Boarding School: Mattie's Story 4a & b & epilouge

1.

A few days later, I was summoned to the nurse's office. It wasn't my usual time of month for a check-up, so I was feeling somewhat anxious by the time I arrived. Nurse Leigh had me put on a gown and lie down on the examination table, and soon I relaxed, figuring they were just doing my exam a little bit early. Though it was odd that Dr. Mark was not present.

Nurse Leigh did the usual poking and prodding, listening to my chest through a stethoscope, then turning me over to lie face-down so she could listen through my back. Everything was routine until I felt her grab my behind and spread my cheeks apart. She poked my hole with a gloved finger, and pushed a little bit. Thankfully, she didn't push all the way in.

And that was it. "You may get up now, and get dressed," she said. "Then come see me in my office."

I dressed quickly, and did as she instructed. "Sit down, dear," she said, motioning to a chair. Hearing her call me "dear" was certainly a surprise, but I was far more shocked at what she had arrayed on her desk. There were condoms -- those I recognized easily enough. Panty liners I recognized too. But I had no idea what the little plastic bottles filled with water were for.

"It has come to my attention that you have been -- shall we say? -- meeting the needs of your roommate."

My eyes must have gone wide in shock, because she laughed and said, "Oh come now, you didn't expect news like that to remain a secret in a little school like ours, did you?"

I didn't answer. I was busy absorbing the possibility that my whole class knew. I couldn't believe it. I wished I could disappear through a crack in the floor.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, Mattie," Nurse Leigh said, reading my expression. "It's perfectly natural. In fact we fully expected that pinkbands and bluebands would begin to explore their new bodies together before too long."

I squirmed in my chair and said nothing.

"What concerns me," she continued, "is your health. We have separate pinkband and blueband health seminars scheduled later this semester, but you seem to have gotten a little ahead of the rest. I guess we could call you precocious," she added with a wry smile.

"First," she said, not waiting for me to answer, "I want to know: are you using condoms?"

I gaped, and tried to speak, but no sound came out.

"You may as well be truthful. I've already had this talk -- a blueband version of it -- with your roommate."

"Well, no," I mumbled. "I hadn't really thought about it, I guess."

"Well you should. Health and cleanliness should be your top concerns now that you're sexually active. You want to be attractive and appealing, don't you?"

I nodded, and stared at my hands in my lap. Businesslike, Nurse Leigh picked up a condom and removed it from its foil pouch. She unrolled it to its full length and held it out before me.

“A simple enough concept,” she said as I looked up. “Tomorrow I'm going to let you practice how to put a condom on your partner,” she added, gesturing to a life-like – if rather large – model of an erect penis. “It might be wise to get you accustomed to the taste of the condom as well, should you and your partner decide to use one.”

"I'm also going to give you several boxes of panty liners," she said, motioning to the pink cartons her desk. "It's not unusual to feel a bit... leaky after lovemaking. I trust you know how to use these?"

I could only nod my head. My mouth had gone totally dry, and it seemed an impossible effort to speak.

"Most importantly, however, it's time you learned how to douche." I stared at her in alarm. "Yes, 'douche.' It's not a dirty word, you know. It's simply a part of good hygiene."

She stood up and walked over to pull down a chart on the wall. It was one of those diagrams of the human body you'd find in any doctor's office. I noticed this one showed a female.

"If your partner is not using a condom, it's important that your body be prepared to receive him," she said. I couldn't believe she was talking about this so matter-of-factly, and wondered how much Jim had told her. Everything, it seems. I imagined him boasting as he spoke.

Nurse Leigh picked one of the little plastic bottles from her desk and returned to the chart. "This is a pre-mixed douche solution, already in its applicator, so you don't have to prepare your own. It's a mix of water and vinegar, for the most part, not just water as you probably assumed," she added, guessing correctly. All my thoughts seemed transparent to her today.

Holding the bottle next to the chart, she said, "The applicator tip is inserted into the anus, like so," demonstrating the motion. "Push the tip in until it will go no further, then squeeze the bottle until it empties."

"It's best to do this in a private moment in advance, lying on your side with the bathroom nearby. But if you and your partner are approaching 'the heat of passion,' so to speak, you can excuse yourself and do it while sitting on the toilet. In any event, hold the liquid inside yourself as long as you can, then expel it in the toilet just as if you were using the bathroom. You may do this after lovemaking as well, just to tidy up, but it's really not necessary."

With that she put the condoms, the panty liners and the little bottles into a bag -- a clear plastic bag, I saw to my horror -- and sent me on my way.

2.

Walking the hallways back to my room was a torment. Everything was clearly visible through the bag, and although I hugged it to my chest in an effort to conceal as much as I could, one glance was enough for anyone to know what was in it.

Ahead of me some distance down the hall, a number of bluebands were standing about, some leaning against the windowsill, talking and joking around in the free period between classes. God, I just wanted to die! I had to walk past them -- there was no other way to get to my room. As I approached, their talk died down and they all looked at me in silence. I stared at my shoes, certain I was blushing bright red, and quickened my pace, only to remember that this made my butt wiggle even more than usual. I was mortified.

But to my surprise, no one said anything, not a word. Were they actually being gentlemen? Highly doubtful. Then it occurred to me: they were all members of Jim's group. Maybe they were afraid I'd tell him they were mean to me, and there'd be trouble. Jim was, after all, bigger than each of them, kind of the alpha male in their pack. Maybe they thought of me as "his" now, and kept their mouths shut out of respect for their leader. Unfortunately, that could only mean Jim had told them all about us.

If so, then someone had gone on to tell all the pinkbands, too, because a number of them gathered around me as I continued down the hall. Pat was there, thankfully, and so was my friend Jerri and several other pinkbands I'd grown friendly with. They were madly curious to examine what I was carrying in my bag, but I was desperate to get to my room. Pat took me by the arm, while Jerri shoo-ed the other pinkbands away with promises they'd get all the details soon enough. Pat and I sat down on my bed, and a moment later Jerri joined us, closing the door.

Well they immediately spilled the bag open and inspected everything thoroughly. The douches were the most surprising to them, and they made little exclamations like "Oh my god!" and "All the way in?" as I explained what Nurse Leigh had told me.

"You know, it's actually a relief to finally talk with someone,” I said. “How long have you known? And why didn't you say anything?"

"We wanted to wait until you were ready to tell us," Pat said, and Jerri nodded in agreement. "But, yeah, you and Jim have been the talk of the campus!" he added with a friendly giggle.

"I think you guys are the first," Pat went on, "And I guess we're kind of half excited and half afraid of what's ahead for us."

"More than half," Jerri added, although he didn't say of which.

"Anyway, you must have noticed how everyone's been sort of subdued the last few days, especially us pinkbands?" Pat said. "We were dying to ask you, obviously, but no one wanted to be the first to bring it up."

To tell the truth, I hadn't noticed anyone being subdued or anything else. I'd been walking around in a fog of my own, I guess, and had tuned the rest of the world out.

At that moment the door opened and Jim walked in, sweaty and glowing from a workout. The large bulge in his crotch was plain to see beneath gym shorts that had become a bit too snug in recent weeks, it seems. Or maybe that was the new fashion among the blues, part of their endless competition to see who was at the top of the chain.

"Oh, pardon me," Jim said in a teasing tone. "I didn't mean to interrupt your gossip session."

"It is NOT a gossip session," Jerri retorted, in a high, clear voice that was all the more girlish in contrast to Jim's rumbling baritone. As he glared at him, I wondered whether Jerri had suddenly taken a dislike to Jim, perhaps on learning of our new... relationship. They'd been friendly enough in the past, but there was definitely some friction there now. "Can't we just sit around and talk if we want to?"

"Why, yes, you certainly can. But not here, and not now," Jim said, still smirking, still obviously amused, which only made Jerri seethe. Jim's body language clearly signaled he wanted them to go. “Ladies? If you would...”

He stood there, one arm indicating the door. Jerri hung his head and he and Pat meekly got to their feet to leave. As he rose, Pat gave my knee a little squeeze. "We'll talk more at dinner."

Jim stared approvingly at their round behinds as they departed.

-----

Talk we certainly did. When I arrived in the dining hall, I saw Pat and several other pinkbands already seated at a table. Pat smiled, and motioned me to join them. I nodded, filled my tray, and went over and sat down in the seat they had saved for me. Jerri was not there.

We chatted for a few minutes, the usual small talk about studies and schedules and friends. As the conversation lulled, a pinkband I'd shared a few classes with leaned toward me and said in a low voice, "I have to ask you... did it hurt?"

"Were you scared?" another asked, in the same quiet tone.

The other pinkbands nodded earnestly in approval. These were the questions they'd all been aching to pose.

I felt grateful I had a circle of friends to talk with, and bit by bit, peppered by questions, I told them how it all came about. How I'd been very scared at first, and stunned a bit, so that I felt a little detached from the scene. They nodded, all their heads bobbing as we talked, exclaiming now and then -- "Of course you were!" and "You must have felt awful!" -- to encourage me onward in my story.

Another lull, and a younger pink named Jamie, blushing and stammering a bit, asked, "Did you, um, did you do oral sex? I mean, uh, I should say, um, a blow job?"

One of the others chimed in, "Did you swallow his, you know -- when he came, did you swallow it?" Their faces were practically blazing with eagerness to hear my answer.

For some reason, I suddenly felt I was being watched from across the room. I looked over at Jim's table, where he sat with four of his friends, some of the most muscular bluebands in the class. They were all staring intently at us.

I felt my face flush and I quickly looked down at my plate while the other pinkbands, seeing the direction I'd been gazing, looked over too. They gasped and squeaked, and stared down at their plates as I had done. The bluebands laughed and went back to whatever they'd been talking about, in their usual rowdy manner. I stole another glance over. Only Jim was looking my way now, with an odd thoughtful expression on his face that I hadn't often seen since we came to this strange, strange school.

Maybe it was the whispering among the pinks that had caught the bluebands' attention, but I couldn't help but feel they'd been discussing me, too, even as my friends pumped me for information. Maybe Jim had been elaborating on his -- our -- exploits, and they were still kind of reevaluating me, trying to assimilate this new development. Whatever the reason, I felt very uncomfortable and uneasy, so I excused myself from the other pinkbands, quickly cleared my tray and went back to my room.

There, I slipped into bed without undressing, turned the lights out and pulled my blanket up to my chin. I lay in the dark, trying -- and failing -- not to cry, feeling suddenly very much alone and very, very confused.

3.

I awoke to see someone standing silhouetted in the doorway. It was Jim. I could easily recognize him by his broad shape, by the set of his powerful shoulders and the stark, square outline of his jaw. He walked in, shutting the door behind him. I heard him pad across the room in the dark, and he turned on a light, relieving a little bit of the gloom.

“You're awake.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on my belly, slowly stroking the curve of my hip as I lay beneath the cover. After a minute or two in which neither spoke, he asked, “Why did you run out of the cafeteria like that?” Something in his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

I sat up, pushing the blanket aside and moving away from his touch.

“Why? Isn't it obvious? Jim, why did you tell everyone about us?” I asked, unable to keep a pleading tone from my voice. “Why did you talk about us all over the school?” I felt my lip start to quiver, and tears begin, but I resolved not to cry.

“What do you want me to say, Mattie? You know how the guys are.” He didn't seem to see the irony in that. “We were just hanging out, and I guess it just came up.”

“Why didn't you at least let ME know that you had told them?” I meant to say it as a demand, but the words came out in a hoarse whisper. He didn't reply, but half lifted, half pulled me toward him, and set me down in his lap.

“I didn't think it was a big deal.” He returned to running his hands along my curves, gently squeezing me here and there. “I'm sorry,” he said, and cupped my breasts. “I didn't know you'd be so upset.”

He drew me close, and pressed my face to his chest, the hard muscles of his pecs warm against my cheek. He nuzzled my ear, and kissed my neck, slowly working his way down to my shoulder. “Let's make up,” he said, and slid his hands beneath my shirt, lifting it off even as he continued to stroke my skin.

I could feel his cock, firm and hard beneath me, pressed against my bottom. A sudden warmth moved through me, up and across my breasts, as I felt him begin to rock in place. I did the same, matching his slow rhythm. Lifting me again, he pulled my panties down, then lay back on the bed and wriggled out of his shorts. His cock sprang free, thick and powerful in a way that, despite my feeling so upset with him, made me shiver in anticipation.

“Come here,” he said, and pulled me to him, so that I straddled his middle. We resumed our sinuous rocking, his hands about my waist. His cock was slick with pre-cum and, without a word, I slipped him inside me, the muscles in my rear clamping snugly around him.

We continued to move together, our speed increasing slightly, and I reached down to touch myself, finding the faint dimples of what remained of my balls, drawn close against my body in a compact little mound. My fingers drifted to my penis, barely more than a pinkish bud peeking out from my pubic hair. I squeezed it, and another pulse of warmth ran through me, stronger this time, enough to make me gasp. Jim increased his speed, and I bounced in tune with him, feeling the entire length of his meat sliding through my hole with every stroke.

I moaned. I had never felt so... filled, my whole body throbbing in pleasure, nipples tingling, every inch of me, inside and out, seemingly aglow. I moaned again, louder this time, and cried out with each upward thrust of his beautiful cock. All the while, with one hand pressed against his chest to steady myself, I stroked my tiny clit, feeling wave after wave of ecstasy course through me, a state of bliss I'd never, ever experienced before.

Jim pumped harder and faster, and I kneaded and squeezed my clit in rhythm. Soon the energy of the world, of the entire universe, was crashing through me, shuddering, filling every corner of me as I wailed in delight. I was screaming now, gasping out his name and god knows what else, panting and rocking, feeling my eyes roll back in my head and cherishing every second of wracking, wrenching pleasure. I labored for breath, even as the overwhelming ecstasy went on and on. Then I felt him shudder too, gushing and throbbing inside me, filling me utterly as I rode and rode.

Minutes? Hours? A lifetime? I have no idea. Every fiber in my body was vibrating in joy when finally I collapsed onto his chest, breathless, still moaning but quietly now, exhausted and exhilarated. Jim closed me in his arms, drawing me into his embrace until I felt I'd merged within him, his delicious sweat and powerful frame sinking into my every pore.

“If they didn't know before,” he said, panting too, “They sure do now.”

4.

They say you have a glow about you after making love. I must have been incandescent. In the morning, every bit of me feeling like liquid, the simple act of walking would have been an impossible task –- had I not already been floating.

5.

I never gave it another thought, whether we had been the talk of the campus or not. How could I ever have cared? Everything had changed, it really had. That... experience, that shared ecstasy, so profoundly physical but somehow so spiritual too, brought a closeness that I'd not even thought to dream of. I still can't put it into words.

But we felt it, together, without having to say so. Jim's strong arm was now wrapped around the small of my back as we walked in the hallways, his hand firmly on the curve of my behind, me pressed against him with – I don't doubt it – a glassy look in my eyes. He called me his girlfriend now. I overheard him say it once, in telling his friends that he was going to meet me. I nearly melted in a slow-motion orgasm right where I stood, just to hear him speak the word.

And if I'd been precocious, to use Nurse Leigh's phrase, I was certainly no longer alone in that. Our entire class seemed to have burst forth in a flood of passion, as if we'd all been waiting for something to set us in motion. Some days you could practically feel the sexual energy humming in the air, everyone wide-eyed and flushed with excitement. All of us pinkbands had had The Talk, now that Nurse Leigh knew the gates had been opened. And all the bluebands seemed perpetually erect.

God, it was heaven.

As the weeks went on, we were granted new privileges. The guys were given an allowance, and permitted to travel into town. How much money they received I don't know, but they quickly learned to spend it on us! Small gifts would appear, as if by wishing: make-up and pretty hair brushes, flowers (my favorite), even now and then some lingerie. The guys' tastes ran to the whorish, as you might expect, and I imagined many bedroom scenes of pinkbands dressed as sluts and strippers for the pleasure of their men.

We were given access to a student lounge -- behind what, up to now, had simply been a locked door -- arrayed with lush couches and soft lights. Here we girls gathered for what had become regular gossip sessions, where NOTHING was off limits for discussion. We traded every secret on techniques – theirs and ours – giggling like mad, and grateful, grateful that fate had brought us all together in this wonderful place.

The lounge was not ours alone, of course. In one corner of the room was a large television – it felt like years since I'd seen one – and a wall of videotapes, mostly of the car-chase and shoot-out variety, I'm afraid. What we considered our girl-talk space was to the guys an electronic wonderland, filled with the booming thump of surround-sound and the flickering of cinema images.

Naturally, it wasn't long until the guys had all but monopolized the lounge, glued to one movie or another, leaving us to gather in our rooms, or else the dining hall, which now remained open to us fairly late on weekends. We still had our separate spaces, so it was some time before we learned that there was more than Dirty Harry and the Terminator stocked on the videotape shelves. There seemed to be an extensive collection of porn as well, which soon became the prime entertainment of the blues.

I confess, I was a bit curious myself. Aside from charts in health class, where the human figure and its innards were depicted in garish color, I'd never seen what a woman's body looks like up close and undressed, certainly not “down there.” I sort of wanted to compare, I guess, to see how far I'd developed and how far I might still go. So one evening I decided to venture into the Porno Palace, as we pinks had come to call the lounge. The lights were low, the room illuminated mostly by the glare of the television, and I slipped in unnoticed. The guys were riveted to the image before them.

Instantly, I was riveted, too. There, in the full glory of wide-screen TV, was a beautiful woman, nude and splayed out on a bed. Her legs were spread, and she was slowly working an enormous dildo in and out of her pussy. She was soaked, and moaning, and the guys were softly groaning in tune. Their usual hoots and shouts had been replaced by a sort of stunned worship.

“Oh my god,” I murmured, forgetting that I was a spy in here. In the quiet, it sounded almost like a shout, and I was suddenly the center of attention, feeling very small in a room full of enormous, testosterone-stoked men. I started to back away, hoping to retreat just as I'd come in, but one of the bluebands grabbed me, easily pinning my arms against my sides and stopping me in my tracks. I'm sure my eyes were wide with terror. “Hey, baby,” he growled, leaning close and positioning me in front of his crotch. “When are you gonna do that dildo trick for me?”

He must have been a little bit drunk, although I'd never heard that they had alcohol in there, because he swayed as he stood leering over me. Pulling me still closer, I felt his rock-hard cock press hotly against my belly. “C'mon, I want to see what you got down there.”

“F-fuck you,” I stuttered, trying to seem fearless, which only made him laugh, blasting his disgusting breath in my face.

“That's the idea!” But even as he pawed at my pants, he was abruptly wrenched away, and I fell to the floor. Two of the other blues had pulled him off me, pinning his arms against his back now. “What are you, fuckin crazy?” one of the guys snarled at him. “Dude, that's Mattie. Jim'll fuckin cut your balls off!”

I didn't stay to hear more, but picked myself up and ran out the door, my heart pounding and my arms aching where he had clenched me in his massive hands. I didn't stop to look back, either. I ran directly to my room and shut the door behind me. Leaning against it, gasping for breath, I rubbed the red welts he'd left on my arms in just those few brief moments he'd held me pinned. Jim wasn't home, and I felt a rising panic, wishing he was here.

But I was scared too, suddenly worried what Jim would think, seeing me standing here all breathless and disheveled, my skin still showing the grip of another man's hands. It doesn't really make sense looking back now, but at that moment I didn't want him to know what had happened, to know that I had ventured into the lounge. I forced myself to slow my breathing, and dabbed at my eyes before any more tears could spill. It's for the best, I told myself. I shouldn't have gone in there anyway.

I busied myself tidying up our room, all the while suppressing a shriek that was trying to rise inside me. After some time, I managed to squeeze the scream back down, where it settled in a kind of numb paralysis all through me. That's the state I was in when Jim finally came home.

He'd been into town, I knew, and he was whistling as he walked in. “Hey,” he said, and drew close to embrace me. I didn't turn around, so he stood pressed to my back, encircling me with his arms from behind. The khakis the bluebands were now permitted to wear did nothing to conceal the rod poised against my cheeks, ready as ever to spring to attention. Right now, however, it only seemed an unwelcome reminder of what I'd just been through.

“Hi,” I murmured, not meeting his eyes out of fear I'd break out in hysterics. I slipped from his arms and went back to tidying up.

“What's the matter?” he asked, turning to keep me in view as I moved about the room.

“N-nothing.” I tried to sound relaxed. “I just want to clean up this mess.”

He continued to watch me as I began picking up his towels and underwear from where he'd dropped them on the floor. I still couldn't meet his gaze.

“Well, SOMETHING'S the matter. Tell me. What's going on?”

“I'm just tired is all.” I glanced in his eyes, then turned quickly back to my cleaning. Jim walked into the bathroom, and I heard him pee, the sound of it like a fire hose. When he came back out he resumed watching me move about the room. I managed a brief smile in his direction, then turned my eyes away. He sat down on his bed, while I carried the laundry into the hamper in the bathroom. When I came out, he started telling me about what he'd been doing in town. But when I could only manage an occasional “Uh-huh” and “That's nice,” he trailed off in mid-story.

“Mattie, I can tell you're upset,” he said. “I want to know: what's the matter?”

“No, really, I'm just a little tired.”

He threw his hands up in frustration, rising to his feet as he did so. “Jesus christ, you are every bit a chick, aren't you? How'm I supposed to know what's going on if you won't even tell me?”

Stomping about the room, he grabbed a fresh towel and a pair of shorts, and roughly stuffed them into his gym bag. “Look,” he said, as I stared at the floor, seeing only his feet and lower legs. “Look at me!” he ordered, and lifted my chin. He could see my eyes were were welling up with tears, and the expression on his face slowly softened.

“Look,” he said, more gently this time. “If you don't want to tell me, then why don't you talk to your girlfriends about this, whatever it is, huh? Hash it out with Pat and Jerri, and maybe they can help you get whatever this mood is out of your system.”

I closed my eyes and let out a breath, but didn't reply. Jim paused, expecting me to speak, then let his hand drop from my chin. I looked up as he headed out of the room. “I'm going to the gym,” he said without turning, and angrily pulled the door shut.

A few minutes later, I heard a tapping at the door and, not waiting for a reply, Pat peered in.

“Mattie? Are you okay? Jim said you needed to talk with me.”

6.

When I had told the whole horrible story to Pat, her eyes wide in shared terror, I finally felt the urge to shriek dissolve away. We sat on the bed in each other's arms, me sniffling and Pat stroking my hair, murmuring softly, “It's all right now. You're safe now.”

But as I lay back in her grasp, letting out a sigh of relief, the door burst open and the blueband who had attacked me lurched partly into the room. I screamed, absolutely panic-stricken, and Pat screamed too, even as she bravely placed herself between me and the blue.

Then Jim followed in, and I saw he had hold of the boy by the skin of his neck, and was roughly shoving him along. The blueband – I didn't know his name and never, ever wanted to learn it -- looked tousled and mussed up, his clothes all in disarray, dirt on his shorts and tee. I didn't see any bruises or blood, but he seemed to be holding his stomach tenderly.

Jim turned to me. “He's got something to say to you.”

“Well, I just wanted to, uh...” The boy paused to study his shoes.

“Talk to her, not the floor, dickwad,” Jim barked, and shook him by the scruff of his neck.

“I'm sorry, really.” As he looked at me, I could see there was real fear in his eyes. “I was totally totally wrong to do that. I, um... Well, I'm sorry. I just-- I mean I was really out of line and I'm sorry if I hurt you.”

He went on like that for a minute or two, glancing at Jim every other sentence as if uncertain he was apologizing properly, until Jim cut him off. “That's enough.”

He grabbed the blue by the arm, twisting it cruelly, and dragged him stumbling out of the room, pinning him against the wall opposite our door. He slipped a hand around to grip the boy's throat, while the other fist had him by the balls. “You ever touch her again, you ever come NEAR her, I will personally introduce you to the joys of being a pinkband.” His voice was low and toneless, but filled with menace.

The boy shook his head earnestly. “I w-won't. I swear. I swear!”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Jim shoved him away, and turned his back on him. The boy held a hand to his throat, feeling the stinging welt where Jim had choked him, then turned and stumbled down the hall.

With a sharp glare from Jim, Patty fled from the doorway where we stood, scooting down the hallway toward the safety of her room. Shaking almost uncontrollably, I retreated back into our own room as Jim came through the door, slamming it behind him. “And you,” he growled, pointing a finger in my face, “You stay out of there. Stay away from them altogether!”

He prowled around the room, bristling with anger. I shrank into a corner, feeling as if I was caged up with a tiger. “Goddamn goddamn goddamn goddamn,” he muttered through clenched teeth, a seething sort of cadence to accompany his pacing. After some time, though, he seemed a little calmer, or maybe he had just clamped his anger under control – his eyes still smoldered. He sat down on his bed, and motioned me to join him. “Sit.” Trembling, I perched on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Troy told me what happened. That was stupid," he said bitterly. He placed his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him. "Mattie, you don't know these guys like I do. If Troy and Jack hadn't been there to pull that little shit off of you, things could have turned out a lot different. There's a few in that bunch who go from civilized to out-of-control in a second, and they might have joined right in.”

I shuddered. The memory of just one animal pawing at me was awful enough. “I'm sorry. I just wanted to see what-- I thought if I could just find out what real women...” My voice trailed off.

“Yeah, well, that's what we need to talk about. I know what they were watching when you came in. I've seen that one plenty of times myself, and I gotta say I like it quite a bit. And I've been thinking it's time for your next step. I mean you're beautiful, Mattie, really, you're the sexiest girl here, no question. But it's just not the same. I dunno, it's not tight and nice like I'd --”

“Well that's hardly my fault, now is it?” I interrupted, feeling a flash of indignation after all the hours of stress. “You fuck me like fifty times a day!”

He paused, appearing startled, then laughed out loud. A short, clipped bark that erased the anger from his face. I smiled then, pleased that I had unwittingly found a way through his simmering rage. He laughed again, and it felt like a thundercloud had rolled away into the distance. When he'd stalked about like that, he seemed to fill the entire room with a frightening kind of energy, raw and male and completely overpowering to me. But right now, breathing deeply as if I'd just washed ashore in a storm, I realized just how safe I really was. How safe I was BECAUSE of him.

Jim drew me closer, and I pressed myself to his chest, feeling my fear drain away, secure in the warmth and strength of his embrace. I would have been content to stay there forever. But reaching under my shirt, he played a hand across my breasts, his rough skin a thrill, then slid further down to fondle my clit. I stood up, his fingers still stroking, and wiggled out of my shorts. I could feel his breath as he leaned closer and licked my little nub, sending waves cascading through me. I slid my shirt off, tweaking my nipples in a slow massage, feeling my breasts jiggle and sway above his beautiful face. Poised naked there before him, his tongue playing over my little clittie while his hands caressed my bottom, I knew I was headed for intoxicating bliss.

He slipped out of his khakis and pulled me down to the bed, pressing me beneath him, my legs wrapping around his back. I inhaled deeply, and his wonderful scent filled my mind. With one hand he reached down and massaged his now-glistening cock all over my crotch, drenching me with his clear sweet fluid. I bucked my hips to be closer to him, wanting him desperately, as he placed his lips against my ear. I could feel him mouth the words as he spoke: “It's gonna be great,” he murmured. “I've already made your appointment.”

I think I actually purred, a low uneven moan that seemed to well up in my clit and wash all through me, to the tip of my tongue. I turned to take his mouth in mine. The very thought of that huge, gorgeous cock of his sliding into my vagina – a real pussy, my useless little peanuts finally snipped away – was enough to set me screaming, soaring off to another shattering climax.

7.

Of course we were married eventually, not long after graduation. What fairytale would be complete without it, the radiant bride and her gallant prince? With the help of a surrogate mother we had a baby, an adorable boy who looks more like his father every day. We live in a beautiful home, where I tend my beds of flowers while Jim is in the world, wielding his power in the far-off corridors of commerce and money. His “kept woman,” he calls me, in his playful way of teasing me. I whisper the words to myself sometimes when I'm alone, an echo of that first joy we shared so long ago warming me within. There is nothing I would change.

I'd miss the bulging muscles and the ever-eager cock, were things different, it's true. But what I cherish the most, what matters most, I think, is the man he is deep inside: warm and attentive, charming, and so loving. My protector and most precious treasure, both. I've gotten in the habit of watching him lately, a silly little smile on my face, as he goes about the routines of everyday life. Shaving, dressing. Sitting at our table, eating the meal I've made for him. Playing with our son, a massive, powerful man so gently engaging my innocent child.

Once we ourselves were children, my husband and I, not so different from our little boy, in fact. Older, yes, when we began our journey together. But every bit as unaware of the vast promise life holds, our destinies unfolding always half a step ahead, urging us on. To this day I do not know what the future will bring, we none of us ever truly do. And why would we wish to? If I had been told, all those years ago, where my life would lead me, would I have had the courage to embrace it? I don't know for certain, and never will, but I fear the answer. Imagine all I would have lost. Better to trust in fleeting chance, I think, each day a mystery. Every obstacle and every ideal, every hope and heartache an open door to ecstasy, and the lingering bliss it brings.

May you, too, find the joy you seek.

-- Mattie

END