Sweet Surrender After The Storm

Whew! After a wild Valentine’s night, and morning after, my wife had “forced” me to call in sick to avoid yet another double shift. It wasn’t exactly a lie … After weeks of double shifts, and almost no sleep the night before, I was near exhaustion. But after the ecstasy of the past few hours, I decided to let my wife sleep in when the second alarm sounded. Somebody had to get the children off to school and today it would be me. Luckily, they were used to the morning routine, which meant I didn’t have to use a whole lot of brain power. They had their breakfast, reminded me to give them lunch money, and waited for the bus. When the last one was gone, I suddenly realized I was starving! I went to the bedroom to offer my wife some breakfast also, but she was sound asleep. Rather than wake her, I went back downstairs to the kitchen, where I had some coffee and a bagel.

However, even coffee wasn’t enough to overcome my exhaustion. I settled into the Lazy Boy to catch the morning news, and I was out like a light!

I’m not sure how long I slept, or what woke me up. The next thing I remember is my wife calling me from the top of the stairs.

“Honey? Would you be a prince and serve me breakfast?” She giggled.

“Sure,” I answered groggily, “coffee and bagel OK?”

“That would be faaabulous”, she drawled. She was in a giddy mood. “With some of that butter spread.”

“OK”

“and Honey?”

“Yes?”

“Could you bring it out to the sun room?”

“Anything for you, m’love.” Her silly mood was contagious. I went into the kitchen to gather the simple breakfast. She must have slipped down the stairs, through the den and out to the sun room unnoticed. The next time I heard her voice, it came from the sun room.

“Dear, there is one more thing”

“Yes?” I replied.

She responded in a mock scornful voice “That old bathrobe is entirely unsuitable for serving food. I have left your waiter’s uniform in the den on the coffee table. Please change before serving me.”

“Yes, dear” I responded.

Coffee poured, bagel heated and sliced, tub of butter, butter knife, all on a serving tray. Now I had to wear a uniform?

I went into the den and looked on the coffee table. All that was there was a small rolled up piece of cloth tied with a red ribbon, and a note that said “Happy Valentine’s Day” I untied the ribbon. I laughed out loud when I unrolled the package and learned that my “uniform” was nothing more than a pair of silk boxer shorts, red with little white hearts all over! Apparently my wife had forgotten to give them to me the night before.

Since nobody else was home, I stripped right there and put on my “uniform.”

When I delivered breakfast to the sun room, I saw that my wife had lowered all the bamboo curtains, so that the room was filled with soft light, and we had complete privacy. She was seated in one of the lounge chairs, smiling and reading a magazine. She was wearing only a very thin, extremely sheer white gown — the kind that is usually worn over a sexy nightie. But all she had on was the gown. It was tied at the waist. It covered her breasts, although it hid nothing. She pulled it over her legs, but again, it was so see-through that nothing was hidden.

Upon seeing me enter, she barely glanced at me, motioned toward a table beside her chair and said coolly, “Leave it there.”

I placed the tray with the bagel, butter and coffee on the table, and leaned in to kiss her. She pulled away, glared at me icily and said, “It seems the help around here is getting MUCH too familiar!”

Chastised, I straightened up and stood by the chair, waiting. Playing her role, flawlessly, my wife sipped her coffee, spread a little butter on her bagel and took a bite, all without ever looking up from her reading. It was as if I weren’t even there. The only time she acknowledged my presence was when her coffee cup was almost empty. Without looking at me she raised the cup slightly, cleared her throat “uh-hmm” and returned the cup to the tray. Taking the hint, I scurried back to the kitchen, retrieved the coffee pot and refilled her cup.

This went on for several minutes, as I stood servilely beside her chair. Once, as she sipped coffee with her right hand, she reached over, still not looking at me, and slowly rubbed the front of the silk boxers. She rubbed just a second or two, put the coffee down, and went back to her bagel.

Each time she finished a bite of bagel, she would take a sip of coffee and rub my crotch. The effect on me was immediate, as a large tent grew in my boxers. But each time, she rubbed only a few seconds, then spread butter on her bagel and took a bite. After several of these teases, she changed the routine slightly; now instead of rubbing the front of the shorts, she slid her hand up my leg, inside the boxers and slowly stroked my now-hard penis. After a couple of these, my erection was pounding and pre-cum was forming.

Finally, she ate the last bite of bagel, licking her lips sensually as she did. I knew my wait would soon be over. She took her coffee cup, had a sip and put it back on the table. Then, to my surprise, she picked up the butter and knife again. This time, she spread butter on her left hand, slid it up my leg and started rubbing my beautiful round butt. I scooped up another dollop of the spread and began rubbing her beautiful round butt, down her belly, and between her legs. As I buttered her front, she grabbed my manhood and stroked it hard and fast. Her nipples were still hard and her slit wet. I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her to face me, so she was facing the chair and I was behind her. I pushed her forward so she bent over, leaning on the arms of the chair, and her head was pressed against the back cushion. She gasped with pleasure when my balls slapped against her. I held tight to her hips and pulled out and slammed into her over and over again. Butter gleamed on her butt and bouncing breasts as I watched my hard-on slide in and out repeatedly. When I exploded into her, it was with so much force her whole body quivered and shook. I took a few more strokes as she used her vaginal muscles to milk every drop from me.

However, I knew that she had not yet “finished.” I pulled out and turned her to face me, then pushed down on her shoulders so that she was once again sitting in her chair. I lifted and spread her legs so they were resting on the arms of the chair. Her nipples were still hard and her breathing was heavy. Her neat bush glistened with her juices, my cream, and melted butter. She spoke first.

“Did you really enjoy it last night? But now it’s my turn.”

“Of course. It was an incredible turn on” I smiled.

Before I could finish the sentence, her hand slid over her breasts, across her belly and between her legs. She slipped a finger in her other hole and in a second she exploded, bucking her hips, pushing my face into her and moaning louder than I had heard her in a long time. The rest of the day we just enjoyed each other’s company, resting up from the sleepless night. Later she told me that she had been researching more ways so please each other and had learned that when I come in her and then eat her, it is called “eating a cream pie.” She said when I did that it showed my devotion to her, and that made her feel extremely loved. She also said she wants a real pearl necklace soon!

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