Symon & Michelle - Good, clean, fun

A few months into this hobby, I'd written a bunch of short, stand alone stories that could wound up all being about the same couple. They are not in any particular order, and you don't need to know anything about the other stories to understand each one. Some stories are fairly tame, while others are more intense and explore fetishes, BDSM, and specifically S/m themes. I've carefully put each in the appropriate category so people know what they're reading.

I think of them as 'scenes from a kinky marriage.' I hope you enjoy them.

Thanks, Belle

P.S. -- The fetishy bit is mostly at the end.

*~~* *~~* *~~*

Symon sat on the couch, relaxing comfortably, arms spread along the back. He was savoring the end of a the work week and the upcoming pleasures of a long holiday weekend. Michelle was in the kitchen, putting the dinner dishes into the washer. She thought he seemed weary. He'd mentioned some new client who was causing a lot of drama, a big account that the partners in his firm were hellbent on landing for good, no matter the trouble the added work was causing in the meantime. He tried to keep the stress at work, but after all this time together, she could see the frustration in him.

Michelle's long dark hair was piled on her head in a loose bun. She wore only an oversized old t-shirt that was soft enough it draped down between her large breasts. She still wore the butt plug she'd had in all day. She thought about all the stress they'd both been under lately, and how much they were both looking forward to a few days to relax. She hoped for a chance to lighten the mood.

Symon laid his head on the back of the couch, musing about all the possibilities of new house they'd bought a few months earlier. He was mentally measuring ceiling joists, and sketching the plan to renovate basement. Michelle couldn't know, but he was fantasizing about all the things they couldn't do in their old apartment.

Suddenly he hollered, loud enough to catch her attention. "Hey, Michelle. You know what I want to do?"

She peaked around the kitchen doorway. "Umm. You wanna cover me in peanut butter and jam, and lick me clean."

He smiled, and looked at her quizzically as she disappeared back into the kitchen. "Uh. No..."

She yelled so he could hear her. "Ok. Oh! You wanna cover your dick in peanut butter and jam, and I'll lick you clean."

He laughed. "Nope."

"Warmer?" she asked, leaning out into the hallway again.

"Not even a little bit."

She furrowed her brow, dramatically, stepping fully into the hallway. Stood there with her hand under her chin. Snapped her fingers. "I've got it. You want to fuck me into a coma, and upload the video to Porn Hub."

"No. Though that's a thought."

She stripped off the t-shirt. "Closer?"

"No. Well. Maybe a hair closer."

She twirled the t-shirt over her head and tossed in the general vicinity of the bedroom. As she was sauntering over to him, she snapped her fingers again. "You want to strap me down to the coffee table, flog me senseless, and use my pussy as a cock holder. I mean, cup holder."

She'd gotten to the couch and was standing in front of him. "No, wait, I do mean cock holder."

She climbed onto the couch, straddling and facing him. Took his face in both her hands as Symon was saying, "We did that already."

She shrugged. "Well, they say some things are better the fourth time around."

She prevented his answer by kissing him deeply. Pressing him back against the couch, while he left his arms casually along the back. She spread her knees wider and settled into him, slowly grinding her hips closer to his torso.

When they came up for air he said, "Only if you're very, very good."

"Ooooh. If I'm very bad, will you spank me?"

She was reaching down for his shirt hem, pulling up. He leaned slightly forward to help her raise it.

"Nope. If you're bad I'm going to put you in time out in the corner and ignore you."

"What?" she asked, pretending to be shocked. "I thought you were a great believer in corporal punishment."

She yanked the shirt off over his head and tossed it behind her. He was laughing. "Yeah, but in your case that would be corporal reward."

"Details," she mused, leaning down to kiss his nipple. "Details."

Michelle licked and sucked on his nipple, then trailed kisses to the other one. She stroked his side with one hand, and slid her other between them, finding the button to his fly and undoing it. She continued rolling her hips and pressing her pussy against him. She rubbed her palm against his fly, feeling his dick respond and him relax deeper into the sofa. She relished the feeling of the rough denim of his jeans against her naked thighs and vulva.

As she was attending to his other nipple, licking it and gently sucking the nipple and his areola, she felt Symon lightly stroking her back and sides. She kissed more deeply and he rewarded that by squeezing her ass cheeks. When he lightly tapped the butt plug, she hummed against the nipple in her mouth. He inhaled deeply and let out a long satisfied sigh.

She straightened up and kissed his mouth again, he opened up and let her slide her tongue in, letting her search in his mouth with it. He sucked on her tongue and felt her smiling. She raised up on her knees enough to unzip him and start pushing his jeans down. He shifted his hips just enough to let her free his penis from his pants. He was glad he'd opted against undershorts when he changed after work.

Sliding his jeans down just far enough, and leaning back a little, she took his penis in hand. He was already erect, and she was more than wet. She stroked his cock a little, while continuing to explore his mouth with her tongue. He was using his hands to tease her back and ass, pulling her closer to him, puling her butt cheeks apart, and pressing rhythmically on the butt plug. It felt like he was inside her and gently fucking her ass.

She positioned the head of his cock at her opening and pulled away from the kiss. As they made eye contact, she slowly lowered herself onto him, spreading her knees wide and letting her weight push him all the way into her. He'd also spread his legs slightly, and his thighs were no longer directly under her hip bones, so she could slide down farther onto him.

When she was settled, with his prick as far in her as she could get, she squeezed her pussy tight, squeezed her ass cheeks tight and rocked back and forth. Slowly. Watching him. Watching his eyes flutter closed for a heartbeat, then widen. Watching him slide down the seat so that his head could rest on the back.

Michelle put her hands on his knees, behind her, and Symon took one of her breasts in each hand. He squeezed her breasts, individually in each hand, and then pressing them together. Letting go and squeezing again, each grip a little harder, tighter, and longer than the last. She mimicked that with her pussy and ass, tightening all those muscles in concert, in time with his hands, and rocking back and forth. So he didn't actually slide out of her, but they felt him moving a little inside her.

They were still staring at each other. And she felt mischievous.

While she was relaxing her muscles after one long, hard, contraction she said, "So. What do you want to do to me?"

"Fuck if I know."

He dropped her breasts so he could wrap both arms around her, pulled her to him. Kissed her hard, his tongue now doing all the exploring in her mouth; she now sucking on his.

She leaned into him, and grabbed the back of the couch behind his head. She started moving more, gliding up and down his shaft, still squeezing tight as she was pulling up, then loosening and pressing down on him as hard and as far as she could. He tilted his hips, and pressed her knees even wider. She could feel him starting to thrust up into her as she quickened the pace.

She leaned down and nibbled, suckled on his neck, near his ear, and in a line down to his shoulder. She bared her teeth and nipped lightly at his chin. He slapped her ass a few times, and pressed his fingers into the end of the butt plug, also meeting their rhythm. His other hand grabbing and pinching whatever part of her flesh he could reach.

Symon moaned, and his head was thrown back against the couch. Michelle rocked and pumped like a piston in another gear. She couldn't keep her eyes open. She wanted to make him cum first. She could hear herself moaning and grunting. He settled both hands on her ass and was pulling her down, pressing her into him harder, even as he was moving his hips up to meet her. She moved her whole torso against his, faster, and little faster and more deeply still.

His breathing was heavy and suddenly he held one long breath. Then gasped and let out a loud moan. She felt his cock spasm. She pumped against him a few more times, and found her own orgasm. He'd clasped his hands, loosely, around her back, and his head was still laying back on the couch.

She gently stroked his cheek and wrapped her arms around him as best she could. They rested like that for a few moments, then he slid sideways, to lie down on the sofa, with her still secure in his arms. They twined their legs together, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

Symon stroked her hair. "You always know what I need," he murmured.

"Not always. But it feels good when I get it right."

They drifted for a while, not talking or thinking, just content in each other's arms, in the warmth and sensation of breathing and heartbeats.

After a while, his jeans bunched around his knees started to feel uncomfortable, so he slapped her ass to get her up. She stood and pulled his pants off the rest of the way, then went into the bathroom.

He followed her, watching her pee with a gleam in his eyes.

"You never guessed right," he smirked.

"About what you want to do?"

"Yeah. All your answers were wrong."

"What? You're kidding." Michelle exclaimed, sarcastically. She was wiping herself, still not used to the casual way he observed this once private act.

"So, what's the right answer?"

Symon nodded toward the shower. "I wanna figure out how to string you up in there."

"In the shower?"

"Yep."

"You want to tie me up in the shower?"

He'd moved into the bathroom and leaned against the edge of the soaker tub. He casually turned on the taps for hot water. His grin was wide, and he gestured for her to come over to him. She leaned against him as he wrapped his arms around her again.

"Yeah. Just imagine what you'll sound like in here. Your squealin' an' cussin', echoing off all these hard surfaces."

"Someone'll call the cops."

"That's why we moved, remember."

She did remember. At their old apartment, no one had actually called the police. But they'd started to get some hard stares from neighbors. They'd finally found the new place they both liked. A single family, detached home. A place they bought, and could renovate or accessorize the way they wanted. With a basement and thick walls. The possibilities were, well, daunting.

She was staring up at his dark blue eyes. "I'm afraid to ask what you plan."

"The usual."

She smacked his chest. "Could you be less specific?"

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

He picked her up and swung around so she landed in the tub. She added some bath oil they both liked and he stepped in. They settled down in the tub together, and he gestured for her to turn so she could lean back against him.

The tub had the taps and faucet along the side, easily in his reach. He adjusted the temperature to hot but tolerable, and leaned back against the end. She scooched back against him, gently swishing the water around them both, over her torso, and over his arms. The tub was almost filled. She leaned back against him, as his legs and arms encircled her. She tilted her head back against his shoulder, and dropped her hands to glide in the soft water along the outside of his thighs.

He turned the water off, and nuzzled her neck. He turned his head slightly to kiss the nape of her neck, and stroked the length of her chest and stomach with his rapidly warming hands. At first he was lightly touching her all over. Michelle relaxed fully against him, her eyes half closed, and she let out a contented sigh. He started caressing her breasts, enjoying the sensation of the slightly oily water, and how easily that allowed him to move over her.

Symon concentrated on her large, pendulous breasts, kneading them like a kitten. Gently at first, then more vigorously, splaying his fingers, flattening out his palms and pushing her breasts in against her chest wall. Then lifting up just slightly and curling his fingers in, trying to leave marks on her skin, gripping tight and then pulling away from her. He never quite let go. Then flattened his hand out again and started over. He kept compressing and pulling, pushing and gripping, over and over again. Each of his hands locked on one of her tits, pressing and stretching, over and over in a slow and steady pace. Like someone might squeeze an oversized stress ball. It almost felt meditative, to him, anyway.

Michelle responded, enjoying his attention, and the lapping of the water against her shoulders. His hands were completely submerged, but he was making small waves that were breaking against them. Otherwise, he was completely still. She was so relaxed, she didn't realize that she'd been sighing along with his ministrations.

The third or fourth time she let out a sigh, he stopped. He just held her breasts, pressed up against her. He nipped at her neck with his teeth and chuckled.

"You want my cock, don't you?"

"Always."

It was true. She was always ready for him. Even if she wasn't exactly aroused, or hadn't been thinking about it, just the sound of his voice made her ready. His smell. A single word of command. The simplest touch, and she'd splay herself open for him, impale herself on him.

He abandoned her breasts, and slid his hands down her sides, cupping her butt and pushing up slightly. The water rushed in between them and as she lifted up he closed his legs so that she was resting on his lap again. Now her legs were to the outside of his, his tumescent penis was trapped between her back and his stomach, and her head could loll back on his shoulder.

Symon bent his legs slightly, and bowed them out, to trap her legs against the tub walls. Spreading her legs, he ran his hands along the inside of her thighs, pressing them open, gliding up against her vulva to open her labia. He reached up and caught her hands, placing them, under the water, against her vulva.

"I love to watch you cum," he breathed, huskily. "You're gonna cum for me, and I'm not doing any of the work. But first you have to earn it."

He pressed his hands against her thighs again, and told her to open herself up. Open her pussy lips so he could see her under the water. She used both hands and held herself open.

"More."

He shifted his grip to press down on her hands, then drag them apart, pulling her folds open. Pulling her mons up to expose her inner lips and her clit, now peaking out from under its hood. She moved her hands to match his preference, then pulled her own skin a little more tightly. The warm water against such tender flesh felt tingly, and every time they shifted, currents of water beat against her.

Symon reached over to the taps, and pressed the button to start draining the tub. Michelle didn't dare move or ask him what he had in mind. He had one hand loosely cupping her mound in the space between her fingers, and was lazily circling her clit with one finger. It was just enough contact to drive her crazy, to surge her desire, to make her ache to please him. He let the tub drain a few inches, then stopped it. Her pussy was almost directly under the faucet, still well submerged.

As he moved his knees to press her legs against the tub wall more securely, he turned on the hot water. Just the hot water, just about full blast. Like a waterfall it cascaded out of the faucet and roiled the water immediately beneath. A column of purely hot water shooting down before mingling with the cooler water already in the tub. With her labia pulled open so tightly, she could feel the change in temperature almost immediately.

Then he started waving his hand in the water, directing the column of hot more closely to her. As the temperature of the water in that small area rose, he kept circulating the current to hit at the thinnest parts of her skin. She could feel him tensing, his legs pressing her open, the muscles in his chest and stomach taut as he curled around her to watch.

The first wisps of steam were rising off the faucet, and still he was directing the water at her. After one particularly well placed bolus, Michelle winced and pressed back against him.

He stopped, but only for a second.

His voice was gravely serious when he asked, "Does it hurt?"

"It's...uncomfortable."

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Not exactly."

"Do you want me to stop?"

She took a deep breath. Holding her voice steady she said, "I want you to do what you want."

He didn't respond, except by kissing her roughly on the neck. He left the hot water running, but stopped moving his hand. He covered her opened slit with both his hands and pressed against her, hard. Then he reached up with one hand and turned off the water. Keeping his other hand covering her, he used his free hand to caress her, stroke her arms, side, thigh, and then to lift up each of her breasts so she could squeeze her upper arms together. He went back to kneading her tits, one handed, alternating them, and adding much more severe pinches on her nipples.

When she was relaxed against him again, still holding herself, he gripped her under the chin and pressed her head back against his shoulder.

He moved his other hand and brushed his fingertips against all of her fingers.

"You're gonna get yourself off. I want to be able to see what you do. I'm going to lay here, enjoying watching you masturbate."

She shifted her hands so that one was splayed open, pressing against the top of her mons, so that her lips would naturally open up and her clit would stand out. She began circling her clit with her other hand, swishing the water around to even out the temperature, trembling as the water surged against her.

He'd moved the hand that was covering her opening, but not away from her. He slid three fingers inside her as far in as he could reach in the position he was in, lying behind her. He used his long middle finger to stroke the front wall of her vagina, while his other two fingers pressed against her inside. He wasn't moving his hand or thrusting with his fingers.

She slipped her hand in behind his, closer to her body, and slid her own finger in long ellipticals around her clit, touching her inner and outer lips, and curving her finger to match the curve of his. She tilted her hips up to give them both better access. She lifted herself up so that he could watch what she was doing, so he could have whatever access he chose. He kept his hand still, but continued sliding his fingertip up and down her vaginal wall.

Michelle concentrated on her clit. The water was dissipating her lubrication, but offering its own slickness. She used the side of her finger to flick back and forth, alternately pressing into herself and then letting off. She started rocking her hips, and the water was sloshing in the tub, over her torso, and the weight of the water was shifting against her. He still had his hand at the base of her chin, pressing her head back against him. Every so often he'd press his fingers and thumb against the sides of her neck, not squeezing, not constricting, just reminding her that he was there.