Feels Like the First Time

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  Copyright © 2013 by Uther Pendragon

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  Please don’t be stupid and kill yourself. This book is a work of FICTION.

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  Feels Like the First Time

  Romance Erotica

  By: Uther Pendragon

  ISBN: 978-1-62761-127-5

  © Uther Pendragon 2013

  Kimberly was waiting in a nightgown when he came out of

  the master bath. Before letting her by to have her own shower,

  he hugged her. "Happy anniversary, darling," he said.

  "Happy anniversary, John."

  He held a bottom cheek in each hand and squeezed gently while they kissed. She often complained of secretarial spread. A supportive husband, he applauded each attempt at reduction.

  (Actually, he enjoyed watching some of the exercises.) Still, he

  thought, she needn't bother; he loved the softness of her

  bottom.

  - = -

  She felt John's hands on her butt and his firmness against her

  body. "Des is still here," she warned. Saturday morning or not,

  fourteenth anniversary or not, they had to see their daughter off

  to day camp before they began that sort of anniversary

  celebration.

  "Mom, come quick," Des called as if on cue. John shrugged

  into his robe.

  "Second, darling," she called and reached for her own.

  Des was in her room watching her fish tank. That had been the major gift for her thirteenth birthday. They'd had their doubts, but it was quite a success. Where they had feared that she would only feed the betta for maybe five days, five months later she was still providing all the care. Indeed, Des knew more about fish care by this time than either of her parents.

  She knew more about fish in general, too. But she lacked her mother's empathy -- Kim hoped -- for this particular situation.

  The male was wrapped around the new female. Suddenly two tiny things emerged from the female. The male dived after them and captured them in his mouth.

  "Mom," said Des, "he's eating them."

  "No, darling, watch!" The fish swam up to a bunch of bubbles above him. He spat the eggs into the bubbles. That's one reason they had chosen to let her have the second betta. Des had begun her cycle a few months previously. Let her start learning about the birds and the bees with fish. "You could hardly expect him to hold his babies in his arms, could you? The fish use their mouths to hold things."

  Still, when he wrapped himself around his mate, he didn't look like he was being tender. Non-human things didn't have the sensitivity that John had shown. More than she'd wanted really.

  * * *

  They'd had a small reception after the ceremony. The families had managed to be quite friendly, really. Her sister was never friendly, having declined the invitation.

  Some of them had kept some rice, though, until the end of the reception. She and John were laughing and shedding rice all the way up the stairs to their new apartment. She combed her fingers through her hair in the doorway. He kissed her when the door was safely closed. It wasn't his first kiss of the evening, that had been the end of the ceremony; and clinking of glasses had called for many more during the reception.

  Still, this one lasted even longer, and his tongue probed instead of just visiting the tip of hers.

  When he stepped back, the bed seemed to dominate the room. They'd already tried it out, but this time everybody knew. (Not that it had been a particularly well-kept secret; Des had spoiled that.) She looked away from it into his face.

  "Oh, Kim," he said. He kissed her again. When they separated, she ducked into the bathroom. Once she'd used the facilities, she came face to face with a decision. They were going to sleep naked, they'd discussed that. Should she walk out undressed? She decided against that, but did remove her pantyhose instead of pulling them up. After a moment, she took off her panties as well. She pulled her skirt back on.

  How often had John seen her in a skirt? Not many times. There was nowhere to put the underclothes. She walked out with them in her hand.

  John greeted her with another kiss. This time his hands went to the buttons on her blouse. When he was done with those, she broke to put it on a hanger and her underclothes over a chair. He moved behind her to get the bra snaps. He kissed the back of her head while smoothing his hands over her sides and up to her breasts.

  "Not fair," she said, and started on his clothes. When he was down to underpants, he unsnapped her skirt. He bent over to lower it gently so she could step out of it. Probably, he was as aware as she was that it would be years before they'd be able to afford to replace clothes of this quality.

  "Oh Darling!" he said when her mound came into sight. He couldn't have avoided noticing her underpants in her hand and on the back of the chair. Still, he was reacting nicely.

  He kissed her there, kissed her again on the belly. Then he rose to kiss her full on the lips. He turned back the bed linens, and she climbed in.

  "Do you think it shows?" she asked.

  "No. Not when you're dressed. I have to look when you're like this, and
-- anyway -- I know." He knew; their families knew -- even her damned sister -- especially her disapproving sister. Probably their friends knew. She didn't say any of that, though. He kissed her belly, climbed in, and kissed it again.

  "Sweetness," he said.

  She tugged at the elastic of his underpants. He kissed her breasts before pushing his underpants down and throwing them on the floor. He went back to kissing her belly, all around the slight bulge, then lower into her hair, and then lower again.

  “Oh John!" she said. She tugged on his arms and spread her legs. Suddenly, she wanted him inside.

  "Oh yes," he said. But he stayed down there. He kissed her right on her lower lips and licked between them.

  "I want you inside," she said. She did want him inside, and wanted his weight on top of her.

  When he moved up in the bed and kissed her while hovering over her, she reached for him. Despite her feelings of expertise by now, they'd both were rather new at this. She placed him in just the right place, and he moved inward slowly and gently. "Oh, Kim," he said. Then he moved out and back almost all the way in.

  She wanted more, wanted him to fill her up. Well, he had already filled her up, but she desired another filling. Then he turned them mostly onto their sides.

  She gripped him with her thighs. Soon his hand snuck down between them. "Oh, Kim," he said again. And it was Oh! It was lovely. And he drove into her and out of her, and he caressed her at her most sensitive point. Then he kissed her softly at just the right time so that she gasped into his mouth.

  He followed a moment later, pulsing in her, filling her again with his hot sperm.

  * * *

  Even at his most passionate moments, he'd been gentler than

  the fish was. He'd been more protective of the baby. He'd really been more protective than he'd needed to be. And, when Des was being born, he'd sweated bullets. She'd never asked whether he'd been worrying about Des or about her. Probably, knowing her husband, about both.

  He should see this, though. The fish was carrying the eggs in his mouth. John would enjoy seeing another protective parent.

  - = -

  Des figured out that Pat and Mike were doing it. She wished

  she hadn't called her mom. She'd thought that she'd moved Mike into Pat's tank too soon and that he was fighting. They were called fighting fish -- all the articles warned against

  moving the female in too soon. Still, there wasn't any way to

  tear her eyes away. They were doing it. She just wanted to

  watch them by herself. Wasn't her mom embarrassed? And then, when it couldn't possibly get worse, it did.

  "John," her mom called, "you have to see this!"

  - = -

  He found his family watching the fish, watching another family apparently. One fish squeezed the eggs out of the other and then carried them up to the nursery. Then he -- fairly clearly it was he -- did it again. They were starting a family with three of

  another species looking on. Still, they should be used to the

  audience, if they could see them. Des spent hours watching them.

  And the worst way to start a family felt pretty good. He could remember.

  * * *

  The cast party was uproariously happy. Fitting in had been his hardest role, much harder than he'd had on stage. Angela had offered them a ride to Kim's place.

  Prof. Drake stopped him on the way out. "Wonderful performance, John," he said. "Can't I persuade you to change majors?"

  "Professor, I'm a junior." And what role would he get as a theater arts major the next year? They weren't going to do "The Emperor Jones."

  Angela dropped Dave and Annette off first. "Thanks, Angela," Dave said. "Forgive me?"

  "Not till after the last performance. But you were a great Iago." He and Kim murmured agreement.

  "And you were a wonderful Desdemona," Kim said as the doors closed behind the couple.

  "Thanks, Kim. But we know who was the star of the evening."

  For some reason that comment, kindly intended from a friend, broke the facade he had maintained throughout the party. "A triumph," he said, "of typecasting. Did you hear Drake? I wouldn't have even been considered if they had had a black male in theater arts."

  "There's Desmond," Kim said.

  "Desmond," Angela said before he could, "is not an Othello."

  "Look," Kim said, "casting is one thing. But the fact is that your performance was a triumph tonight. You worked hard; you did well; I was proud of you."

  "I'm glad," he said, not even trying to sound glad.

  "Now, kids," Angela said, "be good. This is a night for celebration, not for argument." She laughed. "Be good. And if you can't be good, be careful. And if you can't be careful...."

  "We'll name it after you," Kim had finished.

  Not that they had been anywhere close to that. (But, back then, they had hidden where they stopped from their friends even more carefully than they had hidden what they did from their parents.)

  "Kimberly," he gasped. She kissed him, and then the car was stopped at the door to her apartment house.

  Melissa was gone; she and Kim had some sort of arrangement. He kissed Kim for a while in the tiny living room. Soon, they moved into her bedroom. He unzipped her dress while kissing her deeply. She moved away to hang up the dress and slip. He took the opportunity to slip off his shoes, putting the socks inside them next to the bedroom door. She took her shoes and pantyhose off as well. He had to bend even further to kiss her like that.

  "I got two playbills this evening," she said. The play had been a university production -- theater arts hadn't owned it. And the University maintained a print shop.

  Two playbills on one ticket wasn't been that much cheating. "I think that I will send one to my mom."

  And the playbill had included an excellent (if small) photo of him.

  "How you communicate with your parents is your decision." Indeed, it was her issue. She wanted his race not to matter, but it did -- it had for every minute of his life. It would matter to her parents. Well, the photo would take care of that.

  Then she lay down, and that was much more comfortable. He kissed all over her face, then her neck -- carefully avoiding suck marks. When he kissed down her chest, she raised herself so he could reach her bra strap. Her breasts were so white, and the nipples so pink. He arched over her, kissing them while she unbuttoned his shirt. After he'd thrown the shirt and tee-shirt towards the back of a chair, they shared the longest kiss. Tongue met tongue; skin met skin; his clothed legs pressed between her naked ones.

  After he gave her breasts two quick kisses, she raised her bottom while he pulled her panties down. The hair down there was lighter than the hair on her head. The sight was still delightful each time, the feel more so.

  He rested on his left arm so that his mouth could move from breast to breast while his fingers were busy between her legs. "Oh, John," she gasped while pulling his hand against her even more firmly. He pulled back when she released him. Then he kissed the smooth whiteness of her breasts while she got her breath back.

  When it was her turn -- or maybe his turn, she stripped him and hung his trousers on the back of a chair and tossed his shorts onto the seat. She stopped, though, with him in her hand. The feeling was exquisite, but he knew he wasn't going to get off with her holding still.

  "Do you think," she said, "like Angela said, we could...? Could we be careful?"

  "Oh, darling," he said. He scrambled to get the wallet from his trousers and the condom he had kept there for months from the wallet.

  * * *

  And darling she'd been, and darling she still was. He reached out a hand to caress her bottom. Still watching the fish, she reached back and removed his hand. She held it in hers. Well, he'd take what he could get. He squeezed the hand, and she squeezed back. Des, presumably oblivious to her parents, was staring raptly into the fish tank. She should be oblivious to her parents' squeezing hands; she was totally oblivious to their orders. The
male now swam back to the female and squeezed her again. In sympathy, John squeezed Kim's hand. He got a squeeze back, which was more than the fish got.

  Still, Kim had always been demonstrative.

  * * *

  When he got the condom on, he started to kiss her breasts again. He intended to get her excited all over again before attempting entry. She, however, broke them apart to kiss him deeply. Then she lay back with her legs spread apart. While he wondered whether that meant what it seemed to mean, she reached over to gasp him.

  "Now, John," she said "now!"

  "Kimberly, darling Kimberly," he said, climbing between her legs. She placed him at the spot and pulled. He pressed forward, but it didn't go in. He pressed harder.

  "Do it," she said and clawed his bottom with her other hand. Suddenly, he passed whatever block there had been. Even through the rubber, he felt her heat. She was incredibly there, all around him.