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A family finds pleasure at home.

His dark hair was longish, but well cut. He was tallish but not some freak of nature. It looked like he might have a nice ass. All in all, she thought, he looked well put together. Like he went to the gym, but didn't obsess over it.

"Yes, but I wouldn't mind some company." Just like that, she had said it. The perfect thing, in just the right tone, and he had sat down, and she had felt like standing outside of herself and shouting "YESSSSS!"

They had had a lovely time, with light conversation and just the right level of veiled sexual tension that she thought things-might-just-work-out. When she asked him what he did for a living, he had said he did something with money that gave her the impression that he managed to skim off a good portion for himself. He was polite, charming. She was flirtatious. After half an hour or so, they had exchanged phone numbers, and as she had watched him walk whistling away she observed that, yes, indeed, his ass filled out those Levi's very well, thank you very much.

They'd gone out a couple of times after that, he drinking beer and she sipping white wine, he'd introduced her to his dashing men friends and their pretty wives and girlfriends, she'd laughed at all his jokes, made no gaffes. It was clear from the look in his eyes and the courtly way he treated her that he thought she was - something, maybe something special. She thought he was just great. And he'd never done more than kiss her and give her a good, healthy squeeze at the end of the night. She'd hinted that she was ready for more, twisting a finger into her hair, holding his gaze just a little longer, lightly pressing her body into his at various times in the night, just to let him know, "Hey, we can go a little farther now... I won't mind." But, after the decent interval after the first few dates when she'd invited him in, he'd laughed telling her, "Not yet dear, we barely know each other." And then, each time, he'd said the most curious thing, "Be a good girl for me."

The last time, though, his goodnight kiss had been especially fervent, as if he'd been searching for something in her. She'd done her best to respond, and she'd ground her crotch into his for what seemed like forever, and she'd felt him respond (and boy, did he respond!!), but instead of coming in, he'd just smiled an especially wide grin, taken a deep breath, kissed the end of her nose, and told her he'd be in touch, but as always, to be a good girl until then. She'd walked inside her apartment, closed the door and leaned back and shook for a full five minutes.

Within ten minutes more, she had gotten herself under the cool covers of her bed. She wondered what he meant by being a good girl. She smiled, rubbing her tummy and thinking about his jawline, the shape of his ears, how she imagined his thighs were shaped beneath his pants. "Do you want me to be a good girl?" she whispered. Her other hand stroked a breast idly, then became more insistent as they sought her nipple. One finger circled the areola, gently at first and then stronger. The thumb joined the finger and lightly pinched her nipple. She sighed as she thought of him kissing it, then using his white teeth and biting, and she in turn pinched harder. "Show me how to be your good girl..."

As she imagined his big hands on her body, his mouth and his tongue abandoning her breast and suckling their way down her flat tummy, she stroked herself with her own small soft hands. She reached down between her legs and lightly brushed her bare pussy, feeling the heat that radiated from her sex. "I want to be your good girl, your best girl..."

Her pussy was soaking.

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