Home is where the boots lie (x-rated)

by Emma

As he drove home, he could feel the tension in his shoulders, his body aching from the stress fuelled day. He felt his hands tighten on the steering wheel as the traffic slowed. He wiped his brow and envisioned her at home waiting for him.

As he rested his hands on the steering wheel, he reflected back over the day. That morning he had awoken late, his alarm had not roused him and on waking, late realisation had forced him to sacrifice his morning coffee and his leisurely shower.

He had spent ages searching through the piles of garments next to the bed for a work shirt, which had not been ironed, then tripped over a pair of scattered and abandoned boots by the door. He had cursed and straightened them next to his house shoes, before rushing out of the door and towards his car, irritation arousing within him.

The day had got better and after a strong coffee and hearty breakfast, he had felt quite satisfied with the afternoon events. However he had spent the final hours of the day watching the clock and wishing for his home, a feeling he was not accustomed to.

He thought about his house as the traffic remained paced around him. His home had always been functional and tidy. It had served him well. It offered him solace after a long day, a peaceful haven to reflect, refresh, and relax.

There were changes when she moved in, of course, he knew there would be. His decor had become littered with her colourful garments, her identity became evident and grew within the bland rooms, and her scent lingered heavily in the air. Make up had begun to appear within the sparse bathroom, and he had felt that at times, her feminism challenged his bachelor routine.

Her blasΓ© approach did unsettle him at times, and she was disorganised in both manner and poise. She had come barging into his life, albeit with sentimental clutter, like a firework to shatter his living silence. Yet, she intrigued him, excited him, the changes were indeed diverse, but he did not regret them. She was unplanned and had disrupted his carefully planned reverie, along with her untidy boots, but now he couldn’t imagine life without her.

He felt a familiar homely emotion as he pulled into the driveway. The same red door, yet somehow different. It looked brighter. He had never felt excitement upon returning home, definate relief, but never the warming bodily glow he was experiencing now.

His key caught in the lock, he sighed and jiggled it slightly, the sound of metal finally connecting as he pushed on the knotted wood. He placed his bag under the coat hook, noticing the boots, again astray and erratic on the hardwood floor. Although this usually niggled him, he felt a smile pull at his lips as he envisioned her slouched on the sofa, her perfume sweetening the room. He imagined her nail varnish strategically balanced on the suite arm, ironically never spilling. Although he always predicted this.

He looked down the hallway and called her name. The lounge was silent apart from the low hum of the television playing silently to an empty room. Her bag lay abandoned and overflowing on the chair.

As he headed towards the stairs, he placed his jacket over the bannister and placed his own boots neatly and parallel with her earlier abandoned footwear. He fought the urge to straighten them and then smiled at the symbolic difference in their ways. She was definitely different but my god, did he love her.

He suddenly felt the need to hold her, let her arms elope him and her scent wipe away the earlier stresses of the day.

He heard the trickle of water and felt the condensated heat hit him as he pushed open the bathroom door. He could see her silhouetted behind the frosted glass. The curve of her back illuminated through the panels.

She did not hear him and as he watched her for a moment, the soapy suds caressing her body, he felt a warmth, a tingle of sweet contentment filling within him.

She turned and saw him then, her body shining with the richness of the watery glaze. Her hair framing her face and dripping down the fullness of her pert breasts. He watched as a single droplet travelled down her body, it’s journey ending as it reached towards her ripe and smooth mound.

His eyes travelled with it and then slowly returned to her face. Her eyes pooled with quiet desire. They never needed words in these moments. Her eyes told him what she wanted. His replied in warranted approval.

He didn’t recall removing his clothes as he felt the water stroking his skin. His mind became useless as he felt his senses enhancing.

She turned her back to him and leant her head on his shoulder, the curve of her back resting gently against his wettened flesh. He let his hands stroke the length of her body, his fingertips moving up to softly caress her full breasts. He heard her gasp and he felt a warming. A sweet burning between his legs. He knew he was already hard. He felt like a soldier ready to battle, the sweet adrenaline pulsating through his body.

She tried to turn toward him, but he held her tight, enjoying the feel of her back molding into him. He let one hand stroke the supple skin of her stomach as he let his fingers explore further. Deeper. She wriggled against him as his hands touched her sweetness, her breathe quickening with each movement. He could feel the soap mingling with her liquid excitement as he gently let his fingers stroke the mound of her secret place. Each stroke he could feel her melting. His finger tips worked in circular motions as her body arched against him, her wetness pushing against his now fervent hands. He could feel her ripened nipples harden in his other palm, her gentle moans escaping and tickling his ear.

The water felt explosive as it rained down on his back. His manhood throbbed against her buttocks, the sweet journey which he knew would be oncoming.

He couldn’t take it anymore. With instinctive strength, he lifted her and left the water running as he carried her carefully, urgently to the bedroom. He layed her down, her arms encircling his neck, her eyes branding into his soul.

The sheets felt wet, moist, and bubbles slowly disappearing with their slow movements. He lay, astride her and let his eyes explore her face, as he stroked the wet hair from her flushed cheek.

She reached down and looked at him, her eyelashes wet and her eyes brimming with her desired need.

He felt her fingers stroking the girth of his manhood, her hand firmly taking hold as she sensuously moved him towards a pleasurable flow.

She rolled from beneath him and took a dominant stance as she pushed him down on the bed. Her lips made moist trails down his chest as she used her tongue to caress his now sensitive flesh. Her hands continued to move slowly and guided her mouth down to the bottom of his stomach. He let out an animal grown as he felt her warm and wet mouth take him into her embrace, her tongue caressing his hardened end, the small strokes almost suffocating his control. She used gentle teasing to pull him into her and he watched as she glanced up at him and licked a single bead of moisture from his stimulated manhood.

He pulled her towards him and held her down as she reached to take him again. He wanted to touch her, taste her, to bury his face in her feminine place. As his tongue explored her, he could feel her rising in pleasurable greeting, her eyes closed and head rolling back as she whispered his name.

He finally gave in to her pleading and joined her in sweet embrace, their bodies working in perfect tune as they moved to a rythm only they could hear.

He held her legs tighter as she wrapped them around him, her need so obvious, yet his own in perfect match.

He loved to be inside her. To feel her body touching his own. Her kisses fervent and their pleasure heightening as they both journey into ecstacy. His climax was simultaneous to her uncontrollable gasps, their bodies spent but yet still entwined. The moment prolonged with meaning.

As he lay with his face buried in her hair, the sweet smell of her skin engulfing him, he thought of her abandoned and muddy boots by the door and smiled.
He was finally coming home.

The mind of a deep thinker…or complete rubbish…it is all down to interpretation and perception…

Advertisements