Martha in America Ch. 05

I had lunch with the other summer help, including a couple of attractive girls, but the images of Martha kept me from giving them any thoughts.

Then I was hurrying home, curious about what Martha might have planned, and wondering what I could suggest if she hadn't planned anything, and then wondering if she would be there when I arrived - and how?

When I opened the apartment door, she called: "Hi, I'm in the kitchen." But then when I had closed it and turned, she was coming towards me, all nude, holding her hands up. "I'm trying to make a meatloaf," she explained, holding out her greasy hands and then raising them above her shoulders as she came nearer. "Want a kiss?" she asked, holding her hands over my shoulders. Of course, I did, holding her to me like in the morning, again surprised at the contrast of feeling her naked in my hands while I was completely dressed, and she avoiding touching me with her hands. "Um-hmm," she approved as I kissed her more intensely, but then she murmured:

"We had better stop before I forget that my hands are all greasy."

"Um-hmm," I agreed with a snort and let go of her.

She smiled, still holding up her hands, and said:

"I bought some more beer, and when I've finished, it has to go in the oven. If we don't eat too much, there should be enough for tomorrow, too."

"Good idea," I agreed, and started to take off my tie.

"Um-hmm," she responded, and then went back towards the kitchen as I went to my room, finding my clothes from the library neatly hung up as I started to get undressed. While using the toilet, it occurred to me that maybe I should shave, but my razor was in her bathroom, so I didn't.

When I joined her in the kitchen, she looked at me approvingly and handed me a can of beer, taking her own, and I offered a skaal, and we drank. She still had to finish putting the meatloaf in the baking dish, and I remembered that I should call again.

This time my sister answered again, after a couple of more rings, making me think that they were out on the deck, and her "Hi, we thought it would be you," seemed to confirm that, especially when she continued:

"Things are fine here. Mom wants to talk to you. ... How's the job?"

But her last question was just to change the subject. Before I could really reply, my mother was on the phone, asking the same thing, but then saying that she hoped that I was remembering what my father had said. "Of course," I replied, realizing that they really were worried that we might be doing just what we had been doing, and wondering if my father had had any thoughts in that direction as my mother asked what the Norwegian surprise had been.

That was easy to answer, telling that it had been a salmon stew: "canned salmon," I added, thinking that it probably had been, and volunteered that Martha - pronouncing her name as my mother did - was making a meatloaf. "Oh," my mother replied, apparently surprised to hear how well she could cook:

"... that sounds nice. Just remember ..., and give her our greetings."

"I will," I agreed and added:

"Oh, and she asked me to give you hers, and love to Father ," and we hung up as it occurred to me that my last phrase could be misinterpreted: love to him from whom?

I returned to the kitchen and passed on my mother's greetings. Martha smiled and nodded. She was just putting the meatloaf in the oven, and then she looked back at the cookbook - my mother's "Joy of Cooking" - and set the timer. She glanced at me with little snort as she turned and washed her hands, and then turned back to me as she dried them and snorted again and said:

"I didn't plan that, but we have to wait for it to bake."

"Of course," I agreed, understanding what she meant as she picked up her beer can and held it up for a silent skaal.

We both drank and looked at each other again - not just at each other's eyes - and I suddenly wondered how far along we were in catching up on her forced celibacy.

"We've got lots of time," she said, and it sounded suggestive, even more so when she added: "I hope you're not too hungry."

"And what if I am?" I asked, and took another sip of beer.

Martha smirked and took a sip of hers, and then replied:

"I guess the cook would have to think of something else you could have until it's ready." "That sounds interesting," I responded: "... I think, maybe I am. What does she have to offer?"

Martha snickered, and I did too, and she grinned and replied:

"I don't know. What do you want?"

"Something simple," I replied, chuckling at the possibilities:

"... something that doesn't have to be cooked, ... that can be eaten raw, ... maybe like oysters."

I left the suggestion open with a smirk. Martha snickered again as she smirked back and then said:

"If I were hungry, I think I would like some fruit, maybe a banana, ... or maybe just some raw vegetable for a snack, ... maybe a carrot, ... yes, a nice fresh carrot."

"Oh," I replied: "... yes, they're nice, fresh and stiff, ... but you have to chew on them, so hard, crunchy. If I were you, I would prefer a banana. They're nice and firm, too, but you can enjoy them without having to chew them; just sucking on them tastes good."

Martha snickered again, and I saw her eyes drop down to my cock for an instant, feeling that it wasn't firm yet, but nice and bigger.

"Maybe you are right," she agreed, smiling as she took a sip of beer.

I took a sip of mine and then suggested:

"Oh, or we could just have another beer and chat, maybe play another game of backgammon, or Scrabble, ... or something ..."

"Hm-umm," she responded with a shake of her head: "... now you've gotten me hungry."

She smirked again, and I replied facetiously:

"Oh, I didn't want that to happen."

"But I did," she responded and finished her beer, and I finished mine as she put her can down on the table and came close to me.

"Um-hmm," she agreed as I put my arm around her shoulders and she slipped hers around my waist. "Um-hmm," I responded, aware that my cock was also already responding.

As we walked to her room, it occurred to me that we didn't need to wash the sheets on my bed, but then thought that we should, since my mother would notice if we didn't. But in her room, I noticed then that she had put fresh sheets on her bed, and had left it open.

"Um-hmm," Martha murmured and held me a little closer: "... if we're just going to sleep in my bed, I thought we deserved fresh sheets. You don't need to change yours."

"That's what I was thinking," I agreed, then wondering if she still had any rubbers.

As we turned to each other, her hand found my balls, now hanging free of my half erect cock.

She gently massaged them as I found her breast, both of us looking at each other with just slight smiles. She snorted softly and said:

"If you're not hungry, we don't have to; we could just take a nap."

"We could try," I agreed.

She gave me a quick smile and nodded and got into bed, and I followed her, putting my arm under her head as she settled on her side with her thigh on mine. "Um-hmm," she murmured, making herself comfortable with her head on my shoulder as I held her side.

We lay there in silence for a moment, and then I felt her hand exploring: sliding down on my pubic hair and then around my cock, that had relaxed a little, her fingers wandering over it and then finding my balls, all nice and heavy in my soft sack. "Um-hmm," I acknowledged softly as her fingers slipped under them, seeming to enjoy moving them and wandering into the folds between my sack and my thighs, scratching lightly down between my thighs.

"Hmmm," Martha hummed, obviously enjoying what her fingers were doing, and I was, too, liking that we just hadn't jumped in bed and started having sex. This was better; leaving it up to her to take the initiative if she wanted to, especially after she had suggested that we didn't have to, even though it had seemed so apparent that that was what we had in mind. If she wanted to, she knew she could; knew I wouldn't object; knew I would enjoy it, especially if she wanted to.

Her fingers rubbed the skin of my scrotum between them, and I wondered if she had done that with any or all of the boys she had slept with in Norway. Probably, I thought, remembering her telling about how she could move their foreskin. Yes, she hadn't just been letting them do it in the dark; she had enjoyed doing something like this with them. Or maybe she had been so interested in their nice foreskin that she hadn't played with their balls. No, unlikely. She had more experience than any of the girls I had slept with - except my Diotima, of course - except that she hadn't had oral sex before. Oh, and she had said that she had gone topless.

"Um-hmm," Martha hummed again as her fingers slipped around my balls again, holding them gently in her hand.

"I want to," she murmured and slid her head down onto my chest, and then moved her body so that she could slide it down onto my stomach. "Um-hmm," I agreed and felt her snort slightly as her fingers slid up and held my cock. Her head slid a little further, and her hand held my cock to her lips, letting me feel her kiss him, and then feel the tip of her tongue on him, reminding me that I hadn't washed, but that wasn't going to bother her, maybe even make her like it more - a little contrast - and then she had her lips around him as her head slid down lower, just holding him as her tongue explored on his little slit and then around it, and he grew stiffer, and she nodded with an "uhn-hnnn" that he felt as he moved a little deeper in her mouth, and she held him and let her tongue rub on the side of his head.

"Mmmm! Um-hmm," I had to respond; it felt so good, and my hand slid up her side and found her breast, found her aroused nipple. "Mmmm," she responded, vibrating on him with a slight nod, and then for a while, just her tongue and my fingers were moving, gently, appreciating that we were arousing each other, but as though she didn't want to arouse me more than I could her, but she had an enormous advantage - or I was at an enormous disadvantage: having to temper my arousal to what I could do for hers. But she seemed to understand; she just held him, letting her tongue move a little, her head relaxed on my stomach.

"Um-hmm, that's just right," I murmured and just held her breast in my palm, and she nodded slightly as her fingers slipped down and gathered up my loose-hanging balls, and then she was just nursing on him, like a child sucking its thumb, just a reflex as she breathed gently, and I relaxed too, just enjoying it as I wondered if any girls ever connected thumbsucking with what she was doing; if any psychologist had made the connection.

But my cock didn't relax, just became more accustomed to the slight movement of her tongue, enjoying it. But then as she just continued, as though she were almost dozing - thumbsucking is a pacifier - it did start to relax, and I was almost dozing, myself, in the familiar intimacy of our position: my hand cupped around her breast, and hers around my balls, my cock just pleasantly enjoying being in her warm mouth.

Then she stirred slightly, moving her head further down on my stomach, arousing me from my dozing as I also felt her suck on him, drawing him further into her mouth again. "Um-hmm," I acknowledged softly and then understood that he must have shrunken, that she had responded to feeling her "thumb" slipping away from her. Yes, he was completely unaroused, just aware of her tongue's slight movement without any erotic sensation.

I snorted slightly at this recognition, at the surprising recognition that this could happen, wondering if anyone could believe that a couple in this position - the way it started, both of us expecting and wanting to experience his orgasm - could be so relaxed about it that they both dozed off. But it was nice, somehow, the feeling that we were so familiar with each other that we didn't have to "just do it." Yes, real nice, that neither of us felt we had to please each other, and that it was mutual - the pleasing - she wanted to make it good for me, and I knew she wanted to enjoy it too: "the proof of my pleasure." That was sweet; somehow suggested that our relationship wasn't based entirely on giving each other sexual satisfaction.

I hummed softly, as I recognized that our position sort of belied the logic of my thoughts. I held my hand a little more closely around her breast and stroked her hair lightly with my other hand.

"Mmmm," she acknowledged almost inaudibly and moved her mouth on him a little more consciously, but only as though she were just a little more aware that she was peacefully sucking her thumb. And when I moved my fingers on her nipple, it remained soft. Yes, we were just being very intimate with no erotic arousal, and she continued to just hold him and loosely hold my balls.

I continued to stroke her hair, wondering how long we had been lying there, and then wondering if she would bite him if she were awakened by the ring of the kitchen timer.

That fear seemed a fair reason to rouse her gently, and my stroking her hair then did.

She sucked on him and her tongue moved a little more than before, and then after a moment she snorted softly, and her fingers moved my balls, and then she snorted again and really sucked on him, pressing her face down so she could suck more of him into her mouth, moving him a little with her tongue. And then she snorted again and slowly rolled her head back, letting him slip from her mouth as she rolled back towards me and smiled slightly and murmured:

"That's funny. I kind of forgot what I was doing. ... Sorry. ... I wanted it to take a long time, wanted to enjoy it for a long time, to let you enjoy it for a long time, and then it was just being so nice and relaxed, just enjoying lying here all relaxed ..., too relaxed to do anything. I'm sorry."

"Hm-umm, ... that's how I wanted it, too - relaxed - and then I relaxed - hm-hmm" - and then he did, and I was thinking that maybe you were just sucking your thumb ..."

Martha nodded with a smile, as I continued:

"... and thinking it was real nice," and then I explained the thoughts I had had.

"Oh, I like that!" she exclaimed and rolled over towards me and came up, lying half on me with her face over mine as she continued:

"That is nice. I just love you for that! ... Oh, ..." she added with serious look on her face:

"... I wasn't going to say that."

"I know, ... I might have."