Bad Girls, Good Times update (Patreon)

The good times couldn’t last. First, there was Izzy coming back, which put a bit of a damper on the naked times. Nancy didn’t think of herself as much of a freak, but she suddenly missed the newlywed feeling of walking around nude, offering herself to Patrick and being taken by him whenever the mood struck either of them. Which it often did, with him wearing as little clothes as she did.

Nancy was more than happy to keep their bedroom activities confined to the bedroom, in the evening, when Izzy didn’t have to be a straight-A student to know she should text when she needed something and be patient waiting for an answer. Then work took its toll.

As if her being Robbery-Homicide in a city where everyone seemed to be getting robbed and murdered all the time wasn’t bad enough, Patrick was district attorney. Not just district attorney, but running for reelection.

There inevitably came times when the house was deserted and the emptiness was unbearable; Nancy constantly thinking of what they could be filling the space with if only Patrick were there. She was sure he felt the same way when she was working late and he had the house to himself.

What really bewildered her was how much time they’d both wasted, spending evenings together but apart, both of them just doing their duty. Nancy wouldn’t go back to that for anything, but now that they’d reconciled, how it stung to think of all the missed opportunity.

Thankfully, even with Izzy going into self-imposed exile and Patrick only able to steal moments at a time with her, she still had Syd. Much as she hated to kiss and tell, especially with someone who was proudly a ho like Syd, she knew after another night alone that she had to talk to someone before she climbed the walls.

“So you and Patrick are back on, dry spell over, great sex, kid’s still good, the house makes me honestly hate you—this is your car too, by the way, nice of your brother to give it to you—and your complaint is that although you’re getting your brains fucked out pretty regularly by your big-dicked husband, you can’t help but think about all the fucked-out-brains you missed out on over the past few months? That’s what you’re saying?”

That stung too, but at least it put an end to Nancy feeling restless. She supposed getting it out in the open—especially with someone who had as little patience for fools as Syd—served to get Nancy out of her own head and back to reality.

But goddamn, yes, she did hate that she’d missed out on some quality dick.

“I’m a good Catholic girl,” Nancy reasoned. “I’m regretting that I wasn’t a better wife to my beloved husband.”

“I thought we all agreed the problem was on his end,” Syd said, pumping the gear shift to another level. “What’d you do wrong, not offer to make shit up to him by baking cookies in your underwear? C’mon, Nanc, he’d never respect you again!”

“Or sex and baked goods wouldn’t work to fix the issues we had.”

“He had,” Syd corrected.

“Emphasis on the past-tense.”

“Yeah, at least now you’re getting some.”

Nancy scowled. “This isn’t all about sex… it’s mostly not about sex…” she added after a moment.

“So what if it is? You shouldn’t deprive yourself, babe. What’s a marriage except saying ‘this is the guy I want to rail me until I die’?”

“Having kids,” Nancy retorted instantly.

“Oh. Oh. I get it. That mommy clock’s all wound up and ticking…”

“No! Maybe!” Nancy corrected herself. “What would be so wrong with that?”

“Well, nothing. Except from my point of view. I’d be stuck breaking in a new partner while you’d be stuck behind a desk, getting pumped by Big Dick DA every evening… you and your big mommy milkers.”

“You’re talking me into this, y’know.”

“Sure you don’t want to give the other side of the street a try before you let him put that babymaker to use?” Syd gave Nancy a suggestive smile that left her blushing. “There’s only so much I can hear about how Patrick gets you off before wanting a shot at the title.”

“Nah, I’d hate what it would do to the friendship if Patrick ended up making me come harder,” Nancy said lightly.

“So I can only tap that if I really make you squirt. Like, eating corn on the cob squirt…”

Nancy’s face soured like she’d bit into a lemon. “You need to get off the bisexual kick. You are getting the nasty from both sexes and it’s showing.”

“What, you’ve never been eating corn and…”

Nancy looked at the road. “How long have we been driving? Shouldn’t we be there by now?”

“It’s LA. We’ll be lucky if we make it before Christmas.”

“Are you sure you’re going the right way?”

“Nanc, I know you’re feeling all domestic and shit with Patrick creaming you on the regular—“

“Creaming me?” Nancy repeated dubiously.

“—but there’s no way we’re talking about traffic when we’ve got that good dick to talk about. Come on, spill. Tell me all about how great married life is.”

“Oh, you know…” Nancy laughed. “It takes a lot of man to keep up with a girl like me. And I think Patrick might’ve gotten a lot of ideas during our break. He’s been trying a lot of new things. Honestly, the way things are going, I’m shocked I only have one stepkid.”

“You think he watched porn while you weren’t giving it up?” Syd wondered aloud.

“No!”

“Guys gotta get it from somewhere. If it’s not their secretary, it’s Pornhub.”

“I’ve dated guys who’ve gotten all their moves from porn. Trust me, that’s not Patrick.”

“More of a Bridgerton guy?”

“All I know is, it’s been heaven.”

“Better than picking up some hot young thing at der klubb for sex on tap, casual, whenever you want it?”

“Like you do?” Nancy asked. “C’mon. How often does that really pan out? Because with Patrick, I know I’m getting a performance every time.”

“I’ll admit, sometimes my instincts mislead me and I get stuck with someone who’s all show, no go. But there’s never a misfire with you?”

“Look at me, Syd.” Nancy slid a flourishing hand between her cleavage. “Patrick does not lack for motivation.”

“Okay then, what about boredom? Even pizza gets old if you eat it every day of the week.”

“Like I said, Patrick’s creativity knows no bounds. If he loses the election, I’m gonna try to get him to write a romance novel. One of the real slutty ones.”

“The ones about a rake?” Nancy tossed her hair. “You almost make me wish I was married to him. You think if I got a steady boyfriend, we could cross-examine?”

“See, this is why it wouldn’t work out between you and Patrick, you’d make the lawyer jokes all the time.”

“The only lawyer joke I know is that you married one and somehow you’re not getting screwed enough.”

“Oh, I’m getting pizza every night. It’s just now I’m wishing I could have it breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“You try reheating the leftovers first thing in the morning?”

“Best part of waking up beside someone. You should try it sometime.”

“Only if you try meaningless, anonymous sex.”

“Patrick wore a mask once.”

“If he went full ski mask, Imma steal him.”

“Domino mask.”

“That’s your problem, Nanc, you’re so suburban these days.”

***

The bad times—or at least the lacking times—couldn’t last either. When Nancy woke up the next day, it was with the thought that neither of them would have to call in sick if they wanted their morning sex to become afternoon delight. It was Saturday. She was off the rotation and Patrick was taking a well-deserved day off as well. And Izzy was spending the day with Nico, getting to know her new uncle.

Nancy opened her sleepy eyes and looked at Patrick. It was still too early for him. As much as she appreciated his physique, his drive, his energy, and his total determination to satisfy her, he wasn’t a kid anymore. He might be able to fuck all night, but he was in no shape to go to a Green Day concern after.

With a smile of laziness, Nancy snuggled into his side and shut her eyes for more rest.

Without a doubt, this had been the best month of her marriage. The sex, the togetherness. Even when they were newlyweds, there’d been reservations, a sensitivity towards the death of Patrick’s first wife and the awkwardness of becoming Izzy’s mom.

Now, the storm they’d weathered seemed to have made them stronger. All the tension was gone from their marriage. It was as if they were on a second honeymoon. Nancy couldn’t even regret that they had to steal time together. It was enough. It was more than enough. The knowledge of how tired she was proved it.

The orgy of the night before had gone on and on. Patrick had proved her match when it came to delivering on her desires and showcasing urges of his own. As much as she might cluck her tongue at Syd’s shenanigans, she really did hope that her partner’s lifestyle delivered on sex this good.

The thought of Syd made Nancy frown, though. Somehow, she felt guilty, having such a good relationship when Syd was bereft. It was almost like she’d cheated on her by satisfying Patrick so thoroughly, getting fucked so hard herself.

Why did it weigh on her so heavily, this desire for Syd to enjoy herself as much as she was? Nancy let go of Patrick to bury herself in her pillow. Her whirling emotions were confusing to her. But what was she supposed to do? Find one of Patrick’s cousins for Syd? Get a strap-on and show her partner all Patrick had taught her about what sated a woman?

She went back to sleep on that thought. The alarm clock going off sounded much louder than it really was. Nancy scrambled to shut the annoying noise off, but couldn’t reach it. She opened her eyes to see Patrick was holding it out of reach. He was dressed only in swim trunks.

“I’m pressing the snooze button,” he smiled at her. “But if you want it off for good, you have to get out of bed.”

“I’m sleeping in,” Nancy mumbled, pulling a pillow over her head. “It’s my day off.”

“You’ve been sleeping in for the past three hours. You’re going to totally wreck your sleep cycle if you stay in bed any longer.”

“That’s what coffee’s for,” Nancy moaned, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Groaning, she worked her naked body out of bed and snapped some of the knots out of her limbs and back. “You know we only went to sleep when you were finished, right?”

“Tantric sex. Blame Sting.” Patrick shut the alarm off and dropped it back onto the nightstand. “C’mon. Got the perfect thing for a lazy morning. Dip in the pool. Just right to wake you up. Grab your bikini and let’s go.”

Nancy yawned. “I stumble out of bed naked and you immediately want to slap some clothes on me. Guess that’s how I can tell I’m not a morning person.”

“Can you guess how much I care?”

Nancy looked at him a moment, surprised by the barbed words, then realized his meaning. His erection was standing straight out from his trunks like a circus tent. She broke into a wide grin.

“All right, Mister District Attorney,” she said with mock irritation. “You win. Mind if I brush my teeth and pick out a bikini that actually fits? I haven’t gone swimming in a while.”

“I know, me neither. Waste of a perfectly good pool.”

“And some perfectly good swimwear,” Nancy added. She felt like a girl going on a first date. It was exciting.

“Want me to help you find a bikini?” Patrick asked with a smile. “Bet we can’t find one that doesn’t fit, Abs of Steel.”

Nancy gently shoved against his broad chest. “I would, but now you’ve really sold me on the pool. And we might never make it if I started modeling swimsuits for you.”

“Come to think of it, we should probably drain the pool, given how the drought’s going.”

“You wait here. If we’re putting the pool out of commission, it’s going in style.” Nancy’s hair bopped as she left him, going to find something that she wouldn’t in a million years let Izzy know she owned.

It didn’t take her long to reappear.

“Jesus!” Patrick breathed appreciatively, seeing her bikini. “Why’d you even bother to put that on? You might as well be skinny-dipping. Which gives me an idea…”

He reached playfully for her tiny top. Nancy danced back from his hand.

“What would the neighbors think?” she squealed teasingly, nonetheless looking around the tall fences surrounding the property.

“What, the two multimillionaires who only show up here two months out of the year?” It was clear from Patrick’s tone that he didn’t mind the isolation.

Neither did Nancy. Even in her bikini, she was pretty much giving a lapdance to anyone that looked at her. A thong slid between her pert buttocks, barely becoming a triangle enough to cover her pubic hair. The top was a string in back, straps over the shoulders, then two swaths of fabric that cradled her breasts, giving them the modicum of support their heft needed, otherwise merely outlining their supple perfection. And the rest of her, naturally, was naked—pristine, creamy skin that very nearly overwhelmed the eye, even with her most luscious places covered.

Covered, but hardly hidden.