I was in the kitchen, cooking supper, we were having creamy garlic pasta and sautéed basil shrimp. The pasta had just been put on to boil and the rest of the ingredients were waiting to be cooked. I had just put on my purple rubber dish gloves to wash the dishes that I had used to prep the food for dinner. As I turned to put the water on you came up behind me and slid your arms around me.
You swept your hand up my shoulder and along the column of my neck, you moved my hair over to the other side and tilted my head exposing my neck. Leaning down you started nibbling and kissing up my neck, biting the tender skin, I gasped with pleasure at the tiny amount of pain it caused.
Tilting my head back you captured my lips with yours and nipped at the corner of my mouth, traced my bottom lip with your tongue then fused our mouths together, tongues sliding along each other, tasting, caressing the inside of each other’s mouths.
Your hands slid down my arms and took each one of my gloved hands and placed them on the counter in front of me. Leaning to my ear, in that low voice that sounds like a sexy growl, say to me, “Don’t move your hands, love.” Your hands slid from my wrists, up my rib cage over my breasts, where you could feel my nipples hardened with desire against your palm. Your hands slip inside of my shirt and under the lace of my bra to caress my breasts and pinch the nipples.
Your hands move down again over my belly now, to caress the side of my hips, pulling me back into you. I can feel you, hard against my bottom. Your hands slide down to the edge of my skirt and slowly pulling it up, baring my skin. Caressing my bare thighs, sliding up to the lacy edge of my thong, you sucked in a breath when you saw they were your favorite purple ones. Hooking your thumbs in each side of the elastic you slide them down my legs just to my knees.
I feel you then, behind me, opening your pants, fitting the tip of your cock against my wet pussy you slide all the way in. You place your hands over mine, twining your fingers with mine, still in the rubber gloves. Setting a slow, deep rhythm, you pull in and out, my back arches to meet every thrust. As we get closer to the edge, the movements become harder and faster, then with one deep thrust my muscles tighten around you, squeezing your cock as it pulses inside me.
We rest for a few moments, with your forehead resting on the top of my head until our breathing returns to normal. I feel as you leave my body, the absence of you and I miss you already, pulling my thong back up and smoothing it over my hips then pulling my skirt back down. You nuzzle my neck, kiss my cheek and whisper in that sexy voice of yours “I love your purple dish gloves!”