Slam it!

I’m not going to deny it, I love head. I love giving it, receiving it, watching it, dreaming about, head in the lounge room, head in the kitchen, head on the washing machine... The whole shebang. The downside to living with your parents is that a certain amount of secrecy is required to prevent certain middle-aged nausea and potential eviction. So as you can probably imagine, that rare dinner date on which they civilly embark, along with a bunch of prudish university lecture colleges, is like a royal pardon in the eyes of my hormonally driven girlfriend and a large fraction of my genitalia.

So while I slammed her against the lounge room wall and kissed her hungrily on the mouth, I tried not to imagine my poor parents, having to be able to scull as many drinks as possible whilst still remaining witty and entertaining to old, balding alumnus from across the globe. As well as managing to sophisticate their way around a room, and managing civil conversation with people whom they couldn’t care less should they drown spectacularly in a toilet bowl. All this time tittering quietly with the knowledge that one of them probably WILL by the end of the night, hair held back by a mistress/lover/someone other than their spouse.

Pushing this thought from my mind, I expertly snapped my girlfriend’s bra undone as I lifted her shirt over her head with the other hand. Sometimes we were in the mood to make love, but not right now, all the both of us had on our minds was steamy, hardcore, perve from between the curtains to extreme arousal, sex.

As she yanked my shirt over my head, I decided the wall was becoming far too inconvenient, so I grabbed her and pushed her to the ground, to squeals of excitement. Our pants were off in seconds and she was between my legs shortly after. As her tongue ground its way across my aching knob, I tried hard not to yell out. I can still remember the feeling as she drove my member straight down her throat and finished me off with a sharp pinch of my nipple between her fingernails. I fear the neighbors may have heard me.

As I returned the favor, I had no idea that they actually had. Not until I was fair and properly in between my lovers thighs and there was a sharp rapping at the door, announcing the arrival of our local metro police. My girlfriend screamed as I scrambled for my clothes, awestruck at these unexpected arrivals. The scream was all of a cue they needed, as the door was busted down and three armed officers looked at us both in amazement. My girlfriend dove behind the couch, not having succeeded in finding her own attire, as the three police started to roar with laughter. My missus stuck her head up from behind the couch, blushing furiously. “It isn’t funny!” she squealed, as one of the officers stared and pointed at my crotch, clutching his stomach with the other hand. She looked at me curiously, before averting her eyes to my privates. I looked down myself, and I must admit, I was surprised I had managed to make such a mistake. I turned to my girlfriend and humorously twanged the side of her lacy pink G-string that was adorning my nether regions.

“I think I’m wearing your underwear.”