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Subject: {SJR}"The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane 03C"( bf mF mF+ )[7/52]
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The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. Caveat lector; you read at your own
risk.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked
the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a
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well.
This particular series is by Santo J. Romeo. That might even be his
real name. The version that I have copied used his initials, and I have
followed suit. It is more a tragic story of coming of age than simply a
sex story, and individual segments might not contain any sex. The entire
story, however, is a hot one.
========
**** WARNING **** WARNING **** WARNING ****
THIS DOCUMENT IS A SEXUALLY GRAPHIC STORY ABOUT AN INTENSE SEXUAL,
EMOTIONAL AND INTELLECTUAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN A TEENAGE GIRL AND
A YOUNG BOY AND THE COURSE OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP OVER A PERIOD OF
10 YEARS. IT IS A DRAMATIZATION ABOUT REAL PEOPLE AND THEIR CON-
FLICT WITH SOCIAL EXPECTATIONS. IF THIS SUBJECTS OFFENDS YOU OR IF
SEXUAL LANGUAGE UPSETS YOU, OR IF YOU DON'T WANT THIS MATERIAL SEEN
BY UNDER-18 OR OTHERWISE UNQUALIFIED PERSONS, DELETE THIS DOCUMENT.
THIS DOCUMENT IS COPYRIGHTED 1994, 1996 BY SJR. SO--HEY, YOU CAN
COPY IT BUT YOU CAN'T CHANGE IT OR SELL IT UNLESS I SAY SO.
====================================
THE ADVENTURES OF ME AND MARTHA JANE
by S.J.R.
sjr <73233.1411@CompuServe.COM>
============
PART 3C:
At the time, most of this went right past my very young level
of awareness--but I clearly understood that she was troubled. I
knew that I somehow had to stay with her and believe in her and
help her in some way. I wanted to bring indescribable pleasure and
comfort to her. She was making me feel loved and tickly now, and
I wanted desperately to do the same for her. I found the folds of
her skirt and tried to gather them up, but had a hard time; my
hands were too small. She stepped back, not letting go of my cock,
and used her free hand to lift her skirt. She spread her feet
apart and looked down while I massaged her mound over her panties.
"Ah, hon," she breathed. "You remembered just exactly how I
like you to do that."
As she had done, I slipped my hand under her waistband and
found her pubic hair and her soft folds. She was not wet yet.
But she moved one foot to open her legs more so I could find her
crease.
I whispered, "I want to make you feel good." Now I hoped I was
learning to talk to her as she talked to me. I was beginning to
comprehend the nature of my own very young sensuality, realizing how
so much of it was mirrored by Martha Jane, and learning to try and
contact those elements within her. I was not yet very certain about
any of it. But now I had glimmerings of the giddy adrenal rush gen-
erated by the allure of the forbidden that held us and our secret
world together. And I was beginning to understand as well the para-
doxical, inexplicable comfort we both experienced by giving in to,
rather than resisting, our hunger. In short, I was getting older
and more sexual, and I realized more than ever how complex were the
emotional and physical needs that bound us. It was scary. It was a
lot like rushing blind across the avenue the way I used to, traffic
headed at me in all six lanes, not sure if or how I could make it
safely to the other side--but knowing, from where I stood at that
moment, I would not and could not run back.
Martha Jane moved her head slightly, toward me. Her lips
touched my ear. Her mouth opened and I heard the thin saliva break
as she licked my earlobe. And then my neck. Under one hand I felt
the skin on the back of her neck move and flex as she reached
farther with her tongue and licked behind my ear, then down, then
into my neck again. Under my other hand, she was getting wet.
She pulled her head back, smiling and looking down to watch my
hand working between her legs in the dark. She spread her knees
apart a little more. She softly hissed, "Put your finger in me..."
I found her hot opening, now growing wetter, and slowly inserted
what came to me naturally--my longest finger. She urged quietly,
"All the way in, hon, deep..." Her eyes closed as she sighed a
trembling, breathy "Aaahh..."
"Like that?"
"Yes, baby."
I flexed my finger in her. I never ceased to be amazed at
the way the inner Martha Jane could suck on my fingers in her.
"Did that feel good?"
"Bend your finger again, inside...Yes...keep doing that..."
We continued for a while, but it soon became uncomfortable
standing up. She broke away and got undressed. Before climbing in-
to bed she removed my tshirt and underwear and had me sit up against
a pillow that she placed against the headboard. Then, naked in the
moonlight, she lay before me on her tummy with her head in my lap
and started sucking me. She sucked gently, wetly, slowly, immersing
me in her very hot mouth and holding me there. Then slowly she
withdrew, sucking upward, and came off me with a loud swallow of the
wetness she had re-sucked off me, and sighed lasciviously. "You
feel so good in my mouth. You fit all the way inside."
She licked her lips and sucked me again in the same way, gently
but fully, flattening her tongue along the underside and pressing
slightly, then started bobbing her head slowly and rhythmically.
I was amazed and hypnotized. I began to be aware of her physical
beauty and the depths of the desperate lust that lurked in both of
us, there in the dim shaft of light that fell across her naked back
as she licked and sucked.
She stopped and asked, "Do you know what I'm doing?"
I just stared at her. Of course I knew what she was doing,
though she had never done it so gluttonously. But I didn't know
what it was called.
"I'm suckin' you off. Do you like it when I say that?"
Once again, her eyes had a strange glint and her voice sounded
inordinately wicked.
"Yes," I whispered back, suddenly realizing how breathless I
was. And I was doing some hard, nervous swallowing of my own.
"You know I do. Especially the way you do it." I was truly
flabbergasted that there were so many ways to bring pleasure to
each other.
She returned to her sucking, which she continued for quite
some time, breaking to gently fist my wetted cock. The cloying
sensuality of her motions and words caused me to make what I know
to be a seriously wicked grin as I watched her pump me. "That's
good," I whispered.
She looked up. "Yeah?" She grinned back.
I grinned again too, into her eyes. "Yeah. Keep doin' it."
"Yeah, honey."
"Ah..."
"Feel it, baby...enjoy it..."
And once again, her eyes and her words and her voice held me
mesmerized. She herself seemed hypnotized by my own spellbound
reaction. We fell into unalloyed devilishness, as if demons within
us had generated a chain reaction neither of us could not stop. She
wouldn't let up. The lust in her eyes and her voice met mine, mine
met hers, and they fused. We were glued to it, tangled it in. I
kept hearing the nuns and the aunts and relatives warning me, but
all their screaming voices together could not drown the tantalizing
whispers of Martha Jane. And the more my eyes lit up with pleasure,
the more Martha Jane saw it and gloated on it.
She gave a low, dirty chuckle and breathed, "You like it. You
like being like this with me." She kept looking into my eyes,
directly into them, into my cornea and through the optic nerves
and into my brain. As she wetly stroked my twitching cock I heard
only the wet slush of her hand in the hot spit she had left on me,
and her endless, libidinous whispers. "You like it just as much as
I do, don't you, I can tell. I like it too. I like watching your
face while I make you feel good. I love your dick. I love
touching it. I love milking it, and sucking..." She pumped and
then sucked and then pumped me again. I was feeling extremely
strange and giddy and I knew she did too. A dark wicked wave seemed
to wash into the room and lick me squarely in the scrotum under my
balls, then lick upward along my spine and settle in the back of my
head. I could see the reflection of these new and growing impulses
in her own eyes, I could hear her voice echoing my own rising
lechery. We fed it, and fed on it, helpless in the dark and the
moonlight. She fisted me loosely now, looking up at me. Distinctly
I felt and saw her own eyes catch the glint of lust in mine, and she
leered and fisted and kept whispering. "I feel you liking it, I
feel you jumpin' in my hand. Such a beautiful, hard, sweet little
cock. It gets so big. How does it get so big from being so little?"
"I like you making it big," I managed to whisper back, but
only after fighting for the breath to say it. I took a deep
breath and gasped brazenly, "I like watching you watch me."
Her eyes rose, surprised and please that I was joining her
in this hypnotic whirl. "I'm so glad you like this. Want me
to suck you some more?"
"Yes, it feels so good."
"I want to suck you and I want you to fingerfuck me, like
last time."
Uh-oh! A new term in the ever-expanding lexicon. I was taken
by surprise. Another Martha Jane word. At that point I somehow
knew there would be an explanation forthcoming. Contented, and
learning for the first time what the word "turn-on" would later come
to mean, I let her suck me and we continued our lurid whispers and
glances. Of course, I did not cum. This was fortunate, in a way,
since literally I didn't know what I was missing. But at one point
a pang of sensual tickling shot through the length of my shaft, and
I felt an oozing from me that mixed with her spit and slickened it.
I wondered if that meant I was cumming.
But the feeling passed too quickly for me to stop and ask
questions about it. For Martha Jane had risen to a half-sitting
position beside me, her head against the headboard. Her left leg
lay on the mattress between us, bent at the knee toward me so her
inner thigh was spread to expose her slit; and she bent her right
knee upward, keeping her foot on the bed, using her heel to spread
her right leg wide and exposing even more of her nakedness. She
shoved her hips forward so that I, lying beside her, could fully see
her auburn tuft and the widening, smooth-lipped slit below. With
one hand she spread the silken hair that partly covered her, and
wantonly instructed me on how to touch her clit and how to insert my
finger and how to search far up inside her and find a magic bundle
of muscle and nerve that made her arch her hips and sigh lustily and
made her nipples swell in my mouth, and she looked down, leering
and watching me please her and holding herself open for me, telling
me this was her cunt, and she said that when she felt really nasty
as she did now that she wanted me to call it her cunt, and as I
pulled her clit and stroked the tender place far inside her wetness,
her words and her voice and her sighs slid into a barely audible
stream of hissed obscenities.
And I remembered doing this to her before and making her cum,
but now I knew she wanted me to call it fingerfucking and that she
liked the word and so did I, and she liked me watching her on her
side with one leg bent between us and the other with one knee raised
and resting spread away from her so that she could use the leverage
of that leg to raise her cunt toward me and we could watch me
fingerfuck her, and she liked watching while I did it, and her
raised knee soon fell and she dropped back into the pillows and
spread herself flat and gave herself over to the long cum that
seemed to be on its way, and for a long while she simply lay and
enjoy it and sucked on my finger in her. And finally I gave her the
smashing, paralyzing orgasm she wanted, her head pressed far into
the pillow and her neck straining, her arms and legs stiffened
against the white sheets and her nipples jutting upward as she
threw her head back and suffered silently the sweet agony I was
giving her, taut and stiff for what seemed to me a perilously long
time. Her hips gave a slight jerk, and I expected her to slide into
her swooning relaxed state, but instead her head snapped farther
back into the pillow and her teeth showed in the dark and she
whimpered "Oh!" in sudden surprise, and then "Ah!" and she came
again, again, again as I moved my fingers in the way I knew was just
right for her, never for a moment wanting to lose my way in giving
her pleasure, caring for her, protecting her in her utter nakedness,
striving to make it perfect and right for her. And finally, with a
great sigh and a whimper that I know could be heard out in the dark
street beyond our window, she relaxed with a final lurch of her
hips, and began breathing in waves, then breathing regularly and
deeply, and she made the same sounds she made when she cried, but
now they were sounds of exhaustion and release.
I licked her nipple, my soaked hands now lightly massaging her
outer lips and inner thighs, and she put a hand on my arm and cried,
"so good!", and on reaching down to touch my cock she found wetness
there, a smear from inside me, and she opened her eyes and looked at
me and then looked at my cock and reached down and kissed the tip,
moaning "oh your cum, your sweet cum!" She licked it off me and it
tickled terribly and I felt deep in my balls the oozing of another
smear, which she milked out of me with a long slow pull upward on my
dick, and she licked that off too with tender relish, as if even the
smallest beginnings of my cumming were as precious as water to a
parched throat. And then, out of breath and with a final gasp, she
literally fell into me and hugged me and held on and went straight
to sleep.
We slept like that for a while, with her splayed over me as
if knocked unconscious. She awoke with a start and looked at the
clock. "Darn!" she whispered frantically, "they'll be coming home!"
Quickly she dressed. As she did, she caught me smiling at her
from my pillow and she told me, "Speedy, you are remarkable. My
god, I wish I could tell someone about this. They'd never believe
me..." She looked at me as if she were in shock. "How do you do
this to me? Where did you learn to do this?"
"Do what?" I asked, truly puzzled.
"You know what I'm talkin' about," she scolded midly, hopping
a little to get her shoes on. She sat on the floor and tied her
laces. "You made cum in my mouth, too, didn't you?"
"I...think so."
"Listen," she said earnestly, finishing her shoes and getting
up to bend over me. "I want you to grow up and cum. I can't keep
doing this all by myself. Do you have any idea what you just did
to me?" She gathered up the wads of kleenex and started straight-
ening the place quickly, mumbling, "I didn't even know anything
like this was possible. Where in the world did you learn how to do
it like that?"
"You taught me," I said.
She caught herself, pausing as if startled, and went back to
her hurried straightening. "I'm just talking, hon. You go to
sleep. Your Mama will be home soon."
She returned to the living room and her books. The light in
there snapped on. I rolled over and looked out the window. I did
not understand the significance of this nor the problems it would
cause later. But I had experienced an unusually intense level of
eroticism which I feared and yet didn't fear, something apparently
as new and exotic to her as it was to me.
====================================
THE ADVENTURES OF ME AND MARTHA JANE
by S.J.R.
sjr <73233.1411@CompuServe.COM>
============
PART 3C
-30-
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