Welcome Home, Babe

It was a warm summer day, and I was missing my husband something fierce; he had been away on a business trip, but  was due home any time. I wanted to do something special for him, and things were coming together.

I was wearing one of his favorite outfits — a simple, colorful, short summer dress, with spaghetti straps and a low neckline. And nothing else. I felt sexy and free as the soft, light fabric of the dress caressed my breasts; I went to the full-length bedroom mirror; my nipples were already hardening in anticipation of my man’s arrival.  I slipped on a beaded anklet, and checked my hair and makeup. Our home is just outside town, with a high-fenced backyard and a soaking tub, and most of what I had planned for my husband would take place there.

When he arrived, I stood on tiptoe and gave him a huge hug — I had missed him so much! — and a kiss that lingered on and on; his lips were so warm and alive on mine, our tongues teasing.

“Wow — I knew you said you were looking forward to me coming home, but that was quite a welcome,” he said. We parted, still holding hands, and he checked me out, head to toe. I grinned. “You sure look comfortable,” he said. “I’d like to relax a little too, after three hours of driving.”

“Well, first come over and tell me all about your trip,” I said, leading him to the sofa. “Wait a minute — I fixed us something to drink,” I added, I padded barefoot to the kitchen, “working it” a little bit as I walked away from him. I came back and curled up beside him; he felt so good. As he  told me about his trip, I shifted around on the sofa, making sure he got a good look at what I wasn’t wearing. (Yes, I was listening!)

“Why don’t we take a shower together and then spend some time outside relaxing?” I said after a while. “It’s too nice a day to sit in here.”

My husband never refuses a shower with me, so we made our way to the master bathroom. He began to unbutton his shirt, but I stopped him.

“Let me do it,” I said. I slowly began undoing the rest of the buttons, kissing his beautiful chest on the way down to his waist. I pushed the shirt from his shoulders and gave his neck muscles a little massage, then traced lightly with my fingertips down his arms and up again, tickling his armpits and gliding my hands down his torso. I circled him slowly, running my fingers down his back, followed by light kisses, then reaching around to unbuckle his belt and unzip his khakis. I gave him a gentle hug from behind, caressing his chest, before slowly pushing his pants to the floor; he had already kicked off his shoes. I continued lightly stroking, down his ass, now only covered by briefs, down his legs, finally peeling his socks off. I rose, caressing him in front this time, ending with my hands cupped around his package, his penis already straining against the fabric. I massaged gently through the briefs, then finally, after teasing him to the max, pushed his briefs down to h!
is feet. I moved in front of him. “Hello, gorgeous,” I said, smiling. “You look much better this way.”

“If we’re supposed to be relaxing, I can’t say that I’m any less tense,” he said, smiling. “It’s just in a different place.” Our fingers entwined as I gently played with his rigid shaft. “I’ll take care of that…eventually,” I said.

He caressed my shoulders. “Are you going to get rid of that dress?”

“I thought you liked it,” I said teasingly.

“It’s the hottest thing you wear, and you know it,” he said. “But you probably don’t want to get it wet. Or in the mood you’re in, maybe you do,” he said.

“Not today…but keep it in mind for another time,” I said, giving him a wink. I lifted the light dress easily over my head and tossed it aside.

The water felt so good; showering with my man is one of my favorite things, even when it doesn’t lead to anything else, even if we’re just going to work. Bathing each other is such a great way to connect. I soaped him thoroughly and sensually, running the bath mitt and my hands all over his body, and he did the same for me. We rinsed off, toweled each other dry and put on some sunscreen. Since our back yard is so secluded, we do spend a lot of time nude out there, but as I said, I did have something special planned.

“How about a massage?” I asked.

“It looks like you’re already prepared,” he said. “I’d love it.”

I had already laid several thick beach towels on the warm stone of the patio, massage oil ready. He lay on his stomach, closing his eyes. I’m no massage therapist, but I’ve read all the books and know the basics. I straddled him, working on his tired, tense shoulders first, moving down his back, working the soft, yet muscled mounds of his ass, gliding my hands along his legs, massaging his feet.

“Keep your eyes closed,” I said. “You’re getting a special treatment now.” I oiled myself up from neck to toes, lowered myself onto his back and glided my whole body up and down his. The full-body contact felt wonderful for me — the ultimate warm, soft snuggle, with a little tingle added in.

“How does that feel?” I raised up and he turned over, his penis hard but flopping back against his body. “Never mind,” I said. “I can tell.” I bent to give his shaft a light kiss, then oiled up his torso, arms and the front of his legs, continuing to massage.

“Does the special treatment work on the front, too?” he said.

“I think so,” I said. “Let’s see.” I lowered myself onto his body again, gliding lightly up and down, teasing his feet with mine, finding his lips for light kisses, exploring with my own body his warm, soft-yet-hard, wonderful body. I felt a rush of pleasure as my breasts slid across his chest. I rose and sat beside him on the warm stone of the patio.

“How was that?” I asked. “Do you have any tension left?”

“Well, there’s this one spot…” We both knew what he was talking about.

“Yeah, I know that always takes some extra attention,” I said, leaning across his body and caressing his penis.

“What are we going to do about it?” he said — really wanting to know.

“Well, there are two ways we can handle it,” I said, I think we’ll try this way for now,” I said, gently embracing the tip of his penis with my lips for just a moment. “Then if the problem…arises…again later, we can try it the other way.” I giggled and gave him a deep, playful kiss.

I have to pause the story for a minute to say that I didn’t always enjoy fellatio, but I did it because I knew my husband loved it. But I’m a “sensation junkie,” as you can probably tell from this story, and I eventually lost myself in the tastes, textures and smells, the warm feeling of his penis on my cheek as I pleasure his balls, his sounds and movements, his hands in my hair or caressing my face as I go down on him. So ladies — if you haven’t tried, it, try it!

Back to the story: I moved slowly above his body, grazing his penis with my nipples; that felt so good I grasped it and massaged my breasts and nipples with it. He spread his legs farther and made that “Mmmmmm…” sound that tells me I’m on the right track. Lying next to him, I held his penis with one hand while gently surrounding his balls with my lips, swirling my tongue around them. I felt my husband’s body respond; he moaned and ran his fingers through my hair. I kept going slowly, lapping long strokes from the base of his shaft to the tip; between strokes I held it against my cheek, it was so warm, so silky and sensitive yet rigid.

When the time was right I embraced his penis with my mouth, gently moving up and down while I continued to play with his balls, pulling gently, gliding my fingers over them and along his perineum, where he likes me to tease.

I was lost in the experience, pumping with my lips, swirling my tongue, massaging the base of his shaft with both hands; he stiffened and I backed off a little, licking the pre-cum from the tip, then I dove in again. Breathing heavily, caressing and clutching my head and shoulders, he was crazy with sensation. With a few more strokes I brought him to his climax, sucking long and deep to capture all his come as his shaft softened. I stretched out and we embraced in the warm sun; I kissed him with still a trace of his juices on my lips.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” I said.

“You’re amazing,” he said, hugging me tighter, gliding his hands along my back. My own desires, which had faded to the background while I pleasured him, began to stir again, that familiar feeling growing between my legs. “How would you like to thank me?”

“Let me think about that one for a while,” he said. He can tease as well as I can. “Let’s get in the tub.” Hand in hand, we went to the garden tub; he helped me in and I followed, stepping down into the warm water. We turned on the jets and let the bubbles caress our bodies. I shifted to where I was directly in front of one of the streams; it surged between my legs, sending a gentle wave of pleasure over me, my nipples becoming erect.

I couldn’t take it any more. “If you haven’t come up with an idea, I’ve got one,” I said. I turned off the jets, the water calming; I pulled one of the towels closer to the edge of the tub and lifted myself from the water, sitting on the edge. My husband came to me without a word, embracing me, kissing me deeply, and moving down to my breasts, sucking and swirling with his tongue until I was lost in the moment. I clutched his hair, pulling his head away and lying back on the towel, my legs spread and raised, inviting him in.

He responded, planting light kisses on my inner thighs as my labia swelled. He moved closer to stroke ever so lightly with his tongue, up and down, gradually probing deeper, parting my lips with his gentle fingers, massaging my mound with his hands and mouth. I pulled his head closer, almost grinding it into my nest; he responded, lapping deeper and stronger, as my clitoris came alive. He found it with the tip of his tongue and gently circled it — what an amazing sensation. My whole body was alive with our combined passion, as I lay in the warm sun, hearing the sounds of my husband’s pleasuring, the gentle lap of the water and the birdsong — and my own moans and cries of delight.

I came once, then again and again as he continued to work his magic between my legs. Finally I relaxed, easing into the water with him and embracing him tightly. “You’re more than welcome,” I said, with a smile that dissolved into a giggle as we held each other in the quiet, warm water.

We stayed in the tub for quite a while, just gently embracing and playing in the water as the sun slipped down, both of us satisfied — for the time being, anyway. Finally, we got out, cleaned up our stuff from the patio and went in to take another shower, washing each other’s hair this time (another fave of mine).

“Why don’t we just stay like this the rest of the evening?” I said as we toweled off.

“Aren’t you done welcoming me home yet?” He snuggled me in the warm mist of the bathroom, a towel between us. “I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Well, I missed you, and I never really take much notice when you come back after being away — we just sort of go back to our routines. I wanted to let you know that I really do cherish you, and love being with you.” I squeezed him tighter.

“And no, I’m not done welcoming you home,” I said, smiling and turning toward the mirror. I have a special early dinner planned. Why don’t you put on some of that fragrance I like and chill while I do my hair and makeup and get things ready? I’ll come get you for dinner.”

I got busy drying my hair and started putting my face on — I don’t wear a lot of makeup but I wanted to make a little extra effort tonight. I lightly smoothed on some fragrant body lotion, all over.

I went to the bedroom. Even though we were nude, I felt like “dressing up” a little. I put on some exotic-looking earrings my husband had given me once — I think they were from Thailand or India, maybe — and another anklet, thin gold this time, with a matching toe ring. And I topped off the look with something I definitely don’t wear every day, but that I know my husband likes — a gold waist chain. The most exotic belly dancer in the East had nothing on me, I thought as I looked in the mirror — except the rest of the outfit, of course.

In the kitchen, I finished getting things ready. I had cut up some fruit and vegetables into bite-size pieces, with different kinds of sauces and dips, along with some fresh bread. I got the dining-room table ready, with candlelight and a rich burgundy tablecloth. I brought a bottle of wine and the food to the table, turned off the lights so that only the candles were illuminating the room — it was getting dark outside now — and went to look for my husband. He had gone back outside to relax in a lounge chair on the patio.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” I said. “Dinner’s ready.” He got up and I led him into the dining room. I think he only just then noticed my jewelry, sparkling in the candlelight. “You look incredible,” he said. I “modeled” for him and then embraced him lightly. “Just for you,” I said. “And maybe a little for me, too.” He had followed my instructions about the fragrance; he smelled as wonderful as he felt in my arms.

We sat down and held hands, quietly giving thanks for the food. “I thought it would be fun to feed each other,” I said. “Here, watch this.” I picked up a baby carrot, dipped it in some sauce and put it between his teeth. He did the same with a piece of bread, dipping it into an Italian-dressing sauce and feeding it to me. We poured the wine, and while we didn’t drink too much of it, I think it just enhanced the sensuality of all the tastes and smells and textures we were sharing with each other — and enhanced the giggles, too.

As we ate, drank and played, I began to glide my foot along his leg under the table. I noticed that I could reach his chair; I probed a little farther and found his penis with my toes. It grew as I caressed it, and it felt so warm and firm against my foot; I began to stroke it rhythmically.

“What’s wrong?” I said as I stopped and leaned across the corner of the table. “You seem to be preoccupied.” Smiling, he didn’t answer. But then I felt a foot teasing mine, then gliding up my own leg, finding my womanhood. He pressed his heel into my bush, massaging the mound with a circular motion. “I can play that game, too,” he said, grinning.

The sexual electricity was flickering across that table between us like the glow of the candles that painted our bodies. I took some of the sweet fruit-dipping sauce and smoothed it onto first one breast, then the other. “Lick it off,” I commanded. He leaned across the table, cupped my breast gently in his hand and began to suck and lick. A wave of longing rolled through my body. I reached for him, feeling his strong arms as we both stood, melting into each other with deep kisses, exploring each other’s bodies. His shaft raised between my legs, and he gently rocked back and forth as my labia swelled once again.

A thought came to me in the heat of our embrace — no, a need. I backed away. “Wait,” I said, surprising myself with the huskiness of my voice. He stroked himself gently in the candlelight as I quickly cleared the table and sat on the edge, facing him. We’ve played all day,” I said, “and it’s been incredible. But now I need you inside me.” We had never done this before. It was a sturdy, Mission-style table; it felt cool against my hot skin as I lay back. I raised my legs, pressing my feet against his chest, while stroking myself. My husband gripped my legs and drew my feet up over his shoulders, pressing his body into the back of my legs. “Give me your cock,” I said. “I want it so bad.” The words surprised me as they came from my mouth, but I was possessed by passion and by my love for this incredible man.

His rigid member found my moist pussy and slid inside. We both moaned as he began stroking, grinding and swiveling his hips to give me a variety of sensations. I clutched the edge of the table with one hand and massaged my breast with the other, his manhood alive inside me, embraced within my vagina but somehow reaching into every inch of my body. He stroked harder and deeper now, still holding my legs against his torso.

Orgasm after orgasm swept over me. I cried out, writhed and moaned as the pleasure ebbed and flowed. My husband, sensing it was time, began shorter, faster strokes, gripping my legs more tightly, and his breathing more rapid and heavier. With a moan he filled me with his love, lingering within me as long as he could. He lowered my legs; I rose, sitting to face him, and buried my face in his warm, soft chest as he embraced me. We held each other like that for a long while as the candles burned down.

“I love you so much,” he said softly.

“I love you, too,” I said. “Do you feel welcomed home now?”

“Home is wherever you are, and always will be,” he said. Let’s go to bed.” Hand in hand, we went to the bedroom and we lay together, falling asleep as we relived a day of awesome, sensual moments.