Needing a Distraction

He always made fun of me for working too hard at home and not hard enough at work. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of the inherent problems in that policy, just that I worked better at home. Work was too full of distractions.

On this day, as usual, I was sprawled on my tummy on the huge sectional sofa, laptop in front of me, hard at work on spreadsheets. I had my headphones in, listening to jazz and a glass of wine at hand. I was happy. I was so preoccupied, I jumped when I felt a warm hand on my calf.

“Hey!” I giggled. “When did you get home?”

He picked my foot up, kissed my ankle, and put it back down. “At least 20 minutes ago. I was at the store. I put the groceries away, stubbed my toe, and fed the cat. You didn’t budge.”

“Sorry. I have to get this done.”

“We’ll see.”

While it was a strange response, I didn’t think much of it and returned to my work. My boss had been on me about this data and it was important, and I was the best at putting it in spreadsheets our board could interpret. I was just putting the finishing touches on the first of 4 when I felt those same hands on both my calves, rubbing gently.

“That feels good babe,” I said, “but I have to stay focused here. This is gonna take me at least another -” I stopped when his hands slipped up higher on my legs.

“You just keep working.” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

This was…new. We’d been together over a year, living together for a couple months, and our sex life, while always satisfactory, had become a little routine. We used to be the couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other, even in the public pool. Twice. To completion. Lately it was like we were working off a script. A good one. I wasn’t complaining, but until he started this new little game, I didn’t realize how much I was missing.

I cleared my throat and got back to work. Didn’t turn my head, didn’t say anything. Coltrane’s sax was filling my head, strong hands were massaging my thighs, and suddenly my formulas weren’t adding up right. I don’t know how long it took me to realize I was trying to calculate using the completely wrong cells. My cheeks were flushed and it was getting more and more difficult to focus.

His hands were massaging my hips, fingers dancing towards my ass or around front to my pussy but he kept correcting himself right before he crossed those thresholds. Somehow I knew that as long as I kept from openly reacting to his touch, he’d keep pushing the line, trying to elicit a real tangible response.

He pushed my shirt up in the back, only dragging his fingers lightly over my ass before massaging my lower back in earnest. Careful, slow circles, deep in the muscle, then gentle little tickles along my ribs. I felt goosebumps rising and my thighs were involuntarily flexing together. I hoped he didn’t notice. He slipped his hands around under my arms and grazed the sides of my breasts over my bra.

“Let’s get this off.” He unsnapped it with ease and the straps drooped down my shoulders. I said nothing.

I nearly deleted a whole column when I felt his beard, then his lips on my exposed back. My neck. My ear. My eyes closed, I knew he couldn’t see it but I tried to regain my composure. He straddled me, kissing a trail down my spine, meandering around my back, down to the edge of my pants. With one yank he tugged them down to my knees and started kissing my ass over my panties. I swallowed, hard, and took a slow, quiet breath. Focus. Focus.

He began rubbing my buttocks, straddling my knees, occasionally I could feel his erection drag across my thighs when he leaned over. He was wearing my favorite sweatpants. The ones that don’t hide his bulge at all. While I couldn’t see it, I knew very well that it was there.

When he slipped my panties down, I could tell from the air that I was wet, wetter than I thought I had been. When he dipped his fingers into my pussy from between my closed legs, I could hear how wet I was.

He chuckled. There was no denying that I was very turned on, but I was pretty sure I was doing a good job of keeping my voluntary responses to a minimum. “How’s that spreadsheet going?” he asked.

I gritted my teeth. “Fine.” Truth be told, I hadn’t been paying any attention to what I’d been doing since..I had no idea. I was going to have to redo this one. But I didn’t care.