At the Edge of Dawn

"I think everybody is passed out sleeping."

"Shhh...you know they aren't. I can hear Harry bellowing about his latest stock market conquest. He can't be more than twenty feet away."

I lifted slightly in the hot tub and swivelled, seeing our neighbour on a lounge chair just as my wife had guessed. Some blonde I could not recognize was sprawled on the lounger next to him. Her arm was dangling toward the ground. From where I was she might well be passed out, but she still was a target for Harry's boasting.

All that investigation was a bit awkward, since three fingers of my left hand were buried to the bottom knuckles in my wife's twat, my baby finger holding her bikini bottom away from her hip. My thumb had just found her swollen clit, and I had been thumping it in that slow rhythm she loves, until she had tensed up in case someone noticed.

I could see the first edge of the sun sneaking over the far horizon, dawn was not far away. We were the only couple still in the hot tub, survivors of a neighbourhood celebration of spring. As host and hostess, we felt an obligation to be at least sober enough to deal with the cops if they got called, or to rescue anybody drunk enough to start drowning in our hot tub. It also meant we had to stay awake until the last drunk left or passed out, which meant pulling an all nighter. Luckily we had planned ahead and booked a caterer to deliver a hot "hangover remedy" breakfast around 9 Saturday morning.

The barbeque had included kids, and the families had all left early, around 9 p.m. or so. Then the real party had begun. The tubs of ice were refilled, and more beer produced. Shirts and skirts came off to reveal bikinis. The hot tub became party central.

My wife and I had hung back, slowly sipping our adult beverages, engaging our mutual voyeuristic streaks - guessing which housewife had her former paperboy's now eighteen year old fingers playing with her clit under the water; which couples might have slipped indoors to swap partners; which guys filled their trunks with meat that my wife got turned on by; which lush female lips would look best around my throbbing shaft. I preferred the Collins' Nordic au pair, my wife favoured the new Filipino maid who had just arrived to work for the Millers. That led us to speculate whether either or both couple was enjoying those barely legal nymphets.

By midnight, the crowd had thinned further, down to the hard partyers. Some drunk was sick in the downstairs powder room, another had spewed all over a rosebush. Whenever we went inside for ice or other supplies, we noticed bedroom doors shut. Simply scanning the crowd around and in the hot tub conformed that it was not always the established couples that were coupling.

At one point, I turned to my wife and asked, "do you ever wish it was you, getting a bit of strange cock to celebrate spring?"

"Don't you mean, eating Dot Miller's cunt while her hubby drills my ass?" she laughed, referring to our most obnoxiously randy neighbours, self professed swingers who had dropped heavy hints more than once. "No thanks."

There was a moment around 2:00 when it got so quiet we thought everybody was asleep or passed out, and started dumping Solo cups into trash bags, thinking we might get to bed by 3:00 or 4:00. Maybe I rattled the trash too loudly, because the still night air was punctured by a shout.

"You useless cocksucker." I recognized the voice as that of Nan Collins, super realtor, employer of the nubile au pair.

A crash resounded - something being thrown at her husband, Matt, I guessed. As he came running out the sliding patio door, ducking and weaving like the former all state wide receiver he was, I thought I detected the glint of fresh sperm on his chin. Apparently Matt really was a cocksucker, and Nan was upset about it.

Next, Nan was standing in the doorway, her surgically lifted tits heaving in her skimpy bikini top as she caught her breath. She grinned at me, embarrassed by her actions.

"All I ever asked was that he always share," she explained, "is that too much to ask?"

"I don't think so," I agreed. "Should I go check on him?"

"No, don't bother. Lianna is home watching the kids. She's probably sucking his cock by now - that always calms him down. I'll give them a few minutes to get started, then go join them."

Only then did I noticed that the clattering noise of the thrown pot or pan had startled half a dozen sleeping party guests awake, all of whom had just heard Nan's not so startling admissions. By the time I turned around, several of them were sliding back into the hot tub to warm up.

As I resumed cleaning, Nan ducked out the back fence gate toward her split level ranch style home. A few of the hot tubbers seemed to be getting cuddly, but I made a point of not interrupting their fun. I never did notice any guy slinking out of the house who might have been Matt's sperm donor.

By the time we had snared the last stray red plastic cup, the hot tub was empty again, and my wife and I had slid into the warmth, allowing us to relax aching muscles.

"Even after all these years, you are the one for me..." my wife murmured in my ear as she rested her head against my shoulder.

"Just me and the bubble jets," I chuckled.

"And our fertile imaginations, and Literotica..." she added. I felt her hip moving against my thigh. Her hand rose up and caressed my shoulder, her fingers lingering along my chin line. I could see that her top was gapping open, and her puffy brown nipple was aroused.

Before I had time to even decide whether to slip two fingers inside that gap to tweak her nub, I felt her fingers stroking my hardening shaft through my shorts.

"Better be careful or you'll wake up Ralphie Miller," I warned, knowing how she had trouble staying quiet when excited.

"I don't care - just make him jealous, stud," she giggled, lifting out of the water as she twisted and straddled my lap, leaving only two thin layers of fabric between our excited organs. She linked her arms behind my neck, tugging my mouth to hers. Her tongue parted my lips, swirling in first one cheek, and then the other. Her nipples were like diamonds, hard against the bare flesh of my chest.

She stayed there for a bit - I had no real sense if it was a minute, or five. Her hips wriggled, grinding her cunt against my thick member, like two kids making out after prom in Daddy's car. The fabric of her top shifted as her chest rubbed along my flesh, and eventually a tit popped free. I located one of my hands - still attached to the end of my arm, and remembered, despite my lack of sleep, how to cup that mound in my palm, my fingers kneading the weight, my thumb instinctively flicking her nipple until she was moaning into my mouth so hard she had to come up for air.

"I... need...you...to...fuck...me...hard...right...now..." her breath warmed my nose as she enunciated each word separately. "I don't care who hears or watches, for that matter."

Her pretty little nose crunched up like a rabbit's as she giggled. Her last comment surprised me. We shared voyeuristic streaks in common, but she had never been an exhibitionist. She playfully kissed my nose and giggled again, grinding her loins down extra hard on my aching cock.

"Oh, don't be an old fuddy duddy."

Before I had a chance to say anything, she rose up, slightly pushed her mouth against me, kissing me even more fiercely than she just had. My hands slid up the backs of her thighs, fingers slipping easily inside the fabric of her swimsuit, firmly cupping her buttocks. As she tried to settle her crotch against my cock, she found my middle finger teasing her swollen labia, pausing only briefly before easing between those lips to penetrate her cunt. She twisted excitedly.

"Well, after Nan's show, I doubt anybody cares what old faithfully boring married folks like us do," I finally replied as she broke the kiss, gasping as I located her clit and gave it a twirl.

"As great as this feels, it's not your finger that I want fucking me," she moaned.

One arm moved from behind my head, disappearing under the water. She twisted and turned expertly, shoulders moving hardly at all. Her actions would not be obvious to onlookers, unless they had very dirty minds. First, she popped my cock free from my shorts. That task was assisted by the urgent engorgement of my member, which had already stretched the elastic waistband to its limit, the tip of my helmet peeping into the warm hot tub water. I felt all four delicate fingers plus the palm of her right hand around my thickness as her thumb dragged the triangle of wet fabric away from her sticky gash, exposing herself to the water, and to my flesh.

I lifted my haunches off the seat as she shifted a centimetre and settled her cunt on the tip of my cock. She plunged as I rose, burying my full turgidity deep into her womb on the first stroke. Rising again, her ass would be visible to any onlookers, who now would have a good clue just what was happening. She stopped when her labia held just the tip of my cock inside her, and rotated her hips. My hands moved without conscious direction to find her boobs, brushing the fabric upward, exposing her mounds to the cool spring air, though the heat from the surface of the tub was there to warm them. She was also exposed to our friends and neighbours, though with my palms cupping the orbs, and fingers squeezing her nipples, not much could have been visible.

Her squeals of delight pierced the cool morning air, leaving no doubt about just how excited she was as we found our rhythm, my hips lifting, pushing my prick deep inside of her, her crashing down, then rising up, each pair of strokes faster and harder than the previous pair. I tugged her nubs away from her body, her thrashing adding to the pain that seemed to give her so much pleasure.

It did not take her long to climax, Though this time, it felt like a minute, it likely was more like five. She simply lowered herself against my thighs with extra emphasis, her abdominal muscles clamping her pussy walls tight around my cock, and milking me while I was trapped inside of her.

I had a split second to wonder whether I should free up a hand to tweak her clit but she seemed to anticipate my thoughts, groaning, "Just keep on doing what you are doing, baby."

She threw her head back, arching her back which ground her cunt harder against my lap and around my cock, while stretching her nipples which remained pinched by my fingers.

"Commmmminnnnng..." she screamed loud enough to wake the neighbours, even the ones not passed out around our hot tub. She collapsed against my chest, her head resting on my shoulder. I glanced around, my cock still pulsing inside of her. Not a creature was stirring - no one had awoken.

Her climax wound down, her clit throbbing against my shaft with the delicacy of a butterfly.

She whispered in my ear, "Poor boy, you haven't come yet...would you ...would you ...like...to fill...my ass..."

I could not see her face, but I knew she would be blushing, cheeks as red as apples. Anal sex was her forbidden pleasure, something she had been raised to view as taboo. Over the years, she had gradually admitted that she loved the fullness, but rear entry was very much a special occasion pleasure. She especially loved it when I pumped great gobs of goo up her poop chute. She had confessed that the feeling of the cream seeping out that hole warmed her loins all day afterward.

Apparently her question was rhetorical, as she lifted herself up and twirled around, the backs of her thighs whispering against mine. She rose up slightly. I felt her fingers brush my cock as she tugged the back of her bikini bottoms aside. She grasped me at the root and lowered her ass over my slimy spear, still well lubricated by her cunt juices. She gasped once as the tip of my cock violated the protective ring of her sphincter muscle, but then sighed as she lowered herself effortlessly the rest of the way down, until her thighs were against mine, and my full length was filling her bowels.

My hands settled under her tits again, lifting them and kneading while she rotated her hips to milk my shaft. I resumed tugging on her nipples while her hand found my scrotum, kneading my balls, twirling them like marbles.

She started bouncing after a bit, lifting a little at first, but with each stroke, she rose higher, more of my shaft getting exposed to the water, but then enjoying how warm her ass felt around my flesh. My hips gradually joined in the rhythm, rising off the seat in counterpoint, so that we started slamming together harder and faster. Her free hand again started tweaking her own clit. Through the thin membrane separating her passages, I felt her quim pulsating. She was gasping for air, another orgasm clearly near.

Suddenly, as I lowered myself toward the seat, instead of fingers playing with my balls, I felt a single digit penetrate my ass, instantly locating my prostate. I closed my eyes, perhaps blacking out for a second as simultaneous orgasms washed through us, water sloshing out of the hot tub as my wife's body writhed uncontrollably, the muscles of her ass milking every drop of sperm out of my balls, drawing it up my shaft until it splattered inside of her, giving her that creamy deposit that she could enjoy all day.

I am sure that I only imagined faint applause as I slumped back against the wall of the hot tub, still holding my wife's tits as the final waves coursed threw her quivering body, until finally she collapsed back against me, her head limp on my shoulder, panting softly, exhausted from the sex, after the all-nighter. I might have detected the kitten-like purring that passes as her snoring.

I don't think I imagined Ralphie Miller's voice asking "Hey, who does a guy have to fuck to get breakfast around here."