Longing For Her Absence

The sterile scent of the doctor’s waiting room clung to the air, a stark contrast to the simmering heat that had taken root in my core since my wife, Cassandra, had left for the morning. My CC, as I affectionately called her, possessed a truly potent sex drive, and her absence was a constant, gnawing ache. It wasn't just a longing for physical intimacy; it was a deep, primal hunger, a desperate yearning for the way she made me feel, the electric current that surged through my veins whenever she touched me. The thought of her alone, teasing me with her playful disregard for punctuality, fueled an inferno in my groin, a relentless pressure that demanded release.

I wasn't thinking about any particular act, not yet. Simply the memory of her, the way her body moved, the scent of her perfume, the feel of her skin, was enough to send a tidal wave of blood rushing to my private parts. As I sat there, trying to focus on my lukewarm coffee, my mind kept drifting back to the morning, replaying the flirtatious exchange in the kitchen. Her wicked grin, the way she arched her rear end into my pelvis while whispering moans that sent shivers down my spine, the swift, decisive escape she made to attend to her appointments – it was all a potent cocktail of desire and frustration. Each time her eyes met mine, a mischievous glint sparkling within them, I felt my pants tighten, the anticipation building to an unbearable crescendo. Her glances, so blatant and knowing, were a constant reminder of her power over me, a delicious torment that only intensified my lust.

The ten-minute drive to the doctor’s office was agony. The memory of her body pressed against mine, her wetness a tangible sensation against my skin, kept returning, tightening the muscles in my legs, making it difficult to maintain my composure. Looking in the side mirror, I caught her eyes, a casual glance down my crotch, confirming my fears and intensifying my pleasure. The thought of her, even miles away, was enough to make my muscles clench.

The doctor's waiting room offered little solace. The air was thick with the anxiety of patients awaiting their turn, but my focus remained solely on my wife. Her arched rear end, mimicking the playful grind from earlier, echoed in my mind, a phantom sensation that refused to fade. I tried to maintain my composure, to appear nonchalant, but the heat radiating from my body betrayed my inner turmoil. Her scent, a blend of vanilla and something uniquely her, hung heavy in the air, exacerbating my arousal.

As we sat down, the discomfort of my tight pants became unbearable. The thought of her, teasing me with her playful disregard for rules, was a constant torment. My wife, sensing my distress, shifted in her seat, squirming with a subtle agitation that only fueled my desire. We found refuge in a quiet corner, away from prying eyes, but the shared tension between us was palpable. I caught a glimpse of the young woman across the room, her wide eyes momentarily catching sight of my throbbing member before quickly averting her gaze. Her awkward attempt to disengage served only to amplify my embarrassment and intensify my arousal.

The scent of her perfume intensified as she stood, her body radiating heat, her movements fluid and confident. The sight of her, even from a distance, sent a jolt through my system. Her arched ass, a perfect reflection of the earlier encounter, was a potent reminder of her dominance, her ability to control my every impulse. Her gaze lingered on my crotch, a silent invitation to indulge in the forbidden pleasure that consumed me. As she turned to leave, a mischievous grin spread across her face, a silent acknowledgment of the power she held over me.

“Ahhhh…” I let out, the sound escaping involuntarily as I stepped out of the car in a trance. My body felt as if it were on fire, every muscle tensed, every nerve ending screaming for release. The blood rushed to my manhood, flooding my veins with a potent cocktail of lust and desperation. Looking down, I was met with the sight of my own arousal, a testament to the incredible effect she had on me. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, a frantic rhythm matching the throbbing of my member. The heat radiating from my body was undeniable, a visible sign of the pleasure I was experiencing.

As we approached the receptionist’s desk, the air grew thick with anticipation. The waiting room was filled with patients, but none seemed to notice the simmering tension between us. My hard-on intensified, fueled by the proximity of my wife and the overwhelming desire for her touch. The thought of her, even in this sterile environment, was enough to send shivers down my spine.

The receptionist called out her name, and my wife rose, her movements graceful and deliberate. As she approached the desk, she leaned slightly towards me, her body radiating heat, her gaze lingering on my crotch. Her presence was intoxicating, a potent mix of desire and control. Her eyes darted in the direction of my growing member, confirming my suspicions that she was aware of the effect she was having on me. The subtle grin on her face was a silent acknowledgment of her power, a playful challenge that only intensified my arousal.

As she turned to leave, she arched her rear end once again, mimicking the earlier grind, sending a fresh wave of heat through my body. The sight of her, so close, so beautiful, was almost too much to bear. A moan escaped my lips, a desperate plea for her attention, a silent acknowledgment of my complete submission to her desires. My hard-on remained, a stubborn testament to the power she held over me.

Back in our bedroom, the memory of the morning's events replayed in my mind, each sensation heightened, each desire amplified. The thought of her, alone in the waiting room, teasing me with her playful disregard for rules, was a constant torment. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air, a potent reminder of her presence. As I lay there, unable to resist the overwhelming urge, my cock began to twitch involuntarily, a silent signal of my arousal. The memory of her arched rear end, her wetness, her gaze, was a powerful catalyst, igniting a fire within me that could not be contained. My body tensed, every muscle clenched, anticipating the pleasure that awaited me. It was then that I realized the true extent of her power over me, her ability to both torment and satisfy, her mastery over my every desire.

As we both masturbated, lost in our own worlds, the shared pleasure was both exhilarating and terrifying. The thought of her, in that moment, was all-consuming, a burning desire that threatened to overwhelm me. When she let out a moan, her body arched slightly, a silent invitation to continue, I couldn't resist the pull. The sensation was incredible, a perfect balance of pleasure and pain, dominance and submission. The heat radiating from our bodies filled the room, a testament to the raw intensity of our shared experience.

As the evening drew to a close, I realized that my wife's absence had not diminished my desire, but rather amplified it. The thought of her, teasing me with her playful disregard for rules, was a constant reminder of the power she held over me, a delicious torment that only intensified my lust. I knew that when she finally returned, the pleasure would be all the more intense, the longing all the more profound. My CC, my beautiful, dominant mistress, my everything.

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Longing For Her Absence

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