Sexy Thoughts #11: Laying the Table…



We haven’t posted a ‘Sexy Thoughts’ post for a while, and I teased this on Twitter a little while back. In the mean time, I am working on getting some reviews up, so watch this space. In the mean time, enjoy this recount of one of the best Friday night’s ever!

The evening begun as most Friday evenings do; I’ve come home from work, ran a hot bath and spent far too much time stewing in a mixture of bath bomb, glitter and the days excesses. My husband is downstairs, working. This is the only unusual element to this Friday evening.

Once I am suitably shrivelled, I step out of the bath and towel myself dry. My skin sparkles under the light, whilst the soft, sweet scent of coconut and vanilla fills the air. As I reach down to pick up my evening attire; I noticed that in my haste to grab things from the drawer, I’d brought down a jock strap instead of my usual underwear.

At that moment, a plan formulated in my dirty brain. I slipped on my t-shirt, and then into my jock. I looked in the mirror; I generally don’t have a lot of self-confidence in myself, but my arse looks great framed by the soft elastic. I quietly went down the stairs. He was still sat at the table, busy tapping away on his laptop. His jeans were unbuttoned. Well if you are going to work from home, might as well be comfortable, right?

He hadn’t noticed me enter the room; so I pulled out the chair beside him got on my knees, so I was currently bent over the table – my arse on full display next to him. It took him a minute or two to register I was there; but as soon as he did, his hand came straight up and began to caress my warm cheeks.

I arched my back and leant down, my face pressing against the cool solid surface of the table. We had often said that the new dining table we had bought was the perfect height (and sturdiness) for some extracurricular activity. Perhaps tonight, we would finally put that theory to the test.

His hands squeezed my cheeks firmly, and every now and then, his finger would just graze my hole; softly. Each time, my cock twitched in the pouch of my underwear. I would let out a soft moan, to let him know he was doing the right thing. As I closed my eyes, his lips caressed each butt cheek, and his hands were now gliding over my back, before tugging on the waistband of my jock.

I decided it was time to move it up a gear, and I pushed his laptop out of the way, and slid across in front of him; I was now kneeling on the table, with my ass now at mouth level. He leant in, and I felt his warm tongue start to gently tease my now puckering hole. His hands continued to squeeze my cheeks firmly, and I now was shivering, my body was tingling and I wanted more. I climbed down, but was now lying flat on the table. He stood up, and I heard the unmistakeable sound of his jeans falling to the floor.

I gasped, as I felt his rock hard cock press against my sphincter. He slid the tip of his dick over my hole and between my cheeks. My own cock was now wet and throbbing, and bursting to get out of the fabric containing it. I pressed against him, grinding my butt against his cock, desperate to feel more. I leant up and turned to face him. I reached down and took his cock in my hand, gave it a little squeeze and then leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Hold it right there…” and I disappeared into the bathroom. The great thing about being a sex blogger is, there is usually lube knocking about close to hand. I came back, handed him the bottle, and then resumed position; face down on the table, with one leg raised on the seat of a chair, allowing full access to my butt. I shuddered as he dribbled a small amount of lube directly onto my hole. Damn, that’s cold… but I soon forgot, as his dick started to smooth the cold gel into my butt. He squeezed a little more onto his own dick, and then he slipped inside.

It’s been a while since anything has been up my ass; but I guess I was just so aroused; it slipped in without a second thought. He moaned deeply. “Oh fuck…” he whispered. His hands held onto my waist tightly, as he pulled back. “Oh that’s it…”. I bit my lip. Each thrust sent a shiver down my spine. I began to slowly stroke myself under the table.

I pushed myself deeper onto his cock; I wanted to feel him deep inside. I rocked back and forth, taking every inch whilst he tugged on the waistband of my jock, almost using it to leverage his thrusts. Soon the table was sliding across the floor, my face was getting sore from being pressed into the surface, but I didn’t care. I was completely lost in the moment. “Oh fuck… where do you want me to cum?”, he muttered breathlessly.

“On my arse. All over my hole…” I whispered, as I hastened the speed of my own strokes. “Cum all over me and then put it back in”. His breathing became deeper and more laboured. “I’m gonna cum…”. “Yeah?” I said, as I stopped stroking to hold my cheeks apart. “FUCK…” he said; as I felt the first warm jet of spunk hit my arsehole. He pressed against me, and slipped his twitching cock back into my arse. His thrusts were deep and I couldn’t hold it in much longer. One stroke of my own dick, and splashes of cum were hitting the floor.

I lay there for what felt like an eternity. I was thoroughly spent and my chest and stomach felt like it was bruised. But I didn’t care. “Well erm, I’ll get you a towel” he said, with a huge grin on his face. “Please do…” I said, as I lay there, face down with spunk dripping from my arse. “Well that’s only taken us, what? 2 years?” I said. “But at least I was right… the perfect height for a fuck”

The following Friday, the same thing happened again. And then the following, it was his turn. I came home from work to find him sprawled naked on the table. But that’s for another day. At least I can say, with certainty. This is my new favourite Friday night tradition.

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