Message-ID: <11036eli$9805081900@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: cmndr@nym.alias.net (Commander Jameson) Subject: {ASS} RP "A Haven for Monica" by the BEAR (Mf, teen) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <355e703d.6619039@207.14.113.10XCJ> From: al-bear@ix.netcom.com (the BEAR) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: REPOST BEARstory f/M - monica.txt [01/01] Date: 10 Sep 1995 01:44:04 GMT Message-ID: <42tft4$m3h@ixnews6.ix.netcom.com> -------- BEGIN -- Cut Here -- cut here Another treat for the story-philes, from the mind and keyboard of the BEAR. Love, kindness, tenderness and sex between an older fellow and a teen are here. If these things upset you, you shouldn't be. Go away. If you are not old enough to be reading this stuff, then go mail-bomb some prude instead, okay? After all, you younger netizens aren't supposed to be here, right? ************************************************************** *** Copyright (c) 1993 by the BEAR. Duplication without *** *** changes or omissions is permitted for personal, *** *** non-profit use. All other rights are reserved. *** *** [Permission may be available.] *** ************************************************************** ***************************** *** A HAVEN FOR MONICA *** ***************************** ONE Beginnings I found myself moving out of an uncomfortable situation (which I don't care to discuss) into an apartment. Not in the best or worst part of town, but in a low-rent area, where the folks were mostly laboring class people and the rents were a lot cheaper. I made friends, became known and got involved in the community around me, and soon volunteered as an assistant at the neighborhood's annual campout. While there, I got to know most of the kids in the neighborhood, and they began to get to know me, and began to trust me with their thoughts and dreams. Most adults aren't very easy for kids to talk to because they don't listen. They forget that kids are people too, and have their own problems and worries, and deserve to be treated the same as you'd treat anyone else. No preaching or giving of unasked for advice, just conversation and discussion. During this time, I noted that one of the sharper kids, a lovely little redhead named Monica, lived not too far from my apartment building. She was an enthusiastic camper and declared herself to be especially fond of backpacking, canoes and boating, which gave us a lot in common right off. At the campout, a group of us set out on a three-day canoe trip on one of the rivers that flowed near our base camp. We were all trucked up the river to our first camp, where we put our canoes in the water and set off. We'd float down the river all day stopping occasionally for meals and rests, camping at preselected campsites for the nights. On the second afternoon, though, things went wrong. Monica happened to be riding in my canoe with me when a surprise thunder storm hit. We were separated from everyone else and, during the darkness, wind, rain and confusion, we took a wrong turn, entering a different branch of the river. We eventually realized that something had gone wrong and we were nowhere near the rest of the party. After talking about it a while and after studying the map we decided that we knew where we'd gone wrong and would have to go back. It was getting dark by this time though, so we decided to make camp and settle in for the night. Unfortunately, we were carrying a large pack of food, and no tent, so we had to improvise. Luckily the food was wrapped in tarps. One of these we set up over our canoe for shelter then we spread out our sleeping bags on another tarp beneath, consolidating all the food under the third. Our personal gear, in our packs, luckily including my backpackers stove and cookset. We cooked a quick meal, sharing pan and utensils and then snuggled up in our makeshift shelter to wait for morning. As it happened, it got unseasonably cold that night and we wound up pulling both bags over us and sleeping together for extra warmth. At first a little shy, Monica was soon cuddled up as close to me as she could get. During the night it warmed up, and by dawn when we awoke we were more comfortable. TWO: Monica Takes Charge That second morning when we awoke cuddled up together, it was a bit of a surprise at first. After a moment it was a very pleasant feeling. We lay there together for a long while talking quietly in the morning stillness about many things. She pillowed her head on my chest and I found that it felt good there. We finally got up, had a quick breakfast, broke camp and headed out, as we knew they'd be worried and probably planning on sending out search parties. Sure enough, we hadn't gotten very far past where we'd missed the proper channel when we were met by a ranger boat. They talked to us for a while and then radioed what had happened, that we were fine, and in excellent spirits, and that we would continue and would catch up with the rest of the party soon. We thanked them and paddled on. As the group's pace had been quite slow we had no problem pouring it on and catching up. As I said before, Monica was a very sharp kid. In a short time she had proven to be an excellent canoeist. I moved her into the steersman's seat and took the power seat up front and we were soon really moving downriver. Before we caught up with the rest of the group she kidding me about how much fun she'd had sleeping with me. I gave it back, saying that she was fully as good a bed-warmer as I had ever found, although rather short. After we caught and rejoined our friends, she didn't say another word about our night together. There were a few half-sly comments started, which she put down ruthlessly. She jumped all over the group leader, giving him what for about his ideas on canoe loading. She insisted that before we set out again, we had to unload the canoes and redistributed the load so that we all had food, shelter, extra clothing and so on in each canoe. That, I knew, was certainly what should have been done in the first place. So now, even though we still traveled as a party, each canoe was also partly self-sufficient, at least to the limit of the abilities of the occupants to use their resources. Monica told me in private that she doubted that some of our companions would have survived had they been the ones to drift off course. She added, "We, on the other hand had fun, ate well and (she winked) slept better." By the time all the repacking and reloading had been done, the little misadventure she and I had been on had pretty well been dismissed from everyone else's mind. At least we didn't hear any more about it. So far as I know, no one from the main camp ever even knew we'd been astray. Monica also made it known in no uncertain terms during this time that I was (in her opinion) ten times the woodsman that any of the rest of them were and that there was no way she was going to ride with anyone but me. I was a little embarrassed, but also flattered. Frankly after the bad time she gave the leaders, and the work she put everyone else to, the rest of the group was relieved she was with me and not them. The rest of the trip was uneventful, fortunately, with no noteworthy occurrences. She became accepted as my permanent partner, and by the time we got back to base camp, she was fully competent as a wilderness canoeist and camper. She had to tent with the other girls again, of course. While on the river and we couldn't be heard she told me that my company was more fun than theirs. She also made a few joking comments about she'd now prefer a nice, warm, cuddly bed partner to sleeping alone. I had spoiled her, she said, with a wry little smile. We continued our partnership back at the camp. Although some of the other kids may have resented her spending more time with me than them, nothing was said to me about it. I know she may not have been fun company for some of our other campers, but I found Monica to be intelligent, pleasant to be with, and very capable. In short, a fine person and a perfect backpacking companion, which we did a lot of. She was sensitive to criticism from others. She never showed much affection in public, but when we were alone in the woods, and stopped to rest, or observed something, she'd cuddle close, or sit on my lap and stay there if I'd let her. She always wanted hugs and kisses while we were alone. She liked to push the limits by getting a little too french with her kisses. She became as interested in the woods and wildlife as I was, and with a little coaching she soon learned to move through the brush with as little commotion as I can. She began to develop a woodsman's eye, and became a better tracker than any of our leaders. I taught her how to disappear in the woods so well, that someone could walk within a few feet of her and not be seen. In short I was very proud of her abilities and enjoyed her company tremendously. I had a great time and it was a tossup whether Monica or myself was saddest to see our camping trip come to an end. THREE: My Friend Monica Once the outing was over and we got back home Monica soon began to come over and visit me at my apartment. Before long I noticed she was ever so discrete about it. She made sure that even though (she said) she had permission from her parents, that she did it in such a way that very few people would ever notice her coming and going. She might have soon grown tired of our relationship except for the fact that we found even more in common. We discovered a mutual interest in the same type of reading material, found we liked the same types of movies on TV, and even enjoyed cooking together. Even doing dishes and cleanups afterwards was pleasant with her. While browsing through the books in my library she found dozens of interests she didn't know she had. Due to her questions and comments, and a couple of trips to the Library together, I soon found out that I could learn a lot from her, too, despite a considerable age difference. We continued in this relationship, getting more and more friendly as time went by. I found that I was spending less and less time going out with other friends, preferring to spend time with her. She let me know that she wasn't spending much time with the boys in her school, either. I was starting to get concerned, and might have made a break in things, when something happened that ultimately resulted in changing our relationship forever. One night, quite late, there was a knock on the door and there was Monica. Instead of the bright cheery demeanor I had grown used to, there was a different girl. She was wild-eyed and had a tear stained face. She came in immediately, shut the door and, for the first time since our escapades in the wilderness, ran to me and put her arms around me. Her parents were having a tremendous fight, and in the course of it she had been struck, and had locked herself in her room. After thinking about it for a while she still felt unsafe, so she quietly climbed out the window and came to me to plead for refuge. I was taken aback by her display of emotion, and deeply concerned about her circumstance. I dressed, and went over to her home with her. If anything she had understated the situation. From outside I could hear the argument still going on, and it sounded like it might keep up for some time. I asked her if she had left a note telling that she had fled, and why and where to. She hadn't. I convinced her that she should leave something. So she climbed back in the window, wrote a note and came back out again. She told why she was leaving and said that she'd be back the next day after school. She gave no indication as to where she had gone, though. As it turned out that was probably a good idea. I took her back home with me, and made her a bed on the couch. Since it was late, we both went to sleep immediately. After breakfast the next morning she went off to classes as planned and I didn't see her again for a couple of days. I was worried but couldn't really do anything but wait. When I did see her, again it was late at night. She had repeated her past adventure, sneaking out of the house this time because they had nailed her window shut. It seems that she was exceptionally worried because they were suddenly blaming all their arguments on her. They were saying that if she wasn't there, they wouldn't be fighting. This was obvious nonsense and I told her so. She felt a little better, but was still worried, and with good reason. The innocent accused always have reason to worry, especially if they are accused of something imaginary. How do you defend against the imagination? I soon convinced her that the best thing to do was go on and do the best she could and hope that it would all blow over. That was the best advice I could give, and I still can't think of anything else I could have said. Things worked out in their own way for the best, I suppose. FOUR: Monica finds a Home After all this, Monica came and visited a couple of times for a few minutes and told me that she was still in considerable trouble, and that her folks were giving her a real bad time. She was grounded except for school. It was two weeks after her second sneak out before she came back for any time. This time she stayed. It happened like this. She came to my door again, tear stained eyes and all, put her arms around me, crying her eyes out, saying "What am I going to do? Where will I live? Where will I go?" and similar questions. I finally got a semi-coherent story out of her. When she got home from school, her home was empty, her parents gone, and nothing left but things that had come with the house and junk, plus her own meager collection of personal items. On seeing this the first thing she thought of was coming to me, and she came straight over. We immediately went over to her house and it was exactly as she had said, with the exception that I found a note on the kitchen table that she had overlooked. "Dear Monica:" it said, "Your father and I need to be alone, so we decided that the best thing to do was leave. You are old enough to do okay by yourself, and we don't feel you'll have any problem finding a place to stay, or taking care of yourself. Why don't you stay with one of your friends that you spend so much time with? There is still about a week left on rental for the place and I left quite a bit of food. I know you have some money hidden away (not true) and I expect that you'll be fine. Have a good life. Mom and Dad." Now it came out that she had hidden her time with me by claiming she was with other kids. It had backfired. She got on my lap, put her arms around me, holding on as if I was her float in a stormy sea. She sobbed that I was her only true friend, and could she please stay with me until she could come up with something else? Thus it began. I took her in. We went back to what was now our home, taking with us her few belongings. Later we went back and took a few other things, but most of it we left for the landlord. When I called him, he only knew that her folks had collected their security deposit and left, not saying where they were going. They didn't even leave a mail forwarding card. I spent several days trying to track them down with absolutely no luck. Then I spent several more days trying to figure out what to do with her. I couldn't get any answers, so I kept her. What else could I do? I wouldn't put a cat out on the street, much less a person who trusts me. I also wasn't about to turn her over to social services, an agency famous for not having a heart. At her age, they'd just have put her in some temporary home somewhere, and she'd never know love again. I doubt that her parents had ever loved her anyway, but she declares that's not so. That they only stopped loving her when she reached puberty. Then they began to get distant very quickly. Like when a kitten suddenly becomes a cat, and isn't cute anymore. I assured her over and over again that she was fine, and there was nothing wrong with her. She was welcome, and she could stay with me as long as needful, no matter how long it took. She spent a lot of time on my lap, or cuddling against me for a little love and security. She soon settled in, and we became a regular household. We arranged for her address at school to be changed to mine, and I visited the school every parent-teacher's day from then on, which was more than her own parents had done. I am aware that many parents have a great deal of difficulty in disciplining their children, but I never experienced any problems with Monica because she wasn't a child. I treated her like the very adult she in fact was. I make my bed every morning, so, as a matter of course, she made hers. We shared in the cooking, laundry, dishes and all other chores just as we share in backpacking and a good deal of other fun and good experiences. Our few disagreements have been worked out with very little difficulty. Living arrangements have to be quite simple in a small apartment like mine, but we've done just fine. Her grades are excellent and getting better. No one has questioned my assumption of guardianship yet, and as long as things keep going as they have, no one will. Soon, I intend to find another larger apartment, as we are presently sharing the same bedroom, and I don't quite feel comfortable with that. FIVE: Monica's Climax: our Relationship: A few months after the last chapter was written, I found out how right I was. Had we moved, things might have been different. The Fall was nice. We went backpacking several weekends, and had a ball. Monica insisted on sharing sleeping bags for warmth each time because she had "...gotten used to it." Winter was cold, and on several occasions she had shared my bed, also to keep warm. Although admittedly there were other pleasures involved, not to mention simple affection, I never took advantage of her. At least not while I was awake and aware of what my hands were doing. There were times when I would wake up and find my hands or her hands in intimate places, and would gently remove them to safer areas. Summer came. The weather got very warm, and the heat made sleeping rather difficult. The amount of clothing we slept in had gotten steadily less and less. Before long she was sleeping in a cut up tee shirt and bikini panties, while I was down to my boxer shorts. At this point, I wasn't about to let her sleep with me. I know my limits. But, one night after showering, Monica simply dropped her towel and stood before me nude. She told me that it was too hot to wear anything, and that she saw no reason to be modest in front of me. I was not too surprised as she had dropped hints plenty of times, which I had ignored. I already knew, and she knew I knew that her muff was as red as her head. That night after lights out I took off my own shorts, and the fan indeed felt a little cooler. When I got up during the night to go to the john, I stopped for a moment and looked at her. In the dim light I could see her lying in her bed nude. She was on her back, arms akimbo, legs spread, long red hair framing her face. She was very beautiful. I stood there looking at her for a while, drinking in her beauty, before I finally went back to bed. I lay there in bed with an erection thinking of her, and with a bit of guilt at finding myself so easily aroused by her nude beauty. I went to sleep with a picture of her in my mind. The next morning when I awoke, Lovely, nude, Monica was sitting on the bed next to me. I still had an erection, which she was making a close study of. She was having a great time. It was the first time she had ever really been able to study an erect male organ, I guess, and she was unabashedly staring at it. I was afraid she was about to grab for it so I pulled a corner of the sheet over myself. She protested and tried to pull it (the sheet) away, and we wound up laughing, and wrestling for the sheet. Before I knew it, she was pressed up against me with her hard nipples pressed into my chest and only a fold of the sheet between us. Our wrestle soon turned into very sensual writhings despite my attempts to get her off me. The harder I wiggled, the more Monica enjoyed it. She locked her legs around mine and soon was pushing against me with her pelvis. I could only stand a certain amount of that before I began to thrust back. She came suddenly and almost violently, and as soon as she let go of me, I pulled away and finished what she had started myself, discharging into a tissue. I was afraid of what I might do if I didn't relieve myself. Her first sexual release had made her feel very, very good, and totally happy and relaxed. She hadn't expected anything of the kind to happen. She had never even had any serious sexual thoughts before, she claimed. Now, Monica was cuddled up against me, purring contentedly, caressing me, kissing me, and I knew I was in trouble. It took a great deal of will power to get her to let go of me, and to turn her attention to something else. The next night while I was showering, she appeared and hopped in with me, demanding to scrub my back. Weak man that I am, she was soon scrubbing all of me, enjoying the thrill of giving me another erection. She soon had me washing her also. She wasn't about to hear any "we can't do this". She wasn't happy until I had come in her hands. Then she had to get off too. I found my hands exploring her firm little body, her round little tit-buds, her smooth soft skin. Soon I was slipping my exploring fingers into her young slit, running my fingers in and out of her virginity, and rubbing her hard little clitoris into even more excitement. By the end of the shower, Monica no longer had any secrets from my hands, and had come twice under my touch. A couple of hours later, at bedtime, she got in bed with me. I couldn't dissuade her. She flat refused to get back in her own bed, pointing out that if she did, as soon as I went to sleep, she'd just crawl in with me. We developed a pattern of sleeping together nightly after that. She claimed she slept better that way. I only know that we caressed each other a lot and eventually fell into the habit of masturbating each other almost nightly. I felt guilty, but Monica's happiness and comfort with what we were doing soon calmed that. We slept cuddled together in such a way that I was sorely tempted constantly. I guess she was even more tempted than I was. Late one Saturday evening after a heavy petting session she was cuddled against my chest. She looked into my eyes and kissed me and asked me to make full love to her. I spent several hours telling her why I shouldn't. She seemed to accept that. I should have known better. That night I awoke in the middle of the night. She was astride me trying to insert my erection into herself. After a few minutes of trying to get her to stop I gave up and told her I'd do it. We kissed, and caressed and when I was sure she was fully aroused, moist and ready, I let her put my erection inside herself. I let her push down far enough so that I could feel her hymen pressing back against me. Holding her hips, I asked her if this was really what she wanted. She pressed down harder and told me that if I didn't let her have it in her right away, she'd be very angry at me, and told me in no uncertain terms that she wanted me. She wanted me in her now. I gave in, as she knew I would, and let go. She dropped her weight down until my erect penis broke through her hymen and Monica's virginity was at an end. She was tight but very wet. She claimed that it didn't hurt at all, that although she'd cried out, it had been from the sensation. Once I had penetrated all the way into her, I held her still for a long time, enjoying the sight of her almost hairless little body holding my organ all the way inside it. Then she begged me to continue, and finally I began stroking in and out, deep within her pinkness. She was very soon thrusting back, tears of pleasure and passion pouring down her cheeks. She was crying out incoherent little words of joy and pleasure. We changed positions, so that I could be on top and get better leverage so as to penetrate deeper. She hugged me with her legs, pulling me as deep into her little body as she could. I would push in as far and as deep as I could and then hold myself there, and move side to side. She soon began to move in counter to me and soon had her orgasm. Monica's first full climax was literally bed if not earthshaking. She clamped her little legs around me, and her internal muscles clamped down on me so hard, that I came too. By the time we finished, I think I was near a heart attack from the intensity of it. We fell asleep in each other's arms almost immediately. She woke me up and we had sex again that night and again the following morning. Unfortunately it was great. The next morning, wrapped in each others arms, we talked over our new status. I was no longer a surrogate father, I was essentially a husband and lover. Monica was no longer my foster daughter, but my lover and my wife. Oddly enough as it worked out, nothing observable to outsiders changed. We just slept in the same bed and had sex together a lot. Everything else remained the same. When I met Monica, she had just turned twelve. By the time she came to live with me she was just past thirteen. When we became lovers, she was almost fourteen. I know she's young, but under the circumstances, I may as well enjoy myself, because Monica is having a fine time. It may be a poor excuse, but sexually I did nothing and do nothing without her full approval and cooperation. In fact, she is usually the instigator. The only thing I have insisted upon is that she use the pill. I'm not ready to see her have a child yet. As if I could keep her from getting pregnant if she wanted to. I sometimes feel as if I have little choice, because all she'd have to do is skip a few pills, and there she'd be. She has refused to consider using prophylactics. It's amazing I didn't knock her up during that first few days of incredible lust. As to the future, perhaps she'll find another and leave me. Perhaps not. I'll just go on and enjoy my lovely, sweet, sexual Monica while I have her with me, no matter how long that might be. We will probably move away as soon as she graduates from high school. Among her schoolmates she has a reputation as a bookworm, because her grades are so high. Mostly she makes excuses so that she can be with me rather than go out on dates. When she does go out, she doesn't accept anything like a pass from the boys. If they try, they get a black eye. Then she comes home and tells me about it, and we make love. ### END -- Cut Here -- cut here -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- the BEAR quotes Teihard de Chardin: "Someday after we have mastered the winds, the waves, the tides, and gravity, we shall harness the energies of love. Then for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire." -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Author: the BEAR (email address not valid anymore) -- CJ I don't write any stories. I'm just a reader, and sometimes a reposter. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----