Our alarm went off and we assumed the puzzle piece position of our love. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Stella, my queen, my whore, my lover. I’m so in love with you.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day my king. I love you so much too.”
I ordered my own red, pink and white roses, and planned to make tacos for dinner. I hope he doesn’t buy chocolate hearts and dorky cards. He should know at this point I’m picky and only eat a few types of dark chocolate.
The fancy silky red robe I purchased for this day was packed in my film bag from a shoot earlier in the week, and the pink bra and panties that were supposed to go with it are dirty. Should I try to wash them? Nah!
This Valentine’s was shaping up to be just another day in paradise, the perfectly mundane and real way to celebrate our love. Around here, it feels like everyday in Valentine’s Day.
As we were getting ready for the day, I sang him a song with my deepest alto voice starring into his puppy dog brown eyes. A few moments were a little too vulnerable to keep the connection with our eyes, so I sang straight into his ear.
My Funny Valentine.
Sweet Comic Valentine.
You make me smile with my heart.
Your lips so laughable,
unphotographable,
and your my favorite work of art.
Is your figure less that Greek,
is your mouth a little weak,
when you open it to speak, are you smart? Are you smart?
But DON’T change a hair for me, NOT if you care for me,
STAY little Valentine, STAY Please stay……
Each Day is VALENTINE’s Day.
We’d come together in our embrace and our eyes met in the bathroom mirror.
“I’d love to stay, sweet Stella, but I’ve gotta go. Love ya!” He kissed me and grabbed his wallet and phone. I grabbed my phone to practice my song once more on a few friends. I’m known for calling and singing to cheer people up.
The day progressed without a hitch. I walked, wrote, filmed my series, ate lunch, had a meeting, then filmed some more. Around 4:30 everything changed when my husband came in with a bag from a jewelry store.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my beautiful Valentine,” he said handing me the black and silver bag.
I was stunned, speechless really. I truly wasn’t expecting a present. We’ve been together long enough that holidays are not automatic gift giving days. We also tend to purchase what we need when we need it around here. I didn’t purchase him a gift at all and chose to celebrate the day with sweet kisses, a Mexican dinner and some lingerie. Maybe I’d give him a good blow job. That’s the best gift in the world to him!
Pearls. He bought me a beautiful set of matching pearl earrings, a necklace and a bracelet. I’ve always wanted real pearls and have never made it a priority to purchase an entire set. I was thrilled as he helped me get the jewelry on and not surprised to see his dick harden in his pants.
“I also made us reservations for sushi,” he said.
“Oh? I was going to make tacos.”
“Nah, save that for tomorrow. Let’s go have a nice evening without the kids. I got some wine too.”
And the pouring started. It took me a few moments to figure out what I wanted to wear that would show off my new jewelry. Pearls! I’ve had a few cheap pearl earrings before, but these were the real deal. Each beautiful speck of sea filtering goodness was perfectly unsymmetrical.
Our joke about pearls goes back to our dating days when I used to refer to pearls as the quintessential housewife jewelry, the white strand of female purity and class. Any time I needed to designate a situation in those terms, I’d simply say with her pearls on and my husband would laugh knowing what I meant.
He now gave me some pearls. It was sweet and as a bit timely considering his freak out about the lack of dinner the other night. Was he trying to say something? Who cares. I look terrific in pearls.
Dinner was fabulous although I drank more than I should have. Stumbling into the house, I changed into my lingerie and silk robe only to find my husband already in bed and verging on sleep.
“Hey, Mr. We haven’t had sex yet.” I sat down next to him and began unbuckling his belt. I wedged his pants off, then unbuttoned his shirt while he eyed me lovingly.
“I love you, my queen. My body is just so fatigued from this week. I’m truly just tired.” He turned over giving me his back. I laughed a bit at the irony as we’ve been fucking everyday in 2019, but on Valentine’s Day we end up not making love. Oh well. I decided to giving him a deep massage on his back instead.
Something snapped after his rub down though. He turned over and motioned for me to suck his dick, which I did happily greeting his hardness with my warm juicy mouth. I took him all in and nearly choked when he grew in my throat.
Hands started touching me, untying my robe and shifting my panties to the side. I was wet, and it made his dick harder. I licked him up and down and all around and gave him the fuck me eyes he knows and adores.
My panties came off and I mount his manly body like a champ. I slid him inside heaven and he groaned with pure ecstasy. My breasts were in his face and bouncing as I rode his dick fast, real fast, swerving like a stripper on the pole. He was definitely awake now.
I popped off and laid on the bed next to him reaching my finger down to my clit. I was wearing only the shield of my red robe and the new set of pearls. “I want you to watch,” I said starting my routine of circular sensations. My pussy was wet and hairless and opened enough for him to see it all. That’s when the story started.
“You’re that girl who’s getting her pussy painted at Fantasy Fest and guys are all around you watching, taking pictures, and making deals to fuck you. I charge good money,” his story continued as he stood up on his knees, moved between my legs, and slowly slid himself inside of me.
Oh this fantasy. We’d talked about this one since the time we went to Key West for the week-long nudity extravaganza. My husband made me strip down to only bikini bottoms and dance on the bar at Coyote Ugly. I guess he didn’t make me, but let’s just say he strongly encouraged it and paid one of the professional dancers to give me a lap dance and kiss me in front of everyone.
Fantasy Fest was a trip. People walked around almost naked, some in weird costumes and others painted from head to toe in glitter or gold or blue or like an alien. My husband remembered going one year and seeing a woman in public with her legs spread getting the skin all around her pussy painted. They were turning her female opening into a tiger’s mouth with teeth and all. Of course an audience was growing around the scene as guys from all walks of life watched in disbelief as this woman exposed herself to anyone who wanted to see.
“Every once in a while you’d come up and stick your dick in my mouth,” I added, “just to prove I belong to you.”
“You do belong to me. You’re my whore, my pussy. I control who gets to fuck you.” He pulled his body over me and plunged his dick down my throat leaving my legs spread in bed and my pussy all exposed. “Suck that dick like I taught you.”
Fuck I love it when he speaks to me this way. I love his dominance and my submission. It makes me cum like nothing else which of course I did once he returned to my pleasure center, pushed my legs back to pop my pussy up and banged her like there’s no tomorrow. I cried out in ecstasy. “Yes, Yes, Oh my God. I love you, my king.”
Moments later he was filling my little pussy up with his liquid love, slapping her with his hand as he pulled out as if to say good girl. I shivered from the jolts of energy pulsing from my crotch. He rolled off, and I closed my legs feeling satisfied and ready to watch my favorite show on Netflix.
“Mom, my ear hurts,” my son whined just then at the door to our room. I got up, tied by robe and let him in. Guess our Valentine’s is ending with mommy time. Life has a way of always getting in.