Copyright© 2010 Eve Langlais

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house

Not a cock was a thrusting, not even aroused.

The slaves were all hung spread eagle with care,

In hopes Master Nick soon would be there.

I, in my corset and Andrew in his strap,

Had just settled down for a well-sated nap.

I slammed my notebook shut when I heard familiar footsteps, and just in time too for Andrew came into my study-early from work for once-still dressed in his office suit.

“You’re home early.” I stated the obvious trying to give my nerves time to calm down. A few minutes earlier and I would have been caught with my hand in my cookie jar so to speak. As it was, the smell of my orgasm hung in the air, an erotic perfume my husband didn’t seem to notice. I furtively wiped my sticky fingers on my pant leg.

He shrugged. “With Christmas only a few days away, the office is almost empty and most of my clients are on vacation. Hungry?” he inquired, holding up and rattling visibly steaming bags of food.

“Starved.” I shoved my notebook under a pile of papers and stood up with a smile, which might have shone a tad too bright. The crotch of my panties was still damp from my recent bout of self-pleasure, and I wondered if the moisture would seep through my slacks. Andrew turned away from me and headed to the kitchen, oblivious to my racing heart and guilty conscience. Married for almost twenty-five years and hiding things from my husband. I didn’t know what was worse. The secret I hid or the fact he didn’t seem to perceive something was amiss. How could he not realize our relationship had changed? Or should I say, I had changed. Hell, how could he miss my flushed cheeks and the smell of my orgasm in the air?