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From: Erotales <Erotales@aol.com>
Subject: "Diana," by Erotales (bondage, sort of nc)
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****

Story: "Diana" by Erotales (bondage, sort of nc, teen F/older m,
probably not what you'd expect)

This is a work entirely of fiction. It shouldn't be read by anybody
under 18 or taken seriously by anyone who does read it. Send comments
to Erotales@aol.com.

			       DIANA
Dear God:

I need some help here.

I'm sorry that it's been so long since I've been to church, and I know 
how it looks if somebody ignores You for years and then gets in trouble
and runs to You for help, but I promise. . . oh, well, I suppose You've
heard that before from a lot of people.

I know You know what happened, but I want to go through the whole story
from the beginning, like a confessional, which I guess it is. Plus I
have such a hard time believing it happened that retelling it will make
it seem more real. I need a good reality check.

It all started four months ago. Really it started five years ago, but
the part that's tearing me apart started four months ago.

I had finally gotten enough time off from work so I could go visit Perry
and Jessica. Our families had been so close back when we lived next door
to each other, but then there was the divorce, and I moved out and got
the new job 1000 miles away. I guess I would have gone back sooner, but
the bad memories of the break-up were too strong. I hadn't really had a
good excuse to go back, but I did keep in touch with Perry, mostly
Christmas cards every year, and I was glad when he came up with the idea
of a weekend hunting trip.

I got there on a late Friday afternoon. Perry was home alone, as Jessica
was up at the high school retrieving Diana from cheerleading practice.
We shook hands awkwardly, and then he said "Oh, hell" (sorry, just
quoting) and grabbed me in a bear-hug. We started trying to catch up on
five years of activities just as Jessica drove up in the minivan. She
honked as she pulled in the driveway.

Diana jumped out on the passenger side. I was just amazed. I thought I'd
mentally prepared myself; I knew she was 15 now, but I hadn't seen her
since she was 10 and I still somehow expected her to look that way.
Another part of me was expecting an alienated teenager, with a curled
lip, rolling eyes, and total disdain for anything another generation
might say to her. I've seen enough of that, but Diana seemed to be the
same sweet, friendly kid she'd always been. She ran over to me, caroling
"Hey, Uncle Denny," and threw her arms around me with a bit more abandon
than Perry had. I'd always been "Uncle Denny," just like her dad was
"Uncle Perry" to my own kids. I gave her a quick hug, marveling that she
seemed to be about five-foot-four, at least a foot taller than the last
time I'd seen her and even a little taller than her mother, who now gave
me a quick hug herself, a peck on the cheek and a cheery, "Hi, Denny,
how've you been?" I tried to maintain two or three conversations at once
as we walked towards the house. To Diana I said, "I hear you're a
cheerleader now."

"Yeah, I *love* it." She pirhouetted as she modelled her uniform. "The
first game is next Friday. Can you stay that long?"

"I don't think so. I'll only be able to stay a couple of days. Maybe you
could make a videotape and send it to me."

"Oh, yeah. Were you going to take the camcorder, Dad?" She turned to him
with a pleading look.

"Sure. We need to send one to your grandparents, too. They might be able
to get here later in the year. Why don't you show Denny one of your
dances?"

So she could do the eye-roll. "Dad! Out here?" We'd stopped momentarily,
still in the front yard.

He laughed. "What, you don't want the neighbors to see? How are you
going to do it in front of 5000 people?"

"That's different. I'd just feel silly doing it out here."

Jessica said, "Why are we still standing around out here anyway? Let's
go in. We're having a barbecue tonight, Denny, that sound okay?"

"That sounds great." Perry was the leading expert barbecue chef on the
block.

We finally filed in through the front door. I assumed the subject of the
cheerleading demonstration was dropped, but Diana, her pompons rustling
in one hand and her schoolbooks, retrieved now from the van, gripped in
the other, said, "Do you really want to see one of the cheers, Uncle
Denny?"

I smiled. "Sure. What have you got?"

"Okay. This one's for when we score a touchdown. You have to understand
the band's playing, and this looks better when I'm doing it with the
other girls 'cause we each have our own part, but my part goes like
this. . . " She started a dance with a lot of kicks and spins and
whoops, and the silly rhymes that seem to be part of the national high
school constitution for football cheers. She looked so much like every
cheerleader anywhere that it kept startling me when I looked closer and
saw it was Diana.

She'd changed in some ways, of course. She didn't look much like
Princess Diana, for whom she was named. (She was born not long after the
royal wedding of Diana and Prince Charles, when everybody was going
crazy about what a beautiful woman the Princess was, and Jessica just
couldn't resist it. At least it was a pretty ordinary name, and Diana
probably should consider herself lucky Charles hadn't proposed to a
woman named Flabula or something like that.)

Anyway, our Diana had had her yellow-blonde hair in a pony-tail when I'd
last seen her. Now it was cut short, a little like her royal namesake's;
a little shaggier maybe, not so impeccably styled, but still very cute 
and very feminine. It went well with her face, and those big eyes that 
had amazed us since she was a baby, looking as if she just adored the 
world and its wonderful sights. She still had the same small, adorable 
nose, and full lips that curled upward just slightly at the edges.

So I could tell it was definitely her, for all the changes the rest of
her body had gone through. The cheerleading outfit was the standard sort
that managed to be sexy and wholesome at the same time. It showed off
her legs, now long and shapely, their curves hugged closely by a sheer
gold-tinged panty-hose under a tiny green-and-gold skirt. The top, green
with gold trim, showed off a prominent bulge made by breasts she hadn't
had the last time I'd seen her: another idea that took some getting used
to. All in all, she looked fabulous, and I felt sure Perry and Jessica
were having to get used to having their phone endlessly rung by teenaged
boys.

We all clapped at the end, and Diana hid her face behind her pompon in
embarrassment and said, "I'm going up to change clothes, Mom." She
gathered up her books and trotted towards the stairs up to her room,
smiling at me as she went by.

We sat around the livingroom for awhile, swapping stories and laughing a
lot. I could hear Diana upstairs in phone conversation, probably an
indispensible after-school ritual. She came down after about forty-five
minutes, just as we shifted towards the kitchen and Perry and Jessica
started bustling around. Perry mixed some drinks to get us started, and
Jessica and I talked as Perry went out to fire up the grill. I stood by
the fridge with my drink while Jessica turned her kitchen upside-down.
Diana sat at the kitchen table. She'd changed into very brief shorts and
a halter-top that didn't come down much below the bottom of her breasts.
I could see her legs uncovered now, very tanned and even more pleasantly
curved than they'd been in the panty-hose. It looked like she must use a
hair-removal cream instead of shaving them, because they were perfectly
smooth, and it was another change to get used to, so different from the
10-year-old's usual collection of scrapes, bumps, and bruises. Jessica
frowned at her slightly, possibly thinking Diana's attire wasn't
entirely appropriate for the occasion, but she didn't say anything about
it. She'd probably long since given up trying to be Diana's fashion
coach.

During dinner the thought flashed through me at one point that it seemed
as if Diana was especially proud of her breasts. It was the she way she
laughed, I think, arching her back and thrusting her breasts forward
each time. I also started to get the feeling she often looked at me when
she and the rest of us laughed, as if wanting to make sure I was sharing
in whatever was funny. I figured all of this was mostly my imagination.
I wasn't particularly concentrating on her. I thought lots of different
things during those couple of hours, most of them having nothing to do
with her. So the point isn't that I was suddenly attracted to this
fifteen-year-old. I'm just confessing I should have been a little more
on my guard.

We watched a movie on tape after dinner, one of those goofy romantic
comedies whose title I can't recall. (I guess You'd know which one it
was.) Diana excused herself and went up to her room. Jessica watched her
go, and said, bemused, "This has to be the first Friday night in at
least a year that she hasn't had a date. Maybe practice is really
wearing her out."

Perry asked me, "So are we still still on for tomorrow?"

"Sure. What time?"

"I want to get an early start. We should get out of here by about five.
You don't have a clock up there -- we're putting you in Bobby's room, by
the way -- he took his alarm clock with him to school." Bobby was their
other child, now 19, starting his sophomore year in college, and no
longer living at home. That was impossible to believe too, of course,
but time flies. At least it seems to to us, I don't know what it's like
for You. "Why don't I knock on your door around four-thirty?"

I winced inwardly, but said, "Sounds great to me. I guess I better turn
in now, then." It was around nine-thirty. 

Perry helped me lug my stuff up the stairs. Bobby's room was across from
Diana's, and I could hear her on the phone again. Perry muttered, "Don't
worry about her keeping you up. She has to be off the phone by 10. Well,
see you bright and early. Or dark and early, I guess." We shook hands
again and he went back downstairs. Their bedroom was down there, off the
living-room, on the opposite side of the house from where the upper
floor was. It showed either a great trust in their kids or a desire to
be out of earshot of their constant fights. Probably some of both.

I finished up in the bathroom and changed into pajama bottoms. I don't
usually wear the top part; at home, if it's hot, I don't wear the
bottom part either, but with a teenager across the hall I felt a little
more comfortable with my privates covered. I'm pretty fit for 43, same
age as Perry, so it must be that I like to show off my chest to my
bathroom mirror.

I had just climbed into bed when there was a light tap at the door. I
assumed it had to Perry, back to mention something he'd forgotten. So I
couldn't hide my startle reflex when I opened the door and saw Diana
standing there.

She was wearing a thin nightie now, that stopped at the top of her
thighs and would make it impossible for her to bend over in front of
anybody without embarrassment. She was looking up at me, those big eyes
not nearly so far below me as it still seemed they should have been, and
biting her lip uncertainly. The silence stretched, since I couldn't
think of anything to say either, and finally she blurted out, in a shy
whisper, "Remember that time I tied you up?"

That had to be the last thing I expected her to say. I remembered it,
but it wasn't something that was ever at the top of my mind.

It was only a couple of weeks before I moved away. Connie was staying
with her mother, and had the kids with her, waiting for me to sort
things out at the end of the divorce. I was a little depressed, but not
terribly broken up. It had been coming a long time. I slept over at
Perry's sometimes, not being able to take being alone at first, sleeping
on the couch (so the current arrangement was a distinct improvement). A
couple of times over those last few weeks I offered to baby-sit Bobby
and Diana so Perry and Jessica could enjoy a rare night out. This one
time Bobby had been staying overnight with a friend, so it was just me
and the 10-year-old.

We watched TV, and I let her stay up a little past her bedtime, and we
were watching one of those late-evening cop shows. In one scene in the
show a woman who had been kidnapped was tied to a chair, looking very
alarmed and helpless while the hero of the show, of course, tries to
locate her. Diana seemed enthralled. Out of the corner of my eye I could
see she had stopped fidgeting, almost stopped breathing, while those big
eyes stared at the screen. After the show, I told her she needed to go
to bed. She turned to me and asked, innocently, "Could I tie you up like
that, Uncle Denny?"

I shook my head, smiling. "Come on, I've let you stay up too late
already."

"Oh please, please, please? I just want to see what it's like. Fifteen
minutes, then I'll go to bed, I promise."

I kept shaking my head, nearly laughing, but she gave me that Look. I've
never been able to stand up against that expression she gets, where she
fixes her eyes on me and stares forlornly, as if her entire existence
will be devastated unless I say yes. My kids couldn't do the Look, thank
You, and I think Perry and Jessica had more resistance to it than I did.
Such resistance as I had collapsed, and I said, "Okay, where do you want
me to be?" She eagerly indicated a dining-room chair and ran off to get
some appropriate equipment, which turned out to consist of bathrobe ties
and discarded curtain cords. As she had me put my hands behind me down
the back of the chair, and tried to tie my hands and feet to the chair
similar to the way the woman had been tied on the show, I snickered a
little with a mental image of the Babysitter helplessly hogtied while
the kids ran amock. I knew there was really no danger of that here:
Diana had no idea how to really tie knots, and by the time she was
satisfied I found I could easily escape within seconds. I played along,
though, pretending to be immobilized as Diana danced around the chair,
probably imagining herself in control of an adult for the first time in
her brief lifetime. After about ten minutes I shrugged out of the bonds
and told her, "Okay, you promised you'd go to bed. You know your Mom and
Dad will get mad at both of us if you don't, so off to bed now and I'll
see you in the morning." She looked a little disappointed, but she gave
me a hug and disappeared upstairs, taking the bondage equipment with
her. I slept on the couch, only mildly disturbed when Perry and Jessica
came in around midnight. And I hadn't really thought much about that
night until Diana stood at the door of my room asking if I remembered
it.

I just nodded my head, nonplussed and incapable of speech. She looked
down then, took a deep breath, and asked, "Could I do it again?"

I blinked several times, and finally said, "Maybe sometime, Diana, but
it's really late, and I'm getting up early. Good night. Sleep tight,
okay?" I hoped she'd shrug and go back to her room, since I doubt if I
could have just closed the door in her face. Instead she hit me with the
Look.

I could feel my resolve dissolving like a block of ice with hot water
running over it. I flicked my eyes towards the stairway, a dead give-
away that I was weakening. 

"Mom's in the shower right now. They won't hear anything. Oh, please,
Uncle Denny?" I could hear the water flowing through distant pipes in
the house.

I couldn't believe the 15-year-old still had the same fascination with
bondage as the 10-year-old, and that she hadn't somehow worked it out
and gotten past it. That should have been another warning, I guess.

But I'd had enough of the Look as I could bear up under. And as
accustomed as I was to her eyes, there seemed to be something a little
odd about them that I couldn't pin down, so yet another warning went
right by me.

I rolled my head on my neck in exasperation, and said, "So where do you
want me to be?"

She tiptoed back into her bedroom and came out with a small swivel
chair, similar to the one that sits in front of my computer console at
home: a softly-padded seat mounted on a vertical metal post, with four
horizontal legs radiating out from the bottom of the post, each having a
roller at the end; another vertical post rising from the back of the
seat, with a padded support for your back at its top. She set it down on
the floor of my room, and patted the bottom, saying, "Sit right here."

I sat, and she disappeared into her own room once more, returning in
seconds with what appeared to be a leather dog-leash: a really long one,
maybe twelve feet or so, maybe made for those people who walk about
fifteen dogs at once, who'd need some really long leashes because
there's no way to crowd that many dogs together at your feet. My guess,
anyway.

I felt embarrassed as she directed me to put my hands together behind
the backrest-support, not least because I wished I'd thought to cover up
a little more before I'd opened the door, and certainly before she
started in on this game. It was Diana, and I'd known her all her life,
but still, it was a teenaged girl.

>From there my thoughts jumped to the surprising fact that, while I
hadn't really put much thought into that first little bondage game in
the last five years, obviously she had. She tied my wrists together
quickly and with an evident expertise in knots that had been absent five
years before. In moments my wrists were secured to the backrest-support,
with plenty of the leash left over. She dropped the ends of it down to
the floor and started using it to tie my ankles. As she knelt next to
me, concentrating on the knots, I realized with a shock what it was that
seemed funny about her eyes. Her whole face, in fact.

She was in full makeup: mascara, a little hint of eye shadow, a bit of
face powder, a light lip-gloss. She didn't overdo any of it the way some
girls do at that age, and she must have been well-trained by Jessica, a
black-belt in cosmetics. I hadn't looked at her that closely earlier in
the evening, but what memory I had told me that at least the lip-gloss
was something new. Of course the point was it shouldn't be there at all
at this time of night. She was supposed to be on her way to bed; what
was the make-up for?

And I could smell perfume. I'd gotten a hint of it the moment I opened
the door, but it was more distinct now as she knelt close to me. Another
thing I thought had been absent earlier in the evening.

Up to this point I was equating the experience with the one five years
earlier. She had just been an exuberant ten-year-old, and I'd had no
feelings about the whole situation except a slight irritation at the
delay in getting her in bed, since I'd felt pretty tired myself. I was 
irritated again now, and under the circumstances I saw her up until this
point as a taller version of the ten-year-old.

But as I smelled the perfume, saw her face looking so womanly in the
make-up, and as my eyes slipped further down, defying my will to avoid
looking, into the opening at the top of her nightie, seeing the smooth
inner swelling of her breasts and the valley between, while she frowned
looking downward and concentrated on her knots -- I felt, to my horror,
an erection starting to push up the front of my PJ bottoms. Not terribly
big yet, but already enough to be obvious if she were to look in that
direction.

I don't mean to criticize, but couldn't You have made it a little more
voluntary? Is it that necessary for the continuity of the species for
the male to have no control over that particular body part? As long as
it's there when we need it, isn't that enough?

I felt my face break into a sweat. I'm sure it must have been bright
red. I didn't even know if she'd know what an erection was, but kids
know an awful lot these days. More than we did back then. Maybe more
than we do now.

By this time she was done, and my ankles were tied behind the post, to
the leg coming out behind it. This wasn't anything like the kind of job
she'd done five years earlier; as I wriggled my wrists and ankles within
the leather strap holding them, I could tell that, while not cutting off
circulation, it was wrapped so snugly that I didn't feel confident I
could slip out of it. The ends of the leash were both down around my
ankles, so there was nothing I could reach to untie. I shifted a little
to try to get my erection pointed not quite so straight upward. I hoped
she'd be satisfied with the game soon.I knew her well enough to know I
couldn't succeed in ordering her to let me go until she was ready. I
momentarily thought about calling down to Jessica, who by this time was
done showering. But not with that erection. No way.

While doubting it would work, I decided to give it a try anyway. "Diana?
This probably wasn't such a good idea, with it so late and all. . ." I
stopped short of asking her to untie me; it was hard to admit that she
really did have me helpless. In response she did nothing but smile and
give me a nuzzle with her cheek against my shoulder.

She gave no sign yet of noticing what was happening at the top of my
pants, but I was less sure now she'd be shocked. I was stunned, myself.
She might have rubbed her cheek against me at any age, I think, but
combined with the perfume, the make-up... I can only say that I didn't
consciously put it all together sooner because I didn't want to think
it was possible.

I was about to speak again, and put it a little more firmly this time,
but before I could she turned off the bedroom light and opened the door.
I tensed up at the possibility that Perry or Jessica might come
wandering by, remote though it was. I bit back a shout, then, as she
started pushing the chair towards the door, through it, and out into the
hallway. She paused to close the door to my room and open up her own
darkened room, then rolled me into her bedroom, closing the door
afterwards, poking the tiny protrusion next to the doorknob that locked
it. The click seemed magnified in my ears.

She turned on the light, and I don't know what I expected to see.
Somehow the situation had got me visualizing a medieval torture chamber,
but it was an ordinary teenaged girl's room: a queen-sized bed with a
pink, lacy bedspread, covered with stuffed animals that she might or
might not remove before she climbed in and went to sleep at night, a
small throw-rug on the floor on the near side of the bed, MTV posters
covering most of the wall surface. There was a window in the far wall,
with a very sheer pink drape hanging in front that wouldn't have stopped
anybody from looking in, if there'd been anyone out there to see. From
where I was, only the upper floor of the house next door, my old house,
was visible, with no window directly opposite this one. My initial fear
of being seen receded.

I thought more seriously about calling Perry or Jessica, but now the
situation was getting even harder to explain. It didn't look good that I
was half-dressed in Diana's bedroom, with or without being tied to a
chair. And with or without a hard-on.

Diana sat down on my lap now, side-saddle, her legs to my right, and put
her arms around me as she snuggled her head against my left shoulder and
cheek. I still wanted to think I had misinterpreted all the signals,
that there was nothing more to the situation than playful spirits in a
girl who was just happy to see an old friend after all this time. Diana
was sweet and innocent. She just had to be. At any instant her right hip
would brush against my woody and she'd gasp in shock that I could be
aroused by her, and I'd be more embarrassed than I'd ever been in my
life.

That bubble burst at the instant she shifted her head enough to put her
mouth next to my neck. She kissed it first, and then started slowly
licking it, the way you'd savor an ice-cream cone.

My face felt numb, my head buzzing. This had to be happening to someone
else. To complete that impression, I noticed to my left a large free-
standing mirror, at the side of the room, and I could see a guy in it,
sitting awkwardly in a chair with his hands behind him, most of his face
obscured by a young girl who looked gorgeous from the back with a lacy
nightie barely covering her behind, licking his neck adoringly. So yeah,
it was just somebody else, and I was somehow observing, watching as she
now draped her arm over his far shoulder while she started to run the
fingers of her other hand idly through his hair, still licking his neck
all the while. 

I tried to put some authority in my voice, which together with a feeling
of nervousness caused it to come out unusually raspy. "Diana, this isn't
right. Stop it now." She didn't react. "Stop, Diana."

She whispered, "I knew you'd say that at first. Just give me a chance to
show what I can do for you." She raised her head from my neck and looked
at me, a dreamy smile on her face. "So don't say another word. Or I'll
scream." She went back to licking my neck, letting her arm drop off my
shoulder, running her hand slowly down my arm and my side.

I could feel the blood drain from my face. What would happen to me if I
made a sound and her parents came up here? I already knew the whole
thing would be hard to explain. Would they believe me? Was she just
bluffing? I didn't think I wanted to know any of the answers. I closed
my eyes and tried to fight off a wave of dizziness, breathing slowly and
more or less regularly. Up until her slowly dropping hand reached my hip
and, even more slowly, moved towards my crotch.

I automatically blurted, "No, Diana, no, no. . ." as she started to feel
my erection through the pajamas, measuring its dimensions with her
fingertips as if she was reading Braille. She sat up and stopped
fingering my hair with her other hand, shaking her finger at me in mock
sternness. "I'm not going to warn you again. One more word and I'll get
Mom and Dad up here. I can untie you before they get here, but you won't
have time to get out of the room." The smile burst forth again, bigger
than ever. "I know you like me." Her hand petted and stroked my penis
under its tent of fabric. "This feels soooo neat!" I helplessly felt
it grow longer under her touch, the cloth stretching so far I could feel
it pulled taut against my hips.

She had to be bluffing about yelling for her parents. But even if she
was, what difference did it make? Whether she'd really wake up the house
or not, she obviously didn't intend to let me go. I told myself I had to
get through to her somehow, that I could break the spell and convince
her this wasn't a game, but. . . but what if she really meant it? Her
whole behavior seemed so irrational, I didn't know how to bet on what
she might or might not do.

She slipped off my lap now, and knelt on the floor next to the chair.
She was concentrating more on my penis now, fingering its outlines while
staring at the tent with an intensity that rivalled her attention to
that TV show so many years ago. With her other hand she began playing
around with the waistband of the pajamas. I knew what she was working up
to, and I tried to somehow sit as hard as I could on the seat, but as
she started pulling the pajamas down, working them down past my butt
despite my best efforts, I could tell there had been no way to stop her.
In fact, the hardest part for her had been stretching the waistband
enough to clear my penis, but she seemed to regard it as worth the
effort; she gasped in appreciation as it popped free, pointing towards
the ceiling. Afterwards she continued sliding the pajamas down towards
my ankles.

It seems hard to believe, but a part of me still imagined I was
corrupting an innocent girl by appearing naked in her bedroom, and that
I ought to be ashamed of exposing myself to her like that. I kept trying
to tell myself I hadn't brought this situation about. Meanwhile, she
bent down and took a first lick at my penis.

The mental debate still raged within me, as I tried to work out some way
I could stop her without attracting outside attention, as she moved her
tongue down the shaft, slowly, and tongued my balls playfully before
moving back up. A tiny smile started and grew wider on her lips as she
approached the head, and with an excited sigh she took it deep in her
mouth and started sucking on it in much the same way (I couldn't stop
thinking things like this) I had seen her sucking on her baby formula
not so long ago.

I tried harder this time to somehow wriggle my wrists free, but she'd
just done it too well this time. If I could just go along with her, I
figured, it would all be over soon. Very soon, in fact, because the
sight and feeling of her going down on me was overwhelming. I think the
same sort of thing that keeps our attention glued to a train crash kept
me from closing my eyes, like I wanted to: I'd gotten blow-jobs before,
but I couldn't stop thinking about it being *Diana*, and remembering
that little girl who'd ridden her tricycle around in my driveway. For
all the physical changes she really did still look the same. Not long
after she started running her fingertips lightly along the base of my
penis while continuing to suck, I came. She stayed with it, swallowing
it all and slowly withdrawing as my penis started to shrink, finally
licking the last few beads of semen that dribbled out of my penis,
afterwards laying her head down in my lap and giving it one last kiss.

I felt I knew the answer, but I had to ask anyway. "You've done that
before, haven't you?" I was starting to relax, figuring she was about to
let me go. I vaguely reasoned that I needed to know as much as I could,
so that I could somehow let Jessica know she needed to keep an eye on
her, without implicating myself. How that could be done was something I
was a long way from figuring out, but there should be some way. I wasn't
sure Perry ought to know. He'd be more likely to let his anger get the
best of him, but Jessica might handle it a little more calmly. As long
as she didn't know my own role in it.

Her response changed the ballgame a little more. "I've been with boys,
yeah. They don't want to let me tie them up, so I've had to practice
that on my own. But yeah, I've done that. I don't like sex as much with
boys my age, though, so you know what I do when I'm with them?" She got
up on her knees next to me, bringing her head up close to a level with
mine, an indecipherable smile curling her lips. I shook my head.

"I pretend I'm with you." She leaned forward and kissed me, a long, slow
kiss, moving her lips against mine while she caressed my head with both
hands. 

I swear to You I never had any idea! It had to have been something that
gradually grew in my absence, this passionate teenage crush. When I knew
her we always got along well together, our families were friendly and
she liked me and I liked her, but there wasn't anything that could lead
to this. It could be that she credited me as the person who introduced
her to bondage (although even that much isn't really accurate, the way I
see it, I just happened to be there), which had since become the big
passion of her young life, so maybe the sexual excitement she got out of
bondage got all mixed up with me somehow. You'd know, I guess, so maybe
You could tell me someday. I've thought a lot about it since she said
that, so maybe I understand more about it now than I did then. All I
know is right then it scared the. . . sorry, I mean it just really
scared me. It would be okay once I got out of there and got as far away
as possible, but meanwhile it seemed less likely that she was about to
free me, and the only other people who could possibly get me out of this
were people who would never believe my explanation of how I had gotten
into it. And who would discover me here before too long anyway if I
couldn't get this love-struck girl to let me loose.

Different thoughts were blowing through my head like a hurricane, and it
was difficult to catch any of them. She was still kissing me, and her
lips were the softest I'd ever kissed, her breath very sweet, with still
a hint of the taste of semen. Under the circumstances, I wasn't too
surprised at her next move. Still kissing me, she reached down for the
bottom of her nightie and started pulling it up. She leaned back long
enough to get it up over her head and off. She wasn't wearing anything
else underneath. Naked now, she leaned forward again to resume the
interrupted kiss, putting her hand behind my head to pull my face
tighter against hers. I was losing the ability to think altogether. I
knew it was wrong to kiss her, but I didn't want to stop.

She broke off the kiss after a few minutes, and stood up, looking down
at her breasts and fingering them lightly with each hand, smiling. "Do
you like my boobs, Uncle Denny?"

I had no idea what to say, but I couldn't tear my eyes away.

She was playing with her nipples. "I love touching them. Sometimes when
I'm up here doing my homework, I start touching them through my blouse.
I try not to, because then I can't stop. Then I take off my bra and put
my shirt back on, 'cause the fabric feels so neat rubbing against them.
And I can't do my homework anymore." She looked back up at me and her
grin turned a little shy. "And at night I dream you're sucking on them.
Would you suck on them for me?"

I shook my head vaguely, trying to resist one more time. She opened her
mouth and drew in a quick breath, looking for all the world as if she
was about to scream, then caught her breath at the last instant, closing
her mouth and looking at me expectantly with an impish grin.

I quickly leaned forward towards her right breast, my mouth open, not
quite able to reach it. She moved towards me, straddling my legs now as
she bent down slightly to push her breast into my mouth. She closed her
eyes as I started to suck, breathing gradually harder, less regularly.
Softly, she said, "Bite my nipple a little."

I was afraid to do it hard, but I brought my teeth down on her nipple,
and she closed her eyes more tightly, breathing out slowly followed by a
quick gasp to inhale, over and over. She pulled away in a few minutes
only to push her other breast towards me. "This one wants it too."

After I'd sucked and bitten her left breast for about ten minutes, and
begun forgetting not only who she was but who I was too, things took
another one of those unexpected turns: she reached back behind her to
turn off the room light, sat on my lap straddling me, facing me. As
slender as she was, it wasn't that difficult supporting her full weight
on my lap; I imagined she was 110 pounds, certainly not much more. She
used her feet to start rolling the chair towards the bed behind me. 

I hadn't seen a second dog-leash, similar to the one she used on me,
curled up among the stuffed animals near the foot of the bed. She
reached behind me and picked it up, pushed us slightly back away from
the bed to give us a little more room, and started to tie *herself* to
the chair with it. I wasn't clear on what she was doing immediately, but
I could tell gradually. She started by wrapping her legs around my waist
and tying her ankles together, tying them also to that same backrest-
support my hands were behind, underneath them. Afterwards, with her arms
around me, underneath my armpits, she used the remainder of the leash to
tie her wrists together. At the end I heard a click, whose significance
I couldn't figure out right then. I found out later.

Now secured, she leaned against my chest with a contented sigh, her head
resting on my shoulder. She was looking away from me at first, but
turned and started licking my neck again in a few minutes.

The intense stimulation of the last half-hour or so was unexpectedly
bringing my penis back to life. I like sex as well as any guy, I
suppose, but it usually takes me awhile to recover. I can't do it over
and over the way some guys claim to (probably more guys than can
actually do it). But I'd never had an extremely sexy, extremely
passionate teenaged girl sitting naked on my lap, her arms and legs
wrapped around me, her bush and very wet sex pressed against my penis,
and it was growing again, quickly. I knew she could feel it immediately
-- she looked down and smiled, and started rubbing the front of her
crotch against it to encourage it. By now it was enormous, and
incredibly sensitive: I think I could feel every single crinkly hair of
her still-sparse bush rubbing against the shaft. And she was getting
wetter by the second, breathing faster.

She tightened her knees against my side, and her arms. I couldn't tell
what she was doing at first, because it took her a moment to find just
the right combination of muscles to move, but in a moment she had lifted
her bottom off my lap. My mind flooded with the knowledge that this was
absolutely the worst thing she could possibly do, the one thing of all
that neither of us could afford, and I frantically tried to find any way
I could think of to prevent it, to somehow get my penis out of the way,
knowing as I did it that it was futile. She hovered over my penis now,
straining with the effort to hold herself aloft while she felt for
exactly the right position. Achieving it at last, she slowly let herself
down, my penis pressed against her opening and sliding easily up into
her as she let herself back down onto my lap.

She sat motionless at first, her eyes closed, breathing very deeply and
slowly, and then started rocking her hips in a circular motion. I tried
everything I could think of to get my mind on something else: car
repairs, idiots at work, alimony payments (momentarily successful there,
forgetting for a few instants the naked teenager I was having sex with
as my anger simmered, but not for long enough). My consciousness snapped
back to the here and now, the excitement building despite all my
efforts. My only hope was exactly what hadn't been working up to now,
trying to talk her out of it.

I whispered tensely, "Diana, we can't do this, we really can't do this.
Stop it now, please, please. . ." I broke off when I saw she was. . .
well, I couldn't really call it ignoring me. My voice wasn't even
present in her universe for her to ignore. She was breathing much more
raggedly now, with every now and then a very rapid, forceful exhalation
accompanied by a rippling of her vaginal muscles: she seemed to be
having orgasms, one after another. In the dim light coming in from the
window I could see a sheen of sweat that had broken out over her whole
body, but she showed no signs of stopping or even slowing down. I
couldn't decide whether her sexual responsiveness was really unusual, or
if this would be normal for a teenager with a mad crush on, say,
Leonardo DiCaprio, who goes beyond her wildest dreams and actually gets
to have sex with him. Not that I look anything like Leonardo, but in a
way, it seemed that to Diana I did.

That was about my last coherent thought for awhile. I was familiar
enough with the excitement of sex, the loss of all control, but this
came on me like nothing I can ever remember. It was all a blur of
sensations, kaleidoscopically confusing yet still clear in my memory
now: the sight of so much smooth, perfect young skin, the sound of her
soft, excited sighs, the feeling of her soft, perfect breasts pressed
against my chest, hardened nipples like fingers caressing me, her
strong, sexy cheerleader's legs wrapped around my waist, ever tighter --
and tighter still her warm, wet sex gripping my penis. I couldn't tear
my eyes away from her face: it was still the face of the little girl I
had known, yet at the same time the face of the woman she was becoming.
Her arms tightened around me convulsively as she shook with what seemed
to be her strongest orgasm yet, and I couldn't find the little girl in
her face now: it was all heavy-lidded, open-mouthed sensuality. I
stopped being conscious now of it being Diana, or of anything else
except her skin pressed tight against mine, and the wet, slick warmth of
her that surrounded and caressed my penis. Only the tiniest part of my
mind remained aware of the likely consequences of what was happening.
The rest of me wanted to feel this excitement forever. I could feel
myself rushing toward the cliff, jumping off into orgasm and couldn't do
anything to stop it. That self-aware part of me could feel the flood
rising every inch of the way up my penis, and when it was halfway there
I had time to think about how much trouble I was going to be in, that it
hadn't happened yet but now nothing in the world could stop it, yes,
there it goes. Gusher after gusher of semen spurted into her, and Diana
now let out an audible moan; she could feel what was happening, as my
hips jerked against hers. As I came inside her. 

Forever ended, moments later. I found I was back on Earth, coupled with
a naked girl just over a third of my age.

Nobody would believe I couldn't help it; nobody would understand how I
could have gotten into this situation without considerable cooperation
on my part. My only hope was that Diana could be persuaded to let me go
before we were discovered. Otherwise, what life I had left would either
be extremely short or mostly spent in prison. My semen was inside her; I
was guilty, case closed.

At least the shrinking of my now spent penis ended the cycle of her
orgasms; apparently it was no longer long enough or stiff enough to give
her the right stimulation, and she leaned against me, exhaustedly
laying her head on my shoulder. We were both sweating, skin sliding
against skin, both trying to sit still for awhile to recover our
strength. I could feel some of my semen leaking out of her and running
down the inside of my thigh. I prayed (as You recall) it could somehow
*all* come back out, but I knew it didn't work that way. And the idea
that it, my semen, was coming from inside of Diana. . . it was
unbelievable.

And we both tensed instantly, at the sound of a creak on the stairway,
so I knew I hadn't imagined it. A footfall out in the hallway now. And a
light tap at the door. Jessica asked softly, "Diana? You still up?"

I don't know how I kept quiet, but my bladder gave way to the panic; I
felt the warm spray shoot out of my penis, still inside her, afterwards
trickling down her vaginal walls and dripping down onto the seat. Oddly,
I could feel Diana relax at the sound of her mother's voice. She looked
down at her crotch, where the last hot droplets were leaking out of her
and dribbling down my thigh, grinned, and mouthed, "Shame on you,"
before saying aloud in a sleepy voice, "Wha--  I'm in bed, Mom."

"I thought I heard you making some noise."

"Probably just talked in my sleep. You told me I do sometimes."

Jessica jiggled the doorknob. "Why's your door locked, honey?"

"I dunno, Mom. Why do you lock the front door at night?"

"Well, I just don't want you making noise and keeping Uncle Denny up.
He's got an early day tomorrow."

"I was already asleep, Mom."

"Okay, Love you, honey."

"Love you too, Mom."

I could hear her footsteps retreating down the hall, and slowly let out
the breath I didn't know I'd been holding. That same step on the stairs
creaked as she went back down. The whole world seemed surreal now; the
idea that Jessica was trying to ensure her houseguest's convenience, not
knowing same houseguest was sitting there still coupled with the far-
underage naked daughter she was talking to after having had sex with
her, was beyond comprehension.

After five minutes of tense waiting to make sure everybody was out of
earshot, Diana broke the silence. "Thank God it was Mom." (So was that
Your doing, or just luck?) "They've got keys, you know. Dad probably
would have tried to come in, but I can handle Mom."

Pretty much all of our conversation up to now had been in whispers, but
from this point everything was in even softer whispers, everything said
slowly and enunciated clearly by both of us.

"Ow. Diana, could you let me out of you now? That's starting to hurt."

"Can't I just keep you inside me a little longer?"

"No." (I winced.) I can't explain to you what it feels like, but (ow) 
it's really tight."

Reluctantly, she finally said, "Oh, okay." She wiggled her bottom away
from my stomach, causing increased distress as it started to feel like
she was going to pull my penis off, but at last we separated with a pop.

"Now untie us and let me get out of here. And I want to have a long talk
with you about this tomorrow." In a perfect world, I imagined, I could
talk her into telling her parents she needed help, somehow without my
name coming up.

She looked down, with the corners of her mouth turned up. "I can't."

I tried out all possible interpretations of that on myself before I
asked her, "What does that mean?"

"I mean I can't untie it. I've got the ends padlocked together." The
leash ended in metal rings at both extremities. "It's a combination
lock, and there's not enough light to see the dial. There will be when
the sun comes up in the morning. I wanted to spend the whole night with
you." She gave me another one of those soft, sweet kisses, impossible to
avoid since she started out with her face just inches from mine, and I
broke it off as soon as I could.

"Say that again." I prayed I'd heard it wrong. I'm sure You caught that
one.

"I wanted to spend the night with you." She squeezed her arms and legs
tighter around me, leaning her head on my shoulder again.

"I mean about the lock."

"At sunrise I'll be able to unlock it. When I can see it." She giggled a
little, like she thought that was the cleverest part of her plan.

I closed my eyes tight. "Oh God oh God oh God. . ." (Just another
prayer.) "Didn't you hear. . . no, you'd already gone up to bed. Your
Dad's going to come up here to get me at 4:30. In the morning. That's
before the sun comes up. We've got to be out of here *before* that."

She sat back upright, looking at me in silence for a minute, while the
thought filtered through her that there was a big problem here. She
breathed gradually deeper and faster, and started saying quickly, "Oh
no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no. . ." She was shaking. "Daddy's going to
kill me. I'll be grounded for a month, I know it. A year. Oh God, no."

I decided against trying to straighten out her interpretation of which
one of us was in more trouble --- I could use her self-centered
teenager's concerns to advantage. Anything that would get her working on
getting us loose. But the immediate problem was to pull her out of a
full panic, and, unable to think of anything else I could manage that
would get through to her, I leaned forward and kissed her, hard, pushing
my tongue into her mouth, stopping the flow of whispered exclamations if
not the shivering. I continued the kiss, feeling the breath coming hard
out of her nose and the tears arriving at my lips after a quick trip
down her face, until she seemed she might be calm enough to listen.

"Look, you know there's got to be some other ways to get free. I'll
start thinking of some and you think of some. I know we'll get out of
here. Okay?" She looked at me, biting her lip, the tears still flowing.
"Okay?" She nodded finally.

"All right. Start by trying to get your wrists or your feet free. Just
worry about one hand, or one foot. I'll do the same. Just try to do it
really quietly, okay?"

She nodded, and I could feel her starting to twist her wrists behind me.

"Don't try to do everything at once. Feel the straps with your fingers
or toes and see if it seems like any of them could get looser." I
experimented with my own bonds, a little more methodically than I had
before.

After a couple of minutes she said, her voice full of frustration,
"Nothing's working."

"Give it more time. I don't want to give up too soon before trying
something else." There was a digital clock across the room, its red
digits separated by a blinking colon that seemed as if it was ticking
the seconds of my life away. I commanded myself not to think of it that
way. "Keep doing it for five minutes. Then we'll stop and try something
else." It was 11:50. For the next five minutes I concentrated on every
inch of the cords my fingers could reach, probing to determine how they
went over and under each other. In five years she had obviously pursued
the techniques of restraint with a single-mindedness you don't often see
in the flighty world of the teenager; that was the only conclusion I
could come to, as I failed again to detect any loosening anywhere. The
movements of my feet were a little hampered by her weight on my lap, but
I continually wiggled them too, without any greater success. On her part
it seemed that to her the game was over, and she was making an effort at
least as serious as mine. Her muscles tensed in various ways as she
squirmed against me. It seemed she should have some advantage in being
able to reach her feet with her hands, but there was nothing to untie
down there: the ends of the leash were both around her wrists,
padlocked,  and apparently her probing fingers weren't able to loosen
anything up. Her breathing kept speeding up to the point that she seemed
about to cry out loud in frustration, and I'd try to calm her with a
quiet "Shh - shh - shh," and she'd be better for awhile until the anger
built up again.

At 11:55 I finally asked, "You getting anywhere at all?" She shook her
head, the dim light showing her tears again.

"Are you sure you can't see the dial on the lock? There's a little bit
of light in here. I don't know if my eyes are adjusting or it's getting
lighter." I looked towards the window, which faced west. There was a
streetlight in front of the house next door, my old house, but there
also seemed to be more light from above. "Hey! I think it's a full Moon
tonight." I felt a little more confidence for the first time. "It should
be coming down into the window soon. It's already making it pretty
bright out there. See if you can open up the padlock."

She looked over my shoulder and started twiddling the dial. I could tell
she was having trouble, not surprisingly. She started trying to bring
the dial up as close as she could to her eyes, but evidently never close
enough. Her chin digging into my shoulder, she tried to bring her wrists
up higher, which was made more difficult by the cord connecting her
wrists to her ankles, requiring her to lift her ankles higher too,
sliding them upward along the backrest-support they were tied to, while
I had to slide my hands up, since they were tied to that same support
above her feet. Sliding her feet up made it harder for her to keep
herself from leaning back away from me, and she dug her ankles into my
back and her chin even harder into my shoulder. Through gritted teeth
she said, "I can't. . . get it. I can't see. . . any of the numbers. Can
see the little. . . marks around the side, so I'm trying to guess where
0 is, but then. . . when I turn it my fingers get in the way and I lose
track."

She was killing my back by now, so I said, "Okay, stop for now. We can
try again later if we have to. Don't say anything for a minute, let me
think."

I tried to visualize every detail of the way we were tied, to imagine
any contortion we could go through.

"Do you think you could slide your hands down past your feet? And down
under the chair? If you could get them down to where my feet are you
could untie my ankles."

After slipping her hands down my back, she said, "Your arms are going to
be in the way. Your hands are tied to that post."

"Can you go around them? To the side?"

"Wait a minute." She moved her hands towards my left side and started to
scrunch down in my lap. Her head pressed hard against my stomach, she
gasped with the effort of trying to force her hands down just a little
farther. "It's not working. Now my shins are in the way."

"Okay, stop. Let me think some more."

We just had to get more light somehow; as far as I could tell we'd
exhausted all the possible ways to get loose except by unlocking the
padlock. It was 12:30 now.

I was facing the door to the room, and I could see the room light switch
next to it. It looked like it was up out of reach, but it seemed worth a
try.

"I want to see if we can move towards the light switch. Let me try it
myself first, and if that doesn't work maybe you can get us moving.
Don't be surprised when I jerk towards you."

I tried a quick forward move with my upper body to see if it would make
the chair go that way. It did seem to move, a little, and I kept doing
it.

It seemed as if it was going to take forever, though. Each time we went
an inch forward we went a half-inch back, and occasionally vice-versa. I
finally told her, "I don't know if it's going to work. You try it."

She prepared herself for a moment, then threw her weight back. I quickly
said, "Wait, wait, wait."

"What?"

"It feels like you're too far back, and if you do that much harder the
chair's going to tip over. Let me try again. Wait, maybe I can get my
feet on the floor." The cords holding my feet went up over that
horizontal "leg," and my toes were a little off the floor, but not far.
By shifting my feet to the left I managed to get my left toes on the
floor, or by shifting the other way I could get my right toes down. I
couldn't get both feet down at once, or anything more than toes.

It helped, though. With my big toe anchoring us, I found we could make a
little faster progress as I threw my weight forward like before. About
six inches a minute, it seemed like. I had to stop a couple of times to
change feet; my toe really got tired of it.

She looked behind her as we approached the switch. "Can you change
directions? We're missing it a little bit."

"I know. Let me think." It seemed that if I pressed my heel against the
chair leg just as we were moving, that ought to gradually adjust our
direction. I tried it.

"It's working, but not fast enough. I'm going to try to back up."

As soon as I tried backing up, I could feel the same problem as Diana
had had moving us forward, behind her: throwing my weight back that way
brought our center of gravity dangerously far back, and I could see us
tipping over if I got careless. On the other hand. . .

"Diana, I think you could get us moving that way. Throw your weight
towards me and see what happens."

I used my toe to help grip the floor again to the extent it was 
possible, and felt her leg muscles tense just before she jerked forward,
her stomach making a little slapping sound against mine. We moved back
an inch or so.

"Not so hard! You'll make noise. Do it mostly from the waist."

She nodded, and her next motion brought her crotch hard against my lower
stomach, the impact cushioned by my penis. At least it made less noise
that way, but it hurt! I didn't know how long I could let her keep doing
that. Unexpectedly, in spite of ejaculating twice in the last few hours,
the efforts of our naked bodies entwined with each other started
reviving my penis. Meanwhile we were moving back slowly.

I hadn't really been thinking about sex while we'd been trying to get
loose, but the renewed stimulation reminded me: I just had to ask her
what I'd been avoiding bringing up.

"Um. . . Diana. (Ow. Her crotch crashed into me again.) "I don't guess
you're taking the pill, are you?"

"Are you kidding? How would Mom ever let me have that?"

"How long since. . . your last period?"

"Ummm. . . a week. Or maybe two. I don't know. Is it important?"

I bit my tongue to keep from screaming at her. Hadn't Jessica had a
little chat with her? She'd probably told her vaguely that her periods
had something to do with being able to get pregnant, but hadn't said
exactly how. She was probably waiting till Diana became "sexually
active." Ha!

Great. She might be in her most fertile period or she might not be, and
there was no way to know for sure, for now. And I had to come here
*this* weekend.

It actually seemed like the least of my problems, at the moment. It's
not like they'd sue me for child support while I was in prison. And if
Perry hadn't killed me by the time I left here, it'd probably be too
late once he found out she was pregnant. There wasn't any point worrying
about it now.

"Okay, stop, I think I can make it from here." I started moving us back
towards the switch, and worked to adjust it so we'd end up running
parallel to the wall, instead of running into it.

The room seemed to get a little darker suddenly. I looked towards the
window. All I could figure was that the Moon had gone behind some
clouds. I stopped moving to watch for awhile, hoping it was a small,
quick-moving cloud. After about five minutes I decided it was no short-
lived phenomenon; evidently there was some heavy cloud-cover coming in.
I could still see from the light from the streetlamp, but I already knew
it wasn't bright enough to do any good. One more means of escape gone,
or at least I knew we'd better not count on it. I started moving again. 

Eventually, we got her head directly under the switch. She was at least
nine inches below it.

"Okay, try to get up to it now. And be careful of banging into the
wall."

The same way she had earlier lifted herself up to position herself over
my penis, she now lifted her bottom off my lap. Her knees tightened
painfully against my sides as she strained to straighten her legs and
lift herself higher. My nose was between her breasts now, and I almost
fainted from the amount of perfume she had dabbed in that space. Her
breasts rubbed softly against my cheeks, and I found I was getting
increasingly aroused: there must be nothing like a naked, sweating,
muscle-straining 15-year-old cheerleader wrapped around your body to
make a guy young again. I kept hoping somehow my erection would go down
before she noticed it and got sidetracked by it, and this wasn't
helping. On the other hand in a way it was a blessing that I was
starting to get so long: she'd now gotten up high enough that her bush
was pinning only the tip of my penis against my stomach; if she got
another inch higher, or if it had been an inch shorter, the head of it
would slip between her legs and slide up inside her when she came down.
She continued straining, squeezing me still tighter after her upward
motion stopped, trying somehow to get just a little more elevation.
Gasping with effort, she grunted, "How. . . much. . . farther?"

"About three more inches."

With a nearly audible sigh, she gave up, and came slowly back down, my
penis just missing entering her and sliding up along her bush. Her lip
was quivering, and the tears were streaming again. "I'm sorry, Uncle
Denny, I'm so sorry. Sorry about everything. I couldn't get up any
higher. We're just stuck here until they find us." I could feel her
hands writhing behind me, trying desperately once more to free
themselves. She was building up to a panic again, and trying to prevent
that was a useful way of keeping me from panicking myself.

"Stop, Diana, stop, stop." I tried to let my voice trail away instead of
getting more excited. Finally it seemed there was no other way than the
strategy that worked before. I kissed her, and she tightened her arms
around me and kissed me hard, her overwrought emotions translating
quickly into a renewal of the obsessive passion that had got us in
trouble in the first place. It was hard work breaking off the kiss --
she seemed desperate to hang onto it, but at last I shook my head
away from her and said, "Diana, can you listen to me now? Listen,
listen. . ." I kept saying it until I finally had her attention. She
nodded.

"That little lamp on the nightstand, by the bed. You know how it turns
on. Could you do it if we got over there?"

She looked towards it. It was about twice as far away as we'd already
moved. "Yeah, I guess so," still sniffling. The clock, by now, said
1:30. We'd spent nearly two hours in serious attempts to get loose, so
far with nothing to show for it. We should be able to get to the night-
stand, but if somehow that didn't work I didn't think we'd have time to
try anything else. And I couldn't think of what else there could be.

The first problem was to get away from the wall without making noise.
"Lean your head against the wall and push us out from it." She was in a
better position to do it than I was. Once we were about four inches out,
it seemed safe to get moving again. I was facing away from the bed,
though. "Get us back the way we came, now. We'll go along the wall for
now, then I'll start turning us and moving us the right way."

For about ten minutes I had to take her crotch banging against my penis
again, and it continued stiffening, partly in excitement, partly self-
defense. We moved about two feet in that time, enough to put us nearly
at the foot of the bed. Far enough.

"Okay, stop. I'll start moving us around the bed." I felt better about
moving us myself as much as possible; we made a little less noise when I
did it. 

I'm sure You remember hearing from me on that trip -- I'm sorry about
some of the things I said on the way, You know I don't usually use that
sort of language. I figured we had time to get to the light. The low
point was when we came to the rug in front of the bed and found we
couldn't get the chair up onto it -- it's not a very thick rug, but
there was no way to get enough leverage or momentum to roll up onto it.
It was hard to keep from swearing out loud, and Diana was getting
scared. Her arms tightened around me, her breasts and tummy pressed hard
against me, tears rolling down her cheek. I kissed the top of her head
and then, as she looked up at me, her cheek and finally her lips. I
started to get lost in the sensations again, her lips were so soft and
sweet, quivering against mine. I think it calmed both of us down,
though, and I managed to tear myself away from the kiss before I lost
control altogether and nodded towards the lamp. "We've still got to get
over there. It's nearly 2:15 now. We'll have to go around the rug, but I
think we can still make it. You ready?" She nodded, and I started
rocking us again, slowly turning us and starting around the rug.

We had to stop and rest several times, sweat running down both of us,
and each time she squeezed her body against mine, laying her head on my
shoulder and giving my neck a kiss. It was always hard to make myself
get going again, my eye on the clock.

At 3:55 we reached the lamp, with my back towards it so her hands could
reach it. We were right in front of the window by then, clouds still
hiding the moon that would have made the long trip unnecessary. It
hadn't sunk in until then that when she switched on the lamp and lit the
room we'd be clearly visible from outside: we were so close to the
window that we could be seen from the sidewalk in front of my old house
now. There was nothing we could do about it: there was no time to
somehow drag the nightstand away from where it was, and I didn't think
we could even move it if there *was* time. I didn't think it would be
likely anybody would be strolling by at that hour, but my heart started
pounding at the thought that maybe, just maybe, some insomniac neighbor
would get an unexpected bonus during his nighttime prowls.

Diana looked at the window and gasped, and I could tell she was
realizing the same thing.

"There's no help for it, Diana. Just go ahead and turn it on. We've got
to get out of here."

She pressed herself against me once more, reaching for the lamp behind
me.

"Can you get us a few inches closer, Uncle Denny? It's too far from the
edge of the nightstand. I can almost get it."

I sighed and wriggled to get us moving just a little further back, and
my heart skipped a beat when the chair tapped against the edge of the
nightstand, because it made noise -- it took a few more seconds for the
other implications to reach me, and I nearly groaned out loud in
frustration.

"Diana, are you sure you can't reach it? This is as close to it as we're
going to get. We'll just push the nightstand away if we move any more."

In a teary voice that was in danger of being too loud, she said, "Yes,
yes, I'm sure. I'd know if I could reach it and I can't."

"Shhh, shh. Try again, honey. I'll lean back as much as I can. You've
got to reach it." I pressed myself against the seat back, and she
tightened her elbows against my sides like a vice and straightened her
arms until the cord around her wrists stopped her. I knew by her 
reaction that it wasn't working. She gave up finally and laid her head
on my shoulder, quivering, sniffling, her own shoulders heaving in the
effort to hold back sobs.

I concentrated on resigning myself to what was going to happen. I don't
really remember talking to You in particular. I think I assumed even You
couldn't manage to get me out of this one.

But really, You aren't going to tell me that break in the clouds, after
all those hours, was a coincidence.

Suddenly there was all this moonlight coming through the window. I think
Diana had her eyes closed. I had to wriggle against her to get her
attention.

"Diana, we've got light. Can you see the dial?"

She stirred and squirmed in my lap, and looked over my shoulder towards
her wrists.

"Yes!" I winced at how loud her whisper was. "Just a second, I think I
can get it." She concentrated for about five seconds, and then I heard
the greatest, most wonderful sound that had ever come into my ears:

Click.

She leaned back and looked at me, her eyes bright in the moonlight --
seeming to shine with more light than that. She hugged me excitedly and
kissed me.

I broke off the kiss. "Diana, we've got to get out of here now. Your
dad's going to get up in a few minutes. Untie both of us now, okay?" I
tried to hold her eyes with mine, and shook my head when she tried to
kiss me again.

That impish grin was back. Butterflies flooded my stomach when I saw it.

"I want to make love one more time. Can we?"

I shook my head again. "We don't have time, honey. We've got to get out
of here now."

"We've got time. Dad's not even up yet, I'd hear him if he was. He'll at
least take a shower first. He always takes his shower in the morning.
Oh please, Uncle Denny! I could still scream, you know." She sat 
straight up and gathered her breath, still smiling.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. That was probably a mistake, giving
up eye-contact with her. Before I'd got them opened again I felt her
lips against mine, her mouth open, moving. She was freeing her wrists
from the cords at the same time, and in a moment one of her hands was
caressing the back of my neck, the other rubbing my back, then reaching
down and stroking my penis.

I tried to say no again. I really tried, You know I did. But the
excitement was building, I was hard as a steel rod by now, and the
feeling of her young naked body entwined with mine was just too much. We
kept our lips in contact as she lifted her bottom off my lap and let my
penis slip between her legs and up inside her once more. I sucked on her
lips, licked them, let my tongue battle with hers as her hips wriggled
on mine rythmically, letting me slip in and out, in and out. I smelled
her perfume, felt her buttocks fitting perfectly into the curve of my
hips and legs, her stomach rubbing mine. I had absolutely no thought
about who she was or where we were now, there was no feeling in my world
except excitement and sweetness, and wanting to feel it forever. When I
came, and she came.... I have a feeling that if we'd been found at that
instant and I died right then, it would be okay, no big deal.

It seemed a bigger deal moments later, on the way down from the peak of
orgasm. All I could think of was I'd spilled more of my seed into her,
and that in about ten minutes the whole world was going to blow up.

"Diana? You've got to untie me now. Diana? Okay?"

She looked at me dreamily, and -- thank You -- reached down to start
untying her ankles. She started on my bonds then. As she worked at them,
she said, "Uncle Denny? Can we do this again sometime? Okay?"

My jaw dropped open. I was all the way down from the sexual peak now,
and felt as if she was asking for another train wreck after the one we'd
just survived. I just said non-committally that I wasn't sure when I
could be back, stretching it out long enough that she had me loose by
the time I'd said it. I stood up and pulled my pajama bottoms up, and
she stood in front of me, still naked, still gorgeous, still -- Diana.
I didn't think about what I was doing, I just put my arms around her.
She held me tightly. In a way that was nearly the strangest moment of
the whole night to me: just Diana giving a good-night hug to her old
friend Uncle Denny, but both of us bare, me from the waist up, her
altogether. I kissed her again, then gently disentangled myself and
opened the door. I didn't say anything else, but her eyes held mine as I
backed into the hallway. I knew there was no point looking first to see
if the coast was clear. If it wasn't, it was too late.

I went straight to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. I lathered up
and cleaned myself quickly, surprised as I did it at the reluctance I
felt at washing the mixture of our fluids off of me. I got back to the
bedroom and knew I was safe. Escaped. I dressed warmly, using the
coolness of the morning as an excuse to wear a coat with sleaves long
enough to hide the marks on my wrists.

I'm sure Perry thought I was pretty distracted during the day. My mind
wasn't really on it. When he ducked into a convenience store along the
way I made a quick call to Robert on my cell phone, telling him to call
me back in a couple of hours to claim there was some problem at the
office and I needed to get back and handle it. I told him I'd explain
later. I did, sort of. One more lie, sorry.

I didn't see Diana again at the house as I packed to leave. Jessica said
Diana claimed she wasn't feeling well and was sleeping in her room. I
know she would have gotten up if she'd expected me back this early, but
it was just as well she missed me. I apologized to Perry and hugged
Jessica goodbye, and said I'd call them soon.

That's been four months ago. Every day I've dreaded getting a call from
Perry about a pregnancy test and confession by Diana. Or from the
police. By now I guess I must be safe: if it was going to happen it
would have happened by now. I haven't heard anything from Perry.

But I've got these letters from Diana.

She sends me about one a week. Sometimes two. I haven't opened them.
They're sitting in front of me here: 22 of them. Perfumed, with little
hearts on them. I have a good guess what's in them. I've tried to put
the whole thing out of my mind. It was the scariest experience of my
life. But... I feel them tugging at me. The letters. I smell them and
they smell just like her body, warm, soft, sexy, so exciting, wrapped
around me.

It'd be okay to read one, wouldn't it? I can handle it. It'd probably
remind me that she's just a little girl with a terrible crush on me. It
wouldn't make me want to see her again, would it? Maybe she doesn't even
want to. How will I know if I don't read one? And how will I get her off
my mind while these letters are sitting here unopened? Help me out here,
God. Wait, let me just read this one here...

[end]




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