Page 21 of My Wife

His voice sounds strange. Lower than normal. Because it’s so late and he hasn’t gone to bed yet? That happens to me sometimes. I use my voice too much that it becomes raspy and unfamiliar, just like Tommy’s.

My body recognizes his, though. His touch makes it sing, and with a tit in each palm, caging me against him with his arms around me and his cock buried to the hilt inside of me, it’s a fucking symphony of sensation.

He’s tweaking my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure running through me. As he slowly starts to move his hips, taking leisurely thrusts that he punctuates with another tug on my tits, I throw my head back against him and moan.

It’s been a long day. I wouldn’t mind him taking his time, worshiping my body like he loves to do, but when his fucking takes on an urgency, like he’s racing a clock somewhere, I’mgrateful. A quickie and then a couple of more hours’ sleep sounds perfect, and Tommy seems to be on the same page.

He knows me so well. My sounds change, becoming quicker, my moans louder the closer I get to climaxing. Right when I’m on the verge, he flicks my clit and the pressure building up inside of me explodes. I shriek, and Tommy bites down on my shoulder.

Now that I’ve come, he fucks me like, if he doesn’t finish andnow, he might just explode next.

I let him. I lay there and take it, and when he bucks up inside of me, filling me with his come, I stroke his thigh possessively even as my eyes begin to close again.

He holds me closer, whispering softly against my skin. “Love you, baby.”

That shows just how boneless and relaxed the orgasm he gave me just made me. I don’t even tense up or react when he uses Clay’s pet name for me.

I just stay connected to him, letting him thrust gently into me as I pillow my head on my hands and drift back to unconsciousness.

I wakeup to a little tenderness down below and my thighs sticking together.

Ah, crap. I’m usually so much better at remembering to get up, pee, and tidy up after sex. I was prone to getting UTIs when I first started sleeping with Tommy as a teen, and after the third one, my mother flat-out asked if we were sexually active. We were fifteen, young and stupid, and lucky that we never had a pregnancy scare since, even then, I knew I never wanted to have kids.

My mom was great. No judgment from her, though she helped me get on birth control almost immediately. I got the safe sex lecture, too—and a box of condoms that we tried our best to remember to use—plus some advice to keep the UTIs from coming back.

The amount of come slicking my legs closed tells me that Tommy didn’t bother grabbing one of the condoms he promised he packed in his duffel bag. It happens. Sometimes he’s so eager to get inside of me, we’re already fucking before it hits me that he’s bareback. I’ve never gone off birth control, though I rely on an IUD now, plus we’re exclusive so it doesn’t really bother me when he forgets to wrap up as long as I remember to clean up when we’re done.

I didn’t last night. There was something about how he fucked me in the dark of the cabin, an unfamiliar place, purposely thrusting up into me from behind. I didn’t see his face. He barely spoke, except for panting my name and grunting as he came. In the haze that came from being half awake as he fucked me, I could fantasize that he was anyone.

My stomach goes uneasy as I remember the dreams that followed me after he banged me to sleep.

Clay. Once Tommy got me off, then came inside of me, he refused to let his cock slips out. I could sense how much he needed the connection, and the euphoria that slammed into me when he plucked my clit and I screamed faded so quickly, I drifted back into unconsciousness while warming his cock.

Obviously, he pulled away at some point in the night. Now he’s sleeping next to me, deliciously shirtless, though he has his jeans on. The flies open, zipper down, his dick tucked inside of his pants. One arm is thrown over his face, shielding him against the sunlight streaming in through the window.

For a moment, I think about reaching into his pants and pulling him out. He banged some of my anxiousness out of melast night, and I’ve got the evidence of our mutual enjoyment still between my thighs. I’m in a much better mood today. Assuming he freshened up himself since he’s redressed, I like the idea of taking care of his morning wood with my mouth.

Morning sex sounds good, too. I mean. I need to shower again anyway. Why not wait until we both get good and sweaty? And if I like the idea of waking up our cabin neighbors with the inevitable scream I let out? Can’t help it. I’m a screamer, and when I have a partner who knows how to work my body like it belongs to him, I’m not shy about letting others know that.

Just before I scoot closer to him, it’s another scream that rents through the air. An unholy scream, high-pitched and frantic, I freeze in place.

Did I hear that?

It rings out again, full of agony, and I know I didn’t imagine it.

Tommy didn’t rouse at the first scream? With the second? He jerks awake, slapping himself in the face. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he rubs his forehead, looking for me.

“Cyn?” He frowns. “What’s going on?”

I have no fucking clue.

“I heard a scream. Two of them. It came from outside.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought I heard, too. Kinda thought it was a dream, but… Wait.” There’s a nightstand on each side of the bed. Tommy’s phone and the key to our cabin are sitting on top of his. He grabs the phone, tilting it to see the time. “It’s almost ten.”

Shit. We slept in that late? I mean, I know we didn’t get back to the cabin until almost one. Then Vee and Tyler went searching for some bogeyman she thought she saw, followed by Summer and Tommy going searching forthem. I don’t know how late it was when Tommy came back and we had sex before falling asleep together.

So it’s not as early as I thought. But that doesn’t change anything.

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