“Can’t handle it?” I ask him sweetly.
His eyes flash dangerously, desperate to show me just how well he can handle me. But he’s respecting the rules I’ve laid down. Not sure he’s gonna let me get away with teasing him like this for too long, but flirting with danger is practically a kink for me.
He stays silent, so I press him again.
“Let me know if it gets too…hard.”
If looks could fuck…I’d be getting turned inside out right now. Sinfully so.
With one more mocking pout his way, I stand back up, stretch a leg out to one side and gyrate my hips tauntingly, working my way down with the motion, circling again and again, popping my ass out on each rotation, until his eyes look like they’re ready to crawl out of his face and plant themselves on my flesh. The only part of his that’s allowed to play right now, and he wants to take full advantage. The most bang for his buck, as it were.
That’s my cue to turn around, let him appreciate just how extra short this skirt has gotten with time. I back up close to him—can’t be more than, oh, the length of his cock away from his lap, his chest—and then I bend forward and grab my ankles. With another deep breath and visualization exercise—you can do this Chrissy—I start twerking, shaking, jiggling my ass right in front of his face. I don’t even have time to dwell on how proud I am that I could still pull that shit off. Kudos will have to come later.
My husband lets out the most tortured sound I’ve ever heard, and from this vantage point, I can see that his hands are squeezing the ever-loving shit out of his thighs.
“God, I miss this ass,” he tells the booty in question.
I do another impressive move, and he makes a sound like he’s going to come right here and now.
“I wanna do so much to this fucking ass, Di. You don’t even know.”
The strangled tone, it gives me pause, puts an idea in my head.
“Yeah?” I ask him breathily.
“Fuck, yeah.” There’s zero hesitation in his voice.
I step backward until his legs surround mine, and I plop down in his lap, right on top of his straining hard-on.
My hands come down on top of his, and I pull our joined hands to the front of my body, run them up my stomach, over my tits, and rest them on top of the swells of my breasts. My hips swirl over his length, ass playing with his hardness in a way that really isn’t fair if I’m not planning on giving him relief tonight, but I’m feeling a little devilish, so sue me. Payback is a bitch, and so am I sometimes.
His chin rests on the crook of my shoulder, breath hitting the tops of my breasts as he watches from above, his little groans and masculine noises of desperation ratcheting up the heat within my own core.
Within seconds, I’m desperately aware of the friction being created by every motion of my hips, the pull of my underwear, the chafing of the lace against my sensitive clit. The way his dick slips between my ass on one move, and now I can feel him against my core, just a flimsy bout of khaki and lace between the parts of us that belong together. It’s not enough to keep my own need for him at bay.
His breathing is labored, ragged puffs hitting my shoulder with each exhale, and I can hear in it what this is doing to him.
Too fucking bad.
I twirl my hips another couple of times right overtop his lap, let the head of his dick get as close to me as it’s going to anytime soon, and pull back.
I watch his face over my shoulder and see that his eyes are damn near watering. It staggers me, how muchneedshines through them right now. It makes no sense to me, if he’s been jerking it as often as I think he has (I need to push the thoughts of what I saw far, far away to not ruin this moment for us both), why is he so fucking affected right now?
But I unleashed a beast within myself with this little stunt.
I think there’s a word for that. Something Ellie told me once; unintended consequences, I think she called it an unexpected drawback? Something that makes it potentially not profitable or smart to take a path? Because you don’t realize until it’s already underway what other ramifications it’ll have, what else will be irrevocably changed by building in a certain area or something? Pretty sure Chance, Ellie and David were discussing this on one double date we were on.
In this case, the unintended consequences are that I’m so fucking turned on I can’t see straight. These little lace panties are absolutely soaked, and the friction I was getting from that dance wasn’t nearly what I needed to get a little relief.
I started on this little mission to teach him a lesson, but now I need more, and I’m going to get it.
I turn around in between Chance’s legs, encased by his large body, so I’m facing him once again, and bring his hands around to my back, placing them there and giving him tacit permission to run them up and down my body as I continue my dance.
I lift my left leg and drop it over the other side of his thigh so that I’m straddling that leg, and pop down, making a seat out of it. It’s not his face, but it’ll do.
His breathing is strained again, and I think I could live in a world where those pained little noises he’s making were the only currency. It’s getting me so fucking turned on. If I had those sounds, his tongue and his fingers, this would be over in seconds for me. But I’ll work within the constructs of the game I’m playing and get mine just the same.
The song restarts again, and I work myself over his leg slowly, matching the rhythm of the track.
