Flanno v2

We both like it when you get back from work.

Sometimes I wait to get you worked up; teasing you while cooking dinner with light touches, curling up beside you on the couch while we watch movies and purposefully brushing against you while twining myself against you, and other times I don't; sending you dirty texts while I wait, straddling you naked while you're playing COD, or coming up behind you in the kitchen and wrapping my arms around you tell you exactly how I want you to fuck me.

Or like now: waiting for you naked save for the stockings on my legs and my latest lingerie purchase.

I glance up at you from under my lashes as you walk through the door.

It's a Tuesday after 5, you've just finished work and are clad in the standard cargoes, boots and shirt you wear daily. Today however was cooler than usual, and you still have your new blue flanno buttoned up over your chest.

I love that flanno on you, especially the colour. Secretly, I think you love it too, considering you still won't let me steal it, even for a night.

Your eyes light up as you take in my almost naked body, raking your gaze over me as you toe off your boots by the door.

I smile slyly at you as I saunter over, asking how your day was.

Your eyes twinkle. Even if you've had a bad day, you know I can help you forget all about it, as I often have. I like to think that I can make your day a little better, a little brighter.

Your lips twitch, gaze softening as you tell me about your day. You pause, and I follow the way your hand rubs a spot at your neck.

You're sore I realise, slinking closer, my hand covering yours, concern on my face. Your thumb rubs my hand reassuringly and I kiss you.

Inhaling, I smell the woody fragrance of your favourite cologne. The scent drives me to pull you closer, kiss you harder, my hands curling around your shoulders and into your hair. Your arms wrap around my waist, one sneaking down to my ass and giving it a cheeky grab and slap.

Our lips are still touching as I take your bottom lip in between my teeth, looking into your eyes with a challenging glint. After a beat I release your lip, trailing kisses across your face, up your jawline to your earlobe.

In a sultry whisper I tell you that I have been ready and waiting for you for hours.

You inhale sharply. I smirk as I slide my hands to your shoulders then slowly begin unbuttoning your flanno, slipping it off your shoulders hearing it hit the floor.

It never takes us long to get into the mood and beyond caring where our clothes end up.

You drop your arms from around me to slide your shirt over your head and I fling it into the corner; your hands cup my face, deepening the kiss.

My hands hover just above your chest, eager to touch, caress and stroke the body I know so well. Wanting to make sure I can soothe away the soreness of your day.

The second my hands touch your chest, it's like setting off fireworks.

I hadn't realised until now but while so caught up in each other we've crossed the room to the kitchen, my ass is against the counter and you pick me up, setting me on it, my back pressing against the wall as I arch into you not wanting to lose the contact. My legs come up around your waist and it is only as I see the flash of khaki against the black of my stockings that I realise your pants are still on.

And neither of us cared.

I'd made you hungry - no, starving, even insatiable - for me.

I'd worked you into the headspace where I am yours, and yours alone.

You don't voice it out loud, but you tell me this through the way your lips ravage mine, your breaths erratic and needy against my mouth; the way your tongue slides against mine; the pressure you suck my lower lip with, almost bruising it and finally, -finally- as you dip your face to my me, kissing my sweet spot, the stubble of your chin tickling the sensitive skin of my neck.

Your hands are suddenly in my hair, running through blonde tresses and tilting my head back so that you have better access to my neck where you lick, bite and suck your way across the skin over some of my most sensitive spots.

I moan as you hit a particular one, gasping at others, scratching my nails down your back, desperate to get you closer, to have you in me, to make you rougher with me.

You slip each bra strap off my shoulder, as low as they will go then take both of my wrists in your left hand; using your right you unhook my bra, letting it fall forgotten to the ground. Your upper body holds mine in place, your chest crushed to mine, the fine hair tickling my nipples.

It is you who moans as my breasts bounce against you, our kisses getting harder, hotter, wilder as your right hand traces circles on my back.

You release my hands, stepping back slightly, lips red and panting. My legs slide from your hips and I tug at your pants, impatiently unhooking the belt, unfastening the buttons and zipper as we continue kissing hungrily, breaths heavy and gasping.

Your cargoes drop, undies following soon after and your dick springs free, brushing against my thigh, making the ache within me deepen.

It is hot, hard and I swear I can feel it throbbing.

I lick my lips, watching you, noticing again the way you rub at a certain spot on your neck. Worry creases my face, distracting me temporarily and I know that I cannot focus on us, on this, while you’re hurting.

"I want to take care of you," I whisper, trying to hold on to what little thread of self control I still have. "Let me take care of you, then we can do this."

You close your eyes, inhaling, trying to summon your willpower. I wait a beat before you open them, pushing off the counter and taking you by the hand, leading you to the bedroom.

Your eyes are still dark as I pull you to the bed and push you down onto your stomach, straddling your back.

I take the massage oil into my hands, rubbing them together to warm them before rubbing in Long strokes over your shoulder, back and legs to apply the oil.

I start at your head and shoulders; one hand tangled in your hair, kneading at your scalp, the other thumbs over the top of your left shoulder near your collarbone and I roll my thumb into it, relieving the tension.

I switch hands, working away on your right shoulder.

I trace the fingertips of the hand in your hair down your neck, joining my other hand and I karate chop across your shoulder blades, down your back to just above your butt, continuing the motion and relieving your sore, tired muscles.

I shift down, settling in between your legs, taking your left, then your right into my hands and kneading it alllll the way from the top of your thigh near your hip, down your thing, ankle and down to your feet. I massage the soles of your feet and toes, eliciting a moan from you.

I kiss my way back up your body, hands smoothing over your sides, repositioning myself in a straddle position over your upper thighs, leaning over, so close that my nipples and breasts graze your back.

You moan throatily; I pause, my mouth at your neck, my tongue darting out to lick and nibble at the skin, drawing another moan from you.

I take the oil between my hands again, warming it, before dragging first my fingers, then my breasts over your back down to your hips before repeating.

I slip my legs and body off to the edge of the bed and trace my fingers along your side, silently asking you to roll over, which you do.

You're on your back, I'm seated on the edge of the bed as I rotate myself around, freeing myself of my panties, straddling you juuuusssttt in front of your erection that I can feel it against my back and ass.

You're still clearly aroused; your eyes have darkened, breathing shallowed as you watch me almost predatorily as I take one nipple into my mouth. You moan as I flick my tongue across then tweak it before switching to the other. My other hand is resting on your shoulder, clenching at the muscle there to balance myself, before finding its way to your unoccupied nipple with a soft pull.

You moan, bucking slightly, your hands finding my hips and holding me there. I glance up at you between lidded eyes, still sucking away.

I ask between sucking if you're better, if I've helped, if the soreness of your neck has gone away, even for a little bit.

I feel, rather than see, your control snap; with a growl you tighten your hold on my hips, urging me up and onto your shaft.

You almost stop breathing as the tip of your dick touches my clit; I pull away from your chest, moving my hands to either side of your shoulders to stabilise myself as I sink down onto your dick.

We both moan at that; you at the tightness, the warmth; me at the full sensation of you sheathed inside me.

One of your hands, the one you smashed the mouse button with, finds its way to my cheek,resting there; I cover your hand with mine and turn it, kissing your palm. Your hand moves to my nipple as I ride you, grinding my hips into yours.

You move to prop yourself up for better access but I use my leverage on your shoulders to force you down, my mouth finding yours, your hips rising to meet mine with every thrust.

I moan into your mouth, licking your lower lip, my tongue clashing with yours. You pull away slightly pressing hard, open-mouthed kisses against my neck.

My hand curls into your hair, I whisper my need for more against your skin. You know me and my quirks well enough to know that just plain sex won't cut it this time.

.

You groan, spinning me around, forcing me onto my hands and knees before you. Your hand reaches around the front of me, rubbing at my sensitive clit, two fingers slipping in to the slick folds.

You seem pleased that I'm dripping wet for you, you tell me such, fingers pumping, pushing, curling against my g spot until I climax.

I cum for you with little more than a whimper.

You take the oil from me wordlessly, peppering kisses against my back as you lube my ass before pressing your dick between my ass cheeks.

We both moan as you enter me slowly, inch by inch; I push back into you wanting more, you're excruciatingly slow, your hard dick feels soooo good in my tight ass and I grow frustrated as you chuckle, a hand slapping the cheek of my ass, telling me to be patient.

But right now, oh GOD, rigt now, I just want you to fuck me.

However, you don't. You take your time with long, deep, measured strokes in and out, my ass clenching tightly around your dick each time you thrust in, hugging your length, feeling every glorious inch of you, making my mind go fuzzy with desire.

Then I moan and something in you snaps; harder, deeper, your thrusts hit me where I need it the most, balls slapping my ass, hands gripping almost bruisingly hard at my waist, keeping me in place for you.

I gasp out something vulgar between moans as you go a touch too hard and you laugh, slapping my ass cheek and thrusting harder, almost brutally. I hear your breathing, your grunts and gasps, but it is your moans and the way you tell me how beautiful I am, how naughty i am and how much you love being inside me that makes me whimper with pleasure underneath you.

I feel weak, knees trembling as my orgasm rocks me, ripping through me with wave after wave of pleasure.

I feel you tense, gripping my hips harder and I know there will be bruising later on, I feel your dick swell, hot ropes of cum coating the inside of my ass as you release.

After a minute you catch your breath, your hands softening their hold on my hips to run up my sides gently. You're still inside me as I struggle to catch my own breath and it is a phenomenal feeling. It never ceases to amaze me how much I love the feel of you, every conceivable inch of you, both within and against me.

A soft sigh escapes my lips as you trail yours over my shoulders and back up my neck. You slowly pull out of me, wrapping your arms around my middle and falling back first to the bed, bringing me with you.

I close my eyes and lean into you, snuggling against your side, my legs twining with yours and you reposition your arm around my shoulders, the side of my face against your chest, your lips grazing my forehead, then my cheek.

-x-

Later that night when we’re finally forced out of bed by growling stomachs and spent limbs, I lean against the kitchen counter, eyeing the flanno where it lies draped on the floor.

You’re in the kitchen, waiting for the pasta to cook and, turning, catch the movement, a chuckle slipping from your lips as you ask me if all of that was over just a flanno.

I run a hand over the blue flannel as I pick it (and my bra!) up, a smile on my lips.

The thing is...You could be wearing anything, or even nothing, not just a flanno and I’d still want you. The way you hold me, kiss me, lavish attention on me - THAT - is what makes me crave you, not some scrap of fabric.

But for now I’ll let you think it’s just the flanno.