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Subject: {ASSM} ME AND MARTHA JANE '99 (m/FF,teen) MJANE13.TXT
Date: Wed, 9 Feb 2000 01:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "MJANE13.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 13A:
During the night I awoke twice, finding it dark and still outside.
Each time, I felt creepy and giddy and unable to define the vexing
nervousness in my legs and chest. When I awoke the third time, it was
daylight. Martha was walking into the bedroom in her heels. Dressed
and ready for work, she came to my side of the bed.
She asked, "What on earth were you dreaming about all night?"
I turned onto my back, rubbing my bleary eyes. "I was dreaming?"
She sat on the bed and rested a hand on my shoulder. "You woke me
up several times, moving around."
I yawned. "I don't remember any nightmare."
"Not a nightmare, a dream. Very restless."
"Yeah? What'd I say?"
"Nothing. Just a lot of moving around."
I shrugged. "Don't remember."
Her eyes were concerned and affectionate, like those of the perfect
television mom. She leaned toward me and gave my cheek a kiss. Then
she got up and started out of the room. "I have to get to work. I'm
late, as usual." She blew me a kiss and then hustled through the
living room and out the front door.
For the rest of the day and the next few days, she made no mention
of Ronnie or of Wednesday night.
Tension. Formless, headachy tension. It slowed my morning run to
a plodding waste of time. On returning to Martha's I was too listless
to fix breakfast. I ate at a coffee shop, staring at my reflection in
the mirror behind the lunch counter and trying to connect the way I
looked with the way I felt. I looked calm. I felt so confused and
lackluster that I couldn't even identify the problem. I knew I should
have felt elated after the previous night. I thought about Martha,
Martha on her way to work a while ago, Martha looking neat and almost
prim; and I tried reconciling that with Martha and Ronnie and myself
the night before.
The workout at Fiore's cleared my head a little. Then I jogged to
Ronnie's office building. It was Thursday; I had no excuse worthy of
avoiding lunch with Ronnie, save for a general squeamishness while
waiting inside her office building for her appearance.
When she met me in the lobby, Ronnie walked to me with her usual
chummy, welcoming smile. Then, unexpectedly, she gave me a brief but
very, very affectionate though sisterly hug. While we were in the
brief clinch I remained outwardly reserved, expecting the stares I
would have gotten from people in a crowded lobby in Memphis. But in
New York the crowd merely acted as if we stood in their way.
Outside on the sidewalk she asked, "Would you like Chinese for
lunch?"
I shrugged, the sun hurting my eyes. The nature of Ronnie's hug
made things seem to be moving a little too fast and in unforeseen
directions. Were her expectations of me the same as Martha's? I
caught Ronnie looking at me again, waiting for an answer to her ques-
tion about lunch. I blinked, and I shrugged again.
She said, "Does that mean yes?"
I nodded yes. "Yeah. Okay."
She led me toward a small Chinese place two blocks away. She made
some cheery comments, but my response was sluggish and absent-minded.
She kept glancing at me, puzzled at first, then more guardedly. In
the restaurant we sat by a window, as usual, and scanned the menu.
Making her choice early she set her menu aside, but I buried my face
in mine, unable to concentrate and, partially, avoiding her. After a
long moment at the table I glanced up at her. She was looking at me
with a questioning half-smile.
Then she spoke the very words that summed up my situation. She
asked, trying to sound casual but sounding a little timorous, "What's
the matter? Can't you handle last night?
When I heard her question I was thunderstruck and speechless -- so
much so that all I could do was shrug and turn my face away, uneasily
scratching the back of my neck like the young idiot I was. It was a
shocking moment of revelation: Of course I couldn't handle it!
She grinned mockingly. "Steven, you're not gonna start that old
morning-after stuff with *me*. Are you?" Then she joked, "Or, uh,
did we just wear you out or something?"
She stopped to glance out of the corner of her eye as some incom-
ing customers passed near us, and I glanced at them for a moment.
Then Ronnie propped her hands on her elbows and watched her fingers
as she fiddled with them. Smiling confidentially she went on, "Well,
personally, I was at work today acting silly and crazy, celebrating
the first orgasm that another person actually *gave* me. And the
folks at work just stared at me. It's terrible, I don't know anybody
there well enough to blab it to. Know what I mean? My first." Her
eyes watched me, waiting.
Like an idiot, I stared at her. The best I knew to do with such a
subject was to nod in agreement and don a weak smile and joke lamely,
"So, uh, the people at work don't catch on, huh?"
Ronnie frowned irritably. She said, "Y'know, all guys must have
this, uh, general deflation problem afterwards that starts in one
place and spreads overnight." She gave a bored sigh. "Maybe I
shouldn't hug you in lobbies like that. A lot of people don't like
public displays." She shrugged again. "My problem, not yours. I
told you I was crazy."
I could have kicked myself. Why the hell hadn't I paid attention
to her, instead of working myself into a funk? Ronnie was always so
easygoing, I had no inkling of how sensitive she really was, and if I
had, I was too short-circuited and unsure of myself to manage it sens-
ibly. I was suddenly, furiously impatient with my timidity.
She blinked at me. "What's the matter? Hey, Steven."
I said, looking straight into her, "You're right."
She blinked again. "I'm right?"
I said, feeling blood rush to my face, "Yes. I couldn't handle
it. I'm too shy and stupid, and I'm getting tired of it, because you
don't deserve that kind of inconsiderate treatment." I looked around
quickly, embarrassed that my own voice was rising. I hunched forward,
my elbows on the table, hands folded. Ronnie was frowning, surprised
but attentive. I confessed, "In order for me to say that, I had to...
I had to let somebody get close enough, and right now...you're the
only person I know who I'm not afraid to say that to. So...if you
want to slap somebody's face, then slap mine -- not yours. You're too
good for that. I mean, you're pretty and passionate and...you deserve
better. I'm such a...bumpkin. I can't even hug back, or say anything,
or --"
She scowled mildly and held up a cautioning hand. "Hold on, hold
on, there, just...just hold it a second." She turned her face away,
toward the window, seeming suddenly lost in thought. Then to my
dismay she held a palm to her cheek and seemed no longer thoughtful
but simply taken aback, possibly shocked. Then she whispered, her
face still toward the window, "'Scuze me," and with her other hand she
used a knuckle to dab at an eye on her far cheek, and she wagged her
head slightly and complained to herself, "Oh, I don't believe this."
Then she gave a little sniffle.
And I sighed, disconcerted, going limp in my chair and raising my
eyes to the ceiling, asking myself: Why the hell are women always
doing this? Could I be nice to women without bringing them to this?
I conceded, impatient, "Okay, maybe I'm doing this wrong. I mean,
you deserve better than just me hemming and hawing -- I'm sorry, I
guess I still have a lot to learn." I waited, expecting Ronnie to
either chew me out or just get up and leave.
She turned toward me, lowering her head and blushing and giving
her other eye a small wipe with her fingers, and she smiled as if to
herself, muttering absently, "This is nuts, I'm as bad as you are."
She sniffled again but straightened in her chair and said, "Well,
considering last night, I don't know that you have *that* much to
learn."
I said glumly, "I don't mean that. I mean the rest of it."
She smiled wryly. "Yes, the rest of it, well...that is the tough
part. I have trouble with that, myself." She looked around absently,
still smiling to herself, but blinking as if trying to dispel the
slight redness in her eyes.
Hastily I reached for the napkin holder. "Here, let me..."
She gave a quick, dismissive flick of her hand. "Oh, stop, I
don't need that. Forget it."
I said, "I mean, here I was, acting like that George character you
talk about. How could anybody be dumb enough to treat you like that?"
She shrugged. "Well, now, George was, uh, had his own unique kind
of addictive magnetism, I guess. Astonishing. But, then, I think
guys fall for the same thing in girls, too, don't they?"
The waiter arrived, a polite, middle aged Chinese man. He took
Ronnie's order, and while he took mine Ronnie put an elbow on the
table and raised a hand to lean her chin on it and looked out the
window. After taking my order, the waiter scooted to another table.
I looked at Ronnie, trying to figure out what to say next.
Gazing out the window, Ronnie gave a little chuckle, her rueful
smile widening with a blush. "Oh, don't mind me, I'm just -- You
know, you could have used one of the more standard lines, like 'Boy,
last night was just wonderful.' Or how about: 'Y'know, Veronica,
you're a great piece of ass'. A guy actually used that on me. And
with a straight face, too. I thought he was gonna slap me on the back
and give me a cigar." She looked out the window again. "But you had
to go and say something totally unexpected." She shook her head,
"Sometimes you sneak in through the side door."
I said, still kicking myself, "Well, I act like an idiot on the
beach, and I act like a George when you try to me nice to me, and--"
I fumed quietly, trying to find the words. "I'm sick of being so...
irritating. It made me look like another George."
She grinned and she shook her head no and made another casual wave
of her hand. "Oh, Steven, you're fine, I'm fine. Really. It's just
that -- " She shook her head again, and said, "You know what Martha
told me on the train yesterday? She said 'Steven has a way of hiding
out from you that's very irritating. Then he does something so nice
it breaks your heart'."
"She said that?"
"Yeah, I just now remembered it."
"So...Well, if I broke your heart, I'm sorry. I didn't--"
She shook her head no, protesting, "No, of course not. You just
surprised me, that's all." She picked up her menu and opened it and
looked inside. "I think I'm gonna order dessert this time around."
She sighed. "You're okay. I was just stuck somewhere in what I
thought was a repeat performance. Maybe we both have a few things to
learn about our own conditioning." She glanced up at me, and patted
my hand and joked in her bad Southern accent, "You done gooood!" Then
her gaze softened and she teased, "You put so much effort into talking
yourself down."
Still angry with myself, I blushed.
She brought her water glass toward her mouth and said, "And you
still blush too much. I really have to cure you of that." She took a
drink of water and set the glass down and leaned forward on her elbows
and beamed at me. "So how about it? When are you gonna pose for me?"
That night, Martha came home from work so beat and bedraggled that
the first thing she did as she removed her heels at the door was to
groan, "Oooh, heaven help me. What ever happened to that brilliant
idea you had a few days ago about getting more sleep for a change?"
I said, setting up the dinner table, "See? I told you it would
catch up with us sooner or later. But, alas, no one ever listens to
me. A prophet is always ignored in his own time. Come on, I got us
some dinner."
She moved slowly and arduously to the tiny dining room, holding
onto the wall as she progressed, a dull, pained look on her face. "Oh,
I'm starving. I was afraid to eat lunch today, I thought it would
make me too drowsy. Now I'm almost too tired to eat. I'm even too
tired to change clothes first."
She sat at the table. Then she held her hands over her face and
said behind her hands, "Hon, I don't want to be a party pooper, but
can we just skip the plans for tonight?"
"Sure."
"Really. I can't. I just can't."
I sat opposite her and gave her my John Wayne voice, saying,
"Never you mind, pil-grum. We'll rest our horses t'nite, an'...clean
our guns 'n check the...ammunition. And we can fight it out with
those commanches...annnuther day."
She said behind her hands, "Steven, I'm serious. I don't want to
move."
"Okay. Let's just rest tonight. Why don't you eat something?
You'll feel better."
She uncovered her face and grabbed her fork, mumbling, "This is
your vacation, your New York debut. And I'm just--" She stopped,
staring numbly into her dinner plate.
I asked, "Did I forget something?"
"Steven, where did you buy this? If you keep spending your money
on expensive food like this, you'll be broke in no time."
"I didn't buy it," I said, my mouth full of food. I chewed fast
and said, "I made it."
She frowned. "You made this?"
"Yeah. It's chicken salad."
"No, it's chicken salad with slivered almonds and sour cream. The
good stuff they sell at Zabar's for an arm and a leg."
"Well, I saved one arm and one leg by making it myself."
"But...Where did you get the chicken?"
"Second Avenue Meat Market."
She sighed and frowned and prodded the salad with her fork. "So
you've been researching all the inside dope in the neighborhood, huh?
Where did you find out about that place? I certainly didn't tell you
about it."
"I bought a copy of your very own neighborhood newspaper, and they
told me all about it."
"Well...aren't you clever?" She put a hefty bite into her mouth.
"Not merely clever, Mister Holmes. Devious. Quite devious."
Martha's eyes shot open and then narrowed. "MM! Oh, Steven! Oh,
my, this is good. Mmm. You made this?"
"Madam, one does not question the integrity of the chef." I waved
my fork at her. "And neither does one speak with one's mouth full of
the chef's food."
She stuffed another bite into her mouth and chewed. "Mm. Mmmm.
You didn't make this. You didn't."
"Yes ah di-uhd, Marshall Dillon."
With her mouth full she asked, "You cookd th chckn an evything?"
"Ah shore did."
"Mmp." She took a swig from her water glass. She stared at me.
"Hon. Really. It must have taken you all day to do this."
"Two hours, maybe. Not including the cooking, which just kinda
took care of itself after I closed the oven."
"That oven door doesn't even close all the way, you have to turn
the heat up."
"I know. I wanted three-seventy-five and finally had to set it at
five hundred to get there."
She took another bite, eating less ravenously now. After a third
or fourth bite she settled against the back of her chair and caught
her breath. "Steven, you needn't have done this."
"Needn't? Certainly I needed." I finished chewing and wiped my
mouth and smiled at her. "I did it solely for the benefit of, and en-
joyable consumption by, the most attractive, intelligent, hardworking,
dedicated young woman in New York."
She looked at me skeptically.
I went on, "And the most generous. And the most captivating eyes
and the most beautiful face. And the best body and the best lover for
many, many miles in all directions." I gave her a wide, so-there-you-
are smile.
She scowled. "Steven. What got into you? Who's been talking to
you?"
I smiled wider. I answered innocently, "You. Of course."
"No, what's all this buttering up?"
"I'll say it again, it's for the benefit of the most beautiful,
the most glamorous--"
"Steven, stop."
"Hm?"
"Be serious."
I sighed. "All right."
She sighed, too. She took another bite, a small one, and said,
"It's really very good." She chewed. "Thank you."
I gave her a little bow of my head.
She swallowed and said, quietly, as she got another forkful ready.
"I'm sorry to be so cross when I came home. This is really very nice.
And you said nice things."
"Thanks you."
"But why can't you just say it without fooling around?"
I winced. "C'mon. Gimme a break. I'm tryin'."
She said quietly, "I know you are." She wiped her hands with the
napkin. "I'm sorry I snapped." She rose and walked to my side of the
table and stood beside me and put her arms around my shoulders, hug-
ging me to her waist. "You took me by surprise. That's what happens
when you take a cranky bitch by surprise."
"You're not a bitch."
She smiled down at me. "But cranky?"
I shrugged. "Eh."
"You're sweet." She bent down to give me a kiss on my forehead.
"And you're making progress." She kissed my nose and then she started
for the bedroom. "I'll finish eating that wonderful dinner, but let
me change clothes first. We can spend a decent night at home."
After dinner, she worked on papers at the little dining room
table. While I cleaned up in the kitchen she called to me, "Steven,
don't overdo it. I don't want you to spend your vacation being my
housemaid."
"Please, Miss Graham. Just let me do my work."
She put some check marks on a paper and smirked. "I feel as if
I'm using you."
I joked, "Go ahead. Use me. Just don't get out the chains or the
fire poker. At the rate I'm going, I'll be a bachelor for a long time
and I'll need these skills to keep my life going."
She said, looking at the papers, "You won't be a bachelor. Some
gal's gonna grab you up, fast."
I said, "Nobody's grabbed me yet."
"Yes, she will. And before she does, there will be many others,
hon. Not everybody, but lots of others. Before you get grabbed I
want you to fuck lots of girls."
I paused. Now, why would Martha want me fucking a lot of girls?
I covered my confusion by joking defensively, "I always thought of
myself as the one-woman type."
She smiled. "That's what all the guys say."
I looked at her. In my mind I said to her, silently: I'm a one-
woman type and the one woman I want is you. Instead I said directly,
"If I ever get grabbed, I don't expect I'll be screwing a lot of other
girls."
She said quietly, still working, "I know you wouldn't, hon. Being
married is different, obviously. I'm talking about before you get
grabbed. I want you to fuck lots of girls, and to meet a lot of girls
that you don't fuck. In other words, I don't want you doing what so
many men do, and get married just because you think you can't express
yourself sexually any other way. And I want you to make friends with
guys as well as girls. You've always been around too many women, not
enough men." She flipped to another sheet in the stack of papers.
"And I want you to feel confident so that you won't do what my father
had to do and devote himself to someone he really didn't want that
much."
She sighed wearily and stopped to stretch her back. "But he was a
good man. True blue, all the way. True enough to get killed for us."
She returned to the papers. She sighed again as she lifted her
pencil. "At least he didn't live long enough to find out what a
wicked, cranky bitch his daughter would come to."
I looked at her, trying to comprehend that last remark. I had no
comforting reply for it. I wondered how many secret things were going
on in her head, and if those secrets were as momentous as the secret
plans and desires I kept from her.
As I wrapped Saran around the bowl of chicken salad I asked her,
"We won't be able to eat all this before it spoils. Maybe I should
wrap up some for Ronnie."
Still with her nose in the papers, she said absently, "Okay."
I prodded her. "Ronnie? Remember Ronnie?"
"Of course."
I waited, but she didn't say another word about Ronnie or about
our Wednesday night orgy.
Nor did she mention Ronnie when we turned in at a reasonable hour
later that night. When the lights were out she turned to me in bed
with a tired smile and hovered over me with her face near mine and
whispered, "I'm still fertile, you know. For today, anyway. It'll be
safer by the weekend."
I gave her shoulders a squeeze. "Okay."
She kept smiling at me. "Want me to suck you?"
I looked at her. "I'd like to do something first." Holding her
by her waist, I pushed her gently onto her back. She was wearing only
her pajama tops again, which I pulled up to reveal her firm breasts.
I kissed her nipples and started kissing downward and she relaxed and
closed her eyes and smiled. When my lips reached her navel she
whispered, "I like it very slow when I'm tired, hon. Make it slow."
I licked the length of her slit, all the way up, dragging my tongue
upward languidly. She caressed my hair and whispered, "That's it.
Make it nasty."
I did. She must have been extremely tired. It took her longer
than usual to climax, and she finished silently, with a prolonged
stiffening and a weary but contented sigh. Then I sat up with my legs
under me and she sucked me for a long time, getting me lengthy and
stiff and then using several easy sucks alternating with intervals of
lazy hand-pumping while she held my tip in her mouth and caressed with
her tongue, and then sucking again. We were both so straightforward
we seemed restrained. I had spent more time with her in New York than
I ever had in Memphis, more continuous contact and sex that I could
imagine -- and I still wasn't accustomed to it, to just plain, simple,
physical sex with Martha. Just before my climax began, she used yet
another variation on me; with only my glans in her mouth, she tongued
my slit while her fingers loosely and briskly jacked me off to urge
cum onto her slithering tongue. I ejaculated with deep, surprisingly
relaxed pleasure, hearing her calmly swallow all of it at the end
with one gulp, and I was shocked that I enjoyed it so much.
I watched her fall asleep. I kept thinking that there must be a
way to stay away from Memphis forever.
In the morning as I went downstairs for my run I knocked on
Ronnie's door and waited for a long moment with a paper bag that held
a plastic jar of chicken salad. She finally came to the door in her
thin bathrobe, her rumpled hair half covering her face, her eyes
sleepy slits.
"Here," I said, holding out the bag.
"Thanks," she mumbled. She took the bag and stood behind her door
looking unconscious.
I started to leave and she whispered behind me. "Steven." I
turned and she asked, "What is this?"
"Chicken salad I made. You can take it for lunch, or whatever."
"Chicken salad? You made it?"
"Yeah."
She paused, seeming to drift off for a moment, and she gazed at
the bag. Then she said, "For me?"
"Of course, for you."
She muttered, "My god." Then she smiled, looking drowsily silly.
"Steven. Don't marry in haste. See me first." She blew me a kiss
and closed her door.
I hopped downstairs. I headed for Central Park. I ran until I
couldn't run any more, farther and longer than ever. But I felt it
still wasn't far or long or fast enough.
PART 13B:
Our Friday night dinner with Ronnie had a late start because
Martha had to stay at Columbia late for a staff lecture. By nine
o'clock the three of us were in a diner, with Martha tiredly picking
at her food.
Ronnie announced, "Martha, Steven has consented to letting me draw
his perfectly proportioned body. So don't make plans for late Sunday
afternoon. He's mine for the day."
Martha said dully, "Oh. That's nice, Steven. Wait until you see
her work. She's good."
Ronnie said, "Well, Martha, don't get all worked up about it and
have a stroke."
Martha said, "I said I think it's nice."
Ronnie said, "I'm excited. I haven't had a really interesting
model in a while. And, y'know, I was thinking...maybe I could teach
him to pose, and some of the people I know would pay him while he's
here."
I brightened up at that, but Martha said, "Oh, why make Steven do
all that work while he's on vacation? Posing isn't that easy."
I said, "I dunno, it might be a good idea."
Martha said to me, "You're probably not old enough to register
with many of the art schools and it takes forever to process the
papers. You'll be on your way to Memphis by then."
Ronnie complained, "Oh, Martha. Look, think about it when you're
in a better mood." Ronnie winked at me.
"Okay," Martha said.
Ronnie said, cutting up her lamb chop, "And I hope you get in a
better mood soon. I'm already getting sick of you."
Martha said dismissively, "All right, all right. I'll work on it."
Ronnie said, "And I'll be glad when you get out of Columbia and
work for a private agency or something. That place detrimental to
your state of mind."
Martha said, smirking, "Yes, Mama Ronnie."
"Mama Ronnie says get the heck out of there."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Get yourself married to some successful professorial type and get
out of there."
Martha swallowed her soup. "It'll take more than that."
"Oh, picky."
Martha said, "Yes. Very." Martha swallowed again. "I'll get
married when you do."
"Yes. Please. From your mouth to God's ears, Martha." Ronnie
chewed and then grinned at me. "I'm saving myself for Steven."
I blushed.
Ronnie said. "Look at him. Blushing. It's so predictable."
I smiled politely and ate slowly. Martha married -- now, that was
a disturbing thought...
As we strolled home, Martha's mood improved only minimally. In
the stairwell Ronnie opened her door and turned to us, asking, "Hey,
you two wanna come on in?"
Martha turned to her on the stairs and thought about it. "Well,
no, hon. I'm really tired. And it's late, and Steven has to keep up
with his workouts, and--"
Ronnie waved her off. "Steven, take the creaky old lady upstairs
and put her to bed, and insist that she go to sleep."
I said, "That's a very good idea -- If only she'll leave that
paper work alone and listen to me."
Ronnie said, "Knock her over the head and drag her to bed."
I grinned at Ronnie.
Ronnie said pointedly, "To sleep! Maybe she'll be in a better
mood tomorrow." Ronnie started to go inside but stuck her head out
the door and said, "Hey, Martha."
"What, Ronnie?"
"Call me in the morning."
"Okay."
"Really. I wanna talk."
"Oh, god."
"Martha. Call me."
Martha said gently, "Yes. Okay."
In her apartment Martha stood by the bed while I undressed. She
rubbed her eyes and slid her hands down her tired face and said
softly, "I'm sorry, hon. Columbia is so discouraging. I don't want
you to see me like this, getting the way I was at Memphis State."
I went to her and held her with her head leaning on my chest. She
sighed and relaxed. She whispered, "I'm worried."
"Stop worrying about that stuff and let's go to sleep."
"That's not really what I'm worried about. Not that, so much."
"What? Another worry? And what's this new one all about?"
She leaned her head against me. She muttered, "I can't tell you
now."
I hugged her. "Then let's go to sleep. You can tell me tomorrow."
"I can't tell you tomorrow, either."
"When?"
"I don't know." She was quiet for a second. And then she wept on
my shoulder, but delicately, almost inaudibly.
I held her close, rubbing her back and shoulders. I asked myself:
Is crying and weeping by these two women going to be a daily occur-
rence? I kissed her hair and her neck, and she whimpered.
After a moment she relaxed and said, her voice thick and tired
after crying, "Okay. Let's go to bed. I'm sick of thinking. I'm
just sick of it."
I lay awake for a while, wondering what the hell was going on with
her. I figured she should be getting her period soon. Maybe that was
it. There was too much going on in my own head to keep fretting about
all the other heads around me. I was making progress; but progress
toward what?
I slept until after eight on Saturday and then had another good
run. Martha was still in bed when I got back. I was pleased to see
her stretch and smile cheerfully.
She asked, "Hi. What's up?"
"Breakfast," I said. "Then Fiore."
"That's my little ball of fire." She sat up in bed and threw me a
little kiss. "You were sweet."
I smiled at her.
"What do you want to do today?"
I said firmly, "Nothing."
Martha yawned. "He works for two years to get to New York and he
wants to do nothing."
I pointed a finger at her. "I want you to rest. I want to rest,
too. You can't compress your whole life into one vacation, and I can
always come back again. Vacations are for fun. Vacations are for
enlightenment and for expanding your horizon. And vacations are..."
I pulled off a shoe. "for fucking."
Her sleepy, happy eyes popped open. "Well! Listen to you!"
I said, "But first, breakfast. And Fiore. And lots of rest."
She said, "And me."
I smiled tolerantly, sitting on the edge of the bed and removing
my other shoe. "And you."
She said in the middle of a yawn, "Well, I guess we'd better to-
day, while we have the chance. It's not as dangerous as it was
before, and it'll be...that time of the month soon. Then I'll be just
perfectly beautiful and charming." She yawned again. "Oh, listen to
me. How disgustingly practical."
I took off my sweaty t-shirt. "Well, then, we have the rest of the
day to be impractical and do it."
She lay back and beckoned me with a finger. "C'mere."
"Not yet."
"No, c'mere."
I sighed impatiently and shuffled onto the bed alongside her,
looking down at her face.
She smiled playfully and put her arms around my neck. She looked
into my face with lazy, smoky eyes. "I don't get to hear you say fuck
very often. I like it when you say it."
I looked at her.
She prompted gently, "Say it."
"What?"
"Say fuck. Let me hear you say it."
"Fuck."
"No, look at me. Say it."
"Fuck."
She whispered, "Say it slower."
I looked at her and said more slowly, "Fuck."
She put a finger on my lips. "Mmmmm. Nasty boy."
I said firmly, sitting up. "Listen, I'm starving. And I'm sweaty
and I need a shower." As I moved off the bed and got stuff together
for bathing, Martha stretched again in bed, looking absolutely
gorgeous with her tousled hair and naked legs and her bush sticking up
in the air.
She said, "You get so aggressive and sexy. Then you hide. Then
you get aggressive and sexy again. What happened this time?"
"Lots," I said.
"Steven, you're so mysterious. Sometimes I have no idea what
you're really made of."
"Made of?" I chuckled. "What all little boys are made of.
Snakes and snails and puppy-dog tails."
"Mmmmm." She grinned and echoed insolently, "Puppy-dog tales."
"Oh, come on. Let's take our shower."
In the shower she was playful and silly and I asked her, "Are you
drunk or something?"
She said, "Drunk with rest. Thank you for forcing me to get a
good night's rest."
"Well, I needed it too."
She lathered her hands and looked at my eyes and said, "Let's get
that puppy-dog tail nice and clean." She grabbed by dick and milked
it slowly with soap.
I warned her, "Not yet, now." I said.
She teased, "Well, we do have to get him clean."
I said, "What's got into *you* today?"
She removed her hands and put her arms around my neck and gave my
water-drenched cheek a kiss. "You see how different I can be when you
just open up and let us have fun?"
I answered seriously, "Yes."
"I wish you'd do this more often."
"There probably wouldn't be much left of me if I did. Nothing
left to send back to Memphis except bones and ashes."
Her smile faded. She looked in my eyes and kept her arms around
my neck and said soberly, "Do me a favor."
"What?"
"Don't talk about Memphis today. Not today."
As we were finishing breakfast, Ronnie called Martha on the phone.
Martha settled on the sofa in her bathrobe. They had been talking for
about twenty minutes when I left to get to Fiore's. It was an excel-
lent workout, and for once I was pleased with myself. But I was dead
tired when I returned to Martha's. I was surprised to find she was
still on the sofa, talking with Ronnie. She hadn't moved since I left
for Fiore's.
I set up a dish of chicken salad for Martha and myself and sat at
the dining table. I ate for a minute, and when it was evident that
Martha was going to stay on the telephone I carried the bowl and a
paper napkin to Martha and handed it to her. She mouthed a thank-you
and kept the handset to her ear while she ate.
After eating, I undressed to my underwear and signaled that I was
going into the bedroom for a nap. She mouthed an okay and stayed on
on the phone, so I grabbed the second little Hunter fan she had in the
corner and took it into the bedroom and placed it on the window sill
and aimed it at the bed. I peeked into the living room. Martha was
still listening on the telephone. I got into bed for a needed nap.
Martha stayed on the phone, responding now and then in short, cryptic
phases I couldn't make out. I dozed off. The next thing I knew,
Martha was getting settled into bed in her pajama tops again.
She whispered, "Just stay asleep, hon. A little nap wouldn't be a
bad idea. It's starting to rain again, anyway. It's nice napping
weather, all day."
I said, "You were on the phone with Ronnie for two hours?"
"Of course. Why?"
"Why didn't you just go down there? She lives right downstairs."
"Because we're girls. We do that all the time."
"Girls do strange things."
"So do boys."
"What do you and Ronnie find to talk about for two hours?"
"Secrets."
"What kinda secrets?"
"You know better than that. Just...problems, that's all."
"Two hours of problems?"
"You know something? I'm glad you're talking more, Steven, but
right now you're talking too much."
I didn't say anything. She curled onto her side, facing me, and
watched my dissatisfied expression. She said, "Okay. Among many,
many other things, she wanted us to get together tonight because she
doesn't have any plans. I said no."
"Why not?"
She waited. She said, "I had to think about it."
I sighed. "Think about it? Sounds too complicated."
"It is."
"All right," I said. I laid one hand on her hip and closed my eyes.
Outside the window I heard the onset of the quiet, easy hiss of the
drizzle. Cars swished slowly down the street. It was very quiet and
comfortable and I was pleased with myself that things seemed to be
getting so cozy and homey and less hectic with Martha.
She whispered, "Steven?"
"Hm?"
She didn't say anything. I opened my eyes and found her staring
at mine, an indefinable but calm pout on her face.
I asked, "What?"
She cuddled her head into the pillow, her eyes still on me. She
whispered, "Nothing."
I sighed and closed my eyes, saying, "Girls are so strange."
After a long minute I heard her whisper, "Ronnie said thank you
again."
I kept my eyes closed. "When Ronnie calls back, tell her she's
welcome."
After a moment I heard Martha whisper, "Did you like it?"
I sighed.
She said, "Tell me."
I said to the ceiling. "Yes."
After a moment she whispered, a hint of worry in her voice, "I did
too." Then she yawned and said, "I'm too sleepy to worry about it."
"Me too."
She put a hand on my thigh and said, "This is nice, just taking it
easy like this. With the rain outside. It was a good idea."
After a couple of minutes I felt her hand on my leg relax and then
slip away.
We woke up after six in the early evening and decided to go out
for a quick, inexpensive dinner. On our way downstairs I stopped at
Ronnie's door. I looked at Martha and asked, "Want some company?"
She said quickly, "No. Don't. Not now."
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing. C'mon."
As we walked in the soft drizzle she seemed preoccupied for a
couple of blocks and spoke little. I asked her, "What's wrong? Your
time of the month show up already?"
"No, hon. Don't worry."
"So?"
"I'm still just a little sleepy, that's all." She hooked an arm
into mine and smiled. "C'mon, let's eat. Then we can come back
home...and eat."
She was playful in the diner and seemed at ease and even a little
dreamy. The overcast sky was darkening as we left the diner. Martha
wanted to detour through Central Park. "Just for a bit," she said
wistfully, "You need to see Central Park in the rain."
And it was a sight, indeed; the lights of the city surrounded the
park and the street lamps in the park glowed in the darkening air with
a foggy, jewel-box effect. It seemed painterly and unreal. By eight-
thirty we were on our way back home in the dark, walking along the
slick, glistening streets.
As we strolled arm-in-arm, she smiled up at the thin drizzle and
said, "This is turning out to be such a nice evening. Maybe you
should make up the agenda from now on. My scheduling just runs us
ragged."
"I don't know my way around that well yet."
"You're learning, though." She hugged my arm. "You've learned so
much in four weeks."
In her apartment I mixed my day's third round of vitamins. Then
the brewer's yeast. Then, I decided, more yeast. Then a third spoon-
ful.
Martha asked, "What in the world are you doing with all that
yeast?"
"Fortifying myself," I said. I dipped into the jar for the fourth
time.
"Good heavens," Martha breathed.
I felt good. I was rested. I was drunk with desire for Martha.
I was, secretly, desperate for her. If this was to be our last night
for the undetermined length of her period, I wanted to make the most
of it.
Martha sat at the table and watched me down the thick brew. She
said, "I hope you don't explode."
After the last swig I put the empty glass in the sink and said,
"It's dark outside. Let's make it dark in here."
She sat at the table watching as I went through the apartment
closing all the curtains and turning off all the lights. She soon got
the idea and sat with a coy smile until I finished. The apartment was
inky dark. I felt my way through the black, toward her. I heard her
clothes rustling. By the time I reached her she had removed all but
her panties and bra. I embraced her and kissed her hair and then her
temples and reached behind her to undo the bra. It fell from her
shoulders with a whisper. I breathed, "Here, in the dark. Let's take
our time. We have all night. You feel so good. Did I ever tell you
how good you feel?"
She whispered, "Yes. But tell me again."
I told her as she helped me undress -- or, I attempted to. All
that came to my mouth was brief whispers: "You feel so good," or
You're so beautiful." I tried to say more, standing and caressing her
lightly, running my fingers over her nipples and around her waist and
along her hips and across her delightful, warm, flexing tush. But
the real words, the hot, passionate, desperate words seemed to stick
in my throat. After a moment she knelt down and began softly tonguing
and mouthing my cock in the dark.
I murmured, "Don't make me cum yet."
She whispered, "Okay."
"I don't want to cum for a long time."
"Okay." I could hear or see little detail in the dark; I focused
on the feel of her mouth on me. When I was hard and twitching, which
didn't take long, she rose and led me by the hand into the bedroom.
We both bumped into things and giggled and then slid into bed together.
Martha leaned over me and gave my nipples inner-lip kisses. It went
on for a long time. We caressed each other and whispered, her words
growing more sensual and arousing. We slid on and off each other
lazily.
"Does that feel good?" she asked, running a fingernail along my
balls.
"Yeah. Does that?" I asked, running my fingernail along the
crease of her still warm, moist derriere until I reached under her and
felt wet flesh.
"Ah. Yes."
She moved me onto my back and hovered over me, and kissed my neck,
and I said "Mmm," and she licked my earlobes. She whispered into my
ear, "I want more."
"You'll get more."
"Steven...you've made me very hot."
"Good."
"No, it's different, it's...I need more."
"Mm. Let's see, what naughty things can I think of?"
"You wanna be naughty?"
"Yes."
"Really naughty, Steven?"
"Yes."
"Steven..." She licked my other earlobe.
"Yes?"
She paused and licked again. "I told Ronnie today not to come
over. I wanted you all to myself."
"You'll have plenty on your hands, don't worry."
She licked down one side of my neck. "Steven."
"Yes?"
She stopped kissing me and held her face against mine. "Was it
good with her?"
I didn't answer for a second. I said, "You saw me, didn't you?"
"But it felt good? I mean...really good?"
"Yes."
"Nasty?"
I breathed a tiny laugh, remembering. "Yes."
"Steven...hon...I was very excited that night."
"I was too."
She lifted her face and looked at me, smiling mischievously. "Were
you?"
"Yes. Sure."
She started to move higher on me, her legs grazing my cock, and I
felt her knee take a string of cold precum with it as she moved. She
glanced down my torso. "Mmm. Your dick is so wet. It's making cum.
It got wet talking about it, didn't it?"
"Yes. Along with other things."
"No, really. Steven. Did talking about it get you excited?"
"Yes."
She smiled at me briefly, thinking, then she held her face against
mine again. After a few seconds she whispered, "Would you like to be
with Ronnie again?"
I didn't say anything. It wasn't an idea that had captivated me
for the past three days. My first thought was that she was asking me
if I wanted to go downstairs and get into bed with Ronnie. I wasn't
quite sure what to say.
She waited with her face against mine, and she asked, "Steven?
Would you like it if Ronnie were here with us again?"
"...It's up to you."
She whispered, "Wait," She sat up and started moving away from
me. "Wait. Don't move. I'll be back."
I lay with my cock twitching in the dark while she fumbled her way
into the living room. I heard her dial a number and then she was
talking on the phone briefly. I heard her say irritably, "Okay, then
get *out* of the shower," and after she was quiet for a couple of
seconds she said, "I know I did, but I -- Ronnie, you knew I'd change
my mind. You knew, I can hear it in your voice." Then a few more
whispers and Martha said, "Oh, dress for what? The building's been
empty all weekend, who'd see?" And then more whispers and titters and
then I barely heard her say, "The door won't be locked. Lock it be-
hind you. Okay?" A few words later, she hung up. Then I heard her
fooling around hastily with the front door locks. Then she felt her
way along the walls in the short hallway and then into the bedroom
again. She crawled to me on the bed and sat on her legs beside me,
facing me. She whispered unsteadily, "Hon. Listen to me. Ronnie's
coming up. She'll be here in a minute, so if it's -- If it's not all
right, tell me. Now." She looked at me, waiting, her eyes tense.
I said, "Call her back if you want."
"I don't want to." I saw her eyes looking at mine. "Do you want
me to?"
I thought for a second. I said, "If you don't want to stop, I
don't either."
With one hand she slowly swept back one side of her hair. "You're
not just going along with this, are you? I could call her back.
She'll think I'm crazy. She'll know I am. But..." She stopped, and
she looked toward the living room. She exhaled a quiet but nervous
breath. She gave a hushed whisper, "Hon, where am I taking us? All
of us?"
I started to sit up. "All right. If you want, I'll call her.
What's her number?"
She touched my shoulder. "No."
"You don't want me to?"
"I don't know. No. Hon, I don't know." She leaned toward me,
she put her arms around me, she settled on top of me, and she
whispered shakily, "This is so wicked." She stretched her body on
mine and snuggled into me from top to bottom
I wrapped my arms around her and stroked her back. I asked, "Are
you okay?"
She whispered with a nervous little laugh, "Yes. Yes, I'm -- Give
me a minute. I'm getting so excited, I'm breathless." She held onto
me, lying still but urging her breasts and hips into me, her face
hugging into my neck. She lay that way for a long moment, then she
shifted her hips a little and placed her cunt directly over my cock
and pressed until the length of my cock lay just inside and along her
damp slit. I whispered, "You're very wet." She whispered "Yes" and
she lay still for another long moment. She whispered, "Tighter.
Tighter." I held my arms around her neck and waist more snugly, and
her arms encircled my head and she held on for another while. Then
she kissed my ear and licked it and she said, "We shouldn't be doing
this. It's so wicked."
I whispered, a little nervous about it myself, "But I want it,
too."
Then she lifted her face over mine and held my face in her hands
and gave me a long, deep, desperate, searching kiss. The kiss went on
and on and she wouldn't interrupt, breathing through her nose, her
lips constantly mashing mine. And her cunt pressed against me while
she kissed and she scrubbed her slit along my length, wetting me.
Suddenly she jerked and stiffened when the front door opened.
She ended the kiss and slid off me, onto her side, and looked toward
the bedroom door. The front door clicked shut.
Ronnie called softly, "Martha? Steven? God, is it dark enough in
here?" I heard her throw the door locks closed.
Martha called back, "Ronnie. In the bedroom."
Ronnie said "Okay," then I heard something being bumped in the
living room and something else fell to the floor, sounding like a big
book. "Sorry," Ronnie said. "Leave it to me, right?" Soon she
appeared dimly in the doorway, feeling her way along the hallway wall
and then past the door, saying, "It's a good thing this apartment is
exactly like mine. It's so dark in here!"
"Wait," Martha said. She got out of bed and gave me a beautiful
view of her rear in the dark as she hurriedly slid past Ronnie into
the living room. Ronnie peered into the bedroom from the doorway.
She appeared to be wearing a towel, or maybe a bathrobe. "Steven?"
she asked, moving into the room. "What's Martha doing?"
I answered, "I don't know."
From the living room Martha muttered, "I'm lighting a candle.
Like last time, okay?"
Ronnie echoed meaningfully, "Oh, like 'last time'. I seeee." She
felt along the wall, mumbling, "Sorry, I was in the shower. My hair's
still wet. Oops, not used to this dark yet." Her hand reached out,
patting the foot of the foot of the bed, and she touched my foot.
"Oh!" she exclaimed softly, and laughed. "Steven, that's you?"
"My foot," I answered.
"This is crazy," she said, sounding as if she were smiling.
"There, I'm starting to get used to this." She leaned forward over
the bed, her hand sliding up my leg. "You're always so warm. Why do
you guys have it so dark in here?"
"Planning a new deterrent against the Soviet menace."
"Ooooh," she said. "Better and darker bombs, for a safer world?"
Her hand moved up my leg and found my cock and she gave a pleased
"Mmm" and her hand closed around it. She asked, "Did I get here too
late, or just in time?" Her hand squeezed. "God, you're...You two
been practicing while I was out?"
"Careful," I said.
"Oh. Sorry." She removed her hand and stood up. She called,
"Martha?"
I heard the sound of a match flaring in the living room, and then
the quivering flash from a candle being lighted. Then the steady
glow from the candle leaked into the room. Ronnie stood near my feet
by the end of the bed in a fluffy terrycloth bathrobe, her face calm.
She looked down at me and smiled, and then glanced at the window while
untying her bathrobe. "Oh, you closed the curtains and everything. No
wonder it was so dark." The bathrobe slipped from her shoulders. She
let it slide to the floor. In the dim spill of light her slim, petite
torso and her long legs and arms and the cute pears of her tits were
outlined faintly in yellow. The whole scene was dreamlike, super-
natural. I lay with an arm behind my head, trying to look casual in
my haze of uncertainty as a wave of weird, indescribably libidinous
sensations swept over me.
Standing delectably naked, she pushed damp hair from the sides of
her face. "I was looking to share a dinner with you guys, but you
weren't around."
I crossed my naked legs, shyly draping a forearm across my cock.
I said, "We ate out."
"Oh." She glanced toward the living room, and I saw that she
seemed uncertain and vague in the near dark, absently plucking at
her damp hair. A muted glow delineated every detail of her willowy
figure, accentuating the contours of her girlish hips and pelvis,
casting her lower tummy into alluring darkness. Below her shadowed
womanhood a small gap between her legs enhanced the sinuous shape of
her upper thighs.
She put one knee on the bed, and as she ran both hands through her
hair she gave me an amiable wink, her dark eyes glinting with two
tiny, fiery dots of light. And I smiled back and then blushed, and
then we both blushed, with Ronnie shyly tucking her lower lip between
her teeth.
Martha came into the room and slid into bed beside me. She sat up
on her legs. She still looked tense, but her eyes had a darkly eerie
intensity. She leaned down and kissed my cheek. "Still okay with
you?"
I nodded yes.
Ronnie frowned. "What's the matter?"
Martha straightened up and looked at her. "I'm afraid I sprung
this onto Steven at the last minute. Sorry I was so indecisive."
Ronnie settled one hip onto the foot of the bed, her hand massag-
ing my leg. She smiled at Martha. "Indecisive means unable to make
up your mind. You're very decisive, Martha, you made up your mind
three or four times." Martha blushed, and Ronnie teased her, "Still
negotiating with your darkness, hm?"
Martha said uneasily, "I know." She nudged her head toward me.
"I guess Steven's not so afraid of the dark. He's the one who turned
out all the lights."
"Steven," Ronnie said, surprised, settling on the bed near my
shins with her legs folded under her. She rested a hand on my right
thigh. "Still full of surprises. Is there no end to it?" Ronnie
looked at Martha again and pushed another stray hair from her face.
She said, "I didn't expect you two were already...you know."
Martha smirked. "I told you we were. But we weren't quite that
busy yet." Martha lowered her voice. "I'm sorry, Ron."
"For what?"
"You know. Thinking."
Ronnie whispered, "Oh." Her eyes softened. She conceded, "Well.
I was thinking, too. But now I'm here -- a little on the damp side,
though, I was gonna shower and turn in early." Martha just looked at
her and Ronnie's eyes searched hers and then Ronnie put a hand on
Martha's arm and squeezed. Then she glanced around the room. "Even
with the candle, it's nice and dark."
Martha said, "Yes. Very."
"Yes," Ronnie said. Then Ronnie looked at me and leaned forward
on her arms, hovering over me, her tits barely touching my chest, and
she brought her face close to mine and whispered, "Hi, lunch buddy."
She bent and gave me a brief, sisterly kiss on the lips, and then she
raised upright again. She grinned at Martha and then at me and said,
"Steven, you realize that you're contributing to the delinquency of
two adults. You'll be happy to know I'm blushing. I don't know if
you can see that in this light."
Martha said, "Me too."
And I smiled and said to Ronnie, "Me too."
And Ronnie said to me, unsurprised, "Well, of course." She placed
her palm on my thigh again. I placed my hand on hers, and she took my
hand and held it warmly, and we smiled at each other in the dark, and
Ronnie whispered, "You're talking with your eyes again."
I said, "You too."
Martha watched us holding hands and she placed one of her hands on
ours. Ronnie looked at me and joked, "Think we should find the
Coppertone to get started?" and Martha said, "We can probably skip all
that, this time around," and I said, blushing again, "I think I have
it figured out this time." Ronnie looked down at our joined hands and
said quietly, "Well...I'm glad you called, Martha."
Martha smiled at her, and I saw the two of them gave each other
their secret glance for a second, and I wondered how long we'd just
sit there with our hands gently united. Then Martha looked down at me
with a mounting sensuousness, and she let go of our hands and slith-
ered onto her side, and while I held Ronnie's hand Martha kissed me on
my tummy. Then she moved up and kissed my ribcage and then a nipple.
Then I felt Ronnie's hand squeeze mine before leaving it. Martha ran
her inner lips around and around my nipple and then sucked. I closed
my eyes, unsure of my assigned role and wondering how far the two of
them intended to go this time around, wondering how long my cock would
hold out. While Martha moved to my other nipple I stroked Martha's
shoulders, and then I felt Ronnie's fingernails sneaking up my inner
thigh.
Martha's lips moved higher on my chest and then to my left
shoulder and to my neck. I turned my face and kissed her neck and
kissed her shoulder and then her neck, while Ronnie's fingernails
stole slowly up my thigh and then across my tummy and then randomly
back and forth below my navel.
My head fall back into the pillow again; I was getting dizzy,
feeling surrounded by arms and nipples and lips and fingernails.
I opened my eyes, blinking; yep, it was all real and this was
Martha's bedroom. Above me, Ronnie smiled at me slyly and I smiled
back, and then I closed my eyes again and Martha's lips moved to my
left nipple. She circled it. She sucked. I felt relieved that they
were both moving slowly with me, though I wondered if that meant the
three of us would be having as slow and torturous a session as we'd
had Wednesday. I let one hand stroke Martha's side and creep toward
her breasts, and I slowly ran my finger around a nipple.
Martha lifted her lips from my chest and whispered, "Careful, hon,
they're very touchy right now. You know?"
I said, "Yeah, I figured that. Don't worry."
Martha's lips circled a nipple for a while, then sucked again. I
gave a small, pleased moan, and she sucked a little harder. Then I
heard the sound of Ronnie moving and felt her settling on my other
side, my left, with her nipples on my right thigh. Her nails started
swishing over my tummy again, and then her lips settled on my right
hip. While Martha sucked my nipples and Ronnie's lips nipped across
my hip and tummy, I let my right hand caress Martha's hip and then her
backside and then I snaked my hand under her hip and under her tummy
and turned my palm upward, and then she raised her tummy a little to
let my arm slide under her. She let her body settle and I felt her
cunt pressing on my upturned palm. Ronnie's lips moved down my thigh,
and while they moved upward again with light touches of her tongue, I
bent my middle finger against Martha and felt her wet clit, and she
sighed with her mouth on my nipple. I circled her clit, and circled
it again, hearing her breath shudder a little. Her lips left my
nipple and found their way to my neck, and then she pressed her face
against mine, and as I circled her clit she breathed "Mmmm" near my
ear. Martha's hand slid down my tummy and then slid upward along my
dick. One of her fingers found the wet on my tip and her finger
smeared it around my corona and I felt her smile against my face. She
said, "You're nice and hard." I said, "You're getting wet," and she
nodded against my face and her finger circled my tip again and my dick
bobbed in the air. Martha raised her head and asked, "Getting close?"
I said, "I will be." She whispered, "I am," and I asked, surprised,
"Already?" She nodded against my face and said, "But let's take our
time."
I fingered Martha's clit and heard her breathing deepen at my ear.
Then Ronnie was moving around at my side again, and she bent down and
kissed my tummy and trailed her lips down, down, and then her tongue
slowly slid up one side of my cock and I gasped. Then her lips left
me and behind my closed eyes I wondered where her mouth had gone.
Then it reappeared, two soft lips moving around and around on my tip,
and then the lips enclosed my tip and they gave a light suck, drawing
the precum off, and I let out a quick breath. Her lips went away and
Ronnie whispered, teasing, "D'ja like that?" I let my hips settle
back onto the bed and nodded yes. Next to my face Martha gave a quiet
gasp as I circled her clit and her hips pressed into my hand, so I
stopped my finger for a moment. Then very slowly, Ronnie's lips
enclosed my tip and then slid down, past the swollen ridge, and then
down and down, and she took me all the way in, her throat almost
enclosing the tip, and I groaned, and then she sucked slowly up, and
my hips arched, and I groaned again.
Martha raised her head and I opened my eyes. She was watching me
with a smile that made her look drunk with pleasure, and she whispered
salaciously, "Her mouth feel good on your dick?"
I nodded yes, my head swimming, thinking that even though they
worked slowly on me it was still too much too fast. Then I gasped and
my eyes slammed shut as Ronnie's mouth went back down, down, and then
sucked up, and I gulped and opened my eyes and gasped, "Too good!"
Martha looked down at Ronnie as Ronnie's mouth let go of me, and
Martha touched Ronnie's shoulder. She frowned at Ronnie and said,
"Hon, careful. We might have a quick finish on our hands."
Ronnie smiled at me and said, "That's the first time I ever heard
anybody complain it was *too* good."
I smiled back at her and said, "It very nearly was."
She sat upright and rubbed my leg and said, "I'll slow down, then.
I have to remember, both of you like to make it last."
Martha told me, "Stop a minute, hon," and I moved my arm from
under her and she said, "I'm almost there, myself" She settled on her
side and caught her breath and wiped her forehead, and I saw Ronnie
grin at her and then at me, and then Martha brought her face close to
mine again. She asked, already sounding a little breathless, "Think
you can you make it last?"
I said, "Yeah. Maybe not with both of you, though." Martha
chuckled and said, "Ronnie's the guest of honor, you know," and she
turned to Ronnie and said, "Steven knows how to make it last, Ronnie,
if that's what you want."
Ronnie looked at me, unsmiling, her eyes seeming to fume quietly,
and she brushed another hair from her forehead and asked me, "Want
to?"
I looked at her, woozy with the realization of what was about to
happen.
She said, "I came prepared this time," and I watched her placid
face whose eyes said something else, their dark orbs waiting with
messages all their own. And I nodded yes.
And then Martha leaned down and put a hand on my cheek, her eyes
looking at mine, simmering, and she said, "Let's show her how we make
it good." Then she gave me a soft kiss on my mouth and then raised
her head, and there was steaming craziness in her eyes. Softly, her
words like a gull gliding, wings flapping once, excitedly, banking for
the long, spiraling flight downward, she whispered, "Fuck Ronnie."
PART 13C:
Ronnie lay with her head resting on the pillow and cradled my head
on her breast, cautioning me, "Careful. I'm a little sensitive, too,
right now." She closed her eyes peacefully while I kept my mouth easy
on her nipples. In the dark, quiet room I spent many long, long
minutes fingerfucking her and then licking until she was wet and ready
enough for my finger to slip effortlessly inside. Martha watched,
lying on her tummy on Ronnie's other side and stroking my back and
rump, kissing my shoulders.
Ronnie had condoms in her bathrobe pocket. I hovered over her on
my arms and she looked up at me as I lay between her raised knees and
she smiled mischievously as she unrolled the condom onto my waiting
cock. Then she set my tip at her entrance and placed her hands on my
shoulders and waited, her lower lip tucked in naughtily. At my side,
Martha laid a palm on my butt and watched. I pushed, cautious, past
that slight resistance just beyond Ronnie's portal, and her eyes
widened a little as I went in, and in, and as she accommodated all of
my length inside her, her eyes narrowed and she sighed. I pulled back
and slid in and then pulled out and then settled all the way inside
her again. Then I started slowly fucking. Her smile melted into a
steady gaze while I fucked. After several strokes her lips parted and
I could hear the air escape more brokenly past her lips and her gaze
grew warmer, and I was surprised when, her lips barely moving, she
whispered softly, "Fuck." It was the first time I ever heard her say
it and it was exciting, almost overcoming the deadening effect of the
rubber I wore inside her. I smiled at her as I worked with slow,
deep, gentle pumps, and I asked her, "Okay?" She murmured, "Nice,
looking in your eyes while we fuck. It's nice." I moved in and out
and watched her smile progress into a stare of arousal and concentra-
tion. She breathed excitedly, "Intense. So intense."
As my finger did on Wednesday, my cock found Ronnie narrower than
Martha, but deeper, and the dulling condom had me wondering how it
really felt inside her. The condom slowed me down; there was just
enough sensation to keep me hard in her -- that, along with Ronnie's
hypnotic gaze into my eyes. Martha moved upward on her tummy, her
face near Ronnie's. She stroked Ronnie's hair and whispered, "Does it
feel better, easy and slow?" Ronnie kept her eyes on mine and mur-
mured lazily, "Mm, yeah," and I saw her eyes enjoying the slow fuck
for a moment and she murmured to me, "Just the right size and shape.
So comfy in there." I said, "I see you feeling it in your eyes," and
Ronnie whispered "Yes. I'm feeling it," and her voice trailed off
with a whispered, "I'm feeling it." I kept moving slowly in her, both
of us breathing heavily while the pleasure simmered. Martha stroked
my back and rear, giving my butt a little squeeze and smiling at both
of us, watching Ronnie and I talking with our eyes. I gave her
several deep strokes and then I slowed for a few strokes, and then I
nestled my dick deeply in her, all the way, both of us sighing quietly
with pleasure while I held my dick still and deep. Her eyes watched
mine while I paused, my dick lurching in the rubber, the nerves in my
tip trying to ascertain what treasures lurked in her depths beyond the
latex. Then I started fucking again, slow, and her gaze warmed and
after a few strokes her eyelids fell closed and a soft sigh left her
lips and her cunt tightened briefly. Then she opened her eyes again
and her smiled curled a bit wider and she whispered, "Good." I asked
"Too slow?" She whispered "No, it's good," and after a couple of
strokes her cunt tightened briefly again and she whispered, "Just
right." It was straightforward, almost serene fucking, something I'd
seldom experienced with Martha, and apparently something new for
Ronnie.
Ronnie's smile became an unfocused gaze again while I fucked her
and I felt her cunt getting tighter around the rubber. As her excite-
ment grew her eyelids drooped frequently. Soon they closed, and her
head drifted back, and her sighs were broken by gasps and whispers. I
kept trying to maintain contact with her little clit. Usually I could
find it with the two inches or so of bare flesh near my root that the
rubber didn't cover. But my angle of entry was too low to maintain
that contact on every stroke; the covered part of my cock couldn't
feel her vividly. Increasingly, Ronnie's pelvic movements were more
frenetic and unpredictable than Martha's. I could tell that Ronnie
hadn't learned to direct her movements to help her clit attain maximum
pleasure; I had another sexual learning experience ahead.
Still, after several more slow strokes her gasps were quickening.
She wrapped her calves around my ankles, appearing to try for some
leverage for her lurching hips, and as she got more excited her legs
drifted higher, until they were soon around my waist. She said with
an increasingly heated whisper, "I'm not used to this, I'm not used to
just letting it get good like this!" She quickly wiped sweat from her
brow and returned her hand to my shoulder, holding on tight. She
whispered, "It's making me crazy."
Martha told her, "Hon, we can do this any way you want."
Ronnie whispered, getting more fiery and trying to make her pelvis
mold itself to mine, "I'm so used to heading straight for the finish
and not getting there."
I asked her, fucking steadily, "Want it that way? Or is this
better?"
Ronnie gripped my shoulders tighter and breathed fervently, "No,
this way!...Yeah...Better...Oh...OH!...So much better...oh fuck."
But I had difficulty contacting her clit, the same difficulty I'd
had using a rubber with Karen; she had her legs high around me and as
her excitement flared she kept shifting her cunt under me, subtly,
illusively. Soon I felt I might cum, not from the physical pleasure
but from the situation itself and from Ronnie's responses. But I
didn't want to climax into a rubber. I stopped again and let my dick
rest inside her. She gave a little frown and a gasp when she found
I'd stopped, so I teased her, "Shhhhh. This is where we rest a
minute."
Ronnie let her head and legs rest and took a deep breath. She
grinned at me and said, "I see. Let it get really dark, then. Like
last time." I nodded yes and she grinned again and said "Good."
After I let my dick lie snug and still inside her for a moment I
pulled out. She gave me a hug and I rested on her.
Ronnie closed her eyes, relaxing for a moment while Martha stroked
her shoulders.
Martha said to her, "See how good it can be?"
Ronnie said, "Yes. Loving. For a change." Then Ronnie opened
her eyes and looked at me and whispered, "I want to see you and
Martha."
Martha cocked an eye at her, surprised, and asked, "Steven and I?"
Ronnie looked at her, her eyes dark and intent, and she whispered,
"Does he do it the same way with you?"
"Sometimes,"
"I want to see how you do it."
Martha looked at me and asked, "Okay?"
Of course, I nodded yes.
Martha stretched out alongside Ronnie and opened her legs. Her
eyes were flaming as I settled between her thighs and I saw that she
was breathless. She whispered quickly, "Get inside me. Hurry," and I
asked her, "You're ready" and she said, "I've been ready." I touched
my dick to her tip and she gasped, "No, not with that on," and she
reached down and pulled the rubber off and put my tip in her and said,
"Now," and I entered her slow and deep and she was molten and clingy.
She asked me, "Are you close? Can you wait for me?" I nodded yes and
I asked her, "You're that close already?" She nodded quickly and
said, "Very close. That was so exciting, watching you with her," and
she swallowed hard and said, "Fuck me. Hurry." I raised on my elbows
and started working my hips and Martha closed her eyes and said, "Yes.
Good. Good." Ronnie sat up and put a hand on Martha's shoulder and
said, "Martha, you can chance it without a condom?" And Martha said,
"It's pretty safe for me right now, Ronnie," and Ronnie said, "God,
you're still using the papal method." Martha said, her eyes closing
again, "I have to feel him. And I have something I can use later...
Oh, it's good! I'm so close." Her head swayed to one side on the
pillow and she winced, moaning, "Oh, Steven." And I fucked her
steadily, feeling Martha's cunt already clinching. Ronnie caressed
Martha's arm and watched Martha enjoy it and she looked up at me and
grinned and whispered, "How do you keep going like that?" I muttered,
my voice shaky, "It feels better this way. Slow," and Ronnie watched
Martha and murmured, "God, doesn't it? I could get to like it like
that." She brushed a hair from Martha's forehead and whispered,
"Martha, I can tell it's good," and then Martha jerked her head to the
other side and she gasped, "Oh! Oh Steven!" I felt Martha's cunt
rise and tighten suddenly, and to Ronnie's amazement Martha abruptly
climaxed, gasping harshly, brokenly, and I had to move a little slower
but more ardently to hold myself back; it extended the climax for
Martha while Ronnie gripped Martha's shoulder and breathed, fascinat-
ed, "God, Martha." Martha finished her long cum with a churn of her
hips and then a jerk and a loud "Oh!" and then she let her shoulders
fall back to the bed and she gasped, "Oh, that was good!"
Immediately, I stopped moving in her. I raised on my arms,
catching my breath, my dick twitching rebelliously. I knew I couldn't
resist much longer. Martha breathed hard and heavy and looked at me
and asked, "You cummin', hon?" I hung my head and shook my head no
and uttered weakly, "But I'm close." And Ronnie said, looking up at
me, "I've never seen a guy ejaculate for real."
All of a sudden Martha and I laughed, the tension surging from us,
and I slumped on her, gasping and sniggering at the same time, and
Martha exclaimed, "What did you say? Ron, you're kidding!"
Ronnie blushed. "No, really. I never did."
Martha looked at me and we snickered together and Martha said,
"But that's ridiculous," and she looked at me sweetly and said, "Oh,
hon. And you were so close!"
I smiled slyly. "I'm still close." Martha's eyes seemed to catch
my meaning, and I said, "Remember what you liked to do now and then?
When we can't do this?"
Martha's smile turned a little kinky, and she said, "With the
cream?"
I nodded.
Martha's eyes widened naughtily and she said, "But that's so...,"
"Yeah, it is."
Ronnie gaped at us and said, baffled, "What are you guys talking
about?"
Martha looked up at Ronnie and said, "You really want him to come
out of me and see him ejaculate?"
Ronnie asked, surprised, "That's what you were talking about?"
Martha nodded, and Ronnie looked at me and then back at Martha, and
Ronnie said, "I meant I never saw a guy do it without a condom!" And
Martha and I groaned, and then Ronnie groaned with us, and she said,
"Well, they always came with a condom. Or in my mouth sometimes. Oh,
hell. I wondered what you two were getting at," and Martha said she
thought Ronnie had never seen a guy ejaculate, period. Ronnie looked
at us, and a light seemed to go on in her head and she smiled, a
crafty, sensuous smile, her eyes looking dark again, and she said,
"Well, I've...never seen it, that's true."
Martha asked, "You mean, you know, watch it spurt?"
Ronnie said coyly, "Well, I *felt* it, you know, when Steven came
the other night," and she looked at me with those suggestive eyes and
said, "I felt him, and it was very erotic. I can only imagine what it
actually looks like. But..."
Martha said, "Oh, Ronnie. Such a virgin."
Ronnie answered plainly, still looking at me, "No, I'm not. I
just never did that."
I asked her, "You never helped a guy cum with your hands, when you
couldn't have intercourse?"
Ronnie's eyes widened with recognition, and she said, "Ooooh.
*That* way!" She shrugged and sat upright and said, "Well, you know
how guys are, they'd rather walk on hot coals than cum that way. I'd
have to suck them."
I sighed in frustration and let my dick slide out of Martha, and
Martha sat up, giggling at Ronnie and said, "Well, Ronnie, let's do
*something*. He was so close. He was right on the edge."
Ronnie looked at Martha hesitantly and said, "Well, it might be
fun..." Ronnie looked at me, her eyes eager, and she asked, "Steven?
Okay with you?"
I settled on my heels, my wet cock sticking straight up in my lap,
and I wiped the sweat from my eyebrows and said sardonically, "When-
ever you ladies conclude your negotiations..."
Martha sat up, smoothing her hair back, and said, "Well, Ronnie?
Steven does like to cum that way. And I think we're driving him a
little crazy right now. You want to?"
Ronnie's dark eyes saw my cock long and hard and wet with Martha,
and she said, "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
I remained upright, seated with my legs folded under me, and
Ronnie started to settle on her tummy between my knees, the way she
had on Wednesday when she sucked me, but Martha told her to sit up
Indian-style, with her legs crossed in front of her, so her eyes would
be level with mine. Martha told her, "That way, you can watch each
other while he cums. You can watch and talk, and communicate. That's
the way I always liked it." As Ronnie got into position she murmured
eagerly, "Martha, that would be so sensual," and Martha said, "That's
the idea." Then Martha reached into her night table by the bed and
got out the hand lotion and gave it to Ronnie and said, "Here. Use
some of this. And do it slow. That way, you have time to learn about
each other's pleasures," and she added, winking at Ronnie, "And it
makes him cum harder." I straightened up on my heels, so ready to cum
that it must have been written all over my face, because Martha
grinned at me and said, "You okay?" I muttered nevously, "I'm like
Ronnie, I hope I don't get crazy." Martha smirked and said, "Well, it
was your idea. C'mon. Show Ronnie how to use her power to give
pleasure."
Ronnie spread lotion on her palms and gave Martha a teasing look
and said, "Martha, all these exotic techniques. Where'd you learn
about all this?" Martha said, settling on her knees beside me, "I ask
him what he likes. The same way he learns about what you and I like.
And I watch his eyes." Sitting before me between my knees while I
leaned back on my heels, Ronnie looked into my face while she held my
hard dick and spread lotion on it. She asked, her eyes excited and
playful, "Feel good?"
I said, "Go slow, now, let this stuff warm up a little."
She held my dick in her wet hand and said, "Now, I've never done
this. Pretend you're with a virgin," and she laughed and said,
"Remember what a virgin is?"
I smiled. "Used to be one, myself."
She chuckled at that. And while she watched my face she started
jacking me off rather quickly.
I said, "Wait. now. Hold on. Remember how you sucked me?"
"Yeah?"
"Try to do it the same way with your hand."
She said, her smile curling into a leer, "Ohhh, I seeee," and she
watched me and she closed her hand gently and pulled on me and pulled
again, letting her hand slide loosely.
I said, "A little tighter," and she held me tighter and pulled.
"No, let your hand start loose and then squeeze up, toward the tip."
"But I didn't do that with my mouth."
"But that's the way you do it with your hand."
She nodded again and breathed, "Oooh, I seee," and she watched me,
her expression playful and taunting and her eyes smoking up, and she
began to jack me off slowly, her grip tightening slightly as she
approached my tip.
I said, "Yeah. That's it,"
She whispered, "Good?"
"Yeah." Then I gasped, "I'm really close,"
She watched me, concentrating on my face.
Beside me Martha whispered, "We call it milking, Ronnie."
"Yeah. I see. It is a lot like milking, isn't it? So little
time, so much to learn." She was stroking me just right and I moaned
and her eyes kept speaking to mine and she whispered, "Yeah, you're
feeling it. I see in your eyes that you're feeling it," and she
smiled wider and whispered, her voice lazily erotic, "This is so sexy.
Watching your eyes while it gets good. I could cum just watching
you."
Martha caressed my bottom, and I could tell she was learning to
use her nails on me softly, the way she'd seen Ronnie do it. She
asked Ronnie, "See what I mean? It's so exciting to watch someone
while you help them get there."
Ronnie said, "Yeah. Yeah, I see."
"Just take it easy and learn to do what your partner wants. You
have all the power right now, Ronnie," and she grinned and added, "You
have him completely in your hands."
Ronnie smiled broadly, watching my face, and said throatily,
"Yeah. God, I don't believe this. Steven, you can always just take
the power back, and scream and yell."
I let the long-held breath out of my lungs, so close to cumming
that I could barely see her grinning face, much less talk. I gasped,
"It's good! It's good, just like this!"
She pursed her lips in a little kiss at me. My back stiffened and
my dick jumped, and I winced for a second.
She asked, "You there?"
I gasped, holding my breath, "Almost!"
"I like watching your eyes, but...I want to watch it when you cum.
Okay? I wanna see."
I caressed her eyes with mine, loving her warm, long fingers on me
even more than I thought I would, and I said, "Okay." Her eyes
twinkled naughtily and she said "Okay" in answer, and the thought
flashed through my brain that Ronnie was so damn good at this, so damn
good, her stupid boyfriends didn't know what a talent they'd wasted.
She watched my eyes while my dick strained to hold the strong pleasure
just a little longer, a little longer, and Martha whispered quickly,
"Ronnie, hold his balls with your other hand. Careful, now." and
while Ronnie watched my eyes and jerked me off, her other hand
searched and found my sack and held it gently in her palm and she
whispered, "There. You like that, huh?" I nodded and I began to
tremble holding it back and Martha kissed my shoulder, and Ronnie
milked me, watching my face. Then my balls tightened and I tensed
everywhere. My eyes began to lose focus and Ronnie could see it and
her eyebrows rose. She whispered, "Yeah. Gettin' there?" I vaguely
heard myself answer with a low, wobbling breath, "Yeah. Soon." And
somewhere near my head Martha whispered, "Let it get good, hon." I'd
let it build to as intense a level as I could, and involuntarily the
air gushed loudly from my lungs as the sweet pressure surged. I felt
the first glob of cum slurp happily from my slit, and Ronnie looked
down. My eyes slammed shut. Grunting and whimpering, I let the
orgasm have its way with me. Cum shot hard and I heard Ronnie gasp.
Then squirt and sqirt and Ronnie exclaimed softly, "Oh, yeah," and
then I winced and the cum shot hot and heavy and Ronnie said in sur-
prise "Mm!" and then she chuckled and breathed, "Steven. God!" Then
the orgasm began to ebb, and I looked down to see cum lurch weakly
over Ronnie's wrist and fingers and she milked slowly and lovingly and
crooned to my dick a motherly "Yeah, honey, yeah" as the rest of it
sobbed thickly over her hand. I gasped, resting back on my heels
again, and I saw I had squirted on her left tit as well as on her
shoulder near her neck, and on her left forearm. Martha put an arm
around my shoulder and kissed and licked my neck, and I felt that I
would just like go to sleep, right there, had I not been so giddy and
shaky with the air of raw, playful lust in the room.
While we rested Ronnie asked Martha how it felt to have a climax
during intercourse, something that had never happened for Ronnie, and
Martha tried to describe it but couldn't. But Martha suggested that
with a little rest I could get hard again, and Ronnie could find out
for herself.
Ronnie joked, "Oh, I always have a hard time. His thing would
fall off before he could give me an orgasm that way."
Martha laughed and said, "His 'thing'? His 'thing'? Oh, I
haven't heard anybody call it a 'thing' for years! His 'thing'?"
Ronnie blushed and said, "Oh, you know what I mean. Anyway, it
would fall off."
I said, "I managed to hold on before,"
Ronnie said, "Oh, but guys used to go crazy because it took me so
long, especially George. He'd just get pissed."
Flustered, Martha said, "Oh, forget George! When Steven was
inside you before, didn't you feel, you know, didn't he stimulate your
clitoris?"
Ronnie shrugged. "A little. It felt good. I seldom felt that
while someone was actually doing it. I mean, they were always in such
a hurry. You know? Just a straight line toward the payoff. Pound
now, think later. "
Martha said, "Well, Ronnie, you have to *tell* him! You were
looking in his eyes and it was so sexy for you, why don't you just
tell him? Or help him find out what you want?"
Ronnie said, "Well..." and she thought for a bit, and said to me
bashfully, "I'm afraid you'd get really frustrated and, you know,
you'd just cum and it would be over."
I said, "After the way you just made me cum, I think I could last
longer than that."
Ronnie said, "Yeah, right. You'd be hanging on the ceiling. It
always happened that way."
I said, "Trust me."
She looked at me from the corner of her eyes, smiling but
skeptical.
Martha said gently, "Well, it's up to you, Ron. You saw him wait
for my orgasm, didn't you? And he was close when he started."
Ronnie eyed both of us, and she scratched her head and shoved her
hair from her face. She muttered, "Where'd you two learn all this
stuff?" Martha and I didn't answer. Ronnie said, "Martha, you never
have a problem getting there like I do,"
Martha said, "You didn't have a problem with him before."
Ronnie said, "Well, that was different. I never had anybody go
down on me before. Not like that. Not for that long."
Martha sighed and lit a cigarette and said, "Oh, your problem is
you think about it too much and your mind gets in your way."
Ronnie said, "Yeah, maybe." Ronnie looked at me, her eyes playing
warmly with mine, and she said to me, "Well, anyway, it did feel good
before, when you we did it. Looking in your eyes like that, it was
nice. Very different."
I placed my hand on hers and said, "Yeah, it was."
She shyly averted her eyes from mine and said, "Oh, look at me. I
can't stand it."
Martha sat up on her heels and said, "Well, we have plenty of
time. And I like to cum more than once, usually, and so does Steven."
We relaxed for a while, going to the bathroom and getting a quick
drink of water, and we got back into bed. They both stroked and
sucked me until I was ready again, which took longer than we expected,
considering how heated I was. They got me huge again, and Ronnie
said, "Wanna do it again? Like before?" I said yes, but this time
Martha sat up on her heels and told Ronnie, "C'mon, Ronnie, just relax
with your head on my lap and enjoy it." Ronnie lay on her back,
relaxing with her head on Martha's knees with Martha looking down at
her from behind, and the two women whispered instructions and heated
encouragements while I lay between Ronnie's legs and primed her with
my tongue. Ronnie enjoyed having her head raised a little in Martha's
lap, she said, because it made it easier for her to look down and
watch me fuck her, and she liked Martha's hands on her shoulders and
hair, and Martha liked it because she'd be able to watch the muscles
of my back and butt working on Ronnie. Ronnie said, "Gee, I never
thought there were so many nice ways to do it. This is the sort of
thing I draw in my dark book." Martha looked down at Ronnie and said,
"You're not drawing it now, hon. You're doing it."
I invested a lot of time getting Ronnie ready; I licked her
until she was dripping and then fingered her clit and kissed her
breasts and neck until she was panting and her thighs and tummy were
quivering. Even with a condom, and even after my great orgasm under
Ronnie's hand, I was giddy with arousal but unsure how long I could
stay hard inside Ronnie. I didn't know Ronnie's body as well as I
knew Martha's. So I gave myself some leeway by exciting Ronnie with
my mouth and hands until she was near orgasm. Then I moved up between
Ronnie's legs. Ronnie put another condom on me, saying apprehensive-
ly, "I don't know how well this is gonna work, Steven. I never came
with a guy inside me. I don't have the slightest idea what to do." I
said gently, "Don't worry about cummin'. Let's just make it feel
good." I entered her, slow and deep, giving her a few hello strokes
first. Then I started fucking and Martha and I prompted her, telling
her not to raise her legs over me but to learn first how to angle her
pelvis so my cock could find her clit easier with the rubber on. After
a while I found ways to sense her needs with my strokes and I had my
cock probing her and contacting her clit just as she wanted me to, and
the techniques and the pleasure were all new for her. Ronnie smiled
up at me in surprise and said, "Yeah. Yeah, I see what you mean now.
Oh, I *feel* it! Oh! Keep doing that! Mmm, it's good. It's so
good." Martha asked Ronnie if she were comfortable and told her that
it felt best when her body was comfortable, but Ronnie was quickly
growing agitated and she gasped, "Who cares if I'm comfortable, it
works! God, it's good!" She watched me going in and out and looked
up at me, and I whispered, "Feel it now?" and she grinned, looking
happily inebriated and surprised, and she whispered "Yes." I let my
hips settle into the movement we had just discovered for her, and I
asked, "Just like that?" and she whispered "Yes" and she watched my
eyes. After several strokes she said in the same, heated whisper "I
feel it getting dark. I feel like I'm...sinking into my dark. Can
you feel it? Can you tell?" and I nodded yes while I fucked and said,
"It's in your eyes," and her blue eyes glowed with a deep, moist blue
and she smelled humidly and more strongly of sage. She whispered
lazily, raptly, "Me, too. So good. So sweet good." Martha looked
down into Ronnie's face and stroked Ronnie's arms, and while Ronnie
gazed at me her eyes dilated and her eyes and words kept my cock stiff
inside the rubber and made me want to stroke more ardently into her.
Her eyelids began to lower and then they closed, and she whispered,
"Steven. It's so good." And I was glad to hear her say it, glad to
watch her falling slowly into mindless pleasure, becauae I wanted to
cum and I'd been working inside her for almost fifteen minutes.
While my cock slid in her she gripped my shoulders and through the
rubber I could feel her cunt suck, feeding on every stroke. Her
closed eyes began to tighten, relax, tighten, relax. She whispered
dreamily, happily, "I'm a little girl. A soft, wet...fucking little
girl...Fucking...Really fucking." She seemed to drift deeper, far-
ther, her soft smile growing more elated, and she moaned a breathy
"Ooooh!" and seemed to float in a distant world for a moment. Then
she tensed, and she circled her hips once, grounding her clit against
my cock, and she hissed, "Ah, it's so good!" Then she eased up a
little and seemed to float dreamily again. I fucked her lovingly and
steadily, starting to ache on my arms but too captivated by Ronnie's
rapture to waver, wanting to make it good for her, and soon I saw her
head sink back, her lips parting, and her nails tightened on my arms,
and for several strokes she seemed to sink even deeper, her closed
eyes and face seemingly in a trance. Her head near Ronnie's, Martha
watched her patiently, holding Ronnie's hand, and she whispered, "Yes,
hon. Yes." I couldn't take my eyes away from this woman on her way
to her first time cumming with a cock inside her, and I felt an odd
lust grip me, as if I were deflowering her and we were all sharing the
lust of a first-time fuck. But abruptly her closed eyes and face took
on an anxious frown, and the growing tension in her body mounted. She
whimpered, her tone feeble and troubled, "Don't stop! Don't let me
lose it," and I whispered, "I won't. Don't worry, I won't." She
whimpered again, wincing, signs of struggle in her face, and she
moaned, "Oh, it's leaving me!" And Martha bent down to caress her
temples and she urged with earnest whispers, "Shh, it's okay, he'll
get you there. Don't try so hard, hon. Just let it happen." And
Ronnie kept her eyes shut tight and her teeth clenched.
I slowed but didn't stop, searching and testing for what she
wanted, changing my short, deep strokes to longer, slower ones,
undemanding, unhurried, and through the rubber on the upper part of my
root I felt the small, firm, vague nub that had eluded me. I realized
that Ronnie's clit was higher in her slit than Martha's, so I shifted
upward on her torso and stayed deeper in her, and as I stroked in her
the anguish in her face began to calm and her eyelids relaxed and she
whispered, happy but urgent, "Yeah. That's good. It's good." And I
whispered down to her, "Easy, now. Easy." Her closed eyes and her
smile was more contented and her head began to relax backward again
and she breathed, "Ahh, yeah." And as I fucked her, her pleasure
slowly mounted again and her pelvis began to shift as it had before.
So I stayed deeper, my root firmly against her clit, and I let my
abdominals do the work, my butt flexing tightly and my balls resting
pleasurably on her as I held my hips still and used my tummy and butt
to hump snugly against her, and then her lips parted and I saw a
blissful smile begin to spread across her face. She sighed, "Oh there
it is...oh god...oh yes...oh there it is," and a few strokes later she
groaned, low-pitched and loud, "There! Oh there," and then suddenly
her hands were on my flexing butt, nails digging in. Her body froze
and her head jerked forward and stayed there, still and taut, her
teeth clenched, and I subtly slowed so it would last for her. Her
cunt contracted as she gasped and trembled and winced, winced harder,
and then she started cumming with a sharp, furious "Uh!" Her slim
hips yearned up, off the bed, and her pelvis quivered while she jerked
and whimpered through it, and Martha watched her with narrowed,
fascinated, staring eyes, and she whispered to Ronnie, "Good. Good."
After several tense seconds it was over, and Ronnie relaxed, shudder-
ing, and breathed, "Jesus!" I held her for a while, easing my tummy
that was beginning to burn with effort. Martha covered my neck and
shoulders with warm, sticky kisses. I gulped air, and then relaxed on
Ronnie, thanking Fiore a thousand times over for helping me work on my
hips and tummy. Softly I kissed Ronnie's chest and shoulders and her
neck, my lips enjoying the feel of supple muscle and tendon along her
throat, and I tongued the tight, slightly sweaty flesh there as she
gulped. I let my lips trail down to kiss and lick her heaving chest,
to lick softly and carefully the small, peaked nipples. Her long arms
curled listlessly around my neck and shoulders. I raised on my arms
again and looked down at her, at the lithe body exhausted with
pleasure, her head back and her eyes closed while she panted. She
gasped weakly, "Sorry. I took so long." I said gently, "We don't
accept I'm sorry's for that." She grinned and opened her eyes, still
panting, and she watched my face while one of her arms around my neck
loosened and she let a hand stroke down my neck and then across my
chest while she smiled at me. Martha's fingers stroked her shoulder
and Ronnie took Martha's hand and squeezed it and looked up at her,
and Martha asked her, "Good?" She nodded yes and looked at me again
and said breathlessly, "Dark good." Ronnie swallowed and sighed a
deep, relaxing sigh and said to me, "And you keep saying you have a
lot to learn. I kept thinking you'd just finish and roll away." I
told her, "No. Don't like it that way." She draped her arms around my
shoulders again and asked, "Did you finish?" I shook my head no, and
she frowned. I said, "One good effect of that rubber is that it slows
me down." She said, concerned, "Oh, Steven, I'm...What can I do?" I
grinned and said, still breathing fast, "I'll get there." Ronnie's
eyes searched my face, and she asked, "Want to cum in my mouth?" I
said, "Just rest for now." I bent to kiss her delectable neck and
throat again, and while I did it Martha used the back of her hand to
softly and slowly stroke Ronnie's damp forehead and shoulders.
I rose high on my arms again and looked down at Ronnie, her eyes
closed restfully and her face leaning to one side, framed by black
curls ruffled by our fucking. She was limp and lovely in the dim
yellow glow, luscious and feminine and utterly naked. And the sight
of her made me want to cum in her, to know the feeling of her inner
flesh. I knew it wouldn't be the same, though, inside that rubber.
Above my head, Martha said, "You were very good to her, Hon." I
looked up at Martha, and she smiled at me, soft and loving, and she
bent down and kissed my forehead. Right away, I knew how I really
wanted to finish: inside Martha.
Gently, I pulled out of Ronnie, and she whispered, "I'm sorry," and
I whispered earnestly, "It's okay." I kissed Ronnie's cheek and I
whispered again, "It's okay." Her arms slipped from me as I sat back
on my heels and wiped the sweat from my eyes and neck, and I looked at
Martha, who carefully lifted Ronnie's head off her knee and lowered it
to the bed, and she bent and gave Ronnie's shoulder a little kiss and
then she looked up at me, her eyes moist, and she rose to her knees
and smiled at me. And I wanted Martha. I had fucked soft, slender
Ronnie with a uniquely gentle lust. But I needed Martha's love and
broiling passion and the raw, intense pleasure of her. I needed her
graceful body and I needed her flesh around my cock. I pulled the
rubber off me and flipped it off the bed, and Martha smiled and held
out her arms.
Everything seemed to merge into a long, blurred, single moment of
flaming lust. I moved to Martha and lay beside her and we hugged, and
she lay back and opened her legs and pulled me onto her, and I raised
on my arms and I entered her, and she sighed, "Ahhh, your cock." And
we whispered while I screwed her, not the sweet utterances of Ronnie,
but the lewd, secret idioms of our familiar lust. Ronnie watched and
listened, her eyes seeming to absorb everything we said and did. Soon
Ronnie was on her knees beside me, kissing my back and then my neck
and then nipping my ear, and her warm, soft lips made me groan and
quake, and she whispered in my ear, "Fuck," and she kissed down my
neck and then back up and then licked my earlobe and whispered,
"Fuck." I tried to fuck slow and deep to make it last longer, but I
was soon gasping, delirious with pleasure. Martha grinned up at me,
while down below she caressed my tummy with her fingernails, and when
I whimpered and huffed I saw her eyes and her mouth smile as they
seemed to relish the results of the two of them sweetly torturing me.
And Ronnie's lips closed on my earlobe and tightened and pulled, and I
groaned, getting out of control. Then her lips sucked hard on my neck
and I thought oh shit I heard of love-bites but I never knew, oh shit
they're nice they're so nice. And then Martha's cunt sucked at me,
sucking hard and wet and she knew I would cum soon and she was making
it so good, so good, and Ronnie sucked lower on my neck. I was done
for, just plain kidnapped, blackmailed, devastated, and I felt the
climax on its way, felt the inevitable tickle and pressure in my gut
and balls that told me this was the one I wouldn't be able to stop.
When my hip-pumping became arduously slow and resolute I began to
moan, and Martha frantically told Ronnie, "Put your fingers under his
balls. Hurry, Ronnie, he's so close!" I felt Ronnie's long fingers
slip over my butt and then search under my scrotum and I gasped,
"Higher!" And she pressed and then found the knot of muscle and I
whimpered, I gasped, "Yes!" and Ronnie whispered, "There?" and I
hissed, "Yes!" She pressed the muscle and then I squirted, and my
head dropped and I squirted and squirted, and I heard Ronnie gasp,
"God, Martha, yeah." In my dim vision through cloudy eyes Martha
grinned at me and her eyes were flaming and eerie and crazed and her
cunt squeezed and she asked with a greedy smile, "Good?" and one word
gushed breathlessly from me, "Fuck!" My eyes snapped shut while I
soared into the heights of an unbelievable orgasm, with Ronnie's
fingers under my balls and the astonishing, sudden pleasure of her
lips on my left buttock, and I growled "Fuck!" And finally it slowed,
and my hips slowed and slowed and slowed, and my dick savored the last
of it with long, deep, weary dips into Martha, and then I settled onto
her, my elbows giving out. My damp face sank onto her shoulder and I
lay limp, my dick pulsing emptily with waning echoes of pleasure.
But it wasn't over. I felt Martha clinging and trembling, her
hands on my butt pressing me needfully into her, and she gasped, "I'm
cummin'!. Oh hon I'm--" I kept my tummy against hers, knowing that
Martha knew how to finish that way. And she did, taut and gasping,
her fingers digging into my backside, her cunt drippy with me and
swirling voraciously against my root, and she gasped hotly, "Good!
Ohgood!" And then she jerked twice and clung to me, slowing down
suddenly, her hot panting wetting my shoulder, both of us now fighting
for breath, and I asked with my mouth against her neck, "All right?"
and she rasped, "Yes! It was good! Ahhh, it was good!" And while we
settled down, two humid bodies neatly stuck to each other, Ronnie
stroked Martha's cheek and then kissed it and then kissed my cheek.
And while Ronnie caressed us, Martha kissed my shoulder and gave my
neck a long lick and then gave my ear a smooch. She hugged me,
hugging as if I were a teddy bear. She wrapped her legs around my
hips and squeezed all of me against all of her. And then she relaxed,
stroking the back of my neck. I didn't, and couldn't, move at all.
All I could do was lie on her and pant.
Then Ronnie gently kissed my neck and ear and gave my butt a final
squeeze. I heard her get off the bed, onto the floor. She searched
through her robe pockets and then she lit a cigarette. Then she
settled on the bed where she had been beside me and where I still lay
like a dead body on top of Martha. She rested a warm hand on the
small of my back and I heard her exhale. The odor of her cigarette
wafted around us. She whispered, "Want one, Martha?" Martha said,
"Not yet. I like to hold him for a while." Ronnie said, "That was
nice, the way he held me like that," and Martha said, "Yes," and
Ronnie said, "It was sweet." She took another puff. Then Ronnie
said, joking, "I do feel like a virgin!" Martha said, "You mean,
recently a virgin," and Ronnie chuckled, "Right." Then Ronnie
squeezed my butt and said, "I think we got him, Martha." Martha said,
"I knew we would." And Ronnie's mouth was near my ear again and she
teased, "Did we getcha?" I had to say, surrendering to my victors,
"Yeah. You did." And I had to admit, they had really, really "got"
me.
After we rested, Martha and Ronnie got themselves together
for a trip to the little bathroom, with Martha gathering the empty
condoms and telling Ronnie, "Let's get rid of these rubbers." Ronnie
kidded her, "Up here we call 'em condoms," and Martha said with
loathing, "They're rubbers." While they used the bathroom I took a
rinsing shower in the kitchen. Then I lay waiting in the bed,
wondering what was taking them so long in the bathroom. They were
talking and bumping into each other and giggling. They finally
emerged, Ronnie looking as if she were ready to frolic again and
Martha's face looking contented but tired.
We rested again and got into a long, poetic, whispering session
with Ronnie about her drawings of darkness. Martha was getting
sleepy. As Martha dozed off, Ronnie and I talked about her other
drawings. Ronnie said, "Tonight was like many of the things I've been
drawing for years, but I never thought my pictures would come alive."
While we talked she began stroking my hips and legs, and I stroked
hers, and we began to talk about the sexual symbols that were so
prominent in medieval art and that people no longer recognized, and as
she began to talk about medieval symbols for the devil I congratulated
her on her impressive knowledge of art history, and lying on her side
she raised one knee so I could slide a finger into her. She said,
surprising as well as exciting me by sounding so nonchalant, "You're
very sexy, you know that? You seem to get off by giving me pleasure.
That's very sexy." She took a drag off her cigarette and flicked
ashes into the ash tray that was between us and she joked, hardly
seeming upset, "Martha and I are just two witches, robbing you of your
innocence like this." I said, sliding my finger out and then in
again, admiring the shape of her raised thigh, "I was corrupt a long
time ago." She breathed a small laugh and said, "Oh, yes, this is
very, very corrupt. And yet it's me, strangely me. Mmmm, that's
good. Slow like that. Mmm. But I don't know that it's so corrupt, I
mean, for centuries every civilized country in the world was marrying
off their twelve and thirteen year old kids to princes and queens
twice their age, three times their age. I think sex is much more
intense when you're younger. More honest, anyway." She stroked my
cock and said, "Think you'll cum again?" I said I doubted it, but I
told her, "It doesn't matter. I like it, just doing this." I
borrowed a line from Martha and said, "You're allowed to be selfish
now and then." She gave a small, wry smile and said, "Oh, you. You
and Martha are both so erotic. I heard you two talking a minute ago,
I thought people only talked like that in their fantasies. It's very
erotic. Really." She puffed on her cigarette and said, quietly, her
eyes on her my hand between her legs. "I'm making some very interest-
ing...assumptions about two in Memphis. Very interesting. I don't
care if they're true. They're exciting. They're very, very excit-
ing." Her eyes closed. "Mmm. Ahhhh." She opened her eyes and
looked at me. "So don't say anything, Steven. Just keep doing that.
Let me just make assumptions. And I'll put them in my dark books.
I'll keep them to myself." She closed her eyes for a moment and my
finger found her clit and she breathed, "Mmmm," and she whispered,
"I'd never do this with anyone. But the three of us...Ooohh, the
three of us...my god..."
She spoke only a couple of times after that, her eyes closed while
she enjoyed my hand, and I fingerfucked her until she came again.
She sighed, "Another first," her hips pumping as she finished, and she
breathed while she rested, "It gets easier every time. And better."
Soon we were all asleep. I awoke in the dim light and saw Ronnie
getting dressed. She smiled at me and gave me a little kiss. Then
she looked at me and put a palm against my cheek and said, "That was
good. That was good and dark and wonderful. I want to leave Martha
alone with you. She really cares for you, Steven. You know that,
don't you?" I nodded yes, afraid to say anything about it. And she
looked at me with a quiet intensity in her eyes for a couple of
seconds, and then she bent down and touched her lips to mine, letting
them linger, and she rose her head and whispered, "Thank you and
Martha for so much pleasure."
Then she shifted carefully on her knees toward Martha, who was
still asleep beside us, and softly kissed Martha's cheek. Then she
slid off the bed and tied her bathrobe and crept out of the apartment,
blowing out the candle as she left.
Martha slept. As I looked at her I thought of all the forbidden
paths we had taken and wondered how many new ones there could be.
Each path was a one-way journey.
I felt a strange sense of both discovery and loss. It was all a
phantasm, too wild and incalculable to grasp. My mind churned, my
chest fluttered. How did I end up here? I lay on my back with my
arm cradling Martha's head. I wanted to sleep near Martha, where I
felt I'd be safe.
While I was lying half awake late the next morning, Martha sat up
in bed and gave me a good-morning kiss on the forehead and told me to
keep on sleeping. She seemed subdued and preoccupied, and she ap-
peared to be in no mood to talk about much of anything.
Although I was still tired, I got out of bed and walked to 86th
Street anyway for the Sunday Times. Then I decided to run. I refused
to let myself miss a day, knowing where it could lead. It was not a
good run; I was listless again, my mind straining to comprehend all
that happened that week with the two women. And from the way that
Martha and Ronnie had been talking in their secretive way, I suspected
Martha was troubled by something. And I was troubled as well, unsure
where our unlikely threesome would lead.
When I returned to Martha's she was in her bathrobe at the dining
table, hundreds of sheets of papers spread before her. She said,
"Still at it, huh?"
I said, "I have to."
She said, "I know."
I announced, "Today I'm making a roast for dinner."
She said, "Okay."
I waited for more. But she simply kept scanning and marking the
papers.
I strolled outside to a meat market and found a nice hunk of roast
and worked on it in Martha's kitchen for an hour while she read a
long, long folded computer printout. She hardly spoke. Late in the
afternoon it started drizzling again outside. I got dressed to go to
Ronnie's for my posing session. I stopped at the front door and said
to Martha, "I'm going to Ronnie''s to pose for a couple of hours."
"Okay," she said.
I waited. Then I said, "Do you feel all right?"
"Yes. I'm sorry. I'm just tired. And very, very behind on this
work."
"Well, I'd ask you what's going on, because all day I've had the
feeling I did something wrong, but..."
She said, "You didn't, Steven. Of course you didn't. And don't
worry about it. We'll talk, as soon as I can figure it out myself."
She looked up at me. "Okay?" She threw me a little kiss.
"Okay," I said.
She smiled at me and said, "You're doing fine. Get out of here
and get to work."
I knocked on Ronnie's door and she opened up with a bright smile
and said, "Hi! Right on time. You're so much on time, I'm late."
She let me inside and gave me a quick hug, asking, "Can you handle
a hug today?" I said yes, and she tightened the hug and then closed
the door. She showed me into her bedroom, where she had a big purple-
flowered easy-chair and easel set up in one corner. On the other
side of the room was a small two-seater lounge covered with various
colors of dropcloth. There was a little desk and a chest of drawers
along one wall. No bed.
I asked, "Well, uh...where do you keep the bed?"
She laughed, picking up a small wooden box and carrying it across
the room. "Well, *you* sure don't waste any time, do you?" She gave
me a little peck on the cheek. "Won't do you any good today, bud.
This is gonna be a-a-all work." She set the box on the arm of the
chair near the easel and pointed to the covered lounge. "See that big
door behind the little sofa? That's the bed. It folds into the
wall. Ever see anything like that in Memphis? Martha has one, too,
but it's covered with furniture. Hers doesn't have a bed inside. We
have no idea what happened to it."
She fluttered about the room, moving things around, and said,
"You're gonna pose on that sofa there."
"Okay," I said. "My life is in your hands. I don't have the
slightest idea what I'm doing."
"Of course not. I have to show you. The first thing is, natural-
ly, to get undressed."
I blushed. "Here we go again."
She laughed, "You still worried about that?"
I just smiled, unbuttoning my shirt.
She kidded me, "Well, I'll just put a washrag on it."
I grinned slyly. "Maybe you should use a towel?"
She laughed again, out loud, and nudged my shoulder, "No, no. That
won't be a problem. You'll see. Anyway--" She put her hands on her
hips and watched me undress. "I'll make an announcement right now
that'll keep you under control. It works on other guys, anyway.
Thanks to all that activity last night, I just started my period. A
day early. There, does that help?"
I smirked, removing my shoes. "I think Martha's having hers, too.
That's one reason I'm glad I could spend an afternoon out of her
hair."
"Yeah, that's about right," Ronnie said, going to the little box
on the big chair and opening it. "Martha and I usually start about
the same time. Not always, but usually. Sisters to the core, me and
Martha." Then she rummaged in the box and said, playfully gloomy,
"Oh, Steven, Martha and me incapacitated at the same time. Tch, tch.
Your vacation is ruined. Just ruined!"
She instructed me in several basic poses. One was very similar to
the stance of a discus thrower, a pose she wanted me to learn because
"it's popular, it's not easy to hold for very long. But it highlights
the lats and the thighs, and you have very nice lines on you there."
I seemed most comfortable and natural in a reclining position on the
length of the little lounge sofa, facing her and slightly on my side,
my legs partially folded and my chin resting on one hand. And what-
ever fantasies I might have had before we started. they were dispelled
when she got to work. She was a total professional, so engrossed in
the artboard and her pencils and charcoals and pastels that I often
felt she ignored me completely were it not for her occasional glances
at me. She spoke very little, asking now and then how I was doing, or
giving me a tip about how to keep from feeling too cramped in one
position, or asking me to move a leg or hold my hands a certain way.
She spoke very little. Ronnie worked assiduously, the pastels
continually rasping and scraping across her drawing papers. Now
and then she would tear off a page and let it float to the floor, and
from what I saw of the discarded drawings I surmised that this lady
was no slouch in the talent department. And she seemed engrossed,
enjoying her work immensely, at one point getting so wrapped up in it
that she had to stop and open the windows wider and aim the electric
fan right onto her.
During a break she said, "You're kinda restless. You have to
learn to get over that, if you want to take me up on my offer for
posing for other people."
I said, "Well, if it's okay with Martha."
She said, getting back to her work, "You let me worry about
Martha."
I didn't respond to that remark. In my doomsday way I saw it as a
signal that somehow this development with Ronnie could possibly form a
wedge of some kind that could be troublesome for all of us. At any
rate, it seemed that way to me.
After a couple of hours Ronnie abruptly stopped working, rose from
her chair and sighed wearily, looking around at the drawings spread on
the floor all over her part of the room. "Well! That was great!
Steven, that was great! You're not that easy to draw, because your
figure is somewhat unique, but that was great!" She wiped her hands
on her shirt and walked to me to give me a quick peck on the cheek. I
expected, and probably may even have wished, that she would grab my
cock. But she simply rushed away, headed for the bathroom, saying, "I
gotta wash this pastel off my hands. You can get dressed now. And
thank you, thank you so much. It was a real workout for me."
And that was it, very clean-cut and businesslike. When I was
dressed she came out of the bathroom, drying her hands and arms, with
a big smile on her face. "There. Think you could control yourself
and make some money doing this?"
I told her it was worth a try. As Ronnie shuttled me out of the
place she reminded me that it was Sunday and we'd all have to be on
our way to our Sunday night movie soon. For the rest of the night she
didn't mention anything to Martha about posing. And Martha didn't
appear to be in a spectacularly cheerful mood anyway. And for some
reason, before, during, and after the movie, no one mentioned the
previous night's tryst. No one mentioned a "next time". It was as if
the affair was simply another happening, like the beach or the movie,
or whatever we did together. During the movie Martha's hand was still
but warm in mind, and Ronnie's was affectionate and playful. I sat
ignoring the movie altogether, wondering what the hell was going to
happen to the three of us.
As Martha returned to bed she seemed a little sullen. Then while
I was in the bathroom washing my face, I heard her swearing in the
bedroom, "Damn!"
I peeked out the bathroom door and asked, "What's wrong?"
She was bent over on the bed, on her hands and knees, looking at
the sheet. "I started. I started while I was taking a nap. I hate
it when it does that. Now I have a stain."
Great, I thought. Both of them at once. Time for more lessons in
handling grown-up realities.
Continued. . .
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