Page 19 of Wrapped Up in Holly

My cock was hard and straining against my jeans, and when her eyes trailed down between my legs, the tops of her cheeks pinked.

“If you want to see mine, you have to let me see yours,” I rasped, and she set her shoulders back. Decision made.

Thank fucking god.

I told Alexa to raise the volume of the music; it was some snappy version of “Sleigh Ride,” and Holly cleared her throat, tossing her hair over her shoulders, inhaling deeply. I smiled to myself. My beautiful wife, who had overcome so much as a kid, who sometimes doubted herself, who needed to be shown how much I wanted her and loved her, she was perfect.

And then she struck a pose, one hand on her hip, the other skimming down her side before spinning slowly, making sure Ihad an eyeful of her ass in those cheeky lace panties. After a few seconds, she strutted to one end of the living room and back. I nodded. “Baby, you look so good. Your tits look amazing.”

“Yeah?” she asked over her shoulder on another pass.

“Yeah.”

And I think she stood even taller.

“Do another twirl,” I said, and she did, grinning as the itty bitty lace flared at her sides.

“Now this one.” I held up another outfit, and she skipped to grab it, still taking it to the bathroom to change, but I used the few minutes to refill our drinks. As I sat down, she rounded the couch, striding across the floor in the buffalo plaid number that had me sucking air through my teeth. “Fuck me.”

She huffed out a laugh and pivoted so I couldn’t see her bare ass in the G-string anymore. “You picked these out yourselves?”

I readjusted my dick. “Yeah.”

“Are they a gift for me or for you?”

“Us.”

She hummed and flicked at the garters holding up the black stockings. “I like them.”

“Good.” I grabbed my cell phone, thumbing the screen to get my camera app open. “Because I fucking love them. Now turn around and show me your ass again,” I said, holding my phone up and ready to snap pictures.

She did as I instructed and bent, offering me a view of her backside, the tiny scrap of black settled between her ass cheeks, and shadowed area between her legs that I was dying to touch. I captured a bunch of pictures, rapid fire. I didn’t even know if they were any good, since I was too busy staring at her instead of the lighting or art direction or whatever other shit Holly used to talk about when she modeled.

“Now, walk. I want a video, too.”

She paced back and forth across the floor, in her zone now, her gate confident, her arms swinging.

“Stop right there,” I told her. “Face me and touch yourself.”

She didn’t move.

“Remember when we used to call each other, and I’d tell you to lick your fingers and touch your nipples?”

She nodded.

“Do that.”

She swallowed, slow to move again, but I waited her out, my finger at the ready over the record button. Knowing she needed a push, I described exactly why I wanted this.

“I want to be able to look at these pictures and videos whenever I want. Whenever I’m hot and hungry for you, but you’re not around, I want to be able to pull these up and wrap my hand around my cock, looking at you.You, Holly. You’re it. You always have been.”

Without a word, she stuck the index and middle fingers of both hands in her mouth and licked them until they glistened, then she dragged them over her nipples. A coarse sound escaped the back of my throat, and I nestled down further in the cushions, one hand pressing on my cock to relieve some pressure while I held my phone up with the other, videoing her. “You look so good. Show me what you want me to do to you.”

She plumped her breasts, squeezing and massaging, her fingers tweaking her nipples. Before I even had to tell her I wanted to see them, she pulled the cups of the bra down, and I groaned. Since having our girls, Holly’s breasts had gotten bigger and supposedly saggier. I thought they were fucking perfect.

“I want your mouth on me,” she said, all haze and smoke.

“I will. I’ll lick every inch of you.”

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