26. More Toxic than Chernobyl
26
MORE TOXIC THAN CHERNOBYL
CHARLES
Daisy tries to get up from my lap when I hold her hand.
“Where are you going?”
“Not far,” she whispers. The light shiver in her voice is a telltale sign of her initiating something sexy, and I can’t wait to see what my wife has planned on the fly. As opposed to what she thinks, I know about the box wrapped in yellow paper in the cupboard.
But my excitement comes to a halt when I feel her cold hands on my knees, clutching the soft fabric of my pants.
“Daisy? What are you doing?” There’s no hiding the surprise in my voice.
“Is it clear now?” Her hands slowly crawl up, resting over my thighs, an inch away from my throbbing cock.
My hands are itching to tear the blindfold off my face. She must be blushing so hard, the crimson spreading all over her face, down to her neck and cleavage. But there’s a strange thrill in anticipating her moves when I can’t see her face, which usually gives her away.
Daisy’s hands move toward my belt buckle, escalating my heartbeat to the highest notch. My cock is at full mast, knowing it’s in for one of the best nights of its life.
“What kind of belt is this? Where are the notches?”
There’s a momentary pause in between my wild thoughts when Daisy tugs on my belt buckle too hard, eliciting a groan out of me.
“It’s not a standard buckle.” I place my hands above hers in an attempt to show her, when she pulls her hands away.
“Why does everything have to be so complicated with you?”
I unbuckle my belt with lightning speed. If it’s making my wife cranky, especially in the middle of something so important, I’ll burn my expensive belt collection and give up wearing belts altogether.
“There.” I search for her in the dark, and my fingers meet her soft strands. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m just nervous.” Her hands are back on my thighs, once again ready to take me to a high.
“Me too,” I reply truthfully, my fingers brushing her cheek.
“Thanks for saying that. I feel better already.”
My thumb drifts to her mouth, and I feel the indentation of her teeth digging into her plump bottom lip.
God, I want to kiss her right now, but I also want to experience what she’s willing to show me.
It’s the kind of indecision I could start to love.
“I’m happy to be of service, butterfly.”
“I love when you call me that.” Her voice is a whisper as she admits something I already know.
“I love calling you that.”
The tiny chuckle that slips past her lips drowns out as her hands reach my cock, which stands erect through my pants like a soldier at attention.
“Someone’s excited?”
“That someone has been excited since you got down on your knees. Fuck!” My words tumble over one another when Daisy unzips my pants and starts to massage me over my boxers.
The sensations become unbearable, and I place my hands over hers.
“Am I not doing it right?” she asks politely—too politely—making my cock jerk.
That tease.
If she only knew my cock is a lesser problem. It’s my heart that rattles so loud that I worry I might just pass out when she speaks in that soft, honey-dipped voice.
“Not at all. But have some mercy on me and go slow.”
Her hand finally stills for a beat, and she asks, “Does this mean I made you beg again?”
I never imagined I’d be laughing as hard as I am right now when there’s a woman—no, not just any woman, but Daisy —on her knees before me with her hands inside my pants.
“Yes, my competitive wife, you made me beg again. Now, if we’ve done enough talking for the night, I’d like your mouth to be occupied with something other than baiting me.”
“Thank you for voicing your defeat. Since you asked so nicely, I’m going to blow your mind tonight.”
And God does she keep to her promise.
I rise a little in the air, helping her get my pants and boxers down past my knees, and the moment my cock is free, she whimpers.
“Holy fuck. It’s so huge up close.” Daisy’s tone filled with wonder and amazement, has me biting my lip.
“This is not the time to act cute—” My words die on my tongue as she licks my shaft from root to tip. “Fuck, butterfly.”
That’s the only encouragement she needs before sucking my cock like it’s a popsicle.
That’s enough. I can’t miss this fucking view!
“I’m taking off the blindfold.” That’s the only warning I give before my hands rip the tie from my eyes.
Daisy’s mouth is still around my length, and when she looks up, taking me in farther, my eyes roll back.
“Damn, Daisy. I need to see you naked. Right now.” I groan when my length slips past her lips.
In a state of urgency, we pull off our clothes, and I’m back in her mouth, hitting the back of her throat.
This time when she sucks me, I watch everything—the hollowing of her cheeks, the movement of her throat, and the way her beautiful tits bounce.
My hips thrust up as I cradle the back of her head.
This is one of the most beautiful sights, and when I think it can’t get any more perfect, Daisy moans my name. She moans my name in an almost inaudible fashion while moving her mouth up and down my dick.
That’s my undoing. Knowing it’s not just me but she too is enjoying this, I hold her hair again, her hair clip digging against my palm, making it all so real. And then I’m moving her head at a pace I ache for.
Daisy doesn’t miss a beat. Like fucking always, she’s with me in everything, never leaving me alone.
She cups my balls, eliciting a hissing sound as I hold back my orgasm. Just when I’m about to shoot my load down her throat, Daisy pops off me and flicks the underside of my crown.
“Daisy, don’t you fucking tease me.” My hips buck off the couch.
“I’m not teasing you, Charles. I want to make this so memorable that you never forget this moment.” She smiles so sweetly before kissing the length of my shaft with such reverence that I almost die. I don’t know if it’s from my held-back release or her sweetness—probably both.
“You on your knees, naked in our living room and surrounded by Christmas lights, is the highlight of my lifetime, Daisy.”
Her mischievous grin returns, and she starts to stroke me with her hand before her head dips, and Daisy is licking the sensitive skin of my balls.
There’s no escape for me anymore when she sucks me into her mouth.
“Fuck, I’m about to…” I don’t finish the sentence before my swollen cock jerks in her hand. White release coats her hands, my thighs, and the leather seat as she keeps stroking me.
My vision goes dark, and it becomes hard to breathe and my head falls against the cushioned headrest. I’ve never in my life come so fucking hard.
I’m still panting when Daisy crawls up, not worrying about cleaning anything. My eyes open to find her licking her hand, and God, that’s such a fucking erotic sight.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” she says in a breathy voice.
“Which part of it?”
“Doing it next to the fireplace. It was like a fantasy come true.”
“Then I’m happy to be a part of your fantasy.” I grin, folding my hands behind my head, trying to catch my breath.
“How often do you work out, Charles?” Daisy’s gaze drifts from my face to my biceps as she wets her bottom lip.
“I’m definitely increasing my hours now that I know how wet you get watching my muscles.” I flex my biceps, and she burst into giggles.
“I’m not going to apologize for admiring my husband’s hard work.”
“Admire away. It’s only for you, my dear wife.” I sit up, taking her with me, and her eyes gleam when my half-mast cock hardens under her once again. But before she can distract me with her words or just by her existence, I ask, “Not that I’m complaining, since this just might be the best gift of my whole life, but what did you really get me, Daisy?”
“What do you mean?” All the humor evaporates from her voice, and so does the color from her face.
I settle her onto the couch and arrange a throw blanket over her before pulling up my pants. The upcoming conversation definitely demands my full attention, and I can’t give that when we’re both naked.
I grab the gift box she’s discreetly hidden in the cupboard, which I’d accidentally found this morning.
“To Charles A. Hawthorne. Merry Christmas, even though I know you possibly don’t celebrate it.” I read the white note out loud before bringing it to her as she puts on my white dress shirt, looking prettier than ever.
Until right now, I never thought there’d be a day I’d share my wardrobe with anyone, yet here I am imagining her beside this fireplace in nothing but my shirt for all future Christmases.
“Charles, please don’t open it.” Daisy places her hand over mine, and her worried gaze moves between me and the box. “I bought this before I knew you were going to break the tradition of giving me a gift card.”
“I don’t think that was much of a tradition.” Unlike her, I can’t stop my smile. “In any case, I consider your mouth my gift tonight. This can be our secret reminder.”
I unwrap the gift, and my lips twitch as I read the flowing black letters on a white cup with an illustration of a scowling man in a suit.
“Is this supposed to be me?” I raise an eyebrow before reading the words. “ Chernobyl is less toxic than my boss .”
She plucks the cup away from my hand and hides it behind her back. “It’s a joke. It has always been a joke. You know that, right?” Daisy shakes her head as she mumbles, “You possibly don’t even remember all the crazy things written on the previous mugs.”
If only you knew, butterfly.