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"Forgiven"
This material is Copyright, 1997, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. |
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Forgiven
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"If you had any idea how many fathers don't ever read to their kids you wouldn't make fun of my early start with Oswald. Besides it's a Grant ritual. Do you think my mother is a goofus?" Jeanette had too much respect for Katherine Grant Brennan to answer that question. "The books say that Penelope doesn't have any aural nerves yet. I think that you are rushing things. Come on up and talk to me." "Okay. Sleep tight, little Quentin; it's time for Daddy to pay Mommy some attention." He began to kiss a circle around her navel. When Jeanette pulled at his shoulders, he slowly moved higher, stopping to kiss and lick the underside of her breasts. He moved on to the nipple on the far breast, not leaving it until Jeanette was breathing shallowly. "Now what ..." He kissed her lightly on the lips "... did you want ..." He pressed his mouth on a slant across hers and licked her lips inside and out. "... to talk ..." He went into a full- kiss mode, with his tongue playing with hers when it wasn't exploring her whole mouth. "... about? Huh?" He dropped back on the pillow and looked at her with eyebrows raised in dramatic inquisitiveness. Jeanette took a minute before replying. "Oh, I don't know," she said. She stroked slowly downward across Bob's chest and abdomen. "Use any oral communication that you consider appropriate." Bob caught her hand just as it reached his pubic hair. He brought it to his mouth and sucked each finger briefly. "Oh, I love you," he said before rolling over to resume the kiss. And he did love her, the quick mind almost as much as the graceful body. He wanted to ravish her, bury himself in her until he was sharing space with the atom of life that their love had created; but he wanted to shelter her, and that atom, from all possible injury. He caressed all that he could reach of her during the kiss. He stroked her arm and torso as well as her breast and thighs. Finally he hugged her as tight as the position allowed. She returned the hug. Lying under Bob was always comforting, whether it was the shelter of that muscular body, the comfort of his evident love and regard for her, or the expectation of pleasure to come. There was both love and desire in her hug, but mostly there was possessiveness. When Bob broke the hug, he broke the kiss as well. He scattered a few quick kisses over her chin and throat, but he slowed down when he got to her near breast. He kissed a spiral path upward until he reached the peak. There, he tried to lick her areola without touching the nipple. Jeanette shivered and pulled his head down where it belonged. "Get your fill, dear," she said. "Rachel will have precedence soon enough." "I wouldn't get my fill if I stay here for the next seven months," he protested. "Samuel will have to learn to share." But he went back to sucking her nipple all the same. His hand, which had been holding her breast up to his mouth, strayed lower. She squeezed it between her thighs for a moment, before opening them in welcome. Bob would have denied under oath the mere possibility of petting his wife's vulva absentmindedly. This time, however, his attention was on her breast. While he licked, lipped, and sucked an elaborate pattern, his hand did what it had a thousand times before. Jeanette, too, was concentrating on the dear head that she still held. The welcome tension was a background heightening the pleasure from Bob's teasing attack on her nipple. Her climax took both of them by surprise. She let go of Bob's hair to grasp his wrist. She pulled his hand into the epicenter of her shuddering pleasure. Bob did his best to stroke her bud in time with her hips' motions. He sucked in time with her moans. God! but he loved her. His love was continual; his desire flared a dozen times a day ignited by random glimpses, sounds of her in another room, memories while away. The sensual ultimate, though, was to feel her ecstatically writhing under him in response to his loving ministrations. Jeanette held on to him as she soared and blazed in joy. This was her love, the man who brought her to this glorious point, the anchor who could be trusted to bring her back. Then she was back; and the glory was fading to a memory, a memory to be treasured. The hand which had clutched his hand to her now pushed it away. He abandoned her breast immediately. Dropping down beside her, he held her one shoulder and kissed the other while she panted in his arms. "Words cannot express how much I love you," he said. He tried anyway. "Darling, sweet; lovely, lovely, Jeanette. Oh, God, you are so wonderful." Held in his arms, lulled by his voice, she rebuilt herself slowly. He was reciting impossibilities, but she was too busy to refute them. Her breath and his spate of words slowed at the same time. "Beloved," he said, and hugged her across the shoulders so as not to interfere with her breathing. "Beloved," she responded. She turned her face toward his and they had a quiet kiss. He sprinkled her face with kisses when she needed to breathe again. Finally, he rested on one elbow. He was far enough above her that they could both focus their eyes. Love flowed between those eyes until she had to look away. "Are you ready to turn on your side?" She turned away in response. A minute later, he was resting his head on the inside of her right thigh, while her left leg was bent and turned to give him room. She turned a little more so she could look between her breasts to see his eyes. She reached back with her left hand, and he moved his right calf forward until she could hold it comfortably. He gave a ritual kiss to the bottom of her mons before spreading her lips and inserting his tongue. They had found this position just recently, and being able to watch her face change in response to his actions was still a fresh pleasure. First, however, he parted the outer lips to see the pink petals within. "Hello, Theodore," he called. While Jeanette giggled at the newly-old joke, he took his first taste. The taste seemed richer than in months past; and Bob wondered whether it was her recent orgasm, the pregnancy, or his overactive imagination. He forgot that question, however, the first time his tongue touched her clitoris. Her eyes closed and she gasped. It could have been a sign of agony, but experience told him that it was pleasure. He tasted the rest of her valley for a while, wanting to draw this out. Jeanette stared down her body at Bob's scowl of concentration while he gained access to her seat of pleasure. When he was satisfied, he looked up along her torso and into her eyes. Love glowed in his eyes, a love which ennobled the bodily thrills that his tongue began to deliver. She floated in sensation and security. Then the sensation took her away, and only her grip on his leg anchored her. Bob saw her expression change and orchestrated his actions to feed that response. When her head jerked back, he knew that the time was ripe. He fastened his lips onto the clitoral area and sucked while she spasmed and her legs clasped around him. She clawed at his calf, and her thighs closed around his ears. Then she relaxed. He gently kissed the point where the lips met. Then he had to extricate himself in order to return to a hugging position. Flame possessed Jeanette, and then warmth suffused her, and then she was cool except where Bob was hugging her. "Covers," she requested. Bob found the sheet and blanket, covered them both, and tucked the corners under her shoulder. He kissed her tenderly on the temple. "Now you see why I was so eager to conceive Ulrica," she said after a long, silent, cuddle. "I expect this royal treatment to continue." "You take care of Vernon, and I'll take care of you. Is there any other service that you want?" "Service? Now that is an idea...." Bob's laughter interfered with the kiss, but it didn't slow his climb between her legs. They paused for a moment while Jeanette adjusted the covers about his shoulders. That done, he kissed each of her breasts once. As he came forward, she guided him within. He pressed forward slowly but didn't stop until he was completely enclosed. He kissed her nose and eyebrows before taking up a slow, gentle rhythm. "I'm not made of glass, you know," Jeanette said. "Sea foam," he responded. She was quite wet from their foreplay, and he was enjoying the slow strokes in her slippery warmth. Compliment or no, Jeanette still wanted the passionate animal that her gentle scholar kept caged within himself; and she knew just how to unlock that cage. She scraped the nails of both hands down his back, lighter than a scratch, harder than a tickle. Then she cupped his buttocks and pulled him forward. He couldn't resist that. His strokes sped up as he hardened even more. "I can't...." he began. "Good," Jeanette responded. She deliberately tightened around him and pushed up to meet his stroke. Bob raised his torso above hers as his hips slammed his organ in and out. His scowl tightened into a fierce grimace as his pace quickened. There was continuous hot friction at her gateway. Then his groin ground against hers while he twisted and pulsed and spurted deep within her. His climax brought hers, short but sweet. She could still hear Bob's grunts when she dropped back into quiescence. Bob, almost always feeling desirous, seldom felt desired. Jeanette's simple "good" goaded his mind as much as her tightened clasp goaded his body. Carnality drove him in and out of her sweet slickness, then thrust him up into it, then shook him against it. He seemed to come forever. Then he was lying on Jeanette's softness, probably crushing her breasts. When he remembered the baby, he immediately rolled off. There was a stinging sensation on his seat. It felt like the aftermath of Jeanette's fingernails, but he hadn't noticed the actual attack. "Are you okay," he gasped out. "Lonely." He rolled against her side, but didn't have the energy for more until he got his breath back. This time, she got the tissues and turned off the lamp. "I didn't hurt you did I?" "I told you," she answered. "I'm not made of glass. You won't damage me, and you won't damage Wendy." "I want to be a gentle lover. 'She didn't require medical attention,' isn't quite the criterion. And a gentle parent. I'll save my roughhousing with Ximenes until he is big enough to fight back." "Jimenez?? Hee May Nayth, husband mine, is spelled with a J. Besides it is a last name." "That may be as that may be. However Hee May Naysss is spelled with an X. He was the bishop who brought the inquisition to Spain." He waited for a joke on the Spanish Inquisition, but Jeanette hadn't abandoned her challenge. "That's cheating. How can I ever tell poor Yttria that her daddy cheats?" "Yttria?" He came to a belated awareness that her belly was shaking under his hand. "Elementary, my dear Watson," she said. Her laughter was no longer silent. Two beats later, he joined in. He moved back from her. She turned sideways and followed him until they were snuggled together. He cuddled her belly for a minute before moving his hand to her breast. "I hope, Zebulon," he said, "that you inherit your mother's rare, earthy, sense of humor." Jeanette was sure that there was a joke inside the compliment. She was still trying to figure it out when she fell asleep. |
The End
"Forgiven"
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
1997/06/22
1997/10/26
2000/05/21
2002/11/08
2003/11/20
This is one of a series of stories about the
Brennans.
The next story in the series is:
"Foretold"
The first story in the series is:
"Forever"
The directory to the entire series is:
Brennan Stories Directory
For a much different story about a much
different couple involving a pregnancy, see:
"Igrayne"
The directory to all my stories can be found
at:
Index to Uther Pendragon's Website
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