Date Night
Wednesday nights were Date Nights. She would start preparing right after dinner, leading her husband into the bedroom and, using the cushioned handcuffs she had bought, bind him face up and naked, hand and foot, to the bedposts.
Wednesday nights were Date Nights. She would start preparing right after dinner, leading her husband into the bedroom and, using the cushioned handcuffs she had bought, bind him face up and naked, hand and foot, to the bedposts.
The moon came out again and she saw that someone had left a pair of shorts on the sand near her. She stared at it, then looked down the beach. A shirt. Further down, another shirt. It was a trail of clothes leading down towards the water. She got out her binoculars and looked more closely.
The man was kneeling naked on the arms of the big padded chair, leaning forward, looming over her. “Take it,” he whispered hoarsely.
She felt the blood whooshing in her head and the throb of the jet engines around her. Slowly her hand reached over towards him. Don’t do that, she told herself, but her hand was past obeying. It sank down on his thigh and rested there as contented as a cat.
She checked the room number then looked up and down the hallway. Hotel room door after anonymous hotel room door, all sunk in a placid mid-afternoon snooze. She took a breath and tapped softly on the door, her heart pounding in her chest.
His cheeks felt rough against the softness of her inner thighs. She willed herself to relax and give him access to her. His tongue probed along her labia and found its mark, the tiny nubbin of pleasure that sat atop them.
Every night it was different. It was exhausting, just listening to it all and participating sexually while she spun her stories. But he did his best to keep up with her and, honestly, never complained.
The bed sagged and the covers lifted and she felt a rush of cold air on her back, then the warmth of him against her. One arm reached across her body, ropy muscles pressing against her breasts. She felt his teeth digging softly into the back of her shoulder and she gasped.
He was in a meeting with his boss when he heard the chirp that meant a message from her secret phone. He flushed and swallowed hard.
Her boyfriend came up behind her in the bed and she felt his cock against her back, rubbing slightly between the cheeks of her ass. She smiled to herself and reached back to grab his cock. This, she thought, is how it would be with Matt.
In the car he took out his phone and pulled up the photo of Amy from the org chart again. It wasn't much but, he reflected, it was a lot. He undid his belt, then his fly, and released himself.
He had taken off the awful street clothes and was perched naked on a stool playing his pipe. His cock was erect. She wondered if it was a satyr thing, always to have an erection.