Madge is a music person. He's known that since before he met her. The mayor's daughter, the pianist, but it wasn't until he married her that he realized just how much she loved to have music in the house. She plays it all day everyday in the house, while she showers, while she cleans and while she cooks. Depending on the tempo of the song, sometimes she dances along, wide hips moving to the beat as she stirs a pot or flips a steak.
His wife's dancing is innocent, just a bit of fun. But the sight of her rear moving from side to side is always too much for him. Just another reminder of how they move in a similar fashion against his own when he's buried inside of her, the act that led to the conception of both of their children.
As if that's not enough, the sounds his wife makes while trying the food she's making sends him over the edge.
A moan escapes her lips, a dribble of tomato sauce on the bottom of her chin. She wipes at it with a finger bringing that finger to her lips. Another moan.
He can feel his erections straining against his pants. The sounds of his children playing in the adjoining room in his ears. He groans aloud, burying his face in his hands. He was supposed to be working on reports, not getting aroused by his wife.
Madge turns about to ask her husband what's wrong when she sees a hand on his lap and the fingers of his other hand massaging his temples. She throws her head back, a laugh falling from her lips. "Really Gale?"
Her husband stands, his forehead pressed to her shoulder, hands on the countertop on either side of her. "It's all your fault," he murmurs.
"I'm cooking dinner!"
He groaned. "And you look so good doing it."
"You're ridiculous."
"You're gorgeous," he said pressing a kiss to her neck.
She hums in delight. "Your children are in the next room and I don't think you're helping with your situation." Madge tugs on a belt loop.
He kissed her lips, his hands moving to her face, cradling it in his hands. His tongue finds its way into her mouth, sliding it over her own. Madge gripped the countertop behind her.
Gale groaned into her mouth, "No more," he murmurs against her lips. "At least not until tonight."
"Even after all these years I still got it don't I?"
Her husband chuckled. "Yes, definitely."
He turns to walk to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.
xxxx
Gale pressed his wife against the door to their bedroom, his lips trailing down her neck toward her breasts. "God, you're so beautiful," he whispered.
They couldn't get their children to sleep fast enough that night.
Madge moaned, feeling her husband's lips wrap around her nipple, the fabric of her bra and dress pulled down. She reaches behind her to the door, opening it. There's a bed they could be making good use of.
Gale kicked the door shut with his foot, his lips moving from one breast to the other.
There are too much layers between them he decides and his hands move to the edge of her dress, pulling it up over her head dropping it beside them on the floor. His lips find hers again, their lips moving in synchrony while her fingers undo the buttons to his shirt, her hands pushing the fabric away from his shoulders and onto the floor.
"You wear too many layers," she groaned, his undershirt finding its way to the ground as well.
His lips return to hers, his hands moving to undo her bra while hers undo the button fly on his pants, her fingers dipping into his boxers, squeezing his ass and pushing both layers of fabric down as far as she can without removing her lips from his.
Gale shimmied out of his pants, his hands reaching down to remove his socks as well. The last time he had sex with socks on Madge teased him for weeks.
He lifted his wife, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist as he dropped her onto the bed, hovering above her. His lips make a path down her neck, down the valley between her breasts, pressing open-mouthed kisses down her stomach. Two fingers hooked into her panties and his lips find the skin just uncovered. He breathed her scent in, pressing a finger inside of her, a delighted sigh escaping her lips.
"No foreplay," she groaned, her hand gripping into his shoulders.
Gale looked up at his wife, her hair strewn about, her pale skin flushed in such a delicious way. He kissed his way up her body.
He slid into her, his mouth finding hers again. He moaned into her mouth. Her walls tightened around him.
"You're going to kill me," he murmured against her lips. He thrust into her, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist, pulling him against her. Her full breasts pressed against his chest. It was one of the best feelings in the world, being inside his wife, their bodies pressed against each other. He sealed his lips over hers, trying to muffle both her groans and his own.
Madge ground her hips against his. Gale bit her bottom lip to hold in a string of loud curses just begging to be groaned aloud.
His tempo quickened when he felt his release approaching.
He lowered a finger to her clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves until his wife's groan vibrated into his mouth.
He finished a few thrusts after her. Gale kissed her breasts, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and flushed pink. "I've still got it eh?" He asked, his lips wrapped around her nipple, his tongue swirling around the peak in his mouth.
She moaned softly and that was a good enough answer for him.