Dear Diary, 

Waking up when there is absolutely nothing to do, no appointments to keep or pressing places to be, is the most delicious of Saturday morning sensations. 

Well…almost the most delicious.

Be forewarned, this post is rather explicitly naughty.

The quaint neighborhood street was dark and deserted, save for the occasional rush of a car passing on the opposite side of the freeway wall. No one was around, no one to see him standing on the doorstep like a criminal. Tentatively, still unsure if this was a good idea, he thrust the key into the lock and opened the door.

Her house was utterly neglected. Leaves blew in as he shut the door, joining older, more brittle leaves that had been blown in days, perhaps even weeks earlier. Her favorite wool jacket was hanging off the arm of the treadmill, adjacent to the open coat closet. Two steps in and he tripped over a pair of designer knee-high boots left in the middle of the thoroughfare that led to the kitchen. The dining table was piled high with glossy advertising circulars and unopened letters, a few of which looked important.

If her house were a crime scene, all signs would point to a struggle and a violent end.

If it were set in a galaxy far, far away, it would indicate an untutored Jedi coming into the first flush of her considerable powers.

But as far as he knew, she was at home, not battling the Empire from the icy headquarters of some distant star. Nor had she been bitten by a radioactive spider, nor developed anti-housekeeping telekinesis.

She was simply very, very busy with her beloved job this week.

For once it was not him and not his fault that they had had no time together.

Now he knew what it felt like, not to be ignored exactly but simply not…prioritized.

He didn’t like the feeling, and he felt a pang for all the times that she had tried to explain this to him, all the times she had asked him to tell her he missed her. He had always dutifully repeated the words while failing to understand why it was important to do so. .

Standing in her eerily forsaken house surrounded by all the evidence of life going on without him, he finally understood. It hurt to feel as if one wasn’t needed…or missed.

Opening the refrigerator, he carefully placed a wrapped chocolate cupcake next to a lone glass bottle of milk. The rest of the interior was mostly bare, with only a few condiments taking up space. Typical of her, not to spare time even for grocery shopping. 

Weaving past a precarious pile of books he passed back through the tiled living room and went upstairs, his footsteps light on the carpeted steps although he was not trying to be quiet.

And there she was.

Sprawled in a tangled knot of twisted sheets, she lay snoring like a little cat. One naked leg was hanging off the bed in mid air, as if forgotten, while her arms possessively scooped both pillows close, nearly burying her face.

The left side of the bed was completely empty. When she slept over at his house, it was the right side nightstand where she put her phone and piled her pajamas as well.

Stripping off his tee shirt, his shoes, socks, and then jeans, he folded them neatly on top of her desk by the window. The sheets were cool as he lay down and slowly began unwinding her from the bedding maelstrom. She fidgeted and drew her clenched fists to her breasts but didn’t awaken. Gently, ever so gently he pressed his warm body against the chilly curve of her back, feeling her relax and turn into him, mumbling nonsense words. Pulling up the newly liberated duvet, he tucked it around them both and, after a few long moments of indecision, fell asleep.

Hours later he awoke to the tantalizing sensation of her fingertips toying with what he felt must be the world’s hardest erection.

“I thought you were a dream,” she murmured, her hair tickling his stubbled jaw as she nuzzled under his neck. She squeezed the very tip of cock between her thumb and index finger, sliding her hand down the length of him as a little pre-cum squirted out. “I thought you were never going to use that key I gave you.” Her hands were inside his boxers now, scooting them down off his hips as he groaned, hyper attuned to the weight of her heavy breasts pushed into his ribs, sliding down his torso as she hooked his underwear off his ankles and tossed them towards the door. He reached for her, her soft skin hot to the touch, but she batted his hands away. “Nope, my turn.” Her long hair trailed down his chest as her head moved below his belly, her breath causing his aching cock to swell even more in anticipation. Then her warm, wet mouth enveloped him, slipping down to the root while one hand fondled his balls.

“Gah–” he gasped, his eyes flying wide open, marking the mid-morning shadows flung against the ceiling, the stark whiteness of the walls adding to the surrealism of it all. Then she began to move her head up and down, and he forgot everything but the exquisite rhythm of her mouth, her tongue lapping at the tip of his cock before swirling inside, one hand holding firmly to the base of his cock just to squeeze and release, over and over. Her hair swished over his belly in a riot of tickling curls as she increased the tempo of her movements, as he grit his teeth against the excruciating bliss, trying to hold back, to save something for her, but she persisted, moving even faster, and when he opened his eyes to implore her to stop he caught sight of her white breasts swinging free and lost the last vestiges of control, exploding into her willing mouth, arching his back as she stroked him even deeper into her throat.

Licking her lips, she sidled up to him with an impish smile.

“Good morning!” she said cheerfully. “I’m so happy you came.”

He looked at her, the mussed dark hair and bright, happy glow she radiated. Rolling onto his side, he leaned her onto her back and reached between her slim legs to find her throbbing and slick. She gulped, her small hands catching at his broad shoulders as he easily slid two long fingers inside, his thumb lightly brushing her clit, her whole body suddenly tightening with an electrifying need.

“Good morning,” he replied and proceeded to return the favor, with interest.

May your Saturday be as lovely as mine.