You were standing in the kitchen when I got home, putting away the last couple of bits of shopping. You heard me drop my keys in the bowl by the front door, and called out a hello, and I replied in kind.
“How was your day?”
“Antsy! Nothing in particular, just a low tolerance for for stupid people in supermarkets. Oh, and all the idiots seemed to be out on the roads today.”
I step up behind you and wrap my arms around your waist, nuzzling your neck.
“Well it’s chill time. I’ll make dinner in a bit. Risotto?”
“Mmmmm” is the only reply I get.
“If you’re antsy, does this help, or make it worse?” I ask as my left hand comes up to hold your right breast through your blouse. You release a quiet gasp and wriggle your hips into my groin.
“I’m not sure ‘antsy’ is the word I’d use to describe how you’re feeling. What about this? Does this help?” I sweep the hair away from the back of your neck and kiss it gently. I feel your weight leaning on me as I nip it gently with my teeth, then more as I open my mouth wider and bite gently just below your hairline. Your hips are rotating against me, grinding against nothing; greedy for … something. Anything.
I hold your neck in my teeth possessively, and raise my hand from your breast, letting my fingers scratch over your nipple, which brings another gasp and wriggle. I close it around your throat, adjusting my grip carefully. You freeze your movements, just ragged, uneven breathing. That’s not my grip – I’m just holding you – that’s you being so horny you’re almost forgotten how to do it.
I pull you back against me, spin you around and push you back against one of the tall cupboards, moving in to bite and nibble your neck , pinning you in place by your hair. You think you can trust me not to leave marks, but you’re not entirely certain; there’s no fucking way you’re going to stop, or even pause to check. I tug your blouse from your skirt and reach up a hand, pulling your bra clear of your breast.
“Did you say ‘antsy’, my love? I’m not certain that’s the word I’d use.” I take your nipple between my fingers and squeeze it gently. Then harder. Then HARD. Your eyes and mouth both flash open at the same time, and you gasp. “I’d say you’re horny as fuck”, I growl in your ear as I ease the pressure. You make no response, so I take you by the throat again and give you another tight squeeze of the nipple.
“Look at me.”
Your eyes open, glassy and not really focussing.
“No, LOOK at me,” as I squeeze hard. “Pay attention, don’t break eye contact.”
I now have your undivided attention. I grab the hem of your skirt and give it a sharp tug, pulling the press studs apart with a pleasing staccato patter. I check your knickers are daytime-sexy, not special occasion-sexy before I grab the waist in my fingers and pull them away from you, hard. I hear the threads start to creak and part before they give up. That’s going to leave a mark on the inside of your groin. You’re welcome. I let the ragged scrap fall to catch on your knee. That’s a memento for later. I kick your legs farther apart, and reach down to separate your lips and gather your moisture. I barely need to; you’re so fucking wet, it practically drips onto my fingers. I push my fingers into your mouth, and join them with my tongue. I want to fucking consume you. I want to kiss you with more violence, with more teeth and nips and bites and more … everything.
I pull away from you and your eyes are closed again. You try to open them, but they’re glazed with lust once more, and you’re barely there. I kiss you, draw back and slap your face, squeezing your nipple again.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep your eyes open?
I know it’s unfair. I don’t care that it’s unfair.
I reach underneath you again and draw your slickness forward from your cunt to your clit and you hiss; I repeat the movement again, and again, and again. Your knees start to wobble and I can see you’re concentrating on the feelings, and starting to give in to the orgasm.
“Eyes…”, I growl. I get your attention back, but I can tell it’s all getting a bit much. This time as I reach back, I slide two fingers into you, slick and unresisted, then three, beckoning you. I can feel you starting to crest.
You snap back, you’re trying so fucking hard, and I’m making it so fucking difficult.
I let my thumb start to caress your clit, and my little finger scrape over your anus. You’re so wet, but I can hear and feel you getting wetter. I know you’re not going to be able to hold on for much longer.
I can feel your effort, but you have no chance of obeying.
“Please can I cum?”
“Not yet, just hold on a little longer.”
“I can’t hold it, I need to cum!”
Oh fuck, I know you do.
“I’m going to cum!”
“Not yet! In 10. 9. 8… 7…”
“Fuuuuucking hell! Fuuuuck!
“1. Come for me. Let me fucking hear it. Come as hard as you can”
There’s a beat of silence, every muscle in your body is locked rigid, and then it comes. I can’t spell the noises you make; the shrieks as your cunt gushes all over my arm; the gasps as your fingers grip my shoulders, the nails biting hard; the incoherent noises as your legs wobble and give up and I take your full weight and I lower us both to the kitchen floor. I ease off as you pull me in with your arms. There’s no talking yet, and there won’t be for a while. I can feel your cunt juices seeping through my trousers, and it makes me smile. I can feel your ragged breathing, and it makes me smile. I can feel your arms squeezing me tightly, and it makes me smile.
“I fucking love you.”
“I fucking love you too.”