Tonight was the night I was going to give my man a treat. He had a high-stress job, and he worked hard every day. Every night that he came home, which would usually be very late, he would immediately reach for a beer in the fridge, sit down on the couch in front of the TV, and watch whatever was on until he finished his beer and drifted off. I would sit down next to him and stroke his hair. He loved that. He loved the comfort that I could give him every night when he came home exhausted. He loved how I could recharge his batteries so he could face another day, and provide such a wonderful lifestyle for us. I wanted to make him happy in any way I could, and I did.
Tonight, though, was going to be extra special. He told me he was going to be home at 8 o'clock sharp. I knew I could count on that. I didn't have the kind of man who said he would be home one time, only to come home hours later with lame apologies about having some other work to do, or some social event, and that he forgot to call, or that he tried to call but he couldn't reach me. Not my man. When he said he was coming home at 8, that's when he would be home.
So, when it was 8 p.m., I was waiting in our bedroom, wearing a tight-fitting little black dress, with spaghetti straps at the top, and high-heel black shoes. He told me he loved me in that outfit, and every time he saw me in it, his pants bulged just a little to prove it.
I heard the key turn in the lock, heard him step inside, heard him go to the refrigerator, and then walk to the sofa in our living room. I waited for him to turn on the TV. That's when I made my move.
I walked from the bedroom, down the hallway, and into our living room, crossing my legs over each time, slinking along like a cat in heat. He noticed me the moment I entered the room, and he started to smile, because he knew he was in for a treat. He turned off the TV as I strutted in front of him, his eyes glued to me. It was exhilarating to watch him drink in and admire my scantily-clad body. I sat down on the sturdy mahogany coffee table right in front of him, and moved his beer to the side.
"You won't need this to relax," I said.
I crossed my legs in front of him, and looked at his magnificent, handsome face. The face of a dominant man. I was getting wet just looking at him. He had already taken his suit jacket off, leaving only a thin dress shirt and slacks. I could see his strong muscles through the thin cotton of his shirt.
His gaze fell to my feet first, and my black high-heel shoes. Then he slowly looked up towards my calves, my thighs, my hips, my chest, and finally my face. His breathing was getting deeper and deeper. He inhaled deeply through his nose to pick up my scent.
"Hey baby," he said, in a deep bass baritone. "What's the occasion?"
"You," I answered.
I bit my lip in anticipation of the pleasure we were both to receive. I uncrossed my legs, and then rubbed them against each other. I could see the bulge in his pants growing larger, and stronger.
"Me?" he asked.
"You," I said. "You treat me so right. Now I want to treat you right."
He was speechless at that. He leaned back and relaxed, not knowing what I had in store for him.
I smiled wide, and bit down on my finger teasingly, and then I moaned. I was putting on a show for him, and he was loving every second of it. I leaned forward and ran my hands through his hair. He ran his hands through mine. I gently pulled his hands away.
"Nuh uh," I teased. "No touching." I was going to torture him, tease him. We had done it so many times, so quickly. Tonight I wanted to make him wait, watch his desire rise and rise, so that his final release would be that much more powerful.
"That's not fair," he protested. "You can touch me, but I can't touch you."
I put my finger to his lips. "Shhh," I whispered. "I'll decide what's fair."
He sat back again, and let me take control. Most times, he would take control in the bedroom. But tonight, it was my turn. I was going to command him with a little black dress and a smile.
I ran my fingers through my silken hair, which I freshly washed with a vanilla scent, just for tonight. I lifted my hair up and let it fall to my shoulders. He watched my hair bounce, hypnotized by its power. I moaned again for him, and just by moaning, and watching his reactions, I was getting excited myself. I brought my hands down to my thighs. I desperately wanted his hands on my thighs. I wanted his hands all over me. I wanted his naked muscles against my flesh. But I knew what would happen then. The moment he touched me, I would be helpless. And I needed to stay in control for the fun I was going to have, watching him squirm in torture as I teased him.
I stood up. Now, with me standing and him sitting, his handsome face was right in front of my pussy. He moved his head forward to try to kiss my wet pussy over my panties. He started to hike up my dress. I wanted it badly. My pussy was aching for him. But not yet. Now wasn't the right time. I pushed his head back, and he let the back of his head fall into the couch. He looked up at me with childlike delight. I kept rubbing my thighs and moaning. He was thrilled by this unexpected tease I was performing for him.
I pulled down my dress. "No touching," I repeated. "Don't make me say it a third time," I teased.
"Yes ma'am," he said, with a smile that lit up his eyes. He was playing along now. This was going to be fun.
"You make me so wet," I moaned. "Mmmmm." I bit my finger again, gently.
I looked down to see how turned on he was. His pole was lifted full height, practically breaking his pants in two. Those pants would be off soon enough, before they broke under the strain. But I was going to make him stretch those pants a little more first.
I slipped off the spaghetti straps from my shoulders, letting my dress fall to my ankles. All I had on were my panties and my high-heel black shoes. I wasn't wearing a bra for this special occasion. He gazed at me in my naked splendor, and could not believe his eyes. He was transfixed, speechless, and dumb. His adjusted his hips up, down, to the side. He kept trying to find a comfortable position to sit still, but there was no adjustment that would fix his condition. He was agitated at the sight of me. I was impressed by his self-control. In his eyes was a fire so strong I was surprised he didn't leap from the couch and drag me by my hair to the bedroom, like a caveman. Not that I would have minded if he did that. But he was still in control of himself, just barely.
"You're so good to me," I whispered, as I came close to his ear. "I want to be good to you." I unbuttoned each of the buttons on his shirt, slowly, one by one. I slid the shirt off him. He reached his hands up to grab my breasts. I put his hands back against the couch.
"Naughty, naughty," I said. "You keep your hands to yourself, you bad boy." I took my hands and placed them on his broad shoulders. Then I brought my hands down over his firm, solid chest. Brought my fingers over the ridges of his well-defined six-pack abs. Then, I looked down at the enormous bulge in his pants. It was pulsating. I could practically hear it begging me, "Let me out! Let me out!"
