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Message-ID: <61062asstr$1300446602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Her Space - F" -- Uther -- MF wl
Lines: 543
Date: Fri, 18 Mar 2011 07:10:02 -0400
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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, 2011, 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.

If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail them to me at
nogardneprethu@gmail.com.

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.


Her Space - F
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com

MF wl


Carolyn Pierce finished doing the grades for her discussion session.
Professor Delgado wanted to see her evaluation before issuing the official
grades. She suspected that he wanted the grades from the separate discussion
sessions to look alike. Well, she'd got her work as a student in. When she
got her work as a teacher in, then it would be time to fix up the new
apartment. Schedules kept conflicting. Bill had had a lease that ended April
30th. She had been in the worst crush of school work when they had to move.

Now, she had an office if not a desk. They had a dining room if not a dining
table. They had a refrigerator with a larger freezer if that freezer was
nearly empty. She should get these papers to Delgado and start organizing
her life.

"Mrs. Pierce, nice to see you."

"You said today was the deadline for the grades. Sorry it's so late." It
was, indeed, a few minutes before 4:00. She'd got less than 6 hours sleep
the night before to meet this deadline.

"You're doing very well. You, indeed, are the first. Did you bring the tests
with you?"

"Yeah, and my comments on class participation."

"Very good. I don't doubt you, but I want to see the student's actual
answers before I flunk him. Thank you."

"And thank you, professor. I think I'm going home, now. It was a long
semester, a long test period, and a short night."

"Good night." With that permission, she went back out. She'd driven, and
nobody had ticketed the car for lacking a campus-parking permit. Probably
this week, they weren't enforcing it. She didn't feel up to cooking anything
special that night, or even cooking from scratch. She figured she could
microwave the last chili, chop up some lettuce for a minimal salad, and open
a can of pears. That didn't need to be begun for some time. In the fine
weather, she smoked her second cigarette for the day outside after parking
the car.

In the apartment, she started on her books. The boxes were in her office,
although some books she'd needed the last week were in the living room or
kitchen; the bookcases were in the office. All she needed to do was get the
books in order. She was deep in that when Bill came home. Had he got out
early? She looked at her watch. It was 6:24.

Bill gave her a warm kiss. She felt a little guilty when she realized that
she was working extra special to be sexy to prolong the kiss and delay the
confession.

"I was going to cook for you, but this was just sitting here."

"I understand. Too bad you couldn't have had it for writing your papers. You
still need a desk. Anyway, we can go out to eat." Bill was being quite
understanding, especially since she'd come to bed the previous night after
he'd been deeply asleep.

"No! I'm done with school. I'm going to be a wife. Mind if I thaw something
out?"

"Not at all. If you're done with school, why don't you meet me downtown
tomorrow night? We can shop for a desk, and then go out to eat there."

"Really?" He was being quite kind. And, with enough sleep this night, she'd
be in top form by the time he got off work Friday.

"Really. You don't need me, you know, for the shopping. Your card is good.
Still, I'd like to see it with you. Dress sort of formal -- church clothes
would do fine."

He was sweet, but probably hungry, as well. She abandoned the office to fix
the meal she'd planned. He ate with a good appetite.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"A little.... Look... I'm awfully tired. I want to make an early night of
it."

"Two nights in a row? And you're not bleeding." She never liked his
description of her periods. On the other hand, she wanted him to want her,
and he -- not at all subtly -- did.

"Let's compromise. I want to go to bed now, and to sleep fairly soon. I'll
crash. I certainly won't be in the mood if you wake me up at ten or eleven.
On the other hand, if we both go to bed now, I won't blame you if you get up
later." Blame him? She doubted if she would even know.

"That's different. Want your bathroom time first?"

"Not tonight. I don't want to lie in bed alone." Once she lay down, she'd be
out for the count. So he hurried through his bathroom time. She wasn't so
quick, although she didn't touch her hair. She sat on the toilet for minutes
after she was done -- too tired to get up. He was waiting for her in bed.
She set her alarm for 10 A.M. while still standing, then crawled in beside
him.

Mr. Foreplay made an even clearer appearance than usual. After a while, she
pulled his hand to her delta. He stroked her lips, stroked her cleft.
Thankfully, when he got to her clit, he stayed there. She flew.

When she came back together, he was kissing up her left breast towards the
nipple. She was in danger of falling asleep before he got there. She reached
over to Little Bill.

"Huh?" he said. Fortunately, Little Bill was more interested. He was hard as
a pot handle, and she pulled that handle towards her.

"Now, Bill." And it was now. When he entered her, she grabbed him by the
ass. The motions, if less exciting than they were when she was awake, were
pleasant. Bill moved faster. Then he pulsed within her. He managed to fall
off to his side.

"I love you, Carolyn," she heard as she dozed off. And, in the comfort of
that love, she slept deeply.

Two alarms were ringing when she awoke the next morning, but her bladder had
the most urgent message. When that need had been relieved, she returned to
the bedroom to shut off her alarm. She figured out how to shut off Bill's.
That was a puzzle. It was 11:20. Had he left his alarm ringing this morning?
Anyway, she was awake and felt much better. After her shower, she felt
starved. She dressed and ate a big serving of the left-over chili before
cooking herself two toasted-cheese sandwiches. The rest of the lettuce went
well with that. She was dressed in her normal jeans when she remembered that
Bill wanted her in church-quality  clothes  for dinner. Well, that wasn't a
working outfit. Bill called at noon, but he didn't tell her anything he
hadn't told her before. She made out a shopping list, remembering that they
would have dinner out that night. She bought the stuff.

When that was put away, she tackled her office again. The books went faster
this time. She was dressed the way Bill wanted her and on the EL at 4:00.
She got to his office before 5:00. The set-up was impressive, and Bill had
an office all his own. He had a secretary, with whom she'd spoken on the
phone, and the space looked bigger than Kindle's. Larger or not, if
contained less -- less even than Delgado's. His desk was practically bare,
which made her photo in her wedding dress stand out that much more.

"Sorry if I disturbed your day," she told him when they were outside and
headed towards Carson's.

"They wanted to see you. That was fine. A pattern of visits, though, would
be disturbing."

"You have rules?"

"And they're never written down. Who did you ask about how teaching
assistants dress?"

"Cynthia who'd taught the year before."

"And not the people who told you where to go and what your pay was."

"Well, no."

"They'd tell you that anything would be all right. If I asked Mr. Watkins if
it were all right for you to visit me every afternoon, he'd say that it was
fine. He'd say that, and he'd mark me as unfit for my present position, let
alone any possible promotion. Anyway..."

"Anyway, we're off to get me my own desk."

"Want to select a dining-room table on this trip, too?"

"Sure, but the people who'll be judging it are your friends."

"I have the measurements -- got them last night. About last night... I'm
sorry."

"For what?" Then she saw, or thought she saw. "Look, Bill, I didn't get all
that much sexual pleasure on the last two nights. Neither of them can be
blamed on you."

"Feel better now?"

"Feel rested now. Ate us almost out of our larder this morning -- this noon,
really."

"Yeah. I saw that your alarm was set for 10. I set mine for 11. Was it a
great bother?"

"It was needed. It almost wasn't enough."

"You were awake when I phoned." So that was the reason.

"Bill, you're sweet."

"Well, I was worried. You didn't even stir when I got up. I checked that you
were still breathing before I left." And that was sweet, too. The shopping
went well. Bill insisted that she get a solid desk. After all, she'd use it
for the rest of her life. The dining room table looked nice, too, though
they might move into a house sometime, one with a larger dining room
requiring a larger table. The dinner was fancy, and delicious. By the time
they got home, though, she was glad to be back. They watched TV together,
something they hadn't done too often in her crunch time.

"Let's not," she said when the news came on. This had been such a sweet
couple time, and the news always caused fights.

"You're right. I can get it all from the <i>Trib</i> tomorrow." He read the
<i>Chicago Tribune</i> every morning on the EL. Well, she wouldn't be there
to have a fight with him over the editorials.

"Brush my hair?" she asked when she got out of the bathroom. He liked to do
it, and it really needed it. She always skimped it in crush times, and she
always paid for it later in more work and worse snarls. And her hair was
longer now, although that was at his request.

"Darling!" He brushed her hair out lovingly. There were snarls from the two
previous nights she hadn't brushed at all and, maybe, from other times she'd
skimped the brushing for the crush time. Even so, he worked them out
patiently. She would have gritted her teeth and yanked her brush until hairs
broke or came out. He got the scissors once, and that lump looked like it
had been home to a family of mice. She was ready for him by the time they
got into bed, but Bill, never taking advantage of that sort of situation,
went into his Mr. Foreplay persona.

He kissed her deeply while rubbing her lower lips together. When he got to
her clit, she flew almost immediately. She flew twice more before reaching
for him.

"Okay," he said. He got over her and came in her. "Carolyn," he said. He
stroked slowly and deeply until she flew again. She felt him throb deep
within her before she was done. He rolled to his side, taking her along with
him. Indeed, her legs were around his hips. "Sweet," he said.

"You're the sweet one." But her right leg was asleep from his weight before
they separated. He turned off the lamp, and she nestled back against him --
and away from the wet spot. They shared a shower Saturday morning. That made
breakfast late. She prepared him a special lunch, not the left-overs which
were their standard lunch. Sunday, she even made a western omelet for
breakfast. She left a pot roast in the pressure cooker when they went to
church, and it was done when they got back from coffee hour. They ate, as
had been her custom at home, Sunday dinner instead of lunch. But they had
meat loaf for supper.

"You're spoiling me," he said.

"Well, the crunch time depleted my stock of left-overs. And this freezer is
bigger. It will hold more meals worth. And you'll have left-over pot roast
this week." Somehow, pot roast didn't freeze well.

"You're still spoiling me. We didn't eat out that much on your last crunch
time." Well, she hadn't wanted to, and he had bought take-out most nights of
the previous two weeks.

She kissed him at the door Monday morning. Then she got to work. She planned
meals for the next two weeks which meant making out three future shopping
lists. It was easier, especially in this weather, to go food shopping more
than once a week than to drive to the store, buy more than she could carry,
and search for a parking space back at the apartment.

She washed clothes Tuesday, much more peaceful than Bill's old habit of
doing it on a weekend. She got the clothes sorted and the house cleaned
before time to fix dinner. Wednesday, before she'd decided whether to clean
the oven -- the previous tenants had left it in a mess, but was she in
<b>that</b> much of a hausfrau mood? -- the furniture came. They put the
table and chairs in the dining room and the desk in her office. That was
what she really wanted to arrange.

She cooked maccaroni and cheese for dinner. She'd stopped trying to impress
Bill with her best meals; she now figured she had to give him enough variety
that she didn't bore him. Besides, he had had pot roast on Monday, and he'd
have it again on Thursday.

The rest of the day, she unpacked boxes of paper and arranged them in the
drawer that took file folders. About 4:00, she crushed old boxes and took
them to the dumpster. The apartment looked like they lived there -- rather
than having just dropped in -- when she surveyed it at 5:30. She cleaned
herself up and then set the new dining-room table.

"Well," Bill said when they'd had their welcome-home kiss.

"You're home! And it is a home. Come see." She showed him the dining room.

"All set? And are we going to eat in here, now?"

"Not every night for just the two of us. Tonight is special." He hung up his
suit coat washed up while she brought in the food. He praised her cooking,
plain as the meal was.

"Somehow, I feel that this is our real home now," she told him. "We were
just camping out before."

"The old place was kind of cramped." She'd meant this place without the
furniture, but he had a point. The old place, without really enough space
for her, had been Bill's apartment, This was <b>their</b> home.

"And did your desk come, too?"

"I thought you'd never ask. Come see." He'd seen the desk, but not the
office looking like an office rather than a storage room.

"Impressive." He said when they were inside. "This is your home, now. And,
being your home, welcome home." He took her in his arms. When she saw his
meaning, she cooperated in the kiss. But, unlike her welcome-home kisses to
him, this one didn't end. He fondled her breasts and groped her butt. all
the while, his tongue was exploring -- no, plundering -- her mouth. When he
started unbuckling her belt, she tried to stop him.

"Bill! After all, we have a bed."

"Yep, but I've been thinking of this ever since I saw that this was the desk
you'd selected." Well, so they had a bed. They were also married, and she
didn't need to take any precautions. Besides, the kiss and groping were
starting to arouse her. She stopped fighting it. When he'd peeled down her
jeans and panties together, a highly impractical combination, he lifted her
until she was sitting on the desk. Then he took off her shoes and pulled the
jeans off one leg at a time. After the panties followed, he tossed them
somewhere. He fondled her thighs and then between them. He used his other
hand to unbutton her shirt.

He fumbled with the buttons a bit on the top, but he was dealing with her
quite expertly below. He stroked up her cleft to her clit before he got her
blouse open enough to reach her bra. She had one moment to worry whether her
moisture was getting on the desk before she stopped worrying about anything.
She was close; she was getting closer.

"Oh Carolyn," he said. He was watching her face, not his finger in her cleft
as you'd expect, when she flew. She dropped down to the desk and he pulled
her forward so that her hips were on the edge. He went back to stroking her
cleft and her clit. His other hand left her for his belt. When he bent over
her, she felt him at her entrance. "Oh, Carolyn," he repeated. As he entered
her, she saw him straighten up. His hand abandoned her cleft for one of her
legs. He lifted both of them up so her calves were over his shoulders. He
rested his hand on her delta again. She felt his thumb tickle her clit as he
began driving back and forth within her. His face was red with his effort,
but he looked delighted.

When she felt him push her back on the desk and pulse within her, she flew.


Somewhat later, he reached up a hand and lowered her left leg to dangle off
the desk. Then with the other hand, he lowered the right leg. He backed off
a little and then straightened. He was taller now than he had been when he
was inside her. She felt his stuff funning down her ass cheek.

"There's a dustcloth on the chair," she told him. "Give it to me." When he
had, she clutched it to her leaking groin.

"That must be dirty. You have panties that I could have got. For that
matter, I have boxers, although they'd be hard to take off right now. I'm
still wearing my shoes." The man was impossible.

"I hope that this didn't get into the wood of the desk."

"Tomorrow, you won't be able to smell it." She couldn't smell it tonight,
maybe because the odor of their sex had overcome any individual scent.

"Help me up." She held out her left hand -- her right was holding the cloth
between her thighs -- and he pulled her until she was sitting upright. Then
he shuffled back. His trousers and his boxers were around his ankles.

"You'll not wear that suit until it's been to the cleaners."

"Worth it though." He pulled up the boxers, arranged himself and his
clothes, and then pulled up the trousers. When the belt and zipper made him
look almost decent, he settled on a corner of the desk to take off his
shoes.

"You are seriously sick." And he was, not only the opinions, but he himself.

"Just because I like to make love to you?"

"We do have a bed, you know."

"Sure, and we have a pressure cooker, too. You fix meals that don't use it."
That metaphor was completely wacky. Before she could figure out how to
persuade him of that, he went into the bedroom. He came back in his robe
over his t-shirt, and -- presumably -- his boxers.

"I'd better get the dishes now. The cheese will have hardened on the
plates." Well, dishes, like breakfast, was his chore. On the other hand, she
was on break -- not anxious at all to begin her dissertation research --
while he still worked nine-to-five. So she should be doing all the chores.
He might figure, though that the hard cheese was his fault, which it
definitely was. He might even figure that he'd got what he wanted and
shouldn't push anything else. Then, too, he might be subtly reminding her
that he had his good points, too. For that matter, the sex on the desk --
however weird -- hadn't been all that bad. She'd flown two times. A year ago
or less, she'd have considered a date on which she'd flown once a successful
evening if nothing awful had intervened. But that was the problem with Bill,
right there. Something awful, like being taken as a sexual snack on her own
desk, always intervened. Well figuring out Bill was harder than regional
economics. Mind reading wasn't her forte, and she wasn't sure he had a mind
to be read.

They watched TV until the news came on. He switched the set off, then. That
prevented loads of fights, but it cut her off from world news. Bill had a
radio he almost never used. Couldn't she listen to WBBM while he was at
work? Anyway, that was the future, this was now. She did her bathroom
preparations, and he did his.

"Look," he said when he came to bed. "I'm not sure I'm ready yet."

"You bitch when I deny you."

"Well, how about a compromise?" What would he say if she suggested a
compromise? He'd probably blow up. "I'll do my best to get you over, but
don't complain if I can't get over." Was he suggesting what she thought he
was?

"Like?"

"I'll do what I can with my finger, but don't expect my dick." Well, if not
what he expected of her, that was something. And, it's true, men were funny
that way. Then, too, he wasn't blaming her that he couldn't function, and
she'd heard of men who did.

"Well, if you're not ready, it's your own fault."

"Maybe, but I didn't exactly leave you high and dry." He had a point.

"Okay." He got into bed. His kiss was as hot as ever. She might as well go
along with this. His kiss lasted even longer than usual. His caresses
covered her entire torso before centering on her breast. He kissed slowly
down her neck towards her breast while he stroked slowly down her stomach
towards her delta.

"You think that I only love the hair on your head." He was twirling the hair
on her delta, and he'd stopped kissing her breast to make his point. She
felt the urge to pull his head to her nipple, but that might be what he was
trying to get her to do. Anyway, he hadn't touched anywhere near her cleft
yet, and she was already excited. The man might be weird, but he understood
foreplay -- 'allplay' tonight. He kissed a circle around her breast while
his hand parted her lower lips. He was maybe two inches from her nipple, but
the only touch it got was his cheek. That was somewhat scratchy, but even
the scratchiness was arousing by now. Finally, almost precisely when his
finger touched her clit, he licked the nipple. It was a lot of licking and
not much sucking tonight. That, however, combined with the feather-light
touches on her clit, took her close, very close.

When he sucked deeply and stroked more directly, she flew.

"You're wonderful," he said. How did his arousing her become something she'd
accomplished? Then he was sucking on her other nipple and rubbing her lips
together. She was vaguely conscious of Little Bill pressing against her
thigh. She thought he felt lkike he'd be able to function. Then he changed
his stimuli until she flew again.

"So responsive," he saaid. But Little Bill was still pressing against her
thigh.

"That feels ready to go," she said pushing back against it.

"Well, don't blame me if it's a fizzle." With what his finger and mouth
could do, there would be no blame. "Roll away from me." They were going to
do it that way? She rolled over on her side and slid back before she fell
off the bed. She'd been far over on her side of the double bed. He fumbled
at her cleft from in back, and she opened her leg and reached between to
help him in. She pushed back when he pushed forwards to get Little Bill in
her. With all the thinking involved the entrance was less exciting than it
usually was, but he felt nice and warm and solid -- if not as full as she
sometimes felt.

"Raise your leg." When she did, he reached around from in front to get to
her clit again. He kissed the nape of her neck in back, somehow a sexier
sensation than all this arranging of their genitals, and then licked it.
Then he was stroking her clit again. Sometimes he moved in and out of her,
if not far in either direction. She was close again, but he didn't change
his actions. When she rolled her hips back, he went in deeper, but it tended
to remove his finger from her clit. After the longest time poised at the
threshold, she flew.

"Carolyn," he said. But he didn't change his motions even so. He moved in
and out, stroked her clit, occasionally bent forward to kiss the nape of her
neck. She didn't really come down from her arousal. She bent forward more,
hanging on to the night stand to support her body half out of bed. That
drove him deeper, and he made deeper, more satisfying strokes. Tense from
her position, tense from the strokes on her clit, feeling the new depth of
his penetration, she got close again.

When she flew, he moved his finger from her clit. He was gripping her pelvis
and pulling her back into his strokes. He was pushing a lot harder and
getting a little deeper.

"Carolyn," he said again, "gah!" She felt him pulse within her, and then his
grip on her leg relaxed. She eased herself back from the edge of the bed.
After a minute, she felt him slip out of her. The penis dropped across her
hip after it left, trailing some liquid behind, but not much. He relaxed
against her back, and she felt his breathing slow.

"Get the light, would you?" she said when he felt like he might be falling
asleep.

"Sure." He clicked the lamp off. She moved back into half the space his
turning on his back had created. "Sorry." Was he sorry he hadn't turned the
lamp off earlier? She didn't know. Bill was a puzzle, sometimes, and this
night had been more puzzling than most. When he curled up against her,
however, she reached back to take his arm and hug it to her chest between
her breasts. That she couldn't understand him didn't mean that she didn't
love him.

The end
Her Space - F
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com

These same events from Bill's perspective:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/pie_07m.htm
Bill's experience

The first adventures of Carolyn with Bill:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/pie_01f.htm
"Get a Room - F"

Another story about another couple initiating another space:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/vos_10f.htm
"Enough"

The index to almost all my stories:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/index.htm
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