What We Did Against the Door Without Waking Anyone

We had both been sprawled on the sofa for a while, each with our phone in hand, not saying a word to each other. Dinner had gone on longer than planned and the kids had fallen asleep in our bed forty minutes earlier. Neither of us had had the nerve to carry them to their own room. I wasn’t sleepy. What I had was that kind of electricity under the skin that shows up at the end of long days, when the body doesn’t want rest but something else.

I got up before him. I walked barefoot down the hallway and stopped in front of the guest room door — that night we’d sleep there — with my forehead against the wood and my eyes closed. I breathed slowly. I heard the remote clicking off, the creaks of the parquet, his footsteps behind me. I didn’t call him. There was no need.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed my neck. I raised my arms over my head and laced my hands behind his nape, offering myself completely. He took the chance. His lips moved down the curve of my neck to my shoulder, slow at first, then with that unmistakable intent that needs no words. I started stroking the short hair at the back of his neck.

The kisses turned hot, wet, lingering. I could feel his breath bouncing against my skin. I was already asking for more before his hands moved from my stomach to my chest, and when they did, they did it with authority. I was wearing my pajama T-shirt without a bra. The thin fabric hid nothing. I have big, heavy breasts, with long nipples, and he knows them by heart. He squeezed them whole, first over the fabric, then slipping his hands underneath. He searched for the nipples with the pads of his thumbs and drew slow circles until they hardened.

“Like that...” he murmured against my ear.

I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t make a sound. The kids were asleep three doors down and the house was silent as a temple. I placed both hands on the closed door, spread my legs wider inside my pajama pants, and let my head fall forward. He pinched one nipple carefully, then the other. The second pinch was a little harder. I let out a sigh against the wood and felt my panties soak through in silence.

I slid my right hand down the front of my pajamas and touched myself over my belly, slowly, leaving the path prepared. I wasn’t in a hurry. Or I was, but I wanted to stretch every minute. I felt the hard bulge of him pressed against my ass. I searched for it with my hips, pushed back, rubbed myself against him like a cat.

He understood at once. He brought both hands to the front, kneaded my breasts directly against my skin, with no fabric between us, with that mix of tenderness and firmness that only years teach you. He squeezed hard and eased off just in time, before it could hurt. My body answered him to every squeeze.

I caught one of his hands and guided it to the edge of my pants. He lowered them on his own, but not all the way: he left them at mid-thigh, just enough so I couldn’t close my legs. Then he took the elastic of my panties and pulled a little upward, wedging them between my buttocks. The fabric bit into my wet lips and I couldn’t stop myself from moaning softly against the door. I had a completely shaved cunt, smooth all the way through, and every brush of the fabric against my clit made my spine tingle.

I started rubbing myself over the damp panties. Slowly. I pressed my clit with two fingers in circles and could feel the wet fabric making a barely audible little sound each time I pressed down. He kept kneading one breast with one hand, while the other worked my ass, opening it, squeezing it, marking it. I thought about turning around and devouring his mouth, but I didn’t want to break the rhythm.

I rested my forehead against my left arm, which was pressed to the door, and spread my fingers a little to slip them under the fabric. I ran one finger from the entrance to my clit, back and forth, until I had it well lubricated. I was soaked. I’m not exaggerating. The panties were so wet they looked as if they’d just come out of water.

He realized what I was doing and lowered his hand to meet mine. Without saying a word, he moved my fingers aside, grabbed my panties and pulled them all the way down to my thighs. The cold air in the hallway licked my wet cunt and I almost let out another sigh.

I heard him go down. I felt him kneel behind me and the heat of his breath against the top of my ass. He gripped my hip and pulled me back a little, forcing me to arch more. I spread my legs as far as my pants would allow, which wasn’t much.

With both hands he opened my buttocks. Then, with his thumbs, he parted the lips of my cunt. I stayed still, alert to every movement. I couldn’t see anything because my cheek was against the wood, but I could feel him looking. I could feel air getting in everywhere.

The first finger went in easily. I was so wet he barely felt any resistance. He pushed it all the way in and held it there for a second, pressing, until he pulled it out and brushed my clit with the tip. I clenched my jaw so I wouldn’t moan.

He returned to the entrance and this time it was two fingers. My reaction was automatic: I spread my legs as wide as I could and pushed my ass back. He moved them slowly at first, in and out, while with the other hand he squeezed one cheek hard. I felt his teeth on the other one. He bit me, gently, after marking the skin with his lips.

He sped up the pace of his fingers. I was at my limit. I lowered my hand again and stroked my clit in quick circles, not pressing too hard. I didn’t want to come yet. I wanted to stretch it out.

When I touched myself, my fingers bumped into his. He stopped for a second, felt them, and then he did something I hadn’t expected: he took my hand, guided my fingers to the entrance of my own cunt and slid them in along with his. Four fingers inside me. Mine, his, all at once.

We stayed like that for a moment, moving them slowly, feeling them brush against each other inside my body. It was a strange sensation and, at the same time, electrifying, that clumsy intimacy of touching yourself while being touched at the same time, in the same place, with the same intention. I rested my forehead against the door and my knees started to go weak.

When we pulled our fingers out at the same time, I kept mine on my clit and he did something else. He opened my ass cheeks with both hands and ran his tongue over my anus. Slowly, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. I would never have asked him for that outright, but at that moment, horny down to every nerve, I let him do whatever he wanted.

He slid two fingers back into my cunt while holding one cheek and continuing to lick. I shuddered all over. A chill ran from my heels to the nape of my neck.

Then he moved fully between my legs. I felt him go under my ass, settling in, getting where he wanted to be. His tongue cleaned my cunt from top to bottom in one long sweep. Then he focused on my clit and started sucking it gently while the two fingers stayed inside, moving slowly.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed his head with my free hand and pressed him against me. He got it: he started sucking harder, moving faster. I pulled his hair, rocked my hips against his mouth, drowned in my own breathing. I let go of his hair and grabbed one of my breasts through the T-shirt, pinching the nipple between two fingers until it almost hurt.

I couldn’t make a sound. I couldn’t. The kids were sleeping three doors away.

My legs gave out. An electric cramp shot up my calves, through my thighs, and sank into my lower belly. I lifted my head, opened my mouth, and let out a muffled moan against the wood of the door. I came. I came in silence, eyes closed, my whole body shaking and my forehead pressed to the cold wood.

It took me a long minute to breathe normally again.

When he got up from the floor, I turned around and kissed his mouth. I kissed him like I hadn’t kissed him in months. He tasted like me, like desire, like old trust. I laughed softly against his lips, still dizzy, grateful, and whispered in his ear what I was going to do to him another day, when the kids were sleeping far away and the guest room door was closed.

This time it was his turn to be generous. Next time it’s mine.