After a day of chores and mourning Roe, I asked my new husband if he wanted to see a photo exhibit in the city last night to brighten our spirits.
I’ve been out of commission due to a little health thing, and I knew his balls were swollen, so I wanted to look cute and get him worked up while we were out. I switched to a bouncy little skirt, put on red lip stain, and took off the bra under the spongy little v-neck top I’d worn all day. When he saw me, he told me how hot I looked and grabbed me by the hips. I knew he wanted to bend me over the kitchen table, but we had timed tickets! So out the door we went.
We arrived to the stunning old New York museum around 7pm. The exhibit was a moody, violent, subversive, sexy. The lighting was minimal and designed dark pockets all over the space. Once or twice, I approached him from behind and reached around to tug on his the thigh of his shorts, knowing the fabric was pressing his dick, moaning quietly just for him before walking away. He pressed me against the wall for a hard kiss in one of the stairwells. The topless self-portraits of women confronting objectification were the perfect extra stimulation.