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From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Established - F" -- Uther -- MF wl
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Date: Wed, 27 Jun 2012 23:10:01 -0400
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If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read
electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else.

This material is copyright, 2012, 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.



Established - F
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com

MF wl


Carolyn Pierce felt a constant tension between her duties as a mother, as a
teacher, and as a scholar. She'd be able to put teaching on hold when the
university was closed for the summer. In May of '78, though, it took up
most of her time, and would expand to take all of her waking time if she
let it. That was another demand, sleep, and Bill thought she had
responsibilities as a wife, too. She sort of agreed, but couldn't these
responsibilities be put on hold until grades were in? Sex couldn't, and she
enjoyed sex, although she didn't rate it as far over sleep in importance as
she had as an undergraduate.

House hunting, however, had waited for 5 years of their marriage and 4 of
their being parents. Couldn't it wait for another month?

"Look," Bill said. "We're talking about a place where we'll spend much of
the rest of our lives, where the boys will grow up. We want to look
carefully, and we don't want to limit ourselves. If we plan to move in the
day we close, we'll limit ourselves to places which don't need any repair.
We'll limit ourselves to the decor, at least the paint job, that the
previous owners liked. I've got an extension on our lease through August.
Do you really want to move in September? You think house-hunting takes
time? It's less hassle than moving. At least, when we're house-hunting,
we'll have a secure place to leave the twins. At least we will until Barb
leaves." Barb, their daily help and Paul and Johnny's center of security,
was pregnant and engaged.

"Okay. You look. You're the one with strong preferences."

"Until you see my choice and veto it." Did she really have a veto? Did she
really want a veto?

"Even so, and I don't have all that high standards. I'd like a place I
could work at home, but the University doesn't ask my opinion before
assigning me an office. You get some places you'd accept, and then I'll
look." And, with any luck, Bill, who was hard to please in many things,
wouldn't have any choices until classes were over for the '77 - '78 school
year.

Bill took two weeks of vacation in May and started looking. If he was hard
to please, he was also a determined man. He wanted the two of them to look
at one house on Saturday afternoon. She came home from her Saturday-morning
class to find that Mrs. Donnely, their planned baby sitter, couldn't make
it.

After a little discussion, she  left the twins with Bill and went to the
real-estate agent herself. The agent, Marge Vargas, didn't look happy.

"You'll really have to look the place over together," she said.

"I'm sure." Although she didn't see why. She and Bill would have to talk
about it, but they could do that from having seen it at different times.
"He likes it, though. If I absolutely love it, you'll have made a sale. If
I absolutely hate it, probably not. If I'm somewhere in between, we'll have
to find a time we both can come." After all, if Vargas thought she was
wasting {b}her{/b} time, she wasn't wasting time that had as many demands
on it as Carolyn's time did. And she'd get compensated very well for that
time, even if the seller's agent and the agency would take big slices of
that pie first.

She neither hated nor loved the place. What was there to hate or love about
a house which you had no past in? She loved, and hated for that matter, the
house in which she'd grown up. This house evoked no memories. The parlor
off the living room was small for that purpose, but large for an office
just for her. That was Bill's suggestion, though. The upstairs contained
more rooms than they'd really need. She knew, though, that they'd find uses
for them. 'Stuff accumulates to fill all the room you have for it, and then
more.'

The outside was more problematical. The stand-alone garage was built for
two large cars and then some. That was fine. The house to the west, though,
was an eyesore.

"The City of Evanston is in court to tear it down," Vargas told her. "I
don't know when that will be resolved." Like in this century? Still, it was
odd that Bill had even considered the house with that one next door. Well,
it was his friends, or his business colleagues who had to pretend to be
friends, whom they had to worry about impressing.

"What do you think?" Vargas asked when they went back to their separate
cars.

"I'll talk to Bill." And she would. Maybe they could each think about it
until classes let out. She had already decided that she wasn't going to any
conferences on regional economics in '78.

"Okay," Bill asked when she got home, "did you like it?" The kids were
watching Saturday cartoons.

"It's awfully big."

"A house for a family of four. The twins will get bigger. They're four in
'78. They'll be sixteen in '90. They'll need a little room, then. This
place is cramped for the entertaining I have to do as a vice president, and
I want a formal space that can be separate from the family space."

"Keep Johnny and Paul away from your guests?" Bill so often played the
doting parent.

"As far as possible. I'm proud of my boys -- our boys -- but I don't want
to cramp them very long the way they'd have to be cramped among business
guests."

"You let them run in church." And she sometimes heard about that from other
choir members. The majority opinion in the choir, though, was that the
twins were cute.

"Yeah. 'Suffer the little children to come unto me and restrain them not.'"
Wasn't it '... and forbid them not.'? "It's His house. He sets the rules.
Andalusia, on the other hand, contains some real pricks." She glanced
towards the living room reflexively. The boys were engrossed in TV, too
engrossed, she hoped, to notice Daddy's language.

"If I said that..."

"To me alone, I'd let it go. Of course, I know which executive of Andalusia
you know best."

"Well..." She had often thought that Bill was a prick, if that wasn't her
preferred term. She had called him worse, but not when the boys would hear.
She didn't, however, think of him in terms of being an executive of his
drug firm. He thought of that as his identity. She thought of Andalusia as
an appendage to Bill.

"And the office?" he asked.

"It's really a parlor." And it would be large for an office. That, too,
would fill up, though. She could already imagine it crammed with
bookshelves and file cabinets.

"I didn't say that anyone else had used it for an office. Could you use it
for an office? It's right off the living room, but you could shut the door
when we were entertaining. You would be needed, anyway. You couldn't work
then."

"It looks great."

"You sure that you still want the changing table? Wouldn't it smell?" They
had talked about her getting her desk back. They didn't need a changing
table now that the twins were 4. She hadn't reclaimed it because there was
no other place to put it but the boys' room.

"We selected it for my desk at home years ago. It doesn't smell that bad;
we kept a pad on it. Get it out of the boys' room, and its odor will fade
fast." Then she brought up another question. "Isn't the house far from the
EL for your purposes?"

"I drive to the EL anyway. I only walk now when the weather invites it, and
the weather hardly ever invites it. Besides, I've been thinking of getting
a parking space downtown."

"And the next-door neighbors?" he asked. That house was an eyesore.
Regional economics should suggest that it would lower the desirability of
the location. Actually, she was blowing smoke. Regional economics didn't
really look at those conditions.

"You mean the Adams family?" He grinned and nodded. "Is it safe?"

"I don't see how they could get in."

"Look, my friends wouldn't bat an eye if we lived next to a graveyard. How
about your friends?" The house, indeed, was impressive by college-faculty
standards.

"So, we invite them after dark. Actually, I'm not in any danger of getting
fired, and I have little chance of getting promoted this coming decade, if
ever."

"Reached your level of incompetence?"

"Not quite, although the presidency might very-well be it. Look, if the
board is happy with Watkins, they'll keep him for another 16 years. If they
get unhappy with Watkins, they won't want to make another marketing guy
president."

Well, really, it fit her needs. Maybe it was larger than fit her needs, but
something like that had always been a consequence of her marrying Bill. The
problems she saw were more problems he might have, and he said they
wouldn't matter. He visited the place a couple of times more, and she went
briefly after church the next week. She agreed that he should try to buy
it. When he agreed upon a price, she wasted a couple of hours at the
closing only contributing a few signatures. It was legally their house. It
would be Bill's house. Well, it would be the house in which the twins grew
up, and they were her boys.

The larger problem was replacing Barb. Luckily, she got time after grades
were in before that problem got critical. She took naps and long tub baths
for days. Johnny and Paul sometimes interrupted her naps. There was only
one bathroom, and each of them {b}always{/b} had to use the toilet while
she was in the tub. Even so, the luxury of having someone else on hand to
deal with them while she could deal with herself could have spoiled her if
it had lasted longer than a week. She had some ideas about the housekeeper
which had to be cleared with Bill. She brought it up when they were getting
ready for bed.

"You know, Bill, that the larger house means someone has to take care of
it."

"Well, I don't expect you to be that someone." That he didn't expect it was
his good luck. She hadn't even {b}considered{/b} doing the housework there.
"That was perfectly clear before we were married. Anyway, the boys will be
less of a problem, and they'll have a space to make their messes in that
doesn't have to meet entertainment standards." She thought he meant they'd
have some place upstairs to play. That could mean other problems, too.

"Does that mean that you aren't going to spin them around until they vomit
in the living room any more?"

"That was once, and it was only Johnny. {b}'They'{/b} didn't throw up. He
did. Do you really want me to stop dealing with the boys in the living
room?" Well, no, not the way he said it.

"I never wanted you to stop dealing with the boys. I want you to deal with
them less violently." What was wrong with reading them a book? What was
wrong with a little quiet play?

"Well, they're boys. You'll have to admit that I don't pick on them. Lots
of what I say and do pisses them off. Lots pisses you off. What do I do
with them that you and they {b}both{/b} disapprove of?"

Well, back to the subject she had intended. "Anyway, we're going to have to
get someone new. And that person will have to be a genuine housekeeper."

"Yeah. Really, I think that's your pidgin. I have to approve, but you have
to deal with her." That was good news. She didn't want to hire someone who
thought she could go over her head to Bill.

"Well, I've been thinking. Remember when Andy and your girlfriend, Marilyn
got hitched?"

"She was hardly my girlfriend. I just thought that the kids were getting a
rotten deal. The wedding was years ago, and I've barely spoken to either
one since." Bill was too sensitive to her teasing about that. Sure, he'd
been mad that the UMW bounced the MYF out of their meeting space without a
'by your leave.' But Marilyn had also been a pretty girl -- was now a
pretty woman. He hadn't been hitting on her, but her looks was one thing
influencing him. "What about it?" he asked, and that was really the present
question.

"Well, one of the guests was their housekeeper, and Andy called her 'Mrs.
Byron' or something. It seems that when she was hired, Jim thought it was
wrong for his young kid to call a grown woman by her first name."

"Well, he calls you by your first name. Me, too." Yeah, now. They'd been
'Mr. Pierce' and 'Mrs. Pierce' when Bill had pulled his coup.

"Yeah. But he's not so young anymore. The twins, on the other hand..."

"So, you want them to call the new hire 'Mrs. Smith,' or something. I can
see your point, or Jim's point."

"And that means we call her that, too. After all, we're talking about an
authority figure -- for the boys, not for us."

"Well, I'm not sure names influence whether boys that age obey. They obey
Barb faster than they obey you or me." Well, the twins weren't going to be
4 forever.

"That age, sure, though even now I'm not sure. But I'm looking for a
permanent hire. I'm planning to spend lots of time looking and then more
time persuading the boys to trust her. I sure don't want to do that over
again. Do you really think that they'd obey someone they call 'Barb,' a
Black woman they call 'Barb,' in 10 years?"

"Fourteen? Do I think they'll obey anyone at 14? Not likely."

"Well, that's true, but I think the name would give us a little edge."

"Sure. I don't care. Actually, your idea makes sense." A rare
acknowledgment from Bill. "It's bad management to deny your employees
dignity. It's highly valued and costs you almost nothing."

"There are days I think you learned something valuable in getting that MBA."

"I learned lots in business school."

"Yeah, but much of it was nonsense." Bill let her have the last word. They
were, after all, in their bedroom. Bill was very interested in arguing, but
less interested in arguing than he was interested in sex.

Then she looked for a housekeeper. Isabelle Jackson looked good. She was
old enough that her own kids were out of the nest but young enough that she
thought she could keep up with two 4-year-olds. Carolyn doubted that; she
was decades younger and she couldn't keep up with them -- sometimes had
trouble keeping up with either one of them. Well, she wasn't expecting
miracles.

"It's 8:30 to 4:30 five days a week. If I get earlier teaching hours, we
might have to modify that, but we'll talk about it if that happens. Two
weeks vacation and damn few holidays. Sometimes, I'll need you to stay
longer if I'm planning on entertaining. That will be only if you agree to
do it in the particular case. It will be overtime, which means
time-and-a-half if you do. Don't depend on that; it won't be often. Your
first task is the kids. If they need you and nothing else gets done, deal
with them. That's if they {b}need{/b} you. They may very well want you
every minute of the day. Don't be afraid of putting them off. Other days,
they won't want you to even notice what they're doing. Well, you would be
in charge.

"We're moving to a house, soon. So your housekeeping tasks will be much
more than the apartment makes it seem.

"We're thinking of a long-term arrangement. We only let Barb go because she
wanted to start her own family. Talk to her when I can't hear; she'll tell
you the same thing. Obviously, when they start school, your tasks will be
different. But we'll still need someone, and if you work out that someone
will be you."

"That sounds good. They look like nice boys."

"You have children, don't you?" She got a nod. "How many boys?"

"Two, and three girls."

"Twins are worse. Well, as I said, you're in charge. We would rather that
you don't spank them. Please report to me if you do, and for what." The
'we' in that was a little white lie. Bill spanked them, spanked them too
often. "And part of being in charge is what they call you. I don't mean
dirty names; report those, too. But you'll be 'Mrs. Jackson' to them.
Probably to my husband and me, too, at least when they're around."

"I can accept that."

"Meals. You'll cook lunch for them -- and for me when I'm home in the
summers. I expect you'll eat them, too. You'll cook most dinners days
you're here. We have coffee, and you're welcome to it. Anything else
special is negotiable. Keep me informed about anything we run out of, food
or cleaning items. In an emergency, buy it and we'll reimburse you."  She
thought that Mrs. Jackson might be doing more and more of their shopping,
but time would tell.

"Snacks?" asked the woman who, after all, had raised 5 kids of her own.

"Sure. They have to leave an appetite for dinner, for lunch, too, but
you'll be the judge of that more often than I will. I don't like sugary
snacks. PBJs are fine. When you're in a hurry, they still eat Cheerios --
not with milk and sugar, just get a saucer for each and shake some Cheerios
into them."

But the discussion of snacks raised another issue. "That's another thing.
We don't encourage them to eat. We give them half what they want, and then
the other half after they've finished everything on the first plate. If one
says he's not hungry, fine. Just no snacks until he's finished the lunch
he's left."

Sometime in the conversation, they'd gone from discussing what the job
would be like if she hired Mrs. Jackson and she accepted to saying how Mrs.
Jackson would handle the job. She never actually hired Mrs. Jackson, but
one Monday morning she showed up and Barb didn't. She had scheduled the day
to get Johnny and Paul used to Mrs. Jackson, but the snacks did it for her.
Mrs. Jackson was much more generous with the jelly than Barb had been.

The actual moving took all three of them. By this time, Mrs. Jackson had a
key to the apartment. She got a key to the house before moving day was
over. Between closing and moving, Bill had had the place repainted and the
downstairs recarpeted. Carolyn had been consulted on the colors, but not on
whether the job should be done. Bill didn't see himself as arrogant, merely
as right -- not even as always right, merely as right in each individual
case.

The next morning after breakfast, Bill took the twins out in the back yard
to learn to play catch with a ball he'd bought. She and Mrs. Jackson were
left with the task of getting the house in order. The back yard was larger
than the front yard, and -- she now saw -- more important to Bill. That was
where he was going to be with the boys. She'd had a thought about a
vegetable garden, though she couldn't imagine where she'd get the time.
She'd grown up in a house with a vegetable garden. Well, she could tell
that there wasn't going to be any place for a vegetable garden. That was
all scheduled to be a play lot.

She was a teacher, and Bill was an executive, both jobs that placed a high
priority on communication skills. You'd think that they should be able to
communicate with each other. Somehow, she was only now seeing the house --
property, really -- through Bill's eyes. It had a living room and dining
room for entertaining his colleagues. It had an upstairs for sleeping and
bathing. It had a yard for boys to be boys.

The kitchen table was large enough to seat 5 without too much crowding.
They had lunch there. Bill carried the boys upstairs to their bedroom for
their naps. They argued, but each had nearly conked out during lunch. There
were more bedrooms -- or some sort of rooms -- up there than they had
people to fill them, but that was necessary fit atop the downstairs that
Bill thought they needed. Well Bill was probably right about that. He was
thinking about his colleagues, after all.

She'd been arranging her new office when Bill came down. He asked Mrs.
Jackson for a shopping list for any supplies they might need. Then he asked
her to accompany him on the shopping trip. That hardly seemed necessary,
but she went. As soon as he was out of the driveway, she figured that he
was more interested in talking than in shopping.

"Look," he began, "you're a great mother -- a little overprotective, maybe,
but a great mother. I'm sure you're a great economics professor. Sometimes,
could you think about being a wife?" That was unfair. They screwed almost
every night.

"I think about it. I do it. What more -- what specific things more -- do
you want me to do? Sometimes, I feel on the edge of exhaustion?"

"Only sometimes? Only at the edge? Most of the time you look exhausted and
act exhausted. I don't want you spending more time on wifely chores. I want
you spending less time on other chores. I want a rested Carolyn when I have
you. It seems to me that the last time I saw you relaxed was when you came
back from Boulder. Was that two years ago?" She had expected him to say
something about how much harder he worked. This direction really threw her
for a loop. But the last sentences were factual. That conference had been a
personal disaster.

"Yeah. I spent the first two days in bed. I dragged myself out, presented
the paper, and went right back to bed." Mountain sickness was no joke.

"You shouldn't have told me that." Which was a total non sequitur. She
{b}had{/b} told him that, or fairly near, and he sounded bitter. He'd just
said that she didn't get enough rest, and now he was complaining that she
had got some rest nearly two years before.

"Well, I told you I had mountain sickness. Do you know what that is?"

"Something to do with altitude. I don't think we make anything for it."
Yeah. His knowledge of medicine consisted of a list of drugs Andalusia
produced and the sicknesses for which they were prescribed.

"Unless you provide oxygen tanks. You lose all your energy for a few days
until your body gets used to the lower air pressure. I don't think there is
any treatment other than sleep."

"You're saying you were in bed alone?" Damn it. Of course she'd been alone.
He hadn't been there. Oh, Hell! He was suspecting her of cheating. Sex with
one man produced enough problems.

"Well, you weren't there. If you had been, I'd have told you not to touch
me. Bill, you haven't seen me really exhausted. Getting up to pee was a
major effort. What did you think I meant?" Say it out loud.

"Actually, I've always suspected those conferences. You're there. Bunches
of men and very few other women are there. I and the boys aren't there. You
are, for once, rested. You talk about socializing. I'd rather not know how
far that socializing goes."

"Well, I don't go very far. Really, I went to a few conferences as a grad
student, and guys hit on me. Hell! Guys hit on me throughout school. I'm
used to it. That doesn't mean I took them all up on it. Don't tell me that
you didn't hit on girls; I can't believe that you started in church." And
he'd hit on her fairly early in her attendance, Not that he had done
anything gross then. He'd invited her on a date. If the dates had shown him
to be an arrogant bastard, it was the conversation rather than any groping
which had revealed his faults.

"Well, I generally did my hunting in other venues. You were just too
tempting."

"Anyway, guys mostly have stopped hitting on me. A few undergraduate
students, and those guys are more weird than attractive. You're the only
guy who sees me without my bra these days -- well, Dr. Gabel -- and I'd
rather you didn't. I haven't been with any man since we married." Well, he
was a man. "Any other man." Not that he'd be bothered by that exception.
"Really, not since our first kiss. I wasn't being faithful to you back
then. Hell! I {b}fought{/b} with other people, and that was what we were
doing most of that time. I dated some guys, but they didn't attract me
enough that I went to bed with them. Can you say the same?" If we're going
to have true confessions, how about all those nubile file clerks dancing
around his office.

"If you mean guys, yeah," he evaded. "What you really mean, I made a
promise on our wedding day, and I've kept that promise. I won't claim that
I was faithful to you when you told me that you wouldn't date me if I was
the last man on earth." That was fair, and the exception made the first
claim sound more likely.

"Well, as I said, I wasn't trying to be faithful to you, either. I was a
free woman, and I was very selective -- except for once." That might be too
subtle for him.

"Yeah. You really went slumming then. But, admit it, I can really bring you
off." It hadn't been too subtle for him, after all. {b}Some{/b} days, she
and Bill could communicate.

"Oh, you're sexy as hell. Girls complain about guys doing all their
thinking with their little heads. Your problem is that you try to use the
one above the neck. You do much better with the other one."

"Well, you're sexy as hell, too. I just think you'd be even sexier if you
got enough sleep." Well, probably she would be.

"And I wasn't slumming with you." Much as she sometimes regretted her
decision, it had been a conscious decision. If most men had quit hitting on
her since the twins' birth, Bill hadn't, and that made up for a lot. "Look,
Bill, I've never claimed that you don't have your good points. I'm even
beginning to appreciate your skills in child care, which wasn't what I
considered when I decided to marry you."

"And I keep you well, too. Somehow, I think that if it were known that I'm
a corporate vice president and making more at 38 than 90% of men ever do,
that would interest lots of women." Well, that was tough! She hadn't
married him looking for financial support. She hadn't married him looking
for emotional support either, and {b}that{/b} was God-damned fortunate.

"Well, I don't worry about the women who want your paycheck. I worry about
the women who lust after you because you're GIB."

"Well, you're the only woman is in a position to find that out. What grates
is that the provision of the roof over your head counts for so little."

"Well, I always pictured myself as providing my own support ultimately.
That hasn't worked out all that well. Somehow, I didn't include full-time
child care in the expenses."

"The best-laid plans of mice and men..." As he said that, he turned into
the shopping mall. Although he parked, he left the car turned on. Well,
that kept the air on as well.

"Yeah. Anyway, what more do you want me to do? Try harder at what?" As if
she weren't trying hard at all sorts of things already.

"You know, you take one Tuesday a month for those circle meetings." Yeah,
and while a chore sometimes, the Priscilla Circle was also the closest
thing she had to a hen party. Many of the women had kids who had gone
through things that Johnny and Paul were beginning to go through. The
younger mothers appreciated her experience.

And was he going to bitch about being left with the twins? It wasn't as if
she were abandoning her kids alone to run around in cafe society. For that
matter, he had church meetings, too, as well as business meetings. At least
he claimed that they were business meetings.

"Well, you take a Tuesday a month, too, and a Monday. Do you want me to
quit?"

"Not particularly. That leaves 2 other Tuesdays. And Finance takes some
months off. What I'm suggesting is that when we're both home you take the
other Tuesdays off from the boys. Get yourself some sleep."

"You mean that?" He was saying something she had never expected.

"I mean that. Why would I bring it up if I didn't mean it. Damn it, woman,
the only thing we had going for us when we got married was sexual
compatibility."

"Well, I try to deal with all your sexual needs. Don't say that I don't."
And, really it was compatibility. She never claimed to lie back and think
of England. When she lay back she thought of his cock -- sometimes of his
mouth or fingers or all of the above.

"One of my sexual needs is a sex partner who isn't sleep deprived. Is that
so strange? Would I be more fun if I was falling asleep?"

"Okay. I can't call that a selfish demand. I'll try to take those nights
off." He really wanted that. Well, it was the first demand on her time in a
long while that wouldn't leave her more exhausted.

"Look. Do more than try. Prioritize. If I'm not home, you take care of the
boys. If you have to grade papers, you can do it. You go to the circle. For
anything else, you have a conflict and can't make it. It's just that the
appointment is with your bed."

"I'll try." And she really would.

She'd had fears for the longest time that he would take up with another
woman. Other times, she had been certain that she already had. He wouldn't
leave her; more accurately, he wouldn't leave the boys. But what he'd have
left for her after screwing some file-clerk in the storage room she
couldn't predict. Even if he could get it up again, he'd use up his
imagination on his office mistress. That mistress wouldn't have to come
home from pouring her mind out trying to get undergraduates to think in
economic terms to pour her soul out trying to get two savages to express
themselves in civil terms.

He'd always wanted her sexually, but this was the first time since the
twins were born that he'd said that he wanted her to be more sexual. And,
it wasn't wanting her to act more sexual, either, really. He seemed to
accept that she was all there for him. He just wanted the 'all' to be more.

And, the very next Tuesday, she started. He was still home that week. Mrs.
Jackson left them a pork-chop dinner, and she called the 3 from their TV
when it was on the table. She cut Paul's meat while Bill cut Johnny's. At
the end of the meal, Bill collected the boys to wash the grease off their
hands.

"Leave the dishes," he said. "Why don't I bring the boys in later to say
good night." He was telling her he expected her to go to bed, as they had
previously agreed. While she made her bed preparations, they went outside
for more play. Bill's plans for the twins had been delayed by three cases
of sunburn, but the sun was far enough down by now to be no threat. She
fell asleep while they were out. Later, they trooped in to kiss her good
night. Instead of Mama visiting the boys in their beds, they visited Mama
in hers. They thought nothing odd about that. She woke partly again much
later when Bill came to bed. She cuddled against him, and she felt his
erection press into her seat, but he didn't try to wake her all the way up.

"You were right," she said when they had all eaten breakfast and Mrs.
Jackson had come. For once, the adults outnumbered the kids. "I feel much
more rested now."

"I doubt that one night is enough, but we'll have some more before you get
too deep in your teaching." Classes would start soon, one problem with
teaching for the U of I.

Still, he'd been great. That night, soon after the boys were in bed, he
settled down in front of the TV again.

"You sure you can't think of something more interesting?" she asked.

"Can you?" He'd caught her implication.

"Yeah. Finish this show. I'll take a while." Then, too, she wanted to be
sure the boys were deeply asleep.

The new master bedroom had a bathroom of its own. There was a shower stall,
but no tub. She took a second shower for the day and shampooed her hair.
When he came up, she was sitting in front of her mirror with the hairbrush
in her hand.

"Do you want me to do that?" Bill asked. The man had a serious hair fetish.
She nodded without admitting that she'd been sitting there waiting for him
to come up. As he brushed her hair, she let the robe fall open. He could
see her cleavage if not the full breasts. The motions that revealed her
delta weren't natural, and they could hardly have fooled him. He didn't
complain, though. "Do you think you could let it grow out again some day?"
he asked. Despite his view -- and she could see in the mirror that he was
appreciating the view -- he was still concentrating on the hair on her head.

"Maybe. They don't grab as often, and they could reach it now if they
wanted to." Long hair, like ear rings, were a constant danger around
babies. Long hair also required more care, but Bill might enjoy providing
some of that care. Still, the hair didn't go any faster when he was doing
it, even if his brushing was vastly more enjoyable than her own.

When he was done with the hair, she stood up and began unbuttoning his
shirt. Before she got to his pants, his erection was visible in them. She
gave him a long, wet kiss when she'd peeled them down. His hands were all
over her during the kiss. When she stepped away from him, he was trapped
with his trousers down around his ankles and his shoes still on.

"Get the light and door, will you." She turned on a lamp and dropped onto
her side of the bed face down. She supported part of her weight on her
elbows to ease the pressure on her breasts.

"Minx." His voice sounded aroused rather than annoyed, though. He grabbed
the chair she'd been sitting in and swung it around back of him so that he
could sit down and finish undressing. He turned off the light and clicked
the lock on the door. The boys were asleep and didn't come in, anyway, but
they didn't need a primal scene. From his own side of the bed, he caressed
her back before stroking down to her thighs and then between them. He
kissed the back of her neck while rubbing her outer lips against each
other. When she spread her legs more, her left leg bumped into his.

"Sorry," he said and moved to give her more room. Now, he'd parted the lips
to get to her clit. Those strokes sped her arousal.

She was getting close, and she raised her ass off the mattress. As she
pushed back to be lower in the bed and on her knees. Bill moved behind her.
She could feel his hand leave her ass. Then his cock took its place.

"Yes," she said. She could feel those lips parted as he pushed inside.

"Yes," he said when he'd filled her vagina. His hand came around her to
reach her clit from the front.

"Let me," she said as she pressed back. She could barely support her own
weight when she was only a little above the mattress, and she would have to
support his soon enough. He let her push him back until she had her
balance. "Yeah." Then he began driving in and out. With the friction inside
and his finger on her clit, her arousal grew, then peaked.

She flew. He drove in and out through her vaginal spasms. He erupted before
she was quite done. His weight {b}was{/b} on her back, then, and she
collapsed forward onto her elbows. Some time later, he kissed her neck one
more time and got off. When her way was clear, she rolled over on her side.
The lay facing each other.

"You," he said, "have the best ideas."

"Well, you have good ideas, too." She meant the sleep time.

"Yeah, but you give me those, too." He obviously meant something sexual.
Well, that was fine. Sex was, as they had been told when they first got
engaged, an inadequate basis on which to establish a marriage. It was,
however, a {b}fun{/b} one.


The end
Established - F
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2012/07/27

These same events from Bill's perspective:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/pie_18m.htm
Bill's experience

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

Another story about another couple whose kids interfere with another stage
of their relationship:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/gus_02f.htm
"Life is Complicated - F"


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