Feels Like the First Time (2 page)

He followed a moment later, pulsing in her, filling her again with his hot sperm. 

* * *

Even at his most passionate moments, he'd been gentler than
the fish was.  He'd been more protective of the baby.  He'd really been more protective than he'd needed to be.  And, when Des was being born, he'd sweated bullets.  She'd never asked whether he'd been worrying about Des or about her.  Probably, knowing her husband, about both.
 

He should see this, though.  The
fish was carrying the eggs in his mouth.  John would enjoy seeing another protective parent.

- = -

Des figured out that Pat and Mike were doing it.  She wished
she hadn't called her mom.  She'd thought that she'd moved Mike into Pat's tank too soon and that he was fighting.  They were called fighting fish -- all the articles warned against
moving the female in too soon.  Still, there wasn't any way to
tear her eyes away.  They were doing it.  She just wanted to
watch them by herself.  Wasn't her mom embarrassed?  And then, when it couldn't possibly get worse, it did.

"John," her mom called, "you have to see this!"

- = -

He found his family watching the fish, watching another family apparently.  One fish squeezed the eggs out of the other and then carried them up to the nursery.  Then he -- fairly clearly it was he -- did it again.  They were starting a family with three of
another species looking on.  Still, they should be used to the
audience, if they could see them.  Des spent hours watching them.

And the worst way to start a family felt pretty good.  He could remember.
* * *

The cast party was uproariously happy.  Fitting in had been his hardest role, much harder than he'd had on stage.  Angela had offered them a ride to Kim's place. 

Prof. Drake stopped him on the way out.  "Wonderful performance, John," he said.  "Can't I persuade you to change majors?"

"Professor, I'm a junio
r."  And what role would he get as a theater arts major the next year?  They weren't going to do "The Emperor Jones."
 

Angela dropped Dave and Annette off first.  "Thanks, Angela," Dave said.  "Forgive me?"
 

"Not till after the last performance.  But you were a great
Iago."  He and Kim murmured agreement.
 

"And you were a wonderful Desdemona," Kim said as the doors closed behind the couple.
 

"Thanks, Kim.  But we know who
was the star of the evening."
 

For some reason that comment, kindly intended from a friend, broke the facade he had maintained throughout the party.  "A triumph," he said, "of typecasting.  Did you hear Drake?  I wouldn't have even been considered if they had had a black male in theater arts."
 

"There's Desmond," Kim said.
 

"Desmond," Angela said before he could, "is not an Othello."
 

"Look," Kim said, "casting is one thing.  But the fact is that your performance was a triumph tonight.  You worked hard; you did well; I was proud of you."
 

"I'm glad," he said, not even trying to sound glad.
 

"Now, kids," Angela said, "
be good.  This is a night for celebration, not for argument."  She laughed.  "Be good. And if you can't be good, be careful.  And if you can't be careful...."
 

"We'll name it after you," Kim had finished.

Not that they had been anywhere close to that.  (But, back then, they had hidden where they stopped from their friends even more carefully than they had hidden what they did from their parents.)
"Kimberly," he gasped.  She kissed him, and then the car was stopped at the door to her apartment house.
 

Melissa was gone; she and Kim had some sort of arrangement.  He kissed Kim for a while in the tiny living room.  Soon, they moved into her bedroom.  He unzipped her dress while kissing her deeply.  She moved away to hang up the dress and slip.  He took the opportunity to slip off his shoes, putting the socks inside them next to the bedroom door.  She took her shoes and pantyhose off as well.  He had to bend even further to kiss her like that.

"I got two playbills this evening," she said.  The play had been a university production -- theater arts hadn't owned it.  And the
University maintained a print shop. 

Two playbills on one ticket wasn't been that much cheating.  "I think that I will send one to my mom." 

And the playbill had included an excellent (if small) photo of him.
 

"How you communicate with your parents is your decision."  Indeed, it was her issue.  She wanted his race not to matter, but it did -- it had for every minute of his life.  It would matter to her parents.  Well, the photo would take care of that.
 

Then she lay down, and that was much more comfortable.  He kissed all over her face, then her neck -- carefully avoiding suck marks. 
When he kissed down her chest, she raised herself so he could reach her bra strap.  Her breasts were so white, and the nipples so pink.  He arched over her, kissing them while she unbuttoned his shirt.  After he'd thrown the shirt and tee-shirt towards the back of a chair, they shared the longest kiss.  Tongue met tongue; skin met skin; his clothed legs pressed between her naked ones.

After he gave her breasts two quick kisses, she raised her bottom while he pulled her panties down.  The hair down there was lighter than the hair on her head.  The sight was still delightful each time, the feel more so. 

He rested on his left arm so that his mouth could move from breast to breast while his fingers were busy between her legs.  "Oh, John," she gasped while pulling his hand against her even more firmly.  He pulled back when she released him.  Then he kissed the smooth whiteness of her breasts while she got her breath back.

When it was her turn -- or maybe his turn, she stripped him and hung his trousers on the back of a chair and tossed his shorts onto the seat.  She stopped, though, with him in her hand.  The feeling was exquisite, but he knew he wasn't going to get off with her holding still.
 

"Do you think," she said, "
like Angela said, we could...?  Could we be careful?"
 

"Oh, darling," he said.  He scrambled to get the wallet from his trousers and the condom he had kept there for months from the wallet.

* * *

And darling she'd been, and darl
ing she still was.  He reached out a hand to caress her bottom.  Still watching the fish, she reached back and removed his hand.  She held it in hers.  Well, he'd take what he could get.  He squeezed the hand, and she squeezed back.  Des, presumably oblivious to her parents, was staring raptly into the fish tank.  She should be oblivious to her parents' squeezing hands; she was totally oblivious to their orders.  The male now swam back to the female and squeezed her again.  In sympathy, John squeezed Kim's hand.  He got a squeeze back, which was more than the fish got.

Still, Kim had always been demonstrative.

* * *

When he got the condom on, he started to kiss her breasts again.  He intended to get her excited all over again before attempting entry.  She, however, broke them apart to kiss him deeply.  Then she lay back with her legs spread apart.  While he wondered whether that meant what it seemed to mean, she reached over to gasp him. 
 

"Now, John," she said "now!"
 

"Kimberly, darling Kimberly," he said, climbing between her legs.  She placed him at the spot and pulled.  He pressed forward, but it didn't go in.  He pressed harder.
 

"Do it," she said and clawed his bottom with her other hand.  Suddenly, he passed whatever block there had been.  Even through the rubber, he felt her heat.  She was incredibly there, all around him.
 

When he was fully in her, pressed against her mound, he stopped.  "Are you all right?" he asked.  She didn't look all right.  Inches from his face, hers was screwed up in a grimace.
 

"Go, on," she'd said.  And he did.  The first withdrawal produced friction sweeter than any he had ever given himself, sweeter even than her hands had given him. 

Then he pushed forward again, pushed through slippery tightness, pushed into his love.  Soon he sped up; the tension driving him in and out at an ever faster pace.  Then he thrust into her harder than even
the first stroke.  He erupted into her warmth, and shot and shot.
 

"Oh, darling," he said minutes later.  He gathered enough energy to kiss her and withdraw.  He fell onto his back beside her.  His eyes turned to the center of his sensation.

His cock was naked, except for his juices and a ring of rubber around the base.  "Oh, Kim!" he said.
 

She obviously was looking at the same place.  "Next time," she said, "I take care of the precautions."
 

His head was a mishmash of contradictory emotions.  He'd done it; he'd goofed; he felt wonderfully drained; he felt awfully guilty; he loved her; she'd said "next time"!

* * *

The fish spat out an egg towards the nest.  He squeezed Kim's hand again.  The buzzer sounded; somebody was at the door.  While he went to answer it, Des dived for her shoes.  Justin was downstairs, and his father was in the car.

"It's Justin," he called.  "Shall I ask him up to watch your fish?"  The kids would be late; Justin's father would have to park the car, not so easy in this neighborhood.  Still this was an event.

- = -

"Daddy!"  How could her dad think she'd invite a boy up to
watch her fish having sex.  She'd long ago learned that her parents were clueless, but that clueless?

"Breakfast!" said her mom.  Food was her first priority.
 

"Skip it."  They would be late.

"I'll make you a sandwich."
She'd take it.  It was faster than arguing.  Actually, she knew, she'd eat it.  Her mom gave her two meatloaf sandwiches as she got to the door.  They were in a freezer bag, and they were cut in halves.  Her mom would cut sandwiches if the house was on fire.  Still, it would make sharing with Justin easier.

"Thanks, mom," she said.  "Can you put Mike back in her tank?  Bye, dad."

"Love you," they both called as she ran down the stairs.

- = -

John listened carefully until he heard the door at the foot of
the stairs click.  Then he closed and locked the apartment door. 

"And I love you, too."  He kissed Kim deeply, exploring the
familiar mouth with his tongue.  He pulled her against him by that lovely bottom .  Then, for good measure, he moved his hands up her sides to her breasts.

"Got to move the fish," said Kim after pulling away.  "And
then I have to shower.  Des will be gone for hours, we can take our time."

"I don't mind taking our time.  I just want to kiss my wife." He did again.  Kim, despite her words, cooperated in the kiss.  This time her hands were on his bottom; her tongue licked his.  She broke away, though. He followed her back to Des's room.

"Now," she said, "which one is Mike?"

"The male, probably.  'Pat' can be either gender."  Of course,
telling the sexes apart isn't easy with fish.  One of them darted at the other.  Kim netted the escapee with the small tool that Des used for that purpose.  In seconds, she had returned it to its own tank.  She headed for their room and the bathroom beyond it.

He headed down the hall to the kitchen.  Real French toast was a treat.  He could mix up the coating now and heat up the pan whenever they wanted to eat.

- = -

She took her time in the shower.  She put jelly on the diaphragm and inserted it.  Once again, she was thankful that they had taken an apartment with two baths.  She could store what she wanted in this medicine cabinet without worrying about explaining it to Des.