Centurion

When the couple entered Jezebel's old room, she removed her heavy dress. As usual, she was nude except for her thigh high, knitted stockings. Their Ordnung didn't believe in buying any garments or even elastics from the English. Jeff had discovered his uncle's collection of vintage Penthouse magazines when he was an adolescent. Jezebel's wardrobe choices had always reminded him of those pictorials by Bob Guccione. She left her stockings on for warmth as she crawled into her old bed. Jeff eagerly stripped off his clothes to join her.

Jeff was soon making sweet love to his wife, burying his tongue in her sex. For some reason, he was undaunted by the newfound knowledge that one-hundred-and-thirty-one other men had been granted the honor of plunging their penises into her vagina. He was no longer humiliated by her giggling, gratuitous revelation that many of her previous lovers had been much better endowed than her husband. She had chosen him. The thought that so many billions of sperm had been allowed to swim in her fertile and now fecund womb didn't disturb him.

Soon after Jezebel had climaxed, Jeff was thrusting his bare penis into her warm, wet, welcoming vagina. As she was about to climax again she told him, "its been two weeks since I finally got my period again. I might be fertile. Cum in me husband. Give me your seed." Jeff eagerly complied. He understood that he was reconsecrating their marriage.

As husband and wife cuddled together, they heard the familiar sound of a headboard gently but rhythmically knocking against the wall. Jezebel's parents were making love. The banging finally stopped. Then they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Two people rather than one were climbing upstairs to Sara's room.

It was almost dawn when Jeff and Jezebel were awakened by the rhythmic banging of the headboard against the wall of Sarah's room. Her sister was obviously receptive to her most recent suitor.