He looks so handsome in a suit. It might only be second time I’ve seen him in one though. Roughly he takes off the name brand jacket I bought for him and drops it into a heap on the chair in our walk-in closet. As he exits, I pick it up and hang it amongst his work shirts, brushing my fingers along the worn fabric, stained with grease or oil.
“Tonight was wonderful, babe,” he says, kicking off his new dress shoes to reveal mismatched casual socks with corresponding holes at each big toe.
Clumsily I step out of my heels as I walk towards him, a little sleepy and a little drunk but thoroughly worked up from the night’s excitement. “That was a really sweet speech.”
His hands rest on each side of my hips. “I meant every word,” He kisses my forehead and pulls me in for a long embrace. It truly feels like home within his arms, an expression I never fully grasped until we met.
I want him as much tonight as I did on our first date, on our wedding night, and every day since. He is and always has been the man of my dreams, beautifully masculine with a rugged beard and strength beyond his physical stature. But it was his unrivalled patience and concern that had stolen my heart. The type of personality I’d imagine building a life with, having children with, and growing old and feeble with. My husband, my soulmate.
My fingers fumble with loosening his tie as he has equal success unbuttoning the fine, metal discs at the nape of my neck. He bites down on his lip in determination and I laugh at the seriousness in his face.
“What?” he chuckles. “If I rip it, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
I look down at the ivory lace dress. It is one of the few pieces still in my collection I’d acquired prior to us dating, over twenty years ago. It is a small pride and joy that I can still fit into it after two decades and two kids. “Rip it.”
He laughs again, “What?”
“Go on. Rip it.”
His face blends with excitement, confusion, and caution. He kisses me hard, his hand cupping the back of my neck to draw me closer. “I love you,” he says before turning me around. A breeze accompanies the sound of steams ripping and buttons popping to fly into the walls before crashing onto the floor. “God, you are beautiful. How’d I get to be so lucky?”
I turn back as my token from youth falls to the floor. Before I can stop him, he rips his formal shirt open, showering me with plastic buttons, and exposing his bare, muscular chest. He’s never had a reserve for the sanctity of designer clothes. Last week I knew it wouldn’t last long with his rough-and-tumble demeanor but I’d never thought it would be ruined in the throes of passion.
I can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of shredding our outfits but he throws me onto the bed. “Woman,” his voice turns husky, “I’m going to love you like it’s our first time.”
“Oh, but it is!” I exclaim, feigning chastity by covering my cleavage and panties with my hands.
“Well then,” he clears his throat, “I’m going to start gentle.” He picks up my foot and kisses a trail to my knee as he crawls onto the bed. The blue tie still dangles around his neck drags against the comforter. Stopping at my thighs, he looks up, “And give you pleasure you can’t handle.” He pulls at my lace bikini but I grab his hand.
“It’s your birthday,” I hiss. Kneeling next to him, I point to the pillow. He lies down in my place, his hands raise to his chest, playful surrendering to my order. I curve down and bite the leather of his belt, an action I’d spent a week practicing on a spare. Adding spice to a marriage with ideas I’d find online – like taking off a belt with my teeth – is easier in theory than practice.
“What are you doing, love?”
“Shhhh… I’m being sexy.”
He smiles, “I know that. You do that 24/7.” He unbuckles his belt and slides his pants and shorts off, dropping them over the edge of the bed. “I don’t know what you found on Pinterest, but I just want my wife for my birthday. Maybe in her birthday suit too,” he winks.
I remove my bra and panties reminiscent of Bridget Bardot’s Plucking the Daisy, teasing him with only covered glimpses and minor awkward moments. His hands rest on my thighs as a straddle him, his hard cock waving between us. My clit runs up and down his shaft as I rock against him. The tip of his dick swells with excitement and he’s too tempting to wait.
Positioning him at my pussy’s opening, I slid down his cock. Making love to him is like dancing to your favorite song. You never grow tired of it. The rhythm flows through as you mouth familiar verse. You just want to leave it on repeat.
Sitting up he crosses his legs under me and I do the same, wrapping my legs around him, each holding the other close. His touch is fire, his skin hot, and damp with perspiration. Engulfed in his embrace my temperature soars. Our naked bodies wrap around each other and pulsate with passion.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I can feel his desire quake within me and I hope he feels all that I have for him. Slowly he reclines, kissing my jaw as I collapse all my weight onto him. I want to melt into him. To become one entity, if only for one night.