Shelly Hates to Wait
Shelly had started it, but she almost
regretted it now. Teasing her husband was
one thing, and being teased back was okay, but it
had been nearly two full hours since she'd hit the plateau of needing to do something
about it, and she was getting antsy. She could tell that Paul was
feeling the
same.
Shelly was thirty-eight and her husband Paul
was forty-five. They had been married for seventeen years and,
while they sometimes fought like a 1940's radio show couple, they
were still very much in love. Paul was a sweet, thoughtful
husband, and Shelly would do anything for him.
He was a singer song-writer, but had
never gotten the exposure needed to make
a living out of it. Even though she had wanted
to be a stay-at-home mom for their two kids, she had instead taken on selling real
estate so that he only needed part time work and could still keep
chasing his
dream.
Neither of them was the gorgeous young
creature they had been when they'd married, but the bedroom side of
their relationship was never lacking because of it. Shelly was
a little taller than average, tan and curvy. She had short,
blonde hair and sharp brown eyes. There were a few smile lines
at the corners of those ones, and there was a little extra weight on
her figure, but Paul always told her she looked even sexier than ever. Paul himself
was a little shorter than average for
a man, had a little bit of
his own middle age weight, and his hair was thinning.
Still, he had a smile that could charm Shelly into doing just about anything, and when
his hands were dancing on guitar strings they were the most attractive thing
she'd ever
seen.
The only frustration in their love life was that their work schedules and
their active teenage kids kept them frequently
apart until they were both too exhausted
to explore physical expressions of their love. This weekend was
supposed to be all theirs; the kids were away on a youth group trip. It was
going to be all them. They'd taken off work Saturday and Sunday just
to make
sure.
And then Shelly's in-laws had stopped by to take them
out on
Saturday.
They
were very sweet, and Shelly and Paul both accepted their offer, albeit with
pangs of
regret.
Paul dressed in a light
grey suit that was probably not stylish, but which framed
his body well. Shelly wore a purple dress that she had purchased off the rack at
a discount store, but it showed her off nicely. Neither was disappointed in
the other's
appearance.
Shelly took it on herself to make sure that
Paul didn't forget what was in store for him later. The whole
car ride she teased him. At first, she
drew the hem of her dress far
up her legs. Then she let her
hand dance around casually on his lap. Then she turned
in her seat, spreading her legs and twisting her hips until he could get a glimpse
up her raised dress, of the black velvet panties in which her womanhood
was nestled
comfortably.
Finally, she whispered in his ear, "I could probably put
my head in your lap and give you a blowjob right now, and
they'd never
know."
But she wasn't that
much of a risk-taker. Instead, she settled for leaving her
husband hard inside his suit pants. She smiled with self-satisfaction. Now, no matter how long and
dull the evening might be, she knew Paul wouldn't forget the primary attraction
of the
evening.
What she didn't
count on was Paul playing back a
little while later by inching the hem of her dress
up under the table in the restaurant and then whispering to her, "I could probably drop
a spoon and eat you from under the table without them having a
having a
clue."
The thought was naughty and impossible, but
it still aroused Shelly, though she was also a bit frustrated at being given
her own treatment. She got her own
revenge by taking advantage of the time
both parents were using the restroom to tug a little
on the neckline of her dress and give her husband a pretty good cleavage shot. A
waiter noticed too, and almost dropped his tray. Shelly was suddenly mortified by
her unaccustomed
boldness.
But Paul was turned on,
and he showed her just how much
by quietly unzipping and giving her a
peak under the table at his semi-rigid manhood. They both
blushed with equal parts embarrassment and excitement. It was all Shelly could do to stop herself
from reaching over and jacking him off even as his parents chatted with
them over
dessert.
Now, as they piled back into the car, they
were both so turned on they were jumpy. As Shelly's in-laws began to
drive, Shelly and Paul's eyes were locked,
fire burning in their shared gaze. Their
fingers stole what little touches they could sneak. There was
no certainty that they would make it to the bedroom once they were back home. Neither
had been this on edge for sex in quite a while. It was
a welcome
feeling.
Until
Paul noticed that they were going a
strange way, that they were further south in town than
they needed to be. "Where are we going, Dad?" he asked, trying to force the tension
in his voice to morph into something more casual. He kept his eyes
on his
wife's.
"Thought we'd go back to our place and
play some
cards."
Shelly's face was not pleased. She mouthed
the word,
"No."
"Not sure Shelly's up to
it tonight, Dad, and to be honest I've got a bit of a headache myself," Paul
said, trying to negotiate their freedom. "We'd probably rather just go home and
go to
bed."
"Nonsense," Paul's mom said. "You
two can just take a little nap in our bed. I'm sure you'll
be all
better."
"Well, if we can use your bed for a little, we'll probably be
okay," Shelly
decided.
Paul's eyes flashed, but
he said
nothing.
When they got to
the house there were plenty of pleasantries, but as quickly
as they could, Shelly and Paul found their way to the bedroom and locked the door.
As soon as they had, Shelly began removing her dress, but Paul was
slower to
move.
"Are you
sure about
this?"
Shelly was wasting no
time. Her dress was already off. "Look at my panties and tell me
I'm not
sure."
"What?" Paul looked. She
was incredibly wet. "Oh. But it's my parent's bed," he whispered. "Isn't that
a little
weird?"
"Then we can use their floor or
their dresser," Shelly insisted, as her bra dropped to the floor. "I'm not
waiting any
longer."
"What if
they hear
us?"
Shelly’s panties were off. She sat
on the edge of the bed, rubbing the heel of
one of her shoes up and down her damp crease. "I've never gotten off with a
shoe, but if you don't join this party soon, Paul, I swear to
God I
will."
"I don't want to have to worry about leaving a mess while
we're having
sex."
Grunting and grimacing, Shelly pulled the
heel up inside her. She growled a
little with pleasure once it was settled
in, stretching her opening and pressing against
her g-spot. "Babe, I am not even slightly concerned about
whether or not I make a mess." She began moving the heel in and out. "God,
baby, if you want a part of this you'd better hurry up and
get in
here."
Arousal finally trumping common sense and personal ethics, Paul gave in and undressed
as quickly as she had. He was hard almost as soon as his
pants were
off.
"That's what
I'm talking about," Shelly remarked with satisfaction, casting the heel
to the side, after licking her juices off it. She lay back; her legs still off
the end of the bed, and spread her thighs. "Come to mamma, you
big strong
butterfly."
Paul knelt between her legs and penetrated her.
She was so warm and wet that it took almost no effort at all. It had
been long enough since their last good session, though, that she was nice
and tight
inside.
"My god," Paul groaned as he moved his hips back and forth, adding
as much thrust as possible with his lower back. "I always forget just
good you
feel."
Shelly's head rolled from
side to side, her eyes closed. She
was in heaven. Her husband felt so good inside her.
This was when she remembered that they were married. That they were truly one person. The
man she loved was actually inside her. Her body was wrapped around his.
It was
overwhelming.
Her right hand idly teased her own clit and her left tugged
and twisted her nipples until they were
hard. That was mostly to give Paul
something hot to look at it. Playing with her own
breasts wasn't that exciting for Shelly, but Paul's reaction to it always was. This was no
exception, as it made her husband ramp up his intensity and try to
strike deeper
wells.
Paul gripped his wife's hips and pulled
her more tightly against him. Shelly drew her legs up and threw them over his shoulders.
He pressed even closer, bending them back a little, and giving himself the
deepest possible
penetration.
His stroked were unimaginably hard, even from his knees. Every thrust rocked her
body. Soon, Shelly was gripping at the the bedspread as if her life
depended on
it.
Every thrust was hard and deep, as if Paul
could see her end in sight was desperately trying to drive her there. She abandoned herself
to the pleasure of that drive. She'd
had sex with probably a dozen guys
before they married, but she'd never once had an orgasm
until Paul. She still found the experience terrifying, as she climbed that rollercoaster and the endorphins
built with anticipation, but with Paul she had trust, and she could really
let herself
go.
As soon as she was at the top of the rollercoaster, her
body involuntarily hunched forward. Paul knew what it meant, and he drove straight
into her
g-spot.
Shelly insides trembled, her abs spasmed,
and she made a terrifying series
of choking gasps as her body blew
forth a near geyser of warm fluids.
She didn't squirt every time, and it didn't add any
pleasure per se, but there was something very satisfying about the strong physical release of fluids.
Paul always seemed excited by being showered with her ejaculation, so that made
it worthwhile
too.
She wanted more, though. It
had been too long, with too much build-up. "Don't stop," she begged. "Not
yet. Keep
going."
No longer concerned with decorum or whether
any of this was smart, Paul pushed his wife and rolled her over so
that she was on all four on his own parents' bed. She held herself up, breasts hanging
down, back arched only slightly. He caressed
her hips, and then smacked her cheeks
lightly before plunging back in. This was all about going
hard and fast, and his power would have felt almost brutal, did she not know the
power originated in his desire to for her to feel as good as
she possibly
could.
Her arms couldn't
hold up for too long, and soon
her face was planted in the bed. He thrust rapidly,
in and out, using his grip on her hips to keep things aligned and in sync.
He hammered her g-spot repeatedly, and soon she was gasping as she climbed
the rollercoaster
again.
"Let it all go," he panted. "Just let
yourself feel
it."
Shelly did just that and was soon squirting again,
her womanhood spraying like an upside down geyser, soaking Paul's body and the
bedspread beneath
them.
As soon as she
was able, Shelly rolled to her back
and pressed her breasts together. They were not huge, but
they were large enough and soft enough that Paul loved sliding himself between them. The act
itself was not especially exciting to Shelly, but her husband's pleasure made it
worth every
moment.
His erection was thoroughly lubed with his
own precum and all her juices, so Paul pressed it through the two
mounds of flesh and began stroking back
and forth as his wife squeezed them
together. The soft, yielding pressure on his
completely aroused manhood was deeply sensuous a nasal grunt signaled
that he was finally getting close to his own release. Shelly smiled at him, mouth open,
and giggled, "Give me everything you've got," before sliding her tongue out to
its full
extension.
His first
shot hit right on that tongue, and the rest fell on the bed
on her
chest.
Spent and, at least partly, satisfied, the two rolled into a gentle embrace
and kissed
softly.
It was Shelly who finally said, "I think we made a mess of
your parents'
bed."
They both laughed and smiled, not caring
about the embarrassment that was to come when they had to
explain.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Shelly Hates
to
Wait"
A Romantic Erotica
by Alice Shayne
Copyright, 2010
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