Secret Moment to Myself

The best news I had all day was a little message from my husband to say he wouldn't be home until later than normal tonight.

I think I need to clarify: I love my husband more than anything, and we have a wonderful life together, from the fits of laughter to the mind-blowing orgasms, but sometimes... well, sometimes I like to have a bit of a giggle on my own, if you know what I mean.

There's a bit of a routine I've got into, in my secret little moments. It starts with that satisfying click of the lock the moment I walk into the house. It's empty, and silent – too far back from the road for traffic noise, no neighbours to worry about. I close the curtains, and it's dark all over the house. It's warm too, and I shake off my coat first, leaving it lying on the floor by the front door. Then I walk over to the sofa and sit in the silence for a few minutes. It's blissful, after all the noise and bluster of a day at work.

I take off my belt and then unbutton my shirt, watching it fall off my shoulders. I stand up, unzip my pencil skirt, and let it drop to the floor. I can see myself reflected in the tv screen, standing in my underwear, claret red lace bra and panties, with smoky black stockings held up by a pitch black suspender belt. I like looking at myself, appreciating the curves of my body, my almost oversized breasts and the hourglass sides, feeling all the more sexy for the spiked heels I'm still wearing. I turn and look at myself from every angle I can manage, and then collapse again onto the sofa.

I just lie there to start with, listening to my own breathing. I let images run through my head, of my husband, his face when we make love, the experiments we've had together, every erotic moment I can recall, and after a while I settle on the one I want to think about right now. Today, for example, when I got to this stage, I started to remember a threesome we'd had about six months before. That was a good night. A woman we'd known a while, Claire – we'd all slept together before – but that one night, it was electric. How she leaned over and kissed me on the bed, her tongue flicking into my mouth explosively while my husband watched us. How we had stroked each other's naked bodies, her nipples like cherries in my mouth as she slid one finger softly across my clit, causing me to shake so badly I thought I'd cum right then. The memory made me smile; I felt my pussy twitch and looked down to see my own nipples erect and ready. I wanted to squeeze them, hold my breast in my hand and bring it up to my mouth to lick it, suck it hard, bite it like I'd bitten Claire's. Not yet though: I like to prolong things as long as possible, when I've got time on my side.

My mind raced back over the images of that night with Claire. I remembered how things got heavier, as my husband joined us and stroked our bodies at the same time, then kissed our breasts, first mine, then hers, switching between us over and over again and getting faster and firmer in his kisses both times. We'd gasped as he sucked at our nipples, more so when the fingers of his left hand found my pussy and started to play as his right hand pinched Claire's nipples tightly. When I saw it move down to play with her cunt, fingers slipping in smoothly, I had felt a flash of jealously, followed by intense arousal – I moved his hand away from her and began to play with her myself. Her pussy was warm, tight, and soaking wet, and she responded to every touch with moans. Before long I felt her grinding herself on my hand, and was grateful for my husband's attention on my own cunt.

Speaking of which.. while my head was full of memories, my hands had found my breasts. I was running my hands over the lace fabric of my bra, tracing circles getting closer and closer to my engorged nipples. I slipped my hands behind my back and undid the clasp, letting my breasts free, letting my hands wander over the soft flesh and squeeze, pull, getting more frantic with every move. Soon my nipples were between my fingers and I was tweaking hard, feeling jolts of current through my whole body right down to my pussy – now wet, I could feel from the fabric clinging, and swollen, sensitive, aching to be played with. I pulled at my tits again, making myself moan loudly for the first time this evening. I couldn't wait any longer: I pushed both breasts up to my face and licked desperately at each nipple in turn. All the while, the memories played in my mind, Claire's excited noises when I played with her cunt, and her writhing body as I sucked hard on her cherry nipples at the same time.

I have a favourite moment when I play with myself like this, and by this point I was just about ready for it. I stood up from the sofa, seeing myself in the tv again but now with my tits exposed and excited. I pulled off my high heels. I unclasped my stockings from their suspender belt and turned away from the tv – I didn't want to see this, just to feel it, the luscious, sensual feeling of the silk sliding down my legs as I pulled the stockings down over skin already so sensitive. After kicking the stockings away I slipped my hands into my panties and pulled them away and down to the ground. I could see the damp on them from my cunt juice.

Settling back onto the sofa, my hands moved back to my nipples, squeezing again, but my body was desperate for more now. My mental images skipped further along in that night, to a moment when I was riding on my husband's thick cock, straddling him and working my pussy hard, but looking not at my husband but at Claire as she sat over his face, gasping as his tongue darted into her cunt. While I rode my husband I played with her tits and kissed her desperately, all the time her gasps getting faster as she got closer to cumming. Remembering this I let my hands slide down my body. By the time my fingers found my pussy it was swollen, so sensitive, and dripping wet.

I began to play with my cunt, starting with pulling apart those lips and sliding my fingers gently between them. The wetness made it so slippery I could barely keep my fingers where I wanted them. I dipped my finger right into my pussy and pulled it out soaking wet, then dragged it across both of my nipples, enjoying the exquisite tingle that passed through me. Then I returned both hands to my cunt, and I knew almost instantly how close I was to cumming.

Now I let the images run through my head fast as anything, feeling the excitement building incredibly. Claire's beautiful tits as I sucked them, the feel of her pussy on my hand, the way she touched my body, and all the time my gorgeous husband's body between us, fucking us each in turn, licking our pussies and grabbing our tits. Dreaming about it, I finally let my fingers settle on the bud of my clit, now sensitive and hard and ready. With one hand I fingered my tight pussy, reaching and rubbing desperately; with the other, I softly circled my oversensitive clit. Everything was wet, slippy swollen – I felt my body shiver once and knew I couldn't hold off much longer.

In a frenzy now, I could concentrate on nothing but the mounting sensation growing in me. My fingers rubbed hard against my clit, the other hand pounding harder and harder at my hole. It was so tight, so wet, I couldn't stand it: with a final flick of my clit I felt my whole body contract in the most explosive orgasm, visions in my head of Claire cumming on my tongue as my husband fucked me hard from behind, my husband cumming over my face while Claire sucked at his balls, visions of her sucking at my tits while he licked hard at my clit and then, just as now, me cumming so hard that everything went black as death in bliss.

My fingers, soaking, fell limply to my side as my body seemed to collapse after the intensity of the orgasm. I smiled to myself. Returning to reality, I turned onto my side, spent, exhausted, exhilarated. It was at that moment I saw my husband across the room. In my excitement I hadn't heard him come in, but there he was, sat leaning forward so I couldn't see the huge erection I could tell was waiting for me, and he grinned widely. I smiled back, too tired to say a word. I guess he had enjoyed watching me like that – but now my secret moments aren't quite so secret.