Wife For A Week

The ocean surf brushed my hangover out of the way, instead of whacking it with my wife’s morning-alarm snores.

That was when I knew this wasn’t a dream. It was my reality.

A week of carefree paradise before we returned to the daily grind in Alabama.

Days that started off with me starting coffee before swearing at my electric razor. Or Jill blowing the dust off her elliptical in the garage, only to make a martyr’s face and join me on the patio with our respective sins of the flesh: coffee and cigarettes.

Seven years of living as “Jill and Roy” had never felt anything but…lucky.

We’d raised a couple of teenagers and moved up from a beater to a nine-year old Camry.

Had the sex gotten routine and less frequent? Take a wild guess.

Was the highlight of my week throughout the years playing a round of 18 holes with the other ball-and-chained members of the Pigskin Tavern? Yes.

But it was only because Jill managed to keep the roof from caving in with her reliable-ass dental hygienist job. All I wanted now was to make her happy.

So, we’d been saving.

And this once-in-a-lifetime cruise (on the over-rich end of the spectrum) was Jill and Roy getting what they deserved.

Speaking of which...

I looked over at the bed.

The comforter was tangled at Jill’s waist, leaving her butt naked to me. At thirty-eight, her body was a topography of the life we’d built together—the swell of her hip from carrying our kids, the lines of her back. Her ass, full and pale in the dim stateroom light, was turned just enough in my direction.

A deep, hungry ache invaded my swollen cock. I loved that ass. I loved her, but in that moment, I wanted to own her.

I gave thanks for her snoring.

My cock was a hot, insistent steel beam against my thigh. I cuppedmyself through the thin cotton of my boxers, applying firm, even pressure.

The image of her from last night at dinner rolled through my mind—leaning over the table, the front of her dress open enough to offer a peek of the slope of her breasts.

My thumb circled the tip, already sticky with pre-cum. I didn’t just love her. I needed to be inside her.

Our morning sex marathons had gone the way of the dodo, but in my opinion, the back seat of the Camry was responsible for a resurgent spark of lust in my wife while our kids were visiting colleges.

She was even pretty good at not rolling her eyes when I cummed halfway through the affair—just my body’s way of letting me know how right the situation was.

She twisted under the sheets, moaned and wedged a pillow between her legs, smooth thighs flexing.

The rush in my boxers didn’t ease off, but I didn’t have the heart to wake her. Not on vacation.

She was probably dreaming about the lobster and chocolate-covered strawberries she’d already been gushing about at formal dinner.

“Staring at me again?” she asked, breaking the hush. She was awake.

I smiled at her. “Who told you?”

“Creeper,” she said, throwing a pillow at me and missing spectacularly.

I climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under my knees. On top of her. Morning breath be damned, I kissed her, my tongue tangling into her mouth.

Jill gasped into the kiss, then her hands were on my ass, pulling me down, and she snaked her legs around my waist, heels digging into the small of my back.

My dick sprang loose, stiff and full, and I ground on her, feeling the heat of her cunt through her panties. She was already wet—the pink silk was drenched.

“Fuck, Jill,” I gritted at her neck.

“Now, Roy,” she whispered, her voice throaty with sleep. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

I hooked my fingers in the side of her panties and ripped them down, not off, just enough. Then I was pushing into her, and she was so fucking tight and hot and hers.

A choked groan ripped out of me.

She arched up, taking me deeper, her nails scoring my shoulders. There was no finesse. It was seven years of routine-boy bullshitted out through my frantic thrusts.

The queen bed slammed against the wall in time with my drives. Her moans weren’t muffled; they were wide open, gasping pants against my ear.

“There, right there, god—