Delayed Flight

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I hear you packing in the walk-in closet. Your overhead with its leather inlays and mustard canvass with your essentials, a matching suit bag, anniversary gifts from an adoring wife. These are things which engender mixed feelings; I love you and can only barely bear you being away from me, and I am inordinately proud of and grateful to a man who can take care of us so well. Your travel is essential to this life but I hate it, I hate it almost as much as I love you.

This time, it is all the more difficult for me because I have this deep, primal yearning for you, unsatisfied last night because of your work. You came to bed so late. What was it? Two? Three? I listened to you arguing, convincing, disputing, for hours, drifting off to the intonations of a man whose voice alone can move mountains.

Why didn’t you wake me?! Why didn’t you slide my the covers from my breasts, raise my hands above my head and wake me with your breath on my breasts? Why didn’t you send me to sleep by forcing me to cum and filling me with you? Why did I wake up so awfully clean?

I’m always emotional at this time. It’s biological. I know this and love about myself that I am so needful of your touch, particularly now. You love it too but last night? You let me be. Why did you let isve├žbahis yeni giri┼č me be?

I shaved everything for you, making sure that every inch of me was soft to your manly touch. God, but don’t I need your calloused hands on me. At a word, I would drop to my knees. There’s nothing at all that I would deny you… I bathed, plucked, chose your favorite gown, your favorite panties, perfumed, did my hair, all just to be with you in bed.

Your voice though… I could listen to you from our bedroom for hours, every word audible through the register in our floor. It rises and falls like the water reaching a pool from a cliff; deep, rumbling, musical. No wonder men follow you. No wonder men want to be you. No wonder women circle you like asteroids… No, like cats in heat. But you are mine and I am the only cat in heat you need.

But I couldn’t mark you, couldn’t leave you with an unforgettable essence and memory of me, and I am angry.

Still, I know it is the hormones talking for I love you too much to saddle you with my senseless needs.

You are doing what you must, to make a life for us what I adore. I have no legitimate complaint and, so, this morning, I again bathed, and combed, and perfumed, and dressed to leave an impression.

I isve├žbahis giri┼č love this dressing gown. It barely covers my butt and its sheer fabric shows just enough of me. I am beautiful in this, I don’t doubt as beautiful as you thought I would be when you bought it. It’s panties are lovely as well, really more lingerie than dressing gown but we can pretend that that’s inadvertent, a lucky second purpose, can’t we?

You come up behind me. My eyes follow you through the mirror. Wordlessly, your strong arms encircle me, wrapping me in you. I smell your cologne, yet another way I mark you. I note the dark blue shirt with its white pearl buttons, your open collar, revealing that gold cross, just large enough to look perfect between your collar bones. The dark metal ring on your hand, your steel watch, your thick belt, with its steel buckle, your black pants.

All of it, my marking of you, my warning to other kitties that you have a woman who will do anything to keep what is hers.

Your embrace is electric. God, how I need you!

Your hands are on my tummy now, gently kneading my flesh through the lace… You kiss the back of my neck, my shoulder, my upper arm, pulling the top of my own back to reveal me. I feel the tightness isve├žbahis g├╝venilirmi of the belt release as you pull its end. You are sliding my gown off and I let it fall, lowering my arms so that you can reveal me, reveal what is yours.

I revel in you possessing me. I am made whole by your gaze, by your touch, by everything you do and demand. Just getting you a cup of coffee is enough to make me feel complete. Kneeling before you, my hands on your thighs, yours twined in my hair, makes me feel adored, desired, loved.

“You’ll be late for your flight” I remind you.

You continue to kiss my neck and shoulder, cupping my left breast and teasing my nipple between your forefinger and thumb. I want you to miss your flight. Lord, I need you to stay with me, to, just this once, let that deal go, let that victory elude you; but, I cannot ask. It would be wrong and unjust to deny you what makes you, you. It is what I love about you, that insatiable desire to conquer every challenge; but, today, today, I need you to retake this field.

As you kiss my shoulder, gently sucking my pale skin, I think of the inevitable purple mark you are leaving. I will have to cover that but I love them. You leave them all over me, just a few, always. You mark me, as I do you… This one will be darker than others.

Your hand left hand is on my thigh. You pull my leg apart and I don’t hesitate. I need you to touch me…

“The car will be here any minute” in remind you.

“Shhhh… I’ve got three hours before my rescheduled flight.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bo■altmamř ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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