“Please, like you don’t MILF yourself up to get me hard every chance you fucking get.”
Steel enters her gaze, and she takes off for the closet, and is back in seconds.
“Let’s see,” she trills, mock thoughtful about the decision in front of her. “Should I go for the yoga pants?” She holds the tight, stretchy leggings up in front of her with one hand, and my eyes follow. “Or the mom jeans?” Her other hand comes up with a pair of jeans I recognize. They’re high-waisted, loose fitting, and they make her ass look like my next meal.
My expression must give it away, nostrils are probably flaring, eyes heating as my head swims with the vision of her in them. Me taking her out of them.
An evil smile lights her cute little face. “I think we’ll go with the jeans today. After all, I’m doing a…” her voice lowers to a breathy, husky, porny kind of sound, “Target run tonight.”
She pretends to be stuck with chills, her entire body vibrating for a second, like that’s the hottest thing she’s ever heard of. Her nipples actually do harden though, I can see that much.
I want to laugh at her performance, but seeing her thrive in her role as mother to our children? There’s nothing sexier to me.
She steps into the jeans, one leg at a time, making a show of pulling them on, zipping them up, and then turns to show me her backside.
“Do they…look okay, Chance?” She peers at me knowingly over her shoulder, a saucy little smirk on her mouth that I’d like to fuck right off of her.
I bring my hands up to my head, over it, behind it, readjusting my hat, and she breathes in through her nose, struggling to maintain her composure.
Chrissy spins around suddenly, flipping her head forward so all her hair hangs down, then collects it in her hands and goes upright again. Her lower lip gets dragged in between her teeth and she looks all seductive at me as she pulls the hair at the top of her head into some sort of messy thing that somehow makes her look even hotter.
I gulp.
“You’re going to Target, huh?”
“Mmhmm.” She nods, blinking at me several times.
“You gonna get an…” I give her a dramatic pause, matching my voice to that breathy tone she was using on me, “iced coffee? Wander around and buy a bunch of shit we don’t really need? Maybe some more pillows?”
I adjust myself quite obviously, half as a joke, but also, kind of loving that visual.
She nods at me, like she’s victorious here.
“I guess I’ll just…mow the lawn while you do that.”
Her eyes flare, sparking up at that.
Yeah, that’s right, baby. Two can play this game.
Never thought Target runs and mowing the lawn would be what got us hot and bothered when we started up in our early twenties, but here we are.
She tilts her head to the side, flicks her hand out in front of her, waves it up and down, gesturing at my body.
“You can take your DILF shit and shove it up your ass, Chance. It’s gonna take more than that fucking hat to get back inside me.”
“That right?” I ask her, that cockiness she used to eat the fuck up oozing out of every syllable.
“Yeah. That look is doingnothingfor me, so try again next time.”
“Mmm. So you’re saying if I were to unzip those jeans, put three fingers inside of you right now, my hand wouldn’t be goddamn soaked before I got past the first knuckle?”
“Ugh!” She does this little ragey squeal/stomp combo that’s so damn cute.
We both know how to turn each other on like nobody else, that’s one of the perks of a long-term relationship. Endless time to learn what the other one likes, all the ways to make them shake, scream. All their favorite ways to build that anticipation before the fun begins. That’s two-thirds of the fun for me. Getting her so goddamn ready for me, by the time we get to even be together, she’s halfway to exploding.
I miss the days I got to drag her into some room at a party, after eye-fucking her all night, getting her so wet for me however I could all damn night, then taking her wherever we could sneak away, but everyone could still hear us. I fuckinglovedeveryone on the block knowing exactly who made her scream like that. I can’t even apologize for it. I’m not sorry. Not even a little. My girl is hot as fuck, and it’s always been a point of pride for me thatI’mthe one who gets to fill her tight cunt up whenever the fuck she wants me to.
God, she’d get so mad at me for that move, but she’d never come harder, either. Her face would turn red, all flushed from her impending orgasm, but also from her rage. She runs hot, if you haven’t noticed, and that temper of hers gets us both so ready to go.
