Message-ID: <41855asstr$1050304209@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "storyace" <storyace@hotmail.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} Saving Jessica; M/FF, MF, MF [rom ending] by Ace
Date: Mon, 14 Apr 2003 03:10:09 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


A note about the story;

I've been very upset lately about reports of pedophilia and child
abuse.

Then I see stories on assm glorifying these activities.  The same
newsgroup where I post my stories.

Well, I suppose everyone has the right to free speech; but
personally, I'd like to execute any person that rapes a child.

So here's my free speech:


Saving Jessica; M/FF, MF, MF by Ace

Being famous wasn't very good for me.

I guess I just wasn't ready for it, it wasn't something I ever
expected.  It was just a consequence of what happened.

I was just an ordinary guy, living an ordinary life.  I was 30
years old, I had a girlfriend and a job.  We lived in a nice
house in suburbia that I'd inherited.

But then it happened; suddenly I was a national hero.  Everyone
wanted a part of me, and it went to my head.  Like I said, I'm
just an ordinary guy; I didn't set out to be a hero.  I wasn't
prepared for it.

Women would throw themselves at me. At first, I couldn't resist.

They flew me to L.A. to do Larry King, and put me up in an
amazing hotel downtown.  Shit, I was a firefighter; I didn't stay
in places like that.

Anyway, we did the show.  I was pretty happy with myself that I
didn't choke or anything.  Larry is used to interviewing ordinary
people, and he helped me a lot.

So the next day I'm walking through the lobby, and this Japanese
woman comes up to me.  I thought she was about 14 at first, since
she was so small and cute; the top of her head only reached my
chin.

"You Richard?  You on Rarry King?"

I almost laughed aloud at the "Rarry".  It was such a stereotype;
but she really did talk like that.

"Yes, that's right," I said, pleased.

Another Japanese woman walked up to us, and they started chirping
together excitedly.

I just stood and looked at them as they talked.  They were
gorgeous; they both had thick jet black hair, perfect
complexions, and wonderful dark exotic eyes.

The first one was as slight as a teenager, the second one
slightly more curvaceous.  They were expensively dressed, as was
everyone was in that hotel except myself.  And they were so
young, barely 20, I figured.

"You like sushi?"  The heavier one, whose name turned out to be
Chisato, asked.

"I don't know, I've never tried it."  I told her.

"All Americans like sushi."  She laughed, "You come, we go to
sushi bar."

She had a sweet voice; so soft, like the rest of her.

We went down the street to a sushi place.  I was scared when I
went in; lunch for three in that place would cost me a week's
wages.  I needn't have worried, my new friends picked up the
check.

They wanted me to tell them the story.  Everyone always wants me
to tell them the story.

"It was late, and I was standing on my porch drinking a beer."

Chisato dipped a piece of sushi in soy sauce and put it in my
mouth.

"Dark?"

"Yes, it was dark.  And very quiet.  I could see the girl from
across the street, Jessica, coming home."

Yuni, the other girl, put another piece of food in my mouth; her
fingers hesitated there, and she giggled as my lips closed over
them for a moment.

"You knew her?"  Yuni asked.

"I knew her as my neighbor.  I didn't know her well, though."

The attention of the foreign women was intoxicating; they were
lovely, rich, flirtatious, and clearly fascinated by me.

"There was a shadow from a tree,"  I continued, looking from one
clear attentive face to the other, "And I saw her walk in, but
then I didn't see her walk out."

Chisato was wearing a lovely pink blouse, and I couldn't help but
glance into the valley between her breasts.  I didn't think I was
going to end up in bed with them both; I had a girlfriend at
home, I was just enjoying a little bit of flirting, being
hospitable to some pretty young tourists.

Yuni fed me another piece of sushi, her fingers lingering longer
at my lips this time.  She was very excited, and very exciting. I
looked at Chisato, and she had a grin on her face that wouldn't
go away.  I wondered what two wealthy young Japanese ladies did
for fun in L.A..

"I started to walk over there,"  I continued, my mind wandering
away from my story. "I thought I saw a struggle, but I couldn't
be sure."

They both wore mini-skirts. Yuni had lovely hand tooled high
heeled boots, and Chisato wore open shoes. Lord, but she had cute
little feet. Yuni was in net stockings, too.

"And then?" Yuni prompted me, her big eyed stare sexier than her
outfit or even her lean little body.

"I could only see a shadow, but I saw someone move from the
sidewalk to behind a van. It wasn't quite right; not like a
person normally walks. I heard the van door open and close."

My gorgeous audience were on the edges of their seats; I knew
that they were thrilled with me, with what I'd done, and my fame.
They were looking for some fun abroad, and I was it.

"I wasn't sure what I'd seen, so I kept walking towards the van.
But before I got to it, the engine started and it drove away."

Chisato gripped my wrist, waiting for more. I decided I wanted
more too.

"Let's go back to the hotel," I suggested.

I'd never been much of a lady's man; I was always too unsure of
myself, shy with women and afraid of rejection. I'm not bad
looking, and I've always been in good condition, but I've never
been very good at socializing, and to be honest I'm generally a
bit of a slob. I was definitely never a babe magnet before it
happened.

I was really pleased with myself, therefore, at having the guts
to ask them up to my room. I was even more pleased when they
accepted, with little more than  giggles and  smiles.

What man could refuse two girls at once? What lonely man, far
from home, wouldn't succumb to the temptation? Two foreign exotic
beauties, each one a prize catch by herself. There would be no
comebacks, no complications.

I put an arm around each in the elevator. Chisato leaned against
me as Yuni's little hand stroked my arm.

I realized they were basically groupies; they were thrilled with
my celebrity. They didn't know I was just an ordinary guy who
happened, by luck, to be there when something happened. They
didn't want to know. They wanted to do it with a famous American
while they were here, that was all.

Well, the famous American was all for it.

As soon as we were in my room, I took voluptuous little Chisato
in my arms and kissed her; she was shivering, as if she were
cold, but she wasn't. I reached out an arm to her friend, and
held them both at once, their little mouths eager to know my big
alien one, their little hands eager to touch my body.

They began to pull at my clothes, stripping me like a pair of
piranhas in an old James Bond movie. I sat on the bed, the
assault of kisses and caresses not letting up for a moment; I
felt a wonderful hot wetness on my cock, and had to watch as Yuni
sucked my dick.

It looked so big in her thin face; almost obscene.  It occurred
to me that to an American, at least, she looked like an underage
girl; and that I found her very desirable. That troubled me a
little.

Chisato, with her full breasts, was less controversial to me, and
I kissed her and held her tight as her friend drove me nuts with
her blowjob.

I put a hand behind Yuni's head, tickling her ear with my thumb.
Her small painted lips wrapped firmly around my dick, her big
dark eager eyes staring up at me; "I'm going to come."  I told
her.

She had a quick conversation with her friend, then Chisato took
over at my cock while Yuni undressed.

"Chisato likes."  Yuni informed me as she stripped.

Liquid fire erupted from my cock, into the face of my Oriental
princess.  Yuni lay down beside me and began to stroke and kiss
me gently before my orgasm had even subsided.

She was unspeakably pretty; her little breasts so firm and small,
almost like, like Jessica's. But Yuni was an adult. It was
allowed to desire her, to hold her, kiss her, suck her nipples,
caress her body in a sensual overload. It was allowed and legal
to penetrate her willing, eager little body, and fuck her until
she came.

I'd never known this was possible; to have sex immediately after
coming.  But these two women were unlike anything I'd ever
experienced before.  The whole situation was unspeakably sexy; my
body was in overdrive, the primal area of my brain had kicked in,
releasing some kind of extra energy.  Such an opportunity might
never occur again.  I needed to satisfy these women, both of
them.  If I could do that, what came afterwards wouldn't matter.
I was going to make love with these two beautiful little Japanese
tourists, I was going to screw them both into oblivion.

Chisato had a slightly fat ass, at least compared to her friend.
But she was wild to feel me on her, to have me in her. I was a
hero for real; I made two women come.

Sex like that doesn't happen often; Chisato, Yuni, Chisato again,
Yuni again. Sucking, kissing, resting, kissing, penetrating,
sweating and coming again.

Their perfect hair curled and frayed in the heat and humidity of
our passion, they surrendered to my big American power, leaving
their cool Japanese shells. I envied them; they each came three
times, I think.  They were so sweet, so special.

I never saw them again.  I sometimes wonder how they are.


I had the room for a week, courtesy of the television network.  A
German film crew wanted to interview me.  I was global.

"But why did you follow the van instead of calling the police?"
the journalist asked me.

She was a Teutonic beauty; tall and blond, with ample breasts.
She had big beautiful blue eyes, and was groomed to perfection,
as a TV journalist should be.

Her hair was straight and thick to her shoulders, and her skin
was clear and healthy, despite her age.  She was at least 10
years older than me, perhaps even 40 years old.

"When the van drove off, I happened to be standing next to my
car, and I had my keys in my pocket.  My house was 100 yards away
or more, and I was afraid they would get away.  I just acted on
impulse; I got in my car and followed."

"It's true that you drove with no lights?"

"Yes, that's right.  Otherwise, he would know he was being
followed.  Would you like to join me for lunch?"

Once more, I was thrilled with my own audacity; I would've never
dared ask a high-class gorgeous female like Ingrid to lunch
before it happened.  I realized that my afternoon with Chisato
and Yuni had also done something for my confidence.

I was accepted now, and no longer very afraid of rejection.  So
what if she said no?  It hadn't cost anything to ask.

"That would be nice."  Ingrid laughed, and dismissed her soundman
and cameraman.

She was dressed in one of those power suits that women wear on
TV.  It was powder blue with padded shoulders, yet it didn't hide
her slim hips.  Her lipstick was a cool pink, and matched her
fingernails. She wore a matching pink scrunchy elastic in her
hair.

I asked her about her own life over lunch; everyone already knew
about mine.  I found her thrilling; she had been so many places,
seen so many things.  We chatted easily in the hotel restaurant,
Ingrid's ice slowly breaking.

"Would you like to come to my room?"  I asked her after a few
hours.  Hell, I'd probably never see her again.  Better justask.

She hesitated for a moment, looking at me. "All right."  She
said.

I'd spent the night with Chisato and Yuni, and they'd left for
New York  that morning, but not before we'd had one last round of
fun.  I couldn't believe that only six hours later, I was
successfully seducing a woman like Ingrid.

She was tall, almost as tall as I am.  Her big strong body and
flaxen hair contrasted so wonderfully with my little Japanese
lovers.  The lines in the corners of her eyes and mouth gave her
character somehow, without taking much away from her good looks.
A woman who is still beautiful as she heads into middle age is
impressive; a woman as beautiful as Ingrid is very impressive.

Her long body was toned by many a workout; her legs were
muscular, her ass lean.

She was cool and relaxed compared to the young Japanese girls.
Ingrid stretched herself across my hotel room bed, her breasts
bulging upward in her white blouse; she was in no hurry.

I bent over her, kissing her.  I ran my hand down the side of her
face, around her breast, and over her hip.  Her hands went under
my shirt, slowly rolling it up over my head.

She threw me over onto my back, and kissed my nipples before
undressing herself.

Everything about her was so European, so stylish.  Her bra was
lacy and white, and matched her panties.  Her shoes were
high-heeled, yet sensible.  She rolled her stockings down with
care, and draped them over the back of a chair.  Her slow
graceful movements mesmerized me; she tilted her head and removed
an earring, then the other.  She reached behind her back, and
unhooked her bra.  She slipped it casually over her pale
shoulders, turning her back to me for a moment; she had a few
dark freckles on her white skin. She turned around again, naked
now.  She smiled confidently, knowing her own beauty.  Her
breasts were milky white, her nipples prominent and pink.  They
hung only slightly, and blue veins were faintly visible through
the skin.

She came to the bed, leaning over me, her breasts swinging
against my cheeks.  I brushed my lips against the nipples, and
inhaled her fragrance.

I was amazed at how cool I was; the old me, the man I knew, would
be nervous, stupid, and too eager to get his cock in while he
could; in short, he would have made a fool of himself.

The new me took his time; and enjoyed it.

I was in no hurry. I'd had two Japanese girls only hours earlier,
after all. I savored every moment of Ingrid, every perfect blond
hair.

It was her who was eager; Ingrid, the sophisticated German
television journalist who was eager to have me, a fireman from
Reading, inside her.

I was never like that before; my cock was like steel, yet I
didn't have to come. I didn't even want to. I just enjoyed making
Ingrid come, again and again. Finally, she begged me to end it;
that was too much for me, a gorgeous German blonde begging me to
come inside her. So I did.


It was like I was a kid, and it was a week of Christmas.
Suddenly, I could get women; beautiful, rich women. High class
women like I'd never dared to dream of. I had confidence, and I
was momentarily famous. A hero, don't forget.

I was with five different women in my last six days in L.A. They
showed me the city, took me to parties, and took me to bed. They
were all wealthy, and all lovely. It was like a dream life for a
week; I knew it was going to end after that, but hey; get it
while you can, I figured.


I hadn't been getting on well with Doris, my girlfriend, before.
I'm not proud of the way I treated her when I got back from my
trip, though. I treated her mean, until she left me, as I wanted
her to. I could do better, I thought.


Young Jessica, the 13-year-old girl I'd saved, was suffering from
post traumatic stress.  I spent a lot of time with her and her
parents, talking about it.  Sometimes with a counselor present.

We went over the events again and again; we tried to come to
terms with it. We all did whatever we could to help her to heal.

At first, Jessica's psychiatrist appreciated having me present.
She said it helped Jessica feel comfortable, helped her open up.
But after awhile, she told me privately that the girl might be
getting too fixated on me.


Somehow, having discovered this new power I had over women, I
couldn't help but try it all the time.

Jessica's mother, Miranda, was 38 years old; yet there was
something about her I found attractive.  I didn't really mean to
do it; maybe I just wanted to see if I could.

She came across the street to visit me around noon, when Jessica
was at school and her husband at work; "To talk about Jessica".
Sure.  With her hair all done, her makeup perfect, her long legs
in stockings descending from a skirt that few women her age could
get away with.

It wasn't right of me to take her to bed; I knew it, but I did it
anyway.  She was a married woman, and the mother of Jessica.  The
poor kid had been through an incredible ordeal, and didn't need
to have trouble in her family.

Miranda was completely stressed out, as you could imagine. She
was suffering from traumatic stress as well, even if it was a
very mild case compared to her young daughter.

When the moment came, that moment when Miranda stood too close,
the heat of her body irresistibly drew me to her. Her glistening
lips parted just so slightly, and her big clear eyes stared up at
me with the silent message that I had come to recognize so well.

Her mouth was welcoming as we kissed, her full body seemed made
to be held against me. Words were no longer our means of
communication.

Piece by piece, I stripped her of her clothing. When she was
naked, I took her upstairs.

She was a pale woman, with a few freckles here and there. Her
breasts were quite large, and hung low yet full against her
chest. Her nipples were great, the kind that only women that have
breast-fed a child have.

Her ass was. generous; large smooth white globes of woman.

She was a passive lover, relaxing on her back while I did the
work. Her fingers touched me lightly, her nails scratching across
my back as I used my younger cock to pleasure us both.

She came in a strange, almost casual way; enjoying her orgasm
without making too much of a fuss about it.

She was pretty relaxed after a couple of hours in my bed, and so
was I.

She had milky pale skin, and carrot colored hair, like Jessica. I
have to admit, I enjoyed releasing her tensions.  She latched
onto me as if she needed to be saved from something intangible;
well, I was into saving people, beautiful women especially.  She
had an incredible figure, for a woman of her age.  I enjoyed
every orgasm I squeezed from her, but felt guilty about it at the
same time.


"How did you have the courage to go in his house?" she asked me,
stroking my depleted balls.

"I'm a fireman.  I save lives for a living.  If the place had
been on fire, and I thought anyone might be inside, I'd kick the
door down without hesitation.  As it was, I wasn't sure about
anything by that time.  I'd been following the van for an hour, I
wasn't even sure if Jessica had been inside.  I wasn't sure what
I'd seen in the street before I left Reading.  But I didn't dare
leave.  What if it was true?  What if Jessica had been abducted,
and no one knew except me?  What if I went looking for a phone,
and couldn't find my way back there?  I'd driven all the way
without my lights on, I had no idea where I was.

"I hesitated outside; then I had the idea.  It doesn't seem like
anything now, looking back on it.  But at the time, it was like a
revelation; I knew what to do.  I knocked on his door, and asked
to use his phone.  No one could arrest me for that.

"He didn't come to the door right away, but it was pretty late by
that time.  1 AM or something.  I just had to see who was in the
house, and if I could use the phone, I was going to dial 911.  I
could tell the cops my suspicion before anything could happen to
break the line.  The worst that could happen was a lot of
embarrassment if I turned out to be completely off base."

"I didn't realize that you were so unsure."

"Well; it was all kind of surreal. It was hard to believe it was
really true, that your daughter was in that house. Of course she
was, we all know that now. At the time, I wasn't sure what I was
doing; but I had to do something. I couldn't have a suspicion
like that and just sneak away."

Miranda crawled between my legs, looked up at me, and began to
suck my cock. She had such pretty eyes; as pretty as her
daughter's.

"What are you trying to do to me, Miranda?"

"You were almost killed for me," she said, "What's an extra
blowjob?"

That was true; the bastard had had a baseball bat in his hand
when he answered the door. What kind of a guy answers his door
holding a baseball bat? I knew I was right when I saw him. I
could smell it; the fear, the tension. He didn't believe my car
had just happened to break down outside his house; I guess I
wasn't all that convincing.

"Sure. Come on in, it's in the hall." He'd said.

I could feel the hairs rising on my neck as he walked behind me;
I would have never turned my back on him if it weren't for the
lighting. A single bare bulb on one wall, the lampshade was
missing. It threw a stark shadow in front of me, and I could see
the shadow of him swing the bat at my head.

I'd ducked, turned, and managed to snatch the bat from him at the
end of his swing; he was a strong bastard, but I was stronger.
Fitness was a requirement for my job.

The thing is, I was afraid.  All right, I was terrified.  Burning
buildings I was used to, I wasn't used to being attacked with a
baseball bat by a psychokiller.  When I got that bat in my hands,
I swung it like I knew how to swing a baseball bat; with all my
strength, straight at the target.  Only his head wasn't a
baseball.

As his body fell to the floor, I could hear a roaring in my ears,
and I felt my knees go rubbery.  What if I was wrong?  What if he
was just an ordinary guy who got paranoid about a stranger in his
house?

Of course that didn't make sense, he'd attacked me.  But I had no
proof of that.

The feeling of the impact has stayed with me; the sensation of
killing another human being. The horrible vision of the result of
that impact often comes to me at night; but in the same
situation, I'd do it again. In fact, I now find the memory
comforting. I get upset when there's another report of another
creep abusing women or children. Then I remember what I did, and
I'm glad.

Anyway, as everyone knows, I wasn't wrong.

I found Jessica tied to a bed in his cellar.

She was bruised, naked, gagged, and handcuffed at each limb to
the corners of the bed.  She was struggling, panicked.  The fear
in her eyes was something I hope to never see again in any living
creature. I still feel the pain of every second I'd hesitated in
indecision before coming to the door; he had beaten her, he had
terrorized her. He hadn't had time to rape her yet though, thank
God

"Jessica!"  I'd said to her, "It's me, Richard.  From across the
street.  It's okay, I saw him take you.  It's okay."

I suppose it sounds pretty lame, but that's what I said.  I just
wanted to end her torment as soon as I could.  I ungagged her and
asked her where the key was.

She calmed down amazingly fast; she also knew exactly where that
key was.  I suppose it's something one makes a note of after
being handcuffed.

I held her in my arms as she cried; she was still naked, but it
wasn't an issue.  I hardly knew her, but at that moment I was her
greatest friend in the world, her only friend.  I knew I had to
phone the police, and her parents.  But the first and most
important thing was to calm her.


I couldn't figure out what the hell I was doing, sleeping with
Miranda.  I had my choice of women, her husband had become my
friend; and of course, Jessica doted on me.

I guess Miranda relaxed me; I felt comfortable with her, in bed
and out. She was something between a mother and a lover, taking
care of my needs, cooling the fires that were raging inside me.
We were good together, but she was a mother and a wife. Her place
was not with me.


I was assigned a therapist; I was skeptical at first, but I
realized that I was also traumatized.  I did need to talk.


It had to be a woman, of course; I found myself attracted to her.
I made a play for her once, and I knew she was tempted; but to
her credit, her professionalism was stronger than her base
desire.

"There are some images, doctor; some things that I can't get out
of my head."  I told her.

"Describe them."  She said.

"It's difficult, they're very disturbing."

"The violence?  I saw the photos, Richard.  No one blames you for
what you did to him."

"No.  I'm all right with that; for all the kids that disappear
every year, I got one guy.  I'd do it again 50 times. The memory
does haunt me a little, but it's ok."

"What is it then?  We can't progress unless you tell me
everything, Richard."

"It's Jessica."

"Go on."

"When I saw her, struggling.  Naked.  I felt somewhere deep
inside myself, I felt desire."

"And that disgusts you?"

"Extremely.  More than that, it distresses me.  Because I
understand him; because there's a little bit of him inside me."

"But only a little bit?"

"Yes.  But it's there."

"But it's normal, Richard.  We all have the beast inside us; the
difference is, most of us understand the need to repress it.  To
never let it even breathe one breath.  That's what you
experienced, the conflict between your primal self and your
civilized self."

"You mean to say that every human being has such impulses?"

"There's some debate about it but yes, that's what I'm saying.
Repressed normally, but they are there."

"That's a frightening idea."

"Yes, it is."


I knew finally why I was fooling around with Jessica's mother;
because of the physical similarity between mother and daughter,
and because even though it was adultery, it was acceptable.
Jessica was thirteen years old.  She was simply not available.

By taking Jessica's mother as a lover, I not only filled my
physical needs, but I protected myself from my unwanted desires.

It was in this confused state of mind that I received the call
from Cora.

"I'd love to see you, Richard," she told me.


Cora;

She was one of the women I'd been with in L.A..  She was
obviously quite wealthy, since she was staying in the hotel while
she was in the city.  She wasn't extremely pretty, but I liked
her.  For one thing, she was one of the only women I'd been with
at that time who wasn't considerably older than myself.

Cora had thick black curls to her shoulders, very pale skin, a
rather unfortunate prominent hook nose, big dark eyes, and full
pouty lips.

"Would it be alright if I came and visited you?" she continued.

"Yes," I told her, "I'd really like that, Cora."

Perhaps I could clear my head; maybe I just needed someone
completely out of this incestuous little loop I'd stitched myself
into.


People say I married her for her money; I'm being very honest
here, and I have to admit that it was part of her appeal to me.
But I genuinely liked Cora, and the depth of her infatuation for
me seemed strong enough to see us through.

I didn't actually realize quite how wealthy she was; Cora is one
of the Getty kids.

I drove her around in my old pickup truck, and she seemed to
enjoy every jolt and squeak.  She told me it seemed like real
life to her, like a real life she'd never experienced.

But it was in bed that we thought we'd found each other; we were
just great in bed together.

The way Cora would shiver with excitement while she waited for
penetration, the pleasure she took in my pleasure; I didn't know
what love was, but I liked her a lot.

It's a weird thing for a guy to be proposed to by a woman, but it
had to be that way.  I couldn't keep her, but she could keep me.
And in style, too.

I wanted what she was offering; the lifestyle I'd tasted briefly
in L.A. The freedom of wealth, the beautiful places, fantastic
foods. I was tired of the cheating with Miranda, I wanted honesty
and stability. A young and pretty heiress who gave good head was
in love with me, and had proposed marriage; I couldn't refuse
her.


The five years I spent with Cora were mostly happy; but she
changed after the baby came.  We went to marriage counseling, we
tried everything; but the truth was, she just didn't like me
anymore.  She was irritated by me, she wasn't comfortable when I
was around.

It wasn't true, what they printed in the tabloids; I was true to
Cora, at least physically. The affairs they wrote about were from
before our marriage.

I honestly tried to make it work, but it wasn't enough. Once her
hero worship dissolved, there just wasn't enough left.

So I returned to my house in Reading; I wasn't sure why.  It had
been my home for so many years, it just seemed like the place to
recover.

And there was Jessica.


Jessica with her big green eyes, eyes filled with adoration.  Her
red/orange curls flowing about her shoulders, her firm breasts,
narrow hips, and perfect ass.

I saw her crossing the street, headed for my house.  I couldn't
believe how beautifully she'd matured.  She rang my bell.
Doorbell, I mean.

There was a moment of hesitation as we looked at each other; then
I opened my arms, and we hugged each other.

"It's good to see you, Richard," she said to me, her face buried
in my neck as she held me tightly.

Jessica was 18 years old; I was 35.  It wasn't right to take her,
I kept thinking.  But I couldn't get her out of my head, I
dreamed of her at night and thought of her during the day.  It
was Jessica I'd wanted, only Jessica; for years.

And now, I knew I could have her; the way she looked at me, the
way her nipples stood out when we were alone.  She wanted me as
much as I wanted her.

But I was afraid of consequences; I knew she had never fully
recovered from the attack.  Miranda told me Jessica still slept
badly, and was still in therapy.  I was the man who had saved
her, and somehow I was the only man outside her family that she
felt comfortable with.

God, I wanted her; I wanted her like I'd never wanted anyone. But
it had to be right, it had to be right for Jessica.  And how
could it be?  She was so young, she was naive.  I shouldn't take
advantage of it, I decided.

But she kept coming over; we talked to each other, we shared
something special.  We'd shared that moment of extreme anxiety
those years before, and that moment was still with us.

Except now, she was an adult.

My arm went around her shoulders at some point; on my couch, my
arm went around her shoulders.  I knew my arm shouldn't be there,
but I couldn't easily take it away.  She was telling me how boys
would ask her out, but she never said yes.

"But why, Jessica?  You have to try to live a normal life. You've
got to snap out of it."

"I don't trust them.  I don't want to be alone with them;
whenever I'm alone in a room with a man, I start to panic.  It's
not something I can control, Richard.  Believe me, it's not by
choice."

"But you're alone with me right now."

"It's only you.  And my dad.  I can't be with anyone else."

I turned and looked down into her eyes; I ached for her young
lips.  She couldn't be with anyone else; how explicit could a
girl half my age be?

And there was something else; I didn't want anyone else, either.

That's how it started, Jessica and me.  I kissed her. With a
tenderness I'd never felt for anyone, I kissed her.

Very slowly, very gradually, our petting became lovemaking.  Her
perfect young body was tight against me, her slim muscular hips
between my hands.  Her hair fell around my head as her lips
devoured my mouth, years of built up passion wanting to be
satisfied at long last.

I wanted to get her jeans off of her, and yet I didn't want to;
she was my little girl, I loved her.

So we wrestled on the couch, wrestled with our own desires and
each other's bodies, exploring the possibilities as we kissed and
touched each other.

I was the only man for her; that was what she'd said.  Perhaps
someday, she could have a normal relationship with someone her
own age.  But at that moment, she couldn't; so why shouldn't she
have one with me?  So what if I was older?  I wasn't over the
hill.  We were both in the prime of our lives, and we wanted each
other.

She was so slim and light; she threw her arms around my neck and
smiled brighter than the day as I carried her upstairs to my
bedroom.

For the first time since I'd returned to Reading, Jessica and I
didn't need to speak.  She lifted her trim butt as I peeled the
jeans from her body.  She lifted her arms over her head as I
removed her T-shirt.

Her body was perfection; long and pale, her curves just right.
Her breasts smaller than her mother's, but so faultless in their
shape.

I shouldn't be doing this, I kept telling myself; I mustn't fuck
Jessica, it would be taking advantage.

Oh god, she was so beautiful; the most beautiful woman I'd ever
seen. She was an adult now, she was willing, and she was naked in
my bedroom. How could I stop now?

Her eyes were fixed on my stiff cock, sticking straight out in
front of me like a lance. Tentatively, she reached for it.
Gingerly, she touched my organ.

It had never been like that before; not with anyone.

In the years of my marriage, Cora and I had had some good times,
I'd thought we'd found passion at some point. But now I knew I'd
been wrong, I was a virgin when it came to love.

That spooked me; Love. I was 35 years old, I shouldn't even think
something that stupid; and yet. why shouldn't I love her? Who
could help but love Jessica?

She sucked my cock experimentally; she had no idea what she was
doing, and yet it was one of the most intense sensations my cock
had ever experienced.

Her long thighs spread open for me; her pink snatch in its orange
halo pulled me forward. She tasted sweet, so sweet.  I could have
eaten her forever, a meal of ultimate satisfaction that never
filled me.

I had no condoms, but we couldn't be stopped. She was as wild for
me as I was for her, we needed to couple ourselves together, we
had to do it; I was unprepared for such a powerful impulse, such
raw primal desire.

My cock went there, it went to her entrance; she was hot, so hot,
and tight.

Jessica was a virgin; she had never even let a man touch her
before. Everything about her was perfectly fresh, unspoiled. Her
grey-green eyes bored into me as my cock slid deeper, deeper;
until my ecstatic length was fully immersed in her happy young
body.

I could tell from the tension in her that she was close to
orgasm, and I started to pump her, to make her come.

I wanted to fill her, I had an inexplicable urge to come inside
her unprotected body, but there was some remnant of civilization
still active inside me; I pulled out and ejaculated over her
smooth pale belly.


After showering my gunk from her body, Jessica snuggled up
against me, and after a while, she began to cry softly.

"What is it? What's wrong?" I asked her, afraid of the answer.

"Nothing." She sobbed into my shoulder.

She slept.  It was only 4 PM, but she seemed to need sleep; she
was so peaceful, that I didn't move for fear of disturbing her.
My poor little angel, sleeping against my shoulder; why had I
done it?  Why couldn't I have just left it out this one time?


Jessica went home at around 11, leaving me alone with my shame.
Miranda came to see me the next day.

"You did it with her, didn't you?"  She asked.

"Did she tell you?"

"I'm her mother.  She didn't have to tell me.  She was over here
for hours, and then she came home so... Anyway, I could tell. 
How could you, Richard?  She's so sensitive, she's so young!"

"I'm sorry, Miranda.  I didn't mean to, it just happened."

"You're so full of shit, Richard.  You were hot for her all the
time, since it happened.  We all knew it.  Why do you think I
came over here that time?"

"What time?"

"You know what time.  Five years ago, when we had sex."

"Oh, of course.  That time.  Why did you come over, Miranda?"

"So you wouldn't do it with Jessica.  So you would never do it
with Jessica."

"Hey, she was only 13!  What kind of a guy did you think I was?"

"Well Richard, I don't know; a guy who would take advantage of a
young girl who idolizes him, perhaps."

"Come on, Miranda!  She's 18 now.  She's an adult."

"Really?  She's never recovered, you know.  She has flashbacks,
she has bad dreams.  She almost never sleeps properly, even now.
She flies into rages, and she battles with depression.  How can
she grow up?  How could you do that to her?"

Before Miranda started giving me shit, I had been feeling pretty
bad about it all myself.  But she made me angry; the way she
belittled what had gone on between Jessica and I, as though it
had been something cheap and tawdry.

"Do you want Jessica to live a normal life, Miranda?"  I
demanded, "Do you want her to grow up?  Find love?  Have sex?
She's 18!"

"And you're 35!"

"So what?  You've told me yourself how you wished she would find
a boyfriend."

"That's right, Richard; I had wished her to find a boy, not a
divorced man with a child who had already slept with hermother."

Miranda started to cry; I couldn't be angry at her for been
concerned about Jessica.  I went to put my arm around her, but
she pulled away and ran home.


I had urge to run away; to get away from this mess, to leave
Jessica to find a more suitable partner for herself.

I had another urge; to hold her forever, to protect her from
pain, trauma, from the creeps of this world.  To marry her, and
make her mine.

But the girl was just 18; she was too young to know what she
would want in her life.  I knew she wanted me at that moment, and
I knew I wanted her; I knew I would want her for a long time,
probably my whole life.  If I asked her, she would do anything
for me.  She'd marry me; but it wouldn't be right.

Jessica came by again; even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't refuse
her.  I knew Miranda would know; she'd probably watched her
daughter cross the street and knock on my door.  I didn't care,
it didn't matter; to hell with them all, to hell withconvention.

With Jessica in my arms, I was complete; holding her body tightly
against myself, her young lips clamped against my mouth, a power
I'd never known before flooded through me.  The world could
bounce harmlessly from my shoulders, nothing could injure us.

It was more than desire; more than sex.  It was need, mutual
need.  Jessica was afraid, traumatized, and had trouble coping. I
was alone, incomplete, and in need of love.

I could kill for this woman, I thought.  I already had.

It was fire, it was a fusion reaction; it had been started, and
nothing could stop it.

A trail of clothes was left on the stairs, across the hall,
ending at the bed.  We made love like we were the only humans
left on the earth; I lay on my back as my young sweetheart rode
my cock to satisfaction, the firm vanilla ice-cream mounds of her
breasts swaying enticingly before me.

She lay on her front, with her perfect buttocks raised, and I
entered her from behind. The feeling of being inside her young
body was more intense than anything I never known; it was the
emotion, the primal emotion of it. I bit the back of her neck as
she came, screaming into my pillow.

We did it missionary style, her long legs splayed as my cock slid
into her once more; once more, and once again.

I wanted so badly to fill her, I wanted to make her pregnant, I
wanted to keep her forever for myself.  No other man should ever
have Jessica, never. I would never hurt her, but another man just
might. Jessica must never be hurt, she must be loved and
cherished, protected from all harm. I didn't want to share her. I
wanted her to be mine, only mine.  Forever. Mine to care for and
protect, to feed and love, to pet and hold. To one day carry my
children, to share my life.

I pulled out of her, and she grabbed my cock and pulled it to her
lips.

Her warm mouth was almost too much for me, and I ejaculated as I
never had before; I held her head in my hands and looked down
into her big clear loving eyes as spasm after spasm rocked my
body, while my young lover drank it as though it were elixir.


Jessica slept with me that night; she slept late into the morning
in my arms.  It couldn't be wrong, I realized.  This couldn't be
wrong. It was too perfect, too beautiful.  Jessica wasn't the
only one who was finding a peace that had eluded her.  As I
looked at her resting face, a calmness came over me that I'd
never experienced before.  I felt no stress, no longing.  I had
everything I needed; I had the only thing I had ever needed.  I
had Jessica.


Jessica might be too young, but I'm old enough to know what I
want; I want to marry her.  I've resolved to wait at least two
more years.  When she's lived with me for three years, and she
still loves me like she does now, then I think we can say it's
more than a childhood fascination. More than a little girl crush
on the man that saved her; who would always be there to save her,
whenever and wherever.

She is my angel, my light, my breath. I can hardly bear to have
her out of my sight; I have to know she's safe.

In a way, I want what the man I killed wanted; to bind this girl
and have her for my own. I want to posses her, to experience her
purity.

I put the world on notice:

Were any man to try again to take her by force, I'll kill him
without a second thought.

 Ace 2003

 storyace@hotmail.com


My fans might have noted that I haven't posted anything for a
while; it happens when I don't get any MAIL!

All my stories are free at; http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/aceinthe_hole/www/

and; http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/aceinthe_hole/   [in plain
text]


I have more stories that are almost ready. If I feel appeciated
[by getting mail], I'll get them done.

Regards, Ace 

------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
This post has been reformatted by the ASSM
Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting.

-- 
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: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+