Homecoming Dance

Two weeks in Europe was unnecessary. I'm sorry that my clients drag me around the world at the spur of the moment. You deserve better and I plan to make it up to you. I know you think it's par for the course but I don't like being away from you for this long. Yes, we talk on the phone and text and email but I'm a bit more selfish about our time.

As always I appreciate the tastefully erotic photos and naughty thoughts you send but hotel lotion and your photo are good for that first week. But by the second week every ass that passes by me has me wanting to get on a plane immediately. I can barely have a conversation with the female staff at the venues without wondering if they knew how to suck dick as well as you. Horribly sexist, I know. But ten days into the trip I devolve into a pig.

Of course it doesn't help that you knowingly push my buttons by asking which lawyers have the softest calves or which models are the height I like. You're such a bitch. You should be guilting me into believing that my deviant sexual thoughts have no place in modern society. Instead you ask me if Parisian accents would be sexier than Italian accents if you they were muffled by my dick. Not cool.

I'm guessing most folks would assume your line of innuendo was meant as an invitation to act on those random perverted thoughts. I'm pretty that you would view an episode on the road fair as long as I was totally honest about it and we discussed it beforehand. Maybe you'd really be okay with it. Or maybe it's your coping mechanism in case I actually I do decide to fuck that Ethiopian photographer at the London studio. On the other side of the coin you might get turned on by hearing about the handjob the matronly VP gave me in the Berlin limo. Maybe you want to open the door for both of us to get our beaks wet during those long trips.

But I'm not a mind reader so I don't really know what to do with how your fucking mind works. I don't think you know either. Swallowing me while my driver waits at the corner is a wonderful goodbye but we know that memory will fade in 3 days. Okay 5 days.

So I will do what I do after every long business trip where every curve is intended to get my dick hard. I'll get to our house around 9PM to find you unimpressed by my return. You'll talk to me about the bills and the car and our upcoming vacation while I drag my bags up stairs. The stench of last nights closing party that finished in the airport lounge means I'll need a shower. You'll keep talking about tomorrow's brunch plans and how nice the weather was while I wash away Europe, but I know you just want a glimpse of me as I disrobe.

Unconsciously you'll continue the one-sided conversation as my monosyllabic answers convey my interest and apathy at the same time because I know you're pretending that the warmth of my skin against yours isn't what you're waiting for. By the time I finish scrubbing my body you'll have left for the bedroom to get your pajamas on and wrap your hair for tomorrow's busy day.

But after I dry off I won't bother with deodorant or lotion or pajamas. I'll simply climb into the bed with the freshly laundered sheets and plant a loving kiss on you while you faintly protest as if you're surprised by my nakedness.

"Did you miss me or something?" you'll jokingly ask as I pull down your pajama bottoms. Your pussy will be freshly groomed but you know it wouldn't really matter. You'll fake a protest as you turn off the lights and enjoy my mouth discovering already moist pussy. You'll shudder shudder because you forgot to touch yourself during my trip.

But there will be no time for foreplay because you'll purposefully push my buttons by poking at the lack of control over my animal instincts. "All this for me?" you'll ask as I spin you over to your knees in front of me so your round ass rubs against my rock hard dick. "There must have been some beautiful women at last night's party."

I'll be turned on and offended by your assertion as I glide my dick into your dripping pussy. Every feminine curve and voice and aroma from the past two weeks will fly through my brain as I begin to thrust into you. The smacking from your cheeks against my thugs will be deafening as the thrust go from me fucking you to you bucking me. If you were as tired and disinterested as you'll pretend to be you'd be on your stomach talking dirty hoping I'd come quickly on your ass.

But you'll be on your hands and knees grinding that pussy against the dick you missed while my hands grip your hips and ass. You'll be fucking me like a champ until I push deeper into you while I reach around to grab your breast. Then it will be over.

You'll buck uncontrollably and my dick will drown in your movement until we both come with a shaking violence indicative of how pent up our kink had been. I'll sit behind you while you remain on all fours unable to come down from your high. Slowly rocking to and fro you'll finally sink into the freshly dampened sheets.

You won't be able to see me smile as I stare lovingly at the only ass that occupies my brain when I'm about to come. But you know I'll be staring so you'll welcome me home with "I missed you, too."