"James and his new girlfriend have cancelled on us," Amy called from the kitchen. "They don't want to drive through the storm at night."
I looked out at the lake from the living room and saw the water looking grey and foreboding. Waves were washing over the dock and rain was coming down hard and heavy. It was understandable, a long drive from the city through that mess looked pretty unappealing to me, too.
"Well, the kids are gone for the weekend and no-one is coming around," I said, pretending to be musing over our options. "Whatever shall we do to fill the evening?"
I heard a noise and turned to see Amy in the doorway. "I need a backrub," she said. "My shoulders are killing me."
I just smiled, an idea coming to me. "Why don't you grab a glass of wine and that plate of cheese?" I asked her. "I'll get a blanket for you." I went to the linen closet, the evening already forming in my mind.
Amy's my wife of 5 years; she's blonde with startling blue eyes. She has the figure of a 19-year old, something that never fails to turn me on. I just love to look at her tummy, watching her taut muscles.
She has been on the threshold of a big experience for her sexually. Since we have been together, she's discovered her g-spot and has had some incredible orgasms there. I have been wanting to see if she could squirt come from one of those huge orgasms, see if she can be comfortable enough to totally let go when she comes, squirting all over the bed, all over me. The idea had me getting hard, wanting to make it happen.
I knew that it was really just a question of her being comfortable and open to it. If she was in a place where she could be totally relaxed, totally letting herself go, then... well, I wanted to see.
With that in mind, I thought to grab some lotion and pulled out a soft blanket and laid it out in front of the fireplace. She came in and I took the glass and plate from her, motioning to lay down. She did, and I put the wine and cheese where she could easily get them. She was face down, her face partially covered by her long hair.
"You are beautiful, laying there like that," I told her. It was true, she looked like a picture of sensual comfort before the fire.
I put the stereo to some soft music and pulled a couple of pillows from the couch, placing them under her head and feet. The head to make her comfortable, the feet to take the pressure off of her lower back. I removed my sweater and shoes, kneeling on the blanket by her hips.
Pulling her shoes off first, leaving her socks on for now. I didn't pay any attention to her feet yet, wanting her to feel some want before giving her satisfaction.
I'm no Don Juan, but over the years there have been some things that have really meant something to the women I have been with. One is that women need to know the feeling of want. They are often used to guys who take what they want from them and then go to sleep; if you can get into the habit of making your woman feel want, knowing satisfaction is coming later... well, it works for Amy.
So down her feet went, neglected for now. Next came her sweater, pulled gently over her shoulders and away. Her hair was messy, and she moved to straighten it when I stopped her arm; I wanted the picture of sensual desire. She complied, wanting me to take charge, to take care of her.
Underneath was a red satin bra, pulling slightly into the skin on her back. Again, the temptation to take it off was high but I fought it. Opening the lotion, a warmed a dollop in my hands before smoothing it across her lower back.
I love her lower back, love the firm muscles, love the feeling of them. My fingers went lightly over them, then deeper into the muscles. Gently, but reaching deeper, my hands began loosening the tensions there.
At that moment the power went. The lights flickered and died. The room was bathed in the firelight, bringing that tone to everything, her hair, her skin. Her eyes barely opened.
As my hands worked their way up her back, she reached around to remove her bra. I pushed her hands away. She gave a frustrated groan.
