Ellen in Brooklyn Heights

PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

"I don't care. I should, but I don't. Maybe I won't go to work at all tomorrow, just call in sick."

On the bed I started for her pussy with my finger, but she stopped me. "I'm wet, I'm wild for you, let's go. What can we do?"

"You've been fucked missionary position, you've ridden my cock, so now we can do it doggy style. Okay?"

"Peter, 'fuck' is so ugly. Let's not say that any more. Now tell me, what's doggy style?"

"Kneel and lean forward on your hands," I said as I moved behind her.

"Now drop down on your elbows." As she did, her ass rose up.

"I'm behind you and I going to go inside you," I said, grabbing my half-hard cock and brushing it in her bush, working to make it stiff enough to get it in. When I was ready I had her guide me to her opening. When we were there I made one push and was completely inside.

"Oh Peter, you feel so big. Can I move now?"

"You push against me, I'll move in and out." We were in rhythm almost from the start. Pretty quickly Ellen was pushing against me so hard that I had to grab her hips to avoid being knocked off the bed.

"Be gentle with me, Ellen," I pleaded. Pretty soon she was thrusting as hard as before and forced my rhythm. I wrapped my arm around her and fumbled for his clit but couldn't bring it out. When I announced that I was going to cum, she said "so am I" and jerked wildly. I collapsed on her and we fell to the mattress. We were exhausted and I almost forgot to set my alarm for 5 a.m.

When we woke to the jangle of the alarm, there was glazed cum all over. We also hadn't eaten since a snack at the Frick. I went for the warm washcloth and Ellen went for the refrigerator. I was embarrassed for her to find that the only thing there was a tub of soft ice cream. We devoured it.

She showered and was ready to go.

"Will you come back tonight, Ellen?"

"Can I bring a change of clothes so I can go to work directly from here?"

We made love twice every night that week. Her co-workers noticed right away that Ellen hadn't put her hair up, like she did every Monday, and bawdily pronounced her a ruined woman. She left her roommates a note that said "I'm staying with Peter. You can reach me at" and gave my phone number.

On Saturday morning Ellen felt a vague discomfort in her abdomen. By Sunday night it was worse and she had a fever. Her doctor couldn't find anything wrong, but by Tuesday morning she was in real pain. The doctor diagnosed acute appendicitis and operated, only to discover that her appendix was fine. Specialists were summoned.

She called me from her hospital bed.

"Peter, they've found out what caused my pain."

"Great! What is it?"

"Gonorrhea," and she began to cry.

I flew to St. Vincent's, passing the city-operated VD clinic I'd visited twice in early July. A college student had given it to me and the green puss spewed out on the July 4th weekend when I was in bed with another girl. The penicillin worked very well and at the ten-day checkup the doctor pronounced me cured.

When I entered her room, Ellen was staring at the ceiling. She hadn't called her parents, her friends, or her roommates, only me.

I cried in shame as I told her the story. She listened wordlessly but I saw the tears running down her cheeks. When I finished she pulled her hospital gown up, revealing a furious 7-inch cut with six stitches holding it together. It ran almost from her navel to the top of her bush.

"You're not going to want me now, not like this."

"That's not true! You can stay in my apartment while you recover."

"I'm going home. My parents will take care of me."

She wouldn't take my telephone calls. After three days I gave up and never expected to hear from her again.

When I heard her voice on the phone, I was stunned. She was calling from work.

"Peter, it's Ellen. How are you?"

"I've been a wreck. I amso glad to hear your voice. How are you?"

"I saw the doctor on Saturday. The stitches can come out next Friday, but he said I was free to go out and I could come to work today. Can we have coffee?"

I couldn't get the image of the flaming red belly gash out of my mind. I checked with a doctor about the effects of gonorrhea and found out just how much damage it could do to a woman's reproductive systems.

We met at a restaurant in Brooklyn Heights that night.

Ellen told me how wonderful her co-workers had been while she was out: two of them had visited her in Ardsley and the firm had sent flowers. As far as anyone knew, including her parents and friends, she had a burst appendix.

During her convalescence she called a broker and on Monday had looked at apartments. She signed a lease that night and could move in September first.

I knew that Saturday was her birthday. Could we go out to dinner to celebrate?

"Peter, that is so sweet. Could we go to Emily Shaw's?" Located in the rural north of Westchester, Emily Shaw's was distinguished by its French menu and its high prices. Ellen said she had been there twice with her parents and loved it.

We toasted her twenty-third birthday and talked about the campaign, politics in general, her new apartment, and how glad she was to be back at work. She mentioned how sad her roommates were to see her move.

"Joan wanted to know if I am going to move you in."

I gulped. "What did you tell her?"

She paused. "That it was up to you."

She had no furniture. We bought a dresser, a dining table, and two chairs at the Salvation Army. I contributed a couch that my grandmother didn't need and made a Hollywood bed for a queen-sized foam mattress out of stair tread boards. We got a kitten and lived together for more than a year before breaking up. Even then we remained occasional lovers for almost two years, until we broke up when she fell in love with a fellow MBA student at NYU.

12
Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
Share this Story

Similar Stories

In Reverse Pt. 01 A going away party becomes intimate.in First Time
Study Buddy An older student seduces his young black tutor.in First Time
Ooh La La Pt. 01 Your shy French girlfriend wants to learn how to please you.in Audio
Explorations Laura and I discover each other.in First Time
A Handyman's Memoir Ch. 01 Getting to know Penny.in Erotic Couplings
More Stories