Sit Awhile in His Seat
The nuance is in the context. Short story - Rated X
I'm Abigail, sextech leader, born-again monogamist, and mother of two. I love love and am fascinated by romantic relationships. I like to think of Happy Endings as an interpersonal peep show that showcases my relationship as a reminder that love is alive and well. It's sometimes soppy, sometimes sexy, and will always make you feel something. (Not guaranteed for those who are emotionally constipated, chronically hard, generally insensitive, or psychopathic.)
I’m using a crocheted pot holder to wash the pan Joe smash-seared beef into the night before.
“Where's the mom?” I hear him ask the boys, who don’t answer him. The clanging dish does. “Oh she’s washing up.”
The culture with a dozen variations for the word ‘upset’ uses the same no matter what you’re washing - dishes, clothes, yourself. I suppose that’s like ‘alright.’ The nuance is in the context.
He finds me and issues a greeting by pinching my intentionally thin cotton underpants by the bottom. He pulls them down. First a little pull, adjusting the rise. Then a little more, to see my butt crack. Power within reach, power abused.
My bikini cut, now sagging, disturbs me. “Stop!” I whine, wiggling down in an attempt to slink back into the material.
I like my panties taut against my skin. To feel them holding my cheeks. Nearing the end of the ‘wedgie to saggy’ scale. Just on the edge of getting pulled into my crack. It might look extreme given my bum’s full size.
Joe wears his underpants, and all trousers really, to a sag. The waistband is still on his hips, but barely. His tiny bum accentuates the draping fabric. He exclusively wears primary colored briefs with white piping in unintentionally thin cotton (they’ve been over laundered). I often suggest he pull them up a touch. Then a touch more. It is sexy seeing his little bum touched well.
“He he,” he almost says. So boyish. “Oh I want to see you do that move again,” and again reaches for my bum.
I feel powerless. My hands are covered in soap. I bend away at the hips, still rinsing a spoon.
Henry calls to him and he leaves me there, washing up. I smirk to myself. Today the play begins before bedtime.
After bedtime, it continues…
