Bare Skin, Rough Touch (L/A)

The rain hammered against the windows of my studio apartment, mirroring the frantic thrumming in my veins. It had been a long, stressful day, filled with deadlines and the constant pressure of creative demands. But as I stepped through the door, the relentless storm outside faded into the background as I was greeted by the sight of my wife, Seraphina, lounging on the sofa, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She was scantily dressed, only a silk scarf loosely draped around her shoulders, and her golden brown hair, usually meticulously styled, was a tangled mess, clearly the result of a much-needed, impromptu shower. The scent of expensive perfume mingled with the faint aroma of damp wool – she’d just returned from a shopping trip, and judging by the way she was positioned, she’d been indulging in a bit of retail therapy.

“What, did you go like that?” I asked, my voice a low rumble of surprise and intrigue. The casualness of her response, coupled with her provocative stance, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Anything wrong with it?” she retorted, her voice laced with playful defiance. It wasn’t an apology, not really, but it was an invitation. An invitation to explore the boundaries of our desires, the unspoken tensions that simmered beneath the surface of our relationship.

“Nothing really,” I admitted, taking a slow, deliberate step closer. “But do you realize you haven’t shaved in weeks and your golden brown hair is sticking out? It’s a little… rustic.”

A shrug, a careless dismissal, and then the words that shattered the comfortable rhythm of our evening: “Maybe someone got a flash. And now, if you please, fuck me as you wish!”

The challenge hung in the air, thick and heavy with anticipation. I didn't hesitate. My instincts took over, a primal urge to respond to her bold request. With swift, confident movements, I grabbed her, pulling her against the wall. Her hand instinctively reached up to hold my shoulders, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through my body. “As you wish,” she whispered, her voice a low, seductive murmur. Dropping my pants, I slowly inserted my cock into her receptive pussy, which was already glistening with anticipation. The initial friction was exquisite, a fiery dance of pleasure and desire.

Holding her hands against the wall, she widened her legs, creating a deeper cavity for me to explore. I found myself riding the crest of the wave, lost in the intoxicating sensation of her wetness, the rhythm of her breathing, the heat radiating from her body. Fifteen minutes melted away in a blur of intense pleasure, each thrust deeper and more urgent than the last.

Then, as I reached the peak of the moment, she whispered, “Fuck my ass.” There was no hesitation, no concern for hygiene, just a raw, unadulterated craving. Without a condom, I turned her around, and her immediate reaction confirmed her intentions: she’d already lubricated herself, preparing for a deeper, more intense experience. I pushed my cock further in, feeling her entire body tense with anticipation, her muscles contracting with every thrust. The words “This is what I want,” escaped her lips, a declaration of her pleasure, a surrender to the moment.

“MORE, DEEPER!!” she urged, her voice laced with urgency. She was completely lost in the sensation, her body writhing with a desperate need for more. I could hear her tremor, a subtle vibration that ran through her entire being. As I continued to penetrate her, my semen flowed freely, a torrent of hot, viscous fluid that flooded her pussy. The room filled with the sounds of our mutual ecstasy – moans, gasps, and the rhythmic pounding of our bodies against the wall. After what felt like an eternity, but was likely closer to ten minutes, she finally let out a strangled cry, “I’m cumming! Fill me up!” Her favorite words, spoken with a desperate plea.

I ramped up my efforts, pushing myself to the limit, feeling her body shake with each thrust. The heat intensified, the sweat pouring down our bodies, blurring the edges of our reality. My semen erupted in a hot, powerful stream, covering her in a glistening layer of pleasure. She squatted down, letting the rest of her arousal flow freely onto the floor, a testament to her complete surrender. Thinking she’d had her fill, I pulled up my pants, but she simply lowered her dress, allowing the remaining semen to drip down her legs, clinging to her skin like a viscous, intoxicating elixir. It didn’t bother her at all; she always relished in the aftermath, savoring the lingering sensations of pleasure. The thought of her licking her fingers and hands clean was an added layer of arousal, an invitation to further exploration.

An hour passed in a haze of shared intimacy, punctuated by bites of leftover pizza and stolen kisses. As we ate, I felt her hand start to fondle my penis, her touch both gentle and insistent. By this point, I was hard as a rock, completely consumed by the anticipation of what was to come. She began to hand job me, her movements becoming more and more frenzied, her touch igniting a fire within me.

Finally, she moved under the table, shaking my cock with a desperate, almost violent intensity. The rhythm was erratic, unpredictable, pushing me beyond my limits. Between each thrust, she gave me a sexy suck and lick, her tongue tracing the contours of my shaft, sending shivers down my spine. Then, as she vigorously moved my shaft, her mouth suddenly sprang wide open, a primal scream building within her. It was clear this was going to be something different, a crescendo of pleasure unlike anything we’d experienced before.

It was then that I exploded wildly over her face, in her mouth, on her closed eyes, simultaneously wetting her hair. My penis slid down a little before it left a thick wad on her lips and chin. The sensation was overwhelming, a torrent of raw, unadulterated pleasure that threatened to consume me. She sucked the last bits out of my now flaccid cock, her movements slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of my release.

As she emerged from under the table, she was covered in sweat and pleasure, her body trembling with exhaustion. But a triumphant smile played on her lips. “You made me feel totally slutty and thank you,” she said, her voice husky with pleasure. “I enjoyed every bit of it.” The words hung in the air, a testament to our shared experience, a reminder of the boundless depths of our desires. The rain outside continued to fall, but inside our apartment, the storm had subsided, replaced by the lingering warmth of our bodies and the intoxicating scent of pleasure. It was a perfect ending to a perfect night, a night of unbridled lust, raw desire, and explicit connection.

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