Ever have a moment thrust on you that forced you to feel the passing of every single minute of the day? To be aware of every tick of the clock with agonizing clarity, but still wish that they wouldn't run down? Chase Ventris did, seated at his desk at work, his head in his hands, yearning to jump forward in time while fantasizing about the last twenty-four hours reversing themselves. It was a trip.
The knock at his door made him physically jump in his seat, and Maggie, the receptionist, appearing with her motherly smile made him inexplicably flush with guilt. "Sorry!"
Maggie's eyes scrunched, and she gave an amused laugh. "For...?"
"Uh... for... forgetting to give you your flowers this morning?" He motioned to the bouquet on his desk. "Um... thanks for keeping this sorry ship afloat all these months, Mags. You're the greatest."
While the matronly woman cooed and gushed in genuine surprise, Chase gave a quiet, rueful laugh.
Just as well, Mags does deserve this, and I have no idea what I was thinking.
Flowers. Like that would fix... anything. No, Chase knew what had to be done, and, right there, he vowed to just get it over with. It was time to go home.
__________
Tiptoeing through my own goddamn house. Quite the action hero I am. Momma really raised a winner.
Chase's iron resolve had morphed into pewter by the time he'd got home. Who was he kidding, wet noodle was a lot closer to the truth. The second he opened his front door, his eyes swept the house like there were hidden assassins waiting to leap out from behind the furniture. At seeing no one in the foyer, he, no less paranoid, focused on the hallway leading off to the bedrooms, craning his neck as if that would reveal anything more. It was quiet. It was empty. It was the perfect opportunity. He creeped forward, a man without a plan.
"Chase." The voice, firm in its neutrality, hit him from the side.
The fucking living room. How did I forget the fucking living room?
"Can you come in here?"
He didn't know what he expected to see, but his mother-in-law that he, just the previous day, had made cum in buckets on his fingers, sitting on his couch with a game controller in her hands, watching him with nothing more than innocent patience, was definitely not it.
"I keep getting my ass kicked by this... dragon thing." She waved vaguely at the big TV where one of Chase's favorite rpgs was paused. "I have to have missed a magic wand or some shit." She tilted her head and smiled. "Help a girl out?"
Oh hell. I finally snapped. Yesterday was a hallucination.
It seemed more plausible than the idea that Isabella Rossi, God's gift to horny men the world over, along with God's penchant for random smiting rolled into one mouth-watering package, had succumbed to his loving techniques. Much more believable was that eight months of stress had finally done him in.
Except, he knew it happened. He'd spent all day torturing and rewarding himself with the memory of having her in his arms. Of the sight of all those curves that had tantalized him since he was a teenager. Of finally, after so long, being able to show affection to someone and make them feel...
"Sure thing, Issy." He saw her eyes tighten a bit at the nickname, but her breezy little smile didn't slip once. He plopped down on the sofa next to her and plucked up the controller. "If I had to guess, you need to do some grinding."
He was very aware that she stopped breathing then.
"Grinding! I mean... fighting things! It's a... they call it grinding because it's, y'know... a grind. Tedious and stuff."
She paused a full eon before she responded. "Sure. That's me though. I always want to get right to the good part without... without having to take the time..." The forty-something woman blushed like a schoolgirl then, and she clamped her mouth shut. After realizing that she was making it worse, she finally took a deep breath, stretching the fabric of her blouse--no plebian T-shirt for Isabella--and gave Chase fits until he could force his eyes back to the screen. "Show me what you mean." Another pause. "Uh, please."
Please?
"No... no prob Issy." Chase proceeded to get her character to a good section for mindless slaughter and pointed out the best ways to ratchet up the xp. "A lot of games like this are designed to eliminate grind, which I appreciate sometimes. Sometimes, though, I like this old-school style. There's something to be said about putting the work in and building yourself up. The sense of satisfaction when you absolutely dominate later is... it's..."
Isabella's breath caught a hitch next to him, and now it was his turn to blush.
Christ, welcome to everyone's favorite show; Cheese and Issy Can't Stop Making Accidental Sex Metaphors.
He cleared his throat. "So yeah. The key to grinding is to find a way to not give up out of boredom. Either lose yourself in it, or take yourself entirely out of it." At a questioning look, he kept going. "Like, just really get... I dunno... hypnotized by killing shit over and over..."
"Yeah. That's not me."
"Okay. Then find a way to distract yourself while you do it. Fight easy stuff while listening to music, or have something else playing nearby to watch. Get to the old episodes of a podcast you never have time for. Kill two birds with one stone."
"Distraction. That sounds like the better plan." Isabella took back the controller and started her campaign of tedium, and Chase felt that he was excused. The second he got to his feet though, the woman's delicate little hand shot out and took hold of his sleeve. "Chase, I don't listen to podcasts."
As she said the words, she'd kept her eyes glued to the screen, but when he didn't move, and didn't speak, she slowly turned her head to look up at him, expressionless, but anticipatory.
No. She can't really be asking for...
"Here." The word was the lowest of whispers, and she looked away when she said it, but she scooted forward on the big couch until her yoga-pants-covered ass was perched at the edge of the cushion, leaving a lot of room behind her. Plenty of room.
Chase swallowed.
Okay, the million-dollar question; how stupid am I?
Apparently he was the king of morons, because that was the extent of any deliberation on his part. Without further delay, he sidled in behind her, swinging his legs around so that he was framing the inviting woman with his thighs. She wordlessly tucked her elbows in and squeezed her legs together so that she could fit between his knees, and, when he gave a light but insistent pull at her slim hips, she slid her rear back into him until it was flush with is rapidly stiffening member.
That wasn't the only thing that became flushed. Even from the back, Chase could see a faint rose hue running up Isabella's swan-like neck, suffusing her skin as her breathing picked up. He smiled and ran four fingertips along the swell of her each of her breasts, over the blouse for now, then reached up and swept that long, rich hair to the side and over one shoulder, exposing her ear. "Lean back into me, sweet girl."
Oh wow. She likes that
. Somehow, the words got her engine humming more than his touch, and a shudder ran the length of her body. She immediately did as she was told, and leaned back so she was supported by his firm chest. For a second she was stiff, then, with a long expulsion of her pent up breath, she relaxed and melted into him. The controller in her hands drooped then, nearly forgotten.
Chase circled his arms around her shoulders, holding her in an embrace from behind. "Oh no, don't stop playing. You have a mission." When she put some life back into her hands and engaged with the rpg again, he gave her a nice squeeze, telling her that she did good. Then the real game began.
Chase did things to her that he was having to come up with on the fly. He and Bizzy had never quite been in this situation before; their naughtiness was reserved for more exotic locales. Some mutual masturbation in movie theaters, some blindfolded fornication in a friend's guest bedroom, some oral, for each, in their offices at work. This though, was new. Bizzy had never been his little video game vixen, so Chase was forging new trails with her mother... and absolutely loving it.
"Special attack." He uttered the command, and, when Isabella executed it, he gave a good firm pull to both her nipples, which were open and available now that he'd undone all the buttons of that expensive blouse, freeing her braless tits. Her gasp came with an arching of her back, which caused her cheek to rub along his, the silk of her skin playing delectably against his stubbly surface.
"Show me that new spell." He snaked his hand down to play at the waist of her tight yoga pants, waiting. When Issy gathered herself enough to do as bidden, he showed her his own magic and plunged her depths, but still held himself back, just enjoying the feel of the trimmed, downy softness under his palm. She groaned and pressed herself even harder back into him, snuggling as close as she possibly could.
Isabella's forearms were resting on her legs now, and the fact that she nearly dropped the controller twice told Chase that she didn't have much further to go. "You're a phenom, sweet girl." He ran the knuckles of his free hand along the cheek that wasn't nuzzled to his, doing nothing less than petting his little plaything. Stroke, stroke, stroke; he whispered praise and encouragement to her, even as his other fingers gave her the real reward for her efforts. "My sweet girl is so good, isn't she? Tell me you're a good girl, Issy."
Working past her near hyperventilation, Isabella managed a moan. "I... ungh! I'm a good... a good... oh! Oh shit!"
When she began humping herself hard on his fingers, Chase pulled them right out. "You're a what?"
Isabella looked fully at him for the first time since they'd started, her eyes begging. "...I'm a good girl. I'm the fucking best. Please, Chase..."
Chase smiled affectionately. "Yes you are. Good girls get rewarded." Fingers back home for the finale.
Isabella writhed against him, tossing that controller away and grasping his forearms in a deathgrip with both hands. "Yesss! God, yes, yes, yes, yes..." Her head went right up against his again, and she began planting kiss after kiss on his face, slathering his jaw, his cheek, his eyelids, until, with a last, drawn out moan she went completely limp in his arms, the aftershocks of her climax doing ungodly things to her exposed body.
They stayed that way for not a little amount of time. Chase, keeping himself from thinking about any implications, relished the feel of having a beautiful woman in his arms again. With no impetus to get her off, he let his hands wander her pliant form, just enjoying the velvet of her skin, the shape of the curves under his palm, the touch of breath on his neck as his mother-in-law murmured contentedly against him, positively purring from her afterglow.
"You were right." Eyes closed, Issy slowly began turning her body until she was straddling him, now with her thighs framing his in a reversal of the last half hour or so. She pressed her forehead to his, for some reason unable or unwilling to raise her lids and look at him. "I've never felt... this." Her arms were draped loosely around his neck, and she swayed atop him gently, not saying anything else.
Then her eyes did open, incredibly wide, in fact, and she scrambled to her feet, uncaring that her tits were still out, and threw an accusatory look at Chase. "Orgasm. Okay?" Her double Ds bounced as she pointed an angry finger at him. "I'm adult enough to admit when I was wrong, and I was wrong about having had orgasms. You were right. There, I said it. Don't think that gives you some kind of... of leverage..."
