Go grab something to eat and cool down

Hunger takes control, although your stirring hunger for something other than food is knocking pretty hard, you decide to head to the kitchen and cool down the lust in your groin. They've only been here 5 minutes and you've got a tent pole in your shorts. How are you gonna behave when your wife is around?

A swift tug of the fridge door sends it flying open faster than you assumed it would and a tall picture of orange juice dances its way off the top shelf and shatters in a shrapnel filled liquid orange bomb on the marble floor. It brings you out of your trance just enough to scare the bejesus out of you. "FUCK!" you slam the door to the fridge shut in disgust. The door now closed you notice Bailey standing beside the counter next to you, startled by the events that just unfolded but with a cute smirk on her face. Do I still have a boner you think to yourself, looking down to check, "Fuck!" you accidently say outloud.

"I think we already established that hun." Bailey says carefully tip toeing over shards of broken glass towards you. "Do you have a mop and broom?" she asks eyes focused on your midsection as you blush.

"Uhh... What? Yeah, in that closet." You point, stammering knowing that your tent is visible and she is making you pay for it. Bailey walks over to the closet and you notice her strutting as she does it, swaying her ass with a pop from side to side with each step. Her ass isn't large by any means, but fuller than your petite wife Jamie's. The jean skirt she's wearing clinging to her ass cheeks like they were painted on, and you find yourself wishing to be a button on her rear pocket. This isn't helping your hard on. But you can't move, frozen by embarrassment and excitement.

"You don't have to..." you start to say, but Bailey pulls out the mop and starts mopping up the spilled OJ, you watch her intently as she does a quick job of cleaning up but keeps her eyes fixated on yours, playfully running her hands up and down on the upper length of the mop handle with a seductively motion that is not helping the situation in your pants.

You are stuck in a daze for what seems like forever and before you realize and snap yourself out of it, Bailey is bent over in front of you, at the waist purposefully sweeping the last bits of the shattered glass onto the dust pan giving you a perfect view of her ass. You can't help but trace her figure with your eyes, up her slightly tanned inner thighs, into the shadows underneath her list denim skirt to the tender just visible curve of each ass cheek and the glint of a shiny, silvery pair of underwair, thongs if you had to guess but you can't be sure from here.

When you are relieved from your trance you have just enough time to get your whits about you as Bailey backs the few feet up towards you to close the gap as she pretends to be sweeping the last particles up. Before you know it, Bailey's ass is inches from your now undeniable hardon that might as well not even be covered by your cloth shorts.

"That looks like the last of it." Bailey says in a matter of factly voice before purposefully bumping her ass back to rub against the length of your cloth covered cock. She holds it there after slowly gliding against it for a moment. She turns her head over her shoulder to glance at you, biting her lower lip.