Suddenly it was past 1 am and, despite promises made to ourselves about early nights, we were still not in bed. Daughter’s swilling out of the Augean Stable that is her bedroom last weekend produced a mountain of dirty laundry which we have been slowly chipping away at during the week. There were business letters to write which couldn’t wait, orders to process. There always are.
”I had thought we could have some fun tonight…” Heather started, apologetically.
”It’s OK, I’m knackered too. We can just snuggle, and you can fall asleep in my arms. I’d like that”. I finished for her.
She lay face down across the bed at an angle, her head resting on my chest, an arm draped across me with the hand resting on my shoulder.
Slowly, imperceptibly at first, her fingertips traced the course of the sinews framing my armpit. My nipples stiffened. Tingles of electricity were set coursing up and down that side of my body. This was no accidental brushing of fingers on a sensitive spot by a sleepy partner who just wanted some rest. It may have started off like that, but as soon as she sensed my reaction she became more focussed. More determined. I couldn’t see her face, but if I could, I’m sure it would have been wearing that wicked, wilful smile I love so much.
There were no lips, no tongues involved. No kisses, no words. Just the lightest of fingertip touches painting fantastical arabesques from my armpit down the side of my chest and around, but never touching, my aching nipple. Creating, but nowhere near satisfying, a craving within me. I groaned and, in search of some relief, reached down to my groin. My cock was rock hard. Invisible to me, it felt monstrous, obscene.
”Now see what you’ve done to me” I whispered in mock reproach. I guided her hand down for her to feel for herself.
”Oh dear. I suppose we’re going to have to do something about that”.
She rolled over onto her back, put her hands nonchalantly behind her head, spread her legs and waited for me to climb aboard. She was so delightfully tight and slick. A sensation of closeness combined with the sense that she was ready for me. Expecting me. This feeling intensified my need to have her, to posess her totally, and I fucked her hard and fast, all the time gazing down into those eyes, alive with mischief.
She kept shifting the position of her legs; spread out flat, then high in the air, squeezing me in a scissor grip, clamped round me tightly or bent at the knees and gripping my sides so that her heels bounced up and down on the small of my back, and with each shift, I changed rhythm, angle of thrust, emphasis. I went through the whole repertoire from short, hard little jabs to bouncing so that the slats of the bed creaked in protest, to glorified press-ups over her supine form while she tweaked and pulled my nipples.
Despite the February chill outside, I had broken into a sweat. Part of me wanted to go on all night, to prolong the pleasure infinitely. Another part craved quick climax and then sleep. Blessed sleep. Heather forced the issue by pulling away from me and rolling over onto all fours. She wanted to finish it up with a good hard ball-slapping shag, doggy style. And that is exactly what she got.
”That’s another ’O’ I owe you now”. I laughed when finally the passion and fury were all spent.
”Mmmm. What are you going to do about it?”
”I had thought of taping you into that armchair and pleasuring you with my tongue until you beg me to stop”.
That answer seemed to satisfy her and, as she rolled away from the heat of my body to sleep. I amused myself by running through my mind the various different ways in which you might use an armchair.
The first free evening we get…We just need to get half-term out of the way first.
