Trouble at Ten
by parthenogenesis

Matthew awoke slowly to the delicious sensation of warm lips wrapped around his hard cock. When he'd come fully to consciousness, his head popped from the pillow.

"Monica! What are you doing?"

"Giving you a blowjob, of course, silly," she said, her shining lips poised over his shining prick.

"But it's Monday morning! We can't do this now! I'll be late for work!"

"You can be late and you know it," she said. "You're not getting away from me this morning, big boy. I had such a dream last night."

Monica straightened up, lifted her leg over him, settled snugly on his pole, and moved her hips languorously.

My God, Matthew thought, that must have been one hell of a dream. She's nothing but fluid, slow motion, and clench. And he knew that, in fact, he was not going to get away this morning.

He also knew that being late to work wasn't a problem. The problem was that if his wife did this to him at eight, his secretary was going to be terribly annoyed with him at ten.