Blonde Bride's First Taste

The rain hammered against the windows of our small apartment, mirroring the frantic beat of my heart. Six months. Six glorious, intoxicating months with my wife, Seraphina. Six months filled with stolen kisses, whispered promises, and a connection so intense it felt like a physical ache. Tonight, she was leaving for a week-long work trip to New York City, and the thought of her absence was a bitter pill to swallow. I’d spent the day meticulously preparing everything for her return, a desperate attempt to fill the void she would inevitably leave behind. Roses, her favorite perfume, a new iPad she’d been coveting, and a surprise – a vintage silk scarf she’d always admired, tucked away in a box in the attic.

It started like any other Tuesday morning. I awoke to the warmth of her head resting on my chest, her arm draped across my stomach. Moving slowly, I eased her onto the bed, a gentle kiss to her cheek before slipping out of the covers. The air hung thick with the scent of her hair, a fragrance I knew intimately and desperately craved. As I made my way downstairs, the scent grew stronger, drawing me towards the kitchen where she was already dressed in her underwear and my old t-shirt. The sight of her, her curves accentuated by the simple garment, sent a shiver down my spine. She was breathtaking, even in her casual attire, and the way she struggled to reach a mug from the high shelf, her legs flashing a tantalizing glimpse of her backside, was an invitation I couldn’t resist.

Breakfast was a blur of shared glances and stifled sighs. The gifts were presented with a flurry of gratitude and a passionate kiss that left me breathless. As we cleaned up, she continued to test my resolve, reaching for my crotch while rummaging through the cupboard. The touch sent a jolt through me, igniting a primal fire within. I needed a cold shower, desperately.

The day crawled by, each moment a painful reminder of her impending departure. Work was a torment, every glance at my phone triggering a fresh wave of longing. Finally, as the sun began to set, I raced home, my heart pounding with anticipation. The apartment was silent, but the scent of her perfume lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of her presence.

And there she was, already in the bedroom, finishing packing for her trip. I embraced her from behind, pulling her close, and kissed her neck with unrestrained passion. She leaned back into my arms, wrapping her arms around my waist, and the familiar rhythm of our movements calmed my frantic thoughts. Just as I thought things couldn't get any better, she pushed me away, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I need to pack," she whispered, her voice laced with anticipation.

Lying on the bed next to her suitcase, I pouted playfully, hoping to delay the inevitable. She laughed, a sound that sent shivers down my spine, and continued her packing, pulling out forgotten items and stuffing them into her bag. I, meanwhile, meticulously sorted through her belongings, retrieving her underwear, spinning them in my hands before launching them playfully at her. She initially protested, but her laughter quickly turned into genuine amusement as I progressed through her bras, each piece a tantalizing glimpse of her skin.

Still chuckling at my antics, she collapsed onto the bed beside me, a playful smirk on her face. I seized the opportunity, grabbing the seductive thong I had been holding and holding it up against myself, gesturing for her to put it on. Her coy look intrigued me, and she stripped down to her waist, revealing the lacey thong beneath. My penis immediately sprang into action, eager to meet its destiny. I scrambled off the bed, embracing her in a passionate, hungry kiss. Her hand instinctively found my shirt, unbuttoning it with a speed that both surprised and thrilled me. Within seconds, I was completely naked, my body a willing participant in her desires. Nestled securely in her tummy, I felt an overwhelming sense of pleasure and anticipation. Her hand gently massaged my balls, expertly teasing and tantalizing, while I nibbled on her neck and played with her breasts. As she slid backward onto me, my body responded with an uncontrollable surge of pleasure.

We stood behind each other, thrusting with ferocious intensity as she orgasmed around my penis. Her legs shook with the force of her pleasure, her grip on the suitcase unwavering, her arm wrapped tightly around mine. Her cries of ecstasy were both intoxicating and overwhelming, prolonging my own pleasure to an unbearable degree. When we both finally succumbed to the waves of pleasure, collapsing onto the bed in a tangled heap, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, and we lay there cuddling for a blissful half hour, lost in our shared joy.

She rose to finish packing, her movements efficient and purposeful, while I drifted into a deep, contented sleep. As she descended the stairs with her suitcase, she left a small parcel on the table. Upon opening it, I discovered three envelopes. The first, addressed "When you miss being loved," contained a heartfelt note from her, expressing her deep affection and gratitude. The second, "When you’re horny," held her favorite thong from earlier, along with a selection of explicit photographs, and the third was a list of food items from the freezer, a playful hint of what was to come during her week-long absence. A small box on top read: "This first week away will go quicker than ever, my love. Promise."

As she left for the airport, she paused at the car door, pulling me back for one last, passionate squeeze before disappearing from my sight. "I love you, baby," she whispered, "Have an amazing time and come home to me quickly and safely. Happy Birthday, my love." She hugged me one last time, her voice filled with affection, before stepping into the waiting car.

As she pulled away, she turned in the rearview mirror, blowing me a final, playful kiss. I was left standing alone in the rain-soaked apartment, a bittersweet ache in my heart. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air, a painful reminder of her absence. But as I turned to pick up the small parcel she had left behind, a smile spread across my face. The thought of her return, and the pleasures it would undoubtedly bring, was enough to chase away the melancholy and fill me with anticipation. The week ahead would be long, but I knew, with unwavering certainty, that it would pass by in a flash.

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Blonde Bride's First Taste

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