Busy Days, Wet Dreams

The rain hammered against the windows of our modest suburban home, mirroring the tempest brewing within me. Thursday had been an unrelenting assault of responsibilities – a grueling day at the office culminating in a lengthy, draining meeting with the children's school board. The discussions surrounding a potential new job opportunity hung heavy in the air, a weight of expectation pressing down on me as I finally arrived home, utterly depleted. My wife, Kristi, was already present, radiating a quiet intensity that always managed to cut through my weariness. As we settled onto the couch, a strange, unsettling thought crossed my mind – a memory, vivid and unsettling, of a particularly potent dream from the previous night.

“I had a very erotic dream last night,” she murmured, her voice laced with a playful challenge. Her words felt like a key turning in a lock, unlocking a hidden current within me. “Some of it wasn’t even physically possible.” The admission hung in the air, laced with a suggestion of something both forbidden and intensely desired. Her gaze, usually warm and familiar, held a captivating intensity that made my pulse quicken.

“I was dreaming that I was lying on my stomach in bed,” she continued, her voice dropping to a low, suggestive tone, “You were touching me, and it felt so good. And somehow your tongue was in there too.” The image, both absurd and exquisitely arousing, flooded my senses. My pants strained, a tangible sign of the rising heat within me. The thought of her, vulnerable and yielding, her body responding to my touch, ignited a primal fire in my chest.

“I’ve been wet all day thinking about that erotic dream,” she whispered, her eyes locking with mine. “All day?” The simple question, delivered with a knowing smile, sent a shiver down my spine. “Yes,” she confirmed, her voice a breathy invitation. The air crackled with unspoken desire, a silent acknowledgment of the powerful pull between us.

Driven by an impulse I couldn’t quite explain, I surged to my feet, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Without a word, I moved towards her, my movements purposeful and swift. As I reached her, I gently unfastened her shirt and bra, laying them aside with swift, efficient movements. The sudden exposure of her skin ignited a fresh wave of heat, a primal surge of lust that threatened to consume me. With a deep breath, I leaped onto the couch, claiming her as my own.

My hands moved instinctively, tracing the contours of her body, exploring every curve and indentation with a desperate need for connection. My kisses began gently, lingering on her neck and shoulders, before escalating to a passionate, demanding assault that left her breathless and gasping for air. Her body responded in kind, a symphony of moans and sighs that fueled my every move. Each touch, each kiss, was an act of devotion, a desperate attempt to satisfy the unyielding hunger within me.

As I continued my exploration, her struggles intensified, her grip tightening on my shirt, her nails digging into my back. The intensity of her pleasure was palpable, electrifying, and completely overwhelming. I felt an almost violent need to reciprocate, to push her to the very edge of sensation. With renewed vigor, I escalated the pace, my hands moving faster, more aggressively, seeking to match her frantic energy.

Finally, with a determined look, I reached down and began to remove her pants and panties. The moment my fingers brushed against her delicate skin, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over me. The scent of her arousal, a heady mix of sweat and desire, filled my nostrils, further igniting my senses. As I slid her pants and panties to the side, my gaze lingered on her body, a silent acknowledgment of her beauty and vulnerability.

With trembling hands, I gently explored the entrance of her vagina, my fingers tracing the delicate folds of her labia. The anticipation built with each touch, a slow burn that threatened to ignite into an inferno. When I finally reached her clitoris, I hesitated for a moment, savoring the moment before unleashing my full attention upon it. My lips brushed against her sensitive flesh, a gentle, teasing caress that sent shivers down her spine. As I began to lick and suck, her body tensed, her muscles clenching in anticipation. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as she struggled to maintain control.

My touch became more insistent, more demanding, as I continued to stimulate her clitoris with my tongue and lips. Her body writhed and arched, her hips rising and falling in rhythm with my movements. The intensity of her pleasure was breathtaking, a testament to her exquisite sensitivity and my unwavering desire. The heat built within me, threatening to spill over, and I found myself losing control, consumed by the intoxicating sensation of her arousal.

As she neared the brink of climax, I shifted my focus, reaching down to slowly and deliberately stroke her G-spot. Her arms shot out, grasping at the headboard and anything else within reach, as she strained to maintain her position. The pressure mounted, her muscles screaming in protest, and she let out a final, desperate gasp before exploding in a torrent of ecstasy. The air filled with the sounds of her release, a primal symphony of pleasure that left me breathless and exhilarated.

After a moment of stunned silence, I jumped back up, grabbing her body and pulling her towards me. My hands continued their relentless assault, my kisses growing more fervent, my touches more demanding. As she writhed in ecstasy, her body responded with every ounce of her being, her moans and sighs a constant reminder of her exquisite pleasure. The world outside faded away, leaving only us, lost in the moment of intense connection and shared desire.

As we continued our passionate encounter, I noticed her arms stretching above her head, reaching for anything she could find for support. The sight of her vulnerability, her desperate need for connection, only intensified my own lust. I plunged my member deep into her pussy, feeling the friction and heat build as we moved together in perfect synchronization.

The rhythmic thrusts, combined with my passionate kisses and caresses, sent shockwaves through her body, pushing her closer and closer to another climax. She begged me to slow down, but her pleas were drowned out by the overwhelming force of her desire. I pushed past her resistance, determined to bring her to the very edge of sensation. As she neared another peak, I grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, deepening our connection.

Just as she was about to explode again, I reached for her vibrator, a small, powerful device that she always kept handy. As she grasped the handle, her eyes widened in anticipation, and she began to move it slowly and deliberately against her clitoris. The sensation was exquisite, sending shivers down my spine and fueling my own desire.

As she continued to stroke her clitoris, my attention turned to her breasts. I began to gently massage her nipples, circling them with my fingers, before increasing the pressure and intensity. Her body tensed, her muscles clenching in anticipation, as she struggled to maintain control. I continued my assault, pushing her closer and closer to the brink of oblivion, until she finally succumbed to the overwhelming force of her own pleasure.

With a final, desperate gasp, she released all control, plunging into another wave of ecstasy. As she writhed in her pleasure, I felt an overwhelming sense of fulfillment, a primal satisfaction that resonated deep within my soul. The rain continued to fall outside, but within our small home, we had created our own sanctuary of lust and desire.

As we slowly came down, I pulled her close, holding her tight against my chest. Her body was still trembling from the intensity of her pleasure, and I continued to caress her, savoring every moment of our shared intimacy. The world outside faded away, leaving only us, lost in the aftermath of our passionate encounter. The lingering scent of arousal filled the air, a testament to the power of our connection and the enduring nature of our desire.

As we drifted off to sleep, holding each other close, I knew that this was just the beginning of our shared journey into the depths of pleasure and passion. The erotic dream had been more than just a fantasy; it had been a glimpse into the boundless potential of our love, a reminder that there was no limit to the depths of desire that could exist between two souls.

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Busy Days, Wet Dreams

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