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Martha in America Ch. 01

By: leBonhomme



I love Martha, not just as the first person character in this sequel to the story about my birthday present for my sister, but also as an author. Sure, I created her, but her personality evolved during the writing to my liking better than that of some other characters. I have returned to her as the main character in two other series, which may eventually be submitted, which is why this is titled "Martha in America." I expect the other series will be titled "Martha as a Student in Oslo" and "Martha as a Writer, sometimes of erotic Stories." 

One tends to assume that only families with small children have an au pair. That is how it started in "my" family in the story, but our parents continued to invite European girls to help in the house after we children were older. This story happens the week following my week on Fire Island with my younger sister, which was my "Birthday Present for my Sister". It is also the first week of my summer job in the City, the beginning of my story "Sandy," although her name is not yet mentioned. Eventually it may have have several more chapters.




After an early supper with my family on Fire Island, I drove home, wondering if my father's stern look when we parted had anything to do with Martha, the Norwegian au pair who had stayed with us all winter. I recalled that she had pronounced her name "Marta" when she had introduced herself. My mother had immediately called her "Martha," so the rest of the family had used the English pronunciation, including me, although I had thought it would have been more appropriate forus to have used her pronunciation, but Mother set the standard for the family. She wasn't really pretty, but attractive, fair skinned with reddish-blond hair. Since I had a room at Columbia, I had only seen her occasionally on weekends and hardly spoken to her. 

Then I was home, and no one was there, just a note from her: "Hallo, I shall be back after the movie. Martha" That was nice, but it felt unusual to be at home with no one else there.

I unpacked, and then looked in the fridge hoping to find a beer, and did, wondering a little that it was a six-pack of cans instead of the bottled beer that our family bought. The Sunday New York Times was lying around. I remembered to call my parents and tell them I had gotten home safely. Then I read the paper and sipped my beer - and dozed. And then woke up and repeated the pattern a couple of times finishing my beer. And then, I guess, I really fell asleep.

Her key in the door awakened me, and I tried to look alert, as though I had been reading, when she stuck her head through the door and said: 

"Hi, there you are. Did you see my note?" 

"Yes, thanks," I replied, and then she went to her room in the back of our large apartment, and I returned to reading.

After a few minutes, I heard her in the kitchen, and then heard her call: 

"Did you drink one of my beers?"

Oh! That explained the cans, I thought, embarrassed. 

"That's all right," she added before I could reply, but then did: 

"Sorry, I wondered about the cans." 

"That's all right," she repeated, her slight Norwegian accent still evident. 

"Want another one?" she asked.

This was an entirely new impression of her - what little of one, I had. Of course, she could drink beer, but till now it had never occurred to me that she did - or that she would buy herself a six-pack. But why not?

"Yes, thank you. Please," I replied. 

I heard the refrigerator door close, and a moment later she appeared in the doorway - in a long cotton nightgown - much to my surprise, but it was certainly modest enough, just very surprising to see her there in it. She paused at the door and asked:  

"May I join you?" 

"Of course, Martha," I replied, pronouncing her name as she had, and laid my paper aside and then was little surprised at my own formality as I stood up. She must have noticed it too, responding with a soft "oh" as she entered the room and then handed me one of the cans as she remarked: 

"Nice, that you said my name like I do, ... like in Norway, though I've got accustomed to the English pronunciation."

We both opened our cans, now smiling a little at the contradiction between the formality of my having stood up and drinking out the cans, and then she looked up at me and said. "Skaal." 

"Cheers," I replied, surprised at her saying the first toast, and we drank, as it occurred to me that maybe that was appropriate, since it was her beer.

Since I had been so formal as to stand up, I realized that I would have to make a gesture that we could sit down, feeling a little surprised at myself again as my hand did so. She moved to the neighboring chair, and then we sat down together, and both had another sip.

I said the first thing that came to mind: 

"Is that what all girls in Norway wear?" 

Immediately, it occurred to me that I could have asked her what movie she had seen, but she looked down at her nightgown and then up at me and answered: 

"In bed. A lot of them, ... I think, ... most of the time." 

I thought she smiled slightly as I wondered what movie she had seen and what she would have replied to a question about that, and was not at all expecting her question in return: "What do American girls wear?" 

"Pajamas," I replied, a little flustered: "... at least my sister does, ... I think." 

She nodded with a smile and had another sip, and I did too as she asked: 

"And the others?" 

"I don't know," I answered, and then immediately recognized that her question could have suggested that I should know from my own experience. From that: nothing; did Norwegian girls wear long nightgowns when they slept with a guy? 

She just nodded again and smiled, as I wondered if she or I had gotten us on this subject, and then thought: at least she had pursued it further - how intentionally? Had her nipples stiffened at something one of us had said? It didn't seem like they were now. But she had nice, high breasts. 

She took a long sip from her can and then looked straight at me and said: 

"Oh, I would have thought you knew," and smiled. 

And this time her nipples definitely did stand out! Yes, we were talking about that! 

I took an equally long sip, hoping a witty reply would occur to me, but then only answered: "I never asked them." 

When she smiled, maybe having made the correct assumption, I asked: 

"Did anyone ever ask you?" 

I liked that, and that she grinned with a shake of her head, and then nodded and replied: 

"No, I guess not." 

She smiled again and took another sip of her beer. I did too, just a small one, not to empty my can in the middle of this interesting conversation. Where did she think it would lead? 

She looked at her watch and then glanced at the TV, that faced the sofa, and asked: 

"Do you want to watch the news before we go to bed?" 

"Sure," I agreed, wondering if she had really emphasized the last part of her question or if it had just been her accent or unfamiliarity with nuances of English - or had I just wanted to hear her emphasize it: "... we go to bed"?

When I got up to turn on the TV, she moved to the sofa. After I found the channel, I turned back to sit down on the sofa with her - had she planned that? - and saw that she was sitting in the middle of it, not too far away from me regardless of where I chose to sit. And she was finishing her beer, and then she waited for me to sit down. After I had, she offered: 

"Want another beer? I do." 

I wasn't going to refuse at this point, and agreed: 

"Yeah, thanks. I'll buy some tomorrow." 

She was already getting up to go get them, holding out her hand for my can. I waited for the news to start, and waited for her to return. Would she want me to have my arm on the back of the sofa, suggesting that she sit under it? If she didn't want that, she could have sat down at the other end of the sofa, and still could. But I hoped she wouldn't, and moved slightly closer to where she had been sitting with my arms resting on the back of the sofa. Either she would ... or she wouldn't ... I heard her open the cans in the kitchen.

She came back with two cans, and I suddenly thought: Either she will offer me my can first, and then sit down further away from me; or she will sit down where she had been before so that she can hand me mine. She did the latter, maybe even sitting slightly closer to me than before. Then she turned to me -even a little closer - and handed me the can in her far hand - that she was holding so that I couldn't avoid touching her fingers as I reached across and took it. She shifted her can to that hand, still turned to me, and said "skaal" again as she looked in my eyes, and then we drank.

I looked back at the TV, but felt her looking at me, and she nudged me with her elbow. I looked back at her, and she said: 

"When someone says 'skaal" to you - or you do - you have to look in her eyes and say 'skaal,' and then drink and then look back in her eyes." 

She looked quite serious after this lesson in Scandinavian etiquette. 

"Sorry," I replied: "... let's try it again." 

She looked pleased and nodded, holding up her can as she looked in my eyes, and I held mine up as I looked in hers and said "skaal," and she nodded slightly in recognition as she then said it, and we drank, and then looked in each other's eyes again, and she nodded with a slight smile and then said: 

"Yes, that was right." 

Then she turned to the TV, settling herself even closer to me as she murmured: 

"You've got nice eyes."

She did too, I thought, wondering if it was the light from the TV that gave them the color of violets, or irises, yes, more like irises, and I suddenly decided that it couldn't have been a brown-eyed person that named the colored portion of the human eye its "iris". 

That was an intriguing idea, but then we were watching the news, and sipping at our beers, and when a scene of violence in Vietnam was shown, she started, and my hand unconsciously held her shoulder. "Um-hmm," she acknowledged softly and settled herself a little closer to me under my arm. 

It had only been reflexes on both our parts, but the scene on TV had been a catalyst for a physical contact that neither of us objected to. Of course, I thought of my sister - and of Sukie and Pam that first evening [two girls in a story that has not yet been submitted] - but only for an instant as Martha relaxed with her shoulder touching me, and my hand held her a little more consciously. I didn't dare turn my head to look at her, just noticed that she took another sip of her beer, and took one, myself, wondering, thinking: she certainly didn't have to sit closer to me, nor change to her nightgown before joining me in the living room, and we had talked about that already; she had almost asked me if I had seen girls in whatever they wore in bed. Did she want me to see her in her bed?! What was she thinking? My hand moved her shoulder.

"Um-hmm," she murmured almost inaudibly. 

Did she really want to do it, I wondered: was she expecting me to let my hand slide down and find her breast - pull it down, herself, like my sister had? It wanted to, and my cock was beginning to think about it. Did she want to? I felt rather than saw her glance over at me.

"Um-hmm," she murmured again, as though in answer to my questions. I needed another drink of beer - and if we were going to, we needed to finish them, even if my cock was torn between two alternatives at the moment with my drinking a third beer.

Ignoring the news, I held up my can and offered a "skaal." She turned towards me, her leg touching mine as she looked at me, looked in my eyes, and also said "skaal." Although I was looking in her eyes as we raised our cans to drink, I could see that her nipples were aroused. And then we looked in each other eyes again, and when my hand held her a little closer, her eyes didn't leave mine as her tongue moistened her lips. When mine did the same as I drew her even closer, she drew her other thigh up over the one pressing against my leg, turning towards me. We continued to look in each other's eyes for a moment longer as our hands moved our cans out of the way, as our faces moved closer and tilted slightly - just the suggestion that we both wanted to - and kissed.

Nice soft lips pressed against mine, and then our tongues touching, just tentatively at first, but as her hand - with her beer can still in it - came up around my neck, and my hand slid around her side, there was nothing tentative about the way our tongues moved, and we held each other closer, her breasts pressing against my chest as we embraced each other. 

But we had to get rid of our beer cans; I wanted to hold her with my hand, wanted to hold her breast, but for a few moments more we kissed, until she murmured: 

"Maybe we should finish our beers." 

We did in the flickering light from an advertisement on the TV, both of us just pouring them back, more than we would have normally drunk in one swig.

As we set our cans down, she burped, and then turned to me looking a little sheepish as she said: 

"It was my idea." 

Then we were kissing again, and I drew her onto my lap, feeling that she didn't have any panties on under her nightgown, and then my hand slid up to her breast, and she pressed it into my hand, firm - like my sister's, but not as large as hers - and her nipple was all stiff as I rubbed it through her nightgown as we kissed again, and she wasn't doing anything to discourage me - on the contrary. I slid my hand up and undid a button of her nightgown, and she nodded slightly. Thus encouraged, I unbuttoned the rest of them and slipped my hand inside it and found her breast again, and she liked that. There didn't seem to be any question now about whether we were going to go further; she wouldn't have let me go so far with just the two of us alone if she didn't want to; just the question of how we were going to get from the living room to - where, my room or hers? and who was going to initiate the move. Did she expect me to, expect me to pick her up and carry her to one of our beds?

But then she took her tongue out of my mouth and murmured: 

"I have to go, ... you know ..." 

"Me too," I agreed," thinking it was going to be a little difficult to make him do that. 

She snorted softly and then gave me a kiss and got up. She started to leave as I got up, and then turned, looking at me in her open nightgown, and said: 

"I'll be in my room," and turned to go without waiting for a response.

Well, that settle that, I thought as I turned off the TV and then the lights, snorting to myself as I wondered if all Norwegian girls were that direct. Lucky guys, then, I thought as I hurried to my bathroom, opening my pants on the way, then going in the washbasin. Was she washing her pussy, I wondered as I quickly washed my cock. Then I got a packet of rubbers, thankful that my sister had insisted that I replenish my supply, and was on the way to her room, a guest room with an old-fashioned double bed. Had she considered that her bed was bigger than my single one?

She was standing waiting for me in her almost darkened room. She had lit a candle on the bed table - I could still smell the match - still in her nightgown, but she had opened her bed. Had she maybe not been sure I would come? 

Then I realized that I still had the rubbers in my hand and put them in my pocket, and was a little embarrassed when I saw that she had noticed them. But she only snickered softly as her eyes returned to my face, and she smiled and whispered: "I have some too.

That broke the ice, and we embraced and kissed again, and then her hands were undressing me, unbuttoning my shirt, as my hands found her breasts again while we kissed, pushing it off my shoulders, and for a moment, I let go of her and let it slip off my arms, and then my hands were around her as we embraced, and I felt her hands on my naked back. I began to gather up her nightgown with my fingers, and she nodded slightly, and then I felt her fingers find the button of my slacks, and the zipper - obviously with some experience. She snorted slightly at feeling my cock stiff inside it, and then she slipped my slacks over my hips and found the top of my shorts. As I gathered up more of her nightgown, her fingers moved knowingly to help the elastic slip down past him, but without touching him as they pushed my underpants down past my hips. But then he was touching her, pressed between our bodies as she raised her arms and let me take her nightgown off.

And then her firm breasts were also touching me as our bare arms slid around the other's naked body. She snickered softly and murmured with her lips touching mine: 

"Dette skal ..." and then she started again in English: 

"This is going to be one of the times I don't wear it."

I nodded as we kissed again and our hands moved, hers exploring as eagerly as mine, from my neck and shoulder down to my ass, holding us together as she moved her hips a little to roll him between us, making him surge. "Um-hmm," she acknowledged as she sucked on my tongue.

I agreed with a slight nod as I thought: Oh yes, she knows what she wants, knows what she has been wanting, has been missing. All year, since she left Norway? How did Norwegian boys do it? How, what did she like? I shuffled to step out of my loafers and pants, and she took a step back towards the bed. I let go of her and she took another step as I looked at her in the candlelight, and she stood there and let me look as she looked at me. In the dim light, as I raised a foot to take off my sock, and then the other one I could hardly see her pubic hair. 

Then she reached out and took my hand and drew it to her breast, and my other hand found her other breast, my thumbs rubbing her pale, stiff nipples as she rested her arms on my shoulders, just looking at me. Then she smiled and said: 

"Min mor ... I mean: My mother told me not to do with the 'young gentleman'." 

I was surprised that her mother would have assumed that she might, that she accepted that she would do it all, and that she would be so direct about saying anything. I returned her smile as I fondled her breasts and said: 

"And I think the look from my father when we parted meant about the same thing." 

She snorted with a brief grin and moved her fingers on my back and replied: 

"So that makes it all right, ... since both think we shouldn't."

I hadn't expect this open discussion of morals, well, it seemed more about just breaking specific parental instructions not to do it with each other. No, she didn't seem to have any moral feelings about it at all - and nor did her mother, apparently. 

I smiled with a nod and agreed: 

"Um-hmm, ... if that 'makes it all right.'" 

Then we were kissing again, she hugging me around my neck while I still fondled her breasts, and then I moved my head down and raised one of them, and she loosened her arms and let me stoop and kiss it, sighing as I sucked on her nipple as my hand slid down to her ass. And then I wanted to kiss her pussy and started to kneel down, holding her ass with both hands as my lips slid down her body, and then they were on her hair, the softest, finest pubic hair, and a little moist still as I moved my lips on it - she had washed - and then held her firm bottom as I pressed my mouth against the firm curve of her pussy and pressed it further down and in between her thighs.

"Oh!" she murmured softly in surprise: "... you want to?" 

I nodded as my lips felt the start of hers - starting a little higher than my sister's. 

"Oh," she murmured again as though it was a new idea for her, or maybe just a new experience, but she didn't object, and when she felt my tongue on her, I heard her moan softly - not an aroused moan, just a pleased sounding, appreciative little one - and then she rocked her pelvis up, pressing it to my mouth, and my tongue could venture further and found her swollen clitoris, and this time her moan was an aroused "Unnn!" And then I felt her hands holding my head to her as my tongue moved on it. And it tasted so good, her slippery pussy tasted so good, and she was enjoying it, her thighs opening as she pressed my face against her.


Martha in America Ch. 01



"You want to?" she asked softly: "... like that?" 

I nodded and rubbed it, and she responded again with gasp and jerk of her pelvis. 

"You like it?" she murmured, and I nodded again, and then she asked: "And you?" 

I looked up at her, and she, down at me in the candlelight, that now seemed brighter after having had my eyes closed, and replied: 

"I can wait." 

A slight smile passed over her lips as she nodded slightly and rubbed her fingers a little in my hair and then replied: 

"If you want to." 

I nodded again and whispered: 

"Sit down, lie back," and then followed her on my knees as she did so with her hands still on my head and opened her thighs.

And then my face was back on her pussy, and she was giving herself up to the sensations, moaning and sighing and letting her hips move against my tongue. Then she murmured: "But I want to really do it then." 

The way she said suggested that she didn't want to do it to me, which didn't surprise me if this was the first time anyone did it to her. I nodded, and then as she was becoming even more aroused, after a gasp she asked: 

"You want to ... all the way?" 

I nodded again and hummed a strong "um-hmm" on her pussy, and then it seemed as though she had been holding back her arousal until this confirmation, and she seemed to cast off any restraint, drawing her feet up on my back and rocking her hips up to my mouth, offering me her pussy, and I wanted it, my tongue as deep in her as it could be, searching for her sweet pussy juice. And if she had been holding back, I thought, she must know what could happen if she let me go "all the way." That was the only thing I wanted, to make her come, to make her give it to me. 

Whatever she thought was going to happen, she wanted it as much as I did, and gasped "Really?" before she moaned again. 

"Uhn-hnnn" I replied in her pussy, and then she did, moaning and gasping with aroused little "Ohs". Again and again: 

"Oh!, Oh! ... Oh-oh! ... Oh, oh, oh! ..." as her thighs quivered and clutched my head as she came in my mouth - all sweet, like I wanted it, like I wanted it for her!

Suddenly I was aware that she had stopped holding my head at sometime, but she was still wanting it, and me too - all she could give me, all I could give her - and then she gave a great sigh and murmured: "Oh, gude Gud!," and was still, her feet sliding down off my back.

I raised my head and saw her hands resting on her breasts as her stomach rose with a deep breath and then sank again as she sighed. Yes, I thought: when she knew she could come - that I wanted her to - she had wanted to help any way she could. 

She looked lovely in the candlelight. A girl who has just had an orgasm always looks lovely - of course, she has been loved. How could she look anything but lovely?!

After a few more deep sighs - her stomach rising and falling before my eyes - her hands slid down and found my face, her fingers stroking my wet cheeks gently. She chuckled softly, and then her hands held me more firmly, drawing my head up as she murmured: 

"Kom og ... Come, lie with me," 

I rose up, helping her to move her legs down the bed, thinking suddenly how familiar and unarousing it was to touch her now after we had done it. And then I was lying beside her, holding her, and she had her arm around me. "Mmmm," she sighed softly, and then for a while we were still, almost dozing.

"Mmmm," she sighed again and held me a little closer and then raised her knees, inviting me slide mine under and between hers. "Umm-hmm, she acknowledge softly, and then we lay like that for a few moments.

Then she chuckled brightly and said: 

"I was thinking in Norwegian. I guess you noticed. I knew I was here, but ... I never -" and she snickered: "... had sex 'in English'." 

She snickered again, and I chuckled with her, and then she added: 

"and not that way. That surprised me, that you really wanted to do it. I knew it would feel good, but ..." and she thought for a moment: 

"... 'vell', ... I thought men did it 'cause the girl wanted it, but then wanted to really do it, ... you know, that he would want to, ... and not just let her ..., not that he would really like it." 

She smiled in the shadow of my head from the candle, and then kissed me and added: 

"But you did, and it was good, real good. I guess you know. Thank you." 

She kissed me again.

She was just delightful, I thought as we lay there in silence: so open and direct in an innocent way - although she obviously had experience, enough to have wanted and taken it for granted that we would do it, but not so much that she had known that. And, I recalled, she had implied that she didn't want to. But she must have slept with a few boys, but only back in Norway - "never had sex 'in English'." That was sweet, and a pity, I thought.

"Um-hmm, and thank you too," I agreed and then added: 

"Pity about not having done it 'in English'. My good luck. But all year ...?" 

She giggled and replied: 

"Not quite. Once at the Norwegian Seamen's Mission I met a junior office ..." 

She chuckled, as I wondered where they could have done it, and then she added: 

"He could take me to his cabin, but not for too long."

She chuckled again at this, and I did too, as I wondered if he would have done that with her, if they had had more time, as she added: 

"If I could have had a reason to be out for a whole night, we could have gone to a hotel. ... But it was better than nothing." 

"And maybe we can make up for it a little," I responded, almost before I knew what I was saying. 

"Oh, that would be nice," she agreed immediately, and I thought so too.

That seemed to have brought us back to where we were; her hand started to slide down over the corner of my hip, then hesitated as she looked at me questioningly. 

"Um-hmm," I encouraged her with a nod. 

She smiled mischievously and let her hand slide further, finding him, her fingers slipping around him and then moving him as she softly said: 

"Oh, it's all ... floppy," pausing till she had found the word.

Her fingers demonstrated that he was as I thought again that she had done that before - but maybe not found it "floppy". Then her fingers explored, holding him again, and she murmured to herself: 

"Oh, yes, ... of course," and I thought that all the boys in Norway must be uncircumcised., and of course she knew I was Jewish. 

"Different," she murmured with a slight snort.

I nodded, and she glance up at me with an understanding smile - one that confirmed that we both understood what she meant. 

"Not like the Norwegians'," I ventured to suggest. 

She snorted again with a shake of her head as her fingers moved, and I asked more boldly: "How many?" "Six," she replied immediately, and then seemed abashed at her immediate response and added: "Oh, ..." and glanced up at me as she explained: 

"I used to count them at night." 

I chuckled, and then she snickered, and then giggled at this admission and said: 

"I almost forgot one, ... but none like you, like yours, ... or like that." 

We both snickered again as I wondered if my question had been too indiscreet, but, from her response, it didn't seem like it, and I wondered again how the attitude towards sex in Norway seemed to be so much more liberal - her mother's remark.

"That's better," she said as he became less floppy, and then - to my surprise - repeated: 

" 'or like that.' ... Or should it be: 'nor like that'? 'None like yours, nor like that'?"

Again I was surprised at this question of grammar, but answered in a reflex: "Neither, nor."

"Oh, of course," she agreed as her fingers moved on him as she took up the subject again: 

"'or like that.' Of course not, with the first one - the first time for both of us, but I liked him more than some of the others - and then with another ... Hm-hmm! I think it was his first time - our first time; and then once after a party - I hardly knew him, the one I forgot. ... Why am I telling you this?" 

"To count the six." 

"Hm-hmm! ... Even my girlfriend doesn't know. Good thing: she liked one of them. I didn't know if I was proud or shocked when I first counted them all up." 

"Satisfied, I hope," I interjected. She snorted, and then snorted again and said: 

"You mean, like that?" and moved her hand on him suggestively. 

"Yeah, I guess," I agreed, chuckling: "though I really was thinking about how it had been with them." 

"Oh? ...", she replied and looked at me, and then after a moment it seemed that she decided to tell: 

"... Oh: the first time, it was very arousing, but not satisfying; but I didn't know what to expect, so it didn't matter, and we got better at it. And the second one, of course, didn't do it very well either ... - Hmm! - ... but we ... 'practiced,' ... and I thought it was good enough. But the next one - not the one I forgot - ... was older, the school skiing champion, and we all knew he had lots of experience, and I knew it would probably only be once with him, but he made up for that, and then I knew what I had been missing. So the next one, ... well, that was worth forgetting; and then the last two ... were - well - pretty good, but could have been better. I wanted to tell them, but didn't, and then they were already doing it, you know." 

She paused, smiling a little wryly. I nodded, and then she continued: 

"Maybe that's why I was so surprised that you didn't." She looked at me and then added: "You must have lots of experience."

"I was lucky, ... my first time was with someone who did. Yes, I was real lucky, and hope I passed on a little of it." 

She nodded and then snickered and asked: 

"Like to me?"

"Um-hmm, ... and to talk about it." 

"Like we are? Oh, I'll talk to the next one! Hm-hmm! And maybe tell him to do that, too." 

She grinned at me and squeezed him, and then snorted: 

"It's all floppy again. ... Are we going to talk all night?" 

"If you want to. We've got all week," 

"If you want to," she replied with a grin. I nodded and returned her grin.

She let go of him and reached up and hugged me with a kiss, one that became better, and she felt him, and then found him again with her hand, and I thought we were going to do it then, and recalled that my rubbers were in my pants on the floor, but then she asked softly: 

"And did she do it to you too? Like you did?" 

"Um-hmm." 

"Oh? ... I didn't think nice girls did that. ... I never really thought about it, doing it, just had heard words for it. ... Or was she ... wasn't she a 'nice girl'?" 

"Oh, she was nice all right, but maybe not a girl - a little older." 

I told her the joke about nice and good girls. She laughed and then - like Pam - said: 

"Then I'm a nice girl, 'cause I'm at home in my own bed." 

"I'm not sure, if you invite someone to join you, ... that sounds more like a very good girl - or a very bad one." 

While she giggled, I was thinking that some conversations in bed just can't but repeat themselves, and recognized that I had referred to another joke and explained:

"That's from another joke - the 'very good.' 'When she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was better."

Martha laughed heartily, and I chuckled. Then she continued:

"And good and bad and nice girls do it?" she asked, maybe to herself.

"Only the 'very' ones." She giggled, maybe a little nervously, I thought, as she continued: "Just to be 'very' ... for you - good, bad or nice? Or do they like it?" 

I nodded with a chuckle, liking her curiosity as she went on: 

"... like you do?" I nodded again. 

"Oh, I guess ..., I know it would be good for you ... like it was for me. ... But, well, ... thinking about ... what else we do there, ... you know." 

She fondled him - again now floppy: 

"I kind of thought girls wouldn't like to do it - and certainly not ... all the way, ... you know." 

I nodded again, 

"I don't think I would like that," she continued: "... Didn't they mind? I mean, ... I can't imagine it tastes good ... forgetting the other ... Do any of them really like it?" 

She looked at me, and in the dim light and not knowing her that well, I couldn't tell if her expression was inquisitive or one of disbelief, but it was nice having a question I could answer, as I wondered how. 

"Only the 'very, very' ones, ... " I replied jokingly, and she returned my smile as I continued: 

"... but they did wonder if they would, till they did, ... even the older one. She liked to start that way ... - Did that surprise me! - but ... well, ... she didn't like it the first time it happened, unexpectedly - when she was younger. But then when she wanted to, wanted me to, she did like it, knowing it had been so good for me, ... like another one told about the first time she did it - not with me - that she looked forward to it: 'the proof of his pleasure' as she put it." 

She snorted, and I continued: 

"Yeah, she had already tasted it, and told me it tasted strange, but as she said she told him: 'no worse than beer or oysters taste the first time.'" 

"Hmm! ... Hm-hmm, I never had oysters." 

But she had had beer, I thought, wondering if she had really liked it the first time she tasted it, 

and then went on: 

"Another one said: 'Like a big banana." 

She nodded and said: 

"A couple of girls did it before I did. Maybe I would have, if I had had the chance, probably. It was the next summer, at our 'hytte' - cabin - in the mountains, and his family had one nearby. We only saw each other there, but every summer when we were little, playing together, and then hiking, and then that summer, before my last year in school, a year longer than here, ... well, you can imagine ... What do you say? One thing led to another." 

She smiled at the recollection before she went on: 

"We decided to swim in a little lake, something we had never done before. And now, I guess, we were really more interested in taking off our clothes, 'though we'd never done anything like that before. Yes, it was sort of a dare, and, of course, we could have swum in our underwear, but that didn't occur to us. No, ... yes, we wanted to take them all off, ... and then without towels had to wait till we dried off." 

She chuckled and then concluded: 

"Well you can imagine what happened ... not really, that time, or the next couple of times. Once I made it shoot up past his shoulder. That was impressive." 

She let go of my cock and swept her hand up to my shoulder to demonstrate. I chuckled and agreed: 

"Yeah, I bet," and we both chortled. 

"Maybe I should have tasted it then, but that never occurred to me."

"About the same happened to me, a girl wanting to see it like that - all over her - but she was a little older and had heard that girls did it. She smelled it and then asked: 'And girls do it?' And then asked if any had to me. When I nodded, she asked: "Really?!" but then tasted it. Said it tasted about like it smelled, but not really so bad. Oh, she also mentioned not liking beer the first time she tasted it. But I'm interrupting you."

Martha continued:

"And then he had -'kondomer' - what do you call them?" 

"Condoms, but usually rubbers," 

"... rubbers from his brother ..." 

"From his brother? ... You are pretty liberal in Norway." 

"Yes, I guess. I guess everyone assumes kids will do it." 

"Parents too, ... your mother?" 

"Hmm! And your father, too." 

We both chuckled, and then I admitted that my brother had given me some the first time I stayed out all night. We both laughed, and then hugged each other, and then she snorted and said: 

"And I was thinking we were just going to go to bed and 'do it', like the guys back home always wanted. This is a lot better. I never talked about it so much, not even with my girlfriend, ... but there wasn't much to tell, and we didn't really talk, just admitted - or maybe bragged - that we had done it." 

I hugged her, and she chuckled, hugging me back, and then snickered and asked: 

"Do you do it as well as you talk about it?" 

"I don't know. There's one way to find out."

Martha snickered, and her hand slid back down and found him, and she chuckled softly as her fingers moved on him, and then she said softly: 

"I want to try it, ... just to start, you know." 

She looked at me for confirmation that I understood. I nodded, and she smiled as her fingers moved some more, and he was already looking forward to it as she started to move her head down, and I rolled on my back, and she let me move away from the edge of the bed as she rested her head on my stomach and her hand moved on him. She snorted softly, and then I felt her hold him lower and felt her kiss him, moving her lips on him, and then her tongue, and then slowly letting her lips slide around him as she moved her head a little further, her mouth all warm around him. "Um-hmm;" I encouraged her, and she nodded slightly, and I felt her tongue on him, rubbing gently, and then finding and exploring in the groove. 

"Unnn, that feels good," I whispered, and she nodded and agreed with a soft "uhn-hnn" in her throat as I felt her suck slightly as her tongue caressed him, making him surge, and she chuckled softly in response.

Then she rolled her head back, letting him slip from her mouth, and asked: 

"Is that right?" 

"Very," I replied, and she snorted, and was about to take him back in her mouth, when she said: 

"Oh, they're under the pillow, my ... rubbers." 

And then she had him back in her mouth as I replied: 

"Yes, I'll find them." 

I did - three individual ones, making me snort at the thought that she might have anticipated that we would need all of them. 

But then I was only enjoying what she was doing, enjoying her experimenting at sucking him deep in her mouth, real deep. Was her mouth deeper than the others'? And I was trying to hold my hips still and not let him become too aroused. Then suddenly she let him slip out again and said: 

"Oh, that tasted good. But that wasn't it; it didn't shoot out. But I liked that, ... and like doing it." 

"I do too," I agreed. I felt her tongue lick around his little hole, and then she murmured: "Nice and slippery and salty." And she licked again. Then she snorted and whispered: 

"Beer, oysters? ... Oh, I'm going to do it. I like doing it, and the others like it; I will too. I want to." 

And then he was back in her mouth, and I held her breast and put my other hand on her head and whispered: 

"I want you to, too, and want you to like it, and it's going to be so good. It already is, thank you," and rubbed her aroused nipple. 

Oh, it's so special, so arousing, knowing a girl is doing it the first time, wanting to do it, and wanting to go all the way! And it was being so good, making him surge, and she was letting me rock her head gently, and then I couldn't hold my hips still, and murmured to warn her: "Soon." 

She moaned in response with a slight nod and held him tighter as I gasped and felt her catch her breath through her mouth as I gasped out "Now!" And she seemed almost aroused as I was as I came, clutching him in her hand and eagerly moving her head as he spurted in her mouth, as my hips thrust him into her mouth, shooting it deep in her mouth.

And then we were both still, except for her tongue as she drew her head back a little, and I felt it moving. I just held her breast and stroked her hair with my fingers, and she nodded, still holding him, and I slide my hand down and stroked her cheek, wanting her to feel my hand touching her face as I murmured: 

"That was wonderful. Thank you." She nodded again, and I said: 

"Come, let me kiss you. I want to kiss you for that."

With a nodded and a little chuckle, she quickly was up and over me, smiling slightly as she came down on me with her face over mine. Our lips met and then opened as my tongue sought hers, and then tasted it as I sucked hers into my mouth, and then tasted it slightly with mine in hers.




Martha in America Ch. 01



And then she raised her head and whispered eagerly: 

"Oh, they were right. Thanks for telling me. I was so aroused to be doing it, at the start. And then after you said 'very', and I was doing it again, I recalled that you had said: 'only the "very" ones', and was thinking that maybe I could be one of those. And then - after tasting and liking that - I didn't want to be just 'very, very'; I wanted to be the 'nicest, best, worst', and wanted it to be best for you ..." 

"It was," I interjected. She grinned and continued: 

"And then I was wanting you to - like that girl, wanting the 'proof of your pleasure' - and thinking how it was going to be, all that white stuff shooting in my mouth - however it tasted. I wanted it, was all aroused at the thought that I was doing it, and that it was going to happen, that I was going to make it shoot like that time, but in my mouth. Oh, and then it did, right into my throat, and then so much, again and again, and I wasn't caring how it tasted, just wanting it, aroused and pleased that I was making you do it, ... and a little proud of myself, that I had dared to ... and been rewarded by discovering I liked it."

She sank back down on me again, and I hugged her as I said: 

"You're pretty good at talking about it too - that was delightful - and not just the talking about it." 

She snickered and raised her head, smirking, and replied: 

"Now I know something else I can do with my mouth." 

We both chuckled, our stomach muscles moving on each other. Then she said more seriously: 

"That was good, when you said 'soon', warning me, and I liked the confirmation that it was being so good for you, even more arousing in anticipation. But when you said 'now,' I had already felt it - not shooting, just a few drops. But when you said 'now,' it sure did. Oh, it tastes strange, but how else should it taste? You wouldn't want it to taste like anything else. It tastes the way it should."

"Um-hmm," I agreed with a nod and then smirked and said: 

"No, you wouldn't. Imagine what it would be like if it did, maybe like ..., I don't know what. And every time you had that, you had to think about this." 

She giggled and then laughed, and I, with her, and then she said: 

"And half the women at the table thinking about doing it." 

We laughed again, and I jiggled her ass. She kissed me and then let her head down next to my shoulder.

Then I remembered the rubbers and asked: 

"Did you think we would need three ... condoms?" 

"They were all I had," she replied cheerfully with a snicker: 

"... but I didn't want us to run out of them." 

I snorted and agreed, and then remembered what she had said before and added: 

"Yes, like you said. He could tell you he was going to be careful, but he might start - like I did - before he knew it. Always use them." 

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a nod and then said: 

"That's what my brother said, too," and she snorted: 

"... always to use them, not your explanation. My eldest brother, he gave them to me." 

I snorted and replied: 

"The whole family trying to keep you out of trouble in the Big City." 

She snorted too with a nod, and then remarked softly: 

"But I didn't need them," sounding a little disappointed. 

"We're going to try to make up for that," I reminded her. She kissed my neck and answered: "You already have, at least a start, a real good start." I held her ass and moved her whole body a little on me.

"I've got to go again," she murmured: "... it must be late." 

"I do too," I agreed.

"You can use my bathroom." 

She got up and then as I was getting up, maybe hesitating, to let her go by herself, she remarked: 

"I've seen guys do it before, ... well, one, ... the one in the mountains, ... after we started really doing it. Before that we were a little more private about it."

But she wasn't being now, turning and sitting on the toilet, smiling a little wryly as she started, and then said cheerfully: 

"Then I started to do it standing up with him, both of us giggling at seeing it." 

I chuckled with her, noticing that she was looking at my cock - of course, wanting to see it in the light. I offered her her washcloth - it was still damp - and she took it with a little snort and used it as she said: 

"I guess you have, too." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed as she got up without flushing, just raising the ring for me. 

"They're all curious," I added, and then wished that I hadn't said it, but she picked up on it immediately and asked: 

"How many? Now you have to tell me." 

"I'll have to count them," I replied: 

"I usually only think about one of them ... at night." She snickered and said: 

"Oh, that's polite of you, a real 'young gentleman'." 

I had to keep from laughing so as not to miss the bowl. Then she handed me her washcloth and remarked: 

"After that, I liked to do in the shower, standing up so I could see it, but then I had to watch out after sports at school. It gets to be habit, feeling like you have to go under the shower." "I can imagine," I agreed as we chuckled and then I flushed and rinsed out the cloth, and we went back to her bed. As she got into it, I picked up my clothes and blew out the candle and then joined her.

She was lying on her back, and I just lay next to her with my arm over her. 

"How late is it?" she asked. 

"Well after midnight," I replied, thinking that couldn't be wrong. 

"When do you have to be at work?" 

"Eight-thirty" I answered, wondering what my job would be like. 

"Oh, that's not too early. Do we need an alarm clock?" 

"No, I replied, remembering that her room got the morning sun and that the curtains and blinds weren't closed.

She snorted mildly and said: 

"Count. How many?" 

I started, in chronological order: "One, two-three, four, ..." and then to get my sister out of the way - and keep it interesting - said: "Five, the one who tasted it, ..." 

I felt Martha nod: "and then a couple last year at college, ... but they were more like the way you mentioned." 

I felt her nod again and then she added: 

"And me, ... if that counts." 

"And you," I agreed: 

"... it certainly does count, and if it doesn't, we'll make it count." 

She chuckled and agreed: 

"Oh, we will, ... but not tonight." 

I nodded. She rolled away from me, and I moved a little closer and found her breast as she said: 

"I never slept all night with a boy, not like just sleeping. Oh, we slept some - a couple of times - but - you know - I had to get up and go home." 

I squeezed her breast, and she held my hand and murmured sleepily: 

"And this is great, just wonderful, ... just real nice ... like this, ... all relaxed." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, also sleepily, adding: "Good night," expecting her to responded, but then I felt her snort silently, and then she asked more brightly: 

"What would have happened if you hadn't had one of my beers?" 

"Hmm? Maybe you would have still offered me one ... and then ..." 

"Um-hmm," she agreed, and snorted again silently under my arm, and added: 

"... was sort of planning to, if it seemed ... appropriate." 

She snorted again and admitted: 

"I had one with Helga after the film - she's another Norwegian au pair - sort of to get up my nerve. But it was easier, when I saw that you had already taken one." 

I had to snicker and commented: 

"Your mother wouldn't have liked that." 

"Nor your father," she replied: "... but it was my idea - the beer, at least - and she's further away, so I'll take the responsibility." I squeezed her breast again, and she squeezed my hand. 

"Sweet dreams," I murmured. 

"You too," she responded, but then snorted softly again and added: 

"They could be better after this evening, but not tonight. Good night." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, and we went to sleep.

At some time in the night, I was half awakened by her rolling over under my arm, and maybe I thought she was my sister as she settled down again without waking up. It just seemed nice and familiar, and I dozed off again. When I woke up, I was lying on my other side and recognized the sounds of the city, thinking: yes, back home again. After a few moments, I opened my eyes, surprised that I wasn't in my room and wondered where I was, and then recognized our guest room. 

Then it all came back to me in a rush, starting with the image of her standing in her nightgown in the candlelight, and she must be lying behind me now, I thought, Martha. Yes, I considered without moving, the sheet wasn't there on my back. How was it going to be, getting up with her? Or not yet getting up with her? It seemed pretty early still. Would it be just like we seemed to have assumed in the night? How was that? "Making up for it," her lack of sex in America. Or would she feel different about it all in the light of day? No, she wasn't like those girls last winter, not the way she had so openly talked about her experiences, and certainly not the way she decided to do it - and then told about it so charmingly; and not in the bathroom, telling about going standing up, and I had to stifle my snort at the recollection of her telling about having to watch out not to do that in the school showers. Oh no, it was going to be just about the way we had been assuming. Should I wake her?

I moved my foot back a little and touched hers.



Martha in America Ch. 02



Then it all came back to me in a rush, starting with the image of her standing in her nightgown in the candlelight, and she must be lying behind me now, I thought, Martha. Yes, I considered without moving, the sheet wasn't there on my back. How was it going to be, getting up with her? Or not yet getting up with her? It seemed pretty early still. Would it be just like we seemed to have assumed in the night? How was that? "Making up for it," her lack of sex in America. Or would she feel different about it all in the light of day? 

No, she wasn't like those girls last winter, not the way she had so openly talked about her experiences, and certainly not the way she decided to do it - and then told about it so charmingly; and not in the bathroom, telling about going standing up, and I had to stifle my snort at the recollection of her telling about having to watch out not to do that in the school showers. Oh no, it was going to be just about the way we had been assuming. Should I wake her?

I moved my foot back a little and touched hers.

Immediately, her hand brushed my back, and she asked softly: 

"Awake?" 

"Um-hmm." 

"Me too. ... Hm-hmm! ... That was funny, waking up, and then opening my eyes and seeing you. ... Did you sleep well?" 

"Yes, thank you, very well. Good morning. You too?" 

"Oh, yes, Good morning. Real good, of course. ... Is that right: 'real good', when you said 'very well'?" 

She rubbed my back. I had to think for a moment and then said: 

"Maybe 'real well' is more correct, but I'm not sure, and ... - hm-hmm - ... in this situation your 'real good' sounds more positive. 'Very well' sounds a little formal, restrained." 

"But you said it?" she commented, and now let her hand slide over my side.

No, it was going to be no problem getting up with her, I thought as I found the answer: 

"In answer to your asking if I had slept well, I repeating the word you used." 

"Oh, that makes sense," she agreed and rubbed her hand on my chest, and then let her fingers play in my hair as she commented: "I like that; I didn't notice that last night, that you have hair on you chest. ... That was wonderful." 

"It sure was," I agreed, liking her mentioning it - in contrast to the girls in the winter, who acted like nothing had happened the next time we met, even if we had done it more than once and were meeting for a date that ended up the same way.

Her fingers moved a little more and she returned to that subject: 

"Most men in Norway don't have much, or any, like my brothers." 

She snorted and held me a little closer as her hand held my breast, and I felt hers against my back. She continued:

"That was funny; I was dreaming about my brother, the younger one, dreaming we were sleeping together. Not like that, when we were little. We shared a bed in our old apartment. I can't remember him sleeping with his arm around me, but maybe he did, and yours reminded me for the dream. He's only a year older, almost a twin. I was an accident, at least, coming so soon." 

"A very lucky accident," I rejoined. 

She hugged me in response, and then chuckled and said: 

"I've dreamed - dreamt - about him before, not when we were little - after I had done it - but only much later remembered, and then just very ... 'cloudy'. There's a better word for that." 

"Vaguely," I suggested. 

"Yes, vaguely, not really sure what happened." 

She snickered and then continued: 

"Of course, till we started school, till he did, we saw each other. Almost all kids that age in Norway don't wear anything on the beach, don't think anything about it. A few years ago, I saw two boys playing in a fountain in Oslo like that.

We both chuckled again, almost laughing, and I rolled over, and she looked at least as attractive as I had remembered. 

"Good morning, again," I said and gave her a kiss, just a smack, and she gave me one back and said: 

"Good morning to you too, again. What time is it?" 

I looked at my watch, and it was only seven o'clock, and she smirked at me suggestively with a chuckle, and I had to grin, and then rolled her over on top of me, and she looked down at me expectantly and then said with a sly grin: 

"I'm not sure that really counted last night," and snickered, her stomach moving delightfully on mine. 

"Oh, I'm sure it did," I replied to tease her: "... we agreed on that." 

"Okay, then it did," she agreed with a grin: 

"... but you promised me we were going to 'make up for it', for almost ten months, and I wanted it at least once a week," and she grinned again. I joggled her ass and replied: 

"That's about forty times, that's probably more than we've had together, each of us, ... with ... seven, six, Thirteen partners - that sounds wicked - and eight times a day. That's not going to happen." 

I grinned, and she did too with a nod, and then replied: 

"I don't think I could either, but we could start." Then she laughed and said: 

"At the end of the week, I'll tell you if we got to Christmas .... oh, Hanukah."

We both laughed as I calculated that that would be about a dozen times, still a pretty impressive effort for the coming five or six days, then recalling that my sister and I had that many times, but days and nights. I remarked: 

"Spread them out," ... only twice a month - that's more realistic - and then maybe we'll get to Passover and Easter." 

She laughed again with a nod and said: 

"But if it had really happened - like I would have wanted - it would have been twice a night - at least - so we're still just back at Hanukah." 

"And you're going to be disappointed, ... if you're just counting the times." 

"I know. It was only a joke," she agreed more seriously. 

"But a good one, ... but we better start now." 

"That's what I was going to suggest," she replied and kissed me. And we did.

She was surprised that I didn't want to be on top, but then she liked the freedom to move the way she wanted to, and that was real good, and she was surprised when I started to touch her, but then she liked that too - not just letting it feel good, but then telling me with her lips on mine. And then she was just wanting it, waiting for it, her pussy wanting it, clutching as she moved under my fingers, and then we both came, together and real good, 

As she slumped down on me with great gasps, I suddenly recalled Masters and Johnson, that they had written that experienced first time partners could do it as good as couples that had experience together. "Hm-mm, hm-mm, hm-mm," she was still moaning softly with each breath.

Finally, she raised her head and kissed me, and then got up and said she had to go, and went to the bathroom. I was a little surprised that she didn't say anything, but thought that from her experience there wasn't much to thank for. The guys did it, just did it, and the girls were just lucky if it was halfway good. I took off the rubber, and followed her. 

She was already standing in the bathtub, facing me and "going," smirking and then grinning at me, and then watching me as I dropped the rubber in the toilet and used it. Obviously she was going to shower immediately, and there wasn't enough time to take a shower together, so I flushed and told her I would shower in my bathroom. She nodded with a smile, and I went back and picked up my things and went to my room.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she called to me. 

"Scrambled eggs," I called back, remembering that she made breakfast for the family. 

When I joined her in the kitchen, dressed for work, she was wearing a simple summer dress - and not much else, I surmised. She noticed that I had been watching her and glanced at me with smile and said: 

"I know, your mother wouldn't approve, but lots of girls in Norway go without a bra in the summer." 

"But they probably do up another button," 

"I wanted to be sure you noticed," she said as she dished up the eggs, and we went to the kitchen table. 

"You don't mind eating in the kitchen?" she suddenly asked as we were about to sit down.

I didn't, and we ate, sharing a couple of smiles and smirks at first, but then talking about what she planned to do during the week: the Brooklyn Museum, and the Met again, and she wondered if it was worth going uptown to the Hispanic Society. I didn't know. And she wanted to take the Staten Island Ferry, almost a day's outing, and I suggested that she include a tour of Federal Reserve Bank - see the gold bars - or do something else downtown.

And then we were finished, and it was time for me to leave. As she accompanied me through the apartment to the door, she said: 

"This evening I'm going to cook a Norwegian specialty for you, 'fiskeboller' - fishballs, ... fish dumplings. You probably won't like them, but I do, and discovered where I can buy them. And I'll buy some more beer." 

"At my expense, ..." I replied, and she nodded with a smile: 

"... but at least do up another button before you go out." 

She smirked and undid another one, almost revealing one of her nipples as we stood at the door. I grinned and said: 

"And tomorrow I'll take you out for oysters, ... at the famous Oyster Bar in Grand Central." She smirked and replied: 

"Oh, that will be good, thank you," and then smirked again and added: 

"I bet I'll like them," eliciting a smirk from me, and another one as she added: 

"Today - after the shopping - I'm going to take off everything and wait for you. I like to go nude - like up in the mountains." 

"Me too," I agreed: "... just sit on a towel on the upholstery." 

She nodded with a smile and said: 

"Oh, that's good. I wanted you to know, just so you won't be surprised this evening. When will you be home?" 

I thought I would be back by six o'clock, and then remembered that my sister had given me "Lady Chatterley" to return to the bookshelf and rushed to my room and and found it, giving it to her with the comment: 

"If that's what you're planning to do, then here is some appropriate literature." 

She took it from me and looked at the title and smirked and said: 

"Thanks. I guess so. I didn't see it there. Your parents said I could use your library. Where was it hidden? Did you find it?"

"Not really hidden, above head height, my sister found it." 

"Which one? And told you?"

"The younger one," I replied before I realized that it would have been a lot better - and more acceptable - to have said the other one had.

"She was reading it? Last week?" 

"No, just had it along." 

"And gave it to you ... told you about it?"

"Just to bring back. She didn't read it. I haven't either."

I haven't, just heard about it. Hmm? And she wanted to read it, in case she was bored last week?"

"I guess so."

She smiled, and I gave her quick kiss and departed, seeing her wave the book as I closed the door. 

After this delay, I was about to take a taxi, but then the right bus came. The ride didn't give me enough time to answer my questions. Why did I have to think to give Martha the book? She needed any need any erotic suggestions, and I had only implied that my sister could have wanted some, but not after talking to her sister. And she hadn't read it, so if she had been wanting some, what had we been doing to instead? I knew too well!

I was at work on time. The students in the program introduced themselves, and we were told about our work. 

There wasn't much time for daydreaming, but, of course, my thoughts returned to Martha, wondering where in the apartment she might be sitting naked and reading Lady Chat. Was she really going to greet me naked at the door? And what were "fiskeboller" like? Fish dumplings? Something like fish cakes? If "love goes through the stomach," does that also mean trying to enjoy a favorite food of hers? But we both knew it wasn't love, just a very opportune affair, and from what she had told, having sex was something one did when one could, pretty much my attitude, but it seemed a more generally accepted one in Norway, at least from what she had said - maybe not in all parts of society - just as it wasn't in our crowd.

These thoughts occurred in many short mind-wanderings during the day, reminding me of the coming evening, and then finally it was time to go home. On the way, most of them came back to me again, along with some others, like wondering how my sister was getting along, and that from my experience, maybe young people in America were about as liberal as those in Norway, but it just wasn't as open. Then, as I was walking to our building, I again wondered if Martha would really be naked, and if we were really going to spend the next evenings try to make up for her ...? "Abstinence", the word came to me as I greeted the doorman. Would she be? In the elevator, it occurred to me that "deprivation" was a better word for it.

She wasn't, smiling a little wryly when she saw my questioning look, and then closed the door before she said anything. Then she grinned and said: 

"I was. I did it after I came back - yes, I buttoned up - and it was funnier than I had anticipated, just being naked everywhere in the apartment – such a contrast to the formal surroundings and how your parents are. I really felt like I was breaking a taboo - more exciting than doing it at home." 

"I can imagine," I agreed with a grin, envisioning her naked in our living room. 

"Um-hmm," she went on: "... but I did it - turned up the temperature on the air conditioning - and then put a chair in the sun at a window and read. ... She wanted to read that?! 

"Hmm? I guess so. She didn't," I replied, hoping Martha wouldn't ask more questions about her, and tried to look non-committal. 

Martha glanced at me and then went on: 

"Anyway, reading in the sun was nice, but then the phone rang, and it was your mother, and I really felt naked - as though she could see me, right there at the telephone - and that wasn't helped by her asking what I had done yesterday. She's always been nice about showing an interest in what I have been doing, but not just then: asking if you had come home safely and what we had done in the evening." 

She looked at me with big eyes - big blue-green eyes I recognized now in the daylight - as I nodded recalling my mother's calls to Fire Island. Martha continued: 

"Luckily I could tell her that I had been to the movie with Helga, so there wasn't much evening with you to tell about," and she smiled at me: 

"... that we chatted for a while, talking about my family - that was true, sort of - and went to bed." She grinned and added: "That was also true, but I hope your mother didn't ... When I said it, I wasn't thinking that it could be ... understood another way." 

"Misunderstood, construed," I suggested.

As she nodded, I said that I doubted she would have, and then grinned and said: 

"Maybe you should tell me something more about your family. I don't think my mother would want to hear about your brothers and your mother, at least the little I know about them."

She snickered, and then laughed, and then suggested that we didn't have to keep standing in the entrance hall. She followed me on her bare feet to my room as I took off my jacket and tie and hung them up and turned back to her. 

"Is that all?" she asked, looking a little disappointed, and I noticed that another button of her dress was undone, as she said softly: 

"You said you liked to, too." 

I nodded and started to unbutton my shirt, and she looked more satisfied as I said: 

"If you want to." 

She nodded with a grin as I stripped off my shirt and tossed it on my dressing stand. As I took off my trousers, I asked: 

"And what are we going to do if she calls again?" 

"Oh?," she said, and then said: "Oh, she won't. She said they were all going over to some friends for supper. That's why she called." 

"That's a relief," I replied as I hung up my trousers, and then turned back to her and took off my t-shirt, adding: 

"For you too. I was thinking about tickling you while you were talking to her." 

She laughed. As I took off my socks, she started to shrug her shoulders out of her dress, letting it slip down as I looked back up at her, watching her help it slide down over her hips, revealing her cotton panties, and then we each took our underpants off and looked at each other, smiling when our eyes met after they had glanced at the rest of each other. 

She had fuller hips than I expected or remembered from the night before - not fat, "strong hips" - accentuating her waist, and strong legs, maybe not ideal, but they seemed attractively appropriate on her. And, of course, her breasts were lovely; I knew that already.

"Oh," she said: "... I was planning to kiss you at the door." 

That was all the suggestion we needed. Later, I thought it was very subtle of her, but probably it was just the impulsive, honest remark that occurred to her, and we did, much better than we would have at the door, with the expected consequence, both of us wanting to be in bed, but I knew that I had forgotten to take my rubbers out of the pants I had had on the evening before, and the others were in my toilet kit. 

But that didn't matter. When we loosened our embraced, and I flung back the covers, she immediately lay down with her feet on the pillow, looking at me longingly as she said: 

"I want to do it again." 

She raised her thigh, inviting me to, exposing her pussy with its light covering of more reddish than blond hair, and then we were doing it, my mouth on her as she drew him to hers before we had settled comfortably. I wondered if we wanted to take our time, but she didn't - maybe after reading all day - sucking him deep in her mouth. And her fingers crept a little between the cheeks of my ass, and a little further. She wanted me to touch her there again, and I did. She nodded and moved her fingers, and I nodded, and she understood that it would be arousing for me too, and it was, also to know she had thought it would be and that she wanted to do it!

She wanted me to come, was so eager to make me come, so eager to have me come in her mouth again! Even if she had been reading about it all day, she couldn't be so aroused already that she would come as soon as I was going to. But I wanted her to, was doing everything I could to make her, wanted to have her come in my mouth, come all over my face! But I wasn't going to be able to; she was making him surge and thrust into her mouth. Oh, yes! Take it! Have it! "Unn!" Right in your mouth! "Unn!" All that white stuff! "Unn!" You want it! "Unn!" I want to give it to you! "Unn!" Like that! "Unnn!" The last of it, her mouth full of it as I relaxed and felt her tongue moving it, her head still, just gently holding him with her lips.

But her hips moved, and my mouth moved again on her, but now there was no hurry; just let her enjoy it and let me enjoy doing it. And we both were, as she seemed to have the same thought, just letting me do it, encouraging me with little moans as she still held him, and occasional movements of her pelvis, and I let my tongue explore the length of her pussy, sometimes going deeper into her, and then at the other end caressing her firm little knob, delighting when that made her gasp cool air in past him. But otherwise, she was just gently sucking on him, nursing on him, and I could tell he was smaller from the way she was sucking more of him into her mouth. And for a while we just enjoyed that, maybe both of us enjoying more what we were doing than what the other was doing. And maybe she was holding back, wanting to enjoy it for as long as possible.

But then I began to think about how good it was going to be when I made her come: how she was going to move, how her pelvis was going to move - asking for it - and then her thighs quivering in uncontrollable anticipation, and then her sweet love juice spurting in my face. It was going to be so good! And for her too! And I wanted that, no longer just enjoying the feeling of her pussy, now trying to make it better for her. And she nodded and sucked on him more vigorously, not just nursing on him, sucking and licking. My own anticipation of her becoming more aroused was arousing for me too. And she was becoming more aroused, just like I had anticipated. Oh! And he was too! Her nodding not just moving him up and down but now in and out, rubbing in her mouth! "Uhn-hnnn," I hummed against her pussy, and then kept humming with each breath as I sucked and licked her aroused clitoris. Her rocking pelvis was asking for it, and her moving head asking for it from me again. My fingers were moving too: not just rubbing her asshole - probing. She nodded again - or maybe she was just moving her head on him more vigorously - and started to press on me with a finger, finding my hole and pressing in it. "Uhnnn!" I hummed with my lips and tongue on her clitoris as I clutched her ass to my face, and when she relaxed after that, my finger slid into her a little, and she held it as she sucked him deeper with a moan that vibrated on him, making him surge and my asshole tighten under her finger, but when he surged again, it clutched her fingertip.




Martha in America Ch. 02



And then we were doing it to each other with no reservations, our fingertips wiggling and probing deeper, and then wiggling and moving in and out as we sucked and licked, and I had my nose buried in her cunt, willing her to come as my hips jerked to thrust him into her mouth, and hers began to jerk too as she moaned loudly and met his thrusts. Her thighs began to quiver, quickly clutching my head as her pelvis jerked to press her engorged knob against my mouth as her asshole clamped tight around my finger - like I knew her cunt was clutching. And then she started to come, biting him in a reflex as she spurted, but then trying to make him come as she spurted again and again, and then he did, not as much as she did, but then finally she stilled, just moaning softly with deep breaths, and I was also moaning, my tired tongue finally relaxing.

It seemed as though we lay like that for a long time, but probably it wasn't any longer the milder interlude before we really started again, and then she let him slip from her mouth - all soft now, just flopping down - and sighed and said: 

"I just love anything you do," and slipped her finger out: 

"... and that, too," and I did as she nodded, and I replied with my lips moving on her pussy: "And I just love it that you do." 

"Um-hmm," she responded and raised her thigh, propping it up with her foot as she chuckled, letting me see her lovely pussy, as sweet and pink as my sister's, but I liked Martha's sparse, light-colored hair better. Instead of seeming to want to hide her pussy, it seemed to be just a token sign of adulthood, leaving her pussy exposed as though it were happy to be seen - like at that moment, or when being naked in the mountains.

Before all this went through my mind, she was already talking, now less intimately: 

"It's a good thing that I didn't have anything on the stove. I was thinking about having dinner ready when you came home, but then wasn't sure that it might not be ready before you came. ... Hm-hmm! "I didn't want us to waste any time waiting for it to cook." 

I snickered too and held her breast and replied: 

"We didn't even waste any time for eating either, just eating each other as a first course." 

She snickered and then laughed and agreed: 

"We sure did. I even had a second helping. ... I didn't know you could do that. I thought men had to wait longer. You must be real strong." 

I snickered and replied: 

"How could I keep you waiting, if you wanted a second helping, ... and with your mouth just sucking and licking to have it?" 

She almost laughed again as she answered: 

"Like yours was. ... God, you do that good!" 

"Not any better than you do, thank you."

She snorted and rocked her head forward and kissed him - close up near my hair, and then slid her hand over my hip and played in my curly hairs with her fingers. Then she said: 

"I guess having a heavy beard goes along with having hair on your chest." 

"Oh, I'm sorry. ... Sorry, it was probably even worse last night." 

She snorted again and agreed: 

"Maybe, but I didn't notice. It was all too arousing," and she chuckled in a pleased sort of way. 

"I'll shave while you're cooking," I offered. 

"Are we going to do it again?" she asked, and it sounded like she was really surprised. 

"Only if you want to?" 

"Hmm! ... Hm-hmm! I don't know. This could become a bad habit - like going in the shower - wanting to have sex before dinner: just thinking about making dinner and wanting to have sex first."

That wasn't really the answer to my question, but I chuckled at what she had said - at what had come to her mind, and replied: 

"I don't know. It depends on the company." 

"Hm-hmm! It sure would. I guess that it couldn't become a habit unless the company was good." 

We both chuckled, and then I said: 

"I'll shave now, ... just in case." 

She nodded on my thigh and replied: 

"I've got to go. May I use yours?" 

"Of course," I agreed, and we got up and did.

She used the toilet, which settled my question to myself, if she would do it in the tub again, but that still let me wonder if she really did that all the time or had done it just for me. I turned on the water in the basin to shave. 

She watched me start to shave and then grinned and remarked: 

"If you go to all the trouble, I guess we ought to," and grinned again. 

"Don't feel like you have to just for my sake," I replied and grinned at her in the mirror with shaving soap all over my face. 

She just nodded, still grinning, and then said she would start dinner, and went back in my room and picked up her dress and panties, and in the mirror I saw her go off with them in her hand.

I joined her in the kitchen, both of us naked, and she nodded with a smirk when she saw me, and then suggested that I get us a couple of beers. I did, noting that she had bought two six-packs, and opened them and handed her one. She turned to me, and we both said "Skaal," looking at each other, and drank, and looked at each other again, and she giggled and said: 

"I never did that before like this," and glanced down at her naked breasts and her aroused nipples, and snorted as she added: "and certainly didn't expect I would here." 

We both chuckled, and then she turned back to her cooking. I asked if I could help, but she said that she wanted to do everything "for you," and smiled at me, so I let her, perching on the corner of kitchen table as I sipped at my beer and enjoyed watching her, observing that her nipples stiffened whenever she noticed me looking at her. She was obviously enjoying being nude.

Then she started to set the table in the dining room, making two trips to take everything there. When she returned the second time, she smiled wryly and said: 

"Oooh, that's just too strange, setting the table like I so often have, but like this - and she glanced again down at herself - like I have for your parents. ... I just can't see us sitting there like this - especially when I think about sitting there again with them." 

She smiled wryly again as she looked at me questioningly, and then asked: 

"Can we dress for dinner?" 

I nodded, appreciating her feelings and thinking they applied just as much for me - maybe more so - and replied spontaneously to her question: "dress for dinner" with: "Black tie?" She looked surprised and repeated: "Black tie?" looking like she didn't understand the expression. "Tuxedo," I explained, and then remembered the English expression: "Smoking jacket." She nodded but still looked as though she hadn't understood why I had said it. 

When I had explained, also that I had something of a problem with sitting at the family dining table naked, she grinned and said: 

"No, just something. I'll put on my dress again." 

She glanced at where it was lying on a chair. We both had a drink of our beers, sort of to confirm our understanding, and I went back to my room and put on my underpants and shirt and the slacks from the day before, discovering the rubbers still in the pocket. She had her dress on when I returned - with most of the buttons buttoned - and was putting her "fiskeboller" in a serving plate, white dumplings with a white sauce with some little dark berries in it. The boiled potatoes were already dished up, and the salad she had made was ready, so I took them to the table, appreciating again her misgivings about our sitting there all naked. She came in with the "fiskeboller", and I suggested we have another beer, and she agreed, and then as I was about to get them, asked: 

"Candles?" 

"If you want," I agreed.

When I returned with our beers - in glasses - she was lighting the candles on one of the candelabra that we used for more formal dinners. 

She was surprised when I held the chair for her, but smiled appreciatively as she sat down, and then offered to dish up, serving me two of the fish dumplings and ladling the sauce over them, and then putting potatoes on my plate. Then she served herself, as I helped myself to salad and waited for her to take some. Then we smiled at each other, and I felt we were both hesitating and recognized that I was waiting for her pick up her knife and fork - as I would have waited for my mother - and since she still hesitated, I smiled and said: 

"Tonight, you're the hostess." 

She smiled back then, looking as though she appreciated my having recognized why she had hesitated, and then did take them as she said: 

"I guess so," and smiled, waiting for me to pick up mine, and said: 

"Like with your mother - or mine, at home." 

Then she paused thoughtfully, and I was glad I hadn't already started to eat as she added: "She always said ... a prayer?" 

"Grace," I suggested for the word she had been seeking. 

"Yes, 'grace', she agreed softly. 

"If you want to," I offered, and she looked at me as though she really wanted to, but then she said: 

"No, I guess not. Thanks. Funny, I had forgotten that I missed that when I first was here - till I just mentioned it."

I liked that, her spontaneous feeling and her telling me; and her mother's saying grace and still being so realistic/direct - neither the best word - to advise her daughter not to have sex with the "young gentleman," and recalled my mother's mentioning her appreciation for her good table manners.

"If you want to," I repeated as these thoughts went through my mind. 

She smiled mildly and said: 

"It's too Christian, really a child's prayer." 

"How does it go?" I ask softly, curious, but also wanting to let her fulfill her role as hostess - if she felt that that belonged to it. 

She looked at me for a moment, a little questioningly, and then with a slight smile said: 

"If you want," and thought for another moment and said: 

"In English, something like this," and she lowered her head - and instinctively I did too - and she spoke softly: 

"Come Lord Jesus, be our guest, and bless the food You ... Thou us given hast." 

She looked up again at me with a mildly quizzical expression, as though she liked that she had said it, but was unsure of my response. I smiled mildly, liking that she had wanted to say it, as - I hoped - the appropriate response occurred to me: 

"In good Jewish families, the mother is also supposed to say a grace." 

I wasn't sure that was really correct, but she smiled gratefully, which was more important, and then to change the subject said: 

"You'll like them even less if they're cold," and gestured with her fork at her "fiskeboller." 

I tried some, while she looked at me expectantly. They didn't taste like anything, just a mild, white, almost texture-less something, maybe a little like fish, but the creamy sauce and capers - as I discovered the dark berries were - seemed the primary source of any flavor. She was still looking at me, smiling a little as I swallowed - one hardly had to chew them - and remarked before I had to say anything: 

"That's the way they are, supposed to be. I guess one can make them, but everyone buys them in the can - just like the one I found here." 

She smiled a little triumphantly and finally took a first bite. I took one and remarked: 

"Yes, I'm sure, and just about the way I expected." 

She grinned and said: 

"I didn't expect you to really like them, but we poor Norwegians do." 

"Your sauce is very nice," I remarked, hoping it was a personal compliment, but she replied: "It also comes in the can. I just added more capers, like Mother always does."

For a moment, it occurred to me to say something about Jesus' blessing it: maybe to ask if he knew what he was in for as "guest"; or if it was fair to ask his blessings for it. But, of course, I didn't, repressing my cynical vein, My thoughts were only cynical, harmlessly cynical, as I watched her eating with delight, and especially as she remarked between bites: 

"I've missed them all winter." 

Then she smiled at me and dipped her fork with a piece in the white sauce, moving it around and with her knife helping to collect more of the sauce on it, and I suddenly remembered our talk in the night: what if it tasted like something else? Maybe my expression revealed what had occurred to me. 

She smirked and collected more sauce on the piece on her fork, so that it dripped when she raised it, and smirked at me again so that it was only too apparent that whatever she was thinking about had nothing to do with just "fiskeboller" or her mother, and then I heard again her "I've missed them all winter," wondering if it was just my imagination, or if she had already meant it as an oblique reference, if it was just a Freudian slip, maybe one that she only subconsciously recognized as she waited unnecessarily for me to take a bite, to also gather up some of the white sauce. When those thoughts that had come to me, I did it no less generously, letting it drip from my fork too. With just a little smile, we both put our forks in our mouths, and maybe it wasn't an accident that a drop of the white sauce clung to her lip, and maybe even less unintentional the way her tongue gathered it in, especially with the way she smirked again.

"It doesn't taste like that," I remarked, smirking back at her, then suddenly wondering if I had somehow misinterpreted her expression. 

But she grinned and replied: 

"I know, but I wanted you to think of it." 

I smirked again and replied: 

"Oh, I did, tastes a lot more interesting." 

Then I did something I would never have done with my parents at the table: with my knife I gathered up some of the white sauce - and it did really look like what we were talking about - and put the end of the blade with it in my mouth, and even moved it in and out a little before I drew it out between my closed lips as she grinned at me. With a snort, I remarked: 

"Now I know why you like this so much, subconsciously imagining it to be great helping of that "white stuff", as you put it."

She started to snicker and then laughed as I chuckled. Finally she said: 

"I don't think so, but I will now," and chuckled and added: 

"I guess I did already, sort of. On the way home from the deli where I found them, after what we were joking about last night, the connection did occur to me, ..." and she grinned: "... and then I especially liked my idea of serving them, ..." and she grinned again: "... and of course after what you said about a second helping in your room." This time I started laughing, and she joined in. 

"We just have to work on the flavor," I said: "... the capers aren't quite the right thing, ... but very good with the "fiskeboller." 

She chuckled with a nod, and I said that I especially liked her salad with a lot of dill in the dressing. She smiled appreciatively and said that they used dill with many dishes in Norway. Then, while we ate, she asked about my job, and I told her, and she told me that in the fall she was going to university in Oslo, studying "Anglistik", and that she hoped to be able to spend a year in England, "to improve her accent," explaining apologetically, that at the university they preferred the Queen's English. 

To that, I smirked and replied: 

"Then I hope you can really do it 'in English', like Lady Chatterley." 

She nodded and smirked, and then agreed: 

"Me too, but for now, doing it in American English is better, ... and I don't think the forester's Yorkshire dialect is what they would like." 

She smiled, and added: 

"But Lawrence makes him quite attractive, sweet, for being so ... rustic." 

I looked at her questioningly. 

"You know, ... oh, you haven't read it. He puts flowers in her hair," and glance down.

I nodded, envisioning the scene, as she continued: 

"You couldn't do that with me," then grinning and adding: "but I could with you: little spring flowers: violets and forget-me-nots. I was trying to think of some others that were small like that, that wouldn't be too big and fall out."

She smiled, and I chuckled, appreciating the thought of her envisioning flowers nestled in my pubic hair and suggested: 

"Lilies of the valley, maybe?" 

"Oh yes," she agreed with delight: "... the others are both blue. I wanted another color, like a row of white lilies of the valley across the top." 

We both snorted at this image, smiling at each other, and she added: "That would be fun, trying to get them in place," and we both chuckled at the idea, smiling again.

"You must have been reading a lot," I remarked. 

She smiled, a little abashed, and admitted: 

"I cheated, but then I went back to the start and really started to read it. It's good." 

"You can read it to me, if we get bored."

"Hmmm! More fun telling you whatever comes to mind."

We smiled, and I said "skaal," and we drank to that, smiling again. We finished eating, and I thanked her for the meal. She smiled and said: 

"Vel bekomme," that I interpreted as something like: you're welcome. 

"Oh? In Norway, we always say 'takk for matten' after the meal - 'thank you for the meal' - and Mother - or the hostess - always replies: 'vel bekomme,' ... something like: I hope it was good." 

I nodded as she went on: 

"That was nice that you said so. The first dinner here, I automatically said 'takk for matten,' and then had to explain it. Your mother thought it was a nice expression, but I was embarrassed that it had just slipped out when your father and sister said nothing, ... which at that moment struck me as rude. Sorry, ... different customs." 

She smiled apologetically and then added: 

"So I especially appreciated that you said something ... and the response just slipped out. You said I was the hostess tonight."

"And a charming one," I replied as she looked a little uncertain after this explanation, and then I raised my glass - suddenly thankful for Dad's advice to always leave a little in it, in case a toast was offered - and again said: "skaal," looking at her, and she blushed and raised her glass and responded: "skaal," looking in my eyes, and we drank, and then looked in each other's eyes again before we put our glasses down, and she was still blushing as she almost whispered: 

"That was just right, almost too right." 

She smiled at me very sweetly and explained: 

"I remember the first time someone 'skaaled' me, my uncle at a party, the first time I was served wine, and I blushed then too." 

Martha smiled again and said: 

"It wasn't 'too right,' it was just ... "too right."

She smiled at this contradiction, and I did too as she tried to explain: 

"Just right, just too appropriate ..." and she smiled in her search for the expression she wanted: 

"... so surprisingly appropriate ... here," and she glanced around: "... thank you. Vel bekomme." 

With this return to her first response, we got up and started clearing the table in silence. I was thinking that I had had a nice lesson in Norwegian etiquette and very luckily done the right thing. In the kitchen, she smiled at me as though she were still appreciating that I had surprised her with my responses after the meal. 

The atmosphere between us as we silently cleaned up was different from what I had expected. Whatever she was thinking, she didn't say anything as she started to wash the dishes - instead of putting them in the dishwasher - making me think that maybe it was a reflex from her home. I started to dry them, and she smiled like that again, and I wondered that we both seemed to have forgotten about going naked, that it seemed, somehow, as though we were both anticipating whatever would happen next as though it were the first time, as though, somehow, the dinner had been the real start of our relationship. It was a nice feeling, a subtle erotic feeling as we exchanged smiles, better than if one of us had suggested: "Now we can take them off again."

As I was drying the last dish, she suddenly asked softly without looking at me: 




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.



Martha in America Ch. 03



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.

Then I thought that it was a good idea to go too, and went in the sink, rinsing him and the sink when I had finished, and wiped him off with the dishcloth, snorting slightly at the thought that it would be used again - but only to wash dishes for us, so it didn't really make any difference.

She came back, nonchalant, despite her nudity, smiling at me, but the sight of her coming into our kitchen that way accentuated the awareness of my own nudity in the otherwise so familiar surrounding, making me a little embarrassed - not at her presence, but at being like that in our kitchen. But it was nice that she seemed comfortable with it. Or maybe she didn't as she looked at me with a wry smile and asked: 

"What do we do now?" 

She grinned a little sheepishly before she added: 

"It's too early to go to bed, ... - Hmm! - and we've sort of done that already."

I could only agree with a nod and an impulsive snort. 

"Have another beer?" 

"Yes, that's a good idea." 

As I got them, it occurred to me that she never said "yeah" like my sister or another American girl would - or I did. I opened them and handed her one, and then we said "skaal", and our smiles were different than before: not quite smirks, more as though we had winked at each other. 

"And now'?" she asked. 

"I don't know," I replied: "... whatever you want to do. I guess we could watch TV." 

"I'll get the towel I used," she replied and went off, while I went and turned on the television, remembering that that was how it all had started the previous evening.

She returned with the towel as the picture on the TV came up, spreading it out on the sofa where we had been sitting the night before. I sat down in the corner of the sofa, and then, before she could sit down next to me, I turned and spread my legs, inviting her to sit between them. "Oh, yes," she agreed; and did, nestling herself back against me before either of us considered what program was on the TV station. It was a film or detective series, but as my hand slid around her shoulder and held her breast, it wasn't very important. We watched it and sipped our beers, more aware of the comfortable position we were in.

"We got a TV for the Winter Olympics," she volunteered: "... to watch the Norwegians win - but only black and white." 

"And did they?" 

"Of course. "Our school champion almost made the team." 

"Like me," I replied, and took a sip of my beer, suddenly wondering if drinking beer with the girls I had made love with had had a negative influence on my training. She chuckled and said: 

"Good athletes are good lovers," and then added:

"You should have made the team," and held my leg as she took a sip, too.

I thought she meant that as a compliment, and liked that it had occurred to us both to think about love making, although my thought had sort of contradicted hers.

"Tell me about your family," I suggested. 

"Oh, my father works for an insurance company, and my mother started working again last year, when I finished school as a ... for a dentist, like she had before we were born." 

"As a dental assistant?" 

"Yes, a dental assistant." 

"And your brothers?" 

"The elder one is almost finished with his studies, economics I guess you call it. He wants to work for a bank, has during vacations. And the other one will start studying when he has finished his military." 

"Military service." 

"Yes. ... I missed him when he went away for training, ... maybe more than my parents did." 

"You were pretty close." 

We had a sip of our beer. She glanced back at me, and then rubbed my leg with a soft snort and agreed: 

"Yes, I guess we were ... are."

Her correcting the tense made me wonder why she had done so: the "are" to cover for a more specific "were"? When she took another sip of beer and didn't say anything, while I did, somehow seemed to confirm my thought.

"Yeah, I guess," she repeated, and my first thought was that it was the first time I heard her say "yeah", and then my second one was that she was thinking about something specific, something apparently nice, if they had been close enough for her to want to distract from it, but then her "Yeah, I guess" didn't suggest anything, unless she wanted to pursue the subject, maybe from our situation.

"Um-hmm," I responded, wondering what hers would be. She rubbed my leg again and had another sip of her beer, and then snorted again softly and glanced back at me again and said: 

"Once at the cabin - we three children share a room, but my eldest brother was away on their school summer trip before "artium," our school graduation. I was thirteen. One night there was a thunderstorm, really violent, like sometimes in the mountains, and lightening struck a tree near us with a great light and crash of thunder, completely frightening me. The boys had a double bunk and I, a bed under the window. I was so frightened that I just ran and jumped in my brother's bed. He had the lower one. And he held me - like a big brother should. After a few moment, he said I should turn over, and I did, clasping his hand, just so comforting after being so scared by the lightening and thunder. He whispered something about also having been scared, but he had been the big brother I wanted, needed at that moment." 

She glance back at me again before she continued: 

"Oh, nothing happened. He had just done the right thing, and I liked him better for having done it. Oh, we still argued with each other after that, but it was different then."

"A cathartic experience."

"What's that mean?"

"Hmm? Not quite sure: an experience that changes something for the better; I think just for the better."

"It was. I guess he liked it too, since we fell asleep that way. Would have surprised our parents, but we woke up early, both a little surprised. We didn't do that again.

She glanced back at me again, and I nodded with smile. She nodded and after a moment said. "Maybe my dream last night was a little ... , you know, ... trying to avoid being too obvious."

I nodded and agreed: 

"They can be like that, at least you remember them that way, or don't, like you said, till the recollection is so vague that it doesn't matter." 

She nodded with a smile and then chuckled when I felt her nipple tighten in my palm as she glance at me with a grin, and then asked: 

"Why am I telling you this?" 

"'Cause I asked about your brothers, and this is what you wanted to tell me, it seems," 

She snorted and thought for a moment and then nodded slightly and agreed: 

"I guess so. Yes, it was a little too personal to tell anyone else, and then sometimes you completely forget ..." 

"Conveniently," I interjected. 

"Um-hmm. Hmm! Like when I was telling about us in the mountains, never told anyone about that either.

She looked at me, and then smiled, and I squeezed her breast, and she snorted softly and said: "Yes, like that. ... Towards the end of the next summer, my mother said I had to start wearing a bra when school started, and bought me a couple. One day, after we had been swimming in the fjord and were back home and had showered, I suddenly wanted to try one on, and then wanted to show him. I guess I really wanted to show him me - that I was big enough to wear it - or just wanted him to see me in just panties and the bra." 

We both chuckled, and she went on: 

"I just went in his room, the door was half open, and he was standing in his underpants and looked startled when he saw me, and I was a little embarrassed, but it was a nice feeling too, seeing him looking at me like he was - a nice feeling in my new bra, my nipples. I wonder if he could tell? We just stood there for a moment, staring at each other, and I went back to my room, wondering why I had gone to his. 

She looked at me as though she were wondering what I was thinking, and I told her: 

"I guess a girl just wants to show her first bra to someone; best to show a brother." 

"Something like that. We never mentioned it, but when he looked at me on the way to school the first day, I felt my nipples and blushed."

"Growing up?"

She chuckled and nodded, then murmured: 

"You're a big brother." 

This was getting ticklish! I sure was, but not how I could tell anyone! But I had to say something: 

"She didn't show me hers." Just told me she was going to go topless!

"And didn't ask you anything about boys?"

"Did you ask him?"

"No."

"Maybe she asked her sister, easier than asking me." 

"Of course," she agreed with understanding smile, but then remarked: 

"I could imagine that with her figure, she really need one before I did."

"She did, but you do too, now. No, you don't, really." 

I fondled her nice firm breast. She nodded slightly and murmured: 

"Thanks," but then added: "She told me that she was thinking about going topless in France, if any of the other girls in the group did."

"She did? She wants to?" I prevaricated.

"She was thinking about it, asking if I had, if I thought all the girls in France did."

"Have you, do they?"

"Yes; I don't know. She was worried about looking like she never had before."

"I won't ask how." 

"Martha smirked slightly and said: 

"She said that she was hoping to ... 'practice' with her girlfriend on Fire Island."

"But she wasn't out there with her."

"But she was with you."

"Yes, my birthday present for her, after she suggested it would be better than the just big-brotherly hug she had first wanted."

"She wanted one too, and a lot bigger brother?" 

"But then just a week on the island."

"But still wanted to 'practice'?"

"Don't ask. Yes!"

"Hm-hmm! She did?"

"Couldn't stop her. Hm-hm-hmm! Getting a girl's bra off can sometimes be difficult ..."

"I saved you the trouble," she interjected with a grin.

"Thank you, but the idea of forcing her to put it back on ..."

"Seemed like almost as much fun?" she interjected again with a grin.

"I didn't."

"Could have been like a big-brotherly hug."

"She didn't want one, not like that."

"Oh, she did want one, just not like that? Must have been interesting."

"Sisters aren't suppose to go topless with their brother."

"I would have liked to."

"Maybe you still can."

"Oooh! You want me to?"

"Maybe not, for his sake."

"He would like it too much? ... Did you?"

"He's a man, isn't he?"

"Not as well-built as you are."

"And you're not as - quote - 'well-built' as she is, but that doesn't matter, either way."

"It doesn't. Sure, I would let him see me topless now. Hm-hmm! Have to remember that I said that."

"And make it 'interesting' for him?"

"Oh, like that? She did, and ... well, it was 'interesting' for her too?"

"If she wanted to go topless and was wondering how boys - men - in France in their tight briefs would be."

"She talked about that? Want another beer?"

We emptied our cans, and I sprang up to get them, hoping my cock's wagging a little wouldn't suggest that it knew more about how 'interested' it and I had been - more like just "how!" I returned with two opened cans, not having had enough time to sort my various thoughts. 

Would I admit to everything? She seemed sympathetic from her remarks about her brother. But one just can't tell anyone that one had sex with one's sister! But I had already admitted that she had been interested in seeing that I was aroused. Had Martha understood that? It seemed like it, but would she already be assuming more? Hell! No, it had been more like heaven; how could she not assume that a week like that wouldn't have led to something?

I was back, handing her her beer and saying "skaal." She responded, no longer sitting under my arm. We smiled, and were silent for a moment, her nipples popping out, before she murmured: 

"I wouldn't mind if my brother wanted to."

She suddenly blushed and murmured: 

"I said that?!" and gave me a very wry little smile.

I nodded, and we looked at each other, shrugging slightly. I guess my expression keyed off something; we both suddenly started laughing, pure nervous release. Her breasts jiggled so delightful. We caught our breath and looked at each other again with quizzical expressions. I murmured: 

"Something like that, if that's what you meant."

"Hmm? I guess so? Vague dreams."

She just looked at me, not asking about my "something like that," but it had pretty much admitted everything. I nodded slightly and repeated: 

"Something like that, wanting to, more her wanting to."

She nodded again, and murmured: 

"After what I said, I guess you know I was thinking so, and thinking about him, and thinking, well, it must have been inevitable, ... and, well, if it happened ...?"

"It did. Hmm? Easier than trying to put her top back on. I didn't try to. But, well, we did, and of course then I wanted to."

She gave me another understanding smile and nodded with another shrug and replied: 

"If you both wanted to, I can understand. Nice for you."

"Um-hmm, and especially nice that you feel that way."

She nodded with smile, and we almost spilled our beers as we embraced. We had another sip, and then she said:

"I've got to go." 

I nodded again, and she got up, handing me her beer and smiling at me before she went off. I got up and turned off the TV and took the towel from the sofa and turned off the lights. I took another sip of beer and took our half-empty cans to the kitchen before going to my bathroom. I then thought to take my razor to shave in the morning and went towards her room. She met me in the hall, as though she had been on the way to my room. 

"Yours, your bed is bigger," I suggested. 

She just nodded with a smile, and we went to her room, to her bed in the dark, lying down and drawing the covers up, and then kissing again as our hands immediately slid down and held each other. And they were both wanting it as I wondered what she wanted to do, how she wanted to do it.

But she asked first: 

"What do you want to do," and then chuckled deep in her throat and added: 

"I never asked that before, didn't imagine we had a choice, ... and usually he was already ..." 

She broke off her sentence, either because it didn't need completion or because she felt that it was tactless to mention doing it with someone else at that moment. 

"I wasn't going to ask you," I replied as my finger moved gently in her. 

She sighed with each breath, purring in her throat, enjoying it for a few moments, and I was enjoying it too, feeling her soft, smooth, moist pussy around my finger and feeling her fingers on him.

"Maybe we both want the same," she murmured and purred again.

I nodded, exchanging purring sounds with her. 

"What about some desert," I suggested. 

"Umm-hmm," she agreed, adding a chuckle to her purring: 

"I was thinking of that too; after the first course, and the main course, that would be an appropriate way to finish the dinner." 

Then she snickered and added: 

"something with a creamy filling." 

I snickered and agreed: 

"For you, maybe an éclair. I want a piece of hair pie," using a vulgar expression that seemed especially appropriate at that moment. 

"Hair pie?" she repeated.

I hadn't expected her to know the expression, but then after she had said it herself, she snickered and asked: 

"Do guys call it that?" 

"When they're thinking about having it for dessert," I answered. 

She snickered again and said: 

"As long as you don't eat it with a fork." 

She was already starting to turn around under the covers. And then I was showing her how I liked to eat hair pie, and she was doing things that one doesn't do with an éclair in company, even if one especially likes the sugar or chocolate coating, but if one did, it would be the best way to enjoy it, and she was, and her éclair was too. And my hair pie was enjoying it too, suddenly reminding me of the bottle in Alice in Wonderland that said: "Drink me. Drink me." But my pie was saying: "Eat me. Eat me," and I was doing everything I could to fulfill its request, thinking it was some sort of a cherry cream pie, but the only cherry I could find, no matter how I sucked on it, and no matter how much the pie seemed to want to let me have it, I could only nibble at it with my lips. And she was having a similar problem, wanting to taste even more of her éclair's coating, not satisfied with just licking around the end of it, but seeming to want to taste it further up along it, and it was trying to help her - like my pie was. But it tasted so good, that for a while I gave up on the cherry and sought a fresh taste of its delicious, slippery crème, trying to get more of it from deep in the pie, but then it wanted me to try get that little cherry again, and I wanted to, too; it was just so enticing the way it tried to help me when I sucked on it, like her éclair was trying to help her. It wanted her to find as much of its coating as she could. And when it realized that she couldn't find any more, no matter how hard they both tried, it felt like it wanted her at least to have some of its crème for her effort, and when she moaned in appreciation, it gave her some more, and she liked that too, so it gave her even more. And then it was as though my juicy pie knew what it was doing and wanted to reward me for trying so hard to get the cherry and gave me a taste of its wonderful, juicy filling, coming all warm from deep inside it, like from an oven-warm piece of pie, hot and sweet, and then again, while it still wanted me to have the cherry, And then it seemed like her éclair and my hair pie suddenly gave up on their efforts to satisfy us, holding still as Martha and I sighed with deep moans.

And we were satisfied, so satisfied that we just lay there; her strong thigh was an even better pillow than that of my sister, and I was almost asleep when I felt her free my head from between her thighs, and then felt her éclair slip from between her lips, flopping down, as though it had lost its coating and the crème stuffing that had made it hard and full before. With this thought, I dozed off.

I was awakened by her gently slipping her thigh from under my head as she started to turn around. I moved back up onto the pillow as she lay down with her back to me. I moved closer to her and put my arm around her and found her breast with my hand. She chuckled and murmured: 

"A chocolate éclair. That's what I was thinking of, a cream-filled chocolate éclair." 

"Me too, or maybe just a sugar-coated one." 

"I like chocolate," she murmured and purred like before. 

"It felt like it. I was thinking that you were trying to lick it all off." 

She snickered softly and agreed: 

"I was. Thank you. Good night." 

"Thank you too, and sleep tight," I rejoined, and then snorted and asked: 

"Or should I have said 'takk for matten'?" 

She snickered, almost laughing, and replied: 

"Vel bekomme. ... Maybe I should have. Takk for matten." 

"Vel bekomme." We both chuckled and then were silent.

We must have slept well; I didn't remember having woken up in the night, when I woke up the next morning, lying on my other side, but this time I immediately knew where I was before I opened my eyes. And when I did, I knew it was still quite early and knew Martha was lying behind me. I snorted softly as I remembered our "dessert." But then I felt that I had to use the toilet and tried to slip from under the covers without waking her, glancing back to see her lying there before I went to her bathroom, but then decided to go to my own in order not to wake her.




Martha in America Ch. 03



When I returned, she was still lying like I had remembered, but her eyes opened and she said: "I missed you, wondering where you'd gone, and when." 

She held open the covers for me, revealing her breasts, and I crept back into bed with her as she straightened out her legs to make space for mine as she lowered the covers around me, leaving her arm on my side. 

"Good morning. ... Just now. I didn't want to wake you. Did you sleep well?" 

"Um-hmm, you too, I hope." I nodded. 

"I was dreaming about you and your sister, ... or maybe dreaming that it was me ... and my brother. ... Yes, somehow it was at home, in one of our rooms, but it was you and she. Funny." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, wondering what my sister and I had been doing in her dream, something that she wanted to do with her brother but suppressing that by seeing us do it instead. In a dream you don't see yourself. Curious, at the risk of having to tell more about my sister, I went ahead and asked: "And what were we doing?" 

She looked at me for a moment with a little smile and then said: 

"Too vague, maybe not wanting to watch you with her."

"Kind of you. I wouldn't want to watch you and your brother either." 

"I wouldn't want you to either!"

"Bad, good enough that we both could want to."

You can say that!" Martha agreed in a pure New York accent that reminded me that I had become so accustomed to her slight Norwegian one, that I usually didn't notice it. 

We chuckled, and then her hand slipped down and fondled him. She asked: 

"Are you an early riser?" 

"Hm-hmm, sometimes he rises before I do." 

"He?" she asked as she fondled him, and then snorted and wrapped her fingers around him and said: 

"Oh, he?" as she squeezed him, and I nodded. 

"I didn't know that. Hm-hmm! Gives you something to do until you get up. Hm-hmm." 

"Um-hmm. If you want to." 

I rolled on my back and when my hands urged her to move on top of me, she did so immediately, with her legs outside mine as she grinned down at me, and then we were kissing. Then he was up between her legs, and I suddenly wondered if she would react like my sister had done if he touched her. She was pressing her pelvis down against me as we kissed. I rolled my hips up and he touched her, sliding up a little, and she chuckled softly as her tongue moved in my mouth, and when I did it again, she arched her back, raising her hips a little, but not enough - he slid up again. And then I felt her knees press down to raise her hips a little higher. Yes, she did! And when he pressed against her again, and didn't slid up, she chuckled again softly, holding her hips still, waiting for him to press again, for him to find her opening, and he did. Just like with my sister, she let him move in her slightly, her tongue still as she held still and let him rub just inside her. Yes, just like my sister had! And then - just like her! - she couldn't stand it any longer and rolled her hips down and let him go deep into her.

"Hm-umm," she chuckled and started to kiss me again, but then her hand was searching for a rubber under the pillow, and when she found it, she raised her hips, and he slipped out of her, and then we quickly had it on him. She snickered when she felt how slippery he was, but then he was back in her. She had drawn her knees up, and I sat up, hugging her to me as we kissed again, and then I was sucking her breasts, letting her lie back in my arms, and then in just one as my other hand slid down, encouraged by her nod, and then it found her asshole, and then we were fucking, and kissing again, until she was only gasping with her aroused "Oh, oh-oh. Oh!" as she started to come, and then with more like that as I came too, and then we were just holding each other, she with both her arms around my neck and her calves clutching my hips.

After a few moments, she raised her head from my shoulder and said brightly: 

"I wasn't really sure we wanted to do it ... after last night." 

She kissed me and added: 

"But then, ..." and she snickered: "... what you were doing ... we just had to." 

As I nodded, she smirked and added: 

"Real fucking good," and smirked again with a snort. I snorted too and asked: 

"Where did you learn that?" 

"Hmm! Hm-hmm. On the street, ... on the streets of New York. ... I was shocked the first times I heard it, but now it seems most appropriate." 

I nodded with another snort, and she snorted softly, too, and added: 

"I suddenly wanted to say it. ... Why not? If we do it, and it's that good?"

"Um-hmm, you're right, thank you. It was real fucking good." 

Martha snickered and then grinned and said: 

"I bet your family doesn't know you use that kind of language." 

"I hope not!" 

We both snickered, and he slipped out of her, and we snickered at that, and then got up, while it occurred to me that my sister did know I used that kind of language - or had I?

As I dropped the rubber in the toilet, she snickered again and stepped into the tub, and then looked surprised when I joined her, but then snickered again with a nod, and we both went, grinning at each other and watching each other, and she was surprised again when I aimed him up at her, but then snickered again, seeming to enjoy it. And then we showered together. As she washed him, she murmured: 

"I guess you've done this before ... and that," and she glanced up at me. 

I nodded, hoping that my having done it with another girl didn't upset her, but she just snorted and remarked: 

"She must have been sort of like me." 

"Um-hmm, ... 'real fucking good', ... if you don't mind my saying so." 

She snorted, and then we finished showering, and she watched me shave, and then we dried ourselves off in silence.

I'll make breakfast while you get dressed." 

I went to my room, wondering if she was going to get dressed. But then when I was half-dressed, she came to my room in the dress she had had on the evening before, reminding me at once that we had left our clothes in the kitchen. She held out mine in her hand as she snickered and remarked: 

"There must be some funny people living here. Look what I found in the kitchen." 

"Hmm!? Funny, but real nice." 

"Um-hmm. ... Hm-hmm, I think we took care of October in one night." 

She grinned as she put my things on the chair. And then she went back to the kitchen before I could reply. 



She had made soft boiled eggs - two for me. At my questioning look, she chuckled softly and said: 

"They say if men eat enough eggs, they want to do it. Or maybe it's that they can do it more. I guess it's the protein." 

I chuckled with her as I recalled an article that told that in New Guinea, the natives thought that having children came from eating pork, something they only did at feasts. 

"Thanks, I replied with a grin: "... maybe it's true, ... can't hurt," and then told her about the article. 

She laughed, and then as we ate, I remembered that I had said that I would take her to the Oyster Bar, and then remembered that oysters also had a lot of protein - and that they were also supposed to be an aphrodisiac - probably for that reason, too - but it suddenly occurred to me that it was probably more because their soft, slippery form suggested something about a woman's aroused pussy. I didn't mention that, but did remind Martha of my promise to take her to the Oyster Bar, wondering if in Europe people thought they had the same effect. 

"Oh yes," she agreed, and we agreed that it would avoid her having to cook dinner. I wondered if her slight snicker indicated that she was just thinking about our saving time that way, or if it confirmed that in Norway people believed oysters had the same effect.

She decided that she would go to the Brooklyn Museum, pleased then at remembering that it would have been closed the previous day, Monday, so she couldn't have gone anyway, something that hadn't occurred to her when she had been thinking about doing so. We agreed to meet at the Oyster Bar at six thirty, and then, after I had brushed my teeth, we kissed, and I squeezed her breast, and then suggested that she should wear something else. 

"Of course, ... and a bra too. I think some people noticed yesterday ... but it was sort of nice." 

I chuckled and glanced down at her nipple, obvious under the thin cloth of her dress, and agreed: 

"I can imagine. New York is not Oslo. Lucky guys there." 

She snickered again, and then I was off to work.

The most interesting thing that happened that day at the company was that a manager took the student help to lunch and talked about the firm. The members of the group also got to know each other a little better, about as many girls as guys, and not unattractive girls. But with Martha at home alone with me for the rest of the week, I wasn't too interested in other girls. 

Martha was waiting discreetly for me when I got the Oyster Bar in underground passage of Grand Central Station, window shopping in the area. I wondered if she expected a kiss in greeting, but she stuck out her hand with a smile, and when I reached out mine in a reflex, she gave me a firm handshake, much firmer than an American girl would. And then we went into the Oyster Bar and found seats at the bar.

She had obviously already looked at the menu in the window, immediately remarking that she hadn't known there were so many different kinds. When we got the menu, she thought they were all pretty expensive, wondering at the differences in prices, but I told her emphatically: "I'm treating tonight," and then explained that some varieties offered came from further away, airfreight, and that some were rarer, and then we agreed to start with half a dozen each of two different types. But then the waiter suggested we could a share a mixed dozen, sampling four types, so we did that and ordered two draft beers.

When the beer was served, we skaaled properly, and then the oysters were brought, a ring of a dozen on a tray of ice, obviously four different types from their size and their shells.

"How do you eat them?" Martha asked, looking at the tray a little wonderingly and glancing at the variety of condiments: ketchup, horseradish, Tabasco sauce and lemon. 

"Mother insists on eating them straight," I replied, immediately wishing I had left her out of my explanation: 

"... without anything, but dad and I like them dipped in a mixture of ketchup and horseradish with lemon juice and a dash of Tabasco sauce, and some people like to just squeeze a little lemon juice over them." 

"Oh. Well, ... I'll try them your way first," and smiled at me. So I mixed up a little dish of everything and then suggested that she choose one.

She smiled at me again, a little uncertainly, and picked up her oyster fork and chose a smaller one as she asked before she put her fork in it: 

"And they were just alive?" 

"Um-hmm, ... but they don't move." 

She glanced up at me again, as though that was what she had been worrying about, and put her fork in it, and looked a little relieve that I had been right. 

"They're kind of slippery, ... sort of like you are." 

She seemed to understand immediately, giving me a quick grin, and then as she stirred her oyster in the sauce replied just as softly: 

"'No worse than oysters or beer.'" 

She grinned again and remarked: 

"So I don't have to like them, even if I like the other." 

"But since you do, you will probably like them, too," I rejoined. 

She smiled at me and put it in her mouth, holding it for a moment and then chewing thoughtfully as I watched her for a moment and then also chose one of those she had taken.

"Your sauce is sharp," she commented, as I dipped my oyster in it: 

"... but I liked it. Kind of hard to tell how the oyster tasted, but it wasn't bad, no worse than "fiskeboller" probably." 

She smiled at me as I ate my oyster and nodded with a smile. 

"May I have the last one of those?" 

"Of course," I agreed, and she grinned and whispered: 

"I want to try it 'naked'," 

and put her fork in it and put it in her mouth, smiling at me as she ate it, and then smirking as she swallowed and then asked softly: 

"I'm like that?" 

"Better," ... all smooth and slippery ... and taste even better, ... and are so juicy." 

She smirked again with a little snort as it occurred to me that the proper way to eat oysters "naked" was to slurp them from the shell, to also get the juice. 

"If you like them 'naked', people who like them 'naked' eat them straight from the shell, to get the juice." 

She snorted again with another smirk as I took one and demonstrated for her, letting the oyster and juice slide into my mouth, wondering if everyone else - the men, anyway - had the same thought that had just occurred to me.

"And your mother prefers them that way?" Martha asked and grinned. 

"Hm-hmm. Um-hmm, but I doubt for that reason." 

We both chuckled, and then she tried one that way, her eyes smiling at me as she tilted the shell up to her mouth. She chewed and swallowed it and then whispered: 

"I like oysters, especially now that I know why you do," and smirked again. 

"I'm glad, ... but that hadn't occurred to me before, ... just now ... with you. I may forego the sauce in the future." 

She smiled, and her thighs moved slightly, and then she whispered: 

"Later, I think I'm all slippery. It would be a shame to waste your sauce now." 

We shared a quick grin, and then she said "skaal," and we had a drink of our beers.

Then we ate the rest with sauce. I was planning to eat something else after the oysters, but we agreed to have another dozen, and she told me about her visit to the museum, snickering when she told me about Rodin's over life-sized statue of Balzac, expressing her surprise that Rodin would have sculpted him that way and that the statue would be shown in an American museum.* We order a second beer when the oysters came, a different selection of four types, and enjoyed them with and without sauce, only suggesting with our eyes the innuendoes we were sharing. 

* "Monument to Balzac" [Readers may enjoy finding websites to this and other works of art mentioned.]

"Takk for matten," Martha said when we had finished, and I remembered to say "Vel bekomme," and we finished our beers with a final "skaal" after I had paid.

Then we were walking back to our apartment, just glancing at each other as we strode rather than strolled, and I appreciated her nice gait, the way her legs swung from her hips, different the way City girls walked, somehow sensually animalistic it seemed. In the elevator, we just smiled at each other, and then in our apartment - although it seemed so obvious what we both wanted to do - neither of us knew quite what to say. After a moment of silence, she said: 

"I want to change," glancing down at her skirt and blouse, and then added: 

"Oh, call your parents. Your mother reminded me yesterday that you should." 

"Um-hmm, ... thanks." 

My sister answered the phone, very nonchalantly with an "Oh, hi," when she heard my voice and asked how my job was. I told that it was fine and asked how things were going with her as I looked at Martha. She plucked at the top button of her blouse, and I nodded, and she went off to her room as my sister replied and then asked: 

"Do you want to talk to Mother?" 

"Not especially, ... but if she does, otherwise just give them my love and tell them that everything is fine here." 

"She does, ... here" 

Then my mother was on the phone, asking about my job, and then about what we had had for dinner. I told her about Martha's fish dumplings, and she appreciated my description of them, but thought I had to been too generous by taking her to the oyster bar, but I countered that I thought she should see something of New York that she wouldn't otherwise, and my mother seemed then to agree. By then, I felt that I had to go to the bathroom, especially when I heard Martha flush the toilet, and was relieved that my mother finished the conversation, asking me to call the next evening. "Love to Father," I replied, and then could hang up.

When Martha heard me going to my room, she called: 

"I'm going to take a shower." 

"Good idea," I called back as I started to unbutton my shirt. 

"I'll wait for you," she called back. 

"I'll hurry," I replied, and did, taking of my shirt and jacket together as I got to my room and the rest as fast as I could, and then had to hold my cock to be sure I didn't drip as I hurried to her bathroom.

She was already standing naked in the tub, snickering when she saw me. 

"I have to go," I said as I stepped in the tub with her. 

She snorted when she saw me start as soon as I let go of my cock, and chuckled when I directed my stream up on her again, and when I tried to reach her breasts with my stream, she snorted again, but then stooped down so that I could, seeming to enjoy it - yes, definitely, cupping her hands under her breasts to catch it as she glanced up at me with a sort of surprised smile. And then we showered with lots of intimate contact, and I remembered to shave, and she snickered as she watched me.

Then we were drying ourselves, both of us smiling a little and making purring sounds, pleased, mildly aroused, animal noises. We knew what we were going to do next. 

But Martha asked anyway: 

"And what are we going to do now," as she smiled again mischievously. 

"It's too early to go to bed. ... Maybe we should have dessert. ... I mean, we really didn't have much to eat; maybe you want something else before we go to bed." 

She tried to repress a snicker as she grinned with a nod and agreed: 

"That would be a good idea. What would you like ... for dessert?" and she grinned again. 

"I was thinking more about what you might like;" I replied, and then snorted and added: 

"If I can give it to you." 

She almost laughed, but then answered: 

"I'm not sure. I don't think I want the same thing I had last night. What else can you suggest?" 

She snickered and hung up her towel and took mine from me as I nodded with a grin and agreed: 

"No, that would be boring. I don't have much of a choice to offer. What about a banana?" She snickered as she hung up my towel and I added: 

"That's not much of a dessert. I think the one ... the only one in the house isn't very ripe. You know, not soft and sweet, probably pretty hard." 

She snickered and glanced down at him and then back up at me with a grin as I continued - liking the simile I had found: 

"Maybe it won't taste so good that way. Oh, I know - if we have any - you could have it with chocolate sauce. You like chocolate."

Martha grinned and nodded and replied: 

"But I've never had banana with chocolate. Is that something American girls like?" 

"I've never offered it to them," I answered with a chuckle, and she giggled and responded: "I'm not sure I would like that ... but I know we have some." 

"Oh, that's good, You didn't know if you would like oysters before, either. I bet you would like a banana with chocolate sauce on it; sort of like a banana split without the ice cream and whipped cream." 

She snickered and replied: 

"I never had one, but we also have some whipped cream - a spray can. I think I would like to try it; sounds like a very special dessert. But what about you? What would you like for dessert?" 

Martha looked at me with a more serious expression on her face. 

"I don't know, ... I don't usually have dessert. I think I'll just watch you enjoy yours, and then maybe something will occur to me." 

She snickered with a grin and remarked: 

"I hope so. I feel kind of funny eating when people are just watching me. ... But if you want to ..." 

I nodded and asked: 

"Where's the chocolate sauce?" 

"In the kitchen, in the fridge," she answered.




Martha in America Ch. 03



We went there, snickering a little on the way as I wondered suddenly that only then I recalled my Diotima's [reference to another story, maybe not yet submitted] chocolate sauce dessert and knew then what I wanted for dessert: a juicy piece of Martha's hair pie with whipped cream, and then chuckled again at the expression "whipped cream" - guys could whip up their own ....

Martha got the little can of Hersey's chocolate syrup and the can of whipped cream from the refrigerator as I sat down on the table. She turned back to me, snorting with a smile at seeing me sitting there, and then glanced down and said: 

"My banana doesn't look so hard now," and then chuckled and added: 

"but maybe it's sweeter when it's soft, like you said. It looks sweet." 

She chuckled again as she put the cans down on both sides of me.

"You better get a chair, if you're going to have dessert," I suggested, and she did, snickering a little as she sat down in front of me. She glanced up and asked: 

"Do you know what you want, yet?" 

"Um-hmm, ... another piece of your pie with whipped cream. I don't think chocolate would go well with it." 

She nodded with a chuckle as she looked back down and murmured: 

"I want to see if it's as sweet as it looks, first." 

She raised him up, her fingers still cool from the can, and then with another glance up at my face she leaned forward and took him in her warm mouth, her tongue immediately exploring under his knob.

"Uhmm," I sighed. 

He liked that, quickly responding, and she nodded, and I sighed again and said: 

"It's not going to stay soft and sweet for long." 

"Uhn-unn." 

He didn't, surging in her mouth as I watched her, seeing the corners of her lips suggest a smile in response as she gave a soft "uhn-hnn" in agreement while her tongue continued to arouse him. Her fingers found my balls and gently moved them. 

"Maybe when it tastes salty - that's not sweet - would be a good time to let him cool off and put the sauce on him so you can really have your dessert." 

Martha nodded and then seemed to want that to happen, holding up her other hand for the little can as she moved her head on him. I handed it to her, and she let him slip out of her mouth, giving me the briefest of smiles before she looked back down at him, and then when he moved, held him with her other hand and carefully poured a little of the chocolate on him - cold chocolate syrup. The brown liquid slid down around his head and into his groove as she put the can back on the table. She just shook her head when I offered her the can of whipped cream. The chocolate was already beginning to drip on the floor as she took him back in her mouth.

"Mmmm, all warm again," I murmured, and then her tongue was moving on him as she chuckled deep in her throat, and then she was obviously enjoying trying to get all the chocolate off him, turning and moving her head, and he was enjoying that too, even though her attention wasn't directed at him. 

"Good?" I asked, and she nodded quickly. 

"He thinks so too, ... if maybe for a different reason." 

She nodded again with another deep chuckle, and then after a few more moments of trying to get all the chocolate, she concentrated on him, moving her head on him so I could see him going in and out between her lips and feel him moving in her mouth, it making me sigh again. 

"Oh yes, that's good!" I murmured: "... that's the dearest thing you can do, wanting just to make it good for me. But you know I want to do it to you too, just as much, and just as good." 

Martha nodded, and I continued: 

"I just love to eat your pussy, just love your pussy, just love the way it looks: your hair not trying to hide it, ..." 

Talking about it was good, distracting me from what she was doing, giving me something else to think about, but what she was doing was real good.

"... rather suggesting: Here it is, a lovely mature pussy, too attractive to be concealed by lots of hair. We're just here to let you know it's a ripe pussy, that doesn't mind that you can see it - maybe even wants you to - and certainly wants you to appreciate it ... any way you want to. ..." 

Martha was almost laughing but continued to suck him.

"... any way. It wants that, 'cause anything you want, it wants. It wants it to be good for you, and then it will be just as good for it." 

Martha nodded with another chuckle, and then I added: 

"And it will be, like what you're doing to your banana, ... or is it an éclair now, full of white crème?" 

She nodded again. And then we were both wanting it, only aware of him in her mouth as she made him surge, and my whole body was tense as I watched her, now holding her head, and I could see that her nipples were all aroused as my hips involuntarily moved him in her mouth.

"Oh, ... yes!" I gasped: "...So good! ... He wants to give it to you," and she nodded slightly. And then he did as I gasped: "Uhnn! ... Uhnn! ... Like that! ... Uhnn! ... So good! ... Uhn-unnn!" and I held her head still and sighed as my body relaxed.

"Oh yes, ... that was so good, ... thank you," I murmured. 

Martha nodded, still holding him as I felt her tongue moving, and then she tilted her head up, letting him slip from her mouth, and looked up at me and nodded with a funny smile and then kissed him. And then it seemed as though she couldn't resist taking him back in her mouth, holding him again as her tongue caressed him gently.

I chuckled and murmured: 

"That's not fair, wanting a second helping before I've even started on my dessert." 

Martha nodded with a chuckle, but then sucked him deep into her mouth one more time before letting him slip out as she looked up at me again with a grin and replied: 

"And I want to give it to you." 

She stood up, letting me draw her closer with my arms and calves as she raised her head and kissed me, letting me slide my tongue back and forth on her lips and the tip of her tongue, chuckling as I continued, and then asking softly: 

"Is that the way you want to eat your pie?" 

"Um-hmm," 

"Then hurry, ... it wants you to have it."

Then she was lying on the table and drew her thighs up, holding them as they sagged to the sides. I sat down, and then moved the chair back and dropped to my knees, my gaze held by the view of her open pussy that she was so unashamedly presenting to me.

Had she ever looked at it with a mirror, I suddenly wondered. It was more attractive than my sisters - at least at this moment - with its just light covering of fair hair, almost like my Diotima's shaven pussy, but more naturally attractive, not needing to be shaved to reveal itself, or did the pussy I was looking at always seem the most attractive one?

And it looked like it wanted to be eaten. And I wanted to eat it. I almost forgot about the whipped cream but then reached for the can. She snickered, and then when the cool cream touched her, she started with an "oooh!" and then I had my face in the cream, lapping it up, trying to get it all until there was only her pussy to lick. 

"Oh, yes, ... it loves to be eaten." 

"Better than oysters," I replied.

And then as I continued, she sighed, purring, just enjoying it for a few moments while I delighted at tasting her again after the whipped cream, and then she murmured: 

"You were right. That's the dearest thing you can do, just giving, just letting me - giving me - all the pleasure, ... in a way better - dearer - than ..., at least the way they did it at home, wanting it themselves."

I nodded, and for a moment she just purred appreciatively, but then went on: 

"That's the way I was thinking about it while I was doing it, that I was doing something special for you, ... doing it especially for you, knowing it was being so good for you ... however it feels." 

I nodded again as she snickered softly and added: 

"But, of course, I was enjoying it too. Yes, I was enjoying it so much, so glad that you were letting me do it ... kind of funny ... real nice, that you were letting me do it so that it could be good for you."

I nodded again, delighted at her expressing just the way I felt: I just loved to do it and loved to let a girl enjoy it, loved to let her enjoy it without her or my caring about whether I was going to come or maybe had already. 

And she was enjoying it, purring and sighing, just letting it be good for her, letting me try to make it as good for her as I could, anyway I could. And I wanted to lick her asshole and pushed her thighs further back, rolling her hips up, and slid my tongue down to it. 

"Oooh," she murmured softly and then whispered: "If you want to." 

I did, wanting her to like it, wanting to feel it move, and it did as she sighed sharply with another "oooh!" and for a few moments she let me enjoy that and enjoyed it herself as it moved some more, and then I had my mouth back on her pussy, and she murmured: 

"There's just nothing you don't enjoy or like to do when you're aroused." 

I nodded with an "uhn-hnn," and then I was humming as I did everything else I could to let her enjoy it, and she was: sighing and purring, and then moaning as her pelvis moved, and then her thighs jerked and started to quiver as she gasped out: "Oh, oh," gasping and moaning as her thighs quivered, and then she started to come - all her sweet love juice! Better than oysters! And when I thought she was finished, she started all over again, her "ohs" and moans melding into an aroused whimper - like a small child's - that just couldn't be stopped, and then she gasped: "Fuck me! You've got to fuck me!"

Surprised at her demand and choice of word, I stood up and almost did; I wanted to, and she seemed so desperate to have it, but we needed a rubber. 

"I will," I promised: "... just wait."



Martha in America Ch. 04



I nodded with an "uhn-hnn," and then I was humming as I did everything else I could to let her enjoy it, and she was: sighing and purring, and then moaning as her pelvis moved, and then her thighs jerked and started to quiver as she gasped out: "Oh, oh," gasping and moaning as her thighs quivered, and then she started to come - all her sweet love juice! Better than oysters! And when I thought she was finished, she started all over again, her "ohs" and moans melding into an aroused whimper - like a small child's - that just couldn't be stopped, and then she gasped: "Fuck me! You've got to fuck me!"

Surprised at her demand and choice of word, I stood up and almost did; I wanted to, and she seemed so desperate to have it, but we needed a rubber. 

"I will," I promised: "... just wait." 

She looked a little disappointed, but nodded, and I ran to my room with him bouncing and found one and rushed back as I got it out and started to put it on. She had her hand on her pussy, her finger moving in it, and then her hand guiding him, and then he was in it, deep in it as she moaned and it clutched him. And then we were fucking, and she was still almost as aroused as before as I squeezed her flushed breasts as she wrapped her arms and legs around me, kissing, with her tongue fucking in my mouth. Then she began to whimper again as her pussy held him, squeezing him again and again as he moved in her quickly, and then coming again, as though she hadn't already, her thighs quivering as she rocked her hips up to meet his thrusts, and then he was coming as her pussy clutched and spurted until she almost cried out: "Nok! Jeg kan ikke mer!" and relaxed under me.

Of course, I didn't understand what she had said, but from her reverting to Norwegian and the situation, it must have been something like: Enough! I can't any more! She still had her feet locked behind my back as she breathed deeply under me a few times, and then she squeezed him again and he slipped out of her, and she snorted softly and opened her eyes and smiled with an expression of satisfaction as she sighed and murmured: 

"Oh God, I wanted it! Just couldn't get enough, ..." and a another smile passed over her lips: "... just had to have it this way too. But then it was enough, ... thank you." 

I nodded and she snorted again with another smile and added: 

"The more I get, the more I want. You're spoiling me. ... I never did it so much with anyone before ... and certainly not so good. ... Hm-hmm! No one did it so good, ... or let me do it so good, ... like I said, ... when you were doing it."

"Um-hmm," I agreed with a nod and smile: 

"I liked that, ... just the way I felt, just wanting to do it for you and appreciating that you were letting me do it, wanting me to." 

She snorted slightly again with a nod and another little smile. I stood up and she sat up, and then she looked down at him and chuckled, and reached down and slipped the rubber off and held it up, reminding me of my sister as she looked at and then snickered and asked: 

"Can I have my second helping now?" 

"If you want, ... I guess," I added to suggest that her remark had surprised me.

For the same reason I repeated in a more questioning way: 

"If you want?" She looked at the rubber and its contents for a moment, and then grinned at me and replied: 

"I do," and snickered: "... that's how much I like it, ... better than beer or oysters, but I like them too." 

She smiled at me as she as she put the rubber in her mouth. 

"Then you must really like it." 

Martha nodded and raised the end of the rubber and slid her fingers down it, letting me watch her shove the white fluid into her mouth. 

She snorted and smiled and then swallowed and snickered as she said: 

"Getting it both ways. Now I want a beer." 

"Me too," I agreed, and went to the refrigerator and got two cans as I wondered how many other girls liked "a second helping" like that, if I knew three that did: just the very good ones - or the very bad ones - no, just the very good ones from my experience.

Martha had gotten off the table, when I turned back to her, and grinned, saying: 

"We better clean up here before we spread it around. Give me the hand towel." 

I grinned and agreed: "Yeah, I guess so," and handed it to her. 

She dropped it on the floor and wiped it around with her feet, then wiping her feet on it, and then picked it up and wiped the table as she said: 

"I'll do some laundry on Friday," and left the towel on the table and took the opened beer can that I offered her.

"Skaal," we both said and drank and then looked at each other again, smiling, and both snorting slightly and then almost simultaneously asking: 

"And what do we do now?" and then laughing at our joint remark. 

Martha responded before I could think of a reply: 

"After beer and oysters and that, ... with chocolate ... - Hm-hmm! - and a second helping, there isn't much else we can do, ... isn't anything better that we can do." 

"Not that I can think of;" I agreed and had another sip of my beer. 

She nodded with wide eyes and had a sip, too, and then suggested: 

"Maybe it was the oysters ... that made me want it that much." 

"I hope so, ... I didn't plan it that way, but it sure was good." She nodded with a smile.

Then she came and put her arm around me, holding her warm body against mine, and murmured: 

"I've just got to feel you." 

I put my arm around her shoulders, liking that she had bridged the physical gap between us that I had also felt. 

"Um-hmm," I agreed. 

"I know," she went on softly: "... my mother was right. ... It's just for now ... maybe that much ... so ..." 

"Intense?"  

"Yeah," she agreed, smiling at me: "... for that reason." 

"Um-hmm, ... to enjoy it while it lasts, knowing it won't be forever, but maybe more intense ... just for that reason." 

She hugged me and then offered a skaal with her free hand, and we drank again. 

"Yes, like that," she agreed, and then snickered to my surprise and remarked: 

"There's a Norwegian song that starts: 'Skal vi väre dus, bare for i kweld?' Shall we use the familiar ... second person - you know: du in German or tu in French - just for this evening? It's like that, just for more evenings." 

"And maybe more intense," I suggested. 

"Not just maybe," she replied, and we hugged each other again and drank to that without a skaal.

I liked that she had said that, appreciating that girls seemed to be more outspoken about clarifying "ticklish" situations, and then hoped we both could manage the situation later. We finished our beers, still with our arms around each other, in silence, and then Martha murmured: 

"I guess we can go to bed." 

We disposed of our beer cans and put the chocolate syrup and whipped cream back in the refrigerator, and she picked up the rubber without a comment, and then we turned out the lights in the kitchen and living room, and I told her I would join her and went to my room and got two more rubbers and then went to the bathroom and used the toilet and washed him, and then went to her room. She had turned off the lights already, so I felt my way to her bed. She had left the covers open for me, and then drew them back over me, and then we were lying in each other's arms with our legs interlocked, and with a kiss said good night and went to sleep.

When she rolled over in the night, it became involved in my dream, something nebulous about my sister, more about a vague fear of my mother discovering us, without my quite knowing why. I dreamt on, that the safest thing to do was stay hiding under the covers with her, now that her turning over had made it apparent in the dream that I was in bed with her - settled comfortably under my arm - very comfortably as he slipped between her thighs.

And then the dream sort of faded out, but then it resumed again when I felt her fingers on him, pressing him up as she moved her hips, and he slipped into her - still in my dream - and I approved without any erotic thoughts, thinking in my dream: yes, hide him there, and then no one will know what we're doing. Satisfied with this solution, the dream faded out again.

And faded back in again as she rocked her hips a couple of times: nice sister, letting him hide in her, and in my dream I helped move him in her, taking turns doing that a couple of times. Slowly I realized that it wasn't a dream, but was still thinking she was my sister, liking the way she had intruded in my dream. And we continued taking turns rocking our hips, just letting it feel good; he wasn't going to do anything, just enjoy it, and I chuckled slightly at my thought in the dream that her hiding him there would have avoided anyone's recognizing what we were doing.

Suddenly the sound of a police siren made me aware that we were in the city - not on Fire Island! God, were we at home, doing it at home?! I froze, not returning the movement of her hips. No wonder there had been something upsetting about my dream! Her hand slid back over my hip and held me to her.

Then Martha's voice softly asked: 

"Don't you want to?" 

It all came back to me: Martha and I alone at home; my sister only a dream; everything was all right. Immensely relieved, I nodded and replied: 

"I was still sort of dreaming, until the siren woke me up," and then moved him in her again. "Doing this?" she asked and snickered and then rocked her hips again and then added: 

"I'd better not ask." 

I rocked mine again, wondering that I hadn't recognized that it wasn't my sister's breast that I was holding in my hand as I rubbed her nipple, and she chuckled in appreciation. And then we were more active, until I had to hold still and murmur: 

"We better find one."

Martha held still, too, with a nod, and I felt her moving her hand under her pillow, and then she nodded again and started to put it in my hand, and then murmured: 

"I'll do it." 

She unwrapped it, and I drew him out of her and she reached behind her hip and put it on - with more experience than I expected. Then he was back in her, and we started again, taking turns as before, but now with out my fear of discovery. Then I had my hand on hers on her pussy as both our hips were moving at once as I slid down the bed a little to let him go deeper, and then both our fingers were moving on her. She snickered softly as hers moved just as eagerly as mine. And then we were just silently fucking, wanting to come.

Not really silent, of course, both of us purring as we sighed and as he moved in and out as our fingers shared space on her aroused little swelling. Mine tried to follow what hers was doing, thinking that she knew what was best for her, and it must have been: she was soon gasping and her pussy clutching him, and moaning with her little "Oh, oh-ohs," and then I started to come, and she did too, her love juice spurting out as her pussy clutched him again and again until she finally pushed my fingers aside and held her pussy with a deep, moaning sigh and relaxed.

I slid my hand up to her breast - suddenly wondering if her brother had held it after the thunder storm, and relaxed. God, it had been a relief to discover that it had only been a dream! I dozed off.

When I rolled over later, I reached down to adjust my balls, and discovered the rubber. This time in my half-sleep, I was fully aware of where I was and with whom and slipped it off and dropped it on the floor. Martha then turned over, but didn't put her arm around me, and we dozed off again.

When I woke up again, she did have her arm around me. I opened my eyes and saw that it was very early still, much too early to worry about having to get up - a nice feeling. When she moved her hand a little, I thought she was probably also awake and put my hand back and found her hip. 

"God morgen," she murmured, letting me wonder where she thought she was. Then she murmured: 

"Good morning," and slid her hand up to my breast. 

"Good morning to you, too," I replied and slid my hand further over her hip. 

She snorted - I felt her breath against my back - and then asked: 

"Have any more good dreams?" 

"Hmm! Hm-umm. One like that a night is enough, ... especially if it turns out that it wasn't just a dream, ... thank you." 

"Hmm!"

"And you?"

Martha snorted again with a soft snicker and replied: 

"My brother, ... not doing it, ... Hmm! ... I think I was wanting to do something to him - for him - but it was kind of vague, like you said. Yes, sort of a continuation of what I told you, when I was fourteen, and ... maybe of what you told me, ... about your sister, topless. Hmm? ... Maybe dreaming of what I might have wanted to do if I hadn't left his room."

"Wanted to show him your aroused nipples?" 

"Hmm? I don't know. A year or two later, I might have, at least, wanted to.  

We both chuckled, and she held herself closer against my back, and I held her hips closer to mine. I was liking that she had admitted that she would have liked to have done more with her brother, making it seem less unusual that my sister had with me - and I with her - and that she had understand that we had without being completely shocked.

She squeezed my breast and murmured: 

"You're the kind of brother that would make a girl want to." 

I squeezed her ass and replied: 

"Depends on the sister. Mine used to be pretty bitchy."

"Bitchy?" 

"Cranky, contrary, ... you know, like teenaged girls can be." 

She snorted and then after a moment replied: 

"But she wasn't being 'bitchy' when she got you both to do that." 

I nodded my head. After a long moment's hesitation, she asked: 

"Were you dreaming about her?" 

"You weren't going to ask, but yes. Not very nice to admit that, sleeping with you" I replied, feeling myself blush.

"That's all right; we shouldn't be, either. Just don't tell our parents."

"Oooh! Don't mention them!" 

"Sorry."

I nodded my head, and we were silent for a few moments. Martha hugged me to her again and kissed my back and said:

"Did you have Latin in school?"

I nodded again, wondering what the connection to our situation could be.

"Carpe diem," she responded with a chuckle. I nodded and replied: 

"More like 'carpe noctem', but we did it ..." I bit my tongue. She rubbed my chest and replied: 

"I'm sure it was good, ... knowing you. Lucky, like I am." 

"And like I am with you, luckier, not so fraught with other thoughts."

"'Fraught'?

"Burdened."

"Oh, of course. Must be a verb form of 'freight'."

"Probably; you know more about English than I do. But I still have to face my parents."

"Oh, not so good. Hmm? Tell them it was my fault, that I seduced you. I sort of did."

"Too easily to count as seduction."

"Um-hmm! Thank goodness."

"You wanted to?"

"Thought about it as soon as I heard that your parents were going to leave us together."

"Your mother wouldn't have liked that."

"She is far away." 

"You're lucky."

"Carpe ... What's the word for dawn?"

"Aurora."

"Carpe auroram:"  

"Your Latin is better than mine."

"But you knew 'aurora'."

"Not from Latin, from a novel by Sinclair Lewis, 'Main Street'. The name of a soap is Aurora Dawn, and they complain about the duplication."

"At least, I have heard of Sinclair Lewis. Carpe auroram."

I rubbed her ass again, reaching down under the curve of it this time, and she pressed her thighs up against mine with another snort and chuckle as she slid her hand down and found him and my balls with her fingers, massaging them. We chuckled, and she moved back from me a little, suggesting that I roll on my back, and I did, and then moved and rolled over towards her, finding her breast, murmuring: "Carpe auroram," and we kissed, briefly with our heads on the pillow, and then I rolled her up on top of me, and then we really kissed.

When she felt him, Martha chuckled and murmured: "It's kind of funny to think that you were probably like this with her." I had to nod, and she chuckled again and added: "Maybe I'm a little envious, ... my brother," and then she started kissing again, still chuckling at first, and I was full of appreciation for her sympathetic understanding as our tongues caressed each other, but then we were only conscious of each other, interrupted for a few moments to find a rubber.

When it was over and she had come back to herself, she murmured: 

"I love to fuck you, ... love you to fuck me." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, feeling the same way: 

"... both ways, ... and I hope we each love someone who loves to as much." 

"Um-hmm, ... and as well." 

She kissed me, but then a tear dropped on my cheek. I hugged her, feeling a couple in my eyes in sympathy, and murmured: 

"Me too. Making love this good just makes you have to love each other a little. That's what the expression says." 

She opened her eyes and looked at me and nodded, looking real serious for a long moment, and then smiled - maybe a little forced - and agreed: 

"I guess it does." and then smiled more broadly with a snort and repeated: 

"Yes, I guess it does. We just did it - at home - but not good enough to count as really 'making love', like that, ... like this, ... with you," and she kissed me again.

And I kissed her, and then better, enjoying our consensus about "making love". Then she wanted me to suck her breasts, drawing herself up on me, and they wanted to be sucked and nibbled on, all stiff and aroused, and he was all stiff and aroused again as I was sucking her other breast then, wondering if she wanted to "make some more love" as my hand slipped down over her ass, between her thighs, immediately finding her warm, moist pussy. Martha chuckled warmly in appreciation, and then snorted with a sharp "Uhmmm!" as I found her aroused clitoris, and then chuckled again and murmured: 

"I want a third helping of dessert." 

"You're greedy, asking for it." 

"I know," she replied: "... bad manners, ... especially in Norway. You never ask for seconds at home - or accept them - until the hostess has offered three times, so you know it wasn't just politeness, that there really is enough so that you can accept." 

"Hm-hmm! Maybe there won't be enough for a third helping." 

"That doesn't matter. ... Hm-hm-hmm! I'll just pretend there is - Hm-hmm! - just go through the motion of eating it." 

"If you want to," I agreed with a chuckle.

She rolled off me and sat up and turned around, snickering again as we both saw him, standing up with the rubber still half on. Martha snickered again as she lay down across the bed with her upper arms on my stomach and thigh, and then as she pulled the rubber off him, letting it slip up between the fingers of her other hand, she said: "Maybe this is my third helping and I'll pretend that I can have a fourth one."

"You are greedy," I replied as she already had him in her mouth with the creamy fluid she had squeezed out of the rubber, and she nodded with nice feeling "uhnnn-hnnnnn" as her tongue explored. Then she let him slip out of her mouth and licked up the drops in my hair, snickering to herself, and then she had him back in her mouth, taking him real deep once, and then I drew up my thigh and rolled towards her, reaching out on the bed to hold her waist, drawing myself towards her as she rolled back, raising her thigh and letting me draw her hips to me as she slid her other thigh up under my head. 

And then we were both looking for a last helping of dessert - licking for a last helping - and enjoying doing it, and enjoying even more having it done, wanting to give it to each other, both ways - to get our desserts and to give them to each other. When I started to stroke her asshole, I felt her snort, and then she let him slip from her mouth and murmured: "I will, too; I want to," and licked over my taut sack as she pressed her head deeper between my thighs, and I did the same as she rocked her hips forward to let me find her asshole with my tongue as I felt hers on mine. And she seemed to be enjoying it as much as I was, both of us letting the other feel it move. But then she was licking my balls again, trying to get one in her mouth, sucking and then succeeding as my mouth slid back to her slippery pussy and I felt her chuckling as her tongue moved on it, thinking that it had been a good idea to let me cool off a little, to let my sack relax.




Martha in America Ch. 04



And she seemed to enjoy doing that, too. I certainly was enjoying it, and enjoying lapping on her moist pussy. Then she had him back in her warm mouth, wanting her dessert, and I felt her chuckle again and wondered if she was thinking the same thing, but she was going to have to work for it, like I was, and she knew it, too, sucking and licking and moving her head on him as I buried my nose in between her inner lips and sucked and licked her clitoris, delighting that I was making her press it up to me, her pelvis rocking against my mouth as she hummed, vibrating on my cock and making me move it in her mouth. And our hands were encouraging each other to move, and our fingers trying to arouse each other that way, too, not just trying to, making each other respond: my cock surging as I clutched her fingertip, and she clutched mine as her hips moved to press her aroused little button against my tongue. And then she was clutching my finger again and again, and I knew her pussy was clutching too, wanting to come, like my cock wanted to come, surging and moving as she sucked on it. And then it did, as I clutched more of her finger with a gasp and grunt.  She moaned as I came and clutched my finger as it moved in her, and then her thighs quivered and clutched my head as she suddenly spurted her sweet love juice in my face as her hips jerked quickly, spurting again and again, her aroused orgasm distracting me from my own, but I knew it had been good, and knew she had liked it as she moaned again and then just gasped in rhythm with the movement of her hips and the spurting of her orgasm.

We both just lay there, hugging each other's hips with both hands.

I almost dozed off, but then was awakened by her sucking and licking my soft cock as she chuckled - probably at its changed state. She let it slip from between her lips and chuckled again and said: 

"I think that was the last helping I can have." I snickered and agreed: 

"That's good, 'cause I don't think I could offer you another one." 

We both snorted. I kissed her pussy and said: 

"Good morning, again." 

"You, too," Martha replied, and then we got up.

Then we were in the bathtub, starting to pee again, and when I directed it up on her, she snickered, and then still going herself, dropped to her knees and said: "All over me," and cupped her hands under her breasts again, catching it as it flowed down from her chest. And then to my surprise, she lowered her face and closed her eyes and repeated: "All over," and I did, pressing the last of my stream up all over her face. She snickered with her eyes and lips still closed and then looked up at me, smiling wryly, and then got back up. I drew her wet body to me and kissed her, tasting my urine on her lips, and then licking around her mouth to emphasize that I was tasting it and then kissed her again, wondering if she could taste it on my tongue as she snickered. Then she slid one hand up her body between us, and with a glance up at me licked the drops she had collected from her palm. 

"Funny," she remarked with a smirk: 

"... doesn't taste like anything special, ... not like you ..." 

"Or you," I interjected. 

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a smile, and collected some more with her other hand and tasted it too with a snort. 

"Why did I suddenly want to do that?" she asked, more to herself: 

"... want you to do that?" 

"'Cause it's real intimate, ... wanting to have anything that has to do with it, ... maybe. Sort of like a dog marking his territory - wanting to be marked as belonging to me."  

Martha snickered and almost laughed, while I was wishing I had found some way of leaving myself out of it. 

"Yeah, maybe," she agreed with another snicker: "... I wanted you to do it, ..." 

"And I wanted to, too," I added,

"To mark me as yours?" 

"I don't know, ... maybe a primeval urge ... to let the other males know: this female is mine, I fucked her, ... and I want to fuck her again, so stay away, ... or watch out." 

Martha laughed, and I laughed with her, pleased with my story, despite the fact that it was skirting the delicate subject.

"I like that. ... Hm-hmm!  You must have done it before, if you thought about that," and she looked at me questioningly. I nodded and replied: 

"But that explanation just occurred to me." 

"Really? ... Other girls wanted it, too?" 

"A couple," I admitted.  

"Hmm! I bet. They wanted it as a sign that you wanted to do it again with them." 

We both chuckled, and then she added: 

"But you've got to do it every day; it washes off." 

I nodded with a grin, hoping that was her solution to the delicate subject, and it seemed the cue to start our shower.

When we had finished and dried ourselves, it was still very early, just after seven. Martha snickered and asked what I wanted for breakfast, not making any move to get dressed, so we went to the kitchen like we were, and I said that I would make a big omelette for us. Martha set the table and made coffee while I chopped an onion and a green pepper that I found, and some bacon, and then started the omelette, frying the bacon as I stirred four eggs. 

When Martha came and stood next to me, I put my arm around her shoulder and she held my waist - nice, warm and familiar, feeling her body against mine. But then I needed both hands again, and she tended to the coffee. And then we were eating, smiling - maybe smirking at our nudity. She complimented my omelette, and then we were chatting about her plans for the day again: going to the Met and maybe some galleries in the area, all within walking distance. She told me that in the museums in Oslo there were very few pictures by well known artists; Munch, of course, but then mainly those of artists known in Scandinavia, but then she enthused about something called the Vigeland Park, a creation by that sculptor of bronze and granite nudes, and explained the themes of the park.

Then we were finished, and Martha cleared away the plates and poured us another cup of coffee, and then, before she sat down again, asked: 

"May I sit on your lap?" 

I nodded with a soft snort and smile and pushed my chair back as she put her cup and saucer down where she could reach them and sat down across my lap. 

"Nice, good idea." 

"Um-hmm," she agreed, putting her arm around my shoulders and smiling at me, and then asked: 

"What was that for, what you did when I asked?" 

"The snort?" and I did so again. 

"Yeah, that, the 'snort,' 'pruste' in Norwegian," she replied: "... Why?" 

"A few years ago - four, five - my sister asked to sit on my lap. She didn't wait for me to ask why or say no, and then asked me to show her how adults kiss. I hardly knew myself, just hearsay. We didn't. She reminded me about that last week, when we were, chuckling and asking what might have happened if we had."

Martha chuckled with a grin and said: 

"Maybe a good thing that you didn't."

"Probably; she was thinking it could have been a lot fun – now, with hindsight." 

"Maybe I should have asked my brother back then, but I doubt that he knew, and I didn't know to ask."

"Just have to try; no prior experience necessary." 

We both chuckled, and again I appreciated that she had immediately referred to her own experience with her brother. We had a sip from our coffee cups, and she chuckled again as we set them back down. I held her breast, the most logical thing to do in the position we were in. Martha nodded, and we both had a sip of coffee. Then my hand was back on her breast, and she leaned against me, relaxing. I squeezed her breast. "Um-hmm," Martha responded softly. 

Then I remembered that she was going to the Met and recalled going there with my sister a couple of years after that, our mother's suggestion for a rainy weekend cultural afternoon. We hadn't been enthused by her suggestion, but went, walking the few blocks together under an umbrella. On the way, she had grinned at me and told about the first time Mother had taken her there, not avoiding the galleries with classical paintings of nudes. She had been surprised and embarrassed, telling me with a giggle that she had just started wearing bras. When I replied that I had also been embarrassed at about that age during a similar museum visit with Mother, we both had grinned and agreed to look at them again. "And men for me," she had said with a grin. 

She didn't get to see as much of nude men as she wanted, but but we saw plenty of Baroque breasts, slender Renaissance nudes, and nice 19th century French ones. I had to shush her wanting to remark about them, especially when she started telling me that hers were better or that the girls in a couple of paintings had her figure. I was supposed to know that? I hadn't needed her telling me. Mother had been delighted that we had spent so long in the museum and enjoyed our outing, without knowing why, of course.

With this recollection, I told Martha: 

"Once she and I went to the Met. You can do what we did, looking for breasts like hers, or like yours," and I fondled them both.

"You did that! Any luck? How old were you? 

"Hmm? Fifteen, seventeen?

"And you did that? Must have been interesting. Paintings or statues?"

"Both. Oh, we then looked at Greek vases and she got to see more of the men than on the paintings."

"Hmm! I can imagine! And 'like hers'?"

"One really perfect French painting, ... - oh - and another one, also French that she insisted was like her when she was fourteen."

"How was that? Not like me, although Edvard Munch painted a couple of girls that had about as little as I did at that age."

"But he must have thought it attractive."

"And hers?"

"If she was right, ..."

"You weren't looking?"

"Enough to know that she had more than a lot of girls in my class, but not undressing her with my eyes."

"You didn't have to. And the picture she liked?"

"Like halves of a grapefruit, ... not too large a grapefruit." 

"Hm-hm-hmm! And when she was fourteen? There really are some like that?"

"If she said so. In that picture, ... some very nice smaller ones, Botticelli, but not like hers. I seem to remember some painting or a drawing by an earlier French artist - seventeenth, eighteenth century? - that were, however, also of girls that looked her age, like the one in that other painting. I saw those pictures in books, not in a museum, however."

Martha snickered again and replied: "And you want me to look for them?" 

"Just for something to do in the museum. ... I know looking at the men isn't very satisfying."

Martha snickered again and countered: 

"You don't know what a girl's imagination can do, ... once she knows what one really looks like." 

We both chuckled, and I squeezed her breast again and held her hip a little closer with my other hand. "Um-hmm," she agreed again with a deep chuckle and then kissed me.

Then she was sitting astride me, and we were kissing again, and then agreeing that we should have a supply of rubbers in the kitchen, but then he was in her, anyway, as we kissed.

We didn't have enough time to finish. Maybe we both had sort of realized that when we let him slip into her, wanting to, not wanting to waste time getting a rubber, but knowing we would have to stop before he got carried away. We did, both a little disappointed, of course, but we would have had to stop for a rubber. She followed me to my room and watched me get dressed, her nipples stiffening when she saw me looking at her appreciatively in her nudity when I was tying my necktie. 

"Funny," she said with a smile: "... funny, feeling more naked when you're all dressed." 

"Nice, nice way to remember you during the day," I replied with a smile. 

She smiled and raised her hands to her breasts for a moment, and then asked: 

"What do we want for supper?" 

"Anything you want." She thought for a moment and then said: 

"Oh, I know. I'll take you to a little Norwegian restaurant. You took me out last night." 

"I'll take you."  

"No. A nice girl doesn't let the man pay for everything, ... at least not at home, ... if you know what I mean." 

"But nice girls do here," 

"But I want to, ... I'd feel better about it," and then she smirked and added: 

"... especially when I'm standing like this. It's cheap; I can afford it." 

"Okay, but then you'll have to wear something; you've got no pockets, like that." 

She snickered with a nod, and then I had to be off, agreeing to meet her in the apartment after my work, and we parted with a kiss and embrace at the door, wishing each other a nice day.

The best part of my day was recalling Martha: sudden images of her - not always nude, like when we skaaled in the oyster bar - but usually, and always when I went to the bathroom, and then was wondering what she was doing at that moment, and then wondering that I had told her about my sister and me, ... and that she had been so understanding, once smirking to myself as I wondered if she would tell me which artists had painted bosoms like my sister's "half grapefruits." 

Towards the end of the day I wondered if she would want to finish what we had started after breakfast before we went to the Norwegian restaurant, and it occurred to me that we could have a beer or two first, liking the idea as a way to reduce the cost of her invitation. And I liked that too, appreciating that her gesture - a Norwegian or European custom - avoided the impression that a girl was being "kept", especially in Martha's situation - with a sudden image of her standing there nude when she had invited me. Yes, that was nice, that she wanted to demonstrate that our lovemaking was entirely voluntary on her part. 

I had to smirk again - this time while I was collecting the last outgoing mail - it sure had been voluntary: her "I'll be in my room" the first evening, and her "hiding him" in the night, when I had been dreaming of my sister. Then I hoped I wasn't blushing at that recollection as I gathered another handful from someone's out basket.

On the way home, most of that went through my mind again, especially the question if she would want to do it again before supper, making me snort as it occurred to me that we must be in December now by her calculation of catching up on the sex she had missed during the winter - once a week! Wishful thinking! But she sure wanted to try! And I had to smirk again as I hurried back to our apartment, wondering how she would greet me - just at the door; or suggestively in some manner, maybe already drinking a beer, or the ultimate, already naked? But I doubted that - unless, maybe she had been home longer and reading again.

But she wasn't there when I opened the door and knew she would have at least called to greet me when she heard me - unless maybe she were sleeping. Or maybe just pretending to sleep, I thought, a suggestive alternative I hadn't thought of. I quietly went to her room, but no, her bed was empty, neatly made. As I took off my jacket and went to my room, I realized that the question had now turned to how I should greet her. At first, in my room, I thought that she had also made up my bed, but then remembered that I hadn't slept in it, but she had put away my clothes. I hung up my jacket and then decided that having a beer would be best way to suggest that we relax  - "relax"? - a little at home before we went out, but then on the way to the kitchen I heard her key in the door, and went to greet her.

"Oh, you're here already, ... sorry. I lost track of the time, ... looking for your sister, ... I mean, the artists." 

She snickered and held up a little bag from the museum's store. She handed it to me and said: 

"You were right, Botticelli's aren't big enough, shaped right." 

She snickered again, and I with her at this way of greeting each other and at her eagerness at following my suggestion.

"I've got to go, ... be right back," and went off towards her room. 

"Want a beer?" I called after her, and she called back: 

"Yes, please," and disappeared.

In the kitchen, I got out two beers and opened them, wondering if we should use glasses and go in the living room, but Martha joined me before I could decide. I handed her one and offered: "Skaal," and she responded and we drank, glancing at each other again as she said: 

"Good idea, just what I wanted." 

Then she saw the bag on the table and asked: 

"Haven't you looked at them yet? They're for you. ... Hm-hmm! I told the young man at the cash register that they were for my brother, because they reminded me of his girlfriend." 

I chuckled as she handed the bag me again and said "thank you" as I took out a few picture post cards, snickering then when I saw that they were all of buxom nudes or semi-nudes. "Right?" she asked, looking at me and then having a sip of beer. 

"Umm-hmm, very. How did you find them?" 

She chuckled and asked if we didn't want to go and sit down, so we went in the living room, but as we were about to sit on the sofa, I remembered that I should call my parents and did as Martha sat down and had a sip of her beer.

My father answered the phone this time, thanking me for remembering to call again, asking about my job, but then he sounded more serious as he told me that my mother had told him about my taking Martha to the oyster bar. "I hope it wasn't a date," he added: "... you shouldn't mix with the staff, especially ..." and he lowered his voice: "... with the two of you alone there." 

I felt myself begin to blush as I replied: "Of course not, Dad. Just like I told ..." He interrupted me: " Just as." "Just as I told Mother, I thought it would be nice for her to see some of New York that she wouldn't otherwise, ... and save her from having to cook every evening." He seemed to accept my explanation and asked what we were going to have for supper that evening. 

"It's another Norwegian specialty, she said," I lied, blushing some more: "... a surprise," pleased then with my prevarication as I saw Martha nod with an understanding smile at my predicament. 

"Um-hmm," he replied and then added: "Remember what I said." 

"Of course, Father," I replied: "... and love to Mother ..." 

Martha waved: "... and..." and then I thought better of passing on greetings from her - she should be in the kitchen - :  "and hope you are having a good time." He didn't seem to notice that I had changed what I was going to say and returned greetings from my mother, and then we hung up.

I took a long drink from my can, and Martha took another smaller one, looking at me questioningly. 

"I 'shouldn't mix with the staff'," I quoted for her benefit, and we both snorted, and then she chuckled, and then snickered, more than seemed necessary, but then I understood why when she said: 

"Of course not. You're supposed to treat an au pair like a member of the family, ... and that's all you've been doing ... just like another sister." 

"You tell him that."

We both chuckled, a bit restrained, and had another drink. I sat down and asked her about the pictures.

"First I went through the painting galleries. Hm-hmm! That painting by Courbet? The girl in the water?"

"That's the one, for hers then, she said. Same now." 

"Hmm! Nice! But as a fourteen year-old? Girls that age shouldn't be artists' models."

"Only for Munch in Norway?"

"Have to ask my brother if he likes her." 

"Or remembers you like that?"

"You want him to?"

"A little, after all you know about my sister and me."

She nodded with a smile and continued: 

"Lots of nice girls, some like me. I enjoyed looking at them too. But I could wonder how Mars and Adonis would have really looked in the situations they were shown with Venus." 

I chuckled as she went on: 

"And then in the store, I looked around, but didn't know where to start, and then thought of looking in a book that surveyed ... is that the right word?" I nodded.  




Martha in America Ch. 04



"... that surveyed renaissance and baroque art and found ... what you were looking for: Boucher and Fragonard, as you can see." 

[Interested readers will have to find the images themselves to see how my sister said she had looked at that age.]

I looked at the cards more closely. Yes, indeed, the girls really did have breasts like my sister had said hers had been. I nodded with a smile. Martha smiled too and remarked: 

"I thought so. There was a drawing by Boucher in the book that was even better - she really looked younger, a nymph, but a little too plump, but her breasts were nice 'half grapefruits'." 

She held her hand up and demonstrated their size. 

"Maybe" I replied, and we both chuckled, and then again as I held my hand up as though I were holding a breast and moved my fingers as though I were squeezing it, and then I turned my hand slightly and moved my thumb as though it had found the nipple. 

Martha snorted sharply, and I realized that what I had done could have been interpreted as a suggestion - an invitation, the suggestive something I had been wondering about on the way home. Martha snorted again with a smile and said softly: 

"You did that real good," and sighed and then took a deep breath, raising her breasts. 

I held my fingers a little closer - about the size of her breast -  and moved them again as I looked at Martha. She smiled slightly with a brief, deep chuckle and an "um-hmm."  

"Um-hmm," I agreed, and still holding my hand like that, put in on her breast, and it fit. 

"Just right," she murmured and smiled at me with another soft chuckle as I moved my fingers a little and squeezed her. 

"Um-hmm," she agreed again, but then added as I squeezed her again: 

"Don't wrinkle my blouse," and then she snickered and grinned as she added: 

"So my mother won't know," and we both snickered. 

"Is that what you tell them?"  

Martha just snorted with a little smile. I asked then: 

"And what do they do then?" 

She grinned and snorted again and replied: 

"The first one, the first time - I think I really meant it - stopped. That was no good, ... except for my blouse." 

I snickered, and she did too, and then continued: 

"But the next time, ... or maybe it was the next one, understood that it was only the blouse that I was worried about." 

I almost laughed and replied facetiously: 

"Oh, I understand. You didn't mind them holding your breast." 

Martha almost laughed too and nodded. 

"Like this," I suggested and started to unbutton her blouse. 

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a chuckle. 

"Oooh! Really?" I replied in feigned surprise, and then pretended that I was talking to myself: 

"Oooh, she's letting me go this far; I wonder how much further? Does she expect me to take off her bra, too? Do I dare? I need the rest of my beer."

Martha was snickering the whole time, and we quickly finished our beers, and, of course, she did want me to take off her bra. But first we rescued her blouse from any further wrinkles, but then there were no hesitations as we helped each other take off the rest of our clothes, she chuckling as she took my socks off and remarked with a snicker: 

"Funny, that was good. I liked that, wondering all day what would happen when we got home." 

"Me too, ... hoping it would end  - or start - like this, somehow." 

Martha snickered again and agreed: 

"It had to, since we both wanted it to. Just a question of how."

We were standing looking at each other. 

"And now? I asked. 

She grinned as she looked me up and down, but then sighed and looked back down at him, and one hand moved to her pussy, not to conceal it, as her other hand found her aroused nipple, squeezing it, suddenly reminding me of statues of Venus/Aphrodite. Then our eyes met again, and we exchanged slight smiles, and then she answered softly: 

"Like this morning." 

I nodded, and then we embraced and kissed, and I was wondering about getting a rubber, but then she murmured: 

"I put two in the table drawer." 

I nodded and kissed her again, and then we went to the kitchen and I drew out the chair and sat down, and she sat down astraddle me again.

Soon he was back in her, but I couldn't be as sure as in the morning how long he could be trusted, and then we had a rubber on him, and then he was back in her, and for a long time we tried just to enjoy that, tried not to do too much, but then her feet were up on the chair by myi hips, and we just had to, no longer able to restrain ourselves - especially me - but then she also started to come with her little "oh-ohs" - so less vocal than my sister, but just as aroused - her pussy clutching and moving on him as her love juice spurted, and he wanted to come again, but didn't, but that was fine with me, thinking that he would surely have another opportunity.

She was resting against me in my arms, her head on my shoulder, her feet back off the chair. Finally she raised it, and then squeezed him again with her pussy, making him slip out. She snorted softly and then gave me a kiss and chuckled and murmured: 

"It wouldn't be quite true to say that I was thinking all day about finishing this morning, but sort of." 

"Hm-hmm! Not all the time, ... me too, ... but wondering if we would." 

"We did," she replied with a grin: "... real good, worth waiting for." 

"Um-hmm, ... and now I want another beer," Martha nodded and added: 

"And then I want a shower." 

"Me too, with you," I agreed, and we both chuckled.

We got up, and I took off the rubber, wondering if she would want it, but she was already getting the beers. She snickered when she saw me put it on the table next to the pieces of the foil and then handed me a can. As we opened them, she glanced at them again and snorted and said: 

"That would make an interesting still life," and then looked back at me and said "Skaal." 

I snorted too as I responded, and then suggested a title: 

"The Proof of his Pleasure." 

"And of hers. But your suggestion is good enough." 

We drank again, and then I sat back down, and she sat across my lap as I put my hand on her hip and she, her arm around my shoulders. While we drank our beers, I told her about the sculptures my sister and I had found in the museum and our discussion of their merits, and Martha laughed at my quoting my sister's: "That's me, the all-American girl," and telling about her feigned disappointment that she had too much to be an artist's model for a classical statue and be immortalized in marble. 

When I had finished, Martha chuckled with a mischievous smile and asked:

"And how are mine," with a glance down at them.

"As if you didn't know after today, ... and you know I'm going to say that I like them."

"Hm-hmm! Um-hmm, but I'd still like to hear it."

I let her hold my beer and held one, knowing my hand would be cool from the beer.

"Oooh! Hm-hmm! I guess I knew you'd do that, too. And?"

"They really are as nice as any on classical statues or paintings of Venus or Aphrodite, and the best thing is that their yours, here where I can enjoy them."

I fondled them, arousing her nipples, and she responded with an appreciative little "mmm" and nodded and replied: 

"Um-hmm, and let me enjoy them, that you do that way. ... Hmm! Hmm? If you like nice, well-developed nudes, you should find works by Anders Zorn. He's Swedish, but he really liked to paint nudes, and nice ones, not hesitating to show their hair. Pity I didn't think about him in the museum; could have found a picture for you."

[When recalling our conversation, I found images of lovely nudes by Anders Zorn, and a painting by Pelligrini of "Venus and Eros" for which my sister could have been the model.]

We finished our beers. She took mine and got up and disposed of them while I went in the living room, thinking to get the other cans, and then saw our clothes and collected them and the cans and returned to the kitchen. She took them from me and put them in the bin, and then with a snicker picked up the pieces of our still life, and we went back to her bedroom.

By then, I really had to go to the bathroom, and found myself hoping that Martha did too, even though she had gone before - yes, I wanted to do that again, both ways. I handed her her blouse and skirt as I said: 

"I've got to go," and dropped our shoes and dumped the rest of our things on her bed. She glanced at me with a smirk as she finished hanging her blouse on the chair and asked: "Again?" and smirked. 

"Yeah, I want them to know that this female is mine, ... and want the females to know that she wants them to know that I'm hers." 

Martha snickered with a smile and nod as she agreed: 

"Oh, she does, wants him to, ..." 

She paused for another snicker and apparently to choose her words before she added: 

"... to do it all over again." 

With this confirmation of our intentions we hurried into her bathroom as I said: 

"He can't wait too long," and she immediately knelt down in the tub, looking up at me in anticipation as I stepped into it, closing her eyes for a moment, as though she were waiting to feel it on her face. 

But first she felt it on her chest and then on her breasts and down between her thighs, and then her eyes were closed again, and she felt it rise up to her neck and then over her chin, splashing all over her face, and her tongue slipped out from between her lips, licking for a moment, and then she opened her mouth, and when it found it and it was no longer splashing, she opened her eyes, looking up at me as it overflowed from her mouth, and then for a moment it was splashing again as she closed her lips, and then they were open again, until I directed it back down on her breast and finally finished. 

Martha just snorted and licked her lips with a wry grin as she stood up, again sliding her hands up from her hips to her breasts as she snorted again and then said: 

"You really want them to know that you want to do it again." 

"That much." 

"And I want them to know with whom," she replied, and snorted as she watched me sit down with my legs between hers. 

"Me, too," I agreed, smirking up at her. 

She nodded slightly and then closed her eyes as she relaxed. When it started, all warm on my chest, she opened her eyes again and looked down at me, snorting once, and then rocking her hips a little, but of course, she couldn't move her stream much. I lowered my face into it, letting it play on both sides briefly before I turned my face up to it and caught it in my mouth, all warm and inoffensive tasting, moving my face towards her pussy as I held her ass, and she spread her knees when she understood that I wanted to have my mouth right on it, snorting again, giving a last pulse to it as it petered out to a dribble and stopped, as my tongue lapped over where it had been flowing and she held my head to her for a few moments and let us both enjoy what I was doing.

Then she urged me to get up, still holding my head as I did, and then looked at me with a snort and another wry smile and murmured: 

"We like anything - everything. 'Smussig,' ... what's the English word for that? Wanting to do something like that?" 

"Um-hmm," I agreed and smiled as I slid my hands up to her still wet breasts: 

"... 'smussig?' ... probably that's 'smutty,' but 'raunchy' is probably the word I would use: something sexy, but a little beyond the normal." 

Martha nodded with a smile in agreement as I thought to explain it better: 

"Smutty is dirty, a derogatory word. Raunchy is just something others might not want to do." 

Martha nodded again with a grin and agreed: 

"Yeah, that's it - 'raunchy.' I had heard it somewhere, but didn't know what it meant."



Martha in America Ch. 05



She nodded slightly and then closed her eyes as she relaxed. When it started, all warm on my chest, she opened her eyes again and looked down at me, snorting once, and then rocking her hips a little, but of course, she couldn't move her stream much. I lowered my face into it, letting it play on both sides briefly before I turned my face up to it and caught it in my mouth, all warm and inoffensive tasting, moving my face towards her pussy as I held her ass, and she spread her knees when she understood that I wanted to have my mouth right on it, snorting again, giving a last pulse to it as it petered out to a dribble and stopped, as my tongue lapped over where it had been flowing and she held my head to her for a few moments and let us both enjoy what I was doing.

Then she urged me to get up, still holding my head as I did, and then looked at me with a snort and another wry smile and murmured: 

"We like anything - everything. 'Smussig,' ... what's the English word for that? Wanting to do something like that?" 

"Um-hmm," I agreed and smiled as I slid my hands up to her still wet breasts: 

"... 'smussig?' ... probably that's 'smutty,' but 'raunchy' is probably the word I would use: something sexy, but a little beyond the normal." 

Martha nodded with a smile in agreement as I thought to explain it better: 

"Smutty is dirty, a derogatory word. Raunchy is just something others might not want to do." 

Martha nodded again with a grin and agreed: 

"Yeah, that's it - 'raunchy.' I had heard it somewhere, but didn't know what it meant." 

She grinned again and added: 

"Like wanting to kiss someone who just did that," and she did - we did - both of us snickering a little as our tongues explored in each other's mouth.

"Raunchy," she said again, and I agreed: 

"Real nice and raunchy." 

she snickered with a nod, and then turned and leaned down to turn on the water.

After our shower, that was accompanied by more snickers, and my shaving, we dried ourselves, and Martha snickered again and said: 

"Now no one will know." 

"But I will still want to," I rejoined, and she nodded and replied: 

"That's nice to know; me too." 

Then I snickered and suggested: 

"You could try it at home, before a date. Get your brother to do it and then see if your friend acted different, more reserved, less eager." 

Martha laughed and replied: 

"Only, maybe, if I wanted to break up with him, - Hmm! - ... if it worked. But I don't know about getting my brother to do it; ... we'd have to sort of work up to it, ... like we did ..." "That could be fun, too," I replied with a grin. 

Martha just nodded with a smile and hung up her towel and started to wipe the bathmat around with her foot as I hung up mine, thinking that we had to be sure that we remembered to get my shaving things back to my bathroom.

We got dressed in her room. "No tie," she said, and then we were on our way. She held my hand in the elevator, but then understood that we shouldn't when going past the man at the desk and also on the street and then suggested, herself, as we walked north, that she could introduce me as a student from Colombia, if we met anyone she knew. I liked that - her perspicuity - and then asked teasingly: 

"And where did you meet me?" 

She grinned at me and then thought for a moment and replied: 

"I went up to Colombia on my day off once, and you just happened along." 

"Did you?" 

"Not really," Martha replied with another grin, and then we crossed 86th Street, and she led me to a little restaurant named "Christiania".

Martha explained that that had been the name of Oslo when Norway was ruled by the Danes and later until after Norway separated from Sweden.

It was a neat, simple place, and apparently frequented mainly by Norwegians, older immigrants and younger ones, or maybe just visitors to New York. The waiter greeted Martha in Norwegian, with a glance at me, and she said something in reply, and then we were sitting at one of the table, soon with bottles of Norwegian beer, and ordered our meal. She did, I agreeing to have whatever she wanted. She said it was a salmon soup, "or maybe a stew." While we waited for it, an older man came over, apparently recognizing Martha, and introduced himself in an strong accent as he sat down: 

"I'm Oystein. Where did you meet Martha?" 

"At Colombia," I replied, thankful for her suggestion. 

"Oh," he replied: "... very good university. You study there?" 

I confirmed that I did, and Martha said something in Norwegian. Oystein nodded as he started to get up and said: 

"We try to watch out for our young Norwegian girls. Don't want them to be getting in trouble. The big city, you understand." 

Martha glanced at me with a wry smile, as I nodded to Oystein, and she replied: 

"Thank you. I wouldn't have brought him here unless I thought he was nice." 

Oystein nodded and returned to his two friends as Martha winked at me. And then they were talking as Martha whispered: "I expected something like that."

Then our soup came, a hearty soup, a whole meal, and very good, although different from anything I had ever had - and better than fiskeboller. We chatted easily, and had another beer, and then Martha wanted to pay. I offered again to do so, but she insisted, which made me feel funny, but the waiter didn't seem surprised as she spoke to him in Norwegian, and then we were back on the street, holding hands, exchanging clasps as I thanked her for the meal, first in English, but then remembering to say "Takk for maten," and she clasped my hand again and replied "Vel bekomme." And in a few minutes we were back at our apartment, no longer holding hands as we greeted the man at the desk.

In the elevator, when she took my hand again, I wondered if the deskman would mention to my parents that we had been out together - but only for dinner - and then thinking that I could tell them that we had gone out instead of eating in. 

Then we were back in the apartment, snickering a little again as we looked at each other after closing the door. Was she also wondering if we were just going to get undressed and do it again? 

"We could do something else," she suggested with a smile, as though she had read my thoughts. 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, although it occurred to me to reply that we wouldn't "get to Christmas" if we did, but it was a good idea, and I added: 

"Yeah, we played backgammon and Scrabble ... my sister and I." 

Martha snorted again but only said: 

"I never played either, but I bet you can teach me how, ... too," and smirked at me. 

I nodded with a smirk of my own and then snickered and said: 

"But you may not be able to learn as fast." She snickered too, and remarked: 

"Maybe not, but then I can have something to tell that we did." 

"Me too," I agreed, and we and found the games in a cupboard in the library.

"Backgammon or Scrabble?" I asked. 

"Backgammon; we play Scrabble at home in Norwegian." 

So I set up the backgammon board and tried to explain the rules to her. And then we played a game with my helping her, and she learned fairly quickly, grinning with delight when she could send one of my pieces off the board. 

When the game was over, we decided to have a beer, and she jumped up and went to get them, pleasantly surprising me when she returned with them in glasses, not that I would have objected to drinking from a can in the library, but it seemed more appropriate, and I appreciated that she felt the same way. After we skaaled, we set up the board again and had another sip, and it suddenly occurred to me that we could make it more interesting by combining it with strip poker: taking off a piece of clothing for each piece sent off the board.

When I explained my idea to her, she just grinned and nodded, but then scowled and remarked: "That gives you an advantage," and thought for a moment and explained: "I've only got five pieces - with my sandals - and you have ..." and she thought again: "... eight, with shoes and socks." So we agreed that my footwear would come off in pairs, and started the second game.

When she had the first chance to send one of my pieces off, she asked if she had the choice of what I had to take off, but I replied that she didn't. It would be a risky move for her, but she took it, and I took off my shoes. Of course, I had to get the piece back on the board again, but I was lucky and could also send off the piece that she had just risked. For a moment, she fingered the buttons of her dress as she grinned at me, undoing a couple, but then took off one of her sandals. Then for a couple of turns, we protected our single pieces, and she got hers back in play, but then she had to leave one of her uncovered, but I couldn't remove it, but she couldn't protect it, and with my next turn I did send it off, risking two unprotected pieces, but by then we both understood that winning the game was less important. She grinned at me again and then pulled up the skirt of her dress and slid her hand up under it behind her back and with a little difficulty unhooked her bra, and then with some more difficulty managed to slip the straps through the sleeves of her dress and over her elbows and hands, and finally pulled it out the opened neck of her dress, grinning at me all the while. "La dolce Vita?" I asked. "Um-hmm," she agreed with another grin.

Then it was her turn, and she got her piece back on the board, but couldn't send off one of my pieces. We had another sip of beer. I threw my dice and then she grinned when she recognized that I couldn't send off one of her pieces and also could not protect my other piece. She had the good luck to send it off. I took off my shirt. The next couple of turns we played safe, covering our single pieces and trying to advance, but then when it was her turn again, after throwing her dice, she grinned at me and moved so that four pieces of her pieces could be sent off. 

"That wasn't very sensible," I remarked as I threw my own dice. 

Martha just grinned, and waited for me to move, taking off her other sandal as I sent off one of her pieces, and then snickering as she waited for me to remove another one, leaving two of mine then exposed. She undid another button of her dress, but then smiled impishly and reached under the skirt of it with both hands, leaning forward enough to shift her weight onto her feet for a moment as she slipped her panties down past her hips and sat down again and slid them down her thighs and over her knees and let them drop to her feet, and then picked them up and smiled at me.

She managed to get her pieces back on the board, removing one of mine, and I took off my socks, and with my move, I could have removed one of her pieces, but didn't. She had already undone another button in anticipation that I would, leaving her shirtwaist dress open almost to her waist. My move had exposed even more of my pieces, so she couldn't avoid sending off at least one of them, and then grinned and snickered and removed a second one. I had to take of my slacks and choose between my t-shirt and underpants. I teased her by taking of my underpants, stretching the hem of my t-shirt down to cover myself, and then tucking it under my sex as I sat down again.

She snickered, and we both had a drink of our beers with another skaal, and then I threw my dice, a luckless double that didn't let me play my pieces back on the board. She grinned and threw her dice, playing two pieces back on the board, but leaving two unprotected, and grinned at me again, waiting for me to throw mine. I had to play my pieces back onto the board, and had to remove one of hers, but she looked pleased, smiling at me as she pulled her skirt up from under her hips and then pulled her dress up over her head., smirking at me as she held it by the shoulders and shook it and then laid it aside.

She smiled at me in her nakedness, her light pink nipples nicely aroused. They really were perfect - on her - I thought as I sat up straighter and let my t-shirt slip up from my sex, sharing in her nakedness. She glanced down at him, and he stirred, and then I found my glass and offered: 

"Here's looking at you, skaal." 

She looked at me and raised hers and responded as her eyes dropped for a moment: 

"And at you, skaal," and we both drank and then looked in each other's eyes again.

She set down her glass and threw her dice, managing to get her piece back on the board but not to remove one of mine. But with my turn, I could send off another one of hers, leaving two more of mine exposed.

"What do I do now?" she asked. 

"Just let me enjoying looking at you," I replied, appreciating that her nipples had tightened again. She smiled and threw her dice and was able to remove two of my pieces, and grinned and said: 

"One for your undershirt and one for looking at you." 

I took off my t-shirt, and she was looking at me - looking at him. It must have been a very warm look; he felt it ..., and she chuckled softly and then asked: 

"And what do we do now?" 

"Finish the game." 

"Do we have to?" ... I can think of something better." 

"Me too," I agreed, wondering what form her reply would have. 

She looked at me with a smile and then a smirk and said: 

"I haven't had any dessert yet." 

"Me neither," I agreed, thinking that I could have anticipated her response. 

"Later, for you; I want mine right now," and she glanced up at me: "... and here. ... And then you can have yours ... anyway you want it." 

I chuckled with a nod as she got up and came around the end of the table, and moved my chair around towards her as she dropped to her knees on the carpet. "Um-hmm," she replied as she stared at him, and he was already looking forward to being able to offer her her dessert, and so was I as I spread my knees. 

"No, on the table; I want to be raunchy," and she glanced up at me with a smirk: 

"... do something maybe others wouldn't enjoy." 

I snorted with a chuckle and nod and started to get up. 

"But you think I will," I remarked as I sat on the edge of the table, pushing the backgammon board aside. "Um-hmm," she agreed with a snicker as she moved on her knees towards me, adding: "And I will too," glancing up at me with a smirk, and then she was looking at him again as I spread my knees.

"Smussig," she murmured to herself as she lowered her head, licking my balls, licking all over and around them as I watched her. Then she opened her mouth and sucked on one, and then took a breath and opened her mouth wider and sucked on it again, harder, as she pressed her face against me, and it slipped into her mouth. "Uhn," we both agreed, and then her tongue caressed it as she sucked again, her lips holding it in her mouth. "Uhnnnn," she hummed, buzzing on it, and glanced up at me with smiling eyes. Then after a moment more that way, humming and licking, she released it and with her hand helped to get the other one in her mouth, treating it the same way as she chuckled in her throat, and I could feel her breath in my hair as she sucked and licked, holding it as closely in her mouth as she could. 

"Mmmm, that feels good," I encouraged her, and she nodded slightly with a responding "uhn-hnnn" that I could feel more than hear, as I wondered what she was going to do next.

While she still sucked and licked my ball, her hands slid under my thighs, urging me to raise them. Did she want to do that, I thought - raunchy/ "smussig"? - as I leaned back on my elbows and drew my thighs up. She let it slip from her mouth, and I felt her tongue licking behind my balls, down further. Yes, she did! Her tongue slid down further, sliding over my asshole, up and down over it - tantalizing, feeling good. "Um-hmm," I encouraged her again and saw the top of her head nod as she continued, and then her tongue was probing in it, probing as hard as it could! "Uhnnn!" I responded in a reflex, and it probed again. Yes, the tip of her tongue pressing in it, moving. She was raunchy! Nice and raunchy! 

"Unnn! Oooh, ... that feels good too. Maybe a little like when my tongue is in you." 

She nodded, and her mouth was all around it, sucking as her tongue probed. And then her tongue slid back up and up over my balls as she raised her head, and it slid up the back of my stiff cock as she looked up at me, and then said: 

"I hope so, ... and now that it feels like when you're in me."

She drew him towards her, having to pull hard to get him where she could get him in her mouth. I sat back up again to make it easier for her, and then it was feeling like when it was in her pussy as her tongue moved on him, and then she began to suck and nod her head, fucking him with her mouth, her head bobbing up and down as she held him to the roof of her mouth with her tongue.

"Oh yes, fuck me, suck me with your raunchy mouth," I whispered: "... that is so good, like in your cunt, ... your tight sweet cunt. I want to suck your tongue for that, kiss your raunchy, ass-licking mouth." 

"Uhn-hnnn," she buzzed on my cock with a nod that broke the rhythm of her cock-sucking.

"You're going to make me come in your mouth, ... make me give you all 'that white stuff', all the crème from my éclair, all the sauce for your 'fiskeboller'." 

"Uhn-hnn," she agreed, and he was about too, feeling like he could give her a helping of each. 

"And then I'm going to eat your pussy/cunt, ... and lick your sweet asshole like you did, ... even better, ... maybe do even more, ... as raunchy as can be ..."

"Uhnnn!" He started to come, before I could finish what I was saying. My hips jerked as he came again. "Uhnn!" I gasped again: "Yes! ... Fucking white stuff! Uhnn! Crème and sauce! Uhnn! ... All in your mouth. Uhnn! ... Uhnn!" 

I held her head still, my cock twitching as she licked it, and then she just held it.

"God, you do that good!" I sighed: "... just so fucking, cock-sucking good." 

She nodded, and I continued: 

"I hope it makes your pussy all moist and warm, wanting to have it in it." 

She nodded again with a deep hum in her throat, still holding him, but then she let him slip from her mouth and looked up at me. 

"Um-hmm, ... it wants it real good, real fucking good. .... I want it real fucking, raunchy good, ... every way you can do it," and she stood up and reached for my beer glass.

I nodded with a little snort and smile, wondering if she was referring to what I had said before as she drank. I reached across the table for her glass and finished it. She emptied mine then, and I reached out with my feet and drew her to me, setting down the glass and holding her breasts. She raised them up with a smile as I said: 

"I will, but first I want to kiss your raunchy, cock-sucking mouth," and did, holding my lips together till she forced her tongue between them with a snicker, making me think that she also was thinking about what she had done before that. 

"Like that, too," I murmured, and she nodded slightly. 

"In the kitchen," I murmured against her lips: "I'm going to make you come all over the place." 

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a pleased hum and thrust her tongue into my mouth again.

We grabbed our glasses and went to the kitchen. Martha immediately got the rubber out of the table drawer and then hopped up on the table with a snicker. 

We really were raunchy, I thought as I looked at her pussy and lowered my face to it, kissing and licking her pubic hair, and then dropping to my knees. She dropped back on the table so that she could draw her thighs up even further, rolling her hips up to my mouth as she held them.

And then I was eating her pussy, and not just her pussy, as she held her knees up to her breasts. My tongue and then my mouth was all over her, between her cunt and her asshole, back and forth, probing equally in both, and she was enjoying it, encouraging me when she felt my tongue on her asshole: 




Martha in America Ch. 05



"Oooh! Oh yes! Like that. Like it was for you." 

And I tried to make it even better for her, more than I ever had before - raunchy! - wanting it to be so good for her, and enjoying doing it! But then I felt her hand on the back of my head, drawing it up to her pussy again, and then I was thrusting my tongue in her cunt and then nibbling on her clitoris, delighting when her hips jerked and her thighs clutched together on my head, making that happen again and again. Oh, I just loved to eat her pussy!

As she became more aroused, I wanted her to come, and she wanted to, clutching her legs against their reflex to extend and lock around my head, as I found her breasts and rolled and pulled her nipples. And then she started to come, all warm and wet against my chin, dribbling on the floor as she moaned with her aroused "Oh, oh-oh, ...!" as her hips jerked and she spurted again and again.

Then Martha cried out: "Fuck me," and I did, standing up as I put on the rubber and then guided my stiff cock into her cunt, knowing I wouldn't come too soon, even though her cunt was so aroused still, clutching, wanting to be fucked, as I looked down at her, holding her breasts again, and she looked up at me with wide eyes as her hips rocked to meet my thrusts. Then she came again with her uncontrolled "ohs" as she spurted, her thighs quivering and holding my waist, and then her calves locking me to her, holding him still in her, as she gasped - once, twice, and again. 

Her calves loosened their hold on me, but then clutched me to her again - moving him in her - as she panted: "More! Again!"

I had almost come when she did, but when I started again, holding onto her breasts to keep her from sliding away under my long, hard thrusts, I came while she was still building up to another orgasm. It didn't take long and was at least as intense as her previous ones and then her legs held me to her again as she gasped and moaned. I was recalling my sister's multiple orgasms, wondering if I could continue, but then Martha's legs just dropped, hanging down from the table. 

Her eyes were closed as she continued to gasp and moan, slowly returning to normal breathing. Her eyes opened, then found mine, and she smiled slightly and took a deeper breath again and murmured: 

"I don't know what happened. I just wanted more, had to have it again; it had been so good."

"Um-hmm, it sure was, and I wanted you to."

Martha nodded as I reached down and raised her legs. He slipped out of her with a wet slurp, and I heard more liquid drip on the floor. She snorted at the sounds and raised her legs to my waist and locked her heels behind me, holding my slack cock to her wet pussy. Something was still dripping - from her or from the edge of table. We both snorted as we looked at each other.

"You sure did," Martha replied with a smile: 

"Thank you. ... Hmm? ... I didn't know that could happen, that I could want it to. ... How many times have we made love today? That too, that I could want it before breakfast, and after breakfast, and before dinner, and still want it after dinner. ... Hmm?"

"About a month's worth."

"Hm-hmm! I'm not interested in that any more, more worried that I'll miss it even more now."

"'Get thee to a nunnery!'"

"Hm-hmm! That's what I'm afraid of. But you're not Hamlet ..."

"And you're not Ophelia, thank goodness."

"Thank goodness. But I better get up."

Martha let her legs drop, and I helped her sit up and then helped her off the table, with her arms around my neck, hanging onto me until she could stand. Then she gave me a kiss, and we hugged each other.

"Uhmm! So good," she murmured and then remarked: 

"But we're going to have to clean up a bit. I'm all wet, and the table is too."

"And the floor."

"Hmm!"

I slid my hand down and patted her wet bottom.

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a snort, and turned and found a dish towel, holding it up questioningly. I nodded. She wiped off the table and then with a snort wiped her bottom and the insides of her thighs and dropped the cloth on the floor and wiped it around with her foot. She flipped it up with one, snorting when she saw how dirty and wet it was.

She put the towel aside and got a fresh one to hang up, glancing at me as she did and remarking: 

"I don't know if it's such a good idea to keep doing it in here, ... how it will be, when the rest of the family is back." 

"Maybe not. Yeah, you're right. Hm-hmm! ... But you wanted something to eat, and for me to have something to eat, ... and we weren't dressed to eat in the dining room."

Martha chuckled with a smile and added: 

"And aren't for a beer." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed."

She went to the refrigerator and came back with only one can. 

"The last one," she said with a scowl. 

"We can share it," I replied and sat down on the chair, gesturing that she should sit on my lap. 

Martha smiled and did so and opened the can, handing it to me and then putting her arm around my neck.

"Skaal," I offered and held the can up for her to drink. "Skaal," she replied and smiled at me and had a sip and then offered me the can, holding it so I could have a drink. We smiled at each other again, and I put my hand on her breast. "Um-hmm," she approved and squeezed my neck slightly.

"Good thing this didn't occur to us last fall," I remarked. 

"Um-hmm," she agreed, but then looked at me with a smirk and asked: "Really?" 

I nodded, wondering then myself that I hadn't considered the possibility at all - until she was standing there in her nightgown - and asked: 

"Did you? ... Oh, your mother already had." 

Martha grinned and nodded and took a sip of beer and said: 

"Without her help. For au pairs, usually the fathers are ..., well, you know. Usually the children are much younger ... and the fathers, too," and she grinned again: 

"... but not yours, but then you, 'the young gentleman', even more ... 'dangerous'." 

We both snickered, and she offered me a sip from the can before she continued: 

"Yes, everyone expects that the father might be, ... uh, ... interested," and she smiled again.

I chuckled and then grinned and asked: 

"And they don't mind? Oh, and you? Disappointed or lucky that mine was so much older?" 

Martha smiled noncommittally, but then replied: 

"It never occurred to me, ... not with him, ..." and she smirked slightly: 

"... and until you mentioned his look on Sunday ..."

Suddenly I thought that, of course, he couldn't have been entirely unconscious of the presence of a young girl in the house. And earlier? We had always had au pairs, and he had been younger?

"Um-hmm," I agreed and squeezed her breast and added: 

"Why shouldn't it have occurred to him, ... even if he didn't let it show. He should have been 'interested'." 

Martha grinned and took a sip and then replied: 

"Thanks." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, pleased that she had understood my remark as a compliment. 

She offered me another sip of beer, having to hold the can up higher this time. I squeezed her breast again and rubbed my thumb over her soft nipple. 

"Um-hmm," she acknowledged softly and held the can up to her mouth, and then held it up again to mine, tilting up so that I could empty it. 

"Um-hmm," she agreed to my doing so and put the can on the table and then turned back to me, drawing us closer with her arm around my neck as her other hand found my side, and she turned her face to me and murmured: 

"I'm more lucky than the others, having 'the young gentleman,' if only for a week."

And then we kissed; she kissing me in confirmation of what she had said, but then we kissed in demonstration of what she meant, our mouths opening and our tongues caressing. 

"Better than twice a month?" I murmured against her lips. 

"Um-hmm, much," she murmured in reply and snorted and added: 

"And I only got it twice a month a couple of times, and not for much longer than a month." 

She sat up with a snicker and looked at me and said: 

"Actually, I guess, we did it most often that first summer, ... what we could, ... before his rubbers were used up. Pity that we didn't know what else we could have done. He didn't want to ask his brother for any more." 

We both snickered, and I agreed: 

"I can imagine not; not wanting to confirm that he had really used them, ... leaving the question open - better for your reputation - and not daring to ask." 

Martha snorted with a nod and agreed: 

"Yes, something like that, though at the time, I was proud that I had, wouldn't have cared - maybe even wanted - that someone else knew, knew that I wasn't just a little girl any more." 

I chuckled with a nod, and she smiled at my understanding.

But I was suddenly wondering if my sister would want anyone to know; if she couldn't resist telling a girlfriend, even if she masked it with a story about a cousin: "tall, dark and handsome, like a younger Uncle Simon." 

"And who knew first?" I asked, hoping to get an idea of whom my sister might tell. 

Martha blushed - to my surprise - and then after a moment replied: 

"My mother; she asked me." 

I must have looked very surprised; Martha smiled wryly before she explained: 

"Not immediately, later, back at home. I guess she knew it might happen, ... that it surely would happen sometime. She had told me to be careful, that it wasn't true that it couldn't happen the first time - getting pregnant." She smiled and then continued: 

"One day, when we were back home, alone in the kitchen, she just asked me. I was real embarrassed, blushing, and, of course, that gave it away, so I could only admit that we had. He was the only one I could have with. But she didn't seem surprised, just asked if we had been 'careful', and looked relieved when I assured her that we had been, still very embarrassed, but relieved that was all she seemed to want to know. I really loved her for that."

I nodded in appreciation, and Martha smiled. 

"You're lucky. Doesn't sound like any American mother's response." 

She smiled again with a nod. 

"And after that?" 

"I didn't have to tell anyone, knowing Mor - my mother - knew. It made it easier the next time, knowing she wasn't going to be upset about it, ... but he wasn't ... didn't have any condoms ... rubbers, ... so we didn't," she grinned and added: "... that time." 

I returned her grin, and she continued:

"Um-hmm, ... but we might have, if my mother hadn't responded that way, letting me know we could if he did have some, and that she wouldn't be upset if we did, if we were together again so that we could. So it was easier to say no that time." 

Martha smiled again and rubbed my chest.

"Sounds like a better system than here, and I can understand better your mother's advice before you came." 

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a smile: 

"... but that's our problem now, can't blame her for anything." 

"Who wants to, ... we know what we are doing - maybe you better than I, ... but I'm learning, and we're being 'careful'." 

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed with a smile, or maybe it was a smirk as she squeezed my breast, and I squeezed hers. 

"And I am too," she agreed with an unmistakable smirk and then grinned and asked: 

"What would he have thought if I had done that, that time?" 

"He would have been very happy ... and satisfied." She smirked again and agreed: 

"I bet, ... but we've still got some, ... and Mor is far away." 

She slid her arm up around my neck, and with both of her arms around my neck, we kissed as I squeezed her breast. 

"Um-hmm," she agreed, and then chuckled and slid off my lap and then got back on it, astride, as we resumed our kissing. And then it was only a question again of where we were going to do it. My cock was pressing up against her, and she nodded slightly in acknowledgement with a little chuckle in her throat as I thrust my tongue in her mouth. 

"Not here," she murmured when my tongue was no longer in her mouth, and I remembered what she had said before about our lovemaking in the kitchen, but her tongue was in my mouth again before I could reply, and my cock twitched up again, and she nodded again as her tongue explored in my mouth - all around mine - and then she drew it back and murmured: 

"I want to have him again, do that to him." 

"Umm-hmm, ... I know he would like that." 

She chuckled and replied: "I thought so."

And then, as soon as we had turned out the lights, foregoing picking up our clothes in the library, we were back in her bedroom. When she flung back the covers, I almost dove into her bed in the dark, my feet up on the pillow, and she joined me as quickly as she could, sliding her thigh up under my head as she found my cock with her hand and then with her mouth as I drew her hips to me, burying my face between her thighs.

Did we like to do it better that way?! We loved it! It was so delicious to have my mouth on her pussy, to taste it - already moist and wanting it - and to slide my tongue over her inner lips and find her waiting hole - already wet - as my tongue slipped into it. And she was sucking on my cock, her tongue moving on it, making it all stiff again after its relaxing while we had been turning out the lights, making it surge in her warm, moist mouth, feeling her hum in appreciation, and humming in response, wanting her juicy pussy to know how much I loved to have my mouth on it, to have my tongue in it, as deep in it as it could be as it pressed against my mouth, her pelvis rocking up, wanting it in her as she moaned and sucked my cock deeper in her mouth, wanting more of it too. Ooooh! Wanting as much of it as she could have! And it wanted it too, surging and moving in her mouth as her hips moved under my hands, rocking insistingly, wanting my tongue to find her firm, aroused clitoris, making her pelvis jerk as she sucked strongly in response, and then our fingers moving straight to each other's asshole. 

Oh yes! She wanted my finger in it, like I wanted to feel hers, letting it probe deeper, knowing she wanted to let me feel it the same way. Yes, we had no hesitations about that now - hadn't before - but now we both knew how raunchy we were, both knew we wanted to feel and do something maybe other people wouldn't want! But we did! Without any reservation, her finger moving in my asshole as I thrust mine in hers and sucked and licked her firm clitoris, humming my appreciation at what she was doing. And it wasn't just her unrestrained finger in my asshole, she was sucking and licking my cock, moving her head, fucking it with her mouth, better than my tongue could her pussy! But I wanted to, wanted it to be so good for her, wanted her pussy to come, wanted to feel and taste her love juice spurt in my face! But she was going to make me come first! 

Oh, God! She was going to make me come! All in her mouth - that "white stuff", as much as I could still give her! "Uhn! Uhn!" Like that! "Uhn! Uhn!" And she wanted it, and wanted to come, herself, her hips twitching and wanting it and then - finally – coming! All warm and wet in my mouth! Twitching and spurting her love juice, letting me have it! I loved it! Loved her for letting me have! Again and again, so much! 

We relaxed - our mouths relaxed - as we hugged each others hips, hugged each other together in confirmation that it had been good for each other - so good, so satisfying! God, we could do it so good!

"Um-hmm," she nodded and slipped her finger out of my asshole and wiped it between the cheeks of my ass. I agreed with an "um-hmm" and did the same, and then we hugged each other again. I kissed her pussy and felt her tongue move on my cock again before she let it slip from her mouth, and then we just lay there, and then dozed off.

But then I woke up, feeling cool with no covers, and remembered how we were lying. I reached down and found the covers, and then drew them up as I turned around, lying down next to her. She just murmured a soft "um-hmm" and rolled over, and I drew the covers up over us and found her breast as I cuddled up behind her. "Um-hmm," she murmured again, and then we were still, and I fell asleep.

And that was the way we were lying when I woke up, and this time he wasn't awake already. I opened my eyes and saw that it was much lighter in the room than it had been the previous morning. When I squeezed her breast, she murmured softly"um-hmm," but then cheerfully said: 

"Good morning. I've got to go." 

"Um-hmm, good morning," I responded as she slipped out from under my arm. 

She stood up and looked back at me for a moment with a smile and then went off. I heard her using the toilet and looked at my watch. There wasn't going to be enough time to do anything but shower and get dressed and have breakfast, and I had to go, now that I was awake and after her mentioning it.

I got up and joined her in the bathroom, smiling at each other as she got up and flushed. 

"We better just shower and start the day," I remarked. 

Martha nodded and stepped into the tub, smirking briefly as I joined her. As she turned to turn on the water, I pulled the shower curtain across, and then while she waited to adjust the hot water, I began to go, aiming at the crease between the cheeks of her ass. She snorted when she felt it, but then glanced back towards me and said: 

"I thought you would," and I let it play up on her back until she stood up, pulling up the knob for the shower.

She turned to me with a smile as the water started to come down, and then we washed each other. As I started to shave, she said that she would start making breakfast and stepped out of the shower and started drying herself and was gone when I finished. I went back to my room and got dressed, and then joined her in the kitchen, finding her still naked. 

She snorted with a smile when she saw me, and her nipples stood out, but she only said: "Scrambled this morning," and I nodded, still appreciating the view of her, and then noticing that the table was already set. I wanted to stand behind her and hold her breasts, but just stood and watched her finish scrambling the eggs, which was equally enjoyable. And then she served them and poured the coffee, all as though it was just natural to be doing so in "Eve's costume", despite my being all dressed.

As we sat down, I suddenly recalled the French painting of two or three men picknicking in a park with a nude woman - no: it was two men and two nude women, one in the background, recalling then the title: "Breakfast in the Park," recognizing then why I had recalled it.

"Sort of like that painting 'Breakfast in the Park'," I remarked, wondering if Martha knew it and wondering still who the painter was. 

Martha snorted with a grin and nod and agreed: 

"Um-hmm, Manet, ... and the way I want you to think of me all day." 

"That won't be difficult," I replied, and then we enjoyed our breakfast. 

She wasn't sure about what she was going to do that day, and I reminded her of the Federal Reserve Bank tour, the gold bars in the safe, and she thought maybe she would, "if she got dressed," and we snickered, and her nipples stood out. And then it was time for me to leave.

She followed me to the door, and then stood close to me, and I embraced her, holding her naked body to me - a funny sensation, embracing a nude girl when I was all dressed, feeling her naked body in my arms, and she pressed herself against me as we kissed, kissed for a few moments as though we both should have been naked. And then I was off, buttoning my jacket so that my aroused cock wouldn't show.

On the way to work, it occurred to me that we had made no plans for the evening, but figured that Martha would think of something, maybe really a Norwegian surprise for dinner. Certainly she would think to buy some more beer. And then I was at work, and having no difficulty recalling the image of her at breakfast - or in other, even better situations: in the library - had she picked up our clothes? - or in the kitchen. And she had asked how many times we had done it, and we had still done it again!




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."



Martha in America Ch. 06



Please don't bother to comment that they snort and smirk too much. I can't change what they do while talking about it so much. I certainly haven't, and doubt that most other people have. Don't we wish? Wouldn't we smirk and snort if we were in their situation? Isn't that why we are here? 

*

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, 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 moved up over, 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." 

She nodded with the same serious expression. Mine was the same. After a moment, she nodded again and smiled slightly and said: 

"Yes, it could have been my thumb I was sucking ... when you woke me up. I know I wasn't thinking it was ... you." 

Then she smiled apologetically and said: 

"And before that - to be honest - I was wondering what it would be like with another one, ... one like I told you about." 

I nodded slightly, and we both snorted softly with slight smiles. She remarked softly: 

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that, either." 

"That's all right, ... I guess I'd be curious, too, but you'll find out." 

I liked that I had suggested that she would move on to some other boy back in Norway. 

She nodded and agreed: "I will." 

"Someone should warn him." 

"Hmm! Hm-umm, I want to surprise him, ... whoever he is." 

I slapped her bottom in response, but Martha just grinned and then asked what time it was, but we had no idea when she had set the timer, so that wasn't any help. 

"Let's just lie here and wait for it," I suggested, but she remembered that she had to prepare the rest of the meal, so after a few moments and a kiss, we got up and went back to the kitchen.

As she started boiling potatoes and vegetables, I excused myself to shave - she smiling appreciatively - and I went back to her bathroom as it occurred to me that we could have started another beer. But while I was shaving, she brought me one, bringing her own. We said "skaal" and drank, and then she left me to finish shaving. I heard the timer ring as I was washing the rest of the soap off my face and then returned to the kitchen with my beer, thinking that we had really spent the time most appropriately.

Martha had set the table in the kitchen for dinner and was removing the meatloaf from the oven. She held it up for me to see, looking pleased, and it looked as good as my mother's. She smiled when I said so, and then put it on the hotpad on the table where the vegetables were already waiting.

We sat down and she indicated that I should serve. I liked that, her assumption that I should assume my father's role at dinner, and cut slices from the meatloaf and served her and then myself, and then served her potatoes and vegetables and served myself, saying it looked delicious, and then we ate, and it was. I raised my beer and said "skaal," and we drank, looking in each other's eyes, and both smiling, as our eyes took in each other's nudity, a better view for me, observing her nice breasts and that her nipples responded to my glance.

We ate, chatting a little, but it seemed that we were both more interested in finishing the meal. She had taken the tour of the Federal Reserve Bank, smiling when she told me that the guide had - in response to her question - shown the group the gold that was held for Norway. When she asked about my day, I mentioned that I had been to lunch with other students there. But that was really only polite conversation while we ate. 

Yes, it seemed that she was just as eager as I was to finish our meal and do something else. I liked that, but felt it was a little unfair to the dinner she had prepared, which was really good, but when she suggested I have another helping, and I refused - remembering what she had told me about Norwegian manners - and she didn't offer again, smirking slightly instead. It seemed that she was thinking about the same thing, especially when she refused my suggestion that she could have some more. 

We looked at each other, both smiling slightly, waiting for one of us to say something, and I remembered that I should say "Takk for maten," and did so, finding my beer can. "Vel bekomme," Martha responded with a nice smile as her hand found her can. "Skaal," I said, raising my can, and she raised hers as she responded, and we drank, both of us emptying our cans.

We looked at each other again as we put down our cans, and I saw that her nipples were stiff again, and felt my cock move, and wanted to touch her somehow, sliding my foot forward - ooh - and finding hers already closer than I thought it would be, our toes touching, and then hers sliding up over mine, creeping up on my foot as she smiled slightly, and I moved my foot further as hers slid up on it, and I was aware of my cock as I returned her little smile with a soft snort as her foot slid up to my ankle. 

"Um-hmm," I murmured. 

"Um-hmm," she agreed softly, her eyes smiling as she said softly: 

"If we don't want any more ... in here ...?"

I nodded as I saw her shift slightly and then felt her other foot join at holding my ankle as she snorted slightly, moving her feet on my ankle suggestively, and my cock was no longer resting on my balls. 

"I want to," she murmured with wide eyes, and her nipples were even more aroused, and her mouth was half opened with her tongue showing on her lower lip, moving slightly, and my cock could almost feel it, becoming almost fully aroused as I replied softly: 

"And he want's you to, too." 

"Mmmm," she responded with a smile.

We got up. Martha chuckled when she saw him and said: 

"Um-hmm, I'm glad he does," and then we were back in her room. 

She followed me onto her bed, immediately resting her head on my stomach as her hand found him, hardly less aroused than he had been under the table, and then just as aroused again as she kissed him and then let him slip between her lips as her hand slid down and fondled my balls again. I found her breast again - now with my other hand - rubbing her stiff nipple, and then she was doing it; gently, but this time we weren't going to doze off. 

Oh no, it was feeling so good; and he had been waiting for it so long; and even though she was just sucking gently - like before - there was no way we were going to forget what she was doing, no way she was going to start thinking that she was just sucking her thumb - maybe wondering again what it would be like with "one like I told you about" - but for now she was sucking my cock; and real good, just sucking and licking as I tried to hold my hips still, and managed to for a while, but then gave in and let them move. 

"Uhn-hnn," Martha hummed as he moved deeper into her mouth, holding her head still as my hips slowly moved him out and back in, holding her head still to let them do it again and again, to let him fuck her in her warm mouth, just letting him rub against her tongue, holding it still so as not to arouse him too much, but her fingers were massaging my balls as my hips continued - pure reflex - to move him slowly. And then she must have felt that my scrotum had drawn up; her fingers were scratching and then pinching the tight skin.

"Um-hmm," I agreed: "do that, stretch my skin," and held my hips still as she nodded slightly and did so. 

"Oh yes, that's good," I whispered, pleased that we were managing to prolong what we were doing, and her fingers had my sack all loose again, her fingers rubbing the skin on itself and then massaging my balls again in my loose sack as she nodded understandingly. 

"You do that so good," I murmured: "... letting it take so long. That was good." 

She nodded again with an "uhn-hnn" that he felt, and then she started to lick and suck again. And soon my hips were moving again, just rocking him in her mouth, but now she was continuing to suck and move her tongue, and I felt her fingers slid down below my balls, and rolled my thighs open, letting her hand slid down between them till her fingers found my asshole, holding my hips still again as I squeezed her breast and encouraged her: 

"Um-hmm, do that," and she did with a nod, making me rock my hips up again, and her finger pressed and slipped into it, staying there as my hips rocked back, and then going deeper as they rocked up again, as my cock went deeper in her mouth, and then my hips were rocking again as she sucked and her tongue and finger moved. 

She knew just how that felt, I thought, knew how arousing it felt and that we both enjoyed that, liked to feel it and to do it, and I wanted to do it to her, holding my hips still again as my hand left her breast and slid down her side and over her hip. She held still, waiting for me to find hers, arching her back as she felt my fingers touch her, inviting them to, relaxing as one pressed its way into her and then holding it, and mine held hers as my cock surged in her mouth, and she sucked, and my hips thrust him deeper, and then started to rock again as our fingers and her tongue moved, and then my hips slow-moving reflex changed abruptly to an uncontrollable quick one, making me gasp as my cock thrust quickly in her mouth, and she rocked her head, as her finger encouraged my hips' movement, and hers met the probing of my finger, as I gasped again, and then I came - he came! Thrusting and spurting into her mouth! 

"Uhnn!" I groaned, gasping and groaning again: "... Uhnn!" And he came again. 

"Uhnnn!" Martha responded, and again when he spurted as I gasped again as my hips thrust him into her, and then again, and then again, and then with a final rock of my hips I relaxed, holding Martha's head still with my other hand.

For a few moments, we just lay there, only her tongue moving, as I hoped that it had been as satisfying for her as it had been for me, of course, in a different way, but I was going to try to make that up to her, and enjoy doing it as much as I hoped she had enjoyed doing it for me.

She let him slip from her mouth and rolled back towards me, on her back, then drawing up her legs and rocking them towards me so that she rolled on her side, looking at me with a sigh, and then whispering: 

"I just love you for letting me do that." 

This time she didn't comment on what she had said, and I nodded and whispered in reply: "And I just love you for doing it." 

She nodded, and then snorted softly with a mild smile, and I added: 

"And I'm going to just love doing it to you ... and hope you love it just as much."

She nodded again with the same smile and agreed: "I will."

For a few moments we just lay there, looking at each other. I saw her lick her lips and though she were savouring the last taste of my come. Martha snickered with a grin and said: 

"Mother always said we had to taste everything, at least once, before saying we didn't like it." 

"Hm-hmm! Mine too, but they weren't talking about this." 

We both laughed, and then Martha said: 

"But she was right; I could have thought about that the first night." 

"That would have been funny, ... if you had told me that, given that as a reason for trying it." 

"It sure would have been." Then with a grin, she added: "But now, I've got to go." 

"Me too," I agreed, and we got up.

"You said you had to go first." 

"If you want me to," she replied, stepping into the tub. 

She snickered, looking down at me as I knelt in front of her.

And then she did, having to wait a moment to relax, and then her stream arched out towards me, splashing warm on my chest and running down my stomach and around my cock.

But I quickly moved closer to her, reaching up to hold her thighs as put I my face in it - all warm - and then all warm in my mouth. More than "just a little raunchy," I thought, glancing up to her smiling face as it filled my mouth, and I swallowed, liking it, and liking being raunchy as I swallowed again moving my mouth up towards her pussy, until her stream stopped flowing, and then she pressed a little more out for me, snickering and saying: 

"Just a little raunchy, like me." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, smiling up at her as I stood up, and she knelt down, watching me expectantly, watching my cock expectantly as I held it, and then smiling slightly as I started, letting me play its stream over her breasts, but then waiting for me to direct it at her face, her mouth open, letting me guide it into her mouth, then splashing on her lips, as her mouth closed for a moment while she swallowed, and then it was going back in her mouth, and she leaned forward, her open and overflowing lips approaching my cock, and then kissing it as my stream subsided, chuckling when I pressed a last spurt as her lips slipped around its soft head. She sucked as much of him into her mouth as she could as I slid my hand back, watching most of my soft cock disappear between her lips for a moment, until she drew back a little and licked all around its head. 

"Maybe more than 'just a little raunchy'," I suggested. 

Martha nodded emphatically with a warm chuckle, as she let it slip out and looked up at me with a broad, pleased smile.

"Real nice and raunchy," she agreed as she stood up, murmuring: 

"I wonder if there is a better word than 'smussig' for it in Norwegian." 

"I hope so, but now we have to shower. Even if we're raunchy, in your fresh bed, we want it to be just good, clean sex." 

Martha nodded with a smirk and replied: 

"But I hope it won't be so fresh, soon."

I nodded, and then she turned and stooped to turn on the water as I closed the curtain, suddenly recalling the first shower together with my sister - what was she doing now?

But I forgot about her as Martha turned back to me under the warm shower, and I took the soap and joined her under it, washing her, she standing and just letting me soap her all over, and then she chuckled slightly and remarked: 

"Sort of like my mother washing me when I was small - hmm! - before my brother and I bathed together." 

"How long did you do that?"

"Hmm! Until I was in second grade, then Mother told us to take separate baths and told me that I shouldn't tell girls in school what a boy looks like. They had asked, ones that didn't have a brother. They should have known anyway, since toddlers and preschoolers often wear nothing at the shore." 

"Sounds like a mother or teacher complained."

"Probably, never really thought about it. Why did I mention that?"

"The talk about my sister?"

"Yes, probably. ... I guess thinking a little bit about him that way."

"I can't say you shouldn't," I murmured and washed her other leg and then tickled the sole of her foot. She almost lost her balance when her leg jerked, but laughed and said: 

"And I can't say that you shouldn't have." 

I nodded and handed her the soap, and she started to wash me, and we were silent for a while after having mentioned my sister again, and I wondered what she really thought about that, if she had just been wonderfully tactful but shocked, without showing it, and wondered if she was thinking about her brother too in her silence as she washed me like a mother would, a lot better.

Then she glanced up at me, and then glanced up again and after a moment asked softly: 

"If you both wanted to, you lucky." 

"Um-hmm, yes, ... if you like to think so; I do," I replied quietly, not avoiding her eyes. 

She nodded and said:

"Makes me think about my brother, maybe like I shouldn't."

"I'm not going to say you shouldn't. ... I can't, knowing how good it is with you."

"And with you! Not so sure about with him, if he is like most of the boys, from my experience."

"Maybe just because no one lets them know how it could be better, if it's better for you -- the girls."

"Hmm? Hm-hmm! Want me to tell them?"

"Show them. Just your brother. No, I shouldn't suggest that."

"Hmm? Hmm! There's an expression, don't know right word in English. The Norwegian word would be translated: 'loving your nearest one', ..."

"Charity," I suggested.

She grinned and said: 

"Then: 'charity begins at home.'"

"Also an expression in English."

"Really? Of course, 'charity,' biblical expression. Hmmm? Shouldn't have thought of that right now."

"Too late; we have, but kind of nice."

"Your fault if I do."

She grinned. I nodded, accepting the accusation, smiling and liking the idea that she might also do something with her brother. 

By now we had rinsed each other all over. Martha gave me a brief smile as I stooped and turned off the water. She opened the shower curtain and handed me a towel and then stepped out of the tub and took the second one. She looked lovely as she dried herself, her nipples pale and soft as I observed her while I was drying myself. She stepped to the side to let me step out of the tub and started drying her hair, her breasts rising nicely, and then her nipples standing out when she saw me staring at her breasts, smiling in response. As she turned to hang up her towel, I said:

"I want to suck your breasts, and then, when you want it, want to taste your pussy, to lick and taste your sweet pussy, ..." 

She turned back from hanging up her towel and let me look at her with a slight nod and just as slight smile as I felt for my towel bar, my eyes not leaving her, continuing: 

"... and make it all warm and moist, want to make it feel so good - however that is - as good as it was for me, ..." she nodded again: "... and if that isn't good enough, or if it is, and you still want more, then I'll hold you on my lap with him deep in you ..." She nodded again with wide eyes, glancing down at him. 

Then we were back in her room. She turned and moved backwards towards her waiting bed, waiting for me to embrace her, her arms raised, and I did, holding her body as she wrapped her arms around my neck, and we kissed, but not for long. I stooped and slid my hands down over her ass and picked her up, surprising her. "Oooh!" she murmured, and then I was sucking on one of her breasts, sucking and licking her tight nipple as she held my head to her, and then sucking the other one. "Oh, yes," she murmured, and it was so good, but I had promised to do something even better - for us both - and lowered her onto her bed, and she immediately lay back and raised her legs as I knelt down - suddenly thinking that I was praying at the altar of her femininity.

Then my mouth was all over her pussy, so clean, but immediately my tongue found her moisture, tasting her aroused pussy and delighting to explore around where it came from, and then to search there for more, deeper, as deep as I could as she rocked her hips up to help me, sighing with a soft moan as she felt my tongue in her, and I wished she would tell me how it was, how she wanted it, how much she wanted it, but she just moaned in appreciation, and then rolled her hips up as far as she could, inviting me to find her other hole, and I wanted to, wanted to feel it with my tongue, and slid my hands up the back of her thighs, helping to hold her hips up as my tongue explored around and in her asshole, as I thought that it wasn't raunchy, just so natural to want to give her any sensation she wanted, to arouse her any way I could and pleased that she wanted to let me. "I love it," she murmured - to my delight. I nodded and continued, hearing her chuckle, but then she relaxed a little, lowering her hips a little, and my tongue slid back up to her pussy.




Martha in America Ch. 06



Then I knew why she had chuckled; my nose felt her finger moving on her clitoris. "Um-hmm," she acknowledged cheerfully, and then her hand slid onto my cheek as my tongue found it, and I felt her other hand join to hold my face to her cunt. I released her legs and reached up around them and found her breasts.

"Oh yes," she agreed, sounding more delighted than aroused, but then she was guiding my head as I rolled and squeezed her nipples, showing me where she wanted to feel my tongue, and I wanted to do anything she wanted, delighting at her initiative to help me make good for her, wondering if her directing my efforts between her hole and her clitoris was just reflex or intentional - to increase her arousal, or to prolong it, not letting me arouse her too fast. 

Whatever she wanted .... And it was arousing her, making her sigh with soft moans and then gasp when she wanted to feel it on her clitoris, holding me there for a moment as she gasped again, and her thighs twitched, but then she pressed my face further down, wanting to feel my tongue in her hole again - or not wanting me to continue on her clitoris. Whatever she wanted, I wanted it to be good for her, wanted it to be as good for her as she could imagine. And then she had her heels on my back, pressing her thighs open to raise her cunt to my eager tongue, and then wanting it on her clitoris again, pressing it up to my mouth for a moment, but then her thighs twitched strongly as she gasped, and twitched again, flopping up and down over my arms as she gasped again and clutched my head to her.

"Oh yes!" she gasped, this time in pure arousal, and I pinched and pulled on her nipples as her thighs quivered, rising up and then lowering, still quivering as she gasped again, pulling at my ears to hold me on her clitoris as her pelvis jerked. "Make me!" she cried out as her body convulsed: "... Make me come!" And I did; she did; spurting in my face as her pelvis jerked, rocking quickly up and down against my mouth, spurting, and I tried to lap it in, while still trying to give her what she wanted, and she didn't want it to stop. It was being so good for her! Being so much! And I was loving it, her sweet pussy juice, and that it was being so good for her, that I was making it so good for her!

She was gasping and sighing, moaning - no mild "ohs" - as she kept coming, and then with a final loud gasp, she cried out: "Oh, Fuck!" and was still, her legs sagging down, completely relaxed.

I gathered in her legs over my shoulders, my mouth still, my tongue a little tired, confident that her final exclamation had not been a demand to do that, but my cock was all aroused; it had been so arousing to experience her orgasm.

Her stomach was still rising and falling with her deep breaths, and then her breathing slowly subsided to normal. I rubbed her thighs, remembering my first thought: praying at the altar of her femininity, and thought then: better: the altar of her feminine sexuality, and snorted as I remembered what I knew about Christian religions: sacraments; we had both celebrated the sacrament of her sexuality; and before, that of mine. Then I wondered how sacrilegious my thoughts would seem to a Christian; but consummation of the marriage - a sacrament - was important; we'd just done it different way, but we weren't married. 

"Hmm?" I snorted softly to myself.

"Hmm," Martha snorted then, as though in reply, but then said cheerfully: "I didn't mean that. It just came out. ... The language I use! ... Oh God, it was good! Thank you!" "Thank you," I replied: "... it was all my pleasure. I just loved it." 

"Not as much as I did," Martha replied, and started to sit up.

I held her thighs down to help her. She looked down at me with a smile, that I could just recognize in the dark. 

"But as much as you did, before," I countered. She smiled again with a nod and agreed: 

"I hope so." 

"You can be sure," I replied and saw her nod as her hands found my face again, her fingers exploring over my cheeks and eyes and then brushing my lips, letting me lick them, and they followed my tongue back into my mouth, letting my lick and suck on them. 

"Um-hmm," she responded. 

I rose up on my knees, and we embraced each other, her arms and calves clasped around me. I wanted to tell her that it was the best time like that - before dinner and now - that I had had, but didn't, not wanting to cheapen it with any comparisons. But it was, at least I thought it was; it's all so subjective. Only the obviously "lesser" times are objectively less good - but at the time, they're as good as they could be. We kissed, just in confirmation of our agreement - "confirmation," another sacrement. She clasped me a little tighter, and I held her shoulders closer, and she asked: 

"How late do you think it is?" 

"I don't know, ... but not too late for another beer." 

"Oh, that's a good idea," Martha agreed with a hug, and then let go of me. We stood up, and she put her arm around my waist as I took her under my arm, and we found our way to the kitchen in the dark.

As I found the light switch, I put my hand over her eyes, closing mine for a moment, and then opening them as I spread my fingers and let a little light in between them. When I removed my hand, she looked around at the table and stove and snickered before she said: "The people living here really are sloppy. I wonder what they do; leaving their clothes all over the place one night, and not cleaning up the kitchen the next?" I snickered, trying to think of a witty reply and then said: 

"Whatever it is that they do, they must find it more attractive than cleaning up after themselves." 

Martha snickered with a nod as I added: 

"But that could be almost anything," and she nodded again with a grin and replied: 

"Even just getting a beer, but I guess I ought at least to put the leftovers in the fridge." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, now glad that she had just served from the pans as she found the lids. I opened the refrigerator for her and took out two cans of beer, as she got aluminum foil to put on the baking dish, watching her as she pressed it down around the dish. 

I closed the door and we opened our cans, skaaling each other almost formally, maybe intentionally, to contrast with our nakedness. I liked the Norwegian custom; it seemed nicer than just saying "cheers" or whatever and maybe glancing around the table if it were a group.

"I like that," I said, and had another sip explaining: 

"... it's more personal and considerate than the way we do it here, just sort of acknowledging the presence of the others and then drinking. Saying 'skaal' the way you do makes the other person more important than taking the first drink."

Martha smiled and nodded and agreed: 

"Yes, I guess that's what I missed, that here you just raise your glass and then the drink is more important." 

She paused and smiled wryly and added: 

"That sounds funny. I didn't mean it that way, ... but it sort of seems like that, when you're expecting someone to look back up at you, and they're all just setting down their glasses." "Um-hmm, ... I can imagine." 

She nodded and then grinned and said: 

"And you can ..., and that look can be ..., well, ... it can have different meanings, ... if you want it to." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed with a smile, adding: 

"... I noticed, ... Sunday. You made sure I learned properly." 

Martha nodded again and agreed: 

"And you learned fast. Hm-hmm! ... I wasn't really thinking about that, just wanted you to do it properly." 

I smiled, recalling the situation, and raised my can and said "skaal" again as I looked in her eyes. She looked back in mine and raised her can and said "skaal", and we drank again, and looked at each other again and smiled. 

"And you did," she continued. 

"Um-hmm, ... not difficult, with you looking like you were waiting for a first kiss." 

"Did I?" Martha asked, looking surprised. 

"I thought so," 

"Hmm? I guess I was, ... but I didn't know I looked like it, ... like I was." 

"It sure seemed like it, as though you were, ... had been, after that," I replied with a grin. 

"I guess so," she agreed with a grin of her own, and then suggested: 

"Or maybe you did, ... look like that." 

"Probably," I agreed with a smile and nodded: "... I wanted to." 

"Didn't we both! ..." she agreed with a snort and smile: "... more than I realized," and she looked more serious as she continued: 

"Sort of like we talked about the next evening." 

"Um-hmm, ... that was good, ... but what did you expect Sunday, standing there and saying you would be in your room?" 

"Just hoping. I told you I had already been thinking about it. I was surprised, myself, that I said that, wondering a little as I went - about myself, and about how you would react." 

"Me too, ... but then ..., by then it was pretty well settled. That was nice, with the candle." "Um-hmm," she agreed: "... we use a lot of candles in Norway - the long winter nights." "Nice," I said again. 

"Let's," she replied: "... with one of the candelabras." "Um-hmm," I agreed, thinking that my mother would notice that the candles had been burned down, but that was going to be a problem we had to deal with later.

Martha put down her beer and went and got the other candelabra, returning and placing it on the table. I had gotten matches in the meantime and lit the candles. She turned off the light, and smiled at me in the candlelight, and then picked up the candelabra carefully, looking at me again, and said: 

"I'll try it again: 'I'll be in my room.'" We both chuckled, and I picked up her beer and followed her back to her room.

She put the candelabra on her bed table, and I liked that it gave more light than the single candle the first night, letting me see her better. As she was about to sit down, she smiled at me and said: 

"We forgot something, ... going first." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, setting down our beers, and we went to her bathroom. 

She snickered and got in the tub and "went." and I peed into the tub, letting our streams mix, as she chuckled and remarked: 

"All warm, under my feet," and then rinsed them under tap.

I moved the bathmat so she could step on it. "Um-hmm," she agreed and stepped on it, stamping her feet a little as she smiled at me in the almost dark room and then reached to hold the head of my cock and then tasted the drops on her hand. She smiled at me and then smirked and wiped her hand on my cheek, and I snorted with a nod. She reached down and wiped her pussy with her other hand and held it up to my mouth, letting me lick it, and then wiped it on my other cheek with a snicker, and then we returned to her bed.

I was wondering how she was expecting us to sit and finish our beers. She sat down at the head of the bed with her legs outstretched, and then spread them out as she picked up our cans, and then slid her near leg half off the bed, apparently inviting me to sit between them.

I did, with my legs over hers. She nodded and handed me my can as she drew her leg back up on the bed, and with both feet urged me to move closer. I drew my feet in behind her hips and did so, and then a little closer again as she moved her feet closer together behind me. "Skaal," I said, and she responded, and we drank, looking at each other again.

"So that's how we got in my bed," Martha said, returning to our conversation in the kitchen.

"Um-hmm. ... Hm-hmm! It would have been rude of me not to join you after that." "Very," she agreed with a smile, resting her forearms on my knees and chuckled: 

"I never did that before, ask someone to come in my bed, ... but the situation never arose ... of course, living at home. ... Hmm! Maybe I tried to suggest that I was willing a couple of times, but usually they were trying to suggest it, so I didn't have to, ... or was trying to refuse. ... Hm-hmm! I did, ... maybe usually because I had to go home." 

She grinned, and I snorted with a smile and remarked: 

"I was lucky, I guess."

"Um-hmm, me too," she agreed, and we both took a sip from our cans, smiling at each other as we lowered them. 

As I was thinking how nice and natural that look was, even after an unspoken skaal, I felt Martha's free hand slid down my thigh, and her fingers touch me, sliding under my balls and massaging them familiarly, just like I would have done, moving them a little and playing with the skin of my sack, moving almost unconsciously; just nice and familiar, unarousing; just finding a little more physical contact, and her nipples were unaroused, too.

Almost as if to underline that she was unaware of what her hand was doing, Martha asked: "And you? Did you ever say no?" 

I snorted and shook my head. 

"Not that I can remember, ... it would have been rude." 

She snickered as her fingers moved unconsciously and agreed: 

"Yes, I guess so. A girl can always say no, ... if she can," and she smirked: 

"... but if a boy ... man lets it get that far, ... without having helped, he sort of has to do it." 

We both snorted with a nod as I felt her fingers move. 

"Sort of like on Sunday," I suggested. She nodded with only a slight smile. 

"Or now," I added with a glance down.

Martha looked almost embarrassed at my glance, then snorted softly and said: 

"I just wanted to feel them. ... They're so nice, ... it's so nice, just to feel them," and her fingers did. 

"Um-hmm, ... you do it just like I do. It is so nice." 

Martha gave me a wry grin, and moved her fingers some more as she chuckled and said: 

"No one told me that, that men like to hold them, themselves." 

"If no one else wants too," I replied, and she chuckled with a smile and squeezed them gently, and then moved my cock with the back of her thumb. 

"It's just so nice to hold them," she murmured: "... so nice to be so close that I can just do it without asking or feeling that I'm doing something I shouldn't." 

"That is nice, ... it is nice." We nodded again and silently skaaled to our agreement, drinking and looking at each other again.

I just love it," Martha murmured as her fingers moved: 

"... being able to be like this," and she took in our nudity with her eyes, adding softly: 

"... but relaxed." 

I nodded, thinking that I understood what she meant as she continued: 

"In a way, ... somehow, ... it's nicer than doing it, more personal." 

As I nodded, she snorted with another wry smile and added: 

"That sounds funny. Of course, it's better ... doing it," and she looked at me: 

"... but you know what I mean," and her fingers massaged my balls as she looked at me for confirmation of what she had said. 

"Um-hmm, yes. ... It's just nice to be so familiar with each other that being like this is just so good, feels so good." 

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed, her fingers moving again, and her thumb moving my cock again, but this time he was fuller and flopped differently from before, and she noticed with a soft snort, but didn't say anything. But her nipples suddenly stiffened, inviting me to hold one with my free hand. 

"Um-hmm," she acknowledge as I cupped my hand around her breast.

For a while, just our fingers moved, but it was soon obvious that even if this was "nicer than doing it," my not being able to resist rubbing her tight nipple; and her discovering that my cock was no longer resting on her thumb, were suggesting that we wanted to do it, at least that I couldn't help but want to, and she wasn't minding the contradiction to what she had said, pressing her breast against my fingers as they rolled her nipple, and letting her hand slide up to hold him.

She snorted softly and quickly emptied her can and put it aside, and as I did the same, her other hand slipped under my balls. 

Then I was holding both her breasts, rubbing both her nipples as she held my cock and massaged my balls. Then almost simultaneously, we both clutched our heels up against the others hips, drawing us closer and then kissed, just sort of half intensely, but enough to make me want to slide one hand down to her pussy, over her soft hair, just holding it, a little more than just holding it.

"Are you sure this is 'nicer than doing it'?" I murmured. 

"Hm-umm," she replied with a slight shake of her head, as we kissed again. 

Her hand slipped from under my balls, and I assumed she was searching for a rubber with it. Yes, she slipped one between my palm and her pussy. As hers returned to my balls, I wondered if she knew that it was better that she kept holding me, or whether she just didn't want to let go of my cock.

Her thumb slid up and rubbed the side of his head as my hands met between our stomachs and tore open the foil, and then I slid one hand down and put the rubber over him, and she immediately rolled it down. But we were going to have to rearrange our legs; I drew my feet back, and she drew her knees up, letting me get my legs under hers as her feet met again behind me. "Um-hmm," she agreed as my hands slid down to her ass. As I raised her up, she helped with her feet, pressing down on the bed, and drawing her hips closer as her hand guided my cock into her pussy. As she moved her hand away, I let her down on him. 

"Oh-uhnnn!" she sighed as he went into her, she sliding down on him, holding him, making him surge as I agreed with a moan. 

"No, this is nicer," she murmured with her arms around me as she locked her feet together and held us closer. "Much," I agreed, holding her hips tightly, and then we started kissing again, our tongues caressing between our open mouths, alternately trying to get as deep into each other's mouth as they could, each of us sucking to help. I slid my hands up and found Martha's nipples. Of course, they were aroused, all stiff, standing out, wanting to be touched, and she nodded slightly as I rubbed my thumbs over them and then held them, squeezing and pulling slightly, suddenly recognizing that my natural reflex was to do what a child sucking on a nipple would do. That must be nice for a mother, if girls making love enjoyed feeling it.

And Martha did, moaning appreciatively in response as we kissed, and then releasing my tongue and murmuring: "Suck them," and loosened her hold on me and leaned back, and I did, delighting like a baby to have her nipple in my mouth and suck on it: her nice nipple, just made for being sucked! Both of them, and my mouth found her other one, and Martha rocked her hips, moving my cock in her, and sighed with a moan as she did it again, and then continued, rocking her hips to and fro on my cock, making it move slightly in her, making it surge in the tight hold of her pussy, and letting me know that she felt it with an appreciative and aroused "um-hmm," as she continued to rock her hips and arouse us.

God, it was so fucking good to fuck her, to have her fuck me! She did it so good, moving on my cock that way! We did it so good! And it was being so good for her: her sighing with soft moans as I sucked, and she rocked her hips.

My hand slid back down to her ass and around under it, finding her asshole as her hips continued to move, but then they held still as she murmured: "Yes," and my fingers explored, one of them finding the center of it and probing, finding its way, feeling her reflex to tighten it, and then feeling it relax, letting it probe deeper as my cock surged in my own arousal at what I was doing, and her cunt and asshole tightened again for a moment, but then relax again, and the next time they contracted, it was around my finger, too, and then letting it move in it, and she nodded as I sucked again, my finger moving in time with my sucking, and then her hips were moving again, rocking in the same tempo, my finger following her hips and going deep as they rocked forward and my cock went deeper in her cunt.

God, we knew how to do it good! She knew how to do it so good, knew so well how she wanted it, wanting to feel it in her that way: moving into her that way - both places. And her cunt clutching my cock, making him want to come!




Martha in America Ch. 06



Martha drew herself up, forcing me to relinquish her breast, getting her arms around my neck with her mouth on mine again and she pressed her arms down on my shoulders and moved her hips and demanded softly: "Fuck me! Fuck me!"

And I did - we did - riding her up and down on my cock as my finger tried to keep pace with my cock as it moved in and out her tight cunt as she gasped and moaned, as her cunt and asshole contracted, and we came! Great fucking coming! Both of us spurting as she lost control of her speech, just gasping and whimpering as she came, all wet, again and again as her cunt clutched me! 

God, it had been good! Martha just held me, her head heavy my shoulder as I held her as we both drew deep breaths, sighing deeply. Then she came back to herself and raised her head and kissed my cheek, and then seemed to remember that she had wiped her hand on it as she licked, snickering and moving her hips again once, but he slipped out of her.

"You're being bad for me," she whispered: "... or being too good for me. How am I going to get someone to do that for me?" 

"Just show them, and if they like it, they will understand that it feels just as good for you, and know that you like it." 

"Maybe."

"You're being real good for me, too, ... otherwise I would have been spending my nights thinking about my sister," 

"Hmm," she snorted softly with a mild smile and then said: 

"But you are now. ... I don't mind." 

I nodded, realizing that she was right and appreciating her last comment, as she added: 

"That must have been good ... after you agreed to do it,... even before, doing the other, ... just like it would have been with any other girl." 

"Sort of, ... well, you know, with a certain special ...?! 

"That you shouldn't have been," she suggested to help me. 

I nodded, liking her understanding as it suddenly occurred to me that any couple talking in our situation probably agreed on any subject they discussed. I snorted and said: 

"Once she told me that she was just trying to be her own sister, ... trying to be a good one."

Martha laughed, and then I did, letting her slide down between my thighs and sit on the mattress. After a moment, she said: 

"We shouldn't be, either, ... if we asked anyone, ... but we're just doing what anyone would expect us to." 

"Um-hmm. ... Hmm! "Just trying to treat you as one of the family." 

"Um-hmm, ... like the fathers, treating their au pair like a second wife, ... I hope not like they treat their daughter." 

"Do they all?" 

"Enough, apparently, ... so that everyone warns them about it, even the organizations, ... discretely." 

"And your mother ..."

"Hmm! I guess she assumed your dad was too old, ... but you, 'the young gentleman' ..."

"Tell her I wasn't one, didn't act like one."

"Hm-hmm! Not even if she asks me! I'll tell her you were the perfect gentleman, even the week we were alone together. ... Might tell my brother, though."

"Really?"

"Don't know. ... I just said that. ... Hmm? Guess I was thinking I might. ... Hmm?" 

Martha smiled at me wryly in the candlelight. Then she looked down at him with a snicker as her hand found the rubber and slipped it off, holding it up as my sister had with a glance at me, then smiling a little as she looked at the full tip of the dangling rubber. 

I wondered if she was going to have her "second helping" again, but she didn't, but she did say: 

"Lie down; I want to clean him up."

With a chuckle, I lay back, moving away from her, and she leaned down and did, licking him where he was lying between my thighs, and then picking him up and sucking him into her mouth, her tongue exploring around him as she sucked. It was a very nice feeling, but he wasn't going to react. Then she looked up at me as she let him drop back down and crawled up over me, lying on me. She smiled down at me for a moment, and then kissing me, inviting me to put my tongue in her mouth, and I could taste it a little. 

You like it too, don't you?" she murmured as I held her, nodding, and continued: 

"It's just so good, holding it and feeling it, making it move, knowing you're making it feel so good, wanting it, ... all that white stuff. I just love it!"

While I was agreeing with her enthusiastic description, smiling at it, she realized - before I did - her use of the second person - "you're making it feel so good" - what she was suggesting and said "Oh!" in surprised tone and then said: 

"Oh, I guess that sounded like I wanted you to do it, thinking you would like it."

"Now that you say so, ..."

"Hmm? ... Was I? ... Sorry. I guess ... I was just thinking that anyone would like it."

"I'll admit that I'd be curious, especially after your enthusiastic description. It must be nice. Yes, I probably would like it, ... if ..., well, ... you know ..." 

Martha looked relieved at my response and murmured: "It's just so good, ... you would," and then grinned: "... if maybe like you could do it to yourself." I snorted with a grin and agreed: "Oh yes, I'm sure that would be good, real good, enjoying it both ways," and we both chuckled heartily.

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed: "... I can imagine ... I would like that, too, knowing just what I wanted. Oh, I would do it real good, ... at least as good as you do. I wonder what it's like. I know I would like it." 

Then she looked a little surprised at what she had said and murmured: 

"Oh!" and then looked at me and murmured again: 

"Funny, ... that we're talking about it this way, and ... aren't like that."

"Of course not, but one can still be curious - and think others should want to be. My sister said she was curious, too. ... Oh, I guess anyone who liked it and knew their partner liked it - as you were saying - would be curious, if they were honest with themselves." 

Martha nodded with a smile and then with a smirk as she snorted. Then she said:

"If were going to talk, let's turn around."

"And wash," I added as we started to move.

It was too late to start another beer, so we also disposed of our cans and returned the candelabra to its place before we returned to Martha's room.

"So much for my fresh bed," she remarked with a satisfied chuckle as we felt the moist spots and lay down. In the dark, we resumed our conversation, both of us apparently feeling that it belonged in the bedroom, and maybe in the dark, I thought as Martha remarked: 

"Curious," not as a question as we lay looking at the lights from the street on the ceiling.

""Um-hmm, but I can't see myself doing it, ... but I know of a couple of girls who were more than just curious.

"Oh? Really?!" Martha asked: ... "Girls you have slept with?" 

"Um-hmm."

"And they did it with you and with each other? ... Well, ... probably only one of them with you, but she told you about it?" 

"How else? Yes."

"Oh? ... And you know they did it with each other - another girl - and with you, ... at the same time? ... Not at the same time, - Hmm! - ... I mean, she did it with you, and then with her girlfriend, and then with you? ... You knew both of them? ... Well, maybe not 'that' way." 

"Hmm! And then with her girlfriend, and yes, I met them both," wanting to keep the story simple.

"Really! After they both knew you knew they did, ... together?"

"Worse, ... better, we all did, together."

"All three of you?! And them, too, together?!"

"Um-hmm."

"Really? ... Hmm! ... Hmm? I guess if they were that open about it, if they knew you knew ... Hmm! If they wanted too, ... must have been fun."

"Of course, if you don't mind my saying so. And not the least bit 'funny.' ... They said something about 'the best of both worlds'."

"Hmm! 'Best of both worlds?' I guess so. They sure knew how what they were doing was like for each other. ... Hmm?"

"That's what they said."

"Hmm! I figured that out for myself. ... I guess you didn't mind that they did, didn't think that they were 'funny' if they were including you. ... Hmm? Sounds a little like an orgy."

"Just a little one."

Hm-hm-hmm! ... I guess I shouldn't wonder that I was curious before. And your sister was? Did you tell her about them, too?"

"Um-hmm."

"Ha! You aren't a gentleman; 'gentlemen don't tell.'"

"Just don't tell your mother how you found out."

"Hm-hm-hmm! ... Can't tell my brother, either, ... nor about you and your sister, of course. ... I wasn't intending to, just so you know, ... since we've talked about that so much."

"Yeah, thanks. We have."

I found Martha's hand and held it, and we exchanged clasps. She rolled towards me and said:

"Goodnight kiss."

We kissed with "good nights" and curled up together, with my hand on her breast.

In the night, I remember rolling over, lying on my other side, but didn't notice that she did. But when I woke up, I was lying on my back, still not entirely awake, but aware of her head resting on my chest - nice and comfortable - and then aware that her fingers were cupped around my balls, and that I already had an erection - now more awake, of course. I wonder if Martha was dreaming: maybe about the previous evening, when she had been holding them and thinking it was so nice - or what else, about whom else? Her brother? Or one of the boys she had slept with? If it wasn't about me, I thought - if she were dreaming - I didn't want it to be about a previous boyfriend, and snorted slightly at the idea that I preferred her to be dreaming about her brother. I opened my eyes and discovered that it was just dawning.

By now, my cock had relaxed a bit; I could feel him resting on me. Then Martha's fingers moved slightly, but she didn't stir otherwise - still asleep, but if so, then dreaming. About whom? The questions repeated themselves, and I recalled that she had told about playing with their cocks, but not mentioned holding their balls. Maybe she was just dreaming about me - if she had liked that so much. Or was she projecting that onto being with some other guy? That would be even worse - unfair. My sister didn't have much choice: just me. I had to snort again, and after a moment, her fingers moved again, and her head slipped a little lower, but then she was still.

And I was still for a while, but then moved my feet a bit, and her fingers moved again slightly, and then after a moment, more consciously, as though they recognized what they were holding, and then wanting to massage them; yes, now knowingly moving them. Better than doing it, myself, I thought, and snorted silently again. She couldn't still be asleep, I thought, not the way her fingers were moving, making him stir again. But then I remembered how I had had been dreaming about my sister when Martha was touching me - more than just touching me! And he seemed to remember, too. 

But that had been different, her touching, influencing my dream. But sometimes in a dream, 

the impression that one was feeling something in one's hand was so strong, that it only faded after one had awakened from the dream. And if one were really holding what one was dreaming about ...? Or was she already awake, and just lying there, massaging them so familiarly, maybe recalling doing so the previous evening? And then we had finally done it. 

Maybe I snorted again, or maybe she felt his firmness with the back of her thumb; for whatever reason, her thumb nudged him a little, aware of him as her fingers drew my balls up, moving them gently. And then I felt her head nod slightly, and she muttered something: maybe a couple of words of Norwegian. What was she dreaming?! About whom?! And then she started to slide her head down under the sheet as her hand just held me for a moment, and then she was still again, and I tried to hold still, myself, wondering if she was awake or still sleeping, obviously dreaming if she were, but if she were awake, she wouldn't have stopped half way. What was she dreaming about then?! Her hand massaged me again, absent mindedly, like when it started to the night before.

Then after a few moments, her head nodded slightly and she murmured something that sounded like "you da" and then moved her head further, and then he touched her cheek, standing up higher than her mouth, but then her thumb pressed him down, sliding him down to her mouth as she turned her face up and then immediately had him in it, and then she was just nursing on him, "sucking her thumb." 

Was she really asleep! Doing it to me in a dream! Doing it to whom in a dream?! Could that happen?! I had been dreaming about my sister, but then Martha had been awake and finding my cock ...? But she seemed to be asleep, just "sucking her thumb," and little children did that, and that was all she was doing, just gently sucking, her tongue moving slightly each time.

But it wasn't her thumb she was sucking! Oooh, no! She was arousing my cock! How long could he stand that without reacting? Would it upset her dream if he did? If he even just surged? He did, but she didn't seem to notice, just kept on. Oh, if she were dreaming about sucking on a cock, that would be normal, expected. But if she was dreaming in Norwegian, dreaming she was doing it to someone else, it was going to be a great surprise when she woke up, and she probably would when he did more than just surge. 

I thought that I should somehow suggest where she was, maybe let it be part of her dream, and murmured very softly the first thing that came to mind: "Yes, ... that's good." 

Did I just imagine that she responded, that she had sucked a little harder in response? But he responded, surging strongly, making me want to rolled my hips up and push him deeper in her mouth, but I strained not to, and then she was just nursing on him and her fingers massaging gently again.

Was she still dreaming she was sucking someone's cock in Norway? 

"Mmmm," I moaned softly: "... you do that so good." 

And this time she really did respond, nodding her head slightly as she sucked and her tongue moved a little differently, and then she was really sucking a cock - no thumb sucking - sucking and exploring with her tongue, making him surge, and this time I let my hips move him, and she nodded with an "uhn-hnnnn" and a squeeze on my balls that couldn't be in a dream, I thought. And then he was moving gently - like the night before - and her fingers were grasping my tight scrotum, rubbing and stretching the skin, grasping and pulling at it as she sucked and licked my cock, making him want to come while her fingers were trying to delay my orgasm. 

And I wanted it both ways: to come, but somehow to prolong the wonderful anticipation before I did, before I had to, but then I couldn't help myself: I had to, had to let my hips thrust him quickly in and out her mouth, and she nodded, humming on him as she sucked harder, as though she wanted him to now, and he did, and she did, sighing with short moans as he came in her mouth - "all that white stuff" - and again and again!

God, it had been good! And she was still sucking, but I slipped my hand under the sheet and held her head, and she nodded and let her mouth and tongue still, just holding him, as I wondered what she had been dreaming.

Just a reminder:

Please don't bother to comment that they snort and smirk too much. I can't change what they do while talking about it so much. I certainly haven't, and doubt that most other people have. Don't we wish? Wouldn't we smirk and snort if we were in their situation? Isn't that why we are here? 



Martha in America Ch. 07



And this time she really did respond, nodding her head slightly as she sucked and her tongue moved a little differently, and then she was really sucking a cock - no thumb sucking - sucking and exploring with her tongue, making him surge, and this time I let my hips move him, and she nodded with an "uhn-hnnnn" and a squeeze on my balls that couldn't be in a dream, I thought. And then he was moving gently - like the night before - and her fingers were grasping my tight scrotum, rubbing and stretching the skin, grasping and pulling at it as she sucked and licked my cock, making him want to come while her fingers were trying to delay my orgasm. 

And I wanted it both ways: to come, but somehow to prolong the wonderful anticipation before I did, before I had to, but then I couldn't help myself; I had to, had to let my hips thrust him quickly in and out her mouth, and she nodded, humming on him as she sucked harder, as though she wanted him to now, and he did, and she did, sighing with short moans as he came in her mouth - "all that white stuff" - and again and again!

God, it had been good! And she was still sucking, but I slipped my hand under the sheet and held her head, and she nodded and let her mouth and tongue still, just holding him, as I wondered what she had been dreaming.

After a minute or two - at least it seemed that long - she licked him again as her hand slid up and held him, and then she rolled her head back a little and took him from her mouth, kissing him once, and then chuckling as she laid him down on me. Then she chuckled again under the sheet and then pulled it back and rolled over and looked at me with a smile and snort as I raised my head.

Since she seemed to want to stay lying like that on me, I pushed us both up towards the headboard with my feet so that I could rest my head against it.

"Hm-hmm," she snorted again with another little chuckle as she made herself comfortable, and then smiled and said: 

"That was real good, thank you," and then she snickered: I was dreaming, ... before ..." 

I nodded with a smile. 

"I guess you noticed," she went on: 

"... Oh, that was funny. When I noticed that you had rolled over, I rolled over and went back to sleep. And then when you were lying on your back, half asleep, I wanted to rest my head on you. You're a real good pillow," and she smiled again: 

"... and sort of unconsciously held you - like last night. 

"But then I fell asleep again and was dreaming. That was funny: I was all naked, but that didn't seem to matter - to me or anybody else. Oh, we were in a police station, ... yes, like in that film Sunday night - a police detective story - and they were interviewing me ... Funny, knowing I was naked, but that didn't seem to be noticed by the cops in uniforms. One was a woman - I guess, there because I was a girl - but she wasn't noticing either. They wanted me to identify a man, in a 'line up', you know, where the suspect is shown with other men."

Martha snorted with a smirk before she continue:

"And they were all my old boyfriends, the ones I had slept with; through a window, you know, a half mirror, so they couldn't see me in the darkened room with the others, the policemen, who seemed to think that I could identify the one who had done something with a younger girl. Oh, they had shown me a photo, but I didn't recognize her - attractive - so I was wondering how I should identify one of them for having done it."

Martha smiled at me, apparently liking the story of her dream - she knew how it continued. And I smiled back, intrigued, but had an inkling that the girl was my sister, ... that Martha had suppressed recognition of her in the dream. She went on:

"And I - all naked, but apparently not upset by that - but wondering how I should know which one had done it, and then said something about having to see them naked." 

She snorted with a smirk and said: 

"It didn't seem strange in the dream - just now, telling you - and didn't for the others either, and apparently not for the men - my old boyfriends - who were then suddenly naked, but the senior officer, who came into the room at that moment - that happened in the film - did. Oh, he looked like your father!" 

Martha looked surprised at this discovery, and I probably did, too, it fitted in too well with my idea that the girl had been my sister, and now that her dream was a subconscious effort to work out what she knew.

"I didn't recognize that in the dream," Martha said softly, but then went on: 

"Maybe he didn't. Anyway - dreams are strange, ... this one, especially - I found myself saying that I had to do it them. ... Hmm! Like I did. You must have been expecting that that happened, somehow."

I just nodded, too involved in the apparent background of her dream to grin. She continued: "But that didn't seem strange in the dream. Oh, this was all in Norway, in Norwegian. But I didn't understand, myself, how that was going to help me identify the right one, ... but somehow it seemed to make sense, - in the dream - and then I was with them, with the female police officer, about to start with the first one. ... They were lined up in chronological order, and she asked: 'You don't have to do it to all of them, do you?' I replied: 'Ju da.' We say that in reply to a negatively phrased question, here: that I did have to."

Martha smirked at me, and I smiled this time and nodded again, not wanting to interrupt her story by telling that she had spoken in her sleep.

"I was still wondering why, myself, and wondering why she had asked: if she were shocked or envious that I wanted to. ... Oh, she reminded me of your older sister. ... And then as I started, I realized that I wanted to compare them all with the American one that I somehow connected with the young girl; that I was thinking I could identify it, or this way, confirm that none of theirs was that one."

This time, I had to interrupt her, snorting and saying: 

"Sounds more like an excuse for wanting to do to them all. And everyone was still watching?" 

Martha grinned and nodded, and then shook her head as she went on:

"Maybe. No, the others just sort of disappeared then, but I guess the whole dream was a way for me to get to do it to all of them, you're right. Somehow, I was thinking I could skip the couple I shouldn't have slept with. ... Should I have slept with the others?" ... And then I was thinking that I only needed to do it to the first one. Oh, of course, I had never done it to any of them. I guess by then I was almost awake, sort of knew I was really doing it and that the dream was only a dream, that the others couldn't be there, just the one I was doing it to. And then I heard him speak English - still in my dream - and began to know that I was doing it to you, but still wanting it to be part of the dream, not wanting the dream to finish." 

I nodded and agreed: 

"Yeah, I know, dreams can be like that." 

Martha nodded with a quick smile and immediately continued: 

"Yeah, I wanted that, still with the police story in my mind, knowing I had found the one that belonged to the story about the girl. ... Sorry." And then - I guess to finish the dream - I was thinking that if you did it real good for me, I wouldn't tell anyone that it was you, and then I was awake, wanting to do it real good for you, so that you would - for me - and you did."

"I sure did, thank you. You sure did," ... It was real good, and your dream was too." 

Martha nodded with a grin as I continued: 

"Sorry that you didn't get to do it to all of them, but I guess the dream wasn't really about that." 

Martha nodded again with an understanding little smile of agreement:

"Yes, I guess not. That came out in the telling, not during the dream. I hope you don't mind. If I had thought of that before, I wouldn't have told you ..." 

"Or you wouldn't have remembered it," I interjected. 

She nodded, and then snorted with a grin and said: 

"But I fixed everything in the end, with your help." 

I nodded, and she snickered and added: 

"And they say, if you tell a dream before breakfast, it will come true. ... I 'fixed' that part, so maybe the part about my old friends will still come true." 

She sat up, looking down at me as we both chuckled, but then I pointed out that she hadn't really done it to them in the dream, and she looked a little disappointed for a moment as she nodded, but then smiled and said: 

"But I wanted to, had them all lined up." 

We both laughed, and then she continued with a grin: 

"Maybe, when I see them, I can tell them that I dreamt about them - that way - and we can make up for not having done it before." 

We both snickered again at this suggestion, and I said: 

"If you dare to tell them, I'm sure they will ... cooperate." 

Martha laughed, so much that her breasts moved, making me want to hold one, and I did. Then she looked down at me with a more serious expression, as though maybe she wanted me to do it to her, not aroused, but as though my touching her had suggested that we could, that I could. 

Her nipples stiffened as I fondled her breast, and she nodded slightly, and I softly said: 

"You wanted me to do it real good for you." 

"Um-hmm," she agreed, nodding again. 

I began to slide down the bed as I said: 

"And I want to, if you won't tell anyone, ... not even as a dream." 

A smile passed over her lips as she nodded, and followed my hands' urging her to kneel astride me as I moved even further down the bed. 

"But only if you do it real, ... very, very good," she remarked as she smiled down at me. 

Then, maybe because in the position we were in, it was unclear how I wanted to do it "very, very good" for her, she added: 

"My pussy can still remember how good we did it last night." 

I nodded again, urging her to move up over my mouth, and she nodded as though she appreciated that I had understood what she meant, and then her pussy was over my mouth, and I was trying to do make real good for her, "very, very good."

It's easy, when you love to do it; and even easier, when she knows what she wants and knows how to show you - doesn't hesitate to - and Martha didn't! . . . It was that good!

When she had relaxed again, she slid her hips back and stroked my wet cheeks with both her hands, chuckling, and then snickered and said: 

"I don't know how far along on the calendar we are, but it doesn't matter. We can't make up for lost time ... - Hmm! - ... lost times, ... just do it as much as we can." 

I nodded again, returning her smile, and agreed: 

"And it sure seems like we do, ... and - I hope - better than ..." 

I broke off my sentence for lack of the right words to finish it.

"Oh yes," Martha agreed, smiling just briefly at me: "...much better, thanks. I should have said that. ... But right now I have to go. I felt like I had to before, but you kind of distracted me." 

She smiled more broadly down at me before she started to get up.

She didn't wait for me as I followed her to the bathroom in morning light, stepping immediately into the tub and after a moment "going", facing the corner. I stepped in behind her and put my hand on her hip. 

"Hi, good morning," she said with a chuckle as she glanced around at me. 

"To you, too," I responded and stood closer to her, sliding my hand down around her hip as my other one slipped under her arm and held her breast. 

She chuckled again as my hand slid down into her stream, and hers held it there, letting it wet both our hands, and making me feel even more that I had to go, too. 

"Wait, ... if you can. I want to hold it." 

"Umm-hmm," I agreed, and she held my hand against her pussy, letting me feel the last of it on my fingers just where I had been been tasting her sweet love juice a couple of minutes before.

As soon as she finished, she turned around, drawing my hand up to her mouth and licking my palm as her other hand found my cock, snickering as I nodded with chuckle, and then I started to go, and she chuckled again as she directed it against herself, against her pussy, and then stepping back, looked down and watched as she played at directing it around and higher, catching it with her other hand against her stomach and sliding it up to her breast, then quickly doing that again as it started to die down. With a snicker, she tried to shake it, and then held her other hand up for me to lick, and I did, holding her wrist and licking her palm and fingers, and then I stooped down and licked her breast, arousing her nipple as I tasted it on her. 

"Um-hmm," she murmured appreciatively and held it up to me with her hand, as she added:

"You are really being really bad for me." 

"And loving it," I agreed as I stood back up. 

"Me, too," she replied with a smile, still holding my cock, but sliding her other hand around my waist as she looked up at me.

We kissed, at first more licking around each other's mouth, and then in them, and I wondered if she wanted to feel him move. But if she did, he disappointed her, and then we stopped, and she turned around and turned on the shower.

While I shaved, Martha started to dry herself, chuckling once, but she didn't say anything, and I wondered if she was recalling her dream again, but she could have been just chuckling about us, maybe about how we enjoyed being raunchy - how much we enjoyed being raunchy.

"Breakfast?" she asked. "Bacon and eggs," I replied, and she agreed with a cheerful "okay" and went off. It was still so early that I when I had finished shaving, I joined her in the kitchen without getting dressed. She gave me an appreciative glance and smile, and then I set the table while she finished making the coffee and eggs. I was thinking about her dream again, wondering what my big sister had to do with, and being glad my mother hadn't been involved - or was my sister a substitute for her? Not likely: asking if Martha really had to do it to all of them, and I snorted at the recollection of Martha's telling - "had them all lined up."

She noticed my snorted and glanced at me quizzically. 

"'Had them all lined up,' I was thinking about your dream," I explained. She grinned with a nod, and I added: 

"I was wondering what my other sister had to do with it." 

Martha glance back at me again with a smile and replied: 

"I don't know. I've only met her a couple of times. Maybe just being a big sister. My girlfriends told me that eldest sisters could sometimes act like they thought they were ... 'policing', ... trying to keep their younger siblings out of trouble. "

That sure hadn't been my older sister's attitude, wanting the younger one's first time to be good, better than hers had been.

Martha served her bacon and eggs, glancing at me with a look that suggested she was still thinking about what we had said. Then we sat down, and she smiled as she poured the coffee and commented: 

"Yes, I guess my dream sort of ..." 

She looked at me with a wry expression as though she wanted me to agree and finish her sentence. 

"Um-hmm," I nodded: "... sorted of ... tried to include everything." 

"Um-hmm," she agreed as I wondered at my neutral definition of our affair and all we had talked about. 

"Um-hmm," she repeated with a nod and the briefest little smile: "... everything. ... I still don't ..., still understand ..., you know, ... your sister. But I guess, ... I still had ..., couldn't avoid ..." and she left her sentence unfinished again. 

"Me either. Better than not avoiding it. Nice that you tried to resolve 'everything' in your dream. Thanks." 

Martha nodded with another little smile and I remarked: 

"At least you didn't have your brother in the line-up."

Martha snorted and almost laughed, maybe a little nervous relief; it was for me - that she had - and then with a smile agreed: 

"Yes, he was all that was missing, ... just as well." 

We started eating, and I was relieved that we had seemed to settle the subject that way.

After a few bites, she glanced up at me and then murmured: 

"Sorry. I just had to talk about it," and glanced at me again. 

"Hm-umm, ... I'm glad you did, ... that you said what you did, ... and, in a way, that ... you dreamt about it, ... that way. ... It's better so." 

Martha took another bite, nodding, and then looked up at me with a slight smile and nodded again, and I found myself thinking what my sister had said: "I just love you for that!" 

As I was trying to think of something else to talk about, the phone rang. It could only be my family, and I jumped up to answer it, suddenly very aware that I was naked as I hurried to the living room, feeling my cock and balls moving, usually a nice sensation, but now embarrassing, even more so when my mother answered: 

"Oh good. You're still there." 

Then she explained that they had considered that Martha could spend the next week on Fire Island with my sister, "sort of as a vacation for her before she went home," and as a favor to my sister, who wanted to stay there, and then she dropped her voice and explained that, of course, she couldn't stay there alone. I asked first if they were having a nice time. My mother said that they had, and then I thought to ask if I should ask Martha if she wanted to, remembering to pronounce her name the way my mother did.

"Of course," she replied: "... You could drive out on Sunday and come back with us, and one of us - no, two, for the other car - could pick them up the following weekend." 

"Just a minute," I replied, and went back to the kitchen to avoid speaking so my mother could hear, and asked Martha. She grinned and agreed immediately, and I returned to the phone and told my mother, who really seemed pleased, and then gave me greetings from the others and said they would call in the evening.

I was no longer embarrassed about my nakedness as I returned to the kitchen, pleased with this solution. Martha looked pleased, too, her nipples standing out as she smiled at me and said: 

"Oh, that's nice of them," and then in a different tone: 

"... and will make things easier. I was wondering how it would be ...." 

I nodded with a smile and agreed: 

"Me, too. We don't have much experience to fall back on, if you know what I mean." 

She nodded with mild smile and replied: 

"Yes, we hardly talked the few times you were here in the winter." 

Then she smirked and added: 

"Maybe just as well. My mother's warning was almost a suggestion," and we both snickered.

As I started eating again, I wondered if Martha had been thinking about the possibility all winter, feeling a little bad that it hadn't occurred to me - if she had been. And she probably had been, from what she had just said and the fact that she had only had the one opportunity with the Norwegian officer - and immediately taken it - and immediately taken the first one with me on Sunday evening. Anyway ....

"Um-hmm, ... I didn't need my dad's look as a suggestion," I said, picking up on her last remark and assuaging my conscience for not having taken proper notice of her during the winter. She gave me a nice smile in response, while I snorted at the inappropriateness of my "assuaging my conscience" and "taking proper notice" in that context.

"What are we going to do this evening," she asked, changing the subject. 

"Finish your meatloaf," I replied, to which she nodded: 

"... and then something you can write home about." 

She snickered and asked: 

"And what's that?" 

"I don't know," I admitted, and then suggested: 

"Maybe you can go out with Helga again?" 

"You really want me to?" she asked, looking surprised. 

"No, I replied, letting her look relieved: 

"... but it would be something you could write home about, ... and me too, so to speak." Martha grinned then, but replied: 

"She has a boyfriend. Friday night, they go out, ... or whatever," and she smirked. 




Martha in America Ch. 07



"Well, then, ... maybe you can just write home that you went out." 

"That's a good idea," she agreed and then asked: 

"And what will you do ... Friday evening?" 

That was a fair question and good suggestion, that we should both do something - "to write home about." 

"Oh," I replied: "... I'll probably have to go out with the other summer help for a drink. Yeah, that probably is really what will happen, for an hour at least." 

Martha nodded understandingly, and smiled briefly, and then asked: 

"Dinner at eight, then?" I nodded and then smirked and said: 

"If I can have a snack if I come home earlier." 

She smirked, too, with a nod, and agreed: "If it won't ruin your appetite." 

"I doubt it." 

"Since I'm supposed to be out with Helga, we can say that I warmed up the leftovers for you." "Um-hmm," I agreed and asked what Helga was like.

"Oh, she's nice," Martha replied: "... comes from outside Olso - down on the fjord - smaller than I am, but not petit, wavy dark hair. She wants to study art history, I think. We'll see each other at university." 

I nodded as I ate, and Martha took a bite, and then we finished our breakfast.

Since it was still early, I helped clean up the kitchen, appreciating Martha with my eyes as she moved around, wondering a little about us, and then stood near her as she put things back in the refrigerator and put my hand on her ass. She glanced at me with a smile and then continued putting them away. 

"What are you going to do today?" I asked. 

"I better do the laundry. I was thinking I could do it tomorrow, since your parents aren't coming back till Sunday, but then thought that maybe we could do something else." 

"Um-hmm, ... anything you want." 

She responded with a smile, but then said: 

"Maybe something else ..." with another smile. 

I just nodded, and then had to go and get dressed.

Martha followed me a minute or two later, leaning against my desk with nonchalance in her nudity as she watched me. Once, I stared at her breasts until her nipples stiffened. She just smiled, but I thought her thighs had twitched slightly, too. Then she rubbed her breasts with the heels of her hands. "Sorry," I murmured. She just nodded with another smile as she replied: 

"Felt good, ... just not for now .... I'm going to like doing the laundry, this away. It makes it kind of fun, being naked and doing tasks that usually aren't. I'll clean the kitchen and maybe vacuum." She snorted and added: "But we haven't spent much time anywhere. Oh, I can do the bathrooms." 

I nodded with a grin at this summary of where we had spent most of our time, and then she accompanied me to the door, not looking like she was expecting a kiss, but I gave her one anyway, again finding it a little strange to be dressed and holding her naked body to me. She must have felt the same way, glancing down at herself afterwards and then at me as she murmured "funny" with a smile, and then I was off.

After a week on the job, a certain routine had developed. The supervisor for the students seem satisfied with my work, and as I expected, at lunch someone suggested that we all go out for a drink "and get to know each other better." 

We met outside the building, and someone suggested that we go to an old Irish bar on Fifth Avenue. It was a "hold-out" against the development of a new office building that would fill the whole block, the old building standing at the edge of the great hole for the foundation. Inside, nothing seemed to have been changed since the place was built, a stark contrast to the new development, but comfortable, and the group agreed that it deserved our trade for not giving in to the developer's attempt to buy it out.

The guys ordered beer, and most of the girls ordered a glass of wine - only one, something non-alcoholic. Then we exchanged information about where we were going to college and what we were studying - the usual introductory discussion. Someone knew that I was a gymnast, so I had to tell a little. And a couple of the guys seemed to be most interested in learning more about the girls, of course. It was about what I had expected. Most of us had a second drink, and then there was some friendly joshing about college rivalries, and a little discreet competition for the attention of the girls with their varying responses: the one or other accepting an invitation for another glass of wine; another insisting that she would pay for own - but having one. Still another demured and nursed the one she had.

If I hadn't been looking forward to the evening with Martha, I probably would have joined in the competition and not observed everything so clearly, but that was interesting, too, and apparently made me more interesting: one of the girls asking me if I wasn't going to have another beer. So I did and offered to buy her a drink, and she accepted. When they came, I held my glass up and almost said "skaal", and we drank. As I looked back at her, I understood what Martha had meant about American drinking customs. 

But then as we chatted, I was wondering how to avoid any suggestion that we go somewhere else. I glanced at my watch and said that I had said I would be home by eight o'clock. When she looked disappointed, I said apologetically: 

"I should have thought that we might go out for a drink, ... Friday night." 

She smiled and looked more understanding, and then added - maybe in response to my mentioning home: 

"I'm sharing an apartment for the summer, ... well most of the time, when she isn't flying. Her roommate got married, and she needed someone to move in as soon as possible, until she decides if she will stay there - with someone for longer - or whatever. She flies overseas - United - away for three or four nights." 

I nodded, wondering if she meant her explanation to be as suggestive as it could seem. I had already learned that she was going to be junior at Sarah Lawrence College, whose students were reputed to be liberal, not just in the arts. 

"You are lucky," I remarked, and then grinned facetiously, thinking I had nothing to lose, and added: 

"Let me know when she's flying to Sydney." 

She seemed immediately to understand my implication and replied: 

"I didn't mean that, ... that way," but then she couldn't repress a smile and added: 

"But I guess it could have sounded like it." 

I nodded and agreed: 

"It did, ... or at least could have." 

We both snickered and had a sip from our drinks as I thought to myself that it didn't hurt to be a bit fresh.

And she didn't seem to have minded, only mildly changing the subject by remarking that Bronxville, where Sarah Lawrence is, wasn't far from Columbia, letting me think that she could be suggesting that we see each other during the winter. Then we chatted about other things. We knew we could find each other in the company and didn't have to exchange addresses or phone numbers. When she suggested another drink - "on me" - I refused, saying that I didn't want to be too high when I got home, which was true, and then I left, saying: "Till next time," and she looked pleased, and then I was on my way "home." 

I walked up Fifth Avenue, thinking the fresh air - on a hot summer evening in the City? - and the walk would be good after three beers, and then wondered about a "next time," and then admonishing myself for thinking about that while on my way to spend another night - and day and night - with Martha. But then I rationalized that it fitted in with our understanding that our affair was just for the week, and that it also demonstrated that I wasn't too emotionally involved - just loving her when we were making love. But that wasn't such a nice thought either; it sounded fine when we had just been doing it, but a little cheap at that moment. 

Then I wondered how Martha felt about it, hoping that she felt like I did, but without having to go through my last thoughts. But she hadn't been in my situation - the suggestion of possibly doing it with someone else - so that wouldn't have occurred to her. I hoped not, not liking the thought that if she had been, she might have had the same thought I had had. No, she had been home, naked, doing laundry and cleaning - a nice vision - and then next week she was going to be on Fire Island with my sister, and at the end of the month she was going home. Fire Island: what kind of bathing suit did she have? Would she and my sister somehow agree to go naked? Of course! Martha had said that she had a couple of times – no, just topless. But they probably would, my sister's wanting to, and Martha knowing about us. If - when - they got naked, would they talk about me? They certainly had enough to share, and Martha knew it!

The short uptown blocks go fast with such thoughts and questions, and then I was only wondering how Martha would greet me when I opened the door, but first, I was just entering the building, greeting the doorman, and then in the elevator.

When I opened the door, she called "Hi" and then came to greet me, wearing a dress - another one - smiling and making me forget about my uncomfortable thoughts on the way home. 

"Hello," I answered as she came closer. She chuckled and said: 

"You smell like you've been in a bar." 

"I have, ... three beers." 

"... and a lot of cigarette smoke," she added, grinning. 

"I guess so, I didn't know you could tell." 

"Um-hmm," she confirmed and then said: 

"Give me your jacket and I'll brush it." 

"Does that help?" I asked as I took it off and handed it to her. 

"Some," she replied and went off with it, while it occurred to me that I probably hadn't heard about that before, since no one smoked in our family, and we seldom went to bars like that one; my parents, never.

Martha returned with my jacket after I had gone to the bathroom and was beginning to change, hanging it on my chair while I appreciated that there was something especially attractive about her simple dress; not so much the dress, but the way it fit her when she moved. It wasn't tight, but it seemed to accentuate her strong thighs - certainly didn't hide them. Then it occurred to me that artists and cartoonists drew dresses fitting that way, but in reality they seldom did. Martha noticed me looking at her and smiled and explained: 

"I went out, got some more beer, and then it seemed too ..." and she looked questioningly: "... too 'something' to take it off again." 

I nodded, and she went on: 

"Just as well, your mother called again, saying that we should be there for lunch. I would have felt funny if I had been naked, talking to her." 

I nodded again with a snort, and Martha grinned and said: 

"Oh, you probably felt that way when she called this morning." 

"I sure did," I agreed, grinning back at her: 

"... and good that you got the beer, thanks." 

Martha nodded with a smile and explained: 

"Yes, this time, I wondered if the doorman would notice and brought it back hidden in a bag from Macy's." 

"Good idea, he probably would have, and noticed that no one else is here. If you want, we can get some on Sunday for you to have on the island." 

She snorted with a quick smile and then told me that my mother had also said that she could use the car on the island, if it was really necessary, but that they would prefer that she didn't. By then, I had finished changing, and we left my room. "My sister will find a reason to go out," I remarked as we went to the kitchen.

It wasn't eight o'clock yet, and apparently after the beers and chips from the bar I didn't want a snack before dinner, and our conversation hadn't gone in that direction either, even though I had changed my slacks. Martha had already started to prepare the leftovers, and she had also started on a beer, glancing at me apologetically when she saw that I noticed the can. 

"I didn't want you to get too far ahead of me," she remarked with a grin. 

"I'll slow down for you," I replied, then thinking that was an unintentional but slightly witty way to indicate that I didn't want another beer immediately.

As Martha finished heating up the meal, she snorted to herself and then remarked: 

"The nice thing about doing the laundry that way is that you can do everything, know that absolutely all your clothes are clean. It always seems a little frustrating, doing it and knowing that what you have on isn't clean, like especially when you go on a trip, not wanting wear the same underwear, but also not wanting to leave it behind." 

She glanced at me for my response, and I chuckled in agreement, able to appreciate the situation, although I had never done my own laundry till I was in college. 

"I wish I could have helped you," I remarked: "... or at least have watched." 

She smiled in response as she started to dish up, and then asked if we wanted to eat in the dining room, "since we're all dressed up." 

So we did, and I lit the candles again, which reminded her to tell that she had bought new ones: "the same kind," which in turn reminded me that I wanted to pay her back for them and the beer, but it didn't seem the right time to mention that, making me wish that I had given her money for them before hand.

Then I did get a beer, and she another one, in glasses, and we sat down. For a moment, I wondered if she was wanting to say grace again. She seemed to hesitate before picking up her knife and fork, and I would have liked it if she had, but then she just smiled at me with a nod, as though she understood, and then snorted slightly and said: 

"I can't even say I hope you enjoy it; we've had it already." 

"But I will," I assured her, and we began eating.

Of course, we skaaled, and then I told her about my experience in the bar, having to adapt my story in midstream from just drinking with the girl to making it a group toast, but Martha liked that I had remembered and appreciated her feelings, and asked about the group. I told her, relating my impressions, and she chuckled. When I had finished, she skaaled me, and then after a moment changed the subject.

"What do you think your sister will ask ...? You know, ... about us?" 

"Good question. You're right; she probably will, ... or will be wondering. Certainly she will be wondering. It's not a question of what she will ask, but rather, if she will ask." 

Martha nodded, and I had another bite, and then went on: 

"You can tell her whatever you want. She probably would like to know that we have. If she asks, she will be thinking that we must have, ... and probably won't believe that we haven't - no matter what you say."

"That's sort of what I thought. I was thinking about it today." 

"Um-hmm, and if you say so, ... Oh, tell her; she won't mind, said she knew I was going to be with other girls. If she asks, she'll think more of you for being honest."

"Hmm! I hope so, if she asks. ... Hmm? If she knows we have - even assumes it - will she think ...?"

"We've talked about her? Oooh! I don't know, hadn't thought of that. ... What do you think?"

"We have. She knows you a lot longer than I do, ... that way too. I'd better assume that she does think so." 

"I think you're right, ... sort of like talking about your brother. ... Hmm! You wanted to tell me about him. ... Maybe she - if she knows about us - will want to ..., like it if she can talk with you. ... I have.

Martha nodded with a slight smile as I continued: 

"Yes, if you talk about it, tell her that, that I thought that it was nice - good - to be able to talk with you, ... dream and all."

"Hmm, thank you."

"No, thank you!"

Martha smiled understandingly with nod and the then replied:

"It will be interesting."

Then she snorted with a smile and replied brightly: 

"Oh, I know, if it comes to that, ... maybe if she just tells me, I can say that I did with my brother, too, putting me in the same situation: understanding - and I do - and having to keep the same secret."

"Hmmm!" I snorted with a smile and nod and added: 

"She would like that; we talked about whether many other siblings did it. But you'd better be prepared for more questions then." 

Martha snorted softly and returned my smile and nod as she replied: 

"I've got a start, but I'd rather like not having to make up a story. ... I could just say that we did it once, and then didn't do it again. Yes, that would suggest it doesn't have to happen again." 

I nodded, liking her idea and agreed: 

"That's a nice idea ... - before or after your first time? She'd want to know about that, too."

Martha chuckled with a nod and replied: 

"Yes, I guess so. This will be interesting. ... I don't know. My first time was too good not to stay being my first time, and wouldn't make sense if it weren't. I guess I won't go that far, ... just what really happened, ... if we talk about it at all."

I nodded, and offered a skaal, and she responded with a nice smile and nod, and then we finished our meal in silence, just exchanging glances.

I said: "Takk for maten," and raised my glass, and she replied: "Vel bekomme," and we drank, finishing our beers. Then we cleared the table and blew out the candles and cleaned up the kitchen, both of us silent, like after our first dinner. And again it seemed like we were anticipating what would follow, but that it wasn't so clear just what that would be, and it occurred to me that I needed to shower and shave, but I didn't want to mention it too suggestively. 

Then I remembered my question about what kind of bathing suit Martha had, and asked her. She looked pleased that I had broken our silence with a change of subject, smiling as she answered: 

"Oh, I've a got a bikini and a one-piece one, conservative enough, but I've grown since I got it. That was the summer after I had to start wearing bras, but it's jersey and stretches." 

"You can give me a fashion show." 

She nodded with a chuckle as I realized that we had found away to get out of our clothes - her clothes, at least - and then I added: "While I shower." 

She nodded again with a grin.

As we went back to her room, I was wondering if we should take the other candelabra with us, but didn't want to suggest candlelight in her bedroom at that moment, and she let me go into the bathroom alone, turning to find her bathing suits as I started to take off my clothes, finding it a little strange to be there alone. 

"Which one first?" she called as I got into the tub and pulled the shower curtain across. 

"The older one," I replied, and then was quickly showering and peeing again. 

"Here, look," she said a minute or two later. 

I stuck my head outside the curtain and saw her standing in a one piece suit that did indeed look like it had been bought when she was a little younger, something like what girls on swimming teams wear. 

"Nice, ... something Mother would approve of." 

Martha smiled impishly and started to slip off the straps, but then turned and left, and I shaved under the shower. 

It seemed like it was taking her too long to change, but then she was back, saying: 

"Look again," and I did. 

This time she had on a bikini more like the one my Diotima had had: just triangles over her breasts and a low-cut bottom. I remarked: 

"Even nicer. But Mother would not approve, at least not on my sister."

"She's your mother and won't see it. Oh, and if I want to sunbathe without it, what will your sister think?"

"She'll be wanting to, maybe suggest it herself."

"That's good."

"Might to lead to more talk, however."

Martha nodded with a grin, and then I was finishing shaving as I heard her raise the lid of the toilet and then faintly heard her using it as I turned off the shower. After a moment, she offered: "Here's your towel," and handed it to me past the curtain, and I started to dry myself as she flushed, wondering a little that we both seemed to have agreed to delay being nude together for as long as possible, but it couldn't be for much longer, and her using the toilet suggested that she could have taken off her bikini by then. It didn't seem likely that she would expect me to open the curtain with my towel wrapped around me.




Martha in America Ch. 07



But then she pulled the curtain open, standing in the nude and smiling at me as she said: 

"I couldn't let you have to be naked all by yourself, ... though it was tempting to see what you would do," and she grinned. 

"Maybe put my clothes back on and go home," I suggested as I stepped out of the tub. 

"Oh, then I'm glad I did," she replied: "... but I liked that we didn't before, dinner, and waiting. That was nice; that you didn't suggest it. I would have, but it was nice that we enjoyed ourselves with clothes on." 

I nodded and agreed: 

"I was thinking that too, but then wondering what would happen, not wanting to say anything, myself." 

"Um-hmm," she agreed and took my towel from me and hung it up as she added: 

"And I still don't," and she snorted and added: 

"Well sort of, but not immediately. I turned off the lights and got the candles." 

"Um-hmm, I was thinking about them before, too," I replied, and then she took my hand and turned off the light in the bathroom, and we went into her candlelit bedroom.

Martha squeezed my hand and then slipped into her bed, moving over and holding up the covers, and I slipped in next to her, sliding my arm under her head. 

"Um-hmm," she agreed softly, and then my other hand found her breast. 

"Mmmm, ... hm-umm, ... I just want to lie here next to you." 

I nodded and rolled onto my back, and she cuddled up closer to me again with another "um-hmm," drawing her thigh up on mine as her hand slid down, and her fingers slipped around my balls, massaging them gently like she had done the night before. 

"I just love to hold you this way," she murmured, and her fingers moved familiarly. 

"Um-hmm," I agreed and rubbed her back: "... me too." 

She nodded her head on my shoulder as she went on: "It's a lot better than just doing it the way it happened sometimes - not with you - more intimate, ... being able just to be like this: all naked and close," and her fingers moved: "... without feeling like we have to do it, ... without feeling like I have to do it, because that's all he wants."

"Um-hmm," I agreed again: "... real good, ... for me, too, ... 'more intimate'." 

Martha nodded again, and then was silent for a few moments as her fingers just moved gently on my balls.

"I just love to feel you this way," she murmured again softly: "... to know I'm holding you," and she chuckled softly: "... holding this part of you, ... what makes you a man." 

She chuckled again as her fingers demonstrated what she meant. 

"And I just love to hold you in my mouth, ... that's so good, ... better than when someone just wants to do it, and I'm not ready for it yet, even though I want it, ... but not yet. But being able to do that, knowing it's so good for you. ... But you never are like that, just wanting to do it. ... Oh, that was wonderful, the first night, ... that you did it to me, ... and that I then wanted to, to just try it, still thinking we had to do it. It was so arousing - like I told you - and then so much more arousing when I realized that I wanted to really do it. ... Oh, I just love you for that!" 

Her thigh pressed down on mine as her fingers moved my balls.

I nodded and held her closer, wondering if I should reply as I enjoyed her feeling my balls, but she seemed satisfied just with what she was doing and maybe also a little pleasantly aroused, I thought when I felt her thigh twitch again. 

"Mmmm, yes, that was wonderful," I murmured: "... it was so arousing when you said that you wanted to, arousing to know that you wanted to try it for the first time, and then almost unbearably good, anticipating, when you said you were going to, wanted to like it. That was just so good, knowing you wanted to really do it, that it was your first time, and that you wanted it to happen, wanted to let me do it, that I was going to be the one who let you enjoy it the first time. That was especially arousing. I just loved that."

"Um-hmm, like that," Martha murmured as her hips rocked up against me and her thigh slid down a little between mine and held me. 

"Um-hmm," she repeated: "... it was like that," as her fingers continued to move my balls.

Then she chuckled softly and said: 

"I remember: when I started, I was thinking to myself: and I had to come all the way to America to find out about this; and then as I was telling you about it afterwards, that thought suddenly returned and I was thinking it had been worth it - having to forego having sex to discover it and that I just loved it." 

Her thigh held mine tighter again, and I rubbed my hand on her side in response, enjoying hearing her telling about it so much that I was afraid anything I might say would somehow suggest we should stop just talking about it. 

She massaged my balls and then snickered softly and said: 

"I should have thought of that before. It was sort of unfair - if I felt that way - to talk about trying to make up for the missed times; that was enough ... and everything else, too." 

She snickered again as I chuckled with a nod and then replied: 

"But it was fun trying, and we agreed this morning that that wasn't our goal any more." 

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed cheerful, and tilted her head back to look up at me as she nodded with a smile. I rubbed her cheek, and then she relaxed her neck again, her head slipping back to where it had been, and my hand unconsciously slid down to her breast, just resting on it.

Her fingers stilled, and we just lay there like that, really as intimate as we could be together, it occurred to me. Having sex together is very intimate, I thought, but being able to not have sex is even more so, somehow. "A greater meeting of the minds," occurred to me as an expression for it. And again, it seemed that anything I could say would only upset our special intimacy. Maybe we really didn't have to do it. My cock didn't seem to feel like we did, and her soft nipple - I could just feel where it was in my palm - seemed to suggest that she didn't either.

"But I want to," she murmured, apparently to whatever she had been thinking as her fingers moved again. 

"Want to what?" I asked softly. 

"This is just so good," she replied softly: "being able to talk about it and not having to do it, just enjoying being like this, ... being able to be like this." 

"That's what I was just thinking," I agreed, liking her confirmation of my "a greater meeting of the minds." 

"But I want to," she repeated: I want to just hold him, more intimate than just holding you like this," and her fingers moved again. 

She snorted softly and continued: 

"Oh, I know, if I do, something else will happen," and she snorted again - and I did too: 

"... but in theory, I just want to hold him, and her hand slid up and found my cock as I had to snort at her "but in theory." 

"Nice and floppy," she murmured: "... can't you tell him to just stay that way?" 

"I doubt it, ... he has a mind of his own in his little head." 

Martha snickered softly as her fingers played with him, experimenting with his floppiness, and then she let go of him and flung back the covers so she could see him as her hand found him again, but after a few seconds, he wasn't floppy, just wobbly as her fingers held him and made him move. Martha snorted and agreed: 

"Yes, I guess so," as we both watched him wag back and forth. 

"But I still want to," she murmured as her fingers played at moving the loose skin around on him and moving it up and down a little, and he wasn't wobbly any more, just moving with her hand.

"He would like that," I murmured: "... and I want to, too." 

"But not with him," Martha replied with a snicker: "... He's mine," and started to move her head down towards him. 

"He's all yours," I agreed: "... I want you to have him, to kiss him. And if you want to hold him, I want to kiss your other soft, moist mouth, just kiss you, if you want to just hold him." 

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed: "... I would like that, too," and she slid further down and gave him a kiss and then turned around on the bed as I slid myself down it. 

Martha raised her thigh, exposing her pussy in the light from the candles as her hand found my cock again, but waiting for me to rest my head on her thigh and draw her hips to me with both hands and draw my thigh up under her head before she let him slip between her lips. And then I found her other soft lips, kissing them and tasting that she was already as aroused as my cock was, hoping it was also letting her taste that it was aroused, the slippery, salty taste that she had liked the first time, that had helped her want to taste more.

Then we were trying to just enjoy it with our mouths: she just holding me as I gently kissed her, just nibbling with my lips and sucking as I held her firm ass with both hands. It was so intimate, like she had said she wanted, as intimate as we could be - "a greater meeting of the minds" - both of us just wanting to enjoy being as physically close as possible, enjoying the sexual arousal that each of us felt and knew that the other was feeling: my stiff cock in her mouth and her moist pussy on my lips.

Doing this with my Diotima, and with Pam and Sukie - and my sister - had always been good, but this was different. "A greater meeting of the minds?" A strange way to describe pure physical - sexual - intimacy. But if we both understood that we weren't seeking sexual satisfaction - and being this close to doing it - it must be a great common understanding - a meeting of the minds. And when we wanted to do it, then that would be, too. Oh, I just loved Martha!

And she just loved to nurse on my cock, just keeping him aroused as she sucked, and her tongue gently moved, the rough surface of it rubbing on its head. It was so loving and intimate, much more so than just fucking - especially like that had been in the winter. Oh, that was always good - more or less - but doing this, a girl's wanting to do this, was so much more intimate and loving. Or maybe not? I loved to do it to every girl, just loved to do it for my own enjoyment - hoping, of course, that it was good and special for her. Only Martha had said how much she liked to do it - also my sister, but my recollections about what we had done and said were becoming diffuse after all the nights with Martha. But still, this was special - Martha was special - both of us wanting to do it like this, to enjoy the shared intimacy of being like this, keeping each other aroused without feeling as though we had to do more. 

But we loved that, too; Martha loved to have me come in her mouth, loved to taste it and know that it had been so good for me, like I loved to taste her sweet love juice and know I had made it so good for her. Was she waiting for me to suggest it after having said that she just wanted to hold him, but knowing that we eventually would?

My tongue slipped between my lips, and then between hers - all slippery! She nodded and sucked with an "uhn-hnn," sucking him deeper in her mouth, making him surge, and responding with another "uhn-hnn," and then with a moan deep in her throat as my tongue found her aroused clitoris and her pelvis moved. 

Oh yes, we wanted to now! Each of us wanted the other to enjoy it as much as possible now, and our mouths wanted to enjoy doing it! It was so good to lick her aroused pussy, tasting it and finding her aroused hole, plunging my tongue into it as I felt her suck my cock deeper in her mouth. Was she thinking that she was complementing what I was doing? I was fucking her with my tongue while she was fucking him with her mouth, each of us trying to do with our mouth what our sex organs wanted to do with each other. But we both just loved to do it this way. Oh, we loved to fuck, but it was so good to do it with our mouths, to taste each other, and to know that we both loved to do it this way and to experience it this way!

It felt so good, what she was doing with her mouth, and her gently rocking pelvis suggested that what I was doing felt just as good for her. I hoped so as I clutched the cheeks of her ass, like she was holding mine, neither of us making a move to touch, excite each other with our fingers. Yes, we wanted to try to just enjoy this as long as we could, and I tried to control myself despite the wonderful way she was arousing my cock, making me want to thrust it deeper into her mouth, but I resisted, just letting him surge - not able to keep him from surging as I nibbled on her aroused clitoris. But I wasn't going to be able to resist much longer! And Martha seemed to recognize that I was about to come, and wanted me to, wanted to arouse me more, her fingers slipping in to find my asshole. 

"Uhn-hnnnn!" I hummed with my nose buried in her cunt and found hers. Yes, now we just had to come! My cock surged as my asshole moved under her fingers, and then I had to let him moved, and her hand and finger encouraged me as she held him firmly to the roof of her mouth with her tongue and sucked, letting him fuck her slowly. But then I couldn't resist the reflex to let my hips jerk quickly. "Uhn-hnnn!" Martha acknowledged, then moaning as he came - pleased, aroused moans each time he spurted. Oh yes, she loved it, to do it and make me come, let me give her "the proof of my pleasure!" 

And it aroused her, her pelvis twitching against my mouth, wanting me to make her come now as she just held him, now moaning in response to what I was doing, moaning each time her hips moved her engorged clitoris as I sucked and licked it and felt her asshole contract, and then relax and let me probe in it, probe deeper after each contraction, her finger still in mine, encouraging me. She wanted to feel it like that, like I was, both of them moving in us. Oh yes, she liked that, my finger moving in her clutching asshole, clutching like her aroused cunt as she gasped and moaned as her thighs quivered and clasped my head. And then she almost bit me as she spurted the first time. "Ummm!" I responded as her sweet love juice bathed my face, and then again and again - so much, being so good for her! Her thighs quivering as she came again and again as she gasped around my cock, and I was almost as aroused, my hips moving him in her half-opened mouth.

When she drew her head back, I already anticipated her aroused demand. "Fuck!" she gasped, raising her thigh as she rolled on her back. My hand swept under the pillow and found a rubber, and I raised myself up on my knees as I tore open the foil, and then had it on as I got between her open thighs and dropped down over her as my hand guided my cock into her wet cunt.

"Uhnnn!" she gasped as it went into her, and her thighs held me as I supported myself on my elbows and held her head, and then we did. We kissed, our mouths wide open as our tongues sought each other. And then she was just gasping and moaning again as we fucked, she rocking her hips up to meet my thrusts, and her cunt clutching my cock as it went deep in her, and then she started to come again, gasping and groaning. And I did, coming again as she spurted, my hips smacking up against her ass as her drawn up thighs quivered and clutched my waist, fucking her until she gave a final gasp and relaxed.

I dropped down on her, heavy on her as our stomachs heaved, and her thighs slipped down. And then our breathing slowly returned to normal, at first, both of us inhaling at the same time, and then I held my breath for a moment so that we were alternating, hers and then my stomach expanding.

After exchanging several breaths like that way, Martha murmured: 

"God, that was good. ... I just had to do it again!" 

"Me too. I wanted to, too." 

"Um-hmm," she snorted in agreement, her stomach moving under mine.

I rolled off her, and she immediately found my cock in the rubber and slipped it off.

She smirked at me and said: 

"You know what I want to do now," and with another smirk she squeezed the contents from the rubber into her mouth. 

"Kiss me, I want it, too," I murmured.

With a muffled chuckle, Martha clambered over me and waited for me to open my mouth, opening hers after it was on mine, our tongues finding each other as my come slid into my mouth. 

"Let's go sleep in my bed," I suggested. 

Martha felt the wet spot where she had come twice and nodded with a smirk and agreed: "That's a good idea," and then smirked again and suggested: 

"We can come back here, if we want to do it again in the morning." 

I snorted with a smirk of my own and asked: 

"Wasn't that enough?" She grinned and replied: 

"It sure was, thank you, but from experience ..." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed with a smile adding: "I hope so," and she snickered with a nod.

Then we got up and went to the bathroom, using the toilet and washing and disposing of the rubber, and then went back and blew out the candles and in the dark found our way to my bed.

It was nice, joining her in a fresh bed, and then with my hand on her breast, after saying good night, we fell asleep.

I rolled over at sometime, vaguely aware of the narrower bed in my half sleep as I moved back from the edge, feeling Martha's hips and back against mine, nice and comfortable to know she was there, and then I fell asleep again. Then I was mildly stirred when she turned over sometime, but then was sleeping again.



Martha in America Ch. 08



With a muffled chuckle, Martha clambered over me and waited for me to open my mouth, opening hers after it was on mine, our tongues finding each other as my semen slid into my mouth. 

"Let's go sleep in my bed," I suggested. 

Martha felt the wet spot where she had come twice and nodded with a smirk and agreed: "That's a good idea," and then smirked again and suggested: 

"We can come back here, if we want to do it again in the morning." 

I snorted with a smirk of my own and asked: 

"Wasn't that enough?" She grinned and replied: 

"It sure was, thank you, but from experience ..." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed with a smile adding: "I hope so," and she snickered with a nod.

Then we got up and went to the bathroom, using the toilet and washing and disposing of the rubber, and then went back and blew out the candles and in the dark found our way to my bed.

It was nice, joining her in a fresh bed, and then with my hand on her breast, after saying good night, we fell asleep.

I rolled over at sometime, vaguely aware of the narrower bed in my half sleep as I moved back from the edge, feeling Martha's hips and back against mine, nice and comfortable to know she was there, and then I fell asleep again. Then I was mildly stirred when she turned over sometime, but then was sleeping again.

When I woke up, at first aware of Martha behind me and then opening my eyes, a little surprised to me in my own room in the early light, but then remembering that we had come there after making love in her bed. I took a deep breath at that thought; we sure did that good, then thinking: it must be nice to be married; waking up every morning like that. And then I remembered that it was Saturday, that we didn't have to get up early, but that it was also our last day together, but still a whole day together and still one more night. Although a couple of days earlier I had sort of assumed that we would want to be trying to make up for all her lost times, that now didn't seem so important. No, that had been so nice the night before; the discovery that it was more intimate not to do it. Well, we had, but even better then - "a greater meeting of the minds." I took another deep breath and sighed at this somehow reassuring thought.

That must have stirred Martha; her hand slid over my side and down and held me.

When I held it with mine, she drew her thighs up behind mine and then said: 

"Oh, it's you. Good morning," and then snorted as though she were a little surprised, and then added: 

"I was dreaming," and she snorted again and then after a moment said: 

"I don't know if I should tell you." 

I just squeezed her hand in response, wondering what she could have been dreaming about this time: another man, or her brother? But she wouldn't hesitate to tell me about a dream about her brother, I thought, nor probably about another man.

Martha snorted again, and when I squeezed her hand again, she held my breast. Then I felt her take a deep breath, her stomach pressing against my back, and then after still another snort she said: "I was dreaming about next week, ... at least it was at the beach, and your sister was there." She snorted again before she continued: "Funny, I know it must have been your house, but - as I remember it - it was the summer house of our friends on the south coast - on ... well, near a beach. I don't know what your place is like, but it was on the beach, and your sister was there, so it must have been about next week, ... the dream."

Um-hmm," I agreed, not wanting to intrude further on what she was saying. 

Martha snorted again and then continued: 

"I was naked, ... again; ... you said that we would probably sunbathe nude."

I nodded

"Well, I guess that says most of it: we were nude, ... both of us, ... and, ... well ... you know what we talked about ..." 

I nodded, wondering at first, but then remembering her saying that she wondered what it was like for me to do it to her - after she had said that I would like it, what she did. 

"We didn't," she continued: "... but somehow that was what the dream seemed to be about, and she snorted again as she rubbed her hand up and down on me and added: 

"And my only real thought was about how I was going to tell you. ... Funny."

Um-hmm," I responded, more as a snort than in reply, and then did: 

"Well, I guess ... with your dream, you sort of did." 

Martha chuckled and nodded, and then after moment, she snickered and asked: 

"And that makes it all right, like the first night: Mom and your Dad?" 

I had to snort and chuckled, myself, before I agreed: 

"If you want it to, ... if you want to. ... At least you don't have to worry about having to tell me ... now, ... if that was what the dream was about." 

Martha snorted softly again, nodding against my back again, and agreed: I guess not. ... And I guess I must have been thinking about it .... I must have been, ... I was, if it was in the dream ..." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, squeezing her hand again. 

"Um-hmm," she responded: "... if you don't mind?" 

"Hm-umm," I agreed: "... why not? I did, ... and she was curious, ... is curious." 

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed, and then after a moment added softly: "Me too."

Her hand slid down from my breast, past my navel, and then found my hair, her fingers gently playing in it for a moment, and then slipping down and gathering up my balls, pulling my soft skin up until they could hold them both and then massaging them gently. I murmured:

"You'd like it, ... I do, ... and those other girls do." 

Martha snorted slightly as her fingers continued to move - they were good at that - and then chuckled and said: 

"I think you want me to. ... That's funny, being like this, and you telling me I'd like doing it with a girl," then she snickered at what she had said, maybe a little nervously at having said it.

"I guess so," I agreed with a snort: "... but why not? Can't think of anything better to do together?" 

"Hm-hmm! Hm-umm!" she agreed softly and then after a moment added: "I think I would, too, ... like it, ... but ...? And those girls told you, after sleeping with you again, ... and were going to do it again ...?" 

Her fingers were still as she waited for my answer: 

"Um-hmm, those two at least: 'the best of both worlds'." 

Martha snorted sharply and replied: "I guess so, ... if you find out you like it, ..." and she snickered again, and her fingers resumed their massaging as she added: "both ways." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed, wondering if they would and thinking that it seemed easier for girls to find out, somehow less of a hang-up about homosexuality, at least for the ones I knew. From the way they had told me, they just did it - let it happen - when the situation arose. For myself, I knew I would like to do it - like the girls - enjoy doing it with my mouth, per se, but I had a big hang-up about the homosexuality, a much bigger one, apparently, than about breaking the taboo of doing it with my sister.

"Would you do it?" Martha asked. 

"A real big hang-up. I don't think so, despite admitting that I'm curious from hearing you and her say how much you like to.

"Um-hmm," Martha murmured understandingly and agreed: 

"Yes, I guess maybe it could be easier with girls; we are ..., can touch each other, embrace, without anyone thinking anything about it, so ..., yes, I guess ... it could be easier for the situation to arise." 

"Um-hmm," I agreed: "... and girls can be more direct - tactfully, subtly, empathetically - about suggesting what they want, like your 'I'll be in my room' Sunday night." 

Martha snorted and massaged my balls and then replied: 

"Maybe. I'm still a little surprised at myself, ... that I just said it, like that, without really thinking about what I was saying." 

"It was just right," I answered and started to move so that I could lie on my back, and then put my arm under her head as I continued: 

"It settled everything, without saying anything but the obvious: that you would be there, and wanted me to know. Of course, I was wondering, but I didn't know what to say."

She squeezed me gently as she looked up at me and nodded with a smile and agreed: 

"Yes, I guess so. Oh, I wanted to, all right, at least, continue kissing, and was worried that maybe we wouldn't after I went to the bathroom, not seeing us just go back in the living room again. It just came out, before I realized what I was suggesting." 

She smiled again as I nodded and repeated: 

"And it was just right." 

"And I've got to go again," she remarked and let go of me and pulled herself half up on top of me, and then up a little higher on me and gave me a kiss, and then asked with a smirk: 

"Want me to say it again?" 

"If you want to," I replied as she rubbed my cheek, making me think that she could be suggesting that I shave first. As she started to get up, climbing over me, she said: 

"Let's go first, ... and shower. You have to anyway, and then we'll see what happens." 

I nodded and got up and followed her back to her bathroom, wondering a little: her reply hadn't sounded as though she wanted to say it again, but it still had been a question. But that was all right; we had all day, and besides - as she had said before - it was nice that we didn't just have to.

Then we were in the bathtub, "going," just chuckling as we wet each other's legs, neither having suggested we do more, and then we showered - washing each other thoroughly but not arousingly. Martha stayed in the tub, watching me shave. 

"You're sweet," she said with a smile and then added: 

"... I would have said it if you had asked, but I like better that you didn't. It's nice to feel that we don't ..., to feel that neither of us wants to insist that we do." 

I nodded as I started to shave my other cheek, agreeing with an "um-hmm" and smile.

She smiled back and then went on: 

"Oh, I wanted to, every time ... and want to again, but it's special, knowing we can, but don't have to. ... Hmm! At home, we always wanted to, had to, when we had the chance, felt like we had to when we could." 

I chuckled and nodded with a smile and agreed: 

"Like me, last winter." 

Martha nodded and chuckled, too, and agreed: 

"Yes, I guess. It was never like this, with all the time in the world, ... real good. Hm-hmm! And better and more than I knew. God, I'm glad I came to New York. I could have gone to a family with small children in Connecticut, and people warned me about the 'Big City' ..." "A nice young father...," I interjected. 

Martha grinned as she shook her head and replied: 

"I doubt it, and ... and even if he had been, it wouldn't have been good ..., and certainly not as good as Mother's 'young gentleman'," and she grinned again. 

"Thanks," I replied with a snort and smiled at her.

Then I was finished shaving, rinsing my face under the shower, and we started to dry ourselves. Martha snickered and remarked: 

"I never thought it would be like this, not doing it when I had the chance and was with someone I liked and had done it with," and she snorted and added: 

"Well, after getting married, probably. I don't guess married couples do it every night and morning." 

I chuckled and nodded and agreed: 

"Me neither, and I won't ask my older sister." 

I suddenly remembering that she and her husband were also staying on Fire Island for the week, that she was pregnant, and wondered if she had asked my younger sister anything about our week together, then thinking that it was good that she hadn't been just alone with our parents. Martha had chuckled at my remark and nodded again with a smile and was already speaking: 

" That's what is so good here, ... with us, talking like this, just talking. At home, we always did, if it happened, but then, even though no one asked at home, it was always still a little embarrassing, thinking that they might be wondering and have their own thoughts about it." 

I nodded, wondering what my parents' thoughts were; they had certainly had some late misgivings about leaving us alone together - justifiably so. 

Martha continued: 

"Oh, I guess it will be like that tomorrow," and she smiled: 

"... but just once for a whole week ..." 

I nodded again with a wry smile as I hung up my towel and agreed: 

"For me, for sure. I was just wondering what they are thinking, ... like you said." 

She nodded with an "um-hmm" as she hung up her towel and replied: 

"Maybe something about liberal Scandinavian girls." 

"Maybe," I agreed as we left the bathroom: 

"... good thing you didn't give them any reason to think about that all winter." 

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a smile and glance at me, and then it seemed that we were going to the kitchen.

We made and ate breakfast, and I was continually wondering if we were going to make love again before we went out, but we were just discussing what we wanted to do - "Something to write home about" - museums, Staten Island, ...? Then I remembered the Circle Line boat tour around Manhattan for tourists, and we agreed that that was a fine idea: easy, informative for her and maybe for me. And I thought that it was good because it allowed us to be together without fear that I could meet someone who knew me.

I called and found out where to board the boat and that one left on the hour, and then we cleaned up the kitchen and got dressed, each in our own room, both smiling a little sheepishly when we met again.

She was wearing a skirt and blouse and had put on lipstick, which looked a little strange, not just because I was accustomed to seeing her without, naked, so to speak, it occurred to me, making me suddenly wonder if we had spent more time together naked than with clothes on - definitely, six nights, not even counting the time sleeping! But I recognized that all the girls in New York used make-up, eye-shadow, whatever, and Martha only had lipstick.

She snorted softly and smiled again and asked: 

"Why didn't we ... this morning?" 

"I don't know. I was wondering, myself. No one suggested it. ... Maybe we wanted to prove that ... we're not just bunnies." 

Martha laughed and said: 

"I don't think so. At least, I hadn't thought of that, but that's a nice answer." 

She lowered her voice - she had a nice warm alto voice - and added: 

"and I think so, too, that we're not just bunnies." 

I nodded in agreement, appreciating that we both felt the same way, but then she surprised me with a grin and a brighter tone, saying: 

"But it sure is fun being one, ... the week before midsummer night." I laughed and agreed to that, too, and she laughed with me.

And then we were about to leave, but I suggested that I go ahead by myself and wait for her a few blocks down the avenue. She agreed, and I took the elevator down and headed down the avenue, wondering how long she would wait before following me. I walked purposefully for a couple of blocks and then slowed down, window-shopping to wait, crossing over and doing the same, always glancing back to see if she was in sight.

Finally I saw her, wondering that she had waited so long. She saw me and waved, and then I had the pleasure of watching her athletic walk, suddenly recognizing that it was similar to the way girl gymnasts strode on the mat before their run and flip, but they didn't have a dress on, but Martha's strong thighs moved visibly beneath hers, nicely, somehow a little sexy. Not just in my eyes, I thought, when I saw one and then another man notice her as she passed them.

She joined me, and we kissed as though we were starting an all-day date, instead have having spent the night in bed together.

"That was nice," she whispered as we strode off: "We haven't kissed today."

"Real nice, especially nice after watching a couple of men noticing you, letting them see that you're mine."

Martha smiled at my compliment, but then asked: 

"Am I yours?"

"For another day. ... Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

She clutched my hand and replied softly: 

"But for a whole week."

"Um-hmm," I agreed with bitter-sweet feelings as I squeezed her hand. 

Then we walked on in silence.

We had a good time on the tour around Manhattan, being entertained by the guide's continuous description and sometimes witty comments. We held hands and just enjoyed being tourists, enjoyed being with each other, and - it seemed - enjoyed not having to say much. The most personal thing was when we skaaled each other, our glances more meaningful than most of the times in the apartment.

The tour ended in the early afternoon. Manhattan on a hot summer Saturday afternoon can be surprisingly quiet, and we didn't have much to say. I explained to Martha that the pier numbers were forty numbers higher than the nearest cross-town street, pier 83 for the Circle Line, 42nd Street. We ambled to Times Square. Martha had been there, but said she felt more comfortable this time in my company, and we snickered that we didn't need any of the attractions that it offered. In 44th Street, I showed her the Algonquin Hotel, since I knew she had read the "New Yorker" at home, and explained what little I knew about the connection between the hotel and the magazine. 

Then I pointed out the adjacent NY Yacht Club, then the holder of the America's Cup trophy, pleased that Martha knew about the famous race. Next door, at the NC City Harvard Club, having been there once by invitation, I boldly took her past the doorman and showed her the great hall. She was impressed, also by my chutzpah. We ambled on uptown, and stopped for a drink in the NY Athletic Club, where I was a member - trying not to think about the two weekends in bed that I had once spent there with a girl. I show Martha around a bit. 

Then we ambled through the park, without much to say. After we had looked at the bowling greens and wandered on in silence, Martha held my hand a little tighter and glanced over at me and asked: 

"Can I talk about us?"

She sounded so serious, I only nodded, looking in her eyes.

"We've talked about it, 'making love.' We've made so much, so good, ..."

She glanced at me again with a loving smile: 

"... we made so much, more than I can use up. Hmm! Martin Luther said something about twice a week being enough. Hm-hmm! Maybe he meant, at least twice a week. Doesn't matter, we've made so much. I've just got to say it, ... I feel like I have this big bundle of love that ... I can't take with me, have to leave behind."

She looked at me again, and I nodded, and she asked:

"Does that make sense?" blinking her eyes. 

"Maybe it's our bundle," I replied, adding: "It is," feeling a tear in my eye.

She gave me a sweet smile and seemed more relaxed, snorting softly before she said:

"It's more like a too full dish of soup; it's slopped over a few times."

I smiled at her simile - and at her - and she smiled back. I agreed:

"It has; we just couldn't hold it level, and sometimes it was so full it ran over, anyway."

"Um-hmm, like that, saying it."

"Um-hmm. Don't. It'll just make it run over again."

Martha drew my hand back around my waist and said:

"I was about to. You said that just in time," and blinked a couple of times more.

She smiled again, this time more relaxed, almost with humor.

I freed my hand and put my arm around her shoulders, and she hugged my waist to hers, and we ambled on, walking slower in our embrace.

She smiled at me again, and I said:

"I guess it wouldn't help if we both slurp at the edge of that soup plate."

"Hm-umm! ... Bad manners, ... and sounds too much like making more."

We both chuckled, holding each other a little closer for a moment, but able to enjoy our shared humor.

"And it's probably still too hot to slurp," I suggested.

"It is," Martha agreed with a nod.

"Maybe it isn't soup; you said it was a bundle."




Martha in America Ch. 08



"If I knew it were soup, I know I would just have to let it cool down and couldn't take it with me."

"And if it were a bundle?"

"It wouldn't fit in my suitcases."

"Nor anywhere I could hide it. It's ours."

Martha gave me another hug and an appreciative smile, and I hugged her, too.

"How big is it?" I asked.

She loosed herself and held her arms up, suggesting that she was holding a very large ball, as she grinned at me.

"That big? I thought so, about my feeling for its size."

We grinned at each other, and she still carried her imaginary bundle of love. 

"It can't be too heavy, if it was just a soup plate full before."

"It is."

"Let me carry it then."

I raised my arms and took Martha's big bundle of love from her. She lowered her arms, and almost smirked as she asked: 

"Heavy, isn't it?" I nodded.

"Don't drop it."

"I'd rather hold you."

"If you set it down - very gently - maybe we can roll it in front of us."

I set it down very gently, and we put our arms around each other with smiles and pretended that we were gently kicking it before us, earning a few bemused smiles from other people.

"Is it well wrapped, or will it wear down?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. I think a bundle of love is probably only wrapped in tissue paper."

"Logical, but not very good for the way we're treating it."

"Hm-umm. Be gentle, don't make it bounce."

Maybe it was the word "gentle," for whatever reason, I slid my hand down from Martha's shoulder and tickled her under her ribs. With a loud giggle, she squirmed out of my grasp, turning away from me as she laughed. She returned under my arm and put hers around my waist again. I grasped her hand before she could tickle me, her chuckle suggesting that she had been intending to. Then she looked more serious and asked:

"Where did it go?"

I glanced around and replied: 

"It's over there, rolled off to the side of the walk."

"Oh, yes. It looks like kicking isn't good for it, nor tickling."

We pretended to push it back on the walk and continued to roll it before us, earning more bemused smiles from other people. Then a nice looking old lady asked us what we were doing, if we were playing soccer. Martha glanced at me, suggesting I reply.

"No, we have a big bundle of love, too heavy to carry, so we're rolling it home."

Martha nodded, and the lady smiled understandingly, glancing at each of us and said: 

"That's nice. Be careful with it."

She smiled again, and Martha replied: 

"We're trying to be."

She smiled again with a nod, and Martha very gently gave it a shove with her instep, and we moved on. We held each other closer, and Martha whispered: 

"That was nice, that you told her."

"Um-hmm. We wanted someone to know."

"Very much. I'm afraid that replaces some that was lost when you tickled me."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good, just doesn't help our ..., help reduce our bundle."

"We're going to have to carry it across the avenue. Maybe we can pick it up and carry it now, before we have to tell more people about it."

"If you want to. Maybe it will shrink enough to put in your pocket until we get home."

I pretended to pick it up, holding it as though it were a heavy medicine ball. Martha chuckled at my miming, and again when I whispered: 

"El Oh Vee Eee, please contract until we get home."

I moved my hands as though it were, finally holding just a golf ball between my fingers. Martha watched my hands and smiled and murmured: 

"Thank you, El Oh Vee Eee."

Then she looked at me and held out her hand and said: 

"I can carry it, keep it warm in my hand, better than your pocket."

"It's still heavy," I remarked as I pretended to hand it to her."

"Oooh, yes," she agreed, letting her hand sink under its weight.

We smiled and walked on, again with our arms around each other. Before it occurred to me, Martha murmured: 

"I guess we shouldn't walk like this, chance being seen like this."

I nodded, and we released each other and walked on towards the museum in silence for a while. Then Martha chuckled and held up her cupped hand, cupped larger than to hold just a golf ball, and said: 

"It's been squirming and getting bigger again."

"Mmmm! Maybe we should hurry, before it gets too big."

"Hm-hmm! Um-hmm." 

We did, and I suggested that maybe I should hold it. Martha gave it to me. I snickered and whispered: 

"About the size of your breast, ... nice - and warm and firm."

"Hmmm! Which?"

"Both."

"Both? Left and right?"

"Both our bundle and one of them."

We snickered with grins as we hurried on. Then Martha chuckled and remarked: 

"If it keeps growing, it'll be as big as your sister's before we get home."

"Maybe as big as both of them together."

We chuckled again, and I opened my hand a little, and murmured: 

"Almost, already," and moved my fingers as though I were holding a breast the size of my sister's.

"Hm-hmm! I don't know if that's good, having our bundle of love remind you of your sister's breast."

"It was your idea. ... Oh, we still don't know what to do with it."

"Um-hmm, ... unfortunately."

"Can you give any of it away?"

"If only, ... but it's also yours. Have to both give it away, ... and I'm not sure I can, ... not sure that would work."

"Maybe not, ... sort of like exchanging ideas, and then both persons have two instead of just one."

"Hmm? Something like that. ... And whom would we give it to? ... Hm-hmm! You give yours to someone, and I give mine to someone else; and then they have to find each other to share it?"

"Hm-hm-hmm! Sounds like a job for Cupid."

Martha laughed heartly in her nice warm tone and replied: 

"Maybe we should just give it all back to him; I think he's to blame."

"Hmm! Very much so, sneaking around with his little arrows. You let him into the house sometime last week, and then he was just hiding, waiting for me."

"Probably. If he's still there, let's remember to thank him."

We smiled fondly at each other. By now, we had crossed the avenue and were closer to home. I remembered my growing bundle of love and held my hand up with my fingers widely spread. Martha smiled with a nod, and remarked: 

"You may be right, as big as both of hers together," and chuckled.

I held up my other hand, moving them both as though splitting the bundle between them, then holding them as though there could be two breasts resting in them. Martha snickered again with a nod, and then looked more serious as she chuckled softly and said: 

"Maybe we could give it to her. I guess she doesn't need your share; you both don't need any more, but you would know what to do with it."

"Nice thought, ... if you want to give your share away?"

"I have to." 

Martha looked very serious for a few moments, and I did too, as we looked in each other's eyes. Then she tried to look more cheerful as she remarked: 

"It will probably be a gift with strings attached, ... if you both don't mind."

"I'm sure we won't, especially if you tell her about it. It will be nice sharing it, knowing you can feel the strings twitch."

"Hmm, that's nice. I will - tell her and feel them."

We almost embraced on the street outside our building.

We almost did again in the elevator, after I gestured that our bundle had returned to its original size and gently set it down. We rolled it out of the elevator and to the door of our apartment. When I had unlocked the door, Martha rolled it in with more generous gesture. I don't know where it stopped; we were in each other's arms as soon as I had closed the door. 

We just embraced, very tightly. Martha murmured: 

"I don't know if that's going to help, but it was just wonderful, delightful, being able to share my bundle with you - our bundle - and talk about it. That's going to help a little."

"Help me, too. Guys aren't so good at talking about it."

"You were - just saying 'its our bundle'."

"Nice big bundle of El Oh Vee Eee wrapped in torn tissue."

"Um-hmm! But it didn't fall apart; we got it home."

"To give to my sister."

"Um-hmm. ... She'll like it."

"Um-hmm. ... Will she mind if it's even a little bigger?"

"Not if I can let it slop over a little."

"Hmm! If it wants to become a plate full of soup again?"

"It does. It doesn't like being a dry bundle; it really is a hot plate of soup, hot and wet."

"Hmm, then it can slop over, ... and tastes good."

"Very! Hot and wet and tastes good."

We kissed - hot and wet and tasting good - but not the taste we wanted.

It was too good to tell, and the soup slopped over generously - in all the similes each of us had, also in words, not just the last ones when we were lying in each other's arms: 

"I just love you," Martha whispered, and I saw a tear in her eye as she added: 

"You don't have to say it again, ... save it for your sister."

"Um-hmm, if you don't want me to." 

I had tears in mine as I hugged her. She hugged me in return with a nod and then snorted softly and whispered:

"If you do, we won't be able to get our bundle out the door."

"We could leave it here and roll it in her room."

"Same problem, and we can't leave it in the living room."

We both tried to chuckle at our attempt to avoid letting the dish slop over even more.

"Let's take a nap," Martha suggested and rolled over. I curled up behind her and found her breast, and we dozed off.

I was awakened by Martha's holding my hand, that was still loosely cupped around her breast, and her murmuring:

"Hi. ... Maybe we shouldn't have done that again."

"Maybe not; sure didn't do anything to reduce the size of our bundle."

"Hm-umm. ... Mmmm, ... uh, ... would you be upset if I suggested that we shouldn't sleep together tonight?"

"Maybe a good idea. If you want to - don't want to."

"I do, probably even more this evening, but ..., you understand?"

"Um-hmm. Okay. Should make it easier to meet my parents, ... I hope."

"I hope so, too, but not only for that."

"I know."

Martha nodded with soft "thanks," and we got up and went to the bathroom. She used the toilet, while I waited, looking at each other with only an exchange of mild smiles. Then she started a shower by herself, while I used the toilet and then waited for her to finish her shower. I handed her her towel and waited for her to step out of the tub before I step into and closed the shower curtain again. She had left the bathroom when I was finished I collected my shaving gear and returned to my room and got dressed in fresh clothes, since my other ones were in her room. As I was putting on my shoes, Martha, also wearing fresh clothes, came in with mine - with my trousers and shoes - saying that she had put the others in the laundry. 

We did risk having a beer together, but rather formally in glasses. Our "skaals" and glances at each other after we had drunk were reserved. Martha murmured: 

"This is how it started." Only after I nodded, did she smile slightly.

Without discussing why, we agreed to go out for dinner, agreeing on a late dinner, late enough that we could just go to bed afterwards. I asked if she wanted to go back to the little Norwegian restaurant, but Martha preferred not to, which I could understand, also not wanting to be reminded of any situations from our week together. I said that I knew there were some other small European restaurants near 86th Street, and she said she thought that would be nice.

Since we still had a couple of hours till dinner, we lost ourselves in the newspaper, more accurately, at least for me, lost ourselves in our thoughts while attempting to read the paper. 

Once, Martha asked if there was any news about Norway, and I found the section with international news for her. Later she asked about international weather reports, and I gave her the section with that. I tried to distract myself with the sports section, but mostly I was thinking about Martha, and also worrying about meeting my parents and driving home with them, anticipating be quizzed or lectured. 

Once when my thoughts turned to Martha and me, I snorted when I wondered where our bundle of El Oh Vee Eee could be lying in the room. When Martha looked up questioningly, I said I had snorted about something in the paper. She didn't ask about what, luckily.

We decided to watch the evening news, again tacitly agreeing to stall for time. When Walter Cronkite had signed off with his "And that's the way it is," we set off. As we passed the doorman, I again worried about meeting my parents. On the street, we avoided holding hands. I still didn't have a specific restaurant in mind, and then thought of the German "Heidelberg," with its beer hall atmosphere, but then remembered that Norwegians could have a problem with something German. But when I suggested it, describing it and that it could be loud, Martha said that that might be good with a nod and smile, letting me think that she also felt distraction from having to make conversation in a quiet restaurant was a good idea.

It was. "Very German," she remarked, but the music and resulting loud talk limited our conversation. When she saw the menu and the portions, she grinned and said that if she ate all that, she would surely sleep well, but that was the only reference to the rest of the evening or to the preceding days and nights. Despite her comment - or because of it - and since we hadn't had lunch, we did have a generous meal and a large stein of beer, smiling at each other when I offer "Prost" instead of "Skaal." The waiters in lederhosen and waitresses in dirndls and the mixed crowd of local and visiting Germans and other guests, some obviously tourists to the city, gave us enough to chat about - if one can "chat" full volume. The desserts look enormous after our meal, so we had another stein of beer, prosting again, and snorting when we agreed: "to sleep on." 

I told her that Yorktown had been a center of German settlement in New York. Martha already knew that, but she appreciated my keeping the conversation going. Finally, there was just a last swallow in our steins. As we raised them, Martha automatically said "skaal," and I responded, and we drank, looking at each other again.

"I guess I shouldn't have said that," she remarked, smiling apologetically as she set down her empty stein.

I nodded, also with a slight smile, and then paid. On the way back to our apartment, we managed not to hold hands, although we were feeling more comfortable than at the start of the evening. As we said goodnight to each other in the apartment, there was an uncomfortable moment, both of us apparently wondering if we would kiss, but we didn't and turned and went to our rooms. 

It was strange to be lying in bed alone - for the first time in almost two weeks. I consoled myself with the thought that Martha was right that we shouldn't spend the night together, appreciating her strength of character to have suggested it. Then I was hoping that she was also right that our large dinner and two large beers would let us both sleep.

"Can I change my mind?" I heard her say softly, so softly that if I had been asleep I might not have heard her.

"Hmmm?"

"I can't sleep ... alone. ... I don't want to. ... Can I change my mind?"

I could just see her from the light through the window, standing at the door, and see that she had a nightgown on. I had gone to bed naked as usual, not just since sleeping with her and my sister.

"I couldn't either. If you want to."

"Thank you," she murmured and approached my bed, starting to gather up her nightgown. 

"You can leave it on, if you want."

"Hm-umm," she responded softly and continued to gather it up, pulling it up over her head and dropping it as I held up the covers.

She crept in beside me, and I lowered the covers with my arm around her, feeling the warmth from her body before she moved closer to me and slid her arm over me.

"Mmmm," she sighed as we held each other closer.

"Um-hmmm," I sighed in agreement.

"You can tell them it was my fault. ... It was. ... That you didn't want to ..."

"But I did." 

Martha rubbed my back affectionately, and then said: 

"Maybe just to be a gentleman, ... not to refuse."

"Hmm! ... Hm-hmm! You can tell your mother that, ... not my parents."

"Tell my mother ... Hm-hmm! Pity."

"Um-hmm."

"Um-hmm. ..."

There was a longer pause as we just held each other. Then Martha murmured:

"I want to have you, ... just to feel you, ... to know you're in me."

"Hmmm? ... But not to make any more love?"

"Sounds funny - um-hmm - but something like that. ... Just to be as close as possible."

"Um-hmm. ... Like with the meatloaf?"

"Um-hmm. ..."

Martha slid her hand down my back and over my hip and then down between us and found my balls in my soft sack. She nodded as she fondled them and remarked softly:

"Nice, to feel you this way. ... Yes, like that."

She found my soft cock and murmured:

"I know, he can't stay like this, ... and maybe we can't - but ... And we think that is even more loving, ... but I want it, ... want to feel it again."

Her fingers were arousing him.

"Um-hmm," I agreed: "I want to, too. ... Maybe then we can fall asleep."

"That would be nice, very nice, like that."

"Um-hmm," I agreed with a nod.

As Martha aroused him, I found a rubber under my pillow. She murmured with a soft snort that we shouldn't need one if we wanted it to be like that, but when I slipped it into her hand, she put it on him. She let me urge her to lie on her back and to raise her thigh and then helped him find his way into her under her thigh. We both sighed with moans as he did, and again, as I moved to push him deeper into her pussy, getting my thigh over her far one, and then both of us drawing our thighs up to let him goes as deeply as possible.

"Ummm-hmmmm!" Martha moaned: "... like that," and her pussy squeezed him, and he surged in the clasp of her pussy.

We held still with nods, feeling pussy and cock respond to each other, and exchanged soft moans of acknowledgement.

"Just like that, ... don't move," Martha whispered, holding her thigh up to keep mine in place, and then holding mine down on her hip with her hand.

"Um-hmm. ... Uhmmm!" I agreed to her request and then to her pussy's squeezing him again."

"Uhmmmm," she responded to his surge, and again as her pussy held him:

"Uhmmm, yes, like that," Martha murmured, and I nodded with slight moan.

I pulled the covers up to our chins, and we exchanged moaning sighs in response to what was happening in her:

"Uhmm!" 

"Uhm-hmm!" 

"Uhm-mmmm!"

"Uhmm! Yes!"

Martha clutched my thigh and held it fast when it twitched, but her pussy clutched my cock, and it twitched again as I gasped slightly, and my cock surged in her, and she responded with an aroused "Uhnn!" After that happened a couple of more times, I murmured:

"If you don't stop, I'm going to have to come."

"I can't," and her pussy confirmed that, and when my cock surged again, she murmured: 

"I want you to."

"And you, too."

"Uhnn! ... Yes!"

My hand slid down over her hair and found her clitoris, and she nodded with sigh and tighter hold on my thigh. 

"Oooh! Oh!" she murmured as I began to arouse her more, and then her hips twitched as she clutched me again ... and again and again as I surged in her, trying to hold back my orgasm, but couldn't for long the way her pussy was responding, and she was gasping and moaning with increasingly aroused "Oh! Oh! ... Oooh! ... Oh! Oh! ... Oh! ..."

Then my hips twitched, despite her hold, and I started to come, and she let me move in her, her hand urging my thigh to move as I felt her pussy flood my balls, and she came, rocking her hips to meet my thrusts. With a final combined moan, we stilled, just gasping and sharing a few more moans. Martha's hand found mine and drew it up to her breast, and we just lay there.




Martha in America Ch. 08



"We just had to," she murmured after we had recovered.

"Um-hmm," I agreed.

Without moving, with him still in her, we fell asleep. Eventually, she rolled away from me, and he slipped out. I moved closer behind her, and we were asleep again. When I rolled over in the night, I moved my balls and found the rubber, waking out of my half-sleep, and slipped it off and placed it up on the corner of my bed. Martha followed me, putting her arm around my chest, and we drifted off to sleep again.

In the early morning, she rubbed my chest and awakened me, murmured:

"Good morning. I've got to go."

"Good morning. Me too," I responded, recalling all the beer we had drunk.

She got up as I found the rubber and wrappings, and then I followed her. When I joined her, she smiled up at me a little wryly when she saw the rubber. When she had finished, she waited for me to use the toilet and dispose of the rubber and wrappings, remarking softly: 

"Since we couldn't keep from sleeping together, we may as well shower together for the last time, too."

In silence, we washed each other again, but very much with the feeling that it was the last time, intimate but unaroused. As I started to shave, Martha said that she would go and get dressed. 

I joined her, and we had a good breakfast, but the conversation was subdued. We cleaned up the kitchen and house, and she packed for her week on the island. I gave her the six pack and two cans of beer left over from what we had bought. 

Then we were off. Martha said again how nice it was that she could spend a week on Fire Island: "something to tell about at home." 

It was too obviously an oblique reference to our week together, which she couldn't tell about. We were silent until we passed Flushing Meadows on the Long Island Parkway, when Martha asked:

"Did you pack our bundle?"

"Um-hmm, asked it to shrink again, enough to sneak it in your bag with the beer."

"Hm-hmm, thanks."

"I wrapped it with red, white and blue ribbon, ... for the Norwegian and US flags."

"That was a nice idea. ... Oh, ... what is your sister going to think? ... I mean, ... will she assume we've been sleeping together?"

"Hmm? Probably. ... At least, she won't mind."

"Hmm?"

"I think she will, ... and like that we have, ... for both of us."

"Funny, ... well, ... a little strange, the thought of telling her ... Oh! ... And why we want to give it to her, ... that I know about you two."

"Hadn't thought of that. ... I don't think she will mind that either, ... like I didn't. ... If you talk about us, she'll probably think that we mentioned her."

"Your dream?"

"Um-hmm, ... and yours."

"Hmm? ... Um-hmm, ..."

"Oh, ... if you don't tell her - if she doesn't ask - you can give the bundle back to me, and I'll give it to her. She won't mind my telling her that you know about us."

"Hmm? I hope not. ... Might find it strange that we spent a week together and never talked about it."

"Um-hmm, ... so you probably will."

"Hmm! Um-hmm."

Then we were silent for a while until I said: 

"More of a problem is what my parents might assume."

"What they're going to say to you?"

"Um-hmm. I'm not looking forward to the drive home with them."

"It was their idea to let us spend the week together."

"With subsequent misgivings, ... duly justified."

"I'm glad."

"Me too, ... just apprehensive of the consequences."

"What's worse, letting them think we did, or trying to lie about why we didn't?"

"Hmm! ... Have to wait and see what they say, ... how much they assume."

"Um-hmm, be kind of difficult for both of us if they assume we did."

"Very, especially for you for the last few days."

"Um-hmm, thanks for thinking of me."

"Yeah, ... the natural tendency to blame the person one is less close to. I guess I'd better try to convince them that we didn't."

"Thanks. ... Tell them I didn't let you."

"Hmm! If worse comes to worse, let them think I would have."

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

"Thanks, but it might - no, would - be better than admitting we did. ... Save your reputation, tell them your mother said you shouldn't."

"Hmm! But I don't like their thinking you would have."

"Me neither, but I did."

"We did."

"Too good, too much, our bundle."

"Um-hmm, don't remind me."

Martha smiled with a frown, and I drove on in silence for a minute or two, before replying: 

"If they assume too much, I'll boldly accuse them of assuming it was just like it actually was, that they could think that you just came home, and we had a beer and jumped into bed."

"Hmm! If you can?"

"Yeah, they won't like that, having their misgivings expressed in such bold terms. ... Oh, I'll tell them that we had a good time and enjoyed each other's company - they know that I took you to the oyster bar ..."

"Hope they don't think about oysters like you told me."

"Me too! Won't mention that. ... Oh, if they still don't believe me, I'll tell them that we were surprised that they trusted us, even joked about how your mother and my parents were all worried that we could have."

"Can you get away with that?"

"I hope so."

"Me too."

We exchanged wry smiles and drove on in silence, occasionally exchanging smiles. On the causeway to Fire Island, Martha took more interest in the scenery, again saying how much she was looking forward to the week on the beach. As we pulled up at our house, she said that she would carry her bag, snickering as she added: "not to make it look like we're a couple." I appreciated her forethought, especially when the whole family came out to greet us.

My mother and older sister had prepared a more festive dinner for the family's last meal of the vacation. I joshed my older sister that she looked even more pregnant after a just week, which could hardly have been true, since there wasn't much to see yet, but she took it as a compliment, and her husband looked proud. During the meal, of course, I was asked about my work and then Martha, about what she had done. She managed to satisfy my parents' interest, although my sister gave me a glance when Martha told that she had gone to the Metropolitan Museum for a last look at all the famous paintings.

Then my mother asked me rather pointedly how we had gotten on together. I avoided looking at Martha and my younger sister and replied: 

"Just fine, as I think we told you on the phone. Martha surprised me with her cooking, the meatloaf and then Norwegian fishballs, no, first the fishballs, apparently a Norwegian favorite."

Martha chuckled as my sister asked: 

"Fishballs?"

"Kind of bland, like dumplings, but apparently with fish, and with a white sauce," I explained.

"You made them?" my mother asked.

Martha explained with another chuckle that the fishballs came canned, that she had found them in a store that catered to Scandinavians, admitting that they really didn't taste like much but had been something she had missed. Everyone smiled understandingly. Then I boldly said that her salmon stew had been much better. Martha grinned, and my mother asked: 

"Salmon stew?"

"He's joking; I can't make that. I insisted on taking him to a little Norwegian restaurant after he taken me to the oyster bar. In Europe it isn't nice for a girl to let herself be taken out without reciprocating - different from here, where the man always pays."

My parents seemed to have mixed feelings about that; maybe liking that Martha hadn't wanted to let me pay, but not liking that we had gone out together. My mother managed to say that that was a nice custom. I tried to distract them by telling how an older man had talked to us and venturing to add that we didn't want to sit around at home all evening. 

My brother seemed to understand my implication and supported me by saying: 

"Sounds like a good idea, exchanging a bit of New York and Norwegian culture."

My parents still looked a little sceptical, but Martha picked up the ball and said: 

"We went to that German restaurant, Heidelberg, last night, 'Dutch treat.' Isn't that the expression?"

"And ate too much," I rejoined, adding: 

"But also part of New York's culture - not eating too much, the Germans in Yorktown."

There were chuckles, and my mother glanced at my father's substantial figure and remarked: "Maybe eating too much, too."

"All part of the job, entertaining customers," he replied with an apologetic smile.

We all chuckled again, and the conversation turned to other topics.

After dinner, while the cars were being loaded for my parents and sister and brother to return home, my father asked him to accompany Martha for a practice drive. When they returned, we all said goodbye to Martha and my sister, and with apprehension I joined my parents for the drive back to the city.

After we had been on the road for a minute or two, Mother said: 

"It sounded like you and Martha got on well."

"Not too well, I hope," Dad interjected before I could answer.

Mother's glance at him suggested that his remark wasn't appreciated at that moment, but it did make clear what they were thinking about, and did suggest an appropriate reply: 

"No, just very well. I had hardly talked to her before."

"It sounded like you spent a good deal of time together," Dad commented.

"Of course. What else were we to do? She was nice company; it would have been rude to avoid her."

"We didn't think you needed to invite her out," Mother remarked.

"It just seemed a nice way to reciprocate for her cooking, ... and better than just sitting around, maybe watching something on TV, ... and she thought so too, apparently, both ways, inviting me out."

There was a pause in the conversation, and then Dad said: 

"You did remember what I said on the phone?"

"Of course. We joked about that. Her mother had warned her before she left 'not to sleep with the young gentleman'."

"You told her?! And she that, and joked about it?!"

"Why not? Thought it kind of funny that our parents seemed to assume that if two young people were together, what you're worried about was inevitable."

I liked the way I had expressed that, less blunt than what Martha and I had discussed on the way out, and the few moments of silence seemed to indicate that it had been effective.

"Her mother said that?" mine then asked.

"She said so. I guess in Norway parents are more direct."

I was about to say more, but realized that anything I said would suggest that we had talked more about what her mother knew about her sex life. Luckily, Dad interjected: 

"It sure sounds like it."

"What did she tell you about her family," Mother asked.

"Probably what you already know: that her mother is a dental assistant and daughter of a Lutheran minister; father works for an insurance company; two older brothers."

"I didn't know her grandfather was a Lutheran minister," Mother replied.

That was the end of the conversation, but I wasn't sure, until Mother started talking about something else - to my great relief, having escaped without a blatant lie. Then she got on her new favorite topic, the future grandchild. Dad seemed to have heard it all already, but was nonetheless pleased with the idea of becoming a grandfather. 

My thoughts could then return to Martha and my sister. In the presence of my parents, I couldn't even think about what I had done with them - what they each had done with me. I was wondering if they would do anything together. No, I was really hoping they would.



Martha in America Ch. 09



I hope readers love Martha and my sister as much as I did, also as individuals, and can enjoy that they discover that two girls can also enjoy each other. At the end of the week, I join them, but it will be a few chapters later. 




After his parents left, Martha took her bag into his older sister's room. His sister had already said that she was going out to sunbathe, so she got out her bikini and put it on. Then she put the six-pack and two cans of beer in the refrigerator and found a towel and went out on the deck to join her. She was lying on her stomach with her bikini top unhooked, and the straps under her arms.

Martha lay down and reached back and untied her top, and then after a moment, undid the bow behind her neck. His sister turned her head and smiled and then said: 

"Hi. This is just great, that you can come out here too. For me too, I'm going to have the best tan I ever had."

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed, smiling back: "... for me too. Nice that your parents suggested that I could."

"It was my idea, but it was great that they agreed. ... Oh, you should have some suntan lotion, at least to start. I'll get it."

She held her top and got up and slipped her arms through the straps, just adjusting it without fastening it. and went back in the house and returned, saying: "Here, I'll do it for you." "Thanks," Martha replied. 

His sister started to lean down, and then snorted when her top started to slip and fastened it before she rubbed the lotion on Martha's back and legs, and then lay back down again and slipped her arms out of the straps of her top as she smiled at her again.

"Thanks," Martha said again, smiling back.

"I didn't wear my bikini when my parents were here."

"Thoughtful of you. You did with your brother?"

"Of course, wouldn't you with yours?" 

"Of course, even with my parents, when I had one. I guess they're more liberal than yours."

"One like that? My parents certainly wouldn't have liked that. Bet your brothers did, though."

"I didn't ask them, but I guess I didn't mind their seeing me in it."

"Wanted them too?"

"Didn't really think about. Oh, I was pleased that I could wear it, you know, that there was something in it."

His sister chuckled with a nod. Then Martha did, remarking: 

"Oh I guess I did want them to see it - see me. Long before I had a bikini, when I got my first bra ... I guess all girls want to. I didn't think I really needed it, but Mother said I had to, ... when school started."

"What did you do? Show it to your brother? Which one?"

"How did you guess? The younger one, both older than me."

"Really!? Just like that? In just your panties and bra?"

"Um-hmm."

His sister sat up in her surprise, forgetting her top as she asked again: "Really? Oh!" and she blushed and picked up her top.

"That doesn't matter," Martha said, smiling at her, and rolled onto her side and raised herself up on her elbow, leaving her top behind. His sister looked less embarrassed and snorted with a grin and put her top back down as she looked at Martha's breasts and replied: 

"No one can see us." 

"Looks like the sun saw you a lot, however."

"Oooh! He didn't tell you, did he?"

"That you wanted to go topless in France."

"He did?!"

"Looks like you did here."

His sister blushed, nodding, replying: 

"He said he couldn't stop me."

"Hm-hmm! Could have been an interesting struggle."

"He didn't. You don't mind if we do?"

"No, sometimes we go topless in Norway."

"Oh, that's good, nice. Want some lotion on yours?"

She handed the lotion to Martha, who sat up and spread it on her breasts and elsewhere. His sister watched her with a smile and then looked more serious and asked: 

"If you talked about that, ... uh, ... well, ... I guess you got on well together."

"Um-hmm. Told me your parents were worried that we might get on too well."

Martha's nipples had popped out, but they both were looking past each other. Then his sister murmured: 

"I kind of got that impression too, from a few words I overheard." 

Her nipples had also popped out. They were silent for a few moments, their nipples relaxing. Then his sister's popped out again, and she blushed. Then Martha's tightened again. She rubbed her arm over them and then murmured: 

"They were right," still looking at the horizon.

It took a few moments before his sister found her tongue: 

"Oh? I hope they didn't find out!"

"I do too, he does too."

"Must have been tense driving home with them. ... You did?"

"Yes, we did ... sleep with each other."

"Sure hope they didn't find out."

"Me too. Surprised?"

"Hmm? Not really. Well, yes, but I could imagine that it could happen."

They looked at each with slight smiles. Martha said: 

"It did."

His sister nodded, but then looked a little uneasy and glanced away for a moment, but then looked back at Martha. She took a deep breath, and then let it go and took another one and asked: "And did you talk more about me? What did he tell, if you were, well, like that?"

Martha glance at her. His sister looked at her questioningly, still looking uncomfortable as Martha nodded and then replied:

"Um-hmm, we did. He told how you wanted to, and that you did. I might have wanted to, too, with my brother."

"He did?! You might have wanted to with your brother?!"

"He dreamt about you one night in my bed."

"And told you?!"

I think he had told me before, your brother. I guess it didn't really surprise me as much as it should have.

His sister smiled briefly, looking a little less uncomfortable for a moment, but then more so again and asked: "But I guess if you slept together, and he told you that, that wasn't all he told you," and looked at Martha questioningly. 

She shook her head, and then after a moment replied: "No, it but sounded all right, so natural, like it could have ... like I would have liked it to happen, if it had been me. ... Of course, I was surprised, but not much, ... after what he had told before. Of course, you both wanted to see each other, and then one thing led to another. But it just seemed so natural, ... a little funny, but delightful, the way he told it, and sounded like you both enjoyed it."

His sister looked relieved as she smiled and nodded and agreed: "Um-hmm, we sure did." She paused for another long moment, glancing away and then back at Martha, and then away again before she asked in a whisper: "He told you everything?" and looked at her questioningly again.

"Um-hmm, eventually. I finally asked him. It just seemed that you must have, that it had to happen. Why not, after ..., just natural, if you wanted to, and very difficulty not to, and difficult if you didn't then. ... I would have, ... well, ... that was what I was thinking: how, ... what I would have done ... if I had been you. Like I told him, he was the kind of brother a girl would want to do it with."

His sister smiled and nodded, still looking serious, but then after a moment nodded again and smiled more broadly and agreed:

"Yeah, it was like that, real good. And I guess I was the one that led him on, wanting to go topless and then asking if he had slept with girls. He sure didn't take advantage of me. I was wondering last week if he would tell. He always talked about 'gentlemen not telling,' but then did tell some. But if you slept together .... Oh, I like it, that we can talk about it. You just want to tell someone how good it was. ... You don't mind?"

Martha shook her head with a smile.

"Oh, and thanks for being so ... empathetic? Is that the word: understanding, feeling like I did?"

"I think so. I do. It just seemed so natural and inevitable, and that it was good, that you both apparently found it good."

"Oh, I sure did! It made me feel so good! I just felt wonderful afterwards."

Martha nodded again with a smile and agreed:

"That's the way I felt, too."

"Wasn't your first time so good? They say it usually isn't."

"Oh, it was good, but not that good. ... Oh, it was real good, no fear of getting caught or of not having enough time, just not as good as it was for you. But I'm glad it was, for you."

"Me too. How old were you?"

"Eighteen."

"Hmm? And now he has spoiled both of us."

Martha shrugged with little nod, but then said: 

"I told him that maybe I could tell them, show them how to make it better for girls."

"You did? Like doing that to us?"

"Um-hmm."

"Mmmm! That's good! Surprised me a little the first time."

"Me too, the first thing he did."

"Oooh! Nice. ... Uh? ... Maybe I shouldn't ask."

"If I did it to him?"

His sister nodded, murmuring: "I did." Martha nodded with a smile and replied: 

"I didn't know about it before, ... well that nice girls did it. But then I wanted to, at least to try it, and then I wanted to, wanted to be one of those who liked it ..."

"And you did?" his sister interrupted.

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed with a snort and smile. His sister grinned and said:

"Oh, that's good."

"Um-hmm, and like you said, funny, that I loved him for letting me do it, but I tried not to use that word to say so. But then we did, and agreed that making love just makes you love someone a little, that that is what the expression says."

"Um-hmm, maybe I shouldn't have said it so often, ... but it just came out. Oh, I'm glad you like it, too. ... Hmmm! I told him he would too."

"Me too, and he agreed that he probably would, except for ..., well, you know."

"Um-hmm. We got that far too. And he told me that I would like what he liked. I had to agree, knowing how good it is - for me. I guess we were pretty open about talking about everything. Yeah, we were. After that, of course, we didn't just go topless."

Martha chuckled and said: 

"Bottomless. Funny! I could have known that before he said anything, seen that he didn't have a tanline. That didn't even occur to me after I knew."

"That's good."

"Yes, better that he told me, than my wondering, making an assumption, before he did."

"Do people in Norway go nude?"

"Of course, some sunbathe naked, ... not my family, but I know some others who do, and, of course, couples alone, or with close friends. Yeah, probably a lot do when they're alone. That's easy in Norway, lots of space, cabins in the mountains. We love the sun for the few weeks of real summer."

Martha chuckled and added: 

"If you want to?"

"Just waiting for you to ask!"

They grinned and took off their bikini bottoms and faced the sun, dropping back on their elbows. His sister remarked: 

"I knew I would enjoy being out here with you, but didn't think it would be like this. Of course, after I started thinking that you were probably also sleeping with him, it occurred to me that, well, ..."

"We've clarified that."

"Um-hmm, thank you." His sister glanced over at Martha and saw her nod, but she didn't say anything, and she continued:

"A little funny last week: hiding that I didn't have tanline. Oh, I guess he told you that going topless was about my wanting to do it in France. I had asked my sister about that, so she knew that I had been thinking about it. Luckily, she didn't say anything."

"Tactful of her."

Um-hmm."

They looked at each other and smiled and then were silent for a while. Then Martha looked over at her again and snorted softly and said: "He was right: like half grapefruits, your breasts." His sister's nipples stood out as she looked down at them and snickered, replying:

"Did he tell you about that, too? Our trip to the museum?"

"Um-hmm. I went there last week, and he suggested I find the paintings you looked at. Boucher and Fragonard liked them like that, like yours, and I bet their customers did too. Maybe buxom young girls were more acceptable subjects then. They're lovely."

His sister snickered as her nipples stood out again, and she sat up and rubbed them as she looked over at Martha's and said:

"Yours are just as nice. A couple of years ago, I wished mine weren't already so big. Some girls still didn't have much, but they weren't happy with that either. But I like them now, and like the way they can feel. ... Do you think it feels that good when you're nursing a baby?"

"I should know? It must feel good, but probably different for a nursing mother, wanting to nurture - is that the word? - her baby. Seems funny that some women don't want to, lots in America, apparently."

"Um-hmm. I guess we'll find out. ... Oh, that was funny, once when he was doing it - just sucking my breast ... Oooh, did I say that?! Anyway, he was, and I was holding his head, and suddenly I felt sort of motherly, like when you're holding a little puppy or kitten, wanting to be gentle and protective. That was funny, ... well, ... I guess, ... motherly, but funny with my brother, and what we were doing, and going to do."

"I can imagine, ... what you mean, and that it was funny. That didn't happen with me, with him, or before ..."

"Is he ... I mean, you ..., you would know, ... is he a good lover?

Martha looked at her and then looked back towards the sun, and then looked at her again and smiled and then nodded and almost murmured:

"Um-hmm, real good. You're lucky, ... we're lucky. Maybe the next one won't be so good."

They were both silent for a moment, not looking at each other, and then his sister said:

"Oh, I'm going to make him be good. I'll tell him what I want, ... and show him what I want to do. He'll like it!"

Martha snorted and smiled at her and replied:

"It sounds like you will. And I guess you're right. We can help them, if they just let us. I told him that I was going to maybe surprise the next one at home."

They both snickered with a glance at each other and then looked towards the lowering sun. His sister drew her knees up, and then smiled briefly to herself when she saw Martha do so too, and then after a moment said:

"I bet you will. But they've got to like to do it too. He sure does, but maybe some don't, ... like the girls who don't ..."

"I hadn't thought of that. None did before, but they were too interested in doing it ... for themselves, and I didn't know to suggest anything else. But he likes to, and I learned that I did, so, ... why shouldn't they, and if they know we want to, ... want them to ..."

"Mine will, just maybe be surprised. Yeah, I guess I'll have more experience than he has. Maybe he won't like that."

"If it bothers him, then he's the wrong one. But then we're back to what I was saying, maybe the next one won't be as good, even with your help."

"Hmm? Yeah, maybe? I hope not. ... But anyway, I'm better off - lucky - knowing how good it can be. I'll find one who does."

Martha snorted and glanced at her and then agreed:

"Me too. ... This is a little funny, our talking like this, ... and being like this ... already. I knew that I would I like to sunbathe nude, but didn't know how I was going to suggest it. ... Oh, I guess - knowing about you two - I thought it wouldn't be a problem, just didn't know how I could suggest it."

"Oh, I would have taken care of that, just didn't know if you would too. I was thinking that maybe I would just do it, but this was better, is better."

"Um-hmm, and the talking, ... funny, but nice. Funny, real funny, talking so much about sex when we both slept with the same man. ... Oh! That sounds funny too, hearing myself say that. But I sure would not have talked about it with girlfriend at home, if I knew we both had. Funny, nice that we can share him. I guess because we know that neither of us can have him, aren't competing for him. ... But still a little funny. But I like it."

"Me too. Funny, my liking that you slept with him. Yeah, I guess it's like you said, nice that we could share him - a week for each of us. ... Oh? Or didn't you ... till ... later?

"Oh, we did, Sunday night. It just happened, ... well, I wanted it to, ... no, ... had considered the possibility, but, of course, didn't know if he did, but it worked out, drinking beer, and then ..., well it just happened, better than I could have hoped."

"I bet. You're lucky, ... or managed that well. Hmm! Like I did, but I didn't really know what I wanted. ... Well, maybe I just didn't recognize - dare to recognize - what I might be wanting, suggesting, ... I guess, ... and certainly didn't anticipate that he would, too. I guess he told you about that too - how one thing led to another."

"Um-hmm. I know how you felt. ... Well, ... I can imagine, like I said, that I could understand that it was good."

"You're just great! God, what if you had been a prude?! I didn't think you were, but if you hadn't slept with him, maybe not liked him, or been all up tight 'cause it didn't happen, and then didn't know about us. Oh, I don't want to think about it! This is just too good!"

Martha nodded and smiled and agreed: "I think so too. ... I want a beer. You too?"

"Did he tell you about that, too? You have some? Yes please. I'll get them. Where are they?"

"I put them in the fridge. It was his idea. Thanks."

"Oh, that's great! This is great!"

His sister grinned and glanced out at the shore, and then scrambled stooped to the door and went off. After a little, Martha heard the door to the refrigerator close, and then looked around and saw her at the door, looking off at the beach, and then she quickly strode to her and sat down again and handed her a can. They sat cross-legged and opened them, and his sister grinned and said: "Here's looking at you" as Martha said "Skaal" and they both drank, and then snickered slightly as they look at each other.

"That's how it started," Martha volunteered: "... with your brother. I told him that after saying 'skaal' he had to look me back in my eyes, so we did it again, and he did, and then, ... well, we kissed. He said later that I looked like I wanted to be kissed, and I guess I did."

"And he said: 'Here's looking at you,' once when we were both naked, had grown accustomed to being so, but then when he said it, I really felt naked, embarrassed for a moment. That was funny. ... How do you do it? 'Skaal'."

They both drank again and looked back up in each other's eyes, and then grinned, and then took each other in with their eyes, directly facing each other for the first time. After a brief glance down at Martha's sparse, reddish blond pubic hair, his sister took another sip and said:

"Seeing you, I wish I didn't have so much. It's sort of like an exclamation mark - when I look at myself in the mirror. 'Here it is." No wonder artists seldom show it. Yours is nicer, just tone in tone, not calling attention to it."

She took another sip of her beer, and Martha did too and then snorted softly and replied:

"Funny, he said something like that, too. I never thought about it before. But he liked it, telling me once that it looked like they were trying to say: 'Here it is, an adult, ripe ..., but we're not trying to hide it ...' Oh, he went on, but I won't repeat that."

"Hmm! That's sweet. I guess he is a good lover. He told me mine was real pretty. Oh?! ... Oh! I guess I shouldn't have said that. He wasn't talking about my hair."

"He is a good lover, and not just with words."

"You can say that again! God, he does it good, ... doesn't he?"

Martha snickered with a nod and drank from her beer. His sister took a sip, too, and then another one when Martha didn't reply.

"That must be good," his sister remarked: "... if he likes it so much. I know it must be good." 

Martha nodded slightly with a brief, sly smile, then looking past her for a moment, still not looking at her as she replied:

"We told him he would like it, ... what we like," and then looked at her and took a sip of her beer. 

His sister took a sip too, and then they were silent together for a long moment, and still silent as they took another sip of beer and both turned back towards the sun, extending their legs again. They finished their beers and leaned back on their hands again. When their toes inadvertently touched, neither reacted or moved her foot away, and then they were silent for a while longer, both of them just looking off into space.




Martha in America Ch. 09



"Um-hmm," his sister finally murmured, and then with a soft snort moved her toes on Martha's and then said: "I've got to go to the bathroom." Martha nodded as she started to get up and then agreed: "Me too," and followed her back to the door, both of them snickering at their awkward, stooped gait. She hurried ahead, using the toilet. When Martha stepped into the tub, she gasped softly with surprised "oh!". And then when Martha turned from her, she asked:

"Oh? Did you do that too? With him?"

Martha just nodded as she started to go, and his sister asked again: "You did?"

"Um-hmm, but I did it before, at home, when showering."

"Really? ... I do now too, nice."

"Just don't forget; it gets to be a habit, feeling like you have to go when you're under the shower."

His sister snickered and agreed: "Yeah, I know, already."

Martha finished and turned back to her, but without making a move to step out of the tub, and said: "I guess we may as well shower now."

She nodded as she stood up and flushed, and when Martha didn't make a move to close the curtain or turn on the water, she smile briefly and asked: 

"Want me to wash your back - the lotion ...?"

"If you want to. I'll do yours then," and then turned and stooped down to turn on the water, while she stepped in behind her and closed the curtain.

When the shower started, she got the soap, hesitating for a moment, but then began to wash Martha's back with her bare hands, just washing her back and then handing her the soap, stepping back a little as Martha began to wash herself.

"I guess you showered with him, too. 

Martha snorted, turning half towards her with a grin as she leaned against the wall and raised a leg to wash it. When she had washed her other leg, she offered:

"Want me to wash you now?"

"Um-hmm, yes, please."

Martha nodded with a snort and they smiled at each other as they exchanged places, and then Martha washed her back and handed her the soap, and she quickly washed herself while Martha watched in silence. As they were drying themselves, his sister remarked:

"We joked about saving water, but I don't think we did."

Martha chuckled and agreed: 

"I can imagine. We didn't save much either, but it was fun."

"Yeah, isn't it. ... Uh, ... did you do that too, ... go to the bathroom with him in the shower?"

"Did you?"

"Um-hmm. It was his idea, but I liked it. ... I guess that was about the only thing that he suggested that really surprised me, ... that I hadn't sort of already thought of and wanted to do it. But I liked it. By then, I was willing to do anything that had to do with it. Well, ... I guess we sort of had, already."

Martha snorted with a smile and agreed: "Yes, I guess so."

They hung up their towels and brushed their hair and went back to the living room, discussing what to do next, deciding to do a puzzle. Then while Martha started order the pieces, his sister snuck out and gathered up their bikinis and towels and the empty beer cans and brought them back, hanging up their towels and disposing of the beer cans. Then she returned with Martha's bikini and asked if she could try it on. She could, and giggled as she tried to put the top on, discovering that she had to tie the string around her neck first, with it just hanging down, and then tie the other one, having to adjust the first one again, and she giggled again as she adjusted her breasts in the almost formless cups. Then she put on the bottom, giggling a little again as she pulled it up over her hips, and then grinned at Martha, looking pleased with herself as she glanced down, and then she hurried to her room to look at herself in the mirror.

Martha smiled when she heard her give a wolf-whistle and waited for her to return.

"I was right not to dare to buy one like this. I think I would feel naked even with it on in public. I even thought I could see where my hair was," and she rubbed there: "... but that isn't a problem for you." 

"But it looks fine on you."

"Thanks, but it doesn't leave much to the imagination, especially the way I fill it out, swelling a little at the sides," and she looked down, and then tugged the cups to the sides: "... or then too much in the middle," and she glanced up at Martha with a grin, and Martha grinned back with a nod.

"And doesn't it bother you that your nipples show, even when ..., well, ... you know? 

"Yes, I guess so. It bothered me the first time I wore it, two summers ago, but then I got accustomed to it, and most of my friends had similar ones, and ... well, like I said, we were usually just with friends - not nude, or topless - but usually with someone, you know, a friend, and it was kind of nice if he wanted to look."

"Yeah, I guess, ... not like the beach here, where they're mostly strangers. Of course, I would with him, my brother, and like it if he noticed my nipples standing out. I'd like that, like I did when we didn't have anything on, and they did.

"Hmm! I can imagine. Me too."

Martha rubbed hers, that had tightened, and his sister smiled with a snort and then said: 

"But it would have been funny to see my father's reaction. I bet he would have liked it, nipples and all, but would have had to say it was too ... revealing. I wonder if he would have blushed."

Martha laughed, and his sister reached back and untied the string and took off the bikini top and then pushed the bottom over her ass and stepped out of it and hung the pieces on the back of her chair as she sat down at the table, where Martha had turned up most of the pieces.

Then they worked on the puzzle, finding edge pieces first, and then engrossed in finding pieces that fit together. His sister was so involved with the puzzle that she was surprised when Martha sat back from the table and suggested that they think about supper. They went to the kitchen and got out the leftovers from what her mother had cooked for dinner. Martha warmed them up while she set the table.

"Another beer?" Martha asked as she served the food.

"Oh, yes. Nice of him to suggest you bring them."

"Um-hmm. I guess he knew we would both enjoy having it. And it was the way we got closer, like I told you - skaaling - but also because he had already taken one of the cans that I had bought, before I came home that first evening. But I liked that."

"I'll get them. Glasses?"

"Yes, that would be nicer. Your mother would think so."

"My mother?! She wouldn't want me to drink it with or without a glass."

"She must assume that you will in Europe."

They both chuckled and she hurried to get the beer and glasses. When she returned, they sat down and opened the cans and poured them in their glasses, and then glanced at each other, and Martha and then she raised them and both said "skaal", looking at each other and drinking, and then looking back at each other and smiling.

"Oh, that's nice, a little formal, but nice, better than just drinking."

Martha snorted softly with a nod and smile, and then they started to eat, silent for a while, until she looked up and said:

"Oh, I wanted to ask you before, when we were talking about your bikini, and your friends ... Oh, I guess I can't ask that," and she looked back down at her plate and took another bite.

"What?"

"No, that would be tactless, ... it's none of my business. Sorry. I shouldn't have even thought about it."

Martha looked at her for a moment, and then took a bite, herself, and when she had swallowed looked at her again. She was still looking at her plate, looking a little embarrassed.

"You want to know how many boys I have slept with?" She looked up.

"How did you guess? But it is none of my business."

"From what you said. But that's all right. Seven, ... now."

"With my brother?"

Martha nodded with a slight snort and a brief smile and took a drink of her beer. She took a drink, too, and then smiled at Martha wryly as she put her glass back down and responded softly: "Oh," and just looked at Martha with widened eyes.

"Too many? ... Yes, I shouldn't have slept with a couple of them, ... like your brother said, about the girls last winter. But you don't know until after you have done it."

His sister snickered softly with a nod and said:

"He mentioned them, too," and smiled: "... I guess not. ... But then, at least, you ..., well, you know, ... you know that he was a good lover."

She could see Martha's nipples stand out as she smiled and then grinned with a nod and agreed:

"Um-hmm. The best, but we talked about that before," and rubbed her breasts with the heels of her hands, snickering a little at what she was doing.

"I shouldn't have asked, but ..., thank you."

"That's all right."

They both returned to eating their meal, silent for a while, even when they both took a drink from their glasses and looked at each other.

"It looks like it's going to be a clear night," his sister finally said: "... It's really great out here; you can see the Milky Way and just lots and lots of stars. In the city, you can hardly see any."

"I can imagine. It will be nice, like in the mountains at home, where there are no city lights."

"Yeah, probably, ... of course. And sometimes there is phosphorescence in the water, little spots of light, like stars. I think it comes from little animals in the water, well ... real little animals that you can't see."

Martha nodded and agreed:

"I've heard about that, but never seen it. I think the water is too cold in Norway for those 'little animals'. I hope I can see it, if not tonight, then this week."

"Me too. It's kind of magical, like all the stars. You just can't believe there are so many, and that the water is lighting up with all those sparks of light, sort of like shooting stars, just showing for a moment when the waves break."

"Is it like that? That sounded poetic."

"Oh? ... Well, ... if it did, that's 'cause it's the way it seems."

They looked at each other again with smiles and had another drink from their glasses.

And then they were finished with their meal and emptied their glasses with another glance, and started to clear the table. By the time they had cleaned up the kitchen, the sun was beginning to set, but neither of them suggested turning on the lights when they went back to the living room, and they stood together at the open door, looking out at the darkening beach, where there were still a few people walking along on the moist sand. They watched them, standing closer, their shoulders brushing, but like on the deck, neither moved away, both silent for a while, until his sister almost whispered:

"When it's really dark, we can go out on the deck ... like this, ... without having to put anything on."

Martha nodded, and then they turned back to the living room, but neither seemed to make a move to return to the puzzle, and then Martha asked if they wanted another beer. In the dim light, his sister smiled at her and said that was a nice suggestion, and went to get them. Martha followed her, so she handed her a can when she had taken them from the fridge, and then they went back to the living room. When Martha started to sit on the sofa, she stopped her and said that they should get a towel to sit on and hurried off to get one.

Martha was still standing, waiting for her, and she spread the towel out on the sofa, and they sat down, probably closer together than they would have if they didn't have to share the towel. They opened their cans and both turned and said "Skaal" at the same time, smiling in the twilight before they drank, and then again afterwards. Their knees had touched when they turned, but when they turned back, they stayed in contact, even when they settled back and looked out at the view, and their feet slid a little further away from the sofa. After a moment or two, they both took another sip of beer, and Martha said:

"I was wondering what it would be like out here, the house, and the beach. Nice. I'm real glad I could come."

"Me too, and not just 'cause I get another week in the sun."

"At home, we don't have any big beaches like this. It just goes on and on, as far as you can see in either direction. Oh, we have some nice, sandy beaches, but just small ones, and then there are rocks again, and some places we swim, it's just rock, just a place where the granite slopes down into the water, but that's nice too. The rock is pretty smooth, from the glaciers, not jagged, like up in the mountains, where there weren't any glaciers. But lower down, there are lakes with smooth rock, and that is nice too.

"It sounds like it. ... Oh, we can see some stars now."

"Um-hmm. It is going to be a clear night, ... like you said."

They had another sip from their cans, and when Martha's foot moved a little, their calves touched - and also stayed that way, and they were silent for a long time, long enough to notice that it was growing darker. His sister took a longer drink from her can and then sat up and said: "I've got to go. Here, hold my can."

Martha nodded as she took it, and his sister got up and went to the bathroom, finding the toilet in the dark. After she flushed, she washed her hands, and then snorted softly as she quickly rinsed herself with one hand and then dried her hands and between her legs, and then went back to Martha and sat back down. Martha handed her her beer, and they both drank, and then Martha drank again, emptying her can, and got up, saying she had better go, too, before they went out to look at the stars.

His sister nodded with an "um-hmm," and Martha went off in the dark. She heard her bump into something and her soft "oh!", and then she heard her using the toilet and its flushing, and then the water running in the sink. She finished the little rest in her can and put it on the floor and got up as Martha returned.

"Hi, she said softly, and they both went to the door to the deck. 

"Watch the step," she warned as Martha followed her out onto the deck, and then they walked out to the railing. Both of them look up at the stars, turning their heads in silence for a moment.

"Wow! Isn't it great?" she softly asked Martha.

"Um-hmm, wonderful, like at home in the mountains, the same stars. ... Hi, tell them all hallo at home."

"Uh-hmm. That's nice, the same stars for us all ..." and smiled at Martha in the dark, and then turned back to the rail and looked out at the ocean: 

"... but there isn't any phosphorescence, she added in a disappointed tone.

"Hm-umm, I guess not," she heard Martha murmur just behind her.

They stood silently like that for a few moments. His sister looked around at the sky again, and then turned her head back and smiled at Martha, just seeing her dim silhouette close behind her. "Um-hmm," Martha murmured. His sister looked back out at the ocean, taking a deep breath, and then another one. And then she drew another one and whispered:

"Give me your hands," and reached hers back at her hips.

After a moment, she felt Martha's hands find hers, slipping over the backs of hers and holding them. "Um-hmm," she responded, but then after another deep breath, she murmured:

"No, I want to hold yours." Martha let her slip her hands free and hold the back of her hands, then after a moment pressing them to her hips, and after another moment, Martha's fingers moved on her slightly. His sister took another deep breath, holding it for a moment and then murmuring:

"I want to, ... want ..." and she drew Martha's hands up to her breasts. Martha didn't resist her placing them on them, and then after a soft snort, murmured "um-hmm" and held them, and his sister pressed them to her, and then after a moment felt Martha hold her closer, felt her breasts on her back and her hips against her ass.

"Um-hmm," she murmured as she squeezed Martha's hands, adding: "... You're nice and warm."

"You are too."

"It's just nice to touch, to feel each other's warmth."

"Umm-hmm. I didn't know if I wanted you to do that ..."

"You thought I would?"

"When you asked for my hands. But maybe I was already anticipating that you would, ... maybe a little warned from what he told, how spontaneous you could be."

"I guess I was, surprising him."

"Um-hmm, but he didn't mind," Martha murmured and squeezed her breasts. Then she chuckled softly and remarked:

"And now I know why boys like to hold them, ... feels good ..."

"Um-hmm, it does, but we knew that. Thank you, that you let me."

"Oh, maybe I wanted to ... a little, ... just hadn't admitted it to myself, ... let myself think about it."

"That's nice. I hope so. You were standing so close - I could feel your warmth behind me. It just seemed like ..., like ... well, ... you could be wanting to. If you had been a boy, you certainly would have been, ... and then ... I wanted to ..."

"Um-hmm, but I'm not."

"That doesn't matter, if it feels good, ... and you know how it does for me, ... feel good."

"Um-hmm! I guess we do," and Martha moved her hands slightly and caught her stiff nipples between her fingers.

"Uhnnn! We sure do, if you do that!" and she pressed Martha's hands to her breasts.

"Maybe I shouldn't have done that. It was just sort of a reflex."

"A nice one, like touching ourselves. They were wanting it."

"I guess so."

For a moment they were silent and still, their bodies pressed together. His sister took a deep breath again, her chest rising under Martha's hands, and then falling as she exhaled, and she felt Martha's breasts rise and her stomach touch her, and then she took another deep breath, holding it, and then exhaling again.

"You want to ask something," Martha murmured, almost in her ear.

"Um-hmm," and his sister took another deep breath and then murmured:

"No, I won't ask you," holding her breath. Martha's fingers rubbed over her stiff nipples. She exhaled with a soft moan and took another breath, holding it for a moment, and then whispered:

"I'll just tell you, and you don't have to answer." She took another breath, but before she could go on, Martha squeezed her breasts again and replied:

"I think I can imagine what, what we were talking about ..."

"What he likes to do?"

"Um-hmm."

"Um-hmm, I ..., I want to. You don't have to."

For a moment, Martha rubbed her breasts, rubbed her aroused nipples, and then chuckled and said: 

"My mother said we should always taste something at least once, before we said we didn't like it."

"Oh, really? Mine too. I want to; I know I'll like it."

"I don't know if they would want us to, ... in this case."

"That doesn't matter; we're not going to tell them."

"No," Martha agreed, not just rubbing her nipples.

His sister hummed, wriggling her ass and back against Martha, who blew on the back of her head. She turned it, offering her ear. Martha puffed in it and then found it with her tongue, eliciting another hum, and then murmured: "I want to, too."

They both moaned, nodding, pressing their bodies together. His sister murmured: 

"In his room - bigger bed," removing Martha's hands and leading her by one back into the house and into his room.

Still holding her hand in the dark room, she found the bed and pulled the covers back and sat down, drawing Martha down next to her. Then she found Martha's breast with her other hand, holding it and then rubbing her stiff nipple with her thumb.

"Um-hmm," Martha responded and found her breast in return, rubbing her nipple again for a moment, and then lay back, curling up behind her as she brought her legs up onto the bed. His sister turned and lay down next to her, finding her thigh with her head as they settled themselves in the middle of the bed, drawing her thigh up and feeling Martha rest her head on it. 

"Um-hmm," she sighed as she drew herself closer to Martha with her hands on her waist and felt her do the same and felt her breath on her stomach as her hand slid up over Martha's hip and her mouth brushed her soft hair. For a few moments, she nuzzled her mouth on it, and then her hand slid a little further and urged Martha to raise her thigh, and she did, letting her press her face up between her thighs, and her mouth found her soft lips, and her tongue found them as she clutched Martha's hips to her face, and then her tongue could explore between them.




Martha in America Ch. 09



Martha nodded with a sigh and kissed her hair, just holding her hips with her nose pressed between her thighs, her breath warm against her, as her tongue discovered Martha's moist arousal, and her hips moved to let her explore deeper, inviting her to find her opening. Then Martha's hand urged her to open her thighs, and her mouth was immediately on her, her tongue immediately slipping between her lips and finding her inner lips and then her moist opening, as Martha's hands hugged her hips to her and her tongue explored.

"Um-hmm!" his sister moaned encouragingly and rocked her pelvis up against Martha's mouth, and then tried to do what she was doing with her tongue, trying to move it in unison with hers, both of them lapping the length of the other's pussy, and when one or the other concentrated on the other's hole or tender clitoris, the other followed immediately, and their hips responded together as they both moaned in appreciation.

When his sister's fingers started to rub on the firm base of Martha's spine, Martha's fingers followed, and then explored slightly lower, and hers did, and then they were both finding the other's asshole as they exchanged nods, and then their fingers were trying to move in concert, like their tongues, and their hips were beginning to twitch as they buried their noses in each other's pussy and sucked and nibbled each other's aroused clitoris, both moaning and gasping as their hips moved, encouraging each other. And then they came, each starting with a gasping moan, but then both continuing as they slurped in each other's moisture, not stopping till first one and then the other gasped with a final moan and relaxed, both of them gasping with deep moans a few times as they lay there, holding each other.

Finally after a minute or two, his sister reached down and fondled Martha's breast, and then her other one, and then with a soft "come here, hold me," urged her to join her. Martha did, and she moved up onto her brother's pillow, but Martha turned and lay with her back to her. She slid her hand over her side and found her breast, her nipple all soft in her palm, and then held her lower one and hugged her to her. Martha just lay there, letting her hold her.

"That was wonderful! Oh, thank you, for letting me do it, ... and for doing it. I knew it would be that good, to do it, to know what he loves to do. And, of course, it was just as good, what you were doing, ... thank you. ... Mmmm, we both learned from him."

Martha just nodded, and his sister was still for a few moments. Then Martha nodded again with a soft "um-hmm," and they were silent for a while longer.

"Didn't you like it? You must have; you did it so good. ... And you sure came good! I just loved that! ... like he does. Oh, I wanted it to be like that!"

Martha just nodded again, and she remained silent for while again, and then asked softly:

"Is anything wrong?" And then, when Martha didn't respond, she whispered: "But you must have liked it; you did it so good." Martha still didn't respond, and then after a few more moments of silence, she asked:

"Didn't he tell you about those girls ... that did it, and then did it with him? You don't have to worry about having liked it."

Finally Martha stirred, holding her hand on her breast, and chuckled softly, and then replied brightly:

"I hope not. I was right, that my mother might not like that I liked it after I tried it - 'just once,' and she snickered and squeezed her hand. "Oh, it was good, just like you said. That was sweet, just like it was, too good, ... both ways, thank you," and she squeezed her hand again. "Oh, I wanted to do it, was curious - just like you were - but I guess I had more of a problem with the idea. That was sweet, out on the deck, ... how you 'managed' that. No wonder he let you do what you wanted. And I wanted to, too, just a little surprised about how much I then wanted to."

They both snorted, and she fondled Martha's nipple under her hand until it stiffened and Martha clutched her hand with a snicker and whispered: "Stop it!" They both giggled, and then giggled again, as though that were funny. Martha sat up and felt around for the covers and pulled them up and then lay down facing her, pulling the covers up to their necks and putting her arm around.

"That's what I wanted you to do before," she responded as she put her arm around Martha.

"Um-hmm, ... maybe it's good that it's dark. I can't imagine seeing myself do this - or that - and she giggled again.

"I think I could, but maybe not the first time, you're right. It was easier in the dark." 

Martha nodded and rubbed her back, and she rubbed hers in return. After a few moments, they both drew their legs up, their knees touching, and then after another moment, they let them overlap, slipping their feet past each others' and settling a little closer together.

"Oooh, all wet," she remarked softly, and Martha nodded on the pillow with a chuckle and agreed: "From me too." Then they relaxed together. She was almost asleep when she heard Martha murmur: "Goodnight," and replied: "Goodnight. ... And thank you, again."

"Um-hmm, thank you, too," and then she was asleep.

In her sleep, his sister rolled over, but then was only aware of the comfortable feeling of a hand on her breast as she dozed off again. When she woke up, the hand was gone. Eventually, she opened her eyes, blinking with a snort of recollection as she freed them of the dried reminder of Martha's orgasm. It was just dawning. She started to roll on her back, but bumped up against Martha. She smiled to herself and waited for a moment, and when Martha didn't stir, she slipped out from under the covers and went to the bathroom. When she returned, she saw that Martha had rolled onto her back. She was still for a moment, watching her, and then since she seemed to be still asleep, she went quietly around to the other side of the bed, where there was more space, and tried to slip under the covers without disturbing Martha. It seemed that she had, and she lay still, waiting.

Then Martha chuckled softly and said: "Good morning," and chuckled again and added: "I better keep my eyes closed." She chuckled in response and replied: "Good morning. Yes, I guess you'd better, if you don't want to see us, ... or just see yourself - like this."

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed and did so, but his sister saw her smile and then ventured to make herself more comfortable, bringing her thigh up against Martha's as she shifted her weight a little towards her, and when she saw her smile again, she slid her hand over her stomach and relaxed.

"Um-hmm," Martha murmured again with her eyes still closed, and then she slid her hand and arm up on top of his sister's, and they lay like that for a minute or two. Then she saw Martha's eyes open, blinking first a couple of times as she snorted softly. 

"You too. You're going to dare to look?" she asked. Martha turned her head to her with a smile and squeezed her forearm and said: "I guess I have to, and I have to go, too." Before she got up, she slid her hand up and rubbed his sister's breast and then clambered over her under the covers.

Then she slipped out from under the covers and went off without looking back. His sister heard her use the toilet and flush, and then heard the water in the washbasin, and moved to the far side of the bed. Martha returned, giving her a little wry smile before she slipped back under the covers. She settled down then after a moment reached over again and lightly rubbed his sister's breast with the back of her fingers. 

She rubbed Martha's the same way, and they both chuckled at feeling their nipples stiffen. Their knees touched, and they let them overlap, nodding and drawing their thighs up a little more, more comfortably together. Then they were both still and silent for a while. Then 

Martha chuckled again and remarked:

"Now half the girls he has slept with have done it ... with other girls."

"Really! How many has he slept with?"

"Ten, ... with me, ... with us."

"And five have done it? Yeah, I guess. Oooh, ten! Yeah, I guess so. That seems like an awfully high percentage."

"Um-hmm, for prudish Americans."

"Um-hmm, but I guess we aren't, at least not the ones he knows. 

They both chuckled, and his sister continued: 

"It's all been so much better than I could ever have imagined: with him, and with you now, ... even if we hadn't, ... just being able to talk about it with you." 

Martha lightly rubbed her breast again, not arousing her soft nipple. His sister asked:

"Are we going to tell him?"

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

"I don't know. Do you think he thinks we would have."

"Maybe. We both sort of talked about it, and he knows you, ... I do, too, now. ... If you wanted to - and you did. ... Well, ... if he thought you really did, he would probably think that we did, but maybe not the first night."

"Hmm! Yeah, I guess, but ... not without your help."

Martha chuckled and agreed:

"Yes, I guess not. Oh, I guess I really sort of helped. Even though I knew that you had, or just that you wanted to go topless, I could have pretended that I was surprised when your top slipped off and not said what I did. But I wanted to sunbathe nude, at least topless, and, of course, that suggested an intimacy that could suggest something else - and did. Hmm! And I wasn't doing anything to avoid that."

"Um-hmm, and also curious, like you said. ... Thank you."

His sister squeezed Martha's thigh with hers in a reflex, and Martha rubbed her breast again with the backs of her fingers. His sister turned her hand and held Martha's. She smiled slightly with a little nod and also turned her hand.

"Um-hmm," they both agreed as they held each other and then were silent for a few moments, but their thumbs were moving, and both their thighs twitched.

Then his sister murmured: "If you still don't know if you can see yourself like this, I can slip my head under the covers." Martha chuckled softly and replied: "Maybe that's a good idea."



She did, scrunching herself down the bed a bit. Martha removed her arm from between them and put it behind and then under his sister's head as she moved her body lower, pressing her lower thigh against Martha's, who raised it a little, letting her hold it between hers as she moved her head down under the covers onto Martha's shoulder. Martha encouraged her, holding her shoulder closer, and she moved her head down and found Martha's breast with her mouth, found her erect nipple and held it with her lips and began to suck as Martha held her closer with a soft moan.

"Mmmm, um-hmm," they both agreed as their thighs clutched and then relaxed, and then moved and clutched again, now with Martha's raised up between hers, as hers pressed down between Martha's. As she sucked and moved her tongue on Martha's aroused nipple, she clutched her again with her thighs and hands and then murmured: "I do want to see us," and she raised her free leg and flung back the covers and looked down at his sister's head with her mouth glued to her breast, as her thigh returned to hold his sister's.

"Uhn-hnnn!" his sister responded as her tongue moved as she nursed on Martha's breast, and their thighs squeezed again. "Mmmm!" Martha responded, as her thigh twitched up between those of his sister. They loosened and then spread, letting Martha's draw all the way up between them. and then held it again. 

Their thighs squeezed again, and their hips rocked together. Then Martha moaned and murmured:

"I want to see that too, ... not just see it."

His sister nodded, moving her breast with her mouth before she relinquished it and then was sliding her face down over Martha's stomach as she moved her legs around to bring them up towards the head of the bed. Martha moved to the side and rolled towards her as she lay down beside her, offering Martha her thigh as a pillow as she raised her other one up, letting her see it as she moved her head onto her thigh. With her hand, she urged Martha open hers, but she clamped them together and with almost a giggle said:

"You've got to say it, too, that you want to see it."

His sister snickered and responded:

"I want to see it. I want to see ... my first pussy, ... your pussy." 

Martha raised her thigh with a nod and chuckle, and and they both looked at them with their thighs propped up. 

"Ummm, yours is pretty, too, ... if mine really is? I told him that he probably tells them all that," his sister said.

"It is. ... And he didn't tell me, just that about my hair."

"Hm-hmm. ... And his - not his pussy! How is it? Are they all the same? ... Is his ..., uh, ... is it larger than some, ... than most?"

"Hm-hmm! I guess you need to ask. ... Hm-umm, I don't think so, ... but not smaller, either. They all fit."

They both snickered and Martha continued:

"I never thought about it, so I guess they're all about the same size."

"Oh, that's good, ... and that they fit. ... You wouldn't think it could - the first time."

They both snickered again. His sister rested her hand on the point of Martha's hipbone and rubbed her thumb in the hollow at the base of her thigh, as she said:

"He was right about your hair."

"But your is nice, too, ... as much as anyone would want, ... like your breasts," and her hand found one, her fingers holding its fullness for a moment, squeezing it, and then finding her aroused nipple. His sister moved her thumb again with an appreciative sigh as her other hand slipped under Martha's waist - and hers did the same - and they both held each other's hips and moved their faces closer up the other's thigh. Martha's other hand slid up from his sister's her breast and towards her hip, and then they were both drawing each other closer, their faces sliding up between their open thighs. And then with a mutual sigh, they clasped each other together and burrowed their faces deep between the other's waiting thighs that lowered to hold the other's head as their mouths found the other's aroused pussy.



Martha in America Ch. 10



They both snickered again. His sister rested her hand on the point of Martha's hipbone and rubbed her thumb in the hollow at the base of her thigh, as she said:

"He was right about your hair."

"But your is nice, too, ... as much as anyone would want, ... like your breasts," and her hand found one, her fingers holding its fullness for a moment, squeezing it, and then finding her aroused nipple. His sister moved her thumb again with an appreciative sigh as her other hand slipped under Martha's waist - and hers did the same - and they both held each other's hips and moved their faces closer up the other's thigh. Martha's other hand slid up from his sister's her breast and towards her hip, and then they were both drawing each other closer, their faces sliding up between their open thighs. And then with a mutual sigh, they clasped each other together and burrowed their faces deep between the other's waiting thighs that lowered to hold the other's head as their mouths found the other's aroused pussy.

In the now brighter morning light, there was no hesitation about what they wanted. Clasped together in perfectly mirrored positions, their bodies hardly moving, just twitching occasionally as their tongues moved, hidden in each other's moist, aroused cunt, and moved in unison, better now than the first time, lapping and boring, and lapping and rubbing the other's firm, aroused clitoris in almost perfect unison. And in the same unison, their fingers slipped down into the crevice between the other's hips and found her asshole, both holding still for a moment as their fingers moved, and then their hips moved in unison, rocking up, and then relaxing, and then rocking up as they both moaned, and then moaned again more emphatically as they clutched each other and their thighs twitched, and then twitched again, fluttering, quivering, and then clutching and clutching again and again with wet noises, as they gasped and moaned, and then again and again as their hips jerked and their thighs quivered.

And then they just sighed loudly, and their bodies slumped, completely relaxed, just moving with their following deep breathing and sighs.

And then they just lay, breathing less deeply, and then their hands moved, stroking each other a little. One and then the other extended her leg, leaving the other's face free. Then they were still for a while longer. When his sister slid her hand down and found Martha's breast, holding it, Martha did the same. They fondled each other while one and then the other took a deeper breath, but then released it.

Then, finally, Martha drew another deeper breath and asked softly:

"Do you always ... come that good? That must have been wonderful."

"It was, thank you. ... Not until he did it for me. Don't you? It was so good, and knowing you were, too, ... that I was making it so good for you. ... I just loved it, ... like I thought I would, ... all in my face. I wanted that. ... Don't you?

"Not until he did it. ... Hnnn! Like you said. ... You're lucky, learning so soon. ... And I wanted you to, ... wanted to know it was being good for you and to have it ... like you said."

"All in our faces, like he likes it. Now I ... we know why he loves it so much. I do too."

Martha nodded. After a moment his sister continued:

"And oh, that was so good, when we were doing it together, it was almost as though I were doing it to myself. That was funny, but so good."

Um-hmm, like that. That occurred to me, too, ... yes, funny. ... Oh, thank you, too. I should have said that before. I guess I didn't want to admit how much I liked it."

Martha squeezed her breast, and she squeezed hers in return and replied:

"I'm so glad you did. It's just too good not to like it! ... Oh, ... I guess ...? Oh, ... I don't know, ... I guess, I just love it any way. ... I mean, ... well, I shouldn't have done it with him, ... maybe more than I shouldn't with you, so ...? Oh, I didn't mean that! I didn't want to say that! ... I mean, ... 'cause I shouldn't have done it with him, it wasn't any more of a taboo - breaking a taboo - to want to do it with you, ... and I did. Well, it was easier for me to admit I wanted to. ... Yeah, I think that's what I mean, what I wanted to say, ... that it was easier for me to admit to myself that I wanted to, that I liked it. Did that make sense?"

Martha snorted with a smile and nodded and agreed:

"I think so, yeah, that made sense, ... after you got there."

They both snorted, and then Martha added:

"Yeah, I think it does, sort of explains why it was more difficult for me to admit I did, ... that I do, too."

"Oh, that's good! Thank you, ... for helping me explain what I meant, ... and for agreeing that you liked it. ... I wanted you to, ... didn't want you not to, ... want to feel that maybe you really didn't want to, ... even if you did it - and so good - but then wished you hadn't."

"I might have, before you said all that. But now I can't help but admit that I really liked it. ... You're as good about talking about sex as your brother is."

His sister snickered and replied:

"You know where I learned.

"Hmm! Um-hmm. I did too, from him. I wonder what he thinks we are doing?"

"Right now? What we could be doing? What time is it? Maybe he's taking a shower - and washing it - ... hmm? - not like that, or maybe like that - and thinking we could be too, one of us, or both of us - showering - or already making breakfast, naked. Yeah, he probably thinks that, at least, that we have agreed to go naked, knowing we both would want to."

"Um-hmm, we sure did. And if he thought that, he must be wondering if we will ..."

"And probably pretty sure that we will. He knows us both pretty well."

"Well, we haven't disappointed him then."

"That sounds funny, two girls that have slept with him agreeing that they haven't disappointed him ... this way."

"Um-hmm, but he would understand and ..."

"And like it. Like with the roommates, ... or that other girl. He didn't mind that they did, and they were good, ... with him. Of course, if they liked what he likes, they must have liked everything, wanted him to do everything, ... anything he liked ..."

"Or they liked."

"Like us."

"I guess so."

"We do."

Martha squeezed her breast in response and was silent for a moment before she replied:

"But don't tell anyone."

They both snickered softly as they fondled each other's breast, and then his sister murmured:

"Not even him?"

"You probably won't need to tell him. He'll just know."

"Yeah, ... probably. ... I hope you don't mind?"

"I guess not. ... No, ... I kind of like the idea, ... that he thinks - would think - we have, that we were curious enough to ..."

"And liked it."

"Yeah, ... I guess ..., that, too."

"Oh, I do! ... Oh? ... I guess that's like before, ... that it's easier for me to say so. ... But I really hope you did."

Martha just nodded on his sister's thigh with a little snort, and then blew on her hair, and then snorted again and fondled her breast with another nod and replied:

"Um-hmm, but ... No 'but', ... it's just still a new idea, ... a little hard to admit. Oh, I think all girls would like it ... if they once did it, ... sort of like doing it to him the first time, but that was easier ... to admit I like. ... Hm-mmm! I really told him how much I liked that."

"Me too!"

"Um-hmm. .... Hm-mmm! Wanting to have my mouth full of 'that white stuff'!"

They both snickered and then giggled, and his sister sat up and looked down at Martha as she rolled onto her back, smiling and then grinning at each other with a snort, and then looked at each other's nude bodies, and snorted again with another grin.

"And do you think boys would like it, ... 'if they once did it'?" his sister asked.

"Hmmm? You'd better ask him, ... or had better not. I think they have more of a problem with it."

"Maybe so. ... And ... I don't know if I would want them not to."

"Me either. ... or is it: me neither?"

"I don't know. 'Me either'? 'Me neither'? I think: 'me either'; agreeing with me, ... with what I said, ... even if it was saying something negative. ... If I had said: 'I don't want him to' - 'want them to' - then: 'me neither.' But I said: 'I don't know ...', and you agreed that you don't know, 'either'. Does that make sense?"

Martha smiled with a nod and sat up and said:

"Yes, about as complicated as Latin grammar."

As Martha started to get up, his sister replied:

"I don't know if I learned that at school, I think, more from my father. He is a stickler about correct English. That helped me with my bikini; I caught him on an error when we were talking about it when they first saw it."

Martha chuckled and replied:

"My good luck; getting into a family that is so correct about everything."

They both laughed, and his sister agreed:

"Ours too, ... that you did, ... if we leave my parents out of it."

They both chuckled as they went towards the bathroom. Martha agreed and said:

"We laughed about that - sometime after ... I knew about you two - that he was just treating me like another member of the family, the way a family should treat an au pair."

"Oh, that's good!" she replied with a snicker: "... but I guess they didn't mean it that way."

Martha nodded with a smile, and they stepped into the tub. Martha turned on the water as she closed the shower curtain, and then they were washing each other, passing the soap back and forth as they stood close together under the shower.

"I guess we both learned this from him, too," she murmured as Martha washed her breasts.

"Um-hmm, 'saving water'," and they both chuckled as she took the soap and washed Martha's and then slid her hand down and let her fingers play in her hair as Martha took the soap and did the same with her soapy fingers.

"Um-hmm," she acknowledged and opened her thighs to let Martha wash her and slid her fingers between Martha's. They both nodded slightly as they smiled briefly at each other, and then their other hands slid down and between the cheeks of each other's ass and washed there too as they stood closer, their breasts touching.

"Funny," she murmured to Martha as their hands slid away: "... that we like that, find it arousing and want it, when ..., but now it's just nice and intimate, ... like with him."

"Um-hmm. I guess we don't need to do our legs."

Martha put the soap back in the soap-dish, and then they rinsed each other. Martha turned off the water, and they pulled back the shower curtain and found their towels.

Smirking a little at each other, they went to the kitchen.

"Can you make an omelette the way he does?" his sister asked.

"How is that?"

"With ham and cheese."

"I can try. Onions too? I like onions."

"If you want. I do too."

"I'll try."

"I'll set the table."

They went about their tasks and were soon sitting down to Martha's omelette, smiling at each other and then enjoying it and then the bread and jam she had placed on the table. When they had finished, they cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen. And then they were back out on the deck, almost forgetting to be discreet about going out there with nothing on, giggling as they both crouched down with their towels and crept out into the sun. Martha let her spread suntan lotion on her, front and back, all over, and chuckled about how she did it. She only wanted lotion where her one-piece bathing suit had covered her, but they both enjoyed that was the area most fun to apply it. Chuckling, they lay down, smiling at each other as they lay on their stomachs.

After a few minutes, she glanced again at Martha and said:

"We should have brought books."

"Um-hmm. We can go and try to find some."

"Yeah, I guess. There are some on the shelf in the living room. Maybe later."

She rolled over, getting herself back on her towel, and then opened her legs, letting the sun shine on her pussy as she glanced over at Martha, who smiled and remarked:

"Don't get a sun-burn."

"Feels good; warm in the sun, but a little strange ... with the fresh air."

Martha snorted with another brief smile and then closed her eyes. After a few moments, his sister glanced over at her again and then spread her thighs a little more as she smirked to herself. When Martha open her eyes and turned her face away from her , she quickly moved them back to where they had been before, but when she saw Martha settle down again, she smirked with a silent snort and drew her knees up and let them flop open. She lay like that with a little smile on her face and then another silent snort when her nipples stiffened. Then they relaxed again, and her smile faded as she lay there with her eyes closed. After a minute or two, she smiled again, and they tightened again, and she snorted softly again and then opened her eyes and glanced over at Martha.

After several more minutes, she lowered her knees, glancing at Martha again, and just lay there. Martha rolled over, settling herself back on her towel and then glancing over at her with a brief smile before she closed her eyes again. His sister turned her head a little so that she could look at her, looking at her breasts and then glancing at her own, and then looking at Martha's again. When she saw Martha's nipples tighten, she snorted slightly with a smile and glanced up and saw that Martha was also smiling and snorted again, and then turned her face back up to the sun, and then they both just lay there in silence, almost dozing.

"This is just too good," Martha murmured, awakening her.

"Um-hmm," she agreed.

"I didn't think America would be like this."

"Me neither, ... or anywhere, really, ... maybe just in a novel."

"Um-hmm: 'me neither.' Like you said: "I didn't think ...,' and you agreed that you didn't either - 'neither'.

"Umm-hmm, that's right."

"Hm-mmm! What novel?"

His sister blushed slightly and looked over at Martha and found her looking at her.

"Did he tell you, what book I had brought out here?"

"Um-hmm. He gave it to me."

"Really?! Oh, probably after the first night. ... But I didn't read it, just thumbed through it when I found it. Wonder what would have happen if we hadn't, and I had started to read it."

"Sound's like you had been planning for something to happen."

"Hmm!? I don't think so, but now it's hard to deny that I might have been, subconsciously. Did you read it?"

"Yes, but not the way one should read a good novel."

They both snickered and smiled at each other, and then turned over on their stomachs. After a few moments, his sister asked:

"Can I ask you something?"

"If you have to ask that first ..., can't think of anything you can't ask me now." 

"Uh, ... uh? ... What are they like? The one's that aren't like my brother's, ... their 'John Thomas'? I found that in the book."

Martha snorted with a grin and replied:

"He was right: 'interesting.' And they were all different, ... I mean, all not like your brother's. What do you want to know?"

"What they're like. Like in paintings - well, they never show in paintings, just little boys' - Amor or Jesus, and his shouldn't have been like that. I guess, on statues - David in Florence - his shouldn't have been either - or where they haven't been knocked off."

"They're like that, ... well, on grown men, the skin doesn't usually cover them the way they show on statues, ... hm-mmm! ... especially not when they're the way you'll probably get to see them."

They both snickered as she continued:

"Then they don't look much different from his, ... and, if you want to know ..."

His sister nodded: "... you can move the skin all up and down - even when they're like that. Nice, I like that."

"I bet I would, too."

"Um-hmm, but it really doesn't make much difference."

"We like them, either way."

They both chuckled again, and his sister smirked with a nod and replied:

"Thanks. You're great! Who else could I ask that?"

Martha just smiled and nodded, and then they were silent for a while. Suddenly they were aware of people on the beach, closer to the house than usual, and both were silent for a moment, listening, looking at each other questioningly.

"We should have brought something to put on," Martha whispered.

"Um-hmm," she agreed, and then they both snuck back into the house on their hands and knees, going further into the shadow before standing up and looking at each other. They went and put on their bikinis and then returned to the living room, and then went back out on the deck, looking out at the beach, but the people had disappeared. They smiled at each other a little sheepishly, but agreed that they should have thought about that before, and then agreed to look for something to read and went back into the house.

When they saw the puzzle, they both started to look for matching pieces, finding a few as they sat down at the table, but then agreeing to go back out in the sun. His sister found a James Bond book and suggested to Martha that she might like Marjorie Morningstar, explaining:

"He said it was about a Jewish girl in New York ... and has some sex. Yeah, I remember when it came out, there were some comments that it went pretty far."

"Oh? Really?" Martha replied as she reached for it and then turned and looked at her with a smirk and added:

"Oh, I don't know, ... don't know if I should be reading something like that ..."

They grinned at each other and went back outside, first checking again if anyone was too near, and then returning to their towels and taking off their bikini tops.

"Oh, maybe we should get shirts or something, that we can put on faster," Martha suggested, and they put their tops back on and went back into the house. On the way, his sister suggested: "I know; we can get a couple of his shirts, and they'll be long enough to cover our bottoms, too." 

Martha followed her into his room, and she found his shirts, holding up an "Alligator" polo-shirt and then holding it in front of herself to see if it was long enough, and then handed it to Martha, who found it a little too short. His sister then found a striped shirt with long tails, and Martha agreed that that was adequate but asked if he wouldn't mind.

"Oh, we won't get them dirty, can put them back, and he will like that we thought we had needed them - why," and they both smiled, and then she grinned and added: "And now we don't need these," and started to take off her bikini and thenput on the shirt and felt where the hem was and asked:

"Long enough?" 

"If you don't bend over, ... or stand too close to the railing," Martha replied and buttoned up his shirt, that was long enough to obviate the need to ask the same question.

They went back out on the deck and sat down and took the shirts off, smirking slightly, and then they lay down again and started reading their books.

After a while, she noticed Martha flipping a few pages ahead, and then a few more, reading a bit, and the flipping even further ahead, reading again, and then flipping back a couple of pages and beginning to read again.

"You're cheating," she commented as she looked over at Martha, who snorted and nodded and then replied:

"I just wanted to know what they thought was going 'pretty far'."

"Me, too. Did you find it?"

"I think so, ... at least, they could, but maybe not yet."

"Oh, that's good! I hope they do. Let me see."

She sat back and moved her towel closer to Martha's and lay back down with her shoulder touching Martha's, who shoved the book over between them. They read silently, nodding when the page could be turned, and then again for the next one.

"That wasn't it," his sister remarked in a disappointed sounding tone. Martha just nodded.

"Try again," she suggested, and Martha snorted and flipped ahead a few more pages, and then thought for a moment, and flipped through the pages, stopping for a moment at the beginning of a new chapter and reading for moment, and then explaining:




Martha in America Ch. 10



"It would probably be at the end of a chapter."

"Yeah, of course, the climax," and she snorted: "... and the next chapter would start the next morning, ... or whatever."

Martha nodded as she found another chapter and read again, but then searched for another one, and then nodded and flipped back a couple of pages. His sister moved closer to her as they started to read and then both nodded with a soft "um-hmm." When Martha fingered the corner of the page, she nodded, and they read the last page and half of the chapter, both of them rocking their hips down onto the deck once.

"Hmmm," his sister snorted when they had finished reading, and glanced at Martha and remarked: "Well, you knew what they did, but it was only suggestive. 'Lady Chatterley' was better." Martha nodded and remarked: "But I guess it was suggestive enough to count as 'going pretty far.'"

"Yeah, I guess, ... but I could write something better. We talked about how I could have imagined my first time could have otherwise been. If I wrote it, it wouldn't have been better than it was, just not with him.

"I guess you could, but I bet it would be more than just 'going pretty far.'"

"Oh, it would be, if just that is considered 'going pretty far.' I'd write about how good it is. Well, ... I guess that came across. Maybe that is the trick, to keep it subtle enough so that it can still be published as literature."

Martha snickered again and rubbed her shoulder on hers with a nod and remarked:

"But I bet it would be good."

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a grin, moving her shoulder in response.

"Girls too?"

"I hadn't thought about that, ... but since you asked ...?"

"You'd better not."

"Why not? If it can't be published, anyway?"

Martha snickered and gave her a little shove with her shoulder as she replied:

"I don't want to be ... want to appear even in an unpublished work."

"Oh, it wouldn't be you, just someone like you - real nice - and I would let her do what I did. I don't want to be too honest about myself, either, like I was thinking the man would be teaching me all about it. Well, my brother did, but I would let the man take the initiative, instead of leading him on with questions."

Martha snickered - almost a giggle - as she turned her head to look at her with a suppressed smile and then moved her lips, and then gave her another little shove, and his sister returned it, and then Martha gave her a firmer one, and she let it roll back onto her side as they looked at each and then smiled slightly, and then she rolled onto her back, looking up at Martha, who was still propped up on her elbows. They both smiled again, and their nipples were all stiff, and his sister's hand slid under Martha's chest and found her breast, just moving it as hung there. Martha snorted softly, her face unmoved as they looked in each other's eyes, and then her fingers held Martha's breast, and then slid down around her aroused nipple, all five fingers exploring around its stiff tip.

"Mmmm," they both sighed as they continued to look in each other's eyes, and then Martha's glanced over at her nipples, that were just as aroused. "Um-hmm," she responded as her thighs twitched together, and Martha's hand moved, and then she had to shift her weight so that she could raise her elbow to move her arm so that she could hold his sister's breast in return, holding her "half grapefruit" in her hand, squeezing it, and then catching her stiff nipple between her fingers like she had done the night before.

"Uhnn! Umm-hmm," his sister responded as her thighs clutched together again and her fingers held and pulled on Martha's nipple. Martha's eyes glanced down at her breast and then back up at her half-opened mouth as his sister drew a deep breath, raising her breast against her hand. And then Martha glanced back down at it, and her head followed her glance, her hand sliding over to her other breast as she lowered herself, his sister's hand sliding over to her other breast. And then her mouth found it, found her aroused nipple, her tongue moving immediately on it. Martha snorted and murmured: "suntan lotion," and then her mouth was on it again as his sister snorted softly as she squeezed hers in return and moaned softly.

"Uhmmm! I wanted that," she murmured as her other hand found Martha's and clutched it to her breast. Martha nodded as she sucked on her nipple, sucking it as her mouth pressed down on her breast and opened wider, and her tongue circled her nipple and played with it, making her sigh with a moan as her thighs clutched together as her pelvis rocked up for a second. And then Martha's fingers curled up under her hand, finding her other nipple, playing with it, too, like her tongue was. "Mmmm!" his sister responded as her thighs and pelvis moved again, and her thighs rose up, rocking back and forth a little, rubbing against each other and then opening as her pelvis turned up again. His sister's hand urged Martha's to slide down her stomach. Martha let her guide it down to her hair, and then cupped her fingers around her swelling, as his sister's pelvis rocked up again. Her thighs opened, and her hand on Martha's urged her Martha's fingers to move further. Then her thighs clutched together, holding them, but then opened again as her pelvis rocked up under Martha's hand, whose fingers moved a little on the outside of her lips, pressing and moving them slightly.

"Uhmmm!" his sister sighed again deeply as her hips moved again, and when she urged Martha's hand to move a little further, pressing her fingers to her pussy lips, it did, and her thighs twitched and then opened wider, and Martha's fingers slipped between her lips as they both nodded slightly.

"Oooh! Unnn!" she responded as Martha's fingers found her slippery inner lips, sliding up and down and around them and then between them and finding her hole, her finger tip sliding over and around it, and his sister's hips moved again, and then a finger slipped slowly into it as her hand slid further to let it slide even deeper. His sister sighed with a soft moan, her thighs twitching but staying open as Martha's finger moved in her. She held Martha's hand and then encouraged her index finger also to find her hole, nodding with another soft moan as it did and an aroused, soft "yes" as it slid in and let Martha press both fingers even deeper in her pussy, who remembered to suck and nibble her breast.

Then her fingers didn't need more encouragement, but the reflexive movements of her thighs and pelvis seemed to please Martha, who nodded with an "uhn-hnn" as she sucked. His sister's hand squeezed Martha's again and then returned to her own breast as Martha's fingers moved in her, deep in her, and then her thumb found her aroused clitoris, and then neither of them was showing any restraint; Martha's hand and mouth doing all they could to arouse her as she squeezed and pulled on her own nipple with aroused moans, and when Martha's ring finger slid down and found her asshole, she nodded with a gasped moan and murmured: "oh yes!" Then she began to loose control of herself, her thighs quivering and flapping as her moans changed to whimpers and then were interspersed with short bursts of laughter, continuing until she finally convulsed, and her thighs clutched together on Martha's hand, that stilled as Martha relaxed, her head lying on her arm.

She gasped and sighed a few times, and then slid her hand down and held Martha's, whose fingers had slipped out of her, squeezing it, and Martha's fingers curled up and held hers. And then they were silent for a few moments as her breathing returned to normal.

"God, that was good!" she finally remarked: "... Thank you! It was just so good!!

"It must have been, the way you sounded."

"Hm-mmm, that's why he wouldn't do it to me out here, ... afraid I would be too loud."

"Um-hmm. He was right. I don't think I'm like that - so loud. ... Oh, I hope not! Once we were in his house and thought his family was asleep. ... But it wasn't that good ..."

"That's a pity, ... but maybe better then."

They held each other's hand a little tighter.

"But it was so good, thank you," and she squeezed Martha's hand again and pressed it to her.

"Um-hmm. I wanted it to be, after I started. I didn't think I would do that to anyone else."

They both smirked slightly, and his sister replied: 

"But you sure did it good, thank you. But, of course, you - we - know how."

"Hmm! And I've been practicing, until last week."

"Hm-hm-hmmm! And me, last week. It's a lot better when you know ..., when you have something to think about."

"Very!"

"When did you first do it."

"Hmm? After my period started."

"Oh, mine hadn't yet, but after Mother told me about the 'birds and flowers.' I guess she had to - thought she had to - since I was 'developing.' Of course, she didn't tell me much, but enough for me to get curious."

"Mine didn't, really, just about what happens to girls when their monthlies start. She was real embarrassed, and I was too."

"Even with two older brothers?"

"Maybe for that reason, ... not 'cause of them, because I was her only daughter."

"Yeah, maybe. My mother had already told my sister, of course, probably more when hers started, so she sort of had experience, maybe knew better what she needed to tell. ... Yeah, I guess she did; later telling me that in 'certain situations' boys might not be able to control themselves. I didn't really understand what she meant, but then with my brother I did." 

Martha nodded and replied: 

"Sounded like you both wanted to."

"Um-hmm! I did, ... and loved him for doing it!"

They were silent for a moment after his sister's emphatic remark.

"He's your brother."

"I know, ... but isn't he good?!"

"We agreed about that already."

"I know. ... I just had to say it again."

"Um-hmm, Martha agreed, then murmuring: 

"I could have said that other too, ... did."

"That you loved him?"

"Too much 'making love'."

His sister nodded with a mild smile, but didn't reply. Martha rolled away from her onto her back, taking her hand away as she stretched out on her towel with her hands under her head. His sister rolled towards her onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, and looked at her. Martha's eyes were closed. She looked down and up her body, smiling a little to herself as her eyes perused her again, and then smiled more broadly with a silent snort when she saw Martha's nipples stand up.

After a moment, when they didn't relax, she moved her hand over her and then lightly circled Martha's bellybutton with one finger. It dropped out of contact for a moment as Martha exhaled with a mild snort. She circled it again with her finger, and then with a slightly larger circle, and another, and Martha just lay there as her circles spiralled out over her stomach and then onto her ribcage and down towards her hips, and then further, nearer her breasts and down between the points of her hipbones. 

Martha eyes remained closed, but she couldn't resist a slight smile as her stomach rose with a deeper breath, but his sister's finger and hand were now circling up under Martha's breasts and then down, just inside her hipbone and just brushing the start of her pubic hair, and then around up again, touching the swelling of her breasts this time, and then down, a little down on her side and over her hipbone this time and then coming around through her hair, and Martha's legs twitched involuntarily as her finger continued, over her other hipbone and up her side and up closer to her aroused nipples, gliding up and down over the curves of her breasts, and then down her side again and on the outside of her hipbone and across the start of her thigh, tracing down into the start of the crease of her thigh and up again, and Martha's pelvis rocked up as it passed through her hair again, further down this time, and continued, now brushing below her aroused nipples. Martha started with a soft gasp as her finger touched the goosebumps of both of them and continued, this time even further down, past her hip, coming up over her thigh and down. Martha's hips rocked up, raising her mons against his sister's finger as it passed through her sparse hair. Then it traced up over her other thigh and then up her side and up the side of her breast and right over her stiff nipple and then down between her breasts and up the other one and over its nipple as Martha gasped again. His sister's nipples were just as aroused as she let her fingertip circle it, on the tight goose bumps around it and then let it slide back to the other one and do that before it again resumed its spiral, just above her other nipple this time, before it slid down to her side and deeper and further along it till it started to come up over her thigh again, that twitched open as it slid down in her soft hair, moving very slowly, now having to go deeper between her thighs. Before it left her hair, Martha's other thigh drew up quickly, interrupting its continuing further. 

They both chuckled, and the finger played over the start of Martha's pussy. Martha's eyes were clenched shut, as she smiled slightly and then murmured: 

"Stop teasing."

"You want me to?"

"To stop teasing me."

"Like this?"

Another finger joined the first one, both moving the front of Martha's slit. She nodded with an approving moan. The fingers stopped teasing, extending further and finding their way between her pussy lips, finding her already moist, slippery inner lips. Martha moaned again, her thighs flopping open as her hips rocked up. When the fingers found her opening and slipped into her pussy, she gave an almost relieved sounding moan. Her hands moved from behind her head, one finding her aroused breast, the other sliding around his sister's back, drawing her closer. 

His sister rolled further towards her, resting her head on Martha's shoulder, her thigh drawing up over Martha's, and her fingers doing what a pussy wanted them to do. Martha held her closer, and his sister nestled her face against Martha's neck, kissing. Martha hummed with a nod, turning her face to her, holding her closer, rolling towards her, their cheeks rubbing, and then their heads turning together slightly, and then a bit more, and then so that they could kiss each other's cheek, and then their mouths sliding closer. 

His sister's fingers were fucking in Martha's pussy, and they were exchanging soft moans, both with their eyes closed. Then Martha's other hand left her breast and reached over, embracing his sister, and their mouths found each other. Their tongues met, moving like the fingers in Martha's pussy, and their thighs clenched. A third finger slipped in; Martha nodded once with a moan and sucked harder on the tongue in her mouth. Then his sister's fingers were doing a lot more than their tongues could, making Martha gasping and moan as her thighs twitched, and then she couldn't respond to his sister's kissing, just gasping with sharp moans as her thighs quivered and twitched, and her hips jerked, again and again as she gasped with series of aroused, sharp "Oh! ... Oh-oh! ..." continuing until she finally relaxed with deep sigh, and her hand slid down to his sister's hip and urged her to roll closer, her thighs opening to invite his sister to draw hers up close behind her hand. It slipped away, and her wet hand slid around Martha's waist, drawing them closer. 

Their mouths separated, as they both breathed deeply with sighing moans, first one's and then the other's stomach heaving. After a few, Martha sighed with a soft chuckle and rubbed his sister's ass, then murmuring: 

"I didn't think I would want to do that," and she turned her head slightly and kissed her cheek: "... but I did, ... thank you."

"I did too, ... then. That surprised me, ... but then I wanted to, too, ... real good, like I wanted to do it to you," and she moved her moist fingers: "... for you. Oh, I wanted to do that! ... Curious, of course, but, of course, I knew what it would be like." 

Martha nodded, agreeing:

"Um-hmm, but kind of funny, at first, not feeling it at the same time."

"That didn't occur to me, ... maybe 'cause you had just done it so good." 

"Um-hmm, but I was talking about kissing. Surprised me, that we wanted to, but you just love to use your mouth when you're aroused." 

"I was too, wanted to. Like that, too, ... any way you can. - and it was good. ... I hope you thought so, too."

Martha nodded, and then after a moment chuckled and agreed:

"Yes, you're right: "want to use your mouth," and to taste it." 

She found his sister's hand on her side and drew it up to her mouth and sucked on her fingers, and then snickered and murmured:

"Don't we taste good?"

"Better than he does. No! Well, you know what I mean; I wouldn't want him to taste any different."

Hmm? Something like that; I wouldn't either."

"Um-hmm, did you do that with him, too? Wanting to taste anything that had to do with it?"

"Hmm? If that is what you mean, in the shower? Um-hmm."

"You too?"

"I guess so."

"We did, all over each other. Well, not really all over each other, but ..., you know."

"Um-hmm, we did," and Martha snorted, adding: 

"... and joked about it's being like dogs' marking their territory, that he was marking me so any other males would know that I was his, would know that he wanted to ... do it to me again."

"To ... 'fuck'? Oh, that's good!"

Martha nodded.

"Oh, that word I used, sorry; girls shouldn't talk like that, ... but we did, after he used it. 

"We did too, surprised that I also did," Martha replied.

"This is just great!" his sister replied and held her with her arm and clutched her thigh between hers, and Martha's thighs held hers in response. Then they relaxed and just lay there together for a minute or two.

"I think we deserve a beer," Martha suggested.

"Mmmm, um-hmm, I do too, and she sat up, and Martha sat up. 

They saw the shirts and remembered to put them on before they stood up and went back into the house and then took them off again, hanging them on the chair nearest the door. In the kitchen, they got the two last cans of beer and opened them, smiling at each other as Martha said "skaal" as his sister said: "Here's looking at you; skaal, too," and both drank and smiled at each other again. Then they decided to work on the puzzle some more and did, both concentrating at finding pieces, hardly talking, just remarking about what they were doing:

"Oh, this fits here. ... Here's a piece that looks like that. ... No, this must go somewhere else near that. ... Oh, that fits between these two," and on like that, sipping their beers occasionally.

And then their beers were finished, and that sort of ended the session; both looking at each after they lowered their heads from emptying their cans.

"My parents said that you could drive the car if there was something important."

"Like buying more beer?" Martha asked with a chuckle.

"I don't think that is what she was thinking about."

"But we are."

"Um-hmm, and could have a hamburger or something."

"Want to shower first?"

"Yeah, good idea. We can't go like this, and don't want to get our clothes dirty from the lotion."

They both snickered softly at this and got up and went towards the bathroom, and there, both stepped into the tub, facing each other this time, looking at each other a little questioningly.

"You want to? I've got to go," his sister asked.

"Me too," Martha replied, and then they did, looking at each other and snickering as they started to, and then looking down and moving their hips to make their streams cross as they splashed the other's feet. They both snorted when they had finished, unconsciously forcing out a few more drops as they looked at each other again, and then Martha turned and leaned down to turn on the water.




Martha in America Ch. 10



"Funny, the things you learn to like when you to have sex," his sister remarked softly.

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed as she stood up and the water started to come down.

"But we didn't really do it, ... all over, ... real raunchy."

"Raunchy enough," Martha replied as she made space for her under the shower.

"Not too much," she replied as they started to wash each other: "... just enough."

"If you say so, ... think so," Martha acquiesced.

And then they were just washing each other in silence, almost embracing to wash each other's back, and then snickering a little as they washed each other between their legs and reached around to wash their assholes, and then separating to be able to wash their legs, holding them up in turn for the other to wash. And then they were drying themselves and finally brushing their hair.

On the way back to their rooms, his sister asked:

"Are you going to wear a bra?"

"Since you asked; yes, and you'd better, too."

"Yeah, I guess, in case anyone we know sees us, ... and can notice."

"Um-hmm, ... what else should I wear?"

"Oh? ... Shorts and a top, anything. We could wear our bikinis, like some people do. ... Oh, if you're going to buy beer, maybe something that suggests you're old enough. Can you buy beer?"

"I had no trouble in the City."

"Oh, that's good."

Then they were dressing in their rooms and met in the hall; she in shorts and Martha in a dress, then they closed the house and got in the car. Martha started it, and then tried the gears and pedals and then carefully backed out and turned onto the road, driving slowly at first, but then a little faster, and then they were in the village. Martha found a convenient parking space, since they had agreed that they should walk rather than drive around too much. First, they ate, hamburgers and French fries, and then she showed Martha where she could buy beer and said that she would meet her back at the car.

As she ambled back, taking her time, Martha caught up with her, giving her a triumphant smile as she whispered: "No problem, two six-packs."

"Oooh, good," she replied, glancing at the brown paper bag Martha was carrying, and they walked to the car and were soon driving home.

She took the bag with the beer into the house while Martha locked the car. She was putting the beer in the refrigerator when Martha found her and said:

"Oh, we should have called your mother before we went out."

"Oh, yeah, I'll call her. We were out on the beach, if she says she had already called.

She closed the refrigerator door and went in the living room and called home. Her mother had called, but didn't seem upset and hoped they were getting on well, and she told her that they were - without blushing - and her mother reminded her of what food she had bought for them and that Martha should use the ground meat "today, or at latest tomorrow, for hamburgers or a meatloaf - she made one for your brother." At the mention of her brother, she did start to blush, but managed to finish the conversation and even remembered to tell that Martha had said how much she appreciated that she could be there and sent her greetings and promised to call earlier the next day.

After she hung up, she made a note and put it in the kitchen and then was surprised when Martha came in with nothing on, then looking a little embarrassed as she asked if everything was all right. She told her what her mother had said about the meat and what she had said. Martha nodded, and she started to take off her shorts with a snort and told how she had felt herself blush when her mother mentioned her brother. Martha smiled with a nod and said that she would have, too, and that she was going out to read some more, "from the beginning," and they both smiled, and she hurried back to her room, hopping to take off her panties as she went, and then taking of her blouse and bra in her room and hurrying back to the living room, just remembering to put on his shirt, and grinning at finding the one Martha had used still hanging on the chair. She took it with her out onto the deck and dropped it next to her with a smirk and said:

"You forgot something. You must really be accustomed to going nude."

Martha turned her head up and agreed:

"Yes, I guess so. Thanks," and smiled, as she sat down and stripped off his shirt and then asked: "More lotion? You should, the first couple of days." Martha nodded, and she applied it, more familiarly and thoroughly than in the morning, and then they were both reading again.

When Martha sat up and reoriented her towel to the sun and lay back down on her back, holding the book up at arms' length towards the sun, his sister asked.

"More lotion?" and Martha nodded with a "yes, please," and let her apply it to her front, chuckling when she more than just applied it to her breasts, and again as she rubbed it on around her pubic hair and down between her thighs. She also moved her towel, and then she too was lying on her back and reading.

Engrossed in their books, they turned over a couple of times, but didn't speak, and a hour or so passed before Martha lay down her book, and rolled over on her back again, like his sister already was, again holding her paperback up against the sun with one hand. After a minute or two, Martha lowered her hand and drew her knees up a little and opened them to the sun, lying there with her eyes closed, and then her legs relaxed, her knees dropping lower, the movement catching his sister's eye as she read, and she glanced over at Martha with a slight smile, seeing that her eyes were closed as she lay there all relaxed. Her own thighs unconsciously opened slightly, and she assured herself that Martha's eyes were still closed, and then lowered her book and drew her thighs up and let the sun shine between them, after a moment, turning her heels out so that her knees wouldn't drop lower.

They lay like that for some time, almost dozing, and then she was aware that Martha had moved, and immediately let her legs slide back down as she glanced over and saw that she had sat up and was looking down at her as she started to get up.

"Shirt!" his sister reminded, and she sank back down and slipped it on and then resumed getting up, just holding it closed as she went in the house. 

His sister drew her knees up again, but then lowered them and sat up and reoriented her towel to the sun, and then moved Martha's and lay back down again with her legs outstretched and waited for Martha to return.

"Would you like a beer?" Martha called. She rolled onto her side and saw her standing in the door with her shirt open.

"Do we deserve one?" she asked back with a snort and then grinned.

"I don't know. I hadn't thought of that."

"Have we been good?"

"Were we supposed to be?"

She sat up and grinned at her as she replied:

"Do you know the joke about the girl who when she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was better?"

Martha nodded with a chuckle and smile and answered:

"Yes, a boy at our school who was an AFS student here told it to us. Sounds like y... us."

"Um-hmm. We've been being very, very good. I think we deserve one."

Martha nodded with a grin and disappeared into the house and came back with two cans, glancing out at the beach and just holding the bottom of her shirt together as she joined her and sat back down, handing the cans to her and slipping her shirt off again. She handed one of the cans back to her, and they opened them and skaaled each other, snickering slightly as they looked at each other again.

Martha snickered again with a snort and remarked:

"But he told me only the 'very, very good ones' did it to him."

They both laughed and had a sip of their beers, and she replied:

"I told you, we've been being 'very, very good.'"

They both laughed again and Martha agreed with a smile:

"To each other, too."

"Um-hmm, ... 'very, very', ... thank you."

"Um-hmm, you too."

They smiled at each other and then faced the sun again sitting in silence, both of them sipping their beers occasionally but not speaking.

After a while, Martha took a deeper breath, and then took a sip of beer, and exhaled and breathed in again and with a mild snort said:

"Yes, 'very, very good'," ... thank you," as she looked towards the western horizon:

":.. I guess I was still having ... difficulty admitting that I really like it, ... but I do, ... really like it. ... Hmm! ... Why not? ... It's just good."

She glanced over at his sister with a smile, who nodded as she returned her smile.

"Just good," Martha repeated, then adding: 

"... why not? He was right, we would like it," and she glanced at her again.

"Um-hmm, he was. ... We ought to tell him; he would like it, ... I think."

"Maybe, ... yes, maybe he wanted us to, ... at least, it would have occurred to him, having talked with both of us about it."

"Um-hmm. ... At least, he won't mind. ... Oh, he'll like it, ... that we like it, confirming that we are 'very, very' ones."

Martha nodded with a wry grin and replied:

"I guess we are. At first, I didn't think I want to - all the way - but then I was thinking that I didn't want to be just 'very, very'; I wanted to be the nicest and best and worst one, ... and told him that afterwards."

"Hm-hmm! And I bet you were!"

"He didn't say I wasn't."

"I bet he liked that, that you told him."

Martha nodded with snort and agreed: 

"Yes, he liked that, that I told him, and I liked it too, talking about it, and we joked about my learning that I could do something else with my mouth."

They both laughed and then had a good drink from their cans and snickered.

"And can't we!" his sister responded and then added:

"If he were here, we could show him."

"Hmm? I don't know? 'Could,' don't know if we should, but he is not here."

"Oh, ... maybe he could pick us up, ... on the weekend? Come out on Saturday, ... with the train. Oh, then he could come out Friday evening. ... He would want to."

Martha snorted and smiled at her again and replied:

"You really want to, ... want him to."

"Why not, if it could work out?"

Then they were both silent, sipping at their beers, and then emptying them.

"Why not?" Martha murmured, and his sister nodded with a little smile.

"I want to," Martha murmured again and reached out and stroked her thigh without turning to look at her as she added softly:

"Like this morning, ... in bed."

His sister saw that Martha's nipples were all stiff as she held her hand on her thigh - and hers were, too - and agreed softly:

"I do too."

"No, just me. I really want to, and then you can. ... I want that."

"Um-hmm, if you want," his sister replied in a soft, aroused voice and lay back, and Martha leaned over and extended her legs as she laid her head on her thigh, slipping her hand under the small of her back as her other hand found her breast. His sister sighed and drew up her other thigh as Martha's fingers found her aroused nipple for a moment, and then her hand slid down her side to her hip and urged her to roll towards her. Martha's head slid up between her thighs as his sister did with a sigh, and then a deeper one with a moan, as Martha's mouth found her pussy.

Then she just gave herself up to what Martha was doing: clutching her hips to her face as her tongue aroused her, and soon her fingers, too, as his sister gasped and moaned, and the movement of her pelvis encouraged Martha. 

"Unnn! That's good!" his sister murmured: "... you know how good that is," and Martha nodded.

"Um-hmm," she agreed: "... we know, ... uhn-unnn! ... just how good that feels, ... what you're doing ... ummm! ... what your tongue is doing. And I know how good that is, too, ... oooh! ... like that! Your tongue knowing what feels good ... for it, ... unnn! ... and for me! ... Oooh, yes! Do that ... with your finger. ... Why do we like that? ... And he does, too." ... Oooh, yes! ... Like that ... with your tongue, ... like his cock, ... oooh! Unnn! ... Unnnn! ... there too! ... Ummm-uhnnnn! ... Un-un-un! ... Ooh! ... Ooh-ooh! Unnn! ... Ooh! Ah! Ha-ha! ... Ooh-ooh-un-unnn! Oh-ha! Ha-ha! Un-un-un-unnn! Oh-ha! Ooooh!! Yes!! Un-un-un-un! Ooh! Ha-ha-unnn! Oh-ha! Unnn-un-un-un! Unn-un-un-un-un!!"

With a final gasp, she was silent, her stomach just heaving.

Finally she extended her leg and reached down and stroked Martha's wet cheek, sliding her fingers down to find her mouth, stroking over her lips, as she whispered:

"Oooh, that was good! Thank you!

"Um-hmm, it must have been, just like I wanted it to be. I really did want to, and not just for you. I wanted to do it so you'd know that I really do, really like it. It is so good, ... like you were saying: my tongue knowing what would feel so good. He - his - doesn't know that."

"But ours do."

"And how! ... But his does it just as good."

"Um-hmm! ... Hm-hmm! Thank goodness!"

Martha sat up and smirked, starting to lie down next to her, as his sister replied:

"But only those of us who know that, and he does do it just as good, if you don't mind?"

"Hm-hmm, I think so too. ... Aren't we lucky!?"

Martha nodded as they embraced with their arms under each other's head, hugging each other a little close, and then after an exchange of nods, kissing, as good as they could for a few moments with their heads down parallel, their noses overlapping.

When they stopped, looking in each other's eyes, Martha murmured:

"But he's got something we haven't."

"Um-hmm, ... that occurred to me when I mentioned it, ... when you were doing it."

"Do you really think he could come out and get us, like you suggested?"

"Why not? ... Hm-hmm! And he wouldn't just 'get us', he would 'have us'." 

Martha snickered as she continued: 

"He couldn't have anything better to do on the weekend."

"Hm-hmm! That is true."

"Shall I call him this evening?"

"I don't know. What had ..., what were your parents planning?"

"Oh, ... yeah, I think they said that they - or one of them? - no both - for the cars - would come out. I'm not sure."

"Then your idea of his coming out on the train would be convenient, ... unless your parents were wanting to spend the weekend out here again."

"I hope not."

"Me too, but maybe we should wait till you call your mother tomorrow, ... and suggest it, ... maybe after asking what they had planned."

"Um-hmm, ... if she doesn't know yet, then they haven't anything planned, and maybe would like the suggestion, ... and we're pretty sure that he would."

"Um-hmm. Hm-hmm! If he knew what we have in mind, ... his, ... what he has ..."

They both chuckled, they stomachs moving on each other, and they held each other closer again, their knees finding their way past each other, and kissed again. 

"You want me to, too? I want to," his sister murmured.

"After a shower?"

"Um-hmmm!"

They let go of each other and sat up, finding their shirts and quickly going into the house and taking them off again on the way to the bathroom, snickering as they hung them on the top corner of the door, and got into the tub, looking at each other, and then they both raised their eyebrows questioningly. His sister said softly:

"Yeah, I want to, ... want you to: 'all over'." 

When Martha nodded slightly, she dropped to her knees, waiting expectantly, staring at Martha's pussy, snorting as she saw her stream start and splash on her thighs. She glanced up at Martha and then back at her stream and leaned forward, holding her thighs, and put her face in it and then turned her mouth up to catch it, moving closer to its source as it started to die down, finally kissing Martha's hair, who snorted and murmured:

"You're just as raunchy as I am," and sank down as his sister stood up, looking down at her with a nod and smile, and then closed her eyes for a moment as she spread her knees slightly, and then watched Martha do what she had done, smiling slightly with a snort, that moved her stream for a moment. And then Martha was kissing her, holding her hips, and then pressing down on them as she stood up again, snorting, herself, as she looked at her with a wry smile, and then turned and started adjusting the water as she snorted again and asked:

"Why do we want to do that, ... like to do that?"



Martha in America Ch. 11



They let go of each other and sat up, finding their shirts and quickly going into the house and taking them off again on the way to the bathroom, snickering as they hung them on the top corner of the door, and got into the tub, looking at each other, and then they both raised their eyebrows questioningly. His sister said softly:

"Yeah, I want to, ... want you to: 'all over'." 

When Martha nodded slightly, she dropped to her knees, waiting expectantly, staring at Martha's pussy, snorting as she saw her stream start and splash on her thighs. She glanced up at Martha and then back at her stream and leaned forward, holding her thighs, and put her face in it and then turned her mouth up to catch it, moving closer to its source as it started to die down, finally kissing Martha's hair, who snorted and murmured:

"You're just as raunchy as I am," and sank down as his sister stood up, looking down at her with a nod and smile, and then closed her eyes for a moment as she spread her knees slightly, and then watched Martha do what she had done, smiling slightly with a snort, that moved her stream for a moment. And then Martha was kissing her, holding her hips, and then pressing down on them as she stood up again, snorting, herself, as she looked at her with a wry smile, and then turned and started adjusting the water as she snorted again and asked:

"Why do we want to do that, ... like to do that?"

"I don't know, but we do," she replied as she closed the shower curtain. 

Martha nodded and turned on the shower. And then were quickly washing each other again, snickering as they washed each other's pussy - more than just washing them. And then they were drying themselves, looking at each other, in each other's eyes, and at each other's aroused breasts, smiling slightly, and then going to his bedroom without brushing their hair.

His sister let Martha precede her to the bed, watching her lie down and turn to her, waiting. They smiled at each other, and then she knelt down at the side of the bed and leaned over and found Martha's breast with her mouth, sucking and licking her aroused nipple as she held her other breast, and Martha moved closer, holding her head to her with a sigh and murmured:

"You can't do that to him. Well, ... it's a lot better, doing it to you."

She nodded and then released her breast and replied as she moved towards Martha's face: 

"And to you," and then they kissed, now better than before on the deck as she squeezed Martha's breast, and Martha's hand found hers as their tongues eagerly moved on each other. Martha's other hand found his sister's hand on her breast, holding it for a moment, and then sliding it down to her pussy, and she nodded as her fingers quickly slipped down between Martha's thighs, that opened as her hips rolled up, letting her fingers slip between her lips and arouse her.

"Un-unnn!" Martha responded as her pelvis rocked up again as his sister sucked and caressed her tongue. Martha's hand encouraged hers, and her other hand slid down from her breast and found her pussy, her finger sliding under the curve of her pussy and then holding it and pressing up, urging her to rise. She nodded slightly and did, their mouths separating as she followed the urging of the hand on her pussy, moving down over Martha, letting her hand guide her hips up towards Martha's head as hers moved down Martha's body as she raised a knee onto the bed and let Martha help support her as she drew her other one up, and Martha guided her hips over her head, her leg moving over her as her head moved down towards Martha's now spread thighs, and her hand left her pussy as her mouth found Martha's hair. Her hand slid around Martha's hip as she rolled over her with her head on her thigh as her hand urged Martha to roll towards her, and she did, as each of them drew her thigh up under the other's head, raising her other thigh, as they drew each other's hips to them and buried their faces deep between the other's thighs.

It was like before, in the morning, but even more direct this time as their fingers found their assholes and their tongues, their clitorises. But after this first intensive impulse, their tongues explored further, and when they both explored past the other's opening, they both curled their hips up, and their tongues explored further, immediately replacing their fingers and moving on each other as they moaned and responded, and relaxed and let each other probe and then tightened with the same reflex, relaxing again as their tongues wanted to probe again, and then their hips rocked back, and their tongues slid back and found their other hole as their fingers returned to probe, and their tongues and fingers were probing, now deeper.

They let them, and then like in the morning, their tongues were moving, finding a common rhythm. Both of them chuckled slightly with a nod as they continued, not upsetting the pattern they had found, their tongues now moving in perfect unison, continuing on and on as they sighed and moaned softly, one and the other varying the pattern slightly, but then returning to it, and their fingers were also moving gently in unison, and their moans became more aroused, but they still continued, not letting their arousal upset the controlled rhythm that their tongues were following. 

Their thighs began to quiver, and their moans became sharper, but they still continued, even as they started to come, their faces all wet from each other as they continued, spurting with desperate sounding moans, that then subsided for a moment, but then resumed, sounding even more desperate as their thighs twitched and quivered as they continued and spurted again, their controlled pattern now lost as they buried their noses in each other's wet cunt and sucked and nibbled and licked each other's aroused clitoris with whimpering moans and quick gasps as their bodies jerked and their thighs clutched and quivered on each other's head.

Finally, they relaxed, their bodies limp, just extending their upper thighs as they lay gasping with long moans. Slowly their breathing returned to normal, but they still lay there in silence for a minute two longer.

Martha slid her hand up from her hip and found her breast, and she did the same, their nipples all soft in each other's palm. Then Martha removed her hand from her and found hers and drew it up to her face, and then murmured:

"I want to," and with her eyes closed drew his sister's finger to her mouth.

"You do?!" she asked softly, and Martha nodded.

"Did you do it with him?" she asked again, and Martha nodded again and slipped her finger into her mouth.

"Oh, ..." and then she took Martha's hand and drew it towards her, her eyes still closed as she drew towards her mouth and put her finger in it, and then murmuring again:

"Oh, ... you did, ... we did. We are raunchy."

And then she put Martha's hand back on her breast and found Martha's again with hers. For a moment they fondled each other without arousing their nipples, and then his sister murmured:

"God, that was good! God, we do that good!!" Martha nodded and squeezed her breast as she continued:

"I was just wanting to do it to you, ... like you did, but thank you, that you did. It was just so good!"

Martha nodded again and replied:

"I wanted to, again. Before was just for you, ... like I said, ... Hm-mmm! ... an extra one, for you, ... thank you! But I wanted to, ... to do it again. ... We both know how good that is, too."

"It sure was! Even better than this morning. We really know how to do it good, together. That's wonderful, knowing, feeling exactly what it was like, what I was doing, ... just too good that way to stop."

Martha nodded and agreed:

"Um-hmm, I didn't want to either, wanted us to just keep on like that, it was so good, together, like that."

"He can't do that, ... it can't be like that with him. And we sure did! I didn't think I would have come like that, ... just doing that, but it was so arousing, trying to control it, trying not to give in to the urge to just try to make you come, thinking you were wanting to as much as I was, but then we did, and so good!"

"Um-hmm, ... just like that, ... that's the way I was feeling, too, a little afraid that you would ... give in to the urge. But you didn't, ... we didn't."

His sister nodded in response, and Martha continued after a moment:

"Yes, ... raunchy. We don't have to do that again, ... but I just wanted to. ... Funny? ... But if I did, ...?"

"Maybe ... we'll want to again?"

"Something like that ..."

"Hm-hmm! ... What did our mothers say?"

They both snickered and turned their faces down and looked at each other, smirking. Then they sat up, feeling how wet the bed was, and smirking again as his sister asked:

"Do you think he'll be able to tell that we've been here, ... smell us?"

"I don't know, at least, if he can, I hope no one else can."

They smirked again, and then Martha said:

"I think we deserve another beer now. We haven't just been good, we've been better ..."

" 'Cause we've been so bad, ... so good and bad."

"Yeah, as you say, real good and bad, ... and that much better. Oh, it was better!"

"It sure was! Who wants to be just good, when she knows how to be better?"

By now they had gotten up, and grinned at each other as they went to the kitchen, silently washing their hands together. They dried their hands and got two beers from the refrigerator and went to the living room.

"Books or puzzle?" his sister asked.

"Puzzle. I think I've had enough sun," and she snickered and added:

"And Marjorie just did it ... too, so I don't think she'll mind if I let her cool off."

They both snickered and sat down at the table, opening their beers and skaaling each other, and then they returned to working on the puzzle. By now, it was beginning to take shape: the edges completed with some areas filled in, and groups of joined pieces waiting for a piece or two to connect them to the edge or another group. They made good progress, and by the time they had finished their beers, the picture was well filled in. 

They leaned back on their chairs, looking at each other, taking in each other's nakedness with their eyes, smiling a little as they both snorted slightly, and then again as they saw each other's nipples stand out.

"What should I make for supper," Martha asked.

"Something to use the ground meat, like Mother said. Can you really make meatloaf?"

"I did for your brother, using your mother's 'Joy of Cooking'. We thought it was pretty good."

"Oh, that would be nice, and we could have the rest tomorrow, and if there is still some left over, the next day."

"I'll try, then."

They smiled and got up and went to the kitchen. His sister helped Martha find the things she need, and she was pleased to find the package of ground meat was the same amount that she had used the week before. She peeled an onion and told her that she could start mixing the bread crumbs and eggs with the meat, while she chopped the onion, then adding it to bowl, telling her to stop mixing, and added salt and pepper from the pepper mill.

"More," his sister suggested:

"... I like it spicy. Oh, and Mother adds some spice."

"Oh, yes, that was in the recipe, too. Where are they?"

"In the cupboard over the stove. Oh, shouldn't we have been heating up the oven?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot that."

Martha turned the oven on and then looked at the spices:

"Allspice? Or oregano? I think it was allspice. That sounds like you can use it on anything."

"Or everything. Try it, ... and the oregano, too. I like it. Maybe it will be a little different, but that will be good, too."

"Um-hmm, me too - like oregano. I don't think we ever use it in Norway."

She added the spices, and his sister dug her hands back into the bowl while Martha put away the spices and took the baking dish and started to grease it.

"Is this good enough," his sister asked, starting to scrape the sticky mass off her hands.

"Um-hmm, looks good, put it in the form, and try to avoid bubbles, and press it down. Oh, you've probably seen your mother do it."

His sister nodded and followed Martha's instructions and then glanced at her.

"Um-hmm, that looks right. Oh, in the book, it said you could cover it with bacon strips. Do we have any?"

They both looked in the refrigerator and did find a packet of bacon, pleased with their success, and as Martha opened it and put strips on the meatloaf, she remarked:

"That was nice of Mother - you know, Jews and pork - but she knows I like it for breakfast." "She tries to think kosher, but we really aren't. That's a nuisance. You've got to have two sets of everything - if you're strictly orthodox - to avoid using the same stuff - pots and pans and plates - for meat and fish. At least, I think it's for meat and fish. Oh, I guess we have enough - yeah, two sets of china - But Dad's not so keen about it, and likes ham. His family isn't orthodox at all."

Martha just nodded with a smile and replied:

"A really orthodox family probably wouldn't have an au pair from Norway, a Christian."

"I guess not. ... Does you family go to church? You know we don't go to Temple every week.

"We don't go every week, but more often than most families in Norway, maybe 'cause my mother's father was a pastor ... a minister. Hmm! In Norway, 'ministers' are in the government, in the cabinet, you know, like the Secretaries in Washington: ... of State, of Defence, of ... Justice."

His sister nodded as Martha continued:

"We're going to have to wait till the oven gets hot. Oh, ...hmm! ... two things. ... But we - Mother - always says ... grace before meals, and the first evening with your brother, no ... the next day, Monday, when I had made dinner for us, I suddenly had the urge to do so. It was sort of formal, sitting in the dining room, and with candles, and he held my chair - that was nice - and I just felt like it belonged, like at home."

"And did you? Or what happened?"

"Oh, I told him, and he thought it nice that I felt that way, and ... well, I translated the little children's grace I know, and he thought it was nice that I had. I like that he had wanted me to. ... That was real nice. I really liked him for that. Oh, I already liked him ...Hm-mmm! ... having slept together - and so good - but that was different, liking him for something else."

They both snorted and nodded with a smile.

"I like that, that ... you really like him. ... And the other? You said: 'two things'?"

Martha snorted and chuckled with a grin and replied:

"That was more about the other way of liking him. We were waiting for the meatloaf to bake, in my bed," and she snickered:

"... and ... well, ... I was going to do it to him, ... and maybe him to me, but I had started, and wanted it to take a long time and wasn't hurrying, and then we just sort of fell asleep."

"Like that?! ... You must have done it whole lot, if that could happen!"

"Um-hmm, I guess so, but we decided that it was nice that we ... that neither of us felt like we had to, that it was just nice to be together, that we could be like that and not have to. Of course, we did later."

"Hmmm! I can imagine! But ... yeah, ... I guess that sort of ... demonstrated that you like each other not just for ..."

"Um-hmm, ... 'not just for ... '."

"Yeah. ... No, ... you should really like him, ... but ... that can help make you like him, ... if he is that good to you."

" 'Making love'?" Martha suggested.

"Yeah, we talked about that. You, too? The expression says it."

"Um-hmm, ... pretty well. And you're right, I guess for you too, ... maybe not good, but not bad, if you think like that."

"Hmm, thanks, I think so. I told him I that it was especially nice that my first time wasn't with someone who just disappeared from my life."

Martha nodded and suggested:

"Or you might want to forget, regretting that it happened like it might have."

"Hadn't thought of that, but you're right, if were like that. It wasn't!"

She smiled, and Martha smiled with a nod, then asking: 

"When will the oven be hot?"

"Oh, I think a light goes on, ... or goes off? Yeah, when it's reached the temperature, the light goes off when the thermostat turns it off. Set the timer for ten minutes, and we can check Here, I'll do it."

She did, and they returned to the puzzle.

When it rang, they went back to the kitchen, and the light was off, and Martha put the meatloaf in the over and reset the timer, and then suggested that they should prepare the rest of the meal, finding potatoes and a cucumber, and they agreed that they didn't need a green vegetable if Martha made a cucumber salad. When his sister wanted to peel the potatoes, Martha suggested that they could eat them with the peels, since they were smooth young potatoes, that she just needed to clean them under the tap with the brush. She did so, while Martha sliced the cucumber in a bowl and added a little oil and vinegar and sugar and salt and pepper, and then found dill among the herbs and added that and stirred up the salad, tasting it, and then adding more salt as his sister asked how long the potatoes needed, that she had put in a pan with water.

"I don't know. Add salt to the water. Let's wait and started them later."

They went back to the puzzle for a while, and then Martha said that she would put the potatoes on, and went and did so. When she returned, they continued to work on the puzzle and almost finished it when the timer rang.

His sister set the table while Martha drained the potatoes and got the meatloaf and brought them to the table, and they both went back to the kitchen.

"Beer?" she asked Martha, and when she nodded, got two cans from the refrigerator as Martha took the salad to the table, calling back:

"And glasses," so she got two and joined Martha.

"Looks good, ... and smells good," she remarked as they sat down and opened and poured their beers.

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed with a pleased smile and started to cut into the meatloaf while she helped herself to potatoes and salad. Martha served her a slice of the meatloaf and then served herself. They said skaal to each other and ate, both agreeing that the meatloaf had turned out well, and his sister liked Martha's cucumber salad, saying it was different from anything her mother made, and liked the potatoes in their skin, remarking that at home they were always peeled. They had a second helping and talked about what they wanted to do the next day, deciding that they should go to the beach - "tomorrow" - smirking a little at each other. His sister then smirked again and asked:

"And if we meet some boys? What will we do then?"

"You think we will? I don't know. ... Hmm?! ... That depends on them."

"Oh, just the two of us together, some will talk to us. ... But maybe someone I know."

"Anyone ... special?"

"Oh, no, just someone who recognizes me, ... from school or the City."

"We'll just have to wait and see," Martha replied and took another bite.

"Um-hmm," she agreed, and did so, herself, and then they were soon finished.

They cleaned up the kitchen and went back to the puzzle with what was left of their beers and soon completed it - and finished their beers.

The sun was starting to set, and they decided to go out on the deck, having to go back and get their shirts in the bathroom. As they put them on, Martha suggested that they could go down on the beach. She agreed, and Martha said: 

"Then we'd better put something on underneath." She nodded in agreement, and they went to their rooms, returning immediately with their bikini bottoms. Then they went out on the deck and down onto the beach, where there were still quite a few people strolling along at the water's edge.

They joined them, walking towards the setting sun. Once, Martha waded out in the water and then returned, remarking that she had thought the water would be warmer and telling that in Norway, even though it is so far north, the water seemed less cold, from the Gulf Stream, she explained, and then they just walked along in silence.




Martha in America Ch. 11



His sister was observing the other people, mostly couples and families, but there were occasionally single men, younger and older ones, who noticed the two of them. After one had stared at them more than the others had, when they had passed him, Martha did up another button of her shirt, and his sister snickered softly and remarked:

"Um-hmm, mine did, too."

Martha glanced over at her with a nod and smile, and then they walked on again in silence.

It was beginning to get darker as the sun disappeared, and they turned and started back. After a while, his sister snickered and told Martha about her having to go to the bathroom on the beach with her brother, and Martha chuckled at the story, that she ended with:

"But I don't have to now. And it was much later, all dark," 

Martha nodded again and then told her about the first boy she had slept with and that after they had, they had done it together. When his sister looked at her questioningly, Martha snorted and added:

"Not like that, like with you ... and your brother." 

She nodded in response, and then they walked on again in silence, looking at the first stars, and then were back at the house, looking back at the beach and the almost dark sky from the deck for a minute, and then went into the dark house.

"Are there any candles?" Martha asked. 

"Yeah, that's a good idea," she replied and found a couple in the dark, and then searched for matches in a kitchen drawer and finally lit them, and they smiled at each other in the candle light and took them to the living room.

"What do you want to do now?" she asked Martha.

"I don't know."

"Watch TV?"

"Sort of ruins the candlelight."

"Um-hmm. ... What did you do with him ... when you weren't ...?"

"Hm-mmm! ... I guess we usually were, ... no, we talked about my family, ... my brother, ... Let's sit down."

They did, again on the towel on the sofa as Martha continued:

"Oh, once we played backgammon. ... Hm-mmm! ... But that didn't last long. We started to play that you had to take something off if the other could remove one of your pieces."

They both snickered, and his sister replied:

"I bet not. ... But we could play it here, too, if you want to? ... Not that way."

"If you want to."

His sister got the board, and Martha moved the candles to the table with the puzzle, and they set the board up on top of the puzzle. After they had started to play, his sister looked up and asked:

"You want another beer?"

"I wasn't going to suggest it, but if you do, yes, I would like one."

"I'll get them." 

His sister did, and they opened them and drank with a skaal, and continued to play. After three games, two of which his sister won, they finished their beers, looking at each other.

"I've got to go," his sister said, and got up as Martha nodded and said she would put away the board. She went off, turning on the light in the bathroom and using the toilet, and then washing herself and brushing her teeth. By the time she was finished, Martha had joined her and was using the toilet. She left the bathroom and went to his room, seeing that Martha had brought the candles in there. She smiled to herself as she pulled his shirt up and took it off and hung it and her bikini bottom on the back of the chair, and then got into bed, pulling the covers up.

Martha returned with her bikini bottom in her hand as she unbuttoned her shirt, smiling at her, and then hung her things on the chair, too. She blew out the candles and got in bed with her, lying facing her, with their hands up between them.

Martha chuckled with a snort.

"What was that for?" his sister asked.

"I just thought about something we joked about last week, that we were trying to make up for all the times I hadn't - hadn't been able to last year."

"Hm-hmm! And did you? How many times would that have been?"

"Oh, I said I wanted to once a week - which certainly never happened at home - and then we agreed that once a fortnight was more realistic - still more than at home. But I said that then I would want to do it at least twice, so that was still about the same thing ..."

"And did you?"

"Of course not. -- Hm-mmm! - But for a couple of days, we tried, ... and I think the second morning I told him that we had done the first month already - doing it that way, too. But, of course, we couldn't make up for nine months - 36 weeks - in one week."

"Oooh, I guess not! Five times a day! No, just evenings and nights. ... Hm-mmm! ... He said - once when I asked him - that they had done it six times - counting both ways - ... but then they decided not to do it the next day, ... though they could have - it would have been possible ... to be together - but they agreed that it might not be good, trying to repeat that."

"Um-hmm, just sort of doing because they could, and preferring to avoid that ... and what it might suggest about their relationship, ... yes, like our thinking it nice that time when I fell asleep."

"Um-hmm. ... Yes, making love makes you love each other, but maybe only for a little while, ... till it wears off, ... the arousal. ... You don't want to find out that that was the only thing. ... I mean, ... you want to show that that isn't everything ... - the only thing you can do together."

"Um-hmm, something like that."

"Hm-mmm! I think we once did it that many times, ... but we had all day and night."

"Um-hmm. I don't think we did. Funny, on Saturday, when probably we could have, we didn't do it in the morning, went out, but in the evening, we sort of made up for that, but, I don't think that many times, ... but all we wanted. By then, we had forgotten about the joke. Hm-mmm! But now I was remembering it and thinking that maybe with your help ... the original goal could be achieved. I think we're a month further on, already."

They both snickered, and then his sister replied:

"Oh, that would be good, a real family effort to let their au pair enjoy ... - Hmm! - 'all the comforts of home'!"

They both laughed, holding hands.

"Oh, more than at home!" Martha responded, and they snickered, and then snickered again after she added:

"More, and more different, ... and more better."

"For me, it's going to be the other way, I guess. I'm sort of storing them up, ... but I don't know if they keep very well. ... I don't think they do."

"I don't either. Sorry. ... But they will give you something to think about ... at night."

"Hm-mmm! Oh, yeah! I know that already. Yeah, that helps."

"Um-hmm, me, too, last winter, ... and I didn't know what was really good."

"Pity. I think I do."

"Me too, now."

They let go of each other's hand, and their arms slipped over the other's waist, and they were silent, just lying comfortably together for a minute or two, and then his sister said softly:

"We don't have to, like with you and him."

"Hm-umm, I like that."

"With you and me."

"Um-hmm."

They drew each other a little closer, and kissed each other lightly, and then his sister rolled over and moved back closer to Martha, who found her breast with her hand as she murmured "goodnight." 

"You too, goodnight. It was a wonderful day, thank you."

"It was, thank you, too," and Martha held her breast, and she held the back of Martha's hand, and then they fell asleep.

When Martha woke up in the early morning light, they were lying like they had been while they were talking before they went to sleep, except that their thighs were comfortably overlapped. She opened her eyes, and then they closed again, and she just lay there.

Then his sister's eyes opened, and then also closed again as she murmured a soft "um-hmm". "Um-hmm," Martha responded just as softly.

"Hi, good morning," his sister said softly and opened her eyes again, and Martha did, too, as she replied:

"Um-hmm, good morning. Sleep well?"

"Um-hmm, real good, thank you. You, too?

"Um-hmm, I must have; I don't remember how we got back like this."

"Me neither. We must have. I like that. ... Oh, I think I was holding your breast, but maybe it was a dream. It was just nice and familiar.

"Um-hmm, maybe you did. Yes, I think I must have turned over, ... and then - now - recall that I was liking the way it was, whose ever warmth and hand I felt."

"His?"

"I'm not sure, I just recall that it felt ...'nice and familiar,' like you said."

"Hmm! I like that, ... nice, 'just nice and familiar', ... for both of us, ... family; his or my hand, ... or ... for me, maybe his ...?"

"Hm-mmm! Being your own sister."

"Um-hmm. ... Hm-mmm! And you, being sort of mine!"

"Um-hmm."

"Do you think sisters do it?"

"Um-mmm! Why not, if brothers and sisters do?"

"Mmmmm? ... Of course, why not? We talked about that; easier then brothers doing it."

"I hope so, having two."

"I didn't mean to suggest that."

"I know. ... But the sisters - one of them at least - would have to know more about it. I doubt they would discover it by themselves."

"Yeah, probably not. ... Oh, no! Or there would be a lot more of it! I mean, if they ..., we could discover it by ourselves, all of us would do it!"

"Well, not you and I, not having sisters."

"Just brothers, and trying to find out. Gee! I am lucky!"

"Um-hmm. ... Hm-hmm! Maybe I should have tried it with my older brother?"

"Maybe, but it's too late now. ... Well, I guess you could, ... but ... well, ... I guess you don't need to now."

"Hm-umm! ... Hmm? ... But I have thought about showing my younger one what I have learned."

"Oooh! Really? We know he would like it, but I bet he would be surprised."

"I bet he would be, too."

"Or maybe not."

"That I wanted to do it to him?"

"Oh, of course! I was thinking about his maybe already knowing about it."

"I hope he does."

"Me too. ... Hmm! ... Aren't we sweet, hoping your brother knows what we like?"

"Um-hmm, I hope he does."

"Me too. ... You could tell him, ... if ... - Hm-mmm! - you can't show him."

Martha snorted with a snicker and slipped her hand past his sister's and rubbed the backs of her fingers between her breasts as she replied:

"You really want me to!"

"I guess I do, ... for him and for them. It's just so good."

"Um-hmm."

They looked in each other's eyes, and his sister rubbed Martha the same way.

"You want me to?" his sister asked softly: "... I want to, ... for me. I just love to do it, just love the way you taste," and her thighs held Martha's tighter, and hers responded as she replied:

"If you want to ... - Mmm! - ... if you do it, I know I will ... want you to, ... and want to, too, ... as much as you do ...," and the backs of Martha's fingers slid down and rubbed her stiff nipple.

Mmmm! Oooh, that's a lot!"

Martha nodded with wide eyes, and she smiled back as she rubbed Martha's nipple in return and nodded in response, and then she began to turn around, sliding her head down over Martha under the covers. She rolled on her back and drew her leg up and flung the covers back. Then, as his sister got her legs around, Martha slid herself down the bed, and she was lying half on her, her mouth nuzzling in Martha's hair, and then moving herself a little lower on Martha, her mouth pressed down between Martha's extended thighs, and Martha drew them up and opened them as she rolled towards her, onto her side again, letting his sister's face slip between them, sighing as her mouth kissed her, rolling her hips up to press her pussy lips to her mouth. Then Martha sighed more deeply as her kiss became more intense, and then murmured:

"Do I taste as good as the way you love?"

"Um-hmmmm!" she responded with a nod as her tongue explored, her hips still flat on the bed next to Martha's head as she continued.

"That good?"

"Um-hmmm!"

"I love that, that you do, ... - Oooh-mmm! - and I love the way you do it!"

"Um-hmm! Me too," his sister replied with her mouth on her.

"I was right, ... I want to, too, ... to taste you're pretty pussy."

"Um-hmm," she responded and rolled her hip up and raised her thigh and let Martha draw herself closer as she drew her other thigh up under her head, and then Martha's mouth found her "pretty pussy."

For a long time, they seemed to be satisfied with just tasting each other, just exchanging appreciative sounding "um-hmm's," and then holding each other's breast, but then it seemed that they couldn't resist trying to arouse each other, exchanging even more appreciative sounding moans, and then their hands slid down over each other's hip, and they both nodded, and then their fingers were sliding down and finding the other's asshole, and then they seemed to lose all restraint as their thighs began to twitch, and their moans and gasps became more intense as their hips jerked, and then continued, again and again, and then they finally relaxed, freeing each other's head from the weight of their thighs as they lay there, still gasping, but then with longer, deep breaths, exhaling with long, satisfied sounding moans.

Martha's hand slid down his sister's back and over her shoulder and then up her neck and found her moist cheek. She turned her head up and just kissed her finger tips, and then found Martha's breast with her hand, holding it in the palm of her hand and then murmuring:

"I was really only thinking about how much I wanted to do it, to taste you, ... but, of course, then I wanted something else, especially when you started - thank you. ... Hm-mmm! I guess I knew that would happen, ... but at first, I was really only wanting to have a tasty good morning kiss."

Hm-mmm! ... Um-hmm, and I was enjoying it, too, ... letting you have it, ... or giving it to you, ... and wanting yours - the other way. Yes, just a nice good morning kiss. But - you're right - it became something better, ... real good, thank you, too."

Um-hmm, ... what a nice way to start the day! Making each other feel so good. That's just got to be good!" and his sister squeezed Martha's breast, and she stroked her cheek in response as she agreed:

"Um-hmm," and then snickered and asked:

"I wonder if we both taste the same?"

Hm-mmm! Me too. ... Do men? ... We should ask him, ... about us, ... of course!"

"Hmm! ... Hm-mmm! ... I can see that, his tasting us both and giving an opinion!"

"Yeah, like that! You're as bad as me, ... no, I mean, ... have the same idea. I was - after I said that - envisioning him ... - I guess, with us lying next to each other - 'tasting' one and then the other of us. Hm-mmm!!"

"Oh, you're right, - as bad as you - I was thinking of something like that!"

"He'll think that we are really weird, ... if it works out that he can pick us up."

"And 'have us'! That would be really good."

"Um-hmm!"

"Hmmm? But, ... sort of funny, ... a lot funny! ... With you watching, ... - oh? I guess that I was seeing me doing it to him, sorry."

"That's all right. Why not? That would have to happen, ... - Hmm? - ... or maybe I wouldn't be just watching ...?"

"Oh, we are really weird!"

"But we know what we like, ... and what we would like, if it could happen, ... his coming out here."

"Um-hmm, I guess we do."

"We sure do. ... But now I've got to go."

"Um-hmm, me too, now that you've mentioned it."

They sat up, smiling at each other, and went to the bathroom and both stepped into the tub, and then "went", just smiling again at each other as they did. As Martha turned to turn on the water, his sister said:

"If he comes, we're really going to do it to him."

"If he comes?"

And then they were showering again. This time, when they had their arms around each other, his sister held them closer, holding Martha's hips to hers, and they looked at each other as their stomach muscles tightened against each other and their hips rolled up slightly, pressing them tighter together, and Martha smiled slightly and whispered:

"Good morning," and pressed her hand against his sister's back, pressing their breasts closer.

"Good morning," she replied softly as they looked in each other's eyes, and then their heads tilted slightly, and their eyes closed as their mouths met, opening as they embraced each other and their kiss became more intense under the shower, continuing as their hands held their hips together, rocking their pelvises up again. After kissing for a few moments more, they separated and Martha murmured:

"Mmmm, good morning, again." 

"Um-hmm, yes, to you, too. How did you know I wanted to?"

"... Hm-mmm! When you held me - what did you say on the deck? 'If you had been a boy, you certainly would.' Your remark suddenly occurred to me, and I wanted to. Oh, for a moment, I wondered if you had been thinking the same thing, but I forgot about that when we did."

"Hm-mmm! No, I didn't ... think about that. It was just sort of a reflex - to hold you closer. I don't even know if I was thinking about kissing when it happened ... but I soon was ..."

"Um-hmm. A nice reflex. ... Hm-mmm! That was funny; though I knew it was you, I suddenly felt something was missing; - kissing, standing up like this - didn't feel something I always feel when kissing boys that good."

"Hm-hm-hmm! I guess so! I didn't, but I don't have enough experience ... yet. I don't know if we ever kissed standing up? Hm-mmm! Yeah, I can imagine that you missed that!"

By now they were rinsing each other off, and Martha turned off the water as she agreed:

"Um-hmm. Oh, the first time it happened - with our clothes on, of course - I think he was embarrassed - not wanting to press it up against me, but I did. Oh, I wanted to feel it!"

"And then he didn't mind."

"Hm-umm! Not when he understood that I did." Martha grinned and added:

"Oh no, now - with more experience - I think he was real aroused."

They were drying themselves, and his sister glanced at Martha with a snort and asked:

"You mean ..., uh, ... he might have come?"

"Hm-mmm, but I didn't know that then, just with hindsight now. I hadn't thought about that before, ... or thought about him for years."

They finished drying themselves and went to the kitchen and started making breakfast.

"Um-hmm," Martha murmured to herself and then after a moment turned to her, waiting without smiling until she looked at her. Martha remarked softly:

"I like to talk about it, ... with you," and she then smiled, adding: "and with your brother, too, of course. Never did before, but it is so nice - so much nicer - to tell each other or someone else how good it is."

"Um-hmm, it sure is. I never imagined that we would talk about it. We two, of course, but not with 'him', whomever. But, of course, I had nothing to go on, but now I do." Thanks. Have to remember to tell him that too."

They both nodded with smiles and returned to making breakfast.

After breakfast, they went out on the deck, almost forgetting their shirts, and then Martha let her rub suntan lotion on her, chuckling a little as she did it thoroughly on her breasts and everywhere else - front and back.

Then they were reading again. Suddenly the phone rang, and his sister sprang up, forgetting her shirt as she ran to answer it as Martha rolled over and followed her with her eyes.

"Oh, it's you. Where are you. ... We're getting along fine. What did you expect? ... Um-hmm. ... Oh, it's good that you called. We were thinking that it would be nice if you could pick us up, ... instead of the parents, if you came out with the train. ... Um-hmm, we've been talking a lot. ... Yeah! ... It's your fault - 'gentlemen don't tell' - like ...! ... No. I like that you did. ... Really, that's what we've been talking about. ... Hm-hmmm! And not just talking! ... Yeah! Are you alone? Asking that? ... That's good. Yeah, you told us we would like it. ... Oh, I understand; now you can't talk, but I can. Thanks for telling us; we do. ... Hmmm! You're jealous! You shouldn't be. We both want you to come out. ... Yeah. ... Oh really! So suggest it to the parents, like you were doing them a favor. You could come out Friday evening and stay till Sunday. ... Yeah, we want that! ... You want to talk to her?"




Martha in America Ch. 11



Martha had joined her with both their shirts, listening to the last of her side of the conversation. His sister held the phone to her, and she listened for a moment.

"Um-hmm, we want you to. ... Oooh! Yes! Really! I guess you understood from what she said. But you've got something we haven't. ... Oh yes, you can't say much, ... but I can! We want you to come ... Yes, like that! You don't have to say anything. ... Yes, that's a good idea. We've already talked about it. ... They did! ... But they don't know. You must be alone again if you could say that. ... I thought so. Oh, that's good! They couldn't think you - still think you would - with your sister here. ... I hope not, too!"

Martha hung up and looked at his sister and remarked:

"I guess you understood that, that they thought that we did it."

"But it sounded like he convinced them?"

"He thinks so."

"I hope so!"

"Me too! We'll just have to wait and see. He said he would call again tomorrow."

"Um-hmm."

They put on their shirts and went back out on the deck and took them off and returned to their books.

After a while, Martha murmured:

"I think they're going to do it again."

"Really?!" his sister replied and immediately rolled over next to her, their bodies touching as Martha shoved the book over. They propped themselves up on their elbows and both read, Martha waiting to turn the page until she nodded.

And they did - Marjorie Morningstar and her fiancé. Martha's and his sister's feet moved against each other as they read, and then Martha's slid over hers, holding their thighs together, both of them moving slightly against each other, and their nipples were stiff as they exchanged appreciative sounding hums.

They looked at each other when they had finished the chapter, smirking slightly as Martha's foot moved on hers. 

"Um-hmm," she responded and reached under past her breasts and under their arms and found Martha's breast with her hand, fondling it, and then letting that shoulder sink to the deck as she reached further and fondled her other breast. Martha looked down at her with a smile, rubbing the inside of her foot again her ankle, as his sister's fingers played with her aroused nipple. Martha clenched her thighs together with a soft hum, as her hips pressed down on the deck. His sister rolled onto her side, leaving her foot under Martha's, who shifted her weight so that she could hold hist sister's breast in return, snorting softly as her fingers held its fullness and murmuring: 

"Half a grapefruit."

"Um-hmm! ... I bet we taste good."

"Hm-mmm! I do too."

His sister raised her knee a little between Martha's thighs, as they continued to fondle each other, looking in each other's eyes with little smiles. Martha's thighs held it, and she murmured: 

"I don't think we should ... out here."

"But we did, yesterday."

"I know, but it's a little risky. Oh, and your parents said that we should be careful ... just two girls out here alone together."

"Um-hmm, I guess so," his sister replied, sounding a little disappointed as her knee sank back down, and added:

"But it was so good, in the sun. I wanted to do it with him like that, ... - Hmm! - ... well, I did, ... to him, but ... But the last night we did it to each other, just the way I wanted, out in the cool air, at first ... Oh, we were joking about how we wanted all the stars to see us. I did, anyway, ... and we let them."

Martha chuckled and squeezed her breast, but then removed her hand and started to sit up. His sister then did so and reached for her shirt as she said:

"I guess this is a good time to call home. Should I ask about his picking us up?"

"I don't think so; it will be better if he suggests and can see their reaction. If you ask your mother, she probably won't want to answer immediately, and then can think about it longer; not good, if she has any ... misgivings. Is that the right word?"

"Um-hmm. You're right, and that's easier, anyway."

Martha nodded as she put on her shirt, and they went back into the house. She called her mother, who was pleased to hear from her, and pleased that they were getting on well, and that the meatloaf had been a success, and then asked what they had been doing, and what they were planning to do, and she told her that they were going to go down on the beach as she glanced at Martha and saw her nod. Her mother reminder her that they should be careful, and she replied:

"Yes, of course, Mom, we just talked about that," looking at Martha again, who grinned at her. She stuck her tongue out at her as she listened to her mother, and then answered:

"Yes, we will be, and love to Daddy, too," and hung up the phone.

"Greetings from her," she said to Martha.

"Let's go to the beach, like you told her."

"Yeah, I guess so, ... and work on my visible tan." 

She snickered and started to take off her shirt, and they went to their rooms and put on their bikinis. On the beach, they walked, passing other people out walking or swimming, or just lying in the sun. They found a spot further away from the others to spread their towels and then went in the water. His sister tried to body surf, but the waves were too small, and after a while they returned to their towels, discovering two boys had settled down near them and were observing them as they dried themselves. They lay down on their stomachs, facing each other and then agreeing that they didn't want to encourage them. The boys sat up, and then one of them called over:

"Where you from?"

His sister, who was facing them, replied: "The City." Martha turned her head towards them and added: "It's none of your business," and turned her head back and raised her eyebrows.

"I should have said that," his sister replied: "... thanks. Next time." Martha smiled with a slight nod. After a few moments; his sister said: "They're going away," and they both smiled, and then sat up and turned towards the ocean and sun.

After a while, a good-looking young man came along with a bag in his hand and asked if he could sit down. They nodded, and he did. He got his towel out and settled down, looking at Martha, he asked:

"Where you from?"

"Norway," Martha answered with a smile, and his sister added:

"Is that what you all ask?"

"I don't know. I just did. Who is 'you all'?"

"The guys we just told that it was none of their business."

"Maybe it is. It's a harmless question, and I got an interesting answer," and he looked back at Martha, who smiled again.

"Really?" he replied and looked at his sister and said:

"But I guess you're from New York?"

"Um-hmm," she admitted.

"So you're visiting here?" he asked, turning back to Martha.

"Yes, so to speak. I'm an au pair."

"For my brother," his sister added, trying to suppress a grin as she glanced at Martha.

"How old is he? He must be out of diapers," and he glanced over at her, taking in her figure with his eyes for a moment.

"Oh, he is," Martha agreed with a snort: "He's about your age," and she smiled.

He snorted with a grin, looking at one and then the other of them before he asked:

"And he needs an au pair?"

They all chuckled and smiled at each other, and then his sister replied:

"Well, he doesn't need one to change his diapers; that's for sure!" and she grinned at Martha, who chuckled and agreed:

"No, he certainly doesn't."

He snorted again and grinned, and then said:

"I wish I had had an au pair ... when I was out of diapers."

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed with a chuckle, and his sister added:

"I bet, ... and would have wanted to have had her," and then she blushed at what she had said, looking flustered as the other two snickered, glancing at her and then at each other, and Martha blushed slightly, too.

"I didn't say that," he remarked with a wry smile, and then for a few moments they were all silent, looking out at the ocean.

"And where are you from?" Martha finally asked.

"Oh, ... I'm from Minnesota,"

"Oh, I've got relatives there; uncles of my parents, but I've never met them. ... No, I met one once when he came back to Oslo on vacation. He still referred to it as Christiania, the old name that was changed in 1923."

"Yeah, I know some like that, the older people standing outside the Lutheran church on Sundays speaking Norwegian and Swedish."

"Do you?"

"No, my family came from Russia, my grandparents."

"And what are you doing here?" his sister asked.

"Staying with a friend from college, and then we're going to Europe."

"Oh, that sounds good. Just the two of you?"

"No, another guy is joining us tomorrow, ... no, I guess on Thursday."

"And out here?"

"He lives on Long Island and suggested I come out here today. He had something to do in the City."

"Have you been to Europe before?"

"No. Have you?"

"Not yet; going with a group in a couple of weeks, though. Where are you going?"

"All the big cities, and what we find in between. We have Eurail Passes and can go anywhere we want. Guys last year told that they took night trains and slept on the train, sometimes just taking a convenient train to wherever, even going back and forth between two cities."

"That sounds funny: Munich and then ... Vienna, ... or Hamburg, and then back again."

"Yeah like that."

"Boys at home have done that, too," Martha interjected, adding:

"But I don't guess girls should, ... alone."

"No, probably not. Have you been to the Continent?"

"Only to Denmark and Hamburg, ... oh, and to England, but I guess that's not the Continent."

"We're flying to London."

"It's nice, but real big. ... Oh, well, I guess that was my impression ... at the time. New York and Chicago are probably as large."

"And large for me."

"Where do you go to college? ... Oh, I was assuming that you do."

"Um-hmm, Northwestern, in Chicago."

"I've heard of it."

His sister remarked: 

"My brother says they call the Harvard of the Midwest."

"I've heard it called that, too, but I think by people who wished they could have gone to Harvard, ... or that their son could have. There's a story about the father who said that and then asked the other father where his son was going to college, and he replied: 'Oh, he's going to the Northwestern of New England.'"

They all laughed, and then he asked:

"Are you staying out here, or just out here for the day, like me?"

"We're staying out here, my family's place."

"Oh, that's nice. Yeah, I guess, from your tan."

"Yeah, this is my third week. I guess you can tell."

"Um-hmm. But you haven't been out here so long?" he asked, glancing at Martha.

"No, just since Sunday. Last week her parents were here, and before that her brother."

"Hm-hmm! That was nice of him. I don't think I could take a week alone with my sister."

"He didn't either, ... but it worked out, better than we thought it would."

She started to blush again, and Martha noticed and suggested:

"Let's go swimming," and started to stand up.

"Good idea," the other two both said and got up with her and went into the water. He was a good swimmer and immediately swam out further, leaving them behind. 

"Thanks," she said to Martha, adding me: "Me and my big mouth!"

"Um-hmm, but no harm done."

"Yeah, thanks again."

They swam around a little, watching him swim along outside the waves and then turning and swimming back.

"Can we offer him a beer," she asked Martha.

"Yes, I guess. We want one."

When he returned and they had dried themselves, Martha suggested that they go back and have a beer.

"Oh, that's an offer I can't refuse. I was thinking about bringing some, maybe to share, but then thought that would seem too ... planned. Thanks."

They all smiled and nodded. As they walked back to the house, he introduced himself: 

"Oh, my name is Boris, very Russian."

"Martha," Martha replied, using the English pronunciation. 

"Becky, Rebecca," his sister said, adding: 

"But my brother said in Norway you pronounce it "Marta."

Martha nodded with a smile, and he said: 

"Like I have heard back home."

With more smiles they walked on and entered the house.



Martha in America Ch. 12



12

They all smiled and nodded. As they walked back to the house, he introduced himself: 

"Oh, my name is Boris, very Russian."

"Martha," Martha replied, using the English pronunciation. 

"Becky, Rebecca," his sister said, adding: 

"But my brother said in Norway you pronounce it "Marta."

Martha nodded with a smile, and he said: 

"Like I have heard back home."

With more smiles they walked on and entered the house.

"Nice," he said as they entered it. Martha went and got three cans of beer and returned. He looked at the three cans and with a glance at Becky asked:

"You too?"

"Um-hmm, but don't tell my parents. My brother let me."

"Now I know why you got on so well together."

"Yeah, he thought I shouldn't wait till the first football game party to drink."

"Good idea," he agreed, and they went out on the deck and sat down and opened their cans.

"Skaal," he said, and Martha looked surprised as she and Becky then said it, and they all drank. When they looked at each other again, he said:

"Everyone in Minnesota says skaal," and smiled at Martha and added:

"And it seemed most appropriate ... with you."

"Um-hmm," she agreed: "... I had to teach them how, her brother and her."

"Hm-mmm! But I bet they learned quickly, ... with such a good teacher."

Martha blushed at his compliment, and they all took another sip. He asked where Becky was going in Europe, and they chatted about their travel plans. When Becky mentioned the Riviera, Martha caught her breath for a moment, but Becky didn't say anything about her wanting to go topless. When they were finishing their beers, the girls exchanged glances, nodding slightly, and Becky suggested: 

"Why don't you stay for lunch, if you are just waiting for your friend?"

"That would be very nice, but I don't want to impose."

"Not at all," Martha replied with a smile, and they went back in the house.

She and Martha got out the makings for sandwiches, and he helped set the table, and they agreed to have another beer, and then sat down and ate, with more conversation. When they had finished, also their beers, Becky suggested: 

"We can clean up later; I want to work on my tan."

Martha gave her a surprised glance, but he had already agreed: 

"Good idea before you get to the Riviera."

Becky grinned with a nod. Martha looked a little apprehensive. When they back on the deck, sitting down, Becky glanced at Martha and then looked at him and said: 

"We've been going ..."

"Becky!" Martha interjected sharply.

"Why not; everyone knows girls go topless there?"

"But not here!"

"We have been."

"Just the two of us."

He was trying to repress a smirk. Becky replied: 

"You said you had in Norway."

"Yes, but ..."

Becky looked at Boris with slightly embarrassed expression and asked: 

"Would you mind? I wanted to know what it would be like - not just alone?

"Becky!" Martha exclaimed insistently.

He shrugged with repressed smile. Becky was reaching back to unhook her top. Martha remarked again, less insistently: 

"Becky!"

"You too. Oh, I know they're going to stick out - already are - but that's why I want to try it."

"I don't mind," Boris quickly remarked, but he was looking at Martha with a sympathetic expression. 

He continued to look at Martha as Becky's bikini top slipped down. Martha gave him a very wry smile. Her nipples were already obvious bumps under the thin cloth of her top. She shrugged and reached back, finding the end of the string to the bow behind her back, murmuring: 

"I guess so, if you don't mind."

He shook his head slightly, returning her wry smile. Rather than pulling her top over her head, she found the other bow behind her neck and let the two triangles of cloth drop down. 

He smiled appreciatively, his eyes then immediately finding hers. She shrugged again with a slight smile and glanced over at Becky. His eyes followed hers, taking in Becky's breasts and aroused nipples. It was a moment before he glanced up at her face. She was smiling, apparently enjoying that he was looking at her. He murmured - almost apologetically:

"Lovely, but I don't know if I should be here."

"We wanted you to be," Becky replied."

"Like this? You did." Martha replied, earning his glance back at her breasts. 

Her nipples popped out again. She snorted softly and rubbed her forearm over them. Becky remarked: 

"I wanted to know how it would be to have men seeing them - you know - in France."

"Nice for them, he replied with a grin.

"But they're not supposed to stick out."

"Hm-hmm! That's up to them, I guess. Hmm? I don't think they're supposed to, just supposed to think it is nothing special."

"Hmm! Maybe, why I'm trying it here."

He smiled with a soft snort and remarked: 

They will - the guys looking - if they do like that."

"Hmm! Just look?"

"Becky!" Martha admonished again with a scowl - and erect nipples.

Conciliatorily, he remarked: 

"You won't be the only one; and they'll have seen others, and if they look, they won't stare, at least, probably not so you will notice. I didn't ask you to show me."

"No. Still hope you didn't mind," Becky replied, her nipples relaxing.

"No, just very surprised, pleasantly." 

When his eyes dropped down, her nipples popped out again, and then Martha's did again, when he glanced over at her with questioning shrug. She also shrugged, this time with a less wry smile, remarking: 

"I guess so, just a little surprising, like this with you."

"For me too, but I said that all ready," he replied, and they both glance over at Becky.

She grinned and said: 

"Yeah - I know - all my fault, but I wanted to know, ... you know, if - well - you know, if the guys were going to be ... well, you know."

For an instant, Becky's eyes drop down at his trunks. Martha scowled at her again, shaking her head. He smirked slightly, also shaking his head, then replying: 

"If that's what you mean, I hope not, but don't ask them. Hm-hmm! And don't stare, if you don't want them to."

They all chuckled. Becky blushed, again with erect nipples, murmuring: 

"I heard they wear skimpy shorts."

He chuckled again, nodding. Martha also nodded, but with another apprehensive expression. Becky looked past him for a couple of seconds. Her nipples popped out again, and she began to blush, but then hesitantly started to ask: 

"Are you ..."

"Becky!" Martha interrupted her with a sharper scowl.

"Am I what?" he asked. 

Becky avoided looking at Martha and replied in a rush: 

"Are you circumcised?"

"Becky! You can't ask that!" Martha admonished her again. 

He chuckled with a slight smile, glancing back and forth at them - now both blushing - then shrugged and replied: 

"No. Why?"

Martha had a resigned expression, but then an apprehensive one again. Becky's was embarrassed, but after a moment she murmured: 

"She said they're more fun to play with."

"Becky!"

He glanced at Martha with another chuckle and asked: 

"You did?"

Blushing more deeply, without returning his glance, she nodded slightly. He repressed a chuckle, just grinning, and said: 

"If you say so." 

Becky started to laugh, and then Boris and Martha did. It was several seconds before they caught their breath. The girls' blushes had faded, and their nipples relaxed, but they popped out again when he said: 

"They jiggle nicely when you both laugh."

In an immediate reflex, both girls covered their breasts with their hands, but just smiled wryly. Martha remarked: 

"Hers more than mine."

"But yours too," he countered with a grin and raised his beer and said "Skaal."

The girls raised theirs and said "skaal," and they all drank, smiling and chuckling. After a moment, he looked at Becky and said: 

"Guess you haven't seen one?"

"Not like that."

"Becky!" Martha admonished again.

"I just asked," she replied with a shrug.

"I shouldn't have told you."

"But you did."

"What girls talk about," he remarked with a grin.

"I guess so," Martha agreed with a wry smile, then glanced at Becky and said: 

"Just don't ask see it."

Becky blushed again with aroused nipples. He grinned at her and asked: 

"She thought you might?"

"I guess so. Hmm? Yeah, of course I'm curious; Jewish family and friends."

"And seen theirs?"

Martha was looking very apprehensive again. Becky replied: 

"Just one. Oh, my brother's - when we were little, doesn't count." 

Martha looked a little relieved, but only for a moment; Becky added: 

"She's seen his."

"Becky!"

"I don't know if I should be hearing this," he remarked softly.

"Oh, I like that she did, just curious about yours - I mean - the other kind."

"Becky!"

"Why not? Since we've been talking about it?"

"You have!"

"Just curious. You know my family; I'm only going to date Jewish boys."

"And want to know what mine's - I mean - the other kind is like?"

Becky nodded with an almost hopeful expression. Martha remarked quickly: 

"Don't show her; she'll want to play with it."

"Martha!"

This time it was Becky admonishing, but then she grinned at him and nodded. He grinned and remarked: 

"I'm almost tempted to."

"Don't!" Martha said.

"Do!" Becky quickly countered with a grin.

"Becky!"

"Why not, if he wants to?"

"Because ...."

"He can't mind, if I want to play with it."

"You shouldn't!" 

"If it's more fun than the other kind? You'd want to."

"Both of you? I'm beginning to like this," he remarked with a smile.

Both girls involuntarily glanced down at the bulge in his boxer trunks. With a slightly wry expression, he reached down and massaged his cock to a more comfortable position, murmuring: 

"We've been talking about him too much."

"We have!" Martha agreed emphatically, giving Becky another scowl.

"But he was interested," she replied, grinning at Boris and adding: "liking it."

"Becky!"

"Not just talking, with you two sh... - sitting like that. Wasn't my idea."

"I know, it's all my fault," Becky remarked, but then smiled at him and added: 

"But if you are tempted to."

"Becky!"

He chuckled with a grin, looking at Martha, and replied: 

"If you can show me your breasts, if she wants to see him ...."

"Boris!" Martha admonished him."

"She does," Becky remarked with erect nipples.

"Becky!"

"If she wants to - sort of - just to be fair," he replied, reaching for the elastic of his trunks.

"You want to?!" Martha asked, also with aroused nipples.

He shrugged, pushing the elastic down at his sides. Becky hummed with a grin, nodding, her eyes staring at the front of his trunks. Martha gave a resigned "hmm!" The girls both watched him slide his hands back and push his trunks down, till he had to drop back to shove them past his hips. He sat up again, and then - with a wry grin - pushed them up his thighs. 

His cock wasn't so aroused that he had slide a hand around to free it from the elastic, but aroused enough that his foreskin slipped down from its head. He snorted softly as he pushed his trunks past his knees and then off his legs. Not just Becky was staring at his cock. Both she and Martha hummed at the sight of it. As he put his trunks aside, he looked at the one and other with a wry grin. 

"Doesn't look much different," Becky murmured to herself.

"Not when it's like that," Martha agreed softly, then glancing up at him with wry smile at her having shown interest in his cock after having tried to discourage Becky's for so long. 

He smiled at her with a nod, then unconsciously jostling his balls to free his sack from his thighs. Both girls snorted softly, then Becky glanced over at Martha and murmured: 

"You show me; since you know how they differ."

"You want me to? You wanted to."

"If you want to," he murmured: "If she wants you to."

"How did we get like this?" Martha murmured.

"Go ahead; I'll watch, show me," Becky murmured.

"You really want me to?"

"And then let her," he suggested softly.

While Martha was hesitating, Becky remarked: 

"That's a good idea; show me."

Martha glanced up at him again; she had been looking at his cock, that was less aroused now, his foreskin creeping back up around its head. Becky was still looking at it and murmured: 

"Oh, like that."

He nodded with soft chuckle, looking again at Martha and murmured: 

"Go ahead and show her; you know he wants you to."

Martha gave him a wry smile and shrugged, replying: 

"I guess so, but this is all a little strange. If you want me to?"

He nodded and dropped back on his elbows. Becky was grinning. Martha shrugged and dropped down next to him, giving Becky a wry smile as she propped her head up on her elbow. She didn't see him and Becky exchange smiles, watching her hand find his cock, now a little more aroused than it had been. With a quizzically sounding "hmm?" she grasped it and pushed his skin up, rolling his foreskin further up around its head. Becky hummed with a nod, and watched Martha slide his skin up and down, humming more strongly, when she saw his cock stiffen in her hand. 

As she dropped down on his other side, he also hummed with a chuckle, all of them watching Martha's hand moving up and down on his stiff cock, no longer able to roll his foreskin up as far as before. Both girls' thighs twitched together. After a few more strokes, Becky's hand slid down and found her pussy through her bikini bottom. He noticed, grinning to himself, grinning more, when her hand slipped inside her bottom, seeing her fingers moving on her pussy. 

But then her hand slipped out and approached Martha's, and she murmured: 

"Now let me."

Martha seemed reluctant to let her, but did, and Becky's finger slipped around his cock, continuing Martha's slow rhythm, moving his skin up and down. She smiled to herself, watching how she could roll his foreskin up, then murmuring softly: 

"Yeah, better, more fun."

She didn't notice than Martha's hand had found her own pussy, but he did, seeing that it immediately slipped inside her bikini bottom. Becky was licking her lips. After a couple more strokes, she murmured: 

"Want me to? Want to?"

"Mmmm! Hard to say no."

"I can do something else."

"Becky!"

"Why not; we both like to."

"Becky!"

"If you really want to," he murmured, then adding: 

"You know more about that than I do, it seems."

"No one else?" Becky asked softly. 

"Not yet, ... but I like to."

"Like we do?"

"Becky!!"

"Hmm? I'm not sure. Like I mean?" he replied.

"I hope so, like you and we can."

"Becky!"

"You do?!" he asked.

Becky nodded and murmured: 

"If no one else does."

"Becky!"

"If he likes to? We do."

"Oh, Becky!"

"I do," he murmured, sitting up and rubbing both their shoulders, adding softly: 

"and know why you do."

The girls looked up at him. Martha's hand slipped out of her bottom and held Becky's on his cock still. They all snorted softly with smiles. Martha snorted again and said: 

"If we all want to, but not out here." 

Becky grinned with a nod and let go of his cock, encouraging Martha's fingers to hold it. He grinned down at them and asked: 

"Both of you?"

Martha nodded. Becky replied: "You'd better be able to."

"Hmm? I think so, but never with two girls."

They all chuckled. Becky looked surprised when Martha said: 

"Not out here, in our bed." 

"Your bed," he remarked with a grin.

"'Our bed'," Becky confirmed with a grin.

They got up and hurried back in the house, forgetting that someone on the beach could see the girls' breasts and that he was naked, his cock bobbing. In the bedroom, he looked at them questioningly, back and forth, watching them shove their bikini bottoms down. He asked softly: 

"You both want to - to me - that way?"

The girls nodded and then glanced at each other, both shrugging slightly. 

"Really, all the way?" he asked, and the girls nodded again, both smiling a little wryly.

"What do I do?" he asked.

"Sit down," Becky replied.

He did with slightly quizzical expression, seeing the girls glance at each other again, but his eyes were focused on their pussies, shifting back and forth. Becky murmured to Martha: 

"You can - first. 'Cause you said it would be more fun."

"You; this is all your idea," Martha replied. 

His cock was sinking between his thighs. He glance up at their faces and said: 

"Or I can - 'first.' I want to, too."

"After Martha does," Becky suggested with a smile. 

She shrugged with another wry smile and replied: 

If you really want me to."

Becky nodded. Martha shrugged again and smiled at him, nodding as she stepped in front of him. He returned her smile with warm hum. As she began to kneel down, he murmured: 

"Really, all the way? Want a rubber?"

She shook her head, as he added: "I have a couple."

She shook her head again, as her hand came up under his balls. His cock was rising again, as he spread his knees. Becky grinned and replied to him: 

"Not for this; where?"

He glanced up from looking at Martha and his now more erect cock and smirked, answering: 

"In my toilet kit, in my bag."

Martha glanced up and gave him a smile, as Becky hurried to find his bag, grinning to herself. It was a minute or so before she returned, grinning triumphantly with his rubbers in her hand, but Boris and Martha didn't notice; his cock was in her mouth, and he was moaning, hardly looking at what she was doing. 

Becky did, seeing Martha's cheeks draw in when she sucked, her head bobbing slowly, his stiff cock sliding in and out between her lips. She hummed in empathy, and her thighs pressed together. When her hand moved to her pussy, he did glance at her for a moment, nodding with a slight smile, but then his eyes returned to watching what Martha was doing, and he moaned again.

When Becky dropped down on the bed beside him, Martha opened her eyes and glanced over at her, but then they closed again, as she continued to suck his cock. Despite his arousal at what she was doing, when he saw Becky's hand find her pussy, he glanced over and watched it for a moment, nodding and chuckling between moans, as he observed how her fingers were moving. But then he moaned louder, as though Martha had noticed that he had been distracted and done something more arousing to call his attention back to what she was doing to his cock. 

After another moan, his hips began to twitch. After two more aroused moans, he almost groaned, his hips twitching more strongly, and murmured: 

"You really ...?" 

Before he could finish his sentence - or Martha could respond - with an uncontrolled jerk of his hips, he grunted. Martha hummed, nodding her head, her cheeks drawing in. He grunted again, as his hips thrust his cock deeper in her mouth again, then a couple of times more, before he could finish his question, now in the past tense: 

"... wanted me too?" 

Martha nodded with another hum. He responded with a pained-sounding one and complained softly: "Oooh! Too much, enough!"

Martha nodded with a hum. Becky's fingers had been doing everything they could, but now stilled, as she gave a resigned moan, hearing him ask Martha again: 

"You really wanted to, like that, taste it?"

Martha - also Becky - nodded. He murmured: 

"I hope you really did. God, that was good!"

Both girls nodded again with an "um-hmm." He reached down and urged Martha to raise her head. She gave his cock a final suck and did, letting it slip from between her closed lips, then smirking up at him. Becky saw her mouth moving as though she were still savouring something. She replied: 

"We do - like it. He does too, my brother."

"He does? You know?"

Martha nodded, her lips stilled closed. Becky replied: 

"She told me. Kiss."

Martha nodded with closed-lip grin and rose up. He gave a wry smile, but nodded, embracing her and murmuring: 




Martha in America Ch. 12



"If you both do and he does," and let Martha kiss him, tilting his head back and letting her lower hers over his. 

Becky chuckled as she watched their mouths open, licking her lips when it was apparent that Martha was letting him taste his semen, chuckling again with a nod, as he chuckled with a slight nod, his cheeks drawing in as he sucked with Martha's tongue in his mouth and embraced her closer. Her arms were around his neck; their kiss becoming more than just her letting him taste what she had made his cock give her, his thighs holding her hips. 

Becky chuckled softly again, when she saw their hips rock together, and then heard Martha hum and saw her urge him to lie back on the bed. He did, drawing her down over him, humming himself, and again, when she got her knees up on the bed beside his hips, rocking her hips on his. 

Becky slid off the bed to watch them better, seeing Martha's pussy rubbing on his cock, then seeing it become stiffer again. She hummed and reached between his thighs and fondled his loose sack, fondling his balls, humming again in response to his surprised response. She touched Martha's ass to let her know why, confirming her nod with an "um-hmm!"

Martha and Boris both chuckled, humming, their mouths as active as they could be, and their hips rubbing his cock on her clitoris. Becky stopped fondling his balls and murmured: 

"Rubber," needing both hands to get one. 

The others nodded with aroused hums. Before Becky had it out of the foil, Martha's hips had risen, his cock spring up, twitching. Becky grasped it. She couldn't resist moving his skin up and down a couple of times, but then rolled the rubber down it. He nodded with a emphatic hum, rocking his hips, moving his cock in her hand. When Martha felt her press it down to her opening, she also chuckled with a warm hum, then with a better one as his cock slid into her aroused pussy.

Becky nodded with pleased expression and began to rub her pussy again. Leaning against the bed, she didn't need to watch them to know what was going on next to her, hearing their aroused moans and chuckles. 

It sounded like they had fucked together before, both sharing their pleasure at the sensations they were giving each other, as their hips moved. Becky didn't see his hands' fondling Martha's breasts, maybe could have recognized the sound of his then sucking them instead of sucking her tongue, but that sounded about the same, except for Martha's appreciative, chuckling moans in response. Becky had both hands on her pussy, the fingers of one trying to emulate what his cock was doing in Martha's pussy. Her aroused moans joined theirs. 

Then, with even more aroused moans and gasps, Martha's and Boris's hips were slapping together with wet sounds, Martha's moans reaching a peak, and then his moans shifting to uncontrolled grunts. Becky gasped and exhaled with louder, pulsing moans, her pussy spurting in the palm of the hand whose fingers were so knowingly rubbing the front of her pussy. When they stilled, she gasped again with a moan, then murmured: "fuck."

"Um-hmm," Boris and Martha responded, their hips pressed together, then letting Becky hear a wet, sloppy kiss. She licked her dripping fingers, and with moaning sighs, they all recovered, Martha lying on him. When she extended her legs, his cock slipped out of her pussy, and they both nodded slightly. 

"Hmmm," he hummed softly, rubbing her back, and murmured: 

"We sure did, ... you did."

"You did too," Martha murmured, adding: "as good as it could be," and rolled off him, curling up next to him on the bed. When he drew her closer again, she rested her head on his shoulder and rubbed his chest. He rubbed her back and agreed:

"For me too. Didn't know that ..., well, no one ever did it that way, on top."

"Mmmm, now you do," she replied. 

"I sure do," he agreed, then after a moment added softly:

"This is kind of strange - real strange - just meeting like we have and then this."

"Um-hmm, for me too," she murmured, then chuckled softly and remarked: 

"Oh, once I did on a first date, but I had known him for years in school. Hmm? And of course, with Becky's brother. Wasn't a date, just the first evening together last week. Oh, I had met him before, of course, but, well, we both wanted to."

"All week," Becky remarked. 

"Still a little different," he said, rubbing Martha's back again.

"Um-hmm, ... very," she agreed softly.

Becky rolled onto her knees and looked at his wilting cock, the rubber just hanging on it.

She reached to take it off, then sniffed with a grin. With her other hand, she raised his cock and held the end of the rubber up and watched his semen slide down in it, then helping it with her fingers. He raised his head with a chuckle, watching her. When Martha saw her squeeze the white fluid down on the head of his cock, lowering her head over it and then slipping the rubber off, she exclaimed softly: "Becky!"

Her admonishing tone didn't make Becky hesitate. Her tongue lapped up the thick liquid and his cock disappeared between her lips - almost all of it. She hummed. Martha repeated her admonishing "Becky!" He chuckled and let his head drop back on the bed, then murmured: 

"Oooh! Real strange! If you want to."

"Becky!" Martha repeated again, this time just shaking her head on his shoulder. 

As she watched her suck his soft cock and swallow, she murmured: "I guess so."

He nodded with a shrug, rubbing Martha's back again. After a few moments, Becky raised her head, letting his cock drop down, and murmured: 

"Wanted to know if they all taste the same."

"How many?" he asked."

"Just one, two weeks ago." 

"Becky!!" Martha exclaimed with a start. 

Becky grinned at her and said: 

"My cousin, ... second cousin. He was supposed the chaperone me out here. Oh, he did, didn't let anyone see me in my bikini - or without it."

Martha relaxed. He raised his head again, grinning with a chuckle, and asked: 

"And the family thought he would, I mean, that you both wouldn't?"

"I guess not. Hm-hmm! He agreed that my first time shouldn't be after a drunken party after a football game at college. It wasn't."

"Hmm! I guess not. No, I am sure it wasn't."

They all snickered, grinning. He remarked: 

"Even stranger," and put his other arm under his head.

"Why not?" Becky replied, adding: 

"If we want to, like to? I do. Sure, I guess, a little strange, but - hm-hmm! - 'opportunity makes thieves'." 

"I haven't stolen anything," he replied with a grin.

Martha chuckled with a nod and said: 

"More like given us what we wanted."

"Not me, yet," Becky replied, grinning and fondling his balls.

"You got to taste him," Martha remarked, then chuckling and adding: 

"Rather kind of stole it."

"Um-hmm! Good! So we don't have to do it both ways again."

"Hmm? Not sure about even one way again," he replied, but grinned.

"You can. My ... cousin could, just takes a little longer, all the better."

"Becky!"

"And if I want to taste you?" he asked with a grin.

"Mmmm! If you want to? Hm-hmm! And can do it as good as Martha ..."

"Becky!"

" ... or my cousin." 

"Oh, Becky," Martha replied resignedly."

"But first I want to play with it, with it still like this." 

Becky's fingers slid up from his balls and held his soft cock, pulling his skin up. She grinned to herself, as she watched the soft head of his cock disappear in his foreskin, and then slid it back down again. She pushed it back up again with a chuckle and then licked the soft wrinkle of skin. As she slid his foreskin back down again, she murmured: 

"A lot more fun."

"If you say so," he remarked with a chuckle.

She shoved it back up and licked it again, but when she pulled it back down, her lips slipped around the head of his now less soft cock. He hummed with a smile. Martha complained: 

"You said you weren't going to."

Becky nodded but didn't immediately raise her head. When she did, she replied: 

"I just had to - just a little," and looked up at him with a smile and said: 

"Now you can," and rose up off the floor.

He nodded. As she began to clamber up over him, Martha moved aside with wry smile to make space for her. He remarked: 

"Sounds like you two and your cousin - and your brother - have more experience than I have - just a couple of times with one girl; the one after that didn't want me to."

"I do, want you to," Becky replied, as she crawled up over him. 

"And not like this," he murmured, as her knees moved up passed his head.

Martha shook her head slightly with a bemused expression, as she watched him hold Becky's hips and draw her pussy to his mouth. Becky hummed with a smile, and then responded to what his tongue was doing: "Oooh! Hm-hmm! Mmmm!" 

"Enough experience," Martha murmured to herself, holding her breast. 

When Becky's appreciative, encouraging hums shifted to aroused moans, Martha's thighs clasped together, and her fingers aroused her stiff nipple. She nodded, when she saw his hands slide up and find Becky's breasts. Martha's other hand was sliding down to her pussy, when she saw that his cock was aroused. She smiled to herself with another nod, but then frowned slightly with a soft, questioning "hmm?" 

With a reluctant expression, she extended her legs and slipped off the bed, kneeling, on the floor. For a moment, she looked past his cock at Becky's ass and his chin, then looked around on the floor and found the two other rubbers Becky had taken from his toilet kit. She picked one of them up and then looked at his aroused cock again, seeing it move slightly each time his heart beat, hearing Becky's now more aroused moans.

"Just a little," she muttered to herself and moved closer between his knees. Her breasts brushed his thighs as she leaned down over them. He responded with a slight "hnn?" but spread his thighs. When her lips slipped around the head of his cock, he moaned, but apparently Becky heard and felt it only as an accompaniment to her own moans. 

As they became even more aroused, Martha gave a disappointed hum and raised her head and tore open the foil of the rubber, then looked up to see Becky's hips twitching on his face. She moaned in empathy with her, and now her hand did find her pussy, her fingers trying to duplicate what his tongue was doing on Becky's.

Martha's moans were almost as aroused as Becky's, when she saw her reach her climax, saw her thighs quivering and then heard his tongue making very wet noises, as Becky gasped and groaned. His cock was twitching strongly. Becky's hips stilled, as she continued to gasp and moan. Martha gave a disappointed sounding moan and stopped rubbing her pussy. With moist fingers, she caught his twitching cock and slipped the rubber over it. As she was rolling it down, Becky demanded softly: 

"Now fuck!" and began to move back down his body. Then she stopped and murmured: 

"Oh? Rubber?"

"Martha's put it on," he replied."

"Oh? Good," Becky murmured and continued to move back without glancing back. 

Martha smiled wryly and guided his cock to her pussy. As she saw it slip into her, Becky gave a chuckling moan and lowered her hips. He moaned. Martha's fingers slid down and fondled his balls for moment and then found her pussy again. Becky dropped down on him, kissing him and murmuring: 

"That was as good as it could be."

"Um-hmm, better than she came," he murmured. 

Martha's fingers were trying to make it as good for her pussy. She rolled around to lean against the bed and used both hands, her eyes closed, just feeling the mattress move as Becky began to fuck him and hearing their moans and the slapping together of their hips. 

Martha came, and Becky did, and Martha did again, when she heard Boris and Becky come together. When they all had recovered, Becky kissed him again, and murmured: 

"God, that was good."

"Um-hmm, very, better," he agreed."

"Um-hmm, better than ..."

"With your cousin?" Martha quickly interjected."

"Um-hmm, maybe - better than with my cousin. Didn't think it could be."

Martha chuckled and suggested: 

"Maybe as good as your brother - with me?"

Both girls chuckled at their private joke. He chuckled, too, replying: 

"Sounds like a fucking good family. Sorry, if you didn't like my using that word."

"I'll tell them," Becky replied, chuckling again.

"Better not, ..." Martha said: "... don't want to tell them about this."

"I guess not," Becky agreed, rolling off him.

He moved back on the bed, drawing Becky with him, murmuring: 

"I don't think so either; think I could either, and then said to Martha: 

"Come here, I want to hug you both."

She quickly joined them, his arms around both of them. He hugged them closer, and their thighs slid over his. They all chuckled softly. Then he murmured: 

"No one would believe this."

"Hm-umm," Martha agreed, rubbing his chest with her wet hand.

"But it did," Becky responded.

"It sure did, thank you," he agreed, hugging them again.

"And thank you," Martha replied."

"From me, too," Becky agreed.

He hugged them again, humming, and then murmured: 

"I have to get back to meet my friend. Hmm? Don't know how I'm going to tell how I spent my day."

"Hm-hmm! Just fucking around!" Becky suggested with a grin.

They all laughed, a little longer than just for her joke. Then Martha suggested: 

"We can drive you back." 

"Oh, that would be nice, thank you."

"Want a shower? We all need one."

"Sure do. Hm-hmm! Sorry if I kept you from getting as much sun as you wanted."

"We wanted something else more," Becky replied."

"I did too, just didn't know it," he agreed, and they all sat up.

The rubber had slipped off his cock, and they all chuckled at seeing it on the bed. He picked it up. Becky found the other one and the wrappings, and they all went to the bathroom. Martha smiled and said: 

"We'll wash you."

"I've to go." 

"We do too," Becky replied, adding: 

"Like we do, in the shower, and with my brother."

"With me; you with your cousin," Martha quickly corrected her."

Becky nodded with brief smile, while he smirked and replied: 

"If you say so. Sounds like you two don't have any secrets. Haven't done that either. Oh, I go in the shower, but haven't with anyone else."

"But taken a shower with her?" Becky asked.

He nodded with a grin and said: "two," then asked: "Ready?"

The girls nodded. He shrugged, and his stream arched out. When theirs did, splashing on each others' legs and feet, they all snorted softly, chuckling. He murmured: 

"Warm, a little raunchy."

"How I learned that word - with Becky's brother," Martha commented.

They chuckled again, and then Martha began to wash him, handing the soap to Becky for her to help. He nodded with a chuckle, when Martha started to wash his cock and balls, but when Becky's soapy fingers slid down to wash his asshole, he responded in surprised: 

"Hnn? Guess you washed them better than we did."

"They did," Becky replied and rubbed his asshole.

"Oooh! If you want. Hm-hmm! Feels sort of good."

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed, still fondling him, then grinning up at him and adding: 

"And even better ..., well, in bed."

"Oh? Really? You like that - then?"

Martha nodded. Becky replied: 

"They do too."

"Hmm? If you do, I guess maybe so." 

They started to wash his legs. He chuckled and remarked: 

"Haven't done that. Is that some kind of Jewish secret?"

"I doubt it," Becky replied. 

"It won't be when I get back home," Martha added with a grin.

"Hm-hmm! Nor when I do, if a girl back home doesn't object."

Becky chuckled and suggested: 

"Maybe one that wants to take a shower with you?"

"I hope so!" he agreed.

Then he washed the girls with the other's help, experimenting that way and hearing their chuckles and hums of approval. With the second one, he experimented a little more. She responded with an almost aroused hum and murmured: 

"Should have taken our showers first."

"You really like it?"

"Um-hmm."

They finished their showers and got dressed, exchanging slightly wry smiles. They collected their things from the deck. As he was packing his bag, he smiled and said: 

"Sure didn't expect to need my rubbers today, and still not sure how this all happened."

"We aren't either," both girls replied, Martha adding: 

"I sure didn't plan it."

"I didn't either," Becky agreed, adding: 

"Certainly not even when we took off our tops. I just want to try going topless."

"But then starting talking too much," Martha suggested.

"Not too much," he objected with a grin.

Martha nodded, returning his smile and said they would drive him wherever he wanted to go. They went out to the car, all sitting on the front seat. During the drive, the girls remembered that they needed more beer. He immediately insisted on paying for it, saying: 

"It's the least I can do to thank you for lunch and such a ... 'surprising' day, just a small gesture."

Becky snickered and said: 

"Oh, having rubbers was a 'small gesture', but made it so much more 'surprising'." 

"Becky! Boris was trying not to be so direct, you know, subtle, not mention or think about that now."

"But I will," he replied with a warm smile.

"I will too," Becky murmured, returning his smile.

"Hard -- impossible - to forget; I will too," Martha agreed, also smiling. 

She drove to the bottle shop and he got out, returning with two six packs. The girls thanked him, and Martha drove him to where is was going to meet his friend. As they were approaching the address, he spotted his friend and said: 

"Uh-oh, I'm going to have to tell him something - not everything! I was wanting to kiss you both, but I'd better not; just make my story more difficult."

The girls nodded. Martha replied: 

"We'll just remember that you wanted to."

"And remember how you really did," Becky added.

"Me too," he agreed with another warm smile. 

As he was opening the car door, Martha reached over to shake his hand. He took it, holding it long enough to say: 

"Nice European custom, like the older people in Minnesota." 

She nodded, and he shook Becky's hand, and then got out and waved to his friend, smiling at the girls again as he closed the door. After a moment, Martha started the car again. He waved as they drove away. They glanced at each other again, exchanging smiles, and were silent while Martha drove back.

After she had parked the car, they got out, and Becky took the beer into the kitchen and put it in the refrigerator. Martha suggested that it was a good time for her to call home. She nodded with a wry expression and did: 

"Hi Mother. ... Yeah, we're fine, spent most of the day on the beach. ... Of course not in my bikini. ... We're going to have the rest of the meatloaf tonight. It was real good. ... Yes, we wash dishes, everything spick-and-span. ... Yes, we keep the house clean - no sand - and we don't sit on the upholstery in our bathing suits, before you ask. ... Martha waved and said to thank you again for letting her come out here. ... I will. And thank you from me, too. ... To you both, too." 

She hung up and smiled at Martha, remarking: 

"Good idea, a lot easier talking to her with clothes on, especially after today. She sends you greetings and liked that your meatloaf was so good."

"I can imagine. The meatloaf and leftovers?"

They went in the kitchen and started preparing the meal, neither suggesting they get undressed or immediately have a beer. They had one with their meal, but still with their clothes on, and kept them on for the rest of the evening, watching TV.



Martha in America Ch. 13



After she had parked the car, they got out, and Becky took the beer into the kitchen and put it in the refrigerator. Martha suggested that it was a good time for her to call home. She nodded with a wry expression and did: 

"Hi Mother. ... Yeah, we're fine, spent most of the day on the beach. ... Of course not in my bikini. ... We're going to have the rest of the meatloaf tonight. It was real good. ... Yes, we wash dishes, everything spick-and-span. ... Yes, we keep the house clean - no sand - and we don't sit on the upholstery in our bathing suits, before you ask. ... Martha waved and said to thank you again for letting her come out here. ... I will. And thank you from me, too. ... To you both, too." 

She hung up and smiled at Martha, remarking: 

"Good idea, a lot easier talking to her with clothes on, especially after today. She sends you greetings and liked that your meatloaf was so good."

"I can imagine. The meatloaf and leftovers?"

They went in the kitchen and started preparing the meal, neither suggesting they get undressed or immediately having a beer. They had one with their meal, but still with their clothes on, and kept them on for the rest of the evening, watching TV. 

When they went to the bedroom and were starting to get undressed, Martha remarked with a chuckle: 

"Just like normal people for a change."

"Um-hmm. After talking with my mother, I didn't want to suggest anything, and you didn't – just normal people for a change."

"Hmm! A lot of 'for a change'!"

They grinned. Becky unconsciously fluffed up her pubic hair, and they went to the bathroom. As Martha was about to use the toilet, she looked down and snorted remarking: 

"I forgot to flush."

Becky looked down in the bowl and saw the two rubbers and their wrapping. She chuckled and replied: 

"Saving water, lots of water, if we all had used it and flushed."

"I think we used more with our showers."

They smiled at each other, nodding, and Martha sat down. Becky brushed her teeth and then also used the toilet, giving their rubbers a last glance before flushing. Then she sniffed and asked: 

"I wonder what happens to them at the sewage plant; must be a lot of them out here."

"Two weeks ago, with you and your 'cousin'. God, you almost scared me!"

"Almost scared myself, but remembered in time that I had told him - my brother - about imagining that it could have happened with a second cousin."

"Good thing. Anyone special, you have a cousin who it could have been?"

"No, I described him as a younger version of Simon, Mother's youngest brother."

"Still keeping it in the family."

"Had to be someone close enough they could trust to chaperone me out here."

"Hm-hmm! The closer the better, your brother."

"As it turned out."

They were back in the bedroom, about to get into their still rumpled bed. Martha suggested they switch the sheets, and they did, sharing wry smiles. Becky lay down and Martha joined her, just lying facing each other. Martha murmured: 

"That was enough for one day."

"Um-hmm, ... but he didn't get to do it to you."

"Still. Hope he did it good; it sounded like it."

"Hmmm! He sure did! Guess it doesn't take all yours and my brother's experience."

"Hmm! Just comes naturally."

"I sure hope it did, for me, for you. Hope he did too, how you were doing it."

"Oooh! Yes! A lot more than I wanted. No! A lot more than I expected; I wanted him to."

"Maybe since it was his first time like that?"

"Hmm? Maybe." 

Martha hummed with a chuckle, then chuckled again and said: 

"Oh, I wanted him to. I was recalling that your brother had said that it was always especially arousing to know that a girl was doing it to him for the first time, and ..."

"Hmm?" Becky interrupted her and remarked: 

"Yours too? He must have been thinking about some before, not just me."

"Don't want to think about that. Anyway, I was recalling what he had said and enjoying especially that I was doing it for the first time for him."

"Nice! Maybe I will sometime."

"Hm-hmm! I hope so, but now let's go to sleep."

Martha rolled over, and Becky curled up behind her, finding her breast with her hand. Martha nodded and put her hand on Becky's. Then she chuckled softly and murmured: 

"Also nice. If I dream about him, at least I'll know it's only a dream."

"Not his cock there?"

"Don't remind me; your brother's, and he was dreaming that he was hiding it in you."

"Oooh! I hope he then did in you."

"Yes, but now let's try to go to sleep."

"Sweet dreams, anyway - any way. Good night."

"You too, 'any way'." 

They both chuckled softly. Martha's hand clasped Becky's around her breast, and they were silent, soon drifting off to sleep.

Sometime in during the night, Becky was stirred by feeling Martha's hips rock against her. Her hand had slipped down from Martha's breast, but found it again, holding it in a reflex. She only really awakened, when Martha hummed and then murmured: 

"Oh, just you, still nice," and her hand held Becky's.

She squeezed Martha's breast and asked softly: 

"Dreaming?"

"Um-hmm, about him."

"Boris? My brother?"

"Hmm! Mine!"

"Dreaming about your brother, ... like that, like this?"

"Hmm? I was."

"You want to with him?"

"If you do? Why not?"

"He would?"

"I don't know. I guess I have been thinking so."

"And you want him to?"

"Guess so. ... Oh, I do, to be very honest, want him to know what girls want."

"He doesn't?"

"Not if he's like the boys I have slept with."

"Hmm! Not like my brother or Boris?"

"Not like Boris.  Oh he knew how to do that - with you."

"But you don't think your brother does?"

"If he's like the others."

"And Norwegian girls don't?"

"Some must, but then the guys I knew could have suggested that I do."

"And you want to, with your brother?"

"Hmmm! Like I did with Boris. Hm-hmm! Another first time, for both of us."

"You really want to? Oh, and want him to do it to you, your brother?"

"Yours did; why not?"

"Hmm! After I went and jumped in his bed."

"Don't think I can do that, catch him in his bed; he now has a student room in Oslo."

"But alone there, better than at home."

"You want me to."

"If you were dreaming about him like that, like this."

"I did last week, too."

"Hm-hmm! Probably better than with me, now."

"Um-hmm."

"Yeah, Boris did it good. Oh, it was a little unfair; he did it to me both ways."

"But I got to do it to him. Thank you for letting me. Hmm? Kind of surprised me, that you did - and that I then wanted to so much - especially after having been trying to discourage you from talking about it."

"Why I let you. I wanted to, too, of course, but when you gave up, well, I thought you deserved to go first."

"Hmm! Yes, I gave up, and he sure didn't mind."

"Your brother won't either, if you can just get him to let you."

"I can't see it happening yet. Sleep?"

"Try to," Becky replied. 

They both rolled over and got comfortable again, now with Martha's arm around Becky, but not 

A little after dawn, Martha rolled back. When Becky didn't stir, she slipped out from under the covers and went to the bathroom, returning without flushing. Becky had rolled over and her eyes were open. She nodded and murmured that she also had to go. Martha waited for her to get up and then got in bed, moving over to make space for Becky. When she returned, Martha held up the covers, and Becky slipped under them. When their knees touched, Martha raised one, and Becky's slid under it. Martha murmured: 

"Sorry, if I woke you up."

"Not really."

They were silent for a while. Then the backs of Martha's fingers brushed Becky's stomach. When she nodded, Martha's hand slid up on her side, and Becky's knuckles brushed against Martha's stomach. She hummed very softly, and Becky's knuckles slid up to the start of Martha's breast, and her fingers rubbed a little. The backs of Becky's fingers rubbed up on Martha's breast, but not yet up to her nipple. Martha's fingers rubbed again, and then they both hummed softly, smiling slightly, but then Martha murmured: 

"That was too good yesterday. Well, not 'too good,' of course, just a reminder that of what we really like."

"Um-hmm. We're just doing the best we can by ourselves, also good." 

"Um-hmm, as good as they can that way."

"But more arousing to do - for me, anyway - knowing what it's feeling like for you."

"Oh yes, for me too. ... Do you think he will be able to come out and pick us up?"

"I sure hope so! Oh, if you don't mind my thinking ..., well, being so enthusiastic. Guess you know what I'm assuming."

"That we both will, that he'll want to with us both."

"Um-hmm."

"Hmm? I guess so. ... Oh, of course, if he can come out. Be kind of funny.  I never slept with anyone as much as with him, and not as good, but it wasn't just that."

Becky nodded, sliding her fingers down from Martha's breast, then murmured: 

"Making love?"

"Too much; we agreed on Saturday that we had great bundle of it. That was nice - real nice - that he immediately agreed that it was 'our' bundle."

"Don't have to tell your brother – I mean – I don't have to tell mine something like that, since he will always be my brother, just a much better one now."

"Lucky."

"Um-hmm. Maybe if you do with yours?"

"Hmm? Hasn't happened yet."

"Oh? Will that make it more difficult, if he can come out here?"

"I guess I was thinking about that. I hope not; I don't want it to."

"Whatever, however, you want."

"He has to come out here first. We still don't know if he will."

"Sure hope so - not like before - not looking forward to having one of my parents drive out, probably my father, I bet my brother wouldn't be looking forward to that either."

"No! Not after having barely escaped suggestions about what they thought we would do."

They both nodded with a chuckle, and Martha's fingers inadvertently tightened on Becky's side. In response, Becky rubbed Martha's chest with the backs of her fingers. Their overlapped knees twitched slightly, and slight smiles passed over their lips. When Becky's fingers slid again back up on Martha's breast, she murmured: 

"We could get up now and start breakfast."

"And just wait for him, if he can come out?"

"Hm-hmm! I don't think we could wait that long, ... just to prove we don't have to."

"We don't 'have to,' but if I want to? And, as I said, I do. And Boris didn't, for you."

Becky's fingers rubbed up further, the backs of them rippling over Martha's nipple, whose thighs twitched again.  Becky's thighs also twitched, and she murmured: 

"I want to. You don't have to; just for you, since he didn't."

Her fingers were rippling back and forth over Martha's now aroused nipple. Martha moaned softly, her thighs twitching again, and murmured: 

"If you really want to."

Becky's head disappeared under the covers, and her mouth found Martha's breast. She sighed deeply and rolled back. As Becky's head moved further down under the covers, Martha murmured: 

"I want to, too," and urged Becky to turn around on the bed. 

Becky nodded with a hum and did, letting Martha guide her knee over her, and then was straddling her, resting on her elbows as her lips brushed her hair and then slid down over the curve between her spread thighs, that rose to let it slide further, and then her tongue found her pussy. They both moaned as it slipped between her lips, finding a mouth as moist as her own as it gently explored her soft inner lips.

"Umm-hmmmmm!" Martha responded, as her hips rocked up against Becky's mouth, her pussy inviting her to do more: pussy lips kissing Becky's, wanting a good French kiss.

[Author's aside: Isn't French kissing a pussy better than kissing a mouth – for both persons?]

It sounded like it from Martha's and Becky's moans. Martha drew Becky's hips down on her face, and they both hummed, as their tongues lapped on something more sensitive than each other's tongue and somewhere that tasted better than saliva. When Becky's tongue searched further, Martha's hips rocked up, her thighs drawing up past Becky's shoulders, and her tongue found another sensitive spot. 

Martha nodded with a moan. Her tongue licked past Becky's wet opening. She curled her hips down and let it find her asshole, moaning when it did. They exchanged chuckling moans as their tongues aroused each other, and then they returned to where they knew it felt even more arousing. Then it was even more arousing, when first Becky's and then Martha's finger found where their tongues had been before, doing more than their tongues had on and then in each other's pulsing asshole. 

When their hips began to twitch, they clasped them firmer to their faces with aroused moans, and their thighs quivered. Then their tongues were making very wet, slobbering noises, as they both groaned, groaning again, as their tongues and fingers unrelentingly continued to move. 

Finally, Becky collapsed, lying heavily on Martha, their stomachs heaving against the other's, as their thighs relaxed: Martha's dropping down, Becky's sliding aside. Martha tilted her face back from between Becky's thighs and drew a long, deep breath and exhaled with a long, moaning sigh, and Becky moaned in response.

When she rolled off Martha, drawing her hips with her, Martha rolled with her, their heads resting on each other's thigh. After a few more moaning sighs. Martha murmured:

"Hi, good morning."

"Good morning. Haven't we said that yet?"

"I don't think so. It's been a very good morning, thank you."

"Um-hmm, very, thank you, too."

"So much for thinking we didn't want to."

"I did, ... even more when you then did."

"Like I did then."

"Um-hmm," they both agreed. Then Martha said: 

"I still want him to come out here, want to with him."

"Of course, you should."

"You too."

"If you both want me to? ... Of course, I want to, too."

"Crazy! Two girls agreeing that they want each other to sleep with one guy."

"Hmm? Hm-hmm! Very, but I'm only Becky, not a girlfriend.

"Hmm? Even worse!

They both chuckled, nodding on the other's thigh. After a moment, Becky replied: 

"That's what good about it, that I am 'only Becky' and know ... don't mind that he has girlfriends, can't mind that he does, ... especially you."

"Thanks, but not for long, no future."

"Hmmm? Like most 'boyfriends'."

"Hmm? Guess you are right; thought a couple were more like ... 'better', ... future."

"Sorry about that."

"No need to be; it wouldn't have been."

"Your brother?"

"Like yours, always there?"

"Not like this, or week before last, but somehow, however? Maybe also for you two. I hope you do."

"Hmm? Hmm? Shouldn't say it, but I hope we do too."

"I do too."

Martha nodded on Becky's thigh. After a moment, Becky murmured: 

"Nice that you have a brother."

Martha snorted and replied: 

"Two, but it seems that it would be easier with a sister."

"But we agreed that we really need a ..., well, 'brother'."

"Yours! Both of us." 

They chuckled again and then agreed they needed to wash. They got up and showered, washing each other, but not like the morning before and then made and ate a big breakfast, just joking about why they were both so hungry and wondering what they would do during the day. Then the phone rang, and they quickly exchanged glances as Becky hurried to answer it.

"Oh, hi, Mom," ... I was going to call you. We're just having breakfast. ... Yeah, we ate the rest of the meatloaf last night - real good. ... Yesterday? We read and then went swimming. ... No, no one we knew - I knew. Whose out here? ... Oh, I'll look out for them. ... 

"Yeah, we're having a fine time. Anything else? ... Oh, he wants to come out and get us? That would be nice ..."

Her nipples had popped out as she turned to smile at Martha - whose also had - as Becky continued:

"... and save you or Dad the drive out and back, ... On Friday evening already? Why not? Then we won't be alone on the weekend; that's good, ... and nice of him. ... He'll call. ... 

Yes, of course, she'll drive carefully. Maybe we should drive in once during the day, to practice. ... Of course, I know the way. ... If there isn't enough, he can go get some, or maybe take us to dinner. It's really only one dinner. ... Oh, thanks! That will be a treat. Thank you! ... Of course, we'll do the laundry, but there still a couple of days to remind us. ... Yes, we'll be careful, and love to you and Daddy, too."

She grinned at Martha again as she hung up, who was grinning back with aroused nipples, and hers were, too, as she returned to the table, still grinning, and said:

"Wow! He must have done that well with them. You'll get to, 'just to make sure.' Hm-hmm! I guess I don't have to tell you much, just to drive carefully."

Martha grinned again with a nod, and then the phone rang again. Becky raised her eyebrows with a smile and returned to answer it:

"Hi, good morning," ...

"Yeah, Mother just called and told me. That's great! ... We are too! You must have handled that perfectly. She thought it was a good idea for you to be on the weekend with us. Oh, and you can take us to dinner on Saturday." 

Becky clutched her thighs together as she replied:

"You must be alone. We want you to, too. ... And does she! 'Just to make sure', she said ... Hm-hmm! Of course, you can talk to your sister. ... Who was that, a girl? ... She must have gone away, if you said that. ... Hm-hmm! Um-hmm, like Eve, both of us. ... Hm-hmm! Just save it - for us both. ... Yes, I'll be a good girl, we're both being ... "Didn't you want us to? We did, do. ... Hm-hmm! This morning again. ... I'll tell her. ... Yeah, call again on Friday when you know when you'll be here," ...

"You too, from your you-know-what-kind-of sister."

She hung up the phone again and grinned at Martha, who was smiling at her, but raised her eyebrows questioningly as she returned to the table, and then asked:

"What kind of sister?"

She blushed as her nipples stood out again and she hesitated, rubbing them as she sat back down, but still blushing as she started to reply - and they popped back up before she did:

"Oh, it sounds really wicked now; he used a couple of adjectives to describe me, ... well, I guess 'best' is an adverb, and I told him what kind of a brother he was."

Martha snickered and then laughed, saying:

"I can imagine; especially if you don't want to repeat them."

She grinned with a nod, and added, 

"We also joked about my being ... acting like my own sister."

Martha snickered again with a grin and replied:

"Oh, that's good. I shouldn't have asked."

"That's all right. I probably shouldn't have said it ... to him on the phone."

"Oooh, it's really going to happen!" I better drive real carefully. I think I'll be all aroused."

"I hope so, and me, too, but you can go first, ... - Hm-hmm! - and come first!"

"Hm-mmm! I want him to, ... and you know how!"

"Um-hmm!"

"We better stop this and clean up."

"Um-hmm."

They did and then decided to go down on the beach till lunch. Since the waves were stronger, Becky suggested that they wear one-piece suits. Martha snickered as she agreed, telling that her bikini had once slipped out of place in Norway, but that it had been with only a few friends, "and had been sort of nice, but I wouldn't want it to happen here." 

She snickered. When they were on the beach, she explained:

"Yes, real nice. In the evening with a fire on the beach - and beer - we did it. We hadn't before - weren't going together, till after that - but the others were, and I guess they did, too."

"All around the fire?!"

"No, we all ended up moving away - in couples - behind the rocks. Around the fire, of course, they were all getting a little closer, and we were left over, and getting closer, too, and when the others started to disappear ..., well, you can imagine, ... it was pretty suggestive, ... and about the only thing to do, ... and we wanted to - and knew each other from years together at school."




Martha in America Ch. 13



"Oh, just like that? ... And what was it like when you all got back together again? Knowing you all had done it? That must been sort of ... funny."

"Maybe a little, but no one really knew if the others had, ... or maybe they hadn't, ... and if they had, and knew that some of the others had already been sleeping together ... Oh, I guess you were right, for us - for me - it was a little embarrassing, since they all knew that we hadn't been dating before, ... but then we did - for the rest of the summer - so no one was later thinking that we had just done it, ... - what do you call it: 'a one night stand'?"

"Yeah, I guess that makes it better - in the presence of the others."

"Um-hmm, something like that."

Becky explained to Martha that she also had thought it better that they not wear their bikinis because her mother had told her that a couple of families they knew were on the island, and then told her who they were, in case they met them. 

They were walking away from where most of the houses were and then left their towels on the beach and went in the water. After they had been swimming for a few minutes and were again standing in water up to their shoulders, Becky snickered and said:

"One night, we went skinny dipping, you know, with nothing on. It's against the law out here. Hm-hmm! "You know what happens to him - to boys - in the cold water."

Martha looked at her with a grin, nodding, and replying:

"All small."

"Yeah. Oh, of course you would, but I was real surprised, ... and that it could get that small."

Martha nodded again with a snicker and agreed:

"I was, too, that first time in the mountains. I really hadn't looked at him before - before we went in the water - but I was just as surprised afterwards as you probably were. Hm-hmm! And he was a little embarrassed about it ... or just that I was looking at him, more than before."

"Hm-hm-hmm! I bet he was, ... if you were looking like I would have been. ... But you warmed it up for him?"

"Hm-hmm! Not the first time, but ..., well, ... it did a little later, ... - Hm-hmm! - and then I was surprised, too."

"Hm-hmmm! I can imagine how!"

"Um-hmm, a lot bigger than I expected."

"Um-hmm."

Then Martha nodded towards the shore, and they swam back towards their towels, again seeing that two pairs of young men had settle near them. As they walked out of the water, she asked Martha:

"Do we need them?"

"I don't think so. Oh, and especially not if friends of your family are around."

"Oh, yeah. Want to see what happens, anyway?"

"Okay, if you want to. Oh, if they do - one pair will make a first move - we can listen to them and then just say: 'sorry, we've got to go,' and the other two will be pleased that they didn't make the first move."

They both chuckled and went to their towels, drying themselves and then sitting down so that they weren't favoring either pair.

"Hi, where you from?" one finally called.

Becky glanced at Martha, who just shook her head slightly, and they ignored his question, but his friend then called:

"Can we join you?"

After a moment, Martha glanced over and looked at them, and then after another moment replied:

"I don't think so, we're going soon."

"Oh, you're not from here. Where do you come from?"

"Norway."

"Oh, that's nice. ... Are all the girls there as good looking as you are?"

Martha started to blush but then after a moment replied:

"Probably better, ... and the boys are better looking ... than you are."

The boys were silent. Becky tried to repress a grin as she glanced at Martha, who did grin, too, as she looked back out at the ocean and murmured: 

"Don't do anything."

Becky looked out at the ocean with her, snorting softly.

"But they're not here," the other one called over.

"And we're not, either," Martha replied and started to get up.

"Where you going?" 

"That is none of your business."

Becky then also got up, and they shook the sand out of their towels.

"Pity," one of them replied.

"Not for us," Martha responded, and then the two of them went down to the moist sand and walked back along the shoreline.

"Oh, that was good!" Becky remarked.

"I thought so too. I liked that, about the Norwegian boys; that just came to me as I was saying it."

"That got them. Are they?"

"Not all of them, but better than those two."

"That would be easy."

"Um-hmm."

"Uh, ... what would you have done if they had become more ... insistent?"

"Oh, it occurred to me that we could ask the other two to tell them that we didn't want to be disturbed."

"Hm-hmm! Yeah, like you said before, seeing that the others hadn't gotten anywhere, they would have been please to 'come to our protection.' ...  They looked nicer, anyway."

"Probably why they didn't say anything first."

"Um-hmm. Oh, that was good. I wouldn't have thought of that, putting them down with your response to his compliment. ... That was a 'line'."

"A 'line'?"

"A ... 'line'? Like in the theater, something he had learned to say, ... but not a bad one."

"Hm-umm. I felt myself blushing at the compliment, even though I didn't want to.

"You sure fielded it well."

" 'Fielded it'?"

Oh, that's a baseball expression: you caught it, like an outfielder in baseball."

"Oh, yes, on television; and then it's an 'out', the batter is 'out'."

"Yeah! And he was 'out', ... after you told him that the boys back home were better looking."

"I'm learning something too."

"But not as much as I am, like yesterday."

"Hmm! Sure seemed like you said everything to get what you ..., what we wanted."

"Um-hmm, hope you didn't mind."

"Hm-hmm! That should have been obvious!"

They chuckled, then Martha remarked: 

"Oh, that was sweet - my being an au pair for your brother! I sort of was: putting him to bed every night - hm-hm-hmm! Well, for a week."

"Um-hmm! And for me, too!"

"No, you took me to bed - his. But that's unfair - sorry - I wanted to. And I took him to my bed - the first night - telling him I would be in my room. We both had to go to the bathroom."

"Oh, like that? That was a pretty obvious invitation."

"I guess so. Yes, it was, but I hadn't thought about its being one when I said it; I was just wanting him to know that I wasn't going to come back, ... but, of course, it was invitation."

"I'll remember that, ... if I ever get in the same situation."

Martha glanced back.

"Are they following us?"

"I don't think so, but maybe we shouldn't go straight back to the house."

"Um-hmm. ... Oh, we can go to one of our friends' house, who are out here. Mom would like that, too, and if they're there, say hello, and if they aren't - and the guys have been following us, at least mislead them."

"Good idea, ... being careful. I wouldn't want them to surprise our sunbathing."

"That's for sure!"

Becky said that the nearest house was back in the other direction, so they turned up from the shore and walked back towards. They couldn't see if the guys had really followed them, but agreed that going back - and away from their place - would at least confuse them, suggesting that they had been trying to lead them astray from the start. Then it occurred to Becky that her choice had been a good one, since the house belonged to a couple with no children who could want they join them for the following days, and Martha remembered that she had met the wife when Becky's mother hosted the bridge circle. 

The couple was at home, and pleased that they had called, immediately offering them something to drink, apologizing that they didn't have pop in the house, offering to make iced tea. While the water was coming to a boil, the wife insisted on showing them the house, and then while making the tea, suggested that they could stay for lunch - "just sandwiches." They did, and the husband seemed to enjoy having two young girls there, teasing them a little about turning the heads of the boys on the beach, but changing the subject after glance from his wife. When they had finished eating, the girls suggested that they would be leaving. The wife glanced at her husband and then asked if they wanted to come for dinner the next evening. When they at first demurred, saying that that wasn't necessary, she insisted, and they agreed, asking at what time. She said they usually ate about eight o'clock, but then suggested that they eat earlier so that girls wouldn't have to walk home in the dark, but then he suggested that he could drive them the short distance, so they all agreed that they would be there at eight. They thanked for the lunch and the invitation to dinner and said goodbye and that they would go home by the road, and were shown out the front door.

"That was nice," Martha remarked.

"And worked out perfectly. Good thing we weren't wearing our bikinis, especially you, yours."

"Um-hmm, but he would have liked that."

"But she wouldn't have, and would have told my mother, and he might have noticed that you don't have tan line where he might have been looking for one."

"Um-hmm, you're right, and that the boys couldn't either."

They walked in silence for while, and then Becky asked:

"I wonder if she will call and tell my mother? ... Probably, but that will be good, real good, that we called on them, especially them. I don't think they could have children. But that worked out well, too, if not for the reason my mother would like, that I had picked up on her indirect suggestion that we should meet other people out here."

"Um-hmm. ... Oh, ... maybe we shouldn't mention that your brother is coming out, or she'll insist that we all come for dinner on Saturday, too."

"Yeah, maybe, you're right, she could. But if she does talk to Mom, she will probably tell her, ... or she will later her tell her, if we made up a story."

"Yes, that could be difficult. We'll just have to wait and see. Maybe she won't, ... maybe they have something else planned."

"I hope so, ... like we do," and she snorted with a glance over at Martha.

"Do we?" she replied as she glanced back with a smirk.

"But if he took us out for dinner, it would be about the same: having to get dressed, ... and the time."

"Um-hmm, but now he won't, since we have the food from tomorrow."

"More reason for wanting them not to invite us again. Hurry, I've got to go."

They walked on quickly, and in the house, Becky was starting to take off her bathing suit as she hurried to the bathroom, glancing at the tub, but then using the toilet as she kicked it off her feet. Martha joined her, taking hers off, too, as she waited for her to finish, and then sat down with a little smile as she went.

"A beer?" Becky suggested.

"Um-hmm. Oh, I'll rinse out our suits."

"Thanks," and she put hers in the sink and went to the kitchen, returning with the opened cans as Martha was wringing them out. She waited while she hung them on the shower curtain rod and dried her hands and then offered her one, saying:

"Here's looking at us, skaal,"

"Skaal," Martha replied with snort and smile, and they drank, smiling at each other again.

"They'd love to see us now."

"I do, too," and Martha looked at her, and Becky's nipples stood out as she agreed:

"I do, too," and looked back, at Martha's, staring until they also moved, and then asked:

"Where are our shirts?"

"Maybe we should make his bed first."

"Yeah."

They did, snickering a little as they shared tucking in the bottom sheet and spreading out the top one and the bedspread, but neither suggested that that was unnecessary, so they finished and picked up their cans and went and found their - his - shirts and the suntan lotion, and went out the deck with their towels, going back to find their books, and then settling down, taking off the shirts and then enjoying spreading the lotion on each other.

For a while, they read and sipped at their beers, and then finished them and rolled over with their eyes closed. As the sun moved around, they reoriented their towels and themselves to it and read some more. Becky finished her book and moved her towel again, lying down on her back and then, after a moment, drawing her thighs up and opening them to the now lower sun, and then letting them drop further to the side, sighing softly as the sun shown warm on them and her pussy. Martha glanced up from her book, and then down at her spread thighs and snorted slightly, but then returned to her book without saying anything.

When she had finished the chapter, she sat up, looking out at the beach for a few moments, and then moved her towel and lay down like Becky was, raising her hips once to let them slip a little further, and then her knee touched hers, resting against it. Becky's moved slightly in recognition of the contact, and she murmured:

"Nice, isn't it? All warm."

Hm-hmm! Um-hmm, like a hot bath."

"Oh? I always shower. Really?"

"Um-hmm."

"Really? Nice. I'll have try that. I never thought of that. ... Hm-hmm! I'm pretty good at washing it. ... Hm-hmm! But I never thought of doing it under water. ... Have you?"

"Um-hmm."

Becky's thighs twitched.

"Really! Is it better?"

"Not really, ... but once you've done it, ... well, it's liking going in the shower, you tend to do it again, ... if you have time. At home, my brother and I share a shower - not like we do - so I don't often use my parents' tub, only when no one is at home, and then not to just do it."

"Hm-hmm! ... But do, if you do?"

"I guess so. When I don't have enough time, then I'm taking a shower anyway."

"Of course."

"Hm-hmm! In Europe, most showers are on a hose - from the - what do you call it? Where the water comes out?"

"The spigot?"

"Yes, 'the spigot' - instead of fixed on the wall. Oh, there's a hook that you can hang it on, but you can also hold it and rinse yourself off that way. Hm-hmm! And that feels good, too."

"Oh? ... On your ...?"

"Um-hmm."

"Oooh, I can imagine!"

"Um-hmm, but it takes longer than a shower should, ... and to really do it, you have to use both hands ..."

"Hm-hm-hmm!"

"... and if it gets that good, it's kind of hard to stand up."

"I bet! Weak knees."

"Um-hmm!"

"Hm-hm-hmm! All quivering ..." and Becky's twitched again: "... if it gets that good! And you want it to!" 

"Um-hmm. Oh, once I was doing it, and my brother called to ask why I was taking so long, and I had to stop and quickly wet my hair and said that I had been washing it."

"Hm-hmm! That was clever."

"But warned me to be careful."

"Um-hmm. That's disappointing, having to stop, ... and embarrassing, ... like once when my mother came in my room after we'd said goodnight and I thought I would be undisturbed. But that was before - before with him - and I didn't know how good it could be."

"I didn't either, before - with him - but maybe better than you knew. I hope so, having already done it with a couple of boys."

"Me, too. I mean, I hope you did. Even if it was better with him, I wouldn't want to think that really doing it wasn't better than what we can do."

"It is, ... well, usually."

"I hope so."

For a while, they were silent, letting the sun shine on them between their legs. Becky was almost dozing when Martha's knee suddenly twitched down on hers.

"What were you thinking about?"

"... Hmm? ... I don't know if I should tell you."

"About him?"

"Which 'him'?"

"My brother? Your brother? ... The guy yesterday?"

"Hm-umm."

"Who then?"

"I won't tell you."

"Maybe not a 'him'?"

"Hm-umm."

"You can tell me. Hm-hmm! We're sisters in sex."

"We sure are!"

Becky rolled over and looked at her:

"Then tell me."

Martha looked over at her and then snorted and smiled slightly and replied:

"The people we visited."

"Him!?"

"Um-hmm. I was sort of dozing - dreaming a little, I guess - and after his comments - what he might like to do. I guess, remembering what you had said about them. Hm-hmm! I was surprised, myself, ... but he's nice ..."

"But so old ..."

"... but not too old not to think about it. ... And I guess I did."

"Like that?! Your knee twitching?"

"Did it? ... Well, not like that, in my dream - hm-hmm. But he was there."

"And you would ... with such an older man?"

"I didn't, ... we didn't, ... and he was just there ... with his clothes on."

"Oh. ... Don't think about that tomorrow."

"I'd better not."

"I'll say so! And I'd better not, too!"

They smiled at each other, and Martha reached across herself with her hand and fondled Becky's breast, and they both watched her nipple become aroused as Martha's fingers played with it. With a pleased sounding chuckle, Becky slid her thigh over Martha's still spread one and looked back at her face as Martha's fingers continued, snorting softly as she reached over and found Martha's already aroused nipple, and then asked softly:

"Want me to kiss you?"

"I was wanting to kiss your breast."

"With suntan lotion?"

"I hadn't thought about that."

"We can do something about it."

"Um-hmm, ... but if you want to kiss me ..."

She rolled down over Martha, her thigh sliding down between hers, and they did, Martha's thighs holding hers as their kiss got better - a lot better - as their thighs drew up against each other and clutched together.

"Not out here, whatever we do," Martha whispered.

"Um-hmm," she agreed reluctantly and rolled back onto her side as her hand found Martha's breast again.

"Shower?" Martha asked.

"You want to, now?"

"It won't go away. It gets better the longer you wait for it - have to wait for it."

"I'm not sure. ... Oh, if you had to wait all winter for it, it must have been good, then."

"It was!"

Martha grinned, and then Becky sat up. Then Martha could, each finding her shirt and putting it on, and they went back into the house and did shower, this time like the previous morning, but this time between kisses they were talking:

"That was good, this morning, doing it to you," ...

"And to you," ... "I just love that, knowing I'm making it so good." ...

"Um-hmm, me, too." 

"And having you do it." 

"Um-hmm," ... " and like that. It doesn't seem raunchy any more, ..."

"Hm-umm," ... "Just something we like to do." ...

"And to feel, ... Oooh yes! Like that!" ... "Maybe it is raunchy." ...

"Mm-uhnnn! Maybe ..."  "But if we like it?"

"We do." ...

"Um-hmm, ... Uhmm! ... Legs." ...

"Last kiss, legs."

"Nice legs, ... this one, too."

"Yours are nice, too."

"I love to have my head between yours."

"Me, too, - your head between mine, and mine between yours."

"Oooh, yes! There!"

"You liked that?"

"Um-hmm, but not as much as your head, - your mouth."

"I like that better, too."

"Me, too. I just love to lick your pussy. Oh! Don't tickle!"

"Sorry! You almost hit me with your knee."

"Sorry, but it was your own fault. That's better. Oooh, yes! Come back up and kiss."  ...

"Unnn! Un-hnn," ...

"Un-hnn," ... "We are raunchy." ...

"Un-hnn. Turn off the water. We're going to make the bed real wet."

And they did, their fingers finding again where they had been rubbing as fast as their mouths found the other's pussy, that wasn't just wet from their shower, their tongues not waiting to find a mutual rhythm as they eagerly sought to arouse each other's most sensitive spot, knowing from the other's effort that that was what she also wanted: to be aroused as soon and as much as possible. And they did, coming all wet in each other's face as their fingers probed in the clutching hold of their aroused assholes until they both ceased their aroused moans and movements, just lying gasping and hugging each other, still curled up together, holding each other's head between their now relaxed thighs.

Finally, they extended their legs, freeing each other's head and both sighing.

"God, we wanted that, ... just like that."




Martha in America Ch. 13



"Um-hmm, just like that, no waiting, wanting that, too," and she wiggled her finger tip, that was still resting on her asshole."

"Um-hmm, ..." she replied, doing the same: "... raunchy enough, thank you, if you know what I mean."

"Um-hmm, I don't want to either."

They wiped their fingers in each other's cleft.

"Hm-umm? Maybe we wanted it so fast because we haven't all day."

"Maybe. Maybe that was the longest time we haven't done it."

"You think so?"

"It seems like it, maybe not counting the night hours."

"It does - maybe including them - since this morning till now, more than eight hours."

"We've been real good girls all day,"

"You think so?"

"Of course, not talking to strange men, calling on my parents' friends; things we can tell about."

"For a change ..."

"Um-hmm."

Martha sat up, and she moved up onto the pillow as they looked at each other, one and then the other smiling. Then Martha said:

"I wonder what I'm going to think about this when I get home."

"Me, too, ... for me, that you're the best au pair we've ever had."

"Hm-hmm! I guess so, ... thanks."

"And what are you going to think?"

"I don't know, ... maybe that being an au pair can be a mind-broadening experience."

"That's good."

"Um-hmm, I hope so."

"Me, too," and she reached up towards Martha's breast, and she - with a chuckle - leaned forward so that she could touch it, her nipple stiffening before her fingers did, and her head dropped as she watched her fingers fondled it for a few moments, and then murmured: 

"There was something I wanted to do out on the deck," and leaned further down, extending her legs and lying with her mouth on Becky's breast, sucking and licking her aroused nipple while she continued to fondle her and murmured:

"Mmmm, you know how good that feels," and Martha nodded slightly as her hand slid up and found Becky's other breast, and they aroused each other again.  Becky's knee urged Martha to let it slid under her thigh, up against her pussy, and Martha pressed it to her, and after a few moments pulled herself a little higher up, still sucking on her breast, and rolled her pelvis up so Becky could press her knee up between her thighs. After a moment, with her hands, she urged Martha to move further up, and she did, Becky's thigh sliding deeper between hers as she drew herself up, lying half on her as their mouths met and opened to let their tongues find each other as she raised her thigh up against Martha's pussy and hugged her, and then let one hand slide down to hold her ass.

And then they kissed for a long time, as though that were all they wanted to do, but Martha's hips were rocking, rubbing her pussy on Becky's thigh as she moaned softly, until Becky whispered:

"What do you want to do? What do you want me to do?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to let me do it to you, let me taste your wonderful, juicy, aroused pussy ..."

"It is!" and she clutched her thighs together on her leg.

"... and enjoy making it even more so - but nice and slowly - until you give me all your sweet pussy juice. I just love that!"

"And I do, too. Show me how you want to do it," Martha agreed and kissed her again, letting Becky thrust her tongue in her mouth and then sucking and caressing it, and then hers was in Becky's mouth, and then she murmured:

"Oh yes, if you want to, if you will let me, too."

Without waiting for a reply, Martha started to turn around, straddling her, and then lowering her hips and moving back towards her head, her pussy all open and aroused as Becky guided her. But then when Martha leaned down, lowering her face between her thighs, Becky realized that she need to hold her head up, and boxed her pillow together under her head, and then urged Martha to move further back as she pushed herself back with her heels until her head was against the headboard, and then she drew Martha's hips closer, and she lowered her face again.

They both sighed as their mouths found each other's aroused, moist pussy, and then sighed again at what the other one was doing, and then encouraged each other with appreciative little moans and muffled chuckles as they played with each other's pussy: just a tongue tip fluttering on the one's inner lips, or a long lick the length of the other's with the full width of her tongue; and then doing what the other one had done; then exploring past their pussies a little, first one and then the other, then a little further, and Becky raised her head to explore further and drew her thighs back to let Martha explore further, as she found Martha's asshole with her tongue, and then Martha's tongue found hers, both of them doing all they could there for a few moments, but then sliding their tongues back into each other's pussy, and then it was like the other times when they found a common pattern and rhythm, both of them seeming to want to prolong their pleasure for as long as possible. 

But then they seemed not to be able to wait any longer to have each other's love juice - or to give it - their hips moving as though they were asking for more, and then their thighs twitching in anticipation, and then quivering as they came with pulsing groans, giving each other their pussy juice. Martha had to snort her nose free of Becky's. Martha's spurted on Becky's tongue and in her mouth. She gulped, swallowing, and her thighs clutched together and held Martha's head still. They gasped and relaxed, Martha lying heavy on Becky.

After a long moment, Martha slid her feet back and shoved herself down the bed till her legs were extended and rolled off Becky, who rolled towards her They both embraced the other's legs and lay there in silence.

After many minutes, one of them stirred and then murmured a soft "Oh," and then rubbed the other's legs. "Oh, ... yes," the other responded as she apparently recalled how they had gotten in that position, and held the other's legs a little tighter. 

"Um-hmm."

"Um-hmm, that's what we wanted to let each other do."

"It sure was, thank you, just like that."

"Yes, just like that. Thank you, too."

"I didn't do anything that you didn't do."

"Hm-umm, that was what is so good."

"That we liked to do it as much as we like to have it done?"

"Um-hmm, ... 'just like that,' the Golden Rule."

"Oh, that's nice, ... that makes it all right then, if we're living by the Golden Rule."

"Hm-hmm! If you want to think so."

"Don't you? It was your suggestion."

"We'll have to ask him."

"He'll probably think so; it was sort of his idea."

"Um-hmm, ... and likes girls who do."

"Um-hmm. Does living by the Golden Rule make us good enough to deserve another beer?"

"If you ask me: yes."

They both snickered and sat up, grinning at each other, and then got up.

"But first, I think we better let the bed dry out."

"Um-hmm, yeah; two wet girls ... and wet orgasms!" 

"Very!"

Martha started to strip the sheet off the bed. Becky picked up the pad and took it to the chairs in her parents' room while Martha draped the sheet between the foot of the bed and the chair, and then they met in the kitchen and got two beers from the refrigerator. After a skaal, they agreed that they could start making supper - frozen minute steaks and frozen vegetables - agreeing that they didn't need any potatoes, and went about fixing the meal.

The telephone's ringing suddenly startled them. Becky glanced at Martha before she ran to answer it, her breasts bobbling with each step.

"Oh, hi Mom. What's up. ... Really?! She called you? ... Oh, that's nice. We thought it was, too. ... Yeah, they invited us for dinner tomorrow. ... Oh? ... Yeah, that was good of you, but nice of her to suggest it. ... Thanks, but if we eat with them tomorrow, we should have enough for the three of us here."  

Her nipples had stiffened and stayed so as she listened.

"Um-hmm, we're being careful. Martha was clever about discouraging a guy today, on the beach. ... Of course not. ... Yes, we think so, too. It's nice that he can come out. He said he would call and tell when he will be coming. ... Oh, we're just making dinner - the minute steaks. ...  Yeah, if he wants dinner on Friday, then maybe we will have to go out. Thanks. ... Yes, we're being careful. You want to talk to her? ..." 

She beckoned to Martha as she replied: "Here." Martha hurried to join her, her nipples stiff as she took the phone.

"Hello. ... Yes, of course. ... Of course not." ... We're getting along fine, thank you. And thank you for letting me come out here." ...

"And greetings to him, too. Bye."

She hung up the phone and smiled at Becky as they both rubbed their still arouse nipples, and Martha said:

"Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned my discouraging the guys, but I think she isn't too concerned. At least, she seems now to like that he is joining us."

"We do, too."

"Hm-hmm! Um-hmm."

"She said that he could still take us out to dinner - Oh! - and that her friend had called and also suggested that all three of us might come for dinner on Saturday, but she told her that that would be too much. Isn't that great, her settling our problem?"

Um-hmm, yes, the best solution."

They smiled at each other and went back to fixing their dinner.

They had another beer with their dinner - in glasses - and discussed what they should wear the next evening, deciding that shorts would not be appropriate with the older couple and agreeing to wear dresses. And then they wondered what they should do the next day, not coming to any conclusion, and then what they could do that evening, leaving the subject with Becky's: "Oh, let's just watch TV."

After they had cleaned up in the kitchen, they did, finding a program that they both agreed was interesting, sitting together on the towel on the sofa - comfortably close. When Martha got up to find and light the candles again, she got the blanket, and they joined each other again under it, snickering a little as they tucked it in around themselves. When the program ended, they watched to late news, but Becky was almost asleep with her head resting on Martha's shoulder.  When the news had finished, Martha joggled her and suggested that they go to bed.

"Um-hmm," she agreed sleepily.

"Whose?"

"Oh? Yeah, his is wet."

Each our own? Hm-hmm! Another first time."

They chuckled, but Becky scowled, then smirked and remarked: 

"I don't like 'first times' any more."

"Just so that we can tell him we tried not to do it every night."

"We didn't last night – hm-hmm! - but then this morning. But, okay, we can try." 

"Maybe dream about him."

Whom? Which 'him'? Boris, my brother? Oh, or you can dream about him, like you were on the deck."

"Hmm! Rather your brother."

"Hm-hmm! But if I do, too? Can he be in both our dreams?"

"If he dreams about both of us?"

"Oh, that would be funny, good!"

They had gotten up and turned off the TV and taken the candles and their glasses to the kitchen They agreed that they had to go to the bathroom, and did, in the dark, and then found their way to their rooms, saying goodnight, chuckling as one and then the other added: "Sweet dreams."



Martha in America Ch. 14



After they had cleaned up in the kitchen, they did, finding a program that they both agreed was interesting, sitting together on the towel on the sofa - comfortably close. When Martha got up to find and light the candles again, she got the blanket, and they joined each other again under it, snickering a little as they tucked it in around themselves. When the program ended, they watched the late news, but Becky was almost asleep with her head resting on Martha's shoulder. When the news had finished, Martha joggled her and suggested that they go to bed.

"Um-hmm," she agreed sleepily.

"Whose?"

"Oh? Yeah, his is wet."

Each our own? Hm-hmm! Another first time."

They chuckled, but Becky scowled, then smirked and remarked: 

"I don't like 'first times' any more."

"Just so that we can tell him we tried not to do it every night."

"We didn't last night -- hm-hmm! - but then this morning. But, okay, we can try." 

"Maybe dream about him."

Whom? Which 'him'? Boris, my brother? Oh, or you can dream about him, like you were on the deck."

"Hmm! Rather your brother."

"Hm-hmm! But if I do too? Can he be in both our dreams?"

"If he dreams about both of us?"

"Oh, that would be funny, good!"

They had gotten up and turned off the TV and taken the candles and their glasses to the kitchen They agreed that they had to go to the bathroom, and did, in the dark, and then found their way to their rooms, saying goodnight, chuckling as one and then the other added: "Sweet dreams." 

Becky was lying on her stomach when she woke up in the early morning, recognizing that she was in her own room in the family's house on Fire Island, as so many times in the past. It was a few moments before she recalled that she wasn't there with her family, that she was there alone with Martha, then immediately recalling all they had done with each other, and then surprised that they weren't together in bed. It took another moment before she remembered why not. 

She smiled wryly to herself, but then recognized why she had woken up; she had to go to the bathroom. She got up. Before she went there, she peeked in at Martha, seeing that she was still sleeping. She tried to make no noise in the bathroom, not flushing, but wondering if she wanted to do what she had often done in the past when she woke up early, then wondering if that would be inappropriate - just doing it by herself. 

Still undecided, as she started to return to her room, she was surprised to see Martha coming from hers. She smiled and remarked: 

"Have to go, too."

Becky nodded, returning her smile, and went back to her bed, deciding that it would be inappropriate, unfair, but then wondering if Martha also masturbated when she woke up, when she wasn't in bed with someone, but hadn't she said that she had only spent the whole night with her brother and her? She waited to hear Martha flush, her eyes closed. When she heard it, she nodded slightly. 

A few moments later, she was surprised when the covers moved, but pleasantly surprised, pleased that she hadn't started arousing herself. She moved to make space for Martha, who slipped under the covers, facing her. Their arms went around each other as they let their thighs overlap from habit, both agreeing with an "um-hmm." Martha murmured: 

"Funny, a little, waking up alone in bed."

"Um-hmm. Took me a moment to remember that the whole family wasn't here."

"Hmm! Good thing they aren't!"

"Very!"

"Um-hmm. Good morning."

"You too. Sleep well?"

"Um-hmm, thank you. You, too?"

"Um-hmm. Hm-hmm! Any dreams?" 

"I don't think so. You?"

"Don't think so either," Becky agreed. 

"Hmm? Why do you -- and others -- say "either," - with a long "i" - and some people say "eether?"

"Hmm? Oh, someone said that Queen Victoria said it with a long "i," since in German "e-i" would be pronounced that way. She was German."

"Makes sense, people copying the Queen's pronunciation. Oh, probably why the British say "shedule" instead of "schedule," with "sk." "S-c-h" in German are like "s-h" in English."

"Didn't know that, but it makes sense."

"Um-hmm, so people in America who say "either" and "neither" with a long "i" are royalists?"

"Not any more, but maybe they once were; that pronunciation is more common up here in the Northeast."

"New England, closer to the old country."

"Maybe, once, not my family."

Martha nodded and for a while they lay in silence in their loose embrace, their eyes closing. Then Becky's eyes fluttered and opened again, and she asked:

"What do we want to do?"

"I don't know ... When?"

"Today."

"Oh, ... I thought you meant right now. We can go swimming, - Hm-mmm! - and see what happens, ... or read. ... I don't know."

" 'And see what happens,' ... Hm-hmm! ... What do we want to happen?"

"Nothing we can't tell about, ... this evening."

"I guess not. ... Nothing?" Becky asked.

"Hm-hmm! Well, ... I guess something that we can."

"Can do, or can tell about?"

They were silent, looking at each other, looking in each other's eyes, for so long that they both blinked a couple of times. Then Becky asked softly:

"And what did you think, ... if you thought I meant 'right now'"?

"Hmm? About the only thing that I could think that you might mean."

"Yeah, I guess so, ... but I wasn't ... until I just asked you. ... We don't have to."

They looked in each other's eyes again for a moment, and then Martha agreed:

"No, we don't have to," but she rubbed her hand on Becky's back. The corners of Becky's mouth rose slightly, and her fingers moved on Martha's back.

"No, we don't have to," Martha repeated, this time emphasizing "have."

"Hm-umm," Becky agreed, but her hand slid down to Martha's waist.

"Hm-umm," Martha responded. 

It could have sounded as though she was objecting to what the movement of Becky's hand suggested, but her fingers rubbing again indicated that she was just repeating what Becky had murmured, especially when her thighs twitched. Becky's thighs squeezed Martha's, but she repeated what Martha had said: 

"No, we don't have to," Becky repeated Martha's last words, but her hand slid further, and her thumb found the soft place above the corner of Martha's hipbone, rubbing slightly. 

When Martha's thighs twitched again, she snorted softly with a slight smile, and her fingers then also crept down towards Becky's waist. Becky also smiled, her thumb continuing to rub, and murmured: 

" We can just talk about it."

"If you want to."

"Um-hmm. This is nice. Even if we just talk, mine are all stiff."

"Hm-hmm! Mine too."

"Nice."

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed, and her hand moved, her thumb finding the same place inside Becky's hipbone. Their thighs clamped together. Becky murmured: 

"Doesn't it feel good, when they are sucked? I just love to suck yours."

"And yours, too."

"Mmmm!" Feels so good, and to do it, sucking and licking, nibbling on your stiff nipple."

"Hm-hmmm! Like on yours."

Their thighs clasped together again, and their thumbs rubbed a little closer toward the other's pussy. Their thighs opened a little and drew up, and their hands urged their hips to roll closer, and then their hips clasped again. They both hummed and nodded slightly. Martha smirked and remarked: 

"Better keep talking."

"Um-hmm, hm-hmm! But kissing is better, not just knowing that it's feeling good for you, but feeling you make it feel good for me too." 

"Um-hmm! Feeling your tongue, ... our tongues wanting to feel each other."

They both licked their lips, grinning, and their thighs twitched together. Becky nodded and murmured: 

"But not as good as kissing somewhere else. That tastes so arousing."

"Not just tastes so arousing."

"Hm-umm!"

"But a good way to start," Martha replied and licked her lips.

They rolled closer, and their mouths - and immediately their tongues - found each other. After a few moments, Becky rolled back, drawing Martha with her. Martha raised her head over hers so that they could kiss even better, and did for a while, but then Martha moved her head down to find Becky's breast, immediately sucking and licking her stiff nipple. Becky moaned and dug her heels in the mattress and moved down the bed, urging Martha to move up and over her, so that she could also find her breast with her mouth. Martha understood, moving herself around with her calves on the pillow as Becky move further down the bed until Martha could move over her, so that Becky could find her breast, sucking on her nipple, and then tonguing it as it hung free over her mouth until Martha lowered herself, pressing it into her mouth, both of them humming as their mouths sucked and nibbled, fondling each other's other breast, and then finding it with their mouths. 

Then Martha moved straight down over becky, her tongue licking a wet path from her breast down to her hair as she lay flat on her, and then they rolled to the side and drew their thighs up under each other's head as they clasped each other's hips to their faces.

Much - much! - later, they both gasped a last time and relaxed finally, sighing together with long moans, as they freed each other's head.

"Maybe we did have to do it," one of them finally murmured.

"Maybe. We certainly wanted to."

"Um-hmm, and how!"

"Twice, ... and like that again, ... so good."

"Uhmmm! Um-hmm, till I could hardly bear it, wanting you to finally let me come ... but then still wanting more, again."

"Me, too. We just do it too good, knowing what we each want."

"Um-hmm, ... just 'too good,' ... but ... I guess we should be able to do it like that better than he can."

"Um-hmm - Hm-hmm! - of course, but I guess we better not tell him."

"Maybe, ... or maybe if we did, he could too."

"Hm-hmm! Maybe. I hope so, ... but I can't see us trying to tell him ..."

"Hm-hmm! Or show him, but then he still wouldn't know; ... have to tell him." 

"Hmm? Just maybe. Shower?"

They showered, less intimately than some times before, but washing each other just as thoroughly and then drying themselves and then their hair as Becky said:

"Oh, why shouldn't we tell him? He knows we do it. ... I think he would like to know how, ... how we do it, when we do it that good. Why not?"

"Hm-hmm! And how are you going to tell him?"

"Oh, I don't know. Yeah, that would be funny, sitting around - maybe on the deck, naked - and telling him: 'Oh, want to know how we really like it?'"

"Hm-hmm! That would be funny. I'm not going to tell him. You can, sometime, if you want," Martha replied.

"Sometime? Hmm? You think we will again, 'sometime'?"

Martha shrugged, nodding, then murmuring: 

"Lucky, if you do. Well, I hope so."

Becky recognized from Martha's expression that she could be thinking that she couldn't, that she was feeling bitter-sweet about the thought that Becky could. She nodded with a slight smile. They hung up their towels and then went to the kitchen.

"I could eat a real big breakfast," Becky said, enthusiastically, as they started getting things out. Martha glanced at her, for a moment watching her nude figure moving unselfconsciously as she took things out of the refrigerator, and then agreed:

"Me, too. We deserve one. Eggs on the last of the meatloaf?"

"Oh, yeah, that would be good, but heat up the meatloaf."

"Umm-hmm, and runny fried eggs."

"Umm-hmm, and toast and cheese, ... and jam."

"And milk - for growing girls."

"Hm-hmm! Not that I want to, much more - just for girls who like them to be sucked."

They both snickered, grinning at each other as their nipples stood out. They smiled at each other again and then went about making breakfast, and they were both hungry. Becky was delighted with her "runny fried egg" on a slice of warmed up meatloaf, deciding that she wanted ketchup with it, and Martha then tried it and agreed that it was good. Becky asked how Martha came to suggest the combination, and she explained that she had recalled that there was a Swedish dish of creamed beef with an egg and had remembered the rest of the meatloaf. With orange juice and milk - "for growing girls," and they joked about that again - and cheese and jam on toast, they ate so much that they agreed that they probably wouldn't want any lunch as they leaned back in their chairs with full stomachs.

They both had extended their feet as they leaned back, and they touched, and they smiled at each other, and then as they both move them, grinned and ended up holding them together, snorting as they pressed them together. Then Martha snorted again and said:

"We're not going to, if that was what you were thinking."

"I know, and I wasn't, but you were, ... at least thinking that I would be."

"Sorry. But somehow I got the impression that you might be - almost any time ..."

"Maybe, ... maybe you're right, but not right now. ... Oh, we talked about that already: 'right now' ... or not 'right now'."

"Hm-hmm! And then it was ..."

"Real good!" she interjected and moved her feet in Martha's.

"Stop it!" and Martha pulled her feet back from hers.

"But I just said: 'not right now.'"

"Um-hmm. Let's clean up."

Becky nodded, and they started to. Then the telephone rang. 

"Him?" Becky asked with a glance at Martha, as she started to go to answer it, and then stopped and said: "It must be. You can answer it this time."

Martha nodded with a smile and hurried to do so.

"Oh, hi, it's me. We thought it was you." ...

"Yes, she called yesterday evening." ...

"Oh, you were there. Yes, after what she said about my 'discouraging' a guy, she apparently thought that it is a good idea for you to be here. ... To 'protect' us on the weekend. ... No, she didn't say that. Of course, you know, if you were there. We sort of interpreted that that was the way she felt. ... Yes, real good - you must be alone - after her misgivings - is that the right word? - before. And you know we want you to ... Hm-hmm! Um-hmm, to 'protect' us real good! ... Um-hmm, we talked about that. You know we do. ... Oh, I guess you aren't alone any more, but ... we are - she's nodding ... and grinning. ... Yes, if the waves are good - and I'm sure that they will be - we can show you how well we've learned to 'body surf.' ... Hm-hmm! You'd 'like that' ... to body surf with us. We're pretty good at it - Hm-hmm! - together ... Hm-hmm! Of course, you 'may speak to her'." 

Martha held the phone out to Becky.

"Hi, isn't that great?! ... Hmm! You didn't say that for me. Who's there? Don't answer. Of course, you're just coming out here to pick us up. When? ... What time Friday evening? ... 7:45? That early? That's good! And we want to be 'picked up' ... by such a strong brother and ... Okay. Till Friday, we'll pick you up ... 'pick you up'!"

She hung up the phone, grinning at Martha, who grinned back, and they both rubbed their aroused nipples, but not to make them soft again as they watched each other, and Martha remarked:

"Maybe we will show him. Why not, if he knows we do ... and ... leaves us a chance to."

"He can't do it all the time - Hm-hmm! - but maybe enough so that we don't want to."

"Hm-hmm! Maybe, - Hm-hmm! - but then we would have to just tell him - Hm-hmm! - or you just ask him if you could tell him."

"Or you could?"

"Me? It was your idea."

"But maybe he would ..., it would be better if you did."

"Why?"

"I don't know, ...oh, ... I guess it would seem better - your telling him. I mean, ... - you know - you have more experience. I'd feel kind of funny about doing it, ... telling my big brother - he still is - how to make love."

"Hmm! It didn't sound like it, before. ... You're blushing."

Becky's nipples were all tight, as she rubbed her cheeks and smiled sheepishly and agreed:

"I guess so. ... Let's finish in the kitchen."

Martha nodded, and they did.

Out on the deck, they saw that cumulus clouds were already developing over the windward end of the island. They lay down, Martha still reading, Becky just lying on her back, immediately letting the sun shine on her between her legs. Martha snorted slightly and said: 

"You're going to get it sunburned," and then snorted more sharply and asked:

"Or are you going to ask him if he can see the way you've been sunbathing."

"Hm-hmm! I hadn't though of that, but it's a good idea; I'll take the risk," and she drew her thighs up and let them flop open as she added: 

"It just feels good ..."

"Um-hmm, and reveals what you're thinking about."

"Um-hmm, but you did, too."

"Um-hmm," Martha admitted softly as she returned to her reading, and then they were silent.

After a long while, Becky asked:

"What are you going to do with him?"

"You're still thinking about it."

"Um-hmm. What are you going to do with him?"

"What I can't do with you, and then he's going to do what you can't do ..."

"Of course. You have been thinking about it, too."

"In my bed, before we knew that he could come."

"Hm-hmm! I like that. And then?"

"'And then?" I guess, it's your turn. Where are you going to be?"

"Oh? I hadn't really thought about that, but I can't imagine that I would be just sitting in the living room - Hm-hmm! - listening to you, ... or lying in my bed, waiting. ... I guess I was thinking that I would be there, somehow. Oh, maybe it will be dark - yeah, by then, Hm-hmm! - and you can't see me, ... like Sunday night."

"Hmm! ... If it's going to be like that, I guess we better ... just start with all three of us."

"A shower? ... He'll need one."

"Something like that."

"Um-hmm. ... Oh, he has experience - with the two roommates. ... I wonder what they did, how that was? ... Funny, that must have surprised him, ... that they both wanted to."

"Um-hmm. 'And then?'"

Oh, ... - hmmm? - I guess, ... well...? No, I'm going to save that for the morning - a lot of it ... Oh, I'll want him to 'kiss' me, like we're really meant to. Hm-hmm! Maybe I'll tell him that. ... And, of course, if he wants to again - can, oh, he can then - Oh, I'll want him to."

"I can imagine!"

"You won't mind?"

"You said I could go first."

"Just so you know."

"Thanks! Just listen to us! ... Probably won't care what happens then ... for a while, at least."

"Hm-hmm! I hope not. ... Oh, maybe you can tell him how I want it ..."

"While he's doing it?!"

"We like to talk about it ..."

"Not while we're doing it! Hm-hmm!"

"Hmm! And he likes to talk about it, ... while we're doing it, ... so, ... why not? He'll like it."

Martha laughed out loud, and Becky joined in, and then their laughter died down to snickers, and then Martha laughed again and said:

"I suddenly thought about a sport reporter, like on TV, commentating on what was happening on the field - I guess a soccer match, back home - suggesting that the man with the ball should pass it instead of trying to kick the goal, himself."

They both laughed again, and then Becky replied, still giggling:

"Yeah, something like that. Yes, just like that, that he shouldn't try to score by himself - his team is in complete control - keep passing the ball back and forth, confusing and frustrating the other team - me - until it can't be helped, a beautiful goal that leaves the other team - me - breathless, ... in awe."

Martha snickered and then laughed again, and Becky did too, still lying flat on her back with her thighs spread as her stomach moved with her laughter, but then she extended her legs and rolled over on her side, still chuckling as Martha rolled back onto her side and grinned at her and said:

"No, you've got to tell him, maybe like that."

"While he's doing it?"

"You said he liked to hear it."

"If I do - If I were to - I think I'd be more direct - have to be more direct - in that situation. I was seeing myself kneeling over him - one way or the other - and I think I would be telling him: 'No, not yet. Just keep doing that , ...'" 




Martha in America Ch. 14



Becky's thighs clutched together: 

"... 'yeah, like that. Don't make me come yet. Just keep on like that. Oh, it's so good! I don't want it to stop. Oh, yes! That's right. Hm-hmm! Martha knows how good that is, ... like that, just on and on. And when I come, ... Oooh! Mmmm! ... like that! And when I finally come, don't stop. I won't be able to say anything, but I'll want you to keep on, even if I can hardly bear it, but I want you to, I want it!' Hm-hmm! 'Do it like Martha does, she knows how good it is, how much we both want it again!'"

Her thighs had clutched together again during her fantasy - and Martha's, too - and again as it ended, and they both snickered and laughed again.

"Oh, that was good! Maybe you can tell him. Oh, I'm sure you can, like that, when he's doing it to you. ... And I hope he can do it as good as you want. ... But maybe you could leave me out of it."

"Hmm! Oh no, that makes it good - what makes it good - letting him know how I know I want it like that ... and that you do, too, ... yeah, telling him indirectly that we want it better, ... well more and different from what he may have thought. ... Yeah, I like that."

They both snickered again, glancing at each other's aroused nipples, and then Martha replied:

"Maybe, ... yes, maybe. It does sound better than just telling him, sometime when we weren't doing it. That would sound like criticism; yes, maybe that was what was bothering me about it before."

"Yes, I guess you're right. I hadn't thought of that."

"I hadn't either, but not directly, as I said. ... Hm-hmm! And then?"

"And then? If he does it that good, I doubt there will be any 'and then.' Hm-hm-hmm! But if I see that he is aroused again - yeah, I'll do it that way, so I can see - maybe I won't tell him, ... or tell him, but then tell him to do something else instead. Hm-hmm!! I did that once, but we were planning to - the last time, Sunday morning. No, I was doing it to him, we were both doing it, and did, and then told him to - with a word we shouldn't use any other time."

"Hm-hmm! I can imagine; I did, too."

"Um-hmm, then it's the only way to say it - what you want. Hm-hmm! Maybe I will, don't be surprised."

"Hm-umm, that's all right," Martha agreed with a chuckle and nod, adding:

"But now I want to finish my book."

Becky nodded and turned onto her stomach, and Martha, onto her back and returned to her reading, holding the book up against the sun. After a while, she drew her thighs up like Becky had done, letting them lie open, but Becky didn't notice, lying peaceful with her head turned the other way. But she did notice, when Martha put the book down after she finished it, turning her head back towards her and asking:

"Did they keep doing it."

"Not like you would have liked them to, or at least to read about. The story wasn't about a week on Fire Island, ... or in your apartment last week."

"Hmm! I guess not. We're spoiled."

"Not me, I'm just making up for lost time."

"Hm-hmm! And we're just trying to help you."

"Thanks, and I'm just loving it, even if you two got a head start, ... but then maybe it all wouldn't have happened, certainly not this week."

"Um-hmm, thank you, too."

They smiled at each other, and then Martha tilted her head back and looked up at the sky and said: "Oh, the clouds are really building up." Becky sat up and looked at them and agreed:

"Oh yes, there's going to be a thunderstorm somewhere."

"You think so? I don't really like them, not after that night with my brother, ... even though I liked what happened."

"Oh, I love them! Nature pure! I hope it hits us!"

"You do?"

"Oh, sorry, if you don't like them."

"That's all right. ... Hm-hmm! If I'm really frightened - lots of thunder and lightening - I can go jump in your brother's bed."

"Maybe I'll be frightened then, too."

"And what we will tell your parents' friends that we did during the storm - if it comes?"

"Not that! I'll tell them that I liked it, that I just love it, ... the way it is when a thunderstorm comes, ... even if it so frightening that I have to jump in my brother's bed."

She grinned at Martha, who snorted and smiled back as she replied:

"I hope not, hope that you're just getting such remarks off your chest now."

"Off my chest?" She cupped her hands under her breasts with another grin and replied:

"I hope so, too, but maybe there's place for more such remarks ... that haven't occurred to me yet."

"Probably, but I hope they don't, ... at least, this evening. Otherwise, they're usually pretty witty."

"I'll try. Oh, with them it will be no problem; I don't think anything like that will occur to me, ... but it is fun, the play on words ..."

"And finding any way you can to ... to do so."

"Um-hmm. I have to work it all out, while I can - maybe, work it out of my system."

"I hope so."

"Me, too. But it worked out last week, with my parents, just being a better daughter than they had expected - and than I had."

"Well, that was sort of a test, and I guess that you passed it. I sure hope so. ... Want a beer? "We've been good girls for hours, and if we aren't going to have any lunch ..."

"Oh yes. ... Your shirt!"

Martha was already getting up, but sat back down again and put on her/his shirt and picked up her book and went back into the house and soon returned with two beer cans, sitting down on her towel and handing one to her. They opened them and said "skaal" and drank and smiled at each other.

"Oh, if it rains, I want to just lie all naked in it!"

"You already are - all naked."

"But you aren't. You didn't take of your shirt."

"I thought I had had enough sun, today, without lotion."

"Um-hmm. I always wanted to run around in the rain when I was little ... and later, too, but, of course, then couldn't."

"And did you?"

"Once, when I was four or five, before we had this place, in a cabin somewhere on a lake. I guess my parents rented it. Yeah, I was five, ... it was that summer."

"Why that one?"

"Oh? ... I told my brother about that."

"What?"

"He remembered, I guess the first time he saw me naked."

"Hmm! Not the last time!"

"No! But not after that that. Maybe my parents also found it funny, but that evening Mother told me I shouldn't do it again."

"Hm-hmm! I can imagine, knowing her."

"Um-hmm! Oh, there's a joke about two little children - a boy and a girl - and they look in each other's underpants, and one says: Oh, I didn't know there was that much difference between Catholics and Protestants."

They both laughed, and then drank from their cans, and Martha said:

"They couldn't have been too young, if they knew about their religions."

"I hadn't thought of that, thinking of them as maybe three or four. Yeah, it was a cartoon, the picture of them holding out their underpants and looking in them - yeah, that young. I always knew we were Jewish, and that others weren't."

"I guess at home, where almost everyone is Lutheran; we just take it for granted, ... and besides, I had my brother."

"Of course. They would have had to be only children - and not have seen their parents."

"Um-hmm. 'Only children'? ... Oh, an 'only child', with no siblings?"

"Yes. Yeah, I guess that sounded funny: 'They would have had to be only children.' Of course, they were only children, and the expression is seldom used in the plural."

They drank again, and then looked up at the clouds, seeing a thunderhead developing.

Martha took off her shirt and said:

"I guess if it's going to rain, I can take some more sun," and they moved their towels and lay down, looking up at the sky.

After a minute or two, Martha said:

Oh, of course, I saw my Daddy's when I was little, but I'd already seen my brother's, so it didn't surprise me. What did, was all his hair, at least the time I remember. I probably saw him when I was even smaller, but that time - the only one, I guess - I really looked at him - right in front of my face, I was just that tall, hm-hmm. And he let me for a moment; he had just come from the bathroom - in their bedroom, with my mother there, too. I just looked at it, surprised by his hair, the color of mine. Later I asked my mother about it, and she told me that when I grew up, I would have hair there, too, which also surprised me, of course. I had never seen her naked, ... never have. Funny."

"I haven't either, my mother, also not my father, of course. She didn't tell me that, and I didn't ask, but it didn't surprise me when I was eleven and discover a couple. I wonder why? Had I seen it on pictures - that girls do? I can't remember any. Or my sister? She - my mother - took me to the museum - before that - and let me see nudes, or maybe she was showing them to me, but all of them have no hair - or it's covered - and on statues they never show any ... - hmm - or well maybe, just suggested by a little swelling at the start of their thighs, but I never thought of that as being supposed to suggest their hair."

"I hadn't either. On male statues, they show it, when they show everything. ... Hm-hmm! A girlfriend who went to Italy, told me that in Florence, the American girls just stare at Michelangelo's David."

"I probably would, too, will too, this summer. I've seen photos of him, and did stare at his. He should have been shown circumcised, being a Jew, but they never show them that way, but that only occurred to me after I had seen my brother. Hm-hmm! And we don't need a statue of David to know what a strong man looks like, having my brother."

"Hm-hmm! Um-hmm, but they all don't look like that, ... so don't be disappointed."

"I guess you're right, ... pity."

"Um-hmm. ... Oh, we forgot our beers; they're going to be all warm."

They both sat up and drank, smiling at each other, and then drank again, finishing them, and then burping and snickering. The clouds were now threatening, but the sun was still shining in over the ocean. Becky put on her shirt and stood up went to the railing, looking out at the beach and then towards the base of the clouds, and called back to Martha:

"Yeah, the people are starting to pack up, and over there I can see that it's raining already."

Martha joined her, buttoning the bottom buttons of her shirt, and agreed:

"Yes, like in the mountains, you can see the rain coming," and they watched the people hurrying to get their things together and leave the beach. Then they heard a distant roll of thunder and looked back at the approaching clouds, and saw a flash of lightening in the dark center of them, and then another, before the sound of the thunder reached them. Then there was another stroke of lightening, and Becky started counting slowly: "one, two, three, ..." and reached seven before they heard the thunder.

"Over a mile away, she murmured.

"Oh, we count to three, for a kilometer, then it was still more than two kilometers away."

"Um-hmm. Oooh! Another one, it's going to be a really good storm!"

"You do like them."

"Um-hmm, nature pure ... - Hm-hmm! - like us. Oooh, you can smell the rain now."

"Um-hmm. ... Us, nature pure?"

"Um-hmm, just naturally doing what we want, ... with no respect of conventions."

"Hmm! That's for sure. Oh! Another one, ... two, ... three, ... four, ... five."

The clap of thunder was louder than before as they felt the cooler air from the storm, and both shivered slightly as Martha said: 

"Less than two kilometers now."

"Um-hmm, just a mile. Oh, I like this!" and her hand found Martha's and clasped it, and they held hands as they waited for the next stroke of lightening, a flash of light behind the clouds and then a long roll of thunder, and then there was another stroke that they could see clearly, that they could see hit the earth, and Martha started, her hand clutching Becky's as the clap of thunder reached them, and she murmured insistently:

"Let's go back in the house, ... at least under the eaves."

Becky let her draw her back from the railing until they were standing under the eaves where they could still watch the lightening and feel the cool wind from the nearing downpour.

"I'm going to," Becky said and let go of Martha's hand and stripped off her shirt:

"... no one will be watching us. Martha unbuttoned her shirt, but left it on, standing behind her as though seeking protection from the display of nature's violence. Then after another stroke of lightening that was immediately followed by it's thunderclap, she put her arms around Becky, holding then warm together in the cool air as the rain began to come down in big drops. Becky nodded with a glance over her shoulder and put her hands and arms on Martha's, but then as the rain really started to pelt down, spraying on their legs, she grasped Martha's hands and started to remove them as she said:

"I'm going to. I just have to!"

"Don't!" Martha begged, but she let her escape her embrace, and she ran out in the downpour, standing for a moment with outstretched arms as she turned her head up to the rain, and then danced around, going out to the railing and looking at the beach - now bare of people - and then prancing around with delight, her nipples aroused as delightfully as she was. Martha smiled at her exuberance, and she grinned back as she turned and spun in the rain, but then there was a near stroke of lightening, so close that loud thunderclap was almost simultaneous.

Becky ran back to Martha, embracing her as her momentum pushed them back against the wall of the house. Martha put her arms around.

"Hmm, that's nice, all warm. I just had to do it, and loved it, until the lightening struck again."

"Um-hmm, it looked like you did. Shouldn't we go back in the house?"

"No, let's just wait, like this. Usually the lightening passes, and then it just rain, and we can go out in it again, ... if you want to."

Martha just nodded, and they held each other as they watched the rain, both starting when there was another clap of thunder, their arms suddenly tensing. Then, as they waited, Becky slipped one and then the other arm under Martha's shirt, and the lightening did move on as it continued to pour.

"Want to? I'm going to," she said and let go of Martha, who hesitated, watching her step back into the rain, again outstretching her arms and turning to look back at her as she said:

"Come on; it's lovely. I just love it," and she grinned: "... even more than I remember, ... and being naked." She lowered her arms and waited.

Martha smiled with a snort and slipped her shirt off and joined her, remarking:

"Oh, it's warmer than I expected; it is lovely," and she raised her face to the rain and then raised her arms as Becky watched her and spun around, letting her arms fling out as she replied:

"See, I told you. I knew you would like it - 'nature pure'."

"And you too: 'nature pure', a piece of pure naked human nature. You look like a picture."

"You do too. This is the way we were meant to be, all naked, in nature - 'au naturel'."

"'And God created woman.'"

"Yeah, like that, that's the way I feel, ... don't you?"

"And the way you look, someone's vision of Eva in her first thunderstorm."

"Yeah, that's me, Eve," and she did another turn.

"Oh yes, 'Eve' in English. Hm-hmm! And you are, having been eating freely from the Tree of Knowledge."

"Oh, that's good! Yes, that's me. ... Oh, do you think that was what it was about, the serpent and apple, learning about sex?"

Martha snickered and raised her arms to the rain, holding her hands up open in front of her breasts as she smiled at her and replied:

"I don't think so. I think He told them to 'go forth and multiply' before that. And if it were, then you should be feeling ashamed at your nakedness, so I guess I was wrong. It doesn't look like you have yet - eaten from the Tree."

"I don't think so either - well, not right now. But maybe if someone else were looking ..."

"God Father, or just a human one?"

"Yeah, then - Hm-hmm! - or maybe not, ... if you think I haven't eaten from the Tree yet."

"I hope no one can," and Martha looked around at the beach.

"There's no one there, I looked already, and if there were, they couldn't see us very well through the rain. Isn't it just grand! And being able to be out in it all naked?!"

"Um-hmm, and that it is almost warm. At home, the rain is always cool, too cold to enjoy being out in it, ... - Hm-hmm! - especially like this."

"Um-hmm. Aren't you glad that you didn't run back in the house and hide in his bed?"

"Um-hmm."

"But it is getting cool, just standing around in it."

"Um-hmm, a little. Want to go back in?"

"Okay," and she did a final turn in the rain and joined Martha under the eaves and picked up her shirt and said:

"Wait, I'll get us towels," and quickly wiped most of the rain off herself and went in the house and came back with their towels, and they dried themselves and went into the house.

"I almost hope it rains on the weekend, so we can do that with him," she told Martha as they hung up their towels in the bathroom.

"Umm-hmm, and play Eve again."

"Both of us. ... Oh, I guess there can only be one Eve, but that doesn't matter. He can pick which one he wants to be Eve, ... and it doesn't matter; after Adam, they all seemed to have two wives. Oh, he'll know about the Tree of Knowledge - whether they knew how to 'multiply' before eating the apple."

"Hm-hmm! I bet they didn't - could just count on their fingers."

"Not like that, of course, ... - Hm-hmm! - but if they knew how, I can't imagine why they would want - Eve would want - to know anything else."

"I hope your brother knows."

"Hm-hmm! He'll want to 'know' us."

Martha nodded with a grin. By now, they were back in the living room, and it was still raining. They stood at the open door watching it, Martha behind Becky, who murmured:

"It's cooling off, outside."

"Um-hmm."

"But it's still warmer in the house, ... or is that just you?"

"Me, maybe," and she took a step back, and then came closer behind Becky again, closer than before.

"Yes, it's you. I thought so."

"And you, too."

"Um-hmm, like when the lightening struck."

"Um-hmm."

Becky reached back and found Martha's hands and drew them across her stomach, drawing Martha's body closer in contact with hers, and Martha held them a little closer.

"What do we want to do now?" Becky asked.

"I don't know, whatever you want to."

"I don't know. I asked first."

"Something we can tell about this evening."

"If you want to."

"Or we can make up something to tell," Martha suggested.

"Not that we were standing out in the rain."

"I don't think so, even if he would maybe like to hear about that."

"Um-hmm, but then she would tell ..."

"But something we would have done while it was raining."

"The puzzle? Or backgammon?"

"If you want to."

"We don't have to."

"We said that before."

"Hmm! Um-hmm."

"So many times, till ... we didn't believe it any more."

"Did we, before?"

"We said so."

"And we didn't have to, ..."

"It just seemed like it, afterwards."

"Um-hmm."

"Is this before, ... or afterwards?"

"Before or afterwards, what?"

"Hmmm? Maybe both."

"How, both?"

"Maybe, ... before: doing it; and afterwards: agreeing that we had to?"

"Maybe, that was clever."

"We don't have to. ... but it's sort of a nice idea for a rainy afternoon."

"Um-hmm, since it's cooling off, a nice warm place to be."

"Um-hmm, even if we decide that we don't have to."

"Um-hmm, ... or maybe this is like you said: 'before and afterwards.'"

"Maybe, that would be nice, too."

"Um-hmm, I can't think of anything nicer."

"Hm-ummm!"

During this conversation, they had been holding each other closer, Becky drawing Martha's hands tighter around her, and Martha pressing her hips up against her ass, and then towards the end, Becky had drawn Martha's hands up on her breasts, holding them to her aroused nipples, and then Martha's fingers were playing with them despite the feigned indecision in what they were saying, and her own nipples were just as aroused, and she had been moving them on Becky's back, either to let her feel them or for her own arousal. 




Martha in America Ch. 14



They quickly went to his room, only then realizing that they had to remake his bed. They did, just snickering. They slipped under the covers and rolled together, embracing with warm, agreeing hums and then kissed. Then, however, their hands were where they wanted to kiss even better. Becky cast aside the overs and turned around, not stopping to suck one of Martha's nipples, and they curled up together, discovering how warm and already moist the other's pussy was. It then it wasn't "before or afterwards," they were in between, doing it.

Slowly, almost lazily, hardly arousing each other as their mouths move gently, just holding each others hips, their bodies still and relaxed, one or the other tensing occasionally, but holding still, and the other one immediately then finding something else to do with her tongue; and then holding her own hips still when she couldn't help but tense her muscles, and then relaxing again; and then the other, taking turns that developed into a repeating pattern, like a fugue; and the recognition of the Leitmotif - knowing how it would repeat - seemed to let them continue their "fugue" - in adagio, with variations - for the longest time; until one's variation resulted in their playing the Leitmotif in unison, and then with new variations that led to a new motif in andante, and now they were letting their hips move, but just gently - walking, andante - and continued without hurrying - a minuet. But then it was more like Ravel's Bolero, the repetition of the common theme arousing the anticipation of a finale, but still continuing, promising it, but holding back, repeating again and again. And their hips were wanting it, and their fingers were trying to help, and their tired, eager tongues wanted it; and then they were coming - and coming and coming. But it was still the Bolero, just on and on! And then da capo, starting again with the same theme, and coming again in waves, like waves on a rocky coast, spurting up between the clefts in the rocks; and like the waves, incessant, unrelenting, neither of them able to stop, neither able to refuse the insistent movement of the other's jerking pelvis; the two of them a perpetuum mobile as their orgasms continued, rising and falling in intensity, and rising again ... ; until they both finally slumped, completely exhausted as Martha gasped: "Herre Gud!" and was silent as she drew long, deep breaths and sighed.

Becky just lay there, gasping and sighing, and then finally murmured:

"Oh God, I didn't know it could be like that! That that could happen."

Martha nodded, and they were silent for a while.

"Just again and again ..." 

"Umm-hmm," the other agreed, and they were silent again.

"Why can't we just say that we want to?"

"I don't know. Maybe ..., oh, maybe I wanted you to ask."

"Or me, you. Yes, ... yes, we wanted to be sure the other did."

"Um-hmm, I guess so."

"Of course, it's a question ..., a 'delicate question' that you don't want to have refused."

"Um-hmm. If one once said 'no,' it would be sort of final ..."

"And a sign that the other hadn't known her - or him - well enough to recognize that he - or she - didn't want to, or wasn't in the mood ..."

"Which shouldn't be the situation, before you do it."

"Um-hmm. ... So we don't ask - or just say - what we want."

"Um-hmm, but we manage to find out if we do."

"Real good! And that's good, too, how we do it. Talking around it like that makes me want to even more."

"Um-hmm, or want to, in case you hadn't before."

"Like this morning, when we said: 'we don't have to,' the first time, I really meant it."

"Did you or I say it the first time?"

"I don't know; we both did, and that brought the subject up, in case it hadn't occurred to you already."

"Hm-hmm! But I guess it had, had to; we've done it every morning."

"Mmmm! Yes, but we both still wanted to make sure the other did."

"Um-hmm, nice, ... polite, not just assuming that she did."

"Um-hmm, aren't we sweet to each other?"

"Real! And you're real sweet when you do it, all sweet in my face."

"You, too. And he was sweet to suggest that we would like it."

"Let's remember to thank him."

"Um-hmm."

They were still lying with their heads on each other's thigh, eventually with a hand on the other's breast, and now they turned their heads down and smiled at each other and squeezed each other's breast, and then sat up past each other and moved their legs around with their drawn up knees next to each other's as they smiled again and both slid their hand down between the other's thighs, lightly stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh till they both clasped their knees together, and chuckled with a grin.

"We're going to have to let his bed dry out again," Martha said as she felt the wet spot from her orgasms.

"Um-hmm, and give it a rest, and give him clean sheets for tomorrow."

"When are we going to do the laundry?"

"Sunday morning, I guess."

"Oh, yes. I still forget that everything is open on Sundays."

With another tickle between their relaxed thighs, they got up and stripped his bed again and agreed that they could have another beer. They got their beers and found their shirts and went out and picked up their wet towels and the empty beer cans, deciding to stay in the house for the rest of the afternoon since outside it was cooler after the rain.

They played backgammon again, agreeing to leave the puzzle untouched, "in case anyone comes by and wants to know what we've been doing." Most of the time, they were concentrated on the game, bantering about having been able to remove the other's piece, and sipping at their beers. While they were setting up a new game, Becky asked:

"Do you think he can do it like that?"

"Oh? Hm-hmm! If you tell him, maybe."

"Yeah, of course, ... or maybe not. I kind of like to think that we could 'cause we both knew exactly what it was being like. ... Hmmm? I guess I want it to be special, ... with you."

"Umm-hmm, it sure was, but ... with a little help, he could too."

"Yeah, I guess, ... - Hm-hmm! - and I want him to, too. ... And ... the other way? Really doing it?"

"Hm-hm-hmm! I don't know, ... don't know if I could stand it. I sort of passed out when he did it twice. That must have been enough."

"Oh! You, too?!"

"Um-hmm. But I don't know if he could, ... just on and on, twice, maybe three times ... for him. Hm-hmm! Men are different, you know, they just can't keep on."

"No, I guess they can't. Maybe I'll ask him."

"You probably will, if I know you."

"Hm-mmm! You do!"

They finished their beers and played another game. Martha reached for her empty can and murmured:

"We better not have another one before going to dinner."

"There's coke, and we should drink a few."

"And Sprite, I'll get a couple. What do you want?"

"I'll have a Sprite, too, thank you."

Martha returned with them, and they played a couple of more games. After the last one, Becky looked up and remarked:

"Oh, we've still got his shirts on."

"Um-hmm, we thought it was cool."

"Yeah, I guess we don't have to go naked all the time. It's going to be funny, wearing a dress this evening."

"Um-hmm, but don't tell them."

"Not even just a hint?"

"I hope you're teasing me."

"I am. Of course not. What are we going to do till eight?"

"We could take a walk."

"Yeah, I guess. Let's see how cool it is outside."

They went out on the deck, seeing that there were a few people on the beach, but only a few just sunning, and none swimming, and decided that it was probably too cool for just a bathing suit and went to their rooms. Becky put on the bottom of her bikini, and was a little surprised to see that Martha had put on shorts and was buttoning his shirt up again - over a bra. 

"You have to wear the top, too."

"Oh, I guess so," she replied and went back to her room, putting it on as she returned with his shirt hanging around her neck, and then got her arms back through the sleeves as they went out on the deck and down to the beach.

They walked almost as far as the shops before they started back, not attracting the attention of any boys or young men, there being few out, probably - as they discussed - because they had surmised that there wasn't much chance of starting a conversation with girls who were out strolling. They agreed that their long walk might have been more interesting if some had, but were also agreed that it was really better, since they might have wanted to follow them home. And then they were there, for a while naked in the bathroom, brushing their hair and their teeth, and then reminding each other that they should wash their faces, snickering and then doing so. They put on their best dresses and sandals, smiling at each sheepishly when they met in the hall.

"Yeah, funny," Becky said, and Martha nodded as she went on: "But I guess it won't feel so strange by the time we get there," and they set off.

The couple greeted them rather formally at the door, remarking that they had got all dressed up, but from their own clothing, it was appropriate. Martha immediately thanked them again for lunch the previous day, and when the wife demurred, saying it was nothing, Martha explained that in Norway people always said thank you for yesterday, or for the last time they had met, even if it hadn't been an invitation. The wife said that she thought that was a nice custom, and then the husband mentioned that he like that they had arrived so promptly, and then they immediately sat down to eat. 

The wife had even bought coke for them, while they had wine, the husband suddenly asking Martha if she would prefer to have a glass, but she refused, saying that coke was fine. Then the wife apologized to her that they always had kosher meals, but Martha replied that that was, of course, no problem, and mentioned some kosher dishes that she especially liked, explaining while the wife passed the serving dishes that that was one of the reasons she had come to the States, to learn about other customs. That led to questions about her family and what she was going to do when she returned to Norway.

Then the wife turned to Becky and said:

"Oh, yes. I talked to your mother yesterday, telling her how nice we thought it was that you stopped by yesterday. She was pleased, too."

"Yes, she told us."

"She said your brother is coming out tomorrow to drive you both back on Sunday. That's nice of him."

"Yes, for us and for my parents, saving them the trip."

I wanted to suggest that you come to dinner on Saturday, but she said that that would be going to too much trouble, that you had enough food at the house that had to be eaten."

"Yes, though it was kind of you to offer, and we really have enough, thanks to your inviting us for dinner tonight. It's delicious."

"Oh, thank you. I'm glad you enjoy it," and she turned to Martha and added:

"And I hope you do, too, Martha. That is your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, nice that you remembered. Yes, the dinner is lovely; I like it very much, thank you."

Then the husband asked if they had been having a good time, and they said that they had been, and Becky volunteered that she had been out there for almost three weeks.

"It looks like, from your tan. Do you have a bikini yet?" he asked, which earned him a stern glance from his wife as Becky replied:

"How did you know?"

"Your mother told me last week," the wife replied: "... and wasn't too pleased, if I may say so, saying that she thought you should have asked her first."

"Yes, probably, but my father didn't mind." 

The wife didn't see her husband's veiled smile, replying: 

"Maybe why she thought you should have asked first."

"I know; she said I couldn't wear it when I was alone on the beach, and I haven't."

"That's good."

For a few moments they ate in silence, and then Martha asked if they always spent their vacations on Fire Island They replied that they travelled often, to Europe and Israel, previously by ship, but now flying. Then they told where they had been in Europe, "even in Poland, where both our families come from." That subject lasted until they had finished the meal. When the wife began to clear the table, Becky sprang up to help. Then they had dessert, and coffee, still talking about where they had been in Europe, the couple sounding like they enjoyed telling about all the places they had visited.



Martha in America Ch. 15



It has been four months since I posted the previous chapter of this story. For readers who discover this one under "New" in the category "Incest/Taboo" and to refresh the memories of those who were following the series, I will give some background. 

Martha is the Norwegian au pair in Becky's family, well-to-do members of Jewish society in New York City with a summer house on Fire Island. I am not sure why I let them be Jewish; it is not really important. It did allow Martha to compare the cock of Becky's older brother with those she had known back in Norway. Yes, the story started with them spending a week alone together in the City, told by him in the first person. The parents were spending the week on Fire Island with Becky. The week before that, he and Becky had spent an un-chaperoned week on the Island, described in the story: "Birthday Present for my Sister," Becky's eighteenth birthday.

When the parents returned to the City, they let Martha spend a week with Becky on the island, where they are now. Almost needless to say, the chapters about their days together are in the category "Lesbian Sex." They have talked about their both having slept with Becky's brother, liking that they both have. The parents have agreed that Becky's brother can drive them home on Sunday, thinking it nice of him to offer and appropriate that girls not be alone Friday and Saturday night. The unsuspecting parents have no idea how delighted the three of them are with this solution. 

This chapter picks up the story on Thursday evening. The girls have met an older couple with a house on the island, friends of the parents, and been invited for dinner. The first few paragraphs repeat those at the end of chapter 14. It should also be remembered that this is happening 40 years or so ago, when young girls didn't have the pill, autos still had a bench front seat, conservative US mothers just acquiesced to their daughters' wearing a bikini. When he joins them, the story returns to his impressions in the first person.

The girls have just gotten dressed for dinner with the older couple, after spending most of the days and nights together with nothing on, the reason for Becky's opening remark here.

* * *

"Yeah, funny," Becky said, and Martha nodded, as she went on: "But I guess it won't feel so strange by the time we get there," and they set off.

The couple greeted them rather formally at the door, remarking that they had got all dressed up, but from their own clothing, it was appropriate. Martha immediately thanked them again for lunch the previous day, and when the wife demurred, saying it was nothing, Martha explained that in Norway people always said thank you for yesterday, or for the last time they had met, even if it hadn't been an invitation. The wife said that she thought that was a nice custom, and then the husband mentioned that he like that they had arrived so promptly, and then they immediately sat down to eat. 

The wife had even bought coke for them, while they had wine, the husband suddenly asking Martha if she would prefer to have a glass, but she refused, saying that coke was fine. Then the wife apologized to her that they always had kosher meals. Matha replied that that was no problem and mentioned some kosher dishes that she especially liked, explaining, while the wife passed the serving dishes, that that was one of the reasons she had come to the States, to learn about other customs. That led to questions about her family and what she was going to do when she returned to Norway.

Then the wife turned to Becky and said:

"Oh, yes. I talked to your mother yesterday, telling her how nice we thought it was that you stopped by yesterday. She was pleased, too."

"Yes, she told us."

"She said your brother is coming out tomorrow to drive you both back on Sunday. That's nice of him."

"Yes, for us and for my parents, saving them the trip."

I wanted to suggest that you come to dinner on Saturday, but she said that that would be going to too much trouble, that you had enough food at the house that had to be eaten."

"Yes, though it was kind of you to offer, and we really do, thanks to your inviting us for dinner tonight. It's delicious."

"Oh, thank you. I'm glad you enjoy it." The wife turned to Martha and added:

"And I hope you do, too, Martha. That is your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, nice that you remembered. Yes, the dinner is lovely; I like it very much, thank you."

Then the husband asked if they had been having a good time, and they said that they had been. Becky volunteered that she had been out there for almost three weeks.

"It looks like, from your tan. Do you have a bikini yet?" he asked, which earned him a stern glance from his wife, as Becky asked with an innocent expression:

"How did you know?"

"Your mother told me last week," the wife replied: "... and wasn't too pleased, if I may say so, saying that she thought you were still too young to wear one."

"Yes, I know; she said I couldn't wear it when I was alone on the beach, and I haven't."

"That's good."

For a few moments they ate in silence, and then Martha asked if they always spent their vacations on Fire Island They replied that they travelled often, to Europe and Israel, previously by ship, but now flying. Then they told where they had been in Europe, "even to Poland, where both our families come from." That subject lasted until they had finished the meal. When the wife began to clear the table, Becky sprang up to help. Then they had dessert, and coffee, still talking about where they had been in Europe, the couple sounding like they enjoyed telling about all the places they had visited.

Then Martha thanked them for the dinner, and the husband stood up and offered to drive them home. They said that that wasn't necessary, but the wife insisted, with the telling argument, that she had told Becky's mother that he would.

At the door again, they said goodbye to her with a handshake, and then waited for the husband to get the car from the garage, joining him on the front seat, and then he drove them back, waiting until they had entered the house before driving off.

"Oh, that was great! And the meal was really good," Becky enthused.

"Um-hmm, I think so, too. That was good of you to help clear the table."

"Being on best behaviour, but I wanted to. ... Did you see how he was looking at us ... when he asked if I had a bikini?"

"Um-hmm, and how she looked at him."

"Did she? I didn't notice, was just being glad I had a bra on."

"Um-hmm. Hm-mmm! But I didn't expect that I would ever hear you say that."

"Hm-mmm! Me neither. But I'm going to take it off now."

She started to get undressed as she added:

"But that was real good, your asking about what they do on vacation. I knew they travelled a lot, but not that they had been to all those places; they just went on and on, but it was interesting."

"I thought so, too," Martha agreed as she also took off her dress.

They went to their rooms, and after a few moments, Becky called:

"I'm going to put on my bathrobe."

"I don't have one."

"Find his."

Martha did, meeting her with a chuckle as they both went towards the kitchen and to refrigerator, chuckling again as she opened it and Martha took out two cans of beer.

She handed her one as she said:

"We really have been good girls."

"And it wasn't difficult. I like them better now. Before, they just seemed like older people that I had to be polite to. Skaal!"

"Skaal!"

They both took a long drink from their cans and smiled at each other again.

"What are we going to do now?"

"Maybe there's something on TV."

"Okay, let's see."

Becky burped as they went to the living room, and then they found a program that seemed interesting and watched it. It wasn't really very interesting, they agreed as they finished their beers, and had another one and watched the late news, and then decided to go to bed.

They got up and turned off the TV and then went and used the toilet. Then they looked questioningly at each other.

"We could try to sleep in our own beds."

"If you want to."

"Sort of save it, for him?"

"Um-hmm, sort of; that was what I was thinking too."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Hm-Hmm! But ..., but ... if you can't 'save' it, ... let me help."

"Hmm?! I think I can, ... but - you too. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Sweet dreams."

"You, too."

They went to their rooms, both of them eventually falling asleep holding their breast and pussy.

Becky woke up in the early morning light, no longer lying as she had been when she fell asleep. "Oh, yeah," she murmured softly to herself, squeezing her thighs together, and then got up and went to the bathroom and used the toilet, not flushing, and went back, past her room, and looked at Martha in her bed. Her eyes were closed, and she was lying on her back under the covers, but Becky could see that she had one hand down between her legs, and saw it moving, and saw a slight smile flit over her lips. She went closer to the bed, looking down at her, her eyes springing back and forth from Martha's face to her hand under the covers as her own nipples stiffened, and then her hand grasped her own pussy, just holding it cupped in her palm as she sighed silently, and then again with a soft moan.

Martha's eyes opened and looked over at her as her hand continued to more.

"Want me to help," Becky asked softly.

"I didn't really want to, ... want to really do it. It just sort of happened." 

Her fingers stilled as she smiled slightly and then added:

"Sort of by habit, waking up by myself. I wasn't really thinking about it, ... or anyone, ... just letting it feel good. ... Oh, I guess it was a little arousing to watch," and she glanced down at Becky's hand, still cupped to her pussy, but her nipples had softened again.

"Um-hmm," she agreed as she let her hand drop, adding.

"Come, get in bed." She held up the covers, and Becky did, as Martha moved over and continued:

"I don't think I was expecting that I really would, ... and if I had then wanted to, I would have called for your help, ... or come to you. I know I can't do it as good as you can, ... and then I would surely have wanted it to be that good. Good morning."

"Um-hmm, good morning," she replied as they settled down facing each other, their thighs overlapping. Martha said: 

"I can save it; we wanted to."

"Um-hmm, if you want to."

"Don't you?"

"Sort of, ... but seeing you ..."

"Yes, I guess, ... I was sort of cheating ..."

"Maybe I would have, too, if I hadn't had to go to the bathroom - hmm! - or maybe afterwards - like you - just 'sort of by habit,' ... with nothing better to do."

"Hm-hmm! Like last week, here with your parents?"

"Yeah, but in the mornings, I was afraid that maybe one of my parents might come in, just knocking and not waiting, so I did it in the night - if I woke up. They never did."

"We can, if you want to."

"Or should we see if we can really save it?"

"Should we?"

"We said we wanted to, ... but maybe we'll be all bitchy all day."

"We can try, and try not to be bitchy, knowing why."

"Maybe, ... being good, 'cause we're saving it, ... for him."

"Um-hmm, if that's 'being good'?"

"It would be being 'real good'."

"Want to try?"

"If you do."

"Now I've got to go to the bathroom."

"You don't when you start to do it, it sort of goes away."

"Yes, I know, but I do, now."

They both snickered and got up, and she let Martha precede her. She used the toilet, smiling at her and then saying:

"Maybe we shouldn't shower till this evening [now always together]. Something might happen."

"Um-hmm, if we don't want it to."

They both snickered again as Martha wiped herself and flushed, and then they just washed their faces and gave their pussies a wipe, and then went and made breakfast.

It was a long day: breakfast; sunning on the deck, trying to read books that they agreed weren't very interesting, also because they agreed that they knew they wouldn't finish them; remembering to call Becky's mother, assuring her that they knew when her brother was arriving and that Martha would drive carefully. They put on their bikinis and went down on the beach, then swimming. They discouraged a couple of boys who wanted to talk to them. They went back on the deck and sunbathed in the nude again with a beer, and then decided to clean up the house. 

Martha suggested that they should try to prepare dinner in advance, washing lettuce for a salad and mixing the dressing while Becky peeled potatoes - admitting it was the first time she had done it, and then wondered if they could boil them already. Martha agreed, deciding that she could make a potato salad so that they would just have broil the hamburger patties when Becky's brother arrived. There were only four, but large ones, that they agreed they could share three ways, and - as Becky said: 

"I think I'll be too aroused to want to eat much."

"Um-hmm," Martha agreed, observing that Becky's nipples had been for a moment after she had said that, and added:

"It looks like you are already.

"Um-hmm, aren't you, ... knowing that he is going to be with us soon."

Martha was, her nipples showing it as she nodded with a smile and rubbed them, chuckling and replying:

"Now that you mentioned it."

"That's good. I hope he is, too. Oh, we've got to make his bed."

They did while the potatoes boiled, both giggling when Becky remarked:

"He's going to know we've been using it when he sees that it is freshly made."

Then Martha made the potato salad while Becky started to set the table, asking if they wanted another beer, but Martha said that she had to drive. Becky got a can of Sprite, and then one for Martha, when she said that she would also like one, and suddenly they realized that they had to hurry: 

"If we're both going to shower," Martha said.

"Oh, yeah. I'll go first. I guess we're going to have to 'save' that too."

"I guess. I just suddenly said it that way. Hm-hmm! We can tell him that we haven't touched each other all day ..."

"And night. Real, real good girls!" 

Becky went off. Martha joined her when she heard her turn off the water, handing her her towel and then exchanging places with her in the tub as Becky remarked:

"I was going to save something else for him, but then under the shower - like you said - I did anyway.

"I am, too," Martha replied after she had turned on the water.

"What do you think we'll do, when we come back?"

"Have a beer, ... and maybe he'll want to shower, after a day in the city."

"Um-hmm, of course. ... Oh, of course! Like with us, sort of an indirect way of suggesting ..., well, you know."

"Um-hmm."

"You want to help him?"

"Don't you?"

"Yeah, ... but since you're going to go first ..."

"And you, just standing around with no excuse to get undressed?"

"Both of us? All three of us? It will be crowded."

"Um-hmmm! Nice and crowded."

"Um-hmm, thanks. And then?"

"We'll just have to wait and see what happens. If nothing does, we can eat."

"Yeah, that's good. If nothing does, we don't have to stand around wondering what to say. And maybe it would be better if we waited till it got a little darker ..."

"Yeah, maybe ..."

"Candles?"

"Good idea; I'll get fresh ones," Becky replied and ran off and found two new candles and put them in the candle holders, hesitating for a moment, and then putting them on the dining table, and then went to her room and got dressed and waited at the door to Martha's room for her to finish.

On the way to the bus station, she asked Martha:

"Are you going to want to kiss him, when we see him?"

"If he wants to, wouldn't you?"

"But not in the station."

"Of course not."

"I was thinking that maybe we both shouldn't go to find him, just me, like when one of my parents drives."

"Yes, you're probably right; it would look sort of funny if we both were there to get him."

"That's what I was thinking. There may be other people who know us."

"Okay. Hm-mmm! But don't tell him too much."

"Of course not. I'll just greet him like I always do."

Then they agreed that they had time to get more beer and did, then deciding that Martha should park around a corner out of direct sight from the station, and she found a parking space, and Becky went to the station and waited for the bus to arrive.

* * *

During the bus trip to Fire Island, I began to wonder how the weekend would be. Of course, I had been thinking about it before and recalling the one with Pam and Sukie [a still untold tale], but was it going to be like that, would Martha want it to be like that? Our bundle of love [a reference to chapter 8]? Now my sister's bundle, for her to share with both of us? They must have talked about it all. On the phone, it had sounded like Martha wanted to risk our making more love. 

When I got off the bus, just my sister was there to meet me, looking well tanned.

"Hi."

"Hi. Been having a nice week?" I asked automatically.

"Um-hmm, and you, at work?" she replied without any special expression.

"Yeah, fine. I could have gone out for a drink again this evening with the summer help."

"Girls too?" she asked with a more interested glance as she led me toward where Martha and the car must be.

"Of course," I replied.

"Then special thanks for coming out instead," and she glanced over at me again with a smile.

"I wanted to. You sure have been working on your tan." She smiled again and replied:

"Um-hmm, almost three weeks; you should see the rest of it," and grinned.

"Hm-mmm!" I chuckled at this first suggestion of our old intimacy with the sudden image of her naked.

"I bet! And Martha's?"

"You'll have to decide," she replied, apparently not wanting to commit herself.

"What have you been doing?" I asked, again sort of automatically, despite that fleeting image of her, but she snorted and replied:

"Maybe whatever you can imagine," and glanced over at me with a suggestive smile.

"Um-hmm," I responded, thinking that she was right and wondering if she had really meant it that way.

Then we were at the car, and I was wondering how Martha would greet me. I put my bag on the back seat and got in driver's seat as she moved over.

"Hallo, nice that you could come out," she said, smiling at me.

"Hello, I think so, too," I replied as we smiled at each other while my sister got in next to her on the other side. 

Then I drove off and around the corner, and then back on the road home, and put my hand on her thigh, and she pressed it against mine, and then put her hand on my thigh, and after a moment, I noticed her put her other one on my sister's. I moved my fingers a little on hers as I thought that we had pretty well confirmed what the weekend would be like, especially after I saw that Becky had done the same, all three of us holding each other's thighs. I tried to concentrate on my driving, wondering if one of them would suggest that they had anything planned for the evening, but neither of them said anything or even ventured a glance at me. Then Becky said:

"It must have gone all right with the parents." Both of them looked over at me.

"Um-hmm, better than I anticipated. Oh, Mother did say that it seemed that Martha and I had gotten on well, and Dad couldn't help but add: 'But not too well, I hope.' But when he directly asked me if I had remembered what he'd said on the phone, I told him that we had joked about it, told them that Martha's mother had warned her not sleep with 'the young gentleman.' That surprised them, that she had been so direct, and then I said something about parents' assuming that what they were worried about was inevitable if two young people were together."

"Wasn't it?" my sister asked facetiously.

"It was," Martha replied with a smile as she gripped my thigh, and I, hers.




Martha in America Ch. 15



"It was," I agreed: "but my suggestion that they were assuming too much took the wind out of their sails. Mother asked what I knew about your family, and then said that she hadn't known that your mother's father was a Lutheran minister. Then she changed the subject - thank goodness."

We all chuckled, and my sister said: 

"Maybe she thought that a minister's granddaughter had higher moral standards."

"Hmm!" Martha snorted: "After she had heard that my mother said that, could assume that she knew I might?"

"Yeah, that occurred to me, too, but she was too surprised at the moment to consider that. Maybe she did later," Becky remarked.

"I hope not," they both replied.

"At least she didn't raise the subject again, and they liked the idea of me coming out to fend off the temptations of the weekend crowd."

"Hm-hmm! We managed that without you during the week, but with my big brother here, I think we'll ... uh ... feel a lot better."

We chuckled again as Martha nodded and rubbed her hands on both our thighs. 

"What are we going to do this evening, anything planned?" I asked.

"We thought you'd probably like a beer first ..." my sister said.

"Yes, and maybe a shower, and we have dinner almost ready," Martha added.

"Sounds good, and you're very right about the beer."

We all glanced at each other with smiles as I felt Martha hold my thigh a little tighter and saw my sister squeeze hers, and then we were there, getting out of the car. Martha got the brown bag I had noticed in the back seat, and I, my bag, and we went in the house, straight to the kitchen. 

Martha quickly put the bag in the refrigerator and got three cold cans and passed them around, and we opened them and all said "skaal" and drank and smiled at each other, and then drank again, and since no one said anything, I offered:

"Here's looking at you ... both," and did.

"We've got too much on for that," my sister responded, and Martha and I smiled - at each other and then at her. She smiled back, and we all drank again as I wondered if the suggestion that I would want a shower suggested anything more, thinking that it must, after all the showers together with each of them, that maybe it was the suggestion of how we should all get our clothes off. Whatever, it didn't seem that Martha was worried about our - now my sister's - bundle.

"You were right about the shower, too," I finally said and finished my beer. They both nodded, and Martha reached out her hand and took my can as I stooped to pick up my bag and started to go to my room, wondering what they would do. I was already unbuttoning my shirt with one hand when I discovered my freshly made bed as I heard the two of them whispering in the kitchen. 

I grinned to myself and said loudly:

"'Oh,' said the big bear in Goldilocks: 'someone has been sleeping in my bed, and made it up again with fresh sheets. I wonder why?'" 

I heard them both snicker, and then as I was taking off my shirt they appeared at the door, grinning, and Becky replied:

" 'cause it's bigger than Momma Bear's and Baby Bear's beds." We all snickered, and they watched while I took of my shoes and socks, and then my pants, wondering if they expected me to also take off my underpants while they watched, but instead of continuing to undress, I opened my bag and got out my toilet kit, considering that I should also shave as I wondered what they were going to do.

"I think she wants to help you," my sister volunteered. Martha looked a little embarrassed when I looked at her and then replied:

"That was her idea. I think she does."

"It's a nice idea, if you can agree, or I can shower without help - like I have all week."

They almost snickered again as they let me pass them in the door, and then I heard them whisper again as I got to the bathroom and got my razor out of my toilet kit and took off my underpants, wondering if they were watching me from the hall, and stepped into the tub and closed the shower curtain and turned on the water, deciding to shave first, in case either of them really did want to help. 

It was a quick shave: cheeks and chin, with a pass at the neck as I heard them again in the hall, and then in the bathroom, my sister whispering:

"No, I'll just watch. I said you could go first."

Then a naked Martha slipped past the shower curtain, looking lovely with a seamless ruddy, beginning tan, and looking a little sheepish as she smiled with aroused nipples and came closer. I smiled and put down my razor, seeing my sister's smiling face appear from behind the shower curtain as Martha joined me under the shower coming into my arms as my sister stepped into the tub, but then Martha and I were kissing, embracing each other, and my cock, that had already been anticipating something like this ,since she had put her hand on my thigh, became more aroused. Martha snorted softly when she felt him, but then I felt my sister slip the bar of soap into her hand on my back, and she began to wash me, now just smiling at me as she soaped my back and then my chest as I was just aware of my sister's presence, and then Martha was washing my cock and balls, and past them as she stooped and then dropped to her knees and washed my legs. I reached out my hand and drew my sister nearer as Martha nodded and made space for her to stand next to me in the tub. I gave Martha a hand to help her stand up, and the three of us stood with our arms around each other under the shower for a few moments.

"And now?" I asked.

"We better dry off first," my sister suggested.

I turned off the water, and we did, two on one: my sister first, and then me, and then Martha, each of us appreciating how the other two chose to dry us - our sex: I drying my sister's, both of them fondling mine through the towel, and then my sister drying Martha's as she and I exchanged aroused smiles, and her hand found me again, now fondling it without the towel, observed by my sister with slight snort before she suggested:

"It doesn't look like we want dinner yet."

Martha just nodded in agreement as her fingers gently held my balls and sighed deeply. Becky followed us to my room. Martha flung back the covers as I remembered my sister's saying: "I said that you could go first." Martha waited for me to get on my bed, but then I said: 

"If we're going to do the laundry on Sunday, there's more space on their bed."

"Really?!" Martha asked.

"Yeah," my sister agreed and preceded us back into the hall and into our parent's bedroom, drawing back the covers. 

Martha still looked a little surprised that we would dare to use our parents' bed, again waiting for me. I got on the bed and moved over, expecting Martha to lie down next to me, but she immediately curled up with her head on my stomach as her hand found my balls again while my sister hesitated a moment, and then said:

"Oh, maybe I should get something. Where I expect?"

"Um-hmm, yes," I agreed, and she hurried back to the bathroom while Martha chuckled and massaged me gently and just kissing the head of my cock, apparently waiting for her to return and making me wonder how much they had planned this. She quickly returned with a smile, holding a packet of rubbers from my toilet kit, and then hesitating again, apparently wondering what she should do. Martha turned her head up and released my balls and beckoned to her to lie down facing her, raising her knee. My sister smiled with a slight nod and lay down with her head on my thigh, drawing her legs up; one between Martha's. Martha's hand lowered, fondling my sister's breast for a moment before it found my balls again, and my sister's found Martha's breast, as she moved her head and kissed him again and then took him into her mouth, and then her head relaxed, lying heavy on my stomach as her tongue moved on him, making him surge as I sighed with an appreciative moan. Martha let go of my balls again and drew my sister a little closer, she helping as her hand slid from Martha's breast over her side, their legs closer overlapped, and then Martha's hand returned, massaging gently as she sucked and licked my cock.

"Want me to tell him?" I heard my sister murmur. Martha nodded slightly, and I saw my sister's hand slide down and draw their hips closer, their legs moving to let their thighs slide higher up between each other as my hand slid over Martha's side and held her breast. 

"Um-hmm," she acknowledged, vibrating on my cock.

"She wants ... it to be real good, ... not just for you..." Martha nodded again as she was making it good for me. "... just to be sure ..." 

I squeezed and fondled Martha's breast and aroused nipple. 

"... after .... You wanted us to, ... to know how much you like to do it ..." Martha snorted silently with another slight nod as my sister continued: 

"And it was, ... it is," and their thighs clutched together. "She wants to be sure that it is - at least - as good with you, ... both ways."

"I hope it will be. It sure is being, for me, ..." and my hips moved him in Martha's mouth. "... Oh, yes! It will be, if you keep doing that, ... and that." 

Her fingers were creeping down between my thighs, that spread as my hips rolled up again. Oooh, yes! Her fingers had found my asshole as I clutched her breast, and my sister held their hips even closer, and then her hand slid back and down between them. Martha's hips moved, rocking up and then back, as she nodded and then hummed, vibrating on my cock.

"Mmmmm! Good!" I murmured as my hips moved again, and Martha's fingers pressed, and one found its way deeper as she sucked and licked my cock that was now thrusting again and again into the arousing hold of her mouth.

"Oh! Yes!" I sighed: "It's going to be real good. Uhmmm! Yes!"

Martha's and my hips rocked slowly, and my sister nodded on my thigh as she watched Martha suck my cock, saw it slowly moving in her mouth, all three of us moaning softly. When my hips began to move faster, my sister nodded again with a stronger moan and did something that made Martha's hips twitch sharply, as she moaned louder, buzzing on my cock.

"Uhmm! Yes!" I exclaimed with a gasp, clutching her breast.

Martha's body tensed as she moaned when she felt me come, moaning with each spurt in her mouth. Then I couldn't any more, and she just held me as she sighed with a satisfied sounding moan and relaxed. My sister sighed too, reminding me that she was there - and had been watching.

Martha sighed again and then moved her head back, releasing him, and then moved up, lying with her head on my shoulder and looking at me with a smile. 

"Thank you. I hope it was good enough."

"Um-hmm," she replied with a nod, and my sister also nodded on my thigh. 

For a few moments we lay still as my cock began to relax. Then my sister slid her head up my thigh and held my cock. When she slid her head up further, she could turn it back down and kiss it, then moving so that she could take it in her mouth. 

"Mmmm," I responded, and Martha chuckled softly, as I wondered if my sister now wanted to do it, maybe also wanted to know if it would be at least as good as what they had been doing all week. But then I felt her hands moving and heard her opening the packet of rubbers, her tongue stilling for a moment, but then moving when she didn't have to concentrate so much on what her hands were doing, and then stilling again as she opened the foil of one, snorting softly to herself then as her tongue began to move again, and then - with it still in her mouth - she began to move herself around, getting between my legs as she sucked him deeper into her mouth, lowering her head.

My hand slid down over Martha's ass, urging her to lie on me. She drew her leg up and let me push her hips up, straddling my legs. With both hands, I pulled her up on me a little and then letting my fingers slide down between her thighs. "Um-hmm," she responded, and I wondered if my sister was watching them, but it seemed that she was more interesting in licking the sensitive spot below his knob, as my fingers slipped down and found Martha's aroused, moist pussy.

Was my sister really going to be able to stop and want to put on the rubber and let Martha and me do it "the other way"? He was liking what she was doing - Oh, yes! Martha drew her knees up and raised her head over mine, kissing, her tongue suggesting that she wanted something else to move like that, and and now he wanted to. ;y sister drew her head up, letting him slip from between her moist lips and quickly put the rubber on him, rolling it down, and then I felt that she was drawing Martha's hips towards her. We let her, and then I felt him touch the back of my fingers, and Martha pressed herself back, and my fingers slid aside and let him touch her.

"Um-hmm!" she responded arousedly and raised her hips a little, pressing back and letting me help him find her slippery hole. He slipped into her as she sighed with a moan as her hips lowered to let him slide deep into her, and I heard my sister moan as though she were just as aroused, now obviously in a position to see what we were doing, seeing my cock disappear into Martha's tight, warm vagina. I felt her hand on my balls in my slack scrotum. Was she going to watch the whole time, already seeing my fingers finding Martha's soft asshole, who nodded and started moving her tongue again. 

If she wanted to .... Martha was already moving on him - Hmmm! And my sister's fingers were rubbing below my balls on the firm base of my aroused cock, and rubbing further. If she wanted to ... I drew my feet up and dug my heels in the mattress and began to fuck Martha - with my cock and with my finger, and she was liking it, nodding slightly as her thighs twitched and she held me both places as our hips continued to move. Had she forgotten that my sister was there? Or just didn't care? But I couldn't forget! Not the way her fingers were moving. Ooooh! She knew how good that felt! 

Then I was just taking that for granted, enjoying it as all my thoughts were with Martha, fucking and kissing, her pussy and asshole clutching again and again as her thighs twitched, clutching my sides, and then beginning to quiver as she whimpered and gasped with her aroused series of "ohs." Then whimpering, she began to spurt, all wet and warm on my hair, The sound of our hips slapping together now wet. Her pussy juice was running down on my now tight scrotum. My sister gasped slightly - either from seeing it or from feeling it on her hand. And then I came again, spurting in Martha's clutching cunt."

Martha collapsed with a final gasp and long pulsing moan and extended her legs, murmuring a soft "oh!" when her foot touched my sister, and then a mild "um-hmm," and was still, her head back next to mine as she lay heavy on me, still breathing with deep breaths as I held her, aware that my sister had removed her hand.

I opened my eyes. The room was almost dark, and my first thought was that my sister couldn't have seen Martha's orgasm, must have just felt it. What was she going to want after letting Martha go first? Martha hugged me with her arms, pressing them against mine for a moment, and then snorting slightly and moving her leg that was touching my sister, and then murmured:

"'Just to make sure.' I am, thank you."

"Me too," I agreed, understanding that "making sure" was about confirming that she still liked to fuck after all they had been doing together.

"And me too," my sister added and crawled up next to us, with her head on my other shoulder and her arm over Martha. I put my arm around her.

We all chuckled comfortably, and then Martha put her arm around my sister and raised her head and moved it past mine and gave my sister a kiss, one that got a little better, and then they both relaxed again, Martha again lying heavy on me.

Suddenly my sister snickered and said:

"I know what I want to do, ... if no one else does," and she drew her hand back from around Martha and gave her hip a shove as she added: "Move over." Martha did, sliding down next me, and snickering with me as we both apparently understood what she wanted to do. Her hand slid down and found my soft cock and slipped the rubber off him as she snorted and held it up over us, just visible in the dark, swinging from her fingers. She put it in her mouth and held up the closed end. She snorted, and then Martha and I did too, as we heard her smack her lips. She had rolled back on my arm to do this. I slid it out from under her and found her breast, her nipple soft, but then immediately aroused as she nodded and murmured:

"We wanted that, didn't we, Martha, to know if we still like it."

Martha chuckled and agreed:

"Um-hmm, and we do, ... at least as good."

"Hm-hmmm! I hope so," I agreed and fondled my sister's breast, wondering what to say, and then adding: "But maybe not for me." 

Martha chuckled again and then slid her arm up, that was still resting on me, and held my sister's other breast and massaged it for a moment, till my sister responded:

"Oooh, that's nice, both of you ..."

"Um-hmm, for us, too," Martha agreed and then snickered again as she turned her head up to me in the dark and said:

"Maybe not for you? There's one way to find out."

"Um-hmm, a real good way."

"Um-hmm, now it's her turn. ... I've had more than my share."

"I wanted you to, ... just like that, ... and that good," my sister replied and rolled back and put her arm back around Martha, and then turned her head up a little and asked:

"Is this how it was with the roommates? [He had told her about Pam and Sukie.]" and her thigh slid over mine.

"Hm-mmm! Sort of, one on each side, but not so good, ... oh, it was real good, ... too, but different, differently arousing, not knowing what they would let me do, want ..."

"But they did," my sister interjected.

"... they would want me to do. Um-hmm, but I like this better, knowing that there isn't anything you don't want me to do. ... Hm-hm-mmm! Isn't anything that you want to do."

"Hm-mmm! But you don't know what I want you to do, ... how I want you to do it," my sister replied, and almost slapped the rubber in my face as she brought her hand up and drew herself higher up on me.

"I guess not," I replied, holding her a little closer as Martha snickered and said:

"Oh, she'll tell you. She wants to tell you."

"Um-hmm," my sister agreed with a snicker and then asked: 

"Do we have to do it in the dark?"

"I'll get the candles," Martha replied and started to get up."

"Oh, yeah, that's a good idea. Thanks," and then Martha slipped away in the dark, and my sister immediately drew herself up on top of me and whispered:

"Oh, this is just great. I just love you, and kissed me, added: "for making it so good for Martha," and kissed me again eagerly, till I retrieved my tongue and said:

"And I hope I can for you, too."

"Oh, you will; I'm going to tell you how. ... Well, I hope I can, ... and that you can, ... like I want."

Martha returned with the lit candles, the image of her suddenly reminding me of some seventeenth century paint, but I knew there wasn't one of a girl standing completely nude holding two - or even one - candle, and not so completely nude, just maybe one of a girl in the light of a candle that she was holding. The artists had missed a good subject, I thought as she stood there for a moment, the candles illuminating her breasts and her public hair hardly visible below her flat stomach. Then she came and placed both candles on the bedside table and got back on the bed with her arm over my sister and whispered:

"You didn't have to wait."

"And we're not, ..." my sister replied, almost gleefully as she slid her leg off mine and started to get up: "... you know what I want him to do." Martha nodded with a chuckle and reached down and gathered my cock and balls in her hand as my sister crawled up over us, then glancing at Martha's hand, murmured: "This way," and turned, swinging her leg over my face so that she faced the foot of the bed. Martha nodded with a soft snort as she squeezed me gently, and then I was guiding my sister's hips down over my mouth.




Martha in America Ch. 15



"Mmmm!" she sighed appreciatively, and pressed her pussy down:

"Mmmm, yes! Like that! ... Don't hurry. ... Yes, there," she instructed me. With a chuckle, she continued, and my tongue obliged: 

"As deep as you can, ... um-hmm, like her tongue - like your cock - um-hmm! And there now, again - not too much ... just so I want it - Unnn! - but not that much, ... yes, there again, ... um-hmm, yes like that, there; but not so much like before, just so I want it, but can still hold still. "Unnn! ... Yes, like that, and then something else, ... like that, and then again, but not too much. Um-hmm, like that; just keeping doing that, again and again. ... Oooh, yes! Yes, like that. ... Oooh, yes! There too, if you want too. Oooh, you do!"

My tongue has found her asshole.

"I do, too. There isn't anything we don't want to do. ... Yes, again, and like that, just again and again. ... Um-hmm, so I know I can stand it, that you'll stop in time. Yes, like that. ... Oooh, that's good! ... Just like that. ... Ooooh! Yes! ... Um-hmm, but not more, ... just like that ... Unnn! Um-hmm, until I have to come, just have to come, ... but then not more. ... Uhn-hnn! ... like that, ooh-oooh! ... Yes, that's right; just don't stop, ... - ooh! ... Hm-hm-mmm! - even when my pussy wants more. ... Hn-hn-hnnn! Mmmmm! Hn-hnnnn! ... Oooh! Yes! Mmmmm! Hn-hn-hn-hnnn! Oh! Hn-hn-hnnn! Oh, Martha!! Unnn! Hn-hn-hn-hnnn!! Martha! He's doing it!!"

Had she told Martha that she was going to tell me what she wanted me to do?! Martha's hand brushed over my forehead, and then I understood that her fingers were finding Becky's asshole. Was that also planned? Also that Martha's other hand found and clutched my again aroused cock? My sister's aroused: "Yes! Like that!" probably wasn't an answer to my questions.

She managed to blurt out a couple of more instructions, but then was just moaning, groaning, her thighs twitching against me. A moment later, she started to come, spurting on my face.

My tongue found her hole to catch it, then returned to her clitoris. She was whimpering and laughing in her uncontrollable arousal, and spurted again. God, it tasted good! My sister didn't want to stop - want me to stop - although it seemed she must be completely spent - but she still wanted more. If she did, I did!

Finally, she collapsed, dropping down on me and then rolling to the side off me as her hand found Martha's around my cock, and then she was just gasping and sighing with loud moans.

Martha squeezed me, and then with a snort slid her other hand around my cheek, turning it and putting her finger in my mouth. I nodded as I sucked on it and thought that there wasn't anything that I didn't want to do, either, and appreciated that Martha had thought that I might want to, and licked her finger to confirm that she had been right. She wiggled it in response, and we both snorted, and then she removed it and stroked my cheek and whispered:

"I think you did, ... like she wanted."

"Um-hmm. I hope so. ... Like you do, too."

"Hmm! Um-hmm, sometimes. ... How did you guess?"

"Hm-hmm!" How else would she know that she did."

"Um-hmm!"

"You two must have had a good time."

"We did, real good, thank you, ... for telling us that we would like it."

"I'm glad."

"Hm-hmm! She thought you would. 'All the best one's do,' you said."

"Oh? Yeah, I guess they are. But you were before, as best as could be."

"And she was too, apparently."

"Um-hmm. ... I guess you ... talked about everything."

"I think so. We must have. Hm-hmm! Liking that we could share you. Kind of funny, ... real funny, at first talking about you, and then anticipating that we could - really 'share you.' ... I wasn't so sure how that would be, but she seemed to think that it would be no problem."

"I sure didn't," Becky rejoined and squeezed Martha's hand on my now soft cock."

Martha and I both snorted, and I agreed:

"I didn't, either, thank you."

"Thank you! Hm-hmm! We talked about that too - whether you could do it that good. You did," my sister replied.

"With your help;" Martha added: "You said you were going to tell him what you wanted."

"And did, thanks. If that's what you like, you taught me something."

"But only after we learned how, ourselves."

Um-hmm! I'm glad, but now I want something to eat -something else to eat - and to drink."

"Me, too," my sister enjoined and sat up, grinning down at me in the candlelight.

"Me, too," Martha agreed, sliding her fingers down around my balls and massaging them for a moment before she also sat up. Then she got up and took the candles as my sister stood up, and then I did.

"Oh," my sister said, and held up the rubber that she still had clutched in her hand, snorting, and then found the foil wrapping and took them to the bathroom while Martha and I went to the kitchen, smiling at each other as I again recalled my thoughts about a seventeenth century painting and snorted.

Martha glanced at me again with a smile and asked: "What was that for? I told her, and she smiled again, holding out the candles and letting me look at her as she glanced down at her stiff nipples and then smiled at me again and remarked:

"I like that. Some of the paintings let you think it could have been sort of like this."

"Um-hmm, or at least the artists or their customers wanted pictures that could suggest it."

"Um-hmm," she agreed with another smile and set the candles down.

My sister returned and turned on the light, making us all blink for a moment as she asked what we had been talking about. I told her as Martha got us all beers, snickering as my sister remarked: "But probably they didn't," and then we all opened our cans and with a "skaal" smiled and drank and smiled again, and then Martha got the hamburger patties from the refrigerator. We agreed that we could share the four of them three ways. 

As Martha tended to the hamburgers, my sister grinned at me and took a sip, and I did too, and said softly: 

"Next time, I want to see your pretty pussy."

"And I want you to, too," she agreed with a smirk.

"Don't make me jealous," Martha remarked and turned and smiled at us both.

"You know yours is just as pretty, ... at least, I do," my sister replied.

"Thanks!" Martha responded with a snort.

"It is, and I've seen more than Becky has," I remarked with a slight smirk.

Martha snorted again with a grin and replied:

"If that was a compliment, at least no one else ever told me that before."

"None looked," I replied and held up my beer can. Becky raised hers and added:

"They should have," and grinned: "Here's looking at you. Skaal."

We all snickered as Martha found her can and grinned at each other and drank, and snickered again, and then I joined Martha to turn the hamburgers, fondling her ass with my other hand, and she enjoyed it, smiling over at me as my fingers started to rub between her cheeks, but then snickered and said: 

"Not in front of the children." 

"Oh, Mother used to say that, but not when Daddy was doing that," Becky remarked.

"No, when they were starting to argue about something," I explained.

"Mine did, though, - Hm-hmm! -- but not when he was doing that," and she tightened her ass on my fingers: "... long before."

We all snickered again, and I remarked:

"I like that, that he did."

"I do too, now that I know what it's about," Martha agreed .

"I do, too," I heard my sister say softly, close behind me as I felt her hand on my ass."

"Um-hmm," I agreed: "... me too."

"Um-hmm," she responded cheerfully and squeezed my ass.

Then the hamburgers were ready, and Martha served them while I got us another beer and three glasses, and we all sat down with smiles to our candlelight dinner.

We helped ourselves to Martha's salads, my sister glancing at us with a grin and remarked: "At least Mother would approve of the candles and glasses." 

We all chuckled and raised our glasses and said "skaal" and smiled at each other and began to eat. Becky and I complimented Martha's salads, to which she replied that it should really be fresh dill in the dressing for the green salad. Then we talked about what we had done during the week. Of course, I didn't tell about the evening with the girl from work, but their telling about what they had done passed the time very entertainingly for all of us.

At first, they just mentioned how they had quickly agreed about nude sunbathing and that Martha had admitted that she and I had slept with each other all week. Then my sister explained how nice it had been, the way Martha had been understanding about our having done so, and how good it was, that they could talk about it, that it didn't have to be a secret from her. Martha and I exchanged glances and smiles as I - and probably she - recalled our conversations about that. 

Then they told about the student from Minnesota, his joining them for lunch and buying beer for them, and then about Martha's witty send-off to the other two young men, to which I responded that it had turned out to be good that my sister had mentioned that to our mother, because it had made her think it was a good idea that I join them for the weekend. Then they told how that had led to their visiting the couple, which I had also heard about, of course, but now I understood why they had, and remarked that it had really impressed our parents:

"if maybe for the wrong reason, but it had been a good move, both ways, and apparently also a nice experience." 

I was still wondering how they had started, not about being naked and talking about my having slept with both of them, about how had they ended up sleeping with each other so quickly. I ventured to ask. They looked at each other, their nipples popping out, as they shrugged with slight smirks. My sister shrugged again, looking at Martha for her to reply. 

"I don't know, either, now," Martha agreed: "... but we did."

"Um-hmm," Becky agreed with grin and nod and enjoined, looking at me: 

"You were right, we just loved it."

"Yes, that was the problem, ... no, not a problem," and Martha smiled at me: "... just that it was so good, ... of course. Why not? Of course, it was good."

"Real good!" 

"Hm-hmm! Um-hmm, 'real good'," Martha agreed, smiling at Becky, then looking at me and remarking: 

"Before ... with you ... it might have been a 'problem'."

"Hm-hmm! But without 'me', it probably wouldn't have happened."

"It sure wouldn't have, from my side."

"And how did it?"

"Hmm! You know your sister; she asked if we didn't want to."

"No, I didn't ask, I said that I wanted to, ... and you were already holding me."

"Hmm. You had put my hands on your breasts, ... your Courbet's 'Woman in the Waves' breasts."

"He told you about that?! ... You let me. It was out on the deck in the dark."

"I can imagine," I remarked with a chuckle.

"Hm-umm. Martha had already said that it seemed like I wanted to say something.

"Um-hmm, of course. You did."

"Um-hmm, but it sounds like you helped her," I remarked to Martha.

"I guess I did. Yes, I was curious, too. Why not? We both knew how good it is, and how much you like to do it, ... and those girls. So we did."

"In your bed."

"Of course, ... sort of as though I were there too, making it a little more better, ... okay."

"I don't think we thought about that," my sister replied with a glance at Martha.

"I didn't, she agreed and grinned: "... just sort of glad that it was all dark."

"Um-hmm, maybe me, too. But then the next morning we didn't mind."

"Hmm! Um-hmm, ... you made me want to, sucking my breast ..."

"And I wanted to, ... and for you to, too."

"Hm-hmm! I can imagine. You don't need to tell me the details; I think I've got the picture."

Martha looked at me and smiled a little wryly, looking as though she was glad I had suggested we could leave that subject, and then looked at our empty plates and said:

"If no one wants any more, I guess we can clean up."

We shook our heads, and I remember to say: "Takk for maten." Martha smiled and replied: "Vel bekomme." 

"What's that about?" my sister asked as we got up, each taking a plate and one of the serving dishes.

"A nice Norwegian custom, always thanking the hostess for the meal," I explained.

"Oh, of course. That's nice. Thank you, Martha, for a lovely dinner. ... Oh, that's why you did so after dinner last night. That's nice. What do you say?

"'Takk for maten'; thank you for the meal."

"Oh, 'Takk for maten.' And you say: 'You're welcome'?"

"Sort of. Really it means: I hope you enjoyed it, ... or more exactly: that I hope the meal was good, ... 'becomes you'."

"Nice. I guess you two practiced that two week ago, together at home." 

By now we were in the kitchen.

"Um-hmm," I agreed: "... even with her fish balls and ..."

"Fish balls?" Becky interjected.

"... and white cream sauce," I finished.

Martha, who was stacking the plates, snickered. Becky hesitated and then smirked and said:

"Like ... 'all that white stuff'?" and giggled.

"You catch on too fast," I replied with a snort, as Martha snickered again.

"Didn't you want me to?" Becky asked, grinning, and then asked: "How can I help?"

"You can cover and put away the salads," Martha suggested.

She started to, putting away the potato salad, then finding a fork and finishing the rest of the green salad, remarking that it would be all wilted and unattractive the next day, to which Martha and I agreed, as we finished clearing up, leaving the dish washing for the next morning.