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Message-ID: <30639asstr$991757403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: anon584c@nyx.net (Uther Pendragon)
Reply-To: anon584c@nyx.net
Subject: {ASSM} <Dulcinea> {Robert Brennan} Rev "Windmill Saga" ( MF cons )
Date: Tue,  5 Jun 2001 12:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


I have Dr. Brennan's authority to submit this story by 
him to your Dulcinea Memorial Writing Festival.  
Reposted stories, and hence revised ones, are 
specifically permitted in the rules.

    This material is Copyright by the author.  All 
rights reserved.  I specifically grant the right of 
downloading and electronic copying of ONE copy for 
personal use.  




                      #    #    #    #    #

                          WINDMILL SAGA


She woke in an empty bed.  This had been happening too 
often lately.  At four a.m., she found him sitting in 
front of a screen saver with his head against the back 
of the chair, snoring away.

He jumped when she kissed him.  The taste of his mouth 
almost made her jump, as well. "What are you doing?" he 
asked.

"Kissing my love.  Kissing him at four a.m. Mountain 
Daylight Time.  Better known as time for bed.  If you 
are going to sleep, why do it alone?"

"I'm running the grammar checker over the entire 
document.  That always takes a while.  Then I have to 
deal with the results, put in the headers, and send it 
off.  *Then* I'll sleep."

"Yeah, like a log.  You won't be any fun then either."

"You only love me for my body."

"Not for your mouth, that's for sure.  Why don't you 
brush your teeth while the computer works?  Gargle with 
mouthwash while you're at it."

When he came out of the bathroom, she tasted the 
results.  "Um.  Much nicer mouth, do you think you 
could fake some feeling?"  She pulled him against her, 
feeling his hard-on against her mound, his hard chest 
against her breasts.  After a moment, he returned the 
kiss.  His hands squeezed her asscheeks.  Then he 
stepped back.

"I don't have to fake anything.  You know I love you, 
it's just that the report is due tomorr...  Today, by 
now.  Didn't you feel my love in that hug?"

She smiled and touched his semi-erection.  "I felt 
this.  Is that called your love?"  She knew she had him 
then.  As he hardened in her hand, his protests 
softened in her ears.

She could tell that he *had* missed her.  The computer 
competed for his attention, not his desire.  

She tossed off her night gown before helping him with 
his clothes.  His hugs were now enthusiastic, and they 
rolled around on the bed like newlyweds before he 
pinned her.  Kissing her breasts, he explored her folds 
with his fingers.  She clasped his arm with her legs 
while he spread her moisture around.

"So wet!" he said.  She responded in kind, kissing the 
shoulder which was all she could reach while he was at 
her breast.  The fingers of one hand trailed lightly 
over his ass; the fingers of the other grasped his 
cock.  As she had intended, that ended foreplay.  She 
spread her legs as he rolled on top of her.

"What did you think I had been thinking about?" she 
asked as he hurriedly positioned himself.  Then neither 
had time for coherent speech.  She could feel the 
tension in his muscles as he fought for restraint while 
pressing slowly into her.  When she rocked her pussy 
upward, the restraint disappeared.  His ardor matched 
hers;  her rhythm matched his.  Arching with her 
climax, she pulled him tight into her.  Then he came 
with shaking and grunts.

A moment later he lay gasping on top of her.

His breath evened and then turned to snores.  "Sleep 
well, my love," she whispered as she slipped from under 
him.  The project would flow smoother when he was 
rested.  Cuddled against him, she found the rest which 
had eluded her in the empty bed.


Having prepared the batter long before, she heated the 
pan when she heard him stirring.  "Pancake breakfast in 
ten minutes," she told him from the bedroom door.  
"Rested and fed, you can whip that report out by one."

"One!  What time is it?"

"Eleven thirteen." 

"The report was needed at a board meeting at nine-
thirty *Eastern* Time.  They'll fire me.  They'll have 
to."  He looked devastated.

She went back to turn off the stove.  He wouldn't want 
pancakes;  pancakes were for celebrations.

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