Beggars Can't Be...
Chapter 10: Warm and Fuzzy, Black and Blue

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

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 10: Warm and Fuzzy, Black and Blue - 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 was in the shower when the doorbell rang. I grabbed a towel and, without due regard to modesty, wrapped it loosely around my lower body. I left a trail of drips behind me. I made use of the front door as a protective block, however. I peered around the side to find Sherry (still in uniform) and Jenny. Jenny appeared to be crying.

Modesty then totally neglected, I asked them inside.

Other than my invitation, none of us spoke. Sherry placed a small overnight bag that she carried next to a wall as we entered the living room. She took a seat on the old upholstered chair that I had gotten from my folks. I sat down on my one sister’s old couch. Jenny cuddled next to me and shoved her tear-streaked face into my neck. I looked at Sherry. She looked back at me. Her expression was blank. I could only guess what mine was, but she looked the way I felt.

At last, she sighed and said, “I assume that Jenny can stay here.”

“Yes, but...”

“Ken,” she interrupted whatever I was about to ask (I don’t remember what), “I don’t want Jenny around Kim right now. I don’t trust the bitch with her, but Jenny has nowhere to go, except maybe a hotel room. I don’t want her alone like that either.”

“Kim?”

“Is at home in a very uncomfortable position right now. I have a couple of friends watching her, but I will need to go back to finish her punishment.” She paused for a moment before adding, “assuming?”

“Assuming what?”

“Assuming that you don’t press charges.” Her voice turned all-official.

Jenny moved her head from where it had pressed against me. I turned to look at her at her face. If ever a face could be said to be pleading, this would be it. Her head shook side to side, and the tears increased their flow a little.

I kissed her forehead and told her in a soft voice, “of course not.”

“Thank you.” Sherry answered, sans the cop voice.

“Jenny doesn’t want to...”

It was my turn to interrupt. “What Jenny doesn’t want will not happen.”

“She doesn’t want to leave Kim, Ken.” Sherry’s paused, and Jenny snuggled back into my neck. “She wanted to stay, but I couldn’t let her. Not after what Kim had said to her.”

“What did... ?”

“I won’t repeat it, Ken,” she answered. “But after hearing how angry she is, I wouldn’t feel safe with the two of them in the same apartment.”

“Kimmy wouldn’t hurt me, Sherry.” Jenny’s voice came from against my body, sounding soft and hoarse. “You should know that.”

“Jen, she was doing a good job of hurting Ken earlier tonight. I don’t want her turning on you, too. And she might, I’ve seen this sort of thing before.” Sherry sighed. “Maybe after I get her calmed down and after a little counselling, you two can get back together.”

Sherry looked at me with a knowing stare. “But I don’t know. Once a relationship turns violent, things usually don’t work out.”

“Kimmy wouldn’t hurt me, Sherry.”

Sherry started to respond, but with her mouth starting to open, I interjected. “Sherry, leave her be. She has had a pretty massive shock.”

“So have you,” Jenny looked up at me and somehow forced a smile. I smiled back at her, ignoring Sherry again.

“Oh, I’m a nerd. I’m used to getting beat up. Especially, by girls. I’ll tell you about the time that the JV cheerleaders beat me up and threw me in the dumpster, sometime.”

She smiled bigger (which is, I know, not anywhere near correct usage, but I liked the way it sounded. I promise not to do it again) and laughed a short but real laugh.

With that respite done, though, she then started to cry again in silent tears that ran down her cheeks. Her face returned to its nest against my shoulder. I held her tightly against me.

“Ken,” At the sound of her voice, I glanced back over at Sherry. “We’ll talk again later. Me and you. Just take care of her. Okay?”

I nodded my head and held Jenny next to me as Sherry found her own way to the door. As Jenny continued crying, I just held her tight. Talking didn’t seem right at the moment. Holding did feel right. She cried until sleep overcame her.

I quickly followed her into sleep. We dozed together on the coach, each other’s body acting to prop the other’s up, but somehow I woke around dawn in my bed next to Jenny. I could not remember waking up and moving from the living room. This brought back uncomfortable.

Jenny stirred and moved more tightly against me as I stared up at the ceiling. I eased my one arm around her again, as the other lazily traced the top of my old scar, near and over a new bruise. The paint on the ceiling had long sweeping brush marks. One long, brown brush hair trapped in the white paint stood out in the half-light of the new day.

“Kimmy.”

I turned to look at Jenny. She still slept, but she mumbled in that sleep. I squeezed her against me and moved my other hand away from my leg to the top of her thin arm.

With a soft touch, I slid the tips of my ring and index finger along its curve. I traced a path from her upper arm to her wrist, then retreating back to where I started, until, at last, I fell back asleep.

“Good morning, Kenny.” I looked up into two of the most beautiful bloodshot eyes I could ever dare to imagine. The owner of those peepers gave me a kiss on the lips with a good smooch sound resulting. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

I moved as much as I could, which wasn’t much. Jenny was crouched over me in a position similar to a wrestler pinning an opponent. Also, I felt that special stiffness that only comes with a good beating; each movement caused another bruise to shout out “here” as if at a roll call. I returned the smooch.

“Nope. I feel as if I was beaten up by an angry lesbian.” I paused before adding, “Wait, I was beat up by an angry lesbian.”

“I’m glad that you can joke about it,” she replied then returned the smooch.

I reached up and smooched her back. A huge sergeant major of a bruise announced that all were “present and accounted for, Suh!” I winced with the stab of pain.

“That’s what tiggers do best.”

The smooch found its way back to me.

“You’re not a tigger.”

“I never said...” smooch “ ... I was.”

“Brat!” She smooched me.

I smooched her, “I am rubber, you are glue. What you say bounces off me and it stays on you.”

“You,” smooch, “messed it up, doofus.”

“Did not,” I returned the smooch, “dorkwad.”

After that, things became rather childish as we continued to play hot potatoe with the smooch. At last, I gave up. After she had given me the last kiss, I asked,

“what time is it, by the way.”

“Time for you to call into school and work sick.” Jenny gave me one last kiss, making her one more up on me, and pulled away. “Sherry called in for us last night, but you’ll have to do it for yourself.”

 
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