The clock is ticking – 1

oldart2A week after we came back from our holiday in the south of France I had an irate call from Anna.

“The fucking son-of-a-bitch is trying to get permanent, sole custody of the girls. Can you believe it?” she bellowed into the phone.
“He’ll have to prove that you are an unfit mother, and can’t provide a stable home environment first. And I don’t think he can do that. Can he?” I replied.
“Of course he can’t. I have a generous income from my property portfolio, plus the money I inherited, and I still work for a living.  And even if I gave up the work to be a full time mum, I’d be making more than enough to pay for that fancy private school he’s sending them to.”
“So you’ve no need to worry.”

At the end of fifteen minutes she’d calmed down a little. “Sorry darling, I didn’t ask how you were. It’s been a while since we met up. How about Saturday before I collect the girls? Come for breakfast. Or better still I’ll come to you. About nine, okay?”

*

I had the iron frame of the bed above my head in a death grip, the mattress bouncing beneath me.
His eyes were wide, teeth bared in a lust frozen grin as his powerful rugby players hips pushed his penis right to the back of my vagina battering against my cervix.

Even though we’d been having sex twice a day for nearly three weeks – after the foreplay and the kissing and the fingering and the cunnilingus that had be climbing the walls, he still fucked with the urgent enthusiasm of a horny teenager. That’s not to say he had a hair-trigger, he could keep up a constant rhythm for a solid twenty minutes, long enough for this girl to scream for God and cum at least one and a half times.
That morning we were about ten minutes in, when I heard a noise that wasn’t the sound of the bed hopping up and down on the floor.

“Wait,” I gasped, “I can hear something.”
He ground his hips round and round. “There’s nothing,” he said.
The banging started again. “Someone is knocking at the door,” I said.
“Well, let them knock. When we don’t answer they’ll think we’re out. And if it’s urgent, I’m sure they’ll come back.”

He stared to slide in and out of me again, just as the banging started up, even louder.
I grabbing hold of his hips to try and stop his movement. “I think its Anna. She’s coming for breakfast, but she’s early.”

“Well she can fucking well piss off, or wait till we’re done,” he growled.
“We can’t do that. I did invite her, and we can always take this up again later.”
“You’re kidding?” I looked up into his face I could see the primeval desire struggling with his civilised, caring side. I understood it. He was hard up inside his wife, and possession was nine tenths of the law. He could have pinned me there till he’d finished, and I would have liked nothing better than to see that look on is face as he shot his hot sperm up inside me.

“Okay. You win,” he said reluctantly, pulling out and rolling onto his side.
I kissed him full on the mouth. “Thanks, handsome. I’ll make it up to you later.”

“I was starting to think you were out,” Anna said when I opened the door.
Her eyes took in my dressing gown. “Did I drag you out of bed? I hope I didn’t disturb anything.”
“No, we were-,” I began
“Yes you did,” said a voice from the bottom of the stairs.
He walked across the carpet, his shirt open exposing his solid torso and hairy chest, wound his big arms around her and gave a big kiss on the lips.
“Morning to you to handsome,” Anna said, looking a little surprised at the unusual depth of the kiss.
I covered a smile with my hand, realising that he’d intentionally kissed her on the mouth with the same unwashed lips and tongue he’d only recently been playing up and down on my clitoris.

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