a married lady's fantasy

Tomorrow, when I come home from work, I will be exhausted. My body will ache, my mind will be fatigued. I will shuffle up my driveway, heels already in my hand, looking defeated. Oh, but when I open the door...

You'll have taken the day off to clean and the house will look immaculate. No kids. No distractions. You'll take my bag and shoes from my hands, set them in the foyer, and lead me to the master bathroom. There's already a warm bubble bath started, steam setting against the windows. You'll trace warm kisses along the curve of my neck while your hands knead slow circles into my aching shoulders and tense back. Tenderly, you'll draw my clothes off my body. I will sigh and bury my toes in the thick softness of the bath mat before you guide me into the water. It. Will. Be. Delicious.

After I've completely relaxed and shed the tension of my day, you'll take a spongeful of lather and caress my body with it, painting my breasts and stomach and arms in a foamy shade of white. You'll pull my hair down from its imprisoning clip, ease my glasses off my face, and kiss me. Just when I'm ready to melt into the water, you will disappear into the kitchen. After several moments of blessed silence, I'll close my eyes and drift off momentarily.

When I open them? I'll see a flute of champagne and a small plate with one chocolate covered strawberry. When I've revelled in this harmony for long enough (and really, is there such a thing as long enough?), you'll return with a fluffy towel, bathrobe and slippers. You'll guide me from the tub and take the time to dry my flushed skin. You'll kiss me passionately, hungrily.

And then you'll leave for the night so I can read a book and enjoy the silence.

Reader, were you expecting something else? I did say I'm MARRIED.

the saga continues...

Last night was a bust. Mr. S. and I ended up playing a video game and going to bed pretty late. That's a kind of intimacy that we're good at: comraderie. But he didn't make the slightest hint about sex.

This morning, though, he was handsy in the kitchen and I thought for sure he would've dragged me away if he could have. He even complimented my figure and bit my neck quite a bit, grabbed my tits and ass, and gave me a few slow, lingering kisses. Some day, I want to start that way and have him guide me down to my knees, where I can suck him off in the kitchen while he stands there, fingers kneading in my hair.

He could boost me up onto the counter--or better yet, bend me over the kitchen table--and fuck me right in front of the windows for all the neighbors to see or not. Mmf. If he doesn't fuck me soon, I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands. And what is it with me and the kitchen?