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And this time she really did respond, nodding her head slightly as she sucked and her tongue moved a little differently, and then she was really sucking a cock – no thumb sucking – sucking and exploring with her tongue, making him surge, and this time I let my hips move him, and she nodded with an “uhn-hnnnn” and a squeeze on my balls that couldn’t be in a dream, I thought. And then he was moving gently – like the night before – and her fingers were grasping my tight scrotum, rubbing and stretching the skin, grasping and pulling at it as she sucked and licked my cock, making him want to come while her fingers were trying to delay my orgasm.
And I wanted it both ways: to come, but somehow to prolong the wonderful anticipation before I did, before I had to, but then I couldn’t help myself; I had to, had to let my hips thrust him quickly in and out her mouth, and she nodded, humming on him as she sucked harder, as though she wanted him to now, and he did, and she did, sighing with short moans as he came in her mouth – “all that white stuff” – and again and again!
God, it had been good! And she was still sucking, but I slipped my hand under the sheet and held her head, and she nodded and let her mouth and tongue still, just holding him, as I wondered what she had been dreaming.
After a minute or two – at least it seemed that long – she licked him again as her hand slid up and held him, and then she rolled her head back a little and took him from her mouth, kissing him once, and then chuckling as she laid him down on me. Then she chuckled again under the sheet and then pulled it back and rolled over and looked at me with a smile and snort as I raised my head.
Since she seemed to want to stay lying like that on me, I pushed us both up towards the headboard with my feet so that I could rest my head against it.
“Hm-hmm,” she snorted again with another little chuckle as she made herself comfortable, and then smiled and said:
“That was real good, thank you,” and then she snickered: I was dreaming, … before …”
I nodded with a smile.
“I guess you noticed,” she went on:
“… Oh, that was funny. When I noticed that you had rolled over, I rolled over and went back to sleep. And then when you were lying on your back, half asleep, I wanted to rest my head on you. You’re a real good pillow,” and she smiled again:
“… and sort of unconsciously held you – like last night.
“But then I fell asleep again and was dreaming. That was funny: I was all naked, but that didn’t seem to matter – to me or anybody else. Oh, we were in a police station, … yes, like in that film Sunday night – a police detective story – and they were interviewing me … Funny, knowing I was naked, but that didn’t seem to be noticed by the cops in uniforms. One was a woman – I guess, there because I was a girl – but she wasn’t noticing either. They wanted me to identify a man, in a ‘line up’, you know, where the suspect is shown with other men.”
Martha snorted with a smirk before she continue:
“And they were all my old boyfriends, the ones I had slept with; through a window, you know, a half mirror, so they couldn’t see me in the darkened room with the others, the policemen, who seemed to think that I could identify the one who had done something with a younger girl. Oh, they had shown me a photo, but I didn’t recognize her – attractive – so I was wondering how I should identify one of them for having done it.”
Martha smiled at me, apparently liking the story of her dream – she knew how it continued. And I smiled back, intrigued, but had an inkling that the girl was my sister, … that Martha had suppressed recognition of her in the dream. She went on:
“And I – all naked, but apparently not upset by that – but wondering how I should know which one had done it, and then said something about having to see them naked.”
She snorted with a smirk and said:
“It didn’t seem strange in the dream – just now, telling you – and didn’t for the others either, and apparently not for the men – my old boyfriends – who were then suddenly naked, but the senior officer, who came into the room at that moment – that happened in the film – did. Oh, he looked like your father!”
Martha looked surprised at this discovery, and I probably did, too, it fitted in too well with my idea that the girl had been my sister, and now that her dream was a subconscious effort to work out what she knew.
“I didn’t recognize that in the dream,” Martha said softly, but then went on:
“Maybe he didn’t. Anyway – dreams are strange, … this one, especially – I found myself saying that I had to do it them. … Hmm! Like I did. You must have been expecting that that happened, somehow.”
I just nodded, too involved in the apparent background of her dream to grin. She continued: “But that didn’t seem strange in the dream. Oh, this was all in Norway, in Norwegian. But I didn’t understand, myself, how that was going to help me identify the right one, … but somehow it seemed to make sense, bahis firmaları – in the dream – and then I was with them, with the female police officer, about to start with the first one. … They were lined up in chronological order, and she asked: ‘You don’t have to do it to all of them, do you?’ I replied: ‘Ju da.’ We say that in reply to a negatively phrased question, here: that I did have to.”
Martha smirked at me, and I smiled this time and nodded again, not wanting to interrupt her story by telling that she had spoken in her sleep.
“I was still wondering why, myself, and wondering why she had asked: if she were shocked or envious that I wanted to. … Oh, she reminded me of your older sister. … And then as I started, I realized that I wanted to compare them all with the American one that I somehow connected with the young girl; that I was thinking I could identify it, or this way, confirm that none of theirs was that one.”
This time, I had to interrupt her, snorting and saying:
“Sounds more like an excuse for wanting to do to them all. And everyone was still watching?”
Martha grinned and nodded, and then shook her head as she went on:
“Maybe. No, the others just sort of disappeared then, but I guess the whole dream was a way for me to get to do it to all of them, you’re right. Somehow, I was thinking I could skip the couple I shouldn’t have slept with. … Should I have slept with the others?” … And then I was thinking that I only needed to do it to the first one. Oh, of course, I had never done it to any of them. I guess by then I was almost awake, sort of knew I was really doing it and that the dream was only a dream, that the others couldn’t be there, just the one I was doing it to. And then I heard him speak English – still in my dream – and began to know that I was doing it to you, but still wanting it to be part of the dream, not wanting the dream to finish.”
I nodded and agreed:
“Yeah, I know, dreams can be like that.”
Martha nodded with a quick smile and immediately continued:
“Yeah, I wanted that, still with the police story in my mind, knowing I had found the one that belonged to the story about the girl. … Sorry.” And then – I guess to finish the dream – I was thinking that if you did it real good for me, I wouldn’t tell anyone that it was you, and then I was awake, wanting to do it real good for you, so that you would – for me – and you did.”
“I sure did, thank you. You sure did,” … It was real good, and your dream was too.”
Martha nodded with a grin as I continued:
“Sorry that you didn’t get to do it to all of them, but I guess the dream wasn’t really about that.”
Martha nodded again with an understanding little smile of agreement:
“Yes, I guess not. That came out in the telling, not during the dream. I hope you don’t mind. If I had thought of that before, I wouldn’t have told you …”
“Or you wouldn’t have remembered it,” I interjected.
She nodded, and then snorted with a grin and said:
“But I fixed everything in the end, with your help.”
I nodded, and she snickered and added:
“And they say, if you tell a dream before breakfast, it will come true. … I ‘fixed’ that part, so maybe the part about my old friends will still come true.”
She sat up, looking down at me as we both chuckled, but then I pointed out that she hadn’t really done it to them in the dream, and she looked a little disappointed for a moment as she nodded, but then smiled and said:
“But I wanted to, had them all lined up.”
We both laughed, and then she continued with a grin:
“Maybe, when I see them, I can tell them that I dreamt about them – that way – and we can make up for not having done it before.”
We both snickered again at this suggestion, and I said:
“If you dare to tell them, I’m sure they will … cooperate.”
Martha laughed, so much that her breasts moved, making me want to hold one, and I did. Then she looked down at me with a more serious expression, as though maybe she wanted me to do it to her, not aroused, but as though my touching her had suggested that we could, that I could.
Her nipples stiffened as I fondled her breast, and she nodded slightly, and I softly said:
“You wanted me to do it real good for you.”
“Um-hmm,” she agreed, nodding again.
I began to slide down the bed as I said:
“And I want to, if you won’t tell anyone, … not even as a dream.”
A smile passed over her lips as she nodded, and followed my hands’ urging her to kneel astride me as I moved even further down the bed.
“But only if you do it real, … very, very good,” she remarked as she smiled down at me.
Then, maybe because in the position we were in, it was unclear how I wanted to do it “very, very good” for her, she added:
“My pussy can still remember how good we did it last night.”
I nodded again, urging her to move up over my mouth, and she nodded as though she appreciated that I had understood kaçak iddaa what she meant, and then her pussy was over my mouth, and I was trying to do make real good for her, “very, very good.”
It’s easy, when you love to do it; and even easier, when she knows what she wants and knows how to show you – doesn’t hesitate to – and Martha didn’t! . . . It was that good!
When she had relaxed again, she slid her hips back and stroked my wet cheeks with both her hands, chuckling, and then snickered and said:
“I don’t know how far along on the calendar we are, but it doesn’t matter. We can’t make up for lost time … – Hmm! – … lost times, … just do it as much as we can.”
I nodded again, returning her smile, and agreed:
“And it sure seems like we do, … and – I hope – better than …”
I broke off my sentence for lack of the right words to finish it.
“Oh yes,” Martha agreed, smiling just briefly at me: “…much better, thanks. I should have said that. … But right now I have to go. I felt like I had to before, but you kind of distracted me.”
She smiled more broadly down at me before she started to get up.
She didn’t wait for me as I followed her to the bathroom in morning light, stepping immediately into the tub and after a moment “going”, facing the corner. I stepped in behind her and put my hand on her hip.
“Hi, good morning,” she said with a chuckle as she glanced around at me.
“To you, too,” I responded and stood closer to her, sliding my hand down around her hip as my other one slipped under her arm and held her breast.
She chuckled again as my hand slid down into her stream, and hers held it there, letting it wet both our hands, and making me feel even more that I had to go, too.
“Wait, … if you can. I want to hold it.”
“Umm-hmm,” I agreed, and she held my hand against her pussy, letting me feel the last of it on my fingers just where I had been been tasting her sweet love juice a couple of minutes before.
As soon as she finished, she turned around, drawing my hand up to her mouth and licking my palm as her other hand found my cock, snickering as I nodded with chuckle, and then I started to go, and she chuckled again as she directed it against herself, against her pussy, and then stepping back, looked down and watched as she played at directing it around and higher, catching it with her other hand against her stomach and sliding it up to her breast, then quickly doing that again as it started to die down. With a snicker, she tried to shake it, and then held her other hand up for me to lick, and I did, holding her wrist and licking her palm and fingers, and then I stooped down and licked her breast, arousing her nipple as I tasted it on her.
“Um-hmm,” she murmured appreciatively and held it up to me with her hand, as she added:
“You are really being really bad for me.”
“And loving it,” I agreed as I stood back up.
“Me, too,” she replied with a smile, still holding my cock, but sliding her other hand around my waist as she looked up at me.
We kissed, at first more licking around each other’s mouth, and then in them, and I wondered if she wanted to feel him move. But if she did, he disappointed her, and then we stopped, and she turned around and turned on the shower.
While I shaved, Martha started to dry herself, chuckling once, but she didn’t say anything, and I wondered if she was recalling her dream again, but she could have been just chuckling about us, maybe about how we enjoyed being raunchy – how much we enjoyed being raunchy.
“Breakfast?” she asked. “Bacon and eggs,” I replied, and she agreed with a cheerful “okay” and went off. It was still so early that I when I had finished shaving, I joined her in the kitchen without getting dressed. She gave me an appreciative glance and smile, and then I set the table while she finished making the coffee and eggs. I was thinking about her dream again, wondering what my big sister had to do with, and being glad my mother hadn’t been involved – or was my sister a substitute for her? Not likely: asking if Martha really had to do it to all of them, and I snorted at the recollection of Martha’s telling – “had them all lined up.”
She noticed my snorted and glanced at me quizzically.
“‘Had them all lined up,’ I was thinking about your dream,” I explained. She grinned with a nod, and I added:
“I was wondering what my other sister had to do with it.”
Martha glance back at me again with a smile and replied:
“I don’t know. I’ve only met her a couple of times. Maybe just being a big sister. My girlfriends told me that eldest sisters could sometimes act like they thought they were … ‘policing’, … trying to keep their younger siblings out of trouble. “
That sure hadn’t been my older sister’s attitude, wanting the younger one’s first time to be good, better than hers had been.
Martha served her bacon and eggs, glancing at me with a look that suggested she was still thinking about what we had said. kaçak bahis Then we sat down, and she smiled as she poured the coffee and commented:
“Yes, I guess my dream sort of …”
She looked at me with a wry expression as though she wanted me to agree and finish her sentence.
“Um-hmm,” I nodded: “… sorted of … tried to include everything.”
“Um-hmm,” she agreed as I wondered at my neutral definition of our affair and all we had talked about.
“Um-hmm,” she repeated with a nod and the briefest little smile: “… everything. … I still don’t …, still understand …, you know, … your sister. But I guess, … I still had …, couldn’t avoid …” and she left her sentence unfinished again.
“Me either. Better than not avoiding it. Nice that you tried to resolve ‘everything’ in your dream. Thanks.”
Martha nodded with another little smile and I remarked:
“At least you didn’t have your brother in the line-up.”
Martha snorted and almost laughed, maybe a little nervous relief; it was for me – that she had – and then with a smile agreed:
“Yes, he was all that was missing, … just as well.”
We started eating, and I was relieved that we had seemed to settle the subject that way.
After a few bites, she glanced up at me and then murmured:
“Sorry. I just had to talk about it,” and glanced at me again.
“Hm-umm, … I’m glad you did, … that you said what you did, … and, in a way, that … you dreamt about it, … that way. … It’s better so.”
Martha took another bite, nodding, and then looked up at me with a slight smile and nodded again, and I found myself thinking what my sister had said: “I just love you for that!”
As I was trying to think of something else to talk about, the phone rang. It could only be my family, and I jumped up to answer it, suddenly very aware that I was naked as I hurried to the living room, feeling my cock and balls moving, usually a nice sensation, but now embarrassing, even more so when my mother answered:
“Oh good. You’re still there.”
Then she explained that they had considered that Martha could spend the next week on Fire Island with my sister, “sort of as a vacation for her before she went home,” and as a favor to my sister, who wanted to stay there, and then she dropped her voice and explained that, of course, she couldn’t stay there alone. I asked first if they were having a nice time. My mother said that they had, and then I thought to ask if I should ask Martha if she wanted to, remembering to pronounce her name the way my mother did.
“Of course,” she replied: “… You could drive out on Sunday and come back with us, and one of us – no, two, for the other car – could pick them up the following weekend.”
“Just a minute,” I replied, and went back to the kitchen to avoid speaking so my mother could hear, and asked Martha. She grinned and agreed immediately, and I returned to the phone and told my mother, who really seemed pleased, and then gave me greetings from the others and said they would call in the evening.
I was no longer embarrassed about my nakedness as I returned to the kitchen, pleased with this solution. Martha looked pleased, too, her nipples standing out as she smiled at me and said:
“Oh, that’s nice of them,” and then in a different tone:
“… and will make things easier. I was wondering how it would be ….”
I nodded with a smile and agreed:
“Me, too. We don’t have much experience to fall back on, if you know what I mean.”
She nodded with mild smile and replied:
“Yes, we hardly talked the few times you were here in the winter.”
Then she smirked and added:
“Maybe just as well. My mother’s warning was almost a suggestion,” and we both snickered.
As I started eating again, I wondered if Martha had been thinking about the possibility all winter, feeling a little bad that it hadn’t occurred to me – if she had been. And she probably had been, from what she had just said and the fact that she had only had the one opportunity with the Norwegian officer – and immediately taken it – and immediately taken the first one with me on Sunday evening. Anyway ….
“Um-hmm, … I didn’t need my dad’s look as a suggestion,” I said, picking up on her last remark and assuaging my conscience for not having taken proper notice of her during the winter. She gave me a nice smile in response, while I snorted at the inappropriateness of my “assuaging my conscience” and “taking proper notice” in that context.
“What are we going to do this evening,” she asked, changing the subject.
“Finish your meatloaf,” I replied, to which she nodded:
“… and then something you can write home about.”
She snickered and asked:
“And what’s that?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, and then suggested:
“Maybe you can go out with Helga again?”
“You really want me to?” she asked, looking surprised.
“No, I replied, letting her look relieved:
“… but it would be something you could write home about, … and me too, so to speak.” Martha grinned then, but replied:
“She has a boyfriend. Friday night, they go out, … or whatever,” and she smirked.
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