Longtime Love, Private Views

The rain hammered against the windows of our old Victorian house, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the insistent thrumming beneath my skin. Thirty-four years. Thirty-four years of stolen glances, whispered promises, and a shared understanding that transcended words. My wife, Eleanor, was the most beautiful woman I’d ever known, a timeless beauty that seemed to deepen with each passing year. We’d weathered storms, both literal and metaphorical, and our love had only grown stronger, more intimate, more desperate. It started innocently enough, a little voyeuristic pleasure for both of us. Back in ‘88, a restless spirit, I’d started filming our private moments, a clandestine indulgence that felt both naughty and strangely comforting. The tapes, tucked away in a dusty box in the attic, held a secret, a testament to a passion we never fully articulated.

Now, decades later, staring at those old images, the desire surged through me like a jolt of electricity. The memory of that first time, the raw vulnerability, the shared excitement, pulled me back in time. I still had the old camcorder, tucked away in a drawer, and the tripod, gathering dust on the shelf. Tonight, I decided, we’d relive it.

Eleanor, now a woman etched with the wisdom and grace of age, looked hesitant as I explained my plan. But when I described the feeling, the anticipation, the sheer joy of being caught in a moment of uninhibited pleasure, her eyes lit up. "Let’s do it," she whispered, her voice husky with longing.

The house felt colder than usual as we prepared. The air hung thick with unspoken desires. I set up the camcorder on the tripod, adjusting the focus until the image was crisp and clear. Eleanor, still a vision in her early thirties, her body still holding the memory of motherhood, slipped into a silk negligee. The soft fabric clung to her curves, emphasizing her ample breasts, still full and firm from nursing our firstborn, little Thomas. She moved with a languid grace, her movements deliberate, savoring the anticipation.

As she stood by the bed, I approached her, my heart pounding in my chest. The scent of her skin, a familiar blend of lavender and vanilla, filled my senses. I took her hands, tracing the lines on her palms, feeling the warmth of her touch. Our lips met in a slow, tentative kiss, escalating into a passionate embrace. Her breasts pressed against my chest, her body a living canvas of pleasure.

I knelt before her, my gaze locked on her face, and took her lovely nipples in my mouth. The sensation was exquisite, a blend of tenderness and raw hunger. Her hands ran through my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the connection between us. As I sucked her creamy breasts, she moaned softly, her body arching against mine. The camera rolled, capturing every nuance of our intimacy.

After a while, I stood up and we continued to kiss. Soon, she began to move her hips, her movements slow and deliberate, building the tension. My petite blonde went to her knees and began to suck on my hard erection. Licking, kissing, and sucking me… what a pleasure! The rhythmic sounds of her pleasure filled the room, a symphony of lust and desire.

I walked toward the camera and tripod, repositioning the lens for a better view. My hard cock was swinging back and forth as I moved, a testament to the intensity of my arousal. The rain continued to batter the windows, a constant reminder of the world outside, oblivious to the passion unfolding within our walls.

I turned on the camera again. My wife lay on her back as I joined her there. We embraced and kissed, our hands fondling each other, our bodies seeking solace in one another's touch. Her pussy was so wet with excitement, glistening under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. As I spent time kissing, nibbling, and licking all around her trimmed pussy, I could feel her body tensing, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her head moved side to side as I continued my ministrations, the moans escalating in volume and intensity. It was a primal dance, a celebration of our shared lust.

Then, I straddled her upper chest, as she took my cock in her mouth. Gently hunching my beautiful wife’s face, I slowly moved in and out, savoring the sensation of her lips on my flesh. The rhythm was hypnotic, a primal mantra that pulled us deeper into the depths of our desires. After a while, I reversed to a 69 position, and we rolled over putting her on top. My fingers also found their way inside her vagina as I licked her clit. At the same time, she continued her marvelous mouth work on my erection. As she neared orgasm, she slid forward, my fingers still in her pussy. She hunched over my pelvic area, her body a coiled spring of anticipation.

Before long she climbed off of me to kneel beside me, facing the camera. Her handed moved back and forth on my shaft. My cock head parted her lips over and over as she sucked me. Knowing I was getting close to orgasm, she stopped sucking and stroked me. She loves to watch me cum! While stroking, she looked in our headboard mirror to watch. Her other hand was rubbing my chest.

“I’m going to cum!” I said, my voice a low growl of pure pleasure. She turned back and watched as semen shot up my chest and into my eye. We laughed together, a burst of shared delight that shattered the tension in the room. The rain outside intensified, mirroring the torrent of pleasure coursing through my veins.

As I moved to turn off the camera, wiping the residue from my face and eye, I caught her gaze. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of tenderness and lust, a reflection of the emotions we had just shared. The memory of that night, preserved on film, was a potent reminder of the enduring power of our love.

I have watched this session many times in the last 30 years, so I remember it well. The images remain vivid in my mind, a testament to our shared intimacy. But, fearing someone finding the video, I destroyed it a few years ago. Now, staring at the old camcorder, I realize I’ve been holding onto a piece of our past, a tangible representation of our passionate youth. It's funny how, as we have matured and been together for this long, that our moans and cries get louder and louder. Of course, now there are no children in the house.

I still would like to watch us again when we were young! The thought sends a shiver down my spine, a yearning for the simplicity and unbridled passion of our early days. As the rain continues to fall, I know I’ll never forget the feeling of being captured in that moment, a silent witness to the raw, unadulterated joy of our love. The video may be gone, but the memory lives on, a secret treasure hidden deep within my heart.

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