The Chair

Aerosmith's 'Ragdoll' was blaring on the stereo...raunchy, sex-studded lyrics filled the air. She had one leg draped over the side of the chair. The dress shirt she wore, his in fact, was unbuttoned. Her eyes were closed, a look of wordless bliss on her face and a smile of rapture on her lips. Her cunt was wet and her fingers dipped and slid against her slick flesh.

This was how he found her.

He was pretty sure she had not heard him come in, and was not even aware that he was standing across the room watching her. But, then her eyes opened and he knew he had been wrong. She had known all along that he was there. That he had stared, transfixed as one song ended and another song began. That the long, lazy movements of her fingertips between her thighs had mesmerized him.

Her emerald eyes beckoned him closer, close enough to feel her heat, to inhale her scent.

He moved slowly forward, passing the stereo as he went, turning the volume down to a conversational level.

"Hi, beautiful," he said with a soft smile on his face.

"Hi."

"The CD is on the fifth song…how long have you been sitting there?"

"Since the beginning."

Her fingers had not stopped their hypnotic teasing.

"Like that?" he asked, indicating her erotic state of undress and display.

"No."

"No?"

Her voice was dreamy and soft when she spoke next, and he had to kneel at her feet and lean close in order to hear her.

"I started out just sitting here, closing my eyes and listening to the music, thinking of you. The next thing I knew, I had unbuttoned my shirt and had begun to stroke and tease my nipples." She drew her hands up her body and showed him exactly what she'd done…cupping her breasts and flicking her nails over her nipples. She pulled and twisted them, lightly caressed them.

"I see," he said with great difficulty, words barely slipping past the lump in his throat. He swallowed. Hard. "And then what happened?"

"I got wet," she whispered, a playful little smile on her lips. She slid her hands down her stomach and parted the slick flesh between her thighs. Wetness was slowly trickling out of her. Her clit was hard and a deep shade of pink.

The lump in his throat was going to be cutting off the air passage soon. "Y…yes, I would say that you got wet."

She nodded excitedly as though they had come up with an answer to a problem that had been plaguing the world for centuries. He had to smother a laugh. She was at once cute and adorable, yet sexy and wickedly erotic as well. She was the picture of innocence having fallen at the foot of temptation, offering all that she was.

He'd never wanted her more.

"And you know what else?" she softly asked.

He shook his head, his eyes wavering between hers and her fingers.

"I ache. Deep inside. Like there's something waiting and clawing to break free."

Oh fuck! "Ah…well, you should do something about that," he said in the same conversational tone he had started out with, though his body and mind were both churning with needs and desires that frightened him. He pulled her hand up to his mouth and drew in a deep breath. Her scent filled him and he shuddered from the inside out. He rubbed her fingers over his lips, then parted them to draw her wet digits inside. His tongue circled around them and dipped between them. He sucked on them all at once and each at one time. He caught her gaze, saw her lust for him. It was sexual, it was animal, and it was so tender and loving that he knew he'd give her anything she wanted as long as she continued to look at him just that way.

He drew her hand slowly from between his lips, kissing the palm in a soft heated gesture of passion, then placed her fingers back between her legs. Laying his head on her thigh, he watched at close range as she again began to pleasure herself.

And it was all for him.

She moaned and his eyes lifted to her face. She had drawn her bottom lip between her teeth and had begun nibbling on it. He smiled at the rapture he saw, at the flush that covered her from head to toe. Looking back down at her fingers dizzily fondling her sex, he slowly slid a finger of his own through her wetness. He slid it inside her, moving it in and out, fucking her slowly, making sure to coat it well. When he slid it out, it never broke contact with her skin, sliding down to her little anal hole.

She adjusted herself in the chair, widening her legs. He slowly rimmed her, then began sliding his finger inside her tightness. The further in his finger went, the harder she rubbed her clit. The harder she rubbed her clit, the faster her fingers fucked. He got into a rhythm with her, matching her thrusts with his own. Her hips were bucking in the chair and her moans were coming in squeals and keening groans. His name was a monologue on her lips.

His breath warmed her hand and her sex. He licked her thigh. He was hard. And his eyes never left her.

She held nothing back from him. She was his…in body, in soul, in mind. She opened herself up to him in ways he'd never thought a woman would.

And then she came. His name was a choked scream from her lips in pure unbridled passion. Her fingers continued to pump in and out of her cunt, but his finger stopped its motion, feeling her ass contract around it. Her moans turned to whimpers, and her whimpers to whispers of her love for him.

Together they slid their fingers out of her body and he leaned down to kiss her wet flesh. He loved the scent and taste of her just after she came. He always tasted her immediately…sweet and strong, thick. It would coat his tongue and cling to the insides of his mouth. He would taste her for hours afterwards, licking his lips.

He shifted on the floor beside her, attempting to stand, and it was then that he noticed it. She had not been the only one to come. He looked down and saw the wet stain on the front of his brand new dress pants. He sighed, and then he smiled, wicked and naughty, knowing that she would need to be sweetly punished

"Why don't we go out to dinner," he said mildly, wondering if he had any fresh batteries left in the house.