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From: Charles Dodgson <chaz_dodgson@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} CHANGES-j (mf,Mf,fM;nc,con,rom;v,o) [C.Dodgson]
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Date: Fri,  6 May 2005 00:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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CHANGES-j (Not much sex, but more plot.  Not a stroke story.)

   Part 1 of 2.

   My parents divorced when I had just turned thirteen.  My father, a high
school teacher, made us sell our house, and they split the money they got
from it.  He left for the east coast with his seventeen-year-old girlfriend
and that was the last we ever saw of him.  We learned he had met her when
she was twelve through a church program that had their members volunteer to
tutor sixth grade students.  From some notes my mother found when we were
cleaning out his stuff, he had been sleeping with the girl ever since two
weeks after he started tutoring her.

   My mother and I moved to a two-bedroom apartment close to the job she
had just found.  This meant I'd have to change schools.  I was a year and a
half ahead of my class, and I hadn't started developing very much, so I
wasn't too popular.  At my old school, I at least had a lot of girlfriends.
No one was very friendly at the new high school so I was pretty lonely. 
Although it was a four-year school, and I started in the ninth grade at the
same time as everyone else, they all had friends from junior high.

   As I picked up the mail at the entrance to our apartment, the apartment
manager- maintenance man smiled and said, "Hi Lisa.  How was school,
today?"

   "Fine," I said, as I ran up the stairs.  Each day as I came home from
school he tried to talk with me.  He was a very old man with a white beard
who looked like a skinny Santa Claus.  He kept his beard trimmed short
though, and he seemed friendly, but I had heard about dirty old men so I
figured he was just one of those, probably like my father.  I never stopped
to talk with him, and tried to avoid him whenever I could.  School let out
at 3:15 P.M., and I usually got home between 3:30 and 3:45.  My mother
worked until 6:30 so she never got home before 7:00.  He knew I was home
alone, and that worried me.

   As I was sitting alone on a bench eating my lunch, a senior sat down
beside me.  I recognized him as one of the most popular guys in the school.
He was his class president, on the tennis and baseball teams, and the head
of the debating team.  "Hi, your name's Lisa, isn't it?  I'm Anthony."

   I was dazed that this beautiful, tall, important person would even
notice me.  He didn't have to tell me who he was.  I said, "Oh, I know who
you are.  You're just about the most important guy in school.  You run
everything."

   He smiled and said, "I've been watching you.  You know, you're very
attractive.  Do you mind if I sit and talk with you?" My head was spinning.
This heavenly senior wanted to talk with me.  I could only nod.  He asked
what school I came from, where I lived, how I liked the classes here.  We
discussed the teachers, some of the students, and ourselves.  He was so
nice, and he was really interested in me.  I couldn't believe this was
happening.  At the end of lunch period he said, "I really enjoyed being
with you today, Lisa.  May I have lunch with you tomorrow?" Again, I
couldn't speak, so I just nodded my head.

   All afternoon and evening I walked on air.  Even though I knew he was
too old to be interested in me, I started having romantic fantasies.  The
next morning my classes crawled.  Although I was a very good student, I
missed some easy questions my teachers asked because I wasn't even
listening.  I couldn't wait for lunch time, but when I got to my bench, no
one was there.  He didn't show up, but I sat and waited.

   Lunch period was nearly over, and I was almost in tears when he came
around the corner.  "Lisa, I'm so sorry.  The debating team teacher had me
in conference, and I couldn't get away.  We promised to have lunch
together, and I broke my promise, so I have to do something to make up for
it.  How about stopping for a sundae or a malt with me after school?"

   I was even more exhilarated than I had been before lunch.  "Oh, that's
OK, and I'd love to have a sundae with you after school."

   "Maybe you should call your parents to let them know you'll be a little
late, where you'll be, and who you'll be with."

   "I don't have to.  My mother doesn't get home until seven o'clock, and
she's the only one I live with." We met after school and walked to a small
coffee shop many of the kids went to.  Because I didn't have anyone to go
with, I had never been there before.  I felt wonderful as we walked in.  A
few of the guys snickered and two of the girls shook their heads, but I
just thought they were envious.  We lingered over our ice cream, talking
about all sorts of things.  He was so interested in me, and he told me all
the things he liked about me; I was deliriously happy.

   As we left, Anthony said, "Gee, it's a little later than I thought. 
Even though it's still light out, the streets are fairly empty.  I think I
should walk you home, if you don't mind." That kind of thoughtfulness and
concern made me feel loved and protected.  I agreed, and we walked and
talked.  He had a wonderful sense of humor and kept me laughing all the way
home.

   When I unlocked the front gate to the apartment building, Anthony said,
"I hate to bother you, but I really need to go to the bathroom.  Could I
use yours for just a minute?" Normally, I'd never let anyone into my home
if my mother wasn't there, but I couldn't refuse Anthony.

   As we climbed the three flights of stairs and got to my front door,
there was a note on it from the apartment manager.  It read, "Dear Mrs. 
Marsten, the switching part of the intercom system between some apartments,
the front gate and my office are all messed up.  I'm replacing the modules
in each apartment as quickly as possible.  Could you call me when you get
home and let me know when it's convenient for you?  It will take only a few
minutes.  Thanks . . ., Jim Jordan, Appt.  Mgr." I took it down and put it
on the dining room table with the mail I had collected on the way up. 
Anthony was standing behind me so I pointed him toward the bathroom.

   A few minutes later he came out and asked, "Don't you have anyone to
stay with you until your mother gets home at seven o'clock?"

   "No.  I'm always all alone until my mother gets home, but that's when I
get my studying done.  Sometimes, if she goes shopping, she doesn't get
home until after eight o'clock."

   Anthony smiled and said, "Then we've got plenty of time to fool around."
He moved toward me, put his arms around me and bent down to kiss me.  I
struggled to get away.  I had only let him in to use the bathroom, and I
certainly didn't want to do this.

   "No, I'm too young.  I don't want to do anything."

   "You're never too young to learn, and I'm just the one to teach you."

   "No.  Anthony, you're scaring me.  Let me go.  You should leave now."

   "Just relax.  You'll love it.  You don't know what you're missing."

   "Anthony, the manager's going to come in soon.  You better leave."

   "No, he's not.  He said he wanted your mother to call and tell him when
to come over.  We're all alone, and we're going to have some fun." He
picked me up effortlessly, carried me into my bedroom, and threw me onto my
bed.  Then he immediately jumped on top of me.  I started to scream, but he
put his hand over my mouth.  "OK.  I'll take my hand off of your mouth if
you promise not to scream.  Then we can talk about it.  Do you agree?" I
shook my head, yes.

   He lifted his hand slowly off my mouth, then suddenly slapped me across
my face as hard as he could.  He hit me so hard, I was dazed.  "That's for
screaming once.  The next time you make a noise, I'll punch you
unconscious. Do you understand?" When I didn't answer, he grabbed my hair,
twisted it so it hurt terribly, and said, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" I was
whimpering as I whispered that I did.  He grabbed both my hands, pulled
them above my head, crossed them at the wrist and held them both with one
hand.  Then he reached down, undid his belt, yanked it out of his pants
then tied my hands together and to the headboard with the belt.  After that
he pulled up my dress and pushed down my panties.  I tried to hold my legs
together, but he just put his knee between my legs and forced down.  There
was no way I could stop him from spreading my legs apart.

   "If you leave now, I won't tell anyone, and you won't get into trouble."

   He laughed and said, "I'm not even here.  There are a dozen guys who'll
swear I was out with them right now.  If you tell anyone what's going to
happen here, you'll be the laughing stock of the school, no one will
believe you, and your reputation will be ruined forever.  Like they say,
'When rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it.' You're going to like this
more than you think you will.  Besides, you know you wanted me to do this
ever since I sat beside you." He reached down with one hand, unzipped his
pants, pushed them down and leaned forward.

   I was terrified as I felt something pressing between my legs at my
vulva. Suddenly, he lunged forward, and I felt as if I had been ripped
apart.  I screamed, and my terror was multiplied by the searing pain as he
tore me open and rammed deep into me.  "Relax.  After I'm through, you'll
want me to do you every day, just like this.  Wow, you're tight.  I love
fucking virgins.  Come on, give me some action.  Move, slut.  You know you
wanted it." I was crying profusely, when the door lock clicked and the
front door was flung open.

   The old apartment manager ran into the bedroom, grabbed Anthony by the
hair and threw him across the room.  Before he could get up, Mr.  Jordan
kicked him in the stomach.  He rolled over on his back, and Mr.  Jordan
ground his heel into Anthony's bloody genitals.  In less than a half
second, Mr.  Jordan pulled a long knife, I later learned it was a filleting
knife, from a holder in his tool apron.  He had it at Anthony's throat. 
"You're dead, you son-of-a-bitch.  Shit like you doesn't deserve to live."
Mr.  Jordan didn't look like Santa Claus, now.  I can't even describe the
fury he had in his face.

   He grabbed Anthony's hair, pulled him to his knees while holding the
knife at his throat and dragged him over to the side of the bed.  He forced
Anthony's face into the down comforter, grabbed one arm, twisted it behind
him, and rested a knee in the boy's back.  When he had Anthony completely
immobilized, he reached over with his knife and sawed through the belt
freeing my hands.  "Lisa, I'm sorry I couldn't get here any faster.  Thank
goodness for the defective intercom.  They won't shut off, so I heard what
was going on in my office on the first floor.  Can you move?" Between
sniffles I said I could.  He reached into a pocket of his work apron, took
out a roll of tape and said "Would you like to wrap this tape around this
asshole's hands?" Anthony started to say something, but Mr.  Jordan jabbed
the knife back against his throat and said, "Not a word, shit-breath. 
Clasp your hands behind your back."

   I said I'd be glad to.  I wrapped about four layers of strong tape
around Anthony's wrists.  Mr.  Jordan said to wrap it between his hands
twice around the tape that was already there.  Then he said, "Now Lisa, do
you think it would help to wrap some more tape around his ankles?" It
sounded like a good idea to me so I did it.  Mr.  Jordan reached down, cut
the tape at the roll and put it away.  "Lisa, do you want to call the
police?  Since I'm a witness and we have him here, you can nail him.  You
get to make the decision."

   "Even if you get me convicted, I have so many friends around school,
you'd never be able to live it down.  You may as well just let me go and
we'll call it even." Anthony grinned.

   "He's right.  I can't turn him in.  I'd suffer even more."

   "That's unfortunate, but I can understand your reasoning, Lisa. 
However, his connections can't affect me.  Since he isn't going to be
punished by the law, he needs to be exposed to a bit of operant
conditioning.  I'm going to change his behavior.  What I'm going to do to
him won't be pleasant.  You may not want to watch, but it's up to you."

   As my terror retreated, it was replaced by anger and vengeance.  I said,
"After what he just did to me, you can't do anything bad enough to him.  I
want to stay and watch."

   "Anthony, you were the attacker and Lisa was the victim.  We're going to
change your role.  I'm going to be the aggressor and you'll be the victim.
I'm still considering whether I'll kill you.  Since we have so much trash
from all the apartments, I can butcher you into little pieces and get rid
of all your body parts in plastic trash bags in about a day.  You'd be in
the dump underneath all the rest of the garbage before anyone would miss
you."

   Mr.  Jordan took out his long thin knife again and put the point into
Anthony's ear.  "Now, we're going to do some things.  If you do anything
wrong, I'll immediately drive the blade into your brain, and that's instant
death.  I suggest that you don't scream or bite me, and you had better do
everything I say, quickly and enthusiastically."

   Mr.  Jordan unzipped his pants with his other hand, took out his penis
and said, "Open your mouth, cock sucker.  Remember, no teeth or zip, you're
dead, and he pressed the knife harder against Anthony's throat.  OPEN YOUR
MOUTH, ASSHOLE."

   "Look, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to hurt her.  I was just having fun. 
Can't you let me go?  People will be looking for me.  Please don't hurt
me."

   "Those arguments are going to work just about as well as Lisa's did with
you a few minutes ago." Anthony looked at me pleadingly, then opened his
mouth.  Mr.  Jordan stuck his penis into Anthony's open mouth as deep as he
could get it.

   "Now start sucking and licking, and don't scratch me with your teeth. 
I'm an old man so you're going to have to do a good job to get me off.  If
you don't, you know what'll happen, right?" With that Mr.  Jordan grabbed
Anthony's hair and yanked it.  Anthony started sucking.  Mr.  Jordan was
pushing deep into Anthony's mouth, and Anthony started to gag.  "If you
throw up on me or make a mess, It'll be the last thing you do in this life.
Now you've got it.  You have a real knack for cock sucking.  I'm doing you
a favor.  You're learning you're really a born cock sucker.  You love
sucking cocks.  See, as you said, 'When rape is inevitable lie back and
enjoy it.' Well, I hope you're enjoying this."

   Tears were streaming down Anthony's face.  In spite of myself, I felt
sorry for him.  Mr.  Jordan never let Anthony forget how close he was to
death with the blade just itching to plunge into his brain.  He kept up a
steady stream of insults mixed with things like telling Anthony he was a
born cock sucker.  Meanwhile he did little things like pinch Anthony's
nostrils shut so he couldn't breathe, while warning him not to stop
sucking. "Yes indeed.  After we get through here, I'm going to take you
back to my apartment and teach you to love getting your ass fucked.  By the
time I'm through with you, you'll be ready and willing to satisfy the whole
football team.  Your life is gone.  It belongs to me.  You're nothing.  I
decide whether you live or die.  Keep sucking and licking.  If I let you
live, I decide what you'll become.  Do you understand that I'm your master
and you're just a piece of shit?" He twisted Anthony's hair until Anthony
shook his head 'yes.'

   Mr.  Jordan started to jerk, and Anthony started to gag.  "Keep sucking.
I didn't tell you to stop.  You love the taste of my semen, don't you?" He
put his hand on Anthony's hair, but he didn't have to twist.  Anthony
immediately shook his head violently, 'yes.'

   "Now, lick me clean.  Get every bit if semen from my cock.  Oh, you do
that so nicely.  See, I knew you'd like it.  Wasn't that a lot of fun?  We
can do it again soon, RIGHT?" Anthony shook his head affirmatively.  "My
cock's not in your mouth.  Give me a verbal answer, cock sucker."

   Anthony was now crying harder than I've ever seen a boy cry.  "Yes, we
can do it again" he whimpered.

   "We can do what again, and when?  Tell me how much you liked it. 
Describe everything you want to do for me.  Be specific and graphic, and
don't forget the blade." Mr.  Jordan was still pressing the sharp point of
it against Anthony's ear.

   "Yes, I can suck your cock again.  I really loved sucking your cock.  I
want to swallow your semen and lick it off your cock," Anthony said through
sobs.

   Mr.  Jordan zipped up his pants, put his knife away and said, "Anthony,
from the efficiency with which you started this afternoon's events, I
assume you've had quite a bit of practice raping young virgins.  You
thought it made you feel powerful, and you didn't care how it made them
feel.  You've just spent a half hour feeling the same kind of things they
felt.  Did I have a right to do that to you?  Did you have a right to do
that to them?  Ask yourself those questions over and over."

   "You're fortunate.  Some guys like you go their whole lives without
understanding the damage they cause.  You're young enough that you can
change.  Everything you heard from me, and every emotion you felt from me,
was what you did to every little girl you raped.  Every feeling of terror
and pain you had was what you inflicted on them.  I have a question for
you. After the evil, cruelty and damage you forced on all those innocent
girls, what justification can I come up with to let you live?  Right now,
you're very close to death.  What can you offer to make me change my mind?
I've got more money than I'll ever need.  I have powerful friends who would
more than avenge anything that happened to me.  Your family would cease to
exist.  You have to come up with something very positive."

   "Please, sir," Anthony said through sobs, "I just never realized what I
was doing.  Oh, God.  That's so horrible, and I've done it to almost twenty
girls.  I'm sorry, Lisa.  I don't know what I was thinking.  I didn't know
how bad it was.  There's nothing I could ever do to make up for what I've
done.  I don't want to die, but maybe I deserve it." His tears dripped off
his face.

   "Lisa may have a suggestion of what you could do to help repair what
you've done.  Can you think of anything, or should I just kill him?" Mr. 
Jordan slipped the knife down to Anthony's throat and scraped the point of
it along the underside of his jaw.  Anthony was shivering violently.

   "He could admit publicly that he's raped a number of girls from the
school, and apologize for it.  He could say it wasn't their fault, and he
wouldn't name them unless they wanted to come forward.  Anthony should be
willing to plead guilty and go to jail if they did.  Probably most of the
girls wouldn't come forward, but it would help them feel less bad about
themselves.  He should say he's going into psychiatric therapy, too."

   "That's too much, Lisa.  Anthony can't do that.  I think it's easier
just to slit his throat.  Even if he promised, he could change his mind
after we let him go."

   "No, I can do that.  I can write a paper confessing and apologizing
right now, and I can even give you a list of the girls.  Please?"

   "How does that sound, Lisa?"

   "That sounds good.  It doesn't get rid of what happened, but at least it
would help us realize we weren't to blame." Mr.  Jordan cut the tape from
his hands but not his ankles, I got a pen and some paper, and Anthony wrote
a complete confession.

   Mr.  Jordan said, "I really think it would be easier for me to cut his
throat, Lisa, but if you don't want me to. . ."

   "As much as I hate Anthony for what he did to me, I don't want him
murdered."

   "She saved your life even after what you did.  Who do you think is the
better person?" He cut the final tape from Anthony's ankles and said, "You
can go now, Anthony."

   Anthony stood up and said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, sir.  Oh
God, Lisa, I'm so sorry for what I put you through.  I know you can never
forgive me, but I'm so sorry."

   He left, and Mr.  Jordan said, "We should get you to the emergency ward
to get you cleaned up.  Then you could probably use some rape counseling."

   I said, "No, I'll take a shower and wash the blood off of my dress.  I
don't want my mother to even know this happened.  She couldn't handle this
right now."

   "Even though he probably didn't have a chance to have an orgasm inside
you, you still have the problems of possible pregnancy or social disease.
If you won't go to the emergency ward, let me at least quickly make up a
douche of warm water, vinegar and a topical biocide.  It'll flush you out
and cut down the risk of pregnancy or infection.  Come over after school
tomorrow and we'll see about getting you some counseling.  It can be done
in the afternoon so your mother won't even know about it." I had everything
cleaned up by the time my mother came home, and she didn't have any idea of
what happened.

   The next day, I stopped by Mr.  Jordan's office.  He said he had called
the Woman's Center.  They understood that my mother wasn't to be contacted,
and they could see me immediately.  He drove me there and waited for me. 
At first, the psychologist tried to get me to admit that Mr.  Jordan had
done it.  She said older rapists sometimes bring in their victims if they
are little girls.  That way, they maintain close control over the victim.
After I described the events of the night, she asked if she could bring Mr.
Jordan in.  When he came into her office, she said, "Lisa has told me an
unbelievable story.  Who do you think you are, Dirty Harry?  We have laws
to handle this type of situation.  What you did was no better than what the
boy did."

   "I agree with you about that.  However, Lisa had just been victimized.
She had all power to decide taken from her.  If I had decided to call the
police, she would have continued to be powerless.  The system would have
told her what to do, and when to do it.  I gave her as many choices as
possible.  I asked for her advice and recommendations, and when she gave
them, I followed them.  She needed to regain her power to control her
environment as quickly as possible.  Since she decided the
eighteen-year-old young man, not 'boy,' wasn't going to be punished by the
system, I had to come up with some way of changing his behavior.  The
quickest thing I could think of was to put him in the role of the victim
and let him feel the terror, pain and humiliation he had put the girls
through."

   "You can call the authorities, but that would probably be totally
destructive.  First, Lisa would be a powerless pawn again.  Second, Anthony
would go to prison and learn how to be a better rapist.  Third, I'd go to
prison.  That's the least important.  I'm sixty and a widower.  It doesn't
make much difference what happens to me."

   I said, "Well, it makes a difference to me.  He saved me.  If you do
that, I'll tell them I came in for birth control counseling, and you went
crazy.  I won't admit anything about the rape, and I know Anthony won't say
anything."

   "What about the confession he wrote?  You can't deny that."

   Mr.  Jordan quickly reached across her desk, grabbed the paper, took a
pad of matches she had with her cigarettes, lit one, and said, "We can
handle that.  Do you want me to burn it?  This is the key to liberation for
about twenty young girls who are carrying around the guilt and pain of a
secret rape."

   "Don't do that, please.  Damn, this certainly isn't according to
procedure, but you leave me no choice.  We'll do it your way."

   Since Mr.  Jordan was driving me to therapy twice a week, we got to know
each other.  He told me to call him "Jim." After about a month, the
psychologist called Jim in and said, "Your approach was quite drastic and
certainly unorthodox, but it seems to have worked.  Lisa is handling her
trauma much better than most rape victims.  We've agreed to cut back to
once a week."

   Meanwhile, Anthony wrote an article saying just about the same as he had
said in the paper he gave us.  The school newspaper refused to publish it.
Then he turned it over to the underground paper.  The school tried to expel
him, and the police tried to charge him, but none of the girls came
forward. I talked to everyone who was still at the school.  We formed our
own support group and had my therapist run it.  We talked about cutting his
balls off and other stuff like that, but we never did anything.

   Anthony was kicked out of all the teams and organizations he belonged
to. Not one girl would go out with him, and no guy would talk with him.  He
changed from the most popular guy at school to the most shunned nonentity
at school.  He had a scholarship to a big university canceled so he ended
up working in a menial job for a year then going to the local junior
college then the local state college.

   Shortly before I turned sixteen, I started twelfth grade.  Jim and I had
become close friends.  He urged me to go out with boys, but the idea
frightened me.  Then he suggested I go out on group dates, and that I
carefully qualify the boys beforehand.  I didn't know how to do that,
because I thought Anthony was acceptable.  Besides, I didn't want to start
anything that could lead to sex.  I knew what that was like, and I didn't
want any part of it.

   The more we talked about it, the more my fears and uncertainty came out.
Since I didn't know how to make love or to have sex, I was afraid I'd get
hurt as I had before.  Jim was patient and honest.  He had a beautiful,
humanistic outlook on people.  Slowly I realized how to handle my fears and
learn about making love.  Jim was extremely gentle and understanding, not
counting what he did to Anthony, and I really loved him.  He never
acknowledged my subtle suggestions when I tried to hint that he should
teach me.  I stopped by the clinic and picked up a prescription for birth
control pills.  Finally, a month later, I explained my feelings, told him I
was protected, and asked him to show me how to make love.

   "Lisa, I love you like a daughter, but a sexual relationship's not
possible because I'm sixty-three and you're barely sixteen.  The kind of
affection we have for each other is very different from the romantic
attraction you should have for someone you'll make love with.  Thank you
for asking.  You've made my day, but you have to find someone your own
age."

   I tried to take his advice, but all the guys around school were macho
dudes, nerds or dweebs.  When I asked what he was like when he was in high
school, he said, "I hate to admit this, but I was probably as bad as many
of those kids you're describing.  It took long years of painful experiences
to knock the stupid ideas out of my head."

   "Then how do you expect me to find someone like you if it only happens
after a lot of experience?" Now I had him.

   "Lisa.  You're right, and I don't know how you'll find him, but just
keep looking.  We're friends, not lovers, and that's how it has to stay." I
didn't give up, but as much as I kept pushing, he kept resisting.

   After a particularly frustrating day at school I stopped by to see Jim.
He had just got out of the shower and was wearing only a towel.  For an old
man, he had a surprisingly good body.  His chest hair was white; was the
hair down there white too, I wondered?  Jim quickly excused himself after
he let me in and changed into pants and a shirt.  He ignored it when I
asked that question.

   "How was your day at school?" he asked.  I started telling him my
problems, and I began to cry because everything had gone wrong that day. 
He put his arm around me to comfort me as I leaned on his shoulder.  I
twisted toward him, embraced him and kissed him full on the mouth.  This
was my last chance.  If this didn't work, I didn't know what I'd do.  Jim
tried to pull away, but I was clinging to him while I kissed him and tears
ran down my cheeks.  He held me as I continued kissing his mouth and his
face more and more passionately.  I really loved him.  Why wouldn't he
respond?

   "Damn it.  You wonderful, beautiful child.  Don't you understand that
I've wanted to make love to you for the last year?  I love you, not just
your lovely body, but for the way you think so clearly, your tough-minded
determination, your cute sense of humor, your innocent smile that makes my
old heart skip more than one beat.  But, I'm afraid what I want isn't
what's good for you.  You've already had a bad introduction to sex.  I
can't risk adding to that damage."

   "You're right that I got a horrible first experience.  If I'd had the
normal growth into sexuality, it would be easy to have some mildly negative
relationships with guys my own age.  But, I didn't follow the normal
pattern.  A negative experience would just reinforce what happened before.
I need someone who's warm, loving, gentle, experienced, and slow.  You're
warm, loving, gentle and experienced, and you keep reminding me how old you
are so you must be slow," I said.

   He laughed and slapped me on my rear end.  "Did I teach you to be a wise
ass?"

   I flung my arms around him again and kept kissing him.  Now, he started
to kiss me back, but he was kissing me softly and tenderly.  First, my eyes
then the lightest brushes across my cheeks, a little peck on the end of my
nose, then he kissed my lips.  It was hard to believe a touch that soft and
gentle could send electricity through my whole body.  I lost all strength
in my arms and legs and just sank back onto the couch.  He kissed me and
whispered his love for me for over a half hour.  Mentally I pleaded with
him to unbutton my blouse.  I had already unbuttoned his shirt, and I was
about to unbutton mine.

   He reached down, undid my front and helped me take my shirt off as I
pulled my blouse out of my skirt.  He kissed my neck, my shoulders and my
arms all the way to my fingers, but he didn't even start to take off my
bra. I loved kissing him and telling him how much he meant to me.  Jim
wasn't old, he was beautiful, and I loved him.  With a little pop, he had
my bra undone.  As I slipped it off, he moved to my breasts.  They were
still small, but at least there was a little there now.  His lips and
tongue hardly touched my nipples as they brushed over them.

   Now I began to get frightened because I was losing control.  My whole
body was trembling.  Jim made me feel secure and loved and wonderful, but
something was happening beyond what I expected.  I was aware of my nipples
tingling.  He moved down my chest and kissed and loved my stomach.  Then he
stood up, took my hand and led me into the bedroom.  As we stood by the
side of the bed and embraced, I felt his warm chest pressing against my
breasts.  My face nestled in his thin layer of white fur, since I was much
taller now.  I felt him sliding my skirt down, but he didn't take my
panties off.  We slipped our shoes off then lay on the bed.

   "Oh, Lisa, my love, you can't imagine how much I've wanted to love you
like this.  You made me dizzy just by walking into the room.  I've wanted
you so much, because you're so beautiful both in mind and your lovely
body." He kissed and stroked my legs.  Finally, when I thought I couldn't
take anymore, he stood up, unbuckled his pants and slid them off.  Then he
gently hooked his fingers on each side of my panties, so I raised my behind
and he slid them off.

   Jim lay down beside me, pulled me toward him and we held each other
while we kissed and caressed.  There was no way I could wait anymore, so I
rolled onto my back and pulled him over me.  My legs spread by themselves
and he positioned himself between them.  I flashed back to three years ago,
and tensed.  Jim sensed this and said, "Don't worry, Lisa.  This is all
we're going to do today.  We're making love and pleasing each other.  We
won't be having sex until sometime in the future when you're ready and when
you decide." I was relieved and disappointed.

   He kissed and stroked every part of my body but my genital area.  After
quite a while he moved up, and we slowly went from all caressing to softly
talking to each other.  Without saying anything about it, we finally got up
and got dressed.  We talked for a few minutes in the living room, I stood
by the door, he kissed me softly and I went home.  This was nothing like
what I expected.  It was what I'd fantasied, but not what I expected.  I
could hardly think, but I couldn't think of anything else.  How wonderful
it would be if I could wake up tomorrow morning and Jim would be forty
years younger, but I didn't care how old he was.  I loved him more than
anything else in the world.

   Each day I couldn't wait for school to end so I could go to Jim.  We
made love daily, but we didn't have sex.  This continued for about two
weeks, and by then I had to keep going.  He slowly moved down my body,
kissing and caressing as he went.  I was breathing faster and trembling. 
My body was reacting to Jim's expert stimulation.  My nipples were hard and
thrust forward into Jim's mouth to receive all the pleasure he was
offering. As his lips and tongue moved down across my stomach, I felt a
distinct sense of loss.  I needed him to continue sucking and licking my
breasts.  He reached my navel and tickled it.  Then he moved down across my
abdomen and slowly approached the point where it ended and my legs began.
He lay between my legs as he moved down my body.  As he kissed the front of
my leg just below my hip joint, I suddenly spread wider, shifted left and
thrust my hips up.  His mouth was pressing against my vulva, or more
properly, I pressed my vulva tightly against his mouth.  His tongue slid
between the lips and caressed me along the inner surfaces.

   Jim found my almost virgin clitoris and began to stroke it softly with
his tongue.  I shivered involuntarily.  My hips raised and pushed against
his mouth.  His tongue was sliding between my plump little labia and
tickling from my vagina to my clitoris and back again.  As I spread my legs
wider, pushed against him harder and faster, and began to moan, he
increased the pressure and speed of his tongue and lips.  I rotated my hips
forward, and pressed hard against him.  While I was feeling better and
better, I wasn't prepared for what came next.  With almost no warning my
vagina started to spasm, my whole body was jerking, my eyes went out of
focus, and I completely lost control of my motions.  As wildly as I
thrashed around, Jim hung on, his mouth clamped to my vulva like a rodeo
rider to a bronco.

   After a few minutes of unbelievable joy, I started to relax.  Jim,
however, knew that I could move back into that pleasure and continue my
orgasm for much longer.  He continued to stroke my clitoris with his tongue
and suck it between his lips and into his mouth.  I started up the orgasmic
path again, shuddering and yelping as I went.  This time I lay there
absorbing the joy his mouth poured into me.  My hips were rotating forward
and back as fast as I could move them.  My breath was coming in fast short
gasps.  The ceiling appeared to be bright green flashes against a dark
background.  Finally, I went completely limp and probably passed out for a
few moments.  The next thing I was aware of was Jim gently petting the
outside of my labia with his tongue.

   Jim moved up, took me in his arms and kissed me softly.  We talked and
petted each other for about an hour.  I told him how wonderful he had made
me feel, and how much I loved him.  When I suggested that we try regular
sex, he said, "Let's wait awhile, besides, you do have a test to study
for." We got dressed and I went to my apartment.  For a few days we
continued to make love and Jim stimulated and satisfied me orally.  The
more he did, the more I wanted him inside me.

   End of Part 1.  To be continued.

   ===

   This fictional story is (c) Copyright 1996 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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