Tag Archives: married erotica

That Red Sweater

You know sometimes you just next to stay home, watch Netflix, and drink wine and let your usual yoga class slip by unattended. That was my night last night except that I also cooked dinner in my new InstaPot, red beans and rice with grass fed turkey sausage. It took a few glasses of wine before I could figure out how to use the darn thing without hurting myself.

While it heated up, I whipped up some mashed cauliflower with real mozzarella cheese. My husband loves that stuff but I accidentally ate it all between sips of my pinot. Oops. Not sure eating an entire head of cauliflower is healthy however you want to spin it. I believe that everything is good in moderation, which also means that everything is bad if taken to the extreme.

Two Pump Chump

We had sex for two minutes this morning. It was two minutes longer than I desired.

It’s funny how you can be so attracted to someone and want to touch all over them constantly yet not feel an immediate pull to fuck. That’s what it feels like for me right now.

It’s a moving target, my daily horniness rating that is On my days it ranges from absolutely nothing to a twinge of interest followed by an extreme annoyance before landing on a momentary acceptance . Occasionally I’m dying to be smothered under my husband’s masculine body and aching with the impact of each progressively deeper thrust, but it’s not as often as I’d like it to be and no where near as much as he wants.

The Best… Pussy

I tore my clothes off last night and pranced across the room to my side of the bed. My husband lowered his phone and watched with anticipation his eyes aglow. I think even a whistle fell from his lips.

When I reached the bed, he was already folding the cover down inviting me to join him in the cozy comforts of our well-worn love nest. I jumped in and on him planting kisses like a happy girl. He smelled like a clean man and his arms felt solid as he wrapped them around me and squeezed. Like puzzle pieces, we fit together so well, so perfectly. But my feet, they were cold like ice and he pushed them away.

Being One with Mr. Right

It was date night last night. We drank and talked in our bedroom before dressing and heading out for dinner. Half naked, I reclined on my vintage white velvet sofa with red wine in my hand, and he relaxed in the matching wing chair sipping coke and whiskey. It had been quite an eventful day.

I laughed and laughed as he told me stories about each of the characters he ran into at the DMV. One of our sons was getting his driver’s license, so they chose Friday afternoon to take the test. It took three hours for their number to be called which left them people watching to kill time.

His Medicine

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, my love,” he said grabbing me into his arms last night. My husband had just come in the door from a long day and was smelling dinner on the stove.

My son joined in the hug and asked “Oh, yeah, what were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about giving you a new little brother!” He replied with a smile and a punch to the gut. Fighting is the language of love between all of the men in our home. “Yep, he’ll look just like me, your mother, and you,” my husband continued on.

Wild West Fantasy

Not a word was said. I walked up to my side of the bed and began to disrobe. First went my pants. I unzipped and tore them off. Then I pulled my shirt off my head. I was left standing in the dimly lit bedroom in just a lace bra and panties, cream colored to […]

Planning Sex

We danced again last night in our bedroom. The competition is in three days. We ordered my husband some fancy dancy handmade leather tango shoes from Italy for the event. It took them three weeks to make and ship, but they arrived two days ago smelling up the kitchen with their leathery freshness when we opened the box.

“Wow,” he exclaimed when he squeezed his foot in one of them. “They fit my feet like a glove. This is amazing. Thanks, babe.”

The Spoiled Brat

We’ve hit that wall, folks. The wall where sex everyday is getting well… labored. Not that we are stale. Not at all.. but that we’re fucking so much it takes even more energy to keep it exciting. Que last night. I just returned from an overnight trip with my son, and my husband told me […]

His Sorry Messed Us Up

“I’m so sorry, babe,” my husband says this morning in bed. We both are on our side and looking each other straight in the early morning eye. “I think I drank too much last night.”

“You think?” I teasingly snapped back. “Why didn’t you just come home when I did?”

“I didn’t think I stayed that much longer, but something about a burning a fire and sipping a few drinks made time fly by.”

Whether or Not You Want to

Well that didn’t last long… the twice-a-day sex my husband proposed yesterday. Filled with such desire after secretly reading my online stories, he planned both an evening and morning routine for us for the rest of the year. But this morning he didn’t touch me.

“You’re cut off,” he said as he dressed.