We’ll be shopping for a new bed soon, ideally something with a sturdy frame, crafted from solid wood.  If it’s got tie points, even better.

Let me back up a bit.  On Saturday morning, I took our daughter to a birthday party.  We were out until the afternoon, and by the time we got home she was sound asleep, and Jack was very horny.  I put the baby to bed, and Jack and I retired to our own bed.

We made out for awhile, and Jack fingered me.  Then he slipped down between my thighs and gave me head while I rubbed my clit.  I came hard, so forcefully that I could see my wetness all over his face.

I needed him to fuck me.  For some reason, we did it in the reverse of our usual orientation, with our heads at the foot of the bed, and our feet at the head.  We’ve done this before, but it isn’t typical.  We started off with me riding him in cowgirl position.  I tend to ride really hard, like Jack is a mechanical bull and I’m a drunken city girl at a country bar in cut-off shorts and cowboy boots.  I grind hard against Jack, my hips and my ass undulating as I moan or even scream.  Jack seems to like this.

As I rode him, I played with my clit.  I’d already had a very intense orgasm, and my actions were partially for show.  But when he noticed what I was doing Jack put his own hand into the mix and got me off quickly.  As my climax hit me I collapsed on top of him, my undulations gradually slowing to a halt.  I lowered my mouth to his and he gently bit my bottom lip, sending a jolt straight to my still-quivering, still-dripping pussy.

When my heartbeat returned to normal, Jack wanted to be on top.  I took his place on the mattress and spread my legs wide for him.  He fucked me like it was the first time, or the last time.  The only word that comes to mind to describe his movements is “pounding”.  He’s pounded me before, of course.  But this was something altogether different.

By this point, we’d moved the mattress about six inches from the wall.  It felt like the mattress was sliding off of the box spring, but looking at my mirrored closet doors they were perfectly lined up.  In the mirror, Jack did notice that the head of the bed was rising off of the ground.  That should have been a red flag, but it wasn’t.  After all, the foot of the bed, where our heads were, didn’t seem to be dipping at all.

Suddenly we heard a crack and lurched forward.

“We broke the bed,” one of us said.  I don’t remember if it was me, or if I heard Jack say it.  But it was true!  We had broken our bed!  We stopped fucking and got up to assess the damage.  Sure enough, one of the legs was broken, hanging by a thread from the rest of the frame.