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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Love's Distant Shore Ch.1 by Rachael Ross (M/F, Rom, D/s, Teen, First, Preg themes)
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Ten Thousand Words by rache
Copyright 2007 Rebecca Stancil All rights reserved. Intended for
adults only.
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/high_school_sweetheart/www/index.htm
h.s.sweetheart@gmail.com
M/F, Rom, D/s, Teen, First, Preg themes

Author's note: This is very much my favorite fantasy expressed through
a character who is only slightly more consumed by her desires than I
am. I'm not in the habit of condemning anyone for their fetishes, nor
do I feel apologetic for my own. They are what they are and we don't
often have a clear understanding of where they spring out of, or even
a definition of exactly what our interests are. This is just my most
recent attempt out of many to express myself. 

-======{8}======-


Love's Distant Shore
by High School Sweetheart

Chapter One


"What do you think about?" I asked my husband softly.

We were lying in bed, him on his back and me on my side. I had my left
leg over his thigh and my left hand on his chest. Our bodies were
cooling, damp and sticky, and I could feel him inside my sex. He'd
filled me with his sperm once again and it was the best feeling in the
world for me. It made me complete, the afterwards, even more than when
his cock was reaching for my womb. It was the remains of our
lovemaking that I liked most.

"Hmmm?" He was sleepy, the way men are after sex.

"I was reading a magazine." I shrugged, knowing it was silliness on my
part. "About how men fantasize during sex."

"Oh." He smiled. "Cosmo again?"

"It was all they had." I giggled, snuggling closer as he shifted a
little, getting comfortable. My husband is a large man and I'm so
small, we fit together well.

"Hairdresser?"

"I didn't get my hair done." I mocked a pout, but he was only teasing
me. 

He knew I'd been to see my gynecologist, getting only enough good news
to keep me from crying. I wasn't completely infertile, just mostly,
even with the pills and diet and the timing and...

"Yeah, I know." He turned his face so he could kiss my blonde hair.

"So, what do you think about when we do it?" I persisted.

"Uhhh..." He cleared his throat and I waited. "The Yankees, mostly...You
know...Baseball."

"Liar!" I laughed.

"No, seriously, they're having a rough year..." Kurt loved to tease me
and I loved his sense of humor, usually.

"Come on, please?" I sighed. "I really want to know."

"Why?" He almost laughed, pleased with my curiosity, and I moved my
hand down to feel his cock, soft now, and sticky against his skin.

"I won't be mad." I promised.

"Ah..." He did laugh then. 

"I'll tell you what I think about." I offered, massaging his penis
gently, just stroking it with my long red fingernails really.

"I know what you think about, Kris." His left arm, the one I was
laying on, was behind me and I could feel his fingers on my back.

"Yeah." I shrugged. I'd already told him that all I ever imagined was
his sperm finding one of my precious eggs and giving us a baby.

"What did the doctor say?" He asked and we hadn't brought it up, but
now was as good a time as any, so I told him.

"...One chance in a hundred." I finished half a minute later, because
there really was very little to say.

"Okay." He nodded and we were quiet for a little bit.

We'd looked into artificial insemination, but the problem, my problem,
wasn't with my fallopian tubes. Kurt's sperm was reaching my ovum, it
was just that my eggs weren't receptive, to use my doctor's phrase.
Even fertilizing my egg outside the body, in a test tube, so to speak,
had a very small chance of success. Too small for the expense, which
was considerable, but we were saving for it anyway. Some people saved
for vacations, or houses, or cars...Kurt and I were saving for a chance
at making a baby. One in ten was better than one in a hundred, wasn't
it? It felt like a sure thing to me sometimes, but mostly I was just
sad.

"You have to cheer me up now." I finally said.

"Sure." Kurt gave me a squeeze and his cock was semi-hard under my
fingers. 

We were barely twenty-three, our birthdays just a few days apart,
which I'd taken as a good omen on our first date, and still newlyweds
by the standards of our friends, just approaching our second
anniversary. Out of college finally and both of us working good jobs,
it should have been perfect, and it almost was.

"So come on, tell me what you really think about." I was stroking him
now, because Kurt was hard for me again. His cock was long and thick
and hot, I liked his maleness.

"Ohhh...How about if I sing for you?" He suggested playfully and I
frowned.

"Kurt, come on. I told you I won't be mad, I know you think about
something besides me." I reached lower to feel his balls. 

There was nothing wrong down there; he'd been checked and his sperm
was vigorous, which is another one of those funny technical terms.
Vigorous, healthy sperm, that's what my husband had. When I remembered
the two years I'd taken birth control pills while we'd dated, it
almost made me laugh at the irony of it. I was a birth control pill,
all by myself just laying there.

"Well, maybe you'll laugh." Kurt was turning on his left side to face
me. "My dad warned me about talking to girls about stuff like this."

"He did?" I smiled and wondered if I'd believe him. The bedside lights
were on and his brown eyes were warm. He liked to look at me when we
had sex and I didn't mind.

"Oh yeah." Kurt leaned close for a kiss and his lips were dry on mine,
soft and smooth. I let his tongue tease mine for a moment.

"Do you think about some thing?" I licked my lips. "Or some one?"

"Uhhh...Yes." Kurt grinned and his right hand was down on my hip,
stroking my skin and moving slowly towards my ass.

"Oh, I don't like this." I sighed.

"I think of you mostly." He told me seriously and Kurt was pulling my
body even closer than we already were. 

I pressed his cock down, between my spread legs so that the shaft
would ride across my sex, already wet with our earlier orgasms. My
distended labia were split along the length of him and it felt nice
like that, no penetration, just my pussy riding his cock as we barely
moved together. I had my leg over him and his hand was on my small
round ass, his fingers in the crease of my buttocks, moving down to
press against my anus. I liked that a lot, having my ass played with
and even anal sex, sometimes, was very good for me despite Kurt's
size. I liked a little pain; being the submissive woman to my dominant
man.

"But not always." I smiled and my mouth was close to his chest,
because I am so much smaller than him.

"You're not going to let it go, are you?" His cock was dripping now,
leaking precum and I could feel it against my flushed skin.

"I'm stubborn." I kissed his right nipple, the pierced one. My left
nipple was pierced and we had matching gold rings. It was a college
thing and we'd called them our wedding rings, until we'd gotten real
ones.

"Like a mule." He sighed.

"I'll tell you something bad." I said a minute later, while Kurt was
kissing my ear and making me shiver.

"What?" He whispered.

"Sometimes..." I reached down because it was time; I needed him inside
me again. "Uh...Mmmm..." I rolled my hips a little, feeding the head of
Kurt's large cock into my ready pussy. "...Okay..." I nodded and Kurt gave
me a little push, sinking inside me slowly.

"Yeah..." He held my ass tight and his hand was big, covering my butt. I
loved him because he was big and strong and so much else besides, but
especially that; my protector, my man.

"Sometimes I think about you with someone else." I told him, letting
him see as deep into my blue eyes as he wanted to.

"Someone else?" He blinked at that, moving his hips slowly.

"Yeah." I was confessing, just because he wouldn't. 

"You mean when we have sex, you think, what...You're someone else?" He
was smiling, trying to understand, or possibly teasing me.

"No." I giggled, and we were moving slowly so I could feel his cock
inside my well stretched cunt, moving just a few inches back and
forth, in and out. He was working that old sperm out of me, finding
the wetness with his fingers, bringing it to my ass and moistening my
anus with it.

"Well, what then?" He was curious now, finally.

"I think about you with another woman." I said. "Having sex, like
this."

"Okay." He shrugged with his eyebrows. "What are you doing while..."

"I don't know." I laughed and wriggled my ass against his finger,
feeling my pussy full and enjoying it. "Nothing, it doesn't matter."

"Huh." He pushed against my asshole with a gentle, constant pressure
making me moan softly as his middle finger penetrated my tight
sphincter.

"Don't you want to know who?" I asked, a little breathlessly as my
tight butt opened reluctantly.

"Well, of course." He chuckled. "I just don't want to seem eager."

"Ummm...." I closed my eyes for a moment. "That feels good."

"Does it?" Kurt kissed me and I couldn't answer. He knew I loved the
sensation of my husband fingering my ass while we fucked. Something
about it just felt really good for me.

"Tina." I said after we broke our kiss, even before I took the breath
of cool air I needed.

"What?" Kurt swallowed and he was a little red faced from our kiss
which had been long and deep.

"I think about you having sex with Tina." I laughed and I blushed, but
he couldn't tell because I was already so warm all over.

"The girl across the hall, Tina?" Kurt was acting very surprised and I
wondered who he thought I'd been thinking of.

"Yeah." I nodded and then I felt self-conscious. "I mean, I know she's
young and everything, but...I don't know...I just..." 

I didn't know why I thought of that, of her. Tina was just thirteen,
barely thirteen by less than a month, and our neighbor in the
apartment building we lived in. She was exotic and dark, with long
black hair and deep blue eyes, unlike mine which were more grey, hers
were like a bright summer sky. Tall and lithe for her age, Tina was
already pretty and in a few more years she'd be truly beautiful.

"She's not just young, Kris." My husband narrowed his eyes. "She's a
kid."

"I know." I bit my bottom lip, which was always a sure sign of guilt.
"I told you it was bad."

Kurt had stopped moving, his cock lodged deep inside me. He was big
all around, physically, intellectually, even spiritually, I thought.
It had been so easy to fall in love with the man. We'd talked about so
many things, everything it seemed, but this was new; my confession
that I was a pedophile in some strange way. How else could I explain
this desire to see my husband making love to a child of thirteen? Kurt
wouldn't understand this, and how could he when I didn't understand it
myself?

"Are you angry?" I whispered, afraid to move against him. Kurt's penis
was still hard, still inside me, and he held me tight, but that was
all.

"No." He replied reassuring me and it spurred him to give his cock a
short hard thrust. "I just...Why her?"

"I don't know." I answered truthfully. "I haven't thought about it,
you know, like tried to understand it."

"I think I need to understand." Kurt said. "You can tell me."

"Okay." I swallowed hard and kissed his neck. Kurt wasn't going to
push me away, he just wanted to know.

"Why Tina?" He repeated and then added, "Is it just Tina, I mean..."

"Yeah." I nodded, rolling my hips slightly to work that cock around
inside me. "I don't know many other girls her age, so maybe..."

"So maybe if you did..."

"It's her age, yeah." I decided. "She's never been touched. Not kissed
or been in love...Real love with a man..."

"Then why not um, Shelly..." My husband asked.

"Shannon." I corrected him, meaning the nine year old down the hall.

"Right, Shannon. Why not her?"

"She's too young." I shivered as Kurt brought his fingers back to my
ass, playing with me there while I worked my sex on his cock slowly.

"Too young." My husband chuckled. "That's good."

"She's not, uh..." I sighed, trying to think. "...She's not fertile."

"You want me to make Tina pregnant?" He tilted his head down to stare
into my eyes.

"Yeah that's part of it." I agreed quickly. "That's most of it."

"What else?"

"What else?" I asked myself. "Um, her size, I mean she's like me, even
a little smaller than me. I like that. And innocent, yeah...I want to
see her the first time."

"Losing her virginity..."

"Becoming a woman." I nodded, moving more eagerly now as I was
understanding more. "Pregnant and fucked and changed forever."

"Fucked?" Kurt chuckled because I so rarely swore, even during sex.

"And I want to watch and be watched." I was talking quickly, before I
lost it like a good dream. "I want you both to see me..."

"See you..."

"...Helpless." I kissed his chest. "I want you to love her and make a
baby in her while I watch helplessly."

"Why?" My husband pushed his thick finger into my ass hard, making me
wince with delight.

"Because I'm...Worthless." I gasped, cumming suddenly with an unexpected
rush of pleasure in my husband's arms.

==============-

"Kris..."

"Hey, morning sleepyhead." I smiled at my husband's entrance, standing
near the microwave and waiting for our bagels to get warm.

"Good morning." He moved behind me, smelling fresh and damp from his
shower. 

He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss through the turmoil
of my golden hair. He was dressed for work already and so was I, in a
manner of speaking, although the only thing I was wearing was my
bathrobe. I made a soft purring sound as he squeezed me nice.

"Your coffee's there on the table already." I told him, and this was
very much our morning routine.

"Mmmm...Thank you." He kissed me again and let me go.

A few minutes later I was sitting with him, eating our bagels and
drinking our coffee. Kurt was looking through the previous evening's
newspaper, but just to check the box scores real quick. Once baseball
season was over he wouldn't even do that much; neither of us were very
much interested in the world at large.

"Are we going out tonight?" I asked, because it was Friday and we
usually did, if only for dinner, but often for more than that.

"Do you want to?" Kurt put his paper down with a soft rustle and
picked up his coffee. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know." I took a deep breath and stretched a little. "Let's go
dancing."

"Sure." He smiled at that and there was something on his mind, I could
see it in his eyes; he wanted to say something.

"What?" I tore off a bit of bagel and put it slowly in my mouth.

"Last night, what you said..."

"Oh." I felt my face growing warm. "That was..."

"...You're not worthless, Kris."

"I know." I nodded. "Let's, uh....It's too bright for that, okay?"

Kurt looked at me for a moment and I felt very self-conscious about
it. The morning sun was streaming through the kitchen windows and my
memory of the night before was something like a confessional, dark and
remote and secret.

"Yeah." My husband finally nodded and then frowned and looked at his
watch. "I better go."

"Okay." I agreed, even though it was a little early for that. He
kissed me as I sat there and then he was gone.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I sat in my studio, but I was hardly in a mood for work. I did
illustrations for publishers, books mostly, but magazines as well,
some freelance stuff here and there. I had a nice contract with
Harlequin, working on commission, doing covers for the romance books
that they churned out by the dozens every month. I'd lucked into the
job through a friend and it paid well enough. Sitting in a room
surrounded by paintings of beautiful couples embracing in their tragic
love was a real chore though. That and the mind-numbing repetition
that I hadn't fully appreciated before; this wasn't a job anyone spent
a lifetime doing, I was sure.

I looked at my easel and frowned. I'd paint later and it was almost
finished anyway, something called 'Love's Distant Shore' which meant
very little to me. That's all I had to work with usually, the title
and maybe a paragraph to summarize the main characters general
appearance and a setting. This one was on a beach, of course. A
striking man and his fey woman, holding each other against an
approaching tempest. It was overdramatic and lurid with promise, the
way millions of women liked it. I was good at that sort of thing
though; I even got fan mail.

"Margie." The voice on my phone said, sounding old and distracted,
both of which she was.

"Hey Marge, it's Kris." I rubbed my forehead, not sure why I was doing
this. "I need a favor."

"Hey honey, what do you need?" She asked, setting her distractions
aside now.

Marge ran a modeling agency and over the last six months I'd become a
very good customer. Good enough that I could skip the secretaries and
managers and go straight to the top. I didn't do it very often,
usually going through the same process everyone else did, browsing the
online portfolios and making an appointment, usually two models for a
full day, or sometimes two days, but I tended to work quickly anyway.

"I'm in a bit of a rush." I said. "I need a girl, um...Young, real
young."

"Uh-huh, today you mean?"

"Yeah, like five minutes ago." I laughed softly. "Sorry. It kind of
snuck up on me."

"That happens." The woman laughed too. "Uh...What do you need? Young
might be tough on short notice."

"That's why I called you, Margie."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I didn't know what I was doing, or why, but I had my suspicions and I
closeted them away, unwilling to consider them. I was doing what I
needed to and that was enough. I showered and dressed quickly, not
knowing how much time I'd have. There was nothing special about it,
only the good manners I'd been brought up with. I pulled on an old
pair of jeans, spattered and stained with years of paint, and a t-
shirt. Brushed my hair and tied it back with a rubber-band, and I
waited.

"Hello." I smiled, opening the door at half past ten to find the girl
Margie had sent over. "Come on in."

"Hi." She was beautiful and all of fifteen probably, which was a
little older than I'd wanted. "I'm Amy...This is my mom."

"Hi, I'm Kris." I stood aside for them and it wasn't the first time
I'd used a child model, but the need was rare. 

Mom was there to make sure I really was who Margie said I was. She had
the paperwork, the contract which I filled in and signed, mother and
daughter too. It was a very real business and all legitimate, and I
was paying a premium for taking Amy out of school so she could sit
around in my apartment all day. Mom didn't stay very long; she was
satisfied and I'd come with the highest endorsement from the agency.
She was going to get her hair done, or do some shopping, or meet up
with a friend for lunch. I didn't concern myself overly much with her.

"Do you want something to drink before we start?" I asked the girl.
"Do you need the bathroom or anything?"

"No, I'm okay." Amy was looking around the apartment and I was looking
at her, dressed in what had to be a school uniform.

"How old are you?" I asked. Her contract had said fourteen, but I
wanted to hear her say it.

"Almost fifteen." Amy said over her shoulder. "Are you married?"

She was looking at the large wedding portrait framed on the bookcase
and I nodded.

"Yeah, that's my husband, Kurt." I said. "Come on, we'll go back this
way."

"He's cute." Amy said and followed me to the studio.

"Yeah, he is." I smiled and I went to the glass doors that opened onto
our small balcony. 

I cleared an empty space, as my studio was a rather cluttered place at
best. I had some cartons there with supplies and another with studies
and unfinished works filed haphazardly. I shoved all that aside and
opened the doors wide. It was early autumn in New York and the air was
warm, but the breeze felt pleasantly cool as it entered the room.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" I asked, just making small talk while Amy
waited.

"Have you seen my mom?" The girl giggled. "She'd have a heart attack
if I even talked to a boy."

"Yeah, moms are like that." I smiled at her. "I need you to undress,
okay? Leave your bra on and your panties too, that's fine, and stand
over here..."

"I'm not wearing a bra." Amy shrugged. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's okay." I nodded, going to my work table and finding my
camera, an old Polaroid. 

Amy was just a little shorter than me, and I was hardly tall in any
case, just a little over five feet. Her long hair was brown, but once
she was in the direct sunlight I could see some red in it, a little
auburn that seemed very pretty. It was wavy, curling at the ends, and
the girl wore her hair loose, which suited me just fine. Amy's
presence was generous for her age and the girl wasn't shy at all, with
her body or her hazel eyes. She undressed quickly and I'd had plenty
of experience with models who were much more picky when it came to
undressing, wanting a screen and a robe and all of that. I used the
adjoining room, which was going to be our nursery someday, maybe, for
a dressing room when models demanded it. I was happy that Amy was so
relaxed.

Her skin was tanned all over as she stripped down to just her plain
white panties for me. Amy's breasts were small and puffy with large
pink nipples; her waist was soft and narrow with some baby-fat on her
hips and tummy, giving her belly a pleasant and only slightly plump
appearance above the waistband of her underwear. Her thighs came
together in the middle and then separated just beneath the tight
crotch of her panties and I could make out the suggested form of the
girl's sex hidden there. She was smooth and blemish free and with her
fresh, heart-shaped face, I thought she was very beautiful. 

"Do you think anyone can see me?" Amy was looking past the balcony, at
the apartments and offices across the street.

"Oh, I don't think so." I said, not knowing for sure. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so." She nodded.

"You won't have to stand there long." I promised her. "I just need
some photos in the sunlight and then we can move you inside a little
more."

"Okay." Amy agreed, but she didn't seem all that worried about it
anyway. I got the impression she might have enjoyed seeing a man
looking at her from one of the distant balconies.

I took two dozen pictures with the sun behind me, posing the girl in
variations of the general image I had in mind. Amy's legs were
slightly spread, her pelvis out and shoulders back, chin down only
slightly with her eyes open and up. Her left arm across her stomach,
just beneath her breasts, and the right arm close to her side, with
her hand up, fingertips touching her right shoulder. Amy's stance was
defiant, and she was offering herself plainly, but she was shy and
self-protective as well. There was a conflict within that structure, a
woman struggling to emerge, seeking to escape the bonds of childhood.
That was what I wanted and Amy was giving it to me.

"Okay, turn around...Remember that pose...Turn..." 

I took several pictures from behind, with that same arrangement, but
adjusting Amy's head so that she could look over her left shoulder at
me. I adjusted her panties, pulling the left side down slightly and
tugging the thin cotton back into the soft valley of her firm round
ass. Just a little of that left side, enough so the imperfection would
lend motion to the eye. She had very little baby-fat there and Amy
didn't need it; her fourteen year old butt was wonderfully round and
pert. I finished the film, setting the photos in a long line across my
bench while I went for some juice. 

"What kind of painting are you doing?" Amy asked me as I returned a
few minutes later. 

She was looking at her pictures. They were just snapshots and I'd
never claimed to be a photographer, but the girl was very photogenic.
We looked at her pictures together, drinking orange juice, and I was
only a little surprised by how excited I was inside. I'd been feeling
it since I'd first decided to call Margie and every moment I spent
with Amy only made me more restless. She was beautiful, this girl, and
I wanted her. Not sexually, not for myself, but to see her with a man,
with my husband...That was the idea, the thought in my head and deeper,
in my heart. It was undeniable and I felt guilt gnawing at my soul.

"I'm doing a cover for a reprint of a book. Lolita." I lied. "Have you
read that?"

"Lolita?" Amy shook her head and smiled. "What's it about?"

"Um, well, it's complicated." I laughed and my heart was beating
quickly. "It's about a girl, your age, I guess, and she has a
relationship with an older man."

"Like her dad?" Amy finished her juice and I took her glass, setting
it aside with mine.

"No, not her dad." I shook my head. "Here, you can pose right here
now. I'm going to do some sketches for awhile and then we'll have
lunch, okay?"

"Sure."

"Do you like music?" I asked.

"Yeah." She smiled. "Do you have Fob?"

"Fall Out Boy?" I laughed. "No, but I got some Moby. Do you like him?"

"Whatever." She shrugged and I hit play on my stereo and Extreme Ways
filled the room.

Amy let me correct her pose and I rolled my big leather chair over,
just sitting in it and doing pencil sketches across my knees. We were
quiet for a long time, half an hour or forty minutes at least, and it
was pleasant. I was able to focus more on the art and push my other
thoughts away, but not completely. I would draw the girl, her
shoulders and breasts, or her tummy and hips, and imagine my husband's
hands there, touching her. He was caressing Amy, kissing her neck and
whispering in her ear while I drew them, and it made me quiver way
down deep between my thighs.

"So, what are you doing with all the money you make from modeling?" I
asked the girl; she looked a little bored and I was trying to distract
myself.

"My mom makes me save it for college." Amy sighed. "She gives me an
allowance."

"That's not a bad idea." I smiled at her. "I went to college, it was
pretty fun."

"I guess." Amy didn't sound so sure. "I want to be a real model
though, or an actress."

"This isn't real modeling?" I teased her, but at seventy-five dollars
an hour I had a valid point.

"You know what I mean." She giggled and it made her almost unbearably
cute.

"Yeah." I nodded. "Lots of boys at college though. I met my husband
there."

"Really? My mom will make me go to an all girls one probably." She
frowned. "That's what my school is now."

"Nah." I shook my head, working fast to catch that giggle on my pad
before it faded from my mind's eye. "She just wants to let you grow up
a little more, I think."

"I'm pretty grown up already." Amy said. "She just treats me like a
little kid."

"Mom's do that."

"Like bringing me here; she's like my babysitter." Amy was letting it
all out. "Like she doesn't trust me, you know?"

"Well, I think she just wanted to meet me." I said. "There's a lot of
weird people in the world."

"She just cares about money." Amy frowned. "Ever since the divorce. I
make more money than my dad does anyway."

"Your parents are divorced?" I gave her a sympathetic frown of my own.

"Last year." Amy shrugged. "My dad's still around. I see him every
Sunday."

"Well, that's good then." 

"Yeah." Amy shrugged. "I guess. How did you meet your husband? Was he
in one of your classes or something?"

"Something like that." I laughed. "He was a model, actually, for one
of my art classes."

"Oh yeah? He's a model?" Amy's hazel eyes got a little bigger at
that. 

"Not anymore." I shook my head. "He's a draftsman, like an architect,
but he used to model in college."

"How come he stopped?" Amy wondered.

"Well, he just needed a little extra money." I shrugged. "He never
really wanted to do anything but design buildings and stuff."

"Oh." Amy looked a little disappointed at that news and I smiled. 

"Let's take a break, okay?" I stretched a little. "Do you want to see
what Kurt looked like? I have some old paintings..."

"Sure, yeah." Amy was stretching too, but not complaining. Her pose
was an easy one and I hadn't been strict at all when she'd happened to
move.

"Okay, ummmm..." I had a number of big leather portfolios, most of them
bought second hand and well used. I reached for one and then changed
my mind, pawing through them to grab another.

"You must have a lot of pictures." Amy had taken my chair and she spun
in it lazily.

"Yeah." I laughed. "I've been drawing and painting everyday since I
was about four years old. Here we go...No, stay there, you're okay."

I sat on the floor near Amy's feet, smiling up at her briefly as I
unlatched the old brown leather straps. Her feet were so close to me,
her little pink toes painted baby blue, and she smelled like bubble
bath, I thought, though I hadn't noticed it before. Amy's legs were
slightly spread, the chair creaking softly as she pushed with her
feet, turning it a few degrees one way and then back, her small
breasts rising and falling with every breath. I was sitting at her
feet, like a servant it suddenly seemed and I swallowed hard at the
thought. 

"Uh, okay..." I could barely breathe and I knew what I was doing,
although not exactly why, and it was wrong.

I flipped open the portfolio and there on the very top was a
watercolor I'd done of Kurt. It wasn't from my art class, it was from
the bedroom we'd shared during our third year at college, our first
apartment together, and he was on the bed, naked and beautiful and
sleeping after our sex. I remembered that night so well and I'd been
tired, but so much in love that sleep was impossible. That's what the
picture was about, not a man sleeping, but a woman who loves him. I
thought of it as my first, best self-portrait and showing it to Amy
was as close as I'd come to confessing my dark desires.

She took a second before gasping, the girl's eyes going big as Amy
stared at the full nude of my husband. His muscular body on display,
one arm over his chest, his left leg askew beneath a white sheet, and
his flaccid penis, ruddy and recently used, was laying across his
pelvis to the right. 

"Oh, God..." I closed the portfolio quickly. "...Amy, I'm sorry. I grabbed
the wrong one."

"Uh, that's okay." She said softly and her face was crimson.

"These are my, um..." I cleared my throat. "...The ones I did after class,
you know."

I started to close the straps, hoping Amy hadn't seen through my
little charade, but I think she barely noticed anything except the
image imprinted onto her fourteen year old brain.

"Do you have to put it away?" Amy asked me suddenly, lifting her eyes
to my face. "It's...I mean it's just art, right? Can I, um..."

"What?" I blinked at her. "You want to see them?"

"Yeah." She was still blushing and even her breasts had taken some
color I thought, looking a bit more puffy possibly.

"I don't know, Amy, they're kind of private." I gave the girl an
apologetic look.

"Please?" She was holding her breath and my tummy was doing flip-
flops. "I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about."

"Oh, I know." I said. "It's just art, but...Okay, yeah." I nodded
finally and Amy let her breath out with a smile. "I guess we can look,
but..."

"But what?" She asked quickly.

"But don't laugh, okay?" I smiled. "Nobody has ever seen these
before."

"I won't." Amy promised. "The first one was really good."

"This one?" I asked her, opening the portfolio again and Amy nodded.

"It's beautiful. It looks so real." She nodded, leaning over now with
her arms across her knees and half a minute later she was sitting on
the floor next to me, the chair shoved aside as we looked through the
portfolio slowly.

They were all nude studies, some from the front, some from behind or
in profile. They were watercolors mostly, a few oils, some tempera
work here and there. They were a year out of our life and Kurt was so
beautiful it hurt to look at him. It was my best work, as collection,
and I hadn't been lying when I told Amy that nobody had seen it. Not
like this. Kurt had seen all of the paintings, but only one at a time,
spread out over the months as I'd done them. It was meant to be viewed
as a whole, one collected body of work and the effect on Amy was
acute.

She was staring at a painting I'd done of Kurt with an erection,
leaning against the tiled wall of our old shower. He was looking down
with his hands behind his back; eyes closed with water streaming from
his hair and face. It was a blue, moody piece and originally I'd
thought of it as a baptismal, but more recently it seemed to me that
I'd caught my husband weeping, alone as a strong man must. He looked
like an angel; my guardian angel, crying for me.

"Is that what it's like? His, uh..." The girl's voice was a whisper and
it took me a moment to realize she'd spoken.

"His penis?" I looked at Amy and she nodded.

"Is it really big?" She asked me with a nervous giggle.

"Yeah, it's pretty big." I laughed, pushing my other thoughts away. "I
didn't need to make it bigger."

"Oh, I didn't mean like you..."

"I know." I smiled at her. "It's okay; yeah he's a big man, so..."

"Yeah." Amy sighed. "He's the most handsome man I ever saw."

"Oh, well, I don't know about that." I turned to the next picture, an
oil of my husband laying nude on his stomach.

"I do." Amy decided, staring at Kurt's pale ass, hard beneath his
muscular back and shoulders.

It was tempting to say more to the girl, to lead her on in our
conversation, but I wasn't going to do any of that. I had no ultimate
goal beyond sharing my husband with Amy the way I was, through my
pictures and the memories contained within them. If it was a
seduction, it wasn't intentional, or at least conscious on my part.
Still, how could the girl not be seduced? Kurt was a good looking man
and Amy was just at that age, fourteen going on fifteen, where boys
were the happy mystery in life. 

She was falling in love with my husband.

"Let's have some lunch, okay?" I said finally, both of us were warm. 

I felt sticky with sweat beneath my t-shirt and my sex was moist, my
nipples itching. Amy was the same way, perhaps more so and she was
plainly flustered and inexperienced with the sensations her body was
feeling. She was pink all over and her swollen nipples were stiff with
a darkly florid hue. I could see her sex, just a hint of it as the
material of her panties was stretched tight against her vulva. Amy was
humid there, I knew, wet inside and she needed to relax. We both did.

"I should get dressed, um..." Amy suddenly realized she was just in her
panties and I kept my eyes off of her, sparing the girl as much
embarrassment as I could.

"Yeah, go ahead." I was putting the portfolio away. "I'll make us some
soup. Is chicken noodle okay?"

"Sure, yeah." Amy was relieved at my composure, I thought, and we'd
shared something, but neither of us were quite sure what yet.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"What's he like?" Amy asked me while we sat at the kitchen table,
eating our soup.

"Kurt?" I gave her a little shrug. "He's smarter than me." I thought
for a second. "And patient. He's really calm, like the world is a
little slower when he's around; there's more time or something. It's
weird."

"More time?" Amy giggled and she was dressed now in her skirt and
blouse and comfortable again.

"Yeah, I don't know." I laughed too. "He makes you feel safe,
especially when he holds you. Sometimes I feel like I don't know what
I'm doing, like the world is just going and dragging me with it, but
with Kurt..."

"I feel like that sometimes." Amy agreed.

"...He makes the world slow down. He makes you feel important." I nodded
to myself. "He's so gentle too. I mean he's big, a lot bigger than me
or you, but he's so careful. He'd never hurt us."

"He sounds perfect." The girl sighed and I giggled at that.

"Oh, nobody's perfect." I told her. "He can't cook anything. He leaves
his clothes wherever they land when he takes them off. He never puts
the toilet seat down..."

Amy was laughing and I was shaking my head, listing off the little
things, the unimportant things that mattered not at all. Kurt was
perfect, despite all that, or more probably because of it. All the
reminders that he was just a man; a big, handsome, beautiful man and
he was mine. That was the amazing thing. He was all mine and I was
trying to give him away. What was wrong with me?

"How come you guys don't have kids yet?" Amy asked, being direct the
way only a child can be.

"Oh, we're trying." I said as I cleared the table. "My body doesn't
seem to want any though."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." I smiled weakly. "One of those things, I guess. I see
doctors all the time, you know, take medicine and all that, but..."

"You're so pretty though." Amy said, like being attractive was a cure,
and she really was terribly young.

"Well, I guess I'm not pretty down here." I shrugged, touching my
tummy and that seemed particularly sad, but true.

"That sucks." Amy decided and she had no idea.

"Yeah." I agreed and changed the subject. "Are you ready to do a real
painting now?"

"A real one?" Amy smiled.

"Yeah, I have all the sketches I need." I washed my hands and dried
them. "So, we'll go ahead and start on that cover."

"Do you want me to undress again?" Amy asked and I nodded.

"Yeah, actually..." I thought about it for a second. "...I want you to
wear something different, okay? Come with me."

I led the girl to our bedroom, which was a very strange thing to be
doing. I'd never brought any model there, for any reason, and I'm sure
Amy's mom had given her daughter a talk about things to be wary of
when she was on an assignment. I could see it on her lovely face, the
hesitation and confusion perhaps. Amy wasn't frightened though and she
was curious, more about seeing the place where Kurt slept, where we
made love perhaps, than whatever I was doing.

"Excuse the mess." I apologized. "The maid forgot to make the bed this
morning."

"Okay." Amy giggled a little, eyeing the disheveled sheets and pillows
and looking around. 

"Ah, here..." I was going through my dresser and I pulled out a pair of
small, black lace panties and then a garter belt, a very real one in
black leather. I found the silk stockings to go with it, black with
roses around the tops and long thorny stems along the seams. 

"I'm going to wear that?" Amy narrowed her eyes.

"And a bra...It goes with the panties." I told her, finding a black one
of delicate lace, without any under-wire support at all, just soft
sheer cups. "And shoes. What size shoes do you wear?"

"Um, five."

"Okay, I wear size six, it'll be alright." I smiled at the girl. "All
you have to do is stand in them anyway."

"I've never...How does this work?" Amy giggled, holding the garter belt
in her hands like it was an octopus, the elastic straps falling around
as she turned it this way and that.

She rather enjoyed it, I thought, and I know I did. It was fun
dressing Amy up as a child-whore, which was my obvious intention. My
husband loved stockings and if he had his fetishes, which everyone
does, that would be one of them. Stockings, garters, and black lace
underwear. He'd bought me all of those things and it was precisely
what I wore when I wanted to ensure his eager mood for a long night of
sex.

Amy was very close to my size in height, although my hips were a bit
wider and my B-cups obviously much larger than her budding breasts. It
worked though, and very nicely. The stockings were perfect on her legs
and the garter belt was perhaps slightly loose around her tummy, but
not bad at all. The small amount of baby-fat she had was enough to
compensate for her small waist. The panties went up, over her
stockings and garter straps, and I held my breath as I knelt on my
bedroom floor for the girl. She put her hands on my shoulders and if
Amy was self-conscious about exposing her hairless sex to my eyes, she
didn't express it in any way. I was careful to be the professional, of
course, just an artist dressing my model, the way we do. I felt
certain Amy must have sensed something of my excitement though; there
was an electricity to the moment and I could barely restrain the
energy coursing through my veins as I pulled my panties up her legs,
fitting them carefully to her body.

I adjusted the bra to its smallest size, fixing the straps and it was
more like the top of a bikini than a real bra in any case, and I was
pleased with the way it fit Amy's chest imperfectly. I found a pair of
heels, three inch stilettos in black, and I had her try them on in the
bedroom, but she wouldn't be able to walk far as they were a size too
large. I didn't bother with makeup; she was so lovely without any.
Amy's face was pure and innocent, very much that of a girl her age,
bored and infatuated with the world all at once. I didn't need to
touch her there, she was smart and experienced and blessed with a
talent that cosmetics could only spoil.

I posed her much the same as I had before, adjusting Amy's stance only
slightly to get full effect from the heels. They pushed her ass out
wonderfully, arching the girl's spine to compensate so that her
proffered breasts were thrust out and up sweetly. She was fourteen
years old and begging to be fucked as she stood there, looking
innocent and seductive, and this was Lolita as Nabokov had imagined
her, I was certain. She would have worn something modest and sweet
over the top, a sun dress perhaps, in yellow or cornflower blue, but
underneath...

"Are you okay?" I asked Amy, locking fresh canvas into my easel.
"Comfortable enough?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Amy nodded. 

I had her right hand just below her left breast, fingers together,
thumb spread, as if cupping her desire to mature, searching for the
woman inside. Amy's left hand was behind her hip, giving her body a
slight twist to the left, adding a small dynamic and pulling at her
shoulders nicely. Her beautiful face was smiling, Amy's soft lips
closed in a subtle pout that was entirely natural for the child. She
had a wonderful mouth. And her gold flecked eyes, looking down and
left, as if there were something, or someone behind her, standing
close and wanting to touch her. Amy could feel his presence, the
desire looming close, and it was exciting and amusing and what she
knew she deserved.

Love was coming for her and all I had to do was capture the moment.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"You're really good." Amy was looking through the sketches I'd done
earlier.

"Thanks." I smiled at her and it was quarter to five. 

I'd painted for nearly four hours and her mom would be knocking on the
door any minute. Amy had dressed already and we'd had a little snack,
a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I'd cut in half, sharing it
between us.

"If you see one you like, you can have it." I told her. "I don't need
all of them."

"Really?" Amy smiled. "Cool."

"You probably have a ton of pictures, huh?" I stretched a little.
"From other artists or whatever."

"Yeah, some." Amy nodded. "But not like yours." She was giggling. "You
make me look...Sexy, kinda."

"You think so?" I tilted my head, looking at the drawings as she went
through them slowly. I'd done about two dozen, mostly just quick
studies of some aspect of the girl, her face, or hands. None of them
were complete in any sense.

"Is your husband, um...Kurt? Is he going to look at these?" Amy asked
and she blushed, just a little.

"If he wants to." I shrugged. "I think he was a little overwhelmed
when we first started dating. I used to make him look at everything."

"Oh." Amy laughed.

"Yeah, he'll probably want to see what I was doing, he likes that." I
decided, just to see Amy's reaction.

"Okay." She just nodded, biting her lower lip. "Can I have this one?"
Amy was pulling out a sketch I'd done from behind her, of her
shoulders and neck, her face caught in profile looking left.

"Let me see it." I took it from her, grabbing a pencil and I signed it
quickly. "To Amy, my favorite model. Love Kris. There...Let me spray it
so it won't smudge."

"Thank you." Amy was smiling shyly and I was trembling inside, but I
didn't know why. Maybe because I really did love her just then.

"What's your schedule like this weekend?" I asked her a moment later,
rolling up the picture and finding a thin rubber band to hold the
tube, but I spied a bit of red ribbon and I used that instead.

"Um, I'm working tomorrow." She shrugged. "Some guy in Greenwich, he's
nice but not really very good. Sunday is my day off."

I laughed at that. "Put your finger here." I tied the ribbon into a
little bow. "Maybe next Saturday?"

"Yeah, I don't know." Amy smiled as I gave her the drawing. "My mom
takes care of all that stuff."

"Okay..." I lifted my head as the doorbell rang. "...I'll talk to her
then."

"I hope I can model for you again." Amy said, following me out of my
studio. "It was pretty fun."

"Good." I smiled over my shoulder. "Art should be fun, otherwise...
What's the point?"

"Yeah." Amy agreed. "But sometimes it isn't."

"Yeah." I had to nod at that. "Sometimes. Well, if you can come on a
Saturday you can meet Kurt."

I was speaking nonchalantly, but inside my heart was hammering and my
stomach was knotting up at the idea of seeing Amy and Kurt together,
smiling and talking, getting to know each other. I didn't dare let my
thoughts wander any farther than that. Just seeing them together, that
was enough for the moment and I swallowed hard, blinking my eyes and
forcing myself to relax as I opened the door to greet Amy's mother.

==============-

"Uh...Hi..." Kurt was startled when he opened the front door and found me
right there waiting for him.

I was wearing the exact outfit I'd had on Amy just a few hours
earlier. I was perched on three inch heels, with black silk stockings,
garter belt and matching lace panties and bra. I'd taken a bath,
shaving my pussy bare, which was something I hadn't done since
college. I'd brushed my golden hair and applied just a bit of gloss to
my lips. I didn't need or want makeup.

"Come in here..." I breathed and I was so horny it was unbelievable.

"Okay..." My husband smiled down at me and then gave a little gasp as I
grabbed him, pulling him off balance in my eagerness so that he had no
choice but to take me in his arms. 

I reached up, putting my arms around his neck, pressing my body
against his suit and it was like I was trying to climb up a tree. I'm
sure it would have looked silly to a casual observer, but there was
nothing funny about it to us. Any questions Kurt might have had were
lost as his large hands found my ass, gripping me gently, but with
such strength that it made my heart run wildly. I loved his size and
power. Kurt was a foot and half taller than me, and well over twice my
weight. He was toned and muscular, nothing about him was wasted. He
picked me up easily, as he had a thousand times before, like I was his
child and I found his mouth with mine quickly.

We hadn't even closed the door to our apartment and I had my legs
wrapped around Kurt's waist, my ankles locked with my heels digging at
the top of his buttocks. I could feel his cock stirring beneath the
clothing he wore, that huge muscle coming to life as I tried to find
it with my hungry sex. I clung to the man, turning my head, sealing
our lips and yielding happily for his tongue as it filled my mouth. I
moaned deeply, a low needy sound rising between my aching breasts. I
needed him inside me. I'd been with him all day, sharing him with Amy
while we'd looked through my portfolio, and now he was finally home.

"Fuck me...No..." I breathed, shaking my head with wide and wild eyes as
Kurt started moving, either to close the door, or simply take us to
the bedroom. "Right here...Now...Fuck me now, Kurt..."

"Let me close the..."

"Leave it open." I laughed lightly, sounding crazed with desire. "I
like it..."

"Are you okay?" Kurt smiled at me and his eyes were tinted with
concern. "You haven't been playing with the blender again, have you?"

"Noooo..." I kissed him. "...I just really missed you."

"Wait..." Kurt blinked at me suddenly, jerking his head back. "...you're
not pregnant, are you?"

That more than anything would explain my behavior perhaps, and I could
see the brief flicker of hope in his face. It would have been
incredible if I'd been able to say yes. It would have been like
winning the lottery, or...I don't know. The best thing ever. But I
wasn't pregnant and as soon as Kurt asked, he knew it. He could see it
in my eyes and I think the regret was painful, the sudden thought that
he'd hurt me with his optimism.

"I just love you." I told him, kissing him and forgiving him, although
there was nothing to forgive in my heart.

Kurt recovered fast enough, cradling me with one hand while he worked
to free his cock with the other. He took me there, like I wanted him
to, holding me to his body, impaling me on his long fat cock with the
door wide open. I rode him awkwardly, pulling at his neck and
shoulders, scissoring my legs around him as he moved me with his hands
under my ass. He'd lift me and let me down, moving and turning us
after a moment, pinning me against the wall so he could have some
leverage and fuck me properly. I was cumming quickly, almost as soon
as he'd pulled the gusset of my panty aside and entered me. I was
soaked and ready and I felt little of the initial discomfort that I
normally experienced. Kurt's cock was very large and I was very small.

My thoughts were entirely of him, with the small exception that I
dearly wished the door across the hall would open and Tina would find
us making love. That was my only concession to fantasy and knowing it
was a possibility was enough to let my mind go to other things, real
memories that I'd long ago captured on paper and canvas. I'd relived
the first year of our lives together and now I was feeling it, making
love to Kurt the way we used to. An immediate and spontaneous coupling
that quenched my lust not at all, but only fed the flames of passion.
I wanted more and harder and deeper. I couldn't get enough of my
husband's cock filling my womb. 

I was crying with my eyes tightly shut, the wetness running down my
flushed face as I sucked Kurt's tongue into my mouth. I was breathing
his groans and grunts, adding to them my own sighs and happy gasps as
his cockhead would lunge deep into my cunt, finding the very bottom of
me with a jolting sensation of pain and pleasure, which only served to
confuse my senses all the more. I was tingling all over and my ears
were filled with the rapid purling of my blood. I could smell and
taste our sex on the air. My lungs ached and my heart was ready to
burst; but it was my sex that was exploding, multiple orgasms rocking
me into a rapturous stupor of ecstasy. I couldn't stop cumming and I
felt as if my whole body was wrapped around my husband's manhood,
embracing it and coaxing him to join me.

My husband was cumming soon enough, pulling his mouth away so that he
could give voice to his desperate release. Kurt held me firmly upon
his penis, the full length of him inside me so that his cockhead was
there, bending the soft pillow of my cervix to his strength. I sobbed
loudly, filling our apartment and the long hallway outside with the
sounds of a woman being sated with her lover's potent seed. The
urgency of his orgasm filled us both, Kurt's vigorous sperm shooting
inside me, bathing my womb with hope. Maybe this time, I breathed
silently. It could happen; one chance in a hundred wasn't impossible.
Oh please God, please...

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"What are you working on?" Kurt walked into the studio and it was
still early Saturday morning. 

"Another cover for Harlequin." I said. "It's almost done. You going
for a run?"

"Yeah." Kurt nodded and he was looking over my shoulder. "Tahiti?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" I laughed, teasing him. The background had
come out of our honeymoon album, a photo Kurt had taken.

"I recognize that palm tree." Kurt held my head still so he could kiss
the top of it. "Don't remember the couple though."

"Heh." I smiled at that.

"Who's that?" Kurt asked and I had to turn around on my stool.

He was walking towards my work table and I'd set aside some room for
Amy. Her unfinished canvas was leaning against the wall and the
drawings I'd done were in front of it, piled haphazardly. The pictures
I'd taken were in a little stack and I watched as Kurt picked up the
Polaroid's, looking through them.

"Who's this girl?" He repeated without looking up.

"That's Amy, I got her from the agency yesterday." I said.

Kurt put the photos down and looked through the drawings. I didn't
stop him; I'd never been one to worry about showing my work, whether
it was finished or in progress. Kurt could look at anything I was
doing and it didn't bother me, but this was a little different. It was
like I had a secret, not by design, but by omission. I hadn't
mentioned Amy at all before he discovered her.

"I've seen that outfit before." Kurt said slowly.

He was looking at the canvas now, the painting I'd started the
previous afternoon. It wasn't close to being done, but it was plain
what the girl was wearing and Kurt wasn't likely to forget how I'd
greeted him at the door. I watched as he leaned closer, looking at the
picture up and down as if he were a critic, or a buyer perhaps, and I
had to force myself to stay calm. 

"Do you like her?" I asked, unable to contain myself. "The painting, I
mean."

"The painting?" Kurt gave me a look, almost a frown. "Or the girl? How
old is she?"

"Uh, almost fifteen." I licked my lips. "What do you think?"

"She looks thirteen going on thirty." My husband said. "What's it
for?"

"No reason." I shrugged. "I just...I wanted to paint a girl."

"Kris..."

"What?" I frowned. "I can paint a girl if I want, can't I?"

"This is part of it, right?" Kurt asked me quietly. "What you were
talking about the other night."

I didn't say anything and I couldn't hold a steady gaze into his eyes.

"I'm trying to understand, I really am..."

"There's nothing to understand." I stood up; tossing my brush into a
little coffee can of thinner. "I wanted to paint a girl."

"Kris, come on." Kurt wasn't gong to let it go. "You put her in your
clothes, your underwear. It means something, especially when we had
sex and you..."

"What do you want?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "I liked it,
yeah. I liked painting her, okay?"

"Yesterday. What was that? You were being her when I came home? Is
that it? She becomes you and then you become her?"

"Something..." I swallowed hard. "I don't know."

"You didn't..." His tone told me what he was thinking.

"Didn't what?" I stared at him for a second. "Touch her? Is that what
you think of me?"

"No, I don't think you'd do that."

"But you had to ask, huh?" I felt so confused. I wanted to be angry,
maybe I should have been, but I wasn't. I wanted him to touch her,
afterall.

"I just...I want to know why." Kurt shook his head.

"I told you already." I said. "It isn't about me. I want to see you
with another girl. In love with her."

We stared at each other for half a minute with those words hanging
between us. I didn't know the why and I'd just told him what I wanted
as plainly as I could. I wasn't keeping anything from my husband. This
was it, my desire, my fantasy. I'd found the girl I wanted him to
love, not just fuck, but really love in front of me. I'd already
started working on Amy, introducing her to Kurt through my pictures,
now Kurt had met her.

"I'm in love with you." He said. "Why isn't that enough?"

"She's curious about you." I told Kurt, ignoring the look on his face
and speaking quickly. "Amy was asking me about you. She's never had a
boyfriend. Never had a kiss. She's so beautiful, Kurt, you'd like
her."

"She's thirteen..."

"Fourteen." I corrected him. "Almost fifteen."

"...Whatever." My husband stared at me. "How could I love her? She
doesn't even know who she is yet, Kris. She's a kid. I love you
because we share so much, because of who we were when we met..."

"She'll grow with us." I was becoming increasingly excited. "We can
influence her; help her become the woman we want. The perfect wife,
Kurt."

"That's crazy." He was shaking his head. 

"She'll give us children." I nodded. "We can do this; she'll be my
sister, my gift to you. She can be my Mistress, I'll serve both of
you..."

"Kris, stop."

"...We'll get a divorce and you can marry her." I was searching for a
key; speaking from the heart, not the mind. "Our children have to be
baptized, right? Like we talked about; and I won't be a problem, I
swear. Just let me serve you, I'll do whatever you want."

I was insane, there's no other explanation, and this fetish or
whatever it was, it had to be self-destructive. Where was the happy
ending? If I got what I most desired, I'd lose what I most loved. It
was emotional suicide. A punishment self-inflicted and for what sin? I
couldn't see it, or understand it. I couldn't step back from myself
and analyze what I was feeling. All I could do was act on it.

"I'm going to run." Kurt decided and he gave me a lingering look,
perhaps waiting to see if I'd stop him from leaving.

I said nothing, but merely watched him leave and I had no idea if he'd
ever be back.

end

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