index


Message-ID: <37115asstr$1025435402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Spiller -" <spiller48@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} NEW: Mrs. Jones (Fm)
Date: Sun, 30 Jun 2002 07:10:02 -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


---------------------------------------------------------------
This story is adult material. If you are too young, or you live
in a place where this stuff is forbidden, you should leave now.
Remember: Authors' only reward are your comments, good or bad, so
please take a minute to mail an opinion to: Spiller48@hotmail.com
----------------------------------------------------------------

Mrs. Jones.  (Fm)

      by Spiller


  The year I turned 14 I got my first job. My father had died 5
years earlier, and mom had her hands full, providing for me and
my sister. There was never enough money to go round, and a weekly
allowance was out of the question. Not that I complained much. I
loved my mom and my sister, and our family was a good place to
grow up. So when the need for money turned up, a ticket to a
movie, a fancy add-on for my bike, or whatever, I got myself a
job every afternoon. 'Office messenger boy' I believe was the
correct name for it, and it was at a local, medium sized toy
factory. I was to hang out around Mrs. Jones' office, and be on
alert to run papers, orders etc. to the different departments,
plus the odd trip out of the house to banks, post office and the
likes. Mrs. Jones was the boss' secretary, and a very kind and
nice lady she was, somewhere around 40, I guessed.

  In those days computers were new, and in the factory mostly
used as text machines. But that spring they upgraded, brought in
new computers for administration and all, and one day I asked
Mrs. Jones if I could have one of the old computers in a corner
of her office, so I could try to teach myself  typing during the
small breaks of 15 to 30 minutes, where I didn't have to run
errands. She was most obliging, and even offered to make a little
private corner in the store room adjacent to her office. There I
was installed with an old computer, a chair, a small computer
table, and a book with instructions in ten-finger typing. The
kind lady even took a little time to show me how to get started.

  For a couple of months I went through the endless 'asdf lkj',
'fgjh', 'dest', 'kilu'  etc. and later on small silly sentences
like: 'father is at home', 'three boys running wild'... but all
in all I was progressing quite nicely. Time and again Mrs. Jones
would check how far I had come and offer me small advice.

  When school holidays started Mr. Petersen, that is the boss,
asked me if I'd like to work full time during the holidays. As
people were going on holidays he could use me here and there for
various jobs, like sweeping floors, bring out waste, etc.  I was
only too happy to say yes, as we needed the money at home, and we
had no plans (read: no money) to go on a holiday. But every
afternoon I was back in Mrs. Jones' office doing what I was used
to. At that time I had done a bit of complaining about the silly
sentences from the book, and Mrs. Jones said: "Well, why don't
you make some better ones yourself? Write a small story and then
copy it two or three times for exercise, and then write another.
Should give you just as much practice. Only remember: You are
still not allowed to look at the keyboard." So that's what Idid.

  One day in the beginning of July I had written the start of a
small story about the office, when the boss suddenly yelled:
"Paul, for Heaven's sake. In here, hurry." He had forgotten to
get some papers to the tax-authorities, and they had to be there
before closing time - which gave me 10 minutes - barely possible.
Pedalling like Eddie Mercxx I managed to get them delivered,
which brought me praise from the boss and Mrs. Jones when I
returned. And a strange smile from Mrs. Jones on top of it, but I
got the explanation of that, less than a minute later.

  When I returned to my little cubicle to resume typing, I
blushed all over and was embarrassed no end. I had been in such a
rush to answer Mr. Petersen's call, that I had forgotten to close
down the text I had been writing: Some stupid sentences about the
boss, plus the last one: ....and his secretary is so beautiful,
and she smells so good I can hardly think when she.....

  Phew !   Sure, I had a lusty crush on Mrs. Jones, but it was
certainly not my intent that she should know. A beautiful, grown
woman like her might be offended, being the target of a
teenager's wet fantasies. From their offices I heard Mrs. Jones
say: "I'll go help Paul a little with his typewriting. Be back in
a minute."

  "Oh, my God," I thought. "Here it comes."  I steeled myself in
preparation of a mighty scolding, and then just the opposite
happened.

  "Well, well, I have to say. Is it true that you find my smell
exciting?"

  "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Jones. I never intended for you to see
that. Please don't be angry with me."

  "But I'm not, dear boy, it is kind of a compliment to an old
lady, isn't it?"

  "You're not old, Mrs. Jones, but yes, it was meant as a
compliment. I really like the way you look and smell."

  "All right, you flatterer. And what is it about my smell that
you like so much, that you confide in a computer?"

  "I don't really know. Is it your perfume or is it your skin, or
is it a mix of the two?  All I know is, that when I'm at home I
just have to close my eyes, and I can almost see you and smell
you from apart."

  "What a nice thing to say, Paul. Maybe I should give you a
chance to smell a little closer?"  She leaned into me from
behind, and her breasts touched my shoulders ever so slightly for
a second, while her lovely smell enveloped me like cloud seven.
And then she was gone! I was in a turmoil of emotions. Relieved
that I didn't get a scolding, and excited beyond belief, that she
had allowed her pretty breasts to touch me - deliberately. Enough
to fuel my masturbatory fantasies for quite some time.

  Over the next week I really had trouble. I could not figure out
if it was a delusion, or if Mrs. Jones really did take extra
care, and applied just a little touch more of her perfume, and
wear shirts that showed a little more of her breasts. But I was
soon to find out.

  The 'industrial holiday' came up, meaning that practically all
industries closed down for three weeks. Only a very small
emergency staff stayed on in offices around the country to handle
emergency orders, and in our case it was Mrs. Jones and I who
were to stay in administration, plus two or three people in
stores and shipping, while the rest of personnel, including Mr.
Petersen, went off. Three glorious weeks alone with the target of
my wet dreams, and not much work to do on top of it.

  That first Monday showed me I had not been imagining things.
Mrs. Jones came to work in a most alluring white shirt. It was
quite thin in the material, and it was easy to see her bra
through it, and as the bra was a flimsy thing, too, I could even
discern the slightly darker areas of her nipples. I had never
seen her wear anything that revealing, and on top of it she
opened one, and later two, of the buttons, to give me a most
exciting peek to her treasures. I felt like the proverbial little
pig, mesmerised by a snake's stare. While she was explaining the
routine of the next three weeks to me, I was lost. All my
attention was directed towards her cleavage, and when she asked
me a question I didn't even hear it, which made her smile. When
we were doing the few things we had to do on that first day, she
invariably would stand a lot closer to me, so her smells could
reach me and dull my brain. I was so obvious that she must have
had quite some fun playing me like that. As we were leaving in
the afternoon she came up to me to say goodbye - closer than
usual again, and then she killed me: "Well, Paul, did you have
fun looking at me like that all day?"

  I turned blushingly red in my face. "Ohh, ahh, Mrs, Jones, I
didn't mean to offend you, I'm so sorry."

  "Don't be, Paul, it's ok with me. You can look, if you want.
And while we are only the two of us here, you can call me Helen,
all right?"  I don't even remember if I answered that, but I was
floating on air as I walked down to my bike, and I hardly slept
that night.

  Tuesday started hot and sunny, and even my light shorts and a
T-shirt felt warm on the ride to work. But nothing compared to
the heat Mrs. Jones, ahh, Helen, generated in me, when she turned
up, all dressed in white. A thin, white blouse with a rounded cut
out, held together by a string, tied on her shoulders, a flimsy
bra underneath, and a killer skirt. An innocent looking long
skirt, almost to her feet, but whenever she was back lighted by
the sun, pouring in through the windows, the thin gauze-like
material became totally transparent and revealed her long, slim
legs from foot to her rounded hips. I was so infatuated that I
was sure she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and I
behaved like a dazed nitwit. My mouth was dry, my hands were
shaking, and my cock stirred in my shorts and gave me in.

  "I see you like my new skirt," she said while she smiled her
sweet smile to me. "You know, I put it on for you, today, so you
can look all you want."

  "You look so beautiful, Helen, I don't know what to say."

  "So you don't think it's too thin?"

  "Oh, my God no. Your legs look so pretty through it that I can
hardly think of anything else."

  "You sweet boy. I don't know why, but I love it when you look
at me that way. Does it make you want to touch them?"

  "You bet. Nothing I'd love better, Helen."

  "Have you ever touched a woman's legs before, Paul?"

  "No, never."

  "Well." She stepped up closer to me, as I was sitting on my
chair. "Then I should feel honoured to let you touch mine, them
being your first?"

  "You're teasing me, Mrs. Jones."

  "It's still Helen, and no, I'm not teasing you." She stepped up
to me real close, and at the same time she lifted the hem of her
long skirt up beyond her knees. "Touch them, then," she
whispered.

  Slowly, as if by a will of their own, my hands reached out and
touched her knees. I was all dizzy with lust, and her skin felt
like soft velvet to my palms. I slid my hands up and down on the
outside of her thighs for a little while. Then she moved her left
foot a little to the side. Funny how little details stick in your
memory. I'm dead sure it was her left foot. "You can touch the
insides too, if you want."

  I slipped my hands round to the insides of her thighs, and
brushed the back of my hands up and down a little. Then I found
out, that if I crossed my arms I could touch both of them with my
palms. With every move I got a little bolder, and after a minute
my hand for the first time touched her crotch. My God, I was
shaking all over, and her hot pussy burned through her damp
panties into my hand. At the time I had no idea what the dampness
signified, I only knew that this must be Heaven. Helen was
standing very quiet in front of me, looking down at me. When I
touched her pussy she leaned forward and took my head between her
hands and pressed it against her breasts. Then she stepped
backwards away from me and said, "There, Paul, now you have
touched them. But we have better stop for now, there are other
people in the buildings. Maybe later today I'll let you touch
them again. OK? Did you like it?"

  I had so much trouble getting the 'yes' over my lips, that
Helen giggled at me and said: "Yes, I think you did. And now I've
better give you some work to take your mind elsewhere. We have
two orders today. Will you go to the storeroom and pack them, and
later take them to the post office and get them sent?"

  "Yes, of course, Helen."  It was as if the magic spell was
broken, and I was back to normal life.

  At four o'clock the few people working were to leave, while
Helen and I had to keep phones open until 5. Fortunately nobody
rang, because at five past four Helen stepped up to me again.
"Have you been waiting to touch my legs again?"

  "I have hardly thought of anything else, Helen. It was so
exciting."

  "Well, we are alone now, so I've better give you another
chance, haven't I? Do you want to?"

  "Oh, that would be great."  And again she lifted the hem of her
long skirt and stepped up to stand in front of me with her legs a
little apart. I was shaking all over, as my hands roamed her
lovely legs and hips. Insides and outsides, crotch and bum. God,
it was wonderful to push my hand tight against the wet gusset of
her panties, a wetness I still had no idea about. By then she had
hitched up the hem of her skirt and tucked it into the waistband
and I was treated not only to the feel, but also the sight and
smell of her legs and hips. Suddenly she stepped back a little.

  "This feels great, Paul. Would it be OK if I touched your legs
as well?"

  "Yes, of course, Mrs. Jo...Helen. I'd love that." I made ready
to get up and stand in front of her, like she had done to me, but
she took my hand and led me through to Mr. Petersen's office,
where she sat down in the sofa with me standing in front of her.

  "You ARE sure, that it's OK for me to touch you?"

  "Of course, Mrs..Helen. I really want it."

  "And you don't think I'm too old to touch you this way?" While
she said this, her hand travelled from my knee up the inside of
my thigh.

  "I think you are lovely, Helen, and this is very, very
exciting. I never tried anything like it."

  Her touch was so electric, that my cock got even more hard than
it already was. It was poking against my shorts, making a tent
out of them. Her hands were now on my hips, and one of then went
in front of me and touched my cock.

  "Isn't this very uncomfortable? Don't you think we should let
him loose?"

  My mouth was dry like Sahara and I couldn't utter a word.
Instead I reached for my belt to open it, but Helen beat me to
it.  "Just leave it to me, Paul. I know what to do, and today
I'll do it." In an instant my shorts and my pants were at my
feet, and Helen had closed her hand around my cock. I had
masturbated hundreds of times, but not even my best come that
way, was halfway as exciting as Helen's touch. She moved her hand
slowly back and forth, and suddenly she lifted her head and
looked me straight in the eyes. "Do you like this?"

  I moaned something which was supposed to be a yes. Through my
veiled eyes she looked like a fairy, all glittery and diffused,
and the smells emanating from her was so strong and delicious.

  "Tell me when you are going to come, Paul. We don't want it to
spurt all over the office."

  How on earth could she know that I was so close? I had to warn
her, and I croaked: "I'm... I think... I'm.." God it was so good.
My head was spinning and my whole body was on fire. I couldn't
help but pushing my pelvis forwards, and suddenly I felt
something warm and wet round the head of my cock. I opened my
eyes and looked down. Helen had leaned forward and taken the tip
of my cock in her mouth.

  A hoarse groan escaped me, and my sperm jetted into her mouth.
I was shaking all over with delight, and again and again my come
was pushed out through my cock, totally out of my control.
Finally it stopped, and I felt as if I was going to faint. I
supported my hands on Helen's head, enjoying the feel of her dark
hair. A few seconds later I felt her lips leaving my cock.

  "MMMmm, Paul. That was a mighty load you gave me. Was itgood?"

  "Oh, Helen, it was the best ever. I have never tried anything
so good. You're so beautiful, and you just gave me the...."  I
could not find words to describe my feelings, but Helen didn't
seem to mind. She smiled up to me and said:

  "Well, then, maybe you'd want to touch my legs again,
tomorrow?"

  "Oh, yes, oh yes. Can I really?"

  "If you are a good boy, and there's nobody around, we can meet
here again, tomorrow.  But now you have better pull up your
shorts so we can get out, before anybody gets suspicious.Right?"

  "Oh, yes, Helen. And thank you." I bent over to reach for my
shorts, and at the same time I planted a warm and grateful kiss
on her forehead and on her cheek.



CHAPTER TWO.

  Looking back over the years I cannot say that I fully
understand what happened. What ever made Helen give me that
treat, and those that were to follow? To say I'm grateful will be
a hilarious understatement. As it would be, if I told that I was
confused and delirious on my way home, that day. I needed some
time to really savour what had happened, and I couldn't stand the
thought of my mom's and sister's chattering. From a phone booth I
called home and said I was very hot from working, and that I'd
make a small detour to the nearby beach to have a swim and cool
of.

  I found a deserted corner of the beach and lay down in the tall
grass. I had no intention of jumping into the water right now. I
wanted to keep the feeling of her hands on me for as long as
possible. I closed my eyes and let the late afternoon sun bake
me, while I  re-lived those precious minutes again and again.
With the enthusiasm, that only a teen-ager owns, I was convinced
that I had found the love of my life, and I cooked up wonderful
dreams of Helen and I together in all future. When dinner time
got close, I shed my t-shirt and took a short swim in my shorts,
that my mom shouldn't get suspicious.
  The next morning when I stamped in at the factory I must have
looked like a lovesick cat. I seemed to see nothing but Helen,
but she was smart as always, and when my staring and glooming
became too obvious she sent me off on some errand. We didn't even
spend the lunch break together. Every time I looked at the clock
on the wall it seemed to have moved only a minute or two, but
finally we got closer to four, and Helen called me up to her
chair.

  "I know what you have been thinking of all day, Paul, but
really you haven't been a very good boy today. You've been
staring and glooming, so I'm surprised no one has noticed but me.
Do you really think such behaviour earns you a chance to touch my
legs again?"

  "No, Helen, I know. But I can't help myself. I think I'm
terribly in love with you."

  "That's a very sweet thing to say, Paul. But I must explain the
situation to you, so you can understand how serious this is.
First of all: I'm a married woman and I'm 37 years old, and you
can forget about being in love with me - it just cannot be. Do
you understand? Secondly:  I can definitely not afford even a
rumour of a suspicion to reach my husband. And third, and most
important: You are only 14. You're not even legal, and I should
face an embarrassing indictment, and probably have to go to
prison for abusing you. Are you sure you understand how serious
this is?"

  "Yes, Helen. I know I've been stupid, and I would never do
anything that might harm you."

  "Right you are, Paul. But then you have to be a lot more
discreet about this. I really don't feel like doing anything
today - I've been much too worried about your behaviour.
Tomorrow, if you can act 100% normal, we can talk about it when
we get closer to four o'clock. Right?"

  I managed to stutter a "yes", and then she sent me off, almost
half an hour early.

  To the beach again, this time to dive in, the minute I arrived.
A long, long swim left me exhausted, and when half an hour in the
grass had restored me I took a long second swim. I think I grew
up a lot that evening and night, and reluctantly I accepted the
reality of what had happened. No love, no romance, no silly
dreams. I was damn lucky, that a beautiful, grown woman had
initiated me to the first pleasures of sex, that were not
entirely 'on my own hands'. And if I wanted this to go further,
I'd damn well have to grow up. I cannot say that I was totally
happy the next morning, when I left for work. But I had come to
terms with my situation, and I was determined to show Helen, that
I had.

  "Now, that's more like the Paul I like," Helen said when
lunchtime got nearer. "Why don't you pop down and buy us a couple
of ice creams for lunch? My treat."

  "Sure, Helen." And we put the ice creams in the small fridge in
Mr. Petersen's office. We had a nice lunch, laughing and joking,
among other things about my little exercise, which had got things
rolling. When we were close to four o'clock Helen handed me a
key. "Paul, I want you to go a round to make sure that everybody
has left, and then lock the main door and come back up here.
Think you can handle that?"

  Though it was only ten to four all rooms were deserted. Seems
they took advantage of the boss' holiday. So shortly before four
I was back in our office. "They had all left when I got down
there. So now the front door is locked, and we are the only ones
in the building." Helen smiled at me and got up from her chair
behind her desk, only to give me quite a shock. With a big smile
on her face she unbuttoned her white blouse, and then proceeded
to slip down her skirt, right in front of me. God, she looked
gorgeous. The open blouse revealed her lacy bra, and her ultra
thin panties showed her dark triangle to its full advantage. My
cock started to stir in my shorts.

  "You've been a very good boy today, Paul."  She placed her ass
on the edge of her desk and leaned back, supporting herself on
her hands, which made her blouse open up a bit further. "Do you
want to touch my legs again?"

  "I want to touch them and kiss them, and to touch you all
over," I said.

  "Well, then don't just stand there. Come over here. If you
kneel in front of me I think you'll be in a comfortable position
to do it." Oh, what a treat. This time I could feel and look at
the same time. My eyes were riveted on her pussy, while I felt up
her legs, inside and out, and at last I let my hand slide up from
her knees to the wet gusset of her thin panties. There was no
mistaking the intoxicating smell, emanating from her pussy. She
moved her hips just a little, as if to show me that she wanted me
to rub her there, and when I did she let out a low groan, as if
to show me I was on the right track.

  "Pull down my panties, Paul. I want you to feel it really." My
hands were shaking when I grabbed the waistband, but she
obligingly lifted her ass off the edge of her desk to make it
easier for me.

  When I touched her again I could really feel how wet she was. I
wasn't sure why. Had she peed a little, or what? "You sure are
wet, Helen, why is that?"

  "My God, dear boy. Don't you know?"

  I shook my head.

  "That's because I like what you are doing. When a woman likes
what you are doing to her and she gets horny, then she gets wet
too. Try and kiss it and see what it tastes like. It's very
good." The moment my lips touched her pussy I was hooked. Knowing
she was wet because she liked it, made the taste sheer ecstasy,
and I have been a dedicated pussy licker ever since. By now my
hands were on her hips and my face buried in her crotch.

  "Stick out your tongue and lick on the little knob here." She
pointed to her clit, and obligingly I let my tongue circle it.
Helen's moans got louder, and she was rocking her pelvis against
my mouth. Suddenly she grabbed my hair and pushed me away.

  "God, you're good at it, Paul. But stand up now and let's go
into Mr. Petersen's office." She pushed me down on the sofa and
kneeled between my legs. "I've better get these shorts off," she
whispered, and in one pull she removed my shorts and my
underwear. With her soft, delicate hand she grabbed my hard cock
and started her movements up and down. Little dots and multiple
colours flickered on the screen of my closed eyelids.

  "I'm going to let you come, like I did the other day, but today
we won't stop there, Paul. When you feel like coming, just let
go. I'll catch it." She must have been quite experienced, I
thought, because the moment I felt my orgasm approaching, she
leaned forward and pushed her lips over the tip of my cock. I
opened my eyes, and that sight is forever lingering in my brain.
Her beautiful red lips closed round my cock, and her delicate
hand with the two golden rings moving up and down. I exploded
like a tornado into her mouth. She gulped a few times, but kept
my cock in her mouth, only she stopped moving her hand and
stopped sucking for a few moments. God, I never felt anything so
delightful.

  I don't know what happened. Instead of wilting, like my cock
always did when I masturbated, it stayed up all the time. Must
have been the warmth in her mouth, or the subtle little movements
she made with her tongue and lips.

  "Aahh, now, there's a good boy, keeping it up," she said. She
let go of my cock and got up from the floor. Gently she grabbed
my legs and pulled me a little down in the sofa, so my ass was
resting on the edge, whereupon she straddled my legs and moved in
closer.

  "I'm going to put that nice, hard cock into my pussy, Paul.
You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  "Oh, yes, Helen. Are you really going to do it?"

  "Yes, dear, you are going to have the first fuck of your life,
so just relax and let me do it. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."  She
then placed her knees on the sofa, reached down and grabbed my
hard cock. She moved it back and forth a few times in the opening
of her wet pussy, and suddenly with a deep sigh she sank down to
sit on me, while my cock slipped in, deep into her.  Once again
it was a million times better than anything I had imagined. Hot,
wet, electric, mysterious, and so wonderful I could have cried.

  Helen began moving, sliding up and down on my cock. Her
beautiful breasts were moving in the most enticing way, and the
wonderful smell of her body......

  "Touch my breasts, Paul," she suddenly said in a husky voice.
"Play with them while I do this. Play with my nipples, they like
it."  They were even better to touch than to look at. While Helen
gradually made her movements longer and faster, I enjoyed her
breasts to the fullest. For short moments it was all sounds and
smells. Slapping noises when her ass hit my thighs, little
squishing sounds from her pussy when she moved it, and the
strong, intoxicating smell of perfume, skin and pussy !  And then
again the sight of that beautiful woman on top of me. I looked up
to see her face, and I got a little afraid. Her lovely face was
distorted in a way I had never seen, as if she was in pain, but
she soon relieved my fear:

  "Ohhhh, this is so good, Paul. Pinch my nipples, pinch them. Do
it, now !" At the same time she was speeding up her movements. I
started pinching both nipples, getting more and more dizzy
myself.

  She started groaning. "Aaahhh, I'm going to come, ooohh, no,
I'm going to come. Harder, Paul, pinch harder. ... more....
harder...". Suddenly she was raked with spasms, so exquisite that
my own orgasm hit me right out of the blue, when I felt them
round my cock. With a little, muted scream, she collapsed on top
of me, while the most wonderful, sobbing sounds coming from her
mouth, and her pussy was still contracting around my spurting
cock. It was so wonderful and warm that I could have died happily
at that moment. I threw my arms round her and hid my head in the
grove between her neck and her shoulder, which I kissed and
nuzzled.

  It was probably only a minute or two that we sat like that,
slowly letting our passion simmer down to a luxurious, warm
caring and loving, but to me it felt like an eternity.

  Helen sat up again, looking down on me with shiny, smiling
eyes. "Well, Paul, you're a man now. And I made you one. Was it
good?"

  "Oh, Helen, nothing could have been better. It was so lovely
and exciting, and you are so beautiful."

  "Hush, boy, nothing of that," she laughed. "You just had your
first woman, and that's that.  And now we've better clean
ourselves,  and get home, haven't we?"  She raised herself off
me, and my wilting cock slipped out with a little 'plop'. She
patted my cheek and kissed my forehead before she disappeared
into Mr. Petersen's private bathroom. I heard her humming little
tunes, while the water was running in the washbasin and she
obviously was washing herself. When I got up from the sofa I was
so dizzy I almost tripped over my own feet.

  "Your turn," she said, as she came out of the bathroom. She
looked at me, smiling, and then came up to me and hugged me close
to her wonderful body. She kissed me lightly and went to get her
clothes, while I dried myself off with the washrag. Five minutes
later we were going home, each our separate way, and me with
Helen's last warning ringing in my ears: "Remember, Paul, you
can't tell anybody, not anybody, about this, right?"

  I shall never forget those glorious 2  weeks in the summer of
'68. Each and every afternoon we made love in Mr. Petersen's
office, and Helen lovingly and expertly took it upon her to teach
me the art of making love. A most welcome by-product of this
wonderful summer was the assurance it gave me, apparently showing
itself to my surroundings, because over the next 5 years I must
have been the most successful teen-age seducer in Copenhagen.

  When Mr. Petersen and the other workers returned, Helen went to
France with her husband, for the holiday. A week later I stopped
working there. For the next couple of years I would often make a
detour if I was in the neighbourhood at the right time, just to
blow Helen a kiss from the distance when she was leaving the
factory.





_________________________________________________________________
Join the world's largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail.
http://www.hotmail.com 

------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
This post has been reformatted by the ASSM
Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+