Diana's Therapy
By Diana the Valkyrie
Diana meets a cute fellow who stutters but he gets better with therapy.


This is the fourth in the series of stories by Diana. I'd just 
like to emphasise that, although I am rather stronger than average, what 
follows is entirely a fantasy of mine. I made it up. It didn't actually 
happen. Although it would be nice if it did. I still haven't actually 
spoken to the guy on the underground. Maybe he'll read this and remember 
the girl who pretends not to look at him. 

If sex and violence isn't you, then don't read it. Actually, there 
doesn't seem to be much violence in this one, not against people, 
anyway. Also, if you're a minor definitely don't read it. 


(C) Diana the Valkyrie, 1996. Email me at valkyrie@thevalkyrie.com



Diana: 

As you might remember, I've been travelling to work on the tube each 
day, and I've been eyeing this rather cute blond guy who commutes the 
same journey as I do. We got as far as nodding to each other, as one 
does, and I had even started to give him a tiny smile, but he hadn't 
gotten that far yet. 

It was April, and in April, the sap rises stickily in the trees, the 
daffodils are at their fortissimo best, and deep inside Diana, 
something was stirring. Something wet, and squirmy, and deep, and itchy, 
and soft, and horny. A sort of wishing, yearning, longing, horniness. 
And I did a few calculations, and I decided that at the rate this was 
going, Cuteness might actually speak to me round about the turn of the 
century. 

Well, women aren't supposed to approach men, it's considered forward. I 
was brought up not to be forward, it isn't ladylike. But over the 
centuries, women have evolved ways to make it happen anyway; it's 
important for the survival of the species, and if women genuinely waited 
for men to make the first move, humankind would have died out long ago. 

I'm not really skilled at this, I'm not old enough or experienced 
enough. So I just did the best I could come up with. I gave up my seat 
on the tube to someone who looked old enough for it to be plausible, and 
strap-hung further along, just in front of Cuteness, flaunting myself at 
him, so he could get a good idea of what was there. Then the car swayed 
and jolted, I lost my grip on the strap, and accidentally fell into his 
lap. Oh dear, oh whoops, oh sorry. 

If you've read my earlier postings, you'll know it's pretty much 
impossible for me to lose my grip on anything. Once I've got my fingers 
and thumb wrapped round something, they stay wrapped, until I decide to 
let go. My hands are very strong, because I got into breaking six inch 
nails (Gran showed me how) at the age of fourteen, and I've been doing 
it ever since. It gives me a great feeling of self-confidence, and it 
makes my hands very hard, and extremely strong. Gran is the 
famous strong woman of the fifties, and I've inherited her power. I 
don't look especially strong, although I'm a bit broad across the 
shoulders and chest, and I'm rather heavier than the charts say I should 
be, so I tend to wear very feminine long sleeved ruffled blouses and 
swishy skirts, so there really isn't much of anything to see. But if I 
get your hand in mine, I can make you do pretty much anything I want, 
and I don't even have to use my full strength. Not that I'm that sort of 
girl. But it comes in useful if you get raped or mugged. 

So anyway, Cuteness got a lapful of Diana, and I wriggled around a bit 
and squirmed so he could get the full benefit. And then I managed to 
stand up again, and I gave him a big apology, and he said it was quite 
all r-r-r-r-right, he stuttered, oh no, he stutters, and then I thought 
now come on Diana, everyone has little difficulties, let's not be silly 
about this. Then he said that he knew how difficult it could be to stand 
upr-r-r-r-right sometimes, and I can't begin to explain how long it took 
him to say that, and I gave him my prettiest smile (not my sexy smile, I 
was saving that for later), and agreed that it wasn't easy, and it was 
jolly awkward sometimes when you were carrying a bag and needed 
something out of it, because you couldn't let go of the strap or you'd 
... 

You get the idea. We spent the next twenty minutes talking about the 
difficulties of commuting, as if there was no other topic in the world 
so interesting. Mostly me talking, actually, I don't know how you make 
small talk with a stutterer. And then I said "By the way, my name's 
Diana", and he told me he was W-W-W-W. W-W, W-w. W-Wi l-l-l, W-w-w-wi 
l-l-l-lliam, and not to call him B-B-B, and I said "Bill", and I 
laughed, and said if anyone ever called me Di I'd show them the rough 
edge of my tongue, and he said "I'm sure your tongue doesn't have any 
rough edges", and he had a bit of trouble with the R, and then I 
pretended to blush (you do that by bending your head down and putting 
your hand in front of your face), and he realised how what he'd said 
could be interpreted, so he blushed too, only genuinely, bright 
pillarbox red. 

And then his station came up, and he had to push past me, and I made it 
as difficult as I could so he really had to press against my backside 
very hard, and I turned to face him as he squeezed past, which shoved my 
breasts into him, and if a girl can't use the ancient weapons that 
Mother Nature furnishes, what can she use? And then my station came up, 
and I spent the rest of the day thinking what I should have said and 
done. And should I have interrupted him when he was trying to say Bill? 
How do you handle talking to a stutterer? Still, it was a few years 
before the end of the century, and at least we'd introduced ourselves. 



William: 

She was a very pretty blonde, much too pretty, and so golden, so blonde, 
I thought. Every time I saw her, my heart leaped into my mouth and my 
tongue swelled up to ten times normal size. And then, after I'd been 
seeing her on the train for several months, we started nodding 
acknowledgement to each other, and I wished I could say something to 
her. But I can't, I really can't. R and W give me the most trouble, and 
often L. So it's terribly hard for me to have the name William. But I 
also have problems with B and P. It comes and goes, of course. Well, it 
gets more worse and less worse. It gets especially bad when I'm nervous, 
of course, and if you'd seen her, you'd understand why she made me 
nervous, just looking at her. She looked a vision of femininity, soft 
and gorgeous, every man's dream. In fact, I used to dream about her 
sometimes, on purpose, just before I fell asleep. Erotic dreams. In 
which she did erotic things with me. 

So one day, she gave up her seat to a grey-haired man, and I thought 
she's kind and nice, too, I bet she's married, or got a steady 
boyfriend, and she stood in front of me, hanging on to the strap above 
as the car swayed and rocked, and I didn't have to look very far in 
front of me to see a sight I wanted to remember to my dying day. As her 
body was thrown around by the train, I could see her breasts pushing out 
her ruffled blouse much further than I would have thought possible, and 
I had an erection then and there, just thinking about her breasts. 

And then she fell on top of my erection, and I almost creamed myself. 
Oh, god. Like a gift falling from heaven. And she apologised, and tried 
to get off me, but she couldn't, so I had to help her, except what do 
you get hold of in a woman? Well, I held her waist and helped her up, 
and all the time I wanted to pull her down. She apologised again, and I 
had to say something, I couldn't just remain silent and smile, like I 
usually do. 

I try to plan what I'm going to say, so I can avoid the difficult words 
and letters, but my mind was still spinning from having her on my lap, 
and all I could think of was "That's all right", and I got past the L in 
all, but then the R in Right blocked me. Which is silly of me, because I 
know that an R directly after an L is one of my worst traps, an accident 
waiting to happen. 

You probably don't know what it's like to stutter. Most people take 
reading, writing and speaking for granted. I'm all right on the first 
two, but speaking is like walking down a path riddled with land mines 
and obstacles, some of which you can see and avoid, and some of which 
blow up unexpectedly in your face. I never know when a normally safe 
consonant, like D or T, isn't going to suddenly rebel and refuse to get 
out of my mouth.  But sometimes a normally hazardous letter like R or W 
will behave itself, and I can say my own name. Imagine, if you can, that 
the thought of saying your own name fills you with trepidation and fear. 

So, I'm handicapped. That's what people tell me, anyway. I don't think I 
am, I just have this problem speaking sometimes, everyone has some 
little problem. Some people go bald, is that a handicap? No, it's just a 
little problem, because if you bang your head on something, it hurts 
more. And I really hate it when people feel sorry for me, do you feel 
sorry for someone who's bald? No, you learn to live with it. You write 
instead of speaking, for example - I use email instead of the telephone. 
I just can't use a telephone. For me, telephones don't exist. The only 
reason I have one, is to connect to my modem. 

Oh, and I'm not "orally challenged", either. I've got a stutter, OK? 
It's just a stutter. Pompey had a terrible stutter, you know, and he 
became an orator. So did Napoleon. So did Julius Caesar. So did Marilyn 
Monroe, and Winston Churchill. It isn't that big a deal, it doesn't 
affect me that much. Who am I trying to kid. It's ruining my life. 

Especially in one important area. Girls. I can't chat to girls the way 
everyone else can. My stutter gets ten times worse, especially if she's 
pretty. And not being able to chat to girls, closes down a very 
important part of life. I expect I'll never fall in love, get married, 
all that stuff. 

So the Blonde Vision of Feminine Loveliness started talking about how 
difficult commuting was, and how the trains never ran on time, and how 
it was worse for women because if you needed something out of your bag, 
and I just looked up at her and wished and wished. Then she told me her 
name was Diana, and stopped, so I knew that I had to respond, and why 
haven't I changed my name to something at least pronounceable? I got 
past the W with considerable effort, and then I hit the L and started 
sinking fast, and I stopped, closed my eyes, I find that works 
sometimes, swallowed, and managed to get it out. "And don't call me B-B" 
Aaargh! The B got me trapped solid like a bear-trap, but she guessed 
"Bill?" and I nodded, and she laughed, and I wanted desperately to make 
her laugh some more. 

So she said "And don't call me Di, or I'll show you the rough edge of my 
tongue" and I gallantly said "I'm sure your tongue doesn't have any 
rough edges", and the R let me through with barely a struggle, and then 
she blushed, and then I realised what I'd just said, and I blushed 
beetroot and wished my stutter was ten times worse so I couldn't make 
faux pas like that, and then thank god my station came up, so I stood 
up, and she was in front of me, so I had to press against her to get by, 
and that's a feeling I'll treasure till the day I die. And then I went 
to work. 

I spent the whole day replaying that episode, thinking what I should 
have said, words I should have used that don't have so many hazards, and 
endlessly repeating in my mind that appalling gaffe that I'd left her 
with. And most of all, remembering what it had felt like to push past 
her. 

She was soft, but solid. It's hard to describe. How can someone be firm 
and soft at the same time? Her hair was soft, soft as silk, her bottom 
was firm and solid like marble. Then she turned to face me as I pushed 
past her, and I could feel her breasts, which managed to be firm and 
soft at the same time, and her legs, which were hard, like a statue. The 
overall impression was of softness, yet with hardness inside. If I sound 
confused, that's because she confused me totally. 


Diana: 

I didn't see him on the train that evening. But there he was again the 
next morning, so I smiled at him and sat down next to him. "Hi, 
William", I said. "H-h-h" he stuttered. Oh dear. How do you communicate 
with someone like this? Then he pulled out a tiny little computer, 
opened it up, and started typing on it. He pointed to the screen, and I 
had to move closer to him in order to see it, you couldn't see it from 
the side, and I'm afraid I got a bit closer to him than I really needed 
to, and let my hair tickle his face a bit, and I saw something stir 
slightly inside his trousers. On the screen, it said "Hello, Diana!". 
"Hey, that's a neat little thing" I said, "What is it?" He typed on the 
tiny keyboard, his fingers flew so fast I couldn't follow them. I wish I 
could type as well as that. No, on second thoughts, I'm glad I can't. 
"It's a Psion, I use it all the time" he typed. I pulled out the Filofax 
from my handbag, and couple of paper tissues and a six inch nail fell 
out. I scooped them all up quickly and stuffed them back in, and showed 
him how his little computer was actually smaller than my Filofax. 

"Why are you carrying that big wood nail around with you" he typed. Um. 
I didn't want to start lying to him, and I certainly didn't want to tell 
him the truth, not at this stage, anyway. I carry a six inch nail 
around, because you have no idea how much it boosts my self-confidence 
when I'm a bit down, to pull one out and break it in half. It also 
turned out to be a great way to intimidate a roomful of men (see Diana 
Pulls it Off). Diana, when you're in this position, change the subject. 
"Oh, you should see some of the junk I've got in here", I said, pulling 
out a Mars bar well past its sell-by date, a mixture of biros and 
pencils, a mirror, a toothbrush (oops), a lipstick, a purse and a dead 
mouse. "How did that get in there? Oh, I remember, I was going to get 
someone in the office to try to fix it for me." "I'll fix it", he typed. 
I kept wanting to type things back to him, instead of speak, 
communicating like this felt so funny. I gave him the mouse, and pulling 
the wire out brought out a headscarf with it and more tissues, and a 
tampon (you never know when you might need one in a hurry). I hastily 
stuffed it all back in, there are things at the bottom of my handbag 
that should ne'er be seen by mortal man. We talked more, in this strange 
fashion, and I found out that he was a writer for a magazine, a computer 
magazine, and I told him that I was an executive at a bank, which is 
very approximate, although actually true, except that it isn't quite a 
bank, and I'm not quite an executive, but I thought maybe I'll explain 
more later. 

And then his station came up, and he closed up his Psion, and walked off 
with my dead mouse. And I wondered if we were doomed to meet only on 
trains, and talk via his computer. 


William: 

She was there again today on the train. Her coat was open, and she was 
wearing a sweater that hugged her lovely body, that I remembered so well 
from pushing past her, and she sat down next to me and said hello to me. 
I tried to say hello back, but the H grabbed my tongue and wouldn't let 
go no matter how hard I pulled, but then I had a brilliant idea, and I 
pulled out my Psion and typed what I wanted to say. It worked even 
better than I'd expected, because she leaned towards me to read what I'd 
typed, and her soft blonde hair brushed against my face, and her perfume 
worked it's way up my nose, into my brain, and then straight down to my 
groin, which responded in the obvious way, and it was fortunate that I 
had my Psion covering it up so she couldn't see. We talked a bit, and 
then she showed me how her Filofax was bigger than my Psion "Heavier 
too," I typed, "and you're in trouble if you lose it, whereas I have a 
backup." As she pulled her Filofax out of her bag, a whole bunch of 
other things came too, including a great big wood nail, so I asked her 
why she carried that around, and she showed me some of the other junk in 
her bag, including a dead mouse. Who carries a dead mouse around with 
them? A serious computer user, that's who. I offered to try to fix it 
for her, and she said yes, although I don't know the first thing about 
fixing hardware, but I had a plan. She said she was an executive at a 
bank. I knew she had to be more than just a secretary, she was so 
intelligent, so self-confident, so beautiful and so unattainable. I bet 
she earned twice what I did. 

I took the mouse in to the office, swapped it for the one on my 
computer, and then called the PC people to fix it. And I spent the whole 
day trying to remember what her perfume smelt like. 


Diana: 

This was getting a bit like "Brief Encounter". I sat next to him again, 
and he opened his Psion, and it said "Good morning, Diana". That's 
right! His little computer spoke to me. I guess he'd recorded it. So I 
got him to show me how that works, and then I got him to show me how the 
rest of it works, and it's got a word processor, and a spreadsheet, and 
it's absolutely the most darling little computer you've ever seen, and 
I'm going to get Nigel to get me one. Then he pulled out my mouse, he'd 
fixed it, and I told him he was wonderful, men like being told that, and 
he went a bit red. And I wondered, how do we get from here to fucking? 
Sorry, that's a non sequitur, but it being spring and all, and the 
daffodils and stuff, you know? What did you suppose that girls spend 
most of their time thinking about, knitting? And then he showed me the 
screen again, and he was asking me out to lunch, so I said "I'd love 
to", and we agreed to meet at one. Nigel was *ever* so surprised when I 
told him I was going out to lunch, because that's usually his role in 
the Diana/Nigel arrangement, but I told him not to worry, this was 
private, not business, and he looked ever so relieved that I hadn't 
found a way to dispense with his services, so I gave him a little tickle 
under the arms, which I think I enjoyed rather more than he did, because 
it reminded him of what I did to him there before (see Diana Pulls it 
Off), which was rather painful. Still, it can't hurt to remind him of 
his position, occasionally. 


William: 

I found a way to speak to her. I recorded some things on the Psion, and 
kept trying till I got them spot on. The next day, I played "Good 
morning, Diana" to her, and she was absolutely delighted. And I showed 
her some of the other neat things I had on the Psion, and she loved it, 
she said she had to get one, and when I gave her the mouse, she was ever 
so pleased, and then I sprung my surprise. I'd typed it in before, so I 
just pulled up the document, and there it was, asking her to lunch. She 
turned to me and gave me her lovely smile, and nodded, and said "Yes, 
I'd love to". 


Diana: 

Lunch was great. We met near London Wall, and went to a lovely little 
Italian place he knew about. It was leisured and unhurried; the staff 
acted like time was not an issue, which it wasn't. I hate it when they 
hurry you to get you out, so they can get more customers in. I had pasta 
in a lovely tomato and cheesy sauce, and thick, strong coffee 
afterwards. We didn't talk much, we just ate in a companionable silence. 
I didn't like to think about what a mixture of stammering and spaghetti 
would do, so I just smiled and said how great the food was. We finished 
at three, and I offered to pay half, but let him pick up the bill, and 
said "I'll pay next time." I got back to the office to find Nigel still 
lunching. Wow, that man really knows how to lunch. 


William: 

Lunch was a disaster. I had trouble finding the place we were supposed 
to meet, and I was nearly late, which would have been awful, then we 
went to an Italian, where the service was so slow, it was terrible. I 
kept trying to think of something to say, something that wouldn't nail 
my tongue to a W, R or L, but each time I composed something, my nerve 
failed. She said she thought the food was OK, she must have thought I 
was a complete moron. By three o'clock I was getting really worried, I 
knew I'd get into trouble for getting back so late, and I guessed she 
would too. She offered to split the bill, but I gallantly shook my head, 
and she said "OK, I'll pay next time". Next time? There was going to be 
a next time after this disaster? The gods be praised! I'm not worthy, 
I'm not worthy. 


Diana: 

That evening, I phoned up Gran to get some advice. She gave me two 
excellent ideas. One was to research stammering, find out a bit about 
it, and the other idea was to invite him round for a home-cooked dinner. 
because then, afterwards ... well, afterwards who knows? Gran says 
there's two ways to a man's heart, one of them being through his 
stomach. I didn't ask her what the other way is, I think I already know. 
So I searched around the web, and I found the National Stuttering 
Project, the Stuttering Foundation of America, and another one for 
Canada,  and I got some tips on how to speak with a stutterer (don't 
finish words for them, which I'd already broken). And I found out that 
it's connected with anxiety, and there might be some connection with 
shyness, although maybe it's stuttering that causes shyness, not the 
other way round, and that some words cause stuttering worse than others, 
and there are therapies for it, but that stutterers (sorry, that should 
be people who stutter) should expect to always be people who stutter. 
Telephones are the worst. Stressful situations make stuttering worse. 
About 1% of adults stutter, 4% of children. The opposite of stuttering 
is fluency. 

The next day, I started talking to William about stuttering, and it 
seemed that even the little research I'd done was more than he'd known. 
He said he'd always tried to avoid the subject, it was just too full of 
angst for him, and I asked what angst was, and he explained, and I timed 
it just right and invited him round for a home-cooked lunch on Saturday 
to thank him for the lunch, I said, and his face lit up and he accepted. 


William: 

I always thought girls were just full of thoughts about clothes and 
makeup, and she was certainly changing my mind about that. The next day 
on the train, she started explaining me about stammering, and told me 
that there were over half a million people in the UK that had the same 
problem as me, and she seemed to understand about how speaking was for 
me just a long series of painful obstacles. I've never met anyone who 
knew how I felt before, she seemed to really understand, and I hadn't 
even explained it to her. And she told me that I wasn't a stammerer, 
that I was a person who stutters, just like she isn't a blonde, she's a 
person with blonde hair, the difference being that it isn't just that 
one attribute that defines you. And when she asked me round to try her 
cooking, I didn't have a chance to think about it, I just said yes 
without thinking, and it was only afterwards that I realised that she'd 
asked me for a date and I'd said yes. What a girl! 

Diana: 

Well, it wasn't going to have to wait for the next century after all. He 
was coming round to my flat this Saturday, and if I can't seduce him 
there, my name isn't Diana. I'm not that good a cook, but I can 
do roast chicken very well indeed, so that was what we'd have. And roast 
potatoes, roast parsnips and cabbage, very lightly boiled. Chicken a la 
Diana, I call it. And I got a couple of bottles of Liebfraumilch to go 
with it, I thought it might loosen his tongue a bit. As it were. Because 
I couldn't really see us using his little computer for communicating. 
And Blue Mountain coffee beans, I much prefer a Proper Cup of Coffee 
from a Proper Coffee Pot. And I got myself ready, very carefully. If I 
did this wrong, he was going to be so scared, there wouldn't be another 
chance. A fragrance bath, perfume in all the critical places, including 
behind each ear (for kissing), between my breasts (in case we got to 
petting), and a touch on my Mons Veneris, in case I hit a home run. Then 
a teddy (gives a much better effect than a bra, at least on me it does) 
and a silk blouse without ruffles, so you can see what's there, and a 
long skirt, which I think looks sexier than a short one, and medium 
heels, which says more than low heels, but not as much as high heels. 

William: 

I could hardly wait until Saturday. I spent the time practising 
sentences, like "That was ever so nice, Diana", and "Mmmh, delicious", 
so I'd get them fluently. I knew she'd be a good cook, she seemed to be 
so confident and competent at everything she did. I bought a couple of 
bottles of wine, because I know that's expected, and I got a big bunch 
of flowers for her, purely because I wanted to give her a big bunch of 
flowers, because she was such a beautiful flower herself, and I wish I 
could tell her that. And at one on Saturday, I turned up at her front 
door, and had a major fight with my right hand, which didn't want to 
ring her bell. I wanted to just run away, I can't handle this, I 
thought. Then I thought of facing her afterwards on the train, and I 
knew that I would have to emigrate to South America if I stood her up, 
so I rang the bell, which didn't work, so I knocked, but the first time 
I was so nervous I fumbled it, so I knocked again, properly. 

Diana: 

Suddenly, the bell rang, and there was a torrent of knocking on the 
door. I opened it and nearly got his fist in my face. Then I got a 
faceful of flowers. So I asked him in, sat him down, and got a glass of 
sherry into his hand. That's what I was taught to do with guests as a 
girl, and that's what I did. I put the flowers in water, and we chatted 
a bit. 

William: 

She answered the door as I was still knocking, and I was caught off 
balance. She has a great knack for catching me off balance. I couldn't 
think what to say (later on, I thought maybe "Hello" would have been 
suitable, but you don't know what it's like to stutter), so I gave her 
the flowers. She was ever so pleased, and invited me in. She put them in 
a big vase, and their flowery fragrance mingled with her musky perfume 
to fill the room. I got a chance to look at her as she bustled about the 
place, and she looked wonderful. I'd never really had a chance to look 
at her before, she always wore a coat or a jacket, but now she was 
wearing just a silky blouse, and I could see a lot more, and I liked 
what I saw. 

Her shoulders were very broad for a woman, or else she was wearing 
shoulder pads, but I don't think so, her shoulders looked very natural, 
and I wanted to touch them, feel them. When she had her back towards me, 
I could look at her carefully without her realising. I could see how her 
body tapered down to a narrow waist, especially narrow by contrast with 
her wide shoulders. Then it flared out again to broad hips, then in 
again to her legs, which reached all the way down to the ground. She was 
wearing a long, full, pleated skirt, and nylons, and medium-high heels, 
and her legs were like sculpted in marble. She was all curves, all 
contrasts, all woman. When she turned round to face me, I tried not to 
look too obviously, but it was difficult to take my eyes off her. The 
main difference between the rear view and the front view, was in the 
rear view, her bottom swelled out toward me, while in the front view, 
she had a flat stomach down to her hips. Above the waist, the exact 
opposite; her back was flat, but her front was far from flat, very far 
from flat. I tried very hard not to stare at her breasts, but although I 
had my eyes focused on her face, for politeness, my brain was focused a 
lot lower. She must have been wearing a bra, but it must have been a 
very natural sort of bra, because her breasts had a very natural bounce 
to them, sort of perky and jiggly. And they pushed forward more than I'd 
remembered from our previous encounters, a lot more, maybe that's 
because she wasn't wearing a jacket. 

And then she smiled, and I really did focus on her face. And she said 
"How are you., William?" and I said "Fine, thank you, how are you, D-d-
d-d" Oh no, not her name please, not that, anything but that, I've got 
to be able to say her name, I can't substitute for that. She waited 
while I fought with the word, and finally got it out. "I'm great", she 
said, and I wanted to say, yes, you really are, but I held my tongue, 
besides, "really" isn't a word I would expect to be able to say. Then 
she offered me a glass of sherry, and I thought "Sherry, how civilised, 
but how completely unpronounceable", so I said "Yes, p-p-p-p. Great." 
She brought the glasses and put them on the Long John, and we sat at 
each end of the settee, and sipped sherry. "I never told you my other 
name, it's Diana Lorinda", and I instinctively knew I'd have trouble with 
her middle name. So I wanted to tell her my name, "William Rawlinson", and 
it's a very ordinary sort of a name, but it contains two Ws, two Ls (the 
double L counts as one when you say it) and one R. But you can see the 
problem. So I thought, lets explain it to her. "There's some things I 
find hard to say", I said. "Anything that's got these things in." and I 
traced out on the table, R, L and W. "And not so hard, still not easy" 
and I traced out M and N. She nodded, and got a sheet of paper, and 
wrote down those letters. "Any more?" she asked. "Uh, sometimes D and T, 
sometimes B and P. It's the sounds, not the l-l-l. Letters. So, I can 
say 'tall', cos you don' say the, the, the, things at the end." She 
nodded. "It must feel terrible for you, never knowing when you're going 
to get a block." Yes, a block, that's exactly what it felt like, she did 
understand, she must have stuttered once. "Did you ever stutter?" "A 
little bit, when I was a girl, nothing really. And I don't now, of 
course." 

Diana: 

I saw him staring at me as I put the flowers in the vase. He thought I 
couldn't see, but there was a mirror, and I saw him staring at my back, 
my bottom and my legs. He looked like he was enjoying the view, and 
shifted a bit to ease the tightness in his trousers, and I thought 
"Diana, we're onto a winner here." So I turned round and stood facing 
him; if he liked my back, he'd love my front. I'd dressed very 
carefully; no bra, but I was wearing a teddy under my bra, so it wasn't 
too obvious. So without the bra to hold me in, I was sticking out a bit 
more than usual, and without the constraint, I jiggled a bit more than 
usual. And no jacket, so I wasn't playing peek-a-boo with him. I stood 
while he sat, and I braced my shoulders back a bit, to increase the 
effect. My breasts aren't huge, but they're plenty big enough; people 
notice them, especially if I help them along a bit. 

Then after I was sure he'd seen everything I wanted him to see, I sat 
down opposite him, so he could still enjoy the view, and we talked a 
bit. I told him my surname, and he didn't ask me about Gran.
It isn't that unusual a name. Then he told me about his stutter, and how 
certain letters are worse for him, and R is one of the worst, also L and 
W, and sometimes D. So he'd have trouble with my name, I suppose. I 
asked him his name, and he grinned ruefully and wrote it down. William 
Rawlinson. Wow. No wonder he didn't want to say it! I wondered if it was 
just bad luck that his name had all the worst letters in it, or if there 
was more to it than that. He looked puzzled, and asked how it could be 
more than bad luck, so I explained that maybe R, L and W are difficult 
because they're so important in his name, and he looked aghast. He'd 
never thought of that before, and the implication was obvious, well, it 
was to me, anyway. Then he told me that M and N were also a big problem, 
and he's got three of those in his name. QED. 

Then dinner was ready, and we moved over to the dining table, and he 
told me that it was ever so nice, and delicious, and then he admitted 
he'd been practicing what to say, and I laughed, and he laughed too, and 
he didn't stutter when he laughed. And we had a lovely lunch, the roast 
chicken had come out perfect, and he'd never had roast parsnips before, 
they're sweet and nutty. No dessert, I don't like sweet things, and we 
took the coffee back to the settee to sit and enjoy it. I sat with my 
legs tucked under me, both hands round my cup, and wondered what the 
next move ought to be. 

William: 

She's a great cook, of course. No surprise there, I knew she'd be a 
great cook. But what did surprise me, was there was only one course; no 
starter, no dessert. She explained that by doing that, she could 
concentrate on the main thing, and get that right. And the wine she'd 
chosen was just right; I'd brought completely the wrong wine, I think. 
She said she'd use it some other time. I thought, I hope there are other 
times. Then we sat on the settee for coffee; she explained it was 
Jamaican, and she ground the beans and percolated it herself because it 
came out much better that way, and I have to admit the smell was better 
than anything I'd ever smelled. 

We sat on the settee, facing each other. She kept her eyes on me the 
whole time, she didn't glance around the room at all, she just kept on 
gazing at me with those lovely eyes.  I could see her breasts straining 
against her blouse, and wondered whether I had the courage to do 
anything about it. Of course, I didn't. nor did I say very much, words 
are my enemies. Except, in a pause in the conversation, I said "You're 
beautiful, you know." I didn't plan it. It just popped out. 

Diana: 

He told me I was beautiful, well, that's an exaggeration, I'm too thick-
set to be beautiful, but I know I'm not ugly, and men do look at me, 
especially when I make an effort to be lookable, and I thought, "Diana, 
let's assume that's an opening gambit". So I crawled along the settee 
until I was close to him, and I held out my hand, and he took it in his, 
and kissed it, and then I pulled his hand back to me, and I kissed his 
hand. And then we looked at each other for a long time, and I wondered 
if he realised what he was supposed to do next, and then I realised he 
was scared of me. It must be terrible to stutter. He can't be sure of 
communicating in the ordinary human way, he can't debate, he can't 
argue, he can't tell people things. It must all be bottled up inside 
him, unable to find any escape. And it must make it so difficult 
socially. "William, have you ever had a girlfriend?" He shook his head. 
So I got really close, and put my head next to his, and kissed him, very 
softly, on the lips. "Put your arms round me, William. You don't have to 
say anything." He did, and we kissed again, a bit harder. I pushed my 
tongue out, and he pulled back a bit, startled. "You're a virgin, aren't 
you William?" He nodded, and looked down at his feet. "Have you ever 
kissed a girl before?" He shook his head. Gosh, I'd have to show him 
everything. This was going to be fun. I got closer, and kissed him 
again, this time I put my hands on his waist and tickled him gently, 
then brought my hands round to the small of his back, and scratched it, 
just where your tail would be if you were a cat. That's one of the best 
scratching places, and William loved it. "Scratch me there, William." 

He scratched my back as I scratched his, then I moved my hand up his 
back, rubbing as I went. "It would be better if your hand was against my 
skin" I murmured in his ear, and I pulled my blouse out from my skirt, 
and pulled my slip up, so he could get inside. When his hand touched my 
back, I jumped slightly, it felt like an electric shock on my back. I 
leaned into him, letting his body feel my weight. My breasts pressed 
against his chest, and I pulled his shirt up and let my hands roam over 
his body underneath as my mouth pressed against his, and my tongue arm-
wrestled against his. 

William: 

Well. Well. Obviously telling her how beautiful she was, was the right 
thing to do, because she came close and kissed me. I must have shown my 
inexperience, because she asked me if I'd had a girlfriend before, and I 
had to admit that I hadn't, and I was afraid she'd laugh, but she 
didn't, she got even closer, and her hair tickled my face, and her 
breasts pressed against me, and she kissed me again. Then I felt her 
hands tugging at my shirt, then I felt her hands on my back, and it was, 
like, bliss. And, with her mouth on mine, I couldn't speak. I mean, 
there was no possibility of speaking. You can't imagine how wonderful 
that feels. And she asked me to scratch her back, so I did, then she 
pulled her blouse up so I could get my hand inside, and I rubbed her 
back. Her skin felt like silk, and she mewed like a cat as I touched 
her. Her hands were turning my brain to mush as she touched me here, 
touched me there, her hands on my waist, my back, then coming round to 
the front, brushing against my chest hairs. This was bliss, this was 
heaven, this was paradise. And I wanted to make her feel the same way, 
so I tried to copy what she was doing to me, and she mewed even more, 
and I felt her tongue against mine, and I pushed back. 

And then suddenly she pulled away, and I was scared that I'd done 
something wrong, but she was smiling. 


Diana: 

Woo! Hang on a minute, this is happening a bit fast. He's a quick 
learner, but if I let him go that fast, it'll all be over in a few 
minutes. He doesn't know how to control himself, I'm sure, this is his 
first time. Never mind, I can handle him. "More coffee?", I said. He 
nodded, so I went to the kitchen and poured us both another cup, and 
brought it back. I sat down on the settee, and tucked my blouse back 
into my skirt. He looked a bit disappointed at that, so I smiled at him, 
and said "It untucks again quite easily", and he grinned, and made a 
grab at me, which I evaded deftly. He stood up and plunged down at me, 
but I slipped sideways along the settee, and stood up. This had 
possibilities. 

He got himself off the couch, and came at me. I giggled, and ran round 
the settee, with William in hot pursuit. He can't talk much, so I 
thought, let's have a bit of action instead. He wasn't very graceful, he 
wasn't going to be able to catch me, so I slowed down a bit, and he 
caught up, and just as he was about to catch me, I suddenly stopped and 
turned, and he slammed into me. I'm harder than I look, and heavier too, 
about 80 kilos, which is 175 pounds, about 50 pounds more than a girl my 
height is supposed to be, but it's well distributed, I mean it isn't all 
on my bum. Anyway, he bounced off me, but I grabbed him as he bounced 
and let myself  fall on top of him, which was a bit of a mistake, 
because I think the impact knocked the wind out of him, maybe I should 
have arranged this with me underneath. Too late now. I lay on top of him 
on the carpet, and started kissing him, and after a few minutes, he'd 
gotten his breath back and started kissing me back. Then I brought my 
knee up so it pressed into his groin, not hard, I didn't want to hurt 
him, but enough so he'd know it was there. And I drifted my hands over 
his body, and felt him tugging my blouse and slip up again. A quick 
learner. Then I felt his hands on my back and sides, and I just let 
myself dissolve in blissful sensuality. 


William: 

She came back with the coffee, but I wanted her more than any drink, so 
I lunged at her, but she laughed and moved out of my reach, so I stood 
up, and had her trapped in front of me, but as I came down to claim my 
prize, she moved sideways and stood up, laughing. So I struggled off the 
settee, and went for her again, but then she danced round the back of 
it, and I chased her. It must have looked odd, me chasing Diana round 
and round the settee, but we were both laughing so hard we couldn't 
talk, and then I caught up with her just as she stopped and turned, and 
I thought I'd knock her over, but luckily I didn't, I fell over myself, 
with her on top of me. And I can tell you, although the impact winded me 
totally, it's very nice falling underneath a girl like Diana, all 
solid female flesh. Golly, she was heavy, though. Not that I minded. By 
the time I recovered, she was kissing me again, and I was having trouble 
breathing, and then she brought her knee up between my legs, but it 
didn't hurt, it felt great, and I got my hands back on her body, and I 
wondered what her breasts would feel like. 

She was still on top of me, lying on me, and it began to feel a bit 
painful. The floor was very hard, and Diana wasn't as soft as I'd have 
expected, and she was a lot heavier than I would have expected. Still, 
you can't have too much of a good thing, and Diana was the best thing 
I'd ever met. 

Diana: 

I had my full weight on him, and I could feel him starting to have 
trouble with that. Damn this heavy body of mine. I'm not overweight, 
honestly, when I look into a mirror there really isn't any flab, and I 
can't pinch the flesh of my waist between my thumb and finger. But I am 
heavy, I know that, and I guessed I was 15 or 20 kilos more than 
William, who was medium height, slight build. So I rolled off him, and 
rolled him over on to me. That also meant I could get my arms right 
round him, and my hands up and down his whole back, and he shook as I 
stroked him there. He tried to roll off me, but I wouldn't let him, and 
I brought my legs up and round his, to help anchor him in place. Then I 
realised what I was doing, and I said to myself "Diana, calm down, 
careful, girl." And then I let him roll off me, and he asked me if I was 
OK, and I said I was, but did we have to roll around on the floor? 


William: 

Unh. Maybe you can have too much of a good thing. I couldn't breathe 
with her weight on me, so when she rolled off me, I let her. But then 
she pulled me on top of her, and her hands felt like ice and fire on my 
back, but I knew I must be hurting her with my weight, so after a couple 
of false starts, I rolled off her and said "You OK, Diana?" And she said 
she was fine, but suggested that we roll around on something softer than 
the floor. And when I asked "What?", she led me into her bedroom. 

I've never been in a girls bedroom before. I don't know what I expected, 
but it didn't look like a girl's bedroom, I mean, it didn't look all 
flouncy and feminine. Just a bedroom, with a wardrobe, a rather untidy 
dressing table, and a bed. A bed. Bed. A bed. Thing you sleep in. Bed. 
Unh. 

She threw herself down on the bed, then held out her arms, and it was 
clear what I was supposed to do, so I lay down next to her. And she sort 
of enfolded me in, and started kissing me, and stroking me, and before I 
knew where I was, she had my shirt off, and was running her hands up and 
down my body. 

Diana: 

Things were hotting up nicely. I had him right where I wanted him, on my 
bed, absolutely ideal. I practically tore off his shirt, and then I said 
"Hang on, this isn't fair, you're miles ahead of me", and I took off my 
blouse, and pulled the teddy over my head. 


William: 

Then she stopped, sat up, and took off her blouse. I was wrong about the 
bra, she wasn't wearing one, but she obviously didn't need to. I was 
right about her shoulders, they were very broad, broader than mine, 
even. but her chest was wide and deep, with those two magnificently 
beautiful breasts in front. They weren't enormous, but they were bigger 
than I'd imagined in my fantasies about her, much bigger. And they stood 
straight out from her body, I could see why she regarded a bra as 
optional. They were tipped with sharply defined nipples, pinker than the 
rest, and they seemed to be reaching towards me, so I reached out to 
touch them. They were harder than I'd expected, really stiff and firm, 
but as I felt round the underside of her breasts, it was softer there. 
She kneeled beside me as I used both my hands to touch her breasts, 
stroke them, fondle them. Then she lay down next to me and pulled me on 
top of her. And what happened after that is indescribable. So I won't 
even try. 


Diana: 

I have to do this carefully, I don't want to frighten him. If he's on 
top of me, he'll feel more in control, more secure, so I'll start off 
that way. I encouraged him to touch my breasts for a while, and the 
feeling of horniness built up inside me until I felt I could burst if I 
didn't do something about it. It was like lightning striking my nipples, 
and running down a conducting path straight to my clitoris, from where 
it shot into my brain, almost paralysing me with the sexual feelings of 
delight. So I lay down next to him, and rolled him over on top of me. I 
can take his weight much more easily than he can take mine, plus he 
won't feel quite so dominated if he's on top. I almost tore his trousers 
getting them off, I had to keep saying to myself "Easy, Diana, easy, 
calm down, there's plenty of time." I got my skirt off, and then I did 
tear my tights getting them off, but I didn't care. He had a raging 
erection by now from all our foreplay, and my vagina was dripping wet 
and ready for action, so I pulled him into me. Of course, he wanted to 
start fucking at once, but if I'd let him do that, he'd have come in 
seconds, and I wanted more than that. So I wrapped my legs round his 
hips and held him steady, so he couldn't move back. And I used my arms 
round his body to hold him still. He started moaning and groaning, but I 
knew I wasn't doing anything that was hurting him, was I? I did a quick 
check, and no, I wasn't. So that was just his need for sex that was 
making all that noise. 

I held him still until he stopped making quite so much racket, and I 
could feel his excitement level fall from incoherent down to merely 
over-excited, and then I loosened my hold on his hips and body, and let 
him start to fuck me. But he was a complete newbie, and he let his 
instincts rule his head, moving towards the fastest orgasm possible. So 
after less than half a minute, I had to control him again with my arms 
and legs, stopping his frenzied movements by hugging him close with my 
limbs. I hugged him too hard at first, and I started to feel him 
struggling. At first, I thought it was just his attempts to fuck me, but 
then I realised he was trying to get loose from me, so I relaxed my grip 
a bit, and I felt him taking deep breaths. I must have been crushing the 
air out of him, it's much too easy to do that by accident. 

After he'd got his breath back, he went back to screwing, he'd picked up 
the general idea very quickly. But he was still trying to win a race, 
rather than extract the greatest pleasure, so I had to clamp down on him 
again, not so hard this time. And when I let go of him, after he'd 
calmed down a bit, I kept my hands on his hips, so I could control his 
movements that way. I slowed his strokes into me, and I slowed his 
withdrawals. He was trying to pump at about three strokes per second, I 
was allowing him about one every two seconds. He started getting very 
frustrated with this, and was pushing really hard, but there was no way 
he could overcome the strength of my arms. And when he tried to roll off 
me, my legs around his legs prevented that. Although I was underneath 
him, it was me that was in control, not him. 

But I pretended otherwise. "Oh, William, you're wonderful, don't stop, 
faster, harder" and lots of other encouraging noises. He was just 
grunting, well, you don't really expect a man to say much. And when he 
tried to fuck harder and faster, my arms were slowing him down, making 
it more difficult for him to penetrate and withdraw. Even so, he started 
moving towards a climax, I could tell from the noises he was making, so 
I bore down hard with my vagina, it's hard to explain which muscles you 
tense to do this, but it has the effect of gripping the man's cock 
inside you, which stops him from coming. I gripped as hard as I could, 
and he started shouting, and I wasn't sure if that was sex or whether I 
was actually hurting him with my vagina, so to be on the safe side I 
relaxed my vaginal grip a bit, which was a big mistake, because he 
started to come. Fortunately, I realised in time what was happening, and 
was able to reach down with a hand and grip the base of his cock, to 
stop him from reaching full orgasm. 

This turned out to be rather good, because it meant he had a half 
orgasm, you know? When a man has most of the sensations of an orgasm, 
but doesn't actually ejaculate. Of course, it was his first time ever, 
so he didn't know it was only a half orgasm, and afterwards, he lay 
quietly on top of me, recovering, while I told him how good he was. But 
what he didn't realise, was that I hadn't let go of his penis inside me, 
so after we'd both gotten our breath back, I squeezed it a bit, kneaded 
it inside me, and brought it back to life. In no time, he was at full 
mast, raring to go again, and once more I had to control his enthusiasm 
with my hands on his hips. 

This time, I brought him to half orgasm on purpose, controlling his 
ejaculation reflex with pressure from my hand at the base of his cock, 
not too hard, but hard enough to stop the semen from spurting out. I can 
break six inch nails with my hands, controlling a man's orgasm is 
relatively easy. "Oh, Diana, oh, oh, oh" he kept saying. I smiled, and 
kissed him some more, without letting go of his cock, which felt so good 
inside of me. A bit of manipulation with my strong, hard hands brought 
him to full erection again, and we were at it like rabbits once more. I 
love the feeling of a hard cock sliding in and out of my vagina, and I 
can't believe I'm the only woman who loves it so much. That's what cocks 
and vaginas are made for, isn't it? I mean, only a god with a sense of 
humour would make sex work the way it does. But it does work that way, 
and we have to make the best of it. I was making the best of William, 
and I brought him to a third half-orgasm. 

I still hadn't had my own orgasm, but by now the horniness inside me 
would have made a rhinoceros jealous, and I knew that when I did have my 
climax, it would be world-shattering. but it's men that have no 
patience, women can wait for good things. Babies take nine months, I 
could wait a few more minutes for my climax. Meanwhile, William needed a 
bit of resuscitation. 

I rolled him off me, onto his side, and spent a few minutes just kissing 
and cuddling him. "Oh, Diana, you're incredible" he was saying, and 
other nice things like that. So I whispered back to him, and I explained 
that I hadn't actually given him a full orgasm yet, and when I did, he'd 
know the meaning of the word ecstasy. And he moaned and trembled in 
anticipation a bit, because he thought he'd already experienced the 
ultimate pleasure, and here's me telling him "You ain't felt nothing 
yet." And then I asked him "Do you want another coffee? I'm making one 
for myself." Mostly, I just wanted to slow things down. 

I put on my sexy silk dressing gown, and his eyes were locked on to my 
breasts as I did so. They aren't really gigantic, but I think they're 
big and firm enough to make an emphatic statement when I want them to. 
And the width of my body makes my chest look even larger. And I put a 
belt round my waist, to emphasize the contrast between my waist and my 
bust, which is what counts, I think. 

I returned to the bedroom with a tray, and on the tray I had two cups of 
coffee, some biscuits, and a few six inch nails. Time for William to 
learn something important about me. He knew what to do with the coffee 
and biscuits, but eyed the nails warily like they were some sex toy he'd 
never encountered before. But he didn't ask any questions. 

I had my coffee I sitting back on my heels on the bed; William sat 
cross-legged with his. When we'd finished, I put the cups and things on 
the dressing table, and got back on to the bed. Then I took one of the 
nails, bent it in my fingers, and handed it to William. He examined it, 
and tried to straighten it, which he couldn't. Then he tried to bend it 
further, which he couldn't. I let him struggle for a bit, then held out 
my hand for it. He gave it to me, and I straightened it with my hands, 
and passed it back to him. He tried to bend it and couldn't, and then I 
took it back and bent it for him. I gave him one of the other nails, and 
he couldn't even dent it. Then I took the nails one at a time, and bent 
and straightened each one until it broke. William was completely silent 
until I'd finished, and when I did the last one, he looked at me 
adoringly, and said "Wow, Diana. Wow. You're amazing." I smiled, and 
took off my sexy silk dressing gown, and put one of my hands on his body 
while he kissed the other one and stroked my forearm, which isn't that 
big, truly. 

Almost as soon as I touched him, his penis snapped to attention, and I 
lay down and pulled him on top of me. I kissed him, and we caressed each 
other, and I told him "I'm the strongest woman you'll ever meet." I 
don't like telling people I'm the strongest woman in the world, because 
of Gran, but that's close enough. Then I whispered to him about how he 
wasn't going to be able to stop me doing whatever I wanted to do to him, 
and I told him about what I was going to do to his helpless body with my 
strong hands and powerful vagina. I pulled him inside me, and started 
him stroking in and out, making sure that he didn't move too fast. Every 
time he started to get too excited, I controlled his body with my hands, 
slowing him down, stopping him from coming too early. 

After several minutes of this, I let him have another half-orgasm, which 
felt pretty good to me, too. Then I gave up even pretending who was the 
submissive one, and turned him off me, and got on top, astride his body, 
his cock still inside me. "Touch my breasts" I commanded him, and he 
stroked and fondled me, bringing white hot fire to my nipples and 
dissolving my loins in boiling oil. I worked myself up and down, his 
cock creating havoc inside my cunt, his hands melting my nipples, and I 
felt my orgasm beginning to build up. He tried to have another orgasm as 
I worked him, but I slipped my hand down to the base of his penis and 
stifled it. 

I could feel him on the verge of coming, and as I slowly moved up and 
down on him, I used the pressure from my hand to keep him at that point. 
His hands moved erotically over my chest, and my nipples felt like they 
were burning, throbbing, on fire. My breasts shared their sensations 
with my clitoris, and I moved gradually towards a full womanly climax, 
slowly but steadily, controlling William all the time to stop him from 
doing what men usually do, stopping him from coming until I was ready. 

Then I knew I was at the point of no return, and I released my grip on 
the base of his penis, and vibrated the inside of my vagina. He 
responded immediately with an orgasm, a full one this time, as I wasn't 
controlling his sexual organ any more. His orgasm triggered mine, of 
course, and I was having a full, industrial strength climax. Moreover, 
my vagina was exerting a milking action on his penis, pumping the semen 
out of him, reinforcing and strengthening his orgasm as I shuddered 
through my own. Vaguely, through my own transport of delight, I could 
hear him shouting my name "Diana, Diana, DIANA". 

The orgasmic flames ran through my veins as my body recapitulated the 
ancient reflex that only women can have. I was on my own now, just as 
William was alone, each of us locked in the individual world of sexual 
explosion. I don't really know what it's like for a man, but it can't 
possibly be as good as it is for a woman. I tried not to clench my legs 
round his hips, I tried not to crush him too hard with my arms, and I 
kept my hands well away from his body. But there's only so much you can 
do when you're in the middle of an orgasm, and I saw a few bruises on 
him afterwards. 

Gradually, our passions subsided. My main explosion was followed by a 
series of smaller blasts, then by some pops and bangs, and finally the 
feeling of well-being that you get after a really good fuck. And I told 
William how good he'd been. But I could barely get a word in edgeways. 

"Oh, Diana, that was the most amazing experience of my life. I don't 
know what you did to me then, but it was terrific, you are the most 
extraordinary woman I've ever met. Oh, Diana, I love you, I love you, 
I'll always love you, for ever and ever ..." He went on at length. It 
was all very nice, very flattering, and exactly the sort of thing a girl 
likes to hear, although maybe a bit over the top. Eventually, I hushed 
him by putting a finger over his mouth, and said "William, what's your 
name?" "William Rawlinson. I'm William Rawlinson, of course." And then 
he saw what I'd seen. He wasn't stuttering. "Oh, Diana, I can speak 
fluently. Listen, I'm William Rawlinson, you're Diana, I can say 
anything I want to, I don't stutter any more, it's like a whole new 
world, I'm not afraid of words any more, ..." I put my finger over his 
mouth again, then followed it with a kiss. I'm not really one for 
chattering after sex. So I pulled his head down onto my breasts and 
stroked his hair, and we fell asleep like that. 


William: 

I woke up the next morning, and said "William Rawlinson". Yes, I hadn't 
dreamed it, my stutter was gone. So was Diana, so I got up and went to 
look for her. She was in the kitchen eating breakfast. "Hello, 
sleepyhead", she said. "Want a kipper?" I had some toast and marmalade, 
and started to tell Diana about my new-found loquaciousness and fluency 
with words; I deliberately used long polysyllabic Latinate words in long 
convoluted sentences. Making up for lost time, I suppose. Diana just 
smiled at me, tolerantly, I suppose I was making a bit of an ass of 
myself. "Where shall we go today?" I asked. 


Diana: 

He was full of himself. Well, I suppose that's to be expected, he'd just 
lost his virginity and his stutter, and I wouldn't be surprised if the 
two were related. And he was full of me, too, he was all over me, which 
was nice enough, except I was trying to eat my kipper, and unless you're 
careful, you'll get a bone in your throat. And then he asked what we 
were doing today, and I knew it was time to explain a few things to him. 

I've had this problem before. Men aren't used to getting fucked by a 
woman much stronger than they are, so they aren't used to the way I can 
control the sex, and make it so much better than normal. And so 
afterwards, I have this problem with them falling in love with me, which 
isn't what I want, really. I'm not ready for that sort of relationship, 
I like to play the field a bit, you know? But how do you explain to a 
love-sick teenager (which is how they behave) that he was just a bit of 
crumpet, wham, bam, thank you man. When I fall in love, it'll be the 
real thing, with happy-ever-after, and declarations of undying love, and 
promises of faithful-unto-death, and all that stuff. William was nice 
enough, and the nookie was good, but I wasn't actually in love with him. 
The trouble was, he was in love with me, or thought he was. And that, of 
course, made him think I must be in love with him. So I had to let him 
down gently. 

The first and most important thing, is don't give them any more sex. If 
being savaged by Diana once does that to a man, imagine what it 
would be like if I repeated the dose. And the second most important 
thing, is don't give them anything to hope for; I made that mistake 
once, and the guy hung around me like a dog round a bitch in heat for 
months. No, you have to be firm, but gentle. Nice, but definite. If I 
hung on to all the men I've screwed, you wouldn't be able to get in the 
front door. 

I took William by the hand, and sat him down on the settee, and I held 
his hands in mine as I explained it to him. "William, I'm just not ready 
for any kind of long term relationship. It isn't you, it's me. I'm not 
ready to settle down. Last night was absolutely great, but last night is 
all there's going to be between us." He stared at me, his eyes big and 
horrified. "But Diana, I love you, I want you, I need you." "But I don't 
love you, William. You're nice, and you'll make some girl a wonderful 
husband, especially in bed, but not me." "Why not? What do you want that 
I can't give you, Diana?" I thought about my ideal man, and decided not 
to tell William about him. Not that I've ever met him. Not that I 
actually ever expect to. "When I'm older, William, I'll fall in love 
with someone, and then settle down. I'll know when the time comes, and 
the time isn't now. I'm sorry, William, but that's the way I am." 

"Well, can't we be lovers until then?" "No, William." How could I 
explain that if I fucked him again, I'd probably fuck him up for life? 
As it was, he'd be very unlikely to find a woman who could give him the 
sort of sex I'd just blasted his body with. If I did it again, he'd be 
so hooked on me, he'd never get his mind straight. Who'd want an 
ordinary woman after they've been turned inside out by a woman who can 
control your whole body with her arms and legs? He stared at me like a 
Labrador. I stroked his hand. "William, count your blessings. You've 
lost your stutter, you've know how great you are in bed, and we can 
still be friends." He grabbed one of my hands in both of his. "Really, 
Diana? We can still be friends?" "Yes, William, we'll be friends, but a 
bit more than friends, because of what we shared last night." "Oh, 
Diana, I'd rather be your friend than anything, but what I really want 
.." "Shush, William. That isn't an option. Friends, and if you ever get 
into any sort of trouble, you can always come to me and I'll help you." 

I gave him a couple of broken six inch nails to remember me by, got him 
combed and dressed, and out of the flat. Then I washed my hair, put on 
my fluffiest angora sweater and an old friendly pair of jeans, and spent 
the rest of Sunday reading a book and feeling the deep contentment 
inside my thoroughly fucked body. 


Diana the Valkyrie 
Email me at valkyrie@thevalkyrie.com
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