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Who's Laughing Now?

Just funnin' with you, Dear

By Jack ScrantonPublished 4 months ago Updated 4 months ago 4 min read

It was 2 AM when Jack finally dragged his weary ass home from work. Everything at the site that could've gone wrong had gone wrong, and now he felt beat up worse than his bowling team in last month's finals. He hurt—damn, even his eyes hurt! How the hell do eyes hurt? Well, his did. He couldn't wait to climb into bed and close them.

He crept real soft as he approached the bedroom, not wanting to wake Loren. Light spilled out under the door, but she always fell asleep reading. Shower? Not a bad idea. Loren'd fry his ass if he crawled between her sheets looking like this.

He carefully opened the door and tip-toed in. Then—Holy Shit! The heck was this? One profound damned eyeful, that's what.

Loren was out cold on top of the covers wearing her skimpy see-through baby-doll pajamas, the ones she didn't wear nearly enough to suit Jack. Her legs were splayed in a careless kind of way giving him a sweet view of her neatly groomed bush.

Once he'd asked her, "Trimmin' it like that... how come? It's not like you take it out and show it off all that much."

Well, shucks, she was showing it off right now, and there wasn't a damn thing to be done about it. Showing off those big beautiful tits of hers too, with one of them hanging out of her tiny little halter top. He paused for a moment of reverent silence. No doubt about it, those puppies were always worth a second look. He wondered how pissed she'd be if he reached out and sort of scooped himself up a handful—

Then she spoke. "So you gonna just stand there and stare, or maybe you'll think up something useful to do?"

"You're awake!"

"That's why I married you, honey. You catch on fast."

"What's this about?"

She propped herself up on her elbows and gave him a long look. "Really? You have to ask?"

"No... I mean..."

"I knew you were working hard tonight. I wanted to give you a present just so you know you're appreciated."

See, here's the thing. Women say no to fucking a lot more than they say yes. Probably best that way; if they slobbered after cocks the way men chase pussy, we'd all still be living in trees. But it does warp their perspective a little when they not only don't need to be coaxed, they actually hunger for it. Never occurs to them the time might not be right. But crazy as it seemed, just then Jack felt so bone-tired he couldn't be certain there'd be a boner in his immediate future.

Then Loren reached for his jeans and pulled down his zipper and it all started feeling familiar, just like riding a bicycle. As she searched around inside for the object of her desire, he made good on his plans to scoop up a handful of her tits. He gave them a firm squeeze while he was at it, too. That's when he realized events weren't unfolding according to plan. What should have been hard and firm in her grip was still soft and pliant—great for tits, bad news for cocks.

"Something on your mind, honey? You don't love me any more?"

"Give me a chance, damn it, I'm tired is all."

"Ooooo, how sad." she teased. "Big strong construction guy can raise a building, but he can't raise a little old cock?" She started to giggle. "Maybe you should go back to the site and bring home some rebar." She carefully sucked his balls one at a time into her mouth. Then back to slowly lick along the shaft. "Mmmm. A little salt and butter, some garlic... be just like pasta." More giggles.

Jack didn't know if he was pissed or just embarrassed. Then he broke down and started to laugh. Couldn't help it. "You bitch," he muttered. "Whoever told you that's how to get a guy hard... they lied."

She started stroking him, ferociously. "I'm up for suggestions. Maybe I ought to just buy a spare." Then she playfully whacked it a couple of times. "Damn it, behave now, you hear?" She sure cracked herself up, didn't she?

Enough of this nonsense. "You want to laugh? I'll give you something to laugh about." And then he was on her, pinning her arms back, the two of them rolling around on the sheets like drunks in a bar fight. Then he started tickling her along the sides of her ribs, right where it drove her insane.

"Oh God. No! Don't! Oh, you bastard," she screamed, and began losing control—squirming... wiggling... eyes gone crazed. Damn she felt good like that, especially when she shoved her wet pussy against his thigh. He kept at her until she was about out of her mind—laughing, crying, scarcely able to breathe.

And, whaddaya know—guess who finally showed up to the party. Her legs were already spread; he rolled in between and without further confusion, slid himself right on home. She was wet and silky and eagerly drew him in.

He pulled back, held himself just inside her lips and said, "Who's laughing now, darling?"

"Can we just fuck?"

Well, yeah. Till dawn, actually.


About the Creator

Jack Scranton

Writer, image retoucher, musician/composer, 3D artist. Despite modest success in all those fields, Photoshop paid the bills.

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