You can’t leave work, but you can show Brad your appreciation

"I can't leave work right now," you say and instantly feel lousy for saying it.

Brad looks crestfallen.

"I shouldn't have done this. I get it."

"No," you stand and perss your hands to his chest, pushing him until his back is against the door. "I don't think you do get it, Brad."

You press your body against his and reach down to lock the door.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I wanted to thank you for trying." You press your lips to his and close your eyes, reminding him of all he's been missing with the intensity of that one kiss. As your lips part and your tongue collides with his, your hand slides down his chest, to the familiar zipper. Your kisses become even more in-tense, less controlled, your breath loud through your noses, his hands moving to your ass as you lower his zipper and reach inside.

You fill your hand with the hot hardness of your husband's cock. You stroke him, leaning back so he can kiss your neck, down to your breasts, his lips pressing against your cleavage. His hands are inside your sweater, fingers moving beneath the bra, crushing your tender flesh in his hands. He pinches your nipple and you gasp and squeeze his cock in reply.

Thoughts of work and the office recede. You fall to the floor together, mouths ravenous, hands tearing at bothersome clothes. He gets your sweater and bra off and presses his face against your breasts. His kiss travels down your tummy and to the skirt. You moan, knowing what he intends, lifting your ass so he can slide the skirt and thong down your legs. You spread your thighs, exposing your trimmed pussy to him. He teases you with his fingers, kneading your mound, testing the sensitivity of your clit before focusing his strokes on it. He lowers his face to your aching cunt and he licks.

Your husband has never been enthusiastic when it comes to cunnilingus.

Alll that has seemingly changed. He eagerly tongues your slit and works your clit with his fingers. His tongue curls and rolls against your honeyed folds, burning you with liquid pleasure, before he presses his mouth to your wetness and plunges his tongue into your depths. You're not sure if it's his eager pussy licking or your heightened arousal, but in short minutes you cry out, thrusting your spasming cunt against his mouth and writhing on the floor.

There is no afterglow. As your orgasm subsides you are even more turned on and ready to go. You stand on quaking legs and guide him to the chair.

You shuck off his pants and underwear and kneel before him. His moans of pleasure as you suck him are a fine reward. When his cock is dripping with his juices and your saliva you press it between your tits and bounce them against his thighs. His swollen sex pole emerges with each downward stroke, a glistening plum between your tender titflesh. You want to feel his cum against your throat, but there is no time for that. After only a few strokes you release his hard cock from the prison of your breasts.

"I want to fuck you," is all you say, turning, lowering your ass to his lap. He cups your cheek with one hand and guides his pole to the ripe peach of your pussy.

You both groan as his hardness penetrates your churning depths. You lean forward and rely on your toned legs to do the work of fucking your husband.

Your ass pops up and down on his cock, your hungry depths swallowing him with each roll of your hips.

"Oh fuck, you're so big," you moan. "I'm cumming again."

Your ass slaps against his lap. He thrusts up to meet you, squeezing your cheeks, spreading them and caressing you. A deep, vaginal orgasm throbs within you. Your tender walls clench and release his cock. You cry out his name and beg for him to fuck you harder.

"I'm going to blow my load," Brad groans. "I want to, ah, cum all over you."

"Shoot it on me," you beg.

He pushes on your ass, lifting you up, emptying you of the hot length of his cock. He pulls you back down, sliding the underside of his cock against the valley of your ass. You rock back against him and he thrusts up, his cock jerking. You feel the heat of his cum launching against your back, almost up to your shoulder, painting your lower back with gooey ropes and, finally, pumping out the last, thick puddle of his spunk against the top of your ass.

"Oh my fucking God," he exclaims, laughter and exertion shaping his words.

"That was so hot."

You let him admire your spunk-spattered back for a bit and then gingerly stand. You catch most of his cum in a tissue and he helps, wiping it off your ass and depositing the sodden papers in the trash. You share another long kiss, but it's time for him to go. He helps you dress and departs with a promise to "continue this" when you get home.