Extracts from The Diaries of 'Professor' Cornelius Crane

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December 13th, 1968

Friday the 13th has turned out to be a very lucky day for me! Wrestling is definitely my favorite spectator sport.

It’s hard to believe that I had been so reluctant, at first, to participate!

My father’s work gave their End-of-Year/Christmas Party tonight. The annual event was…is always held in the main hall of the local golf club, and as always, was for employees and their spouses only. The invitation had stressed: Please, no children!

This had suited me just fine as it had given Hannah and I the opportunity to have our own little party!

Tonight was the fifth time that Hannah and I have made love.

It’s difficult to believe that she was once the frightened girl who I had coerced into my bed on that first night.

After we had finished, I rolled over onto my back next to her.

I thought I had kicked the habit completely, but I felt a tremendous urge to light up a cigarette.

I did the next best thing – I reached into the top draw of my bedside table and retrieved two sticks of bubble gum.

We lay there for the longest time, staring at the ceiling. The silence was occasionally broken by the snapping sound of a bursting bubble.

Hannah finally spoke. “I feel so guilty, Connie.” She always used the same nickname for me that my mother used. It made me slightly uncomfortable, as if she still viewed me as a child as well.

“I thought we had already discussed this. I thought you would have come to terms with the…”

“No,” she said turning on her side and putting her hand on my chest. “I’m not feeling guilty about what we do.” I gave her an accusing glare. She emphasized, “No, really!”

“Then what?”

“You have no idea how happy it makes me feel when your mother phones for me to come over to babysit.” She paused in thought for a moment before saying, “It’s kinda stupid to call it babysitting. How old are you now?”

I purposely avoided telling her my physical age and replied, “I told you that those tests I took say I got the mentality of a twenty–year-old. That’s why I’m in a special class at school, remember?”

“Oh, yeah!” She deliberated some more then added, “Do you realize that makes you about the same age as me. Even older!”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that before,” I unflinchingly lied.

“Yeah! Did I tell you that I also went to a special class at school?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Oh, yeah. Only, it was because I was stupid?”

“They told you that it was for being stupid?”

“No, the teachers were all very kind. They…”

“So, who said you were stupid, then?” She seemed reluctant to answer. I raised my voice. “Who, Hannah?”

“A lot of the kids from the other classes…and also…” She paused.

“And who also?”

Her eyes became watery as she answered, “Poppa.”

“Your father called you stupid?”

She sniffed and nodded. “Momma says I ain’t stupid – just a little slow.”

“I know! And that’s the God’s honest truth! Nobody has the right to call anybody else stupid – and really mean it.”

“It’s okay; I know he doesn’t mean it. It’s only when Momma and I make him really angry that he says some nasty things. Once he and momma were having a real bad argument. I was so scared when they started breaking things. Then he told momma that I probably wasn’t his, and that if he had his way he’d have me sterilized.”

“What?” I asked feeling the bile rise in my throat. “Do you know what that means?”

“Uh-huh, it means I can never have children. He said he doesn’t want to be grandfather to a bunch of drooling retards.”

I exploded. “Your father’s a fucking monster!”

She sat up, stunned and highly upset. “Don’t you bad mouth my Poppa, Connie Crane! You take that back, you hear? You take that back, right now!”

“I’m sorry!” I said quickly. “I’m really sorry, Hannah. It’s just that…”

“It’s okay, Connie. I forgive you.” She suddenly leaned over and kissed me on my mouth.

“What was that for?”

“Because I love you.” Then she swiftly added, “It’s okay, you don’t have to say you love me back. I just wish…” She stopped and smiled.

“What? What do you wish?”

“How come we never kiss when we do it? None of the guys I been with ever kissed me either. I want to kiss like the people in the movies.” She mimicked a Hollywood embrace, holding a phantom lover in her arms. “I want to be held and kissed all romantic like.”

“It’s difficult to kiss you when your tits are smothering me to death.” We both laughed before I queried, “You were still telling me why you feel guilty?”

“Well, every time I come here to babysit, I have the greatest time. In fact I wish your mother needed me to come over more often.”

“You have absolutely no idea how much I wish for that very same thing myself.” We laughed some more.

“So, I feel kinda bad every time your mother pays me for having such a great time.”

“That’s the reason?”

She nodded, “It’s like going to the fair and someone pays you to go on the rides.” I laughed, but she said seriously, “No…really! It’s just so great coming over here! I mean, gee whiz, the Johnson kids are a bunch of noisy brats who drive me crazy when I gotta babysit there. At least, with them, I feel I earned my pay for the night.” I laughed some more before she asked, “How come your mother needs a babysitter for you if you’re like twenty years old already?”

“I guess she’s probably worried that I might try to get up to mischief.” We stared at each other for a moment before we both broke into fits of laughter. We laughed till the tears ran down our cheeks.

“Have I told you what I’m going to do with all the money I’m saving up?”

“What?” I asked naively.

“You know that pawn shop in town with the big clock in front?”

“Fry’s Second Chances?”

“Uh-huh! Well it’s got this big music box in the window. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Mr. Fry sometimes let’s me wind it up to watch the ballerina dance. He always tells me to be careful not to overwind it because it might break.”

“Ballerina?”

“There’s this ballerina in the box who dances while the music plays.”

“What music? What tune does it play?”

“It’s by some guy who sounds like a Chinaman with a sore throat.”

“What?”

“Mr. Fry says he thinks it’s from Swan Lake.”

“Tchaikovsky?”

“That’s the one!”

“Uh-huh! Wow, that must really be a big music box if you can keep a ballet dancer inside it. Where does she sleep and eat? Is there a bed and…”

“It’s not a real person, silly.” I laughed and she shoved me. “Oh, Connie Crane, you’re just teasing me again.” She smiled down at me. “You’re such a great guy, Connie.”

“Lie back.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to kiss you romantically.”

“Yeah?” she said flopping backwards.

I moved her hair aside. “Yeah, on your neck.”

“Just don’t give me a hickey, okay? That’s how Poppa found out the first time.”

“No hickeys,” I said burying my face in the side of her neck. “I promise.” I sniffed her skin. “No perfume?”

“Poppa says only whore’s wear perfume. Perfume and painted toenails.”

I started to kiss her neck, working my way slowly up towards her ear. “Ooh-hoo!” she moaned. “You’re making my skin go all goose-pimply.”

“Whatsamatter,” I whispered into her ear. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s kinda ticklish!” she giggled.
“Ticklish? I’m trying to be romantic here.” Then I put on my best Bela Lugosi accent. “‘Listen to them. Children of the night. What music they make.’” I breathed warmly against her tender, quivering flesh. “Come, my dear, I yust vant a liddle bit of your blud.” Then I lightly bit her.

She squealed and bolted upright. She rushed off to put on the light, and then went over to the full-length mirror that was mounted on the middle section of my cupboard. “You promised - no hickeys,” she said studying her neck.”

“Don’t vorry, my dear. Zat pretty little neck of yours, von’t be marked.”

“Stop talking like that. You’re giving me the heebie-jeebies. I’ll have nightmares for a week.” She studied her naked form in the mirror. Turning from side to side. “I love this mirror of yours. We don’t have such a long one in our house. I can see my whole body at once.”

We had always made love by the light that came from the livingroom. I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the brightness. She had a marvelous figure. Her hips were a fraction too wide with a hint of cellulite, but this only added to the allure. The little bit of extra weight she carried had helped to form some strong muscular lines along her thighs and calves. Her long ash-blonde hair fell sensually down to the hollow above her firm, dimpled buttocks.

Actually, she looked magnificent; it was as if Boticelli's Venus had stepped out of her oyster shell and into my bedroom.

I felt slightly embarrassed when my eyes met hers in the mirror, and I realized that she had been watching me study her naked body.

I covered my embarrassment by saying, “I love your hair. Why do you always wear it tied up? Look how lovely you look. Why don’t you let it down more?

“Poppa won’t let me. Anyhow, I’m having it cut off next week.”

“What? No! You mustn’t.”

“Uh-huh, Poppa says he knows this man who makes wigs, and he’s willing to pay really good money. Poppa says he’ll let me keep some of the money too.”

“Some? No!”

“Stop fretting! It’ll grow back, silly.”

“What if you had enough money to buy the music box, would you still cut your hair?”

“Poppa’s already made the appointment. The guy’s coming specially next month on the train all the way from Baltimore to get it. Momma says I’ll look like a tomboy for awhile, but I mustn’t fret ‘cause it’ll soon grow back.”

“How long you been growing it.”

“Pretty long I guess. I have cut it a couple of times, but that was just for the split ends.”

“I really wish you didn’t have to.”

She spoke to me in the mirror. “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

“You’re beautiful, Hannah. You’re my Venus on a half-shell – you look good enough to eat!”

“Don’t start your Dracula nonsense again, okay? Rather go make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” When I had finished laughing she spoke with a tone of authority and confidence, “What’s so funny Mr. Crane? I mean it.” I laughed even louder and then she spread her arms and twirled. “When I was a little girl I wanted to be a ballerina. My momma was gonna buy me this beautiful, frilly pink tutu, but Poppa said it was just a waste of money.” She put her arms above her head and continued to turn round and round whilst watching herself in the mirror.

It was hard to believe this naked vision of beauty was the shy, reserved girl who went through life looking like a frightened puppy. It was as if the dull caterpillar was gone and a vibrantly beautiful butterfly had emerged from the cocoon.

“Careful!” I smiled. “You’re going to make yourself throw up.”

She stopped spinning and came to a halt facing me, her large breasts swayed on for an instant, bobbing gently.

She suddenly realized something, “I always felt uncomfortable when I was naked in front of the other guys I been with, but not with you. I don’t feel that way with you at all. Why do you suppose that is?” I shook my head. She stretched her arms wide again. “You make me feel…free! Free like a bird.” She started twirling again. “Free…free…free…freeee.” Then suddenly she jumped onto the bed next to me. Sitting on her knees, she looked me intently in the eyes and said excitedly, “Let’s wrestle!” It was a command not a query.

“What?” I said totally taken aback.

“Come on, let’s wrestle! It’s great fun! Ruth and I used to wrestle all the time when she was still with us.”

“Who’s Ruth?” I asked in the hope of leading the subject elsewhere.

“I already told you. My older sister. Let’s wrestle!”
“I never knew you had…”

“Yeah, she got married in ‘64 and moved to Philly with her husband. They got two cute kids. Come on, let’s wrestle!”

Hannah was most determined, so I addressed the subject head on. “Nah, that’s silly!”

“Is not!” she said jabbing me in the ribs. “Come on! Wrestle!”

“Stop that! Is too!”

“Is not!” There was another jab. “Come on! Wrestle!”

“Stop that!”

“Why, are you ticklish?” she asked starting to tickle me.

As a youngster I was terribly ticklish, and only remembered that fact now. “Wait! Wait! Wait!” I shouted wriggling around. “Alright, but no more tickling.”

She added, “And no more biting either! Or pinching or scratching!”

“Deal!” I said holding out a hand. We shook. Then I looked past her shoulder towards the door and said with a shocked expression, “Ma! What are you doing home so early?”

As Hannah turned to look, I launched myself forward placing her in a necklock.

“You sneaky little cheat,” she said struggling to get free.

“I hadda do something. You’re much bigger and stronger than me.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

She was quite supple and managed to get her legs behind her head and lock around my neck. She pulled me forward and I fell, head-first, into her lap.

In my first life I had outbid a bunch of other spectators to get into a ring with two female mud-wrestlers. It was great fun and sensually stimulating (The following day I was still finding mud in the strangest places), but there is something about wrestling with a giant naked female that words cannot describe or be surpassed when it comes to a most fulfilling erotic experience.

Hannah was far stronger than me, and after a lot of wriggling and struggling all over the bed, she finally pinned my arms down with her knees, my head locked between her large strong thighs. I was in wrestle-heaven!

She quickly counted to 10 before jumping off, declaring herself the winner and doing a victory lap around my room.

“Oh, no!” I shouted raising my dispute. “You counted too fast!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Fine!” she said getting back onto the bed. “Let’s go again then!”

“New rule!” I announced loudly. “From now on you gotta count to a hundred.”

“Fine!” I gave far less resistance this time and she soon had me pinned in the same fashion. She started to count fast to hundred.

“Whoa!” came my muffled voice. “That’s too fast!”

I smiled as she started to count slowly from 1 again.

Just after reaching 90 she flew off of me and stood staring at me in shock and disbelief. “Connie? What did you just do?”

“Whatsamatter?” I smiled mischievously. “That wasn’t tickling, pinching, scratching or biting?”

“Well none of that allowed either!”

“You sure?”

“Yes, of course! Ee-yew! That wasn’t very… grown-up of you Mister Twenty Year-old!”

“Actually, you’ll be surprised.”

“I was! I never would have expected that of you? I should put you over my knee and give you a good spanking!”

I had smiled even wider upon requesting, “Promise?”

“What?”

“Forget it! Hey, we still don’t have a winner yet? Come on, now!”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Okay, but no more cheating of any sort!”

At the end of 100 she beat her magnificent chest like a gorilla and said, “What do you say now, Mr. Dracula? King Kong beat you real good! Wah-hoo!”

I never dreamed that losing could be so much fun!

After another victory lap she leaped onto the bed and breathlessly admitted, “I feel like doing it again!”

“Alright,” I said. “But this time you won’t be so lucky.”

“No, I’m not talking about wrestling, silly,” she said lying down on her back and spreading her legs. “Come on!”

“You’re wearing me out,” I lamented. “You’re gonna make me old before my time.”

“Come on,” she demanded. “Or do you rather want me to tickle you again?”

I moved between her legs and gazed down with a look of concern.

“Very well, Miss Hannah,” I said releasing a long sigh. “I’ll do my very best.”

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