This was another story I wrote and posted it back in 1989 as part of the
Jesse Helms Erotic Literature Contest (which I invented).

Given the stunning performance of the Honorable Senator from Utah in the
recent Thomas versus Hill battle, I thought it might be worth dredging
it up and reposting it in honor of Senator Hatch.  The gist of the
contest was that the stories had to be erotic while confining themselves
to the kinds of constraints on sexuality that Helms and Hatch advocate.
In this story, I've tried to bend all the rules to the limit while
following them to the letter.

This story has been slightly touched up for reposting.
                                                                     SBD



                                  Rings
				   by
                             S. B. Douglass

                                  1990

                  This work may be redistributed freely
                  over USENET and connected networks.

I was in shock when I saw what Anne exposed when she undressed, but I've
got to admit it, she did warn me.  We met six months ago at a meeting of
the local support group for survivors of AIDS.  The group was hosted by
the local Metropolitan Church, but don't get me wrong, I'm not gay.  I'd
joined the group after the death of my previous lover; when we'd started
living together, she'd never told me that her previous lover was bi, but
now she'd paid for it with her life.  Now, I thank God that we'd always
used condoms.

Anne was very withdrawn when she first joined the group; she said that
she was an artist, into jewelry design, but that she usually worked as a
sales clerk in a jewelery store because her artwork didn't support her.
When she explained that she'd just arrived from Chicago, having fled the
city when her best friend was diagnosed with AIDS, I'm sorry to say that
we weren't a very supportive group.

While the rest of the group came down on her for abandoning her friend,
I admired her.  She was stunning looking, if plainly dressed.  Her long
hair was tied back in a ponytail to show her ears, and in each ear, she
wore a row of gold earrings that ran from the earlobe right up over the
top, as many as twenty in each ear.

I still remember Anne's outburst at her first meeting.  "Damn you!" she
screamed.  "Don't you understand?  Janet and I," she sobbed, "Janet and
I shared all the same lovers."  She paused for a ragged breath.  "How
can I make you understand?  See these rings?"  She ran her finger over
the arc of rings in one ear.  "Janet and I had this deal.  Everytime we
had a new guy, we'd put in a new pair of earrings, one ring for each of
us.  Now she's got AIDS, damn it, but I didn't run away from her, I ran
away from all of our lovers! Janet I could face, I couldn't face all the
guys!"

She was so different from me, but somehow over the months that followed,
we found that we had something in common.  We weren't the only straights
in the survivors of AIDS group, but maybe the fact that most of the group
was gay did help push us together.  The first thing we discovered we had
in common was an aversion to everything we associated with our encounter
with AIDS, and that included sex.

A few weeks after she joined our support group, we ended up walking out
to the parking lot together after a meeting.  It was January, but above
freezing, and after the recent cold spell, we both found it pleasantly
warm, enough so that we stood outside and chated a bit before we got in
our cars to drive home.

"By the way," I asked.  "I remember you said you did jewelry design; got
any of your work to show off?"

"Other than my earrings, Nope," she said, and then paused thoughtfully.
"It's funny, I used to like flashy jewelry, but since Janet got AIDS ...
well, I guess I've tried to avoid being flashy.  I guess I'm one of the
new puritans the minister talked about at the meeting.  It sure sounds
odd saying it, though, I mean, my self-image is about as far from that
as possible."

"I guess it's about the same with me," I said as I fished in my pocket
for my keys. "How come you still wear the earrings?"

She looked oddly at me for a moment before she answered.  "They're in
permanently; I'd have to cut them to get them out."

Can you call it dating when neither partner is interested in making any
sexual advances?  In March, a few months after Anne joined our survivors
support group, we started going out together.  I think we were both
using our relationship defensively; by staying together when we were in
social settings, we could were shield each other from sexual pressure.

I remember one night after we left a meeting of the survivors, Anne gave
a good summary of her feelings.  "You know, Jeff, there are times I wish
I could become a nun, I wish I could live in an isolated world where sex
didn't exist."

"Why not marry me?" I joked.

"What?" she said, stopping me on the street and staring at me.

"Like you said at the meeting," I said.  "You said you'd always thought
that marriage was a trap to be avoided, that marriage would mean the end
of your sexuality.  Wouldn't marriage be more fun than a convent?"

She smiled at me and chuckled.  "It probably would, but you're so ..."
She paused, her voice trailing off.  "Damn it, you're so straight that
I'm afraid I'd offend you."

I couldn't imagine what she meant by straight, but she didn't say more
until a few weeks later.  We'd gone out to a late movie after one of the
meetings of our support group, and as we walked back to the parking lot
where we'd left our cars, we talked.

"It's been a few months since I left Janet," Anne said, "and still, it's
hard for me to face it."

"You should call her up, talk to her," I suggested.

"It's not that," she said, chuckling.  "I've been phoning Janet once a
week for a while now.  What I can't do is imagine me living the rest of
my life monogamously or without sex."

"Don't take it so seriously," I said.  "You could always marry me."

Anne turned to me and took my hands in hers, something she'd never done
before.  "Look, you're nice, but do you really want to live with a girl
like me?"

I held her hands as I answered.  "Look, I didn't mean you to take me so
seriously.  What's so awful about you that you think I'd have a problem
with?"

She said she'd tell me later, but it was to be more than a month before
she said anything more.  By then, we sometimes ended up holding hands
when we walked together, and one of the guys at the support group had
joked as we left that evening that we looked like we were getting a bit
romantic with each other.  I jokingly suggested that we get married, and
although she knew I was teasing, she stopped me outside looked at me
with a serious look.

"Look, this teasing's got to stop."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you don't want to marry me."

"Why not?" I asked, realizing that I was serious.  "Really, why not.  I
think I really like you enough that I could live with you 'till death do
us part' if I had to."

"You don't want to do it!"

"Why?"

"OK," she said, sighing.  "I haven't been entirely open with you or with
the support group.  Yes, Janet and I were promiscuous, but there was
more to it than that."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She looked down at herself.  "I used to dress the part, I used to really
like seeing men react to my body, but now I'm scared.  I guess I've been
dressing pretty prudishly ever since Janet got AIDS, part of being a new
puritan, like the minister said at the meeting."

She paused to collect her thoughts before she continued.  "Janet and I
were roommates, you know, and we shared our men.  We made love together,
in the same bed, sometimes with one man and sometimes with more, and
sometimes just the two of us.  We made love to each other fairly often;
at first, we only did it when we shared a man, but it was fun enough
that we did it when we were alone together, although that wasn't often."

I could tell that there was real regret in her voice, that she'd really
enjoyed the lifestyle she was describing.  At the same time, I was a bit
shocked.  I knew that some of the gays in our support group had enjoyed
something of a similar lifestyle, but I had a hard time facing the fact
that someone I was attracted to was like that.  As a result, I stopped
my offers of marriage for a month or so, but by the time June arrived,
I'd come to face the fact that I liked Anne despite what she'd told me.

Anne always brushed me off the same way when I proposed marriage; she'd
always tell me that there was more about her that she didn't want me to
know for fear that it would end a pleasant friendship.

I asked her again today, July third, while we were on our way back from
the local clinic where we got our periodic HIV screenings; neither of us
had had any sexual contacts for six months, but we were scared enough by
our experiences to keep going back to the clinic every month.  On the
way out, we agreed to get together for a picnic dinner tomorrow, before
the fireworks on the fourth.  I made my usual proposal, half in jest but
half seriously, and Anne surprised me completely by answering yes.

She drove us immediately to the county courthouse.  I was still in a
daze as she marched us up to the clerk's office and rang the bell.  I'd
made my usual offer of marriage, but I hadn't expected her to accept on
the spot, and her fast followthrough left me reeling.  She filled out as
much of the form the clerk handed her as she could, then handed it to me
to fill out my part.

I'm not sure I fully realized what I was doing, but when the clerk asked
for medical lab reports certifying that we were free of the diseases the
state cares about, I felt a wave of relief as I realized that we hadn't
taken care of that formality.  I was wrong.  Anne answered the clerk's
request by pulling a form out of her purse.

It took me a while to realize that our paranoid visits to the clinic for
AIDS testing every month had included tests  for all the other diseases
the state might care about.  The form I had in my shirt pocket was more
than enough to satisfy the clerk.

"When's the wedding?" The clerk asked.

"How about now?" Anne replied.  "Is there anyone around here who can do
it?"

There was; a judge had some free time.  I went through the entire thing
in a daze, and then Anne drove me back to her place, not saying a word
until she let me out of the car.

"Well hubby," she said, holding the car door open for me, "come on up
and see what you've gotten yourself into."

"OK," I said, following her up the stairs.  We'd never seen each others'
rooms before, I'd never done more than hold her hands, and now we were
married.  I'd been serially monogamous all my adult life, but I'd always
checked out the wares, as the saying goes, before I moved in with any of
my previous lovers.

As Anne led me into her apartment, she gave me a brief tour.  The place
was a recently rehabbed loft over a bookstore.  There was one window, a
picture window looking out over the street; the rest of the light came
from skylights in the flat roof. It was a one-room apartment, but a big
one, with a kitchenette filling one of the back corners, modern bathroom
fixtures in another corner, and a large waterbed under the window.  Her
only other furnature was a large drafting table along one wall next to a
workbench cluttered with the tools of her jewelry making business.

"No wall around your bathroom?" I asked, surprised.

"They hadn't finished the place yet when they showed it to me, and they
cut the rent when I agreed to take it without internal walls.  Like it?"

She didn't give me a chance to answer her question.  She was facing me,
standing a few paces away, and with a swift gesture, she unzipped her
modest denim dress.  As she pulled the zipper down, my first impression
was that she didn't wear anything under it, but as she tossed the dress
on the floor, I saw that I was wrong; she wore jewelry.

She stood definatly in front of me with her feet apart and her hands on
her hips, and I just stared.  She had beautiful breasts,  big enough to
enjoy without being large enough to need support.  Large dark areolas
surrounded her large nipples, but I wasn't looking at them.  Well, I
was, but not in the way you might imagine.  I was looking at what she
wore on them, rings, a largish one on each breast, and it was obvious
that they passed right through each nipple.

When I finally looked down from her breasts, I saw that she also wore
rings in the hairless lips of her vagina.  Body-piercing jewelry was
something I'd heard of, but I'd never imagined that I'd find it in, my
God, my wife!

She finally spoke.  "I warned you!  You want me to explain?"

I nodded silently.

"Janet and I were running out of space in our ears when we made it with
this guy who was in the piercing business, and he suggested other places
for rings and helped us with them.  How do you like 'em?"

I finally found words.  "They're interesting to look at, but what about,
I mean, aren't they inconvenient?"

"You take your clothes off too," Anne scolded.  "I want to see what I've
gotten for myself."

I started undressing, still looking at the bizarre rings in her nipples 
and crotch.

"OK," she said as I undressed.  "I guess I owe you something.  They'd be
inconvenient if I were into pants or underwear, but I don't wear those."

My mind was still reeling as I undressed, but she didn't give me time to
catch my balance.  "Come on," she said, leading me to her, no, our bed.
"Let's do it.  I've been celebate for over six months now, and I was
fourteen the last time I went that long without a man.  I need you!"

I looked at her profile outlined against the bright window behind her as
she led me to the bed.  "Don't you want to shut the drapes?"

She smiled at me.  "I like to see what I'm doing, and besides," she said
turning to point out the window behind her, "who's there to see in?"

I looked; there was a park across the street, and unless someone climbed
a tree, we had privacy.  Even so,  I was uncomfortable as I turned back 
to Anne.  She stood in a patch of sunlight, and her rings sparkled, but
as I looked at the rings between her legs, I was puzzled.  "How do they
come out so we can make love?"

She chuckled as she looked down at me as I sat on the edge of the bed.
"They don't come out.  Remember, I was in the jewelry business.  Janet
and I welded all our rings.  They don't get in the way and I'd like it
if you played with them; I'll teach you how to use them to make things
more fun once you get used to me.  Come on!"

She was still standing in front of me as I sat on the bed, so I reached
out to touch her nipples and gently fingered the rings through them.  As
I touched them, I wondered how she'd managed to weld the rings without
burning herself.

Her nipples grew erect as I fingered the rings.  "Does this feel good?"
I asked.

"Yes," she said.  "If you want to kiss my nipples, take the ring in your
mouth and play with it with your tongue.  Don't be shy."

I wasn't ready for that yet, but I was curious about the rings between
her legs.  She lay on the bed in a patch of sun from a skylight and let
me look at them. "I hope I'm not making you feel too clinical," I said.
"Do you mind if I touch?"

Her voice was husky when she answered.  "I want you to touch!  Put your
thumbs through the rings, pull gently on them!"

I did. At first, I was merely expressing my curiosity, but as I noticed
the way Anne reacted to my touch, I began to get excited.  As I felt the
soft hairless skin between her legs, she reached out and held my penis,
and I could feel it growing as she held it and gently stroked it.

"Do you like oral sex?" Anne asked.

"I don't know," I said.  Most of my past lovers had been conventional in
their sexual interests, and the few times I'd had oral sex hadn't been
worth repeating.  "I don't think I'm ready to try it with you."

"Too bad," she said, sounding regretful.  "Kiss me!"

I did, kissing my way up her stomach from her pubic mound to her breasts
and nipples.  The rings in her nipples fit comfortably in my mouth, and
while I kissed her, she ran her hands through my hair and down my back.
It had been too long since I'd had a woman, and even with her strange
rings, the feel of her nipples in my mouth was heavenly.

I kissed my way up her throat and nibbled briefly at the fringe of rings
in her ear before kissing her lips.  Her tongue slid warmly between my
teeth, and the taste of our first kiss was heavenly.  She held my erect
penis in her hand and gently massaged it while while we locked our lips
together, and I used my free hand to play with the rings in her nipples
until she pulled my hand between her legs.

The rings between her legs were fascinating, but I didn't know what to
with them so I just slid my index finger between the rows and began to
massage.  She was soft and moist inside, and she thrust her hips gently
up against my hand in response to my touch.

I started to slide on top of her so I could enter her, but she pushed me
off.  "My way," she said, rolling me onto my back.  She squatted over me
and tickled the end of my erect penis with her rings, then reached down
and carefully threaded an index finger through each row of rings, using
the rings to spread the lips of her vagina as she slowly lowered herself
onto me.

"You'd use your thumbs to do it," she said as she pulled out her fingers
and sat down.

I could feel the rings against my crotch, but more than that, I felt the
wonderful softness of Anne engulfing my penis. She began to rock as she
sat on me, and the the sight of her sitting there in the bright sunlight
was almost too much for me.  The rings in her ears and nipples shone in
the light, and as the tension of orgasm approached, they sparkled as she
shivvered.

I was relaxed and content as she approached her first orgasm,  but as I
reached up to finger her nipple rings, she began to pump her hips and do
something I've never experienced before with the muscles inside her.  It
was too intense, she was too bright in the light, and I couldn't control
myself as I exploded inside her.  I think she had a second orgasm then,
but I couldn't tell.

She leaned over me and kissed me, still holding my penis inside her, and
we kissed for a long time before she sat up and began fondling my chest.
She looked down at where our pubic bones met, then looked up at my face
while I admired the sparkle of the rings in her ears and nipples.   She
saw my smile and the direction  of my glance and playfully wiggled her
hips, calling my attention to the rings pressed against the base of my
penis.

I could sense my penis trying tentatively to expand within her as she
smiled down at me.  Her voice was soft.  "I guess I'll have to get
another ring, I wonder where we'll put it?"

                                Rings II

I woke up on the morning of July 4 from a deliciously horny dream, only
to find that it wasn't a dream.  I was flat on my back, on the verge of
an orgasm, and my cock stood stiffly between my legs while my new wife
gently nibbled on it and teased it with her tongue.  Her long hair fell
over her head and tickled my stomach, and it wasn't hard for me to set
aside my misgivings about oral sex and enjoy what she was doing.

My hips had been gently pumping when I woke up, and I reached down to
run my fingers through her hair as I continued to thrust my cock at her
mouth.  I was ready to come, but she just teased me, keeping me on the
edge without letting me come.  My excitement was on the edge of turning
to pain when she stopped teasing.

She slid her mouth down over my cock, working it with her tongue as she
slid down, then gently blowing as she slid back up.  I was ready to
explode, but she managed to do it again three times, each time sliding
farther down the shaft of my cock before she came back up.

When I came, it was like nothing I've ever felt before, and it was a
while before I could do more than just lie there on my back and look at
my wife's head resting between my legs.  She continued to suck gently 
on my cock as it shrank, and she only let go when I asked her to.

"Good morning Anne," I said. "That was nice, but I've got to pee, can I
have my cock back?"

She let go of it and sat up, kneeling straddling my legs.  "Good morning
my new hubby.  I hope you slept as well as I did."

"I slept well," I said, looking at her and at the amazing collection of
rings she wore through her body.  She'd explained the 23 rings she wore
in each ear the day we met, but she'd managed to keep the ring she wore
in each tit and the six additional rings she wore in her cunt a secret
until yesterday when she surprised me by accepting my offer of marriage.

I knew she had far more experience with sex than I had; she'd had a ring
put in for each man she and her old roommate had seduced together.  She
hadn't seduced me though; before yesterday, we hadn't as much as kissed.
I'd been asking her to marry me almost daily for months; it had started
as a joke when we were attending a survivors of AIDS support group, but
I'd grown serious as time passed.  I'd almost given up, though, when she
surprised me by accepted my offer.

That was yesterday, July 3, and she'd shocked me by hauling me straight
to the courthouse, taking out a marriage license, and finding a judge to
marry us on the spot.  I'd found out about all her rings within an hour
of that.

"Do you always wake up your men that way?" I asked as I sat up.

"I try," she said, then giggled.  "A couple years ago, Janet and I tried
seeing how long we could go on a diet of nothing but semin.  It's pretty
nutritional, you know, but we gave up after a week."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I got up and went to the toilet to
pee.  Anne's loft, now our loft, had no walls, the toilet was in a back
corner, along with a sink, tub, and bidet.  They were expensive looking
fixtures; their matching red enamel contrasted elegantly with the white
plaster walls and hardwood floor, but the idea of peeing while my new
wife watched bothered me, and she did nothing to help.  She stood at the
sink and combed her hair while she watched.

She kept me at least part-way off balance for the rest of the day, but
in the end, that only added to the fun. She wouldn't let me get dressed
after breakfast, saying that she never bothered to wear anything around
the house.  She told me that as long as I was living with her, I'd have
to get used to it.

When I suggested that she call her old roommate Janet and tell about our
wedding, she did, but after a few minutes on the phone, she surprised me
by handing me the phone.  I knew that she and Janet were more than ex
roommates.  They'd been lovers and they'd been partners in love with many
men; as a result, I wasn't quite sure what I should say to Janet.

She certainly didn't share my unease.  I said hello, then asked how she
was.  As the words came out, I could have kicked myself.  I knew she had
AIDS, and I felt like a cad as I realized how awful it was to ask such a
question to someone who was terminally ill.  She answered politely that
she was doing about as well as could be expected, given her situation,
then got down to business.

"Anne told me lots about you over the past six months," she said.  "It's
hard as hell for me to imagine her getting married, but after I got AIDS
I guess we've both changed alot."

I wasn't sure what she was getting at.  I knew that she'd come down with
AIDS six month's ago, and I knew that Anne must have been exposed to it
at the time Janet caught it, since they'd made a game of openly sharing
all of their sexual partners.

While Janet talked, I watched Anne walk over to her workbench and begin
doing something.  She was pretty to watch from behind as she opened a
box on the bench and began looking through its contents.

"Look," she said.  "What I'm getting at is this.  I still love Anne, and
now that I can't make love to her and with her any more, I want to make
damn sure she has fun.  Tell her to quit this new puritan thing, she can
stick to one man for sex, but that doesn't mean she has to dress like a
nun.  Tell her to dress right, go out, have fun.  Give her the love she
needs," she paused.  "Want to know what really turns her on?"

"Tell me," I said.

"Oral sex, eat her, bring her to the edge and keep her there.  I've kept
her on the edge for hours, not letting her come until the very end.  Do
it to her, if it grosses you out, do it for me, please?"

"OK," I said, more out of politeness than commitment, and then she hung
up.  I didn't have time to think about what Janet had asked me to do
because at that point, Anne turned back to me from her workbench.

I'd been idly watching Anne's back while I was on the phone, but I
hadn't really paid any attention to what she was doing.  When she turned
around after I hung up, I couldn't ignore what she'd done.  Anne was a
jewelry designer, and now she was showing me some of her work.

"What?" I said, looking at her.  She had a large gold ring in her nose,
big enough to frame her mouth, she had a gold stud in the center of her
upper lip, additional rings in her tits, and something shiny filling her
belly button.  More jewelry hung between her legs, and there were even a
couple of rings through the webs between her fingers.

As she posed for me, I realized that I'd noticed some of her piercings
before, but I'd misinterpreted them.  I'd assumed that the hole in her
lip was a pimple scar, never imagining that it went all the way through.

"You should see yourself," she said, chuckling.  "I guess I owe you an
explanation, though.  Most of my jewelry is sold through what they call
alternate jewelry stores; some is very sexual, and most of it is
intended to be worn in very unconventional places.

As she spoke, I saw a flash from her mouth.  "What's in your mouth?"

She smiled, clearly exposing a silver bead set in her tongue.  "My
tongue tack started as more of a technical experiment than a serious
piece of jewelry, I wanted to see if I could make something I could wear
in the most sensitive part of my body without problems, and I did; like
it?"

"Yes," I said, somewhat surprised.

"Tell me if any of this other stuff grosses you out," she said, and then
began a guided tour.  I think that if she hadn't started my day with an
orgasm, I'd have wanted sex on the spot when she showed me the ring she
wore through a hole in her clit.  A small gold ball hung by a short
chain from the ring, and she said it had only one use, and that was to
intensify the sensations of lovemaking.

"You've got kinkier tastes than I credited you for," she said when she
was done.

I shook my head.  "I've got kinkier tastes than I credited me for!  Do
you really intend to go out in public wearing all that stuff?"

She chucklied.  "I have in the past, but I'll tone it down until you're
ready to play at shocking the teaming millions.  Come on, let's get
dressed so we can visit your place, but do me a big favor, don't wear
underpants, they just get in the way."

She'd told me that she never wore underwear, and with the rings in her
tits and cunt, I could see why; even so, I felt awkward about the idea
of my going without. The mention of getting dressed reminded me of what
Janet had said, though, so I passed on her advice. "Janet said I should
tell you to dress right from now on. No more new puritan stuff."

She'd told me that before Janet came down with AIDS, the two of them had
made a point of dressing to attract men, but it was another thing to see
what she meant.  She looked through her dresser while I hesitated about
putting on my pants without underwear, then turned so I could see as she
slid into a tight white spandex miniskirt.  It was hardly long enough to
cover her fanny, and when she knelt to put her sandals on, I could see a
sparkle below the hemline as the rings in her cunt came into view.

She ended up putting on a loose white camisole top over the skirt, and I
had to agree that she looked very sexy.  I was surprised that she didn't
look outright tacky; most explicitly sexy clothing I've seen is pretty
awful.  I told her that I felt awkward about what her clothing exposed
when she did anything but stand upright, and her effort at reassuring me
wasn't very reassuring.

"I know exactly what my clothing lets people see," she said.  "They see
what I want them to see."

Our day turned practical for a while, giving me a bit of a chance to get
used to my new situation.  We had to decide where to live now that we
were married.  After she'd taken off all the odd jewelry that showed
when she was dressed, I took her over to my apartment.  I'd never been
to her place before our wedding day, and this was her first visit to my
place.

"Not bad," she said, looking over my paperback collection.

She paused, looking critically at an Escher print hanging on my wall,
and I noticed that she was gently rocking her hips.  The motion was odd,
almost what I'd expect if she were making love.

"Why are you bobbing your hips like that?" I asked.

She turned to me with a sly smile.  "I'm masturbating," she said.

I began to get hard, even though I was confused.  "What?"

"Bouncing my clit chain against my skirt," she said.  "It feels good,
good enough that I can usually bring myself to orgasm that way if I keep
it up.  Want to make love?"

"OK," I said.  I was already rock hard as I led her to my bedroom.

She was out of her clothes before I'd unzipped my pants, and she didn't
seem to need any foreplay.  As soon as I pulled off my jeans and sat
down on the bed, she sat in my lap and and took me into herself.  I
leaned back on my bed, startled, and looked up at her in awe.

"Here," she said, looking down at me with a blissful look on her face
and fingering the chain that emerged from between us.  "Play with this,
gently."

I touched the fine chain tentatively, and then gently tugged on the bead
at the free end.  The other end was attached to her clit, and if the
bounce of the chain against her skirt was enough, I was pretty sure that
I wouldn't have to play very hard.

"Good," she breathed, and then began to sway as she sat on my hips.  "I
like that."

I scratched my fingernail along the chain, and she looked ecstatic.  I
could feel her vagina clamping on my cock.  I was fascinated by her
reaction.  I knew that women had clits, but I'd never had such direct
access to a woman's clit while I was making love.  The look on her face
was something I'd never seen before, and then she moaned, quietly and
deep in her throat.

She lifted her hands and began fingering the rings in her breasts, and
then moaned again.  I'd been so fascinated by her reaction that I'd been
ignoring the waves of contractions in her vagina, but as she continued
gently rocking on top of me, my attention was drawn to the sensation of
my cock deep inside her, and then I exploded.  Waves of contractions
coursed through my loins, lights flashed before my eyes, and I was in
heaven for one brief but wonderful moment.

"I love you," she said, smiling down at me as I recovered.

I couldn't say anything in reply.  She bent down to kiss me, letting the
rings in her tits drag briefly on my chest, and then she got off of me.
"We've got work to do," she said, "but first, hubby, let's eat lunch and
talk our way through what we're going to do with our lives."

We ate lunch in my apartment, and over lunch, we talked about the pros
and cons of our places.  Neither of us liked the apartment complex I'd
lived in for the last five years and her loft clearly had more space.
On the other hand, her loft wasn't conventional, with its lack of walls
around the bathroom area and its location above a bookstore in an old
business district, it was hard for me to imagine myself living there.

She talked me into it, though.  My last objection was that it would be
awkward to invite guests into a place with no private bathroom.  I gave
in when she asked how many guests I'd entertained in my apartment; I
realized I'd never invited anyone in but the girlfriends I'd lived with,
and the last of those had moved out more than a year ago when she began
to show AIDS symptoms; it turned out she'd gotten it from her previous
lover, and I was damned lucky to have come away uninfected.

We hauled two carloads of my stuff to her place, enough to let me live
comfortably for a few days while we decided what to do with the rest of
our stuff.  It was a hot day, though, so we called it quits after we
unloaded both of our cars at her place.

"It's a holiday," Anne said, sitting on her windowsill. "Let's go for a
swim, then eat that picnic dinner we were planning.  Isn't there a pool
at the park where the city's having the fireworks display?"

"Yes, but," I sputtered.  "Unless you take those rings out of your tits
and cunt, how can you wear a swimsuit?  You told me that you and Janet
welded your rings so they were permanent!"

She chuckled. "What I'm wearing now is legal in the pool, the skirt was
even sold as swimwear. I've got a swimsuit you'll like, though. Grab a
towel and your suit while I get mine, then let's pack up a picnic supper
and go."

We drove to the park, and as expected, had trouble finding a parking
space.  The locker room at the pool was busy, but my mind was on my new
wife as I changed; I hardly noticed the other people in the men's locker
room.  I did notice others out on the pool deck, though.  There'd been a
debate the previous summer about thong swimsuits at public pools, and
thongs had won out, but barely.  More than a few were in evidence, and I
enjoyed watching the bare flesh that was exposed as a result.

"How do you like it," Anne said from behind me.

I turned and looked.  She wore a white bikini; not particularly modest
but not unusually revealing.  There was no evidence of the rings in her
tits or between her legs.

"Wow," I said. "But where are your rings?  I thought they'd show."

"They do, a bit," Anne said, smiling. "Come on, let's swim."

She was a good swimmer, and we ended up swimming into the early evening.
I mean swimming, too, not just lounging in the water or "catching rays"
on the pool deck.  When the pool lights came on, we realized that we'd
been in the water for hours and that the fireworks would start soon.

We hurried to get dressed, tossed our wet towels in the car, and grabbed
our picnic supplies for a late dinner before the fireworks.  Fortunately
we hadn't brought anything that needed cooking, just a cooler of drinks
and sandwiches.  We found a good spot for a picnic under a lone oak tree
on top of a small hill.  It promised a good view of the fireworks while
being far enough away to avoid the worst of the crowd.

While we were swimming, Anne worked me hard enough to make me ignore her
rings and her apparently unlimited interest in sex, but as she bent over
to spread our picnic blanket and get a sandwich for herself, it hit me
again.  The hem of her tight white spandex skirt rose high enough that I
saw the bottoms of the rings between her legs and the gold bead at the
end of the chain from her clit, and when she leaned over the cooler, her
camisole fell away from her chest enough that I could clearly see the
rings in her tits.

While she ate, we sat cross legged on the blanket facing each other, and
she smiled when she noticed me looking at the exposed hardware between
her legs.  As she finished her sandwich, she leaned back on one hand and
took a sip of her drink, then shocked me by using her free hand to toy
with the gold bead that hung from her clit.

"Anne," I said, feeling my cock harden as I watched her. "We're in the
park surrounded by people, don't you care who sees what you're doing?
You could get arrested!"

She smiled coyly at me as she continued to tug at the bead.  "I care to
let you see; nobody else sees anything but a pretty girl who's relaxing
with one hand resting on her thigh; besides, it's almost dark enough
that I could take all my clothes off without anyone noticing."

Just then, the fireworks began.  While we packed up the remains of our
picnic, I wondered if she was seriously threatening to undress.  She
wasn't; she turned out to have other ideas.  I leaned my back against
the trunk of our oak tree, and she sat next to me and snuggled against
my side while we watched the show.

I held my arm around her, while she rested a hand on my thigh, and after
a few minutes, she put her free hand over mine and slid it up under her
camisole. It was nice holding my hand on the bare skin of her side, but
that wasn't what she wanted.  She nudged my hand up towards her tit and
slid her other hand up my thigh to fondle my cock.

I experimented tentatively with the ring in her tit, and she nuzzled my
neck gently and then whispered in my ear. "Unzip your pants."

I did, expecting her to slip a finger or two in to touch my cock.  She
had other ideas.  She shifted herself into my lap, leaned back against
my chest, and rested for a moment while she enjoyed the show.  It was a
good fireworks show, but she was better.  I played with her tits and the
rings she wore in them with both hands for a while while we both watched
the fireworks, and then she reached a hand between her legs and pulled
my cock free of my pants.

Somehow, she managed to slip it into her cunt before it was fully erect,
and then she started to squirm, very slowly and gently.  She leaned her
head on my shoulder and when there was a pause in the fireworks display,
she whispered. "Good?"

"Nice," I whispered, "but everyone can see us!"

She chuckled.  "They're watching the fireworks, silly; besides, there's
not much to see."

I continued to play with her tits while she gently squirmed, and despite
my misgivings, I was very excited.  My cock felt huge, and every move
Anne made sent a shiver of exquisite pleasure through me.  I was out of
control, unable to thrust or withdraw as she sat on me, but with every
thundering flash of the fireworks, I could feel her body vibrate against
my cock, exciting me even more.

As the fireworks reached their thundering finale, I came; the sensation
of Anne's cunt engulfing my cock was overwhelming, even more so than the
continuous stream of concussions from the fireworks.  I shuddered and
heaved under Anne, then collapsed back against the tree behind me.

My body was spent and my mind was reeling as I leaned against the tree
in the deafening silence after the fireworks finale.  People applauded
the show, and Anne joined them from my lap, then gently slid off my cock
and tucked it back into my pants before she stood up.

Anne stood over me, and I looked up and studied her by the light of the
distant streetlights.  I was flustered and a bit confused by what we'd
just done, but my new wife looked calm and happy.  She held out her hand
to help me up after I'd stared at her for a while, then picked up our
stuff and led me back to the car.

"That was great," she said as she unlocked the car, "but stop gawking at
me and zip up your pants."