Jean
If one were just to look at me. They would see me only from my outer shell; the pretty little red-head with the green eyes and killer smile.
If I were to walk out in public, you wouldn’t notice anything about me that was different. I stand at about five-five, five.
No real identifying marks.
I’m twenty-eight now, a far cry from when I first knew the Professor, meeting him at eleven, after all the trauma with Anne dying in my arms.
I’m living in the boat-house with my husband, Scott Summers.
We’ve been married for a few years, the most wonderful of my life.
There was going to be a party in Logan’s room. ‘When was there not?’
I knew that Scott wanted to go, but there was something else that I had in mind for us to do tonight.
“Are you ready to go, hon?” He asked me, I was still in the shower, soaping up.
“Almost.” I told him, grabbing the hand-held shower massager and washing the soap that was over me. I took a little more time with that than Scott would have liked, and positioned the jets from the massager over my clitoris. I could feel the water jets pounding over my clit, and in seconds I knew that I was going to cum, weather or not Scott liked it. My calves tightened, as did my buttocks, and thighs.
This was it, I felt the warmth of my orgasm begin to build, and soon it was shooting down my legs and arching down my body like an electric shock. I dropped the massager and felt it mist me for a few seconds before spinning erratically out of control, going passed the shower curtain and dousing the floor for a few moments. I quickly grabbed the showerhead with my telekinesis and quickly replaced it back up in its holder. I quickly rinsed off and turned the shower back off, putting it back up in the holder. I wasn’t exhausted, but I was satiated for the time being.
I dried off and stepped out of the shower.
“Come on Jean, we’re going to be late!” He hissed, impatient as always.
“Relax, Scott. This is Logan’s party after all. When has he ever been worried about people being late?” I stepped out into the bedroom, Scott was adjusting his tie, tying it and re-tying it again and again in an obsessive-compulsive need to get it straight.
“Well?” I asked, slipping on a pair of jade-green high heels and nothing else, standing behind Scott. “How do I look?”
“Fine, you look fine.”
I smiled to myself; I knew he was going to say that – the ability of telepathy notwithstanding. “Scott.” I called to him, “Turn around and look at me, please.”
“I’m sure that you look fi…” He started to say, before he rotated fully, and looked at me totally. His mouth opened wide, and the sentence died off.
“I know that I look fine.” I whispered to him, gently kissing his mouth. “But there are a few other things that I need your attention on, besides the fact of how I look.” I took hold of his zipper with my mind; gently tugged down, letting that and his belt come undone with just a thought.
“Jean… Jean… We’re going to be…” He was struggling to form words. It had been so long since we made love, that I wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to handle it.
“Shh. My love.” I kissed his lips, blocking off his sentence before it was even out of his lips. “We’ll make up for it, believe me.” I pushed his pants and boxer shorts down, revealing his chiseled abdomen.
“As team leader, its my…”
He was going to say responsibility, but as I encircled his penis and started to gently stroke, the thought escaped him. I could feel as his cock hardened in my hands.
“Jean…”
Scott’s voice was muted, and his throat was stiff – like something else of his – I smiled as I felt him fighting for control. “Yes my love?” I asked him playing the dutiful wife. My nipples had hardened and my vaginal area was sopping wet as I played with my husband. I wanted him to mount me, but there would be time for that later.
“I love you.” He whispered, and kissed the top of my head.
“I know my love, I know.” I could feel him harden inside my hands.
“Jean… Jean!” He was worried, that he was going to cum on the bed. He wanted to warn me, but that was both unpractical, and unnecessary as both our psychic rapport, and the unconscious thrusting of his hips were all I needed to know that he was on the brink.
“How do you want it?” The image of him cumming and spurting globules of sperm upon my face entered my mind. “All right baby.” I cooed. Scott was an orphan and until we started to date, he hadn’t had that many relationships. I think that I was his first. First friend, first girl, first wife, first anything; I knew for a fact that this was a fantasy of his, another first. For both him and I… my first facile.
I led him to the bed, and lay down upon my back, letting him place his penis between my breasts. “Come on baby.”
“Jean, I don’t think that I’m going to be able to….”
“Shh.”
I felt him slide his penis in and out of the cleft of my breasts. I could feel it in the back of his pineal gland that he was just about to cum. Yet there were still a few minutes, and if I wanted, I could take control of his muscles completely, and stop him from cumming at all.