## Archive-name: rings2

From: sbd@douglass (S. B. Douglass)

Subject: STORY (repost): Rings II

Keywords: Sequel Heterosexual Outdoor Romance Piercing

Newsgroups: alt.sex

This story is a sequel to Rings, originally posted in early 1990. The first part was a Jesse Helms story, barely conforming to the norms that the honorable Senator advocates. This followup doesn't conform to those norms.

The story has been slightly revised for reposting.

Rings II
by
S. B. Douglass

I woke up on the morning of July 4 from a deliciously horny dream, only to find that it wasn't a dream. I was flat on my back, on the verge of an orgasm, and my cock stood stiffly between my legs while my new wife gently nibbled on it and teased it with her tongue. Her long hair fell over her head and tickled my stomach, and it wasn't hard for me to set aside my misgivings about oral sex and enjoy what she was doing.

My hips had been gently pumping when I woke up, and I reached down to run my fingers through her hair as I continued to thrust my cock at her mouth. I was ready to come, but she just teased me, keeping me on the edge without letting me come. My excitement was on the edge of turning to pain when she stopped teasing.

She slid her mouth down over my cock, working it with her tongue as she slid down, then gently blowing as she slid back up. I was ready to explode, but she managed to do it again three times, each time sliding farther down the shaft of my cock before she came back up.

When I came, it was like nothing I've ever felt before, and it was a while before I could do more than just lie there on my back and look at my wife's head resting between my legs. She continued to suck gently on my cock as it shrank, and she only let go when I asked her to.

"Good morning Anne," I said. "That was nice, but I've got to pee, can I have my cock back?"

She let go of it and sat up, kneeling straddling my legs. "Good morning my new hubby. I hope you slept as well as I did."

"I slept well," I said, looking at her and at the amazing collection of rings she wore through her body. She'd explained the 23 rings she wore in each ear the day we met, but she'd managed to keep the ring she wore in each tit and the six additional rings she wore in her cunt a secret until yesterday when she surprised me by accepting my offer of marriage.

I knew she had far more experience with sex than I had; she'd had a ring put in for each man she and her old roommate had seduced together. She hadn't seduced me though; before yesterday, we hadn't as much as kissed. I'd been asking her to marry me almost daily for months; it had started as a joke when we were attending a survivors of AIDS support group, but I'd grown serious as time passed. I'd almost given up, though, when she surprised me by accepted my offer.

That was yesterday, July 3, and she'd shocked me by hauling me straight to the courthouse, taking out a marriage license, and finding a judge to marry us on the spot. I'd found out about all her rings within an hour of that.

"Do you always wake up your men that way?" I asked as I sat up.

"I try," she said, then giggled. "A couple years ago, Janet and I tried seeing how long we could go on a diet of nothing but semin. It's pretty nutritional, you know, but we gave up after a week."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I got up and went to the toilet to pee. Anne's loft, now our loft, had no walls, the toilet was in a back corner, along with a sink, tub, and bidet. They were expensive looking fixtures; their matching red enamel contrasted elegantly with the white plaster walls and hardwood floor, but the idea of peeing while my new wife watched bothered me, and she did nothing to help. She stood at the sink and combed her hair while she watched.

She kept me at least part-way off balance for the rest of the day, but in the end, that only added to the fun. She wouldn't let me get dressed after breakfast, saying that she never bothered to wear anything around the house. She told me that as long as I was living with her, I'd have to get used to it.

When I suggested that she call her old roommate Janet and tell about our wedding, she did, but after a few minutes on the phone, she surprised me by handing me the phone. I knew that she and Janet were more than ex roommates. They'd been lovers and they'd been partners in love with many men; as a result, I wasn't quite sure what I should say to Janet.

She certainly didn't share my unease. I said hello, then asked how she was. As the words came out, I could have kicked myself. I knew she had AIDS, and I felt like a cad as I realized how awful it was to ask such a question to someone who was terminally ill. She answered politely that she was doing about as well as could be expected, given her situation, then got down to business.

"Anne told me lots about you over the past six months," she said. "It's hard as hell for me to imagine her getting married, but after I got AIDS I guess we've both changed alot."

I wasn't sure what she was getting at. I knew that she'd come down with AIDS six month's ago, and I knew that Anne must have been exposed to it at the time Janet caught it, since they'd made a game of openly sharing all of their sexual partners.

While Janet talked, I watched Anne walk over to her workbench and begin doing something. She was pretty to watch from behind as she opened a box on the bench and began looking through its contents.

"Look," she said. "What I'm getting at is this. I still love Anne, and now that I can't make love to her and with her any more, I want to make damn sure she has fun. Tell her to quit this new puritan thing, she can stick to one man for sex, but that doesn't mean she has to dress like a nun. Tell her to dress right, go out, have fun. Give her the love she needs," she paused. "Want to know what really turns her on?"

"Tell me," I said.

"Oral sex, eat her, bring her to the edge and keep her there. I've kept her on the edge for hours, not letting her come until the very end. Do it to her, if it grosses you out, do it for me, please?"

"OK," I said, more out of politeness than commitment, and then she hung up. I didn't have time to think about what Janet had asked me to do because at that point, Anne turned back to me from her workbench.

I'd been idly watching Anne's back while I was on the phone, but I hadn't really paid any attention to what she was doing. When she turned around after I hung up, I couldn't ignore what she'd done. Anne was a jewelry designer, and now she was showing me some of her work.

"What?" I said, looking at her. She had a large gold ring in her nose, big enough to frame her mouth, she had a gold stud in the center of her upper lip, additional rings in her tits, and something shiny filling her belly button. More jewelry hung between her legs, and there were even a couple of rings through the webs between her fingers.

As she posed for me, I realized that I'd noticed some of her piercings before, but I'd misinterpreted them. I'd assumed that the hole in her lip was a pimple scar, never imagining that it went all the way through.

"You should see yourself," she said, chuckling. "I guess I owe you an explanation, though. Most of my jewelry is sold through what they call alternate jewelry stores; some is very sexual, and most of it is intended to be worn in very unconventional places.

As she spoke, I saw a flash from her mouth. "What's in your mouth?"

She smiled, clearly exposing a silver bead set in her tongue. "My tongue tack started as more of a technical experiment than a serious piece of jewelry, I wanted to see if I could make something I could wear in the most sensitive part of my body without problems, and I did; like it?"

"Yes," I said, somewhat surprised.

"Tell me if any of this other stuff grosses you out," she said, and then began a guided tour. I think that if she hadn't started my day with an orgasm, I'd have wanted sex on the spot when she showed me the ring she wore through a hole in her clit. A small gold ball hung by a short chain from the ring, and she said it had only one use, and that was to intensify the sensations of lovemaking.

"You've got kinkier tastes than I credited you for," she said when she was done.

I shook my head. "I've got kinkier tastes than I credited me for! Do you really intend to go out in public wearing all that stuff?"

She chucklied. "I have in the past, but I'll tone it down until you're ready to play at shocking the teaming millions. Come on, let's get dressed so we can visit your place, but do me a big favor, don't wear underpants, they just get in the way."

She'd told me that she never wore underwear, and with the rings in her tits and cunt, I could see why; even so, I felt awkward about the idea of my going without. The mention of getting dressed reminded me of what Janet had said, though, so I passed on her advice. "Janet said I should tell you to dress right from now on. No more new puritan stuff."

She'd told me that before Janet came down with AIDS, the two of them had made a point of dressing to attract men, but it was another thing to see what she meant. She looked through her dresser while I hesitated about putting on my pants without underwear, then turned so I could see as she slid into a tight white spandex miniskirt. It was hardly long enough to cover her fanny, and when she knelt to put her sandals on, I could see a sparkle below the hemline as the rings in her cunt came into view.

She ended up putting on a loose white camisole top over the skirt, and I had to agree that she looked very sexy. I was surprised that she didn't look outright tacky; most explicitly sexy clothing I've seen is pretty awful. I told her that I felt awkward about what her clothing exposed when she did anything but stand upright, and her effort at reassuring me wasn't very reassuring.

"I know exactly what my clothing lets people see," she said. "They see what I want them to see."

Our day turned practical for a while, giving me a bit of a chance to get used to my new situation. We had to decide where to live now that we were married. After she'd taken off all the odd jewelry that showed when she was dressed, I took her over to my apartment. I'd never been to her place before our wedding day, and this was her first visit to my place.

"Not bad," she said, looking over my paperback collection.

She paused, looking critically at an Escher print hanging on my wall, and I noticed that she was gently rocking her hips. The motion was odd, almost what I'd expect if she were making love.

"Why are you bobbing your hips like that?" I asked.

She turned to me with a sly smile. "I'm masturbating," she said.

I began to get hard, even though I was confused. "What?"

"Bouncing my clit chain against my skirt," she said. "It feels good, good enough that I can usually bring myself to orgasm that way if I keep it up. Want to make love?"

"OK," I said. I was already rock hard as I led her to my bedroom.

She was out of her clothes before I'd unzipped my pants, and she didn't seem to need any foreplay. As soon as I pulled off my jeans and sat down on the bed, she sat in my lap and and took me into herself. I leaned back on my bed, startled, and looked up at her in awe.

"Here," she said, looking down at me with a blissful look on her face and fingering the chain that emerged from between us. "Play with this, gently."

I touched the fine chain tentatively, and then gently tugged on the bead at the free end. The other end was attached to her clit, and if the bounce of the chain against her skirt was enough, I was pretty sure that I wouldn't have to play very hard.

"Good," she breathed, and then began to sway as she sat on my hips. "I like that."

I scratched my fingernail along the chain, and she looked ecstatic. I could feel her vagina clamping on my cock. I was fascinated by her reaction. I knew that women had clits, but I'd never had such direct access to a woman's clit while I was making love. The look on her face was something I'd never seen before, and then she moaned, quietly and deep in her throat.

She lifted her hands and began fingering the rings in her breasts, and then moaned again. I'd been so fascinated by her reaction that I'd been ignoring the waves of contractions in her vagina, but as she continued gently rocking on top of me, my attention was drawn to the sensation of my cock deep inside her, and then I exploded. Waves of contractions coursed through my loins, lights flashed before my eyes, and I was in heaven for one brief but wonderful moment.

"I love you," she said, smiling down at me as I recovered.

I couldn't say anything in reply. She bent down to kiss me, letting the rings in her tits drag briefly on my chest, and then she got off of me. "We've got work to do," she said, "but first, hubby, let's eat lunch and talk our way through what we're going to do with our lives."

We ate lunch in my apartment, and over lunch, we talked about the pros and cons of our places. Neither of us liked the apartment complex I'd lived in for the last five years and her loft clearly had more space. On the other hand, her loft wasn't conventional, with its lack of walls around the bathroom area and its location above a bookstore in an old business district, it was hard for me to imagine myself living there.

She talked me into it, though. My last objection was that it would be awkward to invite guests into a place with no private bathroom. I gave in when she asked how many guests I'd entertained in my apartment; I realized I'd never invited anyone in but the girlfriends I'd lived with, and the last of those had moved out more than a year ago when she began to show AIDS symptoms; it turned out she'd gotten it from her previous lover, and I was damned lucky to have come away uninfected.

We hauled two carloads of my stuff to her place, enough to let me live comfortably for a few days while we decided what to do with the rest of our stuff. It was a hot day, though, so we called it quits after we unloaded both of our cars at her place.

"It's a holiday," Anne said, sitting on her windowsill. "Let's go for a swim, then eat that picnic dinner we were planning. Isn't there a pool at the park where the city's having the fireworks display?"

"Yes, but," I sputtered. "Unless you take those rings out of your tits and cunt, how can you wear a swimsuit? You told me that you and Janet welded your rings so they were permanent!"

She chuckled. "What I'm wearing now is legal in the pool, the skirt was even sold as swimwear. I've got a swimsuit you'll like, though. Grab a towel and your suit while I get mine, then let's pack up a picnic supper and go."

We drove to the park, and as expected, had trouble finding a parking space. The locker room at the pool was busy, but my mind was on my new wife as I changed; I hardly noticed the other people in the men's locker room. I did notice others out on the pool deck, though. There'd been a debate the previous summer about thong swimsuits at public pools, and thongs had won out, but barely. More than a few were in evidence, and I enjoyed watching the bare flesh that was exposed as a result.

"How do you like it," Anne said from behind me.

I turned and looked. She wore a white bikini; not particularly modest but not unusually revealing. There was no evidence of the rings in her tits or between her legs.

"Wow," I said. "But where are your rings? I thought they'd show."

"They do, a bit," Anne said, smiling. "Come on, let's swim."

She was a good swimmer, and we ended up swimming into the early evening. I mean swimming, too, not just lounging in the water or "catching rays" on the pool deck. When the pool lights came on, we realized that we'd been in the water for hours and that the fireworks would start soon.

We hurried to get dressed, tossed our wet towels in the car, and grabbed our picnic supplies for a late dinner before the fireworks. Fortunately we hadn't brought anything that needed cooking, just a cooler of drinks and sandwiches. We found a good spot for a picnic under a lone oak tree on top of a small hill. It promised a good view of the fireworks while being far enough away to avoid the worst of the crowd.

While we were swimming, Anne worked me hard enough to make me ignore her rings and her apparently unlimited interest in sex, but as she bent over to spread our picnic blanket and get a sandwich for herself, it hit me again. The hem of her tight white spandex skirt rose high enough that I saw the bottoms of the rings between her legs and the gold bead at the end of the chain from her clit, and when she leaned over the cooler, her camisole fell away from her chest enough that I could clearly see the rings in her tits.

While she ate, we sat cross legged on the blanket facing each other, and she smiled when she noticed me looking at the exposed hardware between her legs. As she finished her sandwich, she leaned back on one hand and took a sip of her drink, then shocked me by using her free hand to toy with the gold bead that hung from her clit.

"Anne," I said, feeling my cock harden as I watched her. "We're in the park surrounded by people, don't you care who sees what you're doing? You could get arrested!"

She smiled coyly at me as she continued to tug at the bead. "I care to let you see; nobody else sees anything but a pretty girl who's relaxing with one hand resting on her thigh; besides, it's almost dark enough that I could take all my clothes off without anyone noticing."

Just then, the fireworks began. While we packed up the remains of our picnic, I wondered if she was seriously threatening to undress. She wasn't; she turned out to have other ideas. I leaned my back against the trunk of our oak tree, and she sat next to me and snuggled against my side while we watched the show.

I held my arm around her, while she rested a hand on my thigh, and after a few minutes, she put her free hand over mine and slid it up under her camisole. It was nice holding my hand on the bare skin of her side, but that wasn't what she wanted. She nudged my hand up towards her tit and slid her other hand up my thigh to fondle my cock.

I experimented tentatively with the ring in her tit, and she nuzzled my neck gently and then whispered in my ear. "Unzip your pants."

I did, expecting her to slip a finger or two in to touch my cock. She had other ideas. She shifted herself into my lap, leaned back against my chest, and rested for a moment while she enjoyed the show. It was a good fireworks show, but she was better. I played with her tits and the rings she wore in them with both hands for a while while we both watched the fireworks, and then she reached a hand between her legs and pulled my cock free of my pants.

Somehow, she managed to slip it into her cunt before it was fully erect, and then she started to squirm, very slowly and gently. She leaned her head on my shoulder and when there was a pause in the fireworks display, she whispered. "Good?"

"Nice," I whispered, "but everyone can see us!"

She chuckled. "They're watching the fireworks, silly; besides, there's not much to see."

I continued to play with her tits while she gently squirmed, and despite my misgivings, I was very excited. My cock felt huge, and every move Anne made sent a shiver of exquisite pleasure through me. I was out of control, unable to thrust or withdraw as she sat on me, but with every thundering flash of the fireworks, I could feel her body vibrate against my cock, exciting me even more.

As the fireworks reached their thundering finale, I came; the sensation of Anne's cunt engulfing my cock was overwhelming, even more so than the continuous stream of concussions from the fireworks. I shuddered and heaved under Anne, then collapsed back against the tree behind me.

My body was spent and my mind was reeling as I leaned against the tree in the deafening silence after the fireworks finale. People applauded the show, and Anne joined them from my lap, then gently slid off my cock and tucked it back into my pants before she stood up.

Anne stood over me, and I looked up and studied her by the light of the distant streetlights. I was flustered and a bit confused by what we'd just done, but my new wife looked calm and happy. She held out her hand to help me up after I'd stared at her for a while, then picked up our stuff and led me back to the car.

"That was great," she said as she unlocked the car, "but stop gawking at me and zip up your pants."

Last modified (10/10/96 15:06:11) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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