Chapter 2

Wanda's Story

I sat there crying in the chair outside of Brock's room in the ICU in Springfield. How had things gotten to the point that he would believe that I would cheat on him? Things had been bad for a bit but not that bad surely. He was my Knight in Shining Armor, my savior, my hero, and most importantly, my love; he had to know that didn't he? How could he think that I didn't love him? As I sat there I began remembering all that we had been through.

When we first met I was being attacked. Teddy had torn my blouse and bra and was trying to get to my panties. I looked over his shoulder and saw Brock's five foot six inch frame running in our direction. Here came this small, thin, gawky looking kid I had seen in school and I thought, "God, he's going to help Teddy rape me." Then I saw a look of utter fury come over his face and to my utter amazement he knocked Teddy out with one good kick to the balls and a powerful punch to the back of his head. He looked at me with a care and concern on his face that I had never seen before. I thought he was going to cry because I had been attacked. I think I felt the first stirrings of love for him at that moment. Not because he had saved me, but because he felt true sorrow that it had happened at all.

I actually looked at him then and found that he was very handsome. My blouse and bra were torn off and instead of ogling me like most other boys would have; Brock took off his school jacket and gave it to me before turning away so I could cover up in relative privacy. I had called the police and when they arrived I found out that not only had he defended me, he had broken his hand in the process; he had hit Teddy so hard.

Teddy eventually went to jail and I had begun to have nightmares about the attack. My parents put me into therapy with a respected psychologist, Dr. Jameson. I saw her until the end of my senior year, and then Brock and I moved to Columbia, Missouri for college.

I didn't see Brock much the rest of that first year in high school as we had no classes together. I thanked him for his help every time I saw him. I made that happen as often as I could and I had all of my friends keeping tabs on him for me. I knew when he had the brace removed from his hand and sent him an anonymous congratulations card. I knew every move he made that year. My friend, Shelia, was working as a student aide in the office when they were putting together next year's class schedules and she got me a copy of Brock's schedule and his locker assignment.

I went to my guidance councilor and had her change my schedule to match Brock's. She didn't know that was why I wanted the changes made but as the classes were the same, just at different times, she had no problem with it. Shelia changed our locker assignments so that I had the one next to Brock and she had the one next to mine.

I was in therapy from the attack and I asked my therapist, Dr. Jameson, if she thought I had an unhealthy interest in Brock. We had talked about him many times that year and she assured me that she thought that I was fine and that my interest in Brock was a good thing. I think she was concerned that I might become a frigid man-hating lesbian bitch or something; I know my mother was absolutely terrified of that possibility.

The next year Brock answered my prayers again by falling in love with me. I was already in love with him. He had changed over that summer. He had added a lot of muscle and had grown more than four inches. His latest growth spurt had him standing at six feet and very well filled out. I had driven by his work site every day that summer just so I could see him. When he confronted me at school about the changes made in our schedules I was scared to death he was going to hate me. Instead he thought about it for a long minute and smiling said, "Good. I'll get to see my angel all day long then."

My heart leapt when he called me his Angel; I couldn't believe he had said those words. I broke all of the schools regulations about PDAs (Public Displays of Affection) by kissing him then and there. We spent a lot of time together and before long had gotten to know each other inside and out. My parents were far from thrilled about it so we spent a lot of time at the park, the library, or the malls. Anywhere we could be together was fine with me. Brock was such a sweetheart. He never once pushed me to go farther than I was ready for. He told me once that making love to me would be the highlight of his life, but only when I was ready. He knew that I still woke up most nights with nightmares of Teddy trying to rape me. That doesn't mean that we didn't experiment... a lot!

I remembered our first date. Brock took me to the Cultural Arts Festival on the Torrington College campus. We walked and saw the exhibits. We agreed that some of what they called art should have been burned before it was ever displayed. We also found quite a few excellent pieces that we liked. The best part of the whole day was that I got to hold Brock's hand the whole time we were there.

I remember giving my first blowjob to Brock, my first to anyone. We had been together as a couple about six months, we were in his room -- a suite really -- and had just finished watching 91⁄2 Weeks with Kim Basinger and Mickey Rourke. I was lying on his bed using him as a body pillow and I moved my leg, rubbing my bare foot on his calf, when I felt the hard length of him in his shorts. It startled me for a moment and he started to apologize. I placed a finger on his lips as I looked up into his eyes and said, "I want to do something and I want you to let me."

He had a puzzled look on his face but nodded. I slid down rubbing my cheeks over the skin of his chest and abdomen -- he wasn't wearing a shirt -- until I was looking face to face, as it were, with his crotch. I rubbed my face across the bulge in his shorts and he let out a moan of pleasure. I curled my fingers in the fabric at his waist and began to tug his pants down. He raised his hips and let me remove the offending garment. As I started to move towards his tumescent cock he stopped me.

His hand cupped my cheek as I looked up in frustration and he asked, "Are you sure? You don't have to do this. I'm content to just hold you, always."

A tear trickled down my cheek, "I have never done this with anyone. I want to do this for you. I want to do more than just hold you; I want to love you and show you that I love only you, always."

He wiped the tear from my cheek with his thumb and sat back against the headboard of the bed as before. I had never seen a real cock before. I had read on the internet that they came in various sizes but that the average was between 6 and 6.5 inches in length and a little less than 5 inches in girth. I wasn't shocked that, like everything else about my love, he was extraordinary. His big beautiful cock I later learned was 81⁄2 inches long and over 7 inches in girth. I was going to be a very happy girl once we figured out what we were doing!

"It's magnificent!" I exclaimed. I wrapped my small hand around as much of him as I could and marveled that I could feel his pulse through the silken shaft. It felt like silk or velvet over marble, hot and thick in my hand. I lowered my head and licked the head gently as I slowly pumped my hand up and down his shaft. I was rewarded for my efforts as a pearly drop of his pre cum bubbled from the tip of his cock. I again licked and this time savored the taste of him as I ran my tongue around the head of his cock, tasting him and loving his flavor.

I know I couldn't have been very good -- it was my first after all -- but I tried my best and used everything I could remember reading on the Internet about how to please a man this way. Brock seemed to enjoy it and after what felt like an hour -- but was probably only fifteen minutes -- Brock let me know he was ready to cum. He caressed my check and said, "Sweetie, I'm gonna cum if you don't stop!"

I redoubled my efforts and in a few moments he gushed in my mouth. I swallowed as quickly as I could and came to the conclusion that the stories the girls told in school about the bitter taste were wrong. It would never be my favorite taste but it wasn't bad. The texture was odd but that was all.

The look on his face was worth anything to me when he looked at me. I sat up and started to go rinse my mouth but Brock pulled me to him and tried to kiss me! "No, Brock! Let me go rinse first!" I was scared he would not like that I had swallowed.

"You gave me the gift of taking me in your mouth and swallowing my seed; the very least I can do is be willing to kiss you after. Now come here and let me tell you how good that made me feel and let me show you how much I love you!" With that he pulled me into his arms and spent what felt like hours kissing me and holding me. He made sure that I knew he didn't think me a slut for doing that and that he loved me no matter what.

He knew which fears I had and he spent the remainder of the afternoon reassuring me and laying those fears to rest. We were short on time as I soon had to return home. My mother was grateful for Brock having rescued me but she felt I should be seeing boys who had rich fathers. My father felt that I should be dating someone who would increase our market share, not someone whose parents couldn't afford a club membership.

Brock walked me home and waited on the corner until I was inside the house before going home. The next day after school we returned to Brock's house and he spent hours making me cum over and over again with just his mouth. He told me he had never gone down on anyone but like me, had read up on it. He spent the whole afternoon perfecting his technique on me. I lost count of the orgasms I had and passed out after the last one. He cleaned me up as if I were a baby in the bath. He stroked and caressed me to another glorious climax before escorting me home.

When I returned home that night my mother actually accused me of having given my virginity away. Her exact words were, "Who have you been fucking young lady? I know that look and you have been fucking someone!" The argument we had was quite loud and I ended up grounded for a week and having to see my gynecologist.

My mother was quite embarrassed when the doctor informed her that I was virgo intacta. I was in fact still a virgin and that my hymen was indeed untouched. I demanded an apology and stormed out of the doctor's office.

I didn't go to the junior prom because they wouldn't let me go with Brock. My father arranged for Warren Petrie, the son of one of his business associates, to be my date and my mother went out and bought a dress. I never wore it. Every girl in school knew that if you went out with Warren you had to put out, refusal wasn't an option. He didn't care if you were willing, either. I had talked to several girls who said he had drugged them. No way was I going to have anything to do with him!

I had Brock pick me up at my friend Shelly's house at one on the day of the prom; we spent that whole day wrapped up in just being with each other. After lunch at the Toulon Café he bought me a beautiful solitaire pendant and said that it was for agreeing to keep him company instead of going to the dance. I took him into the mall and teased him unmercifully as I tried on lingerie and paid for it with my credit card so daddy would see it. I also made him approve of my new swimsuits at the Wicked Weasel store. I told him that after I got my first waxing then he'd have to shave me once a week.

I took him over to the cell phone kiosk and bought him the best PDA Smartphone they had and paid a year in advance on the plan using the same credit card (he later refunded the cost of the service plan to my father telling me that he didn't feel right having me pay for his airtime but he did let me buy him the phone. It cost five hundred dollars all by itself)

Brock wanted to take me home several times but I made him wait until after the prom had started before I would let him take me home. I know he hated to see me at odds with my parents considering how his parents behaved, but I wasn't about to back down and be forced to go with that prick, Warren. When we got to the house at a little after nine that night, the prom had started at seven; the drive was blocked by Warren's limo. The driver came over to us and handed us a bottle and his card and told us that Warren had spiked it. Brock got out his cell phone and called the police as I went to deal with my father.

My father came out of the house ranting like a lunatic and I let him have it both barrels. I was enraged that he would try to force me to date a slime ball like Warren Petrie. I was so focused on my father that I didn't even see Warren come up until he grabbed my arm. Warren jerked me around to face him and demanded to know who I thought I was and how I thought he would let me get away with humiliating him like this.