Peter Jensen - The Virgin Couple

He ran his tongue across his lips, found them to be dry again. He felt a tremor course through his loins. Could he get another hardon so soon? Was that possible? “Yes,” he answered. “Yes, teach me, teach me!”

Her head dropped slowly toward his groin, and suddenly her tongue flicked out, the tip boring teasingly into the glands opening, causing a thin oozing, the final stage of his cum, to flow forth and disappear into her eagerly lapping mouth. She ran her tongue along the flaccid expanse of his prick, down over his soft, wrinkled scrotum, wiping away her own orgasm juices before they could fully coagulate on his genitals. She smiled as she bent to her task, for Barry’s prick was beginning to show signs of hardening again, was stirring beneath her expert oral manipulations. She drew her head back and let him see her smile, and then she said, “I’m going to kiss your lovely cock until it gets hard again, lover. Then I’ll suck you for a while. Would you like that?”

“Yes… oh, yes!”

“After that, we’ll take a towel and go out in the rear yard. We’ll sixty-nine under the open sky. Have you ever done that before, ‘Barry?”

“No, God, it sounds wonderful!“

“It will be,” she promised. “It will be, lover.”

As she bent her head to his cock and his balls again, Barry knew that this was going to be an afternoon he would not soon forget.

When the doorbell rang, Kim Sutton was busily vacuuming the living room. With Barry gone, she had decided that it was a good time to do a little spring housecleaning; she had been hard at that chore-rearranging furniture, waxing floors, dusting, vacuuming, cleaning out closets and cupboards-since he’d left for the Gorens’ cabin some two hours earlier. She hadn’t even paused to fix herself something to eat.

At the sound of the door chimes, she switched off the vacuum and ran one slender hand through her long raven hair. She looked down at her attire-black, stirrup-tooted stretch pants and a sleeveless, pale green jersey blouse-and ruefully hoped it wasn’t anybody important (like Barry’s agent or somebody, even though she knew that was ridiculous). She padded across to the door and opened It, and her eyes widened in momentary surprise. But then she smiled warmly and said, “Why… hello, Jack! This is a pleasant surprise!”

Jack Goren smiled cheerily at her. “Hi, Kim. Looks like you’ve been doing a little housework.”

“A lot of it, actually,” Kim corrected lightly. “Won’t you come in?’ “Thanks.” He stepped in past her. “Nice little place you got here,” he observed.

“Well, it’s pretty small. As soon as Barry finishes the novel, and we get the rest of the money according to his contract, we’re going to move into something a little larger.”

“Don’t pick Sea Cliff,” Goren said. “Too damned much fog.”

Kim laughed. “Can I get you something, Jack?”

“No, thanks. Listen, Kim, the reason I dropped over is that I had a great idea.

I was sitting home, staring at the television, and I got to thinking how you were likely home all alone, too. Well, since our spouses are both up at the cabin in Salmoon Creek, I said to myself, "Why shouldn’t Kim and I drive up and meet them there? We could all have dinner together, to sort of celebrate things.” He grinned down at her. “What do you think of the idea?’ “Well… I don’t know. If Barry’s working on his novel…

“I don’t really think he’d mind. After all, this is the first day up there; he’s going to have many more of them in which to work. I thought it would be enjoyable for all of us. And it’ll give you a chance to look over the old man’s new workshop.”

“Well…“ Kim said again. “All right, maybe it would be fun at that. Shall I change my clothes?’ “Heck, no,” Goren answered. He waved a hand to indicate his polo shirt and sports slacks and canvas shoes. “Ultra-casual, that’s the epitome of sartorial elegance, as far as I’m concerned.”

Kim chuckled appreciatively. “Okay, then. But if my husband Is angry, you’ll have to shoulder the blame,” she teased.

"Deal."

Kim fetched her purse. She debated briefly putting away the vacuum, and straightened up a little more-and then decided that that could wait until tomorrow. She would have plenty of time for continued housewifely chores then.

Gaily, she took Jack Goren’s arm. “Shall we go, sir?”

“By your leave, madam.”

They were both laughing as they climbed into Goren’s impressive Lincoln Continental parked in front.

The drive from San Francisco was beautiful and relaxing, and Kim sat next to Jack Goren with pleasure. She talked continually, usually about nothing in particular or especially important. Things were finally going well for her, for Barry, and she felt the need to talk, to release some of her bubbling enthusiasm. Goren smiled and drove the Continental with one ear cocked toward the young, beautiful woman.

Occasionally Goren would add something, but only to praise Barry, and this made Kim all the more glad that she had decided to accompany him. The miles passed swiftly, and the quiet comfort of the luxury automobile made the passage of time effortless. Yes, Kim was at the very height of happiness. Her husband could get the book finished at last, she would not be worried nearly so much over him, and the two of them had met just the finest of people, the Gorens.

Shortly after they passed San Raphael, Goren said: “Reach in the back, Kim, and open the ice chest, will you?’

Kim turned her body, noticing the bright red Styrofoam container balanced on the rear seat. Goren watched her as she moved, her legs stretching the elastic of her pants as she brought them up under her, as she swiveled to lean over the back rest. Her breasts were outlined against the thin jersey blouse, the material clinging to the bra underneath so that her protruding hillocks were shadowed and detailed provocatively. She flattened them against the cushions as she leaned, and Goren gave out an involuntary groan of desire, for he wanted to have his palms around those breasts, squeezing and kneading and pressing them into the same kind of shape. She kneeled on the seat, exclaiming, “Oh! What did you bring along, Jack?”

“Open it and see, Kim.” He brought his vision back to the highway, his tongue licking dry, hungry lips. “I wasn’t sure whether Barry would have thought to stop for groceries, so there’s some steaks in there, along with some leftover cole slaw and some other things.”

Kim laughed and squirmed her tightly-encased buttocks in an unconscious way.

“You’re probably right about Barry. I don’t think he’d remember me, once he’s there by himself. That book seems to have taken over everything.”

Goren chuckled. “Well, it’ll all work out for the best, if the book is a success. Which I’m sure it will be.”

Kim started to turn around again, but Goren stopped her, placing a hand on her upper thigh. “Grab the thermos in there, will you, Kim?” She hesitated from the touch of his friendly, almost too friendly-hand on her leg. Oh, his morals were unquestionable, of course, and she felt perfectly safe with him in the car… but still a faint, swiftly passing mental image of him, a perfect stranger, lewdly grasping and pawing her, rippled with cold dread through her mind, and she froze, shivering slightly.

The hand stayed a split second too long, she thought, but before she could object or move away, or really become aware that the hand was the menace her intuition warned her it was, Coren placed it back on the steering wheel.

“And a couple of those plastic cups, too,” he added.

It must have been her imagination, Kim thought, returning to comply with his request. She lifted the lid of the case and on top of the cubed ice, packed next to the butcher-paper wrapped steaks, was a large, ribbed aluminum thermos jug. The cups were handily beside the thermos, and she took two along with the thermos as she rolled around to face front again.