Vignette #03

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Vignette #03 – Homecoming

It’s 7:30 in the evening, and she has just come home. It’s a long commute each way to work and back. She pushes open the door from the garage to the house, and the warmth envelops her instantly. She turns, closes the garage door, and he is there, helping her off with her coat. She smiles her thanks at him.

“Drink?” he asks.

“Yes, but I don’t know what I want. Don’t normally have a drink when I get home.” She lets him lead her to the little sitting room with the piano, the grandfather clock, and the plants.

“Sit you down, and I’ll bring you a glass of Harvey’s,” he says, and pushes her gently into the loveseat.

She closes her eyes, and feels weariness roll over her. She sinks further into the seat, and stirs to find him looking down at her.

“Wake up, sleepyhead! Have a drink while I run you a hot bath. Jets or no jets?”

“Jets, please, and bubbles!” she says immediately, and sips the sherry.

She takes another sip, and then puts the glass down on the floor next to the seat. Putting her head back again, she sighs and dozes. A fingertip on her cheek wakes her.

“You’re a light sleeper, aren’t you?” he asks, urging her to stand.

“Um bahis firmaları hm,” she mumbles, still sleepy.

“Time for your bath,” he says and leads her upstairs.

He helps her undress and slides his hands over her big breasts, along her arms and down to the bush at her mound of pleasure. She sighs, and moans a little, and he lets a finger slide in. She moans louder and sways against him.

“Maybe I should let you relax in the tub,” he whispers in her ear, dropping a light kiss on the lobe, and sliding his lips along the edge to settle them behind it, where he licks the tender flesh.

She moans again, shivering. “You’re making it hard for me to stand,” she protests, leaning against him bonelessly.

“You’re making me hard,” he responds seductively, “but you don’t hear me complaining, now do you?”

He pulls her against him, wanting to kiss her slightly parted lips, but knowing she is tired. He fights against the urge to devour her, and instead, helps her into the tub. She looks at him inquiringly.

“Not joining me?” She cocks an eyebrow at him.

“If you’d like,” he says, his pulse quickening madly.

She licks her lips. “I’d like!” Her eyes burn into him, increasing kaçak iddaa his heart rate even further. He is sure she can hear it pounding in his chest.

In a minute, he has joined her, sitting across from her, and using his toes to tease her flesh. The pulsing jets of water and his roving toes make her clit swell, and her vagina ache with need. He watches her eyes roll back in her head as he slides his big toe up and down her slit, tickling her clit, making it grow harder with each touch. When he pushes into her vagina, she groans loudly.

“Like that?” he asks huskily.

“Mmmm, yes!” she answers, and looks directly at him, as though she is asking for something. She has parted her lips again, and he cannot resist.

He moves over to her side, and pulls her around to face him, lifting her slightly and settling her atop his aching rod.

“Too tired to ride, my sweet?” he asks, pressing his erection against her hot flesh, and sliding his tongue into her mouth, devouring her.

For answer, she eases herself up enough to make room for him, and slides a hand down to his engorged sex, guiding it into her warm folds. Now HE groans, as they move against each other, the warm water sloshing kaçak bahis around them. Their movements are slow, although each wants to go faster, push harder, burn hotter. The torture is exquisite, mind-blowing. They push each other higher and higher, winding up the passion between them. He reaches between them and rubs a shaking finger against her clit and she bursts the banks of her control, boiling over and convulsing around him. He feels her orgasm as a pulsing grip on him, and he shoots into her, growling with pleasure and pain.

They hold each other until the spasms abate, kissing lips and cheeks and eyes, hugging each other close. When the ecstasy subsides, he washes her tenderly.

“Hungry?” he asks, when they are both dry and she is dressed in her comfy old red dressing gown.

“Peckish,” she says. “Maybe some salad?”

She is tired, and would go to bed without eating, but she knows he will insist.

“I’ll get it,” she says when he turns to leave the room, but he raises a hand.

“No problem at all! I’ll be back in a flash!”

True to his word, he is back in five minutes, and she is lying on her side, the gown gaping open, and a brown breast showing. The garment is hiked up around her long legs, and he feels himself stir again. She is watching him, her eyes at once drowsy and aroused, her lips parted again, and she is breathing heavily. He puts the plate down, and reaches for her…

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