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Message-ID: <62156asstr$1335946201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Sharing - F" -- MF wl -- Uther
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Date: Wed, 02 May 2012 04:10:01 -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 - F
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com

MF wl


In August of '77, Marilyn Trainor had all her classes Monday, Wednesday,
and Friday. The two English classes were in the morning and the two
education classes in the afternoon. That allowed her to come home to fix
lunch in between. Andy still had two classes TTS, and that allowed her some
time to herself at home. Sharing was all very well, but she found that she
needed time by herself, too.

She fulfilled her duties as a member of Zeta Tau Gamma but shared in fewer
of the pleasures that the sorority had provided her the first three years.
That meant that she spent evenings of rush week in the house, but her
schedule allowed her to both cook and study on the days she didn't have
class.

Finally, the rush was over, and they were choosing whom to invite to join
-- their bids. They'd seen more girls than they had on either of the
previous two years, and it seemed to Marilyn that more of them were
desirable. Not everyone agreed, at least on details.

"This Jessica looks like a Zate," Patricia said, "and her personality is
all right, but she says she plans to major in civil engineering. Seems to
me we saw a lot of girls wanting to be engineers this year. I'm afraid that
will turn boys off."

"I don't think so," Christine said. "I was Vickie's roommate last year, and
she talked -- maybe more than she should have. Anyway, some of us were
problems when she was scheduling house dates, but Kathy never was. Look,
maybe when he gets to know her the guy discovers she has a brain and that
scares him off, but all the frat social chair sees is her looks. Brains are
hidden; boobs push out your blouse. House dates are no problem; where
engineering majors will have problems is in interesting guys personally."

"And," Kathy said, "if a woman takes courses in the hard sciences, she has
no problems meeting guys. I thought some classes last year showed an
imbalance, but you should see my Chem 201 class. If I ever get tired of
Ron, I'll just hang a sign on the back of my seat in the lecture hall: 'I'm
unattached, *and* I know what a valence is."

"Too bad you can't pass your rejects along." Robin was between boyfriends
and was always saying that she'd been that way far too long.

"Back," Gail said, "to Jessica." They bid on Jessica and on two other girls
planning on going into engineering. They ended up bidding on 41 rushees,
one more than the previous year. Still, Marilyn thought that they'd been
more selective than they had the previous year. She'd thought that the
previous year, however.

They had, Gail reported at a later chapter meeting, 18 acceptances.

"It looks to me," Peggy said, "like both Marilyn and Janet were right back
when we discussed gyving more rooms to freshmen. We'll just scrape by with
6 freshmen per room, but we -- you guys -- will be cramped the next few
years. The next rush will have to be more exacting. You'll have to raise
the standards much higher than the ones which let me in." Peggy was being
self-deprecating, but there was a grain of truth in her statement. Every
one of the rushees on which they'd bid this year was prettier than Peggy
was. But they'd have lost so much if they hadn't pledged her!

With her duties to Zeta less onerous, Marilyn looked around. She was living
in married student housing, now, and that was a community, too. At least it
should be. It wasn't her and Andy's community, yet. More than half of the
families were grad students. Many of those were men with wives working
instead of couples in school. They had small social groups among
themselves, based on fields of study or the age of kids. She met some other
married undergraduate women, with a bit of effort.

When one of them looked like good company, she invited her and her husband
to dinner. She fixed chili. Mrs. Bryant's chili recipe made a lot, and it
didn't divide very well; she'd tried that. Mark and Nancy were both in
physics, and they got along fine with Andy. Considering the size of their
kitchen table, one couple was all the company they could handle.

She had Andy figure out how many weeks they had left before graduation and
then divide that into what remained of their food budget after the few
groceries and the vacuum cleaner they'd bought. The vacuum was one hell of
a grocery, but they had needed it, and it didn't go in the budget anywhere
else. The answer to the division was their weekly food allowance. They were
spending well less than that on grocery shopping. She thought, but wasn't
sure, that they were consuming less than that. The generous care package
that Mrs. Bryant had sent off with Andy had to be factored in. Then, too,
their -- okay, her -- original food budget had covered the summer, too.
They were far from wealthy, but they were less straitened than she had
expected.

They became associate members of First UMC Urbana. They'd been attending
for close to two years, but the formal action fitted being a married
couple. When the church had a potluck, they contributed. She heard praise
for her spaghetti. More than that, she saw it disappear from the serving
table as seconds. She'd cooked more than they ate, even counting Andy's
appetite. She was afraid she would need to scrimp the rest of the week, but
the acceptance of her as a cook and housewife by the congregation's
community of housewives compensated.

That Sunday was an exception to their pattern, though. Usually, she and
Andy returned to their apartment to eat lunch rather than Sunday dinner.
Then she drove to Zeta House for the chapter meeting. They had a larger
meal after she got home.

One Sunday was another exception. She dropped Andy off at the apartment and
went to Zeta House for dinner as a guest of the chapter.

"Nobody needs to be introduced to Marilyn," Peggy began. Then she spent
several minutes in telling them what she'd said they already knew. If they
hadn't known her, Marilyn mused, it would have sounded impressive. "Now,
Marilyn," she finished, "everybody is dying to know. What is married life
like?"

Marilyn projected her voice like her chorus teacher had taught her. There
were more than 50 women in the room. "Are you interested in how we divide
the household chores?" She paused. "Our budget?" She paused again. "Oh,
*that*'s the part of married life you're interested in." They laughed. "Bar
the door?" She looked at Margot, the new chaplain.

"For the new pledges, when I say 'bar the door,' it means that what you
hear is subject to the same secrecy rules as a chapter meeting. Bar the
door!"

"Sleeping together," Marilyn began again. "You'll hear rumors that one
couple or another is sleeping together. Well, they may be having sex, but
most of them aren't actually sleeping together, and that means that they're
missing something. The act lasts only so long. You can prolong it, he can,
and it's great when you both do. Still, it lasts only a tiny fraction of
the day. The cuddling afterwards, however, can last the whole night
through. And it's great. Living with a guy, spending the night with a guy
-- at least my guy -- is like eating a cake with icing as opposed to eating
a couple of spoonfuls of icing.

"Surprises on my honeymoon. Until I lived with Andy, I'd never seen him
with a five-o'clock shadow." Of course, she'd actually spent two different
weeks with him before the wedding, but the women who were aware of that
weren't going to be picky in public. "It turns out that he'd always
showered and shaved just before coming to pick me up. Now, Andy's good, but
you can't expect a guy to shave again and again just because you're both in
the same house all the time.

"Insatiable. Back when we were only seeing each other occasionally, Andy
wanted sex all the time. He accepted that we couldn't have it some times,
that we were going to a dance or something. I still knew that he wanted it.
Now, understand me, I wasn't exactly resisting him. Still, without anything
else really on the schedule, I was a little apprehensive about what the
typical honeymoon day was going to be like. Well, the typical day ended in
lovemaking, but it wasn't filled with it. It turns out that my guy was
quite satiable. He only seemed insatiable when he hadn't had the
opportunities.

"Dullness. There is this picture out there that lovers do it swinging from
the chandelier and married couples only use one position. Well, that's not
my experience. First of all, I've not only never swung from a chandelier,
even by myself, I've never even made love in a room which included a
chandelier. But that's off the topic. When you're on a date, the sex has to
be perfect, or -- at least -- so good that you both want to come back. That
means that you -- and he -- instinctively avoid anything that looks chancy
or hard to bring off.

"In marriage, you're going to make love the next night, too. Try something
new, and it may go great; it may not. If it doesn't, do you think you need
practice, or do you think it's a bad idea for you? If it was a bad idea for
you, you go back to something which has worked for you the next night. The
occasional experiment which leads to failure is no big deal. On another
topic, when you experiment with a new recipe and it doesn't come off, your
husband shrugs. If it's the first meal you serve your date, he might decide
you can't cook.

"So married love involves experiment. Not every night, not most nights --
truth to tell, the oldest position is still loads of fun. But when you get
the urge for something new, and when you get the time, then you can try
something new. If it doesn't please, you have the next night. For that
matter, if it really fails, you have the same night. Y'know, the sex books
are full of positions where both of you are standing on the floor. Somehow,
I don't have anywhere for him to put it here." She tapped her stomach right
under her breasts. Many of them laughed. "Anyhow, the problem with some
positions they list in the books is that you can't do anything while you're
laughing that hard.

"Getting back to sleeping together. Undressing used to be such a big deal.
How do you get pantyhose off in the back seat of a car? Well, now, I just
undress for bed like I used to do in the house. I'll admit that I don't put
on as much before getting into bed as I did last year. I lie down on my
side of the bed; he lies down on the other side. Then, we might come
together. But there is no having the elastic on your good panties stretched
out of shape, no bra strap chafing your armpit.

"And, of course, there's the privacy. If there's a knock on your door, you
might check that you're both dressed to be seen. If you aren't, you just
don't answer the door. It's that simple. In married student housing, they
have rules against playing music too loudly. They don't have rules against
making too much noise in bed. I can no longer remember how I managed to
soap my own back in the shower when I lived here.

"Being married has its problems, being a married student especially.
Hamburger is no longer something you eat in a bun and -- if you're still
hungry -- eat another one in another bun. Hamburger is now a garnish I add
to the main meal to pretend that it isn't meatless. Being married has its
problems, but all the problems get trivialized when the lights go out.

"I'll warn you, though, that my report on married life is a report on being
married to Andy, and *no you can't* have him. Thank you."

They all applauded.

Despite her responsibilities, she got lots of studying done. Andy's life,
besides sex and making out with her, was studying. She limited him, and the
limit he would accept most readily was that she had to study. One type of
school event that they still attended was the all-university dances which
were held occasionally.

Late at one of these, they were sitting at a table taking a rest. The last
dance was always a slow one, and they wanted to feel romantic on that dance
instead of tired. While they were talking, Trish came up.

"Marilyn, can I beg a ride home?" Her eyes were red, and her mascara was
beginning to run again from her tears. Andy got up immediately.

"Three Cokes?" he asked.

"Yeah, and don't hurry." She turned to Trish. "Something wrong with Ted?"

"You know he was working on a novel?" She nodded. He'd been working on it
for more than a year, and nobody could see it, not even Trish. "Well, he's
finished it. We were sitting with Murph, his best friend in the frat, and
Lyssa -- to esses and a wye -- Murph's girl.

"Anyway, I was begging to be allowed to read his book. He was saying that
it was only a first draft. Well, I knew that: I didn't want to read it to
correct his grammar. I got the feeling Murph had read the thing. I don't
know why; it was just a feeling. Then Lyssa got up to go to the ladies' and
gave me the signal. We went in together.

"Seems Murph has read the book. It's the story of a guy named Ed who is
having a long affair with a girl named Patty." Since Trish was Patricia on
her school records, this might have been too revealing to be comfortable.

"No wonder he doesn't want you to read it." Still, couldn't he change the
name?

"That's nothing. Ed cheats on Patty -- has other affairs. One of them is
with a girl named Alyss -- to esses and a wye. Murph challenged Lyssa,
which is how she learned all this, but she persuaded him that although Ted
had come on to her, she'd turned him down. Anyway, the book ends with Ed
graduating and riding off into the sunset, leaving Patty sobbing behind.
This was Lyssa's report of Murph's report of the book. So the book must
include some fiction, since Ted hasn't graduated yet.

"I went back to the table, and asked Murph if he'd read the book. He can't
lie worth shit. Then I demanded that Ted let me read it. He gave the same
lame excuses, and I asked if he was planning to dump me. Anyway, I ended up
dumping him. But he dreamed of dumping me. If he didn't cheat on me, and
I'm not sure about Lyssa and don't even know the other girls' pseudonyms,
let alone their real names, he damn-well dreamed of having sex with them.
More than that, he used me. I thought we had a romance. I was his research
subject!" At this she cried harder. Marilyn patted her hand.

Trish had nearly stopped crying when Robin came up to the table and sat
down.

"Marilyn, could Andy give me a ride home?" That Andy would when a sister
had an emergency had been pretty well established. So had the rule that
they asked Marilyn and she asked Andy. He was perfectly happy to do
something that simple for *her*; he didn't think he owed Zeta anything.
"Trish, what's wrong?" Robin had been slow to notice.

"She had a fight with Ted." After all, this was a years-long relationship.
It might get patched up. Even if it wouldn't be, the story was Trish's. If
she wanted to tell Robin, let her decide to do so.

"Oh, Trish, I'm so sorry. My problem is nothing to compare with that. My
date messed up, but it wasn't a romance."

"Neither, it turns out, was mine. I was being used. He was screwing me
while he screwed me." Andy was standing well out of hearing range holding
three Cokes and looking a question at her. The last dance was about to
begin. Marilyn gestured him forward. He passed a Coke each to her and to
Trish before sitting down. Then he gave Robin the last one.

"Thanks, Andy. You're the nicest guy."

"That's for damn sure," said Trish. "Marilyn that was the most selfish
thing you could have said."

"What?" She'd just offered Trish a shoulder to cry on and a ride home. She
was missing the last dance of the night -- something special for her and
Andy -- rather than leave Trish with Robin. This was selfish?

"That we couldn't have him." Oh, yes, back in her report on marriage.

"Are we ready to go?" she asked.

"I'll get the car." Andy said. As the last dance was still playing, few
people were leaving. He could get the car close to the door. Robin and
Trish, knowing his reputation, waited in the doorway until he walked the
three of them to the car.

"Well," Robin said from the back seat, "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?"

"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." Well, for Andy, that observation counted
as sensitivity.

"Andy!" she 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." When they got to the house, he walked the two from the back seat to
the door. Then he came back to her.

"Sorry about the last dance," she said.

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

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

"I suppose." He was silent while they drove home and climbed the stairs.
"Do you have any space in the food budget?"

"Yeah. We've been below it every week." And some of that had been
difficult. But she was damned proud. Like Andy as a hardware clerk, she
wasn't a housewife, but -- when she had to be -- she was a good one.

"Even with guests?"

"We haven't had that many 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."

"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." And it meant feeding
them better. Well, no it didn't. If her recipes from Mrs. Bryant were good
enough for her family, they were good enough for her guests. If the couple
clicked, they'd have no reason to complain about the menu. If they didn't,
the extra quantity of food was enough investment in a failed experiment;
she didn't have to invest in a higher quality, too.

Because of Robin's class schedule, Andy's 10:00 a. m. class made the most
sense, though Robin expressed cheerful willingness to cut classes to see
the guys. Marilyn decided not to tell Andy that. He would have been
horrified. Andy took a seat in class so he could get out first on Tuesday.
She and Robin were standing with him as the others came out. She and Andy
were side by side while Robin held both their arms in her hands. When she
squeezed, Andy noted the guy. Afterwards, they tried to get clear which of
the ones coming out when she squeezed was her actual choice.

She'd been impressed with three, which made Marilyn think she was getting
desperate. There hadn't been more than 20 boys in the class apart from Andy.

Robin's first choice had been Dave, and Andy invited him to dinner the next
Tuesday. Andy introduced Dave to her, and she introduced Robin to Dave and
Andy. Andy, of course, knew Robin, but she wasn't going to explain all
that. They had chili-mac. She'd got into the habit of making all of Mrs.
Bryant's recipe when she made chili, then she reused the left-over chili
over maccaroni. Even so, they had a lot of chili-mac left in the pot when
the four of them had done eating. Dessert was ice cream, one concession to
having guests.

Dave and Robin got along well until Dave mentioned his girl friend. Even
so, they parted civilly. Dave thanked her for a great home-cooked meal, and
he offered Robin a ride home.

Bill, the next Tuesday, paid more attention to her than to Robin. She
served Spanish rice and greens. Greens was another recipe that didn't work
well in half quantities. Andy would eat them as left-overs; when he'd eat
something, he'd eat it three days running -- maybe seven days running.
However, her own tolerance ended at the second meal, and her conscience
wouldn't let her feed Andy left-overs while she ate something newly cooked.
That made it perfect for guests. It would be eaten faster. Robin picked
politely at her first serving of greens, but left half of it on her plate.
Bill, on the contrary went back for seconds.

"You didn't learn to cook like this in Chicago," he drawled.

"Evanston."

"That's even further north," Andy added.

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

"I shouldn't." Yes, he should. And, in fact, he did. He offered to walk
Robin home, which sealed her decision to go no further with him. Robin
wanted a guy with a car.

When Robin had heard the name Warren, she dropped him to the bottom of the
list, but after a guy whom she'd met on a house date had taken her to a
rock concert and then tried to remove her panties on what was the second
date at best, she wanted to try him. The pause had left Marilyn with a
couple of weeks without guests.

Warren thought that Robin was a charming name. He thought that she was a
charming woman, for that matter. He not only drove her home but asked if he
could see her again.

"Marilyn, you are wonderful!" Robin said over the phone.

Trish had heard about this process, and was ready to get back into the game.

"Anything is better than another English major." And since Trish was an
senior English major, her own classes didn't offer any prospects. She tried
the same scheme Robin had, but with Andy's 1:00 o'clock class. She saw two
guys she thought likely, but one of them was Warren.

"No can do," Andy said. "My excuse is that Marilyn wants to do some
entertaining. I can't invite the same guy twice with two different women."
He was right, although she suspected that the guys he'd invited had already
seen through their ploy. What were they going to do, walk out because
they'd been invited there to meet a pretty woman? Anyway, Warren was
Robin's until they broke up.

Trish's other choice, which she insisted was really her first choice, was
Barry. Barry and Trish were their guests for dinner the last Tuesday before
Hell Week. Barry drove Trish home and asked for her phone number.

The next day's mail brought a letter from Jim Trainor. He included two
round-trip tickets to Chicago.

"Please come home for Christmas," he wrote. They'd wanted to to, and his
tickets made it cheaper to do so than to stay on campus and feed themselves.

She negotiated with Gail the times she could give for Hell Week. She did
her homework and cooking during the off days. She ate supper at Zeta house,
and Andy ate the same food for two suppers running and for lunch in
between. He didn't complain about that so long as she was back by 10:30 p.
m. Let the other actives take turns waking the pledges in the middle of the
night; Marilyn had promised to spend every night in Andy's arms. She came
out of Hell Week nearly caught up on her class work and not that far behind
on her sleep.

She even made church on the last day. She dropped Andy at the apartment and
went to dinner at the house. After dinner came the chapter meeting when
they initiated the new pledges. She crept into the apartment at 11:15. Andy
was still at the table studying.

"Long day?" he asked.

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

"You sure that it's harder on the pledges?"

"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." She stripped and got into her side. Andy turned on
his lamp, got out of his clothes, turned off the overhead light, and got
into bed beside her. After he turned off his lamp, he took her in his arms.
He kissed the back of her head, but didn't make any sexy moves. "Andy?"

"Hush. You're tired. Sleep in my arms." Which meant that he didn't expect
any sex that night. She really didn't feel able, but she didn't feel she
had the strength to refuse him, either.

"You are the nicest guy, ever."

"I love you." And she knew he did. Her thoughts had been churning an hour
ago, and she'd doubted that she could fall asleep. In his arms she found
peace and -- quite soon -- deep sleep.

That sleep had been needed not only because of the past but because of the
next day. Four classes on the same day could be a little rough when you
were barely prepared for any of them. She survived, though, and bought buns
and hamburger meat on the way home. They had hamburgers for supper, but
she'd be able to spend little enough in the rest of the week to make up for
it.

That night, he stroked and licked her to three climaxes before he entered
her. Then he was driving in and out until she was pushed to the top of the
bed. He groaned when he pulsed deep inside her, and that pulsing brought a
climax from her. He collapsed over her and took a long time to move off.

"Sorry," he said. "I was a little out of control."

"You've been wonderful. I love you Andy." He'd been so thoughtful while she
was busy and later while she was exhausted. He'd lost control tonight, but
he hadn't hurt her. Okay, she'd ended up in a position which wasn't too
comfortable, but she had been too busy enjoying herself to notice. Why
should she expect him to notice? And, as she'd said years back, making
*Andy* lose control was an accomplishment.

"And I love you."

The next morning, he wanted to make love again. She didn't have any
classes, and his first was at 10:00.

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

"But you're so lovely when you writhe.... Okay." And he did come into her
before her climax -- right before. It was one of the few times that he was
in her during one of her climaxes that he didn't participate. Then he
brought her another in which he joined her.

After she set him off to class, she boiled rice for that day and cooked the
beans in preparation for making baked beans for Wednesday. She got her
homework done, but much of it was while the meals were cooking. She made
toasted-cheese sandwiches for lunch.

"You know," he said, "I love these sandwiches. They remind me of you, all
crisp on the outside but warm and gooey and tasty on the inside." She'd
heard that before.

"Can't you think of anything but sex?"

"Sure, but not when you're around. You're the sexiest woman alive." That
wasn't true. She wasn't anywhere near as sexy as Robin was, for example. On
the other hand, it was nice that Andy thought so -- except when it was
annoying when he thought so. Well, until they invented a switch, she'd take
a turned-on husband over a turned-off one.

He went off to his afternoon class, walking although the weather was nasty.
Andy seemed to feel that the car was necessary to shield her from the
weather but not to shield him.

She finished up her Wednesday assignments and caught up on her reading
before finishing preparing the Spanish rice just before he got home. She
had papers to write, and she drove to the library after supper. She left
the library at closing. When she got home, he closed his books and cleaned
them off the table.

"Exhausted?" he asked.

"Exhilarated." And she was. She might just get an A in English Pedagogy
with this paper -- providing, of course, that she wrote it as well as it
felt in her head. Andy, always glad to cooperate in that way, had her
exhilarated again before she fell asleep in his arms.

They had learned to share a fast shower, harder and less fun than sharing a
slow one, and he dropped her at her first class before heading over to his.

This was crunch time, but a little less bad than previous years. She had
caught up much faster, and Andy kept study discipline better than any
previous roommate had. He took to vacuuming while she was at chapter
meeting. She did have to limit the number of climaxes he brought her. After
one night when he'd gone way out, she'd felt like she had only half a mind
the entire next day. Two climaxes a night was the limit she set.

"But after finals, we'll have an orgy?" She laughed at his question.

"An orgy requires more than two people."

"A mini-orgy then?" And they'd scheduled a mini-orgy for after finals.
Actually, two climaxes a night and sleeping in his arms was great for her
mental health. She could cook and study all day knowing that she'd have a
brief period of ecstasy that evening followed by eight hours of
contentment. And if she was asleep most of the time he was holding her, she
was still contented.

Scheduled sex was something she knew she could never explain to her
sisters. Sex was something which was supposed to catch you by surprise; you
would get carried away. Still and all, they knew that they would park after
a dance, same as she'd known the same thing. The truth was that she and
Andy could have passion any time they were free; the schedule was a
schedule for all the other claims on their lives.

She cooked a pot of greens for the next church potluck. A meal had to have
veggies, too, and most women brought main dishes or desserts. The customers
for greens were a selective group, but those were enthusiastic. And greens
were, really, cheap to cook. The pork bits weighed a quarter of a pound --
less than the meat they'd use for any meal.

She got her papers in on time. She and Andy spent prep week across the
kitchen table from each other. She felt good about the semester's classes.
Any of them were a good paper and a good final away from an A, although in
one case that would require a very good paper *and* a very good final.
Still, unlike her husband, she didn't wince at a B. For that matter, Andy
didn't wince at her B s, at least where she could see him.

Despite eating left-overs for three lunches and a supper, finals week was
the first time she went over the weekly food budget. Well, they wouldn't be
buying any groceries over the Christmas break, and they'd budgeted for
doing so.

Andy picked her up from her last exam. They went home for a lunch of
tuna-salad sandwiches. She made Spanish rice for dinner. The hamburger in
the freezer and the dry beans and rice would last over the holiday. She
wasn't sure that the onions would. When she set the meal down to cool, Andy
came over and kissed the top of her head. He'd spent so much time studying
at the kitchen table the last three weeks that it hadn't occurred to her
until he stood up that he didn't have any studying to do when he was
sitting there now.

"It's mini-orgy time," he said. Well, it was.

"Let me get out of this apron." And, for that matter, the rest of her
clothes.

"How long 'til dinner?"

"Two hours. Is that long enough for a mini orgy?"

"Nah! but we can take a break." And in the next two hours, she had at least
four climaxes. She lost count after three, but -- as she slowly recovered
from the last one -- she was clear it was a long time after the third.

"I'm not sure I can get up," she said when Andy let her go. He was still
dressed.

"Want breakfast in bed? Well, dinner in bed."

"No." She didn't really have the energy to leave the bed, but she had
several necessities making her get up. In the john, she got into her warm
nightie and robe. The complex was heated much more reliably than Andy's old
room had been, but it was an awfully cold day outside and some of that
chill penetrated. She dished up supper. When they had eaten, Andy had some
questions.

"Wanna go up noon tomorrow?" Chicago and Evanston were always 'up' to them
-- same as they were on a map. She nodded. That had always been her intent,
though their talk for days hadn't extended beyond finals. "Wanna pack now?"

"What happened to your mini-orgy?"

"We're taking a break. I figured you didn't want my weight on your belly
just now." The practical side of a sex monster. But Andy was right, as he
usually was when he was being practical. They packed separately. She left
room for the nightie and robe that she was wearing then. Actually, she
still had warm-weather clothes at home. Andy seemed to assume that his
clothes, aside from outerwear and a pair of sweaters, matched every season.
When Andy came back into the bedroom from setting the luggage by the door,
he began stripping off his clothes.

Later, chilling on top of the bed as she recovered from what seemed an
endless series of climaxes, she pushed his head away from her thighs as he
tried to begin again.

"Andy, even a mini-orgy requires two people." He pointed at her and raised
one finger of the other hand. Then he jerked his thumb at himself and
raised a second finger. "Yeah. But your participation is too distant. Come
here."

"I love you." He moved forwards to kiss her tits, but then he moved up over
her body until she could grasp him. She spread herself with one hand and
guided him in with the other. "Oh, darling," he said when he was at the
entrance. "Loooove," he said as he slowly pressed into her. He spread her
and then filled her. He kissed her forehead. "So warm, so slick, so you!"

"So hard," she answered him, "so hot, so full." Of course, it was she who
was full, but her sensations kept her from thinking -- much less speaking
-- clearly. He moved part-way out and then fully in while staring her in
the eye. At his slow movements, her arousal soared upwards. She reached
around his back to clasp her hands and pulled him against her more tightly
on every stroke. When the lightning struck, she lost all control of her
body. Her limbs thrashed while her torso squirmed.

"Love!" He pinned her against the mattress with his pelvis as he throbbed
deep within her.

While she recovered, he was heavy on her. That made breathing harder, but
she wanted him close. When he finally moved off, he pulled the covers over
them and cuddled her into the spoon.

"Oh, darling," he said. "Lovely... You are so sweet." He licked the top of
her ear. "Sweet outside and sweet inside... The sweetest girl in the whole
world." She thought for a minute about asking him how many he had sampled,
but it wasn't worth it. If he'd said that her pussy tasted better than
Robin's, for example, she might get jealous, but that she tasted better
than a couple billion other women was just a compliment. Besides, she had a
serious question.

"If you enjoy it so much, why do you resist me?"

"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?"
His hand slowly slipped from her tit towards her mound. She intercepted it
and stopped it on her stomach. "See?" He rubbed her stomach and pulled her
back a bit more firmly against his chest. Soon, his hand went back to her
tit.

"You like cuddling?"

"I like cuddling; I like watching you cook or study. Sometimes you're even
more beautiful. I figure that I'll take all of you that I can get."

"And if you take so much of me that I can't get up in the morning?" Or, for
that matter, if she died in bed. She didn't know if you could die of
orgasm, but she sure couldn't feel like that all night. You could develop a
sore clit, and he had done that to her in the past. It was feeling fairly
tender right now.

"I'll get you to the station. You could sleep on the train." That really
wasn't the problem.

"You're a weird guy, Andy."

"Well, you married me knowing that." And so she had. Really, Andy was a
weird guy in sort of nice ways. Maybe she had to restrain him sometimes,
but that was better than somebody going for his own climax and leaving her
to take care of hers. "And I love you." And she'd married him knowing that,
too.

"I love you, too."

The shower the next morning would their last shared one for the next
several weeks. They made it last. Instead of an actual lunch, they finished
off a bunch of left-overs. They left nothing in the 'fridge but margarine
and condiments. Other Zates were on the train with them, and they rode
together.

Jim Trainor met them at the station. He had one of those wheel-things for
luggage which he gave to Andy as an early Christmas present. Andy wheeled
their luggage to the car and put it in the trunk. Then he helped her into
the back seat.

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

"Well, I'm not going anywhere without Andy." Which was a silly thing to
say, since she hadn't got his present yet. She had to go shopping without
Andy, but Mom wasn't going to divide them.

"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."

"So," asked Jim Trainor about when they crossed into Evanston, "how do you
think classes went?"

"I didn't see any huge gaps on the test," Andy began. "Of course, if it was
a real gap, I wouldn't have seen it." That was Andy-speak for maybe another
straight-A semester. Actually, Andy was taking only engineering courses at
this point; he would be disturbed by a B. His father was as good at
translating Andy-speak as she was, and he didn't turn a hair.

"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."

"And what will your four classes be next semester?" He was driving up to
the house now.

"Well, for one thing, they'll be only one class." Andy got the bags while
his dad opened the door. When they all went in, Andy headed up to their
room with half the luggage. Jim Trainor motioned for her to follow him. He
stopped in the kitchen.

"Marilyn! You promised! Now you're cutting back on classes. Will you have
enough credits to graduate?"

"Easily. What I'm taking next semester is Practice Teaching. It will be
enough credits and more than the usual amount of time. I have enough
credits in English, enough distribution too, for a degree in English right
now. A degree in teaching, to say nothing of a licence, requires Practice
Teaching. What did I promise, anyway?"

"To tell me before you did something stupid. The budget is working, then?"

"Well, if taking Practice Teaching is stupid, so is taking a teaching
degree at all. The budget is working fine. I had to take a vacuum cleaner
out of the food budget because I hadn't thought about that, but that's
about paid for. And your tickets turned the tide. Knock on wood; we're one
disaster from going broke, but that disaster hasn't happened yet. Did you
think the budget was too tight? Where?"

"I've never seen the budget. I hope you have."

"Sure. We're married. Actually, I mostly made out the budget." Besides,
Andy was declaring his independence for his dad, not from her. "Andy's good
at living cheaply, but not at planning for particular expenses."

"Yeah," Jim Trainor said. "You and I -- and nearly everybody -- want more
than we can afford. So we prioritize -- at least we do if we're sane. Andy
buys everything he wants like a silly teenager. The difference is that Andy
wants so few things." She thought of her ring.

"Yeah." She held up the ring. "Andy said that we could buy any ring I
wanted. That's when I had to work out the budget. Otherwise, we would be
bankrupt by now."

"You wanted a bigger ring? I could have..."

"You're as bad as your son. I wanted a bigger ring. I wanted to eat this
year. And I wanted to eat much more than I wanted a ring. Andy wanted to be
independent, and -- if we really aren't -- we're a lot closer to it than we
would be if we ran to you with all our wish list. Andy wants me to be
happy, but I want him to be happy, too."

"You know," Jim Trainor responded, "the weakness of his method is *you*. As
a beginning engineer, he'll make enough to buy everything he wants to make
himself happy. The pay of a hardware clerk would have sufficed easily. But
you're normal. There isn't enough money in the world to buy everything you
want to make you happy." Maybe so, but one thing she wanted was to be
solvent. She'd spent more than three months one misstep away from disaster.
She could control her other wants to get them a cushion.

"So, I have to run the budget." At this point, Andy came clattering into
the room.

"Snack?" he asked.

"Pizza?" his dad answered. They agreed on pizza with the toppings they'd
had previously.

When Mom asked her to come over in the middle of the day, she went prepared
to tell her that they were a married couple now. Actually, her question was
what to give Andy for Christmas. That was a perfectly acceptable reason to
speak to her outside of Andy's hearing.

"Welcome to the club! I wouldn't give him a tie." She had learned that most
of his ties came from The Turd. He'd only started wearing them because she
had asked him to. Another gift tie from somebody whom he didn't like might
be too much. "You're going to get one gift from both of us, so don't you
and Dad get him two. I still haven't chosen my own gift, yet. The fact is
that even his sisters don't know what to get him."

The Christmas gifts they gave that year were inexpensive. They each bought
for the ones they knew best, but the cards said it was from both. The ones
they received tended to be practical. The parents, at least, realized that
they were scrimping. They had the good sense to see that filling a need
would inspire more gratitude than a bit of incongruous luxury would. Even
Andy's mom sent a cookbook which claimed to be for cheap meals. Most were a
little more expensive than the ones she was already cooking, but they would
work for celebration and variety.

They learned to make love almost silently. And Jim Trainor never suggested
that he heard anything. Of course, he wouldn't have mentioned it even if he
had heard. Occasionally, when Andy and she passed the leather armchair, he
glanced at her. Yeah; she remembered the session over the back of it.

She had decided to think of Andy's dad as Jim Trainor after she responded
to one of the times Andy said, "I love you, Mrs. Trainor," with, "And I
love you, Mr. Trainor." She didn't really think of Andy as 'Mr. Trainor.'
Of course 'Mrs. Trainor' meant more to him. She was Mrs. Trainor because
she'd married him; he'd been a Trainor for life. And she would be
identified as 'Mrs. Trainor' for her entire school career. She didn't know
what engineers were called -- maybe different things in different
companies.

The second Sunday in church, they followed Jim Trainor while he walked past
his usual seat in church to the pew her parents occupied.

"May we join you?" he asked. The stapled-together family sat together.
After church, they stood together. Mom even asked about Molly and April.
She could recognize a peace gesture when she saw it.

New Year's Eve, Dad asked Andy what he was drinking when they had walked
over at 9:30. Andy took a scotch and soda. He finished it at the toast to
1978 at midnight. She drank three to his one, and he must have had twice
her weight. His dad was one of the more sober ones leaving the party, but
he had been drinking steadily. Of course, Andy had been sipping steadily,
too, just not much. On the other hand, Andy had made inroads on the snacks.

She had a headache and a queasy stomach on the first morning of the new
year. Andy looked fit.

"That was statutory rape, you know," she told him. He wriggled his
eyebrows. "You had your way with me last night when I wasn't in shape to
give consent." She didn't really think she'd been that drunk then, but she
was in a nasty humor now.

"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." Yeah. She began to remember that. She hoped Jim Trainor wouldn't.
They came down late to breakfast, but they beat Andy's dad down.

"Have some coffee," she greeted him.

"God bless you."

"Sorry for the cereal. I didn't feel up to cooking this morning."

"The ones you do cook are a gift. I can understand your not feeling up to
anything this morning. Are we going to church?" She thought a long time
about that. Finally, she nodded. Nodding was a mistake. Andy drove and his
dad sat in the back seat. Mom and Dad didn't make it.

When their grades came in, Andy had aced every class for the third semester
in a row. She'd made Dean's List for the first time. She pointed out to Dad
that marriage had improved her study habits.

"*My* father told me when I was learning to drive," he said, "that a guy
who could drive a car around a corner while kissing a girl wasn't paying
enough attention to the kiss." As a matter of fact, Dad had repeated the
same old saw to Pete, and she'd heard it then.

"Well we study at a different time." Different from what, she didn't say.
Dad laughed and said he'd been joking. That was as close as she'd ever come
to discussing sex with Dad.

The last dinner at her old house before heading back down to campus, he
repeated the joke.

"Well," said Andy, "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." Andy would never
say that he was smarter than she was, although anybody else could see it.
"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."

"It sounds unfair to me, too," Mom 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."

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

"No, darling. 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," Dad said. He was probably correct. She
could see the advantages of saving now, but she hadn't before. Really, what
a kid could save was nothing compared to what she needed.

"But I learned to cook and you didn't. When we came together, we put all
that into the pot. 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."

"And, maybe four times a year," Marilyn said, "you do. 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."

"Not before you get your degree."

"See!" She pointed out. "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.

"And don't worry, Andy, I was talking a wild hypothetical.

"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."

She apologized to Andy's dad -- and to Andy -- on the drive back.

"I'm afraid that there was a little unfinished business there."

"Well," Jim Trainor 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."

"Say that again," Andy said. She had to think for a second to see what he
wanted.

"Andy and I are a family now."


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


These same events from Andy's perspective:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_11m.htm
Andy's experience

The first adventures of Marilyn with Andy:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_01f.htm
"The Meeting - F"

Another story about another couple starting their marriage:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/fos_05f.htm
"Oh Canada"

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