Friday Night Fixation

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed a monotonous tune as I locked up for the night, the familiar click of the lock a small victory against the day’s relentless grind. Braces, those infernal metal restraints, were finally off until Monday. Relief washed over me, a welcome wave after hours spent adjusting and tightening. My thoughts immediately drifted to the upcoming Friday, a night dedicated to pure, unadulterated pleasure with my husband, the hubs, as I liked to call him. We’d been doing this since our sons, our little soccer stars, started playing, a ritual of release and reconnection after a long week.

As I pulled up beside him in his truck, the familiar scent of his cologne – sandalwood and something subtly musky – filled the air. His smile, genuine and full of adoration, sent a shiver down my spine. "Hello beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. He took my hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through my veins, and we walked towards the bleachers where our sons were engrossed in the game.

"I'm looking forward to our night," I whispered, letting my gaze linger on his lips. He returned my stare, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and replied, "Me too, my darling, it’s why I love Fridays." It was true; after the games, we’d whisk our boys away to their friends' houses, a whirlwind of youthful energy and sibling rivalry, before returning home for a night of intense passion. Tonight's game had been a victory, a hard-fought win that left us both breathless and exhilarated. Our twins, buzzing with excitement, had begged to visit their friend, Liam, and we'd obliged, showering them with kisses and promises of safety before saying our goodbyes.

As we made our way back to the house, my legs began to tingle, a delicious anticipation building within me. I knew exactly what was coming, or so I thought. Then, a horrifying realization struck me – he wasn’t heading home. He was driving.

“What are you doing?” I questioned, a knot of confusion tightening in my stomach.

He simply smiled, a knowing expression playing on his lips. “We aren’t going home tonight, honey; we’re going to the next town about an hour away.” My mind raced, trying to comprehend his sudden change of plans. It was utterly bizarre, completely out of character. Still, I didn’t voice my doubts, just allowed him to lead me away from the comfort of our familiar surroundings.

We arrived at a luxurious hotel, its opulent facade hinting at the indulgence to come. He effortlessly charmed the check-in clerk, securing us a room with a stunning view. Reservations? Seriously? The thought of this level of planning made me weak with anticipation.

As we stepped into the room, the scent of expensive perfume mingled with the subtle aroma of leather and something else, something primal and undeniably enticing. I turned to him, my heart pounding in my chest, and asked, “Why the room?”

He leaned in close, his voice a husky whisper, "The things I'm going to do to you are messy." The words hung in the air, laced with a promise of unrestrained pleasure.

He grabbed me, pulling me against the wall with surprising strength. He took my top off, the cool night air raising goosebumps on my skin, and then unclasped my bra, revealing the delicate curve of my breasts. He began kissing them with fervent passion, his lips tracing every inch of my skin. He shoved me against the wall, a possessive grip tightening around my waist, and demanded that I take off my pants and remain standing. There was no room for argument, no hesitation. I obeyed, succumbing to his dominance with a shiver of both fear and excitement. He swiftly removed my panties, and then began to pleasure me with insistent, skillful fingers. He squeezed my butt, a playful yet intense sensation that made my breath catch in my throat, and spun me around, the world tilting on its axis.

Still clinging to the wall, he rose to his feet and pressed his body against mine, a solid, unwavering force. He whispered in my ear, "You're mine tonight." It was a declaration of ownership, a tangible expression of his desire.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me down onto the bed, the soft plushness of the mattress a stark contrast to the heat building within me. He got on top of me and slid his cock inside me, a powerful thrust that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through my body. His hard cock, thick and demanding, penetrated me with ease. I could feel the sweat on his back as he thrust harder, each movement amplifying the intensity of my sensations. My tits bounced against his chest, a thrilling rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of my heart.

Suddenly, he lifted me in his lap while still inside me, a display of dominance that both thrilled and terrified me. He carried me over to the bathroom where he sat me on the counter, my back pressed against the cool, smooth surface of the mirror. He resumed his assault, his thrusts becoming even more forceful and insistent. As I strained against the pressure, my vision blurred, and I could feel the fog from his breath condensing on the mirror, creating a hazy reflection of our intertwined bodies. He pulled out and helped me down so he could spin me around to see myself in the mirror. Bent over the counter, he slid back in, his thrusts relentless and demanding. This time, he took me from behind, my body contorting in pleasure as he forced me deeper. In an instant, I experienced the most exquisite orgasm I had ever known, a wave of pure, unadulterated bliss that left me breathless and weak.

As soon as I finished, I rested my head on my hands on the counter top, savoring the lingering sensations. Then, I felt something warm running down my leg, a slow, deliberate pleasure that intensified my arousal.

My husband rested his head on my back and said, "Sorry, I couldn’t hold it anymore." The words were laced with a hint of regret, a confession of his own intense desire. We fell onto the bed, clinging to each other, our bodies intertwined in a tangled mess of limbs and longing. A text from our son popped up on my phone: "Don't forget to pick us up tomorrow after lunch!" The reminder of our responsibilities, of the life we had built outside of this decadent escape, suddenly felt jarring. But we had to go back, to return to the roles of parents, which I wouldn’t trade for anything. Yet, the memory of this night, this wild, uninhibited indulgence, lingered in my mind, a delicious secret that we would carry with us. It was nice, though, to have a hot, sexy moment outside the bedroom of our home. I am blessed with a wonderful, thoughtful husband, and moments like these reminded me of just how lucky I was.

As we lay entangled in the sheets, I couldn't help but smile. The day had been filled with the mundane routines of life, but this single, stolen night had shattered the monotony, leaving behind a residue of desire and a longing for more. It was a reminder that even within the confines of our everyday lives, there was always room for passion, for pleasure, for the intoxicating thrill of breaking free from the ordinary.

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Friday Night Fixation

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