Morning Glory

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An alternative breakfast choice leads to a satisfying day.
720 words
4.13
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The sound of spray from the shower on the other side of the bedroom wall awakened him. He lit a cigarette, took two deep drags and extinguished it. Sporting a morning erection, he decided to join his wife in the shower to advantage themselves of what Mother Nature had provided.

Donning a terrycloth robe, somewhat tented in front, he made his way around the corner, only to find her, hair wrapped in a towel, leaving the bathroom. She said, "I'm going to do my yoga; meet you for breakfast in fifteen minutes?"

He flashed a frustrated smile and murmured, "Sure," then stepped past his wife and entered the shower stall, hanging his robe on the hook outside.

As he lathered and rinsed the several parts of his body, in precisely the same order he'd followed since his very first shower as a young boy, he found his ardor for her growing stronger. In their eight years of marriage, there had been no dampening of the flame of passion between them, and both knew they shared the rare gifts of total commitment and constant physical attraction.

He emerged from the shower, dried himself, brushed his teeth and, after having slicked back his short, military-cut hair, shaved unhurriedly. Toweling off, he splashed on a dash of cologne and, his nether friend still rampant and fixated, headed to the den.

Turning the corner, he beheld her standing motionless on her head, naked but for the towel-turban on her hair. He stopped momentarily; then he saw her inverted wink and went over to her and gently prised her legs apart. She remained unmoving; he bent from the waist and placed his mouth over her vulva, the source of so many past and future delights, and parted her with his tongue, noticing the vaguely soapy taste, fragrant with the Palmolive she always used. Sharpening his tongue, he traced the groove between her inner and outer lips, poking it quickly into the vestibule of her vagina, then around between the other pair. She lowered her thighs to his shoulders and flexed her knees, placing her arches alongside his head, and gently pulled his face against her.

Encouraged by the sudden pressure, he began to lance his tongue into her rapidly, moving his hands to her round, firm cheeks and kneading them deeply. Gasping, "OhGodthatfeelsgood!" from the thrills he was giving her, she raised herself up with her arms, freeing her head from supporting her weight, and bucked back against his mouth, hard. She wanted him to fuck her badly, but she knew she just HAD to get her first climax from his exquisitely-probing tongue. And there it was! Crying out from the overpowering pleasure she felt between her legs, she shuddered violently as the waves of feeling coursed through her.

The convulsions which wracked her body caused her thighs to slip off his shoulders, and he caught them with his forearms, lowering her knees to the floor, then slid his between hers and entered her, pre-come pouring from him and joining her juices, with which she was sopping wet. Already flagrantly aroused, he grasped her thighs from behind and thrust vigorously into her, not wishing to let her come down at all from her orgasm, but fiercely wanting to join her in another. He clenched his teeth and drove ever harder into his wife, leaning over her and pulling on her shoulder with his chin to force himself even deeper into her. She allowed her chest to fall to the floor, the better to feel the powerful thrusts being put to her, and closed her eyes tightly as her second climax blasted her soul out into interstellar space. Her cervix convulsed repeatedly against the swelling head of his cock and he roared his delight as he squirted his warm come into her; she smiled subconsciously as she felt him ejaculate deep within her. Unable to hold himself upright, he collapsed on top of her and nestled his face in the crook of her neck.

When they were again capable of movement, they uncoupled and sat there on the floor, smiling wearily at each other.

"Let's both call in sick and go back to bed!" he suggested. She frowned disapprovingly (but not TOO disapprovingly) at him, then crawled over to the table where the telephone was...

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