I spend the rest of the day aroused. I try not to think about John, or what happened in the kitchen, or what happened last night, but images and sensations keep popping up in my head.
I leave the house for a while to do some shopping, and forget half the things I came for, distracted by the warm sensation between my legs. What John did with that bottle stirred something in me, and I can’t quite function.
Mike has already prepared dinner when I get home, but I barely eat.
“Are you all right, honey?” He asks me gently, taking my hand. “You seem a bit… distracted?”
I blush, shaking my head. “I think I’m just hungover from yesterday. I barely slept at all.”
John nods. “Me neither, actually.” I blush even more, but Mike doesn’t seem to notice. He and John starts discussing some sort of railing for the new patio, and I start clearing away dinner. I accidentally brush John’s shoulder with my breast while clearing his dish, and I see him tense up. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s spent my day aroused?