Her 120 birthday. We have been married longer than most people live. Yet she looks like sin in those knee-high boots and that leather skirt. Bikini top she wears barely covers her nipples. Flawless, creamy skin, toned body, long, flowing hair… All mine. Mine to take and touch. They can watch. They can watch all they like, but at the end of the night, when her shift’s over, it’s me she’s leaving with. It’s me who she begs for. It’s me who gets to undress her. It’s me who gets to knead those pert breasts and buttocks. It’s my name that she screams when she comes, those long legs hiked up to my shoulders.

Not once have we strayed during these years. Look, don’t touch. That policy has worked well. Seems to be working even now. She’s weaving through the crowd with ease, avoiding sticky paws with a skill born from experience, holding a tray high above her head with one hand, collecting tips with another and tucking them under the waistband of her skirt. I don’t have to do it, but I often find myself watching her instead of keeping my eye on the actual crowd. Slightest sway of her hips is still enough to give me a hard-on.

During these years world has turned a full circle. Once again mutants are more of a rumor than an actual, living entity. We’re something they keep whispering about when the lights go out. There’s not so many of us alive anymore. What they started with the Sentinels, they finished with the Legacy.

I’m working as a bouncer in this shithole, Marie as a waitress. It’s a good living. We have even managed to buy a small apartment with the money we’re making, and I’m planning to buy a new bike. I have my sights set on one that’s almost exact replica of my old one.

“Hi, honey! Care to clear me up?” Don’t mind a bit, darling… Every now and then Marie comes to me to drop off cash she’s carrying. Usually she just tosses me a rolled up wad. Sometimes she has her hands full, and I get to grope her all I like while pretending to be clumsy enough to let those bills slide inside of her skirt. Don’t really mind a bit…

“Logan!”
“Not so loud, darling. Don’t want an audience…” You would think things would have gotten quite boring and cold between us for decades ago. Same face. Same dick. Same clit. Nope. But we have gotten quite skilled at teasing each other in public places.
“Come on… I have three more hours before I get off…” Wrong. It’ll take quite a while longer before you get off, but you finish your shift in three hours.
“Just something to keep you on your toes…” I have barely touched her, and she’s all ready to go, cheeks flushed, scent of her arousal mingling with the smoke twirling around us.
“I’m on my toes all the time with you…” She murmurs, puts down the tray she’s carrying and grasps my hair, yanking my head backwards and nipping my throat hard enough to leave a mark.

Fuck. Like I said, we have both learned how to play this game. Why the hell do I wear these jeans… And what the hell is going on down there? Is that a knife?

You’d think that they learned from the first time. Or at least from the second. I guess some people are just born that way. Morons. How the hell else could you explain the amount of knives I have confiscated from Jack during these two years I have worked in here? I’m starting to get seriously tempted to drag him to the back alley of this place and show him a set of blades of my own, but that would ruin everything. Jack’s a regular. If he went missing, people would start asking questions. Wrong kind of questions.

“Ready to go?” She smells of sweat, smoke and booze when she wraps her hands around me from behind. She’s tired, but there’s one scent that covers it all, making me more than ready to pick her up and slam her against the wall, take her hard and fast, to hell with last customers still trying to find their way out of here.
“Just about it… Greg! I’m leaving now!” Big man behind the bar gives me a knowing wink and flails his goodbyes for tonight.

We get as far as to the truck, before the urge to have her gets the better of me. I crush her against the hood of the truck. She’s as impatient as I am, tearing off my shirt and leaving deep gauges from her fingernails over my chest in the process.
“Faster…” It’s kind of hard to get the fly open when she keeps rubbing herself against my crotch, but finally I’m free to plunge in to her. Took her panties off earlier when she came to drop off tips she was carrying. She has been walking around almost whole evening without them, her pussy bare, ready for me to take as soon as I feel like it.

She’s soaking wet, hot silky heat wrapping around me. This won’t take long, but it’ll take the edge off, just something small to get us home. Don’t want to get arrested for getting a blowjob while driving.
“Oh, God… Logan…” Don’t know which one she’s begging. Doesn’t matter, either. Those heels of her are digging to my back. Those nails of hers are tearing in to my skin. It’s my cock sinking in to that tight passage of hers.

“Keys… Where the fuck are the keys?” Jesus. How much stuff does she have in that purse of hers?
“Give me that…”
“Logan!”
“No keys… You forgot them?” Doesn’t matter. I have a universal key, guaranteed to open any lock. Just a flick of my wrist and we stumble in. Finally I get to tear off her clothes. All of them. I want to see and feel all that bare skin underneath me. Taste the sweat. Feel her sliding over me, leave her scent on me.
“Bedroom… Logan, bedroom…” I do have some self-restraint. Only furniture sturdy enough is the bed. Have tried couch and kitchen table with bad results. Walls are too thin. Last time I fucked her in the bathroom neighbors complained about it for weeks.

“Oh, Christ… Marie… Stop. Honey, you have to stop…” She’s sucking and licking and that tongue of hers… She’s too talented… It fucking hurts already. She’s keeping me hovering on the edge, can already feel it happening, almost coming, but just almost…
“Fuck… Get over here!” She tastes of us. And tries to clamp her knees together. Fucking teasing minx…
“Let me in…”
“You want to?”
“Uh-huh… Let me in now before I turn you over my knee and give you a good spanking…”