring in a little extra. Ron worked twenty hours a week at the college
library, and saw a notice there one day, a year after we were married.
A blind student needed someone to read to him, for a calculus class. I
couldn't do that - I had no idea what all those squiggly lines meant or
how to say them out loud - but Ron sure could, because he was majoring
in math. So Ron started reading for Tom, and tutoring him, too.

Tom wasn't totally blind; he could tell light from dark. He hadn't been
blind at all when he first went to college, in fact he was a football
player and joined a fraternity. But he had a terrible accident that
involved some acid or something. It seared his eyes and scarred his
face. It was hard to look at his face. That would have been awkward
when you talked to him, except that he couldn't tell where you were
looking, so it wasn't too bad. Personally, I liked to look at his broad
shoulders, strong arms, and powerful chest.

OK, I'll admit it. When he and Ron were poring over Tom's calculus book
I sometimes looked at the rest of his body, too, especially his thighs
and ... other things. I had quite a few chances to do that, because Tom
often came to our place to work with Ron. He had an incredible ability
to get around despite his handicap. We were several blocks from campus,
but Tom insisted he didn't mind, and needed the exercise. By the second
day he was in our little room he could thread his way over to our
kitchenette without using his cane or bumping into anything. The guy
was amazing.

One Saturday Ron had left for a four-hour shift at the library, and I
was doing some studying at home. After a while I started getting horny,
and I slipped my hand up inside my skirt to rub my panties. Pretty soon
I realized that I had read the same sentence several times, and I had
no idea what it was saying. What I needed was to lie on the bed, pull
up my skirt, push my panties down, and ... OH YEAH!

About then I heard a knock on the door, and you have already guessed
who it was. I knew too, because Tom always used a special knock. I
jerked my panties up, rolled off the bed, and went to let him in.

"Tom, we weren't expecting you, but come in."

"Oh, hi, Jan, you mean Ron forgot?" He tried to look around the room.
"Shame on you Ron, wherever you are."

I realized that Tom and Ron must have mixed signals on their scheduled
meeting time together. I knew I should tell him where Ron was, and send
him back to campus, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to do that. I
hated to think he had made the trip all the way for nothing. At least
that's what I tried to tell myself.

"Ron's not here right now, but please come on in anyway. Maybe I can
try to help you."

"What you mean, is," Tom grinned, "that you've heard Ron say 'e high x'
and 'y sub a1' so many times that you figure you've learned it by
osmosis, right?"

"Well," I laughed, "those phrases do sound pretty familiar, but that
doesn't mean I'd know when to say them if I was looking at your book."

"Actually," I added somewhat hesitantly, "that wasn't the sort of help
I was thinking of. Surely your whole life isn't just math equations."

"Thanks, but I think I've got my other classes pretty well covered."

"Oh, but surely your whole life isn't just classes."

I don't know what prompted me to be so bold. I guess the fact that I
was still feeling horny, and maybe that I have a little tendency to get
giddy and start teasing when I'm feeling really high. I'd been on a
high for a year and a half, longer than ever before in my life.

Tom sighed. "No, basically, my whole life is just classes. Being ...
like I am means it takes more time to learn stuff, and I don't have any
time left over for other things."

"But you need to make time," I gushed. "Everybody needs time for other
things. You need time to just relax, and have fun. You need time to
spend with girls; you need ... emotional outlets. Don't you have a
girlfriend?"

"No," he said almost bitterly, "who would want to have a boyfriend that
looks like me? Who would want to have a boyfriend that couldn't ever
compliment her on how she looks?"

"Looks are nice, but that isn't the only thing that matters. You could
compliment her on how she feels when you touch her. Wouldn't it be even
nicer to touch her than to look at her?"

"Yeah, but you forgot the first part. You don't get to touch a girl
until after she really likes you a lot."

"I really like you a lot," I said, knowing I was getting into dangerous
territory, but not caring. "And I'll bet lots of girls would like you
when they got to know you. They'd like to look at you, too. You're
really quite a hunk, you know."

"Oh, yeah? Look me in the face, look me in the eyes, and see if you can
say that. I know I look disgusting, and there's no point in lying about
it."

"Tom, put your hands on my cheeks. Here, like this, so you can see
where my face is looking. Oh, yeah! That feels so nice."

"Listen, Tom," I went on, "girls like to be touched. I like to be
touched. I like having you touch me. But right now, I was trying to
make a point. You know where I'm looking, right? You know because you
can feel me looking straight at your face. So now I'm going to confess
something. Are you ready for this?"

I paused for effect, then went on, "I think you are one of the most
exciting men I have ever met. Not only are you smart, and upbeat, with
a great personality, but you also have broad shoulders, strong arms and
a chest that any woman would love to press against. You, Tom, are just
plain sexy."

"Don't do this to me," he moaned, "you're driving me crazy."

"That makes two of us, Tom. You drive me crazy sometimes. Like right
now, for example."

"Oh, God, Jan, if you weren't married ..."

I had cheated a little bit when I had Tom hold my cheeks. Yes, my face
was right in front of his, but I wasn't looking at him, because I had
my eyes closed. I was seeing him - all of him - in my mind's eye. And
it really was driving me crazy.

"Shhh, Tom, don't say anything. Just enjoy the moment. Just enjoy
this." I leaned forward and felt my lips touch his. I just brushed them
gently and pulled away again.

"Oh, GOD!" he moaned, "It's been so long! You have to stop! You can't
do that! I can't stand it!"

"It's what you need, Tom, and now I've realized something else. I care
very much about you, like a friend cares. And as a friend I want to
give you what you need. I don't care about what the world thinks is
right or wrong. I just know that this is right for us right now."

I leaned forward again and pressed my lips against his. The sensation
was electric, and I moaned as our lips molded themselves into each
other.

"No, Jan," he pushed me away with his hands still on my cheeks. "We
can't do this! What if Ron walks in and sees us like this?"

"He won't. He's working at the library, and won't be home for hours."

"You don't understand, Jan. If we kiss any more like that I'm going to
make a mess in my pants."

It was like a blinding flash. Suddenly I knew what I could do for Tom;
what I WOULD do for Tom; what I NEEDED to do for Tom. Now I just had to
convince him.

"OK, I won't kiss you any more like that. But I do want to do something
else. We were just talking about how you could compliment a girl based
on what you feel if you could touch her."

"But then I explained how that would never happen," he argued.

"And then I proved to you that I like you more than enough to let you
touch me. So touch me, please."

"No, Jan, this is so wrong!"

"It isn't wrong, Tom. Think about it. If you could see me it wouldn't
be wrong for you to look at me. People look at each other all the time.
I look at you. Guys look at me. There's nothing wrong in that.

"You can't look at the world with your eyes, but you use the feel of
your cane in your hand to help you find your way around. You read
Braille with your fingers. You have to use your fingers to replace your
eyes. So it isn't wrong for you to look at me the only way you can look
at me, with your fingers. Don't you want to know what I look like?"

The poor guy just stood there shivering. I could tell his emotions were
tearing him apart.

"Move your hands all over my face, Tom."

Hesitantly, he started to do just that.

"Oh, Jan, I can tell you must be very pretty. Oh, I thought you might
have a little pug nose, but it's longer, and straight. It's a beautiful
nose, a nose that shows lots of strength and character."

"What about my mouth?"

"Mmmm, full lips, good for kissing. But then I already knew that."

"They tingle when you touch them," I admitted.

"Then I'd better stop," he said, pulling his hands away.

I reached for his hands and caught his wrists. "No, not stop, just move
your fingers somewhere else. How about here?"

"I don't think this is a good idea," he whimpered, but he let his
fingers explore my shoulders.

"Now how about my arms?"

A bit later he whispered, "You have long fingers. You should play the
piano."

"I have, some, but I'm not very good at it. How do you think I look
here?" I took his hands and moved them to my waist.

"You, my lady, are very attractive indeed. A slim waist, and broad
hips. I was always very partial to broad hips."

"What about my chest?"

"Now that is definitely off limits, at least if you're referring to the
front of your chest."

"I was, and it isn't off limits. I'm very proud of my breasts, and guys
always look at them. You should be able to see them, too."

"OH MY GOD, Jan! OH MY GOD! They're fantastic. They're ... OH, GOD! OH
GOD!! Oh, excuse me. I'm going to have to go down the hall for a
minute. I'll be right back."

"No, Tom," I said, squatting down in front of him. "We can take care of
it right here."

I quickly unzipped his pants and reached inside. My eyes bugged out
when I pulled out his cock. It was at least two inches longer than
Ron's, and half again as thick. I wrapped my lips around the head and
sucked.

"OH FUCK!" he screamed, and started coming immediately. I hadn't had a
lot of experience doing this, and my mouth quickly felt like it was
overflowing. He was still jerking and squirting, and I started
swallowing in desperation.

He finally stopped and let out a huge breath. "Damn! That was a
horrible thing to do to you. I don't expect you to ever forgive me, and
I'll never forgive myself. Oh, God, Jan! I feel just awful! Are you
going to be all right?"

I swallowed the last of his cum and stood up. "I'm fine, and there's
nothing to forgive. Well, unless you need to forgive me for seducing
you."

"My God, you did seduce me, didn't you? Why?"

"I had lots of reasons; some of them you wouldn't understand. Some of
them I don't understand myself. But I can tell you about some of them.
For one, I already told you you're a sexy hunk. For another, the truth
is I was horny before you got here. But I think the most important
reason was because I could tell you needed it, and I really, really,
wanted to make you feel better."

"Whew! You certainly succeeded at that! You have no idea how long it's
been since a woman touched me that way, and no idea how hard I came."

"Well," I giggled, "I think I do too have some idea about how hard you
came, because I sure had a lot to swallow."

"Oh, no! You actually swallowed it? Now I feel even worse. How could
you do that?"

"I didn't mind, really. I mean, it's not like I do that all the time,
or anything. I wouldn't want you to think that. But I have done it
before, and it just seemed like the best thing to do in this situation.
After all, like you said before, we didn't want you to have a mess in
your pants.

"But, Tom, you're contradicting yourself. First you said I made you
feel better. Then you said you felt even worse. You can't feel better,
and feel worse, both at the same time."

"Like hell, I can't! My feelings are so tied in knots right now I can
feel every emotion there is, all at once."

"Does that include feeling like you want to touch me some more?"

"Shit, YES! Sorry, forgive my language. But I'm dying to touch you
again, and I know I can't touch you because of Ron, and I don't dare
touch you because I'll probably come again if I do, and I want it so
bad!"

"Stop and think a minute, Tom. Think about how I feel. I told you I was
horny before you got here. Actually, I was more than horny. I was ...
well, you kind of interrupted what I was doing and ... well, I want it
even more than you do, Tom. You got to come a minute ago, but I didn't.
I haven't been able to come yet. I'm so horny now I want to tear off my
clothes and tackle you and push you on the bed and rape you. I need it
so bad! Please, Tom, make me come!"

At that I yanked my sweater over my head and tore off my bra. "Touch me
Tom! TOUCH ME!"

"OH FUCK! OH FUCK!" he moaned as he clutched at my tits.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and took a step back, falling onto
the bed and pulling him on top of me. His mouth landed on a nipple and
he started sucking. I pulled my knees up to get my feet on the bed and
my skirt dropped, leaving my thighs bare. He sensed it, somehow, and
put a hand on my thigh. With a yelp I spread my knees as wide as they
would go. Yess! His hand was moving along the inside of my thigh;
closer and closer. I was boiling. I was almost there.

"YEEEESSSSS!!!" I screamed when he touched my panties.

I think I blacked out for a moment, then I was aware that I was humping
my pussy against his finger.

"Take ... take ... take ... take them ... OFFFFF!!!" I finally managed
to plead.

He managed to do that, and then his mouth replaced his finger.

OH FUCK! It had never been like this! OH FUCK, OH FUCK. I kept coming
and coming. It went on and on and on.

He finally raised his head enough to ask, "Had enough?"

"NO, GOD NO! I need it inside me! Fuck me, fuck me, NOW!!"

I will never ever forget what happened then. His cock was so big, so
long, so hot. It filled me like I had never dreamed I could ever be
filled. It kept coming in, and in, and IN! I screamed and wrapped my
legs around him. My pussy was going wild clutching at that fabulous
cock. Then he started pumping and I exploded. He kept pumping and I
kept spasming and the whole world shrank until it was nothing but his
cock and my cunt. He went on and on, and every stroke was like a bolt
of lightning. Finally he came, and we both screamed.

Many minutes later he was still lying on top of me, and we were kissing
tenderly. I could feel his cock shrinking, shriveling, leaving me so
empty where it had been. I wanted to hump against him and try to make
it big again, but I didn't have enough energy to move a muscle.

Many minutes after that he finally pushed himself off of me and sat up.
"I could never, ever, thank you enough for what you just did for me."
His hand was gently stroking my cheek again.

I knew there was no way I could have given him even half the pleasure
that he had given me, but I didn't say that. Instead I just stroked his
hand with mine.

"Jan, it hurts me more than anything to say this, but we mustn't ever
let ourselves do this again."

"Oh, Tom! I'm going to want you so much. How can you say that?"

"Because you're married. And if that isn't enough, I'm going to need to
keep working with your husband until the end of the semester."

"We don't have to tell him. It could be our secret."

"It had better be our secret, if I want to pass calculus and if you
want to stay married. But I swear, Jan, anything more like this and I
won't care whether I pass calculus, and I won't want you to stay
married."

"Yeah, I know what you mean about that part. Me, too."

We got dressed and said good-bye with a final ardent kiss that we
promised ourselves would be our last one. It was, too, though I about
died aching for him. Fortunately it was only two months to the end of
the semester, and then he was gone.

                                 ~~~~

Something else happened during those two months that cast a shadow over
our marriage, and this was something Ron most definitely knew about.
But first I have to tell you that Ron had become a Quaker in college. A
key tenet of Quaker belief is resolution of conflict through peaceful
means. Most Quakers are pacifists, who oppose all war.

The United States had a military draft back then. When Ron turned 18
his draft board classified him 1-A but gave him a college deferment.
Once he became a Quaker, Ron knew he needed to do something about his
draft classification, but he kept putting it off, since he had the
deferment. That spring he told his draft board that he now firmly
believed all war to be sinful, and that for him to serve in the army
would be to violate the will of God. He tried to get the draft board to
reclassify him as 1-O, a Conscientious Objector. That would not get him
out of serving his country, but it would mean that he could perform
alternative service outside the military.

If you think about it a minute you'll see what Ron was up against.
Naturally, the men who would want to serve on a draft board would be
red-blooded American patriots. Indeed the ones on his draft board were,
and they were revolted by the very notion of a pacifist. They figured
Ron for a Commie, or at least a socialist, who was trying to sneak out
of his responsibilities as an American. But they finally compromised
with him, and reclassified him as 1-AO, rather than 1-O. That would
mean he could be drafted and would have to serve in the army if he
were, but he would serve as a noncombatant.

In the end Ron let the classification stand for the time being, made
plans for postgraduate study, and re-filed his deferment forms.

Just before the new semester started a letter arrived from Selective
Service. It was a draft notice; his deferment request had been
rejected. Ron went ahead and started his classes, while trying to fight
the notice. Surely they couldn't draft him while he was in school; it
wasn't right. But the draft board wouldn't budge. In their eyes he was
a draft dodger, trying to get out by going to college for the rest of
his life if he couldn't get out as a sissy pacifist.

                                 ~~~~

In mid October I stood with tears in my eyes as Ron climbed onto an
ugly green army bus, the color of swamp scum. My knight, my savior, had
been taken away from me. All I could do was desperately hang on to my
sanity. I kept myself busy packing, getting rid of things, saying
good-bye to our first little home.

Where could I go? My parents were now in a retirement community, and
had no room for me. My sister was nearly a thousand miles away in
Montana. Ron's mother called me when she learned what had happened, and
I cried into the phone, ignoring the long-distance expense. She invited
me to come stay with them.

It was a 350 mile trip by Greyhound, taking all day, and I was a basket
case by the time I arrived, but they welcomed me with open arms.

That night I curled up in what had been my sister-in-law's bed, before
she had left for college, and cried. I think I cried all night. In the
morning I was exhausted, and still crying. My mother-in-law knocked on
my door.

"Time to get up for breakfast, honey."

"I don't want any. I'm not hungry."

"You should eat something, dearest, it will make you feel better."

"No it won't. Nothing will make me feel better."

"I know, dear, things look pretty bleak right now, but they will get
better. Please get up and join us for breakfast."

"NO! Just leave me alone. Please!"

"OK, honey, but if you get hungry, please come down. I'll save
something for you."

Several hours later I was still curled up in bed when she knocked
again. I was still crying, too.

"Jan, dearest, get up and go get cleaned up. The bathroom is free, and
it will soon be time for lunch."

"I don't want any lunch."

"Honey, you have to eat. You can't just lie there forever."

"Yes, I can. I'm not hungry."

"Dearest, can I come in? We need to talk."

"I don't want to see anybody. I don't want anybody to see me."

"Oh, pooh! I'm not going to be upset by how you look. I'm coming in."

"Nooo!" I wailed, but she came in anyway.

She talked and talked, but couldn't talk me into getting up or joining
them for lunch. She did finally get me to agree to eat some soup if she
brought it up to the room. And she assured me she would just tell the
rest of the family that I was sick.

The rest of the family was Ron's dad and his youngest brother, Pete. He
had another brother and a sister, but they were away at college. Pete
was in high school, which was remarkable in itself, because he was
severely retarded. Ron's mom spent hours every day tutoring Pete, and
his teachers were understanding. Some of the other kids weren't, but
Pete was very gentle, and never seemed to get angry at anyone.

I stayed in that room for days, eating very little and seeing no one
but Ron's mom. I think it must have been the fourth day that she rushed
in without even knocking.

"Look, Jan, you have a letter! It just came."

She handed it to me and patted my arm. "I'm sure things will be much
better, now. You'll see. But right now I'll leave you alone so you can
read your letter."

She was wrong. The letter didn't make things better. If anything it
made them worse. I could hear Ron talking through the words on the
paper, but I couldn't see him. I couldn't touch him; I couldn't have
him. I couldn't even write him, because he said they were just keeping
him at Fort Ord for a few days, and then they would be sending him
somewhere else, he didn't know where.

The letters started coming nearly every day, but there wasn't much he
could say, just that he loved me and he missed me. Every one of them
started me crying all over again. Then came the worst one of all. He
wrote that he had gotten his orders, and they were sending him to
someplace called Fort Sam Houston, in Texas.

Texas! He might as well be a million miles away. I had never been
outside California. I couldn't imagine going as far as Texas. Ron's
letter said they were sending him there on an airplane, which meant he
was already there by the time I was reading about it. In my mind I saw
him being hurtled away from me, out into space, smaller and smaller
until he was only a speck. And then the speck disappeared.

He did give me an address, and I wrote two dozen letters to him that
day; angry letters, tearful letters, frightened letters, hopeless
letters. I tore them all up into tiny pieces. I finally forced myself
to write a letter that lied - I said I was doing OK, and I loved him.
After that I tried to write him every day. I made up stories of the
things I was doing with his family.

In truth, I still spent all day, every day, in his sister's room. I
cried, I stared, I huddled in a ball with my mind blank. If I started
to feel a bit ambitious I would pull out his old letters and reread
them. Then I would start crying again. His mom still brought food to
me. I didn't need much, because I wasn't doing anything. Mostly I just
drank water and cried it back out.

Finally, one day I heard a different, more hesitant, tap on the door.
It didn't sound like Ron's mom.

"Jan, can I come in?"

My heart lurched. It was poor Pete. I didn't want to see him, but I
didn't want to make him unhappy, either.

"Yes, Pete, you can come in."

"Mom said you were sick, and I didn't want to get sick, so I didn't
come."

"It's OK, you can't get sick from what I have."

"I know. I asked Mom, and she told me."

I could tell from his voice that he was standing near the bed, and I
turned to look at him. He just stood there looking at me for a long
time. Finally he spoke.

"You look like you're crying. Are you sad?"

"Yes, I'm very sad."

"Why are you sad?"

"Because Ron is gone," I wailed.

He nodded, and looked sad himself. "I remember. I was sad when he moved
away. But that was a long time ago."

He stared at me a bit longer, then added, "I remember when you got
married. You were very pretty. You weren't sad then."

"No," I sobbed, "I was very happy."

Somehow my tears just then felt different. Pete had helped me remember
one of the happiest days of my life.

"I'm sorry I'm crying," I told him, "but I'm not as sad as I was.
Sometimes people cry when they are happy, too."

"I know, Mom tells me that sometimes."

"Thank you for coming to see me," I managed to say. "I'm really glad
you came. I want you to come again."

"Can I come every day 'til you get better?"

"Yes, Pete, I'd like that very much."

He did come every day, and I always looked forward to his visits. He
was so sweet, and so simple, and yet he always managed to say things
that made me feel better. We became friends, and he started asking
questions. It was a real special feeling that I could help him
understand things.

His mother was sweet, too, but not simple. She was always trying to
talk me into getting up and spending time with the family. She was too
sweet, really, and it was getting on my nerves. She did bring me food,
and I did eat a little. I still wasn't sleeping much. Most nights I
just lay awake and stared at the ceiling. At least I wasn't crying as
much as I had at first. But I didn't care whether I lived or died.
Except when Pete was there.

One day Pete said, "You're Ron's girlfriend, aren't you, for ever and
ever?"

I started to explain that, no, I was his wife, not his girlfriend, but
before I said anything it hit me. He was right. I was Ron's girlfriend,
and I always would be. It was such a special feeling! I sat up, reached
around Pete, and hugged him.

"Yes," I said, "I am, for ever and ever."

I felt him shiver, then he reached around my neck and pulled my head
against his chest. "I wish I had a girlfriend," he gasped.

Still clinging to him I sighed into his chest, "I wish I could be with
my boyfriend right now."

"At least you can be with me."

"Oh, Pete," I shuddered, "it feels so good to hold you like this."

"I like it, Jan. No one has ever held me like this except my mommie."

"Pete, I want to do something, but it has to be just our secret. Can
you promise not to tell anyone, not your mom, not your dad, not
anyone?"

"I've never had a secret like that. But I want to have one with you."

"OK, let go, then. I'm going to stand up. Now, hold me around my
waist."

Pete was several inches shorter than I, and as he pulled me to him my
mouth was even with his eyes. I kissed him on the bridge of his nose.

"OH!" he stammered, "You, you, kissed me! No, no, nobody has ever
kissed me but my mommie."

His arms were holding my waist fiercely, and he was shuddering
uncontrollably.

"Would you like me to kiss you again?"

"YESS!"

"Turn your face up, and let me kiss your cheek."

I bent down and nibbled on his cheek with my lips.

"Would you like to kiss my cheek?"

"YES! YES! YES!"

I turned my cheek to him, he slid his hands up my back, and crushed my
chest against him as he nibbled my cheek. That wasn't all I felt. He
slammed his belly against mine, and I felt something hard hit my groin.
Oops, we've got a problem.

I pushed him gently away. "I think that's enough for now."

I could see that his face was flushed. "Yes, I gotta go right now!"

He scooted out of the room kind of hunched over, and I was quite
certain of what he would be doing in a few seconds. He might be
retarded, but his body was still like that of any other seventeen year
old boy.

When he came to see me the next day I asked, "Did you tell anyone what
we did yesterday?"

"Oh, no! That's our special secret!" He bit his lip, then added, "I
want to do it again."

"I don't know, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Please! I want it so much! Please! You gotta!"

"Well, OK, just a little bit."

He pulled me to my feet and wrapped his arms around my waist. He tilted
his head up and kissed my chin as his arms once again came up behind my
back.

"I want to kiss you."

I tilted my cheek down to him.

"I want to do it like they do in the movies. I've never, ever been
kissed on my mouth."

"We shouldn't do that," I said. Unfortunately, I turned to look him in
the eye as I said that, and he pounced.

Our lips met, and his hands came up to the back of my neck to press my
face against his. I heard a moan deep in his throat and it made my lips
tingle. I didn't want to stop, but I knew I had to. I tried to push him
away, but he was too strong. His lips were all over mine, and I
couldn't help myself. I opened my mouth and tried to swallow his lips.
Then I felt the pounding start. It was his cock pounding against my
pussy. My pelvis was pounding right back. Then I felt, rather than
heard, him scream into my mouth, and he grabbed my shoulders so hard I
thought my tits were going to go right through his chest. He jerked
against my clit again ... and then again ... and then he froze.

Suddenly he pushed away and I could see he was white as a sheet.

"OH NO!" he yelped, and ran out of the room.

I crawled under the sheet, jerked my skirt up to my waist, shoved my
hand down inside my panties, and started mauling my clit. OH GOD! OH
GOD! I needed it so much! It seemed like only seconds later that I
reached my first climax. As soon as I came down from that one I knew I
needed more. I hadn't had any sex for weeks. I pumped my finger into my
cunt and decided I might just keep this up all night. I don't know how
long I kept going or how many times I came, but it was lots.

Finally my arm was too exhausted to do anything more, and then I
realized that I was starving. I rolled out of bed and started for the
door, but I looked down at my skirt, which was a mess. I took it off,
and the smell hit me, so I ripped my panties off, too, and used them to
try to wipe myself a bit. Then I realized my armpits stunk, too, so I
took off my blouse and dug around until I found my deodorant. God! I
was so hairy, there. I hadn't shaved for weeks.

I finally found a pair of pajamas that didn't stink too badly, put on a
robe over them, and snuck down the steps. Everyone was asleep, so I
raided the refrigerator.

The next day Pete came to my room again with his timid knock, and I
told him to come in. He did, but he just stared at me for a while.

"Are you OK, Pete?"

He shook his head. "No, I was bad."

"No, Pete, you weren't bad. I understand."

"I was bad. I wet my pants in front of you. Mom told me not to ever wet
my pants."

"You didn't wet your pants, Pete. That was something different,
something special."

I tried to think through what to tell him, how much he would be able to
understand.

"You're becoming a man, Pete. That's something that men do sometimes
with their girlfriends."

"They wet their pants?"

"No, it's not the same as when you pee. That's like water, but this is
like lotion. It's special."

"It was sticky," he agreed, "and it didn't smell like pee."

"Haven't you ever seen it like that before?"

He just stood there with his mouth going up and down. I could tell he
was very embarrassed.

"It's OK, Pete. You and I are friends. We are special friends. We can
talk to each other about things like that."

"Sometimes I think I need to pee, but I don't. And I have to rub myself
a while, and then the pee comes out looking like that."

"We don't call that pee. We usually call it cum. That just shows you
are growing up. But like with pee, you can't just do it anywhere. Only
by yourself or with very special friends."

"Like you are my special friend?"

"Maybe, but we have to be very careful. It would have to be part of our
secret. And it's not safe to do it the way we did yesterday. Your mom
might come in and catch us, and then it wouldn't be our secret any
more."

"So you mean we can't do it right now."

"That's right. When you come here in the afternoon we mustn't do that,
or any of our secret things."

"But I want to kiss you."

"I want to kiss you, too, but we mustn't do that any more when you come
in the afternoon."

"But that's the only time I see you."

I was shivering with passion, and nothing was going to stop me now,
even though I knew I shouldn't say what I was about to say.

"Maybe, some time, you might wake up in the middle of the night, after
your parents are asleep, and come to my room then."

His eyes were wide as saucers. "You mean in my pajamas? You see me in
my pajamas? And I see you in your pajamas?"

"Well, not exactly. We wouldn't turn the light on, so we wouldn't
really see each other."

"But we could kiss?"

"Yes, we could kiss."

The poor boy was shivering so much his teeth were chattering and he
could hardly speak.

"Can we do it tonight?"

"Yes, if you wake up after everyone is asleep."

"I think I need to go pee - I mean come - now."

"OK, go on. Oh, Pete, If you do wake up tonight, don't knock on my
door. Just slip in very quietly, and shut the door behind you without
making any noise. It has to be part of our special secret."

He nodded, and left quickly.

I needed to come, too, and I pulled the sheet up over myself and
slipped my hand inside my panties. I knew I was being a very naughty
girl, and I didn't care one bit. I just wanted to be very, very,
naughty. I needed this. I needed it so bad.

                                 ~~~~

That night I lay awake planning what I would do if Pete came to see me.
It seemed to take forever, but finally I heard the creak of the door
opening and closing and the soft padding of his pajama feet. I swung my
feet off the bed and sat up.

"Sit here beside me," I whispered. "Now take off the top of your
pajamas."

"I'll get cold."

"You won't get cold, I promise."

After he had the top off I slipped down to kneel at the side of the
bed, with my head close to the pillow.

"Now stretch out on the bed, on your back, like you were going to sleep
here, but close to the edge. Here, we'll pull the sheet up over you so
you won't be cold."

I leaned down close to his face. "Now, about that kiss."

Oh, God, what a kiss that was. He quickly wrapped his arms around my
neck, then grabbed the back of my head to pull me hard against him. I
was slobbering all over his mouth, and he was trying to swallow my
lips. I slipped my tongue into his mouth, and he met it with his. We
started taking turns pumping our tongues into each other.

Meanwhile, his pelvis was humping wildly. I reached my hand under the
sheet to stroke his chest, and started moving it down to his belly. I
let my arm push the sheet down as I went, knowing that his hot chest
and belly would never feel the cold. I slipped my fingers under the
elastic of his bottoms, and quickly lifted them, pushed them down, and
searched for his cock. I had just grabbed it when he screamed inside my
mouth and started coming. I felt nearly half a dozen jets of cum squirt
past my fingers and I just hung on.

His hands dropped away from my head and lay limply, one on the bed, the
other hanging off the edge. I pulled my lips away from him.

"Oh, Jan! Oh, Jan! Oh, Jan!" he babbled.

I reached for the Kleenex box that I had carefully placed on the
bedside stand, and pulled out a wad of tissue. As I started cleaning
the mess on his chest I told him, "Now maybe you see why I had you take
off your pajama top."

The logic was wasted on him. He just kept babbling. I finally brought
my lips back to his to shut him up. This time I kept the kiss more
tender, but it still went on for a long time.

When I finally pulled back, he whispered, "I liked that. I liked that
better than anything I have ever done."

"Could you do something for me, now, Pete?"

"I'd do anything for you, Jan, anything in the world."

"I'd like you to do the same thing for me that I did for you."

"Can you make come, too?"

"No, not the way you do, but sort of, a little bit. You'll see."

"How do I do it?"

"You kneel beside the bed, the way I was, and I'll lie down."

"Shouldn't you take your pajama top off?"

I chuckled. "Maybe, another night, but I think that would be too much
for now. Just lean over me, and start kissing."

Oh, God, that felt good! I reached over my body with my left hand,
grabbed his right hand, and pulled it to my belly, which was already
humping up and down. As our tongues again started thrusting I pushed
his hand inside my pajama bottom. I was getting frantic. 'Please,
Pete,' I thought, 'touch me, touch me!' I finally worked his hand down
to my pussy, and grabbed a finger which I pushed against my clit. He
sort of got the idea, though he was pretty clumsy about it, but I was
so far gone I didn't care. I climaxed in short order.

When Pete felt me jerk and then relax, he pulled his face away from
mine. "Did I do it good?"

"Oh, yes, but I want more. Kiss me again, and I'll show you something
else with your fingers."

This time I grabbed two of his fingers and pushed them down to my cunt.
I heard him moan in my mouth as I helped him push them inside me. I
pulled them out a bit, then pushed again, and he got the idea. Now I
was the one screaming, as he pounded his fingers in and out of my cunt.
I kept coming and coming.

Suddenly Pete jerked his fingers out, and his mouth away from mine.

"I'm going to come again. I can't hold it back any longer."

"Here, get up on the bed." I scooted over to make room for him.

"Pull your pajama top up, and push the bottom down. Now we'll kiss
again."

I rolled against him, and he turned his head to face me. As we started
kissing, I reached down and found his cock. I started pumping, but it
didn't take long. We soon had a second wad of very messy Kleenex.

Then he rolled against me, and we kissed, a long satisfied lovers'
kiss. I wished I didn't have my pajamas on so I could press my skin
against his, feel my tits against his chest, feel his cock against my
crotch. But I knew we had done enough - more than enough - for one
night.

He returned the next night, and the next. Each night I taught him
something new, and after the first night Kleenex was no longer needed.
On the third night I dug out my diaphragm, and had it inside me when he
arrived. It was a good thing I did. After that I stopped trying to be
the teacher, and just reveled every night in the eloquence of his cock.

Two weeks later my period came (thank God), and for four days Pete had
to be satisfied with my mouth. But except for those four days I got
well and royally fucked two or three times every night.

I was a reborn person. I bathed every day, shaved my armpits and legs,
washed my clothes, ate meals with the family, and joined them in games
and outings. Pete's mom could see that he and I had become good
friends, and she was delighted with that, and delighted with the new
me. I shudder to think how she would have reacted if she had known the
truth.

Now my letters to Ron didn't have to lie any more. I WAS fine, I WAS
doing things with the family, and curiously, I did feel like I loved
him very much. Of course I didn't tell him what Pete and I were doing,
but that wasn't lying ... just not telling the whole truth.

                                 ~~~~

In the middle of December I got a really exciting letter from Ron. He
said their basic training was finishing before Christmas, and they
wouldn't start Advanced Basic until after New Years, so everybody was
getting a ten-day leave. He'd gotten to know some guys from Pomona, and
one of them had a wife who was going to drive all the way to Texas to
meet him. The best part was that the couple was planning to drive back
to Pomona for Christmas, and they said Ron and two other guys could
come with them if they would do the driving.

Ron, Jim, and Bill left San Antonio with Rich and Sandy Friday evening.
They got to Pomona late Saturday night and put Ron up overnight. Sunday
morning he took the bus home and arrived at 4:27 that afternoon. I
know, because we all went to the bus depot to meet him, and I watched
the clock for the longest twenty minutes of my life waiting for the bus
to arrive. When he stepped off that bus I monopolized him. Pete and his
dad had to take care of Ron's duffle bag. His mom only got a chance to
hug him from behind. Ron and I kissed the whole way home. Thinking back
on it I can't imagine how Pete must have felt, sitting right beside us
in the back seat of the car.

Poor Pete! He was not going to have a chance to touch me for some time.
But in the years ahead there would be many times that he and I would
sneak off together to share our "special secret". I never denied him
what he wanted so much, and the truth is, I wanted it as much as he
did. As Pete grew older he became more moody, but after each of our
secret sessions he became the sunny boy again that I came to know that
special fall. And if I was feeling blue, spending time making love with
him always perked me up, too.

When we got home from the bus depot that day I dragged Ron straight up
to my room and locked the door. We didn't come out until the next
morning - Christmas morning! WOW! What a Christmas Eve that was. Ron
had been saving up for me for two months. I think he came more times
that night than on our first honeymoon night. I know I was insatiable.

Christmas in his family was always very quiet, with beautiful hymns,
bible readings, and inexpensive presents that were unwrapped one at a
time, very carefully so the paper could be saved for reuse the next
year. But there has never been another Christmas in my life that glowed
so much as that one did.

After lunch Ron and I went back up to my room and ... slept. That's
right, slept. We slept right through Christmas dinner, and finally came
down somewhat guiltily to snack on leftovers. His mom assured us she
understood, and bustled around reheating turkey, potatoes and gravy,
and Harvard beets.

It wasn't until the next day that Ron gave me the really big news.

"You're not going to believe what Rich and Sandy are planning to do
when we go back. She is going to go back with us, and rent an apartment
near the base."

"You mean he'll be able to live off base with her?"

"No, not really, but if he's lucky he'll be able to get a thirty hour
pass on weekends, so he'll be able to spend one day - and one night -
with her."

"Wow! You mean we could have been doing that all this time?"

"No, not during the basic training we just went through. They only
allow that when we get to Advanced Basic."

"So, we can do it now?"

"If you want to, Jan, but you'll be alone most of the time."

"I don't care, if I can spend one day a week with you."

Ron grinned. "I was kinda hoping you would say that, but are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, but how do I get there?"

"I asked the guys if you could ride back with us. It'll be really
crowded with six of us in their old '54 Rambler, but they are OK with
it if you are."

At that point I would have happily ridden in the trunk if I had to! I
even mentioned that, but Ron pointed out the trunk was already stuffed
with duffle bags coming out, and with me along we'd have even more
luggage going back. Which meant I was going to have to be very choosy
about what I would need for the next two months.

                                 ~~~~

Since the guys had made it from Texas to California in just over a day,
they figured they could make it back in the same amount of time. Ron
and I took the bus down to Claremont on the 31st, and the gang picked
us up there at 4:30. Getting us all into the car took some real work.
We ended up with Jim and Bill in the front, along with a suitcase on
the floor in front of the passenger seat. In the back, Sandy sat on
Rich's lap and I sat on Ron's.

We realized if we left it that way Jim and Bill would have to do all
the driving, but neither Sandy nor I felt comfortable about sitting on
any of the other guys' laps. We finally decided that Sandy would sit on
my lap when either of our husbands was driving, which still left three
abreast in the back. Before the trip was over we all agreed that we now
knew what sardines must feel like.

It wasn't until we were on our way that someone pointed out that Texas
time was two hours ahead of California. That meant the guys got two
free hours on their first trip, but we were going to lose that time.
They had left at 7 PM and arrived at midnight. We left at 5 PM, but if
we took the same amount of time we wouldn't get to San Antonio until 2
AM.

That wouldn't do. The guys had to be in their barracks without fail by
midnight. That meant we could make stops for gas and bathroom breaks,
brief stops for meals, and pretty much nothing else.

We were just coming into Tucson when we heard the countdown to midnight
on the radio. We all said "Happy New Year" to each other, and I kissed
Ron, but that was the extent of our celebration. We were already
cramped and stiff and tired, and the misery had only begun.

Discomfort aside, I did make four new friends during that long, long,
night and day. I had wondered how three guys from Pomona could have
ended up in basic training at the same base in Texas at the same time,
but it was perfectly logical once they explained it. They were all
Seventh Day Adventists, and they said there was a large community of
SDAs (as they called themselves) in the Pomona area. They explained
that most SDAs were willing to be drafted, but refused to bear arms in
the military. Because of that, they were all classified as 1-AO, and
1-AO basic training was always at Fort Sam Houston.

Someone went on, laughing, to tell me the army puts a cardboard tag at
the foot of every bunk that says either 'S' or 'C'.

"The 'S' is for SDA, you see," Ron explained, "and the 'C' is for
Christian."

"Not, that we're not Christians, too," Rich added quickly, "maybe even
better Christians than some, like Ron here, who seem to have strange
ideas about the divinity of Jesus."

With that he poked Ron, who grinned. Obviously there had been some
theological discussions among them.

"The point is," Jim threw in, looking back from the front seat, "that
the drill sergeant and lieutenant need some way to tell us apart,
because we refuse to drill on the Sabbath, and they refuse to drill on
the first day of the week. Though," he added, winking at Ron and me,
"I've never understood that last part."

"Yeah, and the really interesting point is," Bill added, keeping his
eyes on the road, "that there are as many 'S' tags as 'C' tags. Kinda
makes you think that half of the real Christians in the world are
SDAs."

We all had a good laugh over that, but it did make me think.

It was only ten in the morning, California time, and Ron was driving,
when he announced that we were approaching El Paso.

"You mean El Paso, Texas," I asked, incredulous. "Wow, we're way ahead
of schedule!"

That brought a big laugh, and Sandy had to explain.

"Sorry, honey, but El Paso isn't much more than half way. Texas is a
really BIG state."

"But we've been on the road for what, seventeen hours," I wailed,
calculating quickly, "and if it's really noon now, we only have twelve
hours left."

Ron nodded grimly and pressed harder on the gas pedal.

I wasn't where I could see the speedometer so I don't know how the guys
did it, but it was just after 11:30 when we pulled up at the Fort Sam
gate. I do know that lunch and dinner had been candy bars grabbed when
we had to stop for gas.

The guard wouldn't let any civilians past the gate that late at night.
Sandy and I had to say good-bye quickly to Ron and Rich so they could
check in and then hoof it to the barracks, duffel bags slung over their
backs.

Suddenly I was nearly alone, late at night, in a strange city and a
strange car, with a woman I had only known for one day. I didn't even
have a place to sleep. I burst into tears, and Sandy and I clung to
each other.

"Don't worry," she finally told me, "we're going to the SDA
servicemen's center. They'll take care of us."

"But I'm not even SDA," I sobbed.

"It doesn't matter. You'll see."

She was right. The woman who met us when we knocked at the door was
just wonderful. She pointed us to the showers (God, did we need that!)
and by the time we felt cleaner she had two beds made up for us. I
slept for twelve hours, and when I woke up Sandy was gone, but an
elderly man saw that I got something to eat, listened to my story, and
called a middle-aged woman to come help me find a place to stay. She
spent the whole afternoon with me, and found a little apartment only
four blocks from the base.

As long as I live I will never, ever, forget what those people did for
me, or stop praising them as some of the kindest people in the world.

I moved in to my tiny new home that very night. Fortunately it was
furnished, but I spent the next several days finding my way around the
local bus system, and learning where I could get groceries, linens, and
all the other things I needed to set up housekeeping. Ron and I didn't
have a lot of money, and it took all I had for the first and last
month's rent, but Ron's dad had slipped five 20-dollar bills in my
purse when we left. Bless him for that!

That first week went by quickly, and Saturday came before I knew it.
Ron was able to get a pass for Saturday night and Sunday, and we
screwed like bunnies the whole time. But then it was Sunday night, and
he had to leave me.

God, I was lonely that next week, and it was bitter cold; too cold to
be outside except for very short stretches. It was certainly too cold
to wait for a bus, at least not with the clothes I had. I had never
dreamed that it could get that cold in San Antonio, and people ever
since have laughed at me when I have tried to tell them how cold it
was. But it's true. I think they said on the radio that Wednesday that
week the temperature never got above about 25 degrees.

I made it down to a corner store where I bought a tablet and some
pencils, then spent most of my time shivering in front of the radiator
and writing. I wrote poetry, I wrote descriptions of the bits of San
Antonio I had seen, I wrote love letters to Ron, and I wrote about my
life. Much of the story above was written that week.

Being cooped up in a tiny efficiency apartment made the time go
extremely slowly, despite my attempts to write and write and write.
Somehow, though, I managed to stay out of the hell of depression, and I
greeted Ron with open arms when he arrived, nearly frozen, Saturday
night.

Sunday morning Ron and I were still snuggling in bed after making love
for the fourth or fifth time that night when he somewhat hesitantly
brought it up.

"Honey, I've told you that Bill and I have gotten to be real friends,
and I'm sure you remember him from the trip down here."

"Of course, sweetie, he seemed real nice."

"Well, I know you and I don't have much time alone right now, but I'd
really like to do something nice for him. Like maybe invite him to
dinner."

Ron paused at that, and seemed to be waiting, afraid I would pounce on
him. But I found myself remembering the SDA servicemen's center, and
wishing I could do a little something to repay their kindness.

"Of course, Ron, I think that's a wonderful idea."

"You do? Of course they're off on Saturday, and Bill wouldn't have to
be back until late Saturday night. I get off at six on Saturday, so it
would have to be a Saturday night dinner. Would that be OK?"

"Sure, let's make it next week. We can't afford anything very fancy,
but I'll have a real home cooked meal waiting when you get here."

"All right, Jan! Has anybody told you that you are amazing?"

About then we decided on another round of sex before we got up.

The weather was much warmer the next week, so I able to get out. I even
found a Goodwill store, but all their warm jackets and sweaters were
gone, naturally. I was, however, able to get a table setting for our
guest, and two serving dishes so I wouldn't have to put the cooking
pans on the table.

Planning for the Friday night dinner gave me a purpose and shape to the
week. When Ron and Bill arrived I had everything shined and spotless in
the apartment, and my spirit was shining too. I felt so proud that Ron
and I could entertain a guest. The meal and evening went just
perfectly. Ron and Bill shared stories of how stupid army life could
be, and we all laughed uproariously. Bill finally left about half past
nine, and we both urged him to come back soon.

The minute he was out of the door Ron and I were in each others' arms,
and I doubt if we were ever more than three feet away from each other
for the next twenty-four hours. We showered together, and we even went
to the bathroom together, chatting happily while we took care of
business there.

What a letdown it was when he had to leave at eleven the next night. I
cried myself to sleep, but at least I slept that night. The rest of the
week I was pretty much a zombie. I sat and stared at my tablet during
the day, but couldn't seem to write anything. I lay and stared at the
ceiling during the night, but couldn't find sleep. I stopped bathing; I
stopped changing clothes; I stopped cooking and cleaning.

Sometime Saturday afternoon I told myself I needed to get myself
together. Ron would be here, and I didn't want him to see me like this.
I started wandering around and picking things up, but I couldn't seem
to focus. I put dirty dishes in the sink, but saw a bra hanging on the
back of a chair, so picked it up and tried to think where I could hide
it. Then I saw the bed wasn't made, but rather than do that, considered
whether maybe I should take a shower. I was still thinking about that
when I heard a tap on the door. PANIC!

I opened the door a crack and peeped out. It was Bill! I screamed and
slammed the door. Then I realized that was terrible, and opened it
again a crack. He was still standing there.

"I can't let you in, Bill. Things are a total mess."

"That's OK, I just wanted to check up on you and be sure you were all
right."

"I'm not," I gulped, "but I have to get myself together for Ron. Please
go away!"

"Look, Jan, I really owe you for that dinner last week, and I'd love to
do something to help. How much do you need to get done?"

"Everything! The house is a mess, the kitchen is a mess, and I'm a
mess."

"OK, how about this. You go get yourself clean and pretty for Ron, and
I'll clean up the kitchen."

"No, I can't let you see. I'm too ashamed of myself."

"Jan, listen to me. If you don't let me help you, you won't be ready
when Ron gets here, and then you'll have to face him. Which do you care
about more, what he thinks, or what I think?"

"Him, of course."

"So let's just ignore how you feel about me, and get the job done, OK?"

I just stood there and stared at the door, still open only a crack.

"Please let me in, Jan, we don't have a lot of time before he gets
here."

I finally said "OK" and bolted for the bathroom. I couldn't stand to
let him actually look at me. He could let himself in.

Now I was motivated. I bathed, put on clean clothes, and did my face. I
was making the bed when he came out of the kitchenette.

"Well, I'm sure things aren't as nice as you would be able to get them,
but at least the dishes are clean and dry, and the stove and counter
should pass casual muster. I'm going to sneak out before Ron gets
here."

"What? But ... aren't you staying? I assumed Ron invited you over."

"Well, yes and no. He did ask me to drop by if I had a chance, just to
see if you were fine, but I have other plans for dinner."

"Oh," I said blushing, "you mean he was worried about me; that I might
be ... feeling ... low."

"Yes, Jan, he admitted that you can be ... moody ... at times. Oh,
rats! now I've totally embarrassed you again."

"It's OK, Bill, really. As you found out, he had reason to be worried.
And you've been wonderful to help. I'll be sure to tell Ron."

"I have a better idea. Let's just make it our own little secret. Then
he can be ever so proud of you."

"Oh, Bill, you're a wonderful friend. Thank you!"

I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek. He
pulled me to him for a brief hug, and then he was gone.

Ron arrived a few minutes later and I had to admit I didn't have
anything planned for dinner. In fact, I admitted, I didn't have hardly
anything in the kitchen to make dinner with. He was very understanding.
He just smiled, and told me the apartment looked nice, and so did I. We
didn't have money to eat out, so we ended up going grocery shopping
together. Wow! Just like old times in college.

I wasn't as bubbly that next day as I was the weekend before, but that
was probably a good thing. When I get really high I can crash very
suddenly, and after Ron left I told myself sternly I wasn't going to
crash this time the way I did the week before. I managed to keep myself
going by writing. I wrote long letters to my parents and my sister; to
Ron's parents and to Pete. Pete's letters were hard, because I wasn't
sure whether his mother might see them, but I tried to hint at our
feelings without coming out and saying anything. He and I had sort of
developed a code language we could use when others were around. I wrote
to friends from high school and college, and three letters to my
college roommate.

I kept writing until Thursday when a letter from Ron showed up in our
mailbox. I was so excited! I knew he didn't really have time to write.
But all the air went out of me when I read his short note:

    Jan, darling,

    I'm crying as I write this, and I know you'll be crying as you read
    it. They just told us no one will be able to take any time off this
    weekend.

    I'll miss you terribly, but I ache to think of how lonely you will
    be. Be strong, my love, and be there for me the next weekend.

    I love you very, very, very much.

    Ron

I know, you'll think it was callous that he wrote rather than talking
to me, but we knew we would only be in the apartment for a few weeks,
and telephone service was expensive, so we didn't have a phone. What
else could he do?

                                 ~~~~

I really have no recollection of what happened the week after I got
that letter. The next thing I remember is hearing a pounding knock on
my door. I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't stop, so I finally
rolled over in bed and yelled, "Go away!"

"No, Jan, I'm not going to go away. Come open the door." It was Bill's
voice.

"I can't. I'm sick. I can't get up."

"Jan, you get over here right now and open this door, or I'm going to
force my way in."

I heard him push against the door, but I knew he couldn't open it. It
was locked and bolted. I didn't say anything, and soon I heard a
scratching sound. I pulled my knees up to my chin and continued to lie
there, staring at the door. Bill kept pushing and pulling on it, and
digging at it with something, until finally, to my horror, it opened.

"NOO!" I screeched. Then I was sobbing.

Despite my clenched eyes I could tell that he had found the light
switch and turned it on. I moaned and rolled away from him in the bed.
Almost immediately I felt him shaking me.

"Jan, stop it! Come on, Jan, you can do it. Roll over and look at me."

"Noo," I wailed. "Why are you here? Go away."

"Forget it. I'm not going away. You and I both know that you've got to
get hold of yourself before Ron gets here."

"WHAT? Ron's coming? Now?"

"No, not now, but he will be here, and you need to be ready when he
is."

"What day is it? He's coming on Saturday, isn't he? Is it Saturday?"

"No, it's Friday night, but you need to start cleaning this place up."

"I can't do it! I just can't!"

"Yes you can, Jan. I'll help you. We can do it together."

"You don't understand. I haven't slept for days. I haven't eaten
anything in I don't know how long. I don't have the strength to get
up."

"What you mean is that you don't have the WILL to get up. You could
find the strength if you had to."

"Whatever, I don't; I can't."

"You do, you can, you will. I'll make you do it."

"Go away. You're bothering me, but you can't make me do anything."

"What if I do this?" He actually tickled my arm.

"Stop that!"

"I won't. Not until you get up."

He was running his fingers up and down the tender underside of my arm,
from my elbow up toward my shoulder, just barely grazing my skin.

"Bill, don't!"

"Get up, and I'll stop." Now he poked me in the ribs.

"BILL!"

"Ah, now we're starting to get somewhere. What happens if I tickle you
here?"

Suddenly I felt his fingers scratching at the instep of my foot. I
jerked it away and wished I had been wearing shoes. The sensation moved
to my other foot, and I tried to jerk it away, but I couldn't, at least
not the same way. I was lying partially curled up with my back to him,
and I had first pulled my top knee up to my stomach. But my bottom leg
was partially sunk onto the soft bed, and I wouldn't have been able to
get it under my other thigh, anyway. I ended up kicking my foot toward
the end of the bed.

"Oh, so you think that'll stop me, do you? Watch this."

I felt his fingers scratching lightly at the back of my knee.

"STOP IT, BILL! I MEAN IT!"

"I told you, I'll stop it when you get up. But it's going to keep
getting worse until you do, I warn you."

I felt the tingle as his fingers barely touched their way up the back
of my thigh. Oh my God! When I jerked my knee up I must have pulled my
skirt up quite a ways on my lower thigh. And now his hand was there.
Right there on my naked thigh. OH MY GOD!

"Now let's try the other leg."

WHAT? His hand is touching high up on my thigh, right below my panties.
The way I have it bent up he might even be able to see my panties. No,
he COULD see my panties. I am sure of it. All he has to do is move his
head a bit toward the bottom of the bed and he can look right past my
skirt. And that is where his voice is coming from! He is staring at my
panties; I know it. Oh, my, God, and the way my leg is bent he can see
the crotch of my panties, right where my pussy is. He must be staring
at my panties and seeing how my pussy lips make them bulge out. I've
got to do something, I've got to!

"Bill ..."

"Yes, Jan?"

"Move your hand a little bit."

"Oh, so I'm finally getting to you. Are you ready to get up?"

"No ... just move it a little."

"Which way?"

"Up and down. Please. ... Yesss ... like that."

"Now higher. ... On my panties. ... Yesss."

"I think ... I think ... I think I may ... may ... may be able to ...
to get up ... maybe ... soon ... if you ... just a bit more ... yes ...
yes ... between ... yes ... YES ... RIGHT THERE! ... MORE! ... MORE!
... AAAAHHHHHHIIIIIEEE!"

I lay there panting for a while, then rolled over on my back, pushing
his hand away.

"Oh, God, Bill, I'm so embarrassed. But I think I can get up now."

He stepped away from the bed and I swung my legs over the side, then
sat up.

"Whoa, I feel a bit dizzy."

"Just sit there a bit, you'll feel better. In fact, wait right there,
I'll be back in a flash."

He stepped to the door, then turned and pointed an accusing finger at
me. "Don't lie down, or I'll have to start tickling you again."

I giggled. "Maybe I should lie down, so you can do it like you did last
time."

"Next time I won't be so nice to you, I promise. Stay there while I
make a quick trip to the car."

He was back before long, with a paper bag in one hand and a paper cup
in the other.

"I got this in case you didn't have anything to eat. It's from a new
place in town called 'Whataburger'"

"Bill, you can't afford to buy restaurant food!"

"This I can. It cost me all of sixty cents."

"You gotta be kidding."

"Scout's honor. Forty cents for the hamburger, twenty cents for the
milk shake."

I opened the bag, but the smell made my stomach turn. Not that it was a
bad smell, just that my body just wasn't up to solid food yet. The
milkshake was a godsend, though. It had pretty much melted, but that
was fine with me.

Once the milkshake was gone I stood up, and without a word we each went
to our tasks, the same tasks as the last time he was there two weeks
earlier. Well, in theory the same tasks, but much worse. For Bill's
part he was dealing with food that had been drying on the dishes for a
week. For my part I had hair that was a tangled rat's nest, and no
clean clothes to put on.

I started by washing out some undies and a blouse in the bathroom sink
and hanging them over the radiator to dry. I found a skirt that was
wrinkled but didn't smell too bad to wear. Then I spent thirty minutes
standing under the shower, half of it fighting with my hair. I scrubbed
every inch of my body and shaved my legs. My underarms would have to
wait, but I lathered them up like another head of hair and did the same
to the bush between my legs.

I dried and powdered myself, then picked up the clothes I had been
wearing. NO WAY! The stench was unbearable. I couldn't imagine how Bill
could have come close to me without gagging. My clean clothes were on
the radiator, but I couldn't get to them without going right past the
kitchenette. I finally cracked the bathroom door.

"Bill, could you help me with something?"

"Sure, Jan, what do you need?"

"I put some clothes on the radiator. Could you see if they're dry?"

Oh, God, I was asking him to touch my bra and panties! Well, he'd
already touched my panties ... rubbed my panties ... rubbed my pussy
through my panties. Yeah, but, ... that was then. It still gave me a
weird tingle to think of him doing it. And what kind of a tingle do you
suppose it's giving him?

"I think they're dry enough. Do you need them?"

"Yes, please, if you don't mind."

He brought them and handed them through the crack in the door without
looking in or saying a word. The guy was an angel.

I got dressed and came out, then looked around the apartment in
astonishment. Not only was the kitchen clean, but the bed was made,
there were no clothes lying on the floor, and my papers were all neatly
stacked on the table. The guy was a MIRACLE angel.

"Oh Bill! You're WONDERFUL!"

I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him right on the mouth. The
poor guy nearly turned purple with embarrassment, or something. Oh,
wait. It was or something. I could feel the something pressing against
my belly. But he was embarrassed, too, and tried unsuccessfully to
stammer something as he pushed me away.

I wasn't embarrassed. Not one bit. I was just plain horny. So I stared
straight in his eyes and said, "I need you to tickle me again."

Now he managed to get something out. "I, I, I need to go now."

"No you don't. You need to tickle me. I won't let you go until you
tickle me."

The tables had turned! Now I was the one making the demands. He had
forced me, now I would force him.

"No, Jan, that wouldn't be a good idea."

"It's not your decision. You are going to tickle me again."

"I can't, Jan, I really can't!" The poor guy was sweating and shivering
now.

"You can, and you will. You're going to tickle the inside of my mouth."

His eyes bugged out. "Your WHAT?"

"My mouth," I said calmly.

"Jan, if you think I'm going to french kiss you, you're crazy."

"Suit yourself on that, but you are going to tickle the inside of my
mouth, like this," and I squatted down in front of him.

Before he had time to realize what I was doing I had his zipper down
and his penis out. It was long and very hard.

"JAN! NO," he yelped as I put it in my mouth.

"OH, GOD, NO, DON'T," he panted as I started sucking on him. But the
way his pelvis was moving told me I could ignore his words.

"STOP IT, JAN, STOP IT! I'M ABOUT TO COME!"

Now THAT I was ready to listen to, if he would be reasonable. I pulled
him out of my mouth.

"OK, I'll stop, on one condition."

"Anything!"

"You have to tickle me inside."

"What?"

"You have to tickle me with that all the way up inside me."

"No! That's ... that's ... that's adultery! That's a sin!"

"Not for you, it isn't. You're not married. You let me worry about my
sins. Besides, you already made me come tonight, and now I'm going to
make you come, one way or the other. So what'll it be, like this?" I
slipped the head of his penis into my mouth for a moment and licked it,
"or tickling me inside, where I need it?"

"No, I can't do that," he moaned.

"OK, here goes, then," and I again wrapped my mouth around his jerking
rod.

"NO! ... STOP! ... STOP! ... YES! ... YES! ... I want it ... INSIDE!"

In about ten seconds flat I was on my back on the bed kicking my
panties off my feet, and he was standing beside me naked from the waist
down. Ten seconds later he was on top of me, pumping and frantically
trying to find where his shiny wet cock was supposed to go. I figured
I'd better help him before he squirted all over the bed, and I guided
it to my sopping wet hole. He sank all the way in in one push, and then
screamed, and I could feel jet after jet of his cum slamming against my
cervix. Oh, oh, no diaphragm. Well, too late for that.

When he could get his breath he started babbling.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, Jan, I never knew, I never knew it
could, oh God, oh God, could feel, I didn't know, I didn't know, I
can't believe it, so good, so good, so good, oh, oh, oh, so good, oh, I
love you, I love you, I love you."

The whole time I could still feel him moving around inside me, hard as
a rock, and driving me insane. He hadn't exactly given me much time to
get there myself.

"Shhh, Bill, don't you want to do a little more?"

"Oh, YES ... Oh, YES! Oh YES! Oh YES! Oh YES!" and he was off and
running.

UH, HUHH! Now THAT'S what I need. "More! ... MORE! ... HARDER! ...
HARDER! ... YESSSS! I'M COMING! AHHHHHHHHHH!"

He had stopped and looked down at me in amazement when I screamed that
I was coming, then his eyes got huge and he sucked in his breath as I
clamped down on him. He screamed as my muscles started milking him and
he started pounding at an unbelievable rate. I was still coming when he
let loose his second load and we danced together the thrilling, pulsing,
dance inside me.

Much later he rolled off me and looked adoringly into my eyes. "Oh,
Jan, darling! I'll never, ever, ever, forget this night. It's the most
wonderful night of my life. I'll always, always love you."

Then his eyes turned inward and lost their sparkle. "I'll always,
always, miss you."

"It's true, Bill, we will have to face that part. But not tonight. Can
you stay with me ... all night?"

He nearly broke into tears at that. "Oh, how I wish! But I borrowed
Rich and Sandy's car, and I promised I'd get it back to them tonight.
In fact, it must be getting late. I really, really have to go."

It was very hard for me to say good night, and much harder for him, I
am sure, than it was for me. I had changed his life that night.

The next evening I did have dinner ready for Ron when he arrived. I
would have felt guilty if I hadn't. I also had my diaphragm in and it
got a thorough workout that night. I would have felt very guilty if it
hadn't.

Ron waited until Sunday to give me his big news. The Advanced Basic
course only had one week to go, and Friday he would be free to join me
for the whole weekend. We could spend two nights and two whole days
together!

A little devil in one corner of my brain said, 'Shucks, that means I
won't have a chance to be with Bill,' but I squashed that thought
quickly. Ron was my real love, my life mate. This was wonderful news.
Unless ...

"That's wonderful, Ron! But what happens after that class?"

"Oh, there's another one that follows it. The real Medic MOS training.
Can you imagine me a doctor?" He laughed a bit. "Of course I won't be a
real doctor; that would take years of training. But for soldiers in the
field we'll be the closest thing to a doctor they have. Medics give
shots, sew gaping wounds, put splints on broken bones, give out doses
of strong medicines, and lots of other things. It's pretty scary,
really."

"So it scares you to work on people that way?"

"No, not exactly. It's more that I think about how much real doctors
have to know, and how little I'm going to know, and how I could kill
somebody if I made a mistake."

He didn't say it, and neither did I, but we both knew there was
something else, too. People get killed by bullets and bombs on battle
fields. Lots of people. Medics included. I changed the subject a bit.

"Are you sorry we didn't run away into Canada instead of letting them
draft you?"

Ron shook his head. "No, this is important work, and I'm learning
things that will be valuable all our life. Just think, what if one of
our kids fell out of a tree, or out of the car, or had some other
terrible accident? I'll probably know what to do to help before we can
get them to a hospital."

I gave him a kiss. "I'm glad we didn't run. We would have had to give
up our families and friends."

I kept my spirits up the next week, looking forward to the long weekend
coming -- at least, the longest we'd had since leaving California. But
it didn't work out that way. You never know what's going to hit you in
the army. He did walk in shortly after six on Friday night, but he was
carrying a huge duffel bag, and wearing a rather sad smile.

"I got my orders," he told me after a relatively short kiss. "Everybody
else is staying here for the medic course, but I'm not."

Intermixed with lots of tears from me he explained that he was being
sent to Chicago to learn to be a food inspector, and he had to fly
there on Sunday. He tried to assure me this was really very good news;
that food inspectors never went up to the front lines, like medics
always did.

"But what about me," I sobbed. "When will I see you again?"

"How about next week," he asked.

He grinned at the puzzled look on my face.

"How about every day next week?"

"You mean it?"

"And every day the week after that, and the week after that?"

"What are you talking about? Are you planning to go AWOL?"

He shook his head. "No, and I can't promise it'll happen, but I'm
hoping it will. My staff sergeant said there was a good chance they
would let me live off base. In fact he said it isn't really a base at
all, more like a big warehouse or office building."

"Oh, Ron, this is wonderful! I can't wait! When will you know for
sure?"

"Well, obviously not until after I get there, but I thought we should
make some plans, anyway. You do want to move to Chicago, don't you?"

"Of course!"

"So here's what I was thinking. Next weekend in Chicago I should have
time off, and I can look for a place to live - hopefully for both of
us, but if not, at least for you. I promise I'll find SOMETHING on
Saturday. Then if we plan for you to get there on Sunday, I can meet
you and we can, uh, 'move in' that very afternoon."

"I think you'd better explain that 'move in' part," I teased, and he
spent the next hour spelling it out very graphically.

Part of the day Saturday was spent checking out Greyhound and train
connections from San Antonio to Chicago. Once we saw the schedules, Ron
insisted on pampering me and sending me on the train. I didn't object,
because I would have had to spend two nights on the bus. The train left
early Saturday morning and arrived Sunday afternoon.

Once that was settled, Ron told me he had an errand he had to run by
himself.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm not telling. It's a secret. I won't be long."

'Flowers?' I wondered. He really shouldn't.

He was gone about half an hour, and was beaming when he got back. No
flowers.

"I called Bill, and asked if he could take you to the train next
Saturday. I was worried about the bus transfers and all the luggage you
would have. He said he would!"

Oh, my. I imagined Bill trying to contain his enthusiasm and answer
without giving our secret away. I'll bet he's planning to arrive very
early.

"In fact, as we talked about it he asked if you might need some help
Friday night getting everything packed and cleaned, and he offered to
come over then, too. You don't mind, do you? I know I should have asked
you before I said yes, but he's been such a good friend."

Mind? Oh, God! I'll bet he's hoping to make one trip of it, not two.
I'll bet he's dreaming right now of what may be the wildest night he'll
ever spend in his life. Just like I'm already ... Oops.

"Uh, sure. That would be very nice. There'll probably be all sorts of
last-minute details to take care of."

The army paid for a taxi to the airport for Ron the next day, but I
insisted on going with him. I assured him I'd be able to get back on
the bus. We walked hand-in-hand to the gate, and kissed fervently
before he had to walk through the glass door and out onto the tarmac. I
stood there with tears in my eyes as he walked to the plane, up the
steps, and disappeared. I didn't know where he was sitting, but I waved
and waved just in case he could see me. I watched as the plane was
backed up, then taxied. I watched as it took off, and finally
disappeared into the clear blue sky. Then I turned, and asked where I
could catch a bus.

I wasn't down that week; I was up. I was high as a kite, high as the
plane Ron left on. In seven days I would be meeting him in Chicago!
We'd be living together full time, I knew it in my bones. Meanwhile, in
five days Bill would be over. Oh, my God, what a night that would be. I
raced through the week, passion piled on top of passion, dreams on top
of dreams.

By Friday afternoon I had everything packed, donated, or returned. The
apartment was spotless, and I had bathed twice. I squirted the special
jelly into my diaphragm and slipped it up inside me. Oh, my, I was
already wet. I put on the black lace panties and bra I had left out,
pulled down the tight powder blue sweater that accented my breasts so
well, and fastened my pretty poodle skirt. Then I sat down to wait.

Bill was very prompt, and his mouth fell open as soon as he saw me.

All he could say was, "WOW!"

But his passion-filled eyes said much more, and I answered their
question with a tongue kiss that soon had his hard-on hammering against
me through the heavy material of my skirt.

"This skirt is too heavy," I whispered when I finally pulled away from
him. "Why don't you take it off?"

He groaned and dropped to his knees, where he was soon lapping all over
my panties.

"Bill, honey, wouldn't it work better if you took those off, too?"

I guess I shouldn't have said that. It was more than he could handle.
He screamed, tore off his pants and my panties, threw me on the floor,
and rammed into me. The pulsing jerks of his penis, and the jets of
semen I felt inside me, told me I had pushed him over the edge.

"Oh, Jan," he finally gasped, "I did it again. I'm so sorry. I was
going to try ever so hard to make it good for you, and I've ruined it."

"Shush. You haven't ruined anything. Tell me, you don't have to return
the car tonight, do you?"

"No, of course not."

"Well, then, we have hours and hours to make it better and better."

That set him off again, but this time I was able to come twice before
he did. After that we finished undressing and spent the night in bed
worshiping each others' bodies and indeed letting it get better and
better.

We didn't really sleep that night; just dozed a bit between rounds. As
soon as it started getting light we got up, showered together and dried
each other off, then got dressed and loaded my things into the car. He
took me to a little breakfast cafe where we held hands across the table
while we ate. After that he took me to the train depot. We sat on the
hard old bench seat, snuggling and waiting until it was time for me to
leave. Then there was a final good-bye kiss - good-bye forever, we both
knew - and the conductor helped me up the steps.

                                 ~~~~

The trip was long, but filled with exhilarating and blissful dreams.
They were dreams of the unbelievable night I had just lived, but also
dreams of nights to come with Ron. I felt a twinge of sadness that I
would have to keep the last night in San Antonio a secret from Ron; he
would never be able to accept it; but the twinge was overwhelmed by the
soaring joy I felt in my life.

I climbed out of the train in Chicago only to find myself indoors, in a
huge hall. This place was like nothing I had ever imagined. It seemed
like there were millions of people going in all directions at once. I
looked around in bewilderment, and then I heard his voice.

"Jan, over here!"

How he found me I'll never know, but my knight had rescued me again. He
told me we'd have to take two buses to get home, and I groaned,
thinking of half-hour waits at bus stops. Chicago astounded me once
again. We had no more than dragged my luggage to the bus stop when a
bus pulled up, and Ron said it was ours. How lucky could we get. Then
when we got off that bus, the other one we needed was there in less
than a minute.

Ron shrugged. "I know it's hard to believe, but it seems like it's
always that way here. I've never seen so many buses."

We were soon home, though it was only a walkup third floor garret. I
didn't care a bit, because by that time Ron had told me excitedly that,
yes, he would be home almost every night.

Amazingly, when Ron graduated from his class he got assigned to the
school as an instructor, and we settled into semi-permanent life in The
Second City, the most amazing place I have ever lived. We only stayed
in that first garret a month, then found a much nicer place. It wasn't
the place that really mattered, though. It was that Ron and I were
together. We did everything together, and every night was a night of
wedded bliss.

Until, several months later, the army sent Ron away to Minneapolis for
a two-week class. I must have cried for two days when he left, then
just curled up in a ball in bed. I couldn't sleep, or think, or
anything. It was just like the bad old days from before. I just didn't
care anymore. I didn't care about anything. I didn't care if I lived or
died.

It must have been some time in the middle of the second week when the
phone rang. I didn't have the energy or the will to answer it. I just
let it ring. It finally stopped, and it slowly seeped into my brain
that it might have been Ron calling. I should have answered; I couldn't
understand why I didn't, but somehow I just couldn't. Sometime later it
started ringing again. I listened to it ring six times, and hoped it
would stop, but it didn't. I finally forced myself to pick up the
receiver.

It wasn't Ron; it was Sergeant Nelson. He was calling to tell me when
Ron would get back. I'm not sure what I said, or what he said to me,
but I remember crying. For some reason, Sergeant Nelson showed up at my
door that night. He was soooo gooood to me, but that's another story.

=======================================================================

Dear readers,

This story is only partly fiction. It is based on the life of a real
person with a tortured soul.

Please do not think that I am trying to treat mental illness lightly in
this piece. I have been close, in very different ways, to two women who
suffered from what used to be called manic/depression, and is now
called a bipolar disorder. Both acted out, in sexually promiscuous
ways, their manic rushes and their cries for help. Both were given
prescriptions to control their mood swings, but neither could find the
self-control to take their medications all of the time. Both died of
causes related to their illness.

These two women took a great deal out of me as I tried to support them,
but in neither case was I strong or steadfast enough to meet their
needs. Should you ever be close to someone like that, be sure to gird
yourself with the wisdom, the stamina, and, above all, the great and
abiding love that you will need.

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