Friday Afternoon

by Sylvia Ryan

  I can’t take any more. My cock is demanding, and I’m inclined to listen. I withdraw my fingers completely and stand, turning her to face me. Her cheeks are pink, and her eyes are bright. I stand and flatten her against the door with my body. It takes less than a second for my cock to invade her pussy. A benefit of being with the same woman for so long, there’s no fumbling. With repetition, a man gets to know a woman’s body as if she is an extension of himself.

  I pound into her, slamming her body over and over again against the door. Her legs are wrapped around me and her ass fits perfectly in my hands. I watch her tits bob with each thrust and I can’t hold on any longer. I fucking bust the nut that’s been growing to epic proportions over the past couple of days. It’s over in minutes.

  She looks at me, waiting to see if I’m going to finish her off.

  I shake my head and smile at her. “No orgasm for you today, babe.”

  A cloud drifts over her face, changing the flush of passion to petulance. “Why not?”

  I growl at her in response. She picks her clothes up from the floor, looking so disappointed I’m close to giving her what she wants. But I know I have to stick to my plan.

  “Oh, and Mia?”

  She turns, looks over her shoulder at me and snaps, “Yes?”

  “No masturbating without my permission. Understand?”

  Her stare throws daggers as she nods and begins dressing again. “What kind of disturbing plan do you have cooked up in that brain of yours, husband?”

  “Soon enough. You’ll know soon enough.”

  That night, as Mia’s getting ready for bed, I call her over to me. “Take your panties off.”

  She looks at me with wide eyes. “Now?”

  “Do it.”

  She slides her panties down her legs. I pat my lap. “Come on, belly first.” Mia’s face turns crimson and she hesitates, looking at me like I’m crazy. I lift my eyebrows, silently asking her if hesitating is the best choice. A second later, she’s belly down and ass up on my lap. I lube my fingers like I did earlier in the day, and penetrate and stretch her again.

  “I think you just want to look at my ass.”

  “It is an exquisite ass.”

  “Not too big?”

  I chuckle. “Don’t worry, babe. If your ass ever starts making my dick look small, I’ll let you know, okay?”

  She snorts as if to say, “Like that’s ever going to happen.”

  My cock is hard underneath her as I stare at her bare cunt and untried ass. I can’t help myself, I run my free hand over her pussy lips. So soft. Shit. This week is going to be as hard on me as it’s going to be on her. I groan out loud.

  After about five minutes. I withdraw my fingers and pat her cheek. “Okay, up!”

  Mia groans. “I’m going to kill you for this.”

  On Thursday night, after nearly a week of putting her over my knee and working the tight muscles of her rear, I am near insanity, and I’m sure she is, too.

  I smile. Tomorrow is going to be heaven.

  Adding an extra stop to the XXX store before I stop for the food, I buy the instrument of Mia’s final demise. The butt plug I choose is the perfect size to finish off her preparation for the real thing.

  The same old man rings me out. By now, there’s familiarity between us, and I can only imagine what he must be thinking about this progressively kinkier array of items I buy every week.

  I talk with my brother on the way home and make the mistake of mentioning I’m on my way to meet Mia for one of our Friday-afternoon dates.

  “You’re still doing that?”

  “Yeah and man, you should try it with Gina. Putting in the effort to reconnect has resurrected our marriage. It’s been fucking phenomenal.”

  “If you say so, bro.” He’s being sarcastic, mocking me for the effort I’m making to make my marriage better.

  “I don’t fucking need your sarcasm,” I bite out. “My wife’s offering anything I want. When’s the last time Gina had your cum in her mouth?” Now it’s my turn to laugh. “That shut your ass up didn’t it?” He doesn’t answer. “Listen, I’m pulling into the driveway now. I got to go.” I disconnect before he says goodbye. I have more important things to focus my attention on than my jealous brother.

  Today is the day.

  I arrive home first, like always, and spread out the food.

  I haven’t been this excited about anything in a long time. I feel like it’s Christmas, and I’m finally getting what I’ve longed for.

  When Mia gets home, she radiates emotions on the positive end of the spectrum from anticipation to eagerness. I curl my finger at her, giving her the direction to come. She walks toward me in her usual work attire, skirt, blouse, and now on Fridays, fuck-me shoes.

  “Panties off,” I say.

  She raises her eyebrows. “No lunch today?”

  “Yes, we’ll eat, but first,” I hold up the butt plug in one hand and lube in the other. She takes an unconscious step backward as her eyes focus on the items.

  “Come on, babe. We’ll go slow and easy.” I offer my hand and after only a few seconds hesitation, she takes it.

  I pull her into me so our bodies brush against each other and place a soft kiss on her lips.

  “Panties,” I say again.

  Seconds later, she’s kicking them free from her fuck-me shoes.

  “Lift your skirt, then bend over the counter.” When Mia assumes the position, with her beautiful little ass peeking out from the drape of the full skirt she’s wearing. I puff up with my own ego. I’m her master. She belongs to me, submits to me. I own her. The thoughts riffling through my head are completely outrageous, Dark Ages shit. Yet it’s what I feel, who I am again after all these years.

  I lube her ass and the plug slowly while she stands as directed. To me, the sliding in of the plug seems like a hallowed occasion. Her squirm and moan just adds to the power I feel. My cock is hard, ready, and the control I lock down on myself becomes absolutely mandatory as I’m a second away from pulling the rubber plug out and sliding my cock in.

  “Okay,” I say once it’s fully seated inside her. “Now, lunch.”

  Mia looks at me over her shoulder. Her eyes glitter with angst, her body language screams timid, unsure words at me.

  “It’s going to be good, Mia. You trust me don’t you?”

  She nods.

  I wash my hands and join her at the table. Once I get a glass of wine in her, she’ll settle and we’ll be able to make our usual prefuck connection, joining our minds before we join our bodies.

  As we near the end of the meal, she fidgets and looks nervous again.

  “Go to the bedroom and get undressed. I’ll be in shortly.” I smile the kindest smile I can muster hoping to ease her anxiety before she leaves the room.

  In the solitary moments that follow, I sit in the chair at the head of the table and force myself to settle down. She’ll like this as long as I go slowly. Then I laugh at myself. I’m treating this like it’s a big life event or some shit. Top three events of my life…marriage, kids and ass fucking my wife. I’m like a six-year-old on his way to Disneyland.

  I’m a man on a mission when I walk into the bedroom. Mia’s completely naked and lying on her stomach. The base of the plug peeks out between her cheeks and I release a groan at the sight of it.

  I pull the Butterfly out of the toy drawer. “Stand up.”

  She sees what’s in my hand and smiles. The first one I’ve seen from her since she arrived home. She assumes the position for me to strap on the clit stimulator and, when it’s in place, I turn it on low.

  “Go on back to the bed. On your back.”

  She complies. I tuck a few pillows under her rear and I position myself between the legs she’s spreading wide for me.

  Her gaze appears worried, as she watches me generously apply lube to my hard as a rock dick. I’m compelled to ease the apprehension. I lean over her so our faces are inches apart. “Babe, I would never hurt you.”
r />   “I know.” She smiles and looks up at me with love written all over her face.

  I whisper sweet encouragements into her ear as I dislodge the plug from her ass. She releases a soft whimper and then a little longer one when I press the slicked-up head of my cock to the little rosette hole that’s gotten so much of a workout this week. With the slightest in and out motions, I enter slowly, never taking my gaze from her face. The advance and retreat of my cock is so infinitesimal there’s little stress and strain on her.

  I, however, am so keyed up I’m about to stroke out. When the head pops in fully, I still and wait for the muscles in her face to slacken, for her lids to lower a bit. They do. As I expected, she’s right there with me, trusting me and giving to me everything I want like she has every single meeting since we started.

  It’s the most patient I’ve ever been with a woman. Shit, it may be the most patient I’ve been ever.

  The process takes many minutes, but by the time I’m all in, Mia’s moaning. The Butterfly is hitting her just right, and now I can thrust more vigorously. She’s caught up. Her eyes are closed, and she’s lifting her behind to meet my thrusts. My heart clenches at the sight of her. Her arms are still flung over her head, framing the cascade of wavy, dark hair.

  The nearer she gets to orgasm the tighter she clamps down on my cock. I’m at the point where she’s got me in a grip so tight, I’m dying from the pleasure. I give in to temptation and pound the last thrusts into her. My cock detonates in her narrow clutch.

  “Fuck!” I yell as her orgasm overtakes her. I know she’s coming because her ass cinches down so tight on my cock it feels like she’s going to snap it in half. Every swimmer I have is being wrung out of me. I fall forward, resting my forehead on her sternum. My cock jumps one last time before I pull out and turn off the Butterfly.

  “I’ll be right back.” My legs are wet noodles as I walk to the bathroom to get a washrag and then return, collapsing next to her on the bed.

  I’m near sleep, with Mia in my arms when she says, “We can’t let ourselves fall asleep. The girls will be home in half-an-hour.

  I hold her as close to me as possible. “You okay?” I know she is but I feel compelled to ask anyway.

  She sighs. “Better than okay. Life is perfect here with you,” she says with shining eyes and pink cheeks.

  I can’t reply. I agree with her to the depths of my being. My throat constricts and I know if I say a word, my voice will betray me to the point of embarrassment.

  “I’m so glad we found each other,” she says, looking out into space as if she were in another time or place. She smiles.

  “What?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Come on.” I poke her with a finger.

  “Okay, well, when we first met, I wasn’t sure about your name. I have this odd way of–” She shakes her head. “Forget it.”

  “No, tell me.” I begin to attempt tickle torture.

  “Stop! Okay, Jeez.” She’s giggling. “I think it’s possible to determine by a person’s name whether they’re a good fucker or a bad fucker. You know…” She wrinkles her forehead “It’s kind of like stripper names. Here, I’ll give you a name and you’ll know immediately if it’s a stripper name or a non-stripper name. I’ll start with an easy one. Candi with an i.”

  “Stripper name.”

  “Good.”

  “Amy?”

  “Non-stripper name?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ahh, okay. So what are the good fucker names and bad fucker names?”

  “Well, any man who goes with the y version of their name, like Timmy, Davey and Joey? All bad fucker names.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. They just are.”

  “Okay, what about good fucker names?”

  “Good fucker names are ones that sound like the man’s hung well and a good fucker, like Hank, Dylan or Jack.”

  “So you mean to tell me if my mom would have named me Larry instead of Levi–”

  “I probably wouldn’t have even gone out on a date with you.” She giggles.

  “You are insane.”

  “Come on. Don’t tell me you would’ve brought a girl named Bambi home to meet your mother.”

  She has a point.

  Mia

  I’ve made sure to make it home before Levi this Friday afternoon. It’s the last one before the girls are off school for the summer. The weather is warm and I can’t wait to get the Adirondack chairs looking out over the lake again. The grass is vivid green due to all the spring rain we received this year. It’s probably too early, but I’m hoping to hear the familiar concerto from the bullfrogs making the shores of our large lake home.

  I lug the last chair from storage and drag it down the slope toward the lake. They sit side by side on the wooden platform anchoring the dock. I settle into one of the chair’s slight recline and a great sense of renewal washes over me.

  This time of year holds a special place in my heart. It’s a time of planning and possibilities. It brings with it a sense of anticipation for all the special moments sure to come this summer. I know, eventually, those memories will become treasured keepsakes that sustain me in my old age.

  But more important than even that, our summers contain all the makings of an idyllic childhood for my girls. I hope they look back on these summers and draw on them to perpetuate a sense of wellbeing to the next generation.

  These are the good old days. I’m living them right now, and they’re fucking fantastic. I’ve never felt so much joy before. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to even imagine what it feels like to have these feelings bubble out of me. Now, I simmer and fizz through my days. When I take time to reflect upon the life I’ve built for myself, my inner self sings a song of triumph.

  The sense of peace and happiness is so consuming that occasionally trepidation skips through me, tamping down the good feelings with a dose of reality. Sometimes, it feels too good to be true, and I’m fully cognizant of the fact it won’t remain this way forever. One thing in life that’s guaranteed is change.

  I don’t want anything to change–ever.

  I lean back and look up at the powder-blue sky, feel the sunlight kiss my face and appreciate the precious right now of my life. I inhale a few deep breaths, trying to release my tension from the workweek and from what’s coming.

  I’m nervous about the plan I’ve cooked up. Snickering to myself, I recognize this has the potential to morph my life into a bad I Love Lucy episode, but I have to take action.

  I was affected by the fucking I got last week, and even though he didn’t restrain me for it, I can’t stop thinking about how I would have felt if he had. We’ve been doing a lot of bondage, and I love it. But before we continue down this road, I feel like Levi needs to know what it feels like to be tied up, to give up all control over your own body and have to trust someone won’t make you say your safe word.

  I need him to know.

  My eyes refocus on the landscape as I hear Levi’s loafers combing through the long grass. Turning to look over my shoulder, our gazes meet.

  “Hi, beautiful.” He smiles at me as he closes the gap between us.

  I manage to get out, “Hi, handsome,” right before the soft pillows of his lips touch mine. His kiss is forceful. He’s in full-on fucking mode. I feel it in his smoldering perusal of my body as he reaches down a hand to pull me out of the chair.

  The next kiss is even more demanding than the first as his palm cups the nape of my neck, controlling the length of the kiss.

  When our lips part, I wrap my arms around him and rest my cheek on his chest. Our hands trail warm caresses up and down each other’s backs and then, well, I think I’m getting nervous about my plan.

  I don’t know what I’m thinking. Actually, I’m not, I guess. I’m feeling so many different things inside myself, the giddy girl I once was emerges. I run my fingers firmly up and down the seam of his suit pants. They’re loose enough on him
that I get pretty far into his ass crack. I know he doesn’t like it but I’m doing it anyway. And then, while simultaneously pressing my fingers into the area of his asshole, I blurt out, “So how do you like it?” His spine straightens.

  He steps away and puts his hands on my shoulders. “You picked the wrong day to start acting bratty.”

  I should quit while I’m ahead. I’m not sure what comes over me, the summer sun, the willies in my stomach, whatever. It doesn’t matter. I stick my tongue out at him and give him my brattiest attitude. “You have to catch me first.” I turn and run toward the house, giggling and squealing like a toddler. At first, I don’t hear anything behind me, but then I do. The deep thunk of Levi’s footfalls follow me on the lush grass. I sprint through the back door of the house. It slows me down and he almost catches me there, but I manage to twist away and get a few steps in front of him. I’m all out sprinting down the hall to our bedroom and I hear the smack from the soles of his shoes against the hardwood floor. Closer, and then closer still.

  He rushes in the bedroom door, but I’m standing behind it, out of view. He’s lost me, and looks around quickly, searching. By the time his head turns enough that I’m in his line of sight, the handcuff is already snapped around his wrist. The other end of it is attached to the bedpost. His gaze meets mine, and then he looks down at his wrist.

  “What are you doing, brat?” His eyes blaze.

  “I thought it was time for you to fully understand what it’s like to be utterly relieved of control over your own body.”

  “Let me go.” He says calmly but with authority. His Dom voice. I snicker.

  “I’m swooning at your power and control.” I dramatically place my forearm over my forehead, tossing my head back. Then I force my features to turn hard as stone and I cast him my most icy glare. “Take your clothes off, Levi.”

  He stands there, unmoving. He’s thinking. I see the split-second flashes of thoughts tumbling through his mind. I’m capable of reading him as easily as he reads me. Little stays hidden after so many years of marriage.