This kind of thing happens all the time! I have had a few experiences myself, though perhaps I was just not smart or cool enough as Jordon Poole to bring it to this level. Enjoy the story!
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Jordon Poole wrenched himself free of the clinging, though sleeping woman. Even unconscious, she seemed to devour him. He slowly pulled his limp dick from her hungry pussy. She moaned at his absence, but failed to wake, clutching instead at his still warm pillow and pulling it down between her meaty thighs.
"Jeezus!" He thought, it's almost frightening! The woman is insatiable! Self preservation told him he could not take his eyes off her until he was clear of the bed, and positively beyond her reach. He wasn't taking the slightest chance of being pulled back in by this Scylla of a woman. Like the mythological character, she seemed to have endless appendages to entrap and please him, and more than one head to work him over until he could stand no more.
The myths were wrong - she'd not become a rock outcropping after all! Hercules would shiver in the timbers of his boat if he knew. She lived! And now commanded Jordon's bed, and his body! He had to get out of his own apartment fast if he were to survive the most thorough and exhausting fucking he'd ever had.
He stepped past his dresser on his way to the bathroom, picking up a fresh set of briefs and socks. He snagged a "T" from the second drawer and left it open to avoid making unnecessary noise. Brushing his teeth and splashing a little water on his face was all he dared for fear of waking the monster up, and he scooped up his jeans from the floor and stepped into his shoes as he quietly but quickly passed out the door.
"Phew!" He sighed as he buckled his pants. He walked down the outside deck to the stairs leading to the ground floor and quickly opened the locked door of his truck, using the key, not the electronic lock that beeped when pressed. He stepped in slowly, leaving the door ajar, and started the engine. The red, Dodge Ram 3500 Quad Cab SLT, burbled to life and quieted quickly to a purr with enough power to back him away from the building with no additional coaxing necessary. He even let it's idle speed move the truck a half block away before he gave it anymore gas. It wasn't until he did so that he breathed a final sigh of relief and began to think of what he would do with the time before his first job.
"Coffee!" He announced to no one, accustomed to speaking to his truck in the absence of people. The drive to a nearby Denny's was less than five minutes, and at five-thirty in the morning unencumbered even by traffic lights. He let the engine idle a few seconds before cutting its ignition and leaving the cab, still just a bit shaky from the vigorous night of bed-bound warfare. This breakfast was going to hit all the right buttons indeed.
"Hi, Jordon. Up a bit early, aren't we?" She winked at him as she slid the plastic covered menu across the booth table.
"You should know, Rita," He smiled back at her and raised the familiar listing as if to read what he already knew. He and Rita were not unfamiliar with each other's bodies either. Several times she had dropped by after work on the morning shift and waited patiently for his return, usually mid-afternoon. Rita was not an unwelcome sight on the stairs to the second floor deck, but she just wasn't his type either, a bit too clingy and a bit too chatty. To her credit, she was totally non-judgmental and seemed to have not a flake of jealousy in her. She knew he was a poster bachelor, and seeing different women all the time, many thinner than her hundred and fifty pounds, but she never complained.
Jordon liked her for the person she was. He hoped she didn't think he was doing her a favor on those days when he'd take her up to his apartment and let her please him until dinner when just as he was about to slip her the salami, she'd have to leave for some almost forgotten engagement. He wondered if maybe she had some kind of disease, or maybe she was trying to remain faithful to someone else. In any case, she always gave him the blowjob and other masturbatatorial ministrations of fantasies run amuck, and for that he was grateful. He did wish he could culminate their sex for her too, but she absolutely refused anything but hand and mouth manipulation. Odd, but hey, we all have a right.
"Yes, I do know, don't I?" She smiled devilishly and let a hand brush under her pendulous breasts. "So are you coming home early today?"
Jordon's internal reaction was one of dread, no more! "I uh, sorry, Rita. I had a rough night and a big day ahead. Maybe tomorrow? Or some other time?"
"Tomorrow then, big fella. I'll bring some 'aids', if you know what I mean." She winked again and smiled before turning and flinging over her shoulder, "I'll get you your breakfast."
"Aids!" Did she have to use that word? He wondered if he'd be up to another fling with Rita with only thirty hours to recover from the serpent tailed, twelve legged, six headed voracious sea monster still occupying his bed. Hell, he thought, would she even leave!
Six miles away, Moira Langston spooned snuggly up against her sleeping husband. Over his shoulder she could see the red, digital readout on the clock radio on the nightstand. They had a half hour before the alarm. She shook her head to flip her long wavy hair up and over his exposed upper arm where it hung down and grazed the skin of his chest. Her breasts were softly pushed up against his back, and her thighs pressed against the back of his, her loins against his ass.
Breathing softly down the back of his neck, she quietly slipped her arm over him, just below the narrowest section of his waist, and let her left hand's long slender fingers extend fully. Slowly, she pulled her arm back to assist in making contact with his early morning hard on.
His spine stiffened at her touch as if he'd just stuck his finger into a socket. "Unnn..." He groaned.
Moira tried not to hear. His tone was not a welcome one. Though this approach had worked flawlessly in their first year or two of marriage, its effectiveness had diminished over time until even this brazen act scarcely worked at all anymore. So far, she'd refused to let herself believe their marriage was going the way all her friends had predicted, based they claimed, on their own experience. "The climate changes, Moira," One said, putting it rather disturbingly, "Winter sets in and just never leaves."
She ignored his complaining groan and began to stroke his meat in long slow pulls, a technique he had taught her early on. She squeezed firmly on his shaft and moved its entire sheath along its length, then back, never touching the head with her own skin, only his. Her spirits climbed suddenly when she felt a pulse run through the member's veins, followed by a noticeable, further hardening of its trunk. Encouraged, she increased her pace and pressure.
"Honey! What time is it? Damnit, I have to work in the morning!" He moved his head on the pillow but not his body. It could have been a dismissal, or a man saying "No," when he really meant, "Yes!"
Moira let her little finger separate from its locked fist to touch his ball sac each time she pumped his prick back into its socket. She knew he liked this sensation too, along with the one her other hand was about to perform, gliding down his crack from behind. She allowed herself a smile at her husband's inevitable capitulation.
"Stop, Babe!" He rolled over on her ass-bound hand, his weight forcing her to withdraw her other hand to push him back a moment so she could remove herself from beneath him.
She pulled away and rolled over on her back, releasing his cock like a hot pan handle. She exhausted in one breath, her entire passion to take and be taken by her husband. "Damnit to HELL!" She screamed silently to herself. She was nearing the end of her rope.
An hour and a half later, she was cleaning up the last of the breakfast dishes and looking around the kitchen and dinette table for any more. Seeing none, she closed the dishwasher and hung the towel she'd used to dry the frying pan. The morning had evolved from one of hope and lust to habitual routine and boredom. Stepping over to the calendar beside the back door she pointed toward the date and said aloud, "Oh! That's right!" The plumber was coming today. Something different was in store after all, even if it was just to install the new pedestal sink in the foyer bathroom.
She looked at her wrist and realized she'd been so distracted by her frustration she'd forgotten to put on her watch. Short of that, she looked over at the microwave and eyed the time as eight-ten, only twenty minutes before the plumber was due. She looked instinctively down at her robe, calculated the time it would take to get "decent" for the public, and rushed out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. Halfway up, the doorbell rang.
Jordon rang the bell again, hoping like hell yet another customer hadn't forgotten scheduling his work today. Admittedly, he was early, but he'd never heard a complaint about that. Only when he was late, for whatever legitimate reason, did he hear any comment at all about his arrival, and that was usually in the form of complaints. Never had he heard a customer ask, "Is everything all right?" The door handle clicked and the door began to open.
The red head poked only her head around the door as if to keep the rest of herself concealed. Of course, he thought, she might not even be dressed yet! "I'm sorry, Mrs. Langston. I'm early. I didn't even think. I'll come back when I'm supposed to." He started to turn away.
"NO!" She paused, wishing she could retrieve some of the excitement in her voice. The man was a hunk, at least in her eyes. She loved that he had a little "executive bulge" as her husband called the slight padding above the waist of middle aged men. She liked the broad shoulders of course, but the narrow hips too. His hair was cropped short with maybe an inch of the black, slightly receding hairline showing above his forehead. His eyes were the richest hazel she'd ever seen, something she'd noticed the first time they'd met when he came to estimate the job. She looked at them again now and almost swooned in their glow. "I mean, come in. I was just cleaning up."
Jordon stepped inside, being careful not to let his tool box touch the walls or door jam. It was a heavy box, hardwood with corners that could dent even metal frames if bumped soundly enough. "Really, I could leave and come back. Are you sure?"
"Of course." She was quickly relaxing with the man's attitude and politeness. She pushed the door closed and allowed herself to be seen from head to toe. When she'd let the door go, she looked down and noticed her right breast was nearly free of the robe and she quickly grasped the lapels and closed herself in.
Jordon did notice the breast, despite his sexual exhaustion, and was too slow to turn away. She saw him looking. The silence lasted a few seconds before he asked, "The uh, bathroom, Mrs. Langston?" He nodded toward the other door, on the wall behind her.
"Moira," She suddenly jerked, as if hearing the rest of his words in a different sentence. "And yes, that's it." She stepped aside and pulled the door open for Jordon. She felt a little foolish, for he'd already been there and seen it for the estimate. "Please, call me Moira." She smiled, even batted her eyes.
Jordon smiled back and nodded, but said nothing. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage yet another lonely housewife when he was so through with sex after last night. It's funny, he thought, he didn't feel satiated, only exhausted. He wanted to flush the entire affair from his mind and he used thoughts of Rita's comment about aids to thoroughly confuse his mind. He stepped forward to put his tools on the tile floor.
"So, the sink. Where is it?" He turned after confirming it was not in the larger than normal half bathroom.
