Temporary Girlfriend
Copyright© 2025 by Wolf
Chapter 26: Another Talented Instructor
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 26: Another Talented Instructor - A chance meeting between Josh and Megan leads a day later to pleading with her to become his ‘’temporary’ girlfriend and rescue him from becoming the butt of his family’s ire. Megan agrees. The family fully embraces her, and despite the ‘temporary’ label, they eventually wed and have their own sexual honeymoon with friends, involving her sister and others, living in a loving, polyamorous setting.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Sharing Incest Group Sex Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Anal Sex Exhibitionism Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Voyeurism
Dave Lafontaine stood at one of the white boards; the board filled with the circuitry of the entire electrical system of the Cessna Citation I’d been learning about all week. There were also two oversize photographs of the four circuit breaker panels on the jet. He finished off one last thought about the tutorial he’d been giving me, “So, if the ground power is on and the auxiliary power unit or APU doesn’t start, this relay will never trip and put the aircraft on its own power source.”
I nodded. I’d taken about twenty pages of notes from Dave’s two-hour tutorial. This was almost more than I wanted to know about dinosaurs, as the old joke goes.
“Now one more question for you,” Dave said, “How about some company for dinner? I know a neat little place just down the road that had some nice music.”
“Horse Feathers?” I retorted, knowing that it probably was.
Dave looked surprised. I told him, “I ate there last night with Greg.”
Dave said, “Oh, he didn’t mention where you two ate. He did say you went out and had a great conversation. He said he learned a lot and that I am to ask you to repeat everything you told him.” He looked hopeful.
I laughed, “Now that’s a tall order since I don’t have perfect memory or playback capabilities. Don’t you want to ask me about the Citation’s systems?”
He frowned slightly and said, “Not really. I much rather get to know you better. So much of our time has been around ground school. Now let’s open up ‘Megan School’ so I can learn about you.”
“Smooth,” I told him with a grin. He grinned back now that I’d caught him in a blatant flirt.
He said, “Okay, then, how about I cook you dinner at my place? I am actually a pretty accomplished man in the kitchen. What do you feel like?”
“I accept your offer and I feel like an omelet with everything in the world in it,” I told him.
He checked his watch and said, “I’ll leave now and run by the grocery store for a few things. Give me about forty-five minutes before you leave then drive over to my place. Is that okay?”
“Yes, that’ll give me time for a pass through all these notes,” I rifled through the pages on my notebook. “Address for my phone GPS? Directions?”
Dave took my phone and entered the requisite data. Things were pretty simple since he lived near the airport and in a condo just off the main highway.
An hour later I knocked on Dave’s door. He opened the door with a smile. I moved into his arms and gave him a long and very hot kiss on the lips. I even slipped a little tongue in at the end before he had a chance to respond. He didn’t expect any of that.
“Thank you,” Dave said as I finally let him free. “I like welcomes like that!” He was panting slightly.
I’d brought a bottle of San Pellegrino – a sparkling water that tasted to me almost as good as some wines. Dave took the chilled bottle and poured it into two wine goblets and presented me with one. We clinked glasses, toasted each other and I sat on a bar stool at his kitchen counter as he went to the other side to work on dinner.
I looked around the condo, taking in Dave’s decorating, art and the layout of the place. There was no doubt the unit belonged to a pilot. Around the entire room and down a hallway I could see, every piece of art tied to aviation in some way. Many of the pieces were not cheap posters but, upon closer inspection, original oils or acrylics. There were paintings of pastoral scenes from above, a pilot’s perspective, with a bi-plane in a field; another of a modernistic view of the ILS lights on a runway just before touchdown; another an impressionistic piece of a jet banking away from a majestic thunderstorm – a bolt of lightning illuminated the dark sky.
“These are good!” I exclaimed.
“Thank you,” he said, “They’re all mine.”
“They’re yours? You did them all?” Dave nodded and gave me a goofy grin.
“You are a man of many talents. You could sell these for a lot of money. They’re fantastic. I’d even like to buy the one over your mantel if it’s for sale.” I gestured to the plane avoiding the thunderstorm. “Heck, I’d buy most of them – ALL of them.”
“Well, let me think about that. By the time I paint them I’ve fallen in love with them so much I hate to part with them. I’ve given a couple away for charitable reasons – silent auction and such – but never sold any. One went for $725 at a silent auction.”
“Just give me first dibs,” I asked.
“If you try the powder room and the master bedroom you can see some of my photographic work too. Those pieces are not related to aviation as you’ll see.” He gestured down the short hallway.
The bathroom had some black and white and sepia portraits of older people. Every one of the photos captured a mood, a look, a depth into the person’s personality; the all showed an awesome ability with the camera. I had to tear myself away from the seven photos.
Further down the hallway I entered the master bedroom. The pictures on the wall showed the same skill and ability to capture a mood. In this case, however, the photographs were larger and of varying sizes. Dave had left the aviation features behind; each painting captured an erotic scene of a man and woman making love and even in their orgasms. Then I saw there was also a cluster of a dozen photos on another wall.
The photos required study in some cases to verify what you were seeing: the woman’s pussy, a tongue and a flaccid cock covered in juices, legs locked behind a back as two bodies moved so fast their bodies blurred, breasts with erect nipples, two nude females kissing, and so on. Each photograph displayed a sensuous aura and inspired.
I strolled back to the kitchen. I said to Dave, “Trying to inspire me?”
He laughed. “Ah, you found the pictures in the bedroom. I took those about two years ago.”
“Are you the guy?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Two women?” I asked.
“They were a package. I loved both of them – still do, but they moved away about a year ago. They lived next door but we all slept in that bed most of the time.”
“Ménage-á-trois,” I stated. Dave nodded.
“So did Greg tell you about our conversations last evening?” I asked.
He chuckled, “He said you and I shared a common philosophy about relationships only you explained it more clearly than I did.”
“We talked about open relationships quite a lot,” I told him. “I had to shift Greg’s definition of the term from thinking it was just about sex to a unique partnership that touched every aspect of your life. You share yourself but remain independent and strong.”
“I think he got that now, and you do say it better than I could,” Dave offered.
“Did he say anything about the relationship I have with Josh?” I asked.
“No, but from his comments on the discussion I presume you and Josh have an open relationship.”
“We do.” I paused and asked, “Are you in a relationship now? Anyone special?”
“I am a man without portfolio,” Dave said with a smile. “I know that will change some day but I’m not rushing it. I find it hard to find a girl that can handle an open relationship. Most women I meet want an ‘exclusive, monogamous, stereotypical TV Pleasantville, little house and picket fence’ relationship. I know I’d get tired of that in about a week.”
“Go on,” I said.
“The person or persons I seek would probably be professional women, because they’d be meeting and dealing with other people and business situations. It’d hone their personalities and make them stronger. There wouldn’t be time for petty jealousies or arguments. We’d talk openly about everything. The level of respect would be awesome. We share all the traditional roles that make up a relationship. We look for and share peak experiences, even those we enjoyed with somebody else.”
“What about your friends – in the photos?”
“Marlene and Kim,” Dave said. “I thought they were lesbians until they opened up to me. They taught me a lot about relationships and helped me clarify what I’m looking for. Marlene got transferred to San Diego with Bank of America. Kim is a strategy consultant and can work from anyplace with an airport and broadband. I miss the two of them but they had the stronger and longer ties. It wouldn’t have been right for me to hold them back, particularly Marlene – it was a big promotion. I’ve gone out to see them twice but it’s not the same as being involved with each other on a daily basis.”
I went around to Dave and he opened his arms to me. We kissed very tenderly and then more passionately, adding our tongues to the kiss to reinforce our feelings for each other.
Dave finally said, “If you continually molest the cook you won’t get your dinner! What you seem interested in is called dessert and I am as intrigued by that thought as you apparently are.”
I kissed the end of his nose and went back to my seat. Dave finished chopping mushrooms, peppers, onion, parsley, and a few other things, leaving each in piles around the edge of the cutting board. Our eggs flew into a dish and he used a whisk to bubble them, gradually adding some of the chopped ingredients as well as many herbs and spices.
We ate side by side at the counter consuming everything that he’d cooked. We kissed often. I helped him do some clean-up and put-away.
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