1. Charcoal Pinstripes


    Date: 10/10/2017, Categories: Group Sex, Author: Metilda, Rating: 11, Source: LushStories

    little sex comment to the salesman. No, Ru was never that shallow. I’m sure the whole transition from military to civilian was more stressful than I can imagine. He was taking on a new lifestyle, not just a new career. Instead of confronting him, I let things go. Chapter 2 Morning came and brought with it a load of regret. Next to me, the bed was empty. Ru left the house sometime before I woke, leaving only a text message: 'Back in a bit'. I dressed for the day in a little summer number that Ruben loved the most, and put a pot on to brew. You know, the whole morning routine thing, but I still felt out of sync and couldn’t focus on my next editing project. Ru didn’t return my texts, so eventually I made my way back to bed, coffee in hand, feeling like total and utter crap. Cold coffee now sitting on the side table, after what felt like hours, the bedroom door slowly opened. I jolted upright. My heart raced violently for no reason. It was only him, it was only Ruben, but my hands were shaking. Maybe it was because of the suit he was dressed in. Of course! He took a trip to Cloverfield’s to pick up his suit. I was so wrapped up in my own internal humiliation that I forgot he paid for the tailor to prioritize the job. And here I was thinking he was ignoring me on purpose. How stupid. He looked divine, too, sleek and together with his charcoal and pinstripes, those satin-shined cap toe oxfords. Seeing him like that was a new thrill. I wanted to touch him, slip the belt from ...
    its loops and slide my hand along the smooth of his stomach. I smiled, nervous. When he didn’t return the smile I was drawn up short. His eyes were still soft, though, so I knew he at least wasn’t angry with me. So then . . . ? He walked to the end of the bed with measured steps. It was then that I saw the kerchief tucked inside the lapel pocket and it wasn’t the silver one I picked out. He freed the crumple of sheer red lace from his pocket and trailed it through his fingers, his eyes on me. I sat up on my knees in the middle of the bed, a shiver running through me. Bondage play? “Do you remember last year?” he asked. I frowned, that was vague. “What about last year?” “When you first told me that you enjoyed editing erotica?” My mouth fell open, just a little, and my breath caught on the knot in my throat. “Yes.” I remembered it all too clearly. I took on one erotica editing project as a favor for a friend. It had a small ménage scene, it wasn’t much of one, but it was there. It didn’t fit with the story overall and I stressed about telling her to cut the scene from the story. She did, but I kept a copy in a file of my favorite excerpts. Sort of breaking the sacred editing vow, but it was for my personal pleasure only. Ruben was the only one who knew I hoarded snippets like that. I hoped he’d forget, but apparently he didn’t. “Do you remember,” he continued, “the conversation we had about it?” The scarf slipped through his fingers again. Realization slapped into me, zinging ...
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