I meant the original Escort Neighbour story to be a "one of". It didn't matter to me what happened next. I would rather the reader be free to imagine many happy endings; however, I've had many people ask me for more and so I thought, why not? What happens next? How would a married man deal with a rich escort neighbour? Where would their relationship go? Could they have a future that was sustainable and realistic? So here is Part Two. Please enjoy the continuing story or Bill and Jennifer. You need to read Part One, first.
Oh, one last thing: if you don't like ass-play then don't read this and rate me one star like some other reader did with another one of my stories. Move on.
*****
That night, after having sex with Jennifer in my fort in the backyard, I had dinner with my wife Nancy. I had made my homemade ravioli, filled with crab, and covered with a lovely Béarnaise sauce. Sadly, we had a cheap twenty dollar Pinot Grigio to wash it down. But it was a lovely meal coupled with a fresh salad.
In the middle of dinner, I found myself shaking and excused myself and went to the bathroom. Guilt wracked me like no other time when I had cheated on my wife. It surprised me with the intensity and I spent time just staring at my face in the mirror looking for signs of the guilt that was consuming me. My normal face stared back, but I was certain my eyes were a little wider than normal.
Jennifer had gone home soon after we had fooled around. I had gone inside extremely satisfied and showered. I had a glass of scotch and went outside to have a smoke. I had looked up at Jennifer's window and found her smiling down at me, chest bared, and her gorgeous breasts pressed up against the window glass. I had smiled and waved and felt warmth course through me while staring at her beautiful, tooth-filled smile. She waved and disappeared inside and then the guilt hit me again.
I shrugged it off and sat confused sipping my scotch. The only time I had ever felt guilt like this was after the first time I had cheated on my wife with a service provider in New Zealand. This time it was different. It was far more intense and weakened me physically.
Now in my bathroom looking at myself I tried to find a way past it. I didn't understand why it was happening. Thoughts of Jennifer kept flooding my mind. I could see her again, lying back with her legs spread and holding her pussy lips open for me to see all of her. She was so hot and so beautiful. My cock surged in my pants. I remembered the first feel of her breasts in my hands. So soft, so warm, and with her nipples so responsive and hard against my palms.
I remembered how wet she was. It had been so long since I had felt a woman so wet for me. To have that effect on a woman is empowering. And I remembered her taste. So sweet, so fragrant. My mouth watered and I needed to taste her again. I needed to plunge my cock back inside her and see her eyes light up in joy. I needed to see those green, green eyes boring into mine from a gorgeous face framed in luxurious red hair.
My cock hurt with strain. I pulled it out and stroked it furiously thinking of Jennifer. I jerked myself for only a minute before my cum surged out and splashed onto the bathroom counter. I sucked in gulps of air and squeezed the last drops of my cum free. I looked into the mirror and saw my cheeks flushed red.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I questioned myself.
I never cum that fast.
I could only cum once a day these days. Age has a way of slowly a man down. Sexual desire was always there hovering, but my ability to pleasure myself had dwindled.
And now today I've cum three times. She has such an effect on me.
But why the guilt? What the fuck is up with that?
I calmed down and cleaned up using a wet wipe on my cock. I washed my hands and headed back to the dinner table. Nancy looked up briefly and then returned to reading an eBook on her iPad. I sat and we finished our meal in silence. When we were done, I said I would clean up and Nancy kissed my cheek and said she was heading to bed.
She always went to bed early. I would go to bed around midnight to find her snoring loudly. I would lay on my back and fatigue took me and I would roll over onto my stomach and think dirty thoughts about women until sleep would take me. Nancy always tossed and turned all night and she would rise early and be gone for work before I staggered out of bed. Usually exhausted.
She had gone to a sleep lab once. They diagnosed her with sleep apnoea. She now had a CPAP but rarely used it. Continued exhaustion had sent me to the same sleep lab. I still remember the specialist talking to me the next morning.
"The problem, sir, isn't you. Your problem is your wife."
Nancy didn't find it funny. I did, because the sentence had so many meanings to me.
I should mention I travel sometimes for book interviews. When I am away from Nancy, my sleep is fantastic. I can get better rest with less sleep in a hotel room than I can lying next to my wife. That's my life and I'm used to it. Kind of. It sucks having no sleep and no sex. It's frustrating.
The truth is: my frustrations with my life pours out of me into my books. The erotic novels are raw and emotional and filled with depraved sex. It's what I need and want. I've imagined all sorts of sex and some of it surprises me. For example, for a while, I was certain I was bi-sexual. I had a long period of craving cock that surprised me greatly. Then I realised I didn't crave cock so much as the liberty of having crazy sex and there being a guy there. My lust is so great that it just factored in. Porn probably is much to blame. I watch cocks plunge into holes and spew cum all the time. The good news is when I'm not pleasuring myself, and when I force myself to think of sex with a man, I feel quite repulsed. But, when in the throes of wild imagined sex with women - usually more than one at a time - throwing a cock into the mix doesn't faze me at all. Strange, isn't it?
I'm not sure what it means, but I've never had to worry about it. I will never have the opportunity to test myself and my limits. Life rumbles along and my porn, my writing, and the occasional tryst with a service provider (SP) or massage attendant (MA) keeps me happy and sane.
Nancy disappeared upstairs and I cleaned up supper and went outside for a smoke standing beside the fence. In a moment, I heard Jennifer's patio door open and saw her come out in a silk bathrobe and saunter over to the fence on her side. The robe hugged her figure and her nipples pressed against the material. My cock twitched and I felt a sexual hunger rise within me. She lit a smoke and smiled at me blowing her smoke past those sensuous lips of hers. My guilt fled and I felt at peace at once. I found myself smiling back and wanting to hug her hard.
"Hey, sexy," she said. I could hear a hunger in her voice. "How's your night?"
"Hey, you," I replied. "Pretty good. Been thinking about you all night."
Jennifer smiled wider. "God, me too. I just finished banging my pussy with my favourite vibrator thinking and wishing it was your cock."
I blinked at her. Even in my erotic novels I never had the women speak like that. I didn't know how to respond.
"What? I masturbate all the time, Bill."
"You do?"
Jennifer took a drag and eyed me. "Yeah. You don't think women masturbate?"
"No, not really. Not like men do."
Jennifer chuckled. "That's probably true. Well, I do. I spend so much time pleasuring men and rarely do they pleasure me. It gets frustrating, you know? Imagine yourself fingering and eating gorgeous women all day and never having your cock touched or sucked or fucked. It would drive you to masturbate. I usually end my days stuffing a vibrator in my pussy for release. It helps."
"I never really thought about it."
"Worse is when the client demands to get you off. All men need that. They need to bring a woman to orgasm. I think it comes from a man's own desires and experiences. Men need to cum. To release. They think women need that as well. They're not wrong but a woman can cum multiple times. It's rare a man can get me to cum in the right way."
That sounded horrible to me and said so.
"It depends on the guy. The right guy can get me off in a heartbeat." She blew out smoke and gazed at me as if waiting for something.
I thought over what she had said. It sounded so very sad to me. For a man sex can just be physical. It is about the release. To ejaculate. But the best sex is with a willing partner. Getting each other off. It's physical, but a large part is emotional. The best sex is with someone you love. It's a validation. Proof. I took a drag and Jennifer snorted.
