Counting to Ten, A Family Game

The nursery rhyme, “This old man,” always felt a little strange to me, especially when sung with a knowing smile. It wasn’t the lyrics themselves, silly as they were, but the way my husband, David, would choose to deliver them. Tonight, after our son, Leo, drifted off to sleep, he’d started humming the tune, a low rumble in his chest that seemed to vibrate right through me. He came to sit beside me on the bed, pulling me close until my body pressed against his. His hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with my own. As he began to sing the first verse, a slow, deliberate cadence, he brought his lips to my thumb, a gentle, insistent sucking that sent shivers crawling across my skin. The words, "This old man, he’s gonna give you his bone," hung in the air, charged with an unspoken promise. As he moved on to "give the dog a bone," he shifted my hand, placing it directly onto his erect member. It was already hard, taut and throbbing with anticipation, and I felt a delicious, unsettling moisture gathering within me. My body began to respond, a slow burn igniting beneath my skin.

He shifted his focus to my feet, swiftly removing my slippers with a casual grace. The cool air against my skin was a welcome sensation, a prelude to the pleasure that was building. Then, he started licking my toes, a slow, deliberate exploration that sent waves of heat radiating through my legs. The anticipation ratcheted up, each lick a tiny spark igniting the tinder of my desire. It felt like a countdown, each touch bringing me closer to the precipice of ecstasy. As the song progressed, the rhythm of his touch became more insistent, more demanding. He moved his hand up my calves, massaging my knees with lingering kisses, each touch sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. The scent of his arousal mingled with my own, creating a heady, intoxicating aroma. I continued to rub his “bone” with my toes, a primal urge taking over as my body responded to his advance. It felt like it was growing longer, thicker, and more sensitive, responding perfectly to my touch.

He slid his hands further up my legs, pulling my nightgown open to reveal my thighs. He began to caress them, massaging my pussy with a slow, deliberate rhythm, while simultaneously lubricating it with his own heat. I responded instinctively, my muscles tensing, my breath quickening as I continued to stimulate his pleasure, rubbing his “bone” with my toes, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. The sensation intensified, becoming almost unbearable, as he continued to tease and tantalize. Finally, he reached for my panties, pulling them down with a confident hand. As he did so, he asked me to sing the next verses. I obliged, my voice a breathless whisper as I sang, “This old man, he’s gonna give you his bone, gonna give you his bone…” His kisses on my unmentionables were passionate and demanding, licking my clitoris and the outer folds of my vulva with unrestrained enthusiasm. I was drenched in sweat, my body trembling with the sheer force of my arousal. Every movement, every touch, amplified the pleasure, pushing me further into the depths of sensation.

He rose to his feet, continuing the song with renewed vigor. He pulled off his pants, his gaze intense and unwavering, and commanded me not to move. He held his “bone” aloft, caressing my pussy with it, his touch both forceful and gentle. I begged him to enter me, my voice choked with desire, but he silenced my pleas with a shushing sound, keeping me suspended in anticipation. As he finally plunged inside, the sensation was overwhelming, a torrent of pleasure that threatened to consume me. We writhed together, lost in the throes of our passion, as we simultaneously climaxed, our bodies releasing a torrent of fluids that mingled together in a salty, primal union. We lay there for a few moments, gasping for air, clinging to each other in the aftermath of our intense encounter. My legs dangling over the edge of the bed, I wrapped them around his waist, seeking comfort and stability.

As we caught our breath, he kissed me, his lips tracing the contours of my face, while caressing my body with gentle hands. I felt his “bone” start to harden again, responding to the lingering pleasure, and I played with it, rubbing my hand across its length, teasing him further. He, in turn, fingered my pussy, sending shivers down my spine, lubricating it with his own arousal, feeding my desire. The scent of our mingled sweat and desire filled the air, a potent reminder of the intensity of our experience. He whispered that the song wasn't over yet, his voice husky with anticipation, and he began singing the next verse, pulling his finger wet from my pussy and starting to rub my ass hole. He gently slid one wet finger in, then a second, and a third, each movement sending waves of pleasure through my body. I continued to rub his “bone” with urgency, pushing him closer to the brink.

As he pulled out his fingers, he sang the next verse, rolling me over onto my side. He lifted my ass up to him, and as he rubbed his “bone” in my oozing juices, I felt an overwhelming sense of release. He then plunged back inside, and we continued to writhe together, lost in the heat of the moment, until we both came again, our bodies intertwined in a passionate embrace. I rubbed my clitoris until I too experienced the exquisite pleasure of orgasm, the sensation both intense and euphoric.

Exhausted, we both collapsed onto the bed, crawling back into each other's arms for comfort. We lay there for a few minutes, simply enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies, the lingering scent of arousal still clinging to the air. As I listened to his breathing, I felt a deep sense of contentment, a feeling of being completely and utterly satisfied.

Finally, he shifted, turning to face me and singing the final verse. He asked me if I wanted to do it all over again, and without hesitation, I agreed, my voice filled with desire. "This old man, he's gonna give you his bone, gonna give you his bone…" I repeated, my body already anticipating the pleasure to come. He gave me a thumbs up, a silent invitation to begin anew. And so, as the sun rose over the horizon, casting a golden glow upon our naked bodies, we prepared to repeat the song, to once again succumb to the intoxicating allure of our shared pleasure, knowing that the memories of this night would linger long after the last note had faded away. The nursery rhyme, once strange, now felt like a sacred ritual, a testament to the enduring power of desire and the joy of shared intimacy. It was a reminder that even the simplest of pleasures could lead to moments of profound connection and unforgettable experiences.

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