James woke up one day with a hard on. This was not an unusual state of awakening for James, since he usually suffered from a piss hard on first thing in the morning. This time the normal pee stiffness was kept hard with an extreme level of horniness. He had just had the most erotic dream of his life time, one might even call it a wet dream, but, since his manhood was still standing at attention, there must not have been much 'wet' to the dream.
He had dreamt about his wife, of all things, but this dream was about when they were young teenagers. Well, they weren't exactly teenagers, as he was twenty-four to her eighteen, but they were desperately in love and highly sexual. At that point in their lives they hadn't had any children and both had fit and toned bodies, and they used every part of their bodies when they were together. In his dream he had relived a wonderful night with his now wife, from years ago.
There was a remembered kiss from his dream; her kisses had a power to just turn him on so much, an instant hard on. Of course, it didn't take much to turn him on, because a breeze suddenly changing directions could give him a hard on. Once, while they were dating and he was working at the sawmill, he had suddenly caught the scent of vanilla, the same smell of her perfume. Well, that was enough to send the blood down south. He was standing there in his Carhartt work overalls with a tent that was extremely obvious, and his co-worker Bill had noticed and playfully asked who he was thinking about, although Bill knew exactly who he was thinking about since he hadn't shut up talking about Rachel since the moment he'd met her.
In his dream he had seen Rachel on top of him, her curly blonde hair sticking damp from sweat to her face, her eyes a glaze of green passion, her breasts, though small and pert, bouncing with her movements as she rode his hard cock. He could remember the dream as if it had just happened, even the feelings of how much he loved her and how she was the best thing that had ever happened to him in quite a long time. He remembered how in the dream he ran his hands over her body, first her breasts, and then down to her firm flat tummy. He could almost even hear the moans of passion as her orgasm crashed down on her and shook her from head to toe.
Finally, James pulled himself from sleep and the remembered dream and came crashing back to reality as he heard the cartoons blaring from the living room and his two daughters fighting over a toy or something as absurd. Then he heard his son crying and the sounds of his wife singing to him along with the squeaks of the rocking chair as she tried to soothe his baby nightmares. Unwillingly he opened his eyes; only the light filtered by the window blinds lighted the darkened room. The décor of the bedroom came into his sight, at first fuzzy, then it became more clear. His wife had decorated their room with an Indian flair, that is India-Indian, not Native American Indian.
Rachel was your average Caucasian with a mixture of German, French, Scottish, and Irish, but she had a passion for anything Celtic and Indian. Their living room was done with the Celtic décor, but the India style was saved for the bedroom. His eyes met the drapes she had created out of authentic sari fabric, and then he saw the pictures on the wall of the Krishna. He turned and looked at her side of the room where she had two shelves, one with a stone statue of the goddess of female strength, and the other with the goddess of wealth.
Finally he sat up and pulled the bedspread off, an item he bought her for her birthday. It was an authentically Indian made bedspread that had designs of reds and gold, with little mirrors in the center of each. He loved to tease her about her flare to interior designing, but really it was pretty cool, even if they weren't Hindu and didn't come directly from the emerald isles.
As he sat on the edge of the bed he looked between his legs and saw that his manhood continued to make a tent in his jockey shorts. He would have to put on his robe to make sure that any passing by child didn't see the spectacle their father was making.
He got up and grabbed his robe and, just as he got it tied, the bedroom door opened. Rachel walked into the room and when she did she saw her husband standing there and smiled her brightest smile, a smile that could lighten the heart and speed up the libido all at the same time.
"You're up! I thought you were going to sleep all through Saturday," said Rachel with ornery look that consisted of a grin and a cocked eyebrow.
"I would have, but my bladder told me I couldn't," said James.
"Well, it's good to see you back in the land of the living. I'm doing some laundry, do you have any jeans to add?"
"Yeah, here are some," said James as he picked up the jeans that he'd left in a pile on the floor before falling asleep the night before.
With that Rachel flipped on the overhead light, completely blinding James, his hand reached up to cover his still sleep clouded eyes.
"Oh sorry," said Rachel, but still with the ornery look on her face.
Rachel walked to James and grabbed the dirty jeans and leaned in and quickly gave her husband a good morning kiss. It was a simple kiss, no open mouth and no tongue, but it was enough to make James' hard on start to throb. Luckily, because of the robe, she wasn't aware of his current condition. When she kissed him he inhaled her scent and smelled vanilla, a scent she rarely wore these days.
"You're wearing your vanilla perfume," said James his throbbing hard on beginning to become painful.
"Yeah, I guess I was just in a vanilla mood today. I splashed some on after my shower. Speaking of showers, you better get in, 'cause we gotta go grocery shopping today."
With that Rachel turned and was out of the bedroom.
'Ahhh, shopping, the great adventure,' thought James.
Mostly their shopping adventures consisted of Rachel going up and down each aisle with her organized list of required items, and James placing in the cart whatever looked good, with the girls complaining in unison about being hungry or thirsty and the baby boy getting upset because he couldn't properly drink his bottle in the shopping cart seat. Usually both parents came home exhausted, only to remember they still had to unload the car full of groceries. James was depressed at this thought because it meant they wouldn't have the energy to enjoy a little one on one time later, and he was surely more in the mood to be alone with his wife than to go out and shop, no matter if they needed the food or not.
Reluctantly, he decided he should get ready to go. He left the bedroom and passed by the baby's room and saw him playing with his toys on the floor with the baby gate keeping him captive in his baby safe room. When little James Jr. saw his daddy at the door he smiled his drooling smile that was so like his mother's smile, but without the drool, and held up his plastic pick up truck with a look of pure childhood happiness. James waved at his son and Jr. went back to his happy play. He peered into the living room to see his two daughters, so close in age they looked almost liked twins. They were watching television, so into their cartoons that they didn't even notice their father in the doorway.
"Aren't you girls going to say hi to your dad?"
The girls turned, little exact copies of their mother, but one with blonde hair and blue eyes and the other with brown hair and brown eyes.
"Hi daddy!" both girls said in unison, then turned back to their most interesting cartoons.
James shook his head and wondered to himself if twins could actually be born a year and a half apart without the help of modern medicine.
He got to the bathroom and with a whispered prayer, he hoped his hard on would release after he was able to relieve his bladder. Peeing with a hard on is an interesting technique that over the years of his life he had only partially mastered. He stood at the toilet with his legs splayed apart and pointed his hard member in the direction of the toilet. Luckily his aim was true and he made it into the toilet. Finally, completely drained, he hoped now his hard on would soften, but as he prepared for his shower his member remained upright. He decided he better turn on the cold water for this shower.
The cold spray stung his backside and sent shivers down his spine, but yet his arousal stayed hard and strong. He attempted to concentrate on washing and on the upcoming shopping adventure, but unfortunately his mind kept wandering. Rachel, of course, wasn't the same as she was when they had been dating, but still he found her possibly even more beautiful now. The blonde hair of her teen years had come from a bottle, but now she had it her natural light brown, occasionally putting blonde streaks whenever, as she said, "I got a bug up my butt to do something different."
Rachel was always coming up with her unique sayings. He brought up a memory that hit him with a little pang of regret. They hadn't been married very long and were driving around town one day. She had been in kind of a silly mood and one off her unique sayings had popped out of her mouth. James couldn't remember what her expression had been, but he definitely remembered that he'd replied to it a bit harshly, saying something to the effect that she was super weird, but with a bit more sting. He hadn't realized how his words could hurt until that moment. She had turned toward him with her emerald eyes glassy from the tears filling up in them.
"Jamison William Mason," she said always calling him by his full name when she was rather perturbed. "If I can't be myself around you then who should I be? I am a mixture of everything; I can be serious when the moment calls for it, sexy when I feel like it, but mostly silly and a bit goofy. That's what makes me, who I am and whom you married. If you wanted a straight man in your little comedy duo, then you should've married the stiff as a board, no sense of humor, boring as all hell types."
It had stunned him how his words had hit her. Then a realization suddenly struck him that he was usually pretty goofy himself, sometimes annoyingly so, and she always regarded him with her wonderful smile or her great laugh. Did he really want to be the only one with a sense of humor in this marriage? His answer was "no", and he couldn't figure for the life of him why he'd responded so negatively. He had grabbed her hand and looking into her eyes, fearing that a tear would actually fall and he would be the blame for it.
"I'm sorry. I love every part of you, even your natural high goofy attitude. I guess I was feeling a little down in the dumps and I suppose I wanted everyone to feel the same way," he said with an honest look of regret.
From that day on he never took out his wavering mood swings on her. The truth of the matter was he loved her always and forever. She wasn't like she had been as a teen. Motherhood had taken it's toll on her body, but in his opinion she was more exotic now because age had taught her how to use her femininity in a certain manner that could just turn his head and raise his libido. To him, age, along with experience, was much better than the perfect young body and innocence.
His thoughts reverted back to when Rachel had walked into the bedroom. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts that enhanced her long legs. Also, she had on a pink v-neck tee shirt, and was wearing no bra. If he looked hard enough he believed he could make out the outline of her dusky, mauve nipples. She had recently stopped wearing a bra, with the exception of family events and such. When he had asked her about this change, she gave him her version of things.
"Mostly the reason women wear a bra is to impress men. Well, whom am I trying to impress, since I'm married and I'm sure you don't care whether or not I wear a bra. Plus, a bra is built to support, and my boobs aren't big, so what am I trying to support? So, what is the point of wearing something that is uncomfortable that I have to spend way too much money on and never fits right anyway?" she said, in her most logical sounding voice.
