In Summertime Saga

Jenny rolled her hips and watched my face like she was learning a language.

She was on top and the lamp was warm on her shoulders and the phone was recording and she was moving in slow experimental circles, testing angles, watching what made my jaw tighten or my hands grip harder on her thighs. Every few seconds she'd try a different roll and check my reaction and adjust and try again. It almost made me laugh. Jenny optimizing. Even here.

She shifted her weight forward and the angle changed and we both felt it and she stopped moving for a second, mouth open, and then did it again. Slow. Her hands flat on my chest. Her hips grinding forward instead of bouncing and the pressure was different, deeper, and she exhaled hard through her nose and her eyes went half-closed.

"That's good," she said. Mostly to herself.

I let her set the pace and figure out what her body wanted without me driving. My hands were on her thighs and the muscles worked under her skin as she moved and she was wet from round one and the slide was easy and slick and her breasts moved with each roll and I watched them and watched her face and kept my hips still. Jenny taking what she wanted without asking was hotter than any position we'd tried.

She rode for a while. Slow circles that got wider and tighter and then wider again. She'd find a spot that made her breath catch and she'd stay on it and grind until her thighs shook and then she'd shift and look for another one. Her hands moved from my chest to the headboard above me and the angle changed and what she felt changed with it. Her skin was flushed pink from her chest up and a bead of sweat ran down between her breasts and she didn't wipe it and I watched it track down her stomach and disappear where our bodies met.

She leaned back, hands on my thighs behind her, and the angle went shallow and she closed her eyes and rolled her hips in a slow figure-eight and her mouth fell open. She stayed there. Her stomach muscles were flexing and her breasts were lifting with each breath and she looked like she'd forgotten I was a person and was using me like furniture and I was fine with that. I was extremely fine with that.

I grabbed her hips and tilted her pelvis forward half an inch and pushed up into her and she gasped. Her mouth opened and her eyes widened and her hands came off the headboard and slammed onto my chest.

"How do you-"

She didn't finish. She braced her hands and started riding harder, faster, using the angle I'd set, and the bed started to creak and her breasts were bouncing and she was breathing in short sharp bursts and her hair was swinging. I held her hips at the angle and pushed up every time she came down and each stroke drew a sound out of her, higher and tighter.

I sat up. Wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her flush against me. She was in my lap and my chest was against hers and we were face to face and close enough that her breath was on my mouth. Her arms went around my neck. Her forehead pressed against mine. The rhythm changed, got shorter, tighter, less movement more pressure, her grinding down onto me in small circles with my cock deep inside her and her clit rubbing against me with each shift.

Her breasts were pressed flat against my chest and her heart was going fast against my ribs and her skin was slick with sweat and we were breathing the same air.

"Fuck," she whispered. "Fuck that's-"

Her eyes were closed and her mouth was on my neck and she was breathing hot and fast against my skin. Her hips were making smaller circles and she was clenching tighter around me with each one and I turned my head and bit the side of her throat. Gentle. Teeth and pressure, holding the skin and sucking and her whole body shuddered. She clenched around me hard and her nails dug into my back and she came with her face buried in my shoulder, shaking, her arms tight around my neck and her hips still grinding in tiny circles and the sound she made was muffled against my skin and her teeth were on my shoulder and I held her through it with my arm around her waist and my mouth on her neck and she shook for a long time.

She went slack against me. Breathing hard. Her forehead dropped onto my shoulder and her arms loosened and she was dead weight in my lap and her pulse was going in her thighs and against my chest and where she was clenching around me in slow aftershocks.

I held her. Still inside her and still hard and she was pulsing around me and every pulse made my hips want to move and I waited. Let her come down. Her breathing slowed and she lifted her head from my shoulder and her eyes were glazed and her lips were swollen and she looked at me and almost smiled.

I wasn't done.

I lifted her off me. She came up with a wet sound and I pulled out and my cock was slick and the cool air hit it and she exhaled at the emptiness and the mess between her thighs was visible, cum from round one mixed with how wet she was now, glistening on her inner thighs and on me.

I flipped her over. She went onto her stomach, no resistance, and I grabbed her hips and pulled them up and she got her knees under her, ass up, her face turning to the side on the pillow.

I pushed back into her from behind. Different angle. Deeper. The re-entry was slick and easy because she was soaking and swollen and I sank all the way in and she made a sound into the pillow that was muffled and raw and her fingers grabbed at the sheets.

My hand went to her hair. Holding. My fingers closed in it near the base of her skull and held and she turned her head to the side to breathe and her cheek was against the pillow and her eyes were open and unfocused and her mouth was swollen and wet.

I started moving. Long strokes, slow at first, and every push forward pressed her hips down and every pull back made her arch to follow. The angle was deep and tight and she was gripping me on every stroke, clenching on the outstroke. I pulled almost all the way out and pushed back in slow and she exhaled hard into the pillow and her fingers clawed at the sheets.

The lamp light caught the curve of her lower back and the dimples above her ass and my hand on her hip was pressing white marks into her skin.

"Don't stop," she said.

Her real voice.

I didn't stop. I went harder. Shorter strokes, my hand gripping her hip, my other hand still in her hair, and the bed was hitting the wall and she didn't glance at the phone. She'd forgotten the camera. Jenny Cummings had forgotten a camera was recording her having sex. That was worth more than any compliment she'd ever give me.

"Ah- fuck- ah- nn-"

Her hands gripped the sheets and pulled them off the corner of the mattress and her back dipped and her ass pushed back into me and she was meeting every stroke, pushing back harder. The wet sounds were loud now, louder than round one, slick and obscene, and the bed frame was slamming the wall and she wasn't trying to be quiet anymore and Debbie was down the hall and neither of us cared.

I was getting close. The room was getting smaller and all I could see was her back and the curve of her waist and her dark hair in my fist and her ass pressing back into my hips. My orgasm was building in my legs and my stomach and every stroke she pushed back harder and her sounds were continuous now, rising, and she reached back with one hand and grabbed my thigh and her nails dug in and she pulled me into her harder on every stroke and my hips were moving faster than I was deciding to move them.

I came. My hand tightened on her hip, hard, and I buried myself deep and my hips locked forward and I pulsed inside her and she pushed back and clenched and the sound I made was ugly and low and she held me there with her hand on my thigh while I finished and she was squeezing around me in slow tight pulses that pulled every last bit out.

I held there. Eyes closed. Hand in her hair and hand on her hip and my cock still inside her and my heart slamming.

Then I let go.

Collapsed onto the mattress beside her. Face down. Breathing into the sheet that smelled like both of us. My arms felt heavy and my legs felt heavy and the pillow was cool against my cheek and I didn't move.

Silence. The fan turned. The lamp hummed. Somewhere outside a car drove past and the headlights swept across the ceiling and faded.

Jenny's voice, muffled by the pillow she hadn't lifted her face from: "Where the fuck did you learn that."

I almost said it. The truth was right there. Previous life. Other women. A different body doing this a hundred times before it caught two bullets on a bedroom floor. It was on my tongue.

"Natural talent," I said.

She snorted into the pillow. "Bullshit."

I stared at the ceiling and breathed and my hand found hers on the mattress between us and her fingers were limp and warm and she let me hold them without squeezing back. We lay like that for a while. I was done. Spent. The room was coming back. Jenny. My bed. The phone's red dot on the nightstand.

The room smelled like sex and sweat and coconut shampoo and the candle from Jenny's first shoot was on my dresser now and I didn't remember putting it there. Jenny colonized.

My hip was sore where her knee had been digging in during cowgirl and my back had scratches that stung when the sheet touched them and there were teeth marks on my shoulder. My hand ached from gripping her hip and the marks would be there in the morning. Purple fingerprints on her hip bone. Debbie would see those if Jenny wore her shorts around the house.

Jenny rolled over onto her back. Pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed up over both of us. She didn't get up. She didn't go to her room. She reached over and turned off the lamp and the room went dark except for the phone's red dot and the streetlight through the window.

She didn't say goodnight. She pulled the blanket to her chin and closed her eyes.

I turned onto my side. She was going to sleep here.

In the game, Jenny's route ended with her in his bed. The MC stumbled into it through escalating transactions and accidental discoveries. I'd done it faster and with more control and Jenny had come to me earlier tonight in a t-shirt and bare feet because I'd walked away from her three times and the fourth time she'd thrown a pillow at my head and she was staying. She was staying and she hadn't asked because Jenny didn't ask. Jenny decided.

I closed my eyes. Her shoulder was against my arm. The bed was warm and the pillow smelled like her and my hand was still in hers. On the nightstand, the phone's red dot glowed.

Tomorrow Debbie would see Jenny come out of my room. She'd be wearing my shirt because of course she'd take my shirt. Debbie would notice. Nobody would say anything. The temperature would change.

Jenny's breathing slowed. She was asleep.

I reached over and stopped the recording.