Desire's Warm Embrace: A Night's Plea

Could you do bedtime routine tonight?” I ask, desperate to unwind. “If you do that, I’ll have a ten-minute head start on me-time; then, I’ll be ready for some us-time.”

My strong and noble husband, Ben, is happy to oblige, and as I sink deep into a hot bath, I hear the glee of our son, Billy, and his father enjoying stories and snuggles before his early bedtime. Hearing Billy grow and thrive as a father warms me to the core as the hot water releases the tension of a month’s worth of stress and exhaustion. I take my time in the tub, allowing the steam to clear my head and draw my attention to the hunger in my heart and my hunger… below. The scent of lavender and chamomile hangs heavy in the air, only intensifying the anticipation building within me. I stretch languidly, letting the water support my weight, feeling the warmth seep into my skin, loosening every muscle. My eyes close, and I imagine Ben’s strong hands, the way they feel against my skin, the power in his touch. The thought alone sends shivers down my spine.

After withdrawing from the tub and wrapping a plush, white robe around me, I quietly tread across the house to find Ben busy at work on his computer in the den. The low hum of the machine fills the room, a rhythmic counterpoint to the racing beat of my own heart. Tracing the muscles in his neck and shoulders as I pass, I marvel how he can labor all day in the harvest heat yet still be so present at home. His broad shoulders and powerful physique are a constant reminder of his strength and protection. A slow smile spreads across my lips as I consider the delicious possibilities that lie ahead.

“Hey babe,” Ben says, turning to me, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “How was your bath? Do you want to unwind with an episode?”

With a wink, I drop the shoulder of my robe and suggest, “Why don’t we get more wound up instead?” I scamper to the bedroom, eager to begin our shared pleasure. Hearing the closing laptop and the scuff of a chair as he jumps up to follow me only heightens my excitement. The scent of his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and musk, fills the air, further fueling my desire.

I’ve laid out the pillows perfectly on the king-sized bed, creating a comfortable and inviting space for our intimate encounter. Soft, Egyptian cotton sheets are spread across the mattress, inviting us to sink into their plush embrace. As he lies face down, his back firmly pressed against my stomach, I knead the knots and tension in his shoulders, releasing the stress he carries in his muscles. My hands find the sensitive spot just below his neck, where the skin is thin and the muscles are tender. A low moan escapes my lips as I begin to grind my nakedness against his firm cheeks, feeling the heat radiate through my body. And as I lean forward to pamper his neck, I feel the trail of moisture I leave behind me, a tantalizing invitation to explore further.

I abandon the robe and let my pert, rigid, pencil-eraser-firm nipples tickle along his back, sending shivers of anticipation through me. I can feel his muscles tensing beneath my touch, responding to my touch. My breath hitches in my throat as I bring my hand up to cover his mouth, stifling my own moans. He shifts slightly, his weight pressing against my stomach, a silent acknowledgment of my escalating excitement.

In an instant, he’s rolled me to lie beside him, and he begins a massage of his own. With my globes now accessible, he alternates between nipples, using his thumbs, fingers, palms, lips, tongue, and teeth to drive me wild. I’m instantly writhing in desperation, too hot and bothered to know how to get him to keep pleasing me here, while also ravenous to have him please me… there. His touch is masterful, both gentle and insistent, pushing me closer to the brink of ecstasy. I gasp for air, clinging to him as he continues his sensual assault.

I jerk at the waistband of his briefs, groping to take a good hold of him and share the pleasure that’s pulsing through my core. As I close my hand firmly around his manhood and begin to rhythmically tug, I’m thrown to my back. The movement is a release, a surge of adrenaline that sends a jolt through my entire body. His grip tightens, pulling me closer, until I’m almost breathless.

“You’ve done enough massage for now – allow me!” And with that, I’m split open by one, then two thick fingers prying at my opening, pushing, circling, thrusting, massaging, then tantalizingly drawing out moisture to dampen my lips and thighs. The sensation is exquisite, a symphony of pleasure and pain that leaves me weak in the knees. I arch my back, welcoming his advances, desperate to lose myself in the moment.

“Please-” is all I can manage to utter before he is above me, his fingers removed and his cock ready at my entrance. “Please-” I gasp as he pushes in to claim me as his. “Please-” I cry, as he begins to roll and heave into me. “Fuck me-” I plead as he paws my breasts and launches into a rhythmic pounding. The power of his thrusts is undeniable, a force that threatens to overwhelm me. For missionary, I’ve never felt so primal, so needed, so satiated! It’s an instinctive, raw connection that transcends words.

“Fuck, yes, harder!” he growls, piling into me with renewed intensity. “Fuck, yes, more!” he tugs on my nipple into his mouth. “Fuck, yes, please!” I scream as I lose myself in pleasure as his thrusts connect us deeper and deeper. The world narrows down to the feel of his cock against my body, the rhythm of our movements, the shared breath of our pleasure. It’s an intoxicating experience, a moment of pure bliss.

“I want you on the couch,” he growls, withdrawing and dismounting. As I’m left with an emptiness that I’ll do anything to fill, I turn and sprint to the living room. Too anxious to waste time closing the blinds to the street, I flip off the living room lights as I race to the couch. Not wanting an empty pussy for a moment longer, I push him to sit, and I pounce at the opportunity to mount him. Bracing my knees beside his hips, I wantonly throw myself down onto his waiting cock. My hands grasp for traction and leverage, clutching the back of the couch and the back of his hair as I bounce and bob on his rod. I grind down onto him, desperate to feel him as deep as I can. I writhe, pressing myself harder against him and feeling myself stretch to accept his girth deeper and deeper. Fireworks flash across my vision as I sink onto him.

His mouth finds my breast, and he sucks and bites my flesh as I thrash and hump above him. I gasp in pain and pleasure, and he takes the pause as his opportunity. He pulls back slightly, allowing me to catch my breath, before plunging back in with renewed force. The intensity builds, escalating into a feverish frenzy that leaves me trembling with anticipation.

Suddenly, I’m thrown to the side. “Please-” I ask, as he turns me to the wall. “Please-” I moan, as he spreads my knees. “Please-” I beg, as I brace my arms on the back of the couch. “Fuuuuuuuck,” I growl as he sinks into me, balls deep, and pounds me. My pussy swells as I feel him throb and release, and we collapse to the couch together, spent, wound up, and perfectly content. The heat radiates from our intertwined bodies, a testament to the incredible pleasure we’ve shared. We remain like that for a long time, lost in our shared ecstasy, the world outside fading into insignificance.

We clean up, and I head back to the bedroom, expecting to doze until Ben finishes his computer work and joins me for sleep. Little do we know our dance is far from over that night. As I settle into bed, I hear a soft knock at the door. Ben enters, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He picks up a small, velvet box and presents it to me. Inside lies a delicate diamond pendant, shaped like a rose. "For you," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. He slips the pendant over my head, fastening it behind my neck. As I turn to face him, he leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. “Now,” he murmurs, “let’s finish what we started.” He pulls me closer, his hands caressing my body, igniting a fresh wave of anticipation. The night is young, and the pleasure is just beginning. The rose pendant, a symbol of our shared passion, catches the light, reflecting the fire within us.

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