I woke up to soft light pushing through the hotel curtains. For a moment I just lay still, breathing in the smell of fresh sheets mixed with the faint but unmistakable scent of sex. My body was sore in the best way, and when I rolled onto my side, I saw her—my wife—curled against me, hair messy, lips slightly parted as she slept.
That word hit me again like a wave: Wife. MY wife! After all the waiting, the prayers, the late nights fighting temptation, she was finally mine—flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. I closed my eyes and whispered a quick thank-you to God, almost laughing at how surreal it felt.
But then her bare thigh shifted against me, and I felt myself harden instantly. Morning wood had nothing on the memory of what we’d done last night, the way she clung to me, cried out for me, gave herself fully for the first time. I bit back a groan as I pressed closer, my length nudging against the curve of her backside.
I couldn’t help myself—my hand slid under the sheets, over the curve of her hip, down the smooth plane of her stomach until my fingers brushed the soft warmth between her legs. She stirred, murmured something sleepy, and pressed herself back into me. Her skin was hot, her body instinctively opening under my touch.
“Mmm…” she sighed, still half-asleep, and then her eyes blinked open, finding mine. A knowing smile slowly spread across her face.
“Didn’t get enough last night, husband?”
The word husband nearly undid me.
I kissed her shoulder, her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, my hands roaming greedily now. She reached back, fingers wrapping lazily around me, stroking in slow, teasing pulls that made my hips jerk forward against her.
I groaned into her ear. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”
Her laugh was low and husky. “Good.”
That was it. I rolled her onto her stomach and slid between her legs, kissing down her back as she arched for me. When I entered her, she gasped, clutching the sheets, the sound filling the room. I moved slowly at first, savoring every inch, then harder as her body met mine, desperate and hungry even after everything we’d done last night.
I flipped her onto her back so I could see her face—flushed, hair spread across the pillow, lips parted in pure pleasure. I kissed her deeply, losing myself in the taste of her, in the way she moaned against my mouth as I drove into her.
Minutes blurred into breathless heat, her nails digging into my shoulders, my forehead pressed against hers as we both pushed closer to the edge. When release finally came, it was raw and overwhelming, leaving us tangled and gasping, our bodies slick with sweat.
I collapsed beside her, pulling her against my chest. We lay there in silence, her head on my shoulder, my hand tracing circles on her hip.
Finally, she whispered, “If this is just the first morning, I can’t wait for the rest of forever.”
I kissed her hair and smiled, whispering a prayer of thanks. Because she was right. This was just the beginning—and I knew I’d never get enough.
The post The Morning After appeared first on Married sex stories – erotica – marriage sex blogs.
