(Cynthia asked) ‘Having cup noodles?’
‘Yeah. Suddenly felt hungry.’
Just as I thought things would get awkward when Cynthia stepped out of the shower in just a towel around her chest, I was fairly impressed at how cool she was with it. Not only did she not mind, she actually sat down at the dining table (in the kitchen as I didn’t want to disturb them) and chatted with me.
For starters, Cynthia and her husband were my new tenants, occupying the empty common room that I figured could help to pay some bills. Since I worked odd days, the couple would also get maximum privacy on the periods I stayed out.
I took another few minutes to finish my food and washed the only utensil I used, a fork. It was at that moment I sensed her readiness to leave, but things quickly turned awry when I felt her hands on my waist. Stuck with soapy hands, I hastened my pace while she slid both her hands into my boxers to fondle my dick without shame.
Once I rinsed the soap off, I pulled her hands out and turned myself around, only for her to drop to her knees along with my loose boxers. I barely grabbed her head when she took my cock into her mouth, sucking it hungrily for all that was worth.
Given how ‘badly’ everything progressed, I focused my energy to keep my mouth shut, in fear of waking her husband up and turning this into a police case. At such ungodly hours, I could not be more surprised at how energetic she was, especially for a woman her age that has no problems sending me high into the heavens, and down onto the floor within a few minutes.
Just as I wished that the ‘attack’ was over, she ripped the towel off and climbed over my legs, swiftly tucking my saliva-slated erection into her pussy, to which its tightness and warmth, left me gasping for air. It was certainly an experience to be at the mercy of a sex-deprived wife, simply from how wildly she rocked her hips.
Hanging onto whatever corners of furniture I could reach for my dear life, it was all sex and no breaks for her. In that single (cowgirl) position, I was drained of my might to do anything else. For five or so minutes, after getting fucked mindless, she got up and led me by my cock to the dining table, where she parked her ass at the ledge.
Raising one foot over the top, she stuffed herself full of my cock and controlled my thrusts by my hips, slamming me into her groin at full force. When she tucked her arms into my chest and moaned for me to go harder, it was at that moment all my morality went out the windows.
I bent her over the table and shoved my cock up her pussy, pounding her pussy relentlessly on the heavy-duty table I once thought was pointless. She did her job by suppressing all the moans that would otherwise wake her husband, while I did mine by prodding her sensitive spots violently, to her pleasure.
In due time, it was time to cum and I unwillingly slowed down, only to hear from her, that it was safe. Well, I supposed ‘safe’ was defined differently for married women, since she sounded confident in her tone. I picked up my speed and fucked us to the end of the rainbow, cumming at the same time she squashed the loaf of bread to a heart-stopping orgasm.
Once we recovered from the explosive climax, we put everything back in place and returned to our rooms, where I shortly after, heard hushed, intense groans coming from their room.
Was that what she meant by ‘safe’? Cumming inside her before it was her husband’s turn to?
The next morning, after he left for work, Cynthia came over (to my room) and we had morning-sex, afternoon-sex, then before-her-husband-return-sex, and only let me get to my own work when she could get him started on the before-dinner-sex.
I am just glad that I didn’t have to reduce the rent for her share of work done.