Fag-Break Fuck

(Note: For any readers in the USA, in English English a fag means a cigarette. This has doubtless caused no end of transatlantic misunderstandings over the years).

Sunday morning. Ok, if I’m absolutely honest, Sunday morning on the cusp of becoming Sunday afternoon. We’ve had a load of late nights lately. Suddenly I was awake and so was Heather beside me. She more awake than me apparently, for she had heard the door of the spare bedroom along the corridor open softly, and a gentle footfall on the stairs, going down.

“If we’re quick we can have a Fakta-Fuck while he’s out having his cigarette”, she whispered. Call us fascists if you like; we don’t have many rules in our household. The kids have always been free to bring back (and shag on occasions) anyone they liked to the house but the one absolute rule we have is of no smoking in the house, and that’s all there is to it. If they want to smoke – and unfortunately they both do – they must do it in the yard. On this occasion we leapt on the chance of Son being out of the house, even though it was only for five minutes.

With daughter having moved out of the house just before Christmas, a new golden age of carefree sex wherever and whenever we desired seemed to beckon. This was brought to an abrupt end last week when Son’s GF threw him out of the flat they share in the city, at least for the duration of her university exams. It is a small flat with not too much privacy and they were starting to get on each other’s nerves, so son has moved back with us. Originally only for a couple of days, but those couple of days have magically become a week and counting.

This, coupled with a whole crop of late nights over the last week has meant that we haven’t been getting very much lately, so the duration of a smoke where we would be undisturbed seemed like too good a chance to pass up.

Heather just had to pop out to the bathroom and when she got back I was all ready, kneeling up with my little soldier standing to attention and the tasteful pink fuck-towel spread out on the sheet.

“Assume the position” I commanded. Heather clambered up onto the bed on all fours, her bum jutting up into the air, her cunt lips parted and protruding back between her thighs, already glistening with moisture. There was no time for formalities. I spat on my hand, wetted my cock and just rammed it into her, pushing hard against her as she pushed back onto me. Of course, I would have liked to have given her a good licking first, to have paddled my fingers inside her and to have slipped one inside her sweet, tight little arsehole so that I could feel the head of my cock as I fucked her, but in my mind’s eye I could see that cigarette slowly burning down. Fortunately, Heather was wet and slick despite the cold start – or maybe she had been lying awake for a while, thinking wicked thoughts? So I just banged her hard and relentlessly until we reached the inevitable conclusion,

Only just in time. As we fell apart from each other, giggling like schoolkids and trying to mop up the worst of the mess, we heard once again the gentle footfall on the stairs and the soft closing of the door.