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I returned to my house to find the lovely Jessika, her brunette hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing one of my t-shirts and lounging on the couch.
“I have the food,” I announced, holding up the bag containing a cheeseburger for Jessika, a chicken sandwich for myself, and a large order of fries to share.
“Great! I am fucking starving. Coming seven times within a couple of hours does that to a girl.”
Jessika met me at the table, leaning in for a quick kiss even before I put the food on the table. I would have prolonged that kiss, but my lover pulled away.
“I’ll get the drinks from your fridge,” she said, touching my arm as she walked past. “I assume you want water.”
“I think I have a diet root beer in there. That would be good.”
“That sounds good. I’ll have one too, if that’s okay.”
“You can have anything you want, Babe.”
“What I would like is a real beer, but you don’t have any,” Jessika said as she placed the two bottles of diet soda on the table. “The problem of being with a non-drinker, I suppose.”
“I could go get you some beer,” I replied. “There is the convenience store around the corner.”
“Nah, this is fine. Alcohol would just make me horny again, and I’m not sure I can do more tonight.”
“Might be worth a shot-three more orgasms and you would reach an even ten for the day.”
“Shit, with the three from last night, I’ve had ten in the last twenty-four hours. I’m not sure I could take any more.”
“It might be fun to find out,” I laughed.
My lover grinned, then shook her head.
“Let’s just eat, then see what happens,” she said.
“I could just strap you down again,” I suggested after she had taken a bite of her cheeseburger.
Jessika’s made a choking sound, then swallowed the food in her mouth.
“Did you have to wait until I took a bite?” she scolded me, gray eyes icy.
“I was just teasing. I thought you liked it.”
“Liked it? It was fucking incredible. And fun.”
“So, you would do it again?”
“Um, yeah. Plus, you still owe me a ravishing at some point.”
“That is what we just did, I thought.”
“No, that was more kinda submissive roleplay, at least in my mind,” Jessika told me, a thoughtful look on her face. “My fantasy is more that you tie me down and just have your way with me, not make me do things for you and order me around and stuff. I mean, like I said, that was fun, a lot of fun, and I am up to doing it again, but it was not quite my fantasy.”
“Okay, I will keep that in mind,” I said, trying but failing to keep my tone neutral.
“Don’t overthink that, Mark,” my brunette lover said, and I heard Jessi’s voice in my head, reminding me of all the times she had told me the same thing. “I really got off on you taking control and me serving you. I wouldn’t want to do it all the time, but I am also willing to take it further, if you want. But my fantasy is a little different, and I want that too. That’s all I’m saying. Really.”
“I understand,” I assured her. “I was just concerned I had disappointed you.”
“You never disappoint me,” the brunette grinned. “Other than when you keep talking when I want to eat.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled as Jessika resumed eating her cheeseburger.
As I ate my sandwich and some of the fries, another situation in which I disappointed Jessika came to mind-my relationship with Jessi. Of course, I did not bring that up, but I did start to wonder where that relationship stood. I had not heard from Jessi at all since I left her apartment early Saturday morning.
“You’re a million miles away there, Mark,” Jessika said, reaching under my stationary hand to take some fries.
“I was just thinking about… something.”
“About something you think disappoints me?”
“Sort of, I guess.”
“Mark, I’ve accepted that, um, situation, is what it is. Sometimes I have to remind myself about it so I don’t, well, forget. And yeah, I know that’s circular. I don’t know how else to express it, um, safely. Besides, the only thing that disappoints me is when other things spill into our time together, so let’s not let it this time, okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, but I was worried Jessika was being too glib about the ‘situation’, as she had called it.
“You want to go to bed?” I asked Jessika after waking her. She had fallen asleep on my shoulder while we were watching a movie.
“Sure, Mark,” she smiled, stretching in a way that pulled my t-shirt she was wearing tight across her chest. “But not funny business. My stuff’s sore and closed for business, and that means my mouth too, so don’t get any ideas about that.”
“There is another option,” I said as I stood and held out my hand to her.
Jessika took my hand and I helped her to her feet even while she was shaking her head.
“I’m not sure taking it up my ass on a weeknight is a good idea, Mark.”
I felt my face flush as I stammered out my response.
“I, I wasn’t… um, I didn’t mean, uh, mean, well, that. I was poker oyna thinking about between your boobs, and I was just teasing anyway.”
The brunette stifled a laugh, then hugged me.
The alarm on Jessika’s phone woke us both. After she turned it off, she rolled over to face me.
“Thanks for letting me rest last night,” she grinned. “I always feel bad when I tell you ‘no’ since sex is the whole point of being friends-with-benefits.”
“You did not tell me ‘no’, Jessika. Even if you had not told me you were sore, I am not sure I could have done anything more myself.”
“Not even a titty fuck? I mean, I know you said you were teasing, but clearly, you thought about it. And I could have done it. Hell, I should have done it given the number of times I came compared to how many you did.”
“We’re not going to start that silly trying to keep a balance thing again, are we?”
“It’s not silly, and I’ve never stopped doing it anyway. I mean, I don’t know the exact difference anymore, I’m not tracking it that closely, but I know that I have come a lot more times in this relationship than you have.”
“It’s not a contest.”
“Yes, you’ve said that before. And you’re right. It’s not a contest. It’s about what’s fair.”
“It’s easier for women to have more, sometimes,” I shrugged.
“Yeah, you’ve said that before too, and I shot you down then. As I’ve told you, in my experience, most guys got off every time but I did not, and that’s not counting me giving head. Add that in, and they guys got off much more often than I did. I know how unfair that felt to me. Now with you, it’s flipped, and I don’t want to be unfair to you the way other guys were to me.”
“I understand why you think that, Jessika, but it is unrealistic. At my age, I am not going to be able to climax as often as you can. It is a matter of physiology.
“All the more reason I should have made you come last night, since it was an opportunity to even that up a bit given my, um, need for rest.”
“Well, you could make up for it now, I guess.”
“No time, unless you want a BJ in the shower.”
I had suggested bringing a plastic stool into the shower for Jessika to sit on, but she had declined the offer. Instead, she put a towel on the floor of the shower and knelt in front of me as the water cascaded off my back.
“Don’t you want me to wash your hair first?”
“No time for all that. You wash while I suck you off, then I’ll wash up afterward.”
“I like washing your hair,” I countered, somewhat half-heartedly as the curvy brunette had picked that moment to wrap her lips around my erection.
I ran my fingers through Jessika’s wet hair as she started bobbing up and down my shaft. Almost immediately, it was apparent that my lover knew time was a factor for us. She eschewed her customary variation of techniques and took up a quick, steady rhythm, concentrating on the first third of my shaft, including the sensitive head. In only a few minutes, I was telling her I was close.
Jessika surprised me by pulling her lips from me and kneeling further upright and asking me for the soap. I figured she was up to something, and I wanted to find out what, so I snatched up the bar of soap, only to fumble and drop it. The lovely woman kneeling in front of me rolled her eyes and reached around me to retrieve it. Once she did so, she used it to apply soap to her ample bosom, taking her time to rub the slippery substances all over her breasts in slow, sensuous motions.
“Shit, Jessika. That is fucking erotic as hell.”
“Why Mark Warner, you have a potty mouth this morning,” she smirked before putting the soap on the shower floor next to her.
I started to retort, but the feel of renewed suction on my erection drove whatever it was I was going to say out of my mind. Jessika chose that moment to go into overdrive with both her bobbing and suction. In the span of a handful of seconds, I shot back to imminent eruption status.
“Fuck, that feels fantastic,” I moaned, hands again in the brunette’s hair. “I’m going to come, Babe.”
Like before, Jessika immediately pulled her lips from mine and knelt higher. She snatched up the soap, gave her breasts a quick touch up, then pushed them together around my engorged penis. The feeling of her soap-slicked skin on my shaft sent me into my climax moments later. The first burst of semen landed on her neck, and the rest pumped out onto her chest as she continued to smother my shaft in her cleavage.
After I finished, Jessika sucked my softening penis clean, then I gave way for her to finish bathing, standing to the side of the shower stall and admiring her figure. Once she stepped out, I finished washing myself, then followed her. I threw on some sweatpants, and as my lover put on her makeup and styled her hair, I made her a quick breakfast. While I did so, I could not stop smiling. And the combination blowjob and tit fuck in the shower was only the lesser part of what was making me happy. The major contributor to my mood canlı poker oyna was the increasingly familiar comfort of having Jessika at my place in the morning, doing nothing more exciting than getting ready for work.
Tuesday afternoon found me grading papers in my office while texting back and forth with Jessika. I thought about texting Jessi as well, but she had made it clear that she would be in contact when she was ready to do so. Plus, I was having so much fun with the admittedly inconsequential, but nicely distracting, communications with the brunette that I did not want to risk it by thinking too much about my other lover.
I was tidying up my office to leave for the day when my phone pinged with a text. I picked it up and was surprised to see the name “Kyle Brenner” above the text. Kyle was an old friend from college, and his wife, Celia, was a friend of my ex-wife. We had done quite a bit together as couples, but when the divorce came, my contact with Kyle was greatly reduced, and with Celia, it had dried up all but completely.
“Hey Mark. Celia and I were wondering if you would be free for dinner Friday night?”
Unsure how to respond to the unexpected invitation, I sat down, leaned back in my chair, and stared at the ceiling of my office. I knew that for Kyle to make the offer, Celia was at least fully onboard with it, if not responsible. And that worried me, since I had no idea what she might be thinking, unless it was to talk to me about my ex. And that was something in which I had no interest. After a few minutes of inner debate, I decided that even though I should decline, my curiosity was too great not to see what they wanted.
“Hey, Kyle. Great to hear from you. I would love to go to dinner on Friday. Any thoughts on a restaurant?.”
“Nah, your choice. Just text me where you want to meet.”
“Ok, I will let you know.”
“You bringing anyone?”
I stared at his last text, second thoughts blasting through my mind. I did not want to be subject to an interrogation about my love life from my ex-wife’s friend. But then I realized that bringing someone unexpected would be a great way to subvert whatever plan Celia might have as well as providing plenty of provocative information for her to take back to my ex, none of which she would like.
Of course, Jessi would probably have been the more scandalous choice, but that thought was fleeting. Not only was the blonde not speaking to me currently, if she did go, I had no idea what she might do or say. Jessika, on the other hand, was more of a known quantity with respect to her behavior. Still, she would be shocking to Celia, and by extension my ex, in a different way than Jessi would have. Additionally, I thought I would have more fun with the older of my paramours.
“Yes, if that is okay.”
“Of course it is. I’ll look for the directions to the restaurant.”
I thought about calling Jessika, but she was likely still working. Instead, I thought of possible restaurants. My first choice would have been the one on the river to which I had taken Jessi the prior Friday night, but I had concerns about running into the freckle-faced waitress, Sheri, who had given her number to Jessi and me. Such an encounter might lead to some uncomfortable questions. On the other hand, I did wonder how the young woman might react to me bringing a different woman to dinner.
“If she remembers you at all,” a voice in my head told me, the same one that once had pointed out all my doubts about Jessi. I was learning to ignore that voice, however, and did so this time as well. I was sure the waitress would not have forgotten. Still, when I reached home, I called a different restaurant and booked a table for four.
“Hey Mark,” Jessika’s voice said from my phone, the sound of road noise in the background.
“You off work?”
“Yeah, and on my way home. And I’d love to spend some more time with you, but I got some catch-up work to do on that online class I’m taking this semester.”
For a moment I searched my memory, trying to remember Jessika telling me about what classes she was taking. I thought she might have mentioned something when we were Monterey Bay over the semester break, but I could not recall what that might have been. And that made me feel guilty.
“Remind me what it is,” I said, deciding to at least somewhat acknowledge my ignorance.
“It’s a Business Admin class on professionalism. I don’t think I ever told you what it was, mainly ’cause I didn’t want to bore you to death. I also started business math online but dropped it when I realized I really need to take that one in the classroom.”
“I had forgotten that the concentration for your associate degree was Business Admin.”
“It’s the boobs. They make men forget what comes out of my mouth. Well, at least the words that do.”
I knew the brunette was joking, but as with some of Jessika’s prior self-deprecating humor about her chest, or rather, how men reacted to it, I knew there was some truth behind it. And that internet casino made me worry about my own behavior.
Jessika must have sensed my concern, and before I could speak again she said, “You know I’m joking, right Mark?”
“Yes, I know,” I assured her. “This is a change of subject, but I was wondering if you were free Friday night. An old friend of mine and his wife asked me to dinner. I would be great if you could go with me.”
It was my lover’s turn to hesitate. In that moment, I was sure she would decline My fear was that a dinner date with friends would take Jessika too far down the more-than-friends-with-benefits path I was sure we were on, and that she would withdraw for a few days or more. However, she surprised me.
“Sure, sounds fun.”
Jessika and I texted a few times that night while she worked, and a little on Wednesday, but I heard nothing from her all day on Thursday, other than a quick “ok” after I had told her the time and place for the following night’s dinner. So, I was not expecting it when she texted me to tell me to get on the computer.
When her video call came in, I immediately answered it and was rewarded with an image of Jessika in black lace bra that covered maybe two-thirds of her bosom and looked to be straining to keep that part contained.
“Hey sexy,” she grinned.
“That should be my line,” I replied, trying but failing to look her in the eye for more than a second or two before looking at the lovely expanse of cleavage on my screen.
“Eyes up here, mister,” the brunette laughed.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, making myself look into her amused gray eyes.
“You know I’m kidding. And that’s what I’m calling about anyway. I am trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow. I originally thought jeans and a sweater, but the restaurant you said we are going to is more of a dress place, or at least a skirt and a blouse.”
“You will be beautiful no matter what you wear,” I responded, my words bringing a hint of color to Jessika’s cheeks.
“I just don’t want to wear anything that will shock your friends. You remember the dress I wore the last time we went to dinner.”
I nodded, recalling deep cleavage crossed by laces that made it even more apparent what the dress was hiding. The effect of that dress had not been lost on our waiter, nor on me, and Jessika had started feeling self-conscious.
“I loved that dress,” I assured her.
“Yeah, because you’re fucking me. It would not be appropriate for dinner with your friends. And a fair number of my dresses are similar. Well, most aren’t that extreme, but they are at least similar in theme, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t think a little cleavage will hurt anyone. In fact, it might work out well.”
Jessika’s eyes narrowed and she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Can I ask you a question, Mark?”
“Sure,” I replied, not liking the change to the brunette’s tone.
“Am I supposed to be ‘eye candy’ or ‘arm candy’ at this dinner?”
“I am not sure I understand the difference,” I admitted. “But neither sounds positive.”
“Depends on your point of view, I guess. And on what you intend me to be. You see, eye candy is what you bring along for others to look at. Arm candy is what you bring along for others to look at and be jealous. Make sense?”
“You mean jealous of me, that you would be with me?”
“Then definitely the latter. Although both are rather objectifying, don’t you think?”
“You’re the one who wants arm candy, so you need to work that out for yourself. But just so you know, I don’t mind being arm candy for you, but I hate being just eye candy. Not only does it remind me too much of stripping, but it makes me think a lot less of the guy who wants me to be that.”
“Then how about you be neither. You are my date, and that is it.”
Jessika seemed to relax a little, but she did not speak, and I knew something was still bothering her.
“What is it, Jessika?” I asked, choosing the direct approach.
“Do these people know your ex-wife?”
“Are they friends?”
“My ex is friends with the wife, or used to be. I am not sure if wanting this dinner means they are not as friendly now or that she will be reporting back.”
“Probably the second, I suspect,” the brunette sighed, letting her arms drop and leaning just a little forward. “But if that’s so, why not pick the little blonde for this dinner? She’s sure to be better suited for shock value.”
I did not tell Jessika that the same thought had occurred to me. Instead, I said that she was the person I wanted to take, and that I knew her presence would make the dinner more likely to be a fun, or at least not unpleasant, experience.
“And it’s not just because I’ve got big boobs you can shove in their faces, so to speak? You’ve told me I am quite a bit different from your wife, physically that is.”
“Not just physically, Jessika. You are a much better person, and a whole lot nicer too. And much more fun, in many ways.”
“So, if I wore a loose sweater that showed no cleavage, you would be fine with that?”
“Yes. I’m not going to tell you what to wear, okay. You wear what makes you comfortable.”
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