We spent several hours working alongside each other, where I relished his laughter and flirtatiousness. Seeing him joyfully and generously carry bags of mulch, and watch the sweat trickle down his face, caused more arousal than ever imagined. Not because of his strength, but as a man, a gentleman, he worked so hard to help me do the things I can't. Today he was perfect.
As we drove home he offered to get dinner so I could take the warm shower he knew I longed for? Right then I wanted him more than the relaxing pleasure the hot shower offered me. As I stripped the dirt laden clothes off, the steams lull quickly drew me in.
Every cleaning motion of the soap over my sore body reminded me of him…his gentle, exhilarating touches across my breast, the lightness of his upward caress along my inner thigh, his powerful, penetrating yet soothing, massage of my back and neck. This was perfection.
The thoughts of his tenderness and passion caused a sudden realization of how beautiful I am. I began to see what he sees, a woman who deserves only to be loved. In my nakedness, I was not vulnerable because I finally saw the breasts he loves to kiss and caress. I understood how his soft touches on my neck causes me to melt. I understood why the uniquely marital intimacy we share is not simply about sexual release. Of course that "little death" is so meaningful, but the sublime love bring us together gives meaning to the ecstatic please we share.
As I lie in bed, still slightly damp from the rejuvenating pulsation that cleansed me, I hesitatingly opened my robe. My feminine curves, invigorated by the love shown by a good man and the tempting crescendo of the shower's embrace, beckoned for release.
This longing, this build up, was not rooted in my selfish desire for pleasure. I've used moments like these before, availing myself of a quiet house, to self-administer the pulsating relaxation I alone could expertly provide. This moment shares elements of my self-imposed solitude. My control was gone, all the while knowing how he longed for me too. As my one hand caressed my breasts and the other gravitated toward my, now wet, womanhood, another familiar hand tools it's place there.
How long had he been there? Had he watched me navigate this solitary and intimate ritual I guard so closely? In past moments of self-pleasure, devastation would have enveloped me knowing my fantasies often involved other people, and the willful exclusion of my husband. But this moment was different.
Almost knowing my thoughts, he proceeded to grant me the waves of ecstasy I yearned for, and soon his warm kisses brought me there. To feel his mouth enjoying my heavenly pulsations was perfection. For the first time ever, my state of perfect relaxation was undisturbed by the thought of needing to reciprocate. His eyes and demeanor assured me that my relaxation was mine.
It was a true gift. Needless to say, his shower gave me the chance to embrace his needs as well.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2bko70/true_relaxation_fm