“In her bedroom, I think.” Michael didn’t miss a beat as he pinned her against the counter. His hand started slapping wetly against her pussy. Linda quelled a whimper.
Goddamn, he’s still horny! Michael’s a fucking Superman sometimes, even when he’s exhausted from work, but he usually saves this for when Sarah’s not at home.
“Jesus, what if she sees us?” she whispered, to no response. Through the building sensations in her body, she envisioned their daughter catching them in the act. That thought was pushed aside by a quickly-approaching orgasm.
After years of lovemaking, Michael knew intimately his wife’s sounds and body language.
“That’s it, my love.” His voice was like warm honey. “Come for me one more time.”
Linda nodded, her eyes closed, lips apart as accelerating slapping noises filled the kitchen. She wanted to bend over the counter and let Michael pound another one out, whether or not Sarah walked in on them.
Oh, fuck, what if she’s watching?
That’s when it hit.
“Ahhhhgggg…” Linda tried to come as quietly as possible, but to her, it sounded like ragged screams of passion. Her hands squeezed the edge of the counter so firmly that it creaked with her shuddering body.
“Yes, my love…yesss…” He held her tight as she bucked and writhed against his firm grip. “Come…come hard for me. God, I love it so much…can’t get enough of your sweet, wet pussy.”
“Nnnnggg…ahhhhh…” Linda made a sound like air escaping from a tire, unable to form coherent words, sexual tension escaping as she rode down the backside of her intense climax.
In time, Linda nodded, and Michael’s fingers slipped out of her body. She turned to watch him lick them clean, unable to take her eyes from his mouth as he savored the heady taste of her sex. The next moment, she thought she saw movement in the living room.
Shit, could it be?
She rested her head on Michael’s chest, eyes still searching.
No. I’m just paranoid. But not enough to keep from…
She dropped to her knees and, exposing her husband’s aching erection, took it in her mouth.
If Sarah sees this, I don’t know what I’ll say, but my man needs relief.
“Goddamn, honey,” Michael growled, somewhat surprised. He also glanced over his shoulder to see if they were alone. “Ahhh…”
She wasted no time in taking his eight noble inches down her throat, like she had done thousands of times over the years, one hand gripping his buttock as the other squeezed the base of his cock as she returned the favor. It was Michael’s turn to grip the counter as he looked down into his wife’s loving eyes, her mouth full. Slurping noises filled the air as he winced with pleasure.
“Goddamn…fuck, honey…hungry bitch,” his jawline flexed as his teeth clenched. Linda merely groaned.
Of course, it didn’t take long for his body to go taut, cum erupting from his cock, right down Linda’s throat. She, in turn, kept him in her mouth, repeatedly drawing up the length of his slippery, twitching shaft, until the spasms subsided, swallowing, savoring the taste.
Now maybe we can get through dinner without raping each other.
Michael shook his head, spent and satisfied for the moment, as Linda tucked his limp cock back into its pouch. The elastic band on his underwear snapped tight as his wife rose to kiss him. Their mouths lingered, tongues intertwining, as he tasted his cum. Linda moaned as their bodies pressed together.
Icing on the cake.
Suddenly, Michael pulled away, slapping Linda’s ass with a loud smack.
“Now get to work with those pots and pans, woman!” He commanded.
“Asshole!” Linda pretended to slap his face, but it was a love tap. They both laughed as she scurried away, looking over her shoulder at her lifemate, fulfilled.
“What’s going on in here?” A voice called from the other side of the kitchen. It was Sarah’s. Michael, with his still-damp member swelling inside his underwear, creating an unmistakable outline, merely smirked at his daughter, giving her a kiss on the mouth and a pat on the butt as he exited.
“Oh, nothing.” Linda tried not to look guilty, but it was impossible. She still tasted Michael’s salty, alkaline semen in her mouth, and hoped her copious wetness wasn’t making a visible spot on the front of her panties.
Maybe I should put that robe back on.
“Okayyy…” The young woman slipped onto a barstool, eyeing her with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. Linda felt the need to speak as if it would divert Sarah away from the obvious.
“Are you done with your homework, young lady?” Mother asked as her husband returned. He had put on his robe and handed the other to Linda. Immediately, she slipped it on.
Thank god.
“Uh, no.” Sarah eyed her parents. “I just heard some noise and came to see what was up.”
Michael didn’t help. He was again behind Linda, massaging her shoulders. He left his robe open and his erection had returned, flustering her even more.
My face must be beet red.
“Cooking…that’s what’s up.” Linda was getting angry at herself for being turned on yet again.
God help me. Why is it I need to fuck so bad, even with my daughter only a few feet away, interrogating me?
“Hit those books and get it done, sweetheart.” Michael chimed in, much to his wife’s relief. “Then we can be together.”
“Sure, whatever.” Sarah’s feet hit the floor and she trotted off.
“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” Linda called after her daughter, who didn’t respond. She shook her head as she unwrapped a package of chicken breasts.
A grown-up one minute, a bratty teenager the next.
Saturday was thankfully a day off for all. Late spring meant school would be soon over and Sarah had all summer to regroup and plan for the fall semester at community college. It also meant the days were getting warmer, and longer, with sunshine and clear skies. This day was no exception.
Linda and Michael had installed an impressive, amoeba-shaped heated swimming pool in their backyard several years ago. Michael especially liked using it as he swam almost every day that wasn’t freezing. Linda, in contrast, contented herself with lounging near the pool with a mixed drink, watching her husband do his laps, or watching their daughter, who loved the diving board.
The years had been kind to Linda, not only because she minded her weight, managing to do light exercise most days, but a lot of it came down to genetics. The complex DNA mix passed down from her ancestors produced a pretty, full-bodied woman of moderate height, with dark brown hair, full hips, and ample breasts. Her face was not delicate, with a prominent nose and full lips, but she possessed a certain je ne sais quoi that made most men look twice.
Still, the only reason she dared to wear a modest, one-piece bathing suit outdoors was that Michael had installed a high, wooden privacy fence to surround the backyard. Parading naked, or near-naked, around the house was fine, but she wasn’t an exhibitionist beyond the confines of her own domicile.
As she did most days when weather permitted, she threw a big, thick beach towel over one of the reclining lawn chairs, then proceeded to slowly and thoroughly rub oil all over herself. Michael or Sarah would help with her hard-to-reach areas, then she kicked back with her drink, soaking up the sun, and watching the world go by. Usually, she would bring along her radio, tuned to the local classical music station.
“Why don’t you ever come in with us, Mom?” Sarah’s head poked just above the waterline as she bobbed up and down, her toes just touching the bottom. A Mozart string quartet intermingled with the sound of splashing water as Linda took a sip of her cherry daiquiri.
“No, honey, I’m fine watching you two go at it.”
“Ah, that’s bogus! What’s the purpose of having a swimming pool if you don’t use it?” Sarah splashed water on Linda, making her jump, spilling part of her drink.
“Hey, you little turd!” Linda protested as Sarah swam to the far side of the pool, giggling.
Michael had worked hard on keeping himself fit, and it showed. While he was by no means an Adonis, his figure was lean and firm, with just a tiny bit of paunch, which he couldn’t stop pinching while furrowing his brow.
“If you can pinch more than an inch” was a saying at the time, and he tended to obsess over it. In his line of work, appearances meant a lot, but it was mostly for the benefit of his wife.
Sarah’s slim, lithe figure, blond hair, and pale skin were a surprise, considering her parents’ heritages. Michael was by no means an albino, with dark hair and piercing eyes. Early on, the joke about a Swede in the woodpile was brought up often, but Michael knew she was his.
“Amazing how physical traits skip a few generations, then pop up out of nowhere.” Michael had traced his lineage, in part, to somewhere in Scandinavia, but he could find nothing more specific. The other half of the family was pure Mediterranean.
Climbing out of the pool, dripping with water, Sarah resembled a Nordic water sprite. Michael appreciated the two-piece bikini she wore that day.
“See something you like?” Linda teased.
Michael had joined his wife after a swim. After rubbing oil on her back, he reclined with a beer, watching their daughter splash about in the pool. Sarah’s attire was decidedly skimpy. On a more well-endowed person, the bikini would have been too daring, but the young woman’s figure offered nothing to challenge the wisps of thin fabric. She wore it well.
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