Slow, sensual Sunday

Sunday was something really special, in the all-day sense of special.

We woke up, as always, in love. His arms were wrapped around me and we were stroking each other for some time. I felt his erection pressing against me, and I wanted it. He let me suck him off, but we didn't have long to linger, as we could hear our little one playing in the next room.

Afterward, he drew me up and held me against his chest, gently stroking my hair, my arms, my back. I could feel all the love and reverence he feels for me in his touch.

"I'm really turned on right now," I told him.

"I know you are," he responded, squeezing me close. "I know what turns you on," he paused for a time, here, "and that was one of the things."

But alas, we had things to do and places to be. We got up, had a family breakfast of tofu scramble and homemade hash browns. Every time we passed each other he touched me gently. His hand stroked my leg under the table while we ate.

We had somewhere to be - a fun event. He went to shave and I followed him. "What are you doing?" he turned to ask me, smiling.

"Following you like a puppy," I responded as his arms enfolded me in a warm hug, his hand coming up to stroke my hair and press my head against his chest. "Love you so much," I whispered into his shirt.

"Mmmm, love you too," he said, tugging slightly on my hair, "but I was coming to shave."

"You can shave!" I told him. I wasn't there to bother him. He proceeded to the vanity right outside the bathroom and I followed him there, sinking to my knees and kneeling behind him, running my hands over his legs. He finished shaving and turned around, stroking my head as I wrapped my arms around him and gazed up at him. It felt so good, so right, there, just to be like that.

Little boy came along and wanted to join in the hug; on my knees, I'm about his height. Spell momentarily broken, but that's okay, just replaced by a giggling family hug. Fluid.

His hand on my thigh for nearly an hour, in total, while I drove us there and back. The event itself was fun, but heavily crowded and so we spent most of the time apart. In a crowd, it's far easier to move if you're not attached to anyone.

A takeout lunch at home - his hand on my leg under the table again. I didn't even know if he was conscious of just how much he was touching me this day. Our little one played and we went to read in bed, snuggled up together. After a while I ditched my Nook and just enjoying being there, my head on his chest, while he continued reading on his phone, his free hand stroking my hair. I was very near to falling asleep like that.

Each time he touched me I felt adored. His love poured into my skin from his fingertips.

Dinner. Sundays zoom by so quickly, don't they?

I went in to the bedroom quite early, to make a new flogger. I'm limiting myself to one a week. After he got the little one settled, he came to join me. When we finally curled into the bed together, he cupped my face and kissed me, a long, slow kiss that spoke of devotion and reverence and adoration. His other hand roamed my skin with that same gentleness, and then he spoke. "I'm thinking I might be too tired to make love to you tonight," he said.

I nuzzled close to him. "You already are making love to me," I told him. He had been making love to me all day.

We kept touching each other, slow lazy loving strokes that set my nerve endings to tingling. His cock sprang to life. I gently stroked it, too. "Are you too tired for a blow job?" I asked him.

"Mmm, no... I think I might like that."

I turned around to kneel next to his head and I took his cock into my mouth. Deeper, deeper, into my throat. I love giving head when he's tired because I don't gag nearly as quickly if he doesn't move. His hands kept loving on me as I sucked. Each time I drew back for a long, shuddering, shaky breath I got more turned on. Taking him so deeply makes my eyes and nose run though, after a time, no matter what I do. I had the best intentions of keeping on like that until he came, but my nose had other ideas. I hadn't considered that him not moving so much also increases his ability to hold out.

I curled next to him after blowing my nose, and he slid his cock inside me from behind. "I guess it's not just the holes in my head that leak when I do that," I commented.

Slowly, half-asleep already, he took his pleasure with me. Which was all I'd wanted, to give him pleasure.

Afterward, before he fell asleep, I asked if he had enough energy to plug my ass, and if he minded if I played with myself.

He didn't mind, on either count.

So he worked the plug into my ass, pressing it all the way in while I whimpered, whispering into my ear for me to take it. He pressed against it even after it was in, for good measure, and then he let his hands roam tiredly over my body while I gave myself two orgasms with the Pure Wand, which was quite intense with the plug already in.

Finally as exhausted as him, I snuggled into his welcoming, mostly asleep embrace.

Sometimes I wish I was a poet, that a lyrical sort of writing came as easily to me as prose does. How I do love him.