Chicago Nights, Houston Dreams

The rain hammered against the windows of my Chicago hotel room, a relentless, gray drumming that mirrored the insistent ache in my body. Three weeks. Three weeks separated from Sarah, from the scent of her skin, the feel of her hair against my cheek, the sheer, uncomplicated joy of her presence. Houston felt like a distant, muted dream, the humidity and the familiar comfort of our home now replaced by the sterile chill of this city and the gnawing loneliness of being away. My business trip had been grueling, a constant barrage of meetings and presentations, but nothing could have prepared me for the emptiness that settled over me the moment I stepped off the plane. I'd taken to spending hours each night, stripping down in the hotel bathroom, focusing all my energy on the desperate need to build up a monumental load. It wasn’t just the physical act of edging that mattered; it was the mental exercise, the relentless pursuit of that creamy release, a tangible representation of my longing for her. Different positions became a desperate attempt to alleviate the torment – sprawling on the bed, facing the mirror to watch my own hard erection, the awkward squat that left me gasping for air, each movement a desperate plea for connection. The sheer weight of my cock, swollen and heavy from weeks of restraint, was a constant, uncomfortable reminder of my separation.

The flight home was a blur of restless anticipation. Each bump and shudder of the plane only amplified the throbbing in my member, solidifying the promise of reunion. Landing in Houston, the warm air hit me like a welcome embrace, but the real warmth was already building within me, a burning anticipation that threatened to consume me. Sarah was waiting for me at the airport, her face lighting up as she saw me, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and joy. The kiss she gave me was electric, a desperate claiming of my body after a long, agonizing absence. The weight of my luggage seemed insignificant as I followed her to the car, my mind already lost in the fantasy of being back in our bed, enveloped in her warmth.

“She’s crawling now,” she said, her voice soft, as we pulled into the driveway. “She’s just starting to explore, it’s amazing to watch.” The thought of our daughter, this tiny, precious being, filled me with a surge of tenderness, but it was quickly overshadowed by the primal need for her – for Sarah. Once she was asleep, nestled in her crib, a wave of restlessness washed over me. The room felt too small, the silence too loud. It wasn’t long before my cock began to assert itself, demanding attention, pulling me towards the bed. She was already there, naked, waiting, her body radiating an unspoken invitation. The simple act of stripping down felt like a release, a shedding of the day’s anxieties, replaced by an overwhelming desire. We clung to each other, desperate for touch, for the familiar comfort of her skin against mine. Her breasts were a siren’s call, begging to be suckled, and the thought of her scent, the feeling of her lips against my skin, sent shivers down my spine. The desperation to reconnect was palpable, a tangible force driving us closer.

I remembered the long, empty stretches of the past three weeks, the agonizing anticipation, and the sheer joy of being back in her arms. The scent of her pussy, usually a subtle background presence, now dominated my senses, a potent reminder of what I had missed so desperately. I fumbled for a bottle of whiskey, a desperate attempt to numb the edge of my arousal, but it did little to quell the mounting tension. As we lay tangled together, the conversation drifted into the bizarre reality of our separation, punctuated by nervous laughter and the shared knowledge of how strange it felt to be apart after so long. The butterflies in my stomach were a testament to the intensity of my longing.

“Lie on your back,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire. Her hands, soft and gentle, began to caress my body, tracing the contours of my muscles, lingering on my nipples, which responded with a pleasurable ache. The stimulation was immediate, intensifying the already building heat in my member. I felt myself becoming increasingly intoxicated, lost in the intoxicating sensation of her touch. She grabbed my shaft, her grip firm and confident, and began to slowly mount me. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a slow burn that threatened to consume me entirely. The fact that she was so wet from the prior foreplay made entry effortless, a welcome relief from the usual struggles. The feeling of her warm, wet body pressing against my hard cock was exquisite, a symphony of pleasure and anticipation. The slow, deliberate penetration was a ritual, a return to a primal connection that felt both ancient and intensely personal.

As she settled in deep, a wave of pure bliss washed over me. The feeling of her tits brushing against my face, the rhythmic pulsing of her body against mine, the sheer intimacy of the moment – it was overwhelming, exhilarating. I missed this so desperately, this complete and utter surrender to the moment. She let me know, through the tightness of her muscles, that this was all about me, about my pleasure, my release. Her mastery of my body was both frightening and utterly captivating. I could feel my cock swelling further, a massive, throbbing testament to the power of her touch. The release came as a torrent, a volcanic eruption of pleasure that flooded my senses. A thick, creamy load poured out of me, coating my balls, the sheets, and the very air around us. Three weeks of intense edging had culminated in this magnificent, unforgettable moment of union. The sheer volume of cum was a tangible expression of my devotion, a testament to the depth of my love for her.

Afterward, we lay intertwined, basking in the afterglow of our encounter, lost in the shared warmth of our bodies. The world outside faded away, replaced by the simple comfort of our love. It was a beautiful, messy, utterly perfect moment, a celebration of our reunion, a reaffirmation of our bond. The rain continued to fall outside, but within our bed, we were safe, secure, and completely satisfied. The lingering scent of arousal, the lingering heat of our bodies, the lingering memory of our intertwined limbs – it was a potent reminder of the powerful connection we shared, a connection forged in longing, nurtured by anticipation, and finally, gloriously, unleashed. The weight of my cock, now considerably lighter, felt like a tangible symbol of the joy and relief that had filled my body, a physical manifestation of the happiness I felt being back with Sarah.

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