Part 2 of Summer Vacation
A Mrs. Evans Story
*a Chris Evans fan fic*
Future Chris and his wife enjoy some time alone in the RV
Warnings: NSFW, language, adult situations, food play, analingus, fingering, penetrative sex
Word Count: 2207
Humming a little tune, I stir the brownie batter and whip it as smoothly as I can, missing my stand mixer and some of the other comforts of home. I smile to myself when the door to the RV flies open then shut, and Chris curses when the door won’t latch. I look over my shoulder at him, laughing. “You’re gonna have to get that fixed. You keep telling the kids not to slam it so it won’t break and you’re the jackass that broke it.”
He sighs deeply and rolls his eyes. I turn back to my task of mixing and he comes behind me, pushing my hips against the counter, his cock already hard and pressing against my ass.
“I thought we ordered pizza so there wouldn’t be any dishes to clean. Why are you baking brownies?” he asks, brushing my hair over my shoulder and nibbling my neck.
“I wanted the batter. I needed something chocolate and sweet.”
“I got something sweet for you,” he suggests as he pushes against me again, his hand coming up to cup under my breast. Noting the lack of bra, he asks, “You showered?”
“Yup,” I reply, looking over my shoulder at him. “All ready to watch a movie and hang out with you till the kids get back.”
Chris reaches his other hand over my shoulder and dips his finger into the batter. He pulls it up and the chocolate gooey mess drips from his fingers as he brings it to my mouth. A glob lands on my chest right above the lace trim of my tank top. He turns me slightly in his arms and eyes it lustfully. Diving to lick it away, a wicked grin graces his face as he raises his cocky eyebrow at me. My breath catches, and my nipples harden at his touch, straining against the thin fabric of my top. “Damn, I still fall for that eyebrow,” I laugh, caressing it with my thumb.
“Still got it, babe.” Winking, he places his finger in my open mouth, wanting to share with me. My tongue wraps around his finger as my mouth closes on him, sucking the chocolate from his warm skin. I savor the flavor and tease my tongue on the lightly calloused pad of his finger tip. I giggle as he pulls his finger lose, scraping against my teeth as his body shakes from a slight chill, his reaction to my tease.
Dipping his finger back in the batter, he moans quietly, “My turn. I wanna taste some.” He drags his fingertips across the top of my shoulder, the chocolate covered finger held out of the way as he moves the spaghetti strap down my arm before smearing the chocolate down the side of my neck.
“Aw, Chris, now I’m gonna be a sticky mess!” I fuss, secretly pleased with his attentions.
His mouth starts on my shoulder, kissing and licking up the sweetness, moving towards my neck. His teeth gently drag across my skin, his tongue leaving a trail of wet in its wake. His other hand reaches under the edge of my short shorts and teases along the edge of my lace panties. “Mmhmm… You’re wet,” he whispers in my ear, a chill running down my spine.
“Yup, and Bud and I had a chat. He knows NOT to bring the other two back early this time.”
“What? How can he be fourteen and not realize ‘old people’ still have sex?! Doesn’t he live in the same house with us? How did he not know?! And your son called us OLD!”
“Yea, that was a dumb,” I laugh, turning the sweet sound to a moan as his lips nip at my flesh again. “You didn’t say it, did you?”
“No,” he sighs bitterly, licking the remaining chocolate from my neck, his beard tickling me. “But really, how often do you get the opportunity to say ‘if the trailer’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’?’”
I take a spoonful of batter and seductively lick the spoon as he watches me. “And you wonder why the kid needs therapy?”
He pushes me into the counter, a little roughly. “Hey, mood killer? Wanna talk about taxes and funeral plots, too?”
“Sorry, sorry,” I push my ass back against him. “Stupid ‘mom brain.’ Got any ideas on how to clear it?”
Pushing my shorts down quickly, he turns us so he can push me onto the bench seat at the table in the confined space. “All fours, babe,” he orders. I tug my top over my head, revealing my toned naked form to him. I bite back my laughter when he hits his head on the hanging lamp and curses. “Chocolate and sweet? Hmmm… I like that idea,” he announces.
The metal mixing bowl clangs against the counter as he pulls it to him and I instinctively shy away when the cold batter dribbles across the top curve of my ass. “How many squats today?” he asks, appreciatively.
“Two hundred and fifty. Tomorrow’s a rest day,” I answer as he runs his finger through the mess of chocolate he’s making.
I look over my shoulder and the look on his face is pure Evans. “Are you finger painting?” I ask with a smile.
“I always liked art. Edible just makes it more fun.” He pushes down on my back, lowering me to crouch back on my heels. I stretch my arms out in front of me, pushing back against the wall, enjoying his playfulness.
I hear his belt buckle hit the floor and his foot hit the cabinet. “Dammit,” he mutters. “I shoulda just carried you to the bed, but I didn’t wanna hear you bitch about brownie batter on the sheets.”
“Shut up, Evans.”
He kneels behind me, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel. He grasps my hips and massages me roughly, pulling me back to him. Goosebumps cover my flesh when he begins to use his perfect tongue to clean the chocolate mess. His wide oral muscle makes quick work of the cleaning process, his lips following after each swipe to deliver gentle kisses. His moans hit to my core and I’m practically dripping on the leather seat, writhing and pushing myself to his face. He chuckles at my silent message. “Almost clean,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “Good things come to those who wait.”
His hands spread my cheeks, tugging and pulling as his mouth continues to cover my skin, moving closer and closer to my hole. I hold my breath in anticipation and I’m not disappointed when his lips cover my sweet rim and he kisses me intimately. One hand reaches through my legs, seeking my other entrance, plunging in two fingers quickly. With his hands and mouth working his magic, he knows how to quickly bring me to the edge; he’s had years of practice and tonight there is no time for games. “Shit,” I hiss. “It’s not enough, I need you to fuck me, babe.”
Chris chuckles, his lips pulling away from the suction on my pretty pink asshole. He remedies that quickly by returning to his kisses, making use of his tongue as he dips gently inside. I moan in pleasure and a thought enters my mind, “Not this time, mister. No licking brownie batter there. It’s good for five minutes, but not worth the troubles later.”
He taps my ass, acknowledging he heard and understood me, and I look over my shoulder again, just seeing the top of his spiky summer hair. His fingers pick up speed, twirling and scissoring, and curving against my walls in our own practiced rhythm. I crave a verbal release, but we’ve learned over the years that’s not acceptable in family oriented campgrounds. I quietly hum as his tongue pushes a little deeper in one space and he teases around my clit in the other. So close to the edge but I need more. “Chris,” I whine. “Help.”
A third finger isn’t what I had in mind, but it does the trick. I shatter and come, but not hard enough, not with the relief I need. His mouth releases its hold on my ass, but his hands still work their magic. His foot hits the cabinet again and I can hear him changing position on the floor. He quickly pulls out his fingers and grabs my hips, pulling me off the bench and down on the floor, into his lap. My pussy still clenches, needing more, needing to be full. He rests me momentarily on his thigh and I twist to kiss him, ravenously taking his mouth, not caring where it’s been. He holds his stiff cock, so beautiful, in place, as he guides me with his other hand to slide down on him.
Chris leans forward, holding my back against his chest, reaching to grab my tits with his free hand. I am seated on him, pulling my feet behind me, resting against his legs, gasping as he fills my need. My space stretches for him, swallowing him deep inside. His hands slide down my ribcage and hold tight on my hips, pushing and pulling me against him. I lean forward on his strong thighs and grind against the base of his cock, turned on by the rapid sounds of his breathing, and the quiet moans he makes. He uses his strong hands to bounce me on his tool, sliding one hand down between my open legs, reaching for my sweet button to signal my release.
Her growls in my ear, “I wanna play forever, but the kids…”
“I know,” I whine. “Roll me; fuck me into the floor.”
“Whatever you say, Mrs. Evans.” He obliges my request quickly, hooking one arm under my leg and raising it before thrusting deep inside then pulling out slowly. “Just a few of those,” I sigh, smacking his ass, the sharp sound of my flesh against his like music to my ears.
He grunts, repeating his actions and I reach for the side of his face, drawing his attention to my eyes. “I love you, baby.”
I can’t take much more of being pushed into the hard floor. His eyes focused on mine, I smack his ass again with my other hand.
“You’re bad; that’s it,” he grits through his teeth, letting go of my leg and falling to me, his mouth on mine, hot and wet, sweat clinging to his beard. His hard chest pushes against my breasts and I arch into him. I never exactly know quite what his last minute move will be, but it’s always just what I need, and not always the same, as he pummels into me, pushing me over the edge.
Rising up for his own release, he hits his head on the underside of the table. “Dammit!” he barks, continuing his penetrating bursts before his seed spills into me, filling me and when it’s too much, his heat runs between my legs, pooling on the floor under me as he falls next to me.
I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight. “Good job for an old man,” I tease, stroking the patch of gray in his hair that I adore so much. He chuckles and nips at my breast, rolling to reach the bowl of brownie batter.
“Not too bad yourself,” he teases. “See. Old people can still do it.”
“Stop!” I fuss before he can reach into the chocolate batter. “Your hands!”
Confused at first, he stops himself in mid-air, sitting up before setting the bowl on the bench we didn’t just fuck on. “Yea, I got it,” he nods. “Why don’t you go shower again? I’ll wash up, myself and the leather seat, maybe mop the floor,” he grins when I flip him off, “and get the brownies in the oven, and when the kids get back we can have ice cream with them at the campfire?”
I smile when he uses the spoon to drop one last glob of rich chocolate onto my breast, suckling it clean, before helping me to my feet. “Cut the roll of cookie dough in the fridge. We can’t use sex brownie batter for the kids; that’s all kinds of wrong,” I laugh.
Before I step into the other room, I turn back to him and catch him licking from the spoon. A dribble of batter clings to his lip and I step back over to kiss him. “I love you, Mr. Evans. Thank you for an enjoyable fuck; I needed that.”
“And thank you for letting me fuck you. I mean, I’m sure the creeper across the way would have been available.” When I punch his arm, he grimaces, laughing and rubbing the spot. “Hey, that arm still hurts sometimes, you know.” He rolls his eyes, lit up with mirth and a tease to his voice. “Still not into being a swinger? No? He watched you all afternoon-“
“Shut it, Evans. Enough, you’re the only man, or cock, for me.”
“I am quite desirable, and lovable.”
“And an asshole,” I call over my shoulder, stopping again at the door, smiling at him.
“Babe, that was quite memorable… Go shower. I love you, too, Mrs. Evans.”
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