Saddle Sore

Sunday morning, Sunday fucking morning is the only day she could have a long lie and although she was obviously in need of more sleep, she lay awake with a face now contorted with pain. How could she sleep with a fanny throbbing with pain, a pain not unlike a bad dose of toothache? Only, this was worse.

With only the dim morning light to go by and unable to see the clock to witness the time, she guessed it to be after six, but before seven. There was no chance she would fall back asleep. There was no point lying there sore, bitter and annoyed. Nell got out of bed and dressed in an old nightgown.

The digital clock, when she finally saw it, blinked at five forty, cursing both the time and the ‘bastard’, still lying sleeping, snoring like a pig she hobbled down stair to make a cup of tea.

After an hour and three cups of tea, she could hear movement from upstairs, placing the cigarette in the ashtray she got up to make more tea.

Naked and for the world to see, a still very much aroused, Jack, the bastard, now stood framed in the kitchen door. “Good morning” He said stretching and smiling at the same time.

Tying the belt in defence tightly around her waist, trying her best not to look interested and unsure if good morning was a question or a statement she did not bother with an answer.

“Tea.” Jack said as the kettle began to whistle.

Again, she did not answer and to her surprise nor did she resist, as he snuggled into her back.

Sensing the mood, Jack’s hand moved downwards to the belt she tied earlier in defence, it easily gave way, and the nightgown fell to the floor.

With a teenage smile, she arched her head back and found his mouth. Her fanny now forgetting the soreness, it now throbbed with experienced knowing fingers.

Following him back to bed, Nell cursed under her breath and made a mental note.

‘Next Saturday the bastard will only be allowed half a Viagra.’


This story is fictional, with no part resembling my/our loving marriage, I do however apologise in advance for any resemblance made to any person or persons, living or dead.

Jack will admit (If questioned in a court of law!) that the part about ‘Knowing Fingers’ is in fact semi-autobiographical.