Message-ID: <7818eli$9804132325@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com
Subject: {SJR}"The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane 06C"( bf mF mF+ )[21/52]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Note: This message was posted by a secure email service. Please report MISUSE OR ABUSE of this automated secure email service to <abuse@anon.nymserver.com>.
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <6gpmch$ivp$1@sparky.wolfe.net>
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
comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories
itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way
to encourage them to continue entertaining you.
The copyright of this story belong to the author, and the fact of this
posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in
any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright
below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as
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 6C:
That night we walked through light drizzle all the way to the
Warner's on Main Street and saw "The High and the Mighty." The
minute the film was over, I knew I'd go back to see it again and
again.
"Oh, my," Martha Jane said as we rose from our seats to leave.
"That was pretty schmaltzy, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, it was. Schmaltzy. That's what makes a great movie."
"You just say that because John Wayne was in it and he saved the
airplane."
"But that's what schmaltz is," I insisted.
We had been sitting near the screen. As we turned to go out,
we were confronted with a thick crowd moving at a snail's pace.
"It'll take forever to get out of here, Speedy."
"Don't worry. Follow me." I led her on a detour down one of
the side aisles where I pushed down the handle on a black-painted
door that was difficult to see. It opened into an empty alley that
led to the main street.
She said, "Hey, I'm glad I decided to bring you with me."
Outside, the drizzle had grown into light rain. I walked
out into it. "It's like Gene Kelly in "Singin' in the Rain", I
said, holding out my arms.
"You won't start tap dancing, will you? Speedy, get under
the umbrella with me. You'll get soaked."
I walked ahead of her. "But I want to. It's drama, it's
Hollywood. It's schmaltz."
"It's insanity."
I stayed ahead of her, getting wetter by the minute. Now and
then I'd look back at her, a few yards behind me under her um-
brella. "Come on, Scarlett! Where's your sense of adventure?"
"It's right here under my umbrella."
A man in a rain coat and rainhat passed me on the sidewalk going
the other way. He looked at me, and I gave him a silly smile. Then
he looked at Martha Jane behind me, who strained to give him a
perfectly normal smile.
She called out to me, "People are staring at youuuu."
"Martha Jane, honey," I said cockily. "This is my night. I just
got that feelin', baby. It's like...like money from home. Like,
nothin' can stop me now."
"Pneumonia will stop you. Hon, you've seen too many movies."
"Look!" I exclaimed, and stopped short. I pointed across the
street at the Memphis Light, Gas and Water office building. Built
in the 1920's, it was famous for its thousands of 60-watt electric
bulbs that lined the frontage and the entrance marquis. Onto the
sidewalk they cast a strong yellow light that shimmered in the rain
and glowed as brightly as the bulbs themselves. "Look at that! It
looks just like the ending of the movie tonight. Remember John
Wayne whistling at the end, and walking down the sidewalk with all
the yellow lights?"
She looked at me sternly and said, "No."
"C'mon, let's walk in the yellow light."
"Get under the umbrella," she said, harder now.
"But what's wrong with me doin' it myself?"
"Because," she said, louder and upset now, "I'm wearing a wool
sweater and it'll get wet and ruined and I can't afford another one!
Now get under here with me and stop making me so angry with you!"
Surprised, I walked to her. She scowled angrily and started
walking toward home. For a tense moment we didn't say anything. I
took the umbrella, offering to hold it for her, and she smiled
tightly and said, "Thank you, you're a gentleman," and we walked
under the umbrella together. I looked at her. She looked straight
ahead and wouldn't look at me. After a minute she took my arm and
put hers through it.
"It wasn't you," she said. "It was me. Some things just remind
me that I'm poor. I've worked so hard. And I wear the same sweater
for six years, and the same shoes, and borrow clothes from more
fortunate girls with more money so I can look for work. And all I
do is work and I'm still not out of it. And I don't have a job and
I looked for one all week. But I won't quit school to take a
full-time job. I applied for a job yesterday and the guy, the boss,
he had me in his office talking to me and he started telling me
about how demanding the job was, how there was all this clerical
work and he said I could have it but I'd probably have to cut some
of my classes if I wanted the work because it took so-and-so many
hours a week. Well...I told him there was no chance I'd quit any
of my classes, and he said, well, he could make a little deal. A
little deal, he said. There would be a little something extra,
after hours, and he could pay me for it. He could pay me a lot for
it, he said. And the way he was looking at me...He knew I was
desperate. He could tell I needed the job. So he was going to
make me a little deal. A little after hours deal. Oh, Speedy,
sometimes I hate being pretty. I hate being trapped. Evelyn's
getting successful now, people are finding out how good she is at
her job, and when a man looks at her like that and wants to make a
little deal she can just tell him to shove it. I can't do that
yet. I can't say that without losing out. So I passed it up.
I told him thanks but no thanks. And I walked out. But I didn't
want to say thanks -- I wanted to say 'shove it, mister'. I
didn't even get that much satisfaction out of it. All I could do
was walk away from it and just forget about it."
I didn't know what to say, so I walked with her silently and
put my hand on the arm she had locked in mine.
"I'm getting too desperate. I want it too much. I have to stop
wanting it so much. You were having such a good time and I don't
often see you feeling that good. I didn't mean to stop you. I
might have even been...a little jealous, seeing you let go and
watching you say 'screw you' to the world."
She simmered down and walked silently for a moment.
"Hey," I said. "I've got a Hank Williams album at home my Aunt
Frances bought me."
She smirked at me. "Well, you certainly know how to change the
subject, don't you? You don't fool around."
I shrugged. "I guess you said what you wanted to say."
She hugged me. "You know something? You're a pretty cool guy.
I kinda like you."
I winked at her.
She winked back. "So, you want to play Hank Williams and turn
out the lights and watch the rain?"
"Sounds nice."
"You, uh, wanna do it nekkid?"
I looked at her, then cleared my throat. I blushed.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Oh, don't tell me I embarrassed
you! Oh my lord, you have to be kidding! "
"I kinda thought, after the story you just told me..."
"I was talking about a greaser who was taking advantage of me
and girls like me. He had an office full of them, all practically
the same age. I wasn't talking about you. You're different.
We're different. You know that."
I shook my head. "Maybe I'm too young. Sometimes girls are,
uh, verrry mysterious."
"You don't seem to have a problem understanding me...most of
the time."
"Most of the time," I said.
"Okay. We'll go home. Turn out the lights. Play Hank
Williams. Get nekkid. And I'll tell you all you want to know
about 'us girls'."
"Deal," I said.
Sometime later, Martha Jane and I lay nude together in her
apartment, listening to the rain patter against her bedroom window.
The Hank Williams album had long since been played and replayed, and
she had explained to me a great deal about women, and different
kinds of women, and girls, and the way she thought about sex and
boys when she was my own age. Then she wanted to know about boys;
specifically, she wanted to know about me; and more specifically she
wanted to know exactly what it was I liked best when she sucked me,
and after I told her she did it exactly that way. She did it so well
that I began feeling the now-familiar tightening and the pleasure
pangs and the lusty itch and told her I was starting to cum and that
she had to be careful because I was going to cum in her mouth if she
didn't stop. Rather than stop, she kept sucking with a sweet
vengeance until she felt the first spurt. Then she slowed, tanta-
lizing me, and in my dim state of consciousness as I emptied my bag
of cum into her mouth I heard her gulp and swallow until I fell back
and lay still. With her hands and lips she drained all of me into
her and then lay beside me while I recovered.
"So," she said, "now you know another way to cum."
"I didn't think you wanted to swallow it."
"Some girls don't. I never sucked that boyfriend I told
you about. But I wanted to now because it was you. Your cum."
"Oh, yeah," I murmured, "your boyfriend."
"Don't be jealous, hon, I don't see him anymore."
"Did you and him...?"
"Yes. Not very often. And I made him use a rubber, and I
hated it." She laid a gentle hand on my arm. "Don't worry about
him. It wasn't at all the way it is with you and me. And I love
your dick without a rubber, it feels good inside me and it tastes
good sucking you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, dummy."
"I thought I was finished cummin', but when I heard you swallow
I sort of starting all over again."
"Is that what it was? I thought it ended, too, and then you
squirted more."
Not to be outdone, I told her there was still more I wanted to
know about women. Specifically, about her. Specifically, about her
most pleasurable spots and how she liked being licked. Another half
hour went by as she spread her legs and educated me in the details
of her nipples and tummy and thighs and cunt. She was much better
at explaining the technical details than I was at explaining my own,
though at one point she had to make me stop. I asked her why and
she said, "It's so intense, I thought I was going crazy. Hon, you're
getting so terribly good at this!" After she rested she asked me to
keep going and explained more to me, although at times she was so
breathless I had trouble understanding her. Eventually her sentences
made very little sense and she stiffened and quivered with a long cum.
She explained the differences between how it felt when I made
her cum manually or orally, and how her outer lips were especially
sensitive right after she came, so since I was hard I entered her
and we started fucking slowly and she told me how wonderful it felt
to fuck after she had just cum. She asked if it felt different for
me, now that I'd already cum once, and I said it felt more sensitive
but that I also felt more in control. So we practiced learning how
we could tell when either of us would start cumming and how to stop
it but keep the pleasure going until we were ready to start again.
Both of us started a long climb that took us to an edge where we
didn't want to stop and couldn't, and I started squirting in her
when she was in the middle of her cum and her contractions milked me
so thoroughly that I didn't want to move when it was over. For a
long time we held each other until she said she had to get her
little blue bag and go in the bathroom. This time I didn't mention
rubbers, knowing how much she disliked them.
When she came out she said she was okay and asked if I wanted to
fuck again. It took a while to harden me, which she did with her
mouth and then by putting me half-hard inside her and moving under
me. Less urgent and hysterical now, we were both almost clinical as
we talked and excited each other. When I was hard enough I screwed
her the way she told me she liked, bringing her to an edge and then
changing my movements to slow her down, until finally she said she
wanted to cum, so I moved in her the way she wanted and didn't stop
until she came. I let her rest a minute and started again, keeping
her on the edge, and finally she came again and almost fainted. I
was thoroughly drained by then and didn't cum, though I was close a
few times and highly sensitized. At that point I needed rest more
than I needed another orgasm.
For a while we talked sleepily, listening to the rain that still
slopped outside the window. She put her head on my chest and I
found out how to massage her temples with my thumbs. I caressed her
that way until I knew she was asleep. Watching her doze on me was a
marvel. Filled with tenderness, I continued stroking and touching
her, finding the exact shape of her gentle shoulders and her back,
playing in her hair, learning the wonder of the hollows and curves
of her trim waist and flared hips. Her deep and steady breathing
became my music for the night, along with the waning rain. I didn't
want to fall asleep right away. I wanted to keep holding her and
listening. I wanted the night to go on. I considered staying awake
all night and would not allow myself to fall asleep; this would make
the night last longer, I reasoned, and by morning it wouldn't matter.
But I was asleep before I knew it. I found myself in the middle
of the universe again. I was floating. Somewhere in the distance I
heard the hum, almost imperceptibly, and I thought this time I would
wake up and pay attention and I would know what it was. But then
the dark that had no shape began changing and not changing shape and
I thought: no no here it comes again --
I was standing in her kitchen. Panting. I gulped, trying to
figure out how I got there. Behind me I heard her bare feet running
toward the room. She whispered frantically, "Where are you?
Speedy, where did you go?"
Turning, I saw her arrive in the doorway, and then she came
toward me quickly. I stumbled to her and as soon as I felt her
nakedness against me I clasped her tightly and wanted to disappear
into her breasts.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong? You almost knocked me off the bed,
you jumped out and ran so fast! I never saw anyone run so fast!"
"I dreamed this before," I gasped.
"Of course you were dreaming, hon, of course. Are you okay now?"
"I dreamed this before," I repeated, I held more tightly. One
hand at her back, my other held her by her smoothly globed buttocks
and pressed her into me voraciously. She reciprocated and writhed
into me. Her pliant body fit into me as if her flesh and bones were
part of mine. My cock was incredibly hard against her pubic hair.
"Hon, your heart's beating so fast! What's wrong?"
"I had this dream before," was all I could say. I let go of her
and pulled her by the hand and led her back into the bedroom. "I'm
okay, I'm...waking up. I'm okay." Still holding her hand I gest-
ured for her to climb in, and when she was in the bed on her back I
pulled her knees wide and opened her legs and fell on her, clasping
her as tightly as before, my face in her neck, mashing her tight
breasts against me. Frantically, realizing I had little control
over what I was doing and that it may have been part of the dream, I
searched for her with my cock, which was painfully erect.
"You want me hon?" she asked. "Want me? Wait...let me get
wet." She licked her palm and I felt her rub herself with it but
I knew that wouldn't make her wet enough so I scooted down and
licked her--slowly, thinking that she'd get naturally wetter if I
did it the way she liked, and after only a few seconds she said,
"Good, hon. Hurry inside me."
I moved up again, quickly, lunging with my cock and missing.
Her hand helped, and I went straight in. Doing something I had
never done before and had never thought of doing, I put my hands
under her butt and hid my face in her neck and fucked her
rapidly, deeply, hungrily. She said "Yes, hon, it's good, it's
good," and right away I came. It was not a long or a very wet cum,
but it was blindingly intense and as always she milked me with her
cunt when she felt me throb in her.
Then I simply lay gasping on her, afraid to let go, amazed at
how I had just fucked her so thoroughly and completely and quickly.
She caressed my neck and back.
"What was wrong?" she whispered.
"I don't know what it is," I moaned into her neck.
"But what did you dream, hon?"
"I don't know what it is," I said again.
"Are you okay now?"
"Yes. I came in you. You'd better go in the bathroom." I
started to move for her, but she stopped me.
"No. Not until you're asleep again."
"I'm okay, go ahead."
"Shhh. I won't leave you in here alone." She put a hand on
my back and one on my rear and pressed me into the pliant, warm,
clinging length of her and squeezed her cunt on me. Then she
rested and held me.
I more than slept: I fell unconscious. I woke much later as
the birds were just beginning to sing in the dark. Their song
meant the sun would rise soon. The rain had stopped. Martha Jane
lay next to me on her side, one arm around my waist. Her face was
toward mine, eyes closed, lips softly parted, hair splayed on the
pillow. I kissed her cheek very lightly, not wanting to disturb her.
Faintly I could smell her body on me and felt her dried moisture
between my legs. I put my hand on her waist and slept again.
In the morning we woke and bathed together and I made breakfast
again. As we ate I was unable to explain my dream to her, though I
tried. She got dressed and went to the supermarket and I went to my
apartment and got my bed ready for her. Late in the morning she
returned and we got back into bed, this time at my place. She
grinned as we embraced and said, "We owe the old place one more try
before you're gone." I was still a little tired and she wanted to
talk about my dream, but I stopped her by fingerfucking her until
she had a prolonged orgasm during which her hot and frantic whispers
never stopped. Then she was very tired, and we rested and made
lunch, then got back into bed and napped for half an hour. We got
up and bathed again. Though still tired, I asked if we could fuck
again and she smiled and led me back to bed. Languidly she lay back
with her thighs spread flat and watched me as I steadily fucked her.
I wanted to learn more about how I could tell I'd be cumming. I
stroked lazily in her until I tired again, but I still didn't cum.
She moved me to the edge of the bed and lay on top of me, moving
gently on me, first in circles for a while and then up and down until
she was tired as well. Having her on top left me more rested and
very erect and horny, so I moved her to her back on the edge of the
bed and with her legs dangling to the floor I stood between her
thighs and found the bed just high enough to let me stand and enter
her deeply.
She lay restfully and looked down to watch, one hand behind her
head and the other stroking the exposed part of my shaft. I stood
between her outstretched legs, marveling at how the skin of her inner
thighs now had a tight, athletic tone and flesh that whispered faintly
as I stood and pistoned gently in her snug wetness and watched her
subtly arch her mound up and down. Finally, almost out of breath, I
could feel my shaft start twitching.
She asked, "Are you close?"
"...Yes..."
"Wait," she said, smiling devilishly. She held my hips to make
me stop thrusting and then she sat up a little, saying "I've always
wanted to do this." Biting her lip girlishly, she looked into my
eyes and held my half-immersed shaft with one hand and with her
other fingers she pressed the muscles under my balls.
"Cum in me this way, hon," she said. "Let me jack you off
into me." With that, she began gently but quickly masturbating
me with half my cock in her.
All I could do was throw my head back and moan.
Her breasts jiggled as she swiftly but neatly jacked me off
with three slender fingers while rapturously studying my face.
"Oh, I"m...Oh, it's so close!"
"hon...I can't believe how wonderfully wicked this feels."
She jacked me some more, not strongly, just enough to carry me
along an almost painfully slow, irresistible glide into a long and
libidinous cum, which finally arrived with a smashing wave of sensa-
tion at the tip of my cock where the wet ring of her outer lips held
me and warmly, subtly clung; my knees weakened and bent, and uncon-
trollably I leaned back with my cock and hips extended toward her,
my tummy tightening. I watched helplessly as my knees moved out and
spread my thighs lewdly; and with a jerk of my hips a blob of cum
shot out of me like a bullet.
She felt it pulse along my shaft.
"There, baby, theeerrrr...mmm, you're cummin' so good, hon...
...Mmm!" She beamed up at me, surprise and lust flooding her face.
She gently squeezed my balls. "I feel it," she murmured glutton-
ously, highly satisfied with herself. She watched my cock and
continued draining me. "This is so good."
Soon she could tell from my glazed eyes and the weakening of my
throbs that I had peaked, so she slowed her smooth squeezing and
stroked my chest as I finished.
Then I collapsed on her. I was emptied, and completely out of
breath.
She gave a low chuckle as I rested, still standing but bent over
her with my face in her neck as she lay on the bed with her legs
hanging over the side.
She said, "Hey, you animal, you really liked that, didn't you?"
I nodded, struggling to get my breath.
She chuckled again, contentedly. "Oh my, so did I. I was so
surprised at myself!"
I panted into her neck, "You always...make it feel so good."
She whispered, "Yes, and I want to, because you make it good for
me. You always do--it's like a fuck fantasy come true. It's very
special, the way we please each other, the way you always seem to
just...know."
I craned my neck and gave her a long kiss on the cheek.
By that afternoon, when we started straightening up for the
return of our relatives, both of us were saying we probably wouldn't
want to have another orgasm for months.
Of course, we were both wrong about that.
Continued...
====================================
THE ADVENTURES OF ME AND MARTHA JANE
by S.J.R.
PART 6C
-30-
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |