The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 15cbyPAUL C©
The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 15c: Another June Wedding Part 3
A Paul and Jenny Story.
(Copyright 2001 by Paul. All rights reserved)
All events and characters are fictitious. As in all my stories no similarity with anyone, alive or dead, is intended.
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Paul stood close behind me as I pulled up the zip at the side of my skirt and held one of my breasts in each hand. That felt nice. My body was still tingling from our last shag. I could have stayed like this for hours.
"Paul? Jenny? Your teas are getting cold." Lucy called up the stairs.
"Just coming." I called back in reply.
"I wish I was." Paul murmured in my ear.
"You just did." I pointed out.
Turning towards him I placed my arms about his neck and kissed him on the lips.
"Now I want you full at the weekend," I continued "so I think it's best we don't do it again before the wedding."
"We won't be able to after tomorrow." He sulked. "What with you staying at my parents and me with my grandfather."
"But think of Saturday night."
I could feel he was. It was pressing into my pubic mound. I had to rub myself against it.
"I know it will be hard." I smiled up at him. I could feel it was. Damm that Lucy. Why did she have to come with him?
"We'd best go." I said.
I could feel myself weakening but determined to be strong and led him by the hand from the bedroom, down the stairs into the kitchen. I hoped his hard on had gone down by the time we reached Lucy. I saw her eyes immediately drop to his crotch. Obviously it hadn't.
"Is this one mine?" I asked, picking up a mug of tea.
"I didn't sugar either." Lucy replied her eyes still fixed on the front of Paul's trousers.
Would Paul have the sense to sit down?
No. He put a spoonful of sugar into the second mug and carried it to the kitchen window where he stood with his back to us looking out.
"We really must do something with this garden," he said, then pointed with one hand. "I thought that if I got hold of some paving slabs we could lay a small patio area there where we could sit out in the evenings."
"That's a good idea." I agreed. "When we get back from Spain."
"Is that where you are going on honeymoon?" Lucy asked.
"Yes. Paul's family have a villa out there." I replied moving to Paul's side and, turning on the tap, rinsing out my mug.
I took his mug from his hand and did the same to that. He looked miles away.
I leaned my head against his shoulder. He turned his head and smiled down at me.
"Not having second thoughts are you?" I whispered.
"No." He replied kissing my forehead.
"Everyone will be waiting in the pub for you." Lucy said moving towards the door as if trying to say move your asses.
"Us?" Paul asked.
"Sometimes, I despair of you." I said and shook my head sadly.
He couldn't see the wood from the trees on occasions.
"Let's go." I took his hand in mine. "Do you have some money?"
"About twenty pounds." He replied.
"I'm sure they'll let us run a tab in the bar."
We walked down the hill to the pub with Lucy leading and Paul walking by my side holding my hand.
The car park was full for a mid week lunchtime. I checked Paul's wristwatch as we went inside. It was a quarter to two. Normally that would give us forty-five minutes until closing time. Lucy led the way into the main bar. There were only the normal six or eight people you'd expect on weekday lunchtime. Lucy went straight through to the door at the far end that opened onto the short corridor with entrances to the toilets, lounge bar and functions room.
A loud cheer went up as we followed Lucy into the function room. There must have been upwards of fifty people there.
Paul stopped dead in his tracks and I'm sure he would have turned to run if I hadn't been holding him.
"You knew?" He asked, looking at me.
"I thought they'd do something but I wasn't expecting this."
I couldn't say anymore. Shirley came up and hugged me then kissed my cheeks than she hugged and kissed Paul. It was the sign for the music to begin.
Between hugs and handshakes and kisses I lost contact with Paul finally reaching him as Lucy's tongue was making acquaintance with his tonsils. His hands were getting over friendly with her ass cheeks come to think of it.
I wormed my way in between them.
"Remember who you came with." I hinted.
He looked so sheepish. Like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"It wasn't my fault." He hissed as Mrs Morrell, my senior tutor, led us to the stage at the far end of the hall.
"Shush." I hissed back. "Later."
I gave his hand a squeeze. I hope he had a speech prepared.
The music stopped and I looked to the twin-decked disco on the end of the stage and saw that it was Paul's friend Steve who was acting as DJ. One handed as one of his hands was behind Shirley's back and she was smiling.
Steve handed the microphone to Mrs. Morrell.
"Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen and especially Paul and Jenny. Soon to be Mr and Mrs Wagstaffe."
This announcement was greeted by thunderous applause.
I turned over in my bed and looked at my alarm clock. Seven-fifteen. It was daylight. It must be morning. I didn't feel too badly, all things considered. The bar in the back room had stayed open until the main pub re-opened again at six o'clock that evening. We had both drunk to much. Danced too much. Laughed too much. And I'd even had time for a good cry with Shirley. It had been lovely. The presents were nice as well. No, it had been perfect. I'm was glad we hadn't tried to make love last night when we came home. I knew Paul had been willing but his flesh, or a certain part of it, had definitely been weak.
I heard the sounds of the piano being played. Slowly. Just picking out the notes of a melody. Slowly, sadly. Then a sudden burst as he brought his right hand in to play, then, as if he remembered the time of day he went back to playing slowly.
For Natasha. Those had been the words on the top of the sheet music his mother had placed in the stool of his piano. Written by his great uncle who had been a concert pianist in the early years of the century who had lost a hand on the Somme in 1916. (See, An Hour before Mass).
A difficult piece to play until you realised it was written to be played left-handed. Even then it was still technically difficult.
Paul would never take his own playing seriously. He seemed content to bang out numbers in a pub when he'd had a few beers but on those too rare evenings when he would play for me I would melt before him. He was much better then he thought he was. He'd even accompanied a Cabaret singer in Jamaica and helped her land a resident's contract in the most prestigious. He'd dismissed his part as it was anything anyone could have done. I'd heard them. She was good but it was his playing that had made the evening for me. When the contract had been offered it had been offered to both of them.
Apparently she had moved on to America and was doing well now. Packing them in the Wolfenstein chain of Hotels. I hoped she still wasn't letting Howie have it.
The tune downstairs changed. This was new. I'd never heard this one before. He played some notes then added some cords. Stopped as if he was thinking then started again. It was lovely. The music was at just the right level. The bed was warm and comfortable.
I stretched and scratched.
Something else needed scratching. I ran my fingers through my pubic hairs freeing some knots. I could feel the skin being pulled underneath. I took hold of four or five hairs near the mound of my clitoris and gently pulled them. I could feel my skin moving over my clit. I released the hairs took hold of some more in a different place and pulled them. The hood over my clit moved again. I let go of my hairs and squeezed my clit between the first and second fingers of my right hand. I needed that, the pressure had been building.
Relax and listen to the music. He'd started again. Slowly, carefully picking out the notes of the melody. My fingers still held my clit between them. I could feel it swelling. Becoming more sensitive with each second that passed, with each note that was played. The music was moving faster, flowing, so were my fingers. I bent my knees and let my legs flop open. The sudden movement pulled the bedclothes from the top half of my body. My hand kept moving. I was coming. I heard a noise, sensed a movement and I looked down. My breasts with there erect nipples. Between them, standing at the foot of the bed in his bath-towel was Paul looking down on me. I hadn't noticed the music stop or heard him on the stairs.
My fingers frooze on my clit. I wanted to turn my head away but I couldn't move. I couldn't move when he pulled the bed covers from my body leaving me naked on the bed. I could do nothing when he knelt on the end of the bed, his bath-towel falling to the floor and his hand moved mine away. I felt his breath, warm, moist against the lips of my fanny before his lips touched them, releasing me. I closed my eyes and ran my fingers through his hair as his tongue entered me. I lifted my hips from the bed as he searched for my clit. I gave a sharp cry as he found it. Just touching it. Then sucking it. Then touching it. Then moving it from side to side. I gasped as he pushed first one then a second finger inside me moving them in and out as he would his cock.
I lifted my feet from the bed and placed them on his shoulders hoping he would go to the place I wanted him to go. His tongue left my clit and his lips sucked on mine as his mouth moved down. I could feel his breath on the soft skin between my holes then on my anus. My body jerked as the tip of his tongue touched it. It moved around it as if feeling for each tight fold of skin. The sensations were sensational.
Somebody was sobbing with pleasure. It was me. I felt a sharp stab of pain as his tongue pushed up inside me and willed my ring not to fight its passage. He swirled his tongue around inside me then he withdrew it and I felt the tip of his finger take its place before my hole could fully tighten. It hurt, but then his tongue was back against my clit. His finger was pushing up inside me his tongue was flicking my clit from side to side. Faster, further in, faster still, further still.
Something seemed to explode inside me as I came with an intensity I hadn't felt in ages.
Ow. It hurt as he pulled his finger from my ass hole.
I opened my eyes and looked down between my legs.
He was sitting on his heels stroking his prick to full hardness.
"Yes." I said. "I thought."
I had to stop and let my breathing steady.
"I thought," I continued, "that we had agreed that we were going to save all your stuff until Saturday."
"I'm here to re-negotiate." He said, looming above me and positioning the tip of his prick against the still wide-open lips of my fanny and pushing gently inside me.
"Re-negotiate?" I gasped, wrapping my arms and legs around him as he began moving in and out.
"This is my opening gambit."
"It's opening me." I panted as he quickened.
"Do you think there's anything in it?" He panted back.
"There's certainly something in it." I agreed, turning my head to one side then back again as I had a little come.
Of course I'm fucking all right.
"Yes." He replied.
He was moving faster, and faster, I could feel him growing inside me. Not yet. Don't come yet. Now. I dug my nails into his back as I came. I could feel him jerking inside me. Moving slowly in and out. Stopping. Softening inside me. He pulled out and rolled onto his side next to me.
"We will have to make a move soon." He said, placing his arm around my shoulders and feeling for my anus with his index finger as I snuggled up to his body with my head on his shoulder. "We are expected at my parents for lunch and you have to pick up Shirley and take her with you."
"We don't have to go yet." I said, kissing his chest then his jaw-bone. "I want to re-negotiate some more."
His prick jerked as I placed my hand upon his balls.