Message-ID: <7866eli$9804140045@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: Erotales Subject: "Diana," by Erotales (bondage, sort of nc) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <8f44c474.3532c88c@aol.com> **** Story: "Diana" by Erotales (bondage, sort of nc, teen F/older m, probably not what you'd expect) This is a work entirely of fiction. It shouldn't be read by anybody under 18 or taken seriously by anyone who does read it. Send comments to Erotales@aol.com. DIANA Dear God: I need some help here. I'm sorry that it's been so long since I've been to church, and I know how it looks if somebody ignores You for years and then gets in trouble and runs to You for help, but I promise. . . oh, well, I suppose You've heard that before from a lot of people. I know You know what happened, but I want to go through the whole story from the beginning, like a confessional, which I guess it is. Plus I have such a hard time believing it happened that retelling it will make it seem more real. I need a good reality check. It all started four months ago. Really it started five years ago, but the part that's tearing me apart started four months ago. I had finally gotten enough time off from work so I could go visit Perry and Jessica. Our families had been so close back when we lived next door to each other, but then there was the divorce, and I moved out and got the new job 1000 miles away. I guess I would have gone back sooner, but the bad memories of the break-up were too strong. I hadn't really had a good excuse to go back, but I did keep in touch with Perry, mostly Christmas cards every year, and I was glad when he came up with the idea of a weekend hunting trip. I got there on a late Friday afternoon. Perry was home alone, as Jessica was up at the high school retrieving Diana from cheerleading practice. We shook hands awkwardly, and then he said "Oh, hell" (sorry, just quoting) and grabbed me in a bear-hug. We started trying to catch up on five years of activities just as Jessica drove up in the minivan. She honked as she pulled in the driveway. Diana jumped out on the passenger side. I was just amazed. I thought I'd mentally prepared myself; I knew she was 15 now, but I hadn't seen her since she was 10 and I still somehow expected her to look that way. Another part of me was expecting an alienated teenager, with a curled lip, rolling eyes, and total disdain for anything another generation might say to her. I've seen enough of that, but Diana seemed to be the same sweet, friendly kid she'd always been. She ran over to me, caroling "Hey, Uncle Denny," and threw her arms around me with a bit more abandon than Perry had. I'd always been "Uncle Denny," just like her dad was "Uncle Perry" to my own kids. I gave her a quick hug, marveling that she seemed to be about five-foot-four, at least a foot taller than the last time I'd seen her and even a little taller than her mother, who now gave me a quick hug herself, a peck on the cheek and a cheery, "Hi, Denny, how've you been?" I tried to maintain two or three conversations at once as we walked towards the house. To Diana I said, "I hear you're a cheerleader now." "Yeah, I *love* it." She pirhouetted as she modelled her uniform. "The first game is next Friday. Can you stay that long?" "I don't think so. I'll only be able to stay a couple of days. Maybe you could make a videotape and send it to me." "Oh, yeah. Were you going to take the camcorder, Dad?" She turned to him with a pleading look. "Sure. We need to send one to your grandparents, too. They might be able to get here later in the year. Why don't you show Denny one of your dances?" So she could do the eye-roll. "Dad! Out here?" We'd stopped momentarily, still in the front yard. He laughed. "What, you don't want the neighbors to see? How are you going to do it in front of 5000 people?" "That's different. I'd just feel silly doing it out here." Jessica said, "Why are we still standing around out here anyway? Let's go in. We're having a barbecue tonight, Denny, that sound okay?" "That sounds great." Perry was the leading expert barbecue chef on the block. We finally filed in through the front door. I assumed the subject of the cheerleading demonstration was dropped, but Diana, her pompons rustling in one hand and her schoolbooks, retrieved now from the van, gripped in the other, said, "Do you really want to see one of the cheers, Uncle Denny?" I smiled. "Sure. What have you got?" "Okay. This one's for when we score a touchdown. You have to understand the band's playing, and this looks better when I'm doing it with the other girls 'cause we each have our own part, but my part goes like this. . . " She started a dance with a lot of kicks and spins and whoops, and the silly rhymes that seem to be part of the national high school constitution for football cheers. She looked so much like every cheerleader anywhere that it kept startling me when I looked closer and saw it was Diana. She'd changed in some ways, of course. She didn't look much like Princess Diana, for whom she was named. (She was born not long after the royal wedding of Diana and Prince Charles, when everybody was going crazy about what a beautiful woman the Princess was, and Jessica just couldn't resist it. At least it was a pretty ordinary name, and Diana probably should consider herself lucky Charles hadn't proposed to a woman named Flabula or something like that.) Anyway, our Diana had had her yellow-blonde hair in a pony-tail when I'd last seen her. Now it was cut short, a little like her royal namesake's; a little shaggier maybe, not so impeccably styled, but still very cute and very feminine. It went well with her face, and those big eyes that had amazed us since she was a baby, looking as if she just adored the world and its wonderful sights. She still had the same small, adorable nose, and full lips that curled upward just slightly at the edges. So I could tell it was definitely her, for all the changes the rest of her body had gone through. The cheerleading outfit was the standard sort that managed to be sexy and wholesome at the same time. It showed off her legs, now long and shapely, their curves hugged closely by a sheer gold-tinged panty-hose under a tiny green-and-gold skirt. The top, green with gold trim, showed off a prominent bulge made by breasts she hadn't had the last time I'd seen her: another idea that took some getting used to. All in all, she looked fabulous, and I felt sure Perry and Jessica were having to get used to having their phone endlessly rung by teenaged boys. We all clapped at the end, and Diana hid her face behind her pompon in embarrassment and said, "I'm going up to change clothes, Mom." She gathered up her books and trotted towards the stairs up to her room, smiling at me as she went by. We sat around the livingroom for awhile, swapping stories and laughing a lot. I could hear Diana upstairs in phone conversation, probably an indispensible after-school ritual. She came down after about forty-five minutes, just as we shifted towards the kitchen and Perry and Jessica started bustling around. Perry mixed some drinks to get us started, and Jessica and I talked as Perry went out to fire up the grill. I stood by the fridge with my drink while Jessica turned her kitchen upside-down. Diana sat at the kitchen table. She'd changed into very brief shorts and a halter-top that didn't come down much below the bottom of her breasts. I could see her legs uncovered now, very tanned and even more pleasantly curved than they'd been in the panty-hose. It looked like she must use a hair-removal cream instead of shaving them, because they were perfectly smooth, and it was another change to get used to, so different from the 10-year-old's usual collection of scrapes, bumps, and bruises. Jessica frowned at her slightly, possibly thinking Diana's attire wasn't entirely appropriate for the occasion, but she didn't say anything about it. She'd probably long since given up trying to be Diana's fashion coach. During dinner the thought flashed through me at one point that it seemed as if Diana was especially proud of her breasts. It was the she way she laughed, I think, arching her back and thrusting her breasts forward each time. I also started to get the feeling she often looked at me when she and the rest of us laughed, as if wanting to make sure I was sharing in whatever was funny. I figured all of this was mostly my imagination. I wasn't particularly concentrating on her. I thought lots of different things during those couple of hours, most of them having nothing to do with her. So the point isn't that I was suddenly attracted to this fifteen-year-old. I'm just confessing I should have been a little more on my guard. We watched a movie on tape after dinner, one of those goofy romantic comedies whose title I can't recall. (I guess You'd know which one it was.) Diana excused herself and went up to her room. Jessica watched her go, and said, bemused, "This has to be the first Friday night in at least a year that she hasn't had a date. Maybe practice is really wearing her out." Perry asked me, "So are we still still on for tomorrow?" "Sure. What time?" "I want to get an early start. We should get out of here by about five. You don't have a clock up there -- we're putting you in Bobby's room, by the way -- he took his alarm clock with him to school." Bobby was their other child, now 19, starting his sophomore year in college, and no longer living at home. That was impossible to believe too, of course, but time flies. At least it seems to to us, I don't know what it's like for You. "Why don't I knock on your door around four-thirty?" I winced inwardly, but said, "Sounds great to me. I guess I better turn in now, then." It was around nine-thirty. Perry helped me lug my stuff up the stairs. Bobby's room was across from Diana's, and I could hear her on the phone again. Perry muttered, "Don't worry about her keeping you up. She has to be off the phone by 10. Well, see you bright and early. Or dark and early, I guess." We shook hands again and he went back downstairs. Their bedroom was down there, off the living-room, on the opposite side of the house from where the upper floor was. It showed either a great trust in their kids or a desire to be out of earshot of their constant fights. Probably some of both. I finished up in the bathroom and changed into pajama bottoms. I don't usually wear the top part; at home, if it's hot, I don't wear the bottom part either, but with a teenager across the hall I felt a little more comfortable with my privates covered. I'm pretty fit for 43, same age as Perry, so it must be that I like to show off my chest to my bathroom mirror. I had just climbed into bed when there was a light tap at the door. I assumed it had to Perry, back to mention something he'd forgotten. So I couldn't hide my startle reflex when I opened the door and saw Diana standing there. She was wearing a thin nightie now, that stopped at the top of her thighs and would make it impossible for her to bend over in front of anybody without embarrassment. She was looking up at me, those big eyes not nearly so far below me as it still seemed they should have been, and biting her lip uncertainly. The silence stretched, since I couldn't think of anything to say either, and finally she blurted out, in a shy whisper, "Remember that time I tied you up?" That had to be the last thing I expected her to say. I remembered it, but it wasn't something that was ever at the top of my mind. It was only a couple of weeks before I moved away. Connie was staying with her mother, and had the kids with her, waiting for me to sort things out at the end of the divorce. I was a little depressed, but not terribly broken up. It had been coming a long time. I slept over at Perry's sometimes, not being able to take being alone at first, sleeping on the couch (so the current arrangement was a distinct improvement). A couple of times over those last few weeks I offered to baby-sit Bobby and Diana so Perry and Jessica could enjoy a rare night out. This one time Bobby had been staying overnight with a friend, so it was just me and the 10-year-old. We watched TV, and I let her stay up a little past her bedtime, and we were watching one of those late-evening cop shows. In one scene in the show a woman who had been kidnapped was tied to a chair, looking very alarmed and helpless while the hero of the show, of course, tries to locate her. Diana seemed enthralled. Out of the corner of my eye I could see she had stopped fidgeting, almost stopped breathing, while those big eyes stared at the screen. After the show, I told her she needed to go to bed. She turned to me and asked, innocently, "Could I tie you up like that, Uncle Denny?" I shook my head, smiling. "Come on, I've let you stay up too late already." "Oh please, please, please? I just want to see what it's like. Fifteen minutes, then I'll go to bed, I promise." I kept shaking my head, nearly laughing, but she gave me that Look. I've never been able to stand up against that expression she gets, where she fixes her eyes on me and stares forlornly, as if her entire existence will be devastated unless I say yes. My kids couldn't do the Look, thank You, and I think Perry and Jessica had more resistance to it than I did. Such resistance as I had collapsed, and I said, "Okay, where do you want me to be?" She eagerly indicated a dining-room chair and ran off to get some appropriate equipment, which turned out to consist of bathrobe ties and discarded curtain cords. As she had me put my hands behind me down the back of the chair, and tried to tie my hands and feet to the chair similar to the way the woman had been tied on the show, I snickered a little with a mental image of the Babysitter helplessly hogtied while the kids ran amock. I knew there was really no danger of that here: Diana had no idea how to really tie knots, and by the time she was satisfied I found I could easily escape within seconds. I played along, though, pretending to be immobilized as Diana danced around the chair, probably imagining herself in control of an adult for the first time in her brief lifetime. After about ten minutes I shrugged out of the bonds and told her, "Okay, you promised you'd go to bed. You know your Mom and Dad will get mad at both of us if you don't, so off to bed now and I'll see you in the morning." She looked a little disappointed, but she gave me a hug and disappeared upstairs, taking the bondage equipment with her. I slept on the couch, only mildly disturbed when Perry and Jessica came in around midnight. And I hadn't really thought much about that night until Diana stood at the door of my room asking if I remembered it. I just nodded my head, nonplussed and incapable of speech. She looked down then, took a deep breath, and asked, "Could I do it again?" I blinked several times, and finally said, "Maybe sometime, Diana, but it's really late, and I'm getting up early. Good night. Sleep tight, okay?" I hoped she'd shrug and go back to her room, since I doubt if I could have just closed the door in her face. Instead she hit me with the Look. I could feel my resolve dissolving like a block of ice with hot water running over it. I flicked my eyes towards the stairway, a dead give- away that I was weakening. "Mom's in the shower right now. They won't hear anything. Oh, please, Uncle Denny?" I could hear the water flowing through distant pipes in the house. I couldn't believe the 15-year-old still had the same fascination with bondage as the 10-year-old, and that she hadn't somehow worked it out and gotten past it. That should have been another warning, I guess. But I'd had enough of the Look as I could bear up under. And as accustomed as I was to her eyes, there seemed to be something a little odd about them that I couldn't pin down, so yet another warning went right by me. I rolled my head on my neck in exasperation, and said, "So where do you want me to be?" She tiptoed back into her bedroom and came out with a small swivel chair, similar to the one that sits in front of my computer console at home: a softly-padded seat mounted on a vertical metal post, with four horizontal legs radiating out from the bottom of the post, each having a roller at the end; another vertical post rising from the back of the seat, with a padded support for your back at its top. She set it down on the floor of my room, and patted the bottom, saying, "Sit right here." I sat, and she disappeared into her own room once more, returning in seconds with what appeared to be a leather dog-leash: a really long one, maybe twelve feet or so, maybe made for those people who walk about fifteen dogs at once, who'd need some really long leashes because there's no way to crowd that many dogs together at your feet. My guess, anyway. I felt embarrassed as she directed me to put my hands together behind the backrest-support, not least because I wished I'd thought to cover up a little more before I'd opened the door, and certainly before she started in on this game. It was Diana, and I'd known her all her life, but still, it was a teenaged girl. >From there my thoughts jumped to the surprising fact that, while I hadn't really put much thought into that first little bondage game in the last five years, obviously she had. She tied my wrists together quickly and with an evident expertise in knots that had been absent five years before. In moments my wrists were secured to the backrest-support, with plenty of the leash left over. She dropped the ends of it down to the floor and started using it to tie my ankles. As she knelt next to me, concentrating on the knots, I realized with a shock what it was that seemed funny about her eyes. Her whole face, in fact. She was in full makeup: mascara, a little hint of eye shadow, a bit of face powder, a light lip-gloss. She didn't overdo any of it the way some girls do at that age, and she must have been well-trained by Jessica, a black-belt in cosmetics. I hadn't looked at her that closely earlier in the evening, but what memory I had told me that at least the lip-gloss was something new. Of course the point was it shouldn't be there at all at this time of night. She was supposed to be on her way to bed; what was the make-up for? And I could smell perfume. I'd gotten a hint of it the moment I opened the door, but it was more distinct now as she knelt close to me. Another thing I thought had been absent earlier in the evening. Up to this point I was equating the experience with the one five years earlier. She had just been an exuberant ten-year-old, and I'd had no feelings about the whole situation except a slight irritation at the delay in getting her in bed, since I'd felt pretty tired myself. I was irritated again now, and under the circumstances I saw her up until this point as a taller version of the ten-year-old. But as I smelled the perfume, saw her face looking so womanly in the make-up, and as my eyes slipped further down, defying my will to avoid looking, into the opening at the top of her nightie, seeing the smooth inner swelling of her breasts and the valley between, while she frowned looking downward and concentrated on her knots -- I felt, to my horror, an erection starting to push up the front of my PJ bottoms. Not terribly big yet, but already enough to be obvious if she were to look in that direction. I don't mean to criticize, but couldn't You have made it a little more voluntary? Is it that necessary for the continuity of the species for the male to have no control over that particular body part? As long as it's there when we need it, isn't that enough? I felt my face break into a sweat. I'm sure it must have been bright red. I didn't even know if she'd know what an erection was, but kids know an awful lot these days. More than we did back then. Maybe more than we do now. By this time she was done, and my ankles were tied behind the post, to the leg coming out behind it. This wasn't anything like the kind of job she'd done five years earlier; as I wriggled my wrists and ankles within the leather strap holding them, I could tell that, while not cutting off circulation, it was wrapped so snugly that I didn't feel confident I could slip out of it. The ends of the leash were both down around my ankles, so there was nothing I could reach to untie. I shifted a little to try to get my erection pointed not quite so straight upward. I hoped she'd be satisfied with the game soon.I knew her well enough to know I couldn't succeed in ordering her to let me go until she was ready. I momentarily thought about calling down to Jessica, who by this time was done showering. But not with that erection. No way. While doubting it would work, I decided to give it a try anyway. "Diana? This probably wasn't such a good idea, with it so late and all. . ." I stopped short of asking her to untie me; it was hard to admit that she really did have me helpless. In response she did nothing but smile and give me a nuzzle with her cheek against my shoulder. She gave no sign yet of noticing what was happening at the top of my pants, but I was less sure now she'd be shocked. I was stunned, myself. She might have rubbed her cheek against me at any age, I think, but combined with the perfume, the make-up... I can only say that I didn't consciously put it all together sooner because I didn't want to think it was possible. I was about to speak again, and put it a little more firmly this time, but before I could she turned off the bedroom light and opened the door. I tensed up at the possibility that Perry or Jessica might come wandering by, remote though it was. I bit back a shout, then, as she started pushing the chair towards the door, through it, and out into the hallway. She paused to close the door to my room and open up her own darkened room, then rolled me into her bedroom, closing the door afterwards, poking the tiny protrusion next to the doorknob that locked it. The click seemed magnified in my ears. She turned on the light, and I don't know what I expected to see. Somehow the situation had got me visualizing a medieval torture chamber, but it was an ordinary teenaged girl's room: a queen-sized bed with a pink, lacy bedspread, covered with stuffed animals that she might or might not remove before she climbed in and went to sleep at night, a small throw-rug on the floor on the near side of the bed, MTV posters covering most of the wall surface. There was a window in the far wall, with a very sheer pink drape hanging in front that wouldn't have stopped anybody from looking in, if there'd been anyone out there to see. From where I was, only the upper floor of the house next door, my old house, was visible, with no window directly opposite this one. My initial fear of being seen receded. I thought more seriously about calling Perry or Jessica, but now the situation was getting even harder to explain. It didn't look good that I was half-dressed in Diana's bedroom, with or without being tied to a chair. And with or without a hard-on. Diana sat down on my lap now, side-saddle, her legs to my right, and put her arms around me as she snuggled her head against my left shoulder and cheek. I still wanted to think I had misinterpreted all the signals, that there was nothing more to the situation than playful spirits in a girl who was just happy to see an old friend after all this time. Diana was sweet and innocent. She just had to be. At any instant her right hip would brush against my woody and she'd gasp in shock that I could be aroused by her, and I'd be more embarrassed than I'd ever been in my life. That bubble burst at the instant she shifted her head enough to put her mouth next to my neck. She kissed it first, and then started slowly licking it, the way you'd savor an ice-cream cone. My face felt numb, my head buzzing. This had to be happening to someone else. To complete that impression, I noticed to my left a large free- standing mirror, at the side of the room, and I could see a guy in it, sitting awkwardly in a chair with his hands behind him, most of his face obscured by a young girl who looked gorgeous from the back with a lacy nightie barely covering her behind, licking his neck adoringly. So yeah, it was just somebody else, and I was somehow observing, watching as she now draped her arm over his far shoulder while she started to run the fingers of her other hand idly through his hair, still licking his neck all the while. I tried to put some authority in my voice, which together with a feeling of nervousness caused it to come out unusually raspy. "Diana, this isn't right. Stop it now." She didn't react. "Stop, Diana." She whispered, "I knew you'd say that at first. Just give me a chance to show what I can do for you." She raised her head from my neck and looked at me, a dreamy smile on her face. "So don't say another word. Or I'll scream." She went back to licking my neck, letting her arm drop off my shoulder, running her hand slowly down my arm and my side. I could feel the blood drain from my face. What would happen to me if I made a sound and her parents came up here? I already knew the whole thing would be hard to explain. Would they believe me? Was she just bluffing? I didn't think I wanted to know any of the answers. I closed my eyes and tried to fight off a wave of dizziness, breathing slowly and more or less regularly. Up until her slowly dropping hand reached my hip and, even more slowly, moved towards my crotch. I automatically blurted, "No, Diana, no, no. . ." as she started to feel my erection through the pajamas, measuring its dimensions with her fingertips as if she was reading Braille. She sat up and stopped fingering my hair with her other hand, shaking her finger at me in mock sternness. "I'm not going to warn you again. One more word and I'll get Mom and Dad up here. I can untie you before they get here, but you won't have time to get out of the room." The smile burst forth again, bigger than ever. "I know you like me." Her hand petted and stroked my penis under its tent of fabric. "This feels soooo neat!" I helplessly felt it grow longer under her touch, the cloth stretching so far I could feel it pulled taut against my hips. She had to be bluffing about yelling for her parents. But even if she was, what difference did it make? Whether she'd really wake up the house or not, she obviously didn't intend to let me go. I told myself I had to get through to her somehow, that I could break the spell and convince her this wasn't a game, but. . . but what if she really meant it? Her whole behavior seemed so irrational, I didn't know how to bet on what she might or might not do. She slipped off my lap now, and knelt on the floor next to the chair. She was concentrating more on my penis now, fingering its outlines while staring at the tent with an intensity that rivalled her attention to that TV show so many years ago. With her other hand she began playing around with the waistband of the pajamas. I knew what she was working up to, and I tried to somehow sit as hard as I could on the seat, but as she started pulling the pajamas down, working them down past my butt despite my best efforts, I could tell there had been no way to stop her. In fact, the hardest part for her had been stretching the waistband enough to clear my penis, but she seemed to regard it as worth the effort; she gasped in appreciation as it popped free, pointing towards the ceiling. Afterwards she continued sliding the pajamas down towards my ankles. It seems hard to believe, but a part of me still imagined I was corrupting an innocent girl by appearing naked in her bedroom, and that I ought to be ashamed of exposing myself to her like that. I kept trying to tell myself I hadn't brought this situation about. Meanwhile, she bent down and took a first lick at my penis. The mental debate still raged within me, as I tried to work out some way I could stop her without attracting outside attention, as she moved her tongue down the shaft, slowly, and tongued my balls playfully before moving back up. A tiny smile started and grew wider on her lips as she approached the head, and with an excited sigh she took it deep in her mouth and started sucking on it in much the same way (I couldn't stop thinking things like this) I had seen her sucking on her baby formula not so long ago. I tried harder this time to somehow wriggle my wrists free, but she'd just done it too well this time. If I could just go along with her, I figured, it would all be over soon. Very soon, in fact, because the sight and feeling of her going down on me was overwhelming. I think the same sort of thing that keeps our attention glued to a train crash kept me from closing my eyes, like I wanted to: I'd gotten blow-jobs before, but I couldn't stop thinking about it being *Diana*, and remembering that little girl who'd ridden her tricycle around in my driveway. For all the physical changes she really did still look the same. Not long after she started running her fingertips lightly along the base of my penis while continuing to suck, I came. She stayed with it, swallowing it all and slowly withdrawing as my penis started to shrink, finally licking the last few beads of semen that dribbled out of my penis, afterwards laying her head down in my lap and giving it one last kiss. I felt I knew the answer, but I had to ask anyway. "You've done that before, haven't you?" I was starting to relax, figuring she was about to let me go. I vaguely reasoned that I needed to know as much as I could, so that I could somehow let Jessica know she needed to keep an eye on her, without implicating myself. How that could be done was something I was a long way from figuring out, but there should be some way. I wasn't sure Perry ought to know. He'd be more likely to let his anger get the best of him, but Jessica might handle it a little more calmly. As long as she didn't know my own role in it. Her response changed the ballgame a little more. "I've been with boys, yeah. They don't want to let me tie them up, so I've had to practice that on my own. But yeah, I've done that. I don't like sex as much with boys my age, though, so you know what I do when I'm with them?" She got up on her knees next to me, bringing her head up close to a level with mine, an indecipherable smile curling her lips. I shook my head. "I pretend I'm with you." She leaned forward and kissed me, a long, slow kiss, moving her lips against mine while she caressed my head with both hands. I swear to You I never had any idea! It had to have been something that gradually grew in my absence, this passionate teenage crush. When I knew her we always got along well together, our families were friendly and she liked me and I liked her, but there wasn't anything that could lead to this. It could be that she credited me as the person who introduced her to bondage (although even that much isn't really accurate, the way I see it, I just happened to be there), which had since become the big passion of her young life, so maybe the sexual excitement she got out of bondage got all mixed up with me somehow. You'd know, I guess, so maybe You could tell me someday. I've thought a lot about it since she said that, so maybe I understand more about it now than I did then. All I know is right then it scared the. . . sorry, I mean it just really scared me. It would be okay once I got out of there and got as far away as possible, but meanwhile it seemed less likely that she was about to free me, and the only other people who could possibly get me out of this were people who would never believe my explanation of how I had gotten into it. And who would discover me here before too long anyway if I couldn't get this love-struck girl to let me loose. Different thoughts were blowing through my head like a hurricane, and it was difficult to catch any of them. She was still kissing me, and her lips were the softest I'd ever kissed, her breath very sweet, with still a hint of the taste of semen. Under the circumstances, I wasn't too surprised at her next move. Still kissing me, she reached down for the bottom of her nightie and started pulling it up. She leaned back long enough to get it up over her head and off. She wasn't wearing anything else underneath. Naked now, she leaned forward again to resume the interrupted kiss, putting her hand behind my head to pull my face tighter against hers. I was losing the ability to think altogether. I knew it was wrong to kiss her, but I didn't want to stop. She broke off the kiss after a few minutes, and stood up, looking down at her breasts and fingering them lightly with each hand, smiling. "Do you like my boobs, Uncle Denny?" I had no idea what to say, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. She was playing with her nipples. "I love touching them. Sometimes when I'm up here doing my homework, I start touching them through my blouse. I try not to, because then I can't stop. Then I take off my bra and put my shirt back on, 'cause the fabric feels so neat rubbing against them. And I can't do my homework anymore." She looked back up at me and her grin turned a little shy. "And at night I dream you're sucking on them. Would you suck on them for me?" I shook my head vaguely, trying to resist one more time. She opened her mouth and drew in a quick breath, looking for all the world as if she was about to scream, then caught her breath at the last instant, closing her mouth and looking at me expectantly with an impish grin. I quickly leaned forward towards her right breast, my mouth open, not quite able to reach it. She moved towards me, straddling my legs now as she bent down slightly to push her breast into my mouth. She closed her eyes as I started to suck, breathing gradually harder, less regularly. Softly, she said, "Bite my nipple a little." I was afraid to do it hard, but I brought my teeth down on her nipple, and she closed her eyes more tightly, breathing out slowly followed by a quick gasp to inhale, over and over. She pulled away in a few minutes only to push her other breast towards me. "This one wants it too." After I'd sucked and bitten her left breast for about ten minutes, and begun forgetting not only who she was but who I was too, things took another one of those unexpected turns: she reached back behind her to turn off the room light, sat on my lap straddling me, facing me. As slender as she was, it wasn't that difficult supporting her full weight on my lap; I imagined she was 110 pounds, certainly not much more. She used her feet to start rolling the chair towards the bed behind me. I hadn't seen a second dog-leash, similar to the one she used on me, curled up among the stuffed animals near the foot of the bed. She reached behind me and picked it up, pushed us slightly back away from the bed to give us a little more room, and started to tie *herself* to the chair with it. I wasn't clear on what she was doing immediately, but I could tell gradually. She started by wrapping her legs around my waist and tying her ankles together, tying them also to that same backrest- support my hands were behind, underneath them. Afterwards, with her arms around me, underneath my armpits, she used the remainder of the leash to tie her wrists together. At the end I heard a click, whose significance I couldn't figure out right then. I found out later. Now secured, she leaned against my chest with a contented sigh, her head resting on my shoulder. She was looking away from me at first, but turned and started licking my neck again in a few minutes. The intense stimulation of the last half-hour or so was unexpectedly bringing my penis back to life. I like sex as well as any guy, I suppose, but it usually takes me awhile to recover. I can't do it over and over the way some guys claim to (probably more guys than can actually do it). But I'd never had an extremely sexy, extremely passionate teenaged girl sitting naked on my lap, her arms and legs wrapped around me, her bush and very wet sex pressed against my penis, and it was growing again, quickly. I knew she could feel it immediately -- she looked down and smiled, and started rubbing the front of her crotch against it to encourage it. By now it was enormous, and incredibly sensitive: I think I could feel every single crinkly hair of her still-sparse bush rubbing against the shaft. And she was getting wetter by the second, breathing faster. She tightened her knees against my side, and her arms. I couldn't tell what she was doing at first, because it took her a moment to find just the right combination of muscles to move, but in a moment she had lifted her bottom off my lap. My mind flooded with the knowledge that this was absolutely the worst thing she could possibly do, the one thing of all that neither of us could afford, and I frantically tried to find any way I could think of to prevent it, to somehow get my penis out of the way, knowing as I did it that it was futile. She hovered over my penis now, straining with the effort to hold herself aloft while she felt for exactly the right position. Achieving it at last, she slowly let herself down, my penis pressed against her opening and sliding easily up into her as she let herself back down onto my lap. She sat motionless at first, her eyes closed, breathing very deeply and slowly, and then started rocking her hips in a circular motion. I tried everything I could think of to get my mind on something else: car repairs, idiots at work, alimony payments (momentarily successful there, forgetting for a few instants the naked teenager I was having sex with as my anger simmered, but not for long enough). My consciousness snapped back to the here and now, the excitement building despite all my efforts. My only hope was exactly what hadn't been working up to now, trying to talk her out of it. I whispered tensely, "Diana, we can't do this, we really can't do this. Stop it now, please, please. . ." I broke off when I saw she was. . . well, I couldn't really call it ignoring me. My voice wasn't even present in her universe for her to ignore. She was breathing much more raggedly now, with every now and then a very rapid, forceful exhalation accompanied by a rippling of her vaginal muscles: she seemed to be having orgasms, one after another. In the dim light coming in from the window I could see a sheen of sweat that had broken out over her whole body, but she showed no signs of stopping or even slowing down. I couldn't decide whether her sexual responsiveness was really unusual, or if this would be normal for a teenager with a mad crush on, say, Leonardo DiCaprio, who goes beyond her wildest dreams and actually gets to have sex with him. Not that I look anything like Leonardo, but in a way, it seemed that to Diana I did. That was about my last coherent thought for awhile. I was familiar enough with the excitement of sex, the loss of all control, but this came on me like nothing I can ever remember. It was all a blur of sensations, kaleidoscopically confusing yet still clear in my memory now: the sight of so much smooth, perfect young skin, the sound of her soft, excited sighs, the feeling of her soft, perfect breasts pressed against my chest, hardened nipples like fingers caressing me, her strong, sexy cheerleader's legs wrapped around my waist, ever tighter -- and tighter still her warm, wet sex gripping my penis. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her face: it was still the face of the little girl I had known, yet at the same time the face of the woman she was becoming. Her arms tightened around me convulsively as she shook with what seemed to be her strongest orgasm yet, and I couldn't find the little girl in her face now: it was all heavy-lidded, open-mouthed sensuality. I stopped being conscious now of it being Diana, or of anything else except her skin pressed tight against mine, and the wet, slick warmth of her that surrounded and caressed my penis. Only the tiniest part of my mind remained aware of the likely consequences of what was happening. The rest of me wanted to feel this excitement forever. I could feel myself rushing toward the cliff, jumping off into orgasm and couldn't do anything to stop it. That self-aware part of me could feel the flood rising every inch of the way up my penis, and when it was halfway there I had time to think about how much trouble I was going to be in, that it hadn't happened yet but now nothing in the world could stop it, yes, there it goes. Gusher after gusher of semen spurted into her, and Diana now let out an audible moan; she could feel what was happening, as my hips jerked against hers. As I came inside her. Forever ended, moments later. I found I was back on Earth, coupled with a naked girl just over a third of my age. Nobody would believe I couldn't help it; nobody would understand how I could have gotten into this situation without considerable cooperation on my part. My only hope was that Diana could be persuaded to let me go before we were discovered. Otherwise, what life I had left would either be extremely short or mostly spent in prison. My semen was inside her; I was guilty, case closed. At least the shrinking of my now spent penis ended the cycle of her orgasms; apparently it was no longer long enough or stiff enough to give her the right stimulation, and she leaned against me, exhaustedly laying her head on my shoulder. We were both sweating, skin sliding against skin, both trying to sit still for awhile to recover our strength. I could feel some of my semen leaking out of her and running down the inside of my thigh. I prayed (as You recall) it could somehow *all* come back out, but I knew it didn't work that way. And the idea that it, my semen, was coming from inside of Diana. . . it was unbelievable. And we both tensed instantly, at the sound of a creak on the stairway, so I knew I hadn't imagined it. A footfall out in the hallway now. And a light tap at the door. Jessica asked softly, "Diana? You still up?" I don't know how I kept quiet, but my bladder gave way to the panic; I felt the warm spray shoot out of my penis, still inside her, afterwards trickling down her vaginal walls and dripping down onto the seat. Oddly, I could feel Diana relax at the sound of her mother's voice. She looked down at her crotch, where the last hot droplets were leaking out of her and dribbling down my thigh, grinned, and mouthed, "Shame on you," before saying aloud in a sleepy voice, "Wha-- I'm in bed, Mom." "I thought I heard you making some noise." "Probably just talked in my sleep. You told me I do sometimes." Jessica jiggled the doorknob. "Why's your door locked, honey?" "I dunno, Mom. Why do you lock the front door at night?" "Well, I just don't want you making noise and keeping Uncle Denny up. He's got an early day tomorrow." "I was already asleep, Mom." "Okay, Love you, honey." "Love you too, Mom." I could hear her footsteps retreating down the hall, and slowly let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding. That same step on the stairs creaked as she went back down. The whole world seemed surreal now; the idea that Jessica was trying to ensure her houseguest's convenience, not knowing same houseguest was sitting there still coupled with the far- underage naked daughter she was talking to after having had sex with her, was beyond comprehension. After five minutes of tense waiting to make sure everybody was out of earshot, Diana broke the silence. "Thank God it was Mom." (So was that Your doing, or just luck?) "They've got keys, you know. Dad probably would have tried to come in, but I can handle Mom." Pretty much all of our conversation up to now had been in whispers, but from this point everything was in even softer whispers, everything said slowly and enunciated clearly by both of us. "Ow. Diana, could you let me out of you now? That's starting to hurt." "Can't I just keep you inside me a little longer?" "No." (I winced.) I can't explain to you what it feels like, but (ow) it's really tight." Reluctantly, she finally said, "Oh, okay." She wiggled her bottom away from my stomach, causing increased distress as it started to feel like she was going to pull my penis off, but at last we separated with a pop. "Now untie us and let me get out of here. And I want to have a long talk with you about this tomorrow." In a perfect world, I imagined, I could talk her into telling her parents she needed help, somehow without my name coming up. She looked down, with the corners of her mouth turned up. "I can't." I tried out all possible interpretations of that on myself before I asked her, "What does that mean?" "I mean I can't untie it. I've got the ends padlocked together." The leash ended in metal rings at both extremities. "It's a combination lock, and there's not enough light to see the dial. There will be when the sun comes up in the morning. I wanted to spend the whole night with you." She gave me another one of those soft, sweet kisses, impossible to avoid since she started out with her face just inches from mine, and I broke it off as soon as I could. "Say that again." I prayed I'd heard it wrong. I'm sure You caught that one. "I wanted to spend the night with you." She squeezed her arms and legs tighter around me, leaning her head on my shoulder again. "I mean about the lock." "At sunrise I'll be able to unlock it. When I can see it." She giggled a little, like she thought that was the cleverest part of her plan. I closed my eyes tight. "Oh God oh God oh God. . ." (Just another prayer.) "Didn't you hear. . . no, you'd already gone up to bed. Your Dad's going to come up here to get me at 4:30. In the morning. That's before the sun comes up. We've got to be out of here *before* that." She sat back upright, looking at me in silence for a minute, while the thought filtered through her that there was a big problem here. She breathed gradually deeper and faster, and started saying quickly, "Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no. . ." She was shaking. "Daddy's going to kill me. I'll be grounded for a month, I know it. A year. Oh God, no." I decided against trying to straighten out her interpretation of which one of us was in more trouble --- I could use her self-centered teenager's concerns to advantage. Anything that would get her working on getting us loose. But the immediate problem was to pull her out of a full panic, and, unable to think of anything else I could manage that would get through to her, I leaned forward and kissed her, hard, pushing my tongue into her mouth, stopping the flow of whispered exclamations if not the shivering. I continued the kiss, feeling the breath coming hard out of her nose and the tears arriving at my lips after a quick trip down her face, until she seemed she might be calm enough to listen. "Look, you know there's got to be some other ways to get free. I'll start thinking of some and you think of some. I know we'll get out of here. Okay?" She looked at me, biting her lip, the tears still flowing. "Okay?" She nodded finally. "All right. Start by trying to get your wrists or your feet free. Just worry about one hand, or one foot. I'll do the same. Just try to do it really quietly, okay?" She nodded, and I could feel her starting to twist her wrists behind me. "Don't try to do everything at once. Feel the straps with your fingers or toes and see if it seems like any of them could get looser." I experimented with my own bonds, a little more methodically than I had before. After a couple of minutes she said, her voice full of frustration, "Nothing's working." "Give it more time. I don't want to give up too soon before trying something else." There was a digital clock across the room, its red digits separated by a blinking colon that seemed as if it was ticking the seconds of my life away. I commanded myself not to think of it that way. "Keep doing it for five minutes. Then we'll stop and try something else." It was 11:50. For the next five minutes I concentrated on every inch of the cords my fingers could reach, probing to determine how they went over and under each other. In five years she had obviously pursued the techniques of restraint with a single-mindedness you don't often see in the flighty world of the teenager; that was the only conclusion I could come to, as I failed again to detect any loosening anywhere. The movements of my feet were a little hampered by her weight on my lap, but I continually wiggled them too, without any greater success. On her part it seemed that to her the game was over, and she was making an effort at least as serious as mine. Her muscles tensed in various ways as she squirmed against me. It seemed she should have some advantage in being able to reach her feet with her hands, but there was nothing to untie down there: the ends of the leash were both around her wrists, padlocked, and apparently her probing fingers weren't able to loosen anything up. Her breathing kept speeding up to the point that she seemed about to cry out loud in frustration, and I'd try to calm her with a quiet "Shh - shh - shh," and she'd be better for awhile until the anger built up again. At 11:55 I finally asked, "You getting anywhere at all?" She shook her head, the dim light showing her tears again. "Are you sure you can't see the dial on the lock? There's a little bit of light in here. I don't know if my eyes are adjusting or it's getting lighter." I looked towards the window, which faced west. There was a streetlight in front of the house next door, my old house, but there also seemed to be more light from above. "Hey! I think it's a full Moon tonight." I felt a little more confidence for the first time. "It should be coming down into the window soon. It's already making it pretty bright out there. See if you can open up the padlock." She looked over my shoulder and started twiddling the dial. I could tell she was having trouble, not surprisingly. She started trying to bring the dial up as close as she could to her eyes, but evidently never close enough. Her chin digging into my shoulder, she tried to bring her wrists up higher, which was made more difficult by the cord connecting her wrists to her ankles, requiring her to lift her ankles higher too, sliding them upward along the backrest-support they were tied to, while I had to slide my hands up, since they were tied to that same support above her feet. Sliding her feet up made it harder for her to keep herself from leaning back away from me, and she dug her ankles into my back and her chin even harder into my shoulder. Through gritted teeth she said, "I can't. . . get it. I can't see. . . any of the numbers. Can see the little. . . marks around the side, so I'm trying to guess where 0 is, but then. . . when I turn it my fingers get in the way and I lose track." She was killing my back by now, so I said, "Okay, stop for now. We can try again later if we have to. Don't say anything for a minute, let me think." I tried to visualize every detail of the way we were tied, to imagine any contortion we could go through. "Do you think you could slide your hands down past your feet? And down under the chair? If you could get them down to where my feet are you could untie my ankles." After slipping her hands down my back, she said, "Your arms are going to be in the way. Your hands are tied to that post." "Can you go around them? To the side?" "Wait a minute." She moved her hands towards my left side and started to scrunch down in my lap. Her head pressed hard against my stomach, she gasped with the effort of trying to force her hands down just a little farther. "It's not working. Now my shins are in the way." "Okay, stop. Let me think some more." We just had to get more light somehow; as far as I could tell we'd exhausted all the possible ways to get loose except by unlocking the padlock. It was 12:30 now. I was facing the door to the room, and I could see the room light switch next to it. It looked like it was up out of reach, but it seemed worth a try. "I want to see if we can move towards the light switch. Let me try it myself first, and if that doesn't work maybe you can get us moving. Don't be surprised when I jerk towards you." I tried a quick forward move with my upper body to see if it would make the chair go that way. It did seem to move, a little, and I kept doing it. It seemed as if it was going to take forever, though. Each time we went an inch forward we went a half-inch back, and occasionally vice-versa. I finally told her, "I don't know if it's going to work. You try it." She prepared herself for a moment, then threw her weight back. I quickly said, "Wait, wait, wait." "What?" "It feels like you're too far back, and if you do that much harder the chair's going to tip over. Let me try again. Wait, maybe I can get my feet on the floor." The cords holding my feet went up over that horizontal "leg," and my toes were a little off the floor, but not far. By shifting my feet to the left I managed to get my left toes on the floor, or by shifting the other way I could get my right toes down. I couldn't get both feet down at once, or anything more than toes. It helped, though. With my big toe anchoring us, I found we could make a little faster progress as I threw my weight forward like before. About six inches a minute, it seemed like. I had to stop a couple of times to change feet; my toe really got tired of it. She looked behind her as we approached the switch. "Can you change directions? We're missing it a little bit." "I know. Let me think." It seemed that if I pressed my heel against the chair leg just as we were moving, that ought to gradually adjust our direction. I tried it. "It's working, but not fast enough. I'm going to try to back up." As soon as I tried backing up, I could feel the same problem as Diana had had moving us forward, behind her: throwing my weight back that way brought our center of gravity dangerously far back, and I could see us tipping over if I got careless. On the other hand. . . "Diana, I think you could get us moving that way. Throw your weight towards me and see what happens." I used my toe to help grip the floor again to the extent it was possible, and felt her leg muscles tense just before she jerked forward, her stomach making a little slapping sound against mine. We moved back an inch or so. "Not so hard! You'll make noise. Do it mostly from the waist." She nodded, and her next motion brought her crotch hard against my lower stomach, the impact cushioned by my penis. At least it made less noise that way, but it hurt! I didn't know how long I could let her keep doing that. Unexpectedly, in spite of ejaculating twice in the last few hours, the efforts of our naked bodies entwined with each other started reviving my penis. Meanwhile we were moving back slowly. I hadn't really been thinking about sex while we'd been trying to get loose, but the renewed stimulation reminded me: I just had to ask her what I'd been avoiding bringing up. "Um. . . Diana. (Ow. Her crotch crashed into me again.) "I don't guess you're taking the pill, are you?" "Are you kidding? How would Mom ever let me have that?" "How long since. . . your last period?" "Ummm. . . a week. Or maybe two. I don't know. Is it important?" I bit my tongue to keep from screaming at her. Hadn't Jessica had a little chat with her? She'd probably told her vaguely that her periods had something to do with being able to get pregnant, but hadn't said exactly how. She was probably waiting till Diana became "sexually active." Ha! Great. She might be in her most fertile period or she might not be, and there was no way to know for sure, for now. And I had to come here *this* weekend. It actually seemed like the least of my problems, at the moment. It's not like they'd sue me for child support while I was in prison. And if Perry hadn't killed me by the time I left here, it'd probably be too late once he found out she was pregnant. There wasn't any point worrying about it now. "Okay, stop, I think I can make it from here." I started moving us back towards the switch, and worked to adjust it so we'd end up running parallel to the wall, instead of running into it. The room seemed to get a little darker suddenly. I looked towards the window. All I could figure was that the Moon had gone behind some clouds. I stopped moving to watch for awhile, hoping it was a small, quick-moving cloud. After about five minutes I decided it was no short- lived phenomenon; evidently there was some heavy cloud-cover coming in. I could still see from the light from the streetlamp, but I already knew it wasn't bright enough to do any good. One more means of escape gone, or at least I knew we'd better not count on it. I started moving again. Eventually, we got her head directly under the switch. She was at least nine inches below it. "Okay, try to get up to it now. And be careful of banging into the wall." The same way she had earlier lifted herself up to position herself over my penis, she now lifted her bottom off my lap. Her knees tightened painfully against my sides as she strained to straighten her legs and lift herself higher. My nose was between her breasts now, and I almost fainted from the amount of perfume she had dabbed in that space. Her breasts rubbed softly against my cheeks, and I found I was getting increasingly aroused: there must be nothing like a naked, sweating, muscle-straining 15-year-old cheerleader wrapped around your body to make a guy young again. I kept hoping somehow my erection would go down before she noticed it and got sidetracked by it, and this wasn't helping. On the other hand in a way it was a blessing that I was starting to get so long: she'd now gotten up high enough that her bush was pinning only the tip of my penis against my stomach; if she got another inch higher, or if it had been an inch shorter, the head of it would slip between her legs and slide up inside her when she came down. She continued straining, squeezing me still tighter after her upward motion stopped, trying somehow to get just a little more elevation. Gasping with effort, she grunted, "How. . . much. . . farther?" "About three more inches." With a nearly audible sigh, she gave up, and came slowly back down, my penis just missing entering her and sliding up along her bush. Her lip was quivering, and the tears were streaming again. "I'm sorry, Uncle Denny, I'm so sorry. Sorry about everything. I couldn't get up any higher. We're just stuck here until they find us." I could feel her hands writhing behind me, trying desperately once more to free themselves. She was building up to a panic again, and trying to prevent that was a useful way of keeping me from panicking myself. "Stop, Diana, stop, stop." I tried to let my voice trail away instead of getting more excited. Finally it seemed there was no other way than the strategy that worked before. I kissed her, and she tightened her arms around me and kissed me hard, her overwrought emotions translating quickly into a renewal of the obsessive passion that had got us in trouble in the first place. It was hard work breaking off the kiss -- she seemed desperate to hang onto it, but at last I shook my head away from her and said, "Diana, can you listen to me now? Listen, listen. . ." I kept saying it until I finally had her attention. She nodded. "That little lamp on the nightstand, by the bed. You know how it turns on. Could you do it if we got over there?" She looked towards it. It was about twice as far away as we'd already moved. "Yeah, I guess so," still sniffling. The clock, by now, said 1:30. We'd spent nearly two hours in serious attempts to get loose, so far with nothing to show for it. We should be able to get to the night- stand, but if somehow that didn't work I didn't think we'd have time to try anything else. And I couldn't think of what else there could be. The first problem was to get away from the wall without making noise. "Lean your head against the wall and push us out from it." She was in a better position to do it than I was. Once we were about four inches out, it seemed safe to get moving again. I was facing away from the bed, though. "Get us back the way we came, now. We'll go along the wall for now, then I'll start turning us and moving us the right way." For about ten minutes I had to take her crotch banging against my penis again, and it continued stiffening, partly in excitement, partly self- defense. We moved about two feet in that time, enough to put us nearly at the foot of the bed. Far enough. "Okay, stop. I'll start moving us around the bed." I felt better about moving us myself as much as possible; we made a little less noise when I did it. I'm sure You remember hearing from me on that trip -- I'm sorry about some of the things I said on the way, You know I don't usually use that sort of language. I figured we had time to get to the light. The low point was when we came to the rug in front of the bed and found we couldn't get the chair up onto it -- it's not a very thick rug, but there was no way to get enough leverage or momentum to roll up onto it. It was hard to keep from swearing out loud, and Diana was getting scared. Her arms tightened around me, her breasts and tummy pressed hard against me, tears rolling down her cheek. I kissed the top of her head and then, as she looked up at me, her cheek and finally her lips. I started to get lost in the sensations again, her lips were so soft and sweet, quivering against mine. I think it calmed both of us down, though, and I managed to tear myself away from the kiss before I lost control altogether and nodded towards the lamp. "We've still got to get over there. It's nearly 2:15 now. We'll have to go around the rug, but I think we can still make it. You ready?" She nodded, and I started rocking us again, slowly turning us and starting around the rug. We had to stop and rest several times, sweat running down both of us, and each time she squeezed her body against mine, laying her head on my shoulder and giving my neck a kiss. It was always hard to make myself get going again, my eye on the clock. At 3:55 we reached the lamp, with my back towards it so her hands could reach it. We were right in front of the window by then, clouds still hiding the moon that would have made the long trip unnecessary. It hadn't sunk in until then that when she switched on the lamp and lit the room we'd be clearly visible from outside: we were so close to the window that we could be seen from the sidewalk in front of my old house now. There was nothing we could do about it: there was no time to somehow drag the nightstand away from where it was, and I didn't think we could even move it if there *was* time. I didn't think it would be likely anybody would be strolling by at that hour, but my heart started pounding at the thought that maybe, just maybe, some insomniac neighbor would get an unexpected bonus during his nighttime prowls. Diana looked at the window and gasped, and I could tell she was realizing the same thing. "There's no help for it, Diana. Just go ahead and turn it on. We've got to get out of here." She pressed herself against me once more, reaching for the lamp behind me. "Can you get us a few inches closer, Uncle Denny? It's too far from the edge of the nightstand. I can almost get it." I sighed and wriggled to get us moving just a little further back, and my heart skipped a beat when the chair tapped against the edge of the nightstand, because it made noise -- it took a few more seconds for the other implications to reach me, and I nearly groaned out loud in frustration. "Diana, are you sure you can't reach it? This is as close to it as we're going to get. We'll just push the nightstand away if we move any more." In a teary voice that was in danger of being too loud, she said, "Yes, yes, I'm sure. I'd know if I could reach it and I can't." "Shhh, shh. Try again, honey. I'll lean back as much as I can. You've got to reach it." I pressed myself against the seat back, and she tightened her elbows against my sides like a vice and straightened her arms until the cord around her wrists stopped her. I knew by her reaction that it wasn't working. She gave up finally and laid her head on my shoulder, quivering, sniffling, her own shoulders heaving in the effort to hold back sobs. I concentrated on resigning myself to what was going to happen. I don't really remember talking to You in particular. I think I assumed even You couldn't manage to get me out of this one. But really, You aren't going to tell me that break in the clouds, after all those hours, was a coincidence. Suddenly there was all this moonlight coming through the window. I think Diana had her eyes closed. I had to wriggle against her to get her attention. "Diana, we've got light. Can you see the dial?" She stirred and squirmed in my lap, and looked over my shoulder towards her wrists. "Yes!" I winced at how loud her whisper was. "Just a second, I think I can get it." She concentrated for about five seconds, and then I heard the greatest, most wonderful sound that had ever come into my ears: Click. She leaned back and looked at me, her eyes bright in the moonlight -- seeming to shine with more light than that. She hugged me excitedly and kissed me. I broke off the kiss. "Diana, we've got to get out of here now. Your dad's going to get up in a few minutes. Untie both of us now, okay?" I tried to hold her eyes with mine, and shook my head when she tried to kiss me again. That impish grin was back. Butterflies flooded my stomach when I saw it. "I want to make love one more time. Can we?" I shook my head again. "We don't have time, honey. We've got to get out of here now." "We've got time. Dad's not even up yet, I'd hear him if he was. He'll at least take a shower first. He always takes his shower in the morning. Oh please, Uncle Denny! I could still scream, you know." She sat straight up and gathered her breath, still smiling. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. That was probably a mistake, giving up eye-contact with her. Before I'd got them opened again I felt her lips against mine, her mouth open, moving. She was freeing her wrists from the cords at the same time, and in a moment one of her hands was caressing the back of my neck, the other rubbing my back, then reaching down and stroking my penis. I tried to say no again. I really tried, You know I did. But the excitement was building, I was hard as a steel rod by now, and the feeling of her young naked body entwined with mine was just too much. We kept our lips in contact as she lifted her bottom off my lap and let my penis slip between her legs and up inside her once more. I sucked on her lips, licked them, let my tongue battle with hers as her hips wriggled on mine rythmically, letting me slip in and out, in and out. I smelled her perfume, felt her buttocks fitting perfectly into the curve of my hips and legs, her stomach rubbing mine. I had absolutely no thought about who she was or where we were now, there was no feeling in my world except excitement and sweetness, and wanting to feel it forever. When I came, and she came.... I have a feeling that if we'd been found at that instant and I died right then, it would be okay, no big deal. It seemed a bigger deal moments later, on the way down from the peak of orgasm. All I could think of was I'd spilled more of my seed into her, and that in about ten minutes the whole world was going to blow up. "Diana? You've got to untie me now. Diana? Okay?" She looked at me dreamily, and -- thank You -- reached down to start untying her ankles. She started on my bonds then. As she worked at them, she said, "Uncle Denny? Can we do this again sometime? Okay?" My jaw dropped open. I was all the way down from the sexual peak now, and felt as if she was asking for another train wreck after the one we'd just survived. I just said non-committally that I wasn't sure when I could be back, stretching it out long enough that she had me loose by the time I'd said it. I stood up and pulled my pajama bottoms up, and she stood in front of me, still naked, still gorgeous, still -- Diana. I didn't think about what I was doing, I just put my arms around her. She held me tightly. In a way that was nearly the strangest moment of the whole night to me: just Diana giving a good-night hug to her old friend Uncle Denny, but both of us bare, me from the waist up, her altogether. I kissed her again, then gently disentangled myself and opened the door. I didn't say anything else, but her eyes held mine as I backed into the hallway. I knew there was no point looking first to see if the coast was clear. If it wasn't, it was too late. I went straight to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. I lathered up and cleaned myself quickly, surprised as I did it at the reluctance I felt at washing the mixture of our fluids off of me. I got back to the bedroom and knew I was safe. Escaped. I dressed warmly, using the coolness of the morning as an excuse to wear a coat with sleaves long enough to hide the marks on my wrists. I'm sure Perry thought I was pretty distracted during the day. My mind wasn't really on it. When he ducked into a convenience store along the way I made a quick call to Robert on my cell phone, telling him to call me back in a couple of hours to claim there was some problem at the office and I needed to get back and handle it. I told him I'd explain later. I did, sort of. One more lie, sorry. I didn't see Diana again at the house as I packed to leave. Jessica said Diana claimed she wasn't feeling well and was sleeping in her room. I know she would have gotten up if she'd expected me back this early, but it was just as well she missed me. I apologized to Perry and hugged Jessica goodbye, and said I'd call them soon. That's been four months ago. Every day I've dreaded getting a call from Perry about a pregnancy test and confession by Diana. Or from the police. By now I guess I must be safe: if it was going to happen it would have happened by now. I haven't heard anything from Perry. But I've got these letters from Diana. She sends me about one a week. Sometimes two. I haven't opened them. They're sitting in front of me here: 22 of them. Perfumed, with little hearts on them. I have a good guess what's in them. I've tried to put the whole thing out of my mind. It was the scariest experience of my life. But... I feel them tugging at me. The letters. I smell them and they smell just like her body, warm, soft, sexy, so exciting, wrapped around me. It'd be okay to read one, wouldn't it? I can handle it. It'd probably remind me that she's just a little girl with a terrible crush on me. It wouldn't make me want to see her again, would it? Maybe she doesn't even want to. How will I know if I don't read one? And how will I get her off my mind while these letters are sitting here unopened? Help me out here, God. Wait, let me just read this one here... [end] -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |