Message-ID: <23475asstr$954817807@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: Richard Bissell X-Original-Message-ID: <8cb2ta$v3q$1@nnrp1.deja.com> X-Article-Creation-Date: Mon Apr 03 21:36:44 2000 GMT Subject: {ASSM} Full Custody {RBissell}(Mf, teen)(2/2) Date: Mon, 3 Apr 2000 23:10:07 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: IceAltar, Lambchop Full Custody by Richard Bissell, Part 2 * * * She returned the next day just after lunch. I let her in, and she sat on the couch. I sat beside her and began slowly. "I've been doing my best to think about what you want. You know that what you're asking me to do is more than a little bizarre." She nodded. "I just need to ask you some things," I went on, "for my own peace of mind." "Okay." "You've never told me just how old you are." Her lips pursed for a few seconds. "I'm fifteen. But I'll be sixteen in October." I sighed. "Have you done this before?" She shook her head. "For your first time, is this really what you want?" She shrugged. "Okay. I'm not going to try to convince you that this might be wrong, because I know you've thought all that through already. I just want you to look at this from my perspective for a second. I'm not going to fool myself into thinking you find me particularly attractive." She looked up at me suddenly. "It's not that." "Christy, would you want to do this if the pregnancy weren't an issue?" She stared at me, saying nothing for a few seconds. "I might," she said a very small voice. I struggled to hide my disbelief, and I had to turn away from her. I didn't look back until I realized she was crying quietly beside me. She sat there with head down, sniffling, letting the tears drip into her lap. I put my arm around her, and she leaned against me. I held her for a few minutes until she stopped crying. "I'm not saying I don't sympathize with your wanting to go back and live with your dad. I just think there has to be a better way to do this." "What else can I do? Get arrested? Start taking drugs? I wouldn't even know where to buy drugs here." She took a ragged breath. "And even if I tried that, my dad might not want me to live with him anymore, if I got busted somehow. Plus I would get a record. This way, no one has to know but my folks and the judge." I felt my resolve weakening bit by bit as she lay there in my arms. I struggled to retain some moral focus, which was now slipping rapidly through my fingers like quicksilver. "If we did this," I said slowly, "what would you tell your father? About how it happened?" "I wouldn't tell them anything about you. I promise. I would just tell him it was a hook-up, that I didn't know the guy and don't know where he is." And that would only help her cause, I thought, since her father would interpret it to mean that her mother was paying so little attention to Christy that she could go out and have sex with some random guy without her knowing about it. She nuzzled her face against my neck. "Ian, please." I pulled back a little and looked down at her face. I wiped the tears from her cheeks and pushed the hair off her forehead. She stared up at me, her blue eyes deep and damp. "Christy . . . baby . . . are you sure this is what you want? Really, really sure? Once it happens, we can't undo it." She nodded. I caressed her cheek again. "If we do this, I don't want it to be something mechanical, just to get you pregnant." "What do you mean?" "I mean, I want you to let me make love to you. Not just knock you up. I think you owe that to yourself. And I think it's the only way I could do it and still live with myself afterward." Her face colored, and her breathing accelerated. "Okay." She looked down, then back up again. "Now?" she asked quietly. My heart skipped a beat. Oh my God, we were really going to do this. "Whenever you're ready. It doesn't have to be now." I waited for her to respond, and I watched her jaw vibrating, watched her chewing nervously on her lips. She pressed her forehead against my face. When she finally spoke, it was so soft that I almost didn't hear her. "Now." "Are you sure?" She nodded slowly. I still had my arms around her, and it took only a slight shift to get one arm under her legs. As I did it, she wrapped her arms around my neck. I picked her up and carried her upstairs. I had, thank God, gone through one of my rare clean-up phases a few days before, which meant my bedroom was not currently a biohazard. I laid Christy down on the bed and lay beside her. She turned on her side facing me, and I caressed her cheek. "You're a very beautiful girl." She broke my gaze briefly, then looked up again. "Thanks." "Can we forget why we're doing this and just try to enjoy it?" She nodded. I moved closer to her and kissed her softly. She lay still beside me as she opened her mouth, moving her tongue against mine. I put my hand on her waist. We kissed gently for a few minutes, and if she was passive about it, she at least seemed to be relaxing the longer it went on. I stroked her side gently as I kissed her, and when she seemed ready, I moved slowly around in front to feel her breasts. Her breathing grew more rapid as I caressed her, and I could soon feel her nipple through the fabric of her T-shirt. I rubbed my thumb against it gently. Her hands were knotted in my shirt by now, twisting slowly. Her leg came up against mine, moving over it. I pulled her closer, and she responded by kissing me with more vigor. I reached around behind her, going under her shirt, and finding the catch in her bra. She didn't react when I opened it, but as I brought my hand back around, and took her right breast in my hand, her breath caught once or twice, and she briefly stopped kissing me. "All right?" I asked. She nodded. "That feels nice." I stroked her as gently as I could, caressing one breast, then the other, moving my fingers back over the nipples. She was a long way from being a handful, but there was certainly enough of her to play with. We resumed kissing, and I continued fondling her. After a few minutes of this, I removed my hand from her shirt and helped her out of it. She sat up as I pulled it off, then lay on her back looking up at me. I pulled my shirt over my head and returned to her side. She stared into my eyes and squeezed my hand. I bent down to kiss her again, though this time, I kissed all over her face and her neck, then down her chest. She gasped softly when I first took her breast in my mouth, and her hands went around my neck. I suckled her little nipples, working them back and forth with my tongue until they were red and swollen and standing out like pebbles on her chest. She rolled on her side again toward me when I withdrew, reaching out to feel me. I let her look at me, exploring my chest slowly. "Why do guys have nipples?" she asked suddenly. I laughed. "I don't know." "They don't do anything?" "No." She sat up beside me, and then she was leaning over to suck on my nipples as I had been doing to her. She stopped after a few seconds and looked up at me. "Does that feel good?" "Yeah." She went back to work, and I held her as she tried to mimic what I had done to her. I let her do it for a little while, then pulled her up to kiss her some more. I rolled her on her back and reached down slowly for her jeans. "Still sure about this?" She nodded, and I unbuttoned the waistband. She squirmed around, helping me get them off. Underneath, she wore simple white cotton panties. I looked down at her for a few moments, caressing her chest and thighs. She was certainly slim, but she had enough on her that she didn't seem skinny. She watched as I slipped out of my jeans but did nothing. I lay back beside her and resumed kissing and fondling her. She tried to mimic what I did to her, as best she could. When I finally hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties, she simply rolled over a bit to help me get them off. Then, at last, she was nude beside me. Her sex was crowned with a sparse fringe of pale blonde hair, the same shade as the hair on her head. I caressed her slowly as I looked down at her, and tried to smooth the nervous look off her face. "I know I'm not much," she said as I ran my fingers through her hair. "Christy, you're beautiful. I mean that." "But my boobs are so small." "They're perfect. Trust me." She looked down at herself. "Really?" "Yes." She smiled, and I kissed her again. She pulled me closer to her, I ran my hand down her back, cupping her smooth buttocks. I caressed her like that for a few seconds before moving slowly around in front. Her breath caught again when I felt the first strands of her pubic hair, but she did nothing to stop me. I took her heated sex into my hand gently, and she gasped as I drew my fingers lightly over her. I caressed her like that for a minute or two, nothing but very light contact with my fingertips. Her breath grew deep and ragged against my neck, and her hands were now tightly clenched on my shoulders. On one downward stroke, I felt a squirt of inner moisture emerging from her, and I used it to moisten my fingers as I played with her. I wasn't necessarily trying to bring her orgasm; I was just trying to pleasure her and make her feel good, and make sure she was as ready as possible for what we were about to do. It seemed to be working. The hand on my left shoulder moved down my body, finally reaching the waistband of my boxers. Christy pulled on them gently, and I got the message. I withdrew from her and slipped my boxers off. My erection popped free, and Christy stared down at it. She reached for it gingerly. "It won't bite," I said, and she giggled nervously. Then she looked up at me. "Is this going to hurt?" "It might. But just a little." At that moment, I reflexively thought about the condoms in my nightstand, then remembered instantly that I didn't need one. That, of course, reminded me of why we were really here, and I had to pause a moment to regain my resolve. "What do I do?" she asked. "Whatever makes you feel good. There's less to it than you might think." She rolled slowly on her back, and I moved above her. She spread her legs as I moved in, resting her hands on my waist. I probed forward, feeling the head of my cock slipping between her labia. She tensed up underneath me immediately. I moved forward slowly, waiting for some resistance, but there was nothing. Christy gasped as I filled her, arching her back a little. She was quite tight, but also wet enough that the passage was eased significantly, and I was soon inside her completely. I kissed her again. "Are you okay?" She hugged me closely. "Mmm." Taking that for a yes, I began to move within her. She lay perfectly still under me, eyes closed, breathing raggedly. Her hands remained on my waist, opening and closing slowly, as I thrust into her. I didn't know if I could bring her to orgasm and didn't really expect to, but I tried to take my time and do what she seemed to enjoy. She held me close, twitching now and then, kissing my neck softly. I began to lose my grip on what I was doing, lose myself in Christy's body. She was warm and wet around me, and I felt myself growing close to climax. I remembered again what she wanted me to do to her, but this time, lost in the primal act of mating, the thought of it aroused me further. I was in her, unprotected and unrestrained, just outside a virgin womb that awaited my seed. I gasped, driving harder into her, and she let out a squeak, arching her back. Her hands dug into my waist. She seemed to sense what was coming and pulled me closer. "Oh, God." I grunted, gasping for breath, closing in on my now inevitable climax. Christy tensed up, under me and around me, holding me tight. Then I was there, shuddering in orgasm, the sweet agony spinning around the base of my cock, and a moment later my semen was erupting out of me, filling her up, splashing wetly inside her. I shook above her, driving the last bits of myself into her, holding myself against her body until the last shreds of my climax had passed. Then, slowly, I lowered myself onto her, realizing that all my prior concerns about impregnating her were now probably moot. I rolled off of her as soon as I was able and tried to catch my breath. Christy lay still where I had left her, as the scent of our sex filled the air of my bedroom. * * * When I looked over at her, she was staring at the ceiling, not having moved a muscle. "Are you all right?" She looked over to me, forcing a smile onto her face. "I'm okay. Thanks. That was nice." "It was." "What should I do now? To help, I mean." "Stay where you are, I guess." She sat up a little, looking down. "It's all running out." "That's what happens. It doesn't really make any difference. Some of it is still in there." "Oh." "Was it all right for you? Didn't hurt?" "No. It was nice. And it didn't hurt at all. I think I must have lost it some time before." "It happens." She smiled again, a little more genuinely this time. "Was I okay?" she asked. "Yes. You were great." * * * For a while, we did little beyond lounge in post-coital languor, idly snuggling or caressing each other. I wasn't sure how much Christy had enjoyed it, but she seemed much more relaxed now. Eventually I wound up on my back with Christy lying across my chest, one hand supporting her head and the other playing with my chest hair. "Ian?" "Hmm?" "Do you think we should do it again?" "Should?" She looked up at me. "To make sure . . . you know." "We can if you want." Her eyes darted around for a moment. "I guess so." I laughed softly and ran my fingers through her hair. "Christy, if there's something you want to do, you should just ask for it. Don't be so shy about it." "I'm sorry." "Do you want to do it again?" "I--" She caught herself, smiling. "Yeah." I pulled her down to me and kissed her. She giggled a little as I did, but squirmed into my arms. We caressed each other more deliberately now, and more used to this perhaps, Christy was more active than she had been before. Again, I began by kissing and caressing her neck and chest, then her breasts, but this time I continued moving downward once I had both nipples erect and swollen. Christy tensed up as she realized what I meant to do, but didn't stop me. Her sex was damp and sticky, with the faint odor of semen about it. I opened her with my thumbs, moving her little fringe of blonde hair to the sides and exposing her inner lips. She gasped softly at the first contact, breathing heavily as I began to lick her. I kept my attentions soft and gentle at first, giving her time to adjust to the experience. She reached down for my hands, holding them tightly, but otherwise remained still. Her clitoris swelled and rose to meet my tongue as she grew more aroused. Soon her breath was catching in her throat, and little twitches were shooting through her abdomen. Her thighs began to shake around my head. She let out a little whimper, arching her back and lifting herself up at me. I released all the brakes at this point, licking her for all I was worth. She cried out now, hands clamping onto mine, as a long shudder ran through her body. She remained frozen in tense ecstasy for nearly ten seconds before slowly beginning to relax. I gave her sex a final kiss and crawled up beside her. She rolled into my arms and snuggled with me. "Wow," she said softly. I kissed her forehead, brushing her hair away from her face. I felt her reaching down for my erection and taking it in her hand. "Do you want me to do that for you?" "Only if you want to." "I don't know how." "It's all right. We don't have to." She pulled me toward her, on top of her, and I slid between her legs. As wet and ready as she was, a single thrust had me completely inside her. She hugged me tightly as I began to move within her. I was a long way from orgasm, and this time I concentrated on helping her enjoy it, and on enjoying being with her. A few minutes into it, I rolled over and let her get on top. She moved against me awkwardly, trying to find an angle she liked. I sat up, kissing and suckling her breasts as she rode me. Her hands were soon clawing at my shoulders, pushing me down and grinding herself against me. Then her hips began to shake, she let out a little cry, and I felt the pulse of her orgasm around me. As it peaked, she threw herself forward, covering my face with her hair. She lay still like that for a few moments, catching her breath, before giggling. "What?" I asked. "This is fun." "Mm-hmm." She lifted up a little and planted a kiss on me lips. "What do you want me to do?" she asked. "Roll over." She fell to her side, lying on her back, and I moved on top of her again. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I thrust into her. I had gotten quite turned on watching her riding me, and it took only a minute or two to reach orgasm again, spurting off deeply inside her. * * * "Ian?" Christy nudged me awake, and I realized I had dozed off. "What, baby?" "I was thinking. We probably need to keep doing it, right? Like the rest of this week or something. We don't know that just this once was enough." She lay beside me on the pillow, and I stared into her blue eyes. Something in the diffident expression on her face told me she wasn't just thinking about getting pregnant anymore. "We can do whatever you want." She glanced away from me. "We should, then." "Okay." She smiled. "Thanks." * * * I made her dinner again, and she went home around eight. She was back the next day at lunchtime, and we made love for most of that afternoon. Thereafter, she spent most of her time at my apartment, showing up in the morning and staying until just before her mother returned from work. She would watch television, sit in my office reading as I worked, or nap on my bed. On the third day, she began a clean-up campaign, and commenced trying straighten up my place as best she could. And yes, we continued to sleep together, generally once in the morning right after she arrived, and once in the afternoon before dinner. But we did not discuss the pregnancy issue, at all. She had simply morphed into my girlfriend, and that was how she acted. It was never far from my mind, though. I felt guilty about it except when we were making love, and only then did I let myself wallow in the thought that I was impregnating her. This went on for about two weeks, and though I wondered sometimes if her mother had some suspicions, nothing untoward occurred. Christy was either a good actress, or her mother was just being willfully ignorant. * * * I was back in front of my computer, working on an article I had to get done in a few days when Christy came up behind me and put her arms around my chest. She wore nothing but one of my old ASU sweatshirts, as we had just gotten out of bed. She rested her chin on my shoulder to see what I was doing. "What are you writing?" "A piece for GQ. I told them I'd get it in to them by Monday." She was quiet a moment. "Ian?" "Hmm?" "Do you think you could . . . go get me one of those tests?" I stopped typing and took a deep breath. Then I forced myself to turn around. "Is it time?" "I've been counting. My period was probably due a few days ago." "And nothing?" "No." I stroked her cheek, running my hand through her hair. "Okay. Let me get dressed." Christy stayed there while I drove to the drugstore. My heart was pounding in my chest by the time I got the pregnancy test to the register. I couldn't sift through the welter of emotions to pin down what exactly I was nervous about--her being pregnant, or her _not_ being pregnant. Both eventualities had serious consequences. I found Christy where I had left her, sitting on the end of my bed. She looked up as I came in. I handed the little box to her. "Will you do it with me?" she asked. "Absolutely." We went into the bathroom, and I opened the box to read the directions. Christy sat on the toilet. I sat on the edge of the bathtub beside her. When I figured out what we needed to do, I handed her one of the two plastic sticks I found in the box. "You need to pee on that." She regarded it gingerly. "On it?" "Just hold it over the bowl." She positioned herself and stuck the stick between her legs. It took her a few seconds to get things going, but when she did, the stick went positive almost instantly. She was almost panting with nervousness by this point. "Give me the other one." I did. It was also positive. I didn't know what to say, or what to do. Christy was shaking and gasping for breath by now, and I finally got up, took her in my arms, and carried her back to the bed. She shook and cried for nearly five minutes, and I simply held her tightly. Even though we had planned for exactly this, it didn't seem as if acting happy would be a good idea. When she began to calm down, I pulled back a little and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Are you okay?" She sniffed. "I'm pregnant." "That was what you wanted, right?" She nodded. "But now," she gasped, "now it means I have to leave. It means I'll never see you again." The sobs began to wrack her body again, and all I could do was hug her. I hadn't thought of that, but she was right. And it hurt. * * * There wasn't really much more to say at that point. We both knew what was going to happen now. As much as she cried about it, Christy still wanted to go back to live with her father. We talked vaguely about trying to stay in touch, even though it would be ridiculous and dangerous to try. She continued coming over to my apartment, and continued sleeping with me, up until the day she left for Texas. I gave her my address and phone number with instructions to call or write whenever she needed to, regardless of what the other circumstances might be. Her mother still had no clue what was going on, though Christy told me she had remarked on her daughter's sullen and withdrawn mood. She finally left for Texas the first week of August. * * * I never saw her again after that, but that was not the last time I heard from her. She wrote me only twice. The first time was in mid-August, about two weeks after she left. She had told her father about her pregnancy, and just as she had planned, he had gone straight to court for a review of the custody arrangement. I watched the mail for weeks afterward, hoping for further news, but there was nothing. After she had been gone two months, it became fairly obvious that her plan had succeeded. I tried to be happy for her, even though I knew it meant we would likely never see each other again. And I tried not to think about the abortion that she had surely had by now. I was a little sad not to hear anything else, but I told myself that she was only fifteen, and with the resilience of youth, she was most likely trying to put the whole summer behind her and get on with her old life. I wished her well, as much as I could. I would not forgot about her, but the pain and stress of the experience largely faded by the next spring. * * * And then, in early June, I got another letter. I recognized the loopy, girlish script of her handwriting immediately when I pulled my mail out of the box in the wall. I tore open the letter as I walked back to my apartment past the pool area. A picture fell out. I knew what it was as soon as I saw it, but it still took a few moments to really register. She had changed somewhat since the previous summer, and I struggled briefly with the thought that it could not possibly be her. But was. It was a shot of Christy, lying in a hospital bed, with a newborn baby in her arms. At that point, I lost my balance, and I had to sit down on one of the sunbeds, not far from the spot where we had first met nearly a year before. Only then could I attempt to read the letter. This was what it said: Dear Ian: I know you're probably in shock right now. You should have seen the picture before you read any of this. You can see things didn't turn out quite the way I said they would. Basically, I didn't get an abortion. I was going to, even though I could tell my dad was kind of sad about it. He took me to the clinic, and they got all ready to do it, but as I was sitting there waiting, I changed my mind. I realized that I had created this baby to get what I wanted, to be able to come back home and live with my dad, and now I was going to kill it because I didn't need it any more. And that suddenly felt like the most awful and selfish thing in the world to be doing. I won't try to tell you that the next few months were easy. If anyone ever tries to tell you that being pregnant is a piece of cake, don't believe them. My folks got kind of harsh about it, especially my mom, and some of my friends ditched me. And I had to miss some school in May when I gave birth. But they're letting me make it up this summer, so it's not so bad. In case you're wondering, I'm not keeping the baby. I know I just can't be a mom right now. I went to an adoption agency in February, and they helped me pick out a wonderful couple named Phil and Angela who couldn't have kids. They're adopting the baby, and they took it home from the hospital that day. I guess I should stop calling it "it." We have a baby girl, Ian. They're calling her Elizabeth, and she's the most beautiful thing in the world. She has blonde hair and blue eyes like me, but I can see a little of you in her too. I'm going to try to stay in touch with Phil and Angela, because they want her to know about me as she grows up. I haven't told them about you, but if you ever want me to, I will. I know I should have told you about this a long time ago. I started about a hundred letters in my head to tell you what had happened, but I couldn't do it. I guess I was scared you would think I had chickened out. And I knew you didn't get into this to be a dad. I hope you don't hate me. I still wonder all the time if I made the right decision to start all this, but I know it was my idea, so I don't blame you. I still think about you. I hope you still think about me. You probably shouldn't write me back, because I don't want my dad to see your letter. He still doesn't know anything about you, and from the way he reacted when he found out I was pregnant last summer, I don't think he should. I'm coming out to visit my mom in July, so maybe we could get together then, though I hope you understand that things have to be different than they were, if you know what I mean. So that's about it. I hope you're doing okay. I've been watching for your articles, and I saw the one in GQ. I saved it to give to Elizabeth when she gets old enough. I need to go to sleep `cause I have school tomorrow. I hope I can see you in July. Love always, Christy * * * Christy's mother moved out of the complex at the end of June, and whether out of embarrassment or a lack of opportunity, Christy did not come around to see me in July. I wasn't sure it was a great idea anyway, since I wanted her to get on with her life. I try not to think about my daughter out there, wherever she is, however much I'm glad that Christy didn't get an abortion. Maybe some day Elizabeth will hunt me down wanting to meet, and I hope then that I have a better explanation for my behavior toward her mother than I could manage now. I no longer think about much of the rest of it, about whether agreeing to Christy's crazy scheme was a good idea. Doing so just strikes me as a waste of energy. Some day I'll probably write a story about it. Until then, I stay behind my desk, plunking away at the keyboard, and I try to keep the blinds on my window closed. Most of the time, anyway. * * * THE END -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+