As long as it lasts.
Our daughter is back together with her boyfriend so perhaps we can look forward to long weekends where she just isn't around.
As long as it lasts.
Forgive my pessimism, but we've seen it all before. What we come to assume is a steady state is often perilously fragile. We know from experience that our comfortable child-free life can rapidly and dramatically change.
So the trick is to make the most of it as long as it lasts.
So when on Friday afternoon, daughter announced that she would be out all weekend, we weren't slow to make use of the window of opportunity.
"I hate wearing bras" Heather announced, after we had locked the doors of our business on Friday evening.
"Well I don't insist on you wearing them" I replied as I watched her peel off her top and reach behind her to unhook her bra. Is it just me, or is there something inherently erotic in the way a woman's elbows stick out at odd angles as she fumbles around behind her shoulder blades trying to find the clasp?
"Unless" I added hastily. "It's a tiny little quarter-cup push-up one which has your gorgeous breasts tumbling out of it".
She looked at me with an enigmatic sideways sort of look, her bra hanging floppy and functionless by its straps from her elbows. Then she gave a sort of wiggle to flaunt those magnificent free-hanging breasts in my face and off she went upstairs to change while I went out to get pizza.
Which I got back she was wearing a silky black sleeveless top which allowed just a tantalizing peek of a ruffled bra-strap underneath and with a scooped neckline which showed off her cleavage. Whichever bra she was now wearing, it was giving her a fantastic shape; her breasts were made high and massive so that the silky fabric of her top hung down off them like a shimmering curtain.
After pizza and a bottle of Italian red to go with it we took ourselves off to the bedroom. Yes, I know that with the house to ourselves we could pick any room, but the bedroom has the huge advantage that it contains a bed. Not to mention our stock of 'playwear' (for want of a better term), sex toys and pornography.
Slowly, Heather removed her top to reveal what she was wearing underneath: A black bra, heavily underwired and decorated with lace and gold brocade, padded when no padding was necessary, providing a cornucopia of soft white breast for me to touch and kiss and rest my head upon.
As her jeans came off I saw that her full, round buttocks were encased in tight clingy black satin. I wasted no more time in getting out of my own clothes so that I could lie down beside her. My hands were all over her, gripping her behind her neck and roughly jamming her lips onto mine, massaging her breasts, grabbing handfuls of her smooth satin-clad buttocks or pushing that flimsy material up into her already soaking wet crack with my fingers. I wanted her so badly that I didn't know what to do first. I wanted to rub my cock between her breasts and fill her cleavage with my spunk, but I wanted to save my load for her cunt. Or her mouth. Or her arsehole. I wanted it all and I told her so.
Heather didn't miss a beat from the energetic wanking she was treating me to. She just smiled and said gently "Well, you'll just have to save those other things till later on".
I decided what I wanted. Delectable as they were, the knickers were going to have to come off: I needed to taste her.
I laid on by side with my face nestling in her crotch. Heather was on her back with one leg resting on my shoulder and the other off the edge of the bed somewhere. I licked up and down her juicy crevice, circled her clit with my tongue and sucked her plump labia into my mouth. My thumb was probing inside her cunt and a wetted finger traced across her perineum and around her arsehole before pushing inside.
Heather, meanwhile was alternately wanking and blowing me while pulling and twisting at my nipples. She was going at it so hard I had to pull away a little to stop me coming right there and then: I was going to lick her to orgasm and then, and only then, she was going to get a cuntful of my spunk.
To come and not to be able to close her legs is sweet torture for her; I know that, and I know her orgasm is all the more intense for it, so I held her legs apart as she struggled and twisted on the bed until at last she gave out a protracted wail and went limp on the bed. Without giving her a chance to catch her breath, I was on her, bearing down on her, subduing her and penetrating her. My face wore a sticky mask of her juices and I pressed it up against hers as I fucked her.
She crossed her legs behind my back and pulled at my nipples with renewed fury and I let go with all that I had, straining to get as deep inside her as I could in those final moments.
And then we were lying side by side, flushed and exhausted.
"The good thing about having a fuck so early in the evening" Observed Heather, languidly. "Is that we still have time to do all the things we need to do, then we can go to bed and do it all again".
And that's the last thing I remember until I woke up again, way past midnight.
Oh well, I could still get used to early-evening fucks.
As long as it lasts.
Another pic from our holidays: The glorious Sussex Downs
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