textfiles/sex/EROTICA/M/mari.txt

 Mari.


  My wife and I moved to Scandinavia a few years ago.  She was born in
that part of the world, so the transition was easier than one would
expect of a transcontinental trek as we had friends and family to help
with the logistics.  I must admit that it took me longer adjusting to
the new culture than I had expected, but once the language was
mastered and I had a few friends with whom to share a weekend now and
again, I began to feel more at home.  In all candor, the differences
between Northern Europe and the States are not that great, but it is
amazing what one finds has been worked into the routine of life; pizza
for example.  I'm used to a nice deep dish with plenty of tomato
sauce, spices and sausage.  I'm not used to cheese on bread with fish.
I'm not used to all of the kids in the neighborhood running down to
the beach, stripping off their clothes and jumping in while I am in
the midst of a picnic on the rocks close by.  My wife just smiled as I
sat there open mouthed.  But such is life; change makes a person
complete.
  Financially, we were very secure.  I was lucky enough to have
successfully marketed a software program that was picked up by a major
manufacturer.  Royalties were to continue (and, in fact have) for
years to come, and aside from a few fixes from time to time, which
could be done via modem, I had no other responsibilities.  That was
part of the reason for moving.  My wife and I had begun to think about
kids and America was not the place in which either one of us wanted
them to be raised.  Because of our financial freedom, we could choose
essentially any place that had a phone line.  We found a house in the
woods, close to a large town for shopping and socializing, but far
enough away for privacy.  I set up an office in a spare bedroom and
was quickly buried beneath a new project.  My wife, like me, is self
motivating and as such could not rest without in some way contributing
to the family till, and even though there was no need, she still wanted
to work.  So, she put up signs in the local centrum advertising her
impressive command of "American" English.  It wasn't long before
she had several students. English is a required course and the average
child will have nine years of it before they are through with their
education.  Although most speak English well, parents prefer someone
who has lived in England or America to tutor their children so that
the common language is learned.  Schools offer English movies and
videos, not to mention what is available on state television, but
nothing replaces living in the country in which language is spoken for
comprehending its nuances.
  One summer afternoon, while in the midst of a lesson, my wife got a
call from a single mother, whose daughter had done very poorly the
previous term.
  "Honey?"  She still mixed English in with her native tongue.  "Do
you mind if I take on another student?"  This time without an English
word.
  "That would be up to you,"  I replied.
  "They can't afford it, really, but I'd like to.  It would be on Fridays."
  She walked into my study with the sultry stride that she reserved
for bribery.  It was nice to see, but unnecessary because her
business was her business as far as I was concerned.
  "She would have to work in trade for the lessons... something like house
work."
  "That's fine with me"
  "Really?"
  "Keep her out of my study."
  "Are you sure you don't mind?  She'd be here every Friday?"
  "As long as I have Friday nights with you, I can sacrifice a few
hours in the afternoon."
  "You're sweet," she said, disappearing into the hallway.
  It wasn't until the following week that I was reminded of our
conversation when that Friday night we were making room for the girl
on our couch.  Her mother, I was informed, had a drinking problem
which became uncontrollable after the father abandoned them.  He had
not been seen since.  It was a pay weekend and she had in all
probability forgotten her daughter and was off somewhere in a drunken
blur.  No wonder the poor kid couldn't pass her courses, she was
entertaining her mother every night trying to hide all of the bottles
in the house, then after her mother slept or passed out attending to
her studies.  As well, she was a late bloomer so her social life
couldn't have been a source of self image and emotional support.  At
thirteen, she looked more like ten or eleven.  She was one of the five
percent or so of all children that were on the tail end of the
maturity bell curve.  She was pretty enough, just a bit young in
appearance.  She had long blond hair that fell in tangles almost to
her waist, with light blue eyes and a little turned up nose.  But her
breasts didn't even show through her sweater.  She had almost no hips
and from behind looked like a boy, though she had a cute little bounce
to her walk and, I must give her credit here, a smile, no matter what
was happening.  She was fun to be around; always joking and laughing.
I quite enjoyed her compared to some of the other students that graced
our door.  Much more so than Anna, a girl with everything, including
an ego that arrived ten minutes before she did.  In fact it seemed
that Anna did everything in her power to torment poor Mari at school.
We'd hear both sides of the story, neither girl aware that the other
came to our home.  Oh, yes, that was her name, Mari.  It was as simple
and to the point as she was; fresh and innocent, hopeful and quiet.
  After several months, she and my wife had become quite close.  Our
Friday "date night" was modified to include another attendee, Mari, as
it was not unusual for her to arrive with a change of clothes and a
sleeping bag.  It became obvious that our family was fast becoming her
source of refuge and strength.  It was an odd-lot that arrived at the
finest restaurants and dance halls in town.  I was not yet forty, my
wife was just over half my age and Mari looked very young for her age.
To all those around I must have been out with my two daughters.  It
was fun to watch the discreet glances change from simple
acknowledgment to extreme curiosity as the evening progressed.  After
a few beers my wife always took to flirting mercilessly with me.  That
would bring polite, inquisitive stares.  But nothing like the overt
gawking brought by Mari doing the same.  Of course, I didn't exactly
know how to take these youthful advances, but I smiled a secret smile
and that seemed to satisfy her.
  "She needs the self confidence," my wife would say.  "I remember
that age.  I didn't develop very quickly either.  Most of the girls in
my sport's class had breasts long before me.  If I could have flirted
with an older man, and had him show an interest in me, I would have
been on top of the world."
  My wife delighted in Mari and the closeness of our mutual
relationships.  If she had not been of European upbringing, I would
have been shocked by her lack of concern at the interest Mari had
begun to show in me, but then, anything that seemed good for Mari's
self confidence or made her happy was worth a little sacrifice my wife
seemed to think. In fact, she even invited Mari to celebrate Midsummer
with us which was a bit awkward as it is one of the biggest holidays in
the Scandinavian year and one in which the mood, drinking and
merrymaking is most conducive to overindulgence and loss of
inhibitions with regard to sensuous adventures.  The year before, I
participated in my first threesome with my wife and an old girlfriend
of her's from school, someone she and not seen for years, but to whom
she was obviously still very close; an experience I would have loved
to repeat, but with Mari along regrettably would not.  Even so, the
girls were in rare form and unusually provocative.  I don't know if it
was the full moon or empty pitchers that influenced them most, but in
light of the previous year's festivities their behavior was a welcome
addition to the evening all the same.
  We went to our favorite pub in the centrum near our house.  It was
owned by a close friend and as such was a home away from home when it
came to celebrations and not having to clean up the next morning.  He
nodded as we came in and we took our usual booth near a big window
that ran the length of the back wall, commanding a comfortable view of
the street outside.  As the conversation became more and more sensual, I
became less a part of it.  Not due to the subject matter per se, but
rather the perspective from which it was explored.  If not for the
constant smiles and bedroom eyes from across the table I would have
been a bit insulted.  Instead, I became an interested observer of an
impromptu tutoring session.
  "No. No," my wife said between sips on her beer.  "Just because a
guy has a reputation in school, doesn't mean he's a great lover.  Just
because he's had half the class doesn't mean he's any good in bed,
either. It's easy to impress a bunch of virgins, all you have to do is
talk a good game.  They won't know the difference.  In my opinion, the
best lover is someone with maturity and sensitivity.  Someone that
will be your friend and your lover."
  "I don't know anyone like that.  I'll never get a boyfriend," Mari
bemoaned.  "They think that I am ugly."
  "You're looking in the wrong places.  When I was your age I thought
the same thing and I did more than just day dream about guys like you.
I found one at a party and seduced him.  He was so drunk he didn't
know who I was or what I looked like, which solved my body image
problem.  I picked him because he had a reputation for being the best,
but when it was over, all I had done was lose my virginity.  I sure
didn't feel any different.  I might as well have still been a virgin,
but I didn't even have that any more.  I thought maybe I didn't do it
right so I tried it again and again with different guys, but the same
results.  It wasn't until I met my husband that I found out it wasn't
me with the problem..."
  "How did you know he was the right one?"
  "He could make the earth move and was still there when it stopped shaking."
  "I hate romance.  I hate sex.  I hate my body!  I especially hate guys!"
  I feigned my best look of rejection.
  "Oh, I didn't mean you," Mari blurted out red faced.  "If you
weren't with her...  I didn't mean that either."  Now her cheeks
almost glowed.
  "Well," I sucked down the last of my Danish beer.  "Anyone for another
pitcher?"
  "I think I've had too much already,"  Mari apologized.
  "I guess I could always share him," my wife said slowly.  "I've done it
before..."
  I almost dropped my mug.  Mari's mouth hung open.  There was a full
ten seconds of silence at our table.
  "Don't look at me like I just suggested assasinating the Prime
Minister or something.  I'm serious.  Why should Mari have to go
through the same things I did, if I.. we have the ability to change
that?  You said it yourself, Mari.  If he weren't with me, you would
consider making him your first.  I find it flattering that my guy is
appealing to someone your age.  Imagine what he does for me.  I wish
he had been my first lover... And you can't say that you don't find
her attractive," she said directing her rebuttal toward me.  "I've
seen the way you watch her."
  We were both astounded by her candidness.
  "I care very much for both of you so it only seems natural.  As far
as I'm concerned the rest is up to you two... Thanks, I've had enough beer
tonight and in fact think it's time to visit the ladies room."
  She got up and left.
  After a long pause Mari asked, "Is she serious?"
  "Probably."
  "Has she really shared you with someone else?"
  "A very close friend of hers."
  "She wasn't jealous?"
  "No."
  "Hmm."
  She thought for a moment.
  "Do you think I'm pretty?"
  "Yes."
  "I think she's prettier."
  "Everyone has their own quality of beauty.  It's not just what a
person looks like; it's who they are as well.  Beauty is the whole
person."
  "What did she do?"
  "What do you mean?"
  "Your wife, when you were with the other girl."
  "She was with us."
  "All of you together?  Wasn't it embarassing?"
  "No."
  "How did you..."
  "Teamwork."
  "That's weird."
  "Not really.  It's like anything else.  It's like washing the car.
If you do it alone you can't get the hood and the chrome at the same
time. You do one and then the other...  If you have two people
working..."
  "Didn't you get in each other's way?"
  "It's like I said, 'teamwork.'"
  "I don't know... I'd feel funny with someone else watching."
  "Helping."
  "I'd feel funny with someone else helping."
  "Think of it this way.  If you could have your tutor with you when
you take an English test, would you do it?"
  "Yeah, of course.  I'd get all the answers right."
  "Why not with sex?"
  "That's different."
  "How?"
  "It's more personal."
  "It's more important.  You only get one chance.  There's only one
first time.  It's not like a test that you can do over."
  "That's true.  I admit that I have thought about just going out and
finding some drunk guy at a party.  I know girls in my class that have done
that, just to get it over with so no one makes fun of them for being
inexperienced.  But, I couldn't really..."
  "It's nice if it can be special.  You shouldn't rush things.
You'll know when it's time."
  "I know it's time.  I want to do it."
  "You shouldn't let other people pressure you to rush into things."
  "I'm not.  I can feel it inside.  My body wants me to.  Sometimes at
night I do it to my..."  She stopped as a frightened look crossed her
face.
  "I can't believe I just said that.  You think I'm strange now,
don't you?"
  "No.  It's normal to fantasize and to maturbate.  Everyone does it."
  "Really?
  "Yes."
  "Nobody at school talks about it."
  "Nobody at school admits it.  Go ahead with what you were saying."
  "Are you sure?"
  "Yes."
  "You won't think I'm strange."
  "No.  Sometimes my wife and I do it together.  It's fun to watch
each other.  I love watching her touch herself."
  "Well, when I do... that... I can feel like I want something... a
boy... inside.  I feel empty...  down there.  I know I need more
because even though it feels good, I always want it to feel just a
little bit better.  After awhile, instead of feeling finished it just
tickles, kind of.  So, I know if I had a boy it would be better.  I
just don't want to do it with the wrong person.  Mia did it with one
of the guys in her math class and he told everyone.  She cried for a
week.  I think that would be worse than not doing it.  I want to be
special..."
  "Most of sex is what you think about it.  If you go through
something bad with sex, then it takes a long time before you can
really enjoy it again. If you've had a good experience, you want it
more and it's even better the next time.  Sex has to do with the
way your whole life works.  The better you feel, the more healthy, the
happier, the more content and secure you are, the better sex you'll
have."
  "Yeah... What did she mean about me going through the same things
she did?"
  "She was a lot like you when she was your age; the same town, the
same problems.  She wants you to have more than she did; to be
happier.  She wants everything for you that she didn't have because of
her family situation and all.  She identifies with you.  That's
probably why she likes you so much."
  "Really?  She likes me."
  "Really.  She does.  Like a special friend...  But that's also why
she worries about you so much.  She doesn't want you to make the same
mistakes that she did at your age."
  "I know... But it's so hard to decide what's the right thing.  One
day I feel one thing, the next day another."
  "It's your age."
  "I wish I were older."
  "Enjoy each day as it comes."
  "I do wish I were like the other girls.  That would make things so
much easier.  I hate being ugly."
  "You're not ugly. You're just, what we call in the States,'a
late bloomer.' You're maturing more slowly than the other girls
that's all."
  "I still wish I were older, already."
  "The most beautiful girls I know are the ones that were late
bloomers.  Somehow they have a timeless beauty."
  "Then I wish I had a secret lover so that even though no one knew
about him, when they make fun of me at school, at least I would know
about him; and when they talk about all the things they've done, even
though no one would know I would have done them too."
  "I guess that wish could come true.  If she's serious about
sharing, you could have a secret lover, with the added benefit that
someone who truly cares about you would be right there with you if you
needed her.  It would be like having your own private love tutor.  I
doubt any of your friends will have had that kind of education."
  "What do you think I should do?"
  "I can't tell you that.  You have to decide for yourself.  You
and my wife need to have a long talk and work things out.  I want
what's best for you and will do whatever you want to do.  It seems to
me as though the question of whether you'll do it or not has
already been answered.  Now it's a question of when and with whom."
  "Not with whom.  I know that.  That would be you..."
  "Then, if that is the case I think she's offered you a wonderful
opportunity.  Now, it's really up to you."
  "If I do decide to do it, what would happen?"
  "Why don't we do this.  When she comes back, tell her that you
want to go have some coffee at our house and talk about things some
more.  Leave it at that."
  "I kinda have that feeling I told you about, now.  What if
tonight..."
  "Talk to her, first.  There's no rush.  If you want to do something
tonight, you can.  If you want to wait, you can.  Just don't rush
into anything you'll regret later.  Be comfortable with your
decision."
  That's what I said, but inside I was holding back a rising tide
of passion.  Here I was sitting across the table from a radiant
thirteen year old girl, albeit, she had just turned thirteen, talking
about sex.  She would say something and blush, her eyes wondering
about with embarrassment, then a tiny smile would reveal her inner
excitement.  I wondered if her heart were pounding like mine?
What's more, my wife had as good as agreed that I could have sex
with the girl if she were interested.  My wife had actually suggested it!
I scarcely dared to imagine the ecstasy that might be mine.  I was
resolved to not propose anything.  If Mari wanted to do more than
talk, the words would have to be hers.  I didn't want to encourage
her, but once she was decided, I would not dissuade her.  Needless to
say, telling her not to rush things was excruciatingly difficult. I
was nearly bursting to find the nearest room or most immediate
opportunity in which to make the best of an already wonderful
situation.
  "So what did you to decide?"  my wife said sliding in next to me.
  "I've had enough beer," Mari and I said in unison.
  "Well, I'm glad that's decided."
  "We c... could go have coffee," Mari stuttered.
  "Where?"
  "I can throw on a pot at home." I replied, helping Mari from her
temporary dumbness.  "We've still got some of that mocha, don't
we?"
  "That sounds wonderful," Mari said and stood.  Her haste was a bit
awkward for a moment, but my wife gave me a knowing wink and curled
the corners of her lips with a slight smile.
  "That's alright isn't it?" Mari asked, noticing the pause.
  "Yes, of course it is.  We always enjoy your company and you are
always welcome in our house," my wife added.
  I ushered the girls outside.  It was almost midnight and the sun was
low on the horizon casting long shadows across the street.  We walked
without speaking; all of us with the same thoughts; none of us knowing quite
how to begin.  The lanes leaving the village were too small to navigate
three abreast without hindering traffic, so I followed.  I watched the
two walking arm in arm, whispering back and forth, and giggling.
There is not much that inflates one's ego or excites the senses
more than the company of two attractive women, unless of course
it's their company bed.  I compared them as they walked.  Mari
bounced along in her trademark gait.  My wife sauntered.  Mari was the
same height, but a mere slip, with long, thin, graceful limbs.  My wife was
muscular and well shaped.  I was first attracted, in physical terms,
to her wonderfully sculptured backside and from my perspective at that
moment, it was just as stimulating.  Mari was not so endowed, but made
up for her deficiencies with a girlish charm.
  "I'll get the door," I shouted as we neared the house.  It was
well back from the road; hidden by a stand of pine.  I jogged up the
small hill into which our driveway was cut and unlatched the gate.
Our dalmatian greeted me with a wet lick and whip of the tail.  I
entered through the side door and into the kitchen, starting a pot of
coffee before kicking off my shoes and lighting candles in the den.  I
was just opening a window to let the fresh air fill the house when the
girls arrived.
  "A few more minutes and the coffee will be ready.  Why don't you
sit on the couch and I'll bring it in."
  "Thanks dear," my wife replied.
  They tittered and talked, hushed at times, until I came in with a
tray of cookies and steaming coffee.
  "Here you go."
  "You're so nice," Mari said softly.  "Mmm.  It's good."
  I sat down beside my wife.  
  "So how's school this semester," I asked, a bit behind the
conversation and hoping to start anew.
  "It's better now that she's helping me.  Actually, I like it a
lot this year.  She's only supposed to help with English, but she
we do math and some of the other stuff too."
  I hadn't realized that.  My wife must have noticed my surprise.
  "Well, once we finish our English lessons, I hate to just waste the
time so we work on other subjects as well."
  "How is the rest of school?"  I asked Mari.  "Are you in any clubs?"
  "No, not really.  I have to study."
  "I hear there's a dance next weekend."
  "Yeah, but I have a big test on Monday."
  "I've invited her to stay the weekend so she can concentrate on
the test," my wife commented.  "If she does well, she'll make a
five."
  "That's very impressive."
  "Thanks,"  Mari said sitting up straighter.  "It will be my first."
  "And well deserved, I might add," my wife said and gave her a hug.
"Are you still up for our little surprise?"
  "Yes," Mari said, biting her lip, her excitement bubbling over.
  "Well go ahead," my wife urged.
  "Okay... Okay.  We thought that you might want a fashion show.
Would you?"
  "A fashion show?" I asked.
  "Yeah.  We dress up for you in different... things."
  "That would be great," I said with great enthusiasm.
  My wife loves to give me fashion shows; strip teases really.  She
finds four or five sexy outfits and one by one models them to music,
allowing me quick peeks at her lacy bras and panties, or lack thereof.
When the song ends, she disappears, returning with a more seductive
ensamble, finally finishing with some sort of transluscent tailoring
masterpiece of sensuality.  At the end of the performance, she usually
dances nude, allowing me to touch her gyrating body.  I've often
thought that if I hadn't met her, that she would have been an
exotic dancer.  She definately loves to show off.  I guess I'm
lucky that way.  Other guys have to pay for a evening like that.  Tonight
though, it appeared that I would enjoy and added attraction.
  "I'm just practicing," Mari said with little nervous laugh.  "I
hope you like it."
  "I'm sure I will."
  Mari looked to my wife for reassurance.
  "He will.  Trust me.  He likes what you have on now.  I know.  I
promise that he will like what you put on."
  She hustled Mari into the bedroom, then came back.
  "Dancing in the privacy of one's home, for someone special, is good
for one's self image," my wife said in a hushed voice.  "It makes one
feel desirable... and horny.  Don't hide your feelings.  She needs to
see what I know you'll be thinking.  It will give her some self
confidence.  Okay?"
  "Yes dear,"  I said mocking her.
  "Pick some songs for us."
  While I ran through our compact disc collection looking for
something with a gut thumping beat, the girls began choosing their
attire.  I programmed several selections into the player, then took
the coffee tray back to the kitchen and moved the furniture so that it
was more condusive to performance.
  "Oh he'll love that," I heard my wife say.  "He likes panties
that he can see through."
  "I don't know.  He might just laugh at me."
  "He might smile, but he won't laugh."
  "Are you sure?  I don't want to look stupid."
  "He's going to love you!  I think you look great."
  I started the music; Janet Jackson.
  "Start it again," my wife shouted over the pounding rhythm.
  I complied.
  "Just do what I do," she said as the song started.
  I sat on the couch and watched.  My wife strutted out wearing a pink
ruffled dress with sewn flowers at her breasts.  Mari followed in a
virgin white lace gown.  They positioned themselves in front of me and
danced to each other as if on the floor of a strobe lit club.
Whatever my wife did, Mari did.  Every expression and every movement
was mimicked.  The girls twirled and spun, then turned away from me
flashing smiles over their shoulders and kicking up their dresses as
would can-can girls in a revue.  I watched in amazment as the usually
shy Mari bounced her backside to the music with my wife.  They reached
through their legs and traced the contours found there with moistened
fingertips.  I reached into my pants and pulled my hardening penis
into a more comfortable position in which to grow.  They stood and
faced each other once more, touching tongues as the music pulsed.
They kissed.  Then, as the song began to repeat and fade, the two
turned toward me, approaching within an arm's length and slowly
lifted their dresses.  My wife's tan, muscular legs were a
wonderful contrast to those of Mari, which were youthfully smooth and
milky white.  During the last few bars they stood motionless,
displaying their thinly veiled vulvas.  Just as the outlines of
Mari's figure became apparent to me, the music ended and so did the
show.  The girls pranced into the bedroom.  I clapped and whistled.  A
few seconds later they returned, bowed, threw their panties at me and
again disappeared into the bedroom.
  "That was wonderful!"  I heard Mari shout.
  "Hurry up and change,"  my wife answered back.
  "Wasn't it great?  Did you see how he looked at me?"
  "It will only get better.  Get dressed before the song starts."
  I studied the lingerie; both panties were slightly damp.  I sniffed
them, immediately recoginzing my wife's wonderful musk, but
delighting at the youthful scents presented me by Mari.  The contrast
was again marvelous.  I hardly noticed the music starting again.
  The girls returned in button down blouses and tight, black, high
waisted pants.  They ignored me and instead looked deep into each
other's eyes.  Ace of Bass filled the room.  My wife placed her
hands on Mari's hips; she mirrored the movement.  Their legs
entwined and they danced chest to chest.  After whispering in, perhaps
nibbling on, Mari's ear, my wife left her with a kiss and stood in
front of me.  Mari positioned herself behind, reached around, and one
by one, unbuttoned my wife's blouse.  There was no bra, so the cloth
hung down on either side, revealing only the inner half of her
breasts.  Mari reached into the blouse as my wife dropped it from her
shoulders, her hands covering what I so longed to see.  Their bodies
moved in synchronization.  Slowly Mari's fingers opened so that my
wife's breasts were visible, then her hands slid to my wife's
pants; unsnapped and unzipped, they began to drop past her hips.  Mari
helped her step out of them, so that she stood before me in a pair of
tiny, silk panties.
  I've always loved my wife's physique, and having it presented in
such a sensuous manner by Mari made it all the more tempting.  Mari's
hands moved up and down, tracing the lines of my wife's ribs, her
breasts and loins.  I waited without breathing, hoping that those slim
fingers would slip beneath the silk and delicately dance across the
sensitive skin concealed there, that they would push the material away
allowing me to share in that intimate pleasure.  Instead they glided
away and my wife disappeared behind Mari.  I watched with growing
interest and excitment as Mari stood before me, her eyes rising timidly
to meet mine.  She lifted her arms and my wife quickly unbuttoned her
shirt.  It fell open, but not before her breasts were hidden behind my
wife's hands.  Mari dropped it from her shoulders with a faint smile.
My wife's fingers separated, but exposed nothing.  Mari was too small;
even more exciting.  It seemed as if the music would surely end before
my wife's hands started down Mari's slender frame.  Finally, two
miniature mounds emerged, hardly as wide as a half dollar, and scarely
as tall.  Mari bit her lip and looked for my approval.  I gave it with
a wide grin.  So fixed was I upon her burgeoning maturity, and the
guided tour given by my wife, that when silence had fallen upon the
room, I was completely taken by suprise.
  "Time to go back and change."
  Mari's eyes were still fixed on mine.
  "He'll still be here," my wife said gently leading her away.
  "He likes the way I look, doesn't he?" Mari asked.  "Nobody ever
looks at me that way."
  "We both like the way you look, Mari," my wife emphasized as they
entered the bedroom.  "The important thing is for you to like the way
you look."
  "I'm starting to more..."
  The next song started, Kenny G.  I compared my two companions in my
mind.  It was the contrasts between them that amplified my lust.  I
tried to imagine their naked bodies side by side.  What a wonderful
thought!
  "Hey, lover.  Are you still with us?"  my wife's voice brought me
back into reality.
  "Yeah."  I took a deep breath.
  "What do you think?"
  My wife was radiant.
  "You're beautiful,"  I replied.
  She wore a full length lace nightgown.
  "And now for the icing on the cake..." she said.
  Mari entered wearing similar sleep wear.  She glowed.
  "No peeking," my wife grinned.  They stood in front of me, each
taking one of my hands beneath their gown, starting below the knee,
then moving slowly upwards.  I shivered.  My right hand fondled a
familiar place, while my left caressed the unknown and untouched.  I
looked from one to the other.  My wife smiled down at me.  Mari
quivered and panted.  My hands were guided up onto the sharp bones of
their hips, past their ribs an onto their chests.  I cupped my wife's
breast in one hand, and held Mari's pettite protrusion between my
fingertips.  Again the contrast was stark; my wife was like a fresh
flower, while Mari a newly opened bud.  They drew me from side to
side, one to the other breast, then to the valley between and finally
downward, between the ribs, over the stomach and downward still.  I
felt the fleecy locks of my wife's pubic ridge and the incline that
marked the start of Mari's smooth soft mound.  I closed my eyes to
absorb without distracton what my fingers discovered.  The girls
continued to hold my hands, but I now directed their movement.  I let
my fingers fall into the depths of their loins.  My wife was moist so
that I could easily slide up and down between her delicate folds.  She
moaned and pressed against me.  Mari's inner lips spread out over the
outer like the wings of a large butterfly.  I pushed between them.
She gasped.  My wife took my hand from under her gown and licked my
fingertips.  I offered her the hand which had fondled Mari; she took



Area: [UseNet] Alt.Sex.Stories                  

Date : Aug 18 '94, 12:57                                                       
From : Anon User                                              60:100/0.0
To   : All                                 
Subj : (2/2) Mari (mff,ped) great ending,slow start,well written             
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  Mari watched, at first shocked, then curious.
  "You taste good," my wife told her.
  "I... I do?"
  "Yes."
  Mari's mouth dropped in astonishment.
  "Mmm... you're very sensuous."
  "I am?"
  "Yes."
  My wife took Mari by the hand and led her toward the bedroom.  I followed.
  "Are you nervous?" she asked.
  "A little."
  "You can wait, you know.  There's no hurry."
  "No."
  "Are you sure?"
  "Um-hm."
  "So... you've enjoyed everything so far?"
  "Um-hm."
  "You're sure?"
  "Why do you keep asking that?"
  "I want to make sure that you don't do anything that could make
you feel awkward or bad later."
  "I know what I want.  Why are you treating me like a child?"
  "I'm just being over cautious.  I don't want anything that
happens tonight to have a negative affect upon our friendship."
  "I don't either.  So stop being a mother hen."
  "Okay.  I'll try.  Sit here,"  she said pointing to our bed.
  "I think I need to pee first."
  "You know where it is."
  "I'll be right back.  Don't start without me," Mari joked as
she poked her head back through the toilet doorway.
  "Is everything alright?"  I asked.
  "I think we're just a little nervous."
  "You too?"
  "A bit.  I want everything to be perfect for her.  I don't want to
be too pushey, but I want to guide her.  I don't want to do too much,
but I want to offer her what ever she's comfortable with; some of
which, I'm sure she has never imagined.  I want her first time to be 
everything mine was not."
  "Just relax.  She'll let you know what she wants, or if things
are too much for her."
  "I hope so."
  "Trust her."
  "Did I interupt anything?"  Mari asked.
  "No.  No..."  my wife said shaking her head.
  "Nothing came out.  I guess I just thought I needed to."
  We all three, stood smiling at each other.
  "So,"  my wife finally said.  "Maybe we should... get in bed."
  "Okay," Mari stammered.  Her voice giving way.
  I nodded.
  "Why don't you get in first dear, and Mari can go between us."
  I climbed in and held the covers up for Mari.  Our bed was an old
wrought iron, four poster.  It weighed at least a hundred pounds, and
squeeked like hell when we made love.  The first time we saw it our
eyes met and we knew that we had to have it.  We even bought an
antique foot stool to match as the matress was almost to her chest and
she needed a boost to get in.  Besides, it was great for those rare
occasions that we both felt like playing tie up games.  Mari pulled up
her gown and hopped in.  As she did, I got a fleeting glance of her
beautiful, young mound.  It caught me by surprise.  I loved my wife to
shave, or keep her's well trimmed, but the sight of a naturally
hairless vulva made my mouth water.  My wife rolled in and quickly
took off her night clothes.  I saw Mari take a deep breath.  I knew
that all of the strip games were intended to help her become more at
ease with her body, but her reluctance worried me.  Perhaps she had
changed her mind.  To have come this close, to the brink of supreme
sensual fullfillment and quit, would be a cruel torture.
  "Want some help?"  my wife asked, coming to Mari's emotional rescue.
  "Uhmm... okay."
  She turned toward my wife who lifted the cotton gown over her head.
I studied the youthful muscles of her back.
  "Do you want to learn how to kiss?" my wife suggested.
  Mari took another deep breath.  "Okay."
  I could see her shiver.
  "Why don't you and I try it first," my wife suggested.  "Have you
ever done that with one of your girlfriends?"
  "One time at a party," Mari answered with a slight blush.  "I
touched tongues with Sarah, and we used to share candy without taking
it out of our mouths too."
  "Good.  Then let's start by touching tongues."
  Mari giggled and stuck hers out.  Of course, I couldn't see much
because her back was to me, but my wife smiled and gingerly licked
her.
  "Now lips."
  Mari tilted her chin up and leaned toward my wife.
  "Do it as if we were sharing candy."
  I watched my wife's hands move around Mari's back as their
mouths met.  Mari cooed softly and lied back.  Her hands cautiously
wrapping around my wife.  I could feel a growing pressure between my
legs.  It was time to slip out of my clothes.  I did so and grasped my
penis with my right hand.  It almost ached with rigidity.  My wife
kicked off the covers as Mari wrapped her legs around her legs.  I
stroked my shaft slowly, watching the two girls.  They almost danced
together, rubbing and touching, their bodies rolling and blending to 
one form.
  "Are you ready to try it with a guy?"  my wife wispered.
  "Yes," Mari panted.
  My wife kissed down her neck and onto her chest, touching her tongue
to the tiny breasts then dragging it toward her stomach.  Mari arched
her back.  I kissed her forehead.  She opened her eyes.
  "Hi..." she said softly.
  "Hi yourself..."  I kissed her ripe, ruby lips and lay myself over
her chest.  Her miniature breasts pushed against me.  She opened her
mouth; our tongues met.  Her arms wrapped around me and mine around
her.
  "Is everything alright, Mari?" my wife asked.
  "Mmm... huh," she moaned.
  "I'm going to start something new.  It might tickle a little.  Are you
ready?"
  "Mmm... huh."
  I knew that my wife's kisses were approaching a very personal place.
  "Mmm..."  Mari shuddered beneath me.  Her breathing quickened.  "Mmm..."
  "I'm going to put a finger into you, Mari.  Is that alright?"  my wife asked.
  "Mmm...  Oh, yes!"  she said interupting our kisses for a moment.
  "Can you squeeze my finger?"
  Mari's hands began to wonder down my body.
  "Do it like you're trying to keep from peeing."
  "Mmm..."
  "Tighter, Mari... Good."
  "Ohhh..."
  Her fingers closed around my throbbing pole.  I let my hands wander
to her budding chest, lightly running a finger over the protrusions.
  "Now push like you want to pee.  Good.  Now do that while I kiss you here."
  "Ohhh.."  Mari's body seemed to explode.  She writhed in pleasure.
I rode her churning figure.  
  "You're better at this, love.  Would you like to change places?"
  "Would I?"  I thought.  "What a stupid question."
  I kissed Mari's neck, then her wonderful chest.  Her breasts were
no more than nipples with a swelling of skin around them.  I tickled
them with my lips, sucking them gently into my mouth and lightly
flicking them with my tongue.  She arched and moaned.  My wife and I
kissed as we passed each other.  She smelled like Mari.
  "Would you like to taste yourself?" my wife asked Mari.
  "Um- huh."
  My wife pressed against her lips as I worked my way across her
stomach and down to her smooth pubic mound.  I let my tongue and lips
enjoy the rise, then fell into the rapture of her slippery slit.  I
licked between her massive inner labia and onto her clitorus.
  "Aye..." she moaned.
  I carefully slid a finger into her.  She was hot, wet and tight.  I
could feel her hymen close around my knuckle.  I licked harder.
  "Yes!  Oh yes."
  I buried my face in her crotch.  Her callow juices coated me.  Her
youthful scent filled my nostrils.
  "Oh God!"
  "Push and pull, Mari!  Push and pull!" my wife urged.  "Is she doing it
dear?"
  "Umph."  I managed as Mari's mound pounded against me.
  "I... I..." Mari screamed.
  I wrapped my arms around her legs to keep from being thrown from her bucking
hips.
  "God.  Oh my God," she sighed.
  At once she began to shake.  Her thin frame shuddered with spasms of
pleasure.
  "Ohhh!" she screamed, collapsing.
  She lie sweating and panting.
  "Nice job, honey," my wife said with a kiss.  "Mmm.  That's
good."  She licked my face and slipped her tongue between my lips.
  "I never imagined..."  Mari breathed.
  "What?"  my wife teased.
  "It would be so intense.  I still tingle all over."
  My wife slid her finger down Mari's dripping crack.
  "Ow!"  Mari jumped.
  "Still a bit sensitive, I see. I guess it's somebody else's turn,"
she said looking at me slyly.  "Do you want to see something that
drives men wild?  You can help if you want."
  My wife pushed me down and assaulted my penis with skill and
precision.  Years of experience had taught her how to bring me to the
brink of heaven, then plunge me into a blissful purgatory.  She licked
me like an ice cream cone, starting at the base of my shaft ending at
the tip, pausing over the most sensitive area to flitter the tip of
her tongue.  I fell back and clutched a bed post.  Mari watched with
great interest and I watched her equally enthralled.  My wife took my
pole in her mouth swallowing its entirity, no easy task, I might add.
Mari's eyes were round with wonder.
  "How do you do that?"
  "Practice, the correct angle and concentration."
  She swallowed me again, just to show off.  Mari moved closer intent
upon experiencing everything.
  "What does it taste like?"
  "Nothing right now.  If you do this much longer you'll get a
surprise.  But, I think he'll be a good boy tonight.  Won't you
honey?"  she asked as she wrapped one of Mari's delicate hands
around my shaft.  "Just lick it at first."
  Mari's tongue danced up the length of my penis.  What a wonderful
feeling.  Not exactly a mind numbing experience, but exciting just the
same because of the inexperience exhibited.  She took the tip in her
mouth and jammed her head down, choking when it reached her throat.
She stiffened and tried again with the same result, then rose with
watering eyes.
  "Take it easy, now.  This takes a bit of practice.  You can't
learn everything tonight," my wife warned.
  "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry."
  "It's alright," I said reassuringly.  "Just go slowly.  What
you're doing feels wonderful."
  "Really?"
  "Give me a little more."
  She bent over me once again.  My wife straddled my face.  Her
familiar scent and taste covered me.  I sucked her inner lips into my
mouth and followed the ridges to her clitoris.  Starting with slow
circular movements I began to excite her.  When she began a subtle
thrusting I took her into my mouth and slowly rubbed my tongue the
length of her slit, alternately inserting it into her vagina then
sliding it up to the swelling nugget of sensitivity at the top.  When
her movements began to accelerate, so did my tongue.  I concentrated
my efforts on her hardening knob of pleasure.  Her legs tightened
around my head.  Mari seemed to be enjoying herself and had quickened
her stroke; almost to the point of making me come.  I couldn't though.
I had to resist.  An unexpected salty shot to the back of her throat
was not something that would encourage Mari to repeat this
performance.  My wife's breath came in short puffs.  She grabbed my
hand and arched her back.
  "Ahhh!"  she screamed out.
  I wouldn't let her off of me, I held her down to intensify the orgasm.
  "No more.  No more.  Please."
  I released her.  She fell off of me.  Mari looked up.
  "Do you like this?"
  "It's great, Mari."
  In all honesty, my struggle to keep from coming had rendered me
somewhat desensitized, but the warmth of her eager mouth around my
penis felt good.  My wife pulled herself up and leaned against the
metal bars of the headboard.
  "Mari, does this feel alright?" she asked her chest still heaving as
she ran a finger through Mari's still moist crack.
  "Yes."
  "You're not too sensitive?"
  "I don't think so."
  "Would you like to come again," she said finally catching her breath.
  "Okay," Mari smiled.
  "Lie on your back dear," my wife directed me.
  "Now, Mari, you lie on your back, on top of him."
  "Like this?" Mari asked sitting on me.
  "Lie back."
  I nibbled at her ears and took her hands in mine, guiding them to
her swollen nipples.  Her head fell back against my cheek.  I felt my
wife take my penis into her mouth, then set it against the warmth of
Mari's waiting virginity.  Her tongue traveled its length and off the
tip to Mari's soft fleshy labia.  She responded immediately cooing and
moaning.
  "Whenever you want to, you can push down on him dear."
  Her hips began to slowly rock on mine.  With each thrust I felt the
head of my penis testing her hymen, just peaking through a tiny
opening.  My wife's tongue fluttered on Mari's clitorus.
  "Oh yes.  Harder.  Lick harder."
  My wife abliged.  Mari's motion grew more fervent, but each time
she pressed too deeply her hips snapped back.
  "Um-huh... Oh... Um-huh," she repeated softly.
  I tried to lie still, waiting for Mari to make her decision. I
wanted to be sure that I didn't take that moment from her.  But, my
wife teased me mercilessly by sliding her fingers up and down my penis
in lubrication stolen from Mari's dripping hole and licking the
sensitive tip.  She was scheming.  I sensed it.  Did she want me to
come, and with my orgasmic spasm bury myself in Mari's virgin hole?
That couldn't be what she wanted.  She was controlling the
situation too carefully.  Each time a tightness developed in my
scrotum and I began an almost imperceptible thrusting, she would move
her attentions to Mari.  
  "It seems like it will hurt much more than it actually does," my
wife whispered.  "You'll feel a stretching, or popping, but you won't
be harmed.  You must have courage.  Concentrate on what I'm doing.
Enjoy the building tension in your vagina and think about how
wonderful it will be to be filled up and have that tightness released
throughout your entire body.  When you feel like you're about to
burst with energy, push down with all your might."
  My wife started her methodic oral message once more.  Mari's
breathing quickened.  Her movement increased.
  "Oh yes.  More... More..." she sighed.
  That's what my wife wanted, the taste of virgin blood!  And, she
would have it, from the most stunning vantage point of all, literally
beneath her chin.  She would see the actual moment of first
penetration.  It would be the perfect finale for Mari's transition
from girl to woman; an explosion of sensuality.  It would be the
perfect ending to the dance my wife had choreographed; a lift for the
final curtain; and she had saved herself a front row seat.  I felt
Mari's body begin to stiffen.  I knew she was close.  She pulled my
arms around her.
  "Ah!" she cried out.
  My wife doubled her efforts.
  "Oh my God!"  Mari screamed plunging herself down on me.  The thin
membrane that separated what she was from what she would become
strained and broke around my throbbing penis.  I was suddenly overcome
by my own passion and thrust myself deeply into Mari.  My wife licked
furiously.
 "God yes!" Mari shouted.
  I was enveloped by her hot, quivering chasm.  Another thrust and
that familiar tightness in my scrotum blasted into her belly.  My hips
pitched upward nearly knocking the girls from me.  We all three
collapsed into a sweating heap in the middle of the bed.  My wife
looked up, her smiling face smeared with blood and semen.  I tasted
the ferrous mixture with a kiss.  Mari kissed her as well.  We kissed
each other and laughed, all sharing in Mari's wonderous experience.
  "I couldn't imagine this happening in any better way,"  Mari thought aloud.
  And really, neither could we.