Friday morning, 7.30 am it was a trial getting up at that time given the exhausting exercise and the late hour of retirement, Brian remained in the land of nod.
Dressed only in my diaphanous pale blue nylon night dress, pink satin dressing gown and old fluffy mules, I shuffled, stretching, scratching and yawning down to the entrance hallway of the flats. Telephones were often a shared facility in houses such as this.
I dialled the number...
"Highway supermarket."
I inserted the appropriate coins.
I yawned.
"Its Brian Woodcock's landlady here, unfortunately he was unwell in the night, and won't be in work for a few days."
I yawned again.
"Oh dear, sorry to hear that. What's wrong, do you know?"
"Not sure, maybe food poisoning, very sick!"
"Oh dear, any idea what caused it?"
I had to think quickly, what had he been eating the previous night?
"Not sure, I think it may have been something fishy."
"Well give him our good wishes, hope he is back to work soon."
"Bye."
Now back to my studio, to wake Brian with his breakfast.
Something fishy indeed, the nearest he had been to something fishy was my pussy!
I performed my morning duties in the bathroom, Oooh that tingle as my flannel refreshed my still sensitive parts. I clamped my thighs together savouring the moment.
I decided that he truly deserved a 'full English'; I wanted his energy to be at peak. I had no intention of dipping out on the conjugals, even though conjugal activity was a long way from his "rights".
A girl, ok, woman has her needs you know. I had been lusting after young Brian for too long to let it just disappear after just one night of fornication.
Besides I did want to paint him in the nude, in aaalll his glory, and if I had my way, two versions, one for me and one for exhibition.
The one for me was not going to be too difficult, heck he seemed to sport an erection almost permanently; the one for exhibition was going to be more of a challenge.
In the kitchen, frying pan, toaster, bacon, eggs bread, all the usual. I had already cast off my dressing gown, hoisting my nightdress I tied a frilly apron around my waist before starting to exercise my dubious culinary skills.
My efforts soon generated a wholesome if somewhat smoky aroma, the kettle boiled, tea was made, and plates rattled as I set the table for the morning repast. I heard my bed springs squeak from the other room, followed by the loud high pressure relief of Brian's bladder.
Vigorous teeth cleaning followed as I stepped away from the cooker and removed my nightdress. Standing now in just my mules and apron. Fortunately the majority of the frying had been completed or my delicate, tender after last nights activity, tits would have been spattered with hot spits of bacon fat.
Brian entered the kitchen obviously refreshed and stark bullock naked.
"I've over slept; I'll be late for work."
He yawned and stretched then typically scratched his balls.
Although having mumbled about being late for work, he showed no sign of urgency, no hurry to remedy the situation.
"I phone, and told them you were sick, wouldn't be in till Monday."
"Naughteeee." was Brian's response.
"Help yourself to what you want for breakfast."
The state of his rigid cock did not suggest work, as his eyes appreciated both my style of kitchen wear and of course the breakfast I had prepared.
He stepped towards me and took me in his arms in passionate embrace, kissing me with open mouthed urgency.
My tits, nipples erect pressed into his sparsely haired chest, while his rigidity nuzzled to my pussy, protected by my simple frilly apron. His hand squeezed my tit before he dropped his head to suckle it.
I threw my head back, arching my back forcing the nipple further between his lips. With his tongue he caressed up from the nipple around the aureole, and upward over my chest and my throat, regaining my lips with another tongue probing exchange.
He paused.
Then cleared the nicely laid table, cutlery, crockery and the fresh hot pot of tea, all placed neatly on the work surface to the side. It was a delight to watch his cock bouncing about as he moved around, I could but stand and watch.
He approached again and we fell once more into the passionate embrace. I tingled at the touch of his hard knob against my apron clad hairy muff.
I sighed, the breath swallowed by the passion of our open mouthed osculation.
Suddenly, without a word of warning he scooped me gently, well, sort of scooped me, if you can call lifting one leg to waist high scooping, and with him holding that one leg and me hopping on the other, delivered my backside to the breakfast table.
One last hop...
"Ouch"...
And that was it. I was ensconced on the table. He eased me back till I was lying; my feet clear of the floor, the wood of the table cool against my back and my buttocks right on the edge of the table.
I spread my legs; the flimsy apron fell between them covering my curly golden treasure.
I sighed.
Brian dropped to his knees as I raised my legs to catch my heels on the table edge, still the apron between them. Now, I knew, if, when, he lifted the apron my golden curls would be the only covering to my otherwise lewdly displayed pussy.
And so it was, he flipped the apron clear, it fell half across my tits.
His finger tip touched my anus, I shivered, and a thrill ran through my body. He drew the finger forward, up along my now very juicy slit as he touched my pussy his finger was sucked into its soft moistness.
I moaned my acceptance of his intrusion. Next his thumbs, one each side parted the outer lips to even more lewdly expose my being. I could sense my eyes on that most intimate part.
I felt his hot breath as more thrills coursed through my body, followed by the 'electric' shock of his tongue as it started to tease. I was so pleased that my morning ablutions had removed the sticky, creamy residue of our night's enjoyment.
As a newcomer to this most pleasurable sport he may not have appreciated a richer dish to start the day.
It touched my clit first, that made me jump I can tell you! He then proceeded to examine in detail every tiny part of my pussy with his tongue, assisted where needed by his inquisitive fingers.
Brian clearly knew what he wanted for his breakfast, and it wasn't a 'full English'. I can't say that I was disappointed. His breakfast was my own very enjoyable breakfast too.
He held my hips to at least partially control my pelvic thrusting allowing unfettered scope to his probing tongue.
Suddenly the tongue was gone and as I lay with my fore arm across my eyes I could sense the increase in lubrication in anticipation of a more substantial intrusion. I didn't need to see to know that Brian was now standing between my parted thighs.
His fingers stroked and caressed my curls, I tingled with anticipation. There was movement. It's going to be ...now.
It wasn't, he moved instead to my side and began to trace my nipples and caress, and squeeze my breasts, a little more that a handful, they were certainly worth the attention which elicited a moan from me.
Leaning across me he replaced the fingers tweaking my left nipple with his lips, his sparse chest hair teasing my right breast. He suckled, flicked his tongue across, nibbled and teased as slowly his hand crept down over my body stroking, fondling its way gently back to my curly mat.
The attention to my titties, the engorgement of my nipples, the swirling tongue and the caressing hand were all having an effect. His finger parted my curls and slipped between the lips of my pussy.
He touched my anus, I started. He drew his finger back along the silky furrow until inevitably he reached my clit. The lightest of touches on my sensitivity send me into a crashing orgasm.
His lips met mine, my thighs slammed together, ensuring that his finger and my clit were welded forever, or at the very least until this orgasm had passed.
Our tongues fenced on in the arena of our open mouths as we savoured each of us our partner's distinctive flavour as we jousted on, riding out the waves of passion ,both physical and emotional as the orgasm drove ever onward.
I wanted to weep, to hug yet more firmly, to force my tongue even further into Brian's mouth. Not on my clit, I wanted that finger, in me or at least I ached for something to be in me, preferably something firm and satisfying.
As I slowly descended from the ebbing tide of orgasm, not a momentary short sharp experience but a truly shattering, extended plateau of sheer pleasure, my thighs reluctantly released his hand as they fell asunder, leaving poor deserted pussy wantonly exposed to the world.
Unashamed, at the intensity of my feelings, a tear trickled down my cheek; his finger traced the sensitive areas of my slippery slit. He tenderly kissed away the tear.
"Why the tears?"
"Oh, nothing really, the depth of feeling, your sensitivity, the intensity of that orgasm, a little disappointment."
Brian coloured up, blushing deeply.
