From: indexhtml@netscape.net   
      
   Story: FRANCIS   
      
   by DoctorP   
      
   I am seventy-six years old, a survivor of the Batan Death March, and   
   in most ways a man's man. I practiced medicine in Minneapolis for   
   over thirty-five years. Certainly, I am no pedophile. The sight of a   
   young pre-pubescent girl from any view has never aroused me.   
   Nevertheless, I fell in love with a twelve year old girl. And,   
   everything I ever knew about sex I learned from her, or rather, with   
   her. I learned how to be slow and gentle; I learned how to bring   
   shudders of orgasm rippling through her; I learned by the feel of   
   her nipples whether she was through or whether she wanted more; I   
   learned how to kiss and lick and tease and give pleasure that   
   multiplied my own by the thousands.   
      
   It was November of 1941. At twenty-one, the Army owned me. Together with   
   thousands of others at Fort Monmouth, N.J. we waited for the war to get   
   to America. I hated the Army, I hated Fort Monmouth, but most of all I   
   hated the barracks. So I rented a sleeping room in the town. I had been   
   a medical intern and was made a first lieutenant. That gave me some   
   leeway and was I able to spend many nights at my room and almost every   
   Sunday.   
      
   That is where I met Francis. Her father was also in the Army   
   stationed in England as part of the lend-lease agreement. Her mother   
   worked in a factory on the three to mid-night shift. She was glad to   
   have a man come into the house even though I was not there every   
   night. Francis was twelve. She was gorgeous, at least to me. I did   
   not seduce her and she certainly did not try to seduce me, we just   
   fell in love.   
      
   She was not precocious. When I first saw her, I didn't look for, and I   
   didn't see any swelling of breasts at all. All I saw was a beautiful   
   young girl. She was very light skinned with shining red hair and blue   
   eyes. Her hair was cut rather short almost mannish in the pixie style of   
   the day. Her white blouse and long skirt showed her to be the school   
   girl that she was.   
      
   Our relationship started the first day. Although, I was not supposed   
   to be "in charge" of her, her mother reminded her in front of me   
   that she was to be in bed by nine o'clock. I had rented a little   
   bedroom on the third floor (really the attic) with a built-in   
   bathroom. Her bedroom was on the far side of the floor below. Shortly   
   after nine that night, I was in my room when I heard a little knock.   
   When I opened the door, Francie was there. She wore a floor length   
   flannel night gown that covered her from neck to toes. Only her   
   beautiful face and hands were visible. I was delighted to invite her   
   in.   
      
   "I only wanted to say, 'Goodnight'", she told me.   
      
   "I'm glad you did", I replied. "You look so pretty." She blushed.   
   Clearly, she knew that I meant it.   
      
   I reached down and took both of her hands in mine. Drawing one to my   
   lips, I gently kissed it. "Sweet dreams, beautiful lady", I told   
   her. For what seemed like hours her eyes were glued to my face. Then   
   with the sweetest smile, she turned to go, I gently grasped her   
   shoulders, leaned down and kissed her cheek.   
      
   It was as if lightning bolts went between us. She leaned back on me   
   and tilted her head. The softest little "Oh" escaped her lips. I   
   knelt down, she turned back and we were face to face. A little   
   motion of her head, and it was obvious she wanted me to kiss her on   
   the lips. Softly I did so. She had no experience and neither did I.   
   So, of course, we didn't French kiss or anything like that. But, it   
   didn't get over in an instant either. And, when it did, it was I   
   that broke it. I put my lips to her ear and whispered, "You are the   
   most beautiful girl I have ever met." And, it was true. It wasn't   
   until she hugged me that I realized that she did indeed have   
   breasts. Little firm knobs that felt like fire on my chest. I patted   
   her back and told her more firmly than I felt, "Now you really must   
   go to bed, good night sweet Francie." She hugged me again and left.   
      
   I was drained. How could I be attracted to a twelve year old girl?   
   No, there had never been a steady girl friend. Yes, I was still   
   virgin myself, unless you counted my hand. But, a twelve year old   
   girl! I went to bed distracted and worried. I had had little sleep   
   when I left for the Fort in the morning.   
      
   It was three days (and two long night) before I was able to leave my   
   post again. Hardly any one had phones in those days so I was not   
   able to call. Night had fallen, I used my key to enter the house and   
   Francis came running.   
      
   "I thought you were never coming again", she wailed.   
      
   "Ten thousand charging elephants couldn't keep me away", I joked.   
      
   Dropping to my knees again, our arms encircled each other and we   
   kissed, and kissed, and kissed. Somehow we knew to get our lips wet   
   and slippery. Truly, her lips tasted sweet. I couldn't get enough of   
   her kisses. She couldn't either. Those little breasts were smashed   
   against my chest. It was delirious. I had to pry her arms off me.   
      
    >From that moment on, it was clear that Francis was my life. I didn't   
   know how I could stand it. I bolted up the two flights of stairs to   
   my room, went to the bed and plopped on my back. I wanted her. But   
   she was TWELVE. What was I going to do?   
      
   I don't know how long I lay there in the dark until the sound of a   
   tiny knock-knock came into my consciousness. Then from the dim   
   hallway light, I could see a little figure enter the room.   
      
   "Are you there?" she asked.   
      
   "Yes, Francie."   
      
   "Can I come in?"   
      
   "Sure."   
      
   She came over to me.  "Are you mad at me?"   
      
   "No, not at all."   
      
      
   "Why did you run upstairs?"   
      
   I waited a long time to answer. Should I tell her the truth? Was I   
   just being naive and silly? At last I decided to tell her. It was   
   cold in the room. I saw Francis shiver. So, I got up, pulled the   
   comforter aside and lay down again. Drawing Francis down beside me,   
   I covered us both with the comforter.   
      
   "No, Francie, I am not mad at you. Quite the reverse. Your sweetness   
   and beauty have entranced me. But, I am twenty one and you are   
   twelve. We should not be together. In fact you should not be in my   
   room. Do you understand?"   
      
   This time it was she that hesitated. Finally, with a maturity that I   
   did not expect, she began. "I know that I am twelve. But, I want to   
   be with you. I have read that in the old days, girls even got   
   married at twelve. You have been so nice to me. I have spent every   
   moment thinking about kissing you again. I was so afraid you would   
   not come back."   
      
   By now I was crying. It seemed that our hearts were knit together.   
   She sensed my tears and climbed on top of me. Pulling up she kissed   
   the tears from my eyes. She put her full weight on me, and I felt   
   those breasts again. Instantly, I was erect. Afraid that she would   
   feel it and be fearful, I rolled to my side.   
      
   We began kissing again. This time our tongues seemed to   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)