Sweet Dreams Are Made of These
Chapter 1: January - "Starting the Year With a Bang"

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Spanking, Polygamy/Polyamory, First, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism,

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1: January - "Starting the Year With a Bang" - Sometimes reality is better than any fantasy the mind can build, and sometimes you just have to hold onto the dream and pray that you never wake up. Jahn is about to tread the fine line between the two as he discards one relationship to pursue another.

"Hey, asshole."

Isn't it funny how some things never change? First and last impression, like mirror images. Those were the first words Greg Bartels had ever spoken to him, and despite not having seen the guy for nearly two years, were the first to spill out of his mouth again. It wasn't unexpected, but Jahn hadn't liked the guy since the beginning; he came off a cocky bastard who had none of the physique to back up the unspoken threats of violence that he always seemed to carry with him. Bartels had that unpleasant demeanor of someone who would happily pick a fight and make a miserable ear-biting mess of it. The kind of scrappy little prick who might lose the fight, but would guarantee you regretted ever being in it.

The man had a problem, though in perspective Jahn really couldn't blame him. It wasn't just any problem. It was Andrea Dunlap. Jahn's girlfriend.Greg's girlfriend. Doing the math, it added up to "What the fuck?"

Any man would leap at the chance to hook a woman like Andrea. Nice rack, nice legs, nice ass, hell – nice everything, for anyone who was into just the surface. That, and more – Andrea was the total package: looks, brains, and money, most of which she'd built by hard work and simple determination that life owed her something, and that she was going to take it by the balls if it wasn't given to her. Unfortunately she was also a bit of a bitch, as if she felt she had to live up to some sort of ice queen stereotype. Years ago, he'd made the first move, prepared for outright rejection, and had been pleasantly surprised when she'd said yes to a date. From that point on, he was smitten. Perspective and hindsight were the watchwords, he guessed. Little things could be overlooked. Her materialistic outlook could be forgiven; he had enough money to afford nice gifts now and then. A lack of physical intimacy other than the occasional blowjob could also be ignored, as she'd made it clear that she was waiting for marriage. When it came right down to it, Jahn Halvers wanted to be the guy she married.

//I'm so sorry for all the things I put you through, she whispers up at him, glittering green eyes swimming with regret. Can you ever forgive me? Andrea lifted her arms beseechingly to him from where she knelt, sheer robe falling back on her arms, exposing that beautiful flesh she always kept so well hidden behind pretty clothes and sparkling jewelry. Make love to me, and say that everything will be alright?//

Then Greg showed up, and everything had been fucked up ever since. Despite the little man's visible desire to take a swing at him, Andrea had shown up for her date with him at just the right time, and the Tough Guy demeanor fell apart. And all of a sudden, she was sweet-talking the pair of them like a car salesman. Before they knew it, both men had walked away convinced that their expectations of what was clearly a casual relationship were utterly wrong, and they should be more accepting of Andrea's lack of commitment. In retrospect, he got the impression that maybe she'd manipulated things so that she could play off the inevitable competitiveness that had sprung up between them.

But that was hindsight. Here on New Year's Eve, dateless in some dump of a bar, he couldn't help but think he'd lost whatever head-butting contest he and Greg had going on. All the jewelry and gifts, romantic dinners and overtures, all of it had counted for exactly shit. He wasn't a drinker, hadn't ever been drunk in his life, but goddamnit, he was ready to tie one on and call an end to this bullshit year. Even the solace of that self-pitying thought was interrupted, however, by the ringing of his cell.

"Hey, asshole." The words came out in a slur, and it was pretty obvious not only who the caller was, but that he was well into his own bottle.

Annoyed, he snapped off, "Not really interested in whatever shit you've cooked up for me, Greg. What is it?"

A pause and then the rough slurring continued. "Just called'a tell ya Andy's all yours. I'm tired'a gettin ditched like this, man and I really, I wanna spend my holidays with someone what ackshully gives a shit."

Shocked, he responded, "Thought she was with you tonight? Told me she had other plans..." Silence met his reply, and he thought Greg had either hung up or passed out.

"Wha tha fuck. Anotha asshole?"

Probably, he thought, anger rising like bile. "No idea. She's had better things to do for the holidays."

"Y'know, just ain't worth it anymore. Y'know how much money I blown on that bitch, tryn'a to getter ta love me, y'know? It'sh, it's like tryn'a hug a block'a wood. Y'know?"

That was one too many "y'knows" for Jahn, and he replied, "Yeah, I guess I do know. I'm done with it too. Think I'll stop by her office tomorrow and drop the good news."

A coughing bark of laughter greeted that, "Yeah, that'll piss'er off. I might just do that too. Later, asshole."

Dead air. He considered that Greg might actually try to use the opportunity to get clear with Andrea but did he really care? No, he supposed he didn't. Andrea had been serving them both a steaming pile on a shiny silver platter for nearly a year now. Ready for something new. Staring at the glass in his hand, he made his resolution.

Give the little bastard credit. He had followed through. When Jahn arrived at Andrea's office, she'd had a sullen look on her face that did nothing to complement her looks. More importantly it was an expression that also meant she'd failed to get her way on something serious. The little things didn't matter to her – she wormed her way around them. Like water on the window, the scowl slipped away as Jahn walked in. Perhaps she thought he'd heard about their confrontation and was there to be her shoulder to lean on. Again. How fitting.

Being an asshole about it hadn't strictly been necessary, and the smugness on his face probably been uncalled for. Before he was done announcing their split, she dissolved into screaming hysterics that followed his hasty retreat to the other side of the office floor. Never expected that out of her, he thought with a self-satisfied grin.

"Ugly split?" The low, throaty voice came at him from nowhere, and he turned, startled to find himself face to face – well, chest to face, with a rather short woman he was sure he'd met before. Short, but very attractive, he thought. Petite figure, smaller breasts, but fantastic legs, and shoulder-length brown hair. Freya? Freida? Oh yeah, the high cheekbones. "Fiona from Accounting, right?"

//Of course I recognize you, Fiona sighed. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the last time we met. Her slender fingers stray to the buttons of a silk vest, fabric slipping soundlessly aside expose her breasts. Have you been thinking of me?//

Fiona smiled, lips curving in pleasure that he'd remembered. They'd only met a few times during his visits to the office. "That would be me. And you're Jahn ... Andrea's former boyfriend, if the screams are any indicator?"

Suddenly, the whole scene seemed a little awkward and not quite as satisfying. "Yeah," he said, somewhat embarrassed. "I think I had a little too much fun with the break-up."

"Understandable. The other one was here earlier. Don't know his name."

"That would be Greg," he muttered. More awkward by the minute. Perhaps he was justified in being a jerk, but he was also now the guy whose girlfriend had been cheating on him. He'd considered for a second that he might like to ask Fiona out, but now...

"You don't need to be embarrassed about it. Everyone here knows what kind of person Andrea is: total user. Still, she does her job, and does it well enough that nobody's going to complain as long as she keeps making the company money." Nothing he shouldn't already have realized, he supposed, mentally kicking himself again for taking so long to figure it out. The brunette interrupted his internal self-abuse with a hopeful "Maybe you'd like to go out sometime, now that you're free?" Realizing that had come out poorly, she tried to backtrack, "Not to sound like an opportunist or spiteful or anything..."

Jahn laughed. "No, I'd love to. Time to move on. How 'bout dinner?" Inwardly, he speculated that he probably didn't need another girlfriend so soon, but he couldn't let Andrea wreck any chance of having a normal relationship with women. He wasn't bad-looking, pale and almost effeminately slender, but he'd only ever met a few women forward enough to make the first move. He should probably enjoy the opportunity while it presented itself. Besides, even with the appreciative look she was giving him, it was probably a bit ... no, face it: a lot premature to think Fiona would be interested in anything beyond the first date.

Dinner was an enjoyable affair, and he found he really did like her. Fiona had a quick intellect, worldly and insightful in a way that was utterly different from his ex's sharp and calculating mind. While not as hot as Andrea (he knew that was an unfair standard, because very few women were) the accountant was fresh and pretty, far less severe and not so hard-edged that you were afraid she might cut you if you put a finger wrong. She seemed to dig him as well, but would trail off from something she was saying in a way that he was sure meant she was distracted by other thoughts. Was he boring her, or was she trying to figure out whether he was interested in her? He could empathize with the awkwardness, as it'd been far too long since he'd been on a date last and he just couldn't work out the signals she was sending. God only knew if he could actually pull off proper flirting anymore without coming off as a complete tool.

When they'd finished eating, Fiona invited him back to her house to watch a movie, and his heart did somersaults in his chest. Was he going to get lucky already?!?

Slow down, idiot, he cautioned himself. It's just dinner and a movie.

Her house was surprisingly large, two stories, maybe three or four bedrooms, if in somewhat poor repair. Jahn supposed it was the family home, one she'd inherited from her parents, and asked her about it. The answer was a mumbled response, and he turned his attention from the wheel briefly enough to realize that she was scowling at a sporty little car sitting in the driveway. Oh shit, he thought. Does she live with her parents? This was gonna be a short, uneventful evening, he lamented inwardly.

Their entry into the house was greeted by the blare of a television in the living room and a lilting voice that came from a blonde head just above the couch, "Left-over take out on the table if you want it."

Still scowling, Fiona coughed pointedly, saying "Company."

The blonde mane whirled around and wide blue eyes stared at him, immediately followed by a yelped, "Shit!" as the girl sitting there popped up like a jack-in-the box and fled for a staircase that led up to the second floor. A treat – the girl, whoever she was, was wearing ass-hugging jeans and nothing but a bra that emphasized a sizable bust.

Fiona snorted under her breath, "Jeezus Jenny," and moved towards the kitchen to begin clearing a bunch of take-out cartons from the table, busying herself with the task of clearing a number of dishes from the table.

"Housemate?" he speculated after he'd hung his jacket by the door and joined her, enjoying the view as she leaned over put some dirty silver into the dishwasher.

"I should be so lucky." After dumping the remainder of the trash, she turned her attention back to him. "She's my sister."

He raised an eyebrow. The brief glimpse he'd caught didn't indicate they looked anything alike, but you never knew. "Wouldn't have guessed by looking."

"Because her tits are so much smaller than mine?" piped up a high voice from behind him, startling him shitless. As he turned, he saw Fiona raise a middle finger at her sister, and flush slightly in embarrassment when she saw that he'd noticed her doing it.

He was greeted by a lovely spectacle: the blonde girl ... no, definitely a woman ... leaning against the doorway with a wide grin, arms crossed beneath her breasts, wasn't much taller ... or older for that matter ... than her sister, but had a spectacular figure, nice hips and breasts complemented by a slim waist and toned limbs. Unlike the tan skin of her sister, she was pale, with lovely blonde hair that looked natural. Lips pursed in thought, she stared at him with intent blue eyes for a moment, then spoke, "Half-sister. The better half, of course. Older, wiser, prettier and all that."

//And we share everything, the nameless blonde tittered at him suggestively. Would you like to watch?//

"Only by a year," came the retort from behind him. "Yeah, yeah," the blonde laughed. "You've reminded me of that ever since you finally got old enough to buy your own booze." Jahn got the distinct impression that Fiona was the more mature of the two, whatever their age.

"I'm Jenny, or Jen if you like. Are you into Scientology?"

Baffled by the question, he blurted out, "The fuck? Not in this lifetime..." She seemed to be making fun of him, but he didn't get it.

"How about acting?" Frowning, he shook his head at her question. Seeing that he was taking the question seriously, she laughed at him. "I'm just teasing. You look kind of like a young Tom Cruise, except skinnier."

"Oh." The light dawned. "Scientology? Fuck you." She raised a hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle, and said to Fiona, "Yeah, I bet you picked him up just because of that, didn't you, sis?" Turning her attention back to him, "She totally had a crush on him in Top Gun even though he's like, insanely old now."

He turned his attention back to his actual date, expecting to the scowl to have turned into something angrier, but instead found her grinning at Jenny. "Maybe I did. And maybe we should pull all those old posters out and see how many of the same ones you have, hmmm?" Jenny's pale cheeks reddened, and she muttered something that was probably meant to be a scathing response, but was inaudible. The back-and-forth banter petered out from there, and so did Fiona's good mood. He wondered if he'd been ogling her sister without checking himself or something. When the movie finished, he was surprised to receive a lingering peck on the cheek, and an indication she'd be up for a second date later. He liked her, and hoped it would go further from there – she had the kind of lively intelligence and acerbic wit that promised engaging dates and at least a shared interest in what was being discussed, rather than elaborate sighs and thinly veiled condescension. They even had a few interests in common that she could go on for hours about on the phone. Maybe he could take her on a bike tour to photograph some of the local landmarks if he could keep her interest that long until the weather got nice again.

That hope seemed to be doomed. Oh sure, he got the second date after a week of cell tag, but there was a definite disconnect with her over the course of their conversation, as if she had more important things on her mind. Evening's end, he finally decided to dispense with the guesswork, preferring to move on to greener pastures if she wasn't interested. After he'd voiced his concern, she gave him an apologetic smile. "It's not you, just me. I've a lot of ... work-related stuff rolling around in my brain. Let's go out again sometime, okay?" Jahn gave a grunt of assent that earned him another lingering kiss on the cheek, but his heart really wasn't in it. Not you, just me. The kiss of death, the kissing cousin to Mr. Friend Zone. Just his luck.

Staring at his computer, watching animated robots beat each other to death, he wondered just what the hell was wrong with him. At least a few women dug his looks. He wasn't rich, but he had money, a car, solid employment, an apartment, and most important in his eyes, a big dick. What's this bullshit, mainstream media, he thought crossly. According to you and the porno mags, panties should be dropping like flies whenever I walk into the room. Instead, he kept getting stuck with girls who didn't seem interested even in the things that women supposedly dug, like romance and relationships. At one point, he wanted nothing more than to get married to Andrea, raise a few kids and live a model suburban life. It might not be exciting, but it was a pleasant future. The way things were going, he'd probably just replaced Andrea with a counterpart that would spend the next couple years-

The buzz of his cellphone caught his attention. A deft flip of the cover revealed - a call from the Reed residence. Sighing, he opened the call, and said "Hey Fiona, what's up?"

"Hey Jahn, this is Jen!" Oh, well that was unexpected. "Everything okay over there? Didn't realize you had my number." There was silence on the other end for a moment, and he thought he'd lost the connection.

"Oh, you're on our whiteboard with all our other contacts. I just wondered, well ... are you and Fiona still dating?"

Man, what an awkward question that was. Carefully, he said, "No idea, really. She doesn't seem all that interested in me, but ... okay, I gotta admit, this is a weird conversation. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned but, is it normal to ask something like that these days?"

"Ummm," came her voice over the phone, sounding as if she were hedging. "Maybe not. But I noticed that she'd stopped calling you all the time and I think you guys only dated once or twice anyway, right? I was thinking that if the two of you weren't still going out, you might like to go out for coffee or something with me sometime... ?"

"Oh, sure, I don't see any problem with that. Like I said, I get the impression that I'm not her type."

In a voice that seemed, at least to his hyper-active imagination, dripping with innuendo, "You're definitely my type, Jahn." Yea, he thought hysterically. That's what she said. Holy shit, not even a daydream. Or was it? Fuck, he thought, frantically backtracking in his head. No, she'd said it.

The week that followed was like a drug-induced dream sequence. Not only did they hit it off on the first date, but Jenny couldn't seem to get enough of his presence, and had an idea for something new each evening. After a bite out, it was the Solarium one night, a movie the next, a fancy dinner, she kept coming up with stuff. He was baffled to find himself agreeing to go to play lasertag with her. Andrea would probably have kicked him in the teeth for suggesting something like that. And all that time together, it might have been tedious with anyone else, but Jenny was genuinely fun to be around, making stuff he ordinarily would have disliked or been bored shitless by, an entertaining experience. She came off as naïve one moment, dropping an incredibly dirty joke the next. Bright and cheery, she exuded charm and personality the way her sister seemed to radiate intelligence and wit. You couldn't call her bubbly or vapid, like some sort of stereotypical dizzy blonde, because she was better than that, smart enough to hold her own in conversation if chatter strayed in that direction. Still, she was one of those people who lived in the moment, taking everything life had to offer.

She'd even convinced him to go dancing, practically dragging him to the club, though he'd desperately attempted to convince her that he had no idea how, and probably didn't have the dexterity to pull it off. Yet here he was, bouncing around to a beat by some hip hop star he'd never heard of, throwing his hands up in the air like he just didn't care. God almighty. The blonde danced, and kissed, and danced some more like it was going out of style.

That's how it was with Jenny – a virtual roller-coaster ride, free-wheeling straight up one hill and screaming down into the next valley. A corner of him nursed a grudge, wondering why he'd wasted so much time when there were women like this. Women, yeah: no matter how girlish or immature Jenny acted, everything about her was every bit her age, just cast in sunshine shadows. Like paradox, except it worked for her.

As the evening wound down, melting into what seemed to him a clumsy slow dance, Jenny nestled into his shoulder, whispering flirtatiously into his ear, "Y'know, I'm still a virgin. Want to pop my cherry?"

Startled, caught completely off-guard, he blurted out, "Bullshit!" It seemed inevitable that the topic of sex would come 'round with her, as she'd dropped more than a few hints, but he knew that she'd have to make the first move. Jenny was great, and he didn't want to train-wreck what was turning out to be an outstanding friendship just for a single night. Oh sure, he wanted her – she always wore clothing that accentuated her curvy figure spectacularly, shirts that showed off her large breasts, jeans or skirts that hugged her hips, and she possessed an undercurrent of sexuality that he felt sure indicated far more experience than he had. Virgin? No way.

Pulling back, she glared up at him, her eyes seeming to darken. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Back-pedaling lamely in his skull, he grasped wildly about for an explanation, then realized the easiest way was the obvious: "Seriously, you're twenty-four, incredibly sexy and have an amazing personality. I can't believe that you've never had a boyfriend who wouldn't leap at the chance to fuck you. Uh, not to be crude or anything..."

Jenny didn't seem to catch that last bit, her cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. "I've had boyfriends. They just never seem to stick around long enough to get to ... that."

"Okay, fair eno- wait, you've never actually done the deed, but you talk dirtier than a lot of guys I know. How does that work?" As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized how stupid they sounded, and those pretty blue eyes narrowed.

"I'm not dumb, you know. I've watched porn, I know how it all works." Too much info, and she realized it, but blew it off with a laugh. "Yeah, now you know my dirty little secret." Tracing a finger underneath his chin, she asked challengingly, "What're you gonna do about it?"

Sweet merciful Jenny, he was off the hook at last, but having another piece of bait dangled in his face. "Seems like the only sensible thing to do would be to take you somewhere and fuck you senseless." An approving smile crossed her face, until he continued, "Want to make a date of it for the weekend?"

A trace of her irritation resurfaced. "You're making me wait? I don't just go around offering myself up to just anybody - you know that I had to work myself up to propositioning you like that, right?"

He raised a hand defensively, "Just exhausted from throwing myself around all evening, and the alcohol's not sitting easy. It would kind of suck to pass out before I can even enjoy ravishing the hot little virgin offering herself to me so willingly."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Smooth talker. You're lucky I really, really like you."

"And that I look a little bit like a certain actor from days gone by?"

"Especially that," she confirmed. "You better have something really special planned." With a sharp fingernail, she punctuated her point on his chest.

As they got out of his car, stepping out into the cold air of the parking lot, she laughed. "Okay, you had me going there for a bit. When you said "hotel" I totally figured you meant some sleazy little joint. This is really nice," she said critically, examining the Mariolille's spacious lobby, replete with upscale furnishings. It certainly was, but he didn't like the leer on the receptionist's face, as if the greasy little shit knew exactly what he and Jenny were up to. Sure, it was probably obvious, but what ever happened to service with a smile and a knowing wink rather than a smirk?

Jenny gawked in disbelief when they got to the suite he'd booked for the weekend. Every bit as open as the main lobby, the room seemed to be a perfect arrangement of bed, Jacuzzi and wet bar, with all the accessories one could possibly need for any of them. This was a special occasion and he hadn't seen fit to spare expense.

"Wow," she said, turning to him, blue eyes wide. "You're totally forg-" Pressing forward into her, he slipped his arms around her waist and lowered his mouth to hers., The comic 'o' of surprise on her pursed red lips begged for kissing. Whatever else might be said of his skills as a lover, he knew he could kiss like a roguish devil straight out of the black and whites, damn it. So he went in for the kill. Eager and responsive, she melted into it, letting him take the lead. When he finally broke the kiss, she gasped slightly and was about to say something when he grasped her more firmly about the midriff and hefted her up over his shoulder. Not an easy task, despite her small size, but he managed it without dropping her, and a squeal of startled laughter indicated he was doing it right.

Carrying the slender blonde to the bed, he hefted her onto it in an effort that left him somewhat breathless from exertion rather than arousal. He was in full-on mode, though, no chance of that slowing him down. Moving into the bed beside her, he slipped his arms around her again, moving in for another kiss. Shorter though, and marked by her impatience, so he turned his attention to her blouse, undoing the buttons of her blouse to give him access to her chest. Grinning like a fiend, she accommodated him, raising her arms, so that he could pull it up over her head, her large breasts spilling free. No bra, thankfully, because he doubted he could have managed the fastenings the way the adrenaline was pumping. Taking a moment, he leaned back and admired the view of her pale breasts, tipped with stiff pink nipples.

"You can admire them later, you jerk. Stop screwing around!" she protested. With a resigned sigh that earned him a giggle, he moved in again, unsnapping the button on her skirt, and sliding it down her toned legs. No panties either, and she'd shaved herself bare down there. Lying before him, she spread her legs to bare the moist flower that lay between them with all the eagerness in which she'd kissed him. He fiddled awkwardly with his belt for a moment, then gave up and got off the bed.

She watched him undress, lips pursed in a hungry smile as he quickly took off his shirt, jeans and underwear, revealing his personal pride and joy, fully erect. Confusion and irritation crossed her face as he began digging around in his pockets, until he pulled out the condom. Jenny looked somewhat more understanding, but shook her head. "Don't worry about it, I'm on the pill." He tossed the condom aside flippantly and slid back onto the bed.

Through the windowed balcony behind him, the sun had begun to set, casting the room with its flaming orange and violet hues. Under other circumstances, he might have liked to lie and watch the sunset with her, but her impatience was palpable and he moved between her legs and up toward her. Foreplay seemed unnecessary, her lips already puffy with arousal, and she was breathing heavily even though they'd made very little contact other than the kissing and light fondling.

As the girth of his cock brushed against her thigh, she gave a moan of frustration and reached for it, sending an electric thrill through the length of him. Placing it against the damp lips of her pussy, she whispered, "Do it." Nodding, he pressed forward gently into her, parting the silky flesh of her labia, probing until he found her hymen. Her tightness seemed to inflame him, and his dick felt swollen beyond belief as he tested the barrier. She whined at the slowness of his ministration, and he finally scrapped gentleness for a swift, harsh penetration. Her eyes widened at the sensation of her cherry being taken, moaning only in pleasure, seemingly without pain.

As she took the full length of him into her, she suddenly shuddered in a climax she'd already brought herself to the edge of, uttering a low cry of pleasure, staring at him with wide blue eyes. Jahn attempted to pull back so that he could begin a rhythm of fucking, but she suddenly reached up and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down onto her, bare bodies grinding against one another as she wrapped her legs around him, trying to force him deeper and cumming again as she did so.

The tight, moist pleasure of her body seemed to engulf not just his cock but his brain, and he felt himself losing control as he stared down at her, supported only by his hands on the mattress. Heat knotted up in his groin, and he felt his entire body tense as his orgasm took hold of him. Buried as far into her as the grip of her legs could force him, he could feel her cervix seem to pulse against his cockhead as his semen forced itself from his cock to her womb. She cried out, something that sounded like words, but was too incoherent to him to have any meaning or be heeded, except that it probably had something to do with the fact that he'd lost his balance and fallen on her.

That thought registered with him as his orgasm subsided and his dick softened within her. Taking stock, he realized he needn't have worried; she lay there with a blissful smile on her face, staring at the open sky through the window beyond him, before turning her gaze to his. Lips parting, she whispered at him, reaching up to tickle his chin with a pale finger as she spoke, "You better not be done." Jenny certainly had no problem with vocalizing her demands, her pleasures, profanities, and everything else, as loudly as need be

He most definitely was not done, years of pent up frustration finally in release, though he quickly found that his enthusiasm was no match for hers. She wanted to do it all, try it all - oral, anal, the works - as if screwing their brains out over the weekend was going to make up for lost time. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't, and maybe he was spending way too much time over-thinking it and not enough time – as she put it – giving her some sugar.

When what seemed like a honeymoon weekend was finally over, it felt like they really had tried everything, though she made it clear that she still had plenty of things to try yet. Wasn't sure how she could manage – he felt sore from legs, to groin, to lower back, as if he'd been in an entirely different kind of wrestling match. Jenny was even hinting at a little parting sex when he dropped her off at her house. He supposed he could make that sacrifice. Barely. The weekend should have ended on that note, somewhat sore but satisfied, as he took his moaning girlfriend from behind over her bed. Not with a bang, but a whimper of pleasure.

Instead, Jenny enthusiastically yelled his name and moments later the door banged open behind them, matched in volume by a piercing shriek, "What the fuck, you bitch!?!" As that last word resounded back and forth in his head, he couldn't help but think that it sounded strangely like 'asshole'.

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