Emergency Delivery, Burning Desire

The sterile scent of antiseptic still clung to the air, a grim reminder of the chaos that had ripped through our lives just weeks ago. The emergency C-section, the frantic hours in the hospital, the relief when our second daughter, Lily, finally took her first breath – it all felt like a distant, surreal dream. But the aftermath, the enforced abstinence, it was a harsh reality we both had to endure. Now, a few weeks later, the tension had built up like a pressure cooker, simmering just beneath the surface. My wife, Suzy, had texted me during a particularly grueling work meeting, her words a potent mixture of desire and urgency: “Baby’s asleep, I’m burning up, get home!” Ten minutes. That's all it took for me to abandon my spreadsheets, my powerpoint presentation, and the judgmental stares of my colleagues. The pull of her was too strong, too primal to ignore.

The drive home was a blur of adrenaline and anticipation. Every red light felt like an eternity, every passing car a tantalizing glimpse of what awaited me. As I sprinted up the stairs, the scent of her perfume, a heady blend of vanilla and musk, filled my senses. She lay naked on the bed, a vision of raw, untamed beauty, her body swollen and glistening with sweat. Her breasts, heavy and full, strained against the thin cotton of her nightgown, a blatant invitation that sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. Her freshly shaved vulva, pale and smooth, beckoned with an almost aggressive promise. It was the kind of longing, the desperate need for release, that only comes after weeks of restraint.

I grabbed the box of mixed condoms from the drawer, the familiar plastic a small comfort in this moment of intense desire. I rummaged through the selection, my hand instinctively reaching for one at random. It was a generic brand, a simple latex sheath, but in this context, it felt like a disposable barrier between us and the overwhelming pleasure that was about to erupt. I slipped it on, a quick, efficient movement that felt strangely clinical against the backdrop of our raw need.

We both knew this wasn't going to be a slow, sensual exploration. This was a primal, desperate act, fueled by pent-up hormones and the knowledge that time was running out. We were both exhausted, both physically and emotionally drained by the recent ordeal, and the urgency of the situation added another layer of intensity to our desire.

Suzy arched her back, her legs drawn up over my shoulders, creating a perfect cradle for me to sink into. The weight of her body pressed against me, a tangible reminder of her presence, her power. As I began to thrust, there was no hesitation, no gentle approach. It was a full-throttle assault, a relentless pounding that bypassed all inhibitions. My cock, hard and throbbing with anticipation, met her with a force that felt both violent and exhilarating.

Suzy responded with a guttural moan, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room. She scraped her nails down my back, a slow, deliberate act of dominance and submission. She squeezed my nipples, the sharp pain sending jolts of electricity through my body. “Fuck my cunt harder with your big cock!” she screamed, her voice raw with lust. Her words were a command, an imperative that demanded immediate obedience.

I pushed harder, ignoring the building pressure, the growing discomfort. The world narrowed down to this single, intense sensation, this overwhelming urge to lose myself in her pleasure. Sweat poured from my skin, soaking my shirt, clinging to my chest. My arms trembled with the effort, my heart pounded against my ribs like a trapped bird. It wasn't just about the physical act; it was about the complete surrender, the abandonment of control, the release of all inhibitions.

Fifteen minutes passed in a blur of intense pressure and mounting frustration. My muscles burned, my breathing became ragged, and the feeling of impending climax, the sensation of almost reaching the peak, was becoming increasingly unbearable. The numbing effect of the condom was doing its job, dampening the sensations, delaying the inevitable. Yet, despite all of this, I was still going hard, trapped in a cycle of escalating pleasure and mounting tension. It was a strange, paradoxical experience, one that left me feeling both exhilarated and exhausted.

Finally, the pressure became too much to bear. I couldn’t hold on any longer. With a groan of defeat, I pulled away, collapsing onto the bed beside her, utterly spent. We lay there in silence for a moment, catching our breath, assessing the damage.

Suzy looked at me with a worried expression, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?” she whispered, her voice laced with concern. “You’re not enjoying this.” Was she right? Had I lost my edge, my primal instinct? Was I becoming complacent, too accustomed to pleasure to fully embrace the experience? Or was there something else entirely at play, something deeper and more profound?

I checked the box of condoms, examining the sheath I had used. It was a ribbed variety, designed to enhance sensation and provide additional stimulation. Then it hit me – it was one of those numbing condoms, the kind made for guys who suffered from premature ejaculation. The very thing that was hindering my pleasure was also the reason I had chosen it in the first place. The reduced sensitivity, the delayed climax, it all made sense now. It wasn't a lack of desire; it was a physiological impediment, a physical barrier to the full expression of our lust.

Just then, our daughter, Lily, began to cry, her tiny voice piercing through the silence. We exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between us. The urgency of the situation shifted again. The need to lose ourselves in our own pleasure had to wait. With a shared laugh, we scooped her up in our arms, soothing her cries and returning her to her crib. As we settled back onto the bed, Suzy turned to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Next time,” she said, her voice dripping with playful challenge, “pick one that’s ribbed for my pleasure!” The thought of her pleasure, the anticipation of her touch, already sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through my veins. The game, it seemed, was far from over.

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