

                          MOLLY
                           "D"



This story includes situations of an adult nature that
may not be appropriate for all readers.



Please note that all characters and situations are fictional and
provided solely for the enjoyment of readers. Any resemblence to
real persons is coincidence and strictly in the mind of the beholder.


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

Synopsis: Molly is a deeply closeted lesbian. After a neighbor man comes to her 
aid the two become fast friends. They can talk and share without the emotional 
stress of a romantic involvement; until Molly needs help taking an enema. The 
intimacy of that experience causes her to re-examine their friendship.

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





I

It was a night I won't soon forget. I was walking toward  my apartment building. 
As I passed an alley I heard a shriek.  Whatever possessed me I don't know, 
but I sprinted in that  direction. In dim light I saw a tall, bald and tattooed 
figure  holding a young woman. She was bent over, her skirt folded over  her 
back and her briefs around her knees. He held her in an arm  lock and was pressing 
his hips against her buttocks.   

"Help! Rape!" she cried.  

I looked around the alley for something to use as a  weapon but found nothing. 
"Hey! Stop!" I yelled.   

Her assailant pushed her to the pavement and headed my  way. The next thing 
I felt was a thud against my jaw that  dropped me to the ground.   

The girl knelt beside me and helped me to my knees. "Are  you all right?" she 
asked.  

I rotated my jaw to make sure it wasn't dislocated and  then took inventory 
of my teeth with my tongue.  

"I'm supposed to ask you that," I replied. Then I  whipped out my cell and punched 
in 911. While we awaited the  squad cars I dug out my wallet and handed the 
girl a business  card. "Here," I said. "In case you need to get hold of me to 
testify or whatever..." 
                              ====================
  

Several days later I was in my apartment finishing some  Chinese leftovers when 
I heard footsteps approaching my door. I  looked up expecting to hear the bell 
ring. Instead I saw an  envelope pushed under my door.  

Inside was a thank-you card, with her business card  enclosed.  

Thank you, it read, for coming to my aid. I  know what you did rose above and 
beyond the call of duty. I  would love to repay your courage and concern. How 
about a home- cooked dinner? Saturday at six -- apartment 505. Molly. PS: RSVP 
regrets only -- M.   

Saturday I approached her door and rang her bell.   "Molly?"   

"Come in," she said. I stepped in and handed her a paper  bag. "What's this?" 
She withdrew a bottle of rose wine. "You  didn't have to."  

"My mom taught me never to accept an invitation empty- handed," I replied. "Since 
I didn't know what's on the menu I  thought I'd bring something that'd cover 
all bases."      

I regarded her. Molly was in my estimation a few years  younger than I. I figured 
she must be in her  late twenties. Her  round face was youthful and pretty with 
a cute, upturned nose,  broad mouth and full lips. She was petite, but a little 
chunky  and with a full figure. Her eyes were deep, clear blue and her  hair 
medium brown with reddish highlights. She was wearing a  tee, cut-off shorts 
and flip-flops. Her legs were short but full  and shapely with dimpled knees 
and well-formed calves.   

Molly gestured me to the sofa. "Dinner is meatloaf," she  said. "It still has 
some time in the oven. I'm afraid I'm not a  very good cook, but this is something 
my mother taught me."   

"Sounds wonderful," I replied.  

"So -- did you spend much time with the police?"  

"The other night? Yeah -- they took my statement ... had  me look through mug 
books ... did a composite sketch. They say  it's the same guy who's been terrorizing 
this part of town. How  did you make out?"  

She sighed and held her forehead in the palm of her  hand. "The worst part was 
going to the hospital for the  forensics exam. I was poked and probed and swabbed 
and  photographed..."  

"I had never thought about that part of it."  

"It wasn't until two days later I looked at your card --  and realized the address 
was an apartment here in this  building."  

"Yeah -- I didn't realize we were neighbors."  

"It seemed odd -- I've never seen a business in this  block."  

"I work out of my apartment," I explained. "You could've  phoned -- I answer 
that number day and night."  

"I'm naturally a little shy," she replied. "I prefer  writing notes -- that 
way I can polish my words so I don't  embarrass my self."  

"It was a very sweet card."  

"I meant every word of it -- you didn't have to come to  my aid. You put yourself 
in harm's way for me."  

"I would have done it for anyone," I replied and then  stroked my jaw. "Of course, 
now that I HAVE done it for someone  I'm not sure I'd do it again."  

"I did want to thank you in person," she added and  stopped short. A burning 
odor wafted from the apartment's  kitchen, "Ohmigosh..."   

Molly jumped up and sprinted into the kitchen. "The  potatoes have boiled dry," 
she said glumly. "I was going to mash  them."  

"Just boiled is fine -- the crispy bits add character."  

"You're too kind... Oh no! The meatloaf!"  

She pulled open the oven and brought out a pan holding  an overly brown oblong 
object.   

"Looks like you saved it," I observed.  

"There's a corkscrew in the drawer," she said. "Why  don't you open the wine 
and I'll set the table.  

She put a plate before me. I scooped some of the  meatloaf.  

"How is it?" she asked.  

"Charcoal is good for the digestion," I replied.  

"Other than the crispy ... the charred bits ... how..."   

I nodded "Pretty good. If I were making it, thought, I'd  add some onion..." 

"Onion!" She smacked her forehead with her fist. "I  forgot the onion..."  

"Molly -- it's OK. We can't all be cordon bleu chefs."   

"Don't tell me you are one," she replied. "Please  don't..."  

"I'm not -- but I am a pretty good Asian chef -- Indian,  Chinese, Japanese 
... Malay... How would you like to try some of  my shrimp Vindaloo? Next Saturday, 
same time, my place?"  

"With or without crispy bits?" she asked.  

"With -- but only where they belong."  

She nodded. "It's a date."  

We finished the wine and she served ice-cream sundaes --  perfectly made -- 
for dessert. I glanced at my watch. "It's  getting late," I said. "I'd better 
go..."  

"Wait," she said and approached me. "There's something I  have to say to you 
-- to clear the air."    

"What is it, Molly?"       

"You seem like an awfully nice guy and ... I ... I feel  ... chemistry between 
us."       

"I feel it, too. I wasn't going to push anything -- not  on a first date..." 

"There's a problem..."      

I gazed at her. "Let me guess ... you're engaged..."       

"...no..."       

"...seeing someone..."       

"I'm ... between someones..."      

"What is it, then?"       

She looked into my eyes. "I'm a lesbian..."       

I stroked my forehead. "Well..."       

"Please understand how difficult it was for me to tell  you that." She pressed 
her hand to her chest. "My heart is still  pounding. No one else knows, but 
I had to tell you."       

"You're pretty far into the closet, then."       

"Pretty far. I wouldn't have told you if I didn't  think..."       

"I'm discreet. I won't tell anyone unless you want me  to. Molly -- it doesn't 
matter to me what your orientation is."   

"You're not upset? Disappointed?"  

I shrugged. "I like you, Molly -- and I'm in this with  you. I have your back. 
If they catch that guy and put him on  trial -- well, the going can get a little 
rough. I'm sure I'll  be asked to testify. I'll give you what moral support 
I can."  

"I appreciate that."   

"And -- I suppose there's no reason we can't be friends.  I know a lot of straight 
girls who like to hang around gay guys.  Why can't a straight guy be friends 
with a gay girl?"  

"Why not, indeed."  

"We can go to bars together ... check out the girls ...  after all, I like what 
you like." She suppressed a giggle. "And  if you ever need a beard..." I held 
out my hand. "Friends?"   

She took it in hers. "Friends," she replied.  

"And, we're still on for Vindaloo next Saturday."  

"I wouldn't miss it."  

I started to turn the doorknob. "Molly -- if you ever  want to talk or have 
some company ... I'm in my apartment most  of the time."   

"I wouldn't want to disturb you."  

"You can't -- I won't let you. If I can't talk I'll tell  you. Okay?"   

She nodded. "Good night." 
                              ====================
  

Wednesday I was working at my laptop when the doorbell  rang. I opened it and 
saw Molly. "Is it a bad time?" she asked.  

I gestured her in. "No -- what is it?"  

"I need some advice."  

"Okay..."   

"I was at lunch and when the waitress brought me the  check this was stuck to 
it." She handed me a yellow Post-it  note:   

Hi. I've seen you in here the past few days. I'm new  in town and I like you. 
Give me a call -- no strings, no  expectations. -- Britney.  

"And," I remarked, "she left her phone number. Funny --  I never had a sticky 
note like this on any of my lunch checks.  Are you going to call?"  

"That's why I wanted your advice," she replied. "My last  ... relationships 
... were in college. Four of us with the same  ... interests signed up for a 
suite in the dorms. It was easy to  keep things quiet..."  

"And, in college who cares?" I remarked.  

"Exactly. I haven't had any since I graduated..."  

"Then you're due for some. What's the harm in calling  her?" I asked and regarded 
her. "You DID call her, didn't you?"  

She nodded "We have a date Friday -- there's a club she  wants to go to... I 
wanted to know if you think I should keep  the date."   

I shrugged "Why not?"  

"Suppose it gets serious?" she asked. "What would happen  to us?"  

"Us?"   

"You and me."   

"Molly -- you make it sound like we're a couple when  we're only friends. If 
you found someone to care for you ...  well, I'd be delighted."  

"Really?"   

"Really. And I don't understand how it could hurt our  friendship."  

"Thanks..." She turned toward the door and stopped. "You  know -- you're more 
like one of my girlfriends than any guy I've  ever known. I mean that as a compliment..." 

"I'll take it as one."  

"...of the highest order. Thanks again."   

She headed out the door. "Molly," I called after her. "I  want a full report 
Saturday night."  

"You've got it." 
                              ====================
  

Saturday was the last warm day of the fall -- so said  the weatherman at least. 
I had slipped into polo, a pair of  shorts and sandals. I heard my bell ring 
and I let Molly into my  place.   

She inhaled deeply. "Oh, it smells so good in here ...  and I'm so hungry." 
She held up a bottle of Riesling. "This  should go with Indian -- shouldn't 
it?"  

"Yes -- good to put the fire out."  

"I'll start chilling it."  

"Dinner's almost ready -- just putting on the finishing  touches..."   

I set a plate before her. "Shrimp Vindaloo ... Basmati  rice ... dahl ... some 
raita to quench the fire...  That Riesling will go wonderfully with this."  

She scooped a forkful. "Mmm..." Then she picked up a  chapatti. "I see some 
char..."  

"It's supposed to be there -- to caramelize the flour  for flavor."  

"Funny how much better it tastes like this..."  

"So -- how'd it go?"   

"How'd what go?"   

"The big date -- with Britney?"   

Molly rolled her eyes. "All she wanted was to get into  my pants. We had little 
in common -- just pure physicality."  

"Don't knock pure physicality," I replied. "It can feel  pretty good."  

"It's not what I wanted. I'm not going to see her  again."   

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," I replied.   

"And, she SMOKES! That is the most disgusting habit."  

"I agree one hundred percent. You know, Molly -- the  more I get to know you 
the more I think you're the sort of girl  that needs a connection first."  

"Yes -- you're right." She scooped a mouthful of rice.  "I think I have more 
in common with you than with her. It's why  I feel so comfortable around you." 

"And," I added, "no agenda."  

"Right -- no agenda..." Molly set down her fork and  regarded me.  

"Something wrong?" I asked.   

She shook her head. "No ... it's nothing."   

"It must be something."   

"It's ... no -- I'm too embarrassed."  

"Don't be shy -- we're friends."  

She shook her head again. "It's just ... I look at you  across the table ... 
the conversations we've had .. the vibes I  get from you... It makes me..." 
She shook her head again. "It  makes me a little curious, that's all."  

"Curious about what?"  

"What a physical relationship with you would be like."   

"So you think you'd like to try batting for the other  team?" I asked.  

"No -- I like pussy too much ever to change. I just have  pangs of ... curiosity." 

"Have you ever had straight sex?" I asked.  

"No ... never."  

"Then, technically you're a virgin."  

"I would not classify myself as a virgin," she replied  and sipped her wine. 
"Virginity is more a state of mind, don't  you think?"  

"I'm not so sure about that."  

"Well, it's been years since I've been in a virgin state  of mind." She swirled 
the wine in her glass. "Have YOU ever had  gay sex?"  

"No -- never," I replied.   

"Haven't you ever been ... curious?"   

"You mean..."  

"Haven't you ever wondered what a gay relationship would  be like? Haven't you 
ever had a crush on another guy?"   

I leaned back in my chair. "Well... Maybe when I was  about twelve... There 
was this kid in my class. He had light,  light blond hair -- almost an albino 
-- and pale blue eyes. I  really liked this kid."  

"Enough to fuck him?" she asked.  

I chortled. "At twelve that was pretty far from my  mind."   

"It wasn't far from mine at that age," she replied.  

"Then either you were precocious or I was slow."  

"What happened to this kid?"  

"I lost track of him. I don't think he even knew I  existed."  

"How sad," she said, "unrequited gay love. You never  felt that way about another 
guy?"  

"You know -- as I matured I lost interest ... I started  finding men to be repulsive. 
To this day I'm more comfortable  around women and prefer women as friends. 
I guess you could call  me a male lesbian."   

Molly nearly blew wine out her nose laughing.       

I sipped some of the Riesling. "I think it's the hair  that turns me off."  

"I'm with you on that one," she replied. "There's  nothing that repulses me 
more than seeing a man's hairy legs."  She shuddered. "I mean -- some guys actually 
have nice-looking  legs ... IF they weren't hairy that is." She skewered a shrimp 
with her fork. "I was looking at your legs when you let me  in..."  

"And?"  

"You have nice legs ... and they're not TOO hairy."  

"I'm not hairy like some guys."  

"I know... I like legs. I guess I'm a leg girl." She  popped the shrimp into 
her mouth. "You never told me," she said.  

"Told you what?"  

"What you do for a living -- other than whatever it is  you do, you do right 
here."  

"I'm a freelance writer," I answered.  

"Does it keep you busy?"   

"It's a living."  

"What sort of writing? Fiction ... journalism ... what?"  

"Lots of different things," I replied. "I do some ghost- writing -- when some 
celebrity has a book deal sometimes the  writing needs to be tweaked a little." 

"Anyone I've heard of?" she asked.  

"Oh, certainly," I replied.  

"Who?"   

"I've signed a confidentiality agreement. If I told you  then I'd have to kill 
you."  She pouted. "There's one I can tell  you. Have you ever heard of Doctor 
Jack?"  

"The Quack-Buster? Yes -- he has a show on cable."  

"We started as a syndicated columnist and now we have a  book coming out."  

"We?" She looked at me wide-eyed. "YOU're Doctor Jack?"  

"Not exactly. Jack McLaughlin is a real doctor, but he  can't write worth shit. 
So, he and I collaborate on columns and  on the book -- which comes out next 
month in fact. Doctor Jack  is my biggest client. He pays most of the bills 
around here."  

"How did you land that gig?" she asked.  

"I guess I'm uniquely qualified. You see -- I went  through four years of medical 
school before bagging it and  becoming a writer. I didn't have the ambition 
to go through a  residency and set up a practice." I gestured around the room. 
"Here I have no office overhead and with computers and the  Internet I can email 
my contributions. It works out good for me,  at least. Of course I'm not locked 
in this room. Many times I've  traveled with Doctor Jack to investigate the 
alternative  medicine practitioners he seeks to expose."  

"Wow," she replied. "It makes my job seem so mundane."  

"What do you do?" I asked.  

"I'm an administrative assistant for an investment firm  -- I'm working my way 
up to become a bond analyst."  

"That's an impressive job, too," I replied. "I'm no good  with money. I don't 
have a good relationship with it. It's a  means to an end for me." I picked 
up my plate. "Finished?"  

"It was very good."   

"I'll clean up later -- there's some wine left. Care to  sit on the sofa?"  

"Sure," she replied. "Did you have after-dinner plans?"  

"I thought I'd watch a movie."  

Molly picked up a Netflix envelope on the coffee table  and peered inside. "Torn 
Curtain?"  

"Yeah," I replied. "It's a Hitchcock film with Paul  Newman. After his passing 
I thought I'd give this film a peek.  I'm a fairly big Hitchcock fan."  

"I love old Hitchcock movies," she said.  

"Then, let's watch it." I slipped the disc out of its  sleeve and slipped it 
into a player on a bookshelf.  

"Watch it on what?" she asked as she looked at the blank  wall across from the 
sofa.  

I lowered the lights, picked up a remote and pressed a  button. The projector 
concealed in the coffee table illuminated  the wall with a theatre-sized image. 

"What a great way to watch a movie," she said.  

I set her wine glass on the table and took my place on  the sofa. Molly sat 
beside me. About halfway through the film  she snuggled against me.  

Then I felt her drift to sleep.  

I nudged her "Molly ... Molly -- the movie's over."  

"Mmmph," she said and rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry -- it  happens every time 
I watch a movie. I fall asleep and when I  wake up the menu is playing over 
and over again." She stood and  stretched. "I'd better be going. Thanks for 
dinner -- it was  delicious."  

"Same time next week?" I asked.  

"Sure -- what's on the menu?"   

"I dunno," I replied. "I'll have to think about it." 
                              ====================
  

The next morning I arose and stepped into the shower.  The promised cold front 
had moved through overnight and now the  temperature hovered in the mid fifties. 

I soaped up and looked down at my legs. Some impulse  made me reach for my razor 
and slip in a new cartridge; then I  began shaving them. I knew I'd feel self-conscious 
wearing  shorts but with the cold weather upon us that wouldn't be likely  for 
several months. I guess the conversation Molly and I had was  fueling my curiosity. 

After drying off I stood and examined them in the  mirror. Molly was right -- 
they weren't bad looking, and shaved  they might pass for a girl's. I couldn't 
decide  if that was a  good thing or not.        



II

My bell rang. I opened the door and saw Molly. She  appeared agitated.   

"Did the city attorney call you?" she asked.  

"Yes -- I spoke with him earlier. Did he call you?"   

"Just a message on my machine. What did he say?"   

"They caught the guy. He wants us to testify when it  comes to trial."   

"Oh, God!" I opened my arms and Molly fell into them,  trembling. "Oh, God..." 

I held her and kissed the top of her head. "Don't you  want to see the guy punished?" 

"Of course, but I'll have to go through it all over  again. I'll have to face 
him. I don't know if I can..."   

"I have your back, Molly. I'll be with you. The D.A.  said they have at least 
three other women he attacked. Their  plan is to try the cases separately in 
hopes of piling on enough  consecutive sentences so he'll be put away for a 
long, long  time." I kissed her hair again. "The trial won't be for several 
weeks. It'll give us time to work up some courage. Then it'll be  over."  

"But what if he gets off?"  

"Unlikely -- they have physical evidence ... your  account ... my account." 

She lay her face against my chest. "It feels good when  you hold me."  

"Do you want to sit on the sofa?" I asked, "'til you  calm down?"   

"Okay..."  

She sat beside me and I slipped my arm around her  shoulders.   

"What kind of a guy gets his kicks out of assaulting  someone?" she asked.  

"Rape isn't about sex or gratification," I replied.  "It's about power. It's 
a hate crime."  

"Why did he pick me?"   

"You were just unlucky enough to cross his path."  

"They gave me the morning-after pill at the hospital ...  made me feel awful..." 

"You're not on the pill? I asked.  

"I'm a LESBIAN -- why would I need to be on the pill?"  

"Point well taken," I replied.  

"...I was sweating bullets until I got my period..."  

"But you did get it," I said as I stroked her shoulder.   

"Yeah I got it ... but I still have to go in for regular  AIDS testing..."  

"Now that the caught the guy they can test him and maybe  you won't have anything 
to worry about."  

"Maybe..." She kissed my cheek. "I'm feeling better now.  I should go -- you 
probably have work to do."  

I walked her to the door. She took my hand and squeezed  it. "Thanks."  

"See you Saturday?"  

"Okay." 
                              ====================
  

Saturday evening my doorbell rang and I admitted Molly.  She gave me a quick 
hug and stepped into my kitchen.  

"Seeing as how it's such a cold and dismal day," I said,  "I decided to make 
goulash and noodles. There's nothing better  than a Central European dinner 
on such a day -- comfort food.  After a meal like this you know you've eaten 
something."  

Molly sat at the table and picked at the plate before  her.   

"Is something wrong?" I asked. "Do you not like it?"  

"Oh, it's delicious -- as usual," she replied. "I guess  I'm not feeling very 
well."  

"Are you coming down with something?" I asked.  

She shook her head. "It was a bad week at the office  with the market melting 
down ... then the call from the city  attorney ... thinking about testifying... 
The only good news is  they tested that creep for HIV and it came back negative 
-- so  at least I don't have that to worry about..." She looked up at  me. "I 
have a lot of stress ... okay?"  

"It's not okay if it affects you physically," I replied.  

Molly stood and paced. "When I get stressed it affects  me here." She pressed 
her hand against her abdomen. "I get all  bloated and..."  

"Constipated?"  

"Well, no -- it's more complicated ... yes I guess so  ... I wasn't going to 
use that word..." She turned to face me  and held her blouse tight against her 
belly. "See how I'm  bloated?"  

"It's hard for me to judge."  

"I did go to a doctor ... he thinks I have some mild  form of irritable bowel 
syndrome."  

"Did he give you anything for it?"  

"Yes -- some Xanax."  

"Xanax?" I replied. "For IBS?"  

"He thinks it's anxiety related and it's supposed to  relieve anxiety. But I 
don't like taking it -- it makes me feel  ... dopey."  

"But -- does it work?"  

"Not really -- by the time the symptoms appear it's too  late for it to help." 

"By the time you feel poorly the anxiety has already  done its dirty work," 
I replied.  

"Exactly. You're almost-a-doctor. What would you  recommend?"  

"Well..." I headed to my laptop and began flicking  through folders. "Back before 
I started working for Doctor Jack  I would've recommended a laxative ... start 
with something mild  like ducosate or milk of magnesia and work up to bisacodyl 
or  senna."   

"I usually resort to that but I hate the cramping."  

I pressed some keys and my printer whirred into action.  "Now I would recommend 
something different."  

I took the sheets from the tray and handed them to her.  "This," I said, "is 
Doctor Jack's column on enemas from a couple  years ago... You don't have to 
read the whole thing -- the  summary at the end says it all."  

Molly read aloud, "Although some of the wilder claims of  the holistic medicine 
crowd may be dismissed as specious, and  the fringe advocates of treatments 
such as coffee enemas as  downright dangerous; the fact remains that for immediate 
relief  of simple constipation in otherwise healthy patients few  treatments 
are as safe and as effective as a gently-administered  large-volume tap water 
or mild saline enema."  

"Have you tried that treatment?"  

"...no..."  

"The real advantage is that you're treating the final  three feet of your digestive 
system -- where the problem is --  than the entire thirty feet of it."  

"Or, my whole body like with the Xanax."  

"Precisely. In addition we're talking about a mechanical  rather than a chemical 
mechanism and one that's much more  natural. Interested in trying it?"  

"What do I have to lose?"  

"Let's walk down to the corner drugstore and acquire the  necessary apparatus," 
I suggested.  

"I'll get my coat."  

I waited by the elevator for her and rode to the street  level. A short walk 
took us to the Duane Reade on the corner. I  found the appropriate shelf and 
reviewed the inventory.  

"I recommend this," I said, pointing to a box containing  a combo syringe. "It's 
a closed-top syringe which has the  advantage that you can set it down without 
spilling the  contents."  

"Fine," she said.  

I picked to box from the shelf and carried it to the  checkout. "This one's 
on me," I said.  

We headed back to the apartment. "Thanks for buying  that," she said. "I would've 
been too self-conscious."  

"No reason to be," I replied. "It's not like it's  illegal or anything." We 
walked a bit further. "The article on  enemas was one of my first assignments 
with Doctor Jack. It's  the first one that involved a field trip."  

"Field trip?" she asked.  

"Yes -- he and I went to an enema spa on an island off  of Thailand. It was 
an all-expense-paid trip to Thailand and I  couldn't turn it down."  

"An enema spa?" she asked.  

"Yes -- run by a one of the fringe advocates Jack  alludes to. He believes we 
all develop a buildup in our colons  from years of lousy diet and that by fasting 
and flushing it can  be removed. It was at this camp I learned the fine art 
of  administering an enema. It's going to be a big chapter in Jack's  book." 

"So, did you get thoroughly flushed?" she asked.  

"Thorough enough for my tastes," I replied. "I was there  mainly  to interview 
the participants. One guy claimed that the  treatment dislodged a ball-bearing 
he had swallowed as a kid.  This thing had remained lodged in his gut for over 
twenty years.  Another guy -- an older chap -- claimed he actually expelled 
metallic mercury that he ingested years before from taking  calomel."  

"Do you believe these claims?" she asked.  

"I believe the ball-bearing one -- because I saw the  actual article. The mercury 
one I kinda dismiss ... in no small  part because calomel was deprecated as 
an internal medicine by  the 1860s."  

We arrived at the apartment building. "My place or  yours?" she asked.  

"Yours I think. I'll show you the procedure and then you  can handle the particulars 
on your own going forward."  

We rode the elevator to the fifth floor and she unlocked  her door.   

Molly eyed me. "I don't have to get naked for this, do  I?"  

"No -- but we will need access to your bottom. It's okay  to wear something 
that preserves your modesty."  

"Unfortunately I don't happen to have any hospital gowns  in my closet," she 
replied. "I'll see what I can find."  

I carried the box into her kitchen and use one of her  paring knives to open 
the cellophane wrapper. Molly approached  me in a long, cotton sleep tee. It 
had short sleeves and its hem  came halfway to her knees. "Will this do?"  

I regarded her. "I guess so -- you didn't need to take  off your bra, though." 

She blushed. "Force of habit I guess ... I never wear  one to bed and I never 
wear this unless I'm going to bed..." She  watched what I was doing.  

I measured out two tablespoons of baking soda and two  teaspoons of table salt 
into a custard cup. Then I ran water  from her tap 'til it was warm.  

She pointed to the cup. "What's that for?"  

"Baking soda is soothing to the colon," I replied, "and  the salt will make 
the solution mildly hypertonic. That'll make  it just a bit more purgative than 
tap water. This really is an  excellent cleansing solution."  

I filled a quart measure with water from her tap, dumped  in the salt and soda 
and stirred it with a spoon. This I poured  into the syringe bag and followed 
it with another quart of  plain, warm water.  

I showed her how the apparatus was assembled; then I  snapped open the clamp, 
blew some air into the bag through the  hose and clamped it again.  

"What did you do that for?" she asked.  

"To give the bag some headroom so I can mix the  contents..." I rocked the bag 
to make sure the solution was  uniform.  Then I attached the enema nozzle, held 
up the bag and  opened the clamp to flush air from the hose.  

"How much water?" she asked.  

"Two quarts -- but you don't need to take it all ...  just enough to fill you. 
Are you ready?"  

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.  

"Grab a towel and we'll go into your bedroom. You need  to be horizontal for 
this treatment."  

I followed her into her bedroom.   

"I'm glad I made the bed this morning," she said.  

"Spread the towel ... to catch any leakage."  

She spread out the towel and climbed onto the bed. "I'm  kinda nervous," she 
said.  

"Nothing to fear. One of these can be administered with  nearly zero discomfort." 

"With 'nearly' the operatve word I suppose. How should I  lie?"  

"We'll start on your left side." I opened a tube of  petroleum jelly and smeared 
it on the tip. "You know where this  goes," I said. "I'll turn my back while 
you insert it.  Don't  force it -- rotate the tip 'til you open up. Then it 
should  slide in easily."       

"How far?"      

"All the way.""  

"Okay," she said. I turned and looked at her, lying with  her back to me. She 
was tugging down the hem of her nightshirt.  I regarded the white hose leading 
up underneath it, and her  shapely legs.  

"Now," I said, "put your left arm behind your back and  roll halfway onto your 
stomach. Keep your right knee bent and  straighten your left leg... Perfect. 
Relax and get comfortable."  

She pulled a pillow under her face. "Okay -- I guess..."  

"I'm going to start the flow," I replied. "We'll go real  slow at first. If 
you should feel any discomfort -- any at all - - tell me and I'll pinch off 
the flow 'til it passes. Any mild  cramping will be due to constriction in your 
lower colon. It  needs to relax to admit the water. Got it?"  

"Got it."  

"You should NOT feel any sharp pain. If you do, tell me  right away."  

"Got it," she repeated.  

"Here we go..." I snapped open the clamp and held up the  bag. Then I grabbed 
the hose and pinched it to release the water  in short bursts.  

"I'm feeling it," she said. "It feels like a cool spray  inside me."  

"The water in the hose has cooled off," I replied. "Once  we get going it should 
feel warmer. Tell me if you feel  anything."  

"I feel pressure," she said.  

"Cramping?"  

"No -- pressure ... It just released."  

"Your colon folds back on itself down low toward the  end," I explained. "If 
it's impacted then it can take some time  for the water to relax it and flow 
in deeper."   

"It's feeling better."  I made the bursts longer as more  flowed into her; then 
I let go of the hose. "Oh, I feel it  flowing now ... it IS warm ... oh, God 
-- what a sensation ...  the pressure building and releasing."  

"Take long, deep breaths," I coached. "The motion of  your muscles will flex 
your colon and help distribute the water.  

"I can feel it going deeper and deeper into me," she  said.   

"Any pressure or discomfort?"  

"No. I feel bubbles inside. I've never felt anything  like it ... feels kinda 
good actually..."  

The bag was about half-empty. "You're doing great,  Molly," I said. "Are you 
starting to feel a bit full?"  

"A bit? More than a bit."  

"If you're really bound up you might start feeling  uncomfortably full before 
you take the whole bag. Tell me if you  start to feel that way."  

"I'm starting to feel that way already," she said.  

I closed the clamp. "We'll let you rest a moment before  giving you any more." 

"I don't think I can hold any more."  

I squeezed the bag. "It feels like you took three pints  -- maybe a bit more. 
Pull out the nozzle and I'll take this to  the kitchen."  

She reached under her hem and retrieved the tip. "Now  what?" she asked.  

"Roll onto your back if you like. You need to hold it  until you feel a strong 
urge to go -- the longer the better. If  you can hold it for five minutes that 
would be good. Fifteen  would be better."  

She rolled over and stretched her legs. "This feels a  little better... I thought 
I felt bloated before ...  it was  nothing like this," she said.  

"Are you uncomfortable?"   

"Just very, very full," she replied.  

"I'm going to massage your belly," I said. "Don't worry  -- I'll  be gentle." 
I pressed my palms against her sides; then  I traced the shape of her colon, 
counter-clockwise, from her  lower left abdomen, up, across under her ribcage 
and down her  right side. "This will work the fluid into the nooks and  crannies 
... maybe get some stuff moving. You  are full, Molly - - no question."   

"I'm starting to feel like I want to go," she replied.  

"Hold it 'til the urge is very strong."  

"It's getting stronger."  

"Keep holding it."  

"Enema wants out," she said. "Enema wants out bad."  

"Then, go ahead and go."  

She swung her feet to the floor and trotted into her  bathroom. I went into 
the kitchen and drained the remaining  fluid into the measuring cup -- it measured 
just under a cup and  a quarter. Then I rinsed the apparatus with clear water 
and blew  the remaining drops from the hose.  

Molly emerged from the bathroom. She pressed her hand to  her belly. "I feel 
so much better," she said.   

"Did a lot come out?" I asked.  

"A lot," she replied. That was such a ... different  sensation. You're right 
... what did Doctor Jack say? Immediate  relief..." She looked up at me and 
bit her lip. "Can we do it  again?"  

"You want another?"  

She nodded. "I don't think we got it all with the first  one."  

I reassembled the syringe and began running water again.   

"Oh," she said, "can we make this one a little warmer?"  

"Warmer? Okay..."   

While the water warmed up I measured out more salt and  soda. I tested the temperature 
with my finger, filled the  syringe and flushed out the hose.  

We proceeded into her bedroom again. Molly lay on her  bed.  

"You can try different positions," I said as I slathered  the tip with Vaseline. 
"I had you take the first one in Sim's  position -- it's a good one for a first 
enema. You should find  the position that works best for you. Other good positions 
are  on your stomach or on your back. On your back is good because  there's 
no pressure on your belly."  

"I'll try it that way this time." I handed her the hose  and turned my back. 
"Okay," she said.  

I faced her. Her lovely legs were stretched out and she  was smoothing the fabric 
of her nightshirt. I held up the bag  and snapped open the clamp. "We shouldn't 
need to go as slow at  first this time," I said. "You should be quite a bit 
emptier,  now."  

"Oh, I feel it," she said. "You did make it warmer."  

"Too warm?"  

"Oh, no -- it feels good ... the warmth reaching deep  into me ... feels so 
good..." She stroked her belly up and down.  As I was minding the bag I glimpsed 
her stroking her breast with  her thumb. She glanced up at me and smiled, then 
returned to  caressing her belly. I could see her rocking her hips. She was 
taking deliberate deep breaths and I could see her ribcage and  breasts heave. 

The bag emptied with a soft glug and I closed the clamp.  "Good job! You took 
it all."  

Molly reached under her hem and handed me the hose.  "Oh," she said, "I am SOOO 
full. I think my tummy is bulging." I  sat on the bed beside her. "Feel..." 
She took my hand and  pressed it against her abdomen. I could see distention 
from the  enema and her belly felt firm and full.  

"You probably have some of the first enema still inside  you," I said.  

"Well -- I'm going to go get rid of this one," she  replied.   

She headed to her bathroom. I rinsed out the apparatus  again and then waited 
for her on her sofa.  

Molly stayed considerably longer in the loo the second  time around. Finally 
she emerged. "God that felt good!" she  said. "It came out in long gushes ... 
I could feel my stomach  shrinking. Look how flat..." She turned sideways to 
me and  pulled her nightshirt taught against her belly. "My stomach  feels so 
empty and so relaxed now."  

"So -- do you want another?"  

"No -- I want something else."  

The next thing I knew Molly was on my lap and  unbuttoning my shirt. She slipped 
her hand under the fabric and  caressed my chest. "You're not hairy -- that's 
a good thing..."   

I looked into her face and we kissed.  

"So -- did curiosity finally get the better of you?" I  asked.  

"YOU might say that," she replied. "I might say YOU got  the better of me." 

"What do you mean?"  

"I mean you were right when you said I needed to feel a  connection. I've never 
felt more connected to anyone than I do  to you. Never with anyone. I've been 
edging toward this moment  for weeks. You've been so kind and so supportive. 
Then the enema  -- it pushed me over the brink. The warm water reaching so deep 
inside me -- it made me so horny -- I never expected it to do  that but it did. 
And the gentle, caring way you administered it.  When you put your hands on 
my stomach I felt ... electricity.   It was all unbearably arousing."  

"Administering it to you made ME horny," I replied. "I  didn't expect that either. 
I was hoping you wouldn't notice,  and I hope you don't mind."  

"I didn't notice and I certainly don't mind."  

"What about your love of pussy?" I asked. "That's  something I can't provide." 

"No one's perfect..." We kissed again.  

"You said a lesbian has no need for the pill. I suppose  she'd have even less 
need for  condoms -- and I'm not the sort  of guy who carries one in his wallet." 

"Somehow I didn't expect you were," she replied. "If you  have some in your 
apartment ... I can wait."  

"That would kill the passion don't you think? Besides --  I don't."  

"It's not very Boy Scout of you to be so unprepared,"  she chided.  

"Well -- I've never experienced spur-of-the-moment sex.  I figured I'd have 
some advance warning -- you know, meet a girl  ... have a few dates..." I kissed 
her lips "...dinners together  ... discover shared interests ... start feeling 
connected..." I  kissed her again. "...then go buy some condoms. I never expected 
to be blindsided like this. I'm sorry, Molly -- the man's first  and foremost 
duty is to protect his woman. I'll never do  anything to harm you. We can't 
go all the way."  

"Is that a big problem for you?"  

"...no -- not really. We'll figure something out."  

I regarded her pretty, round face. She continued  caressing me. Her eyes brimmed 
and a tear rolled down her cheek.  "Sorry," she said and brushed it aside.  

I followed her back into her bedroom. As she turned down  the bedcover I stripped 
to my briefs and stacked my clothes on  her chair. She slid into bed beside 
me. "This is my first time  with a guy," she said. "Please be patient with me 
if I don't  know what I'm doing."  

"There's a first time for everything," I replied.  

We snuggled together and kissed, and she caressed my  chest. I could feel her 
legs smoothing against mine.  

She stopped short, sat up and pulled back the covers.  "You shaved your legs!" 
she exclaimed.  

"Yes I did."  

"Oh, you DO have pretty legs ... very nice..." She knelt  and ran her hands 
along my knees and up my thighs. "Very nice  ... your legs would look good on 
a woman..." She continued  caressing my legs, then looked up at me with a broad 
smile. "Did  you do that for me?"  

"I guess you could say curiosity got the better of me,"  I replied.  

Molly knelt on the bed. She grasped the hem of her  nightgown and gathered  
it above her hips; then she lifted the  gown up and over her head and set it 
on the foot of the bed.  

I beheld her gorgeous nude body. Molly had firm, round  breasts that were just 
about C-cup sized and with large, pale  pink-brown, perfectly circular areolas 
and thick, fleshy  nipples. She lay beside me and we gazed into each other's 
faces.  I pulled the comforter up above our waists.  

She slid her legs against mine again. "Mmm..." she said,  "...smooth legs. I 
love smooth legs..."  

I regarded her breasts. Molly had clear, pale skin that  revealed superficial 
veins as a network of light blue lines. I  followed one of the blue traced in 
her breast as it looped near  her areola.  

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing next," she  said.  

I led her hand onto my chest. "I think you'll find we  both like the same sorts 
of thing," I said and began teasing her  nipple with my finger.   

She let out a sharp breath and I felt her legs twitch  against mine. Then she 
began fingering my nipple. "You like?"  she asked.  

"I like ... you like?"  

"Mmm... very much."  

Her nipple was firming under my touch and I began  rolling it between my thumb 
and forefinger. Molly gripped my leg  between her thighs and squeezed.   

"Both hands -- both sides," she gasped in a voice just  above a whisper. I shifted 
to free up my left hand. "Mmm ...  deep ... like you're milking them..."  

I squeezed her breasts from her chest wall toward her  areolas and ended each 
stroke with a pinch on her nipple. Her  eyelids drooped, her lips parted and 
she began taking deep  breaths through her mouth. "You have a nice touch," she 
said,  "and I like your pacing... Oh, it's building..."  

I kissed her breast and drew her nipple into my mouth  and began nursing. My 
right hand I slipped behind her and  caressed her back and shoulder blade. Molly 
held my head against  her breast as I tongued her.  

"Oh, God," she gasped. "This feels so good ... so  good... I'm melting into 
a puddle..."  

"Let me know when you're ready for me to move down," I  said as I switched to 
nurse her right breast."  

"You're in the driver's seat," she replied.   

I fondled her left nipple, still wet and slippery with  my saliva. Then I moved 
my hand down, caressed her abdomen and  reached her well-groomed pubic patch. 
I cupped my hand over her  mons, probed her slit and found a pool of her juices. 
I dipped  my finger in and dragged some of the slippery fluid up to her  clit 
and began stroking. "Is this a good spot?" I asked.  

"Mmmm... Over to the left a little ... perfect." She  grabbed my shoulders and 
dug her nails into my skin as I  stroked.   

Her breathing was becoming panting. I lay my face  against her breast and could 
hear her heart pounding and  beginning to race. Molly tightened her grip and 
her thighs began  to tremble against my leg.   

"Don't stop -- don't change it," she panted. I kept as  steady a rhythm as I 
could and began tonguing her nipple in  synch with my stroking.  

"Ohmigosh ... ohmigosh," she gasped, "I'm gonna come ...  I'm coming..."   

She arched her back, drew up her legs and let out a low  moan. "Oh, God stop 
stop ... stop," she panted.  

I withdrew my hand and caressed her cheek with the back  of it. "Good?"  

"Oh ... more than good ... the best." She hooked her arm  around my neck and 
drew my face to hers. I kissed her lips, dry  from mouth-breathing.   

Molly stroked my face. "You know -- I've had girl  partners who couldn't do 
as good a job as you."  

"I'll take that as a compliment."  

"...of the highest order."  

"Are you starting to catch your breath?" I asked.  

She nodded. "What's next?"  

I gazed into her clear blue eyes. "I'm hoping what's  next won't be too difficult 
for you."  

"Difficult? How?"  

"After your ordeal I thought..."  

"Do you mean the rape? Thank you very much for reminding  me of it at a tender 
moment like this."  

"Gosh, Molly -- I'm so sorry... I was just afraid..."  

"I can't be angry with you. You were thinking of my  needs..." She kissed my 
cheek. "My psyche isn't made of glass  after all. I do realize the difference 
between the creep who  attacked my and you."  

I lifted up, slid my briefs off and tossed them onto the  floor. Molly sat, 
cross-legged on the mattress near me. She  regarded my very firm member.   

"This is the first time I've seen one of these up- close," she remarked. "How 
should I..."  

I guided her fingers so they were wrapped around my  shaft with her thumb against 
he underside of my glans. "Just  like this -- back and forth ... rub here." 

She squeezed me and suppressed a giggle. "You're  dripping ... slippery..." 

"Like your juices," I replied. "The male and female sex  organs are more similar 
than different."  

"I suppose the differences are at the macro level," she  observed, "and the 
similarities at the micro level." She used  some of my juices to lube her thumb. 
"How's this feel?" she  asked.  

"Very nice." I shifted so I could stroke her breast as  she stroked me.  

Molly reached and began pinching my nipples, alternating  from left to right. 
"How's this feel?" she asked.  

"Very, very nice..."  

Her touch was driving me toward climax -- actually less  of a drive and more 
like a short putt. My heart was beginning to  pound as the tension built between 
my legs -- built to an  inescapable conclusion.  

"Oh, God Molly," I grunted as I came. My first squirt  landed on my sternum 
with a trail of other blobs along my belly.  She ran her thumb along the underside 
of my shaft and squeezed  out the last drops.  

"Oh my," Molly said, "messy..." She grabbed some tissues  from her nightstand 
and cleaned up the globs. "Was that good for  you?"  

"It was wonderful for me."  

"Me, too," she said. "I liked feeling you have yours."  Molly switched off the 
nightstand lamp and cuddled beside me. I  felt her body relax and her muscles 
give involuntary twitches as  she drifted to sleep. Her lips parted and she 
began regular  breathing through both her nose and mouth.  

"Molly," I said softly, half-hoping she wouldn't hear,  "I love you. I've loved 
you from the first."  

"Mmm," she replied drowsily, "I know you do. I know. I  love you, too."     




III

Morning light waked me. I looked to my left and saw  Molly,  gazing at me propped 
up on her elbow. "Morning," she  said.  

"Good morning."   

She kissed my cheek. "Oooh, stubbly." She stroked my  cheek with the backs of 
her fingers. "...not accustomed to  waking up to that..."   

"Sleep okay?" I asked.  

"Like a baby."  

"How's your tummy feel?"  

"Still really empty and relaxed."  

"Any regrets?"    

She shook her head. "None at all."  

"Are you hungry?"  

"A bit. I usually have a pop-tart for breakfast."  

I turned up my lip. "A pop-tart? Come down to my place  and I'll fix a proper 
breakfast -- bacon and eggs..."  

"I want to take a shower first."  

"I suppose so should I. I really don't want to run out  on you..."  

"It's okay," she replied. "I'll see you in a little  bit."  

I slid out of bed and pulled on my clothes; then I  grabbed my jacket and keys 
and headed out her door for the  elevator. Once inside I punched the key for 
the street level and  ran for Duane Reade. There I grabbed a box of condoms, 
stood in  line for what seemed an hour and then ran back to my building.  

Inside my apartment I stripped down, lathered up and  scraped my face. Then, 
I hopped into the shower where I decided  to give my legs another shaving as 
well.  

I put on a polo and a pair of shorts and greeted Molly  when she rang the bell. 
She regarded me up and down, her gaze  fixing on my legs. "You know how to please 
a girl," she said.  

She was wearing her cut-offs and I regarded her legs.  "You know how to please 
a guy."  

"Our thoughts run in the same channel," she said. She  handed me a bag from 
behind her back. "How about a Champagne  brunch?"  

I withdrew the bottle. "Wow... I'd better get this on  ice right away."  

"I'll set the table while you're preparing... Where are  your wine glasses?" 

"Cabinet above the sink -- wait a minute..."  

I opened the fridge, took out a pack of raspberries and  dropped one into each 
glass.  

Molly strolled into my small galley kitchen and hugged  my left arm as I flipped 
an omelet with my right. "So what do  you think?" I asked.  

"About what?"  

"You. Did last night change anything?"  

"Mmm... Not really. I always knew I'd find a girl who I  could really connect 
with. I never expected her to be a guy. I  mean that as a..."  

"Compliment? I'll take it as one."  

"...of the highest order. You do think more like a girl  than a guy."  

"Maybe it's why I get along better with women. I feel  totally out of water 
when I'm with a bunch of men."  

"I think the world needs more men who think like you."  

I popped open the Champagne and poured two glasses. We  clinked rims and sipped; 
then I set an omelet with bacon before  her.  

She scooped a forkful. "About the enemas..."  

"What about them?"  

"How often would be too often?"  

"Well -- if you read Doctor Jack's article..."  

"...which I will ... carefully and with attention to  detail..."  

"...he has concluded that for someone who's otherwise  healthy the procedure 
is at worst harmless. He even dismisses  the notion that excessive use leads 
to loss of tone in your  colon. I'd say that once or twice a week probably isn't 
too  often at all."  

"So, making it a Saturday night ritual..."  

"Wouldn't hurt you in the least. Are you thinking of  that?"  

She smiled. "Maybe... I liked having you help with it...  Would you..."  

"Molly -- any time you need help with an enema give me a  call. I'll come running." 

There was a bit of Champagne left in the bottle after we  finished our breakfast. 
I carried the glasses to the sofa and  set them on the coffee table. Molly sat 
beside me and brushed  her leg against mine. "Smooth legs," she said. "I love 
smooth  legs."  

"So I recall..."  

"What do you usually do on a Sunday?" she asked.  

I shrugged. "I dunno... It depends if I have a backlog  of work to do."  

"Do you?"  

"Not today. What about you -- what do you do on a  Sunday?"  

She shrugged. "I dunno ... not much."  

"How about a walk in the park?"   

"Too cold," she replied. "I'm not dressed for it."   

"Me, neither. It takes the building super a few weeks to  get the heat balanced. 
Yesterday it was too cold. Today it's too  warm -- that's why I put on the shorts." 

"Me, too."  

"So -- what would you like to do?"  

Molly broke into a broad smile and kissed me, then  glanced toward my bedroom. 
"We tried out my bed ... how about  yours?"  

I drained the bottle into our glasses and we each  carried one. I opened the 
drawer to my nightstand and showed her  the box of condoms. "As you see, this 
time I'm prepared like a  good Boy Scout. Are you game?"  

"Of course I am." She smiled and turned her back to me  as she slipped off her 
tee. I could see she was wearing a  camisole or something underneath it. Then 
she undid the  waistband of her cutoffs and turned again to face me as she  
dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them.  

She had on a taupe teddy with a sheer lace bodice. "As  you see, I also am prepared. 
Do you like?"  

"Very nice. I didn't realize lesbians went in for  lingerie."  

"Why shouldn't we?"  

I pulled my polo over my head and stripped off my  shorts. I sat on the bed 
and patted the mattress beside me.  Molly sat and I handed her the glass of 
Champagne.  

"Bottoms up," I said. "It might help make things go  better."  

"Not that we need them to go better," she added.  

"No -- but a little buzz can be fun." I drained my  glass. "Molly -- there is 
one topic I think we should discuss."  

"What's that?"  

"Oral sex."  

I could practically hear her crest fall. She drew in a  deep breath and sighed. 
"I don't know if I'm ready for that step  -- not yet. I mean -- I'm not saying 
I'll never be ready..."  

"You call the shots," I replied. "You set the pace."  

"I mean ... I think I've been really adventuresome since  last night..."  

"You have been."  

"I don't want to be a passion-killer..."  

"Oh, you're not."  

"I hope you won't think poorly of me..."  

"I don't."  

"And I hope I haven't disappointed you."  

"You haven't."  

"I won't say never -- just ... not right now. Okay?"  

"You know your comfort zone."   

Molly drained her glass and set it on the night stand. I  patted my lap and 
she sat on me. We kissed and then kissed  again. I put my hand on her knee and 
caressed her thigh.  

"Molly -- just to make sure we're on the same page ... I  was referring to ME 
performing oral on YOU."  

Her eyes grew wide. "I'm a lesbian. I ADORE receiving  oral sex." She regarded 
me. "But -- what about you?"   

"I don't care for it."  

"Really?"   

"I don't like how it looks -- a woman with a dick in her  mouth. It looks ... 
degrading."  

"Wow... I didn't think I'd ever..."  

"Of course I'd let myself be persuaded I'm wrong -- if I  could find the right, 
willing volunteer."  

"Maybe sometime," she said.  

I turned down my covers and stretched out with my back  against the headboard. 
"Here," I said and patted the sheet  between my legs. Molly stretched out and 
leaned against my  chest.  

"I am really feeling the Champagne now," she said.  

"Feel good?"   

"Feels good." She ran her hands along my thighs. "Mmm  ... smooth legs... Do 
you see how good your legs look?"  

"No -- I was distracted by how good your legs look." I  slipped my arms around 
her waist and kissed the top of her  shoulder. Then I nuzzled the base of her 
neck. She suppressed a  giggle. "Did that tickle?"  

"No ... it felt good... No one's ever done that."  

"No one's ever nuzzled your neck?"  

"Uh-uhn. And, I like feeling your arms around me."  

I nuzzled her again, this time reaching up and running  my fingers across her 
breasts. I could feel her nipples  responding, and Molly drew in a deep breath. 
"Mmm..." I fondled  her breasts through the fabric of her teddy. "It feels so 
good - - especially with your arms around me..."  

Next I slipped my finger under the fabric and explored  her breast, savoring 
the different textures of her skin. I  looked down on her costume and noticed 
a pair of buttons holding  the bodice together. With a bit of a struggle I managed 
to get  them unfastened and I slipped the left strap off her shoulder to  expose 
her breast.  

I had worked up to a deep massage of both her breasts,  milking them the way 
I knew she liked. Molly kept caressing my  legs, occasionally grabbing my skin 
and digging in her nails.  

"This feels so good," she said. "But there's one  problem..."  

"What's that?" I asked.  

She turned around and knelt straddling my thighs. "I  can't touch you..." She 
began caressing my chest and working my  nipples. "You know -- my roommate in 
college wasn't much bigger  on top than you are..."  

I ran my hands up and down her back and then pulled her  toward me so I could 
tongue her nipples, nursing them and  alternating from left to right.    

"I feel all melty again..." I coaxed her onto her back  and then tried to unsnap 
the crotch of her teddy. "Here -- let  me," she said and worked her nails under 
the fastener.    

I knelt between her knees and caressed her legs from her  thighs to her ankles. 
"You have pretty feet," I remarked.  

"I'm happy with them..."  

"And gorgeous legs. I love your shapely calves."  

"Too shapely," she replied. "I can never find boots I  can zip around them." 

"Skinny legs wouldn't look right on you, Molly."  

"Yes I know. I'm chubby."  

"You're not chubby. You're gorgeous and round and soft  and shapely -- just 
like a woman should be. You have a wonderful  figure -- everything nicely proportioned." 

"I'm happy you like it."  

I began kissing and caressing the insides of her thighs,  working from her knees, 
up. Then I lay between her thighs and  pet her pubic hair. Molly rolled her 
thighs apart. I accepted  her invitation, worked my tongue into her slit and 
pushed it  into her vagina as far as I could, tasting her copious, salty  juices. 
Gently I spread her labia and found the her clit under  its little hood. I kissed 
it -- it was as hard as a pebble. I  began a gentle sucking action while I worked 
my arms under her  thighs, reached up and cupped my hands over her breasts and 
caressed them through the lace.  

"That's good," she said. I felt her flexing her clitoral  shaft and I attempted 
to fine-tune the position of my tongue.  Molly ran her fingers through my hair. 
"Mmm ... just like  that..."   

I couldn't reach to pull her straps off her shoulders;  so instead I went up, 
underneath her teddy and began pinching  and rolling her nipples, my fingers 
against her skin. "Ohhh..."  she moaned. She lifted one arm and then the other, 
crossing her  wrists above her head; and she drew in a deep breath to expand 
her ribcage. She arched and rocked her torso to push her breasts  against  my 
hands.  

I looked up at her through her pubic patch. Molly had  closed her eyes and let 
her head fall to one side. Her nipples  were now very firm and I continued to 
roll them in synch with my  tongue.  Her breathing became panting and I could 
feel her heart  accelerating through the flesh of her breast.  

I looked at her face again. Her eyes were closed, her  brow furrowed and she 
was biting her lip. I had been rolling her  nipples between my thumb and middle 
finger. Now I added brushing  their tips lightly with the nails on my forefingers. 
That did  the trick.  

"Oh, God!" she gasped and groaned. Her thighs began to  tremble.  A red flush 
spread across her face as she chewed her  lip and grimaced, and a vein in her 
forehead began to bulge.  

"Too much, too much!" she panted. I let go of her  breasts and lightened the 
pressure of my tongue 'til I was  barely touching her glans -- all the while 
keeping my rhythm --  then I began caressing her abdomen.  "You can stop," she 
said  and touched my face. "I said you can stop ... oh! It's feeling  good again..." 

I ramped up the pressure with my tongue and reached  under her to grab her buttocks. 
She rotated her pelvis upward  and this gave me a different angle of attack 
on her clit.   

Molly moaned again and gasped. I could feel her coming  this time -- a rhythmic 
pushing of her pelvic floor against my  chin. She fell limp, panting; then tensed 
her legs and I felt  more pulsing. She moaned again. "Oh, God! Stop!" She covered 
her  mons with her hand.  

I came up from between her legs. The flush now extended  to her neck and chest, 
and two wet lines ran from the corners of  her eyes to her temples.  

"You okay?" I asked.  

"I am so very okay..." I helped her sit, cross-legged on  the bed and I lifted 
the teddy from her. She threw her arms  around my neck and covered my face with 
kisses.   

From the nightstand I retrieved the box of condoms, tore  it open and removed 
a foil pouch. Molly helped unroll it onto me  and I stretched out on my back. 
"Ready?" I asked.  

"How do you want me?"  

"On top..."  

Molly climbed onto me on all fours. I held the base of  my shaft and steered 
it to her entrance. She lowered herself  onto me, rolled her eyes upward and 
let out a low groan.  

"Are you all right?" I asked. "Did I hurt you?"  

"It felt good going in -- better than I expected. Why  did you think you hurt 
me?"  

"I was concerned," I replied, "since you said you  haven't..."  

"If there was anything left of my hymen -- that creep in  the alley took care 
of it."  

I bit my tongue. "God, Molly -- I brought him up again.  I'm so sorry."  

"No -- I brought him up this time... I'm okay --  really."  

I held her, my right arm across the small of her back  and my left around her 
shoulder blades; and I rocked my hips to  push into her has deeply as I could. 
Molly brushed some stray  hair off her face and looked into mine. I gazed into 
her blue  eyes and she smiled.  

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.  

"I'm savoring," I replied. "This feels so good."  

"Feels good to me, too." I continued to hold her and  look into her face. "NOW 
what are you waiting for?" she asked.  

"For you."  

"For me?"  

"Yeah -- I did you, now you do me."   

She began rocking her hips. "Like this?"  

"That's good. Build up a rhythm..." I slid my right hand  down her smooth buttocks 
and could feel the muscles in the back  of her thigh as she increased the force 
of her thrusting. I  caressed her bottom and explored the depths of her crevasse 
with  my fingertips. She was quite wet and quite slick from earlier --  I think 
she left a dinner-plate-sized wet spot on the sheet. My  finger encountered 
her anus and I slipped it in, up to my first  knuckle.   

Molly increased the vigor of her thrusting. My finger  slipped in further and 
she pushed harder, grunting with the  exertion.  

"I don't believe it," she panted. "I'm gonna come  again!" She doubled both 
the force and the rhythm of her  humping, and her back was becoming moist.  

Then,  she let out a guttural groan. I could feel her  sphincter tightening 
and pulsing against my finger.   

"Where are you?" she gasped. "Aren't you coming?"  

"Soon..."   

Now I joined the fray, pushing hard against her. I felt  my climax approach. 
"Oh Molly," I grunted. With both hands I  grabbed her buttocks and pressed my 
hips hard against hers and  ejaculated; then I fell limp against the mattress. 

Molly collapsed on top of me. I stroked her hair and  kissed her cheek. She 
turned her face and we kissed on the lips.  

I reached under and snagged the rim of the condom. Molly  rolled off me and 
then snuggled under my arm.  

"That was terrific," I said.  

"I still feel it," she replied. "It feels like you're  still inside me... Mmm... 
I get these little aftershocks..." She  pressed her mons against my hip. "That 
was a good one...  I've  never been big on penetration... I used to play with 
vibrators  but never put one inside me. It felt better than I thought it  would." 

"It felt as good as I thought it would," I replied.   

"And -- where did you learn that tongue action?" she  asked. "I have never come 
more than once..."  

"How many did you have?"   

"Three I think -- not counting the one just now. The  first one felt normal 
... but you wouldn't stop. Then next thing  I knew I was coming again and again. 
It was so intense -- if you  didn't stop I think I could've come a lot more." 

"Then -- why did you make me stop?"  

"Good question... It was just too intense. Still --  where did you learn that 
technique?"  

I shrugged. "It just seems the right way."   

"It is indeed... If other women knew you had that sort  of technique -- you'd 
need to fight them off with a stick."  

"Then it'll be our little secret -- okay?"  


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


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