She comes home from work in the afternoon, a little past four. She walks through the door, leaving her purse by the microwave in the kitchen like she has for a while. She hears the television running, a sports game of some sort, and knows he is on the couch, watching tv. She figures he hasn't taken his shower yet, and is relaxing after work with a beer. Sighing, she knows its not even five, but whatever, that is his way of winding down.
She walks the rest of the way through the small galley kitchen, and into the living room, with its white walls and deep emerald green carpet she thinks is so pretty. Before sitting next to where he was sprawled out on the ugliest couch she had ever seen, she asks him, "babe, did you shower yet?"
"No," he replies. " I was waiting for you. I didn't know if we had clean towels..."
"Yup," she says, reaching into the basket next to the couch and pulling out a freshly folded and clean towel and handing it to him. He gets up then, dressed only in his dusty, dirty black jeans from work, and dirty white socks, he smiles at her and walks to the basement door. She smiles back, following his sexy form with her eyes. She hears the basement door open and close, and hears his heavy footfalls on the steps. She smiles again, and looks around the living room. She notices he has not been drinking his usual beer, which meant it was a good day for him.
She stands up from the couch and stretches, then walks into the kitchen to start dinner. She thought about starting dishes, but remembered he was in the shower. So, after dinner is prepared and in the oven, she walks to the living room and picks up her novel, sits down and begins reading. Not paying attention to the time, she does not realize how long he has been in the shower. Before long, she hears his footsteps on the steps again, and the door open and close. She looks over her shoulder and sees him, dressed only in a towel, and notices he took the time to shave his face!! She smiles and marks her book, setting it down on the ugly couch. As she stands up, he walks away to the bedroom, but she doesn't follow. She walks to the kitchen instead, pulling dinner out of the oven, and setting it on the stove top.
She hears him call her name from the other room, and she walks down the short hallway to the bedroom and peeks inside. He isn't in there. She then turns to the computer room, and he stands there with two double old fashioned glasses filled each with two fingers of fine scotch. Not the super expensive stuff, but stuff that smells good. She tilts her head to the side, wondering what he was up to.
"Come here, hun," he says, and she walks over to the bar stand. " I have already had two shots of cognac. I know you have never tried Scotch before. I dare you to drink both these glasses."
She looks questioningly at him, but figures, "what the hell", and picks up a glass, sniffing it. She immediately makes a sour face at him, handing the glass back.
"You dork, you aren't supposed to SMELL it! Just drink it," he says, laughing.
"Fine," she replies. Not being one to back down from a dare, she takes the glass from his hand and slams back the Scotch and it burns its way down. Coughing, and gasping, her eyes wide open, she shakes her head, blinking. She swallows a few times, and down the other glass, much in the same manner. Almost immediately, she begins to feel the effects that the alcohol normally gives her.
As she recovers from her double Scotch dare, she feels the warmth of the liquor warmth spread through her face, across her chest and back and further south, hitting in girly places and making her near instantly wet. Breathing heavily, she looks at him, and smiles, tilting her chin down. He returns her smile and opens his arms, knowing how fast alcohol hits her.
She walks over to him, into his arms and reaches up to kiss him. Deepening the kiss, she closes her eyes, feeling his hands wandering over her back and her ass, lifting her shirt, inch by inch. She feels him unclip her bra, and her breasts fall forward. As their tongues entwine, she is vaguely aware of her pants and panties sliding sa one over her ass and down her legs, of his body moving around her. The alcohol muddles her brain, and clouds her thinking, blocking out nearly everything but her need for him.
She forgets her reservations, opens her eyes, and pushes back from him, stepping out of her pants nad panties, kicking off her shoes, and ridding herself of her shirt and letting her bra slide off her arms, all in a heap on the floor. She whips the towel off of him, tosses it into the pile of her clothes and they both stand naked as the day they were born, under the bright lights of the computer room, on that glorious emerald green carpet.
She boldly steps forward, gripping her right hand firmly around his hardness, ler left hand flattens on his chest, and she pushes him backward, not breaking eye contact. She smiles wickedly, still pushing him backwards, she walks forwards. She keeps pushing him until his back hits the front door of the house, which is in the computer room. Luckily, she misses the doorknob by several inches.
