Message-ID: <7342eli$9803291636@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com Subject: {SJR}"The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane 03C"( bf mF mF+ )[7/52] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Note: This message was posted by a secure email service. Please report MISUSE OR ABUSE of this automated secure email service to . 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: <6fkd92$3mc$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 3C: At the time, most of this went right past my very young level of awareness--but I clearly understood that she was troubled. I knew that I somehow had to stay with her and believe in her and help her in some way. I wanted to bring indescribable pleasure and comfort to her. She was making me feel loved and tickly now, and I wanted desperately to do the same for her. I found the folds of her skirt and tried to gather them up, but had a hard time; my hands were too small. She stepped back, not letting go of my cock, and used her free hand to lift her skirt. She spread her feet apart and looked down while I massaged her mound over her panties. "Ah, hon," she breathed. "You remembered just exactly how I like you to do that." As she had done, I slipped my hand under her waistband and found her pubic hair and her soft folds. She was not wet yet. But she moved one foot to open her legs more so I could find her crease. I whispered, "I want to make you feel good." Now I hoped I was learning to talk to her as she talked to me. I was beginning to comprehend the nature of my own very young sensuality, realizing how so much of it was mirrored by Martha Jane, and learning to try and contact those elements within her. I was not yet very certain about any of it. But now I had glimmerings of the giddy adrenal rush gen- erated by the allure of the forbidden that held us and our secret world together. And I was beginning to understand as well the para- doxical, inexplicable comfort we both experienced by giving in to, rather than resisting, our hunger. In short, I was getting older and more sexual, and I realized more than ever how complex were the emotional and physical needs that bound us. It was scary. It was a lot like rushing blind across the avenue the way I used to, traffic headed at me in all six lanes, not sure if or how I could make it safely to the other side--but knowing, from where I stood at that moment, I would not and could not run back. Martha Jane moved her head slightly, toward me. Her lips touched my ear. Her mouth opened and I heard the thin saliva break as she licked my earlobe. And then my neck. Under one hand I felt the skin on the back of her neck move and flex as she reached farther with her tongue and licked behind my ear, then down, then into my neck again. Under my other hand, she was getting wet. She pulled her head back, smiling and looking down to watch my hand working between her legs in the dark. She spread her knees apart a little more. She softly hissed, "Put your finger in me..." I found her hot opening, now growing wetter, and slowly inserted what came to me naturally--my longest finger. She urged quietly, "All the way in, hon, deep..." Her eyes closed as she sighed a trembling, breathy "Aaahh..." "Like that?" "Yes, baby." I flexed my finger in her. I never ceased to be amazed at the way the inner Martha Jane could suck on my fingers in her. "Did that feel good?" "Bend your finger again, inside...Yes...keep doing that..." We continued for a while, but it soon became uncomfortable standing up. She broke away and got undressed. Before climbing in- to bed she removed my tshirt and underwear and had me sit up against a pillow that she placed against the headboard. Then, naked in the moonlight, she lay before me on her tummy with her head in my lap and started sucking me. She sucked gently, wetly, slowly, immersing me in her very hot mouth and holding me there. Then slowly she withdrew, sucking upward, and came off me with a loud swallow of the wetness she had re-sucked off me, and sighed lasciviously. "You feel so good in my mouth. You fit all the way inside." She licked her lips and sucked me again in the same way, gently but fully, flattening her tongue along the underside and pressing slightly, then started bobbing her head slowly and rhythmically. I was amazed and hypnotized. I began to be aware of her physical beauty and the depths of the desperate lust that lurked in both of us, there in the dim shaft of light that fell across her naked back as she licked and sucked. She stopped and asked, "Do you know what I'm doing?" I just stared at her. Of course I knew what she was doing, though she had never done it so gluttonously. But I didn't know what it was called. "I'm suckin' you off. Do you like it when I say that?" Once again, her eyes had a strange glint and her voice sounded inordinately wicked. "Yes," I whispered back, suddenly realizing how breathless I was. And I was doing some hard, nervous swallowing of my own. "You know I do. Especially the way you do it." I was truly flabbergasted that there were so many ways to bring pleasure to each other. She returned to her sucking, which she continued for quite some time, breaking to gently fist my wetted cock. The cloying sensuality of her motions and words caused me to make what I know to be a seriously wicked grin as I watched her pump me. "That's good," I whispered. She looked up. "Yeah?" She grinned back. I grinned again too, into her eyes. "Yeah. Keep doin' it." "Yeah, honey." "Ah..." "Feel it, baby...enjoy it..." And once again, her eyes and her words and her voice held me mesmerized. She herself seemed hypnotized by my own spellbound reaction. We fell into unalloyed devilishness, as if demons within us had generated a chain reaction neither of us could not stop. She wouldn't let up. The lust in her eyes and her voice met mine, mine met hers, and they fused. We were glued to it, tangled it in. I kept hearing the nuns and the aunts and relatives warning me, but all their screaming voices together could not drown the tantalizing whispers of Martha Jane. And the more my eyes lit up with pleasure, the more Martha Jane saw it and gloated on it. She gave a low, dirty chuckle and breathed, "You like it. You like being like this with me." She kept looking into my eyes, directly into them, into my cornea and through the optic nerves and into my brain. As she wetly stroked my twitching cock I heard only the wet slush of her hand in the hot spit she had left on me, and her endless, libidinous whispers. "You like it just as much as I do, don't you, I can tell. I like it too. I like watching your face while I make you feel good. I love your dick. I love touching it. I love milking it, and sucking..." She pumped and then sucked and then pumped me again. I was feeling extremely strange and giddy and I knew she did too. A dark wicked wave seemed to wash into the room and lick me squarely in the scrotum under my balls, then lick upward along my spine and settle in the back of my head. I could see the reflection of these new and growing impulses in her own eyes, I could hear her voice echoing my own rising lechery. We fed it, and fed on it, helpless in the dark and the moonlight. She fisted me loosely now, looking up at me. Distinctly I felt and saw her own eyes catch the glint of lust in mine, and she leered and fisted and kept whispering. "I feel you liking it, I feel you jumpin' in my hand. Such a beautiful, hard, sweet little cock. It gets so big. How does it get so big from being so little?" "I like you making it big," I managed to whisper back, but only after fighting for the breath to say it. I took a deep breath and gasped brazenly, "I like watching you watch me." Her eyes rose, surprised and please that I was joining her in this hypnotic whirl. "I'm so glad you like this. Want me to suck you some more?" "Yes, it feels so good." "I want to suck you and I want you to fingerfuck me, like last time." Uh-oh! A new term in the ever-expanding lexicon. I was taken by surprise. Another Martha Jane word. At that point I somehow knew there would be an explanation forthcoming. Contented, and learning for the first time what the word "turn-on" would later come to mean, I let her suck me and we continued our lurid whispers and glances. Of course, I did not cum. This was fortunate, in a way, since literally I didn't know what I was missing. But at one point a pang of sensual tickling shot through the length of my shaft, and I felt an oozing from me that mixed with her spit and slickened it. I wondered if that meant I was cumming. But the feeling passed too quickly for me to stop and ask questions about it. For Martha Jane had risen to a half-sitting position beside me, her head against the headboard. Her left leg lay on the mattress between us, bent at the knee toward me so her inner thigh was spread to expose her slit; and she bent her right knee upward, keeping her foot on the bed, using her heel to spread her right leg wide and exposing even more of her nakedness. She shoved her hips forward so that I, lying beside her, could fully see her auburn tuft and the widening, smooth-lipped slit below. With one hand she spread the silken hair that partly covered her, and wantonly instructed me on how to touch her clit and how to insert my finger and how to search far up inside her and find a magic bundle of muscle and nerve that made her arch her hips and sigh lustily and made her nipples swell in my mouth, and she looked down, leering and watching me please her and holding herself open for me, telling me this was her cunt, and she said that when she felt really nasty as she did now that she wanted me to call it her cunt, and as I pulled her clit and stroked the tender place far inside her wetness, her words and her voice and her sighs slid into a barely audible stream of hissed obscenities. And I remembered doing this to her before and making her cum, but now I knew she wanted me to call it fingerfucking and that she liked the word and so did I, and she liked me watching her on her side with one leg bent between us and the other with one knee raised and resting spread away from her so that she could use the leverage of that leg to raise her cunt toward me and we could watch me fingerfuck her, and she liked watching while I did it, and her raised knee soon fell and she dropped back into the pillows and spread herself flat and gave herself over to the long cum that seemed to be on its way, and for a long while she simply lay and enjoy it and sucked on my finger in her. And finally I gave her the smashing, paralyzing orgasm she wanted, her head pressed far into the pillow and her neck straining, her arms and legs stiffened against the white sheets and her nipples jutting upward as she threw her head back and suffered silently the sweet agony I was giving her, taut and stiff for what seemed to me a perilously long time. Her hips gave a slight jerk, and I expected her to slide into her swooning relaxed state, but instead her head snapped farther back into the pillow and her teeth showed in the dark and she whimpered "Oh!" in sudden surprise, and then "Ah!" and she came again, again, again as I moved my fingers in the way I knew was just right for her, never for a moment wanting to lose my way in giving her pleasure, caring for her, protecting her in her utter nakedness, striving to make it perfect and right for her. And finally, with a great sigh and a whimper that I know could be heard out in the dark street beyond our window, she relaxed with a final lurch of her hips, and began breathing in waves, then breathing regularly and deeply, and she made the same sounds she made when she cried, but now they were sounds of exhaustion and release. I licked her nipple, my soaked hands now lightly massaging her outer lips and inner thighs, and she put a hand on my arm and cried, "so good!", and on reaching down to touch my cock she found wetness there, a smear from inside me, and she opened her eyes and looked at me and then looked at my cock and reached down and kissed the tip, moaning "oh your cum, your sweet cum!" She licked it off me and it tickled terribly and I felt deep in my balls the oozing of another smear, which she milked out of me with a long slow pull upward on my dick, and she licked that off too with tender relish, as if even the smallest beginnings of my cumming were as precious as water to a parched throat. And then, out of breath and with a final gasp, she literally fell into me and hugged me and held on and went straight to sleep. We slept like that for a while, with her splayed over me as if knocked unconscious. She awoke with a start and looked at the clock. "Darn!" she whispered frantically, "they'll be coming home!" Quickly she dressed. As she did, she caught me smiling at her from my pillow and she told me, "Speedy, you are remarkable. My god, I wish I could tell someone about this. They'd never believe me..." She looked at me as if she were in shock. "How do you do this to me? Where did you learn to do this?" "Do what?" I asked, truly puzzled. "You know what I'm talkin' about," she scolded midly, hopping a little to get her shoes on. She sat on the floor and tied her laces. "You made cum in my mouth, too, didn't you?" "I...think so." "Listen," she said earnestly, finishing her shoes and getting up to bend over me. "I want you to grow up and cum. I can't keep doing this all by myself. Do you have any idea what you just did to me?" She gathered up the wads of kleenex and started straight- ening the place quickly, mumbling, "I didn't even know anything like this was possible. Where in the world did you learn how to do it like that?" "You taught me," I said. She caught herself, pausing as if startled, and went back to her hurried straightening. "I'm just talking, hon. You go to sleep. Your Mama will be home soon." She returned to the living room and her books. The light in there snapped on. I rolled over and looked out the window. I did not understand the significance of this nor the problems it would cause later. But I had experienced an unusually intense level of eroticism which I feared and yet didn't fear, something apparently as new and exotic to her as it was to me. ==================================== THE ADVENTURES OF ME AND MARTHA JANE by S.J.R. sjr <73233.1411@CompuServe.COM> ============ PART 3C -30- -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |