Toweling Thoughts

Satisfied with how clean he felt, he turned off the shower's water and reached for the nearby towel. While he was towelling off, his wife informed him through the closed bathroom door that the clothes she had selected for him were laid out and ready on the bed. There was a hint of urgency in her voice, but he knew her well enough to know that she was just anxious about the big event this evening. He wasn't a very good dresser and had no objection to her choosing his outfit for the evening. It was an important event, of the 'see and be seen' kind. It was not really his thing; he'd rather sit comfortably around a table in t shirt and his favourite pair of pants, with two buddies, just talking about random stuff, drinking a few beers. But instead the evening would have to be spent standing around looking formal, holding an expensive drink in a fancy glass. And of course, a lot of pretending to be interested in some twat boasting about how he's such a well-connected twat with oh so many friends in high places he's on first name basis with. Blech.

But her career required it, and he was quite happy to sacrifice the occasional evening for her. She really didn't like these events either, she'd much rather sit around alone at home in her most comfortable pyjamas. They both faked their way through those evenings, pretending to be impressed by the boasting and faking awe at the tales of wasting money on whatever is in vogue now. Last time it was a new luxury brand of silver drinking bowls for cats. Not gold, that would be crass. Well, the actual reason is that too many 'commoners' have golden items nowadays. But they did come decorated with gemstones, because Sir Mittens demands the best, and how else would house guests know you've got more money than sense?

They both helped each other get through the evening without breaking character. It's why they always walked arm in arm. The physical contact allowed them to sense each others mood and to communicate non-verbally. For example, if he was getting annoyed at the boastful tales of money wasted, his muscles started tensing up and the look on his face gradually began to lose its fake smile. She would then gently rub his arm to help him keep his calm. But most of the time he had to rescue her. If the situation became too stressful for her, maybe the person they were talking to was absolutely essential to her career and she was stressing out, she'd sweat and sometimes he could feel her heartbeat in her arm. If he thought she was getting close to breaking, he'd give an excuse and drag her off. Where to didn't really matter, as long as it got her out of the conversation. His personal favourite was pretending to suddenly notice a refill of an item at the buffet. All that delicious food and you're supposed to stand around and talk instead of enjoying it.

He did try to limit the escape trips to the buffet. She too loved the buffet, but she rarely ever had the chance to actually eat from it. Her social anxiety would twist around and convince her everyone was staring at her eating, judging and gossiping. Proper ladies don't eat, she figured. Ever. They just look pretty and die. But she had nothing to worry about in his mind. She always seemed stunningly beautiful in those expensive dresses. And he couldn't rationally explain it, but her high heels did do something for him. And helping her take the dress off at the end of the evening. Usually nothing happened, these evenings were very draining for the both of them. But still, there are worse ways to end an evening than carefully unzipping a dress.

"Are you still in there? You need to get dressed!" His wife's voice sounded more stressed than before.

"Sorry, I was daydreaming while towelling off. I'll be right out," he said apologetically while tying the towel around his waist, but it got snagged on something.

He looked down, at his full erection keeping the towel from easily closing. For a second he considered jacking off, but it wouldn't be right, he needed to get dressed and soothe his wife's nerves. It'll go away on its own, he thought as he adjusted the towel so that his erection could stick out unhindered. It was a simple matter of starting in front instead of at his hip. It looked a bit unorthodox, with everything out in the open, but the towel wrap held and it was just for a short walk to the next door bedroom anyway. He opened the bathroom door and began walking to the bedroom, to get dressed, as instructed. He was immediately greeted by his wife explaining her fashion choices for him for the evening.

"Ah finally, this time I opted for a maroon coloured tie, it combines well with..." She stopped mid-sentence and looked down. "What are you doing?" she asked.

He responded calmly, "Going to the bedroom? To get dressed? For the evening?"

"So you should be! But why are you...," she waved her hand up and down at his erection, "at attention?"

"Oh, that. I was daydreaming about you. It'll go away, don't worry, I'll get dressed."

"How can you be thinking about sex at a time like this? We have to get ready!"

"I wasn't, and I will be. It'll go away, don't worry."

He must have been in the bathroom longer than he thought he was, as she was already wearing her dress and in full make up. Then again, she usually was already in her dress and in full make up an hour before they had to leave, spending the rest of the time making tiny adjustments. Sometimes spending five minutes to pluck a single eyebrow hair. Or half an eyebrow if he didn't calm her down.

"You men do have it easy," she said, looking at his erection.

He jokingly defended himself, "Hey, it's your fault too, you do look beautiful in that dress." He started to walk to the bedroom again.

"Stop," she commanded.

He stopped and turned partially around to ask her "Are you OK?"

"Yes. Yes I am. But I can't let you go like this." He noticed stress in her voice, but it was different than before. This was more like how she sounded when she was trying to get that darn eyebrow hair for five minutes. Focussed on getting a tiny detail right. He wondered what was going on.

"We'll have to fix this. You can't get dressed like this."

"I can, I have before, it's OK."

"No. I want to help you with this."

"Huh? Oooh. You mean, sex?"

"Yes. That usually makes it go down." That stung a little, but yeah, he wasn't a two-round guy.

"But honey, you're already dressed. And in make up. And your hair is done."

"I know." She kneeled in the hallway. "We'll have to be careful."

"Oh. I think I see your plan."

This was most definitely an unexpected turn of events, but he was on board for this plan. He glanced at the clock in the hallway. There was plenty of time left and spending it like this did appeal to him a lot more than trying to convince her that her eyebrows were perfect and had been perfect for the last ten minutes. He repositioned his feet to match her knees. She opened her mouth and moved towards his cock, stopping to say "No touching," without looking up. He could feel her breath on his tip and said, "I'll keep my hands on my back," while putting his arms behind his back, each hand on the opposing elbow. Reassured that he wouldn't intentionally, or unintentionally, wreak havoc with her hair, she said "Good," and focussed entirely on the task at hand.

While staring at it, she slowly put her lips over the top of his penis, taking in the top few centimetres without touching it, then closing down and slowly sliding back up while sucking. She closed her eyes and repeatedly did that motion. He looked down at the top of her head moving back and forth. Her hands lay on her knees. She didn't need them for this. She seemed very concentrated, like she was when fixing a make up detail, but this time instead of plucking a hair or adjusting eye shade, her attention was fully on his penis. He still didn't know what to make of it, but if there was a detail that needed to be taken care of, he certainly preferred a blowjob over obsessing over make up.

Again she lowered her mouth over his penis without touching it, then closed her lips and pulled back up whilst sucking, but this time she added a tongue swirl when she reached the end and kept the tip in her mouth. She curled her lips out a bit, while keeping tight contact, and moved up and down over the tip while licking it with her tongue. It was a good thing that he had locked his arms because it felt amazing and he had to fight the urge to reach out and touch her head. She smacked his thighs with her hands, as he had subconsciously begun to make hip thrusts. He apologized, "Sorry, I was focusing on my arms. You're doing a very good job."

She had given him the occasional blowjob before, but this one was something else. Just in case this was a one time thing, he tried to etch everything into his memory. The towel, still tied around waist. Her head methodically moving. The tongue swirls. The suction. Her breathing. Her beautiful dress, ending above her knees. He couldn't see her chest from this angle, but he knew what she looked like in that dress. He imaged they would both be swaying a little. She kept going methodically.

He was getting close to cumming, so he warned her. "I'm close. It's very good. Keep going." She knew him well enough to know he was almost there, and he felt awkward announcing it, but he didn't want to take any chances with the dress, make up or hair. He didn't realise, but that's why she changed her technique to keeping the tip in her mouth, in close contact with her lips, and used a lot of suction and pre-emptive swallowing. She didn't want any drops falling on her dress, be it her saliva or his cum. The slight outward curl of her lips was to avoid smudging the lipstick, she'd curl them out further but this was as far as she could curl them with his cock between them. The tongue swirls kept things lubricated. It was a very happy coincidence that he seemed to like this method so much, she thought to herself.

When he let out a combination of a sigh and low "ooohh", she knew what it meant and she raised her tongue, touching it to the roof her mouth while pausing all other movements. Her intention was to shield herself and avoid coughing or choking if it went down the wrong part of her throat or came out more forcefully than usual. He had accidentally surprised her before, and she didn't want to take any chances this time. Feeling her tongue flick past his tip just as he reached his peak was unexpected, but it felt fantastic. Excellent timing of her. His mind did want to say a warning but his body seemed stuck in that low "oooohh". His cum shot out and he could tell it hit the back of her tongue. A realization crossed his mind, so that's why she did that. Clever.

Having successfully shielded herself, she lowered her tongue again and swallowed. Then she put as much suction as she could and swallowed a few more times. Confident that nothing would immediately drip out, she gently but forcibly pushed his pelvis away from her. He knew what she was worried about and immediately took a few steps back, so that if there was any dripping, it wouldn't be on her dress.

As she started getting up, he turned sideways and reached out his hand to help her up. His erection, safely pointed away from her, began to wilt. She smiled, pleased with her work. "See? Now you can get dressed." He nodded and responded, "That was amazing. Thank you for your help." While he was putting on his clothes, she checked her make up in the mirror. She didn't even have to redo the lipstick. Excellent. And no drips on her dress. Her hair was still perfect too. Just that one hair there. Wasn't that one a bit longer than the rest?