The Fantasy Hour

It's 5:00. She knows he's just getting home from a long day of work. It's the time of day he takes a shower and allows himself a few minutes of thinking of her. It's the time of day she imagines his touch.

He takes off his boots and locks the bathroom door. He looks at himself in the mirror. He pictures her flipping her brown hair over her shoulder before she lowers her beautiful mouth onto him. He sees her sexy brown eyes staring up at him, begging for more. He feels himself grow hard and takes off his pants. He opens his phone and goes to his hidden folder and looks at his favorite picture. Her beautiful large breasts being held in her hands like a gift for him. The only other part of her he can see is her pouty lips. He touches the screen and can feel them, soft and velvety on his. He can hear her voice coming from them, smooth as silk whispering in his ear words far too dirty for such a pretty mouth. "I need you to fuck me right now. I want you inside me."

He grabs his cock and starts to stroke it, remembering the last time she had her hand on him, moving smooth and easy like she was born to do it. When they're together she can't stop touching him, like she's trying not to break the connection, like she's memorizing every piece of him. He turns on the shower and steps in. He remembers her wet body pressed up against the door, her head tilted back in pleasure, her hands on her own tits. He can practically hear her moans as his mouth created waves throughout her body. He remembers her taste, the sweetness, his favorite flavor. He can feel her strong thighs wrapped around his body tightly, holding him inside her. He kept stroking himself at a steady pace, but didn't want the fantasy to end, because he didn't want to step back out to the real world where thoughts of her were taboo.

She lay on the bed with her vibrator. She'd long since given it a secret nickname, one she also called him when they were alone. She spread her legs and felt the familiar wetness that comes when she can't get him off her mind. Knowing he was right at that moment thinking of her made it worse. She turned her vibrator on low and slowly entered her wet pussy. She closed her eyes and saw him over her with his icy blue stare that she felt deep in her soul. Sometimes when he looked at her the desire in his eyes was so strong it took her breath away. She could picture his hair, a little too long for some people, but exactly right for her fingers to run through and grasp a handful when his face is buried between her legs. His face had enough facial hair to leave burns on her inner thighs, something that reminds her of him for hours.

She smiled when she pictured the crooked little smile he would get when he knew he was driving her mad and the dimples you had to look hard for when he smiled because they were hiding behind his beard. She practically could taste him. His dick, large and full, on her tongue, in and out, slowly at first and then faster until he releases all of himself inside her. She can see his face looking down on her, pleasure in his eyes and a look of pure hunger all over his face. All of these little things started a fire in her. She could almost feel his chest on top of her, as she runs her hand over his one and only tattoo. His hips, grinding out a perfect rhythm to a song only they know. His breath on her neck, his voice in her ear passing on his dirty little secrets and connecting them together. She turns the buzz up and rubs it against her clit. She pictures him as he is right now, wet in the shower, hair falling in his face, cock in his hand, her on his mind.

He speeds up his stroke as he sees her in his head, spread eagle in her bed, sweaty, eyes closed, moans escaping her perfect lips, visions of him dancing through her mind. His cum sprayed out onto the shower wall. If she were there she would have eagerly swallowed it.

Her pussy shook in orgasm. She cried out as the wetness spread on her sheets. She put the vibrator down and got dressed. She walked to the window seat and stared outside. She always felt a little empty afterwards. His strong arms not there to hold her. His lips not there to gently touch hers and seal in their secret. She heard the door open downstairs and wiped away her tear. She met her husband at the door and kissed his cheek. "How was your day?"

He wiped the fog from the mirror and smiled at his reflection. Just what he needed after a long day at work, to unload while allowing himself forbidden thoughts about the person who was nearly always on his mind. There is a knock at the door. He cracks it open. His wife smiled "are you almost ready to go to dinner?" He smiles back a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and nods. "Almost."