Monica made love to Chandler. She rode atop him, slowly, languorously grinding her groin against his. She worked gradually toward an orgasm. She would bring it about at the time of her choosing. Chandler lay outstretched on a fluffy sheepskin, blissfully enjoying her ministrations. They had music on the stereo, and nothing but time. Monica sat up, erect and free-standing, sitting on his pelvis.
Monica changed positions. She leaned forward, grasped his shoulders with her hands, and arched her back to bring more of her abdomen in contact with his. Monica moaned more and more frequently, often with her eyes closed. She made another change. She now made small circles with her groin, first counterclockwise twenty times, then clockwise twenty times. Monica thrived on order and symmetry.
When she decided it was time for her to come, she opened her eyes to look into Chandler's. She rose up again vertically, hands free. He was in for a treat. She thrust her hips forward sharply. He had anticipated this. She always wanted to make eye contact when she induced her orgasm. During the orgasm itself, however, her habits varied.
Monica thrust forward fast and hard, like a whore. She tossed her head about, hair flying. She moaned louder. She heard something. To her right, her parents were staring at her. Either Monica had lost track of time, or they were back from the store early. Her father ran upstairs faster than he had in years. Her mother stood and watched, with a wry smile. Monica didn't miss a beat. She was too close to stop. She dropped her head, her hair hanging down and shrouding her face. A few guttural noises, a few shudders, and she was done. Chandler was frozen in terror.
Monica's mother said, "We'll give you two a few minutes of privacy."
Chandler spoke words he never thought possible, "Please get off me, Monica." They detached, and fled upstairs to Monica's room. Mercifully, the door to her parents' room was shut as they streaked by. Inside, Jack and Judy Geller embraced and laughed.
Chandler and Monica took a quick shower together, put on some actual clothes instead of their customary sweats, and ventured downstairs, holding hands. Jack was sitting in his overstuffed chair, entirely hidden by the newspaper he was reading. As the couple entered the living room, his voice was heard, "Your mother's in the kitchen, Monica. Chandler, you're with me." They kissed and separated. Chandler trudged to the end of the sofa closest to Jack's chair and plopped down, irritated that he was to get a talking to at his age.
Jack put down the paper and said, "So, what are your intentions as regards my daughter?"
Chandler saw through this, "Ha, Ha, Jack! Very funny."
Jack switched to a buddy-to-buddy style of speaking. He leaned close to Chandler, and said, quietly, "Seriously, Chandler...How was she?"
Chandler said, "I'm glad you're having fun with this, Jack."
