Wifey is a great fuck. I really have little to complain about. Sure, she could suck my cock more often, but I have never heard a guy who didn't lament the same shortcoming in his wife. And certainly there are intermittent, long stretches (by my internal lust clock) when my frustration mounts due to "not getting any" as we like to say.
When hours roll over into days without having sex, the world of lust and fantasy in my mind expands exponentially. In the afterglow when I have emptied my balls inside of her, my fantasies are mostly about her. As time moves along, perhaps just minutes or hours later, the perimeter widens to include whatever stimuli meets my eyes. When that season extends longer, again we are talking no more than a day, my world of lust boils over like the spewing, hot lava erupting from a volcano. It churns and flows, consuming whatever is in its path.
These volcanic convulsions of lust are not rare. In fact, they are a constant in my life. Although always sequestered within the boundaries of my mind, the heat of that lust-lava is fueled by what my senses take in, mostly through the eyes. Thus, wifey's oft' repeated warning-slash-permission to me is both a blessing and a curse when she reminds me, "You can look, but you cannot touch."
This is her way of reminding me that she knows I am not perfect. I am a guy. I am not blind. She understands my appreciation of the female body. But there is a clear line marking the boundaries. I can look AND touch wifey all I want, within reason of course. But, when it comes to all others, I can ONLY look and NEVER touch. It is a compromise that works well for us, most of the time.
I say most of the time, because there are moments when the "perfect storm" of lust can feel overpowering. When key elements collide, there is a volatile and powerful energy that tugs me perilously close to that boundary line. These key elements are composed of the following:
1. We have not fucked for a few days,
2. I have free time on my hands,
3. Sweet, female curves greet my eyes.
This is where potentially explosive eruptions are conceived. This is when I fight my hardest to corral my cock and abide by our "look but don't touch" agreement.
Today was such a day. It has been four long days since I last fucked wifey. Three days ago, I enjoyed a quality cum-shot when she joined me in the shower and offered me the soapy, slippery crack between her ass cheeks; I slid my cock like a hot dog in a bun until I shot a nice load up her lower back. Two days ago, wifey was out for the evening at some women's charity event. Home alone for a few hours, I chatted online and jerked off - twice.
Yesterday, I thought a wake-up fuck session was brewing when she cut me off. Later that morning while leading our executive staff meeting in the conference room, my eyes feasted on the big-titted, MILF that one of our department chairs introduced as our newest administrative assistant. Not sure what her administrative skill set was, but she certainly had visible assets that didn't hurt her. She was in her mid-twenties, blonde, and had a toddler in our onsite childcare. By the time our meeting had ended, I had mentally unbuttoned her blouse and pealed away her bra a dozen different times.
As the staff meeting adjourned, I made sure to walk over and give my personal welcome and greeting to Keri. Her bust-filled blouse was an even better view up close. I am NOT into sexual harassment nor the pesky litigation it can bring. I made sure to remain outwardly professional, even as my mind rapidly updated my index of images used to fuel my lust. Then later that day, not once, but twice, I found plausible reason to wander the office complex on a path that took me directly by Keri's tits... er desk.
By the time I got home, I had mentally nurtured at least a dozen different moments of hardon pleasures throughout the day with Keri front and center. Of course, the minute I saw wifey upon my arrival home, her gorgeous 36c tits stuck out to me like two sirens daring me to follow their songs. I fondled her as I gave her a kiss hello. As she politely guided my hands to the less erogenous zone of her hips, she spoke with a neutral tone, perhaps even a touch of intolerance, "Hard day at the office, eh?"
Her words may have playfully danced with double-meaning, but her tone was all business. I knew her plenty well-enough to know that whatever the next half-hour entailed, it definitely would not be a welcome home fuck. Before I could even answer her question, I heard an unfamiliar voice echoing down the hallway that led to the patio area out back.
Wifey answered my confused look. "That's Anita. She is a marketing rep for the firm that is pushing our Community Fundraiser. Karen and I are meeting with her on the patio to discuss her promotional strategies. We won't be much longer."
I nodded and smiled. That wifey was so engaged in helping others pleased me. That it sometimes meant I didn't get as much of her as I craved frustrated me. It was a noble trade-off.
I admired the view of her sexy, married ass walking back towards the patio. My mind expertly traced the panty lines her tight jeans revealed. I nonchalantly wandered a few steps behind her, not only extending my view of her ass but also giving me a chance to update my mental lust index of Karen. She was a hottie for sure!
I casually waved as I poked my head out the French doors and eyed Karen and Anita. "Hello ladies." Karen waved back and smiled at me, that brief movement of her arm feeding my eyes with the view of her sweater pulling against her tits.
Anita shyly waved with less enthusiasm. Her business suit offered me little to no insight regarding how hot her body might be. But from the looks of her coal-black hair and dark brown eyes that charmed her cute face, I knew it had to be good.
I wandered upstairs to change clothes. By the time I had navigated the 17 steps of the winding staircase, my mind had sorted out various images of Keri's tits, wifey's ass, Karen's tits, and Anita's pacific islander beauty. As I unzipped my slacks, I thought to myself 'right now I could fuck any of them.' Of course, reality quickly reminded me that I could only fuck one of them ~ wifey ~ and she did not seem to be available at the moment.
I explored the opportunity to jerk off as I spied the two women with my wifey on the patio. As I peaked out our bedroom window I had hoped to perhaps get a private peak down blouse of one of the ladies. But Karen's sweater was uncooperative and Anita's conservative shirt was secured at the collar with a ribbon-like bow. Wifey was in view as well, but I choose to look past her for the moment.
The rest of the evening served up several other empty promises of potential lust-filled moments. By the time wifey pecked me on the cheek with a kiss that signaled "not tonight", I was carrying more than a full 24 hours of cum inventory in my balls and almost three days of pent up fuck-lust.
This morning, I awoke with a hardon that was being pushed by almost a full 36 hours of cum begging to be released. Wifey had already slipped out of bed without waking me. I rolled out of bed, naked as usual, and couldn't help but admire how fucking hard my cock was. Morning erections always seem to be especially stiff and hard.
I grabbed my robe and draped it over my shoulders and went wifey hunting. I found her downstairs in her pre-shower tee and panties, sipping on a cup of coffee as she stood looking at the dining room window. Our view of the ocean was spectacular. So was my view of her ass.
I sauntered in and cuddled up behind her. The sound of my steps had signaled my arrival long before my arms wrapped around her waist. Then the incredible bulge of my morning hardon pressed against her ass and signaled something else. She quickly jerked me to my senses as she gently turned her head to look at me over her shoulder and softly queried, "Did someone forget it was their turn to speak at the monthly intern breakfast?"
"Damn!" I blurted out. I had totally forgotten about it! I looked at the clock. It read 6:43 AM. The breakfast was scheduled for seven! I am not sure which was quicker; my shower or the disappearing act of my morning hardon.
Somehow I managed to arrive at the midtown, restaurant, banquet room late for breakfast but on time for my informal comments to the interns. I brushed off the "good morning sleepy-head" from my partner and put my best professional foot forward as I engaged with the interns.
