Jerusalem Nights, Lost in Time

The scent of aged leather and cedar hung heavy in the air as we sat on the plush velvet couch, illuminated by the soft glow of the photo albums spread before us. It was a familiar ritual, revisiting the ghosts of our past, each faded image a trigger for memories both sweet and potent. My husband, Daniel, a man whose face bore the comfortable map of a life well-lived, turned a page, his gaze lingering on a picture of us, impossibly young, laughing beneath the swirling, iridescent hues of the Northern Lights in Norway.

“Remember when we were young we’d play our guitars under the Northern Lights in Europe, before the kids were born?” he mused, his voice thick with nostalgia. “Those were special times.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “They were special, and also the first time I danced for you? I still remember your face as you couldn’t take your eyes off of me.” I added, my fingers tracing the outline of his familiar features in the photograph. The memory, vivid and intoxicating, sent a shiver down my spine.

“I was so turned on I wanted to just take you in my arms, but it was me loving to watch you dance that helped me refrain until we were both ready.” Daniel chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. The image of that night, the electricity between us palpable, still lingered in my mind.

We continued flipping through the albums, eventually landing on a picture from the mid-80s – a vibrant snapshot from my sister’s 21st birthday party. “That’s us! At my sister’s 21st birthday party!” I exclaimed, recognizing the awkward poses and the brightly colored clothing of the era.

“I haven’t seen this photo for so long! We were so young.” Daniel’s voice held a hint of wonder. Indeed, we were a different breed then – carefree, reckless, and utterly consumed by the thrill of youth. The years had etched lines onto his face, deepened the shadows beneath his eyes, but the spark in his gaze remained, a constant reminder of the passion that had ignited between us decades ago.

A slow smile spread across my face. "I was just thinking the same thing," I said, my voice laced with a playful challenge. "Would you 'fancied an early night'?"

“I was just thinking the same thing.” He flirted, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I would LOVE an early night.”

He gently took my hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. With a deliberate grace, he lifted me into a bridal hold, carrying me towards our bedroom, the anticipation building with each step. The air crackled with unspoken desire, the scent of our shared history clinging to the fabric of the room.

When we reached our sanctuary, we began kissing, a slow, deliberate exploration of each other’s lips. The softness of his skin against mine, the taste of his breath, it was a familiar comfort, a potent reminder of our enduring connection. He placed ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” on the turntable, the iconic beat setting the rhythm for the evening to come. The music, a nostalgic soundtrack to our shared past, seemed to melt away the years, transporting us back to the heady days of our youth.

As the song progressed, Daniel gently pulled down the spaghetti straps of my dress, his fingers lingering on my skin before leaning in for another kiss. He then moved to my chin, tracing the curve of my jawline with a gentle hand. My body tensed, a delicious shiver running through me as I leaned into his touch. It was a slow, sensual awakening, a gradual building of tension that threatened to consume us both.

He pulled down my dress, revealing the smooth expanse of my skin, and ran his hands lightly over my delicate, milky white flesh. The sensation was exquisite, both a tease and an invitation. My gaze followed his every movement, aching to reach him, to lose myself in the depths of his desire. He wanted to massage me, to relax my muscles and awaken my senses. He rubbed some coconut oil into his hands, the fragrant scent filling the air, before gently working his way up my shoulders, down my back, and towards my lower back. The oil, warm and slick, sent a cascade of shivers down my spine, igniting a fire within me.

“Remember the night after we went to see “Uncle Buck”? Wasn’t that the sexiest night of that year?” I began, my voice a soft murmur.

“Oh yes, it’s still vivid to me. I rubbed your beautiful milky-white skin, caressed the softness of your long, brown hair, and fell asleep in your delicate arms as you caressed me.” Daniel replied, his voice laced with affection.

“Then when we woke up, we were side by side, and your arms were firmly wrapped around me as you held me close to you.” I continued, relishing the memory of that perfect, stolen moment.

“Oh, sweet heart I love how we remember these things.” Daniel stroked my hair, his touch both comforting and stimulating.

We embraced, naked and aroused, stroking each other’s skin in a silent conversation of desire. The heat between us intensified, fueled by years of accumulated longing.

Then, I lay on my back as I spread my legs, the position intensifying the pleasure I anticipated. It got me even wetter watching my husband position himself over me before he entered me and rolled me on him. We kissed passionately as my husband rubbed my back some more, and he moved around a little down there, playing inside of me. I then rolled him on me, and his penetration went deeper, intensifying my pleasure as he started thrusting.

We switched by rolling me on him. I felt his torso before kissing his chest, and he stroked my hair as I worked my way up his neck to his mouth. As we kissed, my husband caressed my smooth, feminine back as I pleasured him with my wet ladyplace and then I rolled him on me again. The way he moved and moaned was so sexy while he thrust.

There was no background noise and the only sounds I could hear were that of my husband’s and my sexy sounds. My husband played with my breasts, and he kissed them while stroking them.

I ran my fingers through and caressed his hair while sensually kissing him. My hot husband went even faster, causing me to have a sudden orgasm, and he did too! I love to listen to his orgasmic sounds while listening to my own. I tilted my head backwards, digging my head into the pillow a little bit while crying out and clutching my husband’s shoulders as he kept grunting and going at it passionately.

I loved listening to my husband catching his breath as I felt his gentle hand caress my face and neck. He kissed my neck multiple times and then he rested his head on my chest. I thought of him doing that from our early years of marriage. I kissed my sweet, gentle husband on his head as I remembered those beautiful times.

As the music faded, my husband gently pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. His body pressed against mine, a familiar comfort that dissolved all thoughts and inhibitions. The world narrowed to the warmth of his embrace, the scent of his skin, and the intoxicating rhythm of our shared desire. Lost in the moment, we remained intertwined, a testament to the enduring power of our connection, a reminder that some things, like the fire between us, only grow hotter with time. The night stretched out before us, a promise of endless pleasure, a celebration of a love that had weathered the storms of life and emerged stronger, more vibrant, and more passionate than ever before.

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