Monday's Tights & A Husband's Gaze

It had been a truly brutal day at the office, a relentless assault of deadlines and demanding clients. It was a Monday, and the weight of it all pressed down on me like a lead blanket. My hubby, Mike, called just as I was about to clock out, his voice brimming with that infuriating cheerfulness that always seemed to mock my misery. “It’s a Monday!” I snapped, a little too sharply, as he cheerfully inquired about my day. He, predictably, ignored my sarcasm, stating with a smug grin, “I like those tights you wore this morning.” Those diamond-patterned, burgundy pencil skirt and t-strap heels? They were a small, desperate attempt to inject some glamour into my otherwise drab existence. Mike always had an eye for a subtle, classy “naughty librarian” look, and honestly, the tights had been a last-minute impulse purchase from a vintage shop, but the pattern had really caught my attention. He noticing them, despite my best efforts to maintain a professional facade, did manage to elicit a small tingle of anticipation. Before hanging up, he leaned closer, his voice a low, husky rumble, “You have something waiting for you when you get home tonight.” That single sentence hung in the air, a delicious promise that sent a shiver down my spine. It certainly gave me something to ponder as I navigated the crowded sidewalks on my way home, my thoughts consumed by the tantalizing mystery he’d left behind.

As I pulled into the driveway, I spotted him standing on the porch, a playful smirk dancing on his lips and the familiar, slightly stern look in his eyes that always sent a jolt of electricity through me. He took my hand without a word, his grip firm and possessive, and led me through the house, his touch igniting a fire within me. The bedroom was immaculate, bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun. Two plush pillows lay stacked neatly on the bed, and he guided me to them, still dressed in his tailored suit, creating an unexpected yet enticing contrast. The positioning placed my bottom up high, right where he wanted it, and I couldn't help but smile, my face pressed against the cool cotton of the bed sheet. Mike caressed my lower back and bottom a bit before beginning to spank me lightly over my skirt, a slow, deliberate rhythm that built anticipation within me. I squirmed a little, a mischievous glint in my eyes, and he ordered me to hold still while easing my skirt up, leaving nothing but the intricate diamond pattern of the tights protecting my skin. The spanking intensified, the light taps evolving into a more insistent rhythm, accompanied by a low moan escaping my lips. The sensation was exquisite, both painful and pleasurable, as the wooden bath brush against my sensitive backside sent waves of heat through my body. I arched my back, pushing my bottom up to meet his hand, desperate to prolong the experience. The bed shifted slightly as he picked up the wooden bath brush, lying beside me, and a thrill shot through my veins. The first "whack" landed squarely on my sensitive backside, and I let out a choked moan, the heat intensifying with each subsequent impact. He continued to paddle me firmly, but playfully, scolding me for being a grumpy girl on this particular Monday. I could hear his breathing becoming ragged with pleasure as he scolded, the scent of his cologne filling the air around me. Suddenly, he ripped open the fabric of the tights, exposing my bare bottom to the cool air, and I gasped, my senses overwhelmed by the unexpected sensation. Oh, that man was so incredibly hot; the exposure sent shivers racing across my skin. I wanted him, needed him, and couldn't stand the delicious torture of waiting.

“Oh please…please Mike!” I begged, arching my back further and pushing my now exposed bottom up as high as I could, my legs spreading slightly for his eager hand. The satisfying crack of the wooden bath brush against my bare skin unleashed a torrent of moans, each one a desperate plea for more. “Please…” I moaned, and Mike teased, “Pleasewhat, babe?” I sassily snarked, “Oh you…you’recuuute.” “WHACK!” the bath brush sizzled against my bottom, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through me. “Please…what?!” demanded my husband's sexy, stern voice, laced with a hint of amusement. I pleaded in my sweetest voice, “Please…please fuck me, babe. Please?? Please fuck me hard!” The anticipation was almost unbearable.

I felt his fingers firmly, slowly slide up against the inside of my still silky tight-covered thigh, sliding up past the torn fabric and ripping it a little further open to expose me further, before delving into my hot, wetness, as he brought the bath brush down again at the same time on my upturned bottom. I cried out in ecstasy, begging, pleading, rolling onto my knees and opening my legs as far as I could for my husband. The rhythmic pounding of the wooden bath brush against my sensitive skin created an inferno of sensation, igniting every nerve ending in my body. I moaned with desperate abandon, lost in the moment, completely surrendering to his touch. Finally, I heard rustling and felt movement behind me, and he firmly gripped my hips, pulling me closer until his throbbing cock slammed deep into me. The world dissolved into a blur of sensation, a symphony of pleasure and pain. I cried out over and over, rocking my throbbing, hot bottom back to meet each of his hard, deep thrusts, my body writhing with ecstasy. We both exploded into a fireworks display of climax, completely spent and breathless, clinging to each other in a tangled heap. Mike tumbled down on the bed next to me and wrapped me in his strong arms, ruffling my hair, both of us ecstatic and laughing together. He rubbed my warm, tender bottom, and I giggled, feeling utterly content.

“So…” purred my handsome hubby in my ear, “How was your day, babe?”

I contentedly purred back, “Mmmm. It was a Monday. Anawesome Monday.”

He chuckled and whispered “Maybe we can have more Mondays like this one?” and I smiled, nodding against his chest. He added “But I guess we’re gonna have to replace those tights. Uh…oops.” and we both burst out laughing, the remnants of our shared ecstasy still clinging to us like a warm, lingering embrace. The thought of those diamond-patterned tights, now shredded and discarded, felt oddly liberating, a symbol of the delicious chaos we had just unleashed. The memory of that Monday, filled with both work-related stress and a surprising amount of passion, would undoubtedly be etched in my mind forever. It was a Monday, indeed, but it was also the beginning of something truly special.

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Monday's Tights & A Husband's Gaze

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