Author: Uther Pendragon
Title: Inaugural Ball
Keywords: MF wl rom

If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law 
to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do 
something else. 

This material is Copyright, 2001, Uther Pendragon.  All rights 
reserved.  I specifically grant the right of downloading and 
keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long as 
this notice is included.  Reposting requires previous 
permission. 

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as 
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination 
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly 
coincidental.

                         =  = =  = =  = 

                         Inaugural Ball
                       by Uther Pendragon
                    nogardneprethu@gmail.com
 

After the restaurant they went dancing, following the pattern of 
their dating days.  During the fast dances, she was the 
hummingbird, spinning around and darting in and out.  David was 
the oak, standing still waving his hands and nodding his head in 
time to the music.  But she could always depend on a clutch to 
his arm to steady herself or change her direction.  The fast 
dances were artistic fulfillment. 

During the slow dances, his lead was direct.  She could dance 
with him or lean back in his arm and merely raise and lower her 
feet in time to the music.  He'd move them both where they had to 
go.  This, down where it was concealed from everybody else, was 
arousing. 

During one of those dances, she'd leaned back and looked up at 
his face.  His arm on her waist must have carried a third of her 
weight, and their groins were pressed together.  She grinned as 
she felt him harden.  She wasn't the only one aroused.  "Tease," 
he said.  "Getting enough dancing?" 

She would never get enough dancing, not dancing with him.  
Still, this wasn't the last act of this evening.  "Let's make 
this the last dance," she said. 

The weather had cooled when they came out, and he draped his 
jacket over her before he waved for a cab.  Although she kept the 
jacket, he sheltered in his arms during the ride.  He 
automatically moved upwind of her on the walk down the courtyard 
to their building.  His height and breadth partly shielded her 
from the wind and the spattering of rain. 

She ran up the last flight of steps, out of breath as much 
from laughter as from exertion.  When he was two steps down and 
pulling his keys out of his pocket, their heads were level.  She 
clasped his face to kiss him.  He stopped there for a minute, 
enjoying the kiss as much as she did. 

When they got inside, he took back his jacket and hung it up. 
She kicked off her shoes, and headed for the bathroom.  She took 
off her pantyhose rather than pull them back up, and she did the 
cleansing ritual, being too old to sleep in makeup.  Forgetfully, 
she reached for her diaphragm.  Then she stopped herself.  Not 
tonight; not ever again.  They were going to make a baby. 

His own trip took longer than usual.  She could smell his 
aftershave and feel his smooth cheek when she kissed him.  "You 
shaved again!" she said. 

"It's a special night."  He held her while he returned her 
kiss. Where hers had been flirtatious and laughing, his was slow, 
deep, serious.  His mouth no longer toyed with hers; his lips 
drew hers open while his tongue drove into her mouth.  When he 
broke the kiss, his eyes were no longer laughing back at hers; 
they were piercing, possessive, ardent. 

She shivered.  David had never hurt her during sex, not even 
the first time.  He'd never hurt her at all.  She wasn't truly 
worried that he would, although that seemed to be a worry of his. 
Still, when he looked at her like this, she felt vulnerable.  He 
was so large, so strong, and -- right now -- so hungry. 

He had worried when she'd mentioned it, so she had stopped 
mentioning it.  "Never fear me," he had said.  And, really, she 
didn't.  Just this little frisson as she thought of all that 
muscle and bone beneath his skin, all that desire focused on 
her. 

Careful not to mention it, she still felt vulnerable when he 
looked at her.  She trusted his gentleness.  He'd been the gentle 
husband she'd expected; she was sure that he would be the gentle 
father her children would need.  There was no reason to fear him, 
and no rational fear. 

There was only that one shiver, that and the dampness she 
could suddenly feel at her center.  More than the dancing - sexy 
as dancing was with him, more than the kiss on the stairs - fun 
as his kisses were, his predatory stare turned her on.  Still, 
there was only so much of that stare she could take.  She rested 
her head against his chest. 

"Do you know how beautiful you are," he said.  It wasn't a 
question.  She could have answered a question.  She looked 
healthy and pleasant enough.  But she'd turned no heads in the 
restaurant, let alone the dance club.  She'd never been 
beautiful, except in his eyes. 

He held her like that for a minute.  Then he kissed the top of 
her head and reached for the snap at the neckline of her dress. 
It took two hands, but he'd done it before.  He lowered the 
zipper.  After brushing the dress off her shoulder with his chin, 
he kissed her there while he took the zipper the last few inches. 
She shivered again at the licking and sucking. 

He didn't straighten until she had raised her arms.  Then he 
lifted the dress over her head.  He followed her into the 
bedroom, closing the door behind him.  He dropped his cufflinks 
and tie clasp on his dresser, slipped out of his shoes, and hung 
his tie in his closet while she got her dress just right in 
hers. 

More self-conscious in only bra and half-slip, she glanced 
away from his gaze.  Her brush caught her attention.  Did she 
have time for the hair ritual tonight?  Not really, and he would 
insist on doing the brushing while looking at her reflection. 

She turned and pulled back her shoulders; he unsnapped the bra 
and spread the sides before dropping them.  Topless, she shivered 
again, feeling even more exposed.  It was his turn now.  She 
reached up to unbutton his shirt. 

When his shirt was hanging loose, he took off shirt, trousers, 
and socks in a few efficient movements.  If her naked torso made 
her conscious of her vulnerability, why didn't his naked torso 
even the balance?  But it didn't.  The sight of the muscles 
flexing, the tight jockeys tenting, didn't expose him to her 
eyes.  It exposed her to his body.  His hard abs burned her 
nipples as they hugged. 

Then he bent to kiss her.  He shoved the elastic of the half 
slip down over her hips as he did so.  He picked her up without 
breaking the kiss.  The half slip fell away; his tongue took over 
her mouth; his chest was scratchy against her breasts; she was 
moving and swinging through space.  When those sensations ended, 
she was lying about two feet from the bottom of the bed and 
parallel to it. 

He turned on the dim lamp on her dresser and turned off the 
bright overhead.  He stripped off his shorts on his way back to 
bed.  He knelt on the floor, arching over the foot of the bed to 
kiss her.  As his tongue explored her mouth, his hand explored 
her body.  He cuddled her breast, smoothed down to her belly, 
stroked upward again to tease her nipples.  When both these were 
so full of blood that they ached, he stroked downward once again. 
He tickled her thighs and drew them apart. 

His hand clasped her center, warming her, claiming her, 
detecting -- she was certain -- the dampness of her panties.  He 
rose from the kiss to look her in the eyes while three 
fingernails scratched across that dampness.  She writhed as the 
fingernails tickled her, blushed as she faced his knowledge of 
her arousal. Finally, he freed her from his gaze by bending his 
head down to her breasts.  Each of these got generous attention 
before he rested a hand on her knees. 

"Sit up," he said.  When she did, lifting herself against his 
pressure on her knees, he shifted the hand under her knees and 
put the other one under her back.  With that support, she slid on 
her panties to the side of the bed and almost over it.  He stood 
and walked over so that she could rest her legs against his 
chest. 

Again, his nakedness didn't balance hers.  Instead, she felt 
as exposed to his erection -- jutting upward framed by her knees 
-- as to his eyes.  Maybe she was more exposed to it. 

Her heels were hooked over his shoulders, and she used that 
leverage to raise herself so he could loosen her panties.  When 
he pulled them up her legs, she was even more exposed; an 
exposure emphasized by his pushing her legs back and down while 
staring between them. 

His eyes kept fixed on her center while he knelt back down.  
Her legs draped over his back as he took one very audible sniff.  
Her embarrassment couldn't compete with her arousal, though, as 
his lips and tongue teased every surface of her sex.  His hands 
came forward to hold her breasts and play with her nipples. 

All the pleasure from her breasts and her mind and her center 
combined into something which was almost pain.  She stiffened, 
thrusting herself against his mouth.  She shuddered and shook. 
The feeling took her and swung her the way he had, totally beyond 
her control.  It was joy, it was beauty. 

It was over.  When she returned, she was lying with her back 
on the bed and her legs on his shoulders.  He was holding her.  
He straightened, and she felt his arousal at her entrance.  He 
lowered her legs from his shoulders to his hips, then bent down 
to kiss each of her nipples.  They were so sensitive that they 
tingled from his lightest suction.  Her labia were even more 
tender; the burned where his erection touched them, but she 
writhed to increase that touch. 

"Nothing between us," he said, looking straight into her eyes. 
Was there ever anything between them when they made love? Neither 
of them ever wore anything but their rings.  Then she realized 
what he meant.  She wore no diaphragm, he wore no condom.  Her 
womb was as exposed as her face. 

As she was thinking this, he straightened.  She felt his 
maleness pass between her labia as it pierced her.  His eyes 
pierced her as intimately.  Each possession was a fierce as the 
other, and she felt herself yield to both.  However much she felt 
herself blush, she couldn't look away from that stare.  She 
slowly stretched to accommodate him, feeling his head push her 
sensitized labia apart.  Then she felt his shaft rub against them 
as she was filled to completion, and then filled beyond 
completion. 

She took a sharp breath.  That always helped her accommodate 
the last little bit, but it also pressed her breasts into his 
hands. His eyes stared at her as his thumbs stroked across the 
tops of her nipples.  These stiffened even more in response.  He 
could feel that engorgement; his face showed that awareness. 

Could he feel that he was touching her, where they touched 
deep inside -- no intervening latex?  She couldn't, but she knew.  
He knew as well, had just said so.  And, having said so, he knew 
that she was aware of that ultimate exposure.  She blushed more 
deeply, couldn't help it. 

Neither could she help wiggling a little from the 
embarrassment and arousal.  And the wiggling rubbed her engorged 
labia against his curls.  Which increased her arousal.  And, 
since he could hardly miss the motion around him and against him, 
this increased her embarrassment as well. 

He began his own motions.  First, he moved from side to side 
-- moving her but also rubbing against her.  Then he slowly 
withdrew a bit before returning back inside.  She knew where 
these short motions were headed, the long strokes which would 
fill her and empty her again and again. 

Before David could reach that point, however, she tightened. 
Surprising her, ambushing her, the spasms wracked her body and 
took her away.  Agony filled her, and then joy. 

When she returned, he was motionless, his body stiffly 
vertical against her legs.  His erection was even stiffer and 
deep within her.  "Love," he said and began moving again.  She 
couldn't respond yet; there wasn't any *her* yet to do the 
responding. 

But, somehow, there was a response.  Not quite herself, it was 
flowing though her.  She even missed his motions within her when 
he paused.  Then he bent to kiss her breasts -- one brief kiss 
between them, one long suck on each nipple.  The nipples stung 
from the kisses, but that fire rushed through her. 

In that position, his strokes weren't quite so deep, but he 
could drive in more rapidly.  He slid slowly out until his crown 
smoothed her labia apart; then he drove in quickly until his 
groin pressed against them. 

Every stroke aroused her more.  When she teetered on the edge 
once more, he raised his head.  She glanced up and his eyes 
captured hers.  He stared straight at her as he drove in one 
final time.  Exposed to his eyes, she tensed.  She felt utterly 
full.  Exposed to that cock, she spasmed around it.  She heard 
him grunt, and his shudder matched hers.  Exposed to his sperm, 
she came. 

And came and came.  This time she didn't fly away.  This time 
the pleasure filled her as he filled her, as his sperm filled 
her. 

  His forehead was resting against hers, and they both 
were gasping. Then he withdrew and rested his head just below her 
breasts. Some time later, he rose and helped her into the bed.  
He washed, and came back with a washcloth for her.  While she 
used it, he brought her nightgown. 

They spooned, her back up against him, her front hidden by his 
massive arm.  Wrapped by his body, she was half asleep when he 
spoke. 

"Love you," he said. 

"Love *you*," she responded.  The close holding, the 
shelter of body and arm, communicated his love more convincingly 
than words ever could.  Someday, she would say, "I know that," or 
"I can tell." 

But not tonight.   


The End
Inaugural Ball
Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2001/07/19
2002/04/29
2003/05/23
2004/05/04


For another story involving a couple's 
relationship with pregnancy, see:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/Gjt/fos_07m.htm
"Relatively"  

This was writen as part of Pendragon's Second 
Challenge.  More description of the challenge 
and a directory of other entries may be found 
at:
p2c.txt 
Pendragon's Second Challenge  


This story is indexed in the subdirectory: 
wl.txt 
Wedded Lust  

The index to almost all my stories:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm