Rose Cottage

"could there be a better friday afternoon"

It was two pm on Friday afternoon, the sun was shining and I was going to see my amazing fuck friend. Work was finished for the week. The combination of the vibrations from my truck and the anticipation of seeing her was exquisite. So much so, it was possible I was going to have to undo a button or two down below.

A tractor pulled into the road in front of me which dragged my attention back to here and now. I braked and waved. This mood was just too good to be spoiled by anything. I had met her six months ago online. It had taken some time but wow, was it worth it. The sex has just been fantastic, funny and basically fucking marvellous. Even though it is an occasional thing, it was always great.

Anyway, back to Friday… I pull up at her cottage, knowing her hubby won’t be back for hours and, being self employed, my hours are my own. I go through the front door as quietly as I can, slip my work boots off and start to search. It would be great to surprise her this time. She’s not in any of the nooks or crannies of the living room so I check the kitchen and get distracted by the memory of her licking warm chocolate of my penis and balls, driving me to unheard heights of ecstasy. That memory stirs my loins even more. My erection is now straining against the buttons of my jeans. Oh, happy days. I move quietly up the stairs, missing the creaky tread, and try the bath room. Ah, the long luscious sessions in the bath and the hot furious passion of the shower. I always love to watch her bring herself off with the water jet, who’d have thought such a humble appliance could bring two people such pleasure.

I find her in the bedroom at her dresser. She, as normal, is not surprised. Maybe my attempts at stealth are just that.

As I take in what she’s wearing or, should I say, what she’s wearing for me. The black lacy waspie suspender belt, yum, the balcony bra where there is just a hint of nipple on show. Wow, what nipples they are: large, pert, the size of car wheel nuts. They can be so sensitive when engorged. If she’s in the mood, playing with them can bring her within inches of a climax. Not forgetting the tiny thong, the fishnet stockings and the red, fuck-me pumps. I thought I’d died and she was the Valkyrie ready to whisk me off to Valhalla.

Back in the real world, she’s guiding me back to wall.

She tells me, “Shut your mouth lover boy and stay still.”

She moves toward me like a fine whisky pouring itself, dusky, sparkly and definitely packing a punch. Then her body brushes against mine and I let out a murmur of pleasure. She deftly undoes my buttons and releases my manhood from his restrictive cage. She looks down and smiles a wolfish grin as her eyes drop to my engorged member. I know it’s on the menu. In one fluid movement, like silk fluttering in a breeze, she drops to one knee and takes me deep into her mouth.

This is so good. I moan and try to stroke her fabulous hair, but she pushes me back, seeming to suck and lick around the head of my penis in one glorious movement. Her pace and urgency increase along with my desire to come. I am brought to the brink time after time until, finally, I erupt into her willing mouth. I come for what seems like an age and she swallows and swallows. When I am done she stands up, in smooth glide that brushes her nipples gently past my rough work shirt. Her kisses are deep and her tongue darts and plays with mine.

This really is going to be a fantastic afternoon…