Behind the Veil: A Month of Bliss

The digital clock glowed a sickly green, mocking my solitude. A month abroad, a world away from the warmth and intimacy I craved, and all I had were memories, potent and insistent, of my wife, Sarah. Just thinking about her, the scent of her lavender soap clinging to her skin, sent shivers down my spine. I closed my eyes, summoning the image of her, a vision of sun-kissed skin, a generous curve to her hips, and a playful glint in her eyes. It was these details, these sensual memories, that fueled my longing for our shared moments of passion.

The thought of our bedroom, a sanctuary of soft linens and candlelight, brought a smile to my lips. It wasn’t just the physical pleasure that made those evenings so special; it was the connection, the unspoken understanding that passed between us. The jazz music, always soft and soulful, seemed to amplify the anticipation, each note a subtle invitation to surrender. As we lay next to each other, lost in the moment, our bodies intertwined, we’d share kisses and caresses, exploring each other’s vulnerabilities with a playful abandon. The gentle rocking of the ceiling fan, the warmth of her body against mine, it all contributed to an atmosphere of blissful intimacy.

I found myself drawn to the familiar ritual of kneeling by the bed, my gaze fixed on her rear, hiked high in the air as she watched a movie. It was in this position, vulnerable and exposed, that I felt most at ease, most able to indulge my desires. Her tanned skin, smooth and taut, seemed to call out to me, and as I reached out to caress her, a wave of heat washed over me. I began with gentle licks, tracing the contours of her clitoris, a slow, deliberate dance of anticipation. Then, my fingers would probe deeper, seeking the exact point where pleasure resided, feeling the subtle tremors that rippled through her body. I'd press my tongue against her opening, pulling back gently with my teeth, just enough to tease and tantalize. Her moans, soft at first, grew louder, a symphony of longing that filled the room.

As the minutes ticked by, her pleas intensified. “I want to stroke your penis,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire. Without hesitation, I turned her onto her side, laying her back on the mattress, her body glistening with sweat. I lowered myself onto her, ready to resume my task. As she reached for me, her hand, already lubricated, found my member, and she began to stroke it with a feverish intensity. The sensation was exquisite, electrifying, as her touch ignited a fire within me. I responded in kind, licking her clitoris, sucking deeply, and plunging my tongue into her opening, teasing her with my rough edges before gently tugging on her vaginal lips. The rhythmic sounds of her moans became a mantra, a testament to her escalating pleasure.

This intimate dance continued for what felt like an eternity, each touch, each caress, deepening my desire and hers. Finally, after a prolonged period of intense stimulation, she uttered the words that would change everything. “I need to be drilled from behind.” A surge of anticipation coursed through me, electrifying my senses. With renewed vigor, I shifted her position, her head resting on the mattress as I lowered myself onto her back. My manhood entered her swollenness, and I began to move slowly but powerfully in and out, feeling the resistance of her muscles as I plunged deeper and deeper. As I penetrated her, she let out a moan, then a whimper, her voice choked with pleasure. “Touch my vagina,” she pleaded, her grip tightening around my member. I bent over her, my stomach resting on her back, continuing the relentless assault on her senses. I reached under her smooth, firm abdomen until my fingers found her ever-wet clitoris. Then, I began to massage the swollen button with increasing intensity, burying my firmness deep within her.

My fingers moved rapidly over her clitoris, then transitioned into the “peace sign” position, straddling them over my member and rubbing her lips up and down, back and forth, all while continuing my penetration. The sounds of her moans grew louder, more desperate, fueled by the exquisite pleasure she was experiencing. “Oh, oh, oh, harder, harder…I’m, I’m, I’m gonna’ love cream…cum with me baby…ooohhhhhhh…drill me, drill me…ohhhhh yessssss. YES! MARRIED SEX is great!” she cried out, her voice raw with emotion.

The heat intensified, driving me to the brink of ecstasy. I pulled my hand out and grabbed those tanned, tight butt cheeks, initiating a new wave of stimulation. As she had requested, I began to drill her, matching her intensity with my own. Just as fast and hard as I could physically manage, she screamed out, “pump me full baby.” In response, I began to unload, thrusting myself into her as far as possible, pulling her hips towards me and pumping her full of the pleasure she so desperately craved. At that very moment, she let out a piercing scream, a high-pitched, but undeniably lovely sound, as she reached climax.

After delivering my seed, we rolled over sideways, holding each other close. I continued to massage her breast, soothing her from the wild, passionate experience we had just shared. As I held her, lost in the lingering warmth of her body, I knew that I couldn't wait to return to her, to recapture the magic of our shared moments of intimacy. The thought of our next encounter filled me with anticipation, a promise of future pleasure and connection.

Driven by this desire, I retrieved my laptop and emailed my wife, setting a time for our next phone session. Knowing that even miles apart, our connection remained strong, I felt a surge of contentment. Perhaps, just perhaps, this separation wouldn't last forever. The thought of reuniting with her, of sharing another evening of passionate intimacy, was enough to sustain me through the days to come.

As I closed my laptop, a smile spread across my face. The memory of our last encounter lingered in my mind, a potent reminder of the depth of our love and the exquisite pleasure we found in each other's arms. And as I drifted off to sleep, I knew that my thoughts would return to her, to the warmth of her body, the scent of her perfume, and the joy of shared intimacy. The world may have kept us apart for now, but our hearts remained intertwined, forever bound by the shared experience of married sex.

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Behind the Veil: A Month of Bliss

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