I'm in the kitchen prepping for our guests tomorrow. Doesn't matter how good my pies are, your mother will ask what I put in it with the sour look on her face, just like she does every year. And I'll tell her it's the recipe that she gave me, just like I make every year. She will say that it's different, not thay it's bad. Different, is all. And you'll stiffle a laugh when you see my jaw clench and that tense smile I force, as you do every year. And I love it. I love this life and this predictability we have. And I'm smiling as I stand here, rolling out this dough. Flour on my face, my apron, sticking to the bottoms of my bare feet.

You lean in the doorway, smiling as you watch me in my holiday baking chaos. Your body responding to the knowledge that your cum is running down my thighs. Thinking back to me waking you this morning, hungry and begging for you. Not uncommon for us, but there was a frantic element to it. A desperation to my movement beneath you, my hands on you. Like I couldn't get close enough to you. Like the entire drive of me being alive was to get your seed into my body. Your skin still tender where I'd scratched you. Shoulder still red where I'd bitten down while cumming.

I look up and smile when I see you. A big smile, genuine and sincere. Your heartbeat picking up at the eye contact. "Hi, baby" I coo at you. "Can you please make sure the kids are still cleaning their rooms? I want them to have space for their cousins tomorrow so we can have some goddamn peace and quiet after dinner". You laugh at the crass language I only use when I'm feeling stressed. My cheeks turn pink as I realize and I smile sheepishly. You notice the blush spreading over my chest, down to the cleavage sticking out the top of my apron. Looking from the swell of my breasts, over the curve of my hips, all the way down to my pink painted toes. Slowly your gaze comes back up. You see me biting on my bottom lip, my eyes getting brighter with anticipation. I see your body responding in your pants, my smile gets even bigger. "The kids are still cleaning, baby", you say, as you begin to come across the kitchen toward me…

*interested in established relationship, romantic role play, slice of life type stuff. All pretend, all online. Nothing real life 👩🏻‍❤️‍👨🏼