Crikey – By Elsie

Her. Marlena. He can’t see her because his eyes are closed, but there is no mistaking who it is. He can feel her–her hair tickling all across his chest, and she isn’t being particularly careful with her long fingernails as they dig into him, but that just makes him more aware of her.

 

Gloriously naked, he can feel her pressing her damp bottom against his lap while she rides him hard, her back to him. Being on top had always been a power position for her, a way to dominate and take. But with John it is different. It is always different. One of his hands supporting her weight on her hip, guiding her in strong and fluid motions, the other wraps around the base of her neck, rubbing her hair and occasionally twisting her neck up to kiss him, tongues tasting slightly like coffee and a lot like excitement.

 

Both hands on her breasts now, stroking down, hard, over her ribs and through the supple curves of her waist. His hands are exciting. Strong, demanding. They are trying to rake emotions right out of her skin.

 

He is trying to make her feel. To transmit his emotion, his passion for her, right through her skin. The pressure of his big palms on her back. The pressure of his fingers, the pleasure. The glorious pressure of him inside her, moving, stretching her, filling her whole.

 

The blood rushes to his head. The breath is squeezed from her body by the pressure of the pleasure, building, building, building.

 

Suddenly he slides out of her completely, and she pouts in the that childish way of hers that he finds so endearing. Cannot help the small whimper of frustration. He enjoys teasing her. She bites her bottom lip and wiggles her bottom against him, pleading. He finds it sexy.

 

John squeezes himself inside a little. Just the head. She spreads her thighs around him further, cradling him, and suddenly it’s so easy. He’s sliding into her to the hilt. Rocking with her, kissing her gasping mouth over and over and over. Spreading wet kisses across her back, glistening with sweat, eating it up. Her hands claw his legs as she leans forward. The pain only serves to heighten his pleasure. He idly thinks that most people probably never pictured Marlena Evans as the sheet-grabber type.

 

Nor as a screamer. She thrusts up above him as she comes, fierce and strong. She is one stiff muscle from ankle to throat and yells for all she is worth towards the air around her where just 100 feet away various neighbors sit and drink their tea and talk of proper things.

 

He grasps Marlena’s hips, shuddering, so close to release himself. He pulls her hair and make her look him in the eye as it starts, every part of him, every emotion and sensation inching its way to the tip of his cock. And Marlena never falters, she is with him every step of the way, just as she always is.

 

He gives in to the pleasure and chokes out his cries into her mouth. She swallows them and kisses him, twice on the lips and then over and over, as far as she can reach from her particular angle.

 

And then she comes again. Sobbing this time, wildly. So good, So liberating. Marlena feels the burning of the acid in her thigh muscles. The rasp of dry air in her ripped and crying throat.

 

They are vaguely aware of a foreign disturbance, a jingle perhaps, from somewhere. Somewhere, it can’t possibley be a part of their reality.

 

And suddenly they are not alone. Marlena is mid orgasm and her her mind is reaching to grasp what is happening.

 

“Crikey!” comes a very real cry from a very real Brady. His eyes are wide and are unable to tear away from what he is seeing. His parents, whom he always suspected enjoyed a very active sex life, sit before him, in all their naked glory. It seems too bizarre to be true, he tells himself, but after a moment, he focuses again, and John and Marlena are still there, joined intimately.

 

Marlena leans forward on John’s legs and gathers her legs together, in an effort to preserve some sort of modesty. John gathers a light throw together over her body, and both are hit by a sudden sheet of agony. Marlena thinks she may topple over. Her legs are weak and painful, too.

 

John catches her, supports her. Neither has the courage to speak.

 

Brady finally breaks the silence in his infinite wisdom,

 

“That’s a huge cock!” while he silently laments his own shortcomings.

 

John is silent but for a moment, “Yes, son,” he nods slowly, “Yes, it is.”

 

Finis ( buahaha)