textfiles/sex/EROTICA/F/francis1.txt

Copyright <20> 1997,  DoctorP.      ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without
the written permission of the author.  This story may be freely
distributed with this notice attached.  The author may be contacted
by writing mrdouble@airmail.net.






FRANCIS   -- Part 1  -- A love story 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 am 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
automatically begin to play. It really was play. We explored each
other's mouths, tasted and sucked each other's tongues and lips, and
reveled in the sweet warmth of our mouths. I kissed her nose, her
eyes, and her ears. She loved having her ear lobes sucked. Then the
tickling began. Her giggle wasn't girlish, somehow it was sultry. It
invited and cajoled without words. She was ticklish in all the
usual places, under her arms, behind her knees, and on the bottoms
of her feet. 

We played for a long time. I worried about the time, glanced at my
radium dial watch and saw that it was ten o'clock. Her mother would
leave the factory in just over two hours. How had time flown so
fast? I already hated that Francis was going to have to leave me.
Sensing my thoughts, she turned somber too. The play mood was
broken. She crawled on top of me again. I knew that she could feel
my hardness because she adjusted herself so that her mound pushed
down on it. I caressed her back and ran my hands down over her soft
buttocks. The tickling was just a prelude. We rolled over until I
was on top of her. Though my weight was on my knees and arms, my
erection pushed down on her. She raised her hips and I thought I
would explode on the spot. We were ready for more.

I pulled her to the center of the bed. She lay on her back and her
breathing became ragged. She knew that more than tickling was
coming. My own breath caught in my throat as I lay on my side by her
and began caressing her face. My fingers made long strokes from her
forehead, down her face, down her throat to the V of her blouse.
After only the second stroke, she reached up and unbuttoned her
blouse. My fingers stroked her again, went over the center of her
bra and continued down her softly indented stomach. She drew in a
little breath of air as I explored her stomach and slipped my
fingers under the waistband of her skirt. Finally I circled the
bottom of her ribs and started up her chest. Just as I touched her
little bra, her hands flew up to mine and stopped me. She pushed my
hands back and whispered, "Just a second." She sat up. In the half
light that came through the mostly-closed door, I watched her finish
taking off her blouse and then, reaching behind her, she unsnapped
the little training bra that she wore and pulled it off. I was in
heaven. Those sweet little half lemon breasts were high and pointed
outward. Her nipples were crinkled and erect. All I could say was
"Thank you, Francie." 

She lay down again, pulled me to her and sighed. I felt like Columbus as
I explored those soft little breasts with the hard rubber nipples. It
was easy to for us to talk, "Does this hurt?", "How does that feel?",
"Do you like that?" She was not shy. Soon, I learned how to gently move
my fingers over her nipples. She liked me to pull them up just a little
and let them pop back. I loved it. At last, I asked her if I could kiss
them. This time she didn't answer. She just pushed her chest up to me in
reply and a whole new learning experience began. What can be sweeter
than sucking in a whole breast? Popping nipples is even more fun when
done with the lips especially when a tongue licks them in place after
the pop. 

Midnight drew near and we were still playing and tickling and
popping and sucking. I lay back and said, "You must go back to your
room, your Mother will be coming home soon." She asked the time, I
told her and she replied, "Mommy won't be home for half an hour." We
both lay on our backs saying and doing nothing, dreading the coming
separation. 

At length she said, "Do you know what else I thought about?" 

"No, I replied."

"I thought about us being under the covers with no clothes on at all." 

"Really?" 

"Yes. I want our skin to touch."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Let's do it quick before Mommy gets home."

I couldn't believe she was taking the initiative like this. She
hopped up, and began pulling off her socks. My fingers were
trembling as I unbuttoned and pulled off my clothes as fast as I
could. But I stopped as she pulled off her skirt and panties. She
was gorgeous. Her waist was narrow, her hips were showing the
beginning of a woman's swell. Her mound was prominent with thin
wisps of hair and two full pouting cleft lips.

"Hurry", she said and jumped back under the comforter.

She giggled when I pulled down my shorts and my erection popped up.
Somehow, it wasn't embarrassing. Like her, I wanted our skin to
touch. 

FRANCIS -- End of part 1.














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