The sight of my stunning wife on my counter, legs spread, finger working her clit as she watches my reaction, hell, there’s nothing in the world short of a bullet to the chest that could stop me from coming apart at the seams.
I palm my cock through my pants, barely aware that I’m doing it, just trying to take the edge off while I watch her show me how she wants it. My other hand shoves my sweats down, the waistband snapping against my thighs, and then I’m standing there in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, my dick so hard it’s already soaking the cotton with pre-cum. I squeeze myself, groaning at the pressure, and fuck if her eyes don’t go straight to bulge, her lips parting in a greedy little gasp.
"Tell me what you think about," I command, voice rough. "When you do this and I’m not here."
Her mouth works. Her other hand braces on the wood behind her, knuckles white, and she keeps rubbing slow, tight circles with her middle finger. "I think about you," she whispers, barely audible. "I think about you coming home after a long shift, your hands dirty, your voice all gravel. I think about you pinning me down and making me take it the way you want."
"Goddamn," I mutter, chest tight. "What else?"
She’s getting bolder now, hips flexing into her own touch, whole body open for me. "I think about your mouth," she says,and her cheeks flare pink, but she holds my gaze. "I think about you going down on me, eating me until I can’t think straight."
I groan, actually groan, the sound embarrassing and desperate, and pull my boxers down so my cock springs free, thick and flushed and already leaking. I wrap my hand around the shaft, stroking in time with her fingers, unable to look away from the sight of my wife pleasuring herself and talking so fucking dirty it’s like she’s pulling this fantasy out of my skull and giving it a name.
"Keep going," I urge, stroking myself harder. "Tell me what else you want."
She hesitates, her breath coming in broken pants, then whispers, "I want you to taste me. I want you to put your tongue inside me and not stop until I’m begging."
I can’t take it anymore. I drop to my knees again, and grip her thighs, so soft, so goddamn smooth, and spread her open even wider. She’s pink and slick and glistening, her clit swollen and begging for attention, and I bury my mouth between her legs with a growl that vibrates through her entire body.
The taste of her is better than anything I’ve ever had. Sweet and a little salty, pure Lisa. I lap at her, slow strokes at first to make her squirm, then faster, more relentless, fucking her with my tongue and squeezing her ass in my hands to hold her right where I want her.
She comes completely undone, hot cum draining from her pretty pussy.
I slow down, giving her a breather, flicking her clit with my tongue until her whole body goes taut. Then I press a kiss right to the tip of her clit, the gentlest, softest thing I can do, and watch her break apart for me. Her thighs clamp around my head, her hands twine in my hair, and she lets out a sound that’s equal parts sob and moan, hoarse and perfect in my ears.
She’s still shuddering, hips rocking through the aftershocks, when I stand and scoop her into my arms. She’s boneless, pliant, the flush on her skin working its way down her chest and painting her breasts with a hot, needy pink.
"Stay here," I say, voice hoarse with want.
She nods, and I make it to my bedroom in record time, rip open the drawer and grab a condom. By the time I come back, she’s slid off the counter and is standing unsteadily, hair messy, cheeks flushed, nothing but those lacy panties bunched around her ankle and a wild, dazed look in her eyes.
I kiss her before she can say a word, pulling her against me so her bare tits press into my chest, her nipples dragging over my skin. She tastes like herself, like me, like everything I’ve ever wanted. "Bedroom," I grunt, and she nods, already letting herself be steered through the house.
But halfway down the hall, I change my mind.
The sofa is closer. I want her now.
I hook my hands under her ass, lift her bodily, and deposit her face-down over the arm of the sofa, so her tits are pressed to the back cushion and her hips are perfectly presented, ass up in the air and her thighs trembling.
Fuck, she’s perfect.
She looks over her shoulder at me, eyes wide, mouth open, and I see something flickering there, uncertainty, yes, but also trust. A desperate kind of trust, like she’s giving me something no one else ever has.
I stroke her ass, palm it, then lean down and bite the curve hard enough to leave a mark. She shivers, breath coming in quick little gasps.
"You ever wanted this before?" I ask, voice low and rough, fingers tracing the seam of her pussy.
She bites her lip, nods. "I… I used to wonder what it would be like. To have a man take me like this. From behind. To not be able to see his face, just to feel him… inside me."
The confession almost undoes me. I thumb the edge of her entrance, feeling how soft and hot she is. "Ever had it before?"
She shakes her head, hair falling over one eye. "No. Never."
"You will now," I promise, and roll on the condom with one hand.
I settle behind her, grip her hips, and nudge the head of my cock to her entrance, already slick and open from how hard I made her come. I press in slowly, spreading her inch by inch until she sighs, then moans, then shudders so hard I have to hold her steady.
"You okay?"
