A true story from a few nights ago. Enjoy!
The glow of a single bedside lamp casts the bedroom in a cozy half-light. Approaching midnight, the room, the house, the surrounding outdoors are all so noticeably quiet, the kind of quiet we aren't usually awake for anymore. For once there is nothing else, nobody else, just me and him. And it is way past our bedtime.
Wearing the simple bralette and pair of underwear that I've come to show up to bed in over the past few months, our butter-soft sheets brush my abdomen, my sides, my arms, my thighs as I shifted into the crook of my husband's left arm, my head resting on his shoulder. We talk about anything and nothing, whatever comes to mind, and the world feels as small as our bedroom, a relief from the big-ness of life lately.
We laugh about something, then comfortable silence. A sudden and small flicker of desire fills the space in conversation, the space between my legs. I notice. I wait. It isn't very strong. It almost never is at first. I almost let it pass. And then my left hand slides from it's resting place on his chest in a downward direction.
My fingertips tease the line of his underwear, then slip beneath it to brush lightly against his half-hardness. A few brushes, up and down. Inner thighs, circles, feather-like, the skin beneath them becoming taut. In moments he's hard, like a safe landing place, and he shifts into me as I pull his t-shirt over his head and my tongue finds a nipple. He shudders a little.
In one sudden movement I'm on all fours, tongue working down his abdomen as he lifts himself with two strong arms up the bed into a seat, his underwear coming off as my mouth closes so lightly over the head of his penis and another shudder breaks the stillness in the air.
A swirl of the tongue. A half inch deeper. A release, and warm breath on warm skin. Then again. A bit deeper. A teasing, and then I take him fully into my mouth and breathe in his musk as pointer finger and thumb wrap around the base of his shaft and he moans ever so slightly again. His smell is faint, and hot. I feel another twinge between my legs. A sort of expanding heaviness. It lingers this time.
He begins to shift on the bed and I release him from my mouth, our lips meeting deeply and my bra comes off as his hand fumbles for a bottle in the bedside drawer. A dab of slickness on the fingertips and he brushes quickly past the waistband of my underwear to find my center, which expands immediately under his touch as his mouth sucks in the tip of my nipple. A simultaneous flicking of finger and tongue. Where are the words for that moment of first touch? Sweet addiction, utter helplessness.
My mouth finds his penis again and his hand bulges inside my underwear as his fingers trace over my clitoris rapidly. The tugging of the underwear. Something about it sends shutters down my spine every time. It feels wrong. I imagine we're in my basement college bedroom. He's not supposed to be here. And his hand is not supposed to be there. The wrongness is irresistible. Nobody can know this secret. Only he can know the wetness between my legs. The tug of that fabric takes me there.
And then in a moment, off it comes and his mouth finds the spot between my inner thigh and outer lips. Gentle biting, soft sucking, finger sliding. "Oh" is all I can get out.
His penis is in my cheek now. I've never done this before. In seven years, a "never done this before" doesn't happen too often. He moans loud and deep and his body stiffens into it. "Oh, yes." I rub and rub his hard head into the inside of my cheek. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes."
We untangle and our mouths meet. His hand stays. How he always manages to keep his fingers on my clitoris, I marvel at. With the other hand, he finds a condom and I help it onto his erection. Then we lay parallel to each other, his hardness against my back. I open my hips. His hand never stops. I reach back to grab his butt and without a hand to help, his penis slides in from behind. The ease of it sets off a wave of fireworks between my legs and in my brain. This is so easy. It flows.
I feel his penis with every edge of my inside, a dull, sweet aching. My right leg drapes just over his and he's in, and out, slow and rhythmic. From this, my favorite position, I feel every inch of every stroke. "Oh." It's hard to get out much else.
My legs spread. I hold my right thigh up. His legs move closer together. His finger works my clitoris. He moves his hips in and out. I move my hips around and around. I glance down at my own curves and his arm draped over and between them and I see beauty. I'm grateful for the minutes that pass as this moment lingers on.
I feel his whole body tense up suddenly, but he doesn't stop. A big groan and I can feel the cum inside me, even in the condom. The thought of it sends me over the edge and I begin to buckle without control. My "oh's" fill the room, high, exclamation and relief at once. It lingers, then tapers and his fingers move to the sides of my vulva to massage slowly. His penis is still harder than I would expect. It moves in. Then it moves out. Slow and lazy, seeking the lingering warmth.
Soon we still but remain spooning in the sex for a few minutes. Then a gentle slip out, a soft kiss, and it's time to fall into the deep slumber that can only come from nights like this.