Sex While Woring Opposite Shifts

Based on a true story. The names have been changed to protect the couple involved.

*

Scott wasn't sure if he was awake when he heard the door or if the door woke him. He glanced at the clock and realized two things: It was too early to get up for work and just about the right time for his wife to come in from her job. Actually, three things: Working opposite shifts really sucked. He and Robin hadn't seen each other awake in almost a week.

Robin came into the bedroom as Scott turned on the lamp.

"Oh, you're awake," she said. "Nice to see you. My name's Robin, my friends call me Bobbie."

"Hi," he joked back. "Do you come here often?"

She sat on the bed and kissed him lightly, "Yeah, but I miss you."

"Hang in there, Honey. It won't be much longer..."

Bobbie was peeling off her blouse as his sentence trailed off. She bent forward to take off her shoes and he enjoyed the curve of her back. He couldn't resist running a finger tip up her spine.

As she sat up and turned to him she didn't waste any motion, but slipped her bra straps down her shoulders and over her elbows. She pulled the bra around to unclasp it under her breasts, smiling all the time. It's funny how just routinely undressing can affect a husband when he hasn't had sex in a couple of weeks.

"Give me a couple of minutes," she ordered gently as she stood up and peeled off slacks and panties in a single move. Scott felt his dick harden under the sheets as he watched her balance on one foot, then the other before casually tossing the whole lot of her clothes into the hamper. She grabbed something out of the dresser drawer and started for the bathroom, leaving the door open.

He heard the toilet flush then saw her step in front of the mirror as she pulled his worn, thread-bare old undershirt over her head and down her body, covering her ass. She gathered her brown curls into a pony tail and slipped a band over it before bending over to wash her face and brush her teeth. His eyes met hers in the mirror just before she bent down to spit.

She turned around and he got a good view of her as she paused to turn off the bathroom light switch. The undershirt hung on her like a half empty potato sack but dear God, he liked her potatoes.

"You know," he said as she came around the bed to her side, "you have a dozen silk and satin night gowns but that's still my favorite."

"Really?" She pulled the covers off her naked husband and crawled into the bed, then over him to turn off the lamp. Moonlight still filtered in the window. "So how come you're not wearing it?" She laid her arm across his chest with her face close to his. The scent of toothpaste can be so damned sexy.

"'Cause it looks so much better on my wife" he said as he rolled into her arms.

Lying on their sides they explored familiar bodies again, tongues wrestling in each others mouths for no reason other than that it felt so good. Eventually he reached down to her crotch to feel her; hot and juicy, just the way he liked it.

He broke the embrace to roll back and reach the nightstand. He fumbled in the dark for the drawer but in a few seconds he had found the condom.

Robin watched as he deftly tore the little pack open and unrolled the dry plastic down his now fully erect penis. The scent of the latex wasn't arousing but the sight of him touching his member kept her lubricating for a few seconds before he touched her again.

He rolled onto her, positioning himself and penetrating her. She pulled him down so she could feel his weight on her chest and paw at his back as he began to move.

The first wave of orgasm was mild, just warming her pelvis as she met his thrusts. She didn't like condoms except for one thing: They made Scott last longer once he got his dick into her. Her second orgasm was a few seconds behind the first, and stronger than the first. The third was better still.

She never felt him ejaculate when he used protection, but his thrusts became more rapid and deep, then suddenly his pelvis was pressing hers tightly, and she felt him exhale and not take another breath for several seconds. She tried to hold onto him, using all the upper body strength she could muster. She didn't want it to end but knew it would.

Scott rolled off his wife. Her vagina made a popping sound, "pussy farts" he called them, as he lay next to her. As he recovered his breath he used both hands to remove the condom, just like the instructions on the box said, and tied it into a knot before tossing it at the wastebasket. Before his arm was down Robin was back on him.

She quickly moved down to straddle his ankles. Steadying herself with one arm she grabbed his still semi-hard member with her other hand and guided it too her mouth, licking as if she wanted it hard again.

"Holy shit, Bobby!" he moaned. She continued to torture him with pleasure. It would have been better if she could have tasted her own juices on it, but she did like the taste she was getting and no drop of sperm escaped her tongue.

Finally he was limp, and she let go of him and returned to her place beside her husband. He put his arm around her and she laid her head on his chest.

Neither of them was aware of falling asleep before the alarm went off, signaling time for Scott to get out of bed for work. While the beeper kept sounding over the music Robin turned her face to his. Scott didn't look happy.

"There is just no way today is going to get any better" he moaned.

"I dunno'," said Robin. "I got you doughnuts on the way home."

"Glazed or jelly?" he quipped.

"Cream filled... like I wish I was right now."

"Hang in there sweetheart. I promise it won't be much longer."

He kissed her and gently pushed her out of his way to roll out of bed. "Don't get up," he mumbled. It wasn't necessary: She wasn't going to bother.

She watched him shave and dress before he sat down on the bed to kiss her once more. They both knew she'd be at work when he came in, dog tired, and crawled into bed again.

She heard the front door close behind him and lay facing the window to see his car pull out of the driveway. Then she threw the covers off and jumped to her feet.

From the floor next to the waste basket she retrieved the condom. There must have been an ounce of Scott's precious sperm in that latex bag. Robin bought the unlubricated condoms herself so she could be sure there were no spermicides. As she turned toward the dresser she held the condom to her mouth and with her eye teeth tore a hole below the knot.

From her underwear drawer she retrieved the eyedropper she had hidden there.

She sat on the bed and positioned herself; on her back, her butt on the pillows and ankles on the headboard.

Holding the eyedropper over her chest, she drew the sperm from the torn condom into the tube. Carefully she laid the condom on Scott's side of the bed. If he noticed the stain he'd think he's spilled a few drops when he pulled the damned thing off.

With one hand she parted her labia and with the other she inserted the dropper as deeply as she could before squirting Scott's sperm into the place it belonged. Laying the dropper next to the condom she put both hands on herself and began to masturbate to a fourth orgasm: The pregnancy manuals all said that orgasms draw sperm up into the uterus.

"'Hang in there sweetheart,'" she said to herself as the climax approached. "' It won't be much longer.' No, it won't be much longer..." After all, everybody knows condoms have a fifteen percent failure rate.