Author's note:
This is one of the realities of adult sex in the context of a relationship - and as such I cannot apologise for it.
However, you are advised to read no further if you are squeamish.
These are two parts of the Pleasures series rolled into one - although I will say that a part of Jethro's piece is MIA and I have no explanation for it.
The first time he'd accepted it.
The second time he'd sulked. He wasn't used to being refused. None of his wives had ever been disinclined to let him wade the red river, and he'd always done so with alacrity.
The third time his mouth had dropped open at her suggestion.
It had then taken him two months to wrap his head around what she was asking him to do.
"It isn't very different to phone sex, Jethro," she'd said simply. "Except that I'll be watching."
He might have said he'd been coerced, but the bottom line was that he enjoyed it just as much as she did once he put his inhibitions aside. From the way she shared his pillow and purred encouragement into his ear; to the way her breath hitched as her eyes grew wider and darker; to the way she rubbed herself against his thigh; to the way she held him as he shuddered in release.
All that remained now was to figure out a way to get her to return the compliment.
They had a little understanding. She started him off - so that he didn't feel like a performing monkey.
But watching him, two months into their little ritual, she was starting to think she'd created a monster. The moral outrage had completely dissipated, and he'd gone from shedding his inhibitions to practically showing off. Something which amused her greatly. And fuelled her mischievous streak.
The smug smile had to go.
"No, I haven't changed my mind," she said when his eyes lit up at the sight of her shimmying out of her underwear.
She could see the cogs turning in his head.
"There's not a hope in hell," he growled a heartbeat later.
He looked at her guardedly. The way he usually did when she was pushing his boundaries.
"I don't want them stretched, Jethro," she said placatingly as she settled onto the bed next to him. "I'm just sticking to our agreement." When he continued to look at the panties suspiciously she added, "silk is better than lubricant."
"Uh-huh."
"I just want you to ... live a little?"
"I live plenty."
"Not doin' it, Jen," he muttered as she leaned forward seductively.
"No you're not," she whispered. "I am."
She watched as he opened his mouth to protest; and smiled as the protest died before it could be verbalized.
"Knew you'd love it," she purred as his head made a dent in the pillow.
She compressed her lips around one of his nipples for good measure. Maintaining the pressure for about a few seconds before increasing it. Enjoying the look of fierce determination that traversed his features. The smile became broader when he moaned at the sensation of being enveloped in silk, and shuddered involuntarily as a sudden rush of pleasure coursed through him.
"You're on your own, Gunny," she whispered at him.
Pulling the scrap of silk away just as he gave every indication of settling into rhythm.
Jen watched as his hand drifted south. Pulling down on the skin at his pubic bone. Making himself tighter and harder. She squirmed slightly as the rounded head took on the appearance of burnished stone - her fingers itching to help as he traced the curve with his other hand; skimming the tip before rounding the tip and travelling back down the underside. She could feel the erotic energy build as he palmed his sac. The fact that she knew what it felt like and how much it weighed right about now only adding to her viewing pleasure. The smirk was firmly back in place as he cajoled sensation from himself in light deliberate strokes which morphed into long passes.
Taxing his breathing.
And hers.
She nuzzled his shoulder gently as he transitioned into full length fisting – and as he spared her a look, both sets of eyes darkened impossibly. She smiled her encouragement at him as he picked up the pace slightly – and waited for the inevitable with bated breath.
Stop and go.
She didn't think she would ever get enough of watching him indulge in this particular technique. And the fact that he'd come well trained in that department only added to the frisson. She moistened her lips and resisted the urge to bite him as he started to ride the edge. Easing seamlessly into a perpetual caress of the coronal ridge. Sending his nerve endings into overdrive and then reining them in mercilessly until she was plastered up against him and his free hand held her in a vise-like grip.
She kissed him fiercely as he fell apart in an incoherent hiss, and there was just one thing on her mind as she propped herself back onto her elbow and ran a finger down his chest. The same thing that ran through her mind every time.
Sanctioned voyeurism.