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From: Jay Bird <first_category@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Gifts by fcp (MF, rom, oral, 27k) <*>
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This is a sequel to my previous story, Marie's Gift. I have tried
to make it stand up alone; if I failed, I'm sorry. I would like to
thank Ivan, Forrest, and Galillee for their kind letters of praise and
encouragement. In fact, I would like to thank Ivan for his invaluable
assistance in finding dramatic mistakes, unjustifiable foreshadowing,
illogical dialog, and overly rushed passages. Any faults that remain
are my responsibility alone. Anyhow, this is going to be a bit talky,
but you probably expected that. Feel free to comment by email or on
ASSD.
If you're interested, you can find Marie's Gift in the ASSM archive at
http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/10534.txt
This story is copyright 1998 by First Category Press, publishers of
countably many nowhere dense articles (of all sorts) for over twenty
years. All rights reserved. I grant permission for non-commercial
archiving and storage provided this file is not altered in any way.
Don't sell it; don't charge anyone for reading it. Don't repost it;
I'll do that if and when I want, thank you.
Oh, and don't read it if you are under 18 years old. Try Judy Blume.
Or J. D. Salinger. Or, try One on One by Tabitha King. You won't
regret that.
Gifts (MF, rom, oral)
by fcp
<fcp2718@poboxes.com>
<first_category@yahoo.com>
"Wheee! It's flying!"
"Great, Matthew! Now, run into the wind and let the string out a
little."
"Daddy, it's going so high!"
My wife, Donna, had shooed us out of the house so she could take a
relaxing hot bath in peace. So, Matt and I were in the backyard,
between the house and our now-bare cornfields, taking turns flying a
kite. I enjoy watching Matthew; everything is new to him, and every
new day gives him something to explore. He's a happy, self-confident
kid. He'll be five next month; I just pray that he'll have a safer
time growing up than I did.
"Hi! Having fun, aren't you!" Donna had just come out of the house,
holding a cup of Ovaltine and another of coffee. I kissed her and
took the coffee cup from her, and she went out to Matt.
"Mommy, Mommy, look!"
"I see! May I try it while you have your snack?"
"Here, Mommy!" He gulped down some of the drink. "Thank you." Donna
has trained him well. I put my cup down and walked over to them.
Donna was holding the stick and swaying in time to the motion of the
kite. I stood next to her and curled my arm around her waist, and we
turned to each other and kissed.
Looking at Donna, I found it hard to believe that she had spent much
of last night ravishing me, sucking me for the first time, letting me
rest, and then fucking me from above. She had never been so wanton
toward me before. I enjoyed it, but I had to change the way I thought
of her.
The night before last, I had told Donna of the my small part in the
Second World War, of the fighting in France in the summer of 1944, and
of the battles that still fill my nightmares. I also had told her of
the one moment of peace I had during those dreadful months, when a
sweet French girl welcomed me to her bed, held me, comforted me, and
made gentle love to me with her mouth and her body. I told her how,
after a terrible nightmare of war, gentle Marie would appear in my
dreams to comfort me.
I had worried that Donna would reject me for my faithlessness, both
during the war, and in my dreams. Instead, she had acted delightfully
wild, doing to me what Marie had done ten years before. I felt as
though our marriage had become stronger, and I looked at her with
wonder.
"James, I just spoke with June Jordan. Their car is running again,
and she's going to bring Chris over to play with Matt."
"I can handle that. Chris is a good kid. Did you hear that, Matt?
Chris Jordan's coming over."
"Yay!" Matt took back the kite from Donna and started to maneuver it.
While he was occupied, Donna turned back to me.
"Hon, there's a dance at the Legion Hall tonight. The Jordans are
willing to have Matt stay there overnight; I'll pack up good clothes
for church tomorrow. Is that okay with you?"
"When was the last time we went dancing, Donna?"
"I don't remember. Five years ago, I think. Before we had Matt."
"I think that you're right--we're overdue for a night on the town."
"Do you think we'll remember how to dance?"
"I don't think you ever forget. Besides, you don't have to do much in
the slow ones."
---
Matt was quite happy to go with the Jordans; his playmate Chris is the
youngest of four lively children, and Matt enjoys being in the midst
of their hubbub. Meanwhile, Donna and I had a rare chance for a
romantic dinner. I broiled some lamb chops and set the table, while
Donna steamed some asparagus and tossed a salad. We changed into our
fanciest clothes and sat down to our candlelight dinner.
"Donna, we could always just stay here tonight. I can think of some
things to do while Matt's away."
"James. We won't be out too late, I assure you. Besides, we have
plenty of time."
"Donna, I adore you. I must say that you really surprised me last
night. I thought you'd turn away from me."
She reached for my hand. "Never. You make me so happy."
"Well, you really are a mystery to me. I like it, but what's
happening to us?"
"We're talking to each other. You had told me so little of what
happened to you in the war, and the war changed everything about you."
"I told you so little about the war because I wanted to protect you
from it. There are parts of it I can hardly bear to think about."
"You don't need to protect me. I am your wife, in sickness and in
health, in sorrow and in joy."
"And I your husband, now and forever."
"Before the war, you had been a prankster; I remember how you rewired
the principal's car and left it at the lovers' lane with two
scarecrows inside."
"Do you have to dredge up ancient history?"
"I think he was most angry that the scarecrows had gin bottles in
their mouths."
"Well, yes. I was a wild kid. I thought I was dashing."
"After you came back, you were much more serious. You were also much
more tender. Every day was precious to you. I'd see you look at me
with that smile of yours. You always had this look of awe as if I
were a precious gift to you, always special, always new."
"Every day is precious to me. By all rights, I should be dead and
buried in a French grave."
"And when Matt came, I'd see you standing by his crib with this
incredulous look on your face. I see you with him now, so attentive,
watching him discover the world and enjoying it with him. Do you know
how that makes me feel?"
I tried to say something, but no words came. She leaned over the
table and kissed me. I didn't have to say anything.
"James, I am so lucky to have you and Matt. Never forget that."
We finished the meal in silence. We'd look at each other and smile,
we'd hold hands, and we blew each other the occasional kiss. After we
washed the dishes, we walked hand-in-hand to the car, and we drove to
the Legion Hall, her hand resting lightly upon mine on the gearshift.
---
We arrived at the Hall early; still, it was nearly full. They had
imported a swing band from the state capitol. The band was not as good
as the bands I heard at the English USOs, but I didn't care. Swing
wasn't popular any more; its era had passed. But it was our music; we
grew up with it, we danced to it, and the bands helped distract us
from the war when we needed distraction. Swing was the sound of our
lives; Benny Goodman was on the radio the first time I kissed Donna,
and a Glenn Miller record was playing when I proposed to her. And
swing was in eclipse, a thing of the past.
Not tonight, however, not for Donna and I. I led Donna onto the dance
floor, and we had a delightful time. I don't think we ever missed a
signal or botched a turn; it was as if we were thinking the same
thoughts. She's too tall and I'm too stiff for us to do some of the
more acrobatic moves, but we did ourselves proud. Once, she leapt
into my arms, I raised her past shoulder-height, and I threw her into
a somersault, catching her on the way down. The years were falling
away from us; it seemed almost as if we were 18 again, back in '41,
that last innocent year for America.
Something odd happened, however. When the band switched moods and
played some slow songs, many of the dancers took a break. Some went
for the punchbowl, and others went outside for a smoke. We stayed on
the dance floor, and I noticed Phil and Mary Andersen step onto the
floor.
I hadn't realized they were here; Phil took a permanent limp home from
Korea along with his Purple Heart, and I could not imagine his dancing
much, but here they were. They saw us and waved. I waved back, and I
was surprised to see my wife wave back too.
"Donna, I thought you were angry at them. They interrupted our bridge
game, and for what?" My voice dropped to a whisper: "So Mary could
pay off a side bet by sucking Phil's cock."
"Well, in a way I'm grateful to them. After all, if Mary hadn't done
that to Phil, you never would have told me your war story. You would
have kept your nightmares and your pains secret from me. How can I
help you then?"
"And do you mind my pleasant dreams? Can you forgive me for still
thinking of Marie? Are you angry about what happened in France?"
"I don't think there's anything to forgive. She helped you survive a
nightmare; I'm glad. And I really can't be angry about what Mary did,
not after last night."
"Last night was wonderful. I think we have grown closer to each
other, and what was the cause? Phil and Mary's rudeness."
"Yes. However, if they ever do that again on bridge night, I shall be
greatly annoyed. James, I'm a bit tired; do you mind if we go now?"
"Of course, darling."
We walked to the door, and then she ran ahead of me to the car and
took the driver's seat. I caught up and she opened the passenger
door. "Get in," she said.
"Would you please tell me what you're doing?"
"Ten minutes. Just relax, James."
"I don't think I can."
She drove out of town along a route I didn't recognize, and ten
minutes later she stopped her car near a side road.
"Do you recognize where we are?"
The moon was three-quarter full, and I looked at the roads in the
moonlight.
"No. Wait. That's the road to Grayson's Quarry. Oh, damn."
"That's right. Do you remember the last time you drove me there, to
lovers' lane?"
"I try not to remember that day. June 1942. That's when I asked
you--"
"You were joining the army the next week, and you wanted 'Something to
Remember Me By.'"
"I still remember your slap. Why are you bringing this up?"
"After you took me home, I went up to my room and cried. I thought,
'How could you say that to me?' Mom tried to pry into what happened,
but I wouldn't say anything."
"You still married me, though."
"I loved you, you dim-wit. But I was the 'good girl,' and good girls
say no."
"And the boys always ask anyway."
"And the boys always ask. Dad worried that you had injured me; he
probably thought that you had molested me. He dragged his shotgun out
of the closet and was going to go after you, but I managed to stop
him. I told Dad that you hadn't touched me, that we had only argued."
"That wasn't quite true. We had kissed."
"I was trying to keep you alive and Dad out of jail. He didn't need
to know that."
"They've been cordial to me, and they let you marry me."
"Nobody let me do anything. And people do fight, even if they love
each other. I wanted to marry you, and that was that. And they love
Matt."
"But, why did you still write me? I never knew why you didn't break
the engagement. Many of us got 'Dear John' letters; I was expecting
one."
"That's something you never realized about me. I had thought about
saying yes. Women get horny too. Especially engaged 19-year-olds."
"Oh. You did say no, however."
"That's how we were raised, dear. You left the next week, and soon
all the men my age were gone to the war. I tried to talk to some of
the other girls about it, but it wasn't easy."
"Soldiers tell a lot of stories about their experiences with women.
Most of them are tall tales, however. But no one ever told stories
about his girl. No one ever said that his girl had said 'Yes.' And
suggesting that about somebody else's girl would start a fight."
"Well, do you remember Marge Dunbar?"
"Ted's wife? The pharmacist's daughter? Quiet as a mouse?"
"That's right. Well, she said 'Yes' to Ted before Ted joined the Army."
"No. Really?"
"I'm not kidding you. She told me while we sat at the Woolworth's
counter waiting for a rainstorm to let up. Of course, she could lift
some 'safes' from her dad's desk."
"Oh. Well, I'm glad Ted made it back okay."
"Zoe Carter said 'No' to Miles, and Miles died on Iwo Jima. I think
Zoe still regrets that she had said 'No.'"
"And you? Did you regret your decision?"
"Sometimes I did. True, it was the only one I could make. But you
were gone for three and a half years! There were many nights when I
couldn't sleep because I pined for you so. I'd write you long letters
and then tear them up since they wouldn't fit on Victory Mail. I kept
every letter you sent me in a scrap book. And I had vague fantasies
of what we'd do upon your return and our marriage. I didn't know what
sex was all about then."
"Well, do you know now? Is reality better than your fantasies?"
"Frankly, dear, they haven't been for a while. We've coasted for the
last few years. We haven't put enough effort into it."
"Last night was great. It was the best ever. But, you're right.
I've concentrated on the farm too much, and you concentrated on Matt.
So, why are we here?"
"I want to give us a second chance. I want a chance to say 'Yes.'"
"Hearing that, I feel nineteen again."
Donna started the car again and turned onto the Quarry Road. The
quarry had gone bust back in the 1880s during a business downturn, and
had been left abandoned. It was a place of mystery for all the
children of the area, and somehow it also became the rendezvous for
teenagers who wanted to get away from home. Since the area wasn't
good farmland, there were a few clusters of trees nearby that had not
been cleared. Donna drove to one of them and parked.
We kissed and hugged, and I let my hand drift down her body to her
breast. She slapped my hand away.
"James, I'm not that type of girl." She had said that to me on that
last trip here.
"But Donna, we've been dating for three years, and when the war's over
we're going to get married. Please?" That had been my reply.
"James, we're not married yet. We shouldn't do this. It would be a
sin." She had said exactly that too.
"Donna, I'm joining the Army next week. I don't know when I'll ever
see you again. I might even die in battle. Please, Donna. We love
each other. How can it be sinful? You know that song--can I have
something to remember you by?" I still kept to our script. This was
when she had slapped me and had demanded I take her home. She raised
her right hand and made a motion as if to slap me, but she stopped in
mid-swing and slowly moved to caress my cheek.
"Yes, James. Let me give you the most precious gift I can give you."
I leaned over and kissed her softly. She returned it more
passionately, and then we just kept kissing again and again--soft
kisses, sloppy kisses, hard kisses, French kisses, and long kisses
that left us breathless. Eventually, we ran out of air and fell away
from each other. We looked at each other; Donna's hair had wilted,
her makeup had ran, and her dress was all wrinkled, while I needed a
shave, my tie was askew, my jacket crumpled, and I needed a new shirt.
We couldn't be happier. We both started laughing, dispelling the
tension of our memories of twelve years ago. "Let's get in back,"
Donna said.
We both got out of the car. I went into the back seat right away,
while Donna opened the trunk and pulled some things out.
"Donna, what's that?"
"It's a special occasion. I thought we might have some wine. I also
thought we might need a blanket."
"You're always so well prepared. Thank you." I took the bottle and
corkscrew from her, opened the bottle, and poured it into the two
glasses she held. We raised our glasses, and I toasted her: "To
gift-givers!" "And worthy recipients!" We sat close to each other,
held hands, and finished our glasses. Then, I turned to her and
kissed her. She leaned into the kiss, and as she did, I reached
behind her and started to lower the zipper of her dress. She hummed
her approval.
When I lowered the zipper to its bottom, she leaned away from me and
said, "Take off that jacket." I shrugged out of it and threw it to
the front seat, and she reached for my collar. She made short work of
my tie and quickly undid my buttons. She did the same with my cuffs.
I slipped my shirt off and tossed it onto my jacket. She lifted her
arms out of her sleeves, and the front of her dress fell down,
revealing her brassiere.
"Donna, you're lovely."
"James, you're not bad yourself. There's something I have to ask you,
though."
Suddenly, I saw a bright light from outside. "Donna, look." She
opened her window a bit and looked out. "James, it's a police car.
What will we do?" A man got out of the car and walked over to us.
"All right, now. It's time for you teenagers to go home. I'm going
to have a talk with your parents."
"Deputy? George Stone, is that you? You really gave us a shock,"
said Donna.
"Mrs. Bailey?" He shined his flashlight at me. "James Bailey? What
are you doing here?" George was in high school with the two of us.
He was a dull drone then, and he's a dull drone now. He was one of
those damnable rear-area MPs during the war and came back to become a
cop.
"We're acting like teenagers. It's fun. You ought to try it
sometime. You're welcome to talk to our parents, though," I said.
"James. Donna. You're acting crazy. You can't stay here. And get
some clothes on!"
"We're not hurting anyone, George. Why don't you just leave us be.
Are you going to report us?" said Donna.
"Just go home. What's wrong with you?"
"Absolutely nothing. Mind your own business," I said. George shined
his flashlight at us again, and then Donna murmured, "I'll fix him."
She started to undo her bra.
George gawked, and then he turned around and ran, crying "Jesus!"
Donna lowered the window all the way, dropped the bra onto the seat,
leaned out and waved at him. "Bye George! Don't forget to call my
mommy!" We heard his tires squeal, and then Donna sat back down.
"Donna. I'm impressed. I would never have envisioned you doing
anything so wild, either today or yesterday." I was beginning to get
uncomfortable; her teats were right in front of me, and I started to
harden. I wanted to reach for her, to hold her, to feel her, to kiss
her, to rip off the remainder of her dress and to take her right away.
I didn't, though.
"I think I like being wild. It's more interesting. Do you think
he'll ever tell anyone?"
"No. I know the type. He's a coward, and he makes up for it by
wearing a gun. He'll never mention us to anyone."
"Well, there's one wild thing I'd like to do now. What do you think
Phil's stake in their wager was?"
"Well, if their stakes were comparable, then he would have--Oh!"
"Well, will you? Now? I'd like to know what that feels like."
"I don't know anyone who's done that. Except for Phil, I guess."
"I doubt the Andersens are the only people to do it."
"Well, you were willing last night; it would be ungracious of me if I
were to refuse."
"Besides, you might like for me to suck you again."
I nodded. She reached for me and pulled me to her. I kissed her and
started to stroke her body; I moved quickly to her teats. "Lick
them," she said. I kissed them and then started to lick and suck on
her nipples. She purred. I reached around her and cradled her
bottom; I couldn't feel much through her dress and girdle. She
whispered, "Undress me." I was reluctant to let go of her breasts,
but I pulled back and lifted her dress over her head; it joined the
rest of her clothes in the front.
She unsnapped her girdle, and then turned so she lay lengthwise on the
seat. I pulled her shoes off and tickled her toes, and then I moved
up to her thighs to pull down her nylons. Her scent was heavy in the
air; I was a little dizzy. Was this how it would have been twelve
years ago?
Her nylons came off, and her girdle followed. Only her panties were
left, and I stared. My eyes followed Donna's curves, followed the
stretchmarks that bearing Matt had given her, and reached her center.
Wisps of pubic hair curled above the top of the fabric, while moisture
had stained the front. I needed to see what was within.
I had a problem, though. She lay across most of the seat, and I
didn't really have room to move. "Donna, I need more room. Should we
go home now?"
"Now, James. I need it badly."
"We could go outside." That was brazen of me.
"Bring the blankets." I passed them to her and let her set them up;
meanwhile, I pulled off the rest of my clothes. I heard her call for
me to hurry, and I did. Of course, I checked first; all four doors
were unlocked. And there she was, propped up on her elbows, looking
at me in the moonlight, wearing only a thin wisp of pink material. I
kneeled by her side and kissed her. "Hurry!"
I moved atop her in our usual position for lovemaking. She sank to
the ground, freed her arms, and began to push at my shoulders. I
moved back a bit and nuzzled her breasts, and she let me stay just a
moment before she pushed again. I left a trail of kisses down her
belly, tongued her navel, and then I reached my destination.
I started by kissing her through the fabric. I don't think she could
feel my kiss, but she breathed out a "Yes!" just from the sight. I,
on the other hand, could feel her and smell her scent. My cock got as
hard as ever it did. I kissed her a few times through the panties,
but she wanted more. I wanted more.
I reached for the top of the panties and tried to pull them down, but
I had some trouble getting them past her buttocks. I didn't want to
move away, and finally I just brought my hands to her crotch, grabbed
onto the two leg-holes, and tore the fabric apart. A cool breeze
washed over us, and she moaned. I bent my head to her.
I could have stayed there forever, just hovering over her and looking
at her, but Donna grew impatient. She moved her hands to the back of
my head and pushed me closer to her. It was time; I leaned into her
and took a tentative lick. I heard a moan in response, so I did it
again. She shuddered in response. Her lips began to part like a
tulip in bloom. I licked again, this time pushing my tongue between
her folds; I heard a "Yes!" in response. My followthrough brought me
upward to a little button of flesh, and I swept it with my tongue; I
heard a drawn-out "Ohhhh," the pitch rising and then falling. I
guessed this was the place to aim.
Not right away, however. Donna had taken the trouble to arrange this;
I should make the occasion last. I started circling her cunt,
covering the path with kisses. I tongued the outer lips, and she
shook. I licked her inner lips, and she moaned. I dipped by tongue
into her cunt and moved from side to side, and she closed up her legs,
fixing my head in that position. Well, it was as good a place as any
to lick. It tasted great; I had worried about that. I was nearly mad
with lust, but I resisted the temptation to get up and plunge into
her; I just followed her lead.
I don't know how long we stayed like that; I was happy to make her
wail with pleasure. She deserved it, after all. After a while,
however, I heard her cries slow down and soften. I knew that she was
getting stuck short of the peak, and I needed to work fast; I forced
my head upward and licked that button I had found earlier. Donna's
voice grew louder, and I tried swirling my tongue on her. Donna's
voice rang out: "Oh yes! Lick me there! Finger me, finger my cunt!
Oh, fuck!" I brought my right hand upward and pushed a finger into
her; I heard her call, "Yes, do it hard!" I licked her harder and
worked my finger in and out of her, and then I felt her body vibrate.
Her voice turned into a wordless cry, she started to pulse around my
finger, and then I felt a flood of moisture within her. She fell
silent and limp in my arms.
I disentangled myself from her and moved to her side. She lay there
quietly, peacefully, but she didn't react when I touched her cheek.
She had fainted. "Donna, Donna, wake up," I said softly. She blinked
twice, nodded her head, and opened her eyes. I looked down at her
with concern, and she called my name weakly.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm just so tired. That took a lot out of me."
"I hope this doesn't happen every time I lick you."
"I wouldn't mind if it did. Oh, I'm not being fair to you."
"That's all right. There's always tomorrow."
"Could you take me home now? I'm just so weak."
I got her to sit up, and then I picked her up and carried her to the
back seat. She lay down, and I retrieved the blanket and tucked it
around her. She mumbled something I couldn't make out, and then she
fell asleep. I put on my underclothes and my pants, checked that we
had not left anything outside, and then I drove us home.
I drove slowly because I didn't want to awaken her. I was happy to
have pleased her so, but I was also aching for release. It was
frustrating, but I would survive. While I was driving, I thought
about what we had said and done. I've never heard her talk that way
before. She had never been so forceful about sex, never so active. I
knew that we would have some interesting times in the future.
I think we were both overly inhibited before this weekend. I worried
about repulsing her by requesting things she wasn't familiar with, and
she had been trained in being a "good girl," following her husband's
lead. Neither of us had brought much imagination to our lovemaking.
Perhaps if she had given in twelve years ago, we would not have waited
so long to break loose the way we had this weekend, but I doubt it,
and it doesn't matter anyway. No one can change the past. But we
could make up for lost time.
We arrived home, and I parked outside so the car could air out.
"Wake up, sleepyhead."
"James? Oh, we're home. Thanks."
"Do you need help?"
"I'm okay."
She got out from under the blanket and left the car, only to stand
outside my door. I looked at her; she was still naked and still
lovely. She opened the door, and I hugged her to me. "Let's go
inside. I'm cold." We went inside, and she turned to me. "You dear
sweet man. Please sit down." I did, and she knelt before me. "Thank
you, James. Thank you for everything." She reached for my fly, and
for the second night in a row she took me in her mouth.
Gifts
by fcp
<fcp2718@poboxes.com> or
<first_category@yahoo.com>
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