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Foreplay

2/13/2005

Lovely dinner Mrs. Brennan."
<br>

"Oh Bob, " Jeanette answered. "If I made
more...."
<br>

"You make more than I do. That's for sure. You
cook better,
too. I don't moan and groan about being a drone."
<br>

"You planned that!" Actually, he hadn't.
It had come after
"moan and groan."
<br>

"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.
<br>

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.
<br>

"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.
<br>

"I'm going to let the dishes soak. Get prepared,
but not the
shower."
<br>

"Dirty dishes and a dirty wife?"
<br>

"I washed the dishes yesterday, and the game begins
with a
shower."
JEANETTE went into the bathroom, stripped, reached out
and put
her panties in the hamper. She prepared and inserted the

diaphragm. Then she used the toilet.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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
hurt
her.
<br>

In between, of course, he had hurt her. But, if you are
spontaneous, the first time hurts. She had been offered
options
and refused them. Her pain hurt Bob more than it hurt 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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

He loved this girl, a girl 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 .
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

Her beauty kept taking him by surprise. He felt that the

lush curves on hip and breast of the 19-year-old were an

undeserved bonus. The girl he had fallen in love with had
been
14 and straight as a stick.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

"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."
<br>

"You're no fun. That's not fair! Why second?"
<br>

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.
<br>

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 sucked 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.
<br>

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 breasts needed so much attention,
but the
attention was very gentle.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

He was waiting with a luxurious terry-cloth sheet when
she
stepped out. They had loads of gorgeous new towels. The
wedding
presents had been heavy on bath towels, much better than
punch
bowls.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

She hung up his shirt 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.
<br>

"The third stage is a brief period in which Jeanette
stands
here and Bob kisses her in lots and lots of places."
<br>

"And when does Jeanette get to kiss?"
<br>

"When Bob kisses her on the mouth. And, of course,
next week
when it is her game." She was beginning to regret her

gamesmanship.
<br>

"And why are we standing here when there is a perfectly

comfortable bed over there?"
<br>

"Because kissing you on the bed is the *fourth* stage."
<br>

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.
<br>

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 sucked on her other nipple. Feeling the
awkwardness of the position, she straightened suddenly.
<br>

He kissed the bottom of that breast 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 sucked
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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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 vagina and
stroke there
until he exploded.
<br>

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 sucked gently, then hard. He licked
the
underside of her tongue once, and tasted sweetness.
<br>

<br>

JEANETTE was beginning to get into this.
<br>

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.
<br>

She met his mouth greedily, chased his tongue willingly
into
the trap, enjoyed it all.
<br>

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 sucked
him.
They relaxed into a quiet kiss, lip to lip.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

"Now, I'll have to wash it again, " she
teased. "And I sold
my body to get it washed in the first place."`
<br>

"This is washing. Haven't you ever seen a mother
cat."
<br>

"You don't qualify." She was tempted to
grab Junior to prove
it, but that would really be cheating.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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 sucked 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.
<br>

"I love you, " he said on the way to the other
breast.
<br>

As he sucked 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.
<br>

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.
<br>

Nevertheless, when he kissed her right breast goodbye
to move
between her legs, she was glad enough that the time had come.

She was ready, if not aching, for his entrance.
<br>

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.
<br>

Then he bent over, lifted her leg, and kissed her ankle.
The
foreplay wasn't over.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

"Bob, is something wrong?" Jeanette reminded
him that he had
stopped all activity. He was supposed to be arousing *her*.
<br>

"Nothing could be wrong. You are absolutely beautiful."
<br>

"Pfft. You think ..."
<br>

"Love, don't fight me on this. You can't
see."
<br>

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 hurt even that.
<br>

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 peeping
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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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 sucked 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.
<br>

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.
<br>

He caught one of her inner labia between his lips and sucked

gently, then licked the edge. He licked across the top of
the
cleft, catching her clitoris as he went. She stiffened
more.
<br>

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.
<br>

"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.
<br>

He stopped. She was sure that her smell had turned him off.

Then he mumbled something about "Beautiful."
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

There was only the string and Bob's lips and tongue.
The
string tightened and tightened. Bob was sucking 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.
<br>

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.
<br>

"Are you all right? Are you okay? Is anything wrong?
Can I
do anything?"
<br>

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.
<br>

Finally she pulled herself together, even if her breath
still
came in gasps. He really looked worried.
<br>

"I'm all right." And she *was*. That much
she could
remember. "What's wrong?"
<br>

"You looked real out of it."
<br>

"Was.... You've passed out ... and snored....
Just roll you
over."
<br>

"Oh God!" He looked overjoyed. That sweet boy
had worried
about her.
<br>

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.
<br>

<br>

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 breasts found her lying flat looking
at the
ceiling. Even from his vantage, she looked grim.
<br>

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.
<br>

He settled down to a rhythm of a sucking 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.
<br>

Then she shuddered. Her hips were moving in a slow roll.
He
stopped worrying, she was there. He kept sucking 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 sucking when her nails bit
into
his scalp and she clutched him to the place. He tried sucking
in
rhythm, but -- under those circumstances -- wasn't
going to pull
back the half inch that licking required.
<br>

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.
<br>

When he saw her face, it was utterly vacant and streaming

tears. His panic was strong enough to damp his passion.
<br>

"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?"
<br>

She visibly gathered herself together.
<br>

"I'm all right."
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

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:
<br>

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!" That was when he was actually
in
her entrance. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Yessssss."
<br>

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.
<br>

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.
<br>

"Oh God, love, " he said. She agreed completely.
<br>

He started to move away, and she tightened her hug.
<br>

"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.
<br>

God! she was sexy. He loved her passion and told her so.
<br>

"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 spurt was accompanied by "Jeanette!"
<br>

She was, miraculously, still pulsing around him. God!
This
was the sexiest girl 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.
<br>

"Oh God, love, " he said.
<br>

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.
<br>

"Say when."
<br>

After a second, or maybe a year, "When."
<br>

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.
<br>

"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.
<br>

"Do you remember, long ago, warning me against Junior?"
<br>

"Couple of times."
<br>

"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."'"
<br>

"Really. How old were you?"
<br>

"Just 15."
<br>

"Insufferable kid. I don't know whether he should
have been
charged with statutory or verbal excess."
<br>

"He was a nice boy, and he cared for me. It was quite

reasonable in context."
<br>

"He loved you dearly. That doesn't redeem the
fact that he
loved the sound of his own voice much too much. Um..."
<br>

"Oh, go on."
<br>

"You were chanting 'yes, ' a few minutes
ago. Had you been
thinking of that?"
<br>

"Yes. Conscious reference, really."
<br>

"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."
<br>

"I don't mind you remembering these. I just don't
want some
incoherence thrown into my face as an argument. Know what?"
<br>

"What, most beauteous of women?"
<br>

"I was responding to that line on our wedding night,
too.
I'm just not too hot on chants."
<br>

He carefully moved his hand from her breast to her breastbone

before hugging her very tight.
<br>

He loved her courage. He loved her passion. He loved her.
<br>

<br>

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.
<br>

"Have I mentioned that I love you?" he asked.
<br>

"Not often enough."
<br>

"Bob loves Jeanette, " he sang. "Bob
loves Jeanette. Bob
loves Jeanette. I love you."
<br>

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.
<br>

His leg jerked; his breath roughened; his hand relaxed.
THE END

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