The complaining groan from the ancient hinges on the oak door brings me to morning consciousness and I smell perfume and hear the rustle of soft fabric. The decorated duvet and sheets are lifted and you slide in. You kiss me. "Happy birthday brother-in-law." You enjoy a brief struggle with the garment you are wearing then discard it to the floor. "I couldn't think what to get you for your birthday and so..."
I am aware of your hand on my cock through the slit in my pyjamas and you are tongue kissing and whispering. You gently pull back my foreskin exposing the sensitive head, and slowly, agonisingly, swirl it against the palm of your hand. You stare, shiver, give a nervous giggle. My body becomes rigid. What you are doing, tramples dangerously all over the fine lines that separate ecstasy and guilt.
I am tempted to lie back and let you have it your way but now, fully awake, I decide this is not what I want just yet. I am not going to let you distract or rush me. I twist my body under the sheets so my cock is out of the reach of your wicked hands, rid myself of the pyjamas, and move myself down so I can begin enjoying one of my pleasures – sucking and licking the lady's area to be invaded.
You wriggle and writhe and make the customary female remonstrations, try to push me on to my back so that you can continue to tease my aroused cock. We struggle, arms and legs wrestling, each trying to get the upper hand, each of us intent on taking the dominant role. I am the stronger and, after some playful punching, on top of you. You react instinctively but I force your legs apart and as sudden bright sunlight, released by the clouds, crosses the floor from the window and across the heaving bed, I get an even better view of your inviting and wet labial lips already glistening from my oral attention.
I push myself down between your legs and, pressing fingers against the labial lips, declare what you asked for you are going to get. I stare into your excited eyes and pause – pausing long enough for your approving reply - then allow myself that unmatched pleasure of sliding the male erection into a woman. As I expect, your body immediately responds and your sharp intake of breath confirms my cock is engulfed in your hot and wet sex centre. "Oh darling, aren't we wicked." Another gasp. "Barbara is just so lucky having you."
Determined to demonstrate my prowess, I start to slide in and out enjoying the feeling of muscles trying to grip and hold my cock. I pull slowly almost out and pause as I like to invite the woman to view her loaded invader before pressing back in again. You move your arms across my back and - using words that sound strange from your lips – compliment me and tell me to make good on my promise.
Conscious of your obvious enjoyment, hearing your sighs, I move rhythmically as you thrust against me. Your embrace, relaxed then tight - relaxed then tight, tells me you want me right inside you at the end of each stroke. Your heartbeat quickens and I hear your breathing become faster and more urgent. I relish the thought that you want nothing less than a powerful completion.
You moan, call out my name, repeating it louder, then louder, wrapping your legs around me trying to force me even deeper. I feel your nails rake across my back and your sharp teeth sink into my shoulder, then, without warning, you clasp your hands and tighten your hold, twisting your legs and crossing your feet. I guess what is coming. Using all your strength you roll and push me over on to my back, your arms and legs still wrapped around me so my cock stays buried inside you.
Without missing a stroke you are kneeling on top of me with my cock still held firmly inside. Startled by this change in position to the dominant, feeling the labial lips pressing around the base of my cock, I am awakened to the realisation that my wife has a secret and talented whore for a sister. I look up and see you above me, your eyes shut, sighing, your head back, your bare breasts bouncing as you ride me, my cock sliding in and out of a smooth cunt.
The antique four poster bed is creaking like a galleon in a sea storm and you are now devouring my cock with your cunt, driving down on me in slow spaced movements, totally concentrated on sexual ecstasy. The head rubs against something deep inside you causing an electric sensation and, wanting to prolong the pleasure, we halt, staring at each other, taking in deep breathes.
My wife may have revealed – or hinted - in sisterly conversations how I like it; how I believe sex should be for the woman: warm wet lips, a cunt hot, wet and tight, ready for intromission and prepared for the proof of fecundity. Barbara, compliant and accepting of her role, appreciative of the many rewards of marriage, has little though of the hedonist unlike her sister. You are a revelation and I am amazed now that your husband left you for another woman. Could it be he was unable to satisfy you and you are taking this opportunity to offer yourself to obvious machismo? Observation I might guess had established my credentials.
The pause over, I see the beads of sweat start to form on your forehead, your hips thrusting and grinding against me. I sense an urgency, the heat and moisture in your cunt inviting the climax. I see no need to hold back any longer. My cock is throbbing and you are primed and ready. I hear it in your moans, I see it in your face, your body tensing as you sense the semen building. A couple more thrusts and I will have the ineffable satisfaction of delivering. It is every woman's honour and pleasure to be the receptacle for the male generative power.
You ram your hips against mine and I push back burying my cock as deep as it will go inside you and pause. Your pelvis rises in a muscular spasm but I follow, lifting my buttocks from the bed and hold myself there, revelling in the invading force of the first hot spurt. You explode in an intense orgasm. Your loud gasping moans sound like our manor house ghost and I am pumping until I am empty, still feeling you squeezing, sucking, wanting more. We are both drained, exhausted, my cock and your cunt too sensitive to continue.
You collapse on top of me, your breasts pressed against my chest, my proof of manhood declining until it slips out. I can feel your heart pounding and hear your breaths echoing in the high stone ceiling. Conscious of a warm wetness on my thighs, some of my semen mixing with your juices running down to form a stain on the sheets, I am aware this morning's passion is likely to trigger dangerous speculation. I must get you to change the bed and put the sheets into the washing machine before I collect my wife from the hospital with the latest addition to our family.