A Long Day and a Deal

Updated: Sep 15, 2021

She was standing in the kitchen chopping potatoes and carrots for an Instant Pot roast planned for dinner. Hair tied up, soft pink v-neck hanging down just below the lace of her garment top, grey joggers hanging loosely over her tight little butt. As sexy as I found her at that moment, the look on her face made me nervous.


Granted, there’s not any particular facial expression I would expect while chopping vegetables but she seemed especially pensive, as if mentally she were being torn in several different directions and would have preferred otherwise.


“Hey,” I offered mildly, smiling briefly and cautiously to not create too sharp a contrast between my own mood and what I thought might be hers.


“Hey,” she responded, with a semi-forced but authentically motivated smile of her own, followed by one of those exasperated, closed-eyes, downward-facing smiles that silently screams “I’m about to lose my mind.”


“Crazy day?” I inquired, knowing damned well our two boys were never anything but out of their minds.


“Yyyyyuuup,” was her reply, eyes still closed.


“How crazy?” I asked, looking back briefly to see the tops of our two brown haired little boys' heads, ages 4 and 2, silently, motionlessly watching some brightly colored new cartoon with which I was not yet familiar.


“Extra crazy, extra loud, no naps. My sister is having a meltdown, I have a million things to get done and zero time…and…now I’m starting to get a headache. This is seriously the only time they've been quiet all day.” The end of each sentence sounded like crossing the 5-mile marker of a marathon on an ugly course.


I set my laptop bag on the table and walked around behind her, heading to the cupboard where we keep the medicine.


“What’s Kylie’s melting down about?” I queried, catching myself and leaving the ‘this time’ off, as I didn’t want to be perceived as callous or irritated myself. As much as I dislike the changes in mood that typically accompany dealing with her sister's drama, she definitely takes the brunt of it and I've learned that she prefers a more emotionally neutral approach from me. Tends to be more helpful.


“Same stuff, different day,” I heard her sigh behind me, as I carefully counted out 3 Advil Liquid Gels and 2 Tylenol, my go-to headache cocktail. “She’s pissed at Jared because he signed up for another softball league without asking her but that’s got her fuming about everything else. She won’t actually talk to him about it though. She’ll just hold on to it until she explodes months from now.”


After dumping the last of the veggies into the pot, she turns around to lean against the counter.


“That’ll be a fun one,” I offered, as I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “Thanks for restocking the fridge, by the way,” I followed, extending my cupped palm full of pills and a semi-cold water bottle.


“It always is… Thanks,” she replied, grabbing the water and letting me dump the pills into her own outstretched hand.


Pausing for a moment for her to take the medicine before I hit her with my follow-up questions, I’m struck again by how much I appreciate how she looks in her lounge-wear. She clearly hadn’t managed to get out of the house yet that day as she wasn’t wearing a bra and the evidence of that fact was, to my secret delight, very apparent.


“What else is goin on?” I asked, taking a similar posture to her on the other side of our relatively small kitchen.


She took a calming breath in through her nose, exhaled slowly, and began:


“My mom called earlier and asked me if I could help my grandma with her computer. Apparently, it keeps freezing up and she can’t do her family history stuff. She won’t ask anyone for help but keeps griping about so she wants me to go offer to help. Jessica told me that they’re going to do Sarah’s birthday party next Thursday morning, instead of the afternoon, so I have to call and reschedule the boys’ doctor's appointment, but I don’t know what day would work yet and I hate those kinds of calls. Jessica is freaking out cause she’s got to plan a Relief Society activity and wants me to help her come up with something. I agreed to take dinner to the Mitchell’s cause Melanie just had surgery, and I don’t even have everything I need to make what I was planning. I’ve got my lesson on Sunday and I haven’t even thought about it...”


The familiar ding of her text alert punctuated her last words so perfectly it was almost as if it had been planned that way. Like a timer had been set and she managed to get everything out just in the nick of time.


“And Kylie won’t stop texting me.”


I took a couple of calming breaths of my own before saying anything.


“That’s a lot of stuff…”


She nodded through several exasperated facial expressions before heaving a final deep sigh, shooting me a resigned smile, and asking me how my day went.


“Pretty normal day for me. Same ole stuff,” I said, stepping forward and pulling her toward me.


Being about a head taller than she is, her cheek pressed against my chest, nestled cozily under my own, my arms encircling her entirely, one around her shoulders and the other stretched diagonally across her back.


After several moments of gentle squeezes and caresses, I dropped my hands to her waist and guided her backward, just far enough to lean in and plant a kiss right on her lips. It was a teasing kiss in that it lasted just long enough to be unmistakably not a peck but also too short to constitute making out.


Withdrawing my lips but still holding her by her hips, I returned to speaking, confidently optimistic but soft enough that it was obvious I was trying not to attract the attention of the hellions sitting 5 yards away, still uncharacteristically subdued by the TV.


“I’ll make you a deal…” I said, pausing for dramatic effect, raising my eyebrows, and cocking my head, “…but, if I make you this deal, you have to accept it in its entirety.”


She looked up at me, pleasantly bemused.


“I can’t negotiate at all?”


“Nooooope,” I taunted, “I present the deal. You either accept it or reject it. If you reject it, everything in the deal is taken entirely off the table.”


Closing one eye and pursing her lips to make clear she was deliberating internally, she crept her fingers, spider-like, up my back, resting her hands on my scapula and leaning back slightly. She peered into my eyes quizzically, as if she were trying to read my thoughts before hearing my proposal.


“Alright, you have my interest, sir. Let’s hear it.”


Here’s my offer:


I will call your grandma and offer to help her with her computer. I don’t have to be at

work until a little later tomorrow so I can stop by on my way and figure out what’s

wrong with it.


I’ll call tomorrow and reschedule the doctor's appointments.


I’ll go get pizzas for the Mitchells and drop them off.


I’ll take the Wildlings to the park for dinner and run them ragged.


I’ll put it on my To-Do List to help you brainstorm ideas for the Relief Society activity.


Your lesson will be great, even if you wait till the last minute to look at it; you’re a great

teacher.


You can do whatever you want tonight; go to dinner with Kylie, watch TV, go to bed at

7:00…totally up to you.


As I rattle off my list, my hands fidgeted along her lower back and my eyes watched her face to gauge her reaction. As I neared the end of my offer, her brow furrowed as she internally attempted to predict what massive request my generous, self-obligatory proposition must have been setting the stage for. I relished the opportunity to subvert whatever expectations that might have been forming in her mind.


“And all of this can be yours…”


My fingertips find the soft pink hem of her shirt to lift it above the waistband of her sweats, finding the delicate cotton of her garment top tucked beneath. As I gently tug it upward to find the soft flesh of her lower back, she turns her head to give me a leery side-eye, at least partially catching my drift.


I leaned down as I pulled her in closer, my fingers finally connecting with skin.


“…if you’ll let me give you an orgasm, right here in the kitchen…right now,” I whispered in her ear.


As my left hand slid partially up her spine, the fingers of my right slipped along the lower edge of her garment top, tugging it up as my knuckles trailed across the dimples of her butt, her hips, her thighs, and finally coming to rest on her lower abdomen.


She pulls her head back slightly as my fingernails make contact with the skin underneath the elastic of her bottoms. Tilting her head over her right shoulder, shifting her eyes in the same direction, she wordlessly protested…the boys were still sitting on the couch, no more than 15 feet away, concealed from my direct line of sight now by the relatively high back of the L-shaped sectional and the cabinets against which she was now again leaning.


From my vantage point, looking over her shoulder, it was obvious they were both sitting, still transfixed on whatever show or movie had captured their attention prior to my arrival. Though I couldn’t see them anymore, I knew I would be able to see them should they leave the couch.


Keeping my eyes fixed in their general direction, I pivoted slightly, blocking her right side.


“Shhh,” I cautioned, plunging my in-turned palm down her pants, cupping the exquisitely soft heat of her pubic mound with a tender firmness meant to quickly motivate her to push through any token resistance she might have otherwise offered.


“I’ll watch. If they come over, I’ll stop.”


I may never be able to decide which I find more intoxicating- her sweet little gasps of pleasure or the euphoric rush of touching her where only I’m permitted. But the beautiful mixture of the two sensations was as motivating as any incentive I’d ever had.


She usually keeps her pubic hair shaved which somehow made the few days' worth of stubble covering that downy cushion feel even more intense. Perhaps it highlighted the unplanned nature of the encounter and added to the novelty of the experience.


I held my palm tightly to her for several moments, soaking in the heat. As my left hand inched its way up her back, my head dipped down to plant soft, open-mouthed kisses on the exposed few inches of her shoulder, careful to keep my eyes peeled for potential interrupters. When my curious middle finger finally began its work of gently parting her silky lips, the lava that streamed out served as an electrifying invitation to explore its source.


Whether her hips rolled upward primarily to push her clit into my palm or to make the entrance of my finger easier made little difference- the implication of her acquiescence shifting to increasing enthusiasm was lightning in my brain.


My purpose in inserting a finger was at first merely to find some lubrication for my real work northward but feeling her jaw opening at the introduction of my first knuckle was all the encouragement I needed to press further. The response in both her breathing and the adorable little squeezes of her already almost comically tight hole gave me no choice but to linger.


The rest of my fingers pressed snugly against her outer lips and inner thighs, while my longest gently explored and soaked in the magic of my favorite tactile sensation.


My instinct was to remove my left hand from under her shirt where it had begun kneading the tender muscles of her back and grasp her neck. I trailed kisses down her jaw from her upturned chin to her ear where I dared to breathlessly inform her how amazing she felt.


“Shhh,” I playfully reminded her, as I slipped from inside of her and followed the natural path up to the apex of her labia, stopping briefly to trace a few circles directly on the tight little ball of her clit. She squirmed, as I knew she would. It’s far too sensitive for too much direct contact.


Moving leisurely to rest atop its hood, I begin the slow, rhythmic circles she needs. By now she has melted down against the side of the countertop, widening her stance and giving me all the access I needed, trusting my discretion and giving herself to the moment.


My pace and motion remained nearly uniform for several minutes, except for periodic bursts of acceleration and the occasional side-to-side movement. Her eyes remained almost exclusively closed while mine had to remain open and alert, along with my ears, perked up and ready to respond to any sudden movements from the living room.


Her breathing was slow and labored and her face was focused and intent. It was excruciatingly delicious to see the effect I was capable of having on her- how much she enjoyed my touch. It is rare to feel at once powerful and simultaneously at the mercy of the person over which that power is being exercised. But I savored the paradoxical feeling as I fought through the ache in my hand and forearm, riding the wave of psychological pleasure.


Either the building pain in my arm was more obvious than I suspected or, assuming it from her own experience, she used her left thumb to pull the waistbands of her garments and pants about an inch off of her body, reducing the resistance against my arm. Her participation; her helping to facilitate my giving her pleasure; her embracing her ability to receive it from me, are simple gestures but they are as erotic as any sexual acts I know.


In relatively little time, some combination of subtle escalations telegraphed her final ascent towards climax, which felt like more incitement than I needed. Gripping the nape of her neck, I pulled her toward me and took her right ear lobe in my mouth, firmly squeezing it between my lips and lapping it with my tongue, never reducing the consistency of my strokes below.


“Cum for me, baby,” came my hoarse command against her cheek.


The increased tightness with which her eyes remained closed and the stiffness of her jaw, still hanging slightly open, told me she was slowly rolling over that orgasmic cliff from which there was no return. My pressure increased slightly. My hand quickened its tempo. A cocky gasp escaped my own lips as her body began to tremble with the immediacy of her release.


Acutely aware of the need to remain quiet, she sucked in a breath in a strained gasp, before allowing her mouth to open in a mock scream as her back and shoulders rolled forward, face contorting against her will, leaning into the powerful contractions now coming in waves below, each accompanied by a small shudder. An almost spiritual cascade of feelings washed over me as well, as I basked in the magnificence of giving her this gift that was only mine to give- to bless her life in the way only I was allowed.


After a handful of spasms, her breathing finally resumed- her first intake almost resembling a yawn before slowly exhaling as if she were blowing out a single birthday candle placed an inch from her lips. Her face softened as she began breathing slowly through her nose and she opened her eyes, flashing a grateful smile as my palm eased its way up out of her pants.


“Mmm, you’re so sexy,” I muttered, placing my hand again firmly on her crotch, through the soft fabric of her sweats…”I love touching you.”


She said nothing at first. Then leaned forward, clearly in that most sleepily relaxed post-orgasmic moment, and wrapped her arms around my waist. Forehead pressed snugly against my chest, “Thanks,” was all she could muster for a bit.

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