She felt his hand on her leg and instinctively jerked away, but he put his hands on her hips and held her in place. "Hush," he soothed. "It's all righ...." He stared into her green eyes, which were wide with surprise, and ran his hand up her leg, over the scar. She watched him, mesmerized. She could only feel it in certain spots; there were a lot of dead nerves. She couldn't believe he was touching her there. When he lowered his head and kissed her leg, starting at the knee and slowly moving up. Helen smiled at me languidly. "Neither have I. It's nice."I searched her memory - mine now - and I saw that she was right. She had been used, but never loved. We kissed some more. There was no hurry. I held her close and stroked her, fondled her, explored her perfect body with my young, soft hands. She twisted and writhed against me, gasping and moaning, hissing and whispering half-words by turns. I stroked her breast - her perfect breast - through her garment, and realized that it had changed. More

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