Countdown to Florida Nights

The rain hammered against the windows of the upscale hotel, a relentless rhythm mirroring the frantic beat of my heart. My husband, Sergeant Miller, was due back from deployment any day now, and the anticipation had built over months into a simmering, desperate heat. Tonight, I was indulging in that heat, pouring it onto the page, giving shape to the fantasies that had consumed me. It was a strange first attempt at writing this kind of thing, purely for my own pleasure, and a little bit for the thrill of sharing it with him.

The dinner had been exquisite, a decadent affair at a place he always managed to secure reservations at. The rich aroma of truffle oil and aged wine still clung to my clothes, a fragrant reminder of the sensual evening. As I turned to leave, his hand found my waist, a possessive, demanding gesture.

“Dinner was fantastic tonight, my king,” I announced, forcing a casual tone that did little to mask the tremor in my voice. “I was well cooked and filling.”

His lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile. “Of course, you’re welcome, Queen, but your pussy is my dessert.”

The words, spoken with such blatant desire, sent a shiver down my spine. The room door unlocked with a soft click, and I instinctively followed the gentle tug of his hand, allowing myself to be led into the darkness. We came to a halt behind me, his presence a tangible weight against my back.

“Take the tie off,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly.

Anxiety tightened its grip on my chest, but I complied, slowly peeling the silk tie from around my neck. As the blindfold fell away, the world snapped into sharp, vibrant focus. The hotel room was opulent, a lavish sanctuary filled with plush velvet furniture and gleaming chrome accents. And there, directly in front of us, on the enormous king-sized bed, sat a pink box. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized its contents. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a dress – a stunning, short dress crafted from the finest silk, the color of a perfect rose petal. Alongside it lay a nightgown, made of the same silky fabric, and a pair of fluffy sandals, matching the dress in a shade of pale pink.

Before I could even process the visual feast, he leaned down and kissed me, a slow, deliberate exploration that ignited a wildfire of longing within me. “Now put this on for daddy,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, and then, with a playful squeeze of my backside, he began to stimulate me.

The bathroom mirror reflected my flushed skin, the color of ripe cherries, and the barely contained excitement bubbling beneath my skin. I applied a generous amount of coconut lip balm, savoring the sweet, nutty scent, followed by a light dusting of powder on my breasts and legs. Then, I emerged from the bathroom, eager to share in the anticipation.

He greeted me with open arms, pulling me close and wrapping his arms around me. I leaned into his embrace, initiating a slow, languid kiss. His hands found their way to my neck and head, pulling me closer, deepening the connection. The taste of him, the salty tang of his skin mingled with the lingering scent of the restaurant, was intoxicating.

“Mmmm, you taste good,” I whispered, my voice husky with desire.

He shifted his weight, pressing me closer, and with a slow, deliberate movement, began to awaken my nipples. His tongue, warm and slippery, danced across my skin, sending shivers of pleasure through me. As he lifted me off the bed, holding me close, my legs instinctively wrapping around him, I gazed into his soul, meeting his gaze with an intensity that mirrored my own burning desire.

Standing before me, he held me firmly, my legs locked securely around his waist. The pleasure began to build, a rising tide of anticipation that threatened to overwhelm me. Juice began to flow freely from my vagina, a testament to the growing heat, and his hard, warm penis poked upward from his white polo briefs, a silent invitation to surrender. As he stood, I knelt to the floor, gently rubbing and sucking on his flesh, starting slowly, then accelerating, alternating between my hands and mouth. I watched his fiery eyes, observing his reaction with a fierce intensity, telling him how good he tasted, how desperately I needed him. Then, as he pulsed with pleasure, I began to smack his penis on my full, soft brown lips, watching him writhe and moan in blissful agony. Finally, I leaned in and gave it a gentle, passionate kiss.

My clitoris was fully erect, swollen and plump like a ripe plum, begging to be devoured. I crawled from the floor onto the bed, seeking the comfort of his embrace, but my body was already primed for the release that was imminent. He followed me to the bed, pulling my legs straight down, securing them tightly around him. He began kissing me viciously, rubbing my clitoris softly, teasing me with the anticipation of what was to come. The pleasure was building rapidly, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to consume me entirely. I was ready for him to come down, to suck and kiss me all over my beautiful pink pearl. The thought alone sent another wave of heat crashing through my body, and I arched my back, allowing myself to fully surrender to the moment. He responded instantly, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate, as he plunged deep into my depths. The world narrowed down to the feel of his body against mine, the taste of him on my lips, and the overwhelming sensation of pure, unadulterated pleasure. A moan escaped my lips, a primal expression of the depths of my desire, and as he continued his assault, I lost myself completely in the moment, surrendering to the pleasure, letting go of all inhibitions, and embracing the exquisite agony of release. The rain continued to beat against the windows, but within the confines of the hotel room, in the arms of my king, I found a sanctuary, a place where pleasure reigned supreme, and where the only thing that mattered was the exquisite sensation of being completely and utterly consumed. The scent of the rose-colored dress, the fluffy pink sandals, and the lingering taste of desire filled the air, a testament to the night we had just shared, a night that would forever be etched in my memory as the pinnacle of my most passionate fantasies.

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Countdown to Florida Nights

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