New Jeans - InkSpot.Com

About This Author

I am a 40 year old married mother of two teenage boys. I live for writing, especially romance. Love the happily ever after scenerio. The best thing about writing for me is the ability to lose yourself in your work, and feel as if you've accomplished something great. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters.

New Jeans

That cocky grin that irritates the hell out of you stays on my mug as I think about your hungry eyes raking over me when I step out into the open. You want me, I can tell and I’ve done my damnedest to keep from hauling you to me and ravaging you, but can’t hold back much longer.

Thinking of you and that smokin’ hot bod sends fire to my aching balls, my dick twitching, but constricted by the tight fabric you’ve picked out for me to wear. How I let you talk me into to being here, to wear jeans that I spent years scoffing at, I’ll never know.

“Well?” Your usual soft voice holds an edge of irritation as I linger in the dressing room, staring at my perfect Calvin Klein image in the mirror.

Your impatience brought you back here, your interest in me as more than a friend planted you outside the door, and your eagerness to feast those eyes on me in a pair of skintight denim would surely have you coming on to me yet again, and that was the problem. I’d been good over the last year, keeping the friendship and you at bay, but that thin line was about to break. I‘m a man, tired of the games, too old to be teased and can only take so much.

Alex rapped on the door, an audible sigh of frustration escaping those red cherry lips that I never had the pleasure of tasting, even though I’ve thought about it often.

Taking a deep breath, I release the latch on the door as Alex stumbles backward into the small room, colliding with my bare chest. Holding her by the upper arms, the feel of her soft skin plays with the nerve endings of my fingertips and before I know it, I am lost to the touch, my hands skimming down and back up again. With your back pressed into my chest and rounded ass snug against the front of these tight, and growing tighter, jeans, I’m near the point of no return.

I turn towards the mirror, wanting to see that look of appreciation on your face giving me enough of a push to take you here and now.

“Alex?”

You exhale, sinking closer into my body as my hands continue their slow track up and down the smooth silk. With your eyes are shut tight it is impossible for me to see what I crave as I wait for a sign, for you to say something, anything.

“Hmm,” you murmur.

That is not enough; my sexual appetite is raring to go and will not be put on hold any longer. Today I see the woman standing before me, who stood beside me for the last 365 days, the one who didn’t care what the rest of the world thought, only wanted to be with me.

Moving one hand from your arm over to a breast, I take a firm hold of it in the palm of my hand, cup it and run the pad of my thumb over the nipple as your eyes fly open and stare at me in the mirror. Watching you grind against me in the full-length mirror builds the intense fire that rages, your intoxicating baby blues eyes locked onto mine. I stroke your bud and the desire that I know so well floods your eyes. You want me, are mine for the taking and all I have to do is forget who you are.

Alex spins around, gazing up at me with raw passion and fastens those lips to mine like Velcro. It is all the permission I need before I take what I want. My tongue delves past your sweet lips, into the heated terrain of that succulent mouth and plunders in a heated frenzy of pent up sexual frustration. With your tits smashed into my chest, I go for your ass, and pull you hard against my throbbing cock. In one fluid movement, you break the kiss, rest your palms flat on my chest and shove me down onto the wooden plank that passes for a seat.

Your eyes stay on my package, lingering there while I wait for what seems like hours for you to make your move. Dropping to your knees, you reach for the button, tug it open, yank the zipper down and release my heat. Licking your lips, you grab my cock and hold it so tight I begin to slip off the bench. Your tongue circles the head of my dick, before your lips wrap around my shaft taking me down your throat slowly. My hands dig into your hair, holding you in my lap as your mouth sucks and strokes every inch, driving me to edge.

Your hand grabs my sac, pulling and stroking while that hot mouth devours me like a midnight feast for the taking. As your lips slide up to the tip, I feel your teeth nibbling, my sac heavier with every squeeze. The suction and manipulations of your hot mouth drawing the jizz out of me like a refreshing drink through a straw.

WC:857

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