Sexual Playground

Ali Whippe

Description

What’s the secret to a happy marriage? Other people, of course!


Emily and Ryan have been happily married for five years now. Their secret? Cutting loose now and then and escaping to a local club where anything goes.
Emily loves nothing more than watching her husband with another lover, enjoying the show as much as participating.


Ryan finds nothing sexier than seeing his wife completely satisfied by others, knowing how delicious her body can be.


Both of them know that watching is always fun, but joining in is even better…

Sujets

• Romance
• Romance érotique
• BD Erotique
• BDSM
• Erotica
• Bondage et discipline, domination et soumission et sado-masochisme
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: 4 Horsemen Publications, Inc.
• Date de parution: 01 septembre 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781644503294
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Sexual Pl ayground
Copyright © 2021 Ali Whippe. All rights r eserved.


4 Horsemen Publicatio ns, Inc.
1497 Main St. S uite 169
Dunedin, FL 34698
4horsemenpublicat ions.com
info@4horsemenpublicat ions.com
Cover by Battle Goddess Pro ductions
Editor Nit a Edetor
All rights to the work within are reserved to the author and publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without prior written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please contact either the Publisher or Author to gain per mission.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used ficti tiously.
Library of Congress Control Number: 20 21943014
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-644 50-329-4
Print ISBN: 978-1-644 50-330-0
Audio ISBN: 978-1-644 50-328-7


Dedication
For all the people who li ke to play


C hapter One
“H ey handsome,” Emily croons into the phone, “you gonna be home soon to fuck me silly? I can’t wait to play with you.”
There is a pause, and her husband coughs. She can hear the sound of the car humming in the background, and then the tiny titter of her daughter’s laughter. “Mommy said a bad word!” she whisper-shrieks. Her tone turns accusatory, “Are you and mommy going to the playground wit hout us?!”
“You’re on the car speaker,” Ryan says, way too late to save her. “And mommy was just excited to hear from us!” he explains to their four-year old. “Sometimes mommy forgets to use her nice words when she gets excited.” He pauses, then adds, “And no, we’re not going to the playground without you. Grandma will definitely take you to their playground this weekend.”
You fucker, she thinks. Excited indeed. “I’m sorry, Penny,” Emily says gently. “Mommy was teasing Daddy.” She pauses, then adds, her tone slightly acerbic, “I thought you would have dropped them of f by now.”
“That’s why I called,” her husband replies, a heavy sigh filling the pause. “We’re sitting in traffic, and it looks like it’s going to be a while. I didn’t want you to get ready to go out and then have to wait forever for me to get home.”
Emily nods, though she knows he can’t see her, a habit she never managed to break.
“Are you nodding at me?” Rya n prompts.
Emily giggles, and she hears her daughter echo the sound, followed by a high-pitch ed squeal.
“Shh, pumpkin,” Ryan soothes. “We don’t want to wake your brother.” Emily hears more shushing noises, but this time it’s Penelope insisting that Oliver will sleep through anything. “Hey, honey,” he says, distracted now as he prepares to hang up, “I just wanted to let you know.”
“I can order in,” Emily suggests, almost relieved to skip the restaurant. “What are you feeling?”
“I can pick something up on the way back,” he offers. “Ital ian okay?”
“Perfect,” Emily agrees, settling herself against the kitchen counter. “Okay, sweetie, be good for grandma and grandpa this weekend!”
“I will!” Penny promises. “Olly will be good, too, Mommy. I’ll make su re of it.”
“I know you will,” Emily tells her, certain that their daughter will boss her little brother around the en tire time.
“Talk to you soon,” Ryan says. There is more of the hum from the car driving, then the call ends. Emily puts it down on the counter, eyes skipping to the clock on the oven.
5:46. If Ryan hasn’t even gotten to his parents’ house yet, he won’t be home for a good hour or so. A whole hour just for me, she muses. No husband. No kids. No chores.
Well, yes, chores, but none that I’m going to do tonight. Thoughts of unwashed laundry, gritty floors, grimy sinks, and sticky counters flash across her mind, but she lets it all go, knowing her to-do list will still be there on Sunday when Ryan leaves to go get the kids. She can clean the house then. Now, however, her kid-free weekend has begun, and she won’t let a moment of it go to waste.
She considers her options. Empty house , she muses. All alone. What to do first? Looking around at the kitchen, she takes in the few dishes stacked in the sink, evidence of the kids’ snacks still lingering on the counter next to the fridge—the open bag of goldfish crackers and a few slices of apple still rest next to a small bowl of mostly eaten peanut butter. Her instinct is to clear the mess away, but this is her special weekend, and she forces herself to ignore it, hopping up on the counter above the dishwasher instead. This surface is clean, her tidy habits wiping down this side of the kitchen after lunch. Emily finds her attention wandering back to the goldfish and apples again, and she t urns away.
I wonder... she glances at the clean counter behind where she sits, the granite countertop of the island extending behind the sink. On a whim, she lays back, relishing the feel of the cold surface as it sinks into her back, especially the bare skin of her neck and shoulders where her tank top doesn’t cover. She straightens a bit, scooting so she lays behind the sink, her hair fanning out on the surface behind her. Instead of the mess on the other counter, she stares up into the pendulum lights that hang over this side of the island, lighting the eat-in bar they rarely use for anything but piling random stuff. The surface is clear today—Emily tidied while the kids napped—and she stretches to her full height, her hands dangling off the edge above her head as she wiggles, a grin crossing her face at the odd position.
Why haven’t we had sex on this counter? She knows Ryan would be up for it—her husband is generally up for anything. She knows the answer— because we have two small children. The idea of getting busy on the counter is hot, but not when one of the kids stumbles downstairs into the kitchen, rubbing their sleepy eyes and asking what daddy is doing to mommy on the c ountertop.
They’re managed to have sex in fun places around the house on those few weekends when Ryan’s parents watch the kids, but they just never made it into th e kitchen.
Note to self , Emily thinks. This counter is probably a perfect height. She pictures her husband: his long legs and broad shoulders, the look in his eye as he lifts her onto the countertop, that sexy confidence that first drew her to him back in college. First, he would push her back so she lay on the counter, her legs bent at the knee, feet dangling in front of the dishwasher, and he would slide her pants off.
Emily’s hand drifts down her waist, following the curve of her stomach and slipping inside her pants. Biting her lip, she imagines Ryan leaning down to lick her pussy, his fingers slipping inside as he sucks on her clit. Her pants are tight, and while she sometimes enjoys the restriction, she doesn’t want it now. She’s alone. The house is hers, and if she wants to masturbate on the kitchen counter, she’s going to do it without straining against her pants.