Message-ID: <31763asstr$996700203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <joseph_lawrence@my-deja.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <200108011425.HAA14941@mail5.bigmailbox.com> From: "joseph_lawrence Last Name" <joseph_lawrence@my-deja.com> Subject: {ASSM} Million to One (MF, m(1st)F, preg, caution) Date: Wed, 1 Aug 2001 17:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/31763> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: kelly, gill-bates A story including sex (not a 'sex story'). The coding is not *quite* precise so as to avoid spoiling the ending. ------------------------------------------------------------ <1st attachment, "Million.txt" begin> Million to One by Joseph Lawrence. The air hung redolent with sweaty, fruitily- acidic passion overlaid with a fetid mawkish pungency. In the close darkness of the bedroom two bodies lay side by side on crumpled sheets, damp with sweat and aromatic fluids seeping unseen into the cloth. A fan, a pair of black lace panty hanging from one blade, murmured above, filling the pair's nostrils with their own, most intimately secret scents. By the bed lay two modest piles of hurriedly discarded outer clothes; the more intimate items lay strewn all over the room; discarded, redundant as protectors of modesty and containers of body hair and personal odours. Little light slipped past the heavy curtains, little noise disturbed the pair as they rested: spent and heart-fillingly satisfied. She gazed up, remembering the moment when he had joyously flicked her panties over his shoulder, and filling herself with the moment soon after when he had held her lithe hips high above the bed and devoured her. Her lips broadened their smile, her soft dark hair splaying out over the skewed pillow. She moved one leg, widening the gap between, allowing the pulse of scent that the thought had raised to escape from beneath the slight wisp of hair that was all what little her panties had covered. Moments later the soft, damp flesh laying on her other thigh filled and warmed a little. Her smile broadened further, then it narrowed to soft contentment as her hand confirmed the filling was too little and already diminishing. She didn't have to work to remember how full it had been and how she had been totally filled and totally fulfilled by its penetrating eruption that spewed forth deep within her. The remnants of that now cooled and dried between her legs. In her mind she felt her legs parted, her flesh opened. She felt her flesh betray her desire, she felt it rise up within her; a rich warmth that filled her, that prepared her and made her want the ultimate moment of penetration. As his raging tight flesh touched her engorged fullness she felt she'd burst. As she felt him slip within she thought she'd die. As she felt him push hard at her inner depths she felt she'd never be able to accommodate his fullness, yet, in at first gentle then more and more rapid and urgent pushings, she been able to let him take her completely. Their pubic bones crushing against each other. Their bodies thrashed together at the moments of completion. Hers came first; a joyous cacophony of shrieks, grunts and gasps that mirrored the grasping and throbbing of her flesh, her whole body cascading in a explosion of light and scent. His followed soon after, held back barely long enough for her to feel it in the quivering aftermath of her own. He buried himself tight within her heat, stretching her to her limit, the pain it should have caused turning to hot hedonistic pleasure in her instinct-laden mind. She felt the pulses that signalled his abandoned emptying into her. She couldn't, in her over-stretched inner womanhood, feel the filling, just the few repeated twitchings of its deliverer. *** It had been a hot slow July afternoon . Too hot to be outside for long. Inside it was cooler, though humid and sticky. Yet Carol lay bikini-clad on a sunlounger on the deck outside. A straw hat draped over her nose and closed eyes. She dozed as the sun cooked her exposed flesh. She didn't notice that above, from a first floor window two boys looked down at her. "Well, what do you think?" asked one quietly? "Is she hot or what?" The other boy shuffled his feat uneasily and shrugged a 'sort-a' shrug. He felt a sharp dig in his ribs. "Are you dead or what? Doesn't she give you a hard-on?" "I." he hesitated, not knowing what he really felt, apart from discomfort. "I suppose so." "What is wrong with you? You're not a gay-boy are you?" There was little response. "You're queer!" The boy pulled away sharply from his companion. "No I'm not!" "Yes you are! Queer! Gay-boy poofta!" "I'm not! I'm not!" "Prove it!" "Prove it? How?" "Show us your hard-on!" "What?!" The boy lunged at his friend, going for the waist of his trousers, wrestling him to the ground; taunting and laughing cruelly, "Show us you pretty little dickey poofta-boy!" In the struggle a chair fell to the floor with a loud thump. A yell rose up and carried out of the window. The pair fell on the bed and moments later a pair of jeans landed on the floor. The door opened suddenly. "What the hell's going on here? Can't you two behave for more than two minutes?" The older boy drew back from his exposed prey. Carol advanced into the room and scowled at the older boy. "Joe, what kinda games have you been playing? I didn't know you're into this sort of thing." "What sort of thing?" answered Joe in a pathetic attempt at nonchalance. Carol raised her eyebrows, and camped up her voice, "This sort of thing, dearie." Then she turned to the boy on the bed. "I'd not turn your back on him if I were you." She looked at him for a few seconds, unable not to avoid noticing the high point in underwear. "Is that for him?" "No," the boy blurted. "For me?" She laughed, "Haven't you seen a girl in a bikini before?" "Yes, well no, not close up, and none as hot as you!" "See Joe, he's not interested in your type, he's a real man." With that she turned and left, pulling the door closed behind her. The younger boy's tent slowly sagged, watched jealously by the older, "What the hell did you do that for dumbass?" "Do what?" "Show her your boner?" "I couldn't help it?" "What do you mean 'couldn't help it'?! Of course you could help it!" "No I couldn't. it just sort of happened!" "'Happened'? No my own sister thinks I'm a gay-boy, because you can't keep your dick down! What the hell is it with you anyway?" "I've never seen anything like that." "Like what?" "A girl with no clothes on." "She had clothes on! Christ, around here we all walk around with nothing. Dad sleeps naked; hell, Mom and even Carol usually walk around in the buff after a shower." "Really? Like nothing on at all?" "Yeah, really. Like its no big deal or nothing." "What, can you see everything, I mean everything?" "Sure. Anyway what's the big deal? I mean, they're my family, so what if I've seen their bits, they've seen my dick often enough." The younger boy sat up, stunned into silence. In all his thirteen years he'd never even seen so much as a cleavage, now his best friend tells him how he's seen it all, tits and everything, even their.. They both heard the squish of the shower starting. For a moment neither boy said anything. Then the younger made a move. "Jon, Where do you think you're going?" "How long does she..?" "Take for a shower? A few minutes; she's just cooling down after being outside." "Joe, do you think. Could I. just sort of. you know." "What? Accidentally on purpose just happen to walk past the bathroom as she gets out of the shower? Give me a break. She'd see through you no trouble. Then we'd be for it. In any case, if you see any more of her, that thing between your legs'll explode. Bang! Bits of you splattered all over the place!" "What's she like? I mean, you know, what she look like down there?" "Like a girl, what do you expect?" "Like, can you see her slit and everything?" "Yeah, cause. She shaves herself." "What down there?" "Yes. Where else do you think I mean?" "God, I reckon I better leave you alone to whack off and get rid of whatever's built up in you. Just don't cream up on the pillow!" Joe had almost got to the door when he heard Jon's voice call timidly, "I can't. cream up." Joe turned. "Really, but you do jack off, right?" "Yeah, 'cause, sometimes." "It feels real good yeah?" "Yes, but I get frightened." "Oh, you wouldn't get frightened when a girl does it to you." "You think so? Has a girl done it to you?" "Oh sure. Remember Lucy?" "Yeah." "In the woods, that's where she jacked me. I shot bucket loads all over her dress." "Over her dress? You're kidding me. Aren't you?" "No kidding." "But you didn't do 'it', did you?" "Well, ok. We didn't go that far - but she did jack me off." "How do you jack them off?" "Who?" "Girls? How do you jack them off? Do them cream up too?" "How the hell should I know?" "Lucy? Didn't you do her? Surely you got to see her. you know. her slit" "Slit? No, why should I want to? I've seen enough pussy here to last a lifetime." "But didn't you want to touch her?" "Touch her? No. do you want to touch a girl then?" "I'd die for a touch." Joe thought for a moment, he might be able to help out his friend. Maybe not to touch a girl, but maybe for a look. "Stay here, and keep your hands off your dick!" He opened the door and walked out. *** "...No WAY!" "Oh come on, he only wants a quick look, he's never seen a girl naked." "I'm not exposing my pussy to some aching dicked-kid, that's final!" "He's ok, he can't even cream yet. Anyway I'll tell Mom and Dad about what you were doing with Gary the other night." "What? You weasel. You don't know nothing about me and Gary." "Oh Gary! Harder! Harder! More! More! Oh shit, I'm cumming!" Carol stared hard at her brother before saying, "O shit. Where's the little lecher?" *** Jon was laying back on the bed as Carol walked in, her brother followed her, closing the door behind him. In the closeness of Joe's bedroom Carol's towel smelt damply fresh. She walked silently around the bed and stood close to its end. "Jon, Joe here says you've never seen a girl naked before. So here you are, even though I'm not a girl no more." She peeled the towel off, pulling the tucked-in end from over her breasts. The damp towel fell heavily to the floor behind her. The sun streamed in through the wide open curtains, harshly spotlighting her naked form. Jon sat up, feeling a vaguely familiar tightness in his loins. Carol's body was perfect, but then to most thirteen year old boys all naked females look perfect. He noticed her glistening brown eyes, her strong nose set above her rounded lips. Her light hair, neither red nor blonde, glowed, its colour amplified by dampness. Her breasts held themselves tightly to her chest, they were not as big or as full as some he'd illicitly glimpsed in magazines or on the beach, but they were dick-stiffeningly female, and, his gaze fixed on them, he saw their ridged nipples standing firm on coin sized pimpled rings. That was enough, he felt a feeling he'd only felt from his own hand on his dick, a feeling of flowing and pulsing, as if some fluid was driving thorough it and particularly around its end. He became aware of his balls moving gently yet uncontrollably in his lightly haired sack. He didn't feel the feelings as pleasant, rather they were exciting and unsettling. He didn't know whether he should want the feelings or not, whether they were right or wrong. He dared his gaze to go lower, to actually set his eyes upon a woman's parts. His heart raced, pumping, pumping, pumping. The feelings in his dick grew stronger with each pulse. Carol saw the poor boy's eyes flitting over her body, glancing fearfully at her breasts before darting to her pussy. She wondered how a boy could go thirteen years without ever really seeing a naked woman. She felt sorry for him, he felt sorry for all of her brat brother's friends, 'who wouldn't be?' she mused. She didn't feel embarrassed standing before him, nor even exposed, even when she considered the rampant hard-ons she was undoubtedly producing in both the boys. She knew nothing would happen, after all they were both just thirteen, and Joe was her brother. She didn't feel proud for giving them such a thrill, she wasn't sufficiently naive not to realise that practically any female would have produced much the same reaction. She had known Jon for a year or more and had noticed his glances and stares. She knew that Gary liked the way she looked, and he was the one who mattered. She had shaven carefully for a year, mainly so that she could wear that really cool swimwear. Its thin lines meant that she had to keep her pussy itself clear of hair, allowing it to cover only a relatively small area of her mons. Later, with Gary, she realised that her bare flesh felt more from a man's touch, and the more bare flesh she had, the more those men seemed to want to touch her. She couldn't work out why some girls she knew didn't shave at all. At least Jon would get a good first view of pussy. Jon looked furtively at Carol's thing. 'God,' he thought, 'she's got a lot of hair there.' Below her bush he saw her slit, two rounded pencil folds of mounded flesh, slightly darker than that around them. There was little in-between. The slit slipped out of sight below her, between her tightly clamped thighs. He realised he was staring and pulled himself away. Carol reassured him gently, "Its ok, you're allowed to look. For a little while anyway. Here." She relaxed her stance, parting her legs a little and tipping her head slightly to allow her hair to run free over her left shoulder. "Christ!" exclaimed Joe behind her. "If you're going to go on like that you can get out now!" "Ok, ok!" Jon turned back to Carol's wondrous naked form. She wasn't just a woman, she was a goddess. He smelt her clean warmth, it reminded him of his distant childhood, of his mother. He reached out his hand for her. She pulled back before he got anywhere close. "Go on - let him touch you." "Shut up you rat! The deal was for eyes only, nothing else." "Gary, how can you get so big? Now, again.no, not like that, we don't need one of those this time my love." " " She looked at the boy on the bed, lost and lonely. She looked at the evil one by the door, "Only if you bugger off out of here. I'm not going to give my own brother a free grope." "Oh Gary! Harder!" "Sod off turd-face!" The door slammed shut. The two were alone. Carol knelt down on the floor and reached over to the frightened boy's face. She stroked his forehead gently. "Don't worry about my shit-face brother. I'll make him pay for this later. Do you still want to touch me?" "Yes," Jon whimpered. "Where?" she asked softly. "In this bedroom." "Yes," she laughed gently, "I meant where on my body? My breasts? My pussy?" "Your pussy," he gasped. Jon had never thought he could have touched her. her parts. she chuckled, "A bit forward aren't we? Well, we can't let you do that like this. No, that's no good. Here, budge over." He hesitated. She nodded her head, indicating the side of the bed closest to the window. He shuffled himself over a foot or so. She climbed on the bed close beside him, laying face up. "Right," she said ever so softly as she took his hand in hers and guided it over her body, "here." She placed his hand on her mound, cupping his still small hand, pressing it into her clipped hair. "Oh God," he blurted. Is that...?" "Yes," she smiled. "Go on, touch me," she said, pushing his trembling hand lower. She felt his cold fingers touch the folds of her larger lips. She parted her legs, keeping her thigh pressed to his. Her lips separated slightly. His fingertips froze on them. She pushed them down the valley between her mound and her thigh. "Those are my outer labia: my lips. They protect the rest of me." "Protect the rest? What rest?" "Here, I'll show you." She wondered why she was doing this. Partly it was to alleviate the feelings that had grown in her as she lay outside wanting Gary to take her. Partly it was to spite her brother, to do willingly what he had tried to force her to do. Partly it was the illicitness of it all, letting a young boy feel her up. Partly it was the result of the growing motherliness that she felt for him. She felt she wanted to teach him something, something he'd need later in life. It wasn't about sex, she wasn't going to have sex with him, rather she wanted to teach him something about women. He wasn't doing anything sexual, despite his pounding erection, and that she was naked on a bed with him. No, she was helping him, giving him something special. Something practically any girl could have given him, it just so happened that she was the one who did. She took his fingers in hers, guiding them down, along and then between her labia. He rolled on to his side as his short arms ran out of reach, pressing his still covered erection into her side. "Those," she said as his fingertips slipped over a wrinkled but now firming warm fleshy flap, "are my inner labia, my small lips. They're very sensi." she caught her breath, "sensitive.". "No," she added as she felt him pull back, "its good sensitive, very good. Here, you touch them by yourself." She let go of his fingers. He did not know what to do, or whether to do it. She felt his nervousness, "run them along it, go on, feel all of them. Feel." She gasped loudly. "Yes, feel them." "What's happening?" He asked as he stopped moving his fingers over her. "That feels good." "Good? It sounds like you're hurting?" "No," she took his fingers and moved them over to her other, now succulently full, lip, "See, I've opened for you." He didn't see. He couldn't see or imagine. In his mind he still saw her tightly closed outer lips. He sat up. "Where are you going?" "To see, I want to see!" Then he saw, gone was her girlish slit. Her heavily pimpled outer folds splayed widely. Between, her fleshy inner lips buckled and glistened, their dark fringes thinning as they disappeared below. Above they joined and disappeared under a tight looking hood-like fold. There was no 'hole' to be seen. "Can you see now?" "God yes. Wow its fantastic, I can see your lips, all of them, they look kinda rubbery don't they?" "I guess so, do they feel rubbery?" "Oh!" he gasped, remembering to use his fingers. "No, well, not really, they're more, well, soft and slippery. But where's -" "Where's what?" "Your hole?" "My hole...? Well, there isn't one. Not really." "But I thought girls had a hole for boys to stick their things in." "Things...? Eh? Well, we have, sort of, but they're not empty holes. Normally our vaginas are closed up, they only open when they have to take your thing in them. Do you see?" "No, not really? So is your... err... cunt, a hole or what?" "Don't call it a cunt, that's so juvenile. Its my pussy, or my vagina if you like." "But didn't I see your pussy earlier?" "Yes, but. oh here I'll show you!" She moved his fingers down further. They mingled with the lubrication she had been making for some minutes. "There, feel that?" "Feel what?" "That slipperiness, and the heat coming from inside me?" "Oh god yes, I can feel it! I really can!" She thought for a moment as to whether she'd gone too far. Her mother would have said far too far, but she sort of enjoyed Jon's clumsy exploration. So what if he felt her? What did it really matter if he got a little pleasure, she was getting it too. She pressed his fingertips a little lower and pushed them in. Her folds parted around them and three of his thin fingers slipped inside her up to the first joint. "Now," she gulped between gasps, "can you,", "...feel that? That's my 'hole', my 'cunt'." "Shit!" he gasped, "that's beautiful." He pushed his hand in a little further, her fingers at first resisted, then as her knuckles pressed hard against something further up they released their grip. She abandoned herself to the feelings inside her. He slipped in to his knuckles, his other, bent, fingers rested on the folds of her inner labia. He held his position. So far the instinct to thrust anything placed in a woman's pussy had not developed in him. She closed her eyes, opening them a few moments later when she realised he was not going to frig her. "That's the best thing in the world!" he said excitedly, "You're the best!" "No," she mouthed as the feelings of fullness subsided a little. "There's one more thing you really need to know." Reluctantly, but realistically, she pulled his hand from her. His fingers were soaked with her deliciously aromatic lubrication. "Aw," he protested, "that was lovely. Can I do it again?" "That was lovely, but this is even lovelier, I promise." Her chest heaved as with each breath she slipped his gently resisting fingers up her labia, pressing his tips to hers. She fought the instinct to heave her hips up, though she couldn't prevent her breath becoming steadily more ragged. He felt his fingertips touch a rounded peak, a bud of tight flesh. As they did so she released a gasp. Her eyes closed tightly, her breast heaved with her chest, her nipples firm and slightly proud. She felt a rush as his well-lubricated fingers rubbed her bud, "There, I told you it was lovely. Isn't it?" "Oh yes, but what is it?" "It's my - Oh god yes - There, move your fingers up and down - all over it." "Yes, but what is it?" "My clitor... Christ yes. Don't stop!... clitoris - rub my clit! Please!" "What's happening to you? Please tell me? You're frightening me!" "It feels really good, for God's sake don't stop now. It doesn't hurt, its really goo...aaaahhhh...dddd...." "But how can it feel good?" He tried to pull away, but she held him firm and urged him to continue. Now she let go to her urges and bucked her hips up, holding his fingers tight to her delicate clit. "Damn it... Oooooooo... I'll show you how good it feels!" With that she reached between the writhing pair and slipped her hand deftly into his exposed underwear. She wasted no time in finding his modest cock, still not fully grown. Taking it in her hand she rubbed it powerfully as her other hand guided his fingers ever stronger and faster over her clit and inner lips. His dick ached, his mind reeled, his fingers flew, his sweat poured. A woman was jacking him off, just as Lucy had jacked Joe. Jon was afraid he'd cream up over the freshly showered Carol. He felt new, incredibly powerful sensations but his fear prevented them from fully forming. Suddenly he felt her grasp his dick firmly, too firmly - it hurt. She arched her hips high and held them there, crying out over and over. Not words, just cries, eloquent meaningless syllables that everyone knew the meaning of. Cries of release, cries of lust, cries of passion, cries of orgasm, cries of cumming. 'What have I done to her? Have I killed her?' he thought as she slumped back on the bed. 'No, she's not dead' he thought as he felt trembles and pulsations in the flesh beneath his fingers. So much was new, so much was frightening, so much about women was alien to him. He had no idea what she had just experienced, his own dick still ached, its short inches feeling like long feet. His heart still thumped, he could see from her chest that her's did too, though slower than his. He sat up, looking at her slumped, spent body. He could see her pussy clearly now, it lay open, nothing hindering his inquisitive gaze. Her lips looked raw red yet glistened with something, presumably the slippery stuff from her hole. Then he finally noticed the smell; a pungent aroma. It filled the air, and it made his dick ache even more, its tight flesh pulling itself even more painfully thin. She was right, it wasn't a hole really, just a place where a hole could be, if it needed to be, and it was open and visible for him. He could just reach down and push his fingers in again. He lifted himself, to release his arm. Her fingers let go their grasp and fell away from his dick. He reached out. and stopped. Why not roll on to her and slip his dick in? She wouldn't mind. Hadn't she said it'd open for him to put his thing in? He looked again, her pussy was fully open, that was certain. Her legs lay widely splayed, she was ready, her slippery stuff was all over her lips. He made his move. Kneeling between her legs, he reached down to his dick. Holding it firmly he shuffled forwards carefully, trying not to touch her thighs. When he inevitably did she drew them up and away, opening herself even more, making his next move simple, even for him. He leant forward, placing his hands on the bed either side of her chest. His dick bobbed in mid air. He looked at her face. Her eyes were still closed, a contented smile lay on her lips. Her breasts rose and fell slowly and evenly beneath his pounding chest, never touching. 'God yes, just one touch', he thought, 'that's all, just one touch.' He lowered his hips still further, his thighs touched hers. His tightly swollen dick tip touched something: something yielding, something moist. He lunged his hips forward. His near-bursting tip held for a moment, then moved down and slipped in, the moist flesh closing behind his tender ridge. His heart leapt to his mouth and its beat filled his ears. His eyes flooded blindly as his loins exploded in sensations so strong that he thought he was bursting apart. She felt him climb on her, his thighs pressing firmly down on hers, begging them still further apart. She barely felt his entry, even as rough and ill-aimed as it was. She felt a warmth, a fullness between her legs, and thinking it was his hand she reached down through her post-orgasmic haze. She never got there, instead the boy collapsed on top of her, gasping and crying. She felt his pulsating within her, she felt his racing heart close to hers. She felt him make one feeble attempt at a thrust before his softening member slipped out of her gaping pussy. He didn't know what hit him. His whole body tensed up and he felt as though he was pissing bricks. He couldn't see anything, he couldn't feel anything except the uncontrollable lurching of his hips. Then he felt her rough pushes, driving him up and off her. She was shouting at him over and over, "Get off! What the hell do you think you're doing? Did you cum?" She asked him over and over "Did you cum? Did - You - Cum!?" "I don't know. Did I?" "Fucking boys! They can't be trusted to do anything right! Did you cum or not?" "Cream up?" "Yes, cream up - cum!" "I can't cream up yet." "Are you sure you can't? That sure felt like you came!" "Did it? Did it feel good?" "What? Yes, I guess it did in a way? But did you cum properly? You know, cream in me?" "No, I can't! I can't!" he cried, his final words coming through a whimper, "I can't." She rushed out, grabbing her towel and heading for the shower. Joe crept in a few moments later. "Well, did you do 'it'?" "Why the hell should I tell you Joe?" "She's my sister! Well did you?" "It," he thought for a moment, was what he'd done really 'it'? "No, we didn't do it. She just jacked me off. AND I now know how to jack girls off and you don't!" "Did you cream up on her?" "No. No, I didn't, but it sure felt like it!" "Yeah, it's the best isn't it?" "Yeah Joe, it's the best...." *** It was six months before Jon plucked up enough courage to bring himself to cum for the first time. For the rest of the summer he had been too scared to even touch himself. Once the leaves started to fall and with them the swimsuit season, he finally gave in to the need, and desire, to jack himself, but only when he was desperate, and he always stopped when the feelings got close to growing uncomfortably out of control. He avoided Joe's house, for a while he even avoided Joe. When school finally came round Jon had to come to terms with Joe. He soon found that he had acquired an almost legendary reputation among boys, one he both loved and hated. His reputation among girls was understandably more mixed. He had become a target of suspicion, adulation and derision and in more than one instance, outright hate. In the face of continuous rumour, innuendo, and giggling behind his back he retreated into himself, becoming quiet and withdrawn, rarely joining in with anything. He left school the moment the bell rang, preferring to study than hang out. Joe tried to bring him out of his shell, but his efforts were only rewarded by Jon withdrawing still further. That autumn Carol married Gary. Jon felt more and more alone, his parents heard the rumours and Jon had barely been able to persuade them that they were false. Yet he kept on hearing them quietly saying, 'There's no smoke without fire'. The problem was that the rumours were false. They said Jon had seduced a fourteen year old into going with him. The rumours varied as to who the fourteen year old was, at least four names kept cropping up. All four were practically ostracised, the aftershocks of Jon's supposed sweaty afternoon reverberated through three schools. With his parents only barely on his side, and his best friend accused of starting the rumours, Jon studied harder and harder. His until then occasional notes in his diary grew more frequent, and darker. A month is a long time for a young teenager, two months are eternity. The rumours died out, and fairly soon after, when it was clear Jon wasn't shagging every girl, his reputation began to diminish too. By November he could go to school mostly unnoticed, yet his emotional scars would take much longer to heal. Christmas passed by mainly in an empty haze. The chill of the New Year finally drew him out. He saw in the New Year standing alone in his parent's garden. They watched him quietly from an upstairs window. He stood there, the bitter cold biting into him, looking out into the chill- starred night. Later that night, as he lay in bed crying; listening to the creaks, thumps and grunts of his parent's muffled love-making, he slipped his hand up and down his young length. He didn't care about the feelings of loss of control that grew in his loins. The noises grew faster, the thumps intensifying. His hand moved faster, his heartbeat intensifying. His rhythm matching the noises, pump for thump, gasp for grunt. When it happened it took him by surprise. The noises went on but he didn't hear them. His hip rose off the bed, held high as his flying hand stilled, tightly gripping, gripping. The first pulse grabbed him, blinding him, throwing him high. The next followed almost instantly, this time there was something else, his dick burned. Then another, a fourth and a fifth. Jon had no way of stopping whatever was happening to him, something possessed him, taking him over completely, and it drained him totally. When his sight returned, at first Jon dared not see what had happened. He knew of course, but he felt that until he had seen it he'd think it had happened to someone else. His punished dick had softened, and he felt something damp on his hand and thighs. He flung the covers back with one arm, he dared not move his other, keeping its grip on his flaccid dick. He fumbled for the light switch. He turned it on, his eyes smarting in the sudden bright light. He stopped for a moment, basking in the feeling of empty contentment emanating from his spent loins. The noises continued: the creaks rhythmically betraying his parent's lust, the gasps proclaiming their still increasing abandonment. Looking down he saw what he knew he must see. Thin films of yellowy fluid trickling over his hand. He had come at last. With the old year past, Jon's world slowly brightened. Joe finally managed persuade Jon that he had not started the rumours; steadily, they were seen together more often yet still Jon would never go to Joe's house. At the end of January came a red- letter day for Jon and Joe: Joe's party. It was the first time that Jon had stepped foot inside Joe's house since that July afternoon. For a while things seemed to go well enough, until Carol stepped into the room. She wasn't staying, she was going out to the movies with her husband, Gary. Jon's eye latched onto her swollen belly. Gary put his arm around her, she lightly rubbed the bump. She turned to him and spoke a few silent words to his ear. Then with a shake of her head she stopped and turned away. Moments later she and Gary left. Later Jon followed their route out into the misty, damp night. He never entered that house again. *** Jonathon sat up. Rebecca was gone, the sheets where she had lain were damp and dimpled. He smiled to himself as he ran his hand over the damp patch. He liked these quiet afternoons, infrequent as they were. Rebecca liked them too, as she reminded Jonathon as she re-entered the bedroom, "Glad you could join us, stranger. When was the last time you had the afternoon off? Oh yes," she said rubbing the slightly protruding area around her navel, "eleven weeks ago. Wasn't it?" "Go on, rub it in why don't you?" "No," she replied sitting on the bed gently beside her partner. She took his hand and guided it to her naked belly, "You rub it in for us." He did. "We'll have to be more creative soon you know?" "More creative?" "Yes, it'll get bigger you know. Is there any way you've always wanted to try but been afraid to ask to try? Soon we'll need all the wild ideas we can get." Jonathon had never really stopped to think about the problem. Really stopped that is. Somehow he had imagined that they'd carry on making love like they always had. Joyous hard thrusting missionary and quieter, cuddlier, gentler side by side rear entry. "Well." he began. "Yes? What kinky idea is trying to get out of that mind of yours?" "Oh, its nothing." Rebecca glanced down the bed. His rapidly twitching half-erection told that it was more than nothing. "Come out, out with it Bunny-snugs!" "Don't call me that?" "What?" "That!" "What? Bunny-snugs?" "Yes. That?" "Ok, only if you tell me, Snugsy." "Ok, ok, anything to stop that!" He paused, looking into her eyes. "You get on the bed straddling me." "What," she asked as she got on the bed, swinging her right leg over his torso, "Like this?" "No, the other way." She looked puzzled for a moment, "...the other way?" "Yes, facing away." "Oh...." Awkwardly she got up and turned round, sitting down roughly on his belly." "Ok," he gasped as she bore down on him. "Now get down on all fours." She did as he asked. He held her thighs and pulled her back up the bed until his head disappeared between her strong legs. Her love-filled belly hung down, resting lightly on his chest. She kissed the nearest thing, his cock, caressing it with her tongue, "Oh my love, if you'd wanted to sixty-nine all this time why didn't you just ask?" "Who," he gulped from behind closed eyes, "who said anything about sixty-nine? This is just sixty." He reached down and lifted her away from him. As she looked lovingly at his length he devoured her, lapping at her pudenda, laid out above him perfectly by gravity. His mouth cupped her outer lips, his tongue slipping deep into her. Her fluids seeping out into his mouth. Soon she shuddered, and moments later felt the need to resist his instruction to leave him alone. *** "My mother arrives on Wednesday." "She can't! I've not got the waterhole ready!" She felt the pressing of his still hot member on her panty-clad buttocks. "Do you ever stop?" She turned on the tap, reaching down and splashing the cool water on her flushed cheeks and forehead. The bathroom smelt of sex, the bedroom reeked of it: juicy, smoky, fruity and totally lascivious. "I have stopped!" "Only because you couldn't cum anymore. What did you say? Oh yes, 'If I cum anymore my balls'll burst!'" She wiggled her buttocks on his pressing loins. "God, don't. They really will burst if you did that. Then where we'd be eh?" "I don't care," she said playfully, "I've got what I wanted." She looked into the mirror over the basin, reaching round to his hands and bringing them round to her belly. "I've got what I wanted right here." She saw his smile in the mirror. "If you get anymore ideas like that, save them for later. A -" they completed the phrase together, "...After my mother goes home." Rebecca's mother was something of a mystery to Jonathon. She appeared not to have a name, she was always simply "My Mother". From what little he could gather Rebecca was, like Jonathon, an only daughter. He smiled at thinking about himself as a daughter. My Mother appeared to be alone now. Rebecca's father had gone long ago. She reminisced of him in delicate, loving terms, and as far as Jonathon could gather her parents parting had been as amicable as such a life changing event could be. Precisely why they split was something Jonathon had not got out his otherwise very willing partner. So Wednesday it was to be. The day when they would announce that they were going to marry. The day they'd announce that they were going to have a baby. Rebecca had behaved remarkably when she, unexpectedly, found out she was pregnant. They had decided to get married long before. The baby made no difference to the arrangements. It had been difficult to fix a day around her commitments, and considering the amount of time they had had together it was remarkable they had had time to conceive at all. Rebecca confessed to Jonathon that she had been worried that she might have been infertile, as her father had so nearly been. At least that was the reason she gave for not being very careful about contraception, and the fact they were getting married in any case. It was a million to one chance: her conception. She was born in May, seven short months after her father and My Mother married. Despite many years and almost as many sets of bedsprings trying they had never managed to conceive again. Rebecca remained an only child. He was in a band, and My Mother apparently blamed his drinking for their lack of further children. In the end tests had proved that his sperm count was very low. The fact that he had impregnated My Mother showed that it hadn't always been, or maybe, he they just got lucky - literally a million to one shot. Rebecca was a pianist, not on the concert circuit, but she was a very accomplished and in- demand accompanist. Too much in-demand for Jonathon's needs. He was a university lecturer. Years of lonely determined study had finally paid off. It was a quiet enough life, boring even, until one evening the loving Rebecca had walked into his life. He couldn't play, could barely sing and yet it was in his bed that she chose to lay. His life she chose to share and his body she eventually chose to enjoy, and his child to carry. *** Wednesday came too soon. Jonathon came home to find My Mother's luggage in the hall. 'How can stuff for a couple of days expand to fill that much space,' he mused, thinking of a possible theme for a cosmology lecture. Rebecca came out excitedly to meet him. "Have you told her yet?" he whispered. "Told her what?" "That", he held his hand to her belly. It didn't show yet, but it couldn't be hidden for ever. "No, I thought I'd let you," she said matter of factly. 'Oh My Mother, I've got your unmarried daughter pregnant.', "Are you serious?" "No," she chuckled. "Come on in and meet my mother." She led Jonathon in to the room, rather like she had done into her hotel bedroom for their first time. "Mother," she said bubbly, "This is my fiance, Jonathon." "Jonathon?" she said staring at him. "Eh? Do I know you?" "Err, no, I don't think so. So, Becky dear, did you mention fiance?" "Yes mother." "Well, it's about time! Twenty-two and how many boyfriends have you had?" "Mother!" "Come one Becky, its not as if you've been playing the field. Jonathon, how do you measure up? Are you sure you're still up to it?" "Measure up? Still? How DO you mean?" "You're no spring chicken are you?" "I'm only thirty-five!" "Yes, but do you have what it takes to please my Becky?" "I'm more than pleased," Rebecca said as she adjusted her stance, bringing her legs closer together, "I love him." "Love. yes, well that's all very well, but Jonathon can you give my daughter what she needs?" "I think," he said squirming uncomfortably, "that's a matter for your daughter and I." A heavy silence followed, broken by Rebecca's mother. "Well, be that as it may, can you give my daughter children?" "What? How dare you!" "Oh, get off that high horse and get real! Mothers have to think of these things you know." "Mother, just because you got messed about, doesn't mean I will too!" "Rebecca, I don't know what you're talking about." "Yes you do! We've been through all this. So Dad couldn't give you more kids, what does that have to do with me?" "God only knows how he managed to spawn you.." "Anyway, you don't need to worry about that." "Oh yes? Why?" Jonathon hid his face with his hand. This was not at all how it should have happened. But Rebecca always did have an impulsive, reckless streak. "Because I'm pregnant!" "You're.!" her mother gasped. "Yes, about eleven weeks. It'll show quite soon." "Pregnant, then married! My daughter!" "No, well, yes. No!" "What I think Rebecca is trying to tell you is that we decided to get married long ago, before she. we. well, before." "And you don't even tell your mother?!" "Mother, we're telling you now, and anyway you've not always been exactly easy to get hold of." "That's no excuse." She paused for a second. Her tone became softer, "So, when are these, err, happy events going to happen? Am I invited?" "The wedding's at the end of September, you're invited to that, though I'd prefer it if you left the birth to us." "Well of course." "So," she said turning to Jonathon, "how did you two meet? Was my daughter the best lay you'd ever had or what?" "Mother!" *** Jonathon at first didn't know how to deal with Rebecca's mother. She latched on to him and didn't seem to be worried that her candidness embarrassed him. He half expected her to want to witness an example of their lovemaking, just to make sure it was sufficient for her daughter. As dinner loomed he managed to prise himself away for a few minutes to join Rebecca in the kitchen. "God, is she always like this?" "No! I don't know what on earth has come over her." "Just watch out. If she gets out a tape measure and comes for me I'll be out of here quicker than a ferret up a drainpipe." She giggled at the rather unexpected metaphor. That was one of the things that first attracted her to him, he never quite seemed to think like everyone else, he was a true original: one in a million. "Well, she does seem to like you." "Well, that's all very good, but do you know I still don't know her name." "Surely not." "Yes, for real. I can't go on calling her 'My Mother'. She isn't for a start, and it'll cause all sorts of confusion at our wedding!" Before Rebecca could answer My Mother's voice sailed in, "Oh, while you're out there Jonathon, do you think you could get me some more ice?" *** "So, seriously, what do you two plan to do after the wedding?" "Well Mother, we're not really sure yet." "One of us will have to give up work of course. I quite like the idea myself. I can still do some stuff, maybe get on with that book I've always promised myself I'd write." "A book, Jonathon? A hot steamy epic?" "Oh yes, steam on every page. Real hot stuff." "On every page? Now that's a book I'd like to read." "Really? You're interested in industrial steam locomotives then?" Rebecca's mother laughed, they all did. Jonathon's initial unease had begun to wear off. She seemed to like Jonathon and even liked his flat. It was modestly spacious, the first floor of a hundred and twenty year old town house. There was space enough for a small family, there was little doubt that there was no cause for motherly alarm. She revealed little about herself however, and by some miracle she remained 'My Mother'. She eventually went to bed, in the untidy room which was destined for the baby. The tired couple sighed happily, dragging themselves hand in hand to the main bedroom. They undressed, thought vainly for a moment of sex, then climbed into bed and turned out the light. *** Something woke Jonathon early. He dragged himself out of bed, throwing on a robe. He headed for the bathroom. The door was closed, as he trudged along the hall it opened and the naked form of My Mother stepped out. She smiled at him politely, giving him a cheery "Good Morning!" as she brushed unashamedly past. She disappeared into her room. Jonathon couldn't help but note that for a mother of a twenty-two year old she was in great shape. She can't have been much older than him, she must have had his Rebecca early. She was instantly attractive, alluring and frankly sexy. In fact, as the bulge in his robe betrayed, he now knew where Rebecca's irresistibly sensual curves came from. He cursed her attractiveness, aborted his walk to the bathroom and retreated to his bedroom where he prayed Rebecca was awake and in a willing but quiet mood. "What's got into you?" Rebecca purred as he caressed her nipple under the quilt. "Shushh. Your mother's up." "If you keep on doing that that'll make three, no four of us." He rolled her firming nipple between finger and thumb. "Stop that. She'll hear us." "Go on," he said, pushing his other hand under the quilt, "let her. Its not as if she doesn't know we make love." As his hands occupied both her nipples she drew back the quilt, slipping it off her body, uncovering herself. The morning light cascaded in, lighting her belly. She drew her knees up, arching her legs. She breathed strongly, he leaned over her, she searched for his lips, as they met hers she drew her ankles up to her buttocks and let her knees drop wide apart. She broke away from his lips, "Taste me. lick me, eat me up." Taking one of his hands and leading it down her body she asked again, "Please. eat me." She rubbed his open hand over her open pussy, allowing him to feel her readiness. She was not fully wet, but she was more than ready enough to feel his tongue on her palpitating clitoris and take it into her quivering lips, his lips sliding lusciously over hers, his nose taking in all of her delicate scent. A noise, a click. A footstep. "Good morning you two! I thought - Oh my god!" The caught couple made futile attempts to cover up their activities, and themselves. The quilt was hurriedly pulled up, hands pulled back from breasts and elsewhere. Rebecca gulped, "Good Morning Mother. This isn't your home, we don't enter rooms without knocking first!" "And I think we'd better not walk around without any clothes too," added Jonathon. "Mother! You didn't?!" "Well why not? There's nothing here you two've not seen before. As I can well see." "But that's different! We're in love!" When she had gone Jonathon asked his love affectedly, "Does she have no shame?" "She used to, after Gary left. When he was still around they often used to do all sorts all over the house, at it like rabbits they were, anywhere and everywhere. Then, oh I don't know when, maybe I was ten or so, they just sort of petered out. When he left she sort of became 'normal' thank God." "Gary, was that your father?" "Yes, that was him." "And your mother?" "Carol." Jonathon started, getting up. "Carol? Are you sure?" "Yes, of course I'm sure, she's my mother." "No, it can't be." He thought on, 'It's a million to one chance, surely. There must be hundreds of Carols and Garys.' "Is something wrong?" "No, well, I'm sure there isn't." But he wasn't so sure. *** The rest of the day went quietly, subdued by the embarrassment of the morning. Jonathon pleaded for Rebecca to come with him as when he took her mother to the station for her journey home. The first ten minutes of the drive were silent. Then, well away from Rebecca and home he came out with it, "I don't know how to say this, but do you remember letting a boy feel you up?" "A boy?" she said strangely curious. "A thirteen year old boy. You showed him yours, and he felt yours." "Err," she squirmed, "a boy. well." "Look, are you the Carol I. I. lost my virginity to?" "Jonathon. Jon? That Jon - little Jon? Joe's friend?" "Yes." It was his time to squirm. "You've grown - in every way I think." "It was twenty odd years ago!" "I think my daughter's in good, err. hands. Even if I say it myself you had a good tutor." "How can you sit there like that - so damn calm?" "Why? Do you think you were the only boy I had? I had all sorts, big small, old, young, well, ok so you were the youngest." "What? Is that anything to boast about? Slutting around with everything with three legs?" "Slutting around? Let me tell you I'm not ashamed of any of it. I can't help it if I've got, well, had a great body and boys liked me, and I liked them?" "So which one of these boys gave you Rebecca? From what I can tell she can't be Gary's?" "Oh she was Gary's alright. or perhaps. no, that's not possible." "How can you tell?" "Because I loved Gary, once we'd met I stopped all that sleeping around." "Stopped? You were only sixteen." "So I started young, what's wrong with that? I was only twelve when I first enjoyed sex. It was fun, nothing more. I'm allowed to have fun aren't I? Anyway you can't talk, how old were you? Thirteen wasn't it? I don't think you were exactly worried about who you went to bed with? How many conquests was it before my Rebecca then? Ten, twenty, a hundred, how many sweet little students of yours have laid on that bed I saw you on with my daughter?" "None." "None? You really expect me to believe that a randy little thirteen year old who couldn't keep himself out of my cunt would save himself for anyone?" "Believe what you like. I had no one before Rebecca." "Except her mother!" "I didn't, not properly!" "Oh, and that wasn't your cumming cock that you put inside me?" "No, I didn't come." "Yes, you did!" "No, I didn't. Not properly, I didn't ejaculate. I couldn't until six months after." "I've got news for you. You came. You ejaculated all right. You put your little yellow spunk in me." "No!" he shouted. "No I couldn't have. I couldn't cum." "Yes you could, and you did!" 'Yellow?' he thought, 'how did she know that?' Only with his first three or four comes did he produce yellow semen, after that it faded to the more expected white, or at least soft grey. Could she be right after all? No, of course not, she was lying. If he had come then maybe, just maybe. no, it was impossible, he knew he hadn't come in Carol, he'd always known he hadn't. Why should that have changed? She left on the train as expected. Jonathon was glad he wouldn't have to see the witch again until the wedding. *** Three weeks later Jonathon rushed into the hospital. Rebecca had been taken ill during a rehearsal. Severe bleeding they said. No one said what that might mean. When he got to her bedside he cried as she slept after the operation. There was to be no birth, no happy-ever-after. Later when he stood by the consultant's desk he was asked if he wanted to sit down. He cheerfully declined - he was then told to sit. Rebecca would be ok, the consultant told him, she'd lost a lot of blood, and she'd come very close to death. She'd lost the baby. That shattered Jonathon, in time but more was to come. A week later, with Rebecca due to come out of hospital, the consultant told him that she, for it would have been a girl, had a very rare congenital defect: she couldn't have lived. "What the hell does 'very rare' mean? Will it happen if we try again?" "You won't be able to try again. The miscarriage will almost certainly leave your fianc, unable to have any more babies. We'll have to do further tests, we'll need some blood tests and maybe some genetic counselling. Though this sort of problem very rarely happens here." "What do you mean?" "Its unfortunately relatively common in close island communities with some degree of inbreeding, but I've never heard of any case here, it's a million to one chance I'm afraid, though I doubt that helps you now." "Inbreeding?" "Yes, of course there's no chance of that with you and your fiance," the consultant wondered at Jonathon's pained expression, "is there?" "Tell me," Jonathon gulped painfully through his tears, "what chance is there of a thirteen year old virgin getting a sixteen year old pregnant with his very first ejaculation?" "Very first? Oh, that's rather dramatic isn't it?" "Doctor, tell me, what's the chance?" "It practically doesn't happen. None to speak of - a million to one maybe." Ends Joseph Lawrence, 2001 <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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