The house was quiet. The kids had gone out with their grandmother after lunch, and the silence they left behind wasn’t the night kind, doors closed carefully. It was the other kind, the afternoon kind: dishes still drying in the rack, the washing machine finishing its cycle downstairs, warm light coming through the living-room window and the curtain stirring now and then in the air. Bella stood barefoot on the rug, in a pale blouse and shorts, her dark hair loose over her shoulders, folding the laundry she’d brought in from the line. The towel in her hands still held the sun’s warmth and the smell of soap. She was in no hurry. She listened to the house. The fridge kicking on. A car passing in the street. Then the click of the key in the lock.

The front door opened and she heard his step in the hall. She didn’t look up right away. She kept folding the towel until she felt him in the doorway.

Christian was wearing a new hat, pale, wide-brimmed, his face in its shade. His shirt, a small blue-grey check, short-sleeved, was buttoned all the way up, snug across his shoulders and his muscular chest. His light jeans sat well on his thighs, held by a belt with a big metal buckle, and his brown boots still carried the dust of the street. His dark, wavy hair showed beneath the brim, and his beard, full and trimmed, framed his jaw. He stopped, took the hat off with two fingers and held it up for her to see. His hair stuck up a little on his forehead.

“I bought a new hat. Forgot mine at home. Do you like it?”

Bella set the towel on the arm of the sofa and looked him up and down: the hat in his hand, the tight shirt, the buckle, the boots. The smile came first, small, and then a long, low sound, the sound of someone who liked what she saw.

“Mmmmm... Well, well. My cowboy.”

Christian laughed, short and warm. He put the hat back on, a little crooked, and took two steps towards her. He stopped a hand’s width away, the brim almost touching her forehead, the smell of the street still on his shirt.

“Any good wife knows how to ride her cowboy,” he said low, close to her ear.

Bella laughed with her mouth almost in his beard. Her hands went up to the buttons of his shirt. She undid one, then another, and the shirt fell open just enough to show the line of muscle. Her fingers stayed there, feeling the warm skin rise and fall. She undid another, and another, until the shirt was open to his navel. Christian let her, standing still. She ran her palm down his chest and stopped at the buckle, at the cold metal. She looked up, at his eyes in the shadow of the brim.

“And me? Am I a good wife?”

“Show me what you’ve got.”

He kissed her. Her mouth opened at once, their tongues meeting, and the brim of the hat bumped her forehead. Bella pulled it off with one hand and let it drop. It slid off the arm of the sofa and landed on the floor, brim up. The kiss went deeper. His hands found the hem of her blouse and drew it up, and she raised her arms to let it go. She was left in a black bra, simple, lace, her breasts medium and firm, her nipples already hard against the fabric. Christian ran his thumbs over them, feeling them through the lace. She arched a little, her breathing quickening.

“Then sit down,” she said. “I’m going to ride you.”

He sat on the sofa, back against the cushions, legs apart. Bella stood for a moment between his knees, looking down at him, then put one knee on either side and settled into his lap, facing him, her breasts level with his mouth. Christian unhooked her bra at the back and the straps slid down. Her breasts came free, firm and round, the nipples dark and hard in the air of the room. He closed his mouth over one, his tongue circling the tip, and Bella pushed her hands into his hair. Then the other. When he lifted his head, both were glistening. He blew across them and watched them harden even more. He cupped them in both hands, thumbs on her nipples, and squeezed. She moaned softly. He sucked again, hard, until the nipple stretched between his lips and came away red when he let go. Bella looked down at her breasts against his face, his beard grazing her skin.

One hand went down to her shorts. She rose just enough to slip them off and sat back down in nothing but her thong. The lace brushed against his cock through his jeans. Christian gripped her ass and squeezed, and Bella rolled her hips once, slowly, just so he’d feel it. He took a nipple in his mouth again, and she moaned.

Then she slid off his lap and knelt on the rug between his legs. She opened his buckle, the belt giving with a low sound, then the button, the zip going down tooth by tooth. Navy boxers appeared, the bulge already pressing against the cotton. Bella pulled his jeans and boxers down to mid-thigh, and his cock came free, thickening in the air of the room, the skin still covering the head, the veins beginning to show. She held it at the base, felt its heat and its weight, and drew the foreskin back, slowly. The head appeared smooth and already wet, a drop shining at the tip. She ran her tongue over it, tasting the salt, then around it, the ridge, the slit, gathering what came. She closed her lips around the head and went down. Wet heat wrapped around him, her tongue working underneath, her cheeks hollowing, and Christian could see the shape of the head pressing against the inside of her cheek. Her fingers moved down to his balls and cupped their weight. Her mouth came up, sucked just the head, hard, and went down again, deeper, until he touched the back of her throat. A wet sound filled the room. Bella didn’t take her eyes off him, and he drew a deep breath.

Christian slid a hand into her hair. He didn’t push. He just held on, his fingers tightening a little. She went down to his balls, licked one and then the other, sucked them gently, and came back up the shaft, slowly, her tongue tracing the vein all the way to the head. She took him in again, deep, and stayed there. She felt him throb in her mouth. His hand tightened in her hair and he groaned low. Only then did she come up and let him go, his cock standing, wet, glistening.

He pulled her up by the arms and she rose, her knees marked from the rug. Christian kicked off his boots, stripped off his jeans and boxers for good, and stood in nothing but his open shirt. He laid her down on the sofa. The black lace thong was darker at the centre. He pulled it aside: her lips, shaved, were swollen and shining, her clit peeking red between them. He lowered his mouth and ran his tongue up her, slowly, until he reached her clit and sucked. Bella arched, her breasts moving. He slid in one finger, then another, curling them inside until he found the spot, and she moaned from deep in her throat. His tongue never left her clit while his fingers worked, the pressure building. A trickle ran down over her ass onto the sofa.

Christian lifted his head, his chin glistening, and looked at her. Then he went back, slower, circling her clit before sucking hard. Bella lifted her hips and grabbed his hair. He added a third finger. All three curled together, his mouth sucked, and she moaned louder, her body trembling, her breath coming in gasps. She reached the edge and hung there, without falling. He drew his fingers out slowly. She looked at him, panting, her lips swollen, her clit red. Christian passed his thumb over it, once, and stopped.

Bella sat up and pushed him by the chest. He sat back against the cushions, and she straddled him, a knee on either side. She took hold of him, drew the foreskin back again and guided the head to her lips. She found the entrance, the warm resistance, and sank down slowly. The head slipped in, her lips stretching around it. She paused a second, feeling the size of him, and took the rest, inch by inch, until his balls pressed against her skin. She stayed still, breathing, her breasts in front of his face. Christian closed his mouth over a nipple.

Then she began to move. She rose until the head appeared between her lips, which seemed reluctant to let it go, and sank back down with a wet sound. She rolled her hips in slow circles, and he hit a spot inside her that made her eyes close. Christian held her hips, his thumbs on the curves. She sped up, her thighs working, her breasts bouncing against his chest, her wetness running down his shaft to his balls. She looked down and watched him slide in and out, the veins standing out, her lips clinging to him on every stroke out. She brought two fingers to her clit and matched the rhythm.

Her body tightened, and Christian felt her walls close around him. She didn’t stop. She rode him faster, her clit swollen under her fingers, the wet sound filling the room. She bit her lip. Her thighs began to lose the angle. She sank all the way down and stayed there, her body shaking, one short moan and then another, the spasms gripping him from inside. Christian held her and waited. When the grip eased, she opened her eyes, and the smile came slowly.

“Keep going,” she said.

He stayed still a moment, still deep inside her, feeling her pulse around him. Then she was the one who started again: rising slowly, sinking, rolling her hips in short circles, her fingers slipping over her clit. Christian took a nipple in his mouth and she moaned. Her body tightened again, more faintly, without getting there. But the rhythm kept building, her breathing quickened again, and the want came back with it.

“I want you on all fours,” he said, low. “I want you from behind.”

Bella stopped, rose slowly until the head slipped out from between her lips, and climbed off his lap. She turned, braced her knees on the sofa and her hands on the backrest, her ass raised, the thong still pulled aside, her lips swollen and shining. Christian stood behind her, guided himself to her and pushed in, deep, all at once.

She arched her back. He took hold of her waist and began to move, every stroke out leaving his shaft gleaming, every stroke in parting her lips with a wet sound, his thighs slapping against her ass. Bella pushed back to meet him. Christian looked down and watched his cock slide almost all the way out and disappear again, her lips closed around him, the thong twisted over one cheek. He reached underneath and found her clit with two fingers, keeping the same rhythm.

Bella moaned into the backrest. Her breasts swayed with every thrust, her nipples brushing the fabric, and a trickle ran down her thigh. She looked over her shoulder (the open shirt, the beard, his body driving into hers) and closed her eyes.

Christian shortened his strokes and went deeper. He leaned over her, his beard scraping her shoulder blade, his mouth on her neck, without moving his fingers from where they were. She answered harder, her hips slamming back against his thighs, the sound wetter and wetter, until a drop fell onto the sofa. When her body began to shake, he brought his free hand to one breast and squeezed her nipple in time with his hips.

The grip came. Christian felt it and didn’t slow down, kept driving into her while she shuddered, her nipple hard between his fingers, her clit under his other hand. Only when her body gave way did he pull out, standing, wet, dripping. Bella stayed on her knees, catching her breath, her ass still in the air.

Then she turned onto her back on the sofa and opened her legs.

“More.”

He knelt between her legs, took hold of his cock and guided the head to her lips. It brushed against her, found the entrance. Slid in. Slowly this time, inch by inch. Bella lifted her legs and rested her ankles on his shoulders. The angle changed, and he went deeper.

Christian felt her urgency. He wasn’t gentle. He sped up, deep, his balls slapping against her skin, and the head found a spot that made her arch. He brought his thumb to her clit, in quick circles. Every thrust made her breasts sway, and on every stroke out her lips clung to his shaft. Bella looked down, between their bodies: his cock sliding in and out, the veins standing out, the head disappearing and coming back wet, his hand on her. Her breathing quickened.

Christian felt the grip building, and his own climax rising with it. He didn’t slow down. The wet sound filled the room. Bella moaned, her body shook, her walls closed, and she came with her eyes shut and her mouth open, the sound coming out of her low. He came in the same instant. He pushed deep and held there. His cock throbbed, his cum spilling in hot spurts while she was still clenching, and Bella felt every one. Her legs trembled on his shoulders. He groaned low.

He pulled out slowly, wet, dripping. His cum began to run from her lips, down over her ass and along her thigh in glistening threads. They both looked at the trail and stayed still a moment, breathing. The hat was still on the floor beside the sofa, brim up.

Bella reached out and took hold of him, still half hard. She drew the foreskin back, ran her thumb over the head and spread what was glistening there, without taking her eyes off him: the open shirt, the beard. He laughed softly. So did she. Then she ran a finger along the trail on her thigh and brought it to her mouth. The salty taste spread over her tongue. Christian watched, and his beard moved in a smile. She wiped her finger on his chest, under his shirt, and left a small mark on his skin. Finally she leaned down, drew the skin back once more and ran her tongue over him, just once, just a taste, before letting go.

They stayed like that, the sofa smelling of sex.

“Do you like the hat or the cowboy?” he asked.

“The cowboy. The hat’s just for you.”