Monday morning rolled around way too early. It was fun to have the three of us together, with Jenni in a room of her own. Bobbi said she felt rested, but she looked very tired. I was absolutely tired. The weekend had been intense.
After a quick and simple breakfast, with plenty of coffee, Bobbi left for school, and I left for work. Jenni told us she was going to see if they needed help at her old coffee shop, then work on her resumé. She was determined to get full-time employment but needed at least a part-time job in the interim.
The rest of that first week was spent recovering from the emotional intensity of the prior weekend. Bobbi was busy with school, homework, and working at the airport. My job had gotten busy as well, which always contributed to an increase in my stress level. The nascent FBO I was partnered in was struggling to break even, which didn't help with my stress. The upside was that the work week flew by.
A downside to the frenetic schedule was that evenings with the three of us were sometimes as short as an hour, mostly spent talking on the couch. On the days Bobbi had classes, she worked until 9:00 p.m. at the airport in San Luis. That meant she got home closer to 10:00 p.m. It was a grueling schedule. The "honeymoon" we'd had when she first returned from Japan was over.
Bobbi moved in slowly, and at first, didn't spend every night with me. Over the course of several weeks more and more of her clothes and belongings came over to the house. Nancy insisted she was okay by herself, but Bobbi was having difficulty leaving her mom and her childhood home.
At first I was concerned, and truthfully, a little bit hurt. It was Jenni who assured me that it had nothing to do with me or about what Bobbi thought of our relationship. She advised me to give her some time to make the adjustment. That turned out to be sage advice.
When we went over to Nancy's once a week, we cooked a big meal that the four of us shared. We always had a marvelous time together, leaving at least two meals' worth of leftovers for Nancy. She mockingly complained we were going to make her fat.
With Jenni living at the house, she and I often cooked together, to Bobbi's delight. After dinners during the week, no matter the hour, we usually went skinny-dipping. We then sat together on the couch talking until it was time for bed.
I had fun admiring Jenni's voluptuous figure, which was so different from Bobbi's. I even got to run my hands over Jenni's behind whenever I wanted. Jenni obviously loved it, often putting herself in a position to have me touch her bottom.
Bobbi felt so secure with our love that she didn't look at it as anything more than what it was. Jenni seemed to obsess about how men perceived that part of her figure. Bobbi told me that Jenni said my attention to her bottom made her feel good about her body image.
Our routine settled in after a few weeks, especially once Bobbi was - more or less - living with me full-time. Nancy had finally convinced her daughter that she was fine on her own. The truth, however, was discovered one late evening when Bobbi dropped by at nearly 10:00 p.m. after working late.
There was a strange car in the driveway. It turned out that Nancy had begun to see a man from her church. They had known one another for many years, but both had been married then. He had lost his wife the year before Nancy had lost Matthew. The two of them ended up talking about the grieving process, and the difficult adjustment after such an immense loss.
A deeper friendship developed as they discovered that they had more and more in common with each other. Robert was a few years younger than Matthew, closer in age to Nancy. Bobbi told us she had known him and his late wife from Easter and Christmas services. She said that her mom had been a bit embarrassed by Bobbi's unexpected discovery.
After that incident, Bobbi relaxed a little. She even found it amusing that her mom seemed to feel it necessary to hide her relationship with Robert from her. Once they talked it all through, they both laughed about it. Nancy admitted it was borne of guilt, though she couldn't explain precisely why. Bobbi was just happy that her mom was happy, and I was too. Nancy is a sweetheart.
Jenni ended up back at the coffee shop for a few months. She continued to be diligent about applying for full-time work, however, and succeeded in getting a full-time job at a local bakery. That meant starting work at 3:30 in the morning and having her work day end when everyone else was starting their lunch hour.
The routine she developed was to sleep in the afternoon, right after work, waking up when I got home. She took a shower or a bath then, helped me with dinner, then climbed back into her bed once Bobbi and I went to bed. She told us she could usually fall asleep most nights, even though she knew she'd be getting up at three in the morning to go to work.
I had all but given her my old Ford Ranger, which was beat up but ran like a Swiss watch. I moved my 1965 Ford F100 out to the hangar, so Bobbi had a place in the garage to park her little Honda Fit. It began to feel like the three of us were settled into a healthy and stable relationship. Now that Bobbi was living with me full-time, our love affair began to feel more like marriage. I was happier than I'd ever been.
On the days that Bobbi worked until 9:00 pm at the airport, Jenni and I had lots of time together. I'd noticed that on the days Bobbi worked late, Jenni tended to wear one of my old tees out of her shower or bath, rather than a longer night shirt. Those were the evenings when Jenni's sexuality was difficult to ignore, especially when our flirting got racy.
I remember an evening when she bent over to pull a pan out of the cupboard. I reached out and ran my hand over her pretty bare bottom, which elicited a sharp intake of breath. She placed the pan on the counter but remained bent over, putting both hands on the counter and telling me, "That always feels so good."
I ran my hand lower. She moaned softly when my fingers found her moist and silky gash. I had touched her there before, most memorably on the night we had been together before her trip to Japan with Bobbi.
On this evening, my middle finger easily slipped deep inside of her. My thumb was on her back entrance, pressing lightly.
She told me, "Go inside me Garry. Back there. Please?"
Jenni was profusely lubricated, so it was easy for me to transfer her natural lubrication to my thumb. I slipped my middle finger back up into her vagina and pressed my thumb against her anus.
Jenni tilted her pelvis, "Push it into me... please?"
I was amazed at how easily my thumb popped into her.
Jenni moaned, telling me, "Oh Garry... I've dreamed about this. For so long. I want you so badly. You can do anything you want with me. I know you'll be gentle."
This was the most erotic play she and I had ever shared. I reached around with my other hand, easily finding her stiff little bud hiding in her thick nest of hair. It took only a few minutes for Jenni to have an intense orgasm, gasping and crying out with pleasure.
We held each other afterward for quite some time, moving to the sofa to cuddle together. While it wasn't having sex exactly, it felt incredibly intimate. It was also highly erotic. Jenni really has a charge around anal play. On that evening we opened up additional pleasures between us.
When Bobbi got home, we told her what had happened. Instead of being upset, Bobbi hugged Jenni and reached out for me, taking my hand. The look on her face was pure love, along with a healthy dose of lust.
She told me, "Jenni and I have been trying to figure out what it would take for you to realize she was serious about wanting you to be her first experience. You know I am okay with that. But you're so old-fashioned."
I made the same old argument. "Bobbi I love you too much to mess anything up. I don't want to risk that."
Bobbi shook her head. "You're not risking anything. I'm okay with it. You know that."
"I feel so guilty though." I looked down, "Even what we did earlier feels like cheating."
Bobbi let go of Jenni and pulled me to her, kissing me. She smelled like the airport, and like Bobbi does when she's hot and sweaty. I felt an intense urge to pull her into the bedroom. She felt it too, and with a wave to Jenni, led me by the hand into our room. The look of lust was unmistakable.
I was keyed up and Bobbi was too. Clothes came off immediately and it didn't take long for both of us to reach a climax. We hadn't even bothered to close the door. Bobbi was ripe; she smelled so good. I love her musky, spicy scent. I buried my face into her armpit. She wrapped her hand around my neck. It felt so intimate. We lay in each other's arms for a few minutes.
