A New Way of Seeing Things Ch. 22

"You mean they were going to...do THAT...if we hadn't shown up? My little girl?"

"Your married daughter," Tim reminded her. "The one that will probably give you your first grandchild, as long as KD doesn't get careless and beat her to it. And I know you know how babies are made...besides, Alison is married to a young man who most likely doesn't like to wait when the mood strikes."

"What makes you say that about him?"

"Because he's a man, and he's young...speaking of moods, is tonight a good night to keep your promise? If you're tired, it can wait."

"No, I'm fine. Besides," Gwen wrapped her arms around her husband's waist, "a promise is a promise. Did you decide on something?"

"Maybe," he chuckled, "but I don't want to ask for anything that might make you uncomfortable."

"Don't ask, then. Tell me what to do," Gwen said softly. "I'll do whatever it is, I promise."

"Well," Tim began slowly. "Let me ask you a question first. I noticed the other night that you were touching yourself while I was, uhh, on your chest. Do you ever do that when you're alone?"

Gwen buried her head in his neck, too embarrassed to look at him, and nodded.

"Do you ever finish that way?" Another nod. She steeled herself for the inevitable question about her hidden toys. Instead, strong hands grasped each shoulder and walked her backwards until her rear made contact with the kitchen table. Gwen looked up, eyes wide in astonishment. Tim's face was impassive, unreadable. "Take your clothes off."

"Here? What if the kids forgot something and come back?"

"Take your clothes off," he repeated in the same firm yet patient tone that made it obvious this was not a negotiation. Her fingers began to work the buttons of her blouse, leaving it tucked into the waist of her jeans until those slid down her muscled legs. Bra and panties joined shirt and pants laid neatly over the back of nearby chair. Gwen demurely folded her hands in front of her mostly-shaven cleft and briefly looked into the eyes of her husband leaning back against the counter, the smug smile curling his lip giving her a shiver of excitement. Her focus moved on to his arms as they lay folded against his chest.

"Touch yourself."

Gwen glanced nervously behind her. "But the curtains are open!"

"Touch yourself. Down there."

She was mentally reluctant but physically anxious to comply. The index finger of her right hand was slowly pushed into her furrow while the left hand attempted to provide cover. Even the tentative advance of the digit down her moist lips gave her a tremor of physical and mental pleasure.

Touch yourself like you do when I'm not here."

"But I wouldn't be touching myself out here," she replied in a near-whine.

"Alright," Tim laughed gently. "Then exactly where would you be touching yourself?"

By that window, in the office, in the pool, up at the top of the hill, the Slut answered. "Well, the bedroom, I guess," she managed.

"Alright then, show me in there."

Gwen led the way down the hall, lying on the bed with ankles crossed while Tim undressed, his erection snapping into view as he hurriedly pushed down the underwear that had snagged on it He grabbed her ankles and spread her legs before climbing on the mattress. Her initial thought was that Tim had changed his mind and that she was to be mounted right then and there. To her mild surprise, he took a seat between her outstretched thighs, legs thrown over her own. "Touch yourself."

Again her right hand reached down with an extended finger, the left hand not providing cover this time. Embarrassment burned in her as she lay wide open, stroke and probe herself in front of Tim. I wouldn't be doing this if he hadn't made me, she lied to the Lady. But he had made it clear what he wanted...her building excitement grew as he began to stroke himself while he watched her finger slide up and down through her slit, circling her nub before retreating to just above her rosebud, then back. Eventually her palm planted itself firmly on her mons and rubbed back and forth while the finger shortened its path and spent more and more time pushing in and out of her opening.

Tim's hand continued to slide along his length as he watched on in fascination, eyes only occasionally traveling up her twitching stomach to watch her left hand as it began to caress her breasts. Gwen's eyes would open briefly to look at his staff, skin moving loosely along his length beneath his closed fist as it pushed clear liquid up to bubble out of the angry red head.

Gwen's mental and physical pleasure was taking its toll on her self-control. She found herself wishing for a vibrator, maybe two, as her palm pressed down on the nerve endings above and around her clit. Maybe now would be the time to reveal the items in her closet? No, the Lady decided. He might be threatened by them, particularly that big weapon that occupied its own boot.

Tim's breathing grew ragged and his strokes more forceful as he stared at her hand hard at work just inches from his own. Gwen could feel his legs tense and his breathing catch in mid-inhale, followed by the first jet of white cream. It landed on the back of her hand with a dull wet plop, surprisingly hot against her already-warm skin. The jets pulsed in heartbeat-like intervals as he mashed his fist down against the base of his hose, growing weaker with each, Tim doing his best to push forward and have them land on her and not the bedspread. Gwen stopped her own efforts for a moment to watch the liquid gather on the back of her hand before she could resist no longer and resumed her own urgent stroking even as her husband's seed began to slide off, down onto her waiting sex. She imagined her impending orgasm as more of an approaching storm than the first violent bolt of lightning, and the gathering clouds made the breaking storm made that much more intense. She desperately wanted to bring her legs together, to squeeze down and somehow control the waves radiating out from her sex, but Tim's body was in the way and his sides bore the brunt of her reflexive muscle contractions. She fought the urge to cry out while her hand squeezed the tit beneath.

And then it was over, the space between her legs and the shifting of the bed telling her Tim had gotten up even as she shuddered through the last tremors of her climax. He hurried back into the room as she opened her eyes, washcloth in hand.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "Got some on the bedspread. Got most of it on you, though. Sorry about that,too."

"It's alright," she replied weakly as he dabbed clumsily between her open legs, amused at how quickly the man whose bidding she had just done had turned into someone fearing her wrath for a stained duvet. "I'll put it in the wash tonight. We've got a spare."

Gwen held out her hand for the washcloth. "May I?" Tim quickly handed it over, watching her reaction carefully. Her right hand and crotch were cleaned before she arose to head to the bathroom and finish the job.

"Maybe a swim before bed?" Tim asked when she returned.

"That would be nice. I'm guessing bathing suits are neither required or wanted?"

"Good guess."

Gwen made her way down the hall, coming back after a moment with the clothes she had been told to discard earlier.

"What are you doing?" Tim asked as she began to step into her panties.

"I'm going to make sure the horses are all set before I go up to the pool."

"And you need to be dressed to do that?"

"Well, yes, of course."

"Why?"

Gwen stood there, searching for an answer. Five minutes later the horses were mildly surprised to see their humans walk in from the gathering darkness, naked save for their muck boots.

The sight of Tim throwing hay bales from one part of the barn to the other, taut muscles rippling while penis and testicles swung wildly, planted less than pure thoughts in his wife's head. Gwen made those thoughts take shape in the water a few moments later, and culminated in their bedroom with a comfortable lovemaking session shortly after that.