She sits on her couch at home, late at night. The kids are in bed. The TV is on but she's not really watching it. It's just background noise. The dishes are done, the floor is vacuumed. It's her time. She should be relaxing. Instead she's worrying. Worrying about how she's going to survive another month. How she's going to pay the bills. She knows she can't keep robbing Peter to pay Paul.
Ah, Peter, Peter, Peter. She repeats the name in her head. The daydreams and memories begin to flood her brain. His large, rough, calloused hands. How the tips of his fingers can curl over hers when they're palm to palm. How warm his hands feel against her skin. She closes her eyes and sighs. She feels his fingers trail down her neck causing her head to tip slightly backwards.
Peter's hand trails across her collar bone to her chest, his fingers brushing the skin just below the neck of her shirt causing a tingling sensation to travel up her spine. Peter leans in close, cups her face in his palms and kisses her. She can feel his fingers at the base of her skull, his thumbs behind her ears and the stubble from his 5 o'clock shadow on her upper lip. She leans into him threading her fingers thru his light brown hair. Her kiss intensifies.
Her tongue inches its way thru her lips and his. She runs the tip of her tongue over the back of his front teeth, inviting his tongue to join hers. His tongue meets hers and caresses it as his hands travel over her shoulders, down to rest at the small of her back. He works his fingertips just under the waist line of her jeans and thong. She drops her hands from his hair, over his shoulders, across his solid muscular chest, under his arms and grips his strong shoulders from behind. Their passion mounts as she softly moans against his lips. He wants her, needs her, but not here. Not in the living room.
He works his hands free of her jeans, grips her firm, plump ass and picks her up. She wraps her legs around his waist grinding her crotch against his jeans as he carries her to the bedroom. She can feel his thickness pressing against his jeans, ready for her and begging to be released. Her clitoris throbs in response and her pussy grows wetter with anticipation. She needs him. Needs to feel him inside her. She's been dreaming of this moment for so long. Peter nudges the bedroom door shut with his foot, leaving them in complete darkness.
It doesn't matter. He knows the way to her bed. Peter bends over and gently lays her on the bed. Her eager hands search for his jeans buckle and find it. She quickly unbuttons Peter's jeans and drops them to the floor as he kicks off his shoes. Her hands begin to tremble as Peter slips her jeans and thong off. The soft black lace of her thong warm and wet in his hands brings a smile to his face. She inhales deeply as he slips her shirt over her head and unfastens the matching black lace bra. He loves the sight and thought of that black lace hugging her body. He kisses a trail to her chest.
His tongue licking and worshiping one taunt, ruby red nipple and then the other. Her back arches as her fingernails begin to dig into his shoulders. She tightens her legs around his waist, pulling him closer and rubs her bare wet and warm pussy against his bulging twitching erection as it strains against his boxers to be set free. She hooks her toes in the waistline of his boxers and slides them down over his hips letting them drop to the floor.
Her moans become louder and her body tingles. Finally she can feel his raging manhood against her thigh. It's glorious. The way it throbs, twitching as if it has a mind of its own and it's searching. Searching for her womanly door to heaven. Peter shifts his hips backwards, runs his hands down her sides and tightly grips her ass, raising it to meet the silky fleshy tip of his cock. Peter leans forward.
