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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2013.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Prodigy
by Aule (i_am_useful@yahoo.com)
 
***

An isolated and lonely young genius is given the 
Christmas gift of his life by the only woman who 
understands and accepts him. (MF, teen, cons, rom, 
1st)

***
 
This is the true story about my life. I didn't talk 
until I was 5 years old. The pediatricians my parents 
had taken me to, gave me a working diagnosis of 
autism. They said I would always stay a child, and 
never become independent. They recommended they put me 
away in an institution.
   
My parents refused to do that. They kept me close to 
home instead. At about the age of 7, when I finally 
did learn to talk, they mainstreamed me into a public 
elementary school. I was teased, taunted, and beaten 
up a lot. To make matters worse, my father eventually 
became a wife and child beater. My mother, at the same 
time, felt I was too vulnerable to be allowed contact 
with other children, so she forbade me to venturing 
away from home except for school hours.
 
The thing you have to understand is that while I still 
was never a very verbal child even when I finished 6th 
grade, one teacher noticed a discrepancy between my 
grades and my achievement tests, who then alerted the 
school psychologist, who then upon testing me 
discovered I actually had off-the-scale scores in 
nonverbal reasoning along with a photographic memory.
 
After a bureaucratic fight between my teachers and 
parents on one side, and the school board on the 
other, all the way up to the state level 
superintendent; I was given the offer to begin high 
school at the age of 12. 

While my classmates were warned to keep their hands 
off me, I was still especially lonely in high school 
since no student would even talk to me outside of 
class. I was far too intelligent for the kids my own 
age, and far too young for people I wanted to be 
friends with. To make matters much worse, my own 
mother remained extremely overprotective, essentially 
forbidding me any kind of social life for fear someone 
might take advantage of me.
 
I tore apart the entire high school's math curriculum 
and rode it right up to calculus with the help of 
tutors my mother hired. I also took some of the 
hardest courses the high school had to offer, finally 
graduating high school at the age of 15. My parents 
had no choice but to board me at a local college about 
3 hours away by rail. I was therefore attending 
college in my teens, the way nearly everyone else was 
attending high school in theirs. My mother still 
forbade me any social contact, and I could not defy 
her as she was paying for my tuition.
 
I was at least as lonely in college as I was in high 
school. My parents divorced in my sophomore year and 
since she was paying my tuition out of child support, 
I still had to dance to her tune. No frats. No 
parties. No clubs. No dates. I was also to leave 
college to return home every Friday, and leave home 
every Sunday for college.
 
I finally turned 18 years old as a junior in college. 
I was waiting for my next class on the doorstep of the 
engineering building watching the rain falling off the 
room. I saw a figure in a rubber yellow rain jacket 
stumbling toward me through the mud. Remembering my 
manners, I stood and offered the person my seat out of 
the rain. 
 
A lady's voice in a thrilling contralto thanked me. 
She motioned me back down to share the seat with me. 
She threw her hood back. She had brown hair, brown 
eyes, ivory skin, and a beautiful smile. I then also 
saw the reason for her hobbling.. She was walking on 
crutches.
 
Her name was Dana. To this day, I still carry a torch 
for her, even though I am happily married and even 
though she is twenty years dead. Here's why: 
 
I cut class that morning just to talk with her for a 
couple hours. She was absolutely amazing, a 
Renaissance lady who knew history and microbiology. 
She was a perpetual graduate student who attended this 
school simply for the sheer love of learning. I 
identified myself as an engineering major in the 
junior year. 
 
She said I looked very young to be a junior. My mother 
had been extremely beautiful in her day, and my father 
once said I'm the only one of his children to take 
after her. Evidently my round face which I inherited 
from her accentuated my youth even further. I also had 
dark brown hair, and soft grey eyes, and I wore 
aviator glasses.
 
I revealed my age to her. She asked me how that 
happened. I shrugged, saying "no 7th or 8th grade." 
"Oh, no!" she gasped. She was 32 years old, a trust 
fund baby, and owned her own house off campus. She 
told me once upon a time she had been an extremely 
bright child like me. "They called me a prodigy. I 
strongly suspect you are the same, just younger," she 
said.
 
We spent the entire year talking about practically 
anything she or I wanted to, over any subject you 
might possibly imagine. She was brighter than I was, 
than I was above average, her mind was an entire 
universe for me to explore, and I learned a great deal 
about the world from her. She was also a bit of a 
Japanophile, and tutored me on the bare bones of their 
honor code, bushido. She told me that she and I were 
both samurai, except that instead of katanas for 
weapons we had our own minds, and we were bound by our 
honor to use our powers wisely.
 
The reason for her crutches was a sparring accident 
from the karate club. The club was not a formal 
extracurricular activity, so during my freshman year 
at 16, I used that as my excuse to gain some exercise 
and some knowledge of self-defense. 

I figured what my mother would not object to me making 
an effort to lose weight in a gym, I simply neglected 
to mention exactly how. I was more than thirty percent 
overweight, the result of a lifetime of inactivity and 
stress-eating. I never advanced beyond white belt 
because of this.
 
I had never seen Dana before at the gym where the club 
held daily sessions, evidently she and I attended on 
different days. At the time I met her, I had been a 
white belt for three years, and she told me she held a 
green belt. She invited me to her house, where we 
spent a couple of hours per week doing very light 
sparring to get her knee joint back into shape. 

By the time she was completely well we would spar at 
half strength. She regained her ability to dodge any 
kick I fired at her. I got my share of thumps from the 
kicks she launched at me.
 
The year between the time I met her when I was 18, and 
the time I started the fall of my senior year when I 
was 19, were very happy times. I found myself falling 
for her, but I never had to courage to tell her that. 
Instead, I invited Dana over to my folks as a friend 
for Thanksgiving dinner. All that was left in my 
family were my mother, grandmother, and younger 
brother. 
 
Dana ate in silence and listened politely while my 
mother ranted on in such a way meant to drive Dana 
away from me as a friend. She left the house and drove 
off without a further word. A week later I receive a 
call from her in the college dorm asking if I wanted 
to visit her folks for a week during Christmas break. 
My heart leapt at the invitation, so I said yes. She 
said she would pick me up at my mother's.
 
(I have to admit to feeling at least a slight guilty 
pleasure for my first celebration of the Christmas 
holiday, as I had been born and raised Jewish.)
 
A couple weeks went by. Dana, true to her word, 
approached my house on Christmas Eve. As she walked 
through the door my mother was fixing to explode in a 
rage. Dana yelled, "Get in the car!" 

I did, then from the window I saw them having words 
with each other which I could not overhear. Dana then 
got in on the driver's side. I asked, "What was that 
about?" She said she would tell me later.
 
We drove for a couple hours to her father's home a 
couple states away. She introduced me to her folks, 
and we had dinner together, and some nice 
conversation. Then Dana showed me my room, then showed 
me where the shower was, and said she would see me 
tomorrow. I cleaned myself up and got into bed at 
11:45. The air was freezing but I normally did not 
wear underwear, so I shivered under the covers till my 
own body heat warmed me.
 
I was almost asleep when about a half hour later Dana 
herself comes in, not wearing a stitch, and holding 
only a single candle. This wakes me up instantly, and 
I sit both upright in the bed. Dana sits on its 
corner. The only thing separating us was a sheet. 
Truth be told, I wasn't sexually excited at this time, 
instead, I was shaking apart inside from nerves, I'd 
never seen a naked lady before, never mind one sitting 
just barely beyond my reach.
 
We talked for a while. Dana told me I had not 
exaggerated regarding my own mother. She observed 
during her own indigestible Thanksgiving dinner that 
while my mother originally may have had the good 
intentions of protecting me from the rest of the 
world, my mother had now become obsessed with control 
of me, and therefore had turned evil.
 
Here and now, Dana said, she would pledge herself to 
stopping my mother. I asked her, "how?". Dana said she 
saw only one way, and that was for her to convince me 
I should live for myself, rather than live only for 
others.
 
"What are you going to do?" I asked her. "Give you a 
gift," Dana said. So In all her nakedness aglow by the 
single candle, Dana smiled at me. Holding her arms out 
open towards me, she said, "Merry Christmas. Come 
here."
 
I closed the gap of frigid air between us, but I don't 
notice the cold because we are embracing each other 
sitting on the edge of the bed, and her skin is 
warming mine. I bury my face in her shoulder. Tears 
leaked down my face to drop on her skin. 

Moments later, I am overwhelmed by waves of crushing 
sadness. My body was racked in sobs, my eyes weeping 
many bitter tears over too many years spent isolated 
from humanity without any affection, friendship, or 
touch. Such had been the fate of someone no-one made 
the effort to understand, save for her.
 
Dana lets me cry for as long as I want. When I am 
finally cried out, she approaches my lips with hers, 
and kisses me softly. Then she tilted her head to 
breathe, makes a complete seal of her mouth over mine, 
and in practically no time our tongues begin dancing. 
Not breaking the kiss, my hands start feeling the 
softness of her long mane of hair, then roam down her 
back, and then her sides. Dana is caressing my neck 
all this time.
 
I break the kiss and lay down sidewise upon the bed, 
my body is so warm now that I need no sheet or blanket 
to stay harm. Dana lays down with me. She reaches over 
and kisses my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and works 
downward to my chest. In the meantime, I reach out to 
her chest and gently caress the softness there, 
holding them gently in my hands, rubbing the tips with 
my thumbs, and then I suckle them in instinctive need.
 
Desire burns within me like a rocket engine. I have 
now become thoroughly aroused, and there is a part of 
myself now standing proudly. Dana gently holds my 
circumcised tip in her hand. "It's only six inches," I 
confessed. I measured once during the times I would 
discreetly take care of myself without Mother knowing. 
From my readings of Father's obstetrical textbooks 
when I was still only 13, I understood myself to be 
human average. 
 
"But it's round and fat, like a baseball bat," she 
said, "and I want it inside me."
 
"The Cowpers glands emit fluid containing sperm that 
could still make you pregnant even if I don't 
ejaculate inside you," I told her.
 
"Don't worry," Dana said. "As soon as I learned you 
were telling the truth about your entire life, I 
decided I had to intervene. I had an IUD put right 
after Thanksgiving was over."
 
"Here," she told me as she guided my hand, "can you 
feel the string?". It was there, so I nodded. I also 
brushed her soft petals along with the surrounding 
hair. Embolded, I inserted my index finger deeply 
within her.
 
"Gently!" she cautioned me. I felt around for the 
other important structures I read about. "Yes, that's 
my cervix you're touching. Now, if you put a little 
pressure upward... OH, YES!". I think that was the 
Grafenberg spot.
 
"Now, just at the front, you should feel a little 
button," Dana continued. I found it, and I touched it 
gently. She closed her eyes, and her mouth opened 
slightly. I was sending her to ecstasy just touching 
her there. I kept on doing that for a while.
 
Dana opened her eyes. She rolled us, with herself on 
her back, me on top. "It's time," she said.
 
I began shaking from nervousness. "Don't worry about 
performance," she reassured me. "Move up a little," 
she said. As I did so, she grasped me in her hand and 
ran my tip back and forth against her moistness. "Now, 
drop slowly, just let gravity do the rest," she 
instructed. I followed her instructions.
 
Perfection. Paradise. Wonder. Amazement.
 
I had sunk into her to the hilt. I didn't want to 
move. I just stayed there for a minute or so. "I love 
having sexual intercourse with you!" I declared.
 
"It's called 'fucking'," she corrected me. "I can feel 
you up to my navel. My chest. My throat! Now move it 
in me. Hard, honest strokes. Let your body take over. 
Ravish me without mercy."
 
I took Dana at her word. I actually had problems 
learning how to climax, it initially took me a half 
hour for my mind to release its hyper vigilance from a 
lifetime of emotional abuse, and permit my body to 
take over.
 
She shivered in my arms as I approached my first 
climax ever inside a woman, nothing mattering aside 
from this amazing female human in my arms, the first 
one who had ever accepted me exactly for who and what 
I was.
 
I began shaking and my eyes started to shut of their 
own accord. My pelvis slammed into hers, my erection 
slammed into as far as it could possibly go... my 
world went dark, my mind had finally gone away, 
because I was erupting deep into her belly, in a 
series of volcanic explosions, no longer thinking... 
only feeling...
 
Heaven. 
 
Eventually I returned to reality, my breathing slowing 
to normal. I laid my head between Dana's breasts. "I 
love you," I said. Dana just kissed the top of my head 
and wrapped her arms tighter around me while we 
enjoyed the afterglow together as we fell asleep in 
each other's arms.
 
I spent the days of Christmas week together with Dana 
and her family, dining together, exploring the 
country-side, playing board games, and just talking. 
But I spent the nights of Christmas together with her. 
She revealed to me she had only one prior boyfriend, 
who had treated her like dirt during her first time. 

She felt I was the best possible candidate to help her 
recover from the abuse. I therefore wasn't just 
receiving the gift of my life from her, but I was also 
giving to her in return a gift she desperately needed. 
She needed to be loved as much as I did.
 
I proposed to her on the fifth evening with her. Dana 
said no. She said our age difference was too great. 
 
I said, "I don't care. I'll stay at your home and 
raise your babies." 
 
Dana said, "No. The world needs you far more than I 
do. You need to learn things, do things, achieve 
things, have a career, and you can do none of those 
with me tying you down."
 
"But..." I said.
 
"In fact," she said, "we won't be seeing each other 
again. That way you'll have to reach outward to other 
people besides myself."
 
I looked down at the bed. "Friends forever, at least?" 
I asked her in tears.
 
She thought about it. She reached out to tilt my chin 
upward so my eyes could once again meet hers. Then she 
nodded. "I'll give you my phone number," she said. 
"You can call me any time of the day or night for 
advice on anything."
 
My tears were still on my face, but I smiled through 
them. "You have no idea how much even just your 
friendship would mean to me," I told her.
 
"I wish I could let myself love you," Dana said. "But 
I think I'd be wrong to do that."
 
"I understand the necessity," I replied. "But even if 
the love can only be one way, it's still there."
 
For the very first and the very last time did I ever 
see tears on Dana's cheeks. She said nothing. I opened 
my arms toward her. "C'mere," I said. She held me 
tight for a while.
 
Then I turned the tables on her. I used upon her 
everything she taught me that week. I didn't just have 
intercourse with her, fuck her, or ravish her, or any 
of the other things she had requested I do to her.
 
I simply made very slow, very sweet love to her. I 
used my mind alongside my newfound knowledge, 
resolving to give her the best experience ever. Only 
missionary was possible because even with her knee 
healed, placing any extended stress upon it was simply 
out of the question. We had made the most of it all 
this time.
 
I kissed her cheeks, lips, eyes, neck. I licked her 
fingers, one at a time, then each of her toes. Then, I 
not only tasted from her flower, I drank from it until 
she squeezed my head between her legs and shuddered in 
a climax. 
   
Then and only then did put myself into Dana for the 
final time. I looked deep into her warm brown eyes as 
I took myself by the hand and guided myself into her. 
Then, about halfway in, I had a sudden inspiration. I 
gently reached behind Dana's head and placed my hands 
behind her head, resting on my arms on the bed by each 
side of her shoulders. The increasing pressure from my 
embrace caused me to sink all the way into her. 
   
 Now my face was only an inch or so away from hers. 
"This is for you," I whispered to her. I tilted my 
head, and then I kissed her deeply. My tongue gently 
probed her mouth, synchronized to the soft and gentle 
motions in and out. I had quickly analyzed that week 
about how women climax. Force or speed isn't 
necessarily the key, consistency is.
 
I didn't need to do this for too long, maybe about 
five minutes. Suddenly, Dana wrapped her arms around 
me. Her body shook violently, and she quietly screamed 
through my mouth and down into my throat. I broke the 
kiss, supported myself on my hands, and continued to 
move gently. She shuddered again, silently, less 
violently. 

I decided it was time to go for my own climax. I 
finally learned how to let myself go so that I didn't 
need a half hour to climax. I could let it happen. I 
made the effort this time to keep my eyes open, this 
time, and lock my gaze to hers. I wanted Dana to know 
how I really felt about her. 
 
"Words fail!" she said to me to afterwards. "You'll 
make some extremely lucky woman a wonderful husband!"
 
We cuddled in the bed, one final time, and slept until 
dawn, when we had breakfast together, just us, alone, 
no other family. Then, Dana drove me back to my house. 
We shared one last lovers' kiss before I left her car. 
Then she drove off. 
 
Dana was true to her promise. For the next eight 
years, she answered my calls. I would call her once a 
year just for companionship, but I would occasionally 
call her when I had problems learning how to 
communicate with co-workers or negotiate a romance. 
Her phone disconnected when I tried to call on year 
nine. I was a little hurt, but I also judged that Dana 
had her own life to live also, and I couldn't lean on 
her forever.
   
About year ten, I had married. Things were not going 
well, as my first wife had hidden her bipolar 
depression from me until after the wedding night, and 
things were just getting worse three months into the 
marriage. I then received a blank postcard bearing 
Dana's first name, a new last name, and no message. 
Dana had only known my address growing up, so this had 
been forwarded by the post office about four times, 
and the post-mark date was months old.
 
I found a private place to make a long distance phone 
call. According to the postmark she now lived in a 
different town. In a matter of minutes I used 
directory assistance to find her phone number. Then, I 
was able to call her. It had been about a two years.
 
Dana picked up the phone. She sounded tired. I found 
out why. She said she had advanced multiple sclerosis, 
and she had wanted me to call her. She couldn't send 
me a message directly for fear of upsetting her 
husband about her past regarding me. She was glad I 
was able to intuit her request. 
 
She said that a year or so after I left college she 
married a professor she had her eye on for a while but 
was too afraid to approach until I had changed her 
life. Her life was a very happy one ever since, and 
she had two beautiful girls by him. She said this 
would be our final call, because she was in her final 
days. She wanted me to contact her so that she could 
thank me for everything I had done for her.
 
I decided I would have the grace to not bother her 
with my own problems. "Thank you too, for everything," 
I said over the phone.
 
"It was my honor," she said. 
 
Those were her last words to me. The call ended. Her 
life ended somewhat later. I was now completely on my 
own.
 
Ten years after that, my first wife and I divorced on 
fair terms. I had hung on all that time, trying to 
make her life happy, but finally I had good cause to 
resign from my marriage: she wanted me to take an 
overdose of her medications with her. It broke my 
heart, but leaving the marriage was like waking up 
from a nightmare anyway.
 
A few years later, I married again, this time to the 
right lady. She was a schoolteacher, reasonably bright 
but extremely compassionate and loving. Also, 
extremely passionate. We met electronically, had our 
first date four weeks later, and during that date 
destiny happened to us: we made tender and passionate 
love the next couple nights of the kind only poets 
write about. We married a year later. 

The year following, our beautiful little girl was born 
to us. I got to be there in the delivery room and cut 
the cord while she rested on her mother's belly. I 
held her in my arms after they cleaned her. I fell 
into those dark beautiful eyes and got forever lost in 
love with her.
 
I'm 50 now, having retired early due to disability. My 
wife retired with me. We're both stay at home parents, 
raising our school aged child. Money is always tight, 
but there's always more than enough love to go around.
 
God bless you, Dana, and I hope He's smiling on you 
somewhere in the afterlife.
 
I couldn't have managed to beat the nearly impossible 
odds of my upbringing, found my own way to earn a 
living and become independent, persevered during a bad 
first marriage, found the second love of my life, and 
finally built a loving family, without your help.
 
END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any
of the scenarios in this story should seriously 
consider seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 78