Wet Embrace: A Sweetie's Plea

The hotel room was a humid, luxurious sanctuary, still radiating the lingering heat of a recent, intense shower. Steam clung to the walls, clinging to the plush velvet of the king-sized bed where my Sweetie lay sprawled, one arm draped languidly over her back. She was relaxed, utterly spent, the aftermath of a particularly satisfying encounter still clinging to her. The scent of lavender and musk hung heavy in the air, a testament to the passion we’d shared. I felt a primal surge of desire as I registered the slight sag in her form, the vulnerability in her posture. It was a reminder of how precious these moments were, stolen moments amidst the demands of her work overseas, and I knew I had to savor every second.

The massive tub, situated between the bathroom and bedroom, was filled with bubbles, remnants of her soak. The doors folded back, offering a panoramic view of the bedroom, a space designed for comfort and intimacy. I pulled on one of the thick, white terry cloth bathrobes, wrapping myself in its softness, and settled onto the bed as she reclined in the warm, fragrant water. The anticipation, the lingering heat, was almost unbearable. I needed to release some of this pent-up energy, to find a way to truly connect with her, to remind myself just how deeply I desired her.

After a few minutes of simply existing in the heat, she shifted slightly, her eyes meeting mine across the room. “How’s the Big Guy doing?” she murmured, a playful lilt in her voice. It was a question that always stirred something deep within me, a challenge to maintain control, to not let the pleasure overwhelm. I rolled off the bed, my muscles tensing, and approached her, my own arousal already building. As I faced her, I deliberately lowered the robe, revealing the full force of my desire, a magnificent red erection that pulsed with insistent energy. “Tell me how you think I’m doing,” I said, my voice low and husky, letting her know exactly what was on my mind.

Her eyes widened slightly, a slow smile spreading across her face as she took in my offering. “Mmm, he looks delicious! Why don’t you come over here and rub him so I can watch and make sure you don’t lose interest,” she suggested, her voice laced with invitation. The thought of her hands on me, exploring every inch of my body, sent shivers down my spine. Fat chance, I thought, but I knew it was a test, a way for her to gauge my readiness. I stood there, letting her take in the sight of my magnificent member, the veins darkening with blood, the head swollen and ready. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

I reached for the nightstand, retrieving a generous amount of silky smooth lubricant. With deliberate slowness, I dripped it onto my member, coating it in a slick layer of pleasure. Then, with a deep breath, I began to stroke it, slowly, deliberately, teasing her senses. I lowered myself closer to the tub, positioning myself directly in front of her, letting her watch every inch of my body. It was a power play, a display of my desire, but also an invitation to join me in this shared experience. I loved showing her how much I adored her, letting her know that she was the object of my every thought and every impulse. The sheer size of my member, a monument to my passion, served as a constant reminder of the pleasure awaiting her.

“What do you think of my Little Friend?” I asked her, my voice a low rumble, as I continued to stroke my member, offering it for her inspection. The head was in full flower, vibrant red, with clear, warm fluid seeping out as I squeezed the base of me, eager to show her the depths of my pleasure. “Hand me my robe so I can dry off and we can continue this discussion,” she said, rising from the tub, her movements graceful and confident. I offered to assist, but she waved me off with a gentle touch. “You just sit yourself on the couch and be patient,” she instructed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Three months of celibacy had left me desperate for release, longing for the touch of my Sweetie, the heat of her skin against mine. The thought of her filled me with a renewed sense of urgency, a burning desire to lose myself in her embrace. With great self-control, I sauntered over to the plush velvet couch, taking my place beside her, but I wasn’t giving up on my quest. Ahrrgg. I didn't think Blackbeard had to be patient. The anticipation gnawed at me, a constant reminder of the pleasure that awaited us.

After she dried off, she made her way over to me, a slow, deliberate movement that heightened my arousal. She reached up and pulled down the strap of her short, lace nightie, letting it fall open, revealing glimpses of her smooth, tanned skin. Standing before me, she raised the nightie slightly, just enough to tease my senses, and placed one knee on the couch, followed by the other, straddling me with a playful grace. Leaning forward, she offered a demure smile as she reached down between our legs, using two fingers spread in a “V” to direct my stiff, straining member towards her soft folds. She wiggled me back and forth, gently lowering herself onto me, her weight a tantalizing invitation. I placed my hands softly at her waist, a silent expression of my appreciation for her touch, for her control, for her pleasure.

She eased down to about half my length before pausing to adjust herself with a delicious wiggle of those beautiful hips. Lifting slightly, she let out a soft moan, a sound that sent shivers down my spine, as she resumed her descent, taking all that I had to give her, and all that she could give to me. My hands moved over her hips, down to her wonderfully round bottom, tracing every curve, every contour, savoring the feel of her skin against mine. I cupped her cheeks in my hands firmly pulling her towards me so that the inside of her understood just how large my appreciation was for her. A moan escaped both of us as we found what we wanted in each other, a conspiratorial smile spreading across her face as she leaned close to ask me, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Take any guy in the world and have a beautiful woman willingly take his full measure into her with a smile as if he is the biggest stud in the whole world, then ask him if there is anything else she can do for him? We've done this hundreds of times, and each time my answer is the same. “I’ve got everything I need in my hands,” I said to her, my voice filled with a raw, primal desire.

She looked at me, her smile filled with a mixture of amusement and anticipation, “Take out one of your breasts and give it to me so that I can run my tongue around your nipple.” Her right hand reached across her left shoulder and pushed the strap of her nightgown down. She cupped her left breast and presented it to me, an offering of pure, unadulterated pleasure. I took the offer, gently circling it several times before taking it fully in my mouth. The soft, warm flesh, the delicate scent, the sheer sensation of it against my tongue – it was an experience beyond compare. I confess, if I lived to be a hundred and was able to make love to this woman on a regular basis for that entire time, I still would not have had enough of her breasts and tight little nipples.

When we were younger, there were many occasions when we (or most likely me) hurried through as though the end was what was desired. Now, on this occasion, we sat solidly and softly wedded together, talking softly, savoring the heat within us.

I whisper into her ear, “I remember the time I slipped into the ladies room at the campground while you were taking a shower. I was so hard and horny for you. I stripped and came at you from behind putting your hands up on the wall while I just took you.” “I love being surprised by your cock,” she purrs, her voice husky and filled with pleasure. To show her pleasure, her hot moist interior contracts around my swollen knob. After suckling her one breast for a time, I hunger for more. I reach up to slide the right strap down, and the top falls exposing the rest of her. I take both of her breasts in my hands and run my tongue over one nipple and then the other. I want more. I press them together, nipples inches apart so that my tongue circles one and darts quickly to the other around and around. My throbbing mast pulses and lets her know how I feel. She purrs and squeezes back in a most exquisite embrace.

She looks at me and her smile gives way to a hungry look, “I love how when you’re in me and I think that he’s as big as it gets, then he swells some more and I feel him leaking a little.” As I’ve said before, that’s as good as it gets. We sat for an hour or more naked on that couch, gently rocking, talking quietly, toying with each other, savoring the heat within us. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of us, lost in a blissful, passionate embrace, our bodies intertwined, our souls connected. The memory of the shower, the lingering steam, the shared pleasure – it all faded into the background, replaced by the overwhelming desire that burned within us, a desire that promised to continue long after we left this room, long after the heat subsided, long after the world moved on. This was our sanctuary, our haven, our place of ultimate pleasure, and in this moment, there was nothing more that either of us could ever want.

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Wet Embrace: A Sweetie's Plea

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