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Message-ID: <36327asstr$1020294605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: billyboiiiiiii@yahoo.com (bill johnson)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 1 May 2002 13:22:12 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Sean and Moger, Part 2 (m/f intercourse)
Date: Wed,  1 May 2002 19:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Part 2

"Therefore what God has joined together, let no man put asunder. By
the authority of God and the State of Missouri, I now pronounce you
husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." I lifted back her veil and
kissed her in a gentle embrace. "I now introduce to you Homer Sean and
Margaret Hanna Berison."

It was a simple ceremony with a small handful of friends and
co-workers in attendance. There was no reception. We ran through a
rice shower to an awaiting limo, which took us to the airport. A
tropical honeymoon paradise was awaiting us.

After we got settled on the plane and the flight reached its cruising
altitude, Moger fell asleep. I began reflecting back over the past few
months.

It had been three months since I met her in New York. I brought her to
Independence and into my home. She was very surprised by my
arrangement when we arrived there.

"You'll stay in the guest bedroom."

"What? You don't want me to sleep in with you?"

"Call me old-fashioned, or just plain weird, but yes, I don't want you
to sleep in with me, at least not yet. You're special, Moger. I've
never met anyone that struck me like you did. I want us to begin with
a simple, platonic friendship. We'll go from there. How does that
sound to you?"

She stood stunned with her mouth hanging open. She shook her head back
and forth in unbelief. "I just figured..." She paused.

"I know what you want to say. You figured that you were going to be a
`whore-on-demand.' Right?"

"Yeah. Something like that. I mean, that's basically all I've been all
my life. When my stepfather came into my room when I was 5 he said
that I made him feel good. And basically that has been my whole life
ever since. I really don't know anything else. Just pleasing men"

"Well, you can begin a new lifestyle now. I officially declare that
you are no longer a whore." I waved my right arm over her head while I
said it. "Just live here in the house with me and we'll develop a good
friendship first. I've tried the `sex-first' method before, and it
always just led to a bunch of bullshit."

She smiled and continued to shake her head in unbelief as she unpacked
her belongings and settled in.

I spent as much time as I could over the next few weeks talking with
her, going on drives and walks with her, taking her to movies and
plays and restaurants. We talked a lot, and got to know each other
well.

My decision to abstain from sex was not an easy one to stick with, I
must admit. She was a beautiful and sexy woman, and I always desired
her. But I mustered up the strength to stick with my plan (I did
masturbate quite frequently during that time.)

I took her for a check-up and some tests. She was a prostitute, after
all, and I wanted to be sure that she didn't have any sexually
transmitted diseases. Thankfully she didn't. Her expertise as a blow
job artist helped in that regard, as she wasn't fucked much. Many of
her clients who did choose intercourse were men who themselves
insisted on wearing a condom for their own protection. Lionel ran a
pretty clean operation, and cared for his girls.

After six weeks I took her out to a fancy place in Kansas City. A
violinist came and softly serenaded our table. I got on one knee and
opened a ring box. In it was a 14 caret band with a 5-figure rock
mounted on it.

"Margaret, I love you, will you marry me?" I knew it was right,
because of my inner voice telling me so.

She smiled brightly, and said "Yes" without hesitation. We were
married 7 weeks later, 3 months to the day after she moved into my
home.

We arrived at our honeymoon destination. A cab drove us to a
beachfront hotel. In the honeymoon suite she went in to the bathroom
to put on her nightgown. It was white and lacey, very sheer. I could
see the outline of her breasts and the dark triangle of her pubic
hairs through it.

I was wearing my briefs and a t-shirt. I brought her into my arms and
held her tight. The  sight made my cock poke forward in my briefs like
a tent pole. I lifted the gown off of her.

She had a gorgeous body. Her breasts were perfectly shaped,
well-rounded cones with erect nipples. I couldn't see her vagina, as
she was standing, but the soft pubic hairs were very inviting.

I chuckled softly.

"Why are you laughing?"

"It is simply ironic. The way we met. And this is the first time I
have ever seen you naked!"

"I know, Honey, and I've been nervous about it. I feel like I have
never been with a man before."

"You're a pure virgin in my eyes, and you are breathtakingly
beautiful." It was not cheap flattery, she really was.

I gently directed her to the bed and laid her back. She spread her
legs, revealing the bud of her vagina. I began to softly finger her
clitoris.

"What are you doing? Aren't you going to fuck me?"

"No. I will never `fuck you'. I'm going to make love with you. Just
lie there and enjoy it"

I continued fingering her clitoris softly, and ran my fingers along
the lips of her vagina, softly stroking down slightly on the walls
within. I moved slowly and softly, and her hip movements and moans
were telling me that she was enjoying it. I continued my foreplay with
my left hand while I began to gently massage her breasts. I had an
erection that poked hard through my briefs, but I continued to
concentrate on her.

Eventually her body language began telling me that she would not be
able to stand much more foreplay before she exploded in ecstasy, so I
stood and pulled off my shirt and slid off my briefs. I gently lay on
top of her and positioned my penis so the shaft was up and down
between the lips of her vagina, which was hot and very wet from her
sexual excitement. I rotated my hips very slightly, allowing the soft
head of my cock to massage her clitoris. I slid my hands under her
soft, rounded buttocks, and began to passionately kiss her. Our
tongues were dancing together. She continued moaning as I continued
working her clitoris with my cockhead by the slight circular rotation
of my hips.

I raised my hips slightly, and my penis slid forward, aimed perfectly
at it's desired destination. Without having to use my hands, I very
gently and softly slid the shaft into the depths of her pussy. I could
have shot off immediately, but I maintained control, waiting on her
first. I slid my member in as far in as I could, and our pubic hairs
were pressed hard together.

Then I began softly squeezing her butt cheeks, and she took mine in
her hands and did the same. We were both moaning softly. I raised my
hips slightly, just enough to allow all of my penis to exit except for
the head. Then I waited a few seconds and thrust it hard back in. She
moaned loudly. I could tell by her hip movements that she was ready.

I began a rhythmic thrusting and releasing, pounding it hard, but
still being very gentle. Our moans got louder with each thrust. Then
her moans turned to screams of delight.

"OOOOHHHHHHHH!!! AHOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!! OOOHHHH!!! OOOHHH!!! AH!
OHHHHHH!!!!!!!! OH! OH! OH! OOOHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"

I let loose and ejaculated into her. I could feel the first blast of
semen rushing out of my penis' slit. I moaned loudly as each pang of
delight expanded and contracted inside me in a venerable pounding
sensation. Never before had I experienced an orgasm as powerful as
that one. We continued kissing passionately as we just lay there
together. After a few minutes my cock receded and slipped out into the
hot, wet, mix of vaginal juices and semen. I finalized the kiss and
rolled off of her and lay to her side. I took her hand in mine.

She continued staring at the ceiling and spoke in exhaustion, "OH MY
GOD, so THAT's how it feels!"

"What? You have never had an orgasm before?"

"No. Never. I was always interested in just pleasing the men, and
that's all they were ever interested in. No one ever took the time for
me, until tonight."

"Well, fasten you seat belt. There is more to come. Just enjoy it."

There was. Plenty more. We didn't leave the room for four days. Room
service brought us our food, and we had a regular sexual festival in
there. We didn't want to leave, but we had to get home.

The honeymoon continued there, though. The sex continued, and I always
made sure that she had her orgasm before I did. (I had learned to
please a woman the hard way. I was married for two years to a woman
who couldn't be pleased, and all of the failed attempts actually
turned out to be excellent learning experiences which I was able to
apply to a woman who could be pleased.)

I went back to work, and arranged to work the presentations in such a
way that I had to be away from home only one night a week. I wanted to
concentrate my energies on my new bride, and also I was not interested
in being away from her any more than I had to.

I came home from one of the presentation trips late one night. She was
a nervous wreck. She talked a mile a minute after we hugged and
kissed.

"I am late, I never miss my period, my God, I bought one of those test
thingies and put my pee in the tube and poured the stuff in it and it
turned blue and I thing we're gonna have a baby!"

"YES!!" I was thrilled. We were wanting to have kids right away. There
was a lot of love in our home, and it was a perfect environment for
some little ones. I gained my composure after jumping up and down with
her.  I then stopped and held my hand out palm down. "Calm down, let's
not get our hopes up until the doctor does his test, that's what the
directions say to do. We'll go see him first thing in the morning."

The test was positive, and we immediately began furnishing a room near
our bedroom with baby furniture. We enrolled in birthing and new
parenting courses. We wanted to do everything right. She began
shopping for clothes and d cor for the nursery. We were happy beyond
words at the love we had for each other, and the excitement over our
coming arrival.

At the proper time the doctor took a sonogram. He had a sense of
humor. He came out and said, "Your child is going to stand to pee." We
took the photographic blob, which was the first picture of our new
son, home and framed it. Moger began shopping with the color blue in
mind.

The due date came and went. She looked funny, like she was carrying a
beach ball under her maternity dress. She couldn't see her feet when
she stood. A few days later she stood up from the dinner table and
bent over with a sharp pain. She sounded like a child on Christmas
morning. "I think it's time!"

There were no "Lucy and Ricky" comedic antics. I sat her in the car
and phoned ahead to the hospital on my cellular phone.

Five hours later my wife's feet were up in stirrups and I was wearing
green scrubs, watching as our son, Jesse Reese Berison, entered the
world. After the usual two days in the hospital, we brought him to his
new home.

The home was filled with the smell of baby powder, and baby oil, and,
every now and then, the smell of a nasty diaper. It was all wonderful.
Moger was very good with the baby. The classes helped her 
tremendously, and her love for the child was evident in the way she
held him, talked to him, and continually doted over him.

On Jesse's 6 month birthday I came home to find her sitting in the
living room quietly holding him. Her smile was missing. I took the
baby and kissed him and placed him in his swing, starting it up. I
stood her to her feet. I said before that I was a professional at
reading people. Something was disturbing my wife. I hugged her. The
return embrace was less-than-genuine.

"What's wrong?"

She smiled. I could tell that it was forced. "Nothing. I'm just
feeling a little blue today. I'm sure it's nothing."

I dismissed it as postpartum depression. But it didn't go away. It got
worse. Her joy of life seemed to be gone. She took good care of our
child, and took good care of me. We still had an active sex life, but
her interest in it was slowly dwindling. There were more and more
times where she took care of me, but said that she didn't feel like
she could have an orgasm, and her sexual fulfillment was occurring
less and less.

During the next two months I found myself coming home to a different
person. She hardly smiled, and was just "going through the motions" in
her mothering of the child and in life in general.

I tried taking her on a weekend trip away from the baby, thinking she
may have needed a break, but she said she didn't feel like being away
and we returned home early.

I finally sat her down. "Honey, something is seriously wrong. You are
very depressed. Is it because of me?"

She tried to smile. "No, Sean. You are more than wonderful. And Jesse
is too. I just don't know why I'm this way. Hopefully it will go
away."

I talked her into seeing the doctor. We went the next day. He
prescribed a mild anti-depressant. As we stood to leave, she mentioned
that she was a week late on her period.
While we were there the doctor did a pregnancy test. It was positive.
The joy wasn't there this time. We originally had planned to have
several children, but Moger's sense of discontent and unhappiness had
us too concerned to be overjoyed with another child. The doctor
changed the prescription to a more `pregnancy friendly'
anti-depressant. On the way home we both were discussing how we hoped
the medication would work.

It didn't. She continued to feel more and more unhappy. I hardly ever
saw her smile anymore.

With that exception, though, the pregnancy went well. She maintained
good eating habits and concern for the child she was carrying.

A few days after the due date, our daughter Lori Hanna was born. We
brought her home from the hospital to a much more unhappy place than
her big brother was brought into.

Moger's unhappiness was making me more and more unhappy. She began to
go into a fast, downward spiral. I convinced her to see a therapist,
and she went to a few sessions. (Well, I thought she did, anyway.) 
She was getting worse by the day. She had lost all interest in the
children, and I had to hire a nanny to care for them. Then she began
leaving the house for the day. When I prodded her as to where she
went, she would just blankly say, "I went to sit in the park," or "I
went to the mall," or I went for a drive." Sometimes she would not
come home until late in the night.

After several months of this I finally had had enough, and angrily
confronted her. It was the first time that I had ever been angry with
her. "What the fuck is your problem? You don't give a shit about the
children, or me, or yourself! You need to change, and fast, before
it's too late!"

She screamed, "Too fucking late for what? Huh? Answer me! Too late for
what?!"

Tears came to my eyes. "Why can't you just be happy, Honey. You were
so happy before. Why?" I cried audibly.

"I don't deserve your love, Sean. I don't deserve to be happy. I don't
deserve to be a mother."

"Put away the pity, put it away! You deserve it as much as any human
being does. Happiness is your choice!"

"I CAN'T. I TRIED. You don't know how hard it is. You don't
understand. I CAN'T"

She took the car keys and left. It was already after 9 PM, and she
didn't return until the next morning.  I didn't bother asking where
she went, or speaking to her at all.

The silence between us was deafening. We didn't speak for a week. I
broke the silence, though, when I came home and she was on the bed
face down and sobbing.

She never cried once during this downward spiral of hers, and I saw it
as a positive sign. I immediately put my arms around her and asked her
to talk to me. At least she was showing some kind of emotion. She had
been so numb and unfeeling for so long.

In her crying she told me that she was using again. On Jesse's 6 month
birthday she began craving drugs, and she fought off the desire until
after Lori was born. The desire slowly consumed her. She never went to
the therapist, because she knew that he couldn't take the craving
away. On the day of her first appointment she went to buy a hit
instead. She'd been taking cocaine regularly since.

She cried, "I pawned the ring." I had not even noticed it was gone.

I put my arms around her and told her that it was just a piece of
jewelry, and it had no value compared to her.

"And..." She began to sob. "I'm late again. I think I'm pregnant, and I
don't want the baby to be affected by the drugs." She was genuinely
worried.

I immediately put her in rehab. She was pregnant, already 2 months
along. The medical staff there thought that the baby would be OK, that
she had gotten help just in time to prevent damage.  She came home 8
weeks later. I hoped that the rehab would bring back the old Moger,
the happy wife and mother.

It didn't. She was more miserable off the drugs than she was on them.
I took her keys away from her and instructed the nanny to call me if
she ever left the house for any reason. She stayed home, drug free,
and miserable through the entire pregnancy. The baby was a boy. We
named him Lomas Samuel, after her great-grandfather (Sammy for short)
. He had brown eyes.

He was not my child.

My mother was always fascinated with studying genetics and applying it
to our family tree. She knew that she and my father both carried the
dominant "B/B", or blue-blue genes, and that I would also
automatically be born with the same. She said that none of my children
could be born with brown eyes. Both Jesse and Lori had my blue eyes.
This was not my child.

I didn't immediately confront her about it. Maybe my mother was wrong.
Maybe there was nothing to this dominant/recessive stuff. It didn't
matter. The more I looked at this sweet, tiny child, the more
convinced I was that he was not my child.

I kept it inside until she was home from the hospital for a week and
had healed some. She was just lying on the bed and staring at the
ceiling, which she had been doing all week.

"We need to talk."

"I don't feel like talking."

"Well start feeling like it! That isn't my kid. I'm convinced. Tell me
what you did."

She was so cold and unfeeling. She spoke in a monotone as she stared
at the ceiling. "I started selling blows for hits. Like I always did
before. One guy offered me more money if he could fuck me, so I let
him. It was just one guy, and just one fuck, no big deal. You  fucked
me the night before, so I figured when I got pregnant that you'd never
know. I guess you do now."

I was furious. "You fucked another guy? And you had a kid with him? My
God, Moger, how the hell could you do such a thing to me?"

"I did it to me! Fuck you! I didn't do shit to you. He climbed up on
me and shot off inside me. You didn't have to go through it, I did!
Now leave me alone and get the fuck out of the room!"

"You fucking slut. You sold yourself and carried another man's child,
and you think that I'm not violated?!"

"I said, `Leave me alone!'"

"This is my house. It was before I brought you into it, and it still
is! I will stand in MY room as long as I choose to!"
 
She got up and put on her coat. "Well it's obvious that I'm not
welcome here anymore. I'm leaving, and don't worry about your precious
house, I won't be back!"

It was after 9:00 PM. She took car keys and left. I followed her out
to the car. "If you drive out of here, don't even think about coming
back!" She flipped me a bird and drove off.

The next morning I went to see my lawyer. I immediately filed for
custody of the children (including Sammy, who legally was my son,
regardless of the genetics)  and a divorce. It was not really
necessary. She never returned or called.

The police found the car parked behind an abandoned warehouse. There
was a drinking straw on the floorboard with cocaine residue on it.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *   
 *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *
 There is a part 3  Be looking for it.

Please email me with comments or questions. If you have difficulty
finding part 1 to the story, let me know, and I will send you the
link.

billyboiiiiiii@yahoo.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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