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===================
untitled - Love's Distant Shore? by Rebecca Stancil
Copyright 2007 Rebecca Stancil All rights reserved.
Incomplete draft MF, Rom, DS? Ped? First? Preg?
Chapter 01
"What do you think about?" I asked my husband softly.
We were lying in bed, him on his back and me on my side. I had my left
leg over his thigh and my left hand on his chest. Our bodies were
cooling, damp and sticky, and I could feel him inside my sex. He'd
filled me with his sperm once again and it was the best feeling in the
world for me. It made me complete, the afterwards, even more than when
his cock was reaching for my womb. It was the remains of our
lovemaking that I liked.
"Hmmm?" He was sleepy, the way men are after sex.
"I was reading a magazine." I shrugged, knowing it was silliness on my
part. "About how men fantasize during sex."
"Oh." He smiled. "Cosmo again?"
"It was all they had." I giggled, snuggling closer as he shifted a
little, getting comfortable. My husband is a large man and I'm so
small, we fit together well.
"Hairdresser?"
"I didn't get my hair done." I mocked a pout, but he was only teasing
me. He knew I'd been to see my gynecologist, getting only enough good
news to keep me from crying. I wasn't completely infertile, just
mostly, even with the pills and diet and the timing and...
"Yeah, I know." He turned his face so he could kiss my blonde hair.
"So, what do you think about when we do it?" I persisted.
"Uhhh..." He cleared his throat and I waited. "The Yankees, mostly...You
know...Baseball."
"Liar!" I laughed.
"No, seriously, they're having a rough year..." Kurt loved to tease me
and I loved his sense of humor, usually.
"Come on, please?" I sighed. "I really want to know."
"Why?" He almost laughed, the way he does, and I moved my hand down to
feel his cock, soft now, and sticky against his skin.
"I won't be mad." I promised.
"Ah..." He did laugh then.
"I'll tell you what I think about." I offered, massaging his penis
gently, just stroking it with my long red fingernails really.
"I know what you think about, Kris." His left arm, the one I was
laying on, was behind me and I could feel his fingers on my back.
"Yeah." I shrugged. I'd already told him that all I ever imagined was
his sperm finding one of my precious eggs and giving us a baby.
"What did the doctor say?" He asked and we hadn't brought it up, but
now was as good a time as any, so I told him.
"...One chance in a hundred." I finished half a minute later, because
there really was very little to say.
"Okay." He nodded and we were quiet for a little bit.
We'd looked into artificial insemination, but the problem, my problem,
wasn't with my fallopian tubes. Kurt's sperm was reaching my ovum, it
was just that my eggs weren't receptive, to use my doctor's phrase.
Even fertilizing my egg outside the body, in a test tube, so to speak,
had a very small chance of success. Too small for the expense, which
was considerable, but we were saving for it anyway. Some people saved
for vacations, or houses, or cars...Kurt and I were saving for a chance
at making a baby. One in ten was better than one in a hundred, wasn't
it? It felt like a sure thing to me sometimes, but mostly I was just
sad.
"You have to cheer me up now." I finally said.
"Sure." Kurt gave me a squeeze and his cock was semi-hard under my
fingers.
We were barely twenty-three, our birthdays just a few days apart,
which I'd taken as a good omen on our first date, and still newlyweds
by the standards of our friends, just approaching our second
anniversary. Out of college finally and both of us working good jobs,
it should have been perfect, and it almost was.
"So come on, tell me what you really think about." I was stroking him
now, because Kurt was hard for me again. His cock was long and thick
and hot, I liked his maleness.
"Ohhh...How about if I sing for you?" He suggested playfully and I
frowned.
"Kurt, come on. I told you I won't be mad, I know you think about
something besides me." I reached lower to feel his balls.
There was nothing wrong down there; he'd been checked and his sperm
was vigorous, which is another one of those funny technical terms.
Vigorous, healthy sperm, that's what my husband had. When I remembered
the two years I'd taken birth control pills while we'd dated, it
almost made me cry at the irony of it. I was a birth control pill, all
by myself just laying there.
"Well, maybe you'll laugh." Kurt was turning on his left side to face
me. "My dad warned me about talking to girls about stuff like this."
"He did?" I smiled and wondered if I'd believe him. The bedside lights
were on and his brown eyes were warm. He liked to look at me when we
had sex and I didn't mind.
"Oh yeah." Kurt leaned close for a kiss and his lips were dry on mine,
soft and smooth. I let his tongue tease mine for a moment.
"Do you think about something?" I licked my lips. "Or someone?"
"Uhhh...Yes." Kurt grinned and his right hand was down on my hip,
stroking my skin and moving slowly towards my ass.
"Oh, I don't like this." I sighed.
"I think of you mostly." He told me seriously and Kurt was pulling my
body even closer than we already were.
I pressed his cock down, between my spread legs so that the shaft
would ride across my sex, already wet with our earlier orgasms. My
distended labia were split along the length of him and it felt nice
like that, no penetration, just my pussy riding his cock as we barely
moved together. I had my leg over him and his hand was on my small
round ass, his fingers in the crease of my buttocks, moving down to
press his finger against my anus. I liked that a lot, having my ass
played with and even anal sex, sometimes, was very good for me. I
liked being the submissive woman to my dominant man.
"But not always." I smiled and my mouth was close to his chest,
because I am so much smaller than him.
"You're not going to let it go, are you?" His cock was dripping now,
leaking precum and I could feel it against my flushed skin.
"I'm stubborn." I kissed his right nipple, the pierced one. My left
nipple was pierced and we had matching gold rings. It was a college
thing and we'd called them our wedding rings, until we'd gotten real
ones.
"Like a mule." He sighed.
"I'll tell you something bad." I said a minute later, while Kurt was
kissing my ear and making me shiver.
"What?" He whispered.
"Sometimes..." I reached down because it was time; I needed him inside
me again. "Uh...Mmmm..." I rolled my hips a little, feeding the head of
Kurt's large cock into my ready pussy. "...Okay..." I nodded and Kurt gave
me a little push, sinking inside me slowly.
"Yeah..." He held my ass tight and his hand was big, covering my butt. I
loved him because he was big and strong and so much else besides, but
that especially that; my protector, my man.
"Sometimes I think about you with someone else." I told him, letting
him see as deep into my blue eyes as he wanted to.
"Someone else?" He blinked at that, moving his hips slowly.
"Yeah." I was confessing, just because he wouldn't.
"You mean when we have sex, you think, what...You're someone else?" He
was smiling, trying to understand, or possibly teasing me.
"No." I giggled, and we were moving slow so I could feel his cock
inside my well stretched cunt, moving just a few inches back and
forth, in and out slow. He was working that old sperm out of me,
finding the wetness with his fingers, bringing it to my ass and
moistening my anus with it.
"Well, what then?" He was curious now, finally.
"I think about you with another woman." I said. "Having sex, like
this."
"Okay." He shrugged with his eyebrows. "What are you doing while..."
"I don't know." I laughed and wriggled my ass against his finger,
feeling my pussy full and enjoying it. "Nothing, it doesn't matter."
"Huh." He pushed against my asshole with a gentle, constant pressure
making me moan softly as his middle finger penetrated my tight
sphincter.
"Don't you want to know who?" I asked, a little breathlessly as my
tight butt opened reluctantly.
"Well, of course." He chuckled. "I just don't want to seem eager."
"Ummm...." I closed my eyes for a moment. "That feels good."
"Does it?" Kurt kissed me and I couldn't answer. He knew I loved the
sensation of my husband fingering my ass while we fucked. Something
about it just felt really good for me.
"Tina." I said after we broke our kiss, even before I took the breath
of cool air I needed.
"What?" Kurt swallowed and he was a little red faced from our kiss
which had been long and deep.
"I think about you having sex with Tina." I laughed and I blushed, but
he couldn't tell because I was already so warm all over.
"The girl across the hall, Tina?" Kurt was acting very surprised and I
wondered who he thought I'd been thinking of.
"Yeah." I nodded and then I felt self-conscious. "I mean, I know she's
young and everything, but...I don't know...I just..."
I didn't know why I thought of that, of her. Tina was just thirteen,
barely thirteen by less than a month, and our neighbor in the
apartment building we lived in. She was exotic and dark, with long
black hair and deep blue eyes, unlike mine which were more grey, hers
were like a bright summer sky. Tall and lithe for her age, Tina was
already pretty and in a few more years she'd be truly beautiful.
"She's not just young, Kris." My husband narrowed his eyes. "She's a
kid."
"I know." I bit my bottom lip, which was always a sure sign of guilt.
"I told you it was bad."
Kurt had stopped moving, his lodged cock deep inside me. He was big
all around, physically, intellectually, even spiritually, I thought.
It had been so easy to fall in love with the man. We'd talked about so
many things, everything it seemed, but this was new; my confession
that I was a pedophile in some strange way. How else could I explain
this desire to see my husband making love to a child of thirteen? Kurt
wouldn't understand this, and how could he when I didn't understand it
myself?
"Are you angry?" I whispered, afraid to move against him. Kurt's penis
was still hard, still inside me, and he held me tight, but that was
all.
"No." He replied reassuring me and it spurred him to give his cock a
short hard thrust. "I just...Why her?"
"I don't know." I answered truthfully. "I haven't thought about it,
you know, like trying to understand it."
"I think I need to understand." Kurt said. "You can tell me."
"Okay." I swallowed hard and kissed his neck. Kurt wasn't going to
push me away, he just wanted to know.
"Why Tina?" He repeated and then added, "Is it just Tina, mean..."
"Yeah." I nodded, rolling my hips slightly to work that cock around
inside me. "I don't know any other girls her age, so maybe..."
"So maybe if you did..."
"It's her age, yeah." I decided. "She's never been touched. Not kissed
or been in love...Real love with a man..."
"Then why not um, Shelly..." My husband asked.
"Shannon." I corrected him, meaning the nine year old down the hall.
"Right, Shannon. Why not her?"
"She's too young." I shivered as Kurt brought his fingers back to my
ass, playing wit me there while I worked my sex on his cock slowly.
"Too young." My husband chuckled. "That's good."
"She's not, uh..." I sighed, trying to think. "...She's not fertile."
"You want me to make Tina pregnant?" He tilted his head down to stare
into my eyes.
"Yeah that's part of it." I agreed quickly. "That's most of it."
"What else?"
"What else?" I asked myself. "Um, her size, I mean she's like me, even
a little smaller than me. I like that. And innocent, yeah...I want to
see her the first time."
"Losing her virginity..."
"Becoming a woman." I nodded, moving more eagerly now as I was
understanding more. "Pregnant and fucked and changed forever."
"Fucked?" Kurt chuckled because I so rarely swore, even during sex.
"And I want to watch and be watched." I was talking quickly, before I
lost it like a good dream. "I want you both to see me..."
"See you..."
"...Helpless." I kissed his chest. "I want you to love her and make a
baby in her while I watch helplessly."
"Why?" My husband pushed his thick finger in my ass hard, making me
wince.
"Because I'm...Worthless." I gasped, cumming suddenly with an unexpected
rush of pleasure in my husband's arms.
End of One
Two
"Kris..."
"Hey, morning sleepyhead." I smiled at my husband, standing near the
microwave and waiting for our bagels to get all hot.
"Good morning." He moved behind me, smelling fresh and damp from his
shower.
He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss through the turmoil
of my golden hair. He was dressed for work already and so was I, in a
manor of speaking, although the only thing I was wearing was my
bathrobe. I made a soft purring sound as he squeezed me nice.
"Your coffee's there on the table already." I told him, and this was
very much our morning routine.
"Mmmm...Thank you." He kissed me again and let me go.
A few minutes later I was sitting with him, eating our bagels and
drinking our coffee. Kurt was looking through the previous evening's
newspaper, but just to check the box scores real quick. Once baseball
season was over he wouldn't even do that much, neither of us were very
much interested in the world at large.
"Are we going out tonight?" I asked, because it was Friday and we
usually did, if only for dinner.
"Do you want to?" Kurt put his paper down with a soft rustle and
picked up his coffee. "What do you want to do?"
"I don't know." I took a deep breath and stretched a little. "Let's go
dancing."
"Sure." He smiled at that and there was something on his mind, I could
see it in his eyes; he wanted to say something.
"What?" I tore off a bit of bagel and put it slowly in my mouth.
"Last night, what you said..."
"Oh." I felt my face growing warm. "That was..."
"...You're not worthless, Kris."
"I know." I nodded. "Let's, uh....It's too bright for that, okay?"
Kurt looked at me for a moment and I felt very self-conscious about
it. The morning sun was streaming through the kitchen windows and my
memory of the night before was something like a confessional, dark and
remote and secret.
"Yeah." My husband finally nodded and then smiled and looked at his
watch. "I better go."
"Okay." I agreed, even though it was a little early for that. He
kissed me as I sat there and then he was gone.
I sat in my studio, but I was hardly in a mood for work. I did
illustrations for publishers, books mostly, but magazines as well,
some freelance stuff here and there. I had a nice contract with
Harlequin, doing covers for the romance books that they churned out by
the dozens every month. I'd lucked into the job through a friend and
it paid well enough. Sitting in a room surrounded by paintings of
beautiful couples embracing their tragic love was a real chore though.
That and the mind-numbing repetition that I hadn't fully appreciated
before; this wasn't a job anyone spent a lifetime doing, I was sure.
I looked at my easel and frowned. I'd paint later and it was almost
finished anyway, something called 'Love's Distant Shore' which meant
very little to me. That's all I had to work with usually, the title
and maybe a paragraph to summarize the main characters general
appearance and a setting. This one was on a beach, of course. A
striking man and his fey woman, holding each other against an
approaching tempest. It was overdramatic and lurid with promise, the
way millions of women liked it. I even got fan mail.
"Margie." The voice on my phone said, sounding old and distracted,
both of which she was.
"Hey Marge, it's Kris." I rubbed my forehead, not sure why I was doing
this. "I need a favor."
"Hey honey, what do you need?" She asked.
Marge ran a modeling agency and over the last six months I'd become a
very good customer. Good enough that I could skip the secretaries and
agents and go straight to the top. I didn't do it very often, usually
going through the same process everyone else did, browsing the online
portfolios and making an appointment, usually two models for a full
day, or sometimes two, but I tended to work quickly anyway.
"I'm in a bit of a rush." I said. "I need a girl, um...Young, real
young."
"Uh-huh, today you mean?"
"Yeah, like five minutes ago." I laughed softly. "Sorry. It kind of
snuck up on me."
"That happens." The woman laughed too. "Uh...What do you need? Young
might be tough on short notice."
"That's why I called you, Margie."
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
I didn't know what I was doing, or why, but I had my suspicions and I
closeted them away, unwilling to consider them. I was doing what I
needed to and that was enough. I showered and dressed quickly, not
knowing how much time I'd have. There was nothing special about it,
only the good manners I'd been brought up with. I pulled on an old
pair of jeans, spattered and stained with years of paint, and a t-
shirt. Brushed my hair and tied it back with a rubber-band, and I
waited.
"Hello." I smiled, opening the door at half past ten to find the girl
Margie had sent over. "Come on in."
"Hi." She was beautiful and all of fifteen probably, which was a
little older than I'd wanted. "I'm Amy...This is my mom."
"Hi, I'm Kris." I stood aside for them and it wasn't the first time
I'd used a child model.
Mom was there to make sure I really was who Margie said I was. She had
the paperwork, the contract which I filled in and signed, mother and
daughter too. It was a very real business and all legitimate and I was
paying a premium for taking Amy out of school so she could sit around
in my apartment all day. Mom didn't stay very long; she was satisfied
and I'd come with the highest endorsement from the agency. She was
going to get her hair done, or do some shopping, or meet up with a
friend for lunch. I didn't concern myself overly much with her.
"Do you want something to drink before we start?" I asked the girl.
"Do you need the bathroom or anything?"
"No, I'm okay." Amy was looking around the apartment and I was looking
at her.
"How old are you?" I asked. Her contract had said fourteen, but I
wanted to hear her say it.
"Almost fifteen." Amy said over her shoulder. "Are you married?"
She was looking at the large wedding portrait framed on the bookcase
and I nodded.
"Yeah, that's my husband, Kurt." I said. "Come on, we'll go back this
way."
"He's cute." Amy said and followed me to the studio.
"Yeah, he is." I smiled and I went to work near the glass doors that
opened onto our small balcony.
I cleared an empty space, as my studio was a rather clustered place at
best. I had some cartons there with supplies and another with studies
and unfinished works filed haphazardly. I shoved all that aside and
opened the doors wide.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" I asked, just making small talk while Amy
waited.
"Have you seen my mom?" The girl giggled. "She'd have a heart attack
if I even talked to a boy."
"Yeah, mom's are like that." I smiled at her. "I need you to undress,
okay? Leave your bra on and your panties too, that's fine, and stand
over here..."
"I'm not wearing a bra." Amy shrugged. "Is that okay?"
"Yeah, that's okay." I nodded, going to my work table and finding my
camera, an old Polaroid.
Amy was just a little shorter than me, and I was hardly tall in any
case, just a little over five feet. Her long hair was brown, but once
she was in the direct sunlight I could see some red in it, a little
auburn and it was very pretty. It was wavy, curling at the ends, and
the girl wore it loose, which suited me just fine. Amy's body was
generous for her age and the girl wasn't shy at all. She undressed
quickly and I'd had plenty of experiences with models who were much
more picky when it came to undressing, wanting a screen and a robe and
all of that. I used the adjoining room, which was going to be our
nursery someday, maybe, for a dressing room when models demanded it. I
was happy that Amy was so relaxed.
Her skin was tanned all over as she stripped down to just her plain
white panties for me. Amy's breasts were small and puffy with big pink
nipples, he waist was soft and narrow with baby-fat on her hips and
tummy, giving her belly a pleasant and only slightly plump appearance
above the waistband of her underwear. Her thighs came together in the
middle and then separated just beneath the tight crotch of her panties
and I could make out the suggested form of the child's sex. She was
smooth and blemish free and with her fresh, heart-shaped face the girl
was very beautiful.
"Do you think anyone can see me?" Amy was looking past the balcony, at
the apartments and offices across the street.
"Oh, I don't think so." I said, not knowing for sure. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I guess so." She nodded.
"You won't have to stand there long." I promised her. "I just need
some pictures and then we can move you inside a little more."
"Okay." Amy agreed, but she didn't seem all that worried about it
anyway. I got the impression she might have enjoyed seeing a man
looking at her from one of the distant balconies.
I took two dozen pictures with the sun behind me, posing the girl in
variations of the general image I had in mind. Amy's legs were
slightly spread, her pelvis out and shoulders back, chin down only
slightly with her eyes open and up. Her left arm across her stomach,
just beneath her breasts, and the right arm close to her side, with
her hand up, fingertips touching her right shoulder. Amy's stance was
defiant, and she was offering herself plainly, but she was shy and
self-protective as well. There was a conflict within as a woman
struggling to emerge, seeking to escape the bonds of childhood. That
was what I wanted and Amy was giving it to me.
"Okay, turn around...Remember that pose...Turn..."
I took several pictures from behind, with that same pose, but Amy's
head turned so she could look over her shoulder at me. I adjusted her
panties, pulling the left side down slightly and tugging the thin
cotton back into the soft valley of her firm round ass. She had very
little baby-fat there and Amy didn't need it; her fourteen year old
butt was wonderfully pert. I finished the film, setting the photos in
a long line across my bench while I went for some juice.
"What kind of painting are you doing?" Amy asked me as I returned a
few minutes later.
She was looking at her pictures and they were just snapshots and I'd
never claimed to be a photographer, but the girl was very photogenic.
We looked at her pictures together, drinking orange juice, and I was
only a little surprised by how excited I was inside. I'd been feeling
it since I'd first decided to call Margie and every moment I spent
with Amy only made me more restless. She was beautiful, this girl, and
I wanted her. Not sexually, not for myself, but to see her with a man,
with my husband...That was the idea, the thought in my head and heart.
It was undeniable and I felt guilt gnawing at my soul.
"I'm doing a cover for a reprint of Lolita." I lied. "Have you read
that?"
"Lolita?" Amy shook her head and smiled. "What's it about?"
"Um, well, it's complicated." I laughed and my heart was beating
quickly. "It's about a girl, your age, I guess, and she has a
relationship with an older man."
"Like her dad?" Amy finished her juice and I took her glass, setting
it aside with mine.
"No, not her dad." I shook my head. "Here, you can pose right here
now. I'm going to do some sketches for awhile and then we'll have
lunch, okay?"
"Sure." Amy let me correct her pose and rolled my big leather chair
over, just sitting in it and doing pencil sketches across my knees. We
were quiet for a long time, half an hour at least, and it was
pleasant. I was able to focus more on the art and push my other
thoughts away, but not completely. I would draw the girl, her
shoulders and breasts, or her tummy and hips, and imagine my husband's
hands there, touching her. He was caressing the girl, kissing her neck
and whispering in her ear while I drew them and it made me quiver way
down deep between my thighs.
"So, what are you doing with all the money you make from modeling?" I
asked the girl, just making small talk and trying to distract myself.
"My mom makes me save it for college." Amy sighed. "She gives me an
allowance."
"That's not a bad idea." I smiled at her. "I went to college, it was
pretty fun."
"I guess." Amy didn't sound so sure. "I want to be a real model
though, or an actress."
"This isn't real modeling?" I teased her, but at seventy-five dollars
an hour it was a valid point.
"You know what I mean." She giggled and it made her almost unbearably
cute.
"Yeah." I nodded. "Lots of boys at college though. I met my husband
there."
"Really? My mom will make me go to an all girls one probably." She
frowned. "That's what my school is now."
"Nah." I shook my head, working fast to catch that giggle on my pad
before it faded from my mind's eye. "She just wants to let you grow up
a little more, I think."
"I'm pretty grown up already." Amy said. "She just treats me like a
little kid."
"Mom's do that.
"Like bringing me here; she's like my babysitter." Amy was letting it
all out. "Like she doesn't trust me, you know?"
"Well, I think she just wanted to meet me." I said. "There's a lot of
weird people in the world."
"Yeah." Amy shrugged. "I guess. How did you meet your husband? Was he
in one of your classes or something?"
"Something like that." I laughed. "He was a model, actually, for one
of my art classes."
"Oh yeah? He's a model?" Amy's hazel eyes got a little bigger at
that.
"Not anymore." I shook my head. "He's a draftsman, like an architect,
but he used to model in college."
"How come he stopped?" Amy wondered.
"Well, he just needed a little extra money." I shrugged. "He never
really wanted to do anything but design buildings and stuff."
"Oh." Amy looked a little disappointed at that news and I smiled.
"Let's take a break, okay?" I stretched a little. "Do you want to see
what Kurt looked like? I have some old drawings..."
"Sure, yeah." Amy was stretching too, but not complaining. Her pose
was an easy one and I hadn't been strict at all when she'd happened to
move.
"Okay, ummmm..." I had a number of big leather portfolios, most of them
bought second hand and well used. I reached for one and changed my
mind, pawing through them to grab another.
"You must have a lot of pictures." Amy had taken my chair and she spun
in it lazily.
"Yeah." I laughed. "I've been drawing and painting everyday since I
was about four years old. Here we go...No, stay there, you're okay."
I sat on the floor near Amy's feet, smiling up at her briefly as I
unlatched the old brown leather straps. Her feet were so close to me,
her little pink toes painted baby blue, and she smelled like bubble
bath, I thought, though I hadn't noticed it before. Her legs were
slightly spread, the chair creaking softly as she pushed with her
feet, turning it a few degrees one way and then back, her small
breasts rising and falling with every breath. I was sitting at her
feet, like a servant it suddenly seemed and I swallowed hard at the
thought.
"Uh, okay..." I could barely breathe and I knew what I was doing and I
knew why, and it was wrong.
I flipped open the portfolio and there on the very top was a
watercolor I'd done of Kurt. It wasn't from my art class, it was from
the bedroom we'd shared during our third year at college, our first
apartment together, and he was on the bed, naked and beautiful and
sleeping after our sex. I remembered that night so well and I'd been
tired, but so much in love that sleep was impossible. That's what the
picture was about, not a man sleeping, but a woman who loves him. I
thought of it as my first and best self-portrait and showing it to Amy
was as close as I'd come to confessing my dark desires.