Martha in America Ch. 08

"If I knew it were soup, I know I would just have to let it cool down and couldn't take it with me."

"And if it were a bundle?"

"It wouldn't fit in my suitcases."

"Nor anywhere I could hide it. It's ours."

Martha gave me another hug and an appreciative smile, and I hugged her, too.

"How big is it?" I asked.

She loosed herself and held her arms up, suggesting that she was holding a very large ball, as she grinned at me.

"That big? I thought so, about my feeling for its size."

We grinned at each other, and she still carried her imaginary bundle of love.

"It can't be too heavy, if it was just a soup plate full before."

"It is."

"Let me carry it then."

I raised my arms and took Martha's big bundle of love from her. She lowered her arms, and almost smirked as she asked:

"Heavy, isn't it?" I nodded.

"Don't drop it."

"I'd rather hold you."

"If you set it down - very gently - maybe we can roll it in front of us."

I set it down very gently, and we put our arms around each other with smiles and pretended that we were gently kicking it before us, earning a few bemused smiles from other people.

"Is it well wrapped, or will it wear down?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. I think a bundle of love is probably only wrapped in tissue paper."

"Logical, but not very good for the way we're treating it."

"Hm-umm. Be gentle, don't make it bounce."

Maybe it was the word "gentle," for whatever reason, I slid my hand down from Martha's shoulder and tickled her under her ribs. With a loud giggle, she squirmed out of my grasp, turning away from me as she laughed. She returned under my arm and put hers around my waist again. I grasped her hand before she could tickle me, her chuckle suggesting that she had been intending to. Then she looked more serious and asked:

"Where did it go?"

I glanced around and replied:

"It's over there, rolled off to the side of the walk."

"Oh, yes. It looks like kicking isn't good for it, nor tickling."

We pretended to push it back on the walk and continued to roll it before us, earning more bemused smiles from other people. Then a nice looking old lady asked us what we were doing, if we were playing soccer. Martha glanced at me, suggesting I reply.

"No, we have a big bundle of love, too heavy to carry, so we're rolling it home."

Martha nodded, and the lady smiled understandingly, glancing at each of us and said:

"That's nice. Be careful with it."

She smiled again, and Martha replied:

"We're trying to be."

She smiled again with a nod, and Martha very gently gave it a shove with her instep, and we moved on. We held each other closer, and Martha whispered:

"That was nice, that you told her."

"Um-hmm. We wanted someone to know."

"Very much. I'm afraid that replaces some that was lost when you tickled me."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good, just doesn't help our ..., help reduce our bundle."

"We're going to have to carry it across the avenue. Maybe we can pick it up and carry it now, before we have to tell more people about it."

"If you want to. Maybe it will shrink enough to put in your pocket until we get home."

I pretended to pick it up, holding it as though it were a heavy medicine ball. Martha chuckled at my miming, and again when I whispered:

"El Oh Vee Eee, please contract until we get home."

I moved my hands as though it were, finally holding just a golf ball between my fingers. Martha watched my hands and smiled and murmured:

"Thank you, El Oh Vee Eee."

Then she looked at me and held out her hand and said:

"I can carry it, keep it warm in my hand, better than your pocket."

"It's still heavy," I remarked as I pretended to hand it to her."

"Oooh, yes," she agreed, letting her hand sink under its weight.

We smiled and walked on, again with our arms around each other. Before it occurred to me, Martha murmured:

"I guess we shouldn't walk like this, chance being seen like this."

I nodded, and we released each other and walked on towards the museum in silence for a while. Then Martha chuckled and held up her cupped hand, cupped larger than to hold just a golf ball, and said:

"It's been squirming and getting bigger again."

"Mmmm! Maybe we should hurry, before it gets too big."

"Hm-hmm! Um-hmm."

We did, and I suggested that maybe I should hold it. Martha gave it to me. I snickered and whispered:

"About the size of your breast, ... nice - and warm and firm."

"Hmmm! Which?"

"Both."

"Both? Left and right?"

"Both our bundle and one of them."

We snickered with grins as we hurried on. Then Martha chuckled and remarked:

"If it keeps growing, it'll be as big as your sister's before we get home."

"Maybe as big as both of them together."

We chuckled again, and I opened my hand a little, and murmured:

"Almost, already," and moved my fingers as though I were holding a breast the size of my sister's.

"Hm-hmm! I don't know if that's good, having our bundle of love remind you of your sister's breast."

"It was your idea. ... Oh, we still don't know what to do with it."

"Um-hmm, ... unfortunately."

"Can you give any of it away?"

"If only, ... but it's also yours. Have to both give it away, ... and I'm not sure I can, ... not sure that would work."

"Maybe not, ... sort of like exchanging ideas, and then both persons have two instead of just one."

"Hmm? Something like that. ... And whom would we give it to? ... Hm-hmm! You give yours to someone, and I give mine to someone else; and then they have to find each other to share it?"

"Hm-hm-hmm! Sounds like a job for Cupid."

Martha laughed heartly in her nice warm tone and replied:

"Maybe we should just give it all back to him; I think he's to blame."

"Hmm! Very much so, sneaking around with his little arrows. You let him into the house sometime last week, and then he was just hiding, waiting for me."

"Probably. If he's still there, let's remember to thank him."

We smiled fondly at each other. By now, we had crossed the avenue and were closer to home. I remembered my growing bundle of love and held my hand up with my fingers widely spread. Martha smiled with a nod, and remarked:

"You may be right, as big as both of hers together," and chuckled.

I held up my other hand, moving them both as though splitting the bundle between them, then holding them as though there could be two breasts resting in them. Martha snickered again with a nod, and then looked more serious as she chuckled softly and said:

"Maybe we could give it to her. I guess she doesn't need your share; you both don't need any more, but you would know what to do with it."

"Nice thought, ... if you want to give your share away?"

"I have to."

Martha looked very serious for a few moments, and I did too, as we looked in each other's eyes. Then she tried to look more cheerful as she remarked:

"It will probably be a gift with strings attached, ... if you both don't mind."

"I'm sure we won't, especially if you tell her about it. It will be nice sharing it, knowing you can feel the strings twitch."

"Hmm, that's nice. I will - tell her and feel them."

We almost embraced on the street outside our building.

We almost did again in the elevator, after I gestured that our bundle had returned to its original size and gently set it down. We rolled it out of the elevator and to the door of our apartment. When I had unlocked the door, Martha rolled it in with more generous gesture. I don't know where it stopped; we were in each other's arms as soon as I had closed the door.

We just embraced, very tightly. Martha murmured:

"I don't know if that's going to help, but it was just wonderful, delightful, being able to share my bundle with you - our bundle - and talk about it. That's going to help a little."

"Help me, too. Guys aren't so good at talking about it."

"You were - just saying 'its our bundle'."

"Nice big bundle of El Oh Vee Eee wrapped in torn tissue."

"Um-hmm! But it didn't fall apart; we got it home."

"To give to my sister."

"Um-hmm. ... She'll like it."

"Um-hmm. ... Will she mind if it's even a little bigger?"

"Not if I can let it slop over a little."

"Hmm! If it wants to become a plate full of soup again?"

"It does. It doesn't like being a dry bundle; it really is a hot plate of soup, hot and wet."

"Hmm, then it can slop over, ... and tastes good."

"Very! Hot and wet and tastes good."

We kissed - hot and wet and tasting good - but not the taste we wanted.

It was too good to tell, and the soup slopped over generously - in all the similes each of us had, also in words, not just the last ones when we were lying in each other's arms:

"I just love you," Martha whispered, and I saw a tear in her eye as she added:

"You don't have to say it again, ... save it for your sister."

"Um-hmm, if you don't want me to."

I had tears in mine as I hugged her. She hugged me in return with a nod and then snorted softly and whispered:

"If you do, we won't be able to get our bundle out the door."

"We could leave it here and roll it in her room."

"Same problem, and we can't leave it in the living room."

We both tried to chuckle at our attempt to avoid letting the dish slop over even more.

"Let's take a nap," Martha suggested and rolled over. I curled up behind her and found her breast, and we dozed off.

I was awakened by Martha's holding my hand, that was still loosely cupped around her breast, and her murmuring:

"Hi. ... Maybe we shouldn't have done that again."

"Maybe not; sure didn't do anything to reduce the size of our bundle."

"Hm-umm. ... Mmmm, ... uh, ... would you be upset if I suggested that we shouldn't sleep together tonight?"

"Maybe a good idea. If you want to - don't want to."

"I do, probably even more this evening, but ..., you understand?"

"Um-hmm. Okay. Should make it easier to meet my parents, ... I hope."

"I hope so, too, but not only for that."

"I know."

Martha nodded with soft "thanks," and we got up and went to the bathroom. She used the toilet, while I waited, looking at each other with only an exchange of mild smiles. Then she started a shower by herself, while I used the toilet and then waited for her to finish her shower. I handed her her towel and waited for her to step out of the tub before I step into and closed the shower curtain again. She had left the bathroom when I was finished I collected my shaving gear and returned to my room and got dressed in fresh clothes, since my other ones were in her room. As I was putting on my shoes, Martha, also wearing fresh clothes, came in with mine - with my trousers and shoes - saying that she had put the others in the laundry.

We did risk having a beer together, but rather formally in glasses. Our "skaals" and glances at each other after we had drunk were reserved. Martha murmured:

"This is how it started." Only after I nodded, did she smile slightly.

Without discussing why, we agreed to go out for dinner, agreeing on a late dinner, late enough that we could just go to bed afterwards. I asked if she wanted to go back to the little Norwegian restaurant, but Martha preferred not to, which I could understand, also not wanting to be reminded of any situations from our week together. I said that I knew there were some other small European restaurants near 86th Street, and she said she thought that would be nice.

Since we still had a couple of hours till dinner, we lost ourselves in the newspaper, more accurately, at least for me, lost ourselves in our thoughts while attempting to read the paper.

Once, Martha asked if there was any news about Norway, and I found the section with international news for her. Later she asked about international weather reports, and I gave her the section with that. I tried to distract myself with the sports section, but mostly I was thinking about Martha, and also worrying about meeting my parents and driving home with them, anticipating be quizzed or lectured.

Once when my thoughts turned to Martha and me, I snorted when I wondered where our bundle of El Oh Vee Eee could be lying in the room. When Martha looked up questioningly, I said I had snorted about something in the paper. She didn't ask about what, luckily.

We decided to watch the evening news, again tacitly agreeing to stall for time. When Walter Cronkite had signed off with his "And that's the way it is," we set off. As we passed the doorman, I again worried about meeting my parents. On the street, we avoided holding hands. I still didn't have a specific restaurant in mind, and then thought of the German "Heidelberg," with its beer hall atmosphere, but then remembered that Norwegians could have a problem with something German. But when I suggested it, describing it and that it could be loud, Martha said that that might be good with a nod and smile, letting me think that she also felt distraction from having to make conversation in a quiet restaurant was a good idea.

It was. "Very German," she remarked, but the music and resulting loud talk limited our conversation. When she saw the menu and the portions, she grinned and said that if she ate all that, she would surely sleep well, but that was the only reference to the rest of the evening or to the preceding days and nights. Despite her comment - or because of it - and since we hadn't had lunch, we did have a generous meal and a large stein of beer, smiling at each other when I offer "Prost" instead of "Skaal." The waiters in lederhosen and waitresses in dirndls and the mixed crowd of local and visiting Germans and other guests, some obviously tourists to the city, gave us enough to chat about - if one can "chat" full volume. The desserts look enormous after our meal, so we had another stein of beer, prosting again, and snorting when we agreed: "to sleep on."

I told her that Yorktown had been a center of German settlement in New York. Martha already knew that, but she appreciated my keeping the conversation going. Finally, there was just a last swallow in our steins. As we raised them, Martha automatically said "skaal," and I responded, and we drank, looking at each other again.

"I guess I shouldn't have said that," she remarked, smiling apologetically as she set down her empty stein.

I nodded, also with a slight smile, and then paid. On the way back to our apartment, we managed not to hold hands, although we were feeling more comfortable than at the start of the evening. As we said goodnight to each other in the apartment, there was an uncomfortable moment, both of us apparently wondering if we would kiss, but we didn't and turned and went to our rooms.

It was strange to be lying in bed alone - for the first time in almost two weeks. I consoled myself with the thought that Martha was right that we shouldn't spend the night together, appreciating her strength of character to have suggested it. Then I was hoping that she was also right that our large dinner and two large beers would let us both sleep.

"Can I change my mind?" I heard her say softly, so softly that if I had been asleep I might not have heard her.

"Hmmm?"

"I can't sleep ... alone. ... I don't want to. ... Can I change my mind?"

I could just see her from the light through the window, standing at the door, and see that she had a nightgown on. I had gone to bed naked as usual, not just since sleeping with her and my sister.

"I couldn't either. If you want to."

"Thank you," she murmured and approached my bed, starting to gather up her nightgown.

"You can leave it on, if you want."

"Hm-umm," she responded softly and continued to gather it up, pulling it up over her head and dropping it as I held up the covers.

She crept in beside me, and I lowered the covers with my arm around her, feeling the warmth from her body before she moved closer to me and slid her arm over me.

"Mmmm," she sighed as we held each other closer.

"Um-hmmm," I sighed in agreement.

"You can tell them it was my fault. ... It was. ... That you didn't want to ..."

"But I did."

Martha rubbed my back affectionately, and then said:

"Maybe just to be a gentleman, ... not to refuse."

"Hmm! ... Hm-hmm! You can tell your mother that, ... not my parents."

"Tell my mother ... Hm-hmm! Pity."

"Um-hmm."

"Um-hmm. ..."

There was a longer pause as we just held each other. Then Martha murmured:

"I want to have you, ... just to feel you, ... to know you're in me."

"Hmmm? ... But not to make any more love?"

"Sounds funny - um-hmm - but something like that. ... Just to be as close as possible."

"Um-hmm. ... Like with the meatloaf?"

"Um-hmm. ..."

Martha slid her hand down my back and over my hip and then down between us and found my balls in my soft sack. She nodded as she fondled them and remarked softly:

"Nice, to feel you this way. ... Yes, like that."

She found my soft cock and murmured:

"I know, he can't stay like this, ... and maybe we can't - but ... And we think that is even more loving, ... but I want it, ... want to feel it again."

Her fingers were arousing him.

"Um-hmm," I agreed: "I want to, too. ... Maybe then we can fall asleep."

"That would be nice, very nice, like that."

"Um-hmm," I agreed with a nod.

As Martha aroused him, I found a rubber under my pillow. She murmured with a soft snort that we shouldn't need one if we wanted it to be like that, but when I slipped it into her hand, she put it on him. She let me urge her to lie on her back and to raise her thigh and then helped him find his way into her under her thigh. We both sighed with moans as he did, and again, as I moved to push him deeper into her pussy, getting my thigh over her far one, and then both of us drawing our thighs up to let him goes as deeply as possible.

"Ummm-hmmmm!" Martha moaned: "... like that," and her pussy squeezed him, and he surged in the clasp of her pussy.

We held still with nods, feeling pussy and cock respond to each other, and exchanged soft moans of acknowledgement.

"Just like that, ... don't move," Martha whispered, holding her thigh up to keep mine in place, and then holding mine down on her hip with her hand.

"Um-hmm. ... Uhmmm!" I agreed to her request and then to her pussy's squeezing him again."

"Uhmmmm," she responded to his surge, and again as her pussy held him:

"Uhmmm, yes, like that," Martha murmured, and I nodded with slight moan.

I pulled the covers up to our chins, and we exchanged moaning sighs in response to what was happening in her:

"Uhmm!"

"Uhm-hmm!"

"Uhm-mmmm!"

"Uhmm! Yes!"

Martha clutched my thigh and held it fast when it twitched, but her pussy clutched my cock, and it twitched again as I gasped slightly, and my cock surged in her, and she responded with an aroused "Uhnn!" After that happened a couple of more times, I murmured:

"If you don't stop, I'm going to have to come."

"I can't," and her pussy confirmed that, and when my cock surged again, she murmured:

"I want you to."

"And you, too."

"Uhnn! ... Yes!"

My hand slid down over her hair and found her clitoris, and she nodded with sigh and tighter hold on my thigh.

"Oooh! Oh!" she murmured as I began to arouse her more, and then her hips twitched as she clutched me again ... and again and again as I surged in her, trying to hold back my orgasm, but couldn't for long the way her pussy was responding, and she was gasping and moaning with increasingly aroused "Oh! Oh! ... Oooh! ... Oh! Oh! ... Oh! ..."

Then my hips twitched, despite her hold, and I started to come, and she let me move in her, her hand urging my thigh to move as I felt her pussy flood my balls, and she came, rocking her hips to meet my thrusts. With a final combined moan, we stilled, just gasping and sharing a few more moans. Martha's hand found mine and drew it up to her breast, and we just lay there.