Dawn was nowhere to be seen when I awoke on Thursday, but I got up anyway, hearing the cock pheasant’s warning call from beyond the pale. There was a fox about by the sound of it.

I found both slippers and put them on, along with a dressing gown which was not even inside out for once, and by the light of my mobile phone I went into the kitchen to make some tea.

One of the cats had left me a neat parcel of rabbit viscera on the floor, another a few feathers from a hedge sparrow on one of the chairs. I filled the kettle and set it to boil then went back out onto the veranda to see whatever might be seen. By the look of things it was going to be a beautiful day, at least, so far as I could ascertain. Apparently no-one had managed to mess up any of it yet.

There was always time of course, so while the kettle worked it way up to a boil I sharpened my axe. I always feel safer with a good sharp axe close at hand. You know there are a lot of funny people about these days and you can’t be too careful.

The kettle boiled, clicked off and I made some tea. Two mugs of it, one for me and one for her. The one for her I put half fat milk into and took it upstairs. She was still asleep when I went into the room. Asleep and partly uncovered like something you might see abandoned in a skip. Which posed problems for me, several, because already, halfway into the forth paragraph I’d used several words or phrases which most Americans weren’t familiar with. They have neither tea nor electric kettles for a start and as for ‘skip’ well they’d probably associate that with the words ‘hop and jump’ That was one of the reasons for the newly sharpened axe of course, because like I said, there are a lot of funny people about and you can’t be too careful.

Thankfully there is a moderately large stretch of water between us and most of America. She woke up when she heard me tripping over a heap of shoes and swearing most volubly. I did spill some of her tea as well.

When she woke she glared at me, glowered at me while I, holding the mug of tea reverentially gazed back at her tits. She always sleeps with nothing on even when I am not with her. She says that way she’ll always ready for any eventuality. I suppose that includes an earthquake or the house burning down.

I put the tea in the space provided on the bedside table. There was nowhere else it would go amid all the other junk. She jerked, grimaced, writhing for a while until she remembered how her feet and legs worked. Then like an apparition in bulging pink swearwords she erupted from the bed and blundered her way majestically in search of the loo. She gave no indication that she wished me to follow her; she likes me to sometimes. Bathroom humour you know……….

But this time, no. So I waited there, dressing gown poised, not inside out, while her tea cooled imperceptibly, as did my own.

She was plumpish looking when she came back, Niagara falls singing noisily behind her. Succulently plumpish, I could tell by the way her bits drooped down.

“Gettin’ in or goin’ out?” she asked. It was a silly question really.

“Spose I’ll get in if I can get in” I said, trying to make it sound as if I couldn’t really be bothered.

She stood still for a moment, like a woman shaped lot of trouble brewing, and just looked at me. There was a wet mark where she’d been lying in the bed. It was distinctively shaped and I knew without testing it that it would be quite smelly.

“You been playin’ with yourself again?” I asked.

“Only a little” she said “Don’t let it bother you”

I know I should sleep with her more but the summer nights are so nice right now. If it turns thundery tomorrow or the day after I might not get another chance so I sleep out while I can and she sleeps alone, for the most part, except for her rabbit and a very old teddy. We’ve had words about it before though, she accusing me of not desiring her any more and me telling her not to be so ridiculous.

“I’ll always fancy you!” I tell her.

“Then why won’t you sleep with me?” she retorts.

“Well why don’t you sleep with me instead?” is usually what I say.

We stare at each other for a moment, while respectively our teas grow cold.

“I don’t like it outside. There are spiders” she says.

“And I don’t like it inside because I get too hot and the bed creaks!” I tell her.

Stalemate once again!

“Well fuck you!” she says, sitting down on the bed.

“And fuck you too!” I retort.

“I wish you would!” she says.

So I do.

…………….

Mary-Jane took her knickers off in the car on the way home on Friday. They were white cotton ones with little embroidered flowers here and there. When we stopped at the lights she held them up so that I could sniff them. Predictably they smelled strongly of eight hours worth of hot, well used cunt.

Mary-Jane isn’t bothered by loudly honking taxi drivers or shocked people staring at her from a bus. She’ll strip off anywhere, whenever she feels like it. Right down to nothing at the drop of a hat. By the time we reached the motorway she’d only her blouse left.

It’s a fantastically scenic ten miles of motorway between the town where my office is and Mary-Jane’s home. I suppose, with the bits of road at either end of it the journey is more likely twenty, and Mary-Jane and I always make the best of it.

I don’t care that she has a bad name in the office or that my wife dislikes her and despises what she does. She knows what we get up to of course; we have no secrets. In fact Mary-Jane is the one topic we talk about most.

“I s’pose you’ve been fucking that woman again, have you?” she asked me gloomily.

“Mary-Jane?” I say brightly “oh yes!”

“You’ll get a dose one of these days!” she says.

“No chance” I tell her “Mary-Jane is very clean!”

This brings out the usual snort.

“Clean!” she says “If she lets you then it stands to reason she’ll let other men!”

I don’t argue with her. There is no point. The simple fact is Mary-Jane likes sex like no other woman I’ve ever met. Likes it so much rarely a day passes when she isn’t doing it. Lots of times! No I mean lots as in several! And no, not always with me either. For years she’s been sexually active with other men as well as with me, with my knowledge of course. No one man on earth could have satisfied her on his own, so it was either share her with others or lose her completely. There was a certain weird sort of thrill anyway, knowing that when she got into my car ready to go home she would, more often than not, still be recovering from her most recent fuck. Sometimes I could smell the cum on her skin when she got in the car, very often her face would still be flushed with the heat of what she had done only a few moments before. Whether she had a bad name in the office I suppose was a matter of opinion. Certainly I’d heard both good and bad things said of her. What mattered was it didn’t affect her work or anyone she worked with either to any significant extent.

………………

An early Pink Floyd track howls and wails while Mary-Jane sucks me as I drive along the motorway. She is lying low in her side of the car in one of the peculiarly contorted positions she has perfected over the years and is perfectly comfortable. Tarmac sings under our wheels and I feel like singing too. It is Friday and Mary-Jane is all mine for an entire weekend.

Yes, of course She knows. Do you think I wouldn’t tell her? No, She was pleased to hear it because it gave her an excuse to go and stay with her mother. They’d be chewing the cud and no mistake, by now, and making my ears burn too!

“Screwing around again is he?” mother in law would ask.

She’d nod matter of factly.

“Never mind dear!” she’d be told “He’ll be back when he realises he can’t find another one like you!”

Oh they’d commiserate with each other miserably, going over old times when I’d done it before, renewing their hatred of all things male and me in particular.

Commiserating is really good for their morale I reckon. Yes it probably does the pair of them the world of good. Not as good as plain old fashioned energetic shagging will do for me and Mary-Jane but that’s another tale to be told. Probably the tale with the axe in it, but I don’t know. I think you’ll have to be careful with it anyway Eugene, after all it is as sharp as hell.

Sometime before the exit the Pink Floyd track changes to ‘A saucerful of secrets’ and Mary-Jane allows me to cum, which I do, surging into her mouth like a gallon of white sauce in a bursting balloon. She takes it all, all in her stride, hardly murmuring though I do feel her give a couple of gulps.

I am comforted by her self satisfied look and the fact that she allowed a tiny dribble of my stuff to trickle an inch down her chin. She’s thoughtful like that and its her clever little way of letting me know that all is well.

We bump up the sliproad and slow at the top where a couple of big wheelers are challenging everyone else. Mary-Jane sits up and adjusts the rake of her blouse. Her apartment has it’s own garaging but to open the gates one of us will have to get out.

We beat both the big wheelers at the off, causing one of them to sound his horn exasperatedly. Ten minutes later I am opening the gates at the front of Mary-Janes garage.

“I don’t think I’ve ever known a girl quite as sexy as you! I tell her as we stagger into her apartment.

Mary-Jane grins, looks at me cheekily, says:

“I bet you say that to all the girls!”

And its true, I do!

© Aahlu. 080710

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