Martha in America Ch. 02

"How did we get in my bed ... last night?"

Her surprising question broke the silence and expressed a thought that agreed with my own, one that I hadn't formulated yet, but she had.

"I'm not sure now," I replied: "... I was sort of thinking about that too, ..."

She turned her head and smiled at me briefly as I continued:

"... wondering ... knowing that we're going to, ... but as though ... now after dinner ... it was going to be the first time. ... Funny."

She smiled again, looking in my eyes and nodding and agreed:

"Me too. ... Funny. ... And before dinner we did it, ... and now it seems like a nice dream, distant, ... although we were sort of feeling like we were going to do it like ... rabbits."

"Bunnies," I corrected her with a snort. She grinned and repeated:

"like bunnies."

I smiled with little chuckled and asked:

"Is that what Norwegian bunnies do, too?"

She grinned again and nodded, and then answered:

"Oh yes, ... from before Easter, when they're laying and painting eggs right on till Midsummer Night."

She smiled mischievously and added:

"Especially in the week before Midsummer Night. That's next week."

I snorted with a smile as I put away the plate I was holding and hung up the dish towel while she quickly wiped around the sink. This wasn't so subtle any more, but it was nice that it had been, and that she had felt it too. Then we were facing each other again, both smiling a little questioningly, both not sure how we would start: there in the kitchen, going back to one of our rooms?

Whatever she may have thought my snort was about, she snorted, too, with a little chuckle, and then smiling at me, reached behind her hips and gathered up the back of her dress until she could pull her panties down over her hips. I returned her smile and started to unfasten my slacks, and she nodded as she stepped out of her panties, and watched me take off my slacks. And since she just stood waiting for me, underneath my shirttails I also slipped my underpants down and took them off.

"Um-hmm," she approved with a chuckle, looking in my eyes as she began to undo the buttons of her dress, and I started to unbutton my shirt, waiting for her to slip her shoulders out of her dress before I undid the bottom one. And then I wasn't looking in her eyes as it slipped off her shoulders and revealed her breasts and aroused nipples, and as she wiggled her hips as her hands pushed it past them, I took off my shirt.

She just let it drop, standing there unashamedly nude with it around her feet, blushing a little in her arousal or from the way my eyes were taking her in, her breasts and her pubic hair, that wasn't trying to hide her pussy. And she was looking at me the same way, and I knew he was enjoying it too. When our eyes met again, she smiled and said:

"Lilies of the valley," and we both chuckled as I looked down and ran my finger across the top of my pubic hair.

"Um-hmm," she agreed with another chuckle, and then with another one, she stepped out of her dress and said:

"Maybe I could get a couple to stand up, sticking them in at the sides, and I watched her finger show where she meant and felt it gently slide down my hair on one and then the other side of him. Then she murmured: "I think I could put in lots of little blue forget-me-nots."

She didn't look up at me, as I envisioned the little flowers nestled in my pubic hair, then registering the possible significance of their name. She was looking at him intensely and murmured:

"And they cut off all that loose skin? That isn't nice. ... Oh, sorry."

She glanced up at me: "... but it's so nice. You can play with it, pull it all down over the end, ... " and she unselfconsciously took him in her hand: "... and when it's still small, you can gather it up over the end in a bunch of funny, fine wrinkles."

She looked up at me again with mild smile and explained:

Some of them are parallel, and it reminds me of a miniature glacier, when you look down from the mountains and see the lines of its flow."

I nodded, recognizing at least her simile, and she just held him familiarly, now less aroused than before, as she murmured:

"Some have more than others, completely covering the end ... when it's small, ... not afterwards."

She smirked and then continued as though she were talking about something that had nothing to do with sex:

"And on some it doesn't. ... Hm-hmm! But if they've been swimming in cold water - like the first one - it's really small, like a baby's, like in paintings: cupids, and little Jesus."

She glanced at me with a snort:

"But they really shouldn't have shown him that way." I nodded with a smile and chuckle and agreed:

"Like Michelangelo's David."

She nodded and returned my smile. Her fingers gently held him, turning his head into her palm and gently squeezing him, drawing the skin up from my balls a little as she looked at me as though she wasn't aware that she was holding him.

"Sort of like girls' nipples," I suggested: "... some are real small, just a dimple, even if maybe the pink area is quite large, and others are big with almost no pink area - neither very attractive - and then there yours, just perfect."

I ran my finger around one, and she snorted as she watched, watched it stand out, and then snorted softly in a reflex to the sensation, and then her fingers seemed to remember what they were holding as she nodded and said:

"I guess you do have a lot of experience. How many was it?" I held her breast and rubbed my thumb over her nipple as I replied: "With you, eight." She chuckled and squeezed him and said:

"And with you, seven," and snorted and added:

"That's not so bad, considering that I'm younger."

"Or not so good ..." I suggested.

She gave me a wry smile and agreed:

"Well, maybe I shouldn't have with a couple - could have ... forewent them ..."

"'Foregone them'," I corrected.

She nodded and repeated: "... foregone them, ..." and she grinned: "... but you only know afterwards."

I nodded and grinned too, as my other hand found her other breast, and agreed:

"I should have, too, ... but it's still kind of fun finding out, better than wondering ..."

"Um-hmm," she nodded, and her fingers were doing nice things to him, and she smiled when he moved in her fingers, and they slipped around him as she murmured:

"Like if I had listened to my mother. I sure wouldn't have wanted to have foregone last night."

"Or this morning, or before dinner," I agreed.

She looked like she was about to kiss me, but said:

"And I wouldn't have even known what I should have been wondering about, what I would have missed."

"We're not going to miss anything," I murmured as our lips met.

At first, I was wondering which bed we wanted to use, but then remembered the rubbers in my slacks, so when she asked the same question, I murmured:

"Here. They're still in my pocket ... from last night."

She chuckled and nodded, and we moved till I could take my slacks from the chair, holding them behind her back so I could use my other hand to get them and then open the packet and get one out and unwrap it as we continued kissing, now wondering if we wanted to do it on the chair or on the table, deciding on the latter so that I could eat her sweet pussy again while I put it on. When I picked her up and put her on the table, Martha whispered:

"Oh? Like this?"

"Umm-hmm," I replied as I dropped to my knees.

She opened her thighs and drew them up as she said: "Oh, yes," supporting herself with her hands as she rocked her hips up, and then chuckled as she watched me - not just chuckling as she felt what my tongue was doing. And then I had it on and stood up, and she snorted when she saw him in the rubber and then watched as I guided him into her, chuckling again as our eyes met briefly, but then she was watching him again, sighing with a deep "uhmmm!" Then we were looking in each other's eyes as I held her legs.

"Hmm! ... I watched him once ... in the mountains ... like this ... on a rock. Hmm, then I was worried if anyone would wonder about the scratches on my bottom."

We both chuckled, but we weren't in the mood for humor or distraction. She watched me suck her breasts. And then she lay back, and I followed her as she locked her feet behind my ass, clutching me with her strong thighs, and then holding my ass as it moved, encouraging it, as I held her shoulders up and leaned further over her as she nodded. I had my arms under her shoulders and supported her head with my hands as we kissed, her tongue moving as eagerly in my mouth as he was moving in her pussy.

And then her pussy was clutching him as her hips rocked up to meet his thrusts as she panted and then gave up at kissing me, just gasping with her aroused "oh, oh, oh, ... oh-oh, ..." and then she was coming, all over my balls and dripping on the tile floor as her thighs quivered against my waist as I came in the pulsing clutch of her pussy.

She sighed with a deep moan and relaxed, her head heavy in my hands as her thighs relaxed. I held still, looking at her flushed face and closed eyes. "Uhn-hnn," she sighed softly a couple of times, and then her eyes opened, and she smiled mildly at me and then held my head between her hands and drew it down and gave me a kiss.

"My mother was right," she murmured: "... and she had no idea how good you do it."

I understood immediately what she meant, and nodded and replied:

"I know ..." and then scowled as I realized that that could be misunderstood:

"I didn't mean that: that your mother was right. Thank you. ... And she has no idea how good you do it. Thank you."

She smiled with a little snort of understanding, and he slipped out of her, and she snorted again with smile. I started again:

"I know, someone once said: 'You just have to love someone a little when it's that good' ... 'making love'. The expression says it."

She nodded with another mild smile and agreed:

"It sure does."

And then she grinned and asked:

"Which one was that? The older one?"

I liked that we had agreed about that, and liked that she had changed the subject, as though we had settled it.

"Hm-umm," I replied: "... she was only eighteen, 'the proof of his pleasure' one."

She snorted under me with a brief smile and stroked my cheeks as she replied: "She must have been very ... clever. ... That's not quite the right word."

I nodded, not being able to think of a better one. Martha smiled again and said:

"She was right, ...both times. ... I know: 'astute'. That's better than 'clever'."

I nodded, impressed with her vocabulary as she continued: "And that was good: 'the proof of his pleasure'. I liked that," and she grinned again: "... and you did too."

I nodded and returned her grin, and then stood up and helped her sit up. She looked down at him with a snort and then reached down and slipped the rubber off, holding it up with a smile, and repeating: "the proof of your pleasure."

I nodded, and almost expected her to do what my sister had done, but she didn't, only swung it a little with a smirk, and then said:

"I have to go, anyway," and slipped off the table as I nodded.

As she left, she glanced back with another smirk, swinging the rubber in a full circle as though it were a trophy, and then disappeared as I smiled to myself.