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.