The following is a work of fiction. It is a fantasy of how I would like one lovely night in Hedonism to occur, assuming Mrs. AP and I could ever get there with the two boyfriends with whom we got along best. It contains graphic details of consensual congress between three bisexual men and one woman between in a public setting. If that suits your fancy, please come join the ride.
It was a rare night in the AbsinthePassion household; all the children were in bed and asleep before Mrs. AP and I. Considering all three of them fluctuate between day dwellers and vampires, we were exhaustedly excited to be able to get some sleep. We were also excited to be able to celebrate my birthday right as it started, shortly after midnight.
After securing the little one in her own bed elsewhere in our room, Mrs. AP and I took our nightly “help us stay asleep” meds that alleviate pain and introduce a nice lovely floaty feeling as we drift off. We have discovered a delicious other side effect of the meds is that they help us relax into and enjoy sexual matters more deeply, which I greatly appreciated when Mrs. AP reached over and started teasing her fingers up and down my chest and sides. I wiggled and giggled and moaned lightly under the masterful touch of her divine ministrations — she always knows how to hit all the right spots to render me helpless to her spell. Her touch became more focused, more insistent, and the moans grew stronger in reflection. Fingered dipped below my waist and teased hips, stroking across a pubic mound and sliding in that open space between abdomen and throbbing manhood. A light gasp of anticipation escaped my lips, which Mrs. AP notably pondered before rotating her wrist and wrapping her hand gently around my throbbing, dripping cock.
For roughly the last six hours today, while struggling through work, I have found myself craving the taste of Mrs. AP under my tongue. I love trailing my lips across her skin, exploring her lips and her neck, meandering down to her luscious breasts and erect nipples, The feeling of her nipples hardening, puckering, rising underneath my tongue and against my lips is one of the divine pleasures of being able to explore the fantastic curves of my wife’s body. Right now, though, in particular, I yearn for something very specific.
I long for running my tongue and trailing my lips down from the soft, pouty lips of Mrs. AP, caressing down her delectable neck, and into the glorious cleft of her cleavage. Downward still, strolling my tongue across the beauty of her stomach and teasing over the rise and fall of her sensuous mons pubis before spiraling slowly inward and down until my lips and tongue nestle into the perfect placement between her long, lean legs.
Oh, but to dip my tongue between her lips and gently coax them wide. Her heat, her scent, dancing across my taste buds to encourage deeper, more forceful explorations. Flattening my tongue, pressing, entering, to be greeted by the sweet taste of my beloved’s arousal. Sweet!, but not in a honey way, or even vanilla and strawberry, like most people like to use for descriptors of sexual juices. She’s more primal and raw, like what would happen if the forest and panthers and hibiscus and orchid and pomegranate and the nectar from lilies could all be blended together and then coaxed forth from within her. This! This is for what I long, and crave, and cannot shake from my mind for hours upon end today!
Oh, but I shall be home soon, and then, for all that is good and naked and wonderful in this world, will I close and lock my door, and strip my gorgeous wife bare, and explore her every twitch and tremble with my tongue until her sweet, subtle nectar becomes a flood upon my tongue and across my cheeks, and she gasps my name and grips the sheets and loses herself into the bliss of erotic release, and then! Oh, but then I will still be thirsty, and will have to drink of her some more until her crescendo repeats, again and again, until she can bear no more and must both push me away and pull me upward so that more than my tongue will slide between that velvety lips.
Soon. Soon. For my daydreams are vivid, and my need is pressing, and the memory of the taste of my wife is … sweet.
Stay SINful, friends.
Tonight is my thirteenth night away from home, which also makes it my thirteenth night away from Mrs. AP. Except for that one bad stint in the hospital last year, this is the longest she and I have been unable to sleep beside each other since February, 2010. When I left for this current business trip we thought I would only be gone nine nights. Obviously that has changed. Delays for the job led to delays coming home. There’s been naught I can do about that, no matter how lonely the bed feels when I’m the only occupant.
The night before I left was also the end of our first full day home after evacuating from Hurricane Matthew — we live on the coast now, which made us a rather high target zone — and we’d had no time or privacy in which to engage in any amorous bonding while we were dodging the storm. The friends who took us in are wonderful, but we couldn’t exactly ask them if we could borrow their room and their bed for some spousal alone time. Etiquette is a real party spoiler sometimes. But hey, no damage to the house, and we saw good friends we’d missed, so I guess that’s the silver lining there, right?
Regardless, knowing I was going to be leaving and knowing we hadn’t been able to play when we’d wanted to for far too many days, even while exhausted, while Mrs. AP and I were cuddling very late into the night, and once I heard our youngest finally settle down for the night I, started caressing Mrs. AP’s delectable body in that way that very clearly broadcasts that I’d like to do more than caress.
I teased her breasts and her nipples, letting the edges of my palms just brush the edges of her areolas, and our mouths explored each other. Her tongue darted against my lips, seeking, imploring entrance, which was granted eagerly. As our tongues danced to the rhythm of our needs my hands grew more insistent, cupping her nipples and her breasts and squeezing. Gently at first, and then more firmly, my hand pulsed in time with our lips and tongues. My efforts were rewarded with her luscious nipples hardening under my ministrations, becoming firm and puckered in that way that begs for attention. With a gentle squeeze I obliged, but only momentarily before sliding my hand down her silky smooth skin and across the valley of her pubic mound before dipping between the folds of her perfection. As my middle finger slipped between her lips, it was greeted with a warm, wet welcome. The body of my wife, my lover, my beloved was entreating me to enter her. How could I decline such an enthusiastic invitation?
I came home from work with one of the most debilitating migraines I’ve had in ages. I fought through traffic and held it at bay, but by the time I walked up the stairs and through the front door Mrs. AP was able take one look at me and firmly say “I love you, go lay down in the dark.” Knowing better than to ever argue with her when she uses her Domme voice, I kissed her and made my room to comply. As I lay there trying to hide all light and sound from obliterating me into millions of pieces Mrs. AP came in and softly asked how I could help. My whimpers must have translated into something because she left the room to come back a few minutes later with Excedrin and a cold coffee blend of the various pre-made flavored coffees we keep in the fridge. She disappeared again, leaving me in silence.
On her next return she came bearing food; perfect wife that she is, she made dinner and handled the kids while I lay in the room trying not to feel like death had become me. Dutifully I ate, thankful for the mix of spices and savory elements she combined to hit every flavor element I so love. Once I finished eating I lay the plate back down and rested, eyes closed, hoping for relief.
When Mrs. AP came back in she asked if there was anything else she could do to help. I whimpered some more, to which she responded by laying next to me and cradling me, caressing my head and letting her hand wander further down my body. As she slipped a hand inside my pants she asked if there was *anything* she could do to help, and my cock rose in response. Feeling how eager my cock was to greet her Mrs. AP whispered mischievously “feels like I know just the thing.” She got up to lock the door, stripping as she rose, and in my pained stupor I somehow managed to strip so that by the time she turned around I was ready, waiting for her.
Red spent the weekend over for his Birthday, and he’d been joking since the week prior that one of the things he wanted for his birthday was another threesome with Mrs. AP and me — it had been some time since our last one — and as the week went by my mind kept turning more and more to both how much I love watching Mrs. AP when we have another man in our bed and also how much I miss sliding my lips down a nice hard cock and how Red has repeatedly said he needs to be “not so sober” for that to happen.
Lo and behold, during dinner Red availed himself of some recently acquired Sake to become very quickly inebriated. Aloud, my jokes and innuendos about him joining us became more obvious (to me, at least) while internally I started wondering how he’d taste, if he’d rise to the occasion, etc.. After all, I know I can be persuasive once my lips are on somebody, but I’d need his full consent for that and even drunk he might not grant that. Still, I wondered, and open flirted, and hinted, and only kept some outright comments to myself because the children were still awake and there are some invitations they just don’t need to hear. We carried on for roughly 30 minutes with our back and forth bantering and flirting until suddenly!… Red declared himself drunkenly exhausted and stumbled off to bed to sleep for 8 hours.
As I later told Mrs. AP while we were lying in bed, I was a little butt-hurt, but it was of my own making. I’d not been clear enough in my invitation, and expecting somebody else to properly interpret flirting and innuendo — particularly in an inebriated state — is unfair. It’s also not like I’ve forever ruined our chances of having another man, or specifically Red, join us in bed; he’s over all the time, plus we’re more actively looking for another lover. Just because I wasn’t able to satisfy my threesome craving right then and there doesn’t mean I won’t be able to scratch that itch later. Until then, there are plenty of other ways to meet needs, and Mrs. AP and I had some other needs that were needing met. Our talk faded into soft kisses, which slowly grew more bold and intense until our lips risked bruising from our passion. We shifted, one our sides and pressed together, so that my hand could slide down between Mrs. AP’s open legs, where I found her freshly shaven, hot, wet, and ready for me.
The following story is a work of erotic fiction; a fantasy inspired from my younger, more timid days. Feel free to skip it if such things do not appeal to your sensibilities.