He slams me backwards and all at once I’m flush against the door of the fridge. His hands all over, around, under and running through me. I’d hardly got through the door and he takes hold of me by the wrist and does this.
I’m wary, rabbit in headlights. My eyes dart to look behind him.
No washing on the line, he says, spotting where my eyes have settled on the next-door neighbour’s plot of garden next to ours. His words call me back to him and I sink into his lips that brush against my skin.
He’s hooked his hands under my work skirt and is raising the hemline ever higher until he reaches the edge of my tights. Wasting no time at all he shuffles my underwear down to just below my knees to allow his fingers freedom over my skin.
My balance begins to sway as his fingers set to work, lightly at first on my sex, testing me, teasing me, tantalising me into arousal.
As my head starts to cloud with lust, my hands cling on to his body, holding him tightly to me. My thoughts run momentarily to the frozen pizza abandoned in the living room in the shopping bag but before I can start to think about it defrosting he’s pressing with more urgency into me. His fingers speed up on my clit and I start rocking my hips, shifting up and down small lengths of the fridge, hair catching against the surface.
A hand of his takes a swipe at my side, catching on my hip and the top of my behind. He likes the sound his hand makes and grins that devil grin of his. He turns me around and exposes my arse; again I look behind me past him into the garden. No one there. He still can get away with it.
I let him.
Several spanks land on my tender bottom, echoes of pain from last night when we tested his birthday gift to me – Our first ever riding crop. The copious welts from that had given me a delicate day sat at my desk. Each adjustment sent a slight shiver through me at the ghosting memory it triggered.
Madness took over me and I now tried to wriggle away from him. He hauled me back in place and intensified his spanking. The white noise filtered in and out of my mind but I couldn’t get rid of the nervousness of being so visible in the kitchen. I failed him and contorted myself away.
A growl and grab at my waist.
Get back here. Where do you think you’re going?
A wooden chair from the dining table was dragged over the floor, the sharp noise was harsh to my ears. My clustered tights and knickers were removed and discarded near the cooker.
Bring your legs either side of this. Sit.
I did. I was straddling the chair facing its back, Mister looking down at me.
Bad girls get punished.
He set to work. With my legs all but held apart I lay open for him to strum his fingers over my pussy. I grabbed hold of the chair back and bore his relentlessly speedy fingering. I cried out and yelped through the intensity of the pleasure running through me.
But still I rebelled. I had to leap out from here and I eyed him with the anxiety of a trapped animal. Still wild, still untamed.
Nodding, I did as I was told this time, hoping that in moving to the bedroom he would now relieve me of my nervousness being where all eyes could potentially see should they stumble into looking through the window.
Halfway up the stairs walking behind me he caught hold once more and guided me to bend forward until my hands rested on a stair a few above where me feet were.
As he said the word, my skirt was lifted again so he could get a good look at me.
I moved slowly for him, letting him get his fill.
Before I had even reached the top step he had stopped me. Looking behind me I watched as he unbuckled his belt a few steps below me and reached into a pocket to withdraw a condom. I briefly wondered when he had picked that up from the bedroom. Had he been planning this all afternoon?
Little time was given for me to ponder as he took my hand to his cock to be guided to just the right spot and he thrust into me with little ceremony.
Intense fucking at the top of the stairs. We didn’t even make it to the bedroom. His grunts, my low growling moans. The thrill of screwing me in my work clothes gets him off so well.
Without doubt one of the finer ways to be welcomed home.