It was the faint orange glow that attracted the attention of Mrs Smallbone. It was fortunate that she was on all fours looking towards the window otherwise she would never have noticed. Her husband sounded a little peeved when she interrupted his rhythmic grunts to point out the faint light glowing through the curtains.
‘Hold on a minute, what’s that?’
‘That. That light coming through the curtains.’
Mr Smallbone stopped thrusting. His passion was replaced by a feeling of irritation. They had little enough sex as it was, his wife’s apparent indifference to his performance just added insult to injury. Sullenly, he withdrew, a small enough task but one which he prolonged in the hope that his wife might realise what she was missing. Mrs Smallbone didn’t seem to notice. She got off the bed and opened the curtain.
‘Fuck me it’s a fire! Call the fire brigade the fucking house is on fire!’
Mr Smallbone reached for his mobile and, with a rising feeling of bitterness, tapped in the three nines. Why couldn’t she shout like that when they had sex?
They heard the sirens before they’d finished dressing and looked out of the bedroom window to see the fire engine pull up outside the burning house opposite. Another fire engine pulled up shortly afterwards. Some of the neighbours were out in the street watching. It wasn’t long before the firemen seemed to have things under control. Mr Smallbone went downstairs to watch television while his wife carried on watching the action from the bedroom window.
In the middle of the street a fire officer stood, alone, talking into his radio. He seemed to be in charge. His head suddenly turned towards the Smallbone’s house and then he began walking towards it. When she heard the doorbell ring Mrs Smallbone hurried downstairs. A minute or so later, she walked into the sitting room followed by a fireman. Mr Smallbone looked up from the television.
‘Darling,’ said his wife, enthusiastically, ‘this is the officer in charge of the fire, he just came across to thank us for calling. I’m just going to make him a cup of tea.’
Mr Smallbone stood up.
‘No, no, darling,’ he said, ‘I’ll make it. Sugar, milk?’
‘Milk and two sugars please,’ said the fire officer.
Mr Smallbone hadn’t wanted to get out of his chair, but he didn’t want to be left alone with the fireman. He didn’t have anything to say to him; he felt uncomfortable. The fireman was taller than Smallbone. He looked fit, confident and self assured. The heavy duty protective clothing he was wearing made him look bigger, imposing. Smallbone was in his socks and sweatpants and a tee shirt which emphasised his paunch. He felt flabby and unkempt. He felt a little intimidated.
When he’d made the tea Smallbone took it into the lounge. His wife and the fireman were laughing about something. He put the tea on the coffee table, seated himself opposite the couple and sat, silently, and listened to their conversation. The earlier coitus interruptus had left Smallbone in a state of mild frustration. His cock, although not fully primed, was still loaded and sex was foremost on his mind. An arousing image of his wife, on her knees, sluttishly fellating the fireman, entered his head causing him to cross his legs.
The fireman finished his tea.
‘Well, thank you but I really must be going.’
He took a pen and a notepad from his pocket and wrote something down.
‘Here’s the reference number of the call, just for information. I’m very grateful for your help, thank you.’
He handed the paper to Mrs Smallbone and she slipped it into her pocket. Her husband nodded to the fireman and Mrs Smallbone showed him to the door
When she returned, she began to clear the tea cups. Smallbone leaned forward and put his hand on her bottom.
‘I don’t suppose you’d like to finish off what we were previously doing before we were so rudely interrupted?’ His enquiry was tentative and jokey, he half expected a knock back.
Mrs Smallbone reached back and took hold of his hand.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she said. ‘I’m still fired up, come and finish me.’
She undid her skirt, threw it on the sofa then turned and made for the door. When she reached the stairs, she bent over and provocatively peeled her panties over her bottom and down her legs to her ankles, then straightened up, elegantly stepped out of them and began to mount the stairs. As she did so she began to unbutton her shirt. It slipped from her shoulders, falling onto the stairs.
Smallbone, taken aback by this unusually enthusiastic display, had eagerly followed her. He imagined that he was the fireman, strong and virile, following his wife up the stairs and he saw himself as a helpless observer. He reached out, attracted by the sway of his wife’s hips, and stroked her bottom before feeding his hand between her legs, enjoying the sensation of moist vulva on his fingers as her thighs rubbed against the rest of his hand. When they entered the bedroom his wife climbed onto the bed and got back on all fours. Smallbone couldn’t remember being this hard, he certainly couldn’t remember his wife being so game. His excitement precluded any preliminaries he simply picked up where he’d left off; he entered Mrs Smallbone from behind and resumed his thrusting. She was still silkily lubricated and surprisingly responsive.
‘Ooh yes, all the way in. Ooh yes, that’s more like it, fuck me hard, that’s it, harder.’
Smallbone imagined the fireman fucking his wife, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, a look of sluttish pleasure on her face as the lips of her pussy sucked greedily on his cock. His wife was reacting with unusual gusto to his lovemaking, spurred on no doubt, he thought, by his own arousal. She pushed herself back and forth on his cock and the cheeks of her bottom slapped into his belly. Her breaths came in short, painful gasps until her body stiffened and she let out a shuddering cry. Unable to contain himself Smallbone felt an intense, violent spasm as he imagined his wife licking the fireman’s cock as it sprayed semen over her face.
Spent and withering, Smallbone bent over his wife, breathing heavily into the back of her neck, before collapsing onto his back beside her. Mrs Smallbone turned and lay on her back, her eyes closed. After his breathing had regulated and his heart rate had settled, Smallbone turned and stroked his wife’s hair, affectionately.
‘Oh yes darling, that was wonderful,’ she sighed, her eyes still closed.
Smallbone lay back, relaxed and pleased with himself.
Mrs Smallbone couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an orgasm; the fantasy had triggered it. And it was such a vivid, intense fantasy; after all, the fireman had only just left and she could still picture the glint in his eyes, smell the smoke on his clothing, feel the rough hands, hear the deep voice, enjoy his physical presence. She’d felt his eyes on her as she’d undressed and begun to mount the stairs. She’d felt his hands on her bottom and then his fingers inside her, massaging her pussy as she’d climbed the stairs. And reaching the bedroom she’d climbed onto the bed, slowly and provocatively, raising her bottom and spreading her legs so he could see the full curve of her hips, the puckered kiss of her bottom and her luscious vulva, lips parted, ready to swallow his cock. As he’d moved to take her, she’d felt the coarse fabric of his overalls brush against her bottom and heard the rustle of his uniform as he took out his cock. She’d clamped her calves against his thighs, steeling herself for the assault. She felt his hands, large and rough, placed firmly on the sides of her hips. And then his cock, thick and hard, had squeezed into her and she’d shouted:
‘Ooh yes, all the way in. Ooh yes, that’s more like it, fuck me hard, that’s it harder.’
And she’d pushed back onto him, greedily meeting his thrusts, hungry for cock. She was playing the part of a slut, and the scenario she’d created inflamed her senses. She felt orgastic fingers clutching at her insides, causing her body to convulse in spasms of pleasure.
Her husband had come just afterwards, his whining moan shattering the fantasy, almost ruining her pleasure; and the sudden reality of the situation had dampened her ardour. She’d wanted to straddle the fireman, to grip his uniform and ride him while she looked down into his eyes; the thought had made her heart pound and her mouth water. Never mind, she told herself, I can save that for next time. And there would be a next time. She had his number in her pocket.