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Alice and Julie play high-class whores for the evening.

They were perfect, just like everything about her. She shuddered as he tweaked first her left nipple, then the right. They seemed to get even harder as he squeezed firmly enough to make her squirm but not enough to hurt. After all these years he knew exactly how to toy with her, and the damp, earthy smell of sex wafting up from between her legs confirmed he was pushing all the right buttons.

"I never get tired of you, of us, of this," he whispered. He had slid his hand down from her breasts to the flat plane of her stomach. Lingering at her navel he danced his fingertips in slow circles around the sensitive flesh of her belly button. She wanted him to move lower, to touch her where she was wet and slick, but he made himself wait, building the anticipation until she couldn't take it anymore.

His fingertips finally brushed past the artfully shorn strip of hair above her sex she gasped and thrust her hips up at him, trying to force his fingers lower. When he finally made contact with the erect bud of her clit she shuddered as if in climax, her entire body convulsing and shaking.

"You never get tired of this either," he whispered, a smile creasing his handsome face. He leaned downward until his mouth were bare inches from his skin and exhaled, his breath making a promise to her slick cleft. She moaned into the gag and thrust upwards to seek out his lips. Unable to stop himself any longer he relented and gave a long, deliberate lick across her slit, tasting her anticipation. It was almost too much for his senses to take, and his stiff cock throbbed, a pearl of pre-cum beaded at the tip.

Climbing between her legs he grasped her ankles and raised them up, spreading her open before him. He nudged his cock forward and ground it up and down her slippery mound using just his hips, teasing her with the threat of penetration. Every time his cockhead snagged against her pink slit he stopped and eased backwards, denying them both what they wanted most.

Her hands were balled into tiny fists as she strained against the belt, trying to push him inside her. He was too quick, and he shifted backwards, taunting her, denying her the penetration she craved. She gnashed her teeth against the makeshift gag and grunted wordlessly against the diaphanous red material.

Just as she seemed to give up he rewarded her, spearing forward into her tight pussy until his balls slapped against her ass cheeks. She arched her back and thrashed about, lunging against him, grinding onto his body to take him as deep as possible.

The time for teasing was over; he withdrew with a shift of his hips and thrust inward again, over and over. Despite being unable to see him or speak a word she instinctively fell into a rhythm, a matched cog grind of bodies that had meshed together hundreds of time before. The bed creaked and groaned beneath them as it always did, the protests of the springs as much a part of the sounds of their lovemaking as pants and gasps and cries of passion.

As always she came first, wrapping her long legs around his body and locking him inside her, and as always that pushed him to the limit. He let out a guttural roar and with a final powerful thrust exploded deep into her womb. Somewhere far in the back of his head he wondered if this would be the time she'd catch pregnant, and as his orgasm obliterated his consciousness he pictured her flat stomach grown round with his child, heavy and swollen.

Some minutes later he rose, his knees week and mind reeling. His head swam, floating on a sea of endorphins that drowned his senses in bliss. She too was consumed by the afterglow of her orgasm, her chest rising and falling as she lay still on the bed, drained and spent.

It was a perfect image and a perfect moment and it made his heart ache to know how lucky he was. Most men went their entire lives without knowing the joy she made him feel, and he was fortunate enough to feel like this every day.

Shaking his head and smiling he strode lightly across the rug to the adjoining bathroom.

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