I came in with flowers.
We kissed. Hungrily.
I opened her robe. I smiled at the black bikini.
We never made it to the hot tub that weekend.
And we never said a word to each other until Monday morning.
How do you fuck for two solid days?
Let me rephrase that. How do you fuck for two solid days in your fifties?
Well, let me set the stage for you: Two old, married farts. Three years of abstinence (at least for my part; at this point, I wasn’t sure about Shari).
Wine. A new job on the horizon. Temptation on both sides. And a mutual desire to reconnect.
That’s how you fuck for two solid days.
“Dave, Mike’s told us a lot about you. He says you’re the best in the business in this area.”
I thought about how the past weekend erupted. How, after handing flowers off to Shari Saturday afternoon, she simply dropped them in the floor and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me deeply.
Shari took me by the hand. Led me to the family sofa in the den. Pushed me down into a seated position. Pulled my pants down to reveal a raging hardon.
Stripped out of her bikini bottoms. Impaled her beautiful pussy on my cock. Both thighs locked around my thighs.
Rode me like a bull rider. One. Two. Maybe seven? Orgasms for her. Fuck. I don’t know. I was locked in on her eyes looking at me.
“Yes sir. Mike and I go way back. I’ve been doing real estate, land development, construction, and construction sales in this area for well over 30 years. I know the territory. Know the players. Know the landscape.”
A break in the action. Shari was parched. We kissed about a million times while she rode my cock.
We drank water from the fridge. Gulped from the same glass. Chests heaving in exhaustion. Eyes boring holes into each other.
We went back down to the couch without a word.
Shari kneeled between my legs and sucked me hard again. Her eyes on me. Staring into my soul.
I couldn’t swear I was her only lover. I only knew that as far as lovers go, she wanted me now. Her eyes told me so.
“Mmph,” I grunted as the tip of my cock tickled her tonsils.
She smiled around my cock and let me go. Shari stood, turned around, and repositioned herself, ass presenting.
Slowly she sheathed her pussy over my cock.
“That’s quite impressive, Dave. Sounds like what we want in an Area Sales Manager. In how much detail did Mike discuss the position with you?”
Cowgirl. Reverse cowgirl. Bent over the sofa. Hands grasping the mantle over the inset stove. A pillow tossed into the floor for her ass to settle in. Her heels in my hands as we fucked on the carpet. And that was just Saturday.
“Not much. I know you guys are looking for someone to coach your sales guys up. For the whole region. I know there is some traveling involved.”
We fucked in the den. We fucked in the living room. We fucked in the bedroom, the bath, the guest room, the fucking laundry room.
“Yes, there will be some travel involved. We’re looking for someone to get familiar with the whole Southeast. We want someone to be able to sell throughout the region.”
Geographic familiarity. Regions.
I dined on Shari’s pussy I don’t know how many times over the weekend.
Ate her out to a thousand orgasms.
Sunday afternoon. Shari in the middle of our bed. My face in the middle of Shari. Her thighs clamped around my head.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
I guess it’s not totally true we didn’t say anything to each other over the weekend.
We expelled our want for each other.
We imparted to one another.
“It’s a matter of familiarity,” I shared. “Getting to know the builders. Getting to know their unique situations. Catering to those situations.”
Shari likes her ass attended. She likes it licked. She likes it penetrated with the tongue. She likes the whole area swathed with saliva. She likes her ass fucked. Hard.
I catered to Shari that weekend.
In the fucking foyer…