My work takes me away from home more than I’d like. A couple of times a year these travels take me to some of the nicer cities in Europe. The days involve hard negotiations while trying to fit into local cultures. Drinks, dinner and socializing seal the deal.
I look forward to coming home days in advance of the actual return. I miss the warmth of your body next to mine from the first to the last night. I imagine the welcome I’m going to get when I get home. In fact I spend a good amount of that eleven-hour Heathrow to LAX flight working through the possible welcomings. In the end, though, I always go back to my favorite coupling, so it’s not surprising that when I get home I’m wiped-out but very worked up and only one thing is more important than sleep.
I always stumble off to bed at eight or nine pm since its four or five am European time. You arrive in bed at a normal time for adults several hours later and slowly begin to wake me. As I lay on my side facing away from you, you begin rubbing your hand up and down my back, up to my shoulders and down over my naked ass. My arms and legs are the next to receive your attentions but I don’t begin to stir until your hand is rubbing my chest and giving my nipples attention. Slowly coming into consciousness I roll to my left onto my back making it easier for you to reach another area that’s stirring. Your ministrations achieve the desired result - what you hold is soft and smooth on the outside but rock solid underneath.
You don’t waste any time. You climb aboard, impaling yourself on my ready cock, and besides letting me suck on your luscious tits a little, you are simply going to ride that cock hard and ride it fast. This is not about slow drawn out passion. This is about pent-up need and being close to the edge. As I watch your lusty face, your eyes have a glassy far away look as they stare at the wrought-iron headboard and the wall beyond without seeing any of it. They slowly shut in concentration as you tilt your head toward the ceiling in a slight circular motion. My eyes are drawn to the beautiful curves starting with your breasts up and over your collarbones to the beginnings of your neck continuing up to where your graceful throat gives way to the roots of your curly shoulder-length hair that is sweeping around following the motion of your head.
Your tempo becomes more urgent, and your tits are bouncing fiercely until you squeeze your arms in to control them by forcing them together. You rise and plunge hard a dozen or so times until you begin to cum. As the orgasm overwhelms you, the plunging stops. You jam your pelvis as far forward as possible and grind your clit back and forth quickly against the base of my cock. Your soft whimpers aimed toward the ceiling reach my ears as you shudder harder than usual. At same time I hear the wet sound of my cock engulfed in your pussy and our pubic hairs being mashed into each other. Your sweet impassioned womanly smell engulfs me. The long week along with the sights, sounds and aroma of the sexiest woman on earth shaking uncontrollably in pleasure is more than I can take. I shoot shot after pent-up, gravity-defying shot of cum into that already soaking pussy. You can’t hold my load forever and make sure you allow a good amount of leakage before standing up. Then it is time to collapse and for you to go to sleep in my arms – completely satisfied. It will be our first decent sleep for over a week.
As events turned out on my most recent trip home, not only didn’t I get my preferred welcome home, I didn’t get any romantic attention. . . but that didn’t stop your passion from waking me up. Confused? The method of being awoken was the only surprising thing, but we’ll get to that in a minute. Only a terrible cold could have kept you away from me, so bad timing on your cold for the both of us. When you come to bed at 10pm, you only have energy enough to throw my arms off your side of the bed. You don’t throw yourself on me. You climb into bed, but you don’t mount the present that arrived after the arm tossing awoke me. You are going to sleep. I was still exhausted, but it was hard to get back to sleep with my enlarged condition.
No sooner had I fallen asleep than some noises woke me up. What the hell? It was you moaning. You woke me up. Ok, I’d actually gotten a few hours sleep, it was about 1am, but you never wake me up. You said you were sick earlier in the evening, but these are not moans of suffering. Oh no, these are most definitely moans of passion.
Pleasure moans. What is going on? Do you have a hand between your legs? No. You are motionless except for your breathing, which is a little shallower than typical when you’re sleeping, so you must be dreaming. What are you dreaming? It could be just about anything involving lovemaking. Were you reading a trashy book overflowing with graphic sex? Hormones overcoming your cold once you fell asleep? Are you dreaming of me or someone else?
