Like I said, Valentine’s Day is a bigger deal for us now than it used to be. I guess we usually went out to dinner. Maybe always? What I remember most of all is I usually didn’t think to make a reservation until like 2 weeks before and everything was booked. But now that I recognize my wife’s divinity, and like really really love her more than ever, maybe I’m trying harder. Anyway, it was really good.
We went out to Talula’s Garden, on Washington Square in Philadelphia. A very nice restaurant, great cocktails, not a lot of veggie food so we ordered fish dishes, both of which were excellent. The only thing is it’s supposed to be a romantic restaurant, but they seated us (and a million other couples) at two-tops that were packed in so close that you were closer to the stranger next to you than to your date. Not great for sweet nothings or dirty talk.
We couldn’t get the young out of the house. I had paid for some housecleaners to do a deep cleaning, and I worked out tons that week to make sure I was as hard and pumped up as much as ever. She wore a skin-tight dress, classy and totally rocking & sexy. I wore a suit I got recently, kind of a glossy blue color (but understated) with a turtleneck. Later she put on one of the lingerie sets, the black one with the whatever you call it, the half bra where her nipples peeked out just barely above the edge of the fabric, and super classy and hot black see-through panties. She looked amazing. As she always does. We fucked like people truly, deeeply, inevitably, eternally in love. It was another best ever night. Valentine’s Day worked. It may be a stupid corporate holiday but it gives me another opportunity to worship my wife, and there’s nothing artificial about that. It worked and it was fantastic.
One of these nights, I don’t know which one at this point, we did some cowgirl again. She usually feels too dizzy to just get on top and do the work the regular way, me lying on my back, her on top. But I mean really cowgirl, like the first time I was more or less crab walking, up on my feet, holding myself up with one arm behind me, the other holding her by the waist (she’s skinny enough and my hands are big enough to get hold of her even with just one hand), and she’s bouncing up and down on me, feet on the bed and tits bouncing everywhere, hair flying like crazy. I actually don’t know how we got there. It’s not like she climbed up on me, so there must have been some intermediate position before I arched my back up and started bucking her like a wild stallion.
This time I remember better. We were pausing for water. I was on my knees, sitting back. She sidled up on her knees and straddled me, sliding her pussy down over my pulsating rod, and we fucked, my arms around her waist and pulling her whole torso against my abs. As we got more and more into it, I grasped her waist firmly with both hands, and straightened up so I was still on my knees but raising myself up and lifting her with my pelvis her legs wrapped around me. As I thrusted I started lifting her higher and higher with my hands, raising her the entire length of my massive cock, and then slamming her back down onto me with the full power of my arms, core, butt and thighs. Each time taking me all the way in, my cock hammering her cervix, she failed to contain herself, screaming in pleasure and submission. Over that few minutes she came constantly, cresting at more than a dozen peaks, then releasing but never falling below the threshold of ecstasy. I was on a higher plane, well beyond the point at which I could come but never letting myself let go and never letting myself come down. I pre-came, my penis lurching, begging me to let my balls explode, but I wasn’t ready to stop. She came one last time, hard, her body collapsing into ataxia, tingling everywhere and paralyzed by the electricity. In my tantric state I stroked my cock, wet with her secretions, letting it throb a bit longer but not letting it go, feeling the pleasure of the power I have over the most fuckable woman in the world.
One strange thing. She doesn’t remember it. She didn’t remember the other cowgirl incident either. I told her about it the next day. She said “what good is all this if I don’t remember?” But a) now when I call her “cowgirl” at the right moment it makes her gasp and come and b) I’m sitting here watching TV waiting for the weed to kick in, because she wanted to fuck my brains out for the second night in a row. I take that to mean she remembers at least the joy she feels, even if the details of the action overwhelm her ability to fully process what’s going on. Again–the sexiest, most beautiful, hottest woman in the world, the best fuck in the world, can’t get enough of me. She’s the goddess, and she makes me feel like a god.
One other thing to add. The day after V-day, she hung around on the couch watching TV all day. No kid was on the same floor as us, and she kept wiggling her muff at me and making cute little desperate moans, to let me know she needed servicing. I probably gave her 30 orgasms throughout the day until finally I went to get a vibrator and pulled out my dick and got hard while I was getting her off over and over. When she had had enough she leaned on her side, took me in her mouth and made me explode.
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