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Subject: {ASSM} <THM>  "The Way to Pittsburgh" Mat Twassel 
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The Way to Pittsburgh
by Mat Twassel

For their first anniversary Edward got Miranda a pair of 
silk scarves, one of bold dark red, the other of soft 
serene white.  "I couldn't decide," Edward told her.

"They're both so beautiful," Miranda said.  She touched the 
fabric to her cheek.  "Why don't you light the candle and 
turn out the light?"

"But they're not as silky as I thought they'd be," Edward 
said. He struck a match. "Shouldn't silk be silky?  
These are kind of rough."

"Raw silk is rough," Miranda said, pushing down her 
jeans and panties and stepping out of both.  "Refined 
silk is more slippery."

"Oh," said Edward.

"But sometimes," Miranda said.  She let one scarf, the 
white one, flutter out, and it hung for a moment like a 
frail night cloud. "Sometimes I like it rough."

"You do?" Edward said.

"A little rough," Miranda said, and she whirled around, 
and the red scarf wrapped her spin.  "See how these 
scarves excite me?"  She laughed as the silk drifted across 
her breasts and down.  "See how the silk makes my nipples 
all fat and stiff?"

"You're so beautiful," Edward said.

"Thank you for the beautiful scarves," Miranda said. "You 
could use them to tie me to the bedpost." 

"Why would I do that?" Edward asked.

"So I wouldn't get away?" Miranda teased. "So that you 
could have your way with me."

"My way," Edward repeated.

"And what way would that be?" Miranda asked.

"This way," Edward said as he kissed her.

"This way," Edward said as he fondled her.

"This way," Edward said as he fucked her.

For their second anniversary Edward bought a pair of 

Miranda laughed.

"What's so funny?" Edward wanted to know.

"These bicycles," Miranda said. "They're so ... so old-

"Maybe I'm old-fashioned," Edward said.

"I like them, though," Miranda said.  "I like them much 
better than dueling pistols. The dark green, the shiny 
chrome, the plump, plush seats, and especially the fat, 
fat, really fat balloon tires."  She laughed again.

"I wanted something comfy," Edward said.

"Let's go riding," Miranda said.  "Let's go riding right 

"You sure it's not too late?" 

They rode across town, all the way to the beginning of 
Buckchaser's Preserve.  They followed the paved path to 
the parking lot, and there they got off the bikes and 
walked down to the little stream that flowed from the 
hills.  Edward and Miranda held hands as they watched 
pale clouds stretch across the twilight. The last of the 
day's sunbeams played upon the gurgling stream. 

"It's so peaceful here," Miranda said. "So perfectly, 
perfectly peaceful."

"Mm," said Edward, "but it's almost dark.  We should be 
heading back soon."

"I don't know if I can," Miranda said.  "I'm not used to 
this.  My thighs are so achy."  She pulled down her 

"What are you doing?" Edward asked.

"Showing you my achy thighs," Miranda said.

"Nice thighs," Edward said, "but aren't you afraid that 

"Hush," said Miranda.  "Just knead me."

"I do," Edward said.

"No, knead me with your hands."

"Where?" Edward asked.  He knelt before her and touched 
his fingertips gently behind her knees.

"Higher," Miranda said.

Edward moved his hands upward. He kneaded the muscles.

"Mm," Miranda sighed.  "That's nice.  More.  Harder."

Edward worked his fingers on Miranda's firm flesh.

"On the inner part, too," Miranda said.

"Like this?"

"Yes," she hissed.  "Now higher."



"How high?"

"All the way.  Oh. Oh yes.  There. There."

The next year Edward bought Miranda a box of fine 
stationery.  As soon as Miranda stepped into the 
apartment after work, Edward handed her the wrapped 

"Too light for more bicycles," Miranda said.  "Too heavy  
for more scarves."  She shook the box and smiled and then 
undid the silver bow and removed the wrapping.

"It's very nice," Miranda said.  "Is this the paper 

"You're disappointed?" Edward said.

"No," Miranda said.

"There's this to go with it."  He took the pen from his 
jacket's inside pocket.  "At the store I liked how smooth 
it felt. And how nice it flowed."  He handed the pen to 

"A nice weight," Miranda said.  "And good balance.  Is it 

"I think it might be pewter," Edward said.  "Why don't 
you test it?"

"Okay," Miranda said.  She began to sit at the table in 
the dining area.

"No," Edward said.  "Not there."

Miranda gave him a puzzled look.  Edward took her hand 
and led her into the extra bedroom.

"Oh," Miranda exclaimed.  "A little writing desk.  I love 

Edward smiled.  "It's mahogany.  From the early 

"Like us," Miranda said. "It's beautiful.  Look how the 
sunlight makes it gleam."

"The velvet on the chair is new," Edward said.

"And such a deep, dark red," Miranda said.  She smoothed 
her hand over the fabric.  "It's really nice."  She 
started to sit.

"Wait," Edward said.

"Is there more?"

"No.  I just thought maybe you should take your clothes 
off first.  Before you sat."

"That's a good idea," Miranda agreed.  She took off her 

"How does it feel?" Edward asked.

"Mmm," Miranda said.  "It feels 'mmm.'"

"I'm going to take a picture of you, okay?" Edward said.

"A picture?"

"Of you sitting at the desk.  Because you look so 

"Okay," Miranda said.  "Should I pretend to be writing? 
What should I pretend to write?"

"Anything you want," he said.  He snapped the picture.  
He snapped several pictures.  Miranda continued writing.

"Now touch yourself," Edward said.  "Touch yourself with 
the pen."

"You're so naughty," Miranda said.  But she brought the 
pen to her nipple.  "Like this?" she asked.

"Mm," Edward said.  "Keep doing it."

"It tickles."

"It looks sexy."

"Should I do the other one?"  She didn't wait for Edward 
to answer. The pen flicked the nipple from the underside 
up.  "This is making me ..."

"It looks so nice," Edward said.

"I feel so ...."

"You look so ...."

"I just hope I don't get the seat all ...."  The tip of 
the pen continued to circle the nipple.

"Touch lower now," Edward said.

"Lower?"  The pen moved down.  It paused at the belly 
button.  It dipped inside.

"Lower," Edward said, snapping another picture.

The pen crept into Miranda's snug thicket.

"Lower," Edward said.  "Touch it. Touch it now."

"Oh, Edward," Miranda said, touching the tip of the pen 
to the top of her clitoris.  "Oh, Edward, I think I'm 
going to  ...."

"Do it," Edward said.

Abruptly Miranda's body jerked.  "Oh, oh, oh," Miranda 
moaned. The pen dropped.  Miranda's hands covered her 

"You're so naughty," Miranda said a few minutes later.

"I couldn't help it," Edward said.  "I love you so much."

"I couldn't help it, either," Miranda said.  "Did you get 
me? Did you get me when I ...?"

"I think so," Edward said.  "You look so pretty when 
you're ...."

"I don't know," Miranda said.

"What don't you know?"

"Whether I'm coming or going."

"Huh?" Edward said.

"Whether I look pretty when I ...."

"You do! You'll see.  When you look at the picture you'll 

"I don't know if I want to look at the picture."

"I want you to," Edward said. 


"So you'll know whether you're coming or going. But first 
show me what you wrote on the new stationery."

"I feel a little ...."


Miranda showed Edward the sheet of paper.

    Thank you for this desk.  It is so nice.  You 
    are so nice.  You are such a nice man.  I love 
    you.  I love you so much. I am so so happy.  I 
    think my present for us is going to be a baby.  I 
    think it's time.  Would that be okay with you?  
    It's something I want. Really and truly.  
The letter left off there.

Edward looked at Miranda.  "Only what?" he asked.

Miranda laughed.  "I was going to write, 'Only when the 
baby comes this will be the nursery and where will we put 
my beautiful writing desk?'"

"I'm sure we'll find a spot for it," Edward said.

Miranda was soon pregnant.  But four months later she 
lost the baby.  Two weeks after that Edward lost his job.  
"Maybe it's for the best," he told Miranda.  "That we 
lost the baby, I mean."

"How can you say that?" Miranda asked.  Her eyes were 
wide.  And then she turned her back.

"Wait," Edward said.  "I was just thinking that ... I 
don't know.  We can try again.  In two or three weeks.  
We can ...."

"Maybe you're right," Miranda said.  Edward moved so he 
could see her face. He saw her wipe a tear.

"No, really.  We can try again," Edward said.  "It will 
work out.  And I'll probably find a new job soon.  And 
even if I don't ...."

"Maybe we're not supposed to be parents," Miranda said.  
"Maybe we're not really meant to ...."

"To what?"

"To anything."

"We are," Edward said.  "We are! We're meant to 

"I don't know," Miranda said.  "I don't want to think 
about it right now, okay?"

Summer was underway, and Edward's job hunt had met with 
no success.  He sent out resumes and went on several 
interviews, but the only offers he got were in distant 
cities, and Miranda was not about to give up her job.  
"Something around here is bound to turn up," Miranda 
said, and she hugged Edward.

"Maybe I'm in the wrong field," Edward said.  "Or maybe I 
should take the offer in Pittsburgh.  That's not too too 
far, is it?"

Miranda didn't say anything.

"Why'd you even let me go for the interview if you knew 
moving there was out of the question?"

Miranda remained silent.

"Maybe I could take it just for a while.  Just to see?"

"If you want to," Miranda said.  "Suit yourself."

"Don't be that way," Edward said.

"What way?" Miranda answered.

"You think I'm a failure," Edward said.

"I don't.  I don't think you're a failure.  You think 
you're a failure."

"If you'd had the baby you would have left your job, 
wouldn't you? So why can't we try Pittsburgh?"

"I don't know if I would have left my job or not," 
Miranda said.  "I like my job. If you want to try 
Pittsburgh go right ahead."

"You know I won't do it without you."

"Maybe you should."

"Maybe I should."

But he didn't.  He stayed home day after day and did the 
dishes. One mid morning as hot water streamed into the 
pots, Edward took care to add only a small squirt of 
liquid soap. He laughed at himself for his silly 
frugality and called Miranda at work to tell her.  
"Tonight I'm going to give you a bubble bath," he said 
into her voice mail. "The way we used to.  Mounds and 
mounds of silky bubbles."  He hung up the phone and set 
off on a bike ride.  He pedaled across town to 
Buckchaser's Preserve.  He coasted down the lane towards 
the lower parking lot.   The sun was high and bright, and 
the main part of the lot was empty, but around the corner 
were two cars parked nose to nose.  One of them was 
Miranda's car.  Miranda was in it, sitting on the 
passenger side with her legs up on the dash, and there 
was a man standing just outside the car, talking to her 
and staring into the space between her thighs.  
Straddling his bike, Edward watched.  Miranda shifted, 
and her legs opened wider.  The skirt slipped higher. 
Then lower. Then it disappeared.   Sun glinted off the 
roof of Miranda's car and off the spokes of Edward's 
bicycle as he pedaled home.

That night Edward was setting the table in the 
dining area.  "Should I light the candles?" he asked 

"It you like," Miranda said.

"It's only left over spaghetti, but I thought ...."

"Candles would be fine," Miranda said.  "But I need to 
take a shower now."

"Was it a rough day at work?" Edward asked.

"It was okay," Miranda said. "The usual. By the way, some 
of us are going camping next weekend. It's kind of an 
office thing.  A getaway."

"Camping?" Edward said.  "But we don't even have a tent."

"I'll just share with someone."

"You mean I'm not invited?"

"I told you, it's an office thing."

"But that's over our anniversary."

"I know," Miranda said.  "It wasn't like I picked the 

"This is crazy," Edward said.  "Since when do you even 
like camping?"

Miranda put her finger on Edward's lips.  "Hush," she 
said.  "Life isn't one big bubble bath.  Sometimes you've 
got to rough it a little.  It'll be fine.  You'll see. 
Don't look so glum."  She hugged him.  "Okay now?" 

Edward nodded.  

"All right.  Then I'm going to take my shower. I'm really 
excited about this."

"Wait," Edward said.  "About the anniversary. Do you 
have any special wishes?"

"Not really," Miranda said. "You always do a good job."

"Yeah. I got us those bicycles one year. Remember that?"

"Mm," Miranda said.

"But we haven't been biking in a while," Edward said.

"Probably the tires are flat by now," Miranda said.
She laughed.  "Those fat, fat tires."

"We used to go all the way to the park?" Edward said.
"Remember that first time?"

"Mm, that was nice."

"And that pewter pen from last year--I haven't seen you
use it lately."

"I think it ran out of ink."

"I could get you a refill."

"For our anniversary?"

"No.  I mean just a refill."

"Oh," Miranda said. "Sure. A refill. But I'm not exactly sure 
where the pen is. I might have lost it."

"Lost it?"

"Probably at work.  You know how it is. Probably someone 
borrowed it and didn't give it back.  You tend to lose things 
like that at work."

"I'm sorry," Edward said.

"That's okay," Miranda said. "Anything else before I take my 

"You have beautiful nipples."

Miranda chuckled. "Too bad we don't have any French Silk
ice cream to go with them." Her eyes twinkled. "Maybe you could 
come up with a substitute." Then she turned and stepped into the
bathroom and closed the door.

Edward went to light the candles.

On the weekend of the camping trip Edward came home from 
grocery shopping to find the telephone message lamp 
blinking.  His heart leapt.  He was about to push the 
playback button when he remembered the ice cream, 
Miranda's favorite, and he put it in the freezer.  Then 
he pushed the button.

    Hello, Mrs. Pelz, this is Wendy Jefferson.  
    Conrad's wife.  You were the only Pelz in the 
    phone book so I'm hoping I have the right one--
    that you're the Pelz who works with Conrad--whose 
    husband is camping with Conrad this weekend?  I'm 
    really sorry to bother you, the thing is it's kind 
    of an emergency and I need to get in touch with 
    Conrad.  His father was just admitted into the 
    hospital and I was hoping maybe your husband had a 
    cell phone or something so I could get a hold of 
    them, so I could let him know.  If you could call 
    me back right away.  I would really ...
Edward pushed the button.  Then he put away the rest of 
the groceries.  He was almost done when the phone rang.

"Hello?" he said.

"Mr. Pelz?" came the voice, the same voice as before.  
Wendy Jefferson.

"Yes," Edward said.

"That's what I thought," the woman said.  "You're on 
Bluebird Lane, right? I'm coming over."

"Wait," Edward said.  But the woman had hung up.

Edward thought about going out, but he didn't.  An hour 
later a young woman showed up at his door.  She was about 
Edward's age, and she was pretty and well-dressed, but 
her eyes were red-rimmed, and Edward could see streaks of 
tear stains on her cheeks.  

"Wendy?" Edward said.  "Mrs. Jefferson?"

The woman nodded.  

Edward gestured for the woman to come in. "Is your father 
okay? I'm afraid we don't have a cell phone."

"Conrad's father," Wendy said.   She wiped a sniffle with 
her forefinger.  "He's okay.  He's fine.  It was a 
mistake mostly.  A false alarm."

"Oh," Edward said.

Wendy didn't reply.

"Well, that's good news, isn't it?"

"Good news," Wendy repeated dully.

"Then why did you come over?"

Wendy sniffled.  "You're not happy to see me?"

Edward wasn't sure what to say.

"You look like a nice man," Wendy said.  "You probably 
are a nice man. I don't see why he ... why she ... why 
they're doing this."

"Why who's doing what?"

"Your wife," Wendy said.  "Your wife and my husband."

"You don't see why they're camping?"

"They're not camping," the woman exclaimed.  "Surely you 
can't be that na ve.  Okay, maybe they're camping.  But 
mostly they're fucking.  Fucking like crazed minks."

"You don't know that," Edward said.

"Ha!" the woman said.  She reached into her purse.  She 
thrust two envelopes into Edward's hands.  "When I 
couldn't get a hold of you I looked in Conrad's 
briefcase.  That's where I found them."

"Look," Edward said.  "Maybe if we ... if we ...."

"If we got even?" Wendy said.  

"Got even?" Edward asked.

"If we fucked.  If we fucked like wild minks right here 
on the floor."  

Wendy reached for him. She had her hands on Edward's belt.

"No," Edward said.

"No?" Wendy tried to work the buckle.

"I don't think it would be a good idea right now."

The woman shook her head. She wiped her sniffles.  "I'm 
not beautiful enough, is that it?  I'm not good enough 
for you."

"You are," Edward said.  "It's not about that. You're 
very beautiful.  It's just that ... that I'm not ... I'm 
not ...."

"I can see that," the woman said.  "I can definitely see 
that.  It's no wonder your wife left you.  But I can't 
see why Conrad left me. I'll tell you something. A little 
secret. I'm a really good fuck.  I know I am. Everyone 
would say so if they only knew. You don't know what 
you're missing."

"I'm sure you are a very .... That you're very good," Edward 
said. "But how do you know this isn't all some kind of test?" 

Wendy cocked her head. "Test?  Test!  My God. You're 
really .... You're really, really .... You're right.  This 
is some kind of test.  And you've failed.  You've failed 
so bad."

"Would you like a cup of tea or something?" Edward asked.  
"Maybe we could sit down and ...."

After Wendy left, Edward boiled a cup of tea for himself. 
He took the tea into the second bedroom along with the 
letters.  He set the tea cup on the writing desk and 
stared at the envelopes.  It was the anniversary 
stationery, no question about that. The writing was 
definitely Miranda's. 

    My dearest dearest,

          I love you. I love you.  I love you. I love
    love love you. I love your eyes.  I love your nose.  
    I love your mouth and I love your tongue and I 
    love your smile and when you look at me with your 
    dark smiling eyes I go weak weak weak weak in my 
    knees and I get wet wet wet between my legs, and 
    when you kiss me and taste me and when you oh god 
    I can't wait for the rest of it, the rest of you. 
    Your cock.  Your big beautiful cock.  Your big 
    beautiful cock pushing inside me, stretching me, 
    stretching me so wide and wet and oh god making me 
    can't breathe making me come making me come so 
    quick and hard even before you're all the way in oh 
    god oh my big man I can't breathe I need you so much.  
    I just want to suck you hard again and again and feel 
    you fucking me--fucking me and fucking me and 
    fucking me, and your finger in my ass when you 
    fuck me, and then your cock there, where no one's 
    ever been, fucking me so hard and deep, and I want 
    to suck you right after, right after you've come 
    in my ass, and make you, just make you.
    Thank you for the silky panties.  That was so 
    sweet of you.  They're magic. When I'm wearing 
    them I can feel your breath on my bottom.  I can 
    feel your lips whispering to my button. "Come out 
    little clitty," they say. "Come and play with my 
    tongue."  And in the middle of work I flush and 
    flood and nearly faint with want. Hot and wet I 
    become, and I think of your cock and its hot yummy 
    cum,  and it's all I can do to keep from hurrying 
    into the bathroom, but I'll wait for you, I'll 
    wait even though my cunt aches for your cock. Oh 
    God.  I'm on the edge.  Right now. If I squeeze my 
    legs I'll go over.  I know I will. God. Soon. Soon 
    soon soon. At lunch you'll see for yourself how 
    much. You know what? I love that you wear jockeys.  
    I love the bulge. The bulge of your balls and the 
    bow of your cock. The way the tip rises up above the 
    band.  So big and plum purple and delicious, the 
    whole head, so big, rising up, and the shaft 
    straining, the huge ripe bulge of it, and when I 
    touch along the shaft, when my tongue tip touches 
    just under the rim, and you quiver and shoot, and 
    the cum leaps up, when it splashes your jaw, 
    that's so cute, so sexy, so hot.  And I have to 
    taste the drip.  And then kiss you.  You come so 
    hard, my big boy.  So hard and strong and much. 
    I'm surprised it didn't knock you out.  
    Maybe they should call jockeys boxers, do you 
    think? Maybe they have it backwards.  Edward wears 

Edward stopped reading.  He put the letter back in the 
envelope and then he put both envelopes in the drawer of 
the writing desk.  He picked up the tea cup.  It was cold 
now, but the heat from earlier had left a circular stain 
on the finish.

In the evening he picked up the telephone.  "Wendy," he 
said.  "Wendy, this is Edward.  I've been thinking about 
what you said.  About getting even.  Maybe we could get 
even.  Maybe we could even get a head.  Why don't you 
come over, okay?"

"Conrad's home," Wendy said.

"He is?"

"Yes. He was home when I got home."

"I don't understand."

"I don't either, but I can't talk about it right now.

Miranda came home late the next afternoon.

"Did you have a good camping trip?" Edward asked.

"It was fun," Miranda said.  "Refreshing.  I'm glad I 
went.  How were things here?"

"Okay," Edward said. "I missed you. I got you some of
your favorite ice cream."

"You're sweet," Miranda said. "I missed you, too. I'm 
sorry we had to miss our anniversary."

"Maybe we could make up for it," Edward suggested. "You 
want to have a little celebration?  In honor of your 
homecoming and our missed anniversary?"

"What kind of celebration?"

"I could light a couple of candles.  Maybe we could fool 
around a little."

"I'm kind of tired," Miranda said.


"Almost exhausted, really."

"I thought you said the trip was refreshing?"

"Well, it was.  But it was exhausting, too.  It's kind of 
hard to explain."

"I see," Edward said. "Maybe you could just lie down and 
relax then.  Maybe I could give you a massage.  A sort of 
rub down."

"Maybe," Miranda said. "But what I really need right now 
is a shower.  After tromping in the woods all weekend I 
probably ..."

"You smell fine," Edward said.  "Really.  All woodsy and 
wild.  Just lie down.  Relax.  I'll give you a good rub 
down.  Then maybe I'll read something to you.  Something 
soothing.  How would that be?"

"It sounds lovely, but I think I really need a shower 

"Okay.  Have it your way. Take a shower."

"Don't be mad. It won't be too long a shower.  And then 
maybe we could do a little something."

Miranda turned and took a towel from the bottom shelf.
"Maybe we could share some ice cream. After my shower
I might be more in the mood for it."

"Oh," said Edward.

Miranda turned and smiled at him.  "Doesn't that sound

"I guess so," Edward said. He watched Miranda undress.
She had her back to him, and the afternoon light streaming 
through the bathroom window bathed her body. A few stray 
beams glided between Miranda's legs allowing Edward
a brief glimpse of wispy pussy hair. 

"Remember those scarves I got you?" Edward asked.

"What about them?"

"Nothing.  I was just wondering if you remembered them."

"Sure I remember them.  I'm just not exactly sure where 
they are.  Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," Edward said. "Sometimes I think you don't
really need me."

"Need you?" Miranda said. "Sometimes you're so silly. So
seriously silly."

"Is that what you love most about me?" Edward asked.

"It's one of the things."

"And what else?" 

"Else?" asked Miranda. "My, you've gotten mighty greedy while
I've been away."

"What else?  Really?"

"Okay--let me think. I love that you love me. I know that 
no one loves me as much as you.  There. Satisfied?"

"Do you think I'm a good fuck?" 

There was a pause.

"I do, Edward. I do. I think you're the best fuck."

While Miranda was in the shower, Edward pedaled his 
bicycle toward Buckchaser's Preserve.  Not quite halfway 
there he saw a little girl sitting in the bright green 
grass of her front yard playing with a doll.  Edward 
stopped the bike and dismounted.  The little girl pulled 
the doll to her chest and looked up at Edward.

"Hiya," Edward said.  "That's a nice dolly.  I don't suppose
you'd want to trade it for this bicycle? As you can see it's
a very nice bicycle--very low mileage. But I think it might
be a bit too old-fashioned for me."

The girl looked at Edward but said nothing.

"I see," Edward said. "Well then, you don't by any chance 
happen to know if this is the way to Pittsburgh?"

The little girl shook her head.

"That's what I thought," Edward said.  "You can't get 
there from here."


The Way to Pittsburgh
by Mat Twassel

Note: This story is intended for private, non-commercial use 
by the readers of the newsgroup No
other use is permitted without the permission of the author.

Many thanks to Hecate for sponsoring the ASSM Anniversary
game for which this story was written.  The random theme
assigned to me was Adultery.

If you enjoyed this story, or even if you didn't, why not
send me a note?  The email address is
I like to get mail.

Finally, please consider sending a donation to ASSTR--the
folks who make ASSM possible. 

--Mat Twassel

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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