In the first moment of seeing my husband, he told me he was confiscating me and held me tight, not allowing us to part and allow space between us. He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled against my neck when the kids weren’t looking
In the second moment of seeing my husband, he slipped us into a corner and gripped my hair, yanking my head back and mouth up to greet this. My mouth willingly opened and tongues explored and expressed a need for far more than kisses.
In the third moment of seeing my husband, he kept whispering of all the things he craved to do to me once we were alone, his hand occasionally slipping in between my thighs nonchalantly and gripping hard to a thigh or slowly sliding at the juncture of my sex which responded as if there were no clothes there.
In the fourth moment of seeing my husband, he informed me we were making love. Instead of feeling bored, I relished the slower pace of discovering how each other tastes, the slowly easing in and adjusting to his large size, the way I welcomed and tightened around his desire for me.
In the fifth moment of seeing my husband, he wrapped around his fingers around my neck and told me that I was his, that I was always his despite time or distance.
In the sixth moment of seeing my husband, he dressed me up in stockings and garter he purchased for just this moment, kissed his way through the patterns and gripped tightly to designed thighs that parted for him to enter.
In the seventh moment of seeing my husband, his hands grasped wrists and held them away from his body, fingers wrapped and gripped wrists as tightly as my body around his cock.
In the eighth moment of seeing my husband, he told me to: “not tighten and force my orgasm,” and I relaxed around his length, though my own orgasms made my muscles clench and throb around him anyhow from time to time. I had to become aware of how my muscles played about him in my pleasure to not force his own.
In the ninth moment of seeing my husband, he said: “we’re going to be here awhile,” and my body was already exhausted in sensations and my mind so focused on how he felt inside of me, yet it had been so long and we were starving for each other, could not get enough.
In the tenth moment of seeing my husband, when he paused for a moment and I was sure that he had found his own release, he told me: “I am not done with you,” and after allowing me some breaths and being down from orgasms, changed positions and slid his hardness deep into me again, every inch rubbed and possessed me.
In the eleventh moment of seeing my husband, he finally groaned his own release, held himself so rigid and deeply inside of me, as I gripped him even tighter at a peak of pleasure that I was also feeling.
In the twelfth moment of seeing my husband, his arms held me, our breaths deep but calming side by side, our bodies entwined.
I felt whole again.
*Written to the Christmas Erotica Prompts song of Twelve Days of Christmas.