Fifteen Years of Fire

Well, where do I even begin? Sometimes, even after fifteen years of marriage and four beautiful children, you still feel like it’s your first time. Peter and I have always understood the importance of keeping the spark alive, even in our sanctuary. We both knew that as long as we both felt comfortable and it enhanced our love, we could explore any ideas each other had. Today was no exception.

I’m not the type to flaunt my nakedness like some others, nor do I relish the attention that comes with it. My husband, on the other hand, would practically live in his birthday suit if given the chance. He’s a magnificent specimen – a broad-shouldered, dark-eyed brown with a physique honed from years of working out. Today, he suggested a day of nudity, and the thought sent a delicious shiver down my spine. The kids were away for the weekend, returning late Sunday evening, leaving us with a precious few hours of uninterrupted bliss.

Peter had come home for the day, as usual, stripping down to his boxers to get some work done on the computer. I was in the midst of finishing the last of the laundry, with a hot shower beckoning me. Those were my favorite: long, uninterrupted sessions with plenty of soft music and the flickering glow of candlelight. A perfect escape from the chaos of daily life.

As I stepped out of the shower, I was met with a small, captivating trail of rose petals leading from the bathroom door down the hall. A tiny, handwritten note rested beside them: "Please don't put anything on; you’ve just entered Eden, and no apparel is necessary." A playful smile spread across my face as I followed the fragrant trail, my anticipation growing with each step. Soon, I found myself in the bedroom, where the door to our outdoor deck had been carelessly left ajar, the sheer curtains pulled back just enough to allow a gentle breeze to rustle through our hanging chimes, creating a beautiful, ethereal melody. The room was bathed in the warm glow of candles, the air thick with the soothing scent of lavender, and the rose petals led further out onto the stairs. Upon reaching the landing, I discovered a bottle of rich, dark chocolate set upon the banister, its label simply stating, “Please bring me with you… I’ll add delight to your night.” I picked it up, feeling a delicious thrill course through me, as I descended the stairs. The sudden coolness of the marble sent a pleasant shiver across my skin. As I reached the bottom, the comforting warmth of the fireplace embraced me, and there, laid out on the floor amidst a pile of plush pillows and a decadent satin blanket, was my husband, completely naked.

“I figured the shower might make you hungry,” he grinned, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. His manhood was clearly on display, a magnificent spectacle that ignited a fire within me. He extended his hand, and I instinctively fell into his arms, surrendering myself completely to his embrace. His lips devoured mine with a passionate intensity that felt both primal and utterly perfect, a sensation I knew could only come from a love that had endured the test of time. His tongue danced across every inch of my mouth, mirroring the burning desire that now raged within me. As I looked down, I noticed a warm trickle running down my chest, confirming my suspicions: he was pouring chocolate all over my breasts. “A little chocolate milk with my meal,” he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement as his tongue began to lap at my erect nipples. The pleasure was immediate and overwhelming, a delicious combination of sensation and desire. I loved this man beyond measure, and in moments like these, where we became one, immersed in a shared ecstasy, I felt as if we were intoxicated by our own love.

His hands continued to explore my body, sometimes gently caressing, other times playfully pinching or pulling, always maintaining that perfect balance between tenderness and stimulation. As he continued to lap up the chocolate, it gradually moved closer to my treasure box, a phrase he’d coined years ago to describe the most intimate part of me. I loved the way he called it that – it held treasures that only his eyes could behold. I longed for him to be inside me, desperate to lose myself in his touch. My body was ablaze with a fiery heat that intensified with every caress, every brush, every stolen glance. He slowly slid his fingers inside, and I tensed with anticipation, bracing myself for the inevitable release. As his head went down, kissing me in the most tender of places, a sudden startle caused him to pause. This evening wasn’t just a surprise planned by him; it was a double surprise for me too. My husband knew my body better than I did, and as he gazed at me with an uncontainable delight, he said, “Sweetheart, is there something you’d like to tell me? I love the sweet smell of my treasure chest, but we haven’t had any little bundles of treasure there for about six years… I didn’t even need to ask.” My response was a simple, longing sigh. His hands wrapped around me in a tight embrace, pulling me closer as his face met mine. The scent of my arousal filled his senses, sending shivers down his spine.

We had given up trying for another child three years ago, deeming the odds too slim. And yes, I was pregnant. My husband always said I smelled like heaven when I was expecting, and that distinctive fragrance was certainly present tonight. His love intensified, and he lay me down gently, beginning to rub my small, taut tummy with a tenderness that was both comforting and exhilarating. His hands roamed over my body, stopping periodically to pull me closer, their touch sending waves of pleasure through me. As he leaned in, his face met mine, and he kissed me passionately, a new joy sparkling in his eyes. Then, without warning, he pulled me onto his lap and gently entered my treasure box. As I rode him, he tenderly caressed my breasts and my back, controlling the pace with a delicate hand. “I’m so happy, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice filled with adoration, “maybe this time we can have a boy. Either way, I cannot wait… Have I told you how much I love you?” As our pace quickened, the rush intensified, and we both lost ourselves in the moment, breathing in the intoxicating aroma of love and passion. We found ourselves immersed in the shared ecstasy of creation, our baby boy taking shape within me. The warmth of his touch, the rhythm of his movements, the shared anticipation of a new life – it was a moment of pure bliss, a testament to the enduring power of our love. The world faded away, leaving only us, lost in the depths of our desires, connected by a bond that transcended time and space. My body, filled with life and longing, responded to his touch with a fervor that burned bright, a vibrant reminder of the incredible connection we shared. This was more than just a night of passion; it was an affirmation of our love, a celebration of our bodies, and a promise of a future filled with endless possibilities. It was a day to remember, indeed.

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Fifteen Years of Fire

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