Sunday morning. She loved Sundays. It was her favorite day of the week. Time for coffee she thought, puttering about the house in her comfy but almost tattered pink robe that had a small hole in one pocket, and the terrycloth looked worn out and matted, much like a teddy bear that had seen one too many days in a child’s life. She opened the front door and picked up the Sunday paper that was thrown near the front walkway. Of course the plastic was wet, since it seemed the delivery kid always missed the mark and tossed it directly in the damp lawn covered in morning dew. Yuck she thought, picking it up gingerly, removing the clear plastic and balling it up in her hand, before entering the house so the water wouldn’t drip and leave a knowing trail on the hardwood floors.

Laying the paper out on the kitchen table, padding over to the counter, she opened the coffee maker and dumped yesterday’s coffee grounds and the balled-up plastic bag in the garbage. Note to self, add coffee filters, as she grabbed a pen to write it on the shopping list stuck on the fridge under a magnet, since she was using the next to last one out of the box stashed in the cabinet above. Adding water, hearing the first gurgle of the machine as its heating up, then the Ahhhh moment when coffee streams into the glass pot and aroma fills the kitchen.

She reached for her favorite mug, with the phrase, Mornings Are a Bitch and So am I, setting it down it near the coffeemaker, when all of a sudden she felt hands around her waist, untying her sash. The robe fell off her body and pooled at her feet. He pushed her forward using the heel of his palm right between her shoulder blades, bending her over the countertop with tremendous force, pressing her face sideways flat to the granite countertop. Her arms flailed, knocking her mug to the ground smashing it into tiny porcelain pieces when it hit the tiled floor. Damn!, irritation flashed in her mind, but was almost instantly replaced with primal lust.

“Mornin Cunt”, he said in his deep, but raspy, I just woke up, voice. He drove his knee between her legs, nudging her to take heed, move her feet, and spread her legs apart for him. Taking his two fingers he glided them smoothly down the center of her spine, along the crease of her ass and between her legs, feeling her drenched cunt with juices already flowing down her inner thighs, parting her sweet pussy lips, then plunging them deep inside.

She gasped! It sucked the breath right out of her, no warning, nor tender kisses shared. He didn’t even rub her clit or care if she was even wet or not. Not that the latter mattered much since he knew her body and she knew she was immediately in a state of arousal. Fuck, it was like he was Pavlov and she was the bitch panting whenever she heard his voice or felt his presence. Shit, he could be outside tending to his rose bushes, and she inside the house and if he even called her name to ask her to bring him a beer, she’d be wet. It always amazed her, the power and domination he had over her physical and mental being. She tried to lift her head and her breasts up from the countertop; he yanked her hair with his left hand while his right was pumping her pussy, pulling it very taut to the opposite side of her exposed face, slamming her cheek back down. Leaning over, he barked in her ear not to do that again. He gave her hair that was in his fist, one more hard tug, she yelped, looked at him and slowly nodded that she understood. The countertop was smooth as glass, cool to touch, but a hard, unforgiving surface to have one side of her face planted on. Her arms were outstretched, her right hand gripping the granite edge around the sink.

As he continued his attentions to finger-fucking her cunt, she could feel the vibrations begin within. Building slowly, feeling the crest but still out of reach. She let out a soft moan and tried to entice him to fucking her with his hard cock by lifting her ass more and trying to grind into him.

He let go of her hair and all of a sudden, THWACK! He slapped her ass cheek with his hand so hard she was sure there was an imprint there. Her cheek reddened and grew hot. The pain mixed with the intense pleasure was driving her desire wild. She was so close to cumming, at the precipice, on the edge, ready to go over and fly, almost there, almost, almost….suddenly nothing. He stopped. He retreated. Her breath fast and rapid, was now starting its slow decent to a calm, steady beat.

He ordered her in an authoritative and stern voice to stand up and turn around. “Would you like to cum?” he asked. “Suck my cock like the whore and cumslut I know you are, and maybe, I said, maybe, I’ll let you cum.”

She used her robe as a blanket of sorts for her knees so she wouldn’t have to kneel on the ceramic tile. His cock was already erect, long and hard. She licked his cock from base to tip…..tentatively at first. Light flicks of her tongue. She grabbed the base of his cock and looking up at him, locking eyes; she took his entire shaft in her mouth, wrapping her lips around it closing it within her wanting hole. She took his cock completely down her throat and back up to tip, fucking his cock with her mouth. She gagged slightly, her saliva and spit coating his entire cock. With every upward motion of her mouth and every time as she sucked him to the tip of his cock, she took the hand gripping the base, and stroked his cock upward firmly with a gentle twisting motion until there was rhythm of hand and mouth working together up and down his shaft. To tease him slightly she pulled him out of her mouth and again darted her tongue randomly around the base of his cock while her thumb passed over his tip spreading his pre-cum in small circles around on the head of his gorgeous cock. His cock jerked. She smiled. She was satisfied knowing she was being a good cocksucker. Lifting his cock and still stroking with her hand, she kissed his balls, took them in her mouth, sucking them and to really make his cock throb in reaction, she rolled her tongue over his balls while still in her mouth.

He grabbed her head cupping her ears and lifted her face away from his balls and impaled his cock into her open mouth. He held her head so she couldn’t move and pushed his cock down her throat. “That’s a good whore, take it all”.

She tried to breathe, to relax the reflex from tightening-up and to not gag so badly, that she would barf. She looked up at his face, his eyes closed, head slightly thrown back, his breath getting faster and faster with his strong hands holding her head for him to use her mouth as his fuck hole. She could tell he was close, his cock was huge and suffocating in her throat. He grabbed her hair, groaning and thrusting with such force she was sure he stripped her throat raw. She didn’t care. All she cared about was him using her like the cumslut she was, for his pleasure, and to take her in any way he pleased. Tears were streaming down her cheeks from the choking sensations she was experiencing with his cock rammed deep inside. He was engorged and so close to spurting his load in his slut, she took her arms and wrapped them tightly around his outer thighs, pressing him even more to her face, sealing it airtight. He grunted and with a final lunge shot his cum down her waiting throat. The pungent, slightly salty taste mixed with her saliva, a unique recipe only they can create together, hit the back of her throat and she greedily took it all, swallowing it completely. She knew to keep her lips fastened around his cock to milk it of all his cum and clean it so not a drop leaked from the tip and was wasted.

As she tenderly was tending to his cock and sucking softly, making sure his cock and balls were lovingly cared for, he reached over her and opened the cabinet, grabbed a mug off the shelf, poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee, and took a sip.