Friday's First Taste

The alarm shrieked, a digital assault on my senses, ripping me from the last tendrils of sleep. It was Friday, a small victory in a week defined by relentless meetings and an all-consuming sense of urgency. Denise, my wife, stirred beside me, a soft moan escaping her lips as she shifted slightly. The scent of her lavender shampoo still lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of the sanctuary we’d created together. I reached over, silencing the insistent beeping, careful not to disturb her too much. “You can shut it off,” I murmured, my voice thick with sleep. “I’m taking today off. I need to unwind.”

She shifted further, her body relaxing into a more comfortable position. “You can,” she replied, her voice a low murmur. “I’m taking today off too. It’s been a brutal week, and I desperately need to escape.” There was a hint of jealousy in her tone, a familiar pang that always accompanied her extended days of leisure. I didn’t take many days off, clinging to my responsibilities like a lifeline. Still, seeing her free from the demands of work, bathed in the quiet solitude of our home, ignited a primal longing within me.

I slipped out of bed, moving with practiced silence, pulling on my work clothes as discreetly as possible. The bathroom was a refuge, a place to cleanse and prepare myself for the day ahead. I showered, the hot water washing away the lingering stress, followed by a close shave, the cool metal a welcome sensation against my skin. Dressing in my crisp, dark suit, I crossed back into the bedroom, whispering, “Talk to you later. I love you.”

Her response was minimal, a simple, almost dismissive, “Mm-hmm.” It wasn’t the effusive affirmation I craved, but it was enough to satisfy the immediate need for connection. I felt a twinge of disappointment, quickly suppressed by the anticipation of the day ahead. It promised to be a good one, a respite from the relentless grind. The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, and the afternoon stretched before me, ripe with possibility.

Around 11:15 AM, my phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. It was Denise. “So,” I said, a playful lilt in my voice, “you finally get out of bed?”

Her laughter filled the room, a bright, infectious sound. “If you would take days off like you should, you would know the feeling. But sleeping all day has made me hungry. You want to take me to lunch?”

The invitation hung in the air, a tantalizing suggestion of something more. A small part of me, the part that yearned for connection and intimacy, surged with excitement. I took a moment, savoring the anticipation, before responding. “Let me think about it for a moment, just to make you wait. A woman of leisure like yourself is willing to spend time with a working guy like me? I think I can squeeze in some time for you.”

Her laughter intensified. “I am honored by that. Come pick me up in 30 minutes. I will even dress up for the occasion.”

Thirty minutes. It felt like an eternity, yet simultaneously, the clock was ticking away, bringing me closer to the moment of desire. I finished my work, packing up my briefcase and mentally preparing myself for the afternoon ahead. The thought of seeing Denise, of feeling her presence beside me, fueled my every action.

As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed something amiss. The back entrance was slightly ajar, a silent invitation that set my pulse racing. I cautiously approached, my senses heightened, a strange mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within me. The kitchen was empty, save for a lingering scent of vanilla and something else, something more primal, more insistent.

Denise wasn't there.

“I am in the living room,” her voice echoed from behind me.

Turning, I found her exactly as I had imagined: sitting in the winged-back chair, her body stretched out horizontally, her legs casually swung over one armrest. Her freshly painted toenails flashed a vibrant red against the pale skin of her feet. She wore her favorite white pearl necklace, the pearls catching the sunlight streaming through the window, and a gray silk blouse, unbuttoned just enough to reveal the tantalizing curve of her breasts. The lace lining of her underwear provided a subtle, yet undeniably suggestive, glimpse of her form. The sight was a potent cocktail of desire and anticipation, sending a shiver down my spine.

She met my gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You know, I changed my mind,” she said, her voice a low, husky whisper. “I thought maybe we could eat in for lunch.”

The invitation hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises. It was a deviation from her original suggestion, a playful twist that only heightened my excitement. “I only have an hour for lunch,” I said, my voice carefully measured. “Do you think we can get much done in that short of a time?”

She leaned back into my arms, her body relaxing against my chest. “Just watch me,” she murmured, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

My hand reached out, gently grasping her waist, pulling her closer. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, a tangible expression of her arousal. “Let’s go,” I said, my voice low and intimate. “I’m starving.”

As we moved through the dining room, I couldn’t resist the urge to brush my fingers against her skin, tracing the delicate curve of her shoulder blades, feeling the warmth of her breath on my neck. The anticipation built with each step, a crescendo of desire that threatened to overwhelm me.

Entering the living room, I found Denise exactly as I had anticipated: poised, elegant, and utterly captivating. She was wearing a scarlet silk slip dress, the fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face in a halo of beauty. She had clearly put effort into her appearance, transforming herself into a vision of seductive allure.

She hooked her right forefinger around her pearls, holding them securely against her flesh. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. “You know, I changed my mind,” she repeated, her voice laced with amusement. “I thought maybe we could eat in for lunch.”

I walked over to her, pulling her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her neck. “I only have an hour for lunch,” I whispered, my voice thick with desire. “Do you think we can get much done in that short of a time?”

She leaned back into my embrace, her body trembling slightly. “Just watch me,” she breathed, her eyes locked on mine.

As I pulled her closer, my hands moved down her body, tracing the line of her spine, feeling the rise and fall of her breath. The air crackled with tension, charged with the electricity of our shared desire. My gaze traveled down her form, taking in every detail, savoring the exquisite beauty of her body.

My attention then shifted to her legs, her thighs pressed against the chair’s armrest. I slowly, deliberately, unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the pale expanse of her breasts. The lace of her underwear peeked out from beneath, a tantalizing invitation that I couldn’t resist.

As she watched me, her body tensed, her breathing becoming more rapid. She had clearly been waiting for this moment, anticipating my every move. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a delicious torment that pushed me to the edge of my senses.

I continued my descent, slowly unzipping her dress, revealing the smooth curve of her waist. The scent of her perfume intensified, a heady mix of vanilla and musk that filled the room. As she watched, I reached down and unbuckled her belt, pulling it off my hips. Finally, I unzipped her pants, letting them fall to the floor, exposing her completely. The sight was both shocking and exhilarating, a primal release of pent-up desire.

I was wearing boxers that day, a simple garment that served only to accentuate the full, magnificent display of my own body. Denise sighed, a soft, contented sound, as she took in my naked form. She then placed her hands on her panties, slowly sliding them down her legs to the floor, kicking them aside.

With a final, lingering glance, she stepped out of the chair, her movements graceful and deliberate. She pulled me up onto the bed, her arms wrapping around my waist. As we lay there, our bodies intertwined, our eyes locked, I knew that this was just the beginning. This was the start of something truly special, a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure that would linger long after the afternoon was over.

Mom sex stories

Friday's First Taste

Did you like this story? Friday's First Taste look, but like these, here Mom sex stories.