My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 07

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"Oh. Thank you."

I can feel the tension in her voice and in her body, telling me she has more to say about what's bothering her, but only when she's ready. Five months ago, I would have bulldogged it out of her whether she was ready to talk or not. I've gotten better.

Instead, I just hold her for a while longer. Until...

"Baby?"

"Yes, Hamster Whiskers?"

"Wait, what?"

I nuzzle her hair and neck. "It's the cutest thing I could think of at the moment."

"Oh. Okay." She starts again. "Kay, why aren't you mad at me for wanting to be with Nic?"

Her voice is small. It's usually the voice she uses when I've inadvertently hurt her...

And again, I'm an idiot. Damnit. I've upset her by not being upset enough to make her feel safe.

"Jenny, I'm not mad because I'm not threatened by you wanting to be with another woman physically." I pull her in close, loving her feminine smell, hair, and skin, loving the way her body fits so perfectly with mine, and loving that she's so concerned over what I feel for her.

Unfortunately, she's so concerned that she's now worried that I may not care as deeply as she thinks, because I don't get jealous at the thought of her having sex with Nic. Affecting a pretended jealousy occurs to me of course, but that would be both disingenuous and disadvantageous.

Luckily and unluckily, I'm vulnerable to her feelings and actions in other ways that I can communicate to her instead. "If you wanted to stay with Nic though, I mean if you didn't want to share your life with me anymore, Angel, I'd be devastated."

She shifts in my arms and burrows her head beneath my chin. Her arms wrap around me. Her hands and forearms slide under the back of my jacket and shirt for skin-on-skin contact. And she snoozes, more at ease.

Human emotions are weird. In this case, because she loves me so deeply, my perceived thoughts can hurt her, but the knowledge that I love her so much that she can hurt me equally soothes her. Normal feelings seem to follow an odd paraconsistency that I'm able to tap into, but never confidently prove.

I'm still contemplating human nature when the music is interrupted briefly by my phone receiving a text. I groan and half roll away, one arm still trapped beneath my sleepyheaded girl, to check my damned phone.

"We're all here. Settle a bet. Are you guys fighting or fucking?"

Teeg's texts are uniformly offensive. She uses proper grammar and punctuation though, so it's okay with me.

"Neither. We're trying on the stuff I bought. Be down in a few."

I hug my spent lover to me, petting her silky hair. So she groans, because she guesses at the content of my texting.

"We have to get up, huh?"

"Yeah. C'mon. Let's get you back dressed."

I gather all our stuff and put the room back in order. She still doesn't move. I stare at her until she grows uncomfortable.

"Don't wanna," she states the obvious.

Disinterested in debating at the heightened philosophical level of "don't wanna" - and given that she's so physically exhausted as a result of my actions - I redress her myself like a life sized and incredibly flexible barbie doll, determinedly ignoring her grumbling all the while.

Fully dressed, she still makes no move to leave the warmed bed. I worry that she mightn't be able, in addition to being clearly unwilling. "If you don't want to head downstairs to see everyone, you can stay here." I crawl back onto the bed next to her and kiss the side of her neck. "I can stay with you to 'keep you company.' We can head to the bar later, separately from the girls."

"But that would be rude?" she posits. "Especially since Anne just got back and we just met?"

"A little," I admit, "but no one would blame you." The girls would all think - rightly - that I'd tired her out. Or that I'd not finished getting busy for the afternoon yet. Either way, they'll blame me.

My girlfriend's embarrassment that our friends know we have sex nearly everyday is lessened because they also believe that those acts are primarily initiated by me. And I'm glad for her sake.

Nonetheless, it seems a little unevolved to assume that I'm the constant aggressor in our intimate relations just because I'm more dominant. Or because I have a historically high sex drive and historically low standards outside of looks. Or that I used to sleep around with multiple women regularly in addition to picking up strange women. Or that I'd often skip or leave group outings to go get laid.

Okay, so maybe it is reasonable to assume that it's always me pushing for sex based on what they know about us and how we act as a couple, but it's not true. Sure, she's less overt and assertive - preferring me to take charge generally - but part of why she and I are so well-matched is because we have similarly high sex drives. Whatever opinions my poorly informed friends may hold, she wants it as much as I do.

We've all been friends too long for me to care whether or not they think well of me in all respects though, so it doesn't matter to me that they honestly believe that I burden her with my voracious appetite. She, on the other hand, has only known the girls for a few months and is more naturally insecure. She cares.

"Grr-umph. I should be friendly," she concludes. "Okay. Okay, I'm getting up." I think she really thinks she is, but she doesn't move appreciably to become vertical. A few moments pass and I smile down at her fondly. "I'm not moving, am I?" My girlfriend huffed.

"Not so much," I chuckle good-naturedly, "but I can help." I stand her up, put one arm around her waist and drape her other arm over my shoulders, holding that hand with mine. Without a free hand, I just leave my shopping bags behind. I can always get them later.

With sort of weekend-at-Bernie's style support, I get her down the stairs. If my friends find it funny that she's unable to stand on her own or say much more than hello, they're smart enough to keep their mirth to themselves for the moment.

"So, Anne brought the rough cut of the documentary that Dr. Bryce edited together. We got a few hours before we need to leave..." Melody trails off, leaving space for a rejection that she doesn't expect.

Speaking of human nature, Melody generally runs the group, but hates to be directive.

"Perfect." I don't mind being directive at all, but don't so much enjoy planning our activities. It's a dynamic that works. (It may be a large part of why Melody and I are still friends after so many years of my relentless unwelcomed flirting.)

Everyone but Teeg appears to be fully onboard anyway. She's a good sport about it, but a look crosses her face like she wishes she'd just met us all at the bar later.

I'm legitimately interested. Anne has been working on the oceanography study for the past six months and it'll be enlightening to see her work laid out in a logical sequence instead of the random hyper phone calls I'd been receiving at all hours. Plus, it will give my tired girlfriend a chance to nap unobtrusively.

We all head into the screening room with its huge 30ft film projection wall and many rows of expensive black leather recliners ascending steeply in amphitheater seating. Without delay, I walk my girl to the big comfy chair at the far end of the first row and arrange her in my lap with a light fleece blanket wrapped around her. I have my hands over the blanket, one arm around her upper body and the other hand sort of under her thighs. Her head immediately drops to my shoulder.

There are a few looks of mirth at that, but nothing vocalized.

Nic, ever the good hostess, opens a bottle of red from the corner wine cooler and starts passing out glasses. Her eyebrow goes up delicately when I decline to drink. Teeg grins ear-to-ear.

"You're turning down a glass?" Anne asks, actually greatly surprised at my abstaining and not directly insulting me for being a lush.

"Yeah, I got a bit too tore up last night. I figure that I'll give the ol' liver a night off." A weak - but socially acceptable - lie.

"That's smart." Anne seems mildly impressed, as though I'd discovered a way to shave a few minutes off my morning commute to work.

"Our Kay is all grown up and looking to avoid liver disease." Melody echoes, more proudly.

"We were going to watch the documentary?" Arianne gestures with her glass, getting us back on track.

Nic hardly hits the play button before her cell and mine vibrate a text alert.

Again, not as rude as it sounds. Stopping everyone from speaking during the course of a film has proven nigh on impossible, to the point where shock collars were only half-jokingly considered. We're all equally guilty of distracting whispers and inappropriate snickers, so, by longstanding agreement, texting is allowed and encouraged with dimmed screens and phones set to vibrate.

"What are you doing to her?" Teeg is not subtle.

She and Nic both know that the only time I won't drink socially is when I am (or will be) exercising control over a girl. I think it's irresponsible and dangerous to do so when impaired.

"Dual vibrators for the night. Off at the moment. Handcuffs and orgasm denial later." It's more efficient to answer honestly immediately, because they will badger me until I confess.

"I knew you were fucking her upstairs. Nic, you owe me a free shot."

"shocking you won a bet that kay was fucking" Even Nic - who at least recognizes my girlfriend as a sexual being - assumes that I have my poor long-suffering Jenny bent over any chance I get and that she tolerates satisfying the frequency of my desires out of her pure selflessness.

"On that note, can I borrow the key to your office for the night?" I ask.

"same deal as always"

"Done." I agree. Our standing arrangement requires little of me and is well worth the location.

"Hey, I was going to borrow the office tonight." Teeg is ever the optimist.

"Regular girlfriend trumps random skank in the hierarchy of locational privacy," I assert.

"any slut still nieve enough to hook up with you at my bar will prbly do it in the bathroom anyway"

"But we already know for sure that Jenny will get with Kay wherever she wants."

"Careful, Teeg."

"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Teeg immediately disavows her earlier text and also gestures apologetically.

I nod forgiveness. I can't very well get proper pissed every time Teeg suggests that my submissive nympho girlfriend is a submissive nympho, at least not without being hypocritical.

Teeg sets her phone down, but Nic fires off one more message to me.

"are we good"

"We're good. You and I are good. You and Jenny are good. Jenny and I are good. No worries."

":)"

The Anne onscreen tells us about how underwater fissures change localized temperatures, but have little effect over distance depending on the depth of the water and size of the fissure.

Apparently, anytime a foundational concept needs to be explained to an audience that's assumed interested and intelligent, Anne's chosen for the task. Part of why is probably that she has a pleasant voice and a clear manner of speaking, but most of it might be that she's the only smoking-hot oceanographer in the history of the field and the filmmaker hopes to capture the attention of the disinterested and unintelligent as well.

She looks good, even on the huge screen, with her clear pale complexion and naturally ruley straight white blonde hair. Moreover, her love for her subject matter is obvious in her animation, which is always even sexier in an already attractive woman.

Onscreen Anne is replaced by the driest professor you've ever sat through, so Melody calls intermission. Teeg, Nic, and Adrianne all run for snacks and bathroom breaks.

I'm pleasantly trapped beneath my sleeping beauty, if growing slightly overwarm, so I take the opportunity to compliment Anne.

"Excellent project. You really seem to be in your element on camera, too."

"Thank you, but it took forever for me to get that comfortable. I couldn't believe how many portions he wanted me to explain."

"Really? Couldn't figure that one out?" I tease. "You're at par professionally with all the other contributors, and ten times more fuckable. I'm surprised you weren't asked to read all their statements on camera while they wore paper bags on their heads."

They both laugh, neither really disagreeing. The others return and laugh as well, as soon as the joke is repeated to them.

Anne gets me back though, "Please. If the film morphs into me proving that I'd murdered Jimmy Hoffa with a marshmallow in a plot to rule Bulgaria using a time-traveling unicorn who ate only woolen socks, the headline story would still be that you have a girl in your lap and your hands areover the blanket."

There's a group braying at that and I'm forced to just smile and shake my head in acceptance. Hyperbole aside, it's a fair statement.

"Right?" Melody agrees. Whenever either Melody or Anne returns from a trip, the other is most happy to have back another semi-discrete individual that wholly agrees with her in every way.

"Seriously though, how is this happening?" Anne refers to both my immediate discretion and my budding relationship.

A hard question. How to describe the way she's changed my outlook on life-long romantic relationships through her constance and tenderness? Or how to express how utterly and irrevocably enamored I am of the sweet, vulnerable, affectionate, sexy, witty woman in my lap?

I shrug and look down at her as she sleeps angelically. My love, my love, my love. "She keeps me warm."

"Fair enough." Adrianne answers quickly for the group. "Let's find out why underwater sand deposits and bleached coral can be indicative of climate change."

"You were the kiss-ass in every one of your classes, huh?" Teeg pokes the shrink.

"I was usually the teacher's pet, yes, you little juvenile fucking delinquent." Adrianne sets the psychiatrist persona aside as needed.

Teeg shrugs at another fair hit and Nic gets up to pour another round and start the movie.

"Really," Anne fills the silence and gestures inclusively to me and the adorable woman on my lap. "I am loving this. Do you guys have a couple name? I guess Kenny and Jay are kind of awkward."

"And Kennifer sounds like a confusing transitional stage in Kenneth's life," Teeg jokes.

"How about Jenleigh? Or Jayleigh?" Melody suggests.

"Oooh. I like Jayleigh." Anne agrees with Melody. (I know, shocking.)

"More like Jen-lay-sss, right?" Teeg gets punchy when forced to view educational material for too long.

Not entirely sure if my girl had been insulted, the room - including Teeg - looks to me. Trouble is, I'm not sure either. I decide to remain noncommittal.

"I have nothing to throw at her." I admit and shrug. Jenny groans softly, since her head is still pillowed against my shrugging shoulder.

Thwack! "Ow. Fuck, Nic." Our lovely hostess pegs Teeg in her spiky blue hair with a thrown wine cork. I imagine all the product used to harden her hair into points softened the blow. It's funny when the mild violence is directed *not* at me, so I laughed heartily with Teeg and the rest of the girls.

[I think we'll all end up agreeing that every case of "mild violence" I've directed at Kay has been entirely justified. - Nic]

"So how deep is new relationship-y Kay?" Anne inquires. "Are you guys talking about marriage? Kids?" We hadn't, but I'd thought of both and how to talk with my nervous girl about either.

A good thing too, because Jenny's head pops up off my shoulder like toast finishing at Anne's questions. Her cute face is horror-stricken. If I didn't understand her crippling fear of change, I'd be hurt by the extremity of her reaction.

"Obviously not." Nic observes aloud as every phone in the room starts buzzing like we're in a fucking hive. I ignore mine to see to my girlfriend.

Calmingly, I stroke her cheek and her hair with one hand. With the other, I bring her ear near to my lips and shush her sweetly.

"I love you, Jenny. And, I'm happy to 'put a ring on it,' if you want. I've already had Melody draw up paperwork giving you all the access rights and financial protections of a spouse, so a proper wedding would only accomplish putting unavoidable attention on you as a bride," I kiss her earlobe, "Nonetheless, you can officially be my wife - quietly licensed, officiated, and witnessed - inside a week if you ever so choose."

"Okay, Baby." she whispers and nods, comforted by having choices with no deadlines. One down.

One to go. "I don't intend to have kids myself, but I think you'd be a very cute little mommy and I'd support you if you want children. You're only 20 though, so there's no hurry." She nods again, so I finish with a quip to put her at ease. "And you may want to wait until you can reliably remember to feed yourself before you take on a child, Kitten."

She smiles and lays her head back on my shoulder, content for a moment - if only for a moment - as I continue to pet her. Understand that my answers were by no means definitive and worries related to those two questions will pop up for the next few weeks. Notably, they'll be worries that won't seem related at all to me at first.

But a big part of why I love spending so much time with her is the unpredictability inherent in her ways of thinking. I can hardly complain when those same thought processes are applied to a subject that I find inconvenient.

She squirms some in my lap, possibly because she's stiff from sleeping in the same position for so long, but probably because she's hyper-aware of the toys inserted inside her in front of all our friends. Her willingness to indulge my fantasies at the edges of her expanding comfort zone is another big part of why I love spending so much time with her, but her natural shyness makes her skittish with public play.

A simultaneous crimson blush and darting glance around the room confirm my assumption that she's feeling conspicuous. She needs a little reassurance from me, so I lean down to whisper again.

"They don't have x-ray vision, Cuteness. You secret is safe. Doubly so, since I can't reach the remote in my pocket to set you off." I'm sure my roguish grin is evident in my voice. "If you make the mistake of standing though..."

A delicious thrill races through her at the naughtiness of getting a buzz in that way in front of everyone, spurred both by the remote chance of getting found out and the submissiveness of letting me do it to her anyway.

My friends assume that this last exchange is conclusive and, again, Adrianne propels us forward into our activity of the moment and the film actually continues. I get a text from Anne though.

"Sry."

"It's okay. I got her. She knows she can have whatever she wants."

"*Whoo-pish*" Melody chimes in.

"So [whipped emoji]" Anne agrees.

"Watch the fucking movie, you two." I text back to my amused friends. They do, but there are titters.

The girl who has me so "whipped" stirs a bit more as the film continues, or wiggles a bit more to be fully accurate. I fight the urge to start the vibrations now, but stick to my plan despite the temptation. It's enough for the moment that she has nothing but the boring (to her) documentary to keep her from thinking about the two smooth plastic eggs inside her.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Our first fantasy night had been a much more private show. After I'd had my fill of making her dance metaphorically at dinner out anyway.

I remained intentionally silent on the ride home, letting the anticipation build for her. I can never resist keeping my free hand in her lap though and casually caressed her thigh as I drove.

By the time I got her home, the anticipation was getting to me too. I knew the evening would be so much better if I maintained some self-discipline though.

"Thank you." My sexy girlfriend politely intoned as I opened her door.