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Subject: {ASSM} ME AND MARTHA JANE '99 (m/FF,teen) MJANE12.TXT
Date: Wed, 9 Feb 2000 00:10:06 -0500
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SJR
<1st attachment, "MJANE12.TXT" begin>
**** WARNING **** WARNING **** WARNING ****
THIS DOCUMENT IS A SEXUALLY GRAPHIC STORY ABOUT AN INTENSE SEXUAL,
EMOTIONAL AND INTELLECTUAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN A TEENAGE GIRL AND
A YOUNG BOY AND THE COURSE OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP OVER A PERIOD OF
10 YEARS. IT IS A DRAMATIZATION ABOUT REAL PEOPLE AND THEIR CON-
FLICT WITH SOCIAL EXPECTATIONS. IF THIS SUBJECTS OFFENDS YOU OR IF
SEXUAL LANGUAGE UPSETS YOU, OR IF YOU DON'T WANT THIS MATERIAL SEEN
BY UNDER-18 OR OTHERWISE UNQUALIFIED PERSONS, DELETE THIS DOCUMENT.
THIS DOCUMENT IS COPYRIGHTED 1994, 1999 BY SJR. SO--HEY, YOU CAN
COPY IT BUT YOU CAN'T CHANGE IT OR SELL IT UNLESS I SAY SO.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ADVENTURES OF ME AND MARTHA JANE
by S.J.R.
PART 12A:
Some events are like dreams. Their cause, their meaning, their
place in one's history remain forever unexplained. They occur once in
time, surprising us sometimes, but always making a mockery of our
expectations. In memory they are recurring, timeless, with vague
borders and an always jumbled, inexact sequence. In the aftermath all
one can say is that they occurred, and defiant memory recalls only the
pieces, never their source or their reason.
In the yellow-white sun Martha and Ronnie slipped into their swim-
suits and I pulled on my shorts. We strolled through a small forest
to a nearby village. We drank iced tea with lime and munched chicken
salad sandwiches. Ronnie and Martha chatted and debated and I gawked
at the parade of Fire Islanders drifting from the city and lounging
about the pier. The teenagers passed by, the freaks in their outland-
ish costumes and body markings passed by, and so did the New Jersey
families and the Manhattan executives and the yacht owners and working
girls and average guys. In my mind, while the rest of the world
churned around us, I had the sense that the three of us -- hair-
bleached me, sunny faced Martha, dark eyed Ronnie -- were somehow an
insular, absolute group of our own. Looking back on the whole day, we
seemed to be moving in a different direction from everyone else, at a
different pace.
After a long lunch we strolled across a wide, open plain of sand
dune and low brush, and then through yet another secluded wood, and
then to yet another village, speaking among ourselves while no one
spoke to us, no one deflected our conversation or our thoughts.
Martha and Ronnie gabbed away, I gaped away, and the rest of the world
left us to our business. We watched the beginning of the sunset in
the early evening, boarding the ferry just as the sun painted the
world red and sank into a black sea, and during the ferry ride we
watched the day end. The stars came out. Distant lights on shore
glowed languidly. This magical scene from the ferry at sea lent an
air of fantasy to the day's end and the night's beginning. The ferry
docked at a pier lit like a Disney movie with thousands of small
colored light bulbs strung along our path to the taxi area, where we
piled into a car that barely made it in time to the train station.
Then we were on a half empty train going in the opposite direction
from everyone else, headed for Manhattan.
On the train I sat in a seat facing Martha and Ronnie. Martha
bargained with Ronnie for the space by the window, and Ronnie finally
gave up, sitting in the aisle position at a diagonal to my spot at the
window, teasing me, "Well, I'll take the aisle seat so I won't be
sitting directly across from Steven. He'll think I'm staring at him
on purpose." All the way into Manhattan I gazed out the window at
mile after mile of sprawling suburb. It reminded me of the dreaded
Memphis to which I'd be forced to return in what seemed a short,
inadequate time. The landscape didn't change until we approached
Queens, which began to look more like a big city. Along the way, the
two women chatted on and on, constantly changing the subject, some-
times arguing mildly. But it was clear from their manner that they
were good, close friends. And I wondered what it would be like to
have such a friend, male or female; and then it occurred to me that
even with Martha I wasn't that open, wasn't that trusting. To what
friend would I give myself so freely? And I was thinking about that
when I turned to see the two women talking more confidentially, their
voices almost a whisper too low to be heard over the steady roll and
clack of wheels. As I watched and listened to try to pick up what
they were saying, Ronnie eyed me from the corners of her dark blue
eyes and teased me, "We're talking about you," and I asked, "Could any
of it possibly be bad?" and she stuck out her chin at me and pursed
her lips and said, "Juicy!" I blushed and Ronnie said, "Martha. he's
blushing again," and Martha said, "Oh, he always does that," and
Ronnie gave me a pat on the knee and said seriously, "It's all good.
Really. All the trouble you used to get into in Memphis." I gazed
back out the window and thought: Memphis, why the hell do I have to
go back to Memphis?
They continued, both looking progressively more serious and
absorbed, each listening carefully to the other. They frowned now and
then, or nodded seriously, so I figured they had roamed into another,
more important subject. Now and then they glanced at me as they
talked and gestured, and Ronnie or Martha would give me a fleeting,
affectionate smile. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I
knew I was envious of their easy rapport. Then they stopped talking
and I drifted off to sleep for a short interlude. When I opened my
eyes I saw Martha leaning on the window, napping placidly, and Ronnie
was reading a copy of the New York Times Fashion Supplement magazine.
I thought to myself that I was glad at least that I was with these two
reasonable, giving women who were so much unlike my frightful, hyster-
ical aunts. Martha looked so innocent and delicious I wanted to hug
her and then lick her in gratitude for simply being who she was and
tolerating my presence in her little pad.
And Ronnie -- well, I hadn't sorted my feelings for her. It was
true, though, and odd, that when I first met her I didn't think of her
as being particularly enticing. Yet there was something about her
that grew on me, something offbeat in those eyes, something enticing
in her long legs and arms that I hadn't seen when I first met her.
But her eyes: they were not as striking as Martha's, but in time I
found them compelling, replete with subtle, hidden messages. Her
voice and manner were easy, even lax at times, but her eyes always
seemed to carry on a more active, intimate conversation. Did I see
something seductive there? Or was I just reading it in, the more she
grew on me? And just as I was watching her and thinking about her she
glanced up from her reading and her eyes found mine, and her eyelids
lowered bashfully and she smiled accusingly and said, "I saw you," and
she returned to her magazine, and I said after a yawn, "Saw me what?"
She said, drawing a circle around something in the magazine, "Staring
at me." I didn't say anything, her playful tone seeming like little
more than the usual, innocuous banter, and after a moment she turned a
page and with her eyes still on the magazine she said, "That's okay.
I was staring at you, too. While you were asleep." She kept reading
and looking, circling and marking, ignoring me, and I said, "I didn't
talk in my sleep or do anything atrocious, did I?" and she said in a
ho-hum tone, still not looking up, "No, I was just looking. Just
looking," and I asked, "At what?" She paused and looked up at me and
said, teasing, "At you." And she was quiet for a moment as she looked
at me and there was that mystery in her eyes, that direct but gently
probing look, and then she said cryptically, "You're different, that's
all."
Then she went back to her magazine and I watched her for a moment.
Then Martha stirred in her sleep and turned onto her side a little
more toward the window, and her angel lips and pug nose looked girl-
lish, seeming nothing like she looked when we had sex. I began to
wonder about Ronnie's words, hearing her say You're Different several
times in my head, and somehow the words stayed in my head and the dark
eyes persisted, and her eyes had seemed to say more than her words
said. She stopped her reading and got a cigarette from her bag on her
lap and lit up and began reading again, all without so much as looking
up, and I thought about the feel of Martha under me and the feel of
her flesh deep inside her and then, strangely, I wondered what Ronnie
saw in me and I realized that I felt she would never get close to me
again if she knew I was more than a playful young boy. The thing
that would keep me from being with people like Ronnie was my being
Different. As the train skimmed along the rails I wondered: How had I
arrived here with these two, among all the millions of people in two
cities and hundreds of relatives, how was it that there were only
these two women, only two, whose minds and chemistry and words were
combinable with mine? Yet being naked with them had shut doors rather
than open them, had revealed the locks and shackles on the doors
leading in and out of me.
When I looked at them a little later Martha was awake, leaning on
her arm against the window and gazing at me with a mild frown. I
asked her, "What's the matter?" and she answered, "You're thinking
again." I just looked at her and wondered how she knew, and Ronnie
glanced up at me from her magazine and then back down again, and I
knew I wouldn't talk to Martha about it, so I gazed back out the
window and said nothing. In my silence I heard Ronnie saying "You're
Different." And I wanted to get closer to both of them, get my mind
into them and merge my soul with both of them, and I didn't want being
Different to keep me from either of them anymore.
That need made me feel lonely. The kid from Memphis felt
compelled to defend against all need. I needed to be careful that I
never threaten Martha by extracting promises and plans from her, and
I must never threaten Ronnie's friendship with desire for her, must
never let them know that my hard cock on the beach wanted to merge
with them, with both of them, to plunge through and burst open the
limits of my age and my narrow life in Memphis and the limits of
relationship itself. As the train approached Manhattan I closed
myself off again, fearing everything, knowing that my fear of being
seen naked by these two was akin to being emotionally naked as well,
my every fault and weakness exposed.
For the rest of the trip to Manhattan, from Jamaica through Kew
Gardens and Forest Hills and then Rego Park, I said nothing. Fire
Island receded farther away, far behind the growing congestion of
Queens as we neared Manhattan. Through Woodhaven and Sunnyside and
Woodside and crowded Long Island City, I didn't look at either of
them. Once I closed my shell around me, the events and details of
the day no longer made sense, no longer had purpose, and were all a
formless jumble. I was not on a train on a planned route, I was a
stranger in a maze and everything was random. In the maze I was
somehow only loosely connected with passionate Martha and enigmatic
Ronnie; I didn't know what the rules were, or why we were there, or
why they stayed with me, or what they wanted. The whole day, the
whole city, the whole world had seemed bizarre from the moment I
opened my eyes that morning.
We decided to walk home from Penn Station, the three of us joined
as Martha grabbed my hand and pulled me between her and Ronnie, and
then Ronnie took my hand as well. All three of us strolled and looked
in the same windows together, and commented on the same sights
together, and we were all tired together from the trip, and all three
of us trudged upstairs to Martha's place. We made berry tea and sat
on the floor on the rug in front of the sofa. We talked and drank tea
and ate cheese and crackers. It was Ronnie who suggested the lights
were too bright, so she turned off all but the small table lamp, and
all three of us continued as before. Then it was Martha who lit the
first cigarette and Ronnie followed, and she gave me a cigarette.
Ronnie watched me light up and said guiltily, "Martha, you and I do
not qualify for jobs as ideal role models for Steven." Martha said,
"Well, I know he smokes anyway. I prefer that he didn't sneak around
to do it. We already learn too many sneaky tricks in our society."
Ronnie kidded her, "Now we know why you're not the head of the Special
Education Project."
The room was getting smoky in the still July air, so Martha told
me to open the window a little wider and I placed the small Hunter fan
on the sill and turned on the big window fan in the kitchen window.
Ronnie was too uncomfortable with her swimsuit under her clothes, so
she removed her jeans and shirt. Martha followed suit, and I got down
to my cutoffs, and Martha said, exhaling a stream of smoke into the
room, that we were all getting to be smoke fiends. Ronnie talked
about Michigan and bad parents. Martha lit two candles, one on each
side of the room, and she turned off the table lamp. "Nice, Martha!"
Ronnie cooed, as the candle glow draped an almost palpable cocoon of
dim, lazily flickering light around us. Martha sat in the middle of
the circle we made around the small rug on the floor where we placed
the tea and the cheese, and the women rested on their sides in their
swimsuits.
Ronnie told Martha, "You haven't burned candles in a long time."
Martha said, "No, not since our all nighter. When was it? Months
ago, I guess."
"Yeah, right after gorgeous George," Ronnie lamented. "How did I
ever end up with him? Steven, you'd love this guy. Testosterone
city. Talk about nuclear overkill."
Martha gave a muffled laugh as she spread cheese on a cracker.
"You keep dating the same guy over and over, Ronnie. Only the names
change."
"They're all alike anyway, aren't they? I mean, the whole idea is
to get, right? It's getting. Giving has nothing to do with it."
Martha protested, "No!"
"Sure it is. Steven, you're a guy, right? You know other guys,
right? It's biology, isn't it? Getting sex is the whole idea."
I thought that might be a trick question. I said, "You mean you
just want non-physical relationships?"
Ronnie said, "Oh, no, no, I'm talking about relationships that
happen to involve sex. That's the whole idea as a guy sees it: How
much they can get?"
I shook my head no. "I don't know about other guys, but the whole
idea is to give your partner the same as you get. More, if neces-
sary."
Martha smiled and nodded.
Ronnie said, "Well, okay. So you're different."
Martha said, "Steven's different."
Ronnie leaned toward Martha and said, "Martha, my god, talk about
giving, his back rub was something else. Steven, you oughtta start
your own business. I never felt such hands. Are your hands always
that warm?"
Martha grinned, lying face down, her eyes secretly teasing me.
"They're not just warm, they're intuitive."
"Lemme see," Ronnie said, reaching for my left hand. "Gimme your
hand. Martha, I can't believe this, feel how warm this guy is! You
have fever, sweetheart? C'mere. God, his arms are warm, too." She
gave me a small laugh. "Must be that hot Italian blood."
I blushed and said, "Well, I don't know about hot-blooded. Warm-
hearted, maybe." I pulled my hand away to get another cracker.
"Aww," Ronnie said, "look at him blush. Aww, look."
Martha said, "Ronnie, you already embarrassed him once today."
"Really? Steven, was it really that bad? I'm sorry. I thought
it was pretty funny, myself. And perfectly natural."
Martha said, "Ronnie, there's a difference between hot-blooded and
warmhearted. They don't necessarily go together."
"Ain't that the truth!" Ronnie said. "I've had some very hot-
blooded, cold-hearted experiences."
"You deserve better, Ron," Martha said.
"Steven," Ronnie said, taking a puff and tilting a finger toward
me, "I like your attitude. Martha, why can't I find somebody with an
attitude like his?"
Martha sighed and said, "Because you grew up with a lot of ag-
gressive people who didn't like you and you're still trying to -- "
"I know, I know," Ronnie said, ruffled. "Martha, I told you not
to start that again or I'd wash your mouth with soap."
Martha gave her a small, pestering smile.
Ronnie said petulantly, crushing out her cigarette in the ashtray
on the floor at her side, "Why can't I find somebody nice? I always
seem to have the same problem."
Martha said, biting a cracker, "So does Steven. Anyway, Steven
has his own problems. He's too shy."
Ronnie said, "Shy? So what, everybody's shy. My problem is, I
always end up with these very un-shy heavyweights who come on like
gangbusters, sweet talking and smooth, and they turn out to be thugs
who just...get some kinda kick out of tormenting people."
Martha said, mildly reproving, "Maybe you don't pay that much
attention to people who are good to you. It's easy to take them for
granted, because they don't usually come on that strong."
"I pay attention to you, don't I? And you're nice to me."
"Maybe you have a problem accepting niceness in men, not in
women."
"Steven's nice, isn't he? I like Steven. And you have trouble
finding nice people, too, Martha. But you're so picky."
"I was spoiled early," Martha said. "My first lover was...very,
very good to me."
I bristled at Martha's words, turning my eyes to the ceiling. She
smiled at me furtively.
"Steven," Ronnie said, reaching for a cracker, "I bet you don't
have any problem finding somebody who's nice to you."
I said, "Sure I do."
"Really? But you're so interesting and sensitive." She beamed at
me playfully. "Great with a bottle of Coppertone." She narrowed her
eyes skeptically. "I can't believe you have a problem finding
someone."
I said, "Only happened once. So far."
Ronnie didn't say anything right away. She frowned, pondering,
and absently spread cheese on a cracker. "What's it like," she asked
wistfully, "to be with someone who's really good to you?"
I said, "Wonderful." I stuffed a cracker into my mouth.
"No, Steven, I mean, seriously, what's it like? How does it
happen? How do you make it happen?" Ronnie bit the last of a cracker
and rubbed her hands together, shaking off crumbs. "And then there are
those who'd like to give, but are too scared."
Martha interjected, "You don't 'make' it happen, Ronnie. It just
happens. And not that often."
I said, "You can't make somebody be good to you if they don't want
to. I've been raised by people who weren't very nice to me. Not nice
in the way one needs, I mean. Relatives bought me things. My parents
gave me a place to live. But I wouldn't say they were nice to me.
And it's not something you 'do' to somebody else. It's mutual; it's
not something you do, it's something that's done by two people."
"Mutual," Ronnie mused slowly. "Mutual. No, I never had that."
She looked down at the cracker in her hand and murmured, a bitter edge
to her voice, "That's something I sure as hell didn't have much ex-
perience with in Michigan. Or New York, either."
There was brief silence in the little room. Martha rose on her
arms and stood up quickly. "Are we finished with this cheese and
stuff?"
"Yeah, I'm stuffed," Ronnie said, popping one more cracker into
her mouth. "Come on, get it away from me. Look at me...I can't even
stop eating long enough to talk. I'll never leave it alone while it's
right in front of me."
Martha gathered the leftovers. "Come on, Steven, help me get this
into the kitchen."
In the kitchen as she re-wrapped the cheese and I helped her put
things away, she whispered, "Steven, I have to get her off this sub-
ject. Don't let her get into her 'mood'." She glanced at me. "Do
you like her?"
"Sure," I said.
"I mean...as a friend. Really. I don't just mean 'like', I mean
are you...emotionally comfortable with her? You know? A real
friend."
I whispered reassuringly, "I feel very comfortable with her. No
pressure at all, if that's what you mean. Not like people I know in
Memphis. And she's -- you know, nice to look at."
"Yes," Martha said absently as she arranged things in the little
refrigerator. "Yes, she's very nice to look at. She just doesn't
think so. She has the same problem you have."
When we finished, Martha stopped me with a hand on my arm and
whispered, "Wait." In the center of the kitchen she paused and
reached up to pull the string that turned off the kitchen light. In
the near-dark, lighted only by a spill of candlelight from the living
room, she waited, a distant look in her eye, as if some daunting
thought had crept over her.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
Her eyes examined mine briefly, and she glanced toward the living
room, and she said, "Oh, nothing. C'mon."
We returned to the living room and formed the same circle as be-
fore. Ronnie lit another cigarette, looking somber as she sat on the
floor opposite Martha and me, with her back against the foot of the
sofa.
Martha sat back on her ankles and pulled bobby pins from her hair.
"Wasn't it nice on the beach today?" she said. "Steven's never seen
the ocean before. And never a nude beach. There's nothing like that
where we came from."
Ronnie said she couldn't live without the freedom to lie nude in
the sun now and then. The winters, she said, were too long in New
York and the summers too short, and life in general was too restrict-
ive not to be able to be free and unencumbered in the sun and wind.
Martha said that the first time she and Ronnie discovered the nude
area they were both squeamish about undressing, making silly jokes and
giggling the first time they did it. Ronnie asked me again if I had
been embarrassed and I blushed and said no, but Ronnie ribbed me
gently about it and quipped, "Well, you *did* seem to be hiding
*something*," and Martha joked that I had "a lot" to be embarrassed
about. Ronnie laughed at that play on words but seemed mildly shocked
and asked, "Yeah? Well, you should know." Martha smiled enigmatic-
ally, and they both glanced at each other as if secretly chiding, and
Martha said, "All right, Ron." Ronnie looked at her and then at me, and
Ronnie scoffed and said Martha was assuming too much from old evidence.
We sat quietly for a while, gazing at the candles. In the brief
silence I wondered, again, how much Martha had told her.
Martha said, "Candlelight is so nice, isn't it?" I gave a brief
soliloquy on candlelight as natural, and said that for centuries man-
kind saw something spiritual in candlelight and, even after electri-
city was invented, fire was still used in ceremony and pageantry.
Ronnie thought about it and said she saw something very spiritual in
candlelight, too, that it was a constant motif in art and was heavily
of spirituality and intelligence, and it struck her as being very
erotic, but quietly so. Martha got up and went into the bedroom.
After she had been in there for a couple of minutes, Ronnie called from
the living room, "Hey, Martha, why are you frittering around in there?"
Martha returned in her bathrobe carrying a pile of bath towels. She
walked past us toward the kitchen, saying, "I'm taking a quick shower
to get the sand and sweat off, Ron, and then we'd better get a little
lotion on us. We got so much sun today." She dropped the towels on
the floor near the shower and called into the room, "I have towels
here for all of us, Ronnie. You too, Steven." She let her bathrobe
fall to the floor as she slipped into the stall.
Ronnie sat up Indian-style in her swimsuit and puffed on the ciga-
rette and knocked the ashes off in her ashtray. She smiled at me and
said, "You must think you've landed on another planet since you came
here." I shrugged, and she said, "You're still blushing. When are
you finally going to get comfortable around us?
I blushed again, of course, and said, "Well, I have a couple of
months."
"Oh, I hope it doesn't take that long."
While Martha showered, Ronnie told me that she and Martha were
diehard nature lovers. Ronnie said she felt that city living removed
people from their normal relationship with nature, and this led to an
unnatural relationship with one's body, and then with one's mind, and
"the whole thing gets to be a mess. All you have to do is stand out
on the street and look around to see that."
We talked about Central Park, where most people in Manhattan
retreated to the "real earth." She said she often went out on Sunday
mornings with the Audubon Society's bird watchers. She laughed at
that and said, "I know it doesn't sound all that exciting at first,
but maybe we could go with Martha and me sometime, if we can get her
up that early on Sunday morning. Or maybe--" She stopped and drew on
her cigarette and her voice trailed off, so I asked her, "Maybe what?"
She smiled guardedly and shrugged and said, "Well, I started to say,
maybe you and I could do that this Sunday. Or next Sunday, or--you
know, something like that. I mean, a lot of people wouldn't be
exactly overwhelmed at the idea, you know, but..." She shrugged again
and said, "Whatever."
I said, "Now who's shy?"
She smiled wryly, crushing out her cigarette and reaching for
another one, and said, "Okay. Right."
I gathered my courage and told her, "Actually, I'd love that. If
it's okay with you."
She said brightly, "Sure!"
I searched for something to say, and she just looked at me,
lighting a new cigarette, and then she moved onto her side and rum-
maged through one of the beach bags near her. I watched her, aware of
both my fascination with her and my vague fear of her. And then she
straightened up and looked at me and there it was again, that humid
glow in her dark pupils, and I turned away quickly so she wouldn't
know I'd been staring.
She said, "Sorry. I was looking for something. Guess I left it
at my place." Her eyes stayed on me, the way I noticed they sometimes
did, playfully questioning, and she asked, "You really keep yourself
up, don't you?"
I looked down at myself, sitting indian-style in my t-shirt and
shorts, wondering what she meant -- after all, I'd had only a few
weeks with Fiore and I didn't look like a Roman gladiator.
She said quickly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean 'keep yourself up',
literally, I mean--oh god...," and she grit her teeth in chagrin and
covered her face with one hand and laughed, and said, "That's *not*
what I meant!" She relaxed, her eyes settling on mine again, and she
said, "Oh, you know what I meant."
I said, yes, I knew what she really meant, and I told her, "No, I
don't have Fiore back home. Just hard work, I guess."
"Did I really embarrass you out on the island?"
I blushed (again!) and nervously toyed with my cigarette in the
ashtray in front of me and admitted, "Yeah, a little."
She gave me that chummy smile of hers and said, "You'll get over
that."
I murmured, "Yeah, one of these days,"
She said, "You will. It'll be a lot easier while you're here.
Martha and I don't live and think like most people, in many respects."
She looked down, blowing a slow gray stream of smoke, and she said
with a mysteriously, slightly angry edge in her voice, "We don't care
for being shamed into obedience. I have no idea why society thinks
shame is so great. You can't even have a good day at the beach
without --" She stopped and smiled at me and said offhandedly, "Don't
mind me. I'm crazy."
I said, fishing for something to say, "Well, uh, you're an artist.
All artists are crazy, aren't they?"
She nodded and said, "You have no idea." She blew smoke slowly.
She said, "You're an artist too, right? Theater? Different art,
but...same craziness." I nodded in agreement, and she said, "Well,
Martha and I were hoping that taking you to the beach with us would be
a very, uh, un-Memphis experience. But now I feel bad about it, I
didn't want you to be, y'know...traumatized." I said, "Well, no it
wasn't anything like that," and then she asked, rather directly,
almost taunting, "So what were you so scared of?"
I thought for a moment, and said, smirking, "Unfair question."
Her eyebrows rose in good humored surprise and she said, "Really?
I don't know, it didn't seem so unfair. Difficult, maybe." She
watched me, not intimidating but waiting. I just shrugged, dawdling
with the ash tray, and she retorted with a teasing smile, "Unfair
answer."
I said sheepishly, "Ah, you know, sometimes it's a little hard..."
She asked, "Hard? Why is it so hard?" And she caught herself
again, grinning and hiding her eyes with one hand. She said, "Oh,
god...There I go again. I'm sorry, Steven, really," and I asked, "I
don't get it, what did you say?" and she answered after a tired sigh,
"I said 'why is it so hard?' and then I just couldn't help myself,"
and we both laughed about that. She wagged her head contritely and
joked, "I oughtta just shut up."
"Well, I knew what you really meant,"
She said, "Yeah, but do *I* know what I really meant?" She
sighed and relaxed and said, "Well, what I really meant, I guess, is
that you don't have to be so fearful around us. I'm a nice person,
really. I only cross on green lights. I'm kind to animals. I'm just
trying to say that you shouldn't feel that it's so...difficult...to
just, you know, be who you are. You know?" Her eyes and voice both
dropped a little and she said cynically, "People are so conditioned,
they think they'll be, uh, found out or something. They don't say
what they mean, they just throw up a phony wall of information. You
know what I mean? I know how that is, I'm that way sometimes, but...I
guess they think they're making it safer and easier, but..." and there
were those eyes again, her eyes and her face growing more serious, and
she concluded pointedly, "...but that can make it kinda tough for the
other side."
I said, "Maybe they just don't know their way around. Yet."
She nudged her head thoughtfully and admitted, "Yeah. That's a
point."
I looked at her and asked, "Did you think I wasn't saying what I
meant?"
She puffed on her cigarette and blew out and said, "You talk,
but you say something else with your eyes."
I thought about that, and I said, leading her, "So do you."
She looked surprised again and said, "Really?" I nodded, and she
said, blushing, "I didn't know that."
"Yeah. You do."
She held up her hands palms up and shrugged and said, "I don't
know, I always just thought of myself as being kind of, you know...
*loose*. I mean, people tell me I'm kinda loose, and I just --" Then
she squinted and shook her head and said, "Oh, god, now I'm loose!"
She laughed and said dryly, "There's nothing like telling a guy I'm
*loose*. Oh, let's just have a moment of silent prayer. For
Veronica, Loose Woman of the North," and we laughed again. When she
settled down again, she said quietly, "You know, you can be a lot of
fun."
I said, "Yeah? Oh. Thanks."
She said more quietly, "But that can make it more difficult to
figure you out sometimes." She puffed again and said, "But you're a
good sport about today."
Silence followed, during which I didn't have the slightest idea
what to say, and I caught her looking at me again, and she said, "Hmm.
You really do talk with your eyes, don't you?"
I asked, flirting, "So what are they saying?"
She smiled coyly, not responding for a few seconds, and then she
said, "Well, every place we go, and every time you sit talking with
us, you talk little but your eyes just seem to see everything.
They're so active, soaking everything in. But right now, looking at
you, you say one thing but your eyes do something else. You're doing
it now; you answer, but your eyes are saying...I don't know, exactly.
I think they say you're wondering if I'm real. What I really think.
And feel. And maybe...scared."
What I felt at her tone and her words was more than a blush; it
was a loud wind in my brain and a feeling of being exposed. I
suspected she was telling me in her oblique way that the time for
pretentious chit-chat was over. This was no inexpert teenager before
me; this was a sharp, knowledgeable young woman who, like Martha,
wasn't going to let me hide from her. I knew I was going to have to
relate on a more substantial level.
She puffed on her cigarette and asked, "So if I talk with my
eyes, what do you think they say?"
I looked right back and her and answered, "The same thing."
She looked down at her ash tray and grinned, her teeth showing,
and said, "Martha warned me that you often see more than we know. I'm
so glad you're not insensitive, Steven." She crushed out her ciga-
rette and said, "Does knowing that we have the same questions make you
feel better?"
I said, "Yeah, it does."
She whispered, "Me, too." She leaned against the foot of the sofa
behind her and closed her eyes. She said, "Then maybe I can say
something I really mean, if only I knew just how to say it." She
didn't continue, so I said, "Okay. Try me." She took a breath and
kept her eyes down, fiddling with the ashtray, and said, "Martha said
you two had a rough time growing up. That can make you old fast.
Mainly, it makes you different. I know. Maybe...maybe us folks who
are so different should stick closer together. You know? Not be so
scared of each other."
The growing intimacy of our conversation was interrupted by
Martha's exit from the shower. She quickly dried off and donned her
bathrobe and entered the living room drying her hair and said, "Okay,
Steven. All yours." I got up and said, "Excuse me," and Ronnie
laughed and said, "You don't have to be so polite, you're with
family." I went to the kitchen and paused at the shower before
starting to undress, peeking back to see if they were watching. But
both women were talking, oblivious to me. I undressed and stepped
into the shower. I made it quick, dropping the soap several times and
feeling a little disoriented, realizing that Ronnie's words and manner
had affected me. I felt suspended between my younger world, where I
was treated like a child with no interests expected of me other than
schoolwork and sports, and an older world in which I had little
experience and no road map. I wondered if I were up to all the
growing up Martha expected of me in New York.
I turned the water off and stuck my arm out of the shower and
plucked a towel off the floor and dried off inside the stall. I
considered that trying to dress in the narrow stall would be a little
ridiculous. Then I peered out the shower curtain. They were in the
living room talking. Martha sat up on her legs on the floor in her
previous spot in the middle of the room. She had let the robe slip
off her shoulders and, bare from the waist up, she rubbed lotion on
her face and neck. Ronnie looked up at me and said, "C'mon, we always
lotion up when we get back from the beach. If you don't, you'll lose
your tan and peel like a crab." Martha frowned at her and said, "I
didn't know crabs peeled." Ronnie said, "Well, whatever they do.
Molt, or whatever."
I stepped from the shower, dressing quickly, expecting them to
look my way. But they didn't. In my shorts again, I entered the
living room and sat where I had been earlier, beside Martha. They
stopped talking and Ronnie looked at me, a little surprised, and she
looked back at Martha and they both grinned, and Martha chided me,
"Steven, what are we gonna do with you?" I asked, sitting next to
her, "Do? About what?" Martha said, "I'm warning you, you'd better
put lotion on. You'll itch like crazy and look horrible for a week.
You're not used to that much sun." She parted the robe and rubbed
lotion on her legs, and Ronnie rose to her feet and slipped off the
shoulder straps of her swimsuit and pushed the top down, bearing to my
eyes yet another set of delectable breasts with suckable nipples, and
I just sat there and watched Martha, feeling ridiculous again while
hearing Ronnie undress behind me. Ronnie said it was strange that we
looked at each other all day with no clothes on, yet here we were, the
three of us, sitting almost like Puritans in our swimsuits, showing
most of our bodies anyway, after spending half the day nude in broad
daylight. And Martha joked, "When it comes to our bodies, civiliza-
tion had made us very uncivilized." Ronnie agreed. "How did the cave
men react to that?" Ronnie asked, and I saw her swimsuit float through
the air from behind me and land near the sofa. Ronnie said, "I mean,
we weren't always covered with hair." Martha said ominously, "Origi-
nal Sin, my child. Remember how ashamed Adam and Eve were when they
figured out they were nekkid?" And Ronnie laughed and said, "Wonder
why it took them so long to figure it out?" and Martha said, "It is
silly."
In my desperation to appear calm, cool and collected I mentioned
that a candlelight bath wouldn't burn us the way a sunbath would, and
behind me Ronnie said, on her way to the kitchen in her bare feet,
"Hey, wanna take a candlelight bath? What the hell, Steven already
saw us in the sun," and Martha said, "It's our attitudes, Ronnie, it's
our training. Anyway, I think candlelight is very therapeutic." From
the kitchen Ronnie said, "I'm definitely in need of therapy."
Then it was Martha who was naked next. She let the robe slip
partially off her and then she discreetly lay face down on her tummy
next to me and shrugged off the robe entirely and pitched it loosely
onto a chair behind us. She lifted the Coppertone up to me and asked
me to put lotion on her back. I knelt beside her stretched-out
figure. I glanced toward the kitchen, where Ronnie was getting ready
to step into the shower and was watching me rub oil on Martha, and she
asked Martha, "Don't his hands feel great? I told you this afternoon
you were missing something." As I rubbed lotion on Martha, Ronnie
stepped into the shower. Martha muttered, her face on her folded
arms, "It's silly, anyway, to sit around in hot clothes in this little
place all the time, after lying nude together on the beach all day."
I rubbed Coppertone into her back and she said, "I hope you liked it
out there today. Didn't it feel good, with the sun and the breeze?"
I told her, "Actually, it felt great," and she said, "So what are you
so skittish about?" and I said, "Well, I was getting... you know," and
she grinned against her arm and said, "Oh, Steven, that happens. When
there are other people on the beach, it happens. At least you have
something worth looking at. There's one old guy out there, we see him
now and then. Fat little tub of lard with a belly you wouldn't
believe, and he just sits out there and eyes the girls. You can
plainly see him enjoying it." She paused and then asked, "If it were
just you and I out there...Well, we're accustomed to each other. Is
it because Ronnie was there, too?" I balked and shrugged and said,
"Maybe." I moved to her legs. Martha was quiet for a minute and then
she said, "She's pretty," and I said, "Who? Ronnie?" and she nodded
yes against her arm, and I said, "Yeah. She is." Martha said, "I wish
I had a figure like hers. So delicate." I said, "There's absolutely
nothing wrong with your figure." She said, firmly, "There's nothing
wrong with yours, either. I wish you wouldn't be so shy with Ronnie.
She's a lot like me, you know. There's nothing to be afraid of." I
rubbed her ankles and told her, "Okay. Okay, it just...takes me a
little time. Time and practice." Martha sighed, and after a moment
she said, "I'll see if I can make it easier for you." I didn't know
what she meant. I rubbed lotion on the back of her upper legs, and I
knew I'd get a raging erection if this didn't end soon. She said
quietly against her arm, "Just wait," and I asked her, "Hm?" She
said, more quietly, "Give her a chance, hon. She's not what you
expect."
PART 12B:
Ronnie stepped out of the shower and I got a fleeting glimpse of
her willowy torso and small tits and slinky figure and her diminutive,
silky pelt before she wrapped a big towel around her. She dried
quickly, walking into the living room, drying her black hair with a
smaller towel and holding the bigger towel around her front. She
said, "No lotion yet, Steven?" She added in her bad Southern accent,
"You country critters ain't used to the kind of sun you get here in
the Big City on Fahr Island."
Martha said, "I'm working on him, Ron."
Ronnie spread the towel on the floor and stretched over it face
down and then rested on her tummy, and she joked, "Uh-oh, Martha's
working on ya. You don't stand a chance. Martha always gets her
way." She relaxed face down, arms extended past her head.
I found myself on my knees on the floor between two nubile, naked
women. Ronnie yawned and said, "Steven, I know that only rude,
demanding, really bitchy women make requests like this, but...when you
finish Martha, can you do my back?"
I said okay, and I finished Martha's legs. When I shifted over to
work on Ronnie's back, Martha looked at me and asked if I were still
embarrassed. I said no. She asked, "Then why do you still have your
shorts on?" I balked, wondering if I could conceal a recurrence of
the hard-on's I had earlier, and Ronnie said, "I wonder if men are
more embarrassed about it than women." Martha said she thought that
might be true, because the popular conception was that women's bodies
were pretty and displayable and men's weren't, and Ronnie said she
remembered reading that women were ten times more exhibitionistic than
men. "I mean," Ronnie said, "Look at the magazine rack. The pinups
and most ads are pictures of women, not pictures of men."
I watched as Ronnie and Martha, lying on their tummies and facing
each other, grinned and winked. So I stood up and said, "All right,
you two, you made your point," and they snickered and carried on be-
tween them while I removed my clothes. Martha smirked when she saw I
was a little firm, and Ronnie saw too and turned her head the other
way, resting it on the floor. Ronnie said, "All right, I won't look.
Just don't leave my back alone. Its crying for attention." I knelt
down and wet my hands with lotion and spread it lightly on Ronnie's
back, and she moaned and said, "Oh, I thought it was the sun that was
so warm, but it was Steven's hands!" Martha looked up at me warmly
and asked, "We're not being too demanding, are we, hon? Ronnie and I
are so used to each other. We've been on that beach dozens of times,
and we always shower and rub down with lotion when we get home." I
smiled and said it was okay, and Martha rose onto her elbows and
watched me rubbing Ronnie. Martha said, "I hope we can get Steven
used to us. We'll be going out there again before he leaves." And
Ronnie said, "Well, you two shouldn't be exactly strangers to each
other," and when Martha didn't say anything, Ronnie tensed and asked,
"Martha, did I say the wrong thing again?" Martha said quietly, "No,
hon." And Ronnie murmured out of the side of her mouth with her mouth
near the floor, "Leave it to Ronnie to open her big mouth. Just nail
my lips to the floor. I'll be quiet." Martha said again, "It's
fine, Ronnie," looking up at me to see if I had reacted to Ronnie. I
smiled at her and shook my head to tell Martha I didn't mind.
Time passed and the candles lowered. Ronnie moaned a couple of
times as I rubbed, and I moved down to cover her legs and then moved
up to put lotion on her supple, compact derriere. She smiled and said,
"hmm," and I finished rubbing that part of her quickly, feeling blood
rush to my groin. But I saw Martha looking at me, and she pointed at
Ronnie's tush, scowling. I tilted my head at her, questioning, and
she frowned and pointed at Ronnie's tush again, twice, so I laid my
palms gently on the soft globes, and Martha nodded. I let my hands
rest on Ronnie, who lay silently with her eyes shut. I looked at
Martha. She nodded again. I took a breath: what was Martha up to? I
massaged Ronnie's tush, faking it a little by also kneading the small
of her back, at which she grunted, eyes closed, "Mmp. Good. Oh,
that's the spot." But daringly I kept returning to her tush, wary,
and Martha nodded again. When Ronnie didn't scream in horror I let my
palms rest on her cute, tanned tush again, more affectionately, and
after a couple of seconds Ronnie turned her head toward Martha and
rested her head on the rug again and said, "Steven found my Achilles'
heel, Martha. What technique. Really, you could get a job at
Fiore's." Martha beamed at me childishly and wiggled her feet and
said, "Me, too, Steven. You didn't do all of me," and I said, "Sure.
I wouldn't want that to peel," and Ronnie chuckled at that. I left
Ronnie and moved to Martha and rubbed lotion on the back of Martha's
legs and then massaged lotion lingeringly onto her tush, and she
smiled, pleased, and Ronnie opened her eyes to watch Martha and Martha
glanced at Ronnie and grinned sheepishly at her. Ronnie said, "See? I
told you he had great hands." Martha said slowly, "Yes, Ronnie, I
know about Steven's hands." Ronnie crooked an elbow and leaned her
head on her raised hand, her small, erect breasts retaining their
shape as she moved slightly onto her side. She watched Martha as I
rubbed, and then looked up at me, and then back at Martha, and I saw
Martha wink at her and then close her eyes and smile. Ronnie got
another cigarette and lit up and leaned on her arm again and just
watched us, her face expressionless. But there was something in her
dark eyes again, inexplicable and vaguely sensual. During the brief
moments as I worked on Martha I glanced at Ronnie now and then, and
she would glance back, her expression unchanging and impenetrable. I
finished Martha with a couple of loving strokes and a squeeze. Then
Martha rose on her elbows and said, "Okay, Steven, your turn. Lie
down."
I gave it a moment's thought, but Martha insisted, "C'mon, lie
down." I lay face down between them, grateful for the chance to hide
my rising penis. I closed my eyes and folded my arms on the floor and
rested my face on my forearms. I heard Martha slither lotion on her
hands. She spread her palms on my back and rubbed thoroughly, then
languorously. She said to Ronnie, "Steven likes the soft touch, at
first." She massaged me gently for a long moment and then said to
Ronnie, "Here, you do him." I heard Ronnie wet her hands and then
felt her long-fingered, hot hands making feathery trails up and down
my back and across the back of my neck, and my cock got harder. Then
someone, probably Martha, whispered, "Try this," and Ronnie's hands
left and reappeared as fingers trailing down my thighs, and the young
dark brown hair on my legs and arms bristled, and I heard Ronnie give
a little squeal and a chuckle and she said, "Mm, he likes that," and
Martha said, "Yes, he does." After lightly rubbing my legs for a
minute she gripped me on my lower calves and ran her hands firmly up
my legs to the tops of my thighs, saying "It brings the blood from the
legs to the heart. Fiore taught me that." I moaned approvingly into
my forearms; it did feel pretty good. Then Ronnie's hand left me
again and I heard her lather and then she spread her fingers over my
buttocks lightly and she gently rubbed lotion on me there, giving my
globes a little squeeze before trailing her fingers across the skin,
whispering, "I'd die for a tush like this," and Martha said, "He's so
cute back there," and Ronnie murmured, "Very cute. I'm envious."
Then her fingers made long, slow, feathery trails over my buttocks and
then across the back of my thighs and back up to my buttocks and up my
back, and then back down, and she did that several times. Then her
fingers went downwards they skimmed gently over my butt and along the
crack to my thighs, and she did that again, and trhen again, slowly.
Then as her fingers flitted down my crack they ever so sneakily grazed
the hair on my balls. I jerked and gave a little yelp, and Ronnie
whispered laughingly, "Sorry, sweetheart. That was an accident.
Really." As Ronnie recapped the lotion bottle she laughed shyly and
told Martha, "God, Martha, you don't have those things on you when I
give you a rubdown. I'm not used to them. They're so mysterious and
amazing, and I never saw them from this angle." They both tittered
about that, and Ronnie said guiltily, "Oh, Martha, we're being so--"
and they both sniggered, and Ronnie said, "Well, he's--" and Martha
said quickly and insistently, "Shh. He'll be all right," and Ronnie
whispered something brief that I couldn't make out. Martha replied
"Mm-hm" in agreement and then whispered a couple of words back. Then
Martha said soberly, "All right, let's settle down," and then she
touched my arm and asked, "You still okay?" With my face against my
arms I nodded yes, and then Martha leaned on me from behind, one firm
nipple against my back, and she stroked the back of my neck and said
to both of us, "Touch is so reassuring, isn't it? It can be so com-
forting." Ronnie said, "Oh, yes. They say that of all the senses,
the sense of touch brings the most pleasure," and Martha said, "I love
touching. Steven's a toucher, too. Steven, does that feel nice?" I
nodded yes. My cock pressed unpleasantly into the hard floor.
Martha said, "Ronnie, Steven and I still hold hands in the movies,
like old friends," and Ronnie said, "Really? That's so sweet, you two
are so sweet with each other. I was holding his hand in the movie
yesterday, but I never knew his hands were that warm *all* the time.
I thought it was just being indoors at the movie." Martha said, "It's
nice to just sit and hold hands. Steven, remember the Suzore's, and
all those Bowery Boys movies?"
I cleared my throat and lifted my head slightly to murmur, "Yeah,
I remember that. I even had dreams about it. She's a great hand
holder."
Martha gave a pleased little laugh and said, "Dreams? You liked
holding hands with me that much?"
I nodded yes and then I felt Martha lower her head. Her hair
grazed my shoulder and her lips touched my back. She skimmed her lips
across my back, barely touching, and she said to Ronnie, "Lips are
nice, too. They're more exciting than just touching. But they're
soothing when you do it right. Steven likes it this way," and she
gave my back a little kiss with the inside of her lips and said, "Such
nice skin. Everyone in his family has touchable skin. Try it, Ron."
Ronnie said, "Me?" and Martha said, "Yes, go ahead," and Ronnie leaned
close to my head and said, "Is it okay, Steven?" I nodded yes, and
braced myself during a long pause and heard Martha say, "Go ahead. He
won't jump on you." Ronnie said, "I'm not afraid of being jumped on.
I'm more afraid we'll drive him crazy and he'll run away." Martha
said, "He won't," and Martha leaned closer to me and put her hand on
my shoulder and said, "Just relax. Trust. Okay?" I nodded, saying
to myself: fat chance! What in the world was Martha trying to do to
me? And the next thing I knew, close to my ear was Ronnie's voice,
soft, alluring, and she said, "Trust me? Hm?" And, one more time, I
left my fate in their hands and said "Okay."
A few seconds later Ronnie's lips were on my back, gliding moistly
a couple of inches across, and my cock lurched under me and I uttered
under my breath a low "Mmm." Ronnie said, "Hmm, yeah. Nice. Hey,
you smell good. Under the lotion I can smell you, it's...like wheat,
maybe, a little like wheat. I thought all guys smelled like sweat and
beer." Martha said, "Steven hates beer," and I cleared my throat and
said, "Yeah, I can't stand beer," and Ronnie said, "Good for you,
sweetheart," and she teased me, "But you do sweat, right?" I said
sarcastically, "I'm workin' on that right now," and they chuckled
and Ronnie gave my shoulders an affable squeeze and gave my back an
admiring stroke and said gently, "Well, you just accept the compliment
and don't 'sweat it'. You have a nice, healthy body and healthy
habits, so it's no wonder you feel and smell so nice. I wouldn't be
at all embarrassed about it. Okay?" I didn't reply. I kept my face
nestled tightly against my arms. Martha said, "He has a problem with
compliments, Ron, he can't really handle them," and Ronnie stroked my
shoulders and said, "Eh, lots of people have that problem. He'll get
over it," but Martha joked, "No. He's incurable." Ronnie said, "But
look at him, he's so lean and strong." I could have agreed with that,
considering the hidden effect her long fingers and incredibly warm
hands were having on me. Ronnie bent down and held her arm near my
face and asked, "Do I smell like anything?" I sniffed her arm and
said, "Coppertone," and she said, disappointed, "Is that all?" and I
sniffed again and said, "Hm, it's like...Well, I don't know what it's
like, but it *is* nice...kinda sweet." Ronnie asked "You mean like
soap from the shower?" and I said, "No, it's not soap, it's just...not
anything I could describe." She said, "Well, congratulations, I
didn't use soap. It's too drying after a day on the beach. See? You
guessed right. Here--" The next thing I knew, she took Martha's arm
and held it near my face and said, "Try Martha, now," and I sniffed
Martha's all too familiar flesh and said, "Mm-hm. Nice. But..." and
Ronnie prompted, "But different, right?" I saw that she was right
and I nodded yes, and she said with her lips near my ear, in that low,
seductive voice of hers, "It's an animal thing, it's our natural sense
of someone who's frightened, or unfriendly...but we lose sight of so
many of our natural senses. And when that happens, we don't trust our
bodies any more. Or each other." She put her lips to my hair and I
heard her inhale and she said, "Mm. Nice, too." She rose and said
sarcastically, "We look like a bunch of eskimos, sniffing each other."
We laughed at that and Martha joked, "We oughtta be using whale oil
instead of Coppertone." Martha said to me, teasing Ronnie, "She
really has this nose thing, Steven, I oughtta warn you," and Ronnie
insisted, "Well, I like a body that has a nice feel and a nice smell,
and he has both." Then Martha leaned close to my ear and said, "Time
to roll over, Steven."
I didn't move. I lay rigid.
Martha said, "Come on, roll over. You don't want your front to
peel."
But I remained still, and I heard Martha give a small laugh of
surprise. She gave my shoulder a nudge and said, "Come on, roll
over. What's the matter?"
Ronnie said, "Uh, well, I think the lip treatment might have made
Steven a little, uh, you know...al dente?"
Martha laughed again and asked with obvious amusement, "Steven,
are you hard?"
I didn't stir.
She asked, "Are you?" I nodded yes, and both women laughed in-
dulgently. Martha entreated gently, "Come on, it won't be anything we
haven't already seen. Come on. We'll be careful."
I shook my head no, and Ronnie said, "Oh, Martha, don't push him.
I don't care myself, but you saw how embarrassed he was today."
Martha implored enticingly, "Oh, come on. Don't be ashamed of
feeling good. Doesn't it feel good?" and I nodded and she said, "So
come on and roll over," and I shook my head, firmly this time, and
Martha asked, "How about if Ronnie closes her eyes?" and I shook my
head no again. Why wouldn't Martha leave me alone? Another look at
either Martha or Ronnie and I'd probably blow my wad.
Then Ronnie's lips were near my ear and she whispered sympathetic-
ally, "You want us to wait a minute? I forget that guys are more
bashful about this sort of thing than women are. It's easier for us
girls to hide the, uh, visual evidence, y'know? Want us to wait?
We'll wait if you want. C'mon, say yes." I nodded yes. Her hand
touched the back of my neck and she said to Martha, "Martha, he really
is touchable," and Martha nodded her head toward Ronnie's hand on my
neck and said, "Ronnie, I don't think touching him helps right now. I
think he has to get a little more used to us non-Catholics, first,"
and Ronnie removed her hand and said, "Yeah, right. Sorry."
I heard and felt them both sit up and Martha sighed and said,
"Okay, Steven, we'll wait if you want. I don't want to embarrass you,
you know that," and Ronnie said, "Come on, Steven, I understand," and
she chuckled and then I heard them both give muffled, whispered laughs
and Martha said, "I hope we didn't overdo it." Ronnie said, "Oh, he
can't be that excited." Martha said, "Ronnie, see how different it
is when you're gentle, and loving, and your body is nice to someone
else's?" and Ronnie said, "Jeez, I'm so used to just being grabbed and
pitched around." Martha said, "Well, some people like that, I guess,"
and Ronnie said, "I'm sick of the volleyball treatment, myself." I
heard Ronnie light a cigarette behind me and after a puff Ronnie said,
"He really does have nice proportions, and he looks so mature. Some
guys do mature early, one of my brothers was like that. Why's he so
shy about it?" Martha said, "Give up, Ron. I told you. He's
incurable." Ronnie said, "Sometimes that can be nice in a guy. I can
certainly identify with it." I felt Ronnie settle on the floor beside
me, and she asked, "Steven? Ready yet?"
I muttered against my arm, "Almost."
Ronnie said, "Martha, he can't be that big. I mean, you saw him,
he was just--you know..."
Martha said, "You measured him, Ronnie?"
Ronnie said, "Of course not. He looked pretty normal to me."
Martha said, "Well...that was earlier."
Ronnie asked, mildly impatient, "So how do you know so much about
his recent development? Huh? Have *you* been walking around here
with a tape measure? So...you're just gonna sit there with that
secret grin of yours, and not let me in on this?" Ronnie said to me,
"Steven, it looks like Martha doesn't snitch. You can be proud of
her."
Martha said slyly, "Keeps you guessing, Ron,"
Ronnie said sarcastically, "I'm guessing, Martha."
Martha reminded me, "You know, Ronnie saw plenty of nude models in
art school. She's definitely seen some strange bodies," and Ronnie
muttered, "God, that's for sure. Not all in art school, either."
They waited several seconds, and then Martha called softly, "Steee-
vennn. Did you calm down yet?"
I shook my head no.
She complained, "Hon, aren't you down just a little?" and I said,
"Almost," and Ronnie asked Martha again, "Gee, I thought guys would be
proud of that, not embarrassed. You're just exaggerating, Martha.
C'mon, fess up." Martha said, "Oh, size doesn't matter so much. It's
the shape that counts," and Ronnie asked, "Shape?" and Martha said,
"You'll see. Come on, Steven."
Reluctantly I raised my head and groaned "Okay" and shifted onto
my side. I saw Martha peering around my body at my slowly settling
but still prominent cock. She smiled and said, "Okay, that's better,"
and Ronnie gave me an affable wink and mouthed the words, "It's okay."
Martha gently shoved me onto my back, imploring me patiently,
"Come, relax, come on." I shifted to get comfortable on the floor and
put my hands behind my head while Martha and Ronnie settled onto their
folded legs on either side of me. Martha spread lotion on her hands
and held her hands still on my chest for a moment. I closed my eyes.
The sight of two attractive nude bodies and four breasts above me was
not not a relaxing vision at the moment.
Martha lotioned my chest and waist and my left leg. While she
worked on my legs, I felt a couple of fingers touch my cheek, and I
opened my eyes to see Ronnie bending close to me and studying some-
thing on my face. She said, "Mm, they've all gone away." I said,
"Yeah, between Martha's facial and Fiore's workout, they didn't stand
much chance." She said, "Good. They say it's supposed to be a
natural occurrence, but who believes that? It's hokum. Lookit that,
you can hardly see. That's good. Your skin has a good glow, too."
I said, "Thanks," and she said, "Don't mention it." And she gave me
another once over with her eyes and then her eyes settled on mine
again, and she smiled and said, "Her hands feel good on you, don't
they?" and I nodded yes, and she said, "Good. Learn to enjoy your
body, not to be embarrassed by it," and I said, "Okay." But she kept
looking at me, and she lifted her face a little and her eyes roamed
quickly over my face and hair across my shoulders and she said,
"You have a very nice body." It was an effortless, direct statement,
spoken almost in a monotone. Her tone of voice was neutral; she might
just as well use the same voice to say I had nice fingernails. I
blinked, growing embarrassed again under her gaze, and she saw my
blush and she smiled and whispered, "It's all right to close your
eyes and enjoy." I closed my eyes.
After Martha worked slowly on my legs a while, I heard Ronnie say,
"Here, gimme some, Martha," and Ronnie lotioned my right leg firmly
and for the moment, at least, my cock lay flopped over to one side and
behaved, but my scrotum ached. Then Martha began to feather her palms
across my tummy and waist and then along my upper thighs and she
asked, "Feel nice?" I nodded, and Martha whispered, "Steven is so
flat here and so nicely rounded along his legs. See? Even his knees
are cute," and Ronnie said, "I can see, Martha, don't rub it in. I'd
die for a figure like this, and I'm not even a guy." Martha said to
Ronnie, "You know, he'd make a good subject," and Ronnie said, "Hey,
you're right. He would. I'd love to have him model for me. But he
might feel too threatened for that. Like now." Martha leaned closer
to me and whispered, "Steven, are my hands non-threatening? Do they
feel nice?" I nodded, and Martha told Ronnie, "He feels threatened
when he's grabbed. Because he's so independent and rebellious,
whether he likes to admit it or not. But, Ronnie, look: he likes it
subtle, he likes to be caressed, like this," and she ran three joined
fingertips lightly in wide circles across my upper thighs and lower
tummy and I felt my cock lurch upward in the air. I closed my eyes
and Martha whispered to me, "Shh. Easy. Easy. Just enjoy it. It's
okay," and she let her fingertips feather their way back and forth
across my abdomen and told Ronnie, "Look how tight he is here. Can
you believe it?" and Ronnie said, "I can believe it, why do you think
I'm so envious?" I was about to say that one reason my tummy was so
tight was because I was sucking it in and holding my breath like
crazy; but I realized I couldn't hold that pose forever, and I needed
air, and Martha *did* say to take it easy. So, slowly, I let air out
and relaxed, and Martha said, "There, hon. That's better." And her
fingers did feel good and soothing. But then her fingers on my tummy
shifted from moving back and forth to moving up and down, each slow
stroke getting a little lower, and I opened my eyes and saw her face
above me watching my tummy, and Ronnie was at my other side watching
Martha.
I closed my eyes again, trusting that Martha must know what the
hell she was doing. In the dark behind my eyelids I imagined I could
still see the candle's vague flicker and could almost hear the
sensuous, overwhelming quiet that had overtaken the room. Martha let
the fingernails of one hand stroke lower and lower; they brushed my
pubic patch once, then again, and I heard Martha say to Ronnie, "Now
watch, Ron. I'm going to let my hands learn about him, but I'm going
to take my time...and let him learn about my hands, too..." Martha's
fingernails strayed across my dark curls, across to my left hip, down
the top of one thigh, and then she made softer, slower strokes up and
down my inner thigh, each stroke up getting closer to my cock. I
swallowed, hard, knowing both women could clearly hear it. Martha
whispered to me, "Steven? Doesn't that feel nice?" I nodded yes.
She stroked up, her nails trailing quickly past my cock and back to
where she started, and she began all over again, whispering, "See?
That wasn't too scary, was it?" But I nodded yes, and they both
snickered over my answer, and Ronnie said sarcastically, "Right,
Martha. So relaxing!" The merriment faded very quickly, because
Martha said, "Shhh. Relax, now." She laid her warm, humid palm high
on my tummy, and laid her other hand on that hand and held her palm
perfectly still on me, and she said with a soft, hypnotic, monotone
whisper, "Just relax... Relax...Everything's under control, now...
slowing down." Her voice was different now, no longer playful or
bantering. It was getting softer, beguiling, as she whispered, "Don't
be afraid of your body, Steven...be proud of it. Ronnie and I won't
let fear into this room...shhhhh...no fear."
And I did relax, easing my arms behind my head again and letting
my eyelids stay naturally shut instead of wincing. But my cock was
still there, about half erect, leaning to one side. After a long,
silent moment, Martha's palm lifted from my tummy and her nails
returned, drawing a wide, five-fingernail path from my navel to the
beginning of my young fur, then up, then down again, and they grazed
the hairs up and down, and they strayed off toward my left hip and
over it and down my thigh, and then up the inner thigh, and then up
and down the thin skin there, nearly touching my balls, and then
trailing around my balls and back to my tummy. Then the nails
disappeared and her palm reappeared, warm, still, reassuring, just
below my navel. My dick was harder; I tried to ignore it, concen-
trating on Martha's warm, comforting, steadying palm. To my right I
heard a slight motion and then crackling paper, then a match was
struck. Someone, probably Ronnie, lit another cigarette. Martha's
palm was absolutely still on me and she whispered, "Easy, now...
memorize my hand, Steven. Just relax." I began to relax again. I
heard Ronnie smoking, and the odor wafted my way, and I heard the
faint, low, steady, electrical buzz from the motor of the fan on the
window sill--I grasped at any distraction that would ease the tension
down below. Then Martha's hand lifted and the fingernails reappeared,
and they made the same journey again, into the curls and then to my
left hip and then to my knee, then along my inner thigh, and Martha
whispered a hushed, "It's okay. It's okay," and her nails crept up my
thigh and my dick rose a little, and the nails slid upward near but
alongside my cock, passing it, and the warm palm settled below my
navel again, and Martha whispered, "That was good, hon. You're doing
fine." Her palm rested on me. A long, long moment passed. The room
was dead quiet. Then there was subtle movement, sounding as if Ronnie
were getting settled beside me, and I heard Ronnie whisper, "Yes", the
word barely audible, and in a moment Martha lifted her hand and then
the five fingernails touched my tummy again. They moved slowly toward
my pubic hair. But the nails felt a little different. They seemed
sharper, somehow. Perhaps Martha had changed hands; their motion had
a different character, slower, more experimental. The nails found
their way to my pubic hair, lingering there, toying, and instead of
moving to my left hip they moved to my right, back and forth, then
across the right hip, then down the top of my right thigh instead of
my left. Then they stroked the inner thigh with a new technique, a
lazy slide up and a scratchier path back toward my knee, and then a
slow slide perilously close to my balls and then up to the skin of my
thigh that lay just beside them, and a single nail made a slow, small
circle there. And then it was apparent, when I felt the touch of a
wrist sliding on my right leg, that the hand that stroked me came not
from Martha's position beside me but from Ronnie's. I opened my eyes
a little and found I was right. Ronnie sat on folded legs beside me,
and Martha kneeled upright at my other side, both of them watching
Ronnie's hand on me. And my cock stood nearly straight up. Martha
saw me watching and glanced at me and smiled and whispered, "Feel
good?" I smiled back and said, "Sure," my voice sounding totally
foreign. Then Ronnie, whose position on her side placed her head near
mine but higher, looked down at me and smiled as well. Her smile was
friendly and calm, but all I could see in her dark blue eyes was a
hint of something smoldering inside the blue gems. She asked in a
lazy voice, "So whose hands feel better?" I waited a second and
answered, "Unfair question." She grinned and gave a quiet laugh, and
I added, "Not better. Different. Good different." She smirked and
said, "Oh. I getcha." She returned her gaze to my lower area and
then she sat upright near my hips and placed her palm on my tummy and
placed her other hand on top of that and held her palm still on me and
said, "You get to relax now. Shhhhhh." I asked her, "Oh, you know
that trick, too?" Martha broke in and said, "Fiore's masseuse taught
us this one," and then Ronnie's blue eyes were looking into mine and
she said softly, "Shhhhh. Steven. Relax. Close your eyes." I did,
getting settled under her very soft, very nearly weightless palm, and
she coaxed me, "Shhhhhh. My hand is very still. The whole world is
softness, now. Very warm. Right here in my hand...Very soft...Very
quiet..." Her dulcet, coddling tone worked beautifully on me, worked
as well as Martha's did, and in the dark behind my eyelids I became
aware that Ronnie's voice didn't seem to be her usual one, but had
taken on an additional, lower octave and was breathier, more sure and
more captivating. The only part of me that didn't slacken was my
cock, which was almost at full mast. Yet I had no choice: these two
young women obviously knew what they were doing, and I didn't. I soon
realized that even if this event didn't lead to a fiery orgasm, what
these two nature lovers shared with me so far wasn't half bad.
Ronnie's palm stabilized me for a long, peaceful interval. I
heard only their relaxed breathing, and mine gradually normalized.
But not for long. Ronnie's palm left me and the fingernails returned,
but now they seemed more calculating, more mindful of the terrain.
They lingered in my pubic hair, making small circles, then wider ones,
the nails pressing a little, and on one widening circle the edge of
her hand barely grazed my cock, at its root, and then again. With
that second contact I heard a subtle change in my own breathing: I
knew Ronnie had done it deliberately and I had the feeling that she
knew I knew. Her nails paused in my curls, pressing, and then they
swept lightly rightward, then circled on my right hip, then slithered
downward in a wide curve along the top of my thigh and off to the
inner thigh near the knee, and they slowed, purposeful, slowly gliding
upward toward my balls, then swiftly down again, then more slowly up,
and up, and into the corner of flesh between my balls and thigh, and
up again. My blood cells certainly knew what she was doing; they
lined up in a row and headed straight to my groin. I felt my dick
glide straight up, high in the air. Then the nails trailed slowly
down, and then they trailed slowly up, but the higher they went the
slower they moved, until they settled on my thigh near my balls and
then stayed, barely touching my flesh. Then only one nail moved, as
if wandering from the other four, toward my balls. Then it stopped.
I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out slowly. Her hand
was still for a moment. Then the single nail near my balls made a
tiny, slow circle, then another, and the edge of the circle grazed one
testicle, just barely, almost imperceptibly, and then the fingernail
began making slow circles in a deliberate rhythm. My cock urged
itself upward, standing full strength to display its nearly sixteen
years and eight-plus lean, stiff inches, and then it throbbed, a
twinge of deep pleasure oozing through its length, and in the cool air
around my slit I felt a trace of fluid emerge. I heard Martha say,
"Ron. See what I mean?" and the circling fingernail stopped and I
heard Ronnie answer, "Mm-hm. Look..." and Martha said, "Yes." I
opened my eyes and looked down. Ronnie was staring at the bead on my
tip that glistened in the candlelight and appeared ready to drip from
its swollen mooring. Her nails left me and as she watched my cock
intently she unexpectedly lifted her hand and gently dipped a finger
onto the smear. I caught my breath and my tummy shivered, and Martha
whispered, "Careful," and Ronnie whispered absently, looking at her
finger, "Well, I tried to be, but I didn't think--you know...," and
she placed her other palm on my tummy and looked at my eyes and said,
"Shhhhhh. Easy," and then more quietly, "Shhhhhhh," and she waited
with her slender palm on me and I saw her gentle, narrow face and her
soft blue eyes and her easy, apologetic smile, and I relaxed a bit,
and I watched her as she looked at the fingers of her other hand that
had the precum on it and she rubbed two fingers together. She
whispered, "Mmm. Wet," and then her eyes found Martha's and Ronnie
grinned and blushed, whispering impishly, "Oh, I think this is
starting to feel a little...illicit."
Martha's eyes glowed, and Ronnie gazed at the glossy smear she
rubbed between her upheld fingers and mused throatily, "Mmm. I'm at
least this wet myself, right now," and Martha whispered, blushing,
"Me too," and they both suppressed a giggle. Martha looked at me and
cleared her throat and said, giving my forehead a gentle stroke, "Hon,
you're not the only one who's a little nervous." They grinned at each
other again and Ronnie looked at my cock, and then at me. She let her
hand rest on the one whose palm covered my tummy, and she said, "Okay,
now. Shhhhhh. Let's take it easy." She saw my eyes watching her and
her eyes had an eerily mind-bending effect on me and I knew she saw
the tension in my face. She whispered, "Trust me?" and I searched her
eyes and saw the sweetness in them and I nodded yes and she whispered,
"We're friends?" and I nodded and whispered "Yes" and she said,
"Okay," and she looked at her palm on me and she whispered, "Just
relax, then. Just relax," and she waited. I glanced at Martha, who
watched me unperturbed with an I-told-you-so arch of her brow, and I
knew she was right: Ronnie was nothing like I would imagine. I let my
eyes close. My mind concentrated on the warm palm and the long, soft
fingers on my tummy. Ronnie whispered, "Very soft now. Very soft.
Very still." A long, hushed moment passed. There was no movement at
all. The fan in the window whirred sleepily. A candle sputtered.
Then I heard Martha whisper, "Carefully, Ron," and Ron whispered back,
"I know." I wondered what was happening. Her palm didn't stir.
After a couple of still seconds I felt her palm still there, but the
fingernails of Ronnie's other hand started at my knee and trailed up
my inner thigh and then slowed near my balls and crept more slowly
higher until they were very near my balls and then they stopped. I
heard Ronnie say, "I owe you one, Steven. Remember?" I remembered
her words in the staircase about the rose and I swallowed and nodded
yes, and then several seconds passed with her palm and her fingernails
still on me, and then the fingernails changed to fingertips and the
soft tips moved to touch the edge of my balls and then to the root of
my cock and then smoothly and slowly up my cock, and then Ronnie's
long, soft fingers coiled around my cock slowly and amiably. My shaft
gave her a little throb hello as the heat and texture of her fingers
and palm soaked through my flesh and into my thighs, and with my eyes
closed I let out a soft, low, surrendering breath, and blood rushed
throughout me, and Ronnie's gentle fist just held me, perfectly
still, and she said, "Shhhhh. I know it feels good, Steven. Count my
fingers. Just let my hand learn about you. Shhhhh." I could feel my
swollen corona poke up beyond her grasp, and damn if I didn't count
every one of her fingers as Ronnie waited and I waited. Ronnie
whispered, hushed and slow, "God, he's so warm. Jesus," and Martha
whispered, "I told you," and Ronnie whispered, "Martha, I see what you
mean. He's long, but...It's the shape. Yeah. The shape," and
Martha said, "That hint of a curve?" and Ronnie said, "Yeah. Just
enough." And she just held me, her palm on my tummy and her fist
around my cock so still and steady and warm they felt protective. I
heard Ronnie breath inward and swallow and then release a slow,
easing breath through her nose that seemed to relax her as well as
me. Then she whispered, "Those doctors did a beautiful job on you,
Steven," and Martha said, "Yes. They did," and Ronnie whispered, "He's
nice. He's just so nice, all over. Steven, you have no excuse for
embarrassment." It seemed her moist fingers melted into the flesh
covering my erection, and I could feel all of my long, hard shape
clearly within her slender hand. I breathed deeply, wondering how
long I'd last before generating a spontaneous, unassisted ejaculation.
The pleasure was mind boggling. I waited and waited, wondering just
how far the two women would take this business. Then I heard Ronnie
ask me, very, very quietly, "Doin' okay, sweetheart?" and I answered
with strain obvious in my voice, "Oh, yeah. Fine." Then I heard
Martha moving around and she cleared her throat and said, "I think
this might be enough for now, Ron. Let's relax Steven a little."
(And I figured, so that's what Martha's up to: the old kill Steven
with ecstasy routine!). Ronnie gave a quiet, somewhat embarrassed
laugh and said easily, "Yeah, I think you're right," and left her palm
on my tummy but she let go of my cock. Then I realized my back was
tight, arched up an inch or two. I settled against the floor with a
gasp. I opened my eyes, and Ronnie was still watching my face, her
palm warming on my tummy, and she asked sweetly, "All right with you
if we stop a while?" I breathed out, saying "Yeah, it's okay," and
she studied my eyes, and said, "Yes. Your eyes say it's okay." I
smiled and gulped and said flippantly, "My eyes tell no lies," and she
smiled back warmly, her palm still steadying me, and asked, "We're
still friends?" I nodded yes again. She smiled and whispered, "Let's
relax now, just for a second." She looked at her palm resting on me,
and during the next several seconds I actually felt my cock loosen up
a little because it was truly difficult to shift my focus from her
loving palm, and I thought that it was one hell of a clever, effective
technique. It had me wondering how many more tricks Ronnie knew.
After a moment she cleared her throat and said, "I really would like
to draw you. Would you think about it?" Martha said, moving around
on her knees and regaining her place on the floor beside me, "She's
really very good, Steven. She does beautiful work," and I muttered,
convinced, "Brother, she sure does," and Ronnie smirked at me and
blushed, and she said, "Good. I never touched anyone like that.
Thank you for trusting me." After a moment she raised her palm
and moved away from me to give me room to move.
Martha said compassionately, "Oh, hon, you look so worried."
Ronnie said good-naturedly, "Martha, this is just mean, playing
doctor and torturing Steven like this. We might drive him crazy."
Ronnie grabbed her thin, purple robe from her beach bag and covered
her waist and legs, still leaving bare the cute tits whose nipples
were plainly stiffening. And Martha said, "No, Ronnie. You'd be
surprised about him. He's full of surprises."
Martha bent down to me and kissed my cheek and said, "Don't fret,
hon, it'll be okay," and she rose and reached for the bottle of
lotion. I said uneasily, "If you say so," and she said, "It will.
Okay, now -- time for you to make me and Ronnie look ridiculous. Come
on. Wanna do my front?"
Martha moved away from me. I raised up, watching my cock bob a
little as it slowly relaxed. Martha lay on her back on the floor and
put one hand under head and rested, relaxed and supine. Her eyes met
mine and her face was calm, her eyes waiting. She listlessly held the
bottle of lotion to me and said, "I don't want my front to peel,
either."
I sat up on my knees beside her and squeezed lotion into one hand
and rested on my elbow, reclining on my side along Martha's length,
and smeared and rubbed the lotion into her chest and ribs. Martha
turned her head to one side and closed her eyes while I rubbed her
shoulders and the topside of her extended arms. Ronnie moved to kneel
behind me and watch. Martha looked up and past me as Ronnie re-
clined on her side behind me, her hips covered loosely by her bath-
robe. I saw Martha grin past me as if the two women had traded some
signal (or so I imagined). Ronnie said nothing, but I could
physically feel her watching us.
PART 12C:
I massaged lotion into Martha's arms and shoulders, my strokes
growing slower and more sensuous to test Martha's state of mind --
whatever the hell that might be at this point -- and moved tenta-
tively to the swell of her breasts and then between them for a while,
and then to her tummy, and down the tops of her thighs. Martha closed
her eyes and I asked, "Okay?" and she said, "Hm. Take your time,
hon." I got more lotion and massaged along the tops of her thighs and
calves, and then lightly along the inside of her thighs. I began to
let my hands pause, enjoying the feel of the soft, muscular flesh of
her upper thighs, and to my surprise she allowed her legs to part a
little, suggestively, and as I stroked a little higher her legs parted
more. I surveyed her face; eyes closed, she seemed unruffled. I
paused to take a breath; what did she want next? I felt Ronnie behind
me, unmoving but watching.
Martha said, her eyes still closed, "Get a little more lotion.
Rub it in here..." She flitted her fingers across her upper bosom and
said, "I tend to peel right along here." I said okay and turned a-
round a little to grab the lotion bottle, my eyes falling on Ronnie's.
She sat on folded legs behind me, near my left shoulder and near
Martha's head, leaning on one arm, and she gave me a weak little
hello smile; her face was placid, framed with wisps of black, curly
hair, but there was something in her dark eyes, those blue, slightly
narrowed, waiting eyes, shadowy, watching, simmering.
I turned back to Martha and laid my lotion soaked palms onto her
chest, just above her breasts, and then rubbed in small circles. Then
soft strokes downward, and then around her breasts briefly, and then
under them; and finally, in a move that I thought might be a mild re-
venge for her torturing me, I began to caress her breasts in slow
circles. But she lay motionless. I waited. Then I covered her
breasts with my palms, feeling hard nipples push up against my skin.
My hands rested there. No one made a move. I reached behind me and
grabbed the lotion bottle and wetted my fingers and then with my fing-
ertips I began to rub her nipples, and then rolled them between my
fingers, and she gave a lazy sigh. I'd intended to tease her the way
they had teased me; but instead of getting nervous she enjoyed it, a
smile stealing across her face. So, I thought, this wasn't daringly
teasing enough for either of them. I teased her nipples for another
long moment, seeing and feeling them stiffen, and then I let my hands
trickle lightly down her tummy and down the top of her right thigh,
and then teased back and forth, back and forth, and then I stroked her
inner thighs again. Martha opened her eyes, smiling sleepily, and I
smiled back, and her eyes closed again and she lay smiling while I
stroked higher along her thighs. This went on for a long moment.
Martha's breathing was irregular now and then, her thighs parting
minutely but visibly, her pussy rising toward my hand as I veered
closer and withdrew. When I finally got up my nerve and let my little
finger venture far enough to graze the wet edge of her outer lips, she
whispered a soft but anxious "Yes" and I withdrew the finger and let
my palm rest flat and high on the inside of her right thigh. I heard
a rustling behind me and a chill went up my spine when I realized that
Ronnie, who had been sitting and watching behind me and to my left
near Martha's shoulders, was now settling closer to me, on her side,
her legs extended along mine; and I felt her soft, warm, supple torso
rest against my back. A nipple flattened against me, and she let
herself relax against me with her head on my shoulder and one hand
resting lightly on my thigh. She just watched, her head motionless on
the back of my shoulder. I kept my palm on Martha's thigh and I
waited, calming her as well as myself. After a minute I slid my palm
higher, spreading my fingers, and I lifted my little finger and let
the finger's nail make a sneaky, wide circle on her, touching the edge
of her pubic swell. I did that for a moment, watching her closed eyes
as she lifted her chin a little and swallowed. And I felt Ronnie
watching silently.
My cock started hardening again, prompting me to initiate another
pause, so I removed my hand from Martha's thigh and placed it on her
waist. But she opened her eyes and gazed at mine, her auburn curls
falling across her forehead, and after a second she gently removed my
hand from her waist and placed it back where it had been, high on the
inside of her thigh, and still looking at me she parted her legs a
little wider. And I thought: Is she serious? Are they both serious?
So much for thinking this was just a tease-Steven game. I tested my
hypothesis and I tested Ronnie's part in this game by caressing in a
slow, up-and-down line that inched higher on Martha's thigh and then
along the edge of her mound, barely grazing it. I rested my hand on
her tummy, just above her bush. She looked at me, waiting. I was
still unsure, and after a few seconds Martha must have seen my uncer-
tainty; still watching my eyes, she took my hand and slowly placed my
palm directly onto her auburn tuft. She caressed my hand with hers
briefly, then raised her arm and draped it behind her head. Again,
she waited, her gray-green eyes patient.
I wondered about Ronnie. But Ronnie didn't make a sound or a
move. I knew she watching, and I knew that Martha knew she watching,
and yet Martha had placed my hand on her warm pubic thatch. My head
was swimming. The flood of giddy, excited blood that hazed my brain
began a swift and direct path to my penis. I was getting really hard
and I knew Ronnie could see. But it was obvious now that the way was
clear, that what I thought might be happening was possibly, probably,
actually happening. The room was very quiet, so quiet one could feel
and taste it. I allowed my palm to stray farther, downward, milli-
meters from Martha's treasure. Her eyes narrowed. It seemed, for a
very brief moment, that Ronnie stopped breathing; I felt the sensation
of tension from her. Certainly, I could tell that the single nipple
Ronnie pressed against my back had stiffened. I saw Martha waiting
and I figured, by now, that Ronnie knew what was happening. I lowered
my palm to Martha's mound and, gently, I pressed down on her and felt
moisture at the heel of my palm. Martha's eyes narrowed more, and she
gave a slight nod of her head. I made several slow, deliberately
inconclusive circles on her, and her eyes soon closed, and she let a
quiet, pleasurable breath leave her, and her legs slowly parted. Now
her legs were open wide, inviting me, and my palm felt her pussy
widen. Then my brain nearly exploded when I felt Ronnie's hand,
motionless for so long on my thigh, begin to caress my leg with a
slow, almost imperceptible movement. This went on for while as I
rubbed Martha's sex with my palm. Then I felt Ronnie's hand stop.
She pulled away from me, moving very carefully as if she did not want
to disturb anything, and I thought I heard the sound of rustling
cloth behind me. And I thought: Hell, that's the end of it.
But then I heard Ronnie whisper, "Shh. Don't move, you two."
Martha said quietly, "Ron?"
Ronnie whispered, "Just getting more comfortable." Her words were
casual, but as she kept talking her whisper became clandestine, secre-
tive. "It's so quiet now. And very dark outside...and his skin feels
so nice..." She added with a softer, clearly sexy whisper, "And we
have plenty of time." I saw the light purple robe she had been
wearing get tossed past us, onto the floor.
Behind me, in one careful motion, she returned to her position
against my back, but now she was naked, stretching fully beside me,
her legs alongside mine. I looked at Martha, who simply looked back
as before, patiently. Then I felt Ronnie's head near mine, her lips
near my right ear, and she touched my shoulder and whispered, "I'm
okay." She leaned into my back again, the fingertips of one hand
settling gently and delicately on my shoulder, and I turned a little
to glance at her, and she gave me a small, assuring smile, her eyelids
lowered and her eyes glancing first at mine, and then at my mouth,
and she whispered again, "I'm okay."
I looked down at Martha's flat tummy and spread legs and at my
palm covering her pussy. I pressed gently again, making a small
circle on her, and another, and then started a slow rhythm of pressing
and circling. Another soft breath slowly left her, and her eyes
closed again, and she whispered, "Good, Steven." While I massaged
Martha's mound I was surprised to feel a new sensation on my shoulder;
Ronnie touched her lips to the taut flesh on my shoulder's ridge and
let them linger there, then she whispered into my ear, "Did you like
that?" I nodded. I murmured, "Mm. Nice lips." Looking back at
Martha, I saw her eye me slyly before she closed her eyes again. I
continued massaging her, feeling her slit wider and wetter under my
palm. In the flickering light I saw Ronnie rest a hand on my thigh
just above my knee. It was an electric sensation; she did not rest
her palm on me, but propped her fingers on her long nails against my
flesh. More blood rushed to my cock; I could the feel the blood flow
as clearly as I could feel the slight pressure of her nails. I bent
down to plant a soft kiss on one of Martha's nipples, and Martha
sighed quietly and then I kissed the second nipple and gave it a brief
suck and Martha sighed again, almost inaudibly. I raised my head and
watched her, holding my hand still for a moment. I turned my hand
around, palm down, my fingers toward her opening. Her closed eyes
winced mildly, tensing, and she whispered, "Yes." Gently, I cupped
Martha's mound, my fingers pointing downward, and I pressed my palm
into her and made a slow circle, then another, and then I bent my
middle finger and probed past her thick, wet labia and her breath
wobbled as my finger slowly entered, easily, and her wet flesh closed
around it. I held my finger still, letting her get used to it (and
letting my very excited, sensitized finger get used to it). When her
cunt relaxed, my finger searched for and found the secret spot inside
her and pressed and massaged it. Her knees rose a bit, letting her
thighs fall open farther until the tendons lengthened visibly, and
her head went back into the floor a little and she breathed, "Mmm" and
I massaged her secret, internal place for a moment until I felt her
cunt clenching again. I withdrew my finger and touched her clit
lightly and made a small circle on it, and she let a quick breath of
pleasure escape. I inserted my finger again. Then, very slowly, I
slid my finger in and out, in and out, and then I withdrew as if in
slow motion and made a circle on her clit again, and another, and then
I inserted my finger again and, slowly I let my middle finger fuck
her. Martha swallowed hard, gave a quiet "Oh," and her head leaned
back a little farther into the floor.
I heard Ronnie breathe behind me and for a while the only sound in
the room was the two women breathing while I fingerfucked Martha.
Then Ronnie, leaning a little more into me, snaked her arm around my
thigh and let her palm trace a light path across my tummy, and she
briefly let her palm rest on my stomach. Then with two fingers she
reached up and held my cock, and squeezed once. I gasped. Against my
ear, Ronnie's soft, throaty voice whispered, "You all right?" I let a
out a whoosh of air and whispered back, "Careful," and she whispered,
"Okay." I continued letting my finger leisurely fuck Martha's very
wet opening, and after a few strokes she opened her eyes and smiled at
me and looked down to watch Ronnie's two fingers on my cock. Then
Ronnie's other three fingers closed on me, holding me loosely. Just
as I was recovering from Ronnie's initial touch, Ronnie lifted the
index finger of her hand and dipped it into the dew on my tip. I saw
Martha grin down at Ronnie's hand on me, and I felt Ronnie grin
against my shoulder. Had it not been for Martha's exhausting blowjob
so recently, I would have sprayed the ceiling with cum.
Martha reached down to still my hand on her. She looked at me and
bit her lower lip and whispered, "Not yet." Gripping my hand, she
swallowed and relaxed with a long breath and repeated, "Not yet." She
grinned, blushing, and said, "You learn fast," and Ronnie whispered at
my ear, her voice breathy and thick, "Yes, he does." Martha glanced
past me at Ronnie and asked, "Ronnie?" Ronnie raised her head from my
shoulder and said, "Me, now?" Martha joked, "Well, now that we made
Steven look ridiculous, and we made me look ridiculous..." Ronnie let
go of my cock and said, "Well, then, making *me* look ridiculous won't
be such a stretch." She sat up so I could move around.
I withdrew from Martha, embarrassed as I swished my wet finger dry
against my hip, and turned to Ronnie. She scooted back to give me
room to turn around, and I saw her trade a furtive glance with Martha.
Ronnie lay back with one arm draped over her forehead and the other
across her smooth tummy and hip bones. She had a languid look on her
face, her eyes sleepily voluptuous, and I smiled back bashfully when I
saw her eyes glance at my bobbing cock as I turned toward her. I
shifted to my other side and made a big show of wetting my hands with
lotion, noticing that they trembled slightly. I hoped the others
didn't see. I knew, of course, what was happening. What was happen-
ing, I was certain, was that I was still napping under the sun on Fire
Island and that this was a dream. I would wake and the ocean would be
there and Martha and Ronnie would be sleeping on their towels, both in
their swimsuits and me in my cutoffs. That's what my shaky hands and
swirling brain told me was surely, surely happening. Martha rolled
onto her side and leaned on one elbow and watched me put my lotioned
hands on each side of Ronnie's lower ribcage. I held my palms still
on Ronnie, letting her body get used to my hands and letting my hands
enjoy the luxurious feel of her sinuous torso, of creamy skin like
thin silk over an inner Ronnie.
Hesitantly, I spread lotion on her sides and waist. Did she want
what I had just given Martha? How far was I supposed to go? My shaft
settled against Ronnie's thigh and throbbed once against her soft heat.
My hands felt the sensations of a new, different female body, a body
even softer and warmer than Martha's. Ronnie's warm flesh felt less
substantial and not as firm as Martha's but was tempting nevertheless,
baby-soft skin overlaying a firmness underneath, skin that seemed to
melt under my hand and cling to my palm. I rubbed lotion into her
shoulders and gradually extended the length of my strokes downward,
approaching her breasts, softly swollen globes sloping a little to
each side as they rested on her supple flesh. I massaged around them,
quickly lotioning her tummy and hips. Then I got more lotion on my
hands and rubbed it into the length of one leg, slowing to a brief
caress as the stuff soaked in, and then I wet my hands and finished
the other leg in the same way. Then I wet my hands again and watched
her relaxed face and closed eyes as I caressed the swells of her
breasts again, slowly. She kept her eyes closed sleepily. With both
hands I stroked her breasts lightly, top to bottom, and searched her
face. She made no move. Keeping my eyes on her face, I covered her
attractive melons with my palms. Eyes still closed, she gave no sign
of either resistance or pleasure. I kneaded her titties gently, then
began a slow, circular massage. Still, no reaction. Behind me,
Martha slowly moved and settled on her legs beside me, then leaned
against me and watched. Getting no reaction from Ronnie either way,
I wondered if she were just more moderate in her responses than Martha
or if I simply used a boring technique. It occurred to me that
Ronnie's body and reactions were entirely new to me; I'd have to learn
about her from scratch.
I stopped massaging and let my palms rest on her. I waited a bit,
then I let my fingers slide off her tits and decided to use a single
hand for a while. But where to start? Ribs and sides were too
ticklish, I guessed. My eyes settled on her long, smooth, soft neck.
The vague shadow of a vein was visible along one side of its length.
I placed my fingers there, mid-neck, and let them rest a moment, and
barley touching her skin I let my fingers slowly trace down, following
the vein's path toward her prominent collarbone, the bone made more
obvious because her arm on her opposite side was stretched over her
forehead, and I let my fingers travel smoothly and slowly down her
neck and over the clavicle, inching downward, straight toward a
distant nipple but stopping short of her breast. Then I repeated the
motion, starting mid-neck and taking the same route. Sure enough, as
my fingers unhurriedly approached her breast I saw her gulp. My
fingertips had not yet reached her tit. I paused. Then I lifted my
hands and placed my fingertips on her neck again and let them trace
the same path again, even more slowly and lightly, and drew them past
the clavicle and then very slowly down to the breast and straight down
the center of it, aiming for her stiff nipple, slowing more, and then
avoiding the nipple and curving around and under the soft tit's gentle
swell. I saw the barely visible, fine hairlets rise on her arm, and I
thought: pay dirt! I let my tips rest beneath her nipple, and then I
removed my hand and reached for the lotion and wet my fingertips a
little and then I used my wet fingertips to start at the clavicle just
above her other breast. I lightly caressed downward toward her breast
and then onto the breast, and then toward the nipple, but then I
curved around and made a wet, sliding circle around it, and then
around it again, and then I lightly spread the remaining lotion around
and around on the swell under her nipple. I was rewarded with the
sight of her dark nipple swelling slightly but visibly. I let a
single fingertip circle languidly just under the nipple, not touching
it, until my finger felt dry. Then I removed my hand and got the
lotion bottle, seeing Martha beside me give me a furtive smirk. I wet
the fingertips of one hand and held the hand over Ronnie's swollen tit
and let the fingertips settle onto the breast, the standing fingers
forming a wide circle around the darkly tipped swell, but not touching
the raisin-like nipple. Then I softly drew my wet fingers closer
together, not squeezing, but gliding closer on the swell until they
made a smaller circle around the brownish aureole, leaving the nipple
untouched and in suspense, and several times I made this gentle,
nearly milking motion on her, and I saw her throat swallow again, and
I felt Martha nod approvingly beside me. And then I gently brought my
fingers closer together until they surrounded the nipple, nearly
touching, and I paused. I looked at her face and saw that she was
holding her breath. Then I let my still wet fingers close on the
nipple, drawing the nipple into them, and I held the captured nipple
still, and I heard her exhale, long and slow, and I knew I was on the
right track. I removed my fingers and got the lotion bottle, and
Martha watched me, smiling, her smile and her smoky eyes looking
pleased with the results. I wet the tips of both fingers and made
cones of them and placed both my hands over Ronnie's breasts and at
the same time I performed the caressing, milking motion, not touching
her nipples yet. I took my time, letting both fingers learn the shape
and feel of Ronnie's globes; they sloped lower than Martha's and were
less solidly round, but Ronnie's were more yielding and puffy and
moist. They were truly touchable tits. Martha leaned her head
against my arm and softly ran her palm up and down it as she watched.
Then, while my fingertips were still slightly wet I let my fingers
close the circle, capturing each nipple, and then I closed the wet
fingertip cones around her nipples and gently squeezed and pulled,
with a slow rhythm. Her neck tensed.
Martha leaned against me and whispered softly, "She likes you to
pinch them a little." I craned my head toward Martha and asked, "How
do you know?" and Martha said, "She told me." So I let my fingertips
pull and squeeze steadily, more purposefully, and with her eyes still
shut Ronnie whispered, "More," and I squeezed more firmly but care-
fully, and she whispered, "Like that," and I squeezed a little more,
steadily, and her head went back a little and her lips parted, and she
whispered again, "Yes," and I held her nipples that way for a moment
and let her enjoy it. I felt Martha smile against my arm and I
glanced at her and saw her eyes focused on Ronnie's quietly contented
face. Then slowly I let my fingers relax, and Ronnie's tense neck
slackened and she let out a long breath. I removed my hands and got
the lotion bottle again. Ronnie rested, her swollen aureoles and
teased nipples jutting straight up. Then with both hands I repeated
the entire routine again, with the gentle fingertip strokes closing
around the brown aureole, making her wait a little longer before
squeezing the dark buds, and I held the squeeze longer, until she
gasped weakly, then I eased the pressure and let go of her and got
more lotion.
I decided to give Ronnie a little taste of what she had given me.
I lay my hands on each side of her tummy for a moment, then rubbed the
lotion in a little, and she allowed her arm that was draped over her
tummy to drift onto the floor. Then I let my fingertips skitter over
her tummy and navel, and she sucked her tummy in and said, "Wow. Mm."
I let my hands slow and then let them linger momentarily just above
her pubic curls, hopefully making her think my fingers were on my way
downward. Then I removed my hands and got more lotion. But instead
of working her tummy I applied lotion to the outside and tops of her
long thighs. I spent some time there, making my motions as innocuous
and, hopefully, as predictable as I could. Soon I began working more
slowly and more lightly and tantalizingly along her inner thighs be-
side her knees and then above them, and then with long feathery
strokes I made the first approach upward along the inside of her
thighs. She drew her breath in. I looked up. She lay with her head
turned to one side, eyes closed, one arm still draped over her
forehead, but gave no sign of stopping me. I moved my fingers higher
along her thigh. I knew Martha was watching, leaning against my back,
and adding to my giddiness was an oddly pleasurable fascination when I
discovered that Ronnie's slender but shapely thigh was so slim and
delicate that my hand could wrap itself almost halfway around it. I
held my palm there, fingers spread and draped loosely around her
shapely flesh, and I couldn't help but whisper, "Feels nice, Ronnie."
Eyes closed, she swallowed. I let my palm savor her skin. Then I
let my palm and spread fingers slide up and down an inch, and paused.
I did it again. I did it yet again, moving up an inch higher and
waiting. Then Martha's hand stopped moving on my arm as I eventually
neared Ronnie's center. I stroked the tender flesh on the uppermost
part of the inside of Ronnie's thighs with short, slow caresses of my
fingers, each short stroke sneaking a little higher, as her strokes
had done on my own thighs. Gradually my fingers stroked up and down,
higher, to the inside of her thigh where it joined her crotch. I
felt my dick jerk when I saw her legs slide apart a little, and the
arm across her forehead slipped away and her head swayed to the other
side, and I stroked a little higher, and her lips parted again. I
shorted and lightened the strokes, my fingers now high and near the
join of thigh and pelvis, and her legs parted a little more, getting
lewdly spread now. On one brief stroke I let my hand graze the stray,
soft, glistening black curls just alongside the upper part of her
cunt, and her hips gave a small twitch and she uttered a faint, barely
audible "Oh." I paused, removing one hand but letting the other hand
remain, resting palm-down on her upper thigh near her hip, my fingers
slanted toward her pussy. Then I just waited. Her face softened and
she seemed to relax, her eyes closed as if in sleep. I looked at her
resting groin. She did not have a prominent, ovular mound like
Martha; Ronnie's pubic thatch was less of a bush and more a slender,
soft, curly, whorled feather of short black hair that partially cov-
ered her mons and extended thinly down each side of her slit. Her
pussy was a modest swell furrowed by a long, thin, vertical slit of
slight, soft, wrinkly flesh, the outer folds just beginning to part
and glisten. I waited a few seconds. I let my palm on her upper
thigh make a slow circle, then another, and on one wide sweep I let my
fingertips graze her wet outer lips once as I moved up and alongside
her pubic swell. I let my fingers stray against her slit again and
sensed a fluttering under the flesh of her thighs. She was holding
her breath periodically, letting it out and in skittishly. I
thought: she needs a little preparation first, give her some time --
and give myself some time.
I lifted my hand and scooted up a little on my side, my hips
higher beside Ronnie's torso, and Martha followed me and watched with
her face against my shoulder as I extended my arm downward and placed
my palm on Ronnie's tummy. I held it there gently, quietly, for
several long seconds, until she seemed more tranquil. Tentatively, I
turned my palm downward, as I had with Martha. My fingers sloped
toward her cunt. I knew from both women the power of a pause that
could be both comforting and tempting. I also knew I needed that
moment of reassurance more than Ronnie did. I slid my hand down until
my fingertips touched her dark, silky hair. With my palm I made a
little circle that moved farther down, covering her patch, and I
rested there. Then I wondered how to get farther. My fingertips were
a quarter inch from the top of her cunt. I considered how I might
best tease her. I stood my fingers on their tips, and then I let my
fingertips slide down, slowly, along one side of her slit, down its
length along the tender flesh beside her pussy, and then along the
inside of her thigh. She took a breath in, and held it, and as my
fingers cleared her crotch and slithered down her inner thigh she let
the breath out again. I paused a second, my fingertips enjoying the
soft flesh inside her thigh, then I let my fingers slide up again,
toward her cunt, then slithering along the skin just beside her pussy
and pausing there, and then sliding up her tummy again, and waiting
again; then I let my fingers slide down again along the same path,
traveling a little closer to her slit, and down her thighs. And then
I stroked her thighs with my fingertips, with short strokes down and
longer strokes up, and when my fingers were an inch below her cunt I
spread them, forming a wide V, and I slid my fingers up, each side of
the V bordering her slit, and slid upward and circled in her pubic
hair and then slid the V down, and then along her thighs, and then up
again and made the V more narrow. I could feel moisture as my
fingers rose alongside the fringes of her cunt again. And once more
I trailed my fingers down and then up her thigh, and then I formed the
V along each side of her split, but I paused there. I looked at her.
Her neck was taut, her lips tight. Watching her face, I lifted my
fingers, held them in the air a second, and then I let a single finger
dip down and touch her slit fleetingly, and then each finger would dip
and touch one at a time, timidly, gently, and each finger found her
slit wider and her outer petals unfolding, and each finger touched her
slit briefly in a different spot and withdrew. I saw her mouth open a
little, and her neck tightened. Then I let each finger dip and give
her wet petals a brief stroke with each dip, and she trembled and
gave a small gasp and gasped again. Soon each finger had been wetted
and each finger-stroke was a little longer, half an inch, an inch,
along one side just inside her slit and then along another side, and
near the bottom, and one of the fingers found the small lump that I
guessed was her clit and dabbed it gently, and then stroked, and she
winced. Then I continued the slow, slow, upward one-fingered
strumming of her pussy's lips for dozens of strokes, now and then
allowing her clit some attention, until finally I let the slow finger-
tip graze her clit, again, again, again, and I watched her mouth open
wider and her eyes shut tighter, and I let my finger stroke tauntingly
again and again and again, and soon her hips rose into the air for
a moment and she gave a slight shudder. Then I raised my hand and
stopped. I didn't know how tense her body was until she relaxed
suddenly, with a jolt, and she let air out of her and opened her eyes,
staring at the ceiling, and she closed her eyes again and whispered,
"God." Martha grinned at her and asked, "Like it?" and Ronnie gasped,
"You sure know how get back, don't you?" and I chuckled and Martha
said, "I told you, he's very creative." Ronnie said "Yes," and she
swallowed and started breathing easier. I placed my palm on her
tummy below her navel and rested it there. She opened her eyes and
grinned and whispered, "You devil. I know what you're up to," and I
whispered, "Shhh. Relax," and she said, "Right," and I murmured,
"Close your eyes." She closed her eyes, opening them briefly to give
me a mildly accusing look, and she took a deep breath and we all
rested.
During the wait, Martha sat up and lit a cigarette, and when she
settled against me again, she hugged my arm and sat up on her folded
legs for a moment. She watched Ronnie, and she watched my resting
palm. Then she settled against my arm again. I rose upright,
starting to feel my upper back ache, but too damn excited to care. I
kept thinking: Thank the lord I'd had all that experience with Martha,
or I'd have been a raving maniac by now. But as I looked at Ronnie,
growing placid again under my steady palm, I was overcome with the
urge to please her. The longer I waited with my palm on her, the
better she seemed to look and feel to me. I lifted my palm and let my
fingertips play lovingly in her pubic hair, and when her neck tensed
right away I surmised that she probably expected me to go straight for
her prize -- but I didn't. I slid my palm down and into the corner
between her thigh and her pussy and I let it rest there against her
thigh. Her breath and body eased, and then I used my fingertips to
stroke inside her thighs again, first one thigh and then the other,
avoiding her pussy altogether. Then I used a single finger to trace a
slow, straight line up one thigh, stopping well short of her cunt, and
traced the same path again, and again, always stopping and starting in
the same place, until I saw by her softly closed eyelids that she was
getting used to that movement. Then I switched to the other thigh
and traced a slow, straight path up it in the same way, but when I
reached the point where I would be expected to stop I slowed but kept
going, higher, almost stopping, and then continuing until I was almost
at her slit, and I saw her neck tense in surprise, and then I stopped.
Then I saw that her eyes under her eyelids were moving, and so I let
the lone fingertip rise and then gently move to the bottom of her
slit. Then slowly I swept the finger straight up for the length of
her slit. Her body seemed to melt, and she let a shaky breath out
of her. I lowered the finger to the same place on the same thigh and
repeated the whole movement up her leg, pausing near her slit, and
then repeated the slow stroke all the way along her opening, and she
tensed and I stroked her again, and then again, pressing the finger
into her a little, and then I stroked again, pressing a little harder
and trying to let my finger slip into her channel. But I couldn't
locate the exact point of entry that would allow my finger to slide
into her as easily as I was accustomed to with Martha. I guessed that
she was either not quite ready yet, or she was more used to the rough
ways of other men and was tense, or else she was simply very tight
inside. In any case, I wanted her wetter and more ready than she was.
I stopped stroking and let my palm cover her pussy and allowed it to
rest. She sighed heavily, her mouth and eyelids tense. My palm could
feel that she was, indeed, open and wet. Without moving my other
fingers, I let my middle finger press into the wet lips where I
supposed her opening to be. My middle finger toyed with her there,
gently circling and probing. I searched for the source of her
wetness, finally locating her opening. I let my finger give her some
gentle mini-strokes there, and I found that my finger, just inside her
curling, outer folds, soon drew a small, drippy pool of warm slick-
ness, and so I let my fingertip bathe in it and then nudged the tip
into her. I entered, about half an inch. Ronnie's hips arched and
she gulped. Watching her eyes, I pressed ahead, another quarter inch,
and then met a snug, pulpy resistance. I paused. I thought: Is this
what a virgin's pussy felt like? Surely she wasn't a virgin! Then
Ronnie turned her head toward me and opened her eyes. Her lips were
slightly parted, and I could see that she had her teeth clenched
behind them, but her eyes were unexpectedly dreamy, glazed and hazy.
Martha looked at her and whispered, "Ronnie? Okay?" Ronnie, staring
at me, shakily whispered through her teeth, "Yes." She lifted her
head a little and bent her forearm behind her head and let her head
rest back again and then down below I felt her hips seem to relax, and
as she stared at me her eyes, too, seemed to relax. Then she gave
me a drowsy, sultry smile and she whispered very quietly, "It's okay.
Go ahead."
I watched her eyes and nudged my finger forward. Very gently.
Her eyes remained on mine and she raised her cunt against my hand, and
then her snug pussy just seemed to suck my finger smoothly into her and
I went all the way in and her eyes on mine seemed to liquefy. I let my
finger rest inside her while our eyes studied each other. Her pussy
gripped, then loosened, and I bent my finger and massaged her upper
chamber and her pussy gripped again and her mouth parted a little as if
with a silent Ahh. I paused again, waiting for her inner walls to
slacken, and when she saw that I was going to be patient and careful
with her, she seemed more settled, more sure of me, and her gaze
became one of sensual contentment. While we watched each other, Martha
ran a finger up my arm. I don't think Martha was breathing. Then I
let my middle finger slide out of Ronnie, slowly, getting the unique,
clinging feel of her, and I slowly slid back in, and her eyes watched
me comfortably, and I pulled out very slowly and went back inside
again, and her pussy was indeed snug but very, very wet and my finger
moved with no effort, so I began to fingerfuck her that way, slowly
and searchingly, and she looked down to watch my finger.
After a moment she gripped my finger tightly inside and I acknow-
ledged the sensation with a smile and she looked at me and said, "Feel
that?", and I nodded and said, "Hmm. I feel you feeling me," and her
eyes glinted and she whispered naughtily, "Feels good," and she looked
down and watched me do it to her. Martha raised onto her folded legs
beside me and watched Ronnie, and she and Ronnie traded a quick glance
and a smirk, and the three of us were joined by our eyes and our
grins. Ronnie smiled at me mischievously and mouthed the words, "This
is so bad." My finger found that she was narrower than Martha,
smaller, less slick but more clinging. After a few strokes I held my
finger still and she relaxed again, her arm behind her head and her
eyes closing once more, and she sighed a pleased, "Mmm." I pulled my
finger out but left my palm on her. Then my finger searched for her
clit. It was located somewhat higher in her slit, and was short and
smallish but hardening. I made a circle directly on it and Ronnie's
body seemed to sink into the floor and her thighs moved wider apart
and she breathed "Oh." I circled her clit again and then again and
she looked at me, and I made several circles on it. Ronnie's half
closed eyes narrowed into dark slits and she whispered seethingly,
"So good." Martha moved from me and lay on her tummy with her head
near Ronnie's and asked, "Is he doing it right?" and Ronnie looked
down at my circling finger and her hips yearned upward gently. Ronnie
whispered "Yeah," then she gulped hard and gasped and said "Ah," and
then she gulped again and said, "Martha...no one ever did this to me.
Not like this." Martha smiled at her and whispered, "Nice, isn't it?"
and Ronnie nodded slowly and looked down at my finger and breathed,
"Oh, yes, it's so...so lewd." I circled her clit and then I extended
my finger and let it slide into her, and her cunt sucked it in. Then
I withdrew my finger and gave her slit a lingering stroke all the way
up and then I returned to slowly circling her clit again. She
trembled and then glanced at me and then she looked back down at my
finger and her hips rose and she gave a quiet hiss of pleasure. She
asked, her voice tense, "Where in the world did you learn to do
this?" Martha didn't say anything. I answered impishly, "Self
taught," and Ronnie grinned nervously and watched my finger and said,
"Yeah. Right." Then her grin faded and she watched my finger bend
and unbend as it nestled in her slit and circled her nub, and she let
her knees raise a little and let her legs fall completely open and
whispered quickly, "Slower" and then more pleased, "Yeah. Slower,"
and she watched my finger and whispered, "Mmm, that's so erotic. It's
getting me hot." I watched her grow more tense as it got better and
better for her and she clenched her teeth and gave a low "ssss."
After a few more circles I held my hand still for a moment, then I
then slid my finger into her and held it there, and her hips quieted
and she took in a long breath. I remained still to let her know I was
finished for the moment. After the sensuous torture I'd received from
these two women, I wasn't going to let either of them off so easily.
PART 12D:
When Martha saw I'd stopped she rose upright and put a hand on
Ronnie's shoulder, and Ronnie let her head fall back and closed her
eyes and sighed. I watched her rest for a moment, and then I withdrew
my wet finger and put my palm on Ronnie's tummy. She opened her eyes
and looked at me, her eyes intense and edgy. I smiled and asked,
"Okay with you if we stop?" She didn't say anything, didn't blink her
eyes. She smirked, but her eyes didn't change.
She laid one hand on the back of my hand that rested on her tummy.
She whispered softly, "Unfair question."
Martha leaned down a little, frowning playfully. "Hm? What are
you two talking about? Did I miss something?"
Ronnie turned her head upward, looking into Martha's face above
her, and then at me again. She sighed resignedly. "Martha's turn."
Martha leaned closer to her from above and asked in a soft voice,
grinning, "Was it good?"
Ronnie looked up at her again. She said lazily, seeming a little
drunk, "Martha. It was good. Really good. You know what I mean? I
mean...you know...dark good." And Martha's voice lowered, and she and
Ronnie eyed each other with that secret look I often saw them share,
and Martha asked her quietly, "Dark, hon?" Ronnie nodded yes and
Martha asked, "Like you were talking about?" Ronnie nodded again, and
I just watched them, wondering what the hell this secret language was
all about, and Martha whispered, "See?" And they looked at each other
and I saw Ronnie blush like crazy and Martha grinned at her, and then
Ronnie reached up with her arms and Martha leaned down and they hugged
as best as they could for a brief moment in that clumsy position with
Martha hovering over Ronnie's head from behind. Martha rose again
and brushed the hair from her forehead and smiled down at Ronnie. For
me, although I didn't comprehend much of their secretive exchange, it
was intoxicating to see two lovely, naked young women sharing whatever
secret they shared. Ronnie patted my hand on her tummy and smiled at
me and said, "It's all right to stop, then." I smiled at her and said,
"Your eyes say it's all right, so it must be true."
I straightened up and rose onto my knees, and wiped the thin film
of sweat from my forehead. I looked down at Ronnie resting in the
candlelight. The dim room smelled of flesh and lotion and sweat and
sensuality. The yellow, flickering candle flame, Ronnie's open thighs
and languid pose, Martha's graceful nudity only inches away from me...
I still could not believe it.
I looked at Martha and she looked at me. I stretched my neck and
leaned forward on my arms and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. After
I kissed her, Martha looked into my eyes for a moment and put her hand
on my cheek and touched, barely touched, her lips to mine again. Then
she slid onto her side and extended her legs beside me and lay on her
back and stretched out. She beckoned me with her finger. I shifted to
my other side and leaned over her, my eyes asking her what she wanted,
and she cupped her right breast for me. She whispered, "Lips, hon." I
craned my neck down and licked, and she whispered again, "Lips." I
made leisurely glides across her breast with my inner lips and Martha
sighed, "Yes." On my left, Ronnie sat up and ran a hand through her
ruffled hair and then rose to sit on her knees near Martha's shoul-
ders. I settled onto my tummy, nestling alongside Martha, and
returned my lips to her breast. I felt Ronnie watching us.
Martha said, "He does this so well."
Ronnie said, "He looks so peaceful," and I chuckled with Martha's
nipple in my mouth.
Martha said, "He really likes this," and Ronnie told her, "You
look as if you like it, too," and Martha said, "Oh, yes. I really
love for him to do this. His mouth's very good to me." Martha cupped
her other breast and I mouthed and licked and sucked it. She bent
down to kiss my forehead and said, "He doesn't have to tell me how he
likes this, his mouth tells me."
Ronnie settled on her folded legs and asked Martha, "Did he used
to do this to you?"
And Martha grinned, still watching me, and said coyly, "Mm...a
long time ago." Martha stroked my hair and said, "It's very comfort-
ing. It's almost...innocent."
Ronnie said, "You two are so sweet with each other."
Martha glanced at her and asked, "Hasn't anyone ever done this for
you?"
Ronnie said, "Well...not like that." Ronnie watched us, mildly
incredulous at first, and then her face seemed to soften as if she
were thinking warmly about something, and she whispered, "That is so
loving, Steven." Ronnie watched for a moment, and Martha's pleasure
was bringing heat to her breasts in my mouth and to her breathing.
Ronnie said, "He seems to know what you want."
Martha said, "He listens to my body. Or sometimes we would just
talk, and I'd tell him what I want. A guy ought to learn how to please
you the way you want." She looked down at my suckling mouth and said,
"He gets pleasure from pleasing me."
I tenderly sucked and licked, moving to another nipple.
Still watching, Ronnie leaned back against the foot of the nearby
sofa. She drew her long, tanned legs up and folded them with her knees
near her chest and. She fished for her cigarettes at her side and lit
up. Then she watched silently while Martha stroked my shoulders and
told me to suck her nipple using just a little pinch of my tongue and
teeth. It was all very, very strange, especially since I knew that
Martha had lied straight-out about our relationship. I wondered if
Ronnie was thinking about me and Martha. I wondered how far this was
going. I wondered if I could keep from exploding if I got any
harder.
Ronnie didn't speak for a while, and Martha looked up at her and
said, "Don't you think it's nice to just talk to someone's body with
your mouth? I mean, we get so little tenderness, so little attention.
And hardly ever with loving lips, like this."
I heard Ronnie exhale and say softly, "Yes. It is nice. I didn't
think guys did that."
Martha said, "Of course they do. Some do."
I nursed at Martha while her breathing deepened and both pink
nipples distended stiffly, then I moved my lips from her nipples and
planted stray kisses on her neck and then her ribs. Martha said,
"Mmm, that's nice." She planted a wet, wet kiss on my shoulder, and
then she raised my head and shoulders and I sat up a little and she
began kissing and sucking my nipples as I had done to her. While she
did that, I heard Ronnie quickly crush her cigarette in the ashtray,
then I heard a rustle of movement, and then Ronnie was sitting behind
me again. Tentatively, she touched my back while Martha loved my
nipples. Then her fingernails were on my back, on me so lightly they
were like tiny pricks of imagined pins, and then her lips touched my
left shoulder, lingering. Then Ronnie let her lips slither, slow and
damp, in a little circle, and then pause, then her tongue-tip emerged
from the lips and the wet tip made a slow path across my upper back
from left to right, her touch so light it was like an airy sliver of
damp lip moving. I closed my eyes and my head tilted back reflexive-
ly. Then her lips again gave my back slow kisses and nips, lips
lingering and then parting stickily. I found myself thinking: She's
good, she's really good. More cum oozed to my tip. Despite all my
experience with Martha, I knew I could not long withstand tender
attacks from front and rear by two sets of wetly magic lips. I was
on the verge of hopping atop both women, then and there.
I sat up and shifted onto my side a bit, Ronnie's lips leaving me,
and I began to stroke Martha's breasts and nipples and whispered,
"You're getting very warm." She smiled and whispered back, "You too."
I licked her nipple, and along my back I felt the heated pressure of
Ronnie's palm resting there. I felt bolder. What the hell, if Ronnie
was going to be shocked out of her senses and take off in a huff, it
may as well happen now. I was getting too horny to worry about it.
I began moving my head down Martha's ribs with short licks and
pinching kisses. Then I licked her tummy and looked up at her from
the corner of my eyes, and she grinned and she gave me a soft
"Mm-hm." I moved lower until my mouth found her tuft and I licked her
fuzz and I felt Martha moving her knees apart. I lifted my hips and
legs above her, and as I lifted and settled my body between her thighs
she grinned at me wickedly and whispered "Yes" and opened her thighs
until her feet were nearly joined under my chest. Ronnie sat up on
her haunches near Martha's shoulders and watched silently, her eyes
growing darkly intense, as I dipped my tongue into Martha's navel and
licked lower and lower. And then I lost sight of Ronnie as I licked
Martha's tuft and nuzzled it with my lips and tongue. Then I moved to
her upper thighs and licked and kissed teasingly upward, and Martha
reached down with one hand on the back of my neck and gently guided me
up, up, and I slowed my kisses until my mouth was over her slit and
she whispered, "There." I extended my tongue to her slit, still
absolutely certain that none of this was happening, none of it, and I
let my tongue just touch the slit and I licked upward and her fingers
tightened on the back of my neck, and she brought my face closer to
her cunt. I licked again and I heard Martha, as if far away, breathe
a long, gratified breath of pleasure. I let my eyes look up as I
licked her again and Martha's head dropped back and she smiled toward
the ceiling. Then Ronnie uttered with a hushed voice, "Martha...
nobody ever did *that* to me, either," and Martha sighed as I did it
again and then she gave a slow, low moan as I gave another long lick.
I saw Ronnie watch me as I repeated the long introductory licks and as
I settled my tongue in the gap between the firm ledges of Martha's
slit and began making small circles around her clit with my tongue's
tip. Martha tilted her head and looked down at me with a pleased
smirk.
Ronnie leaned forward on her arms, her head near Martha's, and
watched no longer with surprise but with growing involvement, her dark
blue eyes looking ever darker. She seemed to say with her eyes that
she saw it all, saw every lick; and through her eyes Ronnie seemed to
join us, her lips parting, her gaze deepening sultrily, as if her eyes
could feel what they saw. Ronnie extended her legs behind her and
settled onto her tummy with her head near Martha's head, and she and
Martha traded secret glances again. Their glances were interrupted
when I gave Martha's clit a gentle, preliminary suck, and Martha winced
and gasped suddenly. Ronnie grinned at her and said, "I bet that feels
really good," and Martha gasped again and said "Oh, it's...so very
good." And Ronnie asked, "What does that feel like?" Martha chuckled
nervously, and she swallowed with mounting pleasure, and she said,
"Ronnie, I have no idea how to describe this!" Ronnie glanced at me
and said "Steven, no fair," and Martha said, beginning to sound breath-
less, "Take it easy, Ron. You'll get yours." Ronnie said, "I wouldn't
know what to do, I've never done this," and Martha gasped as I worked
and she said, "Just tell him what you like." Ronnie said, watching my
tongue slide up and down Martha's slit, "I wouldn't know what to tell
him," and Martha said, "Don't worry, he'll figure it out," and she
gripped the back of my neck as my tongue licked and pressed. Ronnie
said almost absently, watching from Martha's viewpoint as my mouth
brought Martha closer to release, "Somebody tried it once, but they
just got tired, I guess, and they didn't do it this way..." Ronnie
looked directly at my eyes and asked, "Doesn't your mouth get tired?"
I shook my head no, which was not easy to do without interrupting
Martha's pleasure, but I managed to keep at her, and I heard Martha
sigh a quick "Ah," and her head fell back and she gasped, "Oh! He
does it just right."
I licked around and around her clit, and then I let my tongue
pause before I let it lick her clit directly, with a slight pressure,
up its length. Then I repeated it, feeling Martha stiffen. Then I
put my lips around her clit and sucked, and then licked when I sucked,
and Martha's hand tightened on my neck. I gave her a long, steady
suck, without licking, and felt her thighs tighten and tremble. Then
I let my lips loosen, and licked her slowly a few times, then I let my
tongue pause on her. I hadn't let Ronnie get away so easily, and I
knew Martha liked to prolong this act, so I was ready to give Martha a
breather while I tortured Ronnie for a while. After a minute I made a
motion to rise. But Martha held my head and said dreamily, "Wait, hon,
wait a minute...a little more. Just a little," and Ronnie grinned at
Martha and asked, "It's that good?" Martha said "God, yes." And
Ronnie whispered softly, "Dark good?" and Martha nodded yes, gasping.
After another brief moment under my slow licking Martha patted me on
the shoulder and said breathlessly, "Okay, hon." I stopped and she
caught her breath and I moved up her torso and hugged her. She kissed
my neck and lay limp, panting. Her eyes were opaque with lust, and
she seemed in a trance. She fixed her eyes on mine and whispered,
"Be good to Ronnie."
Ronnie's eyes searched mine and smoldered with both anticipation
and apprehension as she lay back and draped her arms around her head.
I rolled to my other side and leaned over her and tenderly kissed the
hollow in her throat, a new place and a new pleasure for me as my lips
explored Ronnie's soft, pliable flesh. I kissed her small, slender
left shoulder and her arms came around my neck and as my lips moved
across her collarbone she offered her other shoulder to my mouth. I
licked the proferred flesh, my lips seeming to sink into hot softness
over warm bone, and then I nipped at her long throat, and she bent her
head back and stretched her neck and breathed "Ahhh" as I kissed her
there. Then I licked and nipped my way to her left breast and found
that she was smaller than Martha and I could take most of Ronnie's tit
in my mouth. I did so, and tongued the sloping underside, laving the
marshmallowy flesh side to side for a while, and then circling around
the nipple slowly, and then licking up and down the nipple. Then I
held the nipple on my tongue and pressed it against my upper lip and
sucked, steady, and licked and sucked again. It stiffened as I
pinched more firmly against my lip and bothered it with my tongue, and
Ronnie twitched enjoyably and crooned, "Yeah. That's the way." While
I pleasured Ronnie's breasts Martha moved to kneel beside her, and
Ronnie said, her voice lazily sensual, "Martha, this is really good,"
and Martha whispered "Yeah?" and Ronnie looked down at my mouth on her
nipple and whispered "Yeah." She lay her head back and whispered
sleepily to the ceiling, "You're right, he knows. How does he know?"
and Martha whispered, "I don't know." Ronnie's hand that was on my
shoulder gave me a little shake. She whispered playfully, "Hey. Hey,
you, how do you know?" Smiling with my teeth on her nipple I shrugged
my shoulders, and Ronnie and Martha smiled and sniggered for a moment.
But Ronnie's attention soon returned to the enjoyment of having her
nipples sucked.
I continued mouthing and drawing on her nipples, listening to
Ronnie's easy breath for signals until I heard her breath start to
wobble a bit. And although I relished the newness and the unique feel
of Ronnie's hard dark nipple and her warm, serpentine arms that coiled
around my head and shoulders as she cradled me to her, I began to slowly
lick and kiss my way down her torso. She tensed a little and caught her
breath and her tummy sucked in as I kissed around her navel, and then I
started kissing below her navel and she whispered warily, "Steven..."
But I slid my lips farther down, and I kissed humid tummy flesh, and
kissed lower, feeling soft hair at my chin, and I licked, and licked
again, and she gasped. Her hands moved to my shoulders, and she
started breathing nervously, and she whispered, "Steven." I continued
licking downward and she said again tremulously, "Steven...," and
Martha asked, "What's wrong, hon?" Ronnie gulped and said, "Nobody
ever did this for me. Nobody got me this far." Martha said, "He's
being good to you, Ronnie. Pleasing you pleases him." Ronnie grit her
teeth and gasped and watched as I licked the silken curls above her
mound, and I found that her mild scent was like sage. I was prepared
to stop if Ronnie wanted me to, but then I felt her relax again and she
seemed to be waiting. I moved to kiss her inner thigh, and I ached
inside with the realization of how different and moist and clingy her
skin was there, and I inched my lips closer to her cunt. She tensed
again and gripped my shoulders.
I raised my eyes to see her looking at me. Her eyes were wary and
she breathed quickly. But she made no move to stop me. I tentatively
licked along the edge of her slit. She stiffened and smiled timidly,
waiting, her eyes watching mine. I licked again and her pelvis lifted
and fell, and I extended the tip of my tongue and delved gently into
her slit and gave her a long lick upward that ended with a caress
along the short length of her clit. Her eyes softened and she
whispered hotly through her teeth, "That's so nice!" I began making
circles around her clit with my tongue, around and around and around
and she smiled ecstatically and her eyelids fell drunkenly and she
sighed, "Oh, yes...Oh, honey, yes." She gently bit her lower lip and
arched languidly and irregularly under my mouth while I licked. Then
I stopped licking, and cradled her clit on my tongue and clamped my
lips together and gave her clit a long, gentle suck, and she gasped
"Oh!" and then her thighs fell wide apart and she tilted her pelvis
up a little and offered her cunt more urgently to my mouth, and she
grit her teeth and gasped and she hissed, "Oh, it's so good!" Martha
laid a hand on Ronnie's trembling shoulder. I paused to suckle her
clit again and Ronnie sighed a quick, steamy "Ahh!" and her breathing
and her voice grew tense and shaky and her eyes opened and found mine
again. She gulped, licking her lips nervously, and said, "It's not
you, it's--" She swallowed hard and said, "Steven, the only person
who ever made me cum was me." As I sucked, my eyes gazed past her
tummy and past her heaving breasts and into her pleading eyes, and I
could feel her arms tremble and her thighs tremble and her breath
tremble. She whispered, needfully, insistently, "Don't leave me
hangin', honey. Don't. It's not okay to stop." And I winked at her
reassuringly as I licked, not wanting to break the rhythm I'd found
with her, and Martha told her earnestly, "He won't, hon. He won't."
And Ronnie swallowed hard again, and moved one hand from my shoulder
and her hand shook a little as she wiped sweat from her upper lip.
And her narrowed eyes looked into mine, her eyes fuming with need and
worry. I winked again, and then she gripped my shoulders again with
both hands and hissed softly through her teeth, "Be good to me."
I had covered her cunt with my mouth, and now I flattened my
tongue along her slit, and nudged my tongue back and forth until her
clit and portal were bared so that I could lick her cunt fully, from
bottom to top. I calculated that Ronnie didn't know her way around
her own orgasm the way Martha did; now that I'd assured Ronnie of
release, I needed all the leeway I could get to learn about her body
and come through for her. My mouth found that she was hot, salty,
syrupy, and the edges of my tongue felt a clear difference between
Martha's smooth, firm labia and Ronnie's fleshy, tasty, hair-fringed
pussy. I gave her a slow, full-tongued lick and Ronnie moaned and
then hissed, and she whispered again through her teeth, "Be good to
me." My tongue stroked longingly and she gulped again, swallowing
loudly with an audible "Nng!" and her eyes closed and her head drifted
back. I could see only her arched throat and her chin. She entreated
me again, this time in a softer whisper, "Be good to me..." Martha
stroked her friend's forehead and whispered sweetly, "He will, hon."
And while I licked rhythmically, searching for her preferences,
Ronnie's thighs opened more and the long tendons inside her thighs
pulsed each time her hungry cunt sought more of my tongue. I found a
pace and pressure she seemed to enjoy immensely. Her hands gripped my
shoulders tighter and I nudged my mouth closer to her, my upper lip
worming through the slight, oily slush of tender petals that hooded
her clit, and my tongue's tip found the tip of her small, slippery
nub. I nestled my lower lip against her clit's root and my tongue
cradled the length of it, and I tightened my lips, and sucked.
Ronnie's throat made a helpless "uh!" sound, and then I softly flicked
my tongue up and down each side of her captured nub and she groaned
weakly and then she whimpered and her body went taut and she made a
very quiet, very surprised little "oh" sound and I kept licking her
that way, and soon I began licking her clit directly, steadily,
pushing upward a little with my tongue and decreasing the pressure as
my tongue's tip neared the mildly pointed tip of her. She moaned
again, her head drifting to the other side, and I felt her clit
blossom and swell with each new tongue-stroke. After a moment she
moaned with a new urgency, "Faster, sweetheart...faster...no, slower,
a little slower...," and then she gasped wondrously, "That's it! Oh
that's it!" and she gulped harder and her voice trailed off with a
rapturous "Oh god that's it." She quivered now and then as I sucked
her clit and flicked my tongue with the speed she liked, and soon her
wetness dripped over my chin. Frequently her hips would rise and
make a small circle against my mouth, and soon she was doing that
again and then again, and each time it would last a little longer than
before; and I kept my tongue going that way, exactly that way, seeing
and hearing it get better and better for her, and my eyes glanced at
Martha, who glanced back at me, smiling. For what seemed like a long,
long interval I maintained my tongue's same, unvarying technique,
feeling Ronnie's hands on my shoulders tighten and quiver, hearing her
hold her breath for longer and longer spans, hearing her whimper,
sometimes joyfully, sometimes in anguish as she seemed to slide out of
it briefly. But finally, finally, my mouth felt a flow from her, a
sudden widening and palpable softening of her cunt lips around my
mouth. And then she raised her cunt and kept it against my mouth and
for long, long seconds she held her breath and her thighs quivered,
and then she said loudly into the air, as if with sudden, ominous
comprehension, "Oh my god," and she tightened all over again and
moaned hoarsely with the same tone of dread and powerlessness, "It's
gonna happen. Oh my god it's gonna happen," and Martha smiled down
at her and said simply "Mm-hm." And then Ronnie's tummy sucked
inward and her hips rose another inch or so into the air and hung
there and she held her hot, wet opening mashed against my chin and her
little clit was bloated and hard and I knew she was there, so I sucked
and flicked and her whole body jerked and she made a languished,
surprised "Oh" sound as her chin strained upward and her mouth fell
open, and her pelvis nudged upward and froze there and her nails dug
into my shoulders and she cried a soft, rhapsodic, joyful "Yes!" and
then her hips nudged up again and she said "Yes!" again and then
another sweet, bleating, helpless "Yes," and then her hands gripped me
so tightly that her arms trembled. And she came and came, petrified
for several more seconds, her head suspended off the floor and her
mouth open and her nails digging in, and then a prolonged, violent
tremor coursed through her. And finally she jerked and her head lunged
forward and she heaved a loud "Oh!" and her head floated back. Then
she struggled to breathe, her grip on my shoulders loosening, and her
cunt withdrew from me as her climax waned. I knew her clit needed
rest, so I held my tongue motionless against her for a moment, feeling
her clit flutter slightly. Then I raised my head and saw she was a
gasping, panting little girl with her eyes pinched shut as she winced
with exhaustion. I pulled myself up and wiped my wet chin with my
forearm and moved to sit up and lift her by the shoulders and cradle
her against my chest. When I lifted her, her eyes opened for a moment
and she looked confused and blind, and she breathed a nonplussed "Oh!"
and her eyes closed again and her face fell against my shoulder
wearily and her body felt willowy and limp and feverish against me.
I kissed her forehead and eyelids and she raised her slim, soft arms
that felt so good and loving on me and draped them over my neck and
shoulders and rested her face against my chest, and Martha moved to
her other side and stroked her shoulders. Ronnie sagged against me in
a frenzy of weary panting. Smiling bashfully, she wiped her glisten-
ing brow and said, "Whhh!" and then said breathlessly, "Now I know
what I sound like when I cum," and Martha smiled at me and whispered,
"Nice, Steven." I held Ronnie, feeling strong and protective as she
nestled her delicate, heaving, tired body against mine. She closed
her eyes and swallowed and said, her voice a feeble moan, "Steven,
that was so good!" and she took in several long breaths and then
asked, "Did I sound crazy? I must have sounded so crazy." I
answered, "You sounded perfectly happy to me."
PART 12E:
The small, candlelit room seemed untouched by time. The earth
stopped turning. As if in a dense, humid fog of sexuality, I let
Ronnie relax onto her back and gave each of her nipples a gentle suck
for a moment while she lay with her eyes closed, her breath easing.
Then I rose and enfolded Martha in my arms, my sweet, beautiful, sexy
Martha, and we held each other longingly and she lay back on the floor
and opened her legs and smiled, her eyes simmering, and she whispered,
"Lick me, hon. Don't wait, lick me."
I touched my lips to her breastbone and glided my mouth down her
body and felt my cock leave a smear of precum on her leg as I slid
lower. Martha whispered, "I'm so close," and when my face was over her
mound I saw her fingers holding herself open and her voice dripped with
lust and she whispered "Lick me" again and my tongue found that she was
sweltering, slick, and ready. She ground her clit against my tongue
and sighed a low, salacious, breathy "Ahhhh", and I laved her clit with
my tongue and glanced up to find her grinning lewdly as she whispered
"Yes." Ronnie, still a little breathless, crawled to us and lay on her
tummy and rested her hand on Martha's arm.
When I sucked Martha's clit her head fell back and her eyes closed
and her lips mouthed the words "So good," and by the hardness of her
nub -- her hot and sensitive jewel that was bigger than Ronnie's and was
so easy to find and to grip with my lips and that throbbed so strongly
when Martha was close to cumming -- I knew that Martha would be there
soon, so I sucked more lightly and moved my tongue in a wide circle that
surrounded but bypassed her clit. Martha arched her hips and moaned and
I watched her long, elegant neck tense, and Ronnie gazed into Martha's
face lovingly and stroked Martha's arm. I licked and licked, delaying
direct contact on her clit until I knew she was truly ready for her
release. As Martha began to gasp and tremble Ronnie took one of
Martha's hands in hers and gave it a little kiss and stroked it, and I
gave Martha's clit a tighter suck and slowly began the firmer upward
licks right on it, and Martha whimpered and her whole body tightened.
Soon Martha's hand in Ronnie's began to clinch into a trembling fist.
Ronnie gave Martha's hand another little kiss and whispered, "Now I
know what it feels like." And Martha said, her voice taut and tense,
"I'm close...Ronnie, I'm so close! He's keeping me right on the edge.
Oh, so close!" and Ronnie glanced down at me, perplexed, and asked,
"God, Steven, how do you do that?" and Martha whispered, "He just knows,
he knows I love it!" Ronnie grinned at me and said, "Do me that way
next time, Steven." My cock lurched at the thought and I wondered how
long I could keep my mouth and teeth and tongue going, and Martha began
saying more urgently, "Almost there... almost there," and Ronnie
whispered to her "It must feel so good," and Martha winced tightly and
stretched her neck back and showed her teeth with a happy grin and
sighed "Oh, it does," and then she tensed and hissed, "So close," and
then she trembled and hissed again, "So close," and then she gushed,
suddenly and loudly and excitedly "Ohnow now!" and she panted and then
stiffened and held her breath and my cock and my heart swelled with
gladness for Martha because I knew she could no longer resist. I
licked the entire swollen length of her yearning clit, stroking
slowly, and Martha jerked and Ronnie watched her intently and then
Martha whimpered and her head rolled to the side toward Ronnie and
then she made a happy "Ah" sound as she arched and then stiffened
more. Her clit seemed inflamed under my tongue and her hand trembled
on Ronnie's and Ronnie whispered "Yes" and she watched Martha cum.
Then Ronnie's eyes widened, startled, as Martha's mouth fell open and
Martha's whole body trembled once, twice, and again, and Ronnie
whispered "Oh, honey, yes" and stroked Martha's hand, and soon Martha
gave a long, loud, sweet sigh and then a moaning "mmmmm" as she
relaxed and her climax ended. Her clit receded and softened and her
hips twitched once and she started breathing again, and she looked
down and stroked my hair while I cleaned her with my tongue. Martha
gasped, "Nice! Ah, so nice!" I removed my mouth and wiped my jaw
with my hand. I rose, resting on my heels, and Martha lifted her
torso and held my face and kissed me, and Ronnie watched in awe as we
kissed and hugged. Martha kissed my neck and shoulders and held my
face tenderly and kissed me again.
Then Martha looked down and saw my half-wilted cock. She said,
still catching her breath and brushing hair from her face, "My
goodness, what happened to him?"
I was a little breathless after all my work. I said, "He's been
holding back for a while. I guess he gave up."
Ronnie said, "Hey, we can't leave him hanging, can we? Pardon the
pun."
Martha moved her legs out of the way and kneeled beside me, and
Ronnie kneeled in front of me and gave my face and chest damp little
kisses. She paused to sit back, running her nails across the young
brown hair on my chest. She looked up at up me and said, "Here's
where I put in my two cents' worth," and I kidded her, "All I get is
two cents?" She smirked and said, "Just wait." She touched her lips
to my chest and let them linger, then pulled away and settled on her
tummy between my legs with her legs extending away from me. I settled
on my haunches, my torso upright, and looked down at her. Propped on
her elbows, Ronnie reached up with both hands and scraped her nails
across my chest and then down to my tummy and across. She whispered,
"Look, you have young, dark hair." She let her nails toy with my
pubic hair and plucked at it, saying, "And this is nice, too. Just
enough." She trailed her nails upward to my chest again and scraped
back and forth, and she asked, "Are you comfortable, sitting up like
this?" I answered, "Yeah. I get to watch you." She asked, "You
like that?" I looked at her and whispered, "Why not? You're very
pretty." Ronnie blushed, her eyes warming, and she looked past me, up
to Martha who leaned against my shoulder, and she said, "You know,
nobody ever said that to me in a...situation like this," and Martha
teased her, "Well, here's your chance to say thank you." Ronnie
looked at her nails on my chest and said, "This is going to be more
than a little thank-you card." I felt a warm rush in my groin, and as
Ronnie let her nails pass across my chest and pause now and then to
dig in for a second, Martha put her lips on my shoulder and then gave
me a kiss on the neck and I closed my eyes. The only problem I had in
the whole world at that point was that my dick felt lame and my balls
ached.
Ronnie reached up with both hands and held each of my nipples in
her fingers and squeezed. She squeezed harder, and then too hard and
I told her, "Not too much," and she said, "Sorry," and caressed and
then pinched more gently and asked, "That okay?" and I said, "Yeah."
She continued for a moment, and then with one hand she let her nails
caress back and forth and then down, over my tummy, and smoothly down
to my pubic hair and then straight to my root, and then she let her
fingertips trail down the length of my cock and then she held it with
a slight pull, and I closed my eyes, sighing. She let go of me,
shuffling away from me a little so that her head was lower in my lap.
Then she craned her neck forward and put her lips on my tummy, below
my navel, and then licked. I made a small gasp inward and felt my
tummy contract reflexively. Then her lips nipped downward until her
mouth reached my cock. She lifted her head and got comfy on her
elbows and then she held my nearly deflated, confused cock in one
hand, and the bead of cum that had clung there for so long dripped in
a shiny string across her fingers. She said, "Aww." She gave the
tip a little lick. My head I jerked backward and I gave a sudden
grunt, and Ronnie's eyes popped open and she said, "Oh! Still some
life in there." I relaxed with a loud "Whew!' and she looked up at
me and asked, "You okay?" I said, "I think so," and she looked at
my cock in her hand. She let the organ lay in her palm and mused
aloud, "How's he get so long from starting out this small?"
Martha smirked and said, "Funny, I used to ask the same thing."
Ronnie said, "Really?" She scowled at Martha playfully and said,
"I'll bet you have quite a history, you two."
Martha eyed her secretively but didn't say anything. She settled
onto her side beside me and watched Ronnie.
Ronnie studied my cock with a soft, analytical "Mmm," and then she
looked up at me, and while her eyes were on me she put her fingers
around my balls and I moaned, suddenly realizing how painfully
sensitive they were, and she said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Really." She
looked at my cock again and whispered, "I'll have to be more careful."
She wrapped her fingers around me and gave me a mild tug and looked up
at me again. "That feel good?"
I said, "Mm. Very good."
She watched my cock and very, very gently and slowly she let her
hand slide back and forth. "How's that?"
"Yeah. That's nice."
She whispered, looking at my cock, "He starts from here and he
gets so..." She gently and slowly shucked my dick and it began to
swell again.
Martha moved closer to me, on her knees, and brushed the hair from
her face. She watched, glancing at me and smiling and then watching
Ronnie. She said, "Watch out for his testicles. They must be sore
by now."
"Testicles?" Ronnie said, testing the word. "What a stupid word.
Who ever thought up such a word? They're too cute to be testicles."
Her hand stopped and she squeezed gently, watching and smiling as more
precum leaked out. She whispered, "God, you must be so full." She
looked up at me. "Are you?"
I looked down at her. "Am I what? Full?"
"Yeah."
I said, "You better believe it," and Martha laughed and said,
"Well, Ronnie, what do you think?"
She gazed at my cock as it hardened in her gentle hand and then
she looked up at Martha and Martha looked back at her. Their eyes met
with that secret look of theirs.
Then Ronnie said to her simply, "Me."
Martha nodded and said, "Then be good to him." And then Ronnie
encircled my half hard, aching cock with her long hot fingers and she
licked the precum off my tip and I sighed with the pleasure of it.
Ronnie pondered aloud, "Let's see, how's Ronnie gonna be nice to
Steven?" She looked up at me and said suggestively, "Too bad we don't
have any condoms," and I smiled down at her and said, "We can impro-
vise." She asked playfully, "Yeah?" and I grinned back and she teased
softly, naughtily, "Would this be good enough?" and I whispered,
"Yeah," thinking that a hand job at this point would have to do until
I was alone with Martha again. But then Ronnie said, reassuringly,
"When you're ready to cum in my mouth, it's okay." Every hair on my
body stood up. I whispered, "Okay," and Martha added, "He has a nice
clean taste, hon." Ronnie peered at her craftily and asked, "How do
you know that?" Martha gave her that sly smile again and Ronnie said,
"Uh-huh. Holding out on me," and her fingers pulled on me a little
and I tensed and settled more comfortably onto my folded legs and
spread my thighs a little to give her elbows more room. She slowly
put her mouth around my half-hard cock and sucked upward once, popping
me out of her, and I moaned and she looked up at me and then at my
cock again and put her lips around me, and slid downward and paused.
Then, all of a sudden, she started sucking, hard and tight, moving her
head with rapid jerks.
I groaned loudly, "Uh! No," and I held her head still and said,
"Wait a minute," and she lifted off me and looked up questioningly and
Martha said, "Ronnie, what are you doing?" Ronnie said, "What's it
look like I'm doing?" and Martha laughed and said, "Ronnie, when they
say 'suck it off', they don't mean literally!" and I laughed and
Ronnie laughed.
Ronnie said, "I thought that's the way you're supposed to do it,"
and Martha said, "Maybe some men like it rough that way, but Steven
likes it slow and dirty," and Ronnie said, "Oh. Show me." Martha
said, "Come on, be nice to him. When you suck so hard and fast you
squeeze all the blood out of him, and it dulls the nerve endings."
Ronnie said defensively, "That's the way guys told me to do it. They
said hey baby suck the chrome off that thing." Martha said, "Yeah,
big, tough George with the stainless steel dick that wouldn't stay up
more than twenty seconds. Steven's sensitive. Look, start easy, and
real wet. Your mouth should feel wet and soft." Ronnie lifted her
head and said, "So show me," and Martha said impatiently, "Oh, here,
gimme your finger. I feel so silly doing this..." She sucked
Ronnie's finger for a few seconds and Ronnie said, "Oh, yeah, I
see...you don't really suck, you just grip with your tongue. Hmm, if
only my finger could have an orgasm," and she glanced at me and said,
"So that's what you guys feel down there." Martha stopped and said,
"And Steven likes it when your mouth just slides over him, y'know?
I mean don't try to strangle him with your lips." Ronnie looked up
at me and asked, "Ready for a second try?" I nodded yes. She
settled between my legs and licked my tip once or twice and put her
mouth around me and started sucking again, a little slower, and
Martha watched carefully. After a couple of sucks Martha asked me,
"Okay, Steven?" and I stopped gritting my teeth and said, "Yeah,
it's okay, but...uh...," and Martha told Ronnie, "C'mon, Ronnie,
wait a minute."
Ronnie rose and asked Martha to show her again and Martha said
impatiently, "Oh, Ronnie, he's gonna cum before we get anywhere."
Ronnie complained, "Well, show me, I wanna make it good," and Martha
said, "It's not science, it's art. Watch, now. First I get my mouth
really wet and then I cover him so he's, you know, drippy. Watch."
She sucked on her tongue inside her mouth, gathering moisture, and
then she bent down and put her mouth around my tip, circling gently,
and I tensed and hissed. I cautioned, "Mm. Wow. Careful." She
paused, then her mouth enclosed me, fully and gently, and I sighed,
"Ahh," and she started slowly moving up and down. I gasped and said
quickly, "Careful, careful," and Ronnie said, "all right, all right, I get
it." Martha sat up and watched as Ronnie lay down in front of me
again and held my cock. Ronnie muttered, "We'll get this right yet."
She touched her inner lips to my tip for a second and then nipped at
it. My cock arched. She let her lips glide wetly around the corona,
and I heard my own breath quicken, and she closed her lips loosely
around the tip and caressed it with slow, wet circles and Martha
whispered, "Good, Ronnie." My dick hardened again, quickly, stretch-
ing my sack a little uncomfortably but feeling wonderful. After a few
moist circles she let her mouth go down, down, and my eyes closed for
a second, and I opened them to see her mouth rise up slowly, revealing
my glistening wet, hardening cock, and I breathed "Ahhh" with aching
delight, and Martha whispered, "Good. He likes that, hon. Keep doing
that. Slow, now. That's it, go down slow. Let your mouth learn
about him. Thaaat's good." Martha looked up at me and smiled, her
eyes flooded with lust and searching mine, and I nodded and whispered,
"It's good," and she looked back down at Ronnie. Ronnie took me in
and paused and moved slowly up again, and my cock strained high in her
mouth and I grunted and she let her mouth rise slowly all the way to
my tip. Martha whispered as if captivated, "Look how hard you got
him." Ronnie's mouth released me and she licked the tip and swallowed
and looked at my dick and murmured, "You smell nice, too," and I
whispered, after a hard swallow of my own, "Thanks." Ronnie studied
my long, turgid cock and said, "I never tried it this way. Much more
comfortable than sucking chrome." She gathered moisture inside her
mouth and then lowered her head. I sighed noisily, and Martha
whispered, "Don't take all of him, Ron. That's it. Raise your mouth
up and down just a little, so it won't get tired. There." I twitched
inside Ronnie and grunted as she enclosed about two fifths of me and
paused. Then she started moving slowly up and down. I closed my eyes
and heard myself whisper, sounding like someone else, "Mmm. Mmm,
that's good," and Martha looked at me with an odd, kinky smile and
asked, "Is that better?", and I blushed and nodded yes and I saw that
naughty glitter in Martha's eyes and she whispered, "Does her mouth
feel nice?" and I nodded yes, and Martha whispered, "Enjoy it, hon."
She looked down at Ronnie and whispered, "Slow down when he starts to
cum. He really likes that." Ronnie said "Mm-hm" with her mouth full
of me. Her head bobbed, her lips sliding greasily, her cradling
tongue inducing a tauntingly mild suction as it rode along the
underside of my shaft and tip. I gave a prolonged, gratified sigh as
Ronnie settled into a languid rhythm, moving her head in strokes of
about two inches and leaving most of my cock warmly immersed as Martha
had shown her, and Martha, smiling mischievously, watched me enjoy
Ronnie's spitty-wet mouth. I hissed softly when I realized that
Ronnie had found exactly the right speed, depth, wetness, and gentle
suction. I placed my hands at each side of Ronnie's slowly moving
head, enjoying the feel of her soft, black, curly hair in my hands. I
whispered, "Yeah. Yeah, Ronnie. Good." I looked at Martha, whose
eyes met mine with a naughty, conspiratorial nod. I knew our feel-
ings were not the sweet, poignantly shattering emotions I had when
Martha sucked me, but the look in Martha's eyes told me that this was
deliberate, primal, wanton carnality. Then Martha looked down to
watch Ronnie's lips gliding along my wet cock.
It took Ronnie less than half a minute to thoroughly and satisfy-
ingly suck me off. At first I feared I might be too shy to cum with
Martha watching. But Ronnie worked with an easygoing, lubricous,
unerring efficiency that brought me steadily and swiftly to the brink
of orgasm. When she sensed my impending cum she slowed her pace by
half, delaying me for several sucks as Martha had suggested. While I
hung on the edge, my breath held and my hips poised and taut, Martha
looked up inquiringly. I grinned and nodded and she smiled back, our
eyes joining us in lecherous complicity. Held wetly between Ronnie's
sliding lips, my cock pulsed once, then again. Against her caressing
tongue the slit in my tip yielded a gentle, initial dribble. Her head
slowed more. My hips twitched. My gaping mouth uttered a quick, weak
"Uh" and my cock started the helpless leaping against the roof of
Ronnie's mouth. The explosive pressure streaked from my scrotum
forward, past the wet lips, into the ruthless, gentle vacuum. I
grunted "Unh!" Then I started squirting inside Ronnie's mouth. She
swallowed, and Martha looked up at me with a knowing smirk, and she
winked at me. The gesture blew me apart; I dissolved. I spurted and
spurted, hot and hard and fast, while Martha smiled down at the sight
and sound of Ronnie's mouth emptying my balls. Ronnie sighed enjoyably
through her nose and gulped and sucked and gulped. Then she enclosed
me totally, the entrance to her throat beckoning at my tip; the incred-
ible pleasure evoked my astonished, delirious gasp of "Ronnie!" as I
felt my sucked cock surrender a big, blessedly emptying load, and
Ronnie pulled upward with a little "Mmp" but kept sucking. I slumped,
spent, huffing, clenching my teeth while Ronnie finished me off.
Martha put an arm around me and kissed my shoulders, then my neck. At
last, with a long, snug suck and a swallow, Ronnie raised her head and
released me. She wiped cum from a corner of her mouth and licked her
lips with a tasty sigh. She exchanged catty smiles with Martha, who
gave her a nod of approval, and Ronnie, pleased, reached down to
soothingly tug my aching cock and wipe off the last sticky drop with
her index finger.
I floated backward and lay heaving, face up, my legs still folded
under me. Ronnie asked, "Was it good? Huh?"
I panted several times before replying dully, "No," and they both
laughed. I couldn't admit it openly to Martha, but it was a fantastic
blow job. I was breathless and speechless.
We rested, stroking each other and talking. Ronnie confessed that
she had no idea how all this got started, and she asked Martha, "Did
you have any idea something like this would happen tonight?" and
Martha smiled impishly and said, "I gave it a thought, earlier on the
beach. But I didn't know." Ronnie said happily, "But it was nice,
wasn't it?" and we agreed. Martha asked me, "So, are you still
embarrassed?" and I said, "Yeah, a little, but..." I glanced at
Ronnie and said, "You were too good to resist," and Ronnie chuckled
and said wryly, "The whole thing was too good to resist."
We lay naked together in the candlelight and one of the candles
died out with a little puff and a hiss. Martha asked Ronnie, "Did you
feel that old Catholic guilt when you realized what was happening?"
Ronnie confided that what she felt was embarrassment more than guilt,
but my mouth felt so good on her that she was taken completely by
surprise when she climaxed. "It happened so fast," Ronnie said, "I
don't even remember how it happened," and she gave me a little kiss
and said, "Thanks, Steven," and I said, "My pleasure." Ronnie heckled
Martha, saying, "Well, Martha, you sure didn't have trouble cumming,"
and Martha blushed and said, "It was a very erotic situation," and
Ronnie said, "God, wasn't it? I couldn't have done a thing if it I'd
been with anyone else. I just felt so trusting, with the three of
us." We talked about our physical and emotional sensations, and
Ronnie said she discussed sex frequently with Martha but she'd never
been so frank and experimental. Ronnie was curious to know how it
felt for Martha and for me to hang on the edge as long as we did, and
Martha and I told Ronnie that we both liked it that way most of the
time, that there was a peculiarly intense pleasure in holding back for
a while. Ronnie asked, "But how do you know when you're partner's
ready?", and Martha and I explained various signals. "Of course,"
Martha said, "You can always just tell your partner you're ready."
Ronnie gazed at the lone, burning candle, entranced, and said, "It
happened so quickly for me. I guess it was because it was the first
time anyone ever gave me and orgasm. What's it like...I mean, is it
like making it last longer?" Martha said, yes, it was a lot like
prolonging orgasm. Ronnie said, "God, that must feel great." We
asked Ronnie to describe how she knew when she was near orgasm, but
she said it was all so new and mysterious when someone else was in
control that she couldn't explain it. We decided I should eat her
again, taking my time, and she wanted to learn to describe what she
felt and how to tell me what she wanted. Patiently, I serviced her
with my mouth while she and Martha instructed me. It took longer
this time, and soon, instead of licking with a steady rate as I
usually did with Martha, I learned to read Ronnie's responses and
to speed up as her pleasure mounted. I discovered that she didn't
want me to suck her clit until she was almost there. With her and
Martha prompting, and while Ronnie pulled her knees back and used
both hands to hold her legs up and spread so she could feel all of
my mouth on her, I held Ronnie on the brink for several minutes.
When she gave the word, I sucked her clit steadily while tonguing
it. She came easily, noisily, and pleasurably, with a prolonged
second peak.
Continued. . .
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