I had been baby-sitting for a couple of friends all day and the kids were safely tucked in bed. Gina and Mike had returned from working late, and Gina and I were fixing dinner in the kitchen.
I walked out into the dining room to put out the salad. Mike was sitting at the table drinking a beer. As I bent over to set out the bowl, Mike leaned over and popped my nipple into his mouth. Sucking through my thin T-shirt, he ran his hand up the back of my leg to the cleft between my ass cheeks and flicked his fingers lightly across my cunt lips.
"Mike . . ." I whispered. He smiled up at me insolently, and I backed away into the kitchen.
Red-faced and flustered I looked at Gina standing at the sink. She turned and stared at my titties. Could she see the wet spot that Mike had left on my t-shirt? I grabbed the pasta and we all sat down to dinner. I was having difficulty meeting Mike's eyes, but the dinner, wine, and conversation flowed.
After dinner, Gina insisted I relax while she cleaned up. I walked into the living room where the sound of Gina washing dishes melded with the laugh track of the late night talk show Mike was watching.
Patting the seat beside him on the couch, he opened the afghan lying across his lap. I sat down and he pulled the blanket up to my shoulders, lazily draping his arm around me. I drowsily rested my head on his shoulder. Closing my eyes, I almost fell asleep. I felt his hand reach down and palm my breast, weighing and squeezing lightly. His thumb brushed over my nipple, then he was pinching and rolling it between thumb and forefinger. I felt electricity shoot between my tit and my dampening pussy. Mike kissed my forehead and whispered how sweet my titties were. I roused and tried to pull away, but Mike said "Shhhhh, baby, did I hurt you? Let me see."
He pulled my T-shirt up and his lips were on me in a second: sucking the puckered nipple, then licking while his teeth held it fast. I groaned and he laughed quietly.
