Between the Sheets

J* is home. He’s been gone for over a week, and today I saw him step out of a taxi, unlock the door, go into his house, throw his briefcase on the bed, and take off his pants. Why do guys do that - take off their pants like its the plague or something? I’m not complaining, though. As always, their curtains were pulled open, and I admired the view of J* in his baby blue boxer-briefs as unbuttoned his shirt and flung it on the chair.

The girl next door wasn’t home yet, but I slipped into my lace black bra and matching thong, threw a trench over it and, feeling a bit like a flasher, walked over and rand the doorbell. It took a few seconds for J* to answer (he was throwing on his pants, I assumed), but I waited patiently, feeling myself already start to moisten as I imagined J*’s tongue playing with my nipples again.

“What are you doing here?” J* asked, as he flung open the door. Ok, not quite the sexy hello I had imagined, but he hadn’t put his shirt back on, and he had obviously been somewhere warm because his torso was tanned to the color of rich honey, sweet enough to lick.

“Just came to welcome you home…”

“Oh, well thanks. My wife isn’t here…”

“Oh.” That’s the point, dumbass. I want to see what you’re like alone.

“Did you want to come in?”

“Sure.” Besides, I’m only wearing a thong and it’s the end of September. I’m literally freezing my ass off.

I wanted into his house and he asked if he could take my coat. I paused. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. My stomach was in a ball of knots, and I felt like a teen-aged virgin, so hungry for her first sexual experience and so worried that it wouldn’t be perfect. Do it, Rori. Just do it.

And I did it. I slid out of my trench, revealing my near-naked body below and I watching J*’s eyebrows raise slightly with surprise.

“Hun, I don’t think you understand…” he said, as I put my coat on the bench in their entryway. I stepped closer to him, and he moved back slightly.

“I’m quite sure that I do,” I replied, stepping toward him again. This time he stood his ground. I kissed him, biting his lower lip gently as I pulled away and circling his nipple with my finger. I understand that I had an itch, and he was the only one who could scratch it.

“My wife…” he breathed. “My wife and I only do…that…together. It’s against our rules. We just like to play together. We aren’t unfaithful…” I kissed him again, passionately, as I let my fingernails trail down his torso. This time he kissed back. His large hand rested on the small of my back and he began to allow this fingers to wander, playing with my thong, grabbing my ass. He was perfect, he was in control, and he was going to take me.

“I’m already wet for you,” I whispered. I couldn’t wait to take his cock deep inside of me once again.

“No,” he said, breaking from my lips and pulling away. “I can’t. I can’t do this. I love my wife. It’s just when we’re together. We don’t have secrets.”

I turned around, without saying a word, put on my coat, and walked out. My eyes burned with tears that I wouldn’t allow myself to cry, and, spirits hurt, I basically stomped over my own house. Who did he think he was? He could have sex with other women, but only when he wife was watching? That is the dumbest rule ever.

I retreated to my bedroom, wondering again why I was so freaking alone while little miss perfect next door had the perfect life. As I was closing the curtains, I notices that J* was back in the bedroom, unsettled, sitting on the bed. I felt terrible. Here I was, trying to seduce a married man who had been nothing but nice to me. Very, very nice. I was still wet, and grew eve more horny at the thought of the last time I had seen J*. I’ll give you a little reminder - it was when he and his wife were making me cum so hard that I blacked out.

Again in just his boxers, I watched as J*slid back to rest against the headboard, his hand resting on his lower torso. It slid lower, finding its way into his boxer-briefs as he closed his eyes. I watched as he stoked himself, and hoped he was thinking of me. I saw him bite his lower lip and circle his nipple with his free hand. He was thinking of me. J* had his own itch to scratch, and as he did, I watched, my own fingers trailed between my legs as well. J* may not be fucking me, but he was thinking about me, along in his house, wearing my perfect black bra and underwear.

We all have secrets, J*.

Edit from Aurora: I’ve moved! Cum visit me at Between My Sheets!