posted by sooyup
on
Daily trivia,
One-on-one
Hell’s bells! It was bad enough when we were first married if Emma whispered in my shell-like, “Do it to me again!” In my twenties, recovery time could be less than an hour, but even then I would occasionally feel as if I’d been kicked by a mule if seconds were served up too soon. Nowadays I know my limitations better than Emma apparently. Last Sunday afternoon was spent watching the FA cup-final rather than having sex. Emma and I take no interest in sport of any kind. But for some reason we never miss the FAS cup-final, the Grand National, and the Oxford and Cambridge boat-race - and the repeat of any rugby match between England and Wales, provided that Wales has won. But I digress. For once on Sunday, it was late night sex. And a delightful necking, petting, pussy-eating, cock-sucking, energetic fucking session it was, too. We finally fell asleep at midnight. I was wakened at six by Emma whispering, “Alfie. Are you awake?” Ah well, England expects ….
Hell’s bells! It was bad enough when we were first married if Emma whispered in my shell-like, “Do it to me again!” In my twenties, recovery time could be less than an hour, but even then I would occasionally feel as if I’d been kicked by a mule if seconds were served up too soon. Nowadays I know my limitations better than Emma apparently. Last Sunday afternoon was spent watching the FA cup-final rather than having sex. Emma and I take no interest in sport of any kind. But for some reason we never miss the FAS cup-final, the Grand National, and the Oxford and Cambridge boat-race - and the repeat of any rugby match between England and Wales, provided that Wales has won. But I digress. For once on Sunday, it was late night sex. And a delightful necking, petting, pussy-eating, cock-sucking, energetic fucking session it was, too. We finally fell asleep at midnight. I was wakened at six by Emma whispering, “Alfie. Are you awake?” Ah well, England expects ….
