Warning: sexual content, and adult language
I was depressed this morning. The world just seemed like a nasty place. So I decided to go back to bed. But I took off my clothes, and snuggled up to my husband. That wasn’t enough for me. I rubbed on him, and woke him up. He woke up enough to pull his pajama pants to allow me access.
I proceeded to go down on him. That went on for a little bit, then we changed positions. He stood up next to the bed, I laid on my back with my head hanging over the side of the bed. He grabbed my head, and I took him into my mouth again. Then he said he wanted to fuck me.
We went to the end of the bed. I was on my hands and knees, and he was standing behind me. He made me cum several times, but he didn’t.
We decided to take a nap, so we crawled back into bed, naked. We slept for a while. When we both woke up again, he was hard. No point in letting that go to waste. We got in the scissor position, and had fun. Then we went to the edge of the bed again.
Today was different. We don’t usually do it twice in one day anymore. But damn, it was fun today. He made me cum over a dozen times. He actually counted. We don’t have sex as often as we used to as newlyweds (we averaged once a day then), but the sex has actually gotten better.
There really is something special about being with one partner for a long time. You know what turns them on. They know what gets you going.
We’ve been together for 23 years now. Things have slowed down, but they’re still pretty good. He still manages to surprise me.
I have no idea where I’m going with this post. Maybe I just wanted to brag. Society seems to think that because I’m older, and I’m fat, that I am not allowed to be a sexual being, and to have fun. Well, fuck society. I am a sexual being, and I still have fun.
The world is a nasty place, but our bedroom is a great place for us. After 23 years, and bad things that have happened, we still love each. We still enjoy being together. We enjoy each other’s body. I realize that I am blessed, and I appreciate that.