This is a belated Part 2 for my latest novel. It's a little light on the sex, due to story developments, but things will heat up in later instalments.
The radio alarm clock on top of her bedside cabinet bursting into a loud, fast rock song woke Inga Jennings from a deep sleep and a wonderful dream involving Hugh Jackman that was only just starting to get interesting. She groaned croakily and, pulling the duvet over her head, reached out blindly to thump the off switch and stop the cacophony. Her arm hung loose over the side of the bed, and she screwed her eyes shut tight in an attempt to return to dreamland.
Why the hell did they have to leave so early on a Saturday? Admittedly, Paul wasn't due to pick her up from her apartment until eleven, and she had set her alarm for ten, but Inga enjoyed having her Saturday lie in. She was used to partying all night the Friday and snoozing away until sometimes two in the afternoon the next day. She hadn't done much partying recently, but that didn't mean she couldn't stick to some kind of routine, surely?
It was no good. The bright morning sunshine, through the bedroom window whose curtains she never pulled, was now resting heavily on top of her duvet and it was getting too stuffy under there.
Grudgingly, blinking in the bright light, Inga threw the covers off her naked body and wearily sat up, rubbing her eyes and stretching her long arms. She always slept naked; she had done since a teenager. In fact she had very little problems with nudity, often walking around her apartment naked in the morning. She enjoyed the feel of the air against her tanned skin, the feel of it hitting the more intimate parts of her body, the places it would never go when she was dressed.
Inga often put this openness down to her mother's influence. Ever since she could remember her family home – at first in her native Sweden before they moved to America for her father's work when Inga was six – had been a very free environment when it came to sex and sexuality. Her parents had many lovers even now, and it had never been unusual for Inga to see them walking around in next to nothing, holding each other intimately.
It had been Inga's mother who had given her some of the best advice regarding this topic. "If you like it, keep doing it," she had always said. "If you don't like it, stop doing it. If you love it, never let it go."
Since the loss of her virginity to now Inga had lived her life by this simple rule, and it had never failed her. Though she was still only twenty-nine years old she felt she truly knew everything there was to know about pleasure; at least she felt she knew a lot more than a lot of women her age. She was positive that she knew more about it then Liz anyway. It was difficult to tell because Liz didn't like to talk about this kind of topic when they were together. She would listen to what Inga had to say, no denying she was a good listener, but she felt that for her, personally, this sort of conversation should remain in the bedroom between her and Husband Dearest.
Inga jumped off the bed onto the red carpeted floor, her small breasts shaking slightly as she did so. Glancing briefly at the time on her radio alarm clock and seeing that she had forty minutes before Paul was due to arrive, she knew that, having packed everything in one gloriously dull sitting last night, all she needed was to eat some breakfast and have a nice long shower. After all, one of the main disadvantages of camping was the distinct lack of hot running water.
Inga wandered over to her small en-suite bathroom with her even smaller shower and twisted the taps to get the right temperature. Maybe she was feeling a little more reluctant to wake up than usual because she knew this would be the last weekend of fun she and Paul would have. She wasn't looking forward to breaking up with him – she never enjoyed breaking up with anybody. But she was becoming restless, an old familiar feeling. She needed a change before things got too serious. They had had their fun, almost six months of it; now it was time for someone else to have a go with both of them.
Six months. This had probably been the longest relationship Inga had ever had. Compared to the countless number of lovers she had encountered it could definitely class as a long term relationship.
All in all she had had three of these: Paul was one. Then there was Brad. Typical jock name for a typical jock. Not much of a talker, but he had known how to use his cock, so he had been pleasant company nevertheless, and a good relief from revision blues during her final years of college. He had broken it off with her because apparently he had fallen in love with his cousin and was going to marry her. Inga had taken this all in, then wished him well and slammed the door in his face. She didn't cry – she was not a crier – but she did sulk for the rest of the afternoon on account of never been able to put that beautiful cock of his back in any of her orifices.
And of course there had been Jess. Ah, Jess. She hadn't been Inga's first female lover but she'd been good enough to keep around for a while. She and Inga had had a strong, often tempestuous relationship that had involved a mixture of arguments, tantrums and some of the most amazing make-up sex Inga had ever had in her life. It had got a little too intense for Inga's liking, and she had broken it off after three months. Jess had promptly burst into tears and run straight to the closest lesbian bar to pick up the first pretty thing she saw and fuck her frustration out.
Maybe it was time to wander down the Sapphic route again, Inga thought now, as she stood under the piping hot water and felt it tumble down her short brown hair, down her beautiful body, her nipples tingling as the drops played with them.
She rubbed the water into her breasts, encouraging the hardness more and more. She'd wanted to wait until later on in the day, wait until Paul was with her, but she had woken up too horny for that, and the thought of Brad's cock combined with Jess' tongue along with Paul's enthusiasm was getting her wetter by the second.
Dipping her head back so that the water fell onto her face, Inga slowly slid her hands down the side of her hips and around her tight buttocks. Then playfully, teasingly, three fingers from her right hand carried on underneath and through her legs, stroking the lips of her sex and sending a slight shudder through the rest of her body.
Already she was dripping down there, and it was easy to slide all three fingers slowly in. They weren't a good enough substitute for Brad's cock, or Paul's for that matter, but they were sure more than a match for Jess' fingers.
Inga stroked her breasts, pinched and teased her nipples as she slowly began to slide the fingers in and out of her, her thumb toying with the swollen hood of her clit. Already her breath was quickening, already the shuddering was more intense, already the stuttered groans and pleasurable giggles were escaping from her lips.
In her mind she could feel Paul's warm breath on the back of her neck, feel his masterful, strong arms on hers, feel his hard, gorgeous cock pressed up against her begging sex. Oh she was going to have so much fun with him. If this was going to be their last time together, then they were going to have so...much...fun...
As Inga came she spat out high pitched yelps, grabbed onto the exploring hand to try to push it in deeper still to get an extra volt of pleasure run up her spine. Her knees buckled and she collapsed on the glass screen of the shower, slowly sliding down it until she was sitting in a pool of warm water, eyes closed in ecstasy, heart pounding, her breath slowing, her fingers still entangled between the warm, sticky, grateful lips of what was her own dear little pussy.
She had lost track of time, and when she at last removed her wrinkly fingers from her, turned off the shower and stood unsteadily up, she began to panic slightly. Paul was usually incredibly punctual. How much time did she have before he arrived? Shit, fifteen minutes.
Wrapping a blue towel around her satisfied body, Inga ran out of her bedroom and down the corridor into her kitchen, where she placed two pieces of bread in the toaster and made herself a big steaming mug of black coffee. Post-orgasm drowsiness was beginning to set in, and now was not the time. She chugged the coffee down, removed the two slightly burnt pieces of toast and shoved both into her mouth, running back into her bedroom. There was no way Paul was going to see her in this state. He would just have to wait.
*****
In fact, due to rather heavy traffic that morning, Paul was actually running late when he pulled up on the kerb by Inga's apartment block in his smart looking SUV. The vehicle admittedly seemed a little out of place in Sechs City, but was the ideal mode of transport when out on the roads between Pleasant Peaks and his home. The boot was packed with all the camping equipment he and Inga were going to need for this weekend, as well as a bag of loose clothes for him in anticipation of the scorching hot weather that had been predicted, and a folder of work in case he got the opportunity to do any studying.
He hoped that he would not have to even think about opening the latter, because he wanted to use this weekend as an opportunity to escape from his course and the looming exam dates. He had been looking forward to this weekend since it had first been suggested, and couldn't wait to spend some quality time with his best friend Artie and also, more importantly, Inga.
More and more now he felt a yearning desire to spend as much time as possible with the beautiful brunette. He hated the fact that his studies had recently got more in the way of their time together then he would have liked.
Of course he knew what was going on; falling in love wasn't a new experience for him. He was just a little taken aback by the realisation of it suddenly. He had lived a fun lifestyle for almost eight years, had kept to his word, to the promise he had made himself one September evening in a lonely bar, never to do anything so stupid as to fall in love again. For almost eight years he had enjoyed a variety of women in his life, more one night stands then casual fuck buddies.
But from the moment he and Inga had met at Artie and Liz's engagement party, he had been fascinated by her. She seemed to have the same love for life and fun that he had, and definitely enjoyed sex as much as he did. At that time she had been arm and arm with a rather handsome looking stud who she constantly referred to as 'Big Man'. It hadn't bothered Paul that much; he hooked up with an attractive waitress and spent the rest of the night making sure she had an amazing time.
For a while he and Inga had spent every opportunity they saw each other to flirt harmlessly, before one night six months ago when they had both seemingly decided at the same time to take their relationship to the next level. They'd been very clear with each other at the beginning that they should never stay completely exclusive. If ever an opportunity came along for them to have some fun when they weren't together, they were not to let that moment fly by. Oddly enough, since getting together with Inga, Paul had never really had any other chances come across his way. He didn't know if Inga had, and he didn't want to know; it was her life after all.
And now he was falling in love with her and he had no idea if she felt the same way. He thought it might be reciprocated, but he didn't want to get his hopes up. Inga was a rarity over most other women he had met. She never wanted to stop living her life her way. It was one of the aspects of her that Paul so admired. But Paul was feeling a general weariness with the way he lived his own. It was hard to believe he was thinking this, but maybe the time had come to start settling down.
The front door of the building opened and Paul felt himself grinning stupidly as Inga, dressed in a pair of tight blue denim shorts and white crop top, with a large pair of sunglasses over her eyes, and an average sized backpack across one shoulder, stepped out into the bright sunlight. She waved at him as she closed the door, skipping down the three concrete steps onto the pavement and, opening one of the rear doors of the SUV, threw her backpack onto the backseat.
Carefully she crossed round the back of the vehicle and hopped up into the front passenger seat, the door opened by Paul as a gentlemanly gesture.
"Morning, sweetie," she sang, kissing him full on the lips before reaching for her seatbelt. "All set?"
"Good morning," Paul replied. "I certainly am. You sure you are? That bag doesn't look like there's much in it."
"Don't worry, I packed all the essentials. It took me ages to figure out what clothes to bring, you know, it's not like I can pack my really nice stuff, is it? We could get really dirty somewhere, and I don't want my nice new jeans to get ripped on some rocks or something, do I?"
Paul smiled. "No, honey," he said as he started the SUV's engine.
"I've got enough change of clothes and underwear for the whole four days. Though I may be mistaken about the underwear..."
"You may?"
"Yeah. I think I might have to go commando one day, if that's all right?"
The brilliant thing about Inga, thought Paul as they pulled out back onto the street, was that from the way she was talking you would think she was talking about something mundane like the gas bill or the weather. She was so open, so honest about these kinds of things. It made her unique, and it made him love her just a little bit more.
