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Sometimes all the wrong reasons makes something perfect.
Well at least out here she would be away from his eyes and be able to concentrate on dinner. So far so good, but she needed to get the main course out of the oven. As she bent over and opened the oven door she felt rather than saw Ricky's presence at the doorway and she turned towards him. She smiled, but inwardly she felt the jolt of passion ripple through her body. She was now alone with Ricky, Tom still being in the other room. Ricky was looking straight at her and she could read the desire in his eyes. He was leaning against the doorframe with arms folded and seemed to be weighing her up. Deciding how should he approach her? Suddenly Sara felt an overwhelming need to make the first move. She stepped over to the table and slipped her shoe off her foot, letting it fall to the floor. She put her arm down on the top and leaned a little forward so her chest was in profile from his line of view, the curve of her ass accentuated. She looked around the table and her eyes lighted upon the olive oil jar. She picked it up and looked up at him. Her mind was in a little fog and she watched her actions as if scripted from somewhere else. She reached round behind her and undid the button that held her skirt. She slowly pulled the zip down ever so slightly to ease the tension in the material and then pulled her blouse out baring her belly button to him. Ricky is standing and watching, mesmerised by her actions, wondering what she is about to do. She picks up the bottle of virgin oil and pours it over her belly and with her free hand she rubs it around the flesh above her skirt. He watches it glisten in the glare of the spotlights overhead. The oil oozes over her flesh and she starts to pull her skirt forward at the hem and moves the oil across. It is now running down the curve of her belly and disappearing behind the defensive wall of her skirt. She looks up at Ricky as she continues to pour oil over herself and he imagines how the oil must be pooling inside her panties, swirling around her opening and making her clit slippery and wet. Ricky stands transfixed by this vision, a smile plays upon his lips, but the spell is broken by the sound of Tom calling from the other room:
"Is everything OK?"
Ricky steps back into the dining room to head Tom off as Sara hastily puts the bottle of oil back on the table and adjusts her clothing. She can feel the slipperiness of her panties, now soaked in the oil, sliding on her flesh and she sways her hips from side to side to feel the movement gliding across her well oiled flesh. She looks down and between her legs, twin columns standing perfectly straight and parallel, she sees drops of oil from her crotch splashing against the floor tiles. She leans her back against the fridge and closes her eyes. She cannot believe how alive she feels, how she tingles right across her skin at the feelings that her actions have stirred up in her. She could not believe what she had just done, and she slipped one well-oiled hand into her blouse to massage slowly her right breast. It felt so good the feel of the oil on her erogenous and engorged nipples, made their sensitivity so much more heightened. Forcing herself back to the job in hand she collected the dinner and took it through.
Sara is sitting opposite her husband and Ricky sits to her left. She again slips her shoes off under the table and feels the touch of Ricky's leg against hers as she serves the food. She finds it hard to concentrate on what she is doing as she becomes so preoccupied by his touch, it seems to start a craving inside her, one that she has to satisfy at all costs. Her head screams at her that these thoughts are wrong, that her husband, whom she loves so much is sitting opposite oblivious to all that is going on, and she must behave more responsibly.
After the meal Ricky sits opposite her and she lays semi-sprawled on the settee.