After he left, while my body was still pulsing and humming with unfulfilled need, I touched myself and remembered…
When he told me he’d be home for lunch, I made a plan. Walk the dog. Take a shower. Be naked and squeaky clean when he arrived. Preferably still wet from the shower and wet from touching my body, thinking about him and what he could do to me.
That was the plan.
He was already home as the dog and I walked up to our front door. When I saw him, I kissed him with my entire body, wrapping arms around his neck and a leg around his waist, opening myself to him.
“You’re home earlier than I planned. I was hoping to be clean so you’d want to fuck me.” I grinned at him. “Unless you want to fuck me while I’m dirty.”
He ate his lunch first. That was, frankly, the reason he was home. Has anyone ever eaten a sandwich faster? Probably not.
I wiggled my hips. I sashayed. I bent over, allowing my ass to hang out of my shorts. While he cleaned up from lunch, I bent over the bed, moving my hips back and forth. I wanted to provoke him, tempt the bull.
“I had plans, too, Babygirl.” He grabbed my ponytail and pulled my head back. He covered my mouth, crushing my lips into my teeth. I whimpered. “I was hoping to catch you unaware, to sneak up on you, grab you, and have my way with you.”
My bottom ground into his pelvis. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
He pushed my head down into the bed and kicked my feet apart. He pulled my shorts aside, baring my pussy. His touch was rough as he found my clit. Cold fingers, bruising touches. I squealed and grabbed the blanket.
It didn’t take long before I begged. Whether I was begging for mercy or an orgasm, I’m not sure. No mercy, but I heard, “Come for me, girl.”
My muscles spasmed around his hand. My legs shook. Heat and electricity streaked through my limbs. I squeezed my eyes shut as I screamed. As I came back down to earth, he began again. The next orgasm hit faster and harder, knocking me back against him. He held me in place until I caught my breath.
He pulled away, ready to be back at work. I heard the sink and the rushing water. I didn’t want him to be done. I wanted more. More, damn it. Fuck me. Spank me. Give me more.
His answer to these demands was to pull out the paddle and smack my ass until I pulled away and begged him to stop. As he put the toy away, I assumed my previous position and swayed my hips in a clear invitation.
Unable to resist, he shoved his fingers in my slit, twisting cruelly, pinching my clit, raking his nails down my tender flesh. I screamed and writhed as he pulled a long, painful orgasm out of me.
Yes, I begged him to stay home, to call in sick, anything as long as his cock was deep inside of me for the next few hours. But no, he’s responsible and good and decent. People were waiting on him, depending on him.
That’s why I frantically rubbed my clit moments after he left, forcing three more orgasms, swallowing back my own screams. Even now, I’m still desperate for relief. I know of only one way to get it.
But first he has to come home.
Welcome to Masturbation Monday! A big thank you to John Brownstone for coming home at lunch (a rare occurrence) and inspiring today’s smutty goodness. Yes, this really happened, and now I’m achy and twitchy and good for nothing except fantasizing about all the sex I want to have. (So really, I have zero complaints.) Okay, enough of my smut. Go forth and find something else that makes you want to touch yourself (or someone you love) on this, the best of all days, Masturbation Monday!