Sweet Dreams Are Made Of TheseChapter 3: March - "Between The Bars" free porn video
There are moments so uncomfortable that you wish you could be anywhere else, like being face to face with someone calling you an asshole, or a post-sex confrontation with your girlfriend's shrieking sister. An invitation to meet your sweetie's father shouldn't be one of those, of course, but when her daddy just happens to be locked up in a prison with a reputation for its inmates, just what is the right response? Staring at you with eyes that practically weep conflicting emotions, lower lip trembling slightly as she nibbles at it in anxiety, he's probably looking for a decisive response, and 'Can I change my mind?' just isn't 'Oh, hell no?" Sure. Depends on whether you want to keep your teeth.
Answering, "Okay, when do you want to go?" was Jahn's only real option, of course. Slower and less reassuring than he'd intended it to be, but relief flooded Jenny's face as soon as the words left his mouth. Visibly relaxing, his girlfriend moved forward to hug him tightly.
"I know you're probably thinking he must be awful," she said softly, as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "What he did was really bad, unforgivable even, but he's still my daddy, and he always tried to do right by me. I love him, even though maybe I shouldn't." Something left unsaid there, but the intuitive grasp was cut short when she continued, "He killed a guy in a fight way back. I was too young to get any details at the time, and I haven't asked since. I just know it was ugly."
Jahn patted her shoulder awkwardly as she went on, but she pulled back to look up at him. "Also, you need to know – he's racist. Not like the watered down stuff you hear about on the news, but like out of the old days." Sheets and slurs and crosses a'burn, he thought. Likely not KKK around here but there were plenty of supremacist organizations to catering that party. Fuck. Jahn had a long history of antagonizing bigots online; he'd have to moderate his instinct for smart-ass remarks.
"It's hard for people to deal with. I understand if you don't want to come."
Of course Jenny understood, but it was also clear in her eyes that she really wanted him with her, to have Daddy meet her boyfriend, see that his little girl was doing well for herself with someone he would approve of. Whatever history Mel Donovan possessed, his daughter kept her eyes firmly to the future. Jahn didn't like the connotations of Donovan's approval, but he was aware he possessed qualities the man would appreciate – hard work and a determination to succeed in a society where people didn't always. And white. Devotion to Jenny. And white.
It kept coming back to that. Snide comments also kept associating themselves with his thoughts, but he knew that if he was gonna go, he'd have to focus. Because fuck, he'd be better off simply not bothering, than insulting her father in front of her, prison guards, and all creation. Jahn wanted to hedge, but instead said, "Don't worry about it, Jen, I'll come along."
She nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder again. "We can go Saturday, long as you don't have anything else going on." Of course he didn't. Jenny ... and later, Fiona ... had fully owned his weekends for nearly the full two previous months.
"We're going down to see Jenny's father tomorrow morning." Jahn didn't understand the dynamic that existed between the two girls and their respective fathers. Uncomfortable was putting the response to Fiona's question about his plans for Saturday mildly, and the anxiety was apparently visible on his face.
Fiona studied her hands, expression inscrutable. "You don't need to tread lightly around the subject. I'm well aware what Mr. Donovan is like, and I don't think any less of Jenny for going to see him. I'd do the same, in her place, I think. Mom wasn't with my father very long after she found out that he was a hopeless alcoholic, and even though she tried to be nice about it, she told me once that it was a wonder he wasn't the cause of the crash that killed him. Our parents are what they are, we can't change them."
"So what are your plans for the day?"
"Our threshold choir will be singing at the Corazon Retirement Home tomorrow. Several of the residents have asked us for our consideration, and that'll take us the better part of the day."
"Threshold choir, eh?" he murmured in curiosity to Fiona, as he dabbed spaghetti sauce from the side of his mouth. His ... girlfriend ... the idea of having two girlfriends still jarred him disconcertingly ... nodded, going on explain how she and this odd singing group she'd joined years ago would sing for the dying, those in hospice care, or other stages of illness that left them bed-ridden. All of it was an event that was sometimes as much for the family, as for the patient. A concept that he had never heard of before, and one that seemed strangely ... holy ... though he knew neither of the girls were practicing members of any religion.
A choice of hobby that seemed exceptionally fitting: the brunette had a lovely voice, low and rich –mellifluous, that was the word-, flowing like honey whenever she spoke about something she was familiar or comfortable with. "That's incredibly cool that you're able to do that for people who need it the most." She flushed in pleasure with the compliment, a dusky rose shade that deepened when he continued, "Any chance you might sing for me?"
"Maybe some other time? It's kind of awkward, singing by myself."
Jahn waved a hand dismissively. "No big deal. Maybe I could come with you sometime, and watch your group sing?"
A delicate hand twitched across the tablecloth. "I ... don't think so. Respecting the family's privacy is an issue, and spectators are discouraged." After a moment of consideration, she suggested, "Perhaps you could sing with us?"
Jahn laughed uncomfortably, matching her blush with one of his own. "It's been a long time since high school choir, and I doubt I have anything like your talent." This praise earned him a dazzling smile.
"Talent is appreciated, but not required. We don't have to be superstars, just provide people with compassion and a measure of serenity."
"I'll work myself up to it sometime," he promised. "Not soon, though. Stage shy, really." She eyed him speculatively, but didn't say anything to that. He wondered what she was thinking about that, if she was considering the fact that when he'd been with Andrea, he'd always been at a kind of center stage in any social situation, something he'd never been comfortable with. That was where he'd met Fiona the first time, he was sure, some company Christmas party. Long ago, and not something he wanted to embarrass himself asking about so late in the game.
"We've got the house to ourselves tonight," Fiona said, cheeks still pink. "I didn't really have much planned for the evening. Maybe we could watch a movie or ... something?" She wasn't being coy; the brunette was just shy on the subject of sex, even though she obviously enjoyed it a great deal. To date, he'd only had her twice, that first time and maybe a week later when she'd gotten tipsy and loosened up a bit on one of their dates. Most of that was probably due to Jenny, who devoured his time and occasionally himself with a voracious and seemingly endless appetite.
Attention of a less physical kind from Fiona never seemed to waver either, and the two-sided siege was exceptionally soothing, providing a sense that there was always someone waiting for him no matter which way he turned. Another person might have found that cloying. Not Jahn.
He loved the scent of the light perfume Fiona wore while they lay together on the couch, the intimacy of just being with her there, head resting on his chest, some tune he didn't recognize humming very quietly from her lips. Jenny thrilled him with her ever-present sense of adventure and good humor, a little blonde bombshell waiting to go off or get off, wherever the mood took them. She was white hot fire that seemed to sing with life, a constant spark in her eyes, simmering laughter on cherry red lips.
Images flickered on the screen, but he didn't feel a drive to make sense of them, instead enjoying the peace and heady sense of companionship as he massaged the crook of Fiona's neck. Hands straying down to his midriff, his girlfriend's long slender fingers found the buckle of his belt, and slid lower to his groin. Erotic, that deft and teasing touch, but Jahn wasn't reacting where it counted most, and sighed inwardly for it.
His stamina seemed to be improving, but a sexual Olympian he was not, and the time with both women had been taking a toll. Displeased, he shifted his attention from himself to her, lowering his hand from her shoulder to her waist, gently tracing a labyrinth of lines and circles upon her body. Fiona sighed softly as she nestled against him.
Exploration of her firm little waist had been entirely been without skin contact, a gentle press upon the silky material of her blouse. A few surreptitious tugs upon the tails of the material remedied that lack of access, and he slipped his hand beneath, making skin-to-skin contact, his hand upon her flesh, repeating the ministrations he'd given her before. Fiona's body arched against him as she was distracted by his touch, her own reciprocation not getting much response. He was fast resigning himself to this night being one-sided, but for some reason that didn't seem so bad. Her body was responding to every touch, and there seemed to be a bright sense of getting something back on an entirely mental level, the physical be damned.
Despite her movement to accommodate him, his attempt to slide his hand into her skirt stalled by the form-fitting denim. Attractive skirt on her, showing off her slim hips and tight bottom to devastating effect, but it also clung to her body in a way that frustrated his efforts. He desperately attempted to recall how this one fastened. Realizing his difficulty she clasped his hand, her own guided his to the buttons, allowing him to manipulate and work them open. Obstacle removed from the path of his fingers, Jahn refocused on the original goal, smoothly slipping his hand between the sheer fabric of her panties and her skin.
Finding the familiar patch of hair, he slid his hand deeper, seeking her moist and swollen lips, and then reverted back along the groove to find her equally aroused clitoris. A sudden jerk of her body against his own proved success, and he began to manipulate the button of flesh. There was something inherently exciting about her murmurs of pleasure as she squirmed beneath him, even though his own body still showed not the slightest hint of physical reaction where it mattered. Imagining himself plucking the strings of a harp, then tapping a light beat on a drum, and then ... simply letting his fingers play upon the hidden flesh, Jahn teased her through a series of orgasms, taking what might have seemed under other circumstances a perverse delight in her breathless gasps and moans.
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