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Sweet Memories

By: ehlanna



I haven't thought of my first anal experience in years, but today, the memory came to me.  I would like to share the story with you.

We were quite close and very open about all things, and since Mike was much more experienced than I was he had taken it upon himself to make sure I had a well-rounded sexual education.. The conversation turned out something like this:

"You know honey, I have never met anyone like you," Mike said, "you have never turned down any kind of sex. You were a virgin when we met and now in the three years I have known you, we have had more sex than any women do in their entire life."

"Well, my mom always said don't knock it till you try it." I said,trying to guess where this was leading. 

"Do me a favor? I want to tell you a story. Lie back on your bed with your eyes closed and enjoy."

I murmured my agreement, knowing his stories were always sexual I started to strip. Juggling the phone on my shoulder I bent to pull off my shorts. Of course that made the phone cord pull tight, making me drop the phone. Picking it up I unbuttoned my shirt. Why hadn't I gotten a longer phone cord? Trying to pull the shirt off was impossible, but I didn't want to miss his opening. Finally I decided to leave my bra and underwear on and save more damage to the phone. I made sure my few toys were in reach. "Go ahead;  I am comfy now."

"This is what I want to do to you." I felt myself react when his voice lowered into his storyteller timbre. "I would love to have you here right now to show you but I know your imagination will make it even better for you. First, I would take you into my arms and kiss you deeply, until you pulled away to catch your breath. While you are slowing your breathing I unbutton your shirt, sliding it down your arms as my lips follow the material. Next I will take off your jeans, toying with the waistband, then with one powerful tug I send them to puddle around your ankles. Then I would lay you down on that ugly flowered couch in my front room to finish pulling off your pants, after each leg comes free I will suck on your toes and lick across your instep. Kissing my way back up to your mouth I stop only briefly to run my tongue over your still dry panties. You know how much I love those white cotton panties? They always seem so virginal." 

At that I glanced down at the panties I was wearing which were, as he had guessed, white cotton. Though the panties weren't quite as dry in real life as they were in his imagination. I knew this would be a good just because of the details he used.

"Leaving your panties I run my tongue up and use the gentlest of touches at the sensitive areas under your breasts. With my mouth so close I can't resist staying here to worship each breast. I circle my tongue around I watch your nipples harden until I reach one I take it into my mouth biting slightly, making you tense up. After making sure each nipple was hard and tight as pencil erasers, I continue to lick and tease them but let my attention and my hands trail down your stomach to pull your panties down your legs. "

As Mike told me what he would do to me my hands followed the imagined trail down my body making it react the same way. I was ached to touch my pussy but so far he hadn't touched it so I had to make do with my nipples. Pulling down my panties as he had said I could feel they were soaked.

"I let my finger run along your slit feeling the thick lubrication of your cream. Pushing your legs up I slide my body down yours until your thighs are propped on my shoulders. Getting you into a good position with your ass off the edge of the couch I do something I have never done before. I start to tongue your asshole. At first you jump away from me but I make sure to hold your thighs tightly and keep pressing my tongue against your asshole. You slowly relax trying to get used to the feeling. Then I feel you start to press against me and know you are starting to like it. Once I have your tight little ass well lubed I move my mouth up to your cunt."

How did he know my deepest fantasy? My fingers tickled my asshole as I imagined his tongue teasing me. Suddenly I didn't want to be alone. I wanted Mike and I wanted him as soon as possible.

"Mike? I'm coming over right now." I interrupted.

"You can't come over, you don't have a car and mine is in the shop." He said,  laughing.

"Yeah, so?" It's only a mile walk. The exercise will do me good. Maybe it will cool me off some. I'll be over in about half an hour," I hung up the phone then so he couldn't object anymore. 

I got dressed again as quickly as I could. I practically ran into the door because I was hurrying so much. I jogged the half mile to his house in less than fifteen minutes. I made it in half the time, but he was standing at the door waiting for me anyway. He wrapped me in his arms and held me till my breathing and pulse had settled as much as they were going to then took my hand to lead me into his house. 

He started recreating the scenerio. Once he had me down on the couch and was licking my asshole I knew that was what I wanted. I didn't even shy away like he thought I would but encouraged him more. 

Mike moved up to my clit to start the little butterfly flicks that he loved to use on me. I felt him slide a finger into my pussy, then out. I felt his finger against my ass and before I could have second thoughts he started to slide it in. I was so horny and distracted by his tongue it didn't even hurt like I thought it would. I kept trying to press down against his finger but his shoulders held me in place, letting him set the pace. After a few moments, Mike slid another finger into me as he started lapping my clit like a thirsty dog. In a flash he had me ready to cum but backed off sliding his fingers out of me and sat back. 

After my initial shock, I looked at him and saw his little smile. As I smiled back he started to guide me around so I was kneeling on the floor with my upper body bent over the couch cushions. As I was shifted my weight a bit to find the most comfortable position I felt a cold wetness dribble down my ass crack. Jumping a bit I looked back to see him coating his dick. I watched him rubbing his dick and felt myself getting slightly jealous of the attention it was receiving but then I felt the head of his cock against my asshole and I forgot everything but that moment. 

When Mike began pushing, my body automatically tightened. Even my mind panicked for a moment. He continued to keep pressure against me while stroking my hips and thighs. His other hand went around to rub my clit. 

"Relax honey. You are in control, you only have to take as much as you want to." He kept repeating it like a mantra. 

Finally my body relaxed, I pressed back against him feeling the head of his dick pass my sphincter. I gasped and made my body relax more. We pressed together drawn like magnets until his hips pressed against my butt. He started pumping in and out of me taking my hand and placing it against my clit so that he could use both hands to control my hips. I humped back against him getting him to fuck me harder and harder. As I started to cum I could feel myself squeeze him tightly. He called out but my own cries were too loud in my ears. Suddenly I felt him start to shake and the knowledge that he was squirting in my ass made me cum even harder.'

Sweet Memories



My Sweet Lovely Tigress, 

It was early Saturday morning at 5.30am that I awoke from my restless sleep… you see, all night I was tossing and turning and my dreams were filled with romantic dreams/visions of us together… I could see in my mind’s eye; us together entwined in a passionate embrace, exchanging longing kisses which were long belated… lying on my bed, it felt so real that at last my dreams had come true… that my yearning for you would be fulfilled… With my eyes closed, I whispered a secret prayer that our meeting would be the tender romantic tryst that I had so fervently hoped for…. “sigh”

Easing the car out of the driveway, I headed off into the highway, the smell of the fresh Saturday morning so clean and crisp and fortified with some fisherman’s friends mints and a bottle of mineral water, I resolutely determined that I would meet you, at whatever the cost; because for me – this was the only time I would have left to develop a romantic relationship with you as the CSU masters degree course was coming to its completion. 

Looking back now, my decision to change to the “General stream” because I wanted to be with you was the right decision; at the time, I wanted you so much that if you changed to any stream, I would have followed you (though I would not have told you so at that time). “smiles” 

Driving through the green verdant hills dotting the landscape leading to Kuantan; my mind was occupied with many things like “should I buy you a bouquet of roses?” , “should we have drinks first?” or “maybe, swimming first would be a good idea?”. I wanted so much to pleasantly sweep you off your feet and ensure that your experience in Kuantan would be wonderful that the miles just melted away as I drove feverishly and overtook many cars in my efforts to reach as early as possible…

Reaching the town of Kuantan, I felt a sense of homecoming because I have come to love this quiet idyllic town with its breezy romantic windswept beaches dotted with lush palm trees and its quaint hawkers stalls with delicious and reasonable wares… I picked up my hand phone and tried calling you but the lines were unclear so I tried sending you a few sms. My heart beat erratically as I kept looking at my hand phone; waiting in anticipation for your reply… “sigh”

Moments later, I was exhilarated when I read your sms, saying that you too had arrived and that soon, we would meet. Turning into the Hyatt Kuantan driveway, I turned down my car’s side window and was thrilled to feel the soft sea breeze caressing the side of my face and to savor the view of the quiet romantic beach with multitudes of wavering fronds from the coconut trees, all moving in unison with the afternoon sea breeze. 

Parking the car, I felt slightly hungry but my longing for you was even more stronger and I thought to myself that I must take things one at a time so I decided to have a meal at McDonald’s to quell my immediate needs so that I could satisfy our desires better. “wink wink”

Lounging on the sofa at the Hyatt reception, I tried hard to keep my concentration on a magazine about cars which my finance director had brought from England for me… the funny thing was as I admired the beautiful curvy shapes of the sports cars, my thought lingered on your lovely figure which I had admired from afar , many a time during the lectures at our college. 

Seems, you are always on my mind and everything reminds me of you… “smiles”

I felt your presence when you arrived, even before I saw you… words cannot express my joy to see you… you looked just simply wonderful to me; even with just a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, just beautiful and angelic to me… so lovely…  Words can’t express my feelings and longing for you and the love song below, called At Last, sung by Etta James, a lovely romantic slow jazz ballad says it completely for me. And so, this is from me to you ~ 

“At last… my love has come along  
My lonely days are over and life is like a song 

At last… the skies above are blue
My heart was wrapped up in roses, the afternoon I looked at you 

I have found the dream that I could speak to…
A dream that I can call my own

I found a thrill to press my cheek to…
A thrill that I have never known

Ohhh… You smiled… and then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven…

For you are mine… at last”


I can’t write any more because my heart is overwhelmed with longing… “smiles” So, till we meet again….

Tender Hugs and warm wet soft kisses~



Sweet Memories



Author’s Introduction

Hi, I want to start each of my stories off with a little info about myself. If you are only interested in the juicy details, just jump ahead to the story. Personally, I’d like to think though, that my stories are as much about the Background as the about the Action, so I want to tell you a little bit about myself first. First of all, and this is very important, all the stories I intent to write really happened either to me or to friends of mine. None of the stories are invented (unless my friends did the inventing to impress me).

Secondly, I’d like to point out that English is not my native language, so I hope you can forgive me for any bad grammar that might find its way into my stories. I’ll do my very best.

So now, let me introduce myself. My name is Steven, I am now 25 years old, and I am from Germany. Obviously, I love sex, like everybody else I guess. I’ve had a couple of steady Girlfriends, and I always got my fair share of One Night Stands, but I also had more than one rather special adventure, and mostly that will be what I plan to write about.

Any comments and questions are of course welcome. Please tell me what I can do better, what you really enjoyed, and what you want to hear about next. I also own pictures (non-nude) of most of the girls from my stories, if anybody is interested. I don’t want to post them here because I think that might cause me some trouble, but I guess individual e-mails won’t hurt.

So long…

Steven

Story Introduction

OK, so this is the first Sex Story I write, so I apologize in advance for any shortcomings. Please help me get better by sending me your comments. I chose this for my first story because it is more or less straightforward, but it also demonstrates that I enjoy a little something special in sex. Have Fun.

Sweet Memories

This happened when I was about 21. Back then I was in Engineering School, and since all the girls you could meet around there looked more masculine then me (there was one exception, but I’ll come back to that in a different story), all the sex I got were Disco One Night Stands. And honestly, that was just fine with me… I had a big car, a box of condoms, and I could always count on finding some action sooner or later.

This Story has nothing to do with clubbing though. I was sitting around at home on some Wednesday of Thursday evening lurking around a local chat-room. Chats are an interesting place. While the male-female ratio is quite bad, I found that given some stamina, you can always count on getting lucky sooner or later. 

Over the years, I learned that the best tactic is to stay with small talk, show you are more intelligent than the 200 other guys in the room, and let her approach the sex topic. Quite frankly, I think that if a woman visits a chat-room at 10 PM, chances are she wants more than talk about her favorite movie, but of course, she doesn’t want to be seen as a slut. Therefore, a little patience is always the best way to go. 

I honestly don’t remember all that much about that night in general, but I got into a discussion with a woman called Tania. So I did my usual thing, and kept her interested. I find out she’s 25, working as a nurse, been married for 2 years at that point. I tell her about myself, and also send her a picture. 

She must have liked what she saw, because talk starts getting dirtier. Once she gets that ball rolling, I put on the coals… Try to get her hot in her panties. I find out that she’s got her pussy shaved and that she’s got pretty big titts. I tell her about my adventures, not hiding that I like to switch partners quite often. She seems rather interested.

“When did you have sex for the last time?” she asked.

“Last Week-end”

“Tell me about it?”

“Not much to tell. I went out dancing and met this girl. She was rather shy, but a few beers took care of that :).”

I was very interested in how she would react to this.

“You got her drunk to have sex with her??? That’s not very nice!!”

Hmmm… should I play hard, or pull back a little? I decided to go for it…

“Well, I didn’t force her. I just kept buying the drinks. Someone should have warned her about guys like me I guess ;).”

Pause.

“Yeah, I guess.” … “What did you do to her?”

Bingo. That’s what I call a clear victory. The story was true by the way. I didn’t wanna risk getting caught in a fake story. I thought back to that evening smiling. The girl had been pretty young, closer to 18 than to 20. 

Her name had been Sarah, but I actually didn’t find that out until our next meeting. Apparently, she had lost the friend she had come with somewhere, and she was very nervous. This had made it almost too easy for me to offer her a drink or two to calm down. Between all the club sluts that I saw around there every week, she had stood out. 

Rather plain looking, with her hair in a pony and no make-up on, she would have looked more at home in a school bus than on a dance floor, but by following her with my eyes for a couple of minutes before offering my help, I could see that her body was fresh and ripe. Hidden under her shirt, I could make out a pair of fabulously perky C-Cup breasts and one look at her lower body revealed a very small, almost girlish ass.

“I didn’t do anything bad to her. I was just a nice guy and offered to drive her home. It just so happened that I made a little stop on parking first.”

“So you fucked her?”

“Yep. That was all I could do anyway. She didn’t want to suck my dick.” 

Plus, she had really been to drunk by then. I was lucky she had a Student Card on her or else I would have had no idea where to drop her off. Of course, that was only to my advantage, as she didn’t even react when I stopped on the dark parking lot of a nearby mall. 

By then I had started to be pretty horny, so I didn’t bother with the usual kissing and titt sucking, and skipped right to the main event. It took me a minute to get heron the back seat but once we were installed it only took me a couple of seconds to put my hand up her squirt, wiggle past her underwear and plunge a finger between her cunt lips. For a second I thought she would come to, but she was too far gone, so I could proceed to get her into a good fuck position.

“Say… you are awfully nosy. How about you tell me something about your sex life?”

“You mean with my dildo? Cause let me tell you: Being married isn’t exactly good for my fuck quota!”

“So when was the last time you did have sex?”

…

“Last month I guess :(!!!”

“Wow… I don’t think I could do that!”

“Well, not like I am volunteering! So tell me more about last week end.”

“Sure… What do you want to know?”

…

“Well… Did she put up a fight?”

Strange Question…

“No, she was quite docile.”

More like unconscious, to be honest.

“I don’t know… Did you lick her first?”

“No, her twat wasn’t shaved, and I don’t like hair in my mouth, so I just used some lube to get her wet.”

“So you have condoms and lube in your car? I guess this happens to you regularly?”

“I do my best”

“So how did you fuck her? What position?”

“Ohhh… she was sitting on her knees on the back seat, facing the rear window, so I could fuck her from behind. That way, she did not have undress, and instead just lifted her squirt for me. And I could squeeze her little titts at the same time.”

God, those titts had felt nice. I would have sworn that she had been wearing a bra by the way they had been staring at me all night, but when I felt her up, that they were naturally perky. I remember that I hated myself for not having my camera on me that night. 

I know that experience has its advantages, but sometimes, there’s nothing better than a fresh young girl. When I had started fucking her I thought, her pink pussy embraced my shaft so tightly that I had to concentrate for a second not to shoot my load within the first few second. For a second, I actually thought that I had accidentally hit her ass hole. 

Once I had gotten my juices under control, I could settled into a steady fuck rhythm, and take my time to look down at my helpless pray. Within seconds I was on the brink of an orgasm again. 

The view was just too good to be true. I hadn’t bothered taking her off her panties and her dress had fallen down a little bit again, which made that she looked completely dressed and almost innocent. Yet, I felt my dick all the way in her wet pulsing slit. I completely possessed her.

This thought mad me loose all control. I honestly would have wanted to have a little bit more time with this young bitch, but in this case, my body just didn’t want to play the way my head ordered. 

Knowing that I had lost the battle, I tried to make the most out of it, and started ramming my cock into her harder and faster. At the same time I reached beneath her from both sides, and grab one of her titts in each hand. Then I used that grip to pull myself even harder into her body and give those fine boobs a decent squeeze while I was at it.

I remember fucking that poor girl’s cunt like a wild man, and her young hole massaged my dick with every stroke while her body was sprawled out before me. This treatment must have been a little too hard for her, because she started whimpering under my thrust, and that was all I needed to set of a massif orgasm.

After that, I drove her home and helped her to her front door. But first I called myself from her cell phone to get her number. One never knows when that can come in handy. She was more lucid now and I gathered I could leave her there without too much of a risk.

“Anything else you wanna know ;)”

…

“…”

“Hello?”

…

“How big is your dick?”

There we go. I guess her little panties are all wet over there.

“I don’t know. I’m really not into measuring ;). Maybe you should find out by yourself.”

“I don’t know. You know I’m married and all… but… I don’t know… Do you maybe wanna go see a movie some time? Just as friends”

Yeah sure… Friends… I guess she asks all her friends how big their dicks are, right? But hey… it was an invitation. I decided to go with it. I could be reasonably sure that she wanted me, so I could afford taking it slow. I had made my offer, so now she had to decide what to do with it.

“Sure, haven’t been to the movies in a while, so that sound cool. I’ll give you my number and you can call me when you find the time. *** *** ****”

“OK. And maybe… we can do something else afterwards? Have a drink or something?”

“Sure, why don’t you surprise me?”

We talked some more after that, but I did my goodbyes soon enough and left her to her thoughts. Personally, I was looking forward to that date quite a bit. Something told me that this girl was one hot bitch. And maybe there was some extra fun to be had in this if I played my cards right.

End.

Afterthoughts

Well, there you go. This is the first of many stories I plan to write. In the second chapter of this story, I will tell you guys about my first “date” with Tania, and the last chapter will be about our last adventure together.

Please send me your thoughts on this story, so I can improve my writing. I would also be interested in knowing what kind of stories you guys would like me to write. I don’t want to bore you with stuff that nobody wants to read. I already have a couple of other memories I could on writing about. 

But the most important thing is what you readers want to see. Vacation Stories? Girlfriend Stories? Clubbing Stories? Please let me know what you would like to read next.

So long…

Steven



Sweet Memories



Jayne woke up. Blearily her eyes opened and she found herself staring at a cream coloured ceiling. Dimly, her brain registered a rhythmic beeping sound in the background. 

She felt uncomfortable and her muscles ached. Pushing through thick treacle, her hand made its way to her face and found a thin, plastic pipe that was taped to her cheek and fed up her nostril. She could also see another one taped to the back of her hand. 

She felt like she was trying to think through cotton wool. Her muggy brain was unable to assimilate her current situation. 

A white blob appeared in front of her and slowly resolved into a middle-aged woman's face. It had a friendly smile and said, "Hello Jayne, welcome back." 

"Wh... Where am I?" 

The smile slipped slightly, "You had an accident, you're in Wensbury Town Hospital. Don't worry, you'll be fine, but we needed to keep an eye on you." 

The nurse glanced at her watch, "Don't you worry Dear, the doctor knows you're awake and he's on his way now. He'll explain everything. You just rest until he gets here, okay?" A quick check of the electronic readout next to the bed and the nurse left the room. 

Jayne was a little disturbed. What accident? She couldn't remember any accident. She concentrated. No, nothing about any accident. The last thing she could remember was getting up this morning... This morning? 

Possibly. And getting ready for school. She was quite excited about it, she could remember that. It was her last day. Exams all finished and it was the last day of term. But then what? Nothing. 

She was beginning to feel a little frightened. Her brain wouldn't respond as she wanted it to. Her muscles ached and she couldn't move. Just how bad had her accident been? Oh my God! Was she paralysed? Was she disfigured? And why couldn't she remember anything? 

An indeterminable time later, the door swept open and a young man in a white coat breezed into the room with a hearty, "Good morning Jayne." 

Jayne felt his warm hand take a hold of her wrist while he looked at his watch. Then he took a pencil torch from his breast pocket and said, "Just going to do a few tests, then we'll talk, okay?" 

She smiled wanly and gave a small nod. The action cheered her. She could move her head. That had to be a good sign. 

After shining the torch into each of her eyes and getting her to look in several directions he hummed to himself. He ran the point of a pencil across the soles of her feet and nodded in satisfaction as her toes clenched involuntarily. 

All in all, the tests took about five minutes. He made some notes on the clipboard that hung at the bottom of the bed and then sat on the edge of it and looked at Jayne. 

"Well," he said, "I'm sure you've got lots of questions. Fire away and I'll answer as best I can." 

"What happened to me?" 

"You were in a motor accident I'm afraid. From the police report it looks like you were broad-sided by another vehicle." 

"How bad am I?" 

He smiled gently, "Well I have to admit it was touch and go for a while. But don't worry, you'll be fine. You suffered some fairly extensive trauma including quite a nasty head injury," he raised a calming hand, "Don't worry Jayne, all your test responses came up positive so it looks like there is no permanent damage. You'll be up and about again in no time. Trust me I'm a doctor." 

"How long have I been out?" 

"About two weeks." 

Thunderstruck! Two weeks! It must have been bad, no matter what the doctor said. She collected herself and whispered, "What do I look like?" She was dreading the answer. 

The doctor nodded to himself, it was a question he had been expecting, "Well, you did get a very nasty bump on the forehead and there is a scar, but it is tiny, barely noticeable in fact. In fact you're a very pretty young woman." 

Jayne felt herself flush slightly, young woman! She was just turned sixteen and he called her a pretty young woman. Another thought came to her, "Why can't I remember anything about the accident? 

"Ah. Yes, that's perfectly normal. Sometimes after the sort of trauma you received, the brain closes off unpleasant memories. Purely as a defence mechanism against shock, but no need to fear, the memories usually return over a couple of days." 

The doctor's brow wrinkled slightly, "Tell me, what's the very last thing you remember?" 

Jayne shut her eyes as she drew the memories to the front of her mind, "Well... I remember getting up and getting ready for school. It was the last day and I was waiting to hear my exam results." 

The doctor seemed troubled, "Jayne, how old are you?" 

"Silly question, I'm sixteen." 

She was grinning at him as she answered; of course she was sixteen. But something about his expression dulled her smile, "What?" she asked, "What is it?" 

He swallowed and answered, "Jayne... You're twenty-three years old." 

"WHAT?" 

"You're twenty-three years old." 

Jayne was in shock. Twenty-three! That couldn't be right! She could remember clearly getting up this morning. All right not this morning, but it felt like this morning and that was good enough for her. Brushing her hair, slipping into her uniform and filling her bag with books. 

She could remember leaving the house and waiting at the bus stop, getting on the bus and then... nothing. Nothing at all! And now this doctor was telling her she was twenty bloody three! She had lost seven years. This was terrible! She tried again. No, still nothing. She got on the bus woke up to see the nurse. Finally she spluttered, "But... but..." 

He laid a soothing hand on hers, "I know this has come of something of a shock to you but please don't get upset about. I've seen this many times before. As I told you, it's perfectly normal with the sort of injuries you received. Please try to understand, the memories will come back. I must admit that I am surprised at the amount of time you've lost, but please understand... The brain is a delicate instrument. In fact we still know very little about it. Normally the memory loss is concentrated in the region of time when the brain is endangered. While you were out, you were monitored constantly. We have scanned you with every means at our disposal. I can assure you that there is no permanent damage to your brain and your amnesia is purely a self imposed defence, "

He smiled gently, "They will come back." 

The doctor glanced at his watch, "Well, I have other patents to see. I'll pop in a bit later and see how you're getting on, okay? You have some visitors, do you want to see them?" "Who?" 

"Well, your mother and your h-" 

"Yes! I want my mum." 

He left the room and a few moments later, two people walked in. One was a man she didn't recognise, he was middle twenties with short dark hair. He had a fairly handsome face with dark brown eyes, an aquiline nose and a strong jaw line. But the effect was marred somewhat by his pinched expression and dark rings around his eyes. He never spoke, but merely stood by the foot of the bed looking at her. 

As she didn't know him, Jayne discounted him immediately and concentrated on the woman who had come in with him. It was her mother. She seemed older than Jayne remembered and she too had a tired air about her. An air of someone who had not been getting the required amount of sleep recently. 

Elsie took Jayne in her arms and wept, "Oh my baby." 

Jayne accepted the hug, she tried to hug her mother back, but her protesting arm muscles would only let her rest her hands lightly on Elsie's sides. 

The older woman held her daughter tight for some time, alternating between sobbing and laughing, before she finally disengaged and pulled back to look Jayne in the face. She studied Jayne's face for a moment before speaking, "Hello love. How are you feeling?" "I don't know... the doctor said... He told me..." 

"I know, I know. He told me outside. But that doesn't matter now. He said they'll come back and I'm sure he knows what he's talking about. The main thing is you're awake and you're going to be all right." She sniffed loudly before continuing, "Don't you ever scare me like that again!" 

Elsie broke down again and once more gathered Jayne into her arms. 

Jayne's eyes shifted to the other visitor. She felt unaccountably embarrassed by the close scrutiny of the young man with the sad face. He knew her, that was obvious. But who was he? A friend? A relative? Who? 

Elsie pulled away and stood up. She removed a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed her eyes and nose, "The doctor says you should be able to go home in a couple of days. They just want to run a few more tests he says. But he thinks you'll pull through fine." 

Something about what her mother had said registered, go home, that was it. It seemed a strange way to put it, didn't people say come home. Once more, her eyes drifted back to the man, "I'm sorry but, who are you?" she asked. "I'm Alan. I'm your husband." 

Jayne found herself unable to speak. Married? She hadn't even thought of that, as far as she was concerned she was still sixteen. Not a married woman of twenty-three. Her expression wavered from surprise to shock and back again as she stared at him. 

His eyes never left her as he murmured, "I've missed you Love." 

And still Jayne couldn't speak, couldn't move. Here was a man she didn't even know telling her that she was his wife! It must be a joke, it couldn't be real. If he was her husband then she must be able to remember something about him. She tried, desperately she sifted through her memories for something, some little clue that he was telling her the truth. But she could remember nothing and she was having trouble believing his words. 

The part of her brain that carried out rational and logical thought processes screamed at her. "Think Woman!" they shouted, "Of course he's not lying. If he was then your mum would have said something. What's she doing Jayne?" A quick glance at her mother showed Elsie, still stood at the side of the bed, still sniffling and still looking at her daughter with a worried expression. And Jayne knew her logical brain was right, even if her emotional centres cried out in disbelief. 

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered, "I'm sorry... I don't know you at all." 

Alan gave a sharp inward breath, but there was no other clue as to how much Jayne's response had cut him. 

He walked around to the other side of the bed and said, "Don't worry Love, the doctor told us about it. I know you'll remember me again. I know it." As he spoke he had reached out to take her hand, but she had pulled away slightly. 

Embarrassed he allowed his own hand to fall back and hang limply at his side, "I know it," he said again. 

Before either could speak further, the nurse came back in with a cheery, "Come on now. Visiting time's over. You can come back tomorrow." She shepherded the two visitors from the room and then returned to Jayne's bedside. 

"Are you okay Darling?" she asked. 

Jayne, suddenly very tired sagged on the mattress and said, "I wish I knew." 

The nurse patted her hand and replied, "It'll be fine. You'll see," and then she left Jayne alone with her thoughts. 

Jayne felt terrible. Alan was her husband and she didn't know him. She had even been uncomfortable with the thought of him just touching her hand. She knew that must have hurt him, but she just hadn't been able to help herself. 

Eventually, left to her thoughts, she drifted into a fitful and troubled sleep. 

The next two days followed the same routine. Tests, tests and more tests. One by one the machines were disconnected and pipes removed. Elsie and Alan came to see her with small talk and chatter. 

On the second day, Jayne had allowed Alan to kiss her cheek when he left. His lips felt nice on her skin, but she was still uncomfortable about intimacy with him. She was as nervous as a virgin on her first real date whenever he came too close. 

+++++++++++++++++++ 

The doctor announced she was fit to return home. It had only been Alan who came that day to collect her. He gathered up her belongings and helped her to the car for the short journey home. 

They arrived at a small house in the small village of King's Burton, just south of Wensbury. 

She exited the car and just stood looking at the house. It was a normal looking two bedroomed house, with a mahogany coloured door and a large brass knocker shaped like a lion's head holding a ring. The roof was slated with the local blue stone and the exterior woodwork was picked out in a dark shade of blue. There was a small garden surrounded by a pygmy hedge and a circular bed in the middle of the grass with a single rose bush. It was currently little more than a stick in the ground due to seasonal pruning, but she knew it was a rose bush. 

Alan watched her carefully as she studied the house, "Anything?" he asked. Jayne shook her head regretfully. Without any more words, They entered the front door. 

Whilst Alan carried her suitcase upstairs to the main bedroom, Jayne looked around the living room. Carefully matching furniture and upholstery was complemented by two or three watercolour prints that hung on the walls. It had a real coal fire set in a brick mantle and the various tools to start a fire were set to one side. The far corner held a German style cupboard unit with shelves that supported variously a television, video player and several video films. 

Alan entered the room and again said nothing as she examined her surroundings. Jayne didn't wait for him to ask and shook her head once more. Then she sat down heavily on the sofa and put her head in her hands. 

Nervously, Alan sat down next to her, put his arm around her shoulder and murmured, "Just give it time Jay." 

Jayne jerked upright, "What did you call me?" "Jay," he replied. 

She knew that name. No-one called her anything but Jayne or Jaynie (when she was a little girl) except for one person. But that was all she could remember, one person had been allowed to shorten her name and it was... Alan. It must have been. 

Jayne started to cry, it was not much but it was a start. 

She turned toward him slightly and said, "Jay... You call me Jay, no-one else does, but you do," she reached out and pulled him close for a hug, "I remember you call me Jay." 

Jayne felt his arms slide around her torso to return the hug. He buried his face into her shoulder and whispered, "It's enough. For now it's enough." 

After a few minutes, Jayne began to feel a little uncomfortable. She knew that she was familiar with Alan. Well, she was his wife for crying out loud. But she still felt uncomfortable hugging him like this. She disengaged from him and with forced cheerfulness said, "I'm parched. I could murder a cuppa." 

He grinned in reply and said, "No problems." As he stood up, Jayne said without thinking, "milk and two sugars." 

His grin took on a more sombre tone as he replied, "I know." 

Later that evening Alan dug out a photograph album with the words 'Our Wedding' picked out in gold leaf on the cover. 

He said, "The doc told me that I should show you things from our time together. He said you never know what might jog your memory so if it's alright with you, we can start now." 

Jayne nodded her assent and they sat together on the sofa with the album open on their laps. "This is us in front of the Church... This is the cutting of the cake... and this is your Maid of Honour, Gena," he paused, "Anything?" 

Jayne studied each of the photographs carefully. Well she was Mrs. Jayne Clarke... Evans. That much was obvious. After all, here was the photographic evidence. She could see herself in a beautifully embroidered ivory wedding gown smiling at the camera with Alan stood next to her, also smiling in his traditional morning suit. There was her mum in a pastel blue dress and wide-brimmed hat. And there was Gena... whoever she was. 

Together, they looked through all of the albums, but nothing leapt out at her. Jayne pinched her nose between her fingers, "I'm sorry," she yawned, "I'm very tired." 

Alan reddened, "Of course you are, I should have thought. Come on I'll show you our room." He led her upstairs to the main bedroom. It was dominated by a huge double bed and the far side had a mahogany wardrobe unit with a built in dressing table. A full-length mirror was screwed to the wall opposite. 

Alan opened the left hand cupboard and said, "Your clothes are in this side and your nightie's under your pillow. I'm just going to rinse the tea stuff then I'll be up, okay?" 

Jayne listened to his footsteps going down the stairs as she removed her clothing. She reached under the pillow and found her nightie. It was sheer, almost see through and it may as well have been a paper tissue for the amount of body it would cover. She was quite surprised that she would wear such a thing. 

On a whim, Jayne decided to have a look at herself in the mirror. She wanted to see what she looked like properly and had been unable to do so at the hospital. 

The reflection in the mirror was of a woman with brunette hair, about shoulder length with a natural curl to it hat framed a heart shaped face. Her complexion was smooth and almost milky white. Dark thin eyebrows arched over two deep brown eyes. A closer examination of her left showed a scar about half an inch long just below the brow hair. Jayne was satisfied about that, the doctor had said it was barely noticeable and he was right. She straightened up and continued her self scrutiny. Her nose, although no button was not overly large and her lips were a ruby red colour and thickly sensuous. 

Her eyes travelled further down and she looked at her breasts. They were large and heavy, but still firm and shapely, tipped with dark nipples. Stomach flat. There was a triangle of thick, dark pubic hair growing at the base of her belly. Her waist flared out into broad and womanly hips and legs that were shapely and smooth all the way to her feet. She liked what she saw. Not the self image she remembered at all of a sixteen year old girl still waiting to flower into the full bloom of womanhood. This was the flower itself. 

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of Alan coming back up the stairs. Quickly she threw the nightie on and slid under the duvet, pulling it up to her shoulders as the door opened. Alan walked in and started removing his shirt as he walked round to his own side of the bed. 

Another thought occurred to Jayne. She hadn't thought of this. They were married, and they slept together. What if he wanted sex? She couldn't, she didn't know him, it wouldn't feel right. 

She watched, fascinated as he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal a well muscled and toned upper body. Not a huge mass of muscle like a steroid ridden body builder, but very masculine and a very pleasing view. He struggled out of his trousers and dropped them on the floor next to the bed. Clad only in his boxer shorts, he too slid under the duvet. 

He reached out to touch Jayne's shoulder and said, "Sleep tight." 

As his fingers brushed her skin, he felt her tense up. Alan sat up, "What's the matter?" 

Jayne gave him a nervous smile, "I'm sorry, its... its just..." 

Alan slapped his forehead, "Of course! I'm sorry, it's just so natural for me I didn't think about it," he made to get out, "If you'd be more comfortable, I'll sleep in the spare room tonight." 

Jayne considered his proposal briefly, but one look at his face told her he really wanted to stay with her. "No," she thought to herself. 

She didn't think it fair on him. After all this was his bed as well as hers, at the moment more his actually considering that she couldn't recall seeing it before. On top of that, he was her husband and the man who loved her even though he was a complete stranger. And truth be told, she really didn't want to be on her own anyway. 




Sweet Memories



She reached up and stroked his jaw, "No," she whispered, "stay with me."

Jayne started to cry, "hold me." 

Alan lay down again and gathered his wife in his arms, whispering soothing words as she wept. 

"What if I never remember? What if the years don't come back? What if I've lost my memories for good?" 

"Then we'll have to make some new ones, won't we." 

Jayne was not comforted. Yes she felt safe and secure in the arms of this gentle man, but she didn't love him. How could she when she didn't even know who he was? That he loved her was not in question. But what if she never came to love him? What then? Even though she knew that Alan had told her nothing but the truth about their time together and she had seen the wedding photos with her own eyes, it all felt so unreal, like a dream. Here she was lying in bed with a man she didn't know wearing a very sexy nightdress. And it all felt wrong. No, not wrong, it didn't feel wrong, it just felt odd. He had said that they would make new memories. But would that be enough? It took Jayne a long time to fall asleep that night. 

When she woke up in the morning, she could feel something warm on her chest. She looked down and saw that Alan was sprawled with one leg hanging off the bed and his hand gently cupping her breast. He had kicked his duvet off in the night. She gazed at his sleeping face as he snored gently. His face looked innocent in sleep, like a small boy. But that contrasted sharply with the fit hard body he had. Jayne let her eyes wander across his bunched shoulder, down his back. His spine was a narrow indent that ran the length of his upper body, bisecting triangular pectorals and a slim waist. Down, over his firm buttocks, encased in his boxer shorts along his legs to his feet. She started to feel warmth growing in her chest and not just from the heat from his gently cupping hand. 

Jayne knew what the feeling was, she was getting turned on. The feel of his strong yet tender hand along with the beautiful view he was presenting was turning her on. 

Her nipples started to harden and she could feel an itch building between her thighs. She giggled to herself as the feelings started to grow, she felt like a virgin. Rationally she knew she probably wasn't anymore. But that didn't change her emotional thoughts. 

It was like she was seeing her first view of a naked man, the first time she felt a strong hand touch one of her illicit places. The first time she looked up into the face of a man above her as she lay with spread legs awaiting the intruder that would change her from a girl into a woman. 

She was bracing herself to reach out and stroke his shoulder when she felt him stir. He mumbled, sighed and drew his hand from her breast to rub his face. 

As the warmth left her breast, her courage failed. She had wanted to touch him then same way he had inadvertently touched her, but her cowardly hand retreated back under her duvet. He smiled blearily at her, "Morning Jay, sleep well?" 

Jayne forced a smile, "Like a log." 

Alan planted a quick kiss on her cheek, rolled out of bed and said, "You shower first, I'll put the kettle on." To which she agreed. After Alan went downstairs, Jayne continued to lie in the bed a while longer staring at the ceiling. She was cursing herself for all kinds of cowardice. She had wanted to touch him, nothing more and had been unable. 

"Idiot!" she snarled to herself, "What you think? He'd bite you?" 

After laying there for some time, she decided to bite the bullet and get showered, she stood up and removed her nightgown just as Alan came back in, "You're taking your time, have you fallen back to sl-", he stopped where he stood in the doorway carrying two steaming mugs of tea and stared at her. 

Jayne gave a small squeak and tried to cover herself against his gaze. Embarrassed and angry she shouted, "What are you staring at?" Alan's mouth worked once or twice before he said, "I'm sorry. It's just every time I see you I wonder what you ever saw in me. You're just so damned gorgeous." 

Jayne pulled the duvet off the bed and hastily covered herself, "Don't stare at me I don't like it!" He reddened, muttered an apology and hastily went back downstairs. 

Alan sat in the kitchen on a high-backed stool and stared into space, absently sipping at his tea. He could hear Jayne upstairs bustling about. He heard the shower turn on and then a few minutes later turn off again. And then he heard a muffled shout. 

"WHAT?" he answered. 

"I SAID WHERE DO WE KEEP THE TOWELS?"

He went back upstairs, pulled a towel from the airing cupboard and passed it round the partially open bathroom door, "Here you are," he said. 

A wet hand took it and he heard a muffled, "Thanks," before retiring back downstairs again. 

A few minutes later Jayne came into the kitchen, she was wearing a light flowery dress she had found in her wardrobe. She looked ill at ease, "Alan..." 

"What?" 

"I wanted to say sorry." 

Puzzled he responded, "Sorry? What for?" 

"For shouting at you, when you... You know... saw me." 

He waved a deprecating hand, "Oh, don't worry about that. It was my fault, I should have knocked." 

"In your own house? To see your own wife? No, you shouldn't Alan. This is difficult for me, I don't know you from Adam and I was embarrassed when you saw me like that. But I shouldn't have shouted. It's difficult for me, but I know it must be hard for you too." 

Alan remained silent for a moment and then replied, "I understand, I really do. And you're right, it is a bit difficult. I have five years of memories of you, three as your husband and I forgot that you don't have them any more." 

He was right. She had no memory meeting him, no memory of falling in love with him, no memory of losing her virginity to him and no memory of their life together so far. She had nothing and she hated it. 

"Alan, I may not have any memories of us, but I do know that my mum never raised an idiot. If I fell for you, then there must have been some damn good reasons. I know two things about you Alan Evans. That you must be a good man or I wouldn't be here now, and that you must love me, or you wouldn't be here now. I'm willing to give it a go. I'm willing to try make some more memories of us." 

++++++++++++++++++++ 

The next day Alan got up first. She found that he usually did on workdays and woke her with a mug of hot tea. Then he went to work. Jayne discovered that he had labelled all the cupboards and drawers with post-it notes, so that she knew where to find things until she knew her way around. 

It was thoughtful and she was touched by the gesture. 

Then she would potter about the house. Generally finding her feet and trying to remember who she was. That was something she hated. What did she like doing? What were her hobbies? Did she actually have a hobby? She knew that there must have been more to her life than doing housework. 

She wandered into the back garden and took a look in the shed. It was filled with photographic equipment almost like a professional studio with one corner curtained off with heavy black suede to use as a dark room. There was a shelf by the door that was filled with portfolios. She flicked through one of them. 

It was filled with pictures of all kinds, portrait shots, landscapes and action shots. Jayne placed the album back on the shelf and continued around the small room. The equipment meant nothing to her, it all looked extremely technical. Maybe Alan was a keen snapper. And then she came to a small framed certificate, it read '1999 Sunday Times Amateur Photography Competition Winner. For the best Country Landscape presented to Mrs J Evans'. 

Alan wasn't the photographer, she was! Jayne was shocked. "I knew how to use all this stuff?" On a low table she saw another small photograph album and on a whim she opened it. It was not filled with landscapes. 

The first picture was of Alan in the bathroom, he was wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and his laughing face was covered in shaving foam. She turned over, it was Alan again, still with the shaving foam but now he was walking towards the camera with his arms raised over his head, his fingers spread wide. 

Intrigued, Jayne continued to look through the photographs. They were all similar to the first few until she reached the last third of the book. The first was their empty bedroom. The camera must have been placed on a tripod and raised so it was looking diagonally down over the bed. The next showed Alan laying down on the bed, he was naked. The next was of both of them. Alan was lying in the same place, but this time she herself was in the picture, she was giggling as she knelt next to him on the bed and had a firm grasp of his hard penis. Jayne studied the picture carefully, "My God!" she thought, "It's huge!" 

She could feel her nipples hardening as she looked through the rest of the pictures, each one raunchier and more intimate than the one before. The last shot showed her astride Alan with his hard prick jammed right up her pussy. The expression on her face was of intense joy. Slowly her hand slipped down to her crotch, she could feel a burning heat coming from her pussy, she bunched her dress up and slid her hand inside her knickers, she was soaking. 

Gently, she started to rub her moist opening as she continued to look at herself in the picture. Was it really that good? Is that what she looked like when she came? Her nipples were painfully hard and she suppressed a shudder as her middle finger brushed across the top of her swollen clitoris. Jayne's lips pressed together with a snap. The sensations coming from her cunt were unreal, the heat, the wetness, the waves of pleasure that were growing in her womb. She discovered that small circles round and round her throbbing nubbin produced such sensations as she was almost unable to believe. 

Jayne dropped the book of photographs and her now free hand came up to roughly massage her tit through the material of her dress. Her breath started to come in ragged sobs as wonderful feelings began to fill her. She twisted and pulled at her aching nipples, one after the other and back again as her boiling pussy foamed. Instinctively, Jayne thrust her middle finger right into her pussy hole, so that the pad on her palm was pressed against her clit. In and out she thrust her finger. 

Faster and faster... and an image filled her mind, she was lying down with Alan poised above her and the intruder in her hot twat was not her own finger, but his big, hard cock. And she knew it was no vision, it was a memory. 

Instantly, a shuddering wave of heat burst from her womb and filled her belly and then exploded in a fire that seemed to fill her whole body. 

Gasping for breath, Jayne had to grab the table to steady herself before she fell to the floor. She stood still, leaning against the table, slowly regaining control of herself and calming her breathing from gasping sobs to rhythmic deep breaths. Almost regretfully, Jayne pulled her soaked hand from her cunt and allowed her dress to fall back down, covering her properly. "Oh wow!" was all she could say, "Oh wow!" 

Jayne now started to feel a need. A real need to make love with Alan. She could feel a yearning for him to take her in his arms. She picked up the album from the floor and looked at the last picture again. She had just had a wonderful orgasm, she knew, but judging by look on her own face in the picture, it had been nothing to what it could be. 

++++++++++++++++++++ 

When Alan got home, it was about six o'clock in the evening. Jayne had cooked him a meal. She thought it bizarre that she needed a recipe to create sausages and mash. But she had, and she wasn't sure she had got it right when she watched Alan doggedly chewing on a sausage. "Is it okay?" she asked. "Lovely," he replied. 

Jayne giggled, "Then you should sue your face for slander. Admit it, it's horrible." 

Alan grinned, "Well you never claimed to be a good cook." 

He placed his knife and fork on the plate with some relief and asked, "So how was your day?" "I explored. I'm a photographer." 

He watched her face, "Did you remember that?" Jayne smiled a little sadly, "No, I found my studio. But I did remember something." His eyebrows lifted, "Really, what?" 

Suddenly Jayne was embarrassed. How could she tell him that she had frigged herself off to some photographs of them together and remembered taking him inside herself. She blushed bright red, "Well... I..." 

Somewhat impatiently Alan said, "Come on, tell me." 

Jayne's courage failed her, "No, it was a mistake. I thought I did, but it was a mistake." 

Alan reached across to take her hand, "Never mind Jay. They'll come. And if they don't, we've got years and years to make new ones." 

Jayne hated herself at that moment. She desperately wanted to take her husband in her arms and kiss him, and stroke him and take him in her body and love him. Although she had no conscious memory of their years together, it was obvious to her that her body did. In fact she could feel her pussy moistening as she sat there. 

But her rational mind kept applying the brakes against all of her womanly impulses. 

"You can't," it said, "You don't really know him," and, "You're not that kind of girl!" She raged back in her mind, "But I'm not a girl! I'm a woman and he's my husband!" "But do you really know that?" 

"Of course, I've seen the pictures and I did remember. I did!" 

"Then why couldn't you tell him? Well? Why?" "I... don't know. I was embarrassed." 

"You were embarrassed to tell him that you remembered having sex with him? You want to grab him now and do it, but you were embarrassed to talk about it? Oh come on! You aren't ready yet and you know it." 

Jayne was screaming inside, "But I want to!" "Sorry kiddo, not yet," the voice softened slightly, "You will... but not yet." 

Jayne knew that her voice was telling the truth. If she was ready then the voice would not have been there, but the frustration of it all made her burst into tears. 

Alan, unaware of the turmoil his wife was going through leaped up and rushed round the table to hug her. His voice full of concern he asked, "Jay, what's up? What's happened?" 

She felt his arms encircle her and her body shivered in automatic anticipation. That made her even more miserable. She struggled free of his embrace and shouted, "LEAVE ME ALONE!" before storming up to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. 

Alarmed and hurt by Jayne's reaction, Alan quickly followed her upstairs. He pushed into the bedroom and found her sat on the bed sobbing. Alan sat down beside her and tried to put his arm round her, but she shrugged him off. 

"Leave me alone." 

"Just tell me what's the matter. Was it the sausages? I'll eat them if you want. They weren't that bad." 

Even in her misery Jayne was forced to laugh, "No," she mumbled, "It's not the sausages." 

"Then what? Tell me." 

"I can't." 

Alan was a little angry now, "Why? Don't you trust me? You think I'm going to laugh at you or something? God Dammit Jayne! I'm your fucking husband! If you can't trust me then who can you trust?" 

He took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to swear at you. It's just... I feel so helpless. You can't remember anything about me and you are hurting, I know that. I just want to help. I want my Jay back." 

Tears came unbidden to his eyes, "I'm your husband. It's my job to look after you, to protect you, and look what happened. Some bastard nearly killed you and I wasn't even there. And now I don't know if I'll ever get you back." 

He collapsed onto the bed sobbing openly, "I wasn't there for you." 

Now it was Jayne's turn to comfort him, "Alan, it wasn't your fault. You mustn't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault." 

She tried to comfort him, "You mustn't feel guilty about the accident. These things happen. And it was nothing you did that upset me. Alan... Alan, look at me." 

Slowly he raised his eyes to hers. Jayne gently massaged his shoulder as she spoke, "It's nothing you did. Believe me. And it's nothing about what I thought you might do. It's me. I am trying Alan, I hope you know that, but it's just so hard. I want to be your wife again. I've only known you for a few hours, but I can see the man you are." 

Tears began to flow, "And I can see exactly why I picked you in the first place. It's just... I need time. I know we'll be happy again. I know it. I just need a little time. Can you give me time Alan?" 

No further words were said. The young couple embraced firmly and held each other. 

++++++++++++++++++++ 

The routine was set. Alan went to work. Jayne spent the day either on housework or in her studio. She was teaching herself to use the camera equipment again. She tried simple shots in the garden of flowers. She tried setting up little scenarios in the studio, arrangements of pots and potted plants. One afternoon Elsie came to see how the they were doing and was press-ganged into a portrait shot. Their evenings were spent talking about the usual trivia that fills every marriage as well as the important things. 

And twice a week, they attended the local gymnasium for a workout. Though it must be said that while Alan worked hard on his physical fitness, Jayne spent most of her session time in the coffee shop. 

One afternoon, Jayne decided to have a look at all her work. Once developed and dry, she laid out a selection of her pictures on the kitchen table and studied them. 

"Damn," she murmured, "I am good." 

As she pored over the prints her eye was drawn to a photo she had taken of one of the wild flowers that grew through the fence near the bottom of the garden. It was a weed. A simple Dog Daisy. But there was something about the picture that drew her. 

She stared hard at it. What was it about that one picture? 

The voice in her head spoke, "You know what this picture means don't you?" 

"No. But there's something about it." 

"Yes you do. You know exactly what this picture means." 

"I DON'T!" 

"Jay, I'm on your side. Trust me. You do know what this picture means. It reminds you of something doesn't it." 

"No... Yes. But I don't know what."

"Jayne, I know we haven't been seeing eye to eye recently. But I had to stop you. I wish you would understand that. You just weren't ready. But I think you may be now. All you have to do is remember" 

"I CAN'T. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" 

"Relax and remember." 

Jayne stared even harder at the photograph. A key turned. A small door cracked open and a ray of light escaped. There was a creak and then the door flew wide open with a crash... And a vivid memory returned. 

It was Alan. 

He was holding a Dog Daisy and he gave it to her. She remembered thinking what a soppy fool he was and telling him so, but he had merely grinned that grin of his and told her to smell it. Laughing, she brought it to her nose and noticing a glint of something shiny hidden in the bloom. It was a ring. 

Jayne looked down at her left hand. It was her engagement ring. 

Alan fell to one knee in her mind and said, "Marry me." 

Jayne was stood in a church. She was wearing an ivory gown and Alan was stood beside her. She could hear his voice reciting his vows. She was kneeling in the front garden of their new house planting a small rose bush in the circular bed she had just cut, while Alan was painting the exterior woodwork blue. The blue she had chosen. She remembered that he wanted British Racing Green, and that had been their first argument as man and wife. 

Jayne was naked on their marital bed. Laying on her back ready to receive her Alan into herself. 

"I love you so much." 

"And I love you." 

++++++++++++++++++++ 

When Alan returned home that evening, the downstairs was dark and quiet. He could hear Jayne bustling about in the bedroom. He walked upstairs, opened the door to their room and saw Jayne looking at herself in the mirror as she stood naked. 




Sweet Memories



"Sorry," he said and made to leave. 

Jayne turned to him and replied, "No. Come in. I don't mind, I want you to look at me." 

Nonplussed and blushing, he complied. 

"You see," she continued, "I had a revelation today. I finally remembered something." "Well that's great! What?" 

"How much I love you." 

She reached out to him and whispered, "Love me." 

In a bound, Alan crossed the room and took his gorgeous, naked wife in his arms. He plastered his lips against hers, his tongue slid between her lips and for the first time in weeks for Alan, but years for Jayne, they kissed the passionate kiss of lovers. 

Alan's hands roamed all over Jayne's body as though he was trying to cover every square inch before the dream broke and he woke up. But it was no dream. It was real, he had his wife in his arms again. 

He gently nudged her backwards until her calves bumped against the bed making her fall backwards. She landed and spread her legs wide, presenting her gaping slit to his view. One hand reached up and massaged her breast whilst the other slid between her thighs. She turned her lust filled eyes up to him and said, "Clothes off Mister and love me now!" 

In seconds, Alan had torn off his clothes to stand naked before his wife. His cock was beginning to harden as his body prepared itself for the imminent action. But he wanted this to last. He wasn't going to just leap on and fuck her like he wanted to. He wanted to savour this, after all, he had been looking forward to it so very much. 

Alan dropped to his knees and gathered up Jayne's foot. He planted delicate kisses all over it, slowly moving his lips and tongue up the bridge and onto her ankle. Gently he kissed and nibbled up her leg to her knee. 

Jayne was loving it. His gentle ministrations were filling her senses. She wallowed in the feelings he was giving her. She felt his tongue slide up her thigh towards her aching pussy, but to her surprise and chagrin, he avoided it. 

She moaned in slight irritation, but that was soon replaced by a moan of another kind when she felt him slide quickly up her body and lash at her nipple. Her eyes closed and she wrapped her arms around his head as he sucked and nibbled at her hard, bullet nipple. First one and then the other. And while he did so, she felt his hand slipping slowly back down her body to the V of her soaking slit. His fingers touched her so lightly at first that she really wasn't sure if he had touched her at all, but that soon passed. 

As his fingers began to work on her puffy lips more firmly and brush against her engorged clit, she pulled his mouth from her tit and dragged it up for a savage kiss. She groaned with pleasure as his fingers played their delicate music on her womanhood and she forced her tongue inside his mouth. Jayne's legs spread wide and she used one hand to push his even more firmly against her burning hot clit. The heat in her womb was driving her wild as each stroke brought further waves of pleasure. Unable to take any more, she pushed his hand away and almost screamed at him, "Now! Fuck me!" 

Alan too was unable too contain himself any further. He had wanted to make this last, but animal passion had long since taken over. He dragged Jayne onto all fours and knelt behind her. The tip of his rigid cock poised at her liquid entrance. She looked back over her shoulder and screamed again, "Do it! Fuck me you bastard!" 

He nudged forward and felt her lips open slightly as the head of his cock pressed inside. Then with an animal roar Alan thrust all his seven and a half inches right up Jayne's cunt. 

The air was pressed out of her as she felt his vicious assault on her pussy. She gasped as the lower side of his rigid man-meat rasped against her clit and he filled her completely. 

The fire in her pussy burned even brighter as Alan began to thrust in earnest. He grabbed her hips and with each forward stroke of his own pulled her hard back towards him. Their pubic bones repeatedly slammed together with a slapping sound. Jayne's face was screwed up in ecstasy each time her husband mashed her clit and thrust his huge dagger deep inside her, she could feel the fire building even more. The waves were coming thick and fast inside her now, as Alan very near to release began to pump his prick into her even harder and even faster.

He was moaning with every stroke and Jayne was growling deep in her throat. Her orgasm was approaching, she could feel it. The waves were coming so fast from her liquid centre that she could no longer distinguish between them until finally, she exploded. The fire filled her body. Alan could no longer contain himself. His balls tensed and with a mighty roar he emptied his pearly come into Jayne's receptive cunt. He spasmed over and over again as his balls pumped their precious load up his aching cock.

When Jayne felt him explode inside her, another, even greater seizure took her body. The fire once red hot, was now white hot and washed through her. She screamed and screamed and screamed. 

Slowly the young couple regained control of their senses. The waves of bliss that each had imparted on the other began to die away. Then they uncoupled and lay down breathlessly next to each other. 

Jayne reached up and stoked Alan's cheek, "Now let me love you." 

Starting at the side of his neck, she traced a line with her tongue down his chest, down over his hard, flat stomach and into his bush of pubic hair. Gently, she teased at the strands and the sensitive skin underneath. His cock, although softening now started to throb again as blood was once more pumped inside it. As it grew firmer under her attention, she started to lick up and down the length. From the crown, tracing the pattern of veins that stood proud along its length down to his heavy balls. 

Carefully, Jayne sucked one of his balls into her mouth and suckled, letting her tongue wander all over it. Alan gave a sharp intake of breath at the feeling Jayne was producing. He closed his eyes as Jayne let his ball free with a plop before transferring her busy mouth back to the ramrod stiff man-flesh. She parted her lips and let his cock slide between them. She gripped the base of his prick in her hand and slowly began to work her head up and down. Alan groaned as her velvet lips slid back and forth. 

While Jayne was busily sucking his aching cock, he manoeuvred her body so that she was lying along his length and her pussy was positioned directly in front of his face. He parted her thighs and moved toward her cunt. Alan blew gently on her clit. The cool breeze made her moan and squirm, but still she worked his cock in and out of her moist lips, lashing his cock end with her tongue. 

Alan moved even closer to her bloated pussy lips and reached out with his tongue to make bold, strident strokes along their length. She shivered as the sensations hit her pleasure centre and she started working his hardness ever faster. She wanted his come. She needed his come. Jayne wanted to swallow every last pearly drop. She was finding it difficult to concentrate though, especially when Alan's searching tongue found her bloated clitoris and began a slow, rhythmic lapping. 

She could feel the waves beginning in her womb again as Alan continued his work. The heat was rising once more, even quicker than the first time. Se had wanted to finish him with her mouth, but that was no longer possible, her head began to shake from side to side as she once more, started to lose control. 

Reluctantly, Jayne released Alan's cock from the moist velvet prison of her mouth and a keening howl grew from between her clenched teeth. But Alan was relentless in his attack, neither speeding up, nor slowing down, he kept the same languid pace. Jayne's pelvis began to buck against Alan's face and he was forced to take a firm grip on her thighs to keep her still. And he continued to work the point of his tongue against the hard nubbin that was giving her so much pleasure. 

She was close, but she didn't want to come on his face. She wanted his huge, meaty cock inside her. Jayne broke free from his grasp, ignoring the complaints from her boiling pussy hole. Roughly, she pushed him onto his back and threw her leg across his body. Taking a hold at the base of his bloated cock, Jayne slowly lowered her sopping cunt straight down so that he filled her once again.

She placed her hands on Alan's chest to steady herself and then slowly, oh so slowly raised up and pushed back down. Alan was in Heaven as his meat was trapped by Jayne's sugar walls.

Moist juices were almost flowing from their connection as Jayne moved languidly up and down. Alan reached up and took hold of her breasts as she worked. Kneading the heavy flesh and gently pinching her crinkly, engorged nipples. He could feel his come rising again and was amazed hat it was happening so rapidly after his first explosive come. He could feel the familiar twitching in his balls.

Jayne started to move a little faster now. A light sheen of sweat covered her body and her hair was plastered to her head. Eyes closed, she was concentrating purely on the sensations of her well-filled pussy, each stroke sent her nearer and nearer to the sexual delirium she craved. 

She desperately wanted to control it this time, to make the feelings last as long as possible, but the beast within would not allow that. Almost against her will, she started moving faster up and down the gorgeous cock that filled her belly. Faster and faster she bounced giving a little scream of joy each time she came down against Alan's groin. The fires within her were burning again and the rays of delight were once more making their way from her soaking cunt. 

Faster and faster. Harder and harder. Alan gave a little cry and once more filled his wife's red hot cunt with his cream. And once again, as Jayne felt him ejaculate it set her off into sexual paradise once more. The explosion in her belly filled her being and she screamed at the top of her voice, before collapsing, sated and exhausted on to her husband's chest. 

Slowly they came down together once more from the heights of passion and held each other, content to wallow in post coital warmth. 

Jayne slid from Alan's softening prick and shimmied to one side so they could lay together and just hold each other tight. 

She murmured, "I can't remember much. But I can remember enough. I don't know if the rest will come back, but you know what?" 

"What?" 

"I don't care. I've got the rest of my life to build more memories with you."



Sweet Memories of Bitter Treat



Do comply with the law. If your government, in its wisdom, prohibits you from reading this, then do not read it. 

My advice to you is that you should not read this. It contains graphic portrayals of bad things that people shouldn't do. 

(WS, Fdom Msub, and I just realized there's no sex) 

*

It was just one of the succession of things my Mistress has tried out in my submissive relationship with her. Everything else we've done was just playing the game properly, she treating me like her submissive for our mutual pleasure. For me, somehow, this was different, and it became my obsession. 

There was a precursor when we were showering together. Suddenly she grabbed my hand and held it between her legs, not touching her, just a few inches away. She squatted slightly and suddenly there was a rush of hot liquid running over my cupped palm. Afterward I made sure to discreetly soap and wash my hands before the shower ended. 

The first time it became one of our kinks, she had taken me out to a party wearing my studded dog collar. I'm as far away from punk as you can get, so from my viewpoint it was perfectly clear it was a slave collar, which meant everyone could see our secret. I didn't get much reaction, so it's entirely likely that few, if any, at the party knew she was doing it to embarrass me. But I was conscious of it, so despite no real reaction from the people at the party I was embarrassed, as she wished. As a result I drank a little too much. 

When we got home, she built up the embarrassment by making me kneel before her outside our front door. "You really have the taste of humiliation in your mouth now, don't you?" She asked, quietly but firmly. She wanted to drive her point home. "Are you enjoying being my little slave of passion?"

After a few minutes of verbal abuse, we went inside. She walked me by the hand into the bathroom and had me kneel before her while she sat on the toilet. She often required me to "be in attendance" to her when she did personal things, so this was not unusual. She told me to close my eyes and open my mouth, and then she put her finger in my mouth. "Suck," she said, so I did. After a moment she said, "open," and removed her finger. We'd done mouth play before, and I knew I was to leave my mouth open for whatever she wanted to put in next. She repeated this a few times, and I was starting to get turned on. There was a tinkling sound, then her finger re-entered my mouth and she rubber it in a few circles on my tongue. There was a slight taste, not too unpleasant. The tinkling continued while she did this. The finger was removed then returned, again rubbing on my tongue. A third time, more finger on my tongue, then she said, "suck my finger again." 

So I did. And while I sucked her finger, the tinkling ended. Suddenly I realized the tinkling was my mistress peeing, and it seemed likely the taste in my mouth must be her urine. 

"There," she said. "That should get the taste of wearing my collar to a party out of your mouth." 

I wondered how I was supposed to react. She made it clear, when we were starting out, she expects me to just stoically take what she gives me. But I've learned she enjoys the game more when I give her a reaction. I guess she thought it would taste awful, that I would really hate the experience. But the taste wasn't all that bad, right at the edge of being pleasant. I really didn't mind, and still another form of submission to her was still another turn-on for me. So, should I give her a reaction indicating I liked it, or that I didn't? I decided to give her a smile. 

Soon after she began telling me to licking her clean after she used the toilet. This became nearly a constant in our lives. Most memorably, with six guests in our home for a dinner party, she took me into the bathroom to perform this service just before she served. While the men didn't seem to notice, the women all raised their eyebrows, suspecting something interesting had just taken place. We weren't gone long enough even for a quickie, which added to the intrigue. I enjoyed the embarrassment, especially because there would have been a much stronger reaction had they known exactly what we had done for those few minutes. 

I got only the slightest taste of her urine during these times, so she pretty much tasted the same. 

A few months after we started, when Mistress got up one morning she called me into the bathroom as usual, but told me to pass the bathroom cup. She peed into the cup while I knelt before her, filling the cup about half-way then finishing into the toilet. She stood, and had me lick her clean as before. 

Then she handed me the cup. "You don't have to swallow," she told me. "Fill up your mouth and hold it in your mouth until I tell you." 

After an instant's hesitation, I obeyed. I was still on my knees before her, she stood between me and the toilet. The view before my eyes, beautifully framed by her silk robe, was the naked pussy from which this urine had just come. I filled my mouth with as much of the warm liquid as I could hold. Then I looked up at her and waited. It was probably just a minute, perhaps even less, but it did seem like a long time. Looking up like that, there was liquid trickling into my throat, and it took some effort not to swallow. Finally, she took the cup from me, stepped aside and said, "you may spit." I spit it out into the toilet. 

A new morning routine emerged for us, lasting several weeks. First thing in the morning, I would take her urine in my mouth and hold it. Sometimes she would tell me to gargle, other times she would leave me on my knees while she started getting ready for her day. I would kneel there, cup in hand and holding a mouthful of her urine, for five or ten minutes before she would tell me I could spit and dump the rest of the cup. 

I had been assuming all this time that urine was a bad thing to ingest, so I was enjoying the sense of risk along with the submission and humiliation. So I went online to find out how big the risk was, and of course I found information that told me that drinking urine was not considered dangerous, and in fact there are people who drink their own urine every morning because they believe it has health benefits. 

So one morning, when she handed me the cup, I took a sip and swallowed, took another sip. She watched in amazement as I drank down an entire cup of her morning urine. 

"Well," she said. "I can see I haven't been pushing you hard enough." So our routine shifted to my drinking her piss every morning. 

She started making me drink her urine at other times, especially if she had been drinking. At first it was just at home, late in the evening, while drinking wine and talking. Then, one night in a nightclub, she excused herself and went to the ladies' room. To my surprise she returned casually holding a glass in her hand. She handed it to me and told me to drink it down, and I did. 

The next time we were at a party. The house was crowded and we had been separated by the flow of socializing. Suddenly she reappeared by my side. She pressed a wine glass into my hand, it was still quite warm. "Drink," she said. So I did, while she smiled in approval. I doubt anyone there noticed the little transaction between us. 

I drank her urine from wine glasses, martini glasses, champagne glasses, highball glasses and little plastic cups in clubs, in restaurants, on an airplane, at a picnic and at a wedding reception. It was a thrill for me to perform, privately yet so publicly, this act of submission to my beloved mistress. 

One day Mistress was reading ancient Latin poetry and read a footnote that told her in the time of the Caesars some people used urine to brush their teeth. So, for a while, I brushed my teeth with a toothbrush dipped in fresh, warm urine. 

Her friends knew that I typically yielded to Mistress in all things. Most of my friends knew I was "pussy-whipped." But Mistress had not chosen to tell anyone, at least that I knew of, of how fully she dominated me. I chose not to tell my friends just how enthralled I was of her. Let them find their own perfect woman! 

Our secrecy changed one evening when she went out to the cinema with some friends, and on the spur of the moment they all came back to our place afterwards. I tried to stay unobtrusive, to leave the five women to do as they pleased unimpeded by a male presence. I opened a bottle of Merlot and a bottle of Riesling for them, took an ale for myself and went back to my book in the other room. I was vaguely aware of their voices, sometimes loud and excited and sometimes falling to a hush, punctuated by occasional one-syllable exclamations, the way a conversation ebbs and flows among a group of women who are close friends. 

Suddenly she called me to bring her a pilsner glass. I was surprised she would switch to beer, but of course I complied. Then she shocked me by telling me to kneel, right in front of her four friends, in the voice that said we were mistress and submissive. She hiked up her skirt, told me to pull down her panties, squatted a little and peed into the glass. 

"Clean me," she directed, and I complied. 

She put her finger in the urine and I opened my mouth without prompting. She rubbed her finger over my tongue, dipping several times into the glass as she worked. I sat there on my knees and let her, and let her friends watch. I sucked her finger clean when she indicated I should. 

Then she handed me the glass. 

The glass being narrow, the piss rose to an impressive height. It wasn't all that full, perhaps not even as much as I was used to seeing in the morning. 

But there were four women watching. 

I drank her urine in front of her friends. I didn't chug it down, I sipped it calmly. 

She dismissed me, and I rinsed the glass in the kitchen on my way out. My ears burned as I heard the group of women shift from rapt silence to everyone talking at once. I remember clearly hearing one voice above the others saying, "oh, yeah, my guy is going to do that." 

I knew that my position among her friends was forever changed. At the time I was certain many of her other friends would soon hear, and perhaps, through them, some of my friends and I would be undone. In truth, I never heard anything back referring to the event, so perhaps her closest friends are more discreet than I credit them. 

The event seemed to open my mistress' range with watersports. A few times a week, she gave me a golden shower, peeing on my face as I knelt before her in the bath. For my part, I enjoyed having my face covered by her pee as I tried to get at least some of it into my mouth. She soon developed the idea of covering my face with urine, then making me sit, waiting for permission to clean myself up until she was done showering. 

A few times, when she was going to leave me home alone, she would take a cotton swab and carefully paint a urine mustache under my nose. The aroma would evolve over time, from innocuous at the beginning, through a peak of sweetness before it faded. Because the urine dried on my lip, there was little ammonia. 

Nearly every time we went to a party, I could rely on her to bring me a glass to drink from. I would even encourage her to drink a glass of water before we would depart. I was both bolder and more self-conscious now, knowing that the people we were about to spent time with might have heard about this little detail in our relationship. There was always a little thrill of embarrassment when I drank from her glass. But I did not let myself look around while I drank, figuring that I would only call attention to myself. Her purpose was to demonstrate her mastery over me, my purpose was to show her how fully enthralled I was to her, and we both got what we wanted. 

At a restaurant, she went to the ladies' room as soon as we were seated, and made me keep the glass of urine on the table beside my wine glass and water glass, sipping from it on command all through the meal. Finally, I discovered how urine could be unpleasant. At one hour old, the urine had an awful odor and flavor. So I tossed back the last of it and casually asked her if she wanted to order a refill for me, but she declined. 

Once she crushed ice in a tumbler and filled it, giving me "iced pee" to drink. I did not like it as much cold. Even thought it was quite fresh, somehow it was much less pleasant. 

While I didn't tell her how much I liked the flavor of her pee, I'm sure my enthusiasm for this kink in our relationship showed her I found it better than just bearable. What I enjoyed initially was the amazing variety of flavors. Saltiness and sweetness came and went with what she'd been eating and drinking, the acid mouth-feel varied greatly and a million other flavor notes that I couldn't begin to describe. Tasting her urine was like tasting wine, something different every time you took another glass. 

Over time I became more aware of the aftertaste. I suppose, like wine, I developed a more educated palate. The aftertaste has several elements. The flavor lingers, reminding you of what you've allowed into your mouth. I could often feel a texture down my throat, lasting for some time after I swallowed. I might well be imagining this, or it could be an upset, but after drinking down a whole glass of her fresh urine, I swear there is a special warm feeling in my stomach as well. Every once in a while, perhaps eating soup, I experience for just an instant a little flash memory of how that aftertaste felt. 

The aftertaste lasts for a long time, hours even. Once, in an evening out on the town, I drank her pee in a nightclub, then later I drank her pee again just before we went to bed. I woke up in the morning, just slightly hung over and savoring the aftertaste which still remained in my mouth. 

The next stage in this facet of our relationship came when I went on a series of short business trips. I realized I missed the opportunity to drink her morning urine, and she realized that she could only dominate me with her pee when I was sleeping with her. So she announced to me that, every time I went to the toilet, I was to dip my finger in the stream and rub it on my tongue as she had when we started, repeating twice. This applied no matter where I was, at home, executive washroom in the office, public restroom, customer's office, or airplane. She took me to the bathroom right then, requiring me to demonstrate my understanding of her instructions. 

Every time I went to the bathroom, I had to plan ahead so I would have the privacy needed to follow my mistress' instructions. I sat down to pee a lot more often, so I could be behind a stall door. Once in a bar, the stall had someone in it so I stood at the urinal, dipping in two fingers in rapid succession and reaching for my mouth, trying to get in as many dips as I could before my stream ended. It was a thrill to do this in such a public restroom, where I might well have been seen doing my kinky little thing. 

Because I was tasting my own, fresh urine absolutely every time I used the toilet, I had the pleasure of the aftertaste in my mouth pretty much nonstop. I would even skip meals so the taste of the food wouldn't change the aftertaste I had come to love and to crave. 

For the longest time, we both reveled in the connection her urine gave us. There is a little streak of sadism in her, though, so she gets more enjoyment from our activities when I don't enjoy them. But in the end, she decided she wanted to do things to me that I didn't like, not that I did like. 

She still spanks me, and I like her to spank me, but I like the spankings because I liked that pain. Spankings also left me sore for a day afterwards. I like her to tie me up, I've even spent the night curled up naked on the floor, hands and feet tied to the footpost of our bed. I love her teasing me, when she gets me excited then refuses to give me the pleasure of release. But each of those things have an unpleasant edge to them. I could not report anything at all unpleasant about drinking her urine. For that reason, she lost interest. 

I do sometimes kneel before her in personal attendance, but I rarely am rewarded by the hot cup of urine. She occasionally gives me a glass in a public place, in part because of the heightened humiliation and in part because she knows my enjoyment is less when people might notice. When I travel, I sometimes give myself the treat of brushing my teeth in my own urine at night. 

I have learned that I can ply her with alcohol at the right pace, so that when she is a little tipsy at the time she needs to pee, she will stop and look at me with a certain expression on her face. I play the game with her by taking her out, showing her a good time, and helping her reach that exact point in the evening that I can then enjoy the result. So this wonderful treat still comes to me, just not every day as I'd like. I'm still addicted, but my beloved Mistress gives me only a little. I love that, too. 

*

Do live your life in a safe manner. Confusing fantasy with reality is called schizophrenia. The author, having done a significant amount of research for this story, reports to you that the reality can be very different from the fantasy. 

The author using the pseudonyms Henry Daniels claims copyright to this work as of 2012. You must not repost, nor republish, this story in any form without first obtaining the consent of the author at the contact information above. 

Comments most welcome via the comments system here. I want to improve as a writer, so I am interested in particular in editorial comments.