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Message-ID: <48638asstr$1091095804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: anon584c@nyx.net (Uther Pendragon)
Reply-To: anon584c@nyx.net
Subject: {ASSM} new "RTFM 3" {Uther} (MF msolo M1st) [3/4]
Lines: 531
Date: Thu, 29 Jul 2004 06:10:04 -0400
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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, 2004, 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. 

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.  

                              =--=
                              RTFM
                            by Uther 
                            Pendragon
                        anon584c@nyx.net

Chapter 3:

Marge was dating other men, and only one date a week was 
available for John.  She was almost certainly shagging the other 
men.  John had bouts of jealousy, which he concealed from Marge.  
He could pout or he could make each time memorable for both of 
them.  

As a science student, he'd been told about the dialogue between 
theory and experiment.  Now he lived it.  The books could tell 
him generalities, and he would find on Marge the experimental 
reality.  The books would suggest variations, and she would 
refuse them, enjoy them, or find them awkward.  He learned that 
one changed diaper turned her on as much as the same amount of 
time kissing.  She felt alone and a 'we' dealing with the problem 
was worth celebrating.  On the other hand, *he* sure enjoyed the 
kissing more.

He would take her out, drive the sitter home, and return.  One 
night, he stopped her on the way into the apartment.

"Do you guys ever go on picnics?" he asked.

"Not this year."

"If I take care of the rest of it, can you take care of Katydid?  
Think about it.  I'll take Mary home."

It wasn't worth a drive.  Mary lived a block over.  He walked her 
to her house and watched from the sidewalk as her mother let her 
in.  When he came back, Marge had considered.

"Y'know, the picnic idea sounds like fun."

"Does Sunday work?  Or are you churchgoers?"

"Sunday?  This Sunday?"

"That's what I meant.  Is it a problem?"

"No.  Sounds great."

"Eleven?"

"Fine."

That night, when she lay back on the couch, he brought a kitchen 
chair to sit beside her and stroked all of his favorite parts.  
She became quite excited and reached for him.  He rolled the 
condom on, but wouldn't join her.

"No, dear, you come to me."

She was dubious, but willing.  She sat on his legs for a moment 
while he played with her again.  Then she raised herself and he 
slid forward in the chair.  She lowered herself and inserted him.

"Slowly, Marge, slowly."  That was one thing the books had 
emphasized.

She impaled herself slowly, holding on to his shoulder with one 
hand and adjusting his phallus with the other.  He could suck her 
breasts in this position, and he did.  She responded by moving 
against him.  The instinctual muscle patterns produced quite 
different motions in this position.  The sensations were 
different, as well. She seemed to grasp him at the base and rub 
the tip all over her insides.  He reached down between them and 
found her clitoris.  He stroked it in time with her motions, and 
sucked her nipples in time with both.

She gasped and her motions became erratic.  She clawed his 
shoulders.  He felt her vagina clutch him, and that triggered his 
own thrusts.  His position was even less mobile than hers, but he 
grasped her buttocks and pulled her to him as his legs strained 
to thrust.  In a minute, he was pouring himself upward into her 
quivering warmth.

She slumped against him.  He had to keep hold of her and couldn't 
relax completely.  Their breathing slowed.

"That was nice," she said finally.

"Me too, but it's always nice with you."

She kissed him, not passionately.  He reached down to hold the 
condom on as she lifted herself.  He dressed, kissed her again, 
and left.

                              - = - 

John overstocked for the picnic, but bought only cold food.  His 
father scowled at him as he came down to breakfast in jeans and 
t-shirt while his parents were dressed for church.

He and Marge ate.  Then they cuddled while Katy played on the 
grass.  John started unbuttoning Marge's blouse.

"Out in the open like this?"

"Who's here to see?  Anyway, get out of your bra and put the 
blouse back on."

She did, not rebuttoning the blouse, and he spent a pleasant hour 
playing with her soft breasts.  Sometimes they kissed heatedly, 
and sometimes he lay in her lap and talked.  In that position, 
she would bend over occasionally, and he would kiss her through 
the cloth.  As the kisses grew passionate again, he stroked up 
her thighs beneath her skirt.  She spread her legs, and he 
stroked her through her panties.

"We can't out here."

"If we can't, we won't.  Maybe, we'll go back to your place when 
Katydid falls asleep.  Let's do what we can out here."  And he 
kissed her again.

Then the toddler was visited by a honeybee.  Neither party 
attacked the other, but Marge panicked.  The baby responded as 
any sensible young mammal would to a mother's panic.  She caught 
it and doubled it.  The picnic was over and they headed home.  
John explained that the cooler and basket were his parents', but 
the food wasn't needed back there.  Marge objected a little, but 
he took two trips up her stairs.  

While Marge was storing things, he offered to change Katydid.  
The baby had had too much excitement and not enough sleep, but he 
brought her dry into the living room and turned on the TV.  The 
dancing pictures caught her attention, and she was asleep in ten 
minutes.  He eased her down onto the couch.  Marge came in and 
wanted to take her to her crib, but he shook his head.  He took 
her hand and led her into the bedroom.

The change of location put her off for a moment, but she 
cooperated in the kiss.  Their tongues played tag while he 
squeezed her buttocks.  He weighed one breast in his hand and 
then touched the nipple through the cloth.  She held his face as 
she tried to get her tongue deeper into his mouth.  He opened her 
blouse and kissed her nipples which were sticking straight out.  
They tasted of salt.  She shrugged out of the blouse and then 
smoothed her hands over his back.  She started pulling at his 
shirt.

He broke away to pull off the t-shirt and when he looked, she was 
removing her skirt.  He started on his own and when he was done, 
she was lying on the far side of the bed.  She still had on her 
panties.  Momentarily embarrassed by his nakedness, he turned 
away as he got the condom from his wallet and palmed it.  He 
slipped it under the pillow as he got into bed.

He started with a kiss again, and cupped and teased her nipple.  
One thing that he learned fast about bed was that he needed his 
left arm to hold himself up.  He kissed her all over her face and 
then moved to her breasts.  For a few minutes, he kissed the near 
one and teased and caressed the far one.  Then he shifted and 
licked the far nipple.  He stroked down her side three times.  
The third time, he went on from her hip across her mound.  The 
panties were damp, and he hoped it wasn't just sweat.  He cupped 
her there, feeling the softness of he folds through the cloth.  
She lifted her hips and he shifted to kneel at her side.

He got one hand at each side of the elastic band.  She lifted her 
hips and he pulled them down.  As she shifted her legs to 
accommodate him, he got them off and put them on the foot of the 
bed on his side.  His stiff erection bobbed at every move, making 
him terribly self conscious.  She spread her knees and he clasped 
her again, his palm on her matted hair and his fingers touching 
her soft folds.  He dropped down to lie beside her without 
removing his hand.  She turned her head and they were looking 
each other in the eyes while he parted the outer lips and then 
the inner ones.  Between these, it was flowing with her moisture.

"Oh Marge."

He stroked down there gently, unsure of what he was doing but 
watching her face.  He found her clitoris.  She gasped and he 
tried to move more lightly still.

She reached for him.  He evaded her and reached under the pillow.  
The packet was hard to find, then hard to open.  He rolled it on, 
having rehearsed that part.  Getting between her knees was less 
clumsy than the time before.  She was lying there waiting for him 
to act.  He got himself down and spread her lips again with his 
hand.  He entered the valley, rolled so that he was balanced on 
both arms, found the entrance and pushed gently.  He'd done 
something right, for he slid straight in.

Fully within her, he shifted his weight so that he was on his 
elbows.  He paused a moment to enjoy the sensation of being 
enclosed and then began to stroke in and out.  He was moving his 
whole body and he brushed his chest against her nipples.  They 
stiffened.  He tried to move slowly, and feel the warm wall grip 
him through the rubber.  Marge started moving under him, and it 
took him two strokes to figure out how to deal with this.  She 
was moving a little faster than he had been, but he matched her 
pace.  She stroked up his arms to his shoulders, then down his 
back to his butt.  She wrapped her legs around him and rested her 
feet on his calves.  She was pushing back at him as hard as he 
was stroking into her.  The pressure was building in him and he 
knew he was close.

"John?"

"I'm right here."  And then she groaned.  She was pushing hard 
against him and her tunnel was rhythmically clasping around his 
erection.  He pulled back, drove forward, and came in pulses.  He 
collapsed upon her.

"Can you move?" Marge asked. 

It could have been hours later, but the light from the window was 
no different.  He rolled off her and out of her.  The condom 
stayed inside.  She reached down, pulled it out, and threw it in 
the wastebasket.

"Sorry.  Was I gone long?"

She giggled.  "That's one way to describe it.  Not more than a 
minute."

"You have beautiful breasts."  His breath was just now returning 
to normal.  "Beautiful face too.  But I'd seen that years ago.  
C'mere."

She moved over, kissed him and then turned her back.  It 
surprised him for a second, partly because he was breathing hair.  
After he had pushed her hair out of his face, however, he found 
the spoon cuddle quite enjoyable.  Indeed, he got another 
erection.  He realized that he *didn't* have another condom.  She 
snuggled deeper against it but made no other move.  Ten minutes 
later they broke apart.  The weather wasn't made for this, and 
they were both pouring sweat.

She got up and covered him with the sheet.  When she returned 
dressed, he took his clothes to the bathroom sponged himself off 
with a washcloth and dressed.

She was changing the baby when he came out and the afternoon was 
obviously over.  He kissed Katy goodbye, kissed Mommy goodbye, 
and left.

                              - = - 

The next date, Marge seemed in a bad mood and suggested that they 
skip the movie.  She took a paper cup of soda with her from the 
restaurant.  John was excited as he drove her home, but she asked 
him to turn off.  She guided him to an isolated spot, and he 
pulled her over to kiss.  Shortly into the kiss, she unzipped his 
trousers.  This forward behavior, and the openness of the 
surroundings excited him greatly.  By the time her hand reached 
it, his erection was rock hard.

"I'm having my period.  Don't come back to the house after taking 
the sitter home."  

Then she bent over and took him in her mouth.  There was no easy 
way to reach her breasts, and he sat with his left hand on her 
head and his right patting her back.

At first, she held the shaft in her hand, and only licked and 
lipped the tip.  Then she closed her lips behind the glans and 
sucked before rolling her tongue all around it.  The tongue felt 
rougher than her smooth vagina, but softer than the hand he was 
more used to.

When she began to move her mouth up and down along the shaft, he 
tongue was on one side rather than the bottom of his glans.  
Still, the sensations were exciting him, the idea was exciting 
him, there was no reason to try to hold back.  The tensions built 
swiftly.

"Marge.  I'm about ..."  Acknowledging sounds from his lap.  She 
held the bottom third of his shaft in her fingers and bobbed 
faster on the rest.

"I can't come in your mouth!"  She lifted her head for a second.

"Do."

She licked the underside of the glans again.  Then she settled 
back down.  The idea repelled him.  The idea excited him.  The 
excitement and the sensations combined to send him toward the 
edge.  He found himself pushing her head down as she worked.  
Then he felt his himself peaking.  He rose an inch in the seat 
and pushed her head down.  She sucked hard and pulled up still 
sucking.  He spurted in her and she kept sucking.  He spurted 
four more times, less after the second.

She swung up, grabbed a Kleenex out of her purse and held it on 
him with her left hand.  She opened the door on her side and spit 
out.  She grabbed the Coke, sipped hard, spit again, then 
repeated that.

He took the Kleenex from her and finished wiping himself off.  
She handed him another, and he wrapped it about his member and 
stuck it back in his shorts.

"Sorry," she said, "I still have trouble swallowing it."  She was 
now drinking the Coke.

"I never asked you to."  The reminder that she did this with 
others was much more of a turnoff than the activity of spitting.  
He considered his options, then got out of the car and adjusted 
his clothing.

He drove her home.  When he drove the babysitter home, he 
continued on to his own house.  Somehow, he hadn't taken any 
opportunity to kiss Marge good night.

                              - = - 

On the next date, April called in sick at the last minute.  Marge 
called John while his parents were finishing their dessert.  He 
first thought of strangling April -- which wouldn't solve the 
child-care problem, then of strangling Katydid -- which would.  
Finally he had an idea which was worth sharing.

"You have to eat, anyway," he said.  "Have you thought what?"

"There are some cans here."

"I'll stop by the pizza place.  Get glasses and plates set up.  
40 minutes.  Katy can have what you allow her from ours, get 
whatever she needs special for her.  I'll take care of the rest."

He phoned in the order, and stopped by the grocery for pop, 
dessert, lettuce and dressing.  On impulse, he bought a cheap 
plastic tablecloth.  The pizza order was ready soon after he 
arrived, and he got to Marge's within his deadline.

Katy, who had just had supper, turned out to adore pizza, though 
not to the point of swallowing much of it.  She bathed in tomato 
sauce and cooed and babbled through the meal.  She was no better 
for John's appetite than his nephew, Troy, was.  She had a little 
ice cream and Momma took her to bed an hour behind her schedule 
and more behind John's.  This time, he didn't offer to do the 
changing.

While Marge got her kid somewhat clean, John cleaned up the 
kitchen and prepared the living room.  He pulled the cushions off 
the sofa and draped them with his plastic table cloth.  He found 
two bowls and filled one with lukewarm water, and the other with 
ice.  He sniffed the washcloths in the bathroom and rinsed out 
the three which smelled least of sour milk.  He found two clean 
glasses large enough for root beer floats, spooned the ice cream 
into them, and put them away in the refrigerator.  He rescued the 
straws that he had picked up in the pizza parlor.  He still had 
time to wait.

Marge came back looking frazzled.  

"What's that in the living room?" she asked.

"Take off your blouse and go lie down there."

"Look, in this heat I don't need ..."

"Please."

She did.  He poured the root beer to make the floats, inserted 
the straw, and took them in.

"Turn over."  She did, and he put her float in front of her face.

As she began drinking it, he took one washcloth, dipped it in the 
lukewarm water, and began rubbing her back with it.  She sighed 
and relaxed.  He took her arms one at a time and wiped them with 
the cloth.  When he unsnapped her bra, she cooperated.  After 
wiping all the surfaces on that side, and after kneading her 
tired shoulders with the wet cloth, he sat back on his heels and 
sipped at his float.

"That is the first time I've felt cool since leaving the store.  
Thanks."

"Take the rest of your clothes off."

She turned back over and removed the skirt and panties.  At a 
gesture, she returned to lying on her stomach and he straddled 
her facing her feet.  Again, he rinsed every surface, starting at 
her waist.  He avoided the space between her buttocks, but he 
included the insides of her thighs as he proceeded down.  After 
he cleaned her feet, he tossed that washcloth onto a loose corner 
of the plastic and returned to rubbing her shoulders for a 
minute.

"All done.  Turn over."

She did.  He wiped off her face with the second cloth and then 
kissed her.  His shirt was getting wet and he removed it and the 
t-shirt.  Then he wiped down her neck, arms and torso.  He 
skipped her breasts.  When he returned to them, he dipped the 
washcloth in the ice water.  Her nipples stood up at attention, 
and she shivered.  He squeezed the cloth over her mound and let 
the water run over her pubic hair and between her legs.  She 
shivered again and reached for him.

He dropped the cloth and kissed her, covering her cool torso with 
his sweaty chest.  The kiss was a long one involving tongue play.  
Then he began stroking her with his hand.  At first, he merely 
touched her side and hip, then he reached between them to cover 
and rub her breast.  When he broke the kiss, he took one breath 
and then began kissing her all over her damp face.  He proceeded 
down her neck and chest, then circled the near breast and kissed 
the valley between her breasts, pressing them together against 
his face.

Only his left hand was free and he stroked the length of her body 
with it from her shoulder to her knee.  After a minute he kissed 
up her far breast until he met the areola.  He licked a circle 
just at the edge of the areola and then across it to touch the 
nipple.  As he sucked the nipple, he began to stroke between her 
thighs.  These tensed against his hand and then fell open.  He 
continued sucking her breast and stroking her thighs, reversing 
as soon as his hand brushed her mound.  Then he left her breast, 
dropped a quick kiss on her mouth, and shifted to the other 
breast.

This time when his hand moved up, he cupped her entire mound.  
She spread her thighs more, and he caressed her outer lips with 
two fingers.  Then he gently massaged the peak of he mound.  Her 
breathing seemed shallower, and she began to push her groin up at 
his fingers.  He spread her labia apart and his fingers were 
drenched.  What had been a technical, if lustful, enterprise 
stiffened him with desire.  He freed his mouth from her breast.

"Oh, Marge!"

He watched her frowning face as he stroked upward in the cleft.  
She grew more and more tense, then she gasped as he found her 
clitoris.  He returned to the bottom of the cleft, and kept his 
fingers there as he rocked back on his heels.  Then he repeated 
the stroke with his left hand as he tried to deal with his 
clothes with his right.  He had his trousers and underpants down 
to his thighs when he began rubbing in a circle over her clitoral 
area.  She was breathing harder and her frown had become a tense 
rictus.  He managed to tear open the packet of the Trojans and 
fitted it to his penis.  It wouldn't roll down.  He tore his eyes 
from watching her and found that he had it on the wrong way.  He 
reversed and rolled it on.  He abandoned her for a minute to 
stand and pull his clothes the rest of the way off.

She was reaching for him when he moved between her legs.  He 
spread her labia once more with his fingers, stroked the length 
of the cleft once more, glided his finger over the clitoris once 
more.  Then he was at the entry.  He paused while she tugged at 
his arms.  Then he eased in.  The stroke was slow but sure, 
sliding along the fluttering length of her tunnel until his groin 
pressed against hers.  The following strokes were more rapid, and 
she met them with heaves of her own.  He was far along his own 
spiral of desire, but not too far to feel her contractions around 
him.  He pressed into her, clasped her shoulders to him in a hug, 
and rolled to his left.  He didn't miss a stroke as he felt over 
to the iced bowl.  He grabbed the third cloth -- still wrapping 
two ice cubes -- from the bowl of ice water, and clasped it to 
the small of her back.

He rolled her back over onto that chill and she gasped and missed 
a beat against him.  He resumed his strokes, and she moaned and 
her internal sheath was clasping him again and again.  The motion 
was taking him now.  He thought only to clasp her breast with 
his, still ice cold, right hand.  She was calling out into his 
face, clawing at his back, pulsing around his member.  He drove 
into her again and again.  He called out himself.  He rammed home 
once more and spurted his very being into that welcoming, 
spasming, warmth.

The next thought he had was to roll sideways again and remove the 
third cloth.  She was absolutely limp and it was a difficult job.  
When it was done, he was out of her and his muscle control was 
back.  He held himself light on her and lay his head below her 
breasts listening to her heart beat slow.

After it did, she twisted a little, and he decided that she was 
uncomfortable.  He pulled himself back to his feet, and she 
didn't object.  He finished his float, visited the bathroom and 
disposed of his condom, resumed his pants, returned the pots and 
washcloths.  She seemed awake but detached.

"What are you thinking?" he finally asked.

"I'm never going to be able to get up from here."

"Sure you are."

He went into the bedroom and folded the sheet over to one side.  
He returned to the living room and carefully knelt by Marge's 
side.  Then he did a three-stage lift.  She grabbed him around 
the neck as soon as he started, so they were fairly well balanced 
going into the bedroom.  He actually tucked her in and kissed her 
forehead.  He checked on Katy and straightened her covers.

"I'll let myself out."

And, after straightening up himself and the living room, he did.


Concluded in Chapter 4
RTFM
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
2004/07/29

Thanks to Neneh for editing this. 

For another story concerning the extension of sexual experience:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/brennan/foreplay.htm
"Foreplay"

The index to all my stories currently available:
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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