Chapter 8

It's kind of hard on a guy when he thinks one thing is going to happen and something completely different takes place instead. When Jennifer suddenly got naked, obviously voluntarily, even by choice, Bob's defenses took a hit. When, in the sudden darkness, he was covered with squirming naked girl, his defenses sagged significantly. As her lips mashed to his face, searching hungrily for his lips, his arm, upon which she was now lying, just naturally tightened, pulling her against him.

Then all that danger he'd been feeling washed back over him and the defenses he had left rallied.

"What are you doing?" he asked into the mouth of the girl who was trying to eat his lips.

"I l-l-love you," said the girl.

"We can't do this, Jennifer."

"Y-y-yes we can," she panted.

Panic began to send red hot sparks into Bob's system.

"I'm not going to fuck you, Jennifer!"

"Ok-k-kay," she said, kissing his upper lip and then his lower lip.

"I mean it, Jen!" he said, not yet pushing her away.

"I s-s-said okay! K-k-kiss me, B-b-bob."

"No." he said. He began to think about how he was going to get her off him without touching certain parts of her anatomy.

Jennifer's hand slid down his chest and across his abdomen like some kind of racing snake. She found his rampant penis as if she'd done so hundreds of times and her fingers gripped it tightly. He winced, but not from pain. It was from the complete surprise at what she was doing.

"K-k-kiss me, Bob!" she said again.

She didn't wait, but started raining kisses on any part of his lips she could find with her own.

"Oh baby," he groaned. "Don't do this."

She pulled her face away a few inches. The fires that raged in her demanded some kind of satisfaction. She didn't know what that was, but she knew she needed something important from this man, and he wasn't cooperating.

"Either k-k-kiss me or f-f-fuck me," she said intensely. "J-j-just D-d-do s-s-something!" She ground her pussy on his thigh and he felt the slipperiness of her arousal making his skin wet.

Men are, by nature, problem solvers. A man sees a problem and he just naturally tries to think of some way to make the problem go away, or at least get better. In the odd case, a man might retreat, if he knows he just isn't equipped to take action. But quite often a man will try to resolve an issue, even if he isn't really up to the task.

In this case, Bob had lots of experience and no small amount of expertise in dealing with a horny woman. In his male mind, it occurred to him that if Jennifer had an orgasm, she'd calm down and he might be able to defuse the situation a bit. The alternative was to shove her away and get out of bed. Even his male mind knew that she would view that as rejection and things would most likely then get very ugly.

What would you do in that situation?

He knew he couldn't fuck her, as compelling and delightful an idea as that was. You can't "undo" a fuck. But there are dozens of other ways to bring a woman to her own completion that aren't as final as fucking her.

And, to be honest, something in him craved hearing what she'd sound like in the throes of ecstasy that he was creating in her.

So he kissed her.

When he began cooperating with his lips, her enthusiasm became more centered. Her lips felt alive under his, moving, nipping, searching for something. He gave her his tongue and, instead of drawing back, she sucked at it and employed her own. She was a natural at kissing, and his dick felt like it might break off in her hand.

He realized that he needed to get this over with as soon as possible, because the urge to sink his prick into her buttery depths was getting harder and harder to resist.

To that end he slid a hand down her side to the hip that was slowly humping against his thigh. Breaking that weld wasn't easy. A lot of her energy was going into rubbing her pussy against his thigh. But when she felt his hand trying to get between them she relaxed a little and he was able to slide his fingers into the swamp that was her sex.

Her leg lifted automatically as she rolled her lower body away from him. He didn't work up to it. He knew she'd had her own fingers in her, and suspected her hymen was long gone. As he slid a thick middle finger between slick pussy lips he found he was right, and kept going until the base of his finger pressed her young clitty.

She gasped into his mouth and moaned as she was penetrated, most likely deeper than she'd ever been penetrated before. He curled his finger, in case she had a G-spot, and then simulated the motion of the clitty whizzer, shaking his hand in short, rapid, side to side strokes.

She went off like a firecracker, and her groan was music to his ears as her lips went slack and her mouth fell open. Her gasps were timed with the thrust of her breasts against his chest as she went mostly rigid in his arms, her groan escalating into a high pitched whine.

She'd cum so quickly that it surprised Bob, and he was afraid that just the one orgasm might not be enough. He pushed with the hand that was cupping her pussy, and she flopped onto her back as he rolled with her. Her left leg went wide, her knee bent.

He couldn't resist tasting the nipples that had so recently felt like hot coals burning into his side. While his lips searched for and found them, he stopped moving his hand. He left his finger imbedded in her, but just pressed gently on her clit as she gasped for air.

Then, when he thought she'd had enough time to recuperate from the first orgasm, he started stroking his finger in and out of her, raking the callused skin across her inflamed clit. She didn't have to learn the dance her hips began to do, thrusting up and then relaxing as she felt what it was like to have something thick and long sliding in and out of her sex. She was a natural at that, too. She just cooed and moaned and yipped with little catches of breath as she let the delicious feelings sweep through her.

She learned, almost instantly, how to regulate this feeling, too. She couldn't press her pussy against the vibrating seat right now, but she could tell him what to do.

"A l-little more!" she gasped, completely happy with what she was getting from this man she loved so much.

He let the nipple he was sucking on slip from between his lips.

"Okay, baby," he breathed.

It was surreal, for Bob, as he rested on one elbow beside her. He was as hard as he'd ever been in his life, but the urge to climb on top of her was more of a distant call than a driving force. She was what mattered right now. She'd had to change hands when she rolled, but that hand was still gripped tightly around his prick. Her body motions had had almost the same effect as if she was jacking him off, even though she was just holding on tightly. He already knew that when she was done, he'd get up, go to the bathroom, and spank the shit out of the monkey. That was perfectly all right. It wouldn't take long. When he was done in the bathroom, the situation would have been defused and the danger avoided.

"Yes," she panted. "Oh yes!"

He increased the motion, going faster and then, when she arched, he pulled his finger out and used three fingertips to whip back and forth across her clit as she gave an agonized groan of completion. Her heels came up and went hard into the mattress as she lifted her butt eight inches off the surface, her right knee slamming into the front of Bob's thigh. The high pitched keening wail came again and she fell limply back to the bed. Her hand finally released his prick and he leaned forward to kiss the upper swell of her right breast.

He rolled away from her, and she gasped, "Don't go!"

"I have to go to the bathroom," he said softly.

"C-come back!" she panted.

"I will," he assured her.

He started jacking his meat while he stumbled across the darkened room. Instead of turning a light on and ruining his night vision, he simply stroked until it was time and then sat down hard on the john, bending his prick downward to spurt into the bowl as he milked it. It seemed to keep drooling spunk forever, and he heard his own rasping pant in his ears. There was a strong urge to lean back and just stay there, but he knew that would be uncomfortable.

When he went back into the main room he could see her, still lying there, knees bent and thrown wide. Her eyes were closed and her hands were lying by her sides. He could still hear the whisper of air between her lips as she dragged in deep breaths. As he approached the bed her legs straightened slowly. He got carefully onto the bed, aware that, as he walked, another drip had started through his now soft cock and might be about to fall from the tip.

"Better?" he whispered.

"Ohhhh yes," she sighed.

"You really should go back to your room now," he said.

Her head rolled toward him.

"H-hold m-me," she commanded.

"For a little bit," he negotiated.

He couldn't believe how good she felt in his arms, pressed against him, her breath hot on his shoulder. She snuggled against him, but when she laid a leg on top of his, she didn't press her pussy against him.

"I love you," she sighed.

"I love you, too, baby." His words came out in a sigh as well.

"Th-thank you."

He didn't say anything. He knew, somehow, that she wasn't going to get up and go back to her room. He knew that she'd want to stay. He worried a little about that. He worried a little about what might happen later.

But what worried him more than anything was that he wanted her to stay, too.

He didn't wake up in the night, or have a dream and roll over and ravish Jennifer. And she slept dreamlessly as well. He hadn't set the alarm, so it was left to them to wake whenever their bodies told them to. As it happened, she woke first.

When consciousness came to her, Jennifer knew exactly where she was, and her memory of the previous night was both immediate and vivid. Only the back of her hand was touching Bob. She was on her stomach, lying more or less straight, as she usually slept. She didn't spread out in a bed and, while Bob did, the king sized bed in the motel was large enough that he'd been able to do that without trespassing on "her" side of the bed.

Jennifer's first thoughts about what had happened were to do a silent physical evaluation of her body. She expected to feel different, and was mildly surprised when she didn't. Then she reflected on the intangibles. How did she feel about what had happened? Had this changed the way she thought about Bob? Should she feel guilty?

In rapid succession, her mind provided answers to the questions.

She felt great. The only difference in the way she felt about Bob was that she wanted more of the same from him. She did not feel guilty, and it really didn't matter if someone thought she should, because she knew she'd never feel guilty about it.