Leather & Love: Backrub Bet

The scent of warmed coconut oil and lavender hung heavy in the air, a deliberate assault on the senses designed to heighten anticipation. The portable massage table, a gleaming, dark mahogany rectangle, dominated our bathroom, bathed in the warm glow of strategically placed, low-wattage bulbs. Soft jazz, barely audible, drifted from hidden speakers, creating an atmosphere of decadent intimacy. The temperature was precisely calibrated, a humid warmth that coaxed my wife, Sarah, to shed her clothes willingly, revealing her skin to my touch. I had rolled up two plush, white towels, anticipating her preference for positioning – one to cradle her knees when she lay on her back, the other to support her ankles when she tilted her stomach towards me.

This wasn’t just a back rub; it was a ritual, a monthly indulgence born from a college football bet gone deliciously astray. We'd started with innocent gestures, a shared pleasure, but over the past decade, it had morphed into something far more intense, a primal dance of desire and surrender. This month, I’d lost the bet, and the price was this exquisite session, a private symphony of touch designed solely for her pleasure.

I began with her feet, gently massaging the soles, releasing the tension that accumulated throughout the day. I worked my thumbs and fingers into the arch, focusing on the sensitive pads, before moving upwards, tracing the curves of her calves. The warmth of the coconut oil seeped into her skin, creating a silky, buttery sheen that begged to be caressed. The scent intensified, a heady blend of tropical sweetness and floral perfume.

Next, I transitioned to her hands and arms, pulling her fingers gently, coaxing out any lingering knots. Her arms relaxed, melting into my palms, a silent invitation for deeper exploration. I paid particular attention to her temples, brushing the hairs between her eyebrows, tracing the contours of her cheekbones and chin, and gently massaging her neck. The aroma of coconut oil permeated every inch of her body, a tangible expression of my devotion.

Then came the true indulgence – the slow, deliberate application of the oil to her stomach and breasts. I let the warm liquid cascade over her skin, pooling in the hollow of her stomach and clinging to her curves. This was the moment, the pause, where I allowed her senses to heighten, anticipating the pleasure to come. With deliberate slowness, I began to stimulate her nipples, applying light pressure, teasing her with the promise of more intense sensations. She moaned softly, her breathing becoming deeper, her pulse quickening.

My right hand, slick with the fragrant oil, traced the sensitive folds of her clitoris, just barely brushing its surface, while my left hand massaged the outer edge of her breasts, following the line of her ribs. The gentle strokes sent shivers down her spine, igniting a fire in her core. She arched her back slightly, leaning into my touch, her eyes closed in blissful anticipation. The air crackled with unspoken desire, a palpable tension that intensified with each passing moment.

As I continued my exploration, I moved my hands along her thighs, pushing gently against her muscles, feeling her body respond to my touch. I occasionally paused, allowing my finger to lightly graze her clitoris, just a fleeting contact, a tantalizing tease. Her lady part responded immediately, releasing a torrent of warm, vibrant fluid, a testament to her arousal. She needed no further encouragement; her body was a willing participant in this sensual dance.

I shifted her position, turning her onto her stomach, allowing me to spend extended time with her back. The feet and calves needed another round of attention, followed by the tense muscles of her shoulders and neck. But it was her booty that truly captivated me, a generous mound of flesh that begged to be worshipped. The anticipation built, a crescendo of lust and longing.

This time, I would not simply stroke and caress; I would delve deeper, exploring every inch of her body with passionate abandon. I held her shoulder with my left hand, applying firm pressure, while my right hand rested firmly on her mound, pulling the two hands together. The touch was deliberate, intentional, designed to bring her to the brink of ecstasy.

As she began to descend into the slot, her muscles tensed, her breathing quickened, and her body arched in anticipation. The scent of coconut oil intensified, enveloping us in a cloud of sensual pleasure. My finger, slick with the warm oil, penetrated her lips, just slightly, while my left hand gently teased her taint and starfish, grazing her sensitive skin. The combination was intoxicating, pushing her closer and closer to the point of release.

Her body bucked against my thumb, a clear signal for more penetration. I obliged, plunging deeper, responding to her every whim. Meanwhile, my left hand continued its exploration of her taint and starfish, teasing her with gentle touches and light pinches. The pleasure was mutual, a shared experience of intense sensuality.

Finally, she erupted in a wave of ecstatic moans, her body convulsing with pleasure. The contractions were powerful, prolonged, a testament to the depth of her arousal. Her eyes fluttered open, filled with a mixture of pain and bliss. I withdrew my thumb slowly, savoring the moment, allowing her to revel in her pleasure.

As she recovered from her intense climax, I covered her with a soft, white blanket, protecting her from the cool night air. She drifted off to sleep, her body relaxed and limp, a picture of perfect serenity.

Looking down at my beautiful wife, bathed in the soft glow of the bathroom lights, I felt a surge of contentment wash over me. This monthly ritual was more than just a back rub; it was a celebration of our love, a testament to our enduring desire. The lost bet had been a small price to pay for this exquisite experience. As I gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, I whispered, “I love you,” knowing that she heard every word.

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Leather & Love: Backrub Bet

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