"Squirt it into Me..."

I prop my bicycle up against the inside wall of the porch, slip my key into the lock of the front door and let myself in.

I am breathing heavily. Sweating. It was all uphill.

I divest myself of my backpack dumping it on the table in the hallway and then walk into the large L-shaped lounge and dining room.

I slip my work jacket off and place it around the back rest of one of the dining chairs.

I become aware of activity from the kitchen -- Sharon must be home early.

I fancy a cup of tea, so I head for the kitchen.

As I enter the room, I find myself becoming aroused which is odd since my libido seems to have been fading recently.

Sharon is at the sink and hasn't heard me. Or has pretended not to hear me.

She is wearing jeans and a navy-blue sleeveless top. Her chestnut hair, rich and lustrous as ever, hangs halfway down her back.

Her bare white arms, which are liberally spotted with small moles, move industriously, scrubbing each plate, placing it noisily in the rack before repeating the action with another piece of crockery or cutlery.

I feel my erection straining against the fabric of my trousers -- I want her. Want her badly.

I imagine Sharon in hot pants and a flimsy revealing top with thigh length black leather boots plying her trade as a hooker on the streets of New York City.

I steal up behind her, put my arms around her slim waist, brush her hair gently away from her neck and then kiss it.

I expect her to flinch, but she doesn't. Instead, she tilts her head to expose more of her slender neck.

Her arms stop working and I press my body hard up against her -- I need her to know that I am aroused and ready to take her, take her roughly if needs be.

My hands travel up beneath her top and slip her bra off. Her nipples are hard.

I squeeze her breasts and knead her protuberant nipples.

I pull her top off and cast aside her bra -- her torso is still in good shape, and she is forty-five now.

I quickly unbutton her jeans and pull them down to her ankles along with her black lace panties -- she does not resist but simply says: "You know it is my period..."

"I know, and you know that I don't care, don't give a fuck."

She is naked and vulnerable in front of me, her elbows resting on the edge of the sink -- provoking me to take her. Take her hard. Roughly.

I strip swiftly myself, tossing my clothes to the doorway.

I move to her and feel for the string of the tampon -- she has given herself up totally to my animal lust now.

I pull the bloody and swollen sanitary pad from her swollen vagina and lob it accurately into the bin.

I grab hold of the tops of her arms and in a kind of slow-motion judo move I bring her body, shoulder blade first, down onto the cold lino of the kitchen floor. Where I grab her wrists and pull her slender arms behind her head. I then penetrate her even tighter than normal cunt with my rock-hard cock.

It feels dirty, a little depraved... but fucking good.

I start pumping hard straightaway.

I do not care if she climaxes. She either will or she won't. She exists purely for my gratification.

Her normally pale cheeks begin to flush, and her nostrils seem to flare with each forceful thrust of my cock.

She begins to groan loudly now -- I thrust harder and deeper. Faster.

I clench her wrists even tighter, pull her arms out further and observe her grit her teeth and screw up her eyes as I feel the powerful contractions of her inner muscles as she climaxes and shouts out: "GO ON, SQUIRT IT INTO ME, YOU BASTARD -- GIVE ME A BABY!" And then with intense pleasure I orgasm shooting my sperm deep inside of her...

I slump down satiated onto her perspiring and heavily breathing frame, letting go of her thin wrists.

"Fuck me! That was good, Sharon. I really needed that."

"Me too. I need to be taken roughly at times, especially during my period, makes it exciting... primal... but you can get up now, you're heavy."

"Oops, sorry."

I pull my prick out of her cunt. It is streaked with blood and spunk. I like that. Blood and spunk. Good title for a book I muse.

I feel great about us. It can only get better.

Primal...

I like that word too.

"Fancy a tea, Sharon?"

"Yes please," she says, bundling up her clothes and heading for the bathroom to clean up...