True story from last night. After coming home from work, I went to the gym for a short session – a quick jog to get my heart rate up and a couple of sets of squats and lunges. I am very comfortable with my figure… so I’m not looking to change anything. I am 5’8″ and 125lbs, with small breasts and a round ass. I am lucky that most of my fat goes there. When I got home, I dry brushed my skin (keeps it glowing), and jumped in the shower. I shower with warm water first while I wash my hair, in order to get used to the temperature. Then I slowly make it hotter and hotter, in preparation for exfoliating my skin. The steam from the hot water helps that process. After that, I turn it as cold as I can handle. That is supposed to encourage blood circulation and stimulate the lymphatic system. Yesterday however, I lingered in the hot phase. The sensation was too good, and I decided to grab my vibrator and finally put it to use in the shower. I’m always kind of skeptical of “waterproof”electric devices so I’d been avoiding it. I turned it on and leaned back on the walls of the shower as I put it between my pussy lips. I fantasized about my husband slowly jerking himself off. His fingers, those perfect fingers that have given me so much pleasure, gently stroking his cock. I love it when he finger fucks me, and how violent that can feel. I love imagining the contrast when I watch him jerking off slowly, almost gently. Fucking hell I am getting dizzy just thinking about it as I type. I imagined what he would be looking at. I pictured him on the couch, shirtless but in jeans, no shoes, comfortable, and relaxed. I would be on the bed… maybe another guy would be eating my pussy. I would tell my husband to take it slow, barely making the words out of my mouth as I moan. I want to have the pleasure of watching him jerk off for as long as possible. I stopped. I knew I would cum soon if I kept going, so I forced myself to rinse the vibrator and set it down. I was weak in the knees. Suddenly I realized I had created a sauna of my bathroom, and I needed to finish the shower while my legs could still hold me.
I got out and composed myself. My post-bathroom routine is elaborate. I first applied a facial mask that’s meant to cleanse the skin using fruit acids. While it works, I lather coconut oil over my legs, ass, arms, fingers especially (i want them to glisten), neck (another key area – ladies you know what I mean), and breasts. After a couple of minutes, I slowly massaged off the facial mask using a warm wash cloth. I applied a toner, a serum, and a facial cream. I put some coconut oil on the tips of my long dark hair and put it up with a gray towel that compliments my blue-gray eyes (Yes, I noticed that. Don’t judge.)
I looked at the time. Still a good 30 minutes until my husband would be home. I thought about watching a tv show, but decided to do a quick vacuum instead. Our apartment is small and minimal, so it takes about 15 minutes. I put on a black lace thong, quickly vacuumed, and then put away a couple of things I’d left laying out the night before. When I was finished, I looked around the apartment and gave myself props. It looked as good as I felt. Fresh.
In a few minutes, I heard a knock on the door gently in a particular rhythm. That’s our signal, I know it’s him. I smile to myself lightly as I think about what he’s going to say – “how could you open the door naked? What if it’s someone else?” Part of me even considers it, but I’m happy to take that risk anyway. Who would it be? Maintenance? That would be hilarious. And hot. I almost wish I had the time to fantasize about that, but instead I swung open the door and smirked. His eyes seem to greet my tits, not my eyes. I feel a slight pang of panic in my chest as to what I’m inviting. He reaches his arms around my waist and pulls me towards him. I can tell he’s had a drink. His aggression is unusual. I put my arms around his neck and breathe him in. I want to kiss his chest but his button down shirt is in my way. I try to calm myself down and take a moment to appreciate his immaculate work clothes. He’s so neat. “Step back” I think to myself. I’m already getting wet, and I don’t want to lose myself just yet.
He offers to make margaritas to drink on the deck. It’s the perfect idea- it is just about sunset and the views of the city are incredible from the deck. I throw on a simple sundress. The temperature was probably about 70 degrees and there was a light breeze. It’s unseasonably warm, really. We sit down outside and chat about nothing in particular. After he finishes his drink, he comes up behind me and kisses my cheek. His beard is soft, and I bring my arm back and around his neck to press him closer to my face. He kisses all over my face and down to my neck and his hands reach down to my breasts. I imagine he appreciated the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra, although he must be getting used to that now. After years of asking me not to wear one I’ve started complying. It feels great and I don’t mind that people stare as I probably would have when I was a teenager. “Let’s go” he says. “I’m not finished with my drink”, I whine. There’s not much left but I’m enjoying myself. I didn’t think to look if he was hard, but he was probably getting there. I sit up straight and ask him for a massage (one of his many talents). He gives me a short and soft massage, sitting back down at the table after a minute or so. We chat for a minute longer about weekend plans and I’m ready to go back inside at this point.
When we get in, he pours himself a whiskey, lights a cigar, and takes a seat on the couch. I sit across from him on the ottoman. “Get naked” he says. I smile and say no, as I lay flat on my back and begin to share with him what I did earlier in the shower. I bend my knees and my dress falls to lay across my hips, my legs completely exposed. He can probably see my thong at this point as well, as I roll to my side and rest my head on my arm while telling him my story, staring into his eyes. He wants details, but I won’t give them. He probably wants to know if I came, who I imagined the other guy was, if i finger fucked myself…
As he comes to the end of his drink, he stands up and walks over to me. “You want to eat me out baby?” I ask as I slide off my thong. He kneels down. He starts off gently, then slowly wrapping his lips around my clit and sucking. He twirls his tongue around it. He tugs at it again with his lips. His hands slide under my ass and he pulls me closer to him. I sit up slightly and pull my dress over my head and throw it somewhere. I ask him if he likes the way my cunt smells. I can’t remember how he replies; maybe I wasn’t even listening. I was in ecstasy. He is still teasing my clit with his tongue until finally I say “wait” and turn around so that my face is where my legs were. I’m laying flat, right under him as he is on his knees on the floor behind my head. I want to kiss him.
Everything feels different this way, somehow disorientating. He grabs my breasts as we begin to kiss upside down. I’m sucking on his bottom lip and he’s battling to force his tongue in my mouth. He pulls away from me and takes his shirt off. My heartbeat quickens and my hands immediately attack his chest. I reach up my head to kiss anywhere and everywhere. I feel suffocated and can’t stop wiggling beneath him. He’s kissing my tits and sucking on my nipples, he slaps my pussy and runs his hands up and down on the sides of my stomach. We make out vigorously, but he keeps pulling his lips away and burying my face in his chest and stomach. I reach my hand behind my head in search for his cock. I grab it through his pants and try to pull it towards me. He takes the cue and brings his lower body forcefully towards my face. He pushes his cock against my cheeks and rubs. I open my mouth and try to suck through the fabric. Eventually he wants more. He rips off his pants and I take his cock in my mouth. I’m still laying on my back, with my head slightly over the edge of the ottoman, and he is kneeling behind me. I feel his cock hit my throats roughly, but I love deepthroating so I keep going. I grab the base of his cock to get some more control over his thrusts. My knees are bent and he’s got his hand between my thighs. I feel like I’m going to cum so I reach my hand between my legs. I start rubbing my clit hard and slam my legs down flat. He slides his hand under my ass again and brings his fingers close. Close to my cunt and to my asshole. He’s teasing me, rummaging around my wet lips and sliding his wet fingers back between my ass cheeks and I know I’m going to cum soon. I’ve stopped blowing him at this point because there’s too much going on. I am staring up at his cock and doing my best to continue licking it on the underside of the shaft as I cum hard. I’m shaking and moaning and I can’t remember anything else except that he ran his hand all over my soaked pussy to check how wet the orgasm had made me. He must have been satisfied with what he felt because he didn’t give me any time to compose myself. He seemed to have lost his patience and looked ready to fuck.
He stood up, went around to my legs and I slid myself closer to help as he pulled me towards him. He entered me and I put my legs around him. As he starts fucking me, I reach down between our sweaty bodies and put my fingertips under the base of his cock and pushed up. That intensifies the feeling for me and I’m rubbing my clit with my other hand. We’re not kissing, we’re not looking into each other’s eyes anymore. The eye contact that I had maintained earlier when I was telling him about my masturbating in the shower is long gone. He’s just looking down between us and watching his cock thrust in and out of my drenched pussy as I use his cock to pleasure myself. He finally pulls out and cums on my stomach. I move my hand to spread it over myself and feel my body melting into the cushions of the ottoman. I notice that I’m exhausted in the best way.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/71tf8n/with_my_28_husband_28_last_night_fm
Hot story!
Definitely a true story. I couldn’t stop thinking about last night all day.
First half I thought I was on /r/skincareaddiction but somehow that aroused me more
>True story from last night. After coming home from work, I went to the gym for a short session – a quick jog to get my heart rate up and a couple of sets of squats and lunges. I am very comfortable with my figure… so I’m not looking to change anything. I am 5’8″ and 125lbs, with small breasts and a round ass. I am lucky that most of my fat goes there. When I got home, I dry brushed my skin (keeps it glowing), and jumped in the shower. I shower with warm water first while I wash my hair, in order to get used to the temperature. Then I slowly make it hotter and hotter, in preparation for exfoliating my skin. The steam from the hot water helps that process. After that, I turn it as cold as I can handle. That is supposed to encourage blood circulation and stimulate the lymphatic system.
Great story and all but this part reminded me of the beginning of American Psycho
>My post-bathroom routine is elaborate. I first applied a facial mask that’s meant to cleanse the skin using fruit acids. While it works, I lather coconut oil over my legs, ass, arms, fingers especially (i want them to glisten), neck (another key area – ladies you know what I mean), and breasts. After a couple of minutes, I slowly massaged off the facial mask using a warm wash cloth. I applied a toner, a serum, and a facial cream. I put some coconut oil on the tips of my long dark hair and put it up with a gray towel that compliments my blue-gray eyes (Yes, I noticed that. Don’t judge.)
>
Yep definite Patrick Bateman vibes. There’s no way you haven’t seen that movie
Also why would your husband knock on the door to his apartment?