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From: John Jameson <j_jameson1780@my-deja.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Donna [6/7] {Jameson} (MFF Rom Oral)
Date: Sun, 6 Feb 2000 08:10:03 -0500
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Donna
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Copyright 2000, John Jameson. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction, and all characters and events are drawn from
the author's fevered imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living
or dead, is unintentional. If you think you recognize yourself here,
it's no doubt a matter of projection on your own part. (Unless, of
course, you happen to be female, are not offended by what you read, and
find middle-aged would-be authors of erotica irresistible. But we'll
save that discussion for some other time.)
Please do not reproduce this work in any form without the express
consent of the author. If you want to archive this story, you may
contact me at Jameson1780@altavista.com.
If you are offended by explicit depictions of human sexuality, you may
want to look elsewhere for entertainment (after consulting a competent
therapist). If it is illegal for you to read such materials due to
age, local laws, or other considerations (and you know who you are, so
let's not kid each other), then please go no further. Not that I can
stop you, but at least my conscience is clear now.
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Part Six -- New Beginnings
I was disoriented when I awoke, though I knew wherever I was, it was
warm and comfortable. The realization that there was a soft female
body snuggled up on either side of me caused the whole of the previous
night to flood back in on me just as Donna kissed my cheek and cuddled
closer.
"Good morning, love," she whispered. "Sleep well?"
I kissed her tenderly, those soft, warm lips bringing me fully awake,
before returning her whispered greeting and assuring her I'd slept like
a rock.
"Don't bother whispering," Barb muttered sleepily from the other side.
"I'm awake, too."
I felt the strange sensation of warm, firm breasts pressing into both
sides of my chest as the two women hugged each other and me, but tried
to ignore it just as I tried to ignore my morning erection. The sound
of sleet striking the window discouraged any of us from wanting to get
out of the warm bed too soon, but a full bladder and the women's
insistence that I should feed the baked fire in the stove made it plain
I was going to have to get up soon. I tried concentrating on the image
of the icy sleet outside in an attempt to rid myself of my erection
before complying, but the feel of their nearly naked bodies on either
side of me wasn't helping a bit. Donna reaching down and tracing my
hard cock with her fingertips through my briefs only made it less
likely to go away.
"I don't think he wants you to know he's got a hard-on," she told Barb
in a stage whisper, then laughed.
"Oh shit!" Barb giggled. "Like I've never felt it poking against my
butt when we woke up on the couch." Both of them were taking obvious
delight in my embarrassment.
"You have to admit that was just a little bit different," I tried to
protest, but they cut me off.
"We won't make fun of you," Donna assured me, "but you'd better get
that fire going if you expect either of us to get out of this warm bed
today."
Aside from a muffled giggle or two, they were true to their word as I
slipped from the bed with my erection tenting the front of my briefs.
I fed some wood into the stove and retreated across the hall for our
jeans before looking for an unoccupied bathroom. On my way back, I
detoured downstairs and brought back three large mugs of coffee, but
they insisted I lose the jeans before they'd let me back under the warm
blankets. While we waited for the stove to do its thing, we sipped our
coffee, and I gradually accepted that my lover and my friend were in
some sort of conspiracy and all I could do was go along with events.
All too soon, Donny was knocking at the door and calling us downstairs
for breakfast; then it was another day of cleaning and fixup on the old
place. We worked until nearly dark with just a quick break when
someone delivered McDonald's burgers for lunch. By late Sunday
afternoon, the old place was looking pretty good considering most of
the furnishings were either castoffs or Salvation Army specials. It
was a tired but contented group that flopped down in the living room of
the old house just off campus that served as the new offices of the
counseling center. Before everyone dispersed to their own apartments
and dorms, we devoured a sizable stack of pizzas, shared a few bottles
of cheap red wine, and Donna and I endured at least six retellings of
the Saga of the Broken Bed Frame. I walked Donna and Barb back to
their dorm and got my customary big parting hug from Barb; then it was
time to say good night to my darling.
"I hope you weren't too embarrassed about Barb," Donna whispered with a
smile. "She's been so sweet to me through this whole thing that I
couldn't deny her a chance to share in the glow afterward." She
wrapped her arms around my neck and melted against my body as we kissed
tenderly, the hunger we'd felt still there but tempered now with the
satisfaction of having finally satisfied our desire--at least for the
moment.
"You forget that Barb is my buddy, too," I grinned back at her as I
hugged her tightly. "At least she waited until we were done before she
decided to join us." With a long final hug we parted for the night,
knowing that this was just the first chapter in a new phase of our
relationship.
Over the next few weeks we fell into a new routine, studying together
during the week and still necking passionately most nights before we
parted, but we were much more relaxed now, secure in the knowledge that
the weekends would be ours to share. On Friday nights we'd hitch a
ride with whoever was heading out to the farmhouse and retire early to
the (now reinforced) bed in what had become "our" room, where we'd make
love until we dropped into an exhausted sleep.
Saturdays were for working on the house and the grounds, fashioning the
old place into a retreat center, which was all the more impressive in
that it was funded almost entirely from the pockets of a bunch of
college students. Saturday nights, people would take turns cooking,
and everyone in residence would sit up late, talking about what had
happened during the preceding week at the center, politics, music--the
usual bull sessions that most college students seem to thrive upon.
Again, Donna and I would slip off to our own little sanctuary and share
our bodies, our fantasies, and our love until sleep took us away. Most
Sundays we were awakened early by Barb sliding into our bed with coffee
for three, and the three of us would cuddle and talk until breakfast
time. Then it was back to work and back to town to start another week.
--
New story "Donna" is posted to my Web site
----
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/John_Jameson/www
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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