Message-ID: <40038asstr$1040652606@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Too Much Time" <toomuchtime2002@hotmail.com>
X-Original-Message-ID: <F101pm0RnzXotJAadVe00012837@hotmail.com>
X-OriginalArrivalTime: 23 Dec 2002 05:07:29.0414 (UTC) FILETIME=[3128AA60:01C2AA41]
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 23 Dec 2002 05:07:24 +0000
Subject: {ASSM} The Best Christmas Gift Ever (m F)
Date: Mon, 23 Dec 2002 09:10:06 -0500
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/Year2002/40038>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, RuiJorge
I made a point of finishing this one up before Christmas. Hope
you all enjoy it. As always, input is appreciated.
Happy Holidays, one and all!!!
TooMuchTime
_________________________________________________________________
The new MSN 8: smart spam protection and 3 months FREE*.
http://join.msn.com/?page=features/junkmail&xAPID=42&PS=47575&PI=
7324&DI=7474&SU=
http://www.hotmail.msn.com/cgi-bin/getmsg&HL=1216hotmailtaglines_
smartspamprotection_3mf
<1st attachment, "xmasgift.txt" begin>
The following is probably a work of FICTION. It was sent back in
time in a quantum bottle. So who really knows for sure? ...
Feel free to reprint or take credit for it (as if I could stop
you), but please don't make any changes, or I won't write
anything new!
More of TooMuchTime's erotic writings can be found here ...
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/TooMuchTime/www/
THE BEST CHRISTMAS GIFT EVER
by TooMuchTime (TooMuchTime2002@hotmail.com)
Copyright(c) 2002, TooMuchTime. All rights reserved.
The winter was particularly harsh the year I turned 15. I
mainly remember this because it most often fell on me to shovel
the snow off the hundred feet or so of sidewalks that surrounded
our corner house with the big yard. My parents were pretty old
(I'd been a bit of a conception surprise), each with their own
collection of back and joint problems, and my older brother and
sister had both already left home and lived several states away.
So when it came to manual labor around our house, I was the
always the prime candidate.
That year was also memorable for another reason. Because it
was the year that my brother Mickey, nearing 30, had finally
managed to find himself somebody to marry. My sister, a few
years younger than him, had been happily married since the year
after she graduated college, but Mickey always seemed to like his
freedom a bit too much. So we were all pretty surprised that
November to get the news that he was engaged to get hitched in
April, and that he'd be bringing his fiancée, Rochelle, home with
him for a week during Christmas, so we could all get to knowher.
As it turned out, that simple Christmas plan would meet with
some complications ...
* * *
When the phone rang, I was in the living room, watching
television. Specifically, I was trying to see how much skin and
boobs I could take in on Baywatch before my mother finished
ironing the laundry down in the basement. It wasn't nearly as
good as the Cinemax movies I sometimes caught late at night, when
my parents were sound asleep, but for a puberty-enraged boy
always looking for his next masturbatory fix, it wasn't bad
either. Pam Anderson in a wet bikini was always good for a
late-afternoon jerking session in the bathroom before dinner.
The phone rang again. It was 4 days until Christmas, and snow
fell steadily outside.
My mother yelled up from the basement. "Benji, can you get
that?"
"Yeah, Mom!" Using the remote, I changed channels to the
Cartoon Network, just in case my mother happened to come back
upstairs again while I was distracted. Then I grabbed the phone,
a bit annoyed. "Hello?"
"Hey, Squirt, it's me." Only one person called me Squirt -- my
brother.
"Oh, hey Mickey. You still coming in tonight?"
"No, I can't. Snow's even worse here than it is down your way.
They declared a state of emergency."
"Shit, really? That sucks."
"Yeah. There's no way I can get a plane out of here.
Hopefully, it'll clear up in a day or so."
"I don't know, man. They're saying it's supposed to be this
bad all week."
"I know, that's what I'm a afraid of. Anyway, look, I need to
let you guys know that Rochelle is still heading your way."
"She is?" I asked. "Why?"
"Just shitty planning. She flew down to her parents' place a
few days ago, and she rented a car so that she could meet me at
our place. The plan was we'd drop the car off at the airport
when we flew out next week. It all made sense on paper at the
time."
"Before the blizzard," I said.
"Exactly. Now she's already on the way there. If I'd known I
wouldn't be able to get a plane out, I'd have told her to sit
tight at her parents'. It's too late now, though."
"No big deal. I'm sure Mom and Dad won't care. They're all
psyched to meet her."
"Yeah, she's a sweetheart. You guys will love her."
"Anything is better than Bruce, right?" We shared a hearty
laugh at this. Bruce was my sister's husband, and it was
generally (and secretly) agreed within the family that he was a
grade-A prime asshole. The kind of guy who did everything he
could to make the people around him feel like shit and make
himself look superior. The first time he met my parents, over
dinner, he lectured them about how irresponsible it had been to
give birth to me at such a late age, because they'd probably be
dead by the time I ever got around to getting married.
"No, she's nothing like that" Mickey said. "I'm telling you,
she's a sweetheart. Smart, beautiful, funny. Everybody loves
her the second they meet her."
"What's she doing with you then?" I asked.
"Yeah, very funny, Squirt. You just try to remember she's your
future sister-in-law, okay?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means treat her nice. And don't go telling her stupid
stories about me."
"I'm not making any promises," I said.
"Yeah, whatever. Look, let me talk to Mom or Dad."
"Okay. Later." With this, I carried the cordless phone down
into the basement, handed it off to my mother, and went back to
watching the red-suited beauties on Baywatch.
Two hours later, Rochelle arrived.
* * *
As soon as Rochelle walked through the door, I understood
exactly what my brother had meant when he said she was beautiful.
She really was. From the second my mother opened the door,
Rochelle simply lit up the room. She wasn't very tall, maybe
5'5" or so -- about an inch shorter than me -- but she seemed to
carry herself much larger. And by this, I don't mean to say she
was heavy. I just mean that she had a bright smile, and that her
wide brown eyes, always alert, took in every new room she entered
as if it were the Emerald City.
"Come in, come in," my mother said, noticeably excited. "Get
out of the cold."
As for Rochelle's weight, it was tricky to tell at first
glance. She looked kind of husky in her big winter coat and hat
... but then so does everybody. Clearly, she wasn't obese, but
beyond that, it was hard to tell.
"Here, let me take your coat," my father said. "Benji, go get
the rest of her bags."
As she pulled off her hat, revealing a head of long, wavy brown
hair, Rochelle resisted at first. "It's okay," she said, smiling
at me. "I can go get it myself. There's only one more."
Dad bristled at this. "Nonsense. Benji's got his shoes on
already." True, I thought. But only because ten minutes
earlier, I'd finished shoveling the driveway clear in a hurry, so
that Rochelle would have a clean place to park. Still, I have to
say, I didn't mind the idea of doing something nice for her.
It's funny how that is -- we all tend to like doing things for
attractive people, even when they're complete strangers.
"I'll go," I said, smiling back stupidly at her.
Rochelle obviously knew a losing battle when she saw one. She
handed me the keys.
By the time I came back inside with the bags, Mom was putting
the finishing touches on dinner, and Dad was standing with
Rochelle in front of the fireplace in the living room. Even with
the coat off, with her back to me, I still couldn't tell much
more about her body than I'd been able to before. She wore a
colorful baggy sweater that extended to mid-thigh, and beneath
that, a pair of loose jeans and boots.
My father saw me coming. "Take those into Mickey's room," he
said, and I did.
A few minutes later, my mother announced that dinner wasready.
* * *
Over pot roast, my father wasted no time in not-so-subtly
finding out everything there was to know about our guest. It
turned out Rochelle grown up only about an hour away from us,
although it had taken she and Mickey going to the same health
club three states away for them to finally meet. She had a
degree in veterinary medicine, but now made a living as a
marketing coordinator for a small retail pet supply chain. She
was 27 years old, had no brothers or sisters, and seemed hesitant
to talk about her parents for some reason.
And that's about all I remember. The truth is, I'm sure she
said a lot more, but I was a bit too preoccupied with mooning at
her all through dinner to pay complete attention. Even though I
sat directly across from her, I still couldn't quite get a
reading on what she might look like under her clothes. She
didn't seem to be flat-chested, but the sweater was too baggy and
thick to discern much more. I'm not sure why it was so important
for me to know. I guess it was just the result of being a horny
15 year old. Anyway, these were the kinds of thoughts going
through my head when she suddenly asked me a question.
"So Benji, how do you like school?"
I shrugged. "It's okay, I guess."
"Mickey tells me you're a bit of a genius."
This, of course, provoked a blush. "No, I'm not."
"He scores at the top of the class every time they test him,"
my mother said, proudly.
Then my father chimed in. "He moved ahead so fast in grade
school, they made him skip fifth grade entirely. Just so he
wouldn't get bored." One thing I have to say for my parents --
they were ridiculously supportive of me, even my father. Some
guys I know, their fathers would be a bit frustrated with a son
who had absolutely no interest in sports, but mine, maybe because
he was older, knew that having brains was the best way to get
ahead in life.
"You must be very proud of him," Rochelle said, which brought
even more blood to my face.
"Oh, we are," my mother replied.
My father saw an opening to rib me, and took it. "I just hope
he remembers to take his nose out of the books long enough to
start dating some pretty girls soon." He winked over at me, just
so I'd know he was only teasing.
Rochelle giggled. "Oh, I'm sure he'll have no trouble there.
When the time is right."
My face caught on fire at this point, and I was sure that
somebody would have to pour a bucket of water on my head to put
me out. I smiled as best I could, despite the fact that I was
dying of embarrassment, then finished my dinner and excused
myself to my bedroom, leaving the rest of them behind to talk
about the weather.
* * *
I didn't have a television in my room back then, but I did have
a computer with an internet connection. So for the next couple
of hours, I entertained myself in the usual way -- surfing the
Web for nude photos of women that I could masturbate to. I did
this, of course, with one ear constantly alert to sounds coming
from the hallway. There was no working lock on the door, so if
one of my parents decided to walk in and ask me a question or
something, as they sometimes did, I needed enough early warning
to minimize my browser.
At one point, around 9 o'clock, I thought this might happen.
But it turned out to only be my father showing Rochelle to my
brother's room. I'd been half expecting this. After all, it was
my parents' habit to go to sleep by about 9:30, like clockwork,
then get up at the crack of dawn. And this didn't tend to vary
even if we had company. Sure enough, a few minutes later, my
mother poked her head in.
"Well, we're off to bed," she said.
"Night, Mom."
"Try not to stay up too late," she warned. "There'll be more
snow on the walks in the morning."
"I know, Mom."
"And be sure not to make too much noise. Rochelle's right next
door." My room and Mickey's old room were adjoined by a shared
bathroom with a thin door on either end, which we all knew tended
to carry sound from one room to the other like a length of pipe,
even when both doors were closed.
"I know, Mom. I'll just be on the computer, not playing music
or anything."
"She seems nice, doesn't she?" my mother asked, smiling.
I nodded. "Yeah, she does. Did she go to sleep?"
"I think so. Sounds like she had a long day. Well, good
night, Honey."
"Night, Mom." Relieved, I opened my browser window again, and
eyed up the hot busty redhead I'd stumbled across after doing a
search for "big tits" in Yahoo. Busty Bethany was her name, and
she was amazing -- tall, with long legs, a 34DDD chest (according
to her bio), and a clear love of lingerie. I couldn't seem to
find any nude or even topless photos of her in the free section
of her site, though, and this frustrated me a bit. So I spent
the next half-hour searching around from one dead end to another,
looking for them. Eventually, I did find some on a thumbnail
site, and was glad I did. My dick had already been fairly well
primed just from the other pics. Now, it created an instant tent
in my pajama bottoms at the sight of "Busty Bethany" puckering
her red lips at the camera, her hands with long red fingernails
cupping those huge tits from beneath, pushing them together, her
large nipples pointing out toward the camera.
"I'm guessing that's not homework," a voice said behind me.
I nearly had a heart attack on the spot. I turned quickly, and
saw Rochelle standing a few feet away. The bathroom door through
which she'd obviously entered stood open a few feet behind her
and the light in there was off. If it had been on, I'd have
caught the reflection on my monitor. Shit, I thought. Shit,
shit, shit. But all I managed to say was, "I -- I --"
Rochelle apparently saw that she'd caused me some distress, and
looked immediately sympathetic. "I'm sorry," she said. "That
wasn't nice. I should have knocked or something." By now, I'd
had time to notice that she was a bit more casually dressed than
she'd been earlier. Much more actually. In fact, all she wore
was a long blue t-shirt that extended almost to her knees, and
perhaps whatever underwear was on beneath it. From her bare
calves, I could tell that she was definitely not overweight, and
from the way the t-shirt swelled on top, I knew now that she was
most definitely not flat-chested. "I just saw your light on, and
thought maybe you were in here reading or something."
"I -- I was," I said, trying to salvage the situation. I
moused up to the bookmarks list on my browser, and pulled up an
interesting site about quantum physics that I'd run across a few
days before. "I just clicked on a link in a junk mail I got, and
it took me to that other site."
"Oh, I see," she said, with a sly expression. "Yes, I get
those sometimes too."
"They suck," I said. "I just wanted to see if I could get off
the mailing list."
"And you were looking at that page for so long ..."
"Trying to find an e-mail address," I said, knowing how lame I
must sound.
Rochelle smiled. "Of course." She stepped closer, standing to
the side of me. "And did you find one?"
I shook my head. "No. Just some pictures."
"Not such terrible pictures, though," she said, her tone a bit
teasing.
"No," I said, blushing. "They were okay."
"I'm sorry," she said, looking genuinely repentant. "I'm
embarrassing you."
I shrugged. "Kind of. A little." I suddenly became aware
that from where she was standing, if Rochelle looked down, she
could probably see the tent that my raging erection was making.
I tried to think of some way to adjust myself, but there really
was none. I just leaned forward a bit, and hoped to make it a
little less obvious.
"You know, it's not a crime," she said.
"What's not?" I asked, trying to act like I was reading the
physics article.
"Looking at nakedness. It's a natural enough thing."
"I know," I said, glancing over at her. "I've looked at some
before."
"Well good. Never be ashamed of it."
"I'm not." I tried squirming in the chair, to see if I could
make my hard-on tuck back some against my body, but only
succeeded in making my condition even more obvious when it got
caught up in the folds of the pajama bottoms. What's worse, this
seemed to draw Rochelle's attention to it, so that as I sat up
straight again, then looked over at her, I could see that
she was looking right down into my lap. At this point, the best
I could think to do was say, "Um ... sorry."
"Don't be," she said. "That's natural too."
"I know, but ..."
"Benji, I'm going to tell you something that I'd prefer you
didn't share with your mother and father. Mickey knows, but I'd
rather not have everybody else know yet. Can you keep asecret?"
"Uh ... sure. What is it?" I tried not to be self-conscious
of my erection, now that she knew about it and didn't seem to
care. But I still managed to feel like a big dopey pervert all
the same.
"Well. My parents are nudists. And I was raised a nudist."
"Wow, really? That's cool. I mean ... what's that mean
exactly?"
She laughed lightly at this. "It means we lived pretty much in
the nude. And we lived in a small community where everybody else
did too. And during summers, we'd go to special camps and
beaches where most everybody there was nude as well. It was just
a general part of my life. For my parents, it still is."
"Wow." That must rock, I thought, but didn't say it. "So, why
did you stop?"
"Well, it wasn't a big deal where I grew up, but once I went
off to college, it became kind of inconvenient. I still go nude
at home sometimes, though. Or when I'm at my parents'." This,
of course, immediately made Benji wonder even more than he had
been already what Rochelle looked like naked. "It threw Mickey
off a bit when he visited them for the first time, of course.
Especially the first time my mother walked into the room."
I laughed in spite of my awkwardness. "I bet. So does he..."
"Get naked? Mickey?" She giggled. "No. Well ... the same
times everybody else does, I guess. Showers, that kind of thing.
But he won't even sleep naked. Always wears his boxer shorts."
"Yeah, me too. Or pajama bottoms." I looked down, and saw
that my dick was still betraying me.
"Anyway," Rochelle said. "I just wanted to let you know that.
I thought it might make you feel better about ... you know. Me
walking in here and everything. Just be aware that I don't shock
or offend easily."
"Um. Okay. Thanks."
"I should probably get to bed now," she said.
"Yeah. Me too."
"Well, good night then. See you in the morning." And with a
final smile, she padded quietly back to the bathroom door and
disappeared. But she didn't close it behind her.
I sat there for another fifteen minutes or so, unsure of what
to do, checking my e-mail and actually starting to read the
quantum physics article. By that point, my erection had
subsided, and I realized that I had to take a leak. So I got up
out of my chair and made my way into the bathroom, just as I had
a thousand times before. Only when I got there, I found myself
in an unusual situation. Because the door into my brother's room
was wide open. Not only this, but Rochelle was sitting up in
bed, some pillows propped behind her back, no covers on her from
the waist up, reading a book. This, of course, would not have
been so amazing in and of itself ... if not for the fact that she
had taken off the long t-shirt she wore earlier, and was sitting
there topless.
Now, of course, the mystery of her chest size was settled once
and for all. And the verdict was ... they were friggin huge!
From my online experiences with breast sizes, I concluded that
she was easily a D cup. They were perky, round, and quite
frankly, the most amazing things I'd ever seen in my life. Of
course, since they were the first live tits I was ever seeing,
this probably had something to do with that assessment.
As I stood there, staring, Rochelle took notice of me. "Oh, hi
Benji."
"Hi, I ..." I pointed down to the toilet. "Just have to go."
She giggled, then looked a bit confused. "Good luck with
that," she said, and went back to her book.
"I'm, uh ... just going to close your door, okay?"
"That's fine," she said, without looking up.
I walked over to the door, took in the sight of her amazing
boobs one last time, then pulled it shut. Only then did I
realize her crack about needing good luck had been more
appropriate than she probably thought. Because by now, I had
another raging hard-on, which made it nearly impossible to pee.
I had to bend far forward, and still some of it ended up spraying
the seat, which I had to wipe down thoroughly with tissues when I
was done. Ironically, by that time, my erection had more or less
disappeared. Then I went back to the door again, and hesitantly
opened it just far enough to poke my face through. Again, there
she was ... and there THEY were. I had to force myself to look
at her face. "Um. Did you want me to leave this open or
closed?"
"I prefer open," she said. "But whatever's more comfortable
for you."
I thought about this, but only for a second. After all, my own
humility and body shame aside, there wasn't really much chance of
me passing up the chance to see a topless woman in person. "I
guess open is okay."
She smiled at me. "Open it is then."
I pushed the door wide, as it had been before. At this point,
I realized that I couldn't quite justify any more staring at her
without it becoming obvious. "Okay. Night then," I said.
"Good night, Benji." But before I'd had a chance to completely
turn away, Rochelle took a moment to readjust herself on the bed,
as if to try and bring her back up straighter. Of course, as
they say in physics, for every action in the universe, there is
an equal and opposite reaction. And the immediate ripple effect
of this particular action was that her tits bobbled and bounced
and jiggled as she adjusted her body. It was ... quite a thing
to see.
When she'd found a new comfort zone, Rochelle saw me still
standing there. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No. I, um ... was just trying to think of something I wanted
to tell you. But I forgot."
"I see," she said, and darted her eyes downward for a moment,
then back up again. I glanced down myself, and realized what
she'd seen. My dick, which had gone more or less soft during my
piss, was suddenly at attention again. Only this time, instead
of tenting in my pajama bottoms, it had decided to poke its head
out through the hole.
"Shit." I quickly put it away again, as best I could. "Sorry,
I ..."
"Benji, it's okay. Like I said before, there's no shame in
it."
So then why was I blushing so much that I thought my face would
explode? I backed out of the doorway. "I should, um, get to
bed." Before I manage to embarrass myself any further, I
thought.
For the third time, Rochelle bid me a good night.
As I crossed the threshold into my own room, I considered
whether or not I should close the door, and on the spur of the
moment, decided not to. After all, I knew she had to go to sleep
before long, and once she did, there might be a chance that I
could sneak into the bathroom and peek at her some more. At the
time, of course, the irony of me peeping at a woman who'd made
such a pretense of not caring whether I saw her nude didn't occur
to me. I lived in a world where women hid their nakedness, and
where boys did their best to sneak around and try to see it.
Still, within minutes, the decision to leave the door open came
back to bite me in the ass. Because as I lay there in bed, my
erection throbbing, I realized that the one thing I wanted to do
more than anything else in the world was masturbate. And even
though my bed was in the far corner of the room, and therefore
didn't give anybody in the bathroom a direct line of sight, I
still hesitated to do anything. After all, she'd proven that she
could move very quietly earlier. I thought about getting up to
close the door, but decided it was too late. She'd already seen
me turn the light off a few minutes before, so now it would look
obvious if I closed it -- as if I had something to hide. Which,
of course, I did. But for some reason, I didn't want her
thinking that.
Before long, I saw the light in her own room go out, and
realized that my plan to sneak a peek at her while she slept had
been ill-conceived as well. After all, if it was dark in her
room, there wasn't much to see. I wrestled for a while with the
possibility of using a flashlight or something, but a few minutes
into that thought process, the day full of shoveling snow finally
caught up with me, and I fell asleep.
* * *
I awoke early the next morning to the sound of running water
and somebody humming quietly. As I rolled over in bed, I pieced
together the noises and figured out that Rochelle must be taking
a bath. It was a somewhat alien sound to me, because I always
took showers myself. I continued to lay there for a while, just
listening, until the water eventually stopped running, and I
heard the gentle slooshing sound of a body lowering itself into
the tub.
"Now what?" I thought, as I stared longingly over at the open
door. I suddenly regretted the decision several months ago to
move my bed to where it was now. Because if I hadn't done this,
I would have had a perfect line of sight as Rochelle stood
waiting for the tub to fill -- probably naked -- and I'd probably
be able see her now. Still, maybe there was some way ...
I rose out of bed, all too aware of my obligatory "morning
wood", took off my t-shirt, and walked deliberately over to my
dresser, which was right in front of the bathroom door. What I
was trying my best to do was act as if this was my normal chain
of events in the morning, and that nothing unusual -- like a
naked woman in the tub -- was happening in my world. It was just
another day. Ho hum. And before I even finished pulling my
underwear drawer open, Rochelle saw me.
"Morning, Benji," she said, thereby giving me the opening I
needed to look over at her. And oh, what a site. Once again,
thanks to the water in the tub, all I could see of her was from
the waist up. But this time, I was much closer than I'd been the
night before. And this time, her tits were wet and shiny, her
large pink nipples erect. What's more, she was smiling sleepily
at me, as she casually rubbed some soap onto her arm.
"Oh. Morning. I didn't realize you were in there."
"I'm not in your way, am I?" she asked.
"No, it's okay. I don't usually shower till after I shovel the
snow once."
"I guess that makes sense. No reason to take one, then get all
sweaty."
"Yeah." I knew that as long as I kept the conversation alive,
I had a built-in excuse to keep standing there, watching. "So,
did you sleep okay and everything?" I asked.
"Like a rock," she said, as she washed the back of her neck.
This, of course, made her tits bobble just above the water, which
was a maddening sight for me. "Well," she added. "Except for
the one point, when you were snoring so loud that you woke me
up."
I blushed. "Really? I'm sorry --"
"I'm just kidding," she said, and laughed. "Mickey, he snores
like a moose, but as far as I could tell, I don't think you did
at all. Then again, I sleep pretty soundly myself. More often
than not, you could play drums in my room and I'd never even
notice."
I smiled awkwardly. "Yeah. I'm like that too. Nothing wakes
me up." As I stood there, I noticed that my ever-hardening
erection was getting perilously close to the hole in my pajama
bottoms again. I realized that if I hitched my bottoms up and to
the side, I could probably prevent exposure, and maintain my
still-obvious but less vulgar "tent". Or, I could be bold, and
go the fully vulgar route. I decided to be bold.
As I turned my body, so that it would be facing Rochelle the
same way my head already was, this brought my penis into perfect
alignment with the hole in my pajama bottoms. It found the
opening and popped out with ease. I pretended not to notice the
change, but was totally aware of how it must look -- my almost 7
inches jutting out into open air.
Rochelle's eyes found it immediately, but she said nothing,
just smirked and looked away again.
"So what are your plans today?" I asked, trying to remain cool
in spite of my condition.
"Not sure," she said, still smirking. "Build a snowman maybe?"
She reclined her arms against the sides of the tub, giving me --
intentionally or not -- a clear view of her huge, shiny boobs.
"Well, there sure is enough snow for it," I joked. "You could
build a whole army."
"That's an idea. Do you think your parents would be offended
if I made them all anatomically correct?"
"Heh. I don't know. How would you do that? With carrots?"
"Maybe," she said. "Depends who the model was. In your case,
maybe a cucumber." With these words, she made a point of staring
directly at my exposed erection.
"What?" I looked down at myself, as if realizing for the first
time what was going on. "Oh. I'm --"
Smiling, she said, "Please don't tell me you're sorry again.
We've discussed this already, haven't we?" Then, as I made a
move as if to shift my pajama bottoms, she said, "And please
don't cover it up."
"But ..."
"Please?" she asked. "It's not as if I haven't seen it twice
already."
"Okay," I said, and tried to look casual standing there,
leaning against the door jamb.
"Thank you." Her face brightened. "Really, I don't know what
it's going to take to get you to not feel so embarrassed around
me all the time. I like to think that after your brother and I
get married, there'll be at least ONE person in the family I
won't feel obligated to always be dressed around. Your parents
are old-fashioned, which I respect, but I thought maybe you were
young enough to ... you know ... understand."
"I do," I said. "Sort of. It's just ... different for me, I
guess."
Rochelle sat up straighter in the tub, and once again, her tits
jiggled. "I know, Benji. It's not easy when you're used to
thinking of nudity as being something dirty. I went through the
same thing with Mickey at first. He used to walk around ..."
She gestured to my erection, smirking. "... well, like you are
now. At least half the time."
I chuckled. "Really?"
"Yup. I mean, it was no big deal. Again, it's natural enough.
But I wasn't really used to it."
"Why not?" I asked. "I mean ... aren't guys that way all the
time? At the nudist things I mean?"
"Actually, not that often. I guess nudity becomes less
exciting to men when they see often enough."
"Yeah, maybe," I said.
Rochelle laughed. "You sound skeptical."
I smiled. "A little. But then ..."
"Then what?"
"Well, before you, I hadn't seen any girls nude at all."
"Oh, I see," she said, grinning. "I was your first, eh?"
I nodded. "Pretty much."
"And what about the redhead on the computer?"
"Um ... I meant in person. That's just pictures."
"Still," she said. "She seemed to do quite a good job of
getting you ..." Again, all she had to do was gesture at my
condition for me to get the point.
"Well ... yeah. Of course. Because she's ... you know."
"She's what?" Rochelle seemed genuinely amused at this point.
"You know. Big."
"Because her boobs are big, you mean?"
"Well ... yeah."
"And is that what you always look for on the Web? Girls with
big boobs?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
"Why is that?" she asked.
"Um. I don't know. Because they get me the most ... you
know." This time, it was my turn to glance down at the hard-on
that was still poking proudly out of my pajama bottoms.
"I see," she said. "And is that why it's so ... you know ...
now? Because my boobs are so ... you know?"
I could tell she was poking fun at me a bit by repeating "you
know" so much, and I chuckled. "I don't know," I said. "Maybe."
She stared me straight in the eye, saying nothing, her eyebrows
arched. "Probably," I added. Still, she said nothing, and just
waited me out. "Okay, yes. I noticed yours are big, if that's
what you're asking."
Rochelle giggled at this. "There, was that so hard?" She
glanced down at my erection again. "Hm. Poor choice of words,
considering. I mean, was that such a difficult thing to say?"
"No. I guess not." I blushed hotly.
"And is that why?" she asked.
"Why what?" But as I glanced down, I realized what she meant.
"Oh. Right. Well ... yeah"
"When it popped out last night too?" she asked. "Or were you
still thinking of the redhead then?"
"No," I said, too quickly. "I mean, no to the redhead. It was
... you."
She smiled. "You know, that's very sweet, in its own way.
Kind of flattering."
All I could think to do was shrug in reply.
"Although I do wish you felt comfortable enough around me to
maybe not have one every time you see me naked."
"I can't imagine that happening," I said.
Rochelle looked at me sideways. "Oh. Now you're just being
slick."
"No, I mean it. You're like ... beautiful."
"Thank you, Benji. That's a very nice thing for any woman to
hear."
"Um. You're welcome."
"So ... does that thing have Duracell batteries in it or
something?" she joked, looking again at my erection.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, at this point, I'm just wondering it ever goes down."
"It does," I said, blushing again. "But usually not till after
... you know."
"After what?" she asked.
"You know ... after I ... take care of it." I couldn't bring
myself to say the words.
"Ohhh, I see." She grinned. "Is that part of your morning
ritual?"
"Sometimes. Or in the afternoon. Or at night. Or whenever."
"Or all three?" she asked, laughing.
I shrugged. "Sometimes."
This time, it was her turn to blush. "Oh. I was just kidding.
Really?"
"Well ... yeah."
"Wow, I had no idea teen boys were so ... active. And did you
... last night?"
I shook my head. "I was going to, but then ..."
Rochelle's face got momentarily serious. "But then ... I
walked in the room?"
I nodded sheepishly.
"The redhead?" she asked. "You were going to ..."
I nodded again, more vigorously.
"Oh, Benji, I'm sorry. I really am. I guess I didn't think
about it."
"It's okay," I said. "No big deal."
"And then later, after you saw me ..."
I shook my head again. "I wasn't sure if you'd walk in."
She looked crestfallen. "Oh jeez, now I feel like shit. I'm
really sorry."
I tried to laugh, but it sounded awkward. "It's not like I'm
dying or something."
"Yeah, but ... still. This is your private area, and you
should be able to do what you want to. And here I am, a
stranger, walking in and interrupting your ... needs and
everything."
"Really," I said. "It's okay. I'll live."
"Benji, will you do me a favor?" she asked.
"Um. Sure. What?"
"Will you please just sit down there on the toilet and go ahead
and do whatever it is you need to do?"
Was she crazy? "What??? I -- I -- no!"
"Please. I feel terrible. Look at you. You obviously need to
do something."
"Yeah, but --"
"I'll close my eyes if you want, if that's what you're worried
about. You can just look at me, at my boobs or whatever, do what
you have to do, and then we never have to mention it again."
"Are you serious?" I asked.
"Of course." Sure enough, there wasn't a hint of a smile on
her face. "Please, Benji. It would make me feel so much better
about things. And you can't tell me it wouldn't make you feel
better too."
"Well ... sure. But you're Mickey's --"
"This has nothing to do with Mickey. It's about you and me and
our future relationship. And I don't want that relationship to
start with you thinking of me as a ... you know, a dick tease."
"Rochelle, I don't think of you that way. I never would."
"No, offense, but your erection tells a different story," she
joked.
"Yeah, but it's always --"
"Benji, please. What will it take?" She took the bar of soap,
sudsed up her hands, then began -- to my great delight -- to run
those hands across her slick tits, teasing and squeezing and
groping them. I got especially turned on by the contrast of her
red-painted fingernails against her pale breasts. "There," she
said. "Does that help?"
"Rochelle, I --"
"Please?" Her eyes were big and sad, and finally broke me
down.
"Fine. Okay." I shook my head. "I can't believe a naked
woman just had to convince me to ... you know."
She giggled. "So you'll do it?"
"Yes. I guess. If that's what you really want." I started
toward the toilet.
"I do. I really do. It would go a long way toward clearing my
conscience."
I sat down on the cool toilet seat, unsure of how to begin,
even though it was something I'd done hundreds of times before.
"Um. Okay."
"How do you usually do it?" Rochelle asked.
"Well. I usually take my bottoms off all the way." I did this
as I said it, sliding them down and off, and leaving them in a
small pile on the bathroom floor. This left me completely naked,
my hard-on completely revealed. "Um. Then I get some hand
lotion." I reached over to the sink, and grabbed the bottle of
Jergen's there.
"Hand lotion, really? Why is that?" She seemed genuinely
interested.
"Well, to make it more ... slippery. Otherwise, there's too
much friction and it gets sore."
She nodded. "Oh. I didn't realize. Makes sense, though."
"Then I just ..." I squeezed a generous bit of lotion into my
hand and, all-too-fully aware that Rochelle was watching me do
it, I wrapped my fingers around my steel cock. The sensation was
more intense than any other time I'd ever touched it. "... just
... you know." As I began to stroke myself slowly, I
instinctively closed my eyes, as always, and leaned back on the
seat, my legs gradually spreading open.
"Benji?"
I opened my eyes again, staying my hand. "Yes?"
"Wouldn't you rather look at me than use your imagination?" she
asked.
"Oh. Um, yeah. Duh." I smiled awkwardly, then did as I was
told, lowering my line of sight to look down once more at her
amazing chest -- at a side view of those sweet, round, huge tits
just a few feet in front of me -- and started my hand moving
again. Oh my god. What had I done to deserve this, I wondered?
"I'm not really at a good angle here, am I?" Rochelle said.
"You're looking at me sideways. Here ..." With this, she rose
up out of the water, then sat again, this time on the back edge
of the tub, so that her calves and feet were still submerged in
the water but she was facing me. This, of course, brought her
pussy into view for the first time. Well-trimmed, but by no
means bald, it glistened wetly like the rest of her. Still, I
have to say that in spite of my curiosity about what lies between
a woman's legs, I've always been primarily a tit-man, so it only
took me a few seconds to return my attention to her
still-bobbling chest. "There," she said. "Is that better?"
"Y-yes," I stammered. "Much. Very much."
She smiled, as if proud of herself, "Good," as she continued to
watch me stroke my now throbbing member. "Oh wait, I said I'd
close my eyes didn't I? I can, if you want me to."
"It's okay," I said. "You can watch. I don't mind."
A wide grin stretched across her face upon hearing this.
"Really? Thank you. Is there ... anything else I can do? To
make it better somehow, I mean? While you're watching?"
"Um. I don't know," I said, totally getting into how much more
amazing my own hand felt at the moment than it normally did.
"Maybe some of what you were doing before? Touching them?"
"Touching my boobs? Sure, I can do that." She ran her fingers
slowly up her belly, then brought them to rest on the bottoms of
her breasts. Her red-painted fingernails teased upward, from the
undersides, over her large, perky nipples, to the top, and then
she slid her palms down the same path again. She scooped both
tits as if they were melons -- which they almost were -- and gave
them a good squeeze, then lifted them up and pushed them
together, squeezing a little more. "Is that what you had in
mind?" she asked.
But I almost wasn't listening at this point. Intent on the
sight in front of me, my hand was moving feverishly, stroking and
sliding over my engorged cock. I knew I wouldn't hold out much
longer.
"Okay, I'll take that a yes," she giggled. "How about this?"
Still holding her tits, she began to jiggle them up and down with
her hands. The fluid motion of each was mesmerizing, like
nothing I'd ever seen before. Then, with the thumb and
forefinger of each hand, she took hold of her nipples and
pinched, pulling them out and away from her body. This, as it
turned out, was the last straw ...
The first shot of cum blasted out of me so hard that it hit me
on the cheek. The rest painted my neck and chest and belly, one
blast after the other. The sensation of the orgasm was more
intense than any other I'd ever had, and it got to the point
where I could actually feel my balls emptying -- so much so that
I wouldn't have been surprised to look at them later and find
that they were gone entirely. I used the cum itself as
lubrication after a point, and relished the new-found added
pleasure my own hand was giving me. And all the while, I
continued to watch Rochelle tease and manipulate her own tits,
giving me the best and only such show I'd ever had.
As my own hand eventually slowed itself, though, I noticed that
her hands did not. I looked up at her face, and saw that as she
groped herself, she was intent on my gradually dwindling but
still-hard cock. "Rochelle, are you okay?"
"Mm-hmm," she said, more a guttural noise than a word. Her
expression was far-off. Then one of her hands began to move down
her body again, over her belly ... and between her legs! Holy
shit, I thought, and had to wonder if this was no longer a show
meant for my benefit, but maybe for her own? After all, I'd just
finished what I had to do. Anyway, as I watched, the one hand
continued to grope her tits, while the other reached down and
cupped her glistening bush. With little fanfare, her middle
finger suddenly disappeared, and the change in her expression was
instantaneous. Her mouth formed an O, and her eyes nearly rolled
back in their sockets, leaving me to wonder if I had looked THIS
euphoric as I was pleasuring myself a few minutes before.
And like myself, Rochelle's own orgasm didn't take long. Her
legs spread a bit wider, she started to buck her hips against her
hand, then let out a small moaning sound which seemed to last as
long as a minute. "Ohhhh," she said. "Oh god." For myself, I
was almost numb from the display. I just continued to sit there,
slowly fondling my cock, which seemed to be borrowing just a bit
more "hard time" from the expanded show that I was now getting.
Gradually, Rochelle's eyes became more alert again. As she
slid her finger out of herself, her legs twitched once, as if an
aftershock had struck her. Smiling, she lowered herself shakily
down into the tub of water. "Oh my," was all she said at first.
"My oh my. I wasn't expecting that."
"Yeah," I responded, still just sitting there. "Me either."
"I guess you weren't the only one who needed to take care of
themself this morning," she said, laughing.
"Heh. I guess not."
"Benji, you're, um ... kind of messy there."
I looked down at myself. "Oh. Yeah." I grabbed some toilet
paper and started mopping up the worst of the cum that was
decorating my chest and belly, all of it dripping slowly
downwards. Three big wads of toilet paper later, though,
Rochelle interrupted me ...
"If you don't mind me saying, that looks like a losing battle.
Why don't you just come over here and use the water in the tub to
clean yourself off?"
"Um ... okay." I stood and took the two steps to the tub.
"Now what?"
"Here, get closer," Rochelle said, and leaned over the edge of
the tub to meet me halfway. This put my semi-erect unit more or
less right in her face. Holy shit, I thought, as all of the
obvious fantasies raced through my mind. "I'll just do it," she
said. "Is that okay with you?"
I gulped hard. "If you ... want to."
A few seconds later, she reached up with a warm wet washrag in
one hand and began to clean my belly. "Lean over a bit more, so
I can get your chest too. That's it." And before I knew it, my
torso was no longer sticky. But something else still was. "So
... should I wash everything?" she asked, her hand pausing just
in front of my cock.
"I -- I guess."
"Okay then. I just wanted to give you fair warning." With
this, she giggled, wet the rag again, then gently wrapped it
around my shaft ... which, as the warm wetness of the cloth in
her hand enveloped it, suddenly reversed its diminishing course
and began to grow again. Whether Rochelle noticed it getting
bigger or not, I couldn't be sure. She just slowly and
deliberately ran the rag up and down the length of my cock a few
times ... then a few times more, keeping her eye on it the entire
time. "There we go," she said. "Should be clean as a whistle
now."
I chuckled nervously. "Want to blow it and see for sure?" I
joked.
"Benji!" she said, as if shocked, then smiled, releasing my
erection. "You're a bad boy."
I just shrugged. "It was worth a try."
"Well, it would probably be more than a bit ... inappropriate,
don't you think?"
"Yeah, probably," I conceded.
"So when does it go down?" she asked.
"Um ... it was. Before. After I finished."
"No way," she said, incredulous. "That's as soft as it gets?"
"Well, no. But then you ... you know, touched it."
"Seriously? It can just go back up again without ever really
going down?
I scratched the back of my head. "I guess so. It never did it
before."
"Well that's a first for me," she giggled. "No offense to the
few guys I've ... been with ... but most of them were barely able
to get it up once a day. And the ones who could do it more than
once had to take a breather in between."
"Even Mickey?" I asked, regretting the words almost as they
left my mouth.
Rochelle laughed uncomfortably. "I walked right into that,
didn't I?"
"Kind of."
"Benji, can you keep a secret?"
"Jeez, I hope so. Considering ..."
She rolled her eyes. "True enough. I think it's safe to say
nobody would understand what just happened here." With a
flourish, she gestured to my erection, her body, and the tub in
one big arcing motion. "Anyway, what I was going to say is ...
even though your brother is twice your age ... you kind of
wouldn't know by looking at the ... um ... equipment."
"Are you saying he and I are ... hung the same?"
Rochelle shook her head vehemently. "No. No, actually what
I'm saying is that you're much ..." She put her hands out, and
spread them apart from each other slowly.
"Bigger?" I asked.
"Much," she said.
"How much?" I asked, again regretting the question.
She laughed at this. "A few inches. And some width."
"Cool," I said, unsure if I should be proud of this or not. "I
think."
"And as for getting it up ... I can safely say he'd never still
be standing there with a ... you know ..." She gazed longingly
over at my erection, which was still less than a foot from her
face. "... the way you are now. Certainly not after he ...
finished himself. Sometimes, he can't even keep it up long
enough once."
I began to feel embarrassed for my brother on some primal
level.
Rochelle seemed to check herself. "Jeez, I shouldn't have just
said all that."
"It's okay," I said. "I won't ever tell anybody else."
"He's a wonderful man and everything, and I love him. And the
fact is, I really don't care about any of this all that much. I
mean, he does an excellent job of ... taking care of me ... in
the bedroom, in other ways. Which is fine with me. But then
sometimes he just gets so down on himself over it."
"Why?" I asked. "I mean, if you're happy, what's it matter,
right?"
"That's what I tell him. I guess it's because he feels like he
can't do what he thinks is ... normal or something. I think
maybe he watched too many porn movies in college, and doesn't
know what normal is any more." She smirked at this, to make it
clear that she wasn't quite being serious.
"Can that really happen?" I asked, smiling back.
"Maybe. I don't know. He's got a high set of expectations in
his head, that's for sure. Sometimes, it seems like he's got an
erection for half the day, but then when we actual start ...
getting down to business ... then he has a problem keeping it up.
I'm convinced it's just in his head."
All I had to say to this was, "Hm."
"Unlike "you," Rochelle said, and giggled. "Mister Energizer
Bunny." She lifted her hand, and ran her fingers gently along
the underside of my cock, sending a shiver through me. Then she
blushed. "Sorry. I'm doing it again, aren't I?"
"Wh-what?" I asked.
"Being a dick tease. Literally. Here the plan was to help you
lose that thing, and now it looks worse than ever."
"What? It looks bad?"
"No, that's not what I meant. Not at all ... trust me." She
stared longingly at my erection for a few seconds, then seemed to
catch herself. "It looks ... fine. I just mean, it seems like
it's even harder now than it was before. And here I am, washing
it and petting it, which can't possibly help."
"It's okay," I said. "I don't mind."
She laughed heartily at this. "No, I bet you probably don't."
"I don't," I repeated. "You can do whatever you want."
"Oh, I see. And what is it YOU want, Benji?"
"Huh?"
"Well, clearly, just letting you ... take care of yourself,
wasn't enough. Which means that my karma is just as bad now as
when we started. So what will it take to level things out
again?"
"I -- I don't know."
"Oh, I'm sure you've got some ideas. What are they?"
"Um."
"The blow comment," she said, smirking. "Is that it? Did you
want your whistle blown?"
"Well, you said that was ... inappropriate."
"I did, didn't I?" She stopped and thought. "Still though.
If we both understood that it would be just this once ... would
that make things right between us? Could we put all this behind
us, and go on to just be good friends? You know, future brother-
and sister-in-law and all that?"
"I, um ... " A voice in my head screamed that this was wrong,
and that I should NOT be accepting a blowjob from the woman who
would be my brother's wife in a few months. But I wanted it SO
badly, and had never had one, and so another voice screamed that
I was crazy if I declined. The second voice won. "I think so."
Rochelle brought her face closer to my erection. "Are you
sure?"
"Y-yes," I stammered. "Very sure."
"Okay then," she said, and already, I could feel her breath on
the tip of my cock. "Here we go." A moment later, I found
myself in heaven, as her warm mouth wrapped itself around the top
third of my throbbing member and began, gently, to suckle on it.
One hand, meanwhile, reached up to grip it lightly by the base.
I could already feel myself becoming weak in the knees, and
held on to the wall for support. I didn't have any past
experience to compare to, but I was pretty sure I wasn't the
first guy she'd ever sucked off before.
While sliding my shaft further and further into her mouth,
Rochelle let her hand wander down to my balls, which she began to
tease expertly with her nails and the tips of her fingers.
Unbelievable, I thought, as I felt the head of my cock hit the
back of her throat. When her lips kissed the tops of my balls,
she eased me back out again, applying strong suction and tongue
action the entire way. As I watched, she slid me in and out of
her mouth like this a few more times, then pulled it out and
looked up at me, her eyes wide and innocent. "Am I doing okay?"
she asked.
My throat was too dry to speak, so I just nodded.
She kissed and fondled and cooed over my now-steel erection a
bit more, then went back to work. Hungrily, she took me in, then
out, at least another half dozen times, groaning slowly louder
each time. I glanced around her head, and saw that her free hand
was under the water, moving vigorously. Clearly, she'd decided
to "take care" of herself again too. This just turned me on all
the more, and the knowledge of it tripped a switch inside my
head. Or heads, as it were. Because just about then, my balls
contracted, my legs went a bit numb, and I began to explode.
Rochelle seemed all too happy about this, and as she hummed and
moaned at how good her own hand felt under the water, she pulled
my cock out of her mouth and proceeded to stroke it. The cum
jetted out of me in hot sticky strings. Some of it she directed
into her mouth, and the rest she let fall across her face. This
round didn't last quite as long as the first one had, though, and
as it died down, she took me back into her mouth again to lick
and suck me clean. Then she sank back into the hot water of the
tub, her face dripping with my ooze, and her hand still moving
rhythmically between her legs. Gradually, even that motion
stopped, and she just lay there with a bemused smile on herface.
For my own part, I found I had to sit back on the toilet again
to regain my strength.
Rochelle reached up and felt the cum on her cheek, then brought
her fingers to her mouth. "Looks like I'm the one who's a mess
this time," she said, and without any warning, submerged her
entire head under the water, wiping her face clean in the
process. When she rose again, her face wet, she looked over at
me. "Better?" she asked.
"You didn't look bad the other way," I said, smiling.
"Very funny. I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Not really, no. I mean ... there haven't been any."
"I was your first?" she asked. "Well well. I feel honored.
Sort of."
"I know I do," I joked. "That was amazing."
She laughed while blushing. "Thanks. I had a lot to work
with."
Just then, I heard a knock on one of the bedroom doors. I
couldn't tell which one at first, until my mother's voice called
out, "Benji? You know, those walks aren't going to shovel
themselves."
I stood quickly, and walked to the middle of my room. "I know,
Ma. I just ... overslept. I'll be out in a few."
"Don't take too long. You know how your father is -- he'll try
to do it himself and throw out his back."
"I know. I won't." I stood there naked for a few moments
more, and waited for the sound of my mother walking away from my
door. Once I heard that, I padded back over to the bathroom.
Rochelle was already out of the tub, drying herself off with a
towel. Again, her boobs jiggled and bounced, and again I was
mesmerized by the sight. But by this point, my dick was too
tired to rise to the occasion, and she noticed it. "Oh look,"
she said, smirking. "It finally went to sleep."
"Yeah. Talking to my mother will have that effect," I said,
and Rochelle laughed. "But if I stand here watching you for too
long, I think all bets will be off."
"Well then maybe you'd better get dressed and go shovel some
sidewalks, young man."
I sighed, "Yeah I guess," then took one last longing look at
Rochelle's amazing body, trying to preserve the image of it in my
mind forever -- every curve and peak and valley, all of it
imported directly from my fantasies.
"So ... Benji?" she said, tentatively.
"Yeah?"
"Are we agreed about all of this? About ... you know. How
nobody needs to know?"
"Yeah, I understand."
"I really don't even think it's a good idea that Mickey finds
out I told you about the nudist thing."
"Okay," I said. "I won't tell."
"Maybe someday ... but not yet."
I just nodded.
"Good," she said, smiling. "It was nice, though, don't you
think?"
"It was ... tremendous. Amazing. Outstanding. Beyond belief
..."
"Okay okay, I get the idea." She giggled. "Thanks." And with
that, she dropped the towel, took a few steps toward me, gave me
a full body hug -- pressing her considerable chest against mine
-- and kissed me once, quickly, on the mouth. "Thanks for
everything," she said, then pulled away again, and sauntered over
to her room. She paused to turn back and blow one more kiss at
me, then swung the door shut behind her.
* * *
Later that day, Mickey arrived. Somehow, he'd finagled one of
the first flights home. We were all happy to see him, and nobody
moreso than Rochelle. The rest of that week, I kept expecting
things to be awkward between she and I, but they really weren't.
She was just one of those great people who seems to effortlessly
be able to put people at ease. I'll be honest, part of me kept
hoping that Mickey would maybe leave the house for while at some
point, so maybe I could corner Rochelle in the bedroom for a
repeat performance ... but there was never an opening. And it
was probably just as well. Once I'd seen her and Mickey kissing
all over the house, it made me feel guilty about what had
happened. So I doubt I'd have been able to justify doing
anything more than I already had.
In hindsight, though, maybe I should have. Because about two
months later, we received the news from Mickey that he and
Rochelle had split, and that the wedding was off. We never
pressed him about the reason why, and he never offered much. He
just said something about the chemistry falling apart. I
wondered if it had something to do with either her free-wheeling
spirit or his insecurities in the bedroom, but there was no way
to know for sure. I considered once or twice contriving a reason
to ask Mickey if he had some kind of forwarding address or phone
number for Rochelle, but I always talked myself out of it. Maybe
that was a mistake too. I guess I'll never know.
I also don't know why Rochelle told me she was a nudist.
Because not too long ago, when Mickey and I got drunk during a
family visit, the subject of nudism came up, and I made a sly
comment to him about Rochelle, mometarily forgetting that I
wasn't supposed to know about it. And Mickey's response was
pretty clear on the subject -- not only was Rochelle NOT a nudist
as far as he knew, but her father was a minister and her mother a
Bible-thumper. What's more, he said that although she sometimes
slept nude during the summer, she almost never walked around that
way in their apartment. He questioned where I would get such an
idea, but I managed to change the subject quickly.
So everything considered, there are a lot of things I don't
understand and never will about that cold and snowy day in
December. All I do know is, no matter how harsh that winter
might have been, because of it I got the best possible Christmas
present that a 15 year-old boy could ever hope to receive.
And let me tell you -- it was almost enough to make this boy
believe in Santa Claus again.
FINI <1st attachment end>
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has
been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an
email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation
software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
------- 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> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+