The day had been long and frustrating; my students ornery-and resentful towards learning anything. However, I knew all would be well. He and I would be alone and together. He would be there to hold me and soothe my frazzled self. I opened the door anticipating his touch, and how his beautiful cock would feel, filling me the way I needed.
I unlocked the door and walked in, calling out. But he was not there. It was six o’clock and we had a date. The house was empty. As I stood in the messy living room, I checked my phone-there was a voicemail message: “Sweetface, I will be late; I have a lot of things to finish here”.
There was no mention of our night. It was a special night and he was going to be late. He always works very hard, often arriving home past eight o’clock at night. However, it was our anniversary. We had been inside each other’s heads now for three years.
At first I started to clean the house. But, I was getting angrier by the second. My jaw tightened. I could feel the pounding in my head and the tears ready to fall.
He had promised he would not be late and I needed his cum to calm me. I always felt better when he released inside me, and he knew it. I was hungry and he was not there to feed me. I was in no mood to clean.
I walked into the kitchen and took out the special occasion vodka. I am not much of a drinker. Liquor always makes me blurry quick. I needed a shot. I took out a small juice class and filled it to midpoint. Down went my drink. “Where the hell is he?”I filled the glass again, and basically threw the liquid down my throat. My insides started to warm, but my anger had not dissipated.
As I drank a third vodka and I felt a tingling. My body needed attention. I needed release. The vodka made my head fuzzy and calmed only the sharp edge of my disappointment. He was not there.
He had admired the dress I wore to work that day, sliding his hand down the neckline, and lightly over my nipples making them stand up. He said I looked beautiful and curvy in it. “Screw him and this stupid dress.”I pulled my dress off roughly; small pearl buttons flying. I am sure I had ruined the lovely black and white silk dress.
I unhooked the back of my pretty black lace bra, releasing my breasts and sensitive nipples. I unzipped my high heeled black boots. Naked now with the exception of my black tights; my skin felt warm. I peeled off my tights. I rarely wear panties with tights or stockings. I like the stimulation. The tights were still damp from the tease of my tights throughout the workday.
It was seven o’clock; I went upstairs. I caught sight of myself in the bedroom mirror my curly red hair was wild, more wild than usual from my rough treatment of my dress earlier. My face was flushed from drinks and high emotions. I looked pretty darned fuckable. He loved when I looked wild like this. “Primitive,” he called it.
In my forties, my body and sexual reactions have changed for the better. My breasts are fuller and have a gentle hang to them. My stomach is not quite flat, but soft, with a curve to it. I have never been a hard body and have always had curves. However, the curves I have now have never been as womanly.
My hips are rounded, almost in an exaggerated manner, with an ass no longer flat as it had been in my twenties. My pussy is constantly waiting for him, wet when we talk, and soaked when we touch. I have nipples that are pointy, sensitive, and dark pink in color; always in search of his mouth. Oh yes, and when I cum something else happens, something special. When I have an especially intense orgasm, I gush a warm and sweet smelling liquid and soak his cock, or fill his mouth.
ALONE, angry and horny; I lay on my back, a pillow under my hips. One hand is and stroking my slippery and sensitive cunt, the other using fingers to pull and pinch my nipples, making them longer. I explore me as he would. I am dripping. Too slippery to cum and annoyed, I go to the bathroom and get a washcloth for more friction.
The washcloth would not have been needed had I not been alone. His fingers had the roughness I needed, and his delicious cock always hit my insides just right, “Fucker.”
Using the friction of the washcloth and the movement of my fingers, it started to build. The pressure started. I moved my fingers, trying to find the right place. “Damn him.” I thought. He was better at my body than I was. He knows how to work my body, how to get the right combination to make me soak his cock.
As I focus on the sensitivity of my pussy and nipples, difficulties decrease, a climax feels closer. The friction is better. I was hitting the right spot, at last.
In my mind, he was there; above me, his breath a whisper. “Oh wait, sweet girl, don’t rush.” He took over. The washcloth gone and replaced by his fingers. He was tracing my slit with fingertips as I fell towards my blessed release. Now his cock head teasing my pussy lips, pushing inside, opening me.
I rocked and thrust upward, feeling myself swell. So good, the rhythm was perfect. Dots of heat were exploding across my chest. Cumming felt like clouds and lightning in my head, soft and hard, mashed together, such a release. “Fuck yes”, I moaned as I came with a gush, smiling, warm and shaky. As I opened my eyes, his blue eyes smiled back at me from across the room. His gorgeous cock looked shiny and slick as he stroked himself. Before emptying the delicious cum he groaned, “Happy Anniversary Sweetface”.
How delicious this is to read
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