|
The story of Livinia Part 2
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
... a memoir from Friar Dave, to be found and addressed as
same on Rusty & Edie's BBS, about meeting a very special young woman and
the encounters with her and how things thus began to Get Out of Hand.
This memoir is very explicit, but not to worry, Dear Reader, because I
have changed the names to protect those who had a helluvalot of fun, and
if tales of people getting to know each other in Every Way offend you,
this is a real good time to erase this file.
Any and all feedback -- positive and negative -- would be
appreciated.
A note to those expecting umpty-ump bytes of pure fuck'n'suck: Not
this one. Go get SINGAPR?.ZIP or SINGAPOR.ZIP. The Good Parts are here,
but not alone. Livvy was -- is -- a nifty and complete person.
And why haven't you told your story? Bashful? Hmmmm?
LIVINIA.2
My girlfriend of several years and I went through our usual Therapy
Session when I told her what had happened. After a lot of years and
tough times together, Annie and I have few -- if any -- secrets from
each other and we like it that way. The question about safety was almost
pro forma, because she knew how paranoid I am about AIDS; my answer was
very much what she could have expected: "Because I remember her telling
me about getting the test for her Green Card and another test when she
applied for a part-time job at Woodhull Hospital. Remember? I told you
she asked me to explain some of the results to her. I've seen the
papers." Sealed in gold, that one was. Then, Annie's next question was
Would she like Livinia. I had to tell her the truth: Probably not.
Annie, petite and amazingly sexy, is picky about women and she likes 'em
bigger and busty-er than herself. And she likes 'em blonde. I told her
the truth: I liked Livinia and thought the world of her. Knowing how I
like kids, Annie wondered aloud if my liking Sabrina wasn't part of it.
No, not this fella -- I liked spending time with Livinia, I really liked
fucking and sucking with Livinia, but Sabrina was on the threshold of
going from being a kid to being a young woman. I liked Livinia for
Livinia. Sabrina was kind of a bonus...as long as it lasted. Once she
started developing into a young woman and became aware of it, she was --
perfectly normally -- going to be more interested in trying out her new
equipment on kids her age then in hanging out at some ol' museum with
her ol' mom and the ol' guy who used to help her with homework. Annie
and I go through this whenever one of us gets the hots for someone new.
Nine times out of ten, we're just reassuring each other that we haven't
lost sight of what's special in our relationship. Sometimes, the tenth
time is a challenge, because the addition could be a threat. And
sometimes, one of us is in the awkward position of fighting like hell
for the relationship. But after more than a decade, neither of us would
trade the other for any fantasy, because -- for me, at least -- Annie
*is* my fantasy. it's a shame that when we tried living together we
didn't find ourselves compatible that way -- we're both too independent
-- but what we have suits us as well as marriage and kids suits some
folks and as well as purely going it alone suits others. I also told
Annie that Livinia seemed to have some hesitations and I didn't think it
was going to go much farther than being friends and very occasionally
lovers and even that not for very long. Then Annie and I went to bed and
after (once-again) amazingly pleasurable sexiness and togetherness, we
snuggled. Over the next few weeks, Livinia and I got together
occasionally, mostly for a cup of coffee or an occasional quick meal
(while Sabrina noisily played with a milkshake or dissected a banana
split) and it was pleasant. But the sexual tension was palpable.
Thanksgiving came and went, and then we were in the thick of the
Christmas holidays. I gave Livinia a card -- just a remembrance -- but
to Sabrina I gave an Ocean Pacific sweatshirt 183 sizes too big (which
was what kids her age were favoring) and, of course, a book: a fresh
reprint of Andre Norton's "Daybreak 2250," excellent stuff (as is all of
Mary Andre Norton's), especially for bright young females, since the
protagonist is a 15-year-old girl who has an empathetic bond with
animals in a post-World War III world. The new year began as it usually
did and then we were into the dregs of January. it was warm and drizzly
in New York City that year, and the Science Section of the Times carried
many articles about the greenhouse effect -- all of which editions were
delivered by internal combustion-driven trucks. On the second Friday of
January, I took Livinia and Sabrina to Laserium, up at the Museum of
Natural History's Hayden Planetarium. Sabrina thought it was "fresh" and
"rad" (I think that was what she said) and Livinia liked the music (Pink
Floyd and Yes) and the laser light show, though together, they didn't
make much sense to her -- but we did a lot of earnest and covert
hand-holding. Like a couple of kids. It was nice. Then more weeks passed
as my job and hers erased free time with an astonishing efficiency. On
President's Weekend (whatever the hell that is), Annie was going to
visit friends in Vermont and on the way was going to stop in
Massachusetts to visit Bozo the Chef in his country home. Unlike most of
her other interests, Bozo struck me as a singular asshole, but she felt
a compelling attraction to him. She'd vowed Safe Sex until he agreed to
a test (and after three months, his continued stalling was simply the
crowning proof on his rectal-ness), so I had no real gripe, except for
some dismay at her lack of taste. But, what the hell -- you have to make
some compromises to make a good thing last. I stopped into the 'mat on
Monday and Sabrina grabbed me. She was all excited. "I'm gonna meet my
aunt -- finally!" "That's nice. Is she coming to visit?" "Yeah -- and
she got her visa and she's going to stay in America! Isn't that great?"
"When is she coming?" "Thursday. I can't wait!" "Terrific." We chatted a
bit about her classes and then I went to the back of the 'mat to see
Livinia. "I hear you're going to have company." "Oh, yes, my sister is
coming to stay for some days, then she goes to Orlando to stay with my
cousins and get a job." aaaaaaaaaaand she never missed a beat at folding
somebody's undershirt. "That's nice." "You don't look happy. Is
something wrong?" "I was going to ask you out to dinner for Friday or
Saturday and maybe take you and Sabrina to the Metropolitan Museum."
"Oh, maybe another -- wait! Can my sister come with us?" I thought on
that for a moment. "Sure." I leaned close. "If she promises to babysit
Sabrina later..." I whispered. She blushed and said, "Maybe this is not
a good idea. You may decide you'd rather take Alicia home with you,
since she is younger and much prettier than me." I stared at her.
"Prettier than you? That's hard to believe, since you are very pretty."
"All the boys always like her more than me in my country. She is younger
and has a nicer body." "I seem to recall that you have a terrific body.
Want me to prove it again?" I watched her nipples come to attention
through her bra and blouse. "She is much bigger than me up on top, you
know? The boys always chase after her." "I'm not a little boy and I like
your body and I liked having my face between your legs and licking you
-- " She put her hand on my mouth. "Stop it! It makes me peel punny
inside when you say those things!" "Good!" We made a date for Saturday
and I found myself wondering about her sister. I would have expected
more venom when she spoke of a younger sister who drew the boys; she'd
been very matter-of-fact about it. On Saturday morning, I knocked on the
door at 10 a.m. Sabrina answered. A few months had made a significant
difference. She had gone from skinny to slim and her pullover was just
beginning to show little telltale bumps of what would one day be
breasts. In a way, I was sorry. Soon she'd be more of a young woman than
a little girl and we would no longer have the nice, relaxed friendship
we now had. She would be interested in boys and in proving her
attractiveness and the Old Guy Who Dated Mom would be one of Them -- you
know: Grownups. Evelyn was there and Evelyn was coming with us, which
suited me fine. Evelyn was Sabrina's best friend and also her
thirty-fourth cousin or somesuch. If Sabrina had been skinny, Evelyn was
downright scrawny -- but every bit as impish and sweet as Sabrina.
Sabrina gave me a little "hello" kiss -- this was something new for her
-- which made me a tad uncomfortable. She was really turning into a
lithely sexy girl and I didn't like my response to her closeness. I'd
have to be sure not to let my gonads take charge with a kid. Then Evelyn
did the same thing and she wrapped her arms around me in the process.
Now that really struck me as weird, but since Evelyn was in every way
still a little girl, I was puzzled, but not discomfited. They ushered me
into the living room, telling me Livinia and "Aunt Alicia" would be down
in a minute and we talked a little about what we were going to be seeing
today at the Metropolitan. Then Livinia and Alicia entered. They were
dressed very similarly -- dark skirts, white blouses -- and both were
short and that was pretty much the end of the resemblance. Livinia had
been almost right about Alicia being prettier, but that wasn't the word
for it. "Knockout" was more like it. An inch or so shorter than Livinia,
with the same flawless, dark complexion, Alicia looked ready to burst
out of her skin. She was absolutely glowing with vitality. In her, the
influence of oriental ancestry was a more evident. From the neck up.
From the neck down she was the dream of every feverish adolescent boy.
Her legs wee long and sleekly curved, her hips were as narrow as
Livinia's, her waist was even tinier, but her breasts were about twice a
big -- and Livinia was not a slouch in that department. Alicia's breasts
were large, round, firm and too big for her to button as much of her
blouse as Livinia had. Then I realized she was wearing high heels while
Livinia was wearing flat heels and saw that Alicia couldn't have been
more than four- foot-ten. Which made her proportions all the more
striking. All I could think of for a moment was eating her. But I
recovered and Livinia introduced us and then we headed for the
Metropolitan. Me and four females. We had a delightful time. Evelyn and
Sabrina were bowled over when they saw some of the fine silver-craft on
the balcony overlooking the Rodin Garden -- and realized the work had
been done less than five blocks from where Sabrina lived. Livinia was
mesmerized by the Tiffany windows. Alicia was left breathless by the
Temple of Dendur. I took my lovely quartet for a late lunch at
Donovan's, over on Third Avenue. Alicia didn't speak much, and when she
did, she spoke softly and with much less of an accent than her older
sister. She didn't keep her eyes downcast in conversation with me. From
Donovan's, I took them down to the IBM Gallery where there was a
hand's-on science exhibit. The kids loved it and both Livinia and Alicia
were somewhat tickled by the funny room that could make a child seem
taller to an outside observer than a forward for the Lakers. I had them
all back at Livinia's house by six. Alicia, barely adjusted to her jet
leg, was more than happy to agree to sit up with Sabrina and Evelyn. She
thanked me for a lovely day and shook my hand. Livinia changed and we
headed for my house. It's three long flights to my top-floor apartment
and halfway through the last flight, I couldn't resist running my hand
up Livinia's denim clad thigh. She paused and pressed down against my
fingers, then scurried the last few steps to my door. My so-called cat
flopped on his back and demanded belly mushes before granting admission,
then stood over his (nearly full) bowl and cried for food. I made a show
of shaking the Cat Chow box over the bowl and he was happy and left us
alone while I took her short down coat and gave her the fifty-cent tour.
She expressed surprise that the apartment didn't look like a pigsty;
bachelors have a bad reputation in that. From my living room window, we
could look out over the rooftops to the east and see the jets in their
graceful dance waiting to land at Laguardia Airport and as we stood and
watched the silent ballet, I slipped my arms around her from behind. She
snuggled back against me and pulled my hands to her breasts. She was
wearing a turtleneck and there was nothing beneath it but Livinia. Her
nipples were already hard and in a few moments, they were even harder. I
got my hands up under the sweater and savored the full, firm weight of
her lovely breasts, rubbing my thumbs over her nipples. She started
resisting, pushing away from the window. "People will see!" she
protested. I turned out the light and we were illuminated only by what
came through the window from the winter New York night sky. I pulled the
turtleneck up and over her head and kissed her. She writhed against me,
wrapping her legs around one of mine and grinding her crotch against me.
I could feel the swollen surprise of her clitoris even through our
clothes. I dropped to my knees and feasted on her tits while I opened
her jeans and peeled them and her wispy panties down to her ankles. She
stepped out of them as I kissed my way down to her cunt, but sank to the
area rug next to me just before I got a liplock on her clit. She
lavished lots of soft, wet kisses on me as she worked at my pants and I
stripped out of my flannel shirt. "Take these away!" she whispered
throatily, tugging at my jeans. I rolled to my back and she dragged my
clothes down my legs while I tried to kick off my shoes. We were both
abruptly naked. I started to rise to my knees, but she put one small
hand on my chest, did that very compact bend and gulped my rigid cock
into her mouth and throat. She was making little gasping, mewing noises.
Combined with what she was doing, I knew I had maybe two minutes of
restraint left and pushed her head up and off me. Again she pushed me
back prone, but this time she licked her way up from cock to my chin and
straddled me and then mounted me. Her cunt was tense, tight, very wet
and unbelievably hot as she settled onto me. "It is so good, it is so
good," she moaned as she sheathed my cock in her. When she was pressing
that hugely swollen clit into the bony ring around the base of my cock,
she leaned back slightly and I reached up to play with her nipples. Her
cunt was already starting its spastic clenchings on me; pinching her
nipples lightly turned the spasms into paroxysms. She began riding me,
rocking her hips faster and faster over me. She came and then she came
again. She threw her arms up over her head and shimmied. She started to
topple backward, then caught herself on her outstretched arms and raised
herself so only her cunt was touching me -- and it touched real good.
Her movements became frantic. I ran my hands up over her sleek, taut
thighs and then pressed my thumb against the base of her clit. She went
nuts, ramming herself down on me faster and taster. I pressed my fingers
down into her hard abdomen, just above her pubis, and she sat up
abruptly and started to fall forward onto me, her legs still on either
side of my hips. I caught her and pulled her down close on top of me,
until her nipples were gouging my chest and her face was against my
neck. I put my hands on her thighs and guided her till she was tightly
curled above me, then reached back and grabbed her ass, so firm and
rounded. I guided her movements as I began pushing up into her. In that
position, I knew my cock felt deeper in her and pressed all the right
spots. I bucked faster and faster and squeezed her small ass cheeks.
When I let the index fingers of each hand wander between those pert
hillocks and begin massaging her asshole, she tensed -- and then went
absolutely wild. She screamed against my chest and came and came. Her
cunt, already tight, clamped down on my dick and all the muscles inside
her seemed to go into convulsions. It took all of my strength to hold
her crazily bucking form against me. I slid one finger to the first
knuckle inside her ass and then I came. I came hard and long, my dick
swelling and throbbing inside her. My balls lurched and I fired a long
gusher of jism up into that tightly squeezing cunt, adding my heat to
her molten grip. She bit my shoulder and shuddered powerfully as her
cunt pulled and milked my dick until my balls were jerking dryly and I
could hardly breath. I fell back, limp, and began shriveling inside her.
I ran my hands up over her butt and the small of her back and held her
close with my arms around her back at its broadest point. She slowly
straightened her legs and lay sprawled atop me, her tight pussy holding
my limpening dick inside her as if her cunt didn't want to let it go.
Fine by me. Her spasms calmed as I began to catch my breath. We lay
there for a long time, slightly sheened with perspiration and, between
our legs, heavily soaked. Juices had leaked out around my cock despite
the tightness of her cunt. I could feel the gentle undulations of her
belly against me and her breathing pressed her lovely tits against my
upper abdomen as she snuggled down into me. I ran my hands over her back
and caressed her face, then slid one hand down to barely touch her ass.
She shivered when my finger slid up along the crevice of those smooth
little cheeks and when she shivered, she shivered inside, as well. "I
always wanted to do that," she whispered. "Do what? This?" I pressed my
finger against her anus. "No -- to be on top of the man because I want
to be on top." I was a bit taken aback by this; she'd never been in the
female superior? I decided to let it go for the time being. "Any time,"
I said. "I like it." "You do?" "Yes -- because then you do all the work
and I just lay back and enjoy it." "Oh, you are making fun!' But she
straightened and leaned forward and took my face in her hands and
pressed her lips to mine. In the process, even her tight little cunt
released my limp cock and once her twat was unstoppered, the juices
poured out us. We scurried bare-assed out of the living room and seconds
later were in the shower, enjoying the steady beat of the hot water on
us. Looking at her all glistening and reveling sensuously in the water
sluicing over her skin, I was again struck with her unaffected beauty.
We soaped each other, lingering over Choice Parts. At one point, I was
bending over her with her snuggled back against me. I'd been soaping her
front and my hands had gone lower. The lower my hands had gone, the more
she bent, the more she bent, the more my cock hardened and suddenly she
was holding the lower faucets and wriggling her bare buns back against
me, massaging my cock between them. "Have you ever done it in the
shower?" "No -- it is too slippery!" I pulled back, meaning to put my
cock to the entrance of her sweet cunt. "You're always slippery," I
said. She bumped and the head of my cock caught momentarily on the
tightly puckered rosette of her anus. She stood and turned to me, nearly
falling. "No!" Her vehemence startled me. Sodomizing her hadn't been my
goal, but I decided no explanations would be good at the moment and
simply reassured her that we'd do nothing she didn't want. She raised
her arms up to my shoulders -- and suddenly turned the spray into my
face and skittered out of the tub. I heard her pause to pull a towel
down from the linen shelf and then I was following wet footprints on the
hardwood floor while toweling myself off. I found her in the bedroom,
rummaging through the closet. "Can I help you, ma'am?" "Thank you, I'm
alright." She pulled my short blue terrycloth robe around her. It was
short on me; it hung to her knees and the sleeves were not more than six
or eight inches too long for her. She wrapped her towel about her dark,
wet hair. "Can I help you?" I reached past her and took down my old,
long flannel robe. "Thank you, I'm alright." She threw a hip into my
thigh and I fell on my bed. I pulled her down on top of me and kissed
her full on the mouth. We lay there, cuddling for a few moments. "I
meant that about not making you do anything." "I'm sorry. It's just that
it makes me remember...bad things." I kissed her eyes. "Let's make some
good things to remember. Hungry?" "Oh, you will cook for me?" "You don't
have to make it sound impossible. I can boil water and use a microwave
with the best of them." "I am not really hungry." We decided on some
fresh coffee and I suggested she try Irish-style coffee. She listened
intently while I described it, then her eyes brightened and widened. "I
will try it!" I ground and made the coffee -- two parts Sumatra to one
part each French-roast Colombian and French-roast Altura Coatapec --
while she whipped the cream, something she had never done before. She
whipped almost a half-pint in the mixing bowl; we wouldn't need more
than couple of tablespoons. I decided there was no need for the excess
to go to waste. I built the two confections lovingly. Irish style coffee
prepared properly with fresh ingredients is a masterpiece of delight.
First, a teaspoon of brandy (rye is too sharp). Then an ounce of coffee.
Then a tablespoon of whipped cream. Repeat until the vessel is full and
sprinkle just a little pinch of cinnamon, nutmeg or both on the last
layer of whipper cream. If it's done gently and well, you can see the
layers through the side of a good glass Irish coffee cup. I was just to
the second set of layers when she stopped me. "Why do you put less
brandy in mine?" "Because I weigh twice as much as you." She drew
herself up to her full five-foot-and-a-shade. "I want the same." I put
whipped cream on the tip of her nose. "Okay." We sat in the living room
talking about not much in particular, mostly just snuggling close on the
couch while listening to John Williams's CD of Villa-Lobos. The only
light in the room was from the street lights outside and the occasional
flicker of a match as one or the other of us lit a cigarette. I was
gently stroking the nape of her neck. About two-thirds of her coffee was
gone. She leaned her head back, trapping my hand against the back of the
couch. Her right hand slid down under my robe and gripped my cock. It
immediately began swelling. "I like your penees," she said. "It is not
too big." "Really know how to make a guy feel good, don't you?" She
squeezed. "I learn." "I was being sarcastic." Her head came up and her
face turned toward me. The light from the window failed to find a flaw.
"I hurt your feelings?" "Guys generally don't enjoy being told they're
small down there." "But you're not too small!" she protested. "It's just
right! I don't like big peneeses." "Cocks." She squeezed. "Say it."
"C-cocks." She giggled. "Most women like 'em big. The bigger the
better." "Oh, no! Too big and it hurts and then I can not enjoy it. I am
very small, you know." "I noticed -- and I like it..." I started to slid
my hand beneath her robe. She suddenly stood. She drained her coffee and
held it out to me. "Can we make more?" I stood and took the cup. "Sure
-- but don't you think you should eat first? You're going to get
snookered." "'Snookered'?" "Silly." "Plastered, you mean." I nodded.
"You would mind?" "Only if you're noisy or sloppy." She pressed up close
to me. "Besides," I said, "if you get drunk I can take advantage of
you." "I don't know this word." "Ravish you." Comprehension dawned. "Ah,
yes, have your way with me! Like in the romance stories." She laughed
lightly. "More?" I nodded but put on my best Quizzical Expression.
"Maybe there are things I want to tell you, but I can not say them if it
is bright or I have not gotten a little bit snookies." "Snookered."
"Plastered." "As you wish." I let her lead me through my own apartment
toward my kitchen. I think she purposely twitched her little butt more
than necessary for the benefit of her tailgater. I had a lot of
questions and just as many hopes for what would come -- ahem -- to pass
yet with this lovely Filipina immigrant. I really liked the prospects. I
just wished I could stop thinking about her younger sister.
8
|
|
