Several weeks have passed since Cassie and Ben joined Jon and me for that memorable evening. Every day for that first week at work, whenever Cassie and I saw each other, I had to stifle a smile, while Cassie's beautiful face would instantly turn crimson. We still have lunch together every day, as we did before, but the increased closeness we share is palpable to us, and I think evident to anyone who even glances our way. We haven't had a repeat episode of lovemaking together, and I think it is quietly understood between us that we probably won't.
Since then, Jon has become an almost permanent fixture in my house, and I have become an almost permanent fixture on the end of his cock. We simply cannot keep our clothes on, or our hands off. He hasn't exactly moved in with me, but he is only on campus for class, volleyball games, and to pick up some clothes from his closet. I really need to start sewing some buttons back on his shirts. After all, he has bought me new bras and thongs to replace the ones that mysteriously have gone missing.
Last night, after having our way with one another, we lay naked together in the hammock in my patio garden. Jon told me the university is scheduled to host an educator's conference next week. As he lightly stroked my hair, he whispered to me, "I will be free from Thursday afternoon until Tuesday morning."
As I toyed with his cum coated shaft, I coyly offered, "What did you have in mind, kind sir?"
"Well," he replied, "I was wondering if you and I could spend the long weekend together. Sort of a mini-vacation. It would be like Spring Break, and I would be with the hottest girl in the school."
"Jon," I reminded him, "I would be the oldest girl in the school. Those two cheerleaders still snub me at your volleyball games. They call me 'Granny' behind your back. They must think I'm too old to hear them."
"Screw them, and anyone else who doesn't like it," he said. "How many times do I have to tell you that I love you, and that age doesn't matter to me? Remember, you're only 7 years older than I am anyway."
That was a surprise when he first told me. Despite his youthful appearance, Jon is actually a graduate student at the university. One evening, after a fairly athletic lovemaking session, I tearfully lamented on how his youth would eventually get the better of our relationship. While holding me in his strong arms he asked, "Just how old do you think I am?"
Between sobs, I managed to answer, "You're still in college. You can't be much more than 21."
After a long, deep kiss I wished could last forever, he placed a finger under my chin and brought my tear filled, emerald green eyes to meet his. "Shannon, darling," he said, "I'm actually in grad school at the university. I'm 28. You're 35. What's the big deal?"
I was flabbergasted. I literally couldn't speak. He laughed softly, as the realization came over me. Without a word, I pushed him on his back and straddled him. I kissed him hard, while my tongue played roughly with his. With my fingers entwined in his thick, dark hair, I brought his mouth to my left nipple. He grasped my tits in his hands, as I guided his now sturdy cock into my ever eager slit. I immediately began to vigorously ride his more than ample cock.
Ignoring his pleading to slow down, I quickened the pace and the force of my thrusts, as I mercilessly slammed him into my sopping wet cunt. When he realized I wouldn't stop, he grasped my hips and began to help me pound his hot, throbbing shaft between my legs. I felt his cock thicken inside me, as my own orgasm began to build. I drove his cock fully into me one last time and clamped down hard, as our orgasms simultaneously burst to life. I felt him quiver and buck as he pumped yet another load of cum into me. How I love to feel his hot cum shooting inside me, as a previous shot is forced out of my slot by his purposefully thrusting cock. I rode him until my legs hurt and he begged me to stop.
He told me he loved me for the first time that night - and every day and night since then. I have trouble voicing that sentiment, but I hoped he knew I felt the same. My thighs were once again slick with our combined cum as I slid off of him and cuddled into his arms.
"So, what do you think?" he asked, bringing me out of my reverie.
"I would love to get away with you for the weekend," I answered. "In fact, I know the perfect place. I'll take you to work with me." The look on his face was priceless.
"I was hoping you'd say that," he offered. "I was wondering when you'd take me."
Not everyone would consider going to work a vacation, but I work in a fairly unique environment. "Fuga" is an unusual resort. One half of the resort caters exclusively to the corporate world. They offer meeting space, conference and banquet facilities, and a state of the art business center. The other half is a member's only vacation spot that caters to its guests' every whim.
What makes "Fuga" really unique is that the member's half of the resort has several areas which are clothing optional. There are separate pool, patio, and exercise facilities for those members who just can't stand to wear their clothes. For those members who also prefer an intimate dining experience, private chefs are available to prepare and serve meals in the guest's suite. That's where I work. I'm a private chef.
The big corporation I used to work for held a conference there a few years ago. I happened to overhear one of our Vice-Presidents bragging about the private half of the resort to one of his colleagues. Innately curious, I wandered over to check it out. The owners were having an overly loud discussion in the lobby with one of their chefs, when he threw his hands in the air and stormed out of the building. The owners -- two sisters - wondered aloud where they were going to find another cook on such short notice. I don't know what made me speak up, but I offered to help. I kissed the corporate rat race goodbye and I have worked there ever since.
On Thursday afternoon, Jon and I packed some things and headed up to "Fuga". We were met in the lobby by Laura -- one of the owners. After introducing Jon and watching our bags disappear, Laura invited us for a drink in the bar.
"It's about time you brought him around, Shannon," she teased. "I was beginning to think you were making him up. Although that smile on your face always told me otherwise. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Jon."
"The pleasure is mine," Jon replied. "I want to thank you again for your kind hospitality. This place is beautiful."
"Thank you," came the reply from behind us. There stood Blythe, Laura's sister and the other owner of "Fuga". "No we are not twins. She's two years older," Blythe joked, as she noticed the contemplative look on Jon's face. "You must be Jon. Shannon talks about you all the time."
"I do not," I said, defensively.
"You do too," Cassie laughed from behind the bar. "Nice to see you again, Jon," she shyly said, as her face turned that now familiar, crimson hue.
"It's just that you look so similar," Jon confessed. "Shannon always told me you looked alike, but I never realized you looked that much alike."
"We're used to it by now," Laura sighed. "In fact we grew a little tired of it, so we got these." Laura and Blythe turned around and pulled up their shirts to reveal the tattoo designed on the small of their backs. Their different names were written in identical script and highlighted by intricate scrolls. "Keeps us honest when it comes to our husbands," she laughed.