by Cyan
Copyright 2002 by Cyan
All Rights Reserved; No Redistribution.
The realization had been slow penetrating my mind: that happens sometimes when I'm reading. Beth had just cleared her throat a second time after just a few seconds. I looked up.
She was standing in the door, looking at me. In a nightgown that I'd never seen before; in fact, I'd never seen anything like it. It was completely transparent; I mean not a bit of ruffles or lace to hide a thing. She might as well have been naked. But somehow, her wearing this thing was more suggestive than mere nakedness. She looked at me: not smiling or frowning, perhaps a little intently. I'm sure I gave her a questioning look. I wasn't used to this. She padded over: her feet were bare. As soon as she stood in front of me, she knelt down. And was undoing my zipper.
I was ready. It had been only a few seconds, but I was already getting hard: her wearing that outfit; her kneeling in front of me like that; unzipping me without even asking. I was in heaven as she took it in her mouth. She looked up at me briefly, but then concentrated on my cock.
I could have lived that moment forever: the softness of her lips, doing their best to excite me. Her tongue along the underside. I couldn't remember anything like this: we'd done a little of this lying in bed, but never in the living room with her kneeling in front of me. I found my hands on the side of her head, and despite what she was doing to me, I was careful to caress it gently. She glanced at me again, but kept at it. I felt so hard, so close.
Then she was off me. She didn't say a thing, but was looking into my eyes. Then she turned over and pulled our ottoman close and leaned over it away from me. She looked back at me briefly, then turned away, leaning on her forearms.
It was obvious what she wanted: I couldn't believe this. I knelt behind her and with my hand, put my cock against her sex. She was soaking wet. I slipped into her like we'd been doing it for minutes all ready, and was rewarded with the sound of her breath intake.
We were in rhythm: she pushed against me each time I thrust. I looked down at her back, covered by that obscenely transparent nightgown, if you could call it that: it certainly wasn't meant for sleeping. I ran my hands up her back and through her hair, then gently took her hips to help guide us in our coupling. She didn't say a word, but her breath was audible and growing louder. Neither of us had said anything since she'd cleared her throat.
I felt her picking up the pace. Both her motion and her breathing told me she was prepared, ready for the climax. I took hold of her hips more firmly, but making sure I didn't hurt her. Then I held her against me, stopping our motion, pulling, locking us together. For a second, there was no sound but our breathing. Then I slowly drew out. All the way out, or almost all the way, so my cock was just barely touching her, so when I went in again, we could experience again that feeling of my entering her.
It felt so good, my cock right at the opening of her vagina: I pushed in just enough to enter, then pulled out again, slowly repeating that little motion several times. I was hoping this felt as good to her as it did me. I finally heard her voice, a strangled sounding vocalization on her breath. Suddenly she pushed herself hard against me and I found myself once again deep inside her.
That was enough: we were immediately going at it, much faster than before--I was coming--she was moaning out loud...
We sat on the carpet, me leaning against the couch, her leaning against me. My arm was around her. Her body shuddered a couple of times: I thought she was shivering for a moment. She pressed the side of her head against my chest. My mind was adrift, in thought and the recollections of those recent moments.
And there was something else in my mind: awe. Awe at the fact that Beth had done this; instigated it; followed through. We slept in each others' arms that night. I loved the way she smiled at me that morning during breakfast.
I was still thinking about it that day at work: what had gotten into her? We'd never done anything like that: she always seemed to prefer the bed for anything. And that nightgown, and the kneeling, the oral sex. Wherever these ideas had come from, I was thankful. And it was evident she'd done it all for my benefit: much as she likes good sex, she'd obviously aimed to create a fantasy-night for me.
The more I thought of it, the more I realized: whatever had given her the ideas, it was for my benefit that she'd used them. Gotten that nightgown, found the boldness to kneel like that, and unzip me: she never did stuff like that.
We kissed when I got home. I found myself kissing her again after supper: not sexual or passionate, just a kiss that said "I love you". She looked happy at supper and I couldn't escape the feeling it was happiness for my benefit: it made her happy to have done something like that for me.
Beth. She did a lot of things for me--things I often took for granted. The more I sat there, the more I realized I needed to do something in return. Something special, and soon. She deserved it.
We'd finished supper and Beth was starting to clear the dishes. "Leave them," I said.
She turned and looked at me, a dirty plate in each hand. It's like my mind was empty except that I was certain that we were going to do something different: we had to. But what?
I took the plate out of each hand and put them on the counter. She looked at me, but I sensed the kitchen counter affecting her like a magnet: she hates letting dirty dishes sit there. But she looked at me. Her face was curious.
I was curious. What now?
Suddenly I was carrying her in my arms. Her arms were around my neck and she looked at me but didn't say a word. Then we were in the bedroom. I placed her carefully on the bed, her back against the wall at the head end.
She still looked at me curiously and I smiled at her. I leaned forward to whisper in her ear, knowing we were going to kiss, to keep kissing until she was wanting something more.
Her hand on my chest stopped me. I didn't get the chance to whisper those three little words. She looked at me, her hand still pressing firmly, letting me know not to come closer.
She smiled: a slight smile.
"Undress," she said.
I looked at her: she looked back at me, clear expectation in her eyes. I felt like I needed to kiss her: that's what's right; she loves kissing. But now she was telling me something different. Which should I do? Obey my instincts or obey her. . . command?
Her hand didn't waver from my chest. Still her look of expectation.
I stood. That slight smile returned to her face for a fleeting second, then the return of that expectant look. I found I'd been thinking about the process, unbuttoning, unzipping, right in front of her, and suddenly I felt nervous. Doing this for Beth? Like this?
"Well?" she said. Still expectant.
Well, I'd started this: I had to finish it even though it had turned into something I'd never expected. Besides, somehow I had no choice: something inside me had to do what Beth was asking. I got my shirt unbuttoned and pulled it off. It was so strange: going through all those motions, Beth just watching. Yes, I'd like watching her do it, but now I could see how it could make a woman nervous to be watched like that. But it was also most definitely exciting.
I stood there: naked. Something told me not to make a move, but to stand and await her word.
"In the top drawer on the right," she said. She was looking past me at her dresser. I opened it. "On top," she said.
It was the nightgown. I stared at it. She didn't say anything, but I could feel her eyes on me. What did she want?
I picked it up: that's all I could think to do. I held it up in front of her. She'd made not the slightest move to undress: she still sat on the bed, her back against the wall at the head. There I was, holding the nightgown.
"Put it on," she said.
"Beth. . ."
She smiled. "For me."
I still stared at it. It was Beth's size rather than mine. It wouldn't fit me the least little bit: it would look ridiculous. What was this about?
I'd been looking at it, but my glance at her once again revealed the expectation in her face.
I put it on. It didn't fit: it was tight, too short, as ridiculous as I'd expected. While I'd been pulling it on, she'd swung around and was sitting on the edge of the bed. Then as I stood there watching, she kicked off her shoes, then pulled off her pants and underpants.
I stood there above her, in that ridiculous thing. She looked up at me, sitting at the edge of the bed, wearing nothing below her waist.
She giggled as I did it: knelt between her legs and licked. It had been obvious what I should do next. She just giggled for a second after I started, then sat there quietly. I tried to look up at her face once to see her expression but it was too difficult to see. She put her hands on the side of my head, rubbing my hair lightly. I kept licking and was finally rewarded by an "mmmm". I could hear the smile on her lips.
I licked, knowing soon I'd be hearing her breathing. I found myself waiting for it: that first breath that's just a little bit louder than normal. I did my best, searching for what would do it for her this time. Finally I heard it: a slight sigh of a breath.
And she pushed my head away. I found myself sitting, looking at her: she'd stopped me just when I was finally getting to her.
"Lean over the bed," she said. And she was standing, and I found myself on my knees, leaning away from her.
I didn't look. I felt her kneel behind me. She raised the hem of the nightgown from my rear, though it was so short on me she hardly had to.
She grabbed my hips. And pressed herself against my rear. She started grinding against me, herself against my cheeks. I felt her sex pressed against my cheeks, pressed hard, rubbing.
I simply knelt, feeling her rubbing against me. She held my hips tightly. "You like this?" she said.
I didn't answer. She went on: "You like your wife fucking you like this? Answer me!"
"Yes!" I heard my own voice.
Suddenly her hand was on my cock: she'd leaned forward over my back and was reaching around me. Still pressed against me. I was hard as a rock. "Yes, you do, don't you?" she said and giggled again.
She started to squeeze my cock, repeatedly, rhythmically. She still ground her sex against my rear, and pressed her body against my back. "Show me how much you like this," she whispered.
Cyan Stories
Erotic fiction, sex stories, for erotica lovers.