Tomorrow she would get fucked by him; she knew that. She would tell him. She would be ready for him when he came. A coffee followed by a kiss and then...she would take his hand and take him upstairs. She was already picturing herself falling to her knees in front of him and unzipping his jeans. Looking up, she would smile at him as she extracted his huge erection and took it to her lips. She would kiss it; lick it and suck it, bringing it to its full hardness for her. She imagined that he could. We dashed, giggling to the showers, washing ourselves because we wanted breakfast more than sex, but we still did the ‘thing’, shampooing each other’s hair, rinsing, enough contact to maintain the bond. Towelled dry, mostly, we hit the dining area, coffee in big mugs and breakfast, not ordered, breakfast was self service. We self served, carrying our plunder to a table by the window, the morning sun already warm on our skin.I suppose things will make more sense if you understand a bit about how. More

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