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Message-ID: <61449asstr$1314922201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Picnickers -- M" -- Uther -- MF 1st
Lines: 1818
Date: Thu, 01 Sep 2011 20:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


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.


Picnickers -- M
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com

MF 1st


Andy Trainor concentrated on Barbara, but he noted Hailey's and Nancy's
expressions, too. They seemed to be following the lesson. But they'd never
seen it before; they were willing, based on earlier successes, to believe
that he could teach them about it. It was Barbara's second time through this
material, and she was absolutely certain she couldn't learn it. But Barbara
was Marilyn's roommate, and she'd learn it this time or he'd die trying. He
pointed to the set of right triangles that he'd drawn all coming together at
the same point.

"All right. As the triangles get larger, the longest line, the hypotenuse,
gets longer and the line away from the angle gets longer. Do you believe
that they get longer in the same proportion?" That was two long mathematical
terms he'd used, and Barbara thought these were only there to confuse her.
But, dammit, there wasn't another good word for proportion.

"Look, I'll draw better triangles." He used his ruler, and drew another set
with the hypotenuses 3, 4, 5, and 6 cm. long. "Now, measure the lines." She
did. "Do you see that this one is twice as long as this one, and -- in the
same way -- this one is twice as long as that one?"

"Sure Andy, but so what?" He still couldn't believe that some people could
see that A/B was equal to C/D without seeing that A/C was equal to B/D. But
Barbara was such a person.

"Well, then, if this line is x, that line is 2x. And if this line is y, that
line is 2y. So the ratio of the length of that line to the other one is
2x/2y, which is x/y. Which is the same as the ratio of the first two lines."

"Okay," Barbara saw it. The other two had seen it so long before that they
were starting to get impatient.

"The ratio between any vertical line from this line to the length we've gone
up this line before dropping the vertical is the same. It depends on the
angle I've labeled a, and only on that angle."

"Okay."

"Well, that is what we call the sine of that angle. It's always the same,
and it depends only on the angle." He looked around to see that all three of
these college girls had finally got what high school seniors got in one
sentence of the first day's lecture. They'd already had the lecture once,
twice in the case of Barbara. That was unfair, though; by the time Barbara
got that lecture the first time, she'd been convinced she wouldn't
understand it.

"Okay," he went on. "Now, if the length of bc over the length of ab is the
sine of angle a, then the length of ac over the length of ab is the sine of
angle b." They didn't looked convinced, so he drew two more triangles of the
same shape but reflected so that the second one had b at the left-hand lower
corner. Some days, he wished he had a blackboard, but they all sat on the
same side of the table and looked at his sketches from the same direction.

"Remember that all three angles of any triangle always add to 180 degrees.
And, since we're only talking about right angles now, one angle is 90
degrees, and the sum of the other two angles is 90 degrees."

He got nods, if not the certainty he would have received from HS juniors
who'd taken the right courses. Oh, well, if these girls had taken -- and
passed -- the right courses, he wouldn't be here. And, when he was done with
them, Marilyn would be here, too.

"So, the size of this angle a determines the size of b. And the size of b is
the only thing that determines the sine of b. So, the size of a determines
the sine of b." He got the same tentative agreement. He'd take that.

"We call the ratio of the length of ac to the length of ab the cosine of a.
It depends only on the size of a. Any questions?" They didn't have any, but
he'd made that a ritual to end these tutoring sessions. Everyone stayed for
anyone's questions. The girls gathered their books and walked out. He got
up, but didn't leave. Now was the time for Marilyn to come in -- sweet
Marilyn with her firm rump and soft breasts.

Instead, though, another girl came in, followed by a guy.

"Excuse us," the girl said. "We have a use for this room." The guy looked
sheepish, as though he wasn't sure what was going on. Still, the girl seemed
to belong to the sorority; she even looked vaguely familiar. Andy gathered
up his book and papers and headed out. Marilyn was outside the room waiting
for him.

"Look, did you drive?" she asked. He hadn't, as the weather was clear.

"No. It was good weather."

"Well, I'll see you Sunday, then." Something was up, but she didn't sound
like it was something he'd done.

"Aren't you going to see me off?" If he wasn't going to get to nuzzle her
sweet breasts, he wanted to at least taste her sweet mouth. He got his wish,
but the weather was cool enough that they were both wearing coats. There was
nothing unsatisfactory about the kiss itself, but the comparison with the
making-out time he'd expected led to a little dissatisfaction.

Sunday, he had her tantalizing hip pressed against his for the service and a
sweet kiss goodbye at her porch. Enjoyable as these were, he missed the time
he'd lost Thursday. On the other hand, Tuesday, after the movie, they'd be
all alone in the back seat.

Before they got to the movie, Marilyn dropped her bombshell.

"Look, everybody is grateful for the work you've been doing on College
Math," she said. "It's just that one of the girls raised the issue that the
room is for studying and not for canoodling. So we're going to have to find
another place. For now, can you drive your car Thursday afternoon? We could
go out in it then."

"Everybody would know." He was thinking. Thursday afternoon wasn't the best
time for making out in the back seat of a car. Marilyn needed privacy. They
didn't even go as far -- hadn't even gone as far -- in the room in the
sorority house. And, there, they put a chair to block the door.

"Andy, everybody already knows. That's the problem. If any other woman had
the chance to be private with her boyfriend in the house, she'd do the same
thing. Maybe not quite the same -- you lift me up, after all, and I enjoy
that -- but they'd be making out. And that room can accommodate our making
out, but it can't accommodate fifty couples' making out."

Well, the news could be worse. Marilyn didn't want to stop it; someone else
-- probably that witch who'd come in the previous Thursday -- had been
jealous. And she'd been jealous of what <b>they</b> had. Marilyn wanted it,
or wanted some kind of making out, which was the positive side of this news
-- that and that she liked being picked up.

"Okay." He didn't see where he had a choice. And, after all, her present
suggestion was that they make out elsewhere.

He started thinking about that during the movie, but present pleasures drove
future schemes out of his mind when they parked. When he thought about it
that night, he figured that he was committed to drive to the tutoring
session on Thursday.

When he did, he met three girls who were furious, and not with him.

"Whatever that Veronica wants from now on," Hailey said, "I'm against.
Anything."

"Well," Barbara said, "she's a senior. I doubt that she'll want anything
you'll vote on. If she gets pinned, I suspect that she'll get  fewer hugs at
candlelight than she might expect, but that's all. After all, she wasn't
even considered for any offices this fall, and she's a senior." Then they
looked at him.

"I thought all this was secret," he said. The three were sharing more
details than Marilyn had felt comfortable doing.

"Look," Nancy said, "What happens at chapter meeting can't be shared with
anyone else. But, if Veronica is a bitch in chapter meeting, I don't feel
restricted from saying that she's a bitch."

"Well, that's fine, and I'm not about to spill any of your secrets, if any
of that is secret. But lets get down to College Algebra." And they did.

The place he took Marilyn after the tutoring session was sheltered by trees
and at the side of a quiet road. Even so, Marilyn acted nervous, and he
couldn't blame her. They might be in shade, but there was bright sunlit
space visible out of each window. Even if they had been in true darkness,
they wouldn't have felt hidden. Anyway, caressing her breasts and stroking
her jeans-clad leg didn't feel as arousing as nuzzling her breasts with his
mouth and kneading her butt.

"Not quite the same, is it?" she said before he drove her home.

"Not really."

"Maybe, we should find another time as well as another place." Her
suggestion started him really thinking. After leaving her with a kiss at the
sorority's front porch, he cursed himself. He needed to think outside the
box. He'd been stuck on what they had done and what kids did -- really, what
he knew kids did, and he probably didn't know what the possibilities were.
He sure wasn't plugged in to the grapevine. Well, abandoning all that about
what kids did, what did he want?

That night, he thought it all out. He loved to have her writhe in his arms.
She was the sexiest woman in the world, and at her sexiest then. On the
other hand, he could feel it but not really see it. What did her face look
like then? Her body?

He would love to actually make love to her, but that was for the future. He
could imagine it alone at night, he wouldn't experience it. Well, he
wouldn't experience it any time soon. Marilyn was his girl; they were a
couple. All he had to do was to move them forward one step at a time. Sooner
or later, that would be the only step they hadn't taken.

Anyway, obtainable, as opposed to fantasy. He wanted to see her in her total
beauty. He wanted to see her writhe like that. That might well be two steps,
although he'd held her half-dressed and writhing a fair number of times.

She didn't like being even partly undressed in the sunlight. Well, that was
a privacy issue. If you were in a car, you could see forever, and you felt
that you could be seen forever. And, really, the side of the road meant that
you'd just traveled that road -- anyone else could.

He should find some place beside the roadside. Well, they were in the middle
of the Illinois farm belt. There had to be some fields which were far from
the road. Well, all fields had parts far from the road. Most of them were
naked as newborns and flat as a tablecloth. But he'd found trees along the
side of a road; he could find a field sheltered by trees.

It took him a little while. Some well-sheltered spots were filled with rows
of corn stumps. That wasn't what he'd want to lie on, let alone delicate
Marilyn. Finally, he found his spot. It was reachable by a maze of farm
roads, and he took a while finding it again when he tried to retrace his
route. He found a better approach, though, and actually drove off the road
and parked where he wanted to leave the car. Even standing up, you could
only see in one direction, and that was another empty field. Sitting down, a
line of brush hid even that. There were two paths in wide enough for a
pickup -- or, he supposed, a tractor. But those paths led straight to the
far corner of the field. They didn't give a line of sight to the spot he
chose. The line of brush, when he investigated it, bordered a stream. One of
the paths crossed the stream, which was looking deep enough to make that a
questionable undertaking. Then he remembered the tractors he'd seen, with
their engines more than a yard above the ground. Well, that wasn't his
business.

Tuesday, he had done everything to make this plan happen except work up his
nerve to ask her. Marilyn's exquisite sexiness that night increased both his
desire to have it happen and his anxiety that something might go wrong.

He held Marilyn as she writhed in his arms. His eyes stared across the front
seat to the dark beyond the windshield, but he didn't see it. He was
concentrating on the feel of the woman in his arms and in his lap. She was
so sexy, so responsive. As she relaxed, he kissed her hair. His hand was
still on her thigh as he enjoyed the warmth, the softness, the smoothness.
And he'd enjoyed a thousand times more the slick moisture where his finger
had penetrated inside her panties.

After Marilyn's breath evened, he started stroking that extra smoothness
again. Soon, she stiffened in his arms. As she began to writhe again, he
voiced how much he prized her responsiveness.

"Oh, Marilyn." He dared not express the particulars, the moist warmth he
enjoyed touching and lusted to inhabit, the sensations of her response to
him. Well, two times was her limit. As she relaxed again, he withdrew his
hand to hug her with both arms. He could hold her warm relaxed body for a
long time, even if he could hold her writhing body only briefly. He wanted
Marilyn, all of Marilyn, and -- since he could only have the parts of her
that her classes, family, and sorority didn't claim -- he would take the
parts he could get and be grateful.

"Want to go back?" he asked after she straightened on his lap. She got off
to hook her bra again and button her blouse. On the way to the front seat,
she pushed the blouse into the waistband of her skirt. Well, unless she
would accept his new plan, this would the last time he'd see her for any
length of time until Sunday morning. And if he didn't suggest it, she
certainly wasn't going to accept it.

"Nicer weather these days." Which sure wasn't the invitation he needed to
deliver. "Would you like to go on a picnic for Saturday lunch?" There, he'd
said it.

"You and me? Should I pack something?" She'd taken 'picnic' more literally
than he'd intended.

"Definitely you and me. I'm not that ambitious. I was planning to stop at
Burger King on the way. I'll bring a blanket for a table cloth -- ground
cloth? -- but we can just decide to eat in the car if the weather is too
bad." Of course, if they ate in the car he couldn't see Marilyn lying down
in her beauty, but she should hear that his time with her didn't depend on
the weather -- the weather being awfully chancy.

"Sounds like an idea." Which was her acceptance, if not an enthusiastic one.

"11:00 Saturday?"

"Sure."

When she was on the porch of her sorority house, she turned for his kiss. He
stood on a lower step, which reduced body contact, but kept their mouths on
the same level. Her kiss was sweet, welcoming his tongue with her own.

Back in his dorm room, he lay stripped on top of the bed replaying the
evening. Soon, he clutched himself and imagined Saturday. He'd seen almost
all of her body. She'd worn a bikini once last summer, and he'd seen
everything above her waist in the dimness of his car. Over the last few
months, his memories and imaginings had displaced the magazines he'd
previously used to fuel his masturbation.

He pictured her in her panties, pictured his hands taking them off, pictured
his hands stroking her. Gripping himself, he imagined that sweet body
writhing before his eyes as it had writhed in his arms. Getting close, he
imagined himself penetrating that liquid warmth. That was too much. He
exploded.

"Oh, Marilyn," he whispered as he dropped the soggy Kleenex among the others
at the bottom of the wastepaper basket. He pulled the covers over himself
and rolled on his side to go to sleep. But the possibility of Saturday still
filled his brain. Would he really see her in daylight? Would he get the
opportunity to see her writhe in response to his touches? Well, he wanted
everything, but -- also -- he risked everything. She was capable of saying
no -- had said no in the past. If he went one step beyond what she would
permit, she might decide that he couldn't have her company any more.

Saturday, though, he had her company at least as far as Burger King. They
got their burgers, two for him, one for her, no onions for him since she
didn't take them. Marilyn held the food while he drove to the field he'd
scouted out. He parked under the trees, and they walked out into the
stubble. She carried the food while he carried the blanket. They kissed a
bit first, but then sat across from each other and ate their burgers and
drank their strawberry shakes before cleaning up and putting all the trash
back in the sack. Then they lay down across from each other on the blanket,
prepared to get to the real business of the afternoon.

He kissed her deeply, even more enjoyable now that he didn't have to stoop
or lift her to reach her mouth. When he needed to kiss more than her mouth,
he tugged at her t-shirt. She sat up to let him remove it. He kissed along
her neck and shoulder before unsnapping her bra.

"Oh, Marilyn!" She was so beautiful, her shape even more than her face. He
kissed each nipple, then returned to a kiss on her mouth. When he stripped
off his own t-shirt, the kiss was skin-to-skin. He could feel her soft
breasts with their hard centers pressing into his chest. He kissed her neck
and shoulders, kissed down to her breasts. He continued on until he'd kissed
the navel that beckoned him. This was delightful; he could go on like this
forever. But could he go further? He dared.

He put his hand on her belt, then looked a question at her. She thought
about the question -- he could see the tracks of the thoughts by her
changing expression. Then she reached down to help him. He was excited, but
not too excited to note the mysterious details of opening women's jeans.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said when the jeans were loose. He pulled them off, having
to remove her tennis shoes to do that. Her blue, frilly panties would be
another step. He was careful to leave them up, although he desperately
wanted to see her full feminine glory. But there was so much skin that he
was now implicitly allowed to touch. He took his time caressing her lower
legs, previously protected from his fingers by her pantyhose or nylons, then
her luscious, smooth, pale thighs.

And he didn't need to stop his caresses to repeat his kisses. He supported
himself on his left hand while the fingers of his right hand enjoyed the
freedom she'd granted. He returned to her navel, which looked like a little
mouth ready to kiss him back. He kissed up to her breasts, buried his head
between them while pressing them together, kissed downward again.

He'd had so much; he shouldn't press her for more. But, greedy as a little
boy over Halloween candy, he couldn't stop himself. When he'd kissed down
her torso to her panties, he touched the waistband of those.

"May I?" he asked around the heart in his mouth. She didn't seem to spend
any time considering this. Instead, she shifted her feet until she could
raise her midsection off the blanket.

"Yes," she said. He drew the panties down, slowly revealing her mound with
its neat covering triangle of short black hair. Then he saw the cleft at the
bottom of that triangle.

"Oh, Marilyn," was all he said, but he meant that she was beautiful, she was
desirable, she was generous to share her beauty with him. After he'd got the
panties (and socks) off, she apparently thought she'd been too generous, as
perhaps she had. She drew her legs together to hide herself a little. Then,
apparently reconsidering, she spread them again. From where he was kneeling
after drawing her panties over her feet, he could see a hint of redness
between her lips. This was one step, a huge one, he shouldn't ask for any
more steps from her.

"You are so beautiful." Her legs were now pressed to the blanket and spread
enough to allow him to kneel between them. He did, his cock twitching at the
thought that this would be his position if they ever had sex. But he
suppressed that thought, although his cock twitched again when he kissed her
mound. He kissed a path upwards from there to her mouth. She wrapped her
bare legs around his waist.

When she closed her eyes, he trembled. That had exhibited such trust, and
his desire for her body had already betrayed that trust. He closed his own
for a moment to savor her taste. When he opened them, she appeared luminous
against the dark blanket.

Her legs tightened against him when he moved back, but only for a second.
Even so, it was the first resistance he'd felt from her this day. Lovely
girl! Generous woman! He supported himself on his left elbow while watching
his hand move over all of her. He bent to kiss her, and then to kiss her
breast. Soon, his hand moved to her center. Watching it part the pubic hair
was even more arousing than exciting her under her skirt in a dark car. When
he stroked through the slick warmth to the invisible nubbin on top, feeling
took precedence over sight and he began to lick and suck her nipple.

"Oh, yes," she said, permitting him the freedom of her body. He adored her
reaction to his finger in her. He almost came in his pants when  she rose to
meet his hand.

She moaned and writhed as he had imagined her doing. But the reality was
much more erotic than the imaginings. He couldn't stop caressing her
moisture. After a bit, she writhed again. This time, she was silent, but
just as arousing to him.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said before kissing her. This was the limit she'd set, but
he couldn't stop. He kept exciting her, and himself, until she writhed again
and yet again. When she did push his arm away, he kept himself from fighting
for one more response.

The experience had been so exciting that he was shivering, and everything
but her luminous body seemed to be dimming. He wondered briefly whether she
would permit him to go even further. Of course, she wouldn't, and not
expecting to get <b>this</b> far, not expecting to dare ask for even this
much, he hadn't brought any rubbers.

He had to kiss the darling, exciting girl. Luckily she didn't refuse him
that. He kissed her everywhere, starting with her mouth, her eyes, her
breasts.

Then the darkness disappeared. With the flash came the crack of lightning.
Before he could shift his attention from his love to their environment, he
was showered by cold rain driven sideways by the wind. And Marilyn was naked
and unprotected.

"Go to the car," he told her. "I'll get the stuff." She scrambled up and
ran. Despite everything that needed his attention, he noticed how sexy she
looked running naked. Checking that everything they'd brought was on the
blanket, he rolled it up. He followed her to the car, opened the back seat
from the driver's side, and shoved the blanket in. He got into the front
seat and leant over the back towards the blanket. Marilyn was too wet to put
on her clothes. "Minute," he said before digging out his t-shirt and passing
it to her.

"Sorry," he told her. "Isn't much of a towel, but it's all I have." She used
it to get the worst of the rain off. "I need to move onto gravel before this
soaks in." He didn't want her to think he cared more about the car than her
obvious desire for clothes. He started the car and backed it, slowly and
with difficulty, onto the gravel road they'd used to enter. He turned on the
heat and wipers and opened the defogger vents. It didn't seem to help much.
"Sorry," he repeated.

Well, she wanted clothes. That was the next priority. He couldn't turn all
the way around on the driver's seat, so he opened the door and swung his
butt out until he was kneeling on the seat and could deal with the stuff in
the blanket. Having closed the door again, he passed her her clothes in
roughly the order she needed them, ending with the shoes and socks. When
he'd got all the contents but the trash in the sack, he opened the door
again and sat back down.

"Well, this was a disaster, sorry." He'd been saying that a lot recently. He
turned on the lights, to warn anyone using the road, but turned off the
wipers. They didn't need to see, not that he'd seen anything beyond the
rainstorm.

"Look," she asked, "did you plan this rainstorm? If not, why apologize?" She
was so generous, and he was such a klutz. "I was having a fine time before
the rain hit, though it might be good that it did." She said that she
enjoyed the making out? Well, he'd seen her enjoyment, but saying it meant
that she might permit it again -- might, sometime, permit him to go further.
As for the rainstorm, it hadn't been the only thing keeping them from going
further.

"Well, it couldn't have gone much further. I didn't have anything." She
gaped at him. It was fairly stupid, now that he thought about it, that he
hadn't taken any precautions. Carrying a rubber didn't mean that you were
going to use it -- even Dad had told him that. Not carrying one, on the
other hand, damn-well meant that you weren't going to use one. And he did
<b>not</b> want to risk her pregnancy.

"Well, I might want you to marry me, but I sure as hell don't want you to
<b>have</b> to marry me." That was much more than he should have said,
sharing his dream when their relationship was nowhere near there and when he
wasn't in any position to support her. His face burning, he  felt
tongue-tied, much too late. She went back to dressing. "I mean..." And what
did he mean? Well, he meant everything that he'd said, but he shouldn't have
said any of it.

"Look," she said. "You already said more than you wanted to. Actually, I
think it was sweet." That was a very kind way of describing idiocy. "Let's
not go there right now. Help me with these." She'd got her jeans up to mid
thigh.

"Sure. Try kneeling on the seat." She tried to get into that position, but
even with her trimness, it wasn't easy in the car. She finally half-stood
while he pulled the jeans up to her waist.

"Hold my back," she directed. While he did, she used both hands to fasten
the waist.

"I don't want to use your tee on my feet," she said when she was sitting
back down.

"Well, I want to put it back on. We aren't going anywhere before this lets
up. There are still some Burger-King napkins in the blanket. I'll get some
before we start." Although that might be the least funny thing he'd said
since getting in the car, Marilyn started to laugh. Well, their whole
situation was funny, and he joined in. Something, maybe the absurdity of the
whole day, turned their humor into hysteria. They howled until they ran out
of breath.

"We're a pair, aren't we?" he asked. They started laughing again, but soon
ran out, with a few chuckles and giggles after they thought they'd calmed
down.

"Looks like it's letting up." It was still raining, but not so hard.

"Yeah," she agreed.

"Want me to get those napkins now?"

"Please." So he got out, opened the back door, and fetched the napkins. He
caught a little rain, but he couldn't get much wetter. When she'd put on
shoes and socks, he drove off.

"Great picnic, huh?"

"Great picnic," she said as if she meant it. "Bet we'll remember it a long
time." Well, that was for sure.

At the sorority house, he kissed her on the porch, but rather chastely. This
was no time for hugs.

He showered, seemingly redundant but a good excuse for toweling himself off,
and put on new clothes for dinner. Back in his room, he thought about the
day. Well, he'd done many stupid things, but she seemed to have forgiven
him. One of the stupidest was neglecting to carry a rubber. Another was
mentioning marriage. In the first place, he doubted that she was anywhere
near ready for anything like that commitment. He might consider her the
woman for the rest of his life, but she considered him one of the guys she
dated. In the second place, they couldn't be married until he was ready to
support her. Of course, she had her own career mapped out, and he respected
that. Even so, she wasn't yet ready to support herself, either. June '79,
when they graduated, was the time to propose, not April '77.

But she seemed to like him, and if she liked him after the blunder that was
today, she must feel something for him. It sure wasn't appreciation of his
smooth planning skills. He dithered about asking her on another picnic, not
whether -- whatever the ending, the middle had been too arousing to forego
-- but when? Should he let another week go by?

Then he remembered. He'd been in heaven the first time she'd worn stockings
instead of pantyhose. He'd been able to feel her sweetness. He'd been in
hell the first time she'd gone back to pantyhose. What had he done? When she
went back to the stockings, he'd felt pardoned. The second time she went
back to pantyhose, he'd felt stupid. Of course, every four weeks she had a
period, and she didn't want his finger in there then. Well, this was coming
up on the third period, and he would wait until it was over. She didn't want
to talk about it, and he didn't blame her. What she was willing to share was
welcome, What she regarded as private wasn't something he would fight her
about. Indeed, he shook to think how far he'd pushed her on that picnic.

One step, he reminded himself. If she said no to one step, she had already
accepted the last ones. He could wait and ask for the next step later. If he
asked for many steps on the same date, she might feel pressured. She'd said
no to him -- no about her period, totally without explanation, no about
sorority affairs, although she always explained that. She'd said no so long
ago because she had been going steady.

When he did work up the nerve to invite her the next Tuesday on the phone,
she accepted. He took precautions, with a towel in the back seat and rubbers
in his pocket. Superstitiously, he duplicated the previous time in
everything else, even wearing the same clothes -- except for underwear that
he couldn't distinguish. When he got to the field, though, the sun looked
awfully hot. He parked in the same place but put the blanket in the shade.

They had a long, wet kiss. Then he got her to turn around. He cupped her
breasts and nibbled at her neck and what shoulder the t-shirt didn't cover.

"You go ahead. I've got what I want to eat right here."

"Silly." She broke from his hold and sat down. When he sat down across from
her, she handed out the food. Okay, so someone else had cooked it and he'd
paid for it. Still, that looked to him awfully like a married woman serving
dinner to her husband. With the reality beyond his reach, he'd take the
illusion.

When they were done, they put all the garbage in the Burger-King bag.
Marilyn kept back the napkins and put them in her back pocket. She was
thinking of the previous picnic and its rainstorm. He'd thought of that,
too.

"I've got a towel in the car."

They lay down on their sides and kissed for a while. He couldn't keep his
hands off her, and she didn't complain. Indeed, she sat up to take off her
t-shirt. He took off his, too.

"Lie face down," he told her. He'd been dreaming of this. After unhooking
her bra, he kissed her shoulder and neck and then down her spine. She rolled
back over, and he kissed up from her waist to her breasts, taking the bra
off while he was at it. "You are so lovely," he told her when her breasts
came into view. When he licked and sucked her nipples, they responded to
him. She wasn't only lovely, she was sexy as hell.

He lay on her with his legs between hers to give her a long kiss. While his
tongue plundered her mouth, her soft, warm breasts pressed her hard, wet
nipples into his chest. He could feel her skin all along the length of her
torso. Finally, he kissed down her torso. When he reached her belt, he undid
it and unsnapped and unzipped her jeans. The process wasn't as difficult as
he'd thought it would be. But her shoes were still on.

He went down to her feet and removed her shoes and socks. He removed his own
and let his feet play with hers. Hers looked so small against his. After
another kiss, he removed her jeans -- the panties were another step. Now, it
would be her turn, but she looked too delightful to leave yet.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said on the sight of almost all of her. He kissed her
breasts. Then they shared another deep kiss. When he rolled onto his back,
he pulled her hand with him. He carried it to his belt buckle. With perfect
willingness, she unbuckled him and went from there to the button and the
zipper. She started to hold his cock, through his briefs, but that would
bring him off in his pants. "That's too much. Just seeing you is already
scarily exciting." She allowed him to move her hand away.

He took a wrapped rubber out of his pocket and set it beside her. Was she
willing for this to happen? He looked the question to her, and got no
refusal. Then he removed the jeans and tossed them to the side. He kissed
her mouth briefly, then down to her breasts, then down to her panties.
Holding the elastic, he looked for her permission again. She gave more than
permission; she raised her midsection in invitation. He pulled the panties
down, and then off.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said again. He kissed her mound and, from there, a path to
her breasts. He removed his briefs while kissing her sweet mouth. Then he
kissed her breasts while kneeling between her knees. Again, she gave her
silent permission by moving them further apart. Then he had to get the
rubber on. This was harder than the rehearsals, since his hands were shaking
and her eyes were on him. When he looked at her face again, her expression
looked nervous. Well, <b>he</b> was scared shitless. Still, he shouldn't
force her.

"Sweet Marilyn." He dropped down and kissed her breasts. He wanted more now
than silent consent. "Should we?" She nodded. He spread her lower lips with
his fingers. When his kisses reached her chin, his cock was touching his
hand. When he could feel her around his tip, he kissed her nose. Despite the
rubber, the warmth enclosing him as he went forward was the finest feeling
in his entire life. When he was all the way in, he felt a fierce drive to
back out and slide in again.

"Darling, oh sweet," he managed to hold still to say. "Is it okay? May I
move?"

"Sure. I'm fine." And she even smiled at him while he moved his hips back
and forth the way they hungered to move. Then he couldn't control the
hunger. He moved out once more before driving into her and exploding.

"Oh, God!" It was like all his previous orgasms rolled into one. It was
glorious; it was magnificent.

It had, he realized slowly, probably not been so good for her. "Oh, Marilyn!
I'm sorry." He'd failed her as a man! He rolled off her and tried to
apologize. "I came in a second. It must have been awful for you."

"Andy," she responded. "That was my first time. Don't make my memory of my
first time be all about your moaning." She was right, and he had been
selfish.

"Okay. Sorry... It was my first time, too."

"All right. We're starting together. We're learning together. Don't you like
it better than if I'd had tons of experience with some older man?"

"Oh, yes!" He wanted to be her only man -- only man ever. If he wanted that,
she deserved more skill than he'd displayed so far, but she also deserved
less concentration on Andy.

"Well, maybe I'm glad that you didn't have some woman educate you. We'll
learn together." The darling girl -- darling <b>woman</b>, she'd displayed
oceans more maturity than he had -- was making this all sound good, or, at
least, acceptable.

"Oh, Marilyn, you are so wise." His kiss of gratitude turned into a kiss of
love. Soon they were kissing as hotly as they ever had, and they were both
bare -- totally bare as soon as he removed the rubber and cast it to the
side. Then, holding her, he kissed her more deeply still. She, some time
later, instead of pushing him away, pushed his head towards her breast. When
he was kissing her breast, he moved his hand between her legs. He'd had his,
after all, and she should have hers.

Her writhing on the blanket was even more rousing than he'd imagined. His
enjoyment made him feel a little guilty. He'd had his pleasure, and an
intense pleasure it had been. This was supposed to be for her. Well, she
certainly looked like she was enjoying it. Remembering that she permitted a
second orgasm, he returned to his stimulation.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said as she responded again. She was so sexy, so sweet, so
wise, so responsive, so desirable. She was too desirable, in fact. He kept
his hand between her legs while he kissed her. First, he kissed her sweet
face, then her lovely neck. He kissed down her shoulder to her arm, but her
elbow was too near her breast. He kissed the breast up to her nipple, where
he licked and sucked. He kissed down to her navel, then her mound and the
tops of both thighs. He was getting hard again, but he didn't want to risk
another disaster like the last one.

"Turn away," he asked her. When she did, he hugged her and kissed the back
of her head and her ears. He was hard, but she was too far up his body to
feel it. That was just as well. Maybe she'd had enough time that he would be
allowed to excite her again. When he stroked down to her mound, she opened
her leg to accommodate him. He eased down the blanket so he could kiss her
neck comfortably and began exciting her again. Her response, when it came,
was an entirely new form of writhing. She arched into his hand and
straightened her legs into his. He could feel her warm thigh press against
his cock.

"Oh Marilyn."

"It feels," she responded a little later, "like you want to do it again."
Well, yes, although he was embarrassed to try. He might fail as miserably as
before. But he certainly wanted to be in her again. The first time had been
glorious <b>for him</b>.

"Want to? How could I not want to? The question is whether you want to."

"Really, I do." Lovely girl, sexy woman! She made it sound like she wanted
him.

"Then lie back." If he was going to come so quickly, she should start
further along. He kissed her, and then down to her breasts. He kissed all
over both, nipples included. While his mouth was occupied, he reached for
his jeans. After getting the rubber on, he got between her legs but didn't
hurry into position. He moved his finger along her liquid warmth until she
was nearly there. He moved up her torso until he was kissing her lips. While
her thighs hugged his hips, he placed himself again.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said as he eased into her warmth. She was slick and
welcoming around him. He was, if anything, more aroused than before, but the
driving force wasn't so strong. He watched her face as he pressed all the
way into her. When his pubic bone pressed against hers, she still looked
comfortable. "Oh, darling." He kissed her forehead, which was as far down as
he could reach like this, before starting to move his hip up and his cock
out. She encased him, but so gently. The sensation was much more exciting
but much less tight than his hand had ever provided.

"You are so smooth," he told her, "so warm." He watched her face, but his
attention was all on her warmth gliding over his cock.  "Oh, love." She
seemed to be responding -- responding <b>to him</b>!

 "Yes, Andy," she said, as though confirming that guess. She wrapped her
legs around him and pulled on his downstrokes. His arousal had turned into a
drive and every stroke was faster and harder, but she matched him with her
pulling legs. Suddenly, her warmth clasped more firmly around him.

"Oh," she said. She writhed under him. She writhed <b>around</b> him as he
moved in and out. This was more exciting than anything he'd ever felt before
-- more exciting than <b>everything</b> he'd ever felt before.

"Darling." She was having an orgasm, an orgasm in response to him! He drove
into that clasping warmth and exploded. "Oh, Marilyn," he told her. "Oh,
darling. Oh, sweet." As the last spurt left his cock, all his strength left
with it. He collapsed onto his elbows and her softness. He could feel one
last contraction around him.

Their faces were so close that their breath mingled -- fast hard breath. Her
face had never looked so lovely, although it was a little out of focus at
this distance. His weight must be bothering her, but she didn't complain.
Indeed, her legs were still holding him to her. When that eased, he rolled
off. He lay on his side and cuddled her. His cock was bare! He reached down
between her legs to remove the rubber.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said. "Oh, Darling. You are so sweet! I can't tell you."
He didn't have words to express how delightful she was. He suspected that
the entire English language didn't have those words.

"You're not bad, yourself." She'd enjoyed it! And she gave him credit for
her enjoyment where she'd not given him blame for the previous fiasco. She
was so generous.

"You said that we're learning together," he reminded her. "It seems to me
that we learned something very good." Not that she'd had that much to learn.
She'd been incredibly sexy since he'd first seen her.

"Oh yes." And they lay there enjoying each other, enjoying their love,
enjoying the day. She turned on her left side and backed against him. Her
lovely rump was pressed against his stomach. He put his hand around her to
hold her tight. Occasionally he kissed the back of her head while the sun
sank enough to shine on them.

He wanted to lie like that forever, but -- really -- they couldn't. Dressed
and back in the car, he remembered that he'd get to see her again tomorrow.
He reminded her of that.

"Do you want to?" she asked. Well, they couldn't repeat this experience, not
in church, but they could repeat having her beside him.

"Oh, yes.... Where else are we a couple in the same way?"

"Why not?" Well, because they were Marilyn&Andy there, not Marilyn with that
Andy guy she seemed to tolerate for some reason. But that might not be her
question, because she continued. "Let's go, I mean."

After kissing her good-bye on the sorority porch, he went directly to a very
early dinner. Ignoring the prep work for his next week's classes, he went to
bed with his memories and his dreams. Marilyn wasn't the sort of girl who
had casual sex -- even if she hadn't revealed that this was her first time,
he'd have known that he was one of her first men. Aside from the pleasure
he'd experienced, the sex had been an assurance that she felt strongly about
him. That feeling might not be enough to have her accept a proposal, but he
had two years to work on that. Really, graduation wasn't the time to
propose. Graduation was the time to get married, and he should propose that
winter.

And he definitely wanted to marry her. This had been his first time in a
real live cunt, but it had been so much more. It had been Marilyn, and he
loved Marilyn. He couldn't face spending the rest of his life without her.
Well, they were a couple now. He just had to see that they were a couple
forever. And she'd crossed the last line of resistance. He merely needed to
avoid offending her.

And, difficult as she was to understand sometimes, she had shown a
remarkable quality of forgiveness on both picnics -- well, in the middle of
the second picnic and after the first one. He didn't want to hurt her or
offend her, but he was often a klutz. If she would forgive him being a
klutz, he would never deliberately do something she didn't like.

And he did love her. She was beautiful, and kind, and sexy, but there was
something beyond all that which he loved. He'd told her he loved her, but he
felt much more strongly now. The problem was that there wasn't another word.

So, the next day he told her he loved her both before and after services.
That Tuesday, he told her he loved her when he opened the car door at her
sorority house and when they got out of the theater.

Which left him without anything to say when his hand caressed up her thing
to find that she wasn't wearing any panties and he had all he loveliness to
feel. Luckily, he was kissing her then and didn't need to say anything.

He could explore all her sweet, warm, smooth slit, and he did. When she
seemed excited, he concentrated on her clitoris. She writhed again in his
arms, and he closed his eyes to remember how she had looked on the blanket.
After she had relaxed, he started his finger moving again. She grabbed his
arm, and he froze. Instead of pushing him away, though, she pulled him
towards her. He held all her sweetness in his hand. When he started his
finger moving again, she didn't object. When she writhed again, he held her
in his hand as well as her body in his arm and lap.

Afterwards, though, he wanted to repeat that pleasure. She had her hands on
his arm, but she wasn't pushing him away. Still, two was her limit. But it
hadn't been her limit Saturday. He felt her sweetness fill his hand for
another minute, the hairs pressed against his palm, his fingers reaching her
butt.

"Oh, Marilyn, may I?" he managed to ask. He wanted her to writhe again fir
his pleasure -- his extreme pleasure -- but he didn't want to take his
pleasure without her consent. She'd forgiven his cluelessness; he didn't
want to ask her to forgive his selfishness. She nodded, generously giving
him permission.

He took that permission, she writhed, he held her while he writhed and
after. Then, when she didn't say anything, he began stroking her slick slit
again. Again she writhed, again he got to enjoy all of it but the sight. He
took his pleasure again and again. Then she pushed him away. He'd gone too
far!

"Oh, darling, was that too much?" He'd been greedy, and she'd know he was
greedy.

"Andy." She took a breath, but she didn't push him farther away. "Andy, when
I say stop -- even when my hands say stop -- that's the time to stop. Don't
go on after that, but <b>don't</b> try to guess what I want before that."
She was so sweet, and she must know how poorly he read people, even her whom
he loved.

"Okay." He'd follow those rules. He'd certainly find it easy to follow the
'wait for her words' part. "Oh, Marilyn, I love you so. Cuddling okay, now?"

"Sure." And so he held his love. If she wasn't writhing any more, she was
relaxing into his arms, showing trust. He wasn't certain that she should
trust him, but he enjoyed that trust too much to warn her.

She agreed immediately to another picnic on Saturday. She was his as he had
been hers for so long. And she was his love. He told her of that love on the
porch and again on Thursday when they said goodbye.

Friday night, thinking of her, remembering her writhing nudity the week
before, he couldn't restrain himself. He exploded into the Kleenex and then
dropped it into basket. Even then, he could only think of her as he dropped
asleep.

Saturday, she was waiting for him at the door at 10:00. They drove to the
same burger king, but she broke the pattern.

"Whopper," she said before he ordered. He should have figured that Marilyn
was like most people instead of like him. She wanted something different to
eat.

When they'd eaten, he started on the important stuff. They had some kisses.
Then he, still kissing her, he began taking off her clothes.

"Fair's fair," she said when she was topless. Well, he was willing. He took
off his t-shirt, and then returned to her mouth. While he could lick her
tongue, he could feel her soft breasts and their firm nipples warm against
his chest. Kissing her like this was delightful, but he loved all of her,
wanted to kiss all of her.

He started down to her breasts. These were so lovely and smooth, and the
parts that weren't smooth were so responsive. But there was more, and he
kissed her abdomen. Her belt was drawing his mouth like a magnet.

When he reached there, he looked to her face to see if she allowed him. He
still wasn't good enough on women's jeans to unfasten them with his eyes
elsewhere, though. When he had them open, he looked to her again and she
raised herself so he could draw them down. He made sure he left her panties
in place for another pleasure.

When the jeans were down at her ankles, he found that her shoes an socks
were still on. He removed them and then her jeans. He piled everything where
they were within easy reach but wouldn't be in the way. She was so
beautiful! -- beautiful face, beautiful breasts, beautiful abdomen,
beautiful legs, beautiful feet with cute toes.

"Love all of you," he said. He started his kisses on the toes, intending to
work up.

"Andy!" Apparently, her toes were off limits.

"Okay." He started on the ankle, which seemed to be acceptable. Maybe her
feet were too ticklish, but her toes shouldn't be.

He kissed gradually up that leg. When he started down the other, he switched
to the inside of her thigh. She kept moving as though avoiding his mouth,
but she neither said anything nor pushed him away. When he checked her face,
she didn't seem angry. When he reached the other ankle, he took off his
shoes and socks and went up the blanket to lie beside her.

She took that invitation the way it was meant, unbuckling his belt and
opening the zipper. That last, with her hand so close to his cock, almost
brought him off. She didn't try anything to make it worse, though. He
removed the rubbers before taking off his jeans.

Then they had a sweet kiss, all but the last bit of skin touching. He was
conscious of her warm breasts under his chest, her legs wrapping his. He
could just feel the hair on her mound on his belly through her panties. And
his cock, not touching her softness but oh-so-close, could feel that
softness drawing it like a magnet. But there were bridges to cross before
that could happen. They were still in their underwear. He moved back.

"I love you," he said. When he touched the elastic on her panties, she
raised herself for him again. "Oh, Marilyn. You are so beautiful," he said
when her short, black, curved hairs were revealed on her delta and on the
soft lips below. His cock twitched as he caught a whiff of her arousing
scent. He kissed her thighs, feeling her pull away and then press back in
acceptance. When he'd removed the panties, he looked at all of her beauty
revealed. Then he went back to kiss her bare delta. "All of you, but
especially this." She was so lovely, so desirable, so available if he moved
carefully. He took one more kiss on her delta before moving up towards her
breasts. He loved all of her, and he was going to kiss all of her, but only
some caresses got her to writhe.

When he reached her breasts and settled on a nipple, he stroked between her
thighs. She opened them to him immediately. As he stroked between her smooth
lips and along her responsive clitoris, she caressed him. too. It wasn't
anything which would set him off; he'd asked her not to do that, and she
seemed to remember. But she stroked his back and held his shoulders and
arms.

When she stiffened, he looked along her abdomen. This wasn't the best
position from which to watch her, but continuing to suck and lick her nipple
was more important. When she writhed, her hips rolled back and forth, her
chest rolled in the opposite directions, moving the breast under his mouth.
He could see abdomen twist and the muscles under that skin bunch and
stiffen.

He continued stroking, and she began to writhe again. He lifted his head to
enjoy the full sight. She lifted one foot in the air, and her whole body
turned towards it in sections, first the knees, then her pelvis, then her
breasts and shoulders. That foot dropped, and she turned the other way in
sections. She only relaxed briefly, and then he watched her face as her body
twisted again. Her head seemed to roll from side to side, but their was the
strangest look on her face -- almost of agony. But it was incredibly
beautiful, and he wouldn't like seeing her in pain.

She dropped back onto the blanket, and he took his hand away from her for a
moment. He hadn't given her other breast its rightful attention, though. He
kissed over to it while he was stripping off his underpants and rolling on
the rubber. Then he was stroking in her sweet folds again while he was
licking that nipple.

As she stiffened, he changed from licking to sucking. When she seemed ready,
though, he dropped everything else to move between her legs. He paused right
at her entrance.

"Oh, Marilyn." Then he was going in! He felt her smoothness caress his tip,
his head. The tightness was moving along his shaft while his head felt the
walls of her vagina slide along it. She was marvelous, warm, slippery,
welcoming him. "I love you so," he said when he was fully in and her whole
length was clasping him gently. He kissed her forehead before beginning to
move. He drew out to her very rim while feeling all the sensations of moving
through her all over again.

"Love," he said as he thrust in. He truly did love her, and he told her so
on every stroke. He wasn't going to last long, but she was responding,
pushing up when he was pushing down, clasping his hips and drawing him
deeper into her. He was gritting his teeth to keep from letting go. But he
didn't have to.

She went off before he did. He took one stroke within her rhythmic clasping.
On the second, he pressed forward, tried to bury himself in her, and let
everything go. The feelings were glory, and love, and ecstasy. She was
writhing under him and around him, and he was writhing, too.

She was still hugging him when he had no more strength. He fell on her with
only his elbows to hold him off her. Instead of yelping, she kept hugging
him, but he felt himself begin to slip out. When she relaxed her hug, he
held the rubber on and moved out. He lay beside her. She was so delightful,
so sexy. The last moments had thrilled him. But he felt more for her than
just sex.

"I do love you, though." That hadn't quite expressed it.

"Love you, too," she said. That was wonderful to hear.

"You do? Oh, Marilyn. Oh, darling." Somehow, those words seemed to promise
that she felt for him as much as he felt for her. "Love all of you." And he
wanted to kiss all of her -- well, all of her but her feet which she'd
placed out of bounds.

He started on her face until she pulled him to her mouth. That was
delightful, too, and he stayed there tasting her until she moved back. Then
he went back to trying to kiss her everywhere. He went down her neck to her
shoulder. When he kissed down her arm, he had to pull it over her body to
reach it. She cooperated. He ended that trail at her palm, but her
cooperation inspired him to make another request.

"Turn over, will you?" When she did, the hand was closer and he kissed the
back and then up her arm again to her shoulder. The back was an entire
expanse he'd been ignoring. He licked across the back of her shoulder to her
neck, stroking her lovely, firm butt since his mouth was busy at the other
end of her back. Beginning at the top of the back of her neck, he licked
and then kissed each vertebra. His hand moved past her rump to stroke lower,
and she spread her legs to accommodate him.

This was her lovely slickness from an entirely different direction. Soon he
was stroking down its full length to touch her clitoris. Meanwhile, his
kisses moved from her neck to her back. He kissed over her far shoulder
blade, returned to her spine and kissed two vertebrae, kissed over her near
shoulder blade. All this while, his finger had continued to stroke her. As
she stiffened, he moved his head and shoulders back to watch her from a new
perspective.

He held her wrist in his left hand to stop her from turning over. Every
muscle in her back stiffened and was defined. She writhed, lifting the far
leg and then that shoulder. When she dropped them, she lifted the near leg,
hardening her butt under his hand. She lifted the near shoulder, and pulled
against his left hand. All that time, he could see the ripples across her
back.

"Oh, Marilyn. Oh, how beautiful you are." And she was beautiful, and he
hadn't kissed most of that beauty. He scattered kisses down her back, then
over her rump. Lying like this, she had two folds where the legs extended
the butt cheeks, and he licked along each of them, getting a little salty
taste. "Lovely, delightful, sweet."

"Let me turn over." Well, there were two legs he hadn't kissed yet from this
side, but he claimed to love her. He shouldn't be exploiting her against her
will.

"Well, there are parts I haven't kissed yet," he said moving back. She only
turned partway. When she was on her side, she moved so that they were
kissing mouth-to-mouth. That was delightful. Other pleasures shouldn't get
in the way of the basic ones. His tongue stroked hers. When hers followed
his into his mouth, he sucked lightly on it. Meanwhile, his hand was
caressing her -- her front and as far around to her back as he could reach
from here, but mostly her side.

When she ended the mouth kiss, he pushed against her shoulder, and she
turned onto her back. He kissed all over her face before returning to her
mouth. He caressed down her smooth abdomen to her mound. When he went
beyond, she spread her legs to accept his hand.

Concentrating on the slickness of her groove, he stayed at her mouth when
the kiss broke. He kissed her chin and then her lips until they opened and
she welcomed his tongue again. When he felt her stiffen once more, he left
her mouth to kiss down to her near breast. He kissed up that sweet slope
while his finger rubbed her moisture up to the quivering clitoris. He licked
her areola and then her nipple. He was sucking her nipple when she writhed
again. He watched as well as he could while still sucking, but his hand was
at the center of that motion and his arm was across her shifting abdomen and
lifting mound. He registered all that motion, and his own cock quivered if
not rose.

When she lay back, he held her marvelous vulva in his hand, the heel of his
hand resting on her mound and his fingers touching her warm folds. He lay
his head on her shoulder and lay looking at her sweet breast and breathing
in its subtle scent. She was his love, and she was his. They could lie like
this forever.

"Oh, Marilyn, you are so..." What was she? -- lovely, though it was the feel
not the sight he was appreciating now -- warm and soft, but it was the
emotions that made her shoulder a better pillow than the one on his bed --
restful, but he'd just been appreciating her sexy motions. He gave up and
began stroking her again, softly, slowly, not seeking anything just
appreciating her warmth and moisture.

Marilyn started brushing her hand over him lovingly. It started off as a
caress of his arm, but then turned to something sexier on his leg. Soon she
was approaching his cock. That might not be a good idea.

"It's all sticky." She ignored his warning and took it in her hand. He
forgot his worries over her reaction to enjoy the sensations. She seemed to
be trying to increase those sensations, first playing her fingers over it
and then stroking it. If that was her intent, she was successful. So soon
after his repletion, he was developing a respectable erection. Well, if this
went on he'd want full sex again, and she certainly acted like she'd welcome
it. But that required preparation, and he'd better reclaim his cock for that
job. Maybe not.

"Do you want to put it on?" Anyway, that would warn her of where his desires
were going.

"Yeah," she said after a long pause.

He tore a packet loose from the string of them and got between her legs. He
opened the packet and gave her the rubber. She turned it in her hand looking
at it.

"The lubrication goes on the outside," he told her.

The technicalities had started to soften him, but he firmed immediately when
she took him in her hands. Rolling the rubber on, a mere detail when he did
it, was tremendously exciting as she did it. One hand held his base while
the other stroked the rubber down slowly from tip all the way down his
shaft. When she released him, he backed up to get into position. He kissed
her breasts and then moved forwards. He paused when he felt her around his
tip.

"Oh, Marilyn." He slid slowly into her warm embrace, feeling her engulf his
tip, then his head, and then his shaft as his head pressed through the
caress of her vagina. When he was all the way in her, unable to go further,
he kissed her -- on her forehead, which was all he could reach. She felt so
wonderful that he had to tell her so.

"Oh, Marilyn. You are so sweet, so smooth, so warm. I love you so." He moved
his head back to see her. Then he began moving in and out through her
sweetness yet again. He moved as slowly as he could and as far as he could
without leaving her.

He watched her face. He wasn't hurting her, and -- after a bit -- she seemed
to be enjoying it almost as much as he was. As he went on, the sensual slide
of his cock in and out of her became, if anything, more arousing to him. Her
expression, though, turned serious, then abstracted, then worried. He
couldn't bear to stop, and he remembered her saying that when she needed him
to stop, she'd say so. More than that, when he glanced away from her face,
her body was stiffening the way it did before she writhed. When her face
showed pain, he knew he should stop, but he was entirely incapable. And,
although her expression showed deeper pain -- almost agony -- she writhed
under him. She writhed around his cock.

"Oh, love," he said. He tried to control his speed even if he hadn't the
inner strength to end this. Then, instead of pushing him away with her
hands. she thrust up at him with her mound -- sliding her vagina upward
around his cock. That ended it for him. He erupted, drove fiercely inward,
and pumped his being and his strength into her. "Darling Marilyn," he said
with his last breath.

As his strength poured out, he felt all his muscles sag. To protect her from
his full weight, he kept his right arm stiff for one more second than seemed
possible while allowing his left arm to collapse. Somehow, Marilyn was
holding him so tightly that when he rolled to his left, she rolled with him.
He felt himself coming out of the rubber and gripped it and his cock so that
they came out together.

They were facing each other, and he loved her. He would have told her so if
he'd had breath to speak. Their breaths mingled as their bodies had and as
their lives should.

When she started to move her legs from his, he rolled to make it easier. He
took the rubber all the way off his cock. He had definitely felt gallons
pumping through his cock, but the rubber only held a tiny bit. She had a bit
more of her shake and offered him the last bit. It tasted good in the heat
and after the exercise, maybe tasted better for the straw having been on her
sweet lips first.

After he put the cup in the bag and lay down facing her, she rolled over and
backed into his arms. That was the loveliest cuddle, holding his love in his
arms and sort of sitting in his lap. He felt sleepily comfortable, but she
didn't feel as relaxed.

"Have to get back?"  he asked her.

"Don't have to," she said, but she checked her watch. "But..." Well,
whatever he was feeling, imposing it on her would kill the pleasure.

"Yeah. Feeling antsy?"

"Sorta. Pick me up for church?" She made clear that if this day was over,
and it seemed to be, their relationship wasn't.

"Planning to." She got up and began to dress. He followed suit. They got the
bag and the blanket taken care of and everything in the car. Her kiss on the
porch was as loving as ever.

After a shower and an early dinner, he studied for hours. In bed, he thought
of how delightful the afternoon had been, how delightful Marilyn had been.
He loved the woman, and she seemed to know that -- however much of a klutz
he was -- he was a klutz who loved her.

Then he stopped himself. Okay, he was a klutz, and Marilyn accepted that,
thank God. But he was more than that. If she accepted his weaknesses, he
owed it to her to use his strengths in her service -- in <b>their</b>
service. And he was a guy who learned things from books. So, if he was also
going to be the lover of the most beautiful girl on campus and the most
understanding woman in the world, he really owed it to her -- to the two of
them -- to learn as much as books could teach him of how to be a good lover.
He'd read several sex books already, but he'd been concentrating on the
arousing parts, not on the 'how-to' parts. Still, he knew those titles; he
could get their LofC numbers. On the shelf near them should be some other
books on the same subject. For that matter, the reference section might have
more. It wouldn't be the first time he'd learned something sitting in the
library with his head buried in a book. Tomorrow after church he'd catch up
on all his assignments, and Monday, after class, he'd head to the library.

And that was what he did. The work-study girl at the desk gave him an
appraising look when he checked one book out before dinner, but said
nothing. He returned after dinner and read some of the reference books. He
took out three more books, waiting in the line just before closing time. The
man on the desk was too busy to even note the titles.

Tuesday, he loved her as much but with a little more preparation as to how
to show it. That didn't help him that night, though. He did think of what
they were doing not as making out, but as foreplay. That wasn't all that
helpful since it wasn't before anything but a goodnight kiss. He did tell
her that she filled his daytime thoughts and his nighttime dreams.

Saturday, he filled an old pop bottle with water to wash himself off so she
didn't have to handle his stickiness. She brought new information she had
learned more about dreams in Psych class. She teased him about his earlier
statement that he dreamed of her at night. So dreams were constructs you
made up after you woke. It didn't change that she filled his thoughts.

"That's not fair. I do dream of you, same as anyone else dreams. It's just
that it happens at a different time...." Teasing was fine. She knew that she
was the center of his thoughts. And... "So, dreams are much more complicated
than I'd thought." Marilyn was somebody who wanted to know things. Weird as
they looked as a couple to some outsiders, including her sorority sisters,
they had some compatibilities.

Lunch eaten, they got down to the main purpose of their picnics. They
kissed, stripped, kissed again. When he kissed up the inside of her thigh,
she guessed his destination.

"Andy?" He'd die if she stopped him.

"Let me!" He hadn't done all that studying to have her restrict them to
Victorian standards. She tensed as his lips neared her vulva, but she didn't
push him away. That was the standard she'd stated. He kissed her labia
majora, licked them, separated them. When he licked her labia minora, her
body stopped resisting.

"Oh, Marilyn," he said. It was a response to the present taste of her
arousal and to her present acceptance of him. It was also a response to the
future that had been promised to them. He licked gently on the labia minora
and clitoris, savoring the taste, glorying in the odor, repressing his own
reaction, praying for hers.

And his prayers were answered. She writhed under his mouth and arched
upwards. When she sank back down, he sucked directly on her clitoris. She
writhed again, moaned,  and kicked her feet. When he licked her clitoris
again, she continued writhing.

When she relaxed despite his actions, he lay his head on one of her thighs
and reached for the rubber. His position wasn't the best for putting it on,
and he couldn't see. Still, he managed. Then he went back to kissing her
again. She took a while to respond at all, but, when she did, she rapidly
returned to the state of tension.

Before she could begin writhing again, he left her to get into position.
This time it would be both of them. Kneeling between her spread legs with
his chest touching her sweet nipples, he spread her outer labia with his
hand. The feel of her entrance on his tip was exquisite.

"Ohhhh, Marilyn!" As he moved forward, she clasped his tip, his head, his
shaft. He felt himself move through that soft warmth until she embraced all
of his cock. Buried in her soft acceptance, he kissed her -- all he could
reach was her forehead.

He straightened his arms to watch her, but all his attention was on the
feelings from his cock. He lifted his hips slowly to withdraw to his tip,
then he felt the sweetness of her passage as he moved into her again. She
rose to enfold him on his later strokes. He tried to move slowly to
appreciate the exquisite sensations better, but those sensations were
driving him more and more rapidly. He was afraid he'd finish all by himself
again, and her tightening around him wasn't helping.

"Oh!" she gasped. She writhed under him. This time, she writhed around him,
too. This was too much. After one more upstroke, he drove into her clasping
sweetness and pumped himself into her.

"Gah!" He felt more glory than he ever had. He felt triumph and surrender.
He held his right arm straight for one more second than seemed possible so
that he wouldn't collapse over her.

When he fell to his left, she turned with him. They lay panting in each
others' faces while the exultation turned to sweet lassitude. Feeling
himself start to soften and come out, he reached around her thigh to grip
his cock and the rubber. It stayed on.

"You get it?" Marilyn asked.

"Yeah! Really the open end it pointed the right direction that it's safe
even if I don't." Then he thought. "Safe, but maybe more messy."

"Well, I'm glad. I didn't really check before.... I mean, I trust you and
all, but I still should check." Well, her opinion was a surprise. One reason
he'd waited until he had was to keep the embarrassing -- and terribly
unromantic --business out of her sight.

"I didn't think of that. I just thought it was my responsibility." And it
was his responsibility, as much as he'd blown the responsibility on their
first picnic.

"And, if anyone in the whole damn world is responsible, it's Andy." Well,
that was -- usually -- one of his good points. Still, it didn't sound
particularly romantic even to him. Well, if she liked him for being
responsible instead of for being dashing, she was less likely to be
disappointed. But he'd been only partially responsible here.

"But I'm not being responsible if you're worried, even if you don't have
reason to be. I don't want to make you pregnant, but I don't want to make
you worried, either."

"You're a great guy." She was so kind.

"Well, a guy who loves you greatly."

"I thought we were going to learn things together." She lost him on that
one.

"We couldn't have been much more together than that." Although, at the end,
he'd wanted to enter her more deeply, that wasn't possible.

"But where did you learn that kiss?" Oh. That was her question. Where did
she think he'd learned it? She didn't sound as accusing as she'd be if she
thought some other woman had taught him. Taught him in the last week?

"Cunnilingus?" He wanted to spend the time telling her how beautiful she
was, how sexy, and how much he loved her. She wanted to hold a conversation.
On the other hand, this was even more like he imagined happy married couples
behaving than her setting out the meal. In bed, after sex, they would talk
over their day. His parents had certainly talked in their room -- or, at
least, argued. Some days they hadn't spoken to each other before going into
their room and shutting the door. But she was still waiting for his answer.
"Darling I'm your Andy, remember? And where does your Andy learn things?"

"You read a book?" She got it in one.

"I got out a couple of books. Actually, I'd read some books like that
before. I've been interested in sex for a long time." No sense trying to
hide anything from her.

"So you're going to take me through a library of marriage manuals?" Now,
that sounded wonderful, if impractical. They'd lie together in bed, reading
the book. He'd ask her 'Does that sound like something you'd like?' But,
they did not yet have teh bed, or even the time.

"Maybe sometime. It's more that I'm using my strength to make up for another
of my weaknesses. I'm a lot less experienced than you deserve." And he was,
but he was somebody who could learn. That description of him sounded more
like a good candidate for a long-term relationship than any other could.

"You're my Andy. I'm your Marilyn. You are exactly as experienced as I
want." And she was so sweet and loving when he was so calculating.

He felt more recovered now, and he'd kissed almost none of Marilyn. But
there were things to take care of first. He got his legs untangled from hers
and removed the rubber. Again, although it had felt like gallons pouring
out, the semen in the rubber was more like a gram. He tied the end and put
it in the bag with the rest of the garbage. He took the water bottle off the
edge of the blanket and rinsed himself off. Maybe she'd touch him again, and
he didn't want her to feel slime if she did.

He started his kisses on her mouth. Her tongue was delightful, but when she
drew it back, he went with his program to kiss all of her. He started on her
face, since he was there. He went down her arm to her hand. Then he kissed
the other hand and back up to that shoulder. Her breasts were right there,
and so inviting. He kissed both and sucked the nipples alternately. This
wasn't his project, though. Her abdomen quivered when he kissed across it.
But he'd done almost nothing for her back.

"Turn over, will you?" When se did, he started on the small of her back.
While he was kissing that, he stroked her smooth rump. When he reached
between her legs to her labia, the sensation was entirely different than
when he reached there from in front. She spread her legs to permit him
access, and he stroked the smoothness from one end of her inner labia to the
other. And the far end, of course, held her sweet, sensitive, sweet
clitoris.

Meanwhile, he kissed up her spine to her neck. He kissed her there and
pretended to bite it. With his mouth fully open, he licked her neck more
thoroughly. She was sweet, and he loved her, and she seemed to be responding
yet again. She was so sexy!

He reached his left arm around his head to scratch her back. Once he'd got
into that position, all his attention returned to his left hand, to the one
finger of that hand which kept stroking her moisture down to lubricate her
clitoris even more. Her rump was soft, and then hard, under his wrist. He
neck arched under his mouth. The darling was beginning to respond.
<b>His</b> darling was responding to <b>him</b>.

Then her response was total. She raised her butt under his arm. She writhed
beneath him, hard to see but an entirely different experience to feel. Her
butt hardened under his arm as her legs lifted. She continued writhing, and
it was all he could do to resist biting her neck for real.

When she stopped writhing, he moved off her to let her rest. When she didn't
turn over immediately, he said "I love you." That was true, but the
expression seemed inadequate. He began to scratch the rest of her back
lightly; he'd already got one corner. The problem was he'd said "I love you"
much earlier, kissing her goodbye on the porch, for example. And, while that
had been sort of true -- certainly not false -- he had felt so much less for
her than he did now. He loved her so much, and she was so beautiful -- her
face, her breasts, her mound, however you looked at her. But right now, she
was beautiful from this perspective.

"You are so beautiful," he said. "Do you think they designed violins to look
like a woman?" She didn't answer, but rolled over as if she didn't like the
comparison. "Although, I will admit that I like these even more." He kissed
both breasts, not seriously, just acknowledging their beauty. Then he began
to lick and suck the closer nipple.

"A-cup." She always had something negative to say about her beauty.

"Well, not just now. I prefer them out." Maybe he could tease her out of
that negativity.

"Pfft. You know what I mean." She wasn't in a mood to be jollied out of.

"Y'know, our first conversation." Then he remembered that, while it was the
first time he'd really noticed Marilyn the woman -- as opposed to the
president of MYF -- it hadn't really been their first conversation. "Well,
not the first but back when the MYF set up tables for the rummage sale, way
back then, you made some negative comment about your shape. Well, even back
then, when I had only a suspicion, I liked your shape." Actually, while he
much preferred this view, you got a pretty good idea about a woman's shape
-- if not this woman's lovely skin, responsive nipples, and the delightful
hair covering her mound -- from seeing them clothed.

"Yeah," she said. Well, at least that was established.

"Well, now that we're a couple, don't you think you should give some value
to my opinion?"  Not that his opinion was any great outlier. What did she
think that George character wanted? He wouldn't bring him up, though, he
didn't respect his opinion on any other subject. And, anyway, while he loved
to talk, this talk was interfering with kissing her nipple.

"Andy, you're wonderful." And she added a kiss to that statement. Whether he
was wonderful or not, the kiss certainly was. With his mouth busy with hers,
his tongue tasting hers, he let his hands ram over her sexy body. Her back
was smooth from her shoulders to her marvelous, firm rump. Her side was
corduroy from her ribs, then smooth, although jumpy, then it swept up to the
hip bone. Her legs went from bony at the top to smooth skin as he ran his
hand down, then even smoother skin covering softness on the inside. The
mound with its short hair guarded the center which proclaimed her a woman.
And those soft folds had their own hair, hair which he stroked. Then he
returned to the soft curvature of her breast.

But her hands were on his body, too. On his arms, they welcomed his own
strokes. On his chest, they played with his hair. As they went lower, he
could barely breathe. Well, before she brought him to the point of no
return, she should start on her own voyage. He stroked down over her
abdomen, which quaked under his hand, to her vulva. When he reached her
moisture, he began stroking in earnest.

Marilyn opened her legs to give him better access, but her own hand went the
last inch. He was happy he'd rinsed himself off. She fondled his cock and
then went lower yet. She tickled the insides of his thighs.

"C'mon," she said, "I let you." Well, so she had, and she was letting him
even as she spoke. He raised his right leg. He held his breath as her hand
went to his balls, but her touch was very gentle. It was, perhaps because of
this gentleness, also very exciting. Not content with simply touching, she
rolled his balls around on her fingers. When he had to lower the leg, she
held him in her nearly-closed hand. Even so, she stroked the back of his
scrotum with her fingers. He was getting hard, and she didn't seem about to
stop. Well, he no longer wanted her to stop, but he should show <b>some</b>
caution. It didn't look like she would.

"Wanna put it on?" After that, whatever happened would have only short-term
consequences. She didn't respond, which could mean anything. He got the
packet and handed it to her. She concentrated on the job, which got her
hands away from his balls. His mind said that was a good thing; his lust
disagreed. He got into position so she could see and reach him, but he went
back to slowly stroking her center.

When she put the rubber on, it covered him as thoroughly as his action had.
There the resemblance ended. While he'd been businesslike and avoided the
parts that even his own hand would excite, she was a temptress. He was lucky
that the rubber wasn't only fitted but filled by the time she was done. When
he got into position she looked, if not quite frightened, at least startled.
She'd been direct enough in her actions; where did she think they were
leading? But his reading had led to one more idea.

"Watch... watch us." Then he watched as he bent one of her legs to bring her
vulva into her sight and, even more, into his. He got his left arm under her
knee to push the leg up to his ear and the thigh down towards her shoulder.
His right hand pushed his cock down until the tip  nudged her labia open.
Glancing at her face to make sure she was watching, he pressed in a little
more. Then he watched, too, as he disappeared into her. The view was sexy,
but feeling her slowly surround him was much sexier. He tried to tell her
how sexy she felt.

"You are so warm around me, so sleek, so soft."  He let go of her leg, and
she lowered it so her foot was on the blanket but her thigh was cuddling his
hip. "Oh, darling Marilyn, your body is so welcoming. Tell me that you want
me, too." He wanted her; he wanted her to want him; he wanted her to say so.

"Oh, I do. Fill me!" He hoped he <b>was</b> filling her, not having anything
more to give. "Your cock feels so good in my pussy." She was saying she
wanted him, if in language not at all poetical. He kissed her once before
beginning his strokes out and in. He loved her so much!

"Oh, Marilyn." He looked in her eyes as he moved. The books could talk about
watching his cock pierce her, but the love in her eyes was even more
exciting. He had to speak of his love on every stroke: "Oh, darling... Oh,
love... Oh, sweet... Oh, darling..."

Her eyes were looking straight ahead, no longer following his face. He felt
her tense under him, and her face looked worried -- then pained. Her center
rose up, lifting him. She writhed beneath him and her face looked agonized.
Then she writhed around him!

"Oh, Marilyn. Oh, darling. Oh, darling!" He didn't want to hurt her, but he
couldn't control his body as it pounded into that smooth clenching. "Oh!" He
thrust forward and vibrated there as he pumped his life into her.

When he fell sidewards, she rolled with him again. He could feel her last
contractions draining anything left in him. He reached around her hip to
grip himself as he came out so the rubber would come too. Then he lay
panting into her face. Now, she didn't look the least worried. She looked
relaxed and loving -- and lovely, extremely lovely. He rested his head
against hers so they could touch in one more place.

"I love you," he said when he got his breath back.

"Love you, too," she replied. He could tell. She was so considerate, so
welcoming, so arousing.

"You are so sexy." It wasn't only how she looked, though she looked very
sexy, even dressed. It wasn't only how she walked or danced. It was how she
behaved with him. Her cunt welcomed him each time, but her arms welcomed
him, too, wrapping themselves around his body -- and her legs.

He kissed her nose. She moved her head up, and he kissed her mouth. Their
tongues played, but in a way that was loving rather than arousing. When her
legs relaxed, he put the rubber in the bag. He should rinse off his cock
again, but he hadn't the energy. He rolled back and they had a hug and
another kiss. Now that his hand was empty, he could scratch her back.

"This is nice, too," she said. 'Too' must mean as well as the intercourse.

"Yeah. Y'know, the quiet times are us being quiet together." Which sounded
goofy now that he'd said it. "I didn't say that very well."

"But I know what you meant, sorta." Marilyn was so understanding. "This is
us. Like going to church together is us." Which was better than he'd said
it. She rolled over and snuggled back into his arms. He held her, even
curling one leg over hers. Someday, God willing, they'd sleep like that
every night.

He rubbed down her side, then more gently up her abdomen. He stopped when he
could hold her breast. No. <b>This</b> was how he wanted to go to sleep
every night.

"You cold?" Which must mean that she was. As for him, he could take a
blizzard on his back for this warmth and smoothness on his front.

"No. You?"

"I've got you to wrap myself in. You're exposed." Well, he was available to
wrap her any time, and he was exposed -- half exposed -- to a cool breeze on
a warm day.

"I've got a hot girl in my arms keeping me nice and warm." He kept his hand
still on her breast, and just kissed her head once in a while during their
snuggle.

"I love this," she said after a while, "but..."

"But?"

"Duty calls." Well, he wasn't going to conflict with her duty. He'd first
got her interest, if not a date, by helping her with her duties.

"Okay. Let's wrap this up on a high note." He turned her over on her back.
He took a deep kiss, with some more tongue. Before she could tire of the
kiss he rose and dressed. She dressed, too. After checking that they hadn't
left any garbage, he shook out the blanket and folded it up. It went in the
trunk.

Back at her sorority, they shared another kiss on the porch.

"I love you," he said after the kiss.

"I love you, too."

"Tomorrow?"

"Of course." That was the kind of answer he wanted. Of course they were a
couple. Driving back to the dorm, he thought how satisfying that thought
was. He didn't particularly want to take her for granted. She could take him
for granted practically as long as they'd known each other. She might not
have realized that immediately, but Marilyn was a smart girl. She must have
figured it out more than a year before. He did want to take the relationship
for granted, and he wanted -- even more -- for her to take the relationship
for granted. That's what 'of course' meant.

After an early meal, he studied for several hours. When he was in bed,
though, he let his mind wander over the afternoon. She was so sexy, so
arousing. But the best part was that "of course." He had to worry about
pleasing her, about arousing her, about doing his best for her. He didn't
have to worry about her wandering off. He didn't even have to worry about
her forgiving him when he was a klutz. He'd been a klutz, and she'd forgiven
that.

What should they do the next picnic. Well, he still had four books, and he'd
not really plumbed the depths of the first one. But next Saturday wouldn't
be a good time. She'd have her period then, and she was reticent about her
periods.

Monday, he discovered the perfect solution. There was a dance that Saturday,
and they'd gone to the university dances in the past. So, he'd invite her to
the dance instead of on a picnic.

After the movie, he brought it up.

"I love you, Marilyn."

"And I love you, too."

"I want us to be a couple in all ways. I love what we do on picnics, but we
should be a college-dating couple, too." He wasn't saying this very well.
When he thought things out, he just elaborated on the context. "Well, next
Saturday is a dance. Maybe we should go rather than having a picnic." There,
he'd said it.

"Andy, you're a wonderful guy." Nice of her to say so. He wasn't a wonderful
speaker, that was for sure.

But, that evening, she was at her sexiest, even though she didn't strip
bare. She writhed in his arms three times, and kissed him hot and long on
her sorority porch.

That Saturday, she danced sexily in front of him and romantically in his
arms. Afterwards, although he was obstructed by the pantyhose, she writhed
in his arms four times.

Tuesday, they settled on another picnic that coning Saturday. Saturday, they
got their Whoppers and shakes. They drove to the usual location. Then the
sky caved in. The farmer was apparently plowing that field. At least, he was
driving his tractor across it.

"Oh, shit." And that wasn't one millionth of what he felt.

"Think you can find another place?" she asked. He was far from sure about
the answer, but giving up in this circumstance was worse that failing.

"A couple of possibilities." None of them probabilitities, and none of them
-- when he reached them -- unplowed. "I'm sorry," he said finally.

"I'm sorry, too. Look, could you find a parking space?" She clearly didn't
mean a place to leave the car. He found a spot shaded -- if not hidden -- by
trees and on a dirt road which looked untraveled.

When they were in the back seat, she set down the bag of food and stripped
off her t-shirt. After she'd removed her bra, she pulled it back on. Then
she pushed her jeans and her panties down to her knees.

"Help me up." When he did, she turned so her back was towards him. "Now,
give me the bag of food." It was a bit of a stretch, he had to hold her on
his lap while he tilted over. When she got the bag, she took out a Whopper
and unwrapped it.

After she'd had a small bite, she held it for him to have a larger bite.

"Don't want you handling the food," she said. "I don't want to get any
grease on me." With that hint, he started on the feast she'd spread for his
hands. His left went under her shirt to cup the delightful breasts. His
right went between her thighs, spread by sitting with his knees between her
lower legs. This was the ideal way to eat.

She stiffened on his lap. She also stopped feeding him, but that was a minor
detail. Instead, he took a taste of her ear. She wriggled. He held her
against him with his left arm while that hand stroked the nipple of her
right breast. He pushed his finger deeper into her, and then drew the
moisture that he got there up to her clitoris. She tensed, and he tried to
hold her tighter. Her mound pressed into his hand.

Then she writhed in his arms. He tried to keep stroking her clitoris while
she writhed. When she relaxed, he held her more closely, swayed in his seat,
and crooned wordlessly to her.

Um!" she said, jerking in his lap. She sounded worried, not content the way
he felt. She was looking at the hands which held the Whopper. The bun was
squeezed tight against the meat, and the sauce was mostly on her hands.

"Give me one," he said. He took her left hand in his, and brought it up to
lick it off. When that looked clean, he reached for her left hand. He
finished off the Whopper, easier than working around it. Then he went for
the tastier morsels of her fingers. He sucked each one.

"I've got Kleenex behind me," he offered.

"No," she said retrieving a napkin from the bag. She wiped off both her
hands. "It's still a little sticky."

"I could lick it again. Maybe each finger needs to have the stickiness
sucked off."

"You're impossible." She didn't try to stop him, though. And, whatever it's
contribution to cleanliness, sucking her fingers was sexy as hell.

"Hold it a minute," she said when he had finished with all ten fingers.
Apparently, she didn't mean hold her hand, because she used both of them to
get a shake out of the bag. She took a sip, and then held it up for him.
Again, the thought of her lips on the straw before him improved the taste.
After they were done with the shake, she returned it to the bag and brought
out another wrapped Whopper. This time she was careful to leave a good deal
of paper to guard her hand. All this twisting and reaching was continually
moving her mound and labia under his hand -- much more satisfying than the
food. His left hand, however, had been busy holding her hands. He returned
it to her soft breasts.

She said "Okay," holding the Whopper for him to eat. All this concentration
on food had allowed her nipples to soften. He soon repaired that. It hadn't
dried her up down below at all, and he soon was stroking the moisture
upwards to her clit.

They shared food and love for a time too delightful to measure. After a
while, she was no longer feeding him -- she wasn't even feeding herself.
That was fine, and he felt her stiffen. Then she came close to ruining it.

"Another minute." He froze. She put the food away before bending her body in
an arc which pressed her vulva into his hand "Okay," she said relaxing in
his arms and lap. Well, if it was okay for her, it was delightful for him.
He pressed a finger into her again to gather more liquid. Then he stroked
that over her clitoris again and again. He moved his left hand from across
her chest to hold her left breast and tweak that nipple.

Her relaxation didn't last long. She stiffened, and then writhed in his
arms. When she'd rested a while from that, she reached for the food again.
In this position, he couldn't reach her neck to kiss; he could only reach
the side of her face and her ear. His hands, however, had license to roam
her body except when she was arranging the food. And she didn't seem to be
limiting the number of times she would writhe in his arms.

When she'd taken the last sip of the second shake, though, she straightened
in his arms. She got out of his lap and seemed to have decided the meal and
the occasion was over. If he'd known the end of the food would be the
signal, he would have eaten less.

"Love you," he said after their parting kiss.

"Love you, too."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." But Sunday she had another idea. Coming back from church, she
breached it.


"Could you pick me up, say, 45 minutes later when you come by on Tuesday?"

"We'll miss the opening of the movie." But, if she had something to do, he'd
cooperate. After all, the movies weren't the important parts of their movie
dates. Tuesday, she completed her surprise.

"Y'know, the beginning of the film has already run." Well, he'd warned her
of that.

"Yeah."

"Without us." Her first comment was stating the obvious. This was
underlining the obvious.  "Ya think the rest of the film could run without
us?" The light dawned. Dad had been right; he was much too stupid for her.
But, having got the idea finally, he could act on it. He started for the
nearest safe parking space.

"Marilyn, you are a dream!" And she was. And they went on movie dates three
times a week for the rest of the year without seeing a movie. The only
exception was the last university dance of the season. With fewer -- he
hoped -- nights for cramming in the period up to exams, he started his
cramming early.

The end
Picnickers -- M
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2011/09/01


These same events from Marilyn's perspective, can be read in:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_05f.htm
Marilyn's experience

The first adventures of Andy with Marilyn:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_01m.htm
"The Meeting - M"

Another story about another couple starting sex:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/story/zee.htm
"Your Zee"

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