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The Reluctant Stallion
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.
Author's note: This character has been running around my head for
the last six months just begging to get out. So I went and committed
the knavish act of reading her diary. And it revealed an ordinary
romance between two ordinary people. It is decidedly soft core, as
Millie's personality would never permit her to discuss the slimy
details of any sex act. But even an ordinary romance is
extraordinary to its victims, and Millie has her own ways of
expressing her steamiest and most secret desires.
The Reluctant Stallion
an original romance by Karl Hahn
March 30
Dear Diary,
Mom slipped me the money this morning. I can't believe I'm doing
this. But Mom said, "No reason to feel embarrassed, Honey. If it
doesn't work out, you can tell everybody that your mom made you do
it. And if it does, then it can be your idea." Mom's sure gotten
cool lately. Then she said, "Just don't tell your father I gave you
all this money for it. He'll just say you're spending his money to
turn up more losers." Yeah, I know he loves me, but I wish he'd get
a better opinion of my judgement. Like I've really done a lot lately
to give him one. Hah!
So I'm going to the video dating service -- the expensive one. My
head tells me Mom's wasting her money, but my heart is full of happy
expectations. For once in my life, I wish my heart would be right
about something. Sure hope I look okay. Mom picked out a pink
dress for me. It's kind of tight. Should've spent more time at
aerobics this month. Hey Diary, is there a month I haven't told you
that? Mom told me my hair looks good and I know she's right. I
think she knows that's the only compliment she can give me that I
know isn't BS.
March 31
Dear Diary,
So I'll bet your just dying to know what happened. Well, I think I
made a pretty decent video. Didn't make a fool of myself. Tooted my
own horn without making any big boasts. And I kept my shoulder to
the camera. Good thing it never saw my butt. Still looked kinda fat
though, but imagine what that thing would do to me if I turned full
face. But my hair turned out real fine -- all long and shiny under
those lights.
Mostly, I just told the truth. All my lies are in the past now,
right? Well, I told most of the truth. Like I didn't say anything
about musical taste. Who'd go out with a girl who likes old
fashioned crooners? I can just hear the guy, "She likes her
grandma's music. Must be a real tigress." I did mention how I like
empty beaches and tear-jerker movies. I said how lately I've gotten
closer to my mom (that was probably a big mistake, but it slipped
out). And I mentioned about my job at the veterinary. Didn't say I
was just the receptionist, though.
You wondering yet about the videos of the guys? They showed me a
bunch of them. But most of those guys came across as big BS'ers.
God, I sure hope they don't think that about me. I was beginning
to think that this whole thing was a waste when they get to this one
guy, Calvin. Actually, I thought Calvin was pretty much of a loser
too, at first. He seemed so nervous, and he had trouble getting his
words out. Nice double-breasted navy-blue jacket though. Too bad
his tie didn't go with it. And he was losing his hair (still kinda
cute though, especially sometimes when he looked at the camera this
one way and for a second his eyes looked so childlike.). But just like
all the other guys, he talked about his job right at the beginning.
It seems that Calvin maintains electronic gadgets on airplanes. But
then he said something that struck a nerve. He said, "Even if I
could afford a Ferrarri, I don't think I'd buy one. I'd probably get
a newer version of the Taurus I have now, or maybe a minivan. Any
girl who'd go out with a guy just 'cause he drives a Ferrarri is not
the girl for me." It made me think about all the times I was
impressed with some guy's car, and what a BS thing that really is.
Then he says something else that was especially musical to me.
"And I'm not buying a rug either. Here's the way it is. Some men get
bald and some women gain a little weight and there's not a damn thing
any of us can do about it. Besides, most women who think they're fat
really aren't."
Balding or not, that did it. I didn't look at any more videos.
Didn't even finish that one. I just told them to give Calvin my
number. Then they say, "You know, we can give your number to more
than one guy." So I told them if Calvin doesn't work out, I'd be back.
They're under contract anyway.
I just had a terrible thought. Every fat girl in the world is gonna
be giving this guy their number. He'll never call me.
April 5
Dear Diary,
The only other person besides you and Mom who knows I did this thing
is Denise. Sure wish I could pick guys like I pick roommates. When
I tolder her, she says, "So, you looked at a bunch of guys braggin'
'bout their dick size, right?" We both giggled.
"Well, that was most of it," I said. Then I told her about Calvin.
"He hasn't called yet though," I said.
"Give him time, girl," she says. "He's gotta get back down there and
look at your video, you know. Maybe he's a busy guy. You remember
to stick your boobs out on that tape?"
"Any guy who'd go out with me just for my boobs is not the guy for
me," I said, "although they're not half bad with a decent bra on
'em. Still, I'm gonna be mighty down if I can't even get a date from
a dating service."
"But if you do, sugar, remember that I am gonna honor our agreement.
Any time you need this shack for the night, I'm outta your way. You
just name the night. One of us gotta cash in on that deal soon.
Folks're gettin' to think we're lesbians."
April 7
Dear Diary,
God, this sucks. I think that phone is broken. Not a peep.
April 8
Dear Diary,
I'm going back there tomorrow and look at some more tapes. This
Calvin's probably a jerk anyway.
April 9
Dear Diary,
He called! 7:13 this morning. Denise answered it. I just got out
of the shower. There I am, naked, dripping all over the floor.
"Hello, Millie," he says. "This is Calvin. They gave me your number
at the dating place. Sorry I called so early, but I don't think I
could be this brave in the evening. Besides, I wanted to be sure and
catch you home. I was wondering if you'd like to get together this
weekend. Maybe dinner-theatre, and then we could go dancing?"
You'd think I could have said, "That sounds delightful," without
tripping over my tongue. He probably thinks I'm an idiot now.
April 12
Dear Diary,
Here's how it went tonight. He showed up on time. Denise didn't
meet him. She was at a party with her art student friends. Good
thing. She would have been on him about his clothes. He wore a
light blue suit but his dark tie sure didn't go with it, and the
powder-green shirt -- it didn't work either. Dinner -- good food. I
had the chicken with some kind of tomato and cheese sauce. Couldn't
get him to talk much. He tried to make some conversation, talking
about his job. Like that's really gonna get me hot. And I learned
he has a younger sister and no brothers and sees his dad often.
Besides that, he was quiet. The show was okay -- some local troupe
doing Music Man.
He was awkward on the dance floor too, until they had a slow number.
He was so tense at first. Then I laid my head on his shoulder and he
loosened up a little. I closed my eyes and felt his warmth of his
collar on my cheek. He put his hand in my hair. "Enjoying
yourself?" he asked. "Mmmmmm," I answered and pulled him in tighter.
I heard him go, "Mmmmmm," too. He relaxed some mre. Then I began
to feel is crotch responding to the me. He tensed up again and pulled
away. Not violently, but just enough for me to know he felt
embarrassed by it. "Everything's okay when you're slow-dancing," I
whispered. He relaxed again, but it wasn't the same as the before.
I guess he was afraid his erection might come back.
He drove me back to the house. He worked on some more conversation in
the car. We talked about the show, but both of us had seen Music Man
before, so that didn't go very far. He was trying so hard, and just
falling flat. At least he's not trying to BS me about being a
highshool allstar or something. I just know there's got to be a
stallion under that suit somewhere. So I kept up a smile and glanced
over at him about ten times a minute.
He walked me to the stoop.
"You want to come in for a little while?" I asked. What a chance I
was taking. I hadn't taken Denise up on her offer, and she might
watching TV in her nightie or something. That would be my luck.
Bring home my first date in months and Denise ends up with him -- but
I don't think she'd ever do that to me. And besides, she's fatter
than I am.
So anyway, he says, "Why don't we stay out here for a bit. The
weather's gotten so nice the last few days, and the moon is shining."
We sat down on the steps.
"Yeah," I said. "We sure did get lucky tonight -- with the weather,
that is."
"Don't you just hate that expression, 'get lucky?'" he says. "It's
got such a crude connotation. I consider myself to have gotten lucky
on the first date if all I do is what we're doing now."
"Oh, that's so sweeeet," I say. God, I'm an idiot. How could I say
something so insipid? But it was an opening. I leaned over and kissed
him on the cheek. He took my hand in his.
"I love the moonlight," he says. "Look how it turns all the colors
of everything into just silver and black. You know, a friend showed
me once on his computer how he could calculate the distance to the
moon at any moment to within two feet. That's less than the length
of your arm. Almost makes you feel like you could touch it."
Well, he gets an A for effort. We just watched the moon for a
while. Then we looked at each other. He touched my hair and brushed
his finger against my cheek.
"I wish you could see what I see," he says. "The moonlight is so
pearly on your face and sparkling in your eyes and glistening in your
hair. And you'll never know how beautiful it makes you look."
Wow! Probably BS, but it made me feel good. Trouble was, what could
I say to him? Maybe like, hey the moonlight looks good on your bald
spot too? Actually, I really wanted to say something nice to him.
I'm so terrible with words when it counts.
"It's getting late," he says. We stand up again. "You know, Millie.
I had a wonderful time, and I'd really like to see you again -- I
mean soon. Maybe even as early as tomorrow morning. But I don't
want to pressure you into anything. I know some girls have a hard
time saying no to a guy even when that's what they want to say." He
pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. "It's got my home
number on the back. Call me if you feel the way I do. Yo can even
call me tonight if you like, or tomorrow or next week, or whenever you
decide."
What an awful thing for him to do. I hated it. Where would I ever
get the courage to call him? I almost wish he'd said "I'll call you,"
and never did. At least that'd be his fault.
He was still holding my hand. Placing the card in my other hand, he
clasped that one too. Then he looked into my eyes and hesitated,
like he couldn't decide whether to do it or not (Yes ... please ... I
want you to). Too bad he couldn't hear my thoughts. I flashed him
some big cow-eyes and my best approving little smile. He tugged
gently at my hands and pulled me near. He let go with his right hand
and cupped it behind my head. And then ...
Oh Diary. I've never been kissed like that before. If I told you I
had an orgasm I'd be lying, but this was better -- I mean it was
almost like an orgasm, all bubbly inside, except I felt it up here
instead of down there. And most of it came because I could tell he
felt it too. He let go my other hand and wrapped his arm around my
waist and squeezed so tight. And his right hand, supporting my head
like I was a baby -- I felt his fingers splay out and tangle into my
hair, all out of control. And his body heat was like a campfire on a
cold night. And it went on so long. And when our lips came apart,
he let out such an mmmmmh and pressed his cheek to mine and squeezed
some more. Then he kissed me on the cheek (Oh do some more -- please
-- make me faint away).
"Good night," he says. "You dropped my card." He picked it up for
me. I stared as he walked to his car. That card dangled from my
fingers. I even forgot to say thank you. I Just stood there and
watched him drive out of sight. Then gaped down the empty street.
Inside, Denise was sitting on the sofa in her nightie just like I
thought. "Girl, I am jea-lous," she says. "You gonna call him right
now? Let me see that card."
"You little devil. You've been listening haven't you. No I am not
going to call him right now. He's not even home yet. Besides, I'd
rather make him wait and think about it a little."
"You lie!" she says. "You wanna call him don't you. You wanna do it
bad. But there's a little bitch inside you that's just got to mess
with his head. Can't stand not bein' in control of yourself, huh? I
tell you this -- if his phone ain't ringin' when he comes in his door,
girl, you're a damn fool." She snatched the card out of my hand and
ran to the phone and dialed. "It's ringin'," she said.
"Put that down. Are you crazy?"
"Millie -- whose voice you want him to hear when he picks up, sugar?
Yours or mine? I ain't about to give you no other choices."
B-d-d-d-d-d-d. I could hear it ring. I tried to grab it from
her, but she's quick. B-d-d-d-d-d-d. I keep trying. Denise is
dodging and weaving and laughing and grinning. B-d-d-d-d-d-click --
Hello.
"Give me that -- hi, it's Millie ... Yeah, I don't mind getting up early
... Oh, that sounds wonderful ... See you then. Bye."
I hang up. "Denise. 'Cause of you I'm in real trouble now. We're
having breakfast on the beach. He's gonna see my big butt in a
swimsuit."
April 13
Dear Diary,
I didn't have to wake up early -- hardly slept. Put on my green tank
suit and a white terry robe over it. He picked me up before dawn,
wearing a long Hawaian print shirt.
We watched sky go pink over the water and the horizon thrusting up
orange beams, and then a dome of fire boiled up out of the sea, and
the water was a thousand orange and pink and purple and blue flower
petals simmering on the waves. I wasn't quite dressed for the
morning chill, but I snuggled up to Calvin and was plenty warm. We
were all alone. Barely a word passed between us during nature's
show. But it was perfect.
He brought along a camp stove and cooked waffles and sausages right
there on the beach, while the seagulls squawked and begged for our
food. We ate and talked about TV personalities.
"Who's your favorite woman on TV?" I asked.
"Oh, I'd just make you jealous if I told," he says. "So instead I'll
tell who my favorite man on TV is."
"All right, who's that?"
"It's Captain Picard," he says, "because he's sexy even though
he's bald."
"Okay then, Jean-Luc," I said. "Two can play this game. My favorite
woman on TV is Oprah, 'cause she's sexy even when she's fat."
"What a coincidence," he goes. "She's my favorite too."
"That's not fair! Well Captain Picard my favorite too. So there."
I kissed him on his temple, where his hair was thinnest.
We chased and splashed around the water's edge for a while, then we
got back to our blanket and snuggled some more. I wiggled my big
butt onto his lap. I guess he liked that, because he gave me a long
kss. I unbuttoned his shirt. He was wearing one of those tight
swimtrunks -- looked good in it too. And his chest was just what I
like -- not too much hair, and firm, but not huge like he was on
steroids. I wrapped my arms around him under his shirt. He hugged
me back, squishing my breasts against that chest. But then he got
tense again when I began to feel stirrings inside those trunks. I
guess that ruined the moment for him.
I wish he weren't so shy about that. I mean, he could have taken me
right there if he wanted. Not that I usually invite it on the
second date (or was this date number one and a half?). But he
wasn't even trying to get into my pants. And something about that
was a real turn on. Most of the jerks I've been dating would have
had their hands all over me by now.
On the way back, he played a CD -- some classical thing. "You like
Vivaldi?" he asked.
"I guess so," I said. Oh no. The BS is starting. I don't know
Vivaldi from Da Vinci. And the stuff was boring. What do I do?
"I like the Baroque period a lot," he began. "But I also like Chopin.
I think of him as the romantic Bach."
"What an insightful observation," I said. (Oh God. BS out of
control) There was a pause. "Look," I said. "I'm sorry for being
such a phony. Actually classical really isn't my cup of tea. When I
saw your video, I just thought you'd like the same music as I do."
"Really? I mentioned classical music on the video -- weren't you
listening?"
Oh why doesn't he just strip me naked and laugh at me? "Well I --
uhh -- I didn't watch the whole thing."
"Then you missed the part about me being an alien? Just kidding.
But really, what kind of music do you like?"
"You're gonna think I'm dumb, but I like Nat Cole and Johnny Mathis
and Barbara Steisand."
"That's not dumb at all."
"Oh, you're just saying that."
"No. You just named artists that have a deep understanding of their
music and know how to share it. Those are fine musicians."
We were home. "Please come in this time," I said. "My roomie is at
church with her mom. She won't be back for hours."
Thank God I didn't have to beg him. Once inside he goes, "Did you
like slow-dancing last night."
"Yes. A lot."
"Would you like to do it again right now?"
"I'd love to."
"Will you trust me on something?" I nodded. "I smuggled in one of
my CD's," he says. "It maybe not your cup of tea. But will you have
this dance with me please?"
"What is it?" Like that'd make a difference to me.
"It's the second movement of Mozart Piano Concerto number twenty-one.
They used it in the movie, Elvira Madigan."
"Never seen it."
"Actually, neither have I, but everyone knows the music by that name."
He put the CD in the machine and took me by the hand.
"Before we start," I said, "could I get you to trust me on something?
This is hard for me to talk about, but here goes. When we touch --
you see, you don't have to back away if you, er ... you know ...
respond. Really. It doesn't offend me. I mean, it's what's supposed to
happen. I'd be kinda disappointed if it didn't." Couldn't beliee I
actually got that out.
He just looked blankly at me (we'll never get past this will we?).
The music started. I slipped my robe off and let it drop. (Oh
Calvin -- please don't think I'm fat) He smiled and put his arms
around me. His shirt was still unbuttoned and I slipped my hands
around his bare back. He held me close and we swayed to notes that
were as slow and sparkling as dewdrops dripping from a tree, each one
making me thirst after the next. He cradled my head again, just like
last night, and pressed his cheek and his lips into my hair. My
eyelids drifted closed. I nuzzled into his neck. He smelled fresh,
like the beach we had just come from. I pressed against him, and
he began to respond again. But he HAD listened and trusted. When it
began, he pulled me closer and tighter and sighed and relaxed in my
arms. And he got really hard this time. It stretched against his
trunks and pressed into my tummy. Our thighs entwine and we're
hardly dancing anymore, just holding each other. Oh, Diary -- so
many things I wanted to do just then. I wanted to pull my swimsuit
straps down and press my bare nipples into his chest. I wanted to
reach down and touch that hard thing, or better still, rub my tummy
against it till it squirts and he sighs and collapses in my arms.
Why doesn't he just pull me to the floor and do me right there on the
carpet? But I'm afraid if I do anything but just hold on it might
spoil the feeling. It's that same wonderful feeling as he gave
me last night when he kissed me, except this time it lasts longer,
and I have to admit, this time there's some bubbly down there too
-- lots of bubbly. He puts one hand on my butt and begins stroking my
hair with the other. I can't tell which of us is trembling. I
drift. I imagine I'm a kitten in his arms. He's stroking my
fur. I clutch his back with my nails, one hand then the other,
again and again. If only I knew how to purr. And I can't open my
eyes -- I'm afraid they'll fill with tears of joy. And that
music, so full of longing and tenderness. It feels like it's a part
of him, each note one of his fingers or his lips caressing my
eyelids, my neck, my breasts, my thighs, my -- you know -- caressing
me there so gently, assuring that all of me, especially that part,
is safe with him. If only the music didn't stop. I'd still be
there in his arms, or maybe rolling on the carpet with him. He
kisses me again, long and wet with lots of tongue. Then he backs
away, and there's the tiniest of wet spots on his bulging trunks.
And he goes, "You're a wonderful dancer. Can I call you during the
week?"
"Oh please stay," I begged.
"I wish I could, but I'm already late. I have lunch with my family
every Sunday. They're expecting me."
What is wrong with this guy -- or worse -- what's wrong with me?
Every other guy I've ever met would be a slave to his penis by now.
His family's gonna make him feel like this?
"Calvin. Call me any time." (Please please) "And could I borrow
that CD?"
"No borrowing allowed," he said. "It's yours to keep." He kissed me
again. His bulge was already going down. "Goodbye, Millie. I'll
think about you all week, Kitten." (Kitten? If I don't sit down I
think I'll faint)
I could have cried when he left, but there was something more urgent
that needed doing. I just had to give myself a little tickle. I was
burning for it. I usually don't write down about this -- we're
supposed to be conserving trees, you know -- but today was
different. I had actually wanted to last night after he left, but
Denise was here and the walls here are like paper (though it's not
like I've never heard her at it late at night when she thought I was
asleep). I put the music on again and didn't even undress. I just
flopped on the sofa and closed my eyes and stuck my fingers through
the leg-holes of my swimsuit and thought about Calvin slow-dancing
with me. It brought back the magical feeling, only this time I kept
it up until all my bubblies burst at once. Afterward I shared kisses
and a few happy tears with the cushion and fell asleep.
Denise woke me coming in the door.
"How was your beach breakfast, lovergirl?" she says. "Ooooo! Look
at your smile. I don't believe it. Little miss don't-touch-me did it
with him, didn't she."
"It was beautiful. And you have a dirty mind."
"We both got dirty minds, girl. I just got a mouth to match -- at
least among us girls. So tell, sister, is he good?"
"We didn't do it. You won't believe this. I wanted to, but he
wouldn't take the bait. Why can't a girl just come out and say 'Fuck
me?'"
"You might try, 'Fuck me, please.' You know, I sure wish I had
your problem. The guys I always get are all dick and no manners."
"You know, I feel kinda like a slut wanting it so bad. But I just
want it with him. I can't figure out why he doesn't want to though.
We were all romantic and cozy and he was so hard, then he just
leaves. Is there something wrong with me? I know the butt's a
little big, but the equipment works just fine. Why would a guy do
that?"
"You could try askin' him?"
Easy advice to give. I'd like to see her do it.
April 14
Dear Diary,
Calvin called me after work today. I tried to make suggestive
conversation so I could lead up to asking him Denise's question, but
I couldn't bring myself to -- not over the phone. Just chit-chat.
Gave him my work number. He called me Kitten again.
April 16
Dear Diary,
Had lunch with Calvin today. He took me to an outdoor cafe. Again,
I tried to be coy with my words and flopped completely. I don't
think he was listening anyway. He was too busy gazing into my eyes
with that little boy look. Anyway, when we got up to leave, he held
my chair, and as I stood up, he stuck is face into my hair and buried
his lips in my neck. Made me all goose-fleshy. I piped out a little
scream too, right there in front of everybody. If it had been
anybody else, I think I would have stomped on his foot and stormed
out. But as he put his arm around my waist and we walked away with
everybody staring, I just thought to myself, stare all you want,
people. All this bubbly is mine and you can't have it.
April 17
Dear Diary,
Ooooo Calvin. How romantic. Pink sweetheart roses delivered to me
at work.
"For Millie,
The lilly so fair blooms but for one day,
And the blush of the rose is soon gone away.
But the warmth of the flame that burns in your breast,
The light in your eyes and the kiss they suggest,
The scent of your hair and other joys of your making
Are each night in my dreams and remain in my waking."
Talk about having to stifle bubblies. Yapping dogs and rude customers
couldn't stop these.
April 19
Dear Diary,
Calvin's gonna pick me up for a surprise date this afternoon. No idea
where he's taking me. We're having such a warm spell. I'm going to
wear my blue and white cotton summer dress. It's so light and soft
it makes me feel like a little girl again. And nothing hides my
biggest liability better.
Dear Diary,
This turned out to be an unusual date. It seems that the part of
his video I missed had something in it about a private pilot's license.
He rented a plane and we were off into the wild blue.
He flew us low along the beach. It's so different from the air. Then
he flew up and up. My ears popped and the cabin got chilly.
Then all of a sudden, he goes, "Here, you take it."
"You mean the ..."
"Go ahead. Fly it for a while."
"No -- you don't really want me to do that, do you?"
"Actually I hate giving up the controls, but it's a tradition that
a newcomer has to fly a little. You wouldn't want to bring us bad
luck, would you? It's easy." He took his hands off the contols.
"See, it flies itself. Now just grip the yoke gently. There, that's
good. Now if you pull back it starts up and forward sends you down.
Look at the altimeter. It says thirty-seven hundred. Try to keep
it there."
He was right. I wasn't doing anything and the plane kept flying
just fine.
"Now the important thing," he says, "is to concentrate, no matter
what happens. Even if some guy comes over and starts touching you."
He began stroking my hair.
"Stop it!"
"Just concentrate. Eyes forward. Thirty-seven hundred. Oh, your
delectable today. I could take a bite of you right here. But just
ignore me." He kissed me on the cheek.
"You're going to get us killed," I said.
"Oh a little kiss wouldn't do that," he says. "It would take
something like this." He put his face into me and licked right up my
neck and behind my ear.
"Aaaooo!" I jerked. The seat damn near dropped out from under me,
and my stomach floated into my chest. And when I saw the ground
coming at us, I nearly wet myself. Next thing, I'm pressed down into
the seat. Calvin's flying again. The plane levels out. And he's
laughing.
"Don't ever do that again! I thought I was gonna die -- really."
"It's okay. You only lost a thousand feet. Isn't this fun?"
I folded my arms and didn't speak again till we landed. I surely
wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how hot the
licking and the jolt and the scare and his rescuing us made me.
Besides, it was more fun listening to him beg forgiveness all the way
down. When we were parked, he went and opened the door for me. I
pretended to trip and fall into his arms. He gave me such a hug and
pressed his cheek to mine. Mmmmm.
Denise was here when we got back. After introductions, Calvin and I
sat on the sofa and Denise got her sketch book and began drawing us.
After about twenty minutes she folded the book and dropped it in my
lap.
"Hope you lovebirds won't miss me," she says, "but the mall awaits."
She left.
"Let's see what she drew," says Calvin.
I cracked open the cover and looked.
"Well, let's see," he insisted.
"No way," I said.
"What, she put warts on you? Let's see."
"She drew us nude," I said.
"Really. I hope she got my good side. C'mon, show me. It can't be
that bad."
"Well, all right, but don't laugh." I flipped it open. "She made me
look fat," I said.
"No she didn't. I'll bet she's been studying the Renaissance. Your
figure was in style back then. You could have been a cover girl."
"So you do think I'm fat, don't you."
"Not a bit. I like you this way. Really. I don't like skinny ones.
It looks so unnatural. You just think you're fat 'cause covergirls
are too thin. You're perfect just the way you are."
"You'd swear to that?"
"Cross my heart. What's more, here's a secret that's known among
just a few of us guys and we don't usually share it with any woman.
Sexiness comes from the inside. Even if you did get fat, you'd still
be sexy."
"So I'm sexy now? You've never said that before. Sexy -- really?"
"Always have been. From your head down to your toes."
I squirmed around so I was lying on the sofa with my legs draped over
his knees. "These toes?" I wiggled them. He began rubbing my feet.
His fingers kneeded deep into the flesh. "Mmmmm. That's nice,
Calvin. Show me some other sexy parts."
He started kissing on my ankle and up my leg to my knee. But he
stopped there.
I grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on the hem of my dress. He
picked up a handful of the cloudlike material, and pressed it to his
face, and kissed it, and pretended to eat it. Then he rested his
head on my lap and nuzzled it. Gently I pulled the hem until it
slipped from under his face and he was kissing my thighs. He laid
both hands on my them. His fingertips began fussing over my skin.
They kneeded at my thighs the way they had at my feet. I kept
pulling my dress up.
"Look," I said. "The tide's going out. Think you can find some
pretty shells in the sand?"
He followed the hem up my thigh, kissing as he went. But he stopped
when my dress slipped up to my panties. He sat up and his eyes
opened wide. The hem kept sliding past the low waist band. Now my
tummy was bare too. He ran two fingers over my belly button, and
kissed me there. It tickled -- made me squeal a little. And my
breath was all puffy.
"I think I found one," he says.
"Ohh! There's a bigger one nearby," I said. I had to take a breath to
speak again. "These panties are just for you," I said. "Nice and
soft -- like petting a bunny-rabbit." He hesitated, but he did it.
He ran his fingers along the elastic, and then along the legband and
down my bare thigh and back up. He kissed my thighs again, one then
the other. Then he smoothed the panties' front panel, over and over,
in circles, back and forth from hip to hip, a little lower each time,
now from thigh to thigh. Oh -- bubbly bubbly bubbly -- he's kissing
my tummy again. I close my eyes. Now he's kissing at the tops of my
panties. I swirl my fingers in his hair. His fingers keep going
lower. Getting closer and bubblier. Now he's reached it, touching
it, but still on the outside, on one side then the other, pressing
gently, caressing tiny circles. I open my thighs. And, yes, he's
found it. His finger is pushing the fabric into my fold. I can feel
my dampness seeping through. And he's pulsing it slowly, gently,
firmly. His other fingers are massaging me on the outside. And the
one finger is kneeding deep into my secret place. And his lips are
so near it, pressing at my panties, pinching softly at the cotton.
My lungs need more air. I open my mouth to breath. I can hear
myself heaving sighs. Oh Calvin -- burst my bubblies, please. My
lips curl out. My butt squirms. My toes ball up. Make me come,
Calvin. Do it. Melt me with your touch. I spread my thighs wide.
And ...
He stops. You're just teasing aren't you, Calvin. This isn't funny.
Do some more, okay? Not later. Keep going -- do it now. No, he's
really stopping. He's lifting his head. He's taking his hand away.
"Ohh -- ohh -- why'd you stop?"
"It's not time yet," he says.
"What do you mean, not time? Is this all bullshit to you?" I push
my dress back down again and shove his hand away. Tears are flooding
in. "Can't you see? I want you, boy. I want you so bad. Do I
disgust you or something. Why won't you make love to me? Why? Is
my ass too big for you? You think I'm a slut? Oh God, I've never
wanted anyone more than you. Can't you tell? What's the matter?
Does your dick not work? You already have a girl? Or are you some
kinda a faggot?"
"I do know how much you want it -- I CAN tell, 'cause I want it that
much too."
"Oh bullshit!"
"And the answer to all that other stuff is no. I'm sorry if I upset
you." He tried to smooth my hair.
"Don't touch me!"
He let me sob for a little while. Then he says, "Will you sit quiet,
please, while I tell you a little story?"
"It better be good." I straightened up and sniffled.
"Okay. When I was in sixth grade and my sister was in fourth, we
went to a private school and we had to take the city bus home each
day. There was a fifth grade girl named Angi who rode the same bus
and we all became friends. Except with me the feeling was a more
than friendship, and it was the first time I'd ever had a feeling
like that.
"Anyway, one Friday, Angi took the bus to our house to spend the
weekend with my sister. Well Angi began spending more time with me
than with her. My sister, of course, was livid. Saturday night, I
was watching television while my sister and Angi had a bath
together. Angi comes out in this flannel nightie with pink flowers,
and her hair was all wet, and she sat down next to me on the sofa and
rested her head on my shoulder, and she snuggled up. I was shaking
with terror, but it felt good too, and I did what the feeling told me
to. I wrapped my arm around her and I pressed my cheek against her
wet hair. And I just melted. Her shampoo smelled so delicious, and
I could feel the dampness from her hair soaking through my shirt, and
her face was soft and smooth, and her breath was breezing against my
neck, and none of these things can begin to tell you about how I felt
like I was soaring high above the highest mountain. I was so young
and all this tingly stuff whooshing around in me was so new. And I
just sat there with my heart pounding and this exquisite creature
pressed against me until it was time for her to go off to bed.
"And since then, there have been other women in my life, and I think
I've combined the male and female anatomies with them in every way
imaginable. And even with all that, not one of them -- ever -- has
even come within sight of making me feel as warm and tingly and
satisfied as Angi did on that night long ago. Not one.
"That is ... until last week when I met you. Those other women,
when I had sex with them -- within a few weeks I was already thinking
about marrying them, 'cause I thought I was in love and someday the
feeling would grow to match what I had on that one night with Angi.
And then each one broke my heart. But with you, I don't have to wait
for the feeling. All I have to do is dance with you.
"I'm falling in love with you, Millie, and I want this fall to
stretch out a long time. Don't cut it off. And I want more than
anything for you to share the thrill and soar with me. The sky
is ours. Come whoosh through the clouds with me. That's what I
want."
I had stopped crying. "You know, I think you ARE Jean-Luc Picard.
That's just what he's been doing with Beverly for the last three
seasons."
He thought that was pretty funny.
"Okay, Jean-Luc," I said. "You stand forgiven. Whatever this Angi
thing is, it sounds like you know what you want."
"It's not an Angi thing, it's a Millie thing."
"Well I guess I can live with it for now. So you can have your way
for a while. But remember, your story just makes me want you even
more. I'll have my way in the end, you know."
"Yes, I know that. It'll be my way too."
"And I won't break your ..."
"Shhh. It's too soon to be making promises."
Dear Diary,
It's late at night and I can't sleep.
I hate you, Angi! I hate you I hate you. I bet you grew into a real
bitch. Oh how I hate you.
April 20
Dear Diary,
When Denise got back from church today, I told her all about what had
happened between Calvin and me yesterday. I couldn't believe it.
Her eyes actually got damp when I repeated that Angi-story -- I mean,
she's usually so flip about everything.
"So now," I said, "I have to compete with a ten-year-old, and the
only way to drive her out is to drag him into bed. And he won't
go."
"Yeah, strange turn about there."
"So you're my closest confidant. How do I coax him?"
"You're askin' me? You see 'em lining up at my boudoir?"
"Well, I respect your opinion anyway."
"Okay. I'll give you my bad advice, but only 'cause you ask. Leave
the ten-year-old alone. You already done beat her. Make him talk to
you. The more you make him open up, the more he'll want you. Ask him
real personal stuff 'bout how he feels about you."
"Like what?"
"He's your boyfriend. I have to do everything?" She thought for a
moment then giggled. "Okay. Ask him if he jerks off when he's
thinkin 'bout you."
"Yeah, right. But seriously. I need something good to ask."
"Hey. I am serious, girl. He really likes you. He ain't gonna run
away just 'cause you ask him a hard question."
"That's what you'd do?"
"Hell no. I'd wait him out. But I bet it'd work. Another thing you
might try is tellin' him you love him."
"I can't do that. I'm not ready. Besides, he hasn't said it to me
yet."
"Listen to yourself, girl."
April 22
Dear Diary,
Mom called Sunday night. Said she wanted to meet him. So we all had
lunch today at that outdoor cafe. Calvin was so cool with her. He
talked to her like he'd always known her -- and not with all the
hesitation he always gives me. And Mom loved it. She sat there with
a grin like I had just made valedictorian or something. On the way
out, she pinched my arm.
"Just wanted to remind you you're not dreaming, Honey," she says.
April 23
Dear Diary,
Denise is still at her art class -- won't be back till late. I just
got off the phone with Calvin. You won't believe what happened.
I called him. He picked up and we talked about stuff at work for
a while. Then all of a sudden he kisses me over the phone.
"What's that for," I said.
"Just 'cause I miss you," he says.
"You miss me when you're at work too?"
"Of course," he says. "But I miss you even more when I'm alone in my
apartment. When the phone rang and it was you, it was the answer to
a prayer."
"I'll tell you a secret. I miss you too. I think about you all the
time -- at work, watching TV, even in the bath."
"The bath? Really? I think about you all the time too -- especially
when I'm going to sleep."
"Calvin. I'm in bed right now. Where are you?"
"I was reading a book -- lying on my bed."
"Calvin -- would you promise not to be embarrassed if I ask you
something?"
"I'll try."
"Okay," I said. "When you're alone, like now, and you're thinking
about me and ... uh ... oh forget it -- I can't say it!"
"Sure you can."
"No. It's stupid."
"Well you've got to now. You've peaked my curiosity."
"No. Do I have to?"
"I'll keep bugging you."
"Promise you'll give me an honest answer and not think I'm stupid?"
"Promise."
"Okay. Here goes. When you're alone and you're thinking about me, do
you get excited over me?"
"Very excited, my Kitten. That wasn't stupid at all."
"I'm not done yet. So when you're excited like that, do you ever ...
you know ... like, uh, do yourself?"
"Wow. That's a helluva thing to ask."
"You promised."
"I did promise. But I think you already know the answer, don't you?"
"Don't try to wiggle out of it. Yes or no?"
"Yes -- yes. Especially if I've just been with you. I couldn't
sleep if I didn't. You drive me crazy. You don't think it's
strange, do you?"
"Oh no. It's romantic." I couldn't believe it. Not that he'd
answered -- I knew Denise was right about that -- but that I had
actually pressed it till he did. "I'll tell you another secret," I
said. "I do it too. Whenever Denise is out. I imagine we're
dancing. I play that music you gave me."
"You do? That's exciting. You know, I think about the dancing a lot
too."
I was on a roll. "Were you going to do it tonight?" I asked.
"I don't know. Were you?"
"I asked you first. You were, weren't you? You know ... are you
thinking what I'm thinking?"
"No. Don't. I don't think we should."
"I really want to. You were thinking it too, weren't you? I know you
were. It's not like we'd really be doing it. It's just pretend. I
know you want to."
"I don't know."
"Don't be a partypooper. It's what your kitten wants, and I'll start
without you if you don't ... I'm sticking my fingers in my panties
now. Wish they were your fingers." (Is this really me, or did some
porn queen just jump into my skin?)
"Millie. Why do you do stuff like this to me?"
Poor Calvin. But it was so much fun to be in control, and he was
making it easy. For once I felt like a sexy adult woman instead of a
scared girl.
"I'm making you hard again, aren't I?" I said. "Don't be ashamed. I
want you Calvin, my sweet. Go ahead. Put your hand on it. You were
gonna do it anyway, weren't you?"
"Oh Kitten. Your voice is so lovely ..."
"Your fingers, baby. Are you touching it?"
"Yes, Kitten. I'm doing it for you."
"Ooooo! Don't do it for me. Enjoy yourself. Ohh! My panties are
off now. Yes sweetie!"
"Oh, Millie. I want you next to me," He sounded like a child
calling for his mother.
"Oh! Feels so bubbly. Ooooh. Do it with me. Breathe for me.
Yes, Calvin! Mmmmm! My legs are open for you. Ohh!"
"Mmmmm! I want to squeeze you, Kitten. And kiss you. Uhh! You feel
so soft, baby. Unh! Uhh!"
His sighs made it easy to imagine it was his fingers prodding in my
secret place, his fingers squishing through my wetness, his fingers
foaming my bubblies till they tickled all through me, up to my lips
and my eyelids, and down to my toes, his fingers bursting them like a
breaker curling over and thundering up the beach. And when his
bubblies burst at the same time, I had to push my face into the
pillow so he wouldn't hear me call out, "I love you."
Then we breathed into the phone for a while. And I asked him,
"Sweetie, what would you be doing now if we really had just made
love?"
"Am I still sworn to honesty?"
"Forever, babe."
"And you won't be embarrassed?"
"Just tell me."
"Well, I don't know how to put this," he says. "You see, we wouldn't
have made love yet?"
"Oh, don't start with this again. What do you mean?"
"Because I wouldn't have taken your pussy out of my mouth yet."
(Did I have the right phone number? Even though I hate that word,
"pussy," it was still a delicious shock to hear him admit how much
he wanted mine. At least he didn't use that awful c-word)
"Ooooo! Why didn't you tell me that before?" I said. "I never
thought you'd be the type for that. Now I'm all excited again. You'd
really want to lick that just to bring me joy."
"Actually, I'm selfish. It's just a happy coincidence that it brings
you joy too. Oh Millie, I -- I ... I just want you near me."
April 24
Dear Diary,
Damn! Calvin has to go to Cleveland Saturday on some family affair.
I wish he had told me earlier. I was really looking forward to seeing
him this weekend, and not with all his aunts and cousins.
April 25
Dear Diary,
Called Calvin at work during lunch. Told him I had to see him
tonight before he leaves.
"But I have to work late," he says. "By the time I get cleaned up,
I won't be to your place until a little before nine."
"Okay. Be at my place at nine then."
"So where do you want to go?"
"Calvin, how 'but we just stay in and watch videos? And wear
that jacket you wore in your video, but with a white shirt and
a blue tie and light pants."
He agreed to everything. After work I went shopping. First to get
the video. Took four stores before I found what I wanted. Then to
lingerie shops. The second one had what I wanted. Then to the
laundrymat to wash my new purchase in lots of fabric softener. Then
to the drugstore to get some real fragrant shampoo. Then I scarfed
some fast food, and home again.
I cashed in my coupon with Denise. She's going to spend the night at
her mom's. By the time she left, it was about eight. So here I am,
writing this in the bathtub, feeling like a real schemer for setting
up this trap for him. But I know it'll work, and I know it's really
what he wants.
Dear Diary,
I'm out of the bath now. My hair's nice and wet and and smells like
a flower garden. I patted it with the towel just enough to stop it
dripping, and then combed it out smooth.
I went a little crazy shaving my legs. I'm looking at the result in
the mirror. I look strange this way. And I'm not sure it will have
the desired effect. To really look like his precious Angi, I'd have
to also shave off my tits and half my ass.
I dab my best perfume between my breasts and on my tummy and thighs.
Oh -- there's the doorbell.
April 26
Dear Diary,
So here's what happened. You should have seen his face when I
answered the door wearing a flannel nightie with pink flowers and a
pink ribbon that ties up in a little bow in front to hold the top
closed. And my wet hair was already making water stains on the
shoulders.
He stood in the doorway and just stared at me, first at my nightie,
then into my eyes. His eyes had that little boy look again.
But when I looked at the rest of him, he was Jean-Luc. God, did he
look good. Can I dress 'em or what? I wanted to jump on him right
there where he stood.
"Come in and sit down, Sweetie," I said.
"Aren't you going to get dressed?"
"I am dressed. Sit down on the sofa and kick your shoes off while
I start the video. It was the devil finding this." I held it up.
"Elvira Madigan?"
"Sit." I put the video on and sat down next to him with my legs
folded and yards of white and pink flannel draped over them. Before
the opening credits were done, I had unbuttoned his jacket and lay my
head against the shoulder of his white shirt and slipped my arms
under the jacket and pressed my cheek into his neck. He wrapped his
arm around me, and I was all cozy inside his lapel. All to the
strains of that haunting music.
I actually saw some of the movie out of the corner of my eye -- a
shameless tear-jerker. I liked it, even though those lovers were
awfully stupid. But I don't think Calvin was watching. I kept
glancing up at him. He was always looking at me. And he kept
touching my nightie. His hand would quiver as he reached for it.
And he'd take a pinch of it in his fingers and swish it around in his
hand and let it go again. Then he'd kiss my hair and kiss the sleeve
and kiss my cheek or nibble my ear, and then take another piece of
nightie. And each time, his touch would brush through to my
skin somewhere. And I'd go mmmmm, and then he'd go mmmmm right in my
ear. Time after time he padded through my nightie, touching me
everywhere. First on my side, then my tummy, then my leg, then my
shoulder, then my breast, and my leg again, and once even -- okay
I'll use the word I like for it -- on my vulva. But it wasn't like
he was feeling me up or anything. It was a light incidental touch
through the cloth, like he was touching any other part of me, and I
didn't care if he fondled or not because it was already more bubbly
than that time he did. And I did the same for him -- let my hand
wander over his chest and his face and his legs, and now and then
over that stiff bulge in his trousers, just because, like everything
else, it needed touching too.
By the end of the movie, his shirt was so wet from my hair I could see
his chest through it. The closing credits played our music again. I
struggled up and took his hand.
"Care to dance?" I asked.
He slipped off the jacket. I loosened his tie as he approached.
He was all misty-eyed, and I know it wasn't from that silly movie.
He didn't say a word. He just got up and took me in his arms and
squeezed me, and rubbed his face against my cheek, and I could feel
his tears smearing on my skin, and he kissed me, and rubbed again.
And even with all those bubblies trapped under my nightie, there
was something more, something in those happy tears and shaking hands,
something I never knew I wanted from a man, that only Calvin could
ever bring me.
Yet those bubblies were stronger than ever. And that hard bulge
pressing against my tummy frothed them up. And I did rub against it
this time. And he rubbed back. And the flannel smoothed up and down
my tummy. And each time, that sweet noise he made blended with the
music, and he'd kiss me again. And the bubblies frothed even more.
And finally, he whispers, "Millie. I can't believe you did all this
for me tonight. I just want to hold you forever."
"So do I," I said. "But you have to tell me this -- I do I measure up
to that Angi, don't I?"
"Angi? She's just a little girl from a long time ago. Oh Kitten, why
would I want Angi when, out of all the choices everywhere, Millie,
with the silken hair and the longing eyes and the pouty lips and the
turtledove touch and the heart like all the earth and sky, has chosen
me."
"Oh Calvin. Thank you. You've said the most perfect words I ever
wanted to hear."
He set his hand over my buns and pulled me closer.
"You forgot, 'Millie with the huge butt,'" I said.
"You mean Millie with the perfect, round-apple, heart-shaped derriere."
And he tucked that hand under both buns and pressed gently.
And I said, "I'm going to tell you something, and then I want you to
do something for me, okay?"
He nodded.
I pulled out of his embrace and took his hand.
"You see this ribbon on my collar. I'm wrapping it around your finger.
And when I've said what I have to say, I want you to decide what to
do with it and then do it right away."
"I'm ready," he says. "Say it."
"I love you, Calvin. It's like I've never been in love before."
"I love you too, Millie. You make everything brand new again."
He pulls gently on the pink ribbon. The bow slips out and the
nightie falls open. His hands float into the open collar and slide
the sleeves off my shoulders. All those pretty pink flowers floof to
the floor. The warmth trapped under them escapes. The cool touch of
the air ripples goose flesh over my naked skin. He steps back and,
with huge little-boy eyes, looks into my eyes, then slowly down the
length of me.
"Millie," he says. "Good God, you're beautiful."
He throws his arms around me and kisses my face over and over till
he's blanketed my lips and my cheeks and my ears with wet spots.
Then he presses his lips into my neck, then between my breasts, then
kisses their tips and licks circles around each nipple and slowly
runs his tongue between them, down my tummy. It makes me shudder. He
drops to his knees. His hands sweep down my shoulders and over my
breasts and down my sides and hold me by my waist. His lips slink
down further, over my belly button, stopping to kiss it, then down,
and he kisses me where my panty-elastic would have been. His arms
close around my buns, and he hugs me and presses his face to me and I
can feel his joyous tears blotting onto my tummy. He kisses -- all
tickly -- just barely touching his lips, down and down. He pauses
and stares at the flesh before his face. I press my hands to the
back of his head. And his lips open -- and now I feel them softly
pressing to my vulva, and his tongue ... oh, I hear sweet mewing
sounds leaking from my throat. And I'm shivering with endless
bubblies bursting all over.
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