Crimson Crust & Secret Sin

The rain hammered against the kitchen window, mirroring the frantic energy thrumming through me as I wrestled with the last of the Thanksgiving pies. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hung heavy in the air, a comforting counterpoint to the chaos of a house full of hungry, sugar-fueled children. Just as I finished the final pie, a rogue movement in the shadows drew my attention. James, my husband, had slipped into the kitchen, a glint of mischief in his eyes and a distinct craving on his face.

“James, leave them alone,” I scolded, my voice laced with amusement. “Those pies are for tomorrow.”

He feigned a pout, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Please, baby? You know my greatest weakness, other than you, is your warm apple pie with a little bit of vanilla ice cream.”

“No,” I stated firmly, reaching for a dishtowel. “If you want it warm, I’ll microwave your piece tomorrow.”

His sulking deepened, a familiar tactic he often employed. “It’s not the same. And you’ve been teasing me all evening with the smell of your yummy baking. So I should get a little sliver now.”

“Or you can have as big of a piece as you want tomorrow,” I offered, hoping to appease his immediate desires.

I dismissed him, satisfied that he’d temporarily lost interest, and turned my attention back to cleaning up the mess. But there he was again, a shadow lurking near the counter, his eyes fixated on the remaining slice of pie.

“James Andrew! Stop touching my pies!” I exclaimed, my annoyance growing with each passing moment. He was a grown man, capable of waiting patiently for his dessert. Yet, he never let me stay mad for long.

His gaze met mine, and he gave a defiant smirk. “Well, if I can’t touch the pie, then I’m just going to touch you.”

Before I could react, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close. His lips moved swiftly across my neck, tracing the delicate curve of my collarbone, while his hands lightly grazed my skin. The subtle bulge beneath his shirt sent a delicious shiver through me. It wasn’t just the pie; it was the anticipation, the intimacy, the knowledge that he desired me with every fiber of his being. The flour dusting my apron and the heat radiating from the oven only intensified the feeling, transforming my everyday kitchen into a haven of pure, sensual pleasure.

“You know I am the luckiest man alive,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. “The house is filled with the aroma of your amazing pies, you look so sexy and cute here in the kitchen, and your lips…they taste like heaven.”

“What does heaven taste like,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat, “as you described?”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against mine as he answered, “Like sugar, cinnamon, a dash of nutmeg, and a bit of flour, but mostly cinnamon and sugar.” He then pressed a lingering kiss to my lips, a slow, deliberate exploration that ignited a fire within me. I relaxed, letting go of the tension that had coiled within me throughout the evening, surrendering to the intoxicating pull of his desire. The oven timer beeped, a jarring reminder of the impending holiday, but in that moment, time seemed to stand still.

As I pulled away, intending to retrieve the finished pies, James continued his assault, wrapping his arms around me once more. “You are the BEST wife ever!” he exclaimed, pulling me close and showering me with kisses. “I love you, you know me so well. Going out of your way to make us minis so I wouldn’t whine…how did I get so lucky?”

“They do need to cool a bit, so how about I freshen up hmmm?” I suggested, feigning nonchalance while simultaneously revving up my own anticipation.

“You don’t have too,” he replied, his grip tightening around my waist. “I think you look smokin’ hot and sexy just like this.”

“I’m glad one of us does,” I giggled, pulling slightly away to give him a chance to admire me. “I’ll be back, it won’t take long.” I headed towards our bedroom, eager to shed my flour-dusted clothes and embrace the lingering heat of his touch.

A quick rinse in the shower was all I needed to feel truly refreshed. Returning to the living room, I found James already seated in our snuggle chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. The sight of him, still wearing his jeans, sent a wave of pleasure through me. I could tell he enjoyed my new attire, his eyes constantly drawn to the semi-sheer red top and matching panties. When he looked at me like that, I knew he was completely mine.

“Come here, you know I love you,” he said, reaching for my hand and pulling me closer.

I slid onto his lap, letting my legs wrap around his waist, seeking the comfort of his warmth. He instinctively began to caress my body, his hands slowly, deliberately exploring every curve and contour. He wanted me aroused, but not too aroused. He was eager to savor the moment, to indulge in the anticipation of what was to come. As he reached for my clit, his fingers found purchase, and I let out a soft moan of pleasure. His penis was still semi-hard through his jeans, a firm reminder of the pleasure ahead. I allowed myself to melt into his embrace, surrendering to the sensual rhythm of his touch. His hands roamed my body, searching for the perfect spot, while his lips continued their slow, insistent exploration of my neck. The tension built, a delicious mix of anticipation and desire, until I couldn't hold back any longer.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

One of his hands reached up to cup my breast, offering a firm squeeze before he responded, “Good, because I am very much in love with you. More today than I was on our wedding day.”

“This feels sooo nice my James,” I sighed, unable to resist the pull of his arms.

“Well I would hope after 13 years I would be good at the art of loving you,” he replied, his voice laced with affection.

“Of course you are. You’ve got the magic hands baby. What woman wouldn’t want your big, strong, calloused hands roaming their body?”

“Yes well, there’s only one woman’s curves these hands care to explore.” James then began to kiss my neck and continue with his touches. My neck is one of those spots that he can work at with his magnificent lips and I will just become putty in his hands. With each passing moment, every stress, every care, every worry, every tension left my body as I became a purring cooing mass of woman. A short while later I glanced at the clock and noticed the pies should be cooled enough by now.

“I’ll be back,” I purred.

“Don’t be too long. It gets lonely here without you.” We kissed once more before I left to go get the pies. They were the perfect temperature, just how James likes them. Nice and warm, but not hot enough to burn. I put them on plates with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and sauntered back to my husband. When he saw the pies his face lit up, as though he had momentarily forgotten about sex. No sooner had I sat back down on his lap then he began to eat his pie (it is one of his weaknesses, he’d do almost anything for a slice of apple pie). (Note from James again: correction I would do almost anything for a slice of LEAH’S apple pie).

James took his time with that pie, I finished before him and I’m a slow eater. But for some reason he left the last little bite on his plate.

“That was amazing as always my love!”

“Aren’t you going to finish it?”

“I thought you should have the last bite as you went through all the trouble to make it.” He put it on his fork and placed it in front of my mouth, while I certainly didn’t NEED the bite (hips don’t lie) James was sharing HIS apple pie. Somebody put it on the calendar!!

“I can’t believe you shared your pie with me,” I teased.

“Well sweetheart, there’s two things in this world I don’t share very well and they would be you and your apple pie. But it’s really not so hard to share the pie with you.” I smiled and shook my head at him, “Leah,” he laughed, “you’ve got a little bit of…” He started to kiss and to lick what must have been pie filling at the corner of my mouth. The kissing soon turned passionate as his lips moved from the corner of my mouth to kissing me full and hard on my mouth. His tongue was seeking entrance into my mouth and I eagerly let him in. I started to shift to bring myself closer and closer to him. My legs wrapped around his waist, his hands came down to my ass, and the next thing I knew I was being carried to our room.

I don’t know how he did it, but James kept his lips locked on to mine as he carried me down the hall into our bedroom, he pulled back the covers and laid me down gently on the bed. He did all of this without knocking us into anything.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered. He walked back to our door, locked it, and turned the lights on to a warm dim setting while I admired him from behind.

He started to come back to me when I purred to him, “James, take off your shirt.” He happily obliged, and I drank in his warm, strong, manly chest. Absentmindedly I began to trace circles around one of my nipples, he swallowed hard, “Now take off your socks.” Socks fell to the floor by his shirt, “Now your pants.” With aching slowness he took off his pants, revealing his hard penis straining against his boxers. Now it was my turn to swallow hard, “Come here, my handsome husband.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he walked over to our bed, climbed in and straddled me. He bent down and kissed me, slow, sweet passionate. He softly whispered in my ear, “Now I get to open my present and see what’s inside.”

I giggled, “You already know what’s inside.”

“Yes, but that’s one of the reasons why you are the greatest present I have ever or ever will receive. I still get so excited to take your clothes off, open you up, touch you, make love to you. After 13 years you still give me butterflies when you kiss me, when I see you in all your naked glory. No gift I have ever received does that to me. If I knew what was in the boxes I got for Christmas or my birthday, I wouldn’t be as excited. Even our kids. I love them to death, but you’re more to me than them. Toys and items are worn out and replaced. Parents and siblings and kids and aunts and uncles and cousins, we move away. But you won’t be worn out and replaced, you won’t move away from me, til death do us part.”

I was a sobbing wreck at this point. My heart was just bursting with love for James and simply saying ‘I Love You’ didn’t cut it. There was only one way to express my love for James. It’s the deepest, most intimate, most vulnerable way for two souls to express love for each other: I needed to make love to my husband. I reached for his face and kissed him with all the passion and love I could muster, pausing only for him to remove my top.

“I want to melt into you,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. We maneuvered positions so he was sitting on the bed propped up by some pillows. My face was still flowing with a few tears as I slid on to his rock hard penis. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him as close to me as physically possible, seeking the comfort of his warmth. He instinctively began to caress my body, his hands slowly, deliberately exploring every curve and contour. He wanted me aroused, but not too aroused. He was eager to savor the moment, to indulge in the anticipation of what was to come. As he reached for my clit, his fingers found purchase, and I let out a soft moan of pleasure. His penis was still semi-hard through his jeans, a firm reminder of the pleasure ahead. I allowed myself to melt into his embrace, surrendering to the sensual rhythm of his touch. I continued to purr, my body vibrating with pleasure as he moved lower, exploring my body with his hands. The tension built, a delicious mix of anticipation and desire, until I couldn’t hold back any longer. We exploded together, our juices swirling and mixing together. As we descended the mountain we just laid there and held each other. No words needed to be spoken. James’ head rested against the wall, his eyes closed, and his hands absentmindedly stroked my back and butt. My head was nestled on his shoulder and my hands roamed his chest and lower back. Finally James’ penis returned to it’s “normal” size and slipped out of me. Wordlessly we got up, went to our bathroom and cleaned each other off. James got back in bed, as I turned off the lights. I snuggled up in bed with my wonderful husband and kissed his perfect lips.

“I love you more than life itself, James Andrew.”

He gave me a gentle squeeze, “Yes well, I love you more than apple pie my sweet Leah.”

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Crimson Crust & Secret Sin

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