My cock is pounding into you as your ass slaps the floor with each stroke. Your breasts are heaving, your mouth is open in a scream of pure raw fucking pleasure. With each thrust, I say your name, I grunt your name, until I can’t hold back. As I pour warm cum into you, your legs wrap tight around my waist and you moan, saying you are cumming with me, cumming with me, cumming with me.
As our bodies slow down, our breathing relaxes, we look at each other and smile, then start laughing. Our clothes are still on. We are in the kitchen where ten minutes ago, standing, talking.
It started with a kiss at the front door. Late afternoon on a busy Saturday, you about to step out to get some extra food for the following weekend’s road trip; me, returning from errands, stepping inside to the smell of Italian sauce--garlic, tomato, basil, olive oil--filling the house. We met at the door, pausing briefly for a kiss on such a busy day. We hadn’t seen each other since the morning’s coffee and we were so consumed with so many things to do, you almost stepped right out the door before I could land one quick kiss on your lips. When I smelled the cooking, you asked me to keep an eye on the simmering sauce. As I headed for the kitchen, you followed, warning me not to add anything else to your perfect recipe.
In the kitchen, I tasted the sauce on a wooden spoon, then offered you a taste. As you sampled, I reached for the pepper mill and you grab my hand. We started laughing and I leaned in for another kiss. Your hand locked onto mine as we kissed. When our eyes both opened at the same time, in mid-kiss, we smiled. And then closed our eyes and kisses a little deeper.