Window Guy

Daylight roused them slowly, the sun streaming in the window directly behind the bed. He rolled over towards her, warm, cozy, blankets deliciously tangled in his legs. She smiled at him, looking at his dark hair pointing every which way. She tussled his hair, running her fingers through them.

She gazed at him, thinking in wonderment - he a couple years out of college, 6 years older than her son, but 18 years younger than her. She enjoyed his trim, youthful body, and he paid her back by being her perfectly matched lover. Their bodies fit well together, their proportions perfect, empathetic to a fault, both able to read the other accurately only weeks after meeting. She loved him through and through, unable to think of the day that he'd find someone his own age, in the same life stage as him, childless but wanting one. That inevitability pierced her torso, and her smile faded.

He drew her towards him, breaking her thought, his hands gently holding her neck, her auburn hair covering his fingers. They kissed a "cheek kiss", turning away from each other, careful not to breath, smiling as they tried to spare the other their morning breath. Morning, he smiled, then frowned. You okay?, he asked, peering into her eyes. Fine, she replied, truthfully, for she'd put those other thoughts aside. I don't believe you, he said, but I have to go pee.

He flashed that grin that melted her heart and sprang up, throwing the covers aside. I'll be right back, he said, and started towards the bathroom. He turned, flexing like a body builder, arms curved, his leg bent, his face turning red as he tensed, a slim caricature of the big weightlifter types. She couldn't help but laugh, and he smiled, happy, in his little triumph. He turned and rushed to the bathroom. She listened to him, and when he finished, she got up to join him. A few seconds later she appeared next to him, smiling, her toothbrush hiding her teeth. They brushed, making faces at each other, then rinsed, side by side, and he went back while she took her nature's break. She ran back to the bed, jumping onto him, letting the bed bounce them to stillness.

The sudden activity, after a long sleep, forced them to catch their breath. She moved around a bit, rubbing her breasts against his chest, kissing him, kissing his neck, lips brushing his ears. I think you're okay, he giggled, uh, you seem fine to me. She laughed, a playful slap on his shoulder. He jumped up, surprising her, standing on the bed. Grrrr! he growled, his arms high overhead, then he jumped, pouncing on her, careful to land on his arms and legs and not her body. Again, their bodies bounced, just a bit more than before.

They laughed, and he buried his face in her neck, growling, nipping her with his teeth. She squealed and pushed him away. He paused, panting a bit. I think Big Foot is tired now, he declared. But I have a feeling he'll need to procreate, he said, grinning. Oh, is that so, she asked. Well you know, it's important to keep the species alive, and you know, if he is this tired, he might get killed by a tiger or something tomorrow. So procreation is pretty important to him right now, he concluded. She rolled her eyes. God, I can't believe I listen to this, she smiled.

He lay on top of her, holding her, kissing her to quiet her down. She kissed back hungrily, slithering down, lining up his hard penis to her lips. Her trim 5'3" body enjoyed feeling him deep inside of her, and for some reason, she enjoyed her orgasms with him inside of her the most. He lined up at her entrance and entered her, a little dry, but, like normal, her juices quickly lubricated their lovemaking. She sucked in her breath as he pressed into her; she started to move with him.

For the longest time, he had always felt like the guy always got the better deal when it came to sex - a woman's orgasm seemed so tame to his. But when he met her, it changed. For the first time, he felt like she got more out of it, and this both puzzled and amazed him. This morning was just a confirmation of that initial experience. At first, her movements weren't too frantic, just a natural seconding of his thrusting. But as she got more and more turned on, she'd start to force the pace, dictating it. Her breathing would get ragged, and she'd close her eyes, scrunching in concentration as she bathed in the sensation. Her hands would clench into little fists, pressing down beside her, then relaxing, pausing for the next wave of pleasure.

He watched her, almost just along for the ride. Her wetness, now abundant, lubricated their junction, and she eased up, pulling her knees up, her legs spread. His youthful body, wanting desperately to meld with her, accelerated, his hips alternating thrusting with deep pauses inside of her.

He pulled her up, his 5'7" body strong enough to move her around like a doll, positioning her to his desires. But after a few positions, he just wanted to be close to her, and reverted to just holding her tight to him. His biggest dilemma, it seemed, was whether he should cross his arms behind her or to hold her with his forearms parallel to each other. Or, sometimes, his hands under her rear end, he'd just pull her hips into his, burying himself as deep as possible inside of her. And this morning, this is what he wanted, to become one with her. He looked up and noticed the clock, its red letters displaying 9:47. An vague thought crossed his mind, but he quickly returned to the scene in front of him - he quickly forgot about it.

He moved side to side, then in and out, then paused. She smiled at him. Having fun?, she asked, giggling. Ha. Ha. Ha. he replied, breaking into giggles. His expression changed, anxiety flashing. Wait, he said, don't laugh, you're pushing me out. She burst out laughing, and sure enough, her powerful muscles started forcing him out. He grabbed her hips hard, squeezing with his fingers, and thrust as hard as he could. He could feel her the tip of her IUD poking the head of his penis. How ironic, he thought, every time I'm close, I'm large enough to hit her IUD, and it hurts! But he thrust on, slamming into her, enjoying the combination of agression and sexuality. She, too, enjoyed it, allowing him to do what he wanted with her body.

Then suddenly, the doorbell rang. He looked at her, panicked. Are you expecting anyone? he asked, frantic. No, she said, searching her mind. Oh shit, the window guy. He's supposed to do the windows this morning at 10! Um, you can't cancel, can you?, he asked. No, but give me a second, she replied. She sprang into action, grabbing a robe, running to the door, opening it, then turning, shushing him, telling him not to move. She closed the door and went downstairs. He heard the murmuring of some talking, and he started wondering what he'd do. All his clothes were downstairs in his duffle bag, and he couldn't simply walk downstairs. He thought about it and realized there was only one thing to do, so he did. He pulled the covers over him and closed his eyes. If necessary, he could hide here, like a kid, under the blankets, just pretending to be an unmade bed.

Before he got too carried away with that thought, she came back upstairs and started running the shower. He could still hear the guy downstairs, whistling as he did whatever he did. She came in, a mischievous look on her face. C'mon, she said, get up. When's he going to leave, he asked, a little worried. Well, he's going to have to do the upstairs windows eventually, but I told him to do the downstairs ones first. I told I was going to take a shower, so c'mon, let's get into the shower.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bathroom, her finger to her lips, quieting him. Laughing quietly, he followed her lead, tip-toeing to the bathroom, even dashing across the top of the stairs after a peek to make sure the coast was clear. He almost tripped over his dufflebag. He looked up, questioning, and looking back, she whispered, I brought it up for you, you don't have anything up here to wear. She's always thinking, he thought, shaking his head imperceptibly.

They got in the shower, letting the water soak them, taking turns under the stream of water. They soaped each other, the thick lather everywhere, the steam obscuring their vision. Her hand found his penis and started to caress it. He quivered, sensitive even normally, and now, having been so close, even more so. He ran his hand between her legs, rubbing her labia, then stroking her ass, fingering it. Her hand stopped, her eyes closed, and she sighed. Gotcha, he said, taking his hand away. You bastard, she said, laughing. What do you want, she asked. Turn around, he said. She did, and leaned over, bracing her hands against the shower wall. He carefully angled into her, then started thrusting, but the water was hitting him directly in front. Wait, turn around, he asked, and she did.

He got back inside of her, standing to one side so the water would sooth her back, and he started to thrust into her cunt. His fingers dug into her hips as he held her tightly, hips moving, clenching his teeth. He wasn't the only one back in the rhythm - her breath came out in gasps with each thrust, and he felt himself close again. He dropped one hand down and found her labia, her clit, and started to stroke her. She started to gasp but he stopped, leaning over her.

Quietly, he whispered in her ear, water streaming by. Can I, he questioned. Yes, yes, she understood, put it in. He straightened up and withdrew, then angled his cock up just a bit. The tighter entryway looked inviting, and he started pressing his overly hard cock into it. He watched the head of his penis start to penetrate her ass, then it dropped in. She gasped, pushing back, and he slid into her, a flash of worry for her. But she pressed back hard and buried him to the hilt right away, groaning just a bit. They paused. I know why Big Foot is so rare, he said. What?, she turned.

He impregnates the wrong hole. Oh, jeepers, she groaned, quickly stopping as he started to thrust, pressing downward as he moved, letting the bottom of his cock rub the thin wall between her vagina and her ass. She started breathing harder, her head down in concentration, her arms stretched out. He'd grab her hips, thrust hard a few times, then grab the front of her thighs, then the backs of her cheeks, moving his hands around, the whole time buried deep inside of her. His legs were fatiguing, but he could feel her breathing getting ragged and he rallied, pumping his cock in and out of her.

Her ass started to loosen just a bit, and he could move quicker now, freer. She was breathing quite hard, and there were gaps in her breathing as she tensed, her face reddening, pausing, only to keep breathing. It turned him on immeasurably to see her so excited, and he hovered on the edge of his orgasm, pausing whenever he got super close. Then he'd start again. The water drummed both into his back, on one side, and her back, and he could see her hair hanging past her head, dripping water. Their hips slapped together, loudly sometimes, and he hoped the water would obscure the sounds before they reached downstairs.

He reached down, spreading her thighs, pulling on them, then, placing his fingers just to the outside of her lips, he spread her open, planting his index fingers in her, spreading her even wider. He drew his fingers up and out, towards her clit, and she tensed. She gasped, putting her hand on top of his. His fingers penetrated her, and he pressed against his penis through the fleshy wall separating the two penetrating digits. He moved his fingers away, eliciting a small cry from her.

He straightened up, grabbing her hair, her shoulders, moving his hands, settling finally on her hips. He started to thrust harder and harder, deep in her ass, and he started to arch back, the water now showering his head, the water flowing down his chest, over his nipples, and down past his stomach. It was the sensation over his nipples that put him over the edge, and he started his final effort, thrusting quickly, his eyes closed.

He could feel her fingers, fluttering over her clit, rubbing frantically, and then that deep pelvic tension washed over him, his whole body going rigid, his hands wrenching her hips into his, his cock buried to the hilt. Then, as he started to melt, his insides just aching to be release, he felt the familiar "squeeze-squeeze-squeeze" as she came, her ass clenching his cock. She moaned in release, and then, before she could finish, he started to cum deep inside of her, holding the tension inside, not breathing. Then the white hot spurts, one following another, delicious tension building between each one, only to be released deep inside of her.

He gasped, his chest heaving, and he leaned forward, using her to hold himself up. Oh my God, he breathed, panting on her back. You enjoy that, she asked, a smile across her face. She kissed him. Boy, you really needed that, she observed. He just wanted to lay down, and he started to slide off to one side, holding himself up with his arms. She giggled under him. Stop! he warned, but it was too late and she ejected his softening penis.

Wash up, she said, straightening up, reaching for soap. I wonder if he heard, he asked. Um, well, first we better get out of here, he's going to wonder why I've taken such a long shower. They stood close to one another, each washing the other's sensitive skin, erasing signs of their lovemaking. Only her swollen labia and reddened skin betrayed her body, but wrapping a towel around her breasts, they disappeared from view.

They got out, sneaking back to the bedroom, and they dressed. She merely threw a robe on, a towel wrapped around her head. He dressed in his jeans and t-shirt, trying to dry his hair as best he could with the towel, failing miserably. She went downstairs and steered the window man off to the right, towards the living room window that "needed special attention". He quickly descended the stairs and went left, plopping into the couch in front of the TV. He turned it on, sat back, and tried to look like he belonged. She came in the other way, having circled the first floor. The window man walked in behind her, looked up, and stopped in surprise. His jaw dropped, his eyes round, seeing but not quite comprehending the whole scene.

Oh, she said, this is my friend, and introduced them. The window man's jaw never quite closed, and he quietly looked from one to the other. He mumbled a greeting and trundled off to do the upstairs, looking back a final time before he went up the stairs. They burst out in school children giggles. He knows, he said. She looked at him with a gleam in her eye. So? she asked, smiling. You want breakfast?