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?
Mrs. AP pounced me as soon as I walked into the bedroom. I barely had the words “Hello, My Love,” out of my mouth before hers was against mine, soft lips pressing insistently as her tongue dove for my my own. We grabbed each other — more of an assault disguised as a hug — and reveled in each other for a few minutes before she broke the kiss. Breathlessly she whispered “I had best dirty dreams and now I need you.” I was exhausted and nearly ready to pass out, my lower back was in complete agony, but those words stirred my crotch and made me change my mind about sleeping just yet.
We rushed the kids off to school and Mrs. AP locked the door behind her on her way back into the bedroom. In a flash her shirt and thong were on the floor. I gazed up at her from the bed in adoration as her hips swayed ever so slightly, her luscious breasts swaying seductively. I was transfixed as she leaned over and began deliberately stripping my clothes off of me. With some help from me I was soon as naked as her, my cock rising to salute her. As she slid up me to straddle my hips and lean forward to kiss me she teased her nipples against my hips, stomach, and chest. Oh what a tantalizing sensation that is, to feel just the tips brushing against me.
She settled against my cock, sliding her lips along my length, letting me feel her heat and wetness; her dreams had been good indeed! She was dripping already! She shifted slightly and with a rock of her hips grabbed the head of my cock and slowly slid herself down the length of me until her lips were resting against my balls. Gods, she was tight and nearly burning hot and had never felt better. She rose and fell on me slowly, both of us moaning and yearning for more… but in good accordance with doctor’s orders she slid off me to grab a condom and roll it down my cock before mounting me again.
Mrs. AP was feeling particularly playful. She was pouncing me, kissing me, tickling me, holding me, and caressing me in all the right places every chance she got. We were smiling, we were laughing, and sometimes when we brushed against each other in just the right ways we were trembling with pleasure as well. We’d been doing this all day, or at least all evening, and as it slowly progressed the evil, delightful, wonderful twinkle in her eye increased in brilliance. I knew she had something in mind, but as if often the case with the mind of a sadist, I was certain I could never guess. Goodness, was I ever right on that one.
Upon the suggestion that we should lock the door to take our playful exchanges to a more intimate level, Mrs. AP hopped up and danced over to the door, throwing the lock with a deft flick of the wrist that voiced louder than any statement just how focused her intentions were. She turned back to me, grinning, that twinkle in her eye so bright it could drown out stars, and very deliberately sauntered back to the bed. As a question toward her intentions formed on my tongue she grabbed my feet and pulled me to the edge of the bed; the question died on my lips as she lunged forward and merged her lips with mine, her tongue seeking entrance not only into my mouth but into the very recesses of my soul. With no words at all, she declared me to be wholly and unequivocally hers. The kiss broke quickly, just as firmly, and suddenly her hands were pulling my shirt up my chest and over my head. She paused halfway, my vision full of cotton threads as her hand began tracing the contours of my chest, my side, the underside of my arms and back again, meandering with no apparent intent other than to touch me. Fingertips faded to nails and back again, gentle to firm to nearly cutting, and my nerves responded by dancing into higher states. My skin became an instrument, Mrs. AP the musician, and she played me until my nerves danced and spun with more fervor than any bolero could ever inspire. My body betrayed me, breaking control, and I wiggled and writhed under her touch as the sensations reached that point where pain and pleasure began to meld. I craved every touch while shying away, hoping the overwhelming touch would end while wishing it would be ever present. A moan escaped my lips as my back arched, pulling away from her, and in that moment my shirt was flying across the room and she was pushing me back onto the bed, leaving my chest and stomach aflame with the lingering memories of her fingers. I gasped for breath, reaching for something to help me ride the sensations, as she slid my pants down.