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Lover’s Touch

Blonde

It was a little thing, just a touch as we passed in the kitchen. Liz had showered already and was cleaning up after breakfast, putting the kitchen in order so she could relax and start her day. I had just finished my workout and was getting water from the fridge. I was sweaty and steaming and the endorphins were boiling in me. So when her hand reached out for my waist, tenderly and casually, it felt right and proper. As I pulled the cap off the water bottle her hand slid to my lower back and then recoiled. “Eew, gross!” she chided with amusement. I gurgled the water and release a dramatic exhale. “Aah, well, what did you expect?” I took another long pull as she returned to her countertops, wiping them with a towel. Like I said, it was a little thing. But as I pulled the bottle from my lips and turned to look at her, the memory of her hand on my waist created a vestigial impression, almost as if it were still there. I watched her move, confident and practiced as she completed her routine. Come on , I thought, there’s nothing sexy about putting the kitchen in order . Especially in the mechanical way she went through her routine. Still, I couldn’t help watching. I’d seen it a thousand times before. She didn’t prance or give sly seductive looks over her shoulder. She just wiped stuff down and put things away with an economy of motion until she saw me looking at her and suddenly stopped. “What?” she asked. I was smiling, and she returned it, then glanced nervously around the kitchen. “What? Did Escort Göztepe I miss a spot?” she asked with a sheepish humor. Then her eyes returned to mine and they widened knowingly. “Oh, seriously? Really, Josh? I’m cleaning, and you’re all sweaty,” she laughed, but the twinkle in her eye said she agreed with me. “Can’t help it,” I smirked. And I couldn’t. I just liked watching her, and watching her made me think of… other things. She rolled her eyes, but the twinkle stayed in them. “Go take a shower, sweaty man!” she ordered with a laugh. “Let me finish what I’m doing.” I gave her a fake snarl and put the water back in the refrigerator. “Looks like you’re almost done, though. You’re not planning to clean out the cabinets or anything, are you?” I teased with one eyebrow raised. “Yes, I was going to move all the plates, clean the cabinets, reorganize the pantry,” she recited, “go grocery shopping and paint the kitchen and living room.” She cocked her head and chided, “You think you can hold out that long?” Her words were teasing, as they often were at moments like this, but I knew she was imagining the same thing I was and liked the idea. “Gosh, I don’t know,” I teased back, “I doubt it.” I turned to leave the kitchen but stopped in the doorway and turned back to her. “I might have to rub one out in the shower, then,” I grinned. “Fucking better not,” she replied, lowering her voice, her anticipation more evident on her face now. “You’d better be saving that Caddebostan escort for me.” “All yours, dear,” I called to her from the hallway as I stepped lightly to the bathroom. “If you insist!” I laughed to myself as I closed the door. I didn’t dally in the shower. When I came out, shaved and clean and wrapped in my towel, I stepped into the bedroom expecting to see her there, waiting for me, but the room was empty. I felt a moment of dismay, a remnant of high school dates that didn’t pan out and misread signals from college girls who had let on too late that nothing was going to happen. I listened for sounds in the house, half expecting to hear her attacking the kitchen cabinets and pantry, but it was silent. Damn, I hope she was kidding about the grocery shopping , I grumbled silently. I briefly considered getting dressed, allowing for the possibility that she’d gotten distracted and had just been teasing. I eyed the closet and considered dressing, then convinced myself that I should go find her, slightly regretting not jerking off in the shower. If she turned me down, I’d just be grumpy and petulant all day. Stepping out into the hallway I called her name and heard a muffled reply from down the hall, in the direction of the dining room. Dusting , I thought, please, please let her be almost done . It wasn’t that I couldn’t control my urges. I could. Not well, admittedly, but I could. It was just that feeling of her hand on me, the stirrings Bağdat Caddesi escort bayan that that simple touch evoked. I didn’t want sex. I wanted her. It had always been this way, since we met, I think. There was just something about seeing her, feeling her next to me. It never failed to arouse my libidinous tendencies. And so, in my towel, I made my way towards the dining room, half resigned to see her busy dusting and polishing things that, to my eyes, needed no attention. I needn’t have worried. As I stepped around the hallway corner I was greeted with a sight that froze me. She’d spent the time well while I was in the shower! Gone were the jeans and tee shirt she’d been wearing as she’d cleaned the kitchen. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the view of her rounded white ass cheeks facing me from the edge of the dining room table, bright and seductive above her thigh-high stockings. “Fuck, Liz,” I gasped. She’d raided the toy bag, my industrious, sexy girl. She was naked but for the stockings, bent over the dining room table. She’d strapped her ankles to the heavy legs and stood on tiptoes to keep her ass in the air. From this angle I could see her breasts pressed flat under her chest against the dark, polished wood, her arms out to the sides, gripping the edges. Her head was turned in my direction, cheek resting on the tabletop, and she’d wrapped a scarf around her head, blindfolding herself. My towel felt suddenly tight and I undid the knot, letting it fall to the floor as I stepped slowly to the table. “Oh, Christ, Liz.” It was all I could manage as I drank in the sight of her, spread and waiting, sexy and gorgeous. “Take me, baby,” she murmured from the table, “take your girl! Fuck me like you own me!” My cock stood straight out from my pelvis, bouncing in front of me like divining rod.

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