Picture the scene. You are lying in your bed on Sunday morning, enjoying the afterglow of the morning's lovemaking with your husband. He showers, dresses and runs some errands for you, as you linger in bed, daydreaming of me. Your fingers stray to your sensitive nipples. From time to time, you lubricate your digits in the semen which is still trickling from your vagina.

You feel a warm tingle building in your stomach. Your fingers search your ample bosoms with a renewed urgency. Before long, you are rubbing your thighs against one another, pressing your labia together, clenching and unclenching your pelvic muscles as you arouse yourself by your deliberate over-stimulation of your beautiful body.

I clear my throat. You look up and gasp. Shocked, you hurriedly cover your sex and your breasts. Then you remember giving me the house key. Your gesture of modesty becomes an obscene tease as your right hand parts your labia before my wanton eyes, and your left arm curls underneath your bosom.

I kneel before you and begin slowly licking your husband's seed from your sex. You moan in realization that his sticky semen is still seeping from your moist passage, and try to bat me away with your red-nailed fingers... before falling back on the bed in a sexual stupor.

Your right hand finds its home on the back of my head. You grind your sex against my mouth, treating me as your slave, ordering me to go faster, faster. I comply because I want to bring you to a state of delirium, at which point I may pounce on you, enter you, release my thick seed inside you to compete with your husband's for a place in your womb.

Before long, your fingers are spread across the back of my neck and you are crying out again and again, anguished little cries like those of a trapped animal. Before long, they take on a guttural tone more arousing any the sight of your naked flesh. You lock your thighs around my face and begin riding my tongue, which swirls up and down your dripping slit. Your labia part to permit the probing of my tongue, the rough nodules grazing your intimate skin.

When you are about to come, I rise above you and place the head of my penis at your vaginal opening. You look at me with a mixture of surprise and angst; should you take me inside you? Before you can decide, I slip my hands under your buttocks and ease myself into you. You are wet enough to take my dry penis without any pain but the sheer girth of the erection stretches the rings of muscle at your vaginal opening. You cry out in pain and pleasure, raking your nails down my back. Your hips rise involuntarily to meet mine, and in a moment I am deep inside your belly.

My hot breath on your neck, my rough chest hairs on your nipples, my mouth on your ear as I lick my way from your earlobe to your temple - all these things trigger your convulsions as your orgasm approaches.

The slickness of your vagina makes nasty, naughty little sounds as I enter you. It sounds like sex - 'fuck, fuck, fuck' - as my ball sac pats against your buttocks with each thrust. Each time I enter you, I feel the neck of your womb against the head of my penis. Although I try not to push against it, sometimes I feel overwhelmed by your beauty and I cannot help but push against your cervix as I thrust balls-deep into you. You look into my eyes and wince... but then nod frantically that I should carry on, that I should continue fucking you.

You know my physical responses so well, you can tell that I am about to come. You slow me down a little by putting your hands on my hips and reducing the speed of my thrusts, giving yourself time to come before I do. It is not long before you throw your hands either side of you and cling to the bed, grit your teeth and scream as you feel overcome by the electricity from your sex.

I can take it no longer. Looking you in the eye, I begin to moan, to shake, to twitch all over. A moment later, you feel my scrotal sac pushed against your buttocks; it contracts rhythmically as the inner tubes spasm, forcing the semen up my penis and into your belly. You imagine you can feel the boiling threads of cum coating your vaginal walls. Still coming down from your own orgasm, you revel in the knowledge that you do this to me, that you can make me come inside you. My penis is still moving inside you, twitching and thrusting, forcing out my own semen and what remains of your husband's; the combination of my juices, yours and his drips from your hole and forms a new, bigger wet patch on the bedsheet.

We cuddle and kiss in the afterglow. Our lips touch a thousand times. We thank Fate for bringing us together.