He let go of her. She looked up at him.
Again, she looked frightened and hungry at the same time. Her eyes, however, held that sparkle and smile from earlier.
He dropped his jeans, struggling to get them free of his feet.
A tall man, the height of the counter was entirely too perfect.
“Wait!” she said quickly, struggling to lean forward.
“Wait?” he asked. He pressed his hard cock against her wet lips. She was glistening from the tongue lashing.
“I want to suck it.”
“Later,” he said.
“Later?” she asked.
As an answer he slipped his cock inside of her, her tight cunt welcomed him. “Later!” she agreed.
He held her by the ankles, her ass just barely off the edge of the granite. He moved slowly for a moment measuring her reaction. He watched her. His mind played tricks on him and the woman he was watching flashed between his 47-year-old wife and his new twenty-something lover. He pressed his eyes closed tightly to fight off his conscience. He focussed only on the feel of her clenching at his cock.
His pace was fast, his thrusts firm. His hips slapped against her tight ass and thighs.
He dared look down at her. Her hands had moved to her tits. He watched her roll her nipples between her fingertips.
His wife has always knocked his hands away.
This time he knocked the woman’s hands-free and took her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers and pinching and pulling he fucked away at her.
Her eyes were open.
Fuck that was weird.
Her mouth hung open. “Oh shit. Oh Fuck.” she gasped.
The night pulled away, the room disintegrated. Time and space took on a crooked sort of distortion. He was old, and she was young and then she wasn’t her at all but was instead his young wife, and he was his, and it was the night after Christmas of their first fight. “You just aren’t a very good kisser.”
He would feel bad later about what he had done to the young woman. Decades of frustration and ger and pain were taken out that night. He fucked her on the counter. He moved her to the floor. He gripped her firmly about the throat as she held him by the wrists. When she let go, he let go. She reacted by putting his hand back where it was, and eyes closed he pillaged the poor girl.
He fucked her over the back of the chair, upholstered in baseball glove leather, that his wife had hated so much she had tried to ruin it.
He fucked the girl against the wall. She was small enough, strong enough, agile enough, to pull it off. He fucked her in the bedroom, surprised his cock was still working.
He fucked her until he couldn’t any longer. His cock, half hard, trying to give it a go the last part of his body to give in.
They laid side by side for a time in bed until he began to drift in and out of sleep.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hmmm?” he managed to grunt.
“So… uh… I should go.”
He opened a single eye to look at her.
“If you have to,” he said.
“I don’t HAVE to,” she said.
He reached out and pulled her back towards him until her small body was curled up around his chest, his arm locked around her back, his hand gripping a soft, thick ass cheek. He thought briefly about how her ass had jiggled when she walked in the little loose fitting romper.