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Marriage in this country today is fast becoming an antique ritual in this age of enlightened experience. The Victorian ideas that prevailed for so many years have finally been torn aside, probably never to be sewn together again. Young moderns belong to swinging social sets, swap clubs, and private party groups that freely enjoy sex in many forms. Group encounters are commonplace and sex education is a family affair.
Vivian Harrow burrowed under the covers and snuggled close to the warm body of her husband. She curled her curves into the smooth line of his ass and tucked her knees behind his. On awakening, she felt the stir of need in her belly, the desire that Warren had not quenched last night. Their lovemaking had been brief and not enough to hold her. His mind had already been on the deal he was trying to finalize today, that big sale that was always just around the corner, the one that would give him enough ready cash that he would be able to take a few weeks off and relax.
She’d been here at the summer place for three days, and already she was sick of it. It had seemed like a good idea, buying the farmhouse on the lakeshore and fixing it up. She had convinced herself that Warren would change, lose the harried air he’d carried so much of late. Most of all, she’d hoped they could regain the spark of romance that had died in their year of marriage.
Her hands crept over his naked hips and searched for his sex organs. He moaned in his sleep as she found the limp penis and closed her fist around it. Its heavy warmth delighted her, and she could feel the flickering desire in her belly. She pressed closer to him. The hands tightened on the dormant organ and raised it from its bed of tightly curled hair. Her hand brushed the hanging bulges of his balls, and she paused to enjoy their uneven texture and hidden hardness. Warren stirred again.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.