We will once again have a Democrat in the White House when President-elect ShaeLynn Samuels is inaugurated later this month. I’ve worked closely with her in the Senate over the past several years. While I’ll miss her there, she’s definitely the best choice for president. I’m hopeful her VP, Congressman Elliot Woodley, will go on to run for the office, too, after Shae’s two terms end.
Sixteen continual years of Democrat control of the Oval Office—if we can hold on to the Senate and House—will help us rebuild so many critical policies, infrastructure systems, and social safety nets our country desperately needs.
I reach over and drop my cufflinks on the dresser before I start to slide my jacket off. From the quickening of the rise and fall of Daniel’s chest, I know he’s listening to every sound.
His hearing is spooky-good.
I use that to my advantage.
I know he’s listening to the rustle of fabric, the way the air shifts and moves and makes every sound change. Draping my jacket over the nearby chair, I slowly start to roll my cuffs up to my elbows as I watch him.
This dance we do never gets old. In this moment, my cock’s as hard as it was ten years ago on our wedding night. The only difference now is that sometimes my forty-six-year-old body doesn’t want to fully cooperate—especially if we try for more than once—whereas in our early days we fucked several times a day like horny teenagers.
Sometimes, we still do, if the stars align.
I leave my tie on, my collar buttoned. He prefers that, and I can’t resist giving my boy every- and anything he desires. Call me old-fashioned, but I like spoiling him and keeping him happy.
Doesn’t mean I won’t redden his ass when I want to, or when he feels he’s failed me and he needs it.
What he considers failures rarely cross my radar as infractions, but just as it’s in my nature to need to dominate and subdue him, it’s in his nature to atone and submit.
Everyone’s a winner.
I stand directly in front of him, the tips of my loafers barely touching his hands, and gently nudge.
Faster than I can follow the movement, he cups his hands around the backs of my ankles and kisses the tops of my shoes. From there, he slips off my left shoe and sock, then the right, sets them aside, and scoots forward a little so he can press his forehead against the tops of my feet, his hands once again cupping my ankles.
We both deeply inhale, hold it, and slowly breathe out. This little ritual developed accidentally and organically and is one we both love. It helps connect and center us, grounding us to each other and the moment, shutting out all other intrusive thoughts and distractions.
Well, mostly. Sometimes, my mind can’t help reaching for old memories.
Which I then viciously squash to preserve my sanity and peace of mind.
In my briefs, my cock’s aching and probably already leaving a wet spot. My boy does that to me, even this many years later.
Only one other man has ever had this effect on me. Even though Daniel told me in all seriousness that my ghost can be my hall-pass fuck, I could never imagine being with anyone else now.
Besides, how do you even try to fuck a ghost? Especially when you have a beautiful, perfect man such as this bowing at your feet?
