Message-ID: <48648asstr$1091185802@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <anon584c@nyx.net> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <200407300815.i6U8FSiW029480@nyx.nyx.net> From: anon584c@nyx.net (Uther Pendragon) Reply-To: anon584c@nyx.net x-archive-expire: 2005-01-01 X-No-Archive: Yes X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 30 Jul 2004 02:15:28 -0600 Subject: {ASSM} new "RTFM 4" {Uther} (MF msolo M1st) [4/4] Lines: 660 x-asstr-message-id-hack: 48648 Date: Fri, 30 Jul 2004 07:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2004/48648> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, RuiJorge If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else. This material is Copyright, 2004, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. =--= RTFM by Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net Chapter 4, conclusion: Marge got another sitter, Mary, for their next date. John drove Mary home and returned. Marge was in a nightgown and robe when she let him in. She put a finger to her lips. They sat on the sofa and necked in total silence for ten minutes before Marge left to check on her toddler. John took the opportunity to shed shoes, socks, and undershirt. He put his shirt back on, with two buttons done, and slipped the contraceptive from the interior of his wallet to his back pocket. Marge returned smiling and relaxed. "She's down for hours." They kissed again and his tongue played with hers. He weighed her breast in his hand and tickled the nipple through the cloth. He eased her robe off as she undid his shirt. They broke to remove these completely. He kissed her again and then started a trail of kisses from her mouth across her face to her ear. He held her tight as she wiggled at this teasing. Then he trailed kisses and licks down her neck to her shoulder. He moved the strap out of his way as he went. Then he kissed and nuzzled a path to her breast, moving cloth as he went. When he was licking her nipple, he moved off the couch and eased her down on the length of it. Kneeling on the floor, he pulled the other side of the nightgown down and kissed the other nipple. She shrugged out of the top of the gown and pulled his chin toward hers. As they kissed, he stroked her torso and thigh. He pulled her gown higher and trailed his hand along the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. Her legs parted more. He stroked his hand upward between them, brushing a thigh on either side. When he came to the juncture, he clasped her vulva with his hand and broke the kiss to stare into her eyes. "Oh, Marge!" She smiled, and began stroking his right arm. He bent to lick her far breast from the bottom to the peak. She tasted of salt and of herself. He licked over the smooth skin to the rough areola, and then teased the nipple with the lightest touches his tongue could manage. She pulled his head down and he took as much of the breast into his mouth as he could. He pulled up until all but the nipple had eased out against his suction, then took a little more in and started to tease the nipple again. Meanwhile he played with her labia before slipping a finger between them. She was fairly damp and he moved his finger around in the dampness before stroking upward. He stopped partway to the top and returned to the very bottom of the labia. His next stroke was slower and moved a millimeter higher. He eased his suction on her breast and kept just the nipple in his mouth. He would suck it, then lick it, then move it in and out with his lips. He kept stroking her cleft, bringing his finger a mite higher each time. She started to push her hips down to move her clitoris toward his finger. He returned to her vaginal vestibule and tried to move even more slowly. Her hip movements had a regular rhythm now, and he sucked her breast to its time. One stroke of his finger met her clitoris and she gasped. He returned his finger to the vestibule and pushed it within. Her hips moved more rapidly. He stoked up the full length of her cleft again, passing over her clitoris. He kept up that stroke in time to her movements as he tried to undo his belt and trousers with his left hand. When these were open, he slipped the packet out of his pocket. He removed his mouth from her breast long enough to tear the foil with hand and teeth. Then he moved to her near breast. He couldn't seem to feel her clitoris any more, but he continued his stroking and her hips continued their response. She was breathing hard and looking worried. She tugged hard at his arms. He pulled away and stood up. The trousers fell when he did so and one step took his right leg out of them. He pushed his shorts down, checked the direction of the condom, and rolled it on. A few hairs caught and he had to pull them out. Then he knelt between her thighs. He covered her with his torso and she placed him. His entering thrust met her spreading and raising hips. When he was fully within, she sank down on the couch and put her hands on his shoulders. He lifted himself on his arms, and began to stroke slowly in and out. Her eyes met his and then her expression turned inward. She looked worried, then almost in pain. Then his sensations caught him up and he wasn't noticing her face anymore. He withdrew until only the tip was held and then drove through a silky sliding tunnel until he was clasped on all sides and his groin hit her mound. Then they fell together inches which felt like miles. The change of angle started to pull him out and he continued the move, feeling her tunnel try to hold him back as he slid back through the slick hug. His glans passed through a clinging collar and he stopped at the entrance to paradise for the instant he could before the sensations made him return. As he drove in, she rose to hold him and then ease him down. This repeated, but it became all one sensation. Then she clawed at his buttocks to draw him more tightly in. He drove into her with all his strength. He pulsed, drove again without withdrawing, pulsed. She was speaking, she clasped around him. But there was only himself, his rod. He shook in that pulsing warmth, thrust, shot, thrust, shot. He was one streaming stalk of nerve endings. He was limp nothingness floating on softness and hipbones which gradually coalesced into a living, breathing, gasping Marge. He reached down to retain the condom as he slipped out of her. She shifted so that more of his weight was against the back of the couch. His breathing slowed and he caught himself falling asleep. He got up and headed for the bathroom with his underpants. He chucked the condom, rinsed himself off, and returned in his shorts. "Sorry. I must have been heavy." "I'm in no condition to complain. Did you really tuck me in last time?" "You looked like you needed it. Was I supposed to leave you lying on the floor? I just worried later that I hadn't set the alarm." "No worry. I have a self-setting one in the same room." A long pause. "You know, you don't have to use those." John had known this was coming. College sophomores didn't do things because daddy told them to. He had worked out a moral stance which he more than half believed. "Look. I know you use the pill. That is your responsibility, and you take it. I have a responsibility too. I've seen your struggles with the Katydid. What you are doing by yourself is noble. I'm not prepared to do that. I have three years to go in school before I'm ready to either support or care for a kid. "So I need to take precautions, as well. I'm not responsible if I don't use contraception. I'm not responsible if I leave it up to you. That doesn't mean that I don't trust *you* to be responsible. It means that putting the burden on you is *my* not being responsible. I don't know if that makes any sense." "It makes some. John, you are a good person. Almost nobody is." "Consult my sister on that. She thinks that I am a monster." "Look, I need to think, and to sleep. Let's call it a night." "Sure." After he dressed, her kiss was as deep and aggressive as any they'd shared. He would have been ready to start over if she hadn't already rejected that. - = - He called her the next evening. After his usual thanks for her going out with him, he started to ask her for a date in the next week. "Do you think we might..." "No but." She paused to let him hear that. "But I'm inviting you here a week from Sunday. 10:30, if that's okay with you." "Fine." "This time, it's my food. You don't bring anything to eat or drink. I'm serious." "Okay." "What you always bring, however, ..." "Hmmm? Gotcha." "Bring two." At that, she hung up without waiting to say 'goodbye.' He brought two. He also brought flowers for Marge and a book for The Katydid. He had walked to the front of the bookstore with _Horton Hatches an Egg_ before deciding that Marge might take that as an offer he was not willing to make. Hearing a Who would be much safer. He read to her from the book after lunch. It went really fast with her turning the pages, but still didn't catch her attention. She settled on the couch and two adults turned on the television and prayed for her to fall asleep. When she did, Marge led John into the bedroom. Soon their attention turned from listening to kissing. Marge was almost the aggressor and unbuttoned his shirt for him. Their kisses became wilder and deeper, he undressed her to her panties and sucked on her breasts before she asked him for the two condoms. It was the first thing she had said since speaking to Katy. She put them on the night stand beside the bed and then simply lay down. He removed his shoes and socks before joining her. She was silent again, but she kissed more deeply and sloppily than she had ever done. She even kissed his body and sucked on a nipple. He was surprised to find that this caused an erection both there and below. He reciprocated and she pulled him to her breast. He sucked as much as he could into his mouth and then moved to the other. She hugged him to her and he reached for her mound. He caressed her through the panties and clasped the whole delta in his hand. She reached to push the panties down, and he pulled them the rest of the way off. He removed his own trousers and shorts and rejoined her. He stroked up the line of her inner thighs and she moved her legs apart for him. He clasped the delta again, this time without intervening cloth. The tips of his fingers, which he had expected to get sopping, were barely damp. He took another deep, if brief kiss from her mouth, and then began kissing a path down her face and throat. He continued down to her far breast. There, his mouth climbed the hill and sucked the peak. Her nipple hardened and he parted her labia. There seemed to be more liquid now. He stroked from the bottom of he slit to the top, sliding over her clit. He closed the labia again and took to rolling the outer lips against each other. While doing that, he licked a path from the far breast to the near one. He licked a ring around the areola and then blew across it. She shivered, and the nipple stood straight up. He licked the nipple, beginning with one stroke along the side facing him and then moving around and taking strokes from almost every direction. By this time, Marge's hips were working and pushing her mound up against his hand. He again parted her labia and tested her with two fingers. She was much juicier than before. He started to suck her nipple while he bathed his finger in the secretions. Then he stroked upward in her cleft. He stopped halfway to her clit and returned for more lubrication. He did this five more times, always going higher, always stopping. On the seventh stroke he passed her clit, with a finger brushing it from each side. She sat up a little, then settled back down on the bed. He returned for more lubrication, stroked upward again, and settled into circling strokes over the clitoral area. Marge was breathing in gasps. She reached for him. He grabbed one of the packets, managed to get it on right and climbed between her legs. She raised and spread her knees and guided him in. He eased through her portal and then stroked forward until their pubic hairs linked. He stopped there to feel the warm pressure on all of his cock. Almost as sensual was the joy of possession. Some days he still could not believe that he was really fucking Margo. The glorious crowing of that thought contrasted with the tenderness and erotic generosity he sometimes felt for Marge. He slipped back and the warm friction thrilled him. He thrust forward and Marge pushed to meet him. Both the pure sensation and the erotic cognition were intensely sensual. Then Marge was raising, rolling and dropping her hips. He grabbed her shoulders. His hips were pumping to meet hers, but it was an effort to just hang on. At that intensity, it could not last long. He slammed into her even harder than she was moving, and kept pressing inward as he erupted. She was only two beats behind and kept moving against him until he was drained. They both collapsed. He felt her roll him over and thought that he should say something. "Oh Marge." "Hush. I'll be back." She was back quite soon, in a robe and carrying a washcloth. She gestured him back when he started to sit up. Bemused, he lay there and watched her strip the latex from him and then wash his genitals. He was 18, his penis stirred and straightened. She set down the cloth and kissed him again on the mouth. She looked as if she had been crying, or was about to cry. The kiss, however, was deep and aggressive. Their tongues played until she broke the kiss. She kissed his face and then his chest. She licked and sucked both nipples until they were hard. Then her mouth traveled lower. She kissed him across his belly, now tensed and rigid. She skipped to his thigh and then kissed the top of his glans. She circled the tip with her lips and then literally sucked him inside. She exhaled through her nose and sucked again. Most of the shaft came inside. He was as hard as stone. She abandoned him for a moment to reach for the second packet. She gathered him in her lips again and bobbed her head up and down as she tore open the packet. She let him go and rolled the condom over his stiffness. She straddled him on hands and knees so that a breast was dangling in his face. He took the hint, and a nipple. She ran her fingernails up and down his sides while he sucked. Then she reached for his phallus and straightened. She sat back and positioned him, then sank down. He wasn't quite straight and he caught. She shifted and impaled herself, surrounding his shaft. The consciousness of being engulfed reinforced the sensation of the warm, gentle clasp of her flesh around his. She eased herself down until her hips were resting on his groin, then bent forward until her other breast was offered to him. He lifted it forward to his lips with his left hand and held it there while he played with the nipple. Simply bending like that had pulled her a little bit off, and any more motion threatened to lose their connection. She pressed back until he was securely inside. Then she started to move her hips in a horizontal circle over his groin. The feeling was a constant rubbing against different parts of her vagina without appreciable movement in or out. The sensation was infinitely sensuous but he felt no urgency. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the nipple in his mouth, pressing it almost all the way out, then sucking nipple and areola in, then holding it in his lips while he bathed the tip with his tongue. He raised his right hand to hold her other breast. He played with that nipple with his thumb. His self absorption and sensual bliss lasted for some time, then consciousness of Marge's gasping broke though his happy haze. He opened his eyes and focused on her face. She was grimacing. Either the position was causing her pain, or she was nearing a climax. He stroked her side in a gesture which was meant to convey sympathy in the first case. When she took no notice, he decided that this was sexual tension. She, like him, was slick with sweat. He swept some of it off as he ran his hand down her side. Then he gripped her flexing haunch. Her breath came faster, the sweet muscle he held started to quiver, her motions became erratic and simply side-to-side. Then her internal muscles gripped him. There was no warning, just rhythmic clenches. He thrust up into them, with no noticeable effect. This seemed to go on forever. She had turned bright red and her face looked like she was undergoing torture. Then she sobbed. She dropped onto one of his thrusts, then collapsed onto his chest. He let go with his lips and got his left hand out of the way barely in time. He felt two quivers around his organ, then nothing. Even the thigh in his right hand softened. She gasped on his chest, and each motion eased him out a little. He finally popped free, still erect. He hugged her with one arm and patted her back with his other. It seemed appropriate, if not adequate. She had broken out in a renewed sweat, but that didn't explain the amount of moisture running down the crook of his neck where she had buried her face. He held her while her crying slowed and stopped. She had Kleenex on the night stand, and took two of them to dry her eyes and blow her nose. She didn't explain, and he didn't ask. She reached back and touched his softened phallus. Then she moved down his body. Her breasts pressed against his belly as she kissed his nipples once more. She reached back again and held his scrotum. The touch was feather light on his testes, the suction was determined on his nipple. He rose to the occasion. She settled herself around him again. This time the entry was not quite so smooth. He guessed that the condom might have dried out. She took him all in, however, before beginning a new motion. For this, she sat bolt upright and shifted slightly from side to side. This brought some in-and-out motion but most of the friction was from the sideways motion itself. His mouth was out of play, but his hands weren't. He held a breast in each and played with her nipples with his thumbs. She started an up-and- down motion which increased his tension without seeming to promise relief. He dropped his right hand to hold her thigh, then to scratch it lightly with the backs of his nails. She moved straight up and down, and whipped her head back and forth. He reached between her thighs to finger the top of the mound just next to her clit. She was throbbing against his phallus and then she pushed herself so far down his shaft that his hand was trapped. He pulled his hand out and levered himself over. He was beside her and then over her. He was hard and wanting and he drove into her, swung nearly out, and drove in again. She caught the rhythm and matched it, pushing back at him and then dropping down. All his movement was in his hips, rotating them hunched his groin against and then away form hers. And then, when her clench began again, his legs drove him forward while his hips drove him in. That thrust shoved her two inches up the bed. They were pressed together, and their tremors were their only movement as they both came. His was over first. He lay there with her quim squeezing his softening penis until she was done. Soon after that, she rolled over. He dropped to the bed. This time he really slept. It was late afternoon when he awoke, his clothes were on the bed and there was noise through the closed door from Marge and her daughter. He dressed before stumbling out, and found the toddler finishing up dinner. He continued on to the bathroom and, when he came out, Katy was ready for more Horton. They hit mostly different pages this time, so she was getting variety if not a continuous story. Before Marge began Katy's bedtime ritual, he took his leave. "Look, I'll call..." he started. "Not this week. It's a killer. Besides, I have to think. Call next Sunday or after." - = - He called the next Sunday. She was out at 11:15, at 12:10. She was in at 2:00. "Sorry. We were at church. The Lutheran one two blocks away has activities for Katy's age group during services." "Did I hurt you by zonking out last week?" "Darling, it was a compliment. It's not you. It's just that I've been doing too much chasing after a social life this summer that hasn't included Katy. "You are a special person, John Kostner. Don't think that I am saying no to you. I'm saying no to an old part of me." "I'll call again." "Do that. But don't think of me as your social life. Katydid says 'Thank's for the book.' I read it to her each night." He called again, and once again. The conversations were pleasant. The second one was terminal. - = - Sylvia Kostner had mentioned no more about her son's new social life than was absolutely necessary to establish whether he would be in for meals. Her blithe ignorance was an affectation which didn't fool John for a moment. The evening after his last phone conversation with Marge, his mother asked him to stack the washer and then went into the living room. As he came through afterwards, she caught him. "Come sit. Or are you off somewhere?" Clearly he wasn't. He sat. "You seem to have fallen off a dance card," she said. "Dad is ashamed of me and you tease me about my lousy social life. I should have stayed in Cambridge." "You looked for a job in Cambridge. I wanted to sell that car. If I were inclined to tease you for poor social life, I would have started earlier. And your father is proud of you. You two are too much alike to be comfortable with each other, but he's certainly proud of his son. Tell me, is there a self-pity gland which takes the overflow from blocked libido? You should have taken biology at the Institute." "He certainly hasn't been expressing pride recently." He wasn't about to follow her diversions. "He's very proud of your intellect and accomplishments. And your work performance at your job. Off work, this summer hasn't been you finest hour." "I don't see where my supposed misdemeanor is any worse than Debbie's." "Your sister thinks you a moral idiot. She has evidence." "I think she'd say, 'immoral idiot'." She wasn't chasing diversions either. "We can't talk about Debbie's supposed sex life." "The human gestation period is longer than five months, Mother. And nobody has any problem talking about mine." "About two years longer in your case. And anything Debbie has heard about you is from yourself. Anyway, consider this purely hypothetical situation: When a young couple want to get married and can't it is wrong for them to take the privileges of marriage without the responsibilities. Quite wrong. But quite understandable." "Your church would forgive." "Jesus would forgive Hitler. And understand. The church either would forgive or would sin. Churches do both, frequently." "And gossip." "Even more frequently. Anyway, ... "If your father died today," she continued, "I wouldn't look at another man. Ever. If he had died when you two were small, I would have remarried, and remarried for love." "Anyone I know?" He couldn't follow this curve, but it would get back to the subject. Perhaps this week. "No-one specific. 'For love' because I'm the sort of woman who needs to marry for love. 'Remarry' because a family takes two parents. Now, a widow or a divorced woman raising a child... This is another hypothetical, mind you. Such a woman needs to meet the man who will take on her family. That is a given. How such a woman does that is a matter of intelligence and options. Had that -- purely hypothetical -- woman asked me, I would have suggested that bedding Smith improves the odds of wedding Smith only slightly and reduces the odds of wedding Jones much worse. But then I wasn't asked. "What any woman does in that situation is tactical. There is no morality in it. I wouldn't judge her at all. I would, however, slice her throat before I would let her destroy *my* child's future to secure her's." "Purely hypothetical," he said. "Purely hypothetical. And only if slicing her throat was my only option. There has never been a woman who threatened my family in that way. "Now take the situation where the woman is looking for a potential husband and a man who is *not* a potential husband misleads her. That man is reducing her child's chance for a future. That is not the deed of a hero." "Did either you or dad ... ?" "Your father worried. I didn't. The reason that a marriage would be poisonous for you now make you really undesirable to a woman with a young child. Two people in love, people who were marriage material anyway, caring for their kid, seeing the future opening up each week they struggle toward the degree, go through hell! Consider how much worse it is for two people who aren't that committed, people who aren't caring for their joint child." "And you didn't point this out to anybody?" "Judicious letting alone solves most of the problems in the world. Why call attention to any resources that you might have beyond your own pitiful pay? You know, your father was a very good judge, and we say 'everybody knows that.' What's your guess? Do five percent of the county know that he *was* a judge at all?" "And if I should make a set speech to this totally hypothetical person laying out that I was *not* prepared to raise a child? ..." "She would, quite reluctantly I'm certain," [The twinkle in her eye implied that she was not certain at all. For once, John trusted his take on a human issue better than his mother's.] "decide that you were no longer date material." "And nobody, despite the innuendoes, knows whether it went beyond simple holding hands." "And not even I, the world's leading expert in the behavior of the male Kostner under sexual frustration and under sexual satiation, knows. But that leads to an entirely new subject." "Which is?" "Given that you were interested in dates, and have some free time, you should look for other dates." "Mother, the summer is more than half over." "Remember Dawn Rogers?" "Year behind me, nice girl, took her to two dances. No chemistry at all." "She is going to Boston University in the Fall. Could probably use some pointers about the big city." "No chemistry in Wisconsin will be no chemistry in Massachusetts. So why does she want to know me?" "Because you know lots of boys in Boston. You'd make a great co-conspirator. And, in return, I'd bet the sex ratio is better at B.U. than at MIT." "The only college in known space with a worse sex ratio is the College of Cardinals." "So you return with a connection to coeds, and she arrives with a connection to MIT men. Son, there is no war between the sexes. Girls are your allies; you just have to let them want what they want." "And always give them what they want. That seems...." "Hell no! Be very clear what they want. Then if that is disastrous for you, or just not worth the price, walk away. Now, different girls want different things, and the same girl wants several things. If, however, one girl wants something from you that is dangerous for you, walk away." "All that talk about slitting throats. You really are ruthless, aren't you?" "Your sister thinks you are the most selfish human being on earth. You didn't inherit that from Lloyd Kostner." "And now you are passing on the wisdom of the velvet glove." "I was never a _Playboy_ centerfold." So much for that secret. "I was a girl and am a woman. Now that your tastes have changed to girls, I have some wisdom to impart. We were perfectly happy with you as an immature heterosexual. Saved lots of worries. I had this discussion with your sister before she turned 15." "So how do I get a girl in the sack?" That should make her back off. "Marry her, but not before graduation. You asked the wrong question. The right question is 'How do I get women to like me and trust me?' I wrote something similar, mutatis mutandis, for your sister. I'll rewrite it and send it to you. Are you going to call Dawn? I can probably find the phone number if so." "I'd bet it's on that index card sticking out of the book you're holding." "You'd win." The end RTFM Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net 2004/07/30 Thanks to Neneh for editing this. For another story concerning an affair: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/story/moving.htm "Moving Experience" The index to all my stories currently available: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/index.htm -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+