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From: "Gil Gamesh" <gil04gamesh@cox.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 08 Apr 2004 16:16:35 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} The Measure of Man, Chapter 18
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Date: Fri,  9 Apr 2004 00:10:05 -0400
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The Measure of Man is a story of love and sex in the lives of a husband, a
wife, and their three children. The story spans almost four decades in their
lives and tells of their love for each other and for individuals outside the
primary family. The sexual acts described vary greatly but all are within
the realm of those practiced by normal human beings. The Measure of Man is
an epic adventure and will be told in approximately forty chapters.
Twenty-five chapters (1,449 KB) have been completed. Additional chapters
will be published at no specific schedule.

Codes: MF FF mf Mf mF MM Mult fant rom 1st teen cons het group voy safe oral
anal pett lac preg

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gil_Gamesh/www/

Feedback is always welcomed. Use your scissors on my e-mail address to send
comments, criticisms, or requests to:

gil04gameshcutthisout@cox.net



THE MEASURE OF MAN

An Epic by Gil Gamesh

18 - How Shall I Love Thee

 As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and
night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let
your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the
little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in
your embrace; for this too is the measure of man.

<><><>

CAST OF CHARACTERS:
Kieran Stuart, 40 in story
Sioned Stuart, 39 in story, 20 in flashback
Kavan Stuart, 13
Arial Stuart, 11 (and ½)
Kerry Stuart, 7 (almost 8)
Andel Alesandro Tomaro, 21 in flashback

TELLING THE STORY:
Kieran and Sioned Stuart

(KIERAN)

I called Sioned about mid-afternoon on Friday to tell her I was
coming home from work early. She listened patiently while I
complained of being hot and sweaty, angry and depressed, having a
pounding headache, and generally feeling miserable.

"Don't bring any work home for the weekend, Kieran," she advised.
"If you can do that, your family can take care of anything else.
Hurry home."

A few minutes later I was out the door, briefcase and laptop
computer still in my office. Twenty minutes later I drove into
our garage and, surprise, found that there was nothing left in
the way where I parked.

When I walked into the kitchen, the blinds were all closed
against the afternoon heat and light. The overhead fans were
turning quietly and all the lights were soft and low. I could
hear some of my favorite music playing softly in the background,
an orchestral rendition of some of Puccini's opera music. I hung
my coat on a hook behind the door.

Sioned and the kids were all sitting on barstools around the
kitchen counter, drinking what looked like lemonade. I looked at
the empty stool and saw a big glass in front of it with two
pills.

"No beer? I said, wondering why my favorite hot weather drink had
been replaced.

"No, Dad," Arial said, "You've got two extra-strength
acetaminophen for your headache. You can't have alcohol with
headache medication."

"Give us all a kiss, Kieran," Sioned said. "We've got everything
ready in our bedroom to take care of your problems."

That made me raise my eyebrows and I looked at her questioningly.
She only smiled at me.

I hugged Sioned and gave her a brief kiss on the mouth. She
pulled my head against hers and I stood for a moment breathing in
her smell and luxuriating in the feel of her hair against my
face. I hugged Kerry and reached around and patted him on the
butt. "How's your beautiful little butt, Kerry?" His butt was a
standing joke between us. "Just fine, Dad, wanna kiss it?" I was
used to his quick retorts but this was a new one. "Sure." I
grabbed him in my arms, manhandled him until his rear was in
front of my face, and planted a fart-sounding kiss on each cheek.
"Damn, Kerry," Kavan said, "Dad doesn't want your farts in his
face." That started all of them to giggling and I found myself
smiling in spite of the way I felt.  I grabbed Kavan, still on
the bar stool, hugged him, and reached down and gave his penis a
quick pull. "Been exercising it today, Kavan?" I asked. "Just a
couple of times so far, Dad." And last I pulled my beautiful
angel, my princess, Arial into my arms. I could feel her budding
breasts against my chest and her long legs against mine. I stood
still, holding her for a minute, wondering why girls always
smelled so much better than boys.

I sat down, threw the two pills in my mouth, and took a long
drink of the lemonade. It was perfect, just the way I liked, with
its blend of lemon tartness and sugary sweetness. I drained the
glass and looked around at my family.

Sioned and Arial held out their hands to me. Kavan took my coat
off the hook and folded it neatly over his arm. My wife and
daughter led me down the hall to the bedroom. Again the blinds
were drawn, the room was dim, and the bed was freshly made with
clean bed linen.

Sioned stopped me at the foot of the bed and removed my tie and
then started unbuttoning my shirt. Arial loosened my belt and
unzipped my pants. Kavan and Kerry knelt and untied my shoes. I
put a hand on Kavan's head for balance and they pulled off my
shoes and socks. Sioned pulled my shirt off while Arial pulled my
pants down and off, then did the same with my boxer shorts.

"Kavan's going to shine your shoes so they'll be ready Monday,"
Sioned said. "Arial's going to check your suit for spots. As
sweaty as you smell, I think it'll need cleaning. Kerry's going
to hang up your tie and belt and put your dirty clothes in the
laundry. But right now, we've got something else for you. Kerry,
would you get them out of the freezer?"

Kerry ran from the room with his usual run-skip-hop and gave me
one more exhibit of his beautiful little butt. He was back in
seconds with a plastic pan. I looked in it and saw it was full of
washcloths.

Sioned handed one to each of the kids, unfolded hers, and then
covered my face with it. It was a cold washcloth. She started
gently wiping my face and I felt two kids raise my arms and start
wiping my armpits with two more. I felt still another on my back.
I thought that if this wasn't heaven, it was close to it.

When Sioned moved down and started wiping my neck and shoulders,
I stood with my eyes closed, close to tears that my family loved
me enough to welcome me home like this. Evidently they had more
than a single cloth each because I felt some newly fresh and cold
ones on my skin as they moved lower.

I opened my eyes and looked around. Sioned in front. Arial and
Kerry on the sides. Kavan behind. Kavan wiped up between my ass
cheeks with a cold cloth and I shivered involuntarily. "Thanks,
Kavan, haven't had my ass wiped by anybody else in almost forty
years." "You're welcome, Dad. I love you. I don't mind."

Sioned enveloped my cock and balls in another cold cloth and held
me for a few seconds. I shivered again. I looked at Arial and
Kerry and noticed that they were watching what their mother was
doing. "Careful, Mom," Kerry said, "you don't want to masturbate
Dad's headache." I puzzled over that one. "Kerry, I think the
word you wanted to use was exacerbate, not masturbate.
Exasturbate, I mean exacerbate, means to make something worse."
"That's a good word, Dad, but doesn't masturbate make it better."
I couldn't disagree with his logic.

When they finally got down to my feet, I was pushed down in a
chair and my legs put up on a hassock. Sioned got a bottle of
alcohol out of the plastic pan and poured a little on each of the
cloths the kids had. Don't ever think an alcohol bath on hot
tired feet is not a memorable experience.

Sioned pulled me to my feet and led me to the bed. She lay down
first and held out her arms to me. When I crawled on the bed to
her, she moved my pillow downward so that it was near her
breasts. When I put my head down, she pulled me to her, guided
one of her breasts to my mouth, and wrapped her hands around my
head. I wondered if the kids were still watching when I opened my
mouth and started sucking gently on her nipple. I didn't really
care if they were.

I felt someone crawling on the bed behind me and, from the hair
rubbing against me, I knew it was Arial. She spooned up against
my butt and wrapped one arm around me. I felt the buds of her
breasts press against my back and she threw one leg over mine.

"Arial," I mumbled, "do you know that there's one thing that will
turn a man's stomach?"

"No, Dad, what's that?"

"A pair of stiff titties poking him in the back."

"Oh, Dad, I don't have titties yet. Mine are just bee stings. I
wish they were titties."

"Yeah, well it doesn't work anyway if he's got another pair in
front of him. And one of those is in his mouth."

"Mom, sometimes when we have time, will you tell me why men like
our titties - our breasts - the way they do?"

In an inspired flash of humor, I said, "It just proves that a
teat in the mouth is worth two in the back."

"Oh, you men!" Arial giggled and left the room, I knew, to tell
her brothers what I had said.

Kerry came in next and snuggled up against my butt. "Dad, I like
it when you spoon up to me and I can play with Mom's breasts. I
feel like you both love me. Do you feel the same way when you're
in the middle?"

"I do, Kerry, but quit poking me with your dick."

"Dad, I ain't poking you. First it was Arial's tits and now it's
my dick. You got poking on the brain today?"

He remained still about as long as he was capable of, about two
minutes, and then bounded out of the room. I wondered what the
three would plot next. After a few minutes, I heard the microwave
oven signal that time was up. I couldn't imagine.

Kavan came in next and walked around beside the bed, behind me.
"Dad, can I have a turn? It's been a long time since I got to
spoon up against you or Mom.

I grunted in the affirmative, to keep from talking with a mouth
full.

He crawled on the bed and stretched out behind me. "Arial and
Kerry said you've got poking on the brain. Are you going to poke
Mom? If you are, I'll leave and close the door for you."

"No, Kerry, I haven't made any plans to poke your mother.
Tomorrow night I'll see if I can get my weekly poke."

"Bullshit, Dad, I know it's more than that because I see your
door shut and I hear you when you both start coming. You're a
little noisy, sometimes."

"You listen to us, Kavan?" his mother asked.

"Mom, I can't help but hear you sometimes. I like to hear you
because it helps me understand what it's like to love somebody
like you two do. Sometimes it gives me a hard on and I jack off.
But there's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"No, Kavan, there's nothing wrong with you. There's a lot right
about you."

"Even my sense of humor, Dad?"

"I love your sense of humor, Kavan. You got that from me, I
think."

"That's good, Dad, `cause Arial and Kerry wanted me to poke you."

"WHAT THE HELL?" I screamed out as I felt something smooth and
rounded and long and warm and slippery slide between my thighs
just behind my balls. I turned toward Kavan but he was already
off the bed. Whatever it was, it was still there.

"Relax, Dad, it's just a cucumber. I warmed it the microwave and
buttered it and used it to give you a poke. What'ja think it
was?"

Later that evening, the kids served us a dinner of sandwiches and
a mixed-fruit salad and iced tea on the deck. We sat around and
talked until the light was all gone. As we were getting ready for
bed, Sioned said to me, "Describe Kavan." I had to think for a
minute or so until I realized that my heart knew the words. "A
rock to stand on, a chain to hold. Solid. Substantial,
Dependable, Trustworthy. Broad shoulders to carry. The child I
trust with my soul. My man for all seasons." She smiled at me and
nodded agreement.

I went to bed with my wife, sated with love, satisfied without
sex, delirious with happiness, and slept the sleep of a contented
man.

<><><>

(SIONED)

	After his morning coffee, Kieran was in the best of moods all
day on Saturday. Our Friday night cure for his problems had
turned a grouch into a loving husband and father. I even forgave
him for getting into a watermelon seed-spitting contest with the
kids in the backyard.

We curled up in bed together early that night, giving the kids
permission to do whatever they wished until they wanted to go to
bed. I guessed they'd try to stay up until midnight and Kieran
would then have to carry them to their own beds.

Kieran started begging me for a story. Another college-caper, as
he called it. Back in the days when I was burning up the campus
like Sherman did to Atlanta. I'm sure he didn't get such a hot
story when I told him about Ales.

His name was Andel Alesandro Tomaro. His friends called him Ales,
not ales, as in beers, but A-les, two syllables. He was every
young girl's dream of a Prince Charming. He was a mixture of
American and European, born American while his ambassador-father
was serving in the United States, European from his childhood and
education in elite schools in different countries. He spoke a
mixture of British and American English, was fluent in French and
Italian, conversationally adept in Spanish and a few other
languages. And he told me when I first met him that he hoped we'd
be friends.

He was slightly over six-feet tall, slender, beautifully
proportioned, and, as I found out, quite muscular under his
always-elegant clothes. He was handsome, as all Prince Charmings
are. His face was chiseled in its angles but smooth in his high
forehead and cheeks. His eyes were dream-like, always changing in
different lights; his eyelashes long and thick, fitting for the
sensuous looks he bestowed on his admirers. His mouth was a
perfect bow with full red lips, provoking dreams of long
lingering kisses.

I was sophomore in summer school that year, to be a junior that
fall, taking a course in European culture and history. The
professor dropped a bombshell at the beginning of class one
Monday. Ales' father was coordinating an exhibit of religious
cultural artifacts from central European countries. The exhibit
was to be hosted by the museum in the city where I attended
college. Our professor had been asked to find students who could
be hired as exhibit guides. Were we interested? Every hand in the
class went up. Of course, none of us knew then that the
ambassador's son would be involved.

The ambassador, his wife, and son were visiting the city in July
to finalize plans for the exhibit. There was to be a black-tie
dinner and dance in their honor in recognition of their
generosity. Anyone in our class interested in being a guide was
invited but they had to provide their own tuxedo or evening gown
and transportation. We would also be invited to an informal
party, hosted by the ambassador's son the following week. The
ambassador's son would stay with the exhibit until the end of the
year. He would make the final decision on hiring of guides. Any
students in the class could study the preparatory material for
the exhibit for extra class credit. That was certain to garner an
A since the professor was notoriously easy on grading. Any
student not initially chosen might later be called to be an
occasional backup guide or even replacement. In the student union
later, the entire class decided to become experts on European
cultural artifacts.

I threw caution to the winds and sought out the best for the
formal reception dinner. I found a regal but simple long gown, an
antique ivory dream trimmed with old lace. When the woman who ran
the shop heard my description of the occasion, she found an
antique shawl in her own private collection. Its color was so
close to the gown that we could see no difference. The jewel of
the shawl was an image of a rose, worked into the shawl in the
1800's, so perfect that the image was the same on both sides of
the material. The color of the rose was an almost perfect match
for my hair. The shop owner became so engrossed in the project
that she even called her hairdresser and they spent hours
together, planning how to cut my hair and how to complete my
presentation.

My college friends volunteered to be coachmen/women and to
provide an appropriate pumpkin to get me to the ball. One of my
best friends coaxed her boyfriend to act as chauffeur and to
borrow his dad's Mercedes. I was a princess when we drove up at
the entrance to the hotel - a nervous and slightly scared
princess. But I supposed that would be normal even for royalty.

I didn't trip going in. When I gave my name at the ball room, I
was announced to the waiting reception line: the ambassador, his
wife, and Ales. I thought the ambassador would never release my
hand; his gaze lingered too long on the tops of my breasts and
his wife politely coughed. She gave me a welcoming smile, leaned
forward, and suggested that I spend an equal amount of time with
A-les. For a cultured and sophisticated European, I was surprised
when he too had difficulty looking at my face. As had been
suggested to me, I let the shawl slide off my shoulders. Ales
easily beat his father in retrieving it.

The dinner seating was pre-arranged but I noted the looks I
received from Ales at his table, as well as those from most of
the males present. When dancing started, he was the first one to
request a dance with me. While we were dancing, he held me close
enough so that my cheek was against his - and my breasts pressed
against him too. He asked my name again and then my telephone
number. And he said that he hoped I'd understand that he had to
dance with most of the women present, even his mother.

The informal affair was a picnic under the trees on campus. I
decided to display different assets this time so I went in shorts
and sandals, knit shirt, an ivory-colored ribbon in my hair. Ales
led me through the serving line and then ate with me.

"I thought American girls were supposed to be shallow, all "kinda
like" and "you know" with blank minds and bad manners, big butts
and bad hair. No one warned me of someone like you."

"And I thought central European men all wore black leather, had
pierced noses, and spiked hair."

"That's my brother," he joked. "Would you please come to dinner
at my apartment with my parents the night before they leave?"

And that's how it all began.

<><><>

It turned out that Ales was staying for a year and would be
attending classes at the University to help him learn more about
our country. He was unburdened by the need to earn a particular
degree and was free to take any courses he chose - with the
consent of his father and mother.

Between my classes, studying, and working as an exhibit guide, I
was hard pressed for free time. Ales always seemed to occupy that
time. It might be breakfast one day, lunch another, and then
dinner on occasion. I introduced him to beer and barbeque; he
helped me with French cuisine and wine. I tried to explain
football; he tried to explain soccer. I loved every minute of it.
Except that he seemed reluctant to demonstrate any real
affection. I always got an air kiss on each cheek whenever we
met. He held my hand when we walked. He gave me a hug and more
cheek kisses when he took me back to my dorm room.

He seemed to genuinely welcome me to his apartment. My dorm room
was tiny, lived in by two girls, and looked like it. His
apartment was spacious, beautifully decorated in elegant
simplicity, and always clean. I later found out he had a cleaning
lady two mornings every week.

Still he kept his distance. I loved his company, his
sophistication, his knowledge of different cultures and music and
wine. He was surprised that I'd traveled in Europe with my
family. When he learned I'd spent a summer in Greece, he told me
about his summer there. We agreed we both loved the people and
culture but hated ouzo.

That all changed one late fall Saturday afternoon. I went to his
apartment dressed in Jeans and sweatshirt and, surprise, found he
was wearing the jeans and college sweatshirt I had bought for
him. He started to give me his usual perfunctory kiss and
misjudged by a fraction of an inch. When he started for the other
cheek, his nose bumped mine and his lips brushed mine. He never
made it to the other cheek. He stared - gazed deeply, I suppose -
into my eyes then brought his lips back to mine.

When I felt his lips and then just the tip of his tongue, I
opened to him. In seconds, he had one hand on each side of my
face and I was drowning in a sea of red lust. For all his reserve
and culture, he revealed an ardent mastery of kissing.  I think
my nipples were erect and my panties wet before anything else
happened.

I don't remember who undressed whom, whether we did it
individually or for each other or where we did it. I do know I
picked up my clothes in a trail from the front door to the
bedroom. But that was hours later.

At some point he picked me up and then laid me down on the bed.
He walked the few steps to the window and closed the blinds
against the afternoon sun. I loved the way his rear looked on the
way going and the way his cock bounced up and down on the way
back. He stood at the foot of the bed, looking at me, a look of
near worship on his face. When I held up my arms to him, he said,
"Wait, please," and continued looking at me.

I had no way of knowing what sort of lover he would be. He lay
down on the bed, half over me, and started kissing me again.
Kissing was one art form he had perfected. I was beginning to
think I would never tire of it but I wanted more than just
kisses. When he sought out my breast with one hand, I was ready -
eager - for more than kisses. Too shortly, his lips left mine and
his hand moved down between my legs. He was equally adept at
bestowing his kisses, lips and tongue on my nipple and breast.
His finger slowly insinuated itself between my vaginal lips and
very, very gently explored me. I opened my legs wider, hungry for
his touch.

Miscommunication. Either I sent a signal too soon or he
misinterpreted it. He quickly moved over me, between my
outstretched legs, held his cock in one hand and probed with the
head between my vaginal lips. I was already slick with my
lubrication but I wanted to protest that I wasn't ready, that I
wasn't as receptive as I wanted to be. But he was blind,
literally and figuratively, his face buried in my hair, his
consciousness already lost to his hunger. He pushed into me, with
no pain on my part, but with a sense that said his cock wasn't
quite welcome. As with every woman, I wanted him on my terms; he
took me on his.

But credit should be given where credit is due. He was as good at
fucking as he was at kissing. His cock was gloriously filling and
he knew now to use it. Use it, he did. We stayed in the basic
missionary position but he knew every variation of that and, I
think, he even invented a few new ones. If he'd been cutting
wood, I suppose he used his crosscut saw, his keyhole, his
jigsaw, and his rip saw. Finally, I realized I seemed no closer
to coming than I had been thirty minutes or more ago. The only
bad part was that he also seemed no closer either and I was
feeling a little irritation deep inside.

I realized I had to take matters into my own hands so I pulled
his mouth back to mine, began to tongue-fuck him, and sunk my
fingernails into his ass cheeks. Very quickly after that, he gave
one last uncoordinated series of thrusts and collapsed on top of
me. I was sore, unsatisfied, and tired.

We lay side by side, breathing heavily, hardly touching for
minutes. Finally, he stood up, smiled at me, went in the
bathroom, and shut the door. I closed my eyes, very close to
tears, and listened to the water running in the bathroom. A
couple of minutes later, he came out, wiping his hands on a
towel. I looked at his crotch and could easily tell from his wet
pubic hair and clean cock that he had cleaned off any signs of
our coupling.

He stood at the foot of the bed again, his cock still engorged
but limp now, looking down at me. I could feel something drooling
out of my cunt and downward toward my ass cheeks. I could almost
see a frown in his lowered eyebrows. "I think you need to use the
bathroom now, don't you?" I rolled off the bed without a word,
went in the bathroom, and shut the door - loudly. I peed and was
still pissed off. I found a cloth and washed myself and was still
pissed off. I still didn't feel clean and fresh so I got in the
shower. When I got out and dried off, I was still pissed off. I
brushed my hair angrily, determined to leave some red hair in his
hairbrush. I took one or two deep breaths and put my hand on the
doorknob. I tried to leave my pissed-off attitude behind.

When I opened the door, he was asleep on the bed.

I stood watching him, confounded, angry, puzzled, pissed,
dumbfounded and a host of other emotions. I looked for my clothes
and started to round them up but I finally decided that he might
simply be inexperienced or lacking in knowledge to satisfy a new
lover. I decided to be considerate and give him one more chance.
I stretched out on the bed beside him, untouching, untouched, and
went to sleep.

<><><>

When I woke up later, the sun was still shining. The bedroom was
dim but the adjoining room, his living room, was bright with sun
streaming in. I want looking for him and found him wrapped in a
beautiful robe and sitting in the sofa. He had glasses on his
face and he was quietly reading a book.

He put the book down and looked up at me smiling.

"You are so beautiful," he said.

I felt a small decrease in my anger and waited for him to
continue.

"I've been so afraid of you," he said. "I couldn't imagine that a
woman as beautiful as you would want me to love her. That first
night, when I saw you in that gown, with the rose on that shawl,
I felt something grab me inside. I don't know what it is. It's
something I've never felt before."

"I thought you'd have been experienced with all sorts of
beautiful women in Europe. Most women would consider you a very
rare catch."

"There've been a few girls. We played. But you're different;
you're a woman. I don't know what to do."

If it was a line, it was a damn good one. I felt my heart melting
again. Inexperience? Perhaps. Could he learn to be a good lover?
Perhaps. Did I want to teach him? I honestly didn't know. I had
thought he'd be teaching me.

He continued to watch me and I saw his hand slip inside his robe.
I watched the furtive moments, wondering why he was reluctant to
open his robe.

"Open your robe," I whispered.

"No, please, I don't want you to see me. I'm not beautiful like
you are."

I was dumbfounded. "Where'd you ever get that idea? You're every
woman's dream of a handsome prince. Why do you think a woman
wouldn't want to look at you?"

He was silent for a minute or two, evidently thinking. "I've
always felt that way. My earliest nanny used to bathe me and then
scold me when I got an erection. An American girl put her hand on
me when I was about fifteen. I came in her hand and she said,
"Gross," and tried to shake it off her fingers. The only other
girls have wanted to do it in the dark so they didn't have to
look at me."

"Ales, you shouldn't be that way. Could we start over? And please
listen to me, not to other girls or women."

He looked at me, evidently still unsure of what he should do and
whether he should let me lead him.

"Ales, open your robe. Put your hand on your cock and hold it for
me. Show it to me. If you want to love me, you've got to be proud
of your own body. It's beautiful to me."

He did as I asked. I watched, hoping that we could make
everything better.

I looked at him, trying my best to reassure him by my smile that
he was beautiful and that I wanted to see him.

I led him back in the bedroom and, this time, pushed him down on
his back. I crawled on the bed, partially over him and sought his
lips with mine. Again, he was an ardent, skilled, loving kisser;
no woman could have wanted more. I reached down and tried to take
his cock in my hand. He seemed to pull away from me and I gently
insisted that I wanted to touch him, to feel his cock and balls.
When I won he battle, I found that he had lost some of his
stiffness, if not some of his size. I stroked it slowly, feeling
the skin move easily up and down his shaft. He was uncircumcised,
like most European men. His cock seemed to gradually resume its
hard upright stance. I held it quietly, kissing him, and pulled
his hand against my breast.

We lay quietly, kissing, holding, caressing. He seemed slow to
take the initiative so I did. I left his mouth and moved downward
to his cock. He gasped and tried to pull away when I took the
head in my mouth. The next second, his body betrayed his mind and
he tried to shove it down my throat.

"Please, Ales," I said, "try to relax. Let me love you. I want
to, to please me, and then to please you."

"But you're not supposed to do that. Nobody's ever done that with
me before."

"Did you like it, Ales?" He nodded. "I like doing it to you."

I crawled between his legs and held his cock upright with one
hand, supporting my weight with the other. I took the head of his
cock in my mouth and started sucking, looking up into his eyes
and watching his reaction.

 He kept his eyes focused on mine and on my mouth on his cock. I
waited for some sign of pleasure, some indication that he was
enjoying what I was doing to his cock. His face remained almost
impassive. Finally, he began thrusting upward, gently, just
slightly rocking his hips. His hand reached downward toward my
face. I placed my hand in his and he held it as I continued to
suck his cock.

"Please stop," he whispered, "or I'll come. I don't want to come
in your mouth."

I made no sign that I had heard him.

"Please, Sioned, you must stop."

His tone of voice made me stop. I looked up at him again, trying
to understand.

"I don't want to come in your mouth," Ales said. "I want to come
inside you, where it's proper."

I forced a smile onto my face and moved up over him until I was
straddling his hips. I lowered myself onto him so that his cock
was pressed against his stomach. I rocked my pelvis back and
forth, feeling my moisture transferring from my vagina to the
under-shaft of his penis. I rode him, slowly, sensuously. He
watched intently, his red lips rounded into an O.

I knew we were both wet enough. I reached around behind me, held
his cock up right, and found the head of it with my vaginal lips.
I slid down just slightly, up, then down more, up, and then down
until he was enclosed entirely inside me. As he reached my depths
I threw my head back in closed-eyes ecstasy and ground my pelvic
bone against his, my pubic hair against his.

He sat up suddenly, wrapped his arms around me, and twisted
around, throwing me down on the bed. Without ever loosing our
connection, he spread-eagled my thighs and started pounding into
me. I put my arms around his chest, thought "Oh, shit," and
wrapped my legs around his ass. Quicker this time, much too
quick, he rammed into me as hard as he could. I felt his
shuddering contractions and knew he'd come inside me where it was
proper. I hadn't even been close. Seconds later, he rolled off me
onto his back. He put one hand, palm upward over his face, hiding
his eyes.

"Would you like to bathe first this time, Sioned?"

Sioned bathed first. She also picked up her clothes while he was
in the bathroom and was dressed when he came out. She gave him a
couple of quick air kisses on each cheek, drove herself home, and
spent the afternoon crying.

Late that night, I realized he had said nothing to me about birth
control. I knew it was a good thing I was on the pill.

<><><>

(KIERAN)

"Enough, Sioned, please, that's enough for tonight. You don't
need to finish your story."

"I want to finish it, Kieran. I want you to understand why I was
reluctant to get involved with you. You were my second Prince
Charming. Outwardly my first was every Cinderella's dream;
inwardly, inwardly, he was a psychiatrist's nightmare. I wanted
to love him. I wanted him to love me. I should have known that
first afternoon together that it was impossible."

"It's not impossible for me to love you. I wish I could take my
heart in my hand and give it to you. So you'd know how much I
love you."

"Keep your heart inside, Kieran. I already know it's mine. But
could I borrow your cock for tonight?'

I smiled at her and lowered my face to hers. Her hand held me
behind the neck and pulled me against her until I thought I'd
bruise her lips. She opened her mouth to me and teased me with
her tongue. When I teased back, she sucked my tongue into her
mouth with strength and hunger. I wondered if she was remembering
her need to be loved by Ales, a need he never satisfied.

I settled into our same-old, always-new, never-boring routine.
When she relinquished my mouth, I moved down to her breasts. I
tried to remember the old Beatles' song about strawberry fields
forever but the lyrics escaped me. I wanted my mouth between her
legs as much or more than I ever had. But I tried to be slow and
patient, paying attention to all of the temptations on the way
down between her legs.

When I finally arrived there, I found the lips to her vagina wet,
almost dripping. No surprise since the fingers on my left hand
were the culprits in stirring up the broth. When I pulled the
lips apart slightly and ran my tongue up her, from as close to
her puckered rear opening as I could reach, over her perineum, up
between the open vaginal lips, finally to the hood over her hard
bump of a clitoris, I heard a slow exhalation from her.
Aaaaahhhh! I was at home again.

I reached up with both arms and found her breasts with my hands
and her nipples with my thumbs and fingers. She reached down and
held her fingertips just on the sides of my face. In her own
time, she came again, her fingers in my hair, trying to pull my
face into her cunt.

I curled up beside her, my right leg over hers, my hand cupping
her breast. My cock was still erect, pressed against her hip, but
I was content and ready for sleep. She wasn't'.

"I want to suck you off, Kieran."

"You don't have to do that, Sioned."

"I know. But you didn't come last night. Your balls must be full
of sperm. I want to suck you off. I want you to come in my mouth.
I want to swallow it. I want to wake up tomorrow morning with the
taste still in my mouth. Will you kiss me then?"

"I always do, don't I?"

She had me straddle her, my knees on each side of her chest. She
had me hold onto the headboard of the bed with both hands. I was
leaning over her, my balls dangling below her chin, my cock above
her face, chin to forehead. She shifted her position slightly,
bent my cock down, and took it in her mouth. She held it with one
hand and played with my balls with the other. I surrendered to
her.

A minute or so later, I gave her a mouthful. She held it, still
sucking, until I felt emptied. She swallowed.

We wrapped ourselves up in each other and rested in the cool and
the quiet. I held her left breast in my right hand with her
nipple trying to protrude between my two middle fingers.

"You asked me to describe Kavan. I've been thinking about Arial
off and on today. Would you like to hear my description of her?"
She nodded. "Soft fingers around my heart. Blue eyes and blonde
hair and a little nose in my memory.  A sweetness and caring that
permits no further definition of love. If angels exist, she's
God's model.

"She's just a girl, Kieran."

"She's you, Sioned. She's me. And she's so much just her own
self."

I went to sleep spooned up against her naked ass with my hand on
her breast. I knew I was blessed to be a man in a world with
women like Sioned, my wife.

<><><>

On Sunday morning, I was awakened when Sioned started moving to
get out of bed. I grabbed her, gave her the kiss I had promised
her the night before, and turned over and pulled the pillow over
my head.

 Sunday was a quiet and peaceful family day.

 Sioned had coffee made when I wandered into the kitchen, still
smelling of sex. She was already clean and smelling of herself
and herbs and spices and flowers as usual. She let me have one
cup of coffee before sending me to take a shower. When I
returned, she put an onion bagel with cream cheese in front of me
and another cup of coffee. She scrubbed a fresh peach for me and
then cut it into eights, the way I liked it, and put that in
front of me.

The kids came in next and she fixed them breakfast to order and
then gave them their first fresh fruit for the day. For the rest
of the morning, Sioned and I read the paper, did the crossword
puzzle, and let the kids do whatever they wanted to do. After
lunch of leftovers, we all put on clothes and went for a walk
down the hill to the river bottom.

A couple of hours later, we climbed back up the hill, took off
our clothes poolside, and played for an hour or so. I finally
called the kids out and we went in through the basement for our
usual shower. Afterwards we made sandwiches for supper. I went
back to our bedroom, chose clothes for work on Monday, and then
turned on the overhead fan and lay down on the bed. Sioned came
in a few minutes later, asked what I was doing, got "Nothing" in
reply, and crawled in beside me. She put her head on my shoulder
and I curled her arm around her. We didn't need to talk; life was
perfect.

After a little while, Kerry came in, crawled up in the bed, and
wiggled himself between us. He put his hand on Sioned's breast
and I spooned up to his butt. He gave a big sign of happiness or
content; life was perfect.

Arial was next. She stood at the food of the bed, watching us,
her face a beautiful angel's, her body a forest nymph or sprite.
I watched as her eyes misted up as they often did when she was
emotionally happy. She curled up behind me and wrapped her arm
around me. I waited, knowing that Kavan would soon show up. When
he did, he grinned, said, "Ah, hah, fooling around again, aren't
you?"

When nobody said anything, he stretched out behind his mother and
put one arm over her. Life was perfect.

We all lay quietly, lost in our own thoughts, or without any need
to think. Arial broke the lengthy silence.

"Dad, could we have another good talk tonight, you know, about
love and sex and stuff like that?"

"Yes, Arial, what do you want to know?"

"Kavan and I've been talking. Kerry too, but I don't think he
understands that much yet. We've been reading that book you and
Mom gave us, the good one with all the pictures of people doing
stuff with each other."

"Are you having trouble understanding some of it? I've told you
I'd give you honest answers. You've got to get used to asking me
honest questions."

"Yeah, Dad," Kavan came in, "we've been reading the chapters on
cunnilingus and fellatio. Am I pronouncing them right?"

"Yes, Kavan, but it's not important that you learn to pronounce
them right. It's important that you learn to do them right."

"We read about how people do it. We looked at the pictures of
them doing it. But we don't understand why people want to do it.
Arial tried it with Kerry and they didn't understand why it's
such a big deal. She says she doesn't want to do it with me
because I come now. I don't know whether I want to do it with
her. If I do want to do it, is it OK with you and Mom if Kerry
and I do it with her?"

"Kavan, maybe there are some things you're too young to
understand," Sioned said. "The simple answer is that we love each
other very much. I do it to Kieran because it gives him a lot of
pleasure. He does it for me for the same reason."

"But Mom," Arial said, "Kavan comes now. I see the stuff that
comes out of his cock and I don't want that in my mouth. Does Dad
do that in your mouth?"

"Yes, Arial," she answered truthfully. "He comes in my mouth
sometimes. Sometimes we do oral sex to get warmed up, what's
called foreplay. Most of the time, he comes in my vagina."

"Well, if he comes in your mouth, whaddaya do with it?" Kerry
wanted to know.

"Your Dad comes more than Kavan does. Kavan's body is just
changing into a man's. But most of the time, a man's come -
ejaculate, if you want the big term - is only about a teaspoon.
What did you do with that teaspoon of cough medicine I gave you
last winter?"

"I swallowed it, `cause you told me to."

Kavan gave me a big smile at that, Arial said "gross" and Kerry
said "yuk."

"There's nothing gross about it," Sioned insisted. "If you really
love someone, there's nothing gross about that person's vaginal
or seminal fluids. Your dad puts his mouth on my vagina and uses
his tongue and lips to help me have orgasms. I take his penis in
my mouth and help him. It's not gross. You've seen me and your
father kissing. You kids might call it French kissing or deep
kissing. Is that gross?"

"No, Mom," Arial said. "I like to watch you two do that. It makes
me know you love each other. Kinda makes me get all hot down
there too."

"We kiss each other the same way after we've had oral sex with
each other. There's nothing gross about it. Makes me get kinda
hot down there too."

"Yeah, same goes for me," the other of us two said.

"When was the last time you did it with each other? Arial asked.

Sioned looked at me, questioningly, and I said, "Last night."

"Really," squealed Kavan, his voice cracking in the middle of the
word.

"Neat," said Kerry, "I wish we could have seen you two doing it.
That'd be better than those dumb pictures any day."

"Mom, Dad, could you do it again tonight?" Arial begged. "And let
us watch?

"Yeah, Mom and Dad, please, that'd be neat."

"Yeah, Mom and Dad, please, do it again, please, we won't bother
you. We just want to watch. We'll go to bed when you're done and
you two can sleep together."

I smiled at the idea of our children giving us permission to
sleep together. I looked at Sioned and raised my eyebrows, asking
if she wanted to let our three kids watch us.

The previous night was a dress rehearsal. On Sunday night, we put
on the full performance. For an appreciative audience.

(SIONED)

On Monday night, Kieran asked me if I wanted to complete my story
about Ales. I hesitated, unsure.

"You don't have to, you know. If it's hurting you, you can stop.
If it ends painfully, just say so and we'll forget all about it."

"It hurt then, Kieran, but it didn't end painfully. It just
ended. I never understood why but it did."

"You left off where you went back to your apartment and cried. I
can understand why. Did Ales begin to understand and try
to...what...love you, fuck you... whatever..., so that you were
happy with him?"

"I don't know. I'll let you be the judge of that. Anyway, he
called me on Monday and we talked. But not about what we had
done. He called on Tuesday and we talked more. He invited me to
have lunch with him at the museum on Wednesday. I was surprised
at that because he'd seemed reluctant to let others see our
growing closeness."

<><><>

We were eating lunch in the Museum cafeteria. Ales was talkative,
bubbling over with fascinating glimpses of what his life in
Europe had been like. At one point, he put his hand on the table,
palm up, making some point. I put my hand on top of his. His
fingers closed around my hand.

Suddenly he looked at me and then looked around at all the people
in the cafeteria. I started to remove my hand but he held on to
me. When I looked at him, I thought I could see a sudden
reflection off tears in his eyes.

""Don't pull away from me, Sioned. Please understand. I'm not
free to do whatever I want. If I were, I'd make you stand up on
this table with me and I'd kiss you for the whole world to see.
My father's and mother's grips aren't easily loosened."

Of course a mushy line like that was enough to warm a poor girl's
heart. I smiled and slowly eased my hand away.

On Saturday, I had guide duty at the Museum in the morning from
nine to one. He called on Friday, asked me to have lunch with
him, "not at the Museum," but at an Italian restaurant he'd
found. I couldn't refuse. But I wondered what he had in store for
Saturday afternoon.

The lunch was a special occasion - at least for me, perhaps
ordinary for Ales. He surprised the restaurant staff with his
easy use of Italian and soon we were receiving the very best of
service. The restaurant owner even came out, carrying a bottle of
something, with three glasses. He sat with us while he and Ales
decided what we should have for lunch. We had to wait almost
another hour before we were served and the restaurant was almost
empty of other customers. I tried to hold back on the fresh bread
and the herbed olive oil dip. The wait was well worth the time.

In Ales' car afterward, neither of us spoke. He darted smiling
glances at me while he drove me wherever he wanted - back to his
apartment.

Once inside, I took off my guide's blue blazer. I loosened the
top button on my cotton shirt and threw my hair back loosely over
my shoulders. Ales watched when I reached down to the button on
my skirt. I unbuttoned, slid the zipper part way down and
stopped.

"I'm stuffed. Do you mind if I get comfortable?"

He smiled at me, said excuse me, and went to the bathroom,
shutting the door very quietly. But I could still hear him,
drilling down into the toilet bowl like a fire hose. He lingered
long enough afterward that I knew he had washed his hands.

"My turn," I said, when he came out.

The seat on the commode was down. It was dry. I thought perhaps
Ales had some potential yet.

When I came out, Ales was in the bedroom, sitting on the foot of
the bed. He was taking his shoes off. I watched as he pulled his
socks off, stood up and pulled his pants off, carefully folded
them and put them in the closet on a hanger. He was cute standing
there in his white shirt and white briefs. When he took off the
shirt, I decided it was my turn. I removed my shirt and skirt and
tossed them on a chair. Ales watched fascinated as I reached
behind to release my brassiere. He shook his head in mock
puzzlement, wondering why the clasp was in the back. When my
breasts spilled out, he opened his mouth and gasped.

I started to peel my panties down but he said, "Wait." I watched
as he removed his briefs and his cock quickly stood up in welcome
to me. "Would you get on the bed, please? Let me look at you?"

I stretched out on the bed, stretched, as in cat, and let him
watch. I kept my legs apart and his eyes locked on my white
panties. He stood still for minutes, breathing deeply, looking at
me. I could see his hard cock jerking involuntarily every few
seconds.

Finally he crawled on the bed, up between my legs. He put his
head on my stomach, face down, inhaled deeply, and then turned to
one side. His hands began to move over me, sliding softly up to
my shoulders, over my breasts, down along my sides, to my hips,
and down my legs. Again and again. I began to think that, yes,
there might be hope for Ales yet.

Eventually he moved lower, caught my legs one at a time, and
lifted them on his back. He put his face down between my legs,
his nose and mouth directly over my vagina. He breathed deeply,
slowly, and then slid his hands up under my ass. He lifted me
slightly and I turned my pelvis slightly to make myself more
accessible to him. I felt his wet tongue licking upward on my wet
panties. I wanted desperately for him to take my panties off.

Finally he did. When he had them off both legs, he put his head
back on my stomach. His breath was uneven, as though he might be
crying. I felt warm tears on my stomach and wondered what the
hell was going on.

When he slowly, hesitantly, moved lower, I looked down and saw
see that his eyes were closed. "Look at me, please. Ales, please
look at me." He looked upward at my face first and then downward
between my legs. I knew my lips there were open and wet when he
finally put his mouth there. He was so tentative, so slow, so
gentle, when I wanted him to lick me hard, to suck on me, to make
me come.

But again, he moved back up on my stomach and I felt his ragged
breathing and sniffing. He stayed there for just a minute this
time and then moved back down. This time, he seemed to lose all
reluctance. He completely changed and started licking everything
his mouth could find. He caught my vaginal lips between his teeth
and mouth and pulled and then sucked. He probed as deeply into me
as his mouth would reach. He almost rooted in me, as a pig might
root for truffles. Eventually he found one. I held his head
unmoving in my hands while he tongued and sucked my clit until I
burst into a skyrocketing orgasm.

When I opened my eyes, Ales was on his hands and knees between my
legs. If his tongue had been hanging out, I'd have patted him on
the head and said good boy. His tail was wagging but it was
pointing the wrong way, toward me. It wasn't his tail, just
joking.

He smiled and then left the bed and went to the bathroom. When he
came back, his face was freshly washed and his hair was freshly
combed. I took my bathroom turn, still trying to understand him.

He was stretched out on the bed, cock still hard and pointing
upward on his stomach. I curled up beside him, gave him a quick
kiss, and put my hand on his cock.

"Ales, I'm going to give you a choice. It's your turn now but I
want you to do what I say. I'd like to give you a blow job," he
frowned at that, "I'd like to make love to you with my mouth the
same way you just did. If you won't let me do that, I want to get
on top of you and make you come that way."

He thought for a minute and I could see his brows tighten. "But
why, Sioned? I didn't want to do that to you. But I did want to,
I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to but I didn't, does that make
any sense?"

I couldn't think of a good answer.

"And why do you want to have sex with me with you on top? Why
can't we do it the proper way, with me on top?"

"Ales, I'll give you a third choice. I'll get on my hands and
knees and you can fuck me from behind."

He looked at me with quick surprise and I wondered if he thought
I'd meant in the Greek way.

"In my cunt, Ales, in my cunt, my vagina, not my anus." I
wondered why I hadn't said asshole.

He finally made his choice. He wanted me to suck him off. I did.
He came. I swallowed. He wouldn't kiss me again until I got up
and washed my face and brushed my teeth. Poor Ales. I knew he was
hopeless.

After that I suppose he sensed my reluctance to meet with him. We
had lunch two more times but I begged off on going to his
apartment. I saw him a few times around the museum after that but
he didn't seem to see me. I resigned from my guide job the next
week, begging off with the excuse that, with all my college study
load, I didn't have time. Poor Ales.

(KIERAN)

"You describe Ales so well in some ways. But it's like there's
some part of him missing, some big emptiness. I guess that's what
I can't understand."

"I couldn't understand it either, Kieran," my wife said, " and
perhaps emptiness is a good way to say it. Or maybe an empty
enigma. I cried myself to sleep too many nights trying to
understand. I had to tell him goodbye to keep myself whole. I
knew I couldn't be like him; I didn't think he could be like me."

"May I change the subject," I asked. "I've tried to use words to
describe two of our children. I dare you to try to do it with
Kerry."

She was silent for a few minutes. Kerry was an enigma too, not an
empty one but one bursting with life and love.

"Joy, laughter. A beautiful body, an enigmatic mind, a rapier
wit, a never-ending delight, a bouncing hop-skip-jump, an eternal
boy. Something about love, about how he gives it so freely."

"Not bad. I'd add something else like - the miracle our love
created."

Poor Ales. Why did he end up Poor Ales? How did I get to be rich,
very rich, Kieran? Sioned, Kavan, Arial, Kerry. No man could be
richer.

It was getting late. We both had to be up at our regular time for
work and school tomorrow. But I knew I couldn't let my wife go to
sleep without showing her how much I loved her.

She had pulled the sheet over us when she started the second part
of her story about Ales. I kicked it down to the foot of the bed
and moved up on top of her, my thighs between her widespread
legs. My cock was hard, drooling again, pinned between our
stomachs. I wanted to travel the old, always-new, journey I'd
traversed so many times before. I started with gentle kisses,
nips and smacks, licks and brushes, evolving slowly into open
mouth tongue sucking and fucking.

In time, I moved down to her breasts, wishing that the lights
were on so that I could see with my eyes what I was feeling with
my mouth.

In time again, I moved downward on her, pausing at her navel,
still a taut upright oval of an indentation, before finally
heading, yes, heading, toward my goal. She held me gently by my
ears while I licked her to gentle ripples of coming, like pebbles
dropped in a pond, and finally to a splash of orgasm, like a
boulder dropped from a cliff. I knew I'd hear the old joke about
how does a French woman hold her licker/liquor tomorrow.

I moved back up to her mouth again, my mouth redolent of her
vagina, and kissed her slowly and gently. Poor Ales.

When she started moving her body against mine, I pulled her over
on top of me. She ground her pelvis against mine until I reached
down, held my cock upright, and she slowly slid down its length.
She moved onto her knees, leaning back impaled on my cock, and
began to move up and down. Her hands were on my chest. I reached
for her breasts and felt the tangle of her hair on my arms. She
came again, a wrenching orgasm that made me wonder if she could
possibly snap my cock off at the root. Pool Ales.

I waited again, knowing she would signal me when she was ready.
Without a word, she started rolling over on her back. I held her
and we completed the move, still connected. I started slowly as
always, savoring her flesh on mine, and quickly lost
consciousness of anything except our coupling. When I felt the
first twinges of urgency, I simply let my body do what it wanted
to do - pour out my semen at the entrance to her womb. Poor Ales.
Rich Kieran.

TO BE CONTINUED:






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