My musings were interrupted by Rowan calling in to say she was done and was heading out. She handed me the keys and reminded me again that I really needed to get a real bike before heading out to her van and driving off. I closed the garage door and headed back inside, looking forward to seeing Jo tonight.
When Jo called to tell me she was coming, I headed out to the kitchen to prepare dinner. I loved cooking from scratch, learning how to cook from the many evenings spent with my mother in the kitchen preparing dinner for my family. After checking my supplies, I decided to make one of my favorites, Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe. Like my mother, whose parents came over from Italy before WWII, I preferred using tonnarelli, also called spaghetti alla chitarra, instead of the spaghetti you would typically find in the grocery store. It was square rather than round because it was cut from sheets instead of extruded. I loved its mouthfeel and texture in dishes with creamy sauces.
It was a simple dish to prepare, requiring only Pecorino Romano, ground black pepper, and some pasta water to make the sauce. I enjoyed cooking because some of my best thinking was done while working over the stove. As I gathered up the ingredients, I fondly remembered how Dad loved Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe and how Mom would ‘tsk’ over how he’d put additional pepper on his dish. My two older brothers would emulate him, making a contest out of how much pepper they could tolerate on their servings. Mom and I would just share a look and eat it as she prepared it, not wanting additional pepper to overwhelm the taste of the cheese in the sauce.
After cooking up the pasta, I worked on the sauce. I pulled a bottle of Trebbiano Spoletino out of my wine rack to go with dinner. I loved how the citrusy hints in this wine contrasted with the creamy texture of the sauce, enhancing the taste. I opened it to let it breathe as I finished fixing dinner.
With impeccable timing, I heard the doorbell just as I had finished saucing the pasta. I went to the door and opened it. A vision of beauty stood there, 5’9″ tall with blue eyes and blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail. “Hey, Ray,” Jo said as she stepped up and air-kissed me.
“Hello, Jo,” I said as I stood aside, let her go in, and followed after closing and locking the door. Jo was dressed like me, wearing jean shorts and a nice crop top that exposed her sculpted core. I admired Jo’s ass as I followed her into the dining room, enjoying how it moved as she walked. Jo had been a model with the Clyburn Agency for several years and was as intelligent as she was beautiful. For some reason, Jo had decided that I couldn’t get by without her help and became my business agent. I had to admit that having her take care of all the finances and legal details allowed me to spend more time and thought on helping people in trouble.
Jo turned to me, stepped up, and put her arms around my neck as mine went around her waist. Our lips met with a kiss that started chastely but quickly heated up as our mouths opened and our tongues plundered each other’s mouths. Jo’s taut body felt so good against mine as our breasts crushed together. I lost myself in the kiss until I ran out of oxygen and had to break the kiss or pass out. We both gasped as we tried to catch our breath, our foreheads touching as we stared into each other’s eyes.
“What’s for dinner?” Jo asked as we reluctantly separated.
“Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe,” I replied as we headed into the kitchen. I picked up the plates while Jo retrieved the bottle of wine. We re-entered the dining room, and I set the plates on the table while Jo poured the wine. I sat Jo before seating myself beside her, and we dug in.
I watched as Jo tried the pasta. Her look of approval, on top of her exclamation of “Oh, my God, Ray, this is delicious,” made the effort I took to fix it worthwhile. While we ate, we discussed current events, filling each other in on how our days had gone. We had both enjoyed the recent Wimbledon Women’s final, watching Martina Navratilova beating the new upstart, Steffi Graf, who had won the French Open earlier in the year. We both agreed that Steffi would be a force to reckon with in the future.
Dinner was quickly over, and the heat in my pussy was getting hotter as we ended up gazing into each other’s eyes. I could see the desire in Jo’s eyes reflecting my own passion, and I knew her pussy was probably as hot as mine. Without any words needed, we got up and headed to my bedroom. By the time we entered my bedroom, we were both practically sprinting in our hurry to get naked and in bed. Jo had already shed her crop top, exposing her breasts when I turned to face her as I removed my top, the rush from the fabric dragging over my stiff, aching nipples sending impulses zinging through my body. We both toed off our flats and bent as one to remove our shorts and panties.
When we stood up, we clenched, our bodies molding together as our lips met. I could feel Jo’s hard nipples poking the undersides of my breasts as mine were poking the tops of her breasts. Our tongues battled as we tried to become one, me trying to achieve the oneness I had only ever experienced with Steph so long ago. I angrily stifled that thought, wanting to enjoy this moment with Jo.
We eventually broke, gasping for air, as our foreheads touched and we gazed into each other’s eyes. I could feel the heat of Jo’s pussy against my thigh, burning me as I was sure my pussy was doing to her thigh. I guided us over to the bed, and we crawled onto it. I wanted to taste Jo, so I spread her legs and dove into her pussy, driving my tongue between her folds and gathering up her juices.
Jo put her elbows behind her knees, grabbing her ankles with her hands, spreading her legs wide to give me total access to her pussy. I snaked my arms around Jo’s thighs, grabbed her breasts, and started kneading them, making sure her hard nipples were firmly grasped between my thumbs and forefingers. Jo started moaning, “Oh, God, Ray,” over and over as I practically devoured her pussy, driving my tongue deep into her hole. Every time I hit a good spot, Jo would gasp, “Oh, yes, right there!” and I’d redouble my attack. Jo’s breathing got more and more ragged, and her thighs started trembling as I did everything I could to bring her to orgasm. Her hips were rolling and thrusting, but I managed to maintain contact as she ground her pussy against my face. Every time my nose bumped her clit, I’d pinch her nipples, and Jo would gasp, “Yes!”
I brought her to the edge and kept her there until she started begging, “Please, Ray!” As she got more and more desperate to come, her begging turned to pleading, and when I felt I’d kept her on the edge long enough, I pulled my tongue out of her slit and latched my lips on her clit. I began trilling her clit with my tongue, trying to tease her little button out of its hiding place. I could feel it stiffening, and when it finally poked out, I nipped it, simultaneously pinching her nipples. Jo screamed, “Oh, God, Raayyyy!!!!!” and came undone, spasming and thrusting her hips so violently, it nearly threw me off. Her legs had come crashing down on my back as her thighs snapped shut on my head before I could be thrown off.