Forbidden Weekend at the Retreat

The retreat was supposed to be a reset, a chance for Sarah and me to reconnect after the relentless grind of raising two kids and running a business. The brochures promised intimacy, relaxation, and a deeper understanding of each other. What they didn’t mention was the simmering heat that had been building between us for months, a slow burn fueled by frustration and a shared desire for something more. The childcare arrangements were a blessing, a temporary separation that felt both liberating and slightly cruel. It allowed us to crave each other in a way we hadn’t in years.

After a day spent exploring the sprawling resort grounds, complete with a miniature golf course and a surprisingly well-stocked gift shop, we finally made it back to our room. The kids, bless their chaotic hearts, were already asleep, sprawled across the king-sized bed in a tangled mess of limbs and blankets. Relief washed over me, quickly followed by a surge of anticipation. This was our moment.

“Let’s do this,” Sarah whispered, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She’d been just as restless as I had, the energy from the day clinging to her like a second skin. Without a word, we began to shed our clothes, the simple act charged with unspoken longing. The room felt small, suddenly intimate, filled with the scent of her perfume and the thrum of our shared desire.

We grabbed some towels and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind us. The cool tile floor was a welcome contrast to the heat building within us. Sarah quickly turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature to a steamy warmth. As she stepped in, she grabbed my cock, her fingers finding their way between my legs with an instinctive familiarity.

"Hey," I murmured, responding to her touch with a possessive grip on her breasts, squeezing them gently. I moved to her clitoris, my fingertips tracing the sensitive flesh, eliciting a stifled squeal of pleasure. We spent what felt like an eternity lost in our own bodies, a silent conversation of touch and sensation. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

“Let’s get clean first, mister,” Sarah said, pulling away with a playful smirk. The thought of getting clean suddenly seemed insignificant compared to the immediate need for release.

“Okay,” I agreed, stealing one last, lingering caress of her breast before she grabbed the soap. The playful flirting continued, handwashing intertwined with suggestive glances and lingering touches. The scent of lavender and citrus filled the air, a heady mix of cleanliness and desire. As she waited for me to finish rinsing, she took control, pulling my cock into her hands and initiating a slow, deliberate handjob. I returned the favor, focusing on her ass, teasing her back with gentle strokes and playful squeezes.

Finally, we stepped out of the shower, dripping wet and utterly spent. Sarah raised one long, elegant leg, placing it on the side of the tub. "Get in here, mister," she demanded, her voice a silken invitation. Without hesitation, I stepped forward, sliding into her warm, wet body. Her moan of pleasure echoed in the small room, confirming the intensity of our shared arousal.

The teasing and flirting had built the tension to a fever pitch. When I started thrusting, she grabbed the handicap bar and began to humped in perfect synchronization with my movements. The first orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, a release so intense that she let out a strangled cry. We slowed down, allowing her to recover before continuing our passionate embrace. We kissed deeply, our bodies moving together in a rhythm of pleasure and release. The kids might be asleep, but we were far from it.

As we resumed our thrusts, Sarah pulled me closer, her hips pressing against mine. I could feel the heat building in her body, a clear indication that she was nearing another climax. She fought to contain her pleasure, stifling her moans as we continued our rhythmic dance. When she finally let loose, her orgasm crashed over her, shaking her entire body. She gripped the bar tightly, her knees buckling slightly under the force of her pleasure.

Then, she slid forward off of me, turning to face me once more. Lifting her leg again, she pushed her hips forward, offering her hot snatch to my eager embrace. I entered her once more, and we plunged deeper into our shared passion, pushing our bodies to the limits of pleasure. We continued our frenzied dance, alternating between thrusting and humping, each movement bringing us closer to the brink.

Two more orgasms followed in quick succession, each one more intense than the last. As the final wave of pleasure subsided, Sarah lowered her leg, the sensation now shifting and changing. I felt my own climax rising, fueled by her proximity and the lingering heat of our encounters. Her orgasm hit me hard, a powerful surge that left me gasping for breath.

Sarah placed her foot on the tub edge once more, holding onto me as I thrust into her. I could feel her anticipation, her need to share in my release. She dug her nails into my back, a sharp reminder of our mutual desire. I kissed her deeply, then grabbed her ass with both hands, pulling her closer as we came simultaneously. She moaned into my mouth, clinging to my shoulders as my load shot into her and her own orgasm rocked her.

We kissed again, then parted, returning to the shower to cleanse ourselves of the remnants of our passion. As we dressed, the sounds of our children’s restless sleep drifted from the next room. It was a strange juxtaposition: the chaos of childhood and the quiet desperation of our desires.

Stepping out of the room, we faced the unknown, ready to deal with whatever mayhem our children had unleashed upon us. But for now, the retreat had been a success. We had rediscovered each other, reignited the flames that had begun to dwindle, and found a temporary escape from the demands of our lives. The memory of our shared intimacy would linger long after we left this secluded haven, a potent reminder of the power of desire and the importance of reconnecting with the ones you love. And as we navigated the chaos of the morning, a small, satisfied smile played on our lips, knowing that the retreat, though short, had left an unforgettable mark on our hearts.

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