Home alone

The bedroom was dark except for the sliver of light sneaking through the curtains. Simon's breathing had evened out ten minutes ago, steady and deep beside her.

Anna lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, replaying the evening. The album sat on the nightstand. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the ring photo - her smile, the hidden truth.

Her mind was whirling ... about what Simon had brought up this morning during breakfast. He'd asked her to get off the pill ... have children ... about starting a family eventually. "Why wait?" He'd asked.

Her stomach had clenched. "Now?" she asked.

"Just something to think about." With that he stood, kissed her cheek and left for work.

Anna lay awake, thinking. Children. She asked herself: was she ready for it? She loved Simon - yes! But there was this feeling deep inside her chest ... that mind blowing experience on their wedding day and then again, three weeks ago, the day when she had picked up the photo book.

Her mind replayed the feeling how Ben had stretched her pussy, how intense her orgasms had been ... plural: ORGASMS!

She could feel her pussy reacting to her thoughts ... her fingers crept to her lower belly, and felt her wetness. Her clit responded immediately when she teased it. She felt the phantom presence of Ben's cock and started to rub her pussy ... her other hand joined in and after a short while she came ... silently ... suppressing her moan.

'Children ... why wait ... ' with that thought she fell asleep.

Simon left for work next morning, kissed her forehead and said he loved her - the way he always did - their usual morning routine. Anna had smiled, waved and then stood in the silent house.

Tuesday morning. After she had cleared the table and made the bed, she sat at the kitchen table, sunlight streaming across the tile floor, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

Her phone sat face-up on the wood, her heart beating loudly. The screen showed a text message from 'Unknown'. She memorized - she had stored this number just a few weeks ago and named it 'Unknown'

'Thinking about you.' it read.

It was from Ben's phone number.

Her thumb hovered over the screen, then pulled back. She pushed her jeans down, panties to the side, and touched herself right there at the table, fingers sliding through wetness she hadn't asked for but couldn't deny. The thought of three weeks ago - picking up the book, Ben's hands, his cock stretching her, the way his cum had leaked down her thigh as she drove home - sent a pulse through her clit. She pressed harder, circles, her breath catching.

Her thumb found the call button and pressed before she could stop herself.

The line rang twice.

"Hello?" That voice. Deep, familiar, confident.

"It's me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Was wondering when you'd call." A pause. "I have some ideas for our next … photo shoot."

Her fingers were still working between her legs. "Tell me."

"Need your pussy," he said simply. "You're the best I've ever had."

"I'm wet," she breathed. "Naked down below. Touching myself right now."

"Oh? Need help? That's a nice motive for another shoot."

"Hmm … right now I'm fingering my pussy, thinking of your cock."

"I'm on my way."

"Of how that big tool stretched me … ahhh …!" Her voice broke as two fingers curled inside her.

"You really sound like you need help."

"Indeed… I could use some help."

The call ended. She leaned back in the chair, concentrating on her pussy, riding her own fingers until a light orgasm rippled through her. Then she pulled up her jeans, grabbed the vacuum cleaner, and attacked the living room carpet with ferocious energy.

At 12:30, the doorbell rang. Her heart skipped, slammed against her ribs.

She opened the door. Ben stood there in a dark T-shirt that hugged his chest, and that same easy smile - so self confident.

"Hi."

"Hi… oh my god, you really came."

"Have coffee for me?"

"Uhumm… have a seat."

In the kitchen, she poured two cups. Her hands trembled. He sat across from her, fingers wrapped around the mug. When he reached out and touched her hand, she pulled back.

"We may not … I will not … I can't …"

"I can," he said. "I want. And I know you want it too."

Her hand returned to the table. His covered it. Their fingers intertwined. He stood, pulled her up, and kissed her. His hands found her buttocks, squeezing through the fabric of her jeans. Her arms looped around his neck, and she kissed him back, hungry, desperate.

Clothes fell to the floor just where they stood. Moans filled the quiet house. His lips on her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. She sat down on the chair, and spread her legs presenting him her wet pussy. He knelt between her legs, his tongue finding her clit, circling, dipping into her wetness. Her hands tangled in his hair, her head thrown back.

"Oh yeah, how I yearned for this… please give me more… give me your cock, please."

He stood. She took his hand and led him to the bedroom. He lay back on the bed, and she bent over him, her mouth descending on his hard cock. This time his hands rested on her head, guiding her rhythm. She took him deep, her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing.

Soon she couldn't wait. She straddled him, her slick folds sliding forth and back over his member. The tension built and very soon she positioned her entrance over his cock.

"Yes, fuck me …!" She sank down, gasping at the familiar stretch, she'd been hungrying for.

She leaned forward to kiss him, her breasts pressing against his chest. Then she rode him, her hips rocking, his hands gripping her waist.

"Turn around," he said, and she obeyed, facing away, still impaled. She rose and fell on his shaft, her hands braced on his thighs, her back arched. The angle was deeper, hitting somewhere that made her see sparks. He reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing in circles.

"I'm going to shoot," he groaned.

That triggered her peak. She felt his seed pump inside her as she came, her inner muscles clenching around him.

She collapsed beside him. "Oh, how I needed this … it's so different from my husband."

"You're welcome. Another round?"

"Absolutely - if you're ready again ...?"

She turned on her side, spooning against him. He lifted her leg and pushed inside her from behind.

Anna groaned loudly.

She watched his cock, glistening wet, sliding in and out of her. Their moans filled the room. They shifted to missionary, then doggy, his hands gripping her hips, her face pressed into the pillow.

"Let's fuck standing," he said.

Anna nodded.

He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist. He drove into her, her back against the wall, her breasts bouncing. The orgasm that hit her was so intense she nearly fainted. He came inside her again, his body shuddering.

They collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.

The clock showed 2 pm.

"I should be leaving," Ben said. "Maybe you should clean up a little."

"Right … but shower first. Want to accompany me?"

"Good idea. Show me where."

In the bathroom, steam rose as water pelted the tiles. They stood under the spray, soaping each other's bodies. His hands lingered on her breasts, her stomach, between her legs. She washed his chest, his thighs, his cock, which hardened under her touch. She licked the water off his shaft, then took him in her mouth.

He turned her around. She bent forward, hands against the glass shower enclosure, legs apart. He entered her from behind, his chest against her back, his hands cupping her breasts.

"That's so awesome … give it to me … aaahhhhh … fuck ...!"

He fucked her slowly, deeply, the water streaming over them.

"That's so good … I love your cock … you're so deep … I love it … I'm about to climax again … cumming … yeaaaaahhhh."

He pulled out, and she dropped to her knees, taking him into her mouth. "You are the best," he said, his breath ragged. "I can't remember when - when I came as often as with you. I feel it rising!"

With that, he shot his load into her mouth. She swallowed, looking up at him.

They cleaned themselves, toweled dry, and dressed in the kitchen.

He kissed her once more. "Bye for now. Just call me - I'll be there."

"No, no, no … this must have been our last."

"Whatever you say. Bye."

"No, really! Simon is planning on a baby. He just brought it up yesterday ... he asked me to get off th pill ..."

"So ... okay ... that's something ... you decide ... as I said: I'll be there. Bye."

She closed the door behind him. Her hands shook as she put the coffee cups in the dishwasher. She went to the bedroom, stripped the sheets, tossed them in the washing machine. She looked around. No traces.

At six, Simon came home. "How was your day?"

"A bit boring," she said, stirring the pot on the stove. "Cleaned the house, changed the bedclothes, things like that."

Simon kissed her cheek. "I love you. You're so caring. And your culinary skills… thanks for all of this."

She smiled, but her eyes slid to the window, where the afternoon light had faded, and somewhere out there, Ben was driving away with the taste of her still on his lips.

She excused herself to the bathroom, needing a moment alone. The fluorescent light hummed overhead, stark and unforgiving. She gripped the sink's edge, staring at her reflection - flushed cheeks, lips still slightly swollen, a satisfied glaze over her eyes that she couldn't quite blink away.

Get it together.

She splashed cold water on her face, pressed a towel to her skin. When she returned to the kitchen, Simon had already ladled soup into bowls. He looked up, his smile warm, guileless.

"You okay? You look a little flushed."

"Just tired," she said, sliding into her chair (the chair where she'd spread her legs, where Ben had licked her folds, where it all started just a few hours ago). "Long day."

He reached across the table, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "I was thinking more about what I said yesterday morning. About kids. I'd like to start trying soon. Like, really trying."

Her spoon hovered above the broth. The steam curled upward, carrying the scent of herbs and vegetables. She thought of Ben's seed inside her, the two loads he had shot inside her and the last load she'd swallowed - washed away from the shower. How much of it was still there?

She forced a smile. "Let's talk about it this weekend. Over wine."

He grinned, squeezed her hand, and dug into his dinner. Anna lifted her spoon, the liquid trembling, and let it touch her lips. The warmth did nothing to settle the cold knot tightening in her chest.

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