Striped Shirt, Pink Thong, Sunday Night

The aroma of stale beer and anticipation hung heavy in the air as I waited, perched on the edge of the couch, a lace thong barely containing my excitement. My husband, Mark, was still engrossed in the football game, his eyes glued to the flickering screen, oblivious to the simmering heat building between us. The remnants of our Sunday night ritual lay scattered around the room – empty soda cans, crumpled chip bags, and the faint scent of his aftershave. It had been a long week, filled with work and the usual stresses of daily life, and tonight, all I craved was the raw, primal connection only he could provide.

As the tension mounted, I couldn't resist a playful prod, a gentle tug at his jeans. "Oh, ref, please don't throw me out of the game," I whispered, my voice laced with a touch of desperation. "I'll do anything to play again." His gaze flickered down, a flicker of amusement crossing his face before he returned to the game. But I knew he heard me, understood the silent plea in my tone.

He leaned back, a smug grin playing on his lips, and gestured towards the computer chair. "Let me see you masturbate for me," he commanded, his voice low and suggestive. It was a challenge, a dare, and I eagerly accepted. With a slow, deliberate movement, I slid onto the chair, spreading my legs apart to maximize the view. The lace of my thong brushed against his leg as I lowered myself, the cool fabric a tantalizing contrast to the heat building within me. I took a deep breath, savoring the moment, and began to work my way up, my fingers tracing the sensitive flesh of my own body, finding pleasure in the anticipation.

I licked my finger, pulling it back to caress my clitoris, a slow, deliberate act designed to heighten the pleasure. As my fingers continued their dance, my husband's bulge in his pants grew larger, a visual confirmation of the arousal he felt. A slow smile spread across my face as I watched him, the anticipation building with each passing second.

“Like that ref?” I teased, my voice laced with playful provocation. He chuckled, his eyes never leaving me, before pulling himself up and rolling the computer chair closer. "You were playing dirty one too many times," he said, his voice serious, "We have to eject you from the game." But his tone held a hint of amusement, a knowing wink in his eyes that suggested he wasn't entirely serious. "Didn't you say you would do anything?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. I quickly nodded, eager to please.

As he stood, he grabbed the computer chair, pulling it in front of the couch. "Let me see you masturbate for me," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. The words ignited a fire within me, a primal urge that demanded to be unleashed. I grinned, my body already responding to his touch, and settled onto the chair, spreading my legs apart in anticipation. I knew I was already wet, but I didn’t need to lick my finger; the anticipation alone was enough to send shivers down my spine.

My hand moved to my thong, sliding it over my body as I ran my finger through my lips, seeking further stimulation. The sensation was exquisite, the feeling of impending release almost overwhelming. As I continued to explore my own body, my husband’s bulge grew larger, a testament to his mounting excitement.

“Oh yes,” I moaned, my voice barely a whisper, knowing that I was close to losing control. My fingers continued their frantic dance, my clitoris throbbing with pleasure. The anticipation was building, the heat intensifying, and I felt a primal urge to surrender to the moment.

My husband’s penis was now in his hand, a powerful force of desire. "Oh, oh," I gasped, nearing the edge of ecstasy. As he pulled himself closer, his face buried in my womanhood, I moaned louder, lost in the throes of pleasure.

“Oh yes, ref,” I breathed, spreading my legs further apart and pushing his head closer. It didn't take long before I exploded into his mouth, a torrent of pleasure erupting from my body. The sensation was overwhelming, a complete surrender to the moment.

"Mmm, you might be earning yourself back into the game," he winked after licking his lips, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I think I might need a little bit of help. My penis needs a little attention." I smiled, eager to comply with his every whim.

He got back on the couch, and I crawled in between his legs, playing with his balls as I knew he loved that. I even kissed his hips which always makes him quiver with excitement. Then, I licked up and down his precious shaft before giving him a nice squeeze. "Mm, you definitely liked that," I purred, savoring the sensation. As he squeezed my breast, a gentle, insistent pressure, I bobbed back up and licked his head some more, making him groan in pleasure.

Finally, I slipped him back inside of me. “Oh yes,” I moaned as he began to thrust into me. His hands glued to my breast as he fucked me. I loved hearing his balls hit me with every hard thrust.

“Like that baby?” he asked as he went faster, his voice breathless with desire. "Harder," I moaned, pushing him further, closer to the brink of release. And he did just that, pounding into me with relentless force. The pleasure was intense, almost unbearable, and I screamed his name as we both came at the same time. My body shivered, racked with spasms, as the release washed over me. His hot seed filled into me, and it felt amazing.

After he pulled out, my husband picked me up bridal style. "I think you are back in the game, babe," he winked as he gave me a passionate kiss. We headed to the shower, the steam enveloping us as we washed away the remnants of our intense encounter.

As we stood beneath the warm water, my husband wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. The scent of our bodies mingled with the fresh, clean aroma of the shower, creating an intoxicating blend of desire and intimacy. Looking into his eyes, I knew that our game had just begun. I had earned my place back in the game, and this time, I wouldn't be letting go.

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