My pussy is wet again, soaked at the thought of getting your cock into my mouth again. I hum as I move around the house, trying to keep my thoughts off of what I would really rather be doing. There are chores to finish, and I want the house to be presentable when you get here. I've already taken one break because I needed to finger my pussy. If I stop again, I won't get everything on the list done.
I glance at the clock, then at my list. I have about twenty more minutes until you should be here, and still three things to do. Trying to hurry, I grab the broom and sweep up in the kitchen. Almost unconsciously, I run my hands up and down the length of the broomstick. I remember, in my single days, fucking myself with whatever I could find that even slightly resembled a cock.
I laugh at myself, getting my mind back on the task at hand. I finish sweeping, but there is not enough time to mop before you get home. I go down to the last chore on the list and instantly I regret not reading the entire list first. You had wanted me to go to the store and pick up some supplies.
I groan in disappointment and look at the clock again. Ten minutes? Not enough time. What the fuck am I going to do?
I hear the garage door open and I groan again. You are home early, catching me with two undone chores and wet panties. I run up the stairs, stripping off clothes as I go. I am always to meet you naked, kneeling and waiting for you in the middle of the bedroom. I take a minute to throw my clothes into the hamper, then smooth my hair at the mirror.
I can hear you entering the house through the kitchen, and I know I am caught. I kneel on the floor, my hands resting on the tops of my thighs, my legs open wide, my head down. As I listen to you mount the stairs, I wonder how I am going to explain myself.
Damn. I'm in trouble again.
I glance at your feet as you enter the bedroom. I almost feel sorry for you—you are dressed for work, in a suit and tie, busy all day with meetings and clients. As a teacher, I have the summer off, free to complete chores for you, or nap if I have time. Or watch a porn and get myself off.
When we had first gotten together, you had made the rule that I could not masturbate without permission. But soon you realized that I am often overcome with a wet, aching pussy. I got in trouble a lot for getting off without permission. The rule was dropped when you tired of punishing me. Besides, sometimes you will call home to see if I am laying in bed, fingering myself. How many times have you wanted me to come to the office to relieve you under the desk?
And how many times have I? I giggle at the thought.
