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I know that we never left that entry hallway, and that we must have spent almost the entire time coupled. We both had repeated orgasms. Gaby's seemed almost continuous. I never lost that intense erection, not even after coming. We did not sleep. We weren't making love, we were fucking, coupling like the pre-human animals we had become, driven by instinct and need rather than desire.What brought me to my senses was an urgent need to urinate. My erection had prevented that. I tried to get up and realized that Gaby was lying across my torso, one arm holding my leg, her mound pressed against my hip. She was awake, breathing normally, but when I stirred she gave a wordless protest and held me tighter.I gently took her shoulders and brought her up beside me. Her top was still around her shoulders, but those firm little breasts had long since come free; her ruined panties were still around her left leg. She threw her arms around my neck and slung that panty-bound leg across me. My erection. See what a good dad I am?I drove on home. Took my beer and put it in the refrigerator I had in my den, that’s my hunting lodge above the garage. I opened one up and started to stare at my deer heads and my bear skin rug.Of course I was brokenhearted. I was pissed too. I covered all the emotions I guess a man normally covers in situations like this. Was she getting ready to leave me? Damn that was a real possibility if Marge was right about the home office thing. Was I good enough for her in bed? Well damn, I knew I was better than good. She was as lame as a piece of particle board. Gosh, I thought if old Gary Weaver was toasting marshmallows over her pussy he’d need a can of sterno to get the job done. I just couldn’t imagine any man, even if they got into little Greta’s pants a first time, I couldn’t imagine them going back for seconds. I mean hot she wasn’t, not in the sack.I wondered did she love me? That was a no brainer, if she loved me she wouldn’t be out with Brad Pitt right.
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