Couch Potatoes

It was to be a quiet night at home.

No friends, no work smuggled home in a briefcase. No ducking out to see a movie, or to do grocery shopping, or to do anything but just relax.

Just husband and wife…couch potatoes for an evening.

He settled back into the cushions of the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. She plopped down next to him, sliding up under his arm, her head resting on his chest, secure that she belonged there in his arms. Her shoes tumbled to the floor, her long legs stretching across the length of the couch, her feet hanging over the far arm. “Comfy?” he asked.

“Of course.” She snuggled against his warmth, feeling his arm drop down around her shoulders. “You?”

“Uh-huh.” She offered him the remote control, but he shook his head. “Whatever.” He said.

Unfortunately, it was one of those nights where absolutely nothing of interest was on. Neither of them cared for any of the inane sitcoms that were offered, nor were any movies showing that looked even remotely intriguing. She paused on a channel that showed a group of aging rock stars, their reunion concert, playing tunes that were reminiscent of their younger days. “How’s this?”

“It’s fine.” He truly didn’t care what they watched, enjoying the fact that he simply didn’t have to be doing anything right now. The feel of his wife in his arms was pleasant, relaxing, her scent familiar and intoxicating. His fingers gently caressed her shoulder, simply touching, and allowing the pleasure of the touch to be enough. “Brings back some memories, eh?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She could hear the sound of his heart under his polo shirt, relaxing her. His touch was soothing, not sexual, spreading a soothing warmth through her body. “Though I’m sure you remember them far better than I. They had all but broken up when I started listening to music.”

He laughed good naturedly as she poked fun at their five year age difference. “Yes dear, I’m sure of that.” He poked her shoulder. “In fact, this song reminds me of Angie Meyer, my old high school sweetheart…”

“Hey!” She quickly flicked the channel, punching numbers at random. An overly exuberant voice boomed out at them, nasally describing the diamond ring that spun in the center of the screen. His chuckling rumbled against her ear, knowing he had zinged her back for the age joke. “No old girlfriend stories!” She said.

He kissed the top of her forehead; the television bounced back to the rock band, yet another familiar tune drifting out of the speakers. “Any girlfriends associated with this one?” She asked warily.

Not to worry, you’re my only girlfriend now and forever. He cupped his hand under her breast, rubbing his thumb across the nipple. To his delight, it began hardening immediately. “You feel very good.” He told her.

“Really? And you just like touching me, I suppose?”

“Always” Palm flat, he rubbed across her stomach and her hip again, stretching his fingers to touch her thigh. She hadn’t changed from the outfit she’d worn all day, a nice one piece skort outfit over dark blue tights. He liked the way she looked in it, and he liked the way the skorts fell high on her thighs because of how she sat, the thick, stretchy tights showing off her beautiful legs. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” She sighed contentedly. “You know I like having you touch me.”

He grinned. The massaging may have started out innocently, but feeling her soft body under her clothing was definitely beginning to affect him. Bringing his hand across her still hard nipple, he knew that she also was affected. Slipping his fingers through the opening between the buttons, he rubbed the soft skin of her stomach. “Oops. The button fell open.” He laughed, slipping his hand inside the outfit.

“Accidentally, I’m sure.” He heard the smile in her voice. He heard what he was listening for, the sharp intake of breath, the change in the pattern of her breathing. Letting his hand explore her body was definitely turning her on. And him as well.

Yet another button fell victim to his exploring hand, his fingers brushing the undersides of her breasts, making her laugh. “Sorry.” He said sincerely, knowing she was ticklish there. There were definitely times when he attacked that area just to tickle her, but this wasn’t one of those times. “What bra do you have on?”

She laughed again, shifting against him. “What bra do you think I have on?” She teased.

“Well…” He explored the line’s of the bra, the fabric, the lace. “Not the black see through one. That one I know too well!” He grinned. “Not the red satin one, either. No lace on that one.”

“You are truly amazing.” She teased. “You think you know my bra’s so well, you can really tell them apart, don’t you?”

“Well, dear, I have looked at and touched and removed and tasted you through all of them.” He saw a tinge of color rise in her cheeks. “You’re wearing the dark blue one.” He declared. “Right?”

“Now you know I’m not going to tell you…” She began to squirm away from him, squealing when he grabbed her. “Fine, don’t tell me!” He said. “I’ll find out myself!”

Swinging his body down to the floor, he gently pushed her down on the couch, opening the last button on her outfit and revealing the dark blue bra. “I knew it!” He cried, lowering his lips to suck on the hard nipple that showed through the lace. He let his hand wander down her legs, squeezing the inside of her thighs, massaging her body while he paid great attention to her breasts. Each gasp from her encouraged him, wrapping his mouth around as much of her breast as he could, running his tongue around her nipple. “Your bra seems to be wet.” He observed finally.

“Yes. That seems to happen when you’re around.” She grinned. Her eyes grew wide as his hand slipped up between her legs, rubbing her clitoris through her clothing. “Other parts of you seem to be wet, as well.” he teased.

“Again, that seems to happen when you’re around.” He helped her sit up, watching as she shrugged out of the top of the outfit. He liked the way her breasts jiggled in the bra, the way the dark fabric looked against her pale skin. Hooking his fingers around the outfit, he pulled it over her hips, dropping it on the floor behind him. “So you get wet down here when I’m around.” He said, pressing his face against her crotch, smelling her excitement. “Let’s see how wet I make you…”

Pulling her tights away, he slipped a finger past the crotch of her panties, sliding into her vagina, twisting it around to make her moan. Licking and kissing the inside of her thighs, he continued to stroke her, occasionally rubbing his thumb against her hard, swollen clitoris. He first orgasm happened so suddenly, he was caught of guard, watching her as she thrust her hips off the couch, the muscles of her vagina clutching at his finger. “Is this your idea of a quiet night at home?” He teased. “That was anything but quiet.”

She stuck her tongue out, and he laughed, bringing his lips down over her clitoris, sucking hungrily. There were days when he just wanted to taste her, when he just had to make her squirm for hours. Tonight was one of those nights.

He took it slow, using his tongue and his teeth to bring her to the edge time and time again before backing off, making her moan in frustration. Like a faithful puppy dog, letting his warm, wet tongue cover every inch of her vagina, driving his tongue deep inside her while his nose bumped against her clitoris.

When at last he let her orgasm, she cried out, her body convulsing and twisting against him. He held still, letting her ride out the waves, then licked and sucked her juices up, resting his head against her stomach. “Now how do you feel?” He asked.

She purred, still trying to bring her breathing under control. “I think I need to go change clothes.” She said finally.

“Okay.” He slid back, watching her toddle away. Regaining his place on the couch, he was surprised to see the old rock band had given way to an annoying cartoon. He flipped aimlessly through the channels, finally stumbling across a comedy show.

“I’m back!” She slipped back into her spot, pressing up against him. She’d put on one of his favorite teddies, very sheer with some strategically placed black lace. Crossing her legs, she placed them in his lap, and he noticed immediately that she was wearing fishnet stockings. “Miss me?”

“Oh, yes.” His hands ran up and down her legs, seeing the smirk on her face. “And just what is so funny?”

“Nothing.” She smiled. He was predictable; the stockings and teddy, she knew, would drive him over the edge. She moved her leg, rubbing it against the hard bulge in his pants. He groaned, grabbing the leg and holding it still. “That’s torture, sweetheart.”

“No… this is torture.” She knelt on the floor before him, opening his pants and freeing his hard penis. She paused for a moment, running her eyes around his stiff member, seeing the way the drops dribbled down the swollen head. Her fingers caressed the throbbing vein that ran along the underside of his penis, feeling the heat that poured off it. Licking her lips, she brought her mouth around onto his hardening member, hearing him groan when her tongue pressed against the swollen head.

She smiled around it, sliding her head down to hold the entire length in her mouth. She loved to feel his penis grow between her lips, getting thicker and longer as she made love to it with her mouth. His whimpers and cries filled the room, and she paid close attention to every sound, knowing when to continue and when to slow down her movements to drag this out. “This is torture.” He said, after a bit. She only laughed.

“Oh yes!” He cried. His fingers twisted into her hair, and for a moment, she let him control her movements, feeling bursts twitching in her mouth, knowing he was close to orgasm. Easing back, she flicked the tip of her tongue across his penis head, then blew a stream of cool air across it, stroking it gently close to her chest.

With a groan, he climaxed onto her waiting breast. He tipped her head back when it was over, looking down into her eyes. “I love you.”  Gently they together massaged the love cream into her breast.

“I love you, too!” She climbed back up on the couch, laying her head against his chest, feeling his arm go around her shoulders once again. They watched the end of the comedy show, then they tumbled into bed, exhausted. “What are the plans for tomorrow night?” She asked drowsily.

He tried to remember if they had any previous engagements, but he couldn’t think of any. “I think we should just spend another quiet evening at home.” He whispered as they fell asleep.

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