Message-ID: <11208eli$9805121338@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com Subject: {SJR}JDR"The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane 13B"( bf mF mF+ )[47/52] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6j8s81$hqu$1@sparky.wolfe.net> The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other matters that you find distasteful. Caveat lector; you read at your own risk. These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way to encourage them to continue entertaining you. The copyright of this story belong to the author, and the fact of this posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as well. This particular series is by Santo J. Romeo. That might even be his real name. The version that I have copied used his initials, and I have followed suit. It is more a tragic story of coming of age than simply a sex story, and individual segments might not contain any sex. The entire story, however, is a hot one. ======== **** WARNING **** WARNING **** WARNING **** THIS DOCUMENT IS A SEXUALLY GRAPHIC STORY ABOUT AN INTENSE SEXUAL, EMOTIONAL AND INTELLECTUAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN A TEENAGE GIRL AND A YOUNG BOY AND THE COURSE OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP OVER A PERIOD OF 10 YEARS. IT IS A DRAMATIZATION ABOUT REAL PEOPLE AND THEIR CON- FLICT WITH SOCIAL EXPECTATIONS. IF THIS SUBJECTS OFFENDS YOU OR IF SEXUAL LANGUAGE UPSETS YOU, OR IF YOU DON'T WANT THIS MATERIAL SEEN BY UNDER-18 OR OTHERWISE UNQUALIFIED PERSONS, DELETE THIS DOCUMENT. THIS DOCUMENT IS COPYRIGHTED 1994, 1996 BY SJR. SO--HEY, YOU CAN COPY IT BUT YOU CAN'T CHANGE IT OR SELL IT UNLESS I SAY SO. ==================================== THE ADVENTURES OF ME AND MARTHA JANE by S.J.R. sjr <73233.1411@CompuServe.COM> ============ PART 13B: We dropped by Martha's place, changed clothes and then spent the rest of the afternoon on the Staten Island Ferry. Martha showed me what she called the "expected tourist attractions" -- the Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, City Hall. As dusk approached we walked uptown toward Greenwich Village, where she took me to a hairdresser for a very expensive hair- cut. Gradually, Martha cheered up. Gradually, I became more sullen. We strolled through New York University and stopped in a couple of book emporiums on Broadway. "Wanna get anything?" Martha asked as I fingered a volume in a pile of books on a table at the Strand Bookstore. I gave a rueful little laugh and pointed at one of the books. "An out of print copy of 'Gregory the Great'," I said. "Brother Martin back home would give his eye teeth for this." "Why don't you buy it and take it back home for him?" "I'd want it for myself. Brother Martin loaned me that book from the school library as a special project. He said he didn't want to waste my time in basic English, so he gave me extra credit for writing a report on this book. It's great. Whoever thought a biography of the first great Pope of the Church could be so good? Wouldn't it be great if I could--?" I stopped and sighed. "If you could what, hon?" "If...if I could absorb all this. Just stay here and go through every one of these things. There are books and ideas here that go back hundreds of years." I shook my head. "I'd never be able to do it all." "Nobody can do it all, Steven." "But I want to." "Nobody can, hon." "The problem is, I wouldn't even be able to get started. Why start with one, when there are thousands, tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands, of books in here? I wouldn't finish Chapter One before I'd have to get on a plane back to Memphis." She smirked. "So that's what you've been thinking about. I thought so." I sighed again, and shoved my hands into my pockets. "Yeah." "Come on," she said, "Let's go find dinner." We had dinner at a small place in Greenwich Village and then took the bus home. I lounged on the sofa. Martha plopped into the fluffy old easy chair beside her small fireplace. "What'll we do tonight? It's not even eight o'clock and I didn't make plans for tonight because I wanted you to have one night to call the shots. You know your way around the city a little now, so I thought you'd like to set it up yourself for a change." "You plan real good, Miss Martha." "That's not an answer. Just tell me what you want to do." I yawned. "Oh, I dunno." "Steven...I've been leading you around town for a week now. In fact, I've been leading you around all your life. I didn't bring you to New York to lead you on a leash. I brought you here to open you up. I brought you here to show you that the whole world isn't Memphis and you don't always get punished for saying and doing what you want." I smiled gratefully, and shrugged. "Oh, c'mon. Talk to me." "What do you want me to say?" She sighed impatiently. "It's not what I want you to say, it's what YOU want to say. It's what you want to do." "I don't know what I want to do." "You wanna just sit here and mope about going back to Memphis? You're not in Memphis yet, Steven. You're still in Manhattan. With me. You're here. Now. Stop going over the past and stop worrying about the future. You see what that sort of thing did to me this afternoon at work. I said what I had to say about it, and then I moved on." "Okay, well...First of all, I'm a little tired." "Right, I'll buy that. Sounds reasonable. I am too, actually." I paused. She waited. "Steven" she said quietly. "Talk to me. Wanna just talk? A nice, restful Thursday evening, talking my head off would be very nice. I've got you to do a lot of things, but I still can't get you to talk. I haven't forgotten who you are, Steven. I know you're still young and unsure. I know that New York is intimidating, and it was for me when I came here. But you still have feelings and ideas. I wish I could figure them all out on my own, but I can't." I thought for a moment. "Well?" she said. I sat up straight. "Come one, let's take a shower." She laughed. "That's what you want to do, take a shower?" I walked to her and took her hand and gave a little tug. "Come on," I said. We showered together. "How exciting," Martha said sarcastically as she soaped her hands. "This is a prelude to what's next," I said mysteriously, swabbing my shoulders and arms. "Hon, everything's a prelude to what's next, and this gives me a pretty good idea what it will probably be. But do you have to shower to talk?" "You'll see," I said. At the end of our shower I asked her to re-soap her hands and make the suds thick and slippery. "Now," I said, holding my cock, "Get me hard. Come on. Get me really hard." She smiled at me quizzically as she worked on my cock. "Steven... what are you up to? This is a heck of way to start a conversation." "You'll see. Come on, do it." When I was fully erect I asked Martha, "Are you wet?" She said, "Of course I am, what do you think?" "Okay," I said, and I rinsed the soap away quickly and then in one smooth motion I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. "Steven," she complained, "We're still wet from the shower." "I don't care," I said, and tumbled her onto the bed. She looked at me wonderingly as I turned out the bedroom light and then stretched her out on her back and opened her legs and lay on her and looked down to aim my cock and then slowly and deeply and yearning- ly entered her, sighing as I enjoyed the sweet long slide inward. Her eyes widened and she whispered, "Oh, my. Steven. I have to thank Fiore for more than just my nineteen inch waist. Mmm." I slid in and out a few times. I muttered a little breathlessly, watching her hips adjust to my length, "I love your nineteen inch waist. I love getting big and hard and going into you." When I felt thoroughly lubricated and comfortable I slid all the way in and held myself there and embraced her closely, one arm around her waist and the other around her neck, and hugged her and nestled my face against her neck. I lay motionless, my cock deep and snug and hard and wet inside her. "Now," I said, "we can talk." She laughed quietly, snaking her arms around me. "And I thought you said you weren't a good conversationalist." She kissed my cheek. "This is a very sexy way to have a talk." I kissed her neck. "Listen. I don't know how to tell you what I'm thinking because I'm not thinking right now. I'm feeling. I'm feeling how good it is to have you holding me and to just be inside you. I'm feeling how good it is to walk in Central Park with you and go to a deli and eat matso ball soup. I'm feeling how good it is to feel good with you. I don't like to spend a lot of time talking about how I feel. I have to do something about it. I have to put my feelings to work. I don't want to spend a lot of time analyzing them and talking about them, I want to do something about them. I don't want to just look at books and look at movies and read plays. I want to do them. I want to make them real, I want to make them into something I can touch and see and hear and taste. I don't want to just look at you or think about you, I want to hold you and lick you and fuck you. You are my feelings. When I put my fingers around your waist I'm feeling I'm your waist, and when I touch your skin it's because your skin is my feelings. And when I fuck, what you feel when I'm inside you is what I'm feeling. I was a little scared with Ronnie last night, and with you, because what you and Ronnie were feeling was what I was feeling. When Ronnie was sad, I was sad. When Ronnie was afraid that I wouldn't let her have her full pleasure, I felt it too. I didn't want to just be friends with her, I wanted to give her pleasure, I wanted to feel with her when she felt that release, that comfort, that closeness. And when I saw you wanting the same pleasure I wanted the same pleasure for you and I wanted to feel it with you. I wanted it to be so good I'd never forget it, and I wanted to make it so good for you, you'd never forget it, either. I wanted it because I felt you wanting it. I want it because that's the way you make me feel. When you were upset this afternoon I didn't just see it, I felt it. When you're happy I don't just see it, I feel it. When you're almost cumming and not there yet, I feel it, too." I hugged her. "I don't want to just think about going back home, I want to go back home and do something. I don't want to look at New York and think about New York, I want to do New York. I don't want to think about being here, I want to be here. I don't want it later, I want it now. It won't do me any good later. I need it now. I needed everything yesterday and I want to do everything now. I don't want to think. I don't like thinking. I want to feel it and do it." I licked her ear. "I love your ear. I love your neck." I kissed her neck. "I love your nipples and your navel and your legs and your feet and your cunt. When I go inside you I don't put a dick in you, I put all of me in you. I put my body and my thoughts and my feelings, my past and my present and my future in you. When I cum the only thing I think and the only thing I feel and the only thing in the whole world for me is cumming, and there isn't anything else. And I don't want there to be anything else." I stopped to pull my arm from under her neck and stroke her hair. "Baby," she whispered. Inside her, she hugged me. We talked for an hour. I did most of the talking, hugging her and stroking her hair and kissing her neck, and she did most of the listen- ing. Now and then when I softened inside her she would lift my face and watch me talking to her and squeeze me inside until I was hard again. After a while I stopped talking and we fucked for a few minutes, slowly and lovingly, and it was one of the few times that I fucked Martha while not watching her; I fucked gently and deeply, nestling into her neck and listening to her breathe. When the pleasure mounted beyond anything more than an affectionate, friendly probing, I would stop. She would ask a question or make a comment and I would start talking again. Mostly, she listened and watched me and let me know with small contractions inside her what she was feeling. I talked about the things I yearned to do, the person I yearned to be. She asked me to describe that person, and I expended so much time and so many words trying to explain it that she asked me to give her a name, someone I knew who mirrored what I thought I wanted to be. I mentioned Gregory Peck. She laughed out loud and said, "But, hon, don't you see? You're describing someone else, not yourself." She wanted me to tell her what my plans were, precisely, when I returned home. I told her I'd keep working. She asked why I was so willing to sacrifice the things I really wanted by wearing myself out with a paper route. I told her I wanted a car, I wanted freedom to move around, I wanted the clothes, friends, and independence others had. She said having what others have wasn't as important as being myself; I should be in the theatre, and I had better opportunities for a future in college if I spent more time in activities at Christian Brothers. I told her I didn't want to be in high school, I wanted to be in any other place. She was amused and somewhat awed by my willingness to risk every- thing I had for everything I didn't have. She said I should work with what was available. She told me I was trying too hard to be every- one but myself. "I'd like to be," I said earnestly, "like you." And she laughed and said, "Like me?" and then she frowned and stroked my hair and said, "Steven, I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be you. And I don't want you to work yourself to death the way I did. Oh, sure, you have to work hard, but I gave up everything to get through Memphis State in three years instead of four, and kept weekend jobs on top of it. And you know what it got me? It got me worn out. Not quite twenty-four years old yet, and I'm all worn out and frustrated with work. It got me used to not taking my time and made me want everything and want it to be perfect. Take my word for it, you have to stop and look around and realize that the whole world isn't going to pay attention to you just because you're working yourself to death." "But you got out of Mmephis," I said. "Yes, and you'll get out, too. But it was part luck and part hard work and part nerve. I could just as well have been picked by another school, but it happened the way it did. The same way we just happened. And some things, Steven, don't happen. You can't make things happen, you can only make yourself available. Don't count on things happening that you can't control. Don't you remember what you said to Ronnie, you can't make someone be good to you if they don't want to? Oh, you seem so passive and easygoing on the outside -- but you're very aggressive, aren't you?" We got out of bed for a few minutes and had a snack. Then we embraced in bed again and Martha sucked me to an erection and I went into her and we hugged and lay still for a while. She asked me about Karen. I told her as much as I could remember about the incident, though I hesi- tated to go into it with any great detail. Martha said that disappoint- ment was the norm when it came to intimacy. "Not everyone's a perfect partner," she said, "and some are lousy. It all depends on who you're with. Remember what I said about being able to fly on your own, Steven. You don't always have someone around to show you the way or to validate yourself. That's why you have to be you and have what you have, not be someone else and have what someone else has. God, I wish you'd believe in yourself. I wish your folks would give you just a little break, a little recognition. But they won't, Steven, not any more than Mr. Buchanan or Evelyn would give it to me." The pleasure of being inside her soon asserted itself. I began talking less and moving more frequently in her for a few minutes before we started talking again. Soon I lifted on my arms and fucked steadily. She whispered, "Don't keep stopping, Steven, it's feeling good." "Did I talk your head off?" "You sure did. Now I want you to fuck my brains out." I watched her as I moved and she put her arms around my neck and looked down at me pumping in her. "Hon, it's nice." She looked up at me and saw the pleasure in my face. SHe smiled softly and churned her hips under me, and I felt her inner muscles writhing and sucking. When I moaned she smiled happily and whispered, "Know what I want you to be? I want you to be you. I want you to be fifteen and strong and full of cum. I loved watching you with Ronnie, watching both of you discover each other and please each other. I don't want you to get old and mean and moody, Steven, I want you to always be new and pure. And you're so very sensual, and so intense, and you really know how to give pleasure. I want you to be yourself and enjoy me, and not worry about what was, or what might be. Stay young for me. I feel so young when you fuck me like this. It was so good, the very first time." "Martha, you're...gonna make me cum." "But I want you to. I want you to cum when you feel like it. Come on, just cum. Don't cum because I do, cum just because you want to." She began tightening on me, smiling into my eyes, and I stopped and fought for breath and she asked, "What's the matter?", and I moaned, "It feels so good!" She grinned. "It's supposed to, Steven!" She began moving her hips gently under me, up and down, sliding her cunt on my shaft. The suction she created was overpowering. "Come on," she taunted. "Come on, I want you to be selfish for a change. There's nothing wrong with it." My head snapped back and I groaned again. She kept up the rhythm and began seriously milking me as she moved. "Come on," she whispered. "Come on." "Oh!" "I'm not your mother, hon. You won't lose me if you don't always please me first, don't you know that? Right now, I want you to please yourself first. Let me just give to you, and I won't ask for anything, and you don't have to give anything back. You're allowed to do that, you know. I'll let you because I know you'd do the same for me." I gasped and closed my eyes and raised high on my arms and began pumping into her. She ceased her undulations and held her pelvis against me and closed tightly on my cock. "Yes," she whispered, "Oh, yes, hon. Take it. Take what you want." I began to stroke deeply and strongly in her, my pelvis seeking her deeply on the instroke, relishing the tickle of her cervix as it nipped and grabbed my tip. "I'm other girls," she whispered hotly. "I'm everyone you ever wanted. I'm all those others and now I'm saying yes. I'm Josephine Louise. I'm Karen. I'm Ronnie. I'm not saying no. And I like it, Steven. I like it and I want it." I burrowed more deeply into her than I had ever gone before. And I was bigger and harder and more seeking than ever. I fucked deliberately and deeply, and soon the grip of her inner warmth changed and became less rhythmic and less purposeful and became more erratic. She became slicker and hotter, and I saw her eyes close, and her smile vanished and she squinted and frowned in surprise and concentration. "God," she breathed suddenly, "you're so big." And I whispered "Fuck" and shifted on my arms and raised on my toes and my toes dug into the bed and then I had the balance and the leverage that I wanted and I started stroking, smoothly and strongly, as deep as I could go and as far back as I could go. I became a fucking machine and all I wanted to do was fuck. I was near cumming, but I wouldn't let it happen yet. I clung to the hot, primal itch that I felt on the edge of letting go and I wanted to stay there. I forgot about how close Martha might or might not be to cumming; I just wanted to fuck and keep on fucking as long as I could. Her sighs and whispers were indeed those of Josephine Louise and Ronnie and everyone else I'd lusted after; her seductive crooning had implanted them clearly in my mind. I forgot about Martha's body as my universe focused exclusively onto her cunt, on her pelvic muscles straining and quivering against mine, her clinging inner woman, and she wasn't Martha, she was the primeval cunt my leering, slurping beast wanted to fuck, and my beast demanded the delicious, licking pleasure, and vaguely I heard her amazed gasp, "God, you're hard! You're so hard!" and then I heard her hoarse moan, and I felt her cumming and her hot, slithery, woman-cunt spasmed with it and my cock felt it and rejoiced and grew and plunged and I wanted to keep fucking, keep fucking like this forever. I felt her relax a little and I fucked and pushed and my bursting shaft sought more, more pleasure, more lusciousness, and soon she stiffened again and I heard her gasp "Steven!" and I wanted more and got bigger and harder and she jerked and relaxed and then came again, and then I grunted and felt my face smiling as my cock leapt upward against the roof of Martha's curling, writhing nether- mouth, and my tip pulsed and the slit grinned against her womb and the cum poured out and then gushed out and then exploded out and somewhere in my gut my happy beast grinned and said Yeah, yeah, and my tip twitched and the hot cum gushed and then I heard Martha scream a high, muffled scream, and my victorious cock slowed so that I could ruthlessly prolong and enjoy and own and remember the long moment and she screamed again and the satisfaction and the sweet release washed around my dick and through me, and then the blinding, tickling peak hit me and I ceased to exist for a long, liquid instant, and my cock throbbed, pleased, bloated with pleasure, purged, slick with her juiciness and my cum, and Martha lurched under me and ended her cum with a whimper and my whole body sighed and slowed and relaxed, my balls aching with a pleasant emptiness, and I opened my eyes and saw her face flushed, her eyes squinting, shut, and her mouth gasping for air, and then I realized that her nails had dug into my neck and it felt good, it felt exhilarating to see her completely worn out, trembling, limp, clutching me as if afraid, and I gave a long sigh of pleasure and embraced her again, and cuddled her and gave her mouth a long, firm kiss, and when it was over she gasped loudly and her head fell against me, and I pulled my cock out of her and watched it glisten and drip with us and I pushed in again and enjoyed entering her once more, and did it again and marvelled at how good it was. And then she curled into a tight ball and she was whimpering, mewing, crying like a little girl, her knees pulled up against me, and she nestled into me and broke into a long fit of quiet but wrenching cries. I stroked her back softly and held her, one hand cradling the back of her neck and pressing her tear-wet face into me, and she cried for a little while and then she began to relax, sniffling noisily at first. And then she seemed to rest but was still curled up and holding onto me and the odor of semen and warm milk was strong in the room. The curtain rustled against the window frame. She whimpered, "That was so good!" I nodded against her head. And she breathed nervously, "Steven, that was so good it scared me." And in her voice I did indeed hear the childish relief one feels when a terror has passed, and she softend against me and seemed tiny. Soon she fell asleep. I lay awake for a long time, listening to the breeze from the window. I remembered dimly hearing Martha scream. I drifted toward sleep, feeling somehow changed. I didn't know why I felt that way. ==================================== THE ADVENTURES OF ME AND MARTHA JANE by S.J.R. PART 13B: -30- -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----