They didn’t flirt. They didn’t need to. They didn’t tease or pretend or dress up in uncomfortable clothes over awkward conversations in dimly lit spaces. Why would they? They knew each other, deeply, inside and out.
He rested his hand on the small of her back, lifted her hair and kissed her neck where her spine disappeared into her hairline. His other hand slipped around her waist and he pulled her into him.
She arched her back, her cheeks pressing against his crotch, her head resting on his shoulder, her own crotch willing his hand to go lower as her hand did just that and wrapped around his throbbing cock.
There was no preamble, no tiptoe, no falter. There was only him, and her, and the fact that they wanted each other.
She was still dressed. Jeans, t-shirt, an apron. She’d been cooking when he accosted her.
He had just gotten out of the shower. His towel was already on the floor as he undid her jeans and pulled the shirt and apron over head in one swift movement. He could be smooth if he needed to be.
She could be smooth too, she thought as she stumbled out of her jeans. He caught her deftly then fell over his own feet. Neither of them were very smooth. But they were both naked.
The kitchen floor worked in a pinch, especially when no one bothered to close the dining room curtains. Her legs lifted just as easily on the cold tile floor, his cock fit inside her just as tightly. In fact, the cold floor made her pinch ever so slightly. His groan of pleasure as he dipped deep inside her made her even wetter. And as she dug her nails into his bare back, her moans filled the room as well.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/wb7i3a/the_kitchen_floor_fm_married_30
A good description of long term partners.
If he’ll finish making dinner, I’ll take and suck and ride on the kitchen floor anytime, I’ll tell you that. I liked this one.
This was beautiful tbh, I love it