? One of Those Nights

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It had been a while since we had had “one of those nights.” You know, the ones: when it’s over, you stare up into the darkness of the ceiling mesmerized by the slowly spinning fan blades thinking, “Did we really just do that?”

For the most part, I thought we had done a good job of balancing our different styles of sex. We had our everyday maintenance sex—which, don’t misunderstand, I very much enjoy. Then we had our fun sex, which I loved because my beautiful wife was usually smiling, laughing, and a bit adventurous. And sometimes we shared the deep, passionate, intimate sex which connected our souls as much if not more than our bodies and that only a godly, inspired marriage could produce.

But I was longing for another “one of those nights” of sex, where we tossed aside all inhibitions and fears. A night absent of judgment and full of “I dare yous,” in which fantasies were revealed and resolved. I tremendously love it when my wife and I connect deeply and intimately, but these nights I often replay in my mind.

I remember the night we had sex on the hood of her car out in the driveway one night after drinking wine on the front porch. Or the night in Iowa when I took her from behind and pressed her tits up against the hotel’s giant window as a crowded rooftop bar gazed upward to the sights of the 7th floor. I loved the fact that she had a bit of an exhibitionist in her, and I loved it when she would free her naughty from the cage she kept it locked in.

To me, these nights helped us to remember our love was more than the bills, the stress of work, and the doldrums of everyday life. Our marriage was a gift from God, and it was to be celebrated and enjoyed.

This was to be one of those nights.

She had left the house left early that Saturday afternoon in search of a new dress. I love her in a dress. She always seems to be a bit more flirtatious when she wore one. She knew it drove me crazy, and frequently bent over an inch or two too far, revealing just enough cleavage to tease me. Sometimes she’d wear something that barely contained her full breasts, toying with me that they were so accessible, but I couldn’t touch. And of course, the addition of seductive heels would push me over the edge.

After she had found the dress that she decided would pleasantly torture me, she confidently ventured into the adult toy store and made a few surprise purchases.

In her absence, I had showered and shaved both the five o’clock shadow from my face and any lingering stubble from my balls and shaft. She liked for me being smooth down there, so I always tried to keep it to her liking. I remained naked so she could conveniently catch me fresh out of the shower. As she tossed her bags down on the bed, she reached over to briefly fondle my half-stiff cock with a soft sexual “Mmmmm” as she knelt and gave it far to quick of a kiss.

“I’m taking a shower now; leave me. No peeking,” my wife said as she ushered me out of the room to stand naked in the hallway.

I waited as time excruciatingly ticked by. I listened in anticipation to the shower start and eventually stop. Then after a few minutes, the hairdryer went on and off, then on and off again. I heard the clinking and clanking of makeup kits, then finally, the bedroom door open.

High heels click across the hardwood floor, and I turned to see my baby. Before I could process the image that stood before me, my dick throbbed with excitement and expectation. Her long, almost amber hair flowed in waves to just below her shoulders. As she walked past the sunlit window, I could see she had added in a few touches of red. I loved it when she would go a little bit redder, as it meant she was feeling sexually adventurous. Her makeup brought out what I affectionately call her Hollywood eyes; they remind me of the lustful and seductive sirens of the days of black-and-white when sexuality was more imagination than gratuitous. She had chosen a sleeveless black and white polka dot dress with thin straps over her shoulders. The ruffled bottom finished just above her knee, highlighting her toned calves accentuated by the height and angle of the sheer black heels.

“Ready?” she sheepishly asked. Oh, if she only knew how truly ready I was! I hoped the bulge in my pants didn’t give me away.

We got in the car and headed out for the quick drive up to Tulsa to the Hard Rock hotel, chosen specially for its high floors and overlooking windows.

Once on the turnpike, I settled into the cruising lane. My eyes reacted as she eased her seat back and reached behind us for one of the bags she’d brought home earlier. Then she coyly lifted the polka-dotted ruffles of her dress and commented playfully, “Oh damn, I forgot to pack any panties,” advertising to me at 80 mph that she’d freed her pussy from the evil undergarments.

I shouldn’t have been shocked. My wife would often go “free and open” when she wore a dress because she likes the freedom she felt and knows how much it turns me on. But it did surprise me when she pulled out a small blue vibrator from the pink bag.

“Try to keep your eyes on the road,” she whispered as a soft hum came from the passenger seat. When she rubbed it across her clit, airy moans of pleasure started to fill the car. With her other hand, she slipped one shoulder strap and lifted her breast above the fabric that now dangled across her chest. She moved the vibrator in and out, slowly at first and then quickly.

I reached over and began teasing and squeezing the nipple that was peeking out. My wife’s moans and breaths rose until she ultimately let out a scream of ecstasy that I swear the car in front of us heard.

As we neared the gas station and convenience store at the halfway point, she pulled the vibrator from beneath her dress up to her lips to lick it clean. “Get off at the store, but don’t park too close,” she commanded with a wink.

I barely had the car in park when she leaned over and let loose my swollen cock drenched in pre-cum. Facedown in my lap as truckers and families gassed up in the near distance, my wife relieved me of every salty ounce I had been brewing since early that morning.

Soon we were back on the road and, shortly after, pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. After checking in and getting the room key, we made our way to the elevator and the 12th floor.

Like two kids on prom night, as soon as the doors closed, I pulled her next to me and began kissing the sexy and naughty love of my love. Also, as a little payback, I reached under her dress and slid my hand up her inner thigh, before slipping a finger inside her smooth lips still wet from the adventurous drive.

Suddenly the elevator chimed, announcing a stop. We quickly adjusted ourselves and tried our best to keep a straight face as the doors opened.

“My apologies,” the gentleman at the door offered. “I thought you were going down.”

As the doors began to close, I whispered into my wife’s ear, “I will be, shortly.”  Soon the chime again sounded, this time announcing we had arrived at our destination. As fast as my hands could move, I inserted the key and swung open the room door. Quickly, I steered her towards the bed and lifted her dress. Wrapping her heels behind my head, I dove into her.

My tongue danced across her labia, licking up every bit of her essence I could taste, then separating them to dive as deep as I could. She moaned with every move, grabbing the back of my head and pushing me deeper and deeper. With one hand, I searched upwards to find one of her glorious breasts while the other hand cupped underneath to grab a handful of her ass. Alternating between deeply penetrating pulses of my tongue, and teasingly nibbling her engorged clit, I got her to that moment when it’s her turn to flood me with the taste I loved.

As she lay there on the bed, drained of thought but body still pulsing from pleasure, I stood and stripped to stand before my bride—naked and bare with nothing to hide, just my love and desire for her and a throbbing hardened cock, of course.

From my bag, I brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses. I filled them and presented one to my wife with a passionate kiss. “We’ve only just started,” I whispered.

“As much as I adore seeing you in a dress, I love watching you step out of one.” I sternly commanded with a smile, “From this moment until we leave, your heels are the only thing you’re allowed to wear.”

“As you wish,” she replied, borrowing the phrase I often used to answer one of her requests as she slowly slid the straps off her shoulders and let her dress fall to the floor.

We shared a few more glasses of wine while reminiscing over some of our favorite sexual moments of our marriage, and discussing our thoughts for the evening. Finally, the night grew dark enough to indulge in one of our favorite pastimes—high rise window sex.

More wine, more position changes, more toys, more adventures, more passion, more “I dare you to …”

And one more chapter added to our book of “one of those nights.”