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Message-ID: <45349asstr$1068858602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: anon584c@nyx.net (Uther Pendragon)
Reply-To: anon584c@nyx.net
Subject: {ASSM} rp "Foretaste 2" {Uther} (MF wl) [2/4]
Date: Fri, 14 Nov 2003 20:10:02 -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, 1997 & 2001, Uther Pendragon.  All 
rights reserved.  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. 

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. 


                            #  # #  #

                            Foretaste
                         Uther Pendragon
                        anon584c@nyx.net


Part 2:
Continued from Part 1


The next day on my way home from campus, though, I did worry  
about it.  (In a full-length rain coat, I needn't fear thinking  
about Jeanette's sexiness in public.)  Sure, she had priorities  
which came before me even now.  If I tried to hold those firm  
breasts or those sexy buttocks while she was cooking, she would  
chase me away.  It was sweet agony to watch her dress on holidays  
for the university which her company didn't take.  Sure, a full- 
time student would behave worse.  I remembered writing papers  
while she fell asleep alone; I knew I would get that back with  
interest when she was the student. 

But motherhood, much less pregnancy, was full-time in the  way 
that neither of these was.  Lamb chops took a few minutes to  
grill, even a cake was baked in a few hours.  A bun spent nine  
months in the oven.  And it would occupy the parts of her that I  
loved most.  For that matter, Jeanette was already committed to  
breast-feeding.  Since that would give my son the healthiest  
start in life, I wasn't about to argue. 

On the other hand, that would give our son priority in what  had 
been *my* playground for the last decade. 

On still yet another hand, the wife of a colleague was quite  
visibly pregnant.  I love my wife, don't get me wrong; and I'm  
certainly not about to break the seventh commandment.  But Sarah  
Thorsen was so sleekly sexy with her swelling belly, that I'd  
already broken the tenth. 

Whatever hand I'd gotten to by the time I came in sight of  my 
outer door, all that was irrelevant.  The decision was about  
what was good for Jeanette.  That lively mind was entitled to all  
the pleasures that I had enjoyed first.  Would she really prefer  
the pleasures of parenthood to that? 

That evening, however, she didn't raise the issue.  Neither  did 
she Tuesday or Wednesday. 

Thursday morning, I was mentally preparing myself for the  first 
class while the two of us were eating breakfast.  She isn't  a 
morning person, and our breakfast conversations tend to be  short 
and practical.  "I'm going to be a total mess tomorrow  night."  
She said out of the blue. 

"That's too bad."  Jeanette doesn't usually complain about  her 
periods.  But if she wanted sympathy, she would get it. 

"Could I have games tonight?"  This surprised me. 

Once upon a time, I had instituted the idea of 'games' to  
diversify our sexual encounters.  On alternate Friday nights, I  
would get to pick something adventurous; on the other Fridays,  
Jeanette would get to pick what she wanted, seldom what I would  
call 'adventurous.'  As we experienced some of that diversity,  
the category of 'normal' sex grew.  Both from that, and from the  
failure of some of my proposals, the category of 'adventurous'  
sex shrank.  My games became less frequent, hers almost  
disappeared.  Still, unless something else intervened, we went to  
bed earlier on Friday nights and went to sleep later. 

But!  She could have control *any* time she asked, and she knew 
that.  And we didn't get adventurous during her period,  anyway 
-- barring her occasional oral ministrations.  Besides,  Tuesday 
and Thursday were our nights for evening classes. 

Anyway, I heeded that warning.  I spent my office time  making 
sure that I was ready for the Friday lectures.  I came  straight 
home from my evening class, but Jeanette -- who had the  car -- 
beat me home and to the bathroom.  I made my preparations  in 
there, including another shave.  She was in bed and naked when  I 
got there.  I greeted her with a deep kiss. 

When she broke the kiss, she said, "I thought that this was  my 
game." 

"Anything you want." 

"Remember that 'T' thing you liked." 

I remembered it well.  She would lie down on her back; I  would 
lie down on my side across the bed; I would fit into her  that 
way.  I also remembered that she hadn't liked it.  I could  pet 
her like that, but only our groins touched naturally.  She  
preferred much more body contact. 

I reached down to caress her groove. "Do you want me like that?" 

"Please!" 

I fitted myself to her and pressed inward.  She was a little  
drier than I liked, but she -- as she had asked -- was in charge.   
She passed me the KY; with that lubrication, I was soon within  
her.  The rest of my groin was pressed into her seat. 

"You asked for this," I reminded her.  It is a better  position 
when I'm doing a lot more petting. 

"Bob, are you really ashamed of me?" she asked. 

"Ashamed of you?  No!  I think that we have better  positions, 
but you put up with my experiments." 

"Ashamed of my education -- my lack of education.  Your  friends 
have doctorates, or almost.  Your family...."  My sister  is in 
her second year of medical school after taking all the  
psychology she could as a chem major; my father has an MBA after  
getting a *good* bachelor's in economics; my mother took courses 
after getting an MAT in art history. 

"Does my family snub you?"  I knew the answer to that. 

"They are all very sweet."  To her.  My sister has said that  she 
can't understand what Jeanette sees in me, and Dad isn't  above 
asking whether I'm treating her well enough.  But they  never 
snub *her*. 

"Does the department?"  There I'm totally without leverage.   
Instructors don't get their way on anything. 

"Not really." 

Having softened a little, I moved out and in twice.  If I  had 
continued much longer, I wouldn't have been able to stop.   "Do 
you want my hands on you?"  There is very little else I could  do 
in that position. 

"I want to have this conversation."  As far as I was  concerned, 
we'd had this conversation.  But I shut up; it was  Jeanette's 
night.  "If you're not ashamed of me, why is it so  important to 
have me back in school?" 

"Jeanette, think for a moment!  When you go back to school,  the 
faculty *will* snub you.  Not exactly snub, but you'll be an 
undergraduate.  Right now, you're the wife of an instructor.  
You're the equal of other instructors, since their spouses are 
their equals -- maybe a little junior to assistant professors and 
such, but so am I. 

"Anyway, their only way to relate to you will be as an  
undergraduate.  I'm not trying to raise my status by raising  
yours." 

"Then why," she asked, "is it important?" 

"Two reasons.... 

"You gave up a college education in order to marry me.  I  want 
it to be a delay, and not an abandonment.  Second, you have  the 
active sort of mind that enjoys engagement with ideas.  I  don't 
want to stifle that.  That's why it's important, not some  fear 
that people are going to look down on you." 

"Bob!"  I shut up, but she didn't continue for a minute. 

"Bob, I did give up a college education in order to marry  you.  
We are a family, and I've never regretted it."  She  squeezed me 
then, and moved against me and around me.  I had to  hold back 
from moving in response.  "Well, almost never," she  amended. 

"I didn't give up any engagement with ideas.  First of all,  I 
was never one of your sort of students.  I didn't stay after  
class." 

"You were always bright."  Freshmen don't stay after class,  as a 
rule.  And she had only been a freshman.  We'd cut her  education 
off after that. 

"I talked about ideas with *you*.  Beginning in high school.   
I'm a good student who gets good grades.  I work hard, worked 
fairly hard even that year when you were taking me out all the 
time."   She took a deep breath.  "I sit down all the time to 
earn our living.  I handled that stinky paper I hated that first 
year.  I clean and cook and pick up after you.  I've gotten up at 
an indecent hour every day for years." 

"And it's been worth it," she concluded, "to have a family  with 
you.  I didn't give up classroom discussions.  Married to  you, 
I've had more intellectual discussions than any other time  in my 
life." 

Now, she wasn't being fair to herself.  "The discussions of  
current events were your idea." 

"Most of the stories on historical events were my ideas,  Bob.  
But I just push a button, and you roll them out."  She  pushed my 
belly button to illustrate.  My squirming was turning  me on, 
probably turning her on too. 

"Why," I asked, "are we in this position?" 

"Because I can't argue with you when I'm in your arms."   Then 
she remembered that the alternative for a family meeting was  
sitting down in the living room or at the dining table.   "And I  
think that we should discuss having children in bed." 

Now, to be terribly technical, we hadn't discussed having  
children at all.  But the connection between our son and our bed  
was that he would be conceived there.  At that idea, I hardened. 

Jeanette noticed.  "Oh, Bob, you think with him so often,  why 
are you two so opposed on this issue?" 

Now, I don't think with my phallus.  I hardly ever think  with my 
phallus.  And I wasn't really opposed to having children.   But I 
backed up the conversation a couple of steps. 

"Or you figure that I can't argue with you when I'm in your  
vagina." 

"Bob, you can argue any time," she said.  "That's part of  what I 
love about you, don't you see?  That's part of all those  times 
when you talk to me."  She reached down to tickle between  my 
thighs.  Then her hand cuddled my scrotal sack.  I lurched  
within her, almost coming.  "Come up here and finish this.  We  
can finish this around the kitchen table another time." 

"Unless you have decided already."  That didn't seem very  
likely, really.  If she was about to start her period, then  
leaving out the contraceptive would hardly make a baby likely. 

"I wouldn't do that to you," she said earnestly.  "I want us  to 
be a family, and a family decides these things together." 

So I rolled over, and out of her.  On my way 'up here' I  kissed 
her breasts thoroughly, sucking each nipple in turn.   Despite 
that, despite the earlier artificial lubrication, she  was less 
juicy than she usually was when I reached her entrance.   I 
started to back up, but she reached down to pull the base of my  
phallus inward.  She was wet enough for entry, and the excitement  
from the greater friction started me on my pattern of moving in  
and out. 

She pressed up against me on every in-stroke.  Her hands  moved 
up my arms and then down my torso to my waist.  "I can't,"  I 
said, meaning that I couldn't hold back at all. 

"Bob!" she said as I sped up.  The orgasm was boiling upward  and 
out my phallus.  As I pressed deeply within her, she rolled  her 
hips to meet me and pulled me in by my butt.  I shot into  that 
welcoming heat.  "Yes," she said and squeezed my butt.  And  then 
"yes," again, to welcome each of two more shots and finally  a 
fourth. 

Seconds after the last shot, I collapsed on her.  She moved  her 
hands up and hugged me.  Occasionally, she patted me on my  back.  
When my energy finally came back, she handed me a Kleenex.   I 
cleaned myself off as I came out.  Then I rolled over as she  
cleaned herself and the bed off.  I was far enough over in the  
bed that she missed the wet spot when she cuddled against me. 

I reached down to her mound.  She pulled my hand upwards.   "It's 
still my night," she said. 

"You didn't." 

"*You* did," she replied.  "And quite enthusiastically,  too.  
Don't you see that's the same thing."  I not only couldn't  see, 
I couldn't guess what it was the same as. 

But she continued.  "Bob, you want me to have whatever you  
enjoy.  Now, I can't complain.  That's love." 

"I do love you." 

"Oh you do!  And that's wonderful.  And that's so different  from 
what I was used to.  Don't you see?  I gave up some things;  but 
I didn't give up what you think, and I didn't give them up so  
Bob could have something for himself.  I gave them up so I could  
be married to Bob." 

"You are the sweetest girl." 

"I'm perfectly serious.  I'm Mrs. Robert Brennan.  I wanted  to 
be and I am.  You hug me, and you talk to me, and you come  home 
every night to me.  And I know you always will.  You look at  
those old magazines and those young coeds; but, when you spill  
out all that lust, it's finally in me.  And, as long as you do,  
I'll always have a place in your life and in your heart." 

"That's unfair," I said.  "I've loved you forever and ever." 

"Well, you do love me.  Nobody else does -- ever did.  And,  when 
you want me to have fun in classes like you did, that's your  
love talking.  And I love you for it.  And, when you say, 'Oops,  
Bob had an orgasm; Jeanette didn't,' that's love talking again.   
Do you want to give me an orgasm so that score will be more  
even?" 

Put like that, I didn't.  "Are you saying that you don't  really 
enjoy sex?" 

"Oh no!  Once upon a time, maybe.  But, even then, I  enjoyed 
your orgasm our first time in a tent.  And I enjoyed  yours a few 
minutes ago.  But, what you were really asking, of  course I 
enjoy mine.  Can't you tell?  And that is because of  you.  
Twice!  Because you taught me to enjoy them, because you  taught 
me to have them, because I could trust you enough to have  one in 
your arms.  I couldn't ever imagine losing control that  way, but 
Bob would hold me and pet me and want me to come. 

"I enjoy sex the way you do, if not always.  But I enjoy sex  
many more ways than you do.  I enjoy seeing *your* climaxes, they 
are fun in an entirely different way, and they are profound, too.  
Do you realize how much you trust me?  Do you realize how much 
this means?" 

"I love you," I couldn't think of anything else to say. 

"You do.  I don't think you meant love right then, but Bob  loves 
me.  You don't know how often I told myself that our first  year: 
Bob loves me, and Bob wants me. 

"And," she continued another thought, "I enjoy having you  hug me 
and hugging you.  I enjoy having you inside me." 

"I enjoy hugging you, too," I told her.  "Who insisted on  the 
skin-to-skin in the first place?  If you haven't guessed, I  
enjoy being inside you, too.  We couldn't do it for long  
face-to-face, but we could lie with me inside you like this all  
night." 

She giggled.  "It wasn't a guess, Bob."  She reached back  and 
fitted Junior into the crease between her buttocks.  "Still  my 
game." 

"I didn't think you liked that T shape." 

"I don't.  I mean, I like having you next to me. 

"Look," she continued, "how important is this college stuff  to 
you?  And is it that, or is it not having a baby?" 

"Same question back at you.  You know, you're awfully eager  to 
have a baby growing in you, taking up space inside.  You're  
awfully eager to have a kid screaming in the next room, taking up  
your time and attention.  He'd have to be your priority, you  
know.  Parents act that way." 

"Do you really think I'd neglect you?" she asked. 

"No.  I'm really more afraid of you're neglecting you.  You  do 
for me, you know.  That's what this is about, you neglected  your 
education for me.  Now are you going to neglect your  education 
for my son?" 

"I told you.  I didn't neglect my education for you.  In the  
first place, as I said, I wanted to be Mrs. Bob Brennan.  I made  
sacrifices for that, and I would make them again in a minute...." 

"You would Jeanette?  Has it been good?" 

"I would.  There have been one hell of a lot more pleasant  
surprises than unpleasant.  You know, sex was a sacrifice I was  
prepared to make for you." 

"I'd have never asked you to give up sex."  How could she  think 
I would? 

"No.  I was prepared to give you sex for the hugs I needed." 

"I'm sorry."  I love sex; I won't pretend I don't.  But it's  not 
something which should please only one person. 

"Don't be.  I said 'prepared.'  That wasn't good enough for  you.  
How much you could make me enjoy sex was one surprise.   Anyway, 
I needed the hugs and I still do, if not so often and not  so 
much.  And I enjoy them when I don't really need them.   Anyway, 
I didn't expect to suffer through sex; I'm not a  Victorian.  I 
just knew that you needed the sex like I needed the  hugs.  I 
sure didn't need the sex back then." 

"Back then?" I asked. 

"Yes, you egotist.  You have addicted me.  I need you now.   Are 
you satisfied?" 

Well, I felt better.  "You didn't seem to need me ten  minutes 
ago."  Maybe it was longer. 

"I needed you.  I asked for you.  I just didn't need a  climax.  
Really, I enjoyed one; I told you so.  I just didn't  want a 
Jeanette climax."  Well, I certainly enjoy her orgasms;  but I 
want my own, too.  Maybe it is a man/woman thing.  Maybe it  is 
just a Bob/Jeanette thing. 

"I love you," I said.  That's one certainty among all the  
peculiarities. 

"I know you do," she said.  "You want good for me.  It's  just 
sometimes you want *your* good for me." 

Was that what I had been doing?  I held her close and  thought 
about that. 

The night brought no more revelations, and Jeanette was no  more 
lively than usual at breakfast. 


Continued in Part 3.
Foretaste 
Uther Pendragon 
anon584c@nyx.net
1997/05/08 
1997/10/21 
2000/04/07
2001/11/25
2002/10/21
2003/11/14


This is one of a series of stories about the Brennans.

The next story in the series is:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/brennan/effort.htm
"For Effort"  

The directory to the entire series is:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/brennan.htm
Brennan Stories Directory  


The directory to all my stories can be found at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/index.htm

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