I watched her face contort with ecstasy and new her orgasm was fast approaching. I knew the look well, it is the one she gets when her vaginal muscles contract strongly around my throbbing cock and start mercilessly milking my monster member.
"OH! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuuuuuccck me deeper!", was her desperate cry. How many times had I heard these words echo around our bedroom walls as Julie, my wife of thirty six years, and I screwed away another exciting evening?
It was about now that balls tightened and semen blew hard against her already slippery vaginal walls without pity, and the mighty little swimmers started their life and death race towards her ovaries in the hope of finding an egg to fertilise.
But thoughts of pregnancy were the last thing on Julie's mind while she orgasmed and milked as much cum as she could into her hungry, humping hole. Though she was well into her fifties, Julie had yet to even commence "The Change".
It annoyed her slightly, because when, at eleven, she had her first period and mum explained the whole 'women's business' to her again, but in more detail now that she was actually experiencing 'it', Julie had imagined she was signing up for 35 - 40 years of menstruation which would then give way to freedom from the monthly intrusion. By fifty two she should have been released at last, but, no, here she was at 56 still as regular as bloody clockwork, and still taking "The Pill".
Julie knew she had absolutely the best ever husband in the world and the most unbeatable family - two boys and a girl. They were her and Barry's greatest achievement. They both had successful careers but had also succeeded in managing together the almost impossible task of progressing their careers and raising a normal family.
Barry, on his part, also imagined he had the worlds best family and the wife he called 'Gillette' - after the Gillette shaver advert which had as its motto "The best a man can get!" - that was his Julie. And those wonderful kids of theirs; all married now, two with kids of their own. Two terrific grandkids he and Julie adored without reservation.
I moved my eyes away from Julie's face as she came down from her climax and started to relax, the small beads of perspiration glistening on her forehead.
We've both saved our holidays and in three more days we're leaving on our "Dream Holiday" - Hawaii, North America, then England and Europe before coming back home to Sydney via Singapore and Hong Kong. Four months of relaxation and enjoying one another", I thought to myself as she slid out from under and turned on her side to relax, just like she always did after we made love, "our present to each other for all the years of hard work together raising our family and 'being there' for each other." That's what we both said this was.
Now I had to remember all the things I had to do before we left - you guys know - the long list of things 'she' leaves for you to organise. We were having a large family gathering Saturday night and then off to the airport Sunday morning for that Qantas flight to our planned mutual reward.
One of my jobs was the Saturday thing - you know, organising the drink, the steak for the barbecue, make sure the gas bottle is full and everyone who should be was invited - family, close friends and a few neighbours. Julie would organise some salads, dips and finger food. She would also decorate the tables and do a few ribbons and balloons around the place to add to the party flavour. Oh, and did I mention, Julie was in charge of packing our bags - her main function the next couple of days. My bag took her one morning, the rest of the time will be spent packing hers, then unpacking and packing a different heap of clothes and accessories. Thank the lord we could afford first class or we would be hiring a transport plane to take her stuff. Guys understand this - women readers have no clue what I mean here!
On Thursday afternoon I was pottering around the barbecue area checking that everything was in order when there was a loud noise in our usually quiet street. I knew straight away what it was, I'd known bikes all my life. No, I wasn't secretly a Hell's Angel or anything like that - I'd never even ridden a bike, except occasionally as a pillion passenger in my teens. Anyway I heard a whole lot of 'real' bikes (not Jap crap) stop near our place and then a lot of yelling and smashing coming from Wade's house, the one on the other side of us from Bill and Marge, Philip's parents.
Suddenly Wade came through the gate in our common fence looking white as a sheet - a hard call for a black guy. "Shit Barry, they're going crazy, those bastards", he gasped as he shook in fear, "They're crazy bastards".
Wade didn't get any more out before there were a couple of muffled explosions and the bikers roared off out of the area. Quickly Wade and I went out the front to see what was happening, but as soon as I saw the fire I ran back inside and dialled 000 to get the emergency services here as quickly as possible.
The fire had a really good hold before the fire engines arrived, but they managed to put it out in about twenty minutes. Though not before the interior of Wade's house was a write off. Lots of water kept the exterior brickwork sort of intact and also saved our house and his other neighbour's from fire or heat damage.
Wade had a few uninsured paintings and a quite a bit of sporting memorabilia he'd collected over the years. He was proud of his collection of football jumpers and I knew he would be devastated when he realised they were destroyed - there would be little in that house worth salvaging.
"All they kept saying was something about black Moslems taking over their country and they wouldn't let it happen", Wade sobbed as he watched the fire fighters dousing the last few pieces of smouldering wreckage.
"I didn't know you were a Moslem Wade", I said. I knew he was black - I'm not blind.
Julie wasn't home when all the excitement happened, she likely needed something extra to take on the trip. There was quite a gathering of neighbours out in the street when the police arrived. Our quiet cul-de-sac had only eight homes and we all knew each other quite well. Almost everyone told the police the same thing: It all happened in a few minutes, maybe less, probably one or two at the most. The bikers roared into the street, broke a few of Wade's windows, smashed in his front door, started a fire and left. In fact most people were like me - they didn't go outside until the bikers left, so we really saw nothing - only heard a lot of noise. Let's face it, who in their right mind would walk out in the street and watch a mob of crazy bikers on a rampage?
Wade told them about the racist and religious crap they hurled at him, and he wasn't even a Moslem! I knew Wade didn't like the way the extremists were going on in our country, and he was not at all impressed with being considered one of them. There had been four other similar incidents in the past week and police were no closer to finding the culprits for any of them. No one on the quiet local streets got a number plate from even one bike. Everyone was so shocked by the noise and furore that they didn't think to look - not that they were likely to see well enough from behind curtains to read fifty millimetre high letters from twenty metres or more away.
Our street featured on all the TV news bulletins that night and the next. Wade went to stay with his son a few suburbs away, turning down my offer, and that of several of our neighbours for him to stay with us in the area.
Julie was worried that this sort of thing could happen right where we lived. As she said it was different when you just saw it on the TV happening in someone else's street. I told her I wondered if these were all really just random attacks, or like most of the drive by shootings and home invasions, were they really drug related. Or had the others and Wade done something to truly piss off someone they should not have fucked with.
"We've known Wade for so long Barry," Julie said, "Surely you don't think he is a really drug dealer?"
"Well, you know he has all that art work, and those football jumpers he is always going on about are likely worth lots of thousands", I pondered out loud, "maybe he was up to something shady. They went straight to his house. They knew who they wanted. I'm beginning to wonder if he was up to something. Something he'd rather keep hidden."
"Oh Barry!" accompanied by a big exhale of breath- the standard reply from an exasperated wife who is ending the conversation, huh guys?
We talked to the neighbours Friday and they all agreed we should still have the going away party Saturday as planned. I wanted to have it, but didn't want to offend too many people if they thought we should give it a miss.
Saturday went well, or as well as Barry expected it would. Wade was dropped of by his son and Barry and Julie were to drop him home if they could not get him to stay the night. Barry knew he would be ok to drive. There was no way he was drinking enough to affect his enjoyment of the plane flight the next morning.
.... There is more of this story ...