Morning came early. Not because he wanted to get up at such an early hour, but because the sun made it through that one little open section of curtain and hit him in the eyes. Normally the curtains were neat, hung straight as if ordered to do so by a slave driver of a Master Sergeant. But now, they fell about the window frame in a disorderly manner, the lady of the house not able to fuss over them and correct their slovenliness.
The curtains weren't the only thing disobeying orders. A lamp shade sat akimbo, various items of clothing lay strewn on the floor, and the bed's comforter was piled in a corner, evidence of someone's carelessness.
That someone was lying beside him, still snoozing dreamily.
"I gotta piss." The first thoughts that entered his head. Just like every other day. Lazily scratching his nuts, visions of the previous night came back to him like shadows in a funhouse. Even if he tried to focus on them, clarity was fleeting. Drinking, laughing, friends, the seduction of a friend's wife, more drinking, more laughing, sex—oh my God, the sex!—kept flashing through his mind.
Exiting the huge bed gingerly, careful to not make a movement that would cause her to stir, he sat up. "Naked...again," he thought to himself. "'Didn't even bother to put on drawers." The evidence of last night's debauchery was everywhere. A crumpled pair of purple panties (What a misnomer; that wisp of lingerie barely could cover a deck of cards let alone a beautiful ass like the one in the bed.), a torn pair of boxers, and a still slightly wet stain on the bed all pointed out that someone had had a lot of fun.
Morning wood led the way to the master bath just down a small hallway. He peed as quietly as possible while memories came rushing back. "Did two different women really suck my cock?" He emptied his bladder. "Geez, that was hot."
Considerately, he wiped any little splashes of piss off of the rim of the toilet since she liked to keep a clean house. Keeping her happy was very high on the list of priorities. A woman who did the things she was capable of was certainly worth keeping happy. He looked in the mirror, stretched luxuriantly, and noticed with some satisfaction that his morning toilet which usually allowed the swelling of his cock to dissipate, had had no effect. Still hard, he walked back into the bedroom.
Tousled blond locks spilled all over the pillows. One dainty hand drooped over the edge of the bed from beneath cotton sheets. Well manicured fingers hung lazily, reminding him of when they'd been wrapped tightly around his throbbing member last night as she stood behind him, slowly jacking the rod. Those pretty fingers and expertly painted nails looked fantastic wrapped around his thick cock. A brunette with vaguely Polynesian features had been kneeling in front of him, her bare tits still heaving from the exertion of her recent orgasm.
He hesitated, trying to remember that orgasm.
"Oh yeah..." he smiled to himself as he remembered the scene of the blond kneeling behind the brunette, working those pretty fingers over her clit and into her cunt, whispering into her ear, "Do you want to cum for me? Your pussy's so wet...say you want to cum. I might let you do it."
