Martha in America Ch. 04

"... that surveyed renaissance and baroque art and found ... what you were looking for: Boucher and Fragonard, as you can see."

[Interested readers will have to find the images themselves to see how my sister said she had looked at that age.]

I looked at the cards more closely. Yes, indeed, the girls really did have breasts like my sister had said hers had been. I nodded with a smile. Martha smiled too and remarked:

"I thought so. There was a drawing by Boucher in the book that was even better - she really looked younger, a nymph, but a little too plump, but her breasts were nice 'half grapefruits'."

She held her hand up and demonstrated their size.

"Maybe" I replied, and we both chuckled, and then again as I held my hand up as though I were holding a breast and moved my fingers as though I were squeezing it, and then I turned my hand slightly and moved my thumb as though it had found the nipple.

Martha snorted sharply, and I realized that what I had done could have been interpreted as a suggestion - an invitation, the suggestive something I had been wondering about on the way home. Martha snorted again with a smile and said softly:

"You did that real good," and sighed and then took a deep breath, raising her breasts.

I held my fingers a little closer - about the size of her breast - and moved them again as I looked at Martha. She smiled slightly with a brief, deep chuckle and an "um-hmm."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, and still holding my hand like that, put in on her breast, and it fit.

"Just right," she murmured and smiled at me with another soft chuckle as I moved my fingers a little and squeezed her.

"Um-hmm," she agreed again, but then added as I squeezed her again:

"Don't wrinkle my blouse," and then she snickered and grinned as she added:

"So my mother won't know," and we both snickered.

"Is that what you tell them?"

Martha just snorted with a little smile. I asked then:

"And what do they do then?"

She grinned and snorted again and replied:

"The first one, the first time - I think I really meant it - stopped. That was no good, ... except for my blouse."

I snickered, and she did too, and then continued:

"But the next time, ... or maybe it was the next one, understood that it was only the blouse that I was worried about."

I almost laughed and replied facetiously:

"Oh, I understand. You didn't mind them holding your breast."

Martha almost laughed too and nodded.

"Like this," I suggested and started to unbutton her blouse.

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a chuckle.

"Oooh! Really?" I replied in feigned surprise, and then pretended that I was talking to myself:

"Oooh, she's letting me go this far; I wonder how much further? Does she expect me to take off her bra, too? Do I dare? I need the rest of my beer."

Martha was snickering the whole time, and we quickly finished our beers, and, of course, she did want me to take off her bra. But first we rescued her blouse from any further wrinkles, but then there were no hesitations as we helped each other take off the rest of our clothes, she chuckling as she took my socks off and remarked with a snicker:

"Funny, that was good. I liked that, wondering all day what would happen when we got home."

"Me too, ... hoping it would end - or start - like this, somehow."

Martha snickered again and agreed:

"It had to, since we both wanted it to. Just a question of how."

We were standing looking at each other.

"And now? I asked.

She grinned as she looked me up and down, but then sighed and looked back down at him, and one hand moved to her pussy, not to conceal it, as her other hand found her aroused nipple, squeezing it, suddenly reminding me of statues of Venus/Aphrodite. Then our eyes met again, and we exchanged slight smiles, and then she answered softly:

"Like this morning."

I nodded, and then we embraced and kissed, and I was wondering about getting a rubber, but then she murmured:

"I put two in the table drawer."

I nodded and kissed her again, and then we went to the kitchen and I drew out the chair and sat down, and she sat down astraddle me again.

Soon he was back in her, but I couldn't be as sure as in the morning how long he could be trusted, and then we had a rubber on him, and then he was back in her, and for a long time we tried just to enjoy that, tried not to do too much, but then her feet were up on the chair by myi hips, and we just had to, no longer able to restrain ourselves - especially me - but then she also started to come with her little "oh-ohs" - so less vocal than my sister, but just as aroused - her pussy clutching and moving on him as her love juice spurted, and he wanted to come again, but didn't, but that was fine with me, thinking that he would surely have another opportunity.

She was resting against me in my arms, her head on my shoulder, her feet back off the chair. Finally she raised it, and then squeezed him again with her pussy, making him slip out. She snorted softly and then gave me a kiss and chuckled and murmured:

"It wouldn't be quite true to say that I was thinking all day about finishing this morning, but sort of."

"Hm-hmm! Not all the time, ... me too, ... but wondering if we would."

"We did," she replied with a grin: "... real good, worth waiting for."

"Um-hmm, ... and now I want another beer," Martha nodded and added:

"And then I want a shower."

"Me too, with you," I agreed, and we both chuckled.

We got up, and I took off the rubber, wondering if she would want it, but she was already getting the beers. She snickered when she saw me put it on the table next to the pieces of the foil and then handed me a can. As we opened them, she glanced at them again and snorted and said:

"That would make an interesting still life," and then looked back at me and said "Skaal."

I snorted too as I responded, and then suggested a title:

"The Proof of his Pleasure."

"And of hers. But your suggestion is good enough."

We drank again, and then I sat back down, and she sat across my lap as I put my hand on her hip and she, her arm around my shoulders. While we drank our beers, I told her about the sculptures my sister and I had found in the museum and our discussion of their merits, and Martha laughed at my quoting my sister's: "That's me, the all-American girl," and telling about her feigned disappointment that she had too much to be an artist's model for a classical statue and be immortalized in marble.

When I had finished, Martha chuckled with a mischievous smile and asked:

"And how are mine," with a glance down at them.

"As if you didn't know after today, ... and you know I'm going to say that I like them."

"Hm-hmm! Um-hmm, but I'd still like to hear it."

I let her hold my beer and held one, knowing my hand would be cool from the beer.

"Oooh! Hm-hmm! I guess I knew you'd do that, too. And?"

"They really are as nice as any on classical statues or paintings of Venus or Aphrodite, and the best thing is that their yours, here where I can enjoy them."

I fondled them, arousing her nipples, and she responded with an appreciative little "mmm" and nodded and replied:

"Um-hmm, and let me enjoy them, that you do that way. ... Hmm! Hmm? If you like nice, well-developed nudes, you should find works by Anders Zorn. He's Swedish, but he really liked to paint nudes, and nice ones, not hesitating to show their hair. Pity I didn't think about him in the museum; could have found a picture for you."

[When recalling our conversation, I found images of lovely nudes by Anders Zorn, and a painting by Pelligrini of "Venus and Eros" for which my sister could have been the model.]

We finished our beers. She took mine and got up and disposed of them while I went in the living room, thinking to get the other cans, and then saw our clothes and collected them and the cans and returned to the kitchen. She took them from me and put them in the bin, and then with a snicker picked up the pieces of our still life, and we went back to her bedroom.

By then, I really had to go to the bathroom, and found myself hoping that Martha did too, even though she had gone before - yes, I wanted to do that again, both ways. I handed her her blouse and skirt as I said:

"I've got to go," and dropped our shoes and dumped the rest of our things on her bed. She glanced at me with a smirk as she finished hanging her blouse on the chair and asked: "Again?" and smirked.

"Yeah, I want them to know that this female is mine, ... and want the females to know that she wants them to know that I'm hers."

Martha snickered with a smile and nod as she agreed:

"Oh, she does, wants him to, ..."

She paused for another snicker and apparently to choose her words before she added:

"... to do it all over again."

With this confirmation of our intentions we hurried into her bathroom as I said:

"He can't wait too long," and she immediately knelt down in the tub, looking up at me in anticipation as I stepped into it, closing her eyes for a moment, as though she were waiting to feel it on her face.

But first she felt it on her chest and then on her breasts and down between her thighs, and then her eyes were closed again, and she felt it rise up to her neck and then over her chin, splashing all over her face, and her tongue slipped out from between her lips, licking for a moment, and then she opened her mouth, and when it found it and it was no longer splashing, she opened her eyes, looking up at me as it overflowed from her mouth, and then for a moment it was splashing again as she closed her lips, and then they were open again, until I directed it back down on her breast and finally finished.

Martha just snorted and licked her lips with a wry grin as she stood up, again sliding her hands up from her hips to her breasts as she snorted again and then said:

"You really want them to know that you want to do it again."

"That much."

"And I want them to know with whom," she replied, and snorted as she watched me sit down with my legs between hers.

"Me, too," I agreed, smirking up at her.

She nodded slightly and then closed her eyes as she relaxed. When it started, all warm on my chest, she opened her eyes again and looked down at me, snorting once, and then rocking her hips a little, but of course, she couldn't move her stream much. I lowered my face into it, letting it play on both sides briefly before I turned my face up to it and caught it in my mouth, all warm and inoffensive tasting, moving my face towards her pussy as I held her ass, and she spread her knees when she understood that I wanted to have my mouth right on it, snorting again, giving a last pulse to it as it petered out to a dribble and stopped, as my tongue lapped over where it had been flowing and she held my head to her for a few moments and let us both enjoy what I was doing.

Then she urged me to get up, still holding my head as I did, and then looked at me with a snort and another wry smile and murmured:

"We like anything - everything. 'Smussig,' ... what's the English word for that? Wanting to do something like that?"

"Um-hmm," I agreed and smiled as I slid my hands up to her still wet breasts:

"... 'smussig?' ... probably that's 'smutty,' but 'raunchy' is probably the word I would use: something sexy, but a little beyond the normal."

Martha nodded with a smile in agreement as I thought to explain it better:

"Smutty is dirty, a derogatory word. Raunchy is just something others might not want to do."

Martha nodded again with a grin and agreed:

"Yeah, that's it - 'raunchy.' I had heard it somewhere, but didn't know what it meant."