Chapter 3

‘ She positioned the jar of fudge sauce and carefully poured some on the lower part of her mound. It felt cold! Still, that was better than scalding the next target. She moved the stream to hit her lips. She shivered but continued to pour until she could feel some dripping down. She righted the jar and then poured some on each of her breasts.

She put the jar back carefully. “I seem to have spilled some syrup. Could you help me clean it up?”

“I suppose I should start on the latest spill.” He did, licking her breast, licking her nipple, then sucking her nipple. He stayed there much longer than it could have taken to get all the chocolate. He moved over to her other breast and took even longer there. His mouth was warm where the syrup had been cold, but she shivered more.

When he finally crawled between her legs, she raised her knees. He spent the longest time on her thighs although she didn’t think any syrup had reached them. She’d have felt it.

Then his tongue went just where she needed it. He licked up her lips from her hole to the top, and then did it again. She felt suddenly hot and hoped he would continue.

Instead, he moved on to her mound. With his lips instead of his tongue, he visited every part. He kissed and sucked, and she grew hotter and hotter. Maybe she should have left the air-conditioning vent open a little.

“You clipped it,” he said. She nodded, not sure he could see her. “Trim, always such a neat woman.” His tone was warm; his words were complimentary. Still, she could think of a better use for his mouth right then. He gave the mound a long kiss, which was better, but not what she really needed.

When she was almost at her wit’s end, he returned to her slot. He parted the outer lips with his thumbs and licked the inner ones. That was better! She spread her legs wider to give him more room. He kissed each thigh before returning to the main arena. He kissed her labia, spread his mouth wide to suck from all of her mound.

Finally, she couldn’t stand his teasing. She reached down to pull his head against her. Taking the hint, he licked again. His tongue spread her inner lips, but he stopped before he got to her clit. Three more kisses got closer, but still stopped short. Then he went back to kissing her lower lips. This was delightful but delightful agony. She dropped her hands to the sheet and clutched it while she writhed.

Suddenly, he removed all his touch from there. He was leaning up and reaching for the jar. He poured more on her lips. With her present openness, it was cold. Then he poured more on each nipple. He missed her left and had to pour it again. “Another spill,” he said. “I’ll have to clean that up. Hold still; you’ll get it on the sheets.” As if his attentions had nothing to do with her wiggles.

And, of course, the tray liners were slipping over each other as she wiggled. Only her feet and her shoulders had any purchase at all. Now, Jer was licking and kissing her left breast, not the nipple but the spill. And he covered a lot of ground that the syrup hadn’t. When he reached that nipple, he spent the longest time licking; she almost pulled his head against her before he sucked the nipple into his mouth. Even then, he alternated sucks with licks inside his mouth. Meanwhile, as he concentrated on an area which must have been clean by then, she could feel the syrup oozing down lower on her right breast.

What was running down her lips, she could only guess. But his thigh was pressed right there. She rubbed herself against it, but that didn’t give her the stimulation she wanted.

The right breast got the same treatment, slow licks, followed by sucks, followed by more licks. Finally, he started kissing down her stomach. He was heading towards the right place, but definitely not at the right pace. The kids would be gone for two hours, sure; but it didn’t look like he would be done tonight.

When he reached her mound, he kissed there again and then in the hollows on either side of it. When she writhed -- those kisses were ticklish -- he chuckled. He licked over her lips again. With all his delays, she could feel the syrup trickling down her ass cheeks, but he didn’t try to follow it.

His tongue parted her inner labia. He licked one side and then the other. Each time, she could feel the closeness of his tongue to her clitoris. Almost there, but just to the side. Finally, he touched directly on it with the tongue tip. By this time, it felt like an electric current was running through her. He went back to kissing her labia.

She wanted more. She needed more. “Jer,” she said. “Jer, please, please!” His tongue resumed its tasting. He licked up her slot. He began with firm pressure, but it decreased as he got higher. Before he reached her clit, the pressure dropped to nothing. She grabbed his head again and pulled him against her.

He clasped her breasts. His fingers were on her nipples, grasping them, turning them.

His tongue made the journey again, and a third and fourth time. Each time, he got closer to her clit before he stopped. Each time, though, he didn’t quite touch it. And then he did. She pulled him in tighter and raised her center into his mouth. “Yes!” she said.

His licking was continuous now. It sent hot sparks through her. She screamed when he squeezed her nipples. She came and came.

When she could sense the outside world again, he was kissing her thighs. He scattered kisses on one heading inward, and then he switched to doing the same thing on the other. Her lips were so sensitive when he touched them with a brushing kiss, that she felt it all through her body. Her nipples were sensitive under his gently-cupping palms as well. When he licked her this time, she needed him to stop, but she needed him to do more.

“Oh, Jer,” she said and tugged at his shoulders.

“Oh, Mary,” he answered. She quivered at the sensation of his breath over her ultra-sensitive lips.

But he moved his arms from under her legs to over them and started to kiss his way up her body. Her nipples were so sore that his suction there brought twinges, but it brought flashes of fire as well.

Then he was there. She helped him in and felt every millimeter of his entrance. It stretched her after all their experience together, stretched her very pleasantly. And her extra-sensitive lips could feel him rubbing against them -- between them.

He kissed her once on the mouth, once on the forehead. Then he was moving over her, within her. She slipped her hands up his arms to his shoulders, then down to his hips. Every motion he made thrilled her. He shifted so that his hands were back on her breasts, and that was even better. The feelings were great, but she needed more.

She spread her knees and pulled him tighter against her. Then, she couldn’t help it. She clutched him with her hands, clasped him with her thighs. Her hips left the bed -- despite his weight holding them down -- with no thought on her part.

“Mary!” he said.

She couldn’t come; she just had. But she did. Fire burned through her.

He was heavy on her and gasping into her ear. She held him tight. She couldn’t breathe, and her chest had to lift his weight every time she tried to fill her lungs. He was pressed against her sore breasts and very sore nipples. Her legs ached. Something was dripping down her super-sensitive labia. She felt wonderful.

Sometime later, he rolled over to her side. He held her weakly. “Mary,” he said softly. “That was something else.”

Back in their room, David used the bathroom first. He came back shaved and wearing a robe. Wedding night jitters were ridiculous. She’d been to bed with David before. Still, she took her time. Inserting the diaphragm still made her feel clumsy. When she came out in her sexy nightgown, David whistled. It was the first time he’d seen her in a nightgown.

He was lying in bed covered by the sheet. When she joined him, she saw that he was naked. “Naked?” She wondered whether she should take her nightgown off, too. It was new and felt a bit scratchy. Still, she liked how she looked in it -- he had whistled.

In response, he raised his left hand. Okay, he was wearing his ring, the ring she’d put on his finger that afternoon. She didn’t count that as dressed.

When he kissed her, he started gently with his mouth closed. Soon, though, his tongue was exploring her mouth while his hands were exploring her body. For the longest time, he stayed outside the nightgown. Finally, she sat up to remove it. Even with David’s help, that took more time than she’d have thought.

He kissed her breasts, moving from one to the other and all over them. Finally, he kissed and sucked on her right nipple. His hand stroked up the inside of her thighs towards her cleft. Suddenly he drew back. “I forgot,” he said. “We have all night. Well, not all night but loads of time. We can sleep in in the morning.” He took her right hand and kissed that. He continued up her arm to her shoulder.

It must have been minutes later that he got back to her breast. He kissed all over it before he reached the nipple. He stroked between her thighs, not touching her cleft. When he finally did, he kissed a line over to her left breast. She gloried in the sensations, starting to spiral higher. But she shouldn’t now.

This was a special night. Her first climax as a married woman shouldn’t be from his hand. She pushed it away and reached for him. “You,” she said.

“Yes.” He moved over her and stopped just at her entrance. “Jennifer.” Then her lips were spread, she felt the smooth slide of his entry until she was filled. He shifted so that his hands were on her breasts. She ran her hands up and down his back. “Oh, Jen,” he said. “Oh, love.” He stroked in and out of her as he held her breasts. She clutched his moving legs with her thighs and rested her feet on his calves.

She spiraled upwards in time to his strokes. When she spasmed around him, he said “Oh, Jen,” again. Then, just as she was finishing, David thrust into her harder than before. “Oh, Jen Ni Fer,” he said as he throbbed deep inside her.

For a moment, he was a single rigid shape, his muscles feeling as hard as his bones under her hand. Then, he collapsed over her and gasped. He felt like his muscles had disappeared. When he collected himself enough to move off, he pulled out as well. He left one arm lying across her torso and all his juices dripping down her rump. When she cuddled back against him, he hugged her.

He hadn’t mentioned the idea of celebration again, but he started off much more elaborately than his usual. Mr. Foreplay kissed all over her face before kissing downward. He’d shaved, too. instead of zooming in on her breasts, he gave them only a few kisses -- none on the nipples. He spent more time on her belly. He didn’t get between her legs for the ultimate kiss, though. During his progress, she’d been half expecting it.

Instead, he returned to the top of the bed to kiss her mouth. He continued that kiss while his hand went where his mouth had preceded it. As their tongues met, he held her outer lips lightly between his fingers. He rubbed them against one another. Since the days when boys had regarded reaching her clit as the ultimate triumph of making out, her dates had always gone there as soon as they could. Bill, alone, regarded the journey as important as the destination. And this journey was delightful.

She was close before he reached her clit. Once there, though, he stayed there, stroking it gently as she got closer and closer. She flew. Even then, he continued the stimulation and continued the kiss.

“For the B.” If that was in celebration of the B, what could he do to top it?

Well, he was obviously going to try. Already he was kissing her right breast. His hand, which had been resting on her delta went to work again on the lip-stimulating business. Her arousal grew again. It spiraled upward when he stroked her clit at the same time that he first sucked her nipple. She was close again, and he make no interruption in his caresses. She flew again, and again he continued the stimulation.

“For the A,” he said when she’d finally relaxed.

But he wasn’t allowing her any respite. It took him only a moment to switch to her left breast. There was no journey, this time, no kissing a path towards the nipple. He sucked on it while she got close again. Then, he did pause, but only to move his body over hers.

“Yeah,” she said when his penis was ready to enter her.

“For the A+!” And he entered her, stretched her, filled her. His eyes were boring into hers as his penis bored into her. She couldn’t help but rise to meet it. And her body undulated against his as he drove into her again and again. She got closer and closer. It was just beyond her reach ... Then she flew.

“Yes!” And Bill throbbed deep within her. He lay heavy on her, despite his elbows on the bed, but it was a welcome weight. She hugged him.

As Bruce raised his body up, Trent could see Gayle’s hand spread herself while the other hand grasped Bruce’s dick to guide him in.

Then, Bruce immediately started moving back and forth. He stopped to get his elbows on the air mattress and his hands on Gayle’s breasts. Then he started screwing her again.

Minutes seemed to go by, with Bruce’s ass moving toward Trent and away from him. Gayle’s hands held Bruce’s shoulders, and then drifted down his body. Her legs bent more, and her knees went up.

Then, her hands reached Bruce’s ass and tightened on it. Trent could see Bruce really thrust hard on the in-strokes.

Gayle’s knees came back down, and her legs spread wider. Her feet went to the ground on either side of the mattress. After another minute, she was pushing back when Bruce thrust in. Bruce reacted to that by thrusting faster and harder.

Her hands clutched at Bruce’s ass cheeks, but he drew back. Then he really rammed it home. Trent could she Gayle’s legs rise around him and her feet pointed as if she were standing on tip-toe. They shook; Bruce shook.

Bruce collapsed over Gayle. Gayle’s legs dropped to the ground limp. Bruce seemed to be shuddering for a while, and then he rolled off.

“Why did you do that?” she asked. He made a shushing motion with his fingers to his lips. Stripped, he took his pajamas into the sleeping bag with him. She got into her bag. It was chilly.

George leaned over so his head was near hers. “Anything you say in a normal tone of voice can be heard,” he whispered. “And anyone walking south of the tent can see a shadow of us on the tent walls.”

“That’s why you dumped the cots?” she whispered back.

He nodded. “Anyway, I don’t think one cot would hold two of us comfortably.” He kissed her.

“You’re devious. We are wearing wedding rings. Don’t Hare married couples sleep together?”

“Yup. And with their kids in the same house, which means in the same room. I just want to exercise a little discretion.”

Well, that was better than his not wanting her. His hands roamed over her nightie as his kiss got deeper. When she broke to breathe, she pulled the nightie over her head and dropped back into her sleeping bag.

George crawled out of his bag and into hers. When he kissed her again, his hands stroked all of her back. Her front was pressed against him, and she could feel his erection against her leg. He kissed her breast while his hands stroked her pussy.

There really wasn’t enough room for petting in the one bag. She helped George fit between her legs. Much more compact that way, and even more compact when he tucked his prick inside her. Well, that was one of the advantages. George kissed her, then leaned up on his elbows so he could get his hands on her boobs.

The palms against her nips and his strokes deep within her pussy excited her. Perversely, so did the need to keep quiet in the tent. She spiraled higher and higher. She grabbed his ass and silenced herself against his shoulder as she came.’

When she woke, she turned towards him. He was already awake, and she kissed him. Tasting his toothpaste reminded her that she hadn’t brushed this morning. She hadn’t brushed the night before either, and after all that spicy seasoning in the snacks! She got up to mend her lapse. The robe was in the closet, and probably cold, too. She didn’t bother with it. He would enjoy the view.

When she got back, she kissed him again. His hands were nice and warm on her. They spread their warmth, and then heat. She reached for him.

“You.”

“Yes,” he answered. He came over her. She guided him in. Then he slowly filled her. He kissed her forehead before propping himself on his elbows. He had a tit in each hand. He pulled back until she felt empty, then pressed forward until she was filled. While making those slow strokes, he looked at her face.

“Marilyn!” he said when lightning struck her. He withdrew, surged forward, and pulsed while he was buried in her depths. “Love you,” he said before rolling them over. That was nice, although there was a lot of weight on her right leg.

My second game had been labeled “Honeymoon.” I’d brought the kitchen timer with me. “For the next hour,” I decreed, “we will only talk.” We had talked; mostly Bob had talked about the biography he was reading. The hour afterwards we had kissed and hugged and talked. We had petted and talked until nearly our normal bedtime. The sex after that had been totally vanilla, but totally different from “Missionary.”

“Sweet darling!” Bob had said when he finally had reached my moisture and felt its extent. I’d lain there and let his fingers work their magic until I feared my release would be all alone. I had tugged at his shoulder then.

“Beloved,” he had asked while climbing between my legs, “do you want me as much as I want you?”

I’d nodded. “Lonely,” I’d said. He’d replaced his fingers with Junior, smoothing my juices over both of us until I thought that I would explode. “Now,” I’d said.

“Now,” he’d agreed, and stopped at the entrance. After shifting his weight, he’d entered slowly and smoothly. I’d been stretched and rubbed and filled. I’d felt his smoothness and thickness and firmness and heat. My body had tensed under his before he’d quite finished. “Oh love,” he’d said, “I can’t describe how wonderful you feel when you surround me.” I’d felt a preliminary tremor, and he must have felt it too. He’d gasped and started his motions. These had quickly carried me over and I’d gone soaring away without ever leaving the sound of his voice or the sensations of his strokes within me.