Filthy Dirty Normal, Volume 4

  Filthy Dirty Normal Volume 4

  Lexi Maxxwell

  EROS | A division of Sterling & Stone

  Contents

  Title Page

  Tie Her Up, Tie Him Down

  Screwing in Public

  Christmas Party Pleasures

  About the Author

  © 2017 Lexi Maxxwell. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help us spread the word.

  For a free ebook and news about upcoming releases, please visit leximaxxwell.com.

  Tie Her Up, Tie Him Down

  Jen had her jeans and panties around her ankles, her fingers still making slow circles around her clit in the aftershocks of an orgasm, when the noise of a long, sustained car horn broke through the aural solitude of her headphones.

  Jen snapped up, wholly alert. A deep, sleepy reverie had been threatening to overtake her, but that was now entirely gone. Often, after coming a first time, she liked to try for a second orgasm, but this time, she could have gone either way. By the time the horn broke her trance, she was already halfway into a few peaceful, half-naked moments of bliss, her legs akimbo in her upstairs office, her head off in the clouds, feeling as if she were floating.

  She looked up at the computer screen. A moment ago, a video had been playing. Jen knew the video well, because she must have watched it a dozen times by now. The last thing she remembered seeing today was the part where the girl rises off of the guy’s cock and hovers there with just the tip inside. After that, the girl would clench and squeeze his cock, and then he’d come, and his cum would trickle right out of her, down his shaft.

  Jen had missed the grand finale while she’d been off flying through Orgasm Land. Now the screen was blank and the horn outside was still blaring, and Jen didn’t think she’d be going for round two. Shame.

  She wheeled the chair to the window, loathe to stand up, and looked through the mini blinds. What she saw surprised her, and knocked away any remaining chance at a repeat performance.

  The horn was coming from Sam’s car.

  Shit.

  Jen looked at the clock. It was just before one o’clock, and Sam wasn’t due to be home for several hours. She snatched off her headphones, used a tissue to mop at the wetness between her legs and on the chair’s seat, and yanked her pants back up. She buttoned them and zipped the zipper, then looked around the office furtively, making sure she’d left no evidence.

  Why is he home so early?

  But on the heels of that thought came a more pertinent one: Thank God there’s something wrong with his horn. Thank God that happened, so that he didn’t just walk into the house and come upstairs without me knowing.

  Jen looked behind her. She hadn’t even closed the office door. Why would she? She was alone every single day until the bus dropped Justin off just before four. Sam had never, ever come home in the middle of the day before. And oh God, she’d had her headphones on, too. She couldn’t hear anything with them on, and she worked with her back to the door. More than once, Sam had sneaked up behind her and kissed her neck, and she hadn’t known he was there until he’d actually touched her.

  What if he’d done that today?

  Jen shivered, feeling like she’d just dodged a bullet. Sam very, very easily could have walked right on upstairs and seen her rubbing herself off to a webcam video made by some random college kids. Or worse, he could have walked in while she was coming, while her panties were around her ankles, her knees spread wide, her fingers moving fast and her hips bucking.

  For some reason, Jen found that her level of arousal hadn’t come down despite the shocking interruption and her near miss. She actually reached down and gave a few quick strokes to the crotch of her jeans, but then, as the horn abruptly stopped, she remembered Sam. Sam, home early, and about to come inside.

  Content that her office gave no clues as to what she’d just been doing, Jen strode into the hallway and scurried down the stairs just as Sam was walking through the front door. She met his gaze and smiled pleasantly.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Something stuck. I hit the horn with my elbow when I turned around, and the horn just… stuck.”

  Jen shrugged.

  “I’ll need to get it checked, I guess,” he said.

  Jen walked forward, arms open to give him a welcome-home hug. But as she did, she noticed that his briefcase was on the kitchen table. Why was it here, if he’d just walked in? Maybe he’d forgotten it this morning. Maybe he was home now, at lunch, to retrieve it. She tended to vanish into her office, so it was no surprise she hadn’t noticed the errant briefcase sitting down here where it shouldn’t be.

  “You’re home,” she said.

  Sam’s eyes went to the briefcase. Something in them changed, as if the briefcase had reminded Sam of something unpleasant or worrisome. But then the look was gone, and his eyes were on hers, and she saw something else there — something she normally only saw in the bedroom.

  “I…” he began. But then he stopped.

  “You what?”

  This was so strange. She realized that she was acting guarded, as if she were hiding something. He was acting guarded too, for maybe the same reason. It was as if they were two people with secrets, seeing who would flinch first.

  “I just… wanted to see you.”

  “That’s sweet,” she said. But then she thought about how he’d almost caught her rubbing one out, and kind of hoped that as sweet as his spontaneous homecoming was, it wasn’t going to be a regular thing. If it was, she’d have to start locking the office door.

  Sam hugged her tighter, holding on for a bit too long. What was with him today?

  But as she wondered, Jen suddenly realized two things: One, she hadn’t wiped herself off sufficiently, because she could still feel a ton of wetness between her legs — almost as if the near miss at being caught had turned her on. And two, Sam was sporting a regular railspike. Under normal circumstances, she’d make some joke about his hard-on and then lapse into normal welcome-home conversation, but right now his erection was more than just an interesting tidbit of information. She was turned on. She kind of wanted to make use of that hard-on.

  But of course, that wasn’t why he was home. Still, part of her wished it was.

  “Do you have to go back to work?” she asked, hoping that the answer was no.

  “No,” he said.

  “Why are you home so early?” she asked. But the hug still hadn’t broken, and she could feel his hardness as it nested perfectly in the hollow between her legs, pressing agains her cleft. She could hear the lowness and depth of his breath and the lowness and throatiness of her own, and she could feel her heart beating in the way it only did when something very, very arousing was about to happen. Neither of them had said anything that pointed to sex, but in another sense, is was all that either of them was saying.

  Jen pulled back and met Sam’s eyes. They were very serious. Almost sad. His eyes flicked as they took in her face, then ticked down toward the swell of her breasts. The shirt she was wearing was quite large and loose, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. She remembered too late that the bra was upstairs, behind her office door. She’d pulled it off so that she could play with her nipples while she got herself off. The way that she and Sam were standing, her shirt hung in front of her. He could surely see all the way down it, to her two round mounds with
their still-erect nipples on top.

  He looked deep into her eyes, his mouth a straight line.

  Jen’s heartbeat was loud enough in her ears that she thought he must be able to hear it. The fullness between her legs was returning.

  Without a word, she slid down the length of Sam’s body until she was on her knees in front of him. She looked up, into his eyes. Then she turned her attention to his black belt and the slide clasp of the dress pants beneath it. The belt came unbuckled. The pants came unzipped, and she pulled them open. She reached into the opening in the front of his boxers and freed his rock-hard cock, then slid her lips down its length until it was mostly inside of her mouth. Above her, Sam shuddered and gave a small, almost desperate moan. He reached backward, grabbing the kitchen countertop to steady himself.

  Her right hand ran along Sam’s length, working in tandem with her mouth. She gave it a few long, slow strokes, then pulled her lips off and gave the underside a lick from bottom to top. She flicked gently at the bud below the ridge at the top, then swirled her tongue around the head.

  The need between her legs had returned, so she slid her left hand down inside and began to rub herself. Sam looked down, and she saw him react not just to her attention on him, but to her attention on herself. They’d always had good sex and Jen was quite sexual when she got worked up, but she’d never touched herself in front of him before. It had always seemed awkward and private, as if it was something to be ashamed of. Sam had even asked her to masturbate in front of him before, so she knew the idea turned him on, but she’d never complied. For some reason, though, such discretion didn’t seem to matter now. Just minutes earlier, flushing with post-orgasmic glow, she’d blushed at the idea that Sam might have caught her pleasuring herself upstairs, but hadn’t the notion also given her a small, secretive thrill?

  She continued to lick his cock, drawing lines of saliva over its features and ridges, from stem to head, feeling every twitch he made. She wondered if he was close, if he’d been that ready when she’d kneeled down to take him in her mouth. She wondered if she was pleasing him so completely that soon the hot, hard thing between her lips would begin to clench, expelling ropes of warm fluid onto the insides of her cheeks, into the back of her mouth. The thought gave her a thrill.

  So many firsts.

  Jen realized with a thrill that their marriage and sex life had just hit a kind of intoxicating rebirth.

  Look at us! she thought. Like a couple of college kids! Me on my knees in the living room, touching myself while he watches…

  The thought felt dirty in exactly the right kind of way. She hadn’t given herself permission to be this wantonly sexual since her early twenties. Good wives and mothers didn’t do such things, did they?

  But the thoughts she was thinking were so delicious that she asked herself what things, exactly? so that she could experience the dirty answers again in her mind.

  Going down on my knees, sucking his cock in the entryway.

  Wanting him to come, on me or in me. Maybe even all over me.

  Her eyes closed.

  Sliding my fingers inside of my pussy while he watches. Doing something private and letting him see it; feeling the response in his cock as I lick it, as he looks on, unable to believe what’s happening.

  His pleasure was intoxicating. Hers was more insistent, but hers was drawing off of his. The idea that she was driving her husband to the brink gave her an incredible feeling of power.

  He’s going to come, and it’ll all be because of me, she thought.

  Her eyes rolled up. Sam’s head was back, his mouth coming open. He was already close. He looked down, watching her eyes, watching her hand touch herself under her jeans. She could see the disbelief in his eyes. This was all so unprecedented. She could see him fighting to believe that it was even happening, afraid to move and make it all fall apart.

  “Oh God, Jen,” he said. “I’m close.”

  She hadn’t let him come in her mouth since college. The taste made her gag. But the notion was so exciting and so incredibly hot that she wanted to do it — or at least, some version of it. She didn’t have to swallow, after all. She could let it run out.

  It was the last thing he was expecting. She had him in the palm of her hand.

  Jen pulled Sam’s cock out of her mouth, looked up at him, and kissed its underside. Then, barely audible, she whispered, “Come in my mouth.”

  But what he said next wasn’t the moan she’d expected.

  “Take off your pants,” he said. “I want to see you touch yourself.” He swallowed, apparently trying to summon the will to say something dirty. Finally he said, “I want to watch you touch yourself while I come —“ He gave a moan before finishing the sentence. “— in your mouth.”

  So she sat on the floor, and she wiggled out of her jeans, panties, and socks.

  “Take off your shirt too,” he said. So she did.

  Everything felt urgent. Now that she’d promised Sam the conclusion she had, she was suddenly very eager for it.

  Once she was completely naked, her hand and mouth went to his cock as if it were air after being held underwater. His hardness slid into her mouth, hot and twitching with involuntary contractions that she could feel in her working hand. The contractions ran down his shaft, into his balls, and vanished somewhere between his legs.

  Jen got into a squat, then put her hand between her own legs and began to fulfill Sam’s request. She was glad he’d asked. She was very wet, and the motion of her fingers — over her clit, sliding slowly in and out — felt very, very good.

  Jen looked up again, but now Sam’s head wasn’t back and his eyes weren’t closed. He’d asked for a show, and she could see his chest rising and falling as he took it in. Jen knew she looked good, and she knew he loved her breasts. She gave her pussy a rest and rubbed each of them in turn, making them jiggle. Then her hand slid down her belly and went back between her legs, where it was desperately needed. She parted her knees, then tipped her hips upward so that he’d be able to see as she ran her finger between her wet outer lips.

  “You’re amazing,” said Sam. “You’re so beautiful.”

  She slid a finger inside, then pulled it out and tickled her clit with only its tip so that Sam could see how wet her finger had become. A second finger joined the first as she spread her lips wider, running the fingers over her clit in big, firm strokes. She felt a charge begin to fill her entire middle, from her pussy to her ass and even partway up her back, as if there were a giant rubber band across all of it, pulled taut.

  Jen’s mouth wasn’t moving fast on his cock, but Sam was close anyway. His eyes were on her fingers, her mouth, and the wet trails being left by both.

  “I’m going to come,” he said. His abs began to twitch, and his breath began to quicken.

  “In my mouth,” said Jen. Then she gave a small, sly smile — as much as she could, with his cock in her mouth.

  Then he came, and she gripped him with her lips as his hips began to buck. Because she didn’t trust herself not to gag, she let his cum strike the roof of her mouth and her cheeks and run out between her lips. It trailed along the underside of his cock and dripped off, and it ran down her chin, and when her mouth got too full, she parted her lips and the rest ran out onto her breasts, tipping her nipples like icing.

  The hand between her legs had picked up pace, feeding off of his pleasure, but she wasn’t there yet. As he came, she let go of all pretense of coyness and began to thrust into herself in earnest, hooking her fingers back toward her G-spot and running her thumb across her sensitive clit. But as Sam came down from his orgasm, as his cum began to drip into the carpet, she slowed, her entire crotch awash in a warm, pleasing, needful glow. She hadn’t gotten that second orgasm earlier. She wanted it now.

  Sam looked down, and a shiver ran through him as he took in his wife’s cum-wet mouth, her cum-covered breasts, the hand still playing idly and wetly in the folds of flesh between her legs.

  “You didn’t get the
re,” he said.

  Jen didn’t lie about her orgasms. Sometimes, when they had sex, she didn’t come, and she never tried to pretend she had. Sometimes it just didn’t happen, and she trusted Sam to be mature enough to understand that, and he always had.

  She shook her head.

  “Can we fix that?” he said.

  “You’d better,” she said, still on her knees, now idly kissing the underside of his flagging cock.

  Then she stood, and he ran his fingers over every spot of wetness on her. He traced her lips, then down her chin; he stroked her breasts gently; he ran two fingers between them, across her belly button, over the swell below, then down and under, then up inside of her. Jen reached for a tissue, wiped her lips free of cum, and met his kiss. This was far from over. His lips felt intoxicating on hers. His fingers were playing in her pussy, and he used his other hand to cup her breasts, each in turn. His hands on her naked body were a promise that he was about to fulfill, and at the thought of that fulfillment, Jen’s arousal rose, and she felt as if she could come right here, right now.

  He took her by the hand and began to lead her upstairs. When his unbelted, unzipped pants began to drag, he dropped them instead of hitching them up. What the hell. They had the house to themselves for hours.

  They walked upstairs, his still-engorged penis hanging, tumescent but no longer fully erect. Every bit of wetness on Jen’s body evaporated in the room air, feeling electric on her skin like balm spread on a sore muscle.

  Once they were in the bedroom, Sam pulled off his tie, which was loose to begin with, as if it’d been tied in a hurry. He worked the knot out of it pulled the tie straight. Then he pulled another tie from the dresser, then two more. A sly smile crossed his lips.

  “Trust me?” he said.

  “Never,” she said, returning his smile.

  “I want to try something,” he said.

  “Really? So adventurous.”