Midnight Surge: A Heated Encounter

The rain hammered against the windows of the sprawling suburban house, mirroring the frantic drumming of my own pulse. Jim had been gone for four grueling days, a business trip that had stretched on far too long, leaving me in a state of simmering desperation. He’d returned looking utterly drained, a stark contrast to the vibrant man I knew, and a potent reminder of the aching void he’d left behind. The air hung thick with unspoken desires, a silent plea for connection, for release.

“So sorry, hot stuff,” he mumbled, collapsing onto the plush sofa, the weariness evident in his slumped posture. “This was the most boring business trip ever, and I couldn’t even nap on the plane,” he added, his voice laced with a weary resignation. “I’m beat.”

I moved to his side, offering a generous pour of his favorite scotch and soda. It wouldn’t erase the day’s disappointment, but it was a start. As he took a long, slow sip, I stretched out beside him, pulling my iPad closer, a mischievous glint in my eyes. MarriageHeat stories. The very thought sent a shiver of anticipation through me, a recognition of the potent fantasies I was about to unleash. My own body felt taut and responsive, a coiled spring ready to unleash its pent-up energy. I’d spent the last few hours meticulously preparing for this moment, letting the heat build, the anticipation rising like a fever.

“Wanna tell me about it?” I asked, leaning closer, my voice a silken invitation. My legs parted slightly, revealing the tantalizing curve of my ample breasts, already swelling with the anticipation of the night ahead. My cream-soaked skin gleamed under the soft glow of the living room lights, a siren’s call to the weary traveler before me.

“Nah, I’m talked out. Whatcha got there, hot stuff?” Jim replied, his eyes glazed over, a subtle tremor running through his hand as he clutched his glass. The unmistakable sign of a building hard-on. Bingo. My green light.

“Well, I was just looking through some pretty hot stuff in the MarriageHeat stories section, and it’s got me in a mood. Interested?” I asked, letting my gaze linger on his arousal, feeding the flames of his desire. The speed with which he took another swig of his drink only confirmed my suspicions.

He took a big hit of his scotch and soda, the alcohol doing little to quell the inferno raging within him. “Sure, as long as I can get a show with the story,” he said with an evil grin, the hunger in his eyes palpable.

Bingo, indeed. With a swift, decisive movement, I parted my legs further, revealing the full extent of my generous proportions. My silver-dollar-sized areolas, already swollen with anticipation, glistened under the light, their delicate curves hinting at the pleasures to come. My nipples, rapidly growing larger and harder, pulsed with the heat of my arousal. It was time.

I began reading aloud from a particularly scandalous story, tracing the outline of my areolas with my fingertips, letting the words ignite the flames of desire within him. As I reached the third paragraph, I glanced up, savoring the moment, observing his reaction. His eyes were closed, a blissful expression on his face, his right hand clenched tightly around his hard-on, straining to break free from his pleated pants. The sight was intoxicating.

“So hot!” I thought, continuing my slow, deliberate pace, my voice a low, seductive murmur. I continued pinching and rolling between my fingers, enjoying the exquisite sensation of his growing arousal. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a delicious torture that only intensified my pleasure.

A sudden movement drew my attention. Jim was slowly, deliberately, reaching for his pants, his movements deliberate and purposeful. As he peeled them down, exposing his vulnerable flesh, a wave of anticipation washed over me. Ah, that’s more like it. I grinned like a schoolgirl, a primal surge of excitement coursing through my veins.

When he had his meat firmly in hand, he uttered, “I want to taste your incredible, creamy pussy, right now. Please take a seat.” He slid down the sofa, his eyes locked on mine, his gaze filled with an almost desperate longing.

The game had changed. Credit to MarriageHeat letters, I thought, a genuine surge of gratitude welling up within me. He began to grind his pelvis against my thighs, the friction building rapidly, a prelude to the pleasure that awaited.

“You don’t need to ask me twice,” I said, leaping up off the end of the couch, giving him a quick, passionate kiss to the head of his erect member, and positioning my aching cunt directly over his mouth. He began to say something, but I muffled his words with the full force of my cowgirl bucking, amplifying the sensation, driving him further into ecstasy.

“Ah, that’s right, you fucking stud, chow down on your favorite meal. Yes! Yes. Oh, fuck yes,” I screamed, releasing a torrent of pent-up pleasure. I gave one last, firm twist to my nipples and squirted my juices into his hungry mouth, savoring the taste of his desire. Knowing I was about to experience an incredible, explosive orgasm, I pulled back slightly, lowered my head, and watched as my release erupted, a glorious display of feminine power. The sight was utterly mesmerizing. My squirt, a glistening stream of warm, salty fluid, hung suspended in the air, a testament to the intensity of my pleasure.

After recovering from the tremors of my delicious orgasm, I moved right into my welcome home deep throat mode. I knew he was ready to cum big time, his body already trembling with anticipation. I waited, savoring the moment, letting the tension build, feeding the flames of his desire.

“Swallow every drop, slut!” he heard as he gripped the back of my head and emptied his load in four major spurts. The first shot went so deep I could swear it tickled my lungs! His cock swelled until it almost blocked my entire airway, a testament to the sheer volume of his release. His very loud growling sent a strong message of just how much he loved his favorite cocksucker. It was an experience beyond compare, a symphony of pleasure and release.

We collapsed onto the sofa, clinging to each other in a tangle of limbs and satisfied sighs. He then asked what hottie wrote the MH letter I read to him to start our passion fires burning.

“I’ll put it to you this way, Jimmy: you just fucked an author. Look for ‘Just in the Nip of Time’ under the stories heading!” I said, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

Thanks again, MH! I thought, as we drifted off to sleep, exhausted but utterly content, the rain continuing its relentless assault on the windows, a fitting soundtrack to our night of passionate abandon.

Did you like this story? Midnight Surge: A Heated Encounter look, but like these, here Sex stories.