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From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Swing Shift Swing" Uther
Lines: 401
Date: Thu, 25 Mar 2010 21:10:05 -0400
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This material is copyright, 2010, by Uther Pendragon. All rights
reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one
electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is
included. Reposting requires previous permission.
If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail them to me at
nogardnePrethU@gmail.com .
All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public
figures in the background, are figments of my imagination. Any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.


Swing Shift Swing
Uther Pendragon
nogardnePrethU@gmail.com
MF job

[late night]

Paul punched out first, but he waited for Laura.

"Look, Laura, do you think you could give me a ride home? My car's in
the shop, and the buses don't run this late any more."

"Sure," she replied. "If nothing else, I owe you for telling me about that
vacancy." The conversation on the ride there was desultory. At least
traffic caused no problems at one in the morning. Parking was a pain
then, though; everybody else had made their choices hours before. And
she was happy enough to have his company on the three-block walk
back. "I've never had any problems in the neighborhood, Paul, but I'll
admit that I feel more comfortable walking beside a six-foot guy this
time of night."

"In that case," Paul said, "I'll walk you to your door. Least I can do.
Never heard of muggers in the neighborhood, but that's no comfort if
you meet the first one." So, they walked past his building and came to
hers. When she dug the key out, she had another thought.

"Want to come up? Have a nightcap? Drinking alone is not only the
road to ruin, it's damn lonely."

"Don't want to wake Fred."

"Fred is old news." She was glad, most ways. And she was glad to let
Paul know. Then she shook herself mentally. Paul didn't care. She was
a coworker, not a date.

"Sorry to hear that." Actually, he wasn't. Before he was old news, Fred
had been bad news. But the way to lose a friend was to criticize her
taste in men. Besides, it would sound like he thought he would have
been a better choice -- jealousy. And, although that was a little bit true,
'cause it was a little bit true, he didn't want to give her that idea. "I'd
love a drink."

Upstairs in the kitchen, she gave him a bottle of beer and a clean glass.
With a lady, he would drink from a glass.

"I gave him the gate," she said. "Too bad I gave him so much else first,
but I got wise."

"Never knew what you saw in him. 'Course I didn't see him all that
much -- block party and company picnic."

"You are the wrong sex to see his good points. He was good in bed --
a pig in the dining room, useless in the kitchen, but good in bed. After a
while it wasn't enough. Why'm I telling you this? It's not like I'm drunk.
I've barely started the first beer."

"I asked. Maybe you're telling yourself. Maybe you're ready to tell
someone, and I'm here. Trouble with swing shift. You don't have many
people to talk to. Anyway, I can tell you, some of the guys were
jealous of him. Lots of guys like your looks." Especially your's truly. But
I'm in your apartment drinking your beer --furthest I've got. There's no
sense in coming on too strong.

"Don't seem to act on it."

"Don't turn around fast when you've walked through the plant. You'd
see a lot of guys looking your way. Gals make it hard on us. Say 'Hello
gorgeous,' and I'm a pig that you'd never even talk to friendly. Don't
say it, and I'm a guy who doesn't think you're gorgeous. Lose either
way."

"You really think I'm good looking?"

"Fred break your mirrors? You should know you're good looking. You
might be the prettiest girl in the plant, but you don't look approachable.
Dot, now, gets more wolf whistles. That's 'cause Dot likes wolf
whistles. You get told about available apartments. That way I get to see
you in the neighborhood without you thinking I'm vulgar." And then she
moved in with a handsome guy who dressed fancy. He got to see her
being romantic with a guy he couldn't compete with.

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." And he hasn't finished
his beer, either. that can't be what's doing the talking.

"As long as you think it's nice. I'd say a lot more if I thought you'd like
it."

"You could try and see."

"Tell you what. Give me a take-back on the last one. I'll say things 'til
you think it's no longer nice. Tell me, and we'll both forget the last one.
Deal?"

"Sounds like a deal."

"You have a nice face."

"I still like it."

"That isn't what the guys look at, though." He paused for her to tell him
he was out of line.

"Sounds fascinating." She noticed he'd gone from what he liked to what
'the guys' liked.

"We like -- uh -- what you're sitting on." she didn't look offended. "We
look more at that than at your top, but that's partly 'cause you'd catch
us looking at the front. I wouldn't say that to you in public, y'know. But
I've said it to other guys. They sorta agreed." Whatever promises she
made, he wasn't going to say 'great ass' to her face.

So the guys liked her tits and ass. No great surprise. So did he, which
was nice to know. How far would he go? How far did she want him to
go? However glad she was to have seen the back of Fred, she missed
him sometimes at this time of night. Then Paul got up. She was about to
tell him that she wasn't offended.

"Look," he asked. "Same deal? Take-backs on the last?"

"Sure!" What would he say now? Instead of saying anything, he bent
over and kissed her, full on the mouth! She got up.

"Well, I've wanted to do that for a year. You said you'd let me take it
back, and you'd forget it." Well she wasn't about to forget that kiss.

"That was for only something I didn't like." She stood quietly and
looked at him. He covered the inches between them and held her
shoulders while he kissed her again. As he kissed her, his hands slowly
strayed down her back. She didn't resist when he pulled her against
him. When his hands got to her ass, he quickly brought them back to
her waist. She felt her breasts pressed into his chest and him hardening
against her stomach. He finally pulled back.

"Want to take these into the living room?" she asked.

"I don't care." Which wasn't really what he meant. If she was in the
living room with him, he didn't care about the beer. He poured the last
of the bottle into his glass and left it on the kitchen table when he
followed her. She sat down on the couch, and spread some coasters
around a coffee table in font of it. He put his glass on one coaster and
sat down to her right on the couch. Both glasses and her bottle were
sitting on the coasters and out of their hands.

"Do you want another bottle?" she asked. She saw that his must be
empty.

"No." Now that he had her beside him, he sure didn't want her going
leaving him, even for that short a trip. He held her right hand in his.
When she looked towards him, he leaned over for a kiss. He meant to
make it easily avoidable, but she leaned towards him, too. The kiss was
sweet. When she squeezed his hand, he dared to push his tongue
towards hers.

The touch of his tongue tip on hers gave Laura a surprising thrill. Had
Fred's kisses  been as sexy as this? When Paul moved back, she
almost followed him. When he put his arm around her, she was glad she
hadn't.

"Laura." He was staring into her eyes. Such sexy eyes, and she looked
so honest, too. She had a good butt and great boobs. What really
distinguished her, however, was her sweet face. Even at the end of the
shift, she looked fresh.

He said her name and then sat looking at her. The fierce look frightened
her, but she couldn't look away. When he finally pulled her into another
kiss, she was glad to cooperate --  not only because of the kiss but
because now she didn't have to meet his eyes. Meeting his tongue,
now, that was sweet. And it was thrilling, carrying her away. She hadn't
gone too far away to feel his hands stroke her breasts, but she'd gone
far enough that this added to the thrill.

"Oh Laura," he repeated when he moved back. Had he gone too far?
Not from the look she gave him. He was intensely conscious of his
prick hardening in his pants, uncomfortably so. But he wasn't about to
turn from her to adjust it. Besides, he didn't want her to think that it was
only his prick that wanted her. He pulled her close again to kiss all over
her face. When he eased her back, it was to begin unbuttoning her shirt.

Did she want this? He would stop if she told him to. But she didn't want
him to stop -- pause, maybe, long enough for more kisses -- but
definitely not stop. When her shirt was half unbuttoned, she started on
his.

Laura was accepting this. More than that, she acted as if she wanted
him, too. When he got to the last button he could reach on her shirt, he
pulled her into another kiss. He moved teh kiss to the side of her face,
here ear, the side of her neck, her shoulder. When he got to the bra
strap, he pushed it down. He was in paradise until she pushed him
back. Well, he'd said he would stop. But it was hard as hell to do so.

Paul was wonderful at kisses. He wasn't so good at undressing a girl.
This could take the rest of the night. She pushed him back to get her
own clothes. She unbuckled her belt and loosened the  waist of her
slacks to free the last of the shirt. Then she got the last two buttons and
removed the whole thing. Should she do the bra? Who was she
fooling? Not him, certainly not herself.

Paul watched her remove the bra with delight. Her breasts were all that
he'd imagined. As she dropped the bra on the edge of the sofa behind
her, he reached out to touch that magnificence. At first, he only traced a
finger across the pale smoothness. When sh turned towards him, he
cupped one in the palm of his hand. So full! so soft, yet so firm! He
lifted it slightly. The weight was nothing, yet he felt he was holding all
of
her in his hand. When she attacked his shirt again, he bent over to kiss
that smoothness while unbuttoning his own shirt. For a while, the
position hurt his prick. Then he took advantage of his positions's
blocking her sight to adjust himself. Now, he was still swelling, but the
prick was pointing straight up in his pants. The smoothness of her
breast was no longer enough. He sucked the nipple.

When he kissed her nipple, she felt the tingle down to her toes. She
grabbed his ears to pull him against her breast. Then she stopped acting
to feel. When he kissed his way to her right breast, the tingle in her belly
turned to spreading warmth. She felt herself falling back, but it was no
problem as long as Paul stayed with her. When she felt his mouth leave
her breasts, she moaned in frustration. But he kissed a path up her neck
to her mouth. Then he was lying over her. His tongue touched hers; his
chest pressed against her breasts, the chest hair tickling her nipples; she
could feel his hardness press against her belly. She wanted more. Her
hands fumbled at his belt.

He had the taste of Laura, the feel of Laura against his length. He
wanted more; oh! how he wanted more. But some faction of his mind
told him he couldn't have more. When he felt her hands at his belt he
pulled back.

."Unless Fred left something," he said, "this should stop here. I don't
have anything. I stopped carrying them in my wallet years ago."

"What are you talking about?" It had been so fine a minute ago. She'd
been ready for him. Now, he wanted a discussion.

"I don't have any contraceptives. Did Fred leave any behind?" Not that
he wanted to use anything from Fred, let alone something so personal.
But he would ache so hard he'd limp every step home if he had to leave
now.

"I'm on the pill." She couldn't believe he thought she'd leave something
like that to Fred. Fred! She'd lost her mind for a while, but she hadn't
lost it that much.

"Well, then. . .  Or have I ruined it?" Ruined his one chance at Laura.
Still, he couldn't put her at risk.

"Well. . . " She had come down. On the other hand, he looked even
better like this than he did with his shirt on.  And he had thought of her.
He'd thought she'd been stupid, but he'd wanted to protect her from her
stupidity. She'd had enough of a man who took selfish control. Maybe
it was time for a man who took responsibility. Besides, she could see
that he was still hard; she wanted to feel that hardness where it
mattered. "Maybe, since we've taken a break, we could go where we'd
be more comfortable." Was her room neat enough? For a man, a man
with a hardon? Any room with a bed was neat enough.

She wasn't throwing him out! He followed her into her bedroom. Some
clothes were scattered about and two dresser drawers were open. The
bed wasn't made. The only messy room in Laura's apartment was
neater than the neatest room in his. Still, she clearly hadn't expected
anyone to see it. That expressed a sort of trust in him which made him
love her more. Of course, anything Laura did with her shirt off would
make him love her.

"I wasn't expecting company," she said. Man with a hardon or not, she
felt she needed to apologize.

"I'm glad," he said. It wasn't quite what he meant, but it got him a smile.
When he went forward, she lifted her face for another kiss. It started
sweet, lips barely touching lips. It turned hot. His tongue explored her
mouth, and he crushed her to him. She had her arms around him and
was hugging as hard as he was. He felt his hardon pressed against her,
her sweet breasts mashed into his chest. It was that last thought which
made him relax his grip.

"Maybe we should get the rest off," she said, "at least shoes." She
wasn't going to try to get grease from the plant out of her nice flowered
sheets. She sat down on the bed. He looked around and found a chair.
Her shoes were off before his. She hesitated, then undid her belt and
work pants. He went further, Stripping off socks and, then, his pants.
When he stood, she couldn't keep her eyes off his shorts barely
covering the cock straining against them.

When he strode toward her, Laura stood up. This kiss began hot. He
pulled her against him and felt all of her glorious skin pressed against
his. He worked one hand under her panties to sup her butt, then both.
When he stepped back, it was to pull them down. That hair was
beautiful, and the mound it covered was lovely, as well.

"You're gorgeous," he said. When he shoved her gently, she sat on the
bed. He bent down to pull her panties off. Then he lifted her legs to
swing her onto the bed. She scooted to the other side. He lay down on
the offered space. He kissed her face and then her breasts. He couldn't
keep his hand off that beauty. When he stroked her mound, she opened
her legs in acceptance.

He was right next to her, touching her length. Then, he was kissing her
deeply while his fingers went to her center. Soon, he had her soaring.
She exploded, but he didn't stop. She exploded again. She reached for
him and met cloth. She tore her mouth away from his.

"You!" she said. He didn't need any more invitation. He stripped off his
shorts and climbed over her legs. She reached out to guide him in. The
touch of her hands was delightful, but couldn't match the touch of her
lower lips around the tip of his prick. As he moved forward, he felt her
smooth warmth slide around all of him. He stopped for a second  when
he was fully buried in her to savor the sweetness surrounding him. But
that very sweetness forced him to move.

She'd missed this, the fullness, the body stretched over hers, the strokes
deep within. And she had this warmth, this fullness, from Paul. She
thought for one minute that it came with kind words and consideration.
Then she soared away again. She broke through the ceiling, the very
sky. She was soaring in brightness when she fell. It was a long drop,
but she landed on her own bed and in Paul's arms.

He tried to hold back. He wanted to savor the sweetness forever, but
he was driven to move faster and faster. When she clutched around
him, he lost it completely. He drove in, pressed against her and into her,
and pulsed and pulsed.

"Laura!" he cried. Then he collapsed.

She heard her name called from a distance, and then she was holding
him. She was holding him in her arms, and -- sweetly -- in her cunt. The
second containment became less and less secure as he slipped out. The
first changed from a pleasure to a burden.

"Sorry," he said. He was crushing her sweet breasts again. Crushing her
ribs probably, too. He moved off and then lay beside her touching
everywhere he could. When she put out a hand, he held it.

"I can't believe," she said, "you'd think I would leave that to Fred.
"Look at my belly." He looked. As a matter of fact, he looked at her
from head to toe -- or, at least, to thigh. She watched his gaze cover
her, but didn't object.

"Sorry." He seemed to be saying that a lot, lately. On the other hand,
the view was spectacular.

"Did you really carry them in your wallet?"

"In high school, I carried one in my wallet. One for three years. I didn't
meet any girls on the pill back then. Really. as far as I got, they might
all
have been on the pill. I bought the rubbers in my freshman year, and got
inside a girl's bra in my senior year. I was a prepared for more success
than I got."

"A boy scout is always prepared."

"Yeah. I should keep a lifeboat in my apartment in case of floods
reaching the third floor."

"Stay here?" She wanted his warmth beside her all night.

"You're sure?" He didn't want to leave. He wanted to feel her beside
him. But he didn't want to outstay his welcome.

"I'm sure. You stay here while I get the lights." And he got to watch
Laura move around the room and out the door naked. She was just as
beautiful coming back, Then the light went out and he felt her warmth
again. "Move over," she said. "This is my side of the bed." He moved
over, gave her lots of room, felt her pull up the covers and slide in
beside him. Then he reached over to hug her.

"Is this all right?" She'd told him to move away, after all.

"Delightful." She was held in strong arms, but she was cherished rather
than owned.


The end
Swing Shift Swing
Uther Pendragon
nogardnePrethU@gmail.com


The index to almost all my stories:
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