I had retired to our den for reading while Leta chatted on the phone. Sometime later, during an article about the current bear market, I felt the low hum of the shower vibrating through the house. For a moment I thought of going to her, of joining her. I enjoyed the touch of her warm wet body and we had had many pleasant moments in the shower. But something held me there in the den. Perhaps the cautiousness of my reading material had leaked into my psyche. Perhaps it was more the idea that patience would lead to greater return in the future. Nevertheless, I sat there.
Later, I heard the soft pad of Leta's footsteps in the hall. She stood in the doorway. I looked at her briefly, then coyly returned to my magazine. I must emphasize coyly, for though I feigned not noticing her, her image was etched upon my brain. She glowed with the heat and lather of her shower, her green kimono draped loosely about her. Her long, reddish brown hair twisted in wet strands. Her look was contented from the needle fine massage of the spray.
In my peripheral vision I saw the kimono slide off her shoulder, revealing a breast. Behind the cover of my magazine I licked my upper lip. Her full curves were literally delectable. Her pose reminded me of classic statuary in the books upon our shelves. I would have built a temple to her millennia ago, as I would now. I held back my smile for I knew that would show in my eyes and all over my face. Instead, I focused upon this waiting game I had devised with four leading stock analysts from the pages of a slick magazine. I reminded myself that many of this year's leading analysts are next year's forgotten failures. If I thought that Leta truly believed I was ignoring her or that I was masking something from her, I would have dropped the ruse immediately. Had she turned from the doorway, I would have pursued her. There is, after all, responsibility with power. But my Leta is clever; I was confident that she knew we did not necessarily need cards for little playful games.
She dropped the kimono to the floor and cleared her throat.
"Yes?" I said nonchalantly, looking over the edge of my magazine. I deserved an Academy Award for being so nonchalant in the presence of this lovely, naked woman-- that, or a waking slap. But had she been able to hear the thud of my heart or feel the warmth spreading through me at the sight of her, she would have been able to see through the performance very easily.
"Nothing," she said. I listened to the tone and wondered if I had gone too far. She knelt to pick up the kimono. The pose emphasized her thighs, her breasts pressed against her knees, the fan of her hair about her shoulders and arms.
I could not help but smile in pleasure and in that weak moment dropped the shield of my magazine.
She saw my smile.
I tried to cover, but like a child playing peek-a-boo, my efforts were more comical than concealing. Her quiet laugh revealed me. My head tilted in a wordless explanation and mild apology. Her smile said that neither was necessary.
I lifted the magazine to cover all but my eyes. Her brows lifted quizzically, and then her eyes grew warm.
Yes. She would play too.
She dropped onto her hands and knees.
In slow, very deliberate long moves, she began crawling toward me. I watched in fascination as her breasts swayed beneath her, as her hips and bottom carved arcs in the air. Curved slipped into curve. Muscle grew taut, then relaxed. Like a living sculpture, like some kind of ivory animal, she flowed toward me. Instinct tingled within me. I felt a low growl gather in the base of my throat.
She rubbed her cheek against my trouser leg. I put the magazine aside and petted her. She leaned into my touch.
"Tease," she said under her breath.
"You stood naked in the door and I'm the tease?"
"Yes. I thought you were going to look at that damn book all night." She bit me lightly upon my knee.
My hand tightened in her hair. "Now, now, no teeth just yet."
She nuzzled my leg with her chin. I let go her hair and cupped her cheek in my hand. Her skin felt soft and warm. I could smell the scent of her jasmine soap. I looked at her kneeling naked at my feet. I felt so very alive then, proud of her affection and desire, protective of her preciousness -- seemingly more so naked next to me. Loving. Possessive.
"Let me please you," she said softly.
"You do more than you imagine."
Her hand slid up my trouser leg. My cock hardened within my boxers. I had felt aroused since the moment she appeared at the door in the loosely draped robe. Now my cock strained against the silky fabric. Her fingers found the bulge, pressed and massaged it against my leg. I groaned.
Her fingers worked the button and zipper of my trouser fly. She took my hard cock from the fly of my boxers. I shivered as the cool air of our house breathed against the sensitive head. She stroked me slowly, her fingers twisting around the shaft and brushing the head, warming me fully. I felt myself growing harder under her touch -- so hard, I could feel her pressing against the veins that run along the side as she stroked me.
I caressed her face and twined my fingers in her damp hair. She knelt over me. I could feel the brush of her breath against the sensitive head of my cock. I tingled in anticipation at the touch of her lips. When it actually came, a jolt of electricity ran through me. I moaned through gritted teeth.
She kissed my cock from the tip of its head to the very base. Her hand massaged my balls through the fly of my boxers, cupping me, squeezing me. My hands knotted in her hair in ecstasy.
She took the head of my cock in her mouth. Her tongue worked circles round the sensitive flesh. It felt so very good to be in her mouth, to have her sucking and licking upon me. I felt almost as if my cock would melt in her hot mouth and yet there was nothing more that I wanted besides running down her throat like molten sugar.
Her hands stroked the shaft while her mouth worked my head. I could not resist such wonderful stimulation long. I felt my orgasm building deep within me -- that kind of electricity that becomes liquid fire. She looked up into my eyes and saw how close I was to coming. Her eyes lit with arousal. I could smell arousal on her body. I felt the rock-hard pebbles of her nipples brush my knees.
I watched her sucking my cock.
I felt her sucking my cock.
My breathing came in gasps.
My hips thrust involuntarily, fucking her mouth, and I felt the rush of my come. My orgasm arced along my spine and burst into my brain in flares of light. I spurted and groaned.
Again.
Again.
Deeper.
