According to my wife I snore. That was why I frequently found her asleep on the couch. She says it is worse when I sleep on my back. She blames me for mornings, after nights out, when she can’t sleep past five in the morning because I wake her up. It made waking up, the sun streaming in the window, my wife’s head resting in the nook of my shoulder strange. I liked it. I didn’t want to move. I think I coughed but maybe I just twitched or something but it was enough to signal to her that I was awake.
I hate to admit this but I love Saturday mornings when Jennifer has her exercise class and she is up and out the door usually before I am even through a first cup of coffee. It leaves the rest of my morning to make a giant breakfast for my son and sit down with him to get some idea of what is going on in his life. I wondered how early it was. As much as I wanted to get up and put the two cheap steaks I had bought in a skillet with some butter I wasn’t ready to let go of Jennifer. She was still naked. I could feel her bare hip in my hand. I stroked her gently. She responded by running her fingers over my belly.
I tried to decide if I was hung over. I didn’t recall drinking that much the night before but one – we were drinking wine, and two – I was distracted. I was trying to count the glasses when her fingers that had been tracing circles on my belly moved lower and she was gently running them up and down my cock. I had woken up with an erection. The fact that I could still wake up with a hard cock told my doctor I couldn’t get a prescription for the little blue pills yet.
“It’s always gigantic in the mornings,” she whispered to me. “I don’t know why I don’t take advantage of it more.” I gripped her hip firmly.
We kissed with closed mouths, most likely a nod to morning breath. I don’t smell much of anything. I am sensitive to cooking foods and gasoline but otherwise my sense of smell isn’t worth much. I don’t mind. More things stink than smell pretty. Jennifer moved her body on top of mine.
“We should close the door.” I said.
“Shh.” She responded. She had to press her hand between us to hold me in place. Minimal foreplay made it difficult to get inside of her but we managed.
She rocked on top of my silently and I laid watching her in wonder.
Jennifer’s breasts are large. She had used them to seduce me from the start. I took each of them in a hand and wrapped them up. She pushed my hands away. She didn’t open her eyes she just whispered at me. “Shh. Just watch.” I moved my hands to her hips.
She rolled her head from side to side. She was stretching like a cat after a nap. She moved on to her arms. She extended them in one of her yoga poses over her head arching her back for greater extension. She looked up at the sky. I am sure there is a name for it but I had only done yoga with her a couple times. Her hips stopped rocking as she leaned first to one side and then the other. Her large breasts swayed gracefully. When she reached the apex of each maneuver she held it until her muscles began to twitch.
“I like this.” I whispered.
“Shhh.”
She leaned forward over me, her breasts grazed my chest, her hair fell in my face. She arched her back forward and held it, then backwards. In cat my cock moved further inside of her, in cow it pulled back, nearly out, and I could feel the muscles teasing just the head for a moment before she rocked back into cat sliding me inside again.
“Don’t move.” She whispered. She smiled at me.
She moved her legs forward an inch or so and then began a long slow movement backwards. My cock stayed inside of her and she kept going back further and further. My mind imagined that pulling my cock back and down like that would be impossible or worse, painful. It was neither. She was still lowering herself. I had to crane my neck to see and when I did I was granted a view of little other than her folded legs and her soft welcoming pussy, my cock still inside of her if only barely.
“Ow – Ow – Ow.” She said. She was close. “Ahhhh. There.” She whispered. Her back was flat against my extended legs. This was new. “Whatever you do, don’t move.” She whispered, a touch of giggle in her voice. Of course that meant I had to. I tried to move as little as possible. I moved my right arm. I laid my hand gently on the mound of her pubis, I think that’s what it’s called. I moved my thumb. I placed it gently within the folds of skin she had exposed to me. It was evil, how could I not.
She gasped at first and then started a low hum that turned into a moan. I moved only the end of my thumb, the thickest part applying slight pressure in gentle circles.
“You.” Breath “Are an.” Breath. “Evil.” Breath. “Man.”
I struggled not to move my thumb faster. I worked diligently to keep the same pace and her moans became more guttural, “Ung. Ung. Ung.” in time with my touch.
“Ahhhhhhhhrrrrrfffffff.” She cried out finally. I moved my hand away. I saw no reason for anyone to get hurt.
She was still for only a moment and then her hands shot forward up into the air. “Pull me up.” She said. I used bayan escort my free arm to pull her up till she was back in a far more traditional position. “You are SO paying for that, Mister,” she teased.
This time she rocked on top of me with a carnal dedication of purpose and when I again gripped her breasts she moaned. I didn’t go so far as to pinch or punish them, that was for nighttime sex, I still held them firmly the way she liked. She came again.
“Come – for – me! Come – for – me!” she chanted.
That’s the problem with morning wood. It isn’t really functional. She bounced herself on my cock. She wasn’t going to stop until she had something so I gripped her hips and joined her motion thrusting my hips up off the bed in time with her bounces.
It worked and I growled when I came.
“Good?” she asked enthusiastically.
“Good!” I said.
“I wish we had an Alice to wake up and make coffee for me before we got out of bed.”
“Alice came with six kids.” I said.
“Good point! My legs are going to ache in class today,” she said. She massaged her thighs as she stood in a tall stretch. I just watched her.
“You know, you could make the coffee.” She looked at me that way women do when they aren’t mad at you but want you to react as quickly as you would if they were. I lurched myself out of bed and began the process of Saturday morning breakfast.
The smell of red meat in butter woke my son up early. At eight fifteen my girlfriend picked up my wife for exercise class as I made my way through three eggs, hash browns and pan seared sirloin. Life was good. The other Jennifer came into the kitchen supposedly for a quick cup of coffee but I told myself it was to see me. When I looked up I decided it was neither of those. Her intent was to show me the tiny sports bra and shorts combo she was wearing. It was less material than some of Jennifer’s swim suits.
“I didn’t need to see that!” my son said, when the women had left. “I wish you old people would dress appropriately.
“I needed to see it. Gets the old ticker going in the morning.”
“Dad, stop. Gross.” He could be a full-grown man and my little boy at the same time.
I contemplated buying a Jeep just so I could get one of those wheel covers that said, “Life is good.”
Jenny did not come in the house after their class. She just dropped Jennifer at the door and my disappointment was tempered by relief. I asked her about class and she said it was great. I asked about our new friend and she said the woman was fine. Her tone was dismissive so I let it go. I filled her in on the current status of things: the boy was at football and would be home to change and then gone again to pick up his girlfriend. I had mowed, trimmed, and cut back the plants around the pool.
She asked if the pool was warm and I told her it as close. She told me I needed to fix the spa. I said I had it on the list. “No. You really need to fix the spa,” she said more seriously than seemed appropriate and terrible horrible hedonistic thoughts filled my brain. I struggled to chase them off. I asked what the plan for the day was.
“You are taking me shopping and buying me something pretty,” she stated. I had planned a lazy day around the house and I think I groaned. “It’s what men do for their wives after they have a once in a lifetime three-way.”
As I processed what she said I fixated on one part of her statement. “Once in a lifetime,” She’d said. I wanted to ask why she had said it. There had to be a reason. The girls, I was sure, had talked. Women always talk. They can’t avoid it. Even overly private women who were raised in a repressed environment and have trouble opening up emotionally talk when sex is the topic.
“I need a bath first.” She positively bounced as she headed for the bathroom.
Some minutes after the water turned off she summoned me. I went to her quickly. “I need a large cup of coffee and that book under my nightstand.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I joked at her, bowing submissively. I returned quickly with coffee and handed her the mug and her book of erotica.
“I am the wife, not the mistress.” I tried to determine if she was joking or if I was in trouble. I was now sensitive to each and every word she spoke, their context and her tone. I couldn’t decide how she had meant it. I didn’t want to ask. I retreated.
Typically, when she bathed and read her dirty stories I would wait patiently in the bedroom for the opportunity to please her. I loved to please her. I have an oral fixation and freshly bathed and shaved she was too much to resist but I was preoccupied. There was too much going on in my mind and we had not yet really discussed any of it. I couldn’t decide how I felt until she told me how I was going to be allowed to feel. I am not a total milquetoast. I was going to feel what I felt whether it was allowed or not. What was still undecided was whether or not I demonstrated how I felt.
I retreated to the yard and took on making sprinkler repairs. There was always something to adjust or mend. It was good therapy. It was undeniable the way I felt that morning. Certainly there was some trepidation. There were shadows around the edges that I had to consider were fear. I tried as I poked around in the mud with a screwdriver to figure out what I was afraid of. I could have been afraid of the new woman who had so suddenly entered my life. It was not unusual for me to feel an equal amount of fear to balance any feeling of attraction I felt but there was something else. Jennifer was suddenly unpredictable. She had shown parts of herself the night before I had never known about. She had expressed a real attraction to a woman. She had acted on it enthusiastically. If anything, over our years of marriage, she had expressed only indifference to the idea of bi-sexual sex. I felt a fear of losing what I had and what I had was good.
When she appeared out the front door in a long maxi dress that clung to every curve of her body I stopped thinking entirely and just looked at her.
“Okay?”
“Wow!”
“Get showered.” She commanded and I obeyed.
In the mall I had to pull her out of the cheap crappy no-name dress store she had gone into. It had the word Barn in its name. I never would get her to go in Nieman Marcus but I got her to look at Nordstrom’s and she eventually tried on a very nice cocktail dress. It was white with red and black flowers on it. I guess that sounds odd but it wasn’t. It was a very nice dress. I had her in the mood now and she tried on four more. I would fetch a new one as she tried one on. She eventually decided she wasn’t going to find anything better and handed me the first one.
“You need shoes to go with it,” I told her. She protested but we headed for the shoe department. We alternated flats that she chose with heels that I suggested. I scowled at each pair of sandals she wanted referring to them as flip-flops. In the end we compromised. The wedges she got were somewhere in between. “It means you Valet park when I wear them.”
“Deal,” I said.
“Want to get a beer?” she asked. I countered with the place that served decadent over priced and too strong margaritas and she jumped at the offer.
On the way we passed a jewelry store. She looked at a gaudy ring. “It’s a cocktail ring,” she said when I asked where or when she would ever wear it.
“It is 60% off today. And I can take off another ten if you open an account,” the woman behind the counter suggested.
We took seats at the bar, hanging her bags over the back of the barstool. She asked where the ladies room was and when she left I asked the bartender to watch our things and ran out of the store. It was a short half run/half jog back to the jewelry store.
The woman tried to upsell me and I scowled. She was moving painfully slow. I finally snapped and asked the man next to her if he could ring me up, I needed to go. The man offered an additional twenty percent off and sped through the process at the register charging my American Express and handing me the ring. He said there was a box I said I would be back to pick it up. I ran back to the restaurant and seeing her at the bar slipped into the restroom. It turned out I actually needed to use it. Finally seated back beside her she chided me for going to the bathroom in every restaurant we ever went to and I laughed along with her.
“So a cocktail ring… you wear it when you wear a cocktail dress?”
“Of course.”
“So next Friday at happy hour you can break out your new dress and your spiffy new shoes and that would be a good time to wear it?” She was peering at me over the top of her drink as she slowly drew it up through a straw.
“I don’t need it,” she said.
“Do you want me to take it back?” I pulled off a pretty good reveal rolling it through my fingers.
“No,” she smiled broadly. She stuck her right hand out and I slipped it on her ring finger first, it was slightly too large. I pulled it off and put it on her middle finger and she looked at it grinning.
“Do we need to have it sized?”
“Nope.”
“Wrong finger.”
“I like it. I can flip other women the bird.” She showed me by flipping me off. The large square ruby encircled by diamonds glittered. “How much was it?”
“Not much. Doesn’t matter. You’re worth it.” I told her.
“You remember that.” She said.
“Are we going to talk about last night?” I asked. I didn’t think I was out of turn or springing the idea of a discussion on her, it seemed like a natural transition, the ring was linked with last night in my mind. She told me otherwise by turning in her seat and looking away, staring off into the distance.
“I want another?” she said, setting an empty glass down on the bar.
“We could go home, I could make some.” Fear, doubt, happiness, expectation, satisfaction, and all the other emotions that had rambled in and out of me all morning were replaced by the stomach-churning wave of uncertainty that suddenly overwhelmed me.
“I thought we might see a movie.”
She had another stiff drink and I quickly drained first a second and then a third beer. We sat in silence and then wandered without speaking to the theater. We had a brief discussion about what to see and then she slept through the romantic comedy while I sat thinking Amy Adams would be the perfect casting for Jenny and played a puzzle game of casting Jennifer and myself.
Our trip home was as tense and quiet as had been our time at the bar. It was getting dark and I opened a bottle of wine. She sipped at the glass I poured for her as I nervously worked to finish the bottle.
We made love and although at times it was clumsy she was successful at sucking me off, I reciprocated until she made me stop and then took her quietly in a somewhat stilted and traditional way. When she rolled over I laid on my back watching BBC crime dramas and drifting in and out of a restless sleep. I wanted to ask her what was wrong but knew it was the wrong question; her answer would be “Nothing.” I hoped the morning would bring some sort of answers. I hated the idea that my relationship with Jennifer Two was over but in the grand scheme of things, getting my Jennifer back on track was far more important.
We started Sunday with a trip to church. We suffered through the bad music and pointless sermon and had the same discussion we always had on our way home about turning Catholic or something and finding a new church. At home she made toast and I changed into swim trunks and headed for the yard. I had no real projects for the day but I would find something. If you asked me if I was avoiding her I would deny it but the truth was that was exactly what I was doing. I wasn’t successful. I was fertilizing the lawn when she emerged in her smallest bikini carrying a book and sunglasses in one hand and a pitcher in the other.
“Don’t work today,” she more asked then commanded. I got two small plastic cups and she poured two glasses.
“What are you reading?” I asked her. She handed me the book. “You read it. It’s too violent for me. She trotted inside and returned with another. I had arranged our loungers. We drank Mimosa and held hands and the morning drifted into lunch. As I grilled chicken and assembled street tacos we switched to margaritas. The tequila did its job and it washed away my thoughts, feelings, and my need to discuss much of anything including Jennifer – either Jennifer.
Good and drunk we managed to get in the pool. It was only spring and it was cool, bordering on cold. Of course that was our take, the water was 76 degrees and if you were from Wisconsin you would have loved it.
Drunk in the water we groped each other. We played a game called tugboat we had been playing since we first dated where I wrapped my arms around her and she floated deliciously in the water as I pulled her around. She was drunk enough that when I pulled her top off she didn’t stop me. When I began to tease her nipples she suggested we go inside.
We don’t get to have drunken sex very often. Typically one of us passes out. It’s inconvenient because when we do, when we both manage to stay awake, it is good. It is dirty and naughty and really, really good.
In the bedroom I tore at her bikini until it was out of the way and discarded to the floor. She began to talk to me. That was what she did when she was drunk – she laid back, extended her arms over her head, spread her legs and talked dirty.
“I’ve been thinking about your cock all morning. Give me your cock.” Not yet. I had things to do first. I pressed my mouth between her legs and went to work. I was insatiable. I licked and sucked at her sweet pussy, I devoured it. “Make me come. Give me your cock,” she sneered hungrily. I added a finger just like she likes. I knew how deep to place it. I knew how to move it. She growled. I licked. She purred. I added a second and she raised her hips, pressing her pussy into my mouth. “I want two cocks. Will you get me another cock, baby? Do you want to watch me suck a cock while you fuck me?”
It was a code. I used the pussy juices that dripped out of her and down my chin to lubricate my finger. I moved my tongue from her clit to her asshole and prepared it. She moaned and spread her thighs wider.
“Yeah, baby. Do it!” she growled when I pressed my finger into her ass. I went back to her clit teasing it with the end of my tongue. “Get my ass ready, baby. Get it ready for your cock.” I licked her with a new intensity as I moved my hand; two fingers fucked her pussy as my smallest finger probed her ass. She liked it and she wanted it but she didn’t like that she did. It could only happen when we were this trashed. I didn’t care; I just liked to hear her moan. She was moaning a lot. She was close. I fucked her more quickly. When she came she gripped the headboard. I had on occasion tied her to the wood posts but really it was unnecessary, when she was like this she didn’t need to be bound, she would take whatever I gave her happily. I pulled my fingers from her pussy and moved to my knees. There was one more step of preparation. Seated between her legs I used the larger fingers of my stronger hand to prepare her. She grimaced as I moved it slowly into her ass, pressing it as deep as I could. It wasn’t easy – she fought against it. “Get it ready, baby. My ass needs your fat dick. Fuck it with your fat dick.”