Jen's Legacy.

Claire had known this man for not even two full days, and already here they were about to complete this intimately unifying act. They had already made overtures to love, but only in discovery stages as they each learned about the other, so they both knew what was called for now.

Not to bandy with words and to beat about the bush... she was about to be fucked for the very first time (as that court had demanded), and she would make sure of it, though she still preferred to think of it as making love, rather than having sex or fucking, both of which seemed so emotionally divorced from what they actually felt for each other, even if the mechanical effort and interactions were the same. It was the mental processing behind it, the emotions, that took it from lust, alone, to loving-lust.

She was crouched over him with five points of contact; two knees touching beside his body and two hands resting beside him, by his shoulders, touching them. The fifth point was this ragingly erect part of his, started into her vagina as he supported her soft cheeks under her, filling both hands, feeling their smooth softness. It was the one point of contact that really counted, and it was never going to come out of her if she could help it, until they had both succeeded. It was unlikely to come out of her, provided she didn’t move or chicken out of this, or he did, but he wouldn’t.

He saw what she intended, though he couldn’t be sure (one could never be sure), but this vulnerable moment was too interesting to waste, so he brought both hands from under her to sit full upon her breasts. Seven points of contact now. Kissing would make it eight, and if she came down fully to lie on his body once he was into her; nine.

The moment she had placed him into her to get started, he tensed up, stretching his legs out, thrusting himself up into her, but doing so slowly, to maintain contact without taking her off-guard and hurting her, feeling that she did not entirely retreat as far as she might have done as he pushed, so he moved forward another fraction of an inch into her by that act. A few more moves like that one, and she would have nothing to worry about; he would be into her.

She did nothing else, other than to slowly lean down to kiss him, as he lowered her upper body to him, holding her breasts to do that, so that they could kiss and drive this further along.

She did not want to miss any part of what was about to happen between them and that she fervently believed would impregnate her, but only the second time it happened. She remembered that. That one, special sperm for her, was in the second batch. Impregnation and pregnancy was what she wanted. Despite knowing Royce for such a short time, she already knew that she needed to bear his children and get a start on this Healey Dynasty. She owed it to Jen and to herself.

Claire’s grandmother and parents would be horrified if they knew what their darling, innocent little girl was doing to encourage him into her body; what they had already done… what they would soon be doing properly for the first time, and often, after that... and what she was planning in even the short term, but her parents were not going to find out about any of this until it was all too late for either them, or her. Few parents ever did find out what their children got up to in their private moments with someone of the opposite sex.

He had not gone so far into her that second night after discovering that she was so tense, and was far too tight to take him easily without being hurt, so he had held off, not even going into her a half inch, at first, more or less. Now she had managed about an inch of him, almost the entire head of his penis this time, so they were making definite progress.

He felt how nervous she became, knowing what to expect now, able to see him going into her, and knowing what would happen when all of it slid into her if she let gravity take over for her.

She was concerned, of course, as any young woman would be the first time, knowing what she knew, and could see and feel about him; his obvious eagerness for her, but wanting him to continue with her to get this behind them.

She was seeing so little of him going into her body, just the complete bulbous head of his penis into her as far as the neck of it—but more than had gone into her that second night—before he stopped again, feeling resistance ahead of him and around him, and feeling her concern rise as she held her breath and froze up on him.

He was held in a vise.

She paused now, feeling how difficult it would be for her to continue.

He would remain still and let her decide, but other things would soon take over, the way he was feeling.

He looked into her eyes, smiling, waiting for her to relax farther down upon him, if she could, as he held her breasts, wondering what she would decide; would it be now? Or would it be later?

He tried to reassure her while he could still think and speak. “Don’t worry, I won’t push up into you until you let me, or until you decide for yourself. You are in control of this. The first time is always difficult.” He repeated himself. “Remember, you are in control.”

Like hell she was!

He held himself there, not responding, not pushing in response to her as he so wanted to do, just started into her. He smoothed his hands over her soft skin and groaned in anticipation, before coming back to hold her breasts again, leaning up to kiss them and then her, as he looked into her face, running his hands gently across her nipples, her breasts filling, overflowing his large hands, feeling the nipples become solidly erect under his palms.

She felt how hard and eager he was for her, and how much he wanted and needed to go all of the way into her, and it was a decision she would have to make soon, maybe even before he came. He would not be able to hold where he was for long before something changed, and she knew what that change would be; when he came, and then would want to push. Hard.

No. She would stick to the plan.

He would not be long in coming. It had happened often between them that second night, but in a different way to what she had wanted when she found that he couldn’t easily get into her, though he had come often enough, and even into her after that first time, but he had never been deep enough into her as she wanted him to be, to get this stage properly behind them.

She knew what to expect with him poised just within her entrance again, even if a little deeper than before. This first time would be a slow process, but she would soon solve that, thanks to Jen.

She hoped he would not just push into her out of control when he came, or it would certainly hurt her.

He began to breathe more noticeably, beginning to come, then groaned, and at the same time she opened up to admit more of him, deeper into her, but not deep enough yet, just as he came in several pulses into her. She felt that.

She waited, sensing what she felt. He was not running out of her so easily his time. She held her body above him and waited, knowing what would happen now.

He came down from that high as he continued to kiss and touch her, breathing heavily as she stayed poised above him. He waited to see what she would decide.

She felt him relaxing, with other changes happening in him now. He was shrinking slowly, and his girth—the biggest challenge for her poor, tortured vagina (but it would soon get used to him)—was also diminishing, letting her settle more upon him and to take more of him into her with almost no discomfort. That was comforting to recognize.

He would be like this for at least a few more minutes, depending upon how much she excited him and how quickly he revived.

Remembering what Jen had told her, she let her body slowly descend upon him, consciously relaxing her vaginal muscles from being clamped tight around him as he lost his stiffness and he slid more easily and farther into her as he became more manageable for her.

She was intent on not descending upon him too fast at this early stage and driving him too far into her too quickly. He was still intimidating.

After a further few minutes, relaxing more and more upon him, following him down as he’d diminished, she felt that she was sitting full upon him, and could get no closer to his body. Everything of him that could be in her was in her now, and all that she needed to do was to wait, patiently.

She was able to relax at last. There would be no sudden surprises, but she also knew that this situation--the calm before the storm--would not last for long.

Now, she could change the position of her legs without letting him slip from her. She leant back, holding his legs behind her as she moved her legs, swinging them one at a time, from kneeling beside him, to extending up beside his body so that she was sitting full upon him, held there by her weight, and with the sensation that he was still where she needed him to be; started into her.

She rocked first to one side, then the other as she pushed her hand under herself, between them, and pulled her labia apart, feeling where he was, and to be sure that he had full and clear access to slide up and into her when he revived once more, and that the trajectory was as it should be for optimal re-entry. She was thinking like a rocket engineer.

She had all of him now, but what she had, was this smaller version of him. Could she keep all of him in her when he began to rise from the dead again? But where-else could he go? All escapes were closed to him but that one she was offering.

All she had to do now was wait. She could touch him now wherever she could reach; his neck, his chest, touch his minuscule nipples (not in the least interesting to her), smooth her hand over his rippled belly (more interesting), touch him both in front of her and behind her; his legs, discover his testicles (very interesting), play with them, as he became more focused on her breasts and upon other things again.

Yes, that had an effect. He was beginning to focus again.

He held her breasts, playing with them, touching at her smooth skin of her lower belly where he had removed that hair, then back to her breasts again. He was able to touch at the front of her vulva, but nothing more than that under her with her sitting where she was, full on him, no space between them to discover anything more.

He was becoming agitated again, moving his hands behind her across her cheeks, holding them, pulling at them, parting them, and lifting her as though to be sure of where he was in her, pushing up into her in preparation for his next time which was already beginning. He reached farther under her, parting her labia where he could reach them, just as she had done, then pushing to seat himself deeper and more solidly within her in preparation for this next stage.

She leaned back to hold his legs, finding it easier to sit that way as he came back often to touch at her, under her, always trying to touch more, before he came back to her breasts. She fidgeted and moved, needing to feel him in her, growing, making sure that she was fully relaxed, but still holding around him, leaving him nowhere to go; waiting to see when, if, she would begin to object, but silently. If this was going to hurt her, then it would hurt her, but she wasn’t going to stop him.

She was going to sit like this, come hell or high water. Once he became fully engorged-- had become totally aroused once more and had pushed up into her with nowhere else to go-- he would take over and roll with her so that he was uppermost. He would be unable to avoid doing that.

That would be the moment of her success.

She became conscious of the changes she expected, feeling as though she were sitting on a volcano, ready to explode and blow its top, (an apt analogy, considering that he would soon erupt like a volcano) feeling more and more impaled, sensing him growing under her, sliding inexorably into her, with her not moving, not yielding, not giving ground; sitting there, sensing everything, waiting for the real pain to begin, but it wasn’t happening yet.

Something had to give, again, but the escape for him was in only one direction, up and into her this time, with few of the uncertainties or the concerns; filling her totally with nowhere else for him to go this time and no sensation of any tightness or constriction blocking his progress deep into her.

She felt every change as it happened. He started smaller this time, of course, less large around, so was able to move into her deeper than before.

She felt that change, and consciously fidgeted upon him to help ease the pathway. Fortunately, she was still moist and well-lubricated from that previous eruption. It helped a lot.

As he became more erect, still growing into her, she felt him expanding, moving her vaginal sheath firmly apart around him, leaving her in no doubt that without her weight holding her down around him, or that lubrication to help him slide up and into her, she would not be experiencing this, but would be rising upon him like a raisin sitting on top of an overactive bread dough.

There was a lot of uncertainty at this step. She had never done anything like this before, and hoped she wouldn’t regret her impetuosity; but the way Jen had described that encounter between them on that grassy hill-slope near Castleton, there had been nothing that she’d regretted, so she was worrying for nothing.

Claire had no intention of moving, or of giving, or losing ground now, to the strange feeling filling her. She didn’t like to equate it with a bout of constipation, but the growing discomfort and sense of being overfull and stretched, close to tearing, was the same. It would soon pass once she got used to this.

He was very big, yes, but all of him was solidly within her now, still growing. He was constantly pushing at her now, taxing her to the limit, but she also knew that she had succeeded.

There had been method in her madness. What a pity she hadn’t known about this way of circumventing this virginal problem earlier the previous night.