"Buy a house with an east-facing bedroom," they said. "You'll rise with the sun and your day will always start with brightness," they said. "They were not night owls," mused Clara as she pulled the covers over her head. Stretching her lazy muscles, she fondly remembered the evening she had with her boyfriend the day prior.
They'd cooked together, moving easily around the kitchen after months of practice living together, listening to some jazz quartet or another. James used to be a musician but as his day job took over he had become an avid listener in the evening. She couldn't always remember names though she had to admit he had good taste.
Every now and then, in a lull between his chopping and her stirring, James would turn her to face him and press her back into the counter. His hands would start at her waist and gently explore her, looking into her eyes with love until their lips were brushing each other and opened into a warm kiss. Clara's arms would wrap comfortably around his neck and his wandering fingers would trace patterns on her back just under her lifted shirt, or stroke the back of her neck, or pull her up to sit on the counter by gripping her cheeks. They loved to kiss, whether it was slow, gentle, emotional, or fierce, heated, and wet. Wrapping her legs around him, or pulling him into her hips, she would always feel him harden at her kisses, fueling her passion for him. Even a few moments into a soft, sweet kiss, Clara could expect a hard, sweet gesture of his body's reaction waiting for her attention.
Other times, she would pull her man into her by his cheeks or his waist, tangling her fingers in his hair and locking lips with him. James would sigh into her lips, kissing her back with just the right force, enthusiasm, tenderness, it did things to her. When they were intimate like this, spending their time comfortably together and showing emotional and physical affection with such ease, she felt butterflies in her stomach. Her muscles would yearn to wrap around his body, and her core would ache for him, flowing generously to dampen her panties. And then he'd palm her chest, or squeeze her cheek, or kiss her neck, eliciting a sweet moan from her lips as she pressed tight into his body and seeking more friction against her heat.
Just as easily and naturally as they started, they would slow down and pull apart. Fires stoked, he would smile at her blushing face and she'd tame the mess her fingers had made of his hair. Not quite innocently, they'd go back to preparing their meal with caresses, touches, and little teases in between until the next time they found a lull and pressed into each other all over again. Sometimes their fire and frenzy nearing the end of their meal preparation was enough for Clara to rock herself to an orgasm against his hips, but yesterday, she had not been so lucky. And so as they took their plates and cuddled together on the couch to eat with a movie, they were both very aware of their mutual excitement and frustration.
As comfortable as they were together like that, dinner passed quickly and with a few laughs at the sitcom on TV. By the time the credits were rolling, James was tossing off the blanket and pushing Clara up back into the kitchen so they could clean up in haste. Setting their plates down by the sink, she playfully lifted her tank up and over her head, sensually swaying her hips and giving him a little show to excite him once again. When it cleared her eyes, she could see his hands reaching for her waist, and then his eyes glued to her small, soft breasts framed by her bralette. Cupping them both and wetly kissing her neck briefly, he turned her around and pinned her to the counter in front of the sink with his hardness pressing between her cheeks. Two could play the teasing game.
As she washed and placed the dishes in the drying rack, James would take them one by one and dry them to one side. Conveniently, the dry dishes belonged in a cabinet just over the sink. Each dish gave him a reason to press into his girlfriend's cheeks and slide up her body to reach above her and to return it to its place. On the way down, he'd sometimes feign a loss of balance and grip her sides just below her breasts, dragging his fingers down to her hips as his body did the same down her back. Clara could just stand there and feel her breath quicken as the sensations gave her goosebumps and opened her floodgates just an inch further. By the time the dishes were done, James was fighting not to make a mess of his boxers, and Clara was overwhelmed with affection and excitement.