Time go in the way back machine for this week’s Wicked Wednesday, y’all. And I do mean, waaaaaay back…to the marriage years, those years I never write about…ever. The challenge is…well, quite challenging. I’m not going to tell you the specifics until the very end (no cheating and scrolling down!).
Lying on my stomach, my feet swinging in the air behind me, I could feel myself sinking into the book in my hands. I turned the page. This story was better than the last. Warmth gathered between my legs. I squirmed against the blankets a bit, my eyes glued to the page in front of me. I was riveted by his steely shaft and her creamy loins. I didn’t want it to end.
“Um…hey. Can I come in?”
A quick glance up and a silent nod. Nothing, not even my husband, was going to stop me from finishing this scene.
I felt the shift in the mattress as he laid down, his six foot plus frame taking up a lot of space in the bed. He settled his head in his hand and watched me read for a few moments. I waited until I finished the chapter before looking in his direction. One of my eyebrows cocked up in a “What do you want?” motion. His reached out on hand and stroked my arm, a hopeful smile on his face.
Mentally, I sighed. “Not tonight” was on the tip of my tongue when I noticed the warmth between my thighs hadn’t dissipated, instead growing stronger the longer I’d read.
He beamed with pleasure. I mentally calculated the amount of days that had passed since the last time we’d had sex. Oops, it had been more than a couple of weeks. Yeah, I better do this so that he’d stay in a decent mood for a couple more weeks.
We each stood on our respective sides of the bed, stripping quickly. The boys were in bed, but I locked the door just in case. I could feel his eyes on my bare skin, burning holes into my flesh. My body warmed and became flushed, pink with embarrassment and pleasure. I could feel his appraisal of my breasts, and my nipples tightened in response. I knew he studied the curve of my ass, and I allowed a slight sway to creep into my hips.
I laid on the bed, flat on my back, and looked over at him. His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. He turned off the light, believing I cared if it was on. His body covered mine.
Wet, sloppy kisses trailed down my neck and over my taut nipples. I closed my eyes, sighing with pleasure. His hand skimmed across my stomach, my muscles clenched in response. He pushed two fingers into my body, once…twice. My pussy, wet and hot, opened at the invasion. His touch was unrefined but rough. My eyes widened with surprise and pleasure.
Wordlessly, he grabbed his cock and forced it into my body. Not quite ready, he stroked my pussy with his cock. I whimpered with pleasure. He stopped for a second. My hips pushed forward, encouraging him to continue. He sank in deep, burying his face in the pillow with a muffled groan. His weight took my breath away. To conserve air and energy, I stayed as silent as possible, groaning quietly every time he thrust his cock into me.
One thrust. Two. Three. Ahhhh, he was hitting the exact right spot. Don’t stop. This feels so good. On the fourth thrust, his body tightened and he grunted his pleasure in my ear.
I looked over at the clock on the night stand. Four minutes from start to finish, from the moment I put my book down to now.
He kissed my cheek, whispered words of love, and rolled over. Within seconds he was snoring.
I wonder if I can get him to wash the dishes now. Ah well, at least I can read my book. I slid out of bed, cleaned myself up, dressed, and grabbed my book. I had loins and shafts to get back to.
So this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt was to write about bad sex in a way that’s still erotic. As the person who lived it, I don’t know that this is necessarily erotic, but I’ll let you decide. What do you think?