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Message-ID: <47329asstr$1081469404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gil Gamesh" <gil04gamesh@cox.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 08 Apr 2004 17:12:24 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} The Measure of Man, Chapter 02
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Date: Thu,  8 Apr 2004 20:10:04 -0400
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The Measure of Man is a story of love and sex in the lives of a husband, a
wife, and their three children. The story spans almost four decades in their
lives and tells of their love for each other and for individuals outside the
primary family. The sexual acts described vary greatly but all are within
the realm of those practiced by normal human beings. The Measure of Man is
an epic adventure and will be told in approximately forty chapters.
Twenty-five chapters (1,449 KB) have been completed. Additional chapters
will be published at no specific schedule.

Codes: MF FF mf Mf mF MM Mult fant rom 1st teen cons het group voy safe oral
anal pett lac preg

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gil_Gamesh/www/

Feedback is always welcomed. Use your scissors on my e-mail address to send
comments, criticisms, or requests to:

gil04gameshcutthisout@cox.net



THE MEASURE OF MAN

An Epic by Gil Gamesh

02- Strawberries and Wine

As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and
night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let
your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the
little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in
your embrace; for this too is the measure of man.

<><><>


CAST OF CHARACTERS:
Kieran Stuart, 33 in story, 25 in flashback
Sioned Stuart, 32 in story, 24 in flashback
Kavan Stuart, 6 in story
Arial Stuart, 4 in story
Kerry Stuart, one month from birth in story

TELLING THE STORY:
Kieran Stuart

(KIERAN)

A few weeks later, we were resting in bed again, after Kavan and
Arial had gone to sleep, worn out from playing with their dog and
me for most of the day. I'd showered after my wife to get rid of
the sweat from two kids and the dog.  When I came out, naked as
usual, drying myself off, I found her already resting on her side
on the bed, wearing a nightgown that covered her from shoulders
to knees. I stood looking at her for a minute.

"Honey, why do you have that on?" I asked.

"I'm tired and uncomfortable. I just don't feel pretty because
I'm so big. I feel like I'm going to split wide open if this baby
doesn't hurry up and get here."

"I know they don't ever come on schedule," I responded, "but it's
a couple of weeks yet."

"Yes, I know," she answered with a slight quaver in her voice. I
could tell she was almost on the verge of crying.

"Don't you remember how it was with Kavan and Arial? You didn't
hide from me even up to the time the baby came. I always thought
you were beautiful when you were carrying our child. I still do.
It seems to me that you're like some sacred woman, carrying
within your body an extension of our lives."

"But we haven't been able to have sex for weeks now. And it's
going to be a couple of months until we can do it again. Maybe
I'm not supposed to but I get horny even when I'm pregnant," she
said.

"The doctor gave us some guidance about how long we should wait
to "resume intercourse", as he put it. He just didn't say
anything about how long we had to wait for oral sex. I seem to
remember you were having regular orgasms within about three
weeks."

"Yes, and you were having to jack off. I like to watch you but I
really wanted you to be having sex with me, not with your hand."

"Please, honey, don't cry," I begged. "I told you before we were
ever married there'd be times when we couldn't have sex, and I
didn't want to have to hide what I did from you."

She dried her eyes and looked at me, staring down at my genitals.
Finally, she turned her back to me, pulled up the pillow that she
used to support her stomach, and seemed to relax. I decided I had
to do something to make her happier.

"Do you remember the first weekend we ever spent with each other,
how much I wanted to love you with my mouth?" I asked. "Would you
let me do that tonight?"

She looked up at me again, with a smile this time. "That was a
wonderful weekend, wasn't it? But we can't roll back time. We
can't be like that again."

"Yes, we can," I argued. "Just let me love you again the way I
want to."

"Do you really remember that weekend the way I do?" she asked.
"Would you just hold me and tell me a story about it, from your
point of view? When you finish the story, I'll let you do
whatever you want - if you'll turn out the lights."

"We've made love lots of times in the dark. You've never asked me
to turn out the lights before. Why ask for that now?"

"Because I don't feel pretty down there," she answered. "I feel
so fat and I just don't want you looking at me."

"Alright, I'll tell you the story of our first weekend," I
answered. "And I'll even turn out the light if you'll let me do
what I want to. But don't you ever say again that you're not
pretty "down there." Every part of you has always been beautiful
to me."

"Oh, shut up," she said, "No, I mean tell me about that first
weekend again."

I turned out the lights, curled up against her from behind, and
reached around with one hand to hold her breast. I began our
story.

<><><>

During the week after our out-of-town trip, we had dinner
together every night. We had agreed that I would pick her up
before work every day and we'd have dinner together every night
at my apartment, at hers, or at some restaurant. On Monday
morning, when I picked her up, I held the door to my car open for
her and closed it after she was seated.  When I got inside, I
inserted the key and was about to start the car. She stopped me
by putting her hand on mine.

"Where did you get this car?  Can you afford a red BMW like this
on your salary?" she asked.

"It's a long story, Honey. I can't tell you the whole story while
we're on our way to work.  Would it be OK if I gave you a solemn
pledge to tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth some time when you've got an afternoon to listen."

"Damn, Kieran, don't you forget it. I want to know."

"I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours. Are you going to
tell me about some of the stuff you did before we met?"

"Sure, but let's change the subject. You asked me not to
masturbate all this week. Said you wouldn't either.  Just what is
it you've got in mind for Saturday?"

"It's really very simple," I said. "I want to spend the weekend
with you, naked as much as possible. We can do whatever we wish
with each other. I'm going to make sure I fulfill one of the
dreams or fantasies I've had about you. The only thing I don't
want is for us to commit ourselves to each other this weekend; I
want to save that for the next weekend."

We followed the same pattern for each night of the week. We
stopped for take-out food three nights. Once I cooked and once
she did. We spent the evenings talking about what sort of
marriage we wanted, children, career, life, religion, likes and
dislikes. By Friday night, I was convinced that we had so many
beliefs and viewpoints alike that the few areas of disagreement
were insignificant.

<><><>

Thursday night, we discussed our parents and brothers and sisters
and how we might arrange visits together for each to meet the
other's parents and siblings. Sioned's parents were out of the
country, in Italy, until the end of August. Her brother and his
wife were living fairly close to us. We agreed to set up a visit
with her parents shortly after they returned. My parents were at
home and I told her we could go there any weekend we wanted if I
just called in advance to let them know I was bringing her.

Then I told her of a long-planned weekend at Cabin in the Woods,
the place Alan, my older brother, Kara, my older sister, and I
owned. I described the beauty of the property, over 200 acres of
heavily wooded land, with a number of streams and creeks between
rolling hills and lots of large outcroppings of huge rocks. I
described the A-frame cabin in the middle of the property and the
beautiful view from the deck looking down to the creek below. I
explained that a lot of family and friends, none older then
thirty-five, and their children would be there and it would be a
great time to meet them. I told her it should be a very enjoyable
and unique weekend. And then I mentioned that we might invite her
brother and his wife, but they'd have to understand what usually
went on with the group.

"Then I think you'd better explain what does go on," she said. "I
assume if there are children there's nothing to worry about. How
did the three of you come to own the property?"

"Paul and Lauren Andersen, neighbors of my family, were the
original owners of Cabin in the Woods. I went there with them
lots of weekends during the summer I turned sixteen. Paul was
finishing up some of the work around the cabin and I helped him.
He and I finished a lot of the inside and built the deck
together."

"What were Paul and Lauren like?" she asked.

"Paul was a helicopter pilot with a big company. Lauren wasn't
working that summer. She was staying home with their first child.
They were both about ten years older than I was."

"You spent weekends alone with them?" she asked. "Is there a
story there?"

"It's another one you can put on your list for me to tell you
about. Again, it's something I can't condense because, if I tell
you, you've got to understand the situation to know why I did
something no one else knows about."

"A deep dark secret?" she teased.

"It's deep but not dark. Let's just say I gave them a gift out of
love and leave it at that. Ask me later and I'll explain."

"How did you and Alan and Kara come to own it?"

"Paul got transferred to the West Coast that fall. At first, he
asked me to take charge of the property, as a custodian. I took
Alan and Kara out there and they came up with the idea of buying
it and renting it out to make the payments. We talked to our
parents and took them to see the property.  Dad agreed to back
us. Since I was still a minor and in high school, I couldn't
participate in buying it. But Dad said that if I worked in
keeping it up, we could all enjoy it and I'd have a "sweat
equity" and could be a part owner.  Some years later, Alan and
Kara and I bought out Dad's equity and we made enough renting it
to groups like Boy Scouts to pay off a large part of it."

"Tell me about the people who will be there," she requested.

"Alan is my only brother, five years older then me. He's married
and they have three children, one only a few months old. Kara is
my only sister; she's about two and one-half years older than me.
She's married too and they have two children. The three of us
have always been very close. There will be two first cousins of
ours, both married, and their children. There will be one other
young couple who have been close friends with the three of us for
years and, of course, their children. Not counting us, there will
be ten or twelve adults and, I think, somewhere around a dozen
children."

"That sounds like a great weekend, spending two days with all of
them and their children in one small cabin," I said, only half
joking.

"Well, it's not small at all," I answered. It has seven bedrooms,
three small along each side sort of at the bottom of the legs of
the A-frame, and one bigger bedroom in a loft on the second
floor. It has two toilets. Two and a half if you count the small
half-bath in the loft bedroom. There's one big shower stall in an
enclosed area down under the A-frame. There's a huge raised deck
at one end and a large grassy play area down the hill beside the
creek. The creek's a good place for swimming and we all enjoy
it."

"That still doesn't sound so unusual. Tell me more."

"We all take food and drink. But we've agreed that the food is
always to be the kind we should eat, with lots of fruits and
vegetables. No junk food or sweet treats are allowed. The drinks
are limited too. No alcohol is allowed and the kids get only
fruit juice, milk, or water. The adults can have coffee or tea if
they want but we don't allow soft drinks. There's no smoking; we
almost had a fight over that but the two smokers decided to quit
smoking because of their kids. We all pitch in together in fixing
the food and feeding the kids before the adults eat."

"I still don't see why you think my brother and his wife need to
be concerned about all you've told me," she responded.

"There're no TV and no VHS or DVD players, so no movies to
entertain the kids if it rains. There is a radio and a CD player,
but most of the music is classical or old favorites. No country
or rock or rap crap. We're just trying to create a quiet peaceful
atmosphere."

"Good, I could certainly do without TV or movies for a few days."

"We'll all dress very casually, shorts, knit shirts, that sort of
thing," I added. "Jeans and sweat shits in cooler weather."

"Come on, Kieran," she said in exasperation. "Everything you've
told me so far sounds wonderful. I'd love to be part of a group
like that and I feel sure my brother and his wife would like to
come too. Where's the unusual part?"

"When we first get there," I answered. Everybody will be dressed
about the same. If the weather's sunny, there'll be some out on
the deck or down in the grass without shirts."

"You can certainly take your shirt off," she replied. I assume
they're used to seeing your chest."

"It's more than that," I continued, "some of the ones without
shirts will be women or girls."

"Sunning topless? I did that in Europe where it's not at all
unusual."

"It's not just sunning. The women probably won't put on their
shirt when they come inside. They'll probably stay like that when
they and their husbands help fix lunch for the kids and then for
grownups."

"I suppose I'd feel awkward for a few minutes around strangers
like that, but if they're people we're going to be friends with
and see occasionally, I think I'd be alright with it."

"There's more," I added. "When the grownups eat, out on the deck
if the weather's good, the kids will be running around like wild
little animals. Then you'll notice that they seem to be losing
their clothes. You'll see a naked boy chasing a naked girl or
vice versa.  It won't be long until the whole bunch of them is
completely nude and running and screaming. Finally, they'll get
together and come back to the adult group screaming, `Skinny
dipping, let's go skinny dipping.'

"How old are these kids?" she asked.

"The two oldest are a boy of thirteen and a girl of fourteen.
They've already started puberty. The rest range all the way down
to Kara's still-nursing baby boy."

"So some of you take them down to the creek then?"

"No, all of us take them to the creek. But before we do, all of
the adults get naked too. Some of the women might keep their
shorts on if it's necessary. The only things we take to the creek
are insect repellant, sunscreen, towels, and blankets. Hats are
allowed," I joked.

"OK, that is a little unusual," she responded. "You mean that
everybody goes skinny dipping."

"Well, you don't have to get in the water if you don't want to.
Some just sit on the bank and watch. I think all of the men
usually get in the water to play with the kids."

"So, there will be a dozen adults and about that many kids
playing in the creek or in the grass naked. If I followed your
description of the group, all the adults are married, except for
you. Don't you ever get hot and bothered with so many women in
the nude? Don't you ever get hard or at least a little aroused
looking at them?"

"Not really," I replied, "They're all people I've known most of
my life, old friends. With all the children around, we're like
one big family group.  The kids set the tone for the group in
their innocence. I've noticed the thirteen year-old boy get a
boner a few times but nobody pays any attention to it. He'll
probably keep playing just like before, except his stiffie won't
be flopping around as much. I can well remember when I was that
age; mine got hard whenever it wanted to, no matter what I told
it."

"Does everybody go like that the rest of the day?" she asked.

"It depends on the weather. Some stay at the creek for an hour or
so and then go shower and get dressed. Some stay naked until the
kids are called to go back to the cabin. Some of the adults and
the oldest boy and girl will help wash the younger kids in the
big shower on the basement floor. We've learned the hard way that
we always have to do that. You can get chiggers or "red-bugs" if
you don't and occasionally even if you do. We've even found a few
ticks on kids and grownups."

"You know I can't take much sun," she said. "Would it bother you
if I went back to the cabin after just a short exposure?"

"No, remember Kara's got a new baby, only a few months old. She
won't stay at the creek long with him. Her husband and I'll help
watch all the other kids. You might even get a special treat. 
She's nursing the baby.  When she does that, most of the kids'll
stop and stand watching while she nurses it. They seem fascinated
by it."

"When you're all playing with the kids, do the kids or the
grownups object to you touching them?"

"No, there's no problem with anybody in that area. I might have a
naked boy or girl crawling up in my lap if I'm sitting down, or
they may grab me around the neck from behind and ask me to carry
them. I often pick up the younger boys and girls and hold them
naked, with their butt on my arm and maybe holding their leg with
my hand. The older ones will jump on me and maul me a little but
they don't want to be held. The fourteen year old girl doesn't
jump on me but, from the way she looks at me sometimes, I think
she'd like to."

"How will the kids treat me?" she asked.

"Just the same way they do me," I answered, "if you let them know
that you welcome it. Remember, it's the smaller ones that want to
be held more. You might have a two or three year old boy in your
lap, sucking on one thumb while he plays with your nipple with
the other hand. Don't make him stop. The other women will think
nothing of it. They've all been there and done that. And when we
have children of our own, you won't find it strange when they act
the same way as these children."

"So, after skinny dipping in the creek, what do you all do?" she
asked.

"Everybody does whatever they want to," I answered. "Some will
get dressed and some won't.  Some will be in the kitchen working
on the evening meal. Others may bring something out on the deck
to help prepare it. The kids usually stay naked. We pull out some
exercise mats for them to sleep on and spread them out in the big
area of the cabin. Sometimes they'll roll around and wrestle;
sometimes they sit quietly and play games."

"Both boys and girls," she said, with eyebrows raised.

"Yes," I said, "They don't have to play doctor to see how the
other sex is made. It's right there in front of them."

"Doesn't it make them curious about the differences between the
sexes and why we're different?"

"Not especially. If they do, we've all agreed to answer their
questions honestly and frankly. If enough of them show an
interest in anything sexual, we'll ask one of the married couples
to sit down with them and hold a question and answer session. The
older they get, the more attentive they are."

"Do you ever get to hold one of the Q & A sessions?" she asked.

"No, but I'm hoping we'll be able to one of these days soon."

"Do you expect me to help you?" she asked. "I wouldn't know what
to say to those kids."

"Sure you would. You just give them honest answers. Always make
sure they realize how beautiful and wonderfully made and precious
their bodies are."

"Give me an example," she said.

"Well, it's the attitude we try to show toward'em, not just what
we say to'em. When you look at one of the boys, you'll find he
has the most beautiful blue-gray eyes you've ever seen. All the
women say that to him. I think they're right. I'm sure you'll
probably tell him that too. But if he's standing there in front
of you naked, would you try to make him believe that his penis
and testicles aren't beautiful, that they should be hidden? The
same thing is true with the girls.  You can't take the attitude
that the blonde hair on their head is beautiful and then make
them feel, hey, the little cleft in your vulva is ugly and should
be hidden."

"Yes, but what if I'm sitting on the deck and the thirteen
year-old boy looks at me and gets a little stiffie.  What should
I do then?"

"Nothing," I answered. "Just let him look. Part your legs and
show him a little more if you wish. Look him in the eyes and give
him a big smile, as though he's sharing something secret with
you. What's happening to him is the most natural response in the
world. Why should either of you worry about it?"

"But what if it's his father looking at me. What will his wife
think?"

"Just look at her and smile. You'll be the only genuine redhead
there. Just accept the fact that that you'll be looked at a lot
the first time we go. But they'll all know that you're there
because we have made the same commitment they all have, whether
we're married then or not. Remember these are all good friends of
mine. They've asked me more than once when I was going to bring
someone with me. Believe me; they'll be very happy for the both
of us."

 "What about sleeping arrangements?" she asked.

"I've told you that the kids, even the two older ones sleep on
the exercise mats, using sleeping bags.  They're allowed to sleep
nude if they want to and most of them do. The grownups get the
bedrooms. We'll probably be given the bigger bedroom in the loft
even if it's not my turn yet. But after that, we'll take turns
rotating around the bedrooms."

"No body will object to us sleeping together, even if we're not
married then?"

"No," I answered, "I know most of them had sex with each other
before marriage and some had been living together for some time
before getting married."

"Will your parents feel the same way when we go to visit them?"

"When we tell them about the commitment we've made to each other
and that we're already having sex together, they'll be delighted.
 My mother will have fresh sheets on the bed in the guest bedroom
before you know what's happened."

"And if we want to have sex while we're there?"

"Do you mean at my parent's house or at the cabin?" I asked.

"Both, I guess," she responded.

"There's no problem with either place. My parents'll expect it.
Mom will probably talk to you about it the next day. Just
remember that Alan and Kara and I have always been very frank in
talking about sex with them.  The parents at the camp may
disappear in their bedroom any time of day.  When they shut the
bedroom door, everybody knows that means not to disturb them. A
lot of the bedroom doors are shut at night. But I'll warn you
that the place isn't soundproof at all.  You can hear a lot of
what goes on in the other bedrooms and in the kid's area. But,
again, it's the most natural thing in the world and we all accept
it. There might be a little good-natured kidding the next day if
some couple is unusually loud at night. But you'll also hear some
of the couples talking very frankly about their sex life. And I
do mean frankly. Sometimes I wonder if they do it more when I'm
around, to make sure I know what I'm missing. We'll have to be
unusually loud the first night to make sure they know I'm not
missing out anymore. Would you be OK with that?"

"I don't know yet. Am I going to find out soon?" she asked.

"I told you that I wanted this weekend to be mine, to live out my
fantasy with you. I'm not going to make love with you - no,
that's not the right way to say it - I'm not going to fuck -
that's not right either. How do I say it? I'm not going to cleave
unto you as one flesh until the following weekend."

<><><>

On Saturday morning, I stopped by the jewelry store for the gift
I had picked out for her. I didn't think she had caught on when I
tried to get a measurement of her neck but I wasn't sure. When I
showed the jeweler a picture of her, he looked at her for a
minute and then at me. "You're a lucky man," he said. "If it
doesn't fit, have her bring it back to me. If I can see her in
person, I'll adjust it at no charge to you. I got my wife to wrap
it for you; she's very good at that."

Next I stopped at my favorite French gourmet deli to pick up food
for our lunch and wine for the weekend. Again, I showed the owner
her picture and told him I wanted some of his very best for lunch
at noon with the woman I was going to marry. He looked at the
picture for a minute or so and then began leading me around
recommending various items. I asked him to pick out a half-dozen
bottles of very good wine. When I was paying, he asked if I had
plans for l'amour that afternoon. I answered, "Yes, and for the
rest of the weekend too."  He looked at me for a moment and then
said, "Vive l'amour. Please bring her in with you the next time
you visit us."

I arrived at her apartment just a few minutes before noon. She
must have seen me drive up because she opened the door a few
seconds before I could ring. She was wearing some sort of
colorful dress that might have been Indonesian in origin. Since
both my arms were full of stuff I didn't want to drop, I was
grateful.  We emptied the bags of food and wine and put them away
together. I told her I had more in the car and she walked back
with me. I handed her a plain brown bag containing my gift to
her, without indicating what was in it. I carried the other bag
of food items.

Before we shut the door to her apartment, I said, "Would you hang
this on the doorknob and then lock the door." I handed her the
"DO NOT DISTURB" sign I had picked up at a hotel. She looked at
me quizzically and I said, "I hope we don't see or talk to anyone
else until Monday." We put away the rest of the food and then I
handed her the small brown bag without comment.

She looked at it and then at me and then opened the bag. When she
saw the gift-wrapping, she smiled at me and raised one eyebrow.

"Open it, please," I said, "it's for you."

She carefully removed the wrapping without tearing it, just like
my Mother so often did. She folded it and laid it to one side.
Only then did she open the case. She stood looking it at for a
minute or so. When she looked up at me, she said, "We can't
afford this." When she realized what she had said, she changed
it. "I mean, you can't afford this."

"Yes, I can afford it," I replied. "I'm not wealthy, but this
didn't put any strain on my cash reserves. Come on, put them on."

She took out the four-strand pearl choker first, looked to see
how the ends attached, and then wrapped it around her neck. She
fumbled with a few seconds and then asked me to connect it. I did
as she asked and then picked up the pearl earrings and handed
them to her. She easily put them on her pierced ear lobes.

"I suppose I might have bought a diamond engagement ring and
given it to you. You could have pretended to be surprised and
unsure whether you should accept it. Diamonds are cold and hard
and never living. I wanted something that complements your
beauty, something warm that once was alive or, at least, part of
something alive. I'll still get you an engagement ring, if you
wish, and we'll both pick it out. But this is the gift I wanted
to give to you."

"It's the best gift I've ever had," she said, with eyes
glistening. She reached up as though to remove the earrings. "No,
I said, "I want you to wear them this weekend. Just the pearls,
nothing else."

She smiled. "Do you think we might have lunch now? You've brought
much too much food. Help me pick out something and you can open a
bottle of wine."

We had a leisurely lunch. While we ate I brought up the subject
of money and handling it. "I don't want us to have separate
checking or saving or investment accounts. I want you to take
charge of it. Everything we have will be in our names, jointly
owned, with you in primary charge of handling it except for
investments, where we'll work together. You're the one with the
financial planning expertise. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Are you sure?" she asked. "From your clothes and car and your
gift, I know you've accumulated much more than I have so far."

"Yes, I'm sure. I know you have the abilities to handle finances.
The reason I want to do this is to show you the kind of
commitment I want to make to you and the trust I have in you."

<><><>

"I've got to pee," she said. "How are we going to be about that?"

"Go with the flow, I guess. If you're showering and I've got to
pee, I'll do it - and I promise not to flush while you're under
the water."

"That sounds great with me," she said. "Now, come on and let's
both go pee and then take a shower together."

"I will, on one condition," I answered.

"What condition?"

"That you take the pearls off while we shower and then put them
back on until you shower again."

In the shower, when she handed me a cloth and asked me to wash
her back, I ended up washing her all over and sporting a hard-on
as rigid as any I've ever had. When she returned the favor, I was
glad when she didn't linger excessively long on my cock and
balls. We dried off and she walked into the bedroom and over to
the window. She turned and looked at me and then pulled the
drapes closed, leaving only two soft lights at each side of the
bed.

She brought me the pearl choker again, to let me clasp it around
her neck. I was struck again by her beauty, her red hair unkempt
and tangled, her face devoid of makeup, her skin like milk or
ivory, her breasts still small but standing out with no apparent
sag, her nipples a feast for any man's lips but especially mine,
and last, if there could be a last, a glorious red mat of pubic
hair crowning her Mound of Venus, so appropriately named.

"I think I could spend days making love to your breasts and never
be satisfied.  There's an old song that sums it up pretty well."

"Sing it for me?" she asked. "I know you're a wonderful dancer,
you have very good social manners when necessary, you can be just
as naughty and gross as I am when you want to, and you appreciate
good music and opera.  Now if you can just sing, I'll marry you
tomorrow."

"Don't joke about it because I might just take you up on that. I
can sing a little. I even have a little talent on the piano and
guitar. But I'd never want to sing in public."

"Sing it.  I won't laugh."

And so I sang softly:

	Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine,
	I'll taste your strawberries; I'll drink your sweet wine.
	A million tomorrows shall all pass away,
	Ere I forget all the joy that is mine today.

When I stopped, she smiled and asked, "Can you sing the next
part?"

"I don't remember it," I answered.

"I know it and I wouldn't be surprised if you do too." And she
sang in a voice no better or worse than mine:

	I'll be a dandy and I'll be a rover
	You'll know who I am by the song that I sing.
	I'll feast at your table, I'll sleep in your clover
	I'll something...something...

	"I really didn't remember it clearly. I thought it went
something like that. But if we marry, I'll never be a dandy or a
rover.  I'm honest with you when I say I want to be with you
until death do us part.  It's the second line I sang that I
thought about when I saw your breasts."

She looked down at her breasts and asked, "Strawberries?"

"Yes, that's what I've always thought that line referred to, his
lover's breasts. And I also believe the line about drinking her
sweet wine can only refer to one thing."

"You'd bury your face in this bush," and she gestured downward,
"to get to my sweet wine?"

"I love your bush," I replied. "Please don't ever shave it. If
you want it trimmed, I'd love to help with that occasionally. But
I want to see that red hair while I'm down there. You can check
my teeth to see if there's any hair before I go out the door."

"You really want to do that - for yourself or for me?"

"For myself. For some reason, that's a part of sex that I love.
It's a big turn-on for me. And I believe you'll learn to love it
too."

"I don't know how I'm going to be about sucking your dick. Will
it make you unhappy if I'm not as fond of oral sex as you are?"

"I hope I can give you thousands of orgasms using my mouth on
you. I know your cunt will be all wet and juicy when I do. It
won't bother me to get it in my mouth. I think you're probably
like most women. I believe they don't mind having their lover's
cock in their mouth; they just don't enjoy what happens when he
comes."

"I suppose you're right," she answered. "I've never done it that
long before.  I don't know whether I'd gag or spit it out or
swallow."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I'd like you to use your mouth
on me. But I don't have any real desire to come in your mouth. I
look at it as foreplay. I want to come in your vagina; that's the
place where it'll be the most satisfying for me, where it'll feel
totally right."

"So you're being honest if it turns out I don't want to make you
come with my mouth, when you do it for me?"

"If I didn't squirt out all those spurts of semen when I come,
would you be more willing and eager to do it?" I asked.

"I think so," she answered.

"Then quit worrying about it. I've told you it's not something
I'm obsessive about. If you ever do make me come in your mouth,
do what you want to with it: spit it out on my stomach, swallow
it, or even hold it long enough to come up and give me a kiss and
I'll share it with you."

"Damn, Kieran," she said, "that's a thought that really appeals
to me. Would you really let me do that?"

"Sure, I'll let you. I'll even help you, but now let me pose
another question to you. What do you think of anal sex?"

She frowned at me, with an expression of disgust. "I don't. I've
never done it and I don't think I'd ever want to."

"There's a reason I ask the question," I said. "Anal sex is
something I could do to you but there's no way you can do it to
me. It's a one-way street. It's something we can never share
equally.  We can share oral sex, even though we do it
differently. I brought it up to emphasize one point: if I ever
try to do anything to you or with you that you don't want to do,
just tell me. I'll never force you to do anything."

"Have you ever done it, anal sex, I mean?" she asked.

"Yes, once with a girl in college. I thought I loved her but,
when we first started having sex, she said something that cut
through me to my heart. I did it to her out of anger or meanness
or something like that. It was the last sex I ever had with her."

"What'd she do to make you feel like that?" she asked.

"I'll tell you some day when we're alone, relaxing with each
other, and there's no hurry to do anything. It might take an
afternoon or evening to tell you the whole story. And a short
version could never tell the whole truth of how I felt and why."

"Here," she said, handing me the pearl choker. "Put this around
my neck again and let's go to bed. You may do whatever you want
to fulfill your fantasy."

<><><>

In her bedroom, I was struck by the way in which she had
evidently prepared the scene. With the drapes drawn and the room
lit only by two small lights on each side of the bed, the world
seemed to be shut out. The bed had a blue and gold and ivory
spread that had already been folded down almost to the foot of
the bed. The pillows and sheets were a matching ivory color and
looked almost silky or satiny.

I stood with her at the foot of the bed, looking at it, and then
turned to her. I pulled her against me and bent my head to bring
my mouth down to hers.

That moment - when she was first pressed against me, both of us
nude, her breasts burning against my chest, my cock throbbing
against her stomach, our mouths and lips and tongues hungry for
the other, our arms wrapped around each other, both with a
buttocks hold on the other, believing and knowing for the first
time that our bodies would soon be joined - was seared into my
memory and will be there as long as I live.

She pulled away from me and moved onto the bed, stretching out on
one side, with her arms open to welcome and her legs spread to
reveal to me the area just below the flaming bush on her Mound of
Venus. It looked to me like the entrance to Heaven, the Pearly
Gates, except that her gates weren't pearly, perhaps pink or
coral.

I moved onto the bed too, and then on top of her. Her legs spread
wider, tempting me to enter the gates to heaven, but I reached
down and positioned my cock upward so that it was resting on her
stomach, pressed down by mine, imprisoned between us. I looked
her briefly in the eyes, kissed her softly, and then buried my
face in the curve of her neck, in the red hair covering the
pillow.

"Can we stay like this forever?" I asked.

"No, not forever, but at least for a while," she answered.

"You're really going to let me fulfill my fantasy about you?" I
asked. "You're not going to laugh at me no matter how silly some
of it seems?"

"I'll laugh with you," she responded. "I'm so happy that I'm
bubbling over. If you tickle me the wrong way, I'll probably
burst out in giggles and guffaws."

Eventually I rolled off her, stretched out on my side looking at
her. "Turn over, please, on your stomach," I requested.

She looked at me with questions in her eyes but did as I asked.
She turned her head toward me, to see what I wanted to do.

I began by simply placing one hand in the middle of her back.
Softly I moved it up to her neck, around her shoulders and down
her sides, feeling the soft mounds of her breasts pressed out
beneath her ribs. I moved downward then, to her ass, memorizing
the look and feel of it, making no effort to separate her cheeks
or legs. I moved down her legs, thighs, calves, feet, and then
started back up again. When I reached her ass, she started to
spread her legs but I stopped her.

I got up on my knees and moved over her body, straddling her at
about her knees. Now with both hands, I began to learn the feel
of her body, pressing harder this time, moving from thighs to ass
to back and to shoulders. When I massaged her back and shoulders,
she purred like a cat.

My cock was rigid now, sticking up at its typical angle. I leaned
over and down on her until my cock was pressed against the crack
of her ass.

"Can we stay like this forever?" I asked again, burying my face
in her red hair again, inhaling the fresh scent of hair and her
shampoo.

"I'll kill you if you do," she whispered.

"Then turn over," I instructed, still straddling her body on my
knees.

She did and then looked at me, my face first and then down toward
my cock.

"Is that for me?" she asked.

"Yes," I responded, "but not today. Next Saturday."

I placed both hands on her stomach and began the slow process of
learning the feel of her body, moving upward out of the bowl of
her stomach, over the plateau of her rib cage, to the sweet hills
of her breasts, the strawberry peaks erect and hard, down to her
shoulders, and then back down again toward the flaming bush that
was cradling my balls. I held my cock in one hand and moved it up
and down.

"Can I beat you with this?" I asked.

I swung it up and down more vigorously now, slapping it against
her stomach on each downward movement.  She giggled, then looked
up at me and saw the smile on my face.

"Can I try it?" she asked. I nodded wordlessly.

She reached down with one hand and repeated the same movement,
slapping it against her stomach, but also stroking the skin back
and forth. I knew better than to let her continue; I knew I would
soon spray a load onto that beautiful stomach and chest.

I moved off her and asked her to turn over on her stomach again.
This time I used my mouth, tracing a path from her shoulders,
down over her back, lingering only a moment on her ass, down her
legs to her feet.  When I bent back one leg at the knee and took
her toes in my mouth, she started giggling. When I ran my tongue
between her toes, one at a time, she must have understood that as
a signal of what was to come. She stopped and tried to look back
at me.

I started licking and kissing and sucking my way up her legs.
When I reached the juncture of her left thigh and ass cheek, I
remembered one little fantasy I had always wanted to do to a
woman. I kissed here in the crease and murmured, "Can I give you
a hickey right here?"

"Why?" she asked. "Isn't that a little weird?"

"No, it's something I've always wanted to do and never had the
courage to try. When I was looked at the girls on campus, I'd
imagine grabbing one, throwing her down on the ground, up with
her skirt and down with her panties, and then fastening my mouth
just here. I wanted to bite them and suck right here until I left
my mark on them. I thought it was strange too until one day a
bunch of us guys were talking about sex stuff and I brought it
up. They all looked at me for a minute and I thought they'd think
me a pervert. But then, one by one, they began to admit that
they'd like to do it too."

"OK, then," she said, "bite my butt."

With my nose just between her legs, I began sucking on her. A
couple of minutes later, when she began to squirm, I pulled off
and looked at my handiwork, I mean mouth work. It was a beautiful
passion purpura.

I continued up her back to her neck, kissing her and licking her
all along the way and then asked her to turn over again.

I looked directly into her eyes for a minute and then lowered my
lips to hers. She placed one hand behind my head and held me
tight while we opened our mouths to each other. When she released
me, I moved downward toward my final goal. I kissed her on her
neck first and then moved down to those beautiful breasts.

For a minute or so, all I could do was look at them. They were
somewhat flattened while she was on her back, but the nipples
were erect and did look somewhat like strawberries. I cupped her
breasts with both hands and lowered my mouth to one nipple. She
brought her hands up, pushed mine aside, and held her breasts up
to my mouth. I feasted on them, finally realizing part of my
fantasy about her. When I felt her squirming underneath me, I
decided it was time to move down to my final goal.

I stopped only momentarily on her navel and then proceeded down
through the flaming bush. I knew I'd never think of it in any
other way.

As I moved downward over her, I pulled her legs apart and placed
my knees between. When she was spread-eagled on the bed, I moved
back farther, so that I could lay down with my mouth directly at
her vulva. When I had seen her earlier, the inner lips had been
only slightly open; now they were spread out, like butterfly
wings, on each side and the opening into her was red and shining
with wetness.

I brought my mouth in contact with her and ran my tongue from the
bottom of her slit up to the top, licking up the juices coming
out of her. I heard her gasp once and then I started down and up
again. For a while I just licked at her, opening her up more with
each turn, until she was spread wide enough to welcome my cock.
Finally I stopped at the top, used my thumbs to pull apart the
soft flesh on each side and found her clitoris smiling up at me.
I began to alternate between licking it with my tongue and
sucking on it with my lips. It was only seconds when she grabbed
my head, pulled me roughly against her cunt, and started
throbbing in orgasm.

Finally, she made me stop.

"I can't take it any more," she said, breathlessly.

"You haven't taken it at all yet," I said, as I rose up on my
knees beside her. I wrapped my hand around my cock, still
bone-rigid after being erect for more than an hour.

"You know what I mean," she said, "I can't take your mouth on me
anymore. You've made me come three times already and that last
one seemed to last forever. I've got to rest a few minutes and
then I want to do something about that boner of yours."

I lay down beside her, my right hand holding her breast, looking
at her face. Her red hair was all tousled and spread out on the
pillow, framing her face. I knew I had never seen anyone more
beautiful.

We lay there for a while, quietly talking, my hand gently playing
with her breasts. At length, I felt her hand touching my hard-on.
She wrapped her hand around it and squeezed lightly. When she
pulled down toward the head, I knew she felt the lubrication that
poured out of the head of my penis.

"How can you stand it, to be like this for so long?" she asked.
"I can feel it drooling on my hand. Is the poor thing ready to be
satisfied?"

"Yes, I think it's ready, so do whatever you wish to relieve the
poor thing. And it always drools like that when I've been aroused
for a while.  You know you're going to have to wash the sheets
when we're done.  You're going to find pecker tracks all over it
wherever I touched down with it while I was between your legs."

She rolled over on her side and pushed me over on my back, still
holding on to my cock. As I stretched out, she started to move
her hand gently up and down.

"Is this the way you like it?" she asked. "Just holding onto the
skin and moving my hand up and down, without touching the head
directly?"

"Sure," I responded, "that works for me. If you stroke it on the
head, just don't do it with a dry hand. Make sure there's some
kind of lubrication, whether it's what comes out of me, or out of
your mouth, or maybe baby oil, if we're not going to be fucking.
I don't think you want baby oil inside you."

She stroked up and down for a while and I could feel the pressure
slowly building. I was about to ask her to do it faster when she
surprised me. She leaned over me and took the head of my cock in
her mouth, her red hair falling around her face so that I could
feel but not see what she was doing. She sucked strongly on the
head and then released the suction and ran her tongue around the
head, the corona, and especially the sensitive frenulum under the
head. Her hand movements became faster and I could feel the semen
beginning to boil up inside me, ready to be spurted out.

"Take your mouth off," I whispered. "I'm gonna come."

I was surprised when she ignored me. She seemed to try even
harder to make me come. A few more seconds and I knew I was going
to blast off. When it began, I was doubly surprised when she kept
her mouth still, covering the head of my penis, while I gave out
a long series of spurts. At length, I knew I was finished and
evidently she did too.

She straightened up on her knees, her hand on my chest now, and
looked directly in my eyes. Her mouth was pursed, holding in
everything, with a faint Mona Lisa-like smile playing around the
corners. She moved up toward my face bringing her mouth closer to
mine. Finally she stopped, her mouth only inches above mine, her
eyes still locked on mine. I suppose I understood what she wanted
because I opened my mouth wide.  When I did, she opened her lips
slightly, allowing the contents of her mouth to run out. I could
see a mixture of her saliva and the strands of my semen drooling
out of her, into my mouth. When she finished, I closed my mouth
but didn't swallow the contents.

She waited above me, watching me to see what I'd do. When I
swallowed the first time, she brought her mouth down to mine,
pushed my lips open with her tongue, and kissed me with a
ferocity that again surprised me. I rolled her over on her back,
our mouths still together. I could feel and taste the semen still
in my mouth. I pushed my tongue into her mouth repeatedly,
playing at fucking her mouth with my tongue. She held my head
behind with one hand, pulling me against her. After a few more
seconds, she pushed me back down and I rolled over on my back
again. We kept at it again and again, rolling over and over,
tongue-fucking each other, swallowing the remnants of my come and
our combined saliva.

At length, she pulled away from me, out of breath. My chest was
heaving as much as hers was. Her eyes never left mine.

"I've never done that before," she whispered. "I didn't think I'd
want to, but when I felt your cock in my mouth, I wanted it all.
Did I do good?"

<><><>

Afterward we lazed around in bed for an hour or two. I
occasionally kissed her gently, the long open-mouthed kisses that
I was convinced were her favorites. I would suck softly on her
nipples and lick her breasts, while fingering her pussy. She was
sopping wet down there and my fingers slipped in and out with no
resistance. She played with my cock off and on, not trying to
raise it to erection, just satisfied to keep it in a half-hard
state.

At length, we got up for another shower together. Afterwards we
pulled out more of the deli food and ate, still naked together,
sitting on the floor on a blanket.

We finally curled up together on the bed and turned on the
television. She found an old movie we both liked and we watched
that, still playing with each other. My cock was drooling again
and she moved down on the bed and watched it, milking it with one
hand and rubbing the lubrication around on the head with the one
finger. Occasionally she'd take it in her mouth and lick it
clean.

"Could we do something new," I asked, "at least new for us?"

"What's that?" she responded.

"The French call it soixante-neuf; we call it sixty-nine."

"I told you I'm no expert at oral sex. I know about it but I've
never done it. Do you really like it?" she asked.

"It can be done with either of us on top. I don't think you'd
like me to be on top because you can't control how much of my
cock is in your mouth. If I get carried away, I could gag you or
hurt you. If you're on top, you can do whatever you want to my
cock. I can do whatever I want to your cunt. But there's one
thing wrong with it from my perspective. I like to lick you
upward, toward your clit. In sixty-nine, I'm licking in the wrong
direction and I don't think you'd enjoy it as much.

I turned around, with my head toward the foot of the bed and
tugged at her to get her to straddle my face. At first she was on
her hands and knees above me and seemed unsure of what to do
next. I pulled her body down until she was lying on top of me,
her breasts on my lower stomach, and her cunt just below my chin.
When she relaxed on me, I used my hands to lift her hips just a
few inches until I could tilt my head and bring my mouth in
contact with her cunt. Her lips were just slightly open, already
a rosy pink and glistening with her juices. I began licking her,
long licks from her clitoral shaft, back over her vaginal lips,
even to the rosy bud of her anus. When my tongue touched her
there, she stiffened. I mumbled to her to relax and enjoy it,
that she was perfectly clean back there. I went back to licking
her and felt her take the head of my cock in her mouth.

I tried to figure out how to get her clitoris out from under its
hood, to get to it. I finally managed to get my hands under her
so that my thumbs were both pointing inward. After a little blind
feeling, I managed to get them in position to stretch the soft
flesh of her outer lips apart, hoping that would pull the hood
back. When I resumed with my tongue, I could feel the hard bump
with the tip. I heard her moan and she began to suck harder on my
cock.

The outside world began to recede and I closed my eyes, lost in
the taste and scent and feel of her. I was conscious only of what
my mouth was doing with her and what hers was doing to me.

Seconds? Minutes? Hours? No time? Who knows? At some point, she
began to squirm against my face, pressing back against me. I took
that as a signal that she was about to come and so I concentrated
on the area around her clitoris, trying to suck it into my mouth,
flicking my tongue up and down against it. Suddenly she pressed
back against me even harder, covering my mouth and nose so that I
couldn't breathe. I could barely feel her contractions as she
started groaning. When I couldn't hold it any longer, I dropped
my head down and caught my breath. I could feel her chest heaving
for breath on top of me.

After a minute or so, she resumed her efforts on my cock. She
held the head in her mouth, rapidly stroking up and down on the
shaft. I let time and surroundings fade away again. All too soon,
I felt the rising tide of semen demanding release. I wasn't sure
whether she wanted me to come in her mouth and so, at the last
second, I said her name and whispered, "I'm coming."

She took her mouth off my cock and turned her head to one side,
trying to look back at me. "What did you say?"

At just that moment, my body let loose, spurting into open air,
come landing I knew not where. She stayed on top of me until I
was finished and, with one lick, I assumed, she got the last
oozing drops. When she turned around, I couldn't help but laugh.
She had dripping come across one cheek and all around her mouth
and chin. She smiled at me.

"Pardonnez-moi, monsieur," she said, "Avez-vous a fucking towel?"

<><><>

We turned out the lights early and curled up with each other,
talking about everything, jumping from one subject to another. 
Finally, she turned her back to me and spooned up against me.
When I wrapped one arm around her, she took my hand in hers and
held it against her breast. I don't remember fading away into
sleep.

<><><>

On Sunday morning, I woke up with her curled up next to me, one
arm across my chest, and one leg thrown over mine. My cock was
bone hard as it often was if I woke up with a full bladder. I
lifted her arm and pushed her leg off me and tried to quietly
slip out of bed.

"Don't go," she said, eyes still closed, sleep still in her
voice.

"Gotta pee," I said. "I'll be right back."

She opened her eyes and watched me as I stood up and walked
toward the bathroom. My stiff cock was standing out, bobbing up
and down with each step. When I stood over the toilet, it took me
a couple of minutes to get it to relax enough to relieve myself.
By the time I finished, my penis was only half tumescent. I
washed my face, dried it, and went back in the bedroom.

She had thrown back the sheet and lay naked before me, stretching
and moaning with pleasure as she woke up. I stood at the foot of
the bed and watched, wishing that I could remember this moment as
long as I lived. Finally she crawled out of bed and stood up.

"Gotta pee," she said. "I'll be right back."

When she came back a few minutes later, she smiled at me and then
came to me, wrapped her arms around me, pressed against me, and
laid her head against my shoulder.

"Can we do what I often like to do on Sunday morning?" I asked.

"Not yet," she murmured, "not until next weekend."

"Seriously, I'd like to go get us a newspaper and something for
breakfast," I said. "I like to read the paper, have breakfast in
bed, and do the crossword puzzle. In the Sunday edition, it's
always hardest."

"That's fine with me," she answered, "I know a great bakery
that's open this morning. You'll find a paper there too." She
pushed away from me and looked up into my eyes. "There's only one
thing you need to do before you go."

"Take a shower. You do smell a little sexy and I'm sure I do too.
Then put on some jeans and a shirt. I'll shower while you're gone
and then I'll make a pot of coffee."

<><><>

When I returned, I smelled fresh coffee as soon as I opened the
door. I could hear her humming a tune in the bedroom so I walked
in. She was standing in front of a mirror, completely naked,
brushing her hair. I stood watching her for a minute or so. She
was watching me in the reflection of the mirror.

"Do you really like watching me comb my hair that much?" she
asked. "Is it really such a turn on for you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, pretending that I wasn't getting a
hard-on from just looking at her.

She walked over to me, pulled my knit shirt up, unsnapped my
jeans and pulled them down around my hips. My penis popped out,
already well on its way to another rigid erection.

"This is what I mean," she said, "I think I've found what I want
for breakfast, and maybe lunch and dinner. Would you call that a
sausage or a hot dog?"

"Oh, no, you don't," I replied. "I want to spend a quiet morning
with you. Let's have some croissants and coffee and read the
paper."

"I fixed something else for breakfast while you were gone," she
said. "It's a bowl of fruit. Would you get it out of the
refrigerator?"

When I pulled it out of the fridge I saw that it was cut up
bananas and red cherries. I wondered if there was something
symbolic about that.

After we finished breakfast and the paper and the puzzle, I
decided to see is she was willing to allow one more barrier to be
broken down.

"You do understand what I'm trying to do with you, don't you?" I
asked.

"I think so," she replied, "you're testing me to see what I'm
willing to do with you. You needn't worry. I'm not a prim and
proper person. I've never done anything sexually that I haven't
liked."

"I think of it as breaking down barriers. If we're going to have
the sort of relationship I want, we've got to be totally naked
with each other in the physical sense but in all other ways too.
I want to know your body and your mind as well as I know my own.
I don't want you to think that there's something wrong with
opening ourselves up to each other totally."

"That's easy for you to say," she answered. "You're not the one
who has to open up; you just fill the opening."

"I can't argue with that, but let's try something that doesn't
require me to fill the opening. I want to see you masturbate
while I'm doing it too."

"That's kind of silly, isn't it?" she said. "Why should we do
that when we've got each other?"

"'Cause it's what I want. I want you to prop up against the
headboard with me at the foot. We'll cover the bed with towels. I
want to watch you do yourself. And I'll jerk off while you're
doing it."

She moved up to the top of the bed, with a pillow behind her and
spread her legs out in a vee.  I moved to the bottom of the bed
and did the same. We found, with our long legs, that presented a
problem. Out feet overlapped. She solved the problem by raising
hers and putting them back down on my ankles.

I started first, wrapping my hand in the usual way around the
shaft of my cock. I pulled upward and my foreskin slid over the
head; I pulled downward and the head was totally exposed, with
the skin on my dick stretched tight downward. I continued slowly,
looking all the time at the area between her legs.

She dropped her hand down there, slowly teased the lips apart,
and inserted one finger. Within a minute or so, the lips splayed
open by themselves, showing their coral-colored flesh inside,
glistening in the light with her secretions. She kept rubbing in
the same area, inside her, changing to two fingers, and I could
see that they quickly became wet with her juices. Only then did
she move her fingers upward toward her clitoris. I don't know
what I expected, maybe that she would pull back the clitoral hood
and stroke it with her fingers. But she seemed to want to avoid
direct contact of fingers and clit.  She held the two fingers,
one on each side of her clit, and rubbed sideways for a while and
then up and down. Occasionally she would reach downward for more
lubrication.

I watched, fascinated, almost forgetting to do what I was
supposed to do. When I remembered, I decided that I wanted my
cock to be lubricated too and, if I couldn't produce it as well
as she could, I'd ask for it.

"Do you have any baby oil?" I asked.

"In the bathroom, in the second drawer on the left. It's not baby
oil. It's after-bath oil and it will smell girly instead of baby.
But I think it'll do."

I returned a minute later and got into position. As I started to
open it, she asked, "Why do you need it? I thought you could jack
off without lubrication."

"I can. I could probably fuck you when your cunt's not
lubricated. But I know that's not going to be any great pleasure
for either of us. If I'm doing it for myself, this makes it
better, especially at the end if I get a little rough on my
cock."

I poured a small amount on the head of my cock and smeared it all
over the head and shaft. Then I went back to stroking it. She
didn't have anything else to say to me and I certainly didn't
either. We watched each other. I was open mouthed, breathing
heavily. She was the same, except that I could see a pink or red
flush on her chest and on her breasts. I tried to slow down a
little, not wanting the pleasure of watching her while stroking
my cock to end. When we started, I knew my balls were hanging
down low between my legs, my scrotum completely relaxed and soft.
But now it was drawn up tight against the base of my cock, both
balls enclosed in one rounded mound. I knew that was the typical
response when I was about to come.

She reached down with the other hand and pulled upward on the
skin above her cunt. She moved the first hand aside for a moment
and I could see the small protrusion of her clit, bright red and
glistening. She started stroking again, gently rubbing against
her clitoris. I watched, feeling my own orgasm building, while
she rubbed. When I looked up at her face, her smile had turned
into some sort of grimace, as I knew mine did when I was coming.
I pulled downward on the skin of my dick with one hand and began
to stroke up and down over the head, my hand flying as fast as I
could make it. She was rubbing herself faster and faster too. It
seemed to have turned into a race and I lost.

I groaned with the first spurt. It flew out and landed about
halfway between us. The other spurts laid down a trail back
toward my crotch. I milked the last few out on the towel between
my legs.

I suppose she started to come after I did. I could see her body
tense up and she stopped rubbing. She was breathing as heavily as
I was. We both looked up at about the same time, our eyes
interlocking.

<><><>

After lunch, we watched another old movie on television, fooling
around with each other all the time. When the movie was over, she
didn't protest when I crawled back between her legs. This time, I
got on my knees between her legs, put both hands under her butt,
and lifted her up until I could bend over slightly and bring my
mouth to her cunt. It was an awkward position but, to me, it was
like serving a hearty meal to a starving man. I licked and sucked
all over her cunt before setting down to her clitoris. She moaned
loudly when her orgasm hit and I almost dropped her.  I managed
to keep her suspended in mid-air and my mouth on her cunt until
my arms finally gave out.

I dropped her back down on the bed and turned her sideways, her
legs still spread, her calves hanging down. I moved off the bed
and kneeled down beside, bent over with my face still at her
cunt. I kept licking her, gently now, licking up the juices
flowing out of her, stiffening my tongue and fucking her with it,
slurping up over her clitoris. I wanted to see if women were
really capable of multiple orgasms so close together; I knew I
wasn't. After a few minutes, I learned the answer; she was. When
she finished, I leaned over her, my head on her stomach, my hands
on her breasts, while she rested.

"You will take my last name, won't you?" I asked. "If you combine
your name, Sioned, with my last name, Stuart, I think it has a
pleasing effect on the tongue. Sioned Stuart. Sioned Stuart."

"The next time your tongue is busy between my legs, how about
saying Sioned Stuart about a hundred times?" she giggled. "If you
do, I'll take your last name."

We probably stayed that way for ten or fifteen minutes. Finally,
she pushed me back and rose up to a sitting position on the side
of the bed.

"Stand up," she ordered. "You've been a very bad boy to do me
like that and now you're going to get it."

I wasn't sure what IT was but I was ready. When I stood up, my
cock was pointing upward from my body at a forty-five degree
angle. The head was drooling with the clear lubrication that
always came out.

She pulled it down so that it was pointed straight at her face
and licked the head clean. When that was done to her
satisfaction, she opened her mouth and engulfed the head of my
cock. She started sucking with all the strength she could muster
and at the same time moving her hand up and down my shaft as fast
as possible. I knew I wasn't going to last long.

She brought her other hand up, cupping my balls in the palm of
her hand, pressing her fingers into the area just behind my
scrotum.

"I'm gonna come," I said.

She took her mouth off momentarily and said, "Then do it." When
she started sucking again, I felt I had given her fair warning
and she could do whatever she wanted to with my load.

I suppose that it was an involuntary reaction. I grabbed her
behind her head and starting moving my hips back and forth,
fucking her mouth. It took only seconds and I came, spurt after
spurt, all deposited at the back of her mouth.

She was holding her breath. When I finished, she pushed me back
until my cock was out of her mouth. She looked up at me and
swallowed.

<><><>

When we finally went to sleep Sunday night, we were face to face,
our arms and legs intertwined. When we woke up on Monday morning
to the alarm clock, she was spooned up against me. My arm was
wrapped around her, my hand holding her breast. My cock was
semi-erect between her thighs, with its usual morning need to
pee.

I thought to myself, "I could really get to like this."

<><><>

"And now here we are," my wife said, "in the same position, with
two kids asleep in their rooms and another inside me, just
waiting to make a grand entrance."

"Yes," I answered, "isn't it wonderful?

"You're right," she answered. "We've made ourselves a wonderful
family."

"So now," I asked, "may I turn you over on your back, lift your
nightgown, and make love to you with my mouth again, like I did
back then?"

"If you're sure you're doing it because you want to, not just to
make me happy. But don't be surprised if I don't come. With the
pressure from the baby, I'm not sure how everything will
respond."

I wasn't surprised. She did come, not once but twice, once for
each time I said her name.

And our third child, our second son, Kerry, was born in less than
three weeks. He was and is a beautiful perfect boy.

TO BE CONTINUED:





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