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1.
Roman ran his hand along the dresser, up and over the elegant antique box, over last nights hastily discarded watches and jewellery all tangled together, and then around the weighty bottle of Number 5, smiling to himself at the stability of it all. Gerri had smelled the same for as long as he’d been old enough and close enough to consciously smell her, and the hint of it never failed to make his balls fizz. Carefully, he extracted her pearl pendant from his Rolex, and put the former back in its place, then he bent down to the cardboard box by his feet and collected a glossy watch box and one of the bottles of Creed he was currently cycling through, and fussed for a few moments arranging them next to Gerri’s Chanel until he was happy with the vignette.
Next, he opened a drawer and stared down into the blissful emptiness of it, grinning like a fool. It had taken him a month to get here, which he thought was excessive in the exact opposite direction that Gerri thought it was excessive. Apparently Roman’s usual move of installing the person you were almost-fucking into your place after a mere fortnight was a breach of some Miss Manners Boomer Bullshit. Hot.
Of course he could’ve had his own full closet at Gerri’s, and she’d even offered that, making him feel all warm and gooey in the heart and the pants, but what Roman really wanted was to be inside of Gerri’s space, the irony giving him most of a hard-on, so she’d agreed to clear out a drawer and some of her own closet so he could squeeze himself in around the edges of her, intermingling like poors. It was a wet dream come true. He’d even brought his things over himself.
“Did you plug in your toothbrush?”
He turned at the sound of his favourite voice, the hint of scold a delicious little green flag. She was leaning against the door frame, arms folded.
“Yes, Mommy. I mean, I’d say something suitably gross about oral if you weren’t already flirting so hard, Gerri. Look at you, pushing your tits up, you minx,” he smiled at her, and he could feel how soft and dopey his face must be, but he didn’t care - he’d finally made it inside - Her Good Dog.
Gerri stared back and tightened her grip on her elbows, squashing her breasts together a little more, heat in her gaze,
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Right, time for dinner - Fuck, I need a martini, and a bath.”
Roman slunk over to her cock first, and wrapped his arms around her waist, inhaling deeply,
“Can I cum in two of those? I want to be inside you, you know - you eat me.”
“And what, I spend the rest of the evening with you between my teeth? Absolutely not.”
She was frowning at him, but her mouth twitched, and he rubbed himself on her a little bit while he rolled his eyes,
“God, Gerri - That’s what your toothbrush is for,” and he closed the gap between their mouths, waiting for her to bite.
2.
It had been an awful day. She was relieved to be clean and comfortable, perched on the end of the bed with one leg curled underneath her, towelling off her hair, when she noticed him noticing,
“What is it now, Roman? I’m tired.”
He was casually draped sideways, head in his hand, but his face had undergone a series of expression changes, travelling through surprise, desire, and shame, and finally to nervousness.
His eyes darted away from her face to where his fingers plucked at the sheets,
“Soooo…there’s a hole?”
“What?” Gerri tilted her head and tried to get him to look at her again, utterly confused.
Roman met her gaze for just a second before his attention dropped to her crotch. Not an unusual occurrence, especially as they seemed to be working their way to him actually succeeding in that arena.
“In your pants,” he mumbled, and hunched his shoulders when he looked back up again, searching her face for something, “Ger, I can see inside.”
He pointed, and she looked down. On the inseam of her silk pyjamas, the ones she’d taken to Tern Haven, her thighs had rubbed a hole right up the top. Gerri shifted, and now felt the slight temperature difference that would have alerted her earlier if she weren’t so exhausted. Suddenly, that was the last straw in a long and shitty day, and her eyes prickled with frustrated tears as she turned away so Roman wouldn’t see,
“Oh,” her voice was thick, and she felt ridiculous, “These are my favourite pair.”
She should’ve known he wouldn’t be fooled, they’d essentially been living together for months now. Suddenly Roman was right there, his arms around her, coaxing her into a kiss. For a man who didn’t fuck, he was astoundingly physically affectionate,
“No, hey, Gerri - I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to upset you. It was just, I can see your… and I started thinking about how I want to…you know - with yours specifically, which is, but I don’t know if,” his face crumpled into a frown, and now they were both frustrated, “Fuck! I just wanted you to know it was hot I could see your labia and I was thinking about putting my penis in your vagina, okay?”
Gerri couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at the clinical terms, “Are we role-playing the gynaecologist office?”
Roman made a face, “Um, ew no. Or. Hot? Possibly? Let me check in with my twisted little dick and get back to you on that before you start buying vintage speculums off eBay.”
Gerri raised her eyebrows in some alarm, and Roman kept a straight face for a whole three seconds before she laughed. He kissed her cheek, satisfied with her shift in mood, and ran his fingers through her damp curls,
“Sorry about your peephole pyjamas, Ger-Bear. Or am I?” His hand travelled down her neck, following the collar of her top, then along the buttons, and headed straight for the exposed inch, “You know these are my favourite too, and I’ve always wanted to make you come in them like you made me come the first time I saw them.”
He pressed his hand between her legs, cupping over the hole, the warmth of his palm igniting her. Of course. Tern Haven. He hadn’t actually made her come yet without her verbal guidance and some electric assistance. Which was fine, but she knew the longer they were intimate the more it bothered him. He was still Roman, after all.
“Oh yeah?” Gerri turned her face into Roman’s and let her challenge brush against his lips, “You’re so selfish and pathetic you’ll be ejaculating in your own pants before I’m in any danger of climaxing in these.”
His eyes darkened with arousal, but a determined glint followed,
“Fuck you, come here,” he was on top of her in an instant, tongue in her mouth and hands all over.
Gerri reached for her buttons, the routine of their shared desires now well established, but Roman swatted her hands away,
“Keep those to yourself, this is below the waist business,” and he made his way down her body, positioning himself between her thighs, encouraging her to bend her knees and part for him.
She looked down, and found he was on his elbows and knees, up close to her crotch, mesmerised, but squinting in a way that along with her leg position really did remind her of a Pap smear. She bit her lip suppressing the laugh. Her pants had bunched up with their exertions, and the hole was right against her crotch. She could feel Roman’s breath on her, humid and teasing, slowly changing rhythm as his focus narrowed with his arousal,
“Yes,” he sounded like he was in pain, “Let me-”
He didn’t finish his sentence, just tipped forward and sealed his mouth over the hole in her pants, and then she felt his tongue slide, firm and broad, across the silk and her skin altogether. She gasped softly at the combination of muted and direct sensations, and felt the spark of his hunger ignite her own,
“What is this, Roman? Apart from useless?” she put on her best disapproval but didn’t bother to hide the lilt in her voice, and he moaned against her and kept licking in broad strokes, the silk between her legs growing wetter with each pass.
Gerri reached down and grabbed his head with both hands, pushing his face in harder, and felt his tongue poke through the hole in a desperate swirl, the tip just breaching her cunt enough to drive her mad,
“You want to be inside of me, is that it?”
“Mmmhnn” Roman groaned his affirmative, and resumed lapping but a little faster, the movement bringing his tongue to her clit,
“Fuck, stay. Stay there, Roman,” Gerri tightened her grip on his head, she would get there easily if he was consistent, “Don’t change a thing and I’ll come,”
His next moan was almost comically loud, but Gerri was swept up with the promise of his success and her orgasm,
“You’re doing it, Roman - for once in your life you’re - oh - good job, you’re going to-”
Suddenly his tongue was sloppy and aimless against her, the rhythm lost, and her climax retreated,
“Roman what the fuck are you doing?” she pushed at his head, trying to refocus him, and he drew back blinking at her through a haze, his mouth slack and his hand struggling in his sweats suddenly making sense of her denial.
She didn’t have to pretend she was annoyed,
“Don’t you touch yourself!”
He froze, and the stupefied expression on his face vanished as he looked from her frown down to his own lap and back with a panicked grunt, his eyes widening as he squeezed his cock desperately, but alas, she’d been too sharp,
“Sorry, Ge-” he didn’t finish that sentence either, but he did finish immediately in his own hand, face screwed up and gasping.
But she was feeling generous despite her bad day, so she waited for him to catch his breath before pushing his head back down.
3.
“Was Baird a good lay?”
“What?” Gerri’s voice in the dark, startled and wary.
She began to shift away a little, and Roman instinctively tightened his arm around her, drawing her back into their spooning, ignoring her annoyed huff,
“Simple enough question, Ger.”
“Go to sleep, Roman.”
“No. I wanna know. Did he rock your uptight little socks? Did he ring your bell? Did he penetrate you to a million blissful orgasms?”
“Roman,” she still sounded annoyed, but with a sheen of pity he knew he could press on until she caved,
“Come on, Gerri - I might never be able to stick my dick in you, I’d like to know you at least historically got the plowing you deserved.”
“Roman,” dismissive, “You’ve been there before, you’ll get there again. Tabitha? The one before?”
“It’s not about the mechanics, Gerri, you know that - I’m - I’m not scared of pussy, but I’m fucking scared of your pussy, okay? Once I’ve been inside you for real I honestly think I might actually die.”
“Roman, you’re not going to die from penetrating me,”
“Baird didn’t survive it,” it was out of his mouth before he could filter, Gerri instantly twisting out of his arms, and he sat up in a panic, “I’m fucking sorry Gerri I didn’t mean-”
The lamp on her side of the bed flashed on, revealing the extent of his damage in her angry, wounded expression,
“Laurie’s still alive and kicking,” she spat furiously, and Roman was horrified to see her eyes were tearing up.
“So you did fuck Laurie then? Wait - fuck, Jesus Christ I’m an asshole - look - the bullshit just flows out of me sometimes, you know that, you know - Gerri- sometimes you even like it?” he reached out to touch her hand, but she snatched it away.
“Perhaps you’d feel safer in the guest room,” she sniffed, “Wouldn’t want you to accidentally fall into my pussy in your sleep and die.”
“I didn’t mean like - oh fuck, let me explain, Gerri, please?”
She turned away, reached for her glasses and put them on, her composure slightly restored when she faced him once more, and Roman exhaled, sensing the shift could save him.
“You’d better be sufficiently illuminating, Roman.”
He held his hands up in surrender,
“I will, I will! Fucking, I’m going to be emotionally intimate, Gerri - can you handle that?”
“What?” She was taken aback.
“Look. You know I’ve been back at therapy,”
“Yes?” she was on full guard, but he persisted,
“Yes. And I’m going to therapy my way into your vagina as planned, I fucking promise, but I’ve been discussing your intimacy problems with Dr Freud too, and-”
“My problems? You talk about me? He’s not really called Freud, is he?” Her frown was more confusion than anger now.
“Gerri,” Roman reached for her hand again, and this time she didn’t pull away, “No. I’m fucking with you about his name - but of course I talk about you - you’re the most important person in my life, I love you, you love me, all the purple dinosaur shit, but! I’m not the only one in this bed with an intimacy problem.”
“I have fucked plenty of men, Roman,” Gerri began, a spiteful scowl on her face, and it was kind of hot but he had to push through that,
“Of course you have, and I’ll angry-cum about that later but there are other types of intimacy, Gerri, and you’ve got a problem letting me in.”
“I don’t know what you mean. You’re in my bed, in my house, we work together, you’re all over my life, Roman, there’s nowhere else to let you in.”
“Up here, for fucks sake,” but he smiled to show he was teasing, and wriggled his fingers at her temple, “You never tell me about the other Gerries, you know, the Before Roman Gerries.”
“The past is irrelevant.”
“Every Freud alive would disagree.”
Gerri sighed, but didn’t push him away when he leaned into her, “What exactly are you driving at with this comparison?”
“I’m saying we both fear giving everything in some way. At least that’s what zee goot doctor says.”
“I’m sure that’s offensive.”
“Probably. Stop deflecting, Geraldine. Look. I trust you enough that I want to bust in you, even if you end up killing me.”
“Flattering.”
“And you should trust me enough to tell me stories about your sexy, coked out youth when you were choking men out with your hairspray and your killer bitch instincts.”
“And instead of communicating this you asked me at midnight on a Monday if my deceased husband satisfied me sexually?”
“I mean. The therapy is ongoing?”
“Uhuh.”
Gerri shifted her weight, and Roman moved to brush his lips over hers, watching her face carefully for signs of forgiveness,
“I’m sorry.”
She sighed.
“I know. I get it. Next time you ask me about my past I’ll do my best to let you in, okay?”
“Deal. And I’m going to fuck you.” He kissed her more emphatically, and then lay back down, patting the space in front of him and reaching out with grabby hands.
Gerri rolled her eyes, removed her glasses, and switched off the lamp. The feeling of her backing her spectacular ass into his lap in the dark a moment later produced a contented noise from both of them. Roman slipped his hand into her pyjama top and cupped her breast,
“Hey Gerri,” he whispered right next to her ear, happily wrapped in the scent and warmth of her, “I’ve got a question about Baird.”
“Now, Roman?”
But he could hear the smile in her voice, so he gave her an appreciative squeeze,
“Yeah. How big was his dick?”
Her laughter was the second best thing in the world, after money.
4.
Exercise was not something Gerri had ever been particularly fond of, relying on coffee, nicotine, and adrenaline to keep her slim until she’d had her daughters, and then accepting the slow slide of alcohol and menopause as her body changed with the years, but she had always been concerned with staying limber to a degree, and when the yoga craze of the 90s hit she bought a mat and signed up for a class just like everybody else. The class had fallen by the wayside as soon as it conflicted with work, but she’d kept her mat, and a VHS, then a DVD, and now YouTube instructionals. She wasn’t any kind of expert, but she was grateful to be able to get up off the couch without a late middle aged grunt, and to be able to zip up her own dresses after Baird died and before Roman was around to give himself an erection doing it for her.
She’d expected him to laugh himself almost sick the first time he caught her spandex clad and stretching in her home office, but instead he’d simply nodded respectfully and left the room again. Of course he eventually asked if he could ‘watch’, and after negotiations they agreed to once a week, so he wasn’t actually impeding her activities. So once a week Gerri left underpants out of the exercise clothes equation, and allowed Roman to drive their exploits. Sometimes he fingered her to orgasm before she even got halfway through her routine, sometimes he joined her in the stretching and she jerked him off at the end, and sometimes he really did just watch, sitting at her desk and rubbing a slow circle in his lap to the rhythm of her breaths.
It was one of those latter times he surprised her. Gerri had almost forgotten he was in the room, he was so quiet, and she’d made it to the end of her routine, one last stretch and then she would invite him to jerk off on to her clothes while she meditated, as he seemed to be in a low key type of arousal. She got down on her knees and stretched her arms forward, hips to the sky, but as she bent over there was a tearing sound accompanied by a drastic change in airflow and the minor bounce of her buttocks losing their support. Her tights had ripped open substantially at the seam. She was about to laugh at the absurdity and turn to share it with Roman when there was a forceful choking noise from behind her. It was one she was not entirely unfamiliar with so she paused, listening for the tell-tale rhythms of masturbation, but instead there was a scrambling, and then Roman’s hot hands gripping her ass, kneading at the muscle, spreading her apart all over.
“Rome?” she carefully turned her head, and glimpsed him in her peripheral vision.
He was red faced and panting, his body practically vibrating with effort, looking like he’d just run a mile and his eyes were fixed on her exposed cunt, and he tugged her backwards just a little,
“Gerri,” he gasped, “I can do it?”
His chest was heaving so rapidly, she was worried about his oxygen levels. But she also knew exactly what he was asking, and said a silent prayer for her HRT as she answered,
“You can do it, Roman.”
And when he came inside her about 30 seconds later, Gerri couldn’t believe it when she was the one who started crying first.
5.
He was fucking her normo style, all cosy in their bed, when Gerri dropped her last little barrier - and if Roman hadn’t been so focused on coordinating the vibrator with his thrusts, he probably would’ve blown his load before her orgasm and ruined his current streak of jizzing to her praise rather than her disappointment. Not that he didn’t still enjoy both.
“Rome,” he loved how squeaky-breathy she got when his cock was in her, like he was fucking Betty Boop with bigger tits, even though he’d always been more of a Jessica Rabbit fan.
“Yeah?” he paused, but Gerri clenched her thighs around him, and he didn’t need a riding crop this time to get the message, angling the vibrator between them until a little moan escaped the back of her throat.
That would’ve been victory enough because Gerri hardly ever moaned, she was such an uptight, withholding bitch, and he was the number one beneficiary of that glorious fact, but then she held his face steady above hers, stared into his fucking soul, and unleashed a truly diabolical piece of intimacy,
“We should get married,” she whispered, then her eyes slammed shut with a second moan and she bit her bottom lip, eyebrows drawing together as she came.
“Fucking -what?!” Roman’s hips carried on even though his brain had slammed into a brick wall, and Gerri’s cunt was apparently milking what was left of his sanity out of him, and he shot off right after her, half collapsing on her from the shock.
They lay breathing hard for a few seconds, and then Gerri’s hand burrowed between them, switching off the vibrator and throwing it off the side of the bed instead of carefully returning it to its box after a thorough cleansing. And that was how he knew she might actually mean it.
“Gerri,” he turned to watch her face, “I might have cummed myself crazy, so can you just - did you just ask me to marry you?”
She turned to meet his gaze, and her eyes were sparkling with unadulterated evil. Jesus fuck he loved her so much he wanted to scream.
“I mean,” she shrugged underneath him, “If you still want to.”
1.
When the buzzer rang out Gerri was ready. She smoothed down her vintage Laura Ashley, noting with a smile that the buttons were a bit strained, and took her time walking to the intercom, then jabbed the keypad to allow 2-way video and sound, leaning forward enough to make sure her breasts filled the monitor,
“Well Roman, have you finished?”
A smug, pale face with large hazel eyes framed by long lashes blinked seductively at their private lobby camera, as Roman tossed his head back, flicking his bangs out of the way. He ran a hand through his hair and down the side of his sweaty neck, continuing along the modest neckline of his floral apron, and waved the feather duster in the air,
“Yes, Ms Kellman.”
Gerri folded her arms. Roman’s eyes grew heavy, started losing focus.
“Did you polish all the handles?”
He was too busy staring at her chest. That was his first mistake. His lips parted, and the hint of a smirk played over his face, and that was his second,
“There’s one handle only you can polish, Ger-bear.”
“Ms Kellman!” she snapped.
“Uhuh,” he waved his hand dismissively, “So cleaning things is boring.”
“Roman, may I remind you that you begged for this?”
“And?” He slouched against the wall and pouted, eyes still glued to her breasts, “Let me up and I’ll fuck you so medium to good, you’ll marry me a second time.”
“I begin to regret the first,” she rolled her eyes, but toyed with the top button on her dress, and Roman groaned.
“Seriously, Ger - I’ve been bumping my prick against the walls for the last 15 minutes, if I don’t come in you soon I might actually damage myself.”
Gerri scoffed, “You’re rapidly talking yourself out of the privilege, Roman.”
“Privilege?!” He leaned too close to the camera, “I’m your husband, Geraldine - I’ve got connubial rights or whatever?”
“You’ve got nothing,” she replied, and undid two buttons, watched the effect on him as his hand moved to the bulge in his apron.
“Yes. Yeah, Gerri - show me more?” Like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
He was still so easy, even now he’d had everything.
“Did you clean all of it?” She began working on a third button.
“Most of it,” he was smacking his lips together, anticipating more of her being revealed.
And that was his third mistake.
“Most?” She started doing up the buttons she’d already opened, and Roman’s mouth dropped open in aggrieved horror,
“What?! Gerri, no, come on, you didn’t really expect me to do all of it for real, did you? Let me up now,” he was ducking around all over the place, as though he had a hope of still seeing her breasts on the screen if he just got the angle correct.
“You didn’t expect me to undo all of them, did you? You can wait,” Gerri switched the sound off before his complaints could reach her, and mimed being unable to hear, cupping a hand around her ear and shrugging.
His sputtering was perfect, she knew his cock would be straining with her denial. She pulled out her phone and set a timer for 4 minutes, then held it up to the camera.
Roman mouthed something undoubtedly offensive and held up 3 fingers.
Typical. He thought everything was a negotiation. Gerri changed the timer to 5 minutes and showed the camera again.
A lot of hand waving, and gesturing to his crotch, and then palms pressed together, and he held up 4 fingers with an erotically pathetic look on his face that sent a spike of pleasure and power through her.
Gerri flicked the timer to 6 minutes and showed him.
Roman’s eyebrows practically flew off his head, and she didn’t need to be a lip reader to know he was now saying, “Really?” over and over, pacing up and down in front of the camera shaking his head, his erection a humorous counterpoint.
She watched him carefully, she didn’t want to actually upset him. But then she saw the corner of Roman’s mouth twitch up, and he turned back to the camera with a glint in his eye.
Gerri held her phone up in anticipation, and when Roman grinned and extended his middle finger, jabbing it up towards her, she smiled back, and scrolled the dial to 7 minutes.
***