Chicago Nights, Houston Longing

The biting Chicago wind whipped around me as I stepped off the plane, the scent of snow clinging to my suit. Three weeks. Three long, agonizing weeks separated from my wife, Sarah, and our daughter, Lily. Houston’s humid heat felt like a distant memory, replaced by the frigid reality of a February in the Midwest. It wasn’t just the weather that gnawed at me; it was the aching absence of her touch, her scent, her very presence. Back then, our budget barely stretched to cover basic necessities, let alone frequent phone calls. I’d tried to ration my longing, saving every ounce of pleasure for the moment I returned home, determined to deliver a monumental release after what felt like an eternity.

The hotel room was sterile and impersonal, a temporary refuge in a city that felt alien. Each night, after a grueling day of meetings and conference calls, I’d shed my suit and tie, stripping down to my boxers, a desperate attempt to cling to some semblance of intimacy. I’d spend at least an hour meticulously stroking myself, lost in fantasies of Sarah, her laughter, the warmth of her embrace. It wasn't just the physical act; it was the conscious effort to maintain her image in my mind, a desperate attempt to fill the void left by her absence. I experimented with different positions, seeking a heightened sense of anticipation, pushing myself to the brink of climax, only to hold back, building the tension until the next day. Laying flat on the bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the heat building within me, the reflection in the mirror a constant reminder of the time that had passed. The classic squat, clinging to the edge of the bed, the desperate grind against the mattress – each movement a silent plea for her return. My cock grew heavier with each passing day, a tangible weight of longing and anticipation. It throbbed with a primal energy, a desperate need to be released, to feel her again.

The flight home was a blur of nervous energy. My dick remained stubbornly hard, a stubborn testament to the suppressed desire that had consumed me for weeks. The thought of seeing Sarah, of feeling her skin against mine, propelled me forward, pushing back the anxieties and uncertainties of the journey. As we pulled into the driveway, the familiar sight of our house brought a wave of relief washing over me. Lily, our little girl, was already crawling around, her tiny hands grasping at toys, her infectious giggle echoing through the house. It was a moment of pure joy, a welcome return to normalcy after an extended period of separation.

We ate dinner, sharing stories of Lily’s adventures and my experiences in Chicago. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and warmth, but beneath the surface, the unspoken desire simmered, a potent force pulling us closer. Once Lily was tucked into bed, the tension in the room intensified. The air crackled with anticipation as I shed my clothes, my body trembling with pent-up energy. Sarah was already in bed, her presence a silent invitation, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and longing. The kiss that followed was electric, a desperate reunion after an agonizing separation.

Her breasts, soft and inviting, beckoned me closer. The scent of her pussy, intoxicating and familiar, filled my senses. I craved the taste of her juices, the feeling of her body against mine, the complete immersion in her pleasure. I reached for a bottle of whiskey, the warmth spreading through my veins, loosening my inhibitions and intensifying my desire.

“It feels so good to have you back,” she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. “Three weeks is an eternity.”

“Tell me about it,” I replied, my voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been counting down the days.”

She told me to lie down on my back, her soft, feminine hands gently caressing my body. Her touch ignited a fire within me, sending shivers down my spine. As she focused on my nipples, my cock began to swell, responding to her touch with increasing urgency. The warmth spread through my body, blurring the edges of reality, pulling me deeper and deeper into her embrace.

Slowly, she mounted me, her wetness a welcome relief, eliminating the need for lubrication. She took her time, allowing me to build to a peak, prolonging the anticipation, savoring the moment. Finally, she was deep inside, her body pressing against mine, creating an intense connection that transcended words. I missed this feeling, this oneness, with every fiber of my being. Seeing her beautiful tits right in front of me was a sensory overload, a primal pleasure that consumed me entirely. She made it clear that this was all about me, that my pleasure was her priority. Her tightness was like milking my cock, squeezing every drop of satisfaction from it.

Then, she reached around and began to tease my balls, pulling gently at my pubic hair, her fingers tracing the contours of my testicles. The sensation was exquisite, both stimulating and arousing. I let out a guttural moan, unable to contain my excitement. The load that erupted from me was massive, a torrent of pleasure that coated my balls and the sheets in a thick, creamy substance. Three weeks of edging, of self-pleasure, of desperate longing, had culminated in this moment, a perfect release of pent-up desire.

We kissed and cuddled afterwards, basking in the aftermath of our passionate encounter, lost in the shared joy of our reunion. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of her body against mine, the scent of her pussy in the air, and the undeniable truth that we were, once again, complete. The weight of my cock, now depleted, felt like a welcome reminder of the incredible experience we had just shared, a testament to the enduring power of love and desire. The memories of those three weeks, filled with longing and anticipation, now seemed like a distant dream, replaced by the intoxicating reality of our renewed connection. The journey back home had been long, but the reward – the exquisite pleasure of being reunited with Sarah and Lily – was more than worth the wait.

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