It's not yet dawn, although in my dreams I manage to glimpse that faint glow that already announces a sunny and hot day from early on.
I'm getting comfortable to keep sleeping for a bit longer, at least until the cell phone alarm goes off, and that's when I feel it. A erection. My husband has it stopped.
How long has it been since I woke up with such a pleasant surprise?
It's not that it won't get hard, but after ten years of marriage, the passion has lost its intensity.
We used to make love almost every day as newlyweds. Any moment was good for sex. In the morning, at night, even during siesta time.
But with time the frequency went stretching and today we just manage to maintain it once a week, maybe twice, but already without that spontaneity which is so satisfying.
Now it's more like an obligation, something we have to do because we're a couple. That's why I was surprised to feel that way in the morning, so good and with renewed libido.
But although it wouldn't be something common in our awakenings, I understood what motivated him. The day before he had made a lightning trip to Rosario to meet potential investors for the new company he was forming and thus make his old dream of labor autonomy come true. As it seemed (and felt) that the success of such a meeting was positively influencing his state more than ever.
From behind like I am, I settle against his body and leaning on his booty I cool down slowly, feeling it grow between my buttocks.
-Mmmm...! What do we have here? It seems like today is the day to arrive late at work- I say and turning around, I support my breasts against his chest, kissing him in that way that only those who share the same bed every night can do it.
Although I've always sworn to him that what attracted him most to me when we met wasn't my tits, I know they're his weakness. So I lift up my Minnie-printed camiseta, which I wear as a pajama, and stamp them all over his face.
Incapable of resisting, she grabs me and pressing one against the other, bites me with too much tenderness. Sometimes I wish she would bite me hard, make me hurt, leave my fingers and teeth marked from pure passion. But no..., she savors me slowly, softly, as if she's going to waste them if she sucks me with too much enthusiasm.
I like it too, I like feeling his lips imprisoning my nipples and savoring them as if they were the most select fruit. I like feeling his tongue sliding around my areolas, painting them with saliva, and his teeth biting here and there, with that delicacy that, coming from him, makes me shudder just as much as the wildest and most furious outburst.
I slide my hand inside his pajama pants and grab his cock. Hard, hot, swollen. I move it around, feeling my fingers soon get wet due to his excitement.
She lets go of my breasts and goes back to kissing me, long and deep, a kiss of love, not lust like the ones I'm used to.
When it's hot I sleep with a tank top and panties on. So when he gets comfortable on top of me, all I have to do is take it off, spread my legs and receive him with that surrender and docility that only a wife who loves her husband can manifest.
A gentle push, firm, sure and we melt into one body, into a single entity, indistinguishable the one from the other. And for that instant, in which time and space seem to dissolve around us, I am He and He is I, both of us are one, husband and wife, lovers despite everything and everyone.
Well positioned between my legs, in that place that is his by right of his own, he makes love to me with that sweetness that undoes any claim I might make regarding it.
I like rough sex, yes, I like being grabbed like a slut, being hurt, feeling the rigor of masculinity, but I also like how my husband loves me. For others to break my ass and fill my face with cum are for them, he corresponds to loving and making me feel his woman.
That's why we make love face to face, kissing each other, searching for each other with our eyes, enjoying each other without guilt or betrayal, knowing that love is what we can always find in the gaze of the other.
While I feel him sliding inside of me, flowing into that sanctuary that will always be his home, I take off my shirt, to feel his skin against mine, leaving myself intoxicated by that sensation which despite the passage of years and limited availability, remains as intense as it was the first time.
-Am I above? - I ask him knowing that it's his preferred position.
Okay, so we change positions. Now I'm on top, my tits falling heavily, which is what he likes most, seeing them shake when I move. So I give him what he likes, the shake it off.
Here above I am Queen and Sovereign, absolute dominator of her body and mine. But I don't move like Marita, the unfaithful one, rather like Mariela, the wife, more contained, more moderate, although equally effective.
As usual, my husband arrives first, intensely, passionately, dissolving like a volcano inside of me. As for me, it takes me a bit more, but that's my problem, I know, because I enjoy the whole process, from kisses to caresses, but when the moment of climax comes, that supreme instant in which our love should be reclaimed, I have no choice but to fake an orgasm.
It's something that happens only with him, since when I'm with other men I'm a machine for having orgasms, you know. I've never had to fake it with a lover, but with my husband I always end up in debt. Which doesn't mean I don't love him, it just means that marital sex is unsatisfying for me.
Of course if I could enjoy it with him as much as I've enjoyed it with other men, then Maritainfiel wouldn't exist and I wouldn't be here telling you all this.
After the love, what I like most is to snuggle up between his arms, my preferred place in the world, there where nothing nor anyone can hurt me.
Of course we both arrived late to our jobs, although in this case the lateness is properly justified. After all, at least for me, a morning with my husband is not something that happens every day.
I'm getting comfortable to keep sleeping for a bit longer, at least until the cell phone alarm goes off, and that's when I feel it. A erection. My husband has it stopped.
How long has it been since I woke up with such a pleasant surprise?
It's not that it won't get hard, but after ten years of marriage, the passion has lost its intensity.
We used to make love almost every day as newlyweds. Any moment was good for sex. In the morning, at night, even during siesta time.
But with time the frequency went stretching and today we just manage to maintain it once a week, maybe twice, but already without that spontaneity which is so satisfying.
Now it's more like an obligation, something we have to do because we're a couple. That's why I was surprised to feel that way in the morning, so good and with renewed libido.
But although it wouldn't be something common in our awakenings, I understood what motivated him. The day before he had made a lightning trip to Rosario to meet potential investors for the new company he was forming and thus make his old dream of labor autonomy come true. As it seemed (and felt) that the success of such a meeting was positively influencing his state more than ever.
From behind like I am, I settle against his body and leaning on his booty I cool down slowly, feeling it grow between my buttocks.
-Mmmm...! What do we have here? It seems like today is the day to arrive late at work- I say and turning around, I support my breasts against his chest, kissing him in that way that only those who share the same bed every night can do it.
Although I've always sworn to him that what attracted him most to me when we met wasn't my tits, I know they're his weakness. So I lift up my Minnie-printed camiseta, which I wear as a pajama, and stamp them all over his face.
Incapable of resisting, she grabs me and pressing one against the other, bites me with too much tenderness. Sometimes I wish she would bite me hard, make me hurt, leave my fingers and teeth marked from pure passion. But no..., she savors me slowly, softly, as if she's going to waste them if she sucks me with too much enthusiasm.
I like it too, I like feeling his lips imprisoning my nipples and savoring them as if they were the most select fruit. I like feeling his tongue sliding around my areolas, painting them with saliva, and his teeth biting here and there, with that delicacy that, coming from him, makes me shudder just as much as the wildest and most furious outburst.
I slide my hand inside his pajama pants and grab his cock. Hard, hot, swollen. I move it around, feeling my fingers soon get wet due to his excitement.
She lets go of my breasts and goes back to kissing me, long and deep, a kiss of love, not lust like the ones I'm used to.
When it's hot I sleep with a tank top and panties on. So when he gets comfortable on top of me, all I have to do is take it off, spread my legs and receive him with that surrender and docility that only a wife who loves her husband can manifest.
A gentle push, firm, sure and we melt into one body, into a single entity, indistinguishable the one from the other. And for that instant, in which time and space seem to dissolve around us, I am He and He is I, both of us are one, husband and wife, lovers despite everything and everyone.
Well positioned between my legs, in that place that is his by right of his own, he makes love to me with that sweetness that undoes any claim I might make regarding it.
I like rough sex, yes, I like being grabbed like a slut, being hurt, feeling the rigor of masculinity, but I also like how my husband loves me. For others to break my ass and fill my face with cum are for them, he corresponds to loving and making me feel his woman.
That's why we make love face to face, kissing each other, searching for each other with our eyes, enjoying each other without guilt or betrayal, knowing that love is what we can always find in the gaze of the other.
While I feel him sliding inside of me, flowing into that sanctuary that will always be his home, I take off my shirt, to feel his skin against mine, leaving myself intoxicated by that sensation which despite the passage of years and limited availability, remains as intense as it was the first time.
-Am I above? - I ask him knowing that it's his preferred position.
Okay, so we change positions. Now I'm on top, my tits falling heavily, which is what he likes most, seeing them shake when I move. So I give him what he likes, the shake it off.
Here above I am Queen and Sovereign, absolute dominator of her body and mine. But I don't move like Marita, the unfaithful one, rather like Mariela, the wife, more contained, more moderate, although equally effective.
As usual, my husband arrives first, intensely, passionately, dissolving like a volcano inside of me. As for me, it takes me a bit more, but that's my problem, I know, because I enjoy the whole process, from kisses to caresses, but when the moment of climax comes, that supreme instant in which our love should be reclaimed, I have no choice but to fake an orgasm.
It's something that happens only with him, since when I'm with other men I'm a machine for having orgasms, you know. I've never had to fake it with a lover, but with my husband I always end up in debt. Which doesn't mean I don't love him, it just means that marital sex is unsatisfying for me.
Of course if I could enjoy it with him as much as I've enjoyed it with other men, then Maritainfiel wouldn't exist and I wouldn't be here telling you all this.
After the love, what I like most is to snuggle up between his arms, my preferred place in the world, there where nothing nor anyone can hurt me.
Of course we both arrived late to our jobs, although in this case the lateness is properly justified. After all, at least for me, a morning with my husband is not something that happens every day.
20 comentários - Morninger...
Tremendo! Relato, me encantó!
Pues menos mal que le eres infiel, porque si no, vaya desperdicio jajajaaj
Saludos
Muy bye relato querida, ME ENCANTÓ!! +10
FELICES FIESTAS QUERIDA!!
Besos
LEON