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From: Incest Man <familyincestfamilyincest@yahoo.com>
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Subject: story: "The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane" (bf mF mF+) Part 13D
Date: Sun, 13 Aug 2006 00:20:21 -0700
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/mathaj.html
The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane
Part 13D
Saturday.
I slept like a corpse until Martha woke me up at nine and
told me it was time for Fiore's last session.
"Gimme a break," I moaned, hiding my head under the pillow.
"Now you sound like a New Yorker," Martha said. "Come on,
get up."
Again, I worked desperately in the club. Again, Fiore
grinned at me. "You do well for only a week! Good! But
don't undo it on the last day. Slow down!" At the end of
the session he gave me a firm handshake that had my jowls
bouncing. "You worked hard. Good, I like that! If you
come back, I give you a special price! Hah? Not because I
like you so much, but I am in love with Martha! You're in
love with her, too, hah? Only someone in love works that
hard!"
"Fiore," I said, not answering but looking him straight in
the eye, "Thank you."
He laughed a hearty, knowing laugh. Then he held up his
famous, warning finger. "Watch your limits, my friend!
And good luck!"
I took my time getting back to Martha's. Going out of my
way, I entered Central Park and broke into a jog. But I
soon slowed to a tired walk. One day. One more day.
"Never try to go back," Fiore had said, "Only ahead." He
had said, "Watch your limits, my friend!" I heard his
words and recalled his instructions. I was tired and, for
the time being, at a stalemate. Torturing myself to
surpass my limits at the last minute wouldn't get me very
far. I told myself I would have to be careful. I couldn't
push it. I couldn't push myself too hard. But would I be
able to avoid pushing Martha during the next twenty-four
hours? As I strolled I continued to observe and memorize.
How long would it take me to get back to New York? I was a
day away from the airport, and I was already thinking about
how to get back to New York.
On my way upstairs I heard Ronnie's door open as I passed.
"Hey, you," she called behind me. I stopped and turned.
She beckoned me to her with a finger. She stood pursing
her lips, her eyes mildly accusing.
"Full of surprises, aren't you?" she said, one hand on her
hip.
I grinned. "You don't have to say anything."
"Listen," she said, winking, "I owe you one."
I winked back. "You already gave me one."
"I give dividends," she said wryly. "Go on up there,
Martha's waiting for you." She winked one more time and
went into her apartment, her lips forming a noisy smooch as
she closed the door.
Martha had constructed a huge salad for lunch. Having got
out of bed too late for breakfast, I ate at her dining room
table until I felt I wouldn't be able to walk. Martha was
reticent. At one point the room was so quiet that I only
heard her chewing and swallowing. It was as somber a meal
as I'd ever had.
"So what do you want to do this afternoon?" she asked, not
looking at me. She prodded her salad listlessly with her
fork.
"Right now? I want a nap." I stretched and groaned.
"Fiore expected a full day's work, even on the last day."
I yawned. "Wanna take a nap with me?" I asked.
"You go ahead. I have so much to do to get ready for work
again next week. I won't have time all day tomorrow, half
the day will be at LaGuardia to see you off," she said,
pushing a cherry tomato across her plate. "I wish you'd go
straight back to doing what you want to do when you get
home."
"I was thinking about that."
"Don't think about it, Steven," she said solemnly. "Do it.
You know you want to. Don't..." She stopped and sighed
and shoved the tomato in her mouth.
"Don't?" I said.
She shook her head no. I was reminded of how she'd behaved
during our last few minutes together at the Holiday Inn,
years ago, in Memphis.
"I won't preach," she said. "I do enough of that during
the week and with Ronnie. It doesn't do any good."
"Im not ignoring you. I listen to every word you say."
"I hope so," she said.
I rose and gave her a kiss and stretched again. "Okay, we
can think of something to do later. Anyway, I want to make
that midnight trip to the newsstand and get a Sunday Times,
if we don't do anything else. But I'm really pooped right
now. You wore me out this week. You and Fiore. And New
York. And Ronnie." She didn't say anything, so I kissed
her cheek again. "It's been a wonderful week. Really.
I'm not the same person. You did a hell of a job with me,
and I'm not forgetting anything I saw or learned."
She gripped my hand. "Good, Steven. And I'm glad to hear
you tell me so, for a change. Hey, go take your nap so we
can get around a little tonight."
I got down to my undies and lay in bed. A strong breeze
blew into the bedroom and smelled faintly of the East
River. I pulled the sheet over me. In about half a minute
I was asleep. I dreamed I was home. I saw all the faces
of my family, my parents, uncles, aunts, the Ricci's, the
Lobianco's. They smiled amiably, some of them lovingly.
In the dream I asked, "Who are you smiling at?" No one
answered.
Then in the dream I heard Martha talking on the telephone.
I opened my eyes. The long shadows on the buildings
outside the window told me it was late in the afternoon. I
rolled on my back and stretched. Martha was still talking
on the phone in the living room.
"Ronnie, I don't know, I already told you...But there's not
enough time, and you know how something like that...Yeah,
right...I don't know, it's...No, I don't...No, honey,
don't. All right? Please?...That's better...Okay, I'll
call you later, maybe...Maybe...Later, Ron..."
Martha hung up. I heard her moving around in the living
room. After a minute she looked into the bedroom and saw I
was awake. She sat on the bed, unsmiling.
"Well?" she said.
"I guess I'll just lie here and look at you for a while."
She frowned and said, "Oh, you."
"Well, what's wrong with that? Why should I wear myself
out on the last day? I've run myself ragged all week.
That's not what a vacation is supposed to be. I have
enough money for a camera. Why don't I buy a cheap camera
and take some pictures of Central Park?"
"You really like it there?"
"Sure. Might even have a hot dog. Fiore won't be
watching."
She looked down at her hands and fiddled with a finger and
then sighed and shifted uncomfortably on the bed and then
dropped her hands and complained, "Oh, hon, why is this so
hard to say?"
"I never knew you to have that much trouble saying what you
wanted to. I envy you. You're so much more outspoken than
most people."
"No, hon, it's-- -" She gazed out the window with a look of
painful frustration. "Oh, I..." She sighed and looked
down and confessed, "I guess I don't want you to go."
I didn't say anything.
"Oh, baby, there was so much more I wanted to do. It seems
we're always parting, we're always doing something else,
and yet I...even if I did everything I wanted to do, you'd
still have to go. And, anyway, I can't do everything I
wanted to. I don't want you going back to those people.
That's really what I don't want, I don't want you with them
anymore. I want you learning, and growing, and -- But I
can't have it, I can't keep you like a damn gerbil and I
really ought to just leave you be. I have no right to fill
your head with wild ideas that you can't use down there. I
really want you on your own, being you, and..." She
stopped and winced. She squeezed her temples with her
palms. "Oh, damn, why can't I just say this? Damn!"
"I know what you're trying to say," I said frankly, getting
up. "Come on, I'll get dressed and we can see the Park."
"We've seen the park," she pouted.
"Come on. Can I get a camera somewhere, real cheap?"
"I guess so."
"Come on," I said, putting on my shirt. "I won't have you,
or me, sitting around here acting as if we were going to my
funeral. I wanna have fun with you. Come on. And you
were the one who told *me* that *I* couldn't do everything
in the whole world!"
On East 86th Street I bought a cheap camera and some
flashbulbs and film. It was near sunset. I took a picture
of her at the statue of Hans Christian Anderson and she
took one of me on Pilgrim Hill. She cheered up, but not by
much. Soon the sun was setting and we walked home. For
dinner we ate more of the salad. I took my day's third
round of vitamins. Then the yeast. Then more yeast. Then
a third spoonful.
"What in the world are you doing with all that yeast?"
"Fortifying myself," I said. I dipped into the jar for the
fourth time.
"Good heavens," Martha breathed.
I felt good. I was rested. I was drunk with desire for
Martha. I was, secretly, desperate for her. If this was
to be our last night for an undetermined length of time, I
wanted to make it the most memorable of the week.
"It's dark outside," I said. "Let's make it dark in here."
She sat at the table watching as I went through the
apartment closing all the curtains and turning off all the
lights. She soon got the idea and sat with a coy smile
until I finished. The apartment was inky dark. I felt my
way through the black, toward her. I heard her clothes
rustling. By the time I reached her she had removed all
but her panties and bra. I embraced her and kissed her
hair and then her temples and reached behind her to undo
the bra. It fell from her shoulders with a whisper. I
breathed, "Here, in the dark. Let's take our time. We
have all night. You feel so good. Did I ever tell you how
good you feel?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Tell me again."
I told her as she helped me undress. I told her, standing
and caressing her lightly, running my fingers over her
nipples and around her waist and along her hips and across
her delightful, warm, flexing tush. After a moment she
knelt down and began softly tonguing and mouthing my cock
in the dark.
I whispered, "Don't make me cum yet."
"Okay," I heard her say.
"I don't want to cum for a long time."
"Okay," she whispered. All I could hear or see or feel was
her mouth on me. When I was hard and twitching, which
didn't take long, she rose and led me by the hand into the
bedroom. We both bumped into things and sniggered and then
slid into bed together. Martha leaned over me and gave my
nipples inner-lip kisses. It went on for along time. We
caressed each other and whispered, our words growing more
sensual and arousing. We slid on and off each other
lazily.
"Does that feel good?" she asked, running a fingernail
along my balls.
"Yeah. Does that?" I asked, running my fingernail along
the crease of her still warm, moist derriere until I
reached under her and felt wet flesh.
"Ah, yes."
She moved up on me and kissed my neck, and I said "Mmm,"
and enjoyed her doing it, and she licked my earlobes. She
whispered into my ear, "I want more."
"You'll get more, don't worry."
"Steven...you've made me very hot."
"Good."
"No, it's different, it's...I need more."
"Mm. Let's see what naughty things can I think of?"
"You wanna be naughty?"
"Yes."
"Really naughty, Steven?"
"Yes."
"Steven..." She licked my other earlobe.
"Yes?"
She paused and licked again. "I told Ronnie today not to
come over. I wanted you all to myself."
"You'll have plenty on your hands, don't worry."
"Steven."
"Yes?"
"Was it good with her?"
I didn't answer for a second and said, "You saw me, didn't
you?"
"But it felt good, didn't it? I mean, different? Good
different?"
"Yes."
"Steven...hon...I was very excited that night."
"I was too."
"Were you?"
"Yes."
"Mmm. Ah, your dick is wet. It got wet talking about it,
didn't it?"
"Yes."
"Wait," she whispered. "Don't move. I'll be back."
I lay with my cock twitching in the dark while she fumbled
her way into the living room. I heard her dial a number
and then she was talking on the phone briefly. I heard her
hang up. She felt her way along the walls into the room
again. She lay down and leaned over me. She whispered,
shakily, fearfully, "Hon. Ronnie's coming up. She'll be
here in a minute. If it's not all right, tell me now. I'm
sorry, I feel...Oh, Steven, it's scary, I feel so wicked.
Stop me while it's still time to call her back."
I could barely see her face in the dark. "So call her back
if you want to."
"I don't want to. Do you want me to?"
I waited. "No," I whispered.
I heard her breathing nervously. She wiped her mouth and
when she whispered again her mouth sounded dry. "Why am I
so scared? It's not as if we never did anything before.
Steven, I haven't been like this in so long...and only with
you."
"All right. If you want me to, I'll call her. What's her
number?"
"No."
"You don't want me to?"
"Hold me, hon. Please hold me."
I put my arms around her and she lay on me fully and held
my face in her hands and suddenly gave me a long, deep,
loving, searching kiss. The kiss went on and on and she
wouldn't interrupt, breathing through her nose, her lips
constantly mashing mine. A little later, the front door
opened and clicked shut. I heard Ronnie whisper, "Martha?
Steven? God, it's so dark in here." Martha ended the kiss
and whispered loudly, "Ronnie. In the bedroom." Ronnie
said okay, and Martha slid down my body and started licking
my legs and balls.
Ronnie knocked something over in the living room. It fell
to the floor, sounding like a big book. "Sorry," Ronnie
said. "Leave it to me, right?" Soon she appeared in the
doorway, feeling her way along the wall and then past the
door, saying, "It's a good thing this apartment is exactly
like mine. It's so dark in here."
"Wait," Martha said. She got out of bed and gave me a
beautifully vague view of her rear as she hurriedly slid
past Ronnie into the living room. Ronnie peered into the
bedroom from the doorway. She appeared to be wearing a
blanket or a bathrobe. "Steven?" she asked, moving into
the room. "What the hell is Martha doing?", and I
answered, "I don't know." Ronnie felt along the wall until
she was in front of the bed and then I felt her hand
patting the foot of the bed, and she touched my foot.
"Oh!" she exclaimed softly, and laughed gently. "That's
you, right?"
"My foot," I answered.
"This is crazy," she said, but she sounded as if she were
smiling. "Yeah, I'm starting to get used to the dark."
Her hand slithered up my leg. "God, I can't get used to
how warm you are. What the hell are you two doing in the
dark like this?"
"Planning a new deterrent against the Soviet Union."
"Ooooh," she said. "I do a little of that in my spare
time, myself. How far along did you get?" Her hand found
my cock and closed around it. "Hmm. I see I didn't get
here too late. Or just in time?" Her hand squeezed and
rode up and down.
"Careful," I said, loudly.
"Okay. Sorry." She removed her hand and stood up. She
called, "Martha?"
In the living room, I heard the sound of a match flaring,
and then the dim glow from a candle trickled into the room.
Ronnie stood at the foot of the bed in a fluffy terrycloth
bathrobe, smiling at me. She looked down and saw my cock
standing straight up and her smile widened. "Oh," she
said. "There you are." She slipped the bathrobe from her
shoulders and let it slide to the floor. In the near-dark
her small, slim torso and her long legs and arms and small
tits were outlined faintly in yellow. The candlelight
danced and flickered on her soft flesh. The whole scene
was dreamlike, unearthly. I lay in a fog of uncertainty,
swallowing as a wave of weird, indefinable sensations swept
over me.
"Martha told me earlier she wanted you all to herself."
She put one knee on the bed and leaned toward me. She gave
me a small, amiable smile, her dark eyes glinting with two
tiny, fiery dots of light. "But I insisted. I still owe
you one."
Martha came into the room and slid into bed beside me. She
sat up on her legs. Her face was calm, unsmiling,
composed. But her eyes had a darkly eerie intensity. I
turned to her and she leaned down and kissed me softly.
"Do you still want to?" she whispered.
I kissed her back. "For you."
She whispered, "For you, hon. Us. Three of us."
I heard Ronnie whisper, "You two are so romantic with each
other."
I asked Martha, "Still scared?"
She swallowed. "A little."
Ronnie said, her hand sliding up my leg. "Your darkness,
Martha. Remember? It's your darkness. You're always so
scared of it."
"I know," Martha said uneasily. Her lips touched mine
briefly and left a tiny string of moisture between us.
"But Steven's not afraid of his. At least, I don't think
so. He's the one who turned out the lights."
"Steven," Ronnie said, settling on the bed with one thigh
over my legs. Her wet cunt was on my knee. "You're so
full of surprises. Hmm, is there no end to it?" Her lips
touched my thigh and then slid wetly across the head of my
cock. I kissed Martha again. She held my face and kissed
me back, and then looked at me with the same unsmiling face
and then her eyes seemed to simmer with a soft heat.
"Don't let him cum, Ronnie." Then she looked back at me.
She whispered almost inaudibly, her voice urging me with an
otherworldly intensity that I had never heard in her, "Fuck
Ronnie, Steven."
Ronnie had condoms in the bathrobe pocket. She looked up
at me as I lay between her raised knees and she smiled
mischievously as she unrolled the condom onto my waiting
cock and then aimed me into her. Her smile melted into a
steady gaze as I slowly fucked her. She said it was nice
to look into the eyes of someone fucking her so gently.
"Intense," she breathed, "So intense." As my finger did on
Wednesday, my cock found Ronnie narrower than Martha, but
deeper, and the dulling condom had me wondering how it
really felt inside her. The condom slowed me down; there
was just enough sensation to keep me hard in Ronnie. She
said I was just the right size and shape and that I felt
very comfortable in her. I had difficulty contacting her
clit because she had her legs around me and she kept moving
too much under me. Soon I felt I might cum, so I left her
and rested for a minute and then Martha was ready. Martha
refused to use a condom, so I removed it and entered her
without one. Ronnie said she didn't know how Martha could
chance it without protection, and Martha said it was a safe
time of the month and she had additional means for later,
and Ronnie scoffed and said, "God, Martha I can't trust the
papal method." To Ronnie's amazement, Martha came almost
immediately, and noisily, and I had to move very slowly to
hold myself back, but I knew I couldn't resist much longer.
Ronnie said she never saw a man ejaculate, so Martha asked
me to pull out and Ronnie could finish me with her hand. I
sat up on my legs and Ronnie sat in front of me jacking me
off, squealing delightedly as I squirted onto her shoulder
and forearm and dribbled over her hand.
While we rested Ronnie asked Martha how it felt to cum
during intercourse, and Martha tried to describe it but
couldn't. They both stroked and sucked me until I was
ready again, which took longer than I expected, considering
how heated I was, and Ronnie put another condom on me,
saying, "Warning, folks. I don't know how you're gonna
make me cum, Steven, I don't have the slightest idea what
to do." Martha and I prompted her, telling her not to
raise her legs over me but to learn how to angle her pelvis
so that my cock could find her clit with the rubber on, and
after a while I found ways to sense her needs and she
smiled up at me in surprise and muttered, "Oh, yeah. Yeah,
I see now. Oh, I *feel* it! Oh, keep doing that! God,
it's so good, it's right on it!" Martha asked if Ronnie
were comfortable and Ronnie was quickly growing agitated
and she gasped, "Who cares if I'm comfortable, it works!
God, it's good!" She watched me going in and out and
looked up at me and I whispered, "Feel it now?" and she
leered and whispered "Yes," and I asked her "Just like
that?" and she whispered "Yes" and she watched my eyes and
in the same secretive whisper she asked me, "Feel the
darkness? Feel the darkness, sweetheart?" and I moaned
"Yes," and her blue eyes glowed with a deep, dark, moist
blue and she smelled humid like sage and she whispered,
"Me, too. So good. So sweet good," and Martha gazed at me
from beside Ronnie's face and she held my cheek and smiled
lovingly and said "Devils are dancing in your eyes,
Steven," and soon Ronnie's eyes closed and she whispered
dreamily, happily, "I'm a little girl...I'm a
small...soft...wet...fucking little girl, and my darkness
and Steven's darkness are fucking. It's so good, Martha.
Oh it's so good," and she ground her cunt on my cock and I
fucked her deeply and methodically for several minutes, and
then I slowed as she gasped and trembled and winced, and
she came loudly, her slim hips yearning off the bed and her
pelvis quivering against me. When it was over she
breathed, "Jesus!" and I held her for a while and then
Martha kissed me. And I wanted Martha. I had fucked soft,
slender Ronnie with a pure and strangely gentle lust. But
I needed Martha's love and passion and raw intensity. I
entered Martha without the rubber. Uncontrollably we
whispered obscenities while we screwed and Ronnie gaped at
us and then caught on and lay with her face close to
Martha's, whispering the same words and phrases in Martha's
ear as Martha started cumming, and Martha came wildly,
gritting her teeth and laughing "Yes!". My cock was so
hard I wondered if it would fall off if it got any bigger,
and Ronnie asked, "Wanna cum in me?" and she got another
condom onto me and I fucked her hungrily with her knees
raised and her legs spread the way she liked it. But I
couldn't finish with the rubber, so Martha lay back and
rolled me onto her and removed the rubber and put me inside
her. She told Ronnie as my pumping became arduously slow
and deliberate, "He's close, Ronnie, he's close," and
Ronnie asked her how she knew and Martha grit her teeth as
she watched me straining into her and told Ronnie "I know,
that's all," and she told Ronnie to put her fingers on the
muscles under my balls. Martha said, "Do it, Ronnie,
hurry! He's so close!" I felt Ronnie's fingers searching
under my scrotum and then she pressed and found the knot of
muscle and I started squirting and heard Ronnie gasp, "God,
Martha, yeah," and Martha grinned at me and her eyes were
flaming and strange and crazed and her cunt squeezed and
she asked with a greedy smile, "Good?" and I gasped
breathlessly, "Fuck," and I came with Ronnie's fingers
under my balls and her lips kissing my left buttock and I
growled "Fuck" into Martha's wild gaze, and I came for such
a long time that Martha's eyes on mine turned into a blind
stare and she whispered "I'm cummin' again-- -oh I'm...oh,
hon!" and then her eyes closed and her cunt contracted. I
finished, but kept moving until she finished as well.
We rested again and got into a long, poetic, whispering
session with Ronnie about her drawings of darkness. As
Martha dozed off, Ronnie and I continued talking about her
drawings while I fingered her until she came again.
"Another first," she sighed, her hips nodding as she
finished. Soon we were all asleep. I awoke in the dim
light and saw Ronnie getting dressed. She smiled at me and
kissed me and whispered, "That was good. That was good and
dark and wonderful. I want to leave Martha alone with you.
She loves you, Steven. You know that, don't you? So do I,
now." She kissed me again and left. Martha slept. I lay
on my back with my arm cradling her head and fell asleep
again.
Continued...
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