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The morning after a fantasy night out.

"Underwear," I answered, "I won't be a minute, I just need to..."

"To get out of yours," she interrupted, picking up a glass "I agree ...and get out of the rest of those clothes too."

She emphasized her point by making the Champagne cork go *POP* right where the period would have been if spoken words were accompanied by subtitles. Her eyes were painted, she'd spent some time on makeup with them, and the way they followed mine was nothing short of a scene from a 1960's or 70's romantic sex comedy. She was doing the vamp thing marvelously, even killing it.

Linda possesses that sort of classic starlet beauty that people simply have to stop and look at her. I mean, if you can imagine Jane Russell and Sophia Loren having a beautiful brunette love child - Linda would be it. I'd have to describe it as a sort of high cheek-boned sophisticated Bond girl look that makes cars slow down to a crawl as drivers do a double-take, and it makes police officers tear up tickets when Linda was clearly speeding, (especially if she scrunches up her nose and makes moon-sized brown eyes at that poor helpless cop). It's a look that has allowed her all these years to get away with murder - or in this particular case infidelity.

Her lush black hair looked "just so," as well. She sometimes keeps it in a "playful bob" sort of affair, (with bangs in one long droop down before her eyes). Recently however, she'd had it butched up on the sides to the skin while keeping the droop in front. It gave her a sort of Rachel Maddow Sci-fi look like she was an extra in Bladerunner or something. I have to admit it was a look that she made work for her... and now it was working on me.

"Do you need a special invitation?" she said holding out a Champagne glass as I stood dumbfounded, "I said get out of your clothes!"

My duds hit the floor in a pile. This woman was offering up free pussy despite the fact that she'd told me days before that our life together was over. I wasn't going to pass up an opportunity for a good fuck in my own home no matter what the circumstances. My mother raised an asshole - not a damned fool!

I snatched up the glass from Linda's outstretched arm as she spun herself around at the foot of bed where I stood. She was now down low on all fours; eye-level with my cock and balls with her ass raised up high. I polished off the bubbly in three gulps from my glass and admired the view. Looking down at her heart-shaped hiney I was simply awe inspired by the sexy as hell dancer's ass currently pointing back at the pillows and headboard. I shot out a hand and ran it appreciatively over those lovely moon-cheeks, sculpted hard as stone by years of working out. I was still just as hypnotized by that ass as I'd been the first night we'd fucked, all those years ago.

Linda wrapped an arm about my waist and pulled her face in close to my junk. She huffed in hard; sniffing my junk. It was then I felt a little jolt of panic.

I realized I hadn't showered since the day before. I had sex funk from several fucks (courtesy of Brooklyn and Brittni's hot hindquarters), and I was certain my cock and balls were absolutely rank with the scent of pussy well-fucked anus. Linda however simply acted as if she were on some sniffing expedition at Yankee Candle Company; huffing in all that nastiness like penile potpourri. Fondling my balls, she ran out her tongue in little flicks and licks of my cock and tummy, until she had a throbbing veiny piece of wood in her hand. She looked up at me with lovely brown eyes, smiling as she took me in her mouth for a slow suck.

She commenced giving me simply out of this world deep-throating head and in short order she had me groaning like I'd come down with a bellyache. I ran my hands through her hair and eagerly drove my hips against that blowjob of hers. It only escalated from there.

We found ourselves at first in a sixty-nine, two carnal cannibals frantically gorging upon each other in a fit of hedonistic gluttony; as if both of us were intent on sucking the life force

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