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From: Charles Dodgson <chaz_dodgson@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} COMMUTE FROM SCHOOL_j [C.Dodgson] (Mf12;o,v;rom,con,slow)
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Date: Tue, 19 Apr 2005 17:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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I had just turned twelve and hadn't started to develop physically in any
way yet.  Although, if I had, nothing would have shown from under the
Catholic School uniform.  My thoughts had matured much faster than my body.
I was constantly curious about every aspect of sex.  The girls at school
were a year older than I because I had skipped a grade, so they were a
continuing source of information, and as I later found out, a small amount
of it was even accurate.  I lived with my grandmother and my unmarried
aunt, and they avoided ever talking about it.  Only recently had I found
another source.

   In fact, my aunt seldom talked with me about anything.  Her antipathy
toward my mother had all been turned toward me since my mother died.  No
one ever told me why she felt that way, but I had pieced together the
events from bits of overheard conversations and my searches through old
correspondence and diaries that were locked away and supposedly
inaccessible.

   My aunt had been engaged to be married when she came home early one
afternoon, and found her fiancé in bed with my mother who was fifteen at
the time.  The boyfriend and my mother were both banished.  My mother moved
in with him, and I was born a year later.  He moved back to England as soon
as that happened and has never been heard from, since.  My mother, sixteen
at the time, unmarried, with a new baby and no means of support, had a
breakdown.  When she was institutionalized, my grandmother became my
guardian.  Five years later, when they were giving my mother shock therapy
her heart stopped, and she died.

   My aunt saw me as the embodiment of the two people she believed had
ruined her life, so she never failed to take her anger out on me.  I came
out of my room only to do my chores, go to school, eat, or get books from
my late grandfather's library.  He had a large selection so I read
incessantly.

   From what I understood of him, he was brilliant and knew enough about
almost every subject to discuss it intelligently.  Unfortunately, he
couldn't seem to use his knowledge to make much of a living.  One of his
less unsuccessful ventures was a seven store mini-shopping center he built.
The rent from six of them only paid the mortgage and other expenses.

   The seventh store had been rented to a temperamental cleaner who
alienated most of his customers, went broke, and walked away from the
store. My grandfather had just died so my grandmother got a court order to
sell the cleaning equipment to pay the back rent.  Since no one would bid
more than a few cents on the dollar, she took the business over and has
been running it ever since then.  With her and my aunt working there, they
made an adequate living.

   Each day after school I rode the Metro home, did my homework, cleaned
the house and made dinner.  My grandmother and aunt always got home at 8:00
P.M..  It was seven o'clock and everything had been done.  I rummaged
through another of my grandfather's storage boxes stacked in the basement.
My grandmother had never bothered going through them, but she didn't want
to throw them away in case there was anything of value in them.  Most of
the contents were old magazine and newspaper articles he had felt were
important.  Some of the boxes, however, did have other kinds of contents.
That was where I had found the information about my mother.

   Apparently she had a more open and honest relationship with my
grandfather than she had with her mother.  I found a large stack of letters
addressed to him at a post office box and sent while she was in the mental
hospital.  From these I learned that she had her first sexual experience
when she was eleven with an elderly neighbor.  He was very gentle and
taught her over the next year.  After his stroke he remained in a nursing
home so she never saw him again.

   My aunt's boyfriend tried to seduce my mother when she was fourteen. 
She wrote about the fun she had, playing innocent and alternately blocking
his plans then "unconsciously" getting him excited.  Finally, she let him
think he had cleverly managed to get her to have sex with him.  Apparently,
they had been having sex daily for a little over a year before my aunt
caught them.  According to the letters my aunt, as an older sister, had
always been cruel to my mother.  It was because of this history that my
mother didn't mind going to bed with my aunt's boyfriend.

   I had also found a few boxes that had books, magazines, film, and
notebooks in them.  I'm sure my grandmother would have destroyed them had
she known what they contained.  My grandfather had information on just
about every perversion except pain or coercion.  I don't know whether he
actually did them or just fantasized.  I learned a great deal about the
more exotic aspects of sex and studied the pictures as carefully as I would
have examined an anatomy book.  By the time I'd gone through the
publications I knew as much as anyone could from pictures.  I had learned
about the size and shape of the male and female organs, how they joined,
and other ways and places of stimulating them.  Following the directions in
one of the articles, I learned about orgasms first hand, so to speak.  It
felt very good, and I thought that was what an orgasm was.  However, I
really wanted to experience more of what I read about.

   I got on the Metro for the long ride home and found a sideways facing
seat where I usually sat.  The same old man was there every day.  He always
sat behind the forward facing seats, facing toward the aisle of the car
just as I did.  We sometimes talked, and he seemed to be a very nice
person.

   After two stops downtown, it was standing-room-only as usual.  I opened
a school book in my lap, lowered my head as if I were reading, so my bangs
covered my eyes, and looked around.  My eyes were at penis height.  I
looked at the pants fronts of all the men who were standing, hanging onto
the poles.  Often I could make out the silhouette and occasionally I'd see
one of the men get an erection.  They always tried to hide it, but they
often did it by putting something like a package above it.  This may have
blocked the view of others who were standing, but I could still watch their
pants tent out, and occasionally develop a small wet spot.  Today, my view
was blocked by a young man who stood straddling the pole in front of me. 
He held a paper up, as if to read, and he swayed with the car as we moved.
However, he held himself close to the poll.  I noticed that each time he
swayed back and forth he rubbed against the pole.  It took only a few
minutes for him to get a major erection.  I thought it was funny to watch
it flip from one side of the pole to the other.  Suddenly, the tent jerked
and a large dark spot formed on his pants.  This was wonderful.  I looked
up at him and grinned.  I was happy for him and loved watching him, but his
face flushed even brighter red when he realized I had seen what he'd done.
He turned and hopped out of the car just before we were to start up away
from the station, again.

   I looked around to see if anyone else noticed, but everyone seemed
oblivious, that is, everyone until I turned my head to look at the old man
sitting immediately to my right.  Our eyes met, and he smiled broadly at
me. Now it was my turn to be embarrassed.  I blushed and turned to look
straight forward.  He said quietly, "No reason for you to be upset.  He was
the performer; we were merely interested observers.  You can see just about
everything on the Metro if you ride it long enough." He had never seemed to
notice my voyeurism, before.  A man took the other fellow's place at the
pole, but he faced in the opposite direction and hung on while he read his
folded newspaper.

   Before I answered, I looked around again.  The people to his left were
facing away from us.  The guy to my right smelled of alcohol, had his head
back, and was snoring quietly.

   I didn't face the old man, but said, "He was right in front of me.  I
couldn't help looking."

   "Well, I've noticed that you survey the crotch of every male standing in
the area every day.  You just got to see more than usual today.  There's
nothing wrong with looking at people and incorporating them into your
sexual fantasies.  I do the same thing with the women who ride the Metro."

   I don't know what got into me, but I asked, "Does that include me?"

   "It certainly does because you are quite beautiful, but I have to use
more imagination because of your raincoat and bulky uniform.  At times I
imagine you sitting next to me with both of us naked, but with our
raincoats in our laps as they are now.  I envision the feel of your smooth,
firm leg pressing against mine, my hand on your leg, you moving my hand too
between your legs, and me slowly and gently stroking you."

   "Do you ever fantasize that I reach under your raincoat and pet you,
too?" I heard myself asking.  My breath was coming in short, jerky puffs. I
unconsciously began to spread my legs apart, then caught myself and closed
them tightly together.  That action unexpectedly stimulated me quite
strongly.

   "Yes, but I have to be careful because even the thought of you doing
that could easily bring on an accident similar to the one we just
witnessed. In fact, just this quiet conversation has caused me to approach
his state." He shifted his raincoat away from his lap for a moment, and I
saw how his pants were stretched up.

   I had wanted to feel a penis in my hand for more than three years, and
here was an opportunity.  "Do you want me to hold it?" I slid my hand under
my raincoat and moved it toward him.

   He shoved his raincoat nearer to me so that he was covered again and the
two coats offered a hidden path to him.  "You lovely child.  That would be
delightful." I burrowed toward him, bumped into something hard and fleshy,
and wrapped my fingers around it.  It felt exactly like what the girls had
described as an erect penis.  This was wonderful and would have been even
better if only his pants and the raincoat weren't there to get in the way.

   "I wish I could see it and really feel it.  Do you want to take it out?"
He recognized risks that I didn't so he shook his head.  I was
disappointed, but I kept caressing it.

   "What time do you have to be home?" he asked.

   "Well, I usually get home at 4:30, but my grandmother and aunt don't get
home from the store until 8:00.  I have to get dinner ready, but that only
takes an hour.  I don't have much studying to do, so I could do it later.
Why?" I had hoped his question was leading to an invitation to do more, and
I didn't want to take the chance of him not offering.

   "If we ride one stop past yours, we'll be at my stop.  We could go to my
apartment and I could show you a few things I think you'll like even more.
Are you game?" he asked softly.

   My grandmother and aunt had constantly warned me about going with
strangers, but I had gotten to know him on the Metro, and I had to find out
for myself what the activities I had seen in the magazines felt like.  "OK,
as long as we can do it before 6:30."

   We got off the train, walked up to street level, then a block to a very
nice high rise apartment building.  As we walked inside, he said, "By the
way, we haven't been introduced.  My name is Bartholomew Jordan.  You may
call me 'Bart'."

   "My name's Katherine Hall, Mr.  Jordan, I mean, Bart.  Everyone calls me
'Kate,' but I prefer 'Kathy'."

   "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Kathy," he said.  Bart pushed
the elevator button, and we rode to the seventeenth floor.  His apartment
was large and well decorated.

   He was surprised when he asked who I normally did this with, and I
answered that I had never done it before.  "Really, you've never had any
experience?  How about boyfriends?" Bart asked.

   "No, my grandmother doesn't allow me to have any boyfriends.  I've heard
the girls at school telling stories concerning all that stuff, but I didn't
know exactly what they were talking about.  Now I know a little from what
we just did, but I'm not going to tell them anything we do, because sooner
or later the sisters find out about it and punish them.  It was so much fun
holding you that I don't think it's a sin, so I'm not going to tell about
it at confession, either."

   "I'll be right back," Bart said as he went into the bathroom.  When he
came out, he was wearing a robe.  He slipped it off, and I saw his penis
for the first time.  It was sticking up and forward, it was very straight,
and it looked as hard as it felt before.  I loved how it looked like a
lollipop or sucker with that big red top.

   We sat on the couch, and I grabbed Bart's penis.  He stroked my hair and
said, "We have time to be gentle and loving, Kathy." I moved my hand up and
felt the skin slide forward.  I wanted to feel the head of it so I moved my
hand down so the skin got pulled back.  I let go, moved up, and wrapped my
hand around the top of it.  It was so wonderful to watch the skin hide him
then slide down to reveal that bright red, glistening globe.  It was so
smooth.  I hadn't expected that.  I felt the round top of it, and how it
sloped down on top to a thick ridge.  The top was definitely bigger around
than the rest of the shaft.  I loved the way the skin rolled up and down as
I moved forward and backward.  I kept this up for a few minutes.  Suddenly,
I felt his shaft swell and start to pulse.  Then a stream shot out, up and
arced down so it landed on his knee.  The rest of it pumped out into my
hand.  I loved the warm slippery feel of it, so I kept sliding it up and
down the head of his penis.  As I did, Bart kept shuddering and pumping out
slippery fluid.  After a few moments, he put his hand on mine and
whispered, "That's all I can take, child.  Just hold me."

   With the impatience of youth, I asked, "Can we do some other stuff,
now?"

   "You dear child, I'm going to love teaching you the pleasures of making
love.  Since we don't have much time today, I'm going to skip the
preliminaries and get right to an intermediate part.  Later, when we have
more time, I'll teach you the important parts of kissing, caressing, and
talking with each other."

   He kissed my cheek and began to caress my leg through my skirt.  "Just
lean back on the couch and enjoy the feelings, Kathy." He rolled off the
couch and onto his knees between my legs.  His hands slowly slid up from my
legs to the roundness of my rear.  The tingles continued all through my
body, but now they were even stronger at my little nipples and between my
legs.  Bart looked at me questioningly, and I smiled at him as he continued
to stroke and knead my bottom.  Slowly he rotated his hands so the fingers
were still in back, His palms were on my hips, and his thumbs had moved
forward so they were about four inches apart on each side of the center of
my tingling.  He slid his hands so his thumbs moved together and started
stroking up and down, still very slowly.  I felt wonderful, but the thick
pleated woolen skirt was certainly in the way.

   I don't know what got into me, but I reached down, grabbed a handful of
skirt and started gathering it up so the bottom hem was moving up from my
knees.  After just a bit of this he slid his hands down under my skirt and
back up again.  I let the skirt go so it covered his hands.  Bart's fingers
caressed my thighs and moved along the edge of my panties to the front and
stroked me vertically along my centerline.  The tingling was so strong, I
was afraid I'd faint, but I didn't want him to stop.  As I spread my legs
wider, he slid his fingers between my panties and my skin and up into that
depression he had just been stroking.  Everything seemed so smooth and
slippery.  I didn't know that I had been exuding lubricating fluid.

   It wasn't cold, but I was shivering.  Suddenly, I felt wonderful
electric shocks make my muscles jerk.  I couldn't focus, my knees were
weak, I was pressing into his hand as hard as I could.  Gently, Bart slowed
down and sort of reversed the process of caressing me.  I just sat there
remembering how wonderful I had just felt and still felt.  "That was
wonderful," I whispered, "I thought I knew about orgasms from my reading,
but I didn't know they felt that good."

   "Your first time?" he asked.  I nodded affirmatively, and he smiled. 
"You have many more wonders still in store for you, Kathy.  What just
happened is only the beginning." After a few minutes of him caressing me
and telling me how much he loved looking at me and how beautiful I was, he
stood up.

   "Let's hang up your coat so it can dry and get you out of those clothes
because they're somewhat wet, too." I realized Bart wanted me to get
undressed for other stuff, too, but I slipped my sweater, blouse, and skirt
off.  I knew I should have been shy about letting anyone see me without my
clothes on, but no one had seen me before and I wanted to know what he
really thought of my body when there were no clothes to hide it.  Then he
helped me take off my shoes and socks and my slip.  I didn't wear a bra
because there was little there to fit into one.  He slid my panties down,
folded them and put them with the rest of my clothes.  "Gorgeous, just
gorgeous.  Kathy, you are dazzlingly beautiful, child." I could hardly
breathe when Bart said that.

   Then he picked me up and carried me into the bedroom.  He wrapped his
arms around me and kissed my forehead, then my cheeks, and my neck.  He
lowered us both to the bed and moved down.  When Bart's lips and tongue
contacted my nipples, I jumped.  It didn't hurt, but it tickled so much it
surprised me.  As he continued, I lay their loving the feel of him licking
and sucking them.  I never knew they would feel that good if someone did
that.  The soft touch of his hand on my body sent tingles all through me.
His hands slowly slid up from my legs to the roundness of my rear.  The
tingles continued all through my body, but now they were even stronger at
my little nipples and between my legs.  Bart looked at me to get my
reaction, and I smiled at him as he continued to stroke and knead my
bottom.

   Finally, he moved his head down across my stomach and began to slide his
tongue and lips all around the skin just above where he had put his fingers
earlier.  I couldn't believe how wonderful it would feel, but when he moved
down to the crease and slid his tongue into it, I thought I'd lose
consciousness.  Bart burrowed around as if he were looking for something,
then he found it.  I spread my legs as widely as possible so nothing would
be in the way of him continuing to do what he was doing.

   It didn't take long for a repeat of what happened to me on the couch. 
Only this time it didn't stop.  Bart kept his tongue and lips stroking up
and down my groove at high speed, and he kept tickling that spot near the
front that was driving me crazy.  I continued jerking and thrashing around
as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me.  It finally moved to a
constant flow of joy.  Now I was aware enough that I wanted to hold his
thing at the same time.  I twisted around and grabbed his shaft.  It was
right in front of my face so I could hold it and examine it closely.  He
continued to kiss, and lick and suck me as I slid the skin up and down over
the deep red head of it.

   I saw a drop of fluid come out of the tip.  I don't know what possessed
me, but I leaned forward and slid my tongue over it.  It felt so smooth, I
engulfed it with my mouth and started to suck and lick it.  I wanted to
have it as deeply as possible inside me.  This seemed to make him suck and
lick me even more ardently, so I sucked him faster and harder.  Each time
one of us escalated the activity of our mouths on the other's penis or
groove, the other one speeded up, too.  My whole body was shaking violently
and thrusting into Bart's mouth.  Suddenly, my mouth filled with a warm
slippery fluid.  It was somewhat bitter, and normally I would have disliked
it, but now all I could think of was sucking and being sucked.  He pushed
his penis as far into my mouth as he could, just as I thrust against him as
hard as I could.

   Eventually, he collapsed, but I kept on sucking Bart's penis because it
was now soft and smaller and enjoyable in an entirely different way.  As he
did earlier, he gasped, "No more, Kathy, that's all I can take.  Just hold
me." I cradled his penis in my mouth and lay their feeling completely
content.

   When we finally rolled apart, Bart kissed every part of my body and told
me how wonderful I was.  I had never had anyone tell me that before in my
life.  I loved listening to him and feeling him make love to me.

   He looked at the clock and said, "We'd better get you dressed and home.
It's almost 6:30.  You are amazing, child.  I've had quite a bit of
experience with adult women when I was younger but none since my wife died
five years ago, and nothing and no one compares with you.  Are you willing
to try out some more things over the next few days?"

   "Oh yes, but if they're better than what we just did I don't know if I
can take it either." I rolled over, kissed him on the lips then got up and
got dressed.  We rode the elevator down to the garage where his car was,
and we started the short drive home.

   "Why do you ride the Metro when you have a car?" I asked.

   "It's much easier to ride the Metro than to bother with parking the car
down town every day.  Although the car would be much faster, I don't mind
riding the public transportation.  After all, I'd never have met you if I'd
driven to work.  However, that gives me an idea.  What time do you get out
of school?"

   "The last class lets out at 3:15 and it takes me fifteen minutes to go
to my locker then walk to the Metro," I answered.

   "Well, how would it be if I met you just outside the station tomorrow
and we drove home in the car?  That way, we could get another forty-five
minutes."

   "That sounds wonderful.  I'll watch for you at the station tomorrow." He
dropped me off about a half block from my grandmother's apartment, and I
walked the rest of the way.  I was floating on air as I made dinner and got
everything ready for my grandmother and aunt.

   If they had been at all aware of me when they walked in, they would have
noticed how happy I was.  However, all they did was make a few nasty
comments at each other.  Although they were mother and daughter, they
didn't seem to like each other very much.  My grandmother was a cold woman,
but she didn't dislike me.  When my mother died, my aunt transferred her
anger for her sister to me.  We ate dinner in relative silence, and I
cleaned up the dishes.  I excused myself, saying I had a bit more homework
than usual, so I could do the assignments I would have done earlier.

   As I bathed before bed, I caressed myself as Bart had.  It felt good,
both by itself and as a memory of what had happened, but it didn't compare
with what he had done for me.

   The next day I couldn't wait for school to end.  Even though my mind was
occupied with that thought I seemed to think more clearly than ever.  One
sister even complimented me for the extemporaneous answers I gave to some
questions she directed at me.

   I rushed to the station and stood on the street corner looking for
Bart's car.  After ten minutes I was getting worried.  I really wanted
practice having sex with him, and I wanted him to teach me some more. 
Finally, he pulled up beside me.  As I hopped in the car, I said, "I was
scared that you wouldn't come."

   He said, "Traffic was a bit heavier than usual, but I was only three
minutes late.  What time did you get here, Kathy?"

   "I wasn't thinking.  You're right.  I rushed so much that I got here
more than ten minutes early.  What are we going to do today?"

   "Well, we're going to prepare your vagina for entrance.  I don't want to
cause you any pain from tearing your hymen or stretching your vagina
suddenly.  I'm certainly not built any differently from average, but since
it will be your first time, It could hurt you if we didn't take it slowly
and gently.  So, today we'll spend part of the time doing about the same as
yesterday, and the rest of the time getting ready for the next step."

   "Then, can we do it tomorrow?" I asked.

   "It depends on how fast our progress is.  I'd rather be too cautious
than take the chance of hurting you."

   That day, we spent more time kissing and petting each other.  Bart
gently began to teach me how to make love.  This time when he was, as he
said, "doing oral" on me, he inserted his little finger into a small hole
in my hymen and pushed inside me just a short way.  I could feel myself
stretching, but it didn't particularly hurt.  When I started to have an
orgasm, he pushed his little finger deeper.  Feeling Bart's finger inside
certainly was strange, though.  I sucked on his penis until he had an
orgasm, then he repeated on me again until I had another one.  This last
one felt different because I seemed to keep having it for about four or
five times as long.

   The next day Bart used his middle finger and managed to get it inside me
the full length of it.  I still didn't have any pain, just some stretching
feeling.  By the end of the week he had stretched the tiny hole in my hymen
so that he could get three fingers through it and inside me.  I really
liked it when Bart did oral on me, but his fingers just seemed to be close
to triggering some even stronger feeling.

   On Monday, we made love the usual way, but then he gently laid me back
on the bed, spread my legs and knelt over me.  I felt him sliding the hard,
smooth head of his penis up and down between my labia.  Then he moved it to
the mouth of my vagina and began to push against me slowly.  Bart's
erection spread me wide and began to enter me.  I loved feeling him on top
of me, very close, but not weighing down on me.  Finally, he was all the
way in.  I felt very full and stretched, but he was right about there not
being any pain.

   "Oh, you do feel wonderful, child.  You're so beautiful, looking up at
me; I love the feel of your firm, smooth young body pressing against mine.
The way you cradle and hold me so warm and snug inside you is an ecstasy
that I had forgotten."

   He began to move in and out which felt pleasant but wasn't particularly
erotic to me.  The only time I really enjoyed it was when Bart was all the
way in and pressing against my clitoris.  Slowly, I started to notice that
the walls of my vagina were a bit more sensitive than I had thought.  In
fact, the stimulation there was almost as nice as the feeling in my
clitoris.  When he had an orgasm, I really enjoyed feeling Bart's penis
swell and spasm.  Suddenly, I felt hot and tingly deep inside myself.  For
some reason his semen made me extremely aware of him.  However, I didn't
have an orgasm.

   He stayed inside for quite a while afterward, petting me and talking
with me.  Bart made me feel better than anyone in the world had.  He was so
tender and so interested in my ideas and feelings.  But, he didn't just
listen; he also told me what his dreams were and how he felt about things.
It was wonderful to have someone I could really talk with as one person to
another.  Even though I hadn't had an orgasm, I loved this kind of sex with
Bart.

   Eventually, he pulled out, and I felt a twinge of loss and emptiness.  I
hadn't expected him to move down and start "doing oral" on me, but that's
exactly what he did.  Although I hadn't been aroused before, the moment his
lips touched my labia and his tongue found my clitoris and vaginal opening
I started moving and thrusting.  In only a few seconds I had a wild and
powerful orgasm.

   Gradually, over the next few weeks, Bart taught me how to enjoy genital
sex.  It took awhile, but my orgasms from that way were just as good and
frequent as from oral.  While we continued having sex every day, he spent
more and more time teaching me to be affectionate and loving.  Although
neither my grandmother nor my aunt had ever shown me any affection, I took
to it naturally.

   We continued making love six days a week for the next year.  Saturdays
were particularly nice because we could take time to go out to restaurants
for lunch, to visit museums, and to see afternoon plays, concerts, operas
and movies.  Bart was determined to "make me a whole person" as he said.

   Bart had mentioned that he had planned to retire to Southern California
quite soon, but that he had delayed it because he didn't want to leave me.

   A few days after my thirteenth birthday, my aunt got sick at work, came
home early, and I wasn't there.  She demanded explanations, and she didn't
believe me when I said I had been at a girlfriend's.  "Admit it, you're a
slut just like your mother.  You've been finding boys to have sex with."

   When my grandmother got home, they wanted to know exactly where I had
been.  By then I was crying and wouldn't tell them anything.  My
grandmother said, "Well, you'd better be home immediately after school,
tomorrow, young lady.  We're bringing you to a doctor for an examination. I
won't stand for anything immoral happening twice in my family."

   I was terrified and called Bart at his work the next morning as soon as
I could.  He tried to calm me, but I could tell that he was quite
concerned. I promised that I'd never tell anyone that he was involved.  He
said, "Kathy, dear child, that's the least of our problems.  It's what
happens to you that I worry about.  I have an idea that we may or may not
be able to implement.  First, how would you feel about going to California
with me?"

   "That sounds wonderful, but how could we do it?  My grandmother would
never give her consent."

   "Unfortunately, we'd have to do some illegal things to accomplish it,
but I think I can get some forged papers drawn up showing that you are my
daughter.  Are you willing to try?"

   The idea of leaving Toronto and everything I knew, was frightening, but
I was so scared of what my grandmother was going to do when she learned
that I wasn't a virgin that I said, "OK, if you think it would work.  I
don't want to get you into trouble, too."

   The next afternoon the doctor confirmed my aunt and grandmother's
suspicions.  Although they interrogated me for hours, I wouldn't tell them
who was involved.  My aunt said, "It's just bad blood - probably so many
boys that she can't remember a specific one.  The mother was a slut and
so's her daughter.  Don't think you're going to get away with this, young
lady.  You're not going to bring any more shame to my reputation.  It's
time to put you in a convent." My grandmother agreed.  That night they made
me stay in my room and start packing.  I began to separate things in my
room into what I would take and what I would leave.

   The next morning, they brought me to school, discussed the situation,
and chose a convent school for me to attend.  By that evening I was signed
up, packed, and ready to leave the next day.

   At eleven o'clock I heard a tapping at my window.  I looked out and saw
Bart.  I raised the glass a bit and told him everything that had happened,
in a whisper.  "I have all the papers if you're ready to leave," he said.

   I quietly raised the window the rest of the way, handed him my
conveniently packed bags and the boxes of my other belongings that they had
planned to put in the basement.  Then I climbed out of the window.  We
carried everything to his car, drove to his apartment and unloaded most of
it there.  He took the two bags he had packed, two of mine, and we drove to
the border very early in the morning.  The officials checked everything and
let us through.  Bart explained to me that we had to get past the border
before anyone knew I was missing.

   He drove to a motel in Buffalo where he had previously registered and
checked us in while I waited in the car.  Then we drove to a side entrance
and brought the bags to the room.  He wanted to avoid any more people
seeing me than necessary.  Then he called and made plane reservations for
California from the airport in Newark, New Jersey.  We spent the day in bed
enjoying all the things he had taught me.  We didn't even go out for meals
but had room service.  The next morning he checked out, and we drove all
the way to the airport.  He parked in the long term storage lot, we caught
the courtesy bus then checked in and boarded the plane.

   We arrived in Los Angeles in the late afternoon, went to the car rental
place where he had reserved one and drove to another motel.  Again, he
checked in while I waited in the car.  We then drove to a Mexican
restaurant for dinner.  I had never had food like that but it was
wonderful. We went back to the motel, showered and collapsed into bed.  We
didn't do anything but cuddle, then we both fell asleep.  The next day we
looked for a furnished apartment in an area called Torrance.  We found a
two-bedroom one, and Bart paid the deposit and rent, however, it wouldn't
be ready for another three days, so we spent the time sightseeing.

   Once we were situated in the apartment, Bart stocked the kitchen
thoroughly, bought a number of books on school subjects and told me to
study because he'd be testing me when he got back.  I stayed inside while
he flew back to Newark, drove back to Toronto, sold the car, and had all
his furniture and our belongings shipped to Los Angeles.  He then flew back
directly from Toronto.  I had really missed him so we stayed in bed for
three days, getting up only to eat, go to the bathroom and shower
(together).

   We drove around the area and found some very nice condominiums in a city
called Rancho Palos Verdes at the top of a hill.  He bought an incredibly
expensive, three bedroom one that had a great view of the entire Los
Angeles basin.  It certainly is a beautiful city at night with all the
lights sparkling.  Since the schools were about to close for summer
vacation we had two months to get oriented, and for Bart to get some
falsified records that showed I came from a school in Montreal that had had
a fire and lost all its records.

   I loved Rolling Hills High School, but never went out with any of the
boys because Bart and I were too busy having sex every way possible and as
often as possible.  His penis felt wonderful in each of my three orifices.
Although most of the kids were sexually active, I doubt that many of them
had sex as often as Bart and I did.  I certainly enjoyed the sex education
classes because I didn't have to do any studying.

   When I enrolled at UCLA Bart wanted to get me an apartment in Westwood,
but I couldn't bear being away from him so I drove there and home each day.
Bart died ten years after I got my PhD in Psychology and left me far more
money than I thought he had.  I have a thriving practice and specialize in
patients dealing with intergenerational sexual situations.  I seem to be
more successful than most, possibly because I don't have the negative
attitude most therapists do.

   ===

   This fictional story is (c) Copyright 1993 by C.  Dodgson.  ALL Rights
Reserved.  It may not be reproduced in any form for profit including use by
membership for fee Internet sites without the written permission of the
author.  It may be distributed or archived provided that there are no
charges and this warning notice is attached and the story is not changed or
abridged.  To comment send e-mail to chaz_dodgson at yahoo dot com.



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