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finesse. She needed an orgasm. How long had it been, she wondered, but forgot to care as she hooked her fingers and banged that plump spot deep in her pussy into submission.

      Her fingers delivered just the right amount of pressure while visions of a twenty-something young man ricocheted around inside her head. That soft T-shirt, those tanned hands, grey-green eyes and plump kissable lips. The short brown hair that fell just so over his brow and, Jesus God, that honeyed twang saying missus …

      Gina came with a hoarse cry that she immediately stifled by biting her lips. Her back slapped the whitewashed wall and she continued to thrust slowly as her pussy flickered with aftershocks. She rolled a lazy fingertip over her clit and enjoyed the sudden and brisk sweetness of the moment. How long had it been since she’d done that?

      A sharp knock made her jump.

      ‘Yes?’

      It had to be Stuart, who else would it be? But it still startled her and for a moment her stunned brain supplied her with a porno-movie vision of the young stud standing on the other side of the door. Knocking. Wanting to come in and milk another sugary orgasm out of her … his way.

      ‘Are you OK?’

      It was Stuart. Of course it is, you twit!

      ‘I’m fine. Just finishing up. Why?’

      Her voice was high and watery and guilty as hell. But it had been so good. So unexpected and so … feral. Her hands were shaking and she washed them well to get rid of the earthy scent of her own sex.

      ‘I thought I heard you yell,’ he said to the door. When she pulled it open, he stepped back startled for a moment. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

      ‘I am. Why?’

      ‘You’re flushed is all.’ He put the back of his hand to her cheek as if to prove it.

      Gina didn’t see it coming. She simply grabbed her unsuspecting husband by his ears and hauled him in for a kiss.

      ‘Gina, are you –?’

      ‘Shut up. Shut up. Have you ever done it in a laundry room before?’

      ‘No,’ Stuart sighed as she kissed his neck greedily.

      ‘Take your pants off.’

      Stuart didn’t take much convincing. Twenty years of marriage had slowed them down a bit but they still got it on regularly and were pretty creative. But nothing like this. Not this hurried heated coupling that usually came only from brand-new connections.

      He licked her nipples the way he always did but randomly decided to bite and the bites shot heat right through her middle, making her chest burn and her pussy flex. Gina pushed him away, turned her back and presented herself. Ass high, shorts tangled on one ankle, body slick and ready for him.

      ‘Fuck me.’

      ‘Gi–’

      ‘Do it. Put it in me.’

      He looked like a man who’d been tasered but he approached her, cock in hand, and slid the weeping tip of himself to her split. Stuart put the head in – only the head – the pressure almost unbearable to her. Gina grunted, pushed back on him, impaling herself.

      When he entered her, they both stilled, groaned. And then her proper kind husband shoved her upper body down on the washing machine and truly gave it to her, at one point thrusting so hard into her wet cunt that only the tips of her toes were touching the floor. The washing machine grunted and wheezed like a third part and, when Gina growled, ‘Pinch me,’ Stuart groaned and pinched her hard.

      His lips were pressed together hard and she knew he was close. Gina’s orgasm rocketed towards her, slippery and delicious. She flexed up around him, pushed her pelvis to the cool metal and closed her eyes.

      Well-worn cotton, grey-green eyes, sticky-sweet drawl. She came.

      Stuart muttered, ‘Thank God.’ His fingers bit deep into her hips as he drove into her and then he was coming too, letting loose some warrior cry she’d never heard from him before.

      When they finally parted, he kissed her, pushing a long stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. ‘What got into you?’

      She shrugged. Missus … ‘Nothing. I guess I just got a bit overheated.’

      Stuart smiled. And Gina, she couldn’t help grinning like an idiot.

      * * *

      Stuart was asleep. Snuggled up in their proper bed with their proper white sheets and their dust ruffle. The kinky laundry-room doggie-style sex over but not forgotten. Stuart had been super-attentive all night and Gina had repeatedly found herself flushed, warm and smiling for no reason.

      Gina wandered into the guest room with a glass of wine. Her summer robe clutched tight around her middle. Her body pleasantly sore, her mind pleasantly astounded.

      Rick from Alabama waiting for school to start

      It whispered through her mind and Gina sipped her wine and said, ‘Has made you a pervert.’

      She blinked once, twice, three times, sure that what she was seeing out of the guest-room window was a hallucination. Too much sun, too much lust, too many orgasms – as if there were such a thing – had twisted her mind. But the mirage of a lean handsome young man raised a hand to her and smiled.

      In what must be his new room, at least until school started, stood Rick, plainly visible to her across the small expanses of their dark back yards. From her perspective, a doll-sized but perfectly rendered version of himself.

      Shirtless.

      ‘Oh, God.’

      There were several heartbeats where they simply stared. She wondered what he would do. She also wondered why she hadn’t done the sane thing and tossed him a friendly wave and then left the room. Or shut the curtains. Or anything that would indicate she had sense left in her head.

      ‘Oh, God,’ she echoed herself because Rick was unbuttoning his jeans and drawing down the zipper.

      His gaze remained pinned to hers. Apparently, he could make her out just by the small lamp that automatically came on when the room grew dark. Gina had never been grateful that her backyard was so small and the houses on their block were so close … until now.

      Her pussy flexed wetly, stomach dropping as if she were in free-fall. Gina pressed her thighs together only to discover that it enhanced the feeling instead of quelling it. In his brightly lit room, Rick with the languid drawl pushed his jeans down and took his cock in hand.

      Even from the distance, she could tell he was hung. And hung wasn’t even a word she’d normally use, but it suited this young man.

      ‘Oh, Lord. Look away, woman.’ But she knew she wouldn’t so she ignored her own words.

      The most sinful part of it all was that gaze of his locked on her. He knew she was there. He knew she was watching. And he wanted her to see.

      That alone set off another slippery clench deep in her cunt and she tightened those internal muscles even further to make the pleasure last. She did it again, and again, as he stroked his cock and kept his eyes on her.

      He was close to the window. So close that she wondered if he could feel the warmth of the day still trapped in the glass like she could. Gina had taken several steps forward without even realising it.

       The better to see you with, my dear …

      A burble of nervous laughter escaped her but she pressed her body, the cool silk robe whispering softly, to the warm windowpane.

      He did the same.

      His fist slipped up and down his length. She watched him squeeze, manhandling himself way harder than she would ever think to touch a man. He was rough and rude and fast on his erection and his half-smile turned her almost inside out. A small trickle of fluid escaped her and kissed

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