After a week of crisscrossing the state with 3 kids in a minivan, we were beyond wiped out. So last night, when we settled in for bed, sex was not exactly the first thought we shared. And if/when the subject did come up, there would likely have been a fistfight over who was to do the driving, which really doesn’t differ much from the previous week. My neck and shoulders were tender and sore from hunching over the steering wheel. I thought that leaning forward those few more inches would keep the sounds of small voices asking ‘are we there yet?’ from reaching my ears. Yeah, it didn’t work. But that was now a distant, albeit slightly grating, memory. It was bedtime.

We lay there silently, neither of us moving but both knowing we had gone days without having each other and one of us was going to have to give. This time it was me. I rolled on my side and put my arm around his waist. He jumped and rolled over just enough to give me the room I needed for fondling. I rubbed his cock softly and slowly, mostly because I was too tired to exert myself anymore and partly because I love the way I can feel every vein and ridge in his growing erection under the soft

touch of my fingertips. It wasn’t long before his breathing and quiet moans let on that he was ready for more. I pushed the pile of blankets down to his feet, leaned over and licked all around the head of his cock, getting it just wet enough to slide right between my lips and up against my tongue. Again, I started slowly, swallowing every inch of him, and gradually picking up the pace until I couldn’t take it anymore. He was going to cum and I wanted to see it. I lay down next to him again, my head on his chest, and watched him stroke his cock. Of course I joined in. How could I not join in? As I watched his hand work its way up and down the shaft, I rubbed my clit. There was nothing slow about this. I was ready to explode. I worked my clit while it screamed for mercy. Or maybe that was me; it’s really hazy at this point.

Once we were both started, it took probably less than a minute for us to come. Watching him shoot and the mess he made all over his hand sent me into a frenzy and seconds later, the spasms pulled my finger slightly inside me. I lay there, my hand squeezed between my legs. We were spent. For a few minutes it was silent; then I heard the words, “Is there any chance you could get me a towel or something?” Getting a towel meant getting out of the comfort of the bed. And I did. Ah, the things you do for love…