Stephanie Kifowit: Morning Rise

The morning sun shone through the sheers, illuminating the bedroom in a shimmering light as alternating splotches a of light and dark fell across the room as the sun rays peered through the leafy canopy of the large tree outside the bed where Alderwoman Stephanie Kifowit lay.

Foggy headed and still in a stupor from her nightly debauchery, Stephanie tried hard to remember where she was. The pillow was soft around her head and smelled of clean linen, so far so good, at least he wasn't a slob or maybe she was in an upscale hotel for a change. She tried desperately to remember the events of the night before, but she drew only a blank. Lately the nights had all blended together, one as much alike as the next, only the men changed. She inhaled sharply, the air smelled clean, and the sheets did not reek from the smell of sweat and sex. And yet her head pounded. Where was she? She craned her ears, but hey could detect nothing but the sound of birds chirping. Her hand fell to her chest, her fingers ran across her nipples, they hurt, always sensitive, she often encouraged more attention on them and regretted it the next morning. Today was no different. Would there be bite marks...she touched her nipple and a sharp pain coursed thorough her body. Yep she decided there would be bit marks. Damn, she had planned on wearing a low cut blouse to her luncheon engagement, with, damn what was his name, that business man who wanted a zoning change to start a business, damn what was his name, oh shit what time was it? She hoped she was not late, but the sounds of the birds chirping comforted her, no, it had to still be fairly early in the morning.

Her hand slid down her chest, down her stomach, slowing as she sighed, reflecting on the growing pout of her belly, it was hell getting old. Crunches, treadmills, and aerobics could only do so much. Gravity was affecting her breasts, and the creep of menopause was upon her. She was changing, and the perkiness of her youth was far behind her, and everyday was a battle and one she new ultimately she would not win. Her hand slipped lower, gliding above the landing strip of public hair. Creeping lower she found what she knew she would. Her fingers felt the crusted wetness seeping from her thighs. Yes, it is as she thought, she had been fucked. Her hands continued to slide between her legs...sigh there was a real mess there. Was it one or two men, certainly not three? Or had it been? No, one or two, she concentrated and knew she was not that stretched out, either they had been small, like her husband Steve or there had only been just one or two. She concentrated and decided it probably had only been one man. Still her nipples had been badly used, probably brutally twisted, pulled, and bitten. She felt herself grow wetter at the thought.

She so wanted to open her eyes, but the years had not been kind. Each time it hurt more and more, the light, the partying, the drinking had taken its toll and she knew her eyes would burn in an act of defiance like a penitent child. Well, soldier she told herself, this is nothing, just open your eyes and face the day. You had certainly woken in worse circumstances. Anxiously she half opened her eyes, they burned as her eyes started adjusting to the morning light. Then she opened them wide, her blurry eyes focused and she sighed with relief, as ever detail of the room was familiar to her, hurray, at least she awoke in her own bed. But where had she been the night before?

She stretched, the slight ache in her loins told her there was no way Steve did that to her. She carefully examined the bed next to her, the pillows on the other side were still neat, the sheets in the other half still taught, well the military had at least taught her how to make a bed. Then she smirked, and how to suck cock, god but gosh had she learned to suck cock in the military. She stretched her jaws thoughtfully, her mouth tasted of alcohol, she concentrated and could not taste any semen. So it probably had been just one man, as she instinctively knew from experience a normal man will reflexively not settle for sloppy seconds if her mouth was available or, giggling to herself, her ass. She thought for a second and could instantly tell that area had not been penetrated. She sighed heavily. At first anal had been an amusement for her, something she enjoyed only on a lark, but the last few years her weight had been settling in her thighs and ass, and well her once small derriere was starting to attract a lot of attention. More and more men wanted her ass. Oh they all started the same, joking and kidding about it, a gentle slap, then a kidding spanking, but ultimately she knew where it was heading. Well, maybe she would learn to like it. It wasn't that bad. At least she was able to compensate for the ravages of time with something. Mother nature took with one hand but provided with another or so it seemed.

Focusing on the bed again she sighed. The sheets were still tucked in at the foot of the bed. Piecing together all the clues she knew what happened. Whether she had gone out by herself or with Steve, it no longer mattered, she had gotten fucked again. He either brought her home, drunk, and deliriously happy or she was dropped off at the door and he found her, either way he was facing a wife who was probably disheveled and with the obvious remnants of another man seeping from between her thighs. Steve had helped her upstairs, taken her heels off, yep a quick glance showed they were on the floor, and simply eased her into bed.

She thought back, how long had it been since it ended differently? She wistfully remembered when he use to get excited by the tawdry exploits of what Steve like to call his "Hot Wife". She would tuck the kids in bed and head out to bar with her single teacher friends. Hours later she would come home, her blouse open, bite marks on her tits, the essence of a man dripping from the labia, and often Steve never even made it to the bed, he would take her there on the floor. At first she was surprised at how much he liked sloppy seconds, or the first time it was sloppy thirds, and even more surprising was when he went down on her, eating her, what was it Steve called it, a "cream pie" specifically a "Stephanie Cream Pie". Well she reflected, Steve was never much in the cock department but he ate pussy with gusto. And honestly after serving in the military and being exposed to all those big black cocks, well Stephanie had to admit size really did not matter all that much if a man could use his tongue like Steve did. Besides one of the first things she had noticed about Steve was he had very small hands, like a womans, and well after her child, if she wanted to feel more it was no big deal to be satisfied with his fist entering her vagina. She liked it and Steve seemed to get a perverse pleasure out of punching his fist up into his wife's gaping cunt.

So for years they were in marital bliss. Stephanie was free to fulfill her insatiable desire for men in positions of power and Steve got some inexplicable pleasure from his wife's exploits. If it worked for them, who was to judge? But lately, when did it start, Steve lost interest, and then the interest started to turn to disdain. No longer did he toss her on the bed, pull the covers back and fuck her madly, his small penis delighting in the squishy evidence of his wife's whoredom, no longer did he beg her to mount his face and empty the evidence of her unfaithfulness in his lapping mouth. No now, more and more it ended like this. Her dutiful husband tucking into bed, kissing her forehead and heading downstairs to sleep on the couch.

She sighed, where had it gone wrong for them? Her eyes focused on the clock, it was 8:17. Plenty of time to talk to Steve, shower and get ready for her luncheon. Now what was that guys name again?