Black Hair, Green Eyes

R returned to the driver's seat and sat back, still breathing heavily. His cock was thickly coated with a mixture of both our juices and, just as I often used to, I bent over the handbrake and took his slowly-shrinking member in my mouth. He gasped softly and laid a hand gently on my hair as I lovingly licked the traces of our glorious fucking from his softening shaft.

"If you did that for long enough, I'd get hard again," he said quietly, "but I've got nothing left in the tank."

"Don't worry," I let his cock slip briefly from between my lips, "it's just a clean-up job. Tempting though the thought of sucking you off properly is, I suppose we'd better get back." I finished my tender ministrations and R zipped himself back up and started the engine. While he turned on the blowers to de-mist the windows we had steamed up with our activity I raised my seat back, pulled my skirt down, tucked my tits back into my bra -- "Shame," R said with a smile as he watched -- and fastened my shirt, then as we set off on the last leg of the journey I did what I could to repair the damage to my hair and make-up.

As we turned into his parents' driveway, he asked what time my flight was the next day. When I told him, he said he would pick me up and take me to the airport. I didn't protest, and immediately started hoping for a repeat performance. Something in his eyes suggested that I was unlikely to be disappointed.

"I won't come in," he said as he pulled up at the farmhouse. "I'm not in the mood for small talk with my parents. I'll see you in the morning." As I bent towards the footwell to retrieve my discarded knickers he grabbed my wrist. "No you don't," he said sternly, "I'll take these." For a second I was about to argue, then I subsided as I realised I found the thought of R going back home to his wife with my wet knickers in his pocket -- the knickers he had stripped off me with his own hands -- inexplicably exciting. That led me to another thought.

"Do you do this a lot?" I asked, "Cheating on your wife?"

"Believe it or not, I don't," he said, and I could see by his expression that he was telling the truth. "I've been tempted, especially before we were married, but I've never been unfaithful until tonight."

"I'm flattered," I said, half-joking.

"You should be," R said, "this was never in doubt. I knew from the minute you said you were coming over that I was going to fuck you. I love my wife, but you're the best fuck I've ever had, and tonight just confirmed that."

"Same here," I smiled. I moved to open the door, but again R stopped me. This time he didn't speak, he simply put his hand on my cheek, leaned over and kissed me. I was surprised but delighted at the intensity, the almost rough urgency, of his mouth on mine and we shared a long, passionate moment. It was the first, and only, time we had kissed that night.

When our lips parted he finally let me go. I stepped out of the car and paused. After several seconds -- a sign of just how far up me R had shot his load -- I felt that unmistakeable sliding, oozing sensation, followed by a light pattering sound on the gravel. We both looked down to watch his spunk dripping out of me. I stood with my legs apart, squeezing out as much as I could before rubbing my thighs together to try and catch the last few trickles running down my legs.

Eventually he drove away. Somehow I managed to talk to his parents, before pleading exhaustion and escaping to my room. Before I fell asleep I stroked my sticky, sperm-drenched clit to one final orgasm while reliving the events of the evening, and looking forward to tomorrow.