Message-ID: <32830asstr$1002276603@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: Desdmona22@aol.com X-Original-Message-ID: <123.55ac914.28ee27d1@aol.com> X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Thu, 4 Oct 2001 17:00:01 EDT Subject: {ASSM} From Dusk Til Dawn I by Desdmona {MF preg) Date: Fri, 5 Oct 2001 06:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, RuiJorge The following is a story of fiction that contains sexually explicit scenes betwen consenting adults. If you're not suppose to read it, then don't! I have revised my story for the P2C contest. I happen to love this couple and their story and I felt it was worth revising just a little. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. **************************************************************** From Dusk Til Dawn (Revised) By Desdmona "He's coming home today," Matt said in hushed tones. He looked strong. His Henley shirt hugged his chest and was tucked neatly into his jeans. He lifted his arms in an open invitation, and I ran into them. "I know. I still can't believe it." I thought I had exhausted all my tears, but my eyes grew misty once again. "Maggie, honey, he's fine. He's perfect even, all the docs said so." "I guess that's why I'm crying. Everything we've been through, I mean he's been through. He's finally coming home. We're so lucky." He squeezed me tighter, and I breathed in Matt's distinctive smell. The scent was as familiar as baking cookies or fresh cut flowers and just as comforting. The last three months had been a roller coaster ride, a ride I was stuck on, and one I thought would never end. Through it all, Matt had been by my side, like a rock: solid and steadfast, bolstering me when I felt like crumbling and allowing me to do the same for him. I pulled from his embrace but held tight to his hand. "Well, how does it look?" Matt looked around the room, ignoring the fact that he'd seen it dozens of times. He pulled me to the crib and punched the bumper pads as if checking the tires on a new car. He patted the edges of a homemade quilt with the ABC's cross-stitched on the front. He let go of my hand and wound up the mechanism on a baby-soft mobile. "It looks ready for a baby!" We watched as pastel yellow, puffy suns revolved to an achingly familiar tune. Matt grabbed my hand and pulled me close. The room was silent except for the tinkling sound of the mobile. He proceeded to guide me in a slow dance, my bare toes sinking into the plush carpet. The song dwindled down to its end, but we continued to dance. We made our own music with beating hearts and rhythmic breathing. The twinges of long-missed arousal began to stir between my legs. The doctor had given the OK for sex six weeks ago, and I had obliged Matt, but this was the first time I had really felt an awakening. Matt's warm body, pressing into mine, fertilized my thoughts and my hormones. I whispered close to Matt's ear. "Take off your clothes." My voice was breathy, like it would evaporate without being heard. "Oh god, Mag! Are you sure?" I couldn't say anything but "Yes." My throat was thick with emotion. My body tingled and I seemed to swell with each breath. I was overflowing from everywhere--my mind spilled with thoughts, my body danced with excitement and my heart thumped with love. I couldn't contain it all. I watched as Matt removed his clothes. I'd seen his body a thousand times before, every dip of it recognizable. I prickled with the familiarity. I knew when I touched his chest, his skin would flinch and the muscle would bunch. I knew when I inched my way to his groin, I'd feel velvety flesh, surrounded by downy hair. I knew when I circled around his naval, his penis would bob up in appreciation. When he was naked, he helped me with my clothes. He slipped my shirt over my head. He unzipped my pants, knelt in front of me, and eased them over my hips. My panties followed. He put his hot hands on my puffy belly and ran his fingertips along the Cesarean scar. And then wrapped his arms around and hugged me tightly against his face. "Lie down, Matt." He didn't say a word; he just did what I asked. It was easy and familiar as I lowered myself on top of him. It was sleek and moist as we guided his cock into my slit. It was hot and penetrating as I impaled myself on him. It was purposeful and heady when I rode him in slow motion, accentuating every up and down. It was powerful and loving when his orgasm spouted from him, gilded my pussy, and wrenched mine from me. "God, I love you Maggie!" My body shivered against Matt's in tiny aftershocks. He hugged me closer. "I love you, too." In fact, I couldn't imagine ever being so close to another human being, save one. "Matt? I whispered. "Hmm?" His voice was mellow and poured from him like thick maple syrup. "Let's go get our son." "I was just thinking the same thing." That night, three-month old Joey McKnight slept in his own house for the first time. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Matthew Joseph McKnight lay flat on his back, his tiny little arms flaccid at his sides. An IV tube extended out of his severed umbilical cord, secured with clear tape and suture thread. His right foot, no bigger than the first joint of one of my fingers, was wrapped in beige tape. A glow of red beneath the tape illuminated his entire foot, causing it to appear transparent. The nurse said this was a monitor that measured the oxygen in his blood. She had pointed to a machine somewhere on the counter, but I hadn't seen where she was pointing. I was too busy looking at my son. He had three electrodes stuck to him that were only centimeters in diameter each, but together they almost covered his entire chest. They were connected to another machine that monitored his heart rate and breathing. And some how the IV in his belly monitored his blood pressure as it gave him a steady diet of glucose. He had a tube coming out of his mouth that connected him to a breathing machine. The nurse said the machine was doing all the breathing for him because his own lungs were still too immature. He had another tube inserted into his left nostril and a small stocking cap covering his head. I looked at him through the plastic box they called an isolette. According to the doctor, it would be his home for several weeks. I couldn't make out his features, really. I kind of thought his nose looked like my husband, Matt's. But his long, delicate fingers were surely from my side of the family. Piano playing fingers, my mom would say. I stared at every inch that wasn't covered in some sort of wrap or tube, looking for identifiable characteristics. Occasionally his little body would jerk and all I wanted to do was hold him. But the rules didn't permit it. He was too fragile, too sick, and too little. But soon, they promised. Even now wasn't soon enough. No one understood how much Matthew meant. No one understood how hard the decision was to have him. I wish Matt were here, he understood. But he had collapsed from exhaustion, and I'd sent him home to get some sleep. I looked around the room. There were thirty more isolettes just like Matthew's. A few other moms stared into their own plastic boxes. Yes, they understood how I felt. But that did nothing to ease my pain. I had decided to breastfeed, but he was too little. I was instructed to use a pump and save the breast milk in the freezer. They would feed it to Matthew through the tube that was going into his nose and down into his stomach. My son, my poor little baby, was hooked up to so many machines and so very tiny. I tried not to cry. Crying blurred my vision and all I wanted to do was look at him. I wanted him to know how much his daddy and I loved him. He was our precious gift. Trying to keep my voice very soft so as not to over-stimulate him (as the nurse had warned), I softly sang: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Maggie? Maggie-honey, can you hear me?" I was in a winter wonderland. Everything was white, not a dull white like old snow, but a fresh and clean, crystal white. Evergreens with heavily laden branches, like Christmas trees. There was a wall with a twinkle of glitter covering it. And a voice, a voice I recognized. What did it say? "Maggie?" The voice said my name. Why? What did it want? I didn't want to open my eyes. They were heavy. They were heavy like the branches of evergreens. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep in my winter wonderland. Ouch! My stomach hurt. Why did my stomach hurt? "Maggie-sunshine. It's Matt." Oh! It's Matt. Shhh, honey, can't you see I'm in a wonderland? See how everything glitters? But my stomach hurts. Why does it hurt? It shouldn't hurt; the baby is there ... Instinctively I grabbed my stomach. Ouch! The baby, Oh! Wait! Of course, the baby, that's right. The placenta had torn away from my uterus, an emergency C-section. I'd already had the baby. My eyes popped open. "The baby?" My voice was raspy and my throat was dry. "He's alive Maggie. He's a boy!" Matt answered. I tried to focus on Matt. He held my hand. He wore blue paper clothes and a paper hat over his head. I might have laughed except for his face. His eyes were swollen, and his normally perfect skin was blotchy. He sniffed as he brought his hand up to my cheek. "It's a boy?" "Oh Mag, you should see him. He's so little but he's got a ton of blonde hair. He's even got down-like hair on his shoulders and arms. It's so blonde it's almost white. He's beautiful, Maggie." Matt was teary-eyed as he spoke. "Is he OK?" "The doctor, he's a neonatoligist. He said he's critical, but there's a good chance he'll make it. He said lots of babies born this early make it these days." "He's critical?" "But the doctor said he would be OK." I burst into tears. Matt tried to "shhhhsh" me, but he was crying too. I had gone from being unsure about wanting a baby to being heartbroken at the thought of losing one. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "C'mon, Maggie. You're not in labor. It's too soon. You can't be. It must be gas or something." Matt quipped. "Oh, and when did you become the expert on what labor felt like?" I asked, holding my side as if that would make the pain subside. "Maggie, you're only six and a half months." "Matt, I'm telling you it's not gas. It feels like severe menstrual cramps, and it's happening every ten minutes or so." "Every ten minutes or so? For how long?" Now Matt looked worried. Apparently, when you use a sentence with numbers in it, for a CPA, it all starts to make sense. Every ten minutes must have been the eye-opener. "About two hours, I think." "Two hours?" Matt exploded. "Why the hell did you wait so long to tell me?" "Because I thought the same thing you did, it's too early, it can't be labor, it must be gas." I started to feel teary-eyed now. I knew it was hormones, but why did men do that? Why did they think when they suggested something rational that you hadn't thought it up as well? Did he honestly think I was stupid? He knew how much this whole pregnancy meant to me, to us. I told him as much. "Matt, I didn't want to jump the gun, but now I'm scared. I know how important this is." "I'm calling the doctor." "I was going to, but the last time I was in the office, he told me from here on out if anything was wrong to go straight to the hospital." "Did he suspect something was wrong?" "He said it was what he told all his pregnant patients after six months." "Well then, let's go. _NOW!_" Matt's tone was brisk and it made my eyes burn again. He must have noticed, because his features softened and so did his tone. "Ah, Maggie-honey, you know I'm just worried." He kissed my forehead and ran his fingers through my hair. The intimate gesture calmed my nerves a little and made me want to forgive him. I hadn't packed anything for the hospital yet. Our childbirth classes were supposed to start next week so I hadn't even thought about it. I grabbed an overnight bag and threw in a clean pair of panties, a hairbrush, and bathing necessities. And we were off. In the car, Matt was silent but kept looking over at me. "Keep your eyes on the road, mister, or we'll never get there," I teased in an effort to relax us both. "I'm watching, I'm watching!" Matt's hands were ashen from the grip he had on the steering wheel. And then it dawned on me. "OH NO!" I cried. "Oh god, what, Maggie, what?" "I didn't shave my legs or anything." "Shave? That's what you're thinking about?" I didn't want to think about anything else. I wanted this to be the normal drive to the hospital, the one that resulted in a healthy, bouncing baby. Not the one where a baby is born prematurely. I couldn't think about the stories I had heard about premature babies or about women who died in childbirth. Shaving was an easier topic to think about. "Well heck Matt, you know how the hair on my legs get. It's like cactus needles with dry skin. It's grotesque." "I'm sure they've seen worse Maggie. Besides I like your hair all cactus-y and your legs all dry. It makes me think of your cunt as an oasis." Matt was trying to make me laugh now. He'd had time to think about what was going on. He always did that. He would react and then think. Sometimes it got to me, even when I wasn't hormonal. But most of the time it just gave me something to tease him about. The contraction caught me while I was trying to answer. I ignored his comment and put my head back, trying to concentrate on the pain to get through it. We rode the rest of the way to the hospital like that: me with my head back, and Matt stealing glances at me every few seconds. Luckily, the hospital was only twelve minutes away. Matt pulled up at the emergency door and an orderly helped me into a wheelchair. I told him I didn't need it, but he insisted. They wheeled me quickly up to a room, had me strip and put on a hospital gown, and attached a fetal heart tone monitor around my waist. Within minutes, the nurse had her invading fingers up inside me to check how far along I was. I thought I should at least know her name before we became so intimate. She pulled out her bloody fingers, whipped off her rubber gloves and washed her hands before saying anything. Her name was Polly. "Maggie, I'm calling Dr. Rothman to tell him what's going on. I'd say you're already six centimeters dilated. Which means you're going to have this baby tonight, and there's no way we can stop it." "How? I haven't been laboring that long. It wasn't that long, it didn't even hurt that much, really." I could hear the pleading in my voice. "Sometimes these things happen. It's nobody's fault. Its just nature making its own way." Polly left the room. Matt and I looked at each other. The fear rose up between us like burning incense. "Matt, I really didn't wait too long, I followed Dr. Rothman's instructions." I was anxious to hear him agree with Polly that it wasn't my fault. "Maggie," he started and then stopped. He sat on the edge of the bed, cupped my chin in his hands and then finished, "Baby, you did everything right. You did everything perfect." <1st attachment begin> <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+