Archive-name: SpecMome/livinia2.txt

Archive-author: Friar Dave

Archive-title: Livinia - Part 2





     My girlfriend of several years and I went through our usual Therapy 

Session when I told her what had happened. After a lot of years and 

tough times together, Annie and I have few -- if any -- secrets from 

each other and we like it that way. The question about safety was almost 

pro forma, because she knew how paranoid I am about AIDS; my answer was 

very much what she could have expected:

     "Because I remember her telling me about getting the test for her 

Green Card and another test when she applied for a part-time job at 

Woodhull Hospital. Remember? I told you she asked me to explain some of 

the results to her. I've seen the papers."

     Sealed in gold, that one was.

     Then, Annie's next question was Would she like Livinia. I had to 

tell her the truth: Probably not. Annie, petite and amazingly sexy, is 

picky about women and she likes 'em bigger and busty-er than herself. And 

she likes 'em blonde.

     I told her the truth: I liked Livinia and thought the world of her. 

Knowing how I like kids, Annie wondered aloud if my liking Sabrina 

wasn't  part of it. No, not this fella -- I liked spending time with 

Livinia, I really liked fucking and sucking with Livinia, but Sabrina 

was on the threshold of going from being a kid to being a young woman. I 

liked Livinia for Livinia. Sabrina was kind of a bonus...as long as it 

lasted. Once she started developing into a young woman and became aware 

of it, she was -- perfectly normally -- going to be more interested in 

trying out her new equipment on kids her age then in hanging out at some 

ol' museum with her ol' mom and the ol' guy who used to help her with 

homework.

     Annie and I go through this whenever one of us gets the hots for 

someone new. Nine times out of ten, we're just reassuring each other 

that we haven't lost sight of what's special in our relationship. 

Sometimes, the tenth time is a challenge, because the addition could be 

a threat. And sometimes, one of us is in the awkward position  of

fighting like hell for the relationship.

     But after more than a decade, neither of us would trade the other 

for any fantasy, because -- for me, at least -- Annie *is* my fantasy. 

it's a shame that when we tried living together we didn't find ourselves 

compatible that way -- we're both too independent -- but what we have 

suits us as well as marriage and kids suits some folks and as well as 

purely going it alone suits others.

     I also told Annie that Livinia seemed to have some hesitations and 

I didn't think it was going to go much farther than being friends and 

very occasionally lovers and even that not for very long. Then Annie and 

I went to bed and after (once-again) amazingly pleasurable sexiness and 

togetherness, we snuggled. 

     Over the next few weeks, Livinia and I got together occasionally, 

mostly for a cup of coffee or an occasional quick meal (while Sabrina 

noisily played with a milkshake or dissected a banana split) and it 

was pleasant. But the sexual tension was palpable.

     Thanksgiving came and went, and then we were in the thick of the 

Christmas holidays. I gave Livinia a card -- just a remembrance -- but 

to Sabrina I gave an Ocean Pacific sweatshirt 183 sizes too big (which 

was what kids her age were favoring) and, of course, a book: a fresh 

reprint of Andre Norton's "Daybreak 2250," excellent stuff (as is all of 

Mary Andre Norton's), especially for bright young females, since the 

protagonist is a 15-year-old girl who has an empathetic bond with 

animals in a post-World War III world. 

     The new year began as it usually did and then we were into the 

dregs of January. it was warm and drizzly in New York City that year, 

and the Science Section of the Times carried many articles about the 

greenhouse effect -- all of which editions were delivered by internal 

combustion-driven trucks. On the second Friday of January, I took 

Livinia and Sabrina to Laserium, up at the Museum of Natural History's 

Hayden Planetarium. Sabrina thought it was "fresh" and "rad" (I think 

that was what she said) and Livinia liked the music (Pink Floyd and Yes) 

and the laser light show, though together, they didn't make much sense 

to her -- but we did a lot of earnest and covert hand-holding. Like a 

couple of kids. It was nice. Then more weeks passed as my job and hers 

erased free time with an astonishing efficiency.

     On President's Weekend (whatever the hell that is), Annie was going 

to visit friends in Vermont and on the way was going to  stop  in

Massachusetts to visit Bozo the Chef in his country home. Unlike most 

of her other interests, Bozo struck me as a singular asshole, but she 

felt a compelling attraction to him. She'd vowed Safe Sex until he 

agreed to a test (and after three months, his continued stalling was 

simply the crowning proof on his rectal-ness), so I had no real gripe, 

except for some dismay at her lack of taste. But, what the hell -- you 

have to make some compromises to make a good thing last.

     I stopped into the 'mat on Monday and Sabrina grabbed me. She was 

all excited. 

     "I'm gonna meet my aunt -- finally!"

     "That's nice. Is she coming to visit?"

     "Yeah -- and she got her visa and she's going to stay in America! 

Isn't that great?"

     "When is she coming?"

     "Thursday. I can't wait!"

     "Terrific." We chatted a bit about her classes and then I went to 

the back of the 'mat to see Livinia. "I hear you're going to have 

company."

     "Oh, yes, my sister is coming to stay for some days, then she goes 

to Orlando to stay with my cousins and get a job." aaaaaaaaaaand she 

never missed a beat at folding somebody's undershirt.

     "That's nice." 

     "You don't look happy. Is something wrong?"

     "I was going to ask you out to dinner for Friday or Saturday and 

maybe take you and Sabrina to the Metropolitan Museum."

     "Oh, maybe another -- wait! Can my sister come with us?"

     I thought on that for a moment. "Sure." I leaned close. "If she 

promises to babysit Sabrina later..." I whispered.

     She blushed and said, "Maybe this is not a good idea. You may 

decide you'd rather take Alicia home with you, since she is younger and 

much prettier than me."

     I stared at her. "Prettier than you? That's hard to believe, since 

you are very pretty."

     "All the boys always like her more than me in my country. She is 

younger and has a nicer body."

     "I seem to recall that you have a terrific body. Want me to prove 

it again?"

     I watched her nipples come to attention through her bra and blouse.

     "She is much bigger than me up on top, you know? The boys always 

chase after her."

     "I'm not a little boy and I like your body and I liked having my 

face between your legs and licking you -- "

     She put her hand on my mouth. "Stop it! It makes me peel punny 

inside when you say those things!"

     "Good!"

     We made a date for Saturday and I found myself wondering about her 

sister. I would have expected more venom when she spoke of a younger 

sister who drew the boys; she'd been very matter-of-fact about it. 

     On Saturday morning, I knocked on the door at 10 a.m. Sabrina 

answered. A few months had made a significant difference. She had gone 

from skinny to slim and her pullover was just beginning to show little 

telltale bumps of what would one day be breasts. In a way, I was sorry. 

Soon she'd be more of a young woman than a little girl and we would no 

longer have the nice, relaxed friendship we now had. She would be 

interested in boys and in proving her attractiveness and the Old Guy Who 

Dated Mom would be one of Them -- you know: Grownups.

     Evelyn was there and Evelyn was coming with us, which suited me 

fine. Evelyn was Sabrina's best friend and also her thirty-fourth cousin 

or somesuch. If Sabrina had been skinny, Evelyn was downright scrawny -- 

but every bit as impish and sweet as Sabrina. 

     Sabrina gave me a little "hello" kiss -- this was something new for 

her -- which made me a tad uncomfortable. She was really turning into a 

lithely sexy girl and I didn't like my response to her closeness. I'd 

have to be sure not to let my gonads take charge with a kid.

     Then Evelyn did the same thing and she wrapped her arms around me 

in the process. Now that really struck me as weird, but since Evelyn was 

in every way still a little girl, I was puzzled, but not discomfited.

     They ushered me into the living room, telling me Livinia and "Aunt 

Alicia" would be down in a minute and we talked a little about what we 

were going to be seeing today at the Metropolitan. 

     Then Livinia and Alicia entered. They were dressed very similarly 

-- dark skirts, white blouses -- and both were short and that was pretty 

much the end of the resemblance.

     Livinia had been almost right about Alicia being prettier, but that 

wasn't the word for it. "Knockout" was more like it.

     An inch or so shorter than Livinia, with the same flawless, dark 

complexion, Alicia looked ready to burst out of her skin. She was 

absolutely glowing with vitality. In her, the influence of oriental 

ancestry was a more evident. From the neck up.

     From the neck down she was the dream of every feverish adolescent 

boy. Her legs wee long and sleekly curved, her hips were as narrow as 

Livinia's, her waist was even tinier, but her breasts were about twice a 

big -- and Livinia was not a slouch in that department. Alicia's breasts 

were large, round, firm and too big for her to button as much of her 

blouse as Livinia had.

     Then I realized she was wearing high heels while Livinia was 

wearing flat heels and saw that Alicia couldn't have been more than four-

foot-ten. Which made her proportions all the more striking.

     All I could think of for a moment was eating her.

     But I recovered and Livinia introduced us and then we headed for 

the Metropolitan. Me and four females. 

     We had a delightful time. Evelyn and Sabrina were bowled over when 

they saw some of the fine silver-craft on the balcony overlooking the 

Rodin Garden -- and realized the work had been done less than five blocks 

from where Sabrina lived. Livinia was mesmerized by the Tiffany windows. 

Alicia was left breathless by the Temple of Dendur. I took my lovely 

quartet for a late lunch at Donovan's, over on Third Avenue. Alicia 

didn't speak much, and when she did, she spoke softly and with much less 

of an accent than her older sister. She didn't keep her eyes downcast in 

conversation with me.

     From Donovan's, I took them down to the IBM Gallery where there was 

a hand's-on science exhibit. The kids loved it and both Livinia and 

Alicia were somewhat tickled by the funny room that could make a child 

seem taller to an outside observer than a forward for the Lakers.

     I had them all back at Livinia's house by six. Alicia, barely 

adjusted to her jet leg, was more than happy to agree to sit up with 

Sabrina and Evelyn. She thanked me for a lovely day and shook my hand. 

Livinia changed and we headed for my house. 

     It's three long flights to my top-floor apartment and halfway 

through the last flight, I couldn't resist running my hand up Livinia's 

denim clad thigh. She paused and pressed down against my fingers, then 

scurried the last few steps to my door.

     My so-called cat flopped on his back and demanded belly mushes 

before granting admission, then stood over his (nearly full) bowl and 

cried for food. I made a show of shaking the Cat Chow box over the bowl 

and he was happy and left us alone while I took her short down coat and 

gave her the fifty-cent tour. She expressed surprise that the apartment 

didn't look like a pigsty; bachelors have a bad reputation in that.

     From my living room window, we could look out over the rooftops to 

the east and see the jets in their graceful dance waiting to land at 

Laguardia Airport and as we stood and watched the silent ballet, I 

slipped my arms around her from behind. She snuggled back against me and 

pulled my hands to her breasts.

     She was wearing a turtleneck and there was nothing beneath it but 

Livinia. Her nipples were already hard and in a few moments, they were 

even harder. I got my hands up under the sweater and savored the full, 

firm weight of her lovely breasts, rubbing my thumbs over her nipples.

     She started resisting, pushing away from the window. "People will 

see!" she protested. I turned out the light and we were illuminated only 

by what came through the window from the winter New York night sky. I 

pulled the turtleneck up and over her head and kissed her. She writhed 

against me, wrapping her legs around one of mine and grinding her crotch 

against me. I could feel the swollen surprise of her clitoris even 

through our clothes.

     I dropped to my knees and feasted on her tits while I opened her 

jeans and peeled them and her wispy panties down to her ankles. She 

stepped out of them as I kissed my way down to her cunt, but sank to the 

area rug next to me just before I got a liplock on her clit.

     She lavished lots of soft, wet kisses on me as she worked at my 

pants and I stripped out of my flannel shirt. 

     "Take these away!" she whispered throatily, tugging at my jeans. I 

rolled to my back and she dragged my clothes down my legs while I tried 

to kick off my shoes. We were both abruptly naked.

     I started to rise to my knees, but she put one small hand on my 

chest, did that very compact bend and gulped my rigid cock into her 

mouth and throat. She was making little gasping, mewing noises. Combined 

with what she was doing, I knew I had maybe two minutes of restraint 

left and pushed her head up and off me.

     Again she pushed me back prone, but this time she licked her way up 

from cock to my chin and straddled me and then mounted me.

     Her cunt was tense, tight, very wet and unbelievably hot as she 

settled onto me. "It is so good, it is so good," she moaned as she 

sheathed my cock in her. When she was pressing that hugely swollen clit 

into the bony ring around the base of my cock, she leaned back slightly 

and I reached up to play with her nipples. Her cunt was already starting 

its spastic clenchings on me; pinching her nipples lightly turned the 

spasms into paroxysms.

     She began riding me, rocking her hips faster and faster over me. 

She came and then she came again. She threw her arms up over her head 

and shimmied. She started to topple backward, then caught herself on 

her outstretched arms and raised herself so only her cunt was touching 

me -- and it touched real good.

     Her movements became frantic. I ran my hands up over her sleek, 

taut thighs and then pressed my thumb against the base of her clit. She 

went nuts, ramming herself down on me faster and taster. I pressed my 

fingers down into her hard abdomen, just above her pubis, and she sat up 

abruptly and started to fall forward onto me, her legs still on either 

side of my hips. 

     I caught her and pulled her down close on top of me, until her 

nipples were gouging my chest and her face was against my neck. I put my 

hands on her thighs and guided her till she was tightly curled above me, 

then reached back and grabbed her ass, so firm and rounded. I guided her 

movements as I began pushing up into her. In that position, I knew my 

cock felt deeper in her and pressed all the right spots. I bucked faster 

and faster and squeezed her small ass cheeks.

     When I let the index fingers of each hand wander between those pert 

hillocks and begin massaging her asshole, she tensed -- and then went 

absolutely wild. She screamed against my chest and came and came. Her 

cunt, already tight, clamped down on my dick and all the muscles inside 

her seemed to go into convulsions. It took all of my strength to hold 

her crazily bucking form against me. I slid one finger to the first 

knuckle inside her ass and then I came.

     I came hard and long, my dick swelling and throbbing inside her. My 

balls lurched and I fired a long gusher of jism up into that tightly 

squeezing cunt, adding my heat to her molten grip. She bit my shoulder 

and shuddered powerfully as her cunt pulled and milked my dick until my 

balls were jerking dryly and I could hardly breath.

     I fell back, limp, and began shriveling inside her. I ran my hands 

up over her butt and the small of her back and held her close with my 

arms around her back at its broadest point. She slowly straightened her 

legs and lay sprawled atop me, her tight pussy holding my limpening dick 

inside her as if her cunt didn't want to let it go. Fine by me.

     Her spasms calmed as I began to catch my breath. We lay there for a 

long time, slightly sheened with perspiration and, between our legs, 

heavily soaked. Juices had leaked out around my cock despite  the

tightness of her cunt. I could feel the gentle undulations of her belly 

against me and her breathing pressed her lovely tits against my upper 

abdomen as she snuggled down into me. I ran my hands over her back and 

caressed her face, then slid one hand down to barely touch her ass. She 

shivered when my finger slid up along the crevice of those smooth little 

cheeks and when she shivered, she shivered inside, as well.

     "I always wanted to do that," she whispered.

     "Do what? This?" I pressed my finger against her anus.

     "No -- to be on top of the man because I want to be on top."

     I was a bit taken aback by this; she'd never been in the female 

superior? I decided to let it go for the time being. "Any time," I said. 

"I like it."

     "You do?"

     "Yes -- because then you do all the work and I just lay back and 

enjoy it."

     "Oh, you are making fun!' But she straightened and leaned forward 

and took my face in her hands and pressed her lips to mine. In the 

process, even her tight little cunt released my limp cock and once her 

twat was unstoppered, the juices poured out us. We scurried bare-assed 

out of the living room and seconds later were in the shower, enjoying 

the steady beat of the hot water on us. Looking at her all glistening 

and reveling sensuously in the water sluicing over her skin, I was again 

struck with her unaffected beauty.

     We soaped each other, lingering over Choice Parts.  At one point, I 

was bending over her with her snuggled back against me. I'd been soaping 

her front and my hands had gone lower. The lower my hands had gone, the 

more she bent, the more she bent, the more my cock hardened and suddenly 

she was holding the lower faucets and wriggling her bare buns back 

against me, massaging my cock between them. 

     "Have you ever done it in the shower?"

     "No -- it is too slippery!"

     I pulled back, meaning to put my cock to the entrance of her sweet 

cunt. "You're always slippery," I said. She bumped and the head of my 

cock caught momentarily on the tightly puckered rosette of her anus.

     She stood and turned to me, nearly falling. "No!"

     Her vehemence startled me. Sodomizing her hadn't been my goal, but 

I decided no explanations would be good at the moment and  simply

reassured her that we'd do nothing she didn't want.

     She raised her arms up to my shoulders -- and suddenly turned the 

spray into my face and skittered out of the tub. I heard her pause to 

pull a towel down from the linen shelf and then I was following wet 

footprints on the hardwood floor while toweling myself off. 

     I found her in the bedroom, rummaging through the closet. "Can I 

help you, ma'am?"

     "Thank you, I'm alright." She pulled my short blue terrycloth robe 

around her. It was short on me; it hung to her knees and the sleeves 

were not more than six or eight inches too long for her. She wrapped her 

towel about her dark, wet hair. "Can I help you?"

     I reached past her and took down my old, long flannel robe. "Thank 

you, I'm alright."

     She threw a hip into my thigh and I fell on my bed. I pulled her 

down on top of me and kissed her full on the mouth.  We lay there, 

cuddling for a few moments. 

     "I meant that about not making you do anything."

     "I'm sorry. It's just that it makes me remember...bad things."

     I kissed her eyes. "Let's make some good things to remember. 

Hungry?"

     "Oh, you will cook for me?"

     "You don't have to make it sound impossible. I can boil water and 

use a microwave with the best of them."

     "I am not really hungry."

     We decided on some fresh coffee and I suggested she try Irish-style 

coffee. She listened intently while I described it, then her eyes 

brightened and widened. "I will try it!"

     I ground and made the coffee -- two parts Sumatra to one part each 

French-roast Colombian and French-roast Altura Coatapec -- while she 

whipped the cream, something she had never done before. She whipped 

almost a half-pint in the mixing bowl; we wouldn't need more than couple 

of tablespoons. I decided there was no need for the excess to go to 

waste.

     I built the two confections lovingly. Irish style coffee prepared 

properly with fresh ingredients is a masterpiece of delight. First, a 

teaspoon of brandy (rye is too sharp). Then an ounce of coffee. Then a 

tablespoon of whipped cream. Repeat until the vessel is full  and

sprinkle just a little pinch of cinnamon, nutmeg or both on the last 

layer of whipper cream. If it's done gently and well, you can see the 

layers through the side of a good glass Irish coffee cup. 

     I was just to the second set of layers when she stopped me. "Why do 

you put less brandy in mine?"

     "Because I weigh twice as much as you."

     She drew herself up to her full five-foot-and-a-shade. "I want the 

same."

     I put whipped cream on the tip of her nose. "Okay."

     We sat in the living room talking about not much in particular, 

mostly just snuggling close on the couch while listening to  John

Williams's CD of Villa-Lobos. The only light in the room was from the 

street lights outside and the occasional flicker of a match as one or 

the other of us lit a cigarette.

     I was gently stroking the nape of her neck. About two-thirds of her 

coffee was gone. She leaned her head back, trapping my hand against the 

back of the couch. Her right hand slid down under my robe and gripped my 

cock. It immediately began swelling.

     "I like your penees," she said. "It is not too big."

     "Really know how to make a guy feel good, don't you?"

     She squeezed. "I learn."

     "I was being sarcastic."

     Her head came up and her face turned toward me. The light from the 

window failed to find a flaw. "I hurt your feelings?"

     "Guys generally don't enjoy being told they're small down there."

     "But you're not too small!" she protested. "It's just right! I 

don't like big peneeses."

     "Cocks."

     She squeezed.

     "Say it."

     "C-cocks." She giggled. 

     "Most women like 'em big. The bigger the better."

     "Oh, no! Too big and it hurts and then I can not enjoy it. I am 

very small, you know."

     "I noticed -- and I like it..." I started to slid my hand beneath 

her robe. She suddenly stood. She drained her coffee and held it out to 

me. "Can we make more?"

     I stood and took the cup. "Sure -- but don't you think you should 

eat first? You're going to get snookered."

     "'Snookered'?"

     "Silly."

     "Plastered, you mean."

     I nodded.

     "You would mind?"

     "Only if you're noisy or sloppy."

     She pressed up close to me. 

     "Besides," I said, "if you get drunk I can take advantage of you."

     "I don't know this word."

     "Ravish you."

     Comprehension dawned. "Ah, yes, have your way with me! Like in the 

romance stories." She laughed lightly. "More?"

     I nodded but put on my best Quizzical Expression.

     "Maybe there are things I want to tell you, but I can not say them 

if it is bright or I have not gotten a little bit snookies."

     "Snookered."

     "Plastered."

     "As you wish."

     I let her lead me through my own apartment toward my kitchen. I 

think she purposely twitched her little butt more than necessary for the 

benefit of her tailgater. I had a lot of questions and just as many 

hopes for what would come -- ahem -- to pass yet with this lovely 

Filipina immigrant. I really liked the prospects.

     I just wished I could stop thinking about her younger sister.



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