Last night I wanted to surprise my husband with a special home coming. He'd been to Scotland for a seminar and I was picking him up at our local airport. Patrick and I enjoy a rather exciting sex life, and there are no taboos or restrictions on our activities.
Getting back to last night, I was very anxious to see my husband. He'd been gone five days (and five long, long nights!) I wanted to do something special for him, so I planned my welcome home event with considerable care. I'd spent the entire day at the spa getting "ready" for him. Tanning, massage, manicure, facial,...the works! I bought a new garter belt, and found some very sheer hose, the ones with a seam up the back. Patrick's favorite. I bought some new panties as well. No bra. I never wear one. His plane was landing at ten that evening. I wasn't sure what I'd wear with the underthings and finally, as I was putting the garter and stockings on, it hit me. I'd wear only those two items. I'd wrap up in my London Fog rain coat, and meet his plane with nothing on under the coat except the garter and stockings! Fuck! I was getting excited just thinking about it.
I stood in front of the mirror before I put my coat on and examined my body once more. Not bad, if I do say so myself. In case this is the first story of ours you've read, let me describe myself. I'm 5'6" tall, weigh around 117 pounds, and measure 38-22-36. By the way, the 38 is a double D cup. My breasts are my best feature, or so I think. They are full, smooth, and oval shaped. Patrick tells me I have bullet nipples, cause they're always hard, and stick out about 3/8 of an inch. When they're touched, or sucked, they get even bigger!
My ass is nice, a little large I think, but there again, I yield to my husband's judgment. He says it's perfect. Of course, he is a bit prejudiced. I keep my pussy trimmed close, namely because he likes it that way, but also because I have a very prominent clitoris, and when there's not much hair covering it, it seems more sensitive to the touch, or the tongue!
My hair is red, shoulder length. Green eyes, freckles, and wet lips. It seems my lips are naturally wet, but I do wear a high sheen lip gloss. I have long red nails, don't wear a lot of eye makeup, but have very long lashes. I guess I'll do in a pinch. I should confess also, I'm a bit of an exhibitionist. I love to have men admire me, whistle, pant, chant, lust, and on most occasions, even touch me. This works out well, because Patrick's weakness is voyeurism. What a match we make. I love to show it, and he loves to watch me do it! We've been swinging since '88, and it just gets better and better.
I should also confess that we play a lot of games, and most of them centre around one or the other of us being humiliated, or at least dominated by the other. It doesn't seem to matter who does which, but in almost all our games, the underlying current is one of power and control. I guess that would sum us up. We are both control type people, and we made an unspoken arrangement years ago that in our sexual games, we would take turn controlling and being controlled.
Oh, and one more thing. I absolutely love to suck cock.
So, getting back to last night, I decided that I'd pick my husband up wearing nothing under my raincoat except the articles I've already described. I wanted to excite him as quickly as possible. I hadn't decided if I'd flash him at the airport, or if I'd wait till we got to the car, but I knew that part of the plan would involve me riding home naked, or damn near.
The only other thing I wore were a pair of pumps we'd bought in Los Angeles a few years back. They were the highest heels I owned, somewhere around five inches. Patrick says I always look like I need to be fucked when I wear them. And he's right. I decided to take the Lincoln instead of my two seater. If things went as I hoped, part of the ride home from the airport would involve a cock in my mouth, and there's more room in the front of the Lincoln for such activities. Oh, one more thing. Just before I left the house, I'd been chatting with a really hot guy on the BBS. I told him that I had to get my husband, but that I'd call him back when we got home. Unfortunately for him, I never got to call him back. I'm sure he'll forgive me though, when I explain how the night went.
The ride to the airport was pretty uneventful. I'd stopped for gas, (Patrick's car always seems to be on empty) and couldn't help flirting with the guy at the gas station. He was very nice, and offered to clean my windows for me. I knew what he wanted, but didn't have time to give it to him. Besides, I wanted to be nice and clean for Patrick. I did give him a nice peek at my legs, however. In fact, I'm sure he saw quite a bit more than just my legs. I made sure of that. After he'd finished with the windows, I asked him if he could vacuum the floorboards for me. He couldn't wait! I stayed in the car, shifting my legs over the hump while he vacuumed the floor boards, giving him a real view of my pussy! I needed that! It seems the more men see of me, the hotter I get. And I was already hot enough to start a forest fire! But time was short, though I could tell by the bulge in his pants that time was the only thing short around there. I made a mental note to come back there sometime when I had more time.
I got to the airport with a few minutes to spare. Checking my watch, I realized I was about ten minutes early. Not bad considering I am a terrible judge of time and distances. I sat in the car, listening to the CD player until I saw his plane approach the runway. We live in a small town, about a hundred miles from Dallas, and our airport is nothing to brag about. I knew this plane must be his. As it landed, I made my way into the terminal and waited by the luggage area. This wasn't the first time I'd picked him up here, and I pretty much knew the drill. I waited by the wall closest to the door he'd enter. I still hadn't decided when or how I'd flash him. I wasn't worried about someone else seeing us, I'm not the shy type. But I was concerned that someone we knew might be there as well, so I thought I'd play it cool till I was sure about the situation. I needn't have worried. Six other people came down the concourse. I didn't know any of them. Patrick saw me almost at once. He smiled at me and started to wave.
I reached up to the belt on my coat, and in one movement, unhooked it, allowing the coat to fall open. I could see by the look on my husband's face that he'd seen what I was showing him. His face actually registered shock! And trust me, it's not easy to shock Patrick! I closed the coat almost as quickly as I'd opened it, and walked over to him. Patrick is almost a foot taller than me, and even with heels, I had to reach to press my lips to his. After almost a week apart, neither one of us wanted just a peck on the cheeks. Not the facial cheeks at least. We must have had our lips locked on each other's for at least a full minute. It was long enough to feel his tongue reclaim the inside of my mouth, and vice versa.
He kisses sooooo good! By the time we let go of each other, I was already soaking wet between my legs, and if I knew my man, his cock was bone hard as well. I whispered in his ear, "Did I surprise you?"
"Yes. I was surprised. But you know, I wasn't the only one who saw it. I'm sure all the other men standing next to me noticed you as well."
"Oh. I hope they don't think badly of me. I just wanted to show my hubby what he was going to get!" I couldn't help but giggle. I knew this line of prattle would sound inane to anyone listening, but it was serving a purpose. I was building up to what I wanted to hear. "You know, I wouldn't want just anyone to see my pussy and tits."
"Yes you would, darling. You know, a nice girl wouldn't be dressed like this, would she?" Patrick always knows what to say to me.
"Are you trying to say I'm not a nice girl?"
"I not trying to say anything, Rachael. You know what you are."
"What am I?"
"You're a very sweet person, and a wonderful wife, but I'm afraid you are a bit of a slut."
"How can you say that?"
"Easily, sweetie. Now, you are a whore, aren't you?"
I looked down at my feet, as if contemplating what he'd said, and looked back up at him, not able to keep the smile out of my eyes. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I do seem to be a bit of a whore."
"But that's all right. Because I like whores." He added warmly.
"Let's go home. I need you so bad!"
"Have you been a good girl while I was gone?"
