tagErotic CouplingsLong Simmering Swing Ch. 02

Long Simmering Swing Ch. 02

byArt Martin©

She made it to class okay, but I was a minute late. "Mr. Allen. If you don't mind, please do not interrupt my class ever again," growled Professor Lake, an old crank who was nearing retirement. "In the future, if you are late, do not enter my classroom. Do I make myself clear?"

I meekly took my seat and was thankful he didn't run my ass out of there. I was never late for his class again. I also didn't get much out of it that morning either.

My nuts ached. My thoughts were of beautiful, passionate Vanessa and far from stress-strain analysis. In my mind, I replayed last night and this morning in my head. Recalling how I had fucked her this morning, I became concerned that I was too rough with her, but then again she seemed to like it.

My daydream was interrupted with the gruff voice of Professor Lake. "Mr. Allen! Mr. Allen!" Startled, my head snapped up and my pencil fell out my hand and dropped to the floor. "What is your problem this morning, Mr. Allen? Are you or are you not prepared to participate in this class?"

"I, I ,I..."

"Well? How would you approach this problem?"

What problem? What was he talking about? "I'm sorry sir, I didn't hear the question."

"Mr. Allen, do you or do you not plan on graduating this May?"

"Oh, yes sir. In May."

"Not if you don't pay attention. Do I make myself clear?"

I felt two-feet small. My eyes nervously glanced sideways. My fellow engineering students, a fiercely competitive lot, smugly smirked at my fall from grace. I tired to focus during the remaining class time, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the beautiful girl I had finally made love to.

A few weeks passed and Vanessa had all but moved in with me. Imagine my surprise to come home to find an army of sorority pledges scouring my apartment. I wasn't a slob, but like most guys, I wasn't Mr. Clean either. By the time they left, the place sparkled. The mold and caked on scum was gone from the tub enclosure, the stains gone from the toilet. The kitchen floor shone for the first time. All the spoiled, moldy food in the refrigerator was cleaned out and the funny odor was gone. The dirty dishes were clean and the oven looked like someone actually gave a damn. My jumble of mismatched sheets, pillowcases, and worn out towels were replaced with designer linen and my bed sported a new comforter. The comforter was surprisingly masculine as were the other soft goods.

I noticed a few other nice touches. Vanessa added a throw to cover the nasty sofa and added some artwork. She had found several posters of striking nude women, still rolled up in my closet. She had them framed simply and hung them above my sofa. She had made it into a nice bachelor pad. She explained, "After all, this is a man's apartment."

A few weeks passed. Over a cup of coffee, I asked Vanessa why she had broken it off with Jake. She looked at me and said, "I realized he wasn't the guy for me. I liked him and all that, and he made me feel good, but he wasn't my type." She smiled impishly and added, "You're more my type."

"What do you mean that he isn't your type?"

"Well, for one thing, he talks about nothing but sports. Which team is in whatever place in whatever division. What the prospects were for this team or that next year. Who cares? It was all he talked about."

I pondered this for a moment. That was one of the reasons I liked him so much. He was very knowledgeable about sports and was always fun to challenge and argue with. But I had learned in high school that that was guy thing. I never talked sports with a girl unless she brought the subject up, and even then I restrained myself lest her eyes irreparably glaze over in abject boredom.

"Hmmm, I see," I finally replied. Then I broached the subject we both had studiously avoided. "Was he good in bed?"

Vanessa blushed lightly. "Damn you're noisy! Yes, he was good... But you're fantastic! Jake never had the imagination or technique that you display. You're a master sweetheart, the best of the best and you're my man." My ego being properly and expertly inflated, I let the subject drop.

A few weeks later I was playfully fingering her ass in bed. She pulled away from me with an indignant, "No! Don't do that!"

We hadn't had or discussed anal sex before, but I was a little surprised at the outright rejection. "What? What's the problem?" I asked sincerely.

"It's dirty!"

"We just took a shower!"

"Well, you shouldn't do that!"

"Why not?" I was mystified. She seemed to enjoy my fleeting anal massages in the shower. "You seemed to like it when we're showering."

"Well, that's different."

"What's different?"

"You could wash your hands."

"We just bathed. You're clean as a whistle, V."

"Well, you shouldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"All you men are alike!" she shot back angrily.

I was now really mystified. "What do you mean?"

"You're just like Jake!"

"Jake?"

"Yeah, he wanted to take me in the ass! I wouldn't do it! He got angry and said I had to because I was his whore. He said he'd do whatever he liked with me. I told him to go fuck himself."

"So that's when you broke it off?"

"Yeah!"

"It wasn't about sports?"

"Yes and no. I had already decided to break it off, but that sealed it."

"So you've never had anal sex before?"

Her eyes flared with anger. "No!"

"Okay, okay." I knew I was treading on dangerous, sensitive ground, but the fact that she was an anal virgin, well that just had to be corrected and I was determined to be the corrector. I let the subject drop and didn't try to finger her ass unless we were in the shower. That was okay. Go figure.

A week later when all the emotions had cooled, I broached the subject again, this time over a pizza at Luigi's. "V, what's your real fear about anal intercourse?"

She looked up in shock and surprise. "Not here David!" she hissed so that no one could hear our discussion.

"Calm down. We're eating a pizza. Your little butt hole is safe here."

"David!"

"Really, calm down and talk in a normal voice. No one is paying any attention to us unless you lunge over the table and slap me upside the head with a slice of pizza. We're adults and can have an adult conversation." She sat back and nervously glanced around the crowded, noisy restaurant.

"It's not right," she finally muttered.

"What's not right?"

"You know!" she shot back.

"Whoa! What's not right about anal sex?"

She looked around in exasperation, obviously uncomfortable with the topic. She leaned forward and whispered, "That's not what your rectum is for."

I tried to see her point, but the illogic of it was so glaringly obvious. I gathered my thoughts, lest I make a fatal mistake.

After a reflective pause I said, "Your mouth is for eating and speaking, but you use it to kiss me and suck on me. Your tongue is primarily to help you chew food and form sounds, yet we both know how it's talented sexually. Your boobs are made to feed an infant, but we use them for our pleasure. Your pussy, that's for procreation and childbirth, yet we use it for purely recreational reasons. Your earlobes, primary function is gather to sound, yet we both know how delightfully sensuous they can be. The small of your back, your deep, deep navel, your tasty little toes, all sexually delightful. So it is with your beautiful ass. It can be very erogenous. Sex is all about pleasure, V. Maybe anal sex is very naughty, but I promise you, it can provide great pleasure."

She looked at me. I could see that she was confounded by my ironclad logic. "Can we talk about something else?"

I had made my point and was content to let her mull it over. I decided to give her all the time she needed. I knew she and Ginger had probably talked about it in the past. Ginger loved it up the chute and I'm sure she talked about it with her friends. I hoped that she would seek out and talk to Ginger again and get the straight skinny on doing it up the rear alley.

Early in the spring I asked her to marry me. We'd only been going out for maybe four months. Much to my delight she said yes. I went deep into debt and bought the best ring I could, a simple solitaire with a dinky ¼ carat diamond. As pitiful as it was, she pretended that it was the most fabulous ring she'd ever seen and wore it proudly. She was and she is a classy girl.

By the time I had given V the engagement ring, I had reconciled with Jake. After all I was looking for a way to move on from Ginger, and he provided it. Besides Vanessa and Ginger had always been good friends since being pledges their freshman year. It was also two-man sandlot V-ball time.

The four of us started to get together on a regular basis. When we were all together, Ginger was her usual exuberant self. I began to wonder why I had lost interest in her. Certainly it wasn't because of her looks, she was gorgeous, and it certainly wasn't her lack of passion or unwillingness to be adventurous in bed. While the four of us amicably chatted, drinking beer and wine, I realized that outside of great sex, we really didn't have that much in common. Ginger wasn't interested in hiking, rock climbing, or two-day canoe trips down some occasionally turbulent river. Our tastes in music were not compatible; me I like country-rock and classical, Ginger liked black rap. Our tastes in foods were different. I love good seafood or nice juicy steak. Ginger was mostly a vegetarian. Oh well, she'd never get fat, that's for sure. Vanessa on the other hand was my soul mate. She always seemed to be in tune with what I was thinking.

Jake and Ginger seemed make a good couple. I was glad for Ginger, because Jake really was one of the good guys. I was glad for Jake too, because I knew he had one hell of good fuck. He obviously adored her and doted on her. He seemed like such a kid with her. About a month after Vanessa and I announced our engagement, Ginger began sporting an engagement ring.

Jake asked me if he could get his key back. The crowded flophouse he was living in was no place to take a girl, especially your fiancée. In fact it was ribald dump. The other guys never gave them much privacy. They leered at her and made crude remarks. More than once his roommates quietly opened his door, and gathered around to watch them make love. Ginger didn't deserve that kind of crap. I said, "What the hell," and gave him the key. Soon Vanessa and I were sharing the apartment with Jake and Ginger, listening to the spare bed banging against the wall while they listened to Vanessa's energetic vocalizations.

A month or so before graduation, Vanessa timidly broached the anal question. As I had expected, she had talked to Ginger, extensively.

"Ginger says that you're not at all like Jake. I knew that. She said she's had to train him to use different positions instead of just laying her out and slamming her. I know what she means. She tries to make him take his time and do it right. As for the anal thing, Ginger said that you really do know how to do it right. That you make it feel incredibly good. She told me the best time is right after a shower when everyone is fresh and clean. She said you always used lots of lubricant, and that was important. She also said you always took it slow and made sure it didn't hurt."

My mind raced through the possibilities for that evening. She bit her lower lip and continued. "You're so big though. I'm afraid it'll really hurt."

I leaned towards her with a mischievous smirk. "Hey, my pecker is no bigger than a big ole turd."

"Oh David, don't be so disgusting!"

"No, it's true. You know, like when you haven't shit in a day or two and you get that heavy feeling. Then you go and sit and sit, grunt and groan. Eventually your asshole widens enough to let that big ole turd slide through. Then it snaps shut. The key is to stretch and relax the anal sphincter. Relax it enough so that my cock can slip in."

She looked away and gathered her courage. "Okay, if you want, I'm ready to try it."

We were planning our wedding the weekend that we graduated and it was only a few weeks away. I turned her down. "No, we'll save it for our honeymoon. That way, when I take your virginity, you'll be my wife, an honest women."

She looked crestfallen. After all her mental preparations I had turned her down. Then she smiled. "You're such a romantic sweetheart. Yeah, let's save it until then."

Three weeks I could do. Little did she know that if it were six weeks, I wouldn't have waited a moment longer to pop her ass.

The very next day I got a great job offer from a national engineering firm headquartered in Rockford. The salary offer and package nearly bowled me over. It was as much money as I expected to earn after three or four years, and that was for starters. Mr. Jameson, a vice president and the man who interviewed me told me that the deciding factor between me and another student was the recommendation I got from old Professor Lake. Lake had been Jameson's mentor years ago, and he regarded the old man's word as the gospel. I cringed to think how close I came to blowing it. I made it over to Lake's office and thanked him.

"You're bright and creative, Allen. You have what takes, but I warn you, when you're on the job, you have to focus on the job and shut out the other distractions in your life."

"Thanks, Prof, I'll remember that."

"By the way Allen, I understand that you are engaged to that beautiful lady I have been seeing you with lately. Congratulations son and best of luck." I left the office, loving that old fart.

I had told Mr. Jameson that I was getting married and was going on my honeymoon before I started work. He said, "That's fine David. Report to work on July fifth. By the way, I'm sending you a check for $4,000 to buy a decent wardrobe and to cover the deposit and first months rent on a decent apartment.

"We wear coat and tie at the office and expect our associates to look businesslike and prosperous. Buy yourself a few good suits, lightweight wool, none of that polyester crap. I suggest a solid charcoal gray, and a navy blue suit to start with. A glen plaid is another good choice. Get yourself a pair of black wing tips and buy only long sleeved shirts. I know it's hotter than hell in the summer, but no short sleeve shirts. I suggest button-down oxfords, white, cream and light blue. Ties make a statement; so don't buy some cheap piece of crap from a dime store. In fact, that goes for everything you wear to work."

My world was perfect and I had much to look forward too. The final weeks passed quickly, what with all that was going on. Jake and Ginger agreed to stand in our wedding, provided we got back from our honeymoon in time to stand in theirs. He made a handsome Best Man and Ginger was a lovely Maid of Honor. We filled the other slots with her sorority sisters and anyone I could talk into getting into a tux.

Vanessa's family went all out on the wedding and spent a small fortune. The gown alone cost more than a year's tuition. They had the money and went all out with a huge rehearsal dinner, limousines, a church, flowers galore, and a first class reception afterwards. My parents, who were well off, were as stunned as I was at the extravagance. On top of all that, her dad gave her a brand new Mercedes for a graduation present and handed me a ten thousand dollar check for our wedding present as well.

My dad was a little embarrassed and countered, "David, have a great honeymoon. I don't know what you plan, but when the bills come in, send them to me." I was floored. My dad was as tight fisted as they came.

I had known that Vanessa's folks were reasonably well off, but a Mercedes for a graduation gift? I discretely asked her just where did her dad get all of his dough. She told me that he owned a chain of upscale furniture stores, Designer House and had about a dozen stores scattered throughout the state. That was the first I'd ever heard of it. It had never occurred to me to ask about her parents other than, "How's your mom and dad?" Somehow I had married rich.

The bachelor party that Jake's roomies arranged following the rehearsal dinner was raunchy affair. The squalor in that pigsty of a house was unbelievable! Highlight of the party was when they brought in a girl, don't remember her name, for a gang bang. She was a full-bodied lass, voluptuous, but no great beauty. To the catcalls and hoots of the assembled men, she stripped while she danced on a sturdy coffee table. She shimmied down and picked up a long neck beer bottle, first in her cunt and then with her asshole! I'd never seen anything like it before. Soon the guys began ganging up on her until she had one guy in each hole while jacking off two other guys.

Jake handed me a condom before pulling her away from the guys long enough for her to treat me to a 'round the world'. I was drunk enough to do it while everyone cheered me on. She started with a blowjob, working her studded tongue across my dick. She slipped the condom on me for a straight fuck before rolling over to ass fuck until I shot off. She pulled the filthy condom from my dick and finished me off with another blowjob while fingering my ass. While I was getting my second blowjob, Bubba skewered her in the ass. What a slut!

I took a taxi home that night feeling no pain. Next morning wasn't as pleasant. Those bastards had me drinking Boiler Makers, beer with a shot of cheap whiskey. I blew my guts for what seemed like an hour. My head throbbed and my stomach was queasy as I dragged my ass to the chapel suffering from alcohol poisoning. I felt better though when I saw her walking down the aisle to join me at the altar. After a glass or three of champagne at the reception, I was feeling a lot better. The reception was great, but I was relieved when we finally climbed into the limo for the ride to the airport.

We caught a commuter flight to Rockford, where we caught the last flight of the day to Cancun. Now the wedding was her deal and I didn't interfere with or get involved with the plans, I just accepted my orders and showed up at the designated places at the designated times. The honeymoon, on the other hand, was my deal and Vanessa grudgingly accepted that and she didn't know anything more than that we were headed to Cancun.

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