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From: Incest Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Subject: "The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane" Part 11A
Date: Sat, 17 Dec 2005 10:59:51 -0800
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/marthaj.html
The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane
Part 11A
I sat dumbfounded while viewing my first foreign-language film -- so
amazed, that at first I didn't feel Martha nudge me with her elbow
in the dark theater until she did so insistently. I turned to her.
She smiled and wiggled her fingers near my face. Understanding, I
held her hand in mine. She smiled again, playfully, and hugged our
clasped hands against her thigh over her skirt. She rubbed my arm
cozily, and turned back to the movie.
I had never seen such a film. The movie was "Bicycle Thief," which
had been released years earlier. The lilting rhythm of the
original, unedited Italian dialogue rolling off the actors' lips,
the newness of their attitudes and the earthy acting style -- all of
it had me, as had happened so many times since I arrived in New
York, sitting with my eyes bulging and my mouth open.
When we left the cinema I was dazed. Everything I knew about acting
and theater production and movie-making had been expanded beyond my
expectations. I sat wordlessly at our late dinner in a Village
beatnik coffee shop.
Martha asked, "Is anything wrong? You look lost."
I explained with difficulty, "My brain is working overtime."
And it was. So many impressions were striking me at once that I was
soon exhausted trying to sort them out and keep track of everything.
We took a long walk all the way uptown to her apartment, during
which I had to inspect every store window and peer around corners to
see what was there. It seemed every inch of Third Avenue presented
something new and exotic. Martha was pleased that I was so
enchanted.
"It's a little intimidating," I mused aloud as we strolled with
Martha hugging my arm.
"It doesn't really frighten you, does it?"
"It's a lot like being in the middle of something that has no
beginning and no end. And that movie -- now I have to learn about
the theater all over again. From scratch. All of this... it just
keeps going, doesn't it? It never stops."
"Oh, it stops. At around 4 A.M., for an hour or so."
In her apartment as we prepared for bed, Martha told me about the
schedule for tomorrow. I had Fiore at ten, and Ronnie would meet me
at noon where she worked at 33rd and Madison. She would take me to
the eyeglass dealer and help me choose a set of frames. Then I was
free, until Martha returned at around five. Martha would wake at
six and be ready to go to a meeting at Columbia by seven.
"I dread these things," she said, slipping out of her skirt. "So
political, so artificial. Everything is numbers, bureaucrats,
committees. For such educated people, there seems to be no one
person who can do or decide anything alone."
I watched her. She removed her bra, her panties. She stood naked,
her flesh glowing in the lamplight. She reached into a drawer for
her pajamas -- blue ones this time -- and started unfolding them.
My balls ached. I was accustomed to her making the first move or
giving the first signals. Holding back, I felt myself tremble. I
looked down at my shaking hands. How long, I asked, would I
continue to be so unsure of a woman who so obviously desired me? Or
was it just the vitamins and Fiore's workout? Or was this really
me, my new sexuality more demanding that it was back in Memphis?
Almost always, sex with Martha was prefaced by moments of relaxed
conversation and sweet touching. That, I told myself, was the
emotional warm-up. What I felt now was spurred not by emotion; it
was almost entirely physical.
Standing in my underwear, I looked at her nakedness as she talked
about the meeting and unbuttoned her neatly packed pajama top. She
was luscious. Her breasts jiggled lightly as her hands worked at
the buttons. She stood with one leg on the floor and the on the
bed, as she rambled on. She had the pajama shirt unbuttoned and
would soon have it on, covering her pink-tipped breasts.
I stopped thinking. I walked to the bedside lamp and turned it off.
She stopped talking and looked up at me. I stared daringly into her
wondering face as I approached her. I dipped my head, licked a
breast, found her nipple with my tongue, and sucked.
I heard her murmur "Hmm. Hon." Her fingers held the breast to my
mouth and I suckled gently. I raised my head and placed my lips
into the warm hollow of her throat. She sighed pleasurably as I
kissed and licked my way up her long throat. I looked at her. She
was smiling at me, her eyes narrowed and warm and sultry.
"Your mouth feels good on me," she said.
I held her by her shoulders and gently laid her on the bed. She lay
with her legs spread, smiling at me languidly from the dark as I
removed my underwear. She saw that I was already stiff. I walked
to the end of the bed, my dick wobbling, and knelt on the mattress.
She grinned and pulled her knees up and opened her thighs and
waited. I moved forward, and placed my head directly into her
crotch, gently spreading her cunt with my hands, and gave her a
long, slow, wet lick along her slit, from bottom to top.
"Yes," she breathed softly, "Oh, hon, yes."
Perhaps it was the lecherous hunger in my mouth and movements that
heated her so quickly. Holding her furrow open with the spread
fingers of both my hands, I saw her nub was swollen and ready. I
held her open, her clit totally bared and defenseless. She looked
down at me as I dipped my tongue. I licked, circling slowly. She
uttered "Ah!", and gritted her teeth and watched my eyes watching
hers. Then her eyes closed, her neck tensed, her raised knees fell
aside and opened her smoothly tendoned thighs under my shoulders. I
circled my tongue again, not directly on her clit, but around the
firm rim of her cunt lips. After a moment I gently sucked her clit.
She caught her breath. ""Ah. Nice."
I settled my mouth into her mound. Yearningly I started sucking her
clit the way she might suck my longer cock, using my lips as a warm
cone sliding up and down her stiffening length. Her thighs
stiffened, the tendons throbbed. She gave a soft, surprised "Oh!"
Her head fell back and she gasped irregularly, her hips arching.
Unrelenting, I sucked and stroked with my wet inner lips in a steady
rhythm, feeling the smooth swell of her furrowed mound against my
face, feeling her thighs flutter and her hips flex. Soon I heard
her moan achingly toward the ceiling, "It's so good. Oh, it's so
GOOD!". It did not take long for her to signal that she was near
cumming. Her entire body quivered for a few seconds, then her
thighs widened even more and she began a slow, sensuous writhing of
her hips.
I stopped, with her close and gasping and writhing. I rose over
her, my erection swaying, my tip glistening in the dark. I knelt
over her with my knees astride her head. I grasped the headboard as
I raised my hips and dangled my cock over her mouth.
She looked up, surprised. Her eyes narrowed wickedly. "Yeah," she
whispered. She reached behind her head and bunched the pillow so
that her head leaned forward comfortably. She smiled into my eyes
as she gathered spit in her mouth and then extended her tongue to
slowly and completely wet me with long, lingering licks.
I grinned down at her. I heard myself whisper lecherously, "Yeah.
Mmm. Suck it. Suck."
With a single movement of her head forward, her mouth enclosed me,
wetly, hotly, immersing me entirely with warm spit and clinging
flesh. I grunted and sighed at the poignant, itching pleasure as
she drew her mouth back and along my entire length with a long
slurp. Then she mouthed my tip gently with the soft inside of her
lips. My cock jerked against her mouth.
"Hmm," she breathed. She leered mischievously at me, whispering, "I
love this."
"Suck," I whispered. "Suck my dick."
Her eyes widened lustfully at my words, and she enclosed me again,
nodding with slow, regular, spitty, lingering sucks. Her mouth
moved only an inch or two, her lips riding loose and slick up and
down my cock, the pressure of her tongue on the underside creating
most of the tantalizing sucking effect.
I sighed hotly, grinning down at her, thinking that what Martha did
when she sucked was not really sucking; it was mouth-fucking, pure
and simple. Martha, I thought, knew how to make her mouth feel
almost exactly like a warm, affectionate, perpetually moving cunt.
Her skill had not diminished with time; soon my cock began its mad
twitching against the roof of her mouth and I felt the beginnings of
my climax ooze into the tubes under my cock. I gently pulled away,
her mouth loosing me with a little slurp.
My eyes on hers, I watched as I slithered down, straightening my
legs and settling onto her. The surprise on her face softened when
she saw me rise on my arms and angle my cock toward her opening.
She continued to gasp, her breath broken and her eyes staring
helplessly, pleading to be filled, telling me she was still near
orgasm. My cock touched her firm, drippy outer lips. Her thighs
fell open again, and her pelvis lifted to me, her cunt lips
welcoming, kissing, grasping, encircling my tip. I moved forward.
And her eyes glistened and I exhaled with the pleasure of my slide
into her, the familiar slickness of her welcoming channel, the
clinging, loving comfort of the gripping flesh of her that my cock
had known so well before. My shaft lurched upward, saying hello to
her secret place, and she clinched me in return. And I began to
slide in her, luxuriate in her, with long and deep and slow and
powerful and steady strokes, my butt tightening in the warm hair and
my belly grazing hers.
"Fuck," she whispered happily, her eyes glistening. "Fuck."
I watched her panting. I felt her spasm wetly around me. I
tightened my tummy and moved upward on her slightly, brushing her
seeking and swollen clit on every glide in and out of her, and her
eyes flared with pleasure.
I whispered as I moved, "Are you close?"
She nodded, quickly, her eyes shifting and her breath shuddering.
I said, "Look at me. Cum in my eyes. I want to see your eyes while
you cum."
Her eyes widened again, excitedly. Unsmiling and seemingly
entranced, she parted her lips and tried to speak, but couldn't.
She gulped thickly, and started panting. Her eyes melted into a
longing, helpless stare. Her nails clamped into my shoulders, her
taut arms quivered. Balancing on my right hand and still moving
inside her, I swooped my left arm under her, around her trim waist,
and held the small of her back in my spread palm. I felt the
muscles in her hips lurching under my skin. I whispered "cum" to
her, encouraging, helping, and whispered "cum" again, watching her
eyes, watching her mouth part and her eyes glaze and watching her
lips mouth the word yes and watching her gasp and mouth yes again
and then feeling her stiffen, suddenly, taut as a wire, her pelvis
grinding her firm clit against my shaft, and then her sudden,
moaning, low-pitched, frenzied "Yes!" and she was cumming, her cunt
fiercely clamping, her neck straining, her face nodding and pitching
forward in small spasms as she stared at me and came, and I held her
cheek with my hand and smiled into her face and crooned as her
father might, "Yes. Yes," and her face and feverish eyes froze with
pleasure and after a moment while she was cumming her throat uttered
that strange, animalistic sound she sometimes made, something
between a groan and the whimper of a helpless infant, and I held her
face tenderly and slowed my fucking to make it last for her, and she
shuddered, stiffened, shuddered, and finally her face fell forward
and her arms enclosed me and she hugged me to her and opened her
mouth against my shoulder and seemed to scream quietly against my
flesh there, and she relaxed, and whimpered, and gasped for breath,
and then fell back with a sigh, her eyes tearing and her mouth
moving with the word Steven, and her face soft and loving as her
fingers held my cheeks, and she whispered plaintively, "Cum in me.
Cum inside me," and I raised on my arms and looked down at her body
stretched and spread under me and began lancing into her strongly
again, steadily, deeply, and trembling with long-held lust I felt
again the new pleasure of the nub of her womb nip at my tip deep
inside her, and she tightened her cunt on me imploringly and soon I
felt the blessed release and gasped and shook with it, seeing below
me what I had always suspected, that as my glistening shaft pumped
into her auburn tuft her tummy did indeed move, but subtly, her hips
rotating in a slow tiny circle so that her slithering cunt could
wring cum from me, asking ruthlessly for it all, and I slowed and
groaned and kept twitching upward against the roof of her cunt and
gushing hotly, hearing the faint slosh of me in her, and hearing her
sweet "mmm" and her softly hissed "Yes" as she raised her head to
watch me fuck into her, and with my last, slowing strokes she sighed
a long, quiet, contented "aahh," and I stopped, and collapsed on
her, feeling her neck hot against my face, and she hugged me warmly
and cuddled into me, and reached down between us for me to raise my
belly so she could give my cock a tug as she liked to do, and then
she hugged me again, my breath hot and damp against her neck, and
her hips writhing happily as my twitches waned inside her. She
raised her legs around me, her body now enclosing me completely in
her heat and damp flesh and the scent of warm milk that came from
her.
She was still catching her breath. Against my ear, she gave a low,
pleased chuckle. "Lord, do you know how to fuck."
I panted, my aching balls empty.
After a few moments I whispered, "Don't you have to go to the
bathroom?"
She sighed wearily. "Not really. It's not the right time of the
month."
"Maybe you should be sure."
"I'd love to sleep with your cum in me."
"Mother nature would love it too."
"Mm...Okay. But hold me a little longer. Wait 'til you're asleep."
At the window, the warm summer night sent a breeze that made the
curtains whisper sleepily. For a few minutes, I thought, New York
was stilled. My mind whispered silently: Stay. Stay here. Keep
holding her. Hold this moment.
Unaccustomed to sleeping for more than five or six hours, I awoke on
Monday a little before six. Beside me, I saw that Martha had
changed into her blue pajamas while I slept. I touched my lips to
her cheek, and got out of bed and dressed and made coffee. I had
been sitting in the dining room only a couple of minutes before I
heard the same soft knock at the door that I'd heard the day before.
Going to the door, I cleared my throat loudly, as before.
"Steven?" Ronnie called softly from the other side.
I opened the door, removing my glasses first. Ronnie waited in the
same pajamas and bathrobe as yesterday.
"Steven," she said. As before, she made the same begging gesture
and sheepish grin. "Sugar?"
"Sure," I said, extending my arm into the room. She tiptoed into
the kitchen. I sat waiting at the dining table until she tiptoed
out again, holding a coffee cup half-filled with sugar. I opened
the front door for her.
She glanced at the sofa, which of course was made up and intact as
before. "What a fireball," she whispered, slithering into the hall.
I closed the door and turned to hear Martha rustling in the bedroom.
In a few seconds she appeared in the living room doorway as she had
yesterday when Ronnie borrowed coffee. Martha slumped in her
pajamas and scratched her side. Her face was half-covered with the
same fuzzy tousle.
"Ronnie again?" she slurred.
I nodded. "Right. She ran out of sugar."
"God...she's so disorganized."
She stumbled into the bathroom. I read the Sunday New York Times
that I had not finished the day before. After a minute I heard
Martha dropping things in the bathroom again. In a few seconds she
emerged, carrying an armful of cosmetics and drifting toward the
kitchen. She stopped in the kitchen door and sniffed, testing the
air. She turned to me, her eyes still half-closed behind the hair
in her face.
"You made coffee again?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, looking up from my newspapers.
She paused, seeming to fall asleep for a second or two, then drifted
toward me and dropped the cosmetics on the table and shoved the
table away from me with her hips, and then settled with a plop onto
my lap and buried her face in my shoulder. She kissed my neck. She
nestled into my shoulder for a minute, her breathing still noisy and
sleepy.
She pulled her head away and looked at me, eyes hooded.
"Kiss me," she murmured, a little drunk with sleep.
We kissed, warmly.
She pulled away. Still sleepy, she gazed without expression at my
mouth. She shifted on my lap, closer to me, her arms around my
neck.
"Kiss me again," she murmured.
I did, for a long sweet minute.
She pulled away. She paused. She made a sound that was something
like a little whimper of frustration.
"Kiss me again," she murmured.
I did, more longingly this time, giving her lips a little lick while
we were still connected.
Pulling away, she experimentally ran her tongue around her lips.
"Mm. New sensation." She looked at me, her half-closed eyes hidden
behind her hair. Mostly, I saw nose, lips, and chin. "You never
did it that way before."
"I didn't?"
She shook her head no. She leaned down. "Kiss me again," she
murmured.
I did. This time she gently invaded my mouth with her tongue, which
wrestled wetly with mine for a few seconds. When she pulled away
she rested her forehead against mine.
"Do you know what you did to me last night?" she whispered.
"I have a vague recollection," I said.
"Try to remember. I want you to do it again when I get home this
afternoon."
"I'll consult my notes."
"Okay." She rubbed her nose listlessly. "Remember," she said,
"Fiore at ten. Ronnie at twelve. Then rest. Then me."
"Okay."
"You were very good last night."
"Mm. Thank you, Miss Scarlett."
"We're seeing West Side Story tonight, don't forget."
"Will we have time for that, and for you when you get home?"
She said, "Mm-hm," and then tilted her face again, her mouth
parting. "Kiss me again," she murmured.
I did.
Finally she pulled away, patted my shoulders, and rose. Gathering
her cosmetics, she sighed, "What a delicious mouth," and she drifted
toward the kitchen, again she stripped quickly, affording me another
view of her perfect, lithe body from the rear, and stepped into the
shower.
I thought, my groin aching from the past three days: Fiore, I
thought, help me with this.
Continued...
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