Thomas Cleans His Plate

The doorbell rang and I didn't answer it. Soon there was a knock and I heard the doorknob turn and a cautious "Hello?"

I stayed at my post, knowing he'd be crossing into view. I didn't look up, didn't say anything when he stopped in the doorway and took off his tie.

I tilted my head, lifted my ass and kept at it. I wished that I could see what he did: My back to him wearing a black corset and stockings, dangerously high heels and yellow latex gloves.

I kept washing the dishes.

I heard the faint noises of clothes coming off and then he was behind me, slipping his hands around to my front and leaning forward, putting his face next to mine.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, it's the strangest thing! I suddenly had an irresistible urge to wash dishes. Really, I can't explain it," I feigned, never looking away from my sink.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the fantasy I mentioned to you the other day, would it?"

"Why, Thomas, do you mean the fantasy wherein you happen upon me as I'm washing dishes and then you fuck me in my kitchen?"

"That's the one," he whispered, his cock pressing against my ass, his hands traveling my body.

"I believe that may be it," I said, washing the last of the pans, "I'm glad we figured that out." I was a little breathless by then as he was running his fingers over my ass and thighs and up to my neck.

He kissed my neck and held me by my hair. I finished the pan and wiped down the counters. He allowed me to work and then spun me around to his mouth, pressing me against the counter, his hands planted on either side of my face.

A hand reached down to touch my pussy. His mouth on mine, he sighed at my wetness. He dropped to his knees, spreading my lips and teasing my clit with his tongue. I braced myself on the counter, leaning backwards onto my elbows and pushing my pelvis up.

I enjoy watching him between my legs. He is so earnest.

Thomas stood and kissed me with his pussyfresh lips. As I licked my taste from them, my tongue dancing over and between them, I felt his cock pulsing between us. I looked down. Fully erect, it stood vertically pressed back against his stomach.

He took me by the back of the neck and pushed me toward the table. My new kitchen table. He pulled off the tablecloth, dropped it to the floor and bent me over.

I fought the urge to pick up the cloth and fold it.

Thomas picked me up, set me down and fucked me on my table. It didn't flail or falter; not even the squeak of legs on the linoleum.

I wrapped my ankles behind his neck and watched as his cock slid inside me and out, thinking, "If my leg slips I could really injure him with one of these shoes."

My sacrum was starting to hurt. I put my hands, palms down, underneath my ass and slung my knees over his shoulders.

"Press down low on my tummy," I whispered, knowing how close I was to being very, very satisfied.

With his four fingers he pressed toward my pubic bone. On his next stroke his cock hit its mark and I gasped.

He looked up, a little worried, to see if I was okay.

"Do you feel your cock rubbing against your fingers?"

"Yeah . . . And the muscle between them. Fuck."

"Keep doing that."

Once I'd come, he helped me off the table while my legs were still trembling and I squatted in front of him in my heels to suck pussy juice off the condom.

We moved into the living room and I stepped out of the shoes.

He fucked me bent over the back of the futon.

He made a pretzel of my legs and torso and fucked me sitting on the futon.

While fucking me from behind, lying face down on the floor Thomas's breathing changed. He pumped faster and punctuated each stroke with a little grunt.

"Come on my face," I said, pulling away and sitting up.

Thomas tugged off the condom, jerked and spurted on my upturned face as I sat on my knees in front of him. When he'd finished, I sat smiling with his semen on my cheeks, eyes closed.

He kneeled down and cleaned every drop with his tongue.

"Madeline, I love . . . fucking you," he said, barely audibly.

I sensed for a millisecond that the "love" could have been followed by "you," and I got a little bristle in the small of my back.

"I always have so much fun when we get together," I said.

Then, "When the fuck did you start swallowing?"

"You like it when I swallow my own cum?"

"Duh."