As I walk down the hall headed to my home office, steaming mug of coffee in hand, I can't help but do a double-take as I pass by the open door of our bedroom. There on the bed is a sight I will never tire of seeing: you, on your stomach, your favorite sleep sweatshirt once again protecting you from the morning chill, but the rest of your spectacular body splayed out on for all to see. Ankles crossed, your legs kicking back and forth, your insouciant air on full display, as are the creamy white globes of your endlessly perfect ass, the one you love to flaunt at every opportunity.
And as well you should: even with a body built for sin like yours is, your ass stands out, and you know it. All of your shorts just a little too tight, all cut-offs just a little too short. Your panties? When you bother to wear them, always a thong, thin strip of fabric splitting you into equal handfuls of soft, pliant flesh and highlighting just how spectacular your southern curves really are. Whenever I watch other men ogle you, nine times out of ten, I know where their eyes are going to end up. Sure, they all start with your tits--let's face it, men always start at the chest--but invariably, it is your ass that really draws the stares, that makes that far-away look appear in men's eyes. And I know just where they're going when they drift off like that, and just what they're doing--to you.
Right now, the only stare that matters is mine. I really don't have time for this, and it isn't like I'm deprived and horny. I woke you up this morning with my fingers gently strumming your clit, slowly coaxing you out of your slumber and into my waiting arms, and as I kissed you deeply, your eyes had opened wide, allowing me to stare deeply into your steely grays as I plunged two fingers deep inside you, eliciting a gasp that I smothered with my kiss. An hour of languid lovemaking followed as I'd set my alarm to go off early to allow for that inevitability. It is unquestionably my favorite way to start the day.
So with the image of my hand tangled in your curls as I pulled your head back and plowed into you from behind still fresh in my mind, and your scent intentionally left to linger on my fingers, I should have had the willpower to walk on by. And I admit, I almost made it, a tiny flicker of a thought about how much work I had to do nearly won the battle. But what can I say? How is it a man known for imposing his will in almost any setting could have one giant weakness, one Achilles heel, or, of course, Achilles cock, to be accurate? I may never know the answer to that, but I knew with certainty that I could never resist the tableau laid out in front of me
"Remind me to have you start closing your door in the morning," I growl as I quickly close the gap to our four-poster bed, grasping your ankles and roughly spreading your legs apart, putting your clearly well-used and still slick slit on full display for me to drink in.
"And if I don't?" you smirk, glancing over your shoulder, just a hint of your tongue playfully sticking out for my benefit. With first one click, then another, as I lock your leg restraints in place, I whisper the answer I know you want more than any other.
"Let's find out."
