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The issue that dogged Jessica’s mind, as the weeks passed and she and Robert continued to learn every inch of their bodies and what exactly they liked done to those bodies, was the obvious one. How am I going to explain what goes on at my house?
To her immense relief, Grant would not be a problem. He had responded neutrally, perhaps even with modest enthusiasm, to Jessica’s bedding down with her new man, even saying a bit condescendingly, “You need a guy of your own age to tend to you.” Meanwhile, although she now spent three or four nights a week at Robert’s apartment, she had continued to make her own body available to Grant whenever he wished—which was just as often as before. Robert did come by the house every so often for dinner or just to spend time with the various occupants, and it was becoming obvious that his fondness for the three young women—and, to be fair, for Grant also—was more than robust; and the women’s fondness for him was also transparent. But that didn’t make it any easier for Jessica to know how to make Robert believe that the interlocking copulation that occurred under her roof was in any way normal or acceptable.
But she realized that the more she delayed, the more Robert might take offense: once he did learn the truth, he might feel as if his entire relationship with Jessica had proceeded under false pretenses, or at the very least that she didn’t trust him with the intimate details of her life, however much she allowed him repeated and extremely intimate access to her body. But my God, she thought to herself, how on earth do I explain that my own son . . .?
So, about two months after they had first had sex, she decided to bite the bullet and go for broke. What was the worst that could happen? Well, she reflected pensively, Robert could be so disgusted and appalled that he would just walk away from me. That prospect filled her with more dismay than she could have imagined—all apart from how supremely awkward it would be to continue teaching at the same school under those circumstances.
But one thing reassured her—indeed, it was her emotional bulwark that she, perhaps naively, felt might help her through any and all difficulties.
It had happened about a month into their relationship, after a particularly strenuous bout that had left both of them gasping for breath and covered with sweat. She couldn’t remember a time—even with Grant—when she had been so wild and unrestrained in lovemaking, and Robert also seemed filled with a nearly insane passion for her body and her soul that left her amazed and almost frightened. Had she ever inspired a man to such intensity of emotion? Certainly not her unenthusiastic husband, even during the early years of their marriage.
And what Robert had said, once he had caught his breath and while holding her firmly pressed to his chest, was that simple sentence that every woman wants to hear:
“I love you, Jessica.”
She had sensed his yearning to say those words for some time, but his actual utterance of them choked her up so much that she feared Robert would misunderstand her silence. In fact, his face took on such a worried, hurt expression that she immediately threw her arms around his neck, pasted a wet kiss on his mouth, and all but shouted in his ear:
“Oh, God, Robert, I love you too! I love you with all my heart!”
The sense of relief that overwhelmed him seemed close to reducing him to tears. But he restrained himself, merely stroking Jessica’s back and smiling brokenly. For a while she thought that he would actually say “Thank you” or something equally ridiculous.
Thereafter, at every session, they expressed their love over and over again—as if their actions didn’t already emphasize that sentiment many times over. She made her entire body available to him, and he took full advantage. They became particularly fond of long, luxurious sessions of sixty-nine, during which Jessica would come multiple times before finally eliciting an explosive orgasm out of Robert, the thick, viscous seed sliding down her throat like an oyster. To Jessica, it was like the rarest ambrosia bestowed upon her by the gods.
It was after one such session that, close to exhaustion, the two of them were cuddling absently, Jessica drawing imaginary circles on Robert’s chest with her forefinger. Inwardly taking a deep breath, she looked up with unwonted melancholy and said:
“Robert, you do love me, don’t you?”
He snapped out of his reverie. “Of course,” he said, somewhat troubled. “How could you possibly doubt it?”
“I don’t,” she said, but her tone suggested to Robert that she did just that.
“Jessica,” he began, “what are you—?”
“You’ll love me no matter what, won’t you?” she interrupted.
“Yes,” he said emphatically, and with a bit of impatience. “What do you have to say? That you’re an axe-murderer, or something?”
He reflected suddenly that he really didn’t know Jessica’s life story beyond the sporadic and fragmentary anecdotes she had related over the past few months.
“No, nothing çankaya escort like that,” she said. “It—it’s about Grant.”
“What about him?” Robert said sharply. Is he the axe-murderer? I have to say there’s something a little strange about him.
“Well, you see,” she temporized, “he and Angela—well, I mean, they’re really close, and they love each other so much . . .”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is,” she said. “But, um, he also . . . loves Sara.”
Robert said nothing for some moments. “She’s quite a wonderful creature also.”
“Yes, she is. And he also loves Marcia—”
“I thought he might.”
“—and me.”
She winced as if expecting a blow.
There was a deep silence, and Jessica fully expected Robert to explode in rage. She was certain that Robert had fully understood the implications of what she had just said—that Grant’s “loving” her didn’t refer merely to the conventional love of a son for his mother. And given that Robert’s own wife had betrayed him by committing adultery, she was fully prepared to be ordered from his apartment and asked never to darken his door again.
But all Robert said was, “He’s quite a remarkable young man.”
It had been said neutrally, and Robert had a strikingly bland expression on his face; but even that level of apparent understanding—and lack of condemnation—compelled Jessica to burst into tears and provide far more of an explanation than Robert perhaps wanted:
“Oh, God, Robert, please don’t think badly of him—or me! I’d gone so long without a man—and then one night Grant just came up to my room . . . I think he heard me, um, you know . . . He’s just so full of animal passion, and no one woman could satisfy him . . . he looked so much like my husband when I first knew and loved him—better, in fact, a kind of idealized version of what I wanted my husband to be . . . it felt so good to have him in me . . . I know it’s awful and wrong, but it’s really just another way for him to express his love for me . . . the other girls don’t mind . . . it all works for us. So please don’t hate us!”
Robert had to smile at that. “Have I said anything of the kind?”
“No,” Jessica said, sniffling and wiping her face clumsily with the bedsheet. “But most people would—”
“I’m not most people,” he said. “I make up my own mind on things.”
“So—so you’re okay with it?” she said, hoping against hope.
“Well, I wouldn’t go quite that far. I have to figure this out, and figure out what I feel about it. It’s a pretty unusual situation, isn’t it?”
“I’ll say!”
“The question becomes,” Robert said in a kind of lecturing tone, “where exactly I fit in.”
“Why should anything have to change?” she said.
“Oh, Jessica,” he said, again with a hint of impatience (my dear, you’re not quite that silly, are you?), “of course things have to change.”
“You could come live with us!” she cried desperately.
That brought Robert up short, and he made no reply.
“I mean, you don’t want to be in this tiny apartment too much longer, do you?” Fearful that she had insulted him, she went on quickly, “There’s plenty of room in our house! And I’m sure you can tell that all the girls have really taken to you.”
She worried that there was a double entendre in that last statement (which, indeed, there was), but she hoped Robert would take no notice of that.
“Well, it really comes down to what Grant feels, doesn’t it?” he said, with an almost irritatingly level, rational tone. “How’s he going to feel about—?” He couldn’t finish the thought.
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Jessica said, a little more sanguine than she actually felt. “He’ll be fine with it.”
And, in fact, he was.
The couple announced their plan—expressed purely as a suggestion that they hoped every other occupant of the household would sign off on—to the others a few days later as Robert came over for a particularly sumptuous dinner that Jessica orchestrated with the help of Angela, Sara, and Marcia. She had deliberately withheld blurting out the matter ahead of time to the girls, and they all looked at her with both astonishment and delight when the offer (“What would you think if Robert came here to live?”) was sprung upon them.
“Omigod!” Marcia squealed. “That would be fabulous!”
“It certainly would,” Angela said in a clearly heartfelt voice.
“I think so too,” Sara said.
There was a bit of a silence, and everyone in the room realized that Grant had yet to chime in. He was lounging at the head of the table, slouching back in his chair and finishing the remnants of his coffee and dessert. Without looking at Robert—or anyone in particular—he said in a deceptively casual tone:
“Yeah, sure, that would be great.”
Then he gave a look at Robert that said something like: Sure would be nice to have another cock around here. I’m feeling a bit outnumbered.
And so it was decided.
It took some weeks for Robert to pack his things, cebeci escort give notice to his landlord, and make the move into the Norton house. Jessica insisted—and Grant made no objection—that Robert move as many of his clothes into her bedroom as possible, and no one failed to notice the symbolism of the act. Robert was not one to collect knick-knacks or mementos, although he did have a fair number of books that had to be crammed in wherever there was space.
When the move was completed, on a Friday night, everyone felt tired but satisfied. They had all pitched in to make Robert feel at home, but after dinner—and the obligatory movie, which Robert watched while wrapping a patriarchal arm around Jessica, as Grant did the same to Angela—a rather more delicate matter had to be broached.
“Well,” Jessica said, coloring a little, “I think we have to give some thought to . . .” She trailed off.
“To what?” Robert said, genuinely confused.
No one said anything until Grant came out blandly with, “Sleeping arrangements.”
Robert frowned. “Why is that an issue?”
He and Jessica had spent several nights at his apartment during the final stages of the move, and Jessica herself felt the need to explain the situation further.
“Well, you know,” she said tentatively, “I’ve been with you a lot lately. I just wondered if—if you might want . . .”
“Someone else,” Grant said.
Robert made a sudden intake of breath. “Oh, I couldn’t do that.”
“Sure you could,” Grant said, with a certain cynicism.
Indeed, as he saw the crestfallen expressions of the three young women sitting around the living room, he realized his naïveté in thinking that this issue could be avoided.
Robert felt his face getting hot. “Well, I mean, this is a bit unusual . . .”
“Yeah, well,” Grant said, “we’re used to it.”
“Grant,” Jessica chided, “don’t pressure him.”
Robert looked at his three potential bedmates. “You really would like—?”
“Yes!” Marcia all but shouted.
“Uh-huh,” Angela said demurely.
Sara just nodded.
Robert was definitely blushing now. “Well, my heavens, I really don’t know how to choose. I mean, I don’t want to offend anyone.”
“You won’t,” Jessica said. “For whoever doesn’t get chosen, there’s always another night.”
That thought made Robert swallow hard. He felt sweat spring up on his brow. Looking at each of the beautiful young women in his midst, he wondered if he had drifted into some kind of dream-world.
“Um,” he blundered, “let’s see . . . how about—Marcia?”
“Me?” she squeaked in disbelief.
“Oh, you lucky girl!” Sara said.
“Omigod,” Marcia said, her eyes filling with tears. Glancing shyly at Robert, she said, “You—you make me feel so special.”
“You are special,” Robert said gallantly.
She had to look away: she seemed on the point of bursting into tears. Then, shaking her head as if to dispel some cobwebs, she said boldly, “Can we go now?”
Robert wasn’t quite prepared for that, but he said, “Well, yes, sure.”
With that, Marcia got up from the easy chair where she had been sitting and, walking right up to Robert, held out her hand.
“Come on, then,” she all but ordered.
He let himself be led away, to the smiles—and perhaps the smirks—of the others. He could just barely hear Sara whisper in Angela’s ear, “I don’t think he knows what he’s in for.”
It was understood that Robert and Marcia would occupy the master bedroom. Since it was Grant’s night to be with Sara, they would take the main guest room while Jessica and Angela would cuddle up in another guest room.
As Marcia led Robert into the room, she looked him up and down, marveling at his broad shoulders and barrel chest. She was actually salivating, and she licked her lips before saying brightly, “Do you want to undress me?”
Robert did. He came up to her, still a little tentatively; but as he doffed off one piece of clothing after the other—skirt, blouse, stockings, bra, panties—he himself marveled at the exquisite female beauty revealed by the removal of each garment. When she was naked, he had trouble restraining himself from hugging her close and stroking her all over with his hands. But she made it clear that, before that was to happen, she had to undress him. And she did so with brisk efficiency.
When his own superbly masculine nudity was revealed, Marcia came close to fainting. His member was already so erect that it was quivering, and she wasted no time in falling to her knees and placing it in her mouth. Robert gasped at the sensation, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of Jessica’s head as it bobbed back and forth as his cock first disappeared, and then re-emerged, into and out of her mouth. He was afraid that he might actually shoot his load into her mouth, but she seemed to sense that she was working him a little too hard, so she let up a bit.
In a few minutes he pulled her up by her shoulders and kissed her long and deeply çukurambar escort on the mouth, bending down because of the difference in their height. Indeed, he came close to lifting the girl off the floor while he wrapped his arms around her, and she was thrilled to feel his stiff member rubbing up against her belly and all but asking for entry into her body.
But before that, Robert placed her gently on the bed and plunged his face into her muff, enjoying how her hair tickled his face and how her fragrant wetness coated his lips, tongue, and cheeks. He took her lovely curved bottom in his hands and squeezed while continuing to lick and nuzzle her. She was all but mashing her sex into his face while holding his head in place, and as her orgasm slowly washed over her she let out a little scream and tapped her heels on his back as she relished every moment of the experience.
She was all but comatose when Robert mounted her. Scarcely having the energy to raise her legs and bend her knees to accommodate him, she remained largely passive as he entered her to the full, eliciting a weak gasp from her. Her arms lay flat on the bed as he held her close and pounded her relentlessly, kissing her all over her face, neck, and throat. He possessed her utterly, and she gloried in it. When his seed began to fill her, she felt a unity with this big, burly, older man such as she had rarely felt even with Grant, and she wouldn’t let him out of her until, several minutes later, his cock finally slipped wetly out of its own accord.
Both of them knew this was only a kind of preliminary, and as soon as Robert had recovered he requested rear entry, which she readily granted. He preferred doggie style, and she was happy to comply, feeling like a cat in heat being satisfied by a randy tom. She had taken Grant in this orifice enough that she felt no pain at his insertion, and she urged him to pummel her as hard as he wished. Somehow he still managed to stimulate her sex with his hand while watching himself thrust in and out of her, and by luck or skill he contrived to draw out powerful climaxes out of both her and himself at nearly the same time.
Later she rode him, delighting in how he gazed reverentially at her face and breasts as she writhed on his member. For minutes on end they looked each other right in the face, establishing an inextricable bond that his overwhelming emission only further cemented. A leisurely session of sixty-nine ended the festivities. They had been at it for more than three hours.
The next morning, Robert looked a bit the worse for wear, although Marcia seemed unusually sprightly and cheerful. He had some difficulty looking Jessica in the face, and she took pity on him. Poor man! He hasn’t gotten used to how we do things here, and I suspect he feels he’s been untrue to me. Nothing could be further from the truth! She made sure to greet him with a big hug and kiss, although she refrained from augmenting his embarrassment by making any pointed inquiries about how it had gone last night with Marcia.
The next night Robert chose Sara—not only because she was supremely beautiful and desirable, but out of a residual sense of respect for Grant, whose closeness to Angela made Robert wonder how Grant would feel about her bedding down with him. In spite of his wild night with Marcia, he performed ably, if a bit less intensely, and he sensed in Sara both a strength and a delicacy that was rare among women, even Jessica. And the next night he did indeed welcome Angela into his bed, and somehow she managed to coax a few more orgasms out of him, well beyond his own expectations.
When Jessica slipped into bed with him the next night, she made it clear that further gymnastics were not on the agenda, and he pointedly expressed relief at that.
“So,” she said with a genial smile, “how do you like these young ladies?”
“They’re all incredible,” he said enthusiastically. “I—I think I’m a little in love with them already.”
“You’d better be if you know what’s good for you!” she said in a mock scold. “They probably all love you already.”
“Oh, I doubt that!”
“You wanna bet? I’m pretty sure they do.”
“And you have no problem with that?”
“Not in the slightest. As long as you don’t ever stop loving me.”
“I don’t think that would be humanly possible.”
“Good answer, guy,” she said. Then: “I know you’re a bit—tired, but maybe you could use your fingers to, um, make me happy?”
“I believe I can manage that.”
“Another good answer,” she said as his hand slipped down between her legs.
*
Julia was now head of the human resources division of a large insurance company whose headquarters were in downtown Seattle. She had worked at a roughly similar position when she had lived in Issaquah; her move to Seattle had made her a sought-after commodity among several firms, and she found that she had chosen her new employer well. She was good with people, and she knew it. (I may not be the greatest wife in the world, but I know how to do my job.)
She gloried in the large private office she had, and she also liked the young but efficient secretary who worked right outside her office. This young woman, Andrea Thomas, took pains not to disturb Julia except when absolutely necessary, so it was something of a puzzle when Andrea spoke to Jessica on the intercom in a curiously hesitant voice.
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