Chapter 23 Jonah
JONAH
Sharing a house with Winnie is turning out to be pure torture.
Earlier today in the Jeep, I almost leaned in and nuzzled her neck.
She was so close, and she smelled so good, and I had to rip myself away from her.
I can’t seem to think straight around her.
That incident, combined with the dirty images her shower conjured up yesterday, and the way her silk robe brushed against me this morning, has me keyed up and distracted all damn day.
I make a fool of myself at work multiple times and the horses can definitely tell I’m unsettled.
By the time I get into bed, I’m aching for release and too distracted to read or watch television.
Nothing is enough to get my mind off of her.
But Winnie is in her room right now too, so why the hell not?
It’s not like she’ll hear me—I’ll just be very quiet.
I ease my pants down past my knees and start to stroke myself.
Immediately, Winnie’s face fills my mind, and I don’t bother feeling guilty about it. I’ve thought my wife was beautiful since we met, and she’ll never know that I’ve imagined her like this. It’s my dirty secret, and that’s fine.
I grip my cock and pump it, thinking about Winnie’s perfect, rosebud lips wrapping around it.
Fuck. She’s got a perfect mouth and I can’t help wanting to fill it.
I jerk myself harder, and imagine her getting on her knees for me, her soft hair obscuring half her face.
I gather it in one hand and hold it away from her face for her, as she starts to suck me down.
I let out a grunt, and then pause.
“Fuck,” I whisper. I should be quiet. I sure as hell don’t want Winnie to hear me, but I’m not used to moderating my behavior at home. I’ve gotten used to being in the house by myself.
Maybe it’s better I stop.
But then I hear a whimper from the room next to mine, where my wife is undoubtedly lying in the bed that belongs to me. I get up and listen closely. I hear her moan again, and then I hear the distinct sound of a vibrator turning on.
My wife is doing the same thing as me. And she isn’t being that quiet about it.
Blood surges to my cock again, and I brace one hand against the wall.
I fist my cock with the other. I no longer imagine Winnie taking me in her mouth.
I think about the scene playing out on the other side of the wall, not three feet from me.
I think about my wife giving herself pleasure, her long legs spread out on my bed, her vibrator buried inside her cunt, her other hand massaging her clit.
I imagine her fucking herself with the wand, filling herself exactly the way she wants.
It sets me on fucking fire. I hear myself groan into the room, louder than before.
Winnie’s moans stop and the vibrator goes silent. She must be aware of what’s going on now, and has paused what she’s doing. I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue. If she stops, I’ll stop too, I promise myself.
But after a moment, the vibrator turns back on. She lets out a series of moans and whimpers, louder this time than before. I take that as my cue to continue, and I pump my cock up and down, chest heaving.
I’m getting close, but I want to finish when Winnie does.
I stroke myself more softly, and try to hold myself back.
On the other side of the wall, Winnie lets out a curse and a sob, and then says, “Oh my God.” The vibrator gets louder, and I think about how fucking soaked she must be, how much of a mess she must be making.
“That’s right baby, soak my sheets for me. Make a mess on my bed. Give yourself exactly what you need,” I say, not giving a fuck if she hears me. I’m beyond reason or rationality right now. All I can see is her.
And then I hear her cry out, “Yes,” followed by a series of moans. She must be starting to come.
I pump myself hard now, letting the pleasure rise and crest within me. My vision goes white as I start to come, the orgasm sweeping through and consuming me. In the other room, I know that my wife is coming with me, and our moans blend together, filling the house.
I come down from the high and stand there panting. I just had one of the most intense orgasms of my life, and I wasn’t even with a woman. But just listening to Winnie had me more turned on than I’ve ever been. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
Maybe I need a cold shower. I tug my sweatpants back on and cautiously open the door.
I listen for Winnie but don’t hear anything.
She must be staying in bed. I sneak into the bathroom and turn the water on, setting the temperature as cold as I can.
The water hits me and I gasp, but I make myself stand under it, letting it soak through my hair.
After a few minutes I turn the water off and start toweling myself dry. I walk back into my room, and slide into the small bed, feeling a bit more clear headed.
But when I close my eyes, all I can see is Winnie.
And that night, her whimpers and moans, and the image of her spread out on my bed, fill my dreams.