Beggars Can't Be...
Chapter 8: A Cup of My Own

Copyright© 2000 by Kenny N Gamera. All rights reserved.

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 8: A Cup of My Own - Kenny has been hurt before. Can he get over his past hurt and open up to new love?

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Light Bond   Polygamy/Polyamory   Food   Oral Sex   Violence  

I pulled up to the curb just as Jenny unlocked her apartment. She waited for me at the door. She was smiling.

At me.

“I don’t know what you see in me?”

“Don’t worry about it, Kenny. Just get here and fuck me.”

Two shakes of a lamb’s tail later, our clothes were scattered over the familiar ground of the foyer. Jenny and I were, however, scattered over the living room this time.

All the lights were out, which relieved me of seeing Sherry and Kim.

Kim.

My thoughts shifted to moments before and the girls at MacBurgerSlut’s, Collen and Kimmy. And what Jenny had said. I was confused, but at least of all the emotions that I had swimming through my mind, confusion had the comfort of familiarity.

I lay on my back, where Jenny had pushed me, in the geometric center of the floor. She got to her knees next to me, but when I reached to pull her over my face, she slapped my hands away.

“No, lover. Just enjoy.”

She bent over and took my penis into her mouth. Once again, as if by magic, I felt myself grow. At my full, if modest length, she backed away and pulled a hair from her teeth. She winked at me.

“Occupational hazard.”

She flipped her hair over her far shoulder. Holding onto my penis, she used it as an axis to pivot around.

This gave me a view of her in profile. I pushed myself up to elbows so I could watch her in the dim light that came from the foyer.

My eyes traced the curve of her back from her neck down to her smooth hindquarters. The twin, smallish cones of her breasts hung down motionless without the slightest hint of sway. Her dark, pink nipples pointed to the floor, noticeably hard. Her rear rested on the backs of her heels with her slim legs drawn beneath her body. She appeared as if in prayer, except for the object, my penis, in her hand.

For a moment, she merely studied my erection. The look of devotion in this study caused me twitch. I expected her to smile at this sign; she did not. She paid no mind to me at all. Instead, she closed her eyes as if concentrating on something holy. In the low light, I could almost see the glow of a halo around her head.

I shifted so the weight of my body rested on the arm away from her. This allowed me the use of my other to lightly touch her hair. She did not move as my fingers made contact, nor did she respond as I began to stroke her with the outsides of my fingers. After my third or fourth stroke, she opened her mouth and lowered it over and around my penis.

I so completely resisted the urge to thrust up and deeper into her, that I failed to notice the urge itself.

She did all the work; she willed me to let her do it. I let the sensations begin to overwhelm my ability to keep track of them.

Time slowed and my world shrunk to just the sensations from my engulfed penis and the sight of Jenny’s bobbing head atop her otherwise motionless form. I remember neither the soft feeling of her hair nor the dull ache of the weight of my body on my elbows.

Her head moved up along the length of my shaft. As she rose, her tongue slid along the vein of the urethra. At the top, the tongue would then curl around my glans and feel the entire surface without removing me from her mouth.

The she would glide down to bottom, starting to swallow me, with the bottom of her tongue this time sliding down the length of my penis. At the back of her mouth, the very edge of her throat, she paused for an instant’s wait, before again raising her head.

She kept up this slow torturous rhythm as my body slowly started to relax from the tension that had built up and my mind began to focus more and more on the pleasure signals that her actions were generating in my body. The need built with each bob of Jenny’s head. I felt my body begin to twitch and my buttock clench and unclench. Jenny sensed it as well; when my penis reached the back of her mouth, she relaxed the muscles at the entrance of her throat. I felt myself travel inside.

I closed my eyes. I threw my head back. I ejaculated down her throat as I orgasmed with a loud bellow.

After a moment, I became coherent enough in my thoughts to return to awareness. Jenny released me from her mouth and scooted herself against my upper body. I lowered myself as she did, making it easier for her to cuddle into the crook of my arm. Her head lay across my chest, and I brought my arm over our bodies with my other hand resting pocessively on her far hip. Jenny drifted asleep.

Seeing as how I woke with a start a moment later, I must have drifted off myself. Given the cramp in my crooked arm, it had been for more than the afore mentioned moment, as well. I gently slid out from underneath Jenny’s slumbering form. Feeling self conscience, I sneaked off to the foyer and grabbed my underpants.

After briefing myself, went into the kitchen. In the dim light of a street lamp coming through the window, I searched in one of the cupboards for a glass to use for some water. The light switched on and stung my eyes. I turned to see Kim.

“Leave her alone.” Her voice had the calm tone of a person who wasn’t but was trying hard for appearance’s sake to seem that way. Her balled fists and tear filled eyes merely confirmed the lie in her voice as being a lie.

“Kim, I...”

“Leave her alone,” she said, each word clearly and precisely formed. “You don’t deserve her. None of you deserve her. Just leave us alone and find someone else to use.”

She stared at me silently after this. I just numbly stared back.

After a silent, awkward eternity, I opened my big mouth,

“Uh...”

The tears that filled her eyes at last began to overflow and run down her cheeks. She turned and ran away. Earlier in life, I had learned from my utterly evil twin sisters that at this point if I were meant to follow that it was merely to be weakly flailed at in a show of anger. Chances were that I was not meant to follow. I let her run.

I, also, tried to decide if it would be okay to get a drink of water. I was thirsty, but it struck me as a bit cold to just go back to what I had been doing before she had confronted me. Think about it this way, if this were a scene from a movie (one without gunfire, explosions, and computer generated special effects, the kind reviewers like), I know that I would be thinking asshole.

I left the kitchen (unsatisfied) to find Jenny gone. I went down the hall to her room. Kim’s door was open, again. This time, Sherry lay on the bed, unbound and unclothed and unawake. I summoned the strength needed to turn my gaze away and so have nothing else to report at this time. Jenny’s door was closed but ajar. My hand stopped before it had reached the knob.

I heard sobbing.

The only other person (other than myself and I was accounted for) that I had notice had been crying tonight was Kim.

I turned and walked away. Laying down on the couch and using my shirt as a blanket, I attempted 1to fall asleep as I fought with the feeling that I should be doing something.

I, however, lacked the first clue about what sort of something I should be doing. Sleeping on a couch is bad enough without confused guilt. I gave thanks, therefore, that Sunday would be a day off.

I somehow managed to force in a little sleep, yet morning still arrived way too soon. I lay beneath my shirt more several minutes before the final gurgling sounds of Mr. Coffee (tm) convinced me to move towards the kitchen.

I stopped that journey only long enough to start trying to find my pants.

 
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