Who Are We? & The Date

Who Are We?

We are Joy and Arthur—maybe.  I, Art, am using these names to preserve our identity on the off chance someone we know will read them.  So, “Joy and Art,” and that’s what our stories are all about: the joy and art of marital sex.  As most of our stories mention, we are retired and have been married since our late teens.  Although we had done some pretty heavy touching, we were both virgins on our wedding night.  Abstinence before marriage was nearly impossible for me, and I suspect it was also difficult for her.  But we were both Christians and wanted to save sex until we were married.  Neither of us has ever had sex with any other, so I tell these stories from my experience with only this woman.

Our wedding night was the most exciting night of my life.  I was married to a beautiful eighteen-year-old girl; I was only nineteen.  I had a naked and willing woman in my bed.  We made love three times that night, but I’ve got to admit it wasn’t great sex for me; maybe my expectations were too high.  But, as someone once said about pizza, the worst I’ve ever had was pretty good.  It was exciting, and I enjoyed it, but I’m not sure the physicality of it was great for her.  Being a virgin, she said it hurt but in a good way.  However, it has continually improved since that night, if possible.

Now, in our older age, we both love sex with each other more than ever.  We’ve always been a close couple, never wanting to be away from each other, even enjoying being side-by-side throughout much of our shared careers.  And we are still quite active, making love on average a couple of times per week.  So I think it’s sad when I hear one of our female friends mention that she and her husband are done with sex.  Why?  It’s the most fantastic feeling God has ever given us.  And I don’t mean just physically, but emotionally as well.  I love my wife and want to be intimately close to her as often as possible.

That’s the impetus behind these stories.  We both love fun sex, and Joy likes it when I tell her just what I have in mind for her.  Most of what I write is true and is about our sex life.  Perhaps it’s written a little steamier than it really is, but it’s pretty close to how we actually live.  Some of it is just my fantasy, but it may come true soon.  

In a way, the stories I write are my love letters to Joy, in which I tell her how much I love her and how she still excites me.  I hope you enjoy the vicarious sexual adventures I am taking you on and hope even more that you enjoy your spouse as much as I do mine.  So read a bedtime story or two and make hot, steamy, and passionate love to him or her. 

The Date

In early October, the weather can still be warm but comfortable here in the Deep South.  It was one of those days; the sun had been out all day, and the evening was coming early, as it does this time of year.

My husband suggested that we go out for a quick dinner this evening.  We don’t do it very often, but we had been home all day doing yard work, and neither of us wanted to cook.  He recommended one of our local Mexican restaurants, and it was early enough that margaritas would be half-priced.  I said we needed to clean up first, but he thought we should just change into something clean for now and take showers later.  He also asked that I wear a dress or skirt but no panties.  I knew he was horny because several times in the day, especially if I bent over, he would come up behind me and grind his dick into my butt, usually reaching around to squeeze my breasts.  Sometimes, I could feel his erection.

So we went inside to change, and I did as he asked; I chose a clean T-shirt and a loose skirt and went without panties.  I also noticed as he pulled on a clean pair of jeans that he wasn’t wearing any underwear either.

We drove to the little restaurant, where I immediately ordered a margarita to sip while we decided on our meals.  We chose what we thought would be the simplest and quickest to prepare.  Until the food came, we made small talk, but he also kept mentioning how much he wanted just to touch my breasts.  I ordered a second margarita, and when the meal arrived, we ate quickly, paid the check, and left; the food was good, but we were both ready to head home.  Plus, the margaritas were doing their job: I was horny.

On the drive home, he opened the car’s sunroof.  The warm October evening air felt fabulous!  He then pulled up his favorite playlist of love-making songs.  As we drove slowly through our little town, Art reached across and slid my skirt up slightly to reveal the hairy spot he loved so much.  He rubbed my inner thigh and let his little finger rest just inside my split.  I thought I might lose it then, but I wanted it to last longer—much longer.  His hand moved a bit more, and he opened me up with his fingers and began to rub my ever-wetter clit.  It was heaven: the wind, the music, the alcohol, and his fingers. 

“Stop!” I begged, “I don’t want to come now.” I pushed his hand away and looked over at his crotch.  His bulge was visible, fat and long.  I could see the outline of his dick and its head through his jeans.  Delicious!  I unzipped his pants and fished out his shaft.  It looked beautiful as it stood tall and proud through the opening in his jeans.  I gently stroked it, mainly on the underside where he felt the most sensation.  I wanted to lean over and just put it in my mouth, but that would be too awkward, and it hadn’t been cleaned yet.  So I just held it tight as we pulled into our long, heavily wooded driveway.  Although we live in a community, our lot is large and densely wooded, which gives us a great deal of privacy.

He pulled the car to a stop and got out, not bothering to put his dick away.  I watched him walk towards the back gate with his beautiful manhood poking out.  He walked into the backyard and did what I’ve seen him do a thousand times: he began to pee.  I usually don’t pay much attention to the “guy thing” he does, but tonight was different.  I was so horny, and his dick was so hard.  Because of his erection, it took him a minute to get started, but when he did, the pee came out with such force that the stream must have been at least six feet long.  His pee arched in the air as high as his head and flowed like a water hose.  For some reason, I found this to be so hot!  A small part of me wanted to go wash my hands in it, or at least stand in front of him and let him pee all over my pussy.

When he finished, he shook his dick but still didn’t put it away.  He walked over to the hot tub, opened the lid, and invited me to join him as he stripped naked and got in.  I quickly ran into the house to retrieve a bottle of red wine and a glass for the party I knew was about to begin.  When I got back outside, I dropped my skirt, pulled off my t-shirt and bra, and quickly joined him, but not before peeing in the yard myself.

We sat there naked in the warm water, watching the stars appear in the sky.  I sipped the wine and let myself float.  We always liked getting in the hot tub before sex; it felt relaxing and sexy to be outside and naked with the man I love so much.  He just lay there as well, his dick floating lazily in the water.  I loved watching it sway to and fro as the warm water moved it around.  One thing we liked most about the hot tub was how it cleaned us so deeply.  I wanted to kiss his balls and put his dick in my mouth, but it was always so much better when it was clean and smelled good.  I also wanted him to touch my pussy and give it that gentle massage he does so well, and the deep cleansing of the hot tub gave me the confidence that he would find me pleasing.

He rubbed my pussy, then stood up in front of me.  I scooped up his dick in my mouth and gently massaged it with my tongue while he moaned and held my head in his hands.  After a few minutes, he sank back and suggested we wash the chlorine off our bodies and hop into bed.

He climbed out of the tub—I loved to watch this.  He always did it with his back to me so I could see his butt, and I loved his butt.  Then he raised his leg high to clear the tub’s edge and step out.  When he did, his balls and dick would hang right in front of me.  This rear view was so manly and beautiful.  His balls gently swung as he stepped out.  I followed, and we quickly closed the tub, gathered our clothes, and ran up the stairs, hoping our neighbors weren’t watching.  Although the hot tub was tucked away from the neighbor’s view, the stairs were the vulnerable spot.  It was dark but still a bit thrilling to know we were naked and in full view.

Inside, Art switched on both shower heads.  In building our house, we added as many features as we could think of.  The his-and-hers shower was one of the best.  It was big, with plenty of room for two people, and had a shower head on each end.  We took most of our showers together, usually just to get clean.  But then, there were plenty of times we would meet in the middle, and tonight was one of those times. 

I soaped up my hands and began to wash his dick and balls, and he did the same to me as we kissed.  He then turned his back to wash his face, and I reached around and grabbed his dick.  He loved it when I did this.  Then, with my soapy hand, I reached between his legs and felt his dick.  It was so hard and long.  I was always amazed at the hardness—not just in his dick, but reaching under his balls almost to his ass hole.  First, I rubbed it,  then his balls.  Then I slid my hand from the tip of his dick, down its shaft, over his balls, and all the way to his asshole.  It drove him crazy.

Art turned off the water and stepped out.  We dried quickly and got into bed—not the normal way, but our way to have the most intense and erotic sexual experience one could imagine.

There is a blanket chest at the foot of our bed that he pulled out just far enough to sit on and face the bed.  He directed me to sit, then lie, at the end of the bed on my back with my face directly in front of him.  His dick and balls sat at just the right level for me to massage them, and I did just that.  Then I took his dick and began to lick it; he shuddered.  He squirmed and moaned as I licked it up and down, kissed its head, and rubbed his balls.  I held his dick in my hand and licked his balls, now and then sucking one whole ball into my mouth.  He loved every minute of it, and so did I.

After a long while, Art decided it was my turn.  He had me turn around and lie down in front of him as he sat and massaged my pussy.  This used to make me self-conscious and uncomfortable, but I’ve lived with him for decades, and we’ve had sex thousands of times, so he knows my pussy better than I do.  Plus, the margaritas had given me that “what the hell” feeling.  I’d just lie there and enjoy his touch.  He made me feel so sexy and wanted.

Art gently spread my pussy and rubbed it until it was wet and slippery.  He told me how beautiful my pussy was and how much he wanted it.  Then he slowly slid one finger into my vagina and used his thumb to massage my clit.  I just let go and let him ravage me for a while.  Then he stood up and began to rub his dick along the length of my slit, using its underside to massage the whole area.  I was wet, and he soaked up my wetness to lubricate his dick.

Then he pushed the head into my vagina.  It resisted him at first, but with some gentle back and forth, he began to slide in.  He moved slowly but deliberately; I could feel him spreading me open.  My vagina was tight and fought back, but it couldn’t resist his continued push.  Then it was in—I could feel his entire length as he pushed it as far as it would go.  His body touched mine as he reached full depth, his balls pressing into my butt.  He mashed them firmly onto me. 

The glorious dick filling my wet and welcoming vagina felt tremendous.  I lay on my back while Art stood at the foot of the bed, so I could look up at his pleasure-filled face and reach out to touch his chest.

Art gazed down at my pussy, telling me how beautiful it was and how he could never get enough of it.  Then, he drew himself back ever so slowly and pulled the shaft of his dick out but left the head of it in me.  Then back in, this time more quickly.  In and out, he developed a steady rhythm.  As he did, he began to rub my clit with his fingers. 

The feelings were incredibly intense: Art’s dick going back and forth, filling me, and his fingers teasing my clit.  His movements grew faster and faster.  Being repeatedly jabbed so violently and deeply sounds like it should hurt, but it felt better than anything I can describe.  He pounded me quickly, over and over and over.  

Then suddenly, Art stopped, pulled his dick out of me, and grabbed it with his hand.  With a few quick strokes, he unleashed his cum all over my stomach.  I always loved watching him cum.  The milky liquid that spews out of his beautiful dick drives me crazy.  And to feel its warm splash on my body—I can’t describe it.  I just lay there in ecstasy.  He shot again, maybe four more times, each spurt a little less than the last.  Then he squeezed his dick as if to get the last bit of his precious sexy liquid out and onto me.  

Art stood there a minute before leaning over and kissing me deeply.  Then he lay across me, causing his cum to smear on both of us, and moved his body around as if to rub it in.  Then he stood up again and put his hands on my cum-soaked tummy.  He took a little of it and rubbed it on my nipples, then kissed them, and I nearly came too.

Art smeared a little more of the slippery liquid on his fingers and used it to lubricate my vagina.  Then, while he flicked my slippery clit, he took some with his other hand and rubbed it all over his dick.  It was still pretty hard, so he slid it back into me.  I’d never been brought to such sexual heights before.  How could sex be this good?

Art moved gently back and forth in me and rubbed my clit in little circles—slowly and softly at first, then faster and harder.  His in-and-out movements kept pace with his clit massage.

I couldn’t contain myself.  I exploded.  I don’t know if it was my clit, my vagina, or my whole body.  My every muscle stiffened, the pleasure so incredible that I nearly blacked out.  I don’t think I’ve ever had a bigger orgasm.

Then my body relaxed.  I could feel Art’s dick soften within me until he pulled it out and rubbed my pussy a little more.  Finally, he climbed into bed next to me, and we cuddled for a little while.  We were wet and sticky, but it was the most wonderful wet-and-stickiness one could imagine. 

“Should we get another shower?” Art asked, but I told him no, we could just wipe off.  So he reached for the T-shirt he had been wearing, and I mopped his cum off me.  Or was I rubbing it in?  I liked the second thought.  There we lay, absorbing each other through our skin—his cum on me and my wetness on him.  Two people can never be any closer than this.

I love him so much.