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FOREST stretch her right nipple
"FOREST" {Pendragon} (MF rom wl cons)
FOREST
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
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, 1996, 1997, 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.
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.
# # # #
FOREST
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
Jeanette and I had originally planned our whole honeymoon as a
hiking trip. Jeanette's brother, Greg, had been aghast. He had
insisted on paying for two nights in a resort-style hotel near
the trail. Now I think he was right.
The first night was painful for her. The day was a glorious
day with Jeanette and luxury; I'm afraid that our newlywed status
was obvious to everyone. The second night as we were getting
ready for bed I put the wrapped condom on the night table.
"Do you mind?" she said. "I'm still sore."
"'Marriage is about sex.' But sex isn't about intercourse.
There's a lot of petting we can do."
"Putting that down seems to say, 'I'm going to have you
tonight.' I feel owned."
"We need it until you get something. Do you want me to hide
it somewhere?"
"That would be worse. 'I'm going to have you sneakily.' I
don't know. I know you're not like that. It's just how I feel."
"It's how you feel. That's not 'just.' How Jeanette
Brennan feels is important. Do you want to handle them?"
"Hmmm?"
"It does mean that you'd have to be overt in your
decisions."
I was able to tease her out of her nightgown that night. We
didn't have intercourse, but I held my beloved skin to skin. I
stroked parts that night which had been denied me for three
years. We were kissing when she finally reached her orgasm, and
I felt her gasp in my mouth. She was frantic for a minute. We
were still kissing as she relaxed.
Wonderful as it had been to climax deep in her body the
night before, I could accept a delay that paid erotic dividends
like that gasp of delight.
The box of condoms had been among my things in the bathroom
that night but not the next morning. She said nothing, and I
buried the second box at the bottom of my pack.
That morning we sent our suitcases back to my on the
bus, paid our bill with Greg's card, and started up to the trail.
That night was our first in a tent. It was easier to undress
Jeanette that night. Our petting was informed by some sense on
both our parts as to what brought her response.
On the second night on the trail there was a condom by my
side of the tent flap before I crawled into the sleeping bag, and
I found a naked beside me afterward. I took that as a
license to seduce rather than an invitation to instant sex. I
explored all parts of her with my hands and her upper half with
my mouth before I was sure that she was ready.
I eased into her more slowly than I had on our wedding
night, since she now had no barrier which required an initial
thrust. We made the adjustments which the novelty of our
position required. When I began my stroke, she tried to match my
rhythm and soon succeeded. I thrust into that glorious smooth
clasping, and her hips thrust back. I withdrew to the tight
portal, and she dropped back. I pulled her to me by her
shoulders, and she hugged me and tightened her legs.
I thrust deep into her as I came in convulsive spasms, and
she sank back down in relaxation.
As soon as my breath returned, I resumed kissing and
petting. Within minutes, she had her own orgasm. That was the
pattern of our nights. She was a compliant lover, turning eager
in the course of my petting. She would reach her peak before or
after intercourse but not during.
The very intensity of my desire was part of the problem. I
had wanted this for years; I walked beside her all day; I
petted her and on her breasts. At that point I was too
turned on to last very long. However, I was learning the pattern
of her response, and she seemed no nearer orgasm when I lost my
control than she was when I entered her. I longed for the day
when our intercourse was as exquisitely exciting for her as it
was for me.
I kept these thoughts to myself. Jeanette was a friendly
companion by day and an amorous bride by night. I am not idiotic
enough to concentrate on the when the doughnut was so
delightful.
We had scheduled a break for the end of the first week of
our hike. Six miles down a country road from the trail was a
motel with a store and laundromat. Hikers use it to get
themselves and their clothes clean and to take a break from the
trail as well as to start and end hikes. We were going to take a
day off, wash clothes, take showers, and sleep in a bed. I had
special hopes for that break. I hoped that the greater mobility
and the greater comfort possible in a real bed would provide an
opportunity for the breakthrough that I had been awaiting.
We turned down the road that led to the motel in the early
evening. There wasn't time left in the day to do the jobs we'd
scheduled for the break time. Getting to the motel after dark
would just cost us two nights' rent. We'd look for a place to
camp along the road.
At twilight, we found a good camping spot, left our packs,
and went to the farmhouse that looked attached to those woods to
ask permission.
One of the problems of a fully-equipped hike with a
beautiful woman is that the pack and frame hide her hips from
behind. This walk, however, gave an unhindered view. On a
country road near dark, safety required that we go single file;
and politeness required that the lady precede the gentleman.
Jeanette may have noticed the day birds returning to their nests.
I spent the entire quarter of a mile watching her hips tighten,
relax, and sway slightly as they swung her marvelous legs in
their all-day pace.
People like newlyweds. The farmer gave us permission, and
his gave us two glasses of iced tea.
The walk back was as scenic as the walk down, with
Jeanette's hips moving with the slightly difference of walking
uphill. You have to look closely to see the difference, but I
managed.
My mind held another thought as well. I had been afraid of
our sex life turning into something which was done for Bob.
"Sometime," I thought -- as I had before -- "she has to realize
that she is giving me permission to seduce her, not acceding to
my pressure to have sex." This would require a night when we
petted, and it was *my* decision not to go further. That was a
hard decision with the sexiest woman in the southeastern United
States in my arms. "This, however," I thought, "might be the
night."
The next day we would be in motel, in bed, after showers,
behind locked doors. I'd be shaven. We'd check in before noon,
and she might be amenable to a long matinee. Tonight might be a
good time for me to call a halt. Then I concentrated again on
her hips.
Setting up camp with a partner who knows what she is doing,
what you are doing, and why, makes the Ice Capades look messy and
inefficient. If our team lowered its efficiency with an
occasional smooch or hug, we hadn't brought a stopwatch. We were
trading off tasks day by day so that I was that night's cook.
After dinner I scrubbed the pans and then took the little
spade to the next clearing in. After I had covered over the
I returned to find her, as usual, in the sleeping bag before me.
The tent was not all that much bigger than the double sleeping
bag, and we had our heads out the flap on a fine night like that
one. I stripped outside the tent, slipped into the bag, and
stowed my clothes from there.
Finding her mouth in the dark had been a problem in the
beginning, and we now made a game of it. Where it had taken me
20 seconds to get from her hairline to her mouth on the first
night on the trail, it now took me several minutes to find my way
from her shoulder. I was kissing all the way, of course. The
mouth that I found was as firmly shut as her giggles allowed, and
I had to push my tongue between her lips. Then the game was
over.
Her teeth opened, and her tongue darted to meet mine. When
she pulled me down into a hug, I felt her firm nipples pressed
into my chest by her soft breasts. I always have a tremor of
fear that I am going to damage them or crush their lovely shape.
Jeanette didn't seem to worry about that, however. She hugged me
tight against her.
With a slight shift, I freed my right hand so I could pet
her side. At that moment I was as helpless as I had ever been
stroking inside her. I could not have stopped that hand for a
year's tuition. Yet I was not touching her and was
passing over the least sexy part of her hips. I was not groping
her sexual parts, but I was holding Jeanette. And I had to feel
Jeanette right then. She rolled her leg back and forth so her
thigh rubbed against my erection, but that was mostly an
acknowledgement. When we broke the kiss, I settled down on my
side. She nestled back against me with her head on my arm. I
held her right and licked the back of her ear. She held
my hand against her and occasionally shoved her butt
against me a little harder. After a few minutes, I drew my head
back. My eyes had adjusted to the light, and the clearing
outside looked bright -- if monochrome -- in the starlight.
We talked. Does that surprise you? Daylight is about 14
hours in that season, and we'd been actually walking for more
than 11 of that. We were tired if not yet sleepy. We didn't
dive into a muscular session of sex.
But it was more than that. We had things to say. We had
four or five years of common history which had been transformed
by a marriage service. We had a decade before that which hadn't
been shared and needed to be shared now. We had the fifteen
month period of near-constant separation which was the difference
between four and five years. On the trail, you see things which
you stop seeing if you say, "Look at that doe." We had the
universe pressing a million stars down among the treetops.
Besides, we had broken from a year of clothed writhing under
threat of a clock. We were going to make love, and we didn't
have a deadline. The lack of deadline was, itself, sensuous.
Then too, I think that love and lust are further apart in
women than in men. Jeanette certainly needed time to put the
trail pace behind her and to be a naked woman held by a naked
before she was ready to be a naked woman pierced by a naked man.
That had nothing to do with love or trust. I was beginning to
learn that I had dozens of wives, all named Jeanette. I think
she had two husbands, day shift and night shift.
Then Jeanette pressed her hips back into my lap once too
often. She met an erection a little too engorged. I rolled so
that my thigh pressed into the line between hers. I stretched my
left hand to cup her left breast. I stroked between her thighs
with my right hand. She parted her legs so I could press my
right thigh between them until it reached her dampness.
The back of her neck and the tendon reaching to her shoulder
get a lot of kisses in this position. Partly it is because they
are minor erogenous zones. Mostly it is because they are the
only areas that I can reach while breathing.
Even then, however, there was time for talking.
"Did you know," I asked, "that you have the sexiest butt in
North America?"
"You haven't seen all the butts in North America."
"Not for lack of trying."
"Anyway, you don't even check out the boys."
"Guilty."
"You spent the whole walk back from the farmhouse ogling
mine didn't you?"
"I was not ogling. I was making an impartial aesthetic
evaluation of the clench of your gluteal muscles as you walk
uphill."
"Absolutely, purely, aesthetic?" For some reason she
sounded dubious.
"Pure as the driven snow. Of course, actuality is only part
of aesthetics. One has to consider potentiality as well. For
instance, to take a random example, there is the question of how
gluteal muscles which look beautiful while propelling a gorgeous
stride of lovely legs would look -- or even feel -- while
thrusting back at a lover thrusting himself between those thighs.
Purely as an aesthetic example, of course. There could be many
other questions."
"Which others did you consider?"
"Umm, well...."
"And I believed this man's promises."
Having reached her mound with my hand, I fingered the very
top of her cleft on alternative sides. I imagined that I felt
the clitoral shaft moving side to side as one finger pressed down
and then the other. I lowered my thigh to make room for my hand.
Then I had her whole perfect in my hand. I just held it for
a minute while I played with her nipple and kissed the back of
her neck. Then I parted her lips with one finger. She was
wetter than she had ever been at this stage.
"Oh love," I whispered.
"Ihm hmm."
She tensed when I stroked up her cleft. I stroked down
again to her entrance. I slipped the finger into her tunnel, and
she gasped. Bringing it out, I stroked upward almost to her
clitoris then returned. I moved it around a little in the
moisture to guarantee a smooth passage. Then I smoothed some
lubrication a little way up and returned for more. All the while
I was playing with the nipple on her left breast. By the time I
had spread the lubricant all the way up her cleft to her
clitoris, she was panting and thrusting back against my thigh. I
could hunch over so that the fingers on my left hand could
stretch to her right nipple. I took it and rolled it gently
between thumb and forefinger. Each stroke of my right middle
finger now went the entire length of her cleft, passing lightly
over her clitoral area. Each time this happened, she pressed her
hips back into my thigh. By this time, I had quite forgotten my
noble scheme of showing her that I could decide to just pet even
when she invited intercourse. Finally, she tried to turn in my
arms.
"No love," I said, "this way."
The condom was at the bottom of the tent flap on my side. I
extracted my left arm and reached for it. It took both hands and
30 seconds to get it on. I returned and pressed into her cleft
from behind.
"Help me," I said.
She reached back and placed me right. She arched her back,
and I pushed forward. Something was wrong, and I caught. She
shifted, I pressed, and I slid in. She arched her back more and
pushed back. I slipped in until her butt was resting on my legs.
I could feel all of her warmth grip all of my length. I slipped
the remaining lubrication from the foil onto the second and third
fingers of my right hand. I reached around her leg again to
finger her labia. I could reach the bottom of my shaft, and from
there I stroked the taut lips up to their juncture. I stroked
this tiny area repeatedly with my two greased fingers. I slipped
my left hand under her side to reach her again.
"I did have one other image on the road," I said. "I kept
picturing your perfect hips and thighs with my phallus
disappearing between them. I kept picturing your gluteal
flexings as you pushed your hips back at me."
The words, or the digital stroking, had their effect. She
did press back, inch forward, and arch herself back again. Her
nipple was hard, and the area around it was pebbly and hard. She
was breathing quite rapidly, and I was no better. I abandoned
any attempt at talk and moved my hips against her motion. I
worried about coming out. Then I worried about coming.
The phallic sensations were exquisite. While I slid within
her, she tightened on me. Then I hung at her entrance ring for a
moment before thrusting into her hips rolling toward me. That
drove the shaft through the tightly clutching ring, and the glans
along a slippery, less clutching tunnel. Then the clutches came
over the whole length. Her hip motion became erratic, and the
clutches became rhythmic. I could only grab her hipbone and hold
on. She moaned, and her tunnel squeezed me in earnest. I drove
into her and shook as my seed poured out. She was calling out.
"Bob? Bob. BOB! Oh. Oh. Ahhh.... Oh Bob."
Then she relaxed. Neither of us moved except for our
breathing. I was still in her and could feel an occasional
quiver, whether from her or from me, I couldn't tell. The sense
of 'one flesh' where we joined was both erotic and spiritual. I
was hoping that we could lie like this all night. I almost felt
disappointment when she turned in my arms.
Then she hugged me hard and kissed my chin. She found my
mouth with the next kiss, which was open-mouthed and wild.
Neither of us had really regained our breath, and we were
breathing into each other. Somewhere my mind considered
asphyxiation, but it wasn't an urgent worry. Dying with Jeanette
kissing me like that was as good as living another fifty years.
We did survive, however. I freed my arms enough to get them
around her. I rolled slightly so that she was mostly beside me
and a little on top. She broke the big kiss to give me lots of
little ones all over my face. Then we went back to a deep,
almost restful, kiss with just a little of her tongue on top of
mine. The taste was literally sweet.
"So that is what it means?" she said.
"That is what it means."
I suddenly remembered the plans for the locked, clean motel
room and smiled. My plans can gang agley like that as aft as
they please.
"I love you, Bob."
"I love you Jeanette. Since the first day I saw you."
The barrier we penetrated, there in the forest, was much
more important than a hymen.
THE END
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
1996/06/29
1996/10/09
1997/04/07
This is the second of a series of about the Brennans.
The next in the series is:
"Forecast"ast.txt
The first in the series is:
"Forever"ver.txt
The directory to the entire series is:
BrennaneStoriestDirectory
Another of a another couple's beginning can be found
at:
"WrappedpAttention"
The directory to all my can be found at:
IndexitoeUther Pendragon's Website