Monica

Almost every college freshman I knew or heard of was coolerthan me -- not to mention that they all had lost their cherries.Except me. Hell, I hadn't even gotten a good case of stinkfinger, unless you can count scratching your own ass. Instead of spending that first year getting out there andcopping some actual pussy like the rest of the known world, Icontinued doing what had occupied my last year and a half of highschool: shooting up at the dark ceiling at night, aiming betweenthe legs of the hovering mental image of a writhing, moaning,very erotic Monica. My roommate Darrell never gave up. Every couple weeks he wouldtry to get me to go out with a friend of a friend. `Guaranteedsquat' or `Best head in Lambda Chi' he'd tout with enthusiasm.But I always found a reason to go to the library or stay in thedorm. Yeah, I know how crazy that sounds. Go figure. 'Course, Ididn't end my freshman year screaming and trying to tear theurinal out of the wall when I took a piss like Darrell did. Iguess it's true that God takes care of angels and idiots, and Iknow that I'm no angel. I had no idea what had happened at home since I had left forschool, but the atmosphere between Dad and Monica when I cameback for the summer was, for the first time in my awareness,uncomfortable. After the first few days, Dad seemed to alwayshave to work late, and Monica and I just sort of had to lookafter each other in his extended absences. I didn't mind. I continued to worship the heavenly body myfather had somehow hooked into marriage during my junior year inhigh school. I remember the Tuesday with perfect clarity -- like it was thismorning. Monica lay on a deck lounger in my favorite peachbikini, baking to a gorgeous bronze while hiding behindsunglasses and a magazine. I spent an hour hiding my boner whilekeeping my face turned toward her, staring from the tiny slits ofmy squinting eyes. `God, you're wonderful,' I kept zapping herwith ESP. I couldn't see her eyes, but pretended that she waswatching me with a matching hunger. And receiving my messages. "Warren's going to Cleveland this afternoon," she saidsuddenly, wetting a finger on her pink tongue to turn a page ofher mag. "For a two-day seminar. Did he tell you?" "Nah," I mumbled. I turned and sat up, then slid into thechill water of the pool in a single motion. When I camesputtering up near her chaise, I grinned at her. "Course, itwon't be like I'll miss him -- no more'n he's home these days,anyway." It wasn't a kind thing to say, but Monica didn'tcomment. I made a few laps and got fairly presentable before climbingback up on the deck. Then I sat there beside Monica, kicking the water with my feet. "You're going to burn, Danny," she said quietly. "Nah," I grinned over my shoulder. "I'll mend my ways beforeit's too late." She smiled back, but I still couldn't see her eyes. "Silly!Better let me put some sun block on your back," she offered,holding up the brown bottle. "Thanks," I said, and moved closer. Monica sat up and madegood on her offer. I hunched over to hide my resurgentembarrassment as the firm strokes of her hands mesmerized me. Now, of course, I know better; but at the time, just thethought of having someone see me with an erection was enormouslyhumiliating. I guess my attitude had been built in the gymshowers after football practice in high school, when the guys allmade fun of me. Tall and terribly skinny, I would go to most anylengths to hide myself from their taunts, but, let's face it,when you actually step into the communal shower, there's reallyno way to keep a towel wrapped around your waist, withoutreceiving even more scoffs and jeers. I was a pretty fair passreceiver in those days, but even now, whenever I run into one ofthe guys I played with, the main topic of conversation is the wayI looked in the shower, with my cock slapping my legs nearly downto the knees. "There," she said with dreadful finality. She dropped thebottle over my shoulder. "You better do the rest of you, too." I obeyed my stepmother, slathering lotion all over me. "Whatabout you?" I said. "You're getting to be a nice shade of red,yourself." "Yeah," she agreed, looking herself over nearly as thoroughlyas I was doing at the same moment. "I think I'll go in, though.How about something decadent for lunch? Like cheeseburgers ..." "Sure," I agreed. "Extra grease on mine and hold the veggies." She turned with a laugh, stood up and took my breath away asshe made her way slowly to the steps at the shallow end. Iwatched her enter the water until it lapped at those marvelous,skimpily covered globes, then stand there applying handfuls ofwater to her shoulders and arms, and, God help me, her cleavage. Never before or since have I seen another female body likeMonica's -- not in the flesh. From her dark blond head with itssteady blue eyes, pouting full lips and sensuous overbite, to herpretty little feet, Monica was the well-stacked, curvaceous stuffof little boys' fantasies. Hell, grown men's fantasies, too.Five-nine and a hundred-forty pounds packed full, round andtight, with a softness about her, like a layer of wondrouspadding, that I find impossible to describe. I could see Dad falling for her, I could see him throwing hiswealth and charm at her to win her and marry her... What Icouldn't see was anything that could possibly be important enoughat the office, or in Cleveland, for that matter, to keep him awayfrom her so much of the time. The only change in her attire for lunch was an unbuttonedshirt over her damp suit. I had trouble keeping my eyes inneutral as I wolfed down the first of two burgers while Monicapicked daintily at her patty and cottage cheese. She kept her eyes down most of the time, and there was a deafening silence between us. I finally found the courage to say,"Can I ask you something ... it's pretty personal, I guess." She smiled with her eyes, and I about choked. "Sure," shemurmured. "Are you and Dad... okay? I mean..." Monica sat with fork poised over her plate, and something likepain clouded her doubtful, searching eyes. She sighed finally anddropped her fork on her plate, then sat back in her chair withher hands in her lap. She kept looking at my face, into my eyes. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, then hid behind a double mouthful ofcheeseburger. "No, don't be," Monica said quietly. "You have a right toask..." Clearly, talking was going to be a struggle for her. Alone tear breached the levee and tracked her downy smooth cheek. "ID I really don't know what it is, Danny," she said at last,and then her face lost the battle and went into the pinched, pre-weeping mode. "But something's dreadfully wrong..." She snortedand sobbed, then dropped her face into her hands. "... and I haveno idea what to do about it!" Oh, shit. I have consumed my share of foot in my time, butthat had to be the most uncomfortable I'd ever been, up to thatpoint. "God, Monica," I managed in a damnably trembling voice, "IDI'm sorry. I mean..." She raised her face and smiled at me through the tears, thenshook her head. "It's okay, Danny," she said. "It's nice to beable to talk to somebody about it, you know?" She snorted andwiped at her cheeks. "I mean, I can't talk to just anybody aboutstuff like that." I think I may have been trying to hide from her, but it tookthe form of moving behind Monica's chair and massaging hershoulders and neck, lightly and tentatively at first, then withmore strength as I became certain it was welcome. After a time ofgrunts and whimpers, as I slowly loosened the taut cords ofmuscle, her gorgeous head fell back against my convulsing belly."Oh, Danny," she sighed. "I'll give you 'til dark to stop that!" I laughed, and so did she. The stormy mood seemed to have fledand she began to talk, softly and hesitantly at first, thenbreathlessly and with obvious pain. And anger -- a hell of a lot ofanger. I couldn't believe my ears. My old man was a real shit.Not only that, but he must have lost half his brain in the war. Imean, we're not talking Kenl-Ration breath. The most gorgeousthing in the world, languishing in his house, starved foraffection and he treated her like a trophy on the wall. And itwas clear that Monica had a right to her suspicions that he wasout looking to bag more trophies. I bent and kissed her scalp and Monica's hand reached backautomatically and caressed my neck. "You're sweet," she murmured."Letting me go on like this..." I shook my head and murmured, "No, Monica. I'm not sweet. It'sjust that I -- I love you, you know?" I was struggling. "I mean,you mean an awful lot to me and I hate to see you hurting so..." I was hard as a branding iron, and the gentle caress on myneck did nothing to ease the situation. But I'd have remainedbent in half like that for days before I would have voluntarily asked her to stop. But she did stop, and I straightened, hoping with flamingcheeks that she wouldn't turn and see my embarrassing condition.I mean, the sucker was sticking straight out over my left pelvicbone... a wrap-around, so to speak. Oh, God! She did stand, with a small sigh, and she did turn.While I slowly died, she moved to me and reached up to draw meinto a breathlessly tight hug. "Thanks, Danny," she murmured finally, her head against mychest. "I guess I really needed to spout off." She tilted herhead back and peered up into my stupid grin. "You know, you'reeven nicer than I always suspected." That got a laugh, and then amoan when her arms squeezed around my middle, pressing against methe softest mounds of actual flesh I had ever felt. She peered up at me again, this time for several counts andwithout a trace of a smile. "You know what would be nice?" shemurmured finally. There was something new and unfamiliar in herwide blue eyes, something I was certain I was reading wrong. I didn't trust my voice, so just shook my head. But believeme, I truly did know what would be nice. "A wine cooler on ice, I think," she mused, still resting herbreasts heavily against willing old me. "And some more of yourexcellent massage -- you have remarkable hands, Danny. Big andstrong, but nice and gentle. I like that. Do you mind?" Somehow the gagging fear inside me permitted me to answer,"Oh, no. I don't mind at all. I got no plans this afternoon..."What a dweeb! She smiled up at me, and I couldn't catch my breath. Shereleased her arms from the hug, and I took a welcome breath, butcouldn't catch her hands before they slid down my ribs to myhips. It was an eminently innocent move, preparatory to parting,but her right hand came to rest briefly on the embarrassinglylarge and very painful bulge across my pelvis. Her eyes widenedmomentarily, then Monica smiled again, a sweet friendly smile, inno apparent hurry to remove her hand. She pressed against meagain, reaching up for a quick, friendly kiss, and I nearly felldown when she retreated. "You want one?" she called from the open fridge. I hesitated only a moment before nodding, and Monica hummedquietly as she fixed our tall icy glasses. There was something inher eyes, in her smile -- her very being -- that I had never seenbefore, and I liked the hell out of it. She led the way through the den, down the narrow corridor tothe spa. "This okay?" she asked, dimming the overhead light. "Yeah. Fine," I stuttered. "You want to find us some music? I'll start the heater in casewe feel like a dip later, okay?" "Sure." I retreated to the den and found an oldies station,then switched the output to the jacuzzi speakers. When I returnedMonica was stretched out on the padded rubdown table, face down,sans shirt. The jacuzzi jets were roaring, and slivers of steamrose from the roiling water. I took a deep slug before setting the glass down and standingover Monica. I was in a panic over where to start and how toproceed without getting into really deep shit. Since she said nothing, I started on her arms and shoulders, and let her grunts and groans of pleasure lead the way down her back. The string of her bikini top was in the way, but I maneuvered around it. Through no stretch of imagination could I have pulled the bow and moved it out of the way. Occasionally, Monica rose to her elbows to drink from her glass, then dropped back down with a sighing sound that I interpreted as "more". At length, she turned to look over her marvelous shoulder."You getting tired?" she whimpered, the glazed look in her eyesgiving me the answer of choice. "No, Monica, not at all," I replied, and was rewarded by anenormous languid smile. She turned and drained her glass anddropped again. I wanted to do those fabulous legs -- God, how I wanted to. "You wanna do my legs?" she asked without looking. "Er, sure," I said, wondering briefly and uncomfortably if shecould read my mind. "There's a bottle of oil in that second drawer over there,"she said in a voice muffled in the crook of her arm. "You couldoil my skin while you work, if you don't mind." "No-of-course-not." Monica laughed prettily. "You know, I could get used to havinga geisha boy as nice as you." I laughed, too. I could get used to being one, I thought butdid not say. Funny how the subject of my dad hadn't come up since we'd leftthe kitchen. Funny how it didn't come up while I worked the slickscented oil into those extraordinary gams. In the midst of a series of moans and whimpers, Monica turnedon the table and lay looking up at me for a very long count."What?!" I finally muttered, wondering if I had gone too far. She didn't smile, didn't blink for several moments. I staredat the strawberry blond hair fanned on the table beneath herhead, at the breasts bulging in overmatched bikini cups, at thenarrow waist moving as she breathed heavily. Heavily, I said. "I was just wondering..." she whispered at last. Whatever it was, the answer was not going to be maybe! "What?"I asked again, as quietly as she had spoken. I guess my red faceand staring eyes had already given her the answer. "Whether you're a confidential kind of guy," she mused, a lazyhand now stroking my arm, mussing its hair. "You know," shecontinued, "the kind of friend a girl could let her hair downwith, and not have to worry whether anyone would find out." "Monica!" I moaned. It was a harsh sound, from a painedbreast. "Don't wonder! God, I-" I couldn't express what I wasfeeling. "I know," she soothed, without needing further assurance. "Doyou like me, Danny?" It was a whisper of sound barely audibleover the roaring jets behind me. "God, yes, Monica!" I moaned, unable to hold her intense gaze."You're wonderful! You're beautiful! I- I'm afraid I'll make afool out of myself, I like you so much!" I was nearly crying now. "Yes. I like you, too, Danny," she murmured, letting her handmove up my arm, making me bend a bit as she caressed my shoulder."Do you think I'm pretty?" "Didn't you hear me?!" I bawled with a harsh grunt of laughter. "You're beautiful!" She savored that with a small smile before saying, "You are,too, Danny. Did you know that?" I shook my bowed head, aching to touch her but afraid. "No, Ididn't think so," she added. "You never act like guys who knowthey're beautiful. I find that awfully attractive in a man." I lifted my eyes in hope, in anticipation. Her eyes joined herlips in a smile and she nodded reassuringly. "Wouldn't it bewonderful if we could be the kind of friends who can trust eachother with anything? I mean, anything?" I nodded eagerly. "We can be, Monica," I said fervently. After a pause, during which her eyes moved all about my face,she said, "So, do you think you'd like to be my geisha boy for alittle while?" She wet the tip of her tapered finger between herlips, then pressed it to my erect nipple. I nodded emotionally. "Oh, yes -- a long while!" I whined, thencleared my throat. It wasn't manly to whine. Monica laughed. "I warn you, though," she said, "I can be pretty demanding." I shook my head. "I don't care!" "Then," she said with a steady gaze into my enraptured eyes,"the first thing I want is for you finish oiling my skin -- okay?And no more being bashful, Danny. Your hands are driving mecrazy, and I want to feel them all over my body. Do youunderstand? My whole body!" She laughed at her own words, turningthem into a pun, and I laughed, too, although, my laugh trembleda lot more than hers. She reached for me with open hand and I bent to her kiss,surprised at first by its intensity, then responding openly. Ourmoans co-mingled, and my heart raced until I feared it wouldpound its way free. When we broke, with small parting smacks ofour wet lips, Monica murmured, "Nice... very nice, Danny." I smiled down at her lighted eyes. Then she pouted prettily."You know, I'm afraid the oil will ruin my suit. Can you thinkhow we might prevent that?" "Only one way I can think of," I managed to quip back. Monicalaughed at the answer in my saucer-wide eyes. "Goody!" she giggled, and turned back over on the pad to waitimpatiently. With trembling fingers I untied the bow at her back,then let her lift from the tabletop before I tried to pull itfree. Next came the bottoms, with equal success. Monica stretched like a cat, then lay limp with her feetdangling over the sides of the table as I resumed oiling herskin. I was no longer felt bashful, just ready to burst with need and desire. I stroked and probed gleefully and with abandon,relishing the squeals and harsh moans of my beloved Monica. "Oh, Danny!" she whimpered at last, and turned toward me. Istared unabashedly at her heavy naked breasts. "You've got meturned just about all the way on!" "Yeah," I agreed with no small degree of passion. "I know howthat feels!" "I said just about, Danny," she said. "Taste my breasts beforeyou oil them," she simpered in a little girl voice. Her hand slidbetween my trembling legs as I bent eagerly to obey. She held my head and neck with her free hand and let me feed for a long time, as she continued to stoke the fire in my loins."God, you're so big and strong!" she gasped into my ear, then bitthe lobe hard, bringing a hard squeal from my busy mouth. "I'mafraid you'll get oil on your nice suit, too," she whispered witha throaty chuckle. I conveyed an eagerly affirmative answer without lifting mymouth from its work at her enormous nipple, and Monica began atedious process of pushing the trunks over my hips. "Oh, my," shewhimpered when she grasped my naked hardness. "I believe I'mreally in love!" I couldn't help laughing, and the embarrassed laugh wouldn'tstop, no matter how hard I tried. Monica laughed, too, but hadpresence of mind enough to say, "Now you can oil my breasts,Danny." I bent to the task with eagerness, even as tears streaked downmy cheeks from the continued laughing. Monica found a simple wayto stop the giggles, measuring my eagerly bouncing cock, handover hand. "He's a beauty, Danny," she said softly, "a prize. Doyou know how to use him?" I probably gave myself away with my eyes, but if not,certainly with the shake of my head. Monica smiled -- actually alecherous grin. "I could teach you," she whispered. "Wouldn't that be fun?" "Oh, Monica," I moaned. "Please!" I buried my feverish face inher neck, glorying in the way her arms responded by wrappingaround my torso, her hands by stroking my back and buttocks. Ifelt her face nudging, pressing, and I turned and lifted my mouthinto the moving, moaning grasp of hers. She writhed slowlybeneath me like nothing I had ever dreamed of. "Touch me," she gasped against my ardent mouth, and I obeyedinstantly, to find her legs drawn up and widely open, the solesof her feet pressed together. The flesh of her inner thighs wascreamy smooth and searing hot; the upward bounce of her hipsagainst my hand were my marching orders and I slid my fingertipsinto the gushing well of her torment. "Oh, God, Danny!" she whispered, "I need it so bad! Sticksomething in and make it go away -- fuck me with your fingers!" I had seen movies and all, but never had an actual femaleperson said anything remotely like that to me. It's safe tospeculate that Monica didn't pick it up on her Sundays at church,either. My ardor shrieked off the scale and I began sawing one,then a pair of soaked fingers in her pussy. She tugged at my hairand drew me to her heaving breast. "Suck!" she hissed, and fed mea gorgeous tit. "Oh, Danny, you're doing me so good, baby! It'sgoing to be so good. You won't believe!" I could believe, honest. She had hold of my pecker by now,and, frankly, was hurting the hell out of it. But no way was Igoing to release that yummy tit and say anything. "Now, Danny!"she nearly shouted, "it's time, Baby! Stay with me now!" I felther pulling with a frenzy, and went with the flow, ending upkneeling between her outstretched legs on top of the table,staring in disbelief at her writhing, apparently tortured torso.Thank God she remained in the leading mode, 'cause I was damnedif I knew how to get from here to there. I just knew there had tobe a way. Monica arched her back fetchingly, extended her arms to me and poked me in the ass with a pair of very talented feet. "Now,Danny!" she bawled, and drew me upon her. She held me fiercely to her and reached between us for mycock. She arched once more and I suddenly felt the most gloriousscalding wetness envelop me. I might have screamed, but herbreast jabbed me in the mouth as my hips began pumping at thewell. I guess some things are just instinctive. "Yes!" she bawled in my ear at 100 decibels, meeting myunskilled thrusts with a vengeance. "Oh, God! It's so deep!" Shebellowed, but didn't seem like she wanted me to back off, if theharshly grunted "Fuck me deeper, Danny!" were any indication. The trouble with the best part was that it lasted only aminute before I exploded, squalling like an enraged infant. Icollapsed on her gyrating body, thrilling at the fireworks thatmade pale my most lurid dreams, but anguished that it had come tosuch a quick, abrupt end. When I could make intelligible sounds, I moaned in her neck,"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" "Jesus!" Monica said with an explosive laugh, still claspingme tightly and scrubbing her need against me. "What on earth areyou sorry about?" "That I couldn't keep going..." Monica's marvelous hands stroked the perspiration on mytrembling back and ass, her feet slid up and down the outsides ofmy legs, rocking me in her cradle. "Baby!" she said finally. "Itwas a wonderful first time! You're wonderful! There's nothing tobe sorry about." I didn't say anything, but felt a lot better. "And, besides,"she added with a laugh, "you don't really think you'll get therest of the day off, do you?" I groaned and laughed delightedly. Monica whisperedseductively, "You know what I love?" I shook my head eagerly. "Ilove the way you're going to taste with your come and my cuntjuice all over you. Come around here and let me show you." I wasn't nearly finished for that day, or the next two. Monicaand I were at the point of physical collapse by that Thursdayevening. There was so much to learn. And practice! My God, Monicawas a stickler for practice! Talk about an education! She taughtme a new set of motor skills, then spent the summer working withenormous dedication to help me refine them. Before she packed up and moved out that fall, she had mereally proficient in a whole new vocabulary, too. After all theseyears, I can still hear her hissing passionately in my ear. "Ilove it when you talk dirty to me, Danny." It still has the powerto make me rigid with lust. With no trace of embarrassment.