Tom was already running late. They had been up all night making love and the first time his alarm clock had gone off, he had rolled over and hit it hard enough to shatter it into a thousand little shards of plastic and metal. Then he had rolled over and gone back to sleep.

If it hadn't been for Laura, his wife, he would have been late. The alarm had woke her up too, and she hadn't gone back to sleep. But it had been twenty minutes before she figured out what had happened, and by then Tom barely had time to shave and hop in the shower.

Laura was standing in the bathroom waiting for him when he got out of the shower. She was the vision of loveliness. Tall, wide hips, large breasts, beautiful face. She had her hair in a bob, and it was dyed an unnatural maroon. And she was holding a cigarette. She had been trying to quit, but it wasn't easy. And Tom had never cared. He loved the way she looked when she was holding a cigarette. And she had never really done much smoking. She just lit them and held them. She looked like a woman from a 1940s advertisement. It didn't matter what she was selling, Tom wanted to buy it.

He grabbed her by the waist, getting her--his--shirt that she was wearing wet. "I love you so much," he said and planted a big kiss on her lips. His cock started to get hard there pressed against her.

"We don't have time for that," she said. "You have to get to work."