almost civilised

The morning ride doesn’t end until both of your stomachs are growling loud enough to ignore.

You’re still buried inside her when the hunger finally wins. Getting out of the swampy, cum-soaked sheets is a clumsy, sticky process—hands never really leaving each other’s bodies. You make it as far as the kitchen. Toast is half-buttered on the counter when Sandra’s fingers wrap around your cock again and you both end up on the floor, her on her hands and knees, you fucking her in deep, steady strokes while the forgotten toast grows cold above you.

By the time you finish and actually eat, it’s late morning.

A shared shower follows around noon. Hot water, soapy hands, more slow grinding against the tiles until you add another load to the mix running down her thighs. When you step out she’s flushed, dripping, and still clearly not done with you.

She walks into the bedroom still naked and reaches toward the shelf where the unopened pack of pills has been sitting since yesterday.

Her back arches a little as she stretches for it—ass pushed out, soft cheeks parted just enough to show the slick mess between her legs and the tight little hole above.

You misread the posture completely.

Instead of waiting, you step in behind her, grip her hips, and line the thick head of your cock up against her ass. Sandra freezes for half a second when she feels it press there instead of her pussy. A sharp inhale. Then she doesn’t pull away. She pushes back just enough to let you know it’s okay, and the pills are forgotten on the spot.

You sink into her ass slowly, carefully at first, feeling the tight ring stretch around you. Sandra braces her hands on the shelf, a low, broken moan spilling out of her as you take her in the one place you haven’t claimed yet. The pack of contraception sits inches from her fingers, completely ignored, while you bottom out in her ass and start fucking her in long, deep strokes.

Whatever intention she had of starting the pill today evaporates the moment you’re inside her like this. Another day of raw, unprotected breeding—now with her ass added to the list—stretches out ahead of both of you.

By late afternoon on the second day the pure, mindless rutting finally eases—just a little.

You’re still inside her at least once every hour. Sometimes it’s a quick, deep fuck against whatever surface is closest; sometimes it’s slower, longer, with more kissing and lingering touches. But the constant, frantic need that defined yesterday has softened enough that other things become possible again.

You actually cook a real meal together.

Nothing fancy—pasta, some sauce, garlic bread—but you both stay mostly upright and mostly focused for the better part of forty minutes. Hands still wander. You end up pinning her to the counter twice for deep, grinding kisses that almost derail everything. At one point she bends to grab something from a lower cupboard and you take the invitation, sinking into her pussy from behind right there in front of the open fridge. You fuck her in steady, possessive strokes until you fill her again, then simply pull out, wash your hands, and keep stirring the sauce like it never happened. Sandra just wipes the fresh cum from between her thighs with a kitchen towel, gives you a flushed little smile, and continues chopping.

When the food is finally ready you manage to sit at the actual table.

It’s almost civilised.

Almost.

Sandra sits across from you, completely naked except for one of your shirts draped loosely over her shoulders. Within two minutes her bare foot is in your lap, soft sole and toes wrapping around your half-hard cock under the table. She strokes you slowly, almost absently, while the two of you eat. Every so often she gives a firmer squeeze or runs her toes over the head just to watch your expression. You return the favour by sliding your own foot between her legs and pressing against her still-slick pussy, feeling how wet she remains even after the fridge round.

Compared to yesterday’s complete inability to do anything but fuck, it really is massive progress.

You’re eating a proper meal. You’re talking in full sentences. You’re even laughing a little. And the entire time her foot keeps working your cock and your cum is still warm inside her, the unopened pack of pills still sitting untouched on the bedroom shelf for yet another day.