He stood in the doorway, looking at her. Her arse cheeks looked so inviting in the loose, short pink pyjama bottoms that she wore. The top, a thin loose matching one with tiny straps, he knew would clearly show the shape of her tits. He felt his cock stirring.
Even after a year of being together he still sometimes couldn't believe he'd landed such a beauty. Nor could he believe he had a girlfriend with such an unquenchable desire for sex. Of course things had calmed between them after the initial non-stop fucking of their early weeks but it was still true that they fucked, or at least did something sexual leading to them coming, at least 5 times a week. He'd never known anything like it.
He walked behind her and gently encircled her with his arms.
'Hello' she said, responding to his kisses on her cheek and neck. 'You're up early.'
She felt his semi-hard cock between the cheeks of her arse and giggled, 'or should I say you're both up early!'
'Are you hungover?' she added, thinking of their slightly wild night with her 2 female colleagues and their partners.
'Not at all' he said and she laughed at the obvious lie.
He leaned in further and started to kiss her neck more, gently blowing, kissing and biting in turn. Her moans, quiet and breathy, were a turn on for him and he slid his hands up over her tits, grasping them through the material of her top. She pushed her arse back against his hardening cock.
'Are you not hungover then?' he asked.
'No darling. You may not remember but I started drinking water about 3 hours before you went to bed' she replied, then added 'And I'm fucking loving what you're doing to my tits.'
She had always had a high sex drive but since meeting him it had gone through the roof. Her previous lovers never wanted it as much as she did but his desire, willingness to experiment, enjoyment of the thrill of risk and of course his oversize cock were perfect for her.
As he continued to kiss and touch her images of their past fun and games ran through her mind, almost a slideshow. These images often came to mind when she used her toys or fingers on herself and now, as his hands and lips turned her on, she watched the pages in her mind.
Her sucking him off on the top deck of a night bus home.
His discretely using his fingers on her on a tube platform, with dozens of people with metres of them. One arm around her, he had held her as though she was crying but the small jerky movements of her shoulders weren't from crying, it was her orgasm, intensified by the closeness of strangers.
Fucking against a tree outside the hotel where hundreds of their colleagues were enjoying the Christmas party.
Him fucking her from behind in the porn booth in Amsterdam then the man manager kicking them out.
The night they shared with her old school friend Louise, and the joy of Louise's tongue on her clit as he fucked her.
And so on.
He moved a hand under her top, fingers finding a stiff nipple, pinching and then twisting it, hard. Her moan was loud and she shuddered, her own hand reaching behind her and between them both to rub the stiffness of him.