Message-ID: <11446eli$9805201514@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Jay Bird Subject: {ASSM} Gifts by fcp (MF, rom, oral, 27k) <*> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980520001957.16121.rocketmail@send1b.yahoomail.com> This is a sequel to my previous story, Marie's Gift. I have tried to make it stand up alone; if I failed, I'm sorry. I would like to thank Ivan, Forrest, and Galillee for their kind letters of praise and encouragement. In fact, I would like to thank Ivan for his invaluable assistance in finding dramatic mistakes, unjustifiable foreshadowing, illogical dialog, and overly rushed passages. Any faults that remain are my responsibility alone. Anyhow, this is going to be a bit talky, but you probably expected that. Feel free to comment by email or on ASSD. If you're interested, you can find Marie's Gift in the ASSM archive at http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/10534.txt This story is copyright 1998 by First Category Press, publishers of countably many nowhere dense articles (of all sorts) for over twenty years. All rights reserved. I grant permission for non-commercial archiving and storage provided this file is not altered in any way. Don't sell it; don't charge anyone for reading it. Don't repost it; I'll do that if and when I want, thank you. Oh, and don't read it if you are under 18 years old. Try Judy Blume. Or J. D. Salinger. Or, try One on One by Tabitha King. You won't regret that. Gifts (MF, rom, oral) by fcp "Wheee! It's flying!" "Great, Matthew! Now, run into the wind and let the string out a little." "Daddy, it's going so high!" My wife, Donna, had shooed us out of the house so she could take a relaxing hot bath in peace. So, Matt and I were in the backyard, between the house and our now-bare cornfields, taking turns flying a kite. I enjoy watching Matthew; everything is new to him, and every new day gives him something to explore. He's a happy, self-confident kid. He'll be five next month; I just pray that he'll have a safer time growing up than I did. "Hi! Having fun, aren't you!" Donna had just come out of the house, holding a cup of Ovaltine and another of coffee. I kissed her and took the coffee cup from her, and she went out to Matt. "Mommy, Mommy, look!" "I see! May I try it while you have your snack?" "Here, Mommy!" He gulped down some of the drink. "Thank you." Donna has trained him well. I put my cup down and walked over to them. Donna was holding the stick and swaying in time to the motion of the kite. I stood next to her and curled my arm around her waist, and we turned to each other and kissed. Looking at Donna, I found it hard to believe that she had spent much of last night ravishing me, sucking me for the first time, letting me rest, and then fucking me from above. She had never been so wanton toward me before. I enjoyed it, but I had to change the way I thought of her. The night before last, I had told Donna of the my small part in the Second World War, of the fighting in France in the summer of 1944, and of the battles that still fill my nightmares. I also had told her of the one moment of peace I had during those dreadful months, when a sweet French girl welcomed me to her bed, held me, comforted me, and made gentle love to me with her mouth and her body. I told her how, after a terrible nightmare of war, gentle Marie would appear in my dreams to comfort me. I had worried that Donna would reject me for my faithlessness, both during the war, and in my dreams. Instead, she had acted delightfully wild, doing to me what Marie had done ten years before. I felt as though our marriage had become stronger, and I looked at her with wonder. "James, I just spoke with June Jordan. Their car is running again, and she's going to bring Chris over to play with Matt." "I can handle that. Chris is a good kid. Did you hear that, Matt? Chris Jordan's coming over." "Yay!" Matt took back the kite from Donna and started to maneuver it. While he was occupied, Donna turned back to me. "Hon, there's a dance at the Legion Hall tonight. The Jordans are willing to have Matt stay there overnight; I'll pack up good clothes for church tomorrow. Is that okay with you?" "When was the last time we went dancing, Donna?" "I don't remember. Five years ago, I think. Before we had Matt." "I think that you're right--we're overdue for a night on the town." "Do you think we'll remember how to dance?" "I don't think you ever forget. Besides, you don't have to do much in the slow ones." --- Matt was quite happy to go with the Jordans; his playmate Chris is the youngest of four lively children, and Matt enjoys being in the midst of their hubbub. Meanwhile, Donna and I had a rare chance for a romantic dinner. I broiled some lamb chops and set the table, while Donna steamed some asparagus and tossed a salad. We changed into our fanciest clothes and sat down to our candlelight dinner. "Donna, we could always just stay here tonight. I can think of some things to do while Matt's away." "James. We won't be out too late, I assure you. Besides, we have plenty of time." "Donna, I adore you. I must say that you really surprised me last night. I thought you'd turn away from me." She reached for my hand. "Never. You make me so happy." "Well, you really are a mystery to me. I like it, but what's happening to us?" "We're talking to each other. You had told me so little of what happened to you in the war, and the war changed everything about you." "I told you so little about the war because I wanted to protect you from it. There are parts of it I can hardly bear to think about." "You don't need to protect me. I am your wife, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy." "And I your husband, now and forever." "Before the war, you had been a prankster; I remember how you rewired the principal's car and left it at the lovers' lane with two scarecrows inside." "Do you have to dredge up ancient history?" "I think he was most angry that the scarecrows had gin bottles in their mouths." "Well, yes. I was a wild kid. I thought I was dashing." "After you came back, you were much more serious. You were also much more tender. Every day was precious to you. I'd see you look at me with that smile of yours. You always had this look of awe as if I were a precious gift to you, always special, always new." "Every day is precious to me. By all rights, I should be dead and buried in a French grave." "And when Matt came, I'd see you standing by his crib with this incredulous look on your face. I see you with him now, so attentive, watching him discover the world and enjoying it with him. Do you know how that makes me feel?" I tried to say something, but no words came. She leaned over the table and kissed me. I didn't have to say anything. "James, I am so lucky to have you and Matt. Never forget that." We finished the meal in silence. We'd look at each other and smile, we'd hold hands, and we blew each other the occasional kiss. After we washed the dishes, we walked hand-in-hand to the car, and we drove to the Legion Hall, her hand resting lightly upon mine on the gearshift. --- We arrived at the Hall early; still, it was nearly full. They had imported a swing band from the state capitol. The band was not as good as the bands I heard at the English USOs, but I didn't care. Swing wasn't popular any more; its era had passed. But it was our music; we grew up with it, we danced to it, and the bands helped distract us from the war when we needed distraction. Swing was the sound of our lives; Benny Goodman was on the radio the first time I kissed Donna, and a Glenn Miller record was playing when I proposed to her. And swing was in eclipse, a thing of the past. Not tonight, however, not for Donna and I. I led Donna onto the dance floor, and we had a delightful time. I don't think we ever missed a signal or botched a turn; it was as if we were thinking the same thoughts. She's too tall and I'm too stiff for us to do some of the more acrobatic moves, but we did ourselves proud. Once, she leapt into my arms, I raised her past shoulder-height, and I threw her into a somersault, catching her on the way down. The years were falling away from us; it seemed almost as if we were 18 again, back in '41, that last innocent year for America. Something odd happened, however. When the band switched moods and played some slow songs, many of the dancers took a break. Some went for the punchbowl, and others went outside for a smoke. We stayed on the dance floor, and I noticed Phil and Mary Andersen step onto the floor. I hadn't realized they were here; Phil took a permanent limp home from Korea along with his Purple Heart, and I could not imagine his dancing much, but here they were. They saw us and waved. I waved back, and I was surprised to see my wife wave back too. "Donna, I thought you were angry at them. They interrupted our bridge game, and for what?" My voice dropped to a whisper: "So Mary could pay off a side bet by sucking Phil's cock." "Well, in a way I'm grateful to them. After all, if Mary hadn't done that to Phil, you never would have told me your war story. You would have kept your nightmares and your pains secret from me. How can I help you then?" "And do you mind my pleasant dreams? Can you forgive me for still thinking of Marie? Are you angry about what happened in France?" "I don't think there's anything to forgive. She helped you survive a nightmare; I'm glad. And I really can't be angry about what Mary did, not after last night." "Last night was wonderful. I think we have grown closer to each other, and what was the cause? Phil and Mary's rudeness." "Yes. However, if they ever do that again on bridge night, I shall be greatly annoyed. James, I'm a bit tired; do you mind if we go now?" "Of course, darling." We walked to the door, and then she ran ahead of me to the car and took the driver's seat. I caught up and she opened the passenger door. "Get in," she said. "Would you please tell me what you're doing?" "Ten minutes. Just relax, James." "I don't think I can." She drove out of town along a route I didn't recognize, and ten minutes later she stopped her car near a side road. "Do you recognize where we are?" The moon was three-quarter full, and I looked at the roads in the moonlight. "No. Wait. That's the road to Grayson's Quarry. Oh, damn." "That's right. Do you remember the last time you drove me there, to lovers' lane?" "I try not to remember that day. June 1942. That's when I asked you--" "You were joining the army the next week, and you wanted 'Something to Remember Me By.'" "I still remember your slap. Why are you bringing this up?" "After you took me home, I went up to my room and cried. I thought, 'How could you say that to me?' Mom tried to pry into what happened, but I wouldn't say anything." "You still married me, though." "I loved you, you dim-wit. But I was the 'good girl,' and good girls say no." "And the boys always ask anyway." "And the boys always ask. Dad worried that you had injured me; he probably thought that you had molested me. He dragged his shotgun out of the closet and was going to go after you, but I managed to stop him. I told Dad that you hadn't touched me, that we had only argued." "That wasn't quite true. We had kissed." "I was trying to keep you alive and Dad out of jail. He didn't need to know that." "They've been cordial to me, and they let you marry me." "Nobody let me do anything. And people do fight, even if they love each other. I wanted to marry you, and that was that. And they love Matt." "But, why did you still write me? I never knew why you didn't break the engagement. Many of us got 'Dear John' letters; I was expecting one." "That's something you never realized about me. I had thought about saying yes. Women get horny too. Especially engaged 19-year-olds." "Oh. You did say no, however." "That's how we were raised, dear. You left the next week, and soon all the men my age were gone to the war. I tried to talk to some of the other girls about it, but it wasn't easy." "Soldiers tell a lot of stories about their experiences with women. Most of them are tall tales, however. But no one ever told stories about his girl. No one ever said that his girl had said 'Yes.' And suggesting that about somebody else's girl would start a fight." "Well, do you remember Marge Dunbar?" "Ted's wife? The pharmacist's daughter? Quiet as a mouse?" "That's right. Well, she said 'Yes' to Ted before Ted joined the Army." "No. Really?" "I'm not kidding you. She told me while we sat at the Woolworth's counter waiting for a rainstorm to let up. Of course, she could lift some 'safes' from her dad's desk." "Oh. Well, I'm glad Ted made it back okay." "Zoe Carter said 'No' to Miles, and Miles died on Iwo Jima. I think Zoe still regrets that she had said 'No.'" "And you? Did you regret your decision?" "Sometimes I did. True, it was the only one I could make. But you were gone for three and a half years! There were many nights when I couldn't sleep because I pined for you so. I'd write you long letters and then tear them up since they wouldn't fit on Victory Mail. I kept every letter you sent me in a scrap book. And I had vague fantasies of what we'd do upon your return and our marriage. I didn't know what sex was all about then." "Well, do you know now? Is reality better than your fantasies?" "Frankly, dear, they haven't been for a while. We've coasted for the last few years. We haven't put enough effort into it." "Last night was great. It was the best ever. But, you're right. I've concentrated on the farm too much, and you concentrated on Matt. So, why are we here?" "I want to give us a second chance. I want a chance to say 'Yes.'" "Hearing that, I feel nineteen again." Donna started the car again and turned onto the Quarry Road. The quarry had gone bust back in the 1880s during a business downturn, and had been left abandoned. It was a place of mystery for all the children of the area, and somehow it also became the rendezvous for teenagers who wanted to get away from home. Since the area wasn't good farmland, there were a few clusters of trees nearby that had not been cleared. Donna drove to one of them and parked. We kissed and hugged, and I let my hand drift down her body to her breast. She slapped my hand away. "James, I'm not that type of girl." She had said that to me on that last trip here. "But Donna, we've been dating for three years, and when the war's over we're going to get married. Please?" That had been my reply. "James, we're not married yet. We shouldn't do this. It would be a sin." She had said exactly that too. "Donna, I'm joining the Army next week. I don't know when I'll ever see you again. I might even die in battle. Please, Donna. We love each other. How can it be sinful? You know that song--can I have something to remember you by?" I still kept to our script. This was when she had slapped me and had demanded I take her home. She raised her right hand and made a motion as if to slap me, but she stopped in mid-swing and slowly moved to caress my cheek. "Yes, James. Let me give you the most precious gift I can give you." I leaned over and kissed her softly. She returned it more passionately, and then we just kept kissing again and again--soft kisses, sloppy kisses, hard kisses, French kisses, and long kisses that left us breathless. Eventually, we ran out of air and fell away from each other. We looked at each other; Donna's hair had wilted, her makeup had ran, and her dress was all wrinkled, while I needed a shave, my tie was askew, my jacket crumpled, and I needed a new shirt. We couldn't be happier. We both started laughing, dispelling the tension of our memories of twelve years ago. "Let's get in back," Donna said. We both got out of the car. I went into the back seat right away, while Donna opened the trunk and pulled some things out. "Donna, what's that?" "It's a special occasion. I thought we might have some wine. I also thought we might need a blanket." "You're always so well prepared. Thank you." I took the bottle and corkscrew from her, opened the bottle, and poured it into the two glasses she held. We raised our glasses, and I toasted her: "To gift-givers!" "And worthy recipients!" We sat close to each other, held hands, and finished our glasses. Then, I turned to her and kissed her. She leaned into the kiss, and as she did, I reached behind her and started to lower the zipper of her dress. She hummed her approval. When I lowered the zipper to its bottom, she leaned away from me and said, "Take off that jacket." I shrugged out of it and threw it to the front seat, and she reached for my collar. She made short work of my tie and quickly undid my buttons. She did the same with my cuffs. I slipped my shirt off and tossed it onto my jacket. She lifted her arms out of her sleeves, and the front of her dress fell down, revealing her brassiere. "Donna, you're lovely." "James, you're not bad yourself. There's something I have to ask you, though." Suddenly, I saw a bright light from outside. "Donna, look." She opened her window a bit and looked out. "James, it's a police car. What will we do?" A man got out of the car and walked over to us. "All right, now. It's time for you teenagers to go home. I'm going to have a talk with your parents." "Deputy? George Stone, is that you? You really gave us a shock," said Donna. "Mrs. Bailey?" He shined his flashlight at me. "James Bailey? What are you doing here?" George was in high school with the two of us. He was a dull drone then, and he's a dull drone now. He was one of those damnable rear-area MPs during the war and came back to become a cop. "We're acting like teenagers. It's fun. You ought to try it sometime. You're welcome to talk to our parents, though," I said. "James. Donna. You're acting crazy. You can't stay here. And get some clothes on!" "We're not hurting anyone, George. Why don't you just leave us be. Are you going to report us?" said Donna. "Just go home. What's wrong with you?" "Absolutely nothing. Mind your own business," I said. George shined his flashlight at us again, and then Donna murmured, "I'll fix him." She started to undo her bra. George gawked, and then he turned around and ran, crying "Jesus!" Donna lowered the window all the way, dropped the bra onto the seat, leaned out and waved at him. "Bye George! Don't forget to call my mommy!" We heard his tires squeal, and then Donna sat back down. "Donna. I'm impressed. I would never have envisioned you doing anything so wild, either today or yesterday." I was beginning to get uncomfortable; her teats were right in front of me, and I started to harden. I wanted to reach for her, to hold her, to feel her, to kiss her, to rip off the remainder of her dress and to take her right away. I didn't, though. "I think I like being wild. It's more interesting. Do you think he'll ever tell anyone?" "No. I know the type. He's a coward, and he makes up for it by wearing a gun. He'll never mention us to anyone." "Well, there's one wild thing I'd like to do now. What do you think Phil's stake in their wager was?" "Well, if their stakes were comparable, then he would have--Oh!" "Well, will you? Now? I'd like to know what that feels like." "I don't know anyone who's done that. Except for Phil, I guess." "I doubt the Andersens are the only people to do it." "Well, you were willing last night; it would be ungracious of me if I were to refuse." "Besides, you might like for me to suck you again." I nodded. She reached for me and pulled me to her. I kissed her and started to stroke her body; I moved quickly to her teats. "Lick them," she said. I kissed them and then started to lick and suck on her nipples. She purred. I reached around her and cradled her bottom; I couldn't feel much through her dress and girdle. She whispered, "Undress me." I was reluctant to let go of her breasts, but I pulled back and lifted her dress over her head; it joined the rest of her clothes in the front. She unsnapped her girdle, and then turned so she lay lengthwise on the seat. I pulled her shoes off and tickled her toes, and then I moved up to her thighs to pull down her nylons. Her scent was heavy in the air; I was a little dizzy. Was this how it would have been twelve years ago? Her nylons came off, and her girdle followed. Only her panties were left, and I stared. My eyes followed Donna's curves, followed the stretchmarks that bearing Matt had given her, and reached her center. Wisps of pubic hair curled above the top of the fabric, while moisture had stained the front. I needed to see what was within. I had a problem, though. She lay across most of the seat, and I didn't really have room to move. "Donna, I need more room. Should we go home now?" "Now, James. I need it badly." "We could go outside." That was brazen of me. "Bring the blankets." I passed them to her and let her set them up; meanwhile, I pulled off the rest of my clothes. I heard her call for me to hurry, and I did. Of course, I checked first; all four doors were unlocked. And there she was, propped up on her elbows, looking at me in the moonlight, wearing only a thin wisp of pink material. I kneeled by her side and kissed her. "Hurry!" I moved atop her in our usual position for lovemaking. She sank to the ground, freed her arms, and began to push at my shoulders. I moved back a bit and nuzzled her breasts, and she let me stay just a moment before she pushed again. I left a trail of kisses down her belly, tongued her navel, and then I reached my destination. I started by kissing her through the fabric. I don't think she could feel my kiss, but she breathed out a "Yes!" just from the sight. I, on the other hand, could feel her and smell her scent. My cock got as hard as ever it did. I kissed her a few times through the panties, but she wanted more. I wanted more. I reached for the top of the panties and tried to pull them down, but I had some trouble getting them past her buttocks. I didn't want to move away, and finally I just brought my hands to her crotch, grabbed onto the two leg-holes, and tore the fabric apart. A cool breeze washed over us, and she moaned. I bent my head to her. I could have stayed there forever, just hovering over her and looking at her, but Donna grew impatient. She moved her hands to the back of my head and pushed me closer to her. It was time; I leaned into her and took a tentative lick. I heard a moan in response, so I did it again. She shuddered in response. Her lips began to part like a tulip in bloom. I licked again, this time pushing my tongue between her folds; I heard a "Yes!" in response. My followthrough brought me upward to a little button of flesh, and I swept it with my tongue; I heard a drawn-out "Ohhhh," the pitch rising and then falling. I guessed this was the place to aim. Not right away, however. Donna had taken the trouble to arrange this; I should make the occasion last. I started circling her cunt, covering the path with kisses. I tongued the outer lips, and she shook. I licked her inner lips, and she moaned. I dipped by tongue into her cunt and moved from side to side, and she closed up her legs, fixing my head in that position. Well, it was as good a place as any to lick. It tasted great; I had worried about that. I was nearly mad with lust, but I resisted the temptation to get up and plunge into her; I just followed her lead. I don't know how long we stayed like that; I was happy to make her wail with pleasure. She deserved it, after all. After a while, however, I heard her cries slow down and soften. I knew that she was getting stuck short of the peak, and I needed to work fast; I forced my head upward and licked that button I had found earlier. Donna's voice grew louder, and I tried swirling my tongue on her. Donna's voice rang out: "Oh yes! Lick me there! Finger me, finger my cunt! Oh, fuck!" I brought my right hand upward and pushed a finger into her; I heard her call, "Yes, do it hard!" I licked her harder and worked my finger in and out of her, and then I felt her body vibrate. Her voice turned into a wordless cry, she started to pulse around my finger, and then I felt a flood of moisture within her. She fell silent and limp in my arms. I disentangled myself from her and moved to her side. She lay there quietly, peacefully, but she didn't react when I touched her cheek. She had fainted. "Donna, Donna, wake up," I said softly. She blinked twice, nodded her head, and opened her eyes. I looked down at her with concern, and she called my name weakly. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine. I'm just so tired. That took a lot out of me." "I hope this doesn't happen every time I lick you." "I wouldn't mind if it did. Oh, I'm not being fair to you." "That's all right. There's always tomorrow." "Could you take me home now? I'm just so weak." I got her to sit up, and then I picked her up and carried her to the back seat. She lay down, and I retrieved the blanket and tucked it around her. She mumbled something I couldn't make out, and then she fell asleep. I put on my underclothes and my pants, checked that we had not left anything outside, and then I drove us home. I drove slowly because I didn't want to awaken her. I was happy to have pleased her so, but I was also aching for release. It was frustrating, but I would survive. While I was driving, I thought about what we had said and done. I've never heard her talk that way before. She had never been so forceful about sex, never so active. I knew that we would have some interesting times in the future. I think we were both overly inhibited before this weekend. I worried about repulsing her by requesting things she wasn't familiar with, and she had been trained in being a "good girl," following her husband's lead. Neither of us had brought much imagination to our lovemaking. Perhaps if she had given in twelve years ago, we would not have waited so long to break loose the way we had this weekend, but I doubt it, and it doesn't matter anyway. No one can change the past. But we could make up for lost time. We arrived home, and I parked outside so the car could air out. "Wake up, sleepyhead." "James? Oh, we're home. Thanks." "Do you need help?" "I'm okay." She got out from under the blanket and left the car, only to stand outside my door. I looked at her; she was still naked and still lovely. She opened the door, and I hugged her to me. "Let's go inside. I'm cold." We went inside, and she turned to me. "You dear sweet man. Please sit down." I did, and she knelt before me. "Thank you, James. Thank you for everything." She reached for my fly, and for the second night in a row she took me in her mouth. Gifts by fcp or _________________________________________________________ DO YOU YAHOO!? Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----