Sex in the kitchen was unsanitary, he fully believed that. Something about the messiness of cum and fluids mixed in where they ate…just sent shivers up his spine.
But here he was, peering around the edge of the door, biting his lip as his wife shook her hips to the tune of the radio, warbling like a proud songbird as she stirred a bowl of batter wearing a gingham apron…and…that was it. That was all she had on beyond a pair of sparkly red heels. The apron and the heels and her flowing blonde hair that bounced down her back in beautiful waves.
His fingers dug into the wood of the doorway as she paused, her ass bouncing for a moment before she dug a plastic spoon into the batter, tasting it…slowly…dragging it through her lips with a muffled groan before it popped free of her beautiful, cherry lips. “Delicious,” she mumbled, and he felt his hardened cock twitch in his slacks. God, she was as beautiful as the day he saw her across the courtyard of the college campus, smiling in the cool air of Fall. The years had passed but his love never faded, even as blonde hair was cut and styled and shades of grey echoed through roots and smile lines were created with blinding speed.
He was cut free of his thoughts when the spoon, clean as a whistle, waved lightly in the air. “Dear, are you just going to watch from waaaaay over there, or are you gonna come help me out?” she teased, hips swaying hypnotically, and…well…who was he to deny their siren call?
