String of Pearls

His legs are splayed. She kneels between them, both hands circling his cock. Only the tip is visible. It glistens fuchsia in the glow from the bedside lamp.

Her eyes stray to the lampshade. It looks dated. She decides a change would lift the room.

Don’t let your mind wander, she tells herself. If you do this right it will be over soon.

She feels his member engorge.

Sits back on her heels.

Concentrate! She lets her eyes droop shut, works to maintain a steady rhythm.

He’s panting, now, hips arcing off the mattress.

Not too fast or he’ll come before he wants to.

She doesn’t want to contemplate the repercussions from that. Tries to slow down, ease off.

Her left calf is starting to tingle. Not the best time to get pins and needles. She shifts position, leans forward again.

Suddenly, his cock spasms.

Her eyes open in alarm as an arc of sperm spits hot gobbets onto her chest. Dammit! She catches her breath. He won’t be best pleased. Likes to finish in her mouth.

He lifts his head from the pillow.

She waits for what’s coming.

Then, ‘String of pearls!’ he exclaims, a gleeful grin on his face.

‘Wha-a…?’ Confused look.

‘That’s what it’s called when, you know…’

News to her. She squints downwards. Gobs of semen draw an untidy necklace on her breast.

Yuk! Her stomach heaves. She reaches for a tissue.

‘Don’t.’ He stays her hand. ‘Suits you.’

She pulls a face, turns her head away.

He laughs. ‘You’re such a prude.’

She doesn’t respond.

‘Well, aren’t you?’

She turns back. ‘I suppose.’

‘You should count yourself lucky.’

‘For this?’ She tries to make light of it, though the viscous mess sits heavy on her skin.

He puffs out his chest. ‘For a husband with imagination when it comes to lovemaking.’

‘Is that what you’d call it?’ Teasing voice. God, he can be such a pompous bastard at times. Still, he’s right, she supposes. She should give him credit for trying to gee up their lovemaking, moribund this past while.

‘Now, if you’re done…’

He frowns. ‘Don’t you want me to…?’

She feels bad, then. He’s only thinking of her.

‘No.’ She smiles an apology. ‘Too tired.’

Sighs. ‘Oh, well, if you’re sure. Let me look at you, though. Just for a moment.’ He traces a finger round her throat.

She kneels there, rigid. Feels his spunk spread sideways, tepid now. Shudders as she catches the sour whiff of it.

‘I’m going to take a shower,’ she says.