Coming home 1

She sighed as she walked through the front door, throwing her briefcase by the hall table. She smoothed her skirt, shrugged in her jacket, took a deep breath and turned to look into the lounge room.

He was sprawled on the couch in jeans and t-shirt, comfortable, had been watching television. He had glanced up when she entered and now he was looking at her, a half smile on his face, a question in his eyes. He knew better than to approach her without permission when she got home from work, so he waited.

She caught his eye, and held his gaze for several minutes, assessing her mood. Making up her mind, she called him.

“Here, now.”

He beamed at her and her heart skipped a beat. He lept off the couch and did a running slide to her across the hardwood floor, ending up on his knees at her feet. She laughed, leaning down to bring his chin up to her and kissed his mouth softly.

He immediately reached up for more of her kiss, his lips aggressively opening hers, his tongue in her mouth, tasting her. She felt his hands reaching for her, and before she could stop him, they were on her breasts, his fingers seeking out her nipples.

She pushed him backwards away from her. Her eyes flashed.

“Greedy slut,” she hissed.

She could see his hardening cock outlined against the front of his jeans, she grabbed a fistful of his hair. Her heart was racing, a combination of lust and steely disapproval making her head spin.

She leaned down and whispered, “What exactly was that?”

He breathed his apology into her ear, “Sorry, sorry Ma’am.”

She leaned away from him, holding his eyes with hers, keeping him still by his hair. She drank in the uncertainty in his eyes before she slapped his face, watching his eyes register the sting and the shock that always appeared, even when he saw it coming. She didn’t need to look to know it made his cock strain harder against his jeans. She took a deep breath, holding back a sound rising in her throat. She slapped him again, and god, his expression… she swore to herself that if she just kept doing it, this one thing, she would come just from watching him react. She slapped him again, he let out a soft moan.

She leaned down and rubbed her cheek gently against his warm reddening face, and imagined she could feel the sting against her skin.

She stalked into the lounge room, knowing he would follow. He crawled as quickly as he could after her. She flopped down on the couch and held her foot out to him. He kissed her black boot and let his lips brush her ankle before pulling it from her foot. She sighed with relief and offered her other foot where he repeated the ritual. He knelt back and waited for further instructions as she regarded him.

“Strip.”

He quickly pulled his t-shirt off over his head. His pants were more difficult given he was kneeling, but he had done this many times and was quickly nude, kneeling, waiting.

She lifted one foot up to his shoulder, her skirt riding up her thighs. He stared directly and unashamedly at her crotch, his mouth slightly open, breathing deeply to take in her scent as she widened her legs. She applied pressure with her foot to the side of his face, and he followed the pressure sideways until his cheek was against the floor, her foot holding his head down.

“On your back,” she whispered.

He rolled over onto his back, and she rubbed her foot from his face, down his body, stroking his cock with it, applying pressure to his balls, then sliding it back up to his face. She stopped with her foot over his mouth.

“Lick it.”

He reached out his tongue and she felt him lapping at the arch of her foot. He held her ankle gently with both hands and brought every inch of her foot to his mouth, straining to reach her toes to suck them, to taste her. When she was satisfied, she offered her other foot for his attention. She relaxed back against the couch, letting the day go.

…continued here Coming home 2