1. Sleep of the Guilty


    Date: 2/15/2015, Categories: Wife Lovers, Author: marlowe, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    against a table bringing several glasses spilling to the floor, Frank decided it was time for Jimmy to go. He wasn’t overjoyed when Frank asked him to help Sandra with her drunken cargo, but nevertheless he reluctantly agreed to the task. The journey to Sandra’s house wasn’t considered a long walk, but when you’re carrying a dead weight he knew it would be some time before they were able to return to the party. There was an uncanny stillness to the sacred night and the season’s first snow. A flurry of snowflakes danced in the wind like large white moths, flickering past the street lights, falling to earth leaving a light covering under foot. With Sandra clutching one arm and Mark the other they dragged Jimmy’s lifeless body along the slippery footpath. Apart from the occasional grunt from Jimmy followed by Sandra’s usual response, ‘fucking arsehole,’ the journey was silent and slow. Getting Jimmy to the house and opening the front door was the easy part. Dragging him up the creaking stairs and into bed was more of a challenge. He wasn’t surprised to see an overflowing ashtray, a few empty beer cans and a whisky bottle littering the bedroom floor, but he was surprised to see his Royal Northumberland Fusiliers uniform hanging proudly on a coat hanger and his boots gleaming like a mirror on the floor by the bed. Lying on his back with his eyes closed and a trace of drool running from the corner of his mouth, Jimmy lay motionless on the bed. After removing his shoes and making ...
    sure he was reasonably comfortable there wasn’t much more they could do. It was time to get back to the party. Stepping back from the bedroom, the force of her lower body pressing urgently against his buttocks and her heaving breasts flattening against his back prevented his retreat. The warmth of her breath and the pulse of her lips peppering soft kisses along the back of his neck and a hand stroking his thigh and squeezing his testicles suddenly fed his panic. Shuffling uncomfortably on his feet and craning his neck to look over his shoulder, shooting her a look of disapproval and silently mouthing, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ snorting a nervous gasp when it came out in more of a whisper. Moving away from the bedroom door to the refuge of the landing, the floorboards creaking under their weight, glancing back to check on Jimmy’s semi-unconscious status, the relief that he hadn’t moved forcing a nervous sigh and a reminder for caution. There was a new intensity to Sandra’s demeanour. She hadn’t forgotten her playful toy. She was hot. She was dirty. She was impatient. She wanted fucked. A whisper of movement, the fire of passion sweeping away the need for caution, a wanting woman driven by irresistible urges, a woman craving for fulfilment, an impatient woman desperate to feel his awesome limb filling her body again. Impulse flirting with expectation, excitement courting danger, the closeness of two bodies coming together stimulating arousal, her eyes glaring with erotic ...
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