The summer is almost over. The kids are nearly back in school. John Brownstone’s work schedule has changed back to something more familiar. There is more time in the day for each other and less for work.
The first day of the new schedule, he walked in the door with a spring in his step. He looked more relaxed than he had in weeks. I was happy to have him home.
“Girl, get in here.” His voice rumbled out of the bedroom.
I giggled and trotted (yes, trotted) in, ready for whatever he had in mind.
He spread his arms and waited. A new and growing ritual for us, this was the sign to undress him. I unbuckled his belt, loving the clink of the metal buckle. I pulled and tugged at his fly, yanking down his zipper. He stepped out of his pants. Next, his socks. I stood up and pulled off his shirt. I was unwrapping a present, piece by piece.
The final piece of the puzzle – his boxers. Grabbing the waist band, I slid down his body, rubbing against his chest, pressing my cheek against his skin as I sank to my knees. The fabric pooled his feet. I sat back on my heels. When no further order came, I stood up, ready to walk away.
“Get your ass on that bed, girl.”
More giggling, possibly a bit of running. I jumped on the bed, on my stomach, anticipating a spanking. I wiggled my bottom at him.
I felt a tug on my shorts. He bared my ass. My skin became hot with anticipation.
I shrieked when he grabbed my ankles and flipped me over. A spanking was not what he had in mind.
He pushed my legs back until my knees were by my ears. He dove down, and I squealed.
Bare pussy and eager tongue. The sensations were almost too much.
He nipped. He licked. I writhed. My knees tried to close. He forced my body open.
Each tough of his tongue to my clit sent spasms through my entire body.
With a hunger almost forgotten, he descended on my exposed pussy, lapping and lathing at each fold. Sucking and nibbling my clit.
Orgasms rolled in waves, crashing into me. My hips pushed forward, my body begging for more. Hot juices flowed from my body, coating his beard and my skin.
He pulled back, breathing hard. His eyes gleamed. With a small smirk, he closed me legs and pulled me to the edge of the bed. I knew what was coming and oh gawd I wanted it.
In one smooth move, my legs were spread again and my cunt filled with his cock. The angle hit my g-spot perfectly. I came again, screaming in mindless pleasure.
He leaned over, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, taking his weight. My heels dug into the small of his back, demanding more. Give me everything.
Over and over again, he thrust into me. My breasts bobbled and jiggled. Sweat covered both of us. My voice became hoarse from screams and pants of “Oh yes, Daddy yes, please Daddy, yes Daddy” – a litany of lust.
When I no longer had the ability to speak, when I’d come countless times, when I was a limp noodle in the middle of our bed – he stopped. He kissed my cheek, pinched my nipple, and pulled out, almost as if nothing had happened.
Before I could roll over for a nap, he said, “Isn’t it about time to go pick up the boys?”
I looked at the clock, shocked that explosive orgasms and mind-blowing sex that left me limp lasted less than 20 minutes and it was time to re-enter the real world of pick-ups, dinner, and Mom-ing.
Our afternoon delight was over.
Rawr, right? Yeah, that’s what I was saying, too. Welcome to Masturbation Monday – the best day of the week as far as I’m concerned. Okay, y’all, go forth and read more smutty goodness. I promise it will be worth it.