"I had a dream last night," I say, my voice low. "I was wearing this red t-shirt. It was old, well worn, torn in places. And I was waiting for you to get home. I was all hot, excited. I could feel my clit throbbing between my legs, but I wasn't doing anything about it, I was waiting for you. But I was in the kitchen, making dinner. Just standing there, chopping up vegetables and not in the bed. Want to know why?" I didn't wait for him to answer. "Because in the dream, we had this arrangement. If I was wearing that shirt, it meant one thing only."

I gave his cock a slow, strong pull.