Wendy Ch. 09

After her first time in a filthy apartment, Wendy’s appreciation of sex had never reached its full potential. But when Jeff started showing an interest in her, she welcomed the attention. To be chosen over Nancy overwhelmed her. Soon, she succumbed to Jeff’s advances and was pleasantly surprised by his ability to make sex fun.

They did it their rooms after study group and in motels on weekends. Wendy showered him with gifts and Jeff showered her with attention. Nancy became the fifth wheel, the odd woman out. Wendy felt sorry for her and suggested to Jeff that they include her in their activities.

“I didn’t mean our sexual activities,” she laughed, rubbing my thigh.

“What happened?”

“He claimed she seduced him but I always thought he was just trying to include her in our activities, without me of course,” Wendy nibbled on my neck.

“So, it was over?” I asked. She nodded, scrupulously.

“You didn’t mind?”

“Not really, he had run out of past experiences anyway,” she answered. Her hand had moved to my thigh, getting close to my manhood.

Suddenly I was getting it. Wendy had a sexual hangup, she needed a script to follow, something that had happened to her partner. I wondered if there was a name for it.

“So, Jeff described his sexual experiences and you re-enacted them with him?”

But Wendy wouldn’t answer me, preoccupied with my cock.

“Enough talking, what was that about doggy style?” she said, playfully pushing me to the floor and letting her tits dangle in my face.

We kissed and fondled one another to arousal. We made short work of spreading the blanket and donning a rubber. One final check, she gripped my cock and I ran a finger up and down her slit. We were ready.

Wendy offered her abundant butt freely, positioning herself in front of me, legs slightly spread. It may have been the view, or the change in Wendy, not submissive, that made me harder. After an initial, ‘oh, I’m sore there, that’s it, there, do it there, that’s it, give it to me, oh yes, yes,’ we were joined. I pushed her shoulders down and adjusted for height, took her by the hips and begin pounding with total abandon. Each thrust moved her forward but Wendy held fast with, her elbows on the floor and her tits in her hands. “Oh, yesssss..., oh, yessss,” she kept saying.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yessss..”

“Is this what you want?”

“Yessss..”

“Tell me!”

“This is what I want!” she screamed.

I slowed down when I felt the storm in my balls, slow enough to let Wendy meet me with each thrust. She had stopped screaming. We were both tiring. I stopped, not for a rest but to reach around and find her clit.

“Cotton?” her voice was soft and far away.

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve been coming over and over, don’t worry about me.”

I counted, one, two, three, four, five, six long hard plunges and I erupted. We collapsed together, both spent.

We spoke on the ‘phone a few times but nothing had been mentioned about the contract that she was suppose to be drawing up. I had stopped mentioning it. My plan to visit the growers the day after thanksgiving with the contract in hand had been foiled. I would go without it. My telephone rang early on Thanksgiving morning.

“Shall I pick you up?” Wendy began the telephone conversation.

“What?” ‘What was she talking about,’ I thought. It was thanksgiving morning and I was getting ready to go to Marcie’s for dinner. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re going to Marcie’s, I may as well pick you up, its on the way, right?”

“I didn’t know you were going to be there,” I said, tentatively wondering if Wendy had invited herself. “Do you even know her?”

“She called and invited me, 2 o’clock, right?”

“But...,” I was speechless, “she doesn’t even know you, does she?” Marcie had said nothing to me about inviting Wendy. Of course she knew of Wendy. She knew that Wendy was suppose to furnish a contract for me to take to the grower the following day and she had heard me complain that it had not materialized.

“Well, she did and I’m going. I turned down two other invitations to accept this one. I would think you would be happy that I am going with you, it is thanksgiving, you know?”

I didn’t comment that I was glad that she was coming. I was having trouble believing that Marcie would invite her without consulting me.

Wendy seemed to comprehend my quandary and put in, “She must know we’re fucking and decided to invite me out of consideration.”

“She doesn’t know! I certainly didn’t tell her,” I declared.

“What is it, 10 minutes?, I’ll pick you up at two, be ready.” She hung up without saying goodbye, leaving me in a quandary, ‘Until now, I didn’t know that we were Fucking.’

Besides us, Marcie had invited two other couples, friends of Tads. The discussions were political in nature which were foreign to me but not to Wendy. I could tell that Tad was impressed with her political savvy.

After dessert, Wendy apologized to Marcie that it was time for us to leave, announcing, “Cotton and I are going to visit the plant growers tomorrow.”

All eyes at the table turned toward us, knowingly, as if to say, ‘they’re fucking.’

“How long will you be gone?” Marcie managed to ask. She had agreed to fill in for me at the shop on Friday but if we were staying over she would need to make plans for a baby sitter for Saturday also.

Wendy looked in my direction, “I don’t know, do you think we can get it all done in two days or will we need to stay over and come back Sunday, honey?”

“We’ll have to discuss it,” I said to Wendy. Then to Marcie, “I’ll call you tonight, we may stay over if that’s okay with you?”

As we moved toward the door my expression must have struck Marcie as funny. “You’ve met you match,” she whispered in my ear as she handed me my jacket.

Outside, I snuck a glace at the house across the street, wondering if Lydia and her children were having thanksgiving dinner. There was no sign of life; perhaps they had been invited to have dinner with another family. I secretly hoped that she was not alone.

Snapping from my reverie when I felt Wendy’s eyes catch me looking at the house across the street, I tried to think of something smart to say about the architecture of the old mansion.

“I understand that house has a maid’s room that has been converted to a sewing room,” she said, giving me one of her ‘I’m-so-fucking-cleaver’ smiles.

‘She knows, shit!, she knows it was Lydia Patton,’ I thought. Somehow, I recovered.

“We’ll stop by my house. Since we’re Fucking,” I said, pausing to watch her reaction. She nodded, wrinkling her forehead, expectantly. “I’m going to bend you over the couch.”

“Hummm, sounds like fun, did you do that with Mrs. P?”

This reinforced my theory about her hang up. I realized why she had not gone through with the wall job. I had explained how it worked but not from personal experience. Wendy had a passion for re-enactment and a thirst for all of the details to make it work. She wanted to hear about Mrs. P being bent over the couch.

Mrs. P had never been to my house. The end had come before I lived there alone, after Marcie’s marriage to Tad. Ellen, my expert teacher, had bent over the couch and offered herself to me so I did have experience with the couch and Ellen, actually experiences.

“Yes, we did it a couple of times,” I lied.

{To be continued}