Heather was up long before me on Sunday morning. She had fanned the embers of last nights’ fire into a cheering blaze again, had made a pot of tea and had sat herself on the sofa in the lounge, warming herself in a pool of brilliant sunlight and reading one of her magazines while I carried on sleeping.
Eventually she came into me and called me gently. I was awake and alert in an instant as she slid under the duvet beside me. For some reason she was waring her red satin pyjama top, but no trousers. I snuggled up to her warmth and she held me closely to her.
She wasted no time. Her hand was on my cock in an instant but I was way ahead of her and was already hard and ready for action. She gripped me tightly and began wanking me vigorously. I just moaned and stretched out full length, thrusting my hips towards her, then wrapping my arms around her head and crushing her face onto mine, letting her tongue plunge deep into my mouth. None of her customary coquettish tongue-fencing, no teasing of lips; this was straight in like a dagger, straining to get deep down my throat.
I kicked the crumpled duvet from us and, clasping onto each other, we rolled across the bed until I ended up on top of her, reached down to part her labia and plunged straight into her, driving into her with a force that drove the breath out of her and had her crying out a higher note on the scale for every successive thrust.
Then I stopped a while. Were it possible for Heather to achieve orgasm purely vaginally I would have carried on pushing and pushing until I had finally pushed her over that cliff, but I know that she can’t. She can get close, but she needs her clitoral stimulation to take her all the way. I stretched out and did a half-roll so that she was lying beside me, with her legs drawn up and wrapped around my middle. Here we lay, with me deep up inside her, just savouring the feel of being totally enfolded in her soft warmth and nibbling her ear.
Slowly I eased out of her and reached down to wet two fingers in her cunt and then ensnare her clit between them. I gently massaged it with big, gentle circular motions, and figures of eight which had fingertips gliding lightly over the exposed head. I slid my fingers up and down to either side, and gently caught hold of the hood, drawing it up and pressing down on the stalk, massaging it to either side of where it joins the head. The way she moaned and clung to me, the way her breath came in sharp little gasps, the way she kissed me so deeply and so passionately spurred me on, but I knew there was something missing: Having had her cunt opened out, she was going to need something in there again if we were going to maximise her joy. I told her to get up on all fours, knelt beside her, slid a thumb into her so that it glided over her g-spot and caught her clitoris in the crook of my index finger, thrusting into her harder and harder as she clamped her legs ever harder onto my hand. With each thrust, her breasts swung free and I held my other hand under them so that the nipples brushed my open palm.
Suddenly she ducked her head down into the pillow, muffling her cries and making her bum jut up into the air. I smoother my hand over her hard little bum cheeks, then delivered a resounding slap. She howled and shuddered through her whole body. Another slap in the same spot, closely followed by an equally well-placed slap on the other side bought a wail of “You’re hurting me!” but she was already losing her footing against the torrent of her oncoming orgasm and in an instant more she was swept away, clinging to the pillow as if it were a piece of driftwood.
Slowly, I wound down the pressure on her, manoeuvring myself behind her, so that my engorged cock could replace my thumb without breaking the rhythm. She did not feel inclined to part her legs just yet, so I mounted her porn-star style, squatting above her with my feet to either side of her knees, gripping her shoulders and driving into her with short thrusts of the thighs.
When the last shocks of her orgasm had ebbed away I rolled her over, had her hoist her legs high and wide and I just plunged recklessly into her soaking, swollen cunt. With her legs still high aloft I knelt between them and just enjoyed the view of her engorged cunt lips, so invitingly framed in that gorgeous rim of hair. I placed the tip of my cock just in her opening and wanked myself, pushing my closed fist into her wetness with every stroke and, when just on the point of coming, I threw myself onto her again, to be totally consumed by her.
Then we lay side by side, me still in her, stroking, kissing, clasping until at last I eased myself out, trying to avoid depositing a glob of our combined juices on the sheet and failing miserably. She laughed because it ended up on my side of the bed “For a change”. We cleaned up and dressed, poured a cup of tea and pottered around the living room in a sort of euphoric haze…
And then we rowed. As sudden and unexpected as a squall out of a bright blue sky. One wrong word and we were blazing at each other. The frustrations of a stressful week at work, not entirely purged by the fucking we had just enjoyed, erupted to the surface as we first yelled, then glowered at each other. The cause of the argument was too petty for words, to embarrassing to recall. I am naturally pessimistic and prone to bouts of melancholy, Heather finds this hard to take at times. She accused me of ‘being negative’, I responded by saying that she used the term ‘being negative’ as a catch-all in the same way as former Communist Bloc states would indict dissidents with ‘crimes against the state’, or as what Orwell described as ‘Thoughtcrime’. If the terms of
Godwins’ Law extend beyond the narrow confines of Nazi Germany to embrace all totalitarian regimes, which I suspect it ought to, then I lost the argument by default.
In any case, peace resumed and we spent the rest of that fine Sunday stacking logs for use as firewood. Theres nothing like working at something together to strengthen the ties between two people.
Well, almost nothing.
By evening we were talking again as if nothing had happened, but then by evening we had much more interesting things to do with our tongues than just talking.
