tagNovels and NovellasThe Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 18d

The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 18d

byPAUL C©

Rubies are Red. Part 4.

Copyright 2003. All rights reserved. All characters and events are fictitious.

Paul.

The one thing I would improve on Jenny if I had the chance would be to give her a more bushy mound of pubic hairs. It's not that she didn't have some but it wasn't exactly thick.

It was nice lying on the sofa. Drifting between asleep and awake. I don't know what time it is. Or how long I've been asleep. I just want to create another picture of Jenny with a bushier mound in my mind. That was better. Dark and thick and curly. She was opening her legs. I felt my prick twitch.

"Ahum."

Somebody was clearing their throat. It wasn't me.

I opened my eyes and looked into Heather's. She was standing at the foot of the sofa.

"The door wasn't locked." She said, looking down with a smile on her lips.

I looked down. My cock and balls, matted in cum lay fully exposed. I pulled up my underpants and trousers as I swung my legs from the sofa and sat there, trying to look as small as possible.

"Don't be embarrassed." She continued. "It's my own fault. I should have rung the bell."

I needed to stand up to fasten everything properly.

"I need to stand up." I stammered.

"Ok." She stood looking me. "Come on. I've already seen it. I thought we might have dinner together as we are going to be together for a while."

I stood up and turned my back on her while I put everything back in place and fastened my trousers.

"Have you ever been there?" She asked.

"Oh. Where?" I turned to face her, I knew my face was bright red. "The restaurant? Yes, I've been there."

"Do you want to?" She asked.

I thought for a second. I could stay at home and cook myself something. I knew it would end up being a fried egg sandwich. Go out on my own? Avoiding the restaurant of course. Or go with Heather.

"Yes." I replied. "Why not?"

I tried not to sound too keen.

She smelled nice from three yards distance.

"I was going to have a quick shower." I said.

"Yes." She smiled. "It would probably be best. I'll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes."

"OK."

She turned her back on me and I watched her walk down the short corridor to the front entrance. She had a nice back. She was wearing a short, pale blue dress, the 'v' in the back just low enough to suggest she wasn't wearing a bra beneath it. She had nice full ass cheeks. The skirt of her dress lifted and fell on either side with each step she took.

She closed the door behind herself and I hurried into the bedroom to collect my wash-bag, strip naked and head into the bathroom.

Strange about the door? I could of sworn I'd dropped the button. It was a dead lock as well. I switched on the taps on the sink. A quick shave was in order. I looked into the mirror. My eyes were probably the best feature that was reflected back. Pale blue with a yellow line around the centre. I could do with a haircut. Not that it was long as everyday standards went but it was getting straggly. My nose didn't seem to lie quite straight, either that or my eyes-brows weren't.

I splashed some water onto my face in preparation for my shaving cream. I looked down at my left wrist as I opened my wash-bag. The scars where I had been bitten by the Black Panther in Carole's Aunt's home in Yorkshire still showed clearly. I had been lucky it hadn't bitten through it. What a night that had been. Standing helpless, watching through the window whilst Small had raped Carole's lesbian lover Jo. Then as he had made her go down on Carole whilst he pushed the twin barrels of his shotgun up inside her fanny.

I could still hear Carole's screams as he had tied her to a bed and buggered her. At least that had given me the chance to get in and untie the others before going to the bedroom and wrestling with him for control of the weapon.

I squeezed some shaving cream from its tube and worked up a lather. I applied it and quickly shaved.

In the shower my fingers touched the scars left by the shotgun pellets that had struck it when it had gone off as I had wrestled with the younger Rogers son. The two of them had been pursuing Jenny across the wet moors in Yorkshire. I had pulled Louise from the Rogers' burning house and had beaten out the flames on her hair with my hands. At least those wounds had been mostly superficial, for me at least. Old man Rogers had raped Louise at least once while she had been tied to a bed and had started to torture her with a knife. There had been a fight and the fire had started. Then Jenny had led the sons away and I had gone after them.

I suddenly felt a little nauseous as I remembered looking down at him as he had lain on the ground at my feet. Most of his arm had lain a little way away. I'd taken my own shirt off and tried to stem the flow of blood with it. Perhaps if I had stayed with him until help arrived he might have lived. But Jenny had needed my help, and I was wounded myself and not thinking clearly.

I shampooed my hair and soaped my body.

The final Rogers son was dead now. Killed in a struggle with Jenny and I over the revolver whilst on our honeymoon. One of another two people lives I might have saved that day. Poor Victoria. She had had the hairiest fanny I had ever seen. Now if only Jenny's were more like that.

I switched off the shower and stepped out taking a towel from the rail. No time to waste. I dried myself as I went back into the bedroom. Quickly dressing I put on my jacket and picked up my coat. It wasn't going to be a very warm evening.

Jenny.

I sat curled up on one end of the large, very comfortable sofa in the living room at Paul's parent's house and sipped my wine. It was a very nice wine. The meal had been very nice as well. Just Mary and myself. We had taken a tray up to David in his bed with his plastered foot and ankle sticking out from beneath the bedclothes. As I had looked down on him, for the first time he appeared to look his age.

I had had visions of the help Mary needed this weekend as I had driven down. I wasn't sure that I really wanted to help out if it came to bodily functions. There had been a time in my fantasies that I would have been only too happy to have taken David in hand or anywhere else he might have wanted to go. But he was already having Shirley behind Mary's back. Well, not quite so far behind her back as he had liked to think.

I was sure Mary knew. And that Shirley knew she knew. I knew. I think David at least suspected Mary knew. In fact about the only person who didn't know was Paul and I didn't have the heart to tell him. He always treated Shirley like a sister. A lot of young men with a girl as good looking as her staying under the same roof would have been tempted to try their luck, but I was certain the thought hadn't crossed his mind.

"Well I think I might go upstairs to bed, if you don't mind." Mary said stifling a yawn. "It has been a trying last few days."

I looked at the clock on the wall. Nine-fifteen. I could ring Paul and talk to him before going to bed myself.

"Not at all." I replied. "You don't mind if I use the phone to ring Paul, do you?"

"Not at all." She smiled.

There was a lot of Paul in that smile. Or a lot of her in Paul's smile.

I walked through the dividing doors that separated the living-room from the dining room and sat down on the chair beside the large buffet where the phone lay. It had been a fun morning. Letting Paul have me twice and then his going down on me at the kitchen table. I had really enjoyed that. I could still feel his tongue as it had swirled around inside me and then as it had flicked my clit from side to side.

I had an itch. I paused in my dialling to scratch my pubic mound through my skirt. That felt better. I crossed my legs feeling the squeezing of my fanny lips as they were squashed together. That suddenly felt uncomfortable so I uncrossed them, allowing the tops of my thighs to fall open.

I finished dialling, conscious that I was feeling warm and moist between my legs. It was ringing in London. Yes it had felt nice when Paul had flicked my clit from side to side with his tongue. I squeezed my pubic mound through my skirt again. That felt nice.

The phone was still ringing in London.

I opened my legs and pulled up the hem of my skirt. I ran a finger along the gusset of my panties and sighed. That was nice. I could feel the wetness of my slit through the cotton material. I rubbed again. I lifted my bottom from the chair momentarily then sat back and smiled.

Yes. I had really enjoyed Paul's tongue against my clit that morning. Sometimes it felt better than having his cock inside me. Only sometimes. There were times a girl needed to feel her man inside her. Feel the power of his thrusts. But sometimes.

I felt warm and relaxed. Sitting there, listening to the purr, purr of the phone ringing in London. Slowly massaging the lips of my fanny through my panties.

I needed something more. Something I knew only too well was building inside me. I slipped my hand inside the top of my panties and felt for my clit. It seemed so large. I pulled it out into the open and caressed it with my fingertip. I breathed deeply letting the air escape with a sigh. I applied more pressure to my clit and began to rub faster. Oh yes. Little ripples of pleasure were washing over me. Yes. I rubbed faster. It was building inside me. Building. Building. Ahh.

The phone was still ringing in London.

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