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Sunday Evening with Annie


Sunday Evening with Annie {Redman} {MF Rom}
(c) November 2000
Comments welcomes at

Authors' note: This is a continuation of the lives of
Annie and Richard that began with "One Again" and that
was followed by "Waking Annie." It can be read
separately, but I would like to recommend that those
two stories should be read first. They can be found at:

All of my posted stories can be found at that site as
well. Special thanks on this one to Morgan for steering
a better course.
Sunday Evening with Annie
by Redman
Annie is laid out before me on our special chair. We've
had this chair ever since we met more than twenty-two
years ago. It's been re-upholstered twice now and it
really doesn't go with the bedroom decor but it has
immense sentimental value.

It's a deep chair, so that Annie can lay all the way
back in it with her upper body. Her hips flair out and
her legs are spread wide at the end of the chair's
cushion. What makes the chair perfect is that it's just
at the right height. When I'm on my knees in front of
it, the angle is just right for penetration.

That's what we're doing now. Annie is naked -- well, I
am too for that matter -- and she's spread out before
me like the last meal of a dying man. Her eyes are
closed and there's a soft, continuous moan coming from
her lips. She has her vibrator and she is pressing the
tip against her clitoris. I'm deep inside Annie and my
job at this point is just to gently ease in and out of
her, allowing the vibrator and my penis to work their
coordinated magic on her.

She is so beautiful like this! There's nothing more
fulfilling for a man than to see his woman laid out
before him, moaning ever so slightly as he slides his
penis in and out of her. My hands are free and I can
touch her all over. Sometimes she likes me to use my
thumbs and stretch her labia wider. Sometimes she likes
me to firmly hold her breasts and move them in little
circles in coordination with my movements in and out.
Sometimes she likes to take one of my fingers in her
mouth and suck on it as she has her orgasm.

But, more often than not, Annie likes me to draw little
circles around her belly as her arousal wells up bigger
and bigger. I saw an ancient clay figurine once where
the Mother's womb was displayed as a series of
concentric circles. Ever since then, anytime Annie lies
before me, I like to draw circles with my fingers while
we make love; circling her womb, drawing out the
essence of her womanhood like some ancient witchdoctor.

I can feel Annie start to spread out more underneath
me. Her legs go wider. Her vagina becomes warmer,
moister. The areolas around her nipples wrinkle to the
consistency of walnut hulls. Her stomach muscles become
more and more responsive to my circling fingers. When
she moans deeply, I can feel the vibrations against my
shaft buried up inside her.

Annie climaxes. It's a quiet, whimpering orgasm. It
racks her body from the middle. I can feel her orgasm
deep within her on the head of my penis. Annie clenches
me inside, holding me in that most intimate embrace
with neither arms nor legs nor mouth. She tightens up,
holds the sweet rigor of her climax for a long moment,
and then slumps against our special chair.

Annie and I were at a church social earlier. I love
watching her in a crowd. Annie is so comfortable with
people that it seems as though she never meets a
stranger. She can walk right up to any new person and
feel at ease getting to know them. People love to talk
to her because she's a good listener.

Annie teaches Sunday school at our church. If it were
up to her, we would have had hundreds of children.
Teaching Sunday school is one of her ways of raising
more kids than the two we have. She likes to mother
the toddlers, singing songs to them and playing with
puppets. Annie's a big kid at heart herself most of the

I watched her sitting with the kids at the social and
wondered why I never had a teacher that was that
pretty, that fun loving. But looking at those kids,
they seem just as oblivious to how good-looking Annie
is as I used to be with my teachers. Maybe all my
teachers were someone's Annie. Maybe all of them were
in love with someone, were someone's wife and lover.

Our daughter Katy entered the room and went to sit with
her mother. What a beautiful pair! One sixteen, the
other forty-four. No one would ever think that they
were sisters, but the family resemblance was easy to
spot. My daughter has gotten her good looks and even
temperament from her mother.

My daddy-radar told me that she was trying to convince
her mother of something, so I wasn't surprised when
Annie pointed to me and sent our daughter to ask me
something. Annie gave me a shrug over Katy's shoulder
to let me know she didn't really care one way or the
other what I decided.

"Dad, all the kids are going out to the coffee house
for a while. Can I go, too?"

"That's great, dear. All the kids? When will you and
your brother be home?" I asked innocently.

"It's just us older kids, Dad! Matt and some of the
kids his age are going out for pizza with the
Richardson's. So, if you let us go, you and mom can
have the house all to yourselves this evening."

"So nice of you to think of us. You'll be home by 10:00 PM?"

"How about 11:00 PM?"

"Make it 10:30 and you got a deal."

I look down at Annie in our favorite chair. Her eyes
are still closed and the tremors in her vagina are
fading around my penis. Her eyelids flutter and
suddenly she's staring up at me with those deep blue
eyes. She smiles a gentle smile of satisfaction and
then stretches deeply, putting her legs around my hips
briefly for a moment, drawing me toward her more

"Hmm, you touch all the right places when we're like
this," Annie sighs contentedly.

I put my hands on her hips and begin to move in and out
of her rhythmically. Annie continues to look at me with
those eyes. I feel like I'm floating in a deep blue
sea, a warm, inviting sea that's pulling me down to its
depths. I'm being swallowed alive by those eyes and I
can't fight it. I feed myself willingly into those
eyes, feed myself willingly into her wet, slick sex.

Suddenly I feel another urgency that can't be denied. I
don't feel like being gentle. Annie seems to urge me
beyond gentleness, too. I begin to pound into her
harder and harder. We both feel the insistence of it,
the necessity of our rough thrusting. She opens wider,
begins grunting with each lunge of our pelvises, with
every slam of our bodies together.

Annie's breasts begin moving in wide, jerky circles.
She grimaces, then reaches both hands to hold them
down. If I didn't know better, I'd think she were
massaging them, caressing her tits like some lewd porn
star. I imagine her bending her head down, sucking on
her own nipples, biting them until they are red and

I drive into her harder, more insistently. I pour out
all of the sexual aggressiveness that's in me onto the
flesh of my good woman; and, woman that she is, she
accepts it all, unconditionally. Every frustration,
every licentious thought comes boiling out; it fuels
the hammering of our bodies together, each impact
becoming more and more percussive.

It's not even Annie underneath me anymore. I look away
from those blue eyes and down at where we're joined; at
where my penis is pounding into her warm, willing
channel. It could be any woman's sex, any anonymous
willing female. Images of every woman I've met this
week flash before my eyes like slides projected on
Annie's body, onto Annie's face. Each woman is more
willing, more luscious than the next. I plunge into
each one of them, I thrust myself in each one and they
moan. They accept me. They want me.

It's all a matter of random chance which one gets the
prize, which one will take my seed. I climax, spewing
my semen into the last of that long line of mental
icons. It feels like I'm ejaculating in them all,
ejaculating on them all. I'm covering them, showering
them with my semen, with little pieces of myself. In my
mind, I'm with all of them at the same time.

But, I'm really with Annie.

I look down at my good woman, feeling embarrassed for
my own depraved thoughts. Something in my sheepish look
triggers the mother in her. Annie pulls me down into
her embrace. There is redemption in her arms. There is
forgiveness. There is peace.

Katy gets home first. Annie and I are sitting at the
kitchen table, holding hands and sharing our final
moments together before the kids arrive. Our daughter
flies through the door, still filled with the energy of
being out with her friends. Katy comes to the table,
sits on my lap and begins to tell her mother all about
the evening and what everyone said and did.

They talk about all the kids from church that are
Katy's age. Annie knows all of them. She taught most of
them when they were toddlers, way back when. They've
grown up so fast. It was just a little bit ago that
Katy was on my knee for the first time. Now she's
almost a woman.

I hug my daughter tight and pray that one day she'll
make some man as good a wife as her mother has been to
me. And that that man will be a better man to her than
I have been to Annie.


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