The Chronicles of Mark and Jennifer Ch. 15

Tina's story:

Kent and I had been hiking through the park at Clay's Ferry, down to the old locks, and it had been a pretty fun day, sunny and warm on Earth Day of 1972. We'd been down and walked out the old lock gates to the big pilings on the river, just sat there, shooting the shit, before we decided to head back to our apartment.

I loved Kent, with all my heart, but we had a festering problem. I don't know if my boyfriend really understood it, and he was trying to keep me happy. The problem: Kent is a great guy, a hard worker, but he's kind of a dud in bed. Oh, he tries, and he always gets me off using his hands and his tongue, but I never, ever orgasm from straight sex. Maybe that's not entirely Kent's fault, because no other guy has ever been able to do that for me, not that I've slept with that many other guys. Maybe it's because I just don't expect to get off that I never do.

We've been together for three years now, and what passes for sex is pretty monotonous: he goes down on me, eats me to an orgasm, then I give him head until he's hard enough, he climbs on top of me and fucks me until he cums . . . . which doesn't take him all that long. We used to try different positions and stuff like that, but have sort of given up. I used to give him blow jobs until he came, but I haven't been inspired enough to do that for a long time.

We'd done our usual Saturday morning playing around, so I wasn't horny earlier today, until we saw that couple a while ago. This cute girl with really long hair was sitting on her boyfriend's/ husband's/ whatever's lap, facing him and kissing, and it was obvious that she'd just barely gotten her t-shirt pulled back on when we'd come around the bend. I remembered what it was like to be that hungry for a guy, but it's been a long time, and my boyfriends were all so disappointing that that kind of passion just never seemed to ignite in me anymore.

Damn it, what that girl had, I wanted, a man who made her so hungry and passionate! She was giggling over not quite getting caught, and I could see a huge smile on her face when she glanced in my direction and our eyes met. Her boyfriend was obviously tall, decent-looking, and kind of raw-boned.

That girl was one lucky bitch! She was better-looking than he was, and pretty enough that she probably had her pick of guys. Her hair was pulled back in a pony, and it was still almost down to her waist. It was silky and shining, just slightly wavy, and hair like that leaves most guys drooling. My hair is just blah and mousy, I'm average-looking at best, and I'd never be able to get a guy like she had.

We were walking back up the trail, heading for the exit, when I heard a noise. I shushed Kent and we crept a bit further up the path, when I spotted them. That long-haired girl looked at her boyfriend, smiled, and then turned around and pulled her jeans right down to her knees! She knelt down on this fallen tree trunk, turned her head back and said something I couldn't quite make out to the tall guy, who pulled down his pants, moved up behind her, and pushed himself inside her with one steady motion.

Kent and I just stood there, mesmerized; this was like a porn movie in real life, right before our eyes. The guy was fucking her steady, and I could hear her gasping with each stroke. I couldn't help myself, and wound up snaking my hand down my blue gym shorts, where I was already soaking wet. A glance told me that Kent was getting a decent hard on spying this scene.

Then it got even hotter: the girl looked back over her shoulder, and said just one word to her boyfriend, and I was able to read it on her lips. She just said, "Harder," and, damn! her boyfriend grabbed her hips and started really slamming into her. She started gasping and crying, "Oh, my God! " over and over and over again, and then she screamed out "Yes!" as she came, came harder than I ever did myself. Her boyfriend grunted out something, then rammed it home and held himself hard inside her for maybe twenty seconds, and I knew that he had shot off in her pussy.

Well, that did it. I looked to my right, and saw another downed tree maybe thirty yards off the path, and I pulled Kent over to it. I was already on the edge, when I pulled my gym shorts and panties off with one motion, and told Kent to fuck me. I was just so fucking hot from watching that couple that I thought maybe this would be the time.

Oh, damn, it was! Kent was fully hard, not needing any help from me, and as soon as I knelt down on that tree trunk, Kent stuck it in me. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I was so hot and so ready that it happened, I came, my first orgasm ever from fucking, and I came harder than I ever have. Kent could tell, even though I had to use one hand to cover my mouth, so the other couple wouldn't know we were there, and he was inspired. Instead of shooting his wad into me, he just grabbed my hips, the way the other guy grabbed his girlfriend, and started slamming it home. I practically saw stars! Kent had gotten his rocks off earlier this morning, and he was lasting this time, lasting long enough that I felt another orgasm building up inside of me, hot and fast. I went over the edge fast, and when Kent saw me coming again, that was the end for him, too, and he unloaded deep inside me. We just plain collapsed on against the downed tree, and started laughing, even though I tried to keep the noise down. This was our best time ever. I don't know who those two were, but damn, I owe them big time!

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Mark's story:

Jen and I got back to my $400 car, an old, (sort of) white 1962 Ford Fairlane. It had a manual transmission, with a three-on-the-tree, which made shifting kind of difficult, because Jen scooted up next to me in the bench seat. But it was worth a bit of extra effort shifting to have Jen up so close.

"Mark," she began, "I've got to ask you something, and I'm not sure how to say it."

"Jen, you know you can always tell me anything, and you don't have to beat around the bush about it. I'll always love you."

"OK, well, it's like this: am I being too slutty? I mean, I can't believe I just did that!"

"Jennifer, good Lord, that was wonderful back there. It surprised the crap out of me, but it was absolutely wonderful."

"Well, Monica gave me the idea, and said that it'd be a great birthday present for you." Jen started giggling at that. "I kept thinking that no, I couldn't do that, but as soon as I saw that downed tree, what Monica had said would be a good prop, I couldn't get the idea out of my head. I wanted to do that, just so bad, once I got the idea, but I've moved so far away from what I was like just a few weeks ago, and I'm starting to get scared that I'm not going to be the wife you expected, or want. It's like, well the way Monica put it, the difference between making love and, well, you know."

"Jen, there's absolutely nothing wrong with a couple who love each other stepping back from making love to just plain 'eff.'" I knew what word Jen meant, but I'd never said it in front of her before, and I wasn't going to start now. "Last night, we made love, and this afternoon, we, well, you know, and both were wonderful. I just hope we're doing that in the woods fifty years from now."

"Mark!"

"Well, I do. Don't you?"

Jen said, "Yes," but kind of quietly.

"You remember," she continued, "that Friday morning after our first date, when we were having breakfast at the Student Center, and I told you that I had to go home for that weekend? Anyway, just a day, really not even a day, after our first date, I kind of slipped up and called you my boyfriend. I was just so nervous that I had messed up, and was going to push you away by moving too fast. We just continued on, like it was just the most natural thing in the world, but I was so relieved."

"I remember that, Jen, and you don't know how happy it made me. It actually took an effort on my part not to show it, because I was worried that if I looked too ecstatic over it, I'd seem kind of desperate."

"Well," Jennifer continued, "I was so worried about even that kind of baby-step then, and now here I am, just a couple of weeks later, kneeling down on a log in the woods and telling you to 'take me.' I mean, it was exciting and wonderful, but, good Lord in Heaven, Mark, I was never that girl before. I mean, it was great that I surprised you, but I'm surprising myself just as much."

"Well, love, this is an adventure we're on, and really, I don't know any more about what we're doing than you do, but I've never been happier in my life. Heck, we went from a first date to engaged in nine days, and, to me, everything has seemed right so far. We do seem to do things in a rush, don't we?"

"Oh, sure, yeah! All of my friends have been just flabbergasted over all of this, and I kind of am, too."

After that, we sort of settled down into small talk, and the occasional sweet nothings, along with the practical stuff like what we needed for supper. I just assumed that Jennifer was staying with me overnight, but I had work on Sunday, so she'd be back to the dorm tomorrow night. Then, it's one more week of regular classes, with finals the following week.

"Jen, you told me that your father insisted that you go to church on Sunday, and I guess that I have to ask: are you going to be comfortable going to Mass with me? It'll be a lot different than what you're accustomed to."

"I did kind of want to ask about that. My parents don't have any problem with you being Catholic, or at least they didn't seem to, but some of the other men in our church regard Catholics as practically devil worshippers. But I have no idea what a Catholic Mass is like."

"Well, it's a lot different than the services at your church, or at least the way services were held there last Sunday. We don't sing as much, and there are formal, ritualized responses. Easiest thing: when the priest says, 'Peace be with you,' the people respond in unison, 'And also with you.'

"There will be two readings by the deacon or Eucharistic minister, the first from the Old Testament, and the second from the New. Then the priest will read from one of the Gospels, before beginning his homily.

"Then the one thing to remember, when the priest leads the Pater Noster, the Our Father, we stop before the last line that Protestants have, the one which begins 'For thine is the kingdom.' It's actually pretty simple, now that we get to do things in English!"

"Am I going to set off gongs when I walk through the door?" Jen asked, only half jokingly.

"No more than I did at your church last Sunday."

"Tell me about Confession."

"Well, it's pretty straight forward. You go into the church, usually on a Saturday, and pray for openness and spiritual calm. Then you enter the Confessional, where the priest sits in another, screened off booth. A couple places now have open confessionals where you see the priest face-to-face. Heck, if you are a regular parishioner, the priest is going to know your voice, and know who you are anyway, so the screen seems a bit silly.

"Anyway, you are supposed to confess the sins you know you have committed, with a contrite heart, and resolve not to sin again, and then the priest absolves you of your sins. That's the big problem: I should confess to having made love with you, since we aren't married yet, but there's no way I could resolve, truthfully, to not make love with you again before we get married. And even after that, there's the whole birth control issue. I'm really pretty torn over this right now."

"It all sounds so complicated. Does your church require that a Catholic priest officiate when we get married?"

"No, but I'm supposed to get a dispensation from my parish priest if we're going to be married by a Protestant minister."

"I don't know," Jen said, "about all of this stuff. I just know that making love with you is so wonderful that it just can't be wrong." Then she kissed me, and kissed me again, and kissed me again. "I mean, I've been a good Christian girl for as far back as I can remember, and I know how the church frowns on premarital sex, but that Thursday, when I was planning on telling you that I loved you, it was my heart which told me to make love with you. I just love you so much." And then, more kisses.

That night was the first we had ever slept together without making love. Oh, we weren't mad at each other or anything, but we had already made love -- well, no, not made love, but just screwed like meercats in heat! -- and this was a calmer, peaceful end to the day. As usual, Jen was on my right side, her head on my shoulder, lightly playing with my chest hair, when we just drifted off to sleep.

Jennifer's story:

You know, it's really kind of weird that Mark wakes up, by himself, at 6:14 every morning. He had told me that was how things were with him, but that is just so strange. I mean, I set the alarm clock for myself every morning, and almost always awaken before it goes off, but the exact same time, every day? No way!

We hadn't made love last night, not that either one of us was desperately needing it, but it seemed so different to me. For all of my life, at least as far back as I can remember, I had slept alone in my bed. Then, once Mark and I had become lovers, every night with him was just so intense, so passionate, that I just couldn't not make love to him. Even last Tuesday, when I was on my period, and I had no intention at all of having sex, I couldn't help myself, I just had to make love with Mark, even if I knew we were going to be a bloody mess.

But, it's 6:14, and Mark is stirring, and he already looks ready, very ready, to make love to me. Just laying here, with my head on his chest, I have been getting slowly turned on.

I reached down, and just gently stroked his manhood, and even the light scratching of my fingernails made it jump. Mark made a sound that was like a cross between an "Mmmm" and a groan, when I brought my right hand up to my mouth, licked my fingers, and then rubbed the moisture on the head of his manhood.

Could I really call it his cock? I could think the word, because you can't control your thoughts, and that's what the girls in the dorm called them, but I don't know if I'm ready to say the word. Another lick of my fingertips, to moisten up the head of his cock, and Mark was fully awake, and I was so, so ready. I rose up and climbed on top of him again, and slowly sinking down on his manhood. It's just so amazing to feel him inside me; it's like he's more than inside my body, but inside my soul as well.

I really love being on top! When I'm making love to Mark, so very slowly, when I can see the passion and love in his eyes, and feel the roughness of his hands as he caresses my hips, it's just complete joy for me. This, for me, is the oddest combination of peaceful bliss and urgent longing. When Monica said there was a difference between making love and just plain, well, you know, this was making love. I could feel the heat building up inside me, so very quickly, but being able to look at my lover like this just channels all of my desire into making him happy.

I was in complete control, and was moving so very, very slowly. As much as the passion was building up inside of me, I wanted this moment to last forever. I was just barely moving, and sometimes I'd even stop, but even with that, the heat was rising in me so quickly that my climax washed over me in just seconds.

It's just so amazing to watch Mark like this! My hair was falling down both sides of my face, grazing his chest if I leaned forward enough, and his expression was one of complete giving and total love. My eyes close when I'm having my climax, but when I can open them again, all that I can see is Mark's wonderful smile; he's just so happy for me when the passion overtakes me, almost overwhelms me.

Oh, my God, it's building up inside me again, washing over me again! The look on Mark's face when this happens to me . . . .

Was I screaming? All that I could think was "Make love to me, Mark! Make love to me, Mark! Make love to me, Mark!" Was it in my head, or was I saying in out loud? Whichever it was, Mark understood my need, and I could feel his hands pushing me up and pulling me down, harder and faster. My hands fell to his chest, and I knew that I was digging my fingernails into him, when another orgasm took me, and shook me to my soul. I could feel Mark's passion, and just second later his eyes closed and his face contorted, as he released himself inside me.

I didn't remember getting off of Mark, but the next thing I knew I was laying back down on the bed, my head on his shoulder again, both happy for the morning and feeling almost exhausted. Then, the strangest thought crept into my head: somehow, I could see my mother, laying like this with her head on my father's shoulder. That should have been just creepy, just too completely weird, but somehow, it wasn't: I knew, I just knew, that my parents had been making love this morning. I remembered hearing them Friday week, after they had met Mark for the first time, and how my heart soared to know that my parents were still so much in love, and still made love, after twenty-six years of marriage. I knew then, I just knew, that this was the future for Mark and me.

Then Mark got out of bed; he just had to pee! Well, I did, too, but as he got up, my thoughts left the loving relationship my parents had, to the sad one which left Mark fatherless when he was just two years old. How did Jackie and, my gosh, I don't even know Mark's father's name, go from being happily married -- or so I supposed -- to him walking out the door? What was it that kept my parents happy and close, and split up the Stewarts?

When I told my parents that I wanted to stay in Lexington for the weekend, to be with Mark on his birthday, I had promised my dad that I'd go to church this morning. My mom and dad understood, and maybe they were more sympathetic because they still made love, but dad was clearly disturbed that his little girl was sleeping with her boyfriend, and he wanted to remind me of my obligation to the Lord.

Of course, I had planned on going to church with Mark, and a fresh change of clothing in my backpack. We showered and teased each other and had breakfast, taking our time, but we did have to leave the apartment by 8:40 in order to get to the Newman Center without rushing.

Oh, my gosh! I hadn't been bothering with a bra this weekend, because I don't need one -- I'm pretty small up top -- and Mark likes it, and thinks I'm sexy that way, but I didn't think to pack one with my church clothes! I mean, I had packed a sleeveless blouse, which isn't at all transparent, and some jeans which were still new and unfaded, but going to church braless? Oh, my! At home, I'd never go to church in anything other than a dress, so even the idea of wearing jeans was different to me, even though Mark had said that was fairly typical for a just-off-campus church for students, but braless was just totally alien to me.

Then Mark started teasing me about going to church braless, but I shut him up with a cold stare. Still, there was nothing I could do about it now; we didn't have time to swing by the dorm for me to get one.

The Newman Center was just so different from my church, or any of the churches back home. It was a modernist design, with architectural windows that were supposed to be reminiscent of stained glass, but the design left me cold. Our church at home, a poor, country church, was nothing but a white frame building, but I always knew that the Lord was present. Our preacher wore a simple business suit, and even that wasn't exactly high dollar. Here, the priest, a fairly young fellow, was wearing this plain white whatever-you-call-it robe, with some sort of off-white, embroidered thing over the top of it. I don't know what you call that either, but I guess that it's kind of like a knight's tabard. Something else I'll have to ask Mark about.