Message-ID: <60245asstr$1272935408@assm.asstr.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {ASSTR} repost "Crush" {Uther} (MF cons 1st inc)
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Date: Mon, 03 May 2010 21:10:08 -0400
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If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to
read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do
something else.

This material is Copyright, 2003, 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.  I would prefer to do my own
reposting, thank you.

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
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly
coincidental.

                              = = =

                              Crush
                            by Uther
                            Pendragon
              nogardneprethu@gmail.com


"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."


She ended up wanting a very small ring.  The wedding was in  her
home town.  We kept the apartment one more year, and she got  a
job in town.  Bradley turned out to still think of me as their
kid intern.  I got a job with Dalton Technologies, and we rented
a bigger apartment.  The single room was fine for the two of us,
but we wanted a family.

Over that year, I had learned more about her.  Just before her
period, her breasts were more tender.  I don't bite, but she
normally likes hard suction and pressure from my hands and lips.
While she is bringing herself off, gentle licking is better.  She
was never difficult to bring to orgasm; even the early problem
we had during intercourse was more my excitement than her
slowness.  During these special times, though, her climaxes came
even more easily.

We'd already decided that children were in our near future a
little before her first period in our new apartment.  I stroked
her to three orgasm, then I let her excite herself while I kissed
her and watched.

Towards the end, I knelt between her legs.  I kissed her to  one
orgasm and then to the edge of another.  Then I entered her.   It
was our first time without a condom, and she was smooth and
very, very, warm.  With nothing between us, I felt her grip me as
another orgasm shook her body.  Then I was driving within her
faster and faster.  I actually began to climax first, but she
joined me in a mutual explosion.

Much later, I moved to her side.  I hugged her.  "That was the
best," I said.  "The best it's ever been. and every time with you
is delightful."

She didn't say a word, but she hugged my arm as we dropped off
to sleep.  Brian wasn't conceived that time, of course.  Her
period began two days later.  Still, it was a symbol for me.  I
think it was a symbol for her, too.  Our life as a family
included satisfying her needs.

When we did conceive a baby, everybody on both sides of the
family was joyful.  We were overjoyed, ourselves.  And we were
even happier at the effects on our love life -- even if we
couldn't tell anyone else.  Kristen's driving need for orgasm
didn't occur during that entire period.  (Of course, we didn't
check on what would have happened if we had denied her an orgasm
for a week or two.)  It remained easy to bring her to orgasm,
though.  As she grew larger, we had to abandon some positions.
Still, there were positions enough, and having your wife desire
your attentions every day is a wonderful feeling.

Kristen rather stole the show when we arrived for Shelley's
graduation.  She was obviously pregnant by that time.  I
apologized to Shelley for the division of the attention on what
should have been her day.  "Nonsense," she said.  "I've already
talked to Kristen, and I'm invited to visit when the baby is
born."

And so she was, and so she did.  She had enrolled in the
university, so she arrived two days before orientation began and
stayed with us.  We put her in what would be Brian's room.
Shelley was enjoying being an aunt.  And we were enjoying her
obvious admiration of the center of our lives.

"I hope," I said to Shelley, "that you don't mind my going  into
your room."  I picked up Brian and carried him over to his
cradle.

"Really, Jeff," Shelley said when I came out, "it's Brian's
room. I just hope you don't mind my interfering with your
parenting for your son."

"Don't worry about Jeff," Kristen said.  "The only part of
parenthood he really enjoyed ended with Brian's conception." Now,
that was unfair.  I *did* enjoy that part, but I enjoy  caring
for Brian and holding him, too.

Shelley turned pink.  "Look at her blush," Kristen said.   "You'd
think you were seeing a virgin at nineteen."  At this,  Shelley
turned from pink to bright red.  It was fun to see, I'll  admit;
but I took pity on her.

"So, Shelley," I said, "what are you going to be taking this
quarter?"

Kristen snorted.  We'd already heard the answer.  For that
matter, Shelley was going to take more-or-less what Kristen and I
had.  Freshmen don't have all that much choice.

Still, Shelley was grateful for my change of topic.  We talked
about her plans until Brian cried.  "Want to change him?" Kristen
asked.  Shelley nodded.  The two of them went into Shelley's (or
Brian's) room and shut the door.  I went into our room and got
ready for bed.  Since we had a guest, I put on pajamas.  For that
matter, I wore a robe for my trip to the bathroom.

Kristen came in some time later and rummaged through her  closet.
She went out with her robe and the fancy peignoir which  her
mother had given her in preparation for our marriage.  Now, I
like that nightgown.  While I prefer her naked, I knew that this
was inappropriate for this night.  (It was inappropriate even
though Shelley and I had each seen her naked many times.  I
didn't expect her to appear naked in front of the two of us.)
Still, I wouldn't have expected her to wear the peignoir in those
circumstances, either.

I lay in bed imagining Kristen changing into that outfit.  The
blankets tented over me.  This was the wrong night for such
imaginings.  It was still too early for us to resume intercourse.
Kristen had said, "You've always been willing to take care of me;
I'm willing to take care of you."  We would lie side by side, and
her hands would caress my balls while her mouth covered my cock.
I was still too afraid of bringing germs to her stressed-out
vagina.  So I kept my kisses, although not caresses, above her
waist.   Even that would be out for this night, though.  Shelley
would be too close.

There was a light knock on the bedroom door.  It had to be
Shelley, Kristen would come right in.  What did Shelley want?  I
turned on my side -- the most effective way to get rid of that
tent.  "Come in," I called.

Shelley was blushing wildly when she walked in.  She was also
wearing Kristen's peignoir.  "What the ...?" I said.

Shelley whispered something.  Then she managed to speak  audibly,
"She said you'd be gentle with me."

"Gentle?"  Had I ever been rough with Shelley?  Now, rough  with
Kristen, sure -- but that was sex play, and not during her
pregnancy.

"You were gentle with her, you'll be gentle with me."  She
blushed a deeper shade of red.  I finally tumbled.  I turned back
the bedclothes in silent invitation.  Shelley got in under the
blankets. I covered us up.

"Shelley, have I ever kissed you?"  I knew the answer.

She shook her head 'no.'

"It's about time I did."  I leaned over to kiss her mouth.  I
kept my hands to myself, for the moment, but I pressed forward
with my tongue.  Her mouth tasted sweet under the toothpaste.  I
could feel her nervousness.

I broke the kiss.  "It's really your first time?" I asked.
Shelley had gone through half a dozen boyfriends in the last two
years.  I couldn't believe she'd brought her virginity -- however
technical -- to college.  She nodded and blushed more.

The story came in fits and starts, between kisses and during
caresses which I kept outside the peignoir.  Kristen had teased
her again in the room about blushing like a virgin.  Shelley had
confessed that she was.  By this time, she was an unwilling one.
She wanted passion but was afraid of pain, to say nothing of
being afraid of pregnancy.  "You need someone like Jeff," Kristen
had said.  She never would have said that within my hearing.

"I've been looking for someone like Jeff," Shelley had  answered.
"I don't meet men, only boys."  I was only five years  her
senior; she'd known me for four of those years.  On the other
hand, she'd seen me as an older man for all that time.

Kristen had said.  "Jeff likes you; you like Jeff.  Too bad  you
two can't get together."  I wasn't there, but I know my wife.
That comment had been only to draw a deeper blush from  Shelley.

"Too bad," Shelley had said.  "I'd trust Jeff more than the  boys
I know."  Somehow -- I wasn't there, and Shelley wasn't  clear --
the suggestion had turned serious.

Kristen had lent her the peignoir and sent her in to me.  "She
said," Shelley told me, "that you were gentle with her.  You
would be gentle with me."

I'm not sure that I had been gentle with Kristen.  I'm not  sure
I'd  had any style with Kristen; I had been following her  lead.
Shelley's leading, on the other hand, clearly had ended  when she
got in the door.  I was the experienced party in that  bed.  And
I was a good deal less nervous about Shelley than I had  been
about her sister.  I knew where my cock went, not only in  theory
but by feel.  And I knew this time that she wouldn't  bleed;
whatever hadn't been up Shelley, enough had that the way  would
be clear.

Still, I had been advertised as going to be gentle.  And  Kristen
and I had petted up a storm for hours before our first  time
together.  For that matter, we'd petted up a storm for the
quarter before. Shelley might be willing to just pull up her
skirt and spread her legs.  (On the other hand, if she had been
willing to do that, I'm sure that there had been plenty of
opportunities in her high school.)  That wasn't really an
introduction to intercourse, however.  What I needed to show her
was the full pattern, from the introductory kisses which we'd
already begun through the preliminary climax a good man brought
his partner, to the final orgasm during intercourse.

If Shelley were anything like her sister, of course, that  final
orgasm wouldn't occur her first time.  Still, I knew a lot  more
than I had known four years before.  I'd enter Shelley when  she
was worked up.  If I could bring her to orgasm the first  time, I
would measure up to my billing.

When I kissed her again, I let my hand slide up the peignoir  to
cup her breast.  I left it there when I broke the kiss.  She
sighed audibly, and the nipple pushed back at my palm.  I kissed
all around her face; then returned to her mouth for a deep kiss.
This time, her tongue responded to mine.  I broke the kiss to
look deeply into her eyes.  Shelley blushed.

I adjusted my hand to cup the bottom of her breast.  The thumb
and forefinger could hold the nipple through the thin cloth.  I
bent to kiss the peak of her other breast.  That nipple responded
by hardening as much as the other.  Shelley blushed, deeper if
that were possible, and started to raise the skirt of the
peignoir.

"Where did Kristen say she would be sleeping?" I asked.

"In Brian's room."

"Then we have all the time in the world, don't we?"  She  blushed
again but lay back.  "Look, follow my lead.  If something  hurts
you or disgusts you, then you can say no.  Up to then, let  me
set the pace.  You came to learn, after all."

"You're right.  You're always so right."  No I wasn't, but --
just now -- it was good that she thought so.

I kissed her and cuddled her.  I returned to her mouth time  and
again.  Between those times, though, my kisses strayed to her
neck and her bare arms.  I kissed her breasts through the
peignoir, too.  Finally, I lifted the hem.  She sat up, and I
helped her take it off.  I kissed her mouth again and covered her
with the sheet.

I was kissing her as my hand caressed her bare skin.  Her  nipple
was hard against my palm.  Going lower, I smoothed the  skin over
her belly.  I pulled the sheet up with my other hand.  When my
fingers passed over her mound, she squeezed her legs  together.
Fine.  I stroked her thighs gently, down, then up  until I
touched her lower lips.  She stiffened, but didn't say  anything.

I stroked her thighs, trailing my fingers between them.  As I
did that, I kissed her face, then her throat, then her shoulders.
I brushed the sheet lower with my face as I kissed the top parts
of her breasts.  She tensed as I got near her nipple, relaxed
when I moved to the top of her other breast, tensed again as I
approached that nipple.  I did this three or four times before I
actually kissed the far nipple.  "Oh Jeff," she said.  She made
even my name sound romantic.

I licked the nipple then sucked it.  I kissed a path down that
breast and up the other one, a circle around the areola before
touching it.  I tried to lick the areola without touching the
nipple.  I didn't quite succeed, but the randomness of that
contact was turning her on.  I felt her belly relax under my
forearm.

It tensed again when I sucked fully on the nipple.  She  relaxed
much more when I withdrew my lips, her legs falling  apart.  I
took that opportunity to clasp her entire mound in my  hand.  Her
legs clamped together again, but my hand was where it  wanted to
be.  The next time I sucked her nipple, her mound rose  up
against my hand.

She still reacted with tension, but it felt like a different
kind of tension. I returned to her mouth, pursuing her tongue
with my own.  While that was the agenda for the top half, my
fingers explored her outer lips.  She didn't trim her hair there
at all. It felt silky.  I played with it for a bit before parting
those lips.

When I did, I could feel her juiciness.  Nervous, she might  have
been; tense she might still be; but she was turned on as  well.
I spread some of that juice upward on the insides of her  outer
lips, just missing the inner ones.  On the third pass, I  brushed
against the inner ones -- touching them as lightly as  possible.
It seemed to me that Shelley inhaled more deeply in  response to
that touch.

I kissed up her neck towards her mouth as I parted the inner
lips.  I timed it so that my tongue met hers just as my finger
brushed her clit.

You can't jump while lying flat on the bed with someone  holding
you down at the groin and pressing you down at your mouth.  She
jumped anyway.  Luckily, her mouth opened further rather than
closing on my tongue.

I took some time spreading her juices all over her lips.  When
my finger returned to her clit, my mouth returned to her nipple.
I kept reminding myself to vary what I was doing.  I would have
been stroking Kristen's clit all the time by now, but Kristen is
a unique woman.  Anyway, as I had told her, there was every
reason for Shelley and me to take our time.  I played with her
lower lips, only occasionally brushing her clit.  I stroked it
firmly even less often.  I moved from one breast to the other
often enough that I hoped neither was getting sore.

When Shelley seemed near, I kissed downwards from her breast.   I
removed my finger from her valley entirely and caressed her
mound with my palm instead.  I climbed between her legs, moving
them further apart as I did so.

When I kissed her thigh, Shelley shook.  She could tell where  my
kisses were heading.  Although her legs were spread, her lips
had closed.  I kissed them -- just lips, no tongue.  Then I
spread them with my hand.  My first lick got a rich taste of her
juice.

When my tongue first touched her clit, she bucked.  Now I did
concentrate there.  She had been as close as I had hoped.  A few
tongue strokes and she went over.  I licked there while she
shuddered.  Finally I covered the entire region of the top of her
valley, the part within a half inch of her clit, with my mouth. I
sucked.  Still sucking, I licked while she convulsed.

When I let go, she collapsed.  I was in the midst of  extricating
myself when she shuddered for one last time.  I had  bought a box
of condoms in expectation of Kristen's recovery.  I  lay next to
Shelley while I recovered that box from my drawer and  got it
open.

I put one still-sealed packet in my left hand and cuddled
Shelley with my right arm.  We had scheduled an occasion for her;
it wouldn't have been fair to start it while she was distracted.
Slowly, her breathing returned to normal.  When she turned her
head towards mine, I kissed her shoulder.  "You okay?" I  asked.

"Yes." She took a few more breaths.  "It's never been like
that." That was very nice to hear.  Shelley had always been good
for my ego.  I trailed my kisses towards her breast.  "Are we
going to...?" she asked.  Her blush spread all the way to the
tops of her breasts.

"Yes.  Soon."  She blushed, if anything, more deeply.  This  was
fascinating to see this closely.  Even her nipples seemed to  get
more blood.  Maybe that was from my attentions.  I licked the
close one, then the other, then the close one again.  when I went
over to the far breast a second time, I changed to serious
sucking.  I fingered her lower lips at the same time.  She was
still juicy, or maybe juicy again.  I withdrew my hand to open
the packet.

Experience tells.  I could keep kissing her while applying the
condom.  When I climbed between her legs I pulled each of her
knees up to give me what I figured to be the best access.

I spread her inner labia with my fingers and placed my cock
between them.  "You're there!" she said.  I was there.

"Do you want to?" I asked.

"Oh yes!"  I pressed forward until I felt Shelley all around  my
tip.  It was the right place, but I wasn't going in.  The
tightness was maddening.  My cock wanted to be -- needed to be --
surrounded by that tightness.  I pushed.

For an instant, she was tighter than ever, but I wasn't  moving.
Then she said "oh!"  The tightness clasped all around the  head.
Slowly, fighting the need to drive into her, I went inward  until
there wasn't any of me to go deeper.  Then I raised myself  up
until I could focus on her face.

"You all right?" I asked.

"I'm okay.  It's not hurting so much now."

"Want me to stop here?"  Could I?

"Just stay like this."  Surrounded by her warmth and  tightness,
I stayed above her.

"Say when," I said.

"When.  Could you keep it slow?"

Before moving my cock, I adjusted my arms so I could stroke  her
breasts.  Then, very slowly, I eased backwards.  "That feels
better," she said.

I took the opportunity to kiss her.  "Tell me if there is a  new
hurt," I said.  After all, there was nothing I could do about
the original one.  Then I eased forwards.  I couldn't make myself
stop there.  The feelings were so wonderful, her tight cunt
gripped me so closely.  Gradually, I sped up.  She didn't
complain, even put her arms around me.

I could feel the pressure building.  "Shelley!" I said.  Then  I
rammed into her and pulsed.  And pulsed.  When it ended, so did
I.  I dropped onto her.  A minute later, I managed to roll off
her.  I lay on the bed sideways facing her and cuddled her to
me.

"Did it hurt awfully?" I asked when I could speak.

"Not awfully."

"Feeling better?"

"Oh yes.  And it won't hurt again."

"I don't think it will," I said.  Of course, what did I know?   I
hadn't expected it to hurt the first time.  I didn't ask if she
had come again; obviously she hadn't.

"Well," she said.  "I'm glad it was you.  What if the boy had
been rough?"  And I hadn't been?  I kissed her shoulder for a
while.  When a little energy returned, I removed the condom and
tied a knot in the loose end.  I could see just a trace of blood
on it before I tossed it in the wastebasket.

I kissed her shoulder again.  "Can we have a real kiss?" she
asked.

"Anything you're ready for."  She turned to face me, and we
kissed.  It was sweet if not passionate.  "You'll sleep better
facing the other way," I said when she broke the kiss.

"Am I going to sleep here?"

"Well, Kristen has the only other bed," I pointed out.  She
snuggled her sweet derriere against me.  I held her breast for a
moment, then moved my arm so it wasn't weighing on her.  The feel
of skin against my skin was comforting as I dropped off, but she
was dressed in the peignoir again when I woke in the morning.

I dressed back in the pajamas for my trip to the bathroom.
There, I was careful to brush my teeth.  When I got back, Shelley
looked awake.  I leaned over to kiss her.  She didn't open her
mouth, and I didn't push it.

I cooked breakfast for the adults while Brian had his.  "Did  you
two enjoy yourselves?" Kristen asked.

"Oh yes," Shelley said.  She blushed again,  "Jeff was every  bit
as gentle as you said he would be."

"I enjoyed myself very much," I said, keeping the enthusiasm  out
of my voice  I could tell already that this was going to be  my
last, as well as my first, time with Shelley.  I would,  however,
have to deal with Kristen every night of the decades to  come.

The end
Crush
Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2004/03/18
2010/05/03

The index to almost all my stories:
/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm
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