Just Not Tonight
More than love, more than lust -- this happens when two people are magnetic to the core.
Lucy and Zak aren't just in love -- they're addicted, consumed by each other. Every glance, every touch drips with filthy, magnetic tension they crave.
Just Not Tonight
isn't about romance; it's about raw, obsessive need -- where even an ordinary Saturday explodes into dark, electric lust, with hours of teasing, choking, anal, toys, domination, and unrelenting, body-shaking orgasms neither can resist.
PREFACE
Lucy and Zak are magnetic. That's the word they always come back to. They can't stay away from each other -- they've never been able to. In ten years together, they've rarely spent time apart. When they must be apart, the air shifts, like something's off-balance. It's their second marriage for both, and they live like they're making up for lost time. They work as a team effortlessly, weaving through life's demands while raising their kids and dreaming together about a future in a mountain town like the small Northwestern neighborhood where they both grew up, though they met two thousand miles away.
Lucy is obsessed with Zak. They joke about it -- call her Stacey from
Wayne's World
, with that sing-song "Hi, Wayne" energy, or to quote Isla Fisher's "I will find you" from
Wedding Crashers
. It's not scary; it's endearing, honest, and fun. She clings to him, loves him fiercely, teases and adores him.
Zak, for his part, has always been independent, someone who guarded his space and needed solitude. But with Lucy, it's the opposite. With her, he wants closeness, connection, and sharing. She's the only one who's ever cracked that part of him open -- and he's grateful for it daily.
They call each other boyfriend and girlfriend all the time, still dating each other after a decade, still putting in the extra effort: snuggling every night, kissing often, saying
I love you
out loud, making sure no one ever feels taken for granted. It's the kind of relationship that might look performative from the outside -- like something curated for social media -- but it's not--every day, year after year, woven into their everyday, imperfect, passionate, messy life.
Their kids see it. They're proud their kids see it -- proud to give them a healthy, loving relationship model and something to strive for when they're older.
Lucy is a striking, petite, and powerful woman, standing 5'2" and about 118 pounds, with a body that defies every expectation. She has natural DD breasts that have fed two children and yet sit perfectly, still perky and full at 48. She's what people dream of -- a living MILF fantasy, a little pixie-like in frame, tiny hips, thigh gap, smooth curves, and a youthful glow that's come not from trends or shortcuts, but from years of quiet, steady care. She's eaten well since her teenage years, worked out consistently, and it shows.
Her hair has been a signature since Zak met her -- it was Crayola purple when they first crossed paths, and while the shades have changed over the years, the spirit hasn't. For the last few years, she's gone for a darker shade, a purple so deep it glows in the sunlight. A little bohemian, a little Northwest, always unmistakably her. She dresses confidently and doesn't scream for attention, but naturally draws it. Zak has always encouraged her to show herself off and embrace her body and beauty, so now even close friends have seen just how stunning she is, and they've been left speechless.
Zak is a tall, strong man with bright blue eyes, blond hair, and a tight beard with a tinge of red. Lucy calls him her Viking sometimes; He's the type you picture when you think of an old-school West Coast athlete, though he's a Northwest kid who doesn't even care for the ocean. Standing 6'3" and about 220 pounds, he has long, powerful legs shaped by a lifetime of mountain biking and shoulders strengthened by years of baseball, a sport he played deep into college. As a lefty who could throw 92 mph, baseball once defined his identity, until a series of injuries from his wilder passions -- snowboarding, mountain biking, anything pushing limits -- eventually pulled him away.
Zak has always been 'that' guy: the naturally talented athlete who was equally hot and brainy. His look carries traces of that era -- if you picture a late-'90s, early-2000s baseball player with shaggy hair peaking out from under a snapback, a puka shell necklace, with a touch of that flannel Northwest mountain vibe? That's him.
For Lucy, one of her favorite things is when Zak taps back into that energy -- when he comes into the room wearing just a backward hat, nothing else, sometimes even the puka shells he keeps just for those moments, and she melts.
Zak's body tells its own story, too. He has scars -- good ones, earned over years of pushing himself too far. He has tattoos, many of which he chose together with Lucy, including a set of coordinates that mark a special place where they decided to change their lives for each other. He's a humble alpha who knows how to welcome people to try and outdo him; he thrives on growth. He loves powerful, alpha women -- not to tame them, but to lift them higher, to help make them even more powerful.
Together, Lucy and Zak are always chasing that next level -- not for control or power, but because they both believe that without growth, what's the point?
PART ONE
Lucy
I am already throbbing before he even touches me.
Zak sits there, calm and collected, flipping through clips on the screen, pretending it's casual. But I know what he's doing. He's not wanting to watch porn -- this is about watching me, waiting for me to crack, to show him I like it.
"Let me show you some of the research I've bookmarked for our play session later tonight," he says with that little grin that makes my stomach twist and heat flood between my thighs.
Here we are, 3:30 in the afternoon, cuddled up on the couch, lazily scrolling through porn like it's just another low key Saturday -- except it's not. Not with us.
I cross my legs, trying to act unaffected. But inside? My body hums, every nerve lit up.
Fifteen minutes in, I shift on the couch, heart racing, the ache too sharp to ignore.
"You should feel if I'm enjoying this or not," I murmur, my voice dropping low, eyes locked on him.
Zak
That line hits me like a hammer. For a second, I just stare, heartbeat jumping into my throat. Lucy knows when to pull me in. I move before I can think -- hand sliding between her thighs, pressing, fingers slipping over her soaked panties. Holy fuck. Soaked doesn't even cover it. I bite back a groan, feeling her pulse against my fingers, her warmth spilling through the thin fabric. My cock throbs hard in my jeans, and I know right then, today is about to flip into something much more satisfying than than running errands.
Lucy
I pull away before he can push further. "Patience," I tease, standing up to fix my clothes. I know we have things to do -- I want to get out of the house -- but I also want him on edge. I want to feel his eyes burning holes into me for the next few hours.
I fix myself up, feeling all kinds of cute again, and see Zak on the outside patio standing by the table with that little grin. He thinks we're about to light up a joint. And yeah, that's the plan -- but the second I see him standing there in the sunlight, casual but still sharp, something shifts.
Without a word, I slip off my pants, heart racing as his back stays turned. I lift myself onto the table just as he's starting to turn around. His eyes land on me, wide and hungry, taking in the sight of me spread open for him.
We lock eyes, and in a low, sultry voice, I whisper,
"Clean me up."
Zak
I freeze. Fuck the joint. Fuck the errands. My mouth goes dry. I drop to my knees without even thinking, hands braced on the table's edge as I bury my face between Lucy's thighs. She's dripping wet--wetter than before, hotter than hell. Every lick, every soft bite, pulling little gasps from her mouth, and I feel her arch toward me, craving more.
Lucy
The breeze slides across my skin as I grip the table's edge, eyes fluttering shut. There's something about being outside -- the sun, the open air, the idea that anyone could walk by the fence and hear me if I get too loud. I bite my lip, trying to stay quiet, but Zak knows what he's doing. He knows how to make me break.
Zak
I tease her, drawing the moment out, feeling her vibrate under my tongue. My cock is rock-hard, straining against my shorts. I need relief, but not yet. I want her squirming, want her so wet she can't think straight for the rest of the afternoon.
Lucy
We somehow pull ourselves apart -- barely. It's this little game we play, this half-laughing, half-serious agreement that if we want to get anything done, we have to stop fucking. At least for a few hours. We joke that it's for our safety, sanity, and to-do list. But honestly, we just love being together. Even the errands, even the chores -- they're fun because we are fun. Today, we're heading to one of our favorite outdoor gear shops and prepping for future adventure dates.
I dart off to the bathroom to clean up -- because if I don't, I'll be walking into the store with a wet spot on my crotch, and while Zak would love that, I'm not about to let him have that much control.
Zak
While she's in the bathroom, I rummage through the top drawer and pull out the bag. The bag of plugs. Not just any plugs -- not the heavy-duty, in-bed ones we use when we're going hard -- but the vanity pieces. The cute, flashy ones. These aren't about prepping for anal, but about teasing. About making her walk around knowing she's hiding a secret under her clothes.
When she comes out, her hair smoothed, her face flushed, I'm waiting. No words. I just hold up the bag.
Lucy
Usually, I'd fuss a little. Push back. Pretend to roll my eyes, make Zak work for it. But not today. Today, I just smile and take the bag. Slip back into the bathroom and close the door. I know what he wants and how much I love giving it to him.
When I return, I catch him leaning against the counter, twirling the car keys, one eyebrow raised. Wow, he's a vision. Cutoff jean shorts hugging his insanely powerful legs, the kind of thighs that look like they could crush a car door shut. That T-shirt -- soft, fitted just right -- clings to his long, lean body, hinting at his athlete's shoulders, those delts, all under the surface of this relaxed, casual pose.
He knows. Oh, he knows. Knows he looks like the guy who just rolls up for the easy pussy, casual and hot without even trying. And I'm standing there in my hot ass outfit -- a skin tight cream colored crop tank, army green haram pants, and black leather wedges. Flattering but playful, the look screams, "I put in the effort but didn't have to work that hard." We wear a matching set of teasing, knowing smiles.
