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.
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