Before I can stop it, I’m jerking, convulsing, and shooting my load against her white cotton underwear and the inside of her skirt.
“Fuck! Holy crab rangoons!” I shout as the orgasm makes me twitch and my toes curl.
“Are you coming already?” Jenny asks.
“I’m sorry! YES! Oh f**k YES!”
She keeps moving against me and all of a sudden begins shouting her own excitement.
“Oh my gosh me too! Oh yes, yes, yes!” she yells, sitting up on top of me and thrashing her head all around. “OHHHHHHHHHH, OOOOOOOOOH!”
I lie perfectly still wondering what the f**k is going on as she starts slapping her hands against my bare chest and continues to flop her head all over the place, her long hair smacking me in the face as she works out the longest orgasm in the history of orgasms.
“YES! YES! YES! YES! OHHHHHHHHH YES YES YES!”
I’m completely amazed that she’s still going strong. My penis has already started to go soft and her vagina isn’t even touching it right now. She’s just humping air.
“YES! YES! DON’T STOP! OOOOOOOOOH YES!”
Don’t stop what exactly? Don’t stop lying here wondering how this is happening right now?
She finally ceases all movement and collapses on top of me, breathing heavy and sighing in contentment.
Within seconds she’s up and off of me and standing next to the bed. She leans down and kisses my cheek. “That was amazing. I’m going to go check on the kids.”
She walks out of the room, and I’m left in bed with a shirt torn in half, naked from the waist down, my wilted c**k resting against my thigh, and twenty Barbie heads silently judging me when I hear her shout from across the hall.
“What the hell happened to Veronica’s hair?!”
Chapter 8 – The Great Swami
It’s been two weeks since I attempted the “fake it till you make it” with Drew and I think it was a total success. He knows I still want him and that got me off the hook for a little while to try and get my libido back in shape. I had a little bit of doubt that my performance wasn’t good enough and that Drew suspected I had been faking that day, but after a little pep talk to myself, I knew I was a golden shower.
I had made Liz play that scene from When Harry Met Sally seven times and then Claire made me act out the scene to make sure I got it right.
“Don’t keep your eyes open. You’re totally giving it away by staring straight ahead looking bored,” Claire stated.
I tipped my head back, closed my eyes, and started moaning loudly.
“How’s this?”
“You sound like a dying cat. A dying cat that’s trying to catch snowflakes. Put your tongue away and close your mouth,” Liz scolded.
“Really get into it. Picture someone telling you that tonight, you will sleep twelve hours straight without any interruptions,” Claire instructed.
I screamed in ecstasy and shout words I didn’t even know how to pronounce.
“Wow, you nailed that one,” Liz said in awe.
“Yeah, I guess we found your sweet spot. Just imagine you’re asleep when you’re banging Drew,” Claire said with a laugh.
“Hey, before we had Billy, our sex life was very exciting and I never would have needed to think about sleep. We were even finalists in a p**n home movie contest. The contest required us to use four props. Two living things, one gas operated power tool, and jumper cables,” I told them.
“You really need to stop sharing things like this with us,” Liz complained. “But seriously. Do it exactly how you just did and it will be perfect.”
It had been perfect, if I do say so myself. I don’t get why Drew is still acting weird though. You would think that since he got off he would be in a better mood. I mean, he came without even having sex. That’s got to be a good thing. And since he thinks he got me off too, he should be feeling pretty good about himself. But he’s been moody and sad and hasn’t even made any comments about bending me over the table in days. Something definitely isn’t right with him.
Our neighbors call to invite us over for a cook-out this evening, and I take them up on their offer. In the few years we’ve lived in this house, we’ve never done anything with our neighbors. They are a very strict, religious couple, and we obviously aren’t.
Before I had got pregnant with Billy, Liz hosted a sex toy party on our back deck. The wife had been outside tending to her garden and saw thirty women waving vibrators around and trying to pop blown up condoms by grabbing a partner, putting the condom between them, and hugging each other as tightly as they could to get the condom to explode. The condoms had been full of lotion and everyone was screaming and throwing vibrators at each other.
I’m pretty sure that’s why every time I see her out in the yard, she turns and runs back into her house.
Getting an invite from her for a cookout had been a shock but I figure it couldn’t hurt. If anything, maybe this couple could help Drew and I learn to communicate better. I mean, they are religious people. They must know how to talk to each other and how to make a marriage work. I bet I can get some really good advice from them.
“The freaks invited us to their house?”
“Will you stop calling them that?” I complain as I put a pink bow clip in Veronica’s hair.
“What’s a fweak?” Veronica asks.
“The crazy people who live next door,” Drew replies as he pulls a onesie out of Billy’s drawer that reads: Screw the titties and milk. Give me a beer.