Looking for Miss Right Pt. 02

"Okay. If you say so."

"Um, one request from Monica, bring a bathing suit. We'll be swimming after dinner."

"Really?"

"Yep."

Coyly, she replied, "What if I don't want to?"

"That's okay. If you don't want to wear a bathing suit, Monica won't care, and I definitely won't."

"That's not what I meant, smarty."

"I know that."

We spent the late evening at the pool, talking, getting to know each other better. Though Chelsea downplayed it, I could tell she was a very talented, very successful graphic designer. When we tired of being outside, we called it a night and headed for bed - separate beds.

I slept like a baby.

Sunday, we made breakfast together and talked about the upcoming week, comparing work schedules and itineraries, getting in synch. By three p.m., Chelsea insisted she had to get ready for our dinner with Monica. She was worried about making a good impression. I know she was nervous and feeling threatened by her, but I was hoping this visit would resolve that, and was concerned it could make things worse if it didn't go well.

When we arrived at Monica's, she was waiting for us, and greeted me with a hug, then turned to Chelsea and reached out to embrace her, surprising Chelsea I think. They hugged, then Monica held her at arm's length.

"Wow, you are a stunner, dear. I can see why Jonah is so taken with you. Come in, come in. They're putting the first course on the table now."

She hooked Chelsea's arm and headed up the steps, chatting as they went. I followed, taking in the view of the two from the rear - not a bad view at all.

Over dinner, an exquisite meal, Monica spent most of the time getting to know Chelsea.

"Jonah tells me you're a graphic designer. Would I be familiar with any of your work?"

"I don't know. Over the past few years, I've done quite a bit for local businesses and publications."

Monica asked for some examples, and as Chelsea named some, Monica interrupted her.

"You know, honey, those are my stores you just mentioned."

"No, I didn't know."

"Yes, and I remember your work. You're good. You know, I'm opening up a new boutique later this year. I'd like you to work with my advertising team for that."

"I'd be honored, but you don't have to do that because of..."

"Nonsense. I'm offering because you do damned good work. It's settled. Now I understand you're moving all your things to Jonah's tomorrow?"

"Yes," Chelsea answered, "We're getting a truck and..."

"Do you have furniture?"

"Yes, part of the furnishings are mine."

"Well, I'll send Paco with a truck to help."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It's settled, now how about dessert?" Monica signaled the waitstaff, who brought out the best tiramisu I've ever had.

After dinner, we changed into our swimwear, and as soon as Chelsea and I were alone, she started.

"My gosh, she's formidable."

I laughed, "Don't I know it. And Chelsea, she really likes you."

"I like her. She's not what I expected, and I can see why you guys are friends. You have a very natural, easy relationship, which honestly, I'm jealous of."

"Well, I will tell you again, not to be, but I do understand."

I had yet to see Chelsea in a bathing suit, and when she came out of the bathroom, I was floored. I hadn't seen her like this since the wedding. Her bikini was not ostentatious, but nonetheless exposed a lot of flesh. The top tastefully cradled her large bosom, displaying her breasts in a manner that accentuated there beauty, their shape and fullness. Her panty dipped down in front but fully covered her vulva area. It was cut high on the sides but swooped down to cover and cup her full, firm buttocks. The deep-blue material contrasted nicely with her light skin tone and was truly eye-catching.

"Is this okay?" she asked, "Do you think it will meet with Monica's approval."

"Of course it will. But I don't care. It meets with my approval. You could be on the cover of Sports Illustrated!"

Chelsea blushed and came up and hugged me, whispering in my ear, "I'm glad you approve."

"Come on, let's go enjoy the evening, the water, and the company."

"Let me get my cover up first," she said and slipped on a diaphanous, three-quarter length, blue, robe-type coverup that was open in front - altogether lovely.

We headed to the pool and Monica was having our drinks brought out. She was wearing one of her tasteful, two-piece creations in a kind of cornflower-blue and light powder-blue swirl design, with a gauzy, powder-blue coverup that hung just below her buttocks. She looked lovely. I felt like a frog in the company of two princesses.

"Wow, you're a stunning creature, honey. I'd kill for that body." Monica remarked.

Chelsea got flustered, and flushed red down to her decolletage, "Thank you, Monica. I love your ensemble, and I'm honestly jealous. You are beautiful..."

"Oh please, honey. I'm a skinny old woman next to you."

"Okay, girls, enough," I joked, "You're both awesome. Let's have a cold drink. I'm hot...from the weather and from looking at the two of you."

Monica laughed, "You gotta love him, don't you?"

"Yes you do, and I do," Chelsea replied.

"I can tell you do, honey. Here, let's toast to you two," she said as she handed us tall glasses of some kind of tropical-themed cocktails with fresh pineapple wedges.

After we toasted, I proposed, "Now let's toast to the three of us. May we always be the best of friends."

Monica remarked, "Absolutely."

We chatted and Monica and Chelsea got better acquainted, sharing tidbits about me and laughing. I was not entirely enthralled with being the brunt of their jokes, but I was elated that they were getting along so well. As the heat became uncomfortable, Monica directed us to the pool and the two women removed their coverups and we dove in the cool water.

"So you were a swimmer in college," Monica said to Chelsea.

"Yes, but with my shape, I couldn't compete at the top level. I held my own, otherwise."

"I'll bet you did. I was a swimmer, too, and didn't do too bad."

"I think I hear a race in the making," I joked.

"I'm game," Monica replied.

Chelsea surprised me, "Okay."

Monica asked, "What about you?"

"No thanks. I've already been beaten by both of you. I'll officiate. How many laps?"

"How about six?" Monica proposed.

"Sounds good," Chelsea agreed.

"Okay, six down and back," I stated.

"What's the winner get?" I asked.

Monica got a sly smile, "A make out session with you."

I think Chelsea was shocked, but she agreed, "You're on."

I was shocked, but proud of her.

I called the start and they pushed off. They both have magnificent form and as they approached the first lap, they were neck and neck, then gradually, Chelsea developed a lead, but on the last lap, she faded a little and Monica touched just ahead of her.

As they hung on the side, I called it, "Monica by a hair."

Monica immediately sniped, "You held back, you stinker; you cheated."

"No, you beat me," Chelsea claimed.

"Bullshit girl. You had me and we both know it. Why?"

"Call it a gift," Chelsea replied, coyly and smiled.

"You're something, young lady. Are you sure?"

Chelsea grinned, "I'm sure," and waved a hand towards me, "To the victor go the spoils."

"I'm not going pass it up, honey."

"Go ahead."

Monica swam to the steps and got out of the pool, walked up to me and wrapped her arms around me, "Make it good, sweetie," she said, a bit lustfully.

I did. I wrapped her up and we kissed and ran our hands over each other.

Finally, Chelsea intervened, "Okay, I have to call time, before you two get carried away," she laughed, nervously.

We broke our embrace and Monica turned to Chelsea, "Doll, that was pretty sweet of you. And he's all yours now."

We sat and had another drink, then called it a night.

"Don't be strangers," Monica remarked as we said our goodbyes, then kissed each of us on the cheek.

IV. GOING SLOW?

When we got home, Chelsea suggested showers, and we each headed to our rooms.

I stripped down, went to my shower and set the temp, then got under the water to start soaping up. I felt hands on my back. I turned and Chelsea had joined me.

"I thought we'd shower together, then if you don't object, I thought we could make love," she said in a sultry voice.

"You're not going to get an argument from me."

We took a luxurious shower, taking turns washing each other. I spent extra time shampooing and working conditioner into her long, thick mane of hair. Afterwards, we dried off, and she used a hair dryer to get her hair mostly dry, then we headed for my bed. She stretched out on the bed, and I was again enthralled, captivated by her beautiful body, the contours of her torso and hips forming a classic hour-glass shape; her rich, dark auburn hair fanned out around her angelic face; and her smooth, but well-muscled legs. Her dense mound of pubic hair was the identical color of hair and slightly curly. As she opened her legs, I was treated to the sight of her labia and vagina for the first time. I felt a tremor run through my body. Her labia were moderate in size and her inner labia featured dark, pinkish-taupe lips, slender and moderately long. I crawled between her smooth thighs and went to work; though it promised to be a pleasant job.

As I positioned myself and started to slip my hands under her buttocks, she lifted her hips and handed me a pillow, which I slipped underneath her. I slowly engaged her vagina, licking and nibbling, then tonguing the pink center, pushing my tongue as deep as I could into that sweet orifice. She smelled and tasted divine - not all women do, even after showering. Her lips were already wet from her own moisture, and mixed with mine, they were instantly slick. As she moaned and twitched in response to my ministrations, she softly directed me on what she wanted. I liked that a lot. It makes it a lot easier to please a woman who is actively involved in the process.

"Oh yes, mm hmm, like that; you can lick around my clit. I'm not too sensitive; yeah, like, ungh, like that."

"She filled her hands with my hair, and gently pressed my face into her sex, then informed me I could go lower if I liked. I engaged her pucker, licking and poking with my tongue, then alternating between that, her vagina and clitoris. With her feet planted beside me, she arched her hips up, firmly pressing her vagina into my face and I began working her clit in earnest, still gently, lightly, but directly engaging her little nub. She started bucking her hips and informing me of her impending climax.

"Oh gosh, oh yes, ah, ah, yes; work the clit, suck on it; I'm close...close, oh fuck, yes, yes..."

I sucked and diddled her with my tongue, and she dropped her butt and wrapped her legs up high on my back, tilting her pelvis up. I took the opportunity to wet a finger in her vagina, then probed her anus, pushing slowly in increments. She began jinking her hips and mounting her climax.

She came hard, bucking her hips, curling her torso up, her face and decolletage red, and the cords on her neck, standing out. I could no longer stay attached to her clit, so I rammed two fingers into her sopping wet pussy and jacked them in unison with the finger I had in her anus, till she exploded.

Oh fuck! Now, suck hard! OH-OH-UNGH-YES...JACK THOSE FINGERS, NOW! AGHHH!"

As she came down, spasmodically twitching and trembling, I crawled up and engaged her in a wet kiss, pressing my body against her full, soft breasts. She initiated rolling us over, and when she was on top, she put her hands on my shoulders and gave me a smoldering look.

"I want to fuck you like this, is that okay?"

"How could it not be," I answered.

She found my almost erect cock and began rubbing it on her wet slit, then pressed it against her vagina. She began to drop down, and my cock bent a little from the pressure. She wiggled and worked the head till it finally slipped past her vaginal opening.

"Oh shit! That's a big salami, big head; I love it, ungh...Oh yes, oh, oh, ungh, fuck," she exclaimed as she bottomed out. She sat there for several moments adjusting to my girth, and lightly working her vaginal muscles. I went rock solid and reflexively started to thrust up, but she placed a hand on my lower abdomen, stopping me.

"I'll tell you when," she moaned as she started slowly riding me.

For several minutes she rode me that way, gradually speeding up, bouncing harder as she went, stabbing her cervix. Then she flopped forward on me, jacking her hips, and clenching her vaginal muscles, approaching her climax.

"Oh fuck, take over," she groaned.

I grabbed her hips and immediately started thrusting, slamming up against her. In less than a minute, she started spasming, her body shaking as I pounded her. She started grunting and swearing. I started thrusting, rapid fire.

"UNGH, FU-U-CK-CUM-M-MING...AGHH-AH-AH-AGHHH!

Her climax slammed into her and I kept pounding her as my own climax overwhelmed me and I started shooting, unloading into her tight, slippery vagina.

"AGHH, FUCK! I exclaimed and continued to thrust and spasm. It was a glorious first time; at least that I was fully aware of, compared to our first coupling.

Both of us sweating and huffing, we collapsed, Chelsea dropping her body on me, panting and twitching.

"Damn, baby, I think you killed me, but what a glorious death," she exclaimed between breaths.

We made love two more times, after which I was completely and wonderfully spent.

At two in the morning, we were both famished, and after showering, we made pancakes; then we cooled off in the pool, lazily swimming around, and cuddling. But pancakes must be an aphrodisiac, because before long, we found ourselves making love again. Afterwards, we were spent and exhausted. We crashed without even showering.

V. MORE DRAMA

At seven a.m., I was awakened by a call from Monica.

"Sounds like I woke you," she remarked, "Well, wake up sleepy head. Give me Chelsea's address and I'll have Paco meet you there."

I woke Chelsea and put her on the phone as I didn't know her address.

"So, how was it?" she asked, surprising Chelsea.

"What?"

"Oh, come on..."

"Fucking fabulous," she responded.

"He can fuck, can't he?"

"Brother, you said it."

"I'm going to miss that," Monica admitted.

"Well, sorry, but like you said, he's mine now."

"You don't have to be selfish," she kidded, or maybe not.

"Anyway, I'll tell Paco to be to your house at ten, okay?"

"Yes, that's great, thanks."

We met Paco, just before ten, and started loading up. He showed up with a large van, and we started with her furniture, then began loading the rest of the belongings. Just before eleven, a big, handsome, young-looking guy came sliding to a stop in front of the house. He came around the back of the truck and immediately started verbally accosting Chelsea as she walked out with a box and was setting it on the lift gate. Paco and I were just coming out of the house.

"What the fuck! Wasting no time, are you bitch!" Tim hollered.

"Hey, knock it off," I shouted, getting his attention.

"You must be lover boy. Well shut the fuck up. This is between me and the bitch."

"Not anymore, shithead," I barked as I dropped my box and headed for him.

"You want a piece of me, mother fucker," he postured, and headed to meet me.

"Yeah, dickless, bring it," I answered to goad him.

"COCKSUCKER!" he yelled.

As we met, he pulled back with his right arm, telegraphing a straight jab.

I gave a quick fake to the right then dodged left. His punch just clipped my ear as I threw a left hook into his side, right in the kidney, freezing him, then instantly followed with a hard, left hook to the side of his jaw, snapping his head around. He staggered, and I stayed on him, slamming a fist into his midsection as hard as I could. He doubled over and dropped to the ground on his hands and knees.

He grunted out, "Fucker, you're dead!" and started to stand.

I gave him a hard uppercut square to the face, snapping his head back. He dropped to the ground, smacking his face into the concrete, out cold.

"Paco, you got anything to tie him up with?"

"Yeah, man. I got rope."

He went and grabbed some rope from the cab of the truck, came back, whipped out a knife and cut off a length, then tied his hands together behind his back. Paco then helped me drag him into the house and we propped him up against a wall in the living room.

We finished loading up, and I went in and got a glass of water, splashed it on his face and waited. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth, and looked pretty messed up from both the punch and landing on the concrete. When he came to, he looked at me with unfocused eyes.

"Tim, you're done, we're done. Don't even think about bothering Chelsea; don't even think about speaking to her or calling her. Don't get withing a hundred yards of her. She's going to immediately get a restraining order on you, you understand. Now, I'm going to call an ambulance for you, and I'm going to call the cops. You can tell them whatever you want. Just remember it's your word against the three of us."

I untied him and he sat there bleeding, no more fight in him. The police got there first and we explained what happened, that he assaulted me - fortunately, my ear was bleeding. We explained that he wouldn't stop and I had to take him down. When the cops got to him, he sealed his fate.

"The fucking bitch distracted me and that fucker sucker-punched me, then beat me while I was down."

They were less than impressed.

We informed the police we were pressing charges. Chelsea for verbal abuse and making physical threats (from previous altercations), and I for the assault (though I encouraged it - I left that tidbit out).

After the EMT's arrived and treated him, they took him to the hospital for further medical treatment. The police followed the ambulance to the hospital. We headed to my house. Paco helped get everything in and get it situated, putting all the furniture in the garage for the time being. Afterwards, we all sat and had a couple beers. I knew Monica was paying him, but I tipped him a 100 before he left.

After Tim was issued a restraining order, Monica sent her 'private investigator' (more like an enforcer) to visit Tim and explain the consequences of violating the restraining order in any fashion. He paid us a visit afterwards, and gave us a brief rundown of how it went. He was a huge son of a gun.

"He won't be bothering you. I carefully explained just exactly what would happen if he did. He understood."

"Thank you Derrick. Would you like a beer?"

"Don't mind if I do."

We sat and chatted, and he informed us that Monica said for us to call if we needed 'help' with any problems in the future. After he left, we grabbed iced teas and went to the deck to relax. As we sat at the patio table, I observed Chelsea. She had been quiet during and after the altercation with Tim, and I wasn't sure how she took it.

I broached the subject, "I'm sorry about what happened, but I couldn't let him get away with how he was addressing you."

"No, I want to thank you. He had it coming, and he was going to be a problem one way or the other, and probably a very bad problem. I wouldn't have put it passed him to get physical with me. He came close a couple times, recently. I'll tell you, though, I was surprised how you took him out so fast. He's a big guy and pretty strong."

"Yeah, that worked against him. He was over confident."

"Well, I was scared, afraid for you. I can see I needn't have worried," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, that's me, real tough guy," I joked.

"Well, tough guy," Chelsea started, then in a Scarlett O'Hara voice, exclaimed,

"I'm feeling faint. Oh, I hope some big strong man will catch me and carry me to bed, then ravage my defenseless, somewhat voluptuous body..."