Friday Afternoon (6 page)

I stand in front of him in a black satin bustier, with garters and thigh-high stockings. No panties, no hair.

I watch his eyes as he begins his inspection at my bare shoulders, taking me in and raising the temperature of the room with his scorching contemplation of my body in the new lingerie. His eyes continue roaming south, and as he finally fixes his gaze on the triangle between my legs, his eyes widen.

Suddenly, Levi jumps up from his seat and lunges at me, hooking an arm around my waist and sweeping the other arm to rid the table of the plates containing the remains of our lunch. Half land on the floor. I’m stunned. I gasp and begin to step back from him, but in a flash he has me bent over the table with my cheek to the wood and a massive hand on my back, holding me in place there. He smoothes his hand over the bared flesh and then releases a groan.

The sound of his hands working his belt and the fly of his pants are the only warnings I receive before he plunges his cock into me.

“Fuck yeah,” he says, flattening me against the table again with the weight of his body, through the hand on my back. I expect him to go hard and fast, but he doesn’t. He slows to a snail’s pace. Almost immediately, he starts going for my ass.

“Quit!” I shriek, trying to wave my arms behind me so he’ll remove his hand.

“No. I’m taking that ass,” he hisses. “You need to get used to the idea because I’m doing it, and I’m doing it soon.”

“Fuck,” I wail as he penetrates my rear entry with his finger. “Levi, I–”

“Shush!” He swats me.

I suck in an indignant breath. “I–”

“I mean it,” he growls. “Shush!” He punctuates his words with another swat and then wraps that arm around me, finding my clit. “So soft. Baby, you’re killin’ me.” He groans.

His fingers are slick with my juices and glide tenderly over my bare lips and clit.

He’s working both holes for real now, and after the initial discomfort, what he’s doing to my ass doesn’t bother me anymore. A few seconds later, he grunts his approval of my acquiescence. He’s such a fucking caveman when his dick is out.

The movement of both hands and the slow penetration of his cock is coordinated. He’s playing me like an instrument. It’s a slow melody, speeding up as time progresses.

The relaxed fucking becomes full out rutting after he finally pulls his finger out of my ass.

He leans over me, pressing heavily on my back with his chest. His mouth is close to my ear. “Soon,” he rasps. His weight is heavy on top of me. He knows that’s the way I like it, and it’s exactly what I need. I sink into the sense of safety and belonging I feel when he covers me with his body. Overpowering me with his weight, I’m trapped there while he has complete control over me and the intimacy I feel because of it turns me on. My inner muscles clamp down on his cock as he pistons into me at a frenzied pace.

“Do you like being my own personal slut, Mia?” His tone is dangerous, menacing. He slams into me and grabs a handful of hair, pulling it, raising my head off the table.

“Fuck yeah,” I say just as much to answer the question as voice my approval of his mastery over my clit and the pounding of his dick. Damn, the touch of his fingers feels better with his rough command, getting me hotter than ever before. I’m poised at the edge of my climax, imagining the erotic picture we’re making.

“Levi!” I come hard and loud, wailing, moaning through the climax forced upon me by the expert cooperation of his hand and his dick. Seconds later he follows. His hot release spreads inside me like warm honey with every pump of his hips. He doesn’t stop the pump and fondle, and my orgasm continues, on and on, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I convulse and jerk until, eventually, he stops coercing the pleasure from inside me. A moment later, he lifts me in his arms and takes me to our bed, sliding in beside me. It takes several minutes for us to gain our bearings, for our breathing to slow.

“Damn, woman, when I saw you bare down there. I almost came in my pants.”

I don’t know how to reply because I know I’m not a “looker” down there, so I stay silent.

He turns his head, takes one look at me and says, “Okay, there’s something wrong. What is it?”

“I’m perfectly aware mine is not pretty.”

He scowls at me like I’ve insulted him or something. “What are you talking about? I love your pussy.”

I give him my best Yeah-right look. “The skin is all dark and doesn’t look–it’s…”

He leans over me until his lips hover close, an inch maybe two over mine. “First of all, let me say, this is my pussy.” He cups my bare mound and caresses it. “And I like the dark skin of
my
pussy.” My stomach spins like a top because when he says it he’s looking directly into my eyes. We’re inches apart, and there’s nothing but honesty in his gaze. He finally closes the gap between us to press his lips against mine.

He eventually breaks the kiss and lies back. “And if you knew what an ugly pussy looked like, you wouldn’t be so hard on yours. I’ve seen pictures of women who literally have dangling pussy lips, like meat curtains.” He makes a hand motion. “Just hanging there.”

I laugh. “Oh my God, Levi. You always know the right thing to say.”

“It’s the truth.
Mine
is small and cute. I love it,” he announces loudly, as if he was shouting to the world.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I think I prefer pale and pink, in both nipples and pussy.” I force myself to say the word pussy, even though I’m not terribly comfortable doing so.

His head snaps around. He gapes at me. “Shit, woman, I think that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said.”

I slap him on the shoulder and we lie silent for a few moments.

“Maybe the meat curtains come with age, you know, from gravity, like with boobs and balls,” I say with a snicker. “I can’t picture either one of us hanging low like that. It’s probably a good thing. It can be frightening to dwell on what awaits you in your future.”

“Let’s make a deal,” he says. “I’ll still love you if you have meat curtains, if you still love me when I have dangling old-man balls. Deal?”

“Deal. But if you ever wear Speedos with those dangling balls, all bets are off.”

“What’s wrong, baby? You don’t want all the other old biddies getting a glimpse of my marble bag?”

“That’s my marble bag,” I say, reaching over to cup his junk.

He pulls me closer and slings an arm and leg over me, absently brushing the pads of his fingers over newly bare skin down there. He hasn’t stopped touching it since the first moment he laid eyes on “his” pussy. I smile to myself and give a silent thank-you to Jess.

“One of these days, our pubes are going to turn gray, well, your pubes, ’cause I think I’m going to stay bare. You might have to shave them at some point ‘cause it would kind of bum me out that
my
balls have gray pubes. It will be like I’m blowing an old guy.” I say.

“You will be blowing an old guy, and you’ll like it.”

“I wonder if anybody has ever colored their hair down there to make themselves look younger.”

“I’m sure somebody somewhere has done it.” He laughs. “If you ever do it, I prefer purple, ’kay?”

“Okay. Either bare skin or purple, got it.” I sigh. “Getting older sucks.”

He shrugs. I think he’s still digesting the mental picture of purple pubic hair because his mind seems far away.

I wonder to myself if my pussy will get loose and lax as I turn into an old lady, if my inside muscles will do the equivalent of old-lady flappy triceps and waddle neck.

I snort out loud at the thought of it.

He turns his head, waiting to hear what I’m snorting about.

“Oh God, no. I’m not sharing this thought.” I shake my head.

He glares at me, looking more and more imperious by the second. I don’t know exactly how he does it, but he takes sudden command of the room, the air, me. It feels like he gets bigger and I get smaller. I can’t resist giving in to him when he’s this man, the one of few words and too much presence.

“Okayyy, I’ll tell you. Jeez.” I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. For some reason I hesitate revealing insecurity. It’s an instinct, I think. It’s something we all do to protect our soft, sensitive insides. “Do you think my va-jay-jay muscles will be different when I get older? Like looser or something?”

He howls. “Your va-what-what?” His laughter eventually simmers to a happy, toothy expression. In a sliver of a moment, I realize I don’t need to protect myself from him. He’ll make a joke, for sure, but revealing who I am inside is part of this journey we’re on together.

“It’s a word!” I defend my word choice and feel the slight pink of embarrassment tinting my cheeks. “I might have to tie a board across your ass so you don’t fall in while you’re fucking me,” I say to open the door to what’s already forming on his lips.

“Mental note,” he says with an evil grin “Work on gigantic vagina jokes.” His mischievous gaze meets mine, and I slap him. “Watch it, little girl.” He wags his finger at me. “I got one.” He smiles big. “Your vagina is so big it has graffiti in it.” He guffaws like a big goat while I glare at him. “No. No.” He waves his hands around up in the air. “Your vagina is so big…” He pauses for dramatic effect “…it has its own McDonald’s.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe that’s the reason why old men are so grouchy.” He turns onto his side and props his head up with his hand, looking down at my face. “Grandma’s giving it up but fucking her is like dropping a worm into a bucket.”

“God, I hope not.” We laugh together for a few moments.

By the time the room falls quiet, the mood within it has changed. My husband’s glittering brown gaze moves over my face and stop at my lips. “I love you, Mia,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

He leans in, placing the softest kisses on my lips.

I’m full. My heart overflows with feelings of love for this man like I haven’t felt in years. I see the same reflecting back at me in his eyes.

He lies back down and caresses his palm over my belly so lightly it’s almost ticklish. I glance at the bedside clock. “The girls will be home from school soon.” I start to get up.

Levi pulls me back down to him and wraps an arm around my waist, tucking me close. “Five more minutes,” he whispers.

Levi

In the weeks that follow our first Friday afternoon, the cold winter shows signs of leaving, and the early crocuses pop up through the snow. The six days separating our clandestine encounters grow more and more agonizingly long. Soon, our Friday afternoon fucks multiply, bursting out from the confines of Friday and peppering the rest of the week with quick, silent outbreaks of sex. It’s never as good as our illicit encounters on Fridays, though.

The long week since last Friday has me on edge and ready to blow. I get to the house first, as usual, and bypass the lunch prep. I have no patience for that today. I strip down until the only thing I’m wearing is a hard-on and the evil smile spreading across my face.

Early in our marriage, when I couldn’t get enough of Mia, if I wanted her, I took her. When my dick was up and her guard was down, I’d pounce, taking her by surprise and then taking her on the floor in whatever room we happened to be in. It’s been over a decade since I’ve done that, and today, I’m going to rectify the long lapse.

I wait in the family room for only a minute or two before I hear the garage door opening.

When Mia walks into the house, I descend on her before she even gets the opportunity to see me coming. Grabbing her wrist, I jerk her toward me and then spin her so she’s facing away. From behind, I grab each side of her button down blouse and rip it open. Buttons fly and she makes a sound of outrage at yet another blouse’s destruction. With a flick of my fingers, the bra is unhooked and yanked down her arms. I push her forward into the door she just entered through. Her left cheek and her bare breasts are flat against it, pinned there by my eager body. I lean in and whisper, “Hands flat on the door above your head.”