While her husband undressed in the bathroom, she hung her bra on the doorknob and then pulled off her panties. Glancing at herself in the mirror for a moment, she ran her hand up through her hair and let the strands fall onto her shoulders. Her breasts sagged just a bit, but she smiled knowing she was in much better shape than her friends. She adjusted some pillows and climbed onto the bed, resting her back against the stack of pillows.
She had been ready for him when he got home. It had been several days and it seemed they had to keep up the average, three times a week except when she had her period. But today it was different, he had brought her flowers. Wondering if there might be a message somewhere, she asked herself, "Had he been with someone else?" She knew they were at that age when something seemed to...
"Oh babe, I love seeing you like that," he said, staring where she had been absent-mindedly touching her nipple.
"You!" she said, rolling over onto her stomach in mock modesty.
She remained on her stomach, wishing that he might begin kissing her ankles and slowly, wetly work up her calves, thighs and up her back. Just the thought of is sent a shiver down her back, a shiver quickly intterupted as he grabbed her leg and turned her over onto her back, gently, but insistently opening her legs.
Glancing down at him between her thighs she hoped for a moment he might remain down there, running his scratchy face along her thigh and settling between her legs, running his tongue up her slit. She closed her eyes hoping she'd feel his hot breath flow over her pussy, but feeling his hands grab her breasts, she groaned in disappointment.
"Oh you like that do you?" he said teasingly, moving his mouth to her nipple and roughly sucking it into his mouth, his teeth painfully sliding over the sensitive tip. She flinched and he moved to her other breast, this time a bit more gently.
It was like this every time, three times a week, twelve – thirteen times a month. She'd usually come in spite of his fumbling, she needed to, otherwise he'd sulk, his pride wounded in not "pleasing" his woman. To keep him happy she'd let herself drift to that day at the pool, when one of the waiters at the club went for a swim. She'd picture that young body climbing out of the pool dripping wet, walking over towards her to grab a towel. Yes, her husband could "please" her then, as if her orgasm was all there was to it.
She felt her husband's cock pressing against her, trying to gain entrance before she was really ready. Reaching down, she took hold of one of her lips and opened herself while she guided him in with her other hand. Their skin stuck a bit as he pushed, withdrew and then pushed again, slowly, patiently working further into her until she became wet enough to comfortably take him in.
