From: an308559@anon.penet.fi (FM)
Date: Sun,  4 Aug 1996 10:17:29 UTC
Subject: Courtship


 FICTION FROM FM: Courtship (*****, M/F, some spanking, sex)

________________________________________________________________________
Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!
Copyright (C) 1996 by FM.   All Rights Reserved.   Free distribution via
electronic medium (i.e.  the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as
long as the text is not modified and this copyright is included,  but no
other form of publication is allowed. This document may contain material
of an ADULT nature. *READ AT YOUR OWN RISK*.  Anything offensive is your
own problem.  This story is for **entertainment** purposes only and does
not necessarily represent the viewpoints of the author or the electronic
source where this was obtained.   All characters are _fictional_ and any
resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
________________________________________________________________________


                        The Courtship of a Goddess
                                   Part 1

    My name is Tom. My last name is Jefferson. Please spare me the 
routine.
I've heard them all, believe me. My mother really wanted me to go by
Thomas and was crushed when I began insisting on Tom, but I was tired of
all the ribbing.
    I am 42 years ancient. Until a miracle happened a few months ago, I 
was
miserably single. I had pretty much resigned myself to bachelorhood when
I met Samantha. This is the story of our courtship, the improbable
courtship of a geeky middle-aged wimp and a beautiful 28-year-old blonde
goddess, and the miracle that bound us together. Literally.
    First, let me tell you about myself and my history. It's really 
boring,
I know, but you won't really understand what a bombshell Samantha was in
my life if you don't know how miserable and alone I was before.
    To put it bluntly, I'm a geek. I'm a nerd, a social incompetent. I
almost always was, too. I'm not really bad looking, but I'm awkward and
I don't carry myself well. For instance, I'm very tall, 6'5", but I'm
useless at sports. Too clumsy. I'm also extremely thin and frail, though
lately that's changing.
    I wear glasses, of course, and I'm extremely studious. I'm an engineer
for Boeing. My work is really my life, or has been. Sometimes I'll work
all night on a particularly tricky problem, trying to come up with a
solution. Most people just use technology and have no real appreciation
for how truly difficult the design and engineering is.
    My lack of social skills isn't all my fault. My father was a Colonel 
in
the Army. Our home was run like a military camp. Order and formality
were the rules. At school when the other boys would be running and
playing and pulling the girl's pony tails, I'd be inside helping the
teacher dust the erasers and wash the blackboard. Needless to say that
didn't help my social standings.
    Just before high school my dad got a promotion of some sort and we had
to move to Brussels, Belgium. We thought it was going to be for a year,
but it turned out to be just six months. Then we were in Spain for four
months, and then we moved to Washington, D.C. for almost a full year. It
continued like that all during my high school years. We moved eight
times in those four years, including my senior year, just three months
prior to graduation. I had to graduate with a bunch of strangers.
    I'm not blaming everything on my dad. He was a good man, a very good
man. He loved me and cared for me, but we were never very close. I could
never discuss something intimate with him, something like my social
troubles. Besides, he would have just _ordered_ me to ask a girl out or
something, not advise me on how to do it.
    My mother was very gentle and kind. She and I got a long great during
my high school years. I was very obedient and helpful to her. I loved
her very much and though we could discuss my career and interests and
other things, I never felt comfortable discussing sex with her. She just
didn't seem the type. She'd blush just seeing a turkey baster.
    Anyway, all through high school I became extremely self-sufficient. I
studied hard and made very few friends because my studies seemed to be
the only thing that transferred with me to my new schools. I had a few
friends that promised to write and keep in touch. I never heard from
them. Perhaps they tried but we had moved on. I don't know. But it left
me feeling rather alone and not very trusting.
    College continued the tradition. I was a loner, shy and reserved,
unless it involved structural engineering or aerodynamics, my pet
hobbies. I asked a few girls out, mostly acquaintances or dates my
roommates set up. I never went out with anyone I really cared for or
wanted. I had a number of crushes, but they were always with those
super-popular girls, you know the type--the one with about fifteen
members of the jock strap club on her arms, the jocks docilely following
behind her, licking the soles of her feet just to be near her. I didn't
want to be like that. It revolted me, and though I desired such pretty
girls, I could never bring myself to act like such fawning jerks.
    There was one girl. Her name was Erica. She was an engineering student
like me. Pretty, in a quiet way; very docile, very conservative, a good
student. We became pretty good friends. We shared a lot of interests,
and we had many involved discussions over engineering theories and
problems. There was nothing sexual, at least not initially. Soon I began
to really grow attracted to her. I began to dream of her, late at night,
occasionally, though I tried desperately to resist the urges, even
masturbating while I imagined her climbing up onto the library table in
front of everyone and slowly undressing and telling me she wanted me,
she secretly loved me, and she wanted us to make love right there on the
research table.
    Of course the next day nothing like that happened at all. She'd be
polite and tell me how brilliant I was, and I would challenge her with
some new theory of mine and she'd answer it with a clever argument I
hadn't anticipated, and before our first class we'd be deep into
five-syllable words and obscure references.
    But I slowly grew more and more desperate, resisting the urge to fawn
over her, but trying everything I could think of to please her and
demonstrate my deep love for her. I brought her flowers. I bought her
dinner. I even took her to an engineering department social. But there
was no sexual overtone. We were just friends. Everything was relaxed and
normal. I resolved to tell her of my feelings. It took me over two weeks
to screw up my courage and outline what I wanted to tell her. I called
her on the phone one day.
    "Erica, I need to talk to you. Can we meet at three at Murphy's?"
    "Sure, Tom. I've got some wonderful news to tell you!"
    "Really? What is it?"
    "Wait until we meet. I want to tell you in person."
    By the time three o'clock had rolled around I had almost called her
three times to cancel the meeting and forget everything. But somehow I
held on and at five after three Erica came in. She was beautiful. Slim
dress, elegant yet casual, accented by a loose white jacket. Her face
was beaming and she raced straight to my table. She seemed very excited.
    "Oh, Tom, I know you wanted to talk to me but I just can't _wait_ to
tell you! Look!" She held out her arm proudly, and I stared blankly at
her hand, not understanding. "He asked me to _marry_ him, Tom! Isn't
that wonderful? We've set the date for June 17. You're invited, of
course. Isn't it wonderful? Isn't that the most beautiful ring you ever
saw?"
    Stunned beyond words, I just stared at the sparkling thing on her
finger and couldn't even breathe. This was impossible, ridiculous, but
true. The proof was right there in front of me, on her finger,
indisputable. "Congratulations, Erica," I managed. "I had no idea you
were even dating anyone."
    "You remember John, don't you? I introduced you to him that time he 
met
me after class to take me to the basketball game? We've been going
together ever since."
    My mind whirled and I vaguely remembered a tall, athletic-looking 
young
man, very handsome, obviously out of Erica's league. At the time it
hadn't occurred to me that it was anything serious. Erica dated
infrequently, perhaps a few times a month, always with a different guy,
usually someone one of her girlfriends had set her up with. I hadn't
thought that time was anything different.
    I was crushed. I brushed off Erica's questions about what I had wanted
to talk to her about and left rather rudely, hurting her I suppose. I
never saw her much after that. She seemed sad and sorry, and I think she
guessed the truth, but I never told her. I didn't go to her wedding.
Sadly, I don't know what happened to them since.
    Well, I graduated from college and did some graduate work, and started
working for a small start-up company in Seattle. It was very successful
at first, and my designs were extremely well-received. But the company's
marketing was terrible, and within three years of my joining them the
corporation folded, and I was without a job.
    Then Boeing called me. Seems someone there had liked my designs and 
had
heard what happened to Dunlatch Corp. and wanted me in for an interview.
The position was a dream one. I would get to work with some of the top
engineers on the planet, and the salary was a hefty one, almost double
what I had been making at Dunlatch. I accepted on the spot and a week
later I started.
    The years just flew by. I was so absorbed in my work I barely noticed.
The technology was changing right and left all around me and it made my
job incredibly exciting. The airplane industry was booming and
everything seemed to be going well. I got promotion after promotion and
became a senior level engineer by the time I was thirty-five, at least
ten years ahead of most.
    Many of my ideas were patented by Boeing and earned the company tons 
of
money and influenced the industry. One of my inventions, a small gasket,
was even stolen by a Chinese manufacturer and there was a big lawsuit
and international uproar over the event. I had to go to Congress to
testify before a committee regarding my patent. In the end we won, but
it was a long six-year battle.
    When I was forty-one my father died. Though at the time I went back
home and comforted mother and such, looking back I realized I barely
noticed. Not that I'm uncaring and unfeeling, but I was too involved
with work and I really hadn't been close to my father for years. I loved
him, but he was just the distant figure that put food on our plates or
took me into his bedroom for a whipping when I was bad.
    A year later when Mom passed away the shock finally hit me. I was
alone. My grandparents had gone when I was very young. Now my parents
were gone. I had no brothers or sisters. I was alone. At forty-two years
of age I realized that a large portion of my life had slipped past me
and I discovered dating at 42 was even more difficult than dating at 22.
I was miserable.
    I threw myself back into my work with a vengeance, but it wasn't much
help. I was lonely. I bought a dog. It helped some, but whenever he did
something really cute I wanted to share it with someone. There was no
one there.
    Something else began to bother me. I realized with astonishment that I
was still a virgin. I'd never really intended for it too happen like
that, but it was true. I'd never had sex. This bothered my ego greatly
and troubled me at night when I lay alone in bed, fighting off the urge
to go look at one of those magazines I keep in a box at the bottom of my
closet. I felt humiliated and ashamed, and I wondered if it showed. It
made my talking with women even more difficult. Could they see what a
wimp I was? Could they tell I was a virgin?
    I began to panic and had all kinds of horrible nightmares about it. I
had this one dream of a beautiful woman who took me to bed. She pushed
me back against the bed and began to pull down my pants. I was hard, of
course, my penis huge. When she took down my underwear my cock popped
out and she began to laugh hysterically, saying she'd never seen such a
tiny weeny. I woke up drenched with sweat and wondered if I was going
insane. All my childhood terrors were coming back and they were much
more intense and twice as humiliating because I was at an age that
should have overcome these fears long ago.
    I tried to seek out professional help, and failed. I don't mean a
shrink. I couldn't imagine telling all this to a doctor. No, I tried to
pick up a whore. Doesn't sound that difficult, does it. But I failed.
Four times I circled the block. I could see several, walking the streets
with those mini-skirts and way too much lipstick. I wasn't especially
attracted to any of them but boy my dick was hard as a stick. But I
couldn't stop. I just didn't have the nerve. They'd know in a second I
was a virgin and they'd laugh at me. It was too humiliating. I drove
home and shamelessly spread out all those magazines in the living room
and spent the night spraying my come all over the furniture.
    In the morning I felt exhausted and frustrated, and strangely, very
angry. I was in a terrible mood. I thought about calling in sick but the
concept of sitting at home all day and masturbating like some freaky
pervert made my stomach turn. I drove to work, miserable and ashamed. My
dick hurt too, from all the activity of the previous night. I wished I
was dead.

    I had been at my desk for scarcely an hour when I heard one of the
junior engineers making crude comments about a new secretary. "She's got
huge bazoombas," he said, or something equally childish.
    "Knock off the sexist remarks, Dave," I scolded. "It's the 90's, you
know. Do you want to get sued?"
    "Well! Who stuck a dowel up _your_ butt this morning!" he sniped back
and walked off. I tried to go back to work but now I couldn't
concentrate. I kept hearing Dave's stupid remark in my head. I decided
to go grab a soda from the rec room.
    As I came back with the soda I passed the main lobby of the R & D
section, where the secretarial pool is located. As researchers we don't
each get our own secretary, but we put our requests into the pool and
they divide up the work.
    I stopped in my tracks and stared. Sitting at the desk near the
paneling I would have to pass on my way back to my office was the most
beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. She had huge waves of blonde
hair falling all around her head and shoulders, graceful, smooth, silky
hair, like in those TV shampoo commercials. Her face was exquisite,
chiseled out of soft granite and shaped to perfection, curled lips,
button nose, high cheekbones, the works. Her eyes were large,
almond-shaped ovals, and as she was looking away from me I could see the
white of her eyes. I love a woman's eyes. You can tell more about a
person from their eyes than anything else.
    I approached, stumbling slightly, lost in a daze. I was vaguely aware
that this woman had a sex-kitten body, with huge "bazoombas" and a trim
figure. Her dress was slim and simple, an elegant white that showed off
all those delicious curves. The neckline was tight and her breasts were
well-covered. Conservative but sexy. I liked it a lot. I liked her a
lot. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
    Suddenly I bumped smack into the partition in front of her and she
looked up at me, straight into my eyes, her mouth opening slightly in
surprise, the lips curling slightly in an amused smile, her teeth white
and perfect. "Can I help you?" she said with a pleasant, efficient tone,
all business. She spoke to me with respect, probably because my ID badge
showed I was a senior-level manager.
    Without a thought in my brain, completely unconscious of the other
secretaries or how incriminating this would sound to a sexual-harassment
judge, I blurted out, "You are a goddess!"
    The awe in my voice must have amused her, because she smiled and
blushed slightly. "Thank you, sir, but I don't really think that's
appropriate."
    In my fog I completely misunderstood her. "It's completely accurate," 
I
said quickly, hearing myself talk and wondering who was controlling my
speech. "You are indeed a goddess, far too pure to be walking among mere
mortals like myself."
    She blushed again and graciously dropped her eyes. All that color made
her far more attractive. "Sir, I don't think you should be telling me
this. It might be misconstrued," she said quietly. She looked very
embarrassed.
    Suddenly I realized everyone was watching us. I looked up and around
and all the secretaries were staring at me. I looked behind me and
several of my colleagues were watching me with raised eyebrows. Like a
punch to the stomach I was floored. I shrank back and mumbled some sort
of an apology. My face turned beet red and I rushed to my office,
closing the door and dimming the lights. I collapsed in my chair and sat
trembling.
    What had I done? Had I just ruined a promising career? How could I 
have
behaved like that? I'd never done anything like that in my life! And
after just lecturing Dave on the proper behavior around women, too! This
was humiliating. I wondered if I needed to go to my supervisor. I'd have
to apologize to the girl, of course. Perhaps she wouldn't put in a
complaint. She was new, perhaps I could have her transferred to a
different department so there wouldn't be any question of preferential
treatment by me. Oh, what was wrong with me? I wanted to die!
    I though about the girl. She was so pretty, so composed. She probably
was married. In either case she certainly had more than her share of
boyfriends. She was the kind of girl I'd always wanted in college, but
never could get close to. As I thought about it I decided I hated her.
She would surely resent my rude remarks and find me quite repulsive. It
made me angry to see her in that light, and I could envision her going
out with some weasel like that Dave, never realizing until too late what
a jerk he was. Beautiful women, even smart ones, could never pick good
men.
    I skipped lunch. I couldn't have kept anything down anyway. I actually
managed to get some work done. Late in the afternoon I checked the
employee database on the computer system and found her. Samantha
Robertson, age 28, single, secretary. There was a quote from her about
how excited she was to be working at Boeing and how she'd do her best to
help out "the team." The databank said she'd graduated from Washington
state with a pre-law major and had worked for a huge law firm in
Vancouver for several years.
    I spent the next hour composing an e-mail apology to her. I begged her
forgiveness and understanding and informed her that under no
circumstances would anything like this happen again. I wrote and rewrote
the letter until everything seemed perfect, just the right amount of
formality and informality, friendly and honest, but not too personal. I
didn't really like doing this over e-mail but I couldn't face her
directly. I looked at my watch. It was close to five, I needed to send
it soon or she wouldn't get it before she left. I looked out of my
office and saw many of the engineers were already leaving. It was a
Friday and people usually took off early if they could. I loaded up the
message and was just about to press "send" when I heard a knock at my
door.


                                   Part 2
    
    A little grumpy at being interrupted but somewhat relieved, I opened
the door. I froze in terror, for there in front of me stood Samantha
Robertson, purse in hand and dark coat on her arm. Her beauty stunned me
as before and I couldn't move or even begin to imagine what she was
doing here.
    She smiled at me warmly and asked if she could come in. I nodded,
dumbly, and she entered and to my surprise, closed the door behind her.
She appeared slightly nervous, but not at all afraid of me, someone who
had practically assaulted her moments earlier.
    "This is a nice office, Mr. Jefferson," she said pleasantly, looking
around the room. I've had the same office for a number of years now so
it's pretty customized. She stopped and admired several of the
engineering awards I'd won, and noticed the framed newspaper clipping of
me testifying before Congress.
    "Please, call me Tom," I said, pulling a chair out for her. She did 
not
sit but stood and smiled at me. Her smile took my breath away.
    "All right, Tom. I won't stay long--I don't want to bother you, but I
wanted to apologize for what I said earlier."
    I stood up in astonishment. "_You_ want to apologize to _me_?"
    "Yes. I didn't mean to frighten you away. I really wasn't offended by
what you said. I spoke with Barbara--you know Barbara--and she told me all
about you, said you were the kindest, most gentle man in the building.
'Never harm a flea,' she said. 'Probably locked in his office racked
with guilt over insulting you,' she said. Was she right? Have you been
in here all day, worried about how offended I'd be?"
    I stared at the floor and blushed furiously, unable to conceal my
shame. "I-I'm terribly sorry," I said. "I wrote you this apology." I
pointed to the screen. She frowned slightly and stepped up close to me
and bent forward to read the text. She laid her purse and coat on the
chair I'd offered her. It was a long note and she had to reach forward
to use the mouse to scroll through it. I lay in my chair, her warm body
bent close to me, almost across me, her perfume dizzying. I didn't move
an inch.
    "Hmmmm," she said when she finished. "Not bad. A little too formal
perhaps, and it's obvious you were very worried about being sued. Though
you are trying to apologize there are all sorts of little defenses you
put in there to protect yourself. It kind of negates the apology I'd
say." She stared at me for a long time without saying anything, my eyes
drinking in hers like it was a bottomless spring. I have no idea how
long she knelt there and stared at me. It seemed like an eternity,
later, but at the time it was just seconds.
    She stood up. "I understand you are single. The girls tell me you've
never even winked at any of them, and even reprimanded several employees
who did. So what you did today was not your normal behavior at all.
Perhaps you are ill?" She took her delightfully limber fingers and
pressed them against my forehead. "No fever," she said shaking her head,
almost sadly. Her eyes twinkled and I saw she was almost smiling. "How
can we explain you behavior of this morning?"
    "We can't!" I exclaimed. "I've never done anything like that in my
life. I told you I am terribly, irrevocably sorry. It will never happen
again, I swear it!"
    "But I want it to happen again."
    "What!"
    Her smile was devilish and she leaned close to me, her hands resting
deep on the armrests of my chair, her arms on each side of me
effectively locking me in my seat.
    "Think about what you are apologizing for, Tom. A girl _likes_ to be
told she is beautiful. But you are sorry that you called me a goddess!"
    "Oh, no!" I stammered,. confused. "I didn't mean that. You _are_ a
goddess, a supreme being, certainly!"
    "So now you are called me a goddess again? You are repeating your
insult of this morning?"
    "Well no, I--"
    "No what? No I'm not a goddess? No you are not calling me a goddess
again?"
    "I--"
    "Well?" Her eyes were like lightening bolts, shooting into me. I 
shrank
further back in the chair and she moved closer to me until her lips were
just inches from my face. I could vaguely feel the heaviness of her
breasts touching my chest. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.
    "You _are_ a goddess but I shouldn't have spoken to you like that!" I
finally blurted out, really wanting to cry I felt so bewildered.
    "And how would I have known I was a goddess if you hadn't told me?"
    "I--I don't know!"
    "Tom, you did a good thing, this morning. I liked it. Today was my
first day on my new job and here comes this handsome gentleman telling
me that I'm a goddess! A goddess! I've never been a goddess before, Tom.
Usually I'm just a broad with big hooters, good for a quick lay in the
back of a pickup over lunch! But to you, Tom, to you I'm a goddess! A
goddamned goddess! Do you know how that makes me feel?"
    I shook my head frantically. I needed to pee really bad.
    "It makes me feel _wonderful_, Tom! Wonderful!"
    With that, the gorgeous blonde leaned back and stood up in front of 
me,
her face slightly flushed, her arms folded across her magnificent chest.
I still couldn't move. This woman was amazing to me. Strong and forceful
and yet so pretty and seemingly fragile. I felt dizzy like I was falling
in love.
    "Do you know what we are going to do now, Tom?" I shook my head.
    "We are going to leave here and you are going to take me out on the
town. I'm new; I have no friends here, I don't know where to go. You
will take me to a very nice restaurant and we will have a fabulous
dinner. Then you will take me home to your place and I will fuck you
silly. Does that sound like the plan?"
    "I love you," I breathed.
    "Oh? What took you so long? That's usually the _first_ line I hear."
    "You don't understand," I said struggling to stand up. "I've never
loved anyone. I've never met anyone like you."
    "I'm just a nice girl looking for a nice man."
    "That's me!"
    "Well, we'll see. You seem pretty mild for me. But how about you take
me to dinner now?" I grabbed her arm and practically dragged her out to
my Jaguar, and we headed downtown. There's a nice French restaurant
there, the Chateau Rouge. I'd never been there, but I heard one of the
vice-presidents recommending it once.
    The meal was fantastic. The wine alone cost me a hundred bucks but it
was worth it. I didn't hesitate a second spending money on this
beautiful blonde. I felt incredible. Here I was in one of the fanciest
restaurants in town, dressed casual, and the woman I was with was
attracting looks from everyone. The waiters practically had a fight to
see who would serve our table.
    "Is it always like this for you?" I asked.
    "Like what?" She was casually munching on some bread and appeared
rather disinterested in what was happening around her.
    "People. People staring at you. Don't you feel conspicuous?"
    "Naaa. I'm used to it. People always stare. I barely even notice it
anymore. It's not important to me."
    "What is important to you?"
    She sipped her cocktail and smiled. "You. Me. Us. I value
relationships. Strangers don't know me. They only see the surface. I
like what's down deep."
    "Is that why you are here with me instead of some handsome stud from
the office?"
    She frowned. "You really are too down on yourself. You pass it off as 
a
joke but it's not. You think you're not good enough for me?"
    I nodded and shrugged. "I'm not very comfortable around women," I said
softly.
    "You're comfortable around me."
    "No, I'm not. I'm terrified. I'm afraid you'll get up at any second 
and
tell me this is all a mistake or some cruel joke and leave me here with
the bill and those waiters laughing at me."
    She looked annoyed. "The waiters aren't laughing at you."
    "Sure they are. They think I must be rich and you're after my money."
    "Oh?" Her eyes flashed dangerously and she smiled. "Then I'll pay for
the meal. No arguments." I shut my open mouth and meekly backed down. I
didn't want to upset her but I really felt annoyed that she was going to
pay. That wasn't fair at all!
    She had the waiter charge the meal to her credit card. I didn't miss
the look of surprise on his face and neither did she. "I'll pay you back
later," I whispered gallantly. Her eyes burned into mine. "You will
not!"
    After dinner I took her on a drive around town, just to show her
places. She was quiet. I kept having to look at her every few moments to
convince myself that she was real. When we stopped at a crowded
intersection I could feel everyone looking at me. "She's probably a
figment of my perverted imagination and I'm talking to myself," I
thought. "All these people think I'm nuts."
    "Why don't we go back to your place," Samantha whispered suddenly, and
I felt a cold fear go down my spine. I had not forgotten her promise,
er, perhaps _threat_, from earlier in the evening. Was she really
serious? Did she really intend to have sex with me? What would she think
when she found out....
    We pulled into my driveway and my heart was beating a mile a minute. I
opened her door and helped her out and we walked toward the entrance of
my house. She expressed delight at the beautiful landscaping.
    "I've got a gardener," I explained. "I love plants and greenery but I
don't have the time or skill to keep the place up. My mother always
loved plants. That was always her greatest regret about our traveling so
much. She always wished she could have her own greenhouse."
    My home is in a secluded area, surrounded by forest on three sides. 
The
architecture is somewhat chalet-like, a small two-story rustic cabin.
The landscaping is fantastic, one of my luxuries. There's a small flower
garden and a walkway through a miniature park of tall trees.
    Inside, Samantha could unfortunately tell a bachelor kept house. I had
had no idea that I'd be bringing home a dream date that evening, so the
house was a mess. I rushed forward to clean some dirty dishes from the
living room table and took them to the kitchen.
    "Sorry the place is such a mess. I wasn't exactly expecting company."
    "It's fine, Tom. You've got a nice place here. Cozy and warm. Do you
ever use the fireplace?"
    "Sure," I nodded. "During the winter I love to sit and read by the
fire.
    "Oh, that sounds so good!" There was a pause. "You don't have a
bearskin rug, do you?"
    I shook my head. "No, sorry."
    Samantha looked slightly abashed, the corners of her luscious mouth
drooping downward. "Oh, that's too bad. I have this fantasy, you see--of
sitting nude with my lover on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire,
and snow piled up over the doorway. We're naked, but totally warm, if
you know what I mean. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"
    Did it! I swallowed to rid myself of the tightness in my throat. "I've
got a blanket," I ventured. "I can have a fire going in minutes."
    "And the snow?" she ventured with a naughty grin.
    "We could cuddle for the next six months and wait for the first
snowfall..."
    She slapped my arm with mock annoyance. "You are terrible!"
    "I know. How about a drink?" She agreed and a few minutes later we 
were
sitting on the sofa sipping and chatting. I couldn't believe how
comfortable I felt around her. She was so bold and aggressive I felt
continually astonished by her. She wasn't like anyone I had ever met.
    She had told me she grew up in Indiana, and had only moved out west
after college. She originally had been interested in psychology, but
dropped it after a few years. Then she had studied Early Childhood
Development for a year, but then switched to Communication Arts. Most
recently she'd taken some pre-law courses with the idea of becoming a
legal secretary. "I'm not sure what want, careerwise," she said. "I
guess a family is more what I'm interested in."
    "You mean you want to be a housewife?" I asked, astonished. Most of 
the
"new women" I'd met were horrified by that term or even that a man
should be the sole source of income.
    "Why not?" she answered. "I love children. In the long run a stable
family is much more important than a few extra dollars each month. Kids
today really need full-time parents."
    This pleased me greatly, though I was still suspicious. Samantha 
didn't
seem like the stay-at-home type at all. I had a lot to learn about
Samantha.
    "Shall we have sex now?" she asked suddenly, interrupting my tale of
college experiences. My jaw must have dropped, because she leaned
forward and kissed my lower lip murmuring, "Better close that mouth
before my tongue gets in there." Her breath was sweet and her touch
sensuous. I completely forgot what I was speaking about and kissed her
back.
    In a moment we were rolling on the couch in a passionate embrace. I
could not keep my hands off her. They kept caressing her body with minds
of their own, squeezing her mammoth breasts and sliding up and down her
slim, curvy hips and round ass. She moaned loudly and her hand went to
my crotch. I swear my cock grew an extra inch at her touch. I'm certain
she could feel me pulsing with energy and I knew she wanted me.
    Throwing caution to the winds I rolled us off the couch and began to
undress myself and her. I stopped at my underpants, realizing she was
still dressed, though the buttons down the front of her dress were
undone and I could see twin mounds of soft flesh tightly reined by a
white brassiere.
    "Take them off," she whispered, pointing to my underwear, and I was
frightened. I had this irrational fear that she would laugh at me, take
my clothes and run away, leaving me naked and unsatisfied.
    "Trust me," she said quietly, her eyes burning into mine. I could not
disobey her. I bent over and dropped my shorts, my face flushing with
heat as my cock sprang free and pointed upward and outward, its tip
moist with pre-come. She smiled and knelt in front of me and grasping
each ankle, helped me step out of my shorts. She tossed them aside. Her
face was near my cock now, and I flushed with excitement and fear. She
approached it gingerly, and then breathed a hot breath on it, but did
not touch it. I trembled in anticipation and frustration.
    "Please," I begged. "Don't tease me." I could feel surges of power in
my penis and I wanted her so badly I just knew I would come even before
I could get inside her.
    "Do it in my hand," she whispered. Her voice was strong and 
commanding,
and miserably, I obeyed, helpless to defy her. She held out her hand
just below the tip and I exploded, pumping spurts of white cream into
her palm. Again and again I spurted until I was exhausted, my cock
drained. A small puddle of white lay in her hand.
    Smiling, she stood and unhooked her bra at the front with her left
hand, and then pulled open her dress to reveal two of the most beautiful
breasts I had ever seen (and I've seen a _lot_ of movies). They were
large and plump to be sure, but they weren't monstrous drooping things
that made you wonder how the girl could stand up without falling over.
Samantha's breasts were firm and jutted boldly outward, with large pert
nipples. As I watched she took the cream in her right hand and began to
spread it across her breasts. She covered herself with it, occasionally
squeezing a breast to her face and sniffing deeply, and looking at me
with an expression of pure lust. She was getting remarkably turned on! I
felt my cock stiffen and come to attention again, but this time the
feelings weren't quite so intense and I knew I could wait.
    After creaming her breasts, Samantha began to undress. She reached
inside her dress and took out her bra and tossed it aside. Then she
turned her back to me, bent over, and I watched her hands through the
fabric of her dress as she reached between her legs and pulled down her
panties. She threw them at me, and I took them and smelled them. They
were damp and smelled of a woman, and I longed to touch her.
    Now Samantha began to wiggle out of her dress. It was tight and she 
had
to wiggle a lot, but I didn't mind at all. Slowly the dress fell off her
shoulder, down her sides--the "V" in the front showing just the hint of
blonde pussy--and then it was around her waist. Once there, a final
wiggle of those glorious hips sent it dropping to the floor around her
ankles, and she gracefully kicked it away.
    She stood before me, totally nude. She was unbelievable. Better than
anything I'd seen in any magazine. Soft, silky, evenly tanned skin
covered her everywhere, gentle curves and roundness the order of the
day. A triangle of blonde hair was visible at her crotch and her thighs
looked so sleek I desperately wanted to slip my hand between them and
nuzzle her there. Her hair hung around her bare shoulder delightfully,
arms behind her head, elbows out. Her face bore the expression of a
naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar and not the least
bit sorry for it.
    "Oh my God!" was all I could say. My cock was spurting come on the
carpet, just looking at her. I couldn't help myself. I stared downward
dismally at my failing and blushed deeply.
    Samantha beamed at me. "That's quite a compliment," she said gently.
"Coming twice before I even touch you!"
    "I'm sorry," I mumbled.
    "Don't be. Like I said, I'm honored." She glanced down and I realized
with shame that after the second coming my member had shrunk
considerably.
    Her expression was serious but her eyes gleamed mischievously. "Now 
how
can we get you hard again?" she said with the serious intent a child
solving the world-hunger crisis.
    "I know!" said the naked goddess before me, clapping her hands 
together
like a delighted child. "You can spank me!"
    I stared at her in bewilderment. What was she talking about?
    "Come on," she said dragging me to the couch. "You'll love this. Trust
me. It will help build up your confidence."
    She set me down in the middle of the sofa and proceeded to lay herself
across my lap. It took a little doing, as she is quite tall, but
eventually she was settled across my legs, her damp crotch pressed
against my left thigh.
    "Now spank my bottom!" she cried out happily, like a child at
Christmas.
    I stared at the graceful mounds before me with amazement. Her hips
flared out from her narrow waist and her bottom was more expansive than
I had anticipated. The cheeks were round and firm, however, and I
couldn't resist sliding my hand over them, the silky smooth flesh
raising goosepimples all over my legs and back.
    I shivered. This had to be a dream. No girl in her right mind would
just offer her bare bottom to be spanked! "You can't be serious," I said
slowly, but I could feel my cock rising between my legs just at the
thought.
    "Come on, stop dawdling," she cried. "Spank me hard! You know I've 
been
a naughty girl and deserve it."
    Well, that was certainly true. This was our first date and she'd
already made me come twice! Slowly I lifted my hand and slapped her
bottom lightly. The smack had a nice ring to it and I loved the way it
made her bottom jiggle.
    "Harder!" she cried, so I obliged. "Come on, Tom, really give it to 
me.
I can barely feel that!"
    Suddenly I was angry. I took my hand high into the air and slapped her
really hard. She squealed and wiggled her bottom wonderfully, and I felt
her crotch press against my leg. "Ouch! That's much better," she said.
"Give me more just like that."
    I slapped her bottom again, harder, and then again. I could see a red
palmprint on her skin after each slap. She would wiggle and moan
slightly after each smack and I felt pressure against the tip of my cock
and was surprised to see I was fully erect, my penis nuzzling her hip. I
was also almost certain my left leg was wet. Could it be she was aroused
by being spanked?
    I spanked her harder, several more loud slaps that had her moaning
loudly. Sure enough, when she pressed against me her crotch was
extremely moist.
    Samantha's white bottom was now a light pink, and I spanked her
carefully so that I reddened her whole bottom until every part bore the
color of a very rare steak. "How's that?" I said finally, pausing in my
efforts.
    "Wonderful, Tom," Samantha said in a low voice. "Could-could you give
me a couple with your belt? Not too hard--I'm close to orgasm, but just a
few good swats?"
    "Are you serious?"
    "Please, Tom? Quickly, while I'm still hot!"
    I set her up on her knees and fetched the belt from my discarded 
pants.
It was a thick leather belt about an inch wide. My dad had bought it for
me once when he was in Texas. Samantha later told me she had been eying
that belt all evening and wondering what it would feel like across her
rump.
    I folded the felt in two and turned back to the goddess. She was on 
her
knees and leaning over the back of the sofa. Her bottom was a nice pink.
I struck her ass with moderate force and she clenched her teeth and
muttered, "Harder, damn it! Give it to me like you mean it!"
    I'd never heard of such a thing before but whatever the goddess wanted
she got. I struck her really hard, the loud slap of the leather on bare
flesh making me wince. A bright red welt flared across her cheeks for a
few seconds. She gasped and threw her head back, her mouth open in pain.
I was frightened that I had hurt her, but she finally breathed deeply
and sighed, a low moan coming from deep within chest. "Oh, Tom," she
croaked, "that was exquisite! You are a master! Please, give me more!"
    Shaking my head in bewilderment, but realizing that my own sex was
painfully enlarged and excited, I wrapped the leather belt around
Samantha's bottom once again, perhaps with a touch more force. Her cry
was a cross between a moan and a scream, and I let her settle down
before I gave her another.
    This time her body shuddered and quivered frantically, and with a
sudden impulse I gave her three sharp quick licks with the belt as she
knelt there. With a real gasp of pain she screamed out loud and moaned
frantically, and I saw a stream of liquid dribbling down her leg. She
was coming! The whipping had brought her to orgasm!
    Suddenly I felt pleased. We had both come to orgasm before touching
each other. I wasn't sure what that meant, but it made me feel less
embarrassed and more in control.
    Suddenly Samantha turned and threw herself upon me, riding me to the
ground. She was like an animal, kissing me wildly, almost biting me, her
tongue licking my face and chest, her thighs spread wide over my probing
cock.
    "You are incredible, Tom," she hissed in my ear as she nuzzled me
there. "Fucking amazing! I've never had an orgasm like that before,
_never_! I thought it was going to kill me!"
    We coupled and rolled around on the carpet like wild dogs, our mating
cries loud and uncontrolled. For a brief few hours everything was
blissful blindness, white-hot and intense, and only hours later did we
awake and look at each other rather foolishly and hug and kiss and make
slow, normal love. Sometime during that dream I became a man, but I
don't even remember the instance, since everything was so overwhelming
and new.
    In that morning fog I felt her hug me. I turned over and looked into
her beautiful eyes. She smiled. "You didn't even notice, did you?"
    "Notice what?"
    "It was my first time."
    My heart skipped a beat. Was she serious? "You mean--"
    "Exactly," she said. "Oh, it's not that I haven't had the opportunity,
but I wanted to wait until I met the right man."
    "You've got to be joking," I said slowly.
    "Why? It's true, and you should be honored."
    "I'm more than honored. I'm flabbergasted. You see, it was my first,
too."
    Her soft smile told me she already knew that, or at least suspected 
it,
but she managed to look surprised anyway. "I told you we were perfect
for each other."
    "You did not."
    "Well, I was thinking it."
    Suddenly I could hold back any longer. I sat up in the bed and pulled
her across my lap. "Hey, what are you doing?" she yelped.
    "I'm spanking you," I said firmly, filled with a self-confidence I had
never felt before.
    "What! Why?"
    I gave her bare bottom a loud slap. "Because I want you to marry me,
and I'm going to spank you until you say yes!" I gave her another loud
slap, and then another, but all I was met with was flurry of
uncontrollable giggling.
    "What are you laughing about?" I said gruffly, trying to sound tough
and harsh.
    "You!" she laughed, "oooching" at another spank. "You silly boy, I 
knew
yesterday that we'd be getting married!"
    That made me pause. "You're kidding."
    "No. I knew it the moment you walked up to me and called me a 
goddess."
    "Wow," I said. "You really want to marry me." It was more a statement
than a question. I turned her over a little so I could see her face. She
was grinning like an idiot, but she was serious.
    "Uh huh. But, uh, Tom?"
    "Yeah?"
    In a very soft voice she said, "I will marry you, but you can still
spank me if you want."
    Red blood pumping through my veins, I turned her back over and warmed
her bottom thoroughly. With a goddess encouraging me, how could I
refuse?

    Today, Samantha and I are happily married. We make love all the time,
and though the guys at work would never believe it, a couple of times a
week I take her across my knee for a thorough paddling, occasionally
followed my an even more thorough belting. She loves me with all her
heart, I know, and I trust her with my deepest emotions and the essence
of my soul. I still can't believe we are a couple, but we are more alike
than most people would know. Like two sides of the same coin, we belong
together and no one can separate us.