Handoff Day

I am entering into my second year of divorce, after my wife of 18 years left her faith, then eventually left me. I am rebuilding, and I am dreaming of a day when I can share my life with a godly woman. This is a fictional story about the life I hope we can build.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It has been a wild ride. My shift has ended, and on schedule, I picked up my kids after work.

The kids were bickering on the way home, and I tiredly tried to break them up.

But it was all made better by the fact that you were waiting at home for us. My graceful doe. My love. The stepmother to my children.

The smell of fresh baking changed everyone’s mood as soon as we entered the door. The kids ran to the kitchen to find fresh cinnamon buns. Content in their distraction, you slid away, and met me at the door.

In your presence, I fell into the moment and could think of nothing but you.

Your hips sway gently as you walk to me, and I find myself fascinated by a different set of buns. Gratitude swells with love and mixes with a lusty desire as I follow your curves. We meet, and the warmth of your body calms me. I sigh deeply, drinking you in through the kiss.

“Dad, dad, DAAAD!” one of the kids calls from the kitchen.

That’s all the time we get—for now. Our eyes meet, and there is an unspoken promise: tonight—we will finish this tonight.

The kids get fed and cared for. Halloween costumes and painted masks are happily pulled from boxes. When the play-fighting and prayers and stories finally end, my slow steps traverse the stairs.

Your eyes follow me as I enter the room. My back is stooped with fatigue. You are under the covers, up to your neck—a telltale sign that you’re hiding something to entice me. I make a kissing motion with my lips, then head to the bathroom to prepare. I want to be clean for you, my love. This day was good. God bless this day. He made it; we will rejoice. But also, that was enough evil for one day, and I need to wash it off.

Your eyes are closed when I return. But you are not asleep. I know you better than that.

My skin is hot and very clean, aromatic from the shower. Wearing a white bathrobe, I climb onto the fresh sheets, gently straddling you. My doe, my lover, my friend.

Your eyes do not open, but I feel you respond to me—your breath quickens, your body shifts to receive me.

Now I’m on my hands and knees, encompassing you. I bury my face into the pillow next to you, touching our cheeks together. We breathe as one, as I let my weight press gently on you. We rise and fall like the ocean, gently feeling the song of our unity.

Your hands pull free from the bedsheets and begin slowly and so lovingly tracing lines of desire up and down my back, then down to my tight, blue-collar buttocks. I know that is your favourite spot, and I am rather amenable to your stroking it as well.

I turn my head slightly. On one side, I kiss and tickle your face with my lips and beard. On the other, I cup your cheek and gently stroke your face with my rough hands. I shift, and my forearm is on your small but firm breasts. I make use of it, gently pushing down and rubbing your nipple until it becomes hard under me.

I move my weight off of you and reach my hand down under the covers. You are naked.

“Good girl,” I whisper, and I hear your breath quicken at the playful jab.

I find your left nipple and begin to roll it in my fingers, pressing and loving the flesh of your breast. Your hand ventures under my robe, stroking my backside. Then slowly, but with purpose, it comes down and in front. I lift myself up for you, and you find my manly rod.

I groan involuntarily as you grasp me and expertly pump downwards.

I intensify expressions of desire for you. My lips descend on your left nipple, drawing it into my mouth, and flicking it hard with my tongue, while I play with the other one. You respond in kind, pulling harder and faster on me, then switching to cup the balls, and play with the tender skin between my legs.

My fatigue has turned to a blinding, overwhelming passion. I have to have you. I need to make you come—right NOW!

I dive under the covers, my body tracing a line along yours. I find your crotch and pause only for a moment. My head rests on your thigh, and I drink in the fragrance of your womanhood. But you are less patient. Seizing the moment, you roll over and put my clean and pulsating dick in your mouth. It is not massively long, but it is satisfyingly wide (as you tell me). As such, it’s a bit much to handle in your mouth, but I don’t mind the feel of your teeth gently tracing my length.

My face goes in deep between your thighs, and you make a sharp intake, then let out a long, slow moan. Your man knows what he is doing. Your passion is lighting me up, but I don’t want to go yet. Regretfully, I pull myself upwards, out of your mouth. I permit you to keep stroking my ass and my balls.

My tongue is on your clit, and my nose is deep into your pussy. My arms are locked around your legs, as I make humming noises, devouring you. You switch to pumping my dick fast, and then are overcome with pleasure, and are temporarily unable to continue. I feel you arch up under me and make gasping sounds. I can feel that you are close. I do not over-compensate.

There is time for this. I stay slow, and I stay steady. I am in a rhythm with your hips: a lick, a suck, deep inside. A lick, a suck on the clit, and deep inside. Your pussy begins to open up to me, and I stay steady. Lick, suck, deep inside. Lick, suck, deep inside. I begin to taste the metallic taste your pussy gets right before a big orgasm. I reach my hands around and pull your thighs apart as wide as they can go. Your tender folds are open to me, and I continue to steadily devour you.

Lick, suck, deep inside. Lick, suck, deep inside.

I reach my fingers around, past my face. You are trembling now and nearly lifting off the bed. I know this is it. I put two fingers in and push down hard on the side of your pussy wall, pinning your inner vagina wall to your femur. You yell and begin to squirt in my face. I smile to myself and continue to suck on your clit, applying pressure where I know it makes you wild. The squirt tastes bitter but lovely in my mouth.

As the pleasure fades from you, you awake from the haze, as if from a dream. I climb back up on you, wet with your love.

There is no shame in this—we are past that. You know I love it when you squirt on me, and you smile up at me.

“Good girl,” I say lovingly, nuzzling you.

“You were a very good boy to me,” you say, hanging your arms around my neck.

Your boobs and my chest gently graze one another. My dick is close to your tender love hole.

“Yeah?” I ask.

You know how much these words mean to me. In this moment, they are everything.

“Yeah,” you say seductively, keeping eye contact and grasping my member, pulling me closer. “You are a very, very big, very strong, lover.”

I am nearly into her now. My tip can feel the warmth of her opening. She lets go of me and spreads her lips with two fingers.

“You’ve been a very good… oh!”

My girth surprises her. It always does.

She waited so long for this—so, so long—and now that it is here, she enjoys it whenever she can. She loves to make love to me—to not be alone, to be cherished and appreciated and loved and thanked and adored.

And filled. Also that. She loves that.

“Good boy. You’re so good to me. A good boy. . .” As I mount up on my elbows, her voice trails off. With our legs intertwined, I begin a long, slow rhythm in missionary.

“Play with yourself,” I tell her gently, our cheeks close. “Make it good for yourself.”

Obediently, her fingers go between her legs, tracing a figure eight on her swollen clit. I love it when she does that. I love feeling her between us. I can see her building as I come close to my own climax.

Her eyes close, and her head pulls back. I am nearly there now. I pull back and lift up. I want to see this. My passion is almost pulling my eyes closed. I take in the beauty of her breasts, her face, and the love we have between us, acknowledged in the expression of pure pleasure spilling across her face.

I cannot hold it anymore. I can feel her begin to come, and I go with her. Our muted groans sound as one, as our bodies throb, empty themselves, and are filled together.

I do not pull away, but lie tenderly on her. Our bodies are rising and falling together. Now, we are naked, we are together. Inside one and the other. The two are one.

“I love you,” I say.

The words come back like an echo across the waves: “I love you too,” she replies, as her hands return to my ass.

I pull some blankets over us, and soon we are asleep.

In a few minutes, we both come to, get up, and clean the mess that we have made. But we do not get dressed. As quickly as we can, we return to soft covers and softer embraces.

I am my lover’s, and my lover is mine.