"Foreplay" {Pendragon} (MF rom wl oral) FOREPLAY by Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net
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All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. # # # #
FOREPLAY by Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net BOB Brennan finished his second sandwich and started to stack dishes while still seated.
"Lovely dinner Mrs. Brennan."
"Oh Bob," Jeanette answered. "If I made more...."
"You make more than I do. That's for sure. You cook better, too. I don't moan and groan about being a drone."
"You planned that!" Actually, he hadn't. It had come after "moan and groan."
"I'll never tell. Look, you are a lovely woman. You are a great wife. We put *your* education on hold. Self-depreciation makes no sense. Anyway, I like fancy ramen. I like toasted cheese sandwiches. I like the cook." He got up to kiss Jeanette.
She pulled his face into hers for a minute's kiss, then got up so they could kiss standing. Each had hands on the other's rump. He started to knead. Jeanette broke the kiss.
"Do I have time for a shower and ..." she asked. They were perfectly open with family, friends, and casual acquaintances about using contraception. Somehow, between themselves it had become a verbal hiatus.
"I'm going to let the dishes soak. Get prepared, but not the shower."
"Dirty dishes and a dirty wife?"
"I washed the dishes yesterday, and the game begins with a shower." JEANETTE went into the bathroom, stripped, reached out and put her in the hamper. She prepared and inserted the diaphragm. Then she used the toilet.
Inserting the diaphragm bothered her. She loved sex -- truly she did. But she wanted it to be spontaneous. There had been times, before the marriage, when she could have been swept across the divide. Bob, of course, was committed to not betraying her. She'd expected to enjoy marital intercourse but had been surprised at how *much* sheer pleasure she received.
First Bob's hands and then his penis had wrenched orgasm after pulsing orgasm from her. She had enjoyed them all, but the honeymoon had included a gorgeous dinner and two luxurious breakfasts. She had enjoyed them too. The future would be better if it included all these pleasures than if it didn't, but not immeasurably so.
If she could only keep three memories from the honeymoon, one would be the fifteen almost uninterrupted days with Bob. Another would be the repeated times he gasped and chanted his love and passion for her in the starlit tent. If she could only keep one, it would be the memory of Bob's stopping to worry about her pain at a point when, she now knew, he would have ignored a fire in the room. Then he looked so concerned and sorry that he had her.
In between, of course, he had her. But, if you are spontaneous, the first time hurts. She had been offered options and refused them. Her pain Bob more than it her, probably more than any pain of his ever had. Bob put her interests before his, as often as not. No one else in the whole world ever had.
What Bob called games bothered her more than the contraception. She was not above planning a little something herself, like preparing a meal that could wait before ambushing Bob with her bra off. But those ideas arose spontaneously, they weren't scheduled. She didn't plan beyond just having sex while Bob wanted to plan different kinds of sex.
He had suggested one night a week for experiments, or games. She had agreed on the condition that she could choose half the games. He agreed.
She had taken first choice last week. If he wanted games, Jeanette could play games. She had chosen 'missionary.' It had seemed a triumph then. Bob was not going to be in a mood for compromise tonight. BOB rinsed the dishes under the faucet and stacked them in soapy water.
The dishes were fancy enough to serve company and could go from freezer to microwave without damage. They didn't have a microwave. They were newlyweds.
He figured that Jeanette was subconsciously looking for a fight. Seducing a woman who was feeling negative is not the easiest task in the world, but Bob felt the future pressing in on him. Jeanette had said "no" to premarital intercourse. He'd traded that for nominal agreement that "Marriage is about sex." Any agreement of that generality with Jeanette was nominal.
He suspected that anything major that they did not adopt in the next nine months, they wouldn't try. Cunnilingus, standing sex, sitting sex, doggie style, these were his goals. Subtle variations could follow. Sex was never going to be as central in her universe as it was in his, but this year was on his side. Sex was what newlyweds did. If, this year, he could show her all the joy, then it would become important enough.
He loved this girl, a that he was usually careful to call a woman. He had gladly promised to have sex exclusively with her. He agreed that the marriage license was a license to seduce rather than a license to rape.
But she, quite unconsciously, governed their sex life with a veto. If you talked about it, it wasn't romantic and spontaneous. If you didn't talk about it, it was an unacceptable surprise. She thought it was perverse to plan times for sex, he thought it was perverse to plan activities which meant that there would be no time for sex.
After stripping outside the bathroom, he went in and hung all his clothes on the back of the door. She was standing in the tub, dressed in a shower cap. Period.
Her beauty kept taking him by surprise. He felt that the lush curves on hip and of the 19-year-old were an undeserved bonus. The he had fallen in love with had been 14 and straight as a stick.
She was 5' 8" and stood absolutely straight. Her face was cute, rather than beautiful or sexy, with wide-spaced blue eyes, a button nose, and a wide mouth. She had made the girls' track team in High School, and her body still carried no superfluous pound. She stood with the balance of a cat.
Strong legs met in a wide cantilever (whose widening explained why her times had barely improved between her sophomore and senior years). The delta between was wide and outthrust. All the trimness of the rest of her body was denied by the lushness of the black curls covering that area and by her proud, high breasts. These were B cups, and they came directly forward, staring now at him as directly as he was at them. The pinkish brown areolae were nearly as wide as the four fingers of his hand. The nipples could stand out, as he knew, more than a half inch. They were a quarter inch now, and starting to grow under his inspection.
He wasn't the only one doing inspecting. His erection was at four o'clock, and she was smiling at it. He brushed his teeth at the sink before he spoke.
"The name of the game," he stated in a formal voice, "is foreplay. The second stage is a shower in which Bob washes Jeanette and himself."
"You're no fun. That's not fair! Why second?"
He knew that she would get to the main question sooner or later. He joined her in the tub, took her hands and put them on his shoulders, pulled her chin up, and kissed her.
He pressed her lips with his for a second before parting his. Her mouth opened, but his tongue explored the insides of her lips first. When he went between her teeth, she opened wider and met him with her tongue. These played tag until his dodged back into his mouth. When hers followed he on it gently. Junior had moved from four o'clock to two o'clock, and it was time to take a shower. He broke the kiss.
The tub was a new one-piece fiberglass molding. It had two rubber anti-skid pads semi-permanently attached to the bottom. All the plumbing had been installed during a Clinton administration, the tub-shower in Bill's, the rest in DeWitt's. Jeanette got far back while he adjusted the faucets. He lifted the diverter and got scalded, then frozen. When the flow had normalized, he soaked. They shifted places so she could soak while he soaped. When they shifted again, he began to wash her. JEANETTE could learn to enjoy this, sex play apart. Her back really got scrubbed. He knelt to wash her legs and feet. She didn't feel that her needed so much attention, but the attention was very gentle.
The first time they had done this, Jeanette had explained that the amount of soap and soapy time that he had given her cleft was probably bad for the sensitive skin there. She should do the washing. She had expected arguments, maybe a promise to do it better. He had agreed with suspicious alacrity. Then he claimed that, since any remaining soap was a threat to their mutual pleasure, he should help on the rinsing. Today he helped quite thoroughly.
Okay, it was a turn on. So was the memory of that supple mind. She would love Bob even if all they could do was talk.
He rinsed what parts of himself hadn't been hit by the shower in passing. Then he got out and dried himself while she rinsed herself off and turned off the water. There was easily room for two in the tub. There was barely room for two in the rest of the bathroom.
He was waiting with a luxurious terry-cloth sheet when she stepped out. They had of gorgeous new towels. The wedding presents had been heavy on bath towels, much better than punch bowls.
He wrapped her in the huge towel. Then he rubbed her down with a normal one, except where he patted her down with it. He was ridiculously protective of her breasts. He sat on the commode to rub her legs and to pat between them. He started out the door.
This was not a turn on. She stopped at his hanging clothes, removed the underwear, dropped them into the hamper, and continued on with both their clothes. "And he was *such* a neat camper," she confided to the ceiling.
He followed her through the kitchen and living room to the bedroom. He always managed to be behind her when she was walking naked, and many times when she was clothed. She had given up when they were in the house alone. She rolled her hips exaggeratedly.
She hung up his and her blouse and skirt in the closet, and his trousers on a hook. When she returned her attention to Bob, he again used a public-announcement voice.
"The third stage is a brief period in which Jeanette stands here and Bob kisses her in lots and lots of places."
"And when does Jeanette get to kiss?"
"When Bob kisses her on the mouth. And, of course, next week when it is her game." She was beginning to regret her gamesmanship.
"And why are we standing here when there is a perfectly comfortable bed over there?"
"Because kissing you on the bed is the *fourth* stage."
At that he turned her to kiss the back of her neck. That tickled and she wiggled. Bob put a hand on her butt, partially to restrain her, but she knew he was also enjoying the wiggle. As his mouth proceeded down her back it got less ticklish, and she stopped wiggling. He knelt to reach her butt. This kiss disturbed her without making her feel at all sexy.
He got her to turn around so he could reach the undersides of her breasts. She had to bend over for him to go further up in this position. She did, and he licked up to the crest of her right breast. The gentle suction on her nipple made it pulse with her heart beat and strain outward. Then he nibbled across the valley and on her other nipple. Feeling the awkwardness of the position, she straightened suddenly.
He kissed the bottom of that followed by a trail down her belly. He stopped at the belly button to give it a smack, but he didn't try to enter it with his tongue this time. He held her butt to keep her against his lips. He licked and a slow trail down her belly to her fur and then kissed all over it. He ended at the very bottom of her delta where the cleft was about to begin.
She was antsy, and her knees were beginning to feel weak. BOB could sense that Jeanette had passed the point of diminishing returns. He let her go, and she got into bed. He lit a scented candle before turning out the light. The candle lit the bed indirectly from the top of the dresser. She lay in a dimness with shadows which danced when drafts hit the candle.
He brought an internal struggle to bed. He was determined that the play had only begun. He wanted Jeanette writhing in desire for him before any penetration began, and he wanted to approach this goal slowly, passing along all her minor erogenous zones before he hit the major ones. Junior, on the other hand, wanted to climb inside Jeanette's lovely and stroke there until he exploded.
Bob started by kissing Jeanette all over her face, little pecks on her forehead and eyebrows, real kisses on her cheeks, a line of kisses down her nose. Then he reached her open mouth. His tongue and hers met in a race to penetrate the other's mouth. They pressed together, they played. She slipped hers under his. He reached for the roof of her mouth and just made it. He withdrew. She followed, to fall into his trap. He closed his lips over her tongue and gently, then hard. He licked the underside of her tongue once, and tasted sweetness.
JEANETTE was beginning to get into this.
Candlelight was romance. She had been a tough girl, a student and athlete who got good grades and good scores by hard work more than aptitude. She dared anyone to think that she was a dreamy romantic. Only Bob ever took that dare. She never admitted it to him, but she loved him for it. Similarly, she never asked for protection, never -- really -- wanted it. That Bob wanted to protect her always confounded her. Little kisses on her forehead were protective. By the time, Bob had reached her mouth, the notion that this was the wrong kind of sex had faded beneath the notion that this was the right man.
She met his mouth greedily, chased his tongue willingly into the trap, enjoyed it all.
Then he broke the kiss to drop to a more comfortable position. They kissed again and their tongues played between their mouths. She retreated, he followed, and she him. They relaxed into a quiet kiss, lip to lip.
Meanwhile, she enjoyed his caresses. He started at her shoulder and stroked down one arm, returned to the shoulder and stroked down her side to the hipbone. He was always fascinated by the way that stuck out when she lay on her side, to her it just did. He was silly to find it sexy, but -- in her present mood -- cutely silly.
The next stroke crossed the side of her left breast, and then his hand returned upward to cup the breast. He broke the kiss to start a little chain of kisses down her jaw line. She expected him to take a fast trip down her neck to the breast, but instead he moved toward her ear. That tickled, and she wiggled, but he licked surfaces that she had forgotten she had.
"Now, I'll have to wash it again," she teased. "And I sold my body to get it washed in the first place."`
"This is washing. Haven't you ever seen a cat."
"You don't qualify." She was tempted to grab Junior to prove it, but that would really be cheating.
Now, he started on her neck. This was a different kind of ticklish, and he tapped her nipple from time to time to emphasize it. When he pushed on her shoulder, she turned at his signal, even if it came at an odd time. He continued to kiss her neck and ended up at the voice box when she was lying straight. These were very gentle licks, and he didn't suck as he moved down the front of her neck until he hit bone. From there, his kisses were demanding as they traced a diagonal path toward her left breast.
Ascending the breast, he became more gentle. He licked all around the areola before settling in on the nipple. Once there, he played elaborate games. He would suck it in and then lick it, rub his lips in opposite directions and then suck it in again. She never figured out if the elaborate mouth play was supposed to distract her attention from the hand stroking down her belly towards her vulva. If so, it didn't work. It was definitely a nice feeling, though.
When his hand got to her delta, she spread her legs to give him room. He simply rested his hand there between her legs for a bit as if to imitate warm, thick, panties. She squeezed her legs together to say, "Hello, hand." Then she relaxed to give him room. He opened his mouth as wide as he could and in the entire top of her breast. He pulled back slightly to let it all ease out. He increased suction on the nipple, but it popped out. He kissed that nipple with a peck.
"I love you," he said on the way to the other breast.
As he at that nipple, he began to move his hand down below. On the pubic bone, he pressed down fairly hard with the heel of his hand and then let up, repeating this in a slow rhythm. When he eased up, his fingers moved gently over the outsides of her folds. Neither the suction on her breast, nor the motion between her legs brought on any sharp desire. All she really wanted was a little more of this.
The feelings, and the consciousness of being loved, and the dancing candlelight all worked together so that she floated in sensuous satisfaction and a bit of desire.
Nevertheless, when he kissed her right goodbye to move between her legs, she was glad enough that the time had come. She was ready, if not aching, for his entrance.
When he was kneeling between her legs, she scooted over towards the edge. They had learned to give the wet spot only necessary room. Bob suddenly looked very tall from her perspective, and Junior -- which she normally saw foreshortened -- looked correspondingly large. She felt a shiver of anticipation.
Then he bent over, lifted her leg, and kissed her ankle. The foreplay wasn't over. BOB kissed his way up her calf to her knee. He sensed that this wasn't doing much for either of them and hurried until he was on the inside of her thigh. There, just above the knee, he lavished a long wet kiss. From there he inched higher, with pecks and licks and sucks. She squirmed all the while. The squirming became more serious as he neared his goal. He reached his hand around to open her nether lips.
It was the first time he had really looked at it. God! She was beautiful there. He couldn't believe that he had tickled, toyed and pronged within such perfect beauty without knowing it.
Her bounteous outer lips were covered by black curls. Her inner lips were pink petals, thin to translucency in one dimension, long, and broad. It must have been a trick of the light, but it looked for an instant as if there were a glow from within. They had emerged slightly from between her outer lips before he had parted those, and had carried a little of the moisture out.
The complexity where all the lips met at the top was beauty folded into beauty like a rosebud just opening. Just below, there was a tiny node that he knew must be her clitoris. It looked more complex than the little nodule that he had touched.
"Bob, is something wrong?" Jeanette reminded him that he had stopped all activity. He was supposed to be arousing *her*.
"Nothing could be wrong. You are absolutely beautiful."
"Pfft. You think ..."
"Love, don't fight me on this. You can't see."
At the sight, he had forgotten to breathe. In speaking, he inhaled; and all the scent that he had freed by parting the lips struck him at once. There again was beauty, but his hindbrain got another message. The pressure to grind his face in that odor was so great that he could only avoid it by redirecting it upward. He kissed her mons pressing against it until he was afraid that he would even that.
He recovered and returned to her exposed cleft. He closed it gently with his fingers before kissing each of the outer lips. He licked the length of the edge of the inner ones from between. Here he got his first taste of her, slightly sweet and unbearably heady. He spread the inner labia to lick up each side. Trying to be gentle, he licked the area around her clitoris. Then he touched its head with his tongue tip.
When he had begun kissing, she had stiffened. Then she relaxed a little. Now she was stiffening again. He hoped it was passion rather than rejection, but his own passion was too engaged to find out.
He pressed his lips over the top of her cleft and widened them out. When he had as much as he could take while avoiding most of the curls, he in. Holding the suction, he licked the edges of the captured area. He let go and licked again. He withdrew enough to focus his eyes. As the clitoris looked slightly higher, he tried another touch.
The smell and taste had communicated directly to Junior, bypassing his brain. It was throbbing and demanding direct participation. He ignored it as well as he could. Jeanette was starting to move, a very slight undulation. This ended one worry. Her passion, also, was involved.
He caught one of her inner labia between his lips and gently, then licked the edge. He licked across the top of the cleft, catching her clitoris as he went. She stiffened more.
He figured that she was in fine shape, but he didn't think his back could last. Besides, this was supposed to go slow. He looked up at her across her belly. It took a moment but she focused on his face.
"Pass me that pillow down here, would you?" She did, and cooperated in getting it under her hips. "I love you. A lot." JEANETTE felt the kisses pass from her calf to her thigh. Three feelings tangled in her bath of lubricious compliance and partly drained it. The first was that it tickled, the second was that the kisses were arousing for all that, the third was that he was about to kiss her where she was unclean.
He stopped. She was sure that her smell had turned him off. Then he mumbled something about "Beautiful."
She flushed at the compliment, even as she rejected it. But he was speaking with conviction and then kissing her with force. She felt loved and kept silent.
When the actual kiss came, she rose up to tell him that this was unacceptable. That message from her head met another message coming the other way that it was thrilling. She collapsed back down.
No single caress was repeated. She was again swimming in sensation. Later she would want more, but now she only wanted this. Soft pulses started from her groin and she moved with them.
Then he asked her for the pillow. It pulled her out of her reverie. She passed him the pillow which had been under her head. Lying flat down was better somehow. When the pillow was adjusted he started over at her closed labia.
Soon the sensations began again. As she sank into them, there was a tightening between her heart and her stomach, as if there were a string between them. She reached down to pat his head, then held it to her. Soon the string stretched from her throat, which had tensed, to her groin.
Waves of sweetness rolled out of that kiss, and the string vibrated -- very slowly -- with those waves. This pulled her body into that motion. Then she stopped noticing her body.
There was only the string and Bob's lips and tongue. The string tightened and tightened. Bob was on her center, and there was only that sweet suction and the tightening string. The string got unbearably, chokingly, agonizingly, tight. Then it broke. And there wasn't anything at all. Except joy. She flew through joy, floated through joy, pulsed with joy, fell through joy.
She felt herself hit the bed. Bob's face was above hers, looking worried in the flickering light. He was asking questions but she couldn't answer until she caught her breath.
"Are you all right? Are you okay? Is anything wrong? Can I do anything?"
The code of their marriage. "Are you all right?" means "Did you have an orgasm too?" Well probably she did, something had happened, and -- in a moment -- she would remember what. "Are you okay?" asked if the contraceptive was in place. Hell of a time to ask. "Is anything wrong?" not in the code. But nothing can possibly be wrong when you feel this right. You can shut up and let me catch my breath.
Finally she pulled herself together, even if her breath still came in gasps. He really looked worried.
"I'm all right." And she *was*. That much she could remember. "What's wrong?"
"You looked real out of it."
"Was.... You've passed out ... and snored.... Just roll you over."
"Oh God!" He looked overjoyed. That sweet had worried about her.
She started to cry. Love overflowed for this caring boy. She grabbed his head and kissed him. After a second, she adjusted the kiss and opened both their mouths wide and pushed forward with her tongue. She wanted all of him.
BOB knew that the pillow shift had cost him some of her passion. It had also improved his access along with his comfort. He began more or less at the beginning, with kisses on her outer lips followed by a slight suction on the two inner ones together. Then he parted them to lick each and then the central cleft. By this time, Jeanette was as taut as ever. A look over her belly and between her sweet found her lying flat looking at the ceiling. Even from his vantage, she looked grim.
She grabbed his head and held him in place. He loved that response. He licked over the top area, once, twice. She tensed even more, but he'd lost the clitoris. Had he put on too much pressure? Well, there was nothing to do about it now. He went back to the licking and hoped for the best. He repeated the tonguing of the central cleft while listening to her breathing. It was definitely shallower. He explored all the junctions at the top with his tongue and her breath came shallower yet.
He settled down to a rhythm of a kiss at the top region alternated with a lick over the top half of her cleft. Her breathing came louder and her belly tightened until it almost raised her head off the bed. He kept on the pattern despite worrying whether he would start to irritate before she climaxed. By now, he was soaked in her odor and taste, and his own sexual tension was more than a little pressing.
Then she shuddered. Her hips were moving in a slow roll. He stopped worrying, she was there. He kept and licking while waiting for the inevitable conclusion. Her hips kept rolling and her body kept shaking. Her breath was noisier and she seemed to be hissing. He was when her nails bit into his scalp and she clutched him to the place. He tried in rhythm, but -- under those circumstances -- wasn't going to pull back the half inch that licking required.
Her nails let go. She rolled once more before seeming to collapse. He wiped his lips, fearing that her opinion of her ambrosia would differ from his, and moved up her body.
When he saw her face, it was utterly vacant and streaming tears. His panic was strong enough to damp his passion.
"Are you all right? ... Are you okay?" Hell, they'd turned those into special meanings. "Is anything wrong?" Her face finally looked inhabited, but she was breathing like a steam engine. After a while he asked: "Can I do anything?"
She visibly gathered herself together.
"I'm all right."
It took a while to communicate. She didn't have her breath back yet. But it dawned on him that she had had a monster of an orgasm. His smile stretched so wide it hurt. Her passion, like her beauty, was newer than their love. It was no free bonus, however. He'd slaved for every inch of progress. He loved her passion much more than her beauty, because it was closer to the spirit which enchanted him.
He was overjoyed. She was overjoyed as well and showed it with one of her sloppy, ill-aimed, kisses. These were the sweetest kisses in the world, because his favorite control-freak athlete only let her emotions over-rule her reflexes once in a blue moon. She hit his chin with her open mouth the first time and then moved him to meet her. They opened wide in an attempt to hug tongues. It can't be done, but the attempt is fun.
He tried to move enough to enter her during the kiss, but all the angles were wrong. She finally let him go. With the freedom to move, the angle was excellent. As he spread her lips, placed himself, and pressed slowly inward, she was almost chanting:
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!" That was when he was actually in her entrance. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Yessssss."
Then he met her mouth again, and he had entered her everywhere. JEANETTE could tell that he wanted all of her, as well. She finally let go on top so that they could join on the bottom. She could tell that he felt their oneness at that moment as well as she did. Even with her cheering him on, he was careful of her. He slid in rather than plunging in. The gentleness of this man's care brought tears to her eyes. She felt every movement of the slow entry, she felt him touch her mouth with his, and she felt another gentle penetration, this time by his tongue. She felt his first slow withdrawal and reentry. Then she felt nothing more.
Somehow, she tensed immediately. All the love and all the friction came together. She moved against him while he moved within her. Then something else was moving her. Again she flew, but this time it was through love. She came back, or almost back, to find that he was still moving within her. She heard him call out his love, and she flew through those sensations again. She came almost back and felt him drive deep within her and pulse. She seemed to feel his semen hit the sides of her vagina. He called her name, and she flew out into love and joy and warmth, but not very far. Then she fell quite slowly, and he was above her and in her arms and in her when she met the bed.
"Oh God, love," he said. She agreed completely.
He started to move away, and she tightened her hug.
"Say when," he said. BOB was amazed at her response. At his first stroke within her, she was tightening. On his second, her head dropped back from the kiss. On his third, he felt her pulsing around him. He pushed forward and made only thrusts without withdrawals. He thought that this should carry her through without setting him off. After a moment, he saw that this was impossible. Her clutching sheath was driving him over the brink. He resumed full strokes, abandoning any effort at control.
God! she was sexy. He loved her passion and told her so.
"Love you. I love you. Love. Love. Love you. Love." Then the outpourings of his passion came from his phallus, while his mouth was reduced to grunts. He heard none of them, he felt nothing outside. In his mind there was a roaring flame in the foreground and, far distant, something spurting out of him. Finally, the last was accompanied by "Jeanette!"
She was, miraculously, still pulsing around him. God! This was the sexiest in history, but he could no longer do her justice. Whatever was leaving him now was by her action, not his. He was starting to shrink. Then she stopped. She focused on him in moments. He felt weak everywhere, and they both were covered with sweat.
"Oh God, love," he said.
He'd crush her if he dropped from here, and he needed to drop. He started to back off. She held him. For the sexiest girl in history, he could let his bones hold him up.
"Say when."
After a second, or maybe a year, "When."
She handed him a tissue, and he wrapped it around Junior as it came out, a much-chastened boy. He sat back on his heels as Jeanette dabbed herself and rearranged herself and the covers. Then he blew out the candle before getting under the covers close to her. She scooted back the last inch. A little leg adjustment got them as tight as sleep would allow.
"Christ, woman," he said. "You don't know." What she didn't know suddenly eluded him. How sexy she was, what her passion made him feel, how much he loved her? Maybe all of those things. Luckily she had her own topic for discussion.
"Do you remember, long ago, warning me against Junior?"
"Couple of times."
"I said that it didn't sound all that bad, and you said, 'I want our first time to be in a bed with you chanting "yes," not in a field with you screaming "no."'"
"Really. How were you?"
"Just 15."
"Insufferable kid. I don't know whether he should have been charged with statutory rape or verbal excess."
"He was a nice boy, and he cared for me. It was quite reasonable in context."
"He loved you dearly. That doesn't redeem the fact that he loved the sound of his own voice much too much. Um..."
"Oh, go on."
"You were chanting 'yes,' a few minutes ago. Had you been thinking of that?"
"Yes. Conscious reference, really."
"I thought ... On our wedding night you said quite clearly, 'yes.' I'll treasure that always. I thought that you were referring to that. Turned me on, quite."
"I don't mind you remembering these. I just don't want some incoherence thrown into my face as an argument. Know what?"
"What, most beauteous of women?"
"I was responding to that line on our wedding night, too. I'm just not too hot on chants."
He carefully moved his hand from her to her breastbone before hugging her very tight.
He loved her courage. He loved her passion. He loved her.
JEANETTE had only Bob's arm to hug, so she hugged that. After a while, he moved his hand back to her breast. She patted the nice hand once and then reached down to pat his leg.
"Have I mentioned that I love you?" he asked.
"Not often enough."
"Bob loves Jeanette," he sang. "Bob loves Jeanette. Bob loves Jeanette. I love you."
He couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. The last note was almost a snore. It was the most beautiful song in the world. He cradled her. He cherished her.
His leg jerked; his breath roughened; his hand relaxed. THE END Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net 1996/07/30 1996/10/22 1997/04/21 This is one of a series of about the Brennans.
The next in the series is: "For Him"or_him.txt
The first in the series is: "Forever"orever.txt The directory to the entire series is: Brennan Stories.Directory
A non-Brennan involving a good deal of teasing is: "Moving Experience"
The directory to all my can be found at: Index toiUthertPendragon's Website
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