Road Rash - Cover

Road Rash

Copyright© 2014 by oyster50

Chapter 7

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 7 - Chuck's on the road going home. It's amazing the things one might find on the side of the road. Like Jen, a bit bent, but not broken.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Oral Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Cream Pie   Slow  

Jenn's turn:

In the wee hours of the morning I rolled over and found a man in bed next to me. Understand, I have been sleeping with a man for several years, but that guy was gone from my life for almost four weeks now, and here's this guy in bed with me.

It's not my bed. Nice bed, though. High-count cotton sheets, fragrant, clean, the mattress is just the perfect firmness, the pillows caress my head, the room is cool. There's a dim light from the entirely wrong direction, so I quickly inventory my surroundings. Came up with the answer.

I am Alice, and this is Wonderland. I am completely nude, there's a bit of wetness between my thighs, and the guy next to me has no clothes on.

And I remember that I told him that I loved him.

Worse than that, he told me that he loved me. No threats from me. He was stone cold sober. And wasn't trying to get in my pants, not unless he was the most subtle, crafty bastard on the planet. He told me he loved me.

It's time to find out something. I roll onto my side, scooting up to spoon his body with mine and I put my arm around him. What's gonna happen?

His hand gently covered mine, then closed and tugged me even closer.

I always wanted a snuggler, so I went back to sleep.

I woke up again when the sun was pushing around the edges of the blinds. This time when I turned over I came face to face with the guy. Make that THE guy.

"So it wasn't a dream?" he asked.

"However dreamy it might have seemed. Good morning, Chuck."

"Good morning Lorraine," he said, watching my face.

"If you want Lorraine, then I'm Lorraine, but I'd really rather you wanted Jenn."

"Ohhhh," he said. "Jenn. I remember Jenn. I love Jenn."

"Still? No mistake? Not overcome by the moment?"

He kissed me, just a peck. I didn't let him get away with that. I reeled him in for a REAL one.

"I was worried about morning breath," he said as our lips parted.

"Do I have it?" I asked.

"No. And you're beautiful after a night's sleep."

"You're crazy." But I smiled when I said that, both outside and in.

He placed a little soft kiss on the center of my forehead, a tender thing that I'd never gotten since I outgrew them from Mom and Dad. "You should let me decide if you're beautiful or not."

"I'm adequate," I said. "All my life I was never the pretty one."

"You know, lady, I have heard that spiel before. I have news for you. Most of the world can look at a piece of copper and say it's a plain ol' piece of pipe. Me, I look at it and say it's part of the system that carries power to a city. So when I look at you, I know something you don't."

"Brown eyes. Brown hair. B-cups. The three 'B's' of mediocrity."

"Are you really SURE you want to convince me you're not beautiful?"

"I know what I am."

"You did. Yesterday morning you knew. Last night at midnight your data was no longer valid."

"So changing my status from alone to being in love means I become beautiful?"

He gave me another of those kisses that burn through my being. "Exactly. To me, for sure. Others? Maybe. But certainly to me."

"Then I will be your beauty, Chuck. Just know that it's kind of new to me. So what does Chuck do on a Sunday morning?"

"Breakfast, then church."

"Church?"

"We don't have to, if..."

"What denomination?" I asked. Mom and Dad raised me in church. I always thought that I'd do the same thing, you know, marry, go to church on Sundays, just like I was raised. Bert was none of that. Half the time, Sunday was a hangover day for him, anyway, especially that last year.

"Nothing strange. You've landed in the home of a good Baptist boy."

"I can do 'Baptist'," I said. "I was one. With Mom and Dad."

I saw the look on his face. "Last night ... How do you reconcile last night with a good Baptist girl, right?"

"Took two of us..."

"Yeah. Did, didn't it?"

"Well?" he questioned.

"Well, nothing. I love you. You love me. That's between you and me and God. Let the rest of the world worry about papers and ceremonies and such. You. Me. God. Am I missing something?"

He looked at me with those cool blue eyes, like he was studying. "So we walk in, and somebody comes up and says "'Hi, Chuck. Introduce me to your friend.' What do I say?"

"If you're very brave, you say 'This is my wife, Virginia. You can call her 'Jenn'.' Or you can introduce me as your fiancée. Or just say that I'm your friend."

"I wish you hadn't wrecked that dress you wore last night," he said. "I would want my wife to look like you did last night."

"I liked it, too. Bought two. The other one's dark green."

"I don't want to lie..."

I spun and looked at him head on. "About what? Me and you?"

He nodded. This is a decent guy on the horns of a dilemma. He needs help. I am Jenn, helper of troubled people. "Chuck, were you serious last night? No one nighters. NO quick shack jobs?"

"Yes, Jenn."

"So what do you tell 'em?"

"If I said we were married, it would be close to the truth as my heart knows it. But I don't want to put Jenn in a box."

"You put Jenn on a pedestal," I said. "Let's get dressed and go have breakfast." I paused, watching his eyes. "And church. We will go to church."

Breakfast was at a little family-owned diner. Good food. Good coffee. The place was crowded but they were able to handle it well. We chatted about everything we saw around us. Bert never wanted to hear me talk. Chuck seemed to hang on my words, then he'd actually reply to what I said, like he was actually listening.

After breakfast, church was a short jaunt. We parked and got out. He walked to my side of the truck like he was waiting for something. I hope I gave it to him when I took his hand. We walked in the same direction as others, couples, families, towards the building.

I didn't want to ACT like I was looking, but I was looking. Several heads clicked when they saw Chuck with this woman nobody knew.

I was surprised it took as long as it did. A couple, guy, wife, maybe eight year old girl and six year old boy, peeled out of the flow and headed toward us.

"Hey, Chuck," the guy said. "How's things goin'?"

"Good," he said, "Ron, this is Jenn, Jenn, Ron, Connie, Haley and Ron Junior."

"Hi, Jenn," Connie said, offering her hand.

I shook it and said, "Hello! Beautiful kids!"

The kids grinned. Connie sighed. "You're looking at almost an hour's work there."

"Jenn's my..." Chuck started.

"Fiancée," I chirped, cutting my eyes at him.

"Wow! Congratulations!" Ron blurted, pumping Chuck's hand. "When's the date?"

Chuck looked at me. I took that as my cue to continue. "Next two weeks, tops! Him. Me. And if we can get the pastor to do it ... And a couple of witnesses."

"Oh, well, when you get it done, y'all need to come over for dinner," Connie said.

"We'll do that," I said. I'd watched Chuck's face for signs of pain. Didn't see any, so I operated on the assumption that these were acceptable people.

We continued on into the church. I noted that Ron and Connie stopped and chatted with at least one other couple.

We took our seats in a pew mid-way back from the altar. I leaned over. "I think we'd being advertised," I whispered. "Next week we come early enough for Sunday School."

"Really? Two weeks, tops?" he whispered back.

"Too long?" I asked. His eyes answered for me. Blind. The guy's blind, and deluded.

And mine. Don't forget that. He's mine.

Okay, yes, I'm impressed again. Church. This guy goes to church and people recognize him, which tells me this isn't just to impress me, and besides, what kind of guy meets a girl on Friday, sleeps with her on Saturday and then takes her to church on Sunday? People used to call me quirky, but I may have just found somebody equally warped.

Church service was just about identical to every Baptist service I'd attended as a child. After the altar call, the crowd headed for the door. We, me and my Chuck, got stopped and questioned and smiled a lot. Word spreads fast.

Exactly how fast became clear when we exited. The pastor was there shaking hands.

"Hello, Chuck! I just heard..."

"Reverend Paul, this is Jenn Coleman, my fiancée. Jenn, my pastor."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," I said. "We have work for you to do."

His eyebrow arched. His wife patted him on the arm. "You want him to marry you two?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

"We'll do it!" Reverend Paul said. "Have a date?"

"Depends on if we can get a license this week. But soon!" Chuck replied. "We'll call you!"

We navigated through the parking lot with only a couple more collisions of the 'Hey, What's up?' persuasion. Chuck gallantly opened my door for me. I arranged myself in my seat. He got in and closed the door.

"You're a surprise," he said.

"Again?" I asked coyly.

"I thought we were going to say we were married."

"But then we couldn't get your pastor to do the service."

"You played it by ear?"

"Yep! Everything changed when that guy, Ron, and his family recognized you."

"What?"

"Says you show up here often enough for people to know you and not be too surprised when you show up." I paused for effect. "Therefore, I don't want to lie or give the appearance of a lie. I surmise this is YOUR church, so here's where you should be getting married. To me."

"You're nuts."

"So are you. I mean, what kind of freakazoid takes a girl to church as a means of continued access to her goodies?"

"Goodies?" he blurted. "You got GOODIES?!?"

I slapped his arm. "Beast!"

"And yes, I am nuts. You?"

"Nuts here," I laughed. I was ABLE to laugh. This guy had just navigated me through a church parking lot TWICE and had engaged in multiple conversations without resorting to 'fuck' in any of its forms. Matter of fact, I'd never heard him say the word at all. I wasn't embarrassing to him and he wasn't an embarrassment to me. So yes, 'nuts!'

"What do two nuts have for lunch after church?" he questioned.

"We could go home and build something, or ... You get a say, too," I replied.

"Why don't we hit the grocery for a couple of steaks then? We can do sandwiches for lunch and then steaks and baked potatoes for dinner."

"You know how to turn a girl's head."

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