I let out a sigh of relief as I closed the last of the POs the fools at the warehouse had messed up. “Can’t have one fucking day off,” I muttered for about the third time that morning.

I signed out of the program and opened my email. Even though I’d thoroughly explained and shown the process to every single person I added to the To address bar, they obviously needed me to draw them a picture.

I seriously considered printing the example PO I was about to annotate and writing the instructions in crayon.

On the third attempt at the first annotation, I was satisfied that it was professional enough. The first two tries had been so condescending that I knew I’d end up in HR the instant I walked back into work.

I took a deep breath, marked off the spot for my next annotation, and tried to maintain that professional tone.

I heard my wife walk into the room as I was typing, and saw her out of the corner of my eye.

“Sorry, babe,” I apologized as I typed.

“Can’t they manage one day without you?”

“Apparently not.”

“You really need to take a break and eat something.”

“I’m almost done, babe.” I glanced at the clock on my laptop. “I tell you what, I’ll take you out for breakfast. It will just be a...”

I trailed off as my wife shoved the computer across the table, away from me.

There was an unmistakable note of warning in her voice when she reiterated, “I said, you need to take a break and eat something.”

That’s when I noticed my wife was naked from the waist down.

She didn’t say another word. She pulled out a chair and used it as a step to climb up on the table. In no time at all, she was kneeling on the edge. I had a second to drink in the sight of her incredible ass and sweet little pussy before she grabbed a handful of hair.

I grunted in amused surprise when she yanked me in.

Needless to say, work was completely forgotten. I curled my fingers around her thighs and dived in. I stabbed my tongue into her pussy and found out just how worked up she was. Her pussy was practically dripping. I wiggled my tongue and gathered up her nectar with a hungry growl.

My wife gasped, shuddered, and tightened her grip on my hair.

I gave her a nice broad lick and was about to slouch down in the chair so I could get to her clit, but I discovered that she had other ideas. A yank on my hair forced me to sit up straighter instead.

I dutifully swiped my tongue over the pucker of her ass.

She cooed and moaned as I licked her ass, but never relaxed her grip on my hair. I didn’t have the slightest worry, because she was very particular about any sort of backdoor play. She wouldn’t allow it if she wasn’t certain she was perfectly clean - never mind demand it. I moved my hands to her butt cheeks, spread them wide, and pushed my tongue into her ass.

“Oh god yes,” she cried.

Her ass puckered far too tight to really get my tongue in, but I knew the suggestion of it turned her on. I brought every ounce of pressure I could to bear, genuinely trying to penetrate her with more than a tiny fraction of the tip, and she rewarded me with a groan. I let up, tickled the tan oval with the tip of my tongue for a second, and then tried to shove it in her again.

I enjoyed the game as much as she did. I only gave her a couple of swipes of my tongue before going in for the stab the next time, but the element of surprise wasn’t enough. I was biding my time for the next attempt by drawing a figure eight over her back door when she suddenly let go of my hair.

She sat down, spun on her butt to face me, and offered me a wicked grin before dragging me back into her pussy by the hair.

I gave her a deep, broad tongued lick, gathering as much of her pussy juice on my tongue as I possibly could. She tasted divine, and I wondered if she’d awakened from a sex dream. That was what usually prompted her to jump me early in the morning, and would certainly explain how wet she was.

Though I had a strong suspicion about what was coming, I went for another scoop of pussy juice anyway. She was having none of it, and yanked me toward her clit. I sucked her hood between my lips, and my wife yelped. The sound jumped in pitch and volume when I started shaking my head and tonguing the swollen button.

I let her slip from my lips with a slurp, licked her clit hard for a couple of strokes, and then pulled her pleasure nub back in. I used only the tip of my tongue to tickle it that time, never letting her know when it was going to dart in. She started to writhe and whimper, and one particularly strong twitch yanked her clit out of my lips.

I moved as if to latch back on, but lifted her hood with my thumb and attacked her unprotected clit instead. She yanked my hair hard and let out a shriek when I did that. While she was still lurching from the shock, I pushed my middle finger deep into her slippery canal. She gasped as I pulled it back out - slick with her juices.

She could keep my tongue at bay, but a finger was another matter. I pressed the slippery digit against her back door while I maintained the assault on her defenseless clit. She put up a little token resistance, but the truth was that she wanted it. All it would have taken was a good tug on the handful of hair she had, and I’d have pushed that finger right back into her pussy.

She grunted when my finger popped into her ass. I pushed it as deep as I could, gave her naked clit one last lick, and then sucked it in again.

My wife writhed and bucked - yanking at my hair. Ever louder whimpers and yelps tumbled from her lips. Her ass pinched tight around my finger wiggling in her back door. I peeked up and saw that she had one breast squished in her other hand, and her face was red.

I doubled down, sucking hard and worrying her clit with my tongue as fast and hard as I could get it moving. We’d only been married a year, but we’d been together for six, so I knew when she was right on the cusp. I pushed her to the edge and then stopped - just for a second. It was long enough for her to let out a weepy wail of protest.

Her wail turned into a shriek almost as soon as I sucked her clit again.

I love to make her come. Of course, I could have done without her damn near pulling my hair out as she thrashed on the table, but beggars can’t be choosers. I rode out her throes and chased her clit - listening to the sweet serenade of her screaming in ecstasy.

When she let go of my hair, I wisely pulled away from her pussy. More than once, I’d gotten a foot in the ribs for hanging on just a little too long. Her hand landed knuckles down on the table with a rap that sounded painful to me. She didn’t flinch, so I assume it sounded worse than it was.

I kissed and caressed her left leg, which always shook uncontrollably at the tail end of an orgasm. The quakes settled just a little after her ragged gasps turned into sighs and moans. She looked absolutely gorgeous lying there all flushed and spent with her pussy winking at me.

She started chuckling as the aftershocks of her orgasm faded.

“Good, babe?”

“Uh-huh,” she answered, and followed it with a moan. She slowly pushed herself upright, and I stood up enough to kiss her when she leaned in.

When our lips parted, I stood up the rest of the way and guided her hand between my legs.

She snatched it away and slid off the table.

“Really?” I asked with laughter in my voice as she walked away.

She gave her bare ass a smack and said, “Hurry up and finish with work. You promised to take me out for breakfast.”

“I’ve got sausage right here,” I called after her.

“After breakfast,” she yelled back.

I shook my head, adjusted my uncomfortably hard cock, and started to pull my laptop back over in front of me.

I wasn’t all that bothered that I had to grab some napkins to wipe off the table first.

I was silently cursing speed limits and every other car on the road as we returned home from breakfast. I knew I was in for it when I asked her if she was ready to go and my wife walked out of the bedroom in that outfit.

She was wearing a black and white striped, sleeveless top that really put her gorgeous tits on display - with plenty of bared cleavage. Her jet black leggings were capri length, and form-fitting enough to be questionable as public attire.

She’d taken wicked delight in me trying to hide an erection more than once while we were out.

Once we were back in the car, she’d raised the stakes even higher. I glanced at her before starting the car, and it was impossible to miss that she’d scooted in the seat in such a way to form a camel toe in those leggings. Once we were on the road, she’d started absently tracing a fingertip up and down the crease between her labial mounds.

My wife laughed when she caught me looking yet again, and adjusting the uncomfortable bulge in my jeans. “Eyes on the road and hands on the wheel,” she playfully admonished.

“Easier said than done,” I responded.

My phone dinged a couple of blocks from home. I glanced at the notification just before the screen faded to black and saw it was another text message from the floor manager at work. The first arrived just before we left the restaurant. It was something about a driver up from Mexico, and the new one was probably more of the same.

I ignored it.

My wife tugged at her leggings when I shut off the car. She loved to show off - and tease me - but walking around with a camel toe where our neighbors could see her was a bridge too far.

I’d barely closed the door behind us when she pulled me into a hungry kiss. She finished by sucking my bottom lip and asked, “Now, what was this about sausage?”

I didn’t even need to look when my phone started ringing. I’d set a unique ringtone for all the work numbers and the mobile numbers of everybody there who had mine. My wife knew it as well.

She let the leg she’d lifted to grind against me drop to the floor and said, “Go ahead and answer it.”

“Whatever it is-”

She cut me off as she stepped back, slipping away from the hand squeezing her ass. “Just answer it. You’re going to be anxious if you don’t.”

Unfortunately, she was right. Whatever was going wrong would be a thousand times worse for not being handled properly by the time I returned to work the next day.

My wife strutted over to the couch and sat down as I retrieved my phone. I followed as I answered it. “Hello?”

Mike was obviously at his wits’ end. There was some paperwork he needed that driver from Mexico to deal with, and there was a serious language barrier. I sat down on the couch next to my wife as he explained.

Once he finally took a breath, I said, “Mike, slow down. Just go over to the line and grab Arturo to translate. It’s not a big deal. Waylon is used to it. I do it all the time. I ... Really...” I sighed as he anxiously rambled and then took the first opportunity to say, “Just go give the phone to Waylon. I’ll take care of it.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear, turned to my wife, and rolled my eyes as Mike walked across the building. A crooked grin spread across her face.

I vigorously shook my head as she slipped off the couch onto her knees. Her eyes narrowed and she slowly - deliberately - nodded before leaning forward to grab my belt.

I’d promised her sausage after breakfast, and she wasn’t going to wait any longer.

The sound of machinery mingled with forklifts rolling by in my ear while my wife made short work of the fastenings on my pants. I defiantly refused to lift my butt to help her, but she wrestled my jeans down to my thighs anyway.

I clenched my teeth and somehow kept the groan trapped in my throat when she gave my cock a long, wet lick.

The machinery humming and banging drowned out everything else as Mike approached the line. It was all I could do to hold it together with my sexy wife’s tongue slathering all over my erection. I faintly heard Mike telling Waylon why he was there, and then Waylon answered the phone.

“Hey, Waylon. Mike needs to borrow Arturo...” My voice jumped a little when my wife sucked the head of my cock and tantalized it with the tip of her tongue. “To translate for a driver,” I finished.

Trying to concentrate and hear what he was saying was somewhat difficult with my wife’s hot mouth sliding over my cock.

“I know. I told him that, but I guess he didn’t believe me. Yeah. Some day off. Thanks.”

She wasn’t screwing around. My wife’s head bobbed in my lap at a steady pace, making me writhe.

“All good?” I asked when Mike took the phone back. My ears started burning when I failed to completely suppress a grunt brought on by my wife blowing me.

For the love of god, I thought when he asked me to stay on the phone until he had the driver sorted out - just in case.

The sound of machinery faded as Mike and Arturo walked back through the building to the loading dock. My wife slurped her way back to the head of my cock and looked up at me wearing a grin.

You’re fucking evil, I mouthed to her.

She giggled and engulfed my cock again.

I thought those two were never going to make it back to the dock. My wife was relentless between my legs. Finally, I heard Arturo and the driver speaking in Spanish, and hoped it wouldn’t take long.

I quickly jerked my phone away from my ear and slung my hand back over the back of the couch when my wife swallowed my cock. I grabbed a handful of her long, dark hair, but it didn’t deter her in the slightest. All I could do was pray that the noise on the dock was enough to cover up the glock, glock, glock of her deepthroating me, and my growling grunt.

She sucked in an alarmingly loud gasp when she jerked out of my lap. My dick was covered in slobber, and it was dangling from her lips. She did at least lean back, turn away, and cover her mouth and nose with a hand when she sniffled.

I allowed myself a quiet groan when she sat back on her heels, wiping the drool off her chin. I brought the phone back to my ear, and I could still hear a conversation going on in Spanish. My wife swallowed, blinked her watery eyes, and sniffled again.

The sense of relief I felt when she stood up was profound - but short-lived. She walked over to the recliner, popped the footrest, and then climbed into it facing away from me. Down went her leggings, revealing that perfect ass and pussy to me. She wasn’t wearing panties. There was a wet spot in the crotch, and hints of white where some of it had dried. She’d been soaked for a while.

My wife looked over her shoulder and beckoned me with a crooked finger. I pulled the phone away from my ear and shook my head in such an exaggerated way that it was nearly a full 180° arch.

She grabbed her leggings as if to pull them back up and whispered loud enough for me to hear it. “Fine, but if these go back up, they’re not coming back down.”

I don’t know if she was serious or not, but the tone of her voice certainly suggested it. I rocked off the couch and stood. She covered her mouth and giggled at the sight of me shuffling toward her with my jeans around my thighs.

Once there, I was in a conundrum. There was no chance of getting in behind her encumbered by my jeans. As I was considering what to do about the phone while I stripped them off, she reached over and put the footrest down. A little shifting put her right on the edge of the seat cushion, and she reached between her legs.

I sidled in behind her, and her fingers curled around the head of my cock. She unerringly slipped it between her nether lips, and I buried it inside her. My wife slammed her face into the chair’s back and groaned into the padding.

I left my cock to the hilt inside her, and thankfully she was fine with that. I don’t think I could have managed if I’d actually had to fuck her. She kept her face pressed against the chair back and rubbed her clit.