10 Minute Window


I was busy. Really busy.

I heard her car pull into the driveway while I was on the conference call in the office next to the kitchen. She was home early because her yoga studio was having some repairs done that evening. It was a forced vacation for a workaholic. Zen, my ass.

Between her growing studio clientele, my consulting firm and three teenagers, we didn’t have enough hours in the day. Somehow we got it all in and had time to ourselves. The flexibility of my work usually balanced the rigid hours of her studio and the kids’ schedules. But this week was packed for me. So I hadn’t touched my wife in three days. Never a good thing.

She waved her hand as she walked by the office door, but I was too busy jotting notes on the details of the new merger to wave back.

I could hear her pouring a glass of water before returning to the office door. She was glowing from head to toe in her tights and t-shirt. She must have taught the last class before she left.

She simply stood there enjoying her water and scrolling through her phone. Admittedly I lost a little focus seeing her ass and her Afro taking up most of the doorway. But somebody would ask me a question and I would gather bahis firmaları my thoughts appropriately.

When she finished her glass of water she returned to the kitchen. I was trying to figure out what the time difference would be on my next call when she strolled back into the office – sans waterbottle and yoga pants.

She was still scrolling through her phone as she sat elegantly on our antique desk – legs crossed, back straight, head tilted. Her chocolate thighs almost distracted me from finishing my thought on tax inequities over the last two fiscal years, but I powered through. “Sun Le, I know you want to wait another quarter to do the deal, but timing is everything,” I griped as I turned my attention toward some financial charts on my screen to help keep me focused.

After about five minutes she stood up and quietly exited the office, eyes still focused on her phone. She turned the corner and headed up the stairs as I caught her reflection from the hallway mirror.

As I wrapped up my call and checked to see who was on my calendar for 4PM, I was surprised by a meeting invite for 3:50PM that popped up. It was already 3:55PM when I opened the message to find out the meeting was kaçak iddaa scheduled for our shower.

That’s when I noticed the shower running.

I hastily headed up the stairs to our bedroom and saw her phone on the freshly made bed. Before I could make my way through the bedroom to the onsuite I could hear the phone playing a distinct sound. I went over to grab it and found she’d been looping the video I sent to her that morning of me rubbing my dick and talking shit about fucking her when she got home.

With her phone in one hand and my phone in the other, I nudged the bathroom door open. While the shower glass was steamed over from the heat, she was clearly on the other side. She was leaning against the wall with one hand and what can only be described as vigorously massaging her clit with the other.

Her pose was as unladylike as her sitting on my desk was demure. Knees slightly bent, heels slightly raised, shoulders hunched, head down.

Should I join in, should I record it, should I just enjoy it?

Before I had an answer we heard, “I want to cum all over your face.” My video on her phone was still playing. “I want my cum to roll down your cheeks tonight.”

She threw kaçak bahis her head back, still rubbing away at full speed. Her curls were getting wet from the shower behind her. I stepped closer to the shower door and held the phone speaker up to the glass.

“Or would you like it better if I came on your breasts?”

She began to moan as her chin fell back to her clavicle and her heels raised higher off the ground.

“Or maybe I should simply come on your ass?”

Her pace became erratic and her heels hit the floor as she moaned evenly, turning her face away from me.

“Or I can simply melt inside you,” the video finished.

She began to tremble and her body was wrapped into itself. She let go of the wall and placed both hands between her legs as she shook. Had it not been for the steam in the room you’d think her shivering was from an arctic blast.

Then she gathered herself and stepped backwards into the water, tilting her head back until the warm water washed over her glistening brown skin.

“Call,” she said evenly as she spun face-first into the fresh stream of water.

“Sorry?” I replied in confusion.

“I think you’re phone is ringing,” she stated as she stretched into the spray of steam.

My phone was ringing with my 4PM meeting. I contemplated not answering when I heard, “Can Jacob and Ahmad stay for dinner?” from downstairs.

Timing is everything.

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