Jake had made a decision—his wife’s luscious, pale, creamy flesh deserved more than just an occasional brush with satin and lace. He knew it was just their hectic schedules. Her drawers reflected the chaos of their life. Literally. She had her “period” panties and her regular panties—and there were only a few pairs of nice panties, worn on “special occasions,” those ones tucked in the way back.
He lifted the criss-cross fishnet bodystocking out of the box on the bed—all sexy black trim with the tag still dangling from the edge. He gently pulled off the plastic tab and smiled, knowing it was just her size. Tucking the tag into his pants pocket, he traced the seam where the legs of the fine, black material met.
The thought made him hard.
He put it back into the box with the rest of her surprises, jumping when he heard the door slam downstairs. “Dad?”
“Don’t come up! I’ll be right down!”
His daughter’s defiant tread pounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time as she always did, as if something special waited for her at the top.
Note to self: tell the seventeen year old the opposite of whatever you want her to do.
Jake edged out of the bedroom, shutting the door and meeting Brynn at the top of the stairs. She blew a long wisp of bright red hair out of her eyes as she smiled up at him.
“Can I sleep over at Tina’s tonight?” She gave him a one-armed hug as she slipped by.
“Sure.” He started, surprised at how well that had worked out, although he shouldn’t have been. It was the weekend, after all, and she seemed to spend every waking moment attached at the hip to her best friend. “Your mother and I planned a night alone.”
“Ewwwwww.” Brynn wrinkled her freckled nose, and Jake smiled. She looked exactly like her mother when she did that.
“Hurry up!” he called back over his shoulder as he turned the corner toward the kitchen. Jake leaned against the counter, wondering how Rachel was going to react. Just the thought of her opening the box he’d left on the bed made his pants feel too tight again. He shifted, getting the bottle of wine from the counter.
He set up two glasses and sat down at the table, willing his heart to stop beating so fast. The headlights of Rachel’s Intrepid appeared on the garage door, and he smiled, imagining her gathering up her purse, her bag with all her lesson plans. It was such a sweet moment of anticipation, the time between knowing she was home and waiting for her to appear.
The side door opened and she swept in, unslinging purses and bags from her shoulder and hanging them over a kitchen chair. “You won’t believe the stuff I have to do this weekend. I hate this new policy. Homework for kindergartners is—uh, what’s this?”
Rachel stood staring at the glasses and the wine and looked up at him. Jake had used the corkscrew when he got home, careful to avoid some unmasculine display, just in case. He uncorked the bottle and began to pour them each a glass.
“It’s a special occasion.” He offered her a glass of wine.
“It is?” She lifted the glass to her nose.
He waiting, watching her sip it, her eyes surprised as she took her first taste. “It’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yes… but what’s the occasion?” Rachel sat at the kitchen table, toeing off her heels. As often as she complained about them, she still wore them, and Jake liked imagining her standing in front of a classroom of kindergarteners in those heels.
Brynn bounded down the stairs, interrupting the moment, swinging a bag over her shoulder as she kissed Jake’s cheek and then her mother’s. “I’ll be at Tina’s — bye!” Like a whirlwind she was gone and they were alone again.
Rachel raised her eyebrows at him. “Special occasion?”
Jake took a gulp of his wine. “Go look upstairs.”
“What did you do?” Rachel stood and set her glass on the counter.
“Let’s just say it’s…naughty…” He stood, too, and put his arms around her waist, kissing the creamy part in the middle of her auburn hair. She raised her eyes to meet his and Jake felt an urge kiss her full, perfect mouth in a way he never had before—he wanted to smear her pale pink lipgloss over her face and grind his hips into hers until she gasped.
She was so naturally beautiful, her eyes like green glass, her cheeks already slightly pink at the mention of what she termed “naughty stuff.” It was an endearing term, and she was dear to him, her lush curves still as breathtaking as they’d been the day he married her.
She relented, grabbing her shoes and flashing him a bewildered smile as she passed. He thought of her sifting through the delicate material, discovering each like a veiled secret, layers of thin, airy material he anticipated showing her deliciously rich shape to full advantage. His pants were enormously tight, now, the anticipation almost too much, and he drained another glass of wine in one shot.
“Jake…” Rachel called to him, her voice different, throaty. He straightened, putting his glass down on the counter and heading through the kitchen door. He stopped when he turned the corner and looked up the stairs, seeing her wearing nothing but the body stocking and a pair of heels — the very same ones she stood and taught kindergarten in every day.
“Oh my god…” Jake didn’t have any more words. Her pale, creamy flesh showing through the fine mesh had all of his attention.
“Like it?” She cocked her head, her hair spilling like fire over her exposed, generous breasts, and smiled. “I sure do…”
Jake didn’t answer. He bounded eagerly up the stairs. This time he, too, took them two at a time, knowing there was most definitely something special waiting for him at the top.
Peering under her arm Rachel see Jake unzip himself urgently with his other hand, letting his trousers and boxies fall to reveal his amazingly huge hardness.
It feels slightly odd, the almost-but-not-quite skin-on-skin through the gaps in the lace. He’s there, fully inside, but the rest of him isn’t. It’s just his cock Rachel feel, while his body ghosts nearby, not quite tangible apart from the push-her pull-him of his thrusts. Propped on one elbow as he pound her. Rachel can’t see his face but try and imagine his expression as he look at her, hunched there, clad in black lace. His hands creep over the thin fabric, inch round and under to where her boobs are hammocked in nylon. Fingers tug at the scoop neck, widen it and caress her nipples, take hold while he start thrusting again.
It’s almost a vibrator kind of sensation, just something inside and not much else besides the gentle grip of his hands, pretending to be a bra, and the rocking rhythm they have. It lulls her into lust… what was that he said about just being penis while Rachel’s just cunt? Separated from him by the bodystocking, except where their sexes meet, that’s almost how it feels. Raw isolated intercourse, partitioned penetration. It’s wild and fun, like he taking her quickly and quietly unseen over the bosses’ desk at work, but while Rachel enjoy being fucked over the stairs by just his cock, she miss the warm reassuring touch of the rest of him.
With a moaning gasp, he cum fast and furious through the bodystocking, squelching slushily and soaking the stretchy slit. It’s nice to be filled but better to be felt. Clenching my thighs together as he withdraw so his rapid release doesn’t leak out too much, and hobbling up the last few steps, Rachel finally get him to the bedroom and peel off the slightly-soaked stocking as he lose the rest of his clothes.
“Not keeping it on?” he ask, “I really rather enjoyed that… “
“I know, Jake darling.” Rachel purr, pondering his sharp sudden climax, looking at the dribbles of aftersex on the lacy mesh.