Tony heard the faint, familiar jangle of keys, the opening and closing of the apartment door. Samantha was home, and it was very late. 3am? He was afraid to look at the clock.
Sam had been out with friends at a bar or a restaurant, which she did every now and again. Despite it being Friday, Tony hadn't had any plans of his own that evening. He'd spent the night laying around the apartment, fixing a serviceable meal, watching a ballgame on television, feeling lonely.
He was lying in bed now, clad in his usual sleepware of white tank top and boxer briefs, reading a book and sipping a glass of red wine. Or rather, trying to read a book - he'd spent the last hour or so debating whether to brush his teeth, turn off the light and call it a night, or stay up to see Sam, whenever it was she got home. He was eager to see her after another long work week.
Now she was home and he was glad he'd waited. Samantha came into the bedroom, her purse in one hand, a removed pair of high heels dangling in the other.
"You're still up!"
"I wanted to see you," Tony explained, as Sam set her things down on the floor, rather randomly.
"Ohhhh, you're such a sweetie." Sam came over to the bed to plant a wet kiss on him before walking over to her closet, unbuttoning her blouse.
She's a little tipsy, Tony mused to himself. He thought he could taste the alcohol on her lips, or at least the bitterness of cigarettes, and Samantha never smoked unless she'd really been drinking. It was the way she dropped her things so sporadically, the fullness of her kiss, wetter than usual, and her subtle little sashay towards the closet, pulling her blouse over her head and tossing it to the floor.
"Had a few to drink?" Tony kidded her.
"Meee?" she replied playfully. With a coy look over her shoulder, she stuck her butt out and pulled her bright red jeans - and her panties with them - down slowly, half-way, giving him a teasing view of her ass crack and the rounded tops of her cheeks. Her playful, uninhibited mannerisms stirred a sudden warmth in his groin, but he watched after her disappointed as she laughed quietly to herself and turned her attention away from him to continue undressing in utilitarian fashion.
Tony didn't stop looking. He kept sneaking glances at her half-naked body as she undressed, pretending to read his book. He admired the smooth caramel-colored expanse of her back, turned to him, as she unsnapped and dropped her bra, then followed the flesh of each leg as Sam pulled them out of her jeans. Three years they'd been together, half of that spent living together, and it was an intimate, familiar view he never grew tired of. She was fit and healthy, a bit of a gym rat - an interest they shared in common, since he worked as a personal trainer. But whereas he was nearing 30 and was a wiry Chinese American, for Sam, as a 35 year old with a white mother and black father, age and genes were catching up to her. As toned and slim as she kept her upper body, everything at the waist stayed plump, round and curvy.
Tony knew she was self-conscious about it, but he absolutely loved it. He coveted the soft thickness of her thighs and legs, tapering at her calves, and the round contours of her big butt, outlined behind the fabric of her black panties. It really was a thing of beauty - too big to be contained by the bikini-cuts, billowing out of the bottoms and creasing against her thighs when she stood again. After pulling on a pair of plaid pajama pants and tossing on an over-sized gray tee shirt, she walked to the bathroom, seemingly unaware of Tony's licentious attention. He watched after her, biting his lip at the evident bounce of her ass through the thin pajamas.
It was very late, but he hoped she wasn't too tired - or too drunk - for sex. He set his book on the side table and slid a hand under the sheets, stroking himself and feeling his hardness grow. Aroused, he knocked back the remaining wine in one gulp, climbed out of bed, and headed to the bathroom.
...
When he came through the door, Samantha was hunched over her sink, rubbing the mascara out of her eyes. She had been all dolled up for her night out. He didn't care if she wore make-up, but Tony generally preferred her face in the same way he preferred her body - naked and natural. Sam had big round eyes that scarcely needed eyeliner to accentuate, and her large full lips only made lipstick gratuitous.
Proceeding to the second sink, Tony prepared his toothbrush and started brushing, never taking his eyes off Sam's reflection in the mirror. He was trying to read her mood. He was horny as hell, sure, but it *was* 3am. He would understand if she was only interested in shut-eye.
Her makeup finally removed, Sam dried her face off with a towel. Tony watched closely, almost staring, eager to see whether the look on her face would betray her inclinations. She finally removed the towel, revealing a wide smile - a good sign. Even better, Tony noticed her take a sidelong glance at where his half-erection tented his boxer briefs.
"What have you been doing tonight?" she asked with some suggestion.
"Ate some dinner," he half mumbled, mouth full of toothpaste. "Watched some baseball on TV." He spit into the sink. "But mostly just been missing you." He rinsed his brush and swished his mouthwash, trying his best to grin and look back at her intently in the mirror at the same time. He spit into the sink again.
"Sorry I kept you up so late. I suppose you want to go to bed now." She said it with a hint of entendre. She was teasing him - and giving him an opportunity. He didn't hesitate in taking it.
"I'm not sure I'm ready to sleep yet." He stepped over to Samantha, sliding up behind her, never breaking eye contact in the mirror. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he leaned into her ear. "Are you?"
