THE MEASURE OF MAN

An Epic by Gil Gamesh

Chapter One

As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in your embrace; for this too is the measure of man.

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CAST OF CHARACTERS:
Kieran Connor Stuart, 33 in story, 25 in flashback; Siobhan (Kelly) Stuart, 32 in story, 24 in flashback; Kavan Kelly Stuart, 6 in story; Arial Erin Stuart, 4 in story; Kerry Lee Stuart, one month from birth as story is told

TELLING THE STORY:
Kieran Stuart, Siobhan Stuart

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(KIERAN)

“Kieran, would you bathe the kids tonight?” Siobhan asked.

“The full treatment?”

“Yes. They need it.”

“OK.”

I knew they needed a good bath. Kavan and Arial had played outdoors most of the afternoon while I was working in the yard. Siobhan had sat in a lawn chair in the shade, trying to be comfortable with our third child almost full term and kicking in her. I’d watched our kids as they played with a neighbor’s two kids, rolling in the grass, turning flips, and chasing each other until they were sweaty and exhausted.

I carried Arial into the house and on into the bathroom. She smelled like a wet puppy. Siobhan followed with Kavan holding her hand. The little house had an old bathtub, hardly large enough for one, but it had a large separate shower. Siobhan and I could enjoy the shower together or one of us could shower with both kids. As she grew larger and larger with the baby, I was usually the one who bathed them in the tub or showered with them.
 
I stripped Arial while Siobhan helped Kavan. They were dressed almost the same - socks and sneakers, briefs, shorts, and shirt. The only difference was the fly in Kavan’s briefs where, if he didn’t wait too long, he’d drag his little dick out before he peed. I could never understand why he’d wait until the last second and then dance in front of the commode trying to find it. All too often, his aim wasn’t as good as it needed to be and I had to clean up after him. Arial was never like that. She always quietly slid her little panties down and sat on the commode with her legs together while she peed.

Kavan didn’t wait to be told this time. He walked over to the commode and lifted the seat. He held his dick with both hands and squirted down neatly for once. He even put the seat back down for Arial. She took her turn without a word and looked like a princess on her throne as she did it. I took my turn while the kids watched as usual. I looked over at Siobhan, leaning against the wall, and she was watching the three of us, a big smile on her face.

“I’ll fix us something for supper,” she said. “Do you kids want PB and J?”

It was their favorite Saturday night meal, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with a class of milk and some fruit. She got two ‘yeahs’ in response to her question.

“What do you want, Kieran?” she asked.

“Anything. Whatever you’re having,” I answered, and she left us.

I gave the kids the full treatment – shampooed Arial’s golden curls and Kavan’s red tangles first, then washed their soft skin with a soapy cloth, and rinsed them thoroughly before I took my turn.   They played around and between my legs while I washed. As usual, Arial watched closely when I washed my genitals, especially when I slid my foreskin back and washed the head of my penis.

I dried them first and they both turned around so I could smack them on their beautiful butts as I usually did before they ran off to find their mother. I dried off, combed my hair, and went down the hall to the kitchen.

Siobhan made grilled cheese sandwiches for us. It was one of my favorites, especially with extra-sharp cheddar cheese. She gave me a dark beer with mine and had a glass of milk with hers. I’d brought a washcloth from the bathroom to wipe up the kids after they finished their PB and J.

“Dad, why did Kavan’s penis get stiff when you washed it?” Arial asked out of the blue.

“It’s my dick, Arial,” Kavan said. “It gets stiff when Dad pulls my foreskin back and washes it. It feels good.”

“Well, Dad pulled his foreskin back and washed his and it didn’t get stiff,” she said to Kavan.

I thought Siobhan was going to spit out the mouthful of milk she’d just taken. She managed to swallow before she laughed.

“I’ve told you kids why that happens,” I said. “It’s so a man can put his penis, his dick, in a woman’s vagina and make his semen come out. There are little bitty swimmers in semen and one of them finds a woman’s egg and that makes a baby.”

“Is that what you did to Mom?” Arial asked.

“Yeah, Arial, you dummy,” Kavan said. “That’s the way Mom and Dad made us. That’s the way they made the new baby.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“No, Princess,” Siobhan said. “It doesn’t hurt. It feels good. Now you two finish your supper and let your Dad read to you before you go to sleep.”

“Can we sleep with you?” Kavan asked.

“Not tonight, Son,” I answered. “Your Mom’s having a little trouble resting with the baby so big. She doesn’t need you two rolling around and bumping into her.”

“Can I sleep with Kavan?” Arial asked. “With no clothes on?” 

“You can if you’ll be good after I read to you,” I said. “No wrestling, no cutting up, just be quiet and good and go to sleep? Promise?”

They both promised. Sometimes they actually kept their promise.

<><><>

It was early but we went to bed just as soon as I finished reading to Kavan and Arial.  Our bedroom was dark and we were quiet, resting, curled up together spoon fashion. We were both naked, as close together as could be.  My hand was curled around Siobhan, holding her breast. It was already swollen, ready to become a milk source in about a month.  My cock, soft but warm and swollen, was pressed against her. I wondered if the time had come to stop having sex with her and start settling for the poor substitute of my hand again.

As was usual now, Siobhan was resting on her side, with a long pillow between her knees and partly under her distended belly.

“Are you sleepy yet?” I asked.

“No, Kieran,” she replied, “just a wee bit tired.”

“Mind if I talk to you?” I asked.

She snuggled back against me a little more. “You know it’s OK.  That’s one of the things I like most about going to bed like this. So we can be together here in the dark and talk to each other.”

“Yeah,” I said, “talking is nice.  But I want to talk about something that’s one of the best parts of marriage.”

“All the sex you want? She asked.

“That’s important. But doing what we’re doing now means just as much to me.”

“We’re not doing anything, Kieran.”

“Nothing? Your butt up against me, with nothing between us, curling up together like this, with my hand on your breast - that’s nothing?”

“I apologize, Kieran; I think I do feel a little something.”

“That’s my dick, Siobhan. I’m talking about how this makes me feel.”

“Horny?”

“Come on, Siobhan, be serious,” I said. “When we go to sleep like this, spooned up, I’m as content as I’ve ever been in my life.”

“I hope we’ll feel the same when we’re sixty,” she said, sighing. “I can hardly imagine it. I guess our sex life will cool off as we get older.  I hope just being close and held like this will still make me happy at that age.”

“Even if I’m bald and have false teeth?” I joked.

“If you’re worried about your teeth, get up and floss,” she answered.

“How do you and the baby feel?” I asked.

 “The baby’s quiet now,” she answered. “I’m glad he’s stopped playing trampoline on my bladder.  I’m fine too.  Whether you believe it or not, this third pregnancy has been the easiest of all.”

We had agreed to stop after two children.  We didn’t know how this one was conceived, three years after the last one, with Siobhan on the pill.   We both loved the first two. We couldn’t have wanted children more perfect than Kavan and Arial.  Even if this one wasn’t planned, I was still as happy to be having this one as I was with the others.

“Are you OK with having this little accident?”

“You don’t need to worry about me resenting my child,” Siobhan answered.  “I wish you could understand what it means to me to be a mother. It’s like virgins and sex.  Virgins can never imagine what sex is like until they do it.”

“Speaking of sex, is it time for us to stop? I know your doctor says it’s OK as long as I’m not on top of you when you’re this far along.  But he did say I ought to be careful about how deep I stick it in. Do you still enjoy doing it with me?”

She reached her hand around her protruding belly, between her legs, and found the end of my cock.  She pushed back the foreskin to uncover the head and rubbed it just under the head.  I could feel an immediate response as it began to swell and lengthen.

“Silly,” she answered, “of course I still enjoy it.  I can’t think of a time when I haven’t.  You’re a wonderful lover. All I could want.  We’ve been married eight years and I think it’s as good now as it was the first time.”

We were quiet then resting in the dark but not yet ready to go to sleep.  She continued to play with my cock down between her legs until it was fully erect. Finally she reached down, moved her hips somehow, and tucked the head of my penis into her.  She was already wet and receptive.

“Would you just put it in and then hold still?” she asked.  “I just want to feel you inside me for a while.  I’ll tell you when I’m ready for you to fuck me. Don’t worry if I don’t get off.  Lying this way, I don’t think you can get it in deep enough to hurt the baby.”

We were both quiet for a while. I wondered what she was thinking. I was thinking about how we’d met and joined together years ago.

“Do you remember how we met and then got married? I think about it a lot and how lucky I was to find you. I wonder sometimes what my life would’ve been like if I’d been stupid enough to lose you.”

“Yes,” she whispered, “I remember it well.  And that’s a line from Hermione Gingold, not Maurice Chevalier.”

“Would you tell me a good-night story?” I asked. “Tell me what you remember about it.”

“Well, I certainly remember some of the things you did. I suppose you’d call them horseplay.”

“Like what?” I asked, “I think you enjoyed kidding around as much as I did.”

“Like the time we were coming down in the elevator with a bunch of our co-workers and you were standing in front of me, looking down my dress. You started humming that tune that says something about umm, umm, good.”

“That’s not as bad as what you did once when we went out to dinner with some of those same people.”

“I guess I’ve forgotten that,” she responded.  “What was it I did?”

“We were sitting side by side and, just about the time we were finished, you put your hand on my leg and moved it up until you touched my dick.  You knew what the reaction would be when you gave it a few squeezes.  I got an erection and, when the others left, I had to beg you to stay a little longer, pretending I wanted to talk to you.  What I wanted was for my hard-on to disappear so I could get up and walk out.”

“Oh, yes, I remember,” she said.  Even though I couldn’t see her face I knew she hadn’t forgotten and was just teasing me.

“Now, come on,” I said, “Tell me what you really felt and thought when we first met and got to know each other. OK?”

“OK,” she sighed deeply again and started. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you, the first time I saw you.  It might’ve been woman’s intuition but I had a feeling then that we’d be together the rest of our lives. Are you sure you want to hear this from my perspective?”

I poked her gently, without saying a word, and she began her story.

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(SIOBHAN)

We both worked for a company in positions that required us to go out of town occasionally. In March, there were five of us on an assignment: two women and three men. One of the men was married and had brought along his new wife, so there were three women in total.  The other two guys were single, good-looking, and very intelligent, but one was, I suspected, probably gay.  The other of the single guys was the one I married later that year.

We were at work together when he asked me, “Siobhan, would you go out to dinner with me tonight?”

“Just the two of us?” I questioned. “I sort of expected to go with the group again.”

“I mean just the two of us. Someone told me about a Cuban restaurant that’s very good. I’d like to go with you, just you, this time.”

I looked him directly in the eyes. I had noticed before that he had beautiful hazel eyes, appearing sometimes brown, sometimes green, and held his gaze for a moment.

“I should warn you I’m not interested in a casual relationship.” 

“That’s an interesting answer, evasive but interesting,” he said. “Would you care to expand on that?”

“I just mean I’m not interested in starting down a path that’s going nowhere. Too many of you guys seem to be looking for a bed-warmer. I’ve no desire to start something with a guy who’s looking for nothing but fun and games, who wants to avoid the possibility of a serious relationship.”

“Siobhan,” he said, earnestly, “I’m twenty five years old. I’ve screwed around more than a little. I even thought I was in love once. Every other time I knew there was no chance of any permanent commitment. I’ve been thinking about what I really want. I’m looking for a different relationship this time. I guess I’d like to find one that might grow into real love, a lasting commitment, a family, all the things I’ve never had with a woman before.”

This time he looked into my eyes, solemnly, and continued. “You know I’ve been thinking about you for some time. You know I’m attracted to you. I’ve made a fool of myself more than once around you. The other guys have started kidding me about it. I know you’re aware of that, aren’t you?”

I smiled at him, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. “Why don’t you ask Janet?  You know you’re a very handsome man and she certainly knows it. She was sitting behind you yesterday when you dropped that stack of papers and, when you bent over to pick them up, her eyes never left your rear end. She even commented last night about what a cute little butt you have.”

With his fair skin and blond complexion, he couldn’t hide the blush that spread over his cheeks.

“Janet’s a friend. She’ll never be more than that. Now quit teasing me. I want to tell you something, as honest as I’ve ever been. Don’t take it lightly. I didn’t ask you because I’m looking for a quick fuck. For the first time in my life, I’ve met a woman with whom I’d like to have grandchildren. That’s the sort of relationship I’m looking for. Now, once more, would you take a chance and have dinner with me?”

“Yes,” I answered, “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

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A couple of months later, in May, we were assigned to work in a Gulf Coast town, just the two of us this time. The job was an emergency situation that had to be completed in just a few days. We both put in twelve-hour days on Wednesday and Thursday and finally completed our work Friday afternoon.

We had booked separate rooms in a hotel near the beach, hoping to spend some time relaxing in the sun on Saturday, before we returned home on Sunday. We had dinner at a seafood restaurant and were almost too tired to enjoy the excellent meal. When we went back to our rooms, I was tempted to invite him in but I knew the time wasn’t right. At my door, he kissed me with a tenderness and hunger that left me wanting more.

The ringing of the telephone awakened me. When I reached for it, I saw that the time was 1:30 in the morning.

“Yes,” I said sleepily.

“I can’t sleep,” he said. 

“Damn it, Kieran, did you call just to tell me that?” I asked.

“I’ve been awake thinking about us,” he said. “I want to talk to you. Would you go for a walk on the beach with me?”

“Yes, Kieran.”

“I’m going to wear shorts and a shirt, with sneakers. I’ll be outside your door in five minutes.”

When I opened my door, he was waiting. When we started toward his car, I asked where we were going.

“We’re going down to the State Park area, where there’re no houses, where there’ll be no one around this time of night. Trust me, please.”

We parked near the entrance gate to the park and walked over the dunes to the beach. At the water’s edge, he pulled off his shoes and tied the laces together. I did the same, smiling that he had somewhere learned to do the same thing I had, to make it easier to carry sneakers when walking on the beach.

He reached for my hand and we began walking along the beach, away from the lights of the developed area, into the darkness. The moon was nowhere to be seen and the faint starlight was barely enough to see where we were going.

“I’ve been thinking about our relationship,” he began. “We’ve been going out together now for almost two months.  Being with you, just talking to you, makes me happier than I would’ve believed possible.  I want you to understand what I feel and what I want with you.”

“You’ve left me wondering more than once,” I said. “I’ve felt it when you pushed yourself away from me. I mean that in more ways than one. I know you want me but you seem to reach a point where you have to stop, to get yourself back in control. I wish you would explain.”

“Yeah, I want you, more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. But I don’t want a casual relationship, one that’s superficial and over in a few months.”

“I told you when we first started I didn’t want that either,” I responded.

We walked quietly, hand in hand, in the darkness. The surf was almost non-existent, a soft murmur rhythmically creeping up on the beach and retreating. The night was warm and humid, smelling of salt and unknown sea creatures.

“Let me explain what I do want. I want you to think about it. Someday, if you decide you want me in the same way, let me know.”

“Go on.”

“First of all, I want a relationship that lasts for the rest of my life. If I make love to you, I want you to agree that we’ll be totally committed to each other as long as we both shall live.”

That sounds like marriage,” I said.

“Yeah, it does. Marriage in the old-fashioned sense, a marriage in which two people are joined into one. But I want more than that. I want to surrender myself to you in total honesty. I want you to do the same. I want you to see me exactly as I am. I want you to understand me as a sexual being. I want you to let me know you in the same way. I don’t want a woman who always expects me to be the sexual aggressor. I don’t want a woman who’s ashamed of her sexuality. I want a totally-equal sexual partner.  A woman who opens her body to me. A woman who reveals her innermost thoughts and desires with complete trust."

“Is that why you’ve pulled away from me more than once, when you probably could’ve made love to me?”

“Yes, it’s the commitment I want this time. I want you to give it a great deal of thought. I want to tell you much more about who I am and the kind of life I want to lead. At some point, I want you to decide whether you can join with me in partnership. Then I want to make love with you. I want it to be a spiritual as well as a physical union. I’ll wait until a marriage ceremony if that’s what you want, but the ceremony will be for others. The first time we make love, I’ll accept our union as permanent, until death do us part.”

He stopped for a moment and pulled his shirt over his head. He turned toward me, waiting. I guessed his intent, a test to see if I trusted him. I pulled my shirt over my head too. I had worn nothing underneath.

We walked on again, holding hands, shoes and shirt in the other hand. The soft breeze was like a gentle caress on my breasts. I could feel my nipples harden.

“Trust me, Siobhan,” he said. “This isn’t the night for us to make love. This is a night for us to be totally open with each other, to strip away our clothes and our fears. I want to place my life in your hands. I want you to do the same.”

“It’s not easy to rid myself of uncertainty, Kieran,” I said. “What you’re asking for is something that’ll challenge both of us.  It’s frightening, because that level of commitment means that if either of us fails, then we both fail.”

He stopped again, facing me only a foot or so away. He dropped his shoes and shirt on the sand. I did the same.

“We won’t,” he said. “Believe in us. We won’t fail.”

He took both of my hands in his and pulled me against him, holding me with his arms curled around me. He was standing closer to the water than me, on a sloping section of beach, and my face was level with his. He made no attempt to kiss me. We stood like that for a few minutes, his cheek against mine, my bare breasts against his chest. I could feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing and the beating of his heart.

When he pulled away, he reached down to his shorts.

“May I remove these?” he asked. “I want to wade out in the water with you.”

“Yes,” I answered, and reached down to my own shorts.

We both pulled our shorts down at the same time and then stood looking at each other. I could barely see his penis, still hanging downward, but standing slightly away from his body.

Again, he took my hand and we walked out in the water. It was still cool, not yet warmed by the summer’s heat. We walked slowly, until we were in water chest deep.

“Just think,” he said, “millions of years ago, a spark of life was created in this chemical soup and that spark developed the ability to reproduce itself. Can you imagine the trillions of creatures that have sung to each other with the need to continue that life?  Now, we’re here where it all began and I still feel the same life force in me, singing to you, to join together and continue that life.” 

“Kieran, I think you’re just horny,” I said.

I moved against him again, my arms around his waist. His arms encircled me and I dropped my hands down to his buttocks and pulled him against me. When he lowered his face to mine, I opened my lips to his. We stood rocking gently in the moving water, our mouths open to each other, our tongues exploring. His hands slid lower, down to my bottom, pulling me with against him. I could feel his penis hardening against me. He moved backward for a second, letting it lift upward. When he pressed against me again, I felt it swell and lengthen, hot and hard against my stomach even in the cool water.

Time stood still while we held each other. He was right when he spoke of our bodies singing to each other. I wanted it never to end but finally he stepped away from me.

“Yep, that’s it. I’m just horny. I'm horny as hell,” he said.

Hand in hand we waded back to the beach. He shook the sand from his shirt.

“Would you let me dry you off?” he asked.

I stood still, my heart pounding, while he wiped the salt water from my body with my shirt. When I returned the favor, I found that his penis was still erect. I could just see the dark head at the end of the white shaft.

“What will we do with that?” I teased.

“I’m going to give you an honest answer,” he said. “I’ll take care of it later.”

“Will your hand bring it as much satisfaction as mine?” I asked and reached down to hold it. In the semi-darkness, I hadn’t been able to judge its size. Now, hot and hard in my hands, I was amazed at its length and girth. I felt a hungry ache inside me, a need to be filled by it.

“Gently he pulled my hands away.

“No, it won’t. But you’ve got to realize I meant what I said. You know I want to make love to you, here and now, but I’m not going to do it. I want you to know me honestly. I’m probably going to masturbate when I get back to my room. I hope you do too. Then maybe you’ll admit it to me tomorrow. I’ve told you I want total honesty. Most of all, I want a total commitment to each other. I may regret it for the rest of my life but unless you can join me like that, we may never have sex with each other.”

He spread his shorts and shirt out on the sand and then placed mine beside his. He sat down on his and held out his hand to me.  I sat down beside him.

“You’ve just willingly taken off all your clothes with me and I’ve done the same.  How do you feel sitting here nude with me?”

“I’ve got no problem with nudity,” I answered. “I’ve been to topless beaches in Europe. It was a real pleasure to be that way.  I just wish I could have gone to a nude beach.”

“Would you go with me to a cabin my brother and sister and I own, where there’s a group of nudists?  It’s in the woods on private property and we’ve never had any problems.”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I don’t want to get involved in anything like swinging or group sex.”

“It’s nothing like that,” he said.  “In fact, it’s quite the opposite.  All of the adults are married and there’s a bunch of children.  I’m the only adult who’s not married.”

“If we make the commitment we both want, I’d have no problem going with you.”

He stood up and again offered me his hand to pull me up. We shook the sand out of our clothes and I stepped into my shorts, watching as he did the same. He bent forward to zip his shorts, his penis still swollen and heavy. We both pulled our wet shirts over our heads. I heard him take two or three deep breaths. Then he took my hand again and we started back.

We walked slowly along the beach back to the car, still talking about the sort of relationship we both wanted.

In the car, driving back to the motel, I asked, “What do you mean when you say making love?  You said earlier that you want the first time we make love to be a permanent commitment.”

“I meant the first time you open you body to me, when my penis is in your vagina. I’m not ashamed to say when my cock is in your cunt. I’m not ashamed to use different names for our body parts. I mean the first time I have an orgasm inside you, when I come in your cunt. Why do you ask?”

“What we did earlier tonight was making love. It didn’t involve penetration or orgasm but we both know we were showing our love for each other.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, “but it was also learning about each other. I have no shame or guilt about my body and about being a sexual human being. When you took off your shirt and shorts, I think you showed me you feel the same.”

“You also asked me to trust you, didn’t you?”

“Yes”

“Then I want to reach that agreement with you, that it’ll be a permanent commitment the first time I let you put your dick in me. But I’m going to place the burden of holding back on you. I don’t want you seducing me. I’ll tell you clearly when I want you. I’m just not ready now. I want to know you better before that final step.”

“I agree.”

Just as we drove up to the hotel, I leaned toward him and said, “There are other things we can do, to help us learn about each other, even without the best part of love.”

In the hotel, I unlocked the door to my room. As I turned back to him, he started to take me in his arms. I assumed he wanted to kiss me goodnight. I had never before invited him into my room.

This time, I took his hand and led him into my room. The bed was rumpled, my nightgown still thrown across the foot. I pushed him toward a chair.

“I’m going to take a shower. Alone,” I said. “Salt and sand aren’t very comfortable in bed.”

When I came out a few minutes later, wearing a white cotton robe, he was still sitting in the chair.

“It’s your turn now,” I said.

“I don’t have a robe to put on when I come out,” he said, smiling at me.

“Then wrap a towel around yourself.”

I was brushing my hair when he came back a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around his waist. The bulge underneath the towel drew my eyes. When I looked at his face, I noticed that his hair was damp and tousled.

“Sit here on the foot of the bed,” I said. “Let me brush your hair before it dries.”

He did as I asked, sitting quietly, legs together. I had to try more than once before I was able to make his hair look close to the way he wore it each day. I stood in front of him, straddling his legs, my bathrobe gaping open, my breasts in front of his face. I knew he could see that I had on nothing underneath. When I quit, he reached for my hand, for the hairbrush.

“Would you let me brush your hair?” he asked.

I might have been mistaken but I would have sworn that his hand was trembling against mine. I sat down in a chair and he stood behind me.

“This red hair is one of the things I love about you,” he said, gently brushing my hair. “Thanks for showing me that you’re a real redhead.”

He brushed quietly for a minute. “Your breasts are even more beautiful than I imagined they would be.  I don’t know if I’m different from other men but I like to make love to a woman’s breasts with my mouth.  I know my mother breast-fed me but this isn’t some Freudian complex.  I just like to make love to a woman with my mouth.”

“I don’t think that’s unusual, is it?” I asked.

“Maybe not.  I don’t know how other men feel about women in that respect. I’m not just talking about your breasts.  I want to taste you all over.  How would you feel if I held your foot and sucked on your big toe?”

“Sounds kinky but I don’t think I’d stop you.”

“And if I kissed you in the hollow just above your collar bone?”

“That’s nicer,” I laughed.

“On your leg, behind your knee?”

“Fine with me.”

“If I laid you back on the bed, put a pillow under your hips, spread your legs apart, and kissed your pussy, what would you say?”

“I wouldn’t stop you. I’d probably hold you by the ears to keep you there.”

“I’m serious about this,” he said.  “I have something like a hunger to make love to a woman with my mouth, as well as my hands and my dick.  One of my fantasies about you is burying my face between your legs and using my tongue to make you come over and over.  And I want to do it with the lights on.  I don’t want a woman who thinks she’s ‘not pretty down there’ or who thinks oral sex is dirty.  When you’re hot and getting all juicy, I won’t mind getting it in my mouth. It’ll just make my dick that much harder.”

“If you’re trying to find out how I feel about oral sex, you can stop worrying.  I’ve had a little experience with it. I love it.  I like to receive it; I like to give it.” 

He continued slowly brushing my hair, almost dry now.  “What if I asked you to sit in a chair in front of me and masturbate yourself to an orgasm?”

“I’ve never done that with a man before.”

“Think of it as showing me how you like to be touched, of teaching me how to bring you to an orgasm, if you don’t have one before I do when we’re fucking.”

“Would you sit in a chair in front of me and jack off while I watch?” I asked.

“Sure,” he responded. “That’s the sort of thing I want us to be honest about. Even when we get married, I’ll probably still jack off but I hope just not as much. I don’t want you to be upset about it, to think I’m unhappy with you if I do it on occasion. I don’t want to feel guilty if you walk in on me doing it. I hope you’ll even do it with me sometimes.  To me, that’s just one more great way to enjoy our sexuality."

“How would you feel if we made love some night and you came before I did and I used my hand to bring myself off?” I asked. “You might be tired and sleepy.  That’s the way it works, you know.  Sometimes I can come with just plain fucking, perhaps even more than once.  Other times, I might not even care if I have an orgasm.  Women are like that. Sometimes we can be perfectly content with having sex without having an orgasm but I know there’ll be times I couldn’t just turn over and go to sleep without one.  Would you be bothered if I used my fingers to finish the job?”

“That’s the way I would want it to be with us,” he responded. “I don’t want to have to jump up and wash my cock before going to sleep because it’s covered with your juices and mine. I’d love to snuggle up against you, even if it’s messy, and then we can use my hand or yours to bring you off.  After we’re both done, I’d love to curl up with you, with your bare butt against me, spoon fashion, with one of my arms around you, holding one of your breasts, while we both go to sleep.”

“I’ll agree to that, but only if you’ll let me curl up to your butt sometimes, with my arm around you, holding your dick,” I answered.

“I don’t know whether married life can be like that or not.  Is it just a fantasy?” he asked.

“No,” I answered, “I think married life can be whatever we want to make it, if we agree on what we do.”

“I’m not the kind of man who wants to get into kinky stuff,” he continued.  “I can fantasize about tying you up, with your legs spread, and using my mouth on your pussy, but only if you agree to let me do it.  I don’t get any thrills out of bondage and discipline, or sado-masochism, or rubber outfits and shit like that. I’m not ever going to give you a vibrator for a Christmas present.”

“We certainly feel the same about that,” I answered.  “But how would you feel about talking about our fantasies, maybe even acting them out?”

“I’d love that,” he answered.  “I have lots of fantasies. It might take me years to tell you about them and then carry them out. Do you have any you’d like to play out? Start with something simple we can do tonight.”

“Well, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a man, to have a penis and testicles, especially a penis that I could wrap my hand around and see how it feels to masturbate,” I responded.

“Say dick and balls.”

“Ok, dick and balls, then.”

“I can’t change you into a man,” he continued, “and I sure as hell don’t want to.”

“No, but you could let me do it with your dick.  How about it? You lie back on the bed and let me jerk you off.”

“You haven’t done that with a guy before?” he asked.

“Well, yes, but not with the lights on. I’ve had boy friends in high school and college.  I’m not a virgin, you know. But I haven’t had very many lovers. I’m not much of an expert on men.”

He handed me the hairbrush and I felt my hair to see if it was dry enough. My hair was but I could feel the moistness between my legs.  I had never dreamed that having a man brush my hair could be such an erotic turn on.

“If you want to do it, I’ll be your teacher tonight,” he offered.

“You said you wanted us to be honest with each other.  Would you believe my pussy is almost dripping just from having you brush my hair?”

“So what?” he responded. “My cock would be standing straight up if it wasn’t for this chair back it’s pressed against.”

I caught his hand and pulled him around until he was standing in front of me. I could hardly believe the bulge behind the towel wrapped around him. I pulled the towel away and threw it on the bed. I watched as his cock expanded and lifted itself until it was pointing straight at me and then lifted further until it was standing up at an angle to his body.  When I first saw it, his foreskin covered the head almost completely, with only a small circle of skin open at the tip. As it lifted and expanded, his foreskin drew back until only the ridge of the glans was still covered.

“At least he’s a gentleman,” I said. “He knows enough to stand up and take his hat off in the presence of a lady.”

“Who are you talking about?” he asked.

 “Your penis, your cock, dick, peter, John Thomas, whatever it is you call it. Do you have a name for it?”

“I’ve never felt the need to name it.  It goes with me wherever I go and comes when I want it to.”

“And I’ll bet he’s good at making the ladies come too. Now would you turn around?” I asked.

“Why, what do you want me to do that for?”

“So I can do a butt evaluation. Remember I told you Janet liked your tight little butt. I just want to see if your tush, your buns, your ass, or whatever you want to call it, is as sexy as Janet said.

He turned around so that his back was to me and I gave his butt a good inspection. It was remarkably smooth and tight and muscular. Janet would have been pleased with it. While he was turned around, I stood up, shrugged off my bathrobe, and then turned him around. For the second time, we were totally nude in each other’s presence, but this time we were in a well-lit hotel room, not on a dark beach.
      
We both stood silently, only a few feet separating us, looking at each other.  I saw a very handsome young man, with blond hair on his head but very little on other parts of his body.  His pubic hair was the same color as that on his head. The hair on his arms and legs was so light as to be almost invisible. He still had the slimness of a young man, a well-muscled chest, flat stomach, strong legs, and, most evident of all, an erect cock waiting to be dealt with.

I can’t say what he saw but I knew my hair down below was just as red as that on my head.  My skin was even fairer than his and I couldn’t tolerate much sun and never got a tan. My breasts weren’t large but they didn’t droop and I could go without a brassiere sometimes.  The areolas on my breasts were a light red color and the nipples, standing out now, were a darker red. And all over my face and shoulders and chest he could see my freckles.

“Do you like what you see?” I asked.

“You’re even more beautiful than I’ve dreamed. Believe me, there’ve been dreams of you, with a wet spot on the bed.”

“Do you sleep in the nude?”

“Yeah, I’ve slept like that for years, especially in warm weather.  When it’s cold, I’ll pull out some flannel pajamas.”

“I do the same, except that I have some flannel nightgowns. 

“I’d love to spend a cold winter’s night with you.”

His eyes had hardly left my breasts since we were face to face.  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

“You may not believe it but I was comparing the color of your areolas and your nipples with the color of your hair - up top and down below. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so beautifully color-coordinated.”

“Well, you can thank my Irish father for the genes that gave me red hair and fair skin.  But we both need to catch up on sleep. I’m tired after three days of hard work and very little sleep so far tonight.”

“I don’t think I’m going to sleep much with this in the bed with me,” he said as he put his hand on his penis.

“Then let me have my fantasy. I’ll take care of it. When I’m finished, we’ll go to bed together. If it pokes its head up again tonight, I’ll chase you back to your own room.”

“No, that’s not fair,” he answered. “I always have erections while I’m sleeping.  I don’t know how many because I can’t count’em when I’m asleep.  I usually wake up in the morning with a hard-on.  Promise you won’t chase me out unless I try to do something with it.”

“I won’t chase you out if you’re good.  Now, stretch out on the bed with a pillow under your head and close yours eyes.  I’m going to sit on your stomach, facing your feet, and pretend that I’m the one with the aching hard-on.”

He crawled up on the bed and then said, “I think you might want to have a damp towel nearby. I’m going to make a mess. And if you have any baby oil, use that. I usually do.”

I grabbed the damp towel he had dropped and rummaged in my suitcase for a bottle of oil. When I found it, I held it up for him to see.  It wasn’t baby oil; it was oil that I used on my elbows and feet and sometimes other areas.

“Will this do?” I asked. “I like to use it on my skin when I’ve been out in the sun or wind too much.”

“Sure,” he answered, “If it doesn’t hurt your skin, I don’t think it can hurt my dick.”

At first I lay down on the bed, with my head beside his middle. I took his cock in my hand and held it straight up, looking at it. I gently bent it from side to side and from front to back.  I moved down to his testicles, cupping my hand under his scrotum and gently lifting them.

“I’m no connoisseur of cocks,” I said, “but I think yours rates as prime.  I’m glad you’re not circumcised. The cut ones I’ve seen looked mutilated. If we have boy children, I want them to be like you.”

“They will be,” he agreed. 

I put my hand on his dick. “I’m no expert on jacking off guys, Kieran.  I’ve done it for a few poor guys to put them out of their misery.”

“You don’t have to be an expert. As long as they get off, most cocks are happy, even if a rank amateur does it.”

“Yes, but I want to do it the way you want it done. I’m not used to dealing with an uncircumcised one. Tell me what to do.”

“Sure. Just wrap your hand around it, about midway between the head and the base.”

“Like this?” I asked, as I tried to encircle it with my hand.

“Yeah.  Now move your hand slowly up as far as you can.”

I followed his instructions. “The foreskin slides back over the head. I don’t touch it with my hand.”

“If your hand is dry, it’s best not to rub it on the head. That’s almost as sensitive as your clitoris.  How would you like it if I tried to rub your clit with a dry finger?”

“I’d chase you off,” I answered.

“Do you think it’d feel better if I used a wet tongue?”

“That’s your fantasy. You wait your turn.”

“Now move your hand down as far as you can go.”

“It pulls down on top but it’s attached, sort of under the head.  Is it supposed to work that way?”

“Yes, now stick your finger in your mouth and then rub it around the area just between the head and the regular skin on the shaft.”

When I did, his cock jumped reflexively in my hand.

“That’s the underside of my foreskin. It’s very sensitive. When you pull down on the skin until that area’s tightly stretched, it’s even more sensitive.”

“And what about the place underneath, where the foreskin is still attached to the head?”

“Do the same thing there.  Wet your finger, pull down until the skin on my cock is stretched tight, then rub it.”

I did as he asked and again, his cock seemed to move on its own accord.

“Now, combine some of what I’ve told you. Written instructions. Pull down on skin to cause tension on the inner foreskin and frenulum, rub the last couple of inches with hand or mouth. How long do you think I’m going to last before I squirt all over you?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “May I try it?”

“Sure. Put some of the oil on your hand and on my cock.  I’ll warn you again you’d better be careful where you point it.  I’m going to make a big mess on something.”

I moved so that I was sitting astride him, with my pussy just about over his navel, facing toward his feet. I knew he could feel how hot and wet I was.  I squirted the oil generously over his cock and smeared it all over his cock and balls.

At first, I just moved my hand up and down, holding the skin on the shaft of his cock. As my hand movements became faster, I could feel his stomach muscles underneath me becoming tense. Then I decided to see how long he would last if I used the other technique he had shown me.  I used my left hand to pull down on the skin on his cock, and my right hand to slide up and down. Just as he had told me, the foreskin stayed retracted and my oil-slick hand was moving up and down on the head of his cock.

After a minute or so of this, I could feel his body become even tenser. I could see his leg muscles become harder and I felt myself lifted up a little as his buttocks tensed. His cock seemed to grow even larger and redder.  His testicles had been hanging down between his legs a little but they’d slowly retracted around the base of his cock.  I could also hear him breathing heavily.

Suddenly he erupted. The first white string of semen flew out of him and landed between my breasts. The second spun out and hit a little lower. The spurts continued, each a fraction of a second after the previous one, until I was dripping with his come from my breasts down to my pubic hair. Some of the last landed on his stomach. The final ones merely oozed out and I used my hand to milk them out.

Watching his performance, I realized how hot and wet my cunt was. I knew I wanted to have his cock doing that inside me for the rest of my life. I turned around, still on top of him, straddling his thighs.

“You were right when you said you’d make a mess,” I said.

“If you’ll hand me that damp towel, I’ll wipe it off you,” he replied.

Instead, I reached between my breasts and picked up a little of his semen on my finger.  I stuck the finger in my mouth and cleaned it off. It didn’t really taste that bad.  But I wasn’t sure I wanted so much of it in my mouth all at once.

“How does it taste?” he asked.

I reached down and picked up a little more and extended my finger to his mouth.  He looked me directly in the eyes and opened his mouth. My finger came out clean.

“Is this a test to see what I’ll really do with my mouth, whether it involves my juices, or yours, or ours in combination?” he asked.

“No, not really,” I replied. “I just can’t imagine most men want their mouth on a woman’s cunt when it’s full of their own come.”

“It’s called a cream pie in pornographic stories,” he said. “And I’m telling you the truth. I love to go down on a woman, either before or after we fuck. And besides, I already know what my come tastes like.  I licked it off a girl’s breasts once.”

“Damn, Kieran, you’re going to have to tell me about that some day.”

On impulse, I lay down on top of him and rubbed my body against his, smearing his come over both of us.

“Do you want to stay like this until we’re glued together or should we wipe it off?” I asked.

He put his arms around me and held me. After a few minutes, I reached for the towel.

<><><>

When I finally finished telling the story of our beginning, Kieran’s cock was between my thighs, only half-hard now.

“Kieran, aren’t you going to finish what you’ve started?” I asked.

“No,” he answered. “I don’t really want to get off tonight, when you don’t. I’m content to be close to you. Just being like this with you – it doesn’t get any better.”

“I wish you would, Kieran,” I said. “Just a slow, quiet little fuck here in the dark. I want to feel you come in me. Even if I don’t, I’ll sleep better.”

“You sure?”

I didn’t answer. I reached down between my legs and started playing with his dick. When it was hard again, I tucked it inside me and he gave me the slow gentle fuck I wanted. I held his hand in place, his two middle fingers on my clitoris, and helped him to give me a quiet little orgasm just before he came.

“Thank you,” he said. “That was nice.”

“It made me think of the first night we spent together.”

“What night?”

“That first night we spent together, at the hotel on the beach. I didn’t sleep anymore after I jacked you off. I just pretended to. When we spooned up against each other in bed, I could feel your cock pressed up against me. It might not have been hard but it was still hot. I wanted to push you over on your back, get you hard again, and crawl on top of you. I wanted you inside me more than I’d ever wanted anything.”

He chuckled softly. “I always wondered how you could go to sleep like that.  I didn’t sleep anymore either. Every time I felt another hard-on starting, I’d turn over.  You’d spoon up against my butt and put your arm around me. If you’d felt down a little lower, you’d have found a hard-on.”

“So we were both pretending to sleep,” I said. “Doesn’t it seem kind of silly now? That we didn’t just go ahead and fuck each other to sleep that first night?”

“I suppose,” he responded. “But I wasn’t sure you were ready. I mean, for the sort of commitment we’d talked about. You know I’m not good at picking up a woman’s subtle signals. After the next weekend, I knew you wanted me the same way I wanted you. When we finally did it, a few weeks later, I knew it was right.”

“We were both scared of the commitment. Seems dumb now, doesn’t it? Anyway, the second time we slept together, two nights in one weekend, that was nice too. And the next weekend, when we finally fucked each other to exhaustion – that made even better memories.”

“Good night, Siobhan,” he said, “and good night to you, Kerry or Kerri, whichever you are.”

“And to you, Kieran,” I said. “Do you care which it is?”

“No, it’s our child. I’ll love it no matter what.”


TO BE CONTINUED:
