บท 10: THE SPIRITUAL
As is my usual pattern for a Sunday morning, I found myself lusting after my own husband. Only a little more so today, as it was Christmas morning, and Chris was dressed in his new Christmas sweater and a few other items I put together for him. As he stood up front and led our little rural congregation, which was packed and quite festive for the holiday, in some hymns and carols I had a little trouble suppressing the dampness between my legs. Visions and memories of being ravished by this wonderful man just a few hours before church kept intruding, till I finally just gave in to them and gazed up at my man lovingly. When he caught my eye he blushed a deep crimson, but he kept on singing and directing, even reading scripture without a hitch. But I'm kinda glad he was standing behind the pulpit, for the pants he had on were not the best for hiding a man's best erect feature. A normal Sunday morning a church.
So then after the service I saw him talking to a couple ladies, looked like they're having a nice chat, again not too unusual. Then suddenly Chris turned to me and said he's been paid a compliment, that Miss H____ says "I'm really put together nicely!" Now this was out of the ordinary. And he's blushing again.
While I'm very proud of the way he looks, as a rule he doesn't ever put much effort into his appearance, so I took this as a compliment on my ability to dress my husband in matching tasteful clothes once in awhile. I did, however, have to rebuke this husband of mine on the ride home for failing to put a quick stop to the extra female attention he seemed to have been enjoying.
We spent the afternoon visiting some relatives, playing with Christmas presents, and helping our son pull out a front tooth, and after the kids were all prayed with and tucked in bed I was pretty exhausted. Sleep was looking pretty good about then. Put on my long flannel gown and prepared to read Scripture, pray with Chris, snuggle against his shoulder and fall into a deep slumber.
And then I saw him.
The man who sleeps naked from honeymoon day number one.
Lying there in bed dressed in his sport coat, sweater, new shirt and tie, covers pulled up to his waist. And a big smirk on his face. "So do I still look well-put-together?" And with that he threw off the covers, revealing his naked-below-the-waist body, complete with rod of purple steel standing at attention. It matched the color of his Christmas sweater actually kinda nicely...
I tried to burst out laughing, but that is actually hard to do when your clitoris has suddenly swollen to the size of a wet bing cherry and your breath is caught in your throat. Or when your husband is slamming the door, ripping off your nightgown, and throwing you to the mattress in one impatient motion.
Well, I must admit I'd never been taken by a man wearing a full Sunday outfit before. Have any of you? His lips were hungrily devouring mine, teeth nibbling my tongue and fingertips somehow gently brushing back through my hair. The light was still on, which always makes me a little edgy, and the man was still dressed, at least mostly dressed, and I could swear now as he pulled his face back a little that he was still smirking at me.
And then without a word he was in me. Oh, did it feel good, so good to have my husband's penis plunging deeply into where I could caress him with the core of my womanhood. My tender naked nipples brushed against the rather course wool of his jacket, and I pushed my bosom roughly against his chest, all the while feeling him penetrate me over and over again.
With considerable effort I fought against him fiercely enough to push the sport coat off his shoulders and out the sleeves. In that moment my first climax coursed through my panting body, and when I opened my eyes he was still smirking. And pumping away.
Still impaled on his manhood I wrestled him out of his new sweater, and somehow the angle was just right for his phallus to touch me deep inside my womb, and an amazing wrenching orgasm spread over my body. My fingernails then slowly released the skin of his back while I recovered my composure, and all the while he kept up his teasing rhythm. And his grin.
I couldn't find the energy to remove my drenched body from the missionary position, so I got even by removing the rest of his clothes: necktie, dress shirt, and undershirt, and with each article of clothing he insisted on showing off his prowess by bringing me to another climax each time all the while holding off on his own. (Okay, maybe he has reason to brag a little. For someone who as a virgin married a virgin, he has turned into a very skillful lover. I must say, the necktie orgasm from his cockhead against my G-spot was a classic, a real work of art.)
Finally it was time to finish him off. Once he was finally totally nude it was my turn to smirk "You're not so well-put-together anymore, are you Mister?". With that I squeezed my legs around his bucking hips, kegeled his shaft for all I was worth, and--Ta-Daaaah--reached around to insert one fingertip into the place where the sun doesn't shine. Instantly he came, came with a force not seen since our anniversary last month.
I felt his seed splashing into me, a warm wet river. I felt the contractions of his ejaculations around my finger, the uncontrollable spasms of his hips between my thighs. I heard the guttural moan of a man who has no longer got any control over his own body, who doesn't even know he has a separate body from mine, whose body belongs to me, I am the master in this moment, I can make this beautiful gift from God do anything I want, and in this moment of knowledge of power I give myself up to my last orgasm of the evening.
In the afterglow, we wish each other a Merry Christmas, and pray together, and I fade again into the security of being a submissive wife, lying against his chest, his arm around me, his thumping heart slowly returning to normal. Wow, do I ever love this man. Now if only I could get him to pick up his clothes.
Oh wait, I guess that was my fault this time.
THE END.
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