A Day’s End — as told from Her Point of View
One of my many fictional writings.
Gosh, what a day.
I‘m tired. Work sucks. I let the door slam behind me and lean against it, eyes shut. I open them after a few seconds and look around to see him smiling at me over a book from my favorite chair – large, sturdy enough to plop on and comfy enough to make plopping worth it.
“Ugh. Tired.” Can’t frown at him. I smile. “I’m glad you’re here. How are things with you?”
“Hmmm…” Now I’m grinning. He always does that – like it requires thought, doing a quick checksum of the day before replying. “All right.”
I drop down my purse, take off the coat, and throw it on the couch. Stand on one foot and then the other to take off my heels.
Nice. I’m back on solid ground. They’re nice shoes, though, so I set them carefully on the floor before stretching. The tension’s slowly leaving, taking some of the tiredness with it.
I wander across the room to him and lean over, bracing myself on the arms of the chair looking directly in his eyes. Don’t want to throw my back out.
He looks up from his book again. “Yes?”
“I miss you when I’m gone.” I’m sure my eyes have a noticeable gleam.
His smile is deeper now. He puts the book down. “I miss you too.” He leans forward and gives me a quick kiss. “I made spaghetti sauce. Want some now? I just need to cook up some noodles.”
I start kissing him on the temples, by his eyes, on his cheek. “Nah.”
“Mmm…” he says.
My back won’t go out in one second. I let go of the chair and pull up the sides of my skirt enough that I can kneel on top of him, my legs on either side.
“Yes?” he asks playfully, a bemused smile on his face.
“Do you mind?”
His smile is wide now. His hand moves to cup my cheek for a moment. “No.”
“Okay”. I kiss him, quickly, then pull back and giggle. He’s giggling too. I lean forward again and we begin kissing.
No rush. How many different ways could we enjoy a kiss?
Our hands start exploring, lightly, then hugging tight. His hands on my back slip under my sweater, then around to the front, feeling my breasts through my bra. I unbutton his shirt. My hands and mouth play with his chest, his hands move to my rear, then down my legs. Using one hand to play with one of his nipples, I lick the other, beginning to suck. His “mmmm” sounds good, his arms move to hold me tight. I feel him kissing my hair as I move to the other nipple, my hands moving to his buttocks.
“Hey”, he says, “my turn”. He lifts up my sweater, I take it off. He kisses my breasts above my bra, through the lace. I stroke his back and kiss him on the mouth.
His hand reaches the bottom of my skirt, slips under, then moves up the side. I feel it stop at the stocking top. A finger slips under the stocking, moves over to the garter.
“Garter belt?” He’s surprised. I’m smiling. Gotcha! I kiss his forehead. “Mmm-hmm”.
His hands move up, exploring my legs as if he’s never felt a pair before, his mouth on my breasts. I’m too busy feeling to do much, but I won’t let go of him either, my hands stroking his back and shoulders.
His hands move higher. He’s still. I can feel his hands on my bare vulva. I open my eyes, looking at him.
It isn’t really a question.
I smile. I begin kissing him lightly. “You mind?” My devilish grin flashes a message of its own. He seems taken back and at a loss for words. “Umm…” Then, “No. I don’t mind.” Was there any doubt about the answer I would get? I kiss him quickly. “Good.”
Another kiss, longer this time.
He moves his hips forward, his hands on my buttocks pulling me down against him. “Here?” he asks. I pull my skirt out of the way and begin rubbing myself against his erection through his jeans. “Mm-hmm”, I say. “Oh”, he answers. He tries to sound surprised.
We both know he had no intentions of moving.
We continue to hold each other, kissing and hugging, moving in rhythm. His jeans feel rough on my legs. Eventually I unzip them, and he pulls his jeans and shorts out of the way.
I feel him entering me, inside me, continuing the rhythm we had begun earlier, feeling it build. I push myself further down wanting more of him; he arches back, pushing further into me. I start clenching and unclenching him with my vagina, gripping him tighter, then relaxing.
“God…” he says, pulling me closer. I hear his breath in my ear, feel him moving under me. “Ohh…” I groan.
“Orgasm” is such a pale word for what we experience.
Afterward he moves over a little, so I sit beside him.
I don’t want to move.
I don’t want him to move.
Unless, of course, it’s to start over…