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After our first time together that Valentine’s weekend, Gina and I entered that phase of a relationship where, once sex has been introduced, it’s like a child’s new toy at Christmas, getting constant use until the novelty wears off. We never left my house from Friday night until Monday morning, and we seldom were more than halfway clothed during that time. That’s not to say we were having sex all the time; there was a good bit of watching TV together, playing cards, napping and snuggling, bathing together, and I even let her convince me to cook a meal for her naked while she watched and hooted.
We were reveling in the joy of the newness of sex. We avoided more serious conversations, though I knew there would be a few of those in our near future. For now, however, we just enjoyed sharing our bodies with each other and seeing what kinds of pleasure we could give and receive. Gina had brought a 10 pack of condoms, and by the time we fell asleep on Sunday, there was only one left.
Before drifting off while curled up in my arms, Gina mumbled in the dark, “What’s tomorrow look like?”
Sighing at being forced to anticipate the end of our happy romp, I said, “I have a class at 11. I should be in my office sometime before then. You?”
“Work from 12 to 5, then an evening class.”
She pulled my arm a little tighter around her body, and I cupped a breast in my hand. With a sleepy voice she asked, “Can you drop me off at home on your way to the office?”
Putting my lips next to her earlobe and tickling it with my breath, I replied, “Is the other option that you would stay here and be waiting for me when I get back?”
She groaned and said, “No…we have to be grown-ups who have real lives now. I’ll see you jogging on Tuesday, though.”
“Yeah, I’ll take you back. Leave around 9?”
We hadn’t stayed up late the night before, so my body woke itself up at 7. I went downstairs and made some bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches on toast. I took them upstairs and found Gina was already in the shower. Setting the food on the bed, I dropped my robe, went into the bathroom and slid the shower door open. Gina was lathering up her hair with her back mostly to me and hadn’t seemed to notice my presence.
I stood there for a moment, watching the way her ass cheeks were clenched together and her boobs jiggled as she rubbed the shampoo in. I took a step towards her and wrapped my arms around her body. My arms crossed in front of her and rested on her ribs. Gina was startled at first and squealed, then she turned her face up to mine, lips puckered. Her eyes were closed and shampoo was running down her face as I gave her a peck on the lips.
I grabbed the body wash and squirted some in my hand. Then I proceeded to rub her shoulders, her back, her arms and her stomach. I cleaned under her breasts, enjoying the weight of them in my hands. I washed between her legs and all around her ass. Gina had stopped washing her hair and was leaning back against me, arms limp at her side. When she reached up and back to wrap her arms around my neck, her breast lifted up, and I renewed my attention to them. She sighed as my hands moved slowly across her chest, up to her neck, and then back down to her mound.
I spoke softly in her ear, “Go ahead and rinse off. Breakfast is on the bed.”
Eyes still closed as water ran through her hair, Gina just hummed in approval, her lips in a contented smile. I stepped out of the shower and dried off, making sure there was another dry towel in reach for Gina. As Gina got out of the shower, I went to get juice to go with our sandwiches. We sat in our towels and robes, eating breakfast, lost in our thoughts. My thoughts were steering into the dangerous waters of my insecurity, so I decided to get conversation going, hoping Gina could draw me onto some solid ground.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked.
Gina looked at me and raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had been staring at the food while chewing on a bite. Then she smiled a little shyly and said, “Nothing serious.”
“All the more reason to tell me.”
“I was thinking you should get one of those trays that you can use to serve breakfast in bed. That way the crumbs wouldn’t be spilling off the plates like they are right now.”
Unfortunately, Gina’s comment had the opposite effect as I had intended. It made me think back to the tray I used to own, and I remembered 2 years earlier, serving Lynn a “morning after Valentine’s Day” breakfast in bed. After we had finished eating, I had set the tray to the side, but still on the bed. Then I had lifted up the bottom of the skimpy nightie she had worn all night (it was merely decorative…and exciting) and proceeded to eat her out. I had licked her to orgasm and kept going. As she was building to a second climax, she had pulled my head up and said in a hoarse voice, “Inside me! Now! Fuck me!”
I apparently had been too slow, crawling carefully into place above her. Before güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri I could enter her, Lynn had grabbed my shoulders and pushed me to the side, trying to get me on my back so she could mount me. But Lynn had forgotten about the tray, and her shove had pushed me right onto it. I couldn’t stop or catch myself, and so with a loud crack, the whole thing had split. As it split, I had fallen through it, landing on a plate of sticky maple syrup.
Lynn had been in a frenzy and didn’t care at the time. She had pushed the broken pieces to the side, straddled my hips, and sunk down onto my shaft- before the pain of the fork in my back caused me to lose my stiffness. Lynn rode me for 3 or 4 minutes until she completed her climax. In the process, I learned that I certainly did not have a masochistic side- the pain and discomfort I experienced in no way heightened my pleasure. I had finally pushed Lynn up and off me and gotten out of bed. Once Lynn realized that I had wood shards and a fork in my back, she was horrified and apologetic. We were able to laugh about it later, and once my wounds were tended to and the sheets were in the wash, Lynn had given me a wonderful blow job as I sat in the wicker chair by our window.
Damn. This had been happening all weekend. I was with Gina, but I couldn’t escape Lynn. She was everywhere, and I never noticed it before she left because she was physically present. I never noticed it after she left because there was no reason not to think about my wife while living alone in the house we had shared. It was only when I was trying to move on that I felt the anchor of my past. It was if Lynn was still there saying, “You can’t replace me!”
Gina noticed my silence and asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“Tray tables,” I answered, truthfully. “And my lecture for today. I hope I don’t come off sounding as unprepared as I am.” And with that, we picked up the plates and started getting ready for the day. Gina pulled some day clothes out of her overnight bag- they’d been in there unused the whole weekend- and put her dress and a few other things in the bag. I got shaved and dressed and packed up my computer bag. By 8:30 I was downstairs, putting dishes in the dishwasher and thinking through my schedule for the week.
I heard Gina’s steps coming down the stairs. She walked over to the patio doors and closed the blinds, making it a bit darker in the room.
“Gareth, I was just packing up, and I realized we have a problem.” She was standing between the dining room table and the kitchen, nervously biting her bottom lip, hands behind her back. I turned to face her and I searched her green eyes for an explanation. I was a little worried, but not even my anxiety-driven brain could imagine what kind of problem would have come up so suddenly.
“What is it, babe?”
She started walking toward me, slowly putting one foot in front of the other so that her hips swiveled with each step. Dressed in yoga pants and a loose t-shirt that hung freely over her breasts, she looked every bit the part of a sexy, young college girl.
“I was putting things in my bag, and I noticed that we still have one…condom…left. I don’t know how we were so careless, but we’re not leaving here until we’ve used all the condoms I brought for this weekend. I don’t want to waste any.” She was trying not to smile, but it must have been hard to keep a straight face when saying such a corny thing.
I glanced at the clock and tried to think it through.
“Don’t look at the clock, Gareth, look at me.” She had gotten to where she was standing right in front of me, my back to the kitchen counter. “It doesn’t matter what time it is, you need to put this on and fuck me. I insist.” She opened the pack, put the condom in my hand, and unbuckled my belt. I was surprised to feel myself reacting after such a full weekend. Even showering with her earlier hadn’t gotten me hard.
As she took my bottom lip gently between her teeth, I said, “Do you want to go upstairs?”
“No. Not enough time.” She spoke slowly and seductively.
“No. There’s no sense in us getting all undressed. We can be efficient about this.” So saying, she shimmied her pants down to mid-thigh and walked over to the counter next to me. She bent over the counter and exposed her ass to me. In contrast to her dark pants and shirt, the skin of her butt cheeks looked creamy white. I couldn’t help but run a hand along its curve.
“No time for that, Gareth. You have a job to do. Now hurry up and fuck…my….pussy.”
This was not the way she’d been acting all weekend, and I knew it was mostly playful, but it was still odd to hear. My cock, however, did not care that it was odd. I slipped the condom on and stood behind her, squatting down a little to line up with her entrance. As I slowly got my tip seated inside her folds, Gina said in a soft voice, her normal voice, “Hard, Gareth, do it hard this time. I want it to echo inside me for a few güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri days, I want to sit in class tonight tingling from the feeling of this. Don’t hold back.”
Not willing to give her the full force of what she was asking for, I still pushed in faster and harder than usual. It still took a few thrusts to get inside all the way. Gina moaned and gripped the counter top. “Hard, Gareth. As hard and as fast as you want to.”
I tilted my head and said with resignation, “OK…but tell me to stop if it hurts.” Pulling out halfway, I pushed as hard as I could. It felt better than I had expected. Gina grunted. I started pumping her at a moderate pace, speeding up as her juices made it easier. My pants slipped to the ground and I stepped out of them. Gina’s much tighter pants stayed in place, and only her ass and pussy were exposed to me.
I felt her breast through her shirt, then snaked one hand under her shirt and sports bra. I soon found that it was a lot easier to just hold her hips. My upward thrusts started forcing her to her tip-toes, and sometimes I even lifted her off the ground, only for her to be dropped down again when I pulled back.
Gina was grunting and emitting nasal moans the whole time. She moved one hand down the front of her pants and started rubbing.
“Do you like it hard?’ I asked between grunts, my breath speeding up.
“Sometimes,” she said breathily. “But no more talking right now. Just fucking.”
I was getting close, so I happily complied. This position was new to us, and as I held deep inside her, I could feel a different part of her walls pressing on my tip. Gina cried out softly when I pushed against it. After a few deep thrusts, I started doing just half thrusts. I felt like I would come at any second. I held off just a little longer, sensing from her frantic rubbing that Gina was close. Her lips were pressed shut, holding back agitated moans.
“Are you close, baby?” I asked, hoping the answer was yes.
I did a few quick thrusts then held deep, grinding against her. That seemed to set her off and she fell forward onto the counter, crying out. Knowing she was cumming was all I needed to push in a few more times and release. I felt deeper inside her at this angle, and I loved shifting down so that the underside of my pulsing cock was pressed against her pubic bone. I could feel the throbbing of each squirt against that hardness inside her body.
I held inside her as we both quivered and trembled. Once I was sure I was done, I grabbed around my base and pulled out. Gina put a hand on my butt cheek to hold me in, moaning, “Nooooo…it’s not over yet.”
“Sorry, love, I’m getting soft. You took everything I have in me this weekend. Any more and it might fall off.”
She sighed and stood up. Not bothering to pull up her pants, she buried her face in my chest and wrapped her arms around my back. Softer Gina was back. “I don’t want to leave,” she said into my arm.
I cupped her exposed bottom and agreed. “It’s not the end, Gina. I’ll see you again soon.”
“I know, but it won’t be the same. I don’t want to go back to worrying about who will see us and all that. It’s…it’s no fun.”
“Well…maybe it won’t always be that way.”
She leaned back and looked in my eyes. Her face told me she knew that was unrealistic, for a long time at least. Our lips met for one more kiss before we got our pants back on. We made it out the door by 9, and I dropped her off at her apartment. She knew not to kiss me in the car, even though we both wanted to.
I made it through my lecture but was distracted the whole time. At first I was thinking about what Gina had told me about the girls in my class, noticing for the first time how disproportionate the gender balance was. But what really distracted me was thinking that having sex with Gina at my house might eventually hurt our relationship, because somehow Lynn kept showing up in my memories. I was trying to think of a way to explain to Gina that we shouldn’t be at my house- the one place we could still be ourselves.
Gina and I jogged together twice that week, our routes overlapping for about 3 miles. We didn’t change our routes, because by not starting or ending together, we could pass it off as coincidence if anyone saw us together. We couldn’t talk much while jogging, but it was nice to just see her and feel connected. It was also nice to know that she was happy to see me. I hadn’t seen that light in Lynn’s eyes for a long time.
Our weekend together had gotten her behind in some classes, so she spent a few days catching up. We didn’t meet again until Saturday evening. We drove far out into the suburbs and played a chilly game of mini-golf. Gina laughed a lot, which made me laugh. I felt younger and more carefree. After golf, we got tacos and talked about all sorts of benign things.
Once we had finished eating and were just sitting at the table talking, Gina smiled at me and said, güvenilir bahis şirketleri “My bag is in your trunk again…”
I looked at her in wonder- “How do you manage to do that without me seeing?”
She let out a joyful laugh and said, “See if you can ever figure it out!”
I narrowed my eyes and said, “I’ll be watching you…”
“You’ll be watching me anyways, admit it.” Then she wiggled in her seat, smacking her hip and saying in a sing-song voice, “Because you… can’t… get… enough of this… booo-taaay!” I didn’t know if that was some pop song I had never heard or if she was making it up. Either way, she was adorable.
“So, ready to go? Back to your place for the night? I’m ready to hit the hay,” she said, wrinkling her nose at her tease.
I didn’t feel like it was the right time and place to talk about my growing discomfort with having her at my house. I wondered if that evening or the next day would provide an opportunity to talk seriously about it.
“Sure. I can get the guest bedroom all set up for you- I guess I can work on my book while you sleep.”
She laughed and threw her straw at me. It bounced off my chest and landed on the tray with all the other trash. I stood up and gave her my hand to help her up. Then we walked arm in arm to the car.
It was still early when we got back- not quite 8pm. I put some jazz music on the living room stereo and poured a couple glasses of wine. We sat together on the couch- me on the end and Gina curled up to my side. It reminded me a little of our New Year’s Eve make-out. I started to remember a different time on that couch, with Jazz music playing and wine in my hand and Lynn crying on my shoulder about a friend of hers who had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. We had talked about death and loss and…
Again I found myself having to force my attention back to Gina. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her or want to be with her. It was just that in unguarded moments, when my mind would wander, all the stimuli in the house would turn my thoughts towards Lynn. I thought maybe I should talk to Gina about it, but then a selfish part of me said to wait until after we had sex at least once, because she’ll probably get pissed off and not want to be with me after that.
Gina began talking, telling me about a time when she was eight or nine and found a bottle of wine in the fridge at home. Thinking it was Kool-Aid, she used it to have a pretend tea party with some other girls in the neighborhood. They had each had one or two teacups of the sweet wine when her brother, who has a teenager, saw the bottle sitting out. He found Gina and the girls and dumped out their drinks. He led them to the living room, put on a movie and gave them all water. Gina and her friends fell asleep for the afternoon, and they all went home with headaches. When her parents got home they asked what happened to the wine, and her brother said he and his friends had taken it. He got grounded for a month that summer.
As Gina was talking, I rubbed her arm and neck with the backs of my fingers. Her voice was getting sad as she ended the story. She handed her nearly empty glass to me and I set it next to mine on the end table. Then Gina put her head on my chest and pulled her legs up close. I pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over us. She closed her eyes and patted around my lap until she found my hand. Pulling it towards her mouth, she kissed my knuckles and then held my hand next to her face.
We stayed like that for a while. The CD reached the end and started over. I may have drifted off for a few minutes once or twice. When I was awake, I would think about the future. I resolved to talk to a lawyer and find out my options regarding Lynn. Surely there was such a thing as “abandonment” as grounds for divorce? If Lynn were officially, legally out of my life, just as she was physically and practically gone, then maybe I could start to move on.
I also considered completely re-doing the house, making it look so entirely different that it would be like being in a new place. New furniture, new pictures, new paint, new appliances. Air it out, remove the lingering aroma of the past.
And as I thought through those options and possibilities, part of me still missed Lynn- the Lynn of the first 5 years of our marriage, not the last year. I knew that these decisions and choices would be much harder if Lynn was there, but her absence left me little alternative. I didn’t think I was “settling” for Gina, not by any stretch of the imagination. But Gina would never have been an option, she wouldn’t have been on my radar even, if Lynn had still been in the picture.
I looked at the hand Gina was holding. I still wore my wedding ring. Part of me said that it was just to avoid uncomfortable questions from people at work. But I knew that it also represented a sliver of hope that what Lynn and I once had together, we would have again. As much as I loved Gina and wanted her in my future, I wasn’t confident that she felt the same about me. She was at an age where romances come and go, where the idea of love is more attractive than love itself. I feared I was just a fling for her. But Lynn and I had committed to be together for the rest of our lives. That was a hard commitment to shake.
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