Jenni takes home a woman and her voyeur husband.
" Another stretch and she started to lever herself up under him, pushing him backward, his cock still in her, until she was on all fours.
He was paralyzed as she arched upward, bringing her arms up and over her head and twisting her head and upper body so that she could kiss him. Instinctively his arms came around her in an embrace and they kissed, his hand caressing her as their tongues met in a messy, sweaty, fabulous kiss.
Eventually she pulled from him and climbed forward off his cock with a sigh. A moment later she was stumbling into the bathroom where a clank was followed by a thick stream of pee into the toilet.
What should he do? He stood up, unsure of his next move. Reality was tangible with the fog of his passion spent and he stood there, slightly cold, feeling the air on his back and on his cock as his sweat and their mixed juices cooled on him. He wanted a shower. He needed a shower. He needed to know how this was going to pan out.
Her urine spent he heard her pull a couple of tissues from the roll, wipe herself and then stand with a grunt. He stood transfixed as she walked back into the bathroom, switching off the light as she went and wrapping the room in blackness. His eyes adjusted to the sight of her pulling off her dress, unclipping her bra and climbing into bed.
In a moment she was snoring once more, oblivious, it seemed, to his very presence. Was she so drunk that the whole thing had just passed her by?
He stood a moment longer and then decided he had to just leave. Now he must decide whether to risk leaving the scent of her sex on him in order to get out as soon as possible or try to wash her sex off his cock. Waving the chance at a clean shaft he opted for getting out sooner rather than later and pulled his clothes on quickly but quietly. Stepping into his shoes, a cold sweat clung to him as he considered his disheveled state. Dressed, he stood a moment longer, watching her in the dim light from the city outside her window and then turned and stepped out of her apartment, slowly but firmly pulling the door too behind him with an audible double click of locks going home.
A quick text message to his girlfriend saying he had headed straight home and he walked out onto the street to hail a taxi, avoiding a questioning glance from the doorman.
- - -
It was two days before Rachel heard from Gaby, a garbled message thanking them for getting her home. Jake was nearby when she called Rachel and he tried to seem unperturbed as he waited for the axe to fall. But it never came. Instead he listened to an innocuous conversation between the two girls, picking up mention of an unpleasant hangover quickly cured with a couple of Bloody Maries at their local bar.
And so the incident passed. Days turned into weeks. Somehow Jake avoided seeing Gaby again until a month or so later when Gaby came over to watch a movie that Jake had purchased on DVD and which they had all missed in the cinema. Rachel went to the door when their bell rang and Jake busied himself in the kitchen with beers and some chips-and-dip they had bought for the occasion. He heard the girls come in and composed his expression before turning to greet Gaby.
She smiled and stepped over to him. They hugged much as they always did and as the first meeting since he had fucked her passed uneventfully he allowed himself an inner smile at the thought that he had shot his load deep in the girl hugging him. That he had proverbially 'had' her, fucked her, left his seed inside her. When their brief hug ended his smile was broad and genuine. He was feeling very glib about the whole thing.
They settled in to watching the movie. Previews came and went, the menu screen appeared and Rachel excused herself saying she was going to pee quickly before the flick started.
A moment after she ran from the room Gaby said, almost in an aside, "Oh, Jake, I meant to thank you for fucking me the other night.