The Greatest Gift

by Loki

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, First, .

Desc: Sex Story: Sometimes it is said the greatest gift is that of life. What greater gift could Jeremy give to this bed-ridden virgin, Jenni? Sex? Not exactly. Something more important.

I rang the bell of the suburban Tudor house. A sprightly white haired woman in her late seventies opened the door. Granny looked me over as she always did. It seemed like each time I came, she had to re-evaluate me. Good enough for her granddaughter? Six feet, lean, gentle voice. She smiled. "Mr. Peters, do come in. Jennifer is expecting you."

I squeezed her hand. "Call me Jeremy. "Jenni is a friend as well as a client."

"I'm glad. Jennifer has so few friends. Old friends forget her because they feel awkward visiting somebody who they know will die in a few months."

"Don't say that."

"It's true. Jennifer knows it."

"Certainly, it's true. Jennifer needs friends who act like friends, not old acquaintances mumbling eulogies while she's still alive."

I entered the bedroom, really the sick room, and saw her lying on the bed, head up, alert, obviously looking forward to see me. A good sign. Crippled, dying, yes, but not sick today.

It was a warm day, so she lay there with no blankets over her. She wore only a simple chemise gown. It made of a gauzy cloth I could almost see through. No bra, but a bed ridden girl doesn't really need one. No panty lines under the gown, but then she sometimes needed to use the bedpan and conventional panties might be too hard for to move without assistance. She hated to call Granny just to pee. Once I helped her set up the bedpan into the proper position because she didn't want to wake up Granny. She didn't seem embarrassed to have a relatively strange man assist her in such an intimate task. In fact, from what I know about women, I guessed that my assistance excited her. For certain her nipples, pressing against the thin cloth of her gown, swelled up prominently and seemed to say 'Thank you.'

"Hello, Jenni," he said softly. She smiled. Blonde, emaciated from being bed ridden for years, but she was still beautiful.

"Are you ready for something new?" She knew what I was bringing. A new headpiece she could wear all the time, even when sleeping. Her body's motor system was deteriorating, typical of a disease of the nervous system. "You can call your grandmother or the nurse without pressing the button." At times her hand had been but inches from the call button, but a temporary paralysis kept her arm rigid. The last time that happened, she did pee in her pants.

I reached over to hold her right hand and then bent down to give her a friendly kiss on the cheek. A girl with so few friends left, male or female, appreciated the physical touch of another human being. Most people avoided physical contact with a sick person confined to bed. It's as if the poor victim's plight were communicable. Even my visits were officially business. I was hired to maintain the electronics that made her last months of life more comfortable, things like voice activated TV and cell phone controls. But beyond that, I considered her a friend and would have visited her just to say hello, and call her frequently to see her or just to chat.

I placed no special emphasis on a lip or cheek kiss. The fact that I greeted her with a kiss was what mattered. My lips just about reached her cheek when she suddenly turned to me, mouth ready for a lip kiss. Her left arm wrapped around his neck and pulled me down toward her. I bowed my head and our lips met.

She used all her strength to press her lips tight against mine. After a split second of contact, her tongue slid out and ventured between my slightly parted lips. I was so surprised by her tongue that I didn't notice that she pulled my other hand down and placed it on her exposed breast.

Her tongue was in my mouth. It was one of the few muscles in her body that retained most of its power. I could tell immediately she didn't have much practice in kissing. I could sense tension in her body. Was she afraid I'd be shocked by her aggressiveness and pull back, rejecting her? No! My reaction was automatic. My mouth clamped down on her upper lip, sort of sucking it into my mouth. Then my tongue met hers. Our two tongues waltzed together. The sensation was something she never experienced before. Soon our two tongues alternately explored the other's mouth. Mine was more practiced and skilful. I could see I aroused sensations in her that she never knew existed. I had done this many time before with other girls and knew exactly what it took to excite Jenni.

I finally noticed my left hand on her right breast with my fingers squeezing her nipple. O God. I didn't remember how it got there. I rolled the nipple between his fingers and felt it swell in size and hardness.

I could feel an orgasm building up in Jenni. Her breathing was fast, and a moaning sound escaped her lips. Suddenly as spasms convulsed her body, I knew this orgasm was stronger than any climax she ever produced by masturbation. Sometimes a guy just knows things like that. Jenni collapsed back to the pillows of her bed. I saw her, eyes closed, mouth partially open, tongue still not inside, and she had this incredible expression. Her face glowed with her ecstasy. It was a kiss she'd remember forever.

She smiled. "When you give that little hen-peck kiss, I silently scream for a real kiss like I see in the movies I watch." She smiled, almost giggling. She was very honest in her conversation. "I finally worked up the courage to give you the kiss I've been dreaming about. My fantasy kiss. The kiss I want you to give me." She blushed. She didn't blush when I held her bedpan a month ago, but conversation like this must have seemed more intimate. "Sometimes when I'm dreaming, not really asleep, but not all the way awake either, I imagine I'm your date and you just took me home and we're at my apartment door in New York, for I dream I'm a career girl, not a cripple, and you kiss me good night. You press your body against mine. I feel your," she hesitated, clearly embarrassed.

"Go ahead and say it," I ordered.

"I feel your, your erection pressing into my mid section."

"Say it again, the way you really want to."

"I feel your giant cock pressing into me." She had smile of satisfaction on her surprised face, as if she said something naughty and wasn't reprimanded. Hell, she was an adult, but the transition from teenager to young adult was spent in bed and she never had the chance to act grown up. "You hold me and press me against your strong body and then sort of roll me back and forth over your cock. O god it feels so good." In a whisper, "Oh Jeremy, it feels so good just to be able say something like this to another person, especially a man." A pause, as if she was debating what she would tell me. "Sometimes I have wild, crazy fantasies, but this was a realistic one. I sort of relive something that happened to me in the past, but add a few frills."

"But I never did that to you."

"Not you. Years ago, back when I was a good looking teenager and could still dance, boys at high school held me real close and I could feel their cocks rise. I couldn't do the fast dances, but I could dance slow. Sometimes I needed the boy to hang on to when we swirled around and they may have thought I was more aggressive than I meant to be. And I think a couple of boys came in their pants while slow dancing with me. So that part of the vision is based in something that happened. It's very vivid. I can imagine you ejaculating when you hold me tight, but it's only not you I remember. I'm holding you but some other guy's cock is pressing me. It's not satisfying. Then we kiss lightly. That is very realistic. We do a light kiss all the time and my lips relive the experience."

"What happens next?"

"I wonder if I should invite you up to my apartment for a drink. I think about sex and wonder if I can seduce you. I never seduced a guy before, or a gal either, so I have no experience. I don't want to flub my first attempt. But I decide to kiss you with such passion that you won't refuse when I invite you up to my place."

"Then what happens? This is getting interesting."

"Am I being improper telling you all this?"

"No. It will free your thinking and let you talk about other things that have been bothering you. So go ahead. It's good for you."

"I look up at you and your head comes down on my lips and my arms pull your face and your lips against mine. That part is very real. I taste my excitement over and over. Then I push out my tongue into your mouth." She stopped.

"You hold me. I love the feeling of being crushed against your body. I smell your masculinity. Not sex, but your maleness. I'm very aware you are a man, a real man, not a boy, a man who's fucked, there I said the word, who's fuck any number of girls and knows what sex and love is all about. A true man. I feel your cock, big and hard. You didn't press it against me, like the boys did in high school. It got big just by being near me and I had to press myself against it to feel its size Somehow in this vision, it's different than before."

"What the boys did before is often called dry humping. Why is it different than it was before."

"I don't know. I think its because I know you so much better."

"And then what happens?"

"I know I want to have sex with you. It's so much easier saying that because I'm describing a vision I'm experiencing while I tell you what I see and feel right now. Not something real."

"But is the desire real?"

She paused to think. "Yes. In my vision I am preparing for a good sexy goodnight kiss and me in real life on this sick bed. I'm both of those people, both me, are horny as hell.

"Now your hands roam over my body. First down my back over the curve of my ass. You touch my cheek and rub you hand under my chin. Since your hand is by my face, I lean forward and nibble on you finger. You lower your head to kiss me. I meet you. Our lips touch. My tongue darts out, like a snake's tongue. It enters your mouth and your tongue meets mine. Our lips dance a slow waltz, caressing each other. It is almost like our two tongues are trying to seduce each other. As if tongues can fuck. O God, it's so real. I can feel it. I can taste your mouth. I taste you, just like I did when we did it in real life. Last time in this very same vision, it was like putting my tongue on a piece of cardboard. Now it's on fire. So is my tit, because I feel it being rubbed. In my vision you haven't undressed me, but my tit inside my clothes feels your fingers making love to the nipple. I feel my pussy getting wet. I don't know if it's reliving what we did an hour ago or if it's part of my hallucination, my vision.

"You know why it's so real this time, don't you?"

"Yes. Because I experienced the real thing, your real kiss. My flashbacks need something real to build on, but you don't use me to get him hard by rubbing him against me.

She gathered her strength. "In my fantasy, we tongue kiss, and just like right now, I will have an orgasm. It excites me. When a man like you kisses a girl with such passion, a lonely girl like me wonders if we have a future. Here I'm a successful career girl, but I still wonder if I'm worthy of you. I wonder if I should invite in for an overnight. Will you consider me a cheap slut or an alluring young woman?"

A pause. I asked, "Do you invite me in?"

"Now I know I will invite you in, and hope you will stay all night. I will try to seduce you, even though I'm not that I'm an expert in the art of seduction. I don't know what a seductress does at this point. So I simply whisper in your ear, "Let's go up to my place. Some cognac should warm you up.' I unlock the front door and take your hand and pull you in. Now I'm kissing you in the elevator. No body else in there with us. God, I'm hot. You excite me. I want to rape you on the spot. I kneel before you. Feel your hard erection under those pants. I am unzipping you." Her hands were making the motion of unzipping. "I reach in to pull out your cock. Your pants drop to your ankles. I want to suck you here in the elevator." Suddenly the excitement in her voiced changed to panic. "I can't see it. I can't feel it. I felt big and hard just a moment ago, but now I can't find it. I push aside the folds of cloth that are your shorts but I can't find your cock in there." Her voice was a gasp of utter defeat.

"Just a moment ago, everything was so vivid, your body next to mine, your face, your smile and voice. The touch of your kiss seemed so real. But when I try to push my tongue and meet your tongue, things become vague. I want to invite you in and see what happens. Be it a dream or a fantasy as I awaken, the image dissolves. I've read about sex, seen pictures of cocks ejaculating, but when I try to include more than personal experience in my fantasies, it doesn't work. It has to be based on something I experienced."

"When we kissed just now, did you have an orgasm?"

She hesitated and then, as if resolved to tell all, said, "Yes, definitely. Much more intense than any other time. When I was fourteen, a boy I liked reached in and pulled my breast out and kissed my left nipple, and then he went for my right nipple. That was my life's sex life. Of course I also have orgasms when I masturbate. I used to have strong fingers, but my fingers aren't as nimble as they used to be. Yes, I had a real orgasm when I kissed you. Strong, like I used to have two years ago. And I had the beginnings of an orgasm in my vision just now. I knew I'd climax when I sucked you cock. My pussy got wet. Then utter collapse. No cock under there. I know now the dream bubble burst because I never saw your cock or ever touched it. Just saw it swell up inside your pants.

She moved her body and despite her partial paralysis, thrust her mid body upward. Her satin gown pressed against her crotch. It started to get wet. She could see and feel what was happening. The mirror in the ceiling told a story that might embarrass many girls. "I didn't pee in my panties. That wet splotch down there is female sex juice."

"Yes, I know. I smelled that several times when I had sex with other women."

I said that fearing that by mention that he'd had a sex with a number of girlfriends would upset her, make her jealous. But she smiled. "I'm glad you said girl-friends, not girl-friend. Does that mean there's no one special girl?"

"There's one girl I go out with much more than any other. But no, she's not my one and only. Not engaged."

I watched Jenny stop breathing for a few seconds and then force herself to ask something that seemed very important to her. "Do you ever," a pause, "fuck other girls?"

"I notice you said 'fuck', not 'have sex with'. I haven't fucked any other girl for over a month, but there's no commitment to her that I won't. She's sexy and keeps me satisfied."

Jessi gestured for me to come closer. I knew she wasn't going to make physical contact. She just wanted to say something and wanted the intimacy of me being close. When most girls want to say something intimate, they want to be close to their man and will often speak in a whisper, even when there was nobody around who could possibly hear her. I leaned down and, separated by the width of a hand, we look at each other face to face. She was smiling, but there were tears in her eyes.

Her bare breasts were still below me and the outlines of her pussy showed through the wet cloth of the gown. The looks and the hunger in her expression radiated sexuality. She didn't need to flaunt her naked body.

"Could I," she whispered in a husky voice, her lips glistening as they were polished by her tongue "be one of those other girls, one of those you could fuck without violating any commitments?"

I knew my face showed a mix of sorrow and pity.

She saw my answer. A gasp and a sob escaped her.

Jenni seemed stunned. Almost in shock. I was refusing her sexual advances, the first time in her life she offered herself to a man and he was rejecting her.

I could see that she wanted to cry, but managed to hold back the tears. "I'm not asking you to make love to me, to actually love me, but..." she didn't finish her sentence. Then: "I know don't love me, but I can tell you do like me a little."

My voice was a whisper too. "No, my dear Jenni. I can love you, but I cannot make love to you. I cannot have sex with you."

She looked at my crotch and saw the tent in my pants, with my erection being the tent pole. "You are a virile man. I offer myself to you. You can take me anytime." With that, she pulled the rest of her gown off her body and tried to spread her legs. I felt intense sorrow for her. I understood her embarrassment. She wanted to spread her legs, invite me to enter her vagina, but her paralysis stopped her legs. She didn't have the strength. And worse still, she really didn't know how to seduce a man. Suddenly, she knew she didn't know how and she was even more embarrassed that she was doing it wrong. It was almost as if her inability to look sexy canceled her botched attempt at seduction. All that happened was that she showed me a little more of her body, as if I hadn't seen enough to imagine full well what the rest was like.

"I don't love the other girls I have sex with, but I do like them, and it's still called making love."

"I'm offering you my virginity. My hymen. How many girls do you know who still have an intact hymen?"

"Not many I'm sure."

"It's not just sex I offer. It's my love. Not as in making love, but as in being in love." She seemed pleased I didn't say something like "How do you know what being in love is like?"

"And you still don't want me?"

"I don't want to take advantage of you."

"I'm 22 years old. I'm not a kid ... We'd be consenting adults."

"According to the laws of this state, you are not capable of consent in certain situations. Though 22 years old you are incapable of existing by yourself. You have no parents, just a great grandmother, to take care of you. Your legal guardian is a court appointed lawyer. There's a trust fund that pays for a nurse or therapist to make house visits, and a housecleaner to help Granny out. And of course my company is paid to give you the means to communicate with the outside world, and even with Granny. The lawyer doesn't give a damn as long as there is no trouble that affects him. This is similar to a child cannot have sex with an adult because she cannot make decisions like that by herself. Even if a ten year old begs a man to fuck her, the law forbids him to take advantage of her. Not only would your court appointed guardian sic the cops on any man who fondles with a ten old or you, so would this man have to fend off that society, Defenders of Defenseless."

"I don't care about those goody-goody who claim to know what's best for me."

"You are completely dependent on others. You are protected by the state, just as an idiot woman an IQ of thirty is. She is too stupid to be responsible for herself. Women like you, so the courts of this state declare, are so lonely and sexually frustrated, they are easy prey for any man and thus you too are protected. Protected against their own desires, or so the sanctimonious legislature declared, and the courts agree with them. It is against the law for me to have sexual contact with you."

She was crying. I put his hand on her back soothing her. She looked at me, begging, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Do you agree?"

"Defending the underage girl, yes I do."

"How about the adult woman who knows what she's doing when she tries to seduce a man?"

"Three months ago I had a client who was bedridden. She was not dying and there was some hope of recovery. She felt horny all the time. Spent much of the day masturbating. An electrician came to rewire her room. She got him in bed with her. She gave him presents and he fucked her every afternoon for a two weeks. She fell in love with him, totally. He was her whole life. But apparently her sex was quantity but not quality. He found a girl who responded better in bed, and dumped her. Deep depression. She had a hope of recovery but she died a week later."

"I'm not that type of woman. You don't understand, Jeremy. Think of this as part of my therapy." We both were silent for a few moments while she tried to put her thoughts into words. "I am going to die soon. We both know that and accept it. One of the reasons we're such friends is we accept it as a fact, and it makes each day together all the more precious." Again she pulled the chemise off her breasts. "Only one other guy ever saw my tits, and that was in a dark car, eight years ago." She pulled the gown off her waist and exposed her wet pussy. The labial lips were swollen due to sexual excitement. "No man or boy ever saw me naked or even touched me between the legs. I never had sex. Never. I will die a virgin, never knowing what it is to have a man make love to me, or at least to fuck me, to insert his cock into me and shoot his load deep into me. And as if I was a foolish girl all my life, I never broke my hymen skin, my cherry, when masturbating. The man who first fucks me not only gets a virgin, perhaps his first, but a hymenated virgin at that. There are very few of them left in our sex crazed society. But I'm not asking you to make love, not even to fuck me. Anything physical, bondage, cocksucking, a golden shower, anything will be a new experience. While I crave making love with you, anything you do to me that gives you a thrill, makes me happy too. " She was talking fast, excited. Thoughts bottled in her for so long were gushing out like water from a broken dam. "What ever you may do to me will be something no man has ever done to me before. It is a therapy I crave."

She paused and stared first at my face and then at my crotch. She whispered, "Let me see your cock."

"Why is that so important?"

"Last night I was masturbating and I dreamed of kissing you. Lips on lips worked, but when I pushed my tongue between your lips, it tasted like cardboard. An hour ago we kissed,, really kissed, and when I fantasized about having a date with you and I kissed you, my tongue was set on fire. O god. We had French kissed a half hour before and I knew what it felt like and I relived the experience, maybe with even more intensity than the real thing. Then when I dreamed of reaching into your pants to grab your cock, I couldn't find it. It wasn't there."

"You know why, don't you?"

"Yes. Because I had never in real life touched your cock nor did I ever see it. If you let me touch it, your cock will become part of my fantasies."

"Of course you know this would be illegal. I'd loose my license and maybe even be jailed."

"That lawyer bastard won't know."

"Most likely your granny will."

"She doesn't know everything."

"I bet there's a camera in this bedroom and a monitor in the granny's room and maybe the kitchen. Not put in to spy on you, but to alert her if you need help. In your condition you can't always press a panic button. That's why I brought you a voice activated wireless tonight."

Jenni seemed surprised by the idea, but a camera was so logical. She pointed to the microwave oven in her room. Sure enough, I found a webcam there. I didn't disable it. I merely turned in around, as if the table had been bumped and twisted aside. She watched me study the room. I was an expert in things electronic. I found another, nudged it slightly, and it monitored the far wall, the one displaying a Picasso print.

She felt overjoyed. She realized I was setting things up so have close physical contact with her without anybody knowing about it. She had that thrill of a girl waiting to fuck the man she loved.

Her eyes were still closed, as she described the fantasy playing in her mind like a color movie. "I see you naked, but your cock is fuzzy and indistinct. That must be because I never saw your real cock. I don't even know if you're circumcised."

She stretched out her hand and touched my crotch. "O please," she said to herself, "don't push this aside." She traced the tent made by his cock. "I never saw an erect man's cock, only pictures in the internet. It feels like you're not circumcised. Am I right?

"Yes, you're right."

Suddenly she unzipped my fly and struggled to pull out my cock. I was wearing jockey shorts and it was hard to extract the cock when it was erect. Quite a trick for a girl partially paralyzed and suffering from tremors and poor coordination.

I liked her spirit and determination. She will be dead in a year, her doctor said. So she deserves good fantasizes and great orgasms. My hand moved down to help her. She whispered, "Prop my pillows, " she asked, "and move me so my head is waist high."

My cock was out. It was large and hard, and growing and getting harder still, and standing erect at a 45 degree angle.

She stared at it and smiled. "Does he have a name?"

"BigBoy. Corny, but I was twelve when I named him. And you know how teen-age goys are when it comes to their cocks.

"Yes," she said, "but somehow none of my teen age boy friends ever took his cock out in the light. It was always dark. They'd talk about it and were pleased when I rubbed it my hand over their pants but they were scared to take it out. She looked at my cock. "I see it is not circumcised. It's reddish brown, more than your normal skin?"


"I saw pictures, but that doesn't prepare a girl for the thrill she feels when she sees one for real."

She tried to move her hand upward, but didn't have the coordination. Sometimes when excited she lost muscular control. I took her right hand and put it on the shaft of my cock.

"It's so warm, so hard. So big. Will it fit in my tiny hole?"

"Your hole will stretch. Hurt the first time, but there will be no first time. As I said, it is illegal and if caught, I could go to jail as if I were molesting a minor."

That didn't faze her. She stared in mute wonder. "Does rubbing it make it bigger? I read something like that."

"It can't get much bigger. Rubbing might make it smaller."


"It might ejaculate, and then it's likely to soften."
She kept rubbing. "I want to see it cum. Please."

"If it does come, it'll be soft and you can forget about fucking."

"Good. Is that a good conclusion to this?"

What could I say? I was ready to explode. Big boy was so big and hard and the skin was tight like a balloon ready to explode. "Its so sensitive and unprepared. Rubbing hurts it." She backed off, as if she had done something terrible. "A little lubrication would help." Actually, I was anxious to ejaculate. I'd feel relieved and then I wouldn't have to confront her other requests.

"What can I do?" this was her space but she was helpless in bed and I didn't know the layout, like what was in the various dresser and bathroom cabinet drawers. "Saliva works," I said.


"Sounds vulgar?" She nodded in agreement. "Put him in your mouth. He'll come out lubricated. Like your hands too."

She understood. She guided BigBoy into her mouth and once out again, it stood up proud in front of her, inches away from her face, pointed directly at her nose. "Now rub him,"

"It is slippery and look. He is getting even bigger." A few more strokes and she said, "He's sort of thumping.

She was likely to see it spurt whether she wanted to see it or not. "We can't have semen stains on your bed. It's pulsing. Is it going to come?"

"Maybe. I'm trying to hold it back.

"What do we do?"

I was thinking of reaching for a handkerchief, but I didn't carry any. "Your mouth."

She was surprised. In fact her lips show a perfectly round O. "I can't stop him. He's coming. Watch."

My first shot of cum hit her in the face, the second her breast, but then I got my cock in her mouth, just an inch, as it erupted for the third spurt.

Good girl. She didn't cough. Her mouth took the rest of my load without gagging and then, knowing she had to get rid of the evidence, she swallowed it all.

She looked so happy. She mopped up the sticky white fluid with her finger and lovingly put her finger in her mouth to lick it clean. With each taste she smiled a thank-you toward me. Even as my cock shrank and I tucked it back into my pants, her face glowed with a rare ecstasy. I didn't zip up my pants. I let my cock hang out so she could see what a flaccid cock looked like. She had the imagination to appreciate the difference.

"I have to go. I have another appointment."

"A sexy girl?"

"A forty year old man in a wheel chair who needs a new program in his voice translator. I bent down to kiss her, licking up the semen on her face. Then I leaned over and kissed her left nipple and licked up the cum on her tit. I then used the pillowcase to wipe her body clean. "Your body is quite clean. The pillow case will smell of me," I told her. It will remind you of me when you go to sleep or have your fantasy tonight.

I bent down to kiss her good-bye. It was a mouth-to-mouth, lover's kiss, not a polite quick kiss on the cheek. Her mouth formed a seal against mine and she pushed some fluid into my mouth. Semen! She saved a bit between her teeth and cheek and returned some of my own semen to me. What a girl! I was really sorry I had to leave. I held BigBoy, let him wave good-bye, and tucked him away and zipped up.

"Pleasant dreams and orgasmic fantasies."

"No," she said suddenly. "Don't go."

I walked up to her and said softly, "I have an appointment in a half hour."

"Please, take out BigBoy once more." I wondered what she was up to.

She reached out but her arm wasn't strong enough to reach it. I put her hand on BigBoy.

"He's getting harder. When will he be able to do it again?"

"Fifteen minutes. But it'll take a half hour for him to be like new again."

"Please. I sucked your cock and you came in my mouth. It's only fair you fuck my cunt and squirt your juices into my bottom. Finish the job.

"I love you, Jeremy. I do. Even if you don't love me, please take a chance and do what the girl who loves you needs and needs so badly. I never had sex. I beg you again. In a few months I'll die a virgin, a girl who never was fucked, who never had a man make love to her, who never knew what it was like to have the cock of the man she loved squirt its seed into, a girl who loved but was not loved in return. I understand you may not love me, but men fuck girls they don't love all the time."

"What a guilt trip you're dumping on me."

"Does following the letter of the law mean so much to you that you would break my heart?"

"If all I mean to you is a good fuck, I just might do it. You'd get over me, maybe find another guy, but I'm talking you really falling in love with me, not just being fucked by a guy you hardly know. A casual fuck doesn't break a heart. Great as love is, when it goes wrong it devastates you. You may not die of cancer but of a broken heart."

"I already love you. If you leave me stranded I will die of a broken heart. Ask the doctor. He'll say the only reason I'm still alive is I have this strong will to live. He doesn't know why, but the reason is you. Abandon me, I'll be dead of severe depression, a broken heart."

I looked at her softly. It was obvious. I was her whole world, her reason for hanging on to life. I knew how she dreaded what was ahead. Pain, tubes stuffed into her body, death in a hospital, her once beautiful body shriveled up and dissipated. I believe you," I said softly, kissing her lightly, no tongue.

I made a call on my cell phone. "I'm sorry, Fred, an emergency. I'll be there first thing tomorrow. OK?"

I looked at Jenni. "We have the night." She smiled.

"We'll do this my way," I told her. "You have much to learn. By exposing your tits and wet pussy, you did cause an erection, but it excited me to want your body, to fuck you, and then leave you, maybe never come back or maybe putting you in my date book as someone to use if I was horny and needed someone to fuck. That's not what you want of me."

"If that's all I can get from you, I'll take it," she said. "But I was hoping for something better."

I put her back on her pillows and sat beside her. My voice was gentle, more like a parent talking to a child than a man about to take a girl's cherry. I said, "I think I can give you a gift. Something better than sex and love."

"What could be better?"

"Sex and love, yes. But the gift is knowing, really knowing how to use them for something even better. Something urgent.

"It may take an hour. Maybe all night. Are you strong enough for a long session of intense sexual excitement, stronger than anything you ever felt before?"

"For this, I certainly am strong. What are you going to do? Whatever it is. I trust you. I want it."

"We start by making your fantasies stronger, so intense you they seem more real than reality itself."

"They are intense. They re real."

"But not enough to receive my gift."

She looked puzzled, but anxious. I suspected she thought I was going to teach her how to live in her fantasy world and ignore the suffering to which her impending death had doomed her. But the gift I wanted to give her was more than that.

"There are several scripts. We'll explore the fantasy you already started, where we are on our first date and I take you home. Next week we could be long time lovers looking for variety in your sex life by doing something kinky, but for that you have to start with a few moves that aren't perverse. Later on I could an incubus who appears in your bedroom at night and either rapes or seduces you, the choice is yours.

"I like the first script where I take you home after a hot date. First we had a get-acquainted drink. Then a Broadway show, followed by a late night dinner and then I take you home. So let me put some dressy clothes on you. Real clothes, not your fantasy wardrobe."

"The closet behind you. The red and black cocktail dress. I never wore it. I got it after my cocktail party days were over. Wishful thinking."

I got her clothes and she tried to cooperate as I dressed her. Actually I stripped her naked and started with her bra, "The hook is between the tits," she said, and then lifted up her ass to put on her panties. That was the extent of her undergarments. I helped her into her cocktail dress and buttoned it. "Then your bolero on top. It's slightly chilly and it emphasizes your breasts." I had her lie down flat on her bed so she could see what she looked like in the ceiling mirror.

"My shoes, the black four inch heels. Haven't worn heels for five years."

She did look beautiful.

"You're pretty good at dressing a girl." She loved to tease me.

"I just go through the opposite steps I use when I undressed her."

"You never undressed me. Taking off my nightgown isn't undressing me."

"I will, eventually."

"How many girls have you stripped naked? What I'm hinting at is, how many have you had sex with?"

"Generally, I don't kiss and tell, nor do I screw and squeal. But this seems important to you. I've done it more than once with maybe twenty, thirty different girls in the last fifteen years for a total of several hundred times. But not that many sessions. I often do it more than once in an overnight. Then there are a number of one nighter or five minute quickies, but they don't count if I no longer remember the girl's name. But I'm sort of average for a sexually active guy."

"Very active I'd say." A pause and with wonder in her voice, "A five minute quickie. That's how long Granny boils an egg. Hardly time to do a couple of ins and outs and a final squirt."

"Where'd you get terms like that?"

"Reading about sex while you were out doing it. The thing I did over the last few years was watch porn and masturbate because that was something I'd never experience."

"Forget about doing it yourself. I'm going to do you this time. Remember, we're on a big date. Our first together. I'm experienced with women, but you are now a healthy career girl who never had sex because you didn't find the right man. You're fussy. I took you on a date, but you wonder if you should wait for a third date before we talk about sex. We already know we like to kiss each other. Since this is in public we don't do too much kissing and nuzzling, and you don't put your hand between my legs to make me big. Our first date and you don't want to seem like an exhibitionist."

"No fun. What do we do? I mean at the café, not when we get back home."

"I want the world to think you are a lady in public, but I'd enjoy it if people looking at you wondered if you were hot sexpot in private. Being a lady, projecting your femininity, and subtly displaying your sexuality is something you would have been very good at.

"We want to get to know each other, learn about the person. I don't come out and ask, "Do you fuck?" but at times I steer the conversation into subjects that tell me much about you, and tells you about me. We both wonder if we might be serious boy and girl friends, or if we might sooner than later be lovers, maybe lovers in the sense we frequently have sex, maybe lovers in the sense of really falling in love."

"Not potential lovers. Dammit Jeremy, I'm going to be your lover, at least for tonight."

"Hush. We're on our first date. We're not complete strangers, but on the date we tell things that we would never say if we meet casually at work during the day.

"So we talk. I tell you how I started my custom electronic business of making and modifying electronic equipment for homebound and bedridden patients, things we might talk about under the candle light of a café as I hold your hand.

"But on the way home in the taxi, my arm goes around your shoulder and my hand lies cupped on your breast. You looked at me and smiled that mischievous grin of yours and you place your hand on my crotch."

Suddenly her hand was inside his pants, squirming around and wrapped itself around his erection. "No, not yet for real. Do it in your vision. But tell me what you see." She stopped, and in the voice of the dreamer she said. I just pulled your cock out. It's all wet with precum. It's real this time. Solid, I'm using my hand on him. I don't want to bend down an suck him, least the cabby would see me." A yelp of excitement. He's watching in the mirror! To hell with him. I'm bending over you to suck Big Boy. God, is he a giant so much bigger than last time. I bet your cock here is over twelve inches long. I love it. I love it. It's pulsing, quivering. I think he's gonna cum." There was wonder in her voice. "Yes he's coming. It hit me in the face. Tastes like this celery soda Granny gets at Jewish deli. It's still squirting. Must be a cup of cum. All over the back seat of the cab too."

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Romantic / Heterosexual / First /