Saturday: Warm Sheets

This is a day in the life of a happily married couple, deeply in love. No drama, no hidden meanings, no worries—just the natural rhythm of their connection, intimate and sensual.

"John, I'm home," Jane's voice rings out, and the house is no longer quiet. The thud of her gym bag dropped on the floor follows a moment later. It's Saturday morning, and he likes to linger in bed as late as he can, but she, in true morning person fashion, is already back from her impossibly early gym trip. Her energy pulls him from his lazy sleepiness, leaving him no choice but to get up. He stretches with a sigh and reluctantly tosses the sheets aside, bare skin meeting the cool air they kept away. More reluctance follows, but he eventually pulls on his pajama pants, wills himself upright, and strolls out of the bedroom to meet her.

She's wearing those tight leggings that leave little to his imagination--and John knows exactly what's underneath them after all, yet somehow this makes her seem even more appealing. She's shed the loose t-shirt she wears at the gym, her black sports bra revealing the definition in her lean muscles, still flexing with the lingering pump of her weightlifting session.

He closes in to embrace her. His skin, chilled by the morning air, presses into the sweaty heat of her post-workout body, absorbing her warmth. She carries the faint scent of the Fall day outside, but this is not what holds his attention.

"Good morning, Jane."

He kisses her, his hands sliding down her back to her hips--a motion he's repeated so many times it feels as natural as breathing now. The slick texture of her leggings invites his hands to explore more, and he does, her muscles rippling under his touch. She is sweet and salty, and she kisses him back.

"You missed me," Jane says--not a question but a matter-of-fact statement.

"You're irresistible like this," he replies, and it is his truth.

John's fingers find their way inside her leggings, past the damp fabric of her underwear and into the hot, sticky touch of her skin. His hands slide lower, parting her ass cheeks in a playful, intimate invasion. His erection strains through his pajama pants, pressing into her warmth.

As he's about to sink deeper into the moment, she bites his lower lip, breaking the kiss. His touch lingers on her body, but she pulls away.

"Not now, John. I need a shower first."

Her smile is bright and promising, and her eyes flick down to the bulge in his pajama pants.

"Don't go anywhere with that," she teases in a sultry voice but walks away at the same time.

John follows her into the bedroom, but the bathroom door closes before he can reach her. Now he has nothing else to do but go back to bed and wait. The sheets welcome his return--soft, comfortable, still holding the lazy Saturday spirit of his late sleep. He picks up his e-reader from the side table, but the words are blurred and unfocused. Her body lingers in his mind, the memory of her touch etched on his palms. He lifts his hands up to his face, her lingering scent still there, and pheromones rush back the sensations of her touch with a throbbing surge of blood.

He puts the e-reader aside--there's no reading happening now. His hand drifts past the waistband of his pajama pants, his arousal impossible to ignore. He strokes himself slowly, reliving her kiss, his lower lip tingling with the memory of her bite. With eyes closed, he imagines the water running over her naked body and smiles, with only a faint tinge of regret at the thought of soapy bubbles washing away her salty sweetness.

"Oh, you are a bad, bad boy," Jane whispers into his ear. "Were you thinking of me, John?"

He looks up, surprised but unashamed.

"I thought you were taking a shower," he says, his voice low and husky, touched by arousal.

"I changed my mind, John."

Jane's hand slides over his chest, her naked and sweaty body pressing close, radiating heat, her smell, her touch, her voice, her entire presence flooding his senses.

"You love me like this."

And all he can do is agree. The purr of her voice makes his cock twitch in his hand, and he nearly comes then and there--almost spoiling this story far too soon.

He remembers to remove his hand from his cock, placing it on her hip instead, then sliding it down to her ass, the memory in his palm resurfacing like the bookmark of a thought resumed. The image of her shiny leggings flashes in his mind--how they hugged her ass, how his hands slipped beneath them--and this moment feels like picking up where they left off.

Jane's right hand cups his face, holding him for a teasing kiss while her left hand makes a quick trip between her legs, her fingers coming back wet and slippery. She breaks the kiss, brushes her fingers against his lips, and he licks them eagerly.

"Come get your snack," she says, her grin inviting.

He does not hesitate, sliding down between her legs and opening her folds with his tongue. She is burning, the raw efforts of her earlier morning clinging to her body in subtle saltiness, and he lets out a small growl of satisfaction--this is exactly what he wanted. He settles there, sprawled in her warmth, cock trapped under himself, the pressure making him grind into the bedsheets. There is not the smallest pretense of teasing--no need for that. Without even a lick, his mouth closes over her clitoris, his hands still glued to her ass.

In a fleeting thought, John realizes for the thousandth time that her ass might be his favorite feature of her fit body--hard muscles under smooth skin, always worth a squeeze.

Jane's moaning brings him back from the drift of his thoughts, letting him know he's on the right track. Her left hand threads through his hair, pushing his head down gently and her right hand moves to her breasts. A nipple pinch and a twist, paired with his mouth devouring her clitoris, brings her to a familiar climax--one she knows well but never tires of. She surrenders completely to the sensation, trusting him to take her apart and put her back together, shaking and anchored in his touch.

He stays quiet between her legs for another beat, savoring her tension melting into relaxation. Then he moves up, hard and ready, losing the pajama pants on the way. She pulls him into a kiss, slow and sweet, tasting her own pleasure on his lips.

A thought flickers through her mind--how arousing this kiss is.

She guides his cock into her for a thrust, then two, before stopping to hold him still.

"Turn," she says, commanding.

"On your back."

A mischievous grin follows.

He obeys, and she straddles him, keeping him deep but not allowed to move. Her grin widens.

"Go big or go home."

She takes him out, licking her hand to stroke him gently, mixing her wetness and saliva. Then she leans back and guides his cock lower toward her ass.

"You're getting the complete bad girl experience, John," she teases, her smile wicked.

She pushes herself down onto him, taking in only the tip at first. Then she moves up and down, slow and deliberate, until his cock is in, and she gasps at the fullness she feels inside. It surprises her every time, this sensation of being completely filled. She begins to grind softly, her rhythm unhurried.

John's hands glide up her body, brushing her lips, before moving down to her breasts. For the thousandth time, he realizes that her breasts, with their curves and their light pink nipples, might be his favorite feature of her soft body. He knows exactly what she needs now. His fingers tease and twist her nipples, in a perfect balance of firmness and softness.

She sits fully on his cock now, taking him all the way in as she leans back to touch herself. Her fingers slip in and out, teasing her clitoris, adding wet, lewd, sounds to their shared heavy breathing.

They feel each other's bodies, the connection undeniable, playing with each other's senses and building their pleasure with practiced ease.

John comes first, his cock grinding deep into her ass. He has been quiet, as he usually is, except for the occasional grunt, but as the orgasm overtakes him, a singular word escapes his lips: her name.

Jane's hand slows down, and as she closes her eyes, she buries her two middle fingers in her pussy, motions mirroring the intensity of John's grinding from a moment ago. Her head tilts back, a trickle of saliva slipping from the corner of her of her moaning mouth, as she surrenders completely to the moment. With a shudder, she collapses forward, holding onto him and whispering sweet nonsense in his ear, and John holds her back even tighter as she rides the waves of her orgasm.

And once again, for the thousandth time, he realizes how completely he loves her.

Time slows as they lie there, embraced in the afterglow of their love made tangible.

Jane pulls him out and slides next to him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. She stretches, arching her back, and lifts her head as if to say something, but then, a small trilling sound escapes her--lazy, wet and completely ridiculous.

John smiles, and as she feels his smile, she can't stop her own incoming giggles from bubbling up. Trying to muffle them by burying her face in his neck only makes it worse, and their laughter fills the bedroom.

"I hate you," she whispers through her giggles, and then a split second later, "I love you."

His response is immediate, without any hesitation. "I love you more."

"Give me a napkin, John," she says. "I can feel you dripping out of me."

They fall asleep in comfortable silence, tangled sheets holding their shared heat, the happiness of their lazy Saturday morning stretching well into the afternoon. Eventually, they stir from their nap, the light of the Fall sunset scattering softly trough the drapes. Rested and warm, their desire rekindles with a naked embrace and a lingering kiss.

But before they can go on, an unspoken thought rises between them. It feels so pressing, so immediate, that one of them finally voices it--or maybe both at the same time:

"Do you want to get something to eat first?"

Thank you for reading this chapter of Jane and John! More chapters are coming soon, each capturing another day and moment in their journey together. Follow to stay updated as their story unfolds.