"Aren't you adorable?" Shelley cooed at my baby son. In twenty or thirty years Brian would bring a project in under deadline, just like his old man had last week; and he'd only hear that it was over budget, just like his old man had. Now, he garnered praise for sleeping. "Honestly, Jeff, Brian looks just like you."

"She still has a crush on you," Kristen said.

Shelley blushed. "I just think that Jeff is a pretty neat guy," she said.

Kristen snorted. Now, she must have thought that I had some good points; she'd married me after all. But, having married me, she wasn't about to admit any such opinion when I was within earshot.

As to her sister, I'd met Shelley on my first trip to visit Kristen's family. I had been very much "on approval." Kristen had to sleep with her sister to let me use her room. Aside from my actually being a pretty neat guy, I was fairly-well obliged to act nicely towards Shelley under those conditions.

(Yes, another sleeping arrangement had occurred to me. No, I hadn't dared suggest it.)

Besides that, she had been going through that coltish stage of girlhood then, not quite child -- not yet woman, and Shelley is one of those people who can't control their blushes. It didn't hurt at all that the woman-shape she grew into later was just about my ideal. Kristen can't object to that. You could always tell the sisters apart, especially in their faces; but you could always tell that they were sisters, too.

Shelley became sort of the younger sister whom I had never had, but I didn't push that relationship to the extent of teasing her into blushing as her sister and even her parents did, as a real brother certainly would have done.

On later trips, Shelley and I would usually spend one evening downstairs talking after everyone else had gone up, Kristen having confided in me that she "needed some time alone." And -- although most of the conversations were totally innocuous -- once I had been able to counsel Shelley on boys and their quirks. That conversation was almost lit by her blushes, but it had led to a few e-mails before she found someone else to give her advice.

Anyway, the nearly four years since that first visit had been sprinkled with reports from Kristen that "Shelley has such a crush on you." Sometimes the impetus was reasonably clear. A letter or a phone conversation had included mention of my name, or Shelley was present to blush at the report.

Sometimes the connection was distant, at best.

The quarter-break after that first visit to her home, Kristen and I didn't leave campus; my roommate did. Earlier precious hours of privacy and her whispered instructions had taught my tongue the way around her inner beauty, and that was my agenda for that afternoon. My roomie had left at eleven, after all, and there was no sense in waiting for nightfall.

"There is," Kristen said, "no hurry at all." That didn't count the hurry in my groin, but we did it her way. We almost always did, and it was almost always exquisite. We kissed, we petted, she stripped me to my waist before I removed her bra. She had one orgasm from my hand before we got to the main event. In those days, I was inordinately proud that I could bring her two orgasms in a single session.

Anyway, I kissed her mouth and her still-stiff nipples goodbye and scooted down the bed to her thighs.

She raised and spread her knees to give me maximal access. I kissed her thighs and sniffed the aroma that told me she was ready. I used my thumbs to part her outer lips. The inner ones were juicy and protruding. I licked along that ridge, and then slowly parted them with my tongue.

Her nectar tasted sweet and a little salty as I licked upwards. Stopping just short of her clitoris, I returned my tongue to the pool of her juices. Meanwhile, my breath was warming her clitoris and her sensitive flesh just around it.

I slid my arms up until my hands could cup her breasts. I gently stroked her nipples while my mouth was busy below.

Soon, she stiffened and pulled my head against her. I slipped my right arm down and was able to insert one finger into her tunnel. I rubbed the top there while sucking very gently around her clitoris. She undulated underneath my face while clutching around my finger.

Finally, she pushed my head away. I immediately withdrew my finger. Then I moved up the bed to lie hugging her.

"Do you have a rubber?" she asked after her breath came back.

Did I have a condom? Does Kansas have wheat?

"Do you want me to put one on?" I asked. I reached over towards the nightstand. Finally, I got the box out and extracted one packet. I opened it and fumbled the condom on.

"Be very gentle," she said. "I've never done this before."

Neither had I, and her statement scared me for a moment. Would I hurt her? Would she bleed? Would I even be able to find the place?

After wiping my face off with the sheet, I kissed her mouth. I retraced my earlier path down her body with my lips. When I opened her below, I started back up. While still kissing her mouth, I positioned myself. Her hand came down to guide me to just the right spot.

She was tight around the head of my cock. Tight and incredibly hot. As I pushed in, however, there was no real resistance.

When I was in as far as I could go, I looked at her face. She didn't appear to be in discomfort. Neither did she look like she did when she was near climax.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm okay. I feel glorious. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Do you want to move?"

If anything, moving in and out felt even better. As warm and smooth as her mouth had felt over my cock, it was nothing to compare with moving inside her. Soon, I couldn't help but speed up. I was pulling almost out and then ramming myself into her.

I exploded. Then I collapsed onto her sweet frame.

For minutes, I felt nothing but her hands patting me on the back. Then she was giggling under me.

"What so funny?" I asked.

"You are. Can you roll over?"

I did. "That was wonderful," I told her. "That was the best I've ever felt in my whole life."

"I'm glad."

"It wasn't wonderful for you was it?"

"I enjoyed it. I loved the feel of you inside me. You know, Shelley is right."

"Huh," I said, sounding more intelligent than I felt.

"You are a pretty neat guy."

That was nice to hear, but she hadn't come. Nor did she that evening when we tried it again. Later, lying in bed with my roomie in the next room and Kristen blocks away, I relived every detail of that experience. I decided that my worries had been silly. My finger had been there before me; her fingers had; there had been at least one boy back home, and who knows how many tampons. She'd never been quite so explicit about her freshman year as she had about her precollege past -- these were guys I was likely to meet, after all -- but she had gone through a lot of relationships before she met me at the beginnings of our sophomore year.

I never doubted that I was the first man she had gone all the way with. She was so open about her other activities before me that she wouldn't lie about that.

For some time, we went on as we had done that first afternoon. I would bring her to a climax -- maybe several, then I would have my climax inside her.

Meanwhile, other life went on. We ended our sophomore year; I suffered through a summer away from her; I got a new roommate in for my junior year, a guy named Jason. I visited Kristen's family on our spring break.

The time with her was lovely. Her family treated me kindly. On the other hand, her closeness was a constant provocation, and there was no way to relieve that provocation in that house. The last day before we left, her mother took Kristen aside for a very private chat. Kristen wouldn't tell me what it was about, although she looked a little amused when I mentioned it on the bus. We couldn't really talk there, though. We were surrounded by strangers who could overhear. We couldn't do much else, either, although we did get a little silent petting in.

Luckily Jason was out when we got to my room, He had left me a note saying he was out on a late date. That was enough permission for Kristen and me. We kissed as soon as we saw that note. Soon we were both naked on my bed. I had seen Kristen most of the time for a week; I had touched her for hours on the bus; I kissed her to a writhing climax on that bed. I was at my limit when I reached in my drawer for the box of condoms.

I found a piece of paper instead. "Jeff," I read to Kristen, "I hate to do this. But I have a hot date, and it's too late to get to the drugstore. I'll buy you another box on Monday. Jason." Monday was in the future; shopping hours on Monday were in the far distant future.

Kristen laughed. "Poor Jeff," she said. "Lie down."

I did. Her mouth was magic around me. When I erupted, she took it all. She spat into the wastebasket afterwards. "Poor Jeff," she said again, "you must have been saving that up forever."

"All week," I said. I never mentioned my solitary reliefs to her in those days.

She lay down beside me. We hugged quietly, and talked for a bit. We were young, though, and naked, and lying beside each other in a bed. We hadn't had enough contact for a week. Soon, we were petting again. I brought her to two more climaxes. She pushed me down and went to get her purse. "You wonder what Mom talked about so privately?" she asked.

I'd wondered. I'd even asked her that, and she'd refused to answer. Right then, however, I had other things on my mind. Well, mostly on other organs, but on my mind, too.

"She had noticed that I seemed to be fairly serious about you." This was more than half way through our second year together, my third visit as her guest in that home. "She worried about our getting physical. 'This isn't granting permission, ' she said. But she wanted to make sure that if we did anything, I had protection." Kristen showed me a single condom. "She gave this to me. She worried that boys sometimes didn't take care. I was tempted to reassure her."

I reached for the condom. "Lie back!" she said. "This one is mine." She opened the foil and rolled the rubber slowly down my cock. A necessary interruption when I did it, her application of the condom was a sensuous delight.

She pushed me back on the bed and straddled my chest. For minutes, she moved only enough to bring one breast and then the other to my mouth. I loved that, delighted in kissiing and sucking her nipples; but I wanted more. So, really, did she. When she reached back to position my cock, I parted her lower lips with the fingers of one hand.

"Oh!" she said as she lowered herself onto me. "I've wanted that." And so had I, for days. She was gloriously warm around me, hugging my entire length. She was beautiful above me, with a lascivious smile I saw whenever I forced myself to look past those luscious breasts.

I kept one hand on her mound, the other wandered from one breast to the other. She rested her hands on the bed to either side of me. As I caressed her, she began to move up and down on my cock.

This felt wonderful. I was totally excited, totally engorged. Yet, between having come in her mouth in the past hour and lying in this strange position, I couldn't quite come. Both exalted and frustrated, I petted her as she moved in her glory above me.

Kristen was becoming more and more excited. Not only were both my hands free to reach all her other erogenous zones, she was also rubbing her g-spot directly against me. She threw her head back and forth, making her always-exciting breasts dance under my hands. She was flushed and panting.

Then she climaxed. I could see a ripple of tensed muscles start at her ribs and proceed towards our junction. I could feel her spasms around my cock. That, finally, took me over. I pulsed within that clutching warmth.

She collapsed over me. We both lay there gasping as I oozed out. Minutes later, I managed to raise my arms to hug her. We might have been lying there yet, but the alarm rang -- Jason would be back in fifteen minutes.

When Kristen got up, most of the condom was still in her. The mouth, luckily was outside by inches. Most of my jism had poured out. She grinned at me, pulled out the condom, and threw it in the wastebasket.

I walked her home, leaving the dorm well after I had expected Jason. "I suppose I should forgive him," I said. That had been the finest sexual experience of my life thus far.

"I don't see why," Kristen said. "I enjoyed myself greatly, but that was your doing. It was hardly his."

We learned from that experience, even so. In our later encounters, I would bring Kristen to more than one orgasm, then excite her to the brink of another. Only then would I enter her.

Forgiving or not, I wanted an end to roommates. When I got an internship with Bradley Electronics that summer, I got my own one-room apartment off campus. I signed a year-long lease.

Kristen would visit me there; she would even cook us meals there. She wouldn't move in. When she ignored my hints towards the end of the first quarter, I invited her openly. She rejected the idea.

Meanwhile, our relationship was developing. I still petted her to orgasm before I tried anything else. But her orgasms during intercourse were now reliable -- indeed, quite enthusiastic. We no longer needed her to be on top, although I still found that a great position. I had both hands free, and watching Kristen work herself closer and closer to the edge was a recurring delight. I could feel it, of course, whatever position we adopted.

And, with only ourselves in the apartment, we found places other than the bed for making love. She didn't like being on the bottom on the floor, and who could blame her? Even with her lesser weight on me, I found it uncomfortable; the sensations were worth the discomfort, though.

Towards the end of the second quarter, I really pushed. By that time, I was seriously considering matrimony -- although I hadn't mentioned that to her, yet. Whatever the case, we should live together for a while before we committed to doing it for the rest of our lives.

I had planned my campaign. I had fed her a good meal for which I'd done all the cooking. I'd kissed her until she was anxious to go beyond that. Then I'd brought her to four orgasms without seeking my own. "Enjoying yourself?" I'd asked while we took a break lying side by side in the bed.

"Yes. I always enjoy myself with you." The 'always' was a white lie; I can be a bastard on occasion. Still, I tried to make our times together as pleasant for her as possible.

"You could have this every night, you know. Why not move in? By now, even your mother knows that we have something physical going on."

"I can't!"

"Why? Tell me. Maybe it's something I can change. But, if you don't tell me, it's not likely to be something I do change."

"You wouldn't like me any more if I told you."

"But I'd still love you. How can I love you if there is this big thing about you that I don't know?"

"It's not big. It's much less important than you think."

"It's important enough to keep you from lying in my arms all night. It's important enough to make me walk you home again and again."

"Well, if I tell you, you will only walk me home once more."

"Is it another man?" I was scared.

"No. It's not even about sex, although you wouldn't believe that."

It took me a lot longer to tease it all out of her. I had been so proud of giving her multiple orgasms. The number I gave her, however, couldn't compare with the number she gave herself. At least once a month, sometimes more often, she had to lie in bed and bring herself off many times in a row. How many, she didn't know. She thought the number varied from one month to the next, but she wasn't in a mood to count them at the time.

She'd done this since about a year after puberty. And the discovery of masturbation had released her from really bad periods. I was the first person she had ever told, and she only told me because I wouldn't let the subject go. When she needed a little privacy at home, that is what she needed to do.

"And having you around all the time just makes the need worse. You'll think it's all about sex, but it's not. It's just about getting a little relief. When you came in me and I didn't come, that was sex."

"And you need privacy for that? You couldn't do it lying in bed beside me?"

"No. Never."

"Well, I already know you do it. And I'm not horrified." My ego was fairly-well crushed, but I wasn't horrified. I had been so proud of the orgasms I delivered; now I knew that these were a trifle compared to the home-brewed ones she needed. "We can arrange times for me to leave you alone. For that matter, I'll probably be gone enough times so that special scheduling is unnecessary."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your moving in." We hadn't been talking about anything else. "If you moved in, I could find a way to give you the privacy you need."

"You still want me?" she asked. As a matter of fact, I wanted her desperately. I'd concentrated on her satisfaction as a prelude to this conversation. I wanted her then and there, and picturing her pleasuring herself hadn't helped.

"I still want you to move in. What ground-rules do you require?"

"Oh Jeff." She kissed me. One thing led to another, and we didn't finish the discussion that night. She did lay down conditions later, but she did move in.

One of her conditions was that I not mention the subject any more. If she needed time alone, she would say that. Neither of us would mention why she needed it. I found, as I had suspected, that her "once a month" meant just before her period. Without even making her say that she needed time alone, I would be careful to tell her that I would be staying at the computer lab late or the library until it closed at those times.

She could claim that this had nothing to do with sex, and she seemed to believe that. Still the aroma when I got home was sexy as hell. If she'd done that in Shelley's room on my visits to her family, I couldn't see how Shelley hadn't known.

One Saturday, I was planning to give her some privacy. Then the heavens opened. The rain was coming down in sheets, and getting to the library was out of the question. Nor was there likely to be any place I could go the next day; the library and the computer lab would be closed, the park would be unbearably wet. I could tell that she was antsy, but she could tell that I wasn't pulling her chain deliberately. It was raining a little more lightly when we went to bed.

When I turned to her, I had an idea. We petted as we usually did, although I may have been more direct than was my custom. Soon, she was lying on her back with my mouth on her breast and my right hand on her mound. After her first climax, though, I didn't move to replace my hand with my mouth. Instead, I kissed her on the mouth and continued stroking her.

I counted ten of her climaxes before my hand tired out. "I love you," I said. "Can you carry on from here?"

This violated her condition of silence on the subject, and she had absolutely rejected the idea doing anything while I was present. By this time, however, she had more important things on her mind. Her hand moved down to replace mine. I counted twelve more orgasms. There may have been more, she didn't relax much between them towards the end.

After the last, she turned over and went to sleep. I turned off the light and held her close. It took me a while to doze off, though. In the first place, I was quite aroused. In the second, I was thinking about everything I had learned.

In the morning, we made sweet love. Kristen, whom I would have expected to have run dry, came once to my hand and again around me.

A month later, I came home from a long bout in the computer lab to find Kristen asleep and the bed saturated with the aroma of her arousal. By the next time her period rolled around, our graduation was looming over our future. Well, it had been looming for some time, but -- by then -- even I couldn't ignore it.

Anyway, I had scheduled a long visit to the library for the last possible day. The night before, I kissed and petted Kristen as usual. Instead of moving over her when she climaxed, though, I kept up my strokes. She came a second time and -- very soon after the second -- a third time. I kissed her ardently, and then trailed kisses down to her breast. I broke from kissing her nipple to say, "My hand is tired; want to take over?" Then I went back to sucking on her nipple.

She hesitated for a bit. Then she spread her legs and reached between them. My lips were on her nipple as she convulsed again. "Oh darling," I said. Then I kissed a line from one breast to the other. I was licking the far nipple when she got close again. I managed to time it so that I sucked the entire top in while she was climaxing. Then I kissed her forehead while she went on with her strokes.

When she seemed to be coming to the end, I grabbed a condom. I knelt between her legs and pushed her hands away. When I kissed and licked her center, she reacted immediately. After that orgasm, I moved up her body and entered her. She continued to climax.

The first two were the first climaxes she had ever had around me without my participation. They were glorious. She clutched around me and thrust her groin upward against mine. I could hear her panting in my ear.

Her third carried me with her. The feel of her tightening around me triggered me, and I gushed into her -- or, at least, it felt like it was going into her. The condom held, however.

We slept wrapped together that night. The morning was too hectic for any discussion, and I really did have studying to do at the library that night. It wasn't until she got home the next night that we could talk.

"Look," I said. "The lease is about to run out. Should I renew, or do we need a bigger place next year?"

"What makes you think there will be a 'we' next year?"

"That's the other thing. Will you marry me? This has been great, but we're about to turn into college graduates -- old people. Don't you think we need more permanence and legality in our lives?"

"You're asking me to marry you?"

"Yes. I want to spend my life with you. Marriage seems to be the way to do that."

"I thought that you would consider me too odd."

"Well, you seem to like me. That's odd enough. But, as for the other thing, it's maybe not something you should tell your mother, but I have thought of you sexually for a long time. I'm not shocked that you are sexy."

"I've told you before. Sex has nothing to do with it."

"So, you think I have weird opinions. Will you marry me anyway?"

"I dunno," she said. "Maybe I should ask Shelley's advice." I was devastated, and she must have seen that. "Silly! Of course I will. You should know what Shelley would say. When did you have in mind?"

I didn't really have anything in mind. I wanted to be married; I'd have been perfectly willing to skip the wedding if that had been possible. "Soon. Just when requires scheduling. I've been saving up for the ring."