My feet curled. My back arched. I gave a low guttural cry as I orgasmed. I felt that wonderful warm blush on my cheeks and breasts. I twisted the dildo inside me, pressing it against the roof of my vagina, squeezing on it. Another orgasm ripped through me, and I bet my lips to keep from crying out. I pulled the drenched fake penis from me and brought it to my lips. I inhaled the scent of my own cum, and licked it, tasting my juices from the hard rubber, remembering how I’d done the same to my husband’s cum-covered flesh relishing in our combined flavors from his so masculine flesh.
Suddenly, it was James’ cock, dripping with his cum and mine, and I was sucking it eagerly, hungrily. I recoiled from the thought.
In an agony of guilt and shame, I put the dildo back into the drawer, and lay back. I felt my cum juices dribbling down my thighs. There was a large wet spot on the sheet under me. I lay awake, I don’t know how long, finally falling into an uneasy sleep.
I heard a voice. Sleep wouldn’t release me. I must have been dreaming. Someone was calling me, gently shaking my shoulder. I shifted, and my buttocks felt the warm damp spot beneath them. In a semi-dream state, my eyes parted. A familiar face was near mine, but sleep and some deep desire blurred my vision.
“Honey,” I whispered. “I had a terrible dream.”
“Wake up,” the voice was soft but urgent. “You’ve been moaning for hours. Wake up.”
“Nightmares,” I mumbled. “Terrible dreams. So alone. So cold.”
“Because you’ve kicked all the covers off.”
I felt the sheets being pulled over me. Vaguely I remembered I was nude.
“Hold me,” I whispered.
I closed my eyes and waited for the embrace. “Please,” I said, reaching out. “Hold me, baby. I’m so cold.”
Strong arms encircled me and held me tight. His broad chest was against me, warm and strong. I rested my cheek on his shoulder. His hands moved slowly over my back. His touch was light and comforting. I let him hold me, smelling his flesh; clean with a hint of soap. The stubble on his chin and cheek felt scratchily familiar. It was late of course. He hadn’t shaved. I wondered what time it was. Soon, he’d have to get ready for the office. I stretched, shifting in his arms. My lips sought his. I’d send him to work happy.
Eyes closed, my lips found his. He stiffened, almost resisting. Then his lips parted, and our tongues met. I moaned as we kissed. It had been so long, so very long. My hands clasped the back of his head. His short-cropped hair was soft. His lips were warm and moist. His tongue danced with entwining, parting, slipping from his mouth to mine, and mine. I nibbled his lower lip gently with my teeth.
A hand cupped my bare breast. A thumb touched my nipple. The fleshy circle tightened. The nib stiffened almost immediately. Tingles radiated outward, downward through me. I felt damp warmth between my thighs. His palm covered my breast, his fingers closing over the firm globe pulling softly yet urgently.
His other hand slid down my naked back, through the dip of my waist, and over the swell of my buttocks. His middle finger rubbed through the crevice of my ass. I murmured intelligibly. My head lolled back, and his gentle kisses went up and down my throat.
“Oh yes, my darling,” I whimpered. “Oh yes. It’s been so long.”
His voice was husky. “You are so beautiful.”
