"Stef" 
By Dirty Dawg

Semi-Standard Disclaimer: As usual, this is your 'vanilla' type of 
male/female sex/love story here. This is NOT a story about a nympho 
teenage cheerleader naked skydiver having midair sex with her coach 
before landing in a cucumber patch guarded by a horny St. Bernard.
Sorry. As usual, this is material of an explicit, adult nature, and
should only be viewed or posessed by adults of legal age in whatever
villiage, town, city, community, state, or country you happen to
harken from. Failure to safeguard this material in an appropriate
manner might result dire consequences. You have been warned.

Now that THAT's out of the way, let's get on with the story.

As always, comments, questions, suggestions, flamage and so on can be
directed to drambo@cloud9.net, or drambo@primenet.com

======================================================================

-1-


        My name is Patrick, and this is my story. It's not easy
attaining the age of 27 in today's world and still remain a virgin,
but somehow, I'd managed it. It wasn't as though I never dated or
never had girlfriends, it was just that I didn't know how to take any
of my relationships through to that final intimacy. Up until Stephanie
came into my life, I'd been in love three times, and each time I was
betrayed by the woman I loved.
        The first time she left me for my then-best friend. They later
got married, and I attended the wedding. I can think of many things
that are hard for someone to do, but standing in the church watching
Susan and Paul get married was probably the hardest thing I'd done to
that point. And up until the moment she said "I do," I actually
thought she was going to stop at the last moment and come running back
into my arms.
        That, of course, was pure fantasy. In reality Susan and Paul
married and set up house in Florida, and I still keep in touch with
them. We send cards at Christmas and on birthdays and things like
that. I'm still good friends with Susan, and to a somewhat lesser
degree with Paul. The relationship is warm, although a little strained
at times. Especially when Susan calls me and tells me that she wishes
her husband was more like me in some ways. I've never hit a woman, but
I swear, sometimes I'm tempted when she starts pulling <that> shit on
me.
        Patricia was my second love, and she betrayed me also. When I
was 11, I had an accident, and as a result, my penis never fully
developed. It's very thick...but very short, just over four inches
long. I'd listened to all the women that said that size doesn't
matter, as long as you know how to use it. When Patricia and I were
starting to get hot and heavy, she offered to suck my cock. I agreed,
and whipped it out. Needless to say, Patricia and I had a long, frank
discussion where she pointed out that yes, there were some women to
whom size did not matter, but unfortunately, she wasn't one of them,
and there was just <no> way I was going to be able to sexually satisfy
her. That, in and of itself, was painful. But Patricia took it a step
further and informed all her friends and our coworkers of the size of
my equipment, and I became but butt of every dick joke at the office.
So I had to resign, and move away to start over again.
        So, by this time, I'm beginning to think that women are, in
general, evil incarnate.
        Then I met Melissa. Melissa's betrayal was the hardest,
because she gave me the most hope for a real relationship. She only
pretended to like me and want to go out with me because she knew it
would drive her boyfriend insane. She rebuffed my clumsy attempts at
intimacy, and only wanted to be seen with me at bars and places she
knew Jason would be hanging out at. When I discovered the truth, I
resigned myself to the fact that I would probably be alone for the
rest of my life.
        I thought a lot about why women didn't want to be with me, and
I could never put a finger on why. I'm not handsome...but I'm nowhere
near ugly, either. I'm just sort of average. I'm about five feet ten
inches, again, not too tall nor too short. I'm fairly smart, but I'm
not an egghead. I'm kind of funny, in my own wry way, but I'm not the
life of the party...but I'm not a deadbeat either. I'm an electronics
engineer for a defense contractor, so I make a good buck, but I'm not
rich. It just seemed like I fell through the social cracks everywhere
I turned.
        And then Stephanie came into my life. A large project came up
at work, a classified design regarding a new radio. For obvious
reasons, I can't to into the specifics of it, but I can say that it
looked like I was going to be putting some long nights and weekends
for about a year. The Defense Department didn't want a lot of people
on this project because of the sensitivity, so I'd be the only
engineer. Actually, I was looking forward to the distraction of work.
That way, I couldn't sit at home at night and watch TV. Because on TV,
all I saw were lovely women and handsome men falling in love and
making love and doing all sorts of wonderful, sexy things to each
other...and it was getting to the point where when I saw two people
kissing on TV I felt an actual physical ache in the middle of my
chest, and a strange tightening in my face and around my eyes. It was
annoying and childish, but I couldn't help it. So, the idea of
spending several straight months in the vault (the secure area at
work,) was not that intimidating or daunting.
        Then Stephanie arrived. Management had decided that I needed
an administrative assistant, and Stephanie was hired. She had the
proper security clearences from her time served in the Navy, so there
was no problem there. I was informed via memo that I had a new
assistant coming, and I notcied that it was a female. My only
experience with cleared, engineer-type adminstrative assistants told
me that she probably wouldn't be all that good looking, and would most
likely have a body-odor problem. (Don't ask me why...they just seem
to, that's all...) I was not prepared for what greeted me the
following Monday when I stepped into the vault.
        Our offices were actually a suite of two offices with a
reception area that led in from the hallway. There was a cipher lock
on the door ( a cipher lock is a lock that has five buttons instead of
keys; you press the buttons in the correct order, first time, every
time, or some heavily armed, no-nonsense US Marines appear and start
asking tough questions while pointing bayonets-fixed loaded weapons at
you...) and when I pushed it open, clutching my briefcase in one hand
and my brown-bag lunch in the other, I was greeted with an impressive
view of a tight little ass staring me right in the face.
        I straightened up and looked harder. She was short, about five
five, and had short light brown hair cut in a pageboy. She was wearing
a business dress and heels, and looked very ladylike from the rear. I
couldn't tell what her face looked like, but from this distance I was
very favorably impressed.
        She heard me standing there (?!) and turned to face me, a
small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
        "Patrick?" she asked. Silently, I nodded. Her grin grew. "I'm
Stephanie," she said, walking over and offering me her hand. "I'm your
new assistant." Again, all I did was nod silently.
        "Here," she offered, "let me take that." She reached out and
took my lunchbag. "I'll just put it in the fridge." She left me
standing there as I watched her walk away. I took a moment to study my
own feelings. She was not gorgeous by cover-girl standards, but there
was a farm-girl freshness to her face that I found very exciting and
beautiful. She looked like the girl-next-door and your best friend's
sister and a farmer's daughter all rolled up into one. She wore horn-
rimmed glasses that did nothing to hide her incredible blue eyes.
(Blue eyed brunetts are always a turn on.) And she had a very winning,
very engaging smile. Suddenely I knew that the next year was not going
to be the cakewalk that I'd thought it was going to be.
        Because I knew I was attracted to her, and at the same time
that realization hit me, another one did, telling me that there was no
way she was going to be attracted to me. Which meant, of course, that
I was in for a year of agonizing heartbreak and heartache, and that at
the end of it all I would have to show for it would be another female
'friend.'
        But that's not what happened. No indeedee. It's true that I
fell painfully, desperately, quietly in love with Stef. We became
friends, and as friends do, we talked. She told me of the heartache in
her own personal life, of being used and abused by her boyfriends, and
that she had decided to forgo personal relationships for a while and
concentrate on her job. I could fully understand that idea, and tried
to support her as best I could.
        The constant long hours bred a familarity between us that was
both gratifying and disconcerting at the same time. I felt closer to
her as a person, as a friend, than I ever had to anyone else. But I
also wanted to get closer, much closer, and had no idea how to bring
that about. We shared many long, deep conversations about work and
life and love and The Meaning Of It All, but we always seemed to avoid
the main topic, which was us.
        She all but moved into my office, so as to help me better. We
spent close to eighteen hours a day together, working on the project.
Blueprints and printouts and computers were spread all over the
office, and we spent more time there than anywhere else. We stopped
dressing in business attire and took to wearing jeans and sneakers and
polo shirts. Since this was a classified project, no one was allowed
access to the office, and in fact, we could have taken weeks at a time
off and not have been noticed since we arrived before anyone else and
left long after the building was empty. We created, in effect, our own
little world. We were cut off from the rest of the world because we
couldn't get TV or radio reception inside the EMS-shielded office. We
did play tapes and CD's though.
        And as the time went by, we got closer still. Stef would stand
over my shoulder as I worked, watching my efforts and making small
comments. Although she didn't have a degree in engineering, she had a
wonderfully sharp mind and made frequent suggestions that helped the
project reach fruition closer than expected.
        It was during the last months that things started to get
weird. She started getting in my way, so to speak. Not emotionally or
mentally, but physically. I would lean back at my desk, and instead of
moving away as she normally would, I instead bumped into her boob, or
her butt. She would stand very close to me when talking, so close that
she had to look up at me. I found myself getting lost in her eyes more
than once.
        And then it happened. Stef started seeing someone on the side.
She asked for some time off one weekend, and I asked her why. We used
to spend most of Saturday and Sunday at the office, working hard to
bring the project in under time and under budget. Her request caught
me off guard, and when she told me that she had met someone and that
he had asked her out on a date...something inside me quietly broke and
died. I nodded and told her that of course she could have the time
off, and that I hoped everything went wonderfully.
        That wasn't completely true, though. Of course, I wanted her
to be happy, above all else, that's all I wanted. But I wanted to be
the person to make her happy, not some nameless and faceless suitor
that had snuck up behind me and stolen the woman that I...
        What? Love? Yes...I can say that. I loved Stef by that point.
It was a quiet, warm kind of love, not the glandular infatuation that
had marked most of my personal relationships. I deeply cared for Stef
as a person, and I was wildly attracted to her as a man. If that's not
the best mixture for a lasting relationship, then I didn't know what
was.
        Well, yes, I did. I knew that she had to feel the same way
about me for it work. One-way love just doesn't ever make it; take it
from me, I know.
        So, Stef went off on her date. I worked until almost midnight
that night, and came home to a ringing phone. I decided to let the
machine answer it. I wasn't sure who it was, but I had an idea. Stef
and I shared everything, and if the date went half as well as I
expected it to, I was sure that it was Stef calling to tell me how
much fun she had. And truth be told, as much as I wanted to share that
with her, take happiness in her joy, I just wasn't up to it at that
point.
        The machine clicked on, and I heard my announcement. The beep
was long and loud, and then there was...silence. A good ten seconds of
silence. And then a tear-choked voice issued from the speaker.
        "Patrick? Are you there?" She hitched a sob out, and then she
really started to cry. I was across the room in a hearbeat, snatching
the phone up in my hand at the same time I thumbed the machine off.
        "I'm here, Stef," I said softly. "What's wrong?" Well, what
the hell else could be wrong? Stef's would-be suitor had turned out to
be an octopus with eleven hands and one thought on his mind: Getting
those slimy tentacles on Stef's body. She had spent most of the date
fighting him off.
        "Why?" she asked. "Why are they all jerks?"
        "I have an idea," I said softly. I glanced at my watch. It was
just after twelve-thirty. The night was still young. "What say I grab
a pint out of the freezer and come on over? We can talk about it."
        There was a long moment, and then Stef agreed. We hung up. I
ran to the freezer and grabbed a pint of Chocolate-Chip Cookie Dough
from my two favorite men: Ben & Jerry. I jumped into my Jeep and
headed over to Stef's place.



-2-

        Stef answered the door wearing a college T-shirt and track
shorts, her face devoid of any makeup. Her eyes were red and puffy
from crying, but she never looked better to me: Fresh and clean and so
damn beautiful. My heart went out to her, and I wanted to break the
neck of her thoughtless date. If he had given her a little more time,
let her go at her own pace, she might have ended up with one of the
most wonderful women in the world. But he thought with the little head
instead of the big one, and he'd hurt her. That earned him a pretty
high position on my shit list.
        Stef leaned in and threw her arms around my neck. "Thanks for
coming," she whispered in my ear, her breath tickling the hair on my
neck. I squeezed back, and for the first time, I felt the entire
length of her body against mine. She was warm and soft, and yes,
perfect.
        We moved inside to the living room, pried the top off the
pint, and dug in with two spoons. We started talking about her date.
It had started off well enough: Dinner and drinks at a local bistro.
But from the beginning, Stef had known that something was up. He sat
way, way too close, and took every opportunity to touch her. His hands
were on her legs, on her back, squeezing her shoulder...Steff was
uncomfortable from the start.
        And it only got worse from there. By the end of the night,
after dancing (where he had placed both hands on her butt and squeezed
like he was testing melon freshness at the supermarket,) they had
gotten into a sort-of-fight in the car. He kept insisting that she
'owed' him something for all the money he had laid out for the night.
She had managed to get away, and had told him never, ever to call her
again. He'd called her a dirty name and roared off in his car.
        After she was done telling me the story, Steff fell silent.
The ice cream was long since gone, and we shared a comfortable silence
known only to close friends. We were sitting on opposite ends of the
couch, the extra cushion between us.
        "Why can't guys be...nice?" she asked.
        "Some are," I lamely offered.
        "I know," she whispered. I caught movement out of the corner
of my eye. Stef's hand was in the middle of the cushion, palm up. It
was a silent invitation, and I stared at it for a long, quiet moment.
I raised my eyes to hers, and saw her silently pleading with me.
Slowly, agonozingly, I reached out my hand and took hers.
        We stayed that way for half an hour, just holding hands. Her
fingers tickled the skin of my palm every so often. It sent bolts of
electricity shooting up my arm and into my heart. I wasn't quite sure
what was happening...but I knew what I wanted to happen. A thousand
thoughts were running through my mind. I was frozen in indecision.
        So Stef made up my mind for me. She came across the couch at
me, slowly, steadily. I saw the look on her face...it was serious, but
she had a far-away quality in her eyes that I just couldn't place. Our
faces were inches apart, and then centimeters; I could feel her breath
on my lips, and then she was kissing me...softly at first. It was a
bird's kiss, a gentle little brush, nothing more.
        She backed off a bit, her steady gaze finding mine. "I've been
thinking about that kiss for six months," she whispered. And then she
came at me again, her lips slightly open this time. She sucked my
bottom one, chewing it gently. The floodgates inside me opened, and my
mouth soon followed. The kiss was incredibly soft and slightly moist.
Her mouth worked against mine, and then I felt the slick wedge of her
tongue sliding into my mouth, and I sucked at it softly.
        She moved towards me, her body reaching for mine, and then we
were in each other's arms. Stef's body folded against mine perfectly,
and I felt the pressure of her breasts against my chest. It was a
wonderful feeling, and I wanted it to last the entire night. My hands
were on her back, lightly stroking her body through the T-shirt. Steff
reached behind her and grabbed my by the fingers, and then slowly slid
my hand around until it was between us, my palm facing my chest. She
lifted my hand, running the backs of my fingers over her breast. I was
suddenely aware that Stef was not wearing a bra.
        "Touch me," she whispered softly. "Please, Pat, touch me." No
one had ever called me Pat before. I liked the way it sounded coming
out of her mouth. I kissed her a little harder, trying to telegraph my
desire and hunger for her, for her body, for this new intimacy that we
were about to share.
        I rotated my wrist and touched a female breast for the first
time in my life. I was amazed; it felt so perfect in my hand. My thumb
scraped her nipple..once...twice, and she gasped into my mouth. I
grinned around the kiss and tried it again. Stef moaned, kissing me
harder, reaching for my tongue with hers.
        We necked like that, my hand on her breast, her hands on my
shoulders, for what seemed an eternity. Finally, she broke the kiss
and looked at me, an incredibly serious expression on her face. "You
can... underneath...if you want."
        I smiled to show her that I understood the incredibly precious
and special gift she was giving me. Slowly, my hand slid down to the
hem of her shirt, and then under. I felt the smooth, warm skin of her
abdomen, and stopped a moment to tickle her bellybutton. She giggled
into my mouth, and then I slid my hand up, higher. I wasn't sure what
I was about to discover, I only knew that I wanted to.
        My hand closed around Stef's soft, warm breast, and I felt her
gasp at that first contact. I held her breast like a delicate porcelin
artifact, and slowly began to stroke and squeeze it. Stef moaned
harder into my mouth, and before I knew it, her hand was in my lap,
tracing the outline of my need through my pants. Her fingers were
unsure and a little clumsy, but her touch was pure passion and
electricity.
        "Come with me," Stef suddenely whispered. She stood in front
of me, shyly offering me her hand. Standing, I took it, and followed
her back to the bedroom. It was decorated in soft pastels, and the bed
dominated the room. It was a king-size platform job, and it looked
extremely comfortable and soft. Stef turned and pushed me until I was
sitting on it, and then stepped between my legs, draping her arms over
my shoulders. I snaked my own arms around her waist and drew her to
me, kissing her abdomen through the shirt.
        "Make me naked for you," she breathed. My hands slid under the
hem of her shirt again, both of them this time, and I made my way up
her body until I had both breats in my hands. Stef moaned at my touch,
low, in her throat, like a cat purring, as she felt my fingers gently
stroking her soft skin.
        I suddenely wanted to see her nude, naked before me, hungry
and wanting. The passion that I'd been feeling for her was welling up
again, threatening to burst forth and overwhelm us both. I slid the T-
shirt up and over her shoulders, and smiled as I saw Stef's naked
breasts for the first time; they were perfect, as only hers could ever
be. They jiggled slightly with her movments, the pink little nipples
looking enticing and delicious. I leaned foward and captured one in my
mouth, lashing at it with my tongue.
        Stef gasped, her fingers winding in my hair, pulling my face
harder against her body. I alternated breasts, my hands moving to her
buttocks, squeezing them, my thumbs hooking in the waistband and
slowly lowering them over her gently flaring hips. The fell at her
feet, and she daintly stepped out of them, using my shoulders for
support.
        She stood before me, wearing only a tiny pair of white cotton
panties; yes, I know they sound boring as I tell it to you, but let me
assure you that it was one of the sexiest sights I have ever seen.
Stef was eying me, sexily biting her bottom lip as she awiated my
approval.
        I leaned in and kissed her abdomen, inhaling her scent.
"You're gorgeous," I whispered, and I felt her smile in appreciation.
Then it was my turn. I put her on the bed, softly, gently, and stood
off to the side. My shirt came off in a flash, and then my pants, and
my shoes and socks. I had only my light-blue boxers on as I joined her
on the bed.
        We melted together, our mouths and hands and lips and tongues
finding each other. I began to hear a buzzing in my ear as I realized
what I was about to do; should I tell her of my inexperience with
women? Or should I forge ahead and just try to figure it out as I
went? I decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and if
she were to ask me later, I'd confess that she was the first woman
that I'd ever been with.
        My fingers had been lightly tracing Stef's thighs; I was
barely touching her, and I could feel the gooseflesh on her legs, so I
figured i was doing something right.
        I started kissing her throat, moving slowly down her body,
taking a few moments to completely kiss and nuzzle her breats before
continuing down. I licked her belly button and then moved a little
further south, moving around until I was on my knees between her legs.
Stef was obviously aroused, and I couldn't wait to taste her. I'd
dreamed of this for so, so long, I wanted to savor every moment.
        I started at her ankles, slowly kissing my way up her legs,
tasting her soft, satiny skin, getting ever closer to her slowly
leaking sex. I could smell her, her sex-scent filling my head and soul
with the ambrosia of her arousal. And then I was there, lightly
kissing her through the panties, licking at her sex, feeling her
tremble. I watched in amazement as her stomach muscles did a flip-
flop, and then a little wave wracked her body as I licked at her once
more.
        "Off," she said. "Take them off." I backed up and slid the
panties down her legs and smiled as I saw the dewy lips of her mound.
I was salivating, I was so hungry to taste her. I'm not proud to admit
it, but I dove in like a drowning man at an oasis. I buried my face in
her sex, licking at her fat, slick lips, instantly loving the taste.
She was musky and a little sweaty, but it made it only that much more
delicious. I started floundering around, and then Stef's hands found
my head and she guided me.
        "There," she moaned. "Right there. Lick me there." So I did as
bade and watched as I brought the woman I loved to orgasm for the
first time. I'd slid a finger inside her hot, slick tunnel, and felt
the moist walls grabbing at me as she dissolved into orgasm again and
again as I softly, gently licked her clit.
        "Inside me," Stef whispered. I did as asked again, rising from
between her legs, shedding my boxers, showing her my urgent, throbbing
need for the first time. She smiled shyly at me, reaching for it,
rubbing her thumb along my slick head. I gasped at her touch, the
feeling almost too intense to stand. If I'd thought that was
incredible, it was nothing compared to what was to come.
        Stef pulled me towards her, one hand still on my staff, the
other on the back of my neck, lowering me to her face. As she lined me
up with her entrance, I gasped as I felt her warm slickness. And then
she was guiding me inside, lifting her hips to help with the
penetration.
        I slid down her slick tunnel, gritting my teeth. The sensation
was incredible; on the one hand, I was kicking myself for waiting so
long, and on the other, I was so incredibly glad that it was Stef who
was showing me what adult physical love was all about.
        I bottomed out inside her, and Stef kissed me at that moment,
her tongue licking at the inside of my mouth.
        "I love you," she whispered. "Tonight...this is so perfect."
And then we kissed again. Slowly, I began to stroke. Stef lifted her
hips to meet me, and we fell into a sweet rhythm that made me crazy.
        We slowly began to gain speed and depth and hunger and
urgency, and before long we were cranking right along. Stef started to
gasp and moan, and I felt her gripping me with her muscles. It was too
much for me.
        We exploded together, both of us screaming with pleasure,
release, and the ultimate realization of a long-held dream. I
collapsed on top of Stef, and then rolled over, bringing her with me.
She cuddled into the hollow of my shoulder, her hand teasing my
nipple.
        "I've dreamed of this-" I started to say, but Stef placed a
silencing finger over my lips.
        "Shh..don't say anything. Just hold me."
        I did.