I jumped in the shower when I got home, washing the remnants of my night away.
I started a pot of coffee, but when I sat down on the couch to wait for it to brew, my long night caught up with me and soon I was asleep under a warm blanket in my living room.
I don't know how long I had been napping, when a knock at the backdoor rousted me.
It was Jen. She was wearing a pair of black yoga pants that framed her ass spectacularly, and a T-shirt that was at least a size too small for her breasts. It was about as sexual as an outfit good enough to wear the grocery store could look.
"I've been calling you for two hours," she said. "Why didn't you answer? Is Missy here?"
"What? No. I was taking a nap," I replied.
Jen glanced over the still-hot pot of coffee on the counter. I took the hint and offered her a cup.
We took our coffee to the living room and curled up on opposite end of my couch. With Jen's legs tucked up around her, I could see the tight material stretch across her crotch. I gripped my cup of coffee tightly and resisted the urge to dive between her legs.
"Did you fuck her?" she asked.
"What? No 'thanks for coming last night,'" I said, "you are just going to jump into it?"
"You are avoiding the question."
"I was a perfect gentleman," I lied. "I walked her to her car, just like you asked. We had a lovely chat on the way and in the parking garage. That's all."
Jen looked amused. I couldn't tell if it was because she knew I was lying or if she knew something I didn't, or even if she was just relieved I hadn't fucked her husband's secretary.
"So no making out, pushed up her car? You didn't grab her ass or try to touch those big ol' titties?"
"No. And I don't think she wanted me to," I lied, again. "But I'm not great a picking up on subtle hints from women, either. You know that."
"That's too bad," Jen said. "I'm sure you took notice of those tits in that dress last night. How could you not?"
"They are something. I thought it was less a dress and more a marvel of modern engineering."
I noticed Jen had let one of her hands fall into her lap as we talked. It was dangerously close to her crotch, and for a minute I had this vision of her putting her hands inside her yoga pants and touching herself while thinking of Missy. My dick started to stir, covered only by the thin running shorts I'd thrown on after my shower. I tried to sit so my half-hard dick wasn't completely obvious.
"It's OK if you fuck her, you know. I won't be mad."
"What about Jim?" I asked. "I assume he wouldn't like that too much."
"He did tell her that clients were off limits when he hired her," Jen said. "I know that more than a few of his clients have done everything but beg her to go out on a date."
"Do you ever worry that Jim might be interested in her?" I asked.
"I've never worried about him sleeping with someone else," she said. "He gets all the pussy he wants at home. But I can't blame him for looking. Can you imagine having those titties rubbed in your face? I mean, wow."
I was struck by another vision, this time of Missy and Jen rolling around in bed together, just as Missy wanted. My dick didn't stay at half mast any longer, tenting my shorts even as I tried to contain it.
Neither Jen or I said anything for a moment, lost in our own thoughts, until Jen set her empty cup on an end table.
"So, will you eat my pussy, even if it isn't full of my husband's cum? All this talk has got me worked up."
I was struck by the similarity to the question Missy had asked not 12 hours before. I nodded my consent.
"Get on the floor," she said.
I did as I was told, my dick pushing against the material of my shorts.
"I see I'm not the only one turned on," Jen said, as she squatted over my face. "I bet you can't wait to jerk that hard cock, can you?"
"I have other things to attend to first," I said as she started to rub her still clothed crotch across my face.
"You are damn right you do."
I could smell her arousal through her yoga pants and feel the warmth of her sex.
She pushed down onto my face, grinding her pussy on my face. I let her do all the work. If Jen wanted to fuck my face, even with her pants still on, I was happy to let her.
I'm not sure if it was her making her pants damp from the inside, or me wetting them from the outside when I tried to push my tongue through the fabric, but soon she was soaked. Jen abruptly stood, pulling off her shirt to reveal the same black bra that she'd worn that night in the hot tub.
I tried to be subservient to her, but I couldn't wait. I got to my knees, pulled her pants and panties — a tiny black lace g-string — past her knees and pushed her back onto the couch.