Message-ID: <10764eli$9804301420@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com
Subject: {SJR}JDR"The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane 11A"( bf mF mF+ )[39/52]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Note: This message was posted by a secure email service.  Please report MISUSE OR ABUSE of this automated secure email service to <abuse@anon.nymserver.com>.
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <6i96oq$d66$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 11A:

    I sat dumbfounded while viewing my first foreign-language film -- so
amazed, that at first I didn't feel Martha nudge me with her elbow in the
dark theater until she did so insistently.  I turned to her.  She smiled
and wiggled her fingers near my face.  Understanding, I held her hand in
mine.  She smiled again, playfully, and hugged our clasped hands against
her thigh over her skirt.  She rubbed my arm cozily, and turned back to
the movie.

    I had never seen such a film.  The movie was "Bicycle Thief," which
had been released years earlier.  The lilting rhythm of the original,
unedited Italian dialogue rolling off the actors' lips, the newness of
their attitudes and the earthy acting style -- all of it had me, as had
happened so many times since I arrived in New York, sitting with my eyes
bulging and my mouth open.

    When we left the cinema I was dazed.  Everything I knew about acting
and theater production and movie-making had been expanded beyond my
expectations.  I sat wordlessly at our late dinner in a Village beatnik
coffee shop.

    Martha asked, "Is anything wrong?  You look lost."

    I explained with difficulty, "My brain is working overtime."

    And it was.  So many impressions were striking me at once that I was
soon exhausted trying to sort them out and keep track of everything.  We
took a long walk all the way uptown to her apartment, during which I had
to inspect every store window and peer around corners to see what was
there.  It seemed every inch of Third Avenue presented something new and
exotic.  Martha was pleased that I was so enchanted.

    "It's a little intimidating," I mused aloud as we strolled with
Martha hugging my arm.

    "It doesn't really frighten you, does it?"

    "It's a lot like being in the middle of something that has no begin-
ning and no end.  And that movie -- now I have to learn about the theater
all over again.  From scratch.  All of this..it just keeps going, doesn't
it?  It never stops."

    "Oh, it stops.  At around 4 A.M., for an hour or so."

    In her apartment as we prepared for bed, Martha told me about the
schedule for tomorrow.  I had Fiore at ten, and Ronnie would meet me at
noon where she worked at 33rd and Madison.  She would take me to the
eyeglass dealer and help me choose a set of frames.  Then I was free,
until Martha returned at around five.  Martha would wake at six and be
ready to go to a meeting at Columbia by seven.

    "I dread these things," she said, slipping out of her skirt.  "So
political, so artificial.  Everything is numbers, bureaucrats, commit-
tees.  For such educated people, there seems to be no one person who can
do or decide anything alone."

    I watched her.  She removed her bra, her panties.  She stood naked,
her flesh glowing in the lamplight.  She reached into a drawer for her
pajamas -- blue ones this time -- and started unfolding them.

    My balls ached.  I was accustomed to her making the first move or
giving the first signals.  Holding back, I felt myself tremble.  I looked
down at my shaking hands.  How long, I asked, would I continue to be so
unsure of a woman who so obviously desired me?  Or was it just the
vitamins and Fiore's workout?  Or was this really me, my new sexuality
more demanding that it was back in Memphis?  Almost always, sex with
Martha was prefaced by moments of relaxed conversation and sweet touch-
ing.  That, I told myself, was the emotional warmup.  What I felt now was
spurred not by emotion; it was almost entirely physical.

    Standing in my underwear, I looked at her nakedness as she talked 
about the meeting and unbuttoned her neatly packed pajama top.  She was 
luscious.  Her breasts jiggled lightly as her hands worked at the 
buttons.  She stood with one leg on the floor and one knee on the bed, 
as she rambled on.  She had the pajama shirt unbuttoned and would soon 
have it on, covering her pink-tipped breasts.

    I stopped thinking.  I walked to the bedside lamp and turned it off.
She stopped talking and looked up at me.  I stared daringly into her
wondering face as I approached her.  I dipped my head, licked a breast,
found her nipple with my tongue, and sucked.

    I heard her murmur "Hmm.  Hon."  Her fingers held the breast to my
mouth and I suckled gently.  I raised my head and placed my lips into the
warm hollow of her throat.  She sighed pleasurably as I kissed and licked
my way up her long neck.  I looked at her.  She was smiling at me, her
eyes narrowed and warm and sultry.

    "Your mouth feels good on me," she said.

    I held her by her shoulders and gently laid her on the bed.  She lay
with her legs spread, smiling at me languidly from the dark as I removed
my underwear.  She saw that I was already stiff.  I walked to the end of
the bed, my dick wobbling, and knelt on the mattress.  She grinned and
pulled her knees up and opened her thighs and waited.  I moved forward,
and placed my head directly into her crotch, gently spreading her cunt
with my hands, and gave her a long, slow, wet lick along her slit, from
bottom to top.

    "Yes," she breathed softly, "Oh, hon, yes."

    Perhaps it was the lecherous hunger in my mouth and movements that
heated her so quickly.  Holding her furrow open with the spread fingers
of both my hands, I saw her nub was swollen and ready.  I held her open,
her clit totally unbared and defenseless.  She looked down at me as I
dipped my tongue.  I licked, circling slowly.  She uttered "Ah!", and
gritted her teeth and watched my eyes watching hers.  Then her eyes
closed, her neck tensed, her raised knees fell aside and opened her
smoothly tendoned thighs under my shoulders.  I circled my tongue again,
not directly on her clit, but around the firm rim of her cuntlips.  After
a moment I gently sucked her clit.

    She caught her breath.  "Ah.  Nice."

    I settled my mouth into her mound.  Yearningly I started sucking her
clit the way she might suck my longer cock, using my lips as a warm cone
sliding up and down her stiffening length.  Her thighs stiffened, the
tendons throbbed.  She gave a soft, surprised "Oh!"  Her head fell back
and she gasped irregularly, her hips arching.  Unrelenting, I sucked
and stroked with my wet inner lips in a steady rhythm, feeling the smooth
swell of her furrowed mound against my face, feeling her thighs flutter
and her hips flex.  Soon I heard her moan achingly toward the ceiling,
"It's so good.  Oh, it's so GOOD!".  It did not take long for her to
signal that she was near cumming.  Her entire body quivered for a few
seconds, then her thighs widened even more and she began a slow, sensuous
writhing of her hips.

    I stopped, with her close and gasping and writhing.  I rose over her,
my erection swaying, my tip glistening in the dark.  I knelt over her
with my knees astride her head.  I grasped the headboard as I raised my
hips and dangled my cock over her mouth.

    She looked up, surprised.  Her eyes narrowed wickedly. "Yeah," she
whispered.  She reached behind her head and bunched the pillow so that
her head leaned forward comfortably.  She smiled into my eyes as she
gathered spit in her mouth and then extended her tongue to slowly and
completely wet me with long, lingering licks.

    I grinned down at her.  I heard myself whisper lecherously, "Yeah.
Mmm.  Suck it.  Suck."

    With a single movement of her head forward, her mouth enclosed me,
wetly, hotly, immersing me entirely with warm spit and clinging flesh. I
grunted and sighed at the poignant, itching pleasure as she drew her
mouth back and along my entire length with a long slurp.  Then she
mouthed my tip gently with the soft inside of her lips.  My cock jerked
against her mouth.

    "Hmm," she breathed.  She smiled mischievously at me, whispering,
"I love this."

    "Suck," I whispered.

    Her eyes widened lustfully at my words, and she enclosed me again,
nodding with slow, regular, spitty, lingering sucks.  Her mouth moved
only an inch or two, her lips riding loosely and slickly up and down my
cock, the pressure of her tongue on the underside creating most of the
tantalizing sucking effect.

    I sighed hotly, grinning down at her, thinking that what Martha did
when she sucked was not really sucking; it was mouth-fucking, pure and
simple.  Martha, I thought, knew how to make her mouth feel almost
exactly like a warm, affectionate, perpetually moving cunt.  Her skill
had not diminished with time; soon my cock began its mad twitching
against the roof of her mouth and I felt the beginnings of my climax ooze
into the tubes under my cock.  I gently pulled away, her mouth loosing me
with a little slurp.

    My eyes on hers, I watched as I slithered down, straightening my legs
and settling onto her.  The surprise on her face softened when she saw me
rise on my arms and angle my cock toward her opening.  She continued to
gasp, her breath broken and her eyes staring helplessly, pleading to be
filled, telling me she was still near orgasm.  My cock touched her firm,
drippy outer lips.  Her thighs fell open again, and her pelvis lifted to
me, her cuntlips welcoming, kissing, grasping, encircling my tip.  I
moved forward.  And her eyes glistened and I exhaled with the pleasure of
my slide into her, the familiar slickness of her welcoming channel, the
clinging, loving comfort of the gripping flesh of her that my cock had
known so well before.   My shaft lurched upward, saying hello to her
secret place, and she clinched me in return.  And I began to slide in
her, luxuriate in her, with long and deep and slow and powerful and
steady strokes, my butt tightening in the warm hair and my belly grazing
hers.

    "Fuck," she whispered happily, her eyes glistening.  "Fuck."

    I watched her panting.  I felt her spasm wetly around me.  I tight-
ened my tummy and moved upward on her slightly, brushing her seeking and
swollen clit on every glide in and out of her, and her eyes flared with
pleasure.

    I whispered as I moved, "Are you close?"

    She nodded, quickly, her eyes shifting and her breath shuddering.

    I said, "Look at me.  Cum in my eyes.  I want to see your eyes while
you cum."

    Her eyes widened again, excitedly.  Unsmiling and seemingly en-
tranced, she parted her lips and tried to speak, but couldn't.  She
gulped thickly, and started panting.  Her eyes melted into a longing,
helpless stare.  Her nails clamped into my shoulders, her taut arms quiv-
ered.  Balancing on my right hand and still moving inside her, I swooped
my left arm under her, around her trim waist, and held the small of her
back in my spread palm.  I felt the muscles in her hips lurching under my
skin.  I whispered "cum" to her, encouraging, helping, and whispered
"cum" again, watching her eyes, watching her mouth part and her eyes
glaze and watching her lips mouth the word yes and watching her gasp and
mouth yes again and then feeling her stiffen, suddenly, taut as a wire,
her pelvis grinding her firm clit against my shaft, and then her sudden,
moaning, low-pitched, frenzied "Yes!" and she was cumming, her cunt
fiercely clamping, her neck straining, her face nodding and pitching
forward in small spasms as she stared at me and came, and I held her
cheek with my hand and smiled into her face and crooned as her father
might, "Yes.  Yes," and her face and feverish eyes froze with pleasure
and after a moment while she was cumming her throat uttered that strange,
animalistic sound she sometimes made, something between a groan and the
whimper of a helpless infant, and I held her face tenderly and slowed my
fucking to make it last for her, and she shuddered, stiffened, shud-
dered, and finally her face fell forward and her arms enclosed me and she
hugged me to her and opened her mouth against my shoulder and seemed to
scream quietly against my flesh there, and she relaxed, and whimpered,
and gasped for breath, and then fell back with a sigh, her eyes tearing
and her mouth moving with the word Steven, and her face soft and loving
as her fingers held my cheeks, and she whispered plaintively, "Cum in
me.  Cum inside me," and I raised on my arms and looked down at her body
stretched and spread under me and began lancing into her strongly again,
steadily, deeply, and trembling with long-held lust I felt again the new
pleasure of the nub of her womb nip at my tip deep inside her, and she
tightened her cunt on me imploringly and soon I felt the blessed release
and gasped and shook with it, seeing below me what I had always suspected,
that as my glistening shaft pumped into her auburn tuft her tummy did
indeed move, but subtly, her hips rotating in a slow tiny circle so that
her slithering cunt could wring cum from me, asking ruthlessly for it
all, and I slowed and groaned and kept twitching upward against the roof
of her cunt and gushing hotly, hearing the faint slosh of me in her, and
hearing her sweet "mmm" and her softly hissed "Yes" as she raised her
head to watch me fuck into her, and with my last, slowing strokes she
sighed a long, quiet, contented "aahh," and I stopped, and collapsed on
her, feeling her neck hot against my face, and she hugged me warmly and
cuddled into me, and reached down between us for me to raise my belly so
she could give my cock a tug as she liked to do, and then she hugged me
again, my breath hot and damp against her neck, and her hips writhing
happily as my twitches waned inside her.  She raised her legs around me,
her body now enclosing me completely in her heat and damp flesh and the
scent of warm milk that came from her.

    She was still catching her breath.  Against my ear, she gave a low,
pleased chuckle.  "Lord, do you know how to fuck."

    I panted, my aching balls empty.

    After a few moments I whispered, "Don't you have to go to the bath-
room?"

    She sighed wearily.  "Not really.  It's not the right time of the
month."

    "Maybe you should be sure."

    "I'd love to sleep with your cum in me."

    "Mother nature would love it too."

    "Mm...Okay.  But hold me a little longer.  Wait 'til you're asleep."

    At the window, the warm summer night sent a breeze that made the
curtains whisper sleepily.  For a few minutes, I thought, New York was
stilled.  My mind whispered silently: Stay.  Stay here.  Keep holding
her.  Hold this moment.



    Unaccustomed to sleeping for more than five or six hours, I awoke on
Monday a little before six.  Beside me, I saw that Martha had changed
into her blue pajamas while I slept.  I touched my lips to her cheek, and
got out of bed and dressed and made coffee.  I had been sitting in the
dining room only a couple of minutes before I heard the same soft knock
at the door that I'd heard the day before.  Going to the door, I cleared
my throat loudly, as before.

    "Steven?" Ronnie called softly from the other side.

    I opened the door, removing my glasses first.  Ronnie waited in the
same pajamas and bathrobe as yesterday.

    "Steven," she said.  As before, she made the same begging gesture and
sheepish grin.  "Sugar?"

    "Sure," I said, extending my arm into the room.  She tiptoed into the
kitchen.  I sat waiting at the dining table until she tiptoed out again,
holding a coffee cup half-filled with sugar.  I opened the front door for
her.

    She glanced at the sofa, which of course was made up and intact as
before.  "What a fireball," she whispered, slithering into the hall.

    I closed the door and turned to hear Martha rustling in the bedroom.
In a few seconds she appeared in the living room doorway as she had
yesterday when Ronnie borrowed coffee.  Martha slumped in her pajamas and
scratched her side.  Her face was half-covered with the same fuzzy tousle.

    "Ronnie again?" she slurred.

    I nodded.  "Right.  She ran out of sugar."

    "God...she's so disorganized."

    She stumbled into the bathroom.  I read the Sunday New York Times
that I had not finished the day before.  After a minute I heard Martha
dropping things in the bathroom again.  In a few seconds she emerged,
carrying an armful of cosmetics and drifting toward the kitchen.  She
stopped in the kitchen door and sniffed, testing the air.  She turned to
me, her eyes still half-closed behind the hair in her face.

    "You made coffee again?" she asked.

    "Yes," I said, looking up from my newspapers.

    She paused, seeming to fall asleep for a second or two, then drifted
toward me and dropped the cosmetics on the table and shoved the table
away from me with her hips, and then settled with a plop onto my lap and
buried her face in my shoulder.  She kissed my neck.  She nestled into my
shoulder for a minute, her breathing still noisy and sleepy.

    She pulled her head away and looked at me, eyes hooded.

    "Kiss me," she murmured, a little drunk with sleep.

    We kissed, warmly.

    She pulled away.  Still sleepy, she gazed without expression at my
mouth.  She shifted on my lap, closer to me, her arms around my neck.

    "Kiss me again," she murmured.

    I did, for a long sweet minute.

    She pulled away.  She paused.  She made a sound that was something
like a little whimper of frustration.

    "Kiss me again," she murmured.

    I did, more longingly this time, giving her lips a little lick while
we were still connected.

    Pulling away, she experimentally ran her tongue around her lips.
"Mm.  New sensation."  She looked at me, her half-closed eyes hidden
behind her hair.  Mostly, I saw nose, lips, and chin.  "You never did it
that way before."

    "I didn't?"

    She shook her head no.  She leaned down.  "Kiss me again," she
murmured.

    I did.  This time she gently invaded my mouth with her tongue, which
wrestled wetly with mine for a few seconds.  When she pulled away she
rested her forehead against mine.

    "Do you know what you did to me last night?" she whispered.

    "I have a vague recollection," I said.

    "Try to remember.  I want you to do it again when I get home this
afternoon."

    "I'll consult my notes."

    "Okay."  She rubbed her nose listlessly.  "Remember," she said, "Fiore
at ten.  Ronnie at twelve.  Then rest.  Then me."

    "Okay."

    "You were very good last night."

    "Mm.  Thank you, Miss Scarlett."

    "We're seeing West Side Story tonight, don't forget."

    "Will we have time for that, and for you when you get home?"

    She said, "Mm-hm," and then tilted her face again, her mouth parting.
"Kiss me again," she murmured.

    I did.

    Finally she pulled away, patted my shoulders, and rose.  Gathering
her cosmetics, she sighed, "What a delicious mouth," and she drifted
toward the kitchen.  Again, she stripped quickly, affording me another
view of her perfect, lithe body from the rear, and stepped into the
shower.

    I thought, my groin aching from the past three days:  Fiore, help me
with this.

                   ====================================
                   THE ADVENTURES OF ME AND MARTHA JANE
                                 by S.J.R.
                               ============
                                 PART 11A
                                   -30-


-- 
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |