Bob takes in a 12 year old waif and raises her to become a beautiful young woman
This story is a love story. Oh, there's plenty of sex but, in the end it's a love story.

I was sittin’ in the back by the pool, in the shade of my umbrella. It was hot lazy summer Saturday, and I was keeping cool with a Bud. Just sittin’ and sippin’.

I heard the squeal of the rusty hinges on my gate. I needed to oil them, they squalled when they opened.

A girl stuck her head it.

“Can I help you?” I called to her, “Come on in.”

A girl, somewhere around ten or twelve walked in, “Mr. have you seen my puppy?”

I hadn’t seen any dogs but I asked, “What does your puppy look like?”

She was walking toward me while she talked to me. She was only a few feet from my chair. She said, “He’s about this big, holding her hands about a foot apart, and he’s black and white.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him, how did you lose him?”

“He got through a hole in the fence.” She turned around and pointed at my fence like it was the guilty fence, then she turned back towards me and asked, “Will you help me look for him?”

I looked her over, a typical overweight American kid, probably too many McDonalds and Burger King Whoppers. She was only about 4’6” but I’d bet she weighed at least 125, maybe more. She was wearing a tee shirt but it didn’t cover her stomach, her belly was rotund stretching the elastic of her shorts and her shorts were too small, they pinched her chubby thighs and clung to her crotch. When she’d turned away from me I could see her back, her behind. She had large melon like cheeks and her shorts rode up her crack.

Her clothes were filthy and worn and, honestly so was she; her long brown hair was matted and scraggly. I wondered about her parents.

Maybe I would help her look then walk her home just to see them.

I said, “How about a Coke while I finish my beer then I’ll help.”

Her face lit up, she just beamed with an angelic smile; I thought she’d be cute if she lost twenty pounds and got cleaned up.

“I can have a Coke and you’ll help me?”

“You can have a Coke and I’ll help you look.”

I got a Coke and she sat in the chair across from me.

“You’ve got a really nice house,” she said.

It was nothing special, a suburban 3/2, attached two car garage with a pool, pretty standard stuff, really. I asked where she lived she pointed vaguely over shoulder and said, “A few blocks that way.”

I had a pretty good idea where she was pointing, the town changed character not far from where I lived. It got rough.

“Well, if we’re going to go dog hunting we ought to know each others names, I’m Bob Davidson, who are you?”

“I’m Jennifer Palmer but everyone calls me Jen, can I call you Bob?”

“Everybody else does, so can you.”

We finished our drinks and went dog hunting. We talked as we walked, I was surprised, Jen was a bright girl with a quick wit, a happy kid it seemed, maybe I’d misjudged her folks.

She said she was starting the seventh grade, Middle School, when school started at the end of summer. She was excited about it. Jen said she was a good student; mostly A’s some B’s but mostly A’s.

I asked a question I shouldn’t have asked, “Jen don’t they teach health and nutrition in school?”

“Bob, I know I’m fat. My Mom doesn’t cook. She goes and gets hamburgers and fries and that kind of stuff or orders a pizza.” She gets her boyfriends to pay if she can.”

I caught the plural, boyfriends, I asked, “Boyfriends.”

“Yeah, she’s got a bunch of them, there’s two at the house now. It gets kinda loud when all three of them get going.”

“What, loud music, shouting, that kinda noise.”

She looked at me like I was dumber than a box of rocks. “Loud fuckin’ Bob.”

“What would a young gal like you know about that?”

“Bob, you live in my house you know about fuckin’.”

I said, “Let’s go find a dog.”

Several blocks later I got a surprise, I never expected to find the mutt, but between two houses, just sniffin’ around was a little black and white dog. I pointed, “Is that him Jen?”

“Oh yes,” She called, “Beaux, come here, come.” The puppy saw her and wagging his tail came trotting to her. She picked him up, she didn’t have a leash.

We were still closer to my house than to hers. I suggested we go back, I’d find something she could use as a leash then I’d drive them home. Off we went.

When we got back we let ol’ Beaux roam the back yard. I got another beer and got her another Coke (Yes, it was diet Coke).

We talked, she was fascinated by my pool, she’d never been swimming. I told her she was welcome come over anytime that I was there to use the pool.

“I don’t have a swimming suit Bob.”

“Well maybe your mom could get you one,” I naively said.

“Bob she won’t spend money on me. She gets my clothes at Goodwill, her money goes for things she thinks are important; beer and dope.

“Ok, tell you what, I’ll buy one just so you can swim here. What size do you wear?”

“Bob I don’t know, mom buys stuff and I wear it even if it doesn’t fit.

I was getting a picture of Jen’s life, a miserable home existence.

I had a sudden crazy thought, me as Henry Higgins to Jen’s Eliza Doolittle.

And I took that first foolish step down that proverbial “slippery slope.”

“Well come inside, I’ll measure you. Do you want a single piece or a two piece suit?” I asked as we walked into the house.

“Two piece, please.”

“Wait here and I’ll get my tape measurer.” I’m a bachelor and have to take care of myself, I had a little sewing kit with a cloth tape, I got it.

I sat down on a kitchen chair and considered my problem; I could measure her over her clothes and come pretty close. She solved my dilemma; she pulled her tee shirt over her head. I thought, oh shit, what am I doing.

“Measure me Bob, measure my boobs.”

And boobs they were, augmented by fat but definitely boobs with dark pink aureoles and gumdrop sized brownish nipples, yes, they were definitely boobs.

I gingerly circled her with the tape. I said, “Hold this,” as I draped it across her tits, I brought it together in the back, 36 inches. I wrote it down.

I told her to put her shirt back on. Her tummy was easier, I just circled her waist, she was 35 inches. I wrote that down.

I sat back down. I started to measure her hips over her shorts. She dropped shorts and panties to her knees. Modesty didn’t seem to be a priority in the Palmer household.

I could see her all and everything. She was starting to get hair but it was sparse and wispy, the top of her slit was evident. I measured her hips. She was 37 inches. I wrote it down and said, “Get your pants on girl.” I smiled when I said it.

“Why, don’t you like to look at me Bob? Mom’s boyfriends do. One, a couple of years ago even stuck his finger in me, it hurt but he’s gone now.”

“Jen, you’re twelve years old and I’m twenty-six, I’m not supposed to look at you.”

“Bob I don’t care if you want to look, you’re nice.”

“Jen, I care, that’s not the thing for me to do.”

“Ok but if you ever want to you can.”

This was getting a little heavy for old Bob. I cut a length of clothesline rope and said, “Let’s get Beaux and I’ll take you two home, ok?”

She was awed when we entered the garage and saw my vehicles.

“Bob, you’re got a Corvette a real Corvette and a Harley Davidson, too, wow, I mean wow. Let’s go.”

She hadn’t been anxious to leave a couple of minutes ago but now she was going to ride in a Corvette. I opened the garage door with the automatic opener and fired up that big V-8. Jen scooted her butt around in the seat and said, “Let’s go.”

I pulled out into the street, girl, dog and Bob, off we went, I slid a CD in and we got some tunes.

“You gotta give me directions, ok?” I said.

She guided me to her house. It was worse than I’d expected and I hadn’t expected much. No grass in what passed for a lawn just broken glass and empty beer cans were strewn about. I saw how Beaux got out, the fence was rusted and broken down and one window was evidentially broken out, there was cardboard taped over it.

I walked Jen to the door and asked if I could come in, telling her that I wanted to be sure it was ok with her mom if she came over to swim.

I walked in and closed the door behind me. It was dark in the room but enough daylight filtered in that I could see. There were two people on a broken down sofa, a black male and a white female. In an overstuffed chair, leaking its filling in about a dozen places was another guy, white, filthy. I could see through to the kitchen. Every surface was covered with dirty dishes. The floor in the room I was in was strewn with pizza boxes, empty burger bags and discarded beer cans. And the smell, my God the smell, the pungent aroma of marijuana overlaid with stale beer, unwashed bodies and sex.

I said,” Mrs. Palmer, I’m Bob Davidson, I helped Jen find her puppy. She came to my house and saw my pool; I wanted to check with you if it was ok if she came over to swim.”

“So you got a pool, huh, fancy place you got?”

“Not really, pretty cookie cutter, it’s only about a mile over there.” I pointed.

Mrs. Palmer got off the couch; she was dressed in a filthy white terry cloth thing. She displayed the fact that she had no panties on when she got up, not erotic though, I felt the urge to puke.

She swayed toward me, obviously intoxicated.

“So she’s been to your house and now you want her back, to swim you say. Did you fuck her?”

“What, Mrs. Palmer, I helped her find her dog, nothing more.”

“You want to fuck her, that’s why you want her back, ain’t it.”

Jen was hiding behind me, her embarrassment was almost palatable.

Palmer’s vitriol continued. “Why a fancy man like you with your fancy house and all want her. She’s fat, she eats too much. You like little fat girls Mr. Fancy man, you take her, she’s yours. You can have her fat ass, one less mouth for me to feed, take her, I give her to you. But you don’t be changing her address, I get a check for that girl and I want my money.”

I wanted to attack her, physically pummel her, beat her senseless then I thought there’s a quandary for me, to beat one senseless one must have sense to begin with, ergo I could not do that, this miserable woman had no sense at all.

“I took Jen’s arm, she still had Beaux on a leash. “ Do you have any shoes?”

She nodded yes. I said get them and let’s go.

She ran to another room and came out with a tatty pair of sneakers.

Bob, girl and dog were back in the ‘Vette, heading for God knows where.

We got back to my house. I sat her down in a kitchen chair and said, “Here’s the deal. I don’t know how this is going to work out. We can always go to Children’s Services.
But I’ve heard nothing but horror stories about them so, at least for the time being they’re off the table. But I want you to understand I’m not taking you back to that house and that woman so, if we can’t make things work, Children’s Services will be the last resort, ok, I want you to understand that.”

Jen said, “Yes Bob.”

“And I’ve got some rules, ok?

First, if Beaux goes in the house you clean it up. So house break him if he isn’t.
Second, you bathe every day, you smell a little like that house, probably in your clothes.
Third, you’ll have chores, we’ll figure out what as we go along.
Forth, you’ll continue to pull good grades, if we hang out long enough I’ll send you to college.
Fifth, my office is off limits, every where else is ok but not my office, I’ll get you your own computer so you don’t need to use mine.
Sixth, ah hell there’ll probably be a bunch of sixes but I can’t think of them now.
You got any questions so far?”

“No Bob.”

“Oh, there’s another thing, Bob was ok when we were just acquaintances but with you living here I want you to call me Uncle Bob if anyone else is around. We’ll tell people you’re my niece. To keep it simple, we’ll say my sister was like your mom and that she died of and overdose so I took you in. Are you ok with that Jen?”

She smiled at me, a sly giggly smile, “Of course Uncle Bob.”

I had to laugh along with her.

“Ok, a couple of other things, you’ll have your own room, I’ll take you there, show it to you, and I’ll give you an allowance of $20.00 a week if your chores, the ones we haven’t decided on yet, your chores are done.

Oh I forgot one thing; you’ll eat what I fix, for now nothing else. I eat healthy and I want you to, too.”

“Jen, do you have any questions or anything you want to say?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one. When are you going to take me for a ride on that Harley?”

“If you’re a good girl I’ll take you next weekend. I think we’ll be too busy to do it tomorrow.”

“Way cool, Uncle Bob,” she grinned at me.

“Ok, Cutie, come on.”

I started toward the rest of the house, she was almost prancing, she said, “You called me Cutie.”

“You are cute now come on.”

I led to what had been, until that moment my guest room, thought, what the hell, I don’t have guests anyway and ushered her in, saying, “This is your room, cleaning it is your responsibility but it’s yours. You can decorate it any way you want, within reason.”

She looked at the big king sized bed and flopped on it on her back, exalting, “Mine? Can Beaux sleep with me?”

“Sure, why not, just be sure he’s potty trained.”

“Ok Jen, give me your clothes.”

She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen in place and scared senseless; I realized I’d said that wrong.

“No, Cutie, I want to wash them, they’re filthy and so are you, while I do your laundry take a shower and wash your hair, we’re going shopping as soon as your clothes are dry.”

I went to my bedroom and got a long tee shirt. I tossed it to her saying, “You can wear this until your clothes are dry. You can undress in the bathroom; just toss your clothes out.”

My house had 2 ½ baths. Two of the bedrooms were like master suites, bedroom and bath and a half bath for visitors. Jen had a master suite. I pointed to the door.

She opened the door and whooped, “I’ve got my own bathroom?”

“Yeah Jen, that one’s yours; you’ll need to keep it clean.”

Her washing had finished, it was in the dryer when she came out, I was in the living room catching up on the news, she looked scrubbed and fresh in my big old tee shirt but her hair was still a mess, clean now a clean mess.

“Jen in my bed room on my vanity is a brush, get it for me, I want to brush your hair.”

She found my room and came back with the brush. I sat up, my feet on the floor and asked her to sit in front of me so I could brush her hair. She sat down and leaned back.

I ran the brush through her hair or more accurately I tried to run the brush through her hair. It was tangled and matted. I did the best job I could and told her I was through. I laid the brush on the coffee table.

She jumped up on the sofa beside me and gave me a hug, “Thanks Uncle Bob, thanks for everything.” She gave me a little peck on the cheek.

I was a little embarrassed by the attention.

I said, “Yeah, well I want to get you an appointment with a stylist, your hair’s still a mess.”

“You mean you’re going to take me to a beauty shop?”

“Well Cutie, I was going to take you to the shop where I go, they’re unisex, do both guys and gals.”

“Ok, that’s cool.”

“Jen, I want to have a serious discussion with you. I told you some rules earlier, well they’re flexible, I don’t expect them to be ignored but there’s some flexibility and we’ll work that out over time, all of them are flexible except the one about my office, it is off limits. Now I want to tell you my inflexible rules, violation of these rules will require discipline. I imagine you’ve been hit, kicked and slapped by drunks and dopers. That won’t happen here but I will spank if I think it’s necessary.

These rules cannot, must not be broken.

First, no drug usage is permitted in this house, not hard drugs, not meth, not cocaine, and not even marijuana.
Second, you are not to drink outside the home. I may permit a beer, a glass of wine or even a wine cooler. It’s ok here. But no drinking outside the home, period.
And Third, I will not accept lying. I will not lie to you and you will not lie to me. If you ask me a question I will answer it. I require the same from you.

Three simple rules, do you understand them and agree to abide by, to follow them?”

She faced me, and a most serious voice said, “I understand them and agree to follow them.”

“Good cause I’ll spank over those rules and I mean on bare flesh with this hair brush, now go get your clothes out of the dryer and let’s go shopping.”

God she was like a kid in a candy store, she’d never been shopping for clothes before but that shopping gene that every American female has, latent as it might be was in her.

I believe in quality, we went through Macy’s, Burdines and finally Neiman Marcus, we ran the gamut. I thought I was done, then she dragged me into Victoria’s Secret and I found they did in fact carry plus sizes that would fit my new ward, I insisted she be fitted for and buy a couple brassieres. Finally, burdened with about forty pounds of clothes we hit the shoe stores, new sneakers and a couple of pairs of sandals, one casual the other a little dressier. Thank God we were done. I was tired, my feet hurt and my back was killing me. She was still bouncing with exuberance and excitement.

“Let’s go Cutie, I’m hungry.”

We loaded the car and I do mean loaded, a “Vette doesn’t have much room and I took her to one of my favorite restaurants.

I ordered for both of us. Arugula salads dressed with a Mandarin Orange vinaigrette dressing, grilled skinless chicken breasts served on a bed of brown rice and broccoli, dessert was fresh fruit and cheese. We did have a nice crisp Chardonnay to compliment the meal, the waiter poured for Jen without questioning.

As were driving home Jen asked, “Was that healthy food Uncle Bob?”

“Yeah Cutie, it was, did you like it.”

“It was great, that chicken was better than any I ever got from McDonalds.”

I thought, God I hope so, I’d just dropped a hundred on dinner, but it was worth it and more. Jen was elated.

When we got home I helped carry her trove to her room and went back to the living room to catch the market reports.

I’d just switched off the TV when Jen came prancing into the room, I was going to get a fashion show whether I wanted one or not.

Short set after short set was displayed. I enjoyed watching Jen enjoying herself more than the clothes, though her last one did draw my attention, black shorts and a black and white top with vertical stripes. It slimmed her appearance; it was just a little hot.

After the shorts, she modeled a couple of summer weight dresses they were long enough that her chubby thighs weren’t displayed, just a few inches above the knees, Jen had shapely calves, they looked good on her.

Next was the swim wear. It was the only thing that accentuated her chubbiness but that was ok, she liked it and I had high privacy fencing around the yard.

But when she strutted out attired only in Victoria’s Secret’s lingerie I had to stop the show.

“Cutie, old Bob can’t endure this, you’d excite him too much, he’d probably have a heart attack”

“You really think I’m cute?”

“I think you’re cute and absolutely adorable,” I told her.

“Ok then I’ll put my new panties away but only to save your life, I don’t want you to have a heart attack.”

I looked at my watch, it was nearly eleven.

“Get to bed we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

I switched off the lights and went to my room.

“I lay awake in bed recounting the day; I’d awakened a happy bachelor, pretty successful, my software company held some valuable patents, that’s why my office was off limits, my computer, fire walled, virus protected though it was by some of the most sophisticated software my programmers could write, could still be vulnerable. I knew I could hack it and if I could someone else could. You see that’s where we made our real money, designing programs to protect the unwary from, ah shit, Bob tell the truth, from me. Now I had a twelve year and a dog, ah Christ, what had I done?

I went to sleep, how I don’t know. I dreamt of chubby twelve year olds and black and white mutts.

I awoke early as is normal with me, dressed in my running attire and went out. When I got back I was carrying a bag of mutt chow, a double dish for food and water and a leash, God what was happening to me.

She was still asleep, I swatted her bottom and she responded,” Huh.”

“Up and attem Cutie, It’s time to rise and shine, take the dog out, feed and water him, get your shower and I’ll meet you in the kitchen in thirty minutes for breakfast.

I showered, pulled on some gym shorts and a tee shirt. Barefooted I went to the kitchen, our menu was egg white omelets filled with sautéed vegetables, honey dew melon balls and a small tomato juice. I also indulged my one of my culinary vices. I ground Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, full caffeine, no wimpy stuff and put it through my French press.

I’d just taken my first sip, savoring its rich flavor when Jen came in. She had on one of her new short outfits, she looked nice, she asked, “May I have a cup.”

I said, “You drink coffee?”

‘Of course, but I’m surprised you do,” she said shooting me a moue, then she added, “Cream and sugar, please.

I only had the stuff for visitors but, wincing from this abasement of the finest coffee in the world, I added a teaspoon of non-dairy lightener and a teaspoon of Splenda. I served her and we sipped.

I was holding the omelets and the toast in the oven; the melon balls and the TJ were in the fridge.

I served. Jen looked at her omelet and said, “Can I have some catsup for this?”

“Jen, I don’t use catsup but I’ve got some salsa, would you like to try it?”


I dropped a tablespoon of my home made salsa on her eggs, she smeared it around and took a bite, she smiled at me, “Uncle Bob, that’s good.”

We finished breakfast and I taught Jen how to load the dishwasher. I said, “Do you remember when I said we’d figure out your chores? Well, cleaning up after meals is now officially one of them, I cook and you clean, ok?”

“Sure Uncle Bob, can we go out to the pool now?

“Get your suit on and I’ll meet you out there.”

Jen was waiting when I came out. Her chubby body was kinda cute; she jumped in with a splash.

I usually swam nude, no one could see over my privacy fences but it wasn’t appropriate with Jen, I had on an old suit that dated to my college days, I joined her it the pool.

She didn’t know how to swim but she’d figured out how to dive, time after time she porpoised, her broad bottom covered by the narrow strip of cloth between her legs then widening to cover her big ass. I didn’t swim, I watched. Finally I asked, “Hey Cutie do you want to learn how to swim, I mean really swim?”

“Can you teach me Uncle Bob?”

“It’s really pretty simple Cutie, come here.”

She came to me,” I said the first stroke I want teach you it the crawl, It’s the fastest, the most powerful stroke and probably the easiest to learn, well except dog paddling.”

I asked her to just hold onto the wall. We weren’t going to work on anything but the kick. When I tell you to, take a big breath, create buoyancy and here’s how I want you to kick. It’s called the flutter kick and, watch my arms, I showed her how her legs should kick.

“Ok, let’s try it.” She held the wall, she kicked, and she sunk. She couldn’t keep her legs on the surface. She tried again, she sunk.

“Here, let me help you,” I said.

I put my hand on her stomach and raised her to the surface. “Ok, now kick.”

She kicked and she sunk.

“Jen, you gotta keep your butt down and your legs out straight behind you. Let’s try again.”

I raised her in the water, one hand on her belly and the other on her butt keeping it down; she kicked and kicked and kicked. She was getting it, she was proud of herself.

And here was ol’ Bob, one hand on the child’s belly and the other on her bottom; slippery slope, step two.

“You’ve got it Jen,” I said, I took my hand off her bottom and she didn’t sink. I took my hand off her belly and she didn’t sink. I stood aside and watched her kick.

When I’d had my hands on her, on her broad bottom, old One Eye wiggled in my trunks, I couldn’t get out of the pool, not yet, fortunately, he went back to sleep when my hands came off. He couldn’t be hungry for a chubby twelve year old, no way.

I patted her on the back and she stopped kicking.

“Ok you’ve got the kick and that’s what really supplies your power, I’ll teach you to stroke later, but for now, let’s practice your kicking only not against the wall, come here and I’ll show you what I mean.”

I had her raise her arms above her head like a diver would then lifted her. I held her at the surface, her hands out in front, her legs straight back and her butt down. “Now kick.”

She flutter kicked, she was making progress through the water, I was walking along with her, holding my hand under her on her tummy.

I said, “Ok see if you can make it all the way to the other side.”

I let my hand fall away, she motorboated across the water. She made it. What a smile, she was so happy, so pleased with herself. I heaped on the praise.

She practiced ‘til it was lunch time. I served at pool side, chicken salad sandwiches, no salt baked chips, I had a beer, another of my indulgences and Jen had a Diet Coke. The bread was multi-grain and I made the salad myself, grilled boneless skinless breasts, no fat mayo, chopped onion and celery, just a dash of salt, pepper and a dash or two of Tabasco Sauce.

It was Sunday, the markets were closed, I could just laze around and I did. I stayed out by the pool watching Jen.

She was having a ball, she’d mastered the crawl, well mastered might be a little strong, but she could splash along with the overhand stroke. And she still made like a porpoise and her butt still came out of the water and I looked and One Eye wiggled. I looked away.

About two I called her out of the pool and asked her to get dressed. I had some shopping to do.

She came out in the black shorts outfit I mentioned and white sandals. I thought, when we can get her hair done she’d be a pretty girl, chunky but cute.

We went to Comp USA. Usually I’d have had my techs build a computer but she didn’t need the sophisticated equipment I used, commercial was fine, we got a computer, mouse, keyboard and several video games (her choice) and headed home.

I set up in her room. Fortunately, I’d taken the package deal from my cable provider, TV, phone and internet so I had an IP for her. I worked on a dedicated T-2 line but no one else accessed it.

Then I fixed supper. Sunday was my splurge day, the only day of the week that I ate red meat. I grilled 4 ounce filets, trimmed of any fat, a brown rice pilaf and steamed zucchini. Our salad was mixed greens tossed lightly with balsamic vinaigrette sprinkled with chopped walnuts. The wine was Zinfandel and the company was delightful. I hadn’t seen such unbridled enthusiasm since me and a couple of other guys started experimenting with computers.

She was thrilled at learning to swim, the new clothes, well the new clothes, she’d never had any before and her computer. She could do basic stuff on the computer she’d been able to use one at school.

I told her that I’d be in my office most of the workday during the week and that I wasn’t to be disturbed unless it was an emergency.

For the next few days she swam, played with Beaux, watched some movies, just generally occupied herself. I worked. I’d come out to fix lunch, return and end the day around five. I was always on call if my staff needed me.

It was late Thursday night nearly midnight; Jen had gone to bed a couple of hours ago. I was checking to see how the Tokyo exchange was performing. Lounging in my recliner, suckin’ on a Bud when Jen came in; she was hunched over, holding her belly moving painfully. She climbed on my lap and said, “Uncle Bob, I hurt, my tummy hurts, she had tears in her eyes.

I held her and brushed her hair from her face, we’d had it styled and she looked good in it but she didn’t look good now. I asked where she hurt.

Jen pointed to her lower abdomen, “Right there Uncle Bob.”

My first fear was a ruptured appendix but she wasn’t pointing to exactly the right spot.

I pressed around her; she let me know where she hurt.

I asked, “Cutie when was the last time you went potty?”

She thought then said, “I haven’t been able to go since I’ve been here.”

She came on Saturday it was now Thursday almost Friday, she hadn’t moved her bowels in almost six days, no wonder she hurt.

I thought to myself, Oh Bob you dumb bastard, you did this to her. I’d radically changed her diet, almost no fats, lots of salads and vegetables, course multigrain bread, her digestive system was rebelling, it hadn’t adapted to the changed diet yet. Hell she was constipated,

I’d had a live-in girlfriend a couple of years before, she had bowel problems that she treated with enemas, her equipment, the stuff I’d bought for her was stowed in the back of my walk-in closet.

I said, “Come with me Cutie,” and took her to my bedroom.

“Why don’t you lay down in here, I’ll be right back.”

I got a rectal thermometer, KY Jelly and a rubber glove. I wanted to check her for fever, she didn’t feel hot but I wanted to be sure there wasn’t an infection. The glove was for a digital examination.

Back in my bedroom Jen was curled on my bed, holding her stomach and whimpering.

I rubbed her back saying, “It’s going to be ok, Uncle Bob can fix it.”

I’m going to take your panties down, don’t be afraid, this won’t hurt.

She was wearing a shorty pajama set, I lowered the bottoms, just the back until I could gain access, and slicked up the thermometer. There was a dab of lubricant on the tip, I spread her cheeks and slid the glass tube home. I held it in place with one hand and rubbed her tummy with the other. Her lower abdomen was firm, taut, unyielding not soft and pliable as it would usually be. I timed three minutes on the clock at my bedside, took the thermometer out and checked the reading. It was just a little high, 99.5, probably slightly elevated by the pain but there was no infection.

I said, “Well, here’s the good news, there doesn’t appear to be an infection. The bad news is that I’m gonna have to get that blockage out of you.”

“Jen, I’m going to have to take your panties off,” I said as I pulled her bottoms off, over her feet.

“Whatcha gonna do, Uncle Bob?”

“Well Cutie, first I’m going to check to be sure but if what I expect is there I’m gonna give you a couple of enemas.”

She’d never heard the word. In a timid voice she asked, “What’s an enema, does it hurt?”

“It washes you out and no, it doesn’t hurt, well you may feel some cramps but it sure won’t hurt like you’re hurtin’ now.”

I snapped on the rubber glove and got some of the gel.

“Jen, I gotta stick my finger in you.”

“Up my butt?”

“Yep, up your butt,” I answered as I parted her cheeks. I rubbed a bit of the lube on her then pushed a finger in. Jen gave a little gasp.

“Just relax Cutie,” I said as I probed her. I felt a solid mass filling her rectum. I pulled my finger out and said, “Yeah, it’s enema time. Don’t go anywhere; I’ll be back in a minute.

I shoved clothes aside, everything was still where she’d left it, I got the bag and a single packet of Castille soap and wheeled the IV stand to my bedside.

I filled the two quart bag with warm water, about 105 degrees and mixed in the soap.

Hanging the bag on the IV stand I rubbed Jen’s back. “Let me help you get in position, ok?”

I helped her to her left side and pulled her right knee up toward her chest, the classic Sims position, rubbed a little lubricant on her anus, greased the nozzle and twisted into place then started the flow.

I rubbed her tummy while the water flooded her bowels; I told her I was sorry, that this was my fault. I should have introduced the different foods gradually giving her system time to adapt.

She said, “It’s not your fault Uncle Bob, I know you’re trying to help me lose weight and eat healthier foods, besides, this isn’t so bad, the water feels kinda nice.”

As the bag emptied Jen filled, my rubbing hand felt the fullness of her abdomen. She started to softly moan.

“Are you cramping Jen?”

“Uh huh, I feel real full and I’m crampy.”

I rubbed lower pushing the water up her descending colon, counter clockwise circles, breaking up the fecal materiel blocking her rectum.

Finally the bag was empty; I took out the syringe but kept Jen lying on the bed, giving it a few minutes for the soap solution to do its work.

I kept rubbing, expanding the circles I was making. Jen was moaning, I couldn’t stop all the cramps. After about ten minutes I helped her to her feet and led her to my bath room.

She was bent in pain; I helped her sit and told her to call me when she was done.

It was ten or fifteen minutes before I heard the toilet flush. Jen called me.

She was still on the commode and she looked beat. I helped her up and led her back to the bed.

I’d refilled the bag with warm water for her rinse.

“Cutie we’ve gotta do it again. That last one had soap in it to wash you out, this one will only be warm water, you shouldn’t cramp.”

“Ok Uncle Bob,” she said as she started to lie on her side.

“Jen for this one I want you in a different position, get up on your hands and knees.” She did, I lay a pillow under her face and pushed her head down ‘til it was resting on it.

“You comfortable?” I asked.

“I’m ok Uncle Bob,” she replied.

I greased the nozzle and moved behind her. Her broad bottom spread before me in all of its glory, wide soft and inviting. I spread her cheeks, her little rosebud; pink and tight awaited my touch. I rubbed a little KY around her ring and pushed a finger in. I didn’t really need to push into her, I wanted to; it wasn’t another step down that slippery slope, now I was sliding on it. Jen gave a little moan when I penetrated her and wiggled her bottom. One Eye jumped, oh yeah, he jumped. I twisted the nozzle into her, held it in place with one hand and after giving myself a moment or two to calm myself, I started rubbing her tummy while the water filled her.

And I thought about me, Bob Davidson. I’m twenty-six, pretty good looking according to the women I’ve dated, and I’m rich, not comfortable, not well off, I’m pure and fucking rich, approaching a billion in net worth. I don’t flaunt it, my home is modest as I’ve explained, yes, my car’s a “Vette but hell I could drive a Bugatti Veyron if I wanted to, instead here I am staring at a chubby twelve year olds spread cheeks with an enema nozzle buried in her and wishing it was my cock, I’m more aroused than I can remember ever having been before; I’m probably the most eligible bachelor within two hundred miles, could have my choice of women, gorgeous women and I want Jen. I think, you fucking pervert, her mother was right, you do want to fuck her.

From behind her I can inspect all of her wares and treasures. Her pajama top is hanging from her and I can see her breasts, her pudgy belly, her slit, a young girl’s slit, the lips closed tight and her rosebud now filled with white plastic, white plastic where I wanted my cock . I leaned forward and inhaled, hoping for her scent. She was too closed, too clean. No aroma for me to enjoy. I rubbed her tummy.

The water was filling her, her big belly was swelling. I rubbed her, I loved her swollen feel. I pumped the nozzle up and back, twisted it, Jen moaned, I didn’t know if it was from the water, the stimulation or both. The bottle was nearly empty.

I pushed forward on her belly forcing the water deeper into her bowels, rinsing her, cleaning her guts. The bag hung empty, I pulled the nozzle out and helped her to the bath. I told her this might take longer to drain; I’d massaged the water further into her than before. I left her and rinsed and stowed the equipment..

I usually slept nude but out of consideration to Jen I put on old pair of gym shorts. I was just lounging on the bed when Jen came out about twenty minutes later.

“Ready for bed?” I asked.

“Uncle Bob, I’m empty, everything came out but my tummy’s still sore. Can I lie down with you so you can rub it?”

“Sure, get your panties on and jump up here,” I replied.

“I don’t want panties my bottom is sore from going, do I have to?”

“I guess that’s ok, come on,” I said; it wasn’t just a step any longer, I felt myself sliding down that slippery slope.

I turned down the sheet and she got under it. I pulled it back over us. Jen was lying on her side with her back to me. She snuggled against me and I rubbed, I rubbed her soft round tummy, circular strokes, easing the pain.

Jen said, “Rub lower Uncle Bob, that’s where it hurts.”

I massaged her lower abdomen, circling, kneading, circling, rubbing. She pushed my hand a little lower, saying, “Here Uncle Bob, down here, please.”

“Like this, Cutie,” I asked.

“Un huh, right there, that feels good.”

I was right at the base of her abdomen; the bulge of her belly was above my hand. I was touching the top of her sparse covering and Jen was softly cooing with pleasure.

Her hand was on mine. She guided it still lower to her mons. “Oh yes Uncle Bob, that’s where I want you to rub me.”

I could feel the top of her slit as I rubbed over her cleft. Jen trembled in my arms over my ministrations; she started slowly pumping her hips.

Her broad soft bottom was pressing against my groin, One Eye stirred. I tried to pull away; I didn’t want her to feel me. She moved back against me.

It finally dawned on me that this was a seduction and I wasn’t the one doing the seducing. Jen worked her bottom, her bare soft bottom against me, One Eye crawled out the leg hole and it was flesh against flesh.

Jen rolled her shoulders so she could look behind herself to talk to me.

She said, “You’re making me feel nice. I want to make you feel nice.”

She reached over her hip and took my penis in her hand, after giving it a couple of strokes she lifted her leg and fit it against her lips. Not in her, just against her then she closed her legs effectively trapping me. She pumped her bottom, masturbating me with her thighs and pushed my hand a little lower to her slit. I probed the top, opening her and sliding along. She was damp, she was lubricating. I found her small clitoris and rubbed it. She worked her hips faster, riding my finger on her clit while she masturbated me with her thighs.

Jen sped up and her breathing became ragged, panting breaths. Her body quivered, and shook as she climaxed. She was gripping me hard, friction met desire. I couldn’t hold back. I came violently shooting on her thighs and lips and I was embarrassed.

When her breathing became regular I wanted to talk to her, to apologize. I tried but she cut me off, “Uncle Bob that’s what I wanted you to do, you made me feel good, I wanted to make you feel good, did it feel good?”

“Cutie, it felt wonderful, now let me up so I can get a cloth and clean you up.”

“Uncle Bob, I don’t want to clean up, I want you on me, I’ll wash in the morning but for now let me feel you on me, please?”

What could I say? I still had my hand on her, back on her belly, rubbing. It was after 2:00. I said, “Let’s go to sleep.”

“Ok but you don’t have to rub my tummy anymore, you made it feel better. Rub me here, please.”

She took my hand up under her pajama top and rested it on her small breast. I rolled a nipple between my fingers. Jen sighed, “Good night, Uncle Bob.”

And that’s how we slept, my cock between her legs, my hand on her breast.

The seduction was complete and it had been successful, she had me.

Morning came as it always does, later than usual today, it was after eight and I’m an early riser but it had been a late night. My hand was still on Jen’s breast, I lifted it away, my cock, now flaccid was still wedged between her legs, I eased backwards, pulling it out. It was sticky, my cum not completely dried. I started to rise.

I regretted what I’d done and feared how it would change our relationship, debase it, or ruin it completely.

I started to rise. Jen rolled over on her back and looked at me. She sat up and said; “‘Morning Uncle Bob,” then she gave me a kiss, just a peck on the cheek and jumped out of bed. She headed for her room.

Nothing had happened, she acted as nothing had changed, like the night had never occurred, she was the same girl as yesterday, or not?

I just sat there in bed, befuddled. And Jen came bouncing back into the room. She’d dressed. She had on a tee shirt, shorts and her sneakers. She looked at me, gave me a smile and asked, “Aren’t you going running this morning?”

I run every morning, so I said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Cutie, you can’t keep up,” I said.

“I know that, I’m chubby, I’d probably fall on my face, exhausted in about one hundred feet. You’re going to walk with me for the first mile then you can run and I’ll walk back, let’s go.”

“Ok, just let me grab a shower.”

“Take your shower when you get back, you’ll just be all hot and sweaty, you’ll need another one. Save the water, just take it when you get back.”

She had a point, I got out of bed. I still had on my gym shorts. I got my running clothes and shoes and went to the bathroom, took care of my business, dressed and came out.

She led the way out the door. We walked at a brisk pace, arms swinging, making it count, burning calories. At a mile Jen’s legs were cramping and she was breathing hard but she hadn’t asked to slow down and she hadn’t quit. I was proud of her and told her so.

“See you at the house,” she smiled at me and started toward home at a much more leisurely pace. I ran for two more miles.

Jen was in the kitchen when I got back, she’d showered and was dressed in her swimming suit with a tee shirt on over it. She said, “Get your shower, after breakfast I’d like to swim for a while.”

I could smell the coffee, she’d ground it and was brewing a pot. I went to shower.

I had my swimming suit on when I came back with a short robe, barefooted. The coffee was poured and breakfast was laid out. Bran flakes with raisins; I buy regular bran flakes and add my own raisins rather eat those sugar coated things in raisin bran. She’d sliced bananas and strawberries for our fruit, there was skim milk and Splenda for the cereal; she added a little of each to her coffee.

We ate then went out to the pool. I asked her how she felt after the walk.

“My legs are a little sore, the muscles are tightening up but I’ll get used to it. Let’s swim some laps.”

We got in and swam hard driving strokes for Jen; I swam along side of her. She did ten laps and, winded, got out. She sat at pool side while I finished the fifty that I usually do.”

We went back in the house and dressed; she never said a word about last night.

And that’s how it went on for the next two years, I walked with her and I swam with her. She started to jog, a slow trot and then a little faster until she was doing two miles each morning. We set a route so we ended the two miles at our door. She’d go in, shower and have breakfast fixed when I came back, I ran a fast paced two additional miles. If it wasn’t too cold, we’d swim after breakfast.

There was one change in our relationship and it was significant. Every week or two Jen would come to my bed, maybe she needed it, maybe she knew I did, but she’d come to my bed and I’d let her take the lead.

We’d masturbate each other, hands and fingers, kisses and hugs until we both climaxed, she liked my cum on her and she’d make sure she got it, on her tummy or between her thighs like the first time.

For two years. I’d enrolled her in school claiming to be her guardian. She was an excellent student; still mostly A’s still the occasional B. She made friends and she brought them home to meet her Uncle Bob.

Her body had changed, exercise and diet had stripped away the fat. She was developing into a beautiful young woman. Her breasts were small, maybe even smaller then when she was chubby but they were high and proud. She had a small waist and her hips were beginning to flare, to take on a woman’s shape. She still had a bubble butt but it was firm and her thighs were slim and shapely, I was so proud of her.

It was summer, Jen was going to enter high school in the fall and she had a birthday on the horizon, her fourteenth; I planned a little party at pool side.

Ten of her friends were invited, boys and girls, splashing each other, me, everywhere. Beaux raced around the pool barking at the kid’s antics.

After everyone had left Jen said, “Thank you Uncle Bob, I love you,” and gave me a chaste kiss.

We went to shower, I said, “Get dressed in something nice. I’m taking you out for dinner, for our own private party.”

I took her to a steakhouse, yes, she was still a red meat eating carnivore but she didn’t indulge often. She hadn’t had a McDonalds for over two years.

We ordered, she specified the 6 ounce filet, ask that any fat be trimmed off and opted for a double order of the vegetable of the day in lieu of a potato. I was proud of her, she liked her new body and she took care of it, and I was as proud as any father could have been; but she wasn’t my daughter, was she?

I ordered pastries and champagne, Perrier-Jouet, for dessert and gave her my little birthday gift, gaily wrapped. She opened it and beamed at me, “Put it on me, please Uncle Bob.”

I fastened it around her neck; it was a twenty-four caret gold chain with a gold locket.

We got home and went to our rooms. I got into bed and was musing about Jen, she was growing up, she was pretty, she was smart and she had developed a vivacious personality, everyone liked her and I was proud and elated and prouder still.

And she came into my bedroom. She was wearing a short nightie and I could see that she had no panties on, her sleek brown pelt had filled out, she had a woman’s mons veneris and I could see that she trimmed it. She climbed into bed with me.

“Hey Cutie,” I said.

“Hey Bob,” she answered, then she kissed me; not the peck I usually got but a long, passionate kiss with dueling tongues wet and wonderful.

“Thank you for today, I love you Bob, and I have a little birthday gift for you.”

She brushed the sheet aside and took me in her hand, oh, it felt good and One Eye answered the call, stiffening.

And then she took me in her mouth, between her lips and she went down on me. I nearly exploded but she sensed it, she took her mouth off me and licked along my shaft, tickling and teasing One Eye’s one eye. I was still on the verge. She took me back between her lips, letting me slide in to the back of her throat then she bobbed on me, the sensations were exquisite, I swelled in her mouth, between her lips. I screamed, “I’m gonna cum, Cutie, I’m gonna cum and I came and she bobbed harder and faster and she swallowed and swallowed, I arched my hips gushing cum into her and she swallowed. She stayed on me, sucking me dry while I grew soft.

She looked up at me with a grin that would have been the envy of the Cheshire Cat and said, “No more on me, now it goes in me,” then she rolled on her back and said, “Your turn.”

And I was on her, I kissed her, tasting me on her lips, I didn’t care; then I fell to her breasts, toying with one nipple while I sucked the other, alternating between the two, pulling and twisting, sucking and nibbling, I lavished her tits with my attention. Jen was breathing heavily when I slid down to her tummy, kissing and licking my way down then over her mound, I nibbled on her hair and then to her treasure.

My tongue snaked along her vulva, I’d stop to suck on her lips, her labia then I’d lick some more. I found her clit, it was swollen, waiting, waiting for my lips, I covered her with my mouth, my tongue teasing her little gem. Jen was shaking, moaning softly, trembling under my touch, I sucked her, I pulled her into my mouth, teasing her, enflaming her. She bucked her hips and exploded , arching to my face, her orgasm flowed over her, out of her washing my face with her juices, she screamed, “Oh God Bob, oh God Bob, oh God Bob.”

I covered her vagina with my mouth, drinking in her sweet nectar, licking and lapping, as she poured out and I took in, I licked her until she begged me to stop, after her climax the sensation was too intense. I climbed her body and I kissed her.

“My God Bob, that was intense, wonderful, fantastic but intense. That’s how we’ll do it now.”

“Why now Cutie, why the change?”

“Bob, I’m older now, I’m a high school girl and I was ready for more. I’ve wanted you, wanted to taste you for a long time but I was a little girl. Now I’m ready for you.”

We slept together that night.

And two more years passed. Not much really changed, our routine continued, run, exercise, swim, healthy diet. Much the same although we did expand our evening entertainment; we visited museums, attended plays, were season ticket holders for the symphony, expanding her appreciation of the finer things in life. Mine, too, the truth be told and we reveled in each other’s company. There were two changes; oral became a major part of our exploration of each other’s bodies and I was Bob, not Uncle Bob anymore.

My Cutie was turning “Sweet Sixteen” in just a few weeks and I wanted it to be special. I cleared my calendar for the week of the event and made the plans.

We’d fly to Rangoria, New Zealand; take a puddle jumper then a motor boat to get there, Motu Teta, a nine acre private island on a Tahitian atoll. We’d have our own private chef, the guest house was stocked with wine and other liquors, everything was available except champagne. I booked the travel arrangements and shipped two cases of Dom Perignon.

Then told Jen I was taking her away for her birthday, I didn’t tell her where. I only told her to pack light and casual. It was just for the two of us. I wasn’t going to share her.

We arrived at midday and got settled in. It was spectacular, the main house where we’d be staying and a guest house. There were accommodations for ten but we weren’t sharing, just the two of us were invited, my invitation.

We were tired from the travel but still we wanted to stretch our legs. I spoke to the chef, asked for fish for dinner, his choice so long as it wasn’t fried, which drew a haughty look and a no sir, and we changed to swimming suits.

We walked along the beach, oohing and aahing at the tropical beauty before our eyes then we began to jog.

When we returned to the villa we showered and dressed for dinner. We weren’t disappointed. The food was scrumptious, we complimented the chef and took a chilled bottle of Dom to the main bedroom, our room. We sipped and laughed and talked ‘til the wine was finished, stripped, fell into bed in each other’s arms and, well and slept, slept the sleep of the dead. We were beat.

After a breakfast of tropical fruits and tea we skipped our run and went snorkeling in the lagoon. It was unbelievable; a kaleidoscope of colors and fish, large and small twisted and turned under us. The waters teemed with sea life, fish, crabs and spiny lobster and we watched for several hours then, leaving snorkels, fins and bathing suits on the beach we frolicked in the water. We finished our morning by swimming half a mile to make up for the skipped run.

Then a light lunch followed by a ride around the lagoon in an outrigger canoe. A little relaxation as we took in the sights, our oarsman and guide was a young Polynesian man, already sporting the tattoos typical of Tahitians, he asked if we wanted to fish, he had two poles in the bottom of the craft but we decided we’d get our fish from the chef.

Dinner was again a delight, and again, seafood, the entrée being local lobster with crepes for dessert. And another bottle of the Dom and then another. We were a little giggly when we got to the bedroom, we undressed one another, then ate each other up (both figuratively and literally). Finally, exhausted we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

We awoke to a beautiful Wednesday morning and it was the big day, Jen’s sixteenth. I spoke to the chef, explained the occasion and told him what I’d like served; as an appetizer I wanted escargots and an entrée of cuisses de grenouille, I left the accompanying dishes the dessert and wine at his discretion.

I also asked him if he could fix us box lunches to take with us. “Of course, sir.” he replied.

We went for a run on the beach came back, showered, put on bathing suits and had breakfast.

The chef brought out our lunches, cheese, fruit and crusty baguettes. He added two bottles of a chilled white wine. I carried the lunches, Jen toted the wine cooler and a little beach bag and off to the sandy shore we went. We walked along the shore ’til we found a shady nook, put down our things, stripped and dove in. We splashed we swam played, whiling the time away, enjoying our solitude. There might have been no one else on the planet; the only sounds were the birds and their songs.

We had our lunch, cheese and bread and fruit and wine. I was ready to do something but Jen wanted to laze. When I asked what she was in a mind for she said, “Sun on my white skin and a book.”

She proceeded to pull a beach towel, a novel, sun glasses and a bottle of tanning lotion from her little bag, how she got it all in I have no idea, she walked toward the water into the sun, spread the towel, lay down and said, “Oil my up.” She threw the bottle of lotion to me and flopped down on her back. I smeared lotion all over her front from her shoulders to her toes, paying special attention to her pert breasts, wouldn’t want to scorch those puppies, now would we? Then she rolled on her tummy. I slathered her with the sun screen, kneading it in way longer than necessary on her bottom, oh how I liked her sweet cheeks. I gave them a pat and went back to the shade to sip wine and watch her bake. She put on her sun glasses and picked up her novel.

I watched for about an hour then called to her, “Cutie, you better turn over, I want you baked not grilled.” She scowled at me but rolled over on her back.

I watched her, her beautifully sculptured body, tanning; she was a Sun Goddess worshiping Sol.

A little later, adequately toasted she joined me in the shade and lay down with her head in my lap.

She stared up at me silently, just gazing at me. I watched her watching me. Finally she spoke.

“I love you Bob Davidson,” she whispered.

“And I love you Jennifer Palmer, my Cutie.”

Too soon the sun began to set. We picked up our things, slipped back into swim wear and went to dress for dinner.

We showered then dressed in the fanciest clothes we’d brought, for me that was a pair of khaki sorts and sandals, at least my shirt had a collar, a pull over but it had a collar. Jen had on a floral print summer dress and white sandals and, thus attired we went to the dining room to partake in our repast.

I wanted Jen’s sweet sixteen dinner to be memorable, I didn’t know how she’d like it, she’d never tried escargot and I wasn’t even going to tell her that cuisses de grenouille were frog’s legs. I’d let the chef tell her; in French.

Seated, we were served a salad course, chilled white asparagus spears with a dressing I couldn’t identify but they were good. The escargot appetizer and the first bottle of wine, Chef had chosen an Alsatian white, Pinot Gris "Reserve Personnelle," it was cold and crisp, a nice accompaniment to the garlicky snails. I waited for her question but didn’t get one instead she said, “There are delicious, why aren’t you eating?” I realized I’d just been sitting, watching her eat. I took one and savored the buttery taste. Then the entrée, chef served the cuisses de grenouille, and I did let him tell her what it was; in French; he’d chosen grilled baby vegetables and they were perfect grill marked and firm, I made a mental note to add them to my own repertoire. And, at last, dessert, a plate of mixed petit fours with a bottle of Chateau d'Yquem, a Sauvignon Blanc dessert wine, sweet and heady.

After the table was cleared, chef brought a bottle of the Dom, and as we sipped I sang, in my off key baritone, Happy Birthday. Jen had tears in her eyes when I finished, “I didn’t think my voice was that bad,” I kidded, “Why the tears.”

“Oh Bob, I’m just so happy, so very, very happy.”

My eyes were a bit glassy when I answered, “So am I Cutie, so am I.”

We took another bottle of champagne back to our room; it was still in the bucket the next morning.

We ripped at each others clothes want to touch flesh, hot desirable wanting flesh, she surprised me she flopped on her back laughing, “It’s my birthday, you do me first, do me first.”

This was a reversal, she usually started but, what the hell, I wasn’t going to quibble, I dove in and gave it my all, after all it was her birthday.

I licked, sucked, tickled and teased; I lapped and I tasted, tasted her sweet nectar as she lubricated, nursed on her clit until she quivered, teased it with my tongue until she trembled and then she shook, oh how she shook. She was panting and I felt her taut belly ripple, I felt her uterus contracting and then her vagina spasming. Her head was thrashing, her hair flying and her hips were pumping and she screamed, she gushed and she screamed and she gushed and I drank from her holy chalice and she flowed oh how she flowed, from her body to my mouth the sweetest wine I’d ever tasted because it was hers, my loves.

As she came down from her high I gazed at her and she was beautiful, her hair was wild, her tanned skin was flushed; she held out her arms and I went to them and she hugged me and she kissed me and whispered, “Bob, I want you in me tonight.”

I started to roll between her legs but she stopped me and rolled on her tummy, “This way Bob,” and from under the pillow she handed me a small tube of KY Jelly.

I looked at her questioningly. She laughed; she thought my expression was priceless.

Then she said, “Old One Eye doesn’t explore that uncharted territory until our wedding night.”

“Our wedding night?” I asked dumbly.

“Our wedding night,” she positively averred.

This was a little new to me, I loved Jen but I knew I was too old to think about her as a wife, she was sixteen and I was now thirty.

“And just when will that be,” I asked.

“The day after I graduate from college we’ll get married, just a small ceremony and then you’ll sweep me away on the honeymoon of my dreams.”

I just stared at her dumbfounded, Jen was offering her bottom and I sat gaping like the village idiot.

“Bob, twelve to twenty-six, like when we met, an eon an epoch, even now sixteen to thirty, ages, historical time periods but at twenty-two and thirty-six it’s a hot young chick and a handsome mature man. People will think I’m a gold digger and that you’re a cradle robber and I won’t care cause you’ll be mine, all mine just the way I planned it.

I remembered that long ago night, the night when I thought, she has me. She did, I was unofficially engaged.

Jen was pulling a pillow under her head, she rose on her knees, wiggled her bottom lewdly at me and said, “Now get me ready, I want you in me, I want your cum in me. I want oodles and oodles, scads and scads, quarts and gallon, you’ve got eight years to fill me up ‘til I gurgle, now let’s get started.”

“How the hell do you turn down an invitation like that?” I asked. She laughed at me.

I lubricated her, I lubricated me, I gave each cheek a kiss and a pat, I positioned old One Eye at her portal, said, “Here Comes,” and popped through her sphincter.

She gasped at the intrusion and moaned at the pain. I held still until she’d steadied. Then pushed in; I took it slow, for her and for me, I wanted to feel the tightness of her anus as it pulsed tighter, looser, tighter, I wanted to enjoy the slick sensation of her inner flesh as I pressed into her heretofore unplumbed depths, it was the first time her body had been invaded and the first time I’d been in the woman who would be my wife and I wanted it to be memorable, notable for us both.

The sensation was like gliding through liquid velvet, warm and soft. Jen’s face was buried in her pillow, she was mewling softly and then I was all the way in, the journey had been fantastic but now I pulled back, pulling nearly out then back retracing that heavenly path then out then back, slow long strokes filling her then emptying her then filling her, savoring the moment, savoring the musky redolence coming from her. I wanted I it to last forever.

Jen spoke interrupting my thoughts, her mewling had stopped and she was backing to me, meeting my strokes. Her breathing had changed, long breaths, raspy breaths, “Fuck me harder Bob, please fuck me harder,” as she thrust back against me. And I complied, oh how I complied.

My gentle strokes became powerful thrusts, forcing her forward with their vigor. My balls slapped against her lips, I grunted with each thrust, she grunted as she accepted it. I gripped her hips and I rode her, rode her hard, faster and deeper with each stroke, stretching her, opening her wide, my hips were pounding against her bubble butt and Jen began to tremble, she arched her back and wailed out as she climaxed, I felt her ejaculate wash my balls then I came, I saw stars, I was in the heavens and I saw stars, I thought my life had flowed from me into her as I gushed, pulse after pulse of my hot cream filled her, I slowed she was squeezing me, milking me until I was drained then she collapsed to the bed, I rode her down, still in her but softening, I’d stopped pumping her and I was soft, still in her but soft, caressing her and kissing the back of her neck. Finally I rolled off and lay beside her.

She looked in my eyes, a sweet smile on her face, I was waiting to hear her loving words and she said, “Well I guess I got my first deposit, huh.”

I replied in kind with a little chuckle, “Yeah I guess you did but there’s plenty more where that came from.”

She answered, “We’ll see, we’ll see.”

I held her and we slept.

We awoke together. I started to get up and dress for our run.

“Today, let’s skip it, ok, I want something else.”

I lay back down with her. She swept the sheet off, opened her thighs and said, “Taste me Bob, please taste me.”

I licked and sucked her ‘til she climaxed. She pulled me up beside her and said, “Boy you know how to get a girl’s morning off to a great start.” Then she rolled on her side, her back to me and said, “Fill me up, please fill me.”

She arched her back and wiggled her bottom; she looked for all the world like a cat in heat.

I spread her cheeks and felt her, she was slick with the lube and my cum from last night, I slid into her and she pressed back to me. She moaned as I entered her but kept backing against me, forcing me deeper then she stopped, We lay still with me buried in her then she started working her muscles, her anus contracting and expanding contracting and expanding. I put my hand on her hip, she took it and raised it to her breast then she whispered, “Let me do it for you, let me do it my way.”

I massaged her breasts while she milked me, and it was working, God was it working, maybe the sexiest thing we’d ever done. She doing all the work, me enjoying, she squeezed me. She felt me swell in her and she reached back, pressing on my ass, holding me against her and she squeezed me. And I came, I poured into her and she squeezed me, she squeezed to make me cum, she squeezed while I came, she squeezed me ‘til she’d milked me then she gave me one final squeeze and sighed, “Oh I liked that Bob, I liked that. Bob, have I told you this morning that I love you, I do you know?”

There’s something perversely erotic about laying in bed on a tropical South Seas island, the sea breezes rustling the curtains drying the sweat from a romantic coupling, professions of mutual love being whispered with your cock up your sixteen year old lovers ass.

“Cutie, I know and I love you, too, I love you more than words can say.”

She swatted my bottom, said, “Good,” jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, saying over her shoulder, “Take a shower with me, you can scrub my back.”

This was new, we’d never bathes together. I followed her in. She was on the commode urinating. I listened to her tinkle, her legs were spread and I could see her golden flow, she caught me staring and, embarrassed I turned my head away.

She called, “Bob please come here, please, don’t be embarrassed, come here.”

She took my hands, one in each of hers, she was still flowing and she looked into my eyes, “I told you a long time ago you could look at me, if you wanted you could look at me do you remember.”

I remembered, it was when I was measuring her for her first swimming suit and she’d pulled her shorts down so I could measure her hips. I whispered, “I remember.”

“Then look at me, please, just look at me.”

And I watched as she emptied her bladder.

She flushed, leapt up and turned on the shower, got under it and urged me to come in, her back was waiting.

She got her back washed and a whole lot more, I explored her every nook and cranny (save one) then she washed me.

We toweled off and got some clothes on then went to breakfast. Chef had fixed eggs Benedict and we splurged. A pitcher of Mimosas, cold and fruity awaited and we emptied it then we sipped coffee. I asked Jen what she’d like to do she said, “Spend the day with you, let’s just walk around the island, all the way around, we’ll be back here for lunch.”

So we walked. The island is only nine acres, we’d have been back before lunch except, half way around she stopped, stripped and ran laughing into the lagoon. I kicked off my shorts and followed. We played in the water for half an hour then sat on the beach. She lay her head on my lap then turned her head and took me in her mouth, fellating me to climax then rolled onto her back and spread her legs. I took her hungrily, having my own private island feast. She came; we went, on around the island to our room. We showered again, washing off the accumulated sand. We dressed in swim wear and had lunch.

She said, “Now I want to go fishing, I’ve never fished and I want to try.”

So, we fished, there was tackle available and the caretaker fixed us up, light spinning rods since we were only going to fish from the beach in the lagoon and some kind of cut bait; I think it was squid and off we went. We were dressed in swimming attire, we chose our place, Jen shed her top saying, “I might as well catch some rays while I catch some fish.”

I baited our hooks and we cast our lines, mine flew smoothly, I’d fished a lot when I was young, my Pop was an avid fisherman, Jen’s bait nearly slapped her on the foot, I was only glad we were using spinning equipment if been using a bait caster her reel would have looked like an osprey’s nest, as it was, the backlash was easy to work out. I lay my rod down and demonstrated technique. Jen’s a quick study about most everything and she’s well coordinated, she caught on pretty quickly about how to hold the line on one finger on the back cast then flick it forward to the proper release point and let it fly. Oh she flung it toward the clouds several times or released a little late a couple more, it didn’t always go exactly straight every time but at least she hit water instead of sand.

She glanced over, I’d paid no attention to my rod while I was instructing in the fine art of casting, she screamed, pointing, “Bob, Bob.” She was jumping up and down. I looked where she was pointing; my rod was streaking across the beach ocean bound. It was already in the water; I dove in and caught it. Fortunately the drag was lightly set, the line didn’t snap when I set the hook. I waded back to shore and fought the fish. I beached a nice snapper maybe four pounds, I unhooked him and released him back to the lagoon.

Jen was watching me when a fish picked her bait she looked at me like “What now coach?” I yelled pull, she pulled and, Luck o’ the Irish (I don’t think Palmer is Irish but) she hooked it. I instructed, “Now you reel, reel it in.” Out of the water came a fish, a sailors choice or grunt, I don’t know what the call them in the South Pacific but it was a fish, about a foot long and colorful, I unhooked it for her and asked it she wanted to keep it, have it mounted, her very first fish on the very first bite, she wanted to let it go. I did.

I made her rebait her own hook, she wasn’t squeamish, it was no problem. We fished for several hours, two or three, as time got away. She was having fun and catching fish, so was I. I took the fish off for her; I didn’t want her to get finned. She was bouncing around whoopin’ and hollerin’ like an excited teenager then I mused, hell she is an excited teenager, sometimes I forgot.

After we’d robbed the lagoon of all sea life, not, we swam a little, traded oral a little and went back to change.

I’d asked the chef to fix something with shrimp and some pasta. It had gotten me a raised eyebrow and a harrumph, Italian, but replied, of course sir. I read his mind, I cook French or I cook Polynesian but I got yes sir. I smiled; I knew it would be superb.

I think dinner was his little joke on me, nothing French nor anything of the South Pacific.
The salad was Asian with a ginger dressing; I asked for the recipe he, of course demurred. The appetizer was a tasty little tart of Washington State cherries and the entrée was gamberetti fritti diavolo, on a bed of angel hair pasta, mated with some zucchini lightly sautéed in olive oil. The wine was Chilean, “Montelig” from the winery Vina von Siebenthal a ruby red wine, the 2002 vintage might have been just a little young, my palate said serve around 2012 or even later, but still a superb wine. Our dessert was an Austrian Sachertorte, the dessert was served with two ounces of a 1954 Madeira.
When we’d finished the Chef appeared at the table asking “Was it satisfactory, sir?” The bastard had a glint in his eye, there wasn’t a touch of the French and the closest we came to Polynesia were those Washington State cherries and the wine from Chile both did, at least border on the Pacific.
“My sincerest compliments to the chef, Chef, I know this meal was not one of your specialties, and yet it was fantastic, a meal I’ll never forget.” He beamed under my compliments but they were sincere.

We took a leisurely stroll to let the meal settle then went back to our room, Jen used the bathroom first then it was my turn, I peed, brushed, flossed and was ready for bed, I was worn out I thought, foolish me, I stepped out of the bath and saw and heard.
Jen was on the bed, a pillow under her hips, her knees pulled up, exposing herself, the KY Jelly lay beside her and she asked, “Does One Eye want to go exploring?” Maybe I was tired, One Eye wasn’t, he stood proud, saluted and got down to business.
God it was an entirely different perspective, when I slid into her I saw her wince, there was still some pain, when I was completely in I watched her smile and when I stroked her we shared the feelings, the sensations. I slowly stroked her and I could reach more, she was available, I massaged and kneaded her breasts, twisting and tugging at her nipples and as we got more intense I could excite her clitoris, I fingered her until she was swollen, engorged, sensitive and tender then I took her between forefinger and thumb and I jacked her off, masturbated her like what she had was a little cock. Jen was breathing hard, climax approaching, me too, I picked up my speed and my ferocity, it was fantastic, mind blowing, Jen’s eyes got big, round, her ass wriggled under me her tummy rippled and I swelled, One Eye was ready to spit, she came in a rush and a gush, she wailed, her eyes were clamped shut, her concentration absolute, the juice from her vagina coursed over me, wetting me, soaking me and I ground out my climax, oooh, oooh, oooh with each pulse. When we’d both settled, I was still in her and we were staring at one another, she gave me that little squeeze, yeah that squeeze, and said, “the Sachertorte was great but this, now this was dessert, wow was it dessert.”
We were leaving in three days and neither of us was looking forward to it, oh we had fun at home but how do you top your own private South Sea island? But we had to move forward, we had things to accomplish and we still had three days. Three days that damned near killed old Bob, even One Eye tried to hide when he saw her coming. She was insatiable, she hadn’t exaggerated when she said oodles and scads and quarts and gallons would fill her, I hadn’t understood she intended it to happen before we got off the island.
I didn’t realize there was such a thing as anal nymphomania, perhaps I’d discovered a new area of study for the shrinks but I didn’t know any other way to say it. My cock was in her, up her velvet chute four, five, six times a day. I thought her tummy was swelling but we got our exercise so I knew she wasn’t gaining weight because we were sedentary and I knew she wasn’t pregnant unless osmosis could move sperm from her bowels to her fallopian tubes, so all I could think of was that she was cum bloated, filled up. She laughed at me when I suggested it then she took me to bed. And she wanted as good as she gave, I thought my tongue was going to fall off. And I loved every nano-second of it.
Yes, she had taken me, I was hers, a thirty year old billionaire, yeah, I’d topped a billion, and a sixteen year old nymph, ah she’s no nymph, she’s success driven, just look at the effort, the pain she had to endure to mold her sculptured body, the effort to raise her GPA above 4.0 by taking advanced credit classes and, to seduce me though, I confess, I wasn’t all that hard, a willing victim? Yes, I’d loved her even when she was a dirty chubby waif, after all she was Eliza to my Henry, we’d just taken it further, perhaps to where ‘enry and Eliza wanted it to go? We’ll never know, that was fiction, Jen and I were life.
With regret we left our island and returned to the real world.
When we got back I wanted to sit down with Jen and discuss her future. I hadn’t given her a birthday gift. I handed her a plain manila envelope saying, Happy Birthday.”

She looked at me strangely then opened the envelope. It contained a sheaf of legal documents, I explained what it was.

“Cutie, I want to be sure you’re taken care of, if you ever decide to leave, this will assure you of financial independence. I’ve established an Irrevocable Trust with you as the beneficiary. I’m the administrator of the trust and to use the money it will require my approval until you turn twenty-one, after that it’s all yours to use as you choose. I’ve funded it at $1,000,000.00.

“Bob do understand what you just said; you just gave me a million dollars? A million dollars, are you crazy?”

“Must be, now how about college plans?”

She thanked me for my gift. I think she’d liked the necklace and locket better.

I said again, “So what about college, got any plans?”

She asked what was there to talk about, she seemed to think that such a question was ludicrous, I was in the computer business, she would be my helpmate, the highest rated school for computer science was the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where else would she go?

How could I argue, it was a foregone conclusion and despite the unlikelihood that she’d be accepted, she of course, was when the time came.

The next two years went by in a blur, we ran, she studied, I worked and she nearly wore me out.

She wanted my tongue daily and her bottom, oh her lovely bottom; she wanted me in her at least twice a day, morning and evening and sometimes during our lunch break.

I’d walk in and she’d be on her knees waiting or her hips would be propped up on a pillow or she’d greet me bent over the arm of my bedroom chair. We’d go to sleep with me buried in her from behind. My God the girl was insatiable, even old One Eye tried to hide when he saw her, panties off and waiting; not. I loved hearing her panting breath, her little grunts as I pumped her and her wailing climaxes. But I really think she was serious, I was supposed to fill her ‘til she gurgled; I tried my damnedest.

The big day came, her graduation. She was the salutatorian of her class, an Asian boy was the valedictorian; he’d bested her 4.3 GPA. His was 4.4.

I was so proud of her as she strode down the aisle and across the stage in her cap and gown; there were tears in my eyes as she took her diploma.

My company managers were capable and I’d be easily reachable in the event they needed me, I had my laptop, cell phone and a sat-phone. I took a month off so Jen and I could travel.

We did a week in London, British cuisine truly is an oxymoron, unless you’re into roast beef or curries there wasn’t much that appealed to our palates. But the history was fascinating and we visited The Tower of London, Westminster Abby, The British Museum, all we could take in in a week. We rode the London Eye, a 450 foot tall Ferris Wheel; it was at night and the view was spectacular.

Then it was on to Paris. Yes, the Parisians are as rude and haughty as advertised and yes, Paris is a filthy city and yes, the food was fantastic, expensive but incredibly scrumptious. We’d have to do a lot of running and dieting when we got back, we gorged ourselves. And of course we saw the sights, Notre Dame Cathedral, The Louvre with the Mona Lisa and we took an evening boat ride on the Seine.

Next it was on to Rome; my favorite, the people are so active, expressive and the traffic is frenetic. In the crowds Jen got her bottom pinched several times, I think that is the national sport for young Italian men but it was all in good fun. We climbed the Spanish Steps, we visited the Vatican and we saw the sights and we ate; pasta and more pasta.

We flew on to Athens to meet with our captain and guide. I’d hired a sail boat for a cruise of the Grecian Isles. On board we relaxed, sipped retsina wine with our meals, and I’ll tell you, retsina wine is an acquired taste. My first sip and I thought this tastes like Pledge smells, but it grows on you. Evenings we’d have a little Mexata and star gaze.

Our month ended too soon, we flew home.

The end of summer came too soon. It was time for Jen to start school. I wanted to delay the parting as long as possible. I flew with her into Boston’s Logan Airport then we took a taxi across the Charles River to Cambridge where our parting was bitter sweet; hugs and kisses and tears, after all we’d been inseparable for six years.

I’d fly up to visit Jen every couple of months, we’d have dinner but she really didn’t have a lot of time. Her studies occupied nearly every waking moment, Jen’s a smart girl but the curriculum at M.I.T. is daunting; particularly for a first year student.

Her breaks were my salvation; they gave me something to look forward to, Thanksgiving, Christmas and Spring Break and then summer, glorious summer.

Her first year we stayed home for Thanksgiving and Christmas then flew to the Caribbean for Spring Break.

We’d talk, talk about her studies, catch up on what had happened since we’d last seen each other and we’d love, oh how we’d love. She still seemed intent on gurgling.

She was home the summer between her Junior and Senior years, one more to go and she wanted to talk to me, a serious talk. We were out by the pool, she said, “Bob, I love this house, I have so many good memories, but it will be too small. You’re going to have to find a bigger house.”

I asked, “Why?”

“We’ll be married by this time next year and we’re gonna have kids, two kids. A boy for you, every man needs a son and a little girl for me so I can spoil her, and they’ll need rooms; see, we’ll need a larger house.”

How could I argue with her, her logic was impeccable. I hadn’t thought about kids, we hadn’t even discussed it; but then again there was nothing to discuss, she’d decided, one for her and one for me; impeccable, irrefutable logic.

Next morning I made an appointment for an architect to visit us, I had somewhere around 6 or 7,000 square feet in mind on two floors. I wanted it on the water, a large lake and I’d want him to plan the dock, boat house and a gazebo. Then I contacted a realtor to find the land, I something around five acres, lake side was mandatory.

The land was acquired and the plans were drawn, construction started in September and would be completed by the first of May. That gave only about a month leeway; Jen and I were getting married in June, the day after her graduation.

It was going to be a whirlwind, I’d fly up for her graduation, and we’d fly back that night. We would spend the night in a hotel, the same one that was booked for the reception. Our wedding was being held at a small, quaint church then we’d move on to the reception.

By the way, I didn’t plan the wedding; that was over my head, I’d hired a wedding planner and Jen held telephone conferences with her to go over details.

I’d asked Jen where she wanted to go on our honeymoon. She said, “Home, our new home.”

Jen wasn’t back until the Thanksgiving break. We’d just finished dinner and she said, “Bob, a group of my friends are going skiing at Stowe over the Christmas Holiday and they’ve invited me. I’d like to go. I won’t, of course, if you insist, but I’d like to go.”

My face must have registered my surprise and my disappointment. Not to see her until Spring Break? I was devastated, but I guess I understood, she’d never been anywhere without me, it was a show of independence. All I said was, “Don’t break a leg.”

She got up, kissed me and said, “Thank you.”

The sex that night was frantic, I gobbled her up and One Eye explored that velvet passage twice. He needed to be fed it would be quite a while before he could feed again.

I spent the loneliest, saddest Christmas of my life. Then she called, she’d arrived back in Cambridge earlier than expected and would I like to fly up; she’d show me around Boston.

I booked my flight and made reservations, a suite for two nights at the Liberty Hotel. This hotel was built in 1851 as the Charles Street Jail; apt I thought, I intended to keep her locked up while I was there doing nothing but making love to her.

She met me at Logan, I’d bought her a car, a little Mazda Miata, and off to the hotel we went.

In the suite there was a bottle of Dom chilling, I’d prearranged for it. I helped her out of her clothes; read I stripped her in a trice, got out of mine and fell on her.

It had been too long, I kissed her, wet tongue filed kisses, gave her breasts my lavish attention, sucking, nibbling twisting and tugging, enflaming her desire. I kissed down over her tummy, tickled her belly button with my tongue, traced my fingers through her sable pelt and opened her lips.

I stopped for a moment to admire her dark pink vulva, to inhale her special aroma and then I tasted her. I probed her virginal vagina with my tongue, the tip snaking in and out. Jen’s breathing was rapid and shallow she said, “Please, please.”

I took her clit between my lips and sucked it into my mouth, sucking it like it was a nipple and I was nursing then I flicked its pearly tip with my tongue, batting it, teasing it, laving it.

Jen started to quiver, her orgasm rolled through her body, rippling tummy muscles, contractions in her abdomen, spasms convulsing her vagina, she arched her back coming clear of the mattress, wailing in ecstasy, her fragrant fluids cascaded from her, a deluge drenching me. And I drank, drank of her heady flow sucked her juices into my mouth, emptied her, helping her down from the heights.

As her panting subsided and her breathing regular, she murmured, “God I’ve missed you so much, so very, very much.”

“I’ve missed you too, Cutie, would you like some champagne?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I got up heading for the bottle and added, “Me too, I’ve got your taste on my lips, and we’ll see which is sweeter.”

She threw a pillow at me.

I sat on the bedside and we talked, she told me about her ski trip, she’d had fun, I brought her up to date on the construction then she pulled another pillow down to her hips, slid atop it and said, “Take me, I’m yours and I want to watch you watching me.” She handed me a tube of KY from her purse.

I slowly lubed her, circling her tight little pucker, just the tip of my finger probing her, tickling and teasing. She wiggled her hips at me in frustration, which was ok, she was done waiting.

I slid smoothly through her anal ring and deep into her. She always gave a little moan when One Eye popped in, dilating her. She sighed when I was completely embedded deep in belly and I began my rhythmic thrusts. She was right; I was watching her as she watched me, both of with eyes open and smiles on our faces.

I accelerated my pace, harder, deeper and faster. She pulled her knees back to her chest, spreading herself, opening herself, offering herself to me. I wasn’t going to last, I fondled her clit to bring her along with me. Jen trembled, her body quivering as I pounded into her, my climax and hers simultaneous, she moaned and I groaned as my scalding cream flooded her guts. I slowly came down; she was milking me, draining me. I fell forward into her waiting arms, she kissed my and said, “I thought I heard a gurgle,” teasing me.

“Well if you didn’t you will by the time we check out,” I retorted.

We had a room service lunch then Jen had me for dessert, fellating me ‘til I was stiff. She bent over the chair arm, lewdly shook her tail at me, inviting me in. I slid in smoothly, rapidly pumping her hard. She liked me to really give her a reaming when she was bent over a chair and I did, ramming her, pushing her further over the arm. She grunted every time I bottomed out, not the most feminine of sounds but it was what we were both seeking, raucous sex.

We napped for an hour or so, had a repeat performance then showered and went down for drinks. I’d made a reservation for dinner at Scampo, a contemporary Italian restaurant within the hotel but they were for seven o’clock. It was just after five so we got seats at the bar at Alibi. Alibi is a cocktail lounge in what once was the jail’s drunk tank, how fitting.

After two drinks and conversation with the bar tender, we learned a little more of the history of the building, we went to dinner.

We split an antipasto salad then split a brick oven pizza washed down with glasses of Chianti. We passed on coffee and dessert; we’d make our own dessert back in the suite.

And we did, too. I had two helpings, she wasn’t as greedy, she only had one but it was a large one. We went to sleep, her back to me, me deep in her bowels.

We passed the next day in much the same way, loving and eating and loving again and again, then lunch, loving, a nap, loving and dinner and loving, I couldn’t get enough of her. She felt the same way about me.

And then I had to fly home. Time passed slowly but finally graduation was only a few days away, the house was finished and I’d furnished it, all new furnishings. We’d pick you our private things from my house later then I’d rent it out.

The graduation ceremony was all you’d expect from a great institute of learning and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology was that. Jen didn’t make valedictorian of salutatorian but she made Dean’s List. Her 3.92 GPA was hardly shabby.

We didn’t stay for the festivities; we had a plane to catch.

Her wedding dress and my tux had been delivered to the hotel and were waiting.

We spent the night in the hotel. My senior manager was my best man. Jen’s Maiden of Honor was a fellow graduate she’d become friendly with an M.I.T. We had reserved a room for her in the same hotel and had her picked up at the airport. It was hectic, people arriving, pick up, rooms; we didn’t get to bed ‘til almost midnight. Jen went to sleep full of me, our last time before the wedding I was sure. Wrong, it the morning before breakfast she was on me again, I just couldn’t fight her off.

Our ceremony was at three in the afternoon. My best man was taking me to the church; Jen would arrive with her Maiden of Honor. Jen didn’t have anyone to give her away, I joked that if no one would give her to me I guessed I’d have to buy her; she didn’t seem to appreciate my sense of humor. My best man saved the day, his father would escort Jen down the aisle, he’d given away three daughters, he knew the drill.

I was at the altar, the organ music started and Jen came down the aisle, a beautiful, beautiful young woman in a beautiful white dress with train. I met her at the altar and the service began. And, yes, I did take this woman and yes she did take this man, I kissed the bride. We exited and got in our limo for the trip to the hotel. Our guests followed.

Jen went to her room and detached her train and left it there, it was not conducive to dancing. Our guests were waiting when we got to the reception; we received our gifts and then had a sit down dinner. We together cut our cake and fed each other, the music began and she and I danced the first dance. Others joined in the dancing and the champagne flowed. We had a wonderful time to cap a wonderful wedding, the little church was perfect, the reception and dancing a lifetime memory but now it was time for us to go. Under a shower of rice and best wishes, we got in the limo and went home, our new home as husband and wife.

Jen said, as we rode, “Jennifer Davidson, I think I like the sound.”

I kissed her saying, “I do too.”

In the house she said, “Get some more champagne and meet me upstairs.”

She didn’t really want the bubbly, she wanted time to change. When I entered the bedroom she was in a snow white night gown, she came to me, kissed me and helped me out of my tux. I wanted to help her out of her gown but she kept it on, she hiked it above her hips and lay on the bed.

With all the reverence the moment demanded she said, “So new husband of mine is One Eye ready for his bloody battle?” The girl, no make that woman’s irreverence was amazing but I answered, “Ready, willing and…………She spread her legs and I was upon her.

She was already lubricating heavily and didn’t want foreplay, she wanted me in her and she wanted me in her now.

“Bob, I’ve wanted you since I was twelve, I can’t wait any longer, take me, take me now.”

Between her welcoming thighs I guided myself to her virgin vagina. She was wet and willing, she was tight but I slid in ‘til I met her hymen. I stopped, both of our eyes were open, she nodded yes and I tore her. She squinted her eyes and winced from the pain, just for a moment, and then she looked at me and smiled. I was imbedded in her and I began to stroke. Her hands had been fantastic when she was twelve, her mouth unbelievable when she was fourteen, her bottom; when she was sixteen had taken me to indescribable heights but now I was in heaven, I’d wanted her since she was twelve and now she truly was mine.

I stroked slowly reveling in the sensations. Gliding forward and back, sliding further into her virgin flesh, probing unexplored territory. We both had our eyes open, smiling, each at and for the other, experiencing a sweetness an unselfishness, sharing our bodies, sharing our love. In my mind I could have continued for hours but my body wasn’t quite so patient.

My body demanded release. I pumped her faster. Jen wrapped her legs around me, pulling me tighter against her, deeper into her. My hands were flying over her body, caressing her sides, her tummy, kneading her breasts, our breath raged, she quivered, she trembled, she rippled, convulsions washing over her, contractions in her most precious of places. I swelled and came, just as Jen matched me, frantic, frenetic we pounded each other; her ejaculate drenching me, mine filling her. Pulsing, jet after hot jet of my hot cum a deluge of semen and sperm flooding her and suddenly we were spent. I slowly stroked until I stopped. I was still enveloped in her hot flesh, she smiled at me and opened her arms, I went to her.

She hugged me to her breast and whispered, “I’m pregnant, you know, it’s your boy.”

I believed her.

anonymous readerReport

2013-10-24 20:28:54
h5z4zT I really liked your post.Thanks Again. Will read on...

anonymous readerReport

2013-03-01 03:52:44
You've got to be kidding me-it's so tranpsaretnly clear now!

anonymous readerReport

2012-07-17 22:52:18
Whoa, Great Story but facts need to be sorted. Rangiora not Rangoria is near Christchurch, New Zealand - and is thousands of miles from Tahiti.- and to get to Tahiti from the States, you'd go nowhere near NZ.

anonymous readerReport

2012-07-06 00:50:59
FUCKING AWESOME MAN!!!! Keep up the great work and please make a part two!

anonymous readerReport

2012-01-04 23:50:51
what happened to the mom?

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