The Usual Disclaimer: This is a work of fantasy. All characters featured in sexual situations are over 18. The characters in these stories are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead or undead is purely coincidental. Do not try this at home.
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The names in this story are made up, of course. I'll refer to myself as "Billy" even though it has nothing to do with my actual name. It's something of an inside joke, and people who know who I am will get it, but it would give away too much if I shared that joke with you.
The events of this story took place several decades ago--far enough back that people actually said, "Behind every great man there has to be a great woman." Well, that was certainly true of my parents. My dad was well-known enough that if I used our actual first names, many of you could figure out exactly who we are. He held several powerful positions, but it was my mom who got him the first few high-profile jobs that built his career.
That was all years before I was born, when my older siblings had still lived at home. I recall attending their weddings, but otherwise my brother and sisters weren't really a part of my life. They had their own families and jobs, and were spread out all over the country. We'd see each other once in a great while, but my health prevented me and my mom from traveling as much as we might have otherwise.
I was a "preemie" baby. Six weeks before I was supposed to be born, I was out of the womb and straight into an incubator. Naturally I don't remember that, but I do have vague recollections of spending far too much time in hospitals as a child. More times than I could count, some doctor or nurse said it was "a miracle" that I had managed to survive at all.
It wasn't just my birth, either. My health was terrible throughout my childhood. I got severely ill dozens of times, my bones were brittle and tended to break easily, and I was scrawny and undersized until about the time I turned sixteen. Between illnesses and injuries, I was hospitalized nineteen times before I reached high school.
At least six times I almost died.
It was tough on my mom, but it was unbearable for my dad. He hated that feeling of powerlessness every time he visited me in the hospital. I could see it in his face, and his expression of helpless rage would haunt me for years. Not that either of us could do anything about it, of course. I could not will myself to better health any more than he could. Still, I felt that I had somehow let my father down.
I used that as motivation in my rehab, working hard so that I could make my father proud of me.
Those prolonged hospital stays cut into time I should have been in school, and I was held back in the second, fourth, and seventh grades. My parents brought in private tutors and my mother also tutored me after that last time I was held back. That summer was rough, but it was a major turning point in my life.
I started growing rapidly, and for the first time I began to be healthy more often than not. It felt like every week I was noticeably stronger than the week before. Under my mother's excellent tutelage I finally caught up on all the education I had missed. The schools allowed me to test out of the eighth grade entirely so that I started high school that fall instead.
It had taken an enormous amount of work, and there's no way I could have done it without all that help. Those tutors really knew their stuff and explained everything well. My mother might have been an even better teacher. It was wonderful news for me and my family, but I was already sixteen--two years older than almost all my classmates--when I started my first year of high school.
It was as if my body was trying to make up for lost time, then. I grew really fast that freshman year. When I started the year, I was the shortest guy in most of my classes. By the end of the year, I was the tallest. My bones thickened and grew much stronger all through that massive growth spurt, and it was the first time I went an entire year without breaking something. However, I was awkward all the time.
It took another year and a half before I started to become somewhat coordinated physically. I still wasn't permitted to participate in sports or PE. No one thought I was trying to get out of it. I'd had gruesome compound fractures at school in the fourth and sixth grades. Some of the other students who witnessed those horrific injuries had been left emotionally scarred and had required counseling.
At home we had exercise equipment that I was allowed to use, with supervision. Over the years I had poured gallons of sweat all over those machines as I struggled to rebuild my body after each injury. Those exercises were such a part of my carefully-regimented life that I kept doing them even when I was no longer getting sick or injured. I managed to put on fifty pounds of muscle mass, but at first I didn't notice.
My focus was always on my health, and being careful to avoid injury. Plus, I was always cautious with my exercises. I wasn't suddenly pushing heavy weights or anything like that, so the muscle developed gradually over the course of a year and a half. I think I took notice because I realized girls in my school were looking my way with obvious interest.
It wasn't as if I had no interest in girls prior to that point in my life, but my health had always pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. I was much more concerned with staying alive and trying to stay out of intensive care. Then I was finally strong and in good health, but I was eighteen and a junior in high school.
I couldn't date any of the girls in any of my classes because none of them were eighteen yet. In fact, many of them weren't even sixteen. Given my family's high profile, I simply could not take the risk of dating any of those underage girls.
So...I wound up getting involved with one of the teachers.
Now, this was before the internet, before cell phones, even before caller ID. Hell, people still used typewriters, and video cassette recorders were a new thing. So, sneaking around to hook up with Miss Winters meant we had to meet up and plan it in person. Our clandestine meetings were further complicated by the fact that she taught French and I wasn't even taking that language.
The only reason we got involved in the first place was that I ran into her outside of school, at the Montgomery Ward's store downtown. She assumed I was a college student, and she had only graduated from college two years earlier. I knew who she was, and when she started flirting with me I played along because I thought she was kidding.
When she pulled me into a dressing room and started kissing me, I realized that she wasn't kidding. I had the presence of mind to kiss her back. She was the first woman I ever kissed with tongue, and it was marvelous. After several minutes of hot kissing action, I felt the need to let her know who I was. She was shocked, but still visibly turned on.
"You won't tell anyone, will you?" she whispered nervously.
"Of course not," I replied, shaking my head and smiling at her. "We'd both be in trouble."
I was still smiling down at her as I shook my head and ran my hands down her sides. That was still novel for me--looking down at anybody. It wasn't like Miss Winters was particularly short. She shivered and then cocked her head.
"What are you thinking now?" she whispered.
"I can't believe I even got to kiss you," I whispered in reply. "You're so beautiful."
