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Message-ID: <37959asstr$1029877804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Dryad <gbbjg@NOSPAM.yahoo.com>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 20 Aug 2002 14:30:44 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} Return (MF oral) [Dryad] 
Date: Tue, 20 Aug 2002 17:10:04 -0400
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Return (MF)

   I'm not a pig.  Really!

   You say that because you don't know, or don't think.  Yes, yes, he was
my best friend's father.  But you're missing the point!

   I was wandering the park.  It was Monday afternoon; not many people out.
It looked like rain, but its not like I was gonna melt or anything.

   Then I saw him.  He was walking along the avenue of oaks.  He looked
gaunt, tired.  No, that's not right.  He looked lonely, not the kind of
closed off lonely, but the look a child has when they've lost something
that kept them safe.  Compared to the Mr.  Allard I knew, it was
devastating.  I mean, this is the man who actually let us teach him how to
do the Swim and the Monkey.  He was so vibrant.

   I knew Mrs.  Allard had passed.  Breast cancer.  She only lived 4 months
after they found out.  Such a shame.  I read about the funeral, but hey,
funerals are for the living.  She knew I'd miss her and wished her well and
I wasn't going to cry because I had known such a beautiful person.

   But here he was coming toward me.  Actually, bumped right into me.

   "Mr.  Allard, I'm so sorry.  I heard.  It was so sudden.  She was too
young." I said and I put my hand on his arm.  All of which are true.  Words
just never do service to the feelings we have.

   You could see it took him a moment to recognize me.  Well, I guess that
is fair, I stopped straightening my hair when I graduated high school in
'67, though he'd seen me since then.

   "Thank you, Sandy" he said forcing a slight smile, shaken out of his
reverie.  "It was quick; she didn't suffer much."

   Odd how men have to try and act so strong, when its obvious he thought
the world fell apart.  I fell into step with him.  Why, You ask?  Quite
frankly, the man shouldn't have been alone.  For all the times he listened
to me, I could damn well listen.  Maybe remind him he didn't die with her.

   "This place," he shook his head as he continued walking, "It was so
special.  Did you know Laura and I met here?  I proposed to her, here at
the fountain." He chuckled slightly.  "I was never so scared.  I shook so
bad, I actually dropped the ring in the fountain." I smiled.  I could see
him doing it.  "We both jumped in, running our hands around looking for it.
She was so wet...." His voice trailed off suddenly.  Like I was going to
care?  Hell, I lost my virginity to Matt Jamison in his basement sophomore
year.  No, that wasn't going to bother me.  Not only that, but I believe
its important to remember those things.  I reached out for his hand.  He
looked so lost.

   "It's okay.  It's important to remember her that way.  I'm not exactly
the little kid you remember." I'd been practically living at their house
since I was 7, so I guess his not wanting to share was understandable. 
But, he needs this, and it's certainly better he talk it out with me than
Denise.  Kids don't want to know about what their parents do after hours.

   Then it began to rain.  I mean RAIN.  It had been warm, so I had been
wearing one of my old hippie days peasant shirts.  Not exactly good for
rainstorms.  Then I noticed it.  He was staring at my chest, but oddly, I
knew it wasn't me he was staring at.  I mean, come on, Laura died of breast
cancer; and I realized.  I wasn't hitting on him.  I wasn't asking for
anything.  But, somehow I knew, I knew he needed to see, to feel, to
realize that they all didn't go hard, malignant and murderous.

   I took the hand I was holding and softly pulling it to my breast.  "Its
okay," I murmured.  His hand shook, then rested on my breast.

   "So soft," He whispered.  That's when I knew I was right.  But I was
getting soaked, and the bandstand was way the hell over on the other side
of the park.  His fingers rested on my breast momentarily, then as though
realizing the sky was opening up, he pulled me by the hand, running toward
a stand of hemlock Denise and I used to play house in, when we were little
kids.

   We pushed our way through the outer boughs, and into the inner sanctum.
It would stay dry here, unless it really started to downpour.  Suddenly, he
leaned low and kissed me softly, putting all his boiling emotion into it. I
knew it wasn't me.  He was far too in love with Laura.  But I realized
this, and knew that this was his way of saying goodbye, or gaining closure,
or just healing.  Call it what you will.  I've done a lot of things in this
life I wasn't exactly proud of, but letting him make love to me was not one
of them.  His hand caressed my face, memorizing each detail, the slope of
my jaw, the curve of my neck.  He kissed surprisingly well, and I soon
found myself kissing him back; between the affection and sensuality, I
began to lose myself.

   I showed him with my body, reminded him he was alive.  My leg went up
and wrapped around his legs.  Our lips parted, gasping for breath.  We
suddenly lost our balance and I landed on top of him.  We laughed out loud,
and I rubbed his backside, pretending to make his boo-boo feel better.  We
rolled in the dry, brown, slick needles.

   He pressed into me, kissing me, but suddenly shy, sluggish; so tender of
me.  My hands told him though, placed on his shoulders, bringing his lips
to my breast.  His lips covered a chilled nipple through my shirt, warming
it with his tongue.  Oh, god I couldn't tell you how it felt.  The
sensation was incredible, yes, but I found I was needed.  He needed me,
showed me how much he did, as he moved to my other side.  This new sudden
power surged through me, and I could no long keep my body still.

   "Please." I whispered.  Please forgive me for not being Laura, please
let me help you.

   "Laura," he moaned softly.  He continued to trail down my tummy.  My
skirt was pulled up around my waist.  He knelt between my legs, kissing my
thighs.  My hands reached for his hair, pulling him closer.  He nuzzled at
me, at my warmth.  I reached down to help him, peeling my underwear off. 
He sighed.  Such a sigh!

   Suddenly, he was licking against me.  I went a bit hazy then.  I
shivered, quaked.  Then out of nowhere, I came.  I mean really came hard. I
usually made a ton of noise as I got close, but this was such a surprise, I
was speechless.  His tongue fluttered over my clitoris, and my orgasm
continued, until I began to whimper low.  God, I wanted him.  It no longer
mattered that he was my friend's father.  He was someone I loved and
respected, and was making me feel surprisingly incredible.  I pulled him up
to me, wanting more of him.

   He knelt between my legs, pressing his head against me, rubbing it
softly into my wetness, before pressing slowly into me.  He filled me.  His
warmth, his caring.  This was different from all the times I'd slept with
people; it wasn't for fun, it wasn't to prove a point--wasn't because I had
hopes of marrying.  It was just caring.

   He pressed in fully, before sliding back out just as slowly.  I couldn't
help but moan, feeling the pressure build within me again.  Felt how he was
feeling in an odd sense.  Shaking beneath him, feeling him lose himself in
my body.

   I watched his face as he relaxed from his orgasm.  I smiled softly.  He
looked stunned, even a bit embarrassed; it was rather sweet.  But then I
saw the pain creep in.  He fell onto my chest, weeping the large tears that
only come with something so painful.  I didn't say anything.  I wrapped my
arms around him, and let him lose himself in me.

   He tried to apologize, said I could press charges for raping me, as his
tears continued to fall..

   "Of course not." I replied, brushing back his hair.  "It's okay to cry."

   "I thought you were Laura, I'm so sorry." He sniffled quietly, as though
he couldn't quite believe it himself.

   "I knew.  It's fine.  You were saying goodbye." I continued to stroke
his shoulders.  I wish I had someone who loved me as much as he loved
Laura.

   "She's gone.  She's really gone.  I miss her so much." His tears fell
silently onto my chest.

   "I know." I held him softly, absorbing his pain.

   He sniffed again.  "What happens now?"

   "Well, what do you want to happen?" I parried.  I was open to
possibilities after all.

   So now, you think I'm a pig.  Well, you know what?  I don't care,
because I just saw a smiling man hold his new grandchild.  A man who hasn't
REALLY smiled in a long time.  Denise had a baby girl.  My god-daughter's
name is Laura.

   Fin

   Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Dryad/www

   This story has quite a bit to do with Breast cancer.  It can not only
kill those it directly affects, but hurts those around them.  Please
consider clicking on the link below.  This is one of those
"click-and-donate" links that donates money for free mammograms.  Thanks!

   http://www.thebreastcancersite.com



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