
Message-ID: <51128asstr$1115658602@assm.asstr.org>
From: anon584c@nyx.net
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Subject: {ASSM} rp "Fish Tank" {Uther} (MF wl preg 1st) [1/1] <*>
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Date: Mon, 09 May 2005 13:10:02 -0400
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===================

If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law 
to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do 
something else. 

This material is Copyright, 2002, 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.  I would prefer to do my own reposting, 
thank you. 

If you have any comments or requests, please E-mail them to me 
at anon584c@nyx.net. 

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. 

                            #  # #  #

                            Fish Tank 
                       by Uther Pendragon 
                        anon584c@nyx.net 


Kimberly was waiting in a nightgown when he came out of 
the master bath.  Before letting her by to have her own shower, 
he hugged her.  "Happy anniversary, darling," he said. 

"Happy anniversary, John." 

He held a bottom cheek in each hand and squeezed gently while 
they kissed.  She often complained of secretarial spread.  A 
supportive husband, he applauded each attempt at reduction.  
(Actually, he enjoyed watching some of the exercises.)  Still, he 
thought, she needn't bother; he loved the softness of her 
bottom. 

                              - = - 

She felt John's hands on her butt and his firmness against her 
body.  "Des is still here," she warned.  Saturday morning or not, 
fourteenth anniversary or not, they had to see their daughter off 
to day camp before they began that sort of anniversary 
celebration. 

"Mom, come quick," Des called as if on cue.  John shrugged 
into his robe. 

"Second, darling," she called and reached for her own. 

Des was in her room watching her fish tank.  That had been the 
major gift for her thirteenth birthday.  They'd had their doubts, 
but it was quite a success.  Where they had feared that she would 
only feed the betta for maybe five days, five months later she 
was still providing all the care.  Indeed, Des knew more about 
fish care by this time than either of her parents. 

She knew more about fish in general, too.  But she lacked her 
mother's empathy -- Kim hoped -- for this particular situation.  
The male was wrapped around the new female.  Suddenly two tiny 
things emerged from the female.  The male dived after them and 
captured them in his mouth. 

"Mom," said Des, "he's eating them." 

"No, darling, watch!"  The fish swam up to a bunch of bubbles 
above him.  He spat the eggs into the bubbles.  That's one reason 
they had chosen to let her have the second betta.  Des had begun 
her cycle a few months previously.  Let her start learning about 
the birds and the bees with fish.  "You could hardly expect him 
to hold his babies in his arms, could you?  The fish use their 
mouths to hold things."  Still, when he wrapped himself around 
his mate, he didn't look like he was being tender.  Non-human 
things didn't have the sensitivity that John had shown.  More 
than she'd wanted really. 


    They'd had a small reception after the ceremony.  The 
    families had managed to be quite friendly, really.  Her 
    sister, never friendly, having declined the invitation.  
    Some of them had kept some rice, though, until the end 
    of the reception; she and John were laughing and 
    shedding rice all the way up the stairs to their new 
    apartment.  She combed her fingers through her hair in 
    the doorway. He kissed her when the door was safely 
    closed.  It wasn't his first kiss of the evening, that 
    had been the end of the ceremony; and clinking of 
    glasses had called for many more during the reception.  
    Still, this one lasted even longer, and his tongue 
    probed instead of just visiting the tip of hers. 

    When he stepped back, the bed seemed to dominate the 
    room.  They'd already tried it out, but this time 
    everybody knew.  (Not that it had been a particularly 
    well-kept secret; Des had spoiled that.)  She looked 
    away from it into his face. 

    "Oh, Kim," he said.  He kissed her again.   When they 
    separated, she ducked into the bathroom.  Once she'd 
    used the facilities, she came face to face with a 
    decision.  They were going to sleep naked, they'd 
    discussed that.  Should she walk out undressed?  She 
    decided against that, but did remove her pantyhose 
    instead of pulling them up.  After a moment, she took 
    off her panties as well.  She pulled her skirt back on.  
    How often had John seen her in a skirt?  Not many times.  
    There was nowhere to put the underclothes.  She walked 
    out with them in her hand. 

    John greeted her with another kiss.  This time his hands 
    went to the buttons on her blouse.  When he was done 
    with those, she broke to put it on a hanger and her 
    underclothes over a chair.  He moved behind her to get 
    the bra snaps.  He kissed the back of her head while 
    smoothing his hands over her sides and up to her 
    breasts. 

    "Not fair," she said, and started on his clothes.  When 
    he was down to underpants, he unsnapped her skirt.  He 
    bent over to lower it gently so she could step out of 
    it.  Probably, he was as aware as she was that it would 
    be years before they'd be able to afford to replace 
    clothes of this quality. 
    
    "Oh Darling!" he said when her mound came into sight.  
    He couldn't have avoided noticing her underpants in her 
    hand and on the back of the chair.  Still, he was 
    reacting nicely. 

    He kissed her there, kissed her again on the belly.  
    Then he rose to kiss her full on the lips.  He turned 
    back the bed linens, and she climbed in. 

    "Do you think it shows?" she asked. 

    "No.  Not when you're dressed.  I have to look when 
    you're like this, and -- anyway -- I know."  He knew; 
    their families knew -- even her damned sister -- 
    especially her disapproving sister.  Probably their 
    friends knew.  She didn't say any of that, though.  He 
    kissed her belly, climbed in, and kissed it again.  
    "Sweetness," he said. 

    She tugged at the elastic of his underpants.  He kissed 
    her breasts before pushing his underpants down and 
    throwing them on the floor.  He went back to kissing her 
    belly, all around the slight bulge, then lower into her 
    hair, and then lower again. 

    "Oh John!" she said.  She tugged on his arms and spread 
    her legs.  Suddenly, she wanted him inside. 

    "Oh yes," he said.  But he stayed down there.  He kissed 
    her right on her lower lips and licked between them. 

    "I want you inside," she said.  She did want him inside, 
    and wanted his weight on top of her. 

    When he moved up in the bed and kissed her while 
    hovering over her, she reached for him.  Despite her 
    feelings of expertise by now, they'd both were rather 
    new at this.  She placed him in just the right place, 
    and he moved inward slowly and gently.  "Oh, Kim," he 
    said.  Then he moved out and back almost all the way in. 

    She wanted more, wanted him to fill her up.  Well, he 
    had already filled her up, but she desired another 
    filling.  Then he turned them mostly onto their sides.  
    She gripped him with her thighs.  Soon his hand snuck 
    down between them.  "Oh, Kim," he said again.  And it 
    was Oh!  It was lovely. And he drove into her and out of 
    her, and he caressed her at her most sensitive point  
    Then he kissed her softly at just the right time so that 
    she gasped into his mouth. 

    He followed a moment later, pulsing in her, filling her 
    again with his hot sperm.  


Even at his most passionate moments, he'd been gentler than 
the fish was.  He'd been more protective of the baby.  He'd 
really been more protective than he'd needed to be.  And, when 
Des was being born, he'd sweated bullets.  She'd never asked 
whether he'd been worrying about Des or about her.  Probably, 
knowing her husband, about both. 

                              - = - 

He should see this, though.  The fish was carrying the eggs in 
his mouth.  John would enjoy seeing another protective parent. 

Des figured out that Pat and Mike were doing it.  She wished 
she hadn't called her mom.  She'd thought that she'd moved Mike 
into Pat's tank too soon and that he was fighting.  They were 
*called* fighting fish -- all the articles warned aginst 
moving the female in too soon.  Still, there wasn't any way to 
tear her eyes away.  They were doing it.  She just wanted to 
watch them by herself.  Wasn't her mom embarrassed?  And then, 
when it couldn't get worse, it did. 

"John," her mom called, "you have to see this!" 

                              - = - 

He found his family watching the fish, watching another family 
apparently.  One fish squeezed the eggs out of the other and then 
carried them up to the nursery.  Then he -- fairly clearly it was 
he -- did it again.  They were starting a family with three of 
another species looking on.  Still, they should be used to the 
audience, if they could see them.  Des spent hours watching them.  
And the worst way to start a family felt pretty good.  He could 
remember. 


    The cast party was uproariously happy.  Fitting in had 
    been his hardest role, much harder than he'd had 
    onstage.  Angela had offered them a ride to Kim's place.  
    Prof. Drake stopped him on the way out.  "Wonderful 
    performance, John," he said.  "Can't I persuade you to 
    change majors?" 

    "Professor, I'm a junior."  And what role would he get 
    as a theater arts major the next year?  They weren't 
    going to do "The Emperor Jones." 

    Angela dropped Dave and Annette off first.  "Thanks, 
    Angela," Dave said.  "Forgive me?" 

    "Not till after the last performance.  But you were a 
    great Iago."  He and Kim murmured agreement. 

    "And you were a wonderful Desdemona," Kim said as the 
    doors closed behind the couple. 

    "Thanks, Kim.  But we know who was the star of the 
    evening." 

    For some reason that comment, kindly intended from a 
    friend, broke the facade he had maintained throughout 
    the party.  "A triumph," he said, "of typecasting.  Did 
    you hear Drake?  I wouldn't have even been considered if 
    they had had a black male in theater arts." 

    "There's Desmond," Kim said. 

    "Desmond," Angela said before he could, "is not an 
    Othello." 

    "Look," Kim said, "casting is one thing.  But the fact 
    is that your performance was a triumph tonight.  You 
    worked hard; you did well; I was proud of you." 

    "I'm glad," he said, not even trying to sound glad. 

    "Now, kids," Angela said, "be good.  This is a night for 
    celebration, not for argument."  She laughed.  "Be good.  
    And if you can't be good, be careful.  And if you can't 
    be careful...." 

    "We'll name it after you," Kim had finished.   


Not that they had been anywhere close to that.  (But, back 
then, they had hidden where they stopped from their friends even 
more carefully than they had hidden what they did from their 
parents.) 


    "Kimberly," he gasped.  She kissed him, and then the car 
    was stopped at the door to her apartment house. 

    Melissa was gone; she and Kim had some sort of 
    arrangement.  He kissed Kim for a while in the tiny 
    living room.  Soon, they moved into her bedroom.  He 
    unzipped her dress while kissing her deeply.  She moved 
    away to hang up the dress and slip.  He took the 
    opportunity to slip off his shoes, putting the socks 
    inside them next to the bedroom door.  She took her 
    shoes and pantyhose off as well.  He had to bend even 
    further to kiss her like that. 

    "I got two playbills this evening," she said.  The play 
    had been a university production -- theater arts hadn't 
    owned it.  And the University maintained a print shop.  
    Two playbills on one ticket wasn't been that much 
    cheating.  "I think that I will send one to my mom."  
    And the playbill had included an excellent (if small) 
    photo of him. 

    "How you communicate with your parents is your 
    decision."  Indeed, it was her issue.  She wanted his 
    race not to matter, but it did -- it had for every 
    minute of his life.  It would matter to her parents.  
    Well, the photo would take care of that. 

    Then she lay down, and that was much more comfortable.  
    He kissed all over her face, then her neck -- carefully 
    avoiding suck marks.  When he kissed down her chest, 
    she'raised herself so he could reach her bra strap.  Her 
    breasts were so white, and the nipples so pink.  He 
    arched over her, kissing them while she unbuttoned his 
    shirt.  After he'd thrown the shirt and tee-shirt 
    towards the back of a chair, they shared the longest 
    kiss.  Tongue met tongue; skin met skin; his clothed 
    legs pressed between her naked ones. 

    After he gave her breasts two quick kisses, she raised 
    her bottom while he pulled her panties down.  The hair 
    down there was lighter than the hair on her head.  The 
    sight was still delightful each time, the feel more so.  
    He rested on his left arm so that his mouth could move 
    from breast to breast while his fingers were busy 
    between her legs.  "Oh, John," she gasped while pulling 
    his hand against her even more firmly.  He pulled back 
    when she released him.  Then he kissed the smooth 
    whiteness of her breasts while she got her breath back. 

    When it was her turn -- or maybe his turn, she stripped 
    him and hung his trousers on the back of a chair and 
    tossed his shorts onto the seat.  She stopped, though, 
    with him in her hand.  The feeling was exquisite, but he 
    knew he wasn't going to get off with her holding still. 

    "Do you think," she said, "like Angela said, we 
    could...?  Could we be careful?" 

    "Oh, darling," he said.  He scrabbled to get the wallet 
    from his trousers and the condom he had kept there for 
    months from the wallet. 


And darling she'd been, and darling she still was.  He reached 
out a hand to caress her bottom.  Still watching the fish, she 
reached back and removed his hand.  She held it in hers.  Well, 
he'd take what he could get.  He squeezed the hand, and she 
squeezed back.  Des, presumably oblivious to her parents, was 
staring raptly into the fish tank.  She should be oblivious to 
her parents' squeezing hands; she was totally oblivious to their 
orders.  The male now swam back to the female and squeezed her 
again.  In sympathy, John squeezed Kim's hand.  He got a squeeze 
back, which was more than the fish got. 

Still, Kim had always been demonstrative. 


    When he got the condom on, he started to kiss her 
    breasts again.  He intended to get her excited all over 
    again before attempting entry.  She, however, broke them 
    apart to kiss him deeply.  Then she lay back with her 
    legs spread apart.  While he wondered whether that meant 
    what it seemed to mean, she reached over to gasp him.  
    "Now, John," she said "now!" 

    "Kimberly, darling Kimberly," he said, climbing between 
    her legs.  She placed him at the spot and pulled.  He 
    pressed forward, but it didn't go in.  He pressed 
    harder. 

    "Do it," she said and clawed his bottom with her other 
    hand.  Suddenly, he passed whatever block there had 
    been.  Even through the rubber, he felt her heat.  She 
    was incredibly *there*, all around him. 

    When he was fully in her, pressed against her mound, he 
    stopped.  "Are you all right?" he asked.  She didn't 
    look all right.  Inches from his face, hers was screwed 
    up in a grimace. 

    "Go, on," she' said.  And he did.  The first withdrawal 
    produced friction sweeter than any he had ever given 
    himself, sweeter even than her hands had given him.  
    Then he pushed forward again, pushed through slippery 
    tightness, pushed into his love.  Soon he sped up; the 
    tension driving him in and out at an ever faster pace.  
    Then he thrust into her harder than even the first 
    stroke.  He erupted into her warmth, and shot and shot. 

    "Oh, darling," he said minutes later.  He gathered 
    enough energy to kiss her and withdraw.  He fell onto 
    his back beside her.  His eyes turned to the center of 
    his sensation. 

    His cock was naked, except for his juices and a ring of 
    rubber around the base.  "Oh, Kim!" he said. 

    She obviously was looking at the same place.  "Next 
    time," she said, "I take care of the precautions." 

    His head was a mishmash of contradictory emotions.  He'd 
    done it; he'd goofed; he felt wonderfully drained; he 
    felt awfully guilty; he loved her; she'd said "next 
    time"!  


The fish spat out an egg towards the nest.  He squeezed Kim's 
hand again.  The buzzer sounded; somebody was at the door.  While 
he went to answer it, Des dived for her shoes.  Justin was 
downstairs, and his father was in the car. 

"It's Justin," he called.  "Shall I ask him up to watch your 
fish?"  The kids would be late; Justin's father would have to 
park the car, not so easy in this neighborhood.  Still this was 
an event. 

                              - = - 

"Daddy!"  How could her dad think she'd invite a boy up to 
watch her fish having sex.  She'd long ago learned that her 
parents were clueless, but *that* clueless? 

"Breakfast!" said her mom.  Food was her first priority. 

"Skip it."  They would be late. 

"I'll make you a sandwich."  She'd take it.  It was faster 
than arguing.  Actually, she knew, she'd eat it.  Her mom gave 
her two meatloaf sandwiches as she got to the door.  They were in 
a freezer bag, and they were cut in halves.  Her mom would cut 
sandwiches if the house was on fire.  Still, it would make 
sharing with Justin easier. 

"Thanks, mom," she said.  "Can you put Mike back in her tank?  
Bye, dad." 

"Love you," they both called as she ran down the stairs. 

                              - = - 

John listened carefully until he heard the door at the foot of 
the stairs click.  Then he closed and locked the apartment door.  
"And I love you, too."  He kissed Kim deeply, exploring the 
familiar mouth with his tongue.  He pulled her against him by 
that lovely bottom .  Then, for good measure, he moved his hands 
up her sides to her breasts. 

"Got to move the fish," said Kim after pulling away.  "And 
then I have to shower.  Des will be gone for hours, we can take 
our time." 

"I don't mind taking our time.  I just want to kiss my wife."  
He did again.  Kim, despite her words, cooperated in the kiss.  
This time *her* hands were on his bottom; her tongue licked 
his.  She broke away, though.  He followed her back to Des's 
room. 

"Now," she said, "which one is Mike?" 

"The male, probably.  'Pat' can be either gender."  Of course, 
telling the sexes apart isn't easy with fish.  One of them darted 
at the other.  Kim netted the escapee with the small tool that 
Des used for that purpose.  In seconds, she had returned it to 
its own tank.  She headed for their room and the bathroom beyond 
it. 

He headed down the hall to the kitchen.  Real French toast was 
a treat.  He could mix up the coating now and heat up the pan 
whenever they wanted to eat. 

                              - = - 

She took her time in the shower.  She put jelly on the 
diaphragm and inserted it.  Once again, she was thankful that 
they had taken an apartment with two baths.  She could store what 
she wanted in this medicine cabinet without worrying about 
explaining it to Des. 

She put on the robe but not the nightgown.  She knew what he 
would want; for that matter, she wanted it too.  They never made 
too big a public fuss about their wedding anniversary, less than 
six months before Des's corresponding birthday.  Since their 
celebrations were private, they celebrated what they privately 
enjoyed about being married. 

John was lying in bed when she got out of the bathroom.  The 
clothes he'd worn so briefly were piled on his dresser.  "You 
aren't dressed," she said.  "What if I want to go out to eat as 
an anniversary celebration?" 

"Which celebration do you want?  A diner breakfast, or dinner 
in a Thai restaurant?  Besides, the French toast is ready except 
for the bread." 

"Well, it is time for breakfast."  She turned towards the 
bedroom door. 

"You don't intend to eat in your bathrobe, do you?" 

"If you're going to be like that...."  She removed the robe 
without revealing herself to his gaze.  Then, slowly, she moved 
it around so that he got a view of her from behind.  Slowly she 
pranced towards the door. 

He laughed.  "Someday, I'm going to let you go.  I'd love to 
see you frying French toast with all that skin exposed." 

"Well, now that you mention it, that would be dangerous.  I 
suppose I have to go back to bed."  Slowly, she turned 
around. 

"Woman, you are still beautiful."  She had never been 
beautiful.  She had long ago lost the youthful prettiness which 
had characterized her when they had first met. 

"I wasn't beautiful when you married me." 

"All brides are beautiful.  My bride was more beautiful than 
most, and beautiful in places I haven't seen in other 
brides." 

She climbed into bed and gave him a kiss.  "I love how you 
talk.  I don't believe it, but I love it." 

He tossed the covers down and kicked them off.  They were 
lying beside each other wearing nothing but their rings.  He 
kissed her ring finger.  "Thank you for accepting me." 

She kissed his mouth again, this time her tongue entered it.  
His met it, and the two tasted each other.  "Thank you for 
proposing to me." 


    She came to him with her worries.  His answer was 
    immediate.  "Will you marry me?"  After she'd accepted, 
    he continued.  "If you're right, it should be as soon as 
    practical.  If you are wrong, we'll need to plan better.  
    Either way, you said 'yes.'  I'll hold you to that 
    unless you take it back." 


Now he said, "You were so clever with that fishnet."  He 
kissed her fingers one by one; then he kissed her left palm; then 
he kissed her right palm.  He continued up her wrist. 

"Always thinking," she said.  She kissed his forehead. 

"The way you nourished Des."  He kissed her right breast, then 
the left.  He sucked and licked at that nipple until she felt 
even the right one harden. 

"Way back then, I was so proud when you strode the stage and 
people were hanging on your every word."  She kissed his mouth.  
He petted her thighs while they prolonged that kiss. 

"The first year, your schooling interrupted, Des still a baby, 
you walked miles every day waiting on those tables."  Well, she 
had worked with other organs, too; but she appreciated his kisses 
on her thighs.  The licks and sucks down there sent thrills up to 
her belly. 

"Your tongue has always thrilled me," she said.  He came up in 
the bed to rest on his elbows on both sides of her arms.  She 
kissed his mouth and sucked on his tongue.  His erection was 
pressed between their bellies.  Her nipples were firm against his 
chest. 

"And," John said, "you gave me Desdemona."  He kissed her 
nether lips before his tongue licked where their baby had come 
out.  The game of thanks was over; now came serious business.  
One hand played with her breast while the other roved over her 
thigh and butt.  He licked up, almost to her clitoris, and then 
down.  Despite their nakedness in the airconditioned apartment, 
she wasn't cold.  Indeed, all this attention was heating her 
up. 

He rubbed the bottoms of her outer lips against one another 
while his tongue was licking all around her clitoris.  When his 
tongue finally found the spot, he inserted two fingers into her.  
She planted her feet firmly on the bed and pushed her groin up to 
meet his face. 

She felt him moving his fingers inside her, felt them hit 
paydirt.  "Yes, John," she said.  His fingers and tongue, even 
his hand on her breast, were kindling flames deep inside her.  
"Oh darling," she said. 

Then, the flames burst within her, and she was too busy to 
feel anything.  It went on and on, taking more and more of her, 
consuming her utterly.  She arched mindlessly, writhing in 
ecstasy. 

Suddenly, it was over.  She lay there gasping while John lay 
with his head on her thigh.  He clasped one butt cheek with the 
hand that was down there. 

"Oh love," she said finally. 

"I love you," he responded. 

She managed to sit up in bed.  At her pressure on his 
shoulder, he lay down flat.  "And *you*," she said, "gave me 
Desdemona."  She rubbed her cheek against his chest on her way to 
her target.  His cock bobbed, knowing what was coming.  She took 
the head into her mouth, letting it go with a soft kiss.  Already 
firm, it arched upward after that kiss. 

"And, long ago," he said, "you gave me yourself."  This 
comment was new.  So was the second kiss to her now-tender 
labia. 

When he drew back, she turned onto her left side.  He lay 
behind her with his cock pressing against her.  She raised up on 
her elbow and reached her right hand down between her legs.  She 
helped him in.  His entry was slow and gentle, filling her.  She 
was so full, so delightfully full. 

He slid his arm under her to cup her left breast.  He held her 
right one for a moment before smoothing it down her ribs and 
belly to her mound.  He played with her hair there for a moment, 
meanwhile moving in and out once. 

When she raised her leg, he pressed his fingers against the 
front of her labia.  He kissed her shoulder and the back of her 
neck.  Then he stroked in and out slowly.  Meanwhile, one hand 
strummed her nipple while a finger of the other hand found her 
clit. 

She was close, so close.  She could feel the tension build and 
wondered briefly whether she felt different to him. 

"I love you, Kim," he said.  Which answered that question.  
"Oh, Kim.  Oh, Kim - ber - ly!"  On his last drawn-out word, she 
exploded.  He sped, moving harder and faster within her 
pulsating, red-hot, depths. 

As she came down from her climax, she felt him pulsing within 
her. 

They lay quietly for some time, neither saying a word.  She 
could feel his breath on her back.  She could feel him slowly 
easing out of her.  When he finally was out, she felt him drip a 
trail of liquid down her thigh.  Later, more liquid oozed out of 
her and trailed down her left hip. 

Whatever the mess, she was too content to move.  She could lie 
in his arms forever. 

"A little while ago, I thought of Angela," John said.  An odd 
topic and one hell of a time to mention it. 

"My sister," she said, "can roast in hell." 

"She'd have to die first."  Kim didn't see a problem there.  
"But I mean the other one, the theater-arts major." 

Now, there was a better person to think of.  The other Angela 
had come to visit when Des was only a few days old.  "Oh, Kim," 
she'd said, "she's precious." 


    "You know," she continued, "I've been counting back."  
    All their friends had been, probably; none had mentioned 
    it before then.  "You did, didn't you?  Name her after 
    me?" 

    Kim didn't answer.  Maybe she blushed.  She thought to 
    explain why another Angela in her family would have been 
    unthinkable.  But her guest didn't look put out, quite 
    the contrary.  "Oh Kim!  May I hold her?" 

    At a nod, she picked Des up, being careful to brace her 
    neck.  She cradled her and cooed. 


Yes, that Angela had deserved the name. 

They lay content, thinking their own thoughts, until her 
stomach rumbled.  John laughed.  "Breakfast?" he asked. 


The End 
Fish Tank
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
2002/08/03
2003/04/21
2004/04/16
2005/05/09


A different sort of wedding is involved in:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/Gjt/bla_03f.htm
"Morning Has Broken"  

This story is indexed in:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/wl.htm
Wedded Lust 


The list of all my stories is at:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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20050509131002
