© Copyright 2004

When it comes up in conversation, or I'm badgered into telling someone who hasn't heard my story, I like to joke that there are three people responsible for bringing my wife and I together. Those three people are Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

And they inevitably give me the same kind of look you're giving me right now. Trust me, I'm used to it, so you can stop it any time.

Seriously. Stop it.

It sounds crazy, I know, of course it does. I say it jokingly, but it's one hundred percent true.

I was seven years old when Jesus came into my life. Okay, okay, already. His full name was Jesus Alejandro Diaz, but everybody called him Jesus. Like I said, I was seven years old and everyone I knew thought it was incredibly funny that his name was Jesus.

Everybody knew Jesus was a white guy with a beard. Right?

Anyway, I was spending the weekend at Jason Keller's house. Jason lived next door to me, and he was without a doubt my best friend in the whole world, and would be until tenth grade when that rat bastard stole my girlfriend.

I got over it though, and invited him to my wedding. He was even my best man. And his dad gave away the bride.

This night though, we're only seven years old, and we were mad. Tonight was supposed to be cool. Our new, all-time favorite television show - The Dukes of Hazzard - was on, and after that we were going to stay up all night watching monster movies. Or at least we'd try to stay up all night, but usually it was around eleven o'clock when we'd get tired and fall asleep in front of the television.

So instead of gorging ourselves with candy and soda, there we were, sitting in the waiting room of St. Francis Medical Center wearing nothing but our flannel pajamas, trying to stay awake.

"When is it going to happen?" Jason asked his aunt. Aunt Celia was watching Jason while Jason's mom and dad were with the doctors having a new baby, and since I was staying with Jason, Aunt Celia was watching me too.

Celia sighed, looking at her watch. She'd been watching Jason for the last couple days, trying to help out her sister, and even at my young age, I could tell she was getting tired.

"I don't know, Jason. Sometimes it only takes a couple hours, sometimes it can take a lot longer than that."

A couple hours. Jason and I thought about that for a long time. A couple hours is a lifetime when you're a kid, and she said having a baby sometimes took a lot longer than two hours, so we could... we could be here forever!

"I have to go to the bathroom," Jason announced. Rather unnecessarily, I thought as I looked at him, jumping up and down and holding his hand over his crotch. "Celia, where's the bathroom?"

"Eric, do you need to go too?" she asked me. I'm Eric Stanton, by the way, and I'm spending the weekend with Jason while my parents are at a couples retreat. I found out later that they're having marital problems, but I didn't know that yet, and wouldn't have understood anyway. I'm only seven. But I knew enough to go to the bathroom before we left the house, so I didn't have to pee.

"I'm okay," I tell Celia. Sighing, she stood and took Jason by the hand and together they went off to find a bathroom.

So now I'm by myself in the waiting area, and the night just keeps getting worse and worse. First we didn't get to finish eating pizza because Jason's mom's water broke at the restaurant, and we all rushed to the hospital. Since she wasn't the mom or the dad, Celia got stuck with the two of us, and the three of us sat in the lounge, waiting Jason's new sister to be born. But now they're off looking for the bathroom, and I'm all alone.

I was sitting there, stewing in my frustration, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Truth be told, I was starting to get a little worried. Jason and Celia had been gone a long time, so everybody I knew at the hospital was somewhere else, and I didn't know who could be trying to get my attention. I turned and saw Jesus.

"You want to see baby?" he asked.

"What baby?" I asked.

"The Baby. Baby is born! Baby Stephanie." He was waving his arms around, and I was glad we were alone, because he was a little embarrassing. Jesus was kind of the town janitor. If something needed cleaning or fixing, Jesus was there to help. He wasn't the smartest fellow you've ever seen, but he was probably the nicest. Everybody loved Jesus, and Jesus loved everyone right back.

"Yeah, I guess." I decided I did want to see the new baby. I didn't have any brothers or sisters, so this was all really new to me.

We walked together past the reception desk and down a long hallway to a big set of double doors labeled "maternity ward." Jesus pushed the door open and motioned me to go ahead. There was another hallway, but this one had all kinds of big glass windows.

Jesus pointed for me to look through the window. I walked up and peered in, pressing my nose against the glass. Inside were six or seven baby cribs, each holding a tiny baby.

"What's in that one?" I asked, not understanding what I was seeing. One of the cribs was bigger than the others and had a big plastic tent over it. Jesus didn't know the right words, but he described that that baby inside - Stephanie, as it turns out - had been born early, and was sick, as are most preemies.

The tent was there to keep germs away from her, "so she don't get sicker," he said.

"Is she going to die?" This was becoming more and more traumatic for my seven year old mind. I knew people went to hospitals when they were sick, but they were supposed to get better, and now a brand new baby was sick, and I was sad.

Jesus shook his, and told me Stephanie would be fine, but Jason's mom and dad would need to be very careful with her.

"Will she break?" I had heard someone talk about Jason's mom's water breaking at the pizza place, but didn't really understand what it meant. I didn't want baby Stephanie to break... Jesus laughed gently, attempting to calm my nervousness.

"She strong," he said. "Women always strong. Stronger than you," he teased, seeing I was near tears.

"Is not," I muttered. "She's just a baby. I'm stronger than a baby."

Jesus smiled, patting me on the head.

"Poor boy. You learn soon. Woman always stronger." Jesus nodded sagely and walked off down the hall.

"What are you watching?" I called downstairs as I bounced down the steps to the basement. Jason's dad was a lawyer, and they lived in this real big house on the edge of town now that he'd gotten a promotion at his law firm. We didn't hang out as much as we used to when we were little kids, cause it was a longer ride on my bike than before he had moved, and I wouldn't be able to get my driver's license for another half a year. Well, more like six months and eight days. Not that I was keeping track.

"Hey Eric. C'mere," Jason waved me over. He had practically the entire basement to himself, which was really great when we wanted to look at the stash of Playboys he'd stolen from his dad.

I walked over and sat on the floor next to Jason, turning to look at the television. It looked like a home video, because the picture was all jumpy and out of focus a lot. A few years ago, Jason's dad had been one of the first people I knew that bought a video camera. He must have spent a fortune on it, at least that's what I figured by the way he went on and on about how great it was. But that was a few years ago, and he'd since given his old one to Jason as a hand-me-down, but Jason just let it sit in the corner of his room.

Jason's dad had also been one of the first people in town to have a video cassette player, a big bulky thing with fake wood veneer, and I know Jason was still the only kid in our grade to have one in his own room.

Like I said, his dad was a big shot lawyer, and Jason had all kinds of cool stuff.

So the stuff on television was kind of jerky, as if whoever was operating the camera didn't quite know how it worked. I looked at the screen, trying to figure out what I was seeing, but all I saw were tons of people on a crowded little street. They were all packed together really tight, but everybody seemed to really happy about it. There were lots of people wearing bright costumes, and it looked like a band playing on the balcony of a building.

"Is this a Halloween party?" I asked, thinking it might have been, because of all the costumes. Jason shook his head.

"No, it's something down in Louisiana. I think my dad called it Mardygra or something. It's kind of a big party where..." I cut him off, jumping up from the floor and shouting at the television.

"She just took her shirt off! Did you see that? She just showed her boobs!" I sat down in a heap. This was the coolest thing I'd ever seen! If Jason kept talking about this Mardygra, I didn't hear him, I was so intent on watching for more boobs.

The video went on for another ten minutes or so, but there were only a couple more boobs.

"Wow," I said when it was finally over. "Damn. That was cool. Watch it again?"

"Sure," Jason said. "I have to rewind it first." Jason hit the rewind and the two of us talked while the tape spun backwards to the beginning.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked. "That was so great!"

"Isn't it awesome? My dad took that."

"I figured he did, but what's the deal with all the ladies pulling their shirts up?"

"I don't know. Did you see that most of the time when they showed their boobs someone gave them a necklace?"

"You mean the beads?"

"Yeah, whatever. I think they have to pull their shirt up or something, if they really want the beads."

"And they don't get arrested?"

"I guess not, but they should have arrested that one."

"The huge one?"

"How big was she? She must have weighed five hundred pounds!"

"Yeah, but she had big ones, didn't she?"

We both nodded, remembering the enormous breasts one of the women had displayed. I was startled to hear a voice from behind me.

"Who had big ones? Big what?" I turned and saw Stephanie standing there. Stephanie was now a tiny seven year-old sylph of a girl. She was pretty, with a round face and a tiny nose, and her hair was the color of sunlight. She was holding a cup of juice in one hand and an oversized Raggedy Ann doll in the other. "Jason, who had big ones?"

"Nobody. What are you doing here?" Jason answered, upset and afraid his little sister might have seen what we were watching. "How long have you been down here? I thought I told you to play in your room."

"I'm bored. I wanna play with you guys."

"You can't play with us," Jason smirked. "You're too young."

"Am not."

"Yes you are."

"I'm gonna be eight next month. That's not too young."

"And I'll be fifteen pretty soon," Jason shot back. "See? You're too young."

"Mom says you're supposed to watch me, so I'm playing down here with you guys," Stephanie said, and plopped down onto the floor.

I looked at Jason, but he just looked at me in defeat.

"Fine, you little brat. Stay down here. We don't care. We're going to watch some videos."

I looked at Jason in surprise, but he just shrugged.

"Are you sure?" I whispered. He nodded.

"It's fine. She's too young to get it. Besides, I caught her one day looking through one of dad's dirty magazines and told Mom, but she didn't care. She says Stephanie's a girl and if she wants to look at other naked women it's okay."

"That's weird. She'd care if she caught you doing it."

"That's what I said, but she said it was different."

"Whatever."

The tape had long finished rewinding, and with a nod from Jason, and one last look at Stephanie, who didn't seem to be paying attention, I started the tape playing again.

The beginning of the tape, which I hadn't seen, was if anything even better than the end. There was a parade at first, and tons of beads and coins being thrown from these hugs floats. There were really loud marching bands and lots of people and shouting and more costumes.

At the end of the parade was a cut in the footage, and suddenly the scene was like before, back on the really crowded street, only now there were all kinds of women taking their shirts off. A lot of them were really hot, and I was kind of squirming around on the floor, as blood rushed into my dick. I was thinking how nice it would to touch their boobs and kiss them.

"She's pretty." I froze for a second, my head whipping around. There was Stephanie, watching the television. I looked at Jason, but he shrugged his shoulders again, as if to say, "what can I do?"

"You think she's pretty?" I asked. Stephanie nodded.

"I think she's pretty too," I told her.

"She's got big ones," Stephanie said, surprising me.

"What?"

"She's like Mommy. I don't have big ones, but Mommy says I'll get them sometime."

Hearing this, I'm sure I must have blushed bright crimson. I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with my best friend's seven year-old sister. Worse, I realized that seeing all the nudity, in addition to talking about boobs with Stephanie, had my dick as hard as a rock. I dropped my hands in my lap to try to cover up the lump in my pants, which only caused Stephanie to look, but I don't think she saw anything. Or if she did, didn't realize what it was or why I had it.

"This is boring," she finally said, as I just sat there. Jason ignored her, and to my relief, she got up and went upstairs.

During my senior year of high school, my parents finally decided they hated each other enough to make life miserable for me, but not enough to actually get a divorce from each other. To best show their spite for each other, both had begun having affairs with people from work, although Dad was gone so often before it didn't feel like much had changed.

I had finally forgiven Jason for stealing my girlfriend, and Jodi for cheating on me with my best friend, and wished the two of them well in their new relationship. I thought it was quite generous of me, considering it had only taken me two years to get over it. The fact that I was sure their relationship would never last past high school helped ease my pain.

I started college with high hopes of finding someone special to call my own, but quickly found college to be much like the rest of my life.

"You're too clingy," one girl told me. Kelly and I had been casually dating for part of sophomore year when she told me it was over. "I want to have a good time when we hang out," she had said, "but it's like you've been looking to get married since our second date. I can't handle it."

I decided then that from that point on I would be known as Mr. Fun to all my friends. Gone were the days of studying in the library until midnight on Friday. I was a changed man, ready to close any bar I might encounter!

Needless to say, that lifestyle lasted until I received my next set of grades. I realized that if I wanted to actually do something more in life than work the "Keys While You Wait" booth at the local mall, I'd best study a little harder.

The last two years of college were a rush of classes and books and term papers. I have no strong memories of those years, but something must have gone right, for at last, one windy Saturday morning in June, a certain Eric Anthony Stanton walked twenty-three steps across the school's stage, received his diploma and shook the provost's hand. Waving at the crowd, I took my seat, the school's most recent graduate - at least until the next name was announced.

I had lived through four years of college with one motto through it all: no classes before nine o'clock. It was practically a religion. Each semester I would register for the next with one overriding principle in mind: get as much sleep as possible.

To say that "real life" came as a shock to me would be a great understatement. Suddenly I was in the real world. If I wanted a job, or wanted to keep my job, and the boss said I needed to be there at eight o'clock, then I would be there at eight o'clock, come hell or hangover. For many months, my body and I were at great odds with each other, to say the least.

Still, it came as a much greater shock to my system when I arrived home one evening to find my answering machine blinking.

"Hey Buddy," came a voice from my past. Jason and I hadn't spoken in a few years. We still chatted via email occasionally, but his were short and impersonal, and mine few and far between, and we had mostly lost touch.

"Long time no see," he continued, in the cheery, overly-fake voice so common to answering machines. "I have big news for you, Eric. I don't want to spoil the surprise, but make sure you watch your mailbox. See ya!"

I stood there, wondering what possible news he could have, but quickly put it out of my mind.

So it was another surprise when I received the wedding invitation in the mail.

"The Parents of Jason Montgomery Mitchell and Jodi Lynn Parker cordially invite you to the wedding of their two beloved children," the parchment read.

Damn! The two had made it work. I had to admit I was impressed.

I immediately got on the phone and began the process of patching up that which needed mending. Old friendships are hard to kill, I found, and it wasn't too long before I was boarding the train for the twenty hour ride back home.

Home, of course, wasn't the way I had left it. The house I grew up in had long since been sold, my father now alone with his beer and football games, my mother and her second husband living in a tiny two-bedroom apartment. I showed up for the requisite greetings, but quickly made my way to the Mitchell residence.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. I was staying at Jason's parents' house during the wedding, but it had not occurred to me I would be alone in the house with them and his sister Stephanie, a recently-licensed terror (at least according to Jason and his parents) on the local roads. Jason and Jodi had already set up house together, and were of course busy with last minute preparations, and had little time for me, other than the wedding rehearsal and dinner.

So it was on a Friday evening two days before the wedding that I found myself alone in the cavernous house with no plans, no one to meet and nothing to do. Deciding to take the opportunity to do a little scavenging, I did what any normal, hot-blooded, horny American male would do in my situation. I rifled through Mr. Mitchell's closet, looking for porn.

And struck the motherlode. Apparently my parents weren't the only couple in town with problems, unless the enormous stack of tapes and DVDs I'd found was some sort of marital aid. Titles and kinks I'd never really taken time to imagine all laid out before my eyes. Men and Woman. Men and Lots of Women. Women with Women. Men with Midget Women. Men tying up Women. The variety was endless, and I was at a loss at what to watch, having never experienced the entire width and breadth the adult entertainment industry had to offer.

Finally deciding to just grab something and get on with it, and more than likely get off with it too, I grabbed a black cassette, marked only with a piece of masking tape. PRIVATE read the label, which I assumed was a good thing.

I made the quick trek to the basement, where I found Jason's old room much as it had been when I last visited. Different television and VCR, updated with the newest and best gadgets available, but still the same bed and underneath, I assumed, the same dirty magazines, were I to look for them.

I didn't bother checking, instead slipping the tape inside the player. The tape started automatically, and I found myself watching what appeared to be some sort of best-of sex compilation. I found myself skipping ahead until suddenly I saw a familiar tableau.

New Orleans. Late February. Mardi Gras.

I suddenly flashed back nine years previous, to the day Jason and I had watched his father's homemade video. Instantly I was rock hard inside my slacks. Almost without thought my hand slipped down and cupped my cock, squeezing the hard shaft, and I knew I would have to jack off if I hoped to get any rest that evening.

Pausing the tape, I quickly unbuckled my belt and pulled my slacks to the floor. My briefs followed and I lay on his bed, clad in only a t-shirt, my hand wrapped around my hard shaft, slowly stroking myself to the images on the television.

The women were the same as they ever were. Although these were different women from the tape I'd watched previously, they were begging for the same beads and coins as had been prizes since the early 1900s. One guy on the screen was even going on about how great it was, some group was even throwing coconuts again.

I lay on the bed, a thin sheen of perspiration forming on my forehead, my eyes glued to the bare breasts on the screen in front of me, my hand a blur as I pumped my dick. I thought I heard a noise, and whipped my head around, but saw nothing, and quickly resumed my stroking.

One woman in particular caught my eye. She was dressed in the style made popular years before by Madonna, who had shocked everyone as she writhed on the floor of a video awards show, dressed only in a lacy wedding gown. I felt a drop of pre cum dripping from the end of my cock, and reached out, smearing the fluid over my hard shaft, lubricating myself.

I groaned as I watched the woman on the screen. If she was an amateur, she was damn good, I thought. She slowly pulled the straps of her bra down over her shoulders, pulling and teasing on them as slowly each massive cone of her tit was unveiled. Her nipples were huge, bright pink and standing straight out from her tits, and I felt myself losing control, my hips thrusting up against my hand as I continued pounding my cock.

With little warning, my dick erupted, and I felt my cum pulsing hotly out the end of my cock. My hand was a slippery mess, and as I turned to look for a rag in order to clean myself, I froze.

Stephanie, half hidden in shadows, stared at me in shock, as frozen in place as I was. I had not seen her in four years, our last time together had been my high school graduation. At the time, I had been an 18 year-old getting ready to head off to college, she a scrawny 12 year-old just starting to transform into a woman. We had nothing in common and had said little more than congratulations and hello. That had changed during the course of my current visit, however.

The Stephanie of today, I knew from having talked with her a little since I had been back for the wedding, was quickly becoming a stunning young woman. She was vivacious, smart, beautiful, and fun to be around, and frequently I had found myself thinking about her at night.

At the moment, however the Stephanie in the basement was a stammering, blushing mess. She also had her hand down her shorts and been obviously frigging her pussy while watching me jack my meat. Now that I noticed she was in the room, I became aware of other things, including the nearly overpowering scent of aroused woman.

Before I could say anything, however, she turned with a squeal, and ran up the stairs to the safety of her own room.

I lay there on the bed for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. I had no doubt this would be the beginning of very bad things. Images of myself standing in front of a judge popped into my head, as the bailiff read off the charges against me. "Corrupting a minor" echoed through my mind, although I realized that Stephanie had been the one spying on my activities, and from the scent of her, had been an eager participant in her own.

I jerked back to reality as I felt my cock drip the last cold remains of my orgasm onto my leg. I quickly got up, wiping myself off as best I could, and walked upstairs. My plan was to get out of the house and into my rental car. I would drive for a few hours, and see what happened from there. Not much of a plan, and as it turned out a useless idea, but at the moment it was all I had.

As I reached the door, I heard a quiet voice whispering to me from the stairs.

"Wait, Eric. Don't go." I turned and saw Stephanie sitting on the bottom step. She looked haggard and beaten, her head resting against her fists, which were propped up on her legs. She looked tiny and sad, and I closed the door, walking back towards her.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice ragged, just as my own mouth was opening to apologize. My jaw hung there a moment before my mouth snapped shut.

"Don't be," I answered, sitting on the floor next to her. From my vantage point I realized I could see directly up the right let of her shorts. I could still smell her arousal, although it was now slightly masked with the smell of soap, but the crotch of her shorts was still damp and pressed tight against her mound and I found her incredibly erotic.

"I shouldn't have walked in on you like that," she moaned, shaking her head back and forth. "It's all my fault, and you hate me." Stephanie's voice broke as she spoke, her shoulders shaking with emotion.

"Hush. I don't hate you. It's my fault. I should have known better than to... to do what I was doing." Stephanie looked up at me, her eyes streaked with tears, scarcely able to believe me. I nodded. "It's my fault," I stated. "Not yours. Okay?"

She nodded shyly, unable for the most part to look me in the eye. We sat there together, silently thinking our own thoughts.

"You're big," she finally said, blushing prettily. I arched my eyebrows at her, a small smile on my lips.

"Am I?" I asked. "And how would you know?"

"I... I know where you got the tape you were watching," she said, admitting she too had searched through her father's stash of videos. "She's pretty, isn't she?"

"Who is?" I asked, unsure who we were talking about.

"Mary." I shook my head, lost for the moment.

"Who's Mary?" I asked.

"The girl you were jack... masturbating to, on the video. She's pretty."

She was talking about the girl in the wedding gown, I was sure of it.

"You've watched this one before?" I asked, surprised Stephanie would admit such a thing. She nodded slowly, embarrassed all the more. "You know her? You know the girl?"

"No."

"Then how do you know her name?" I asked.

"I don't, but I watch that tape all the... I've watched it once or twice, and I always think of her as Mary." I nodded in reply, understanding a little more.

"Like the Virgin Mary," I said, noting with amusement the surprised look on Stephanie's face.

"Yeah," she said, her face a mask of confusion. "How did..."

"Like the Madonna song," I said.

"Yeah!" She blushed again, clearly embarrassed.

"You're right though," I said as I stood. "She is very pretty." Stephanie giggled, pointing at me.

"I can tell you like her," she laughed, a new bulge evident in my slacks. I attempted to cover myself as I quickly spun and walked out of the room, her laughter echoing behind me.

It wasn't all because of the video, I thought to myself as I lay in my bed. Ever since our chance encounter, I had been a mess, thoughts of Stephanie running through my head.

Stephanie kissing me. Stephanie feeling my cock. Stephanie sucking on my cock. Stephanie opening her legs for me. Opening herself up for my fingers, my mouth, my cock. Stephanie, beautiful Stephanie riding me to orgasm.

I was a mess at the wedding. I had been surprised but honored to be asked to serve as a groomsman, but found the job difficult. I was to escort Stephanie down the aisle as one of the bridesmaids, and to my consternation found I had a hard time looking her in the eye.

After the wedding, I left town as quickly as I could, back to the safety of my own home, and returned to the real world.

One day, to my surprise, I received an email from Stephanie.

Dear Eric,

I got your email address from my brother. I hope you don't mind if I send you a short message. I promise not to spam you! <grin> I said I wanted to thank you for hanging out with me when you were here for the wedding. I wanted you to know I had a good time, especially that one night <wink wink>, but I won't tell anyone.

You were always nice to me, not treating me like a little kid, and I wanted to thank you.

If you wanted to write me at my email address, you can go ahead. I promise to write back.

Stephanie

I wasn't quite sure what to make of this, but found myself pleased, thinking back to our short encounter. She said you had a big one, I reminded myself, a bit smug at the thought. She's so young, a part of me answered, chastising the aroused part of my brain. She's only sixteen!