Spectacular

Spectacular, spectacular. No words in the vernacular
Can describe this great event
You'll be dumb with wonderment

I borrowed the words from Moulin Rouge, but they still apply.

After we retired to our bedroom for the night, I settled down in his arms. I asked him if he'd like for me to do more of the heavy lifting for our interaction per Duality's most excellent suggestion, and he turned me down cold. "That doesn't sound nearly as enjoyable." We talked a bit more, and I told him I just didn't want him to wear himself out, that I was okay with working harder.

He thanked me for my concern, reiterated that he was fine, that it wasn't necessary, then started kissing me. Long, slow, languorous kissing that was steamy hot even before his hand made its way to my throat, spread itself there, and squeezed. I made pleased noises into his mouth that got louder as his hand grew tighter, and he kept tightening it. He squeezed probably harder than he's ever done and I made my pleasure at this sensation known with my gasps of delight. "I don't touch you enough," he whispered, letting go of my throat and sliding both of his hands under my nightshirt and all over my body. I purred. He pushed the shirt up over my head and off my body, then kept stroking me heatedly, ending with his hands cupping my breasts.

Perfect

He whispered into my ear as he climbed into bed behind me, wrapping his arms around me: "You know what my problem is with you?"

"Um...no?" I had no idea what he could be talking about, but was curious to hear.

"My problem with you is you're just too damn good all the time." He kissed my cheek. "You're always saying nice things to me, doing nice things for me. You just don't give me a reason to punish you." He traced a fingertip along my jaw line, ran it along my parted lips, inducing shivers all along my spine. I moaned softly and turned my head away. "I suppose I could punish you for being so fucking perfect all the time." He spread his hand out against my throat, pressing gently. "Kiss me."

Libidinousness

Say it with me. Feel how it rolls off the tongue.

I read this word in a post, and I have always been a fan of the word "libidinous," but to add the -ness suffix to it? Sheer brilliance! I started this post with this topic before I had any actual material to put here. Handily, life handed me some lemons, so I'll make a post with them.

Heat transfer

It's been getting colder here. Not as cold as at home, but cold enough to lead to a little discomfort, and his feet have always lost heat in a hurry.

He joined me in bed, warning me that his legs were cold. I snuggled up to him, placing his feet on my inner thigh and closing my other leg over them, enveloping his feet with the warmth of my body. I had been there under the blankets for 20 minutes by then, so I was very warm. I shivered with the cold on my thighs.

He almost purred with pleasure, stroking my head. "I'm a lucky man. I'm pretty sure not many wives would do this."

"I am for you." I nuzzled his chest.

"Hey.. don't I remember you saying things like 'keep those icy cold feet away from me!'?"

"Yeah. I've always been yours, but you didn't always want to take me."

"Hey now, wait a minute! I've always wanted you!"

"Of course, love... but not like this."

"I see. So if I had taken you, grabbed you, held your throat and kissed you," he stopped and did just that, tilting my head the long way up to him, "ordered you around then, you'd have done this then as well?"

"Pretty much."

Funny how he didn't ask these questions last winter when I started doing this.

Last winter, when he punished me for not warming up his side of the bed for him.

It's a shame the winter here will be so mild.

Fantasy

I had a brief fantasy session, and I told him I had. He asked me what I was thinking while I touched myself.

I responded coyly "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Well, yes, I would." What an annoying thing it must be to hear "wouldn't you like to know?" when you've clearly just asked to be told something.

I have a crush

I can't stop thinking about him. For years, now. People still say we're newlyweds, that the shine will rub off, but how can that apply when our nuptials were so, so long ago? Maybe those people just married the wrong partners.

Last night rocked.

"I want you to kiss my cock for me. No sucking, now.. don't suck that hard thing down into that hot slutty mouth of yours.. just kiss it."

So I did. I kissed wetly all along the hard hot shaft, rubbing my cheeks against it, licking, kissing. For a long, long time.

"Don't suck it, or I'll have to hurt you."

In which I call him names and curse at him

He was holding me in bed, his chin resting on my shoulder, rubbing my arm and back, mostly silent. Long silences punctuated with words, a stilted conversation. He wanted to heal my pain, to fix it.

"I wish I'd stayed home." I snapped when he asked me to talk to him.

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."