This story is a re-post of one of my original stories in the Quartet series. I have re-edited it to improve punctuation, grammar and, I hope, readability.
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Jenny awoke at her usual hour of seven that Sunday morning. As she pulled off the covers and swung her leg over this side of the bed, she immediately became aware of soreness in her vaginal cavity. It wasn't acute, but it was noticeable. Her mind went back to the evening before, and her trepidation about Tom's girth. Obviously, it had stretched her in a place she hadn't recently been stretched.
She hadn't had a lover in over a year, and no man in her past would compare to the thickness of Tom's swollen member. Thankfully, he wasn't any longer than normal, but he was more than ample for her complete satisfaction. She lay back on the bed with her legs dangling over the side and tried to remember the feeling of his gentle and yet powerful lovemaking. It was a new experience and one she hoped to repeat again and again.
She was grateful she had had little to drink that afternoon and evening. She was driving for one thing, and also, it wasn't her nature. But she remembered with some shame at her verbal outburst when she was exhorting Tom to "fuck" her. She knew the words, but never used them, even in the most private of circumstances. Something inside her had caused her to lose all her inhibitions, and a primitive Jenny McGuire took over.
Nikki wandered into the kitchen from the family room where she had been watching TV.
"Did you have your juice and cereal?" Jenny asked.
"Yup."
"We're having a guest for brunch today." Jenny said casually.
"Who's coming? Do I know them?" Nikki asked, looking questioningly at her mother.
"Mr. Blanton, a friend. I met him at the party yesterday."
"Cool!" Nikki said brightly.
"He builds houses and fixes up old houses," Jenny added.
"Is he going to fix our house?"
"No, he's just coming for brunch. He wanted to meet you after I told him all about you,"
"Cool," Nikki repeated. "Can I play with Marty 'til he gets here?"
"OK, but don't get dirty. Have fun," she called after the quickly moving child as she sped out the back door.
Jenny felt the knot of anxiety in her stomach as she looked up at the clock. Her thoughts were racing.
"Another hour before he's here. What should I wear? Should I kiss him when he arrives? What would Nikki think? When can I get him in my bed again? God, you've got it bad, girl. Too long without sex, that's the problem. You've forgotten what it's like. That man can make me come better than anyone has ... ever! I could get addicted to that.
"I've got to watch my language. I was out of control last night. I hope that didn't put him off. It didn't seem to. By any standards though, that was sex to end all sex. The blow job was a last minute desperate decision to keep him longer. Brilliant! We did it all, didn't we? Next time I'll help him when he goes down on me. Oh God, I'm obsessed. Better phone Ingrid and face the music."
Tom paced around his house trying to make the clock move faster. He had slept in past eight, unusual for him. He got up, used the bathroom, and wandered into the kitchen to turn the coffee maker on, only to realize he hadn't set it up the night before.
"No surprise," he thought as he prepared the machine.
"What a night that was. An entire sex life compressed into a couple of hours. That was one wild woman when she got between the sheets. Completely out of character from what he expected. When she was having an orgasm, she let you know it! None of this quiet stuff that makes you wonder if they did or didn't. He knew for sure when she was coming.
"And that blow job was completely unexpected. I didn't think she'd be the type. Just goes to show the old adage that the quiet ones can hide real surprises. I can't wait for the rematch. I'd better start thinking about what I can contribute. She liked the oral sex, but she didn't let me finish. She was too horny. Next time for sure. She made sure I knew there would be a next time, too."
He glanced at the clock for the twentieth time. It was still only nine-oh-five. He wondered if it was too early to call Ingrid and Steve to thank them for the party and apologize for leaving without saying goodnight. Better get my story straight so I don't embarrass myself. He picked up the phone and punched in the old familiar numbers.
"Ingrid? Good Morning, it's Tom. I hope I haven't called too early?"
"Hi Tom! I hope you had a good time yesterday?"
"Wonderful. I just wanted to apologize for leaving without saying goodnight and without thanking you for inviting us ... I mean me," he stammered.
"Jenny called a few minutes ago. I gather you two hit it off well?"
"Ah ... yes, we did. Ah ... yes, very well."
"Wonderful. Jenny's a great gal. I thought you two would fit well together," Ingrid implied with the emphasis on 'fit'.
"Sorry we missed you when we left."
"Oh don't worry, we weren't upset, just otherwise occupied," she laughed. "I hear you're going over to Jenny's for brunch. Sounds like fun."
"Yes, I'm looking forward to meeting Nikki."
"I thought it was traditional to meet the parents first?" she needled.
"Very funny! We're just good friends, but she is a lovely lady. I'm glad I got a chance to get to know her."
"Just how much did you get to know?" was the cheeky reply.
"I decline to answer any more questions. I get the distinct impression you had something to do with our being there as singles," Tom suggested.
"Why Tom, whatever gave you that idea?"
"I'm getting to know you, Ingrid. When I'm around you, I can hear the gears turning," he laughed.
"Thanks for the compliment, Tom. I hope things work out for you two. I think you'd be great for each other," she said seriously.
"When's the wedding?" he shot back sarcastically.
"You laugh now, but we'll see. I don't usually get these things wrong," she boasted.
"OK, I surrender. Thank Steve for me, will you. We ... we had a great time," he said seriously.
"I'm glad. Have fun at Jenny's, and I'll tell Steve you called."
"Thanks again, bye Ingrid."
Tom hung up the phone. Lots of innuendo in that conversation, he thought. She thinks she's playing matchmaker. Maybe she is. At this stage, I should be grateful. He glanced at the clock again and saw it was now nine-thirty.
"I could be a bit early," he said aloud in the empty kitchen. He walked back to the bedroom and looked once again in the mirror. Clean, pressed cotton sport shirt, clean khaki slacks and leather sandals. 'You clean up OK, Tom,' he thought to himself.
He grabbed his wallet and car keys off the dresser, stuffed a few bills and loose change in his pocket and headed for the door. He got within ten feet when the phone rang.
"Damn!" he stopped, turning to the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hi Tom. How are you?"
