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Her husband has filled her house with chintz. To keep it real I fuck her on the floor.
--
They're stripping each other the second the lock clicks shut, rough kisses and experienced fingers pushing buttons through holes, pulling down zips, dragging off roles. Clothes litter the floor to the living room, panties paired together mere inches from their owners.
Pants fill the room as Kate bites Abby's neck, her fingers already between her legs as Abby squirms and moans and begs for more. Each kiss moves lower, lips and tongue worshipping taut nipples, teeth dragging over pliant curves. And oh, sweet, licentious blessings as Kate croons filth, telling Abby how many times she'll come on the floor before she's allowed to touch her, kiss her back, tongue fuck her cunt in Doctor Z's office.
That image, that thought, draws greater gasps and willing wetness from Abby, legs trying to close as the first orgasm hits. Kate holds her open, fingers deep within her pussy, watching with delighted eyes as the flush recedes from Abby's chest. Kissing her hip, the onslaught begins again. Fingers moving deep within, her mouth starts delicate teases, light brushes along the seam where thigh and hip meet. In ever decreasing circles her kisses move closer to the one spot Abby so desperately wants her to touch.
She's burning up now, hips bucking to meet the thrusts of Kate's fingers, trying to feel mouth on clit, gasping, swearing, thanking as Kate's tongue works it's magic upon her.
It's two more orgasms before Kate let's her up, another in the kitchen, on the table, "A perfect meal for one," Kate murmurs, sitting down and dragging Abby's body to her mouth. By the time they're in the office, Abby's on fire, teasing Kate back, leaving hickeys, praying she can keep her cool long enough to get Kate off. She almost becomes undone as Kate lounged in her husband's office chair, one leg thrown lazily over an arm, her pussy glistening in the soft summer sun.
On her knees she finds this much more enjoyable. Lapping at her lover's cunt with wild abandon, she moans as Kate's fingers tangle in her hair, her leg twining over her shoulder and back to keep her close. She doesn't stop talking, telling Abby how good she is, how good her tongue makes her feel, how she can eat pussy like a pro. All thoughts centered on Kate, on making her so dizzy with arousal and orgasms that the words peter out, leaving only moans and groans and tugs on hair and waves of delight.
Giggles follow closely, kisses and embraces and fingers entwining and bodies collapsing (finally) into bed, legs locking as blue eyes stare deeply into brown ones. They always end up here, in her bed, the drapes wide open to let the sunshine in. They kiss. They talk. They dream of other times, other places, parallel universes where a husband hadn't taken the place that was so rightfully Kate's, a universe where Abby had been brave.
By the door, as Kate leaves again, she kisses Abby sweetly, reverently, bestowing all the love inside her soul in one last dizzying touch. "Next week?"
Abby nods, squeezes Kate's fingers, smiles brightly. The snick of the door closing is just part of their rhythm; it'll soon open again.
(And as Will eats his breakfast at the table, reading the papers, Abby takes solace in knowing her pussy is finally getting the attention she deserves.)