a Mrs. Evans story
A future Chris and his wife prepare for another active day in the Evans’ household
Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, fluff, NSFW, hand job
Word Count 1389
“Hey, babe! Did you get the cash from the bank yesterday?” you call to him from the bathroom.
“Yea, what are you doing today?” Chris calls back, his voice raspy and damn sexy in the early morning. “You told me, but I forgot.”
“I have to drive out to the food pantry. I volunteer today and then it’s my turn to carpool Princess and her friends to dance class. I have to be back in town by 3:15 to pick them up at school.”
You step through the bathroom door continuing to rub lotion into your cuticles, wondering when you last had a manicure. Giving up stardom to be a wife and a mom just seemed like a better deal all those years ago. A few small movie roles, a few television pilots, but Mrs. Evans/SuperMom is your favorite role these days. The morning light flashes on your wedding ring, drawing attention to your aging hands. “If I have time, I may go get my nails done. I haven’t done that in ages,” you admit, wiggling your fingers at him, still reclined in bed, glasses propped up on his nose and a script resting on his sculpted chest as he reads.
You smile when he whistles at you. “Nice ass, baby. I’m a lucky man,” he says, his voice dripping with pride.
“You just remember that, Mister,” you reply, putting in your favorite earrings- the ones he gave you for your first Valentine’s Day together. “What have you got planned?” you ask.
His smile shows he’s up to something and his blue eyes hold a devilish charm. “I’m gonna get the kids to school and then I’m meeting Mackie for 18 holes.”
“Hmmm… How many drinks will that be?” You ask, rummaging through the dresser for your favorite pair of jeans.
“Too many,” he guffaws.
“We haven’t had them over for dinner in a while. Invite his family for a BBQ on Saturday?”
“Whatever you say, boss… You look beautiful… don’t go. That’s why your mom is visiting. She wants to get the kids ready for school.”
You giggle. “Honey, you know your daughter will not go anywhere without an Elsa braid and she won’t let anyone else but me do it. Raincheck?”
“Hell. Why did I ever let her watch that old movie? How did she get so spoiled?” He laughs, watching you shimmy the jeans over your thick thighs, hopping lightly to pull them over your rounded hips.
Dripping with sarcasm, your voice battles back. “Hmmm… I have no idea who dotes on her every whim…”
“She’s just like her mother. A spoiled brat,” he chuckles, rolling to place his glasses and script on the bedside table. As he stretches you admire the way his muscles ripple across his back; the taper of his waist.
“Oh really? Just for that, I’m NOT staying here to play with you, I’m going to help Mom. You know the boys will be wound up for their swim lessons after school. She’s getting to old for all that noise and nonsense.”
As you start to leave for the door, Chris calls out to you, “Hey, Mrs. Evans? Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Rolling your eyes, you walk back to the bed and give him a quick kiss, knowing he’s going to pull you on top of him. He does and you giggle, settling in by his side. “I know you always build 10 minutes extra in the morning schedule. Stay here. Besides, I thought you needed cash for the gas station?”
He throws back the sheet and a $50 bill is sticking out of the waistband of his black Calvins.
“God, that’s why money is so dirty,” you laugh.
“Eww,” he groans in disgust.
“You know honey, you don’t have to pay me,” you drop your voice, running your nails under the waist of his pants, as his pulse quickens, “I’d play with you for free.”
“Aw, fuck,” he hisses out as you reach down his pants and grasp his firm cock. “Damn your hands are cold.”
“Let me warm them up,” you suggest, tenderly caressing his balls, rolling them gently between your fingers as he toys with your hair. His sweet moan of delight fills your ears as you help him prepare for his day in the most loving way possible.
You glide your hands up over his soft skin, running your fingertips gently over the veiny ridges that grace his cock. He twitches and jerks under your dainty caress. You extract your hand from his warmth and pull down on the waistband allowing him freedom. With loving care, you wiggle down the bed, resting your head at the start of his V. Age has only made this man more beautiful to you and you respect his desire to stay in shape. You wrap your fingertips around his shaft, tugging up and smile to yourself at his sharp inhale as he winds his fingers in your hair. You pull him towards you and delicately kiss the tip of his head, wrapping your tongue around him for just a brief moment and collecting the sweet drop of precum he expels.
“Shit, only ten minutes?” he complains gruffly.
His voice adds to your building desire and your pussy squeezes repeatedly. You slide your denim clad leg over his, each movement pushing the seam of your tight jeans between your folds. His free hand cups under your ass and caresses between your legs.
You flick your tongue across his slit and return your hands to their task. “I tried to wake you up for a shower, but you wouldn’t have it.” Your left arm is somewhat trapped under you, but you position that hand to continue massaging his sac while your other hand grasps around his girth. Teasing him with light strokes, you use the roll of his own skin to guide you up and down. You sigh contently as he expands and grows stiff under your manipulation. Slowly, you build to your natural pace; a rhythm you’ve known for years. The strokes are exactly what he needs, pulling up slowly, just under his tip and twisting to push back down hard against his base. The repeated tugs are his undoing and you can hear the smack of his lips as they part and release a quiet moan.
As he starts to buck beside you, you turn your head slightly and kiss the protruding vein on his Adonis, applying pressure with your tongue before adding your teeth. Branding him with your mark for the day as he comes in your hands, spilling his seed across his chest, before halting his rise in the comfort of your warm bed together.
You roll back and smile at your work, licking your finger for a drop of his sweetness. “Goood morning!” he chuckles, wrapping the sheet over his mess and pulling you up to his mouth. “You’re worth every penny,” he teases as he kisses your plump, needy lips.
You both groan at the knock on the door, but smile at the innocent little voice asking to have her hair fixed. “Mommy will be out in a minute, sweetie. Go tell the boys to be ready!”
You kiss your charming husband again, his beard showing more gray these days, scratching against your cheek. Your tongue lingers inside his mouth and pulls out with a flick of your tongue against his teeth. “Well, Mr. Evans, once again, you’ve made us late! You have five minutes to get ready, get the kids in the car, and head to school.”
As you rise from the bed, Chris squeezes your hip. “I love you, Mrs. Evans. There’s another $50 in the top drawer. I’ll take the girls to dance, you go get your nails done. Your hands were so good to me I think they deserve special treatment.” He takes your hand, kissing the palm. “For that, I’ll give you gas money any day!”
Grabbing the money from the bed, you bounce to the dresser, announcing, “I still would have done it for free.”
He pulls on his jeans, laughing. “And that’s how you earned the title ‘Mrs. Evans.’”
You roll your eyes at him and playfully toss him a t-shirt as you exit the room, yelling at the kids to get moving. “Hurry up, gang, Daddy made us late. Again!”
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