Message-ID: <11189eli$9805112129@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/11189.txt> From: Spoonbender <Theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk> Subject: ** NEW ** The Summer of Love (M/F, Cons) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: Theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk 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: <355796b5.1233998033@news.demon.co.uk> The Summer of Love (MF, cons) ************************************************** c) 1998 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are underage then don't read. Can be freely distributed as long as it is not changed, including this heading. If it is to be archived then please email me first for permission and I want unrestricted access to the archive. It may not be used as part of any fee-paying service. Please note that the characters in this story are completely fictional and bear no resemblance to anyone living or dead. Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies you want put into words, etc. Don't flame me if you don't like the content or you don't like my style. My email address is: Theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk ************************************************** "What's wrong, Marianne?" Shirley enquired. Marianne shrugged and looked dejected. "Nothing." "Oh, come on. You can tell me, that's what I'm here for," Shirley persisted. But it elicited no reply, except for an even glummer visage. "Is it Johnny?" Marianne shot her friend a sharp look then seemed to slump in on herself again. "All right, don't tell me," sniffed Shirley and, slinging her schoolbag over her shoulder, she strode purposefully off. She'd only gone a few steps when Marianne called out. "Yes! In a way." Shirley stopped and turned to her. "Have you split up?" "No, no." A vehement shake of the head. "It's nothing like that. It's just that I....." she petered off. "What?" enquired her friend, her curiosity piquing. "Oh, Shirley!" The tears had started to flow now. "I don't know what to do." "About what? Oh come on, Mar, a problem shared is a problem halved and all that." "I'm pregnant." "Wow! Really? How did that happen? I didn't even know you and Johnny had done it." "We haven't, that's part of the problem." "Come on, you've got to tell me! So who was it?" "You remember that party at Phil's place?" Her friend nodded. "Well, me and Johnny had a row and he stormed off. I stayed behind and smoked too much pot. At the end of the night one of the guys gave me a lift home. You remember Steve? Well he stopped on the way and... well, one thing led to another and we ended up doing it." "Weren't you on the pill?" Marianne shook her head. "It was my first time." She blushed. "I always thought the first time was free," mused her friend. "So did I, but now I'm a month late. And I'm normally really regular." By now she was crying in earnest. Shirley dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around her friend. "I'm so sorry," she said to her friend. They clung to each other for a while then Shirley said, "We could ask my eldest sister. She'll know what to do." "She will?" snivelled Marianne. "Of course. I'll ask her tonight." "Would you?" Shirley put her arm round her friend's shoulder. "Course I will. That's what friends are for." ************************************************* "I think you know my sister, Alison?" "Yes. Hello, Alison." They shook hands like they were concluding a business deal. "Hello yourself," smiled the brassy blonde. She turned to her sister. "Go for a walk or something, will you? I'm going to talk about stuff you shouldn't hear." Shirley tilted her chin and looked as defiant as she could. "Maybe I should know too." "I said, hop it. So go!" Her tone brooked no argument. Shirley walked slowly away, her eyes spitting venom. "So," said Alison, after Shirley disappeared from sight. "You've got a little problem, have you?" She seemed amused. Marianne nodded. "Can you help me? Shirley said you may know somebody who could.... you know?" "Get rid of it?" "Er...yes," wishing she hadn't put it so crudely. "Have you tried gin and a bath?" "The what?" "The gin and bath routine. Don't you know anything? Obviously not. Look... run a bath as hot as you can stand and then drink as much of a bottle of gin as you can. It sometimes works." "And if it doesn't?" "In that case we try plan B. I know this guy that can get rid of it for you. But it's expensive. It'll cost you a hundred pounds." "A hundred? I haven't got that sort of money," wailed Marianne. "How much can you raise?" "I've got about seventy pounds in savings." "See, that's a start. What about the father, won't he help?" She shook her head sorrowfully. "No. When I told him he laughed and told me it was my tough luck." "Men, eh?" The older girl spat. "Can't trust 'em in a crisis. So it looks like you're on your own. How you going to raise the rest?" "I could get a part-time job. And I could sell some stuff." "A part-time job? By the time you earned enough the kid would be going to college. As far as selling some stuff is concerned, what have you got that's worth anything?" "I got my record player and my records. All the good stuff. I got the Rolling Stones, The Doors, the Beatles, I've even got the new Sergeant Pepper's album," she said hopefully. "Anything else?" "Not really." "Well that should raise about a fiver. Only twenty to go. What about your parents - she saw the look of horror on the girl's face - I guess not eh? Well it don't leave much option does it?" "What do you mean?" "Get wise. There is only one way of raising that sort of cash in a hurry and that is the same way as you got into this mess in the first place." "Pardon?" "How'd you get pregnant?" "I...er.... you know." "You got it on, right? You let him fuck you." "Yes, so....?" "So that's how you get out of it again." "What do you mean?" "Are you are total moron? To raise that sort of money, you've got to fuck someone else, for cash." Marianne's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no! That would make me a ........" She fell speechless as the horror of it unfolded before her. "A prossie, right? Fucking guys for cash. That makes you feel bad, does it? Why'd you do it in the first place? For love?" Marianne shook her head. "What was it then?" "I was stoned." The older girl laughed uproariously. "You turn down my idea because it is so awful, yet you've done it before, for free. And I bet you can hardly remember it. I'm right, aren't I?" The downcast eyes said it all. The older girl's attitude softened. "Listen, it won't be so bad. A young girl like you. You're what? Seventeen, right? Sweet, innocent. You'd only need to do it once. Then it'd be all over. You don't have to do anything, just lie there. Let him do all the work. Then, afterwards, a quick bath and off to see the guy I know. A couple of weeks from now it'll all be history. As for the alternatives... well!" They stood silently for a few moments, while the younger girl chewed her bottom lip and a solitary tear trickled down her face. Just as Alison was about to give up on her, she spoke. "How would I meet a man? I mean I can't just go asking strangers in the street!" "I could arrange that," the older girl said bluntly. "How?" "I just can, right? Okay, are you going to do it or not?" "What would I have to do?" "For a mum-to-be, you are pretty dumb. Basically it's the same as how it got in there in the first place." "I know that bit." The tears were starting again. "How would I meet him? And when?" "Oh, right. I see what you mean. Listen, there's an old hotel down in Chapelgate, near the docks. It's called the Lord Nelson. You know it?" Marianne shook her head. "Listen, it's easy to find. Just take a 38 bus from outside the school gates and stay on it until you see the hotel on the left. You can't miss it, it's a huge place. Got that?" A nod. "Good. Once inside go to reception and ask if there are any messages for Miss Smith. You will be handed a piece of paper which will have a room number on it. Just go to that room and... well, let nature take its course from that point on. Oh yeah, one last thing, get the money before you start, okay? They don't always want to pay afterwards. Okay, questions?" "Er, when shall I...?" "Are you on the phone at home?" Marianne shook her head, there was a 2 year waiting list for a phone to be installed. "Okay, I'll pass a message via Shirley." She saw the look of panic cross the younger girl's face. "Don't worry, she won't know what it's about. She'll think it's something to do with the abortion." She put her arm around the younger girl's shoulder. "Listen, don't worry, its not so bad. A lot of them are really nice guys, anyway, what's one fuck, eh? You'd do that with your boyfriend in one night and not think about it. Anyway you'll never see him again. So cheer up." She put her finger under the girl's chin and lifted her face up. Marianne smiled wanly. 'One day!' thought Alison. 'One day, the politicians will wake up to what's happening to young girls like her and will have the guts to legalise abortion.' She hoped it would be soon. Then, maybe, girls wouldn't be quite so dependent on men. It would be one more step towards their freedom and equality. ************************************************* Contrary to her expectations the hotel was surprisingly well-maintained throughout. Granted, it was old, but it had been modernised with both flair and taste. The lobby was bright and airy and the receptionists were well-dressed and pleasant. "May I help you?" asked the smiling man, who was manning the reception desk. "I... er ... is there a message for a Miss Smith?" "Wait a second," he said, sifting through the stack of messages. "Yes. Here we are." He handed her the folded piece of paper. "Thank you," she said as she opened it. 'Room 297' was all it said. Walking to the elevator she thought she could feel the eyes of everyone in the lobby boring into her back. But a quick glance over her shoulder dispelled the mental image, everybody, and that included the receptionist, were busily going about their business, blissfully unaware of the uniform-clad prostitute in their midst. She wished she had changed into 'normal' clothes, but there just wasn't the time. She was due back in school in a little over 50 minutes and she didn't think she could spare the extra few minutes it would take to change. It seemed like a good decision at the time, but now she wasn't so sure. The man, whoever he was, would know which school she was from. He could trace her. But it was too late. At the end of the corridor she noticed a bathroom and she ducked inside to put some makeup on. Once inside she tried to still her trembling hands as she applied some mascara. She was shaking so much it smudged and she had to start over. Finally she was ready. She took a deep breath and stepped back into the corridor. A few short strides and she was there. "Room 297," said the sign on the door. Her fate lay beyond it. She stood for long seconds trying to control the hysterical beating of her heart as it hammered away in her chest. Fighting the urge to flee, she tapped on the door. "Wait!" boomed the stentorian voice from within, followed a few seconds later by the door being flung open. He was surprisingly handsome, big, without being fat, with a full bushy beard and twinkling amused eyes. "Yes?" he said. "Please sir, you sent for me." It was all she could think to say. "I did? Ah! You must be the company I ordered." He looked her up and down. "You're a little young, aren't you? Are you sure you're old enough?" "I'm seventeen," she said, a spark of defiance colouring her voice. "Oh! Well, in that case you had better come in," he said with a laugh, and then stood aside to let her pass. The room was larger and airier than Marianne was expecting. She took a few steps inside and stopped by the bed. She heard the door close behind her and she realised this was it. There was no escape now. Even if she didn't do it, she might as well have. She darted a furtive glance around the room, through the curtain of her fashionably long dark hair. Her eyes were drawn to the chair on which the jacket was draped, a dark jacket with four gold rings on the sleeve. She heard the creak of the bed as he sat down. She turned and looked at him. He had a sardonic smile on his face as he perched comfortably on the bed. They stared at each other for long seconds before he spoke. "Aren't you supposed to tell me something?" "Like what?" "Well, the reason you are here would do for a start." "Don't you know? I'm here to... do it." A long pause. "With you." "You don't sound very sure. Are you sure that you want to do it?" She nodded, her stomach churning. "Why?" "I must have the money. I really need it." "What is it? Drugs?" "No, no. It's nothing like that, it's just that I..." She struggled to discuss her problem with a stranger. Then, to her surprise, he ventured, "You're in trouble, aren't you?" "How do you know?" she said, with a start. "Why else would a young girl need so much money? I'm right, aren't I? She nodded. "How much do you want?" "Thirty pounds." She felt horrible discussing the sale of her body with a stranger, but it had to be done. "No, in total." "Total?" The unexpected turn surprised her. "Yes, how much are they going to charge you to do it?" "A hundred pounds." "Hmm. That's a lot of money. Listen, you don't have to do this. I could lend you the money and you could pay me back over time. Don't worry. I'm at sea most of the time and I have very little to spend it on. So I can certainly afford it. Besides, a little humanity never hurt anybody. So, what do you say?" "You'd give it to me?" she shook her head. "I couldn't take it, I just couldn't. I don't even know you." "You were prepared to sleep with me without knowing my name, but if I offer you the money as a loan you feel it's at odds with your personal etiquette. That's a fine set of rules you have written for yourself there," he mused as he tapped his lips with his forefinger. She stood, picking at a loose thread on her school uniform jacket, trying to formulate a sensible answer. He stood up and walked over to his gold-ringed coat. He delved into the inside pocket and pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open he counted out twenty five pound notes. He then walked over to her and stuffed them into her top pocket. "There!" he said. "All done. Now you are a free agent. You can walk out of here without a stain on either your character or your conscience. Just think of it as a gift from an old man who hates to see unhappy young girls." She stood for a second then flew at him, wrapping her arms around his body. She revelled in the smell of him, the deep, clean masculine odour overlaid with the tang of his pipe tobacco. "Now that's what I call a hell of a thank you." He smiled down at the top of her head. Then he noticed her shoulders were heaving and he gently reached down and tilted her face up towards his. "Hey, what's this? Don't cry." "I can't help it," she sobbed. "You're the kindest man I've ever met." Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed him full on the lips. The feel of his hard body against hers and the look on the strong smiling face caused a tremor to flicker through her. Suddenly she knew she wanted more and pulled his head towards hers, mashing her mouth hard against his. He drew away slightly and looked her in the eye. "You don't have to do this, you know." "I know... but I want to." With that, she took his hand from her chin and placed it directly onto her breast. He squeezed her gently and reflexively and she moaned as tremor of ecstasy rippled through her. "Please make love to me," she breathed. "Are you sure?" "Yes, yes. I'm sure. I want you." He scooped her up off the floor like she was a child and carried her over to the bed. Gently he laid her down and proceeded to press his lips hard over hers. Instinctively she opened her mouth and their tongues duelled passionately. Meanwhile his hands, so big and clumsy looking, displayed an amazing degree of finesse as they teased open the buttons on her white, cotton blouse. When the blouse was opened he delicately parted the material to expose her snow white bra. He stopped for a moment and looked her in the eye. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel you are under any pressure." "Please," was her reply. The bra opened at the front and, with a dexterity that bespoke of long practise, he opened it with a deft twist of his fingers. The bra fell open to reveal her breasts, snow white and plumply inviting with the little pink nipples already stiff and swollen. His mouth dropped down and engulfed her left nipple. She shuddered luxuriantly as a thrill of passion blossomed inside her body. She never knew such feelings could possibly have existed and she thought she would burst with the exquisite pleasure of it all. His tongue darted and dipped at her nipple and his mouth worked around in circles as if he was prospecting her breast. "Hmmm," she murmured when he removed his mouth momentarily before taking possession of her other breast in his delicious maw. Meanwhile his hand darted down and rubbed her thigh just below her hemline. She could feel the fire on her skin where the fingers made contact with her soft downy flesh. His hand started to work its way under the hem, the touch as soft as goosedown but with a feeling of unleashed power in the large, muscular fingers. She was un-evolving rapidly, soon acting on a purely instinctual level, murmuring weakly she parted her thighs to give him unfettered access to her innermost secrets, which lay humidly beckoning between the warm darkness of her thighs. When his finger touched her sex it was like she had been immersed in a cocoon of silken bliss. Her whole being focussed in on her erogenous areas as he continued to suck and maul her breasts while his hand worked its magic below her. She knew he could feel her dampness through the plain cotton gusset of her workday school panties. Her passion now knew no bounds and she ached for the fulfilment that only he could grant her. And so it was with a mixture of mild trepidation and wanton urgency that she lifted her bottom obligingly when his hands started to pull her panties down from inside her skirt. She could feel them slipping away, like an old life, as he slid them slowly down the full length of her long, slim legs. They snagged briefly on her ankle then they were gone, flung in the heat of their passion away across the room. He released her breasts and again their mouths melded as he started to unbutton his shirt in a fever of lust. When it was open her little hands helped to push it from his shoulders and down his back. Her hands then danced a tango over his firm, warm flesh as he redirected his urgency to his trousers. She caught a fleeting glimpse of his erection, large and mildly terrifying. But then, as if the curtain had been drawn over the scene again, her passion surged once more and she parted her thighs to allow him access to her honeyed depths. He flipped her skirt up and she could feel his body insinuating itself between her thighs. Then he was at her gate and the feel of his warm insistence made her grip his shoulders tightly, her hands digging into his flesh as if to urge him into her. He moved and the head parted her lips. She craved him to plunge into her, to take her, to master her, to conquer her with his power. And she bent her knees to allow him easier access. Slowly and carefully he pushed into her. There was no pain, no discomfort and no urgency, unlike her first time. Now it was pure and unhurried. Deeper and deeper he pushed while she twisted her hips and pushed against the hard swell of his butt with her hands as if to help him to consummate their mutual passion. The feeling of fullness yielded to sparks of fire which coursed up and down her spine, as he started to stroke inside her. Dimly she could hear herself screaming out as he repeatedly pounded into her. At first her legs kicked wildly then they drew themselves around his frantically convulsing back until, finally, her ankles locked behind him. He was a skilled and varied lover and he taught her more about the arts of love in those few short minutes, than most girls would experience throughout the duration of their teenage years. His skills, the fruit of long practise in all the principal ports of the world, were played out to her eagerly questing body as they soared together. It was as if the whole world had been honed down to just them two, adrift on a sea of ecstasy such as she never thought could possibly exist. The young girl and her skilful middle-aged lover making passionate love, absorbed and needful of each other, their mutual pleasures entwined frantically together in a rhythm as timeless as time itself. Finally the denouement! She felt herself hovering on the brink of an abyss so deep she felt that she might not re-emerge as her orgasm started to erupt within her. She moaned, she thrashed and she dug her nails deeply into his back as she stretched out for the summit of her bliss. Higher she climbed and faster he plunged. Then it hit her. Her eyes closed tightly and she screamed out as her orgasm pole-axed her. Her legs wrapped themselves tighter around him and her arms drew him as close as her puny strength allowed, as she hit her heights. She flew in space, fireworks bursting around her as her shuddering climax continued, onwards and upwards. Ever upwards. Her ankles were pounding into his ass and her thighs gripped him tightly as she felt the sudden rush of warmth inside her. He was coming and it was like a torrent unleashed within her silken depths. The power of it made her lose all control and kicked and screamed her way through to the summation of her climax as he pursued his, within her. Finally it was over, but they clung tightly to each other as if to deny the ebbing of the sensations within their bodies. For a full two minutes they clung like limpets then, slowly, her ankles relaxed and she fell open , releasing him from her velvet prison. He rolled off her and they both lay panting for long minutes. She looked at her watch. "Christ!" She only had five minutes to catch her bus back to school. Feverishly she pulled her clothes back together and dashed over to the mirror in order to try and tease some semblance of order into her tousled hair. She caught a glimpse of him relaxing on the bed smiling at her and she smiled back. She looked around the room for her panties, but they were nowhere to be seen. She decided to leave them. Maybe they would be something that he could remember her by. It seemed the least she could do. Finally she was ready and she darted over to the bed and kissed him fully on the lips. "Thank you," she said. "That was beautiful." "And so are you." He smiled back. It was only as she was walking through the school gate that she realised that she didn't know his name and that she could never return the loan. ************************************************** It was hearing Sergeant Pepper's again that brought the memories flooding back to me. Beatles memorabilia was all the rage again and now it was Daughter's turn to puzzle out the mysteries of 'A day in the life." Just like I did so many years ago. Whenever they talk about the summer of love, I always remember my little corner of it. It was when I truly became a woman. ************************************************ Just flexing my literary muscles a little. Your views would be appreciated. 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