Another short story about Paul and Dana -- a married couple who are not afraid to push the boundaries of sexual pleasure within and outside their relationship. It's one of many stories I'm slowly piecing together about their sexual odyssey from marriage into retirement. In this episode, Paul eagerly anticipates an intimate evening alone with Dana just like the one my wife and I enjoyed last night.
If you are a man reading this, please pass this story on to your wife, or partner, for her reading pleasure. I appreciate all constructive feedback - especially from women who are my target audience.
.......
Earlier in the week, Dana and I innocuously marked tonight on the calendar as "date night".
We arranged for the kids to be at friends for an overnight. I've been thinking about what we might do. Dana will have been wondering what I have in mind. She'll have caught herself at work smiling while reflecting on what we've done in the past. She'll roll her eyes at my almost childish anticipation but be aroused by the memories of the animal like lust fueled within us by these nights.
Library patrons would never guess what the smartly dressed innocent looking woman behind the front counter today is thinking. In fact, they'd be shocked. If they were to look closer though, they'd see she's not as innocent as she first appears. They'd notice an extra button undone on her blouse discretely revealing the start of a tantalizing cleavage bordered by full, round breasts. As she reaches forward to take their book for check out, they'd see bright red polish on her closely cut nails. They may even catch a glimpse of the fine lace trim of a bright floral Aubade bra. If they were caught looking, they'd be greeted by her beguiling smile.
It takes time to shift gears from being a librarian, mother of two children and wife to a woman willing to push the boundaries of her sexuality. Normally, Dana's shy to begin. She warms though and, if I stoke her, she becomes hot. I mean, very hot.
When she arrives home, she'll agree, reluctantly, to lie on the bed naked and spread her legs so that I'm able to shave her smooth. She'll say she's humouring me. I'll leave just a small tuft of light-coloured pubic hair above her opening. She'll put on the clothes I lay out -- a black under bust corset, black thigh high stockings, black high heels and a black tuxedo like jacket with faux leather lapels. She'll tie her black and silver, large gemstone necklace around her neck and check herself in the mirror before coming downstairs to join me in the living room.
We'll have "happy hour" usually shortly after five pm. Her favourite drink is a dry German Riesling. She ordered "nine inches" once at a restaurant. She meant ounces. It was a Freudian slip. The waitress said she'd see what she could find. I'll have a gin martini, stirred, with a couple of olives.
We'll talk about some of the exciting moments we've experienced over the years. I might show her a few pictures I've recently found on-line and reposted on my Tumblr account. Or we might review some of the intimate pictures I've taken of her that we don't share with others. I have them secretly stored and sometimes scroll through them for my personal excitement when by myself. They continue to arouse me. I may even give her this story to read.
The Hasselback potatoes will already be in the oven. Part way into our drink, I'll get the barbeque going and put on the steak. She'll take off her jacket and come to the dining room table with her breasts on full display framed by the under bust. She'll be waiting for my reaction to the dangling gold and red tulip pendants. They'll be suspended on a black elastic cord pulled taut around the base of each thick dark brown nipple.
I'll pour myself a glass of Australian Shiraz. She'll have a second, smaller glass of her white. She'll be sitting erect, shoulders back, proud of the effect she is obviously having on me. We'll continue our conversation as my eyes drink her in. Occasionally, I'll reach over and drag the tips of my fingers admiringly over her breasts or tug on her nipples that are kept swollen as a pencil eraser by the weight and movement of the pendants. My lust for her will be palpable. I'll know by her smile, and by the way she breathes deeply, that she's enjoying my attention.
