Coat

“Let me take your coat,” I said loudly, drawing attention to the fact that but for a pair of curious though well-behaved cats, we were all alone.  I tossed it on the couch and pulled him close by his belt loops.  He took the hint and began undoing his buckle.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” he asked as I fumbled for his cock.  “I thought we were going straight to dinner.”

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted,” I answered around a full mouth.  “I didn’t want to put on my clothes and then have to take them right back off again.”

He didn’t seem to mind that our dinner was slightly postponed.  I could tell this by the rigidity of his cock in my mouth and the insistence with which he pushed down my panties.  Down but not off, and as quickly as possible I was on my knees in front of the couch with my head pushed into his recently abandoned coat.

So fast was the onslaught that I couldn’t catch my breath.  Drool pooled in my mouth and I had to bite — something.  His hands were too far away and unlike our usual location, the couch had no sheet, comforter or pillows covering it.  Only his leather jacket.  So I bit it, trying for no good reason to stifle a scream.

The coat hardly muffled the sound, but it did give me something to gnaw on.  An hour later as we sat at dinner I glanced over at his jacket folded over the back of the chair.  “I hope I didn’t leave any teeth marks.”

He gave me the look that usually means he wants to eat me alive and said,  “I hope you did.”

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