Equal Shares Ch. 41bysteveh11©
The morning after the night before was not nice, but copious amounts of water and painkillers helped, along with several cups of coffee.
All three gathered in Stan's kitchen, listlessly going through the motions of making breakfast. Finally, Stan said "Hey, we ought to go to Iorio's for breakfast. Getting out of the house would do us good, anyway."
"I never thought I'd hear you advocating fresh air, Stan!" grumbled Anne, though she had a slight smile on her face.
"He's probably right, though," Denise thought out loud.
"I know. Well, even a stopped clock's right twice a day!" Anne answered, and the two ladies sniggered at Stan
"I'm damned if I'm walking though. It looks freezing outside this morning! I'll take my car," said Stan, ignoring the jibes which only got worse after that.
When they entered Iorio's Stan was surprised to be greeted by Susan and Elaine.
"I thought you'd be still in bed, Elaine. Up all night partying, and still up and about this morning? I wish I could do that!" he told the diminutive girl.
Elaine looked shyly at Susan. "No, I kinda left the party early. You guys were still there. I wanted to come home to Suze..."
Susan reached over and took her hand. Stan and Anne smiled, and Denise said, "Aww, Ain't love grand!" and had to dodge a piece of breadstick thrown by Susan.
The friends sat together, exchanged news and gossip, sharing who'd been seen with whom at the party. After a while though Susan took Elaine's hand again and said, "You know that there's no formal invitations or anything, but we would both like you guys to come to our ceremony. It'll not be much, but you've all been very supportive, and you're our friends, so we want you there."
"Even me, Susan?" Denise said in a very small voice, looking down at her hands on the tabletop.
"Especially you, Denise. I think I can safely say, you know us best of all! And, well... I know I probably overreacted to what happened, and I don't want to break the friendship. So yes, we – I – want you to come, Denise."
Denise finally looked up at Susan. As Stan watched Denise, he saw hope flare, then die, eventually to be replaced by acceptance.
"I'd love to come, Susan, Elaine. Thanks," she said, quietly, sincerely. Stan nodded as well. But Anne seemed upset.
"When's it likely to be, Susan?" she asked.
"Probably the second week in February," announced Elaine.
"Oh, God. I don't know if I can make it!" Anne blurted. "I need to explain. I'm almost certainly leaving The Firm – that's not for public consumption, by the way. Not yet. But if it comes off, I'll be working God knows how many hours a day with no time off for good behaviour, or bad behaviour, either, Stan, so don't you say it! I'll try, honestly I will, but I just can't promise to be there."
Susan touched Anne's hand briefly. "It's okay, Anne. If you can't make it, we'll understand, but we'd love it if you were."
- - - - - - - - - -
The couple of days before Christmas were an unaccustomed rush for Stan. In previous years, when Caron was still alive, she'd done much of it herself and all Stan had had to do was shop for and have her presents store-wrapped. This year was different. He'd already bought the presents for everyone, but wrapping them was not something he felt he'd be very good at.
Still and all, it was a job that he felt he had to do, so he did it. Actually, Stan was well pleased at the end. He was looking forward to giving his lovers their presents.
Then there were the cards for his more distant relatives, the aunts and uncles, cousins and so on. They'd all reached the point where the only contact they had was the twice-yearly exchange of Christmas and birthday cards. This was the main thing that Caron had done for him. He'd completely neglected it last year, but now he felt that duty was duty and, after all, they were family. So he looked for Caron's old address book.
Stan found it, began to look through it, and was quickly immersed in memories. Caron and he had been to this cottage in Ireland about ten years ago; then they'd corresponded with the owners a few more times. He remembered the cottage well: very Spartan looking on the outside, but inside it had gas-fired central heating, a satellite receiver and much, much more. The beds were large, and comfortable, and fun...
Stan spent well over an hour lost in his memories of the time there, and other times when he and Caron had been away together. A holiday in Tenerife which was their actual honeymoon, delayed a couple of years; a week in the highlands at another cottage that he'd loved but Caron hadn't; and many and various weekends away to various places.
He was still there, sat in his recliner when Denise came in. "Hi Stan!" she called from the doorway as she hung up her key.
Stan shook himself. "Hi Denise!" he answered, pulling himself together. It was already near dark – where had the time gone?
Denise entered the room, and Stan closed the address book, placing it on the coffee table with his uncompleted cards.
She took one look at his face, quickly crossed the room, bending to hug him. "Stan, whatever's the matter?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing really. I just got lost in memories, that's all."
"I'll make us a cup of tea and then you can tell me about it," she said.
A few minutes later, Stan began telling Denise about the cards, and Caron's address book, and then the memories it had invoked. She let him talk, interjecting a careful question every now and then to keep him going when he faltered. By the end Stan felt desperately tired. It seemed to him that Denise had shouldered a lot of the grief that he'd felt that afternoon. It wasn't completely gone, of course – he knew it probably never would – but he felt better, lighter somehow.
He looked up at the pretty red haired face and asked, for the first time, "Was there something you wanted, Denise?"
"Yes, actually, Stan. But you obviously needed to share that first, it's okay. But you do realise, it's way past the last posting date for cards?
That fact had obviously been lost on Stan. Denise's eyes twinkled, and she said, "Better late than never, Stan. Family is important. You can always blame the Post Office – just get them into the post as soon as you can."
Then Denise's face sobered, "Um, I wanted to ask if you minded if I made myself scarce this evening."
"Of course not, but...why?" Stan asked. 'Is it another woman – or worse, another man?' he thought, his anxiety rising.
"Anne. I thought it would be a good idea for you to spend some time with her... alone," she said. Stan couldn't help the sigh of relief that came out, and Denise looked at him quizzically.
"What? Oh, nothing – just me being silly. Um, yes, of course, Anne," Stan spluttered out in embarrassment. Denise just kept looking at him, with deceptive calm. Stan realized he had better head off a storm. "I thought you'd maybe found another woman," he admitted, feeling a partial truth was the best thing in the circumstances.
Denise said, with a tinge of bitterness, "Hah! As if. I'm afraid that side of me has had to go into hibernation for a while. No, I was thinking about you and Anne. When was the last time you two made love?"
Stan spluttered some more. "I-I can't remember, actually," he told his lover – his other lover, he reminded himself.
"There you are then!" Denise cried, triumphantly.
"This has to be the weirdest conversation I've had," Stan said. "Being told off by my girlfriend for not making enough love to my other girlfriend!"
"Ah, yes, but you know I'm right, don't you, Stan?" Denise replied, waving a finger at him. Stan could only nod.
"Are you always this up-front about things, Denise?" he asked her when he'd recovered a little.
"Oh, no, Stan. I can be demure when I want," she answered, looking up from under her lashes at him. Stan's heart thumped at the sight, and he stood, reaching out to her.
"I think that, before I devote myself to my other girlfriend, this girlfriend might like a demonstration of how much I love her," he said, tenderly. Denise smiled, eyes now dancing with anticipation. She let herself be drawn to her feet and embraced him, offering her lips up to be kissed – an offer which Stan did not refuse.
Before they could get too carried away, however, Denise gently disengaged and eased away from him. "Not now, Stan. This day should be for Anne. I'll have my share another day – but your girlfriend needs you, now. She's been under a lot of stress, you know, and an unconventional relationship hasn't helped. I'm going to go now, and you can get yourself ready – I've already told her to come over here tonight."
"You what?" Stan spluttered, again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today.
Denise leaned forward to him again, speaking sweetly into his ear. "Just let us organise your life, Stan, you know you want to!" Then she drew back, whirled and began to go. Stan reached for her, and she stopped and looked at him when she felt the hand on her arm.
"I told you, I'm going to go. Now. Get some candles and a bottle of wine, organise a good takeout, put a movie into the DVD player and look after her, Stan. I'll see you tomorrow."
Denise kissed him briefly then turned away again. Stan watched her go, marvelling at her. She was a complex person, he realised once more. 'I wonder if I'll ever really know her?'
- - - - - - - - - -
By the time Anne showed up an hour later, Stan had done as he'd been told. The only thing not yet organised was the food, as he wasn't sure what Anne would like. But the room was softly lit by several candles and by the glowing fake coals of his gas fire. He was showered and changed, had a number of films ready for Anne to choose from, and a nice Muscadet in the fridge with glasses ready.
Anne opened the door and called out "Hello, Stan!" He could hear her putting her coat up on the hook, then she walked into the room and stopped. Stan had barely a glance at her black dress, the one she'd worn dancing, before she burst into laughter.
"What?" he asked her, grinning himself – he couldn't help it.
"Denise came to see you?" she said, once she'd mostly recovered. "Don't bother, I can see she did. She called me and told me to come around, wear something nice and be prepared for a little romance tonight. I wondered what was going on, but now I see – and definitely approve!"
Anne sashayed towards him, and Stan stood, uncertain of himself, caught in the sheer power of her sensuality. Without removing a stitch of clothing, Anne had turned up the sexual heat considerably.
He reached for her as she came to him and pulled her close. She challenged him with her eyes, and he lifted his face to meet her as she bent down to kiss him. An uncertain time later, by some unspoken communication, they released each other.
"I'll fetch the wine," Stan said, "while you decide what you want to eat."
"That's easy, Stan," she replied immediately, "I'll be doing my damnedest to swallow your dick so that I can get the cream!"
For the barest instant Stan was shocked, then his libido kicked back in and he hurried into the kitchen to retrieve the bottle. He returned, opened it with a flourish and poured two glasses, a smaller one for him and a generous one for her.
Anne was lying in repose on the sofa, eyes smouldering. She reached for her glass and drew it to her lips. Stan couldn't help but follow with his eyes as she took a mouthful of the wine, clearly enjoying it but maintaining eye contact with her lover.
"Maybe we'll order the food later," Stan said, huskily as he laid a hand on her knee and gradually stroked up her leg. The dress did not interfere as he moved up white, soft, silky thigh towards the damp heat at the top. He huffed as his fingers encountered soft curls instead of fabric and he knew that Anne had again worn no panties tonight.
Anne's eyes were dancing with barely suppressed laughter at his expression. He'd stopped, suddenly, breath held, and she touched his face gently. As she stroked his cheek she told him in a chocolate whisper, "Breathe, Stan, breathe. You're no good to me if you pass out!"
Stan took a convulsive breath and moved. He put his arms under Anne's thighs, lifted and parted them. His look challenged her to stop him. Anne had said she wanted his dick, but clearly was happy for him to go down on her too, so she spread herself, pulling the dress up above her waist and lifting her ass to improve Stan's access.
Stan took no further time. He began planting light, butterfly kisses on her thigh, moving gradually up, sometimes varying by licking or sucking for a moment. He reached her pubic hair and twirled his tongue among the curls, teasing her, breathing in her heady scent, now playing his fingers along the outside of the same thigh.
For a few minutes he played there, then he shifted position and began teasing his way up the other thigh. Anne's breathing was fast and shallow now, and Stan looked up momentarily to find her nipples standing out in sharp relief under her dress. Her hips were moving involuntarily as her excitement mounted but still Stan hadn't touched her where she clearly wanted him to.
Stan's hands moved to run up the inside of Anne's thighs. He saw the darker hair around her cleft, neatly trimmed to allow her to wear a small bikini if she wanted, contrasting with the paler skin there. Her dress was rudely hiked up above her waist, she'd slipped off her shoes but was otherwise as fully dressed as she had been when she'd entered the room. Her face was flushed and her nipples hard, but she barely made a sound, just caressing his head, caressing her breasts through the material or sometimes pulling on a nipple.
Stan finally relented and bent his head down, gently pulling Anne open with his fingers and taking a long, slow lick in the sensitive area between her inner and outer labia. Anne moaned, low and long, then did it again when he repeated on the other side of her sensitive pussy. Stan kept up the gentle treatment for several minutes, building Anne's arousal to higher and higher levels. Her juices liberally coated his tongue, her taste exquisite. She was hot, wet and humping, and Stan could no longer hold himself back but drove his tongue into the furnace.
Anne actually yelped, and Stan grinned at being able to gain the upper hand. Although, judging by the way she was moving, the heat and wetness, and the noises, Anne was enjoying herself all right. Stan wormed a finger into her, twisting his hand palm-up so he could crook the finger, looking for her G-spot. Soon her body went rigid as he rapidly flicked his tongue around her clitoris. She nearly exploded, and Stan was surprised to hear a high, keening wail as her pussy convulsed around his finger as he massaged her.
Stan moved back onto his heels on the floor, watching Anne shake her head, blonde hair matted to her forehead, drawing in deep breaths. Her eyes were wide and staring beyond the ceiling, her consciousness elsewhere. Stan was awed by the power of her orgasm.
"GOD!" she cried, and turned her head towards him, eyes finally focussing on his. "That was amazing! I don't think I've had one as good as that before, Stan. Are you trying to kill me?"
Stan felt her juices drying on his face, unable to speak, still overcome by the sight and feel and taste and sound of Anne's rapture. He loved her, he delighted in her orgasms, but this one did seem to be something special.
"How long have you been waiting for that, Anne?" he asked, shrewdly.
"Too fucking long!" she answered. "It's been weeks, Stan. I've been too busy, too tired, for way too long. You'd got me used to so much more, and then... then it all stopped.
"But now, it's your turn, Stan."
They quickly removed their clothing. Anne, with far less to remove, sat down to wait for him, smiling as he balanced precariously on one leg removing each shoe and sock in turn.
She licked her lips, suggestively, while glancing down to his penis, jutting firmly in anticipation. "I believe I see something I promised I'd try to swallow," she said, softly. But Stan heard her well, and his dick swelled even more. "Ooh. It looks like someone likes the idea!"
Anne got up from the sofa and Stan sat in her place, legs apart. Anne took up a place on her knees in-between them. She reached for his erection, gently rubbing it at first, seemingly testing it. She seemed to be satisfied at what she found; she held it firmly, began licking the crown, wetting it, and kissing it. She made an 'O' with her mouth, slowly taking him in. Stan's breathing fluttered as he felt the wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue was an agile snake moving around him. Anne drew back and kissed the bulbous purple acorn again before lowering herself, deeper. Stan felt the back of her throat this time, and Anne held him there, still for a moment, before breathing in through her nose and forcing herself down again, further.
Stan could see the concentration on her face. He was frankly amazed. Anne had taken him deeper than she'd ever been able to manage before. Stan wasn't big, but there was barely an inch of his manhood outside Anne's lips. It felt incredible – but Anne wasn't finished yet. The flaring of her nostrils drew his gaze, and then she pushed herself down – and there was nowhere further to go. Stan felt the end of his steel hard erection being massaged by Anne's throat muscles. Then she drew back, slowly, letting his dick emerge from her lips.
"Wow!" Stan managed.
Anne smiled at him, though there were tears in her eyes too. "I've been researching, Stan. You can find 'How to do' articles on anything on the 'net!" Stan smiled back, but Anne continued, "I'll have to practice though Stan, I can't quite manage that with enough comfort yet. So you'll have to put up with an ordinary blowjob."
"Anne, my love, don't you know? There's no such thing as an ordinary blowjob. They're all wonderful, just some are more wonderful than others!"
"Spoken like a man!" she told him, mockingly.
"Spoken like a man who likes having his dick sucked!" Stan replied, and Anne thumped his thigh in mock disapproval before taking him in her mouth again.
Anne loved to make love to Stan's dick with her mouth. She kissed, she caressed, she sucked, she nibbled, she used her hands, she used her lips and her tongue. She took her time, taking Stan to a peak and holding him, letting it subside, refusing to take him over. Stan was going out of his mind. His hips jerked reflexively, he had to use all of his will to keep from driving Anne's head deeper onto his dick by grasping her head and forcing himself in. Anne played him like a virtuoso, building up his climax before settling into a hard, fast jerk-off rhythm.
"Wait!" Stan grated out. "I want to be inside you!"
Anne instantly stopped what she was doing. She stood, knelt on the sofa and placed her forearms on the cushion, bracing herself against the backrest. Looking back, she commanded, "Do me Stan! Hard!"
Stan leapt to obey. He knelt behind her, holding her hip with one hand and his spit-slick rod in the other. They adjusted heights and he placed himself at her entrance and pushed smoothly inside.
Stan had been close, but he wanted to enjoy this, and help Anne to enjoy it too, so instead of simply pounding away he started more slowly, with long, careful strokes. But Anne had brought him close to the brink and he soon saw that he'd not be able to hold out for long. Fortunately Anne was still very aroused herself, and the angle allowed his dick to rub her G-spot. Stan's thrusts increased pace, as he couldn't stop himself, then he felt her pussy begin to flutter around him as Anne neared orgasm.