Chapter Eighteen
I woke, well, maybe I "came to" is a better way of putting it, aware of an ache between my legs but otherwise alone.
I remembered everything of course and shuddered thinking of how she had made me feel.
The door opened and Roger came in, naked, erect, and smiling broadly.
"Are you okay?" he asked and I giggled softly.
"I'm not sure," I said.
He smiled and crawled into bed with me. He kissed me and whispered, "in the mood?"
I stretched and said, "always."
"I wondered," he said, moving around, his knees parting mine, and guiding himself, "what it would be like to be with a woman I didn't feel like I was stretching too much and I figure this is my chance."
I giggled.
"Now relax," he said, and entered me, slowly, that big cock of his slipping in easily after the way I had been stretched.
I concentrated on not squeezing as I wrapped my legs around him. It felt funny because he was so big, and I didn't feel like he was stretching me.
"Well?" he whispered.
"I think I like it," I said.
He grinned and kissed me and said, "I know I do."
Our coupling lasted one of those measurable fractions of eternity. In the end, the orgasm had me squeezing on him, but that seemed okay too. It was very good sex.
Afterward, as we relaxed, I said, "so where is everybody else?"
He kissed me about a dozen times, quickly, and said, "dunno, don't care," which made me giggle.
I was still basking in the afterglow of what had happened, both what Paula had done to me but also how wonderful it had felt to be, well, for want of a better term, so "loose."
"You saw what she was doing?" I asked.
He smiled and said, "we all saw."
Which, to my surprise, made me blush.