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Subject: {Bear}JDR"Glenda A"( MF )[1/2]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked
the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a
comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories
itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way
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The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this
posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in
any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright
below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as
well.
=====================
Finally the BEAR has completed to at least a small degree of satisfaction,
another original story. This one is unusual for the BEAR in that both
participants are adults, so there is not any youthful sex in this one. You
will find that like all my stories, the two really love each other, and sex
themselves into a fully committed relationship. There is no domination, no
sadism, and nothing but good, hot sex, made better by love and caring. If
this is "...Too sweet..." for your taste, then kindly don't read it. This
is the kind of stuff I write. If you like it, then tell me so. And the
rest of the net, too. There's all kinds of the rough and perverse stuff out
there, and unless you ask for and encourage it, those of us who like to
write the "sweet" stuff might give up and quit. If you like it, say so,
and ask for more.
**************************************************************
*** Copyright (c) 1995 by the BEAR. Duplication without ***
*** changes or omissions is permitted for personal, ***
*** non-profit use. All other rights are reserved. ***
*** [Permission may be available.] al-bear@ix.netcom.com ***
**************************************************************
=====================
GLENDA
The Bear
al-bear@ix.netcom.com
ONE
I was on my way home from work one day. While stopped at a traffic
light, I noticed a particularly good looking girl walking along the road a
little ways ahead. While I was admiring the way she walked, I realized
that another guy, passing in a pickup truck, was looking at her too, and
was looking so hard he nearly drove off the road. I laughed.
When the light changed, I began to drive off, and took a better look
at the girl as I drove by. It was my turn to almost drive off the road. I
knew her! She was the middle daughter of three of a friend of mine. I
slowed down. She saw and recognized me, and began to wave, so I pulled over
and stopped.
She came running up to the passenger door and I reached over and let
her in. She scrambled in and said, "God, am I glad to see you, John!"
"Well, I'm always glad to see you, Glenda. It's been a good long
time, though. I haven't seen you in a couple of years." I said. She'd
started giving her mother hell at about age 12, and by this time she had
been living pretty much on her own for quite a while, because the two of
them just couldn't get along. I knew that she had lived with another
family for some time, and then had moved in with a series of boyfriends.
She had recently moved back home again. But that was all I really knew for
sure. I had seen her maybe a dozen times, in the intervening years. We
hadn't spoken more than a few dozen times in between. Just enough to stay
acquainted and keep memories alive. She was now in her late twenties.
"God, you are really beautiful, though. I almost didn't recognize you
on the street, there. You were always a pretty little girl, but you've
turned into one hell of a good looking little woman." She is very tiny.
Her size has always been a running joke and topic between us. I've always
contended that when one is very tiny and has the build that she does, it is
extremely sexy. She - on the other hand - has always contended that someone
who is very large in stature, like myself, looks better. "Do you need a
ride home? Or somewhere else?" I added.
She's about four foot nine, and built to perfect scale. It's a very
small scale, but in what I consider absolutely perfect proportion. Since
she began to grow up, her figure has gotten slowly and slowly closer to
perfection. Her breasts are small, yet full, round and womanly. They'd be
tiny on anyone else, but because of her size, they seem quite large and
round. They stand proudly up and out on their own. She also has real hips
and womanly thighs, even though they are proportionally small. She has a
waist that I can close my hands around and touch fingertips without any
real effort. She might weigh a hundred and ten pounds after a large meal
and soaking wet. Her hair is streaky - blonde, she has green eyes, and a
face that starts stopped clocks, and men's imaginations. Well, mine,
certainly.
"Thank you. I appreciate the compliment. It hasn't done me a lot of
good in life, though." She paused. "Home? No. I just got thrown out of
- or left - my Mom's house again. And I'm damned if I'm gonna go back
there right now." She was looking positively grim. Although tiny, she has
a strong will, and is not easy to influence. Like many small women I have
known, her size is an inverse indication of the size of her character. She
was a dynamic individual as a child, as a woman she was even more so.
"Why? Wanta tell me what happened?" I asked, genuinely curious. I
have always liked Glenda. Maybe she needed an ear that was willing to
listen.
She thought about it for a couple of minutes. I looked at her, and
she was looking at me with a kind of strange look on her face. "What's the
matter?" I asked.
"I'm just gonna feel kinda funny telling you some of the stuff I think
I'm gonna say. I mean, you've been my Mom's friend for a lot of years. I
remember you reading me stories when I was eight or nine. I used to fall
asleep on your lap," she replied. "You've always been there for us when we
needed you. I guess I kind of feel odd about it, but I do need to talk
about it to someone." There was a soft tone in her voice that was
unfamiliar to me.
I'd dated her mom for a number of years before I realized that she and
I would never be anything more than friends. That's okay, but Glenda
reminded me - now more than ever - of the side of her mom that I had always
been attracted to.
"Glenda, you're grown up now. I'm your friend, too. If there's
anything I can do, all you have to do is ask. I remember those story
sessions, too. Very fondly. I know you and your mom have not been getting
on, but that's okay. I promise you that whatever you say will stop here,
and I also promise you that I will not judge you. I'll just listen," was
my answer.
"Yeah. You've always been like that. Okay. Here goes." And she began
telling me the story of what she had been going through from her
perspective. I do not choose to go into it in great detail here. Suffice
it to say that she had been through hell. And due to her Mom's well
intentioned house rules - which Glenda had difficulty accepting - she felt
at a very early age that she had no choice except to move out, and try and
find another place to stay.
Here, let me add that her mom is a real sweet lady, of good character
and of a generally kind nature. Of all her kids, however, Glenda has
always reminded her of herself. Because of that she has always been a
little more aware of the picadillos that Glenda - being energetic,
adventurous, and intelligent - was quite likely to be involved in. Mom had
pretty much done the same general kind of things herself as a girl, but
could no longer admit it, even to herself. Her mom is very religious and
believes firmly that there are certain moral things that a "good" girl
should not do.
When Glenda discovered her first orgasm at age 11, that started a
disagreement that was still going on. Glenda explained to me that she
really likes having orgasms, and genuinely can't understand why her mom
seems to be incapable of understanding that it feels good. The irony is
that if her mom had been able to accept her masturbation, it might have
stopped there, but because her mom just couldn't accept that, Glenda became
more determined to experiment, and not long before she turned 14, she
found a willing boy (real mystery there, eh?) and had full sex with him.
Not being the kind of person to hide things, she wasn't too careful, and
mom found out. That's when things really began to go to hell between
Glenda and her mom.
I knew all this from her mother's perspective. It was interesting to
hear it from Glenda. Who am I trying to kid. It was exciting. Glenda had
always been my favorite. When she started to do all the wild, sex-crazed
girl-stuff, (her mom's phrase) I was a little disappointed in a way, but it
also - to my own surprise - it kind of turned me on. I was more than a
little confused by these feelings at the time, and it took me a long time
to reconcile the sexual feelings I found that I was getting with the love I
already felt for the child - Glenda that I had cared for and grown to love.
Truth be told, the woman - Glenda was one of the most desirable women I had
ever seen. She was a lovely little girl, became even more attractive as a
teen, and now she was downright beautiful. In fact, to be totally honest,
I was a bit jealous of her lucky boyfriends. One of the reasons I had kind
of distanced myself was that I was uncomfortable with my attraction to
her.
Anyway, after she told me about this friction between her and her mom,
I let her know that her Mom had confided some of it to me back when it was
all happening and that I understood how she felt. I did not, of course say
anything about my own long standing attraction to her. I'd never mentioned
that to her. She was visibly relieved at my instant acceptance, and
continued on with her tale.
She'd eventually run away from home. She had been placed in a foster
home, and stayed there quite a while, because she had been able to get
regular sex from both the son of the family and eventually from the father
too. By the time the man's wife found out, she'd found a steady boyfriend,
and was able to move in with him.
This boyfriend was older than her by seven or eight years, and had a
good job, but turned out to be abusive. After a while she left him, and
moved in with her older sister, who had just divorced. After a few years
she found another guy, much older than the first guy, and well established,
and moved in with him. He wasn't abusive, but he had a penchant for
alcohol and drugs, and this eventually killed him. Glenda was broken-
hearted for a long time. She'd really loved this guy.
Finally, she'd tried to move back in with her mom again. But her mom's
moralistic stand on her sexuality started driving her crazy. When her mom
came home from work a little early today and had caught her playing with
her favorite vibrator, that had been another argument. Glenda had gotten
dressed and left. I had come along, and boy, was she glad. She'd had no
idea where she was going to go.
I found thoughts of that sexy little body doing such things to be
almost more than I could handle, and forced my mind to stop seeing those
arousing mental pictures.
"Could you put me up for a few days, until my mom cools off some?
Maybe I can go back home, then?" she asked.
"Of course, Honey," I said. "I'd be a real heel if I didn't help you
out." What else could I do? Leave her on the street for some bozo like
that pickup truck driver? No way. So I took her home with me. What else
could I do? One thing was sure, I'd have to be careful to marshal my own
thoughts.
TWO
Spilling out some of her feelings had made her feel a little bit
better, but she was a little surprised that I already knew so much about
what she had been going through.
"Well, like you said, I've known your mom for a long time, and she needed
to talk to somebody about what was bothering her. I've always been the
sort of person that other folks found easy to talk to. Maybe that's why
you're comfortable in telling me so much.
"I read between the lines pretty good, too. I knew you were getting
sexy not very long after your mom caught you even though she never said
anything directly about it. She can't even say the word 'sex' much less
accept the idea that it might feel really good, and with the right guy
might even be nice." I said. ("Oh yeah!" said my mind. "And boy, would
I like to be especially nice to you, you gorgeous little thing!"). (Aahhg!
Shut up, mind! Leave me alone and stop that!)
"You know, of course that your mom loves you and worries, and you
should know just as well that I care, and you also should know that nothing
you say to me will ever go to anyone else's ears from me. I listen. I
never ever repeat what I hear," I concluded.
"Yeah. Well, I guess so. You are a really nice guy. I remember how
much I enjoyed your visits whenever you came over. All us kids liked
having you around." She paused a moment. I stopped at a light, and looked
over at her. A big smile slowly came over her face, and she almost visibly
relaxed. "In fact," she added, "I may only stay with you a couple of days,
but I feel really good about the idea. I feel better about it the longer I
think about it."
"Glenda, I'm glad. I don't have a big place, but you are welcome to
share it as long as you need to. But I think your mom will cool down in a
couple of days, and you'll be able to go back home." It would be
interesting to have company for a few days. (But please, dear one. Not
for too long. I am - after all - only human.)
I stopped at a K-Mart and spent a few bucks on her, so that she'd have
some of the feminine necessities of life. She had left in a bit of a
hurry, and didn't have any girl stuff with her. My bachelor pad could
provide some things, but I knew she'd be more comfortable if she had extra
underwear and such-like. She'd get one of her sisters to bring her more
stuff later if she needed it. For now, she said, she'd just as soon not
talk to anyone but me.
"I need the chance to think a while, and to be away from verybody.
You're right. They all love me and care about me, but they all have
opinions. I don't want to listen to that stuff for a while. I just want
some quiet and to be left alone."
Once home, I proceeded to trash my usual schedule of a nice relaxed
evening of watching the news, and a little TV, and spent the whole evening
quietly talking with Glenda. As I say, I had always been very fond of her
- (FOND! Yeah, and mice are 'fond' of cheese, too.) - anyway, and as she
continued to open up to me, I found her to be truly intriguing, and I began
to feel even closer to her. I had no thought that she was finding me as
good a company as I was finding her.
She had to go to work fairly early in the morning, just like I did, so
about nine we began to prepare for bed. I folded down my couch-bed, and
made it up as she showered. Then I took my own shower, shaved, and
prepared my own bed. Both beds are in the same room, so we lay in bed and
talked for quite a bit longer before we went to sleep.
A couple of hours into the night, I was awakened by a yelp, and then
crying. I was at her side instantly. She was a little disoriented at
first, but as soon as she recognized me, she put her arms around me and
held me close, and began to cry her eyes out all over my naked shoulder.
It seems that she'd had a really bad dream in which she relived some
of the more unpleasant things that had happened between her and her mom.
Glenda is a sweet girl, and genuinely loves her mom, and feels guilty about
the frictions between them. I held her close and let her cry and talk it
out.
Finally, she felt a little better. I had her tiny form on my lap,
holding her, cuddling her, comforting her, just as I had when she was a
little girl. Now she was a woman, and I was trying very hard to not think
of just how much woman she was. I was also trying very hard to not think
how beautiful she was, and how good she smelled. I didn't want to get an
erection and give her - or myself - the wrong idea. I was feeling really
guilty at even thinking of Glenda in sexual terms, since she was depending
upon me as a friend and protector. But she was so sweet, so beautiful so -
well, there in my lap.
I made it. After a while, I stood up with her in my arms, tossed her
up in the air a bit - making her whoop - caught her, and placed her gently
back on the bed. Then I tucked her in, kissed her on the cheek and blew in
her ear - making her giggle - and went back to my own bed.
An hour or so later, I was awakened by a small warm form cuddling up
against me. "Glenda?" I said. "What in the world are you doing?"
"I'm getting into bed with you." She answered. "I don't usually have
bad dreams, and I can't sleep now. I figure that if I crawl in with you,
I'll feel more secure, and I'll be able to sleep."
"Oh. Okay." What else could I say. Besides, she's such a cuddly
little bundle of sweetness, that I kind of liked the idea. I wasn't awake
enough to consider the dangers that we were putting ourselves in for, and
for the precedence that this might set. I was asleep in minutes. I guess
she was too, because she didn't wake up again that I know of.
The next morning when I awoke, she was still there, just as closely
snuggled up as she had been the night before. I lay there, and enjoyed
sniffing her odors as she continued to sleep on for a few minutes. When
the alarm went off, I had the pleasure of watching her eyes flutter open,
and then watched thoughts flutter across her face as she remembered where
she was and how she had gotten there.
She stretched against me, and cuddled. "Oooh. Thanks for taking me
in. And thanks for letting me sleep with you. I slept really good. You
make a nice snuggle pillow."
I had to smile real big at that. "Thanks, honey. But don't ever tell
your mom. She'd have real trouble understanding that we could sleep
together and not have sex." The instant I said that, I felt something
intangible pass between us. I wasn't sure what it was, but I could see
that she felt it too.
I didn't understand til later that it wasn't until I brought the idea
up that she considered it as something even remotely possible. Until that
instant, I had been on her mental 'forbidden' list, despite her own long
repressed desires.
You see, I found out that she had always had a big-time crush on me.
She had at first wanted her mom to marry me, because she enjoyed my company
so much. Later, she had begun to see me as an attractive partner. She
isn't quite sure why, but she has found that she prefers men who are both
quite a bit older than she is, and that are very large and strong, although
the body-builder types don't tickle her fancy at all. She thinks that her
early attraction on me may have something to do with it. She blushed when
she told me that her first masturbation and orgasm had been done while
thinking of me. I blushed too, a little. But I was flattered.
It didn't help any when I rolled out of bed, and she saw that I had a
big morning hard-on. She cooed, and smiled, and teased me about it. Then
when she saw it was making me uncomfortable, reminded me that she had lived
with two men before and knew about such things, and apologized for teasing
me.
Trouble was that she apologized by hugging up to me and giving me a
big kiss. In the process, she managed to catch my erection between our
bodies, and squeeze it. It felt good. Too damn good. It felt a whole lot
better than I liked.
"Ooohh. Thanks for letting me snuggle with you. I really hate
sleeping along. I miss James a whole lot, but I miss him most of all when
I'm in bed alone. You're even cuddlier than he is, though. He'd never let
me hug up to him all night long like you do," she said. James was the
boyfriend that had died. He too, was a big guy.
When she let go and moved away she was just a little too bright eyed
for my liking. I began to suspect that she was beginning to get a little
turned on herself. I changed the subject immediately, and we got dressed,
made and ate breakfast, and made plans for the day.
I dropped her off at work, and continued on to my own job. It was a
good work day, but I couldn't stop thinking about the tiny yet full form
that I had held against me all night, and how good it had felt to hold her
close that morning. Later I found out that she pretty much thought about
the same sort of things all day long.
=====================
GLENDA
The Bear
Section A
-30-
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