The stuff of wet dreams

I was still sat on the sofa when She came downstairs some two hours later.
Her: Ok?
Me: Hmm …
It wasn’t a Hmm… of satisfaction, but rather one that said I don’t know. 
Her: Confused?
Me: Tired, confused and uncomfortable.
The uncomfortable referred to my junk: my balls ached because I hadn’t cum and my helmet was sore where the condom had rubbed. But it was not a line of conversation she chose to pursue.
Her: Oh. It was the right thing to do?
Me: I hope so. Ask me in a month.
Her: Last night was good and I’ve been dreaming about you.
Me: What were you dreaming.
She floundered at the question.
Me: Sorry. I shouldn’t pry.
Her: It was good.

The conversation went somewhere else, and ultimately to …
Her: I think I’ll have a bath.
Me: I think I’ll have a shower.
Her: A cold one?
Me: Indeed.
And it very nearly was. We moved house a while back and I think this must have been the first time we’d tried to use the bath at the same time as the shower. The bath won the battle for hot water.

I went back upstairs with the information. She was gazing out of the window, listening to the radio, as the bath filled, still in Her dressing gown. I stood behind Her and wrapped my arms around Her. She leant into me. My hand naturally met Her tit and my dick swelled against Her back. She didn’t flinch. I didn’t expect that. I massaged Her tit. She sighed with pleasure and reached back to stroke my cock.
Me: We could share a bath?
Her: Ok.
I didn’t expect that.
We looked at the bath.
Me: It’d be a bit of a squash.
Her: Yeah.
Me: Maybe not then.
I turned to walk away. But it seemed crazy to miss such an opportunity.
Me: But then again.
She smiled.
Me: I’ll get another towel.

We squeezed into the bath, Her lying back against me, my erection squashed and twitching between us.
I reached for her boob again and stroked it.
Not a hint of complaint.
I didn’t expect that.
I tweaked her nip, and still not a hint of displeasure.
I ventured south and ran my fingers through Her bush, but still nothing to say No.
I nudged my hand between Her thighs and She parted them … as much as she could in the confines of the bath.
I reached further and my finger found its way into Her pussy. Even beneath the surface of the warm bath water I could feel She was slick with juices. As I squeezed my palm down on Her mound, my finger forcing its way deeper into Her quim, She arched up, pushing against my hand and encouraging my finger further into Her tight hole. All the while my other hand was busy elsewhere.
She bucked as my finger circled inside Her, but the one thing I couldn’t easily do with my hand at that angle was to get my free fingers or thumb to Her clit. This plainly wasn’t a problem from Her point of view, and eventually I eased off and She relaxed silently in my arms.
Her: This all seems to be about me. What about you?
Me: You can do whatever you want.
Her: What do you want?
Conscious that this was a request for a request …
Me: How long can you hold your breath?
With no little effort in the confinement of the bath, She rolled over and went down on me. Her blowjobs are far from the best in town as She barely takes any length in Her mouth (all deep throat action will sadly remain purely a fantasy) but between the attentions of Her lips, tongue and teeth, I struggled not to thrash around in the bath. (Sadly She resisted all my thrusts that hinted of progressing any further into Her mouth.)

After a while, as She paused for breath …
Her: What do you want?
Me: Can we save this till this evening? I really want to cum in your pussy.
She consented, we kissed (I could taste my pre-cum on Her lips).
Her: I’m surprised the DJ didn’t it you off.
The weekend breakfast DJ on our preferred music station is one I find particularly irritating. She was covering extra shows over Xmas and had been simpering her usual regurgitated hyperbole as my Wife sucked on my cock.
Me: She nearly did for a while.
Her: Maybe that’s a good way to improve her show?
We laughed.

Eventually, as the bath started to chill, I left Her in the bath while I went for that shower.

A little later back in the bedroom, She was dressed in just The Infamous Red. I put my arms around Her and placed one hand deliberately on each arse cheek.
Her: Stop it.
Me: Well if you will parade around in that.
Her: Something for you to think about.
I gave Her arse the gentlest of slaps.

3 Responses to “The stuff of wet dreams”

  1. Hmmm! Sounding more and more promissing!
    I hope this trend continues!
    🙂

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