Midnight Parent's Touch (L)

My eyes snap open, a jolt of awareness washing over me as I try to piece together the remnants of a restless sleep. The soft cotton of the pillow beneath my head yields slightly as I lift my head, and my raven hair cascades around me, a dark halo in the dim light of the bedroom. A quick scan of the room confirms the absence of any restless children; the house is eerily silent, save for the gentle creaks of the old structure settling in the night. Two AM. A precious, unwelcome guest in my life, usually accompanied by the frantic cries of my little ones. But tonight, only the quiet solitude remains.

A wave of melancholy washes over me as I glance at my husband, Rob, a shadowy figure lost in the depths of slumber. It’s been a month since our last shared intimacy, a chasm widening between us with each passing day. Once, we were simply Rob and Rachel, husband and wife, but now, we’re more like Daddy and Mommy, consumed by the demands of raising our two young children. The stolen moments of passion have become increasingly rare, the joy of our physical connection diminished by the constant interruptions. The last time we managed to slip away, it felt rushed, superficial, a desperate attempt to recapture a lost flame that flickered weakly. It wasn’t our fault, not entirely. Life, with its relentless demands, has eroded the space we once shared, leaving only a lingering ache in its wake.

Yet, the desire persists, a stubborn ember refusing to be extinguished. I miss the comfort of his presence, the warmth of his touch, the easy intimacy that defined our early years. The thought of him, with his stubble-covered jawline, his piercing blue eyes, and the faint streaks of gray in his hair, sends a shiver of longing through me. It's a strange paradox, this feeling of both absence and presence, a constant reminder of what we’ve lost and what remains.

Carefully, I shift backward, pressing my ample backside against his sleeping form. Wrapping my arms around his broad chest, I seek comfort in his familiar warmth, a small act of defiance against the encroaching loneliness. He stirs slightly, a sleepy grunt escaping his lips as he nestles closer, pulling me deeper into his embrace. The scent of his clean pajamas fills my senses, a comforting reminder of the man I love.

But this is not simply a cuddle; this is a deliberate act of provocation. A slow, insistent pressure begins to build between my legs, a silent signal of my desires. The familiar ache deepens as I consciously focus on the growing firmness within him, a subtle game of push and pull designed to awaken his senses. Rob remains motionless for a moment, seemingly lost in his dreams, but I know he’ll respond, eventually. He always does.

“Rach?” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. The sound of his voice sends a jolt of electricity through me, a welcome distraction from the encroaching melancholy. I answer him with a gentle kiss to his arm, a playful invitation that he can't ignore. The pressure intensifies, a deliberate escalation designed to break through his defenses.

As he presses harder against my rear, I feel my body slowly awaken, the desire flooding through me like a tidal wave. The familiar heat spreads, igniting a fire within my core. It’s a primal urge, a deep-seated need that has been simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the opportune moment to erupt. The subtle resistance he offers only serves to heighten the anticipation, turning the moment into an exquisite dance of desire.

Hot breath brushes against my neck, a tantalizing invitation that sends shivers down my spine. I can feel his arousal, even before his lips touch my skin, a silent acknowledgment of the mutual desire that hangs heavy in the air. The roughness of his stubble against my skin is not unpleasant, a welcome contrast to the softness of his touch. It's a reminder of his masculinity, a tangible connection to the powerful presence that dominates my thoughts.

I relish the opportunity to tease him, to prolong the anticipation, knowing that he craves this same experience. But the fear of interruption hangs over us, a constant reminder of the precarious nature of our stolen moments. We must be quick, decisive, and efficient, maximizing our pleasure while minimizing the risk of discovery. The thought of being disturbed, of having our intimacy shattered, sends a wave of frustration through me.

Rob pulls back momentarily, giving me a chance to assess the situation and prepare myself. In that brief pause, I position myself strategically, ready to meet his renewed assault. When he returns, I feel the heat of his cock against my pussy, a powerful surge of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm me. The pressure builds, intensifying with each passing moment, as we grind against one another, seeking release.

My eyes close, and I succumb to the sensations, surrendering to the pleasure that consumes me. We begin to move slowly, our hips swaying in unison, lost in the rhythm of our bodies. Rob’s arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, deepening the connection between us. The love that surges through me is palpable, a testament to the enduring strength of our bond. It’s a bittersweet feeling, a reminder of what we’ve lost, but also a celebration of what remains. The days of cuddling and falling asleep in one another’s arms are gone, replaced by the hurried embrace of shared responsibilities. But tonight, we’ve managed to carve out a small space for ourselves, a sanctuary where we can reconnect and rekindle the flame of our passion.

I reach behind and grasp his arm, pulling him closer, and place my ample backside firmly against him. He responds with a sleepy groan, a sign of his pleasure, and snuggles deeper into my embrace, enveloping me in his warmth. The scent of his skin fills my senses, a comforting reminder of his presence. But this is not a casual embrace; this is a deliberate act of seduction, a silent declaration of my intentions.

The pressure intensifies, becoming more insistent as I push my hips against his crotch, seeking a deeper level of intimacy. The feeling of his arousal becomes more pronounced, a clear sign that he’s responding to my advances. I can feel my body awakening, my senses heightened, my desire reaching its peak. The subtle resistance he offers only serves to amplify the pleasure, turning the moment into an exquisite dance of lust.

“Rach?” he whispers, his voice still thick with sleep, but filled with a hint of anticipation. It’s a question, a challenge, an invitation. I answer him by reaching behind and twisting my wrist to grab his ass. A clear sign of what I want, and knowing he wants it too. He presses harder, deepening the sensation, as we grind against one another, lost in the heat of the moment. The room grows warmer, the air thick with desire.

Hot breath rushes against my neck, a tantalizing invitation that sends shivers down my spine. I can feel his arousal, even before his lips touch my skin, a silent acknowledgment of the mutual desire that hangs heavy in the air. The roughness of his stubble against my skin is not unpleasant, a welcome contrast to the softness of his touch. It's a reminder of his masculinity, a tangible connection to the powerful presence that dominates my thoughts.

My hips become more insistent, pushing further against his crotch, as I seek a deeper level of intimacy. The feeling of his arousal becomes more pronounced, a clear sign that he’s responding to my advances. I can feel my body awakening, my senses heightened, my desire reaching its peak. The subtle resistance he offers only serves to amplify the pleasure, turning the moment into an exquisite dance of lust.

“Rach?” he whispers again, his voice laced with a hint of urgency. It’s a plea, a challenge, an invitation. This time, he presses harder, deeper, demanding my attention. The pleasure intensifies, becoming almost unbearable, as we grind against one another, lost in the heat of the moment. The room grows warmer, the air thick with desire. The anticipation builds, reaching a fever pitch, as we push the boundaries of our shared pleasure.

Rob pulls away for a moment, giving me a chance to catch my breath and assess the situation. In that brief pause, I position myself strategically, ready to meet his renewed assault. When he returns, I feel the thick bulbous head of his cock against my pussy for just a moment. Then he pushes into me, deep and slow, drawing me further into the depths of pleasure.

My eyes shut tight, and I do my best to stifle a moan. We continue to move slowly, our hips grinding against one another, lost in the rhythm of our bodies. Rob’s arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, deepening the connection between us. Love swells inside of me at being so close and intimate again with my man — my lover and the father of my children. Despite all the changes in our lives and how we’ve both gotten older and more tired, he’s the only one that can make me feel this way.

I take his hand and guide it under the baggy t-shirt he’s wearing. He then does the rest, his strong hand gripping a handful of my large, heavy breasts. They are a long, long way away from what he first met, but the way he kneads them is still the same as is the way he pinches my sensitive nipple to draw a gasp from my lips.

“Rob,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with pleasure. I’m finally feeling brave enough to speak without shrieking out how good he feels inside of me. And God, do I want him to hear me moan. We don’t need any little intruders coming in, but I want him to know how he makes me feel.

Moving his hand to grab my torso, Rob repositions us so that I’m laying on top of him. His cock stays embedded in me as we shift, strong hands lifting my shirt over my chest and he takes both of my breasts into his palm. My back arches and I start to push down harder on his cock, rolling my hips down onto him. I bite my lip hard to refrain from crying out his name. I want to scream how much I have missed his manhood sheathed inside me like this. The pressure between my legs grows, reaching its peak.

Even after a month without any intimacy between us, Rob still knows the cues of my body better than anyone ever has. He knows I’m close. He moves his right hand from my breast to my sex, finding my clit.

It becomes a battle to stay quiet. My hands slam into the sheets of our bed. I grip them tightly as my chest heaves against the duvet that only partially covers my tits now. I don’t care at this point, though. The only noise I make is heavy breathing and slight, soft gasps. Soon, they turn into a quiet groan as Rob pushes me over the edge.

Our bedroom is filled with my shuddering gasps for air as I convulse on top of my husband. My pussy tightens around his cock as I cum. I moan as quietly as I can and continue to grind onto him slowly.

Rob gently caresses my body, lightly kissing my neck as he lets me recover. I know how badly he must want his own release, but at no point do I feel rushed. Indeed, I’m all but done recovering when I feel him pull out and place me on the bed. I can vaguely hear him to the side of me removing his bottoms under the covers. Then he helps me remove mine.

In the dark, I can’t see him too well, but I can feel the weight shift on the bed as he hovers over me. His kisses caress my lips, gentle, sweet, and full of the love I know he has for me. His hands are on my shirt, already past my large breasts that he had groped. He lifts it over my head, and I maneuver enough so he can toss it to the floor with the rest of the bedclothes. He then pulls the sheets over his shoulders and back like a cape.

His mouth drops briefly to take one of my nipples into his mouth. I let my hand run through his short, dark hair. Rob has been patient enough, though, and I want him still. I’ll always want him.

“Fuck me, Rob,” I whisper into his ear. “I want you to fuck me.”

He pulls back from my breast, and I’m sure I can see his smile in the dark. Then I feel my legs pulled apart. His cock slides back inside my sensitive pussy.

It’s his turn to do the work now. He uses his full length to slide slowly in and out of me to start. But I know what he’s building up towards, know how powerful and passionate he can be with me when he’s in the mood. It starts with his large hands grasping my thick, pale thighs. He uses his grip to pull me into each thrust.

He’s a shadow above me who could be anyone. But his deep grunts as he fucks me are the same I’ve always known. I know this body I wrap my legs around, my ankles crossed against the small of his back. I let my hands smooth upwards and against his thick chest. I love touching him and feeling the roughness of the hair across his pecs.

“Fuck me,” I gasp. “Keep fucking me, Rob. Fuck your wife.”

He thrusts into me hard. The bed begins to creak, and the headboard smacks against the wall three times. I reach behind and over my head to grab it and stop it making any more noise. There is no way I’m having the children stopping this now before we’ve finished.

I need his cum. Need to be reminded of how it feels to have his seed spill into the deepest parts of my cunt. To be marked as my husband’s once more as I mark him as mine.

He starts to take me deeper and faster. I hear the groan from his lips as my own squeak joins it. One of his hands grabs my breast and grips it hard as he pistons himself into me. The base of his cock against my clit brings me closer and closer to another release.

When he finally erupts inside of me, he collapses on top. The sound of his animalistic, guttural grunting in my ear sets off my own release. I wrap my arms tight around his shoulders and hold him close. I gasp out his name and roll my hips against him to draw out my orgasm.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so close to him. Even though I know when we’re woken up at 6 am by the kids I will feel beyond tired, it will be tiredness that will have been so worth it. My hands smooth up and down his back, and I let out a contented sigh of relief.

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