Asha had been looking forward to the party for months, but by the time Steve lit the barbecue, she just wanted all their guests to leave so she could jump on him.
It wasn’t the summer sun making her smoulder in her favourite dress or the shimmering heat from the barbecue. It was the culmination of so many little things, each a droplet, that eventually formed a wave of lust that washed over her.
The easy way he laughed and conversed, his voice a rich, dark bass note made her heart thud.
The light in his eyes as he welcomed their guests at the door or told his favourite jokes. She’d heard them hundreds of times and could recite them all, but she never tired of that light or the wattage in his smile that came from the same overcharged battery of charisma.
The casual strength in each handshake, the easy grace in each hug, the deft skill of his hands as he poured drinks or flipped steaks.
And of course, there was his body, which she knew so well and which she had been aching for since the party started. His tight ass in those white pants that she’d insisted he wear, his strong chest and arms in his new shirt. As if to get her back for making him wear the pants he felt self-conscious in, Steve had unbuttoned his shirt down past his sternum. He knew that would make her hot, the devil. And by the time she saw he had undone the buttons, she was already in her dress, hem demurely calf-length, her buttons primly done to the top, and the first guests had arrived.
It was a good disguise, she had to admit, as the party wore on: she looked proper and modest on the outside, while inside was a completely different story—lustful thoughts in her head, a damp, aching need in her core. Truth be told, she felt naughty, dirty even. She had wondered if Steve might feel the same way, despite her conservative sartorial choice, and when he looked up at her after lighting their huge barbecue, she knew he did.
He smiled, and as always, it was electric. So were his eyes, of course, but the spark she saw was reserved just for her, she knew. The livewire of his lust crackled in his pupils as he gazed at her across the backyard patio, and for those few seconds, there was no one else there with them in the late summer afternoon. Asha felt a flush through her, and was grateful for the faint breeze coming off the lake. Without it, she would have worried she’d combust.
She might, anyway.
Good Lord, I want him, she thought. The heat was total, complete: centred in her pussy and radiating out all the way to her scalp, her toes, her fingertips.
And then someone called, “Hey, Master Chef!” Steve turned, and the moment was over. It hadn’t always been this way, where they had so little time alone. Early in their marriage, they had oodles of time together as they worked their way up their respective corporate ladders, spending every moment they weren’t working together, more often than not in bed. Or the shower. Or the sofa. Or the kitchen counter…
It was different now, Asha reflected as she watched Steve’s arm muscles ripple through the shimmering heat of the grill. And of course, that tantalising view of his chest. With success had come more and more networking and events like this barbecue.
The mental montage of their sexcapades as newlyweds wasn’t helping Asha cool off at all, and she decided to sneak off to the loo and relieve herself. It would only be a temporary measure—nothing but Steve’s solid cock would really satisfy—but it would be something. She excused herself and all but ran upstairs. Every step she took just reminded her how wet she was, how she had already dampened her black panties. Her erect nipples rubbed against the matching bra as she practically leaped up the stairs.
She shut and locked the door, pulled up her dress, and hopped onto the counter. Her fingers confirmed what she already knew, that her pussy was soaking, her panties sodden with her pent-up desire. She yanked the cloth aside and set upon her clit with two fingers immediately, and she groaned softly as soon as she made contact with that hard electric nub. The oxytocin and dopamine increased as her orgasm formed. This was not about arousal or lust. No, this was about dousing a fire.
So much sexual energy had built up over the course of the afternoon that it took only a few minutes for the dam to break, and Asha had to stifle a loud moan, and then a scream as her orgasm coursed through her and she writhed on the bathroom counter, overcome with euphoria. Finally somewhat relieved, she stood and put her panties in the dress back into position. She washed up and returned to the party, knowing it wouldn’t be long before she’d need to be properly satisfied.
The afternoon dragged on. And on. And Asha got hotter. And hotter. It didn’t help that Steve looked sexier as the evening progressed. His face was brighter, more energetic the more he talked to their guests. Once, she caught herself transfixed by the sinews and muscles in his forearm as he flipped steaks and sausages and daydreamed about him using those muscles to power his talented hands—kneading, squeezing, and even thrusting in her… she only stopped staring after a friend had to shout her name three times.
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And Asha could absolutely swear that those white pants were tighter on Steve’s ass than they had been that afternoon.
She was about to excuse herself to the washroom again when finally the last guests announced they would call it a night. Asha saw them out and came back to the yard to see Steve starting to load up dishes.
“Seriously?” she asked. “We’re going to do the dishes? After we’ve been giving each other the lusty eyes all day?”
“I just thought…”
She cut him off with a sudden, deep, and fierce kiss. His heat radiated not only from his warm lips, but from his whole body, as if he had been burning with the same intense desire as she had. Though, as far as she knew, Steve hadn’t ducked into the loo to douse his fire.
As she wrestled Steve’s tongue with her own, and her nerve endings crackled, she realised she’d barely bought her libido any time at all with her self-pleasure. She needed him now. Steve clearly felt the same, breaking the kiss, and turning her so the bulge in his pants was pressed firmly against her ass. Asha moaned as he kissed her neck, and she wiggled, trying to find that sweet spot between her thighs, despite the four layers of clothing between them. She giggled as his breath tickled her at her nape. He spun her back around, lifting her onto the table and pushed up her dress. Her giggles were replaced by a breathless moan as he kissed his way quickly up her thighs.
She wanted to let it happen, needed to let it happen…but it wouldn’t do, not out here, not when a neighbour might pop outside to investigate moans and sighs and grunts, not to mention the sound of skin slapping on skin, of deep sloppy kisses lapping at lips… and other places.
She ran a hand though his hair, then pushed him away gently.
“Indoors, my love. We don’t need to scandalise the neighbours.”
Without a word, Steve picked her up, hands under her ass and carried her inside. She could smell his cologne and his clean, warm skin with her head in the crook of his shoulder. And now his cock was pushing against her front rather than her rear, rubbing deliciously against her wet folds and hard clit. He set her down at the foot of the stairs that led to their bedroom and slid his hand up her dress. Cupping her vulva and rubbing the damp fabric of her panties over her pussy gave just the right kind of friction and she groaned. Steve kissed her passionately again, muffling her sighs as his lust focused into his lips and tongue, pushing and pressing into her, as if to devour her. The man really wasn’t making it easy for a woman worried about the prying ears and eyes of the neighbours.
“Upstairs, love, upstairs,” she managed through the lusty haze settling in her brain and making it hard to think of anything but Steve’s hand on her pussy. She tore herself away but made it only to the first landing before he was on her again, pinning her against the wall. Pushing up her dress, he pulled her panties aside and kneeled before her, his hot breath searing her thighs. Steve’s tongue darted and slid into her—roughly, urgently. He squeezed the globes of her ass teasing them apart to increase his access, so that he might taste every fold of her wet cunt.
She moaned as he licked and sucked, his feast her felicity. If she’d thought the cotton of her panties provided the perfect friction, she was wrong; nothing compared to the warm, strong muscle of his tongue, moving more forcefully, as if powered by her juices; the wetter she became, the faster it moved.
Then, it was gone. The next thing she knew, he had pushed into her with ease, his hard cock stretching her just the right amount, as always.
“Oh God,” he groaned into her ear as he grasped her hips and thrust, hours and hours of his own pent-up desire from the barbecue fuelling each lunge into her, the silky sheath of his steel member massaging the walls of her pussy. Had she thought his tongue provided the perfect friction? She was wrong again; it was his cock, every inch of it, stimulating the entire length of her canal, each thrust sending sparks through her.
“Oh God,” Asha moaned back, and bent over as far as she could, pulling his cock even deeper, so that he dragged at each ridge of her pussy wall with every thrust. Steve gamely kept going for a little longer, but then he withdrew and whispered, “I need to taste you again.” The words rang in her ears. Taste, taste, taste…yes, she needed to taste him too.
They only got to the second flight of stairs before she had to have him in her mouth. She pushed him against the wall and knelt down on the risers, and wrapped her lips around his shaft. Steve groaned as she licked gently up the underside, just the lightest touch to tease him, to send flutters through him the way he had sent them through her two flights down. She licked all over his member, as if to collect her own juices and his pre-cum and then flicked her tongue at the very tip, again teasing with light, quick touches.
But she didn’t torture him for long; neither had the patience for that. She put her hands on his thighs for leverage and began to blow him in earnest, sliding him out until just the tip remained in her hot wet mouth, and then plunging froward, until her lips met the very root of his cock. She nuzzled her nose into his pelvis, delighting in the pheromones there, making her dizzy with anticipation for him plunge into her pussy again.
The stairwell’s acoustics sent the sounds of their passion bouncing throughout the narrow passage: Steve’s grunts and Asha’s whimpers of pleasure the melody over the steady rhythm of wet, suckling sounds where his member met her mouth. She loved the sounds, she loved the feel, and oh, how she loved the taste, but she also needed to be filled again, somewhere where Steve’s cock could set her nerve endings on fire.
She looked up at him, licking her lips, and smiled. His eyes were still closed in concentration, so she stood and grabbed his hand, pulling him to where their bed awaited. Finally, finally, they had arrived. No guests, no neighbours, no stairs.
They undressed each other hurriedly, and she laid down, spread her knees, and pulled her legs back. He licked and lapped at her with even more passion than he had on the stairs; and he had more room between her thighs now that she was lying back, able to open herself up more fully so that he could make sure no millimetre of her pussy was neglected. She gripped his hands with her own as they gripped her ass, squeezing him, and then pulling gently toward her chest.
Steve didn’t need a more direct hint; he rose up and lined his cock up with her soaking entrance, then plunged in. She cried out and he grunted; he slid in and she raised her hips; he leaned forward to kiss one breast; she squeezed and lifted it toward his eager mouth. His lips were still glistening and wet with her juices as he nibbled gently at her nipples, then raised his head and put his hands on either side of her swaying body. Asha knew what was coming next, and then it did: he pounded her hard, as if to drive her back through the headboard. Each thrust of his hips was a forceful foreshock that rippled through her, sending shockwaves from her pussy through her whole body, finally escaping as heat through every flushed pore in her skin. It wouldn’t be long now before he made her cum, lying here on the San Andreas Fault, and their motion together was going to cause a rupture…
She gripped his head in her hands, probably too tight but she didn’t care, because the fault was slipping, the needle in her seismograph was drawing huge spikes, each one a jolt of pleasure rumbling through her, and the rumble they heard was her low, primal scream as she came, quivering and shaking.
She collapsed then, panting, and slowly came down, basking in pure contentment. This, this is what she had wanted, no needed, all day, since they’d got out of bed: to be alone. Alone with their lips and fingers and nipples and butts and their enflamed, needy loins. Alone with their sighs and moans and pants. Alone with their love and desire and carnal need.
Her quick pop to the loo was nothing, a mere amuse-bouche, compared to the feast Steve had prepared for her since the last guest finally left; appetizers on the stairs, the main course here on the bed, and for dessert…
Of course. Steve, the chef, the foodie, loved to smell and taste, and he was back between her thighs as soon as they stopped trembling, licking and lapping at her. She knew he would inhale the scent of her desire as he tongued her.
“Kobe beef, truffles, caviar, Jamón Ibérico, are fast food compared to you,” Steve had told her once early in their relationship, back when careers and networking hadn’t yet intruded so much on their intimate moments. “Might as well be pablum.”
They were in bed, Steve between her legs, using his talented hands on her wet slit. He could do so much with those hands, and not just in the kitchen—he kneaded her folds, squeezed her clit, rubbed, and stroked, massaged and pat her engorged lips—until she couldn’t take anymore and was pushing his head down, so that he could taste her, and she could explode on his tongue, which Steve was every bit as good with as his hands. He licked her through her orgasm, and when it finally subsided, he had lifted his head and smiled at her.
“You are the most succulent, delectable, delicious dish in the world,” he had said, and she had known he meant it: his eyes had that faraway look, a glassy ecstasy she only ever saw when he was in the kitchen or at the grill, finally satisfied he’d perfected a recipe. She had already been 99 per cent sure she would marry him; that night clinched it.
He certainly was perfect so far tonight, because as hard as he’d made her come, another orgasm was building as he licked and tasted her, savouring her before filling her again. That was part of Steve’s culinary genius: treating her to the delicious contrast between his soft tongue and hard cock.
He slid up her body, kissing her deeply, tasting her there too, and slid in to her, and yes, the contrast was so great, the hard, solid weight of his cock filling her, the perfect converse to the soft, light flicks of his tongue. He bucked his hips with abandon, chasing his own orgasm with a single-minded animal focus. He grunted as he thrusted, the slap of his flesh against hers loud in the bedroom.
“Oh God!” he yelled finally, and pulled out quickly. He knew how much she loved to feel his seed on her, the liquid manifestation of his desire for her, the culmination of his lust. And when he spurted on her ass and thighs, it sent her crashing over the edge as well, spasming even as his cock spasmed, his cum hot even on her flushed skin.
She sighed with each scalding drop, then rolled over to meet him as he slid up the bed, kissing him deeply as they recovered.
“Dinner was great, darling, but dessert was divine,” Asha said when they finally parted. Steve smiled.
“So good to be alone at last”
The End
Read all about the wonderful author: JK Mill
beautiful
pls fuck me mommy ahh~~