Those Red Satin Panties

It was a typical, quiet Friday night at home. You were watching television, your head cradled on my lap, as I sat in one of your soft, old t-shirts and my red satin panties reading the latest erotica. I had just read a particularly juicy scene and must have been squirming a little, because your head turned towards me and you took a deep breath, your lips curving into a wicked smile . . . and I knew you were done watching television.

"Can you pause that for me?" you ask as you nuzzle your face into the gap between my legs as I'm sitting criss-cross-applesauce. You pose it as a question, but I hear the order in your voice.

My breath catches in my throat, and I feel my panties dampen even more, as I reach for the remote to pause the television as requested. A good girl always follows instructions.

I start to put my iPad to the side, but you stop me, telling me to read aloud the part that I had just finished reading, the part that had me so turned on, the part that made me wet.

I'm blushing, but I know I won't get away with putting you off or distracting you, so I might as well just get it over with. As I start to read the steamy sex scene, you sit up next to me and being kissing my neck and ear. You always know just the spot beneath my ear that makes me crazy. My voice falters, and I once again try to put the iPad down.

"Continue."

Your voice brooks no argument, so I continue reading, my voice a little raspier and my breath a little quicker. Your hand reaches down the gaping front of my t-shirt, and I know I'm not going to be able to keep reading much longer, but because you told me to, I try to continue.

I need to anchor myself to reality somehow . . . between the sexy words from the book and your hand and mouth at work on my body, I feel like I could float off . . . so I reach a hand out and rest it on the reassuring hard warmth of your thigh. I know I could move it just a few inches for access to what I'm craving.

When you reach a hand down and rest it on mine against your thigh, I pause in my reading, afraid you're going to make me move my hand. A quick pinch of my nipple from your other hand reminds me to keep reading, and instead of removing my hand you move it further up your thigh until I'm caressing you through your pants - exactly what I was hoping for.

I only get a minute of touching in before you move my hand and take the iPad from me, instructing me to get up and bend over the arm of the couch.

I do as instructed, and the next thing I know the iPad is on the couch in front of me with an order to keep reading. With a deep breath to steady my voice, I pick up in the middle of the scene where I left off, just as I feel you finger trace down the seam of my red satin panties. I didn't even get to take them off, but I know you like the feel and look of the red satin against my pale skin, so I'm not surprised when you simply push them to the side, and after making sure that I'm wet enough, simply slide right in.

The first thrust halts my reading again, but a sharp smack to my bottom reminds me to keep reading. I continue reading, gasping with every thrust, pushing my hips back into your hands, meeting your hips. As your tempo picks up, the iPad drops, forgotten, from my hands and my head sinks lower into the couch cushions, offering my ass up to you, giving you a different, deeper angle.

You've forgotten the story, too, and your hand reaches around my hip, searching out my clit to give me that extra nudge over the edge. Between your fingers and your thrusts, I'm lost and I come, pulsing around you, pulling you in, but you're not done yet.

I whimper a protest when my body feels your departure as you pull out . . . and finish on the back of my red satin panties.

I love quiet nights at home with you.