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Message-ID: <62155asstr$1335859802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Sharing - M" -- MF wl -- Uther
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Date: Tue, 01 May 2012 04:10:02 -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, 2011, 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
nogardneprethu@gmail.com.

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.


Sharing - M
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com

MF wl

When school began in August of '77, Andy Trainor enjoyed himself as he had
almost never before. His honeymoon week had been lovely, and the next month
of being newlyweds alone in Dad's house for four hours every weekday had
been incredibly erotic. Still, those were temporary by definition. Now, he
had Marilyn in his arms every night with expectation of holding her every
night into the future. And these nights began with sex and ended with a
shared shower. When she left him off for class, he knew that they would
both return.

Classes were all engineering, and all electronics. He'd read two of the
books that summer, and was prepared. He didn't really know the subjects; he
still needed the lectures and discussion sections. What he heard in the
lectures, on the other hand, was something he had read about. If he was
less prepared in the other two classes, he was as prepared as any other
student in the class.

Although Marilyn still spent time at her sorority house, she *lived* with
him. She came back every night. She took to leaving him notes he opened
when he got bak on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday as to what chores he
needed to do before she got home. So, he was reminded that she would be
home. And the chores weren't onerous. Vacuuming the living and bedrooms and
cleaning the floors of the kitchen and bathroom took less than an hour
total.

And the food! She tried to cook when he wasn't around, although he really
enjoyed meals more when he could watch her cook them. Still, he ate a meal
with her that she had cooked every evening and for lunch four days of the
week. He ate breakfast across from her, and drank coffee she had made every
morning. Even Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, when she had too many classes
to cook lunch, he ate a meal she'd prepared -- usually a sandwich.

When Zeta started pledging again, he walked or drove her to the house and
picked her up when the sessions were over. Even though the weather was fine
that Saturday, he drove to pick her up.

"Tired?" he asked in the car.

"Not that tired. Really, I feel more exhilarated. We're done, except for
selection, and we did quite well. You can't select a good pledge class
unless they want to look at you. Well, this year, plenty wanted to look at
us."

"I can't imagine anybody not wanting to look at you."

"Silly! These are women. They don't want to look at *me*! They want to see
what Zeta is like. And I think they liked what they saw."

Well, since she'd said she wasn't that tired, when he'd gotten her home and
kissed, he started taking off her clothes. Whatever the girls rushing had
wanted to look at, he wanted to look at her, and he, too, liked what he
saw. When he'd removed her clothes, leaving her wearing a wristwatch, a
necklace, and two earrings, she left him to remove her makeup. He stripped.

In bed, he kissed her again before kissing a slow trail down to her
breasts. She was already juicy when his path finally led him to her vulva.
He licked only her labia until she pulled him closer by his hair. Then he
included her clitoris. When she writhed, he sucked it. When she was merely
twitching, he moved over to kiss her lovely thigh down to the knee.

She said, "Andy please," when he started up again. Well, she might have
been more tired than she had thought. He merely licked her to the point of
tension again. Then he moved over her and into her. She was so slick and
warm as he entered her, so eager for him as she tugged on his butt until
she ha utterly surrounded him.

"I love you." He kissed her hairline.

"You too. Now move." So he moved, stroking slowly in and out through her
warmth. She still clutched his butt, and she pulled him down while she rose
to meet him at every stroke. He could feel her get tense as his own lust
boiled in his belly. He could no longer hold to the slow pace. Her fingers
were clawing his butt, and he was driving in and out at an accelerating
pace.

"Andy!" She clasped around him.

"Christ!" He thrust once more into her writhing frame with all his might.
Then he pulsed into her while her vagina seemed to be milking his essence
out of him.

She looked almost asleep when he finally climbed off her. He nestled up to
her and draped an arm across her recumbent form. He soon joined her in
sleep. When the alarm rang, she didn't respond. He turned it off. This was
Saturday, and she didn't have any classes. He got his own breakfast, which
he ate in the kitchen while she was still in bed. Since she was still
sleeping, he showered alone. Before leaving for class, he raised the sheet
and kissed her sweet belly. She stirred, but didn't really wake up.

When he got back from class, she gave him a hot lunch -- mac and cheese
with greens for veggies and cabbage for salad. She'd even reheated the
greens.

"Eat as much as you want -- no, as much as you can. I can't face those for
another day. I think I'll throw them away, budget or no budget."

"Well, there's no reason to throw them away. You like broccoli, don't you.
I'll get some at the grocery. Tomorrow, you can have broccoli and I'll have
greens. It isn't fair that you don't eat broccoli, which you like, simply
because I don't eat it."

"Andy, I wouldn't do that to you." Marilyn was the sweetest woman, the
sexiest woman, the most beautiful woman possible. She was, often, scary
smart. She wasn't always the most logical woman. What would she be doing to
him if she did what he said? Depriving him of broccoli? He wouldn't eat the
stuff, not even for Marilyn. Making him eat greens? They'd become his
favorite veggie. He'd only had greens that Marilyn had cooked. "Besides,
we're a family. We'll eat family meals." He couldn't quarrel with that.

"Well, leave them in the 'fridge. I'll know that they are free for
snacking. Would it be a family meal if you served broccoli and I just
didn't take any?"

"Andy, you're sweet."

"Does that mean I'm forgiven for taking advantage last night."

"It was just what I needed. I slept like a log, as you may have noticed."

"Yeah. Well, I knew that you didn't have any classes today."

"I love you."

"And I love you, too." He really did. Dad might say that it was all wanting
her, and he wanted her desperately, not only sexually but wanted her in his
life. But he loved her and wanted life to be good for her.

One thing that he should remember that Marilyn wanted was company. She was
all the companionship that he wanted, and before her he'd have been happy
to spend weeks alone. She wanted people around her, and he wasn't enough.
With more than 50 girls to socialize with in Zeta, she went looking for
others in the married-student housing complex. She thought of him when she
did it, and invited a pair of physicists to have dinner with them.

Mark and Nancy were fine people. They were studying what he'd merely read
about. Nancy, who was carrying a child, had to avoid radiation. That meant
that she skipped one lab, but she had special permission for that. He
wasn't sure that anyone who ever wanted children should be exposed, but the
risks couldn't be all that great. Pierre and Marie Curie had had a
perfectly healthy, and damn bright, daughter. The safety precautions in
those days had been minimal or absent, too.

The couple spoke whenever either of them passed in the parking lot or
laundry area, but the friendship didn't develop much beyond that. He was
happy enough, and Marilyn didn't seem to miss it.

Marilyn asked him to do some calculations for their food budget. They'd
bought a vacuum, and that had come out of the food budget for some reason.
What was left was enough, however. He sometimes looked at the candy bars
near the cash register when he went shopping, but he had a wife at home who
provided deeper pleasures.

Marilyn made the point that they didn't eat Sunday dinner after church, but
lunch. Really, except when Dad had decided to go to a restaurant, he hadn't
considered the meal after church as special. Their meals were quick, and
then he walked or drove her to Zeta house for a meeting. She skipped one of
those meetings, though, when Urbana First had a pot luck. She brought loads
of the spaghetti which was one of the most expensive meal of what she now
cooked. The other members of the congregation appreciated it.

They were now one of the married couples of the church -- the most recently
married, but a few included younger women. They had joined as associate
members, and soon got a pledge card. Marilyn said that she felt guilty
about pledging only $1 a week, but that that was what they could afford.

Another Sunday, she left him a lunch in their home and went to Zeta as
guest of the chapter. He ate and washed the dishes. Then he studied for
hours until she got back. He didn't know how long she would take, and he
found himself relieved when she walked in the door.

He got up from his books, picked her up, and kissed her. After a minute,
she shook her head. When he set her down, she disappeared into the
bathroom. He heard the toilet flush. When she got out, she went to the
closet to hang up her dress.

"Now," she said, "do it again." He picked her up and she wrapped her legs
around his hips. Her tongue met his when they kissed. "That skirt couldn't
handle that kiss," she said, though she'd been wearing a dress, not a
blouse and skirt. When he finally put her down, she got on a robe and
studied across from him.

"They're all jealous of me," she said on a break. And they really ought to
be jealous of her, with her beauty and talents. "I have you, and they
don't." Well, they couldn't possible be jealous of that.

"Yeah, sure. Molly asked me why someone as special as you settled for
someone as unspecial as me."

"Well, your sister isn't supposed to see your best aspects. You're kind,
and you're bright, but she isn't supposed to see that you're sexy. Smart
and kind aren't enough."

"Sure. Want to get to the sexy part now?"

"Nope. You've been studying while I've been gabbing. Stick to the
smartness. Bedtime will come soon enough." So they went back to studying.
She took her bathroom time first, and when he came back out from his, she
was still up waiting for him. He picked her up for another kiss, and she
put her legs around him again. Skin to skin was much sexier. The only
mirror in the apartment was on the medicine cabinet, which wasn't much use
for watching themselves like this. He carried her into the bedroom and
lifted her until he could kiss her breast. She put her hands on his
shoulders and took much of the weight. He shifted his hands under her butt
so that one hand could reach her labia. She was already damp, and she
produced more moisture as he stroked her. When he moved his head from the
breast on his left to the one on his right, that nipple was already hard.
As he sucked it, he stroked her clitoris with one finger. She pulled him
tighter into her so he lost the nipple as his head was pressed against her
breastbone.

"Oh, Andy. Now?"

"Yeah. Loosen a little." When she did, he lowered her until her butt
touched the tip of his cock. He adjusted himself a little, raised her a
little, settled her down a little more. He was between her labia,
appreciating their warmth and smoothness.

"Oh, Andy."

"Slowly." And slowly he lowered her. Slowly she surrounded him. "Love you,"
he said when he couldn't go in any farther. He kissed to top of her head
while walking over to the bed. He stood with her over it.

"You, too." She clasped her hands behind his neck. He swayed back and
forth, then side to side. The movements of his cock inside her were small
and slow, but the sensations were exquisite. Her nipples caressed his
chest. He hoped she was feeling something. She stiffened in his arms,
showing that she was. Then she pressed more tightly against him, crushing
her delicate breasts into his chest. He could feel a circle of softness
around the firmness of each nipple.

Then she clasped around his cock and writhed in his arms. His hips swung
forwards and back without his will, even against his will. That moved him a
little in and out, but moved her much more. She'd be perfectly safe if he
dropped her when he was arching forwards, less safe when he was arching
back. He managed to lower her to the bed while still moving like that. He
rested on one arm while taking deep strokes in and out. She was finished
when he erupted.

"Oh, Marilyn. Oh darling. Oh!" He fell to his side, coming out. He was
lying with his right leg across her thigh. When he rolled onto his back, he
was off her. "Love you," he managed to say some time later.

"I love you, too. Let's get into the bed." And they did, spooning mostly on
his side of the bed. She was a darling, a sexy darling.

He would have been content to spend all the time he wasn't required to be
in class in the apartment with her. He kept reminding himself that Marilyn
wouldn't be happy doing that. She, of course, got out to Zeta, but he
didn't want her experience of freedom to be the times she got away from
him. He took her to the dances that the university held. She danced only
with him and no longer suggested that he dance with one of her sisters,
though they sometimes talked with them. At one of these dances, Trish, a
sister whose name he actually remembered. Came up.

"Marilyn, can I beg a ride home?" She'd been crying, and she didn't look
like she wanted him present. This looked like a girls-only tragedy. He got
up.

"Three Cokes?" That would get him away without Trish's asking him to leave.

"Yeah," Marilyn said, "and don't hurry. Something wrong with Ted?" she
asked Trish before he was out of earshot. He got the Cokes and a tray. The
tray was necessary; he spent minutes watching Marilyn dealing with Trish
from a distance greater than the nearest tables. He wouldn't hear anything
that those strangers didn't -- and not all that they did. While he was
watching, another sister came up. They got into it again, and he only had
three Cokes. The band was leading into the last dance. Marilyn always said
that it was important that they dance the last dance together. If this was
going to be the exception, let her make the exception.

Finally, she looked at him. He came over and passed Marilyn and Trish their
Cokes. He decided the other sister got the last Coke.

"Thanks, Andy. You're the nicest guy," that sister said when he passed it
to her.

"That's for damn sure," Trish said. "Marilyn that was the most selfish
thing you could have said." Wottinell was that about? Marilyn was never
selfish.

"What?" Marilyn asked. She seemed to be oblivious to her virtues, but she
must have known about her generosity.

"That we couldn't have him." Well, he wanted Marilyn to be selfish about
that.

"Are we ready to go?" Marilyn asked. That meant that this was more
important to her than the last dance was.

"I'll get the car." When he stopped the car close to the entrance, Marilyn
was waiting with the other two there. He got them and walked them to the
car. After helping Marilyn into her seat, he opened the back passenger-side
door. They both got in, and Trish slid over instead of having him walk her
around the car and open that door.

"Well," the one he couldn't remember said, "Dick lived up to his name. I'm
back looking again. Kathy has been setting up some girls with her
classmates, but I don't want to date a sophomore. Andy, do you have more
males than females in your classes too?" Well, she remembered his name.

"And how! One section has all of two girls in it. But I don't socialize
much outside of class. Getting up in class and passing around your picture
might make the teacher unhappy."

"Andy!" Marilyn said, "Robin isn't that desperate, and she certainly
doesn't want to look that desperate. You have to find a way for her to
choose and then to meet the boy naturally." Okay. Her name was Robin, and
her meeting the boy was a problem. He solved problems. Well, choosing was
easy enough. She could wait outside the classroom when the class was
beginning -- no! probably when it was ending was better; guys dribbled in,
and they could see a girl standing outside watching earlier ones come in.
But how did she communicate the choice? Damn! Marilyn wanted subtlety, and
subtlety wasn't his strong suit.

"Okay," he told her. He'd work on subtlety. If both he and the girl were
outside, then she could signal him. Probably, they should have Marilyn
there, too. They knew he was married, and meeting another woman would be
cause for comment. At this point, they arrived at Zeta House. He walked the
girls to the door and went back to Marilyn.

"Sorry about the last dance," she said when he got in.

"Well, you have to take care of your friends."

"They're your friends, too. Trish and Robin like you."

"I suppose." They might like him, but they competed with him for Marilyn's
attention. Anyway, she had asked him for a solution. How could they meet?
Maybe he and Marilyn could host the two together. A dinner? They could be
honest with Robin. They needed an excuse for the guy. Marilyn wanted
subtlety, he kept remembering.

"Do you have any space in the food budget?" He asked when they were in the
apartment.

"Yeah," she said. "We've been below it every week."

"Even with guests?"

"We haven't had that many guests." But did they have enough slack for
guests?

"Well, if you and Robin met me at the end of class on a particular day...
It would have to be a Tuesday, Thursday or Saturday, wouldn't it? I really
want you there." That didn't communicate immediately, but the only
explanation he could think of began at the beginning.

"Probably. I don't know her schedule."

"Then she could check out my classmates and choose one. If she liked one, I
could invite him to have dinner with us. You could invite her to have
dinner with us the same night. They'd at least meet. I'd want you there
when she made her choice, 'cause I'd have problems with some girl meeting
me. On the other hand, my wife can bring along anyone she wants when she's
meeting me. But it does mean feeding more people."

Marilyn and Robin decided on the 10:00 a. m. Thursday class. He took a seat
near the door and scooted out when Prof. Jansen let the class go. He stood
beside Marilyn with Robin standing behind them. She squeezed his arm when
she saw someone she liked. Sometimes two or three guys left close enough
together that he had to ask for a description later. Robin had chosen Dave,
Bill, and Warren.

He invited Dave to the apartment for some home-cooked food. Probably
meeting Marilyn would have been reason enough. The meal was chili-mac, and
the conversation went pleasantly, but there wasn't any subsequent romance.
Bill was much nicer about Marilyn's cooking, especially the greens.

"You didn't learn to cook like this in Chicago," Bill said.

"Evanston," Marilyn said.

"That's even further north," he pointed out.

"Have some more," Marilyn said, "please."

"I shouldn't," Bill said.

Robin had met a guy on a house date, and wanted to try him out before
Warren. They had a little respite. Then she called Marilyn, Marilyn told
him, and he invited Warren to dinner. Each of them seemed pleased with the
other, and he and Marilyn had a short rest in their entertaining. The rest
wasn't very long, since Trish now wanted to play, too. She and Marilyn met
him Tuesday after the 1:00 class. Trish saw two guys she liked, Barry and
Warren.

"No can do," he said about Warren. "My excuse is that Marilyn wants to do
some entertaining. I can't invite the same guy twice with two different
women." Well, Trish said she preferred Barry anyway. Thursday, he invited
Barry to eat dinner with him and Marilyn the next Tuesday. The meeting
seemed to be a success.

"Please come home for Christmas," Dad wrote. He included two train tickets.
The old man could be manipulative as hell, but he had a sense of fair play.
If you did what he wanted, he paid the bill.

"Does your wife have Robin's phone number?" Dave asked him after class on
Saturday.

"Sure. Robin lives in the sorority where Marilyn lived for 3 years."

"Do you think you could ask her for it?" He'd feel awfully stupid doing so.

"I already know it."

"Oh, of course. You called her there. Could you give it to me? I'm not
going with Sophia any more."

"Sure. He wrote it down for Dave. "But maybe you shouldn't call before
Monday. They are in the middle of a big project." He barely saw Marilyn
during Hell Week. He didn't think that Robin would have time for a date
with Dave.

"Thanks for the advice."

He'd forgotten that conversation by the time Marilyn dragged herself home
that night. She had the car for Hell Week.

"You're sure," he asked her, "that it's harder on the pledges?"

"Hell Week is definitely harder on the pledges. It's harder on the other
actives but me, too. Somebody has to wake the pledges at 3:00 a. m. I'm out
of that, thanks to you." He wasn't sure that anybody *had* to do that stuff
at all.

When she asked him to come into her after she'd writhed for the first time,
he did immediately. She normally had the capacity for many more lovely
orgasms, but he wasn't sure that she would have the strength that night. In
the morning, they didn't return to bed but did share a shower. She dropped
him off after church and returned to Zeta House. She was even later when
she got home from that meeting. He studied while she was gone -- worried,
too, but what else did he have to do but study?

"Long day?" he asked when she came in.

"It's over. Hell Week is over, my last Hell Week."

"You really sure that it's harder on the pledges?" He was repeating
himself, but he had trouble believing it.

"Believe me. It's much harder on the pledges, but some of us actives have
to be present at any time to keep being hard on the pledges. Ready for bed?"

"Yeah."

"Not as ready as I am." From her tone, she was ready for sleep, which
wasn't the first thing he connected with 'bed' these days. Well, she'd
promised to sleep in his arms. Tonight she would. He put away his books and
joined her in bed. He cuddled her and kissed the back of her head. "Andy?"
she asked. Did she think he was some sort of rapist?

"Hush. You're tired. Sleep in my arms."

"You are the nicest guy, ever."

"I love you." And, held in his love, she soon slept.

Their shower the next morning was even quicker than the one Sunday had
been. She dropped him off for class. She had the car MWF, and the weather
was bad enough that he preferred getting there an hour earlier to walking.
He walked home for lunch, though, and made his own PBJs. She did her own
shopping on the way home. She made them hamburgers. Those always reminded
him of the first meal that she'd cooked for him -- and the wonderful
afternoon that had preceded it. Since her mother had put her through hell
soon afterwards, her memories were probably not as pleasant as his. So he
didn't mention his. She was behind in studies, and so -- although he hadn't
anything to do for his classes except read ahead -- he didn't suggest
quitting until she was finished.

Once they were in bed, though, he took what he had been missing. He knew
she didn't have classes on Tuesdays. He kissed a path in very short steps
from her mouth to her breasts. He stayed there kissing her smooth softness
while his hand stroked her thighs and then her labia. He tried to time it
so his first suck on her nipple and first touch to her clitoris were
simultaneous. His timing was close enough that she hissed while he was
doing both. She writhed soon thereafter, and he watched and continued
stroking her clitoris until she stopped.

He kissed her forehead until she caught her breath. Then he kissed her
mouth and explored it with his tongue. He kissed down her torso until he
was between her legs. Then he kissed and licked her vulva. Twice she
writhed over the bed while he sucked her clitoris. When he went for
another, she pulled him up her body by his ears.

She was so warm and juicy when he sunk into her. She was so responsive when
he stroked in and out. When she clawed his butt, he lost any vestige of
control. He slammed into her and moved back only to slam into her again. He
pushed her up the mattress every time. When she writhed under him and
tightened around him, he thrust once more. That drove her inches up the
mattress while he poured his stored-up jism into her.

He fell onto her softness. It was minutes before he could gather the
strength to move off. He rolled to his side, gathered her into the spoon,
and got the covers over them both.

"Sorry," he told her. "I was a little out of control." Well, totally out of
control.

"You've been wonderful. I love you Andy." That was nice to hear, especially
after he'd been so rough.

"And I love you." He adored her. More than that he needed her. And, as they
both dozed off, he had her in his arms. In the shower the next morning, she
noticed his erection.

"Well, of course."

"Wasn't last night enough?"

"Once in the last two nights wasn't all that much." He didn't want to be
demanding; she might be tired still, but, after all, "You don't have
classes today, do you?"

"Okay, if you come in me soon. No making me climax again and again."

"But you're so lovely when you writhe.... Okay." So, he made certain that
she was far enough from the headboard that he wouldn't push her into it.
When she was tensing, he rose up her body. "Open for me, love." She spread
her legs and opened her labia with her fingers. He pressed into her warmth.
He was as deep as he could get when he kissed her hairline. He kept a
regular rhythm until she clasped around him and writhed under him. Then he
sped up. Nearly sated the night before, he managed to last through that. He
drove in and out more rapidly, and she responded almost immediately. He
held himself back until she clasped him again. Then he erupted.

He rested beside her for a minute, but he did have class, even if it was
later. He rinsed himself off in the shower, dried himself, and dressed. He
planned to leave her to get the sleep she probably still needed, but she
rose to share breakfast with him. He walked quickly and got to class just
as it was beginning.

When he got back, she'd made toasted-cheese sandwiches for lunch. "You
know," he told her, "I love these sandwiches. They remind me of you, all
crisp on the outside but warm and gooey and tasty on the inside."

"Can't you think of anything but sex?" Well, yes. He had paid attention to
the class, after all.

"Sure, but not when you're around. You're the sexiest woman alive."

She served Spanish Rice for supper and then went to the library. She stayed
until closing time. Work on learning was much more important than work on
the sorority, but he was afraid that she was overdoing the one after
stressing herself out on the other.

"Exhausted?" he asked when she came in.

"Exhilarated." And she looked it. In bed, she writhed enthusiastically
under his mouth. Then he entered her and took long, slow strokes. When she
writhed under him and around him, he had his own climax. She slept sweetly
cuddled against him.

They were getting close to finals, the first finals when they wouldn't be
apart. Of course, they couldn't be together quite so thoroughly and so
often as they had been for the previous part of the semester. Marilyn
insisted that she should have only two climaxes a night.

"Well, if that's what you need for your studies..." he said. "But after
finals, we'll have an orgy?"

"An orgy requires more than two people." The English teacher looked like
he'd got the question wrong. His wife looked fond of him. The two
expressions were combined on one face.

"A mini-orgy then?"

"Andy, you're impossible.... Well, okay, we'll have a mini-orgy when both
of us are done with our last exams."

Although First Urbana held a few professors, the church took little notice
of the university schedule. They scheduled a potluck for the Sunday before
prep week. Well, that might suit the professors just fine -- their work
really began after finals. Marilyn made a great deal of greens. He expected
to eat left-overs for the next two weeks, but most of them were taken. He
wasn't the only one who liked her cooking.

His last exam, Intermediate Circuit Design, got out two hours before
Marilyn's last exam did. He picked her up in the car and drove her home.
She fixed tuna salad for lunch and then Spanish rice for supper. He watched
her cook until she was done. Then he got up and kissed the top of her head.

"It's mini-orgy time," he said. She laughed.

"Let me get out of this apron." He took the apron when she handed it to
him; then he helped remove blouse and bra.

"How long 'til dinner?" he asked while she was removing her shoes and jeans.

"Two hours. Is that long enough for a mini orgy?" No way! But they could
have an intermission.

"Nah. But we can take a break." He took her to bed and kissed her mouth,
her face, and her torso. When he got between her legs, he tasted her. She
writhed under his mouth six times. He thought that this began to make up
for his serious deprivation over the last week and a half. He lay down
beside her and cuddled her during the fifteen or so minutes until the timer
rang.

"I'm not sure I can get up," she said. Well, there was a solution to that.

"Want breakfast in bed?" Not what he meant at this time of day. "Well,
dinner in bed?"

"No." She got up and disappeared into the bathroom. When she came out, she
was covered by her robe. They had dinner. Her cooking was delicious, as
usual. When she was quite finished, he took the dishes to the sink. Well,
they were still on break.

"Want to go up noon tomorrow?" he asked her. She did. "Want to pack now?"
She probably needed some time to digest. Besides, he didn't want to stop
later or have to think about saving up energy for that task.

"What happened to your mini-orgy?" she asked.

"We're taking a break. I figured you didn't want my weight on your belly
just now." They packed their suitcases. They had a good deal of common
property, but they used separate luggage. When she was done, they went back
to bed.

He took his time; it wasn't eight p. m. yet, and the train was at noon. She
was quite cooperative about turning on her face so he could kiss her back
and the backs of her legs. When she turned over, he kissed up the inside of
one of her legs in slow stages. She was already wet when he reached her
labia. Soon after that, she writhed for him. He got his fingers in to reach
her G-spot, and alternated between having her writhe by rubbing that and by
licking her clitoris. He lay with his head on her thighs to let her relax
from one of those. When she seemed to be recovered, he started kissing
where he was. She shoved him away.

"Andy," she said, "even a mini-orgy requires *two* people." Rising to his
knees, he pointed at her and then at himself, raising a finger for each.
"Yeah. But your participation is too distant. Come here." Well, it was nice
to be wanted.

"I love you." He stopped only a minute to pay tribute to her breasts. When
he was near, she opened her labia and led him between them. She was so warm
around the head of his cock. "Oh, darling."  She was so smooth as he slid
into her. "Loooove!" She was so welcoming as she clasped all of his cock.
"So warm, so slick, so you!" He kissed her hairline.

"So hard," she said, "so hot, so full." She responded to every stroke, and
her expression turned from loving, to worried, to pained. She grimaced as
she clasped around him and writhed under him. He could hold off for only
one more stoke then he erupted deep inside her.

"Love!" He lay on her softness and his elbows until he could regain his
strength. When he could move off, he scooped her against him. "Oh, darling.
Lovely... You are so sweet." He kissed her hair and then tasted her ear.
"Sweet outside and sweet inside... The sweetest girl in the whole world."

"If you enjoy it so much, why do you resist me?" she asked. He hadn't been
resisting. He had been delaying -- increasing one pleasure by putting off
the enjoyment of another.

"I don't really resist. It's just that you look so beautiful like that.
And, you'll notice, that when I come in you it's over. Would you let me?"
He moved his hand down her torso towards her vulva. She stopped him before
he reached her navel. "See?" But it was a smooth, sexy belly. He caressed
it before returning to her breast. Even there, he knew that her nipple was
off limits just then.

"You like cuddling?" she asked. Hadn't she noticed?

"I like cuddling; I like watching you cook or study. Sometimes you're even
more beautiful than then. I figure that I'll take all of you that I can
get." And while how much he could get had certainly increased over the last
three years, that had been his decision for the entire time.

"And if you take so much of me that I can't get up in the morning?" Well,
he'd offered her dinner in bed, and she had refused. She was already packed.

"I'll get you to the station. You could sleep on the train."

"You're a weird guy, Andy." Well, in general, he could accept that. Either
he was out of step or all the others were. There was nothing weird,
however, about his previous statement. She'd raised a problem, and he'd
offered a solution.

"Well, you married me knowing that." He let her think about that, and she
was certainly thinking about something. "And I love you." That was really
the bottom line.

"I love you, too."

She started the shower when she had her bathroom time after his. That was
her usual signal that she wasn't coming back to bed. She very seldom did,
but they didn't have anything to do that day before they left for the train
station. She didn't soap up before he joined her, though. He soaped her
thoroughly, and she soaped him after rinsing off. He patted her dry. She
got dressed before cooking breakfast, though. He washed dishes after
breakfast so the dishes after lunch would go faster.

They got to the station in plenty of time. Some of the girls from Zeta were
there, and they were nice to him. Really, it was the organization, not its
members, that he resented. They got on the same car and sat in clumps.

Dad was at the station. He gave him an early Christmas present of a carrier
for their luggage. He wheeled all of it to the car. He sat in the back with
Marilyn while Dad drove.

"I hope you don't mind, Marilyn," Dad said, "but I sort of divided up your
time with your parents."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere without Andy." The girl still loved him.

"Not anything like that. It's just that we thought that you both would
enjoy being with your family for the tree ceremony. So I scheduled the one
at my house for a different time. I accepted an invitation to their New
Years Eve party as well. I'm sure you'll get one."

Later on, Dad asked the usual question about grades. It was still too early
to tell, but he always asked too early to tell.

"I didn't see any huge gaps on the tests," he said. "Of course, if it was a
real gap, I wouldn't have seen it." Only when Marilyn began to speak did he
realize that he should have deferred to her.

"My finals mostly went okay," she said. "Of course, my grades depend on
papers much more than Andy's do. And one class is a real question mark. I
did class observation. How do you grade someone's observing a class. The
exam was in two parts. The first was totally objective, who? when? where?
what subject? The second part was six mini-essays. What had I seen with
each teacher that I would try to emulate? What had I seen with each teacher
that I would try to avoid? The paper wasn't much better -- a summary of my
time spent observing. And those were almost all the grade. I think 10% was
showing up; I got that 10%. What the rest of my grade is, your guess is as
good as mine."

"And the other three classes?"

"All feel between an A and a B. Maybe an A is likelier in English Pedagogy.
Maybe a B is likelier in Current American Novels. That could slide to a C
if he really dislikes my paper." Marilyn was telling Dad more than she'd
told him. Well, he'd actually asked only about the exams. She'd told him
about the papers as she wrote them.

"And what will your four classes be next semester?" Well, Dad was out of
the loop about that. He stopped in the driveway, and Andy got out and went
around to open Marilyn's door. She answered the question before she got
out, though.

"Well, for one thing, they'll be only one class." When she was out, he went
for the luggage. The wheel-thing would be a hindrance on stairs, and he
decided to make two trips upstairs. When he'd got the bags upstairs and his
unpacked, he went down. They were in the kitchen, which reminded him of
food.

"Snack?" he asked.

"Pizza?" Dad suggested instead. That was fair enough.

Marilyn's family had the tree early on Christmas morning. Dad scheduled
theirs for Christmas night. Aside from the luggage carrier and the tickets,
Dad's gifts to him were the magazine subscriptions. He gave Marilyn some
cooking tools and Andy gave her some cologne of the kind she used. The
girls sent them a gift apiece. Mom sent *them* a cookbook. He'd never
credited Mom with sensitivity, but she had acknowledged that they were a
couple in a way that the girls hadn't.

One Sunday, Dad led them down the aisle to sit with Marilyn's family. They
made them welcome -- made him welcome, and Marilyn looked happy. If she was
happy, it had been the right thing to do.

They went to a New Year's Eve party at her parents'. He didn't recognize
most of the other guests. Well, your first choice among your friends to
invite to a drinking party probably weren't the people you knew from a
Methodist church. Some of the women said they had been at the wedding. One
of the guys worked under Marilyn's father. Maybe he could answer a question
Andy had had for months.

"What's 'tear weight?' What do you tear?" The guy laughed.

"It's T A R E. Tare weight of a box car is the weight of the car empty.
It's also used be people to deal with the weight of the shipping
containers. Basically tare weight is the difference between gross weight
and net weight. Now, how did that come up? Obviously, you heard it instead
of reading it."

"Well, I was in a conversation with Mr. Grant. I said that his occupation
would have words I didn't understand. He said 'tare weight.' He was right.
I didn't understand it."

"You planning to go into the freight business?"

"God no. Sorry, I know that you did. I'm in my last year of studying
Electrical Engineering. Still, you want to know things."

"Well, if you don't go into the shipping side of that, you don't have to
know about tare weight." Well, he didn't *have* to know about it; he wanted
to know.

That night, they got back very late, but Marilyn didn't look too tired.  He
kissed her all over before getting to her labia. Even then, she was slower
than usual to rouse. When she finally writhed for him, though, she writhed
beautifully and enthusiastically.

"Andy," she said when he tried for another, "in me. Now!" Well, Dad had
probably drunk enough that he would be sleeping deeply. They weren't likely
to have been heard. He tried to hold back as he stroked in her. He
couldn't, and she didn't seem to climax that time. Soon she was asleep in
his arms. The next morning, though, she looked grouchy.

"That was statutory rape, you know," she said. What was? "You had your way
with me last night when I wasn't in shape to give consent." That sounded to
him like a far stretch.

"Well, I actually think you gave consent at the altar. Anyway, if you
weren't sober enough to give permission, you were sober enough to ask me to
come in."

She didn't look convinced. She didn't look happy with him, either. She
didn't say anything more, though. After she fixed coffee and took two
aspirins, they had cereal for breakfast. Dad came in and joined them.

"Are we going to church?" he asked. That seemed the right way to start off
the new year, but Marilyn took the longest time deciding. She nodded,
though, and they went.

When his grades came in, she called her family to ask whether hers had. Her
Dad opened the letter, although he offered to go over to get it. She'd
received only one B. That would put her on Dean's List. He'd got all A s.
But, then, it had been all engineering courses, he wasn't taking even a
math course.

They -- including Dad -- went to visit her family for dinner shortly before
leaving for campus. He mentioned her being on Dean's List.

"My father told me when I was learning to drive," her Dad said, "that a guy
who could drive a car around a corner while kissing a girl wasn't paying
enough attention to the kiss." That presumably meant that he wasn't paying
enough attention to Marilyn.

"Well," he said, "we study together."

"It seems to have done you more good than it did Marilyn. You, as she tells
us constantly, got nothing but A s."

"Marilyn has a double major, which may be more difficult." He took a second
to put his thoughts in order. "And I have more time to study. She still has
duties at Zeta. Then too, she cooks and I clean. That's not really fair
because cooking takes much more time." Of course, she knew how to cook.
Teaching him a recipe would take more time than her cooking it did.

"It sounds unfair to me, too," her mother said. "I thought you were an
ardent feminist, Marilyn. Marriage should be an equal partnership."

"Well, we have food for me to cook because Andy worked five summers, but I
didn't." That was horrible. Was she assigning duties based on some such
calculation?

"Marilyn. You didn't count that when you divided up the chores, did you?"

"No, darling," she answered. That was a relief. He noticed, too, that her
words for him were much more romantic when her parents were listening. "I'm
just pointing out to Mom that there isn't any such thing between two people
as an equal partnership. We don't have a deal; we have a marriage. We have
a common pot of your gifts and my gifts. I didn't work for five summers. If
I had, I wouldn't have saved almost all my earnings...."

"You wouldn't have saved a penny," her dad interrupted. She was a married
woman and a guest in their home, but they still treated her like a
daughter, an errant daughter.

"But I learned to cook and you didn't. When we came together, we put all
that into the pot." She'd been looking at him when she said that, but then
she turned to her parents. "Actually, Mom, as Andy said, I divide up the
household chores. Maybe you don't approve of my division, but I don't owe
you any explanation of why I did them that way. I don't see Dad cooking all
that much, and he's had way more time to learn than Andy has."

"Well, I do a good barbecue, if I say so myself," her father said.

"And, maybe four times a year, you do," Marilyn said. "Usually eaten with
salad and corn-on-the-cob which you don't cook. Notice that I'm not
complaining about that division of labor. I'm no longer part of the family,
and no longer have the right to comment on it. That's your marriage, and
how *you two* divide your tasks is none of my damn business. I'm just
asking for the same respect."

"Really Marilyn. I go to the office 40 hours a week. I thought you had
planned for a different kind of marriage."

"We do. And whose idea is that? If, right now, I suggested to Andy that he
take the responsibility for supporting us while I would be a housewife, he
would agree." Drop her education now? They'd fought about that problem
already.

"Not before you get your degree," he said.

"See! You can tell where Andy's priorities are. Andy said that it was
unfair that I spend more time cooking than he spends cleaning. Andy said
that I shouldn't consider the time he spent working before our marriage in
allotting chores. Andy said that he doesn't want me to drop out." She was
looking directly at her mother while she said all that.

"And don't worry, Andy, I was talking a wild hypothetical," she said to
him.

"But everything he said was taking care of me. You may think, Mom, that
you're protecting me against his imposing on me. Actually, there's one
person at this table whom *I* see as imposing on me, and it ain't Andy."

The girl loved him, and he was grateful for that. He did think, however,
that she had over-reacted. Maybe she thought that, too.

"I'm afraid that there was a little unfinished business there," she said on
the way back. It was a nasty, slushy day, and Dad had driven.

"Well," Dad said, "as a parent myself, I can understand. Your daughter is
in the midst of declaring her independence, and then she declares her
interdependence with someone else."

"They just have to understand that Andy and I are a family now." That was
wonderful to hear, especially wonderful to hear her say it unsolicited.

"Say that again."

And she did. "Andy and I are a family now."


The end
Sharing - M
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2012/04/30


These same events from Marilyn's perspective, can be read in:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_11f.htm
Marilyn's experience

The first adventures of Andy with Marilyn:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_01m.htm
"The Meeting - M"

Another story about another man beginning a much different marriage:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/wal_03m.htm
"Domesticity"

The index to almost all my stories:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/index.htm
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