
THE MEASURE OF MAN

An Epic by Gil Gamesh

Chapter Two

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 Stuart, 33 in story, 25 in flashback; Siobhan Stuart, 32 in story, 24 in flashback; Kavan Stuart, 6 in story; Arial Stuart, 4 in story; Kerry Stuart, a couple of weeks from birth in story

TELLING THE STORY:
Kieran Stuart

(KIERAN)

A few weeks later, we were resting in bed again, after Kavan and Arial had gone to sleep, worn out from playing for most of the day. I’d let them play in the tub until their fingers wrinkled and then put them to bed with their nightly reading. I’d showered after Siobhan to get rid of the sweat from two kids. When I came out, naked as usual, drying myself off, I found her already resting on her side on the bed, wearing a nightgown that covered her from shoulders to knees. I stood looking at her for a minute.

“Honey, why do you have that on?” I asked.

“I’m tired and uncomfortable, Kieran. I just don’t feel pretty because I’m so big. I feel like I’m going to split wide open if this baby doesn’t hurry up and get here.”

“I know they don’t ever come on schedule but it’s a couple of weeks yet.”

“Yes, I know,” she answered with a slight quaver in her voice. I could tell she was almost on the verge of crying.

“Don’t you remember how it was with Kavan and Arial? You didn’t hide from me even up to the time the baby came. I always thought you were beautiful when you were carrying our child. I still do. You seem sacred to me when you’re pregnant and you’ve got an extension of our lives inside you.”

“But we haven’t had sex for two weeks now. And it’s going to be a couple of months until we can do it again. Maybe I’m not supposed to but I get horny even when I’m pregnant,” she said.

“With Kavan, the doctor gave us some guidance about how long we should wait to ‘resume intercourse,’ as he put it. He just didn’t say anything about how long we had to wait for oral sex. I seem to remember you were having regular orgasms within about three weeks.”

“Yes, and you were having to jack off. I like to watch you but I really wanted you to be having sex with me, not with your hand.” She sniffled and I could hear her unhappiness in her voice.

“Please, don’t cry,” I begged. “I told you before we were married I didn’t want to have to hide what I did from you, at times when we couldn’t have sex.”
 
She dried her eyes and looked at me, staring down at my genitals. Finally, she turned her back to me, pulled up the pillow that she used to support her stomach, and seemed to relax. I wanted to do something to make her happy.

“Do you remember the first weekend we ever spent with each other, how much I wanted to love you with my mouth?” I asked. “Would you let me do that tonight?”

She looked up at me again, with a smile this time. “That was a wonderful weekend, wasn’t it? But we can’t roll back time. We can’t be like that again.”

“Yes, we can,” I argued. “Just let me love you the way I want to.”

“Do you really remember that weekend the way I do?” she asked. “Would you just hold me and tell me what you remember about it? When you finish the story, I’ll let you do whatever you want, if you’ll turn out the lights.”

“You’ve never asked me to turn out the lights before. Why ask for that now?”

“Because I don’t feel pretty down there,” she answered. “I know you’ve said I should never say that but I feel so fat and I just don’t want you looking at me.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you the story of our first weekend,” I answered. “And I’ll even turn out the light if you’ll let me do what I want to. But don’t you ever say again that you’re ‘not pretty down there.’ Every part of you is always beautiful to me.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, “No, I mean tell me about that first weekend again.”

I turned out the lights, curled up against her from behind, and reached around with one hand to hold her breast. I began to recount our story.

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During the week after our out-of-town trip to the Gulf Coast, we had dinner together every night. We had agreed that I would pick her up before work every morning and we’d have dinner together every night at my apartment, at hers, or at some restaurant. On Monday morning, when I picked her up, I held the door to my car open for her and closed it after she was seated. When I got inside, I inserted the key and was about to start the car. She stopped me by putting her hand on mine.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about this car. How can you afford a red BMW like this on your salary?” she asked.

“It’s a long story, Honey. I can’t tell you the whole thing while we’re on our way to work. Would it be OK if I gave you a solemn pledge to tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth some time when you’ve got an afternoon to listen.”

“Damn, Kieran, don’t you forget it. I want to know.”

“I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours. Are you going to tell me about some of the stuff you did before we met?”

“Sure, but let’s change the subject. You asked me not to masturbate all this week. You said you wouldn’t either. Just what is it you’ve got in mind for Saturday?”

“It’s really very simple,” I said. “I want to spend the weekend with you, naked as much as possible. We can do whatever we wish with each other. I’m going to make sure I fulfill one of the fantasies I’ve had about you. The only thing I don’t want is for us to commit ourselves to each other this weekend. I want to save that for the next weekend.”

We followed the same pattern for each night of the week. We stopped for take-out food three nights. Once I cooked and once she did. We spent the evenings talking about what sort of marriage we wanted, children, career, life, religion or lack thereof, likes and dislikes. By Friday night, I was convinced that we had so many beliefs and viewpoints alike that the few areas of disagreement were insignificant.

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Thursday night, we discussed our immediate families, shared memories, and considered arrangements for each of us to meet the other’s parents and siblings. Siobhan’s parents were out of the country, in Italy, until the end of August. Her brother and his wife were living fairly close to us. We agreed to set up a visit with her parents shortly after they returned. 

My parents were at home and I told her we could go there any weekend we wanted if I just called in advance to let them know I was bringing her. I told her she’d probably enjoy it more if she met just my parents first. We could go for another visit later so she could meet Alan, my older brother and Kara, my older sister, and their families.

Then I told her again of a long-planned weekend at Cabin in the Woods, the place Alan, Kara, and I owned. I described the beauty of the property, over 200 acres of heavily wooded land, with a number of streams and creeks between rolling hills and lots of large outcroppings of huge rocks. I described the A-frame cabin in the middle of the property and the beautiful view from the deck looking down to the creek below. I explained that a lot of family and friends, none older than thirty-five, and their children would be there and it would be a great time to meet them. I told her it should be a very enjoyable and unique weekend. I reminded her she’d already said she would be OK with a little nudity if the weather was good.
 
“I think you’d better explain what does go on,” she said. “I assume if there are children there’s nothing to worry about. How did the three of you come to own the property?”

"Paul and Lauren Andersen, neighbors of my family, were the original owners of Cabin in the Woods. I went there with them lots of weekends during the summer I turned sixteen. Paul was finishing up some of the work around the cabin and I helped him. He and I finished a lot of the inside and built the deck together."

“What were Paul and Lauren like?” she asked.

“Paul was a helicopter pilot with a big company. Lauren wasn’t working that summer. She was staying home with their first child. They were both about ten years older than I was.”

“You spent weekends alone with them?” she asked. “Is there a story there?”

“It’s another one you can put on your list for me to tell you about. Again, it’s something I can’t condense because, if I tell you, you’ve got to understand the situation to know why I did something no one else knows about.”

“A deep dark secret?” she teased.

“It’s deep but not dark. Let’s just say I gave them a gift out of love and leave it at that. Ask me later and I’ll explain.”

"How did you and Alan and Kara come to own it?"

"Paul got transferred to the West Coast that fall. At first, he asked me to take charge of the property, as a custodian. I took Alan and Kara out there. Alan came up with the idea of buying it and renting it out to make the payments. We talked to our parents and took them to see the property. Dad agreed to back us. Since I was still a minor and in high school, I couldn't participate in buying it. But Dad said that if I worked in keeping it up, we could all enjoy it and I'd have a "sweat equity" and could be a part owner. Some years later, Alan and Kara and I bought out Dad's equity and we made enough renting it to groups like Boy Scouts to pay off a large part of it."

“Tell me about the people who will be there,” she requested.

“Alan is my only brother, five years older then me. He’s married and they have three children, one only a few months old. Kara is my only sister; she’s about two and one-half years older than me. She’s married too and they have two children. The three of us have always been very close. There’ll be two first cousins of ours, both married, and their children. There’ll be one other young couple who have been close friends with the three of us for years and, of course, their children. Not counting us, there will be ten or twelve adults and, I think, somewhere around a dozen children.”

“That sounds like a great weekend, spending two days with all of them and their children in one small cabin,” she said, only half joking.

“Well, it’s not small at all,” I answered. It has seven bedrooms, three small ones along each side sort of at the bottom of the legs of the A-frame, and one bigger bedroom in a loft on the second floor. It has two toilets. Two and a half if you count the small half-bath in the loft bedroom. There’s one big shower stall in an enclosed area down under the A-frame. There’s a huge raised deck at one end and a large grassy play area down the hill beside the creek. The creek’s a good place for swimming and we all enjoy it.”

“OK, I guess it’s big enough for a crowd. Tell me more.”

“We all take food and drink. We’ve agreed that the food is always to be the kind we should eat, with lots of fruits and vegetables. No junk food or sweet treats are allowed. The drinks are limited too. No alcohol is allowed and the kids get only fruit juice, milk, or water. The adults can have coffee or tea if they want but we don’t allow soft drinks. There’s no smoking; we almost had a fight over that but the two smokers decided to quit smoking because of their kids. We all pitch in together in fixing the food and feeding the kids before the adults eat.”

“I think I can live with that. It sounds like the way I like to eat and drink,” she said. “More.”

“There’s no TV so no movies to entertain the kids if it rains. There’s a radio and a CD player but most of the music is classical or old favorites. We’re just trying to create a quiet peaceful atmosphere.”

“Good, I could certainly do without TV or movies for a few days.”

“We all dress very casually - shorts, knit shirts, that sort of thing,” I added. “Jeans and sweat shirts in cooler weather.”

“Come on, Kieran,” she said in exasperation. “Everything you’ve told me so far sounds wonderful. I’d love to be part of a group like that. I thought you said you all enjoyed being nudists at the cabin.”

“We do,” I answered. “When we first get there, everybody will be dressed about the same. If the weather’s sunny, there’ll be some out on the deck or down in the grass without shirts.”

“You can certainly take your shirt off,” she replied. “I assume they’re used to seeing your chest.”

“It’s more than that,” I continued. “Some of the ones without shirts will be women or girls.”

“Sunning topless? I did that in Europe where it’s not at all unusual.”

“It’s not just sunning. The women probably won’t put on their shirts when they come inside. They’ll probably stay like that when they and their husbands help fix lunch for the kids and then for grownups.”

“I suppose I’d feel awkward for a few minutes around strangers like that but, if they’re people we’re going to be friends with, I think I’d be alright with it.”

“When the grownups eat, out on the deck if the weather’s good, the kids will be running around like wild little animals. Then you’ll notice that they seem to be losing their clothes. You’ll see a naked boy chasing a naked girl or vice versa. It won’t be long until the whole bunch of them is completely nude and running and screaming. Finally, they’ll get together and come back to the adult group screaming, ‘Skinny dipping, let’s go skinny dipping.’”

“How old are these kids?” she asked.

“The two oldest are a boy of thirteen and a girl of fourteen. They’ve already started puberty. The rest range all the way down to Kara’s nursing baby boy.”

“So some of you take them down to the creek then?”

“Nope, all of us take them to the creek. But before we do, all of the adults get naked too. Some of the women might keep their shorts on if it’s necessary. The only things we take to the creek are insect repellant, sunscreen, towels, and blankets. Hats are allowed,” I joked.

“Everybody goes skinny dipping?”

“Well, you don’t have to get in the water if you don’t want to. Some just sit on the bank and watch. I think all of the men usually get in the water to play with the kids.”

“So, there will be a dozen adults and about that many kids playing in the creek or in the grass naked. If I followed your description of the group, all the adults are married, except for you. Don’t you ever get hot and bothered with so many women in the nude? Don’t you ever get hard or at least a little aroused looking at them?”

“Not really,” I replied, “They’re all people I’ve known most of my life, old friends. With all the children around, we’re like one big family group. The kids set the tone for the group in their innocence. I’ve noticed the thirteen year-old boy get a boner a few times but nobody pays any attention to it. He’ll probably keep playing just like before, except his stiffy won’t be flopping around as much. I can remember when I was that age; mine got hard whenever it wanted to, no matter what I told it.”

“Does everybody go like that the rest of the day?” she asked.

“It depends on the weather. Some stay at the creek for an hour or so and then go shower and get dressed. Some stay naked until the kids are called to go back to the cabin. Some of the adults and the oldest boy and girl will help wash the younger kids in the big shower on the basement level. We’ve learned the hard way that we always have to do that. You can get chiggers or ‘red-bugs’ if you don’t and occasionally even if you do. We’ve even found a few ticks on kids and grownups.”

“You know I can’t take much sun,” she said. “Would it bother you if I went back to the cabin after just a short exposure?”

“No. Remember Kara’s got a new baby, only a few months old. She won’t stay at the creek long with him. Her husband and I’ll help watch all the other kids. You might even get a special treat. She’s nursing the baby. When she does that, most of the kids will stop and stand watching while she nurses it. They seem fascinated by it.”

“When you’re all playing with the kids, do the kids or the grownups object to you touching them?”

“No, there’s no problem with anybody in that area. I might have a little naked boy or girl crawling up in my lap if I’m sitting down, or they may grab me around the neck from behind and ask me to carry them. I often pick up the younger boys and girls and hold them naked, with their butt on my arm. The older ones will jump on me and maul me a little but they don’t want to be held. The fourteen year old girl doesn’t jump on me but, from the way she looks at me sometimes, I think she’d like to.”

“Yeah, and you’d like to jump her too, I’ll bet. How will the kids treat me?” she asked.

“Just the same way they do me,” I answered, “if you let them know that you welcome it. Remember, it’s the smaller ones that want to be held more. You might have a two or three year old boy in your lap, sucking on one thumb while he plays with your nipple with the other hand. Don’t make him stop. The other women will think nothing of it. They’ve all been there and done that. And when we have children of our own, you won’t find it strange when they act the same as these children.”

“So, after skinny dipping in the creek, what do you all do?” she asked.

“Everybody does whatever they want to,” I answered. “Some will get dressed and some won’t. Some will be in the kitchen working on the evening meal. Others may bring something out on the deck to help prepare it. The kids usually stay naked. We pull out some exercise mats for them to sleep on and spread them out in the big area of the cabin. Sometimes they’ll roll around and wrestle; sometimes they sit quietly and play games.”

“Both boys and girls?” she said, with eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” I said, “They don’t have to play doctor to see how the other sex is made. It’s right there in front of them.”

“Doesn’t it make them curious about the differences between the sexes and why we’re different?”

“Not especially. If they do, we’ve all agreed to answer their questions honestly and frankly. If enough of them show an interest in anything sexual, we’ll ask one of the married couples to sit down with them and hold a question and answer session. The older they get, the more attentive they are.”

“Do you ever get to hold one of the Q & A sessions?” she asked.

“No, but I’m hoping we’ll be able to one of these days soon.”

“Do you expect me to help you?” she asked. “I wouldn’t know what to say to kids.”

“Sure you would. You just give them honest answers. Always make sure they realize how beautiful and wonderful and precious their bodies are.”

“Give me an example,” she said.

“Well, it’s the attitude we try to show toward them, not just what we say to them. When you look at one of the boys, you’ll find he has the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen. All the women say that to him. I think they’re right. I’m sure you’ll probably tell him that too. But if he’s standing there in front of you naked, would you try to make him believe that his penis and testicles aren’t beautiful, that they should be hidden? The same thing is true with the girls. You can’t take the attitude that the blonde hair on their head is beautiful and then make them feel, hey, the little cleft in your vulva is ugly and should be hidden.”

“Yes, but what if I’m sitting on the deck and the thirteen year-old boy looks at me and gets a little stiffy. What should I do then?”

“Nothing,” I answered. “Just let him look. Part your legs and show him a little more if you wish. Look him in the eyes and give him a big smile, as though he’s sharing something secret with you. What’s happening to him is the most natural response in the world. Why should either of you worry about it?”

“But what if it’s his father looking at me. What will his wife think?”
 
“Just look at her and smile. You’ll be the only genuine redhead there. Just accept the fact that that you’ll be looked at a lot the first time we go. They’ll all know that you’re there because we’ve made the same commitment they all have, whether we’re married then or not. Remember these are all good friends of mine. They’ve asked me more than once when I was going to bring someone with me. Believe me; they’ll be very happy for the both of us.”

 “What about sleeping arrangements?” she asked.

“I’ve told you that the kids, even the two older ones sleep on the exercise mats, using sleeping bags. They’re allowed to sleep nude if they want to and most of them do in warm weather. The grownups get the bedrooms. We’ll probably be given the bigger bedroom in the loft even if it’s not my turn yet. But after that, we’ll take turns rotating around the bedrooms.”

“No body will object to us sleeping together, even if we’re not married then?”

“No,” I answered, “I know most of them had sex with each other before marriage and some had been living together for some time before getting married.”

“Will your parents feel the same way when we go to visit them?”

“When we tell them about the commitment we’ve made to each other and that we’re already having sex together, they’ll be delighted. My mother will have fresh sheets on the bed in the guest bedroom before you know what’s happened.”

“And if we want to have sex while we’re there?”

“Do you mean at my parent’s house or at the cabin?” I asked.

“Both, I guess,” she responded.

“There’s no problem with either place. My parents’ will expect it. Mom will probably talk to you about it the next day. Just remember that Alan and Kara and I have always been very frank in talking about sex with them. The parents at the camp may disappear in their bedroom any time of day. When they shut the bedroom door, everybody knows that means not to disturb them. A lot of the bedroom doors are shut at night. But I’ll warn you that the place isn’t soundproof at all. You can hear a lot of what goes on in the other bedrooms and in the kid’s area. But, again, it’s the most natural thing in the world and we all accept it. There might be a little good-natured kidding the next day if some couple is unusually loud at night. But you’ll also hear some of the couples talking very frankly about their sex life. And I do mean frankly. Sometimes I wonder if they do it more when I’m around, to make sure I know what I’m missing. We’ll have to be unusually loud the first night to make sure they know I’m not missing out anymore. Would you be OK with that?”

“I don’t know yet. Am I going to find out soon?” she asked.

“I told you that I wanted this weekend to be mine, to live out my fantasy with you. I’m not going to make love with you - no, that’s not the right way to say it – I’m not going to fuck – that’s not right either. How do I say it? I’m not going to cleave unto you as one flesh until next weekend. I just want to do everything else this weekend.” 

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On Saturday morning, I stopped by the jewelry store for the gift I had picked out for her. I didn’t think she had caught on when I tried to get a measurement of her neck but I wasn’t sure. When I showed the jeweler a picture of her, he looked at her for a minute and then at me. “You’re a lucky man,” he said. ”If it doesn’t fit, have her bring it back to me. If I can see her in person, I’ll adjust it at no charge to you. My wife wrapped it for you; she’s very good at that.”

Next I stopped at a French gourmet deli to pick up food and wine for the weekend. Again, I showed the owner her picture and told him I wanted some of his very best for the woman I was going to marry. He looked at the picture for a minute or so and then began leading me around recommending various items. I asked him to pick out a half-dozen bottles of very good wine. When I was paying, he asked if I had plans for l’amour that afternoon. I answered, “Yes, and for the rest of out lives too.” He looked at me for a moment and then said, “Vive l’amour. Please bring her in with you the next time you visit us.”

I arrived at her apartment just a few minutes before noon. She must have seen me drive up because she opened the door a few seconds before I could ring. She was wearing some sort of colorful dress that might have been Indonesian in origin. Since both my arms were full of stuff I didn’t want to drop, I was grateful. I carried in a couple of the bags of food and wine and told her I had more in the car. She walked back with me and helped carry the other bags of food items into her small kitchen.

Before we shut the door to her apartment, I said, “Would you hang this on the doorknob and then lock the door.” I handed her the “DO NOT DISTURB” sign I had picked up at a hotel. She looked at me quizzically and I said, “I hope we don’t see or talk to anyone else until Monday. I think this is yours.”

I handed her a plain brown bag containing my gift to her, without indicating what was in. She looked at it and then at me and then opened the bag. When she saw the gift-wrapping, she smiled at me and raised one eyebrow.

“Open it, please,” I said, “it’s for you.”

She carefully removed the wrapping without tearing it, just like my Mother so often did. She folded it and laid it to one side. Only then did she open the case. She stood looking it at for a minute or so. When she looked up at me, she said, “We can’t afford this.” When she realized what she had said, she changed it. “I mean, you can’t afford this.”

“Yes, I can afford it,” I replied. “I’m not wealthy, but this didn’t put any strain on my cash reserves. Come on, put them on.”

She took out the four-strand pearl choker first, looked to see how the ends attached, and then wrapped it around her neck. She fumbled with it a few seconds and then asked me to connect it. I did as she asked and then picked up the pearl earrings and handed them to her. She easily put them on her pierced ear lobes.

“I suppose I might have bought a diamond engagement ring and given it to you. You could have pretended to be surprised and unsure whether you should accept it. Diamonds are cold and hard and never living. I wanted something that complements your beauty, something warm that once was alive or, at least, part of something alive. I’ll still get you an engagement ring, if you wish, and we’ll both pick it out. But this is the gift I wanted to give to you.”

“It’s the best gift I’ve ever had,” she said, with eyes glistening. She reached up as though to remove the earrings. “No, I said, “I want you to wear them this weekend. Just the pearls, nothing else.”

She smiled. “Do you think we might have lunch now? You’ve brought much too much food. Help me pick out something and you can open a bottle of wine.”

We had a leisurely lunch. While we ate I brought up the subject of money and handling it. “I don’t want us to have separate checking or saving or investment accounts. I want you to take charge of it all. Everything we have will be in our names, jointly owned, with you in primary charge of handling it except for investments, where we’ll work together. You’re the one with the financial planning expertise. Is that OK with you?”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “From your clothes and car and your gift, I know you’ve accumulated much more than I have so far.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I know you have the ability to handle finances. The reason I want to do this is to show you the kind of commitment I want to make to you and the trust I have in you.”

“I’ve got to pee,” she said. “How are we going to be about that?”

“Go with the flow, I guess. If you’re showering and I’ve got to pee, I’ll do it and I promise not to flush while you’re under the water.”

“That sounds great to me,” she said. “Now, come on; let’s both go pee and then take a shower together.”

“I will, on one condition,” I answered.

“What?”

“That you take the pearls off while we shower and then put them back on afterwards.”

In the shower, when she handed me a cloth and asked me to wash her back, I ended up washing her all over and sporting a hard-on as rigid as any I’ve ever had. When she returned the favor, I was glad when she didn’t linger excessively on my cock and balls. We dried each other off and then she led me into her bedroom. She walked over to the window, turned, smiled at me, and then pulled the drapes closed, leaving only two soft lights at each side of the bed.

She brought me the pearl choker again, to let me clasp it around her neck. I was struck again by her beauty, her red hair unkempt and tangled, her face devoid of makeup, her freckles showing, her skin like ivory, her breasts still small but standing out with no apparent sag, her nipples a feast for any man’s lips but especially mine, and last, if there could be a last, a glorious red mat of pubic hair crowning her Mound of Venus, so appropriately named.

“I think I could spend days making love to your breasts and never be satisfied. There’s a song that sums it up pretty well.”

“Sing it for me?” she asked. ”I know you’re a wonderful dancer, you have very good social manners when necessary, you can be just as naughty and gross as I am when you want to, and you appreciate good music and opera. Now if you can just sing, I’ll marry you tomorrow.”

“Don’t joke about it because I might just take you up on that. I can sing a little. I even have a little talent on the piano and guitar but I’d never want to sing in public.”

“Sing it. I won’t laugh.”

I sang it softly, watching her to see if she laughed at me.
  
	Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine,
	I’ll taste your strawberries; I’ll drink your sweet wine.
	A million tomorrows shall all pass away,
	Ere I forget all the joy that is mine today.

When I stopped, she smiled and asked, “Can you sing the next part?”

“I don’t remember it,” I answered.

“I know it and I wouldn’t be surprised if you do too.” She sang it in a voice no better or worse than mine:

	I’ll be a dandy and I’ll be a rover
	You’ll know who I am by the song that I sing.
	I’ll feast at your table, I’ll sleep in your clover
	I’ll something…something…

	“I really didn’t remember it clearly,” I said. “I thought it went something like that. If we marry, I’ll never be a dandy or a rover. I’m honest with you when I say I want to be with you until death do us part. It’s the second line I sang that I thought about when I saw your breasts.”

She looked down at her breasts and asked, “Strawberries?”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve always thought that line referred to, his lover’s breasts. And I also believe the line about drinking her sweet wine can only refer to one thing.”

“You’d bury your face in this bush,” and she gestured downward, “to get to my sweet wine?”

“I love your bush,” I replied. “Please don’t ever shave it. If you want it trimmed, I’d love to help with that. But I want to see that red hair while I’m down there. You can check my teeth to see if there’s any hair before I go out the door.”

“You really want to do that - for yourself or for me?”

“For myself. For some reason, that’s a part of sex that I love. It’s a big turn-on for me. I believe you’ll learn to love it too.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to be about sucking your dick. Will it make you unhappy if I’m not as fond of oral sex as you are? I’ve done it a little but I’ve never had a guy come in my mouth.”

“I hope I can give you thousands of orgasms using my mouth on you. I know your cunt will be all wet and juicy when I do. It won’t bother me to get it in my mouth. I think you’re probably like most women. I believe they don’t mind having their lover’s cock in their mouth; they just don’t like what happens when he comes.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she answered. “I’ve never done it that long before. I don’t know whether I’d gag or spit it out or swallow.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’d like you to use your mouth on me but I don’t have any real desire to come in your mouth. I look at it as foreplay. I want to come in your cunt; that’s the place where it’ll be the most satisfying for me, where it’ll feel totally right.”

“So you’re being honest if it turns out I don’t want to make you come with my mouth, when you do it for me?”

“If I didn’t squirt out all those spurts of semen when I come, would you be more willing to do it?” I asked.

“I think so,” she answered.

“Then quit worrying about it. I’ve told you it’s not something I’m obsessive about. If you ever do make me come in your mouth, do what you want to with it. Spit it out on my stomach. Swallow it. Hold it long enough to come up and give me a kiss and I’ll share it with you.”

“Damn, Kieran,” she said, “that’s a thought that really appeals to me. Would you really let me do that?”

“Sure, I’ll let you. I’ll even help you, but now let me pose another question to you. What do you think of anal sex?”

She frowned at me, with an expression of disgust. “I don’t. I’ve never done it and I don’t think I’d ever want to.”

“There’s a reason I ask the question,” I said. “Anal sex is something I could do to you but there’s no way you can do it to me. It’s a one-way street. It’s something we can never share equally. We can share oral sex, even though we do it differently. I brought it up to emphasize one point: if I ever try to do anything to you or with you that you don’t want to do, just tell me. I’ll never force you to do anything.”

“Have you ever done it, anal sex, I mean?” she asked.

“Yeah, once with a girl in college. I thought I loved her but, when we first started having sex, she said something that cut through me to my heart. I did it to her out of anger or meanness or something like that.”

“What’d she do to make you feel like that?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you some day when we’re alone, relaxing with each other, and there’s no hurry to do anything. It might take an afternoon or evening to tell you the whole story. A short version could never tell the whole truth of how I felt and why.”

“Here,” she said, handing me the pearl choker. “Put this around my neck again and let’s go to bed. You may do whatever you want to fulfill your fantasy.”

In her bedroom, I was struck by the way in which she had evidently prepared the scene. With the drapes drawn and the room lit only by two small lights on each side of the bed, the world seemed to be shut out. The bed had a blue and gold and ivory spread that had already been folded down almost to the foot of the bed. The pillows and sheets were a matching ivory color and looked almost silky or satiny.

I stood with her at the foot of the bed, looking at it, and then turned to her. I pulled her against me and bent my head to bring my mouth down to hers.

That moment - when she was first pressed against me, both of us nude, her breasts burning against my chest, my cock throbbing against her stomach, our mouths and lips and tongues hungry for the other, our arms wrapped around each other, both with a buttocks hold on the other, believing and knowing for the first time that our bodies would soon be joined – was seared into my memory and will be there as long as I live.

She pulled away from me and moved onto the bed, stretching out on one side, with her arms open to welcome and her legs spread to reveal to me the area just below the flaming bush on her Mound of Venus. It looked to me like the entrance to Heaven, the Pearly Gates, except that her gates weren’t pearly, perhaps pink or coral.

I moved onto the bed too, and then on top of her. Her legs spread wider, tempting me to enter the gates to heaven, but I reached down and positioned my cock upward so that it was resting on her stomach, pressed down by mine, imprisoned between us. I looked her briefly in the eyes, kissed her softly, and then buried my face in the curve of her neck, in the red hair covering the pillow. 

“Can we stay like this forever?” I asked.

“No, not forever, but at least for a while,” she answered.

“You’re really going to let me fulfill my fantasy about you?” I asked. “You’re not going to laugh at me no matter how silly some of it seems?”

“I’ll laugh with you,” she responded. “I’m so happy I’m bubbling over. If you tickle me the wrong way, I’ll probably burst out in giggles.”

Eventually I rolled off her, stretched out on my side looking at her. “Turn over, please, on your stomach,” I requested.

She looked at me with questions in her eyes but did as I asked. She turned her head toward me, to see what I wanted to do.

I began by simply placing one hand in the middle of her back. Softly I moved it up to her neck, around her shoulders and down her sides, feeling the soft mounds of her breasts pressed out beneath her ribs. I moved downward then, to her ass, memorizing the look and feel of it, making no effort to separate her cheeks or legs. I moved down her legs, thighs, calves, feet, and then started back up again. When I reached her ass, she started to spread her legs but I stopped her.

I got up on my knees and moved over her body, straddling her at about her knees. Now with both hands, I began to learn the feel of her body, pressing harder this time, moving from thighs to ass to back and to shoulders. When I massaged her back and shoulders, she purred like a cat.

My cock was rigid now, sticking up at its typical angle. I leaned over and down on her until my cock was pressed against the crack of her ass.

“Can we stay like this forever?” I asked again, burying my face in her red hair again, inhaling the fresh scent of hair and her shampoo.

“I’ll kill you if you do,” she whispered, muffled by the pillow. 

“Then turn over,” I instructed, still on my knees straddling her body.

She did and then looked at me, my face first and then down toward my cock.

“Is that for me?” she asked.

“Yes,” I responded, “but not today. Next Saturday.”

I placed both hands on her stomach and began the slow process of learning the feel of her body, moving upward out of the bowl of her stomach, over the plateau of her rib cage, to the sweet hills of her breasts, the strawberry peaks erect and hard, down to her shoulders, and then back down again toward the flaming bush that was cradling my balls. I held my cock in one hand and moved it up and down.

“Can I beat you with this?” I asked.

I swung it up and down more vigorously now, slapping it against her stomach on each downward movement. She giggled, then looked up at me and saw the smile on my face.

“Can I try it?” she asked. I nodded wordlessly.

She reached down with one hand and repeated the same movement, slapping it against her stomach, but also stroking the skin back and forth. I knew better than to let her continue; I knew I would soon spray a load onto her beautiful stomach and breasts. 

I moved off her and asked her to turn over on her stomach again. This time I used my mouth, tracing a path from her shoulders, down over her back, lingering only a moment on her ass, down her legs to her feet. When I bent back one leg at the knee and took her toes in my mouth, she started giggling. When I ran my tongue between her toes, one at a time, she must have understood that as a signal of what was to come. She stopped and tried to look back at me.

I started licking and kissing and sucking my way up her legs. When I reached the juncture of her left thigh and ass cheek, I remembered one little fantasy I had always wanted to do to a woman. I kissed here in the crease and murmured, “Can I give you a hickey right here?”

“Why?” she asked. “Isn’t that a little weird?”

“No, it’s something I’ve always wanted to do and never had the courage to try. When I was in college and looked at the girls on campus, I’d imagine grabbing one, throwing her down on the ground, up with her skirt and down with her panties, and then fastening my mouth just here. I wanted to bite them and suck right here until I left my mark on them. I thought it was strange too until one day a bunch of us guys were talking about sex stuff and I brought it up. They all looked at me for a minute and I thought they’d think me a pervert. But then, one by one, they began to admit that they’d like to do it too.”

“OK, then,” she said, “bite my butt.”

With my nose just between her legs, I began sucking on her. A couple of minutes later, when she began to squirm, I pulled off and looked at my handiwork, I mean mouth work. It was a beautiful passion purpura.

I continued up her back to her neck, kissing her and licking her all along the way and then asked her to turn over again.

I looked directly into her eyes for a minute and then lowered my lips to hers. She placed one hand behind my head and held me tight while we opened our mouths to each other. When she released me, I moved downward toward my final goal. I kissed her on her neck first and then moved down to those beautiful breasts.

For a minute or so, all I could do was look at them. They were somewhat flattened while she was on her back, but the nipples were erect and did look somewhat like strawberries. I cupped her breasts with both hands and lowered my mouth to one nipple. She brought her hands up, pushed mine aside, and held her breasts up to my mouth. I feasted on them, finally realizing part of my fantasy about her. When I felt her squirming underneath me, I decided it was time to move down to my final goal.

I stopped only momentarily on her navel and then proceeded down through the flaming bush. I knew I’d never think of it in any other way.

As I moved downward over her, I pulled her legs apart and placed my knees between. When she was spread-eagled on the bed, I moved back farther, so that I could lay down with my mouth directly at her vulva. When I had seen her earlier, the inner lips had been only slightly open; now they were spread out on each side, like butterfly wings, and the opening into her was red and shining with wetness.

I brought my mouth in contact with her and ran my tongue from the bottom of her slit up to the top, licking up the juices coming out of her. I heard her gasp once and then I started down and up again. For a while I just licked at her, opening her up more with each turn, until she was spread wide enough to welcome my cock. Finally I stopped at the top, used my thumbs to pull apart the soft flesh on each side and found her clitoris smiling up at me. I began to alternate between licking it with my tongue and sucking on it with my lips. It was only seconds when she grabbed my head, pulled me roughly against her cunt, and started throbbing in orgasm.

Finally, she made me stop.

“I can’t take it any more,” she said, breathlessly.

“You haven’t taken it at all yet,” I said, as I rose up on my knees beside her. I wrapped my hand around my cock, still bone-rigid after being erect for more than an hour.

“You know what I mean,” she said, “I can’t take your mouth on me anymore. You’ve made me come twice already and that last one seemed to last forever. I’ve got to rest a few minutes and then I want to do something about that boner of yours.”

I lay down beside her, my right hand holding her breast, looking at her face. Her red hair was all tousled and spread out on the pillow, framing her face. I knew I had never seen anyone more beautiful.

We lay there for a while, quietly talking, my hand gently playing with her breasts. At length, I felt her hand touching my hard-on. She wrapped her hand around it and squeezed lightly. When she pulled down toward the head, I knew she felt the lubrication that poured out of the head of my penis.

“How can you stand it, to be like this for so long?” she asked. “I can feel it drooling on my hand. Is the poor thing ready to be satisfied?”

“Yeah, I think it’s ready. Do whatever you wish to relieve the poor thing. It always drools like that when I’ve been aroused for a while. You know you’re going to have to wash the sheets when we’re done. You’re going to find pecker tracks all over it wherever I touched down with it while I was between your legs.”

She rolled over on her side and pushed me over on my back, still holding on to my cock. As I stretched out, she started to move her hand gently up and down.

“Is this the way you like it?” she asked. “Just holding onto the skin and moving my hand up and down, without touching the head directly?”

“Sure,” I responded, “that works for me. If you stroke it on the head, just don’t do it with a dry hand. Make sure there’s some kind of lubrication, whether it’s what comes out of me, or out of your mouth, or maybe baby oil, if we’re not going to be fucking. I don’t think you want baby oil inside you.”

She stroked up and down for a while and I could feel the pressure slowly building. I was about to ask her to do it faster when she surprised me. She leaned over me and took the head of my cock in her mouth, her red hair falling around her face so that I could feel but not see what she was doing. She sucked strongly on the head and then released the suction and ran her tongue around the head, the corona, and especially the sensitive frenulum under the head. Her hand movements became faster and I could feel the semen beginning to boil up inside me, ready to be spurted out.

“Take your mouth off,” I whispered. “I’m gonna come.”

I was surprised when she ignored me. She seemed to try even harder to make me come. A few more seconds and I knew I was going to blast off. When it began, I was doubly surprised when she kept her mouth still, covering the head of my penis, while I gave out a long series of spurts. At length, I knew I was finished and evidently she did too.

She straightened up on her knees, her hand on my chest now, and looked directly in my eyes. Her mouth was pursed, holding in everything, with a faint Mona Lisa-like smile playing around the corners. She moved up toward my face bringing her mouth closer to mine. Finally she stopped, her mouth only inches above mine, her eyes still locked on mine. I understood what she wanted and I opened my mouth wide. When I did, she opened her lips slightly, allowing the contents of her mouth to run out. I could see a mixture of her saliva and the strands of my semen drooling out of her, into my mouth. When she finished, I closed my mouth but didn’t swallow the contents.

She waited above me, watching me to see what I’d do. When I swallowed the first time, she brought her mouth down to mine, pushed my lips open with her tongue, and kissed me with a ferocity that surprised me. I rolled her over on her back, our mouths still together. I could feel and taste the semen still in my mouth. I pushed my tongue into her mouth repeatedly, playing at fucking her mouth with my tongue. She held my head behind with one hand, pulling me against her. After a few more seconds, she pushed me back down and I rolled over on my back again. We kept at it again and again, rolling over and over, tongue-fucking each other, swallowing the remnants of my come and our combined saliva.

At length, she pulled away from me, out of breath. My chest was heaving as much as hers was. Her eyes never left mine.

“I’ve never done that before,” she whispered. “I didn’t think I’d want to but, when I felt your cock in my mouth, I wanted it all. Did I do good?”

Afterward we lazed around in bed for an hour or two. I occasionally kissed her gently, the long open-mouthed kisses that I was convinced were her favorites. I would suck softly on her nipples and lick her breasts, while fingering her pussy. She was sopping wet down there and my fingers slipped in and out with no resistance. She played with my cock off and on, not trying to raise it to erection, just satisfied to keep it in a half-hard state.

At length, we got up for another shower together. Afterwards we pulled out more of the deli food and ate, still naked together, sitting on the floor on a blanket.

We finally curled up together on the bed and turned on the television. She found an old movie we both liked and we watched that, still playing with each other. My cock was drooling again and she moved down on the bed and watched it, milking it with one hand and rubbing the lubrication around on the head with the one finger. Occasionally she’d take it in her mouth and lick it clean.

“Could we do something new,” I asked, “at least new for us?”

“What’s that?” she responded.

“The French call it soixante-neuf; we call it sixty-nine.”

“I know what it is, Kieran,” she said. “I can speak a little French. I’ve never done it before though. I don’t think I’d like a guy to get on top of me and do that.”

“It can be done with the woman on top, Siobhan. I think I can understand why you don’t want me on top. That way you can’t control how much of my cock is in your mouth. If I get carried away, I could gag you or hurt you. We can try it with both of us on our sides. Just use your imagination. I’m not ever going to ask you to do anything you don’t like.”

I turned around, with my head toward the foot of the bed and tugged at her to get her to straddle my face. At first she was on her hands and knees above me and seemed unsure of what to do next. I pulled her body down until she was lying on top of me, her breasts on my lower stomach, and her cunt just below my chin. When she relaxed on me, I used my hands to lift her hips just a few inches until I could tilt my head and bring my mouth in contact with her cunt. Her lips were just slightly open, already a rosy pink and glistening with her juices. I began licking her, long licks from her clitoral shaft, back over her vaginal lips, even to the rosy bud of her anus. When my tongue touched her there, she stiffened. I mumbled to her to relax and enjoy it, that she was perfectly clean back there. I went back to licking her and felt her take the head of my cock in her mouth.

I tried to figure out how to get her clitoris out from under its hood, to get to it. I finally managed to get my hands under her so that my thumbs were both pointing inward. After a little blind feeling, I managed to get them in position to stretch the soft flesh of her outer lips apart, hoping that would pull the hood back. When I resumed with my tongue, I could feel the hard bump with the tip. I heard her moan and she began to suck harder on my cock.

The outside world began to recede and I closed my eyes, lost in the taste and scent and feel of her. I was conscious only of what my mouth was doing with her and what hers was doing to me.

Seconds? Minutes? Hours? No time? Who knows? At some point, she began to squirm against my face, pressing back against me. I took that as a signal that she was about to come and so I concentrated on the area around her clitoris, trying to suck it into my mouth, flicking my tongue up and down against it. Suddenly she pressed back against me even harder, covering my mouth and nose so that I couldn’t breathe. I could barely feel her contractions as she started groaning. When I couldn’t hold it any longer, I dropped my head down and caught my breath. I could feel her chest heaving for breath on top of me.

After a minute or so, she resumed her efforts on my cock. She held the head in her mouth, rapidly stroking up and down on the shaft. I let time and surroundings fade away again. All too soon, I felt another rising tide of semen demanding release. I wasn’t sure whether she wanted me to come in her mouth and so, at the last second, I said her name and whispered, “I’m coming.”

She took her mouth off my cock and turned her head to one side, trying to look back at me. “What did you say?”

At just that moment, my body let loose, spurting into open air, come landing I knew not where. She stayed on top of me until I was finished and, with one lick, I assumed, she got the last oozing drops. When she turned around, I couldn’t help but laugh. She had dripping come across one cheek and all around her mouth and chin. She smiled at me.

“Pardonnez-moi, monsieur,” she said, “Avez-vous a fucking towel?”

We turned out the lights early and curled up with each other, talking about everything, jumping from one subject to another. Finally, she turned her back to me and spooned up against me. When I wrapped one arm around her, she took my hand in hers and held it against her breast. I don’t remember fading away into sleep.

<><><>

On Sunday morning, I woke up with her curled up next to me, one arm across my chest, and one leg thrown over mine. My cock was bone hard as it often was if I woke up with a full bladder. I lifted her arm and pushed her leg off me and tried to quietly slip out of bed.

“Don’t go,” she said, eyes still closed, sleep still in her voice.

“Gotta pee,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

She opened her eyes and watched me as I stood up and walked toward the bathroom. My stiff cock was standing out, bobbing up and down with each step. When I stood over the toilet, it took me a minute or so to get it to relax enough to relieve myself. By the time I finished, it was only half tumescent. I washed my face, dried it, and went back in the bedroom.

She had thrown back the sheet and lay naked before me, stretching and moaning with pleasure as she woke up. I stood at the foot of the bed and watched, wishing that I could remember this moment as long as I lived. Finally she crawled out of bed and stood up.

“Gotta pee,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

When she came back a few minutes later, she smiled at me and then came to me, wrapped her arms around me, pressed against me, and laid her head against my shoulder.

“Can we do what I often like to do on Sunday morning?” I asked.

“Not yet,” she murmured, “not until next weekend.”

“Seriously, I’d like to go get us a newspaper and something for breakfast,” I said. “I like to read the paper, have breakfast in bed, and do the crossword puzzle. In the Sunday edition, it’s always hardest.”

“That’s fine with me,” she answered, “I know a great bakery that’s open this morning. You’ll find a paper there too.” She pushed away from me and looked up into my eyes. “There’s something you need to do before you go.”

“What’s that?”

“Take a shower. You do smell a little sexy and I’m sure I do too. Then put on some jeans and a shirt. I’ll shower while you’re gone and then I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

<><><>

When I returned, I smelled fresh coffee as soon as I opened the door. I could hear her humming a tune in the bedroom so I walked in. She was standing in front of a mirror, completely naked, brushing her hair. I stood watching her for a minute or so. She was watching me in the reflection of the mirror.

“Do you really like watching me comb my hair that much?” she asked. “Is it really such a turn on for you?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, pretending that I wasn’t getting a hard-on from just looking at her.

She walked over to me, pulled my knit shirt up, unsnapped my jeans and pulled them down around my hips. My penis popped out, already well on its way to another rigid erection.

“This is what I mean,” she said, “I think I’ve found what I want for breakfast, and maybe lunch and dinner. Would you call that a sausage or a hot dog?”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” I replied. “I want to spend a quiet morning with you. Let’s have some croissants and coffee and read the paper.”

“I fixed something else for breakfast while you were gone,” she said. “It’s a bowl of fruit. Would you get it out of the refrigerator?”

When I pulled it out of the fridge I saw that it was cut up bananas and fresh red cherries. I wondered if there was something symbolic about that.

After we finished breakfast and the paper and the puzzle, I decided to see if she was willing to allow one more barrier to be broken down.

“You do understand what I’m trying to do with you, don’t you?” I asked. 

“I think so,” she replied, “you’re testing me to see what I’m willing to do with you. You needn’t worry. I’m not a prim and proper person. I’ve never done anything sexually that I haven’t liked.”

“I think of it as breaking down barriers. If we’re going to have the sort of relationship I want, we’ve got to be totally naked with each other in the physical sense but in all other ways too. I want to know your body and your mind as well as I know my own. I don’t want you to think that there’s something wrong with opening ourselves up to each other totally.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she answered. “You’re not the one who has to open up; you just fill the opening.”

“I can’t argue with that, but let’s try something that doesn’t require me to fill the opening. I want to see you masturbate while I’m doing it too.”

“That’s kind of silly, isn’t it?” she said. “Why should we do that when we’ve got each other?”

“’Cause it’s what I want. I want you to prop up against the headboard with me at the foot. We’ll cover the bed with towels. I want to watch you do yourself. And I’ll jerk off while you’re doing it.”

She moved up to the top of the bed, with a pillow behind her and spread her legs out in a vee. I moved to the bottom of the bed and did the same. We found, with our long legs, that presented a problem. Our feet overlapped. She solved the problem by raising hers and putting them back down on my ankles.

I started first, wrapping my hand in the usual way around the shaft of my cock. I pulled upward and my foreskin slid over the head; I pulled downward and the head was totally exposed, with the skin on my dick stretched tight downward. I continued slowly, looking all the time at the area between her legs.

She dropped her hand down to her pussy, slowly teased the lips apart, and inserted one finger. Within a minute or so, the lips splayed open by themselves, showing their coral-colored flesh inside, glistening in the light with her secretions. She kept rubbing in the same area, inside her, changing to two fingers, and I could see that they quickly became wet with her juices. Only then did she move her fingers upward toward her clitoris. I don’t know what I expected, maybe that she would pull back the clitoral hood and stroke it with her fingers, but she seemed to want to avoid direct contact of fingers and clit. She held the two fingers, one on each side of her clit, and rubbed sideways for a while and then up and down. Occasionally she would reach downward for more lubrication. 

I watched, fascinated, almost forgetting to do what I was supposed to do. When I remembered, I decided that I wanted my cock to be lubricated too and, if I couldn’t produce it as well as she could, I’d ask for it.

“Do you have any baby oil?” I asked. 

“In the bathroom, in the second drawer on the left. It’s not baby oil. It’s after-bath oil and it’ll smell girly instead of baby. I think it’ll do.”

I returned a minute later and got into position. As I started to open it, she asked, “Why do you need it? I thought you could jack off without lubrication.”

“I can. I could probably fuck you when your cunt’s not lubricated but I know that’s not going to be any great pleasure for either of us. If I’m doing it for myself, this makes it better, especially at the end if I get a little rough on my cock.”

I poured a small amount on the head of my cock and smeared it all over the head and shaft. Then I went back to stroking it. She didn’t have anything else to say to me and I certainly didn’t either. We watched each other. I was open mouthed, breathing heavily. She was the same, except that I could see a pink or red flush on her chest and on her breasts. I tried to slow down a little, not wanting the pleasure of watching her while stroking my cock to end. When we started, I knew my balls were hanging down low between my legs, my scrotum completely relaxed and soft. Now it was drawn up tight against the base of my cock, both balls enclosed in one rounded mound. I knew that was typical when I was about to come.

She reached down with the other hand and pulled upward on the skin above her cunt. She moved the first hand aside for a moment and I could see the small protrusion of her clit, bright red and glistening. She started stroking again, gently rubbing against her clitoris. I watched, feeling my own orgasm building, while she rubbed. When I looked up at her face, her smile had turned into some sort of grimace, as I knew mine did when I was coming. I pulled downward on the skin of my dick with one hand and began to stroke up and down over the head, my hand flying as fast as I could make it. She was rubbing herself faster and faster too. It seemed to have turned into a race and I lost.

I groaned with the first spurt. It flew out and landed about halfway between us. The other spurts laid down a trail back toward my crotch. I milked the last few out on the towel between my legs. 

I suppose she started to come after I did. I could see her body tense up and she stopped rubbing. She was breathing as heavily as I was. We both looked up at about the same time, our eyes interlocking.

<><><>

After lunch, we watched another old movie on television, fooling around with each other all the time. When the movie was over, she didn’t protest when I crawled back between her legs. This time, I got on my knees between her legs, put both hands under her butt, and lifted her up until I could bend over slightly and bring my mouth to her cunt. It was an awkward position but, to me, it was like serving a hearty meal to a starving man. I licked and sucked all over her cunt before setting down to her clitoris. She moaned loudly when her orgasm hit and I almost dropped her. I managed to keep her suspended in mid-air and my mouth on her cunt until my arms finally gave out.

I dropped her back down on the bed and turned her, her thighs still spread, her calves hanging down. I moved off the bed and knelt down beside it, bent over with my face still at her cunt. I kept licking her, gently now, licking up the juices flowing out of her, stiffening my tongue and fucking her with it, slurping up over her clitoris. I wanted to see if women were really capable of multiple orgasms so close together; I knew I wasn’t. After a few minutes, I learned the answer; she was. When she finished, I leaned over her, my head on her stomach, my hands on her breasts, while she rested.

“You will take my last name, won’t you?” I asked. “If you combine your name, Siobhan, with my last name, Stuart, I think it has a pleasing effect on the tongue. Siobhan Stuart. Siobhan Stuart.”

“The next time your tongue is busy between my legs, how about saying Siobhan Stuart about a hundred times?” she giggled. “If you do, I’ll take your last name.”

We probably stayed that way for a few minutes, just resting and talking. Finally, she pushed me back and rose up to a sitting position on the side of the bed.

“Stand up,” she ordered. “You’ve been a very bad boy to do me like that and now you’re going to get it.”

I wasn’t sure what IT was but I was ready. When I stood up, my cock was pointing upward from my body at its usual forty-five degree angle. The head was drooling with the clear lubrication that always came out. 

She pulled it down so that it was pointed straight at her face and licked the head clean. When that was done to her satisfaction, she opened her mouth and engulfed the head of my cock. She started sucking with all the strength she could muster and at the same time moving her hand up and down my shaft as fast as possible. I knew I wasn’t going to last long.

She brought her other hand up, cupping my balls in the palm of her hand, pressing her fingers into the area just behind my scrotum. 
 
“I’m gonna come,” I said.

She took her mouth off momentarily and said, “Don’t talk about it; do it.” When she started sucking again, I felt I had given her fair warning and she could do whatever she wanted to with my load.

I suppose that it was an involuntary reaction. I grabbed her behind her head and starting moving my hips back and forth, fucking her mouth. It took only seconds and I came, spurt after spurt, all deposited at the back of her mouth. 

She was holding her breath. When I finished, she pushed me back until my cock was out of her mouth. She looked up at me and swallowed. Then she smiled.

<><><>

When we finally went to sleep Sunday night, we were face to face, our arms and legs intertwined. When we woke up on Monday morning to the alarm clock, she was spooned up against me. My arm was wrapped around her, my hand holding her breast. My cock was semi-erect between her thighs, with its usual morning need to pee.

I thought to myself, “I could really get to like this.”

<><><>

“And now here we are,” my wife said, “in the same position, with two kids asleep in their rooms and another inside me, just waiting to make a grand entrance. Or exit. Whatever.”

“Yes,” I answered, “isn’t it wonderful?

“You’re right,” she answered. “We’ve made ourselves a wonderful family.”

“So now,” I asked, “may I turn you over on your back, lift your nightgown, and make love to you with my mouth again, like I did back then?”

“If you’re sure you’re doing it because you want to, not just to make me happy. But don’t be surprised if I don’t come. With the pressure from the baby, I’m not sure how everything will respond.”

I wasn’t surprised. She did come, not once but twice, once for each time I said her name.

Our third child, our second son, Kerry, was born in less than three weeks. He was and is a beautiful perfect boy.


TO BE CONTINUED:



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