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Message-ID: <28484asstr$979949404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: anon584c@nyx.net (Uther Pendragon)
Subject: {ASSM} Heart Ball (mf pett rom m-solo; MF cons f-solo toys) 04/10
Date: Fri, 19 Jan 2001 19:10:04 -0500
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IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to 
read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do 
something else.

    This material is Copyright, 2001, Uther Pendragon.  All 
rights reserved.  I specifically grant the right for all 
reproduction necessary for normal Usenet propagation.  I 
specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping ONE 
electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice 
is included.  Reposting requires previous permission.

     Many of my other stories can be found at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www

    If you have any comments or requests, please E-mail them to 
me at anon584c@nyx.net.  

     If you save erotic stories and you prefer that other 
household members not be exposed to them, I recommend that you 
use a file zipped with the PKZip option -spassword.  (Where the 
password that you choose would, presumably, not be "password.")  
This still leaves the titles of the files and the fact that they 
are encrypted open to anybody.

    All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as 
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination 
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly 
coincidental.

                      #     #      #     #

                       HEART BALL     .04
                       by Uther Pendragon



Steve showed up, by design, well before Shannon.  Peggy looked a 
lot like a warm lump to him, and one who didn't smell that nice.  
Amy, on the other hand, was as bright as Shannon had suggested.  
Besides, Peggy wasn't going to report any wrongdoing; they 
didn't need her good will.

Amy was used to playing second fiddle to her new sister.  When 
Steve's attention concentrated on her, she responded tenfold.  He 
used a histrionic voice for reading her books, and Amy was 
charmed.  She was getting in serious lap time when Shannon showed 
up.  Shannon's arrival, which always heralded her mother's 
departure, was bad news.  Ten minutes after her parents were out 
the door, however, Steve was reading *Horton Hatches an Egg* for 
the third time.

Shannon didn't know whether to be jealous of Amy for capturing 
her boyfriend's attention, or of Steve for having a lap that Amy 
clearly preferred to her own.  Then Peggy needed attention, and 
each of them had a kid to deal with.  "Okay," Shannon said when 
Amy's bed time rolled around.  "Do you want to walk to your room, 
or do you want me to carry you?"

"Teef!" Amy said, and triumphantly rode down the hall in Steve's 
arms.  Shannon did most of the work, but Steve did the lifting 
and tucking in necessary to put Amy to bed.  They both kissed her 
good night.

"And what," Steve asked when they were again in the living room, 
"do Mommy and Daddy do when their kids are tucked in?"

"They check their watches because the four-year-old is going to 
want a glass of water in five minutes."  That wasn't really true 
of Amy, though, and Shannon didn't mind spending the time 
kissing, so long as that was all they did.  They broke to put 
Amy's books back on her shelf, but ten minutes later Shannon was 
lying down with Steve kissing her.  When he reached for the 
bottom of her skirt, she grabbed his arm.

"Do you know when to stop?" she asked.

"When you tell me to."

"What if I set a limit now?"

"Are you telling me to stop, now?"  And, he wondered, what is 
stopping?  Does she want my hand outside her skirt?  If so, why a 
skirt?

Instead of answering, she hiked up her skirt.  It was tight.  She 
didn't have many full ones that weren't also too dressy for 
babysitting.

"Are you telling me to stop?" Steve asked.

"Not yet.  Just establishing that you will."

"You are weird, Shannon.  Beautiful but weird."  He was quite 
happy to go back to kissing her, though.  And his lips and hand 
brought her to her crisis once again.  This time, when she pulled 
his hand from between her legs, she brought it to her mouth and 
kissed it.  That made him feel much better.  He knew about 
wanting the stimulation to stop, and didn't mind that she felt 
that way; he just didn't want her rejecting him.  He cradled her 
as much as the awkward position allowed.

They stayed like that until Peggy's cries interrupted them.  This 
time she was wet and messy.  Shannon changed her and gave her a 
pacifier, but Steve was holding her when the Jensens came home.

Mrs. Jensen shed her coat and recaptured her baby in one 
continuous motion.  She gave Steve an odd look before hurrying 
down the hall.

Mr. Jensen drove them home.  "Was Amy all right?" he asked.

"She was perfectly sweet," Steve said.  "Shannon was right about 
her."

"Humph," said Shannon.  "She tried to steal my boyfriend.  There 
wasn't a sign of the asthma, though.  That's what he was asking, 
Steve."  

                              - = - 

Steve normally got paid on the third and the eighteenth of every 
month.  Conscious of his employees' needs, Hauksbee got the payroll 
done by Saturday the sixteenth.  Steve got to the bank in the 
last half hour it was open.

"I'm sorry," the cashier said.  "This account needs two 
signatures for withdrawal."  Steve knew that, but it wasn't a 
withdrawal.  

"I'm making a deposit.  This is a check.  I've done this twice a 
month for more than a year now."

"I *know* that it is a check, sir; but, technically, you are 
depositing the check and withdrawing the cash.  We don't enforce 
that rule when the cash is a trivial amount, but you are asking 
for more than half the check in cash."

"I need that money for my Christmas shopping."

"Well, I can't give you more than seventy-five dollars."

He took it.

                              - = - 

The ball that night was called "Reindeer Ramble."  They both 
enjoyed themselves greatly at the dance, Steve enjoyed himself a 
little less afterwards.  The parking time was spent more in talking 
than in petting.

"I'm not saying no to you, Steve," Shannon said.  "I'm saying no 
to the time and the place.  You do see that?"  She'd have to 
remember this, though, when she bought a dress for the 
Valentine's Day Ball.

"I see it, Shannon.  I love you.  Look, I want things that I 
can't have.  I'm willing to wait for things I can't have 
*tonight*.  Besides, although I shouldn't admit it to you, 
dancing with you in my arms is a sexual experience."

"You're right," she said.  "You shouldn't have admitted it.  
I just thought that you had brought a sausage in your pocket."

"Shannon!"  Steve was a little bit shocked.  He was also amused 
and aroused.  "Can we -- at least -- kiss?"

They did, until it was time to take her home.  After they parted 
at her doorstep at precisely eleven, they made their separate 
preparations in their separate houses to ready themselves for 
their separate beds.  There, finally, they met again -- but only 
in their separate imaginations.

                              - = - 

Steve knocked at the Bryants' door the afternoon of the next day.

"Hello, Steven," Mrs. Bryant said.  "Shannon's not here.  The 
church youth group is rehearsing carols.  I'm surprised that you 
didn't know."  Shannon seemed to know, Allison thought, 
*Steven's* every move.

"That's why I'm here.  Could you sneak that under the tree before 
your family opens presents."  He handed her a bag containing a 
box.

"Come in a moment, won't you."  She searched up the present 
Shannon had bought Steven.

Looking at the gorgeous wrappings, Steve felt guilty.  "I had the 
store wrap hers," he said.

"Probably just as well."  Kids, she thought as she watched him 
walk to his car, had such tender egos.

"I gave Steven your present," she told Shannon when she got home.  
"He came by."

"What did he want?"

"I'm sworn to secrecy."  But Allison was not willing to live with 
her daughter's worrying for a week about whether Steve would get 
her a present.  She would be bad enough wondering what it was.

                              - = - 

Steve's father advanced him the cash for the rest of his 
Christmas shopping.  Steve would sign over his check next payday, 
and get his dad's check for the difference.

Over the Christmas break, Steve and Shannon got to see each other 
occasionally and to talk on the phone a lot.  Most of their 
meetings were, however, in public and in the light of day.  
Mallory was back from college, and Steve's parents insisted that 
the family do things together.  Besides, she hogged the phone and 
accused Steve of doing that himself.

                              - = - 

Saturday, Shannon had another baby-sitting job from Mrs. Green.  
Steve had previously promised to work that night, relieving Mrs. 
Thompson, but he could stop by afterwards.  

That was the only thought that kept her sane while the little 
monsters were awake.  When she finally got them to bed, however, 
they slept the deep, dreamless sleep of the conscienceless.  
Mrs. Green had, indeed, moved her diaphragm from the medicine 
cabinet, making Shannon's earlier worries unnecessary.  

That checked, she put her frazzled spirit back together, finished 
the dinner she'd abandoned when the boys had finished theirs, and 
cleaned up the worst of the mess.  She checked on the boys one 
last time and settled down with one of Mrs. Green's bodice-
rippers to prepare herself for Steve's visit. 

Their first kiss was brief.  "Brrr," she said. 

"Well, let me get this coat off," he replied.  That accomplished, 
he kissed her again. 

"Your hands are still cold as ice." 

"Cold hands, warm heart," he claimed.   

"And what do cold lips demonstrate?" 

"That I'm a healthy dog?" 

"That's a cold nose, silly." 

"I have that too," he said.  "I remember now.  Cold lips are an 
infallible sign that the sufferer hasn't been kissed enough by 
Shannon." 

"Does that mean that I should stop kissing you when your lips get 
warm?" 

"Warm lips are a sign that the sufferer hasn't kissed Shannon 
enough." 

She wouldn't let him put his hands on her, though, even over her 
clothes.  He broke the foolishness to use the bathroom.  He 
washed his hands afterwards, rinsing them for minutes under the 
hottest water that he could stand. 

"Much better," she said when he came out and cupped her face for 
another kiss.  Soon, she was lying on the couch with him kneeling 
on the floor beside it.  Their tongues played together while he 
slipped his hands under her blouse and up to her breasts.   

She relaxed into the familiar pleasures, only shaken when he 
first kissed her breasts.  His face was still a bit chilly.  His 
hand was not, however.  It slid up her leg and then stroked down. 

Steve found her breasts marvelously warm as well as soft.  Her 
nipple puckered firmly for his mouth even more rapidly than 
usual.  Convinced that he would be allowed access to her pantied 
mound at the culmination of the evening, he tantalized himself, 
and (he hoped) Shannon, by approaching this treat very slowly.  
He got into a rhythm of moving his hand upwards well above her 
leg and then resting it on the skin to stroke down her thigh.  
The smoothness of the soft curves under his hand was hypnotic, 
and he had to remind himself to switch breasts.   

Shannon wallowed in the sensations coming from the licking and 
suction on her breast and the gentle caresses on her thigh.  
Steve's slow and gentle approach reminded her that she could 
trust him and relax.  Moreover, since he was doing it, she didn't 
need to think of what to do next.  After a bit, however, she was 
ready for a next stage which seemed slow in coming.  When he 
leaned across her to reach her other breast, she expected the 
clasp of his hand.  It didn't come.  She raised her knees and 
spread them as much as the couch allowed.  

Despite the discomfort in his groin, Steve felt that he could go 
on stroking Shannon's soft curves forever.  Then she adjusted her 
position in clear invitation.  For one moment, he was tempted to 
climb between those welcoming thighs.  Then his common sense 
kicked back in; Shannon might be in the perfect position for his 
joining her, but that was clearly not her intention.  With that 
picture still dominating his thoughts, he tickled her other leg 
on the way to her panties.  Once there, he stroked his fingers 
over the smooth, damp cloth.  He tried to read the configuration 
of her mystery through the constraining panties.  Needing to 
straighten up on his knees to adjust his erection, he took that 
opportunity to kiss Shannon's mouth once more and to switch 
breasts after that.  While he moved, he rested his hand on 
Shannon's mound and clasped her groin with his fingers. 

Shannon felt that clasp with a rush of excitement.  Steve's 
strokes in the new position were firmer and more exciting.  "Yes, 
Steve," she said as he pressed more firmly against her labia.  
"Oh, yes," she said as he rubbed her more rapidly.  She pulled 
his hand tighter against her and moaned "Yesss!" as the climax 
finally took her.  This time he kept stroking until she was done.  
When she pushed his hand away, he kissed her immediately. 

"I love you Shannon," he said.  "You are wonderful."  Then he 
kissed her again. 

Steve really meant that Shannon was wonderful, and he thought that 
she had been especially wonderful for the previous few minutes.  
She had always seemed sexy and desirable to him.  It had also 
been clear for many months that she thought him a nice boy.  But 
only recently had he seen her respond as a desirous woman, behave 
as though she thought that *he* was sexy.  This increased his 
arousal a thousandfold.  He felt he should hug and kiss her 
forever in gratitude for this gift; on the other hand, he really 
felt the need to escape her presence so that he could do 
something about that arousal.  He kissed her forehead and 
whispered, "I'll be back." 

Shannon listened to his footsteps head toward the downstairs 
bathroom.  She sat up, refastened her bra and buttoned her 
blouse.  Steve had only undone the bottom buttons; the top two 
were still in place.  She stood to tuck everything back in place.  
She needed the mirror in the bathroom to check herself out, 
though.  She smiled at the idea of breaking in on Steve.  

Then she thought, 'Why not?  He's seen me.  What he's doing is no 
secret.'  She took a deep breath to gather up her courage and 
walked to the door.  No inside door in the Green home had a lock 
that the kids could use.  She turned the handle quietly.  

Steve had his cock out and cooling a bit while he sniffed the 
Shannon-odor once more.  He wondered what Shannon would think if 
he used a handkerchief to rub her down there.  He could keep it 
in a test tube with a stopper and only open it at night in his 
bed.  On the other hand, there were already too many layers of 
cloth between his hand and her mystery this way.  

Shannon saw Steve standing in front of the toilet with his penis 
pointing up; he had his hand against his mouth as if he were 
stifling a yawn.  A little after she entered, he glanced towards 
her in shock, and turned towards her.  "Shannon," he squeaked. 

"You would have preferred Mrs. Green?"  

Conscious of his erection in plain sight, Steve turned his back.  
Shannon could see Steve's blush creep across his neck.  Maybe it 
was anger instead of embarrassment, but she wasn't going to stop 
now.  She glided behind him so close that he could feel her firm 
breasts press into his back.  Her hands slid around his waist and 
toward his groin.  Somewhere in his forebrain he was scandalized 
and horribly embarrassed.  None of this was communicated below 
his waist.  There, her hands were touching him, holding him.  
When she touched it, it jerked in her fingers.  The skin moved 
with her fingers, although she tried to stroke it gently.  
Beneath that loose surface, however, she felt something much 
firmer and hotter.  "Tell me what I should do," she said.  He 
didn't answer, but that soon was irrelevant as it jumped in her 
hands and shot out pulse after pulse.  The first ones hit the 
raised toilet seat; only the last pulses went inside the bowl.  
His hips moved back and forth within the circle of her arms, and 
he was sort of grunting.  Then her right hand had some of the goo 
on it.  

All Steve could think was that doing it himself had never felt 
like this.   

She washed while he stood there.  All in all, she thought, it had 
been interesting -- even a little arousing, but not in the least 
romantic.    

Steve used the facilities when she had left.  Then he cleaned up 
his mess and washed himself.  He blushed scarlet when he had to 
leave the bathroom at last.  

Shannon had decided to put that experience on the back burner 
until she could think about it in private.  She was deep into 
her math book by the time he came out.  She wanted to get all the 
studying out of the way before the New Year's rush.

Steve had taken advanced algebra and trig the previous year.  
Still, he stammered when she asked him a question about it.

"I'm serious," she said.  "What's this business with amplitude?"

"Simple enough.  You're just asking the wrong question first.  
Where is the middle line of that function?"

"Here?"  She sort of sketched a line across the book with her 
finger.

"Good enough.  Y equals negative three.  Now how high can the 
function get?"

"Positive one."

"And its minimum?"

"Negative seven."

"Okay," he said.  "The difference between positive one and 
negative three is four.  The difference between negative three 
and negative seven is four.  The amplitude is?"

"Four...  Or eight?"

"Shoulda stopped while you were ahead.  The standard sine wave 
looks like this."  He sketched it out.  "Max value, positive one; 
minimum value, minus one; amplitude one."

"I know that."  Steve was good at math, but that was no reason 
for him to patronize her.  

"Right.  This is math; we start with what you know.  Wait till 
the teacher gets to the part that you don't know and you'll get 
lost every time."  He'd been saying that since the beginning of 
the school year.  It seemed to him that she ignored him every 
time, and that she got lost nearly every time.

"Anyway," he continued, "the distance from the center line to the 
maximum is the amplitude of this function.  So that is the 
amplitude of any function.  Or the distance from the center line 
to the minimum, they had better be the same."

She went back to her book, and he opened his English book.  He 
kept hoping that reading Shakespeare one more time would make 
"Romeo and Juliet" clear.  Half an hour later, they kissed good 
night.  It was a warm kiss, with lots of tongue; but neither of 
them brought the passion to it that they had experienced earlier.

                              - = - 

Shannon took a job babysitting on New Year's Eve, while Steve and 
Mallory were designated drivers at their parents' party that 
night.  Steve drove the guests home in their cars, and Mallory 
followed after in the Civic.  Steve would climb into what he 
considered Shannon's seat and ride back.  They participated in 
the party until they were needed, but not in the main activity. 
 
"You each can drink as much as you want Monday, though," their 
father promised.  At one point, Steve doubted that the guests 
would leave anything undrunk in the county, let alone their 
house.  As he couldn't go into Hauksbee's with liquor on his 
breath, he'd have to do his drinking on Monday night.  

Steve did grab an unopened bag of caramels from the candy stash.  
He hid it in his coat pocket and ate them in his old style.  The 
light-colored ones, which he liked well enough, he ate first.

"Give me a couple," Mallory said.

"Get your own.  We'll be back at the house in a few minutes."  
But he dug into the bag to find a few.  He passed her the two 
light-colored ones, dropped two of the three dark ones back into 
the bag, and started to peel the third for himself.

"Come on.  Give me one of the dark ones.  You have lots."  

"Get your own.  I have lots of dark ones because I eat the light 
ones first."

"You're a puritan.  My little brother is a puritan even about 
eating candy."

Entering the house through the kitchen, as the family always did, 
they surprised a couple petting more heavily in a half-lit corner 
than Shannon would in a dark closed car.  The man and his wife -- 
not the woman in the kitchen -- were his next passengers.  
"Seeing the big world, little brother," Mallory said as he got 
back in their car.  She liked to pretend to be a woman of the 
world dealing with an innocent hayseed.

"I'm not surprised it happens," he said.  "I just expect that, 
when *I* am married, I'll stick to my own woman, and my own house 
for that matter."

"And meanwhile, you stick to your own hand.  Don't try to 
bullshit your big sister.  You'd take it if it were offered.  
It's just that nobody would want you."

On a later return, he really was shocked.  His father was pressed 
against a woman bending over one of the kitchen counters.  "Dad!" 
he gasped.  Then they moved apart, and he saw that the woman was 
his mother.  All Dad had been doing was scratching her back.  He 
did that lots, although they probably wouldn't have dodged out of 
their own party for it if either one had been sober.

"I hope," he told Mallory in the car later, "that Dad forgets 
that incident.  It must have been clear what I thought he was 
doing."

"He had his groin pressed up against Mom's butt.  What could you 
possibly have thought he was doing?"

"Well, I didn't know it was Mom at first.  And what he was really 
doing was scratching her back."

"Someday, little brother, you should take lessons from Dad in 
backscratching.  Mom started offering to do my back, instead of 
him, soon after they decided that I couldn't sit on his lap.  And 
she definitely doesn't know how."

                              - = - 

Steve took Shannon out for a drive on the second.  They necked as 
well as talked, but they had become nervous about the lack of 
privacy in the car, especially with the better places full of 
snow.  Besides, it was cold in the car, and he had a hangover.  

Steve hadn't heard from IIT yet, but he had received acceptances 
from both Albion and U of I the week after Christmas.

"This news is supposed to make me jump for joy," he said.

"Yeah.  Me too."  They'd gotten the letters within days of each 
other.

"The admissions offices aren't going to make our decision for us.  
Financial aid just might," she said after a minute of two.

"I don't know.  They all say that they give aid to all students 
who really need it.  And I don't think that either of us is going 
to get a great scholarship based on our academic record."

"I'm scared of telling my mother that I'm choosing a school to be 
with you."

"I'm more scared," he said.  "It's unlikely to cost your parents 
any more, probably less."

But Shannon was thinking it less and less likely that the college 
for both of them would be Albion.  The question was whether there 
would be a college for both of them.  And Steve might still be 
accepted into IIT.  She couldn't go there, but she could find 
another college in Chicago.  She didn't want to, though; 
Champaign-Urbana was quite large enough a town, thank you.  If 
Steve wouldn't give up her plans for her, why should she give up 
her plans for him?  The thing was that Steve hadn't asked her to.  
And he hadn't really said that he wouldn't give up his plans, 
either.  She wanted to be with him.  And his plans, after all, 
were lifetime plans.

Could they keep a long-distance romance going for four years? 
That was four times as long as they had been dating.

                              - = - 

Her parents scheduled an attic cleanup for Saturday morning.  As 
Steve was working then, she made no objection.  But they didn't 
start until after ten, took a long lunch which was devoted to 
"remember when," and finished grungy at nearly five.  

Steve called, but he wasn't really free then either; and Mallory 
wanted the phone after only fifteen minutes.  "E-mail," he said.  
She did, but she never felt the same about these.  She logged on 
later to read two, one written while Mallory hogged the phone and 
he couldn't send it, one in answer to hers.  They were nice, but 
she missed Steve's voice.

                              - = - 

The Bryants all got to church the first Sunday of the new year.  

The financial secretary had the records of giving piled on a 
table when they got out of service.  Shannon opened hers in the 
back seat of the car.  She was three weeks behind at the end of 
the year.  "Mom," she asked "is there enough to pay the back 
offering next week?  It's fifteen bucks."

"Sure," her mother said.  "But give me your babysitting money 
when we get home.  I'll finish last year and start this. Nobody 
wants to show houses with the Christmas lights still on them and 
the ice dripping down."

"Shannon!" she called half an hour after they got back. "Where's 
the money from the Savages?"

"They paid in cash," Shannon called from her room.  "I spent it 
at the after-Christmas sales.  I only used your card for the big 
stuff."

"Then tell me the amount.  I need to know cash amounts for 
keeping these books, and I'm starting the books for the new 
year."

"Why," Shannon asked in a perfectly reasonable voice, "does the 
new year change the rules?  I kept the cash just as I did last 
year."

"Shannon!!" her mother screamed.

"Let's," her father shouted from downstairs, "get all this in one 
room and keep it to a dull roar."

But he sided with her mother when the matter was laid out.  "I 
work for the hospital; it's the county's money.  But every penny 
which comes in, and every penny which goes out, has to be 
reported to my office.  It may be your money, but it is your 
mother's *books*.  And you should be damn grateful that she keeps 
them for you.  Maybe she shouldn't."

Luckily, Shannon kept records of appointments, expected starting 
and ending times, and -- since she wanted the warning before she 
went there again -- any late return or underpayment.  She went 
over them with her mother in excruciating detail.  For some 
reason, this required another column in the accounting record.

"And he paid me fifteen dollars, and that was the first time," 
she finally said.  They had been working backwards.

"Did you finish up this year's books?" Shannon asked at supper.  
She'd cooked it to pay back her mother for the extra effort on 
the books.

"No thanks to you.  Honestly Shannon!"

"So how much was my balance brought forward to the new year?"

"Well, you bought things at the sales.  And you'll really owe 
taxes this year.  The theater withheld, but nobody else did.  
Mrs. Green could get in trouble for that."

Shannon hoped that she wasn't as transparent when *she* was 
evading the subject as her mother was.  "How much was my balance 
brought forward?"  Her parents exchanged looks.

"Two thousand four hundred thirty-eight dollars and fifty-four 
cents." 

"Two thousand dollars!!" she screamed.

"Remember the four hundred thirty-eight dollars and fifty-four 
cents."

"Two thousand dollars! And you didn't want to tell me!  What I 
could have done with that."

"You could have wasted it," her father said.  "What did you want 
that you didn't buy?"

"I could have got Steve something really nice for Christmas and 
his birthday."

"We went over that," her mother said.  "The limit was what Steven 
would feel obliged to spend on you.  He was embarrassed that your 
wrapping of his Christmas gift was better than the job that the 
store did on yours."

"There is another point that you need to consider," Dad said.  
Shannon felt that they were double-teaming her; but there was 
none of that nonsense about good cop - bad cop.  "We'll pay your 
way to college.  We've said so.  We'll pay tuition, books, room 
and board.  It's only fair that you pay for your clothes and 
entertainment.  Certainly, if we have to pay for them, you will 
be on a much tighter allowance than you spent this year."

"You've been talking about this.  It's my money, but you've been 
talking about it behind my back!"

"We didn't talk about it."  Dad was using his explain-the-obvious-
to-the-retards voice.  "Didn't need to.  Back in the summer, you 
were getting $162 a week from Mrs. Green.  How much from the 
theater?"

"Almost ninety."

"Not take home," her mom said.

"Nobody," Dad said, "not even Imelda Marcos, could spend two 
hundred and fifty dollars a week on clothes.  Not in this town."  

"And," Mom added, "you were with Steven almost every moment that 
the stores were open."  Which was a gross exaggeration; so was 
Dad's.  

"So," Dad finished up, "I knew that you were accumulating money 
without watching the amounts.  Your mother knew that you would 
accumulate more through the summer before it even happened.  Why 
did either of us have a duty to point that out to you?  It wasn't 
as if you missed one, single, opportunity to spend money.  I 
didn't actually talk to your mother.  But I sympathize with her."

"You know, Shannon," Mom said, "you haven't the faintest idea 
what the style details will be at college.  Every time you buy 
something now which may be appropriate for the next few months, 
you decide that you won't buy something next year -- maybe 
something which you will actually need."

                              - = - 

Having two personal problem to stew over and more than the usual 
amount of homework Wednesday night, Shannon found when she reached 
the Pollocks that Kyle -- normally a low-maintenance fifth grader 
-- hadn't been turning in his homework.  Instead of burying 
himself in his room, he had to sit across the kitchen table from 
her and show her his homework as he completed each assignment.  
Kyle's reaction could have been have predicted; he found ten 
times as many things to distract him, and her, than any adult 
could possibly have found.  Half his homework was still undone 
when his bedtime arrived.

She was rather frazzled when Steve appeared.  More than that, 
this Kyle was a different boy; she no longer trusted him to sleep 
through the night.  The house was a "ranch," and the door to 
Kyle's room was not six feet from the living room.  When their 
books were spread out, she led Steve into the kitchen before 
giving him a welcoming kiss.

"What is this?" he asked.

"As much privacy as we are going to get.  I'm nervous."  

"Where is a glass?"

"Here."  She got him one.  He ran the water, filled the glass, 
poured half out.  

"Now," he said, "we have a reason to be in here."  He had a wad 
of tissues in his coat pocket just in case she would repeat her 
delightful strokes.  That possibility was looking dimmer.

"You have a devious mind.  I like that in a guy."

When they kissed again, she began to relax in his arms.  He felt 
her breasts press into his chest.  He left her mouth to sprinkle 
kisses over her face, but the differences in height made that 
uncomfortable.  He stopped on her forehead while pulling her 
sweatshirt out of her skirt.  He raised it enough to reach her 
bra clasp.

He liked the next kiss better, with her breasts a little softer 
and an inch lower on his chest.  Even through her sweatshirt and 
his clothes, he could feel the hardness of her nipples.

Shannon never mentioned the annoyance of a bunched-up bra.  The 
alternative was obvious, and she didn't want to remove her bra 
here.  The kiss was great, though, and there was always something 
sexy about having her breasts swinging free.  

Steve hunched down, hugged Shannon to him, straightened up, and 
set her on the edge of the countertop.  After a little 
adjustment, he was standing between her legs, and her face was 
above his.  They kissed again, his tongue playing in her mouth.  
He ran his hands under her shirt, up her back, and then around to 
cup her breasts.  All that smoothness was against his palms; his 
thumbs played with her nipples.  

Somehow, the different angle made the kiss different for Shannon.  
She had her arms about Steve and her face above his; his hands 
were busy at her breasts but not holding her to him.  She was 
kissing him rather than his kissing her.  At that thought, she 
broke the main kiss to kiss his nose and forehead as he sometimes 
did for her.  When she returned to his mouth, she invaded it with 
her tongue.  She felt daring, as well as turned on.

Steve's mind was concentrating on keeping his hands gentle on 
Shannon's breasts.  It couldn't handle her tongue in his mouth.  
His body, with no such limits, arched forward rubbing his 
hardness along her belly.  Luckily, their clothing interfered.

Shannon had felt his erection pressing against her many times at 
dances, but usually closer to her rib cage than to her groin.  
Indeed, those experiences usually marked the less erotic parts of 
their evenings; and she'd always thought of the male reaction as 
slightly humorous.  

This time there was nothing funny about it.  This time Steve was 
pressed against her mound, an inch from their having real sex; 
and it turned her almost all the way on.  When she curled her 
legs around him and hugged him to her body with all four limbs, 
the action was only partly motivated by her realization that they 
couldn't go further while pressed together.  Mostly it was 
instinctive acceptance of her mate.

Somehow Steve realized through his fog of lust that Shannon's 
lovely breasts were being crushed by this position.  He dropped 
his hands from them and hugged her.  His left hand pulled her 
hips towards him while his right petted compulsively up and down 
her back.  

They had to breathe, and eased back.  When Steve put his hand on 
Shannon's knee, she loosened her legs.  His stroke up the inside 
of her thigh tightened them again.  "I'm not trying to stop you," 
she said.

"That's okay."  He reached between them to caress her mound.  
They kissed again, but his fingers couldn't quite reach where he 
wanted them.  Which was where she wanted them, too.  

"Did you mean what you said about knowing that there were things 
that you can't have?" she asked.

"I guess so.  What did I say?"

"I'm going to wear white on my wedding day.  Do you know what 
that means?"

"You mean that you are going to be a virgin then."

"Will you respect that limit?"

"Of course, Shannon.  What do you think that I am?"

She thought that he was a male, a teenage male at that.  But she 
didn't have quite the words to express that.  "Bring that chair 
over here so that it faces that way.  Then sit on it."

He wondered what he had done, but he obeyed her direction.  She 
hopped down and walked over to him.  She sat on his lap 
straddling him, careful that she wasn't sitting on any part of 
her skirt.  "Are you comfortable this way?"

He shifted until her weight was balanced.  "I'm okay."  More than 
okay, the discomfort of her weight hardly compared to his delight 
in her accessibility.  

"Don't lift my top.  I don't want Kyle coming out and seeing me."  
That sounded more limiting than she had intended.  She took his 
hand and put it under the sweatshirt.

Steve couldn't kiss her breasts like this, but it was Shannon's 
call.  Besides, she knew the kids; he had to trust her judgment 
on that.  Her breasts were delightful, but he began stroking her 
thigh after a minute.  She made no move to stop him.

Shannon was actually enjoying this less than she had the kiss on 
the countertop.  She'd jumped down, after all, so that he could 
touch her between her legs.  Finally he did, stroking so softly 
that it tickled.  Even the tickle was arousing, and his tongue 
was delightful in her mouth.  

Steve was trying to figure out Shannon's shape through the 
layers of cloth.  He'd seen diagrams in sex-ed books and pictures 
in the raunchier magazines; but all he'd seen of Shannon was the 
mound, and that only once.  His curiosity didn't mean that he 
wasn't enjoying the feel, of course.  He was also enjoying her 
response.  She was breathing into his mouth, and he could gauge 
every increase in her excitement by the raggedness of her breath.  
Her hand was on the back of his neck, controlling the firmness of 
the kiss.  As she would press her mouth more firmly into his, he 
would press more firmly with his fingers.

Shannon didn't want to break this off, but her breast was 
starting to feel sore.  She grabbed Steve's arm through her 
shirt and switched it to her left breast.  "More gently," she 
said.

He felt guilty.  He *knew* that he should move from one of her 
breasts to the other.  He touched her much more gently, above and 
below.  Shannon broke the kiss and touched the arm that he had 
thrust between her legs.  "Less gently," she said.  Then she had 
to wait for Steve to stop laughing.

Soon, however, he was again brushing her nipple very gently.  
Soon he was stroking her lips quite firmly through her panties.  
Soon she, kissing him, feeling all of these sensations, started 
on her journey.

Steve could feel more dampness through the cloth.  That must have 
made his detection of her shape easier, because her lips felt as 
if they had become larger.  The confinement of his jeans was 
becoming a torture, but he could bear that torture for the 
rewards his hands and mouth were receiving.  Shannon pressed 
harder against his mouth and breathed more rapidly.

She was soaring.  He was taking her as high as she had ever taken 
herself.  Then she shattered with a gasp.  Unable to support her 
own weight, she slumped in his arms.  

Steve felt her gasp into him.  Then he had to abandon his 
stroking to keep her from falling.  She gasped an inch from his 
ear for what seemed like a really long time.  Maybe it was merely 
that his foot had fallen asleep.  Anyway, he figured that an 
armful of Shannon was worth a little discomfort.

Finally, she gathered herself together and stood up.  She was not 
quite steady on her feet, but better than Steve.  He didn't even 
attempt to rise for another few minutes.  He was on his feet, and 
considering whether to mention the Kleenex he had brought for his 
own relief, when the garage door opened.  It made an unholy 
racket, startling them into action.  Shannon fixed her bra 
immediately; Steve headed for the other room.  His coat would 
hide his erection.

Mr. Pollock didn't seem to be in a very good mood when he came 
in, especially considering how much liquor he had obviously 
consumed.  He paid Shannon, though, and accepted Steve's offer to 
drive her home.  Steve would have worried with Mr. Pollock at the 
wheel.  Steve thought about the Kleenex again on the short drive, 
but there wasn't really anywhere to park.  Shannon stopped him a 
block from her house to give him a big kiss.  He dropped her off 
at her door, drove home, marked the mileage and gas level, and 
went upstairs.

In his room, he savored his memory and the odor still on his 
fingers.  He felt too sleepy, though, to linger on his road to 
completion.  He still had the sticky Kleenex in bed with him when 
he awoke the next morning.


Continued in Chap. 5
Uther Pendragon
Heart Ball
2001/01/18


-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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