A busy Sunday was behind us, leaving that nagging sadness of another weekend come to fold. The daylong hustle of church, a social lunch, errands and food shopping had only led us home to laundry and cleaning. Our grown children were home as well, and at the last minute before we dragged ourselves upstairs to the promised land of bed they had invited friends over. Not exactly the formula for a romantic evening, but we were now nearly too tired to consider that.
Crisscrossing our master bedroom like a pair of worn-out zombies we shed the day's clothes. She slipped into a nightshirt from last Christmas, I put on shorts that I used to wear to the gym when we both seemed to have more time and energy. She poured us each a generous dram of LaPhraiog and we clinked he glasses, smiling at each other through readers slipped down our noses. We had survived the day, and sometimes that is enough.
As we sit up in bed reading I heard a subtle sigh. "I want it to be Friday again."
"I know. It was a good one."
"Today just slipped away from us. And I still have so much that needs to get done... I had a Thursday deadline to get my reports in now, tomorrow I have to have that meeting with the new director and I just don't feel ready..."
"Sunday scaries?" I asked. She nodded, and folded her head into my shoulder.
"What can I do for you?" I asked, stroking her hair. I sensed her tension through stiff shoulders and the slightest quiver in her voice, those subtle nuances one tunes into that others might miss. Three decades of togetherness has its advantages.
"Nothing," she sighed, without hope for the moment. "I just hope I sleep."
"I can do something about that, Babygirl..." I replied, my voice deepening intentionally, almost comically.
She giggled. "No, it's okay... I'm fine."
I pulled back and repositioned so I could look her dead in the eye. I stroke her cheek with one hand, my other hand tenderly holding her forearm. "I wasn't offering a favor. I love you. May I massage your back?"
"You don't need to... really."
I smiled, reaching for the oil on her bedstand. "I know I don't need to... but I want to. And that means YOU need to roll over, babygirl." She smiled, exhaling slowly and obediently turning and surrendering. I slipped her glasses from her face and slipped the nightshirt up to expose her bare back. As I sat up to straddle her, she removed it completely. "Good girl," I whispered, leaning forward into her ear, my weight expressed over her.
I took a moment to find some suitable music on my tablet, then poured the oil into my hands to warm it. The oil was but a prop, this was about flesh to flesh, love to love. I pressed the small of my palm into her back on either side of her spine, my fingers pressing into the pressure points of her neckline, and her moan of approval was as fragrant and rewarding as the oil itself. More oil, more pressure as my hands gripped around her rib cage, making her torso glisten. Every movement had the effect of wringing out the stress from her tense body like a sponge.
I gently pulled one arm out from where it rested her head, and let it lay limp by her side. Starting at her shoulder I massaged the oil deep into her warm skin, pulling her arm and kneading the tight muscles. My thumb pressed into her palm and ran my fingers through hers in a dance. She let me carry her limp arms like a marionette. Any time I sensed pullback I would softly command, "Relax" and she would surrender yet another limb to me. I repeated the ritual with her other arm. She thanked me, I shushed her. "I'm not done yet."
Shifting downward, I tugged at her panties, slipping them down and off her legs. She giggled as I let the cool oil drip over her perfect, apple-shaped backside, then she moaned with approval as I worked it in. I kissed each sweet soft cheek and she giggled again, so I gladly repeated the motion. I ran the oil over my hands generously and pulled it down her thighs and calves, slowly, working out every perceptible knot.
When I bent her knee and raised her foot she swooned, "Ooooohhhh you are SO good to me," making me smile, responding only with slowly massaging every inch of her feet, top and bottom, sweet toe by toe, carefully resisting the urge to tickle and cherishing every precious second as I loved every square inch of her.
I lowered myself onto her to caress her, the bulge of my arousal pressed between the cheeks of her soft, perfect ass. "Mmmmmmm" she moaned with an audible grin. "That was heavenly."
"Roll over, baby girl," I whisper. "I'm not done yet."
As she turned to face me I reached for a small jar and her favorite toy, and she grinned with anticipation, no longer weary but wanton, no longer tense but sensual. Meeting her gaze, I lowered myself inch by inch between her raised up knees until my chin grazed the soft lips of her damp cunt. My tongue darted out attacking her clit, just for a second, then slowly cascaded down her lips, parting them as I went. She chuckled, then signed, then moaned with a shudder as my mouth covered her wet mound. My tongue raked back and forth across her hardening clit and I hummed a soft moan to make it vibrate just a bit. I could taste her getting wetter... and wetter.
Knowing I now had her undivided attention and helplessness, I raised up and passionately kissed her inviting mouth, letting her taste her own juices as I reached for her toy. I laid next to her as I dabbed just a few drops of lubricant on her waiting and hungry cunt, spreading it onto her soft slick lips before sliding her toy into place, turned on low. Our two hands entwined together, we guided it in as a team as I blew into her ear.
“I want you...” she whispered, looking pleadingly into my eyes.
“Shhhhh,” I whispered. “Let me watch.”
“But I feel guilty...” she whimpered as my own hard cock nakedly rode her thigh.
“Please stop thinking that this is somehow a sacrifice for me.”
I slowly twisted the vibrator back and forth, in and out, letting the extension tease her clit just enough. I watched her eyes roll back as she allowed herself to be awash in a sea of freedom from responsibility, freedom from reciprocation, freedom from all the lists running in her head. I listened to her breathing quickening, her soft moan turning to a high pitched mewl for help.
“May I lay on my stomach please?” She cried. This was not a polite request. She knew she needed permission. I stroke her cheek, smiling silently and treasuring her beautiful face until she asked for a second, more desperate time when I allowed it.
I laid my arm over her back, pressing down, letting her know I control her and own her and everything about her. My wife, a terribly accomplished and brilliant woman, was reduced to a quivering and whimpering mess, and it was heavenly.
“May I come sir?”
“Not yet.”
She groaned in frustration and couldn’t see my satisfied smile, my sadistic grin that just wanted to make her wait a little longer for no other reason than I was selfish and never wanted this to end. I wanted her this euphoric over me for the rest of my life. And yet, I knew I needed to put her out of her misery.
Oh GODDD!!! PLEASE may I come now sir?”
I chuckled a bit. “You may babygirl.”
With that she groaned a bit too loudly, so in deference to the houseguests downstairs I firmly cupped my hand over her mouth, which not only silenced her but sped up the process of a very powerful climax which rode on the tail of an even more powerful one. I removed my hand as she quieted and I held her tight, spooning her from behind with my arm firmly slid between her beautiful breasts. I could feel her breathing quiet and she slipped off to sleep. It would be another wide awake hour for me before I would let her go.
I will never regret watching her that night or the many other times I have done the same. I cherish her beauty and my ability to exclusively bring her to the peak of that mountain, again and again.
There will always be time to fuck.
Sometimes I get to watch.
