Prodigy

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ProdigyThis is the true story about my life. I didn’t talk until I was 5 years old. The pediatricians my parents had taken me to, gave me a working diagnosis of autism. They said I would always stay a c***d, and never become independent. They recommended they put me away in an institution.My parents refused to do that. They kept me close to home instead. At about the age of 7, when I finally did learn to talk, they mainstreamed me into a public elementary school. I was teased, taunted, and beaten up a lot. To make matters worse, my father eventually became a wife and c***d beater. My mother, at the same time, felt I was too vulnerable to be allowed contact with other c***dren, so she forbade me to venturing away from home except for school hours.The thing you have to understand is that while I still was never a very verbal c***d even when I finished 6th grade, one teacher noticed a discrepancy between my grades and my achievement tests, who then alerted the school psychologist, who then upon testing me discovered I actually had off-the-scale scores in nonverbal reasoning along with a photographic memory.After a bureaucratic fight between my teachers and parents on one side, and the school board on the other, all the way up to the state level superintendent; I was given the offer to begin high school at a young ageWhile my classmates were warned to keep their hands off me, I was still especially lonely in high school since no student would even talk to me outside of class. I was far too intelligent for the k**s my own age, and far too young for people I wanted to be friends with. To make matters much worse, my own mother remained extremely overprotective, essentially forbidding me any kind of social life for fear someone might take advantage of me.I tore apart the entire high school’s math curriculum and rode it right up to calculus with the help of tutors my mother hired. I also took some of the hardest courses the high school had to offer, finally graduating high school at the age of 15. My parents had no choice but to board me at a local college about 3 hours away by rail. I was therefore attending college in my teens, the way nearly everyone else was attending high school in theirs. My mother still forbade me any social contact, and I could not defy her as she was paying for my tuition.I was at least as lonely in college as I was in high school. My parents divorced in my sophomore year and since she was paying my tuition out of c***d support, I still had to dance to her tune. No frats. No parties. No clubs. No dates. I was also to leave college to return home every Friday, and leave home every Sunday for college.I finally turned 18 years old as a junior in college. I was waiting for my next class on the doorstep of the engineering building watching the rain falling off the room. I saw a figure in a rubber yellow rain jacket stumbling toward me through the mud. Remembering my manners, I stood and offered the person my seat out of the rain. A lady’s voice in a thrilling contralto thanked me. She motioned me back down to share the seat with me. She threw her hood back. She had brown hair, brown eyes, ivory skin, and a beautiful smile. I then also saw the reason for her hobbling.. She was walking on crutches.Her name was Dana. To this day, I still carry a torch for her, even though I am happily married and even though she is twenty years dead. Here’s why: I cut class that morning just to talk with her for a couple hours. She was absolutely amazing, a Renaissance lady who knew history and microbiology. She was a perpetual graduate student who attended this school simply for the sheer love of learning. I identified myself as an engineering major in the junior year. She said I looked very young to be a junior. My mother had been extremely beautiful in her day, and my father once said I’m the only one of his c***dren to take after her. Evidently my round face which I inherited from her accentuated my youth even further. I also had dark brown hair, and soft grey eyes, and I wore aviator glasses.I revealed my age to her. She asked me how that happened. I shrugged, saying “no 7th or 8th grade.” “Oh, no!” she gasped. She was 32 years old, a trust fund baby, and owned her own house off campus. She told me once upon a time she had been an extremely bright c***d like me. “They called me a prodigy. I strongly suspect you are the same, just younger,” she said.We spent the entire year talking about practically anything she or I wanted to, over any subject you might possibly imagine. She was brighter than I was, than I was above average, her mind was an entire universe for me to explore, and I learned a great deal about the world from her. She was also a bit of a Japanophile, and tutored me on the bare bones of their honor code, bushido. She told me that she and I were both samurai, except that instead of katanas for weapons we had our own minds, and we were bound by our honor to use our powers wisely.The reason for her crutches was a sparring accident from the karate club. The club was not a formal extracurricular activity, so during my freshman year at 16, I used that as my excuse to gain some exercise and some knowledge of self-defense. I figured what my mother would not object to me making an effort to lose weight in a gym, I simply neglected to mention exactly how. I was more than thirty percent overweight, the result of a lifetime of inactivity and stress-eating. I never izmir escort advanced beyond white belt because of this.I had never seen Dana before at the gym where the club held daily sessions, evidently she and I attended on different days. At the time I met her, I had been a white belt for three years, and she told me she held a green belt. She invited me to her house, where we spent a couple of hours per week doing very light sparring to get her knee joint back into shape. By the time she was completely well we would spar at half strength. She regained her ability to dodge any kick I fired at her. I got my share of thumps from the kicks she launched at me.The year between the time I met her when I was 18, and the time I started the fall of my senior year when I was 19, were very happy times. I found myself falling for her, but I never had to courage to tell her that. Instead, I invited Dana over to my folks as a friend for Thanksgiving dinner. All that was left in my family were my mother, grandmother, and younger brother. Dana ate in silence and listened politely while my mother ranted on in such a way meant to drive Dana away from me as a friend. She left the house and drove off without a further word. A week later I receive a call from her in the college dorm asking if I wanted to visit her folks for a week during Christmas break. My heart leapt at the invitation, so I said yes. She said she would pick me up at my mother’s.(I have to admit to feeling at least a slight guilty pleasure for my first celebration of the Christmas holiday, as I had been born and raised Jewish.)A couple weeks went by. Dana, true to her word, approached my house on Christmas Eve. As she walked through the door my mother was fixing to explode in a rage. Dana yelled, “Get in the car!” I did, then from the window I saw them having words with each other which I could not overhear. Dana then got in on the driver’s side. I asked, “What was that about?” She said she would tell me later.We drove for a couple hours to her father’s home a couple states away. She introduced me to her folks, and we had dinner together, and some nice conversation. Then Dana showed me my room, then showed me where the shower was, and said she would see me tomorrow. I cleaned myself up and got into bed at 11:45. The air was freezing but I normally did not wear underwear, so I shivered under the covers till my own body heat warmed me.I was almost asleep when about a half hour later Dana herself comes in, not wearing a stitch, and holding only a single candle. This wakes me up instantly, and I sit both upright in the bed. Dana sits on its corner. The only thing separating us was a sheet. Truth be told, I wasn’t sexually excited at this time, instead, I was shaking apart inside from nerves, I’d never seen a naked lady before, never mind one sitting just barely beyond my reach.We talked for a while. Dana told me I had not exaggerated regarding my own mother. She observed during her own indigestible Thanksgiving dinner that while my mother originally may have had the good intentions of protecting me from the rest of the world, my mother had now become obsessed with control of me, and therefore had turned evil.Here and now, Dana said, she would pledge herself to stopping my mother. I asked her, “how?”. Dana said she saw only one way, and that was for her to convince me I should live for myself, rather than live only for others.”What are you going to do?” I asked her. “Give you a gift,” Dana said. So In all her nakedness aglow by the single candle, Dana smiled at me. Holding her arms out open towards me, she said, “Merry Christmas. Come here.”I closed the gap of frigid air between us, but I don’t notice the cold because we are embracing each other sitting on the edge of the bed, and her skin is warming mine. I bury my face in her shoulder. Tears leaked down my face to drop on her skin. Moments later, I am overwhelmed by waves of crushing sadness. My body was racked in sobs, my eyes weeping many bitter tears over too many years spent isolated from humanity without any affection, friendship, or touch. Such had been the fate of someone no-one made the effort to understand, save for her.Dana lets me cry for as long as I want. When I am finally cried out, she approaches my lips with hers, and kisses me softly. Then she tilted her head to breathe, makes a complete seal of her mouth over mine, and in practically no time our tongues begin dancing. Not breaking the kiss, my hands start feeling the softness of her long mane of hair, then roam down her back, and then her sides. Dana is caressing my neck all this time.I break the kiss and lay down sidewise upon the bed, my body is so warm now that I need no sheet or blanket to stay harm. Dana lays down with me. She reaches over and kisses my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and works downward to my chest. In the meantime, I reach out to her chest and gently caress the softness there, holding them gently in my hands, rubbing the tips with my thumbs, and then I suckle them in instinctive need.Desire burns within me like a rocket engine. I have now become thoroughly aroused, and there is a part of myself now standing proudly. Dana gently holds my circumcised tip in her hand. “It’s only six inches,” I confessed. I measured once during the times I would discreetly take care of myself without Mother knowing. From my readings of Father’s obstetrical textbooks when I was still only 13, escort izmir I understood myself to be human average. “But it’s round and fat, like a baseball bat,” she said, “and I want it inside me.””The Cowpers glands emit fluid containing sperm that could still make you pregnant even if I don’t ejaculate inside you,” I told her.”Don’t worry,” Dana said. “As soon as I learned you were telling the truth about your entire life, I decided I had to intervene. I had an IUD put right after Thanksgiving was over.””Here,” she told me as she guided my hand, “can you feel the string?”. It was there, so I nodded. I also brushed her soft petals along with the surrounding hair. Embolded, I inserted my index finger deeply within her.”Gently!” she cautioned me. I felt around for the other important structures I read about. “Yes, that’s my cervix you’re touching. Now, if you put a little pressure upward… OH, YES!”. I think that was the Grafenberg spot.”Now, just at the front, you should feel a little button,” Dana continued. I found it, and I touched it gently. She closed her eyes, and her mouth opened slightly. I was sending her to ecstasy just touching her there. I kept on doing that for a while.Dana opened her eyes. She rolled us, with herself on her back, me on top. “It’s time,” she said.I began shaking from nervousness. “Don’t worry about performance,” she reassured me. “Move up a little,” she said. As I did so, she grasped me in her hand and ran my tip back and forth against her moistness. “Now, drop slowly, just let gravity do the rest,” she instructed. I followed her instructions.Perfection. Paradise. Wonder. Amazement.I had sunk into her to the hilt. I didn’t want to move. I just stayed there for a minute or so. “I love having sexual intercourse with you!” I declared.”It’s called ‘fucking’,” she corrected me. “I can feel you up to my navel. My chest. My throat! Now move it in me. Hard, honest strokes. Let your body take over. Ravish me without mercy.”I took Dana at her word. I actually had problems learning how to climax, it initially took me a half hour for my mind to release its hyper vigilance from a lifetime of emotional abuse, and permit my body to take over.She shivered in my arms as I approached my first climax ever inside a woman, nothing mattering aside from this amazing female human in my arms, the first one who had ever accepted me exactly for who and what I was.I began shaking and my eyes started to shut of their own accord. My pelvis slammed into hers, my erection slammed into as far as it could possibly go… my world went dark, my mind had finally gone away, because I was erupting deep into her belly, in a series of volcanic explosions, no longer thinking… only feeling…Heaven. Eventually I returned to reality, my breathing slowing to normal. I laid my head between Dana’s breasts. “I love you,” I said. Dana just kissed the top of my head and wrapped her arms tighter around me while we enjoyed the afterglow together as we fell asleep in each other’s arms.I spent the days of Christmas week together with Dana and her family, dining together, exploring the country-side, playing board games, and just talking. But I spent the nights of Christmas together with her. She revealed to me she had only one prior boyfriend, who had treated her like dirt during her first time. She felt I was the best possible candidate to help her recover from the abuse. I therefore wasn’t just receiving the gift of my life from her, but I was also giving to her in return a gift she desperately needed. She needed to be loved as much as I did.I proposed to her on the fifth evening with her. Dana said no. She said our age difference was too great. I said, “I don’t care. I’ll stay at your home and raise your babies.” Dana said, “No. The world needs you far more than I do. You need to learn things, do things, achieve things, have a career, and you can do none of those with me tying you down.””But…” I said.”In fact,” she said, “we won’t be seeing each other again. That way you’ll have to reach outward to other people besides myself.”I looked down at the bed. “Friends forever, at least?” I asked her in tears.She thought about it. She reached out to tilt my chin upward so my eyes could once again meet hers. Then she nodded. “I’ll give you my phone number,” she said. “You can call me any time of the day or night for advice on anything.”My tears were still on my face, but I smiled through them. “You have no idea how much even just your friendship would mean to me,” I told her.”I wish I could let myself love you,” Dana said. “But I think I’d be wrong to do that.””I understand the necessity,” I replied. “But even if the love can only be one way, it’s still there.”For the very first and the very last time did I ever see tears on Dana’s cheeks. She said nothing. I opened my arms toward her. “C’mere,” I said. She held me tight for a while.Then I turned the tables on her. I used upon her everything she taught me that week. I didn’t just have intercourse with her, fuck her, or ravish her, or any of the other things she had requested I do to her.I simply made very slow, very sweet love to her. I used my mind alongside my newfound knowledge, resolving to give her the best experience ever. Only missionary was possible because even with her knee healed, placing any extended stress upon it was simply out of the question. We had made the most of it all this time.I kissed her cheeks, lips, eyes, neck. izmir escort bayan I licked her fingers, one at a time, then each of her toes. Then, I not only tasted from her flower, I drank from it until she squeezed my head between her legs and shuddered in a climax. Then and only then did put myself into Dana for the final time. I looked deep into her warm brown eyes as I took myself by the hand and guided myself into her. Then, about halfway in, I had a sudden inspiration. I gently reached behind Dana’s head and placed my hands behind her head, resting on my arms on the bed by each side of her shoulders. The increasing pressure from my embrace caused me to sink all the way into her. Now my face was only an inch or so away from hers. “This is for you,” I whispered to her. I tilted my head, and then I kissed her deeply. My tongue gently probed her mouth, synchronized to the soft and gentle motions in and out. I had quickly analyzed that week about how women climax. force or speed isn’t necessarily the key, consistency is.I didn’t need to do this for too long, maybe about five minutes. Suddenly, Dana wrapped her arms around me. Her body shook violently, and she quietly screamed through my mouth and down into my throat. I broke the kiss, supported myself on my hands, and continued to move gently. She shuddered again, silently, less violently. I decided it was time to go for my own climax. I finally learned how to let myself go so that I didn’t need a half hour to climax. I could let it happen. I made the effort this time to keep my eyes open, this time, and lock my gaze to hers. I wanted Dana to know how I really felt about her. “Words fail!” she said to me to afterwards. “You’ll make some extremely lucky woman a wonderful husband!”We cuddled in the bed, one final time, and slept until dawn, when we had breakfast together, just us, alone, no other family. Then, Dana drove me back to my house. We shared one last lovers’ kiss before I left her car. Then she drove off. Dana was true to her promise. For the next eight years, she answered my calls. I would call her once a year just for companionship, but I would occasionally call her when I had problems learning how to communicate with co-workers or negotiate a romance. Her phone disconnected when I tried to call on year nine. I was a little hurt, but I also judged that Dana had her own life to live also, and I couldn’t lean on her forever.About year ten, I had married. Things were not going well, as my first wife had hidden her bipolar depression from me until after the wedding night, and things were just getting worse three months into the marriage. I then received a blank postcard bearing Dana’s first name, a new last name, and no message. Dana had only known my address growing up, so this had been forwarded by the post office about four times, and the post-mark date was months old.I found a private place to make a long distance phone call. According to the postmark she now lived in a different town. In a matter of minutes I used directory assistance to find her phone number. Then, I was able to call her. It had been about a two years.Dana picked up the phone. She sounded tired. I found out why. She said she had advanced multiple sclerosis, and she had wanted me to call her. She couldn’t send me a message directly for fear of upsetting her husband about her past regarding me. She was glad I was able to intuit her request. She said that a year or so after I left college she married a professor she had her eye on for a while but was too afraid to approach until I had changed her life. Her life was a very happy one ever since, and she had two beautiful girls by him. She said this would be our final call, because she was in her final days. She wanted me to contact her so that she could thank me for everything I had done for her.I decided I would have the grace to not bother her with my own problems. “Thank you too, for everything,” I said over the phone.”It was my honor,” she said. Those were her last words to me. The call ended. Her life ended somewhat later. I was now completely on my own.Ten years after that, my first wife and I divorced on fair terms. I had hung on all that time, trying to make her life happy, but finally I had good cause to resign from my marriage: she wanted me to take an overdose of her medications with her. It broke my heart, but leaving the marriage was like waking up from a nightmare anyway.A few years later, I married again, this time to the right lady. She was a schoolteacher, reasonably bright but extremely compassionate and loving. Also, extremely passionate. We met electronically, had our first date four weeks later, and during that date destiny happened to us: we made tender and passionate love the next couple nights of the kind only poets write about. We married a year later. The year following, our beautiful little girl was born to us. I got to be there in the delivery room and cut the cord while she rested on her mother’s belly. I held her in my arms after they cleaned her. I fell into those dark beautiful eyes and got forever lost in love with her.I’m 50 now, having retired early due to disability. My wife retired with me. We’re both stay at home parents, raising our school aged c***d. Money is always tight, but there’s always more than enough love to go around.God bless you, Dana, and I hope He’s smiling on you somewhere in the afterlife.I couldn’t have managed to beat the nearly impossible odds of my upbringing, found my own way to earn a living and become independent, persevered during a bad first marriage, found the second love of my life, and finally built a loving family, without your help.

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