I came home earlier than usual and it was a bad day. Meeting after meeting, assholes everywhere, faking grins and nods to people that didn't deserve it. I knew that morning it was going to be a bad day because these meetings had been planned for weeks. I walk in, and I can smell you cooking, so I head that way. You always know when I'm coming home, and you always have the house smelling so good, whether it's food or incense. Your back is to me so I stand there and watch you for a few minutes. I want to act out to get your attention. I want you to feel some of the turbulence I felt all day, and then I want you take it out of me. You hear a chair scraping the floor and when you turn around you see me half dragging half carrying it a few feet from the table to place it a few feet from the kitchen counter, facing it in your direction. You smile at me and greet me, of course. I smile back at you because you look so delicious standing there, oblivious to what I have planned. I've been thinking of this all day. You turn back around to finish cooking. I let you because I don't want the food to burn. I have lengthy plans for you and it requires the food be done. I'm grinning big, patiently waiting for you to say dinner is ready. It was such a long day but watching you has already made it better. You finish at the sink and walk over to me. I give you a long deep kiss and I'm still sucking on your bottom lip when I pull away from you. I kick off my heels and push you backwards to sit in the chair. I have a look in my eyes and you know it means I'm feeling playful and naughty. You also know that can sometimes be dangerous because I'm unpredictable. I step back a few feet out of your reach, unzip my skirt, and let it fall to the floor. You look from the skirt to my legs and your grin fades as you notice that I wore my black lace stockings to work, the ones you bought for me a few months ago and told me never to wear anywhere but here. My grin spreads wider knowing you see now that I wore them.
You say to me, "Thought I told you not to wear those to work." I giggle, shrug and say to you "Shhh, keep your hands at your sides". I grab my phone from the kitchen counter and start playing Who You Do It For by Ramsey. I unbutton my shirt and you're able to see that I also didn't wear a bra to work. This too is a no no. I grin a little bigger at the displeasure in your eyes. Even though you're starting to get a little upset, you're also very turned on. I know because I can see it through your jeans. I unbutton my shirt all the way, but I don't open it. I want to watch your eyes while you watch me walk to you, looking to see if my shirt will open enough to let you have a peek. I walk to you and bend right in front of you to unzip your jeans. My long blond hair falling in your face, tickling your skin. You don't reach up to scratch it though because I told you to keep your hands in place. I like to see you struggle not to touch me when I'm so close that you can smell me. It lets me know that you want me. I can see that you want me, but needing to touch me is different than just putting your dick somewhere. At the moment it's easy for you to ignore the brush of my hair on your face because your attention is on the opening of my shirt, waiting to see a glimpse of something. I tell you to lift up so I can wiggle your jeans down, and gripping the sides of the chair, you do it. Speaking to you softly and making sure your eyes are on mine, I raise my left leg, bent, to put my foot between your legs, and I run my hand along my thigh showing off the stocking. After popping the top of the lace trimmed hem with my thumb I say to you "You mean these?" You watch my hand run along my thigh and start to lift yours but I say "No". You give me a cocky look that says "Alright, I see what you're doing. I'll let this play out, for now".
Leaving the stockings on, I straddle you, putting one foot on each rung under the chair for better support and leverage. I wrap one hand around your neck so I can hold onto the back of your head, squeezing tight and massaging, pressing on pressure points and tendons that send jolts of sensations down your arms. With my other hand I reach down between my legs to pull you out of your boxers and hold you at an angle that's easy for you to enter me as I sit all the way down, sliding to slowly grind against your pelvis, maintaining eye contact so I can see how good it feels to you to be inside me as far in as you can go. I whisper in your ear telling you about my day. I whisper to you softly while I ride you because I know it gives you something to focus on to keep from cumming too soon. You listen closely because you know at times I might quiz you on things said, always testing how well you listen, and you want to get it right every time because you crave the attention it rewards you. You're so hard and stiff and I'm so soft and warm, but you listen to my words as they weave a spell for you to follow, all the words carefully fall into place perfectly aligning your thoughts with mine until we both sizzle. I tell you softly that I thought about you today and when I did I touched myself. Looking in your eyes I tell you that I slid a finger in while at my desk but I didn't cum. I did, however, put my finger in my mouth and tasted me, tasted what thoughts of you placed there, and it was sweet. Nuzzling your face and bathing myself in your sweat, I grind a little faster on you, squeezing and rubbing your shoulders. Going up nice and slow, and hovering just above your tip, but not allowing you to be all the way out, then quickly sliding back down again so I can hear your grunt and watch the corners of your eyes for signs of how close you are.
I'm getting close again, so I sit all the way down on you, feeling you throb inside me. I'm so tight around your dick you can feel my heartbeat squeezing you in tight pulses, begging you to release, but I sit very still because if I move you might cum. You've started chewing your bottom lip so I know you're close too. We still have a ways to go yet, don't cum, I whisper to you. I kiss you slow and long, and I can feel one of your fingers tapping the edge of the chair, just waiting for it to be your turn. I open my shirt now so you can feel my bare skin against your chest. Your chest is nice and warm, hard from the strain of not moving, not cumming, and not grabbing hold of me the way you want to. I give you a throaty laugh because I know what's coming next and you don't, and the reaction in your face will make whatever you do to me so worth it. I kiss your cheeks starting at one end and moving across to the other side with slow and deliberate pecks, ending on your mouth. I slide my tongue through your lips and it tickles you for a second so you flinch. I suck on your tongue pulling it out of your mouth slowly and holding the tip with my teeth, not biting down too hard, just holding it in place while looking in your eyes. The softness of my breasts press into you and you think I'm embracing you as I wrap my arms around you but then you realize I'm reaching behind you, behind the chair. This causes me to rise up a little, half way, and my pussy twitches around you slightly, causing you to moan and grunt when I sit back down on it. You moan and grunt and say "Mhm, yep".
This makes me laugh. I know you're really saying that you're letting me have my fun now but my time is coming. A worried look crosses your face just briefly, but it was there long enough for me to see it and I commit it to memory. When you see what's in my hand now you understand the look in my eyes when I started this was the dangerous one, not the playful one, and you remember seeing me during breakfast playing with this and wondered what I was thinking. Earlier that morning anticipating the day would be unpleasant, I taped a fork to the back of the chair for later use. With later being now, I hold the fork up in front of you and ask if you're wondering about it. I start to slowly grind on you again, keeping you nice and hard. I ask if you're ready to find out what this day has been like for me, grinning while I place the tines of the fork on the tip of my tongue and press down a little.
I see the worry creases on your face and I laugh quietly. I tell you how perfect you are inside me, and how so very good you're being. I'm bouncing on you a little more, grinding hard before going back up. You're gripping the sides of the chair tighter, almost quivering with not being able to grab my ass with both hands and force me to go harder. You want to grab me and give me what I'm obviously asking for, and getting increasingly frustrated, but doing so well keeping your hands down. I take the shirt all the way off letting it slide down my skin and onto the floor. Your eyes follow it all the way off my shoulders, enjoying seeing all of me. I haven't seen what I'm looking for yet so I take the fork tines, cold steel, and start at the top of your shoulder. I lightly press the tines onto your skin while grinding you and run it down your arm to your elbow. You flinch a little but it's not enough. I apply pressure going down your arm again, not to hurt you or to make you bleed, although you do feel a little pain. The pain is immediately countered with how soft and wet my pussy is all around you. I lift myself up and at the same time as the tines on the fork, I go back down on your dick as the tines press into you, so you're feeling the pain but at the same time the pleasure of me going down. That still doesn't show me what I want. I'm pushing you to grab hold of me anyway and show me what I'm doing to you.
I kiss you again, and tell you how much I missed you today, taking the tines of the fork now and placing it on your chest. I'm dragging it down the front of your chest, sliding you in and out while looking in your eyes. The fork reaches all the way down past your navel, and I'm so wet and so close again. Wet because you're so stiff and wet because you're letting me do this. I'm watching for signs that you feel the fork. I put the fork in my mouth and lick the tines the same way I lick your dick sometimes before you put it in me. Going faster on you now, I press the fork harder just holding it in place now, so close to cumming because I know that must feel even a little painful, but you're holding up so well. I want you to feel that wet inside of me, and know that it was me thinking of you that brought us here. I like watching what your skin does around the tines as it moves along at my guidance. I like the hungry look in your eyes. I'm about to cum at imagining what that feels like to you, trying to place myself in your skin, feeling the tines drag, and my pussy tighten, and I see it then. I reached the place in you I wanted to be. You feel me about to cum and in one quick motion, you grab my ass with both hands and lift me up holding onto me and....
In that split second, when your walls start that telltale flutter around me, when your breath hitches into little broken gasps, when your eyes go glassy and unfocused because you're right there on the edge, I feel it snap.
The last thread of restraint.
My hands finally, fucking finally, clamp onto your ass like it's the only solid thing left in the world. Fingers dig in hard, bruising, possessive. I lift you clean off my lap in one brutal motion, your thighs still wrapped around me, your pussy still gripping the head of my cock like it doesn't want to let go. The fork clatters to the floor again, forgotten, useless now.
I stand. Fast. The chair tips backward and crashes against the cabinets with a loud crack, but I don't care. Food's cold anyway. World could be on fire. Doesn't matter.
I spin us, your back slams against the kitchen counter, hard enough to rattle the plates still sitting there. Your legs lock tighter around my waist on instinct. I don't give you time to adjust. I drive back in deep, punishing, all the way to the root in one thrust that punches the air out of both of us.
"Fuck, beautiful monster," My voice is shredded, barely recognizable. "You wanted to see me break? There. You got it."
I don't hold back anymore.
I fuck you like I'm trying to crawl inside your skin the way you've been crawling into mine all night. Hips snapping hard, relentless, each thrust lifting your ass off the counter, making the edge dig into your lower back. Your nails rake down my shoulders, leaving red trails I know I'll feel tomorrow. Good. I want the marks. I want proof you were here, that you pushed me this far.
Your head falls back, throat exposed. I latch onto it teeth first, then tongue, sucking hard enough to bruise while I pound deeper. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the kitchen, louder than the music still looping low in the background. Your pussy is soaked, dripping down my balls, coating my thighs, every slide easier, hotter, tighter.
"You think you're the only one who gets to play?" I growl against your neck. "You think I didn't spend all day imagining this? Imagining bending you over every surface in this house until you couldn't walk straight?"
One hand slides up to fist your hair, yanking your head back so I can see your face when you cum. The other stays locked on your ass, holding you exactly where I want you so I can grind against your clit with every brutal stroke.
"Come on, baby," I rasp, voice low and dangerous. "You wanted to feel me lose it? Feel it now. Cum all over this cock you tortured all fucking night."
Your walls clamp down, hard, rhythmic, milking, and that's it. You shatter. Head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream that turns into my name, over and over, broken and desperate. Your whole body seizes, thighs trembling, pussy pulsing so tight it drags me right to the edge with you.
I don't fight it.
I bury my face in your neck, teeth sinking into the soft spot below your ear, and I cum hard, deep, flooding you with every pent-up pulse I've been holding back. Thick ropes spill inside you, leaking out around my cock with every slowing thrust until we're both slick and shaking. My hips jerk once, twice more, milking the last of it before I finally still, buried to the hilt, breathing like I've run a marathon.
For a long moment, we just stay like that, panting, sweat-slick, hearts hammering against each other. Your legs are still locked around me; my arms are still crushing you to my chest like I'll never let go.
I pull back just enough to meet your eyes, blue on blue, wrecked and soft now.
"You got what you needed?" I murmur, voice hoarse.
You nod, small, sated smile curving your lips. "Did you?"
I kiss you slow this time, tender. No rush. No game. Just us.
"Yeah," I whisper against your mouth. "I did."
I ease you down onto the counter, gentle now, still inside you because neither of us is ready to break the connection yet. My hands slide up your back, soothing the red marks the edge left.
"Dinner's probably ruined," you say, laughing quietly.
I grin, tired, satisfied, a little feral still.
"Then we'll eat it cold. Or order pizza. Or fuck again. Your call, wicked star."
You tug me down for another kiss, lazy, lingering.
"Again," you decide.
I laugh low in my throat, already hardening inside you.
"Good answer."
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