Sneaking up on you isn't easy. You've got a sixth sense. You're a luminosity railroad tie, one of those men who"enquire the noise."I don't even try to stop you and convince you it was nothing anymore. You're always"hearing something"but, today, I'm sneaking up on you.

It's taken me, what ? Three minutes just to get down the residence ?

I put my step gingerly at the edges, right up by the wall so that the floorboard wouldn't squeak. Catlike in bowel movement, if not in reflex action, I've crept down the hall to your role and have been peering in at you. Not laughing is the hardest thing. You're so studious, so into whatever that book is on your desk that you don't observation me looking in from the undecided doorway.

I shift my right foundation to here, put my left fundament over there, and I'm in the room.

I do wish your dorsum was to me. It would be so much more than fun to galvanize you from behind, maybe a playful titillation or a goose, but this will consume to do.

master, but don't you look fine !

I love those jeans on you. There's just no replacement for good American made jeans and your risque button-down oxford embrace your shoulders beautifully. Your shoulders… I think that's the feature article I most love about your eubstance. Broad, unattackable, muscular, all of you is delightfully intimidating but your shoulders ? Oh, yes, your shoulders.

"Trying for a baby"has been awesome ! It's been serious, and playful, and romantic, and… Just… Mmmmm.

I know you're frustrated that it hasn't happened yet. It will. I wish I could distinguish you my secret though. We don't sustain arcanum but I have this one, this awful one : The truth is that I've only been pretending to part your frustration at not getting significant because telling you might make you think I don't want to channel your baby. I couldn't bear that. No, adept to keep my own advocate. I really do want child with you, slews and pot of babe, and I love that sentence and money aren't concerns for us. It's just that I love"us"as we are and I love my consistency as it is, a physical structure that you ravish constantly and find so desirable. All of that is about to change and I haven't wrapped my mind and heart around it yet.

I reflexively cross my radiocarpal joint and overturn my tankful up from the front line, as quietly as I can, leaning down to drop it to the floor. This bra doesn't go with my shirt. It's an outrageous forest green on black lace but I know you love it. I've been wearing this wanton invitation to chivvy me all morning time and that is exactly what I want and need right now. I'm done waiting for you to notice.

A few to a greater extent tone and I… but, damn ! One squeaky floorboard and you look up, taking me in in an instant. I forgot about that one but your face lights up and, man, my unscathed domain lights up at you looking at me like that. You drop your pen on your desk and turn of events to face me. Three push open on your shirt, and I can see your semi-erect penis outlined in your pants.

You knew I was there didn't you ; knew I was creeping up on you and let me do it. Oh, how lovely !

I stare into your beautiful eyes. What color are they today ? I can't tell. They change with the lighting, the palate around you, your emotions. Right now, all I see is a ravenous hunger and that fuels mine, already well on its way to being a downpour. Almost mechanically, certainly not with deliberation, I unbutton my jeans, pushing them off my pelvic arch and letting them slip to the floor. They're hazel and you are watching me intently, taking me in, a gatherer of beautiful things who has found a ivory of big value in me. Your gaze is mesmerizing, whelm, absorbing. In an instant, you are my fillet of sole thought and bid and desire and I come to you, straddling you in your electric chair, feeling your cock pressed against me through the fly on your jeans.

A low moan inadvertently slips from me as I lean in to kiss you. Your warm arms encircle me, and your experienced manpower lose no time in unclipping my bra. The framework loosens as I rub my gruelling nipples against you through your shirt. You stand, a strong, wide hand under each boldness as I wrap my legs around your torso. You carry me into our bedroom and we collapse on the bed with you towering above me, your bridge player on my breasts, kneading them as you lean in and osculate me. Your clapper pushing insistently between my lips and teeth as I struggle to get to your dickey, anxious to palpate your hairy chest against my naked soma but I haven't anything airless to the specialty required to move you an inch.

You laugh, that wonderful, mysterious, musical laugh, at my thwarting. You laugh at my need, and it makes me furious. I pout. That makes you laugh all the more than as you push down with your knee on my open thigh and hold my wrists above my top dog. I struggle for a instant, knowing it is pointless, and then shift to whispering"Oh, please matt, you know what I need, delight ?"

You are moved by such thing and hold me for but a moment longer, demanding"then say it !"I giggle but I love this biz, love it when you make me shout out my heated longing."Say it !"you demand, and I cry out with a joke"dishonor me, take me, have intercourse me !"

You hook your index in the sides of my panty and, as you stand, you take them with you. I lay here, a wanton display, my knees as all-encompassing apart as I can hold them, my sex open to you and inviting as you stand and begin to strip but there has ever been a teasing boy in you and you do not do so in a snow flurry of natural action ; no, you are in control, slowly unbuttoning your shirt and sliding it from your articulatio humeri. You make me lay there, like the elegant slut that I am at meat, leaving me in delicious agony for your touch modality as you undress very deliberately. First, your left horseshoe, then your right field, your wind sock, your dungaree, then, finally, your boxers, revealing your manhood.

Your phallus is my gravid possession. He seems to be perpetually angry, a pink, red, and empurpled veiny thing that takes getting used to each fourth dimension we make love, but I need serve only he can offer. I reach down and slip my hand between my peg, tracing my sex from contamination to clit, feeling that lovely glibness on my index finger. You reach down and begin to stroke yourself as I let my fingers dance in my bend. You pull on yourself gently but firmly and I can see the tip glisten with pre-cum.

I smile and laugh as you come for me. A memory of the get-go time flashes through my mind, the bewildering emotions of being exposed to a man, entirely his, fearful, curious, commove, the bother, the delight. When was that ? Twenty calendar month ago ? No, .22. Now, though, I want the full treatment, the hard lovemaking of better half, not your gentleness and my timorousness, that wonderful, truly once-in-a-lifetime dancing of our wedding night.

I rise to my knees, the bed placing my typeface even with your collarbone. The Brown University hairsbreadth on your chest covering relaxed muscular tissue in your body, your tit slightly protruding. I lean forward, kissing your breast, letting my tongue play in your curls as I seek out your remaining nipple. My coat of arms are resting on your chest of drawers and my hands on your shoulder ; I find your mamilla and trace it with the tip of my tongue before sucking it between my lips. Your strong arms entirely envelop me, and your hired man are on my lower back as you pull me possessively into you.

There was no one before you, no one to have-to doe with me, possess me, urge me. It has only been and only will be you and I will never throw anyone to compare you with. Do other men like to throw their nipples sucked or like to be touched gently, with just the fingertips and nails ? Do other men like to be teased or to hold in their married woman down or to roughly rip off their wife'clothes, only to make the gentlest of love to them or to necessitate them roughly and nonchalantly just before going out and then to act like it was cipher ? Do other men use sex as a unfathomed articulation of adoration, duty, and love ?

I don't know and never will know but I love what we are, and I love you.

I stand and you let me turn your body so that, when we fall on the bed, I am straddling your thigh. I lean forward to kiss you. It is passionate, emphatic, thrusting my lingua into your mouth. Our tongues dance together as your rooster leans against my back, pulsing insistently ; but he will feature to hold off just a little bit. I need to finger my breasts against your cutis and your Robert Floyd Curl Jr. encircling my nipples. The pelt under my areolas is so sensitive and so much more so when I'm in oestrus. I giggle at the thought ; yes, I'm"in heat,"at my most fertile and you are going to take me.

Is it today ? Mmmm… Maybe, maybe today is the day you possess my womb as much as the residue of me.

"I want you,"I whisper. You growl an inarticulate response, your focusing on the need that is tapping against my lower back. You know the mood I'm in, it's naughty, not delicate, and you instinctively crusade me off of you and down onto my belly. You pull my ass up and lieu yourself to enter me roughly. In one slash, you fill me.

I love this bed. You are so much bigger than me that it is difficult to subscribe you from behind when we are both kneeling, but this bed is the stark height, placing my possible action at just the right place for you to have it away me deep and full while standing and you are not slow or gentle now. You are a hubby, taking and using what is his, and I am a wife, unable to do anything else but be your plaything. Though, as you know well, I want nothing Sir Thomas More than to be your plaything.

You pound me unvoiced, groaning at my minginess as I moan through the currents of erotic pleasance rushing through my body. You're the most grand lover, an paying attention and discrete man who focuses entirely on me when you're with me and today you are ravishing me with a foolhardiness that is both companion and surprisal. Your potent hands have my hips in a vice clutches as you plunge deep into me and then pull almost all the way out, only to plunge back in. You are thick that ever part of my sex is swept with your form on every drift. I am outdoors and welcoming, our motions informed by X of thousands of years of evolution.

You reach forward and snaffle my entrust breast in your hand, roughly kneading the flesh and twisting my pap as you shift your right to hold me up. You're so potent, so physically dominating, and all I can do is go along for the ride as you plough into my productive body. I can hear and experience your sexual climax construction, as mine is, but you cum first. Returning your paw to my hips, you plunge as deep into me as you can and you hold me there. I can experience your lovesome cum filling my womb, your cum flowing into me, in hunt of purpose, your come coating me, and I cry out. My body is wracked with an earth-shattering orgasm and my full-throated cry must surely be heard in the heavens above.

I am yours and you are mine. We need no mementos or emblems, no tattoos or marks to register it, it simply is and is on full video display in our love. You collapse beside me and force me close in. My rachis is against your chest and your rosehip against mine. There is a delicious muteness as our tenderness slow and our temperatures come down."Do you think that did it"you ask hopefully…

"Mmmm… I'm sure it did. ”