This is the twenty-fifth chapter of “The Jennings Family.” As we have stated in earlier chapters, the story contains bisexuality and sexual acts involving adults and under-age minors, both related and non-related, in accordance with the shared story preferences of the authors. If any of this is objectionable to you, you might like to leave and go to another story.
As was the case regarding the earlier stories that this team has produced and the previous chapters of this story, the reader should realize that the usual disclaimer applies about how this is purely fictional and none of the actions, persons, and places in the story really exist. Nothing in this story should be read as anything but fictional.
Feedback, which is desired and appreciated, can be sent to “Brad Gillespie” at the address RBZ followed by the digits 3141 at gmail.com. Please put the story title in the subject line. But don't be surprised if the name on the responses is different. That e-mail account is under a different pseudonym than the one I used to write this story.
Feedback to “Tucson Daddy” can be sent to lannyr99 at yahoo.com.
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Tim's cell phone rang once, twice, and a third time before it switched over to auto-answer. The voice was as familiar as his own. “Tim, sorry I missed you. Just to let you know that I'm going to take that trip to Omaha I told you about last week. Later, buddy,” said Jeff before he hung up.
Then he picked up his backpack and went out the back door and across the alley to find the two loose boards in the fence. Pulling them out, he slipped between them through the narrow space. He was thankful for his regular regimen at the gym, which he could maintain because of having a free membership through the University's generous health care package. He looked around cautiously. No suspicious heads peered over the privacy fences. Re-attaching the latches at the base of the loose boards, he turned and went to the house, gave a quick knock on the door, and it was opened. Someone had been waiting for his signal.
“Everything ready?” he whispered to his host, who nodded.
“This way. My car is in the garage, just as you asked,” he replied in a calm voice.
Entering, Jeff got into the back and lay down across the entire seat. The other pressed the button by the door, and the garage door glided up. He got into the driver's seat. Depressing the START button, the engine came to instant life. He buckled up, rotated his body so he could look out the rear windshield, and slowly began to back out.
Tim knew none of this because he was in the shower with a particularly nubile young woman, enjoying the supreme joy of having his body washed. She was very, very good at this. So good that Tim hoped for more, but knew it could not go on. At this very moment, arousal had nearly peaked. It was about to end.
There are very few things that can entice an energetic, hormone-energized, and horny young man to respond to in such an enthusiastic way as those three little words: “Fuck me, Timmy!”
One among the many things he liked about Fran was her nearly insatiable appetite for sex. Anywhere or any time. She was like a crate of dynamite trapped in a match box that could go off with the slightest touch. For Fran, it was her desire to help young men explore the furthest range of sexual delights. To go where none of her lovers had gone before. Some interests were so kinky that even the most avid explorers felt they should be left for others to pursue.
Tim, with his wonderfully thick prick, was one of the few lucky ones. After the first two dates, she had found his sexual boundaries… and pushed them. At first, Tim was squeamish when she whispered her desire into his ear, but relented and was soon enjoying a new kink with her. Later, in happy reverie, he'd recall what she had enticed him to do with her, for her, or allowed her to do for him. Once he was fully accustomed to this revision to his sensual menu, she whispered again. In a very short time, he was wondering why he'd ever been turned off by this act or that. It was no surprise when David demonstrated his equally powerful interest in the same. Their love making sessions gave him increasingly more powerful ejaculations.
Screwing Fran in the showers was one of the more popular for both of them. She'd earlier began her laving of him with the usual fantastic blow job, allowing him to progress only so far. He lifted her, naked legs wrapped around his waist, to impale her wet pussy onto his stiff and throbbing cock. When it was fully seated into her, she sighed deeply and said, “Ooooh, Timmy. Baby. You feel so good in me.”
Hardened nipples, like small spikes, pressed into his chest, their marks making the intimate moment even more so. Head thrown back, she was imploring him to further ease the ache in her deepest place. He had her braced against the wall tiles sufficiently well that she'd not slip down, until they'd exhausted their libido. He thrust into her slowly, wanting to build up to a crescendo. Fran was not to be denied.
“Harder! Fuck me harder, you bastard,” she almost snarled, knowing how her words stirred him to greater effort. “Use that cock, damn it. Use me, Fuck me hard.” Her harsh words stung him, but her moans inspired his cock to grow even stiffer. “Gawd, but I'm soooo horny!” She had him panting, yearning, longing to do as she begged. Sometimes he paced himself with the intent of teasing her, and she would pump enthusiastically back in rhythm with his thrusts, matching him pant for pant.
“Now, you fucking bastard. Now! Show me you're a real man. Damn you!” she growled.
He felt her pain, for he was ready to give her high gear. Slamming into her, feeling her cheeks bounce against his thighs. Thrusting even harder, her demeanor changed from an animal to a whimpering maiden, who was sighing, “Mmm… So good. Mmm…” That was just before she turned her face to bury it in his chest, where she muffled her scream of primal lust, and came.
He was breathing hard, panting, his heart racing when he slammed into her once more, trying to drive his cock even deeper into her sopping pussy. He followed her to their heavenly apex with a tremendous ejaculation. Their soothed libidos left them sobbing, nearly incapable of breath.
Tim held her tightly as she held him, unmoving. When his flaccid prick slipped from her to flop down over his pussy-juice-drenched sack, her eyes opened, she smiled, and kissed him deeply. Their lips parting, she whispered. “You get better each time. You are a machine. I love you.”
He smiled too, the same afterglow affecting him. At this moment, she was the only one for him. Had she asked him to board a plane for Katmandu, he would have left immediately, forgoing anything. With Fran, clothing seemed the sole optional aspect of their relationship. She was the only woman who owned his heart. She knew it and pressed that advantage. Her beauty, first-rate figure, impressive skills with mouth, tits, cunt, and ass were constant reminders.
He allowed her to slide down until her feet touched the floor. She slipped from his arms, and said coquettishly, “Now I need to wash part of you again.” She lowered herself to her knees, so that her mouth could take his cock, covered with her woman's juices and his semen. He gasped at the intense feelings she was stirring in him again.
Still breathless, he giggled, “Baby, you can do that for the next hour, but I'm drained. Ain't no more fucking for awhile.”
She rose again to press her lips against his in an erotic sharing of the lingering flavor of their mingled loving. His tongue joined hers in a slow dance, then swallowed. His shining eyes gazed into her dark pools. “You are one hell of a lover, honey. I love you too,” he said, meaning every syllable. Holding her unresistingly to him, they slowly swayed.
A loud voice broke through, “Hey, you guys gonna be in there much longer?”
“Holy shit,” muttered Tim. “We are so busted!”
“I'd rather be busted with you than anybody else, well, except maybe more with David,” she joked.
“Coming right out. Give us a few seconds to dry off.”
Acquiescent muttering followed, while they grabbed their towels to do a cursory wipe down. Towels wrapped around themselves, they slunk from the shower cubicle and down the hall.
“Next time, do that in your room,” was the angry whispered comment they heard in passing.
Subdued, yet still feeling the effects of their recent amorous endeavors, their still-damp bodies showed that they'd been showering. Guilty smiles testified that other activities were involved. Delicious, heated activities.
He tested the door handle. Still locked, which meant Jacob wasn't back yet. Using his own key, he unlocked, so they could enter. Once inside, they dropped their towels.
“Turn around slowly,” Tim said to her.
Grinning, she did as he asked. Raising her arms, she swayed as she took each step. He wanted to drink in her body and face. She wanted him to see her like this every chance they were together. Her figure was her propaganda machine, pouring out the unspoken.
“You are so beautiful, Fran,” he whispered, meaning every word. “I love the sight of your body. Would you reconsider, and let me take some pictures of you? I'm honest. You know I'd never share them with anybody.”
She laughed softly, moving toward him, swaying seductively. “Timmy, my dear. I have no doubt that you'd not. My intention is to keep you interested in me by offering my body for your viewing and enjoyment. The best way to handle this until we get married…” she paused, waiting for his denial. This time, none came. Her quizzical glance drew a broad smile and a shake of the head.
Extending his hand, she took it and moved into his arms. “Fran, my sweet. You are the fairest woman I know, and I love you deeply, but… I am committed totally to my education. In another three-plus years, maybe I'd propose, well, you know… the ‘m’ word. For now all I can offer is my love, and hot sex.”
A knock at the door disturbed their tête-à-tête.
“Probably David. I told him I'd be here.”
The voice coming through the door confirmed it was he.
“Come in, David,” Tim said.
Fran was already dressing, panties on and fastening her bra, when he entered, and closed the door.
“Hey, Tim,” he said, reaching out to press Tim's fist against his own.
“Hey,” Tim responded.
“Fran said she'd be here… Oh, there you are. Need any help getting undressed?” he laughed.
She stopped, looked at him with her lovely smile, and said, “Too late. Tim used me up. There's no more to give for the moment, but in another fifteen minutes…” Her t-shirt was the next item. Reaching for her shorts, she added, “Anyway. You can have me. He's already broken my heart.” A toss of her head indicted Tim, who broke out laughing.
“What?” asked David in mock horror. “Turned down your marriage proposal? Again?”
She stood, pulled on her shorts, buttoned and zipped them. “Yes! The bastard! I give him my body and let him look at me all he wants, but he refuses to possess me permanently. Look at him! He's barely gotten his eyeballs back in his head. I may end my life.”
They all smiled at Fran's mockery, though the three of them were aware of her crush on Tim. She had no room for criticism, since he'd told her at the beginning of their fiery affair that he was committed to his engineering studies. He still remembered her flimsy promise of “no strings sex.”
“Guess I'd better get dressed too. I feel so self-conscious, being the only naked person in the room,” and Tim moved to his bed to put himself in order. A few minutes later, he too was clothed. It was then he saw his cell phone blinking. Someone had left a voice mail. He reached for it, pressed buttons, and placed it to his ear.
While Fran and David talked, politely ignoring him while he listened to the message, the tinny voice delivered the words he thought he'd never receive. Deleting it, he hung up and put the phone in its holster. Since he made no comment about it, both observed the protocol and asked no questions, though they were curious. “Wrong number,” he said. They both nodded understandingly.
“How about a beer?” Tim was about to ask, when the doorknob rattled and swung open. Jacob stood there with a woman so beautiful that even Fran was speechless. Jacob smiled, used to such a response when people met Belle.
They stepped in and he closed the door behind them. “Belle, I'd like to introduce you to my roommate, Tim. Tim, this is Annabelle.”
She stepped forward and took his hand in hers. “I'm pleased to meet you, Tim. Jacob has told me so much about you.”
“I'm equally pleased to meet the woman Jacob can't stop talking about. I can understand why.”
Jacob continued introductions, pointing. “Over here are Fran and David. Great people.”
“Fran, I'm delighted to meet Jacob's friends. David, you too.” They shook hands all around.
“You guys thirsty? Want a beer?” Tim asked, gazing at the vision before them.
Jacob didn't have a chance to answer when Belle said, “We'd love one.”
Jacob went to the mini-fridge, took out two bottles, twisted the lids off, and brought them to his bed. He handed one to Belle, who was seated there, then sat down next to her.
“Did you have a good flight home?” Tim asked her.
“Uneventful. My favorite kind,” she answered. “The main thing is that I'm happy to be back home with husband.” She leaned toward him, took his arm in hers, and put her cheek against his. “I've missed him so.”
Their conversation went on in fits and starts. Finally Fran got the message. “David, we should go. I've got that paper to write.”
“Oh! Yeah! We should. Go, that is.” He was having a hard time keeping his eyes from staring at Belle. They rose from the bed; Tim saw them to the door. After saying good night, he closed and locked it, then returned to sit on his bed.
Jacob was grinning broadly, looking nervously excited.
“OK. Something's going on,” Tim probed.
“We talked about it,” replied Jacob.
Tim looked puzzled. “It?” he asked.
“Jacob told me about his, let us call it conversion. How watching you and that other guy, David, fuck, caused some old memories to surface,” Belle told him.
“It was all so new to me. When I met him, he seemed to be the straightest guy I've ever met. When he told me he'd sucked your cock and how much he liked doing it, I saw a new Jacob struggling to the surface. I want to encourage that and see where it goes.”
“So you and I can take that next step you've been talking about!” burst out Jacob.
“You mean uhm… fucking?” asked Tim.
She laughed. “I understand this isn't a conversation you've had before. After all how many wives negotiate with a guy who wants to have gay sex with her husband? Makes for an odd situation, doesn't it?”
Tim blushed and nodded. While getting used to the idea of what she had said, he felt growing excitement in saying the words. “Yes, it is.”
“You're excited about it, aren't you?” she asked.
“Yes, I am. Now that we've crossed that line, I am excited about, uhm… having sex with Jacob,” Tim admitted.
“So am I,” she confided. Her large stiff nipples showed clearly through the flimsy material of the bra and her t-shirt.
Her statement seemed similarly out of line with a happily married woman. First, arranging with him to have gay sex, now explaining that the thought of it was exciting her.
“You see, Tim, Jacob and I married young. Our marriage was and still is very important to us. We will reject every effort to be enticed away from each other and our bonding with all our heart, soul, and strength. When we accepted that we were both highly sexed, we found a way that would at least limit full intercourse, but allow us to release the pressure. Manual masturbation is so very unsatisfying.”
“Yes, Jacob explained it to me.”
“My husband seemed like the straightest guy I'd ever met. When I learned that his dad constantly spoke out against homosexuals, I felt even more secure in that assessment. We began dating and he, like the guys I'd dated before since I was in the eighth grade, demonstrated that he was just like all the other boys. ‘Please, please can I touch you: your breast, your pussy, your ass!’ I gave him my offer: a blow job instead. It worked. Kept my poor baby less tense.”
“Then things changed after you and he were going to be separated. He told me about that too.”
“When he came out to me that he'd been having sex, not with a woman, as I had anticipated, but with you, it took some time for me to absorb that bit of data. After giving it some thought, I realized that deep down inside, he was a little gay.”
“Bisexual is the term,” corrected Tim.
“Yes, he's bisexual. From what I've gone on line to observe, gay sex is just boring. Until my loving man told me he was doing it. When I replaced the image of two plastic men grunting like animals and visualized him,” she pointed at Jacob, “and you sucking each other or you pounding his anus with your cock like you might do a woman, well, it inflamed me so much that I want to have Jacob to do this with you.”
“Knowing that you are cautious about your partners, and drug free, I think you are the safest and best partner for him.” Her hand had strayed to her thigh, where she scratched lightly as though quelling an itch.
“I am truly impressed with your open-minded view of this whole situation. Yet one thing still remains unanswered,” said Tim.
“What?” asked Jacob.
“This falls partly outside the parameters of your joint agreement on sex. This, in fact, opens up an entirely new negotiation,” he said, almost as though they were discussing foreign policy with Uganda.
“For one thing, you are here. You can have sex with each other. But he can fuck, while you are denied similar satisfaction. How do you resolve that?”
She smiled. “Tim, for a guy bright enough to be a top engineering student, you overlook the most obvious of all solutions.”
Tim's brow furrowed; he was puzzled. She remained silent, a small mysterious smile on her lips.
Then his smile broadened slowly. “I got it!”