Sunday Morning 11Am

HE LAY WITH his eyes closed and took inventory. He didn't feel too bad considering; a mild headache which could go either way when he grew brave enough to open his eyes. Thank God it was Sunday and he could enjoy the hangover if it kicked in.

He lay on his side facing away from her, facing the window. He opened his eyes and blinked at the corona around the blind. He had no idea of the hour since daylight broke early at this time of year. He blinked again several times but the bleary haze persisted. He was pleased to note that the headache kept its voice down though.

'How do you feel?'

He sighed and rolled onto his back and turned his head to look at her. 'How did you know I was awake?'

She smiled: 'Just a feeling,' and she reached across, her hand and arm appearing from under the lip of the duvet. 'How do you feel?' she repeated as she draped her arm across his body.

'Yeah ... not too bad. Bit of a headache. You?'

'Probably the same as you. I'm manageable. I'll live.'

He rolled further over onto his side and faced her square on. She moved her arm to accommodate him and then gave a squeeze.

'What time is it do you think?' he asked.

'Not a clue. Does it matter?'

'I suppose not,' he shrugged, 'but I do know one thing ...'

'What's that?'

'I gotta pee.'

She laughed at that and pushed at him gently. 'Thanks for that.'

He rolled again and lifted the cover before sitting upright. She giggled at his ginger movements. He looked at her and felt a bubble of affection swell in his chest. She looked so lovely to him lying there in their bed. He took in the messed up blonde hair and remnants of smudged make-up. 'You ballsed up the make-up removal, babe,' he grinned and made circular gestures with his forefinger around his face.

'It was gone five in the morning when we got in, she remarked only slightly indignant. 'Now fuck off and go for a piss.'

'Such a lady,' he retorted with a laugh.

He stood in front of the ceramic and thought about his wife as the stream of urine splashed into the bowl. He remembered her elegance of the night before and how she'd looked in that dress. The stream dried and he washed his hands as the first glimmer of arousal spiked. He returned to the bedroom and, naked, leaned against the jamb. He studied her for a few moments before she realised he was there. Her eyes were closed; she looked so peaceful.

'What are you doing you weirdo?' she smiled at him, comfortable in their casual, affectionate insults. It was just their way.

'Just looking.' He stood there, leaning against the wooden frame, arms folded, ankles crossed and with the toes of one foot resting on the carpet. 'I love you, you know.'

A long pause before she broke the seriousness. 'If you really loved me,' she pouted, 'you'd go and make me a bacon sandwich ... I'm starving.' He laughed then and reached for his dressing gown that was hanging from the door. 'And a nice cup of tea ...' he heard her call as he went downstairs towards the kitchen.

He filled the kettle with water after putting the bacon on to grill. The aroma soon wafted around the room and his mouth watered with anticipation. Soon after he was climbing the stairs with a plate in one hand a mug in the other.

The sandwich went uneaten and the tea cooled untouched, for when he entered the bedroom he saw his wife sprawled on the bed, covers askew, eyes closed and mouth agape while her right hand moved in slow circles between her legs.

'I can't help it,' she murmured when she opened her eyes and saw him standing there. 'I just came over all ... all ...' Then she closed her eyes again as her body tensed and she groaned.

The arousal spiked again, more urgent than before, and his penis twitched and thickened under his dressing gown. He put the plate and mug down on the landing carpet behind him and then watched her. She opened her eyes again and stared back at him while she continued to masturbate. His cock stiffened quickly and was soon at full-blooded erection while his wife's heavy-lidded stare held his eyes. He saw the circles around her nipples contract and darken while the teats grew long and thick. She massaged first one breast and then the other and all the wile kept up her slow, lazy movements against her sex.

She held a hand out towards him in silent appeal and, shrugging off the robe, he went to her. Their fingertips touched and then their fingers entwined and he stooped over her to kiss her mouth. When he rose from her, the woman released his hand and with it, held her labia apart. She slid first one and then another finger into the centre of herself and groaned with the pleasure as she pushed them deep. Then, with devilment sparkling in her eyes she held the fingers to him.

'You filthy whore,' he murmured, but still took her fingers into his mouth. He made a show of licking each digit, moaning as he did so.

His wife smiled and opened her legs wider. 'Taste me,' she murmured. 'Come here and lick me.'

He climbed onto the bed and knelt on it with his knees between her legs. He looked at her sex; her mons nearly smooth save for the strip of pubic hair at the apex of her cleft. Her labia pouted loose and engorged and he growled in appreciation already positioning himself before her. He pressed his mouth to her body and was rewarded by a deep groan.

'Fuck ...' she panted as he worked on her. 'That's ... Oh ... God ... Don't stop, please ... Don't ever stop.' Her hands forced his face tighter against her body and her fingertips dug into his scalp. Without lifting his mouth or pausing he groped for his wife's hands and, when he found them, held her captive, palm to palm with their fingers intertwined; her hands locked with his. She wriggled and writhed while her husband tongued at her and she struggled in vain to break his grip. Eventually she gave a great groan and pushed herself against his face as her climax bubbled. 'You ... You glorious bastard,' she sighed. 'I'm ...'

He released her hands and pushed her legs wider apart, at the same time hooking her under the knees and pushing them towards her chest. He renewed his assault from this new angle and in so doing, heard his wife's vocal appreciation as she came.

He stopped suddenly while she was still lost in the throes of her climax. His cock, which had wilted, grew suddenly erect, and he took it in his fist and gave several slow strokes. His wife's eyes opened and she looked at him while she took great gulps of air. He saw the lust and desire in her expression and felt an arterial burst of the same emotions surge through him.

'Kiss me,' she groaned. 'Kiss me ... I want to taste myself.'

Ignoring her messy, unkempt appearance and the sour residue of the previous evening – a sullied state he found perversely arousing – he clambered towards her and they kissed. Still locked together she reached between their bodies and took his member in her hand. She wriggled into a position to accommodate him and then pulled him to her body. Then, continuing the kiss, he slid his entire length into her, groaning into her open mouth as their tongues slid and coiled in a serpentine dance.

They rocked together, her hands moving up and down and over his back as the heat of the day outside sheened their bodies in a film of perspiration. The sounds of their lovemaking grew ever more sordid as their bodies slid and slithered together. She panted and groaned while her hair matted with sweat and mascara tears dribbled down over her cheeks. With a vigorous, athletic shove and a grunt of exertion the woman somehow rolled her husband over onto his back and, still keeping him inside, lifted herself into position to ride him.

'Squeeze my tits,' she exhorted and began to rock back and forth above him. 'Come on, get rough with me.'

He looked up at her as her long hair fell in lank rats' tails over her face. Her soiled appearance spurred him; his wife had the appearance of some gutter whore and, to his surprise, he loved it. He reached up and covered her breasts with his hands. He could feel the hard nipples against his palms and was overwhelmed with the urge to suck them. He let go of his wife's body and heaved his torso off the sodden bed. He managed to take one teat into his mouth and sucked on it before licking around and around the areola. He managed the same feat with its twin before his body gave way and he fell back against the mattress.

Next, his wife placed her hands palm down on his chest and she raised herself so she could place the soles of her feet on the bed. Then, crouched over him like this, she began a slow slide up and down, up and down, up ... and ... down.

From his supine and helpless position he could clearly see his wife's labia clinging to his girth as she rose on the upward stroke. There was a tide-mark of her arousal that was beginning to foam as the vigour and intensity of her motion increased. 'Shit,' he grunted through clenched teeth. 'You feel ... You look so ... so ... so fucking beautiful, babe. Jesus ...'

'And you feel so thick inside me,' she returned. 'I love it. I love the way you fill me. And ...' her body slapped down against his again, '... I want you to come inside me. I want to feel that stuff all hot and thick ... Oh, shit ... I'm going to come.'

The woman slumped forward against her husband's chest; her breasts squashing against him. He took control now and gripped her hips and lifted her up and down on his cock. He pushed upwards with his hips to meet each downward movement as he manipulated his wife's body over his own. He heard her whimper and sigh and groan, with each sound urging him on. He could feel his orgasm begin to surge, the rush of his semen inevitable and unstoppable now.

'Fuck me,' he grunted. 'Use your slippery cunt and fuck me.' And then he was engulfed in the bliss as he fulfilled his wife's wish.

A few minutes later they lay side by side in the ruined bed. She turned to look at him, her eyes flicking down to his penis. 'You're still hard,' she said.

'Yeah.'

'Give me some more?' She shuffled onto her side, back to him, and pushed her backside towards him.

He looked at the curves of his wife's body and felt a renewed wave of desire. He rolled onto his side and, with one hand at the root of his cock, and the other peeling the gooey folds apart, he guided himself into her again.