"What's the theme this week, hon?" she gasped, moving up and down on him.
"Furniture, it appears," he answered. She raised an eyebrow.
"Well, we've already got a good start, here in the chair," she sighed. He nodded, thrusting a bit harder up and into her, grunting.
"What next, then?"
"Mmmmm. How about this?"
Steadying her with one arm, he swept papers and other crap off the desk with the other. Standing, he lifted her with him and dropped her unceremoniously on the mahogany surface. He grabbed at her shoulder to keep her from sliding off the desk on a tide of her own sweat. And other things.
"Ouch!" she laughed. "Not so hard!"
"Not so hard, eh?" he grinned, and began pounding into her again. "I thought you liked it nice and hard."
"Oh yes," she moaned as the hammer struck. "But only in some cases."
They stayed in that position, rocking and reeling, for a few minutes before her roving eye lit on the couch. "Oo! There! There! Always wanted to be Jeanne Tripplehorn in Basic Instinct."
"How nice for you," he growled, lifting her up and walking her to the couch, then throwing her forward over it so her round ass pointed back at him, "that I always wanted to be Michael Douglas taking her in that scene." And he spread her legs and slammed home into her. She screamed, but not in pain. "God yes! Oh, I'm liking this week's theme."
"Have to remember to thank Ang afterwards," he grunted, pistoning into her, smacking her ass. "I didn't think I could be any hotter for you, but she's managed it." He fucked her for a double dozen strokes and then pulled out with a wet schlicking noise."Next."
"Next?" she wondered, raising her head groggily, hung over the back of the sofa like wet laundry on a line. "Hey, give me a hand up, dammit."
He pulled and she flew up and into his arms. "Mmm, yes," she murmured, and wriggled against him. "Who needs furniture? We can just do it right here." And wrapped her hand around his cock to squeeze.
"Dammit, woman," he snarled, trying to sound stern, "we should at least fulfill our obligation before losing control completely. That okay with you?"
"Oh, sure," she said, and began walking towards the kitchen table, leading him by the cock. "Anything you say." She hopped up on the table and lay down carefully, spreading her legs invitingly. "Mind the breakfast dishes."
"Fuck the breakfast dishes," he growled, and drove upward, forward, into her. Her eyes went wide in mock disapproval. "But I'd rather you fuck me!" she squealed happily.
"Good," he moaned, and began doing so in earnest.
(Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Ang, the Sweltering Celt. If you want to see who else is playing this week, why not go see her?)