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From: Incest Man <familyincestfamilyincest@yahoo.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.hetero,alt.sex.stories.d
Subject: "The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane" Part 3C
Date: Fri, 16 Dec 2005 13:20:49 -0800
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/marthaj.html
The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane
Part 3C
At the time, most of this went right past my very young level of
awareness-- -but I clearly understood that she was troubled. I knew
that I somehow had to stay with her and believe in her and help her
in some way. I wanted to bring indescribable pleasure and comfort
to her. She was making me feel loved and tickly now, and I wanted
desperately to do the same for her. I found the folds of her skirt
and tried to gather them up, but had a hard time; my hands were too
small. She stepped back, not letting go of my cock, and used her
free hand to lift her skirt. She spread her feet apart and looked
down while I massaged her mound over her panties.
"Ah, hon," she breathed. "You remembered just exactly how I like
you to do that."
As she had done, I slipped my hand under her waistband and found her
pubic hair and her soft folds. She was not wet yet. But she moved
one foot to open her legs more so I could find her crease.
I whispered, "I want to make you feel good." Now I hoped I was
learning to talk to her as she talked to me. I was beginning to
comprehend the nature of my own very young sensuality, realizing how
so much of it was mirrored by Martha Jane, and learning to try and
contact those elements within her. I was not yet very certain about
any of it. But now I had glimmerings of the giddy adrenal rush
generated by the allure of the forbidden that held us and our secret
world together. And I was beginning to understand as well the
paradoxical, inexplicable comfort we both experienced by giving in
to, rather than resisting, our hunger. In short, I was getting
older and more sexual, and I realized more than ever how complex
were the emotional and physical needs that bound us. It was scary.
It was a lot like rushing blind across the avenue the way I used to,
traffic headed at me in all six lanes, not sure if or how I could
make it safely to the other side-- -but knowing, from where I stood
at that moment, I would not and could not run back.
Martha Jane moved her head slightly, toward me. Her lips touched my
ear. Her mouth opened and I heard the thin saliva break as she
licked my earlobe. And then my neck. Under one hand I felt the
skin on the back of her neck move and flex as she reached farther
with her tongue and licked behind my ear, then down, then into my
neck again. Under my other hand, she was getting wet.
She pulled her head back, smiling and looking down to watch my hand
working between her legs in the dark. She spread her knees apart a
little more. She softly hissed, "Put your finger in me..." I found
her hot opening, now growing wetter, and slowly inserted what came
to me naturally-- -my longest finger. She urged quietly, "All the
way in, hon, deep..." Her eyes closed as she sighed a trembling,
breathy "Aaahh..."
"Like that?"
"Yes, baby."
I flexed my finger in her. I never ceased to be amazed at the way
the inner Martha Jane could suck on my fingers in her. "Did that
feel good?"
"Bend your finger again, inside...Yes...keep doing that..."
We continued for a while, but it soon became uncomfortable standing
up. She broke away and got undressed. Before climbing into bed she
removed my T-shirt and underwear and had me sit up against a pillow
that she placed against the headboard. Then, naked in the
moonlight, she lay before me on her tummy with her head in my lap
and started sucking me. She sucked gently, wetly, slowly, immersing
me in her very hot mouth and holding me there. Then slowly she
withdrew, sucking upward, and came off me with a loud swallow of the
wetness she had re-sucked off me, and sighed lasciviously. "You
feel so good in my mouth. You fit all the way inside."
She licked her lips and sucked me again in the same way, gently but
fully, flattening her tongue along the underside and pressing
slightly, then started bobbing her head slowly and rhythmically. I
was amazed and hypnotized. I began to be aware of her physical
beauty and the depths of the desperate lust that lurked in both of
us, there in the dim shaft of light that fell across her naked back
as she licked and sucked.
She stopped and asked, "Do you know what I'm doing?"
I just stared at her. Of course I knew what she was doing, though
she had never done it so gluttonously. But I didn't know what it
was called.
"I'm suckin' you off. Do you like it when I say that?" Once again,
her eyes had a strange glint and her voice sounded inordinately
wicked.
"Yes," I whispered back, suddenly realizing how breathless I was.
And I was doing some hard, nervous swallowing of my own. "You know
I do. Especially the way you do it." I was truly flabbergasted
that there were so many ways to bring pleasure to each other.
She returned to her sucking, which she continued for quite some
time, breaking to gently fist my wetted cock. The cloying
sensuality of her motions and words caused me to make what I know to
be a seriously wicked grin as I watched her pump me. "That's good,"
I whispered.
She looked up. "Yeah?" She grinned back.
I grinned again too, into her eyes. "Yeah. Keep doin' it."
"Yeah, honey."
"Ah..."
"Feel it, baby...enjoy it..."
And once again, her eyes and her words and her voice held me
mesmerized. She herself seemed hypnotized by my own spellbound
reaction. We fell into unalloyed devilishness, as if demons within
us had generated a chain reaction neither of us could not stop. She
wouldn't let up. The lust in her eyes and her voice met mine, mine
met hers, and they fused. We were glued to it, tangled it in. I
kept hearing the nuns and the aunts and relatives warning me, but
all their screaming voices together could not drown the tantalizing
whispers of Martha Jane. And the more my eyes lit up with pleasure,
the more Martha Jane saw it and gloated on it.
She gave a low, dirty chuckle and breathed, "You like it. You like
being like this with me." She kept looking into my eyes, directly
into them, into my cornea and through the optic nerves and into my
brain. As she wetly stroked my twitching cock I heard only the wet
slush of her hand in the hot spit she had left on me, and her
endless, libidinous whispers. "You like it just as much as I do,
don't you, I can tell. I like it too. I like watching your face
while I make you feel good. I love your dick. I love touching it.
I love milking it, and sucking..." She pumped and then sucked and
then pumped me again. I was feeling extremely strange and giddy and
I knew she did too. A dark wicked wave seemed to wash into the room
and lick me squarely in the scrotum under my balls, then lick upward
along my spine and settle in the back of my head. I could see the
reflection of these new and growing impulses in her own eyes, I
could hear her voice echoing my own rising lechery. We fed it, and
fed on it, helpless in the dark and the moonlight. She fisted me
loosely now, looking up at me. Distinctly I felt and saw her own
eyes catch the glint of lust in mine, and she leered and fisted and
kept whispering. "I feel you liking it, I feel you jumpin' in my
hand. Such a beautiful, hard, sweet little cock. It gets so big.
How does it get so big from being so little?"
"I like you making it big," I managed to whisper back, but only
after fighting for the breath to say it. I took a deep breath and
gasped brazenly, "I like watching you watch me."
Her eyes rose, surprised and please that I was joining her in this
hypnotic whirl. "I'm so glad you like this. Want me to suck you
some more?"
"Yes, it feels so good."
"I want to suck you and I want you to finger fuck me, like last
time."
Uh-oh! A new term in the ever-expanding lexicon. I was taken by
surprise. Another Martha Jane word. At that point I somehow knew
there would be an explanation forthcoming. Contented, and learning
for the first time what the word "turn-on" would later come to mean,
I let her suck me and we continued our lurid whispers and glances.
Of course, I did not cum. This was fortunate, in a way, since
literally I didn't know what I was missing. But at one point a pang
of sensual tickling shot through the length of my shaft, and I felt
an oozing from me that mixed with her spit and slickened it. I
wondered if that meant I was cumming.
But the feeling passed too quickly for me to stop and ask questions
about it. For Martha Jane had risen to a half-sitting position
beside me, her head against the headboard. Her left leg lay on the
mattress between us, bent at the knee toward me so her inner thigh
was spread to expose her slit; and she bent her right knee upward,
keeping her foot on the bed, using her heel to spread her right leg
wide and exposing even more of her nakedness. She shoved her hips
forward so that I, lying beside her, could fully see her auburn tuft
and the widening, smooth-lipped slit below. With one hand she
spread the silken hair that partly covered her, and wantonly
instructed me on how to touch her clit and how to insert my finger
and how to search far up inside her and find a magic bundle of
muscle and nerve that made her arch her hips and sigh lustily and
made her nipples swell in my mouth, and she looked down, leering and
watching me please her and holding herself open for me, telling me
this was her cunt, and she said that when she felt really nasty as
she did now that she wanted me to call it her cunt, and as I pulled
her clit and stroked the tender place far inside her wetness, her
words and her voice and her sighs slid into a barely audible stream
of hissed obscenities.
And I remembered doing this to her before and making her cum, but
now I knew she wanted me to call it finger fucking and that she
liked the word and so did I, and she liked me watching her on her
side with one leg bent between us and the other with one knee raised
and resting spread away from her so that she could use the leverage
of that leg to raise her cunt toward me and we could watch me finger
fuck her, and she liked watching while I did it, and her raised knee
soon fell and she dropped back into the pillows and spread herself
flat and gave herself over to the long cum that seemed to be on its
way, and for a long while she simply lay and enjoy it and sucked on
my finger in her. And finally I gave her the smashing, paralyzing
orgasm she wanted, her head pressed far into the pillow and her neck
straining, her arms and legs stiffened against the white sheets and
her nipples jutting upward as she threw her head back and suffered
silently the sweet agony I was giving her, taut and stiff for what
seemed to me a perilously long time. Her hips gave a slight jerk,
and I expected her to slide into her swooning relaxed state, but
instead her head snapped farther back into the pillow and her teeth
showed in the dark and she whimpered "Oh!" in sudden surprise, and
then "Ah!" and she came again, again, again as I moved my fingers
in the way I knew was just right for her, never for a moment wanting
to lose my way in giving her pleasure, caring for her, protecting
her in her utter nakedness, striving to make it perfect and right
for her. And finally, with a great sigh and a whimper that I know
could be heard out in the dark street beyond our window, she relaxed
with a final lurch of her hips, and began breathing in waves, then
breathing regularly and deeply, and she made the same sounds she
made when she cried, but now they were sounds of exhaustion and
release.
I licked her nipple, my soaked hands now lightly massaging her outer
lips and inner thighs, and she put a hand on my arm and cried, "so
good!", and on reaching down to touch my cock she found wetness
there, a smear from inside me, and she opened her eyes and looked at
me and then looked at my cock and reached down and kissed the tip,
moaning "oh your cum, your sweet cum!" She licked it off me and it
tickled terribly and I felt deep in my balls the oozing of another
smear, which she milked out of me with a long slow pull upward on my
dick, and she licked that off too with tender relish, as if even the
smallest beginnings of my cumming were as precious as water to a
parched throat. And then, out of breath and with a final gasp, she
literally fell into me and hugged me and held on and went straight
to sleep.
We slept like that for a while, with her splayed over me as if
knocked unconscious. She awoke with a start and looked at the
clock. "Darn!" she whispered frantically, "they'll be coming
home!"
Quickly she dressed. As she did, she caught me smiling at her from
my pillow and she told me, "Speedy, you are remarkable. My god, I
wish I could tell someone about this. They'd never believe me..."
She looked at me as if she were in shock. "How do you do this to
me? Where did you learn to do this?"
"Do what?" I asked, truly puzzled.
"You know what I'm talkin' about," she scolded mildly, hopping a
little to get her shoes on. She sat on the floor and tied her
laces. "You made cum in my mouth, too, didn't you?"
"I...think so."
"Listen," she said earnestly, finishing her shoes and getting up to
bend over me. "I want you to grow up and cum. I can't keep doing
this all by myself. Do you have any idea what you just did to me?"
She gathered up the wads of Kleenex and started straightening the
place quickly, mumbling, "I didn't even know anything like this was
possible. Where in the world did you learn how to do it like that?"
"You taught me," I said.
She caught herself, pausing as if startled, and went back to her
hurried straightening. "I'm just talking, hon. You go to sleep.
Your Mama will be home soon."
She returned to the living room and her books. The light in there
snapped on. I rolled over and looked out the window. I did not
understand the significance of this nor the problems it would cause
later. But I had experienced an unusually intense level of
eroticism which I feared and yet didn't fear, something apparently
as new and exotic to her as it was to me.
Continued...
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/marthaj.html