Saturday Morning

No Fair.  She cheats.  My wife Angela doesn’t play by the rules, and sooner or later she is going to have to pay for her misdeeds!

I mean, just last weekend while we were away by ourselves, a time meant for some serious R & R, she pulled a fast one on me, did something out-of-bounds that neither one of us is going to forget.  I’d had a rough night, awakening with a couple of bizarre nightmares, not helped by the uncomfortable motel bed.  Of course, when I did wake up for good I still had the beautiful taste of her sweet love on my tongue from last night’s cunnilingus, and I had a feeling tonight would be just as fun.  For breakfast we soaked together in the heart-shaped jacuzzi drinking motel coffee and eating store-bought bakery sweets, letting the stresses of our real lives get massaged away by the whirlpool.

Then I settled in for a long morning of crossword puzzles.  That’s how I relax.  No life and death decisions to make, no patients to offend, no family finances to manage; all I have to do is think about some clues and guess what the puzzle-writer is thinking.  Every Sunday afternoon at home the whole family knows:  Don’t you dare interrupt Dad while he’s doing the Sunday Crossword.  So now the thought of relaxing with a whole bookful of crosswords to finish was making my mouth water.  And so, still nude from the tub, I sat down in one of the soft motel armchairs by the table lamp, flipped the pages to what turned out to be a pleasantly challenging puzzle, and turned my attention to a Six-letter Word for Greyhound Goal.

Chris, let’s talk.  Mmmmm, okay Angela, in a minute…

Chris, don’t you think we should spend a little time connecting?   Sure, sure, Angela…

Chris, do you really want to write in that little puzzle instead of talking with your wife?  Sure, I mean no, Angela, but I’m doing a crossword.

Don’t you want to play a game or something?  You don’t want me to get bored, do you?  Angela, you can stop pouting now, you know we’ll have plenty of time to play cards and talk and even light some of your candles later if you want.  But right now I’m doing a crossword puzzle, and there is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing you can say to make me change my mind.

And with that, I picked up my pen, buried my nose in the puzzle book, and concentrated hard on the clues.  Usually I can finish a 150-clue puzzle in about 45 minutes, but only if the room is quiet.  And the room was now strangely very very quiet.  I glanced up, and saw that Angela had left the room.  Probably went for some ice down the hall.  Now, where was I…

Several clues later I heard soft footsteps.  I was planning to look up after writing in a rather long word, but before I could do that I felt fingernails on my thigh.  I sighed distractedly and raised my eyes and…WOW!  WOWEE!!!

In front of my stood the glorious form of my wife Angela, gazing deep into my eyes, breathing a little heavily, cheeks flushed, and wearing a lacy black negligee.  This wonderful woman, whom I love more than life itself, who gladly makes love to her husband clothed in a flannel nightgown, rarely wears makeup and dresses modestly always, was standing before me in a black lace see-through teddy with a ribbon holding the front together and her cleavage calling out to me and her little belly button peeking through and long flouncy sleeves that somehow looked sexier than spaghetti straps would have and a little black lace matching panty and…wow!  My mouth must have been gaping open for awhile, for when the sound of my pen bouncing on the floor brought me to my senses I noticed drool forming on my chin and beard.

I swear, I have not seen my wife in a negligee like this since our third anniversary (when she informed me not to buy her any more of them because they made her feel too conspicuous), in fact, it probably was the very same one I bought her back in 1984.

You just keep doing your puzzle Chris, I know you can’t be distracted, and with that she knelt before me, leaned against my knees, and started licking my penis.  The licks were soon followed by pinches and slurps and wet kisses and  ball-scratching and moans from Angela, and an occasional spoken reminder to keep solving my puzzle.

Um, okay, uh, Four-letter Word meaning Vaulter’s Need.  Vaulter’s need? That’s easy, Chris: Pole.  And without further ado she took my own rigid shaft of a Vaulter’s Need and swallowed it deeply into her throat, humming and tonguing me and sucking in a luscious rhythm, biting it as she took me in and out and in and out, down down down…

As I say:  No Fair.  She never wears a negligee.  She never deep-throats me.  Oh I tried valiantly to keep filling in words–after I’ll, I had in fact said I could not be distracted.  But when Angela started to play with my rear end and pinch my nipples as she sucked my erection the crossword book slid to the floor and my hands groped foreword to her bosoms as if possessed by a mind of their own.

I see I’ve got your Full Attention Now, Chris, and after a final slurp Angela stood up, straddled the cushy armchair, pointed my pole to the ceiling and mounted me in one lusty movement like she was an animal in heat or something, just pushed aside the skinny crotch of her lacy see-through underpants, crouched over my groin, and lowered herself smoothly onto my very pleased hard-on, then started rising and descending, twisting up and down my cock like it was a phallic peppermint stick.  Again I say, Wow!!!  With her feet on the ground she was a bird in flight, with her fist holding tight to my…oh, never mind.  The point is, she was in total control, I was–quite willingly–helpless while she directed rhythm, penetration, angle of contact, depth of French kisses and pressure of her clit grinding against my pelvis.  Her ensuing climax was a well-choreographed work of art, beautiful and thrilling to behold, my words cannot describe the joy it gives me to watch her face contort and her skin glow pink from her face down to her breasts and to feel the muscles in her womb start to contract around my manhood and to sense the convulsions quivering through her whole body.

I am neither a young man nor a strong one, but somehow I managed to rise from the chair with my sweetheart still impaled on my engorged phallus, turn her around so she was seated in the armchair, and raise her legs so her ankles were wrapped around my neck.  With my hands resting on the chair arms and her legs in the air, with my penis buried deeply inside her vagina, somehow this was actually…comfortable.  We must have looked like a couple of mating pretzels, and we’d never tried a position like this before, maybe the height and sitting angle of the chair were just right or maybe the black lace had me so turned on I was feeling no pain, but this really felt Good!

I was driving into her womanhood hard and fast now, and the visual effect of the panty lace on one side of her pussy next to my thick wet penis as it plunged in and out of her was a new experience for me.  I could feel the fabric chafing slightly against my sensitive penile skin, very different, not at all unpleasant, what a sensation!

I found I could easily balance my chest against her upwardly thrust thighs and still make love hands-free without falling in a heap, and so I took the opportunity to unlace her bodice and do some nipple work.  Angela moaned loudly and encouraged me to roughly squeeze her breasts and then directed one hand down to her clit and presently another round of orgasms was quaking through my bride’s wondrously created female body and causing her to writhe left and right in the armchair and then press deeper into the cushion and then wrap her ankles even tighter around my back as I continued my pumping and humping and finally after her fourth or fifth climax she reached up between her silky sweating thighs and grabbed my nipples between her teeth, biting and sucking and sending wild sensations throughout my own happily married body and setting off a thunderous climax in my loins as I thrust in and out and squirted and pumped and loved my wife with every drop of semen left in me.

In the afterglow I gently withdrew from my bride’s sex, tugged off her lacy garments, and half-carried her the short distance to the bed, whereupon our satisfied naked bodies settled together for a late morning nap.  Now I really was tired!

She fell asleep with an inappropriately smug grin on her face.  Oh, she knew she had cheated at our little game, she knew all along that I’d be defenseless against tactics not seen since the 1980’s.  And as I say, sooner or later, when she least expects it, she will surely have to pay for her misdeeds.