coming home

He takes hold of me almost as he walks through the front door, one arm reaching around my waist, the other about my shoulders and stroking the slope of my neck with his fingertips. He crones in my ear, a comforting burble, and i swallow his scent with hungry lungs, feeling myself shrink into a malleable space within his embrace.

"Come" he says, after a long moment of welcoming silence, and i follow him to the side of the sofa, where he presses my head to bend me at the waist, sinking over the broad leather back. My skirt follows, enveloping my head, dimming the light. I stretch out my arms and spine in a gesture of invocation, eyes shut, abandoning my lower body to him.

First he peels off my knickers; he is not perfunctory but it is with economy, for his purpose is not to tease me, or himself. He slaps me on my bared right cheek and i feel warmth blossom, my exposure suddenly vivid. Next his fingers, burrowing, and i shift my stance to open myself wider.

With hips resting on the furniture and face buried in the cushion, my toes lift from the floor and i am floating, suspended on the pivot of his two stiff fingers in my cunt. He pushes into me, hard, and i rock backwards to suck in the pressure, his arm pistoning into a fleshy hollow.

He holds me there, one hand on my waist while his other fist continues to stir between my parted legs and all the while i can feel the solid heat of his erection pressed to the bare back of my right thigh, the bold brand of his lust trapped within his suit, hotly threatening.