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Thomas 28


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.
This story is another from the archives, and is not written by me.
Requests for just about anything concerning these posts will be ignored.
See the FAQ in a.s.s.d for more information. And stop sending talk
requests. Even when I'm logged in to this posting site, I usually
have the window closed, and if I don't, it's because I'm WORKING

Thomas' Story: Cumin' of Age
------------------------------
by T. F. Yank

----------------------------[ Disclaimer ]-----------------------
The following story is purely fictitious. Any resemblance to real
life simply means I got lucky. It contains consensual and non-
consensual sex between minors (High School). If such things offend
you, please hit 'N' or however you abort reading messages on your
system.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
*** W A R N I N G ***
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

There is a particularly _UGLY_ rape scene depicted in chapters 23 -
26. You may wish to skip these chapters if you find such subject
matter offensive.

-----o0o-----

Due to the length of the entire story (37 chapters in all), Please
do not ask me to e-mail you any parts that you might have missed.
Comments, criticisms (constructive or not), and even flames are
permissable however. (Hell, I've been here for a while and STILL
haven't received even one flame. Starting to feel left out [grin])
----------------------------[ Enjoy ]-----------------------

-- Chapter Twenty-Eight

As Thomas approached his house, he wondered if his mother had left
for work yet.
He went around back, and wiped his eyes on his jacket sleeve. He
hoped he didn't look too bad, as he went in.
"Mom?" he called.
"Thomas? Is that you? I thought you were on your way to school.
Is something wrong?" his mother answered, as she came rushing to the
back door. "My God, Thomas, what's the matter? You've been crying.
Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay, Mom. I didn't hurt myself."
"But you're upset. What's the matter? You've been crying for a
reason."
"I kinda got some bad news. And I guess I was pretty upset. But
I'm okay now, really."
"Bad news? What bad news?" his mother asked, concerned.
"I just found out that . . . er . . . a friend is in the hospital.
I guess it kinda shook me up a bit."
"In the hospital? Who? Please Thomas, who's in the hospital and
why?"
"Well, a girl from my class was raped last night and . . ."
"Raped? Who was it?"
"I'm not sure if you know her. Debbie? Debbie Williams? She lives
over on Yorkshire Drive."
"Oh that one," his mother said. "Doesn't surprise me in the least.
She always dressed and acted like a little tramp."
Thomas was shocked by his mother's words.
"You shouldn't concern yourself about girls like her," his mother
continued. "They only get what they ask for. Daughters of Satan draw
the worst."
"My god, she was attacked, raped. How can you say that? She was a
good girl."
"Now Thomas. There are still things you have to learn. Things you
don't fully understand. Little tramps like that practically go around
asking to be treated that way. Why else do they paint their faces, and
dress to show off their evil bodies."
"It's all well and good, you being concerned for this girl. But
when you're older, you'll realize that some people are just down right
sinful."
"You don't know her, Mom. She's not like that at all."
"And how would you know? Surely you don't associate with girl like
her?"
"Well I . . . er . . . I know her from school," he answered.
Suddenly, he was afraid of what she would say if she knew about him and
Debbie.
"You really shouldn't have anything to do with such trash."
"She's not trash," he protested.
"Don't contradict me, young man. Of course she's trash. Why else
would someone do what they did? She probably led the poor fool on,
teasing him, until he could do nothing else."
"No, you're wrong. She isn't like that at all. She's sweet and
kind. She'd never do anything like that."
"My poor Thomas. Someday you'll see there are evil people in the
world. And you must always be on your guard against them. For they
are the children of Satan. Their only purpose to entice good people
like us away from God."
He fought hard to keep from crying again. He felt frustrated not
being able to explain to his mother about Debbie.
"Now I want you to forget about this girl. She got what she
deserved. No more, no less. God punishes those who disobey his
Commandments," his mother said as she took her handkerchief and wiped
his face.
Thomas jerked away from her touch. He looked at his mother, and
anger filled him. "You don't know what you're talking about. Debbie
isn't like that at all. She's a good girl. And she's my girlfriend,"
he said. He stared at her defiantly.
"Your what? You're not serious. You're much too young for anything
like that. I forbid it."
"You can't forbid it. It is. We are. We love each other.
Something you've forgotten all about, if you even knew how," he
challenged.
"How dare you talk to me like that," she exclaimed, slapping his
face. "What do you know of love? What do you know of the sacrifices?
The pain? You know nothing," she screamed at him.
"You're half right. In this house, I never learned anything about
love. Just hatred and bitterness. Debbie showed me what love's all
about. All you ever showed me was how to condemn, how to judge. She's
shown me kindness. And how to enjoy life," Thomas replied softly. He
turned to leave.
"Where do you think you're going, young man? Get back here. I want
a full apology for the disgusting way you are acting."
Thomas walked slowly out the door. His mind flooded with emotions--
fear, anger and pain. He knew if he looked back at her, he would lose
everything.
"Get back here at once," she yelled at him. "You can't leave me
like this. You ungrateful child. Just like your father. Enticed by
the Devil's slut. Seduced by the spread legs of his whore."
Once Thomas turned the corner of the house, he broke into a run.
His mother's screams broke the stillness of the quiet morning.
"You can't leave me alone like this. I'm your mother. Please
Thomas, come back."
He covered his ears with his hands to block out her words. Tears
flowed from his eyes, blinding him. But he couldn't go back. His
Debbie needed him. And he knew that she was good. His mother was
wrong.
He felt guilty about the way he had treated his mother. But he knew
in his heart, she was wrong. Debbie was not trash, nor a child of the
Devil. If anyone was, he was. It was he who couldn't control his
urges.
But he realized that right now, he was only worried about Debbie.
He knew she needed him. Needed someone to hold her, and tell her she
was loved. His heart ached with the need to be with her.
He continued to run, not aware of his surroundings. Finally, he
could run no further. His heart was pounding against his ribs as his
lungs fought for air. He looked around, and was surprised to discover
he was in the park. In front of him was the grove of pine trees where
he and Debbie had spent their first time together.
Glancing around to make certain no one was watching, he scrambled
beneath the low branches. Once within the protective ring of trees, he
lay down on the bed of pine needles. His gaze took in every detail,
comparing it to the first time he had been here.
Tears blurred his vision as he remembered how sweet Debbie had been
that night. And how pretty she had looked in the dim light as she had
removed her clothing. He remembered how frightened he had felt. How
unsure he had been, until she showed him what to do. And the feelings
she had stirred in him, when she first touched him. How his heart
nearly burst when she told him how he wasn't like other guys she had
dated.
She had been everything he ever dreamed a girl would be. She had
been soft, gentle, and understanding. Her patience with his
inexperience was something he never expected. Obviously she knew so
much more than he did. Yet, she never made fun of him.
The feel of her skin against his, her sweet taste, they were more
than anything he ever imagined. Even his wildest dreams had not
prepared him for the feel of her lips and mouth on his penis. Her
willingness, no, her eagerness to please was something that at first
frightened him.
But he soon realized it was merely her way of showing affection.
And he was too willing to return those feelings in the same manner. He
remembered the afternoon at Louanne's house. The moment when he
finally realized he loved her.
Even now he did not doubt it was the physical relationship at first
which had prompted him to tell her he loved her. But having said the
words, it was as if some barrier inside of him had been broken.
Somehow she had freed his heart from whatever had made it impossible
for him to feel love.
And in that instant, he did love. For the first time in his life,
he knew what it was to love, and be loved. Seeing her there pleading
with him, offering herself to him, had made him realize he did love
her. Not because of what she had promised if he said it. But because
she would make that sacrifice simply for love.
She'd shown him what it was like to be totally unselfish. To want
someone so much, you'd do anything for them. And at that moment, he
wanted to do everything he could for her. Not to her. But for her.
He wanted to protect her and make her happy. And he wanted to spend
the rest of his life with her.
But when she needed him most, he hadn't been there. His hands beat
against the ground in anger. "Where was I when she needed me?", his
mind cried out. He buried his face in his arms and cried.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"Thomas' Story: Cumin' of Age" Chapter 28 - by T. F. Yank
Copyright © 1991, 1993 by DEH Enterprises. All Rights Reserved.
Permission is granted to distribute in electonic format, unaltered
and un-edited with this copyright statement intact. Hardcopies are
limited to single printing for private, non-profit use only.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

+-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+
| \*/ "I'd buy you a green dress, but not a |
| Flying Yank | real green dress. That's cruel." |
| --------- + 'If I had a million Dollars' |
| [email protected] / \ -- Bare Naked Ladies |
+-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+
--
I will ignore all requests for: reposts, e-mailing parts, ftp/gif/archive
sites, and subscription requests. These stories get deleted immediately after
they are posted. For more info on the ARCHIVE postings, read the FAQ posted
bi-monthly to a.s.s.d. And don't send me chain mail- I'll notify your sysadmin.


 
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