His eyes opened. The peace of the early morning filled the still air. The only sound was the rustle of the seagulls attacking the bins on the pavement.
As he slowly gained consciousness he was vaguely aware of the perfect dream he had just had. He never got to the end of the personalised weather forecast from Carol Kirkwood off the telly but the sexual tension was so thick he could almost taste it.
"I'll give you, 'front of low pressure moving in from the west'", he thought to himself.
He knew he had to release the pressure that was building up in his throbbing, ridiculously large and attractive manhood.
He checked the date on his Rolex. His birthday wasn't for some months yet, but it was worth a try.
He turned slowly, towards the snoring.
They'd agreed some years before to always sleep facing away from each other. It did mean that during the night the hair on his back was disturbed regularly by the ladylike expulsions of wind from his darling wife. They both agreed this was a better option than the minor earthquake effect of her snoring removing his fillings like the most perfect, sweet and delicate pneumatic drill.
He made his move. He began to slowly and gently stroke her back. Her skin was so perfect and smooth. He loved it and knew in his heart that the £500 tub of body butter was worth every penny. As his finger nails gently moved across her back the snoring became a guttural, hacking cough. He knew she was awake.
"What time is it?", she grunted sweetly.
"It's 5.30 my darling", he purred seductively, "I've had another Kirkwood"
"For fuck's sake let me go back to sleep you arsehole!", she replied in a loving and supportive way.
He smiled to himself. He knew this tactic well. He knew she wanted him right there, right then but this was her way of increasing the excitement, of raising the tension to almost bursting point. He loved that about her.
He tried again, at regular 10 minute intervals from 5.30 until 7am.
At 7am she revealed her true, unbridled desire for him.
"Ok, ok but be quick", she whispered, "I'm having my upper lip waxed at 9".
The flood gates opened. Her took her in his strong and arms and pulled her towards him with an almost animal aggression. She groaned with pleasure, although it could be pain as she had a dodgy back. He never knew which.
As their bodies were joined together as one, writhing in unbridled passion in the early morning sun, the door creaked open. Their daughter came in on all fours.
"Mummy, can you wipe my bottom", she pleaded.
As the smell of toddler pooh filled the warm air they fell into a crumpled heap on the bed. Laughing and giggling at the joy of the precious gift of children.
His once, ramrod of a member became flaccid as the day he was born as he shuffled bleary eyed from the bedroom, ready to clean up the contents of the bin from the pavement outside.
Chapter 2 coming soon..................................
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