Dumas growled in excitement when Mari scraped her fingernails across his back.  The slight pain mingled with the pleasure she was already giving him, amplifying both sensations.  Lifting his head, Dumas gazed at her naked body, spread out on the bed like a delicious feast for him to enjoy.  Unconsciously, he swept his tongue across his lips, anticipating everything still to come.  Mari had always struck him as a sweet girl, rather childlike in her innocence and eagerness to please.  But right now, she was fully a woman.<br/><br/>Unable to wait any longer, Dumas stripped off his boxer shorts.  If Mari still harbored any doubts about how badly he wanted her, they should now be put to rest.  Unfortunately, the difference in their relative heights made the conventional position rather awkward.  So Dumas lay down beside Mari, kissing her hungrily as he raked his fingers through her hair -- the soft blonde strands yielding to his desire as easily as the rest of her body had.  Then he rolled over onto his back and helped Mari straddle his waist.  This way, she could control how deeply he penetrated her, and how rapidly.<br/><br/>Gazing up at Mari, Dumas smiled.  She’d done it.  For these few minutes, she truly had taken away his pain.  He didn’t feel angry, or sad, or crazy.  Just deliriously happy.  But Dumas’s smile flickered when he realized that he’d made a certain assumption.  And it might well be wrong.  “Mari?  This isn’t--?  I mean, you’ve been with a man before.  Haven’t you?”