Sunburst

Note: For those of you familiar with my previous stories, this will be a change. In the case of my other submissions, the stories are about the sex. In this romance, the sex is about the story.

Introduction

My cousin, Ron Russell, suffered an accident at age ten. He has suffered total nerve damage to his left arm, shoulder to finger tips. It is not paralyzed, but simply limp and unresponsive. Since then he has habitually carried his left arm in a canvas harness. It has a strap around his chest, a strap over each shoulder, and then a double loop that supports his left arm, bent at the elbow, at upper forearm and wrist.

During Ron's Freshman year (about 1969) he enjoyed a friends-with-benefits relationship with Ellie, a more experienced young woman over one year his senior. She was at least partly attracted to Ron because of his eight-plus-inch erection. He'd named his dick Seymour because, he said, when you see it, you see more.

Ron told us (his wife, me and my wife) this story during an evening visit.

The following action takes place during his sophomore year in college. His girlfriend is Audrey Lyle, long-distance runner and daughter of John Lyle, a professor at the college and a close-to-full-blooded Cherokee Indian. Her mother is Maureen, a Caucasian woman that works in the county treasury. John and Maureen met Ron many weeks before this, and approve of him as their daughter's boyfriend. Audrey lives at home while Ron lives in an all-male dorm. The two have been getting pretty romantic lately, but Ron has not yet initiated sex. He is very self-conscious about his disability and the sunburst-like scars that mar the front and back of his left shoulder. He does not consider himself worthy of Audrey's physical love, even though they have both admitted to loving the other.

This feeling is so profound that it has had an actual psychological/physical effect on Ron's virility. Audrey became impatient and convinced him, with a little physical contact that was sensual though not sexual, that she was not repulsed by any part of his disability. As can be seen in the beginning, his psychological hang up has been, well, hung up.

Guys know this, but women may not. When there are two or more men in the shower, we almost never make reference to each other's equipment. I would guess women are the same about their breasts or figures, but I wouldn't know. Haven't cared enough to ask. Anyhow, another man may ask you about scars (from surgeries, for example) or kid you about hickeys or comment on your physique (with admiration, curiosity, or derisive kidding), but peckers are out of bounds. Size, especially, is off limits conversation-wise. If some other guy commented on your dick, you'd wonder immediately about his orientation.

So what happened the following Sunday evening might have been pretty embarrassing...

I had just finished my shower. I'd been alone, but Al and Terry Henry came in a few minutes apart. I paid no attention while I reviewed the subject matter for an essay test the next morning for Anthropology I. I struggled as usual with drying myself. Yes, I used a tight terry-cloth wrist band to hold the towel, but it was still far less efficient than being able to grip the towel. Especially for drying my right underarm and forearm.

The thought formed out of nothing that it would be nice to have Audrey here to help. With that, I remembered the sensation of her hands and lips on my right shoulder and chest, and the sight of her caressing my left arm.

"Holy shit! Keep that sumbitch away from me!"

"Whoa! Ronny! You sure must have had a happy thought!"

They startled me out of my distraction. I looked down. Seymour stood about eighty percent at attention, pointing stiffly at an angle toward the wall like a divining rod.

I'm sure I turned a few shades of red. But the last thing you do in a situation like that is cover it up or run off or in any way behave as if you're embarrassed. Even if you ain't proud of it, you better act like you ain't ashamed. The sharks will smell fear and rip you to shreds.

"Yeah, I was thinking about how nice it was when I showered with Ellie and she dried me off. Why? Jealous?" Yes, I lied. They did not need to know that thoughts of Audrey had hoisted my flagpole.

Terry replied hurriedly, "No! Just nervous! I'm not turning my back on that, that's for sure!"

Al remained casual. "Yeah, probably. You know, if you advertised that you were that well-equipped, you could get laid every night, twice on Saturdays, and she'd probably bring you breakfast in bed. Or they would."

"Good idea. Al, next time you're hiding in the girls' john in the student center, why don't you put some advertising on the walls for me?"

"Because I'm too busy writing advertising for me. Do your own work."

By that time Seymour relaxed almost back to complete quiescence. I finished drying off and put on the clean underwear I'd brought in.

"All right, Terry, it's been caged. You can pick up the soap now." And I went to my room. I lay on the bed and closed my eyes and imagined Audrey's hands on my stomach, kissing my chest. Ol' Seymour jumped up so quick he almost ripped a hole in the briefs. The problem seemed to be solved. I'd been wrong. Aud could do something after all.

The next morning when I got to her house, I did not tell her directly that the problem seemed solved.

"Audrey my love, do you think your folks would object if I took you on an overnight date Friday, assuming we can both get out of work?"

"I can, I'm sure, if I let 'em know today. What did you have in mind?"

"I thought I'd take you to some seedy flophouse in the old part of town and lock you up and do unspeakable shameful things to your body."

She chuckled. "That's the best offer I've heard all day. Go ahead and ask them. Ask them just like that. I want to see what they say." She did not ask if I thought I could make love to her now. I think she knew. More than that, I think she knew before I knew.

That evening I accompanied Aud to her house. We were both greeted warmly by Aud's parents; surprised warmth for me since they did not expect me. John invited me to sit and asked if I wanted something to drink, but I declined.

"Thank you, Sir, but no thanks. I do have to get going. But I wanted to ask you-slash-warn you that I wanted to take Audrey out on an overnight date Friday. Bring her back Saturday sometime."

John's eyebrows went up about halfway. "Oh? What's up?"

"Seymour!" was my immediate silent response. It stayed silent. "I thought I'd take her to a seedy flophouse in the old part of town, lock her up, and do unspeakable shameful things to her body."

John blinked. Twice. No other expression though. Maureen hid a smile. John spoke first. "Audrey is a grown woman, even if her actions often belie the fact..." he glanced slyly at her. She gave him a look of mock exasperation. "If it's okay with her, I don't see how we can object. But I'll hold you responsible for any medical bills that may result." Only later did I realize that comment might be a very serious warning about complications.

Maureen looked more concerned. "Ron, can you be finished with her before noon on Saturday? I'd planned to take her shopping."

"He will!" That from Aud.

I could not be trumped that easily. "I'd planned on it. I'll have to be at work at one on Saturday, and I'll need time to wash off the blood and bury the evidence. But I doubt she'll be in any shape for shopping."

"All right with me," John muttered, just loud enough to be heard. "Save me some money."

You can see why we got along.

That week took forever.

I made reservations in a motel in LaSalle, a small town just south of Greeley. It came highly recommended because they were satisfied if the register was signed as "so-and-so and guest."

Audrey'd asked me if she should bring anything other than her toothbrush, hairbrush, and a change of clothes.

"Iodine or Bactine. Bandages and tape. Aspirin. And any other pills you normally take. I'll provide the gag and handcuffs and instruments of torture."

She looked at me quizzically. "You're going to keep up this little game right to the end, aren't you?"

I looked genuinely puzzled. (I hoped I did. I tried.) "What game?"

Friday afternoon I walked Audrey home from the weight room. My weekend supplies were in my alternate gym bag--the one not permanently imbued with the scent of sweat socks and used jockstraps. We'd both kept the workouts easy and short, ("You'll need all your strength to survive what I'm going to do to you." "You're the one who'll need all his strength!"), so we weren't especially sweaty. We stayed only a moment at her house, just long enough for her to get her own bag, her purse, and a quick kiss from both parents.

I nodded approvingly. "That's good. The next time you see her, she'll be changed forever."

John muttered, "Hopefully for the better. But I guess it would have to be," which earned him another playful look.

As we left, Audrey handed me the keys to the Merc. "You know where this seedy flophouse is, so you drive. I'm durned if I'll drive myself to my own torture."

Twenty minutes later we were in the motel room. She looked around. "They're making flophouses of a much higher quality than I would have guessed." I turned up the heat and helped her off with her coat. There were two beds. I tossed the coat on the one closest to the door. She helped me with mine and tossed it on top of hers. We stood in the middle of the room and kissed one of the most passionate and unreserved kisses we'd ever shared. And Seymour perked up immediately, which abolished the last shred of doubt I'd had about that night.

"Do you want to shower first, or make love first? Or make love in the shower? Or sit around and talk about it for a while?" She didn't answer right away. Understandable. Tough choice. "I love you, Audrey. No man has ever loved a woman more than I love you. Whatever will please you, that's what we will do."

That earned me another kiss, even more passionate than the one before, if possible. But she still hesitated, looking around, uncertain where to begin.

"What's the matter Aud? You weren't really expecting handcuffs and whips, were you?"

"No. I'm just nervous. After that scene I put on last week, and now it's me that hesitates!" She sat down on the edge of the bed. I sat down next to her. "Ron, I've never been naked with a man before. And I've never been with a naked man before, either. Steve and I made love in the car. And we never got naked. I dropped my pants, or wore a skirt, and he unzipped. We had our hands in each other's clothes, and his hard-on in my hand, and my pussy in his, and then his dinghy in my thingie," she giggled, and I supplied the male equivalent. "But it was always dark and a little crowded and very urgent and passionate.

"This is so different! It's light and roomy and warm, and a nice bed and I'm sort of intimidated. One thing I've always liked about us is that our kissing and petting is more comfortable and relaxed. And now, stupidly, I find that very thing kind of intimidating!"

"Well, let's see what we can do to make you more relaxed." I walked over to the door and turned off the lights. As with most motels, soft light filtered through the drapes from the light outside. I walked over to her and extended my hand. She took it and I pulled her up, so she stood in front of me.

"Let's start where we've been before. Care to take off my shirt?"

She smiled with delight, and did so, starting with the harness.

In a few short minutes, we were both unclothed. She walked over to the door and flipped the light switch. I turned to face her. She was beautiful. She had a slight curve at the waist, with relatively narrow hips for a woman. Her shoulders were also narrow, which I knew. Her breasts were small and firm. The ribs were visible, just barely. I said she could have used a few pounds, but I don't know where she'd have put them. Everything was in perfect proportion to everything else. She needed only one last touch. I crooked my finger at her, smiling, and she walked to me. I moved her so she faced away from me and the doorway. By chance, we were both facing a three-quarter-length mirror on the wall. I pulled the band from her hair, releasing it from the ponytail, and moved my fingers through it, so it hung over her shoulders and back. I kissed her neck through her hair.

My erection made this a little awkward. I might skewer her in the back if I got careless.

She looked at herself in the mirror. "Not bad, if you like a stick figure with no boobs."

I pushed my erection down, and held myself against her back, my hand around her waist. "Angling for compliments, or seeking reassurance? Audrey, I intend that you will never lack the former, or need the latter. You are not a stick figure. You are svelte and athletically slender and incredibly sexy. And what do you call these if not boobs?" I slid the back of my thumbnail along the underside of her right breast. The nipple crinkled up at once.

"Those are itty bitty titties."

I cupped the right one in my hand and covered it, rubbing just a little.

"Anything over a handful is wasted."

While still looking at the two of us in the mirror, she reached behind her and took hold of my penis. It had receded a little, but responded immediately to her touch. Her eyes got big. Still holding it, she turned around and looked at it. "My God. You expect to put that into me? It'll never fit. I know my vagina is supposed to be flexible, but it's not made of rubber!"

"We'll take it slow. And I brought along some lubrication, just in case."

She laughed. "So did I! I brought Vaseline. What did you bring?"

"Three-in-One oil." That got the response I wanted, judging from the facial expression. "Hey, either that or axle grease! I wanted to bring Wesson Oil, but the cafeteria ladies were not helpful. Especially when I told them what I wanted it for."

She started laughing. "I can just see that! You asking a couple of grandmothers..." she laughed even harder, having trouble finishing the sentence, "...for some Wesson Oil to use..." a gasp or two, wipe eyes, choke, continue, "...as a sex lubricant!" She plopped down on the bed. She'd dropped me and was holding her sides. "Did any of them have a heart attack?"

"Nope. Actually, they wouldn't give me any Wesson Oil because they insisted Crisco works much better. But then they argued about how to apply it, and to which person. They got way too graphic for me, and I bailed out."

Something about that whole concept must have hit a nerve. Audrey laughed so hard she was crying in no time. I let her be, walked over and turned the heat up--it felt just a smidge too cool for naked bodies--and I sat down on the bed next to her and waited for the hysterics to wind down. Seymour already had.

Eventually she calmed down, and we started kissing, playfully at first, then with passion. Foreplay lasted quite a while. And we really did need that lubrication. She'd become wet with the foreplay, but still quite tight. She'd been celibate for five months, and I got the distinct impression that Steve offered nothing bigger than average, so she needed the extra help. And we did have to go slow. Ordinarily I suppose a couple would use the missionary position, at least at first. The man could hold himself up with one arm and use the other hand to put his penis into his partner. That wouldn't work for me.

So she helped. She applied the Vaseline to my erection, playfully rubbing the excess onto my crewcut. She fit my erection into her. I did not thrust, but let her control the penetration. It hurt at first. She didn't say so, but I could tell.

"Aud, shall I back out? I don't want to hurt you."

"Not a chance! You aren't getting out of this that easy! Besides, it won't be any easier later. I remember it hurt a little my first time, too. I got through it and found it worth the discomfort. I'll bet it'll be even more worth it this time!"

Finally I was in. It took a while, but was well worth the wait. I still did not thrust or move much at all. I let her adjust to it. Then, "Aud, I'm going to squash you for just a second."

"Won't be the first time."

"Will too! I've never squashed you before!"

"Not you, no. But I've been laid on before. And I must admit this bed is more comfy than the back seat of the Merc."

I rested on her for a second and then rolled us over so I lay on my back. Much better.

We made love twice. The first was not particularly successful--my fault. Lost control way too soon. But I made up for it the second time. She had never experienced oral sex before either and the tongue and lips caresses of her labia and clitoris brought a mixed reaction. Shocked at first. She almost asked me to stop. But the unexpected pleasures of her body took over, and she just laid back and arched her hips into the air and surrendered to me completely. I didn't keep at it too long because I wanted to make love to her, and when I stopped she grabbed Seymour and put him into her and we repeated our positions from the first time. That second time was outstanding. For both of us, judging from her behavior.

She sighed happily, smiling. "You were right. Twice is wonderful. And that other thing you did. I'm speechless. Did Ellie teach you that?"

"Of course. And any time you get the urge, you can return the favor."

"Hmmm. We'll see. I'll have to think about that for a while. Might be fun though. For me, I mean. I'm sure it will be fun for you." She sighed and lay quiet for a few minutes. "Steve and I didn't know what we were missing."

"Y'know, Love, sometimes I wonder what you ever saw in that guy."

She shrugged while still lying on me. Her forearms were resting on my chest. "He was a gentleman, and good-looking and well-built and smart and earnest and loving. A lot like you, in other words, though you have a weirder sense of humor and you're more relaxed. He loved me, and I loved him. We'd planned on getting married even before we finished college."

"So what happened? What did he do to get you to call it off?"

"Nothing! He called it off!" She sighed. "His parents called it off. Everything went fine until his parents met me and my parents. Oh, they said nothing at the time, but two days later he called me. To cancel our date. To cancel our engagement. Nearly in tears, from the sound of his voice, but he gave in to Mommy and Daddy. They called it off."

"Why?" I suspected, but it seemed so ridiculous that I could hardly credit the possibility.

"Because they found out I was, in their exact words, a half-breed. They would not have their son marry a half-breed. They couldn't stand the thought of their grandchildren being from the child of a mixed marriage." She looked wistful, but not grieving. I suppose she'd gotten the real sadness and humiliation out of her system long ago. I hoped so.

"Why, those provincial prejudiced pissants! That has got to be one of the stupidest things I have ever heard! Did it occur to them--or to Steven--that you are the wonderful and beautiful girl you are because you are of mixed descent?" I wouldn't use the term "half-breed." I'd heard it before, in high school, applied to one of my classmates whose parents were Mexican and white. It sounded stupid and denigrating then and it still did.

"I'm inclined to look that sonofabitch up and ..."

She put her hand over my mouth, gently but firmly. "No. Let's drop it, Ron. I don't care about him anymore. I love you. If you will make love to me again, it will abolish forever any lingering thoughts I may have about ol' what's-his-name." She kissed me, using lips and tongue on my lips, and my neck and chest and belly.