This morning, like a good majority of my mornings, I woke up aroused. I tend to sleep on my stomach and occasionally wake only to find my hips softly grinding into the bedsheets. This morning was not like that, I was on my back and any movement of the sheets, over my chest or groin, shot sparks through me. This morning there was one major difference though, I wasn’t the only one aroused.
I tend to sleep nude and have sleep pants folded on the ground one my side of the bed. Because the kids were moving about, something in me made me get up quicker than usual. I swung my legs out of our low, modern bed and sat there for a minute thinking. Right arm up, fingers pointed to the ceiling, I stretch my back. Left hand planted on the ground. Stretch, crack, repeat slowly on the other side. Bedside yoga. As I sat there trying to remember what I might have been dreaming about….
wife and I at an AirBnB being “one with nature” from a wicker loveseat overlooking an inlet in the Outer Banks,
that massage in Tulum, Mexico, but with a different ending,
that time in college with R on the dorm apartment roof while people continued to party below (with her girlfriends watching),
that NYC burlesque show and that woman with the amazing tassel skills,
a random fantasy with an old friend with benefits,
or maybe some tryst with a woman I recently caught staring at me in the market.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but whatever it was, I could feel my heart beat between my legs as I sat at the edge of the bed. I gave myself a few needed strokes…it’s difficult to keep my hands off. I like to watch my body adjust to direct physical attention…fetish maybe?
Something was stirring behind me. Wife rolled over and said, “I had the weirdest dream. You and I went to a European sex club.”
I took a deep breath as I turned and glanced at her. If my complexion could blush, I am sure I had just turned into a rose.
“There were a number of other people there, rooms to get happy endings, a large round table where we would gather for lunch. There was also this room where I was fitted with nipple clamps.”
I responded, “So, when are we going?”
She smiled, said nothing, but nuzzled deeper into the pillow she was hugging.
As I leaned down to grab my pants, I noticed that there were two, maybe three wet drops on the floor between my legs. I guess I emphatically approve of her dream. Rather than putting my pants on, I grab them, stand up, and walk to the bottom edge of the bed.
“I would love to show you off, let other’s watch. Maybe we could learn a thing or two.”
She blushed, I smirked.
I let us take in the moment. Let her look me over as I gazed upon her bare shoulders. Breasts still covered with the sheets, but I could make out her form, arched back, legs together.
More screaming from our child roommates.
Moment is over. I turned and walked off to the bathroom, proudly pointing my direction. I needed to clean myself and settle down before putting these pants on in order to tend to inmates. Ah, parenting!
Let’s just say, this morning’s quick conversation has made it very hard to focus today. The number of times I’ve revisited this conversation, those pre-thoughts, has certainly left its wet mark.
Also, I need to buy her some nipple clamps. Serious suggestions anybody?