Oslo's Electric Touch

The rain in Oslo hammered against the windows of the Grand Hotel, a relentless, insistent drumming that mirrored the building tension in my own body. It was early 1987, and the remnants of our third wedding anniversary still clung to the air like expensive perfume. We’d celebrated in Stockholm, a whirlwind of Swedish meatballs, aquavit, and a performance that had left me buzzing with adrenaline and a desperate need for connection. Now, back in this opulent hotel room overlooking the fjord, the desire felt even more primal, more urgent.

My husband, Daniel, was a master of anticipation. He knew the rhythm of my arousal, the delicate dance between pleasure and restraint. As I lay naked on the plush king-sized bed, the cool silk against my skin, I turned to face the rain-streaked window, letting the grey light illuminate the curve of my hips. The scent of his imported absorbent oil, a rich, nutty fragrance, filled the air as he moved towards me, a slow, deliberate advance. He had meticulously prepared, applying the oil to his hands, massaging it into my skin with a reverence that bordered on worship.

His touch was initially gentle, a slow, deliberate exploration of my body. First, he worked his hands over my arms, tracing the lines of muscle and bone, sending shivers down my spine. Then, he moved to my neck and shoulders, kneading the knots of tension that had accumulated throughout the day's intense performance. Each stroke was slow, deliberate, designed to build the heat, to heighten the anticipation. As he worked his way down my back, my breath quickened, my heart pounded in my chest. The rhythmic pressure, the sensual warmth of his hands, was a potent invitation, a siren song that pulled me deeper into the throes of desire.

He found a pressure point, a sensitive spot just below my shoulder blades, and pressed down with a little more force. Suddenly, a wave of heat erupted through me, a volcanic eruption of sensation that stole my breath away. My muscles tensed, my body convulsed, and a silent cry escaped my lips. "Oh… ohh… ohh," I moaned, clinging to the cool cotton sheets, my entire body trembling with the force of the pleasure. Daniel didn’t stop. He continued to massage the spot, prolonging the moment, ensuring that I fully experienced the apex of my arousal. The rhythm of his touch was hypnotic, drawing me further into a world of pure sensation.

As the initial surge subsided, I relaxed, letting go of the tension, allowing the pleasure to wash over me. Daniel gently stroked my back, his touch tender and loving, a soothing balm after the intensity of my orgasm. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, a soft, lingering pressure that sent another shiver through my body.

I rolled over, my body still humming with the afterglow of pleasure, and he followed suit, his eyes dark with desire. He kissed my right breast, his lips tracing the delicate curves, then moved on to caress the other, his touch both gentle and insistent. I instinctively reached out, placing my hand on his, a silent plea for more. He responded by climbing onto me, his weight heavy and comforting, his body a perfect fit against mine.

“Oh…” he moaned, his voice thick with pleasure, as he thrust deep into my very wet, orgasm-heated vagina. The sensation was exquisite, a symphony of pleasure that made me gasp. He played around inside of me, feeling the softness and wetness, drawing out every last drop of sensation. I watched his body move, his muscles tensing and releasing, his breathing quickening with each thrust. He gently grazed my breast while kissing me, his kisses lingering over my nipples, teasing and tantalizing. Then, he started kissing my breast multiple times, lightly running his finger tips over my nipple before returning to his beloved kisses on my neck and lips again.

He nuzzled me between kisses, drawing me closer, while I caressed his manly, sexy body, enjoying the heat of his skin and the power of his muscles. The anticipation built, the desire intensified, until finally, I came again, my legs and hips tightening, my hips jerking in response to his movements. I cried out, clutching him tightly, desperate to maintain the connection, to prolong the pleasure.

This orgasm was even stronger than the last, a torrent of sensation that left me breathless and weak. I could feel an extra lady liquid moistening my husband’s penis, further enhancing the pleasure. When I finally subsided, I watched his face, his eyes closed in ecstasy, as he came. I listened to his sexy moans, feeling the vibrations of his thrusts deep within my own body.

After he had finished, he kissed my cheek, cupping my face in his hands before rolling off of me and cuddling with me, side by side. The rain continued to fall outside, but inside the room, in the warmth of our bodies, there was no trace of the cold, grey world outside. We lay there for a long time, lost in each other's arms, savoring the aftermath of our passion, the shared experience a testament to our enduring love. The scent of the absorbent oil mingled with the salty air from the fjord, creating a unique and intoxicating fragrance that would forever be associated with this night, this moment, this undeniable connection between us. The memory of the rain, the music, the heat, and the overwhelming pleasure would linger long after we had risen to face the world again.

Did you like this story? Oslo's Electric Touch look, but like these, here Mother sex stories.