Chapter 3: Experimenter

Saturday, Andy filled an old pop bottle with water to wash himself off so Marilyn wouldn’t have to handle his stickiness. When he picked her up, she brought new information; she had learned more about dreams in Psych class. She teased him about his earlier statement that he dreamed of her at night. So, dreams were constructs you made up after you woke. It didn’t change that she filled his thoughts.

“That’s not fair. I do dream of you, same as anyone else dreams. It’s just that it happens at a different time...” Teasing was fine. She knew that she was the center of his thoughts. And... “So, dreams are much more complicated than I’d thought.” Marilyn was somebody who wanted to know things. Weird as they looked as a couple to some outsiders, including her sorority sisters, they had some compatibilities.

Lunch eaten, they got down to the main purpose of their picnics. They kissed, stripped, kissed again. When he kissed up the inside of her thigh, she guessed his destination.

“Andy?” He’d die if she stopped him.

“Let me!” He hadn’t done all that studying to have her restrict them to Victorian standards. She tensed as his lips neared her vulva, but she didn’t push him away. That was the standard she’d stated. He kissed her labia majora, licked them, separated them. When he licked her labia minora, her body stopped resisting.

“Oh, Marilyn,” he said. It was a response to the present taste of her arousal and to her present acceptance of him. It was also a response to the future that had been promised to them. He licked gently on the labia minora and clitoris, savoring the taste, glorying in the odor, repressing his own reaction, praying for hers.

And his prayers were answered. She writhed under his mouth and arched upwards. When she sank back down, he sucked directly on her clitoris. She writhed again, moaned, and kicked her feet. When he licked her clitoris again, she continued writhing.

When she relaxed despite his actions, he lay his head on one of her thighs and reached for the rubber. His position wasn’t the best for putting it on, and he couldn’t see. Still, he managed. Then he went back to kissing her again. She took a while to respond at all, but, when she did, she rapidly returned to the state of tension.

Before she could begin writhing again, he left her to get into position. This time it would be both of them. Kneeling between her spread legs with his chest touching her sweet nipples, he spread her outer labia with his hand. The feel of her entrance on his tip was exquisite.

“Ohhhh, Marilyn!” As he moved forward, she clasped his tip, his head, his shaft. He felt himself move through that soft warmth until she embraced all of his cock. Buried in her soft acceptance, he kissed her -- all he could reach was her forehead.

He straightened his arms to watch her, but all his attention was on the feelings from his cock. He lifted his hips slowly to withdraw to his tip, then he felt the sweetness of her passage as he moved into her again. She rose to enfold him on his later strokes. He tried to move slowly to appreciate the exquisite sensations better, but those sensations were driving him more and more rapidly. He was afraid he’d finish all by himself again, and her tightening around him wasn’t helping.

“Oh!” she gasped. She writhed under him. This time, she writhed around him, too. This was too much. After one more upstroke, he drove into her clasping sweetness and pumped himself into her.

“Gah!” He felt more glory than he ever had. He felt triumph and surrender. He held his right arm straight for one more second than seemed possible so that he wouldn’t collapse over her.

When he fell to his left, she turned with him. They lay panting in each other’s faces while the exultation turned to sweet lassitude. Feeling himself start to soften and come out, he reached around her thigh to grip his cock and the rubber. It stayed on.

“You get it?” Marilyn asked.

“Yeah! Really the open end is pointed the right direction; so, it’s safe even if I don’t.” Then he thought. “Safe, but maybe messier.”

“Well, I’m glad. I didn’t really check before ... I mean, I trust you and all, but I still should check.” Well, her opinion was a surprise. One reason he’d waited until he had was to keep the embarrassing -- and terribly unromantic -- business out of her sight.

“I didn’t think of that. I just thought it was my responsibility.” And it was his responsibility, as much as he’d blown the responsibility on their first picnic.

“And, if anyone in the whole damn world is responsible, it’s Andy.” Well, that was -- usually -- one of his good points. Still, it didn’t sound particularly romantic even to him. Well, if she liked him for being responsible instead of for being dashing, she was less likely to be disappointed. But he’d been only partially responsible here.

“But I’m not being responsible if you’re worried, even if you don’t have reason to be. I don’t want to make you pregnant, but I don’t want to make you worried, either.”

“You’re a great guy.” She was so kind.

“Well, a guy who loves you greatly,” he said.

“I thought we were going to learn things together.” She lost him on that one.

“We couldn’t have been much more together than that.” Although, at the end, he’d wanted to enter her more deeply, that wasn’t possible.

“But where did you learn that kiss?” Oh. That was her question. Where did she think he’d learned it? She didn’t sound as accusing as she’d be if she thought some other woman had taught him. Taught him in the last week?

“Cunnilingus?” He wanted to spend the time telling her how beautiful she was, how sexy, and how much he loved her. She wanted to hold a conversation. On the other hand, this was even more like he imagined happy married couples behaving than her setting out the meal. In bed, after sex, they would talk over their day. His parents had certainly talked in their room -- or, at least, argued. Some days they hadn’t spoken to each other before going into their room and shutting the door. But she was still waiting for his answer. “Darling, I’m your Andy, remember? And where does your Andy learn things?”

“You read a book?” She got it in one.

“I got out a couple of books. Actually, I’d read some books like that before. I’ve been interested in sex for a long time.” No sense trying to hide anything from her.

“So, you’re going to take me through a library of marriage manuals?” Now, that sounded wonderful, if impractical. They’d lie together in bed, reading the book. He’d ask her ‘Does that sound like something you’d like?’ But they did not yet have the bed, or even the time.

“Maybe sometime. It’s more that I’m using my strength to make up for another of my weaknesses. I’m a lot less experienced than you deserve.” And he was, but he was somebody who could learn. That description of him sounded more like a good candidate for a long-term relationship than any other could.

“You’re my Andy. I’m your Marilyn. You are exactly as experienced as I want.” And she was so sweet and loving when he was so calculating.

He felt more recovered now, and he’d kissed almost none of Marilyn. But there were things to take care of first. He got his legs untangled from hers and removed the rubber. Again, although it had felt like gallons pouring out, the semen in the rubber was more like a gram. He tied the end and put it in the bag with the rest of the garbage. He took the water bottle off the edge of the blanket and rinsed himself off. Maybe she’d touch him again, and he didn’t want her to feel slime if she did.

He started his kisses on her mouth. Her tongue was delightful, but when she drew it back, he went with his program to kiss all of her. He started on her face, since he was there. He went down her arm to her hand. Then he kissed the other hand and back up to that shoulder. Her breasts were right there, and so inviting. He kissed both and sucked the nipples alternately. This wasn’t his project, though. Her abdomen quivered when he kissed across it. But he’d done almost nothing for her back.

“Turn over, will you?” When she did, he started on the small of her back. While he was kissing that, he stroked her smooth rump. When he reached between her legs to her labia, the sensation was entirely different than when he reached there from in front. She spread her legs to permit him access, and he stroked the smoothness from one end of her inner labia to the other. And the far end, of course, held her sweet, sensitive clitoris.

Meanwhile, he kissed up her spine to her neck. He kissed her there and pretended to bite it. With his mouth fully open, he licked her neck more thoroughly. She was sweet, and he loved her, and she seemed to be responding yet again. She was so sexy!

He reached his left arm around his head to scratch her back. Once he’d got into that position, all his attention returned to his right hand, to the one finger of that hand which kept stroking her moisture down to lubricate her clitoris even more. Her rump was soft, and then hard, under his wrist. Her neck arched under his mouth. The darling was beginning to respond. His darling was responding to him.

Then her response was total. She raised her butt under his arm. She writhed beneath him, hard to see but an entirely different experience to feel. Her butt hardened under his arm as her legs lifted. She continued writhing, and it was all he could do to resist biting her neck for real.

When she stopped writhing, he moved off her to let her rest. When she didn’t turn over immediately, he said “I love you.” That was true, but the expression seemed inadequate. He began to scratch the rest of her back lightly; he’d already got one corner. The problem was he’d said “I love you” much earlier, kissing her goodbye on the porch, for example. And, while that had been sort of true -- certainly not false -- he had felt so much less for her than he did now. He loved her so much, and she was so beautiful -- her face, her breasts, her mound, however you looked at her. But right now, she was beautiful from this perspective.

“You are so beautiful,” he said. “Do you think they designed violins to look like a woman?” She didn’t answer but rolled over as if she didn’t like the comparison. “Although, I will admit that I like these even more.” He kissed both breasts, not seriously, just acknowledging their beauty. Then he began to lick and suck the closer nipple.

“A-cup.” She always had something negative to say about her beauty.

“Well, not just now. I prefer them out.” Maybe he could tease her out of that negativity.

“Pfft. You know what I mean.” She wasn’t in a mood to be jollied out of.

“Y’know, our first conversation.” Then he remembered that, while it was the first time he’d really noticed Marilyn the woman -- as opposed to the president of MYF -- it hadn’t really been their first conversation. “Well, not the first but back when the MYF set up tables for the rummage sale, way back then, you made some negative comment about your shape. Well, even back then, when I had only a suspicion, I liked your shape.” Actually, while he much preferred this view, you got a pretty good idea about a woman’s shape -- if not this woman’s lovely skin, responsive nipples, and the delightful hair covering her mound -- from seeing them clothed.

“Yeah,” she said. Well, at least that was established.

“Well, now that we’re a couple, don’t you think you should give some value to my opinion?” Not that his opinion was any great outlier. What did she think that George character wanted? He wouldn’t bring him up, though, he didn’t respect his opinion on any other subject. And, anyway, while he loved to talk, this talk was interfering with kissing her nipple.

“Andy, you’re wonderful.” And she added a kiss to that statement. Whether he was wonderful or not, the kiss certainly was. With his mouth busy with hers, his tongue tasting hers, he let his hands roam over her sexy body. Her back was smooth from her shoulders to her marvelous, firm rump. Her side was corduroy from her ribs, then smooth, although jumpy, then it swept up to the hip bone. Her legs went from bony at the top to smooth skin as he ran his hand down, then even smoother skin covering softness on the inside. The mound with its short hair guarded the center which proclaimed her a woman. And those soft folds had their own hair, hair which he stroked. Then he returned to the soft curvature of her breast.

But her hands were on his body, too. On his arms, they welcomed his own strokes. On his chest, they played with his hair. As they went lower, he could barely breathe. Well, before she brought him to the point of no return, she should start on her own voyage. He stroked down over her abdomen, which quaked under his hand, to her vulva. When he reached her moisture, he began stroking in earnest.

Marilyn opened her legs to give him better access, but her own hand went the last inch. He was happy he’d rinsed himself off. She fondled his cock and then went lower yet. She tickled the insides of his thighs.

“C’mon,” she said, “I let you.” Well, so she had, and she was letting him even as she spoke. He raised his right leg. He held his breath as her hand went to his balls, but her touch was very gentle. It was, perhaps because of this gentleness, also very exciting. Not content with simply touching, she rolled his balls around on her fingers. When he had to lower the leg, she held him in her nearly-closed hand. Even so, she stroked the back of his scrotum with her fingers. He was getting hard, and she didn’t seem about to stop. Well, he no longer wanted her to stop, but he should show some caution. It didn’t look like she would.

“Wanna put it on?” After that, whatever happened would have only short-term consequences. She didn’t respond, which could mean anything. He got the packet and handed it to her. She concentrated on the job, which got her hands away from his balls. His mind said that was a good thing; his lust disagreed. He got into position so she could see and reach him, but he went back to slowly stroking her center.

When she put the rubber on, it covered him as thoroughly as his action had. There the resemblance ended. While he’d been businesslike and avoided the parts that even his own hand would excite, she was a temptress. He was lucky that the rubber wasn’t only fitted but filled by the time she was done. When he got into position she looked, if not quite frightened, at least startled. She’d been direct enough in her actions; where did she think they were leading? But his reading had led to one more idea.