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!