Lynne's Monday Morning

I just added a photo because, well, because I like it.OK, so I had two free hours thsi afternoon, and I just sat in the shop and wrote.
Heer is what I did.
And I have no idea of whatthis is.
If it's a flash fiction, or the first chapter of a longer story, or just a some trash.
It's rough and written in a single session, so sorry for any repetition or shit.
I just added a photo, because... well, because I like it.
Please let me know what you think of this story (or whatever) in the comments.
I have a few confused ideas, but I want to hear yours, too.
So, speak up!

Anyway, here goes. I needed a title, so I called it

Lynne's Monday Morninng

Art was still snoring, his chest raising and falling regularly. Lynne sat up and slipped her feet in her slippers, and yawning, stretching she went to the bathroom. She pushed back her hair and massaged her neck, then she sat on the  toilet and relieved herself.
She ran her tongue over her teeth, still tasting the excesses of the previous night.
Walking back to the bedroom, she noticed that Art was getting a nice morning wood, the sheet bumped in an unmistakable way.
She chuckled, and sneaked under the covers from the feet of the bed, crawling on all fours between the man’s legs until she could smell his erection and her lips found his cock in the dark.
He hummed as she swallowed him up, her tits brushing against his thighs. Art woke with a start as she began pumping down on him, and he gave a laugh. His big hands slipped under the sheet and he grasped a handful of her hair, guiding her as she increased the tempo. He pulled his legs up a little, pressing with his feet on the mattress as she closed her hand on his balls and started squeezing.
“Whoa,” he said, but she just went at it harder, and suddenly with an animal groan he arched his back and erupted in her mouth, pouring down her throat like lava from a volcano.
Then he relaxed and stretched out, and she snaked along his body and rubbed her nipples against his chest.
“Good morning,” she whispered, kissing him on the lips.
He squeezed her ass, but she was already rolling out of the bed. He sighed, and watched her bend at the waist to collect her black and pink dressing gown, and then walk out the door.

Lynne pulled the dressing gown on, rolling her head to work out the kinks in her neck. From a pocket she retrieved a pack of Slims and a lighter, and fired up.
She walked into her daughter’s without knocking, just as Tara’s alarm clock started buzzing.
Tara slapped it silent and looked up at her mother.
“I hate Mondays,” she said.
With a chuckle, Lynne handed her the lit cigarette, and the girl sat up on her mattress, and took a long toke. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
Lynne had started her on 120s when she was twelve, and now that she was sixteen the girl wouldn’t start in the morning without a cigarette.
“Get moving,” Lynne said.
Tara nodded, working the cigarette. She stood, pulled down the oversized Pokemon tee she slept in to cover her ass, and staggered to her en-suite bathroom.
Lynne went down to the kitchen.
She started the coffee machine and prepared the breakfast table.
There was a short rap at the back door, and Carla walked in. She was wrapped in a fluffy electric blue bathrobe.
“Hi, honey,” she grinned, coming in.
They made for a stark contrast, Lynne in black and pink, tall and so blonde her hair were almost white, falling in a tangled mop over her shoulders, and Carla short and soft, her black hair in a pixie haircut.
They leaned into each other and shared a long wet kiss. Holding a box of cornflakes in her right hand, Lynne used her left to caress her next door neighbor hefty buttock.
“Had a good night?” she asked then.
Carla ran her tongue on her lips. “You certainly had a good morning,” she laughed.
“You know Art—” Lynne said.
Carla chuckled. She took a cigarette from the pack on the kitchen counter and lit up. “I married him,” she said.
“No reason to let the last bit go to waste, right?” Lynne asked. She put a bottle of milk on the table. “How’s my husband?” she asked then, eyeing Carla.
The brunette smiled smugly. “He won’t complain.”
They laughed.
“He’s waiting in the car—” Carla said, nodding towards the back door.
Art came into the kitchen, adjusting his tie. He kissed Carla on the lips and squeezed her tits. “Hi, love,” she whispered.
He accepted a cup of coffee while he checked his socials on his smartphone. The two women shared a glance and rolled their eyes. Art drank his coffee and was out of the door just as Tara came into the kitchen. She was wearing her school uniform. She kissed Carla on the cheek, she dropped her bag on a chair and sat down. She refused the cereal and just grabbed some toast and a glass of milk.
“I’m late,” she said.
“Your father is waiting for you,” Carla said.
Tara nodded, and lit another cigarette. “How’s Junior?” she asked with a grin.
Carla laughed. “You’re a terrible tease,” she said.
“Me?” Tara asked, standing and brushing the crumbs off her blouse. Carla’s eyes followed her hands as they caressed the girl’s chest.
“The poor kid is wanking himself blind all over you,” she said.
Tara grinned. “Now that’s a nice image.”
“This little exhibitionist,” her mother said affectionately. She patted her on the ass. “Hurry, or your father will be mad.”
Tara kissed her mother on the cheek, waved at Carla, and ran out of the back door. Carla’s eyes followed the gentle rocking of her ass under the plaited kilt. “She’s good enough to eat,” she whispered, wetting her lips.
Lynne slapped her friend’s arm. “My daughter, too?”
Carla shrugged. “Junior’s not the only one that enjoys her little shows.”
Lynne shook her head, scoffing. She poured two cups of coffee, and they sat down at the table.
Carla pushed her toes against the arch of Lynne’s foot, and then up her calf. Lynne chuckled and snorted smoke from her nose. Carla ran her foot along Lynne’s leg, and then between her thighs.
Lynne closed her eyes and threw her head back, enjoying the massage. She took two, three deep breaths. The dressing gown slipped open, fell from her shoulders.
Carla kept going slowly, the empty cup in both hands, a dirty smile on her heart-shaped face.
Lynne sighed and fell forward, leaning on the table, her melon-sized tits spilling out of the pink and black fabric with a sensual swish.
“Here on the table?” Carla asked.
Lynne nodded, and gasped. “Yes!”
“Wait,” her friend said.
From the pocket in her bathrobe she retrieved a glass vial with a silver stopper. She shook it and Lynne’s eyes sparkled.
“Let’s do this properly,” Carla said. She took a spoonful of coke and snorted it, closing one nostril with her thumb. Licking her lips, Lynne watched her dust up the other nostril, then took the vial and served herself two bumps.
She stood, the dressing gown falling on the floor, and she put a knee on the table, climbing on top.
“Let’s have some fun, lover,” she growled.