wilderness
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- May 4, 2001
- Posts
- 6,435
My Patient Hand Fantasy
The text message said you had a surprise for me. But at work things went from bad to worse and it was well after midnight when I finally made it home and entered through the garage.
The television murmured incoherently from the back room.
“Babe, I’m home.”
No response. Thinking you probably fell asleep, I switch to stealth mode and soundlessly entered the TV room.
Seeing the top of your head on the couch arm rest, I approach from the back and look over. Immediately I realize what my surprise was to be. It was supposed to be a night of physical delights beginning with my eyes. I’d never seen that gauzy, wisp of a nightie before. Apparently you’d been shopping and had something special planned. The vision of you so peaceful, and yet so alluring, sent my hands sliding down the couch toward your dreamy form, while thinking what would be the best way to wake you? Caress your cheek with the back of my fingers? Cradle your soft breast in my palm and swipe my thumb over the sensitive tip? Run my fingertips lightly up your inner thigh?
But as I ponder the 50 ways to touch my lover I realize this was supposed to be your surprise. I shouldn’t spoil it. A retreat was in order. Refusing my hands their tactile desires, I button up, return to the garage, and reenter the house with loud thumping and whining.
“Babe, I’m home! What a crappy day this has been!” while taking a long time to remove my jacket and shoes.
You soon appear as a backlit silhouette, and strike a bent leg pose against the doorframe. In a husky, seductive whisper, you say, “Sorry to hear you had a hard day. What can I do to make a hard day’s night a night to remember.”
I grin, and honestly say, “Wow, you look amazing. This is a pleasant surprise. I’m sure we can think of something.”
The text message said you had a surprise for me. But at work things went from bad to worse and it was well after midnight when I finally made it home and entered through the garage.
The television murmured incoherently from the back room.
“Babe, I’m home.”
No response. Thinking you probably fell asleep, I switch to stealth mode and soundlessly entered the TV room.
Seeing the top of your head on the couch arm rest, I approach from the back and look over. Immediately I realize what my surprise was to be. It was supposed to be a night of physical delights beginning with my eyes. I’d never seen that gauzy, wisp of a nightie before. Apparently you’d been shopping and had something special planned. The vision of you so peaceful, and yet so alluring, sent my hands sliding down the couch toward your dreamy form, while thinking what would be the best way to wake you? Caress your cheek with the back of my fingers? Cradle your soft breast in my palm and swipe my thumb over the sensitive tip? Run my fingertips lightly up your inner thigh?
But as I ponder the 50 ways to touch my lover I realize this was supposed to be your surprise. I shouldn’t spoil it. A retreat was in order. Refusing my hands their tactile desires, I button up, return to the garage, and reenter the house with loud thumping and whining.
“Babe, I’m home! What a crappy day this has been!” while taking a long time to remove my jacket and shoes.
You soon appear as a backlit silhouette, and strike a bent leg pose against the doorframe. In a husky, seductive whisper, you say, “Sorry to hear you had a hard day. What can I do to make a hard day’s night a night to remember.”
I grin, and honestly say, “Wow, you look amazing. This is a pleasant surprise. I’m sure we can think of something.”
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