The streams of moonlight shimmering through the blinds illumined the room with their soft, grey glow. Lying there on the bed, listening to his voice on the other side of the receiver, sharing an intimate moment, wishing I could feel his hands exploring my body, his warm breath upon my skin, the wet caress of his lips atop my hardened nipples, his manhood filling the wet depths of my vagina. What I wouldn’t have done at that moment to have him there with me instead of lying there alone connected to him by only the sound of his voice.
The nature of my husband’s work takes him away from home for weeks on end, leaving me alone in our new home together for what feels like indefinite periods at a time. Even the nights when he is away when the closest we can be is together on the phone, no matter how intimate the conversation, words hardly fill the void created by his absence. But this last time was different.
Because the next city he would be traveling to was relatively close by, but not close enough to venture home, I thought it might be a treat to surprise him with a weekend visit. After checking his schedule to find at which hotel he would be staying, I made reservations at the same place, but used my maiden name, so as not to have him accidentally find out that I would be there. The concierge at the hotel was most friendly and took care of reservations for myself and my “friend” booking us at a cozy restaurant where he said the two could share a very elegant meal in a most romantic setting.
That weekend, when I set off from the house, I left my loneliness alone at home and disembarked for the not too distant city. At the hotel, I checked into my room, and then dialed home to check voicemail. Whenever my husband travels he always calls from his destination and leaves me the phone and room number of where he is staying in case I need to reach him. True to form, he left a message on the machine with his room and phone number.
In a folded piece of hotel stationery, I enclosed the card key to my room, along with a note to come up to my room, not signing it, but it writing it out in my all-too-familiar handwriting. With a wisp of his favorite perfume I scented the paper, and then went up to his room and slid the note as quietly and gently as I could under his door.
Back in my own room, I prepared for a night of romance and passion, first calling room service to have them bring up a bottle of champagne and two glasses, before “undressing” for the evening, so to speak. The image of my husband coming into the room and finding me on the bed decked out in a sheer back waist cincher, crotch-less g-string panties, black nylons and heels, with my breasts fully exposed for his viewing and affections had me very aroused. Just the thought of him stripping in front of me, climbing up on the bed and then pumping my vagina with the heated mass of his big, hard penis had me dripping with anticipation.
Just after 9:00PM, I heard him at the door, excitedly, and with some fumbling make his entry, certain as to why he was summoned to this room, but not knowing what he would encounter. His eyes practically bulged out of his head when he came upon me lying on the bed in my very sex get-up, with my legs slightly parted inviting him to partake of my misty morsels.
“Hello there,” I said, in the sultriest voice I could muster, “why don’t you take off your clothes and come up here and make passionate love to your wife.”
Slowly, subtly, unveiling rather than undressing, he exposed his body to me. When he finally got to his cotton boxers, his manhood was pushing hard against the cloth, a little pre-cum spot revealing just how aroused he had become. I had him come up on the bed and kneel in front of me so I could have the pleasure of pulling down his boxers and revealing his deliciously swollen manhood.
His penis popped out, hard and inflated. It was a feast for the eyes. Foreplay would have to wait. I wanted him inside me.
Motioning my husband to move between my legs, I spread the open crotch on my g-string panties and parted the lips of my now dew dripping vagina to show him where I longed for him to bury his penis. All I could think to say to him was, “Take me,” before he guided his tool into the parted lips of my silky wet vagina and sank the fullness of his manhood into me, filling me with its heated presence.
He pumped his tool into me, first slowly, letting me enjoy the feeling of its mass spreading wide the walls of my vagina, and then picked up the tempo until he was plunging it into me with nearly wild abandon causing our bed to heave under the force of his thrusting. I couldn’t believe how good his penis felt moving inside of me. It’s not like I’ve never made love with my husband before, but I’ve never done it with him where we’ve both wanted it so bad.
After a while, we changed positions on the bed, and I had my husband kneel behind me while I grasped onto his rod and guided myself onto its slippery length. My husband really likes to take me from behind, and when we were newlyweds, he used to get behind me, grasp onto my waist and pump passionately into my vagina saying there was no view in the world like the one he got when he stroked his manhood into me this way. This time, though, I did all the work, gliding back and forth on the length of his penis, putting on quite an erotic show for him.
He told me how really hot it looked watching the lips of my vagina encircle his manhood, how my womanhood just swallowed up his expanding length and then saw it emerge all wet with my juices. Not wanting to be left out, I played with my clitoris, while I pushed back and forth on his manhood, pleasuring myself to the point of orgasm.
As I was coming, I tightened around his embedded tool, which was all he could take before he pumped stream after stream of his hot semen into my pink passage to the point where I could feel our mingled juices running out of my vagina. He held me tight until he was fully spent inside of me, and then we collapsed into each other’s arms together on the bed.
The night had begun just as explosively as I had hoped it would, and now for the rest of the evening, we could savor each other’s bodies and indulge each other’s desires and fantasies. Moments later, my husband was helping me out of my sexy garments, and we made love more slowly, more deliberately, although still desiring his penetrations, we were both more willing at this point to reach that plateau tenderly and gracefully.
The rest of the weekend was just as beautiful; dinner, taking in a show, touring the city, and lovemaking. My husband says from now on we’ll plan to spend more weekends like this together, and we won’t have to wait till he goes away on business again. I hope so.
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