Symon & Michelle - Halftime Show

A few months into this hobby, I'd written a bunch of short, stand alone stories that wound up all being about the same couple. They are not in any particular order, and you don't need to know anything about the other stories to understand each one. Some stories are fairly tame, while others are more intense and explore fetishes, BDSM, and specifically S/m themes. I've carefully put each in the appropriate category so people know what they're reading.

I think of them as 'scenes from a kinky marriage.'

I hope you enjoy them.

Thanks, Belle

P.S -- This is a very short, tame one.

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Michelle came out of the shower, her hair wrapped in a towel and piled on her head, wearing just the plush terrycloth robe Symon had gotten for her a couple of Christmases ago. She'd gone for a long fast walk earlier in the day, her latest attempt at staving off the middle age spread she already felt creeping in.

She walked past the living room, spying Symon sprawled out on the couch, in his favorite comfortable Saturday clothes: sweatpants and a t-shirt she should really get rid of. He was watching college football. His alma mater getting creamed by a conference rival, the score looking hopelessly lopsided with a couple of minutes left in the second quarter.

Michelle paused long enough to see Symon's team's quarterback get sacked for a fifteen yard loss. She shook her head, then smiled smugly. Her team played later in the afternoon, another conference game. If hers won and his lost, her team would have the advantage going into the first release of meaningful rankings next week, with a month left in the season.

She padded into the kitchen, made herself a sandwich. Heard Symon groan as the other team's home crowd roared. She tried not to chuckle too loudly. After eating, she wandered into the living room, putting a full bottle of beer next to the almost empty one on the side table near Symon's head.

She sat on the floor, leaning on the couch, her head level with his waist. He would have moved, of course, then probably stretched out with his feet in her lap. But she'd formed a plan while she ate. She took her hair out of the towel and shook it loose.

Symon noted the beer. He said, "Thanks, babe. How was the walk?"

"Hmm. Good. Still hotter than I'd like. I should have gone earlier. But it didn't take as long to do the circuit."

He chuckled. "Yeah, you'll be happy when it's snowing on you."

He ran his fingers through the damp hair on the top of her head, twirling a lock of curls. Then another roar erupted from the crowd on the TV and he turned his attention back to the game, swearing.

Michelle shifted gradually until she was sideways to the couch, leaning on it, looking at the familiar shape of Symon's thick flaccid cock under those soft pants, confident that nothing else separated him from her touch. She waited, staring, then looking at the TV. Waiting for him to be distracted.

When he seemed fully engrossed in the game, she traced a line on his thigh with her fingertip, just where she knew his penis rested. She circled the tip and traced back along his length. She heard him catch his breath. She stopped moving her hand, leaned down to rest her head on his hip. Waited for him to relax again. Then traced another circuit, up one side, down the other, and dragged her fingers to the waistband of his pants.

When he breathed out slowly, she put her hand flat over his cock, curving her fingers around his tip. Waited again, then traced another line around. Then she slid her hand back up, toward the waistband and tugged it down. She added her other hand, pulling more firmly, until he shifted his hips, and the sweats moved.

"What are you?" he asked, the question only half formed.

"Hmmm," she mused as she arranged his cock and balls free from the cloth that had covered them. She bent down and tapped his tip with her tongue.

"Really, what—"

"Shhh. Watch your game."

She saw him shifting again, his penis rolling slightly with the movement. She stared at it, just brushing her finger up and down its length, giving him the barest stimulation possible. She circled his tip with the first joint of her index finger, as if she was measuring his circumference. She traced the large veins with that same fingertip, then added her middle and ring fingers gliding over and around him. She ran her fingers along the slit in his tip, swirling around and around his glans, then gradually lower. Tracing him, the helmet shape of his glans, bulbous over his shaft, then the long straight length, ending at the root in his pelvis, and underneath the soft bulges of his balls.

She smiled as she saw the first twitches of his arousal, indicating that her ministrations were having the desired, teasing effect. The slight shifts with his heartbeat, with each pulse the incremental increase in his girth or length. She trailed the pads of her fingers around, bending down to add the sensation of her warm breath. His dick jumped again, defying gravity a little more. She leaned forward and breathed on him, her warm moist air flowing around his cockhead and causing a surge.

Michelle felt Symon's gaze on the back of her head, listened to him breathing carefully. He stared at her, a little wide eyed. He tried to settle into the couch, tried to relax under her fingers, he thought he knew where this was going, and fought his natural inclination to take over.

She left his prick at half mast, its physics now giving her room to caress his balls. She tucked her fingers under his shaved sack, tracing the line that she always thought of as a seam. Now one hand barely touched his shaft, and the other gently explored his scrotum. She compared the texture of his skin, the smooth almost silky layer that slid so easily over the tissue now engorging with blood, versus the soft wrinkles around the globes hanging below. She watched his balls also shifting slightly, as his erection took up slack.

Michelle mused, fascinated thinking about how often she'd been this close to him, how many times and how many ways Symon's cock had been inside her, but that she'd never really paid attention to his developing erection. She'd never watched as it happened. She'd only enjoyed the end result.

She heard him breath deeply and exhale slowly. The game still playing behind her, but all her focus was on him. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and drew it up from base to tip. When she let go, he was half erect. So she licked around his glans again, and stroked him once more. Then his cock stood proud and straight away from his pelvis, the skin ever so slightly darker from the blood trapped beneath.

"Michelle," he started.

She didn't let him make his statement. She turned her back more completely to him, shaking her head, and then bending down again. Symon finally understood. She was having her way with him, and didn't want any distraction or input from him. That thought alone sent another heart beat's worth of blood into his prick, stiffening him and thickening him. He sighed, put his hands behind his head to keep them from messing with her.

When she breathed on him again, holding her lips open over his head but not touching, he almost cracked. He stared at the back of her head, the curtain of her dark hair shielding her from his gaze. He clenched his hands around his own wrists. It was the best kind of agony for him, just then, to lay still. He wanted to wind his hands in her hair. He wanted to jam his cock into her mouth, to hold her down, while he bucked his hips. He wanted to grab her by the waist, haul her onto him, and knead her butt while she played with him. He wanted her pussy in his face, and to push his fingers deep inside her while she sucked him. He sighed, heavily, and she would have seen a grimace on his face if she'd looked.

He pressed his head deep into the armrest, his eyes rolling in his head as she continued lightly touching his prick, breathing on him, fondling him like his testicles were made of old bone china, too fragile to put any pressure on. He groaned, and he swore he heard her chuckle. That made him smile. She so rarely took control like this; he was so rarely compelled to lay back and receive. He sighed again, making himself relax.

He forced himself to watch the TV, but all his attention was on her attention to him. The warmth and moisture of her breath as she bent over him. The softness in her touch, her fingers gliding over him, and then the slightly rougher skin from the callous on the side of one finger. She turned her fingers, and the stiff slide of the top of her fingernails was an interesting contrast. She was so gentle, too gentle.

Symon felt the first drop of her saliva on his head just as his team scored. A blocked field goal returned for a touchdown, and he felt his attention tear in two. She added another drop, licking his slit, and just then the opposing team muffed the kickoff reception and his team recovered. They would start the drive on the opposing team's 15 yard line. Then she surrounded his head with her mouth, her tongue making a circuit around him. His team's quarterback dumped off a shovel pass to the running back, who dashed in for another touchdown. He shouted happily as she closed her lips on him. Just like that, his team was within a touchdown of tying the score.

Michelle registered the noise and Symon's yelp. She sucked on his tip, slid a little more of him in her mouth, then sucked in again. His next utterance was a wordless, groaning, entreaty. She slipped her mouth on and off of him, slowly, barely using her lips to hold him, just enjoying the taste of him as his flesh passed over her tongue. She savored the feel of his skin slipping over his hard shaft underneath, the almost velvet texture and then the silk of his glans. She slid his skin down, exposed as much of the shaft just below his glans that she could.

She paid special attention to that, licking, swirling her tongue around, kissing the very tip. She laved him, coating him with her saliva and using the slickness to swirl her tongue around and around and around. When she heard Symon sighing again, she abandoned that portion of him in favor of broad strokes with the flat of her tongue along his length, overlapping, all the way around first one side then the other. She coated him in her spit, then sucked it off. Then soaked him again. He shifted under her again, his hips rocking slightly in what she interpreted as a silent plea for her to change her technique or touch someplace else. She took him in her mouth again, smiling, ignoring what she thought he wanted. He'd wind up happy regardless of how he got there.

Then Michelle decided to play with his balls, shifting her position again. She kept on hand on his shaft, slowly and gently tugging and stroking him, but with only a little more pressure or intensity than she'd started with. She licked his balls, laving them with her saliva too, reaching her tongue behind them to lick the underside. Then sucking one and then the other into her mouth, enjoying the feeling of the testes rolling in their sack, again marveling at the structure of that flesh in the loose package. She opened her mouth wider and captured both testicles at the same time, sucking gently and then suddenly much harder. Symon groaned, and she squeezed his shaft and sucked again. His hips bucked into her face just as another roar went up from the crowd on the TV.

She let his balls drop out of her mouth, onto her waiting fingers. She massaged and caressed them as she went back to sucking his shaft. Gathering more and more of his length in her mouth, swirling her tongue, letting him fall out so she could lick, or use her lips to lightly pinch up his skin. Her other hand making short strokes at his base while she was preparing herself.

Symon was grunting, and making guttural moans that vibrated throughout his torso. With one ear, Michelle registered that the announcers were talking a lot, and about other games. She knew halftime had started. She picked up her pace, bobbing on his cock, taking in more and more of him until his head hit the back of her mouth. She held him there, sucking, rubbing with her tongue, and humming, until she felt his balls twitch in her hand.

Then she pulled off completely, letting him fall from her mouth, hearing him groan. She went back to licking and sucking his balls, then used her thumb and index finger to circle his sack, right at the base of his cock. Whenever they twitched, she tugged down, gently and slightly. In the mean time, she shifted up on her knees, changing her angle relative to his cock and took him deep in her mouth.

She pulled back, then immediately down again, fucking her own face with him. His head slipped into her throat, as she pulled him in and opened herself up. She was making wet gurgling noises and he had started thrusting in time. Her nose met her hand on his balls and she held herself there for a second or two, then clamped her lips around him and drew herself off very slowly.

Symon's hands were digging into his wrists. His face was contorted in something that could have been pleasure or pain. He took a deep breath in and squeezed his eyes shut. He exhaled, one long groan that was an elongated syllable, "Fuh."

Michelle reversed course, sliding just as slowly back down until her nose met her hand. She held herself there another couple of seconds, and pulled off even more slowly than the first time.

Symon was babbling. Suddenly "fuck" was a four syllable word. She thought he was asking her to pick up the pace. She teased him again. Sliding her mouth down to his base slowly, pausing, then adding her fingers massaging his balls, then backing off of him very slowly. When she felt him shake under her, she relented. She coated him in spit again, letting it dribble out of her mouth even as she suckled his glans. Then one hand on his shaft pumping and jerking him off, and her mouth bobbing up and down rapidly. Her hand met her lips and they moved in time.

Symon moaned. He panted. His body twitched. She tasted the precum leaking out and licked it up. He held his breath, and when his balls started to contract, she dropped him completely, and used her hand to pull them back down.

"Oh, God. Fuck!" he yelled again. Then something he never did, something she didn't know he was capable of. "Please, babe. Please."

She smiled, delighted to have heard him beg. She kissed his tip lightly, and another groan shot out of him. She licked him softly, from root to tip, back down, and around his scrotum. She sucked each testicle into her mouth again, her hand curled around his shaft. She looked at his proud cock in her grip, throbbing in time with his rapidly beating heart, engorged, purple, with more precum leaking out. It glistened with her spit, and she squeezed gently, testing the hardness under her hand while she licking and suckled his balls.

As she moved again, shifting up on her knees to swallow him again, she glanced at Symon's face. His eyes were tightly closed, and a sheen of sweat showed on his forehead. She grinned.

Symon moaned again, breathlessly. She was driving him crazy. He thought increasingly of just rolling off the couch and shoving himself into her pussy. His balls were heavy, full, ready to explode. His cock stiff and straining at her touch, weeping precum, and he was on the verge of begging abjectly, on the verge of crying if she didn't relieve him.

Symon groaned, low, hoarse and soft, "Michelle. God. Help me. Michelle."

When he took another breath he knew words kept coming out of his mouth, but he no longer knew what they were. He just hoped that she'd take mercy on him.

Michelle listened, delighted, feeling a little evil. She enjoyed this control over him, enjoyed that the tables were turned for once. Symon babbled more, incoherent, entreating her, something more desperate than begging. She noticed the restraint he was using on himself.

She decided she'd played with him enough, had taken enough of his time, and that she'd enjoyed herself completely. She repeated what she'd done a minute ago. Both hands now wrapped around his shaft, sliding up and down him in time with her mouth. She sucked and hummed; she licked and swirled her tongue. She filled her mouth with him, filled her hands with him, took deep breaths full of his scent.

This time when he held his breath she kept going. When his breath shuddered out, and his hips bucked, she kept going. When he panted, she moved faster, held him a little tighter. Then he held another breath, shoved his hips up to her face and pulsed there. His balls contracted, and he erupted.

His sperm shot into her, coating the roof of her mouth, and down her throat. She stopped moving and held him there until the last spasms subsided. She was full of his taste, briny and a little sweet. One she'd grown to enjoy over the years.

Symon's body relaxed, flopping onto the couch as he let loose a contented sigh. She felt him playing with the ends of her hair, one hand twirling in her locks and petting the section that had fallen onto his chest. He was still babbling softly.

Michelle swallowed around his cock, drinking down his seed, and settling him as far back in her mouth as she could. She laid her head on his stomach, waiting as his penis softened and subsided in her. She moved her face, sliding closer to his pelvis as his cock retreated. When he was mostly flaccid again, she licked him clean, kissed his head once more and then kissed his sack.

She pulled the waist of his sweatpants down, out and around, putting him away. Then she stood up went into their bedroom and got dressed, in her own soft sweatpants and ratty college t-shirt. After, she went straight to the kitchen, getting herself a beer. When she came into the living room, she tapped Symon's shins.

He pulled up his feet, let her get settled, propping her feet up on the ottoman. Then he put his feet in her lap, and she dropped her arms down over his shins. She glanced at him because she'd felt him staring at her.

"Can I ask?" he said.

"Nope," she responded.

"Well, ok. Anyway. That was amazing. Thank you."

She swigged her beer and chuckled. "Mmm hmm. I know. You're welcome."

Much to her amusement, Symon's team's rally didn't last. They lost the game by three scores. Later, her team won. It was a highly satisfying Saturday.