Pretext: We're both sitting on the couch watching the news and drinking our coffee. You've been turned on needing me since the night before because both of us were exhausted and couldn't stay awake. I've been turned on since the night before because I'm just always wanting you.
You turn the tv off and turn to me, cuddling against my chest and talking to me about our day. Your hand slides under my shirt as we sit together, our usual watching tv position. My hand is resting on the back of your neck, rubbing comfortingly with my thumb the way you love. We talk about what we need to do, what we want to eat, the usual banter that gets us through our breakfast. Your hand slowly starts to stroke up and down my chest, gently rubbing my nipple when you reach it, settling deeper into my arms. Your warm sweater tickling my skin and your distracted touch start to have an affect on me. You watch me start to harden in my night boxers, aware again of the wetness dampening your panties. Early in our relationship you were embarrassed about how wet you became when turned on. I like to think my absolute obsession with your scent, your taste, and the feeling of your warm wetness gripping me when we made love has made you more comfortable with it.
I feel the material of my boxers scratching gently against my growing hardness. Knowing the effect my touch has on you, I reach my hand down the comically large neck opening of your sweater and stroke your back, letting you feel my forearm slide up and down your back while my stubby calloused fingertips scratch at your side. A satisfied smile crosses my lips as I feel your breath catch and deepen, your legs just barely sliding against each other in time with my slow movements. Seeing your almost imperceptible squirm, I chastise us for last night's laziness. Your palm against my chest lifts so just your fingertips are now exploring my skin, tracking over the still-forming abs under the still-receding fat. Climbing up my chest, you raise your face to meet mine, kissing my cheek and asking me to play you.
It's a cute reference to some our favorite things. yours being the way my hands play the guitar and piano, and mine being the musical moans I can extract from your willing body with said hands. I know it takes a little courage for you to ask for sensual delights from me, even after all these years together, but I love the way the words leave your lips. My hand slides further down your back, your body snaking closer to mine as you curl your legs under you and my palm settles on your cheek, covered only in your cheeky panties. Ugh. In younger years I was an absolute boob-boy, but we both know you have long since grown me into your ass-man. You lovingly turn my face to meet yours and our lips lock together in warm wet kisses, your hand cupping the muscles of my chest again as mine massages and teases your ass. You begin a slow rocking grind, your hips pressing back into my hand, and your chest pressing into my side, demanding attention beyond the teasing friction of your sweater against your breasts. Pulling your lips from mine you once again ask me to play you, ever so slightly more needy this time. I can't resist you, especially not when you're like this.
I reach further down, this time making my way into your panties, and sliding my finger slowly down between your cheeks. The embarrassing sensitivity between them is enough to make you arch your back a little more and giggle as my finger slides past quickly and reaches your soaked lips. Your soft whimper tells me just how much you need me, your mouth absently settling against my neck kissing me when you remember where you are, and hanging sweetly open when you lose yourself to my touch. I stroke against your lips, all the way down to your clit and back up, spreading your wetness over them from your center. Dipping between them, I stroke your inner lips and kiss your forehead, smiling at just how much I can love and lust after you all at once. Your fingers have started to grip my chest and side as your pleasure builds, not yet rushing towards orgasm. I slip my finger as deep into you as I can reach, causing my palm to flatten against your cheek and grip you possessively. Over and over I finger you deeply and slowly, your wet, sultry kisses on my neck only encouraging me.