Bill Peirce got home Thursday night to find Carolyn arranging her office space. Her kiss was warm even though she looked a little distracted. She tasted only slightly of tobacco.

"I was going to cook for you, but this was just sitting here."

"I understand. Too bad you couldn't have had it for writing your papers. You still need a desk. Anyway, we can go out to eat."

"No! I'm done with school. I'm going to be a wife. Mind if I thaw something out?"

"Not at all." Carolyn's left-overs were still Carolyn's good cooking. Still, he should take her out while she had attention to enjoy it. "If you're done with school, why don't you meet me downtown tomorrow night? We can shop for a desk, and then go out to eat there."

"Really?" That expression had bugged him at one time. But she wasn't doubting him; she just wanted to hear it again.

"Really. You don't need me, you know, for the shopping. Your card is good. Still, I'd like to see it with you." Carolyn had a tendency to be penny wise. Scrimping now and replacing something later would be pound foolish, And he ought to warn her about where he planned to take her. She still thought of jeans as normal wear. For a Friday night, he'd make a reservation.

For all her apology, she fixed a meal that was delicious, if a little late. His times to get back home were -- even now, and he was better than he'd been when he hadn't had her to come home to -- erratic enough that it would be silly to expect to eat as soon as he entered the door. She might well be projecting her hunger onto him. She'd missed a lot of sleep, and that always made <b>him</b> hungry when he did.

"Feel better?" he asked when they'd eaten.

"A little.... Look... I'm awfully tired. I want to make an early night of it." Now, that was another thing entirely. He'd been understanding when she stayed up late the night before. She'd had a deadline. But he wanted her, and wanted her more tonight for the deprivation of last night.

"Two nights in a row? And you're not bleeding." Her cutting him off during her periods was still a sore point.

"Let's compromise. I want to go to bed now, and to sleep fairly soon. I'll crash. I certainly won't be in the mood if you wake me up at ten or eleven. On the other hand, if we both go to bed now, I won't blame you if you get up later." That was entirely different. Right after dinner was probably not the best time for sex from a practical standpoint, but it would be fun.

"That's different. Want your bathroom time first?"

"Not tonight. I don't want to lie in bed alone." Which wasn't what she'd said about his getting up later, but that was no problem. He got his contacts out in case he wouldn't get up again and hurried through his other chores.

She, despite her insistence that she was in a hurry, took more than her usual time. She reset her alarm -- standing there naked, but looking blurry at that distance -- before coming to bed.

If she didn't want him, which her excuses suggested, then he should work at making her want him. Besides, not having had anything the night before, he was probably on a hair trigger. He took his time with the kiss, loving her tongue, exploring her mouth, returning to her tongue. Meanwhile, he slid his fingers all over her lovely body from thigh to neck and back again. He might have spent more time on her melons than on her shoulder, but he touched her shoulder on the way.

Apparently, she did start to want him. She pulled his hand to her mound. That was another place to play, but she probably intended him to investigate her snatch. When he did it was damp, if not as flowing as he sometimes found it. He stroked some of that moisture up to her nub. He kept stroking here while he kissed up her melon to its tip. Soon after he started sucking there, she went over.

That was one. He changed melons, but she was impatient. She grabbed his dick and pulled it to her.

"Huh." That wasn't the brightest comment he could have made, but she wasn't usually that direct.

"Now, Bill." Well, that was clear. He got between her legs, and she put him in. She was warm around his dick. The sensations were exciting, maybe too exciting. When he began to move, she encouraged him by clutching his buns. He tried to take it slow enough to bring her along, but his body took over. The slide of her snatch around him on every withdrawal made the next plunge more necessary. The clasp along the length of his dick when he was inside made the next withdrawal more imperative. Against his will, he moved faster through her warmth. He rose up above her on straight arms and drove his hips forward until every in stroke was hard, deep, and fast.

After he'd gone over, quite alone, he kept his right arm straight while his left arm collapsed. He fell to his side and out of her. Somewhat later, he got off her leg and straightened the sheet and blanket over the two of them. He cuddled against her as close as he could while she was lying on her back.

"I love you, Carolyn." But she didn't respond. Really, if she hadn't gone over at the end, it was her own fault. He could usually control himself early in the sex session, but he'd never claimed to be able to delay orgasm at the end. Well, if she'd gone to sleep angry, she was now asleep instead of angry. He got to feel all her luscious curves without objection. Except, he didn't. After a bit, she murmured and wriggled under his hand. He got up, lifted the covers, and looked his fill. The hair on her mound was damp with dampness he'd caused and mussed by the friction of his pubic hair against it. Then he covered her again.

If they were going to get her desk the next day, they should probably get the dining room table, too. He put on his robe first. Then he measured the dining room with a yardstick, wrote the figures down, and put them in his suit coat for the next day. He drank a beer in the kitchen. It was stupid to miss Carolyn when she was in the next room. If she was paying him not the least attention, she hadn't for most of the time in the past week. He put his contacts back in watch television, including two news shows. The news wasn't that different at ten than it was at eight.

When he went back to bed, Carolyn hadn't moved. He turned off the lamp and lay beside her. This time, she didn't stir when he felt her up. He could understand necrophiles, now.

In the morning, she didn't wake when his alarm went off. He looked in after his shower to see if she wanted to share breakfast. Her alarm was set for 10:00, and she didn't look like she'd notice anything earlier. He could tell that she was breathing, but otherwise she looked ready for an undertaker. Before leaving for work, he set his alarm for 11:00. It might not be needed, but something might be.

He got to work early. His normal morning schedule allowed some time for dealing with Carolyn before leaving for work. At noon, he called home. She answered promptly, proving all his worries unnecessary. He ate a cheap lunch, planning on an expensive dinner.

Carolyn came to the office a little before quitting time. She looked rested, lovely, and quite over any anger she'd had the night before. She got to see his office, and they left promptly at 5:00.

"Sorry if I disturbed your day," she said when they were away from the office. Well, he was an executive, and entitled to have guests <b>sometimes</b>.

"They wanted to see you. That was fine. A pattern of visits, though, would be disturbing."

"You have rules?" she asked.

"And they're never written down. Who did you ask about how teaching assistants dress?"

"Cynthia who'd taught the year before."

"And not the people who told you where to go and what your pay was," he pointed out.

"Well, no."

"They'd tell you that anything would be all right. If I asked Mr. Watkins if it were all right for you to visit me every afternoon, he'd say that it was fine. He'd say that, and he'd mark me as unfit for my present position, let alone any possible promotion. Anyway..."

"Anyway, we're off to get me my own desk."

"Want to select a dining-room table on this trip, too?" He might as well ask that now. They didn't have to.

"Sure, but the people who'll be judging it are your friends."

"I have the measurements -- got them last night." Which brought up the subject of the previous night. Well, better get it out in the open. "About last night... I'm sorry."

"For what? Look, Bill, I didn't get all that much sexual pleasure on the last <b>two</b> nights. Neither of them can be blamed on you." She wasn't mad, and she wasn't going to be.

"Feel better now?"

"Feel rested now," she said. "Ate us almost out of our larder this morning -- this noon, really."

"Yeah. I saw that your alarm was set for 10. I set mine for 11. Was it a great bother?"

"It was needed," she said. "It almost wasn't enough."

"You were awake when I phoned."

"Bill, you're sweet."

"Well, I was worried. You didn't even stir when I got up. I checked that you were still breathing before I left." And he had been worried. She put her hand in his on that statement. They were an old married couple, but not too old to hold hands.

As he'd expected, her first choice in a desk was a light student desk. He pointed out that she'd want something for the rest of her life. Besides -- although he didn't mention this -- when he saw some of the solid wooden ones, he thought of another use for them. She could spend most of her time in front of one, but she'd look splendid spread-eagle on top of one.

The dinner table was a less permanent acquisition. The restaurant dinner was fine, and he suspected that she enjoyed some good eating which didn't involve any cooking on her part. Back home, they had a nice kiss and settled down on the sofa together to watch television. These days, he paid more attention to the programs than he did to her body while the set was on. He could still enjoy, however, her responses to the shows.

"Let's not," she said when the news came on. She was probably right. The news media were biased, 'nattering nabobs of negativism' in Vice President Agnew's memorable phrase, and she always got sucked in. That was certain to cause a fight.

"You're right. I can get it all from the <i>Trib</i> tomorrow." And the <i>Trib</i> was less biased than the newscasts. Nothing on the news would change anything he did before tomorrow -- well, he could check the weather on the radio before going out the door. It's just that getting the news a few hours earlier had become a habit.

"Brush my hair?" Now that was an offer, and she was being sweet. He'd suspect that it was 'cause they'd just bought her a substantial piece of furniture, but not from Carolyn. She actually had wanted a less-substantial piece of furniture. It might be making up for the deprivation over the past two weeks of crush time. It might be that she was feeling extra loving.

It might just be because the hair obviously needed the attention he was more willing to give it than she was. She had some awful snarls. One he even had to cut out. He managed to tease the rest straight with only a few pulled out. He winced each time, but she didn't seem to.

He was really turned on by the time they went to bed. She, too, was receptive and warm. And, by the time he got to her snatch, wet. He watched her go over. It was incredibly arousing, and then she went over again and then again. She reached for him after the third. He might have got her readier, but discussion on that subject wouldn't help in the slightest.

"Okay!" He got in position, and slid in. If her groove had felt nice to his fingers, the inside of her snatch felt marvelous on his dick. "Carolyn." If the name couldn't communicate how he felt, the tone might give a hint. He thrust deep into her, withdrew slowly until his dick was barely inside, and then thrust slowly all the way home.

As he rose on his arms to get more depth down below and repeated those motions, her welcoming smile turned to a frown, the frown to a scowl. She looked worried, then frightened as she kept rose against him to match his slow rhythm. As her expression went through pain to agony, she went over. Her legs rose around his hips at the same time as her snatch clasped his dick.

He took one more stroke, buried himself in her depths, and poured out into her. He let his left arm collapse while his right kept straight. That dropped him to his left side, but Carolyn went with him. Her thighs were gripping his hips.

"Sweet," he said when he'd caught his breath.

"You're the sweet one." They lay in that mutual sweetness for a few more minutes before getting themselves into true sleeping positions. It was almost too warm for a blanket in this weather, although it would be cooler before morning and the electric blanket didn't hold much heat when it was turned off. Carolyn snuggled back against him -- too warm or no -- and they went to sleep.

After offering him her hair Friday night, she offered to share a shower Saturday morning. That led back to bed, and he'd have been content to spend Saturday there. She wasn't, however. He cooked breakfast and she prepared tuna salad sandwiches for lunch.

Still in full domestic mode, Carolyn cooked a western omelet for Sunday breakfast and a pot roast for Sunday dinner. She served meat loaf, left over meat loaf, but delicious and with new vegetable, salad, and dessert for supper.

"You're spoiling me."

"Well," she replied, "the crunch time depleted my stock of left-overs. And this freezer is bigger. It will hold more meals worth. And you'll have left-over pot roast this week." Most of which had entered into her decision, but none of which challenged his previous statement.

"You're still spoiling me. We didn't eat out that much on your last crunch time." And, while she'd start to work on her dissertation soon -- he quite understood her taking a break from academic work -- the next crunch time was far in their future. Surely, she should expect to eat out in normal times.

She got up with him, ate breakfast with him, and kissed hem at the door Monday morning. It was the sort of kiss that made him want to take her back to bed, but he knew he couldn't.

Her kisses as he left and as he came home were lovely for the next days, but her welcome-home kiss Wednesday was especially hot.

"Well!" It was an inadequate comment, but it was all he could think of.

"You're home, and it is a home. Come see." The dining-room table had come. She'd set it, and there was some food smell wafting from the kitchen. Had her desk come, too? Well, this was what she wanted to show him. She was deep in her domestic mood.

"All set? And are we going to eat in here, now?" He'd somehow pictured the dining room as an entertainment room for guests. He'd still prefer breakfasts in the kitchen, but -- after all -- he normally cooked breakfasts and served them up.

"Not every night for just the two of us. Tonight is special." And that night was special, although he could tell she'd have preferred to serve lobster than mac-&-cheese for their first night in the new dining room. Well, she cooked tasty mac-&-cheese. Then, too, they had a grocery budget. He trusted her to keep within it.

"Somehow, I feel that this is our real home now. We were just camping out before." She was still feeling domestic, the nesting instinct.

"The old place was kind of cramped." He'd felt the cramp for his clothes-space, but she'd had much the worse of it -- having to study in odd corners. Which brought up the office and, with it, the desk. "And did your desk come, too?"

"I thought you'd never ask. Come see." With the desk, the space looked like an office. She had her bookcases to one side. She already had more books than would fit. A few of those were stacked on a far corner of the desk. There was also an ashtray containing two butts on the near right-hand corner. The room already stank of cigarettes.

But the important thing was that most of the rest of the desk was clear, easily enough space to hold Carolyn.

"Impressive. This is your home, now," he told her. "And, being your home, welcome home." she looked a little confused, but she came into his arms willingly enough. The welcome-home kiss was sweet, the taste of salad dressing completely covering the taste of tobacco. He kept his left arm around her while his right hand covered her melons. Then his left hand pulled her against him by her buns. She objected, though, when he started in on her jeans.

"Bill, after all, we have a bed."

"Yep, but I've been thinking of this ever since I saw that this was the desk you'd selected." She was unresisting but uncooperative for another minute. Then she went back into the kiss.

When he'd got her clothes down around her knees, he lifted her. That hug was pleasurable, but he lowered her to the desk. He got her legs in his hands when he stepped back. First one shoe and sock, then the other, then the jeans and panties on that leg, then the jeans and panties on the first leg. Bottomless on the desk, she looked like a sacrificial victim on a pagan altar. Carolyn a victim? As if!

He had a bit of trouble unbuttoning her blouse with his left hand, but the right hand was busy with more important work. This was her space, but the space he was preparing was more intimately hers. This room would be her space, and he would seldom be in here. This snatch was her space, the space that was Carolyn, and he belonged in it. He tickled her thighs while resuming the kiss to get her in the mood. And she got into the mood, at least partially. Her groove was nice and juicy when he finally reached it. He gave up on unhooking a bra with his left hand and stroked the tip of her melon instead.

He had broken the kiss to watch her face. He might have taken her expression for deep pain if he hadn't seen it before. Then she grimaced and went over.

"Oh Carolyn." That sight was so arousing that he was hard as stone in his pants. She eased slowly backwards on the desk as he held a leg to keep her from toppling. Then he lifted her legs and pulled her towards him so that her buns were on the edge and her lovely snatch was available. He tried to get her excited again with his right hand while his left took care of his own clothes. The desk didn't put her quite high enough, but he bent down to get his dick in her sweet, slick, groove. He felt the right place.

"Oh Carolyn!" He was right there, and she was so warm. He bent his knees, but straightened his torso as he pressed into her space. He lifted her legs onto his shoulders, raising her snatch a millimeter somehow. He rested his hand lightly on her delta and thumbed her nub as he began his movements.

He tried to hold back, but he couldn't. She was close enough, though, that she went over a second after he did.

With relief came weakness. The posture had been awkward enough when he had his full strength and the extra added by desire. He eased her legs off his shoulders, then straightened his own legs. That took his dick out of her space.

"There's a dustcloth on the chair. Give it to me." She put it to her snatch which must have been oozing his cum out of it. After all that they'd just been through, Carolyn was still in housekeeper mode.

"That must be dirty." He didn't want her getting her lovely snatch irritated by something on the dustcloth. "You have panties that I could have got. For that matter, I have boxers." And then he saw the problem with that suggestion. "Although they'd be hard to take off right now. I'm still wearing my shoes."

"I hope that this didn't get into the wood of the desk." He hoped that it had. This was her room, her place to be an academic. He was excluded, really. But he wanted her to smell him when she was studying, remember the other possible use of this space -- remembering him and the passion that they had shared, could share again. Realistically, though, that wouldn't happen. If she ever caught a whiff of him, her first cigarette afterwards would overcome it.

"Tomorrow, you won't be able to smell it."

"Help me up," she replied. He did, and then worked to get himself in better order.

"You'll not wear that suit until it's been to the cleaners." She was still in house-wife mode. Would she ever be in charge of the dry cleaning? Probably not.

"Worth it though." When he'd got the trousers around his waist, he sat on the corner of the desk which didn't hold an ashtray to take his shoes off.

"You are seriously sick."

"Just because I like to make love to you?" After all, she'd enjoyed it, too.

"We do have a bed, you know."

"Sure, and we have a pressure cooker, too. You fix meals that don't use it." He left her with that thought and went to the bedroom. He hung his trouser with the others headed for the cleaners and put his shirt in the wash. He came back in a robe. Fun time was over; it was work time again.

"I'd better get the dishes now. The cheese will have hardened on the plates."

When he had the dishes in the drainer, he went to watch television. She joined him. Disapproving of his sexual appetites or not, she didn't object to cuddling in his arms while they watched. When the news came on, he turned the television off. She used the bathroom first. When he got to the bedroom, she was lying there wearing sheet, blanket, and nothing else. That might be a problem.

"Look, I'm not sure I'm ready yet."

"You bitch when I deny you." He didn't bitch. He expected her to keep her wedding vows, cleaving unto him. And she took nearly one night in four of exceptions to them, anyway. It wasn't as though he was asking for a <b>long</b> dry spell -- less than 30 hours.

"Well, how about a compromise?" He'd accepted her compromise in good grace, although he had to admit that he had enjoyed it greatly. "I'll do my best to get you over, but don't complain if I can't get over." She didn't say so, but she might enjoy his orgasms as much as he enjoyed hers.

"Like?"

"I'll do what I can with my finger, but don't expect my dick."

"Well, if you're not ready, it's your own fault." Which was one way of putting it. On the other hand, would she have agreed on going into her study tonight?

"Maybe, but I didn't exactly leave you high and dry," he pointed out.

"Okay." She might say something like "if you absolutely insist," when she was flirting, but her agreement -- if she was going to give an agreement -- was always straight-forward when she was being serious. Carolyn was the most female woman he'd ever met, but there was nothing feminine about her.

Well, there were advantages in not being consumed by lust. He could take as long on the foreplay as he thought he needed to -- rather than as long as he could stand. He kissed her while he caressed her entire body instead of heading for the sexiest parts straight away. And, really, Caroline had sexy arms as well as sexy thighs, a sexy chin as well as sexy melons. And she had especially sexy hair -- in all sorts of places.

"You think that I only love the hair on your head." Actually, the hair on her mound might be even more attractive, even though it was short and probably would never be longer. He played with it for a while, combing his fingers through it. He stroked the curls flat and then stroked them to stand up.

He circled one melon with kisses about two-thirds of the way towards the tip. Then he stroked her groove. He got closer and closer to her nub on each stroke without quite touching it. When his kisses up her melon reached the tip, he stroked over the nub.

He kept his touch as light as possible and licked the tip of the melon, sucking only occasionally. When he felt her tense, he snuck a peek at her face. She was almost ready to go over. He stroked more rapidly and less gently while sucking forcefully on her tip. She went over.

"You're wonderful." And she was wonderful, so responsive, so warm. He gave her a break, switching to her other melon and simply rubbing the lips of her snatch against one another. When she looked ready for it, he switched to more direct stimulation. She went over again. The woman was a wonder.

"So responsive." He could have gone on like that until she told him that she wanted to stop. Instead, she rolled her hip against his dick.

"That feels ready to go." Well, his dick always thought it was able to perform. Sometimes it was right, but not always.

"Well, don't blame me if it's a fizzle." If he were lying on her and got tired, she would be crushed. If she were on top and his dick softened, it would be quite embarrassing. There was another way.

"Roll away from me," he said. She did, and came back close to him. With her help, he got his dick in, still reasonably firm. "Raise your leg." That enabled him to reach her nub from this position.

He kissed the back of her neck. Then he resumed stimulating her. He moved in and out, not far in and out from this position, to keep himself hard. She sometimes pushed back against him, which got him in deeper and increased his pleasure. He might not come, but he was enjoying the sensations immeasurably. The most sensitive part of his dick was moving through the tightest part of her snatch, the entrance. It was even tighter like this. She seemed to be getting something out of it, too. Indeed, after a time, she went over. It was delightful to feel from this position, but he still wasn't sure he'd get over.

"Carolyn." She might not take his warnings seriously, but she was till the ultimate in sexuality. He kept on with his pace and his strokes on her nub. She moved, not simply the movements of the rhythm, but something permanent. It took her neck out of kissing range, but it pushed her snatch around his dick. He could now take longer strokes without coming out, and he took them.

He was already feeling the familiar tension when she went over yet again. He grabbed her and drove into her even more deeply and more rapidly.

"Carolyn! Gah!" He went over, pumping into her whatever was left over from the last time. The sensations of the sex had ben exquisite; the relief from going over only moderate. He hoped that she'd got some pleasure, too. She immediately moved her torso back against his chest. Partially from that motion, he felt his dick leave her snatch. Even so, there wasn't much necessity to move when they'd been in this position.

"Get the light, would you?" she suddenly asked.

"Sure." He rolled over to click the lamp off. She moved into the space he'd vacated. Yeah, from how far he'd had to reach for the lamp, he must have been taking up most of the bed. "Sorry." She didn't answer, but when he hugged her, she hugged his arm. They fell asleep curled together.