Blue Thongs & Golden Shame

The drawer of memories always held a strange allure, a silent invitation to revisit moments best forgotten, yet undeniably potent. Tonight, as I opened it, the first glimpse of blue immediately pulled me back. It was a classic thong, a shade of electric azure that clung to Bella’s curves like a second skin. The memory was visceral: kneeling on the cold, unforgiving metal of our bench press, her weight pressing into me, the scent of iron and sweat mingling with the primal heat of anticipation. She’d been all fours, a goddess sculpted from muscle and desire, her eyes glazed over with a feverish pleasure as I railed from behind. The thong, a small act of defiance against the gym’s rigid rules, had become a focal point for her ecstasy, each pull a silent scream of satisfaction.

“Not that one,” I said, my voice low and gravelly, savoring the anticipation. “Pick another.”

The next contender was a gold t-bar, gleaming under the dim light of the drawer. The metal caught the light, reflecting a distorted image of Bella’s ass, a perfect curve that had haunted my dreams for years. It was a picture I’d taken before a particularly intense session, a candid shot captured as she pulled down her g-string, revealing the sheer perfection of her physique. We’d been late for our friends birthday party, the urgency of the moment driving us to abandon all pretense. The drive home had been filled with a frantic energy, culminating in a sweaty, breathless encounter in our bedroom. She’d ridden me reverse cowgirl, her weight digging into my core, until the release came, a torrent of cum pouring down my throat, leaving me weak and breathless. The gold t-bar, a silent witness to that primal joy, felt strangely inappropriate.

Next, a lace thong in lime green caught my eye. It was a garment of past sins, a reminder of a camping trip we’d taken a few years prior. The air had been thick with humidity, the scent of pine needles and damp earth clinging to our skin. We’d been both horny, the confines of our camper amplifying our desires, and when our kids had shut the door on us, trapping us inside, we'd embraced the chaos. We’d met for a forbidden session in the shower house, the scent of chlorine mingling with the musk of arousal. The bright green thong, a beacon of transgression, had been ripped from her body in a moment of abandon, leaving her vulnerable and exposed as I plunged my cock deep into her. The memory was both shameful and exhilarating, a potent cocktail of guilt and pleasure.

I waved the zebra print thong, a reckless abandon in my movements, but Bella shook her head, her eyes holding a playful glint. Really? Not these, even with the car ride, I’m-so-horny-please-pull-over-and-take-me-now memory? The anticipation built, a delicious tension between us.

Each pair held a story, a fragment of our shared history, each thread pulling me further into the depths of our desires. As I reached for another one, she instructed me to close my eyes instead.

I obliged, the darkness a welcome respite from the visual assault of the drawer. When I opened my eyes, Bella stood before me, a vision in a custom order thong of my favorite sports team. The fabric, a vibrant crimson and black, clung to her hips, accentuating her curves. "Time to make a new memory before it joins the drawer," she stated, her voice husky with desire.

We joined together, a slow, deliberate dance of anticipation. As things heated up, my mouth made its way down, tracing the curve of her neck, exploring the delicate skin beneath her chin. My tongue found her small, perky tits and made circles, a playful teasing that sent shivers down my spine. My hand wandered to her new thong, rubbing my lips into the wet fabric, creating a damp spot as I sucked on her breasts. The scent of arousal filled the air, thick and intoxicating.

Bella was enjoying this, her body arching slightly as she relaxed into my touch. I pushed the sexy fabric aside to reach her pussy, feeling the anticipation build with each passing moment. Moans began, soft at first, then growing in intensity as I found her clit and circled it with my finger. The pressure was exquisite, a slow burn that promised a world of pleasure.

I flipped her onto her belly, lifting her ass in the air. I rubbed her back with one hand as I inserted a finger into her with the other, warming her up until she gasped for breath. Adding a second finger made her wriggle against me, her body trembling with excitement.

My dick was so hard, coiled tight within me, desperate to escape and deliver its payload. But I wasn't done showing my appreciation just yet.

Reluctantly, I removed my favorite thong to expose her shaved pussy. With her still ass-up and resting on her forearms, I grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them as I went down on her from behind. Bella squealed, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room. My tongue pushed as deep as possible, exploring every inch of her sensitive flesh. She was getting so wet, and I could hardly wait to get my dick soaked.

Bella then instructed me to put my cock in her mouth. As I undressed, savoring the view of her glistening pussy, I knew what was to come. I slid under her, taking advantage of her vulnerability. It was a classic sixty-nine, a slow, deliberate dance of pleasure that built anticipation with every movement. I enjoyed every second, feeling the heat of her body against mine, the scent of arousal intoxicating.

She deep throated right away in appreciation, her body convulsing with pleasure. With a "holy fuck," Bella cummed, a torrent of semen erupting from her in a joyous explosion.

As she found her breath, I slipped in behind and grabbed her hips, preparing to plant my seed. I knew it wouldn't take long. She moaned heavily as I found my rhythm, my hands gripping her shoulders, pushing her deeper into my embrace. Grabbing her thighs, I pulled her closer, my body arching in unison with hers. Adding a second hand to her hips, I intensified the pleasure, my movements becoming more frenzied. I gave it to her hard, my balls slapping against her mound as I worked my way down, my arousal reaching fever pitch. The heat intensified, a burning sensation that demanded release. Grabbing her shoulders, I pushed deep as I found my release and shot my load inside my horny wife.

We collapsed together, breathless and exhausted, the scent of arousal hanging heavy in the air. As she caught her breath, she commented, “I take it you like my new addition to the drawer.” Her eyes held a mischievous glint, a silent challenge that only fueled my desire. The drawer of memories, once a repository of forgotten moments, now held a new one, a testament to our shared passion and a promise of future delights. The blue thong, the gold t-bar, the lime green lace, the zebra print - each object had served its purpose, contributing to the tapestry of our love. Now, this crimson and black thong, a symbol of our current pleasure, would join the collection, ready to evoke another wave of desire, another journey into the depths of our shared sensuality.

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