Passionate Home Alone Sex


I often find myself blogging about stunning love-making sessions with my hubby. This is not the regular sex. By our standards, regular sex is when we help each other, almost every morning, to regulate our hormones and grow a comfy smile on our faces before stepping out of bed to deal with another day. The purpose of regular sex in marriage is to give me a decent orgasm and him an ejaculation. Our morning routine has her variations (cuddling with masturbation, missionary or cowgirl, face sitting or pussy eating) and her constants (the sixty-nine) when I’m really not asleep…

With all the methods and positions above, we can hardly consider our regular sex to be boring. We’re in love like mad and love is anything but boring, remember? But why then we still call it “regular?” Because of the following list of restraining factors.

1. I cannot scream! A true deep orgasm spells out in a vibrant scream. I have to roar before I’m really done. And if I’m not allowed to scream, not to disturb kids’ sleep upstairs, then I can’t call it a true deep orgasm, just a regular one.

2. Our intercourse has to be done with much care, not to screech the bed, not to make noises.

3. No music, no strip tease. This means a longer and slower masturbation for hubby.

You guessed right: we call it regular sex when someone is sleeping upstairs and the locked kitchen door stops only the undesired incidental access but won’t halt the sounds, the amazing music that we make when having outstanding sex.

 

Making Passionate Love in Marriage

As I mentioned before, if you love your spouse then you can’t have boring sex, just regular. To spice it up, you may plan a romantic sortie, do something risqué in public, or at home. What can be “risqué” at home? Exactly what we just did yesterday afternoon — after the great kids came and took out the little ones for a couple of hours. Once they all left and I closed the gate, I told hubby: “Just sex, no photos, agree?” He did. He shared my relaxation and passionate desire because we had no chance of remaining home alone with ourselves for many weeks.

What I usually notice at him, physically, when we’re home alone, is that his dick takes a fabulous shape and hardness. I could see that evolution in front of my eyes as he asked me to sit on his face. Minutes later I laid for a sixty-nine, just for a taste before having his dick in my pussy and riding him round and round. I do this quite often, but what I felt yesterday afternoon in me it was like what I felt in early May — I guess — when we were home alone — about this I am certain!

As he laid on his back, he gave me a first orgasm while riding and pushing and feeling his hard head hitting me right beneath my love button, on the inside, in that sweet spot. I rubbed on him until I screamed. Then I asked him to ride me as I laid down in missionary. Which he obliged, thus keeping me moaning on the departing waves of my first orgasm. Until I let go my second climax, in a roar that resonated, throughout the open windows, all the way across the backyard.

“Lick me! Lick me now!” I told him while I was still shaking. And he did just that, my beloved Toy Boy. He really loves to play the sexual slave with me, his Domina. And let me tell you that I don’t mind. Not a bit!

My third came milder because I was already exhausted. Trembling again, I asked him to retire his tongue. But my “slave” won’t listen. Actually he never does when I call the retreat. Unless I offer him a strip tease. So I said “Let me dance for you!” Which turned him on the back in an instant, eyes wide opened for the promised show, hand jacking on his still strong hammer.

As I danced, I sang — because he forgot to put some real music when we started. This is what happens when you get too excited: you miss important details for the background. Eventually, my dancing and my voice (as he keeps telling me) had him ejaculate a fair amount of sperm, which spotted the bed in three different directions and (hang on), because he previously kept calling me to jump in when he comes, I hurried up to ride him and — amazingly — he had a few drops left for my vagina. This is BIG NEWS because it’s been years since I received an ejaculation inside my vagina.

The only downside of this wonderful love-making was that we couldn’t cap it up with la boule de neige. Although he proposed, but we were way too exhausted, even if only I declared that.

But things did not stop here. Not at all! Here comes the…

 

Risqué Post-Play, Our After Sex Outdoor Photo Shooting

Initially I asked Don for “sex only, no photos.” But after this amazing hour, with hormones titillating all over my skin, I changed my mind.

“Do you still wanna take some shots outside?”

“Oh yes. I dare you to pose naked right under the neighbor’s windows. Will ya?”

“Done! Let me get my nightgown, think I’ll strip a bit, since you got me in the mood.”

He jumped in his bermudas — it’s not nice for the photo man to wag it. But it’s expected for me to candidly walk bare soles on the lawn, to drop my nightgown and show off. I must admit, with a cold mind now, that after several celestial orgasms I had the courage to do this photo shooting. Courage or madness? Don’t know.

To the evening, when they returned from the spa, I asked the kids if they saw our neighbors there. And they said that they noticed the wife of our neighbor but not him. Well, most likely they use to go together. Every summer day. I know that. My intuition tells me that they were not at home.

“But who can tell for sure if he wasn’t watching you from behind the curtains? No one gave you the proof that he was at the spa as well.” — rants Don from his fantasy world, and from his fantasy photo site.

Well, here we are: reality just ended, taking my story with it. The rest is men’s daydreaming

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