For Better or Worse


 His eyes were closed, but he knew her skin was California tan.  He imagined her running down a sandy beach somewhere, like in that movie.  He frowned, trying to remember the name of it.  It was on the tip of his tongue.  Fuck, he hated when that happened.
She leaned forward, tendrils of her sun-kissed blonde hair caressing his neck, her nipples brushing his.  She made undulating figure eights with them all over his chest.
“10”!  That was it, yeah.  She didn’t have braids but she was a ten.  Curves to spare too.  Made the chick in that movie look like a stick.
Content, Hank got back to the business at hand, concentrating on the way her cunt seemed to suckle his cock.  He was going to cum soon.  Greedy little slut was gonna to make him shoot.
He kept his hands at his sides, clenching tangles of sheets.  She didn’t care if he did anything other than lie here and let her ride his pole.  He could feel how wet she was, how much she wanted him, needed him even.
His cock jerked inside her and his thoughts slipped again, this time to her hot little roommate.  Oh, fuck yeah.  He couldn’t remember her name and didn’t really care.  She was a brunette and built for comfort.  He wondered what would happen if she came home right now.  He could totally imagine her climbing right up onto the bed with them.  She had a tight little ass.  He’d like to fuck it.  She’d like that; he could tell just by looking at her.
He would spread the blonde out and eat her pretty, shaved puss while plugging the smart-looking brunette whose name he’d forgotten.  It’d be a pretzel.  He’d be the only comfortable one, but that’d be just fine.  Fine, fine, fine.
He shot his wad, pumping her full of jizz.  Too soon but, when the pussy was this good, he wasn’t about to complain.
He barely registered her sigh as she rolled off of him; he was already dozing.
“Are you asleep already?”  Susan flopped onto her back and jerked her nightgown down.  She scooted as far away from him as she could get, not allowing even a toe to touch him under the sheets.
Motherfucker.  He always did this shit.
She’d made him a nice dinner, dressed up, even put a little makeup on.  She knew he liked that.  They’d watched old “Baywatch” reruns after they ate.  There was some kind of marathon on.
He’d barely even talked to her until it had been time for bed.  Then, he’d done the nuzzling-one kiss-wandering-hand thing.  She was familiar with this routine.  His hips would press into hers; this was the signal that meant he wanted to fuck.  His half-hard cock pushed into her belly, his fingers would give her nipple a couple of pinches, maybe a twist, and then his hand would slide south.
His eyes would be squeezed tight.  She knew because she always opened hers in the middle of his “seduction”.  Didn’t matter how long she stared, he never once looked at her.
She’d tried to talk to him, tried sex toys and lingerie.  He’d liked all that just fine, but it didn’t seem to change the way he did things.  He just did them with sex toys, with her wearing lingerie.
She’d felt guilty at first, thinking about other people (better people) during sex.  But, really who could blame her?  Tonight, she’d thought about that blonde chick on “Baywatch”.  Pamela Anderson played her.  Stupid as hell but who cared in bed and in a fantasy?
She’d never been with a woman before, but Pam was just her type, so different from her own redheaded, plump self; Susan burned, never tanned.  She bet that girl would taste like sunshine and would smell like the sea.
Susan had always thought there was something going on with that dark-haired dude on the show too.  The two of them just had a way of looking at each other that had “affair” written all over it.  What the fuck was his name?  Whatever.  She could picture him sitting in that tall white chair on the beach, jerking off, his hungry cock sticking out of those sexy as hell shorts.
When she’d ridden Hank tonight, she’d imagined herself (about forty pounds thinner, with skin like mocha java) climbing the tower and making that man vow to never use his hand again.  In the middle of all this, Pamela had decided to join them.  They’d kissed and she’d let Pam suckle her nipples while she rode whatshisface’s dick.
She’d almost cum too this time, but Hank’s cock wasn’t as game as the lifeguard’s and had given out when she was right on the verge.
She finished herself off, quickly and quietly, under the covers and fell asleep.
Hank snored.
Morning dawned; speckles of light filtered through curtains, dappling the bed like golden fish out of water.
They woke together and both smiled sleepy smiles, coming together in the big bed.
“Sleep all right?”
“Yeah, after that good lovin’ I was out like a light,” Hank said, fondling Susan’s ass.
“Yeah, baby.  You still got it,” Susan lied, hugging him.

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