Chapter 1

After he got into bed, he gave her a warm kiss. She would have enjoyed it, if she did not fear what came next. His hand clasped her breast through the cloth of the nightgown. When he had finished the kiss, he drew his hand down until he was holding the gown away from her waist.

“If I blow out the lantern,” he asked, “will you take this off?” She said nothing, but he must have understood that she was reluctant. “Very well.”

He kissed her forehead, nose tip, the cheek which she left upward when she turned from that. When he returned to her mouth, his hand went down her gown. He pulled it upward and pushed his hand and arm under the fabric.

Now, when he held her breast, there was no cloth between it and his hand. Now, when his mouth left hers, it trailed kisses down to her neck. The beard tickled, and the lips and tongue aroused. Her nightgown was bunched under her thighs.

He drew his hand down to her waist. “Raise your hips,” he said. When she did, he pushed the hem of her nightgown up her body to above her waist. He kissed her again while he stroked one breast and then the other.

When his mouth left hers this time, he pushed up her nightgown while brushing sheet and blanket down with his face. Her breasts were exposed to the cooler air for a moment; then, he kissed one breast. The beard tickled while his lips sucked. Fire shot through her. She could barely move her arm to pull up the covers over the exposed breast.

“But they are so beautiful,” he said. “You are so beautiful.” Then his mouth was on her again.

Sam had been instructed during his first sexual encounter what a man must do to make his woman ready. That instruction had assumed the woman’s cooperation or – at least – acquiescence, Still, he knew of only one way to proceed, and this time he was not going to hurt Deborah.

Her legs were tight together, so he stroked as deep as a finger would fit into the crease between them.

Deborah had reconciled herself to a resumption of pain, but this wasn’t pain. It wasn’t pleasure either. It was a feeling of tension. His finger was between her lips as it had been that night. It wasn’t greasy, although it felt more and more slippery as it stroked there.

As his mouth moved to her other breast, his beard dragged across the wet, exquisitely-sensitive nipple his lips were leaving. All the sensations came together. She tensed, and now it did feel painful.

His finger was stroking continually on an extra-sensitive spot at the top of her lips. Her every muscle was pulling against the others. She couldn’t bear the tension for another moment.

And, then, lighting struck. “Oh,” she moaned. Her body convulsed, sending Sam’s hand and lips away finally. She shook again.

Then she sank down into the feathers, at utter peace.

“Darling,” Sam said, “oh, darling Deb, darling Deborah.” He came over her, shoving sheet and blanket away. Her legs were spread, and his knees spread them further. He was where he had hurt her before.

Before she could push him away or even brace herself, he was entering her. Instead of the previous night’s stab, this was a slow, steady entrance. Even though it stretched her a little, it did not hurt in the least. Instead, that stretching echoed some of the previous excitement.

“Darling?” he said again.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Does this?” He drew slowly out.

“No.”

He moved in and out of her, going slightly faster on each stroke. Her tension mounted. Then, he did stab her. He grunted, and she could feel the pulsations deep inside her. He slumped onto her, and she wrapped her arms around him. Sam was a dear man, and he hadn’t hurt her at all.

When he pulled back, though, she was happy to let him. He moved to her side and put one arm around her.

“Blow out the lantern,” she said. When he moved to do so, the covers moved baring her nearly to the waist. As she moved her nightgown to cover her more decently, she felt something dripping out of her. Could it be more blood? She had not felt anything tear inside. In the dark, he drew the covers up to tuck her in.

Nobody, she thought as she drifted off to sleep, had tucked her in for a decade.

As her pressing back at him became enthusiastic, he thrust harder. When she asked him to, he increased his pace. After this conscious decision, his pace increased even more because he was becoming unbearably aroused. He could tell, though, that Gayle was matching his arousal. He had to resist, finally, going off before she did.

She slams into him suddenly. Her cunt tightens around him. He draws out, and then he pounds in. As he’s entering her most deeply, he begins to shoot into her clutching cunt. Finally, buried deeply, he pumps everything into her.

After slumping for a moment on Gayle’s abundant softness, he rolled to his left.

David, who would go straight into sex from any other activity if he had his druthers, never headed straight into intercourse. Indeed, he sometimes seemed to think enough appetizers made a feast. Tonight, he started on removing her clothes as if that experience deserved the whole night. The night was too chilly for that. Topless and shivering, she broke away to strip herself. Since she’d removed her pantyhose when she’d inserted the diaphragm, it didn’t take long. They had a lovely kiss when he joined her in bed. Then, he started kissing down her body.

Her patience ran out when he was kissing her thighs. She pulled his head where she needed it. Even there, he concentrated on her lips and avoided her clitoris. Her arousal grew slowly, but it grew. Finally, her tension demanded relief right then. She pulled his head against her mound.

“David,” she gasped as he took her over. The feeling was glorious. The height of her passion reflected the length of the buildup.

And, when it was over, he cuddled her. Although she hadn’t any attention to spare for it, the cuddling was a comfort. When she was nearly recovered, she wanted a kiss. She turned her head towards him to invite it. From her mouth, his kisses went lower and lower. He kissed her thighs until desire was wriggling her whole body. Her need spiraled higher and higher while he ministered to her lower lips.

She needed him inside. “David,” she begged. Even then he teased, kissing her everywhere as he slowly moved up her body. When she put him where she needed him, though, he pressed inside. “Life,” she said. He was alive, and not lying half-alive in a hospital bed. She was alive, more alive like this than in any other situation.

She held him by his rump, pulling him into her and feeling the muscles bunch and relax; she held him more intimately by wrapping her legs around his; she held him most intimately in surrounding his erection as it drove in and out. “Love you,” he said.

She felt his love as well as heard it. And she felt her own love, felt it turn into desire and the desire turn into fire. Then the fire raged within her and raised her against him. His fire joined hers; she could feel his throbbing within her throbbing. It was a glorious union.

And, when that was gone, he was still warm, gasping, living, above her. “Stay,” she said when he began to move off. His weight was a delight, affirming their love, their commitment, their connection. And, when the burden grew greater than the affirmation, he lay on his side where she could snuggle against him.

“You know, you are full of beauty,” he told her. “I only mention some of your beauty, but I appreciate much more than I mention.” He kissed each of her buns. Then he raised his head to complete the thought. “Your buns, for example. I certainly appreciate the view from in front, but you’re lovely from in back, too.”

Well, enough of the verbal appreciation. He stroked the lips of her snatch again, this time reaching down to her nub. He didn’t want to be fumbling around with that, and fumbling was a real danger when his head was engaged in kissing so far from his hand. When he was certain he knew where he was, he went back to kissing her vertebrae, this time bottom-to-top.

Carolyn tensed. He wouldn’t be able to see her go over from this position, but he could damn-well feel her go over. Her buns firmed under his hand and the muscles of her back were tight under his face. He was nearly holding his breath by the time he got to the top of her spine. Maybe some kisses on where the neck joined the shoulders would take her over. He needn’t have worried. She shuddered; her legs closed around his hand; she raised and lowered her buns three times. Her exhalation was something between a gasp and a sigh.

“That was one,” he told her. She’d gone over seven or eight times from his hand the previous time. Maybe they could match that this time. Maybe more -- she was, after all, cooperating this time.

He took her lips between his fingers and rubbed them against each other as gently as he could. He finished the vertebrae of her back and continued up her neck, brushing her hair away with his cheek first. He stopped kissing to concentrate on getting his finger back to her nub without hurting her. Then he kissed a line from below her ear to her shoulder down the side of her neck. She was holding her head up off the pillow, and he could feel the tension of her neck on his tongue when he licked her.

She shuddered again. This time the sound was clearly a moan.

“That was two.”

“Stop counting and get in me.” She could do lots more.

“You can go for more,” he said.

“Yeah. But I need you in me.”

Obediently, he started to get between her legs. It was a difficult job, since his right hand was still stroking her snatch. Her legs, also, weren’t all that far apart.

“Shall I spread them?” she asked. Just then would have hit his knees.

“Wait a second.” He got where he was kneeling between her legs, but with his knees close together. “Please.” She spread her legs then, and he had lots of room. She raised her hips, too. The sight was as arousing as it was practical. He pulled his hand up to put his dick just into the position.

“Oh, Carolyn,” he said as he sank into her warmth, her smoothness, her welcome. When he was deep into her and his weight was resting on her buns, she sank slowly down onto the mattress. The move was slow, and he was with her -- and in her -- all the way. He was resting on his elbows, but those hands could be more usefully, and more pleasantly, employed than just lying there.

“Can you raise your front up?” He asked her.

“Not for long.” But she did raise herself enough that he could slip a hands under each melon. “Good.” When she sank down again, he was holding glory in his raised palms. “Lovely,” he told her. He moved his fingers to see if that could arouse her from this position. Then he started serious motion through the warmth of her snatch. She was smooth around his dick as he moved out, and she pushed up against him as he moved in. The arousal was exquisite. He tried to hold back, but he didn’t think he could.

“Can’t,” he told her, when he’d reached his limit. He buried his dick in her, rested on her beautiful, soft, smooth buns, and shot into her depths. Carolyn, dear girl, was with him. She crossed over before his pulses were finished. He lay panting there for minutes.

“My pleasure.”

“I can tell.” She pointed at his prick, now almost fully erect.

“Yup. I’m always available to scrub your back. Or to towel you off.” She turned off the shower which was now getting really cold. When she stepped out of the tub, he was waiting with a towel. The drying of her back was as vigorous as the washing had been; when he got to her breasts, he patted very gently. He was much gentler than she would have been, gentler than he was when he was caressing them. He knelt to dry her legs and feet. When he’d finished those, he kissed her mound.

He dried himself hurriedly when she left the room. She thought of moving into the kitchen to start breakfast to tease him. But it would tease herself, too. And the kitchen meant getting dressed. An obvious former closet, the kitchen required that you be right next to the stove to use it, neither comfortable nor safe in bare skin. The refrigerator was out in their main room, being too large for the kitchen.

It still being chilly, she went back to bed. He joined her when he got out of the bathroom. He’d shaved, and she enjoyed the touch of his smooth cheek on hers as his tongue explored her mouth. She could feel his erect prick lying over her thigh, but so long as he was content to keep to foreplay, so was she. And such delicious foreplay, too. He moved his body further away to kiss her left breast as he cuddled her right one. When he moved his face to her right breast, he moved his hand to her thighs. Soon he was stroking her pussy.

“Yes, darling,” she murmured. She spread her legs to give him more access. She was glad he’d suggested this, morning love was much better than anything she could have managed after a wearing day in classrooms. The feelings his hands evoked were delightful. And then they weren’t enough. “Now, darling,” she said.

“Moment,” he said. He rolled away to get the rubber. With it on, he knelt between her legs. “Oh, Sylvia,” he said. His prick moved inward. Spreading her, rubbing her where she needed it most, filling her. He kissed her briefly in this position. Then he began his motions. Above her and -- most especially -- within her, he moved. Her arousal soared, rising higher and higher until it couldn’t get any greater.

And then it did.

She convulsed around his still-moving prick. When she did, he moved more urgently. Just when the tension left her, he stiffened. She could feel his prick quivering within her. He grasped his prick as he moved to her right. All that fullness left her, and he gasped in her ear. His arm went around her.

“Sylvia,” he finally managed to say.

“And I love you, too.” She loved him. Should she marry him? Well, she had more questions. They didn’t really know each other. His finger started moving again. “This time, are you going to come in?”

“You taste better before I do.” Well, she couldn’t argue with that. She didn’t particularly like his taste, either.

“I get the impression that you are just going to use your hand for the next twelve hours.”

“Not twelve. Maybe three.”

“Andy!” Yeah. He was insatiable.

“Well, you look so sexy when I do.” He kissed her then. It was unfair of him to make his arguments and then not let her make hers. Unfair, but sexy. His tongue explored her mouth. When he left her lips, he kissed down her neck. Even before he ducked under the covers to approach her tits, she knew his ultimate destination. Much as she wanted him to reach it, she enjoyed the journey, too. He sucked her left nipple into hot, aching hardness, and then he started on her right nipple. The trail of kisses down her abdomen had her wriggling under his mouth. When she drew up her knees around him, he kissed and licked both thighs.

But when he arrived, the feeling was even hotter. He licked up her cleft, and she pulled his head against her to keep him right there. And when his tongue just touched her clit, fire shot through her. He was sucking it gently when the lightning struck. She couldn’t help wriggling, but his mouth stayed on her. His lips and tongue brought the lightning again and again.

When she couldn’t take any more, she pushed his head away. He turned to kiss her wrist. As she relaxed, he kissed her thigh.

When she’d recovered, kisses started up towards the juncture of her thighs.

“No!” she said. “This time inside.”

“But we have hours.” And he wanted to spend those hours bringing her off. Lunch plans aside, he’d have to carry her to the train. She wasn’t going to say that, though. He’d probably agree to do it.

“I’m going to fix you toasted cheese sandwiches. Now, get up here, or I’ll go do it now.” That was a phony threat, but it brought him up over her. He stopped to kiss her nipples again, but then she was guiding him into her. He parted her lips; he spread her; he filled her. And, when he’d filled her, he kissed her forehead.

“I love you.” Then he was showing that love with slow, firm strokes. When she met them, he sped up. She was pulling him deeper into her by his ass when lightning struck yet again. This was the best yet, and she soared. He drove in and throbbed deep within her.

As she lay there gasping, he was gasping into her ear himself. He was heavy, but it was a weight she loved. She pulled on his ass to keep him in.

When he finally moved off, though, it was a relief. He lay on his side and gathered her into the spoon. The air of the room was still chilly, but it was nice and warm under the covers. Her back was tight against his warmth; his arm was covering half her abdomen; his hand was cupping her left tit, and both her hands were holding it there.

“Chair?”

“Chair!” he said on his way to get one. While he was gone, I inserted the contraceptive. Once we were both naked, I sat on Bob’s lap while we kissed and petted. After those memories, the foreplay was redundant. Soon it was sweet torture.

Just when I was deciding to insist, Bob said the most erotic phrase imaginable, “I, Robert, take thee, Jeanette.” But that time, in that position, I was going to take him. I kissed him for his thoughtfulness and his love. Mostly, though, I kissed him from my own desire. While we kissed, I moved over his erection and took it in my hand.

“I, Jeanette,” I corrected him, fitting my actions to my words, “take thee, Robert.” I took all of him while I said it and ended sitting on his lap.

“Home,” he said, and so we were. We weren’t really leaving our home; we were taking it with us. He was in me, where he belonged; I was in his lap, where I belonged. “One flesh,” he added. I had to kiss my sexy husband again. He pulled me against him, so he was the tiniest bit deeper.

There we merged and mingled, my tongue tasting his, my nipples aroused by his skin, my center clasping his. The joy of warm flesh satisfied us briefly while only our tongues moved.

Then Bob moved us. The joy of the kiss remained; his skin rubbed my nipples as well as pressing them; but the sensations from below predominated. Bob was moving beneath me as well as within me. I was on fire, and that fire straightened me, ripping my mouth from his but pressing my breasts harder against him. Helpless I writhed in that fire, rubbing my nipples against Bob until they almost hurt. I reached the point where the promise of pleasure balanced the threat of loss of control; remembering that I was safe in Bob’s arms, I let go.

I can never really remember the ecstasy of those moments, although I fully remember that there was ecstasy. The pleasure of the aftermath fits better in the memory. I was still in Bob’s lap, hugging and being hugged, loving and being loved. Finally, we cleaned up and called the landlord.

“I love you Mrs. Trainor.”

“And I love you Mr. Trainor.” When he set her down, he started trying to get her out of that dress. She pushed him away but started undressing immediately. Well, his own clothes were complicated enough. Marilyn was very careful hanging her dress up. When she was done with the closet, he hung the rented stuff there. He put his underwear on the dresser, and he watched while she finished undressing. Then he lifted her for a kiss.

So much of her was available for kissing then and he’d been deprived of all but her mouth for so long, that he kept lifting her higher and kissing her lower. When his arms couldn’t reach any higher, he set her on the bed. Then he kissed her ankle -- she’d forbidden him her feet -- and upwards from there in small steps.

As his face approached her vulva, he could smell her sexiness. Soon after he could taste it, she writhed on the bed. He kept licking her, and she writhed again. When he tried for another, she shoved his head away from her delicious labia.

“No,” she said. “This night of all nights. In the bed, under the covers.” She had a point; he had the next 50 years to see her writhe. That was more than 18,000 nights. This was the night for them to be locked together in the way that married couples were locked together. She was lying on the covers that she wanted to be under. He helped her get under them, and then he joined her there.

“Now, Andy. In me,” she said. She was right; this was the time. When his knees were between hers, she reached up and gently pulled him until his tip was bathed in her wetness. “Oh, yes,” she said as he sank into her warmth.

“I love you, Mrs. Trainor,” he said before he kissed her hairline. She was very smooth as he moved inside her, and incredibly arousing. He tried to keep a slow, steady pace. When she contracted around him, he lost all control. He took two more strokes racing to beat the eruption that he could feel boiling up his cock. On the second of these, he buried himself within her and erupted.

He broke his kiss to answer. “Don’t think I’d fit. Here!” He rose from his kiss. “Hold the back of my neck.”

When she hugged him, he slipped his arms under the sofa cushion and pulled it off with her still lying on it. It wasn’t the smoothest ride in the world, but the only parts that really bumped when the cushion fell to the floor were her heels.

Jon straightened her on the cushion, partly lifting and partly sliding. When he was done, her hips were just at one edge. “Your feet okay?” he asked. She nodded that they were, but he went to them anyway. “Poor feet,” he said, though he kissed the ankles, not the heels.

He kept kissing the insides of her legs, moving upwards between them. By the time he had reached the tops of her thighs, she was writhing again. She was about to start the climb to her explosion, but she wanted him in her this time. She needed him in her this time.

“Please come inside,” she said. He kept licking her labia. They were exquisitely sensitive after the last series of orgasms, even the outer ones, more sensitive than they had ever been before. The licking drove her wild, but it wasn’t quite enough to take her over. After an agonizing length of time, his tongue touched -- just touched -- her clit. She tensed. “Oh yes!” she said.