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Author's Note:
Best wishes to everyone's Sweet Valentine! Still finishing up some of my stories, but I thought of releasing this first. If you've got time, rate the story and feel free to share any of your plans this coming holiday, kinky or otherwise! Believe it or not, I'm in love with romance. I know it's ironic considering the type of stories I write, but I actually believe in love, and there's no better time to show how much you love someone than the capitalistic holiday otherwise known as Valentine's Day — except maybe any other day out of the other 365 we have this year
(LEAP YEAR, BABY).
So... have fun, and stay safe! Unless you want Scorpios like me.
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"Hey, have I been good lately?" I ask my wife. She turns to me, lying down on our bed, unruly strands of her jet-black hair resting on her cheeks. I can see the realization slowly settling on her eyes; why I was asking her the question.
"Yeah," she replies, placing her leg on top of mine as she leans on her side to face me. "You want to go on a date? It has been a while, huh?"
She pauses for a moment and asks, "Are... are you sure? It's February. I — I know we don't have any plans right now, but we could... do something else."
I chuckle at the sight of her, trying to tamp down her eagerness in consideration of me.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," I reply.
"So we're really doing this?"
I nod, sporting an expectant look on my face. She smiles. I can tell she's excited too, and that sweet, euphoric moment of
doubt
greets me like an old friend.
"Where do you want to go?" Julie asks, her long and dainty fingers tracing circles on my chest. Does it matter? I think to myself.
"I don't know. Anywhere. Do you have a place in mind?"
She thinks for a moment before answering me, "Oh, there's that amazing Japanese place down Central Plaza. We could go there for dinner, maybe."
I kiss her forehead. "Sounds amazing. Should we head out, say, 7:00 in the evening?"
Julie squints her eyes. "How many hours are you giving me to... prepare?"
My cock twitches just at the thought. Maybe I shouldn't have worn my soft pajamas for bed.
"Two?" I say, nervously gauging her reaction closely from the corner of my eyes.
"Three," Julie negotiates with a grin.
"Deal."
"Great. You'll call him, and ask permission?" she asks me, but the answer's clear. Julie asks mostly to be polite. "Yeah. I'll do it tonight," I tell her. She kisses me on the cheeks. "Good night, baby."
I call him, and the conversation goes as smoothly as usual. It's weird. I always expect some sort of resistance, but there's never any. Which I suppose is a good thing, considering I'm about to faint out of excitement and intimidation at the same time. These calls never get old.
After a few minutes of setting up the details, I hang up the phone, climb through my wife's blanket, and close my eyes.
Unnervingly hearing my blood as they course through my veins, I sigh in exasperation. If I'm lucky, I'll catch about three hours of rest tonight.
Lucky me.
_____________________________________
I wake up with the sun harshly greeting my eyes. My wife is gone. In the past, I would've made an emotional fuss over it — or worry for her safety, at least. I know better now.
The so-called
preparation
always needs its own assembly. That's basically a rule at this point. I used to help Julie get all dolled up, but when she found out
he
prefers it done at his house, I never got the chance again.
I walk downstairs to find plain breakfast prepared in the microwave — an easy, reheated ready-to-eat box. Back then, she used to take extra care of me in the morning for our date nights. Eggs, bacon, the whole works. The room would smell of amazing dishes I've never even heard of. Mixed with the vanilla-scented cologne she'd been using for the past ten years — ever since I told her I loved it.
Now that we've settled onto this new normal, she puts that extra effort somewhere else. She claims not to, of course, but I know better than to believe the pretty words that come out of those equally pretty lips.
Still, Julie always manages to leave these cute little notes in the refrigerator for me. As usual, as I scan through the sea of fridge magnets and bills for the familiar yellow paper, I smile. On the top corner, hilariously holding up only because of a fridge magnet despite being a sticky note, I read the words, " Love you, honey. Good luck at work today!"
These messages always make my day no matter what. I pull the note off the fridge to stick it in between my book of recollection— the hardbound binder I keep for our memories together, which has now become a shrine specifically for our date nights.
I had to use glue because the note refuses to adhere to the pages, though.
Heeding my wife's sweet words and keeping them inside my heart, I take off for work.
It turned out to be a busy day, and I should've been exhausted at the end of my shift, but unsurprisingly I wasn't. The entire day, my mind wandered to the thought of my beautiful wife waiting for me; how excited I was for our date.
Driving back home with the same purehearted intent to see her as in our prime days, I spot a flower shop with yellow daffodils just outside the sidewalk. I pause. Julie absolutely adores them beyond passion.
When we walked down the aisle, daffodils were her chosen flowers. They were beautifully incorporated in the archways leading up to the altar. When a flower had accidentally fallen off during our ceremony, I grabbed it from the floor without thinking and tucked it behind her cute ear.
Until now I still think about that moment.
I park the car as close as possible and enter the uniquely decorated shop. The woman behind the counter asks me if I need help, so I tell her about my date with Julie — and how much daffodils mean to us.
"You're in luck. We've just had a fresh batch of yellow daffodils come in if you're interested, sir."
"I'll take a bouquet."
Nodding her head, the woman then prepares for a handful. I search the shop for anything else Julie might like, but I'm afraid I need to turn this place around before I can find something she
doesn't
like.
Julie's been a flower girl ever since we were kids. Until now, I have yet to see anyone who loved fairy tales as much as she does. She used to tell me I was her Prince Charming.
After a minute, the receptionist hands me the furnished bouquet and smiles. "She's lucky to have you, sir. I'm sure your wife will love it."
I smile back at her before heading back to the car and driving away.
Julie. My sweet Julie.
Chills run down my spine at the thought of seeing her. I'm only a few blocks away from our house — our
home
now. Julie should be inside waiting for me. Along with the darker part of our fairy tale.
Seeing the expected car on our veranda, I park a few houses away before skipping to the house. Sounds of passion become louder as I approach the front door. The lock is open. I enter with the flowers in my hand.
And there she is — in all of her glory. My hot wife, on her fours, crying out in pleasure while another man fucks her just the way she likes it.
"We-welcome home, baby!" she manages to greet me by the door as her hands grip at the couch for dear life. I hide the bouquet of flowers behind my back. They already started, huh? In the past, they never began without me. Of course, a lot of things have changed since then.
Admiration fills my wife's eyes. Though, it isn't directed to me as much as it is directed to the man currently driving his cock mercilessly on her pussy from behind.
Like he had suddenly hit a super sweet spot, Julie loses focus on me and squeals, "Oh, my Goood!
Jack
, oh — Ooh,
Daddy
! Fuck me! Fuck me harder with that big COOoooOCK — !"
Before the last word could properly come out of her mouth, Jack reaches his hand out and holds her by the chin. He then turns her head to face me — a gesture I usually find myself grateful for. Otherwise, my wife wouldn't look at me all night.
Unfortunately, even then, my lonely figure hardly registers in her immaculately reflecting cock-crazed eyes.
