Usual disclaimer:  This story involves sexual subject matter.  If you aren't old 
enough to read this, go home!  Don't blame me if you have problems which result 
from reading further.

Copyright by Jeff Zephyr (jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2000.  Please don't distribute 
in an altered form, or with any charges for acquisition.

This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons is 
unintentional and strictly coincidental. Any real people, places, or things 
mentioned in this story do not appear with permission, and any representations 
of them should not be interpreted as being in any way based on reality.

If reception of this work is illegal due to your age or other repressive local 
regulations, liability for downloading it is your problem, not mine. 



 Angelina, the Naive Nymphette (Part 2) (F-solo, exhib), M-solo, MF oral)
- by Jeff Zephyr
(jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2000.  All Commercial Rights Reserved.



  Early one morning, Angelina woke to find Sister Abigail in a strange mood.  
The Doctor was there that day, too, which was unusual.  When the girl asked what 
was wrong, both assured her that everything was fine. Angelina was sure that 
they were lying, but she didn't know what it was about.

  The Doctor examined her, as was common for her visits, even though this wasn't 
scheduled. Angelina had reported no signs of illness or injury, which worried 
her.  After finishing the exam, the Doctor gave her some medicine, pills in a 
circular package, and gave stern instructions for Angelina to use them.

  "Take one each day, in the sequence shown on the package.  Don't skip any 
days.  Tell us immediately if you should do that."

  "What are these for, Doctor?" Angelina asked quietly.  "Is there something 
wrong with me?"

  "Why, no, Angelina.  These will help keep you healthy, especially when you 
leave this place."

  "Leave?"

  "Sister Abigail can explain about that.  I don't know when that might happen, 
and you shouldn't work yourself up about it."

  Despite the Doctor's hints, and Angelina's persistence to the point of brief 
imprisonment, Sister Abigail refused to discuss the details of Angelina's 
departure, beyond the bare fact that "Yes, you will leave here, my girl.  Not 
long now."

  Not long wasn't days, though, and after three weeks, Angelina had almost 
forgotten.  Still, Sister Abigail spent more time alone, and allowed Angelina 
far more free time than before.  Since it was still warm, she spent most of that 
time outdoors, unclothed whenever she was away from the house.  It was in that 
condition that the girl observed a large, long, black car approach the house on 
the road.  Angelina had never covered up before when visitors came, though the 
delivery women rarely got close enough to speak with her.  Nor was she 
deliberately trying to expose herself.  It was just natural for her, part of her 
playing.  Still, when the car came close, she ran off, in order to get back to 
her clothes.  Undressed, Sister Abigail would chastise her, at the least, if she 
came to the house, and Angelina wanted to see the new visitors.

  When she arrived at the house, Angelina got a shock.  The new visitors were 
men.  Two of them, one older, but not much older than Sister Christy, perhaps 
30, and the other was a bit younger than her friend, in his early twenties 
perhaps.  The first man fit the descriptions and pictures she'd seen more 
precisely, as he wore a suit, had short hair, and was clean-shaven, though he 
wasn't much taller than her.  The second was taller, and had hair on his face.  
She'd read the definition of the word beard, but had never seen a picture of one 
before.

  Angelina didn't know that the two men had received just as much of a shock, 
seeing her nude by the road, then running into the woods as the car past.  The 
older one was a lawyer named Mr. Smith, and though he was briefed on the girl's 
case, seeing her in person, unclad, put a whole new perspective on the 
situation, one that he didn't know how to deal with.  The younger man, Mr. 
Thomas, was torn between acting his role as a responsible chauffeur, and letting 
his feelings for the very attractive girl show.

  Sister Abigail was out in front of the house too, and arguing with Mr. Smith.

  She said, "I don't care what you say.  I have no plans to leave this place.  
I'm happy here.  Angelina doesn't really need me anymore, and Letitia is in no 
position to give me orders, not now.  I'm not the right person to finish her 
schooling, to teach her to be an adult away from this place.  That's my final 
word!"

  Mr. Smith looked upset at that, but said, "I'd really like it if you could 
come.  I'm not sure how to deal with the girl either."

  The men hadn't noticed Angelina come up behind them, but Sister Abigail did.  
The old woman said "Angelina, come over here!"

  The girl did that, slowly.  She wasn't sure what to think, except that 
somehow, she knew that the departure from this place had finally come.

  Sister Abigail confirmed that, saying "I don't know if you've always been 
happy here, but I've done my best to raise you well, to keep you innocent, yet 
not unlearned.  Mr. Smith is here to take you to your home.  I know, you may 
think of this as home, and I'd love to have you return, if you wish.  But your 
Great Grandmother Letitia sent you here, to have a chance at life free of the 
problems of the world.  It is time for you to see that world, now."

  Angelina was sad, almost crying. She didn't quite know why that should be, 
since there were times when she dreamed of leaving, if she only knew where to 
go. She asked, "I'm going to live with Grandmother?"

  "No, child," Sister Abigail answered.  "You will live at her house, but she is 
dead now, gone to her reward.  Mr. Smith will take care of you now, and make 
sure that you are treated as your Great Grandmother wished.  Trust them, and 
remember all that you have learned here."

  Angelina was led into the house, where much to her surprise, she found her 
things packed in bags ready to travel.  The change was sudden, but she wasn't 
disposed to fight it.  Part of her was curious, part afraid.  Mr. Smith looked 
kind, but a man in person looked so strange, compared to a woman.  Mr. Thomas 
had an odd look on his face, and seemed to be staring at her.  Angelina wasn't 
sure she liked it, but part of her felt warm, invigorated from all of the 
attention.

  The introductions were awkward at first.  Mr. Smith seemed stiff and formal, 
calling Angelina by her last name, which she barely used.  Angelina didn't think 
to ask his first name, either, not that day.  She didn't mind calling him Mister 
Smith, just as she didn't mind always calling Sister Abigail by that name, never 
omitting the title.

  "It is a new situation, an unusual one for me," Mr. Smith told Angelina. "I 
will be your guardian, according to your Great Grandmother's will.  This wasn't 
something I was expecting to deal with, even though she was so old.  I'll try my 
best to help you, and take care of you, and do what your Grandmother wanted."

  "I never really knew her," Angelina answered.  "Can't I stay here?"

  Angelina didn't really want to stay.  But leaving was such a shock, even with 
the warning she'd had, that it seemed safer to wait.

  "I didn't really know her that well myself, Angelina," Mr. Smith answered, 
smiling.  "But Sister Abigail is getting older, and it is time for you to learn 
more of the world.  You cannot live here forever, and there are things that you 
simply will have to learn.  Important things, and this isolated farm can't give 
them to you.  I hope you'll like your new home."

  Angelina felt that Mr. Smith was kind, a friendly man, despite the initial 
aloofness.  His smile was nice, much like Sister Christy's.  The other man, Mr. 
Thomas, had stood at the end of the room, saying nothing, but he also seemed 
interesting.  Something was melting inside Angelina.  She didn't know what the 
sensation was, or how to describe it.  But she wanted to get away from here, to 
live elsewhere, to see other people, more people.  To be free.  She didn't think 
of it that way, not using that word. She wanted to have friends, and Mr. Smith 
looked like the first new one she'd ever had, since Christy.

  "There will be other people there?"

  "Lots of people," Mr. Smith said, laughing.  "You may need some time to get 
used to them, but we'll be near a city, with so many people you probably 
couldn't count them."

  "I can count perfectly, Mr. Smith," Angelina said, pouting a bit.  She was 
very good at arithmetic, and was proud of that, especially as Sister Abigail 
praised her for that, unlike most of her other studies.

  "Of course you can, girl.  What I meant was, there are many people, thousands, 
more than you could easily count."

  "Oh."  Angelina answered, then stood silent for a minute.  Then, she moved up 
to Mr. Smith and hugged him, saying "I like you, Mr. Smith.  Can we be friends?"

  Mr. Smith sputtered a bit, trying to speak.  The sudden contact made his 
temperature rise, especially contact with her breasts, which did not seem 
secured with undergarments.  Combined with a flashing memory of her nakedness 
from his arrival, he felt a most un-guardian like response to her touch.  
Composing himself, without pushing her away, he told her "I like you too, and am 
glad that you like me.  Think of me much as you did Sister Abigail, please."

  "I don't know if I can do that," Angelina said, her breath hitting his face.  
"You don't look much like her at all."

  Her tone was so serious, that Mr. Smith had a hard time not laughing in 
reaction.  But he held back, letting only a wide grin show his feelings.  

  "I may not look like her, but it is my job to take care of you, help you out, 
and get you prepared for your new life.  I'm not a teacher like her, but you'll 
have other teachers to help you."

  "That will be fun!" Angelina said, smiling, her eyes bright with excitement. 

  With that, Mr. Thomas commented on the long trip ahead of them.  Gathering 
Angelina's belongings, which were not much, just a few clothes and some personal 
mementos, into the car, they soon were on their way.

  The big car was a limousine, and Angelina and Mr. Smith sat in back, as Mr. 
Thomas drove them down the road.  Angelina had never followed the road all the 
way to its end, and her attempts had left her very tired.  During the time on 
the bumpy, unpaved paths leading away from the farm, Angelina moved from her 
place opposite Mr. Smith to sitting next to him.  Soon, she was leaning against 
him.  She liked doing that, and was surprised when he did not suggest that she 
move away, or withdraw himself.

  On his part, he didn't know what he should do with a girl like Angelina.  Her 
isolation gave her an innocence that he had a hard time imagining from her file, 
and yet, in person, she was like no one he'd ever met.  Her sexual 
attractiveness was all unconscious, nothing deliberate, and for that reason, it 
was even harder to ignore than a deliberate attempt at seduction.  Yet he was 
responsible for the girl, her legal guardian, and an adult too old for her.  To 
further deter action, he had a girlfriend, who certainly would not take well 
to... whatever it was he might do with this girl.

  Pushing her away, though, seemed like a horrid thing to do to her.  His 
briefing on her situation disturbed him.  Taking a girl from her home, keeping 
her isolated, in order to raise her in pure innocence, seemed evil, despite its 
purportedly good purpose.  The girl had little contact with people.  Sister 
Abigail was cold, indifferent, never hugging the girl, barely touching her.  An 
adult man could resist letting a child, even a well-proportioned teenage girl, 
arouse him into unwanted actions, while still giving her basic human comforts.  
Or so he told himself.

  After about an hour, they finally reached a road that was smooth, if not well 
paved.  Angelina had talked little, often staring out the windows, or at Mr. 
Smith, during this time.  When she started talking, it was like a dam breaking.  
She had a million questions, about the world, his life, other people, and 
everything they were doing.  Mr. Smith tried to answer, and soon, found himself 
enjoying his conversation with the girl.  She knew a lot, more than himself in 
some areas, including science and religion.  But much she knew only in theory.  
Television, telephones, radio -- the music playing in the car startled her -- 
she knew in theory, from books, but had never seen.  As they reached places with 
other cars, she'd see other people, and stare at them as they passed.

  When they stopped for fuel, Angelina realized that she had another need, to 
relieve herself of excess water.  Mr. Thomas had obtained some sweet drinks and 
food for them, but first, she had to deal with the situation.  Her manner 
surprised both men.

  "I need to urinate, please.  Where is the bathroom?"

  When Mr. Smith led her to it, Angelina went in, but was confused by the 
arrangements, the odd door in front of the stall, unlike at her home.  She went 
out, and insisted that Mr. Smith help her with it.  He was reluctant, but the 
girl seemed upset and really needed to go badly, so he went in with her.  The 
partition made it seem less improper, though giving her advice, and hearing the 
sound of her water embarrassed him.

  When she came out, her first response seemed reassuring.

  "I guess it isn't that much unlike the one at home, but the pop-up lid and 
handle are different."

  But her panties were in one hand, and she was approaching the sink, holding 
her skirt up with the other.  Though Mr. Smith wasn't positioned to view her 
exposure well, the mirror showed it.  Angelina ran water, and not finding 
anything convenient to wash herself, cupped a bit of it, and let it run off her 
onto the floor.  Mr. Smith found the paper towels, and turning to look away from 
the girl, he handed some to her, so she could dry off.

  Mr. Smith was excited by this situation, but Angelina showed no sign of 
embarrassment, nor any coyness, sexual teasing, or any sign that this was 
unusual.  He didn't think that she did that kind of thing with Sister Abigail 
around, and though he felt that he could handle the situation, he worried that 
she might run into men who'd do otherwise.


  He knew that men would want to do things with her, especially if they knew who 
she was.  For that reason, among others, Mr. Smith declined to reveal Angelina's 
exact situation.  Instead, they conversed about her immediate future, living 
with other people, dealing with more than just one person. She asked him if he 
was married, and when he explained "No, but I have a girlfriend," she wondered 
why he wasn't married.  That led to more questions and answers, away from the 
issue of the girl's inheritance. Angelina's explanation of marriage amused Mr. 
Smith, and though tempted to correct her, he felt that it wasn't the appropriate 
situation to begin discussing such delicate topics.  Nor was he sure that he 
wanted to do so, with a girl who so unexpectedly had become his responsibility.

  At another stop, Mr. Smith went off alone to take care of his business, 
leaving Angelina in the car.  Mr. Thomas got some more drinks for them, and came 
back to find the girl waiting outside, then joining him in the front seat.  The 
girl wanted to know more about people and men, and found Mr. Thomas interesting.  
He was married, for one, and that gave her other things to ask about, such as 
"What is being married like?  Do you have children? What does a beard feel 
like?"

  Mr. Thomas, on his part, was curious about the girl, especially her nakedness 
on the visit to her farmhouse.  Since he was married, but not yet with children, 
he was willing to let the girl explore his beard, and talk about nature and life 
a bit, though he was reticent on the exact nature of marital activities.  He did 
find her charming, and expressed his admiration for her with a number of 
colloquial terms, including "hot chick," "fox," and "sexy babe."  That last 
Angelina found funny, since she was no longer a baby, but Mr. Thomas's 
explanation of how men thought of even adult women they loved as "babes" 
reassured her.

  Angelina, on the other hand, had no reluctance to discuss her playing 
activities, including touching herself to feel the "love of god."  During the 
discussion, she pointed to the places that felt good, and asked whether Mr. 
Thomas had similar feelings.  Though he deferred, it was impossible for him to 
ignore the girl's question when she pulled her skirt up, revealing her panties, 
damp in the center, to point to her most sensitive spot, and touch it briefly.

  "Angelina, yes, men have similar feelings, and other women do too," Mr. Thomas 
said, speaking rapidly, as if short on breath.

  "I just love touching myself, it feels so wonderful.  Is that a good thing?"

  "Definitely!  Though you might want to take care about doing it so openly, in 
front of strangers."

  Angelina wanted to ask more, but Mr. Smith returned. At that point, she 
realized that she had another need to relieve, and thinking on Mr. Thomas's 
advice, decided to take care of it in the bathroom.  Mr. Smith followed, but 
when it became obvious that her activities were sexual, he excused himself, 
telling the girl that he'd be outside, waiting for her.  Angelina stayed for 
some time, and Mr. Smith could hear water running and splashing, as she 
apparently washed up after.

  Though Mr. Smith thought about berating the girl for her activity, the happy 
smile on her face as she came out made that difficult.  She hadn't done anything 
wrong, it was just that most girls simply weren't so open about this.  His Marta 
did such things often, though he would have liked her to do more with him, 
rather than alone.

  In the car, Mr. Smith noticed that Angelina had a sweet perfume about her, a 
natural scent whose origin he couldn't easily ignore.  Angelina was rather quiet 
now, rummaging through a bag of clothes, as if looking for something, but not 
talking.  Finding a pillow, she lay on her side, and fell asleep.

  Mr. Smith wanted to sleep as well, since it had been a long day, and a long 
trip.  Darkness was falling outside, but there was enough light within the car 
to allow him to look at the girl, sleeping next to him.  She rolled over, 
parting her legs, revealing that her panties were now off.  The man hesitated, 
not sure what to do.  The vision was lovely, the wet pussy slit exposed from 
behind, open, a wet virgin place ready to change. Her light, silky pubic hair 
didn't conceal, but provided an added attraction, as Mr. Smith wondered if it 
was as soft as it looked. The temptation was too much, and he reached out to 
touch her.

  He forced his hands to move to the skirt, and pulled it down, covering the 
exposed loveliness.  Removing it from his eyes did not take the vision from his 
brain, nor did it disguise her sweet fragrance.  The air conditioning could not 
compete with her, for long, and it soon became too cold to run it.  Fortunately, 
he had work -- papers to read, especially those about the girl he'd just met and 
seen so intimately.

  Angelina slept through their arrival in the city, and their passage through 
places with bright lights and many people.  Mr. Smith thought about waking her, 
but decided there would be time later for that.  When they arrived at the house 
in the countryside, Angelina awoke.

  "Welcome to your new home, Angelina!" Mr. Smith beamed.

  "Are we in a city?  Are there lots of people around?"

  "Well, we're near a city, but not in one.  There are some people here at the 
house and others not too far away.  Later, we may visit the city.  For now, I 
think we need to get you situated, and rested for tomorrow."


  Angelina was surprised at the size of the house. Her farmhouse was large, for 
just two people, but this was bigger than the barn.  She didn't know how many 
people lived here, but it was obviously too big for just the two of them.

  Upon entering the house, she found many faces waiting, new people to meet.  
The introductions were short, but enough to let the girl know that her home had 
many people living there, even if she didn't quite understand the relationships 
yet.

  First to greet her was Mr. Alexander, an older man with gray hair, and a look 
which suggested decorum and wisdom.  "Pleased to meet you, young mistress.  Or 
should I say miss, Mr. Smith?"

  "I think miss, or Angelina, should do fine.  What do you think, Angelina?" Mr. 
Smith asked.

  "Oh, that will be good.  Your hair is a bit like Sister Abigail's."

  "Thank you, my dear Miss Angelina.  I take care of the business of the house, 
greet guests.  If you have any questions or need help, just call on me."

  "I'll do that," Angelina said, grabbing and hugging him in greeting.  He 
seemed to take it well, looking a bit surprised, but not unappreciative.

  Next was Mrs. White, a buxom woman of early middle age.  She explained about 
doing cooking, and feeding everyone here, among other things, and expressed her 
hope that Angelina would enjoy it here.  The girl hugged her in welcome too.

  Miss Cassie, the maid, was about Sister Christy's age, pretty to look at, but 
very quiet, saying little in greeting but a basic "Hello."  Angelina hugged her 
close, anyway, and hoped that she might become a friend like Christy was.

  There were absent members of the household, explained Mr. Smith.  "Mr. Allen 
does gardening, and Mrs. Thomas, the wife of the chauffeur who drove us here, 
does bookkeeping.  You'll meet them later."

  Two other people were present.  Mr. Smith hadn't introduced them, and they 
looked somewhat unhappy, Angelina thought.  A man and woman, in their late 
thirties, standing next to each other, not touching, but watching her arrival, 
and staring at her.  The woman had a glaring expression, which frightened 
Angelina, though she had no reason to think that it was directed at her.

  Mr. Smith thought about simply dismissing them, but they were already there, 
and Angelina was moving to the couple.  The man spoke.

  "I'm Mr. Jones, George Jones.  Your cousin.  Your Great Grandmother is my 
Grandmother too.  It is nice to meet you."

  Angelina rushed up to him, and hugged him, as she had the others. "I didn't 
know I had a cousin.  That is almost like a brother."

  "I didn't know I had one, either.  Grandmother kept you a secret, after your 
parents died."  He turned to the woman next to him, and introduced her.

  "This is my wife, Sara.  We've been staying with Grandma, up until she died, 
and then, we stuck around here, waiting to see what would happen, especially 
with you.  I'm glad you're here."

  Mr. Jones had a hard time not being glad, with the pretty, busty blonde girl 
in his arms, pressed tightly against him. His wife looked less glad, and it was 
good she didn't show her full feelings.  Angelina was nice to look at for 
certain, but she didn't need to hang all over people, Sara thought.  But it 
wasn't that which raised her ire, but the fact that she had expected George to 
be the heir, to get everything, and the fact that this young girl got it was 
hard to take.  Her attempts to contest the will had failed, but she was too 
stubborn to simply leave with the small pittance they'd received.  Especially 
after enduring the wrath and domination of the old woman these last few years.

  Her husband, however, liked his Grandmother Letitia, at least some of the 
time, and felt he'd been left well off by her bequest, even if it wasn't the 
same as the entire family holdings.

  Sara might have said something, but Angelina let go of her husband and latched 
on to her, pushing her body into the woman's.  "I'm so glad to have family.  Not 
that Sister Abigail wasn't nice, but I just never had any relatives around.  
I've read about them, and never knew I had any, other than Great Grandmother.  
You seem like a nice person.  Are you two staying her with us?"

  Hearing that, Mr. Smith interjected "I believe that they were leaving, and 
going back to their home.  They've stayed here too long, especially after your 
Great Grandmother was gone."

  "Oh, can't they stay, at least for a while?  I'd like to get to know them, to 
know more people.   Can they, please?"

  Sara Jones, spotting a chance to stay close to what she wanted, joined in the 
request.  "I think it would be good for us to be together, to get to know each 
other, like family.  There is nothing more important, not for George and me."

  Though Mr. Smith had hoped the couple would be gone by now, since he'd 
requested that, and didn't want to deal with their presence, and the 
complications it might bring for the naive girl in his care, he couldn't find a 
gracious way to refuse their request.

  It was hard to dislike Angelina.  She was happy, hugging everyone, laughing 
and smiling, seemingly overjoyed to meet every person in the house.  George 
genuinely accepted her, and enjoyed her company, talking briefly about his 
Grandmother.  Sara was polite, at first, then seemed a bit artificial in her 
attitude toward the girl.  When Angelina decided to kiss her on the lips, during 
the second round of hugging, Mrs. Jones found her resolve melting, with new 
feelings toward the girl rising.  Her relationship with her husband had been 
difficult, and keeping the problems secret from both him, and his Grandmother's 
household, had been difficult.  Impossible, in fact, but the old woman was wise 
enough not to interfere.  Letitia never let on that her Great Granddaughter was 
alive, let alone the heir of the family.  Sara was quite put out about that.  
But the girl was not at fault, and her sweetness was quite attractive.  There 
was more than just appearance and touch, of course, and Sara noticed the odor of 
the girl as well.  It was very enticing, especially in one so young in age, and 
with such an attractive, adult body.

  "They are my relatives, Mr. Smith," Angelina explained, when the man tried to 
convince her that they should leave, having business of their own. "I want to 
get to know them, to have a family."  There was no easy way to argue with her, 
and it was late, a long day for Mr. Smith, and for Angelina.

  "They can stay for a short time, I guess.  For now, we should get some sleep.  
We have lots of things to discuss tomorrow."

  Mr. Smith and Mr. Alexander took Angelina to her room.  Compared to her small 
bedroom at the farmhouse, it was amazingly luxurious, with carpeted floor, lots 
of space, and its own bathroom. Her bed was almost as big as her old room! After 
getting her clothes and things settled in a little, Mr. Smith suggested that 
Angelina might want a bath before she slept. The girl found the shower and bath 
fixtures a bit confusing, and asked Mr. Smith for help. He was worried that the 
girl would insist that he get her into the tub, and was relieved when she seemed 
to figure things out enough on her own, and let him leave.

  As he left the room, however, Angelina called him back, saying that she had 
some more questions, things she'd forgotten in the excitement of meeting 
everyone.  She wasn't in the bathroom, so Mr. Smith felt safe going in to talk 
with her.  Finding her naked, dress laid on the side of the bed, was a shock.  
Angelina didn't seem deterred by his confusion, and went on asking about the 
arrangements of things in the house, where to get food, what they'd do tomorrow, 
and other things, as if her lack of clothing wasn't anything unusual.

  Trying to avoid looking at her body, but failing and unable to force himself 
to stop staring, Mr. Smith slowly, sometimes stammering, answered the questions 
briefly.  He tried to get away, but Angelina had more to ask. His response 
embarrassed him, though Angelina seemed not to notice, or at least, said nothing 
of it.  He thought that the girl simply had no idea of what her body did to men, 
and very soon, he'd have to let her know that this kind of thing wasn't 
acceptable.  Perhaps Miss Cassie could help out, he thought.

  He wasn't sure, given the girl's unusual background, and beauty.  If he, the 
responsible guardian, had a hard time dealing with her, others might do worse.

  When he finally was able to explain enough, and Angelina's exhaustion seemed 
to come forward, he bid her goodnight, and explained "If you need anything, you 
can ask for me, or Mr. Alexander, or Miss Cassie.  We'll be around, close enough 
that you can find us."

  "The quick tour you all did was good, I think I know where the rooms are, 
anyway. I don't get lost easily."

  As Mr. Smith closed the door, and heard the water splash in the room, he 
sighed, almost with relief.  When he got to his room, he undressed and took a 
quick shower, running the water cold to reduce the heat within.  That didn't 
succeed, and he lay in his bed naked, unusual for him, and took himself in hand.  
He thought about his girlfriend Marta, but it was late, and calling her would 
only make her upset.  The vision of Angelina was still in his mind. The time 
spent with her, talking while she stood, naked, exposed, nipples hardening, 
pussy open, was irresistible in effect.  The brief exposures before, especially 
of her wet pussy as she slept in the car, drew him on, leading toward his 
release, with eyes closed, mind filling in what he knew couldn't become real.

  When the bed shook slightly, Mr. Smith opened his eyes.  Angelina had entered 
his room, and had been watching him for some time.  Stopping his actions came to 
his mind, but the girl was still naked, touching herself as he did himself, and 
his hand seemed to move on his own, drawing an explosive orgasm, perhaps more 
intense because he tried to hold it back.

  Angelina hadn't said anything, just looked at him and watched his actions, 
enjoying her own to this point.  She had only the vaguest idea of male anatomy, 
but had good empirical knowledge of her own, and knew that Mr. Smith must have 
experienced something like she did.  But what was this? 

  "Gosh, Mr. Smith.  What is that white stuff shooting out of your, uh..., 
thingie?"

  The man didn't answer right away, still held in the throes of his climax.  He 
didn't know how to react, though certainly his body had reacted.  The girl was 
obviously still curious, but she was also aroused sexually.  That was hard to 
resist, and there was no simple way to send her off, and not deal with this 
somehow.  In his haste and confusion, he had sprayed over his body, with much of 
the fluid falling on his genitals, rather than being caught for disposal.  That 
would need to get cleaned up.  A stray thought hit, the kind of thing he knew 
wasn't safe, but the girl seemed so willing, so interested, that...

  "Did you feel "the love of God" when you did that?  I did, when I was watching 
you, but even though I ooze wet a bit, it doesn't shoot out like that, and isn't 
all white.  Is it the same for men as for women?  Do other women do it the same 
way?"  Angelina asked rapidly, after waiting and watching Mr. Smith for a few 
seconds.

  "Uh, 'the love of God', you called it?  I guess that is a nice name for it, 
other words are orgasm, coming, uh..."

  Angelina had leaned over, running her fingers through the white fluid, 
touching the man's now softening cock in the process.  She seemed fascinated by 
it, as if she'd never seen one before.  Mr. Smith realized that she truly 
hadn't, and yet, despite her innocence, or maybe because of it, she had no 
inhibitions about it at all.

  Mr. Smith went on, wanting to help explain things to the girl, and hoping that 
somehow, he could convince her to keep this situation quiet, not talk about it 
to anyone.  "The white stuff is called sperm, or semen.  Men make it when they 
come.  Girls don't, but I think that the feeling is about the same for both of 
us."

  "It seems a bit messy.  My bed gets wet sometimes, but this seems worse."

  "I usually try to catch it.  Or have a nice girl around, who'll lick it all 
up."

  "Isn't that..." Angelina trailed off, as she put her wetted finger into her 
mouth.  "I thought it would taste yucky.  But I guess it is OK.  I've tasted my 
oozes, off my finger."  Then, to Mr. Smith's surprise, the girl leaned over, and 
started licking up the fluid, getting the little splashes on his chest and 
belly, licking his fingers, and finally, his cock and scrotum.

  He thought seriously about telling her to stop.  But despite her lack of 
practice, and the fact that she was merely licking, not sucking or trying to 
arouse with her touches, the sensations were intensely pleasurable, gentle, not 
clumsy.  That the girl seemed to enjoy the process, making humming noises like a 
child enjoying candy, increased the effect.  Angelina slowed down her contact 
when she noticed Mr. Smith's organ increase in size again, becoming stiff, and 
she decided to ask about that.

  Mr. Smith was happy for the break, giving him time to think about the 
situation.  Though he was tired, his sexual response invigorated him.  He 
couldn't let the girl go without doing something about this situation. 
Continuing it to the next stage, which his body certainly seemed to want, didn't 
seem wise, and any distraction from that helped.

  An impromptu anatomy lesson followed, mixed in with a bit of admonition not to 
tell others, not yet anyway, about the discussion.  Angelina was surprised to 
discover that all the parts had such interesting names, and many had more than 
one.  For example, her "flowers" were labia, the stem was a clitoris (and God 
must love that spot a lot, for how it felt when touched), her opening a vagina.  
But men often called it pussy, or cunt, or other words, and she found it all 
fascinating.  That the man's organ grew so large and hard, was interesting, but 
the fact that it took time to harden again was a bit disappointing, especially 
when Mr. Smith lied, and said that he couldn't show her again how it worked.

  Angelina was quite wet herself, and ready to go sexually.  Mr. Smith, letting 
his desire and empathy for the girl overcome his resistance, decided to "clean" 
her up, saying that nice men did that for girls, too. When his tongue touched 
her "flowers", she sighed, but when it reached the hard "stem," she cried out.

  "Oh, God, gosh, Mr. Smith... I never imagined that it could feel like that."

  Mr. Smith continued, inspired by her enthusiastic response.  His Marta enjoyed 
this activity, when he could talk her into accepting it, but she mostly lay 
quietly, letting him do it without much response, as though it wasn't worth 
talking about.  Angelina's writhing and moaning left no doubt that the girl 
enjoyed the contact, and wanted more.  After some time, lapping her wetness up 
each time it ran out, he slowed his pace, and kissed her lightly on her labia, 
licking around them, and between them, catching all her wetness with his tongue.

  Then, he sent her off to bed, promising that he'd explain more in the morning.  
She thanked him for the fine lesson, and hoped that there was more.  Before she 
left, she had one more question to ask.

  "Is it OK if I am naked around the house?  I was able to do that a lot at the 
farmhouse, and wouldn't want to stop. It helps make my skin nice and tan."

  "Sure, I guess.  We'll talk more, tomorrow," Mr. Smith answered, hastily, not 
thinking about the implications.  His hard cock tempted him to do more with the 
girl, and he had seen that she was certainly still a virgin.  He wanted time to 
think, to release the pent-up pressure, without risking that he'd ruin the 
situation with the girl.  Making love to your ward was definitely not something 
that the courts would look kindly on, no matter how much her actions were in 
favor of it.

  Before she left, he decided to add one more thing. "You can call me Robert, or 
Bobby, not just Mr. Smith."

  "I like calling you Mr. Smith.  It is like with Sister Abigail, she was in 
charge of me, and that's just what I called her."

 "Don't talk to anyone else about this, what happened tonight.  Not until we 
have a chance to talk about it tomorrow.  OK?"

  "Sure, no problem.  Gosh, this was a good idea coming here."

  He watched her leave, still naked, and held his cock in his hand.  It didn't 
take long to relieve the need he felt.  That night, he dreamed of Angelina.  
Visions of her naked filled his night, making love with her, and strangely for 
him, Marta joining in enthusiastically.

  Angelina, back in her room, enjoyed the "love of God" again, calling it an 
orgasm for the first time ever, saying its name each time one arrived, over and 
over, taking hours to fall asleep.  Her dreams were filled with the naked form 
of Mr. Smith, Sister Christy, The Doctor, Mr. Thomas -- and every other person 
she'd met or seen that day, all touching her naked self, licking her "flower," 
and finally, coming home to her farmhouse to get naked and play together.

  When she woke up, the heat between her legs tempted her to play by herself.  
But this time, she had someone new to play with.  She hoped that Mr. Smith was 
awake, but if he wasn't, she had an idea of how to wake him up.  The house was 
still dark, and as before, she left her room naked, padding down the hall, to 
discover new things in her new home.

  The end ;-) for now.


Copyright by Jeff Zephyr (jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2000.  Please don't distribute 
in an altered form, with removal of any part of the story or author credit and 
copyright info.  Do not distribute it, or place it on a website, CDROM, or other 
location or publication, with any charges for acquisition, either to access the 
site or archive, or any other charges specifically for the story, without 
permission.

If you liked this story, want to put it in a free collection, want to tell me 
how I could write better, or just would like to say hello, write to me at my 
email address shown above.

You can find more of my stories and other things at my website:

http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/

or via FTP:

ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/


  

