Erotic | Relationships
Dermot Indulges his Guilty Pleasure
He loves it, she hates it, but he does it anyway
“I can smell your pussy,” he whispers in my ear.
“Good,” I whisper back. “I’m so horny.”
As soon as the lights flicker off again, he grabs my cunt and arse like a bowling ball. His other hand tugs at my breast in the cruel way he knows I like. It feels dirty and exciting to be fondled in a public train carriage. All too soon the lights come back on and his hands are gone.
“Do the lights go off a lot?” I murmur to him.
“I hope so!” he growls in my ear.
The edging continues each time the train lights flicker off: he pinches at my nipples or fingers my cunt. Soon, I’m so drunk with desire that he has to remind me to pull my dress and cover my bare breast. The plush train seat is wet with my juices. I don’t look at the other passengers. For me, there’s just him and whatever he wants to do with me: his fuck toy, his hot wife. I would kneel down in front of him and suck his straining cock if he’d let me.
Dermot lay back on the sofa, an erotic novel spread open in his lap leaving him one free hand to encompass his stiff cock, which he gently pumped up and down. He luxuriated in the sensation of his foreskin slipping and stretching from frenulum to base. Reading the erotic story enhanced his arousal.
He could visualise the fictional couple getting carried away with their heavy petting on the train. He wished he could persuade his wife to try sex somewhere more adventurous than the bedroom.
Dermot wondered, if he bought a vibrator, would his wife entertain the idea of him using it on her?
She would look so beautiful with her thighs spread and anatomical silicone toy sliding in and out of her, it didn’t have to be crazy dimensions or shaped like a tentacle or something other-worldy. But yeah, that would be so fucking sexy!
He let his head drop back while his thumb and forefinger circled his helmet. With the pad of his thumb he smeared the slippery clear pre-cum over the humming nerve endings in his cock’s smooth dome.
Already the pressure was building within his core, his thighs and torso tightened and Dermot felt a pleasant tingling throughout his groin, a sure sign of the onset of his climax.
Suddenly he heard a creak, it was the unmistakable tread of an adult, followed by heavy footfalls on the stairs. Dermot leaped to his feet, hastening to tuck his straining cock back into his tracksuit bottoms. The book spilled from his lap and onto the floor.
Shit! He needed to hide that. Dermot knew full well his wife’s opinions about reading porn (don’t, never ever, it’s disgusting!)
Where could he hide it? He scuttled into the kitchen but surveyed the array of doors in a panic. She was coming to make breakfast for the children, he couldn’t think of a single cupboard she might not open.
Hearing the third step from the bottom’s distinctive creak, Dermot made a snap decision. With an upward flick, he boosted the paperback book in the air to land, with a soft thud, on top of the wall mounted cupboards.
The book was out of sight and out of reach, just in time. The kitchen door swung open, revealing his pyjama-clad wife in the doorway.
“What are you doing up so early?” She asked.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I came downstairs to make myself a cup of tea, rather than disturb you.”
Luckily Dermot had done this; the still-warm kettle and a mug with tea dregs was evidence of his spin on the truth.
“Let me get the kids’ lunches ready, then I’ll grab a shower.”
He smiled at his wife, who still looked bemused.
Dermot busied himself making sandwiches and packing snacks facing the counter, while his erection subsided. He congratulated himself that quick thinking had resulted in his near miss. He and his porn secret would survive to play another day.
However, when the time came for the kitchen to be re-decorated, Dermot supposed he had better take the traditional male role and offer to do it without any assistance from his wife.
If you’re interested in the book Dermot was reading — it is The Gift — an anthology of 13 bold erotic short stories, including mine: I [heart] Paris
Posy Churchgate is based in the UK & writes |Fiction : Romantic, Erotic, Fantasy |Non fiction : sexuality, relationships |Editor for Tantalizing Tales, she supports new talent. More content on FrolicMe.com & Tickle.life
Using this link for Medium membership will support her directly, plus giving you access to all Medium’s great content. Use this link to receive an email ensuring Posy’s latest stories come directly to your inbox.
