Jen's Legacy.
There comes a time.....

“Royce?” He wondered what else she would ask him to do in this emotionally precarious state he was in.

But she didn’t ask anything, as he leaned over her, looking into her eyes.

Instead, she reached out and put her fingers over the top of his undershorts to one side of where there was an obvious problem, and slowly pulled them away from him, knowing what she would find, if she dared continue.

Surprised, even shocked by what she was doing, he put his hand over hers and stopped her, suddenly awake to what she was doing.

“I don’t want to scare you, Claire, as I fear I will.”

He didn’t want to scare her, but he didn’t want to stop her either.

“The naked male body can be... shocking, at first. It is not as attractive as a woman’s body, ‘especially’….” He fell silent, feeling her continue; over-riding him as she turned them down his legs anyway, either not hearing what he said, or not wanting to hear. She did not hesitate, nor did she have her eyes closed as she revealed something she knew about, but had never been so close to, or seen in such detail before.

He couldn’t stop her now, and wouldn’t. He was too excited for that, and this progression between them was overdue. She was slowly revealing the ‘especially’ part of what he’d said. ‘Especially’ when he was aroused and ready for battle, using that strangely intimidating and forceful weapon.

She could see what that meant for herself, sending her mouth dry, and beginning to wonder what she was inviting.

She pushed those fears aside. Every woman in love had to face this moment somewhere in her life, and she would not waste any more time worrying about going forward when there was so much that she could lose if she did not act.

She seemed to have made up her mind about a few things.

She looked up at him, still blushing and amazed by her own courage. “Let us agree, Royce, that if I am to be naked in your company, to let the air flow over my body to help me, then we should be that way together. It’s only fair, and then I will not feel so shy or so left out.”

He could not argue with that. He wanted to see her naked all of the time, and always would, and if that meant he had to be naked too, then so be it.

She continued to move his underwear down his legs and off him. What she revealed standing forth, was almost entirely foreign to her, coming from the sheltered world she had spent her life in. She’d heard it described to her in admiring detail by a few bold friends at school, who had been prepared to shock their listeners about its attributes and prowess in sexual combat with them, leaving them dazed at the speed with which things happened to them once their panties had come off, to reveal the promised land.

She wanted to laugh, but nervously. He was more prominent and obvious than she'd remembered seeing at the beach.

The girls she’d listened to as they'd described one of these; their undoubtedly-questionable experiences with it and the man behind it, as well as the little she’d read, had not prepared her for this moment, but it didn’t matter.

This breathtaking item was an extension of Royce, the man she loved, so she would love and embrace this too (a strange thought), though it was… yes, it was… intimidating, and it was designed, and destined to go into her body, into that tight little quim of hers; into her vagina that she knew was far too small to accommodate any of this.

Nonetheless, all of it would eventually go into her when she decided that it would, or he did, and not just the tip of it either, or an inch or two of it after that, but all of it.

That’s what the girls at school had said in all seriousness as they'd giggled nervously and clenched their legs together as though to keep even that thought out from invading their bodies. They had also played-down the obvious discomfort—pain—that would also be part of that initial invasion, saying that it was better just to grit your teeth and to get it over with... if she was even given a choice about it... and to put that first difficult moment behind her. But to make sure she was lubricated with something first.

Now, she was faced with that difficult moment, herself.

She remembered what he’d said about not wanting to scare her.

“I am not scared, Royce.” She didn’t sound convincing.

She was fooling herself. She was scared, though perhaps she was more apprehensive and not sure what to expect, than truly scared.

She backtracked, and could not meet his eyes. “I will try not to be scared, Royce, but I am experiencing many different feelings and emotions since you came into my life such a short time ago, and these feelings and what is happening are all strange to me, too.”

But not as strange as the item she was close to, and studying closely, as though introducing herself to it.

‘Hello, I am Claire. Pleased to meet you. We are going to become firm and intimate friends you and I, I hope. Though not too quickly, I hope.’

Her only uncertainty was in knowing how to move things forward, unless she had courage enough to do more… if she touched… held…?

She persisted. “You could lie down with me here, Royce, and we could talk and… touch, learn about each other, and play. We have so little time to learn about each other.” She was blushing up at him, awed, as well as intimidated.

She could see his proud, porcellanous member, standing to rigid attention just for her, sticking out alarmingly from his body. It was a presence that she could never ignore, and he was looking at her, waiting for her to make up her mind about something; whether to encourage him forward, or not to encourage him, but to make up her mind before it got too late to turn back.

She was enthralled by it, fascinated, mesmerized.

Finding courage from somewhere, she reached out and touched him (hard, and very little, ‘give’), then gained enough confidence to grasp cautiously, then to take hold of him firmly (rigidly hard, but alive), leaning in to kiss it, feeling how ‘alive’ it was in her hand.

‘What the hell was she doing?’

Could this be her; this sweet, innocent, Claire, of just yesterday, doing this shocking thing, today, that she could not have imagined doing in a thousand years? Thank god no one she knew could see her.

Yes, This was her, and this amazing item would soon belong to her. All she had to do was claim ownership and take possession of it however she dared to do, and in a way about which there could be no possible doubt.

But she was too small for this!

It was moving in her hand with a life of its own, growing with her touch even more, with the strangely shaped mushroom-like ‘head’ upon it, pulsing; swelling to his heartbeat or as he tensed-up in some way with her touch, and even as she watched it, stretching that thin skin covering its shaft, to the point of splitting, and bursting out of it like a butterfly from its cocoon. But the skin moved upon him easily too, so it was fairly loose, and her touch; her moving that skin, set him gasping and reaching out to hold her hand still. Did her touch, so excite him? It did, just as his, affected her. She wanted him to touch her.

She was not sure how this would progress, never having faced this moment before.

Royce was concerned for her, knowing her thoughts. The first time for most young women was a moment of concern. She was being boldly aggressive, but not much more aggressive than Jen had been when they had been at this crucial stage early in their relationship, and she had known what she’d wanted.

She'd wanted him! All of him! With no hesitation.

Claire went even further, much further, as though someone else, rather than her, was saying the words for her, moving her lips, causing her to utter such daring thoughts. Surely it could not be her?

“I would like you to make love to me, Royce; as a man and a woman in love, as we are, should do, and as we so obviously need to.”

What would her grandmother think of her doing this, being so bold as to throw away her reputation like this and to invite a man into her body to become intimately familiar with her, to make love to her? And it would be making love, and not that other dispassionate, remote, and more vulgarly described act at first, and that was the animal process that would need to be invoked to ensnare him without a second’s thought about it, except it would not be so easy. He was too considerate of her, but she knew that it was only a temporary denial. No man could resist what she was offering him. She hoped.

Why did she not feel ashamed?

But she would need to feel guilty, to feel shame, and she would never feel guilty about this. She would always marvel at how she had found this man (or him, her) and brought him into her life in the only way possible considering what was facing him. If she didn’t achieve this, soon, then that failure would affect her, destroying her life too.

He had to close his eyes (Oh, god, how he wanted and needed to make love to her) and he wondered if this could really be happening to him. Had she really found courage enough to do this so soon in this relationship? He knew what he felt and what she was doing to him. She would never let up with him until she’d got her way.

They both were aware of their growing love for each other, but they had not had chance to discuss it openly, as was always needed before this kind of thing happened between them. That would also have to change, and quickly, with this new development.

So, the order would be reversed. What did it matter? They loved each other.

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