To Have and to Hold

“Don’t say it like that, baby. You need to come back here and be reminded of it?” I know she’s going to say no, but I’m surprised when there is a knock on the door, and then it opens.

Standing in the doorway with a worried look, my stunning wife stands there. Dropping her hand to her side with her phone, she steps in and shuts the door. I’m up and on her in seconds, caging her to the back of the door.

“Goddammit, I love that look on your face but fucking hate it.”

“Why are we like this? Why are we so jealous?” she whispers, touching me, untucking my shirt, and finding my skin beneath my undershirt.

“Because we are that fucking crazy about one another. I never want that to change.”

She rakes her nails up and over my lower abs and obliques.

“Stop. Baby. Please. I can’t control myself much longer. It’s been too long since I’ve had you. Don’t make it worse.” Suddenly, she moves us, switching places with me. My back hits the door, and that spark my wife used to have in her eyes comes back to life. Working on my slacks, she looks up at my much taller frame hovering over her.

“I think you deserve to be reminded that I’m the only woman who can love you and fuck you just like you like it.” Dropping to her knees, she pulls my rock-hard cock free, and I groan. “You remember the way I first took this hard, long, thick cock in my mouth? How you had to teach me?”

I trained her to be able to take the full length without gagging.

“Baby?” I grab the sides of her head to warn her of what she’s about to do. But before another word can escape, she takes me—all of me—into her mouth, all the way to the back and down her throat. My head falls back, a thunk against the door, and I growl loudly, grabbing her hair and forgetting all gentleness.

Taking her head, I start to fuck her mouth like a madman. As I thrust in and out while moving her head to counter my movements, tears leave her eyes, but she never breaks eye contact with me, taking me like I taught her to. Like she was made just for me.

Oh yeah, that’s because she fucking was. No one can have her like this. But as much as I’m claiming ownership of her mouth, her throat, her entire being, the sinister look in those watery eyes remind me who I belong to.

“I’m going to come. Want me to pull out?” Unable to respond with a mouth filled with my cock, she winks, and that’s enough for me. “Fuck. Shit,” I hiss. Grabbing her by the back of her head and thrusting to the back, I drain myself down her throat. Moaning around my cock, she adds that to my pleasure.

“Yes, take it, beautiful. God, you’re so good with your mouth.” She thrives under my praise. When I’m finished, I pull her up off her knees, and she wipes the corners of her lips. “On the couch. Now,” I demand, sucking at her neck, squeezing one breast with one hand and her round ass cheek in the other.

Scarlett giggles. “No. That was for you to think of when you’re out tonight.”

Leaning back, I look her over. Her red cheeks and smeared mascara from the tears looks like a work of art.

“You were marking your territory, beautiful?”

“Yes, Sir. I wanted you to remember what you have at home waiting for you. Come home to me tonight, and be good.”

With that, she leaves me speechless, cock out and thoroughly pleased after an intense orgasm.

I’m going to ruin her tomorrow.

….

“A blindfold, David? Seriously? We’re nearly forty. What are you doing?” I ask as the car rolls to a stop at what I’m assuming is our destination. The night started out pretty safe—dinner, typical male talk at the casino bar as we watched the game. But once night came and the Strip started to liven up, he took us to his car and blindfolded me.

“Don’t be a dud, you fucking party pooper. You ready to see?”

Scoffing, I bust his chops. “No, please keep me blindfolded. Let’s hurry this up. I need to get home to my wife.”

“Whipped,” he mocks.

“Proudly. Now, can I take it off?”

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice giddy.

Removing the blindfold, I see we’re standing outside the most high-end strip joint on the Strip. Most of them here are seedy and dirty, but this one isn’t. You have to pay big money to enter, and the tips are only in twenty-dollar bills.

“You’re kidding me. I told you not like last time, you son of a bitch.”

“Oh, trust me; it won’t be. No stripper will be on you unless asked.” He shrugs in a proud, matter-of-fact tone.