Jenny fretted as the minutes ticked by and her darling man, her husband Tom, had still not come home. She had been buoyed up by the knowledge of them having a weekend entirely to themselves and had spent the day like some lovestruck teenager wanting to see her love. She wanted him and had fantasized about what they would do with each other that evening.
She had dressed up, only a bit, and had chosen a sleeveless camisole top that shaped her breasts and revealed the depth of her cleavage. It was just as she wanted. Buxom she may be, but her breasts had headed south after having and nursing two kids, yet exercise classes had trimmed her waist and restored what had once been an hourglass figure. She was encouraged to look after her figure, as Tom continued to lust over it and needed little encouragement to
'slip her a length'
as he so often put it, crudely, but in his only too direct ways of it.
The doorbell rang and she cursed, not wanting any visitors to see her dressed as she was for her man and no one else. She opened the tiny slatted blind fixed to the pane of glass set into the middle of the door and laughed, soon tugging open the door.
"What a surprise!" she called out as Tom hid his face in a large bunch of flowers that she pushed to one side, her mouth soon latching onto his. "Come inside...."
"Where?" he grinned, his eyes drifting over her.
"You'll find out, Tom Gough!" She already knew from his look upon her that what she had chosen to wear had the desired effect upon him. Jenny soon felt his hands on her hips as he drew her to him.
"You look wonderful, good enough to eat," he whispered warmly in her ear, Jenny pushing his jacket from his shoulders and Tom loosening another button on his shirt. The greying hair on his chest tickled her lips as Jenny pressed her mouth to his skin and breathed in his heat.
"I could say the same of you..."
She leans back against him and moves her head as his fingers caress her neck and throat, brushing the tumble of her auburn hair away from her lightly made-up face. He offers soft kisses to her skin and whispers that he wants her as he cups one breast and gently squeezes on it, its weight not adequately held by her blouse. His other hand sweeps down over her softly rounded tummy, stroking her skin in lazy sweeps, each touch sending little shivers coursing through her body. She pushes back against him and feels the swell in his trousers press against her bum, shaped so well by her fashionable jeans. He reacts, cups her breasts in his large hands as she laces her fingers with his and they kiss, slow and searching each other's mouths with swirling tongues.
She laughs softly, in disbelief, as she feels how wet she has become from the gnawing desire to be taken by her man, to share in his inventive and energetically passionate ways with her.
'What's so funny?" he teases as she is made to turn and face him. She basks in the knowledge of what lies behind the look of his wonderful grey-blue eyes upon her and she caresses his face and runs her fingers through his short greying hair. Her man always did look after himself and she's been encouraged to do the same.
She answers him with a coy smile, dragging him along the hallway and into the living room. "Oh, that we seem to have had the same idea for what to do tonight."
Tender kisses are again exchanged, and she hugs him tighter as their kisses become wilder and deeper, more intense and she feels the swell in his trousers. It presses against her belly, and then her pussy, as they move. She groans out of pleasure and arousal. She feels so wet and yet they have hardly begun!
Tom slumps down on the sofa, the evening breeze wafting over them. She has opened the wide bi-fold doors to make it feel as if they are outside, but no one will see them as she straddles his hips and tugs away his shirt, kisses his skin, and feels the brush of his chest hair to her face.
"How I love being with you like this!" she gasps as he pretends to have trouble unfastening her bra, a soft smile on his lips suggesting it's all part of his slow game to bring her on. Tom knows how she loves to feel his hands on her body, most of all on her breasts, and how she caresses his face with them; his hungering mouth always offering tender kisses, his lips tugging and caressing her nipples. She feels how hard they have become already, the fabric of her blouse perfect to reveal the effect that he has upon her.
They groan together through their kisses and caress each other's naked bodies, wherever they can touch and kiss, Tom's hands gripping the swell of her breasts and she pushes forward, delighting him as he does what she knew he would.
"They're only for you...only for you," she groans, pressing them against his cheeks and she feels his sharp intake of breath as she does so. "Yes, take those too!"
His lips have clamped on her hard nipples, these claims changing to the pinch of his thumbs and index fingers. He tugs on them, stretches her skin and she shivers.
"I love and lust after you, woman of mine...what you bring to me," she hears him say as Tom kisses her skin. His tongue soon glides and circles over her nipples, circles wider and she is possessed by the tugging cramps of longing and reaches down to grab for his prick, pushing hard against his trousers and her crotch. He fumbles to loosen his belt and she reaches down and grabs him, hard; massages it awkwardly but it's enough. He groans and squirms; presses his face to her breasts once more, and clamps on them, hard.
"I know, but don't bruise me...don't, darling!" she yelps and is overcome with the rushes of longing for him as, impulsively, she begins to unfasten her jeans, an expensive statement buy at a local women's boutique favored by richer women in the neighbourhood. Tom helps her as she looks lustfully at him, teases his senses by brushing her fingers over her slit, and lets him know just how far she's gone in wanting him, by exposing her wet folds.
"Go on, put on a show for me," he leers, and leans back on the sofa, watching her slowly begin to finger herself in a slow and steady rhythm, in and out. "We're alone and can do just as we want."
"And you're overdressed," she laughs, leering at him as she moves to kneel on the floor before him, soon tugging at his trousers and briefs, Tom lifting his help to help her in undressing him. With trembling fingers, she soon grips his hardening prick. "I'm going to have you, like this...to begin with."
She licks and swirls over the domed tip with her wet tongue, and slicks over its length until she pauses. Tom's hands are in her hair, and he pushes, has her mouth engulf his prick and she begins to suck, to take him deeper. She groans and shifts on him but keeps her man's love wand so deep in her mouth where she has wanted him to be. Wanton thoughts of what they would pursue, from the moment he came home, are now made ragingly real.
At first, she traces her tongue over its length, from his ball sac to the very tip, and does so as she looks at him lustfully and toe gauge his reaction. His groans of pleasure compel her to continue. Her tongue draws lazy circles over the tip, or she sucks upon it but her claims go on for longer and deeper, and she feels it brush against the roof of her open mouth.
