Although this blog is entitled of Sex and Love, I don’t often talk about the love aspect much. I don’t really talk about there sex that much, come to think of it. As it happens, I spend more time thinking about sex than actually having it and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. As much as I didn’t want to post explicitly about my sex life under my real name, I feel hesitant to post too much identifying information about my love life here. Still I thought I could at least introduce you to the object of both my love and desire: my husband.
We met online over 5 years ago. We both weren’t looking for anyone and our relationship started out sexually charged. It has stayed that way ever since. There is never a day when he isn’t groping my breasts or my ass and while it can be a bit annoying (I insisted on a no funny business in the kitchen rule!), it’s also insanely flattering. The way he is so easily aroused by just lying next to me is incredibly arousing in itself and he has never once made me feel that he thinks of me anything less of beautiful.
In bed, he’s quick to profess how he’s missed being inside me, missed tasting me. He showers me with compliments and is always eager to have his face between my legs, mouth working around my clit. I cannot help but smile as I see him move his hand beneath him to stroke his own cock as he does this, like clockwork. Seeing him so turned on by me, by pleasing me, only turns me on.
We will be married 4 years this summer. Unfortunately, I don’t think he will be able to be here for our anniversary as he is currently deployed. Such was the case for our first anniversary as well; although he still sent me roses which I kept by my bed until not a petal was left.
He is goofy and cute, funny and real. This adorable awkwardness is how I knew he was real when we chatted online, staying up until all hours of the morning as we shared naughty pictures and racy words. He is simply the best partner I’ve ever found at cybersex and I would often feel the thrill rushing through my veins, my pussy dripping wet as we typed back and forth.
I miss how he makes me laugh. Sometimes I do something and imagine how he might make fun of me. I miss his voice. I miss the voice he would use in bed, slightly lowered and whispering into my ear. I miss feeling his body next to me, even just as we sleep. I miss crawling into bed next to him, kissing the skin on his back and cuddling close. I miss spooning, his cock hard against my ass. Even if nothing would happen, he was ever-erect.
I miss grasping his hair, my hand on the back of my head as he goes down on me. I miss leaning over him, brushing my lips and tongue over his chest, skin perfectly smooth. I loved to leave marks and he loved to be marked. It lets the world know that he is mine. Before he left, he asked to do the same to me and sucked on my own neck. I never looked in the mirror to see if it left a mark. I wish I would have.
I miss the look and the feel of his hips. So fucking sexy. I miss groping and grabbing him. I miss humping and grinding against him, his leg, his hip, his cock, his face. I miss coming together and falling asleep after.
I could kick myself for not doing that more often. I will when he returns.
Categories: Everything Else
