Jet Lag & Desire (L)

The rain hammered against the glass of the airport terminal, mirroring the frantic beat of my heart. For months, I’d anticipated this moment, this reunion with the man who held my entire world in his strong, capable hands. He was a titan of industry, a whirlwind of deals and meetings, constantly on the move for his company, leaving me stranded in the quiet corners of our sprawling suburban home. The kids, bless their hearts, missed him terribly, pleading for his stories and his bear hugs, but the distance between us felt like an unbridgeable chasm. There were nights when loneliness gnawed at me, a sharp, insistent ache for his touch, his scent, the sheer comfort of his presence. Now, finally, he was returning.

I’d arranged for my mother, bless her practical soul, to watch the little ones while I made the trek to the arrivals gate. The thought of their tiny faces, filled with longing, fueled my excitement. A quick shower, a careful application of vanilla musk, and the transformation began. A black garter, clinging tight to my thighs, followed by stockings that showcased a hint of the crotchless lace beneath. The bra, a delicate web of black lace, barely contained the anticipation bubbling within me. An all-weather coat, chosen for its sleek lines and ability to conceal, completed the ensemble. I felt like a predator, sharpened and ready to pounce.

Security was a tense affair, each step measured, each glance directed at the metal detector. The cold, clinical glare of the scanner sent shivers down my spine as I stepped through, praying I wouldn’t have to peel back layers of clothing for a more thorough search. The sweat prickled my skin, a testament to the mounting pressure. But I made it through, unscathed, and sprinted towards his gate, my heart pounding a primal rhythm against my ribs.

The terminal was a chaotic swirl of hurried travelers, luggage carts, and echoing announcements. The air hung thick with the scent of jet fuel and desperation. I scanned the faces, searching for his familiar features, until, there he was. He was even more impressive in person, his broad shoulders and confident stride radiating an aura of power and control. A primal instinct took over as I surged forward, pulling him into a fierce embrace. The scent of his cologne, a blend of sandalwood and leather, filled my senses, sending a delicious shiver through my body. We clung to each other, lost in the immediate joy of reconnection, before letting go for a passionate kiss, a desperate exchange of breath and longing.

We linked hands, navigating the crowded hallway toward baggage claim. As we waited for his suitcase to appear, he noticed my heels, a subtle display of confidence and allure. A knowing smile played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken desires simmering beneath the surface. The arrival of his luggage was a milestone, a tangible symbol of his return.

My car, parked in the dimly lit underground parking lot at the end of an aisle, was my sanctuary, a place where we could escape the prying eyes of the airport. The shadows deepened the intimacy of the space, creating a sense of secrecy and anticipation. As he slid into the driver's seat, I jumped into the passenger side, the leather seats molding to our bodies. “Let’s not leave yet,” I whispered, my voice husky with suppressed desire.

Then, the moment arrived. With a swift, deliberate movement, I unzipped my coat, revealing the carefully concealed treasures within. My eyes met his, a silent invitation to indulge in the pleasure that awaited. His face shifted, the mask of professionalism dissolving as a look of lust consumed his features. He leaned over, burying his face in the curve of my mound, his fingers tracing the delicate contours of my flesh. The first tentative licks were hesitant, a slow exploration, before escalating into a frenzied assault of tongues, teeth, and hands.

The anticipation built, a crescendo of heat and longing. As I began to buckle under the pressure, my hips arched and swayed, my body convulsing in a rhythmic dance of pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, a torrent of sensation that threatened to consume me. I whimpered in delight, lost in the intoxicating abandon of the moment. The sheer thrill of not having seen him for days, coupled with the heightened awareness of our proximity, pushed me over the edge. The world narrowed to just us, two souls united in a desperate pursuit of pleasure.

Quickly, I pulled the fabric of my dress over my body, shielding myself from unwanted attention. With another swift movement, I leaned forward, unzipping his pants. My hand reached out, gently taking the head of his cock, and pulling it down my throat. The sensation was exquisite, both shocking and utterly satisfying. As he moaned with pleasure, his cream erupted in my mouth, a creamy, salty deluge. I milked his cock, expertly guiding the flow of semen, ensuring every last drop was savored. We continued this intimate exchange, a desperate dance of submission and control, until he zipped his pants back up, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Now that’s a welcome home!” he exclaimed, his voice thick with pleasure.

We drove to my mother’s house, the drive filled with comfortable silence and lingering glances. The children, released from their confinement, greeted us with squeals of joy and a desperate need for attention. We spent the rest of the evening lost in their embrace, savoring the simple pleasure of their presence. As they drifted off to sleep, nestled in their beds, I knew that my husband was finally home, and he was all mine.

“I need to be fucked now,” I declared, my voice laced with urgency. “You need to service your wife, please!”

He didn't hesitate. With a gentle smile, he leaned in and began to make love to me, his touch both tender and demanding. The passion ignited quickly, a slow burn that intensified with each passing moment. The world faded away, leaving only the sensation of his skin against mine, the rhythm of our bodies intertwined, and the intoxicating aroma of desire. The hours melted away as we lost ourselves in the ecstasy of the moment, our bodies moving together in a symphony of pleasure. It felt as though we had been apart for an eternity, and now, finally, we were reunited in the most intimate way possible. The memory of our separation fueled our passion, transforming the act of lovemaking into an act of defiance, a celebration of our enduring connection.

As the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, we finally came to rest, exhausted but utterly satisfied. I leaned into him, burying my face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. “I miss you so much when you’re away,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. “It’s like I almost forget how you taste and how incredible your cock feels inside my wet pussy.” The thought of his absence was unbearable, a constant reminder of the void he left behind. But now, here he was, back in my arms, and the pain was finally over.

Looking up at the sky, I felt a surge of gratitude. “I’m so thankful to God for this man and for the gift of sexuality He gave us,” I murmured, a genuine emotion resonating within me. To God be the glory! The rain had stopped, and the air was fresh and clean, as if the world itself was celebrating our reunion. As I held him close, I knew that our love was a force to be reckoned with, a powerful and enduring connection that could withstand any storm. And as he continued to caress me, I couldn't help but think that this was just the beginning of our next adventure.

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