Misc. Erotica Short Erotica

[savitasharma]

EARLY MORNING SEX before hubby goes on tour


I rolled over and looked at the clock: four a.m. My husband was asleep next to me. Despite having a husband, I hadn’t gotten any lately. He was stressed about work. On him it didn’t show, but I lived with him and he’d been under so much pressure he was going a little out of his mind. So I could hardly add to it by being demanding. And yet. I was starved for cock. 

There was no delicate way to put it. I was married to the best one I’d ever come across. I thought about it all the time, dreamed of it, yearned for it and fantasized about it, but I wasn’t getting it. I was having orgasms, of course, about three a day, but it was getting to the point where it seemed like work more than fun.


Still, if I didn’t have them, I went a little bit out of my mind. I had hit that age where, unexpectedly, I suddenly had something in common with every teenage boy on the planet: I wanted sex, and I wanted it more or less all the time. I lay quietly and listened to the even rasp of his breathing. I thought about waking him up and begging for it, but no matter how creative I was I knew he wouldn’t appreciate the suggestion. His alarm was set for five a.m. His flight to Sweden was at eight and his presentation at three. My pussy was not at the top of his priority list.
 
Deciding to make myself useful, I slipped out of bed and padded barefoot down the stairs. I flipped on the lights in the kitchen. Airline food, never good at its best, had only gotten worse—unless it was nonexistent altogether, in which case the preoccupied business travelers could just go hungry. I fished some nori out of the cabinet, found some day-old rice in the fridge, added sugar and vinegar to it and chopped up some  vegetables. 

The carrots were definitely phallic and the cucumber almost didn’t make it into his lunch at all. Only eight years of fairly domestic bliss kept it in his lunch and out of my cunt. I sliced the veg rolls into even pieces, put them into a container, added an apple and a Mars bar chocolate, shoved the lot into a brown paper bag and put it by the front door where he couldn’t miss it (I hoped) on his way out.
 
Then, not wanting to go back to bed, I wandered into the library. I sat in the leather armchair and splayed my legs. I let my hand drift through the already wet, dark curls. I wasn’t up to much effort, but I knew if I just lay back and thought of his cock and the things he used to do to me with it, and let my fingers travel back and forth over my clit, it wouldn’t feel like so much of an effort in a few minutes. 

He cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said. In the dim light of morning, I could just make him out standing naked in the doorway.
“Hey back,” I said, dropping my hand, embarrassed for no reason I could think of.

“Oh, don’t stop,” he said. “I got up early to give you a going away present.” 
A quivering sensation began in my stomach and spread downward.
“I thought people got coming-home presents,” I said, fighting to keep my voice even.
 
He smiled, moving toward me, his cock fiercely erect, upright against his belly. “If things go well, you can have one of those as well.” He knelt between my legs, placing his palms on my inner thighs as if to hold me in place, which was funny. A whole lot more than wild horses couldn’t have moved me from the spot.

“Missed you,” he said, tonguing me, starting just above my asshole and licking all the way up to my clit. “Sorry,” he said.
“My fault.”
 
It felt so good just to have him touching me, much less running his tongue all over the most sensitive spots on my body. I was squirming, greedy, wanting everything in the first instant. I was babbling, sex words, love words, pleas. He made a firm point with his tongue and stabbed it into me. I jerked and twisted in his grasp.

“I need your cock,” I said.
“Really?” he inquired politely, but he was sweating, a fine sheen across his chest.

“I thought I might do this for a while. Remember the first time I did this to you? You liked it a lot
then…”
“I want your cock,” I said. “Please give me your cock.”

“Oh, well,” he said, all teasing, false modesty, “If you put it that way.”
With a quick, hard jerk he pulled me off the chair and into his arms, my thighs over his, my back braced against his arms. The sweet, aggressive slide of his flesh into mine made a keening sound start in my throat. I tightened my arms around his neck, sucking on him, his neck, his jaw, wanting it to feel as good to him as it did to me. He thrust into me, controlling it, refusing to move faster. And then he stopped, hard and throbbing inside me. I wailed in protest, but if he wasn’t helping, it wasn’t that easy to get purchase. I tried to knock him over so would be on top, but he withstood me easily.
“Hold still,” he said in my ear, low-voiced. “I want to suck on your nipples.”
He proceeded to, until I was a mindless bundle of nerves, grinding my hips down on him, trying desperately to rub my clit into his pubic hair so I could come. He held me off just enough so I couldn’t.
 
“Easy, baby,” he said, but he was panting. “Let’s make it last awhile.”
“Fuck you,” I said. “Plane to catch, remember?”
“Oh, that,” he said, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, after six long weeks, except having his thick, hot cock inside me for as long as possible.
“Forget the shower.” He licked sweat from my collarbones. “I’ll go like this and the other husbands will be jealous. I’ll have the smell of your pussy all over me and it will drive them crazy.”

His hands tightened on my hips and he resumed thrusting, faster now, less in control. I was done with words, beyond them. They were gone, like someone I used to know. There was just this, the powerful surging of his body into mine, over and over and over again. I raked my nails down his back, something for him to think about on the plane. In answer, he dumped me on the floor, pulling out and shoving back in, lost himself, as if his body had finally remembered that sex was the best stress reliever on earth.
 
Waves roll across the ocean for a long while before they crest and crash onto a long shore. I came, but for the first time in my life I barely noticed: it wasn’t the point. I had what I wanted: his cock inside me, his climax breaking him apart so he lay shuddering against me in the aftermath. He forced himself up, though, arms trembling.
“I have to shower. Do you want to be back in bed?”
“Liar,” I said. “In a minute.”
He’d heard that before. He got me into his arms and, staggering slightly like a drunk, carried me up the stairs and put me back to bed.
“Have a good trip,” I said, reaching up to kiss him, my hand on the back of his neck the last thing to leave his body as he turned away. I felt sleepy, sated with happiness, made of nothing but air and light.