Waking up first this morning, I quickly jump into the shower, wanting to make sure my husband watches me dress. When I get out of the shower, I'm dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. I come back into the bedroom and see Dale, my husband, on his phone. He, as he always does, is checking the news before starting his day.
"Good morning honey, sleep well?" I ask casually, dropping my towel on the end of the bed. My nipples harden instantly under the wash of air coming from overhead fan humming above me.
"Mmm, yes. Like a rock. I always sleep well when you make meatloaf the night before," he smirks, looking up at me and admiring my naked body.
"I'll keep that in mind. You know I'd cook more often if I didn't work so late, dear," I sigh, wishing I did indeed have more time.
"No one is stopping you. Quit your job and become a housewife. I don't mind at all," he repeats himself. This is a conversation we've had many times since we've gotten married. He makes more than enough to take care of us, but I was raised to work for what I want.
"Don't start with me, Dale, please," I sigh, heading towards the closet. I look through my wardrobe, searching for my knee length, pencil skirt. "Besides, if I did that, I'd have to start fucking the milk man, or the paper boy," I giggle.
"Hey, no issues by me, as long as I can watch," he laughs with me. I know how serious he is. However, he has no idea what is in store for him later in the evening.