Seeds of Evolution
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The L WordChapter 5: Evolution free porn video
awu
Fall 2012
After they actually registered, they, and every other student, headed for the bookstore. In the chaos, she saw a special cook book. Cook books are aimed at introducing pedestrian cooks to a more adventurous cuisine. This one introduced non-cooks to the basics. She tossed it on her stack; Dad would pay something for her moving in with Bret after all. When they got to the cash register line, Bret tried to pay for hers.
“No, Bret. We’ll talk later.”
“Look,” she said when they were back at the car -- and that was a long hike today, “Dad pays the tuition that isn’t covered by loan, housing -- and he isn’t paying housing this quarter -- and a check a month to cover food, clothes, and entertainment. At the start of the quarter, I get two months. I pay books and send him the receipt. Then I get back the amount I’ve spent on books but not the second month that I’ve already got. If you’d paid, then it wouldn’t have helped me; it would have helped them.”
“Well,” he began.
“No, Bret. Don’t go there. They tried to break us up. Don’t turn the other cheek like that.”
Jerry was in her second class on Monday. It should have been no surprise. They were history majors who had met in class. He smiled when he saw her and took the next seat. It wasn’t a lecture hall; it was a classroom with separate chairs. He didn’t shift his chair towards her, and she didn’t shift hers away.
“Mandy, what did I do?” he asked when the class was over. Well, she wasn’t going to drop the class, and Jerry sure wouldn’t.
“Have a class next hour?”
“No.”
“Well, I do,” she said, “and it’s far.” And it was the first day, which sometimes determined seating. She was meeting Bret there. “Walk with me.”
“So, what did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything.” For example, he had sent hardly any e-mails. She shouldn’t complain about that, though. She wanted to have met Bret. “It’s what I did. I moved on. I have a new guy.”
“Does he know about me?”
“Not you in particular. He knows he wasn’t my first.”
“Wasn’t your first?” he asked. “You sure moved fast.” Not particularly. From her first date with Jerry until the first time they’d slept together hadn’t been two months, let alone three. Then she thought.
“Maybe I did. We’re living together now.”
“Fast? You should get yourself checked out for whiplash.”
“No, Jerry,” she explained to him. “The real Mandy, and Mandy’s picture of Mandy, went from, ‘I used to have a steady named Jerry, but now I’m going to this dance stag,’ to moving in with Bret gradually, over stages, and over months. Your picture of Mandy went from, ‘There she is again; maybe we could start back up from where we were,’ to ‘She’s living with guy I never heard about,’ in the course of an hour. Your picture of me has whiplash. Maybe you do to. I’ve moved on at a reasonable rate.”
“I thought we had something.”
“We did, and it was fun. We never had anything permanent. A year from now, you’ll be doing grad work in the best school you can get into.” Jerry had already given up on continuing at the U of C, but he’d apply here and let them reject him. “I’ll be teaching high-school history in bum fuck Iowa.”
“We could go to the same place.” he suggested for the first time. Yeah! If she wanted to make that her first priority in deciding her whole future, and if she could get certificated in the state where he ended up, and if she could get a job close, then they could be together next year, And Mom thought Bret wasn’t making a sacrifice.
“Look, Jerry. We didn’t break up. We had a friendly parting of the ways when we saw that we would spend the summer in different states. I’d like to keep it that way. If not, I can dump you as publicly as you want.” He seemed to accept that. “Do me a favor. Don’t sit next to me in class.”
“It means nothing,” he said. “You sat next to Phil.”
“Yeah, and my relationship to Phil is the same as it was Spring Quarter. I’m a friendly asquaintance who has another guy as a steady.”
“Okay. I know when I’m not wanted. Guy have a name?”
“Bret ... Bret Donner.”
“Be careful when he feeds you dinner,” Jerry said and then sheered off towards the library. The Donner Party got caught in a blizzard in the early West. Some of those later to die ate some of the earlier ones. Every history major knew the story, and this wasn’t the first reference to it she’d heard. She gave Jerry a sick smile to match his sick joke.
She thought Jerry had sounded jealous, and she was oddly happy about that. She didn’t want him, but it was nice to think he had wanted her.
When she got to Sociology, Bret pulled his back pack off a seat, and she sat in it.
As classes got underway and organized their separate lives, Mandy and Bret organized their life together. She did almost all the cooking, he did all the laundry. He cleaned the bedroom and the bathroom. She cleaned the kitchen and the living room. After she’d made that determination, he told her that the vacuum, a canister type, had wheels that seldom worked; he carried it from place to place, often while using the other hand on the tube. He would do the vacuuming.
Even with that adjustment, she was probably doing more housework than he was. On the other hand, he hadn’t pushed her into it. Even though cleaning the kitchen was more work than cleaning the bathroom, she didn’t particularly want to clean the bathroom.
They had lunch together in a dining hall Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after the Sociology lecture. Monday and Friday, they had a Sociology discussion section in the late afternoon, and then went home together. Wednesday, Bret drove her home and went back for his Math class. She bought her own lunch Tuesdays and Thursdays. She went home and cooked lunch Saturdays.
He drove, dropped her off and parked, got the car and picked her up, on days when they both went on campus. Thursdays, he dropped her off so he could use the car to take the laundry to be washed. She drove Tuesdays and Saturdays.
She discovered that when she wasn’t eating lunch with him, Bret ate ramen, rice, and leftovers, apparently all in the same bowl. She found the saucepan, a bowl, and the spoon in the dish drainer at night. Whether vegetables were included in the soup bowl depended on the left-over vegetable.
She washed dishes every night, and he dried. That was his choice, and she’d considered it an odd one for a guy who had never owned a dish towel. The first night they followed the rule, though, she had her hands immersed in dish water when he’d stroked up her butt. Still, she didn’t really dislike being groped by Bret, whatever she said,
Saturday night was their night out. She enjoyed the dance or play, but found them less exciting. They had been a sort of extended foreplay, leading to his apartment and his bed. Now, they were something that they were doing instead of going directly to bed.
When she got together with Sharon and Candace, that was on her mind.
“So,” Candace asked, “regretting your change?”
“Not in the least. I liked you guys, still do, but you never did for me what Bret does.”
“Don’t swing that way,” Sharon said. “What surprised you about the move?”
“The most surprising? You know, we get plenty of sex, and that’s no surprise. I’m not sure Bret’s ever seen me go to sleep without an orgasm. Still, there is a lot less sexuality than there used to be.”
“The woman talks in paradoxes,” Candace said.
“It’s not a paradox. Maybe it is. Until I moved in, I hadn’t had breakfast with Bret which wasn’t leading up to going back to bed and mussing up the sheets. We talked about other things, but I -- at least -- was always thinking about what was coming next.”
“Bret is a guy,” Sharon said, “however exceptional you think he is. He was definitely thinking about mussing up the sheets.”
“Well, he is exceptional. He’s just not exceptional in that way. Now, except for Sundays, what follows breakfast for me is class, and our discussion is apt to be, ‘Where did you leave the car last night?’”
“You know,” Candace said, “Every guy I know would welcome me into his bed.”
“Not Bret.”
“Not Bret, not others in committed relationships, or gays, or religious fanatics -- a good many, though. More than half would prefer me to the roommates they have. I don’t know one guy who would let me drive his car.”
“Yeah,” Mandy agreed. “Bret really wanted me to move in with him. When he wants something, I can tell. But he didn’t say, ‘Move in with me, and I’ll let you drive my car.’ He just said, ‘Here are your keys.’ It was less than that. He gave me my set of keys to the apartment, and the car keys were on the same ring.”
“You can tell what he wants?” Sharon asked. “He’s no longer the man of mystery?”
“He’s still a man of mystery. The thing is that I really think that if I could actually articulate the question, and he could really understand the question I asked, he would give me an honest answer. Then, of course, I’d have to understand the answer. Remember his description of his game?”
One thing that Mandy hadn’t considered, obvious as it was, is that sleeping in the same bed with a man meant sleeping with him during her period. The last night before, she warned him.
“I won’t be available for the next few days, Bret. You probably should come in me tonight.” He didn’t always, though he always brought her to climax. When they were spending only weekends together, Bret had come at least three times in three days -- in closer to 40 hours, really. She had thought that 7 times a week would be the equivalent. He didn’t come nearly that often.
“No mouth,” she warned when he kissed down towards his favorite spot. She hadn’t begun, or else she wouldn’t have wanted him in her, but the consequences of an accident were different. Still, he kissed her nipples and stroked her until her hunger for him grew acute.
When she pushed his hand away and reached towards his groin, he moved between her legs. He kissed each nipple again, and then moved up the bed over. His fingers parted her; her hand guided him.
“Mandy,” he said, “oh love!” Thrust deep into her, he cupped her breasts. The strokes began, and her heat rose.
She slid her hands down his back from his shoulders to his butt. She widened her legs and pulled him against her. She was nearly there, and she thrust up to get more of him when next he drove down.
He pinched her nipples, and she went over. The fire flared through her and shook her.
“Mandy!” He thrust hard into her, and buried his pulsing cock in her depths.
He fell to her side and lay there gasping. A little later, he pulled her against him and curled around her. She lay surrounded by his arms and legs for a bit. When he relaxed, she went into the john. She wiped him off her thighs and butt and inserted the Tampax before curling up against him in bed.
The weather had been turning cool, and they already kept a blanket on the bed. She put her baby-doll into the wash, and got out one of her winter nighties. If she was off-limits for the next five days, it would be cruel to tempt him.
The next night, she almost said something, but Bret wouldn’t forget something about that subject. Bret got into bed, but didn’t switch off the lamp. He kissed her deeply. While the kiss was repeated, she felt him fumbling around next to her. She thought she smelled Vaseline. Then his hand stoked downward, pulled her nightie upward, and settled on her thigh. Something cool and slippery inserted itself between her labia.
“Bret, no” she whispered into his mouth. She tightened her legs together, but that only pressed her labia against his questing finger. It felt like he flicked the thread out of the way. Then he was stroking her clit.
“Bret, you can’t ... I can’t.”
“Why not? This is nowhere near the blood. You’ll enjoy it, and I’ll certainly enjoy it.” The reason why not was so obvious that she couldn’t articulate it before her body began betraying her. The heat built; she wriggled; the relentless finger kept stroking her.
The heat flooded her, and she couldn’t argue, or even think. She stiffened. “Yes, love,” he said. “Yes, Amanda. You’re nearly there.” He was telling her? She could feel the fire nearly burning her belly. “Yes, Darling ... Come for me.” As if in answer to his plea, the fire burst out and shook her.
“Yes, darling,” he said as she convulsed. “Oh, you’re so lovely. Gorgeous! Such a sexy woman.” She shook so hard that she escaped the maddening finger. Slowly, she relaxed.
Her breathing was nearly even when it intruded again. “Lovely girl, sexy woman. Do you think you could do it again?” Certainly not so soon, but the finger was right there, and Bret knew her awfully well. The friction resumed; the heat built again. The lamp was shining right in her eyes, and it no longer seemed dim.
She was staring straight into her face. The heat built in her face and in her gut.
“Yes, darling,” Bret crooned. “You can do it. You’re so sweet, you’re so sexy. Give me another. Please, Amanda. I’ll love you forever for just one more.” The finger left her for a moment, and she could see him dip it into a small jar of Vaseline. Then it returned, smoother yet and cooler, to her clit where a fire was smoldering.
“Yes!” he said as the fire burst forth. “Oh, you’re so good, so sexy. Yes, Mandy, yes my love, yes.” The last S trailed off into a hiss as she convulsed. His finger went a millimeter off her clit and rubbed her labia while she shook.
He kissed her forehead as she gasped for breath. “That was wonderful,” he murmured. “You were so grand; you are so grand. Do you think you could go for three?” Was that three this week, he meant? Instead, his finger was rubbing her again. The fire had flooded her and flowed out, but the heat was barely reduced. She’d been chilly when she went to bed, but she was sweating profusely now.
“Oh, yes, dear,” he said. The heat built, and the fire burst forth. She convulsed again.
“No!” she cried. She pushed his arm away as she shook. The arm pressed towards her, and she turned away from him.
“You don’t have to,” he said. He turned off the light and cuddled around her. “It’s just that it’s so beautiful. You’re so beautiful, but you’re finest and loveliest when you’re coming.”
When she stopped gasping, or maybe earlier, she fell asleep. Sometime in the night, she crawled out of his arms, relieved herself in the john, and changed her Tampax. When she showered in the morning, she found some smears of Vaseline on her breasts. She felt marvelous, though.
He drove her to school and dropped her off before cruising for a parking space. She thought, kissing him goodbye before leaving the car, that if he said that he loved her then she would respond in kind. He said only good bye, though. He loved her climaxes, not all of her.
That afternoon was her time alone in the house for the week. She used the time to clean the living room and mop the kitchen floor. Then she studied at her desk. The phone came on, which always startled her. It never rang first.
“This is the home of Amanda Waters and Bret Donner,” it now said. “Leave your number and a clear message. If you’re not selling something, we might get back to you.” She couldn’t figure why Bret mentioned her, let alone put her name first. She wasn’t going to give anyone this number.
A man’s voice recited a number with an area code she didn’t recognize. Then, “After seven o’clock, eight Central. And who is Amanda Waters?”
She mentioned the call to Bret, and he listened. He called the number soon after nine.
“Hey, Flutterby,” he said when it was answered. “Leave it! It’s my dime, Let him stew and tell me about your life.” There was a long pause while he listened. “Tell him to send me a friend request if he wants ... Now, I’m going to sound just like the Australopithecines, but just take it slow. Maybe he is the one for your life, and if so, he’ll be around next year ... Yeah, I said that. Well, I do. Likewise.
“She’s my girl,” he said in a rougher tone a moment later, “She’s preparing to teach History, not as socially useful as putting up one more mcmansion, but much more than designing mere electronic entertainment, and what business is it of yours?” A long pause when she guessed that he was listening. “Yeah, Thanks for telling me.” He hung up.
“Look,” she said then. “If you were describing me as your girl...”
“Who else?”
“Then I prefer the term ‘woman.’”
“Well, you’re certainly a woman, but you’re my girl. Being my woman would require a hell of a lot more commitment than one year.” Of course, she had made all the commitment he had asked of her, but she didn’t point that out.
That night, when he reached for the Vaseline, she stopped his arm. “Please, Mandy,” he said.
“Only once.”
“Only once; I promise.” She moved the thread down between her butt cheeks herself. Then she released his arm. It was fine. If the sensations didn’t match his mouth, or even his cock, it was a great release. She’d gone back to guys who’d given her less. He said nice things about her; she thought nice things about him; he turned off the lamp; she cuddled back against him in the spoon. Then she had a thought.
“You kept the lamp on.” Except for their first time, when the light came indirectly from the living room, their early times had been in lamplight or daylight. As they became more accustomed to each other, they’d more often made love in the dark.
“You’re so lovely like that.”
“I was covered.” He might sometimes guess her shape covered by the sheet, but his arm had been holding the sheet off her torso.
“Your face expresses your climax delightfully.” He wiped his hand on his own hip and hugged her with his hand on her breast. She hugged his arm and thought.
Bret was a strange guy, and they had a strange relationship. Well, ‘strange guy’ was an oxymoron. Still, even for a guy, Bret was strange. And the relationship was even stranger. Bret paid all the rent, provided the transportation, paid the bills -- he’d offered to pay her bill in the bookstore before she explained that Dad paid it, and he’d already known that she was mad at Mom and Dad. If she did more of the housework, she’d made the assignments. Mom and Dad would say that Bret got sex for that, but she got sex. In her period, when they couldn’t have sex, she got sex. She got oral sex, and he didn’t.
Mom said that Mandy loved him. Well, Mom had said it first, and she had seen that it was true. Mom thought that Mandy loved Bret and Bret was exploiting Mandy. If some stranger knew all the details -- and Mandy would undergo torture to keep some of these secret, like the last hour and the previous night -- that stranger would think she was exploiting him.
Bret asked so often and offered so seldom. Reported like that, it sounded selfish. Really though, Bret asked for things that others would have seen as offers. He all but begged her to climax on his hand. He gave without offering, like his car, like doing the vacuuming.
Jane/Carol had given him a blow job because her cheating boy friend wanted one, and Mandy hadn’t given him one. She’d given Dave, and then Jerry blow jobs because they’d gone down on her, and fair was fair. Well, she’d never given Bret a blow job, and there was no comparison between his talent at cunnilingus and theirs. She and Bret had a special relationship, and there shouldn’t be anything someone else had done for him that she hadn’t, and nothing that she’d done for anyone else that she hadn’t done for him.
Before bed the next night, she put a glass of water and a paper towel on the night stand.
“Should we have one of those on your side, too?” Bret asked when he came in. “Should we move it to your side.”
“I can reach it. Besides, the paper is for you. One time only?”
“I promise. And I should have thought of the towel.” He never thought of using paper towels. Bret was a tightwad. He was generous with her, but he never thought of spending money or using disposable things.
She had her nightie rucked up under the sheets. They both knew where this was going, though Bret didn’t know how far. Still Bret started at the beginning. He kissed her deeply, stroked her thighs.
“Are these tender?” he asked when he touched her breast. He was the only man who didn’t need to be told that they weren’t foam rubber.
“A little.” He stroked one, and then he licked the other. It was a long time before his tongue reached her nipple.
He broke to put Vaseline on his finger. Then he stroked her and licked her nipples. She felt the heat rising, and he moved up to renew the kiss on her mouth. She stiffened, and she could tell she was close.
Apparently, he could, too. He moved back and stared at her. The sheet was down; her nightie was up; most of her torso was open to his eyes.
“Yes, Mandy, yes, darling. Let it come.” It was coming, if not so soon as he seemed to think. Then, she caught her breath. The heat flared.
The fire raced through her, and she quivered. He grinned. When next she shook, he removed his hand. He moved the sheet lower still and gazed at her mound.
She relaxed. He covered her and wiped his finger carefully on the towel.
“Thank you,” he said as he got under the covers and hugged her.
“Thank YOU. You’re the nicest guy as well as the sexiest one.”
“You’re the sexy one.”
“I think,” she said, “that we’re both talking about the same orgasms. I don’t have so many orgasms because I’m especially sexy. I have them because of you. Remember when you apologized because I only came twice?”
“Well, twice is fine. It was the time you didn’t that I was talking about.”
“I said another woman had a problem and would look at that as a great session. Well, I never had a problem, but I would have gone away from that session saying, “Goody! I came twice,” before I met you. It wasn’t your finest hour, but that’s because you’re you. It would have been the finest hour for plenty of guys.”
She pushed him down and knelt between his legs. He couldn’t have mistaken her intent, and his cock quivered and leaked a drop of precum.
“Mandy,” he said, “you don’t have to do this.” And, from his point of view, she didn’t. This was the first time she’d ever had a man lying before her. Jerry, and Dave before him, had stood while she knelt and took them into her mouth.
“That’s why I have to.” She bent over, wrapped her hand around him, and brought her lips to him. The precum tasted awful, even worse than it usually did. Some of the bad taste echoed the asparagus that they’d had last night. He was big, and she had to force her mouth around the crown. She pushed down, knowing that the taste would be less when he was further in.
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