Archive name: Sunday Morning .HTM (M/F,
Husband & Wife)
Authors name: Paula Wilson
([email protected])
Story title: Sunday Morning
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This work is copyrighted to the author and
the Unfaithful Wife Organisation © 2003.
Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this
story. All rights reserved. Thank you
for your consideration.
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Note: This
story is the first of three which cover roughly six weeks in my life, they
begin with this little view of Charlie and me and how we interact with each other. I thought it was about time that you really were introduced to him properly. It
also sets the scene for what follows…
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I have never
described our house and it’s important that I do. We live in one of those wide,
quiet suburbs where there are scarcely any amenities, just street after street of
single and two storey homes. We have a two storey with the usual rooms
downstairs, lounge, dining room, and kitchen and utility, there’s also a toilet
off the utility room.
You reach the
first floor from a staircase leading from the hallway, the stairs leads to a
balcony off which are the two bedrooms, bathroom and den. The den is over the
garage and was once a third bedroom but the previous owner converted it into a
real, full blow office. It was this that caught Charlie’s eye when we were viewing,
he needed somewhere to work and here it was.
I was caught by
the master bedroom, it was huge, like almost the size of my first apartment
huge, and with a large picture window that overlooked the rear garden. I liked
the idea of sitting there and drinking coffee, just watching nature without
exactly being in it.
So for
different reason’s we both wanted the place and that was enough. The price was
in my opinion, ridiculously high and way outside anything we could afford. At least
that was what I thought, it was only then that I discovered my easy going
partner could be like a dog with the proverbial bone. He wanted the place and
that ended the argument.
There were
negotiations and more negotiations and then suddenly Charlie announced we’d
bought the place. I must say that I couldn’t see how we could afford it, but we
have, thanks to Charlie’s salary.
There is always
a snag to everything and our’s isn’t about the house but our work. The library
demands flexible working over six days and Charlie’s work seems to get more and
more demanding. There is the compensation of the money, but some weeks we are
like passing strangers and with my interests
that can be a problem.
So when we are
together I want to make the most of it and that brings me up to date. I’m
sitting at the picture window sipping coffee and eating dry toast. Charlie’s in
the bathroom and I shut out of my thoughts what he’s doing in there.
It’s Sunday morning
and I think that Sunday’s can be the
very best day of the week. It is the
only day of the week that I can guarantee not to be working and this Sunday
Charlie’s work mean’s he’s also home. So we savour days like today as they are
few and far between.
On such days we
have a routine, now I know you’ll say that I’m not one for routines, but there
are routines and there are routines.
Our Sunday
routine starts with me slipping out of our bed and making a large plate of dry toast and a pot of
coffee. Then, once I have stirred Charlie (he is a deep sleeper) we just have
breakfast and try not to start touching each other too soon. The latter is
harder than you’d imagine but does depend upon how horny I’m feeling. I say me,
because in my limited (joke) experience, young and healthy men are always ready
and if they aren’t then I know enough tricks to convince them.
As some weeks
we hardly see each other it’s also a chance to really talk, one of those things
that don’t happen enough in the electronic world. They say the art of
conversation is dead, I say it’s the art of remembering what people have said
to you that’s dead, that and the art of listening. We have become too reliant
upon email and PDA’s, just gadgets to replace our memory.
So we don’t
listen hard enough to what other people tell us. I’m as guilty as anyone as
Charlie points out. “I said that we’d been invited round, I really did.” He
sounds exasperated, which for someone as laid back as
Charlie is quite a feat. He’s back from the bathroom and is sitting opposite
me.
“I don’t doubt
it.” I yield. If Charlie said he’d told me then I believe him, anyway what else
can I say that won’t start a row? “When, what time I mean.” I try not to sound
angry but I am disappointed. I had plans for today and they only included
Charlie.
In his usual
calm and soft voiced way Charlie explains that we have been invited by
Charlie’s boss to a spring barbeque; I think early spring is way too early for
outdoor meat burning, but when Charlie's boss asks you round, then it’s by way
of a summons. Like when the army captain says he wants volunteers and then
selects them!
“So how long
have we got?” I ask.
Charlie grins,
that lazy grin that always curls my toes. “Couple of hours.”
“Is that all?”
I fake a high whining complaining voice.
“It’s long
enough.”
“I know that,
it’s just …I fancied being pampered … do we have enough time for that?” I grin back.
“I suppose that
we’ll have to find out.” Charlie moves towards me, I don’t run away.
You see Sunday at
home starts with a long slow fuck. It is the one time when we can actually take
our time. Fucking at night, after a days work isn’t always the best moment. I
can be tired or Charlie can be, either way, Sunday with us both rested and with
time on our hands is always favourite.
Charlie never
wears anything other than a simple pair of boxer shorts, winter or summer
that’s all he wears in bed. I’m not that bold, I can wear pyjamas, a nightie,
depends on how cold it has been. This morning I’m wearing a pale blue and knee
length cotton nightie, hardly romantic but it can be off in a trice.
Charlie climbs
on to the bed. I can just see the beginning of his erection. He lies down flat
on his back with that burgeoning erection forming a tent in his shorts. It’s
like this in a relationship, there is no mystery left and for a brief moment I
wonder if that’s why I stray.
Charlie’s favourite fuck position is with me
on top, mine is from behind, so there is always a compromise to be struck. I straddle
him, sitting on his belly and with that hard on just pressing against my butt.
“We did it this way the last time.” I protest whilst picking a stray toast
crumb from his sparse chest hair.
“Did we, I
can’t remember.” Charlie answers. He has his hands behind his head and looks
very smug. This is his tease mode, like I said, once in a relationship
surprises get fewer and fewer.
“Yes you bloody
can!” I retort. “It was only yesterday, on the couch remember?” we been kind of
just lying there watching television and sort of just touching each other and
well one touch lead to another and you can guess the outcome.
“Oh yes … that
doesn’t count …”
“Why not!” I
cry. I bounce a little and Charlie grunts before replying.
“Because we
weren’t in bed, the last time we did it in bed was the good old missionary.” Charlie tries to fake a preacher Sunday
voice.
“You’re
twisting the rules.” I complain, giving him my schoolgirl look that usually
works at some level, usually Charlie’s groin.
“And you
don’t!” He laughs and gets a slap for his pains. “I promise the next time will
be doggie.”
I slip a hand
inside his shorts and grab hold of his dick, I know it’s unfair, but a girl has
got to have leverage and what better lever is there than a man’s equipment..
“When, when doggie.” I demand, once more in my schoolgirl persona.
“If you’re good and behave yourself at my bosses, then how about tonight?”
“Do I need to
make an appointment?” I pout; Charlie’s dick has grown under my sensitive treatment
and is approaching the useful stage.
“I’ll have my secretary give you call.”
Charlie says and receives another slap. I like hitting him; it’s all in play of
course and is really just an excuse to touch.
Charlie slides
his hand up my leg and beneath my nightie. I just give him a weak smile, the
sort that say’s that isn’t going to get me going, whilst in truth as his
fingers stroke my inner thighs my pussy begins to smile. I slip out of my
nightie and naturally enough I shiver. I don’t have Charlie’s tolerance to the
cold, mainly because I’m a wimp where the weathers concerned. I really should
live in
“I love you
like this.” Charlie murmurs. Charlie cups my boobs in his hands; I’d been
waiting for him to do that, least my nipples have. I get the softest of
feelings when he’s touching me; Charlie’s never ever been anything other than
sensitive. It’s one of the things I like about him; he had never fucked me just
for his own sake, but always to give me
pleasure.
“What? Wearing
my night knickers?” I tease. I know what he means. I have never thought that my
tits are my best feature but Charlie always disagrees, he loves my boobs. I
should also say that I have on a duty set of knickers that only get worn for
bed, not the thong variety; these are good old fashion knickers with gussets
and side panels.
There is just one problem. I inspect a
wandering finger. “You need to cut your nails.” I scold.
“Later?” He
pleads.
“Later.” I
concede. “Only be careful, I’m not made out of wood.” I return the finger to
its place on my boobs.
“I know what
you’re made of.” He laughs. He tries to sit up but I push him back. “Hey!”
“The barbeque,
remember?” I mock. We have the time, but I’m just going to make the point that
his timing has spoilt the morning.
Charlie pulls a
face. “No time?”
“Just enough to
fuck, I’ll need to shower and wash my
hair and pick my clothes … all that
sort of stuff.” I tick off each task on my fingers. I am labouring the point,
an April barbeque calls for jeans and a sweater, no big decisions to be made
there.
“Okay, point
taken.” Charlie’s finger flicks at my knickers elastic. “What about these … if
we haven’t got much time why are these still on?”
“Because you haven’t
taken them off!” I stick my tongue out and then decide that it might as well
inspect the inside of his mouth, there follows the ritual snog and fondle which
precedes the real sex.
Finally I break
off and then I stand up, no easy feat on our bed, and pull the panties off, and
then I just stand over Charlie, allowing him a grandstand view of my pussy. I
resist the temptation to finger myself, I will when I’m feeling dirty enough,
but not today.
I couch down
until I can feel the tip of his dick just against my pussy lips and our eyes
meet.
“No.” Say’s
Charlie in his calm voice.
“I don’t mind,
honest I don’t.” I could just sink down, take him inside me, I know he wouldn’t
say no then.
“No.” He
repeats. “Not yet.” He reaches for the bedside draw and flicks the foil towards
me. “Paula, not yet, one day, but not yet.” He is serious, very serious and
this isn’t the cause for an argument. I’d let Charlie get me pregnant if he
wanted to, but right now he doesn’t, so I roll the condom down the length of his
dick.
“We can talk
later.” Charlie offers by way of conciliation.
“Yeah!” I agree
and sink down, feeling Charlie's dick nose its way inside me, my cunt expands
and then contracts to claim its prize, a nice hard dick. I start to move,
slowly, nice and slowly, so that I get to feel the whole length inside me.
Charlie does nothing, but the smug expression has been replaced by a strained
one.
Each time I
move I feel his hardness, I start to
rock backwards and forwards, rubbing my clit against the dark prickly mass of
his pubes, the sensation is both good and bad. I like it when my clitoris is
touched but to hard and it can hurt. Charlie’s pubes come into the latter
category. I pull a face and shift position, hauling my clit off his pubic
barbed wire.
“Turn round.”
He grunts.
“What? … Why?”
I grunt back. I’m moving again and don’t want to stop.
“I want to see
my dick going inside you.” He explains.
This is a new
one. I though I’d tried out all of Charlie’s favourite position. Instead I find
myself facing down the bed and steering his dick back inside me. I don’t get anything out of this new
position other than a view of Charlie’s feet and they need their nails cutting
as well!
Charlie must be
getting a grandstand of his dick going into me and of my arse as well. He must
really be seeing my button hole, still if a girl can’t display herself to her
husband, who else? I just lead forwards; resting my hands on his legs and
begins to move just a little quicker. Charlie stops just lying there and starts
to match my thrusts with his own.
It felt so good inside me. I was moving faster and faster, his cock
filling me and then as I moved he almost fell out. As my desire grew, so did my
motions, faster and harder. I was fucking him so hard that he placed his hands on
my hips helping to hold me as he meets my thrusts.
I can feel him growing even harder in my pussy and then I feel him
tense, he’s going to come!
It’s enough, knowing that he’s was close; I feel my own climax building.
After a few more hard strokes we come together and I collapse across his legs
and just allow my climax to wash over me. I can even feel his deflating dick
begin to withdraw and still the last ripples of my climax run through me. There
is even one last tiny explosion as Charlie's dick finally drops out of me.
Slowly I turn
around and crawl back up the bed to collapse into Charlie’s open arms. I
snuggle up to him, feeling his heart pounding beneath his warm chest.
“That was nice.” I breathe, feeling that warm, post fuck glow I always have with Charlie.
“Just nice!” Charlie laughs.
“Yeah, just nice, as in … as in ….” I stop and just slap him and then I’m silent.
I don’t need nice, I have the need for a long, hard fuck, the sort I get from strangers.