Last Ride Home: A Fallen Angel

The rain hammered against the windows of the pickup truck, mirroring the frantic beat of my heart as I pulled up to the curb. A few weeks had passed since I’d left for that drug interdiction mission, and the scent of pine and damp earth clung to my clothes, a stark contrast to the humid air of home. My wife, Sarah, was waiting, a beacon of warmth amidst the gray afternoon. She looked breathtaking, as always, her chestnut hair pulled back in a loose braid, revealing the delicate curve of her neck. The last time I’d seen her truly radiant was before she left for heaven. I still held onto the memory, clinging to its beauty like a lifeline.

As we drove, she took my right hand, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. She placed my fingers against her breast, and with a slow, deliberate motion, she opened her shirt. My hand slipped inside, cradling the perfectly formed swell of her breast. The sensation was exquisite, primal, and deeply comforting. She began to masturbate, her body a symphony of pleasure, and I watched, mesmerized, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of her movements. It wasn’t a particularly graceful display, but it was hers, and I reveled in its raw, uninhibited beauty. I wanted to join her, to lose myself in the heat of the moment, but not while driving. The thought made my pulse quicken.

Soon, a low moan escaped her lips, a promise of what was to come. It grew louder, more insistent, a crescendo of desire that built within her and radiated towards me. Then, she unleashed it – a full-blown, earth-shattering orgasm that shook her entire body. Her muscles tensed, her breath came in ragged gasps, and her moans escalated into guttural cries. It was a release of pent-up tension, a torrent of pleasure that left her weak and vulnerable.

As she recovered, she demanded, her voice husky with anticipation, “Open your pants, darling. Let’s get this show on the road.” I didn't hesitate. With my free hand, I unfastened the buttons of my BDU shirt, feeling the rough fabric tear away from my skin. She lunged forward, her hands gripping my stiff cock with surprising strength. The initial sensation was shocking, a jolt of raw power that sent shivers down my spine. She began to fondle, stroke, and tease my member, her fingers tracing every inch of its length and circumference. The anticipation built with each caress, a slow burn that threatened to consume me.

Just then, a familiar rumble filled the air. It was Mr. Henderson, our neighbor, driving his pickup truck behind us. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw his disapproving gaze, a silent condemnation of what was about to happen. Sarah didn't seem to care. She had always been fiercely independent, and her desires were her own. I had learned long ago to respect her boundaries, even when they pushed me to my limits.

We pulled into the driveway, the rain intensifying as we approached the house. "Forget your bags, let's get inside," she commanded, her voice laced with urgency. The children were grown and gone, so the mess didn’t matter. We hurried into the bedroom, stripping as we went, eager to shed the last vestiges of our inhibitions. Once we were both free of our clothing, she pushed me onto the bed, her movements deliberate and controlled. She crawled over me, grabbed my erect member, and slid it into her mouth. It was a bizarre, yet undeniably pleasurable sensation. I missed her, desperately, yearning for the comfort of her touch. She was my only sex partner, and I couldn’t imagine a more perfect experience. Her blowjob was legendary, a masterpiece of sensual perfection that left me breathless and yearning for more.

As I neared climax, I gently pushed her away, laying her on her back and raising her legs. I began to inch my way up from her knee, feeling the heat radiating from her body. The thought of shaving my head, so she wouldn’t be rushing me to her aching pussy, flashed through my mind. Upon my arrival, I could smell the intoxicating scent of sex and desire, a potent combination that heightened my senses.

I began to flick her clitoris with my tongue, savoring each touch, before sucking it into my lips and returning to the rhythmic dance of pleasure. She moaned and bucked, pushing my head as far as she could into her wet, throbbing pussy, finding pleasure in my struggle. It was a glorious moment of shared ecstasy, a testament to our deep connection.

After her orgasm subsided, I grabbed her, rolled her onto her stomach, and raised her ass up, driving my cock deep into her. She loved the slow slide, the anticipation of the inevitable. It was a ritual she craved, a release she desperately needed. I pushed all the way in, then completely withdrew, repeating the process over and over again, until she simply wanted me to continue pounding into her.

As I set a steady rhythm, her voice grew louder, demanding more. "Harder, darling! Push me further!" Her cries echoed through the room, fueled by the intensity of her pleasure. The harder I pounded, the louder she screamed, her body writhing in ecstasy. It was a symphony of sensation, a primal dance of love and lust.

Suddenly, I heard a voice outside the window. "Beth, let's get inside!" It was our teenage daughter, Becky, calling to her mother. Oops. But now, the moment was almost upon us, and I was getting close to cuming. My wife moaned for me to cum inside her, and I obliged, driving my cock deeply into her pussy until I exploded in an epic orgasm, shooting my load into her sweet, wet, and clinching pussy.

I collapsed on the bed next to her, exhausted but exhilarated. "Did you hear the neighbor?" I asked, catching my breath. She shook her head, her eyes still glazed with pleasure. "Sorry, Becky," I called out to the window, lying naked beside her, the rain drumming a steady rhythm against the glass. We both laughed, a shared understanding passing between us, a silent acknowledgment of the intense pleasure we had just experienced. The world outside faded away, replaced by the warmth of her body and the lingering scent of desire. The rain continued to fall, washing away the remnants of the night, but the memory of our encounter would remain, a treasured secret shared only between us.

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