It was a lazy day that consisted of a few errands run and ended with us laying on the sofa together playing games on our phones. It's early and the house is still active with the dog ripping a chew toy to shreds at our feet and the kids milling about doing the things teenagers do, talking too loud and razzing us on our level of PDA. We ignore them. We will laugh when they find someone who makes them feel this way. We will remind them about excessive PDA and how kissing is overrated. But for now we enjoy our lazy moments together, allowing the sexual tension to build unhurried between us. A slow burn is always best.
He falls into a light doze, absentmindedly running his hands across the planes of my body. His proximity is enough to awaken my senses. His touch, unrushed and teasing brings them to a steady hum. At times I find it annoying that he knows me so well; that he is able to tease me this way and still function as if nothing is happening while an inferno builds between my thighs ready to combust at any moment. But I remember that turnabout is fair play and he will be at my mercy soon enough. So I relax and float on the pleasurable waves that he creates.
Of course he must have sensed my acquiescence to his ministrations and decided to kick things up another notch. Now it's not enough to graze my nipples through my thin cotton top. Now he has to reach inside my shirt to cup my breast with his palm then grip my nipple firmly between his fingers while he pulls them down as if to milk me. It is the delicious mix of pain and pleasure that arouses me more than anything and sends an instant flood of wetness to the gusset of my panties. My hips arch up off the sofa, searching for his touch in the place that weeps just for him.
I can feel his cock pressing hard against my back. It causes a wicked internal smile to know he is not immune, that my response to him fuels his response to me. I can't continue to lounge against him. I need his mouth on me, on my lips, my neck, my breasts. I raise up on my knees to face him. I know I'm doing too much. It's 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Our youngest daughter is in the bathroom, primping for a round of endless selfies no doubt. The oldest is making an even deeper crater in her bed as there is nothing she likes better than a nap.
Our lips meet and it is electric. There is something about the taste of his breath that inflames me. He slides his tongue across mine and I suck him into me, wanting more of his taste, more of him. I raise the hem of my top, exposing my breasts. He caresses one while he latches onto the other. He suckles me slow and deep with soft moans that match mine. I clutch his cock which has grown hard and heavy in his thin track shorts with one hand as I hold his head to my breasts with the other. He is biting my nipple now, pulling as he bites then soothing the sumptuous ache by sucking me back deeply into his mouth. Next the bathroom door opens and it's like a dowsing of cold water on top of both of our heads. Damn it. Kid timing is always impeccable for fucking up parental plans.
He stills me, keeping me from making any sudden moves that would give our carrying on away. I pull my shirt down to cover my exposed breasts and pretend that I'm looking at a bump on his neck. In actuality I am rubbing my thumb across the pulse at his throat. The same spot I plan to run my tongue across and sink my teeth into.
Our youngest goes into her room none the wiser. I resumed my latter position, laying with my back against him, wishing the kids were at that age where I could put them down for a nap. I try to ignore the heat between my legs knowing it's too early and I'm too horny to get into half the things I want to do to this man or that I want him to do to me. We have a knack of falling down the rabbit hole of our desires. I would have been able to control myself, at least that's my story and I'm sticking to it but my husband, ever the tease, has other plans.
He reaches lower still until his hand breaches the waistband of my joggers. The audible gasp at the deluge of wetness he finds there amuses me. Like are you really shocked by the mess you've caused? He gently encircles my engorged clit with his fingers, reaching past to trace the border of my entrance, asking if I know that my clit extends much further than the engorged kernel but into my vagina as he presses two fingers into me. His nerdiness excites me.
I know the purpose of his perpetual knowledge seeking. Pleasing me, pushing me toward the pinnacle of pleasure is always his number one goal. My hips have a will of their own. I rub my swollen clit against his palm. I'm humping his hand like a teenager in heat. A mini orgasm crashes over me but it only creates a fissure in the damn of my pent up desire. I need a real release and he knows it when a breathless, "Baby please, just the tip" escapes me.
We hurriedly make our way down the hall to the bedroom, closing the door behind us, turning on the television to lend some decorum to the situation as we shed our clothes in a frantic race to fuck. I bend over the bed as he presses into me from behind. Deep moans of lustful satisfaction escape both of us. He presses deeper inside me, effectively casting out our shared delusion that we could ever be satisfied with just the tip.
