Sunday, July 8, 2012

Sixty-Second Sexcapade: Can’t Touch This


I’ve been racking my brain for weeks trying to figure out what to give my husband, George for our anniversary –you’d figure that after being married to a person for 12 years, the gift giving would become easier, but it doesn’t.  After all, what do you give a man who has everything?

The one thing that I wish I could give him is time –there never seems to be enough of it.  Between work and the children, friends and family, community obligations or just things that come up in everyday chaos; I’d like to give him a moment in time that he would always remember, and that we could always relive, whenever we felt the inclination.

 When the day starts winding down, and the children had settled for the night, I steal away to the bedroom, leaving George reading or watching the television. After dressing in the new black lace nightgown I bought especially for the occasion, I slip on my favorite black thong, light scented candles and place them around the darkened bedroom and bathroom.  I start the water in the shower –hot, just the way I like it… then I head for George.

Entering the room where he is relaxing after our day together, I stand there watching him…adoring him…loving him, the way I had so many years ago –the day we became one.  And as I did, the night we became man and wife.  

When he notices me across the room, I slip off the thong and saunter over to him, never breaking eye contact.  Taking my panties in hand, I spread the crotch in front of him –he inhales slowly and as he exhales, I watch his nature rise.  George is tempted to touch me, but I stop him and whisper in his ear that the show is about to begin.  I step back from him and remove the nightgown so he can see all of me.  Rubbing my hands over my breasts, I squeeze them before my thumbs stroke each nipple –pulling them taut, then letting them bounce back.

I tell George there is one seat left for the show, and I’ll gladly escort him to his chair.  He follows me to the bathroom and sits.  Once in there, I tell him the final rule: he can’t touch until the show is over.  As I get into the shower, George undresses.  He is fully erect, and I am in rare form; I swear, if George only knew how arousing I find the scent of vanilla riding on the misty steam of a shower, he’d never let me leave the bedroom.

When I step into the shower, I let the hot water fall across my body and rub down my flesh.  I turn away from him.  George is curious as to what I have in store.  I pour out a small amount of Jasmine scented body oil into my palms and begin to massage my ass.  I rub each cheek individually then spread them apart at the same time giving George a sneak peak at the finale.

When I turn to face him, he his stroking his dick in long deliberate strokes…the show isn’t over.  I pour out some more oil, but this time, letting it drip from the bottle onto my breasts –following the streams of water over my body.  I move my hands down across my breasts eventually to my pussy, and massage my clitoris all under his watchful gaze.

I invite him into the shower and squeeze some of the oil onto his chest, allowing it to drip onto him slowly.  I touch him –smoothing the oil into his skin:  his nipples, his neck, his shoulders and arms.  I pour a little more onto him, but this time on his dick.  I take it in hand and stroke him –down his length to his balls, briefly interrupting the flow for a quick juggle, before I rub up his shaft, applying slight pressure along the upper curvature.  I make it to the head where I use two hands –one to continue stroking him, the palm of the other rubbing in a circular motion down on the head.  George is feeling it as am I, and I’m ready to fuck.

I stop the caresses and turn away from him.  I back my ass up to him and shift it from side to side then up and down.  His dick is between my legs.  I bend over and tell him the show is over and he has permission to touch.

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