What Just Happened?

The Weekend. The fine weather promised to hold out until halfway through Sunday, at least. Both kids away doing various things. The two of us in need of some heavy-duty relaxation. The perfect recipe for some hot lovin’ action hidden away in our little summerhouse, right?

Wrong. You couldn’t be more wrong.

After a leisurely lunch on the terrace I came forward with a more-than-usually-indecent proposal. As far as Heather was concerned, it was bad timing. She just wasn’t up for it there and then. She just needed to wind down. She went off to find a sunny spot on the lawn to read her way through her stack of magazines and absorb some rays. I busied myself about the garden working out my frustrations with various petrol-driven appliances for holding back the inevitable advance of nature. I admit that over the last few weeks the weather has been so good that we have been too busy fucking or just lazing about to do much with the garden with the result that the grass has been growing out of hand and the wild roses which fringe our plot have been advancing insidiously on the house.

OK, I could have downed tools at any moment and dragged her off to the bedroom and she wouldn’t have complained very much, if at all, but I don’t take rejection very well and in any case, it’s nice to be dragged away yourself every once in a while instead of always having to do the dragging.

Supper came and went; there was something on TV we both wanted to watch. Not too long after that, Heather was stretched out on the sofa, snoring.

I spent the next day somewhat bewildered; disappointed; rejected. We’d missed out on a good opportunity for some fun sex and Heather was seemingly indifferent. We didn’t get the chance to talk things over properly because Daughter had joined us by then.

It was Monday evening, in bed, before we had a chance to talk: This is the downside to being very busy at work. She told me she had read my most recent post and had wanted to comment, but hadn’t. I told her she could comment all she wanted face to face. We fooled around with each other a little but, being 2am, sex was clearly out of the question…



She was tense and dry. Tentative fingers seeking down between her legs were just causing her irritation. I steered her face towards mine, planted my lips full on hers and very slowly slid a hand over her face until it was smothered, insidiously pinching her nostrils and pressing my mouth harder onto hers until she was struggling beneath me. I released her to allow her to take gasping breaths and then repeated the treatment. Over and over again. She became soaking wet in no time and I was soon able to reposition myself above her, hoist her legs up over my shoulders and fold her in half as I skewered her. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of the first plunge into a well-lubricated but still unused and tight cunt. The closeness and smoothness, the smells, and ths sounds of her gasps. I wetted my cock thoroughly in her and then pulled out, intending to finish her off quickly by hand. As I knelt up by her head I curled one arm around it and pulled her up into my lap, pushing my glistening cock, heavy with her juices, between her quivering lips.

Now Heather hates this. Hates the taste of herself, but did nothing to resist. She licked and sucked in a resigned sort of way. I laid on top of her in a full-on ’69’, ramming my cock down her throat and burying my face in her juicy cunt. Then I fucked her again, hard and relentlessly, with the express intention of coating my cock in her viscous juices so that she could have another mouthful. I knelt up beside her like before and rubbed her clit to some kind of an orgasm – she was tense and I was rubbing too hard in my enthusiasm, edging over to the wrong side of that fine line between pleasure and pain. But any cries of protest were lost in the fleshy, slippery gag that was filling her mouth.

A third time I spread her legs and fucked her, shivering and limp like a ragdoll. A third time I shoved my cock into her face, coating it all over with her juices this time, tracing around her lips, slapping her cheeks. She lay there with eyes squeezed shut, shaking her head and mouthing ”No” again and again, but doing nothing to resist. I pummelled her cheek with the top of my fist as I wanked myself hard and at last released a flood of spunk all over her face.

This, for Heather, is the ultimate humiliation, and yet she lay there and let me do it to her. I regretted it almost as soon as the deed was done, patted her face gently with tissues and put eyedrops in her eyes as they react very badly to semen. I expected recriminations, but there came none; neither at the time or the next morning. It is as if, in the middle of a hectic life with many decisions to be taken and many burdens put upon her, she needs a space where she is led places she doesn’t want to go, where she is dominated and, yes, humiliated.

In the little fantasy kingdom that is our bedroom, she needs me to be the king.