I wasn’t entirely sure what Warren had in mind when he’d said that we hadn’t finished. I spent the rest of the evening in a bit of a daze, wandering from room to room, unable to settle or relax. I guess I must have eaten something, but I couldn’t tell you what. At some stage I decided that I’d go upstairs for a quick shower. As I passed through the hall to get to the staircase, I heard a front door slam. Peaking out of the window, I saw Warren walking down his path slipping a pair of white buds into his ears, wearing a short pair of blue nylon shorts and a blue sleeveless t-shirt. I watched his beautiful ass as he jogged away down the street and briefly wondered if he’d forgotten his promise about my back door being open. With a snort of laughter I made my way into the bathroom and stripped out of my shirt – now spattered with smears of dried cum – and my Calvins. I threw them onto the hamper and turned on the shower. As it warmed, I took a few minutes to look at myself in the long mirror. Both my wife and I love fucking in front of mirrors. I love looking at her face, her tits, at my slickly lubed cock as it pumps in and out of her sticky cunt or between her lips. I felt my cock harden and gave myself a critical look up and down. Alright, I wasn’t in as good a shape as Warren, but not too shabby Maltepe Escort at all. I’d always liked my ass and legs, and they’d remained as defined as when I would swim competitively as a teenager. Upper body could do with some work, but apart from that … I knew that I kept my wife satisfied and drew a few glances every now and again. Plus, Warren didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Before my cock demanded to be tugged again, I plunged under the water and soaped myself. I thought about Warren, out for his run, the sweat coating his skin and soaking into his clothes. I also wondered what he’d look like buried balls deep in my wife. Magnificent, I thought to myself; I bet it’d look fucking magnificent. I plunged a slippery finger into my ass, making sure it was well cleaned out. Would I let him fuck me? I wasn’t sure. Since being married, the only thing that had been up there was a small dildo my wife owned and we played with now and again. With a sigh I rinsed and got out. I dried myself and walked into our bedroom, which was still warm from the day’s sunshine. It faced south and was light and airy. The large window looked over fields and woodland, but it also had a great view of a few of the back gardens. I’d discarded my towel in the bathroom and allowed Maltepe Escort Bayan the warm breeze to gently caress my body. I’m not sure how long I stood there before I heard a door bang and, peering out the window, saw Warren leap the low fence that stood between our gardens, still wearing his running outfit. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath as I pulled a pair of undies out of the drawers that were next to my bed. Pulling them on, I realised that they were a small pair of black tanga briefs. I love them. My wife loves them. I wasn’t sure how Warren would react. But before I could change them I heard the back door open and his deep voice yell. “Hello? It’s me!” I surged out of the bedroom and down the stairs, meeting him in the hallway. As soon as he saw me I saw his face split into a big grin. “Those are some slutty pants. Fucking hot though. Turn around for me.” Without a word I did so, turning slowly so he could get a good view all over. “Oh, yeah. Face away from me again.” I stood there and heard him move, and felt his heat close behind me, radiating against my naked back. I could smell him now. Clean sweat, unlike his work-soiled smell of earlier. Then I felt his hands on my hips, moving down and cupping my ass cheeks. “You’re exactly what I need right Escort Maltepe now, do you know that?” His lips were mere centimetres from my ears, his breath hot, his voice low. “My balls have been aching for you. You should finish what you started.” As he spoke he leaned forward and I felt his hardness, still sheathed by his running shorts, press against my ass. I slipped my body around so we were facing each other, our cocks now straining against each other. A look was all it took before he leaned forward that crucial inch or so and crushed my lips with his own. With a heady abandon, I kissed back, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, feeling his stubble scratch against my own day-old growth. My hands slid up his arms, feeling the firmness of them. I moved them down, found the hem of his shirt and yanked upwards. He got the hint and raised his arms. The shirt came off and my nose went straight into the wet dusky hairs of his pits. “Oh, yeah,” he moaned as I licked and pressed and snuffled like an animal. His opposite hand came down and pressed my head further into him. After a few minutes of that he dragged me across to his other one and, with the same relentlessness, I went at it. My world became drenched in his sweet smell. Again I felt a pressure on my head, this time in a downward direction and with a force that I wasn’t about to argue with. I sank to my knees, using my hands to steady myself against his body, until my face was level with the stretching bulge of his running shorts. I could see that they were soaked with the sweat of his exercising, as was the hair on his thighs.