Author: Sterling
Title: Miss Catherine and the Butler (part 1 of 2)
Summary: As an only child in an upper class household, 7-year-old
Catherine has never seen a naked boy or man. Her widowed mother,
recalling ruefully her own ignorance of such things until her
wedding night, makes an impulsive decision.  She orders the
butler to show his male organs to the girl at once, and leaves a
standing order for him to answer any other questions she may
have. Catherine finds in the butler above all a good friend --
but she does also have questions, and he has answers.
Keywords: Mg MF pedo lolita preg oral 1st slow rom

NOTICE:  This story contains explicit sex.

First posted 1/1/2012.

I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed.
Comments to sterling27@live.com.

I have written many other stories and they can all be found at
/files/Authors/Sterling/
For an index see
/files/Authors/Sterling/A%20%20SUBJECT%20INDE
X.txt

You are welcome to copy this story if you include the entire text
unchanged, including this notice.  If you tell me where you have
re-posted it, I can enjoy knowing it is appreciated and perhaps
enjoy the feedback the story gets where you re-post it.

Sterling

And now, our feature presentation.  Enjoy!

============================================================
Miss Catherine and the Butler (part 1 of 2)

Chapter 1


Catherine Lodge sat on the rug in her bedroom.

The girl doll sat in her chair. Catherine held the toy brush with
one hand and steadied the doll with the other. "Time to brush
your hair now, dear," she said. The mother doll who she was
impersonating was lying on the rug, because Catherine had only
two hands and only one toy chair. The hair didn't need brushing
of course; it was just pretend.

"Now it's time to go to sleep. Into bed with you!" said the
mother. So Catherine lay the doll down in the toy bed and pulled
the covers up.

She'd loved the dolls she'd received as a present on her 7th
birthday back in May.  But she was running out of different
things to do with them. She sighed, got up and walked to the
window. Their front yard was an expanse of lawn featuring two
large maples, aflame in their fall crimson on this October
afternoon. Some of the panes let her see clearly, while others
were wavy and gave a shimmery effect as she moved her head from
side to side and looked at the crown of the nearer maple against
the clear blue sky. A horse pulled a carriage at a leisurely pace
down the street of their fashionable town near Boston.

Three days each week, the maid Mrs. Dewing took her over to
Anne's house where she took lessons with Anne's governess Mrs.
Watson. Sometimes Elizabeth joined them as well. Anne was a year
older, and Elizabeth even older. Catherine had learned the
alphabet and numbers, and was now working on reading. The older
girls were already reading, so Catherine was struggling to keep
up. But she was getting the hang of it. Sometimes she thought she
could see things faster than the older girls, even though she was
littler. She thought about taking out her primer now to practice.
She really should, at some point today -- but not yet.

She went over to her bed and jumped up. It was high off the
floor, with a white canopy. It was also very soft, and it bounced
under her sudden weight.

Anne had said something interesting the day before when Mrs.
Watson stepped out for a while. She said she wanted to know where
babies came from. She'd asked her mother, who'd told her heatedly
to wait until she was much older to ask a question like that.
Catherine had wondered about it before, but now that Anne had
mentioned it, she was curious again. She thought she'd ask her
own mother when they took tea together later in the afternoon.

Anne's family was better off than hers. They had a cook, a
scullery maid, and a maid who did cleaning. They had Anne's
mother's personal maid, a butler, and Anne's father's servant.
They also had a coachman, and of course the governess Mrs.
Watson.

Catherine's household included the cook Mrs. Washburn who also
did what the scullery maid did, the maid Mrs. Dewing who both
cleaned and helped Catherine and her mother with clothes and
things, and the butler Charles who also served as gardener and
drove the carriage when her mother arranged for one.

Anne's family had a stable out back with horses. Oh, and they had
a gardener who also took care of the horses. In part their family
needed more help, since Anne had three brothers and one sister,
all older than her, while Catherine was an only child.

Catherine didn't have a father. He'd died when she was very
little, and she barely remembered him. Anne had a father. She
said she only saw him at breakfast, dinner, and shortly before
bed. And she complained that he ignored her, focusing all his
attention on her big brothers. But still, she had one, and that
seemed important somehow.

---------------------------------------------------------

The sandwiches consumed and the usual chitchat out of the way,
Catherine's mother Sarah Lodge sat back, teacup in her hand. Mrs.
Washburn had served them as usual, but would not be back for some
time.

Catherine worked up her courage and looked closely at her mother
as she said, "Mother, where do babies come from?"

She saw her mother's eyes open wide and her body stiffen. But she
didn't think her mother would get mad at her -- her mother didn't
do that.

"Hmmm, yes, I suppose you'd want to know that," she mused. "I was
about your age when I asked about that." Turning to Catherine,
she continued, "You understand that's not the sort of thing you
should talk about with other people, dear?"

"Oh yes, I know that, mother." She almost added, "It's not really
important" -- but she didn't. Instead she looked carefully at her
mother.

"When I asked, my governess told me I shouldn't. When I insisted,
she said I should talk about it with my mother if I was really
set on it. My mother put me off once, but when I asked again she
told me that storks brought babies to the households of men and
women who wanted them."

"Storks bring babies?"

"No. That's what she told me, though. Later I asked about women
with large stomachs, who were said to be expecting. So then I
learned that babies grew inside women's stomachs and came out of
them somehow."

That sounded a little familiar to Catherine; she'd heard about
women who were expecting and when their babies were due. She'd
seen pregnant women. So there were babies in their stomachs? How
did they breathe?

Her mother continued. "But then I wondered about fathers.
Sometimes they say a child looks like its father, and I asked how
that could be. They told me I really shouldn't ask things like
that -- it was not suitable for a young lady to know that."

Catherine saw her mother looking off into space, thinking about
something unpleasant. "Then it was the night before my wedding to
your father... and my mother became entirely flustered telling me
more. How it had to do with private things between our legs and a
man's penis." Her mother squirmed. "But what am I doing telling
you this?"

"What's a penis?"

"You know -- what men and boys urinate with?"

Catherine shook her head.

"You've never seen a boy urinating?"

Catherine shook her head again. She'd once seen that man's back,
with that little arc of water coming out in front of him, but she
hadn't seen where it was coming from.

"Have you never seen a little boy naked? The little thing
sticking out his front?"

When Catherine looked at her blankly, her mother set down her
teacup and took her head in her hands.

"Well, of course you haven't played with boys... Have you seen
male horses urinate?"

Catherine nodded. She had seen that, of course, the tube at their
bellies that got longer and hung down just before the pee came
splashing out.

"Well, boys are kind of like that too."

Catherine gave a puzzled frown. Boys with tubes in their bellies?

Suddenly her mother got a set expression on her face. "Not
exactly like horses, no... Oh this is ridiculous! I will not have
my daughter growing up knowing nothing of the facts of life! Come
with me, Catherine," she said.

Daughter followed mother down into the basement, a place she
seldom went and her mother even more rarely. There were
storerooms down there, the coal pile, a workshop, and Charles's
room. The female servants had rooms in the attic, but his was in
the basement. She rapped on the door.

"Charles? Charles?" said the lady of the house.

They heard a rustling and bumping from within.

"Oh, good you're here."

"Yes, ma'am?" he said through the door.

"I would like to see you at once."

"Oh, is something wrong?" came the muffled voice.

"No, nothing is wrong. I would just like you to open the door, at
your earliest convenience, so I may speak with you."

"One moment, ma'am," came the voice once more.

And in less than a minute, the door opened and Charles emerged.
He was dressed in his work clothes, not his fancy uniform, and he
looked puzzled.

Charles was an old man. He had gray hair and his cheeks sagged a
little. His hands were weathered from years of rough work, his
face lined. He and Catherine had had little to do with each
other, though she had found he gave her friendly smiles from time
to time.

"May we come in?"

"Um, well, ma'am, I'm afraid it's not very tidy in there," he
said.

"Oh, I don't care if it's tidy, Catherine and I would like to
confer with you in your room."

"Yes, ma'am," said the butler. "Could I have just one minute more
to make things right?"

"No," said Catherine's mother with some firmness.

And with that Charles stepped aside and let the two enter.
Catherine's had never been in Charles's room before herself, and
wondered if her mother had.

It was a small room, with one small bed, a dresser and a
nightstand. The bed was not made, sheets and blanket crumpled.
There were some articles of clothing, including what appeared to
Catherine to be undergarments, on the floor.

"Just let me..." said Charles, reaching down for them, hesitating
before putting them on the bed and hastily smoothing out the
sheet and blanket over them.

"There," he said. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, I'll try to do better."

"I really don't care about that," said her mother with a
distracted smile.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Could you please close and lock the door," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," said the butler, presumably resigned to her mother
being in one of her odd moods. Catherine knew that a command to
lock himself into his tiny bedroom with the lady of the house and
her daughter was highly unusual. However, nothing prepared either
of them for the next request.

"Charles, would you please drop your trousers and undergarments
so that Catherine can examine your penis."

"Ma'am?" said Charles, smiling.

"I said I would like you to show Miss Catherine your penis."

"But, ma'am, I would never... surely..."

"It is rather unusual, I confess," said her mother. "Let me
explain. Catherine has never seen a boy or man naked. She has no
idea how the fair and strong sexes differ in their anatomy. You
are the only male in this household, so you are the only one who
can enlighten my daughter on this point."

"Um," said Charles. "It seems very unfitting. Perhaps we could
think about this some more and see if it seems like a wise idea
tomorrow?" he continued, reasonably.

"Yes, yes, that would be the prudent thing, wouldn't it?" But
after a pause, she continued with some heat, "I know this isn't
reasonable, but if I don't do it now, I never will. Do you think
it's easy for me to do this? It is of course embarrassing, and
against all custom -- this I know well! But I will not have my
daughter growing up wondering about the nature of a man's body,
not to get to her wedding night like I did, having no idea what I
would see..."

"Yes, ma'am, but it still is many years before young Catherine
will marry, I venture."

"Charles!" said Catherine's mother with passion. "Do you want to
keep your position? Do it! Now!"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and took a deep breath. He unfastened the
buttons of his trousers with an embarrassed look at mother and
daughter. Within moments the woolen pants fell to the man's
knees, revealing a white undergarment. This too he pulled down to
his knees.

And for the first time in her life, Catherine saw what was
between a man's legs. Her first observation was that there was
stuff that stuck out, big stuff the size of a hand. In more
detail, the tube was most obvious, and below it a couple of
roundish things in some sort of fleshy bag. And there was lots of
hair.

Glancing at her mother's face, Catherine saw that it was a little
pale, her upper lip slightly curled in distaste.

Then she spoke all in a rush. "Now, Catherine, here is what you
are seeing. That tube is the penis. When Charles urinates, the
urine comes out the end of the penis. Babies are made by a fluid
that the male makes going inside the female body. The testicles
in that sac there make the seed, and when it is time to make a
baby, the penis extends, becoming long and stiff, and then the
man inserts it between the woman's legs, into her vagina, and the
seed is propelled out of the penis and into her body. There it
causes a baby to grow in her uterus, and after nine months she
pushes it out of her body through the same opening, her vagina.
And those are the facts of life I never learned until I was much,
much older than you."

As Catherine stared in fascination between Charles's legs, she
noticed changes. The roundish things in their bag shifted a
little. More noticeably, the tube was definitely getting longer.
That was peculiar.

"Ma'am, pardon, but is that quite enough?" said Charles.

Catherine's mother looked down between Charles's legs and
Catherine saw the hint of a smile.

"Please, ma'am?" said Charles with emphasis.

"Yes, that will be fine, Charles," said her mother. As he rapidly
pulled up his undergarment and trousers, she continued, "I know
that was a very unusual request, and I thank you for doing as I
asked. Please, let's none of us speak of this to anyone else."

"Will there be anything else?" asked Charles with relief, at the
door and ready to unlock it.

"No, nothing else." But when the door was open and her mother
halfway out, she said, "Yes, one more thing. Charles, I would
like you to answer any questions Catherine has about the male
body, and show her its workings if she requests. You should of
course do nothing unless she asks, but please, I don't want her
to grow up wondering about these things and never knowing. At the
very least, I expect Catherine will want to watch while you
relieve your bladder. But only behind closed doors."

"Um, yes, ma'am," Charles said as mother and daughter headed
upstairs.

Back in the parlor, Catherine's mother sat down again, and
Catherine followed her lead. "So there, now you have seen between
a man's legs, and I've explained to you where babies come from.
But please, don't mention any of this to another soul, including
Anne and Elizabeth. They might tell their parents, and other
people would not understand."

"Yes, mother," said Catherine.

"Do feel free to ask Charles anything, or show you anything you
are curious about, in his room with the door locked. However, you
also understand that he must never do anything that you do not
ask him to do, nor may he ask you to keep any confidences from
me. If there is anything that troubles you, please do tell me."

"Yes, mother," said Catherine. But she had the sense that she
wasn't going to make her mother uncomfortable talking about
anything like this again for a long time.

====================================================
Chapter 2

On the way to her room, Catherine stopped by the lavatory to
relieve herself. After she had peed and wiped herself, she took a
closer look between her legs. Had her mother said something about
an opening down there? She gently spread her little flaps as far
apart as they went and looked. There was the pee hole, and the
poop hole, and some sort of stuff in the middle that she'd never
really gotten. Maybe it was a hole, but it couldn't be the kind
her mother had spoken about. Had she said something about a baby
coming out through a hole? Maybe she'd misheard. Maybe she meant
her poop hole? Her belly button? None of the possibilities seemed
at all promising, though she knew from experience that her poop
hole actually did open up bigger than the others.

Back in her room, she lay down on her bed to think. She was still
shocked at what she'd seen between Charles's legs. It was flesh,
part of his body as surely as her fingers belonged to her. The
way the tube had started lengthening -- that was a little like
what the boy horses did before they peed. And she could imagine
pee coming out the end of Charles's thing -- penis was the name
-- kind of like it did from the horse. But what she'd said about
the babies had gone by pretty fast. Something about the penis and
seed. Maybe she'd misheard, and the woman ate the seed?

---------------------------------------------------------

Catherine was a little embarrassed the next time she saw Charles,
and he looked away as well. But two days later he came across her
in the upper hallway with no one else around.

He leaned over and said quietly, "How are you, Miss Catherine?"

"Fine," she said, giving a fleeting glance up at his face.

"Just between me and you, Miss Catherine, what your mother did
the other day just wasn't right. Not right. A girl your age
should never have to see that. I'm sorry. I thought of letting
her dismiss me if she was going to, just so you wouldn't have to
see it. But I need the position, especially at my age. Do you
understand, Miss Catherine? Do you forgive me?"

When Catherine looked up again, she was struck by the tenderness
on the man's face.

"Oh, I understand, Charles. It was all right. I know you really
didn't want to do it and my mother made you. But... it was good
for me to see, I think. Since I never had before."

"Well, I don't know about that, Catherine, though it's nice of
you to say it."

"Did you mind? I mean showing it like that? Your privates?"

"Me? Well, no, I guess not, or maybe -- I don't know, but what's
important is how you felt about it, and it shouldn't have
happened. I didn't want you to have to see it, understood?"

"Yes, I understand. Thank you," said Catherine.

"Very well, Miss Catherine, good. But I want the best for you,
you know, and... it just wasn't right."

---------------------------------------------------------

Catherine thought again about  that expression on Charles's face
and the tone of his voice when he said, 'I want the best for
you'. There was something in it that she didn't hear from anyone
else in her life. Mrs. Washburn had a hard, set face. She was not
the sort of person a girl could talk to unless it was about some
important business. Mrs. Dewing wasn't much better -- she did
what was required, but her thoughts always seemed to be
elsewhere. Anne was just a kid like her. And as for her mother,
well, her mother loved her certainly, but it always felt a little
uneasy. Nothing as simple as that warm smile and, 'I want the
best for you'.

She wandered down to the basement and knocked on the door.

A couple moments later Charles opened it and looked at her with
an uncertain expression.

"Hello, Miss Catherine."

"Hi." There was a brief silence.

"What can I do for you?"

"Can I come in?"

"Um, yeah, of course," he said warily.

This time the bed was neatly made up, there were no clothes on
the floor, and it looked entirely tidy. She sat on the edge of
the bed.

"Looks nice and clean," she said.

"Well, yes, I figured if the lady might come down I ought to get
it looking decent. Should have anyway, of course."

Catherine noticed that Charles was still standing and the door
was open.

"Can you sit with me?" she asked.

He sat, leaving the door open.

"This is Victoria," said Catherine, bringing out the baby doll.

"Oh, she's very pretty."

"I got her for my birthday. And she's the baby. I have her mother
too, and a bed and a bunch of different clothes. It's all very
nice."

She noticed that Charles was listening with rapt attention,
smiling that same smile she'd seen before. It made her feel warm
inside. Then she talked about the food they'd had for dinner the
night before, Charles inserting friendly comments as she spoke.
Then she turned to the subject of Anne and her lessons. After
she'd talked on for twenty minutes or so she hopped up.

"Bye!" she said.

"Goodbye, Miss Catherine," said Charles with another big smile.

But she came down again the next day, this time with the mother
doll, and the day after without anything special to show him.

His work had him out at different times, but in the hours between
the mid-day meal and tea he was usually free and resting in his
room. He usually left the door open now. At first she knocked
anyway, and then she just went in. She knew he could hear her
coming down the stairs, so she wouldn't surprise him.

"What do you do?" she asked.

"You mean, what work?"

"Yes. I see you tending the yard, and you serve us at dinner, but
what else?"

"You think I ought to work harder?" he asked, and she saw the
twinkle in his eye.

"No, I just wondered," she said with a small smile.

He explained how he worked with her mother to order supplies for
the house, keeping record books, and how he did little repairs
around the house. He was very patient, answering all of her
questions even when she realized she'd asked a dumb one.

He brought out one of the account books and sat on his bed with
it. Catherine rose to kneeling and leaned against him to get a
better look. He looked over and gave her that happy smile again.

When he got up to put that book away, he got another from the
dresser, turned and hesitated. Then he went to the door, shutting
and locking it. It was the first time the door had been shut
since that afternoon when she'd visited with her mother.

This time when he sat with the account book, he leaned back
against the wall. Up over his head was the small window set into
its well next to the house that gave the room its only light.

Catherine tried to kneel next to him to see, but she couldn't get
a good angle.

"Do you want to... sit in my lap?" he asked gently.

Catherine didn't need to be asked twice. She happily plopped
herself down and leaned back against his chest as he explained
the entries in this second book.

After a bit she turned her body a little to her right, and leaned
her right cheek against his chest and closed her eyes.

When Charles noticed, he stopped explaining and slowly put the
book down. His left arm slowly descended over her left shoulder.
She felt safe and warm.

"Oh, Miss Catherine," whispered Charles, then gently kissed the
top of her head.

She felt wonderful. To feel cuddled, enclosed in this man's arms
and rest her head against his chest, was heaven. She vaguely
remembered sitting this way with her mother and how much she
missed it. But she had learned she wasn't welcome in her mother's
lap any more. But Charles didn't mind; she knew it. She could
stay in his arms for as long as she wanted. She felt like she had
come home.

He began gently rocking back and forth. As the minutes went by,
neither of them speaking, Catherine found herself feeling drowsy.

Finally she stretched, got up, opened the door and let herself
out with a simple, "Bye."

She didn't come back to visit him for three days, and when she
did she just talked about her life: food, clothes, news from Anne
and Elizabeth, and what she'd seen on the street.

The next day she came again. She wanted to sit in his lap, but
didn't think she should ask. What if he said no? But just as she
was thinking that, he moved back against the wall where he'd been
before, and said, "You want to?"

Catherine clambered on board his lap to snuggle once again,
losing herself in that warm feeling.

The next day, as she lay against his chest, she got to thinking.
She liked Charles, but who was he? She wanted to know more. "Do
you have a family?"

"A family? Why yes, of course. I have a brother and a sister, and
the sister has two sons and a daughter."

"Do you have parents?"

"Well, I did, but they died some time ago. I'm not a young man."

"How old are you?"

"Sixty-one."

"Did you know your mother and father growing up?"

"Yes, I knew them both."

"I never knew my daddy."

"I know."

"You knew him?"

"Yes, I worked for him for many years."

Catherine liked the idea that this man had a connection to her
daddy. She supposed it made sense, since he had worked at the
house for as long as she could remember, so he'd probably worked
there while her daddy was alive too.

"What about a wife? Were you ever married?"

"No, I never married," he said with a laugh.

"Why not?"

"I felt it wasn't right to marry unless I could support a wife
and family properly, and I never got the security."

Catherine was aware of something down in Charles's lap under
where she sat, a sort of bump. She wiggled back and forth. It
reminded her of something.

She looked up at Charles with a mischievous expression, and said,
"My mother said I should get you to show me how you urinate some
time." She remembered how he'd squirmed and twisted that first
day, doing anything he could to put off having to show her his
penis. She figured he'd be uncomfortable now too.

"Yes she did, I recall. Would you like to see that?"

"Um, sure!" said Catherine. She didn't think he'd agree to do it
just like that. Did she really want to see? Yeah, she guessed she
did.

"Well, in a few minutes. Why don't you sit beside me for a
little."

"Why? Why not now?"

"Oh, just so."

Catherine shrugged and sat beside Charles. He got up and
stretched and she noticed a bulge in the front of his trousers.

"Well, let me get out my pot," he said, reaching under the bed
and coming up with a clean but stained small metal pot. She and
her mother had a separate room with a real toilet, one of the new
kinds. But there was an outhouse in the back that the servants
used, and she was familiar with chamber pots as well.

He stood for another minute, showing her his father's napkin
ring, the only memento he had of him. Then he said, "OK, watch
closely."

Charles stood right next to her and pulled down his trousers
again, this time to his ankles, and then his undergarment. This
was Catherine's second look at a penis. It wasn't a shock like
the first time, but it was still plenty new. Since she was
sitting and he was standing right next to her, it was just at eye
level and she was much closer to it. There were lots of details
she hadn't noticed before, like the hair was mostly above where
the penis came out, though a little was on that little sac below,
which looked different now.

Charles held the pot with one hand and his penis with the other.
"So, Miss Catherine, I aim my penis like this, and then let go,
and..." A perfect narrow stream of urine leapt from the tip of
the organ and splashed into the metal pot. After many seconds the
stream weakened and stopped. Then there was a sudden squirt.
Catherine giggled. Charles noticed and smiled, then gave a second
squirt. After a third and much smaller squirt, Charles shook the
head of his penis a few times, then let go so the funny finger of
flesh dangled down.

"So, Miss Catherine, that's how it's done," he said, putting the
pot back under the bed. But he didn't pull his trousers up again.
"Do you want to look at it some more? Maybe touch it? See how it
feels?"

Catherine hadn't been thinking she wanted to touch it, but since
he offered, she did reach out and stroked her finger lightly
along the top before withdrawing her hand. It felt like any other
skin.

"Any more? You can."

Catherine shook her head.

"So, Miss Catherine, now you've seen how a man gets rid of his
water." He pulled up his undergarment and trousers.

"Thanks, bye!" said Catherine with a little wave, unlocking the
door and heading upstairs.

The next day she told him all about her day and didn't sit on his
lap. When she visited two days later she sat on Charles's lap
again, and he rocked her gently and stroked her hair. She liked
when he did that, and he stroked her cheek too. But she was
relieved that the subject of his penis didn't come up.

A few days went by before she had a chance to visit him again,
and then she didn't for a day when she could have. But then Anne
was mean to her when she was over for lessons, and she wanted to
tell her friend Charles and feel safe and loved with him again.
So she found him, and talked for some time about how awful Anne
had been. Charles listened sympathetically, then asked if she'd
like to sit in his lap. She gladly snuggled up against him. She
was so very glad she had Charles as a friend.

When she was feeling relaxed and happy, her anger at Anne mostly
forgotten, she felt once again that bump under her. Charles
gently arched his pelvis upward, momentarily lifting her up an
inches. He wriggled once beneath her.

"Miss Catherine, sit up just a second," he said, and she raised
herself off him a little. She was aware of his hand underneath
her bottom tugging at his pants briefly. 'There, OK, that's much
better," he said, and she sat down again.

Now the bump was gone, or at least it was different. She wriggled
around and felt it again, this time higher up towards his belly.
It must be his penis or maybe those other things? But a penis
wasn't hard like that. Her mother had said she could ask him
anything about what men were like.

"Charles, what's that bump I feel down there?"

"Um, that's my penis, Miss Catherine."

"But why does it feel hard like that?"

"Oh, hmmm, well, penises change. Sometimes they're soft and
sometimes they're hard."

"Oh." After a pause, she said, "Why?"

"Well, do you remember what your mother said about how babies are
made?"

"Sort of, but I'm not sure I caught all of it."

"You want me to tell you again?"

"Yeah," she said, though she wasn't entirely sure.

"Womenfolk have a hole between their legs, and when it's time to
make a baby, the man's penis pokes into the hole and he squirts
out his stuff inside her body, where it grows to make the baby.
But to get his penis inside, so it can poke right, it gets hard
first."

"Oh," said Catherine, a little sick to her stomach. "And did
mommy say the baby comes out through a hole too?"

"Yeah, the same hole."

"When do women get this hole?"

"Oh! Well, girls are born with it too. You must have one." He
regarded her with his usual kindly expression.

Catherine was uneasy. Was she a freak? She didn't have any hole a
baby could get through. Maybe her mother could say, since she was
a female and had actually had a baby? But she knew her mother
didn't like talking about these subjects.

"If you'd like, Miss Catherine, I could show you what a penis
looks like when it's hard like that. Because it's hard now. But
only if you'd like."

"No, thanks!" she said brightly, and tripped out of the room.

---------------------------------------------------------

Catherine didn't go to see Charles for a week. He reminded her of
penises, and she'd thought enough about them for the time being.
But then she missed her friend. So the next time she went she
just sat on the bed next to him and they chatted. He was as warm
and friendly as ever. The next day she was kind of hoping to
cuddle in his lap again, but he didn't offer and she went away
disappointed. So the next day, she got up her courage and asked
if she could. He said, "Certainly, Miss Catherine!" and she
snuggled with him again. She sat to avoid any bump down between
his legs if there was one, and she felt safe as always.

Catherine's moods varied, like any person's. Sometimes she was
just happy and feeling independent and didn't go to see Charles
at all. Sometimes she was feeling sad or upset and went to him
for comfort, and sometimes she was just feeling slow and sleepy,
and his warm embrace was reassuring then too. She learned that he
never brought up the subject of penises. She could visit her
friend and completely ignore that his body was different from
hers.

Other times she was mischievous or curious, and sometimes that
extended to Charles's mysterious male body. One day she moved her
bottom trying to feel that lump down inside his pants, and it was
there. Her curiosity got the better of her shyness.

"You remember how you're supposed to answer any questions I have
about a man's body?"

"Yes, Miss Catherine, I remember."

"Could you... Could you show me what your penis looks like when
it's hard? It's hard now, isn't it?" He'd made the offer a few
weeks before.

"Yes, it's hard now. Sure, I'd be happy to show you. Give me a
little room."

This time he didn't stand up, but just lifted his hips enough to
pull down the garments that covered his lower parts.

She could see it was the same organ, but it looked very
different. It stuck straight up and was much longer. Her eyes
were riveted to it. Each time his heart beat, it twitched a
little bit.

"Quite different, isn't it?" Charles said with a smile.

"Why does it get like that?" Catherine asked softly.

"Um, well, it gets like that when a man is about to give a woman
a baby."

"But why now?"

"It gets that way other times too, just on its own. For instance,
when I first wake up in the morning it's often that way."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, no... It doesn't hurt. Do you want to touch it?"

She sensed he sort of wished she would, and she was curious. She
put her finger on the tip and then ran it down the side. It was
smooth and almost hot to the touch.

"You can put your hand around it, like on a bar," he said, gently
demonstrating and wrapping her hand around it.

"And that doesn't hurt?" she asked.

"No! Not at all..."

She withdrew her hand and looked at the large, stiff organ
sticking up out of Charles's body. "So, if you were going to make
a baby with a woman, you'd put that inside of her?"

"Yes, that's the idea." Charles grinned.

"But you never had to do that, because you never wanted to make a
baby, right?"

Charles laughed briefly. "Oh, dear Catherine. It's not like that!
It's not 'never had to', it's more 'never got to'! Men want to
stick their penises in women a lot. Whether they're trying to
make babies or not."

"They do?" said Catherine with a feeling of mild disgust.

"And when they do... Here, let me show you. See this?" he said,
showing her his right hand made into a little tube. "I'll pretend
this is the hole in a woman."

Catherine then saw him put the make-believe woman's hole right at
the tip of his penis and then he thrust his hips to shove it up
inside. Then he drew it out and shoved it in, over and over. "It
feels really good, Catherine," he whispered. And then, "You
remember how a man puts his seed in the woman to make a baby?"

Catherine nodded. There were a couple feet between them on the
bed.

"It works like this," he said. "Just watch." And with that he
forced his penis up into his hand faster and faster, pleasure
showing on his face. "It's about to happen," he gasped.

Catherine was aware that he was looking at her, and not just at
her face. His eyes were roaming up and down her body. "Look,
Catherine, oh, look!" And then he was silent.

Catherine was startled as an arc of fluid shot out the end of his
penis, the same place the pee had come out of before. It landed
on his shirt up over his chest. But no sooner had that one landed
than another arc shot out, not going as far, and then a third and
a fourth surged out and got mixed up between his hand and penis
as he kept thrusting his penis into the tube his hand formed.

Suddenly he stopped holding his breath and gasped. "That felt
fantastic, Catherine," he said, and let his hand fall away. His
penis started drooping.

She got up from the bed and stood a little distance away, still
looking at the gray-haired man on his back, private parts on full
display, goop spattered on his shirt, panting, with a happy grin
on his face.

"Now I clean it up," he said, and rummaged under the bed for a
different undergarment. He quickly wiped his hand, his penis, his
stomach, and got the worst of the blobs off his shirt. He then
stuck the cloth back under his bed and sat up on the edge, his
penis now soft and small.

"So, Miss Catherine," he said. "My job was to show you about men
and their bodies, and now you've seen how that part works."

Catherine was tempted to leave, but she stayed, looking at the
servant and thinking about what she'd just seen. "And it feels
good when a man sticks it in a woman and does that, too?"

"They say it's even better. I've never gotten to do that, but
lots of men will do just about anything to get it into a woman."

"Oh. And what about the women? Doesn't it hurt them?"

"Well, they say it does the first time, until the tube is kind of
stretched out. But after that, the women like it too."

"They want men to stick that thing into them?" Catherine asked
incredulously. "Not just go through it so they can have a baby?"

"Lots of women, yeah. They just like doing it. But if they're not
married, mostly they don't actually do it, because they're scared
of having a baby."

"You mean they could get a baby even if they don't want one?"

"Oh, yes. If that stuff gets into a woman's vagina, that's all it
takes if things are right up inside her. Most often it won't make
a baby, but she can never be sure. In some ways we're just like
animals. Have you ever seen animals doing it? Dogs, horses,
sheep, squirrels?"

Catherine shook her head.

"Well, it's just instinct. The female holds still and the male
gets up behind her and sticks his penis into her vagina." Charles
demonstrated with his finger going into the make-believe vagina
he had used earlier. "Then he goes in and out a few times, like I
did with my hand, and then his seed spurts out, and then he's
done. The babies grow in her body."

Catherine relaxed a little as the talk had turned from people to
animals.

"We've got the same instincts, we people. Of course, we're
civilized, so we never do it out in public. And we're supposed to
wait until we're married and have a good home for a baby to grow
up in. But some people don't wait, and girls have babies anyway,
and those girls have a hard lot in life."

Catherine looked at the wall, trying to take in all this
information.

"Once you know about all that, other things make sense too. Like
men want to do it more than women, so some women let them do it
if they pay them money. They're called prostitutes or whores or a
bunch of other names."

"I'll never want a man to do anything like that to me."

"Oh, of course not, Miss Catherine. You're too young. It's when a
girl gets bigger, with breasts and all -- that's when she starts
feeling that way."

"Bye!" said Catherine, and let herself out.

"Bye, Miss Catherine."

========================================
Chapter 3

Catherine went on with her life -- she had tea with her mother
that afternoon, then read her primer, played with her dolls,
walked around the yard, and before long it was time for dinner,
and then bed. And the next day her routine continued. Her mother
said she'd noticed she seemed to be friendly with Charles and
asked if everything was OK, and Catherine assured her everything
was just fine. She went to Anne's house for her lessons some
days, and went on outings with her mother in the carriage on
others.

When she had time to think things over, everything she had
experienced in her last session with Charles came back to her. 
But she didn't go to see him for a week.

He passed her in the hallway one day and squatted down to her
level. With that kindness in his eyes that she had come to love,
he said, "Maybe that was too much the other day? You can stop by
any time, you know, just to talk and whatever, same as we used
to. That is, if you want. Any time. OK?"

Catherine smiled. She had hoped that was true, but looking into
his face now she knew it.

And that afternoon she skipped down to his room and plopped in
his lap, babbling on about her day and everything that had
happened. After a while, she turned around and snuggled against
him as always. When she sat a certain way, she was aware of the
stiff lump of his penis, so she carefully adjusted herself not to
press on it too much.

She went down to have her time with Charles every day she could,
and they spent between fifteen minutes and an hour together. Each
time she cuddled on his lap, she was aware of that hard penis.

When several weeks had passed and she felt sure she was in charge
of their private play, her curiosity about penises got the better
of her again. She decided to perform an experiment. She raced
down the stairs, pushed Charles back onto the bed and plopped
herself down so her bottom was on top of his penis lump. But the
lump wasn't there at first. As she sat, she felt it swelling up
underneath her. It was as she expected.

"I've got a question," she said, looking back over her shoulder
at him. "You said sometimes your penis is hard and sometimes it's
not. But it's always hard when I'm sitting on your lap. And just
now it wasn't hard before but got hard once I sat down. Why?"

"Oh, well, Miss Catherine. I'm sorry about that. Does it bother
you? Poke you wrong somehow?"

"No, it doesn't hurt. I'm just interested. You're supposed to
help me learn anything I need to know, right?"

"That's right, Miss Catherine. Well, let me see. The time a penis
always gets hard is when a man knows he's going to do it to a
woman. And sometimes it gets hard when a man wants to, even if he
knows she isn't going to let him. Or even when he doesn't really
want to do it, but his body thinks it would be good." He sounded
a little bit troubled. "And sometimes just from rubbing, like you
rub on it when you sit in my lap."

"But when you were showing me how it worked that other day,
remember? You were looking at me. At my body."

Charles turned his gaze away. "Well, Miss Catherine..." He was
silent and looked uncomfortable. "It just happened," he said, but
she wasn't convinced.

"I don't believe you," she said. "And you're supposed to tell me
anything I want to know."

Charles then said, "Well, Miss Catherine, you're way too young to
be doing any baby-making, but your body's still got all those
same parts as a woman's, so I bet in the back of my mind, in the
part of me that's like an animal, it kind of makes me think about
it. I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," said Catherine happily. She had the power to
make him feel like making babies.

Charles seemed relieved. "You are way too young to really think
of that way, but you know, Miss Catherine, I really do love it
when you come to see me. Did you know that?"

"You do?" She was pretty sure of it, but it was nice to hear him
say it.

His face was kind, as always, but there was something else to it
as well. "Yes, I like it a lot. And there are other things I feel
like doing."

"Like what?"

"Well, like this," he said. He took her right hand and brought it
to his mouth and kissed in on the back side. Then he kissed her
knuckles, and then the tip of every finger, one after the other.

"Do you mind?" he asked earnestly.

She smiled and shook her head.

"And like this." Dropping her hand, he reached down very slowly
until his lips were against her ear, and he slowly kissed it,
very gently. Since it was right on her ear, she could hear the
tiny kissing sound clearly, and hear an excitement in his
breathing. Catherine felt a little thrill go through her.

"Did you mind that?" he whispered.

"No," said Catherine happily.

He planted a little kiss on her neck. Then he slid his lips
gently to the side and kissed right next to it. Each kiss was
very slow and leisurely, with plenty of space between. She felt
him kiss at the border of her hair and neck.

"OK?" he said.

"I like it," she said. And she did. She felt well loved,
cherished. Some tiny little thing felt a little odd too, but she
couldn't tell what.

He then stopped with the kissing and gently rubbed her shoulders
through her dress, then her upper arms. Reaching between the two
of them, he rubbed next to her backbone.

She was aware of the hard lump of his penis below her bottom.

He then removed his hands so she could settle back against his
chest again, and he slowly moved his hands over her stomach,
gently caressing.

These were all warm, pleasant feeling, but after a brief time
Catherine had had enough. She stretched and got off his lap, but
sat on the bed. She looked into his eyes, and he looked back. His
face was open, vulnerable, and his eyes a little misty.

"Goodbye, Charles," she said, and on an impulse reached in and
kissed him on the cheek with a giggle.

When she came down the next day she gabbed a bit about all the
things on her mind, and then snuggled back into his arms as
usual. After a couple minutes, he reached down slowly with his
lips towards her ear. Catherine didn't feel like that, so she
squirmed and he immediately stopped and went back to holding her
like he always had. He rocked her a little, and she felt safe and
warm once more.

---------------------------------------------------------

The weeks went by. Sometimes she didn't see Charles for several
days at a time, and often she just chatted with him and didn't
sit on his lap at all. Other times she sat and snuggled against
him. He never tried kissing her in those other ways again. His
penis almost always got hard underneath her, however.

Then one day the penis wasn't hard, nor the next day. "Charles,
how come your penis doesn't get hard?"

"Oh, it comes and goes, like I said."

She looked at him steadily.

"I could tell you, Miss Catherine, but maybe I'd better not, OK?"

"No, I want to know -- tell me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Catherine felt Charles's face light up a little. "Well, like we
said before, something about being with you makes my penis all
hard and puts me in the mood for doing that thing you know."

"Putting your penis in a woman?"

"Yeah, that's right. So it used to be that most times after you'd
go, I'd do that thing I showed you that day, and then I felt
better. But when you're sitting on my lap like that beforehand,
well, for one thing it's kind of uncomfortable to have it kind of
bent all different ways in there, inside my pants. And also, I'm
sort of thinking of this thing with one part of my mind that
isn't what you want. And that's not right, somehow. So I decided
to do that thing where I make the stuff come out before I think
you might be coming down, and then I don't feel that way when
you're here, see?"

"Once you do that thing where the stuff shoots out, then you
don't feel like it?"

"No, it's another one of nature's little tricks. Nature makes me
want to put the stuff in a woman, but once I've done that -- I
mean, if I were doing it, you know -- then I don't have any stuff
until I make some more, so I don't feel like it."

"That makes sense," said Catherine. It mostly did, but something
about it wasn't quite right either.

A couple days later Catherine was in a very bad mood. Charles
listened to her and held her in his arms and before long
Catherine felt all was right with the world once more and she
felt very grateful. As she lay happily in Charles's arms, with no
lump underneath her bottom, she felt more alive and energetic
than usual, and a little naughty.

"Charles?"

"Yes, Miss Catherine?"

"You're so very, very nice to me, you know that? I really like
being with you like this all the time. You're my best friend."

"Oh, my goodness, Miss Catherine. I'm just a servant, you know.
There's your mother, she's your people and loves you very much
and all, and then Miss Anne is a friend too, isn't she?"

"Oh yes, but they're not the same way. I can talk with you about
anything, and you always listen and never laugh at me. And you
hold me in your arms and make me feel all safe and warm."

"Oh, well, yes, I'm glad I can be of help to you."

"Do you like our time together?"

"Oh, yes, Catherine, very much. Though if you didn't feel like
coming, that would be fine with me too."

"Is there anything I could do to be nice to you like you're nice
to me?"

"Oh, you don't need to do anything for me, Miss. Like I said,
it's fun being with you."

"But would something make it better?"

"Well, your mother pays me a good wage, if that's what you mean."

"No, it's not that. I just wondered if, you know..." She gave a
big sigh. "Never mind."

Catherine lay against Charles's chest for a minute, a little
dissatisfied. But then he very slowly took her right hand and
brought it to his lips. Catherine didn't pull away, but smiled up
over her shoulder at him. He smiled back, and kissed her fingers
one by one. She was aware of the hard lump of his penis forming
underneath her as she sat. Then he took her finger and very
slowly put it into his mouth and sucked on it. Catherine just
kept smiling.

He then repeated much of the kissing and rubbing he'd done
before, but at a faster pace. Catherine liked the feelings, and
now she knew what was different. Whenever she sat in his lap she
felt cherished. But now Charles was getting those feelings about
wanting to stick his penis in a woman. They weren't feelings she
could really understand. But now and then, she liked letting
Charles have those feelings about her. It felt more intense,
somehow, and a little naughty, and exciting to think of him
feeling so positively about her.

Just then she felt his pelvis surge upwards, pressing the hard
lump of his penis against her bottom.

"Charles?" she said.

"Yes, sweetie -- I mean, Miss Catherine?"

"Would you like to take your penis out and rub it like you did
before? I wouldn't mind."

"Are you sure, Miss Catherine?"

"Well, if you'd like to. Not if you don't want to. It's not like
a lesson about the male body you have to give me because my
mother said so."

They both smiled at each other. "Oh, Catherine, I'd like to so
much!" he said. And within seconds she had gotten off of him and
he'd pulled down trousers and undergarment to show his big penis
once more.

"You just made the stuff come out before I came?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing his hard penis.

"I thought you said when that happened you didn't want to do it
for a while."

"Not usually, but when a sweet girl is with me, and invites me to
touch her that way, well..."

Charles rubbed away, looking happy, stealing glances at her body.
She expected the stuff to spurt out. But after a while he started
looking a little more desperate and rubbing harder.

"Is something wrong, Charles?" she asked.

"No, no... it's just that it's hard to make the stuff come out
again so soon. But you could help me, if you'd like."

"Oh, OK. What would help?"

"Oh, goodness, what am I saying? I shouldn't ask you anything
like this..."

"No, go ahead!"

"Um, would you like to rub it instead of me? I mean, only if you
want."

Catherine smiled and reached in to grasp his penis and rub it up
and down like he'd been doing. She couldn't go as fast as he
could.

"Oh, that's great, honey," he said after a moment. "But I can
think of a better way."

"What?"

"I really shouldn't ask. You can say no."

"OK, what?"

"Would you, um, show me your drawers?"

"My drawers? You want to see my drawers?" she said with a smile.

Charles nodded, stroking his penis up and down.

She wasn't supposed to show anyone her drawers ordinarily, but
she was doing lots of things with Charles she didn't ordinarily
do. She started reaching under her dress to pull them down.

"Stand up, first," said Charles.

She stood and smoothed down her play dress, then started lifting
it slowly. She reached the top of her socks and her knees showed.
She saw his eyes riveted to the hem of her dress. "I think there
are drawers up here somewhere..." she teased.

Charles moaned.

She was actually wearing some pretty short drawers. Some came
down nearly to her knee, but these didn't reach that far. So she
raised the dress slowly, inch by inch. She was showing a man her
thighs. Then her drawers came into view.

Charles stared, mesmerized, and rubbed up and down on his penis
harder than before.

"You want to see all of them?" she said.

Charles nodded vigorously, moaning and puffing as he rubbed away,
thrusting his hips forward over and over.

Her dress was now high enough that he could look at her tummy
above the tops of the drawers too.

"One more thing..." he said. "Could you just press against the
spot where... where you make water from?"

Catherine smiled and pressed her finger right on the spot.

"Oh, oh, oh, OH!" said Charles, his face contorted as the stuff
dribbled out of his penis and he fell back, gasping for breath.

After letting her dress fall back into position, Catherine sat
beside Charles and looked at the dribbles. She was curious. "Can
I touch it?"

Charles roused himself to see what she meant, then smiled and
said, "Oh, yes, if you'd like," as he lay back.

She took a little of his seed in her fingers. It was goopy and
didn't feel at all like pee. She brought her fingers to her nose
and sniffed, and it was a weird, eerie smell unlike anything
she'd smelled before.

"I don't think I should have done that," said Charles.

"What?"

"Asked you to show me your drawers."

"Why not?" she asked. "You've shown me a lot more than that."

"Yeah, but..." He looked at her. She smiled at him, and he smiled
back.

She rubbed her hand on his chest to clean the goop off. "Bye!"
she said, leaning in and this time kissing him right on the lips,
quickly but not too quickly.

And with that she unlocked the door and tripped up the stairs
with a smile on her face.

---------------------------------------------------------

The next day Catherine had a cold, and she went to visit Charles
for over an hour. She felt his hard penis underneath her some of
the time, but she also knew she could ignore it. He just hugged
her as she cuddled against him, sniffling from time to time.

Then the cold got worse and she was stuck in bed for a week. Her
mother visited now and then, the cook Mrs. Washburn brought her
tea and broth, and the maid Mrs. Dewing saw to her clothing and
sheets. Charles wouldn't normally have visited a sick girl in
bed, but she asked for him. Decorum required that he keep his
visit brief and that they not touch, but she took comfort in his
warm smile.

When she felt well enough to get out of bed, she still didn't
feel very energetic. She went down to see Charles whenever she
could and lazed drowsily in his arms.

It was a full two weeks after their last session together that
Catherine felt truly well again. Suddenly she was full of energy
and mischief.

"Wanna pretend to make a baby?" she said with glee as she bolted
the door behind her.

Charles grinned, then with a more serious expression said, "Only
if you really want to."

She landed in his lap and snuggled close against him, rubbing her
bottom against the lump that rapidly hardened underneath her.

Charles leaned over and kissed her cheek, neck and hair more
tenderly but a little more urgently than he had in the past. He
then tugged gently on her ear with his teeth.

Catherine gave a contented giggle.

He rubbed her shoulders and sides, then wrapped his arms around
her to rub her stomach as well. "You mind if I go a little
higher?" he whispered.

Catherine didn't get what he meant at first, but as she felt his
hands slowly rising from her stomach to her chest she caught on.

"No, silly. You can touch me there." Her chest was nothing
special to her. It hardly mattered that she might grow a bosom
there some day.

But it evidently mattered to Charles, whose hands luxuriously ran
over the fabric of her upper dress, circling and then caressing
the cloth over her tiny nipples. He started slowly thrusting his
hips up and down below her, lifting her in the air an inch each
time. Meanwhile his lips covered her neck and ear and cheek with
kisses.

Catherine felt Charles's desire, felt its animal intensity, and
felt his hot dampness enveloping her from every side. Suddenly it
was too much, and it wasn't fun.

"Stop," she said quietly, and after the briefest of hesitations
Charles pulled back and let her free.

"Sorry," he said. "What happened? Was it too much?"

Catherine saw concern and love on his face. She knew she could
trust him. She could also see frustration just below the surface.

"Why don't you take it out and look at me, like last time." she
said.

"Are you sure, honey?" he said.

"Yes, I'm sure," she said with a big smile.

The sight of his stiff penis thrusting up into his hand was now a
familiar one to her.

"What do you want to see today?" she asked impishly.

"Your feet."

"My feet?"

"Yeah."

"OK." She unbuckled her shoes and pulled off one knee sock.

"Do it a little slower," said Charles, pumping away on his penis,
looking at her with hunger.

So Catherine slowly slid the sock down, paused at her heel to
wiggle her toes, then slowly pulled it all the way off and
wiggled her toes again.

"And your chest? Could you show me your chest? Oh -- if it's not
too much... Please, don't do anything you don't want."

"Why don't you take off all your clothes," said Catherine, who
hadn't seen Charles's bare chest.

"Me?"

"Yes."

"OK," said Charles and shrugged, soon removing his shirt and
undershirt, and socks and shoes before pulling off the trousers
and undergarment that were at his ankles. This let him spread his
legs wide to the sides. Catherine noticed the gray hair on his
chest. But the center of attention remained the stiff penis
sticking right up from his middle. Charles stroked it slowly with
his hand as his hips pressed upward occasionally.

Catherine now slowly unbuttoned the buttons of her dress,
starting at her throat and working down, doing each one with a
little flair. When she'd done four, Charles said, "Can you bend
forward and let me see down the front?"

Catherine did, letting Charles see into the inch of crack between
her chest and the dress, and she was rewarded with a glazed lusty
expression and moan. He was fascinated by her nipples,
apparently, so she pressed her own two hands onto her dress over
where her breasts would grow some day and rubbed.

"Arrrggghh!" choked Charles as his seed spurted. The first blob
shot over his head and hit the wall, making Catherine giggle, the
second landing in the gray hair on his chest, the rest surging
forth and dropping onto his stomach.

Feeling mischievous, she sat down on the bed beside the panting
man, and took a glob of the stuff that had plopped off his penis.
She spread it on his cheeks, which startled him at first, but
then he smiled. She dabbed a little on each of her own cheeks.

"Did you make a happy baby?" she asked with an impish smile.

"Oh, yeah," said Charles. "Oh, yeah, it sure was."

"I want to snuggle now," said Catherine. Charles promptly cleaned
up, sat up and dressed, looking a little groggy, while Catherine
put back on the socks and shoes she had taken off and re-buttoned
her dress.

And Catherine snuggled in Charles's arms, with no hard lump
beneath her, and no hint of anything but the loving acceptance
she always felt from him.

---------------------------------------------------------

As Catherine came in, she gave Charles the impish smile meaning
she was up for some naughty play. "Hi," she said simply. She'd
like to snuggle later, but for now she wanted to revel in
Charles's urgent desires and how she could help satisfy them
today.

Charles looked a little thoughtful. "I've been wanting to ask you
something, but I'm not sure it's a good idea, Catherine. If you
don't like it, just say no and I'll never mention it again."

"OK."

"Your choice. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Well, OK. What would be really exciting for me is to see you
naked -- or at least your, you know, private parts."

"Oh." That was something worth thinking about. It would be
naughty and could be fun, but she also knew she didn't want to do
it. Why?

Charles read her reaction and said, "I'm sorry -- see, I knew I
shouldn't say it. You shouldn't show me one little bit of
yourself you don't want to, OK?"

"Yeah, I know that."

"Forgive me?"

"I don't mind you asked."

But now she didn't feel at all like being naughty or watching
Charles pretend to make a baby. With body language she made her
desire for a cuddle known, and she pressed against him, hungry
for his warmth and love.

Why didn't she want to show him her parts? He'd shown her
everything. She didn't mind showing off her chest or her arms. In
her mind she could be all naked in front of him, except for her
drawers. The problem was right there at her center, where she
peed, where her little slit was. Was she worried he'd touch her
some way? Violate her privacy? No, she knew he'd never do a thing
she didn't want.

The problem was she thought he'd laugh or get grossed out.
Because she didn't think she was normal. Girls had a hole that a
baby's head could come out of, and she didn't have one. That was
her big fear -- being a freak.

Now, she could tell Charles anything. He never laughed at her.
But telling him this was hard. She sat in his embrace for several
minutes as he rocked her.

"I'm afraid I'm not normal," she barely whispered.

"What, my dear? I couldn't hear you," he said kindly.

"I'm afraid I'm not normal."

"Whatever makes you think that? How do you mean?"

"Between my legs."

"I'm sure you're normal."

"How can you know?"

"Well, I can't, it's true, but I have a feeling you're normal.
You seem very normal."

There was a bit of silence, then he continued, "I'll still love
you -- I mean, darn, I don't know -- you'll still be wonderful if
you're not normal too."

Catherine was silent.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't say I love you. That was dumb. I'm very
fond of you and want to be your friend no matter what."

"I think you love me, and I'm happy about it."

"It's not about the penis and the seed either, you know? We could
stop that forever and I'd still love you."

"I know, Charles." And she settled her head against his chest and
smiled deep inside. So she wasn't too nervous when her deep fear
found its voice.

"Women have a hole for babies to come out, right?"

"Right."

"I don't have one."

"You don't?"

"No."

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"Well, there's something there, but it's so tiny a baby could
never get out in a million years."

"I'm not sure that's a problem, but I really don't know."

"Could you look and tell me if I'm normal?" Catherine said it
before she realized how scary an idea it was. But she did trust
him...

"There's a big problem with that."

"What?"

"I've never seen a girl between the legs before, so I couldn't
tell you one way or the other."

"You've never seen a girl there?"

"No."

"What about a woman?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why would I? My sister was older than me, so I never saw her.
And I never could support a family, so I never was with any
women."

"Oh. Even though you're so old?"

"Well, I'm not young, but I've never seen a girl between the
legs. Which is one reason I'd like to -- why I mentioned it, at
least."

Catherine said with some confusion, "Well, OK, you can see then."

But Charles said, "No, not yet. I have an idea."

---------------------------------------------------------

Catherine snuggled back against Charles's chest.

"I have good news for you, Miss Catherine my love."

"What?"

"You're normal."

"Huh? How do you know?"

"I asked my sister."

"You told her about me?" Catherine asked, alarmed.

"No, no, nothing to do with you in particular. I just admitted my
innocence about stuff between men and women, and after a bunch of
other questions, I asked about girls and baby holes. And she said
that all little girls have tiny holes you could barely fit a
little finger into, and that they get much bigger when the girl
grows up -- a much greater increase than the amount her body gets
bigger. And then when a woman gets pregnant, it gets even bigger
and gets stretchy. And then, she told me, it's a very, very tight
fit and the baby's head kind of gets squished coming out. So it
all works out."

"Oh," said Catherine, smiling, absorbing the information. She was
normal after all! After a moment, she said, "Do you still want to
see me down there? As part of your education?"

Charles smiled. "Well, if you don't mind, I guess I would -- I
know I would."

"OK" said Catherine, jumping up and taking off her shoes and
socks quickly.

"But can we make it like a little ceremony? I mean, not just
whipping them off."

"OK, what do you mean?"

"I'll turn my back, and you take off your drawers and then lie
down with your dress on. How's that?"

So this wasn't just a lesson about what girls' private parts are
like. Charles was thinking about making babies again, but
Catherine liked that idea today.

"Sure!"

So as Catherine lay on her back with her legs apart a little,
Charles, still fully dressed, gently slid her dress up to her
knees. Then he slid it a little higher, Inch by inch the dress
went up, while Catherine watched Charles's face. She smiled
because he looked like he was in church  -- reverent, that was
the word. When at last her little slit came into view, he stopped
and looked, transfixed. Then he moved his head down to get a
closer look.

"It's so, so beautiful!" he said.

Catherine giggled. It was just her body. But it also felt good to
know he thought she was special down there.

"Could you show me inside?" he asked. "Slowly, OK?"

So with one hand on either side of her slit, Catherine very
slowly pulled outward.

"Wow," he said, still solemn. "I see the tiny hole where the
urine comes out. And this other place -- that must be the hole
for babies." He paused a moment. "And penises."

Catherine felt a brief little thrill. She did have a hole for
babies, and of course first a penis had to go in before a baby
could come out. And although it was hard to believe, some day
she'd want a man to put his penis in there, and he would, and
stuff would spurt up into her so she could have a baby. And here
was Charles, a man, looking at this little hole so reverently.
She'd seen his penis many times, seen it hard and thrusting
upward, just like it would to get into a woman's body to start
her baby. She'd seen his urgency and total pleasure as he shot
the stuff out. At some level she knew he wanted to stick his
penis into her even now.

"But not yet, right?" she said.

"Oh, of course not," he said quickly. "Of course not yet. Not for
a long time, when you find a man to marry."

Catherine smiled with relief.

"But... Can I look at you while I pretend to make a baby?"

"Sure," grinned Catherine.

So Charles pulled down his clothes to expose his hard penis, but
for the first time he stayed kneeling instead of lying back on
the bed. His eyes stayed riveted to her little girl parts as she
held herself open, and it seemed just seconds later that he
groaned and she was aware of his seed surging out. He had his
other hand over the tip of his penis, though, so instead of
shooting out onto Catherine's dress or the sheets, he corralled
it with that hand, which quickly became a sticky mess.

"Oh, Catherine," he moaned. "That was amazing."

And Catherine felt profoundly happy, helping this man who she
loved feel so much pleasure. She had that power.

============================================================
End of Part 1 of 2.  What did you think? I'm always eager for
comments, whether positive, negative or mixed. Comments to
sterling27@live.com.