The eager strut to my front door was a bit of a false start. I wobbled on a heel with my first step and nearly rolled my ankle. I was still a bit drunk, though as drunk as I could be. I had the intense aches and soreness of rough sex to remind me of that. The places which endured the escalating pleasure, pain, and abuse over the last few days, felt downright bruised at this point. I reminded myself I was likely being watched, if only by my doorbell camera. I made an effort to approach my house with some grace.
Maybe I was walking visibly gingerly. Maybe I looked like a glamorous guest. I checked myself before I left the hotel, and despite the vigorous events of the evening so far, I still looked pretty well put together; once I had my clothes back on that is. Not a hair was out of place on Sammie's braid-work. I reminded myself to thank her. That girl's night seemed well in order now.
Whatever the reason, by the time I made it to the brick steps going up to my front door from the walkway, my husband had appeared at the front door. He took my hand to help me up the steps. I was grateful. Even sober and in perfect condition, navigating the brick step work in these heels would have been a tricky task. He gaped in awe at my appearance in person. I knew he received the picture I sent from the hotel bar. once I had finally checked my phone in the back of Dwayne's car, I found several enthusiastic emojis sent in response. At no point that evening had I remembered to check to see if Tom had not approved of me staying out tonight. Frankly, at that point in the evening I am not sure what I would have done if he had.
Tom escorted me into the house, and we kissed in the front entrance; just like we did when we first moved into the home a few short years ago.
"It looks like you had an elegant evening," he complimented with a warm smile.
"It definitely started out that way," I offered, grinning.
"But you enjoyed yourself?" he asked.
There was a touch of concern in his voice.
I appreciated the sentiment. Tom was big on consent and respecting women. He had no illusions that all men were so enlightened. As exciting as this was for him, I was sure some part of him worried for my safety whenever I was out.
"Very much so," I assured.
"Would you like to... get off your feet?" he asked.
He was too shy to presume asking me to our room for sex. He knew I would not wear heels like this a moment longer than necessary. So, inviting me to 'get more comfortable' and hoping for the best, was more his style. Acts of service are his love language and he would service me every step of the way to our bed.
Tom followed me to our room and once again I found myself at the foot of a bed with an eager man in my presence. My husband helped me out of my dress, actually retrieved a hanger for it, and hung it on the inside of my closet door. He could barely take his eyes off me though. The see through bra. The G-string panties under a pair of glossy pantyhose. Sexy high heels. It was a dream come true for him. I sat on the edge of the bed. Tom returned and tenderly removed my heels and placed them aside. I scooted backwards onto my bed and flopped back; my arms outstretched. I love my bed. I am quite particular about the right combination of firmness and foam topper. It has to be just right. I felt myself sink into the memory foam and let my body relax. Tom closed the door to our bedroom.
When he returned, he crawled up from the foot of the bed, running his hands up the glossy pantyhose he purchased for me. He hastened to reach my sexy bra and kissed my nipples through the fabric. I realized that of all my erogenous zones, my nipples got off relatively easy tonight. I welcomed his gentle touches there. Tom must have looked up from my cleavage while he was kissing there.
"What happened to your neck?" he asked.
Before I left the hotel, I noticed that skin was a bit red, but it was not as red as other places.
"I discovered a new way to help reach a climax tonight," I offered.
I am sure Tom took my meaning.
I felt his erection pressing against my thigh through his clothes. He lowered himself along my body, kissing along my stomach, and returning his hands to the luxurious pantyhose. He caressed my hips, then slid his hands underneath my ass. I negotiated with myself to let him touch. It was OK, still OK, then his hands were cupping each ass cheek and he gave the slightest squeeze. I flinched and hissed in pain, despite trying not to. Tom relaxed his hands and froze.
"Did he spank you?" he asked, incredulous.
His hands had already moved to the waist of the hosiery and he was gingerly working them off my body.
"Not as such," I offered. "He mostly held on for leverage."
I felt stickiness between my legs as the pantyhose came away from my used pussy. If Tom had not noticed the mess of Greg's come before, it would be plainly obvious with just my sheer panties in place. Not only were the panties and pantyhose soaked through with it, I was pretty sure I would need to get the dress dry cleaned. Once the pantyhose were off, he crawled back up my body and adjusted the thin straps of the panties so they lay high on my hip where they are supposed to sit. He gently nudged a hip to invite me to roll on my side. Perhaps he wanted to see where the G-string plunged between my voluptuous ass cheeks, perhaps he wanted to get a look at why I was so sore back there. Probably both. I already knew what he would see. My ass was a glowing red mess of sore skin. He caressed the skin gently, but without the layer of nylon, even that was too much not to flinch.
He let me roll to my back and slowly pulled the panties down my legs. I watched. A small pool of white come was stuck to the fabric of the panties, and even that represented a small portion of it. Tom placed his hands behind my knees, lifted them into a bent position, parted my legs, and knelt between them. With my legs open I couldn't control the come. I felt some run down my pussy and make it to my ass. Tom opened his pants and freed his erection. I looked down at him. Even behind all the come, it had to be visibly obvious that my labia was unnaturally pink and swollen.
"Tom, I don't know if I can... have you inside me," I implored.
