Thank You Dave

It's not just another Sunday morning in Ohio. Outside the wind is howling, the snow coming horizontally. It's bitterly cold, the wind chills headed below zero and only getting colder all day long. Absolutely artic outside. Inside and my husband's pecker is now well satisfied. He's got no idea what made his dear, loyal, obedient wife so cooperative but it makes sense to me. It usually isn't this cold and he never gets pussy on Sunday morning, but it's logical. The moron has never read Literotica.

Not the web site writings so much as the words of one of its most loyal readers. My idiot husband never got an e-mail from Dave. Trust me, sweetheart, that's all it took on this miserable day to move me from the gray haired piece of furniture I usually am to my husband to a most demanding woman who was going to get some. That I got and I've got to say it right now for the world to see. Thank you, Dave. I'd say he really liked what your simple words can inspire.

Don't get me wrong, Dave and I have never met other than half a dozen e-mails. He was kind enough to write to me to say some nice things about what I've already put on the site. It was only natural to answer back and downplay his praise. After all, everybody can write, whether they want to or not. Most just have to break lose and just do it. That's what I told Dave, don't read my stuff, write your own and enjoy it all. Early this Sunday morning that's exactly what my friend did. Damn, this man can write.

Twice I read an account of a daydream he's had, each time savoring every word, every thought, every direction my friend took. I could not only imagine it, I could feel what he wants with his lady. Sweet, tender, passionate, all of that and more. It truly was what the web site is supposed to be about, erotic literature. It's just the added bonus of what it could lead to for some. What it did lead to here.

I've said it before, I'll say it again, I'm an honest woman. I was turned on reading Dave's work. He didn't direct it at seducing me, make no mistake, he was just telling a most beautiful story. His daydream, some women's dream. I read it the third time, answered him back as politely as I could and knew I had three choices. Try to ignore what I was feeling, take care of the urge myself, or put out. Trust me, once you've been married more than thirty years, it is a difficult decision.

On that I am totally, completely serious. After all these years and three gorgeous daughters, it isn't that hard to just ignore certain feelings now and then. I suppose it comes from doing without. Then again I am still a woman, not an over-the-hill and I do get those feelings. Getting myself off is something I've done since I was twelve, I admit it and it's good, but it's not reality. Then again it is my husband, a feast or famine concept when it comes to mating any more. It took some thought but I am creative, at least according to the e-mails Dave had sent in the past. More importantly, I needed laid. Real bad.

So, with the fourth read of pure erotica, the plan was formed. It's Sunday morning, husband in the kitchen reading the paper. I sauntered over to the bedroom, just out of sight, and took off my sweatshirt and bra. The denim shirt would do, on but not buttoned. Just hanging on my shoulders, the lapels pulled back. From the bedroom to the bath, snatching up a towel. One look in the mirror and I gave myself a grin. It just might work after all.

"Hey babe, going to wash my hair in the sink," I mentioned as I slinked into the kitchen, pausing as he looked up from the paper. Thank God he must have shut off his stupidity meter when he got up this morning. He stared, I stared in return. He started to grin, I cocked my head as if to ask if anything was wrong. Oh, David, you would have been so very proud of me.

No words, just sounds. I could hear every sound so very clear. The newspaper didn't seem to be important, the pages falling to the table. His chair sliding back, away from the table. The towel falling from my hands. His footsteps towards me, I could hear it all and so much more.

I heard us kissing just before I heard him tear the shirt off my shoulders. His hands were on me, I should have been feeling, but I was hearing. Hearing his shirt come off, hearing his kisses, hearing him begin to suckle at my nipples. Hell, I even heard them pop to attention. I could hear my lust and his, his zipper going down, my jeans coming off. Baby, I heard me beg, "Come on."

Come on he did, his wife begging for a bang. I heard him get me into the living room, knowing we'd never make it up the steps to the bedroom. The sound of my panties jerked off was loud, but not as loud as the sound of the wetness in my pussy. I could actually hear it when I spread my legs. I could hear him press against me, I heard his cock enter me, I heard him press against me and I heard his lust grunts grow louder and louder. Simple words on an e-mail, now animal passion on our couch. I heard his cock exploding inside me as I quivered and then heard my own come answer back. Not an ordinary Sunday at all, baby. Not at all.

He actually thanked me for letting him get some, that was nice of him. Not really, a woman in need doesn't need thanked. Especially by the lout she married saying the words as he showed his appreciation by flicking my nipples with his fingers. Not a turn on, idiot. Sorry but it hurts, especially to a freshly banged woman. My breasts get tender when they're suckled but thank God it was my husband, not my lover. My lover's feeding goes on and on, but that's another matter. Bottom line, husband thanks me but Dave, I thank you.

You, darling. You, the man I've only met over the e-mail. Sugar, you made it possible for me to feel so very, very good today and I do thank you, from the bottom of my heart. From my very soul but honey? I need a favor. If you can. Don't feel bad if you can't, but if so, please.

After all, Valentine's Day is just ahead......and the week after.........and after that. Honey? My lover is coming then. Do you suppose........? Well, maybe.......if you could write something else......Similar..........Like just before he gets here.....

I sure would appreciate it...............and so will he. Like the guy on TV says, I guarantee it.