Thursday, November 17, 2016

happy ho ho ho to you.


"Do you want to go first?" I ask, from my spot, kneeling on the carpet.  

Jonathan joins me.  The fresh smell of Evergreen dances in the air, to the smooth tones of Harry Connick Jr's Christmas album.  I squirm excitedly in my seat.  So far, the holidays have been perfect.  Two full days off together, with no family commitments up until later on this evening.  Never have we indulged in each other's company so completely.  And, of course, our generous holiday moods have found us in the bedroom on more than one occasion.  He even tied me up like a pretty little present.  So, needless to say, We're currently savouring the last of our alone time together before a big dinner with his family tonight.
"You go," Jonathan smiles, handing me my gift.  
"Ok," I concede, taking the square shaped, light weighted present in my hands.  "Hmm," I wonder, aloud, turning the box this way and that, even shaking it slightly; but nothing betrays its mystery.  I hope it's something sexy, I think to myself.  Perhaps some lingerie, a blindfold, some handcuffs, anything to further the role play we've been experimenting with this holiday season.  I bite my lip saucily and suddenly rip off a strip of shimmery paper.  He smiles handsomely in anticipation; even winks, flirting with me.  I turn my gaze towards the gift, squinting to find and read some of the fanciful text. "Personal massager," I read aloud.  My eyes go wide for a moment.  "A vibrator?"  I tear the rest of the gift open.  The picture displays a discreet bullet vibrator with an attractively smooth finish.  My mouth hangs open, unable to form words.  I've always wanted one.  I don't even know what vibration feels like down there.  I'm beside myself with excitement.
"Yes. However, there's a catch..." Jonathan begins, as I anxiously root through the packaging.  But, I immediately notice the seal is broken.  I quickly compare the picture on the box with the product inside.  
"Wait a minute. It looks like there's a part missing. The remote.  Aww, that's too bad," I pout.  "We'll have to take it back." When my eyes once again reach his, he smiles devilishly, producing the remote from his pocket.  My eyes narrow.  
"Listening now?" He asks, playfully.  "This part, will stay in my possession.  To use whenever and wherever I see fit.  That part," he states, gesturing to the vibrator, "will stay in your panties."  I lick my lips, the muscles in between my legs sympathetically flexing.  Not only does his authoritative tone make me wet, but the thought of carrying out his sexy task.  
"Ok..." I seductively smile, waiting for more instructions.  "And where and when exactly will I wear this?"
"Glad you asked," he smiles, matter of factly.  "Tonight, at Christmas dinner."
"With your parents? And sister?" I gasp.  No.  Could I? I picture myself at the table, discreetly carrying the dormant vibrator in my pants, waiting anxiously for it to erupt with movement.  A smile creeping across my face, half expecting it to turn on at any minute, making eyes at Jonathan from across the Christmas spread, at our little secret.  Perhaps I forget about its existence for a moment, answering a question about my job to his mother, and suddenly feel the vibrator come to life between my legs.  I stop mid-sentence, trying to compose myself, coughing to cover my reaction, pressing my napkin into my lap, apologizing.  My breathing becomes laboured as I pretend to be listening to the rest of the conversation, as I retreat further and further into my world of erotic pleasure.  I imagine myself catching Jonathan's eye, who is finding pleasure in watching me squirm.  I feel a bead of sweat break my hairline, and my face flushes in embarrassment, to be vulnerable in this way in front of his family.  Yet, I feel the flutter of an orgasm approaching.  I deny it, but the vibrator pulses relentlessly.  I deny it again and again, each time my will is weaker than the last.  I feel the climax building within me, and I close my eyes, bite my lip, trying to hide.  At which point... I imagine him turning it off.  A wicked grin emanating from his seat across the table. 

Snapped back from the daydream, Harry Connick croons, "Happy ho ho ho to you."  
My eyebrow raises with a thought.  "Alright.  Now, you open your present.  

But, there's a catch."

Friday, October 21, 2016

monkey man.

"When are we leaving?" My husband asks from the next room.

"I told you, I'm not going tonight," I remind him, as I hurriedly chop the veggies for the crudité platter we promised to bring.
"Party pooper."
"I'm sorry.  I didn't have time to find a costume."  He doesn't respond. "It's your thing, anyway," I continue. "And you can visit better with your friends.  You won't have to babysit me."  Silent, expect more chopping.  I stop. "Chris?  Are you listening?"
"Gahhh!!"  He screams, leaping out from the hallway, wearing a latex monkey mask.  
"Jesus," I gasp. "You're terrible.  The mask is kind of an improvement, though," I joke.  He rips it off, immediately.  
"Oh really?  You like Monkey Man?"  He flirts, approaching me.
"Careful, I'm brandishing a weapon."
"Then, I better stay on your good side," he winks, moving behind me.  His hands grasp my hips, pulling me towards his pelvis.  I feel his bulge against my backside, and I place the knife down to free up my hands. Grasping the edge of the counter, I lean into him, arching my back, a smile crossing my lips.  His strong hands move up my body to my breasts, which he kneads through my sweater, encouraging me to straighten.  I relax into him, my neck slackening, releasing a soft moan.  This is what I want.  Not some Halloween party.  My hair falls to the side, and I'm almost his, as he wetly kisses my neck and ear.  
"You know, we could both just stay in tonight," he breathes, and I feel the muscles in between my legs engage.  But my conscience thinks it knows better.  
"No, you should go," I say, separating from him. I retrieve the knife to finish the last of the vegetables. "Can you tell Jen I wasn't feeling well?" 
"Ooo oo ah ah!"  I look up.  He has once again donned the latex mask.  
"Here are your vegetables, Monkey Man," I say with sarcasm, handing him the Tupperware.
"I won't be late," he says, muffled by the mask.  He grabs his wallet and keys, and lifts the mask to give me a peck on the cheek.  I place the knife and cutting board in the sink as he disappears down the hallway.  More echoed monkey sounds, followed by the slam of the front door.  I smile and shake my head as I turn on the warm water.  I let it run over my hands, soaping up the sponge.  Perhaps I'll take a bath tonight.  I close my eyes, picturing it, but a noise startles me, and I cut my ring finger on the knife in the sink.  "Ah," I gasp.  The front door.  "Did you forget something?"
I grab a paper towel and wrap my finger.  When I look up, Monkey Man is standing in the archway of the kitchen.  "I gave you the dip, right?"  I open the fridge.  No, I did.  I turn around.  He hasn't moved a muscle.  Weirdo.
"Do I have to call you Monkey Man before you'll answer?"  He nods.  I smile.  We're no strangers to role play. "Have you decided to stay after all?"  I flirt, approaching him.  "Or at least, another couple minutes?"  The mask nods again.  
Paper towel clutched in one hand, I fumble with his belt.   I examine the small slits in the mask, but there is only darkness behind them.  The anonymity gives me confidence, as I unbutton his jeans, and reach down his the front of his pants.  He feels warm in my hand, as I begin to stroke him to life.  Bent forward, my hair falls to one side, first tickling, then exposing my neck.  It feels naked, and I close my eyes, longing for him to kiss me there like he did before.  I hear his breathing become laboured beneath the mask.  My injured hand unzips his fly, giving him room to grow.  Feeling him harden in my grip, I sexily bite my lip, desiring to taste him.  I look up once more to the mask, as I kneel on the cool tile.  He appears to look down at me, and I imagine an expression of desire beneath the latex.  I take his cock completely out of his pants, eyes still locked with the small slits of the mask.  I lick my lips, ready to take him in my mouth, when my eyes wander down to a completely... unfamiliar cock.  I freeze.  This is not my husband.  I look up at the mask, only to see the intruder swing.  A sharp pain in my head, and I collapse onto the cool tile.  I struggle for consciousness, still gripping the bloodied paper towel in my hand.  The last thing I see is the stranger retrieving the knife from the sink.  


Then, lights out.  

next bed post is oct 21st.