I glance up at the clock knowing dickhead will be home soon. My blood boils as I remember our morning fight. The only thing you need to know is he is at fault. 

I hear the door open. What should I do? Should I be facing him so he sees my seething look right away? Should I give him the cold shoulder? Hmmmmm. I choose the cold shoulder.

"Hi," I hear him tentatively say.

You better tread lightly, dickhead.

"Hi," I coolly respond without turning around. I pick up some grapes in a bowl on the counter to wash in the sink.

"How are you?" he says cautiously, trying to gauge my mood.

"Fine," I reply curtly, still keeping my back to him and turning on the water to drown him out.

I hear footsteps coming towards me. 

"How was your day?"

"Fine," I reply with a clipped tone.

"Can you say anything besides 'fine'?" he asks becoming annoyed.

"Nope."

What happens next I swear is an accident. 

As I am washing the grapes in the sink, he surprises me by spinning me around by the shoulders. I spray him with the hand-held sprayer. His crisp white shirt is instantly drenched with water dripping down onto his dress pants.

"Fuck! You did that on purpose!" he yells with his blue eyes turning black.

"Nope," I say, biting my lip.

He yanks the sprayer from my hands and sprays my chest with it. 

"What the hell?" I yell. "You did that on purpose! Mine was an accident!"

"Nope," he says turning to walk away.

What happens next is NOT an accident.

I grab a handful of grapes and zing them at his smart-assed head.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping. 

"Ow!" he yells, angrily turning around, with grapes bouncing on the floor below him. His eyes dart around scanning the counter and he grabs an orange from the fruit bowl. 

"Don't you dare!" I yell, turning to run away. Then, I feel something hard hit me square in my ass. "Oh, shit!" 

Followed by another hard hit. "Shit!" I turn my head to see an orange and a grapefruit rolling on the floor and my ass really hurts.

Our eyes lock, shooting daggers at each other, then we break eye contact scanning for our next weapons. The sprayer is dangling in the sink and probably the closest thing to me. I lunge for it and spray him feverishly from head to toe while he pelts me with Hershey Kisses he found scattered on the counter. 

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Damn, those little fuckers hurt. Dickhead played baseball and has quite the throwing arm. 

He raises his arm to shield his face from the water assault and lunges for me. He grabs a wooden spoon and bends me over his arm and paddles my ass - hard!

"Stop!" I shriek, as I lose my grip on the sprayer. He has a death grip on me, paddling me. I continue to squawk, kicking and thrashing about, desperately looking for a method of escape. I spy a metal spatula and grab it swatting at his ass, causing him to loosen his grip enough for me to break free.

It's on!

We both spy it at the same time - the banana pudding I had made. Being the former athlete, he reaches it first and scoops out a handful to throw in my face. Sliced bananas mixed in pudding stick in my hair, cling to my face and drop down onto my breasts. I reach in the bowl and scoop my own handful and smash it on his smug face! I still don't know how this turned so abruptly, but he grabs me and unexpectedly kisses my banana-pudding covered mouth. We are sharing the pudding on our lips and tongues and the heat of anger turns to the heat of passion.

I yank his button open, pull his zipper down, and shove my hand inside his boxers, taking hold of his cock. He rips my blouse open and unhooks my bra, freeing my water-soaked breasts. His hands dip back into the bowl and smear pudding on my breasts. His warm mouth devours my breasts, licking the pudding off my nipples, while I roughly stroke him. 

Oh my God! This man excites me with his licking, kissing, and touching. "More. More!" I shriek.

The rest of our clothes fly off as we stand in the kitchen naked covered in pudding. He pulls me into his wet body, devouring my mouth. I pull his hair as we grind our naked wet, food-covered bodies together.

I stroke his balls and rock-hard cock while he plunges his fingers into my wet pussy. We writhe against each other in ecstasy, yelling expletives, moaning, and groaning. Hands grab asses and mouths lick, suck, and bite. Fuck!

"Bend over," he commands.

I bend over the counter, and he plunges his fat cock inside my eager pussy.

"Oh God, Oh God," I yell. "Harder!"

Dickhead obliges and roughly pounds me. Pudding from my breasts is smearing all over the counter. We both pant and groan as he fucks me. God, he fucks me so hard. His lovemaking usually starts off slowly, gently, then he gradually builds to this level of fucking. But, tonight, he skips the foreplay. 

He grabs hold of my hips, while I try to cling to the edge of the counter. His wet pudding-covered finger reaches around to rub my clit and I am gone! Gone! Legs shake and he holds me up as I crumble with my orgasm. I feel his hot cum soak my pussy as he yells, "Fuuuuuuck!" in my ear. We collapse against the counter struggling to regain our breathing. 

He withdraws his softening cock from my worn-out pussy and turns me around to face him. As our eyes meet, we burst into laughter, looking around at the mess in the kitchen. 

We no longer remember our morning fight.

I no longer call him dickhead.