by Sylvia Ryan
I have what every other man on the planet is looking for–deep, true contentment. I see the poor idiots at work, putting in their nine to five, playing golf to get away from their wives on the weekend and soaking up the beer and garbage food in front of whatever’s on ESPN the rest of the time.
I’m so fucking lucky it scares me. Truly scares me.
I finish setting up the last chair and only a few minutes later, the first of the thirty or so guests we’ll have for the day arrives. Before I know it, the party is in full swing. Kids scream as they swing from the tire hanging out over the edge of the lake. I man my grill as I do every year, and it’s one of the hotspots of the party. It never fails. Wherever there’s a grill going, most of my male relatives will be standing close to it. Today, I have two raring to go. One is strictly for corn on the cob and the other is filled to the brim with hamburgers and hotdogs.
I scan the crowd from time to time. I’ve barely seen either one of my daughters all day. They’re having a blast with the dozen or so cousins hanging out by the lake. I find it amusing that when I look for Mia, even though her back is turned, she can feel my gaze. Not once have I sought her out without her turning to meet it.
“Food’s done,” I yell to the crowd as I’m stacking the meat onto a serving plate. In less than a minute, there are at least a dozen people standing around the food table, loading their paper plates with the classic summer fare.
When Ella asks me if she can take some pictures of everybody on my phone, I have no problem with it. Both girls have been chomping at the bit for cell phones of their own, which we’ve discussed getting for them soon. But, for now, I have no problem with them using mine. Mia is a little stingier with hers.
When I hear Ella asking, “What the hell is this?” I turn my head immediately. Neither one of my girls talk like that, and I’m ready to give her a disapproving look when I see her holding up my cellphone. And then my stomach drops as I see her handing the phone over to my sister. I don’t have to look to know what’s on the screen. It’s the picture of Mia’s beautifully marked ass from the first day she willingly submitted to me. I look to see where Mia is as I stride quickly over to my sister, Deb. She’s laughing, and before I get to her, she hands the phone to my brother’s wife. I’ve found Mia, and she’s watching the handoff from one woman to the other, and the look on her face as my sister looks up and meets her gaze, is…abject mortification. What’s happening to me is an interesting warp of time and space as, before my eyes, it’s all happening in slow-motion, but at the same time, everything is moving too fast for me to get there.
By the time I get to my phone, at least two other people have seen the picture and my daughter is asking Mia if it was her in the picture. Our gazes crash together in the split second before I grab my phone out of my sister-in-law’s hand and tell Ella to beat it.
I play it as off the cuff as I can, announcing dinner loud and clear. There’s a beat or two of silence before everybody starts in the direction of the food.
I turn and look toward Mia and my heart lurches at the expression on her face. She looks like she’s going to cry. “You didn’t protect me,” she accused with her gaze.
I see little of Mia as the day progresses. When I do see her, she’s working, putting food away or cleaning up. Then, after dark, she disappears completely.
It’s late when the last of the family leaves. I’ve been telling people she’s had a headache for the last few hours, when anyone has asked. Now I walk through the house, picking up and turning off lights. The twins are already upstairs, sleepwalking to their mattresses.
Her car is here. She couldn’t be far. Up in our bedroom, I look out over our backyard. The moon is almost full. The bullfrogs croak in tune with the crickets making up this ideal summer night. And then I see her. She’s merely a flaw on the surface of the lake where the moonlight reflects.
I can’t stop myself from following her there, and as I schlep down the slope of the back yard, it occurs to me I’d follow her anywhere.
I step over the shorts and tank top she’s shed on the dock.
Mia’s floating on her back in the water, looking up at the magnificent night sky. God she’s beautiful. My gaze fixes on her as I advance and remove my clothes too. As I near her on the creaky planking, my mind races, trying to figure out how to make this right between us. I need her to not regret the direction our sex life has taken. I’ll reject any self-condemnation or shame from her because of the way we choose to love each other.
I sink into the cool liquid a minute later, submerging my entire body. The relief I feel as the hot day dissolves away is exhilarating.
“Mia.”
She lifts her head from her back float and stands. I move closer to her until our bodies sway against each other. I place my arms on either side of her, trapping her between a leg of the pier and my body. I’m close enough to her that, even in the darkness, I see the insecurity in her eyes.
“What’s worrying you?”
“I don’t want anyone to look at me differently, with less respect or…People don’t understand, Levi. Do you know what I’m trying to say?”
“Yes, babe, and I wish you didn’t care. I’m the only one you have to please in this relationship, and you are absolutely perfect for me, always have been, always will be.” I dip my head forward and kiss her with tenderness. An almost inaudible moan thrums into my mouth. I draw back. “God, I love you.” I kiss her again.
Our bodies are so close that we bump and skim against each other as the water laps against us.
I wrap an arm around the only woman in my world. The skin on her back feels slippery under my hand. But instead of lifting her lips toward mine again, she rests her forehead on my shoulder.
“Are you okay?” I whisper while I run a hand up and down the smooth curve of her lower back.
“Mmm-hmm.”
My cock grows rigid pressed firmly between us, yet I know she’s not ready for everything I want from her. “Come on, I’ll help you get out of the water.”
“No.” Her tone is emphatic. “Just let me…” She trails off and sighs. “I’m a little thrown. I never imagined we’d be outed like this. The girls–”
“I don’t care what they think.” I breathe the words against the curve of her neck. “I care about the fact I’m madly in love with my wife and with our life together.”
Mia lifts her head and smiles tenderly at me. The sickening squeeze in my stomach lessens and I know we’re okay. When I dip my head again, she meets me halfway. Her kiss is harder, more urgent. She wraps her arms tightly around me, which, essentially, digs my hard-on deeper into the pliant flesh of her stomach. I groan, relishing the feel of the cock sandwich. Mia lowers an arm and grabs my ass, kneading it and grinding me into her.
“Mia, I’m not going to be able to stop,” I warn her, and she wraps her legs around my hips.
“Good.”
Her answer opens the floodgates. She nudges my ass with her heels and I can’t help but chuckle. “I’m going to have to train some patience into you.” And then I follow her lead and enter her in one smooth slide. “Shit, you feel good.”
“You sound surprised.” The amusement is plain in her voice.
I move us a few feet to shallower water, turn Mia around, and lift her off me only to re-enter her when her back is sliding against my stomach. I reach out between her legs and explore. The pads of my fingers brush just outside her pussy, where the base of my cock meets her folds. I start a slow, advance and retreat inside her, one hand fondling her clit and the other holding her tight against me. Tonight I want to tell her all the soft, loving feelings that bloom out of my gut when I know she needs me, when I’m the one she turns to even if it’s my stupidity that makes her need comforting in the first place.
She rests her head back on my shoulder and looks up toward the sky and I feel the tension flow away from her. Our lovemaking is slow, and sweet. It’s been a long time since gentle sex turned me on, but I’m smart enough to know a
fter all these years what Mia needs and when she needs it.
I rhythmically strum my fingers over her clit in time with my dick.
“Oh God.” She stills. Moments later, her pretty pussy chokes and quivers around my cock while she rides the apex of her orgasm.
When the strongest of her peak has passed, she lies back against my chest, floating on my cock while I surge into her again and again. I bite her shoulder and then my free arm joins the other, wrapping around her and trapping her closer. I’m at the end of my control, and I burst inside her with one last advance of my cock and low roar in my chest.
Mia
I’ve been looking forward to this Friday afternoon with unbridled anticipation. Because of the long Christmas holiday, Levi and I did not meet last week. He gave me his “no masturbating” mandate more than ten days ago, and I’m more than anxious to relieve my sexual frustration.
Pulling into the driveway, I see he’s arrived home first. For some reason, I need a deep breath. As I let it out, I already feel some relief from the tension that’s been riding me.
I walk in, expecting Levi to be chomping at the bit like I am. Instead, I find him relaxed and reading in the family room. When he looks up, the glint in his eyes tells me he’s in full Dom mode, serious and intense.
“Strip,” is the only word he gives me. I comply happily, even though I’m a little confused by his apathetic approach to this time alone. It’s been a long time in coming and somehow I expected more of a frenzy, with clothes ripping off and his hands all over me. I smile and my nipples pop to attention just thinking about it.
After I’ve taken my clothes off, I approach and kneel next to his chair. My heart races. I’m wired, like an addict waiting for her fix. The seconds tick in slow motion as he continues with his book. I feel the beginnings of disappointment take root in the pit of my stomach. This is not at all what I expected. I stick my lower lip out to pout a little bit, hoping he’ll see it, even though I know pouting never gets me what I want. Actually, it usually gets me the opposite. I suck my lip in fast and hope he hasn’t seen my pout.
A second later, Levi’s palm meets the top of my head. His fingers sift absently through my hair. I feel starved for his attention. I want to jump into his lap and rub myself all over him, like a cat. Showing super human amounts of restraint, I relax into his hand instead. After some time, the pop of the book snapping closed startles me. I’ve been lulled into complacency by the slight caresses of his hand through my hair. It startles me how little it takes for Levi to have me pliant, kneeling at his hand, and willing to do absolutely anything he wants.
I look up at him as he stands and moves to a bag resting on the coffee table.
“Stand up.” He removes a strap-like contraption.
I comply again and watch as he encircles my waist with the thing. I have no idea what it is until he pulls out the biggest vibrator I’ve ever seen. It’s the kind available at any store, marketed as a wand massager. He crooks a finger at me after he plugs it into the wall socket. I approach. My heart thunders.
“On your knees, spread them wide.”
I kneel on the hardwood floor.
“Face the chair.” He points to the one he was reclining in when I arrived. The vibrating wand starts at a low buzz and Levi’s arms encircle me from behind. He cradles the huge “massager” into the strappy thing he’s buckled around my waist.
After a few adjustments, he has it placed over my clit. The rounded head is so big, it spans the distance between my clit and my entrance.
Levi checks the placement a few times, lifts my chin so I’m looking directly at the recliner and walks away from me. I gasp as I realize he’s going to leave me on my knees, looking at him with this massive vibrator slowly eating away my self-control.
“You may come whenever you need to,” he says after he rests back into the easy chair. He picks up his book and begins reading again.
I don’t understand what’s going on. If he’d rather read all he has to do is tell me so. But I don’t question. I don’t voice a complaint.
I look down at the contraption he’s burdened me with.
“Look at me.” He hasn’t even looked up from his book, but he corrects me all the same.
I’m nearing an orgasm. It doesn’t take long to get me there. I’d been working myself up for this time alone with him most of the week. I moan my opposition to what’s happening here. The sound prompts Levi to place his book in his lap. He watches me intently. A slight smile plays over his face.
“You look a bit flummoxed,” he says with mock concern in his tone.
I moan again. My climax is imminent. The muscles in my thighs tremble as I try to remain still despite the burning urge to grind myself into the wand and come. After ten seconds, I do it anyway.
Sweet relief washes over me. I’ve trapped the wand between my body and the floor and the grip of the orgasm forces me rigid as it courses through me. My pussy seems to convulse forever. When it’s over, I feel some small satisfaction that I’ve cheated and gotten off when he probably wanted to tease me.
When it’s over, I’m out of breath. I look up at him with contented expectation and a little bit of brattiness thrown in for good measure. I’m satisfied. He’s not.
I receive a full ten seconds eye to eye while he smiles at me with a satisfied, powerful grin. His eyes are actually sparkling and I feel as if the devil himself looks at me through those eyes. He takes my breath away. Literally, I don’t breathe. We’re locked together, yet feet away from each other. It’s a moment in time I’ll remember until I pass from this earth. I’m his. Every part of me down to the last cell in his.
The vibrator turns uncomfortable now, kind of ticklish.
I’m coated with sweat. The hair at the nape of my neck sticks to the hot, moist skin there. I look at him, waiting for him to do something. Still seconds pass and then the vibration begins to feel good. I notice the evil spark of satisfaction in his expression when he sees the arousal begin to build. Within the span of a few seconds, I’m near coming again.
Then I experience a moment of clarity. He’s trying to win the fuck bet. A full smile explodes on his face as he sees the exact moment I put the whole scenario together.
Shit, shit, shit! There is no way I’m losing this wager. I want to experience two men so badly. And I know this bet will be the only chance I ever get. I grit my teeth together and try to ignore the climax building exponentially at my core. The more I try to tense my muscles against the barrage, the closer I get to coming. And then, against my will, my body reacts to the stimulation.
“Fuck,” I wail, long and loud. My circuits overload and my whole body trembles. It’s too much sensation. Tears stream down my upward-turned face.
When it’s over, I’m in agony. I open my eyes and use them to plead. My mouth is too busy sobbing to ask.
Our gazes meet and lock.
“I win,” he says quietly. But he doesn’t move to relieve me of the contraption. I shrink away from the buzzing between my legs as much as I possibly can. I’m shaking visibly now.
“God, Levi, please.” I groan.
He ignores me, raises his book and begins reading.
I raise my hands to remove it myself.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Levi, please!” I whine as my body abruptly spasms with another orgasm. I’m ready to push my face into the floor at his feet when the vibration stops. I roll from my knees to my side and curl up in a fetal position.
My body feels weird. I’m an elastic band that’s been stretched too far.
I’m a quivering Jell-O mold.
I’m so relaxed I begin to fall asleep.
Levi takes off the contraption, lifts me from the floor and moves to his chair, sitting with me snuggled in his lap. He hugs me and rocks me and then gathers up my hair, pulling it away from my neck and blowing on the moist skin. His lips are close to my ear, brushing my hair gently.
“Make sure you make arrangements fo
r the girls to spend next weekend with your sister.” He looks down at me, eyes blazing. “I can’t wait for next Friday afternoon.”
Other Lyrical Books By Sylvia Ryan
Being Amber
New Atlanta Series, Book 1
Being Sapphire
New Atlanta Series, Book 2
About Sylvia Ryan
I know. I know. This was not the typical Sylvia Ryan book. There were no end-of- the-world-as-we-know-it scenarios or alpha male supermen. There wasn’t even new love. What you got was an already married couple in a long term relationship. Bleh! Am I right?
Well obviously, I wrote Friday Afternoon anyway. Mostly because I couldn’t not write it.
Simply put, I was inspired. And I wanted the reader to become inspired too. Going from drab to fab in the bedroom can be a game changer. It’s never too late to inject some exuberance, some experiments, some play– unless things are fabulous already, and in that case…nice going!
Everybody else, let’s get some clothes flying off, create some sizzle and recapture romance because stable and comfortable are great words to describe a marriage, but not so much when describing what goes on behind closed doors. How about different words like frenzied and wild instead?
For me, Friday Afternoon is a reminder that sometimes all it takes to re-kindle the passion is a small chunk of time and the willingness to try something new.
And the rewards…Oh God, the rewards…
Friday Afternoon
9781616504816
Copyright © September 2013, Sylvia Ryan
Edited by Antonia Tiranth
Book design by Lyrical Press, Inc.
Cover Art by Renee Rocco
First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: September 2013
Lyrical Press, Incorporated
http://www.lyricalpress.com
eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
