I was tired out after one set of doubles. Sara was a much better tennis player than me, almost a match for David, and able to hold her own with my husband Eliot. She didn't want to stop playing. We had a quick lunch on the patio, sandwiches, and iced tea, and she and Eliot went back out on the court to play another match. I had cooled down some, at least, but I didn't want to go back onto the court. It was afternoon now, and it was going to heat up soon.

David helped me clear up, picking up the plates. There wasn't really any food to dispose of, everyone had been hungry.

The air-conditioning felt great. It had been a fairly cool morning, but the patio had reflected the noonday sun and made me too warm.

I put the dishes in the sink, offered David a beer, and plopped down on the sofa, crossing my legs under me. David sat down next to me as I picked up the TV remote. “Want to watch something?” I asked.

“As long as it's not tennis,” he said. “Although I do love a woman in a tennis skirt.”

“Or in any skirt,” I said.

“I love you in that skirt,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said.

“I'll let you keep it on,” he said, reaching for my panties.

“No David,” I said.

“It's inevitable,” he said.

“Eliot and Sara could come in anytime,” I pointed out.

“They won't,” he said as his fingers touched me between the legs.

“Not now,” I insisted.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties.

“I'm sweaty, and I smell bad, and I haven't shaved,” I said. “This isn't the perfect time.”

“We can't wait forever until the perfect time,” he said.

I couldn't think of an answer to that. We'd flirted since the day we'd met, had a couple of make out sessions that ended just short of third base. It was inevitable like he said. I lifted my ass off the sofa, and uncrossed my legs, letting him slide my panties down my legs and off my feet.

“Not here,” I said.

“Where?” he asked. He proceeded to bury his face between my legs. I felt his tongue along my pussy lips, then he found my clit.

“David,” I said.

“The bedroom?” I asked.

“That would be wrong,” he said. “In the sanctity of your marriage bed.”

I almost slapped him, then the absurdity of his unwillingness to defile my marriage bed while licking my pussy made me laugh instead.

“You sure do get wet,” he said. “And in a hurry, too. Sara takes a lot of work, and then I suspect she's slipping in some KY sometimes.”

I was very wet. Not really surprisingly wet, but a bit wetter than the time spent on foreplay would justify. I lubricate pretty well in inevitable situations. My pussy wants to be accommodating. I lifted my ass for him again as he slipped a throw pillow under me.

He kneeled between my legs and started taking his dick out of his shorts. I reached forward and pulled them down a bit, helping him out. He was as big as Eliot, thick and veiny, with a beautiful mushroom head. I'd had my mouth on it one night, just my lips, and only briefly. He didn't offer to let me have my mouth on it now, though. He thumped the head against my pussy, lifting me a bit, and smacking my clit with his dick.

I wondered if Eliot had told him I liked that. What do men talk about?

“Fuck me,” I said.

I was ready to fuck, wanted his thick long cock inside me, but I wanted to hurry him along, nervous that we'd be caught.

He slipped it into me, opening me with the tip, and giving me a couple of nudges before spreading me open and sliding into me as deeply as he could.

“I've waited so long for this,” he said.

He could have waited a bit longer, I thought, clenching myself around him.

“That is so nice,” he said.

“Fuck me,” I said.

He slowly slid his dick out of me, then slid it slowly back in.

As he did, he rubbed my clit with his hand. It felt really good. I had always thought it would be nice with David, but not this nice. I grabbed his ass and pulled him toward me as I pushed myself toward him.

“Fuck me hard,” I demanded.

He began to accelerate his strokes, to drive into me a bit harder and faster. I liked the way his balls felt when they slapped my ass. I urged him on, “Harder, harder.”

He slammed into me, bringing my ass up off the pillow with each thrust. Over and over, harder and harder, faster and faster. I was cumming, and I wanted him to fuck me forever. I wanted his dick to stay inside me, to live in my pussy.

As I writhed in orgasm, trying not to scream, he pounded away at me.

“Let me on top,” I said.

He let me up and lay prone on the sofa. I slid down on top of his stiff cock and began to move around, hoping to make him come quickly. He grabbed my ass, squeezed my cheeks, gave me a good smack, and lifted to meet me. I was on the verge of coming again. I cried out, this time, letting myself go in my moment of ecstasy. I collapsed on his chest. Without a word, he flipped me over, reentered me, and began to fuck me from behind.

My favorite position. My go to position when I'm eager to be fucked into submission.

“Yes,” I said. “Fuck me. Take my pussy. Show me who's boss.”

I thought I was going to have to say, 'Pull my hair and smack my ass,' but he picked up on that.

He had my long red hair in one hand, holding my head back, and smacked my ass with the other.

“Yes,” I said.

Another smack.

I felt his hand move gently over the cheeks of my ass, felt one of his fingers rubbing my asshole, playing with the pucker. I bucked back against him and came again. This time, he buried himself in me, and I could feel his body twitch and jerk as he unloaded his come into me.

He pulled me back against him, his dick still inside me, and held me in his arms until it grew flaccid and slid out.

“I'm dripping on the sofa,” I said, jumping to my feet. This is the very thing I didn't want. His come was running out of me and as I stood, a big dollop dropped right to the floor.

I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a bunch of paper towels. I started scrubbing the wet place on the carpet and handed a handful to David. “Wipe it off the couch,” I said.

“It's still dripping,” he said, patting my ass as I knelt to get his seed off my carpet.

I grabbed another handful of towels and wiped myself, then wiped down his wet cock.

“You need to wash that,” I said. “Before Sara smells me on you.”

“We could shower,” he suggested.

“No,” I said. “Just clean off, and try to look normal. I continued to scrub away as he walked toward the bathroom. I'd need to change, of course. That was alright. I needed to shower. I walked upstairs, dropped my tennis skirt and my shirt and bra into the hamper, and took a quick shower. I put on a shower cap so that I wouldn't get my hair wet. I wanted to be clean, but not give evidence that I'd needed a shower.

I changed into shorts and a tee shirt before coming back downstairs. David was sitting on the couch, twirling my panties around his finger.

“You missed some evidence,” he said, holding them to his nose.

The door opened and we heard Eliot and Sara's voices. I grabbed the panties and had no idea what to do with them. David quickly grabbed them back and put them in his pocket, just as Sara and David came into the room.

“It's too hot out,” Sara said.

“She had mercy on me,” Eliot said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“Annie had mercy on me too,” David said. “Kept the TV off the Tennis Channel.”