Right now, at least, it’s the opposite for me. The idea of home, where my wife is, doesn’t weigh on me at all. It pulls me.
I finish my drink, leave cash on the bar, and let the thought of her pull me all the way home. I smile like a goofy when I see her car in the garage. There’s a little pep in my step when I enter the house, especially when the smell of dinner hits me.
I can’t place the meal, but I know garlic and onion when I smell them. I toe my shoes off, drop my keys on the hall table, and make my way to the kitchen where my wife stands at the stove in a grey t-shirt and nothing else, her back to me, her hair piled on top of her head. She’s swaying a little as she stirs, completely at ease in my space.
I remember the first time she cooked for me. It was only the second or third time we’d met up, and I remember being slightly disturbed by how comfortable she was in my home. She laid claim to my shit early on and never really left. Even when she wasn’t physically here, she was present.
“Hey, baby. I’m home,” I say softly so I don’t scare her.
She turns slightly, smiling. “Hey, you. Dinner in thirty.”
I shrug, but she doesn’t see it. Even though I’m hungry, food can wait. There’s something more pressing for me than whatever’s simmering in that pot. I watch her, waiting for mymoment, and as soon as she puts the lid on the pot and turns the dial down low, I make my move.
I slide in behind her, close enough to feel her warmth and smell her skin. A light kiss to the side of her neck, then a gentle suck. I feel her breathe in. I feel her head tilt. I hear a soft sound leave her, shivering when it moves straight through me.
I follow her lead, breathing deep as my blood rushes violently.
The brick in my slacks presses against the top of her ass. My hands move to her waist. After one deliberate nudge with my pelvis, just to say hi, I turn her around to face me, warmed by the fire smoldering in her eyes.
I pray she never stops looking at me like this.
My eyes drift shut when our lips touch. Hers are warm and pillowy soft, but they stand up tough against my aggressive kisses, opening wide when I thrust my tongue inside her mouth.
Whatever this is, I’ve been holding it in all day. My body is ready to unleash it all, and I know my wife can take it. She always does. She’s taking my kisses, my hands pawing her, squeezing her, pulling her close, pressing her body against mine until I feel the air rush out of her.
She never tells me no.
Her hands grip my shirt, then drop to my belt. She fumbles with the buckle while I walk her backwards toward the table.
My tongue swirls around her mouth, dancing against hers. The jangling of my belt reaches my ears over the static in my brain. Now she has her hand in my underwear. I groan when her fingers brush my dick, and I honestly,trulywanna break her in half right now. But I keep the beast at bay. Instead, I break the kiss and grab the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the side.
I take a small step back so I can see the body I claimed as mine. I stare at my breasts, my nipples, my curvy waist and fleshyhips. Strong thighs. Pretty toes painted pink. All mine. Every last fucking inch.
Now that I've seen, I must feel. I push her hand away and pull my dick out. I ain’t trying to be rude, it’s just that I can’t wait much longer. She knows me, so she turns, places her hands on the table, and rearranges her body, transforming into exactly what I need at this particular moment in time.
She’s bent perfectly. Arched expertly. But I drop to my knees, because before I get what I need, I have to give her whatsheneeds. That’s how this marriage thing works, after all.
After I snatch them panties down, I stare. The view is amazing from where I am, but it doesn’t satisfy me. I grab her, roughly I think, spreading her cheeks until I see exactly what I’m looking for. My mouth waters at the sight of her little bud, but I’ll get to that in a minute. First, I lick her inner thighs, lapping up every drop of her essence. She always leaks like this for me. Then, I lick my way up her crack until I get to her ass hole. I tongue kiss that little motherfucker, because there ain’t a single inch of my wife that’s off limits to me. I ain’t scared of none of it. And I don’t stop until her voice cracks and her knees start to buckle.
Time to bring it home.
My nose replaces my tongue, which moves to her clit and massages her exactly how I know she likes it. I moan with her—she likes that, too—and lick and suck until her body goes stiff. As soon as she screams, I get up and slide inside her so I can feel for myself how hard she came. I don’t even move, I just experience it, all the pulses and flutters and contractions.Jesus.
God did His big one when he invented this shit.
“Fuuuuck,” she whines.
Mm hm. I’m moving now. Stroking my pussy. I don’t even ask no more, because I don’t have to; I know this water tight, ocean wet pussy is mine. And because my wife loves me, she gives it tome whenever the fuck I want it, and she takes my dick no matter how I give it.
I’m so fucking lucky.
I suppose my luck ran out last night, though. I hate that it popped into my head at this amazing moment, but I guess it’s related. The one time she told me no. The one thing she won’t give me, at least right now.
Funny thing is, I don’t even want it that bad in the practical sense. I can wait for a baby. That’s not a problem. I just don’t like knowing I can have her pussy but not her womb.
I sound like a caveman.
“I love you,” I murmur, because maybe that’ll get that shit out my head. But it’s too late. It’s embedded in my brain.
