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Little Swimmers
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, 2001, 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. I would prefer to do my own reposting, thank you. 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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Little Swimmers
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"To us two," she responded. "Next year, let it be us three." He drank to that. "You're sure now?" he asked. "Oh yes! I checked, and there is no problem." She hadn't said what the problem might be; and, despite his curiosity, he hadn't asked. The meal was delicious, but for once he found it easy to stop eating when she did. They even left wine in the bottle. She rinsed while he stacked the dishwasher. "We'll leave this for morning," she said. "We'll need the hot water." Once she'd stuffed her raven locks into a shower cap, they undressed each other. Once in the shower, Melissa made him turn his back so she could wash. She didn't object to his method for her, though. She came into his arms while he washed her back. She even lifted her face for his kiss while he rubbed both soapy hands from her shoulders to her hips. Her nipples pressed firmly into his chest, and -- when his erection got trapped between her legs -- she gently moved it to rest against her belly. When he broke the kiss to let her rinse off, she said, "You know, other people wash backs from in back." "Just how many people have you shared a shower with, anyway?" "Just you, and you know it. But that doesn't mean that I think other people do it your way." But she washed between his legs as carefully as he had washed between hers. The next kiss didn't involve any soap, and it lasted as long as the hot water did. The sudden chill broke them apart. They were laughing as they climbed out, and he lost most of his erection while they toweled each other off. In the bedroom, lit only by the hall light, she pulled the shower cap off. The cascade of black down her back was as sexy as ever. He pulled her to him, feeling her nipples between his fingers as he felt the hair against his chest. When his rising cock pressed against her thigh, she rolled her ass against it. He had to let go. Neatly, carefully, she folded the blanket down over the foot of the bed, folded it again and then a third time. The top sheet followed. She seemed unaware of him, unaware of her nakedness, absorbed in this minor domestic task. Her every move was efficient, the minimal motion to get that particular piece of cloth where it belonged. Yet her every move displayed her lithe beauty in the dim light. A breast displayed its fullness hanging down as she bent over. Briefly masked by a curtain of hair, it displayed its pertness after she straightened. It jiggled as she strode to the other corner of the bed. Her rump flexed as she reached for the sheet, tightened as she straightened with it. He glimpsed the hair on her mound as she turned towards him, the sparser hair on her lips as she leaned over with her back to him. All of this activity, a minute -- two at most -- was arranging a clear field for their action. She was preparing the space for her impregnation. By the time she climbed on the bed and rolled on her back, he was so hard it nearly hurt. He lay down beside her, and they kissed. His tongue thrust into her mouth, an imitation at one end of what he intended at the other. When she sucked on his tongue, he stroked between her legs. They opened, and he touched her labia. So far, he'd been speeding, reprising their earlier play. Having reached the point they'd reached in the shower, he slowed down. He wanted Melissa to have, so to speak, a boeuf Bourguignon of a sexual experience. So he kept to the outside of her nether lips for a while, returning to her thighs, cupping her mound. Meanwhile, he gave major attention to the kiss. When he broke that, it was to kiss her chin and jawline around to her ear. He sucked on her lobe, then blew across the ear. Melissa shivered. "You think I'm easy," she said. "Blow on my ear, and I'll let you have your way with me." "I thought you were having your way with me." "Well, you are easy." She grinned at him. "Au contraire, my dear," he said. "I'm definitely hard." When she reached down to check, he involuntarily thrust at her hand. "Be careful, love. You might be able to harden me again, but the sperm take much longer to produce." "Then why don't you just come in now? I'm ready." He knew she was ready, but she could get far readier. He wanted one of Melissa's force-six orgasms. "Plant those seeds!" "A sowing we will go," he sang. "A sowing we will go. Hi-ho a dario, a sowing we will go." She laughed, and her arousal dropped for a moment. He kissed her mouth again, just briefly. Then he kissed down to her breast. By the time he had kissed all the smoothness, she was as aroused as she'd been before his song. He licked the upthrust nipple before sucking it into his mouth. He parted her lower lips and stroked between them. He continued that stroking as he kissed across her cleavage and up to the other nipple. Resting on his elbow, he could move his left arm only on that pivot. That still allowed him to reach her ear. He began to rub the lobe between finger and thumb. She breathed more deeply. Her ear was not only attractive, but also responsive. Responsive in another way, as well. He raised off her breast to ask, "Do you know how lovely you are?" He licked at a nipple before continuing. "Face, sure. Lovely ebony hair, sure. But your ear is so cute." He traced the upper curve with one finger. "And your breasts." He stopped to kiss the underside of the near one. "Even through bra and blouse, everyone can guess their delightful, upthrust shape. I bet your male students have a hard time keeping their minds on English. But only I know..." He bent back down to give a long, sucking kiss to the nearest nipple. The smooth stiffness between his lips felt so good, her sigh sounded so accepting, that he bent further over to kiss the other one before he continued. "... the pert shape of the nipple on the end -- and the roughness of the pinkness around them." He licked her areola for a bit then, enjoying the tickle of the bumps on his tongue. He dragged his mouth off her to say, "They can see the sweet shape of your butt every time you write on the board. But only I know the sexiness of the front view: the mound and its fur..." He trailed his fingers through that wiriness. "... the lips below..." He tickled the outer ones and then parted them. "... the warmth between." He went back to sucking her nearer nipple, but his attention was all on is hand. He drew his middle finger up through her warm liquid, spreading it further up her valley. She stiffened in anticipation every time he approached the junction of her lips, but he stopped just short and returned. When he passed his finger over her clit, she gasped. He claimed that open mouth with his, then thrust his finger into her center. For minutes he explored one end with his tongue and the other with his finger. He circled his finger inside her entry, enjoying the stricture as he lessened it. She gasped when he first rubbed the bump on top of her tunnel. He left it to stretch her entryway another micron. He returned to raise her readiness another degree. Continuing the teasing below, he returned to her breasts for another feast. He sucked on a nipple while he withdrew his finger and returned it with a companion. Then he licked and lipped the bottoms of her breasts. Holding his right hand still, he kissed down to her navel. When he tongued that, she writhed, moving herself around his fingers instead of his moving the fingers inside her. She also laughed and relaxed from her height of arousal. When -- still laughing -- she pushed him away from that spot, he allowed himself to be moved downward. One kiss above her fur, one kiss at the corner of her pelvis, one kiss inside her thigh. Then he was there, kneeling between her legs and licking between her lips. She tensed when he tasted the bud where her lips met. His fingers returned to he bump. He slid them in and out, licking the bud every time his finger tips withdrew from the bump. "Greg." Her voice sounded strained. She reached down to grip his hair. He surrounded her clitoris with his mouth and sucked gently. At the same moment, he rubbed the bump on top of her tunnel more firmly. "Greg!" He let her pull him up her body, turning his hand as she did so. He stopped for a moment with his erection near his right hand. When he got it on the back of his two spread fingers, he followed that groove until it reached her warmth. With his tip just inside her, he shifted his hand up beside her shoulder. "I'm here," he said. After she raised her knees, he pressed forward. All her warmth surrounded him until he rested his mound on hers. The slide through her luscious interior had taken him near the edge. But she, having already been to the edge and back twice, would be ready for him. On his next withdrawal, he put his hand palm-down between their bodies. His thumb pressed the top of her lips while he thrust inward, pushing her clitoris closer to the friction of his rod. Three fingers pushed her abdomen just above her pubis while he withdrew slowly, assuring that her G-spot was in the path of the crown of his glans. His sensations, meanwhile, were exquisite. She was tight around him and yet soft. Where he rubbed against her, she was silky smooth. And then she was tighter yet, and gripping him. She was ready. He could let himself go. He drew out until only his tip was in her. As he trembled there, he could feel her inner lips against both sides of his crown. Then he abandoned all his restraint to drive himself forward until their hair mingled. Her gasp echoed his groan as he poured out into her. Then she was moaning softly in his ear and writhing under him and driving herself against him. She was clutching around him, milking the seed out. She seemed to continue forever, and then she shuddered and lay still. One last tremor squeezed him out. He extricated his hand and tried to support his own weight as they both lay gasping for breath. When a little strength returned, he kissed between her breasts and eased himself down her body. He kissed her beside her navel. "Swim, little swimmers," he started to sing. He was hoarse, and he had to clear his throat and start over.
"Swim little swimmers, inward, inward
Swim little swimmers, inward, inward
In there you should be gallopin'
Find the tubes we call fallopi'n
"Swim little swimmers, upward, upward
Swim little swimmers, upward, upward
Find the egg you seek above
Give us fruit for our love.
"Swim little swimmers, search throughout
Swim like a turned-on, hyped-up trout
Swim for one of her lovely ova.
For one to win, you all turn rover.
"In search of that ovum, you should zoom
Then snuggle together in her womb
When you're in her quim, it's time to swim
Swim, little swimmers, swim!"
He sang the he last two lines with more energy than he really could sustain just then. He decided to snuggle down right there. It was a lovely place, although Melissa's mound was a little hard under the side of his jaw, and her abdomen wasn't as soft and steady as he was entitled to expect. Indeed, it was bouncing up and down as if she were laughing or something. "Greg?" She wanted something. "Comfy." And he wasn't about to get it for her. "Come up here." He would in just a... "Minute," he said. "Come up here, and I'll tell you who I checked with to see if having a baby was safe." Well, he had wondered. On the other hand, everybody told you to stop and smell the flowers. Well, this was a delightful spot, and he could smell her flower from here -- essence of Melissa. But he knew this was a losing argument; she didn't like any mention of her aroma. He climbed off the end of the bed and removed the sheet from beneath her feet. When he'd flipped it over her, he joined her. "That's better," she said. "Some sort of doctor?" he asked. He hugged her as closely as her position lying on her back allowed. Usually, they'd be in a spoon by now, but this was probably best for tonight. "No. 'Least not medical. I went back to campus to talk to old Professor Dakin. Had him for Psych." "So did I." For that matter, they'd taken that class together. "He remembers you, Greg. And he told me that it was quite all right." "It?" "The baby. He said your kind of insanity was almost never hereditary." She snuggled against him in a way that was clearly her last move before sleep. |
The End Little Swimmers Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net 2001/07/07 2002/07/12 2002/11/10 2004/07/24 This was written as part of Pendragon's Second Challenge. More description of the challenge and a directory of my other entries may be found at: Pendragon's Second Challenge For another story about another couple and another conception: "Fish Tank" For the parody of another song, "Pink Molten Valley" This story is indexed in the subdirectory: wl, Wedded Lust The directory to all my stories can be found at: Index to Uther Pendragon's Website |