Author: Checkandstripes

‘How many times have we watched this film!? I wonder out loud.

Another rerun, this time we’ve got the sound down, this is the routine now. A quiet afternoon to end the weekend, preparing ourselves for the five day stretch of eat, sleep, work repeat.

You jump off the sofa ‘stay there a minute’ you say skipping off behind me to the bedroom, bathroom wherever.

The rain’s coming down, and it’s heavy, battering the windows. So dark I reach across and switch the table lamp on. It’s too early to draw the curtains and the room is now reflected in the floor to ceiling windows. Beats looking at the weather that’s for sure, I catch sight of myself on the sofa, a four seater for two people, go figure.

Returning my uninterested gaze to the television, I hear a door open and then close, and sense you’re coming back into the room, bare feet padding on the laminate floor. I’m sure you were wearing socks before. You’re in a dressing gown, of course, it’s not too warm and your way of signalling a concession to the day. No more to do or an unwillingness to do it. Read more »

We’re hungry, which is why I’m currently in the kitchen preparing food, you sat on the worktop, legs swinging playfully, glass of wine in hand. I ask about your day, only half listening to the reply, concentrating not only on what I’m doing – sharp knife in hand- but also preoccupied slightly with the way your summer dress is riding up above your knees, light floral fabric bunching and rucked, bare tanned legs underneath.

Putting the knife down and picking up my own glass, I refocus. This isn’t the easiest meal to prepare and I’m suddenly flustered by the sight of your legs opening ever so slightly, underwear showing, the dark green panties I like so much because of the way they look against your skin. The subtle lace trim.

It would be far too easy to give in to temptation, and I’m determined to act the gentleman. Anyway, that little flash is probably accidental, I mean, we do have to eat at some point this evening.

Reluctantly turning my back on you, I move to the sink, more easy going chit chat. As I continue with the dinner I can hear you shifting about. You’re clearly relaxed here and the thought brings a smile to my face. it is to my mind a picture of domestic bliss. And I’m glad. Read more »

Sleeping on my front pays off

Waking up, I can feel the bulge between my legs, urgent, can sense the veins standing proud against the soft cotton bedsheet. I turn and lie on my hip, the tip of my cock now touching the mattress.

Quick check between my legs, and yes. My balls are heavy and pulled close. So I gently thrust feeling the friction against me. My mind wanders.

…Neither of us has been awake for long, me naked, you in black panties and vest top. As always we lay there for a few minutes, looking at each other, assessing the mood. Then the deep kisses, me taking in the dishevelled hair and lack of make up – my favourite look on you. The intertwining of tongues, and as you turn your back, I pull you close.

The effects of the previous nights play still lingers along with the scent of your sex, the delicious tang, a giveaway that you’re getting wet already which arouses me further. Your backside pressing close to me ‘somebody’s awake’ you say drowsily. A typical understatement. My morning hard on vigorous. Read more »

She’s waiting outside the church, it’s a dry, sunny day, slight breeze. Looking around, surrounded by friends and strangers in equal measure, her shoulder length blonde hair is whipped by the wind, and across her eyes. She brushes it aside, those fingers, tapered and delicate. The very same she used to grasp his cock before jerking it hard and sucking on it. The same she used to fuck herself while on the phone to her lover, before licking her taste from them.

As the weather allowed it, she’s wearing a summer dress. Big floral print, bright but not gaudy. She doesn’t go in for making a show of herself in public. Understated, classy. That’s how she wants to be seen. He knows she’s not wearing a bra underneath, the fabric brushing against her nipples. The small breasts she’s always been so conscious off. That he could never convince her otherwise about. Read more »

On the edge of waking, I sense the familiar feeling, I’ve started a stretch without even realising.

In the still sleepy warmth I run a hand down from my chest over my stomach, to grasp at the hardening between my legs – you have been in my head, your voice, your body, all of you – starting to replay your stories, I want to think about your mouth around me, hearing your fingers taking that exploratory feel inside yourself and coming out coated, the brushing of fabric as you pulled your panties to the side – the moan you made when you touched yourself will be in my head for days.

With eyes closed, and semi hard I stroke, slowly, insistently, starting at the base and stopping when my hand reaches the head. Thinking, thinking, thinking…black yoga pants, you on your back…..bending you over, licking you like that…..tapping on your clit with my now swollen glans….grabbing your hips and nudging you open as I slide inch by inch inside…oh my god it goes on and on.

So rigid with lust for you that it’s obscene at this hour, I make myself stop…and wait

We’re hungry, which is why I’m currently in the kitchen preparing food, you sat on the worktop, legs swinging playfully, glass of wine in hand. I ask about your day, only half listening to the reply, concentrating not only on what I’m doing – sharp knife in hand- but also preoccupied slightly with the way your summer dress is riding up above your knees, light floral fabric bunching and rucked, bare tanned legs underneath.

Putting the knife down and picking up my own glass, I refocus. This isn’t the easiest meal to prepare and I’m suddenly flustered by the sight of your legs opening ever so slightly, underwear showing, the dark green panties I like so much because of the way they look against your skin. The subtle lace trim.

It would be far too easy to give in to temptation, and I’m determined to act the gentleman. Anyway, that little flash is probably accidental, I mean, we do have to eat at some point this evening.

Reluctantly turning my back on you, I move to the sink, more easy going chit chat. As I continue with the dinner I can hear you shifting about. You’re clearly relaxed here and the thought brings a smile to my face. it is to my mind a picture of domestic bliss. And I’m glad. Read more »

Sunday, grey clouds grey day.

‘How many times have we watched this film!? I wonder out loud.

Another rerun, this time we’ve got the sound down, this is the routine now. A quiet afternoon to end the weekend, preparing ourselves for the five day stretch of eat, sleep, work repeat.

You jump off the sofa ‘stay there a minute’ you say skipping off behind me to the bedroom, bathroom wherever.

The rain’s coming down, and it’s heavy, battering the windows. So dark I reach across and switch the table lamp on. It’s too early to draw the curtains and the room is now reflected in the floor to ceiling windows. Beats looking at the weather that’s for sure, I catch sight of myself on the sofa, a four seater for two people, go figure.

Returning my uninterested gaze to the television, I hear a door open and then close, and sense you’re coming back into the room, bare feet padding on the laminate floor. I’m sure you were wearing socks before. You’re in a dressing gown, of course, it’s not too warm and your way of signalling a concession to the day. No more to do or an unwillingness to do it. Read more »

She’s waiting outside the church, it’s a dry, sunny day, slight breeze. Looking around, surrounded by friends and strangers in equal measure, her shoulder length blonde hair is whipped by the wind, and across her eyes. She brushes it aside, those fingers, tapered and delicate. The very same she used to grasp his cock before jerking it hard and sucking on it. The same she used to fuck herself while on the phone to her lover, before licking her taste from them.

As the weather allowed it, she’s wearing a summer dress. Big floral print, bright but not gaudy. She doesn’t go in for making a show of herself in public. Understated, classy. That’s how she wants to be seen. He knows she’s not wearing a bra underneath, the fabric brushing against her nipples. The small breasts she’s always been so conscious off. That he could never convince her otherwise about. Read more »

Sunday, grey clouds grey day.

‘How many times have we watched this film!? I wonder out loud.

Another rerun, this time we’ve got the sound down, this is the routine now. A quiet afternoon to end the weekend, preparing ourselves for the five day stretch of eat, sleep, work repeat.

You jump off the sofa ‘stay there a minute’ you say skipping off behind me to the bedroom, bathroom wherever.

The rain’s coming down, and it’s heavy, battering the windows. So dark I reach across and switch the table lamp on. It’s too early to draw the curtains and the room is now reflected in the floor to ceiling windows. Beats looking at the weather that’s for sure, I catch sight of myself on the sofa, a four seater for two people, go figure.

Returning my uninterested gaze to the television, I hear a door open and then close, and sense you’re coming back into the room, bare feet padding on the laminate floor. I’m sure you were wearing socks before. You’re in a dressing gown, of course, it’s not too warm and your way of signalling a concession to the day. No more to do or an unwillingness to do it. Read more »

I tried not to stare when you walked past me to your bike, the lycra jersey barely concealing the swell of your breasts, the zip three quarters of the way up…but when you had your back to me, your ass in those shorts, ohhh.

Sheened in sweat we’ve finished the ride, sitting close, I’m once again drawn to the vision of you. The feel good post exercise rush is beginning to show in my shorts, the outline of me on view. I bide my time, but it becomes too much and I make a move, my hand goes directly to the zip on your jersey and I pull it down slowly. A hand inside cupping your breast, a fingertip grazing the nipple. The sweat leaves it shiny, smooth and erect. It looks delicious so I take it between my lips, dancing my tongue over it, biting gently.

With my other hand I begin to pull down my bib shorts, fumbling slightly, looking at you as I do. You give a slight nod of agreement and they’re around my ankles, you can see how turned on I am and I step closer taking myself in hand as I do. Read more »