Towel Days: A Wet Blessing

The rain hammered against the windows of our opulent penthouse suite, a fitting soundtrack to the escalating tension in the room. My wife, Seraphina, a vision in a silk robe the color of midnight, stood before the immense panoramic window, her back to me, the city lights blurring behind her like a shimmering, restless dream. Just like every morning since we’d married two years ago, my pulse quickened, a primal surge of desire washing over me as I caught sight of her naked form, a testament to her perfectly sculpted physique. Her body was a masterpiece – toned, petite, and exquisitely proportioned, each curve a silent invitation. Her breasts were large, firm, and undeniably captivating, while her waist and belly were lean and elegant, leading down to a small, tight, pear-shaped ass. Even the three-finger gap at the top of her thighs, a subtle display of her smooth mound, was a source of constant, delicious anticipation.

I took a deep breath, savoring the moment, before speaking, my voice low and husky. "You look stunning," I murmured, my gaze lingering on the exquisite details of her form.

She turned slowly, a slow, deliberate movement that sent shivers down my spine. A playful smile touched her lips as she replied, "And you look quite handsome yourself, darling." Her words were a promise, a prelude to the pleasures that awaited.

She then proceeded to dress, pulling on a crimson lace bra and a matching thong panty, followed by a flowing, scarlet dress that clung to her curves like a second skin. As she moved, the fabric whispered against her skin, a tantalizing sensation that heightened my awareness of her beauty.

“How do I look?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Good enough to devour," I replied, unable to contain the heat that was building within me. My cock was already hard, throbbing with anticipation, a captive force ready to unleash its desires.

As if summoned by my words, she knelt gracefully before me, reaching out to grasp my erect member. Her touch was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. She licked it with a slow, deliberate rhythm, circling her tongue around my head and kissing my shaft with passionate abandon. It was a primal act, a direct connection between our bodies, fueling the flames of our lust.

Just as I was lost in this exquisite sensation, her phone buzzed, disrupting our intimate moment. She glanced at the screen, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face, before answering it. "Hi Mom. Yes, I’m leaving now." Her voice was polite but distant, as if she were already mentally detached from our shared pleasure.

"I hope I gave you enough to dream about all day," she whispered, her eyes locking onto mine, a silent promise of more to come. Then, without another word, she rose and walked out, leaving me alone with my aching body and the lingering scent of her perfume.

I took a long, cold shower, letting the water wash away the remnants of our encounter, but the images and sensations remained vivid in my mind. My phone began to ping with messages, each one igniting a fresh wave of anticipation.

“Today starts our Twelve Days of Sexmas.” The message was from a mysterious admirer, a digital invitation to a week of intense pleasure.

“Fuck, I want to suck your cock and feel your hot cum sliding down my throat.” Another message, this one even more explicit, confirming my deepest desires.

“If I could have stayed, I would have bent over the dresser and watched in the mirror as you fucked me deep and hard with your big fucking cock.” The final message, a tantalizing glimpse into the pleasure I craved.

My cock was hard again, but I resisted the urge to masturbate, savoring the anticipation instead. I knew that this was just the beginning of a long, passionate journey.

As I left work, I received another text: "Sorry baby, but work is taking longer than I thought. I’m going to have to work all night, I’m afraid." My frustration mounted as I waited for her arrival.

“Meet me at our favorite restaurant in an hour we can have some quality time before I have to go back.” I replied, my voice laced with a hint of impatience.

WTF, which one? We have a few. But I chose the fanciest one, “Le Fleur,” overlooking the city skyline and a breathtaking view of the snow-covered mountains. As I approached, I spotted her sitting alone at our usual booth, a crimson rose resting on the table beside her.

I slid into the booth next to her, and we shared a passionate kiss, a silent acknowledgment of our mutual desire. Her hand moved instinctively to my thigh, sliding up and squeezing my cock through my pants, a playful tease that sent shivers down my spine. Then, she pulled back, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and said, "I have a surprise."

With swift efficiency, she unbuttoned my shirt and carefully pulled my erect member from my pants, revealing its full, throbbing glory. She began to stroke it with a gentle but insistent rhythm, her touch sending waves of pleasure through my body. It was a slow, deliberate act, designed to build anticipation and heighten the senses.

Just as our intimacy reached its peak, the waitress approached, her eyes lingering on the table above me, a subtle hint of suspicion in her gaze. She cleared her throat, attempting to regain my attention, but her gaze kept returning to my exposed member.

“What’s gotten into you?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, as the waitress finally turned and walked away.

“Hopefully your cock,” she replied, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “And keep it out for now, I’m not quite done with it yet.”

We continued to talk, the conversation meandering between playful banter and shared fantasies, while her hand remained firmly in place, caressing my balls and ensuring that I remained hard and responsive. The waitress returned with our drinks, glancing back at the table above my lap, a barely concealed expression of desire on her face. As my wife released my cock, and the waitress missed a crucial moment, my member began to swell, oozing pre-cum down my shaft. She then released me completely, sipped her wine, and placed her order and mine as well, a casual disregard for the simmering tension in the air.

"What's gotten into you," I said, as the waitress finally left us alone.

"Hopefully your cock. And keep it out for now, I’m not quite done with it yet."

We continued our conversation, her hand continuing to tease my body, making sure I remained right on the edge. The waitress returned a couple of times to check on us, but kept her eyes glued to the table above my lap. When she came back for our dessert order, my wife said, "We’ll take the check, please. I have all I need." She then slyly stroked my cock with my pre-cum, coating it in its viscous, golden essence.

The waitress said "Yes, ma’am," a genuine smile on her face, as she took our bill and walked away. As she turned her back, my wife lowered her head, took my cock in her mouth, and began to suck it with frantic intensity. I couldn't hold back as I exploded into her mouth, lost in the ecstasy of her embrace, while simultaneously gazing at the waitress’ back. Once she finished drinking all my cum, she sat up, carefully dabbed the corners of her sensuous mouth, and placed the bill on the table.

The waitress returned, a look of genuine disappointment crossing her face as she noticed both my wife’s hands on the table. The bill had her name and a heart on it, a silent testament to her dominance. My wife paid her with a generous tip, a final act of defiance and pleasure. As I tried to tuck my wet self back into my pants, I realized that my efforts were futile. Finally ready to go, we shared one last passionate kiss, the lingering taste of our shared pleasure still clinging to our lips.

“Tomorrow is Day 2, baby. I’ll see you in the morning,” she whispered, her eyes filled with anticipation.

As I watched her walk away, feeling the warmth of her memory linger in the air, I knew that this was just the beginning of our twelve days of sexmas. The rain continued to fall outside, but inside, we were lost in a world of passion, desire, and endless pleasure. The thought of the days to come filled me with a sense of excitement and anticipation, a thrilling prospect that left me breathless.

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