Perspectives Series: Jess Pt. 02

Jan pressed her chest forward so that her erect nipples were in my face. I slowly stuck out my tongue and approached one of them. All the while, watching her expression and asking for permission. Finally my tongue reached her skin. I started flicking it back and forth wildly. Her nipples stood completely erect and grew harder. I wrapped my mouth around it and sucked it loudly. She shifted her weight so my head moved to the other side. I repeated the process. Each suck, lick, and slurp, became more frenzied, until I was biting her nipples.

"Yesssssssss." She hissed.

It was obvious she liked it a little rough. It was also obvious that she liked to dictate the action. She would change sides and rock back and forth, or jiggle her breasts to create a certain sensation. She leaned back on her butt, pulling her tits out of reach of my mouth. She slid both of her hands down between her legs and pulled apart her outer lips to expose her clit. It was pink and erect. Her wetness was glistening where she had spread her juices from earlier. She smelled fantastic. I couldn't decide which I wanted to do more: eat her or fuck her.

I gave in and laid my head back on the sofa. My eyes closed and I found myself pleading with her.

"Please...please, stop. I can't take it anymore."

In a low, husky whisper, she said, "What do you want?"

Her hands moved from her pussy lips to my cock and she began rubbing me through my pants, hard. I started to moan. I was very close to coming.

I wanted to reply to her question, but my mind went blank when she began stroking me. I felt my pants begin to loosen and I opened my eyes to discover she had them unbuttoned and unzipped. My dick was poking out of the top of my underwear with pre-cum all over the head.

Jan expertly wrapped her fingers around my shaft beneath my underwear and began stroking it. Her manicured nails would scrape along the base occasionally, giving me a warning that she could hurt me if necessary. Her other hand cupped my balls through the material.

She pulled my underwear down as far as possible without leaving my lap, exposing most of my cock. I admired how hard it was, and red from all the teasing. Jan shifted her weight from her butt to her knees and scooted backward off of my lap. She retrieved her purse, which was on the end table, and fished around for a brief moment before producing a condom. Her attention was back on me. Her hands gripped the waistband of my pants and she began pulling them down to the floor. I didn't dare move my hands to help her. I had just regained some blood flow to them after she had been kneeling on them for so long. She left my pants around my ankles, keeping me bound in a sitting position.

She ripped open the package and placed the tip off the condom in her mouth. She bent over my cock and took it into her mouth, pushing the condom downward onto my shaft. She finished unrolling it downward with her fingers as she went back to straddling my legs. Then she leaned forward until her pussy was positioned over my cock. She firmly gripped my shaft and ran it in circles around the opening of her cunt, spreading all her juices onto the head of the condom. Very deliberately, she sat down so that I was slowly sinking into her warm, wet cunt. The condom served as a method to dull the sensation somewhat, and I was relieved. Otherwise, I would have likely come right away.

She controlled the motion and the rhythm. I kept rhythm with her body and thrusted upward whenever her movement allowed. The tempo increased, and I couldn't hold back any longer. I came violently, banging my head backward against the sofa. Jan only paused for a few moments before gyrating her hips again. She brought her knees up and used her legs to control the up-and-down movement. She could do this much more swiftly with the added help of her leg muscles, and only after a short break, I started to grow firmer inside her.

She held the base of my cock and the condom in place, while she fucked me. The slapping of her butt on my thighs made a loud noise and I wondered for a second what Jeff and Kate thought of it all. The thought didn't linger long, however, as I was approaching my second climax.

I wasn't alone; Jan was close to having an orgasm, too. Her face became contorted and her ability to control the movement was gone. I pulled my hands up from the sofa and gripped her waist so that I could thrust deep inside her. That wasn't enough; I wanted to go deeper. I squeezed Jan's waist harder and hoisted her backward onto the floor, with me on top of her. We barely missed a stroke. I began pounding hard, drilling deep inside her. I could feel the head of my cock ramming the back of her cunt with each stroke.

Jan cried out. There were no words, just sounds. She was having a powerful orgasm. Her arms were flailing about, gripping the carpet, and my shoulders. My arms were wrapped underneath her thighs, holding her knees upward to gain better leverage. I managed to ram my dick into her wet cunt a few more strokes before coming.

We laid there for a few minutes, panting. I reached down to the base of the condom, careful to hold it in place while I withdrew. I hadn't used a condom in awhile, but I was very experienced at using them from my college days. The last thing I need from her is either a disease or a baby.

It was a bit of a challenge holding the condom in one hand, while pulling up my pants with the other, but I managed. I walked it into the restroom and dispensed the contents into the toilet before wrapping it in tissue. I would have just thrown it away, but I had heard that some women trapped men by later retrieving it and dispensing the semen into their vagina to get pregnant.

I peed while I was in there and my senses started returning. The blood flow was re-routing to my brain, and I had this sudden urge to flee the scene of the crime. When I reappeared, Jan was completely dressed. She brushed past me and went into the bathroom without a word. I presumed she was going to get cleaned up.

I had a choice at this point. I could wait around for her to return and make small talk before I spent the night in her bed. Or I could simply walk out the door, down the hallway to the stairs, and take a cab home. Obviously, the former choice is the right one. It's not the choice I went with.

Even at 1:00am, cabs weren't too difficult to find. The bars stayed open for two more hours and so many of them were just sitting idle, waiting for 3:00am to arrive. I contemplated my decision to flee only after I was riding in the backseat of that cab, watching the early morning face of Dubai as it whipped past my window. No other possibility would have been comfortable. I was already feeling guilty, and it was just going to get worse the more sober I became.

My thoughts shifted to more introspective criticism. In all my years of dating, I'd never cheated on any girlfriend. Lying and cheating are two pet-peeves of mine. I suppose my dear mother has something to do with that. I didn't want to be treated that way; I saw what it did to my dad, and so I wouldn't treat anyone else that way. Jess really doesn't deserve this. What made me do something so outrageously out-of-character for me?

I would like to think that I was seduced, and leave it at that. But I don't really believe people can be totally seduced. Anyway, I knew it was on my mind even before we left the club. In fact, it was before that. Even before dinner, I had been fantasizing about fucking some stranger.

It dawned on me finally, that I was a little nervous about settling down. I would be with just one woman for the rest of my life. No matter how much I may love this person, it made me panic thinking about giving up any chance of having wild, unadulterated sex with a random person....kind of like tonight.

My mind wandered again to visions of Jan writhing on my lap. I wasn't as turned-on by the thought of it, anymore. I decided that I would rather make love to Jess once, than fuck Jan every day for a month.

The cab arrived close enough to my apartment and I paid the driver. He was Pakistani and didn't speak very good English, but I think I managed to pay the right amount. I didn't really care at that point. That cab had just saved me from a disaster, and I would have given that driver all of my dirham.

I collapsed onto my own bed after a long, hot shower. It was 3:10am. I slept straight through until the afternoon. Just before drifting off, I briefly considered whether or not I would tell Jess about it. It was a very brief thought. Guilt is an emotion I can't embrace.

Chapter 8

Simon sent me an e-mail Monday morning, the 25^th, letting me know that he wouldn't be leaving until the next day. I almost missed the e-mail because it came from a foreign e-mail address, and my spam blocker grabbed it. The subject line of the notification caught my eye. It read, Daddy is coming home tomorrow. I thought that sounded a little unusual for spam, so I decided to open it. Simon has a pretty sick sense of humor sometimes.

Martin delivered Simon Tuesday night. I was surprised that Martin didn't come up to the house or anything. He was gone by the time I got to the front door. We weren't all that close or anything, but we did share a very important mutual friend.

I started to cry again when Simon lifted me off my feet with his hug. I hadn't been able to rest until he was safe and sound on the ground. The relief just opened up a flood gate of emotion.

"I took tomorrow off. It is an automatic holiday since it is my birthday."

"Oh, yeah. Oh, Jess...I completely lost track of the time. I didn't get you anything."

"No, no, no...Simon, don't worry about it. Your being here is present enough for me."

Simon didn't appear to think about it another second. His eyes were scanning the room and peering past me into the kitchen.

"Are you ready for a tour?"

"Yep."

I walked him through the entire house trying to read his face for clues. I wanted his approval. I wanted him to like it enough to want to live there with me.

"I like it."

I couldn't tell how enthusiastic he was about it. He didn't emphasize the words or anything when he said them. I started to wonder what he didn't like about it.

"It's big. And it's empty."

I started to blush a little. "I know...I feel real guilty about all the space and I haven't had a chance to buy furniture to fill all the bedrooms."

Simon shrugged, "It doesn't matter if the rooms have furniture if there isn't anyone to occupy them."

I was at a loss for words. I didn't know where he was going with the conversation.

"What time is it?" He asked.

"11:35"

"I'm exhausted. Can we just go to bed and talk tomorrow?"

"Sure."

I was a little put-off by his abrupt end to our chit-chat. He seemed a little distant, and I couldn't figure out how he felt about the house. Even though my mind was racing with questions and I was excited about seeing him, the constant worrying I had been doing the past week made me tired all of a sudden.

Maybe I am imagining all of this. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. I can be so negative sometimes.

The next morning, I woke up around 9. Simon was still sleeping soundly. I laid there watching him sleep for some time. The rhythm of his breathing was very soothing. I needed to get up and use the restroom, however, and began making my move off the bed. Simon stirred and lifted his head, but just rolled over and went back to sleep. I was surprised he didn't try to stop me from exiting without asking permission.

I started to think about our previous lifestyle. It worked fine in our confined apartment space, but it would be difficult to maintain such a routine in a spread as large as my house. There were just too many windows throughout the house, facing too many other houses in that very conservative neighborhood. I tried to examine my feelings about changing the basis of our relationship. I couldn't imagine life with Simon in any other way. I loved our way of life. I will find some way to make it work again.

I made coffee and poured myself some cereal. Judging from Simon's appearance in bed, he wasn't going to be ready to get up until lunchtime.

I decided to make some beef stew and let it simmer in the crock pot. Usually Simon chose what fare we would eat, but I already had the ingredients in my refrigerator. I had intended to cook it Sunday, but completely forgot. Now I had to cook the meat or it would spoil. I could always just refrigerate it and take it to work for lunch.

I sneaked into the bedroom several times to see if he was stirring. He never moved a muscle. I was in the middle of watching my recording of CBS Sunday Morning on my DVR when I heard the shower running. I glanced at the clock; it was 2:00pm.

My heart rate started to pick-up. I couldn't tell if I was anxious, or excited. Probably a little of both. I didn't know if I should go into the bathroom and greet him, or give him some privacy and wait for him to come into the living room. All of these were questions that brought to light the fact that we hadn't lived together in almost a year. We weren't complete strangers, but we lacked a routine.

I was watching the last segment of my show when Simon walked into the living room. His hair was wet, but his body was fully dried, and he was dressed. He bent over and kissed me on the lips.

"Good morning, baby. I sure have missed you."

"I've missed you, too. How did you sleep?"

"Good. It's going to take me awhile to adjust to the time difference, I think. What is that smell?"

"Oh, its beef stew. It's probably done by now; do you want some?"

"God, I'm starving...YES." Simon's pace toward the kitchen quickened.

"I'll get some for you, baby. You should sit down and rest." I had to yell the last sentence as he was already several strides into the kitchen.

"No, that's silly. I'll get it. You finish watching your show."

I could hear him opening different cabinets until he found the bowls.

"Baby, do you want me to bring you a bowl of stew?"

I paused for a moment to think, "Sure."

This was definitely different than our usual routine, but it still felt very familiar, very right.

Simon walked into the living room with both bowls of stew and set them down on the coffee table.

"Water?"

"Yes, please." I always drank water with my meals. He remembered.

He went back into the kitchen for our drinks and returned a moment later. My immediate reaction was to stop the playback of my recording and hand him the remote. I moved my hand toward the remote, but Simon's words stopped me.

"Let's just finish watching this, sweetie."

I couldn't remember him using so many terms of endearment for me. It was a change that I could get used to real quick. Then at a random time during our lunch he just matter-of-factly said, "I love you, baby."

I know my surprise showed, but I didn't hesitate to respond.

"I love you, too."

Where is all this coming from?

Chapter 9

Martin showed up at the airport like he promised. I was half-surprised to see him there. It was one thing to make plans for one night, but then to change it only a day in advance...well, you never know what Martin might have planned.

I only had one small suitcase to retrieve from baggage claim. In it were a couple of shirts, three pairs of shorts, two pairs of shoes, one pair of khaki pants, underwear, and socks. I thought about burning the khakis. My last memory of wearing them was one I would rather forget.

After a brief guy hug in front of the baggage carousel, Martin got right to the point.

"So, what's the plan for tonight? I thought we could hit the bars in Westport."

"I'll be taking a rain check on that. I need to stop by your place to get some stuff, and then I thought you could drop me off at Jess's."

Martin's mind was working on an alternate plan. I'd seen this scheming face before. I knew it all too well.

Martin pulled his cell phone from his pocket and speed dialed someone. I knew who it was before he spoke.

"Hey, I know I told you I was going out, but plans have changed. Can we meet at your place in an hour?"..."Good. See you then."..."You, too."..."Bye."

Unless I was very mistaken, he was talking to Jill. Furthermore, she told him she loved him, and he just responded with the standard guy response of, You, too. This is the only acceptable response when your buddy is listening.

Martin turned to look my way and I just shook my head.

"Dude, what are you doing, living with Teresa?"

"I don't even want to hear it."

I knew why Martin was with Teresa, but he would never admit it. He liked the way people looked at him with Teresa on his arm. He felt it gave him more respect from business partners and customers when they saw this gorgeous young woman living with Martin. He bragged about her all the time. He never passed up the opportunity to mention that she was only 24 years old. He had a provocative photo of her framed, and sitting on his desk. It was gut-wrenching. Not just because Teresa was repulsive to me -- because of her personality -- but also because Martin was just that shallow and weak.

I talked to Martin about Teresa's expectations. She thought they would be married by then. When I would ask Martin if he planned to marry her, he always replied that he probably would, but he wasn't sure when. The more truthful answer would have been: Not until, or unless, it helps my career. His situation with Teresa was nothing more than a career strategy. And his relationship with her was only valuable if it fed his shallow ego.

It wasn't always like that. Martin was working at his first financing company when he met Teresa. She was their Receptionist. She hardly eked out a living. She was also young, and naïve. This was the perfect formula for Martin to sweep Teresa off her feet.

Martin had all sorts of grand plans about starting his own business and making it big. Teresa listened intently with wide eyes. She had her own dreams: a big white wedding, a large house, and lots of children. In those first few months, while they lived in my home in Lenexa, their relationship was definitely in the honeymoon phase.

Like all relationships, theirs was very sexual at first. Teresa was eager to please Martin and so she embraced all of Martin's fetishes. And he has plenty. Martin mistook this for submissiveness, instead of desperateness. Teresa was desperate to find a husband so she didn't have to work. She graduated college with a degree in Marketing which proved to be pretty useless for her.

Martin got lucky, falling into a business opportunity that would eventually land him his own company. Teresa's gamble paid-off. She quit her job to become full-time housekeeper for Martin.

On the one hand, Martin loved the idea of Teresa living in his home, cooking and cleaning for him. On the other hand, he lost all remaining respect for her. He started working late at the office -- both because it was necessary when starting a new business, and because he needed a break from Teresa.

That's when we met Jill. Martin and I were at O'Dowd's on The Plaza one night. This bubbly redhead was standing next to the bar behind me. She started laughing and backed-up into me, spilling my drink on the floor. It wasn't a big deal but she felt terrible about it. She bought me another drink and then we just all fell into conversation. Jill was so easy to talk to, and so lively.

Jill stands about 5'2" and has a very slender, but athletic build. That night she was wearing a blue sweater and jeans. She had this amazing red hair that bounced every time she talked, like it had a life all its own. She wasn't the type I was particularly attracted to, but I was drawn to her energy.