The Tiger

It had been a very long day.  Yeah, that sounds cliché, but sometimes there are reasons for clichés.  After all, how many of us had a long day this week?  So, why begrudge me the cliché.  As I was saying, it had been a long day.  I was exhausted, and not ready for my domestic duties.  In my case this meant picking up the kids boy and girl, (2 and 9 years of age respectively).

It’s not that I didn’t want to see them, I always do, it’s just that I feel guilty when I am exhausted.  I need to relax, but I worry that they might interpret my malaise as a lack of interest or love.  OK, maybe I am a bit neurotic.  In any event, it works.   By the time I picked up my little guy from day care, I was all smiles and he jumped into my arms.  Man, that is good stuff.  I almost forgot the worries of this life that were bringing me down.

Next, we drove to my daughter’s school, and waited almost 15 minutes to drive follow the path and procedures for driving through the pick up lane in the parking lot.  She leapt into the back seat, kissed her little brother (nice), and blurted, “Hi Daddy!”

OK, now I was beginning to feel good, if still tired.  We chatted about their days as I made my way through traffic for a surprise visit to Baskin Robbins.  Two cones, and four sticky hands later, we got back in the car and drove home.  After helping my daughter with her math, and reading a bit of “Clifford” to my little guy, we all settled in for a short TV session of 1950s sitcoms.  (In our case, we chose an I Love Lucy DVD.)

“I’m home!” echoed through the house, as the door slammed.  My kids gave the usual Pavlov Ian response and squealed into the kitchen yelling “Mommy!”  Falling backwards onto the wood floor, my wife Andrea laughed a full bodied, full figured, throaty laugh that would warm the heart of Ebenezer Scrooge.

What an amazing mommy and wife.  We had been married over 15 years, and I appreciate, and love, her more now than ever.  She is kind, strong, and oblivious to material success.  She supports me in all my endeavors to tilt windmills, and I would gladly do anything she asked me to do.

Andrea stands 5’6, and weighs almost 70 pounds more than when we married.  Her skin is not as tight, and she won’t attract the eyes of many young studs, but she is more beautiful than the day we married.  Her eyes are an even deeper shade of green, if that is possible.  (You say it isn’t, but I swear it is.)  They are kinder and more knowing, wiser and yet more gentle than ever before.

I would do anything for my wife.  It is not infatuation it is deep admiration, intense appreciation and intimacy resulting from 15 plus years of the greatest friendship I have ever known.

After wrestling, and snuggling, the kids, Andrea, headed down the hall to the MBR and bathroom, slapping my ass on the way.  Man, I love that.  Of course, the one negative was that my pants grew tight, while I realized that there was no hope of intimacy with the kids around.

Just as I began to feel sorry for myself, I heard a second car pull into the driveway.  I peaked outside, and recognized my in-laws’ Camry.  There was hope, yet.

“Hi” shouted my boisterous mother-in-law Marie as she entered our side door.  “Hi” I enthusiastically responded with a hug.  My dear, bawdy mother-in-law gave me a wink, and slyly said, “Um, I think you might get lucky tonight my dear son-in-law.”  I blushed.  Who wouldn’t?  Nonetheless, I welcomed the news.

Within ten minutes the kids were packed for the night, and gone.  I sat down to read and wait for Andrea.  I absently tried to think of some nice places for a romantic dinner.  Places we could get into without a reservation.

Just as I made up my mind to suggest a new place on the outskirts of town, Andrea appeared in the doorway.  Appeared sounds like another cliché for a story involving sex, but that’s the way it seemed.  More importantly, an unexpected view of your nude wife is hard to describe without resorting to the word “appeared.”

Yes, she was nude.  Round, mature, and incredibly sexy, her 38 D boobs hung loose and taunted me.  They were sexier than any taut, but fake, boobs I could imagine.  I needed to suckle them, and yet she stood there, inviting me to take inventory.

This was unusual, as I did not often get the chance to ogle my wife.  Usually, she would grow self-conscious and instigate foreplay.  This was a nice change of pace.  I love my wife, and t me she is a work of art.  Something was different, though.  Something shiny.

This next part of my story is unbelievable, unless you have a busy life, two kids, and have been married for many years.  Here it is:  We had not had sex in over two months.  I don’t even know how much longer than two months it had been.  I just know it was more than two months.

All that to say, in that time she had managed to have her left tit pierced, and with time to heal.  Looking at me knowingly, Andrea growled, “You owe me!  It did hurt, and I am hoping it is worth it.”  Now we had made love many times, but the raw look of desire in my baby’s eyes was stunning.  Yes, I wanted sex, but even more than that I wanted intimacy.  Serious.  I wanted to serve my sweet, gentle wife, who stood in front of me.

So, I did the natural thing.  I went to her and kissed her gently on the lips, my eyes full of tears, my heart full of emotion and memories.

After a few minutes, Andrea pushed my head down, and I licked her ears and neck, whispering inane thoughts about my very real love for her.  She pushed me down even further, and I suckled her right tit with my mouth and tongue, massaging it to increasing stages of erectness.  Pulling, flicking, gently nibbling, I moaned and muttered words of love.  My left hand found her left tit and toyed with the new silver ring I found there.  I felt Andrea’s hand on top of mine, as she guided me into the acts that stimulated her most.

Andrea began to thrust and grind, and I felt her push my head down.  She pushed hard, and then uttered unladylike words I had never heard before, “Lick my tiger!”

What?  Did she mean that I was finally being allowed to taste her pussy?  As if she was reading my mind, Andrea moaned, “Yeah, lick my pussy.  Now!”  She had never spoken this way before, but I was more than willing to oblige.  I was so touched that she felt the need to demand my love.

I love this sweet girl, and making out with her cunt was a dream come true.  This might sound like harsh language, but to me the rawness spoke of intimacy and vulnerability.  What a name, too!  “Tiger!”  Perfect for a strawberry blonde bush set against creamy white skin.

I could have approached gently and with trepidation.  That time had passed, though.  Then again, my baby had never desired insensitive ministrations.  What to do?  Easy answer.  I began to kiss those lips as if they were a mouth.  Treasuring them, passionately tasting and nibbling them, befriending them, before finally pressing my tongue between those precious folds of skin …

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