The Adult Story Hub

Permission to post this story on sites where access is free, provided the warning above and author information remain intact is hereby granted. The author retains intellectual property rights, Copyright (c) 2004 Janna Leonard.
By Janna Leonard (sensuscribe3@yahoo.com)


I was almost resigned to a life of quiet desperation accompanied by my inner demons when a small miracle occurred. It happened when I was 19 and living in Sanger, Missouri, home of the famous Art School. Situated on the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi, the 2500 or so hardy residents made their living from the faculty and students, overcharging them for almost everything.

Typically mid-western, flat with streets laid out in neat squares, the town consisted of 2 banks, a bowling alley, the VFW post and assorted restaurants, bars and gas stations. There was a library, 2 motels out by the interstate bypass and of course the town square. If you got bored you could always drive west for a few miles and watch the corn grow, assuming there wasn't a blizzard in progress.

Then there was 'The School', founded in 1890 whenever by one Arthur Sanger, his estate providing instruction for deserving students of the arts. Fees were based on a person's income (in my case, nothing) and submission of a sample of your work to determine whether you were worthy. Sculpting, photography and painting were in the curriculum along with sundry other things that artsy folks do.

I'd submitted my samples and been accepted as a student 'pending an opening', and had driven down from Chicago to see if I could find some housing I could afford and reclaim my portfolio. It contained the best of everything I'd done since age 14 with my camera and a sketchpad. The housing available was limited, overpriced and shabby, and I decided to return to Aunt Mary's in Chicago.

On the way out of town I stopped at Betty's Place, a Mom and Pop diner-coffee shop for a cup and a thermos fill for the road. Betty and I got to talking and she learned I was going to go to "The School" but needed an affordable place to live. I found out Betty needed a waitress to work the breakfast/lunch rush, she wasn't quite so quick on her feet anymore, what with the 'arthritis' and all, and she offered me the job with the apartment upstairs thrown in if I could start right away. The apartment was three rooms, the no-phone nopool no-pets variety but it was clean, neat and furnished, so I accepted.

I called Aunt Mary and told her what I'd done and she wished me well and said if there was ever anything she could do to give her a call. She was all that was left of my family, Dad left a long time ago and Mom had died on me half-way through my senior year of high school. Aunt Mary had taken me in and helped me through the process, signing papers in my behalf. After the funeral, I had Mom's old car, 1800 dollars in my checking account and a few mementos. I'd given the rest to charity; there had been nothing worth the effort of salvage.

Pinning my hair back, I went to work washing dishes. Betty's husband Ben was the cook, a humorless old man with a permanent slump to his spine. When she closed, Betty gave me the keys to open up in the morning and a set for the apartment. I unloaded my car and lugged it all up the outside staircase, dropping it on the floor. After a shower I felt better and got out my camera and checked to see if was ready to go. It was, and I slept the night without my usual dreams.

My first month on the job went well, the patrons liked a pretty girl and a little sass with their morning coffee, I got some good tips and a lot of yearning looks from some of the younger ones. It was hot and dress was casual, so I wore short skirts and thin tops or shorts and sandals.

I explored the area looking for possible photo ops, finding a few good ones. I got a library card, found out who was the best mechanic, and changed my address on my driver's license. Not knowing when an opening would occur, I was on hold for the summer, saving money and enjoying myself.

One afternoon as we were about to close, a harriedlooking man dressed in a cheap suit walked in and asked for me. He had an Ichabod Crane face, all pinched and narrow looking, plus the limpest handshake I'd ever had from a man. Taking him to one of the back booths, I sat him down and said, "I'm Diedre McGuire, what can I do for you?"

"Uh, Miss McGuire, I'm Mr. Rawlins, I'm here to inform you of your status with the Sanger School."

"Ok, what is it?" I asked, smiling. This guy looked like they didn't let him out on his own very often and I was determined to be pleasant.

"It seems that your application for this school year has been temporarily set back," he said quietly.

"You ARE going to tell me why, right?" I asked, the anger and depression unmistakable in my voice.

"Yes, uh, yes, I am....there were to be two openings for the fall semester, one of which

was destined to be yours, however we've had another application, and our criteria determined the opening has to go to him."

"You're denying my application because I'm a GIRL?' I said.

"No, no, that's not part of the selection process.....I've seen some of your work, and professionally speaking I'm sure you're qualified to teach at least the first two units in our photography course, but the young man in question is more rounded, how would you say, um, more complete."

"In what way?" I asked, unbelieving that this creep was telling me this shit.

"He sculpts and paints as well as doing some remarkable work with his camera, and we at Sanger are duty-bound to turn out the best product we can."

"So how long a delay can I expect?" I asked.

"We definitely will reserve a spot for you for the spring semester, say right after Christmas?" he replied.

"Ok," I said, "I guess I can wait until then," thankful I had a job and a place to live.

Maybe I could add to the portfolio in the meantime. Standing up and tucking his hanky in his front pocket, he looked around to make sure he wasn't going to be overheard and said, "There is one more thing I'd like to discuss with you if I may."

"What's that?" I asked.

"The school is in need of a model for the art class, a live model as it were, someone of your physical description," he whispered. I knew what that meant, this pervert wanted me to take my clothes off and parade around the room while people sketched me nude.

I laughed and began to shake my head no, and he asked "May I speak frankly, Miss McGuire?"

"Please do," I giggled, this clown was getting funnier by the minute!

"Our model pool must be representative of the general population according to the guidelines set forth by the founder...we are in desperate need of someone with white skin, Miss McGuire, please say you'll accept the job," he said. Teasing him with no intention of accepting, I asked "How much?"

"Twenty-five dollars an hour for a three hour session twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays," he replied. 'Wow' I thought, being naked pays pretty good, and he had my full attention as he continued "I'm sure we could arrange a stipend for accommodations as well if you need a place to stay."

I pointed in the air and said "I live here, thanks anyway."

"Then you'll accept?" he asked, a very hopeful look on his face. I sat not speaking for a few moments, letting him stew. I'd never done it, but the cash involved could go a long way toward improving my lifestyle.

"Ok, " I said, thinking if I didn't like it I could always quit.

He almost danced a little jig he was so happy, the grin widening his narrow face to his earlobes. "Come to the admissions office tomorrow and there'll be someone to take you to the class," he said.

"What time?" I asked.

"Oh yes, class is from two until five, say one-thirty?"

"I'll be there," I said, smiling once again. It didn't take much to make this guy happy I thought, as I shook his hand and said goodbye.

He left and Betty said "Who was that?"

"Some guy from the school, my application has been delayed," I replied.

"Oh no," she said, frowning.

"That's ok, he offered me a job too," I smiled. We arranged for me to leave right after lunch on the days I'd be modeling, and I assured Betty that I'd continue to work for her and keep the apartment. That afternoon after work, I showered and looked at myself in the mirror, checking my body. I considered myself average, 5 feet 9, size 8 shoe, slender with some curves in the right places. I knew I wasn't cute or beautiful, and pretty was a word not usually used to describe me. My breasts still carried the stretch marks from my growth spurt in puberty. They'd gone from nipples to a B cup almost overnight, then hovered there on my chest, waiting for the rest of me to catch up. Tight and sore, they got in the way with everything I tried to do until I got used to their presence. I'd acquired hips, too, and I missed my skinny little butt.

My skin was ok, pale and likely to burn in the sun, a few freckles on my chest and face, nothing remarkable there. My hair was long and reddish gold, thick and naturally curly, I brushed it every day and it gleamed. My bush was sparse, you could see the lips of my slit through it. I shaved my legs and underarms infrequently, it didn't seem to grow very fast. All in all not a bad sight, but to me still average. I sighed, got dressed and drove around looking for something to photograph for the rest of the day.

Tuesday I arrived on time and was shown to the building where the class would be. Ushered into a small room next to the classroom, I was told to undress, put on my robe and wait for the instructor. It was hot and there wasn't much to take off, so I was ready in two minutes. A man in jeans and a tank top entered smiling and introduced himself as Mr. Benson, shaking my hand and welcoming me.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asked.

Shaking my head no, he nodded and said "It's really very simple... the students are not allowed to touch you or talk to you, I call for various poses as required and you hold them as best you can until they finish.... if you need a break or a stretch, tell me."

I said, "Ok," and he replied "Let's get started then, shall we?"

I followed him into the main room, a large open area with a platform in the center. A pedestal and a slanted board with a cushion were on the platform, with a halfdozen or so students standing around it, their easels nearby. He motioned for me to climb the platform steps, telling me to sit on the pedestal. I was nervous, but Mr. Benson took charge and said "Listen up people, this is Diedre, our new model... we're doing charcoal today, I want a separate page for each pose and go easy on the detail.... I'm looking for perspective, ok?"

Mumbles of assent were heard and he said, "Alright Diedre, put your feet on that little ledge right there and put your hands in your lap, keep your back straight and look out the window." I shrugged out of the robe and did as I was told as the students started to work. I heard the quiet sounds of charcoal being rubbed against paper and cleared my mind, being as still as I could. My nipples reacted to being uncovered and I flushed slightly, wondering how they would look on paper.

I changed poses several times, the hardest ones being unsupported by anything to lean on or hold to. No one talked much, and Mr. Benson walked around the room, looking at the results and critiquing each students work as it progressed. Later, Mr. Benson said "That's it for the day, thank you," and I picked up the robe and returned to my dressing room. I heard a knock as I was putting on my sandals and said, "Come in."

Mr. Benson walked in and handed me an envelope saying "Thank you." I looked inside and saw cash in various bills and said "You're welcome." I must have had a questioning look on my face because Mr. Benson said "We always pay at the end of each session, some girls only do it once and never come back," laughing softly.

"Oh, I'll be back, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be," I said, grinning.

"You did well, I'm looking forward to seeing you again," he replied and walked out, leaving me to finish dressing and let myself out.

I walked home, considering my future. The money was good, I had two jobs, the delay in entering the school didn't look so bad after all. It looked like the rest of the summer I could add to my bank account and my portfolio, gaining experience along the way. The summer classes were small and I got to know most of them by name as they talked to me after class, inviting me to various places for coffee or something stronger. I politely declined, telling them I was too busy. Betty took an interest in me, sharing a portion of her life and the local history in our talks. One day she said "You see that man over there in the green cap drinking his coffee, chatting with them other fellas?"

I nodded yes and she said "He's a pretty good catch, that one... has a big farm out on the west side, never been married, has buckets of money... girl could do worse." Thinking that somebody was going to find out anyway, it was time I trusted her with some personal information. I said "I ain't wired that way."

"Hmm," she replied, turning and wiping the counter.

Nothing more was ever said, so I relaxed and went about my business. I only worked mornings, posing took up two afternoons a week, so I had a lot of time on my hands. Aunt Mary sent the last of my things, 2 old steamer trunks full of stuff I didn't use often but was too important to throw away. The trunks also contained many memories, some wonderful and some painful.

I unpacked some of the photos and placed them around my rooms to remind me of the nice and good things I had shared with the people in them. There was Lisa, the first girl I kissed, and Brenda....what a girl! Bold, brassy and loud, she was the one who taught me how to kiss, and Noelle, the sweet little blonde. We shared many firsts, but our relationship was cut short by being found in her bed by her mother, not a good thing. Neither was getting caught by the gym teacher with Lisa's panties in my nose and my other hand in my shorts when I was supposed to be outside playing soccer.

I believe my dreams, the scary ones at least, are driven by those memories. I always woke up from the bad ones tangled in the bedclothes unable to move, sweating and terrified. I knew I was different from a young age, possibly 7 or 8, but I didn't know in what way. I liked boy things, I liked girl things, I thought I was normal or just like everyone else.

Getting to high school and being in the showers after gym changed all that. It taught me that I was attracted to females for one, why else would my little coo leak and itch when I saw them naked? It also enhanced my drawing, being able to burn an image in your mind for hours until you can use pen and ink to duplicate what you saw is a useful talent.

I wasn't interested in being a man or dressing like one, I liked being female once I got used to my tits, but I wanted something more and I didn't know what. I went to the library and read about voyeurism and lesbians, deciding about the age of 15 that I was both. No amount of threats or tears from my Mother could change my mind, nor did the counselor from the school.....she said I'd grow out of it. The name calling and ostracism from my classmates hurt though, I'd known some of them since we were toddlers. The few girls who were open about their sexual preference I avoided, mainly because I didn't think they wanted love or sex the same way I did.

Now I was away from all that, the only reminder my memories and dreams, and I was on the path to success. I got busy on my time off, driving around and sticking my nose everywhere. Betty told me the local Lover's Lane was an old quarry west of town a few miles, so I went there and took some pictures of kids either skinny-dipping or necking.

There were a few who came there often, and as I'd see them in town clerking at the hardware store or bagging groceries I'd smile my knowing smile, thinking I had pictures of that sweet innocent doing things her parents wouldn't approve of. There was never any question of blackmail, I took the pictures to capture private moments in other people's lives, unknown and unseen. I tanned there myself, there were lots of nooks and crannies among the rocks that were private and quiet.

Fall arrived and with it many more students, the classes got larger overnight, filling the room. I watched some of the other models work to get better, 2 of the guys were almost scary in their ability to hold a pose without moving. The girls were almost as good, and the differences in their bodies was remarkable.One was barely 5 feet tall, the other had to go 6 foot 4. I liked the tall one, Angie, she always smiled at me when I watched her work. Her bodybuilder poses were a work of art by themselves.

My miracle happened one day in October, Leah showed up with her easel and supplies to join the class. I was stricken!! You know the feeling your heart gets when the elevator drops from the 90th to the 5th floor without stopping?

That was mine that day, I had to concentrate on not moving an inch with each pose, I was fidgety and nervous and I didn't even know her name! Compact and very pretty with dark hair, her eyes made contact with mine several times, bringing a smile to her face as she worked. She wore short dress with sandals, her shoulder length hair clipped back. When the session was over I hurriedly dressed and went outside, hoping to catch her and introduce myself, but she was gone.

I went home and masturbated quickly, finding little relief for my feelings. I paced the apartment, unwilling to wait for the next session to see her again. I drove around the local student hangouts and didn't spot her, so I went back home and showered, falling into bed and enduring the night without much sleep. The next day I was preoccupied and gave the wrong order to 3 different people, Betty asking me "What's wrong, hon?" Concentrating on my work, I finished the day without further mistakes and sat down for coffee after we locked the door.

Betty sat with me as Ben cleaned the grill and said "You're not yourself today, anything wrong?" I sighed and told her "I'll be ok, I saw somebody yesterday that took me by surprise."

"Somebody from your past?" she asked.

"From my future, I hope," I smiled at her.

"Aaahhhh," she grinned, understanding.

That night I took a pill to help me sleep, managing a few hours of restlessness. I worked for Betty and didn't goof up, then ran upstairs to shower and get ready for my session. I put on a little makeup to hide my tired eyes and drove to the school, anxious and very nervous.

Once on the platform and in my first pose, I relaxed and did what I was being paid to do. I saw her again and she smiled at me as I changed poses, adjusting my drape to cover one breast. When the session ended I hesitated for a few seconds and we made eye contact. She mimed drinking coffee, pointing at herself and then to me with a grin on her face. I nodded yes and hurried to dress, waiting outside the classroom for her to appear. She came out of the door, setting her case at her feet and smiled at me. "Hi, I'm Leah, you wanna go for coffee or something?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied, "there's a nice place open all night out by the Interstate."

"I don't know my way around very well, why don't I follow you?" she asked.

I said "Ok," and walked to my car, unbelieving of my good fortune.

The diner was uncrowded and quiet, and I asked for two in smoking when the hostess came out. As the hostess was leading us to our booth, I hung back and watched her butt as she walked, the slight sway of her hips making my mouth water. There was nothing but her under the dress! We sat and I introduced myself as we ordered coffee.

The next few hours were happy and full ones as we talked and shared information. She was Leah Watson, daughter of Harold, as in Watson Industries Inc. of St. Louis. Well-off, she wanted to learn what she could about art with the idea of opening a gallery sometime in the future. 21, never married, she was the apple of Daddy's eye and it showed. Her car was new and foreign, a convertible no less, and the dress she wore was expensive.

The conversation turned personal about 7 o'clock over a meal, she said didn't want to go back to her apartment and cook. "So, you have a boyfriend?" she asked.

"Nope," I replied.

"What do you do for fun?" she asked.

"Take pictures, hang out," I said.

"I love your punaani," she said softly.

"My what?" I giggled.

"Your center, your essence, the thing that makes you female," she replied.

"Oh, that," I said, my voice low.

"Yes, that.... I looked at it the first day I saw you, you know." she stated.

"And?" I asked.

"And it doesn't look like you use it very much," she smiled.

True, it was small, almost hairless and the lips didn't hang out of it like some girls I knew, but it had been well-used for years.

Nevertheless I blushed and said, "Well, I do."

"By yourself?" she asked, a doubtful look on her face. I nodded and she said, "I would've thought a pretty girl like you could find all kinds of help in that department."

"I'm picky," I said, forking a mouthful of salad. She nodded and continued eating, the conversation on hold, my mind and hers churning with the possibilities.

Finished, the waitress took our plates and we poured another cup of coffee, sitting in silence as we measured each other. Finally she asked "Have you ever been with another woman?" My heart rate went up to 125 and I nodded yes, unable to trust my voice.

"Will you come with me?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

She paid our bill and as we walked to the parking lot, she took my hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

"Lets drop off your car and we'll ride in mine," she said. I agreed and got in, praying the damn thing would start. I led her back to my place and parked, running to open the door to her car. She grinned as I sat down and drove quickly down the street, putting her hand on my thigh when she reached fourth gear. She was aimed in the general direction of the river, where all the most expensive places were located and I wished that I'd worn something other than my normal cotton panties and bra. 'Too late now', I thought as we pulled into the driveway of a small house.

Parking in front of the garage, she got out and walked to the front door with me close behind. She keyed it and walked in, turning on the outside light. I looked around as she took my coat and I slipped off my shoes, curling my toes in the deep carpet. The leather couch was grey and looked comfortable. "Make your self at home, I'll be right back," she said as she walked into another room.

I needed to pee but it would have to wait. I glanced around the room, seeing a lot of family photos and a nice record collection. If her Father was paying for all this, he certainly wasn't a cheapskate.

She came back from wherever she'd gone and I did a double take, she wasn't wearing anything but panties, very small panties at that. Her breasts jiggled a little as she came to me and said "Are you comfortable enough, I said to make yourself at home," laughing.

"I need to pee," I said, unbuttoning my blouse.

She took my hand and led me to the bathroom, saying "I'll be on the couch."

I finished my business and took off the rest of my clothes except my panties and went back to the living room. She had opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, sitting there as demurely as you please, straight backed and legs together. I accepted the glass and took a sip, gazing at her body. Breasts, A cup plus a bit with dark nipples, aureoles full and wrinkled. Stomach flat and smooth, legs ditto, toenails painted a bright pink. 'Oh God, am I dreaming?' I thought. "Better?" she asked, drinking from her glass. "Yes, thank you," I replied, taking a sip from my own.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" she asked."Sometimes," I replied. I wanted her in the worst way, but my fears were raging in the back of my mind, wondering whether this was a ploy designed to get me to admit I was a lesbian and then broadcast it to the world. That would probably mean my modeling job was gone, AND the chance to study at the school. I waited for her to speak again, uncertain of her motives.

"I do," she said, putting her glass on the coffee table and scooting closer to me, rubbing my knees. Her hands slid up my thigh onto my ribcage and cradled the bottom of my breasts, the fingertips brushing my already firm nipples. She pinched them gently and said "So beautiful." My mind told me 'Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes' as I did the same, leaning forward in search of her mouth.

I kissed her like Brenda taught me, soft and warm with a little bit of tongue and she inhaled, "Ooh my Gooodd!" as she wriggled closer, pushing me down. Her hands were everywhere at once, stroking and smoothing, pinching and kneading, raising my blood pressure. I helped her get my underwear off and she buried her face in my crotch, kissing and mumbling, licking here and there, sucking me in occasionally.

My clit usually stays buried pretty deep inside the fat lips of my puss, I dig it out with my finger and rub it from underneath, but that night the little booger stood right up and yelled "Suck me!" when her tongue looked for it. I think I felt three knuckles as she sucked my clit and slipped two fingers inside, probing, massaging the walls. Her tongue was everywhere at once while her fingers probed deep, and as the fingers pushed up toward my pubic hair I came without warning, intense and frightening with its speed and power. "Aiii.... oooh... gaaaaa, Leah! Eeeeeeeeeaaah!" I cried, my stomach cramping into a huge knot as it hit.

"Mmmph... mmph.... mmph," I groaned as the contractions continued unabated, dimming my vision and leaving me breathless. I pushed out, believing I could feel her mouth on my cervix, thinking 'this must be what it feels like to give birth', rocking and moaning all the while. She held me close and never let me escape, licking and sucking my labia as my clit slipped back, my heels drumming on her back and shoulders.

A few aftershocks hit me as she continued to lick me, sucking my labia deep in her mouth and murmuring "Mmmmmmmmmmm." I relaxed and started to come down, figuring it was my turn, so I pulled her upright and pushed her back down on the couch, aiming for her nipples. The feel of a nipple hardening in my mouth is incredibly erotic and it was no different that night. They feel like warm grape-sized raisins and have a smell all their own. Kissing and licking my way down, I smelled her through her panties, sucking the wet cloth. Raising her hips, she moaned as I pulled her panties off, sucking them dry. She opened her legs and I moved between them, getting my first good look at her sex.

She put a pillow under her butt and I gazed at the folds and creases of her, licking here and there to taste her. Her clit hood filled a third of her slit, the whitish-pink knob sticking out a fraction of an inch. The brown edges of her inner lips hung down away from her hair, thick and fat with her excitement. Her center was bright pink with milky fluid everywhere, slippery and sweet. I dipped my tongue in it and licked upward, swallowing twice on the way. She moaned, "Oh yes, nani, more, please more." And I continued, sucking the lips and kissing her inner thighs, my thumb gently rubbing her clit. Two fingers went in easily and I probed, pulling up to find her spot.

Her clit grew, the tip with its tiny crease looking exactly like a penis. I sucked it, rolling it with my tongue and her scream startled me as she clamped down on my fingers like a vise. "Oh God! Oh God! Yes! Yes, yes, nani, there, aaaaaiiiiii!! Oh yes!" she cried, the contractions squeezing my knuckles every few seconds. I held her butt and sucked her clit until it disappeared, listening to her groan with delight at my efforts. The spasms slowed, then stopped and I removed my fingers, licking her labia to get the last of her tangy taste.

I moved to hold her and we kissed for a time, lost in the joy of sex and sweat and closeness. I was sucking on her nipples again when she took my hand and put it back between her legs, pushing two fingertips inside and rolling her hips upward.

"Can you.... again?" she asked.

"Mmm-Hmm," I murmured, adding another finger and pushing them deep.

"Aaaaaaahhhh, God I need it so bad!" she whimpered as my hand delved inside.

She reached down and straightened my little finger adding it to the other three, then grasped my wrist and pulled toward her body, grunting with the effort to keep her head up.

"Tuck in your thumb," she moaned, and I finally understood she wanted my hand inside her completely. She lifted her legs, holding them up behind her knees and said "Push."

With me applying a steady pressure, my hand slowly disappeared inside. As my knuckles passed the ring of muscles at the entrance she screamed again, the suction pulling me in to the wrist. I made a fist and rotated my hand, my knuckles bumping her cervix as I gently pumped it in and out. She came, the velvet glove of her vagina compressing my hand in waves as she moaned and cried "Oh gaaawwwd! YES! That's good, more, more, please more!"

I twisted my wrist and pulled out part way, stretching her wide and watching her clit throb, dripping on my arm. My other thumb stroked it a few times and she came yet again, moaning deep in her throat, a guttural sound that scared me a little. That one passed and I went deep, her womb brushing the back of my hand on each stroke as I pushed to the limit. All the way in, hold and slowly out repeated several times brought another one, by far the most powerful as she gripped my hand so it couldn't move.

Totally silent, her body vibrated with it, the toes of her feet curled back almost to the arch. My hand was sore, the knuckles cramped and confined as the waves squeezed and squeezed, slowing at last to relieve the pressure. She held my wrist and lowered her legs to the floor, gasping for air. The pillow beneath her ass was soaked as I folded my hand and gently pulled it out, starting her legs quivering. I rested my hand on her thigh calming her, and laid down beside her for a kiss.

Her head lolled and she was at the edge of consciousness, but she smiled and said "Wonderful!" as I nuzzled her neck. Her recovery took a half-hour, during which I explored other parts of her anatomy. I rolled her over and kissed her cheeks and the dimples just above, inhaling her clean scent. I wanted more, I couldn't get enough of this woman! I played with her feet, massaging, sucking a toe now and then, getting girlish giggles and "That tickles!" from her. Please God I prayed, don't let this end.

Drained of the sexual tension and immensely happy, I lay with her on the couch, caressing her breasts. Firm and high, they were warm to the touch, moving only slightly as I manipulated them with my hand. "You mind if I call you 'nani, my sweet?" she asked. Remembering that it was her pet name for my puss, I laughed and said "No, of course not." "Every couple needs something special of their very own, and I can call you that anywhere and no one but us will know.....would you like sharing that with me?" she asked. "Very much," I sighed, kissing her softly.

We took a shower, a long languid one, washing and rinsing each other, pausing now and then for a kiss or a hug. She liked closeness, her hand or fingers were constantly touching me, smoothing a nipple or cupping a butt cheek. I felt that she wanted the same things I did, tenderness and love, affection without limits, sex without rules. Time would prove me right.